River’s End ch 1- Paranoia and Etiquette are Equally Annoying

If you’ve ever needed to not be stuck in a room with your teacher, then you understand why I was in the forest, barefoot and stuffing myself with wild berries. No, it was not what I was supposed to be doing, but it seemed like a good idea that morning before anyone informed me important guests would arrive shortly.

That would have been nice to know before now, I typed back with one hand while the other packed fresh vials of dye into my skirt’s hidden pocket.

My thoughts exactly. Where are you, Rose? popped up on the screen as I slid the small tablet in with them. I didn’t have time to stop and reply, and running through the undergrowth with this much fabric trailing from my hips was difficult enough already.

I jumped on a log fallen across the path and slipped on a mossy patch.

Fredo caught my arm, saving my rear from an unfortunate reunion with the ground. How kind of him to avoid smearing the still-drying artwork on the back of my hand. “Did Dollii say who it is we’re rushing back to see?”

Yes, but he would have been less than thrilled by the answer.

I smiled up at him. “Have I told you how awesome that outfit looks? It’s made of shed scyuen scales, right? Did you know that to weave it into such fine chains, they—”

“You said ‘important guests.’ Are they from the capital?”

Oh, Fredo and his too-accurate guessing skills.

His eyes scrutinized me, teetering on the edge of an impatient frown. “Is it your sister?”

A nervous, excited tingle filled me, and I bit my lip. My steps slowed, and alongside me, so did his.

“It’s alright for you to be happy to see her.”

“No, it’s not,” I grumbled, eyes on the velvety, pale blue grass, then on the embroidery of silver swirls traipsing down the left side of my outfit. They marked me like a signature, still shimmering despite the mud. “When she’s here, you have to hide.”

“That doesn’t make it wrong for you to want your family’s attention.” He nudged me with his shoulder and sped up.

Like a leaf floating on the wind, his gait was light and nimble as if the world placed no weight on his shoulders, but a twitch in his jaw contradicted his carefree posture. It pinched me somewhere deep within.

I shook the feeling aside, same as I had many times lately. If I revealed how his emotions affected me, he would bring up something I didn’t want to talk about.

Hitching my skirt, I ran faster, but he matched my pace. The wind picked up, moaning as it sprinted through the thick canopy, but if it heralded a transport, I couldn’t see it. Fredo’s back blocked my view, covered in dark armor and a braid the color of molten rock.

I tugged on his rope of hair. “You can just tow me.”

“Wouldn’t that make it hard for me to hide?”

“Good point.” I puffed my cheeks and reluctantly released him.

He glanced back with a grin, showing no hint of the fear and vexation that raged inside him.

No, I chided myself. I cannot know what he’s feeling. Stop it. I can only know what he shows.

At the moment, he showed the world a smile, ruddy skin blotched with purple and blue juice where I might have thrown some berries at him. He might have thrown some back, but I didn’t have time to worry about my appearance.

I should have known better. I was always supposed to worry about my appearance.

As we burst past the last tree before the citadel’s wall, a transport that resembled an enormous, white-gold nightingale fluttered toward a landing platform atop one of the turrets. A million insects hatched in my gut.

“Rosa?”

Only Fredo called me that.

The swarm swirled faster, and I hid my face against his back. “Do you think they’d take me more seriously if I were an actual eteriq?”

He snorted. “Why would you want to be like those long-dead, socially-inept geniuses?”

Palm over my heart, I swung around him. “Show some respect. The eteriq shaped our world.”

“You are fine the way you are.” Hands on my shoulders, he twirled me toward the stairs. “Though, you could run faster.”

I stuck my tongue out at him but heeded his advice. As the transport reflected the sky’s pink blush onto a waiting crowd, I raced up stone steps, adjusting my scarf to cover the lower half of my face. The soft, white cloth streaked with baby blue was too warm for easy breathing and immersed me in the aromas of the forest.

I reached the back of the welcoming party just as the bird’s three metal feet tapped down. No one touched me, but implied shoves ushered my tardy behind to the front of the gathering to stand beside Lady Lokma. Disapproval turned her face a lovely shade of mauve.

The transport door lowered, and steps formed on its inner side. I tripped over my too-long skirt and fell to one knee as my aged father appeared in the doorway. His robe flowed like liquid gold over his bent back, blending with his skin of nearly equal color. His twisted hair shone white like moonbeams, rare and resplendent as his cherry-red eyes.

Forgive me. I use many foreign comparisons. Having studied many worlds, I think it a waste to limit the source of my similes to only my native Seallaii, and you know of Earth, yes? It’s my favorite world from which to take descriptions since my name is also from there. Call it a game.

I remained in my prostrated position so it would look like I had intended to kneel. I was overly respectful, not clumsy.

My father took forever coming down those five stairs.

“Dear Rose,” he greeted, a gentle hand falling atop my head, “I believe you have grown in the time since I last saw you.”

How can you tell? I’m on my knees!

Of course, I didn’t say this. It would have belied the respectful image I went for, and who knew, maybe even kneeling I was taller than when he had last noticed me.

I put on my sweetest voice and grin. “Honored Father, might I inquire—”

His fingers snapped twice, and if he wore molten gold, my sister’s dress was formed of spilled ink and rivers kissed by the moons. She glided toward his summons with a grace I wished I had. Was it a result of training or something innate I could never attain? Time would tell. I was only seventeen. She was nearly ninety and gorgeous.

The length of her coarse curls bespoke her age, fashioning a tiered bun dark as pitch before cascading to the ground. On her infrequent visits, I often stared at her hair, memorizing its lines so I could try to copy the style later, but today my eyes caught on the stranger descending just ahead of her.

He had a round face, stout humanoid frame draped in a straight tunic with long, tight sleeves and a tall collar. Lengthy fringe dangled from his shirt, and lace encrusted his pants and shoes, denoting high rank among his people. His umber hair would have been child-short for a Seallaii-na and was slicked back, but the ears that stuck through it were what confirmed his race—ears conical, stiff, and fuzzy like an Earth-na wolf’s.

Shlykrii-na.

As the foreigner stopped alongside my father, I scrambled to my feet and shuffled back, eyes darting around for Fredo and not finding him. He hid, yes, but usually I could still see him.

My heart leapt into my throat and got stuck there like some drain clog, so when my father introduced me as, “Rose, my younger daughter, the one adopted by the River Guardians on account of her special eyes,” I could only give a half-squeak in response, extending my hand for a light peck on the air just above my knuckles.

To preserve our mysterious aura, River Guardians never showed our full faces in public—hence my scarf. We were also not to be touched by non-River Guardians. My father had blatantly ignored this with his hand-on-my-head gesture, but he was either an oblivious buffoon or so adept at acting the part that no one questioned it anymore.

The Shlykrii-na’s kiss fell properly short of my skin, though he clutched my fingers. His grasp constricted until I retreated another step, hand squirming free.

“Lafdo feels honored to greet you.” His harsh vowels and r’s grated in my ears, as did his third-person reference to himself. It was proper grammar in Laysis, the international language of Shlykrii, but it sounded too odd in Sishgil.

My father laughed. “Lafdo will stay as a guest here until further notice. I am certain you will get along wonderfully.”

Was that an invitation for irony or sarcasm?

Why is he here? I wanted to shout, but my father already walked away, accepting my sister’s aid as they reached the steps that led down into the citadel. The crowd parted and scuttled off. I wanted to follow my father and wring more information from him, but he had implied Lafdo was my guest. Etiquette required I wait for him to follow my father first.

Etiquette is annoying.

“Lafdo wonders why you appear here so filthy and disheveled. You seem old enough to know better.”

I looked at the mud-splashed hems hiding my bare feet. The formerly white satin of my skirt dragged on the ground when I didn’t hold it up, as did my pant legs. The sheer sleeves of my sullied blouse draped to my knees. Even the ocean blue of my corseted top showed mud and berry splotches.

It wasn’t the best choice of garb for berry romping, but others usually had the privilege of selecting my attire since Lady Lokma found me reckless and lacking in this regard. They had hoped I would attend all my lessons today.

They didn’t realize that sometimes my lessons got messy, too.

I said nothing. I was muddy, I was old enough to know better, and I didn’t want to talk to him.

He held up a hand. “You also stained Lafdo.”

Thanks to his illegal grab, the budding vines I had spent an hour painting on my knuckles and wrist were now a colorful blur on both of us. The dye looked like a bruised purple smudge against his russet skin.

Go ahead, point out you touched me. Do it again, and Fredo will kill you.

I still hadn’t spotted Fredo even with the crowd cleared out, but he lurked nearby. He wouldn’t abandon me.

“Lafdo wonders what should be asked for in compensation. Perhaps a lock of your incredibly colored hair.”

Oh, who cares about etiquette?

I dodged the grope aimed at my head and stomped a muddy foot on his shoe before I spun and strode away.

“Caution, Ambassador.” Fredo’s voice came from behind me. Did he know this was an ambassador? I had assumed, but I didn’t know. Sometimes Fredo assumed things with me.

I shouldn’t have stomped on an ambassador. Even an ambassador from Shlykrii.

I looked back over my shoulder, gaze covert through my net-inspired hairdo, but his eyes were not on me. Fredo stood between us in that nonchalant stance he took when assessing a threat, and the Shlykrii-na stared at him, mouth ajar.

Well, my guard had appeared out of nowhere. Plus, if Lafdo had thought my coloring remarkable, it was only because he hadn’t yet seen Fredo. My hair was red, but it was a washed-out shade, like embers peeking through ashes. Fredo’s hair resembled a sky on fire, a deep scarlet sunset somehow tamed in a long, thick braid.

He stepped back, following me without taking his eyes off our guest. Facing forward, I descended the steps into the citadel, confident Fredo always had my back.

At the bottom of the staircase, a shadow glided out of a corner. His skin matched the color of the mountains silhouetted against the night sky, hair a perfect braided coif carved from hematite and eyes a blazing orange.

“Sine, your attention please.”

As if I could have ignored him standing like a tree in the middle of the walkway. His whisper retained a booming quality that sent fear sliding down my spine. Like Fredo, he wore a fitted suit of dark mail and layered strips, but unlike with my trusted guard, my head only came level with this man’s weapon-laden belt.

Being called Sine often annoyed me, but he was particular about titles, so I addressed him by his own. “Yes, Mykta Kietyn?”

He bowed. “I would speak to you in a less conspicuous place.”

Really? It wasn’t like an ambassador followed me or anything.

With an acknowledging nod, I led Kietyn around a corner, not daring a glance behind for Fredo or our guest. This was my sister’s guard, a part of her entourage. She knew everything he did. If possible, Fredo would avoid being spotted.

I brushed my fingers along the uneven stones of the wall, and they took on a metallic sheen, waiting to see if I meant that command.

The citadel that was my home was a self-sufficient city, five levels of labyrinthine corridors and hidden spaces, all constructed—apparently—of marble, stone, and mortar. Such materials were fragile, though, and static, unfit to compose the only official entrance into the River Guardians’ clandestine metropolis, Menyaza.

The walls responded to my touch because access to Menyaza was my right.

I pressed my palm against a shimmering stone, and the wall spun, scooping Kietyn and I into a parallel passage. At another swipe of my fingertips on the correct rock, the mortar glowed, providing illumination as I hurried Kietyn along.

As a young child, I had found my sister’s guard, well, creepy. Often, he seemed a shadow come to life—a very large shadow who normally wore an expression of indifference. I couldn’t identify what was pinned to his countenance now: malcontent, worry, hatred, indigestion?

It made me nervous, and when nervous, I walked and talked fast. And sometimes I was squeaky.

“You-can-speak-freely-here-Mykta.” The sentence sounded like a drumroll.

His glossy eyebrows rose. “In the body of Menyaza?”

I frowned and took a deep breath through my nose to prevent my explanation from sounding like a stampede of chatty geunda—not an animal one should ever proudly compare oneself to unless speaking of luxurious fur growing from one’s rear end.

“The acoustics of this passage are designed to secure secrets, so you must stand within an arm’s length of your listener to be heard.”

“Sufficient. Knowledge is the mightiest and most essential weapon.”

I heard those words so frequently, sometimes I suspected they were written on my forehead and everyone just read them aloud because what else were you supposed to do when you saw something scrawled on someone’s face?

My frown returned. “Is there a reason you’re quoting Eteriq River?”

His fiery gaze narrowed on me. “Do you know the meaning of the phrase?”

Of course, I did. River of Menyaza unified our world, and the value he placed on knowledge was what made it a commodity on Seallaii.

“Knowledge is the most important component.” I mimed a lunge with a rapier. “A sword is worth nothing if you don’t know which end to hold or where to stab. Spears, arrows, and shuriken all require some awareness to wield. Explosives demand a certain finesse. Even words can prove lethal if dipped in the right blend of wisdom.”

Only the edge of his eyebrow lifted, and I wondered how he did that.

“Do you believe these methodologies could be stumbled upon in ignorance?”

Unable to hold back a smile, I answered with another quote of River. “Ignorance is a blade, and knowledge forms its hilt.”

Again, I couldn’t tell what his expression held, but I felt his smile before it appeared.

See, this is a mykta. It’s right for me to sense his inner self. It means I’m growing up.

“Forgive my doubt. You are a child, but it seems your sister’s faith in you is not as unfounded as I argued.”

My sister has faith in me?

The tingle returned, warm and fluttering through every part of me. Had I said anything aloud, it would have been a garbled squeak, so I just nodded.

Was my sister watching this?

“Since you recognize the value of knowledge, you understand I do not reveal this lightly. Shlykrii plans an attack.”

“What?” My eyes grew so wide, they must have looked like two halves of a sliced grapefruit. “Then the Shlykrii-na who just arrived, you’ll”—torture was an improper word for a River Guardian—“um, coax information out of him? Use him as a hostage? Or is he a defector?”

“He is a spy, as ambassadors are.”

Ouch. Ambassador was one interpretation for my Sine title. I hadn’t been born to the River Guardian clans. Like the mathematical term that expressed the relationship between two parts of a triangle, I stood in the middle, an outsider who might blab River Guardian secrets or a River Guardian who might channel information on outsiders.

Paranoia and etiquette are equally annoying.

I let the jab roll off my shoulders and imagined it crunched beneath my heel. “Their target isn’t anywhere on Seallaii.”

“We believe the attack will be on the planet Grenswa, yet Shlykrii is our ally.”

“As is Grenswa!” I loved how their culture dripped in art, beauty, and a legendary determination. I hadn’t been there or met one of its people, but I was sure that future experience would only make me love it more.

“We are the allies of notorious enemies, and we will not be seen interfering between them. This is only the surface of Shlykrii’s secrets. For example, we do not know why Ambassador Lafdo requested to meet you specifically.”

They brought him here just to see what would happen?

Dismay dragged down on my expression.

“That being said,” Kietyn continued, “Grenswa deserves a warning.”

“Am I supposed to be present at that conference call”—I bounced on my heels—“to provide a River Guardian presence?”

“Shlykrii would make themselves privy to that. They watch us too closely.”

“Then…”

“You will be our messenger. You will find a datapin in your jewelry box. It contains what information we can share with our Grenswa-na allies and is encrypted in the Menyazé language so only a River Guardian will be able to read it.”

My uncle must have prepared it for them, another Sine like me.

“You will go alone and remain unseen, arranging your own transportation and telling no one your itinerary. You will inform only one person here of your departure, one capable of covering for you before the Shlykrii-na ambassador.”

Elation and dread warred over me. I wanted to leap for joy. I wanted to sink to my knees in despair. Instead, I stood there with my legs shaking, barely holding my weight.

“The Grenswa-nas won’t know I’m coming? Trespassers are forbidden.”

A tiny smirk peeked from the corner of Kietyn’s thin lips, though it was more sarcastic than anything else. “Those pretty pink eyes of yours are the sign of an eteriq, yes? Surely you are smart enough to figure something out.”

Continued in Chapter 2: You See My Dreams

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