reach my horse, a sudden
light shines in my face, blinding me.
I raise a
hand to my eyes and yell, “Who are you?”
As my
voice resonates in the darkness, a rapid rustle behind me tells me that
whatever was hiding in the niche below the oak roots is now gone.
* * *
I try to move toward Taeh but the
light keeps shining in my eyes, preventing me from seeing. I hear footfalls
approaching.
“Who are
you?” I shout again.
“Athel?”
The call
comes from farther away—a second man, one whose voice is surprisingly
familiar. He steps forward and pushes down the light in his companion’s
hand.
“It’s ok,”
Tahari explains. “I know him.”
My eyes
take a few moments to readjust. As I squint at the two men standing in front of
me, their grainy silhouettes gradually shift into familiar faces.
One is
Tahari, our Kiva leader. He holds a long walking stick and leans against it
while peering at me with small, inquiring eyes. Next to him is a short man
whose wiry hair spill into a shapeless, rust-colored beard. He’s the one who
was with Tahari the night Dottie and I spied the two of them digging in the
forest. And now that I see his face I recognize him as one of the rice farmers.
I’ve seen him leave at dawn with the other farmers to tend the crops upstream
of the river.
“What are
you doing out here in the middle of the night, Athel?” Tahari asks.
“I could
ask you the same question,” I reply. Snotty, I realize, but politeness is not
exactly my forte at three in the morning. I keep a hand cupped around my eyes
and ask, “Can you please turn that off? It’s burning my sensors.”
The man
holding the flashlight sends an interrogative look to our Kiva leader. At
Tahari’s nod, he turns the flashlight off.
Tahari
stares at me, his pupils dilated now that darkness has returned. He tilts his
head, his sagging cheeks tired from lack of sleep, and beats the ground with the
walking stick. “You’re looking for something, Athel?”
He puts a
strange emphasis on the way he pronounces my name— Aeethel —as though he wants to make a point that he hasn’t
forgotten me. Or what I’ve done.
“As a
matter of fact,” I say, “I am. What about you?”
The rice
farmer’s eyes widen at my tone—it’s certainly inappropriate for a
seventeen-year-old to address his Kiva leader this way. I wonder if they’ve
been looking for the niche behind me. I feel the urge to go and check it, but I
don’t want to give it away.
Taeh
whinnies. Tahari’s gaze strays over to her, then back to me. “We are looking for something,” he says at
last. “And I’m pretty sure we could use your help. Want to join us in our
quest?”
That
catches me off guard, my bravado suddenly deflated. “Help? Me? Why?”
Tahari
beats the ground with his walking stick again and, without steering his eyes
away from me, says to the rice farmer, “Show him, Aghad.”
Aghad
scratches his rusty beard, his wheezing a notch louder. “Show… the boy? Are you
sure we can trust him?”
Tahari
tilts his head, pondering. “I know this boy, Aghad. This boy right here is a
brave young man, one who isn’t afraid of breaking the rules for the greater
good. He’s made mistakes before, and he knows the value of sacrifice. An important
lesson in life.”
Aghad
reaches for the thick leather bag he’s been carrying on his back and takes out
a flat wooden box, which he sets on the grass between us. Judging by the care
with which he handles it, the contents must be very precious.
“I’ll need
the flashlight again,” he says.
“It’s ok,”
I reply, sitting on the ground. “Keep it away from my eyes and I’ll be fine.”
Tahari
sets down the walking stick and, as Aghad clicks the flashlight on, carefully
opens the box. Inside, three cylinders lie on velvet lining, all identical to
the one Akaela found. Tahari points to each one of them and says, “Wisdom,
Knowledge, and Ingenuity.”
Three of the five powers of Astraca ,
light shines in my face, blinding me.
I raise a
hand to my eyes and yell, “Who are you?”
As my
voice resonates in the darkness, a rapid rustle behind me tells me that
whatever was hiding in the niche below the oak roots is now gone.
* * *
I try to move toward Taeh but the
light keeps shining in my eyes, preventing me from seeing. I hear footfalls
approaching.
“Who are
you?” I shout again.
“Athel?”
The call
comes from farther away—a second man, one whose voice is surprisingly
familiar. He steps forward and pushes down the light in his companion’s
hand.
“It’s ok,”
Tahari explains. “I know him.”
My eyes
take a few moments to readjust. As I squint at the two men standing in front of
me, their grainy silhouettes gradually shift into familiar faces.
One is
Tahari, our Kiva leader. He holds a long walking stick and leans against it
while peering at me with small, inquiring eyes. Next to him is a short man
whose wiry hair spill into a shapeless, rust-colored beard. He’s the one who
was with Tahari the night Dottie and I spied the two of them digging in the
forest. And now that I see his face I recognize him as one of the rice farmers.
I’ve seen him leave at dawn with the other farmers to tend the crops upstream
of the river.
“What are
you doing out here in the middle of the night, Athel?” Tahari asks.
“I could
ask you the same question,” I reply. Snotty, I realize, but politeness is not
exactly my forte at three in the morning. I keep a hand cupped around my eyes
and ask, “Can you please turn that off? It’s burning my sensors.”
The man
holding the flashlight sends an interrogative look to our Kiva leader. At
Tahari’s nod, he turns the flashlight off.
Tahari
stares at me, his pupils dilated now that darkness has returned. He tilts his
head, his sagging cheeks tired from lack of sleep, and beats the ground with the
walking stick. “You’re looking for something, Athel?”
He puts a
strange emphasis on the way he pronounces my name— Aeethel —as though he wants to make a point that he hasn’t
forgotten me. Or what I’ve done.
“As a
matter of fact,” I say, “I am. What about you?”
The rice
farmer’s eyes widen at my tone—it’s certainly inappropriate for a
seventeen-year-old to address his Kiva leader this way. I wonder if they’ve
been looking for the niche behind me. I feel the urge to go and check it, but I
don’t want to give it away.
Taeh
whinnies. Tahari’s gaze strays over to her, then back to me. “We are looking for something,” he says at
last. “And I’m pretty sure we could use your help. Want to join us in our
quest?”
That
catches me off guard, my bravado suddenly deflated. “Help? Me? Why?”
Tahari
beats the ground with his walking stick again and, without steering his eyes
away from me, says to the rice farmer, “Show him, Aghad.”
Aghad
scratches his rusty beard, his wheezing a notch louder. “Show… the boy? Are you
sure we can trust him?”
Tahari
tilts his head, pondering. “I know this boy, Aghad. This boy right here is a
brave young man, one who isn’t afraid of breaking the rules for the greater
good. He’s made mistakes before, and he knows the value of sacrifice. An important
lesson in life.”
Aghad
reaches for the thick leather bag he’s been carrying on his back and takes out
a flat wooden box, which he sets on the grass between us. Judging by the care
with which he handles it, the contents must be very precious.
“I’ll need
the flashlight again,” he says.
“It’s ok,”
I reply, sitting on the ground. “Keep it away from my eyes and I’ll be fine.”
Tahari
sets down the walking stick and, as Aghad clicks the flashlight on, carefully
opens the box. Inside, three cylinders lie on velvet lining, all identical to
the one Akaela found. Tahari points to each one of them and says, “Wisdom,
Knowledge, and Ingenuity.”
Three of the five powers of Astraca ,
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