Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One (3 page)

At last Jensa and Reiv arrived at the hut of
the Spirit Keeper, a dwelling much like any other except that it
was surrounded by a flowering garden of medicinal herbs. Nannaven,
the Spirit Keeper’s given name, was a wise old healer who had taken
in Reiv, Dayn, and Alicine when they were banished from Tearia for
alleged thievery. But Reiv had experienced difficulties adjusting
to Pobu, rejected not only by the residents who resented him, but
also by Alicine who had spurned his advances. The shame and
humiliation he felt after the incident with Alicine had been the
catalyst he needed to leave Pobu. But neither she nor Dayn had
taken his abandonment of them lightly. Reiv could not really blame
them. Dayn and Alicine were, after all, from a place far away, a
place that until recently Reiv had not even known existed. As fate
would have it, Dayn had turned out to be Reiv’s cousin as well as
his friend. Reiv could only hope that Dayn still considered him as
such, and that Alicine had forgiven him for the eagerness of his
hands upon her.

When they reached Nannaven’s door, Jensa
departed, claiming the need to help her brothers finish setting up
the booth. The strange expression on her face left Reiv curious as
to whether there was another reason as well. He felt sure Dayn
would want to see Jensa; her beauty could be mesmerizing and she
had openly befriended him. But her departure with Reiv three weeks
earlier had clearly stung him. Since that day, Reiv had begun to
notice that Jensa always asked about Dayn whenever Torin returned
from Pobu with news. This day, however, she made no mention of
Dayn, and disappeared into the streets without another word.

Standing before Nannaven’s door, Reiv felt a
rush of nausea. He knew it wasn’t from the nearly-raw fish he had
eaten. He hadn’t seen Dayn and Alicine in almost a month, and the
last time they had spoken there was much anger between them. More
than anything, Reiv wanted to make things right, to make things the
way they had been before.

He pulled in a steadying breath and rapped on
the door. It swung open immediately and there stood Dayn, his blue
eyes alight with excitement. A grin stretched across Dayn’s face as
he looked Reiv up and down. He burst into laughter and threw his
arms around Reiv, grabbing him in a fierce hug. At first Reiv felt
uncomfortable at the closeness of his cousin, but he soon found
himself laughing and hugging Dayn back with equal enthusiasm.

Dayn ushered him inside and poured them each
a mug of cool tea, then motioned for Reiv to join him at the table.
They sat across from each other and leaned across the tabletop,
anxious to spill all the news.

“I can’t get over the sight of you,” Dayn
said. “You’ve changed so much.”

Reiv looked down at himself and smiled. “I
think being a Shell Seeker suits me. You are looking well also.
Much more Jecta-like, I might add.”

It was true. Dayn had given up his Kiradyn
tunic and trousers for a kilt-like wrap around his hips. His chest
was bare and tan, and his arms much more muscular. His pale hair
was shoulder-length now, and was pulled back and bound at his neck.
Somehow it made him look older than his sixteen years.

“I realized my desire for conformity is
stronger than my need for modesty,” Dayn said. “But I’m not so sure
about piercing holes in my body like the others here do.” He
glanced at Reiv’s hands. “You’re not wearing your gloves.”

Reiv looked at the mottled hands wrapped
around his own mug and realized he was not. He had not worn the
gloves in weeks now and had grown so accustomed to it, he had quite
forgotten Dayn had never seen the scars before. It seemed years
since he had refused to show them to anyone.

“I cannot hunt for shells with gloves on, and
no one there seems to care what my hands look like anyway. Even I
do not care so much anymore. But you know, they seem to have gotten
better since I have been with the Shell Seekers. It must be the
seawater. They say it has healing properties.”

Dayn grinned and tilted his head. “What’s
that on your eyes? I mean…is it permanent?”

Reiv chuckled, realizing the black pattern
that outlined them must appear strange to his cousin. “No, it is
kohl, not tattoo. It protects them from the glare.” A gleam came to
his eyes, further accentuating their violet color against the black
outline of the kohl. “The girls there really seem to like it.” He
winked, and they both laughed.

“Speaking of girls,” Reiv said, craning his
neck, “where is Alicine?”

“She’s out tending to some patients, but
hopefully she’ll be home soon. Nannaven had some mysterious errand
to run and left Alicine to finish up the rounds. She looks forward
to seeing you, cousin.”

Reiv noticed that Dayn’s eyes had shifted at
that last remark, but his heart could not help but leap. “It will
be nice to see her, too. I hope she is well.”

“Yes, she’s well.”

“And does she still wish to go back home to
Kirador?”

“Yes, but she doesn’t talk of it as much
lately. I keep hoping she’ll grow happy here, but sometimes she
just seems so sad.” Dayn shook his head slowly. “I don’t know how
to make her happy, Reiv.”

Reiv nodded, but said not a word. As he
considered what Dayn had just said, the thought occurred to him
that maybe there was something else that Alicine needed in order to
be happy. Perhaps he was the source of her sadness…because they had
parted with harsh words…because she missed him and didn’t really
think him so bad. His fingers slid to the money pouch at his side,
reminding him of the shell bracelet tucked inside. He had worked
hard to craft it, hoping Alicine would accept it as a token of his
affection, praying she would consider a future with him now that he
had made something of himself as a Shell Seeker. But his thoughts
were interrupted as the door pushed open and Alicine swept into the
room.

She stopped suddenly and stared at him, her
face awash with unreadable emotion. Her lips struggled to form a
smile, but seemed to waver as though conflicted.

Reiv smiled. “Hello, Alicine,” he said.

“Hello,” she responded, but her tone was
somewhat cooler than he had hoped. No doubt she was not as
forgiving as Dayn had implied.

“You look different,” she said.

Reiv grinned sheepishly. “Yes, I suppose I
do. You look well.”

“Thank you,” she said. She walked over and
sat across from him at the table, staring at the tabletop as though
afraid to meet his gaze. She no longer wore the form-fitting sarong
he had last seen her in, but was attired in a modest tunic dress
the color of dark umber, tied at the waist with a belt of patterned
cloth. Her black hair was pulled back and braided in one long
plait, much as she had worn it the day they first met. Her eyes
moved to his hands.

“They look better,” she said, nodding in
their direction.

Reiv held them up and rotated them back and
forth. “Yes, I was telling Dayn that I think the sea does them
good.”

“Does it do you good as well?” she asked.

“Yes,” Reiv replied, “it does.”

“So you like it there?”

“Very much.”

“You’ll not be coming back then?”

“No, Alicine, I will not be coming back, at
least not to live, but I was wondering—”

“What’s that on your eyes?”

“Oh, it is kohl. All Shell Seekers wear it.
Jensa came up with the design. The first day I refused it and—”

Alicine cut him short. “So I suppose that is
what you are now—a Shell Seeker?”

“Well, yes,” he said.

“So what will you be doing next, tattooing
your body and piercing your ears?”

“Jecta paint their faces, too,” Dayn
interjected. “Besides, Reiv says the girls like him with the kohl
and—” His face went lax as Alicine’s hostile glare shot his
way.

“Well,” Alicine said to Reiv, “as long as the
girls
there
like it.”

“Am I to take it, then, that you do not?”
Reiv asked.

Alicine turned her head aside with
indifference. “No, not really, but what does it matter what I
think?”

Reiv’s face flushed with anger mixed with
humiliation. He pushed up from the table. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is, you clearly have no need of
a life here with us. Obviously Jensa has much more to offer.”

Reiv leaned across the table, resting his
hands upon it as he eyed Alicine darkly. “You know why I left. Why
are you throwing this up in my face? You know there is no future
for me here. Do you want me to return to a place where I am neither
wanted nor appreciated?”

Angry blotches rushed to Alicine’s cheeks. “I
don’t care what you do! Stay in Meirla for all I care. Stay there
and take a Shell Seeker wife and have Shell Seeker children and
live happily ever after surrounded by their scanty clothes and
painted faces.”

“Well as long as I have your permission! You
know, maybe I will do that very thing right now. Would that make
you happy?” He stormed toward the door.

Then it was Alicine’s turn to leap from the
table. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she shouted.

“You know full well what it means!” he
shouted back.

“I only know that you walked out the door and
left me and Dayn behind and now you’re doing it again.”

Dayn rose. “Alicine, enough…”

But she persisted. “Well, Reiv, as long as
you have Jensa and the other girls, then that’s all that
matters.”

“I do not have to listen to this,” Reiv said.
He swung the door open violently, then turned his head toward Dayn.
“I will see you later, Dayn.” Then he bolted into the street.

BACK TO ToC

Chapter 4: Loyalties Lie

M
ahon walked toward
the palace, fully prepared to offer his condolences to Whyn, who
had summoned him. As Commander of the Guard, Mahon had been busy
organizing security for Market and had only just learned of the
King’s death. The announcement of Sedric’s passing had not yet been
made public. The family would grieve in private this evening,
withholding formal announcements until morning. Though Mahon was
the husband of Brina, sister of the Queen, he had no doubt that he
was the last family member to be informed of the King’s demise.
Mahon and Brina had not shared a bedchamber for sixteen years now,
and while he had the royal family’s sympathies, he knew he did not
have their respect.

As Mahon approached the palace, he could not
help but wonder why he had been ordered to keep his meeting with
Whyn a secret from Brina. He did not normally share information
with her about his duties; they barely spoke to one another as it
was. No doubt the Prince’s summons had something to do with Reiv,
Whyn’s twin who had been banished from Tearia. Reiv was a Jecta
now, impure and discarded because of the damage to his hands; but
that was not why Mahon despised him. It was Reiv who had driven the
latest nail into the coffin of Mahon’s marriage. During Reiv’s
recent banishment to Pobu, Mahon had dutifully supported it, but
Brina had fought it with all her heart and soul. She had always
loved Reiv as though he were her own son. But he was not.

Mahon played over and over in his mind the
uneasy rumors that had been circulating in the streets. The thought
of them made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Reiv had
become the topic of much misguided speculation, and it was causing
concern for both the Temple and the Throne. Mahon ground his teeth,
resentful of the fact that he had to deal not only with Brina, but
with the whispers that proclaimed Reiv to be the Unnamed One, the
hero of some outlandish prophecy.

But as much as Mahon wanted to blame his
recent problems on Reiv, he knew the boy wasn’t the only reason for
his and Brina’s estrangement. It had begun sixteen years prior, at
the death of their infant son, Keefe. Mahon closed his eyes,
fighting to suppress the memory, but it did little good. He could
not shake the image of his only child’s face, nor the mark upon the
child’s neck. The birthmark had required that Keefe be weeded out;
it was law. What else could a man do? Of course he felt guilty for
it, yet he could not understand why he alone had borne the brunt of
it for all these years. It was Brina, not he, who had killed Keefe,
strangled him with her own hands, she said. But then Mahon had met
Dayn, and it was as though every truth about Keefe he had ever
known was a lie.

A voice sounded in Mahon’s head, sending a
stab of pain to his chest. Are you Mahon? it asked.

“Silence from you!” Mahon hissed. He
quickened his pace, as if by doing so he could leave the voice on
the trail behind him. But the voice persisted.
Are you
Mahon?

“Yes,” Mahon growled. “And you are Dayn. Now
leave me in peace.”

But Mahon knew there would never be peace
until his own questions were answered. And now there were several.
Dayn was about the same age Keefe would have been; he had a similar
birthmark on his neck. That could be coincidence, of course, but
what about the uncanny resemblance between Dayn and Whyn? The boys
looked enough alike to be brothers, or cousins. Ever since Mahon’s
brief encounter with Dayn, he could not see Whyn without thinking
of Dayn, could not hear Whyn’s voice without thinking of Dayn.
Mahon knew it did no good to dwell on things he could not change,
but Dayn had asked him questions, questions that made him even more
suspicious. And “Are you Mahon?” was one of them.

He squared his shoulders and hustled up the
steps to the entrance of the palace. There he was met by two guards
who pushed open the towering doors. Mahon made his way across the
polished marble floor, the sword at his side clanking to the rhythm
of his feet as he moved through the foyer toward the receiving
room. More guards stood posted, their bodies snapping to attention
as he swept past them and through the portal to the room
beyond.