Song of the Sea Spirit: An epic fantasy novel (The Mindstream Chronicles) (15 page)

The two Truth Sayers and the merchant were offered beds in the guest chamber of the civic building, a small room with four narrow beds to accommodate the occasional traveler. Kaild wasn’t large enough to attract tourists or dignitaries, and it was out of the way for parties traveling by land to Halder, and so there was no inn. The crewmen slept on the beach on their own bedrolls.

Jora spent the evening with her family and friends before climbing into her bed for the night. She wept silently, wishing with all her might that this was but a terrible dream from which she would awaken in the morning.

She rose before dawn, dressed hastily, and tied her hair back into an uncharacteristically sloppy knot. She took a minute to look up the words she wanted to say to Sundancer and wrote notes in her journal, now quite thick with some of the more useful information she’d gleaned from the Book of Azarian. Feeling anxious to reach Sundancer before the Truth Sayers arose, she hurried through town, flute and journal in hand. Though the men sleeping on the beach lifted their heads momentarily to regard her, they said nothing before resuming their sleep.

She picked her way across the rocky shoal to her favorite spot, then dropped the journal on the rocks behind her and sat with her feet dangling over the edge. She played the greeting that had drawn Sundancer to her so many times before, unconcerned about whether the sailors would be bothered by the sound.

For a long moment, nothing happened. She played the greeting again and waited, listening to the rushing waves and watching the black waters for the sleek gray figure to break the surface. “Come on, Sundancer. Please.” Then a horrible thought occurred to her.
What if Sundancer thought yesterday was their last goodbye?
“No, no, no,” she whispered, and played the greeting again and again a few seconds later.

At last, the familiar dorsal fin broke the water and sailed toward her. The relief she felt bubbled out of her chest in a sob. “Oh, Sundancer,” she said. “Thank goodness you came. I couldn’t bear to leave without seeing you one last time.”

“Good morning, Autumn Rain.”

“Good morning, Sun Dancer,”
she played, so filled with emotion that her lips could barely tighten enough to get the notes out.
“Happy see you.”

Sundancer twittered.
“Happy see you. You not go?”

“I go today. Men take me on boat to big city on shore.”

“I know big city. You and I talk more.”

“Yes,” Jora said. “That was what I’m hoping.” She lifted the flute to her lips.
“I not know when.”

“I wait. You come. I teach calling.”

“What is calling, Sun Dancer?”

“Calling is power. Calling is...”
More of Sundancer’s foreign whistles followed, and Jora wrote them down as quickly as she could, making use of the flute to play back what she heard to be sure she’d gotten it right. With Sundancer’s acknowledging whistles, she took a few minutes to look up the words.

“Calling brings ally from another helix.”

An ally? From another helix? The words made no sense to her. What—or where—was a helix? She looked again at the radicals, the notes she heard, and tried to find another way the notes could be grouped to form different words. The alternative made less sense.

“Bring ally from what?”

“From other helix.”

Jora took a moment to look up her next word, then played,
“I not understand.”

Sundancer twittered as if she were chuckling. She responded with another new word that Jora needed to look up.
“I not surprised.”

“What is helix?”
she asked.

What Sundancer said next took some time to translate.
“Realm of existence has twin helixes connected by gates. We live in one helix, ally lives in other.”

“What is ally?”
she asked.

The response used more words she didn’t know, but after a few minutes, she translated it as
“Ally lives in helix. You see ally in spirit flow?”

Could Sundancer have meant the menacing forms whose shadows had always terrified her? She hoped not. There was nothing about those forms that made her want to engage them any further than she had to when she opened the Mindstream.

“I not know,”
she replied.

“When you use spirit flow, you see ally.”

A cold dread crept up Jora’s spine, along with the disturbing feeling of being watched. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I see...”
She looked up the words she needed.
“...something I fear.”

With the help of her journal, she deciphered Sundancer’s next phrase.
“Not need fear ally when you do calling. Calling ally controls ally. You do calling, you see.”

“I see now why you’re so reluctant to leave,” said a man’s voice.

Jora startled and turned about, finding Elder Gastone squatting on the shoal behind her. “Elder. I didn’t hear you approach.”

He pushed his hood down to reveal his bald head. “I like to watch the sun rise over the sea in the morning, but my duties occasionally take me too far inland. It’s a rare journey that takes me to the shore. Your flute called to me. It wasn’t until I neared that I realized you weren’t simply playing an odd melody. Who is your friend?”

Sundancer lay on her side in the water, watching the exchange with one eye.
“You not tell man about calling.”

“I call her Sundancer because she likes to dance in the glow of the sunrise. She seems to enjoy my playing and often whistles back to me.” Jora didn’t want to reveal the depth of her relationship or exchanges to the Truth Sayer.

“You’ll find, Novice Jora, that the truth is plainer than you might think. Your writings, the back-and-forth exchanges, the late nights spent reading by lamplight—these things would suggest there is more to your friendship with the dolphin than you’re saying.”

She swallowed, ashamed her omission was so easily discovered. He was a Truth Sayer. Of course he’d have observed her activities before coming here. “I’ve learned a little bit of the dolphin language. She tells me about her fishing adventures—”

“Novice,” Gastone said in an admonishing tone, “don’t insult me by lying to my face. Do you not think I can read? Your own hand betrays you.”

“Sorry,” she said, ducking her head. “So sorry. Our private conversations mean a lot to me. I hesitate to share them with anyone, especially someone who seeks to remove me from my home and end my ability to converse with my dear friend.”

For a long moment, he regarded her with compassion. “It’s quite remarkable, isn’t it?” he asked finally, looking out to sea. “That a creature without thumbs could be capable of deep thought. I’m certain we can convince your elder to let you continue exploring this knowledge in Jolver with the understanding, of course, that you share what you learn with the rest of the Order.”

“Why do I need an elder’s permission?”

He frowned, his bushy white brows low. “The structure within the Order requires you to seek permission to pursue knowledge that falls outside the scope of your assigned duties.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then we all lose, my dear.” His joints popped loudly as he rose. “Say something to Sundancer. Let me hear you exchange words in this language of music. Azarian, it’s called?”

She nodded and turned back to Sundancer, raising the flute to her lips.
“Man is not Autumn Rain friend.”

“I know. You not tell other humans about calling.”
She whistled a few more notes, and Jora looked them up without writing anything down. Elder Gastone might be able to read her writing, but he couldn’t hear her thoughts.
“You promise
,
”
Sundancer had said.

“I not tell,”
Jora assured her.
“I promise.”
Why the dolphin didn’t want her to share the knowledge with others, she didn’t know, but she would respect the request.

“Push man in water,”
Sundancer said.
“I drown man.”

Jora’s eyes widened in surprise.
“No, Sun Dancer, you not drown man.”
She wasn’t sure if Sundancer was serious. The dolphin did have a sense of humor, but the suggestion that she would kill him was more appalling than humorous.

Sundancer twittered.
“I go now hunt. I see you in big city?”

Jora wasn’t sure how to answer the question.
“Yes, I come when I come.”

“Autumn Rain is Sun Dancer friend. Goodbye, Autumn Rain.”

Tears fell from Jora’s eyes.
“Goodbye, Sun Dancer.”

A great many people gathered around her table at breakfast to wish her well and express regret at her leaving. Her departure was such a surprise to everyone that few had time to come up with a customary parting gift. Her sister, Cacie, offered a wide-brimmed canvas hat for her journey; Nuri, a leather duffel bag she’d been planning to sell to the traveling merchant; and the cordwainer gave a pair of boots made of the very pieces Jora had cut for her the week before. The five councilwomen gave her ten shells as a parting gift, having agreed amongst themselves they didn’t want her to leave Kaild with no money at all. She folded the bills and tucked them into the bottom of her duffel bag.

Many of them followed Jora and her visitors to the beach, where she said tearful goodbyes to her parents, her sister and nephews, her cousins and aunts and friends. Kayla smoothed Jora’s hair and brushed tears from her cheeks with her thumbs, encouraging her daughter to write when she could and do as she was told. Dyre had no parting words for her, only a lingering hug that ended only when Kayla pried his arms loose and admonished him not to crush the poor girl. She hugged her half-siblings and stepmothers, and her younger brother, Loel, whose Antenuptial she would miss. Tearna and Briana said their goodbyes with tears and hugs and angry glares at the two Truth Sayers for taking Jora from them.

Anika bid her goodbye with a tight embrace and kiss on the cheek. “Send word from time to time. Let us know you’re all right.”

Gunnar’s Third Wife, Marja, also gave her a hug, but her smile was more joyous than everyone else’s. “It’s for the best,” she said into Jora’s ear before kissing her cheek.

Jora was taken aback by the cruelty beneath the surface of those words, but she nodded anyway. Perhaps it was. Marrying Gunnar would have created problems between herself and Marja, and Jora avoided conflict like she did wasps.

Gunnar stood sullenly by, waiting until the very end to say his farewell. Jora met his gaze with a sorrowful longing, wishing things had turned out differently.

“I’m sorry my plan fell apart at the end,” he said quietly, taking one of her hands in his. “Plans do that sometimes. I’ve admired you from afar for so long, it breaks my heart to see you go.”

He had?
she wondered. She had no idea he’d noticed she was female until the last few weeks, when she’d caught him looking at her while she stole a glance at him. “I’m sorry, too. I’d have said yes, you know.”

He smiled. “It warms me to hear it. I wish you well, dear Jora. I hope to see you again someday. If you can manage a message now and then to let us know you’re well, we would all appreciate it.”

Jora nodded. She would keep her mystic eye on her hometown as she had their beloved sons and husbands.

“This is for you,” he said, handing her a water skin. “I filled it for you too, so you won’t go thirsty before the first stop.”

She put its strap around her neck and slipped one arm through. “Thank you.” It hadn’t occurred to her to request a bag of food or water. She’d assumed the Truth Sayers would arrange everything.

He bent to kiss her cheek, or so she assumed, but his lips landed squarely upon her own. By the time she recovered from the surprise enough to enjoy their softness, the kiss was over, leaving her slightly breathless and wanting more. “Take care, dear.” Gunnar stepped back, letting her hand drop, and pressed his lips together in regret.

The boat’s captain suggested she take off her shoes, which she did. She put them into her duffel and carried the bag across her shoulders to avoid the waves as she made her way to the boat. She was met by a sailor standing in the chest-deep water. He took her bag and tossed it up to two of the sailors who had already boarded. She grabbed hold of the rope ladder and began a wobbly climb up. Wet as she was, the task wasn’t easy. The man in the water put both hands squarely on her buttocks and pushed, surprising her with both the rudeness of his uninvited touch and the assistance. When she reached the top, two sailors grabbed her by the armpits and hauled her over the side as if she were another piece of cargo, banging and scraping her knees and shins.

The elder and adept joined her in the boat, and once the last sailor was aboard, they pulled up the anchor and raised the sails.

People on the shore watched solemnly. Jora waved to her friends and family and blew them kisses, tears streaming down her face, and the boat headed out into the sea. She’d never considered marrying outside Kaild, and here she was being dragged off to the capital city. Soon, the people of Kaild became but a speck on the beach behind them.