Wings of Creation (28 page)

Alicia looked away and mumbled something about busywork.

To cover her rudeness, I quickly asked him, “What sort of work can we do? We would love to give back for the shelter you’re providing.”

A soft smile quirked across his face and he gave a bow in my direction. “Blessed Chelo. We are pleased to be able to house you. If you would like to assist us, we would be happy to provide you with work after tomorrow morning’s ceremony. But there is no need. You may prefer to pass the time in contemplation.”

Was he crazy? Pass time in contemplation with two toddlers? But then the glory of his offer sank in. Ever since leaving Fremont, the only work that had been mine alone was supporting Joseph, who actually needed Marcus more than me these days. And tracking the kids, of course. But I hadn’t had any role in flying ships or plotting courses. Work would be wonderful. “If you stop calling me blessed, I’d love to help you.” I glanced at the others. “I’m sure we’d all like to be useful.”

Liam nodded, and Bryan. Alicia said nothing. “Alicia?” I queried directly.

She glanced up at me and then at Mohami. “I would prefer to pass my days in contemplation, if it’s all the same to you.”

Mohami didn’t even flinch. Instead, he graciously bowed in her direction. “You may.” He turned back to me. “I’ll meet you an hour after the ceremony.”

It sounded like a dismissal, but he actually sat down at the table with us, and Samuel and Kala reappeared as if they had heard some
silent clue, bringing us each fresh tea. “Is there anything else you need?” Mohami asked.

Bryan leaned toward him. “Have you heard how any of the rest of our party is?”

The old man spoke easily and quietly. “You are my only concern.” He held a plate that had been freshened with new nuts and fruits out to the children. Jherrel didn’t hesitate, but took a great handful and plopped down in my lap to eat it. Caro ignored the treats and stood right in front of Mohami, watching his face, unblinking. She, of course, heard and saw things we did not. I cleared my throat, hoping it would dislodge her stare, but it didn’t. “Mohami? Do you know what Wind Readers are?”

His gaze stayed on Caro, soft, accepting rather than penetrating. “Like your blessed brother.”

Blessed. I was starting to hate that word. Maybe Alicia was right. Well, not exactly. But still . . . “Like Joseph. And Kayleen, Caro’s mother. Yes.”

He nodded toward Caro. “She is a Wind Reader?”

“Yes.”

“I will find you a teacher for her tomorrow.”

It unnerved me that everything we wanted showed up.

He smiled, eyes sparkling, as he took another sip of tea. It felt like Mohami and I were the only ones in the room, regardless of the fact that the others shifted and scraped chairs and Jherrel crunched noisily on his treats.

He wanted me to ask him something. “What did I see this morning?”

“What did you feel?” he countered.

I closed my eyes. I had cried. Caro and I had cried. Liam had been there, had watched over us, kept Jherrel quiet and focused. Alicia had been angry. Bryan had stood stoic, impossible to read and last in our family line, while I was first. So I hadn’t really seen his face. But why did I cry? Without opening my eyes, I whispered the first word that came to me, “Acceptance.”

Mohami’s voice. “Of course. And?”

Nothing else wanted to be said. “Acceptance. That’s it. That’s the heart of it.” I opened my eyes, searching his face. He had dark blue
eyes that seemed to reflect us all in them, his pupils large and his eyes sunken from age. Wrinkles swept from his eyes to his temples, like the rays of a small sun. His head was bald. He wore a yellow-gold robe of thin material.

When he spoke, he sounded proud. “Yes. Acceptance. Almost everyone tries to add, but that is the goal of morning ceremony. To start the day here in center of Lopali as one being. All accepts all, even though we may disagree later in the day. This group is getting it now, they have all been here for some time.”

“It made me happy.”

He nodded. “I will send for a Wind Reader for Caro.” Although there were no windows in the room, he said, “It is nearly dark. Time for you and the children to rest. I will have tasks for you in the morning.”

I took his hand. “Please give me tasks that have meaning.”

Mohami smiled and stood up. “All tasks have meaning.” Kala and Samuel stood as he left, and then, in silence, they led us back to our room.

As soon as we closed the door behind us, Alicia blurted out. “That was really creepy. He’s really creepy. This whole place is creepy.” She folded herself down on the floor, leaned against the wall, and closed her eyes.

I stared down at her, exasperated. “These people are keeping us safe.”

She opened one violet eye. “I don’t want to be safe.”

“No kidding.”

Liam handed me Jherrel, and we became lost in the task of getting the children ready for bed. I took comfort, as always, in the routines of washing their faces and dressing them. If only Kayleen and Joseph were here, I might feel perfect. I took some extra time sitting by Caro’s bed. She seemed so distant and lost, she reminded me of her mother.

Alicia and Bryan talked quietly in a corner, and occasionally one of them laughed. They climbed into their beds readily enough as the last of the light faded us all to dark silhouettes in a dark room, and the starlight began to rise outside. I fell asleep wondering if Joseph sat someplace in light and laughter, or if Marcus drove him endlessly.
I suspected he was exhausted and still working. At least he had a calling.

Maybe I was beginning to find one.

Caro woke us all over again. I half-expected to see Bryan and Alicia gone, but they were sound asleep, and smiled dutifully at Caro when she woke them. The morning ceremony seemed less alien, but somehow more beautiful, like a stream that you come to every spring to admire the first flowering of the redberry bushes. Tears streaked my face as the sun touched the fliers’ wings for the first time.

The crowd had grown, and the unity of heart become bigger, too, rolling over the hills and out to cover the planet. I could feel Joseph and Kayleen and Jenna and Paloma and Ming and Marcus and Dianne and Seeyan all together, as if somehow they knew the secret depth of family I felt in that moment.

Like yesterday, breakfast was a cold buffet taken on a hill. The full warmth of the midmorning sun baked us as we ate. The softest breeze blew the scent of fresh grass across my nose, tickling so I sneezed from time to time.

Yesterday, Mohami had talked, but today it was a woman I had never seen before. Samuel and Kala listened to her as raptly as they had to Mohami. “Who is she?” I asked.

Kala smiled. “The Voice of the Fliers of Lopali.”

Odd titles. Like calling Liam
The Understudy to the Leader of the Band
or something. Strange that wingless ones had titles that implied so much power. “The Voice?”

Kala put her fingers to her lips and, in fact, the entire hillside fell quiet, and faces all looked down at the Voice, expectant. Silence hadn’t fallen so deeply yesterday. Even Caro and Jherrel stopped and stared, waiting. A single high note rose, and rose, and rose, so clear I shivered. The woman began to sing, a simple series of notes that rose from the ground below her and through her, as if Lopali itself sang. The other Keepers near her turned toward us and added a complementary melody. A few of the people close to us hummed. There were no clear words, but the song copied the rise and dip of winged fliers, and even seemed to change in pitch and cadence as real fliers went by overhead in apparently random groups that paid us no immediate attention.

Caro and Jherrel raced up and down the hill, gathering attention, but other than a few times when Caro loudly asked Jherrel to be quiet, they played silently, in rhythm with the Voice.

At the end of the meal and the song, we joined a line of people to clean our plates. I looked around for Mohami, sure this was the time he had promised to meet us. The other tourists—or seekers—seemed to be on their own, but Kala and Samuel stuck close to us. After the last of our plates had been dried and put away, they waited for us a little away from the crowd. Kala smiled at me. “Mohami asked me to see if you would like to work now, or you would like to go home for a time first.”

I didn’t hesitate. “Now.”

Kala looked across us all. “Whoever would like to work, may follow me.”

“Me!” Caro called out.

Jherrel called out his own “Me!” twice as loudly.

Liam gave them a fatherly glare, then looked to Kala. “Can we all come?”

Alicia didn’t even let her answer. “You all go. We’ll stay back.”

In yet another demonstration of infinite patience, Kala didn’t remark on Alicia’s interruption at all. She just looked at me and said, “Let’s go,” and after a moment of child-pointing and gathering, I looked back. Alicia and Bryan were walking away, the slender miscreant and the strongman. And at their side, Samuel, just like a roamer dog accompanying its owner into town, close and watchful.

I could imagine the looks Alicia was favoring poor Samuel with.

We soon lost sight of them in the crowd as they went back toward our room.

We crested a hill, crossed a valley, and walked up to another low hill lined with greenhouses. At the closest greenhouse, Mohami leaned out of a thin flexible door so translucent it looked like nothing more than a faint reflection, and waved enthusiastically. He had chosen the perfect chore for us; planting. I grinned at the clean scent of soil and seedlings.

He handed Caro a plant the size of her pinky, with yellow flowers shaped like stars. She took the plant ever so seriously, holding it between
her chubby palms and keeping her gaze fixed tight on Mohami. He pointed to a rather large pot, and grinned at Jherrel. “Will you dig a hole?”

Jherrel nodded, and he and Caro planted the tiny life carefully, as if it were spun glass. “Now offer it your best wishes,” Mohami whispered, nearly reverent.

Caro muttered, “Grow well and be happy.”

Jherrel followed her, “And live a long time.”

Mohami smiled as if he were trying to break his face in two parts, and then got me and Liam started on a nearly identical task. The old man stayed for a half hour, primarily overseeing the children, but occasionally admonishing us, “Speak to the plants. They need to know you, that you see them.” He brought us each cups of cold water poured from a spigot outside the greenhouse. I laughed to see the kids take the cups in their dirty hands and drink greedily, then hand them back carefully and ever so seriously. Mohami leaned down after he had the two muddy cups safely in hand and looked equally seriously at the children. “It’s good to laugh, even when you work.”

The kids broke out into high giggles.

“How long would you like before I return?” he asked me.

I tilted my chin toward Caro and Jherrel. “They’re probably good for another hour.”

He raised one eyebrow. “All right. By then the Wind Reader should be along for Caro.”

The relentless pleasure of planting reminded me of home-building on Islandia. Maybe I wasn’t trying to stop a war right then, but someone has to plant if there are going to be gardens. It clearly wasn’t my destiny, but I could live here and follow Mohami and keep the gardens and admire the fliers for a long time. It felt sweet to have time with just the kids and Liam, to laugh and talk together and not feel like anybody watched us, or could hear us, or wanted anything at all.

Kala and Mohami returned. Just as we were closing up the greenhouse, a woman jogged up and stopped in front of Mohami, panting audibly. “I . . . I guess I made it.”

Mohami grinned and turned to me. “This is Jill. She’s come to help Caro.”

Jill, still panting, waved at us shyly. “Mohami . . . said . . . you . . . need a . . . Reader.”

Liam smiled. “Yes.” He introduced everyone around, and Jill nodded and repeated each name. She was slender and blond, with a slightly flat face and warm blue eyes almost the same color as Mohami’s. Liam had saved Caro for last, and Jill knelt down to greet her, silently, and I grinned and pulled Liam close, pleased it was so easy to tell they were talking to each other like Joseph and Kayleen and Marcus did. We were left out, but Caro looked almost immediately more relaxed.

We walked back as a group, Jill and Caro talking, sometimes out loud, and other times between themselves. As we neared the hill our room nestled under, Jill asked, “Can I take her through the gardens?”

I glanced at Liam. We had agreed to always have two adults with the children, particularly Caro with her ebullience and unpredictability. But Liam and Jill or me and Jill would be two. “I’ll go,” he whispered to me. Louder, he spoke to Jill and Caro. “Can Jherrel and I go, too?”

Caro looked mildly disapproving at the idea of putting up with her slightly younger brother, but she knew better than to say no. Mohami turned to Kala. “I have an appointment. Will you take Chelo back to her rooms?”

Great. I’d rather go to the gardens. But someone should check on Miss Grump. But then again, maybe she was deep in contemplation. “There’s no need. I can see our door from here.”

Kala might as well have been deaf. “I’ll go with you.”

I gave Liam a peck on the cheek and looked at Jherrel and Caro. “Be good for Jill.”

They both nodded. “We will.”

A few moments later, I opened the door to our room, calling out, “Alicia? Bryan?”

Nothing. Maybe they’d talked their Keeper into a walk in some dangerous place. I went in, Kala following me. I turned to face her, still pretty serene after the morning. “I’ll be all right. I’ll just take a nap or something.”

Kala’s features had frozen mid-smile. He eyes grew wider, and then she let out a piercing scream.

I turned back around.

Samuel lay facedown on the floor with his arms tied behind his back.

M
arcus, Kayleen, and I sat together in the deep dark of a small room just on the far side of the war room. The smell of damp stone and earth seemed stronger for the lack of light. A thin ribbon of dull yellow limned the bottom of the door, barely enough to give form to Marcus’s and Kayleen’s bodies. Marcus had dragged one of the big black chairs from the war room into here, and he lay back in it. I leaned in close to him and whispered, “That’s a Marcus Chair.”