Prophecy's Promise (Prophecy of the Edges Book 1) (24 page)

After we’d eaten dinner and then tidied up, we all sat around the table. Awkward silence enveloped us. The shutters and doors had been drawn shut, buffering us against the plummeting night temperatures. But the mountain night air brought temperatures chillier than Adara, Bahlym, and I had anticipated. I pulled the scratchy woolen sweater Desha had lent me around my shoulders.

Embe had still never emerged from her loft fortress. Namje took a plate of food, loaded with extra desserts, to her sister while I sat with the adults, racking my brain for some conversation topic to breech the silence. All I could think about was my book, but conversations related to any form of work or tasks were forbidden on Family Day. I wanted to grab the book and someone who could help me learn ancient Cuneiform, but instead I sat, following the customs of the culture.

Bahlym broke the silence. “I understand that, before Krineem, your Council allowed a diplomat from the Empire to hold a non-voting seat.” Everyone blinked in surprise. The awkward feeling escalated.

Desha frowned slightly. “Yes, before Krineem. But, not since.”

“To be fair, that’s only because there have been no Empirites living amongst the Mitanni,” Yammin pointed out.

“It’s not a good idea,” Desha said.

“With all due respect, Desha, it’s not for the priests to decide,” Rcanian reminded her. “The Burden doesn’t extend to who sits on the Council.”

Before Desha could respond, we were interrupted by shrieks in stereo, from both children punctuated by loud banging against the ceiling. Namje’s voice carried throughout the home, echoing off the stone walls. “You are a coward!” she yelled. “You are an insult to the pride of the Mitanni!”

Desha excused herself from the table, ran upstairs, and returned with Namje. Tears stained the little girl’s face. It was painfully obvious that the living situation was not going to work out.

Rcanian provided the solution. “You can stay at my house,” he offered.

Even though it was Family Day, everyone decided that, for Embe’s sake, we should move that very night. Rcanian’s house was nearly identical to Desha’s and thus much easier to accommodate three additional people since he lived by himself. Bahlym took the second bedroom and Adara and I shared the loft.

Bahlym lugged our packs up the ladder to the loft. Sighing, he plopped down onto the cot. “Are you going to be able to hobble up here in your state?”

“We won’t be here that long,” I insisted.

“I hope I get onto the Council,” Bahlym said. “Do you think the Promise holds much sway here?”

“I wouldn’t know,” I fidgeted.

“You could try to talk to Rcanian,” Bahlym leaned forward. “I really need that seat. I need to do more than hang around waiting while you two study.”

I understood not wanting to feel bored. And since his boredom was directly related to him helping me escape, I agreed to speak with Rcanian. I shooed Bahlym off to bed and went down to the table, book in hand. I had barley set it down when Rcanian materialized. “You can’t do that on Family Day.”

“It’s Family Night,” I said, but closed the book. “Fine. Thanks for letting us stay here.”

Rcanian sat down, taking the bait. I hadn’t actually planned on studying. I tapped my fingers on the book’s cover. “Bahlym wants on the Council. I think you should let him.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I didn’t say it would be easy. You were right earlier. The world is changing. You can’t remain as isolated as you’ve been. Maybe welcoming Bahlym will be a good first step.”

“Vasani and the others won’t like it. Desha won’t allow it.”

“You said the Burden doesn’t extend to the Council. It’s up to you and your grandmother.”

“I’ll think on it.” He wagged a finger at me. “No studying.”

“Promise,” I said, pushing the book away. Rcanian turned to leave, but then squinted at me and took the book.

“I think I know you well enough,” he chided.

With nothing left to do, I retired to the loft and drifted off to a dreamless sleep. The next morning, despite Rcanian’s concerns, I went to Vasani’s house. Garth had always recommended keeping one’s enemies close. If Bahlym hoped to be listened to by the Council, and if I hoped to be able to wander safely around town, I needed Vasani to trust me. Or at least not hate me. Then the other Mitanni would follow her lead.

The door to her home was open. I rapped on the door frame and waited. Vasani pushed aside the purple curtain that hung in the door’s opening. “What do you want?” Her eyes narrowed.

“To talk,” I said. “It was hard yesterday, with the rocks and all that.”

“I’m sorry,” Vasani said with no hint of apology in her voice. “Now will you go away?”

“You aren’t sorry, and I’m not going away. Not until we talk,” I insisted.

Sighing, she pulled the curtain back and beckoned me to come in. “Well?” she demanded.

“I’m not your enemy. Neither are Adara and Bahlym. They gave up everything hoping for a better world, a world without The Edges.”

“And?” She crossed her arms and leaned in toward me.

“What are you afraid of?”

“Nothing.”

“I am the Promise. I know you are lying.”

“The Prophecy doesn’t mention that ability,” she retorted.

“Why are the Mitanni afraid of outsiders?”

“We are not afraid.”

“Aren’t you afraid of The Edges destroying the mountains?” I asked.

“Perhaps.”

“The Edges will come here and destroy everything and everyone. I need the Mitanni’s help and the Mitanni need mine.”

“We don’t need the Empirites.” She leaned forward, trying to intimidate me. It wasn’t very effective. “I’ll accept you if you throw them back.”

Vasani was uncomfortably close, close enough for me to smell the oats she’d had for breakfast on her breath, but I did not step backward. I tilted my chin up and stared unflinching into her green eyes. “Adara and Bahlym brought me here. I owe them a debt as does the Mitanni if you say that I can save you. Without them, there would be no hope to remove Azabin and destroy The Edges.”

“I do not need any Empirites,” Vasani growled. For a moment, I was certain that she was going to throw me out of her house, but she heaved a great sigh and stepped back. “But, I will concede that your Empirites, Adara and Bahlym, have helped the Mitanni by saving the Promise. But I do not have to like that you are here.”

“You remind me of my friend, Meena. You two would either be fast friends or try to kill each other.”

“If she was not Mitanni it would be the only reason to kill her.”

“Surely, you do not believe that. Have you ever actually killed anyone?” I asked. Her look told me everything. “I see. Trust me; it’s a debt you do not want.”

“I do apologize for yesterday. I am glad Rcanian stepped in.”

“How long ago did your relationship end?”

She jumped a little in surprise at the question. “A year ago.”

“You still trust him?” I asked.

“With my life, but not like that anymore,” she said slowly.

“Then trust his judgment. Trust Desha’s. Don’t stir up trouble. Help us. The easier it is for us, the faster I will learn to read the book, and the sooner we will leave the Mitanni.”

“If it will make you leave sooner, I will think on it,” she promised. We shook hands and I left, mildly surprised by how well the conversation had gone.

We quickly settled into
a routine. Despite Desha’s hesitation, Rcanian arranged for Bahlym to gain the Council non-voting seat. Duties associated with that took up most of Bahlym’s time. He took his obligations on the Council very seriously, learning and practicing the customs of the Mitanni and studying books on the law nearly as intensely as I studied Shezdon’s book.

Each day, Adara and I studied the language of the book, often with Yammin’s assistance. Little by little, I learned more vocabulary and the words in the book began to make sense. But, it was not happening quickly enough.

“What does
k’araina cistea’a
mean?” I asked.

Adara set down her book. “There’s no good translation for
cistea’a
, but basically, is a Fortified without an object.”

“What about
k’araina
?”

“To wrench or twist,” Yammin responded, “But that is the god tense.”

“We must ‘wrench or twist’ The Edges, one at a time, into
cistea’a
.”

“Really?” Adara perked up. “That’s great information. Where are the
cistea’a
?”

“But
k’araina
is in the god’s tense,” Yammin repeated. “There are no gods left.”

“It seems as if another part of the book explains the location of the
cistea’a
and how to use them.” I sighed. “But it doesn’t refer to the page or the section.”

“Okay. Well, how do you cleanse Azabin?” Adara asked.

“It doesn’t say.” I slammed the book shut. I hadn’t done a very good job of cleansing the very little Mist Energy that I had absorbed. How could I possibly cleanse all of Azabin? I hoped the book held the answer. “I want to be able to understand all of this now.”

“Be patient,” Yammin told me. “A sapling slowly matures to be the tallest tree.”

I don’t think Yammin could have picked a better word than “slowly.” If I’d been able to focus solely on my studies, maybe the knowledge would come faster, but the more I, as the Promise, participated in the Mitanni’s culture, the easier it would be for Bahlym to be accepted. After everything he and his sister had done for me and everything he gave up, I had to go along with it.

And so the days passed and turned into weeks. After our conversation, Vasani never directly spoke out against me again. She must have passed along my message to the other Mitanni, because I heard cited more than once, “The faster the Promise learns the book, the faster the outsiders will leave,” nearly word for word the argument I’d given Vasani. And thus the worst of the public displays of abhorrence stopped. Better yet, the Mitanni began to slowly adjust to our presence, which was significantly more comfortable than begrudged toleration. People no longer stopped to stare at us, but began to wave and smile instead. The movement to evict Adara, Bahlym, and me from the Mitanni lost momentum. However, according to Bahlym, Vasani and those closest to her still countered everything he said in the Council.

Adara’s infatuation with Rcanian grew. A few weeks into our stay with him, Adara wanted to make dinner for him, as this was a common tradition in the Mitanni for a woman to indicate that she liked a man. I’d no idea how she heard about it, but once she did, she was anxious to make a perfect meal for him. Since she’d never cooked before, she enlisted me to help.

At the meat-monger’s shop, we ran into Desha, Namje, and surprisingly, Embe. Upon seeing us, Embe immediately dropped the shopping basket she was holding. Eggs spilled and cracked, but she stood her ground even though her pale green eyes were opened in fright. I smiled at her, trying my best to look harmless.

“I thought you’d be taller,” Embe whispered, tucking a coppery-red braid behind her ear. After a few more moments, she collected the items she spilled.

Desha smiled at her daughter then turned to me. “Your danger time is close to done, is it not?”

“Danger time?” I repeated, uncertain.

Desha looked shocked. “The child is nearly a third through its gestation. Don’t you have a similar celebration?”

“When’s your party?” Namje asked.

“Why would I have a party?”

Desha said, “It’s a tradition. Twelve weeks into the pregnancy, we hold a celebration for the mother-to-be. Usually the families of the parents host the party.”

“Since Hailey has no family here, perhaps you and I could plan the party for her,” Adara suggested. Both Embe and Namje piped in, excited at the prospect.

“I wouldn’t want you to go through all that effort. It’s okay,” I insisted.

I think that it was Embe’s interest that pushed Desha toward agreeing. “It ought to be family, but I suppose we could,” Desha said, ignoring my protests. She and Adara decided to meet the following afternoon to start planning my party. Desha and the children took their leave, and Adara and I finished our shopping.

I suppose it shouldn’t have been surprising that Adara didn’t end up needing much help preparing the meal. She was unrelenting when she wanted something, and she wanted this dinner to go as flawlessly as possible. She’d been helping Rcanian cook on the nights that we did not go out to a restaurant or pub for dinner. On the nights we did go out, I’d seen her sneak back to the kitchens in the guise of helping the staff, a common custom in the Mitanni. I don’t think she would have suggested this if she wasn’t confident of success, at least in the culinary arena. I still couldn’t decide how I thought Rcanian would take it.

Adara fussed over every last detail. Ensuring that each flower blossom was stuffed with the appropriate amount of cheese; each lamb chop was cooked to perfection; and the fruits were intermixed into the salad evenly. I set the table, mimicking the formal mountain style as best as I could. Adara arranged the extra flowers on the table.

Bahlym completed his assigned task correctly; he and Rcanian arrived home on time, only a few moments after Adara had taken the lamb from the oven.

“What’s going on?” Rcanian asked as he walked into the kitchen.

Adara’s face turned as red as the flower blossoms. I’d never seen her at a loss for words before.

“Adara made you dinner. Wow, it smells great,” said Bahlym. “Hailey and I will grab food at the Goat’s Pub.” Bahlym patted Rcanian on the back, but Rcanian and Adara both stood motionless and wide eyed, looking at each other.

“Yeah, I think we’ll go now.” I grabbed my sweater and the book, retreating out the front door after Bahlym.

I had hoped for an uneventful meal. When Bahlym and I entered the room, all eyes turned to us. Vasani, Esden, and a few of the other members of the Council were at the Goat. We made our way over to their table, whispers following in our wake.

“Your sister and Rcanian are sharing a meal?” Esden asked as we sat down.

Vasani picked at her food. “Bahlym is simply throwing his sister at the suitor with the most to offer him. I’d have expected nothing less from an Empirite.”

“Adara is her own person and can do as she wishes.” Bahlym shrugged. “Besides, I am sharing a meal with the Promise. Is there something forbidden here?”

Esden shook his head. “You and the Promise do not look at each other the same way that Adara and Rcanian do.”

No one mentioned anything more on the subject. The conversation turned to matters of the Council, and I dove into my book. After dinner, we trudged the two blocks back to Rcanian’s home. I half expected Adara and Rcanian to still be locked in the same pose we’d left them in, but they were not. The dishes had been cleared from the table, and Adara and Rcanian sipped wine in between scrubbing the dishes Adara and I had used to make the dinner.

“Went well I take it?” Bahlym poured himself a glass of wine. “I think I’ll make myself scarce,” he said and walked off toward his bedroom. Following suit, I took my book to the loft. I’d been focusing on the language study itself and hadn’t tried really reading the book much recently. I was amazed by the amount that I could now understand. Another word became another phrase became another realization.

But, as much as I learned, there were too many words that I didn’t understand yet. There was more about the poles, but even more important, there were
cistea’a
at the poles. And these
cistea’a
were the key. Key to what, I still was not sure, but it was a start.  And for once, a piece of good news. The destruction of one edge would cause Azabin pain.  And this pain would take time for him to recover from.  So, fixing Gryshelm’s Edge could buy me some time to recover before moving onto the other ones.

Adara tiptoed into the room. “You still awake?” she asked.

“Had a couple breakthroughs.”

“Me, too.” She grinned as she lay down on the bed beside me.

For the next several weeks, whispers about Adara and Rcanian’s scandalous courtship filled the streets of the mountain city. They were both careful to follow the mountain’s rules of decorum. Adara continued to sleep in the loft with me, but there were a few times when I woke up in the middle of the night and she was not there. I did not ask her about it, figuring if she wanted to talk about it, she’d broach the subject.

Eventually, the book began to make more sense. There were more weak points between our worlds besides that one that I’d passed through a few weeks prior. From what I understood, some might even be weak enough for me to pull others through. But where? The translation was eluding me. I needed to find it so that I could get back to my Slice and heal the break. This was the last piece of information that I needed so that I could get back home, back to Gryshelm. I would confront Nazarie, destroy Azabin, and open a university in Dybreakea.

It might not have been my original dream, but it was a new one, and this path felt right. My daughter and I would find happiness. A name floated into my thoughts, Sara Heather. The Empire’s habit of using two names seemed very appropriate. Sara Heather. I repeated the name a few times. I would fulfill the whole mess about the Prophecy and then return to my studies, living a happy and peaceful existence, just Sara Heather and me.

I was sure of it.