River’s End ch 5: My Carefully Cultivated Positive Attitude

After launch, Fredo found me sitting atop some stable crates and looking out one of the face-sized portals that dotted the length of the ship.

“Alright, Rosa, we seriously need to discuss our plan.”

That feeling of knowing where your limbs are even when you can’t see them is called proprioception. I had a kind of proprioception for Fredo, only it was about as coordinated as a two-year-old’s. Have you ever seen a baby smack itself in the face? That’s because its proprioception hasn’t really developed yet.

He wanted to know the plan, but I didn’t really have one, and the fear that motivated him to ask distracted me. So, as with most things that distracted me, I called attention to it.

“You’re afraid.”

He seemed about to deny it, then decided that would be pointless. Instead, he put on his lecture face, fingertips tapping against one another. “Let me recite a hypothetical discussion between you and me. Feel free to chime in and play the part of you:

“I ask why I should be afraid, and you counter by asking me how dangerous could a Grenswa-na be. I then ask you to tell me of the Shlykrii war.”

I whirled toward him, dangling heels clunking against the wooden crate. “The Grenswa-nas were the victims.”

“Yes, but the Shlykrii-nas had the advantage, all the technology, and who won?”

“The Grenswa-nas, because they were that cunning, skilled, and determined.”

“And ruthless,” Fredo added. “Don’t sugarcoat them.”

“I know I should be afraid, but I’m also elated and determined. This mission must succeed, even if it costs our lives.”

Fredo’s brows tugged upward, but I barreled on.

“Today we are messengers. Tomorrow we’ll be heroes. We must go, so I wish everyone would quit reminding me how horribly dangerous all this is. It’s suffocating my carefully cultivated positive attitude.”

“Because your optimism is built on a shakier foundation than these unsecured crates.” He rocked my seat, and I cringed, gaze falling to my tangled hands hovering above my lap.

Again, Kietyn’s words tamped through my head.

Surely, you’re smart enough to figure something out.

My optimism was based on that mocking hope, a shaky cornerstone indeed.

“Please trust in my intelligence,” I murmured, glancing up from the corner of my eye. As Fredo’s lips twisted into a half grin, I realized how much that statement begged an insulting comeback and hastily added, “Don’t you dare say anything to imply I lack a brain or the ability to use it.”

He chuckled quietly, and my curiosity rose like a sprout seeking sunlight. What would he have said? Could I sneak into his head and eavesdrop on his now private joke?

As I thought I might try it, he sobered. “I have utmost confidence in your intelligence, Rosa, but I need your trust in return. Tell me what scheme we’ve landed in. What is our message? Who is it for and from?”

I took a deep breath. “Shlykrii plans to attack Grenswa. That is Seallaii’s official message to that endangered world. The datapin in my hair contains more details coded in Menyazé. I’m not an idiot; I know we can’t just stand in the doorframe of this transport and call out Shlykrii plans an attack, and I also know as foreigners we can’t step foot off this ship without invitation from the proper authorities. Dollii thinks my uncle’s name is a code, so when we get closer, I’ll send it as a herald, but just to be safe, until we reach the protective entities of Grenswa, we’ll have to pretend to be Grenswa-nas.”

I dug in my bag and pulled out the purple cosmetics I would use to emulate scales on Fredo’s skin.

As I captured his hand and unwound his vambrace, Fredo objected, “Neither of us has the stature of a Grenswa-na. We’re too tall and strongly structured.”

“I won’t be any taller than most of the men.” I applied the color to his knuckles with a swirling motion, trying to give the appearance of a scalloped texture.

Unlike the females’ stained fingertips, males’ scales speckled their knuckles and wrists, the latter fading in a short gradient across the base of their palms and up their forearms. The metallic purple matched Fredo’s eyes and brightly contrasted his ruddy skin.

“It’s you who will stand out like a tree,” I teased.

“Then in your infinite wisdom, you’d have me disguise myself by carrying foliage. I’ll be sure to inform anyone who inquires that I’m a walking tree.”

“If you think that’s best,” I chirped as I applied sealant to the artwork on his left hand. “We could instead chop you in half at the waist. Then I’d have two mykta.”

“One for kicking and the other for punching.”

“Sure, I’d kick and punch both halves a lot and sew you back together eventually. Give me your other hand.”

“I underestimated your skills in persuasion. The tree disguise is starting to have some appeal.”

I chuckled. “By some Earth-na measurements, we need you to lose at least half a foot.”

“Earth-nas measure in feet, as in the appendages held on by ankles?”

I finished the seal on his right hand. “Yep. Speaking of feet, take your shoes off.”

“Feet aren’t consistently sized though.” His bared toes settled on the smooth wooden surface between us. Fredo was rarely missing his boots and greaves, and as I repeated the scaly pattern on his ankles, heels, and toes, I realized feet in general had an odd shape.

I shrugged. “They measure in hands as well.”

“Where does it end?” he exclaimed too dramatically. “Do they officially measure by forearms, hairsbreadths, noses? And whose body are they using?”

He held his hand to mine, straightening my fingers with his own, and his palm alone was nearly the size of my whole hand. Our pink and purple faux scales made it an alien sight.

“Any reason I can’t be the standard? Turn your head.”

“I think you would get annoyed when they came and got you every time they needed to measure something.”

“Be more clever, Fredo.” I brushed shimmery purple on the top of his earlobe. “They would make a cast and have as many copies of my body parts as they needed.” I paused. “On second thought, that sounds creepy. Let me see your other ear.”

Fredo turned his head. “So, back to my tree disguise.”

“You could always walk on your knees.”

“That also sounds crippling.”

Thick, stray strands of his fiery hair kept sticking in the creamy pigment, and I swept them away impatiently. Fredo’s braid began at his bangs, taking in more sections as it trekked down the middle of his scalp. It hung loose from his nape all the way to mid-thigh, yet some strands refused to grow past chin-length, and these inevitably escaped the neat plait, hanging in his face or over his ears.

As long as Fredo’s hair managed not to stick to his scales, its vibrancy would only add to his Grenswa-na disguise.

“I think we’re making a bigger deal of your height than we need to. I’m sure exceptionally tall Grenswa-nas come along every once in a while. You’ll just have to play a convincing Grenswa-na in every other aspect, such as your makeup.” With one last flourish of my sealant brush, I finished with his left ear.

“It’s lovely. Thank you.”

“I also brought Grenswa-na clothes for you from the Sojourners’ treasure trove.”

Scrounging in my bag again, I pulled out a pair of baggy pants and a stretchy shirt, both black as Fredo preferred. “They should be your size. You change while I find Bongii and work out more details.” I dropped the garments in his lap.

“There had better not be anyone else hiding in these boxes,” he muttered as I walked away.

* * *

“Honored Elder!” I called as I entered the narrow corridor between the cargo hold and the hatch.

“Up here, Sine.”

“Up where?”

He directed me up the ladder, past the hatch, and into a slanted compartment inside the pointed pyramid nose of the ship. Bongii and his assistant sat at a complex of controls, guiding our course, but the view beyond the transparent ceiling and walls stole my attention.

“This is amazing!”

Bongii scoffed. “Surely, the Sine has seen such sights before and more amazing sights beyond.”

I resisted the urge to correct him. No matter how young we were, Sine were to maintain the reputation of knowing everything about the natural aspects of the universe. Of course, I had seen pictures of Seallaii’s magnificent rings; I had studied why they dazzled, but that was nothing compared to standing here and seeing it with my own eyes.

We surfed along the underside of the rings, boulders and pebbles scattered for an unfathomable distance, all crystallized with ice and refracting every conceivable color. Just ahead, Sysoosii, one of many child moons, splashed in this craggy rainbow ocean, a panorama of stars laughing at her young antics.

“There is nothing to trump this sight.”

Yet even more dazzling were the Lorsknu—or Unfettered Stars—the rulers of this environment. They were creatures not made of matter but of radiation. The rings were theirs to shape, build, and consume, debris of victims Seallaii had captured for them. They looked like glitter, like galaxies and nebulae sweeping along our transport.

I knew little about them other than they were meant to protect us. They did not like us to leave the safety of Seallaii, but they would not stop us. In their presence, we had to travel slowly, whether for reasons of respect or for threat of physical consequence, I wasn’t sure, but no one should speed by such a sight anyway.

Bongii pulled me from my gawking. “Where’s your mykta?”

“Practicing his hiding skills.”

“He could stand to improve in that after the way that dapkie found him.”

I placed my fists on my hips. “That dapkie would have easily found you, too, Honored Elder.”

“True, but I’m not a mighty mykta.”

“Right, you are a shipman, and I’ve ventured up here to have you answer some shipman questions.”

“Oh, just what I’ve always wanted, to be quizzed by a Sine.”

I ignored his sarcasm. “This ship will land in the Onyx city of Tils?”

“In the shipyard on the city’s northernmost fringes, yes.” He turned to his controls as if double-checking.

“How long could you remain docked there?”

“A Seallaii-na day, at most.” He rubbed his bearded chin. “A week if I feigned engine trouble.”

“Would you—”

“Not for all the treasure of Menyaza. It’s not worth my life, and yes, they’ll kill all involved in this little plot when it’s discovered.”

Frustration furrowed my brow and pulled my lips into a thoughtful pout. If even all the treasure of Menyaza would fail to sway him, as would future River Guardian goodwill, what else could I offer? Feminine wiles, maybe, but I really didn’t want to.

“Do I hear you refusing the Sine when she came to you for help?”

I whirled as Fredo appeared on the ladder behind me, amethyst gaze vibrant at the prospect of action.

I’m handling this, I thought at him.

Whether or not he heard, my imperious countenance was clear enough, and he raised an eyebrow at me as he stepped into the compartment. His movements were like the graceful chaos outside, a display of measured power and control as he slid into a position between Bongii and I, a tangible shield but not blocking my line of sight.

“You know, Honored Elder,” Fredo supposed, “I could tie you up with the customs officer and make all this look like a hijacking.”

I don’t think Bongii registered the suggestion, shocked gaze raking Fredo’s disguise.

Disregarding the fact that I had never met a Grenswa-na in person, Fredo looked pretty convincing to me with his shimmering scales, bare feet in deference to how Grenswa-nas never wore shoes, and long, baggy pants cinched at the waist with a purple sash. His muscles were well sculpted, perhaps a little conspicuously when showcased by the tight, sleeveless shirt, but it certainly didn’t look bad.

My triumphant smirk fell as my eyes caught a glint of silver on Fredo’ right wrist. He had removed one of the shield emitters from his vambrace and now wore it as a bracelet, which wouldn’t have been egregious at all had it not mimicked the design of my Sine swirls.

“Oh, high heavens, you really do plan to sneak off on Grenswa. I’ll tell you I’ve made this trip dozens of times and not even my pinky toe has ever touched their land.”

“A shame, Honored Elder, that the cowardice in your pinky toe outweighs the scant ambition in the rest of your body,” Fredo goaded. “It must be hard to walk.”

Bongii smiled. “How old are you, boy? Not even a year, I’d bet.”

True, since the time it took Seallaii to travel once around our sun, Pyr, was thirty times the length of the moon cycles we used to count our ages. The moons controlled our seasons, and the interval that passed before they reset was a period close to an Earth-na year.

“When this mission succeeds, and it will, won’t the one who transported the Sine to her destination and safely home be showered with the greatest honor Seallaii can offer?”

“You would turn me into a legendary mykta?” Bongii shook his head. “That may be your ambition, but I’m a simple man. I’m older than your ages squared, combined, and tripled, and it’s listening to wisdom’s whisper that has kept me alive so long. Sometimes wisdom requires a bit of cowardice. Sometimes it requires the spine to stand here and say no, even to a Sine and a mykta with a scary glint in his eyes.”

I stepped forward, protests springing to my lips, but Bongii held up a hand.

“I’m sure you have your reasons, Sine, but I want as little as possible to do with all of this.”

“Then you leave your safety and that of your family and world to chance?” I pressed.

“Leave safety to gain safety?” He grunted. “I’ll leave that to brave souls and famous faces like you.”

“So, a hijacking, then?” Fredo glanced back for my confirmation.

Bongii sighed. “I’ve got no wish to join the customs officer. How about this: I’ll choose the slowest harbor workers and stay in the shipyard for as long as I can, but the moment something goes down, I’m leaving. Fair enough?”

I nodded. “As fair as we can expect from a cowardly old man, I suppose.”

“A little tact goes a long way.” Bongii’s hand smeared down his face. “Here’s the best advice a cowardly old man can give you: If you want to live, do whatever it takes to survive, even if it means swallowing your pride.” There was no humor in the austere gaze he pinned on me, only sympathy and a bit of worry. “Now, I’d advise you find some cushy spot and get some rest. Grenswa’s day is a lot longer than Seallaii’s.”

I knew that. Since Grenswa’s distant sun appeared barely distinguishable from other stars, its day was based on its light cycle, not on how long it took to turn around. On Grenswa, day was associated with the moon, and one light cycle lasted twenty-five hours.

A Seallaii-na day lasted only ten hours, six of light and four of darkness. We weren’t designed to stay awake or asleep for the extended periods of Grenswa’s day or night.

With a nod, I headed back to the cargo area, Fredo following.

After the view of outside, the ladder’s corridor seemed narrow, as if my hips would get stuck at any moment. I closed my eyes, listening to the rhythm of our hands and feet on the rungs. A metallic chime accompanied every move of Fredo’s right arm.

“Nice bracelet.”

“Thank you, it reminds me of a friend of mine.”

I gritted my teeth. “Because it denotes affiliation with a Sine.”

“It’s more because my friend gets in over her head a lot, and this could save both our lives.”

Beneath his teasing tone, his fear and determination sloshed. It was an odd concoction, a little intimidating, a little intoxicating.

“It could identify us,” I warned, feet on the floor and backing away, “but you’d rather take that chance and fight than need a shield and not have it.”

With a smirk, Fredo slid down to stand alongside me. “It’s like you read my mind. Bongii had a point, though.”

Ducking through a doorway that seemed smaller than when I had come through it earlier, I squinted sideways at him. “What would that be?”

“The Sojourners’ Hierarchy of Directives. The wisdom of the eteriq is to be used first to protect Seallaii, then to help others in need wherever they may be, even at the edge of the universe.”

“We’re doing this to help Grenswa.”

Seriously, were the rusty walls closing in?

Fredo’s gaze bored into the scale-covered fist at his side. “Our duty is to protect Seallaii first.”

“Seallaii isn’t in trouble. Grenswa is.” I raised my chin.

His eyes jumped to mine. “While we are there, we are Seallaii, and we will be in danger.”

“As long as you continue to work that disguise, we’ll probably be fine,” I dismissed and reclaimed my perch atop crates near one of the portals.

“Maybe I really am Grenswa-na,” he countered with a shrug, “you know, since we don’t know where I actually came from.”

My smirk returned. “Hiding a tail and your natural scales, then?”

His eyebrows performed a cute hop, his tell when he feigned nonchalance but the subject meant more to him than he preferred others see. “The River Guardians say a Seallaii-na will change to become what he believes he is.”

“Which adds nothing to the theory of you being Grenswa-na.”

My thumb tapped the side of the tablet I had borrowed from him, scrolling through articles in Menyazé about Grenswa. Fredo sat next to me, peering over my shoulder in companionable silence as I perused accounts of tribal segregation, the implications of the length of one’s name, and other details of Grenswa-na culture.

* * *

The Sojourners had the fastest ships in existence. Unfortunately, Bongii’s clunker was not quite at that level, and several boring and stir-crazy days passed.

Bongii and his nephew assistant had sleeping quarters, of course, complete with traditional Seallaii-na beds. These were thin sod and yewn, animate vines symbiotic with us. As we slumbered, they would curl around us, trapping our heat.

The nightly flowers produced an aroma that garnered deep, peaceful dreams, streamlined memory compartmentalization, and jumpstarted rejuvenating processes. In return, the plants fed on our exhales, excess oils, and slough. Used regularly, they required little water or light.

These beds came in portable versions, but yewn would have withered quickly once exposed to Grenswa’s air, and I wouldn’t be so cruel as to carry it to its death. Instead, I slept on or in the crates. Fredo claimed to as well, but despite many attempts, I couldn’t catch him asleep.

I wasn’t pulled into any nightmares either.

Halfway there, I hacked into the ship’s transmitter and sent my uncle’s name to Grenswa. The computer assured me the message arrived and was read, but no response came.

With nothing better to do, I studied, snacked, exercised, and napped randomly.

During one such snooze, a shudder shot through the ship, and I jolted awake. My head knocked against the round window with a disturbingly hollow sound.

As I blinked away the land of lullaby, the ice on the portal came into focus, thick, geometric shapes constantly stripped and rearranged by screeching wind. Dense clouds glided beyond.

“Fredo, look!”

Head heavy on my shoulder, he finally dozed. Normally, he was a light sleeper, so his continued slumber was a little worrisome, and he was missing the view.

“Fredo, wake up! Fredo!” I shook him until his amethyst eyes flew open, bewildered and confused.

“What?”

“How long had it been since you slept?”

“You woke me to ask me that?” His eyebrows lifted nearly to his hairline.

“No, I woke you to show you we’re entering Grenswa’s atmosphere.” I bounced on my knees in excitement.

“I’m up.” He rose and squinted out the window.

The horizon was a subtle curve, a vibrant green against the blackness of space. Rays shot through the clouds and glistened off an ocean striped with narrow strips of land. The island chains looked like scars scratched across a glittery, glass orb.

By the time the ship touched down with a soft jolt like in an elevator, Fredo and I stood at the base of the ladder to the main hatch. We still hadn’t received a response. Likely, my uncle’s name wasn’t a code after all.

Nerves threw a wild party in my stomach. A land I had always dreamed of seeing, a whole world of beauty and adventure, waited on the other side of that door, a handle turn and push away.

Continued in chapter 6: How a Real Man Handles a Crisis

Thank you for reading!