Authors: Nat Burns
“Can we trust it, Cleome?” Airgialla asked.
We both turned and looked at the Diarmin together. It was lying on its back, scratching at its protruding, circular belly with both hands, purring contentedly.
“I have promised it asylum here,” I admitted. “It doesn’t want to go back to incarceration in Endet. I think it will do anything not to be sent back there.”
“And it will reinstate the machines before implementing the veil?”
I nodded. “That is what we bade it do.”
“And what of us?” Lasse Sky asked. “We break the motherhood of the Meab clans? The twelve Mothers have always worked as a unit. You expect half of us to be on the other side of this veil?”
Silence fell as the Mothers pondered this question. Finally, Olive rose to her feet.
“While we have the greatest honor and respect for our sister Mothers of the Brinc clan, it seems our paths, that of Brinc and Witta, have diverged greatly. Your way of life has become destructive to us, the Witta, and also to all the elementals and sprites that are the framework of our society. You seek to enslave others, disrespecting their ken and their physical bodies. You seek to destroy the forest home that the Witta so lovingly maintain. In good conscience, we cannot allow these things to happen.”
“But...but—” Ani said.
Olive held up a stalling hand. “As we have stated many times, we do not seek to interfere in the path you have chosen, but we must insist on the same from you.”
I spied fear brewing in the Brinc Mothers and, though I tried to disallow it, satisfaction grew.
“And the lake,” Lasse whispered. “Where shall our dead and born come from?”
I turned to Occil and motioned for it to answer.
“I can’t make the veil bisect the lake. It would kill the ancient ones.”
“So, how would that—” Isten asked hollowly.
Ani stood abruptly. “We don’t need your lake,” she said haughtily. “We will create new ways for our machines to do these things for us. We have infinite power in our lightning. We do not need your outdated wit ways. In fact, I would say that we will no doubt prosper better than the Witta because we do not have to bow down to the archaic rituals and superstitions that you live your lives by.”
A few of the Brinc Mothers nodded but not all. They just looked terrified.
A long silence fell as we all pondered these new truths that once spoken were becoming real.
Olive stood finally. “We vote. How say you, MayApple Straw? Are you agreeable to the veil separating Brinc and Witta lands.”
“Aye.”
“Ambley Resin?”
Ambley of Resin join had been a good friend to my mother until the Brinc had pulled away. She studied my face, hers filled with sorrow. “Aye.”
“Aria Song?”
“Aye.”
“Ani Outlie?”
Ani glared at me. “Of course not! It’s a foolish idea.”
“Holly Lore?”
“Aye.”
“Isten Givan?”
“Nay.”
“Airgialla Basil?”
“Aye.”
“Morn Ray?”
“Nay.”
Olive turned to Levi. “The count, Levi, please.”
Levi scratched his nose. “How votes the eldest daughter of Widdershin join?”
All eyes turned toward me. “Aye,” I said.
“And I vote aye as well,” Olive said.
“Then that’s seven for the veil and three against,” Levi said. “The new Silver Veil will be implemented.”
After another long moment of silence, the Mothers stood as one and strode from the cavern.
MayApple paused at my side. “Do you need one of us to go with you to the citadel?” she asked.
“No, I will have Yewsy with me.”
I saw a flicker of pride flash across her face. She leaned and kissed my brow and spoke a working of protection. “Blessed be,” she said.
THE DIARMIN AND I made the long trek down Ziv Mountain, even though dusk was building. Yes, Occil could have taken us home instantly but truthfully, I wanted a few minutes to think about the revelations of the day. Seeing the Mothers in action had given me a new appreciation of who they were as leaders. Amazing, strong women, true leaders of their joins.
“I think I will like living here again,” Occil said as it negotiated a rocky cascade. “It’s quite different than before. The Meab have evolved well.”
I smiled lopsidedly, more for myself than for it. “Well, glad we meet with your approval.”
“You know, there’s no way the Sheadha could have existed out here. Their bodies were used to very different conditions,” it continued.
“What are they like? Physically, I mean.”
“The Sheadha? Well, they reek of stars—”
“Wait. Stars. Like in the night?”
Occil nodded and skipped over a hummock of grass. “That’s where all our power comes from. Didn’t you know that?”
I shrugged. “I never thought about it.”
“Not surprising,” it said. “We made you that way. The magic of star energy just is and you have the ability to manifest it from the earth all around you. We gave you that.”
“And the Sheadha?”
“Trapped here. Your star Sol is too far away to provide fuel for travel. So they stay, look after you,” it said, absently.
“Would we perish without them?”
The Diarmin stopped and pressed both hands against its round belly. “I don’t know...what is, is and probably always will be. It’s all I remember.”
“Do you remember coming here from the stars?” I asked, curious about its life before.
“No.” It shook its head and moved on, jumping to the next hillock. “I was birthed after the landing.”
I paused, filled with sudden trepidation. “Is this the best way, Occil? Afton? Do we do the right and proper thing?”
Occil was obviously pleased that I had asked its opinion. It paused with me and looked up to study my face. “Connect, please,” it said, raising one bony arm.
Afton divided and sent tendrils to Occil and to my arm. Images appeared. Meab, Brinc and Witta alike were dying, gasping for air. Lake Feidlimid appeared with painfully thin, tall creatures, the Sheadha, dying on lakeshores bereft of water. Fires burned elsewhere and harsh, black smoke choked the land. Fammies moved everywhere, searching for the lake, laden with the bodies of those they had loved and cared for.
I jerked my arm away, my heart pounding in terror. “No,” I whispered.
Occil broke the connection and shooed Afton away. “Believe in what you do, Meab,” it said. “We create a different reality by our actions.”
“Are...are you sure that’s how it would have been?”
Occil shrugged. “That’s what the seers have shown us. With the admonition that it can be changed.”
We walked through darkness in silence for a short time. Afton caressed my back, lovingly.
“So, separating ourselves completely from the Brinc destructive influence is the very best course of action,” I said finally, with conviction.
Occil nodded.
We had reached the shadowed shores of the Adair River and Occil glanced up at me, revulsion marring its odd features. “Surely we are not crossing this in a craft!” it said.
I sighed. “Guess not. Take us home, Diarmin!”
“What did they say?” Yewsy asked as soon as we appeared in the common room of the cottage.
I blinked slowly. Traveling with a Diarmin was unsettling to say the least. “They...uh...they agreed.”
Avapeony leapt to her feet. “That’s wonderful.” She clapped her hands and danced around the room with Occil.
Yewsy took my arm and together we turned to Ronat. Her head hung and sorrow radiated from her. Purth cradled her in mist, gray and brown.
“Ronat?” I said, moving close to her. “I am so very sorry it has had to come to this.”
She looked at me, wiping tears from her cheeks. She tried on an ill-fitting smile. “I...I understand, I do. It’s just....” She pushed Purth aside.
Avapeony slid onto the cushion next to her. “Oh, love, I am so sorry. I forget what you must be going through.”
Ronat straightened her spine. “Yes, and no regrets. My people have brought this on themselves by forgetting who they are. Truthfully? I want no part of who they are now. I’ve never fit there, never felt it my home.”
She looked adoringly at Avapeony. “You are my home now,” she whispered. “I knew that the moment I saw my brother leading you, wrists bound, along the hallway. When you raised your eyes to mine as you passed by, I felt an eternal connection such as I’d never felt before.”
I glanced at Occil, only to discover it was watching them, tears streaming down its ruddy cheeks.
“Occil? Are you all right?” I asked.
“It’s just...you all are just so...beautiful,” it sobbed, burying its face in Yewsy’s tunic.
Yewsy eyed me challengingly as she jerked the tunic from its grasp.
“So what is the plan for tomorrow,” she asked.
“Now, we all sleep and marshal our energy for tomorrow. We will need it,” I replied.
“Will the mothers be there or are we on our own?” Avapeony asked, still holding Ronat close.
“We’re on our own,” I answered. “But we have the most important ingredient.” I set my glance on Occil. “We will be fine.”
“I’m sure we’ll encounter resistance,” Yewsy said. “I think we should be prepared for that.”
“I agree,” Avapeony added.
“There’s not much resistance they can offer—” I began.
“Certainly not against me,” Occil said, braiding woodbine into a thick, woody rope. “Have no worries, Meab. Tomorrow we will go at midday. They won’t expect us then and all will be to our advantage.”
“So, tomorrow,” I said, extending my hand. The other Meab moved close and our hands and fammies joined. Occil leapt onto a chair and joined in, placing his little hand in our joined ones. Earthrise lifted and spiraled all around us. With peace and joy, we parted.
“Wow!” Occil said, plopping down into the chair. “What a rush!”
“IS IT TRUE?”
The chirpy voice penetrated my closed lids and caused me to see a rainbow of bright colors against my eyelids. Wind, generated from fluttering wings, inundated my face and I found it hard to catch a breath. Wearily, I brought up my hand and swatted ineffectively at the creature.
“Are you really going to put up a veil? I heard it from Hirrup this morning, who heard it from one of the Mothers. So, in that case, it has to be true, don’t you think? Well, I knew that if I came to my friend, Cleome, she would know. It seems that you are just in the middle of everything, doesn’t it? So how will the veil work? Will the Brinc side be unable to see us anymore? Surely, there will have to be some...some doorway so that the two can connect.” She flew up and hovered above my bed. “But wait, that may not be what we want. We don’t want new atrebuds to be exposed...”
“Will you shut it up!” Yewsy cried out, shoving her pillow over her head.
I groaned and turned over onto my back. “Hello, Tsisi.”
The Jana flew close to my face. “So it is true, then? Another veil?”
I nodded and slid from the warm blankets. Daylight had dawned, and I felt a sense of relief. Today the issue of the Brinc would be put to rest, one way or another.
Tsisi followed me into the common room and watched, humming, as I reignited the fire and made the room ready for the day. I put a kettle of water on for tea then sat at the table to wait for it to heat.
The Jana perched on the table and studied me. “Isn’t there any way to put it all back the way it was,” she asked finally. “I hate that the Meab has to be divided this way. I mean, I remember how it used to be. Brinc and Witta, side by side, working together as one people. Then Dot’s Mother, Kifly Prosee, started behaving oddly. No one said anything at first but she started leaving her join to fend for themselves. Their hearth wasn’t dusted, the Fey uncared for, the Lares unblessed. And no food brought in, if you can even imagine that. But if you don’t take care of the hearth Fey, you’ll go hungry.”
Her voice fell conspiratorially.
“Then later we discovered that she had found a wounded Milesian and had healed him with her magic. He went back across the veil, but before leaving, he gave her one of his machines and directions on how to create many, many more. Prosee join was the first to start making and using them, you know. It was Prosee.”
“That’s what I heard,” I agreed.
“I don’t understand the appeal, being magic based as we all are. Do you understand why, Cleome? They really should reconsider their way of life. Don’t they understand that to lose magic is to lose life—”
“Tsisi, it’s too early for this. Get Afton to show you the discussions we had yesterday. All of that was dealt with then.”
The Jana landed on my shoulder as I rose to get hot tea.
“Ahh, I see. Yes, it’s true we cannot force our will on another. It is just and true. It seems a veil is the best way to prevent them from taking what we have. You know, without magic, resources are finite, aren’t they? If we could maybe reteach them how to use their magic, maybe their own resources would grow.”
“But they have to want it, Jana. And they don’t seem to. Our hands are tied.”
“Good morning,” Occil said, emerging from behind a large pot of rosemary.
“Eeek!” Tsisi shrieked. “It’s still here!” She cowered behind the teapot.
I looked at her and blinked, trying to understand. “Tsisi, what part of what Afton showed you did you not understand? The Diarmin will put the veil in place. And will remain here.”
“As part of your join? Can they even do that? Diarmin, I mean. Don’t they have to live in Endet because they are such troublemakers?”
“Hey,” Occil said. “I don’t come around here saying bad things about you.”
“That’s because there’s nothing bad to say,” Tsisi shot back. “Are you sure the Mothers said that this was all right?” she asked me.
Yewsy yawned loudly as she entered the common room. “Can you be any louder?” she asked sleepily.
“You might as well stay awake and help me with these two,” I said, taking a sip of my rapidly cooling tea.
Yewsy yawned again but nodded. She seated herself and poured a mug of tea from the pot. She bent her elbow and propped her head in one hand. Her tired eyes studied Occil and Tsisi who were still hotly arguing, mostly about how neither one