River’s End ch 10: Volcanos are a Planet’s Pimples

“Found you. That’s one mystery solved.”

As my heart dripped to my shoeless, leyrah-covered toes, I scrambled out of sight and pressed my spine against the wall beside the exit. The door swung closed behind Hent, and it muffled his reply, not that I could hear anything over my throbbing pulse. I needed a plan.

My eyes scoured the room for a weapon. This was a kitchen. Were there knives?

None that were readily apparent.

Pans? Pots?

Again, none within sight.

There was Paqo. He was too heavy to wield effectively.

Think, Rose! River Guardians win battles intellectually.

No footsteps heralded the approach of men to carry me away. No one barged through the door with a triumphant smirk of villainy and pointed me out to doom incarnate.

Curiosity and realization tugged me from the wall. Had the officer not meant he had found me?

It seemed logical that he meant Hent. I wouldn’t have guessed Grenswa’s second prince belonged in a trashed restaurant with a dysfunctional Shlykrii-na war machine and an interesting waiter. Obviously, he came here often, but he was supposed to be elsewhere, and this officer had come to fetch him. He wasn’t here to hunt me down.

Keeping low, I slid to the crack where the two doors met and peeked into the dining room.

“You killed one of them!” Hent’s fingers pressed against his temples.

The Onyx officer stood in the center of the ransacked dining room, and flour caked the deep blue hem of his wide pants. A new day had brought him a fresh uniform without a trace of Fredo’s blood. “They’re trespassers. You think we should just let them invade?”

“No, but…” Hent threw his hands in the air, and his hat fell. His ebony hair didn’t quite cover the golden scales on his ears. “Last time a Seallaii-na’s killed, they demanded compensation. A life for a life, but since they live thirty times longer than we do, they wanted thirty lives in exchange for the one lost.”

The officer nodded solemnly, hands hidden behind his back. “That’s an official ambassador, though, and a casualty of an attempted rebellion. That quota of thirty’s more than filled by the captured rebels back then.”

Hent crossed his arms. “I don’t believe one Seallaii-na’s worth thirty Grenswa-na lives.”

Fredo and I were not invading. We were trying to help them.

I pursed my lips to stifle a sob, but a disobedient tear traced a path through the leyrah coating my face. Was Fredo worth thirty lives? To me, he was worth a billion, but to those who would do the demanding?

To them, Fredo was no one. My sister would say good riddance if not even offer a prize.

Yet, what would they demand in exchange for me? A Sine was a symbol of tradition and future, of knowledge turning into wisdom. I was not yet wise, elegant, or revered, but it was this lost potential that would spark outrage.

I saw Grenswa-na cities burning.

No, we wouldn’t do that. Intellect is our choice weapon.

Sometimes intellect is flammable.

“You can’t say no to them, though.” Hent’s tail whipped back and forth. “They’re monsters, but they’ren’t the kind you know to run from, more beautiful than anythin’ has a right to be. They steal your will, turnin’ you into a mindless pet. You want to do whatever they want you to.”

No. We. Don’t. How dare you spread such lies!

“Then we make sure they don’t find out,” the officer proposed.

Teal rippled over Hent’s scales, and his tail paused mid-flick. “He’sn’t someone they’ll miss?”

The officer lifted his hands, knuckles flecked in glossy black. “Doesn’t matter. Destroy the body and any evidence he’s here, and if they ask, we claim he never arrived.”

Disgust bubbled in my gut, soured further by his next words.

“Of course, we also must find and silence the other one. Which brings me back to my original question: You’ve seen anyone you don’t know?”

Sitting in a sulk on one of the least damaged tables, tail twitching, Blu growled, “This’s a very busy restaurant in one of the world’s largest cities. I see a lot of strangers in a day.”

“I can see that.” The officer’s lightless gaze darted across the unoccupied mess.

I backed away from the door, barely daring to breathe.

Had he come here to report this to Hent directly? Or had he happened to run into his prince while canvasing the area?

Why couldn’t it have been anyone else? He only had to tell them I was disguised as Pink and had dusty red hair. That would have been suspicious enough, but I even wore the same outfit as when I dove into the river. Once he mentioned a turquoise shirt with copper chain belts and purple bloodstains? There would be no doubt.

Even in different clothes, he would recognize me. This shadow had looked me directly in the eyes as he pressed a knife to Fredo’s throat.

I doubt he’s still alive, but just to make sure…

“You are Seallaii-na, yes?”

Paqo.

I leapt out of my skin. “W-wh-why would you say that?”

“Because you clearly are Seallaii-na.” The machine ticked off reasons on its claws. “You speak like them, your scales are fake, and your figure is certainly not Grenswa-na. Your breasts, for instance, are like a pair of jarro.”

I pictured the fruit in question, its dimpled, pale orange peel bright against midnight blue leaves in the orchard south of the citadel. For size, a jarro compared to an Earth-na grapefruit, but owing to its high copper content, it was azure on the inside. Neither fruit was approved for Grenswa-na consumption.

“I don’t see how it can be rude for me to sit alone at a table with only one chair and be fine for you to say something like that.”

“It is simple.” Paqo’s gestures were less circuitous this time and more like a musical conductor’s. “On Seallaii, it is considered the utmost compliment to be compared to nature.”

“Then you are a volcano. When you start to spew, I advise everyone to flee.”

“Since volcanos are a large, integral part of nature and you are Seallaii-na, I shall take that as high praise. Thank you.” The machine bowed.

“Volcanos are a planet’s pimples.” I removed my cloak. What could I do to look less recognizable? “Paqo, don’t tell anyone of my true heritage. They must believe I’m Grenswa-na.”

“You ask me to lie? Because you are here illegally?” It sounded so aghast.

“Of course not. I ask you to be discreet.” Piling my twisted hair atop my head, I draped my cloak on a peg by the door, snatched a hat like Blu’s from beside it, and turned back to the machine. “I am a River Guardian on a top-secret mission to save as many as possible.”

“You should tell everyone that.”

“They don’t listen.” I pulled the hat over my hair, and flour sprinkled my face. I held my breath.

“Oh, dear! Allow me.” Paqo made to smother me with its dusty apron.

I retreated. “Leave it. It’s part of my disguise.”

“This is uncommonly strange, but River Guardians receive the highest of educations. Therefore, you must know what you are doing and the best way to go about it. I shall do my best to assist you by not revealing your identity or motives, even under threat or torture.”

Torture? I rolled my eyes. Okay, Paqo equals melodrama.

While I tried to figure out how best to costume my shirt, my hand brushed Fredo’s pistol still tangled in my belts. My thumb rubbed the warm metal, smooth except for the tiny letters engraved along the barrel. I didn’t have to look to know what the mykta proverb said, but I stared anyway.

Why flee to fight in the future? Fight so you never have to flee.

Fredo was not genetically a mykta. Neither had he attended their schools as a pseudo-mykta to train as a warrior without the advantage of a bond. Still, I trusted his skill above theirs. Time and again, I saw him do the impossible.

I had wondered where he acquired one of their weapons and the attire. A gift from the Lokma family, he had said, after the lady announced that a guard who only knew how to use one kind of weapon was no use at all.

My fingers curled around the handle, and a memory washed over me of the one time Fredo had let me hold this destructive tool.

He had practiced with his throwing knives. All sunk into the middle of their wooden targets, even the two hidden around corners, and I squealed in delight. I had calculated how to curve the throw and have the knives ricochet onto the desired course, but working out equations was not the same as transmuting this knowledge into motion.

“Now show me how!” I snatched one of the knives and posed on the thrower’s line, ready for Fredo to take my hand and walk me through the steps.

“How about starting with something simpler?” He swapped the knife for this pistol and showed me how to hold it. To aim. To fire.

My marksmanship had been unfortunate. The wild blitz blew apart a hanging plant and set off a cascade. In the end, that one shot destroyed half of Lady Lokma’s prized garden and buried Fredo and I in a mountain of putrid soil.

He never again placed a gun in my hand.

Now, this was all I had left of him: memories, a weapon, and a choice.

I spun toward the door in a daze and returned to my post. Flight was not an option, not with that Onyx officer blocking my only exit. He had killed Fredo. He wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me, too.

Unless I shot first.

Pushing the door ever so slightly, I widened the crack enough for the pistol’s barrel to slip through. Fear fluttered in my stomach, and I fought to keep my hands steady.

“What are you doing?” Paqo wailed.

I fumbled the shooter and scrambled not to let it fall all the way to the floor. The door closed.

“Murder is the highest form of impoliteness! Unless, of course, you first asked your victim if he wanted to be murdered. Did you?”

“Paqo, you were made for war and invasion,” I hissed.

“No, I was made to know how everything is properly done. For instance, your hat is crooked. A proper young lady would never wear her hat at more than a twenty-degree angle. You had better let me fix it before you blow your cover.”

The Sentinel lumbered toward me, clawed hands stretching to my head. I tried to fend it off.

Thanks to my slapping and Paqo’s insistence, we fell in a tangled heap and hit the floor with a ridiculously loud crash. Flour flew up in our wake like thick fog.

I held my breath again, stomach crushed against the tile by Paqo’s immense weight. One of my legs was twisted at an odd angle and lodged in the Sentinel’s armpit, as was one of my arms, so I lacked the leverage needed to shove the machine off me. Paqo wiggled, further wrenching my shoulder.

“I cannot get up!” the machine cried.

“No, really? I’m holding you down here on purpose.”

“Please cease to do so. I am highly disturbed.”

The double doors flew open to admit Blu, Hent, and the Onyx officer. Thankfully, a generous layer of leyrah coated me, veneering both the color and cut of my clothes. The silly hat had twisted enough that the side flap mostly covered my face. I could only see the trio out of the very corner of my left eye.

“Paqo, stop!” Blu dropped to his knees, an additional deterrent to the officer’s view, and attempted to extricate us. “You’ll suffocate her. And she’s allergic to leyrah.”

“If that machine kills someone, I’ll’ve to confiscate it.” The elbow of the officer’s crossed arms—the only part of him I could see—drew nearer.

Blu whirled on him. “You know, I really, really don’t like you. Get out of my kitchen! Shoo! Leave! Be gone!” Each imperative accompanied a shoving gesture that fell just short of touching the officer.

Way to go, Blu!

Hent took his place, but I didn’t want him touching me. Hent with his lies of Seallaii-na monsters and agreeing with the officer about erasing Fredo’s existence. He wasn’t on my side, or wouldn’t be, if he knew who I was.

If I gave him Seallaii’s message, would he even accept it? Then he would have to admit I had been here.

A half grin sprouted across his lips, eyes deepening from gold to sapphire. “You’re trouble.”

I bit back a retort, attention returning to the officer. He walked away from Blu with a nonchalant shrug.

Returning to my side, the waiter called over his shoulder, “And don’t tell anyone you saw Hent here!”

“Too late for that,” answered a figure in the doorway.

Both boys spun to face him. Timqé had washed the mud away and changed clothes. His hematite gray shirt shimmered beneath a cerulean jacket styled like overlapping armor. His pants matched the blue of his scales, but the dagger strapped to his thigh remained. It complemented the authority now stiffening his shoulders better than it had back in the forest.

With a chuckle, the officer left.

“Get in the kayak, Hent. We’re returnin’ to the island.”

Could he mean Ledatiiss Island, the Royal Capital?

That was a more logical place for Grenswa’s second prince.

Hent made no effort to get up. “I’ve practiced enough Shlykrii-na crypt for one day.”

“You can’t just disappear like that.”

“Oh, but you can walk away from it all?” Hent stood.

They were about the same height, at least from my vantage point on the floor, both tall for Grenswa-nas. They were lean, well-structured, and possessed a mesmerizing grace. Both had skin the color of cream and hair like pitch, glossy and straight, though Timqé’s was shorter. Hent’s fell in his face, and his azure eyes and scales drifted toward that eggplant color again.

Timqé grew a half grin akin to the one Hent had shown me. “I’mn’t as pretty as you.”

“Or me,” Blu announced.

Hent scowled, and Timqé gave him a look that was both questioning and disparaging.

A baby blue blush rose in the waiter’s ruddy cheeks. “Did I say that out loud? That should’ve stayed in my head.”

Gaze on the ground, he rubbed the back of his neck. His sudden shyness was cute, especially after the bravado of telling off evil incarnate. I wanted to thank him for that, but I couldn’t have specified a reason for my gratitude.

Instead, I finally succeeded in kicking the Sentinel off me. It flew further than I had intended, limply bowling into the back of Blu’s legs. The waiter flipped and landed on his feet behind the clattering heap that was Paqo. Everyone’s stares were on me, though.

I offered a deep curtsy in Timqé’s direction. “Hello, Timblashanqé, First Prince of Grenswa.”

Hent’s older brother.

He peered closer at me. “Girl from the forest. Forgive my bluntness, but you seem in even worse condition than before.”

“I’ve had quite a day.”

Indeed, who could have guessed I would meet one of Grenswa’s princes in an illegal nighttime forest run, then a few hours later meet the other in a kooky restaurant? Yet, Timqé had been the one who told me to come here.

Friendly people at The Azure Cascade? That describes Blu, maybe.

With a deep breath, I straightened. “An adventurous couple of days, really. I’m on a journey to the island. May I ride with you?”

“Our island?” Had he been Hent, Timqé’s eyes would have changed to teal, but the first prince was simply Sapphire like his mother. “You’ve what business there?”

I frowned. Not just anyone could go to Ledatiiss Island. It moved, its route and location secret. Hundreds lived in the palace complex, though, the best of the best gathered from all over the world.

“I seek employment, but I have no blessing letter because my family would rather I remain a harvester. I have a better knack for puzzles than crops, though, and I specialize in crypt.”

“You ran away?” Hent’s narrowed eyes flashed through several colors.

I pressed on, shoveling every bit of confidence I had into my tale as I met his disapproving gaze. “Shlykrii-na crypt is one of the simplest. I can show you the trick to it.”

Pale lavender was gorgeous swirled with teal.

I put on a small, hopeful smile.

Timqé tsked. “Blessin’ letters’re an ancient tradition. No one’ll hire you without one and run the risk of entanglin’ themselves in a mess with your kin.”

Adult or not, a Grenswa-na belonged to their family, and trades were passed from one generation to the next. If one sought a different residence or vocation, they carried a blessing letter to tout their credentials and prove they had their patriarch’s permission. Runaways were considered deserters and not to be aided. If they were truly worth anything, their family would hunt them down.

But there were always exceptions.

I adopted my best pout. “I’m not the only one who wants something different than what everyone else has planned for me. I have real talent, and I want to use it to help the world. Won’t you give me a chance?”

Timqé’s stare remained stern, but Hent’s softened.

“We gather the best to look after the world, even if their families don’t want to give them up,” the younger prince said. “How’s this any different?”

Timqé didn’t budge. He didn’t move at all aside from the slightest sway of his tail. “We know nothin’ about her.”

“Test me,” I suggested. Cryptology really was one of my best subjects.

“And if we find you can’t even write your own name?”

Then you’ll know you have an educational problem in whatever city I’m from.

Blu spoke before I could. “I’ll hire her.”

Incredulous looks pounced on him from all around, even from me.

He stepped up next to me, arms crossed. “She already fixed Paqo.”

Timqé glanced at the immobile heap of machine on the floor. “I see. She made him a lot less annoyin’.”

“Uh, actually, I just powered him down.” Blu rubbed the back of his neck again. “I’ll vouch for her, though. Rose’s amazin’. Take her to the island, and if it turns out that’s a bad choice, I’ll take the fault.”

“If her family comes lookin’ for her, we’ll send Paqo out to greet them,” Hent added, colored a foggy cyan.

I smiled wide, and Blu mirrored my expression.

Timqé shook his head. “You two would sneak her there anyway if I said no. Alright, load up.” He turned to the double doors, and I followed. “We need to hurry. There’s talk of aliens invadin’, and Mother’s convinced you’ve been abducted, Hent.”

The younger brother shrugged, and though he made every effort to appear nonchalant, he was anything but. His eyes and scales blazed a fiery orange. “Tell her I eloped with some hot Shlykrii-na.”

Timqé’s fists clenched, stride hitching. “That’sn’t funny.”

“No, it’sn’t.”

Tension laced between them, taut as the cords holding up the bridge across my world’s largest ravine. I found it more intriguing than I should have. Hent had said his brother thought he could walk away from it all. Now, mention of elopement garnered a visible response Timqé.

He collected those srymal for his wife.

Grenswa’s first prince had not been married, last I knew. Had Timqé eloped? With a gorgeous Shlykrii-na even?

Here I was with a message saying they would attack.

My eyes widened, and I pursed my lips so these theories didn’t burst out.

Fredo, this is crazy!

Of course, there was no answer.

The only one who retained a smile was Blu, keeping step alongside me.

As we emerged into the dining room, a cry tore through the front arch, full of reproach and betrayal. “Son, what happened?”

Blu’s smile shattered.

Continued in chapter 11: A Snare and a Lie

Thank you for reading!