Starfist: Lazarus Rising by David Sherman & Dan Cragg Page A

to Charles's room when he saw the two holding hands. The growing intimacy between his daughter and their guest had not gone unnoticed by the patriarch, but he'd kept his peace about it. "Come outside. A stranger has arrived! Charles, come too, if you will."
    The small brown woman dressed in rags and carrying a tiny bundle slung on her back stood in the middle of a small crowd, obviously embarrassed at being the center of attention. She was also very relieved to be there, as clearly evidenced by the big smile on her face.
    "She doesn't seem to speak English," someone volunteered as Zechariah, followed closely by Comfort and Charles, came through the crowd.
    "Zechariah," he said slowly to the woman, tapping his chest. "What is your name?" He pointed at her.
    She knew what that meant. "Emwanna," the woman answered. She unslung the bundle from her back and held back the rag that had been covering her child's head from the sun. "Chisi," she said proudly, holding the baby out toward Zechariah. The baby's head was very big and its brown eyes enormous. It blinked at Zechariah.
    "The poor thing is starving," Hannah Flood said softly.
    "Do you speak English?" Zechariah asked slowly. English was the lingua franca on Kingdom, as it was throughout the Confederation of Human Worlds. All the peoples who'd emigrated there brought with them the languages of their forefathers but everyone used English, if not in their daily lives, then in their relationships with other groups.
    "Yes." The woman nodded. "Little." Her voice sounded like the rustling of old parchment. "Water?" she asked. Several of the onlookers rushed off to get the woman water. Someone produced a cup of milk for the child.
    "Where do you come from, child?" Zechariah asked.
    "Long way. From my people," she rasped, and pointed over her shoulder in the direction from which she had just come. She took the glass of water someone had given her and drank eagerly while one of the women gently removed the child from her arms and fed it milk. She drained the cup and bowed in thanks toward Zechariah.
    "Who are your people?"
    "Pilipili Magna. But all dead, all dead," Emwanna said tonelessly, and she drank deeply from her refilled cup.
    When Charles followed the Brattles out into the street, the first person he recognized was the red-haired woman who'd escaped from the caves with him, Colleen. The Sewalls had taken her in. Charles walked up to her, leaving Comfort with her father. "Long time no see," he said, putting his arm around her.
    "Charles, you saw me only this morning!" Colleen laughed and kissed him lightly on his cheek. Comfort noticed the intimacy and chided herself at the feeling of jealousy that surged up within her.
    Zechariah stood next to Emwanna and put his arm around her. "Friends, the Lord has seen to deliver this poor soul to us from the wilderness. It is our Christian duty to take her in, as we have Charles and Colleen and Chet. Who among us will care for this woman and her child?"
    "I will, Zechariah!" Hannah Flood bustled forward and took Emwanna under her wing. "I'll take that one too." She chuckled, pointing at Charles.
    "God bless you, Hannah. I believe—" He paused, looking for the right word, the ghost of a smile on his face. "—that Mrs. Brattle and I have grown very fond of Charles. Even if he does swear like a trooper," he muttered under his breath.
    "Friends," Zechariah addressed the rest of the crowd, "it's not wise to bunch up like this. Let us disperse to our homes and duties. Hannah will restore the woman and child and then we'll let her speak about her ordeal. Don't forget, guard mount changes in one hour." He beckoned to Charles, who joined him. "Charles, what do you think?"
    "I think she is only the first of many who will find their way to us, Zechariah. I think those things that killed your friends and held us in cages have devastated our world and they will be back for us." Although Charles could not remember what he had done in his former life, he