River’s End ch 9: Best Left to Professionals

The green-eyed stranger scurried back, and I covered my mouth, inadvertently inhaling another lungful of leyrah from my hands. This effected another round of poorly concealed coughs that sounded too much like maniacal laughter.

As my breaths calmed, I rolled into a near-sitting position and dared a peek through my fingers at Hent. He was gorgeous, features delicate and long. His thick hair, darker than the deepest corner of space, hung over one cheek.

He glared at me.

Since Grenswa-nas didn’t breathe by the typical definition of that word, neither did they sneeze. Hent probably thought I spit on him.

My brain scrambled to find any fluke of Grenswa-na culture that might make it not offensive to spit directly in someone’s face.

I came up with nothing. Spitting in someone’s face was offensive to every tribe of Grenswa, especially among the Sapphire, where it was equivalent to saying, ‘Go crawl in a hole and die.’ Which was exactly what I felt like doing at that moment.

At least this green-eyed Hent was Emerald or Viridian, not Sapphire.

Emerald, I decided, based on his pale skin’s opacity and his scales’ metallic luster. A Viridian’s scales would have been more neon.

Despite his coloring, he had to be related to Timqé. It was as if someone had taken the same model and thinned its lines, but from what I had read, mixed families were rare.

Now a long arm’s length away, Hent still glared.

Apologies poured from my mouth, muffled through my hands. “I’m so, so sorry! I…I’m allergic to leyrah, and it was in my mouth, and…I didn’t know you were there!”

“You looked right at me.”

His eyes were not the streaked peridot I had first seen, instead pools of the deepest, darkest teal. If I’d had to color the word ‘suspicion,’ that would have been the marker I chose, and then I’d have framed it with his sharply featured face.

“People in the middle of allergic reactions’ren’t always the most coherent.” Blu wrapped an arm around my shoulders as he offered me a clean napkin. I didn’t know where he got it from. Everything had a coating of leyrah, like off-white snow. “Show a little more sympathy. The real question here’s how this leyrah ended up turnin’ into a typhoon and redecoratin’ the dinin’ room.”

“Like I said, I wanted a sandwich,” Hent explained, glare undiminished. “The last of the bread’s on the top shelf, and the stool’d been replaced by a note from Paqo claimin’ such devices’re unsafe and to ask for his assistance if I couldn’t reach anythin’.”

Blu had had his arm around me for an awkward amount of time, and I discreetly wriggled away.

With me out of reach, he crossed his arms, brows rising. “So, instead of askin’ for help, you threw a fit and created a leyrah storm?”

“No, I climbed, but the fifth shelf’s overloaded with heavy leyrah sacks and another note from Paqo about categorizin’ and alphabetizin’ the inventory. Obviously, he put them there because no one else’d be dumb enough to lift them that high. The shelf broke, and the bags exploded.”

Blu waved in a gesture almost like the Sentinel’s. “And you didn’t use the cleanin’ system to take care of the mess because…?”

“That’s the best part.” Hent said it like one might say discovering that a slaeqa had injected her eggs in them and the hatchlings would soon devour them from the inside out was the best part of their day. “Dear Paqo tampered with the control settin’s. Instead of suckin’ the mess away, the system blew it into that typhoon, and I couldn’t do anythin’ to stop it because dear Paqo put a password on the panel. After that one command to turn it on, I couldn’t do anythin’.”

“Well, you’d better get to work now, Mess Maker.” Blu rummaged through a closet just beyond the double doors, found a short broom, and tossed it at Hent.

Sweeping up this mess with that little tool would take him the rest of the very long Grenswa-na day and night.

Hent drooped, semi-bushy, black silken tail brushing the floor. “This’s mostly Paqo’s fault.”

“Paqo’s broken at the moment.” Blu motioned to me. “Though this girl…what’s your name, actually?”

“Rose, like the Earth-na flower.”

“That’s kind of weird, but also cool. Anyway, Rose’s gonna fix Paqo, and he’ll fix the cleanin’ system, but you’d better get a head start in case Rose can’t actually fix Paqo.”

“Thank you for that overwhelming expression of confidence,” I mumbled, kneeling alongside the collapsed machine.

Hent turned a pitiful gaze on me. “I never thought I’d say this in anythin’ regardin’ Paqo, but may your repairs be swift and successful.”

I blinked, but the scene didn’t change. Hent’s eyes were no longer teal. Deep sapphires had taken the place of his irises, his pupils almost lost amongst their darkness.

“What color are you?”

Hent turned away and started sweeping, flustered strokes creating more of a cloud than a neat pile.

I let my gaze drop to Paqo, chastened.

A Grenswa-na’s color was supposed to be glaringly obvious. One who went to great lengths to hide his race usually did so for good reason, and Hent had hidden every clue he could. His baggy pants covered his feet. On each hand, a tight, soft gauntlet extended to mid-forearm, concealing wrist and knuckles in azure fabric. Same as Blu’s, a shoulder-length sheet draped from his hat to veil his ears.

Instead of acknowledging my rudeness, Hent ignored me, which was probably for the best. Still, I had an idea as to what he was, and I wanted to hear him admit it. As I worked on Paqo, I lobbed corner-eye glances at him, hoping to catch him manifesting yet another color.

Blu plodded off to the back of the kitchen, and the faint beeps of him stabbing buttons trickled through the doors amid curses directed at Paqo. I had to finish these repairs quickly and prove his lack of confidence in me unwarranted.

Paqo stunk like scorched metal, but my nose wouldn’t tell me exactly where the problem was; my delicate sense of temperature would. Like a trained dapkie followed its nose to its quarry, I followed my sensitive fingers, tracking the heat to the Sentinel’s chest beneath a series of white ribs.

I pried my nails under them, shimmied a few free, and shoved a collection of muscle-like black cords aside to reveal a seared panel made of glass and thin wires.

Waterproof but susceptible to surges. If I scratch away the black ash and splice the damaged wiring, that should fix it, as long as the polarity of the metal hasn’t been reversed.

My work was swift. By the time I pushed the last refurbished slide into Paqo’s chest, Hent had cleaned a circle barely an arm’s length in diameter. Granted, he was a slow sweeper.

The Sentinel shot into the air with a squeal like a microphone crashing into a speaker. I shuffled back. Hent dropped his broom and covered his ears.

Blu rushed into the dining room. “Paqo!” Equal parts anger and joy rode the exclamation.

The Sentinel glanced around in a good imitation of bewilderment. “Who are all of you?”

Blu’s jaw dropped. “You don’t remember? Not even me?”

“I remember nothing whatsoever. Why is this lady sitting on such a filthy floor? This is all uncommonly strange.”

I got to my feet. “You’re sure you don’t remember anything about the cleaning system? Nothing at all?”

“How you insult me, Miss. I know everything there is to know about cleaning systems. What information do you require? One for this size building—”

Hent held his broom like a hammer aimed at Paqo’s head. “No, what do you remember about you messin’ with the controls and enactin’ a password on them that no one else knows?”

“Another insult!” More circle gestures. “I would have done no such thing. I only do exactly as I am told.”

“Ha!” That came from Blu.

“Do you find these accusations amusing, young man?” Paqo whirled on him, and the waiter didn’t have a chance to move before the Sentinel had him pinned against the kitchen wall. At least his scales were just as capable of breathing water as they were air and he didn’t have to worry about drowning in the cascade.

“No, it’sn’t actually that funny.”

“Then you like performing rude noises in front of all?”

“Put me down.” Blu squirmed to no avail. “Laughin’s not rude. If somethin’s funny or if a point needs to be made, everyone laughs.”

“I do not laugh,” Paqo claimed, and I very much believed it.

“Well, you’re just a loony wacko-head.”

Paqo stiffened, diode eyes switching from indigo to red. I had seen that before, when Ambassador Lafdo’s Sentinels attacked Fredo. But Fredo had weapons and a shipload of skill. I would have bet on him every time.

Blu’s only defense was, “What? I didn’t say anythin’ that’sn’t true.”

Paqo smashed him against the wall again and again.

Hent and I jumped on Paqo, but it accomplished little. The war machine maintained balance even with Hent clinging to its shoulders and me tugging on its waist. I kicked at its legs, bruising my bare toes.

Both boys zapped the Sentinel—and me, incidentally—with another round of electricity. My muscles locked, and I was on fire. Neon, psychedelic fire that stole all my senses.

I fell into that void, unaware of the arms that caught me.

* * *

“Rose, wake up. Wake up!”

The voice of a stranger. Why would I sleep in a stranger’s arms?

Because I can’t move.

Nausea clawed through me, talons raking deeper at even the thought of moving.

“No. The world is spinning.”

The stranger laughed, a warm, sweet sound like brown sugar sprinkled over a steaming breakfast. My eyes fluttered open.

“The world’s always spinnin’, just mostly people don’t notice.” Hent’s eyes were a mesmerizing azure—deeper than Blu’s and brighter than Timqé’s—matching the color of his gauntlets and the shirt beneath his dark, leathery vest.

I must admit I stared.

After an awkward pause, he added, “Don’t spit on me.”

Blu snorted. “Though it’s a proper, unblamable reaction, seein’ that ugly mug first thin’ wakin’ up.”

“Don’t be so mean. Hent is not at all ugly.” Heat flooded my cheeks, and I shut my mouth before I could confess that Hent was one of the most handsom people I had ever seen.

“But I’m cuter, right?” Blu fished.

I affected a snobbish glare and trained it on him. “You’re certainly more vain.”

Eclipsing my view of his reaction, Paqo jumped in—not a scorched mess this time because I guess I had taken the brunt of the surge. “Worry for you nearly consumed me like an incinerator’s fire!”

“Crazy machine! What is wrong with you?” I scrambled out of Hent’s hold and hid behind him. My hands hovered just above his shoulders.

Arms flailing, Paqo decried, “How outrageously rude!”

“Describing yourself?”

“Jumping candysticks! I could never—”

“Before we veer too off subject...” Hent leaned against a broken table, dark tail swaying in long, slow spirals, keeping a broom upright without actually holding it.

I must not have been out long enough for them to clean anything. Splintered furniture and shattered dishes still littered the tile floor. Flour caked every surface, clouding the stream that formed the base of the cascade walls.

“Paqo, you rarely interpret commands in any practical way, but you’ve never attacked Blu before. What’s wrong?”

“I think he lost his somewhat-short-term memory.” Blu rubbed at the Paqo-hand-shaped mark on his bicep. “That happens sometimes when he gets zapped.”

“We can prove that?” Hent’s azure eyes dipped into teal again.

Fascinated, I contemplated how to prove my own theory.

Paqo stirred the dusty air with rapid, circular gestures. “If anything is for certain—”

“I don’t want to hear anythin’ from the insane machine.” Hent kept his gaze on Blu, who shrugged.

“We all just met Rose. Ask Paqo who’s she. If he doesn’t know, that should prove he doesn’t remember recent stuff.”

Hent casually hooked a thumb in my direction. “Paqo, who’s she?”

Paqo didn’t make a sound.

“Hello? If there’s anythin’ inside your head, we’d really like to know.”

Still no response.

“Someone get me a hammer.”

Paqo shivered, posture a praiseworthy emulation of terror despite its mostly immobile countenance. The machine’s jaw could move up and down—open when talking, closed when quiet—but that was the extent of its facial mobility. I guess if my face were stripped down to a skull with diodes for eyes and outrageous, horn-like ears, I’d be limited in my expressions, too.

Blu waved. “Paqo, you can talk now, you know.”

“Phew!” The machine drooped as if it exhaled. “What a relief. I wondered how long you would cruelly have me continue like that, and under threats, no less!”

Blu cut a sly glance at Hent. “It’s because you told him you didn’t want to hear anythin’ from him.”

“I’d prefer he answer the question with the least possible added drama.”

Blu grinned, tail flicking playfully. “With Paqo, that’s like leaving crysslist out of a crysslist soufflé.”

Hent whirled around me, gloved hands landing on my shoulders and shoving me toward the Sentinel. “Answer Paqo: Who’s she?”

“She does appear a trifle familiar.” Paqo’s indigo diodes fixed on me too intently.

With a jolt, I realized I didn’t know how much data this machine had access to. It might have been about to reveal my true identity.

Before it had too much time to analyze, I interrupted, “The more specific question is if you remember what happened when I walked into the restaurant earlier today.”

“I do not recall earlier today.”

“That settles that.” Hent tossed his broom, and it speared halfway through the nearest water wall. “I vote Paqo gets to clean up the mess he’s entirely responsible for, and we get to watch until we find somethin’ better to do.”

That sounded fair, if not the most entertaining.

The Sentinel commenced vacuuming via some apparatus in its arm, but Blu objected, “Paqo can’t clean up anythin’ by himself. It’ll never get done.”

Hent begrudgingly reclaimed the broom. Purple pooled in his eyes. “I never did get my sandwich.”

Wringing my idle hands, I stepped around him. “Blu, can you show me the cleaning system controls?”

Blu shoved open one of the kitchen doors and pointed at a blinking panel on the back wall. “They’re right over there next to the pantry.”

Hent perked up. “You can fix it?”

“I can try.” I pried off the panel’s front casing, and five million wires greeted me. “Paqo, you know-it-all, come here. I need your help.”

The machine plodded over proudly. “How may I be of assistance?”

Blu’s round face scrunched. “You don’t know what you’re doin’, but you’re takin’ it apart anyway?”

“To know exactly what you’re doing is a rare commodity. Paqo, which of these wires carries the electrical current activated when a correct password character is keyed?”

“This one.” It reached into the snarled mess and plucked out a rubber-wrapped cord. Whatever good intentions the machine had toward handing it to me, its fingers were claws. The wire snapped, frayed ends recoiling in opposite directions.

“Thanks a lot, Paqo.” Hent stood behind me, pretending to sweep.

As Paqo’s circuitous gestures resumed and it again denied its ability to be guilty, I called, “Blu, come here.”

“I don’t think I want to.” He remained sitting on the leyrah-covered counter.

“Don’t be so stubborn. Nothing will happen to you.”

He crossed his arms, cyan eyes and scales gleaming eerily in the shadow of his hat’s brim. “How do you know? You don’t know what you’re doin’.”

“Blu can be a big baby sometimes. Can I help instead?” Hent stepped closer, and an odd chill ran through me. Normally, if anyone stood this near, I could feel their warmth, but Hent’s presence was a cool breeze whisking away all heat.

Would he notice that I didn’t do the same?

Putting on a gracious smile, I retreated a pace. “You know how you zapped Paqo? Can you do it again?”

Hent smirked, eyes sliding back into azure. “Sure, I’ll zap Paqo again if you think it’ll help.”

Hands raised, I stepped between him and the machine. “No, can you zap anything you want to, the wire in particular?”

“Of course. Anyone can do that.” He held out his hand, and I dug out the broken cord.

“Just making sure you aren’t some freak who can’t.”

Did I just call myself a freak? At least he didn’t ask why I don’t shock it myself.

I placed the frayed wire on his palm. “Zap this in short, gentle bursts until it says access granted.”

Hent’s partially covered fingers curled around the wire, and tiny electric buzzes counted off the seconds. I had his divided attention, and we had to wait anyway. What a perfect time to commence with operation interrogation.

I donned a coy smile. “If Blu is a vain baby, are you an adventurer?”

Hent’s gaze hopped to me, then returned to his hand. “When I get an opportunity.”

“Hey, don’t let her disrespect me like that!” Blu called.

Hand on my hip, I half twisted in his direction. “If you’re not a fraidy-quunee, come over here.”

Blu leaned back against the wall. “Nope. When you blow up that half of the buildin’, someone has to be over here to survive and tell the tale.”

I rolled my eyes. “Hent, do you believe I will blow us all up?”

Hent’s head listed to one side. “Manufacturers work hard to make that extremely unlikely.”

“You’d place more confidence in some abstract manufacturers than in me, who’s standing right in front of you?”

The corners of Hent’s lips folded, like a semblance of a shrug that only moved the lower portion of his face. “I don’t really know you.”

“Fair point, but you don’t really know the manufacturers either, do you?”

“Paqo, how many letters’re in your stupid password?”

One hundred forty-seven correct characters filled the screen already.

The machine’s offended circle gestures resumed. “I would never—”

“Does teal mean worry?” I inserted.

“Green’s worry. Teal’s suspicion and caut—” Hent clamped his mouth shut, irises submerged in teal again.

Pride stretched a smile across my face. “You do change color based on your emotions.”

“What of it?” Barely visible beneath the drape of his hat, the deepest blue-green swirled over the scales at his temples like contradictory, glistening shadows.

“That’s awesome. Why try to hide it?” I pushed his hat back, and more midnight black hair spilled over his face. Starting at his ears, the color of eggplant swept in, overtaking his eyes last.

“Because sometimes I’d rather not be immediately recognized.” He re-positioned his hat, and from the way he glared at me, deep purple must have meant annoyance.

I blinked. My pink eyes immediately identified me as a Sine on Seallaii, but I never thought of that as a drawback.

He’s a color-changing Opal. They’re treasured, practically worshipped. They’re supposed to be the kindest, most rational, pure-hearted people.

They were also extremely rare. According to our records, only three Opals currently lived in all the world and beyond.

Hent was not King Ranjial, who at forty-nine would have been middle-aged for a Grenswa-na. Nor was he Lintzii, a girl of about ten.

“Hent.” I gasped, both hands covering my mouth. “Your full name is Hentanjinii Etris Tyawanya|”—the name ended with a shallow clicking sound like a single tsk—“Grenswa’s second prin—”

Hent dropped the wire and clapped a hand over my mouth. “If you remind Paqo of my title, I’ll stuff you down the drain.”

A sink lurked behind me, a deep sink with small, unfiltered drains. Some mechanism likely waited to chop large food debris or victims like me into finer pieces so nothing clogged the pipes.

So much for ‘kindest’ being part of the Opal description.

Blu was instantly between us, shoving Hent back. “Whoa! Back off. Rose kind of freaks out when you touch her.”

Embarrassment broiled my cheeks again, and my hands curled into fists. “I do not freak out when…Blu stay out of this.”

I elbowed him, and he flailed before falling into a somersault.

“Hent, I apologize for figuring out your poorly concealed secret.” To prove I could stand near people and not freak out, I swiped the hat off his head and positioned myself close enough to whisper in the prince’s ear. “In exchange, I’ll share one of my own secrets. I can’t zap anything.”

Deep purple faded to lavender. “Can’t? Why?”

I shrugged. “I was born this way.”

“How…” His face twisted, and I knew the question he tried to phrase. A Grenswa-na’s electrical system was closely linked with their digestive and respiratory systems and a vital part of their immune system.

I shrugged again and added a sweet smile. “I’m alive, so don’t worry about it.”

“Hello?” a man’s voice called from the front entrance.

Hent and I jumped apart.

“A customer!” Paqo turned toward the doors.

Leaping on the Sentinel, Blu shoved it over and sailed into the dining room. “You stay here. I’ll handle it.”

I didn’t think there was a place for the customer to sit or a clean spot for us to make his order, but I wasn’t an expert. Such things were best left to professionals.

Hent still stared at me with some mixture of concern and fascination, color churning into a pale aqua.

I giggled. “What, no green?”

With a scowl, he snatched the hat and shoved it down over his head. Return of the eggplant.

“I wish my every fleeting emotion didn’t flash for everyone to see. Don’t point them out.”

Blu’s voice cut through the still-swinging door. “Hey, Hent! This peace officer says he wants to talk to everyone.”

Peace officer. I froze at the title, recalling our mad dash through the drenched shipyard.

The sound of an electric bullet ripping the air.

Fredo…

Fredo…

Hent glided past me and pushed through the doors, and I saw him.

It was the same peace officer who had killed Fredo.

Continued in chapter 10: Volcanos are a Planets Pimples

Thank you for reading!