Chapter 10 #2
"My grandmother used to say that the wind was Ceraste's first artist." The memory rises unbidden and bittersweet. "She would bring me here when I was young. We would watch the sunset paint shadows across the stones, and she would tell me stories of the old times."
Cody's hand finds mine. He does not say anything, just holds my hand and lets me remember.
Ahead of us, Spire Mountain dominates the horizon. It is even more magnificent up close. The mountain thrusts upward from the desert floor like a great stone blade, its peaks jagged and imposing, the larger sun setting directly behind it in a crown of fire.
"Mind if I take us around it?" Cody asks. "Get a better look?"
"Please."
He adjusts our course, and we swing wide around the mountain's base.
From this angle, I can see the ancient cave systems that honeycomb its lower slopes.
Dark openings in the rock face that lead to burial caverns.
My grandparents rest somewhere in those depths.
My great-grandparents. Generations of my ancestors.
Cody takes us in a slow circle, giving me time to look my fill.
"It's beautiful," he says. "I can see why your people chose it."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
He banks the shuttle eastward again, leaving Spire Mountain behind, and we fly on.
The dramatic formations of the Wind Gardens give way to flatter terrain, to the great sand plains that dominate so much of my world.
The sand ripples in patterns created by the constant winds, and occasionally we pass over the dark shapes of rocky plateaus that rise like islands from an ocean of gold.
Then, gradually, the terrain begins to change again.
The sand becomes coarser and darker, mixed with volcanic rock. Sparse vegetation appears. The tough, hardy plants that survive in Ceraste's harshest conditions.
My heart begins to pound.
I know this landscape. I know the shape of that volcanic ridge on the horizon. The silhouette of the dead volcano rising in the distance is achingly familiar.
"Cody." My voice comes out barely above a whisper. "Are we going to Brishar?"
He glances at me, and the grin on his face tells me everything.
"I talked to D'Rett last night," he says. "After I walked you back to your quarters. I may have jogged to his room and begged." The grin turns sheepish. "Chelsea and L'Tarne were there to witness my pleading. It was not a dignified display."
I cannot speak. My throat has closed around something too large for words.
"I wanted to take you to see your community center," he continues, his voice softer now.
"And I thought we could have a proper picnic there.
You and me. No research team, no comm chatter, no schedule.
" He nods toward the bag stowed behind his seat.
"I packed food. I had the synthesizer make chariom noodles for you, mild ones for me.
Some of that verak nectar you like. A few other things. "
He planned this.
"You have been thinking about this all day," I say. "That is why you were so distracted."
"Guilty." He has the grace to look slightly abashed. "Keeping a secret from you is basically impossible. You read people like books."
"You are not a difficult book to read, Cody."
"Ouch."
"It was not an insult." I reach across the console and take his hand. "It is one of my favorite things about you."
His fingers close around mine, warm and sure.
And in the distance, growing larger with every passing moment, I can see Brishar.
My heart clenches as the settlement comes into view.
Memory had made it grander. In reality, it is a modest cluster of buildings arranged around a central plaza, huddled at the base of the dead volcano that gave it its stone.
A protective wall encircles the rest. Not every Cerastean settlement needs such defenses, but Brishar sits alone in the deep desert, far from any aid.
Some of the structures have collapsed, victims of time and neglect.
Others still stand, their dark volcanic stone weathered but intact.
And there, in the center of the plaza, rising above the other buildings like a beacon…
"Is that it?" Cody asks.
I cannot speak. I can only nod.
The community center still stands.
My building. The first major project I ever designed on my own, the one I poured my heart into, the one I thought I would never see again.
Cody guides the ship in a slow circle around the settlement.
I take in the community center, the largest structure in Brishar, rising above the surrounding buildings like a proud centerpiece.
It is small compared to the capital's towers, but here, among the modest dwellings, it dominates the plaza.
The roofline rises and falls in smooth, rounded waves that echo the dunes surrounding the settlement.
The shape is deliberate. I designed it so that sandstorms would meet no sharp edges to catch against, only curves that guide the wind up and over.
The walls are carved with an overlapping scale pattern, a nod to my people's skin, and large windows line every wall in order to flood the interior with natural light.
At the front, a single grand archway reflects the shape of the dark mass of the volcano looming directly above.
Tears slip down my cheeks.
"A'Vanti." Cody's voice is gentle. "We're going to land now. Okay?"
I wipe my face with the back of my hand and take a steadying breath. "Yes. I am ready."
He sets us down in the plaza. Through the viewport, the community center looms before us, close enough now that I can see the neglect.
Sand has drifted against the entrance. Several windows are cracked, and at least one is missing entirely.
The carved scale pattern on the walls has been worn smooth by years of wind and sand in a few places.
But it is standing. It survived.
"Before we head out…" Cody taps a command into the ship's console. "Let me make sure we don't have any unwanted company. I learned my lesson with the keth'ra."
A small drone launches from somewhere beneath the shuttle, and I watch through the viewport as it begins a methodical sweep of the area. It circles the plaza, ducks between buildings, scans the shadows beneath collapsed awnings and inside empty doorways.
"Looking good so far," Cody murmurs, studying the drone's feed on the ship's screen. "No heat signatures, no movement. Just sand and silence."
The drone completes its sweep and returns to the shuttle with a muted click.
"All clear." He meets my eyes. "Ready to see your building?"
I take his hand. "More than you know."
Cody grabs the bag from the storage compartment and slings it over his shoulder, and we step out together into the heat of Ceraste. The air wraps around me like an embrace, smelling of sand and sun-baked stone and the sharp sweetness of sennah blossoms. I remember that it is pollination season.
I lead Cody across the plaza, our footsteps crunching in the accumulated sand.
The entrance is partially blocked by a drift of sand, but the doors themselves are intact.
Thick metal slabs inlaid with pieces of petrified wood from the southern fossil forests and small chips of sunstone, carefully arranged to form the twin-sun pattern that symbolizes unity and balance.
The light catches inside the sunstone, the amber and gold rippling inside the inlay.
I remember how long it took to find an artisan skilled enough for the inlay work, remember arguing that the doors were the first thing people would touch. They had to be perfect.
"Help me?" I ask.
Together, we clear enough sand to push one of the doors open. It groans in protest but swings inward.
I step inside, and my heart breaks open.
The space is exactly as I designed it, and nothing like it at all.
Sand has drifted through broken windows, piling in corners and along walls.
The great skylight I was so proud of is cracked, a spiderweb of fractures running across its surface.
The murals that local artists painted on the walls have faded, their colors muted by time and dust.
But the bones of the building – the soaring ceiling, the graceful arches, the way the space flows from one area to the next – that is all still here.
"A'Vanti," Cody says, and something in his tone makes me look over. His face is full of wonder and admiration. "This is beautiful."
"It was meant to be a gathering place." My voice echoes slightly in the empty space. "The main hall here was for community events. I designed the space with its high ceiling to feel open and grand."
I move deeper into the building, and Cody follows.
The alcoves along the walls where families could sit together during gatherings.
The smaller rooms off the main hall, each designed for a different purpose: a reading room, a nursery for small children, a space for meditation and prayer.
I point to the raised platform at the far end of the immense room.
"Presentation Ceremonies were held here," I say. "Males would stand on that platform and present themselves, hoping to be chosen by their intended female. If she accepted, they would be mated for life."
Cody looks at the platform for a long moment. Then at me. But he doesn't comment.
I look back at the platform, and an image arrives unbidden and vivid of Cody standing there, those blue eyes finding mine across the hall, waiting for me to choose him. My neck heats.
I turn and head down a corridor leading away from the main hall.
"This room was my favorite." I push open a door to reveal a circular chamber with a domed ceiling.
"It was meant for storytelling. The acoustics—" I clap my hands once, and the sound reverberates.
"You see? The shape of the room carries sound without distorting it.
A storyteller could speak in a normal voice, and everyone would hear perfectly. "