Apprentice to the Gods by D.T. Read

Author:D.T. Read [Read, D.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Theogony Books
Published: 2023-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The public transport from the airfield to Old Trade Center spooled billows of russet dust behind it all the way to Awénasa City. Flying grit rasped on the tinted windows like a small creatures’ scrabbling claws. Late autumn’s chilling rains would dampen the dust soon enough, I knew.

Madam Graebel, seated beside a window, stared across the craggy terrain and murmured, “I never though’ to visi’ this world again, le’ alone come and live here.”

When we exited the transport at last, stumbling with fatigue in the higher gravity, I swept the plaza for Demothi. Remembering the incident during Wanikiya Ceremony, I felt an unexpected stab of concern at his absence. Have the Council’s enforcers arrested him as a seditionist? What would they do to a crazy old man?

“Amber Cliffs Gallery.” Madam Graebel sighed on spotting the tall, yolk-yellow structure where she’d once hosted an art exhibition.

Seems like a decade ago. Aloud, I said, “Gram’s shop is six doors to the left of it.”

Donnol hadn’t said anything, but the redness of his face revealed his increasing pain and fatigue.

His prosthetic leg or the gravity. Maybe both.

My knee had begun to twinge, but I handed him my walking stick. “If you’ll carry this, I’ll carry you.”

He replied with a weary nod. Setting my teeth, I hoisted him onto my shoulders.

Kimama flung Gram’s shop door open before we reached it and burst outside to greet us. “Ku! Donnol!” she exclaimed. “And the baby!” Beaming, she fell in beside Derry and held out a finger for Garnan to grasp.

Gram welcomed us inside with arms spread wide. She hugged everyone in turn, but couldn’t tear her gaze from Garnan. Though he’d begun to fuss with hunger, Derry yielded him into her arms when Gram reached for him.

“I can see both of you in his face,” she said and bounced him against her body. “Akuleh’s hair, and Derry’s complexion.”

“My loud mouth,” I said with a grin when Garnan’s hungry cries grew more insistent.

“Your eyes,” Gram said, fixing me with a meaningful gaze, and returned him reluctantly to Derry.

“You need to hear his Birth Chant,” I told her.

“Dinner first,” Gram said. She led us toward the stairs at the shop’s rear. “All of you look exhausted.”

Kimama sidled up to me as we followed Gram along the main aisle. I didn’t need her elbow nudge, the thrust of her chin, or the grim narrowing of her eyes to direct my attention to an empty shelf. I’d already noticed it, stark among the ones laden with colorful tins and jars of imported teas and local honey and preserves. It lay at about shoulder height to a tall man, and it had displayed miniature hand-thrown and painted pots of healing salve.

Before I could ask, Kimama whispered, “I have to tell you about it, Ku. It’s important.”

Very important, my gut told me.

* * *

Gram had made my favorite maize and chicken stew, and maize bread sweetened with wildflower honey. We adults were too tired to talk much while we ate, though Kimama and Donnol chattered together.

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