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Imagine a civilization with a caste system that is shackled by an oppressive government and trapped by geological barriers, where the only means of escape is to join an underground community, to follow the cryptic guidance of an advanced race that lives on the far side of a perilous sea, which is veiled by a mantle of fog. Whispering Mist is the tale of Rayna, an ironically rebellious young woman, and Nyle, her treasonous yet honorable lover, and their quest for political and personal liberation. Supported by multiple subplots and comic relief, the central narrative is set between the intertwined worlds of Valaycia and Yugatania, which are ruled ambiguously by the alchemistic Vudaki, a godlike race of semi-benevolent beings who swim beneath and fly above the Sea of Smoke. As an epic fantasy, Whispering Mist employs a unique vocabulary to describe atypical creatures that populate an original world with two moons of different colors. If you seek an author who writes concisely with precision, Marley Kin will satisfy. If you seek an unconventional story, Whispering Mist will mystify.
CHAPTER
4
TO
CHOOSE A DESTINY
Rayna
waited for her second visitation, meandering along the lake's lapping
fringe, her mind preoccupied with the wobbly balance between history
and folklore. According to her native mythology, long ago, before the
Vudaki emerged from the depths of the sea with their canopy of gloom,
the people of Yugatania could safely visit Valaycia, and they lived
in harmony with their neighbors across the sea. With the Vudaki’s
appearance, such voyages became impossible, cleaving the two worlds,
and life became darker on her side of the vaporous, sprawling inlet.
The passage of time has blurred the vision of history, concealing
this evolution and the truth of its myth.
Many
questions swirled through Rayna’s head, and Evak’s indifference
to search with her for the answers was discouraging. Squatting, she
dipped her hand into the water. The key was out there, and she would
find it, even if it meant diving to the bottom of Phantom Lake. She
smeared the rusty-colored water on her lips, and its musky taste
infused her body with a cool sensation.
It
was a sealed mystery why the Vudaki allowed the Valaycians to cross
the sea, but after a thousand years of silence, ambassadors began to
visit Yugatania, and secrets from Valaycia were smuggled across to
guide selective candidates to freedom. Magically, the Vudaki
permitted the liberators to cross the sea safely, only stopping those
citizens of Jelico who tried to escape without the proper guidance.
As the Movement mounted for dedicated liberators, its teachings
granted more knowledge and power than the governors of Yugatanian
could ever achieve, and it became a heavy political threat. The
situation eventually led to a cold war of social pressure, as the
government desperately tried to thwart the clandestine importation of
influence from Valaycia, forbidding anyone from trying to escape,
trapping its people in cultural chains of comfort and control. Truth
or legend, the specter of the past left a legacy that was suffocating
most citizens of Yugatania, whether they were conscious of it or not.
Her
thoughts drifting to more recent events, Rayna paced the tiny beach,
trying vainly to exorcize her disappointment over Evak's choice to
join the Rebellion. How could he know which path to freedom was
better when he was so ignorant about the Liberation? Faith told her
that Evak would soon collide with the wall of disillusionment, and
that she would tumble that wall with the hammer of truth, urging her
partner on that day to walk beside her. For now, her love swaddled
him, nonetheless. But who were these strangers from across the sea?
What more could they give her that would guarantee her freedom
besides transportion on a ship?
When
she stopped pacing to consider this, an army of frogs penetrated the
surface of the pond to croak in unison like before, but this time
there was no wind, only the elusive spark of radiance. She felt a
presence and turned to encounter it. Melodius was already standing
several feet behind her, wearing a lengthy, burnt-orange cape. Her
head jerked when the frogs went mute and sank into the watery
shadows.
“These
grand entries are a little spooky.”
“It
can't be helped,” Melodius said with a laugh. “My name is
Melodius. I'm the Chancellor of Manganeer and the Minister of Arts in
Valaycia.”
As
he moved closer, her eyes adjusted to the moonlight that spied from
behind a barricade of clouds. Tall and husky with a bushy beard, he
looked more like a lumberjack than an artist.
“What
kind of arts?”
“Playful”,
was all he said. “I've come to grant your second gift.” He
revealed a green bottle. “This is a year's supply of Valaycian
water.” He handed her the stout vial. “Only found in one
location, it’s a unique compound with healing properties,
especially for your people since the ingredients don't exist here. To
extract its deeper power, you must have faith in its magic.”
His
tenor voice sounded just as magical. She stared at the rare gift.
“What should I do with it?”
“Drink
one drop every day for the next year, then we'll supply you with
another bottle.”
“If
I drink the whole bottle, can I leave right now?”
Melodius
bellowed with laughter, his merriment both enchanting and unnerving.
“Forgive
me if I sound dense, but what's the connection between my liberation
and this ritual?” Rayna asked.
“Telling
you that would spoil the purpose. But I can promise you this ritual
works wonders, especially if you do it once a day along with the
other rituals.”
She
struggled with doubt. “What if I miss a day now and then?”
“That
would just extend the amount of time it takes for you to be ready.”
Confusion
possessed her. “Ready for what?”
“Freedom,”
Melodius said with a lilt.
She
nodded. “Oh. But how will I know when I'm ready?”
“That's
our responsibility. If you have a true desire to reach Valaycia, then
you need to trust our instructions. You can reduce the training time
by using your gifts every day.”
Seized
by a streak of angst, Rayna asked, “If I do these things every day,
how much time will it take?”
“It
takes the average liberator about four years.”
“Four
years? But I thought my Aunt Loreen escaped in two and a half years?”
Melodius
shook his head. “Because of her dedication, it took her almost
three years.”
Her
eyes wandered. Three
long years.
“The
way to freedom is rarely what people expect, Rayna.”
“I
guess I had this fantasy of an exciting boat ride sometime in the
next twelve months.”
A
snicker preceded the Chancellor’s response. “Be here at dusk in
two days to receive your third gift from Chancellor Semanni.”
“Wait.
There's so much I need to know about you and your people.”
“I'm
sorry, but there's a limit to how much knowledge we can share.”
“The
biggest complaint I hear is how secretive you are, and I guess it
makes a lot of people suspicious.”
The
raspy hoot of a blackangel drew his eyes to the creature’s lofty
perch. “Does it make you
suspicious?”
Rayna
hesitated. “A little, but more than anything I think it hurts your
cause.”
“Our
purpose is to offer you a better life, Rayna, and if you accept it,
then the first thing we ask is that you trust us and follow our
guidance.”
“Which
means what, Chancellor? Following blindly?”
Melodius
stared at her before answering. “That's one interpretation. But I
would call it faith.”
“Following
blindly is what people in the Rebellion would call it.”
“It’s
always nice to have choices.” He reached out his hand. “I hope to
see you again.”
When
she shook his bulky palm, a wave of heat surge through her body with
the power of a trance, causing her eyes to close. What
a strange sensation.
Did he do that? When Melodius released her hand, she detected the
portal of light bursting through her eyelids, but when she opened her
eyes, he had vanished, along with the marvelous illumination. As
Rayna faced the lake, it ignited, surprising her again, transporting
her with a brilliance that gave the water an almost gaseous texture.
She wondered what could cause the water to emit such a radiant light,
since the Liberation folklore never mentioned this mystery. Her body
tingling, she stood transfixed, unable to choose among the beliefs
that competed for her allegiance. Baffled, she stepped closer to the
lake. Something splashed, and her eyes followed the sound. Was it her
enchanted frog?
After
recovering from his first dose of the Guardian’s elixir, Varacus
felt invincible and decided to allow his wife, Sekura, and their son,
Kian, to visit his tower chamber. Sekura was plainly troubled by the
Guardian’s incessant staring, judging from her awkward demeanor,
but the boy seemed fascinated by the animal. As usual, his wife was
dressed like she was about to attend a semi-formal gathering. He
often wished that she would wear a pair of slacks or a simple skirt
at least once in a while.
“What
occupies your time up here, Adison?”
“The
sciences. How to conquer those vermin below.”
“What
does . . .” She nodded towards the Guardian without looking at her.
“She
do up here with you?”
“Nothing.
She’s usually a quiet creature, unless someone poses a threat. Her
power lies in her poise and confidence.”
Unless
she was sleeping, Sekura almost always had her long blond hair pulled
back and pinned up with jewel-studded hairpins, a habit he found a
bit annoying. She examined the room. “Does she eat much?”
He
perused his wife’s carriage and expression. “Very little.” The
Lukanda seemed to frighten her. “You never maintain eye-contact
with the Guardian. Why is that?”
Hesitating,
Sekura said, “She’s a disconcerting creature.”
“So
is the crimson cat and the mountain milander, but you feel at ease
around them.”
“This
creature is too much like us.” Sekura looked away and frowned. “And
she has an unpredictable nature that disturbs me.”
“You
like the Guardian, don’t you, Kian?” It always bothered Varacus
that Kian looked so much like Sekura, yet it pleased him when the boy
smiled at his powerful mascot.
“Yes,
Father. Her eyes are pretty like a rainbow.”
“You
see, he’s not the least bit frightened.”
Her
voice had a tone of irritation. “He’s mesmerized by the beast
like most other people.”
The
Guardian shifted her stance and fixed her gaze on Sekura, but Sekura
never noticed since her eyes were riveted on Adison.
He
gave his wife a hard look. “You make that sound like a weakness.”
“Isn’t
it?” Sekura asked, turning away.
Still
squatting, the Guardian took a graceful step in Sekura’s direction,
which brought the creature closer to Kian.
The
boy reached out to touch the Guardian’s fur, and this caught his
mother’s attention. Sekura rushed over, grabbed her son’s hand
and jerked the boy away. Her jarring movement took Kian by surprise,
causing him to clutch at the Guardian’s arm. The Lukanda reacted by
standing on her hind legs and growling, and the boy instinctively let
go.
Sekura
screamed, pulling Kian to her bosom.
The
Guardian growled again and took an aggressive step towards Sekura.
Varacus
moved between the beast and his wife. “Guardian, no!”
“Adison,
doesn’t she understand that we’re your family?”
“Calm
down, Sekura.”
“I’m
scared, Mother!”
“Be
quiet, Kian. There’s nothing to be afraid of. The Guardian won’t
hurt you if you’re quiet.” He spoke firmly to the creature. “Sit
down.”
The
Guardian squatted where it was standing and continued to stare
intensely at Sekura.
“She
reacts to fear as a threat like most other animals. You work with
wild animals—You know that. Fear is just as dangerous to her as
anger, especially when I’m near the source of it.”
Her
eyes dilating wildly, the Guardian grunted.
Sekura’s
voice trembled. “Can we leave now? Kian is still shaking.”
Adison
escorted them to the door. “I’ll be down shortly.” They left
the room.
Relieved
to be alone again, he was determined not to let Sekura’s
foolishness dampen his diffused triumph. Nevertheless, the Gurdian
did seem to lack the discernment necessary to differentiate between
innocent fear and the fear that often led to aggression. He wondered
if giving her name would somehow make a difference.
The
twilight sky was clear two nights later when Rayna returned for her
next rendezvous. Anxious, she came early to see if her frog might
perform another feat of magic, but the creatures of the pond were
silent, and the water's glassy surface was sealed. She sat against
the burly cranny tree, under a black cobweb of twisted branches,
ignoring her nagging mind, her eyes adrift in the sky’s melting
colors. She pretended to be a Vudaki ‘rider, soaring above the
clouds to gaze upon her homeland. Snared on every side by perilous
borders, Yugatania ran about 2,500 miles from east to west and
approximately 3,000 miles from north to south. To the north lay the
Frozen Peaks, a dizzy, infinite range of impenetrable mountains
extending all the way to Valaycia. The western border formed a
searing abyss her people called the Burning Sands, which wrapped
around the southwestern corner to meet the tortured beach of the
Typhonic Ocean that battered the southern coast with everlasting
fury. The eastern rim waxed and waned with the tide of the Sea of
Smoke, a pool of purple mystery, which served as the home for the
Vudaki, a race of aerial, amphibious beings beyond comprehension. Sea
and ocean mirged as one at the southeast peninsula where the former
pacified its salty sibling. Where the Frozen Peaks met the Sea of
Smoke, the mountains sculpted a sheer cliff that climbed at least a
thousand meters, spanning the sea's width from one shore to the
other. Trying to reach Valaycia by that treacherous route always
failed or ended tragically, and attempting to cross the sea’s seven
foggy miles of menacing water was simply impossible without guidance
from the Valaycian guides.
The
blue moon had fled south to avoid the path of its yellow sister.
Their family reunion was a distant celebration, but Rayna could still
dream of the glorious lunar fusion that would mark a night when
anything seemed possible, even genuine freedom, not just the false
freedom of a comfortable life in Jelico.
Nevertheless,
she battled with frustration and helplessness, reluctantly conceding
the requirement for a long period of preparation as a liberator, but
questioning the need for so much secrecy and vague information. A
rapid decision pushed the clutter aside: she would try again to get
some straight answers
from Chancellor Semanni. If that failed, there was always Uncle
Keegan, because Aunt Loreen obviously knew more than she shared.
Would Uncle be more open? As her question dangled in the cool night
air, waiting for an answer, Rayna stood near the water's edge and
pulled a sheer white scarf over her face to shield her eyes from the
flash of light. She wanted to witness the Chancellor's arrival, to
pinpoint the source of power, if she could; then, at least she would
know one of their
secrets.
To
Rayna’s surprise, the wind was so strong on this occasion, she
stumbled backwards, tripped on a root, and fell into the pond
backwards. Drenched, from top to bottom, she sat up and wiped the
water from her face. Chancellor Semanni stood on the shore with a
smirk on her face and a hand stretched out.
“Greetings,
Rayna. Can I offer you a hand?”
“I
never see you people coming but you're all very punctual.”
Despite
her long body and wide shoulders, the Chancellor’s laughter was
feeble.
As
she joined the outlander's amusement, a brazen frog hopped onto
Rayna’s chest, croaked her name, then leaped into the water,
causing her to flinch. “That was my frog—It said my name again.”
She took the Chancellor’s extended hand and heaved her soaked body.
“I'm
Semanni, the Chancellor of Kumeron and the Minister of Sciences. I've
come to grant your third gift and final lesson.”
“Unless
you have some dry clothing, I'll settle for the present.”
Semanni
smiled and said, “I’m sorry to say I only have the gift.”
Rayna
wrung water from her dress, which now hung below her knees.
“Sometimes I swim here naked.”
Semanni
chuckled, reached into the pocket of her deep yellow, pleated gown,
and handed Rayna a metal pedestal with a stone sphere resting on the
top of it. “We call this sweetrock. It's too dark to see it
clearly, but the round stone is purple, and it produces a purple
flame when you light it.”
“A
stone that burns like wood?”
“You'll
soon discover it doesn't produce any noticeable smoke, and it never
gets any smaller, no matter how often you burn it.”
Rayna
rubbed the round stone. “How's that possible?”
With
a weak smile, Semanni said, “One of those mysteries of life.”
“One
of those riddles of your
world, you mean.”
“It
also emits a sweet scent that you may find a little stimulating, but
it's not addictive.”
As
Rayna lifted her gift, she asked, “What exactly am I supposed to do
with it?”
“Light
the stone every night, then watch it burn for a few minutes as you
appreciate the fragrance. And don't underestimate its power. The
scent will be a constant reminder of your future life in Valaycia.
Using your three gifts on a regular basis will give you a wondrous
power that grows stronger. If you miss a day, don't feel guilty, just
do the best you can. And whether you move fast or slow, you'll still
reach your final destination.”
She
dropped her head. “It would be easier to follow your guidance if I
knew a little more.”
“Some
decisions are more effective if they’re based on trust.”
Although
she understood the Chancellor's point, Rayna was still disenchanted.
She trusted the Liberation, yet she felt more challenged than ever
before. Maybe that was a good thing. Either way, she had to make a
commitment to be successful in her quest for freedom.
Semanni
touched Rayna’s shoulder. “I understand how frustrating it can be
not to know more about your future and how we can guide you, but the
puzzle has a worthy design. Every destiny starts with a vision, and
that vision has an impact on everyone one around you.”
Rayna
held her breath. If they could hold back some of the truth, then it
was fair for her to do the same. “I already made my choice. One
day, with your help, I'll leave this place forever.”
Semanni
pulled a small bottle out of her other pocket. “In Valaycia, we
have a beetle called the happy widow who lives in the forsest that
surrounds the ponds where the frogs migrate when they leave here each
year. When the female beetle lays her eggs, her mate dies shortly
thereafter, and the widow happily feeds herself to the frogs as a
gift for not eating her before she gives birth to a new generation.”
“So
she’s a happy widow. I really like that, and I always loved
insects. My mother has a vivarium with a lot of beautiful insects.”
She
handed Rayna the bottle, which had tiny holes in the lid to allow the
beetle to breathe. “Simply take off the lid and set the widow free.
She’ll know what to do.”
Rayna
stared at Semanni motionless. Uncle
has a lot of explaining to do.
Kneeling by the edge of the pond, she followed the instructions, and
watched with reverence as the widow crawled out of the bottle and
fell into the water. Suddenly, the head of frog broke the water’s
surface, croaked Rayna’s name clearly, and then swallowed the
beetle. A shiver coursed up her spine, as the frog vanished just as
quickly as it appeard.
“Putting
the frog and the happy widow in the lake are rituals that protect
your gifts and create a stronger bond between you, your frog, and the
Valaycian people. A Liberation guide will notify you soon. For your
protection, he should be the only person you talk to about your
gifts. You won't meet with me again or Chancellor Prime Danar until
you're ready to enter Valaycia.”
“Please
don’t go yet. How will I know when I’m ready?”
A
mischievous smile snatched her face. “Your frog will know. Your
readiness depends on how much you desire freedom. You make progress
at your own pace, so have faith.”
A
pang of sadness crawled into Rayna’s voice. “Please tell my Aunt
Loreen and Valeena I love them.”
“I
promise I will. Farewell for now.”
The
pond fired up again, blinding Rayna. When she opened her eyes, the
Chancellor was gone. A tear threatened to squeeze its way to the
surface, but she denied it access. Every liberator had to face the
same obstacles, and if they could endure them, then so could she.
After all, no one said she had to like the conditions; she only had
to agree to them. The thing that mattered most was arriving at the
final destination, but exactly how long that would take was
impossible to know, despite their guidance. She could get arrested
for breaking a law or marry Evak or die in some accicent. Along with
Valaycia and the Vudaki, life itself was a mystery, which made it
unpredictable. A part of her wished that she were a child again, when
life was simpler.
The
next day ushered in the autumn season, and Rayna woke up early, after
a relentless night of grappling with her pillow, eager to watch the
Harvest Parade that was about to begin on the busy thoroughfare
below. As she sat on the second-floor terrace of her uncle’s
antique shop, she read the daily newsprint, which declared that the
tenth blistering sandstorm that year had hammered the western edge of
Kryton with punishing results the night before, leaving four people
dead.
She
stared at the picture of the dreadful wasteland that magnified the
histrionic caption,
an image that would have sadden her, had she not been so confused.
Charcoal grey, the desert sand was akin to the sandy beaches of the
nearby ocean, which led scientists to believe it was a lost portion
of the ocean's floor. Unlike the ocean, the desert allowed no space
for life to take root: it was pure like the fiery star that burned
above it. Running north along the western border of Kryton, the
desert gradually mutated from gray to brown, finally colliding with
the Frozen Peaks. Like a legion of sculptors waging an endless war,
the sandstorms carved a wavy surface along a seamless perpendicular
cliff, which migrated west, vanishing into the gritty unknown,
climbing to altitudes that spawned the deadly spires the mountain
range was known for. Over the centuries, untold generations of
explorers had traveled west along the base of the cliff; many
confronted death only to return disappointed; many more were devoured
by the sandy void. Rayna wondered if any of the lost voyagers had
ever found the Distant Land that filled the dreams of so many of her
people.
Disgusted,
Rayna dropped the newsprint. Her triad of visitations left her with a
biting emptiness that breakfast failed to fill. If she joined the
Rebellion, at least she could fight for the same cause as Evak. Rayna
wanted the best life possible, refusing to settle for less, but
attaining it through a four-year commitment to the Liberation was too
long of a wait. If
anybody knew a shortcut it was Uncle.
With
Sheera in tow, wearing a blue cotton dress with yellow stripes and
her second pair of new shoes in as many months, Celandra join Rayna
on the external balcony of Uncle Keegan’s shop. Supervised by
Uncle, Basha and his best friend mingled with the bustling crowd on
the street below, anticipating the imminent spectacle, while
expressive merchants peddled food and souvenirs.
It
was never too late to convince Mother to join the Liberation;
sympathetic at heart, all she needed was a
good push. Rayna
switched to a cheery persona, as she smiled at her baby sister. “Are
you excited, Sheera?”
Grinning,
Sheera ran to press her little face against the bars of the balcony’s
gylion railing to get a better look at the festivities on the street
beneath her. With a serious expression, Celandra asked, “Have you
made a decision yet?”
Rayna
knew her response might frighten her mother. “I’m feeling
indecisive, but if I take that step I want my family and friends to
join me sooner than later. I know that’s not realistic for you and
father, but . . .”
“It’s
not.” Celandra stroked Sheera’s wavy hair. “And we're happy
living here.”
“You
and Father don't look real happy to me.”
“I
know we don't always show it.” She looked away. “But your father
loves his work, and Sovereign Varacus has a vision for the future
that might improve life for everyone, not just the people who live
here in Jelico.”
“Mother,
do you really believe that?”
She
glanced at Rayna and then nodded slowly. “Yes. But if things get
worse, your father and I can always join the Liberation after your
brother and sister are grown.”
Discouraged
by her mother’s lack of support, Rayna changed the subject to the
very thing the Valaycian leaders asked her to avoid. Her mother would
never betray her, and she was more likely to talk about this taboo
than her uncle since he was a liberator. Sounds of excitement caught
Rayna’s ear. The parade was starting. A troupe of sprightly
fiddlers and dancers led the procession, followed by an army of
laughing jugglers, who wore yellow feathers from head to toe. Amused
by the panoply, Rayna asked, “How much do you know about the three
gifts?”
The
question seemed to cause her mother discomfort. “Not much, but some
people believe the frogs are the key.” Squealing and giggling,
Sheera clapped her tiny hands with exuberance.
“How
much do you think the government knows?” Rayna asked.
Her
mother’s tone sounded impatient. “I'm sure they know more than
most, Rayna.”
“I
don't think they know as much as Aunt Loreen did.”
Her
mother’s expression became sullen. “Maybe not. Your Uncle Keegan
says the riddle of the three gifts is never solved until someone’s
been using them for a long while.”
Several
wagons full of fruit and vegetables followed the jugglers. Rayna
stood, her mind vaulting back and forth. “If the Sovereign knows so
much, why doesn't he stop the visitations?”
“It
seems to me he doesn’t need to, like all the sovereigns before him.
As you know, most people believe that those who try to escape get
killed by the Vudaki or turn back before that happens. That’s what
I believe.”
Rayna
spoke with angry resignation. “Maybe it’s just a lie to keep us
under control.”
Her
mother sighed. “Many people we know might have escaped safely, but
we’ll never know for sure.”
“Maybe
the government put Aunt Loreen and Valeena in prison like the retired
citizens.”
“They
don't go to prison, Rayna, they retire to the Institute to be cared
for when they're too old to care for themselves and they're a burden
on their families.” As a generous postscript to the recent
Bloodberry Jubilee, a long wagon filled with baskets of bloodberries
lumbered by, while several attendants passed out free cups of berries
to the emulous bystanders.
“The
Liberation says they're forced to do work for the Republic, and if
they refuse, then their privileges are taken away, and sometines
they're punished and beaten, just like criminals in prison.”
Celandra
raised her voice a little and spoke more forcefully. “I've heard
those stories, and I don’t believe them. Your grandfather's there.
Do you want to believe he's being mistreated?”
“I
want the truth, Mother. Why won't they let us visit him anymore?”
“A
friend of your father who works there told him that your
grandfather’s gotten worse these last few months.” An apologetic
expression crossed her mother’s face. “And it's easier to accept
the inevitable if all ties are broken.”
Rayna
shook her head with force. “That's what they tell us, but they're
hiding something.”
Although
her mother often became impatient, it was rare for her to get angry.
“I won't stand for any more fanatical talk—I want peace for
once!”
Rayna
was briefly distracted by a team of acrobats who thrilled the
audience with amazing
feats. Unfortunately,
a young performer was injured doing a risky maneuver. She crossed her
arms with a look of contempt. “Then maybe I should move out.”
“Maybe
you should.” A look of anguish twisted her mother’s face. “I’m
worried that you're turning out to be more rebellious than Keegan.”
Frustrated
by her mother’s attitude, she blurted, “I'll tell him that when I
see him.” Glancing Celandra, she almost regretted her words.
A
topless, horse-drawn carriage approached the shop with Sovereign
Varacus and his fellow governors, prompting Rayna to lean on the
metal barrier to get a closer look. Several armed guards on horseback
surrounded Varacus and his precious
Guardian. The
governors waved, and most of the onlookers clapped or cheered. Then,
with perfect timing, two men on the catwalk of the venerable
Journey’s Inn, across the street, rolled out a huge sheet of white
cloth that hung from the walkway’s railing, exposing a sign that
read: STOP OPPRESSION. At the same time, an identical sign appeared
above the bookstore on the opposite side of the road. A few of the
mounted soldiers veered down intersecting byways, scattering the
spooked spectators. The two men dashed along the catwalk down a
narrow alley, trying to escape. Rebels.
As the Sovereign’s carriage turned off the thoroughfare, apparently
as a precaution, the Lukanda howled, frightening many of the
children, including Sheera, who ran to her mother for protection.
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