three
“Nobody knows where we are,” Joiya announced as she returned from the quaint camp set up in the middle of a picturesque meadow. “Fine thing, that. Two soldiers straight from the Yahzenian Defense Force, and they can’t conduct practical navigation on an alien planet.”
“To be fair,” Mira said from the sleeping mat she shared with her mother, “you’re the most universally renowned sorceress, and you don’t know where we are, either.”
Joiya blushed. “It’s difficult to navigate under a foreign sea of stars!”
“So, they’re probably having the same problem. They’re trained to defend Yahzen on, you know, planetside. They can probably get from Lerenan Estate to Marlow Estate using nothing but a compass and mountain climbing gear.”
They sat beneath that sea of foreign stars, waiting for the temperature to drop enough to warrant getting out the thermal blankets.
Or we ask one of the guards to blanket us with some sorcery.
Mira could have done it herself—she swore she knew how.
Except she wasn’t allowed to. Not for another four years.
And her mother? The silly woman also sported a sorcery-suppressing tattoo, choosing to join her daughter in the depths of analog, digital hell.
I’d say it’s like living in ancient times, but arguably, our ancestors were even more powerful than we are.
The only reason Mira knew that was because both sides of her family were from the First Sixteen, or the first named families of Yahzen that not only established the rules and law of julah society, but founded the estates that were now the closest things to cities on Yahzen.
Besides the two actual cities, of course.
“Could use one of those fabled nitrous storms right about now,” Mira said, lying back on the sleeping mat. “Wouldn’t mind getting high.”
“Unfortunately, you’re your parents’ daughter. It takes a lot more to get high than a mere nitrous storm.”
“Still, wouldn’t mind trying it.”
Before they could continue their joke, another member of their party approached.
“Any news?” Joiya asked.
Kema, a distant hybrid cousin of theirs, nodded.
Her soft black locks lay down one shoulder and shrouded her chest as she came closer.
“We believe we’re close to a town called Harksplit. At least, according to my holographic clipboard and the compass the guards have. If we keep going this way, we’ll eventually reach the Kinship Memorial in a few days.”
“Wonderful.” Joiya accepted the clipboard that exchanged hands.
Mira looked over her mother’s shoulder as Joiya zoomed in on a satellite map of the planet.
Arrah, right? She already forgot its name.
This was the fifth planet they had traversed in one year.
“Looks like we’re about half a day away from Gardiah Estate. I’ve heard of that family. Horse breeders, I believe.”
Kema took the clipboard. “Should we call upon them tomorrow? Ask for sanctuary?”
“Depends on how devout they are to the Temple.”
“Ma,” Mira said with a snort. “You’re Lady Dunsman. If they’ve got an even slightly pious woman running the show there, they’ll roll out the softest carpet for you. All you have to do is share some of your womanly wisdom with them.”
Joiya did not care for such platitudes, but she used that as an excuse to change the subject. “That reminds me! I’ve already added a new chapter to my next book. The one about faith through adversity.”
Mira rolled her eyes—at least her mother couldn’t see that well in the dark, despite their fire only a few yards away. “Where was that eleven years ago, Ma?”
“Where do you think I got most of my experience? Honestly, this is part two of my book about faith through grief and personal loss.”
To that, her daughter said nothing. She did not fault her mother for having a way with words that reached many of the scared and anxious women of the universe.
Lady Dunsman’s memoirs and essay collections often touched on the feminine divine in all people, including what it meant to be a woman and motherhood.
Her countless miscarriages before Mira’s eventual, blessed arrival had made Joiya the patron saint of fertility and childbirth among female humans.
Wherever they went, there was fanfare. Mira was willing to concede that her mother was more beloved than her father, and that was a feat.
She gazed at the humble campsite for their party of six.
Although this pilgrimage centered on Mira’s penance and Joiya’s desire to reconnect with humanity, they were not alone.
For one, nobody in the Temple would allow anyone with the name of Dunsman to travel like this without sorcery at their fingertips—not unless they brought military protection with them.
So came along the only men in their little party, two Defense Force officers on loan.
Joiya had already entered their minds and hearts in as few as three conversations, but Mira still barely remembered their names a year later.
Then there was their distant cousin, Kema, of course.
Mira hadn’t known her well, but Lady Yariah Lerenan insisted that she would make a doting companion and needed to get away from the family estate for a while.
She was a competent sorceress for a hybrid, and Mira was glad that someone could teleport at will among them.
As for their sixth…
Well, one would gaze upon Hannu Adelah and see a quiet, obedient servant.
She was always the first to start camp and the last to go to sleep.
She was up at dawn to prepare breakfast and meditatively prayed to the Void whenever she had a spare chance.
Like Mira and Joiya, she had been tattooed to suppress her sorcery, not that she had ever been greatly talented.
But for her, it was true penance. Hannu blamed herself for a tragedy that led her astray from the priestess path.
Mira didn’t know if she was still a part of the Temple clergy or if she had resigned.
The Adelahs were career priests for the most part.
What else was there for her to do in the family?
I think she’s an even more distant cousin of ours. Mira’s grandmother was an Adelah by birth. Although she supposed this meant that their familial distance was so great that it didn’t matter. Not that Mira was interested in Hannu in any way other than some morbid curiosity.
Mira rolled over. Dinner would be ready soon, but she was already sleepy after yet another day of walking for miles.
One of the guards doubled as a medic who tended to sore muscles and blisters.
But that had been more pertinent several months ago when Mira first began her physically demanding pilgrimage across the Federation.
Now? Her limbs were used to the abuse. She had lost more weight than she had in prison when she didn’t have much of an appetite.
Between the simple foods they cooked twice a day and all the exercise…
She already dozed off in front of the fire, hand wrapped around the zatbah necklace on her throat. It hadn’t left her skin except to bathe. If I hold it hard enough, will I infuse it with my memories? That was the legend about zatbah stones.
Eventually, her mother shook her awake to eat, but Mira didn’t care. She breathed the Arrahite air in deeply and concluded it smelled of musky trees and untouched valleys. Good thing the medic knew his way around allergy treatments, too.
Sure enough, they came upon the entrance to a noble estate the following morrow.
“You don’t see a lot of these in human territory these days,” one of the guards quipped.
“Arrah is a bit different,” Joiya pointed out as they gazed upon the large electronic fence separating travelers from the creature comforts most julah were accustomed to.
“This planet has more nobility per square mile than any other Federation planet. Part of the reason it’s so expensive to buy property here. The gentry owns it all already.”
While the others discussed how best to announce themselves, Mira peered through the fence and caught sight of a large manor house that was a similar style to some julah family homes she had seen in her life.
The stately rectangular shape of the human abode, with its steel-gray trim, black finishes, and wood-brown roof, reminded her of Dashni Estate, where she spent a couple of holidays while wooing one of the family’s most beloved daughters.
They put up with me as an honored guest, despite turning their eyes away from our lovemaking.
If it could be called that. Mira’s ex wasn’t exactly fond of love as an emotion.
Just the physical expressions, as proven when she was caught expressing herself with the heir of House Honan. In public, no less.
But this human estate wasn’t nearly as big as a proper julah compound.
It didn’t need to house hundreds of family members at any given time, never mind staff.
And while most modern Houses built apartments, townhouses, and “intentional communities” on their swaths of land to reflect the family dynamics, Mira had a feeling that what she saw here was what she got: three stories, about a dozen people,
and maybe a couple of separate cottages for certain employees.
Still, the surrounding area was picturesque.
The fog had burned off to reveal impressive groves of green trees, towering mountains, and more of that dramatic Arrahite countryside that beguiled the entire Federation.
So much so that this was one of the few human-dominated planets that had almost as many visa requirements for visiting as Yahzen did.
Mira grinned. She had a feeling that the nobility in this estate fancied themselves as untalented julah. Nah. They couldn’t handle it!
Joiya approached the gate. There were no guards, but there was a button for callers to press.
She glanced back at her party, an eclectic bunch of julah in Temple whites and military garb.
Kema was the only one studying how Joiya pushed the button and politely asked for someone from the family to meet them out there.
Mira was staring at the screen on her communicator, her only connection to the outside world of her pilgrimage.
But there were no messages from anyone. Nobody had called her.