Storm Child: Book Four of the Black Bead Chronicles by J.D. Lakey

Author:J.D. Lakey [Lakey, J.D.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fantasy
Publisher: Wayword Press
Published: 2017-06-19T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14 – Afternoon, Day Three

Mora came through the door with a Mother Cheobawn did not recognize. Her Truemother stopped, frozen for a moment, as she assessed the damage done in her absence. The new Mother flipped a plait of shockingly red hair over her shoulder and crossed to greet Ivanna.

“Lowenna,” Ivanna said, patting the sofa next to her. “You are in luck. The water is still hot.”

“Cheobawn. What has happened?” Mora asked evenly, still standing by the door.

“Ivanna and Lowenna are trying to force your hand. They think to push you into making a decision against your will, pushing you to act prematurely,” Cheobawn said with a shrug, bending to retrieve the remains of her tea cup. “I fear I have broken another of your tea cups.”

Neither Mother denied her accusations. They just sat there, on Mora’s sofa, and watched their actions play out.

“And they think to use you as a weapon against me?” Mora asked.

“Yes.” Cheobawn said. She held the shards of Mora’s teacup in her hand, not sure what to do with them. Mora closed the door and moved gracefully across the room, her face as serene as her steps. She retrieved the broken crockery from Cheobawn’s limp fingers and dropped them into the trash basket by her desk.

Cheobawn closed her eyes and lifted her chin, trying to ease the tension in her neck. “Truth be told, I am a weapon, your weapon, designed for a purpose. Ivanna has reminded me of this, though I have always known it and never admitted it to myself. I have been pretending that you loved me. How can a child survive such knowledge, otherwise? You are sending me down below the Escarpment. When were you going to tell me this?”

Mora considered her, not denying any of the accusations.

“I had hoped that you might reach your majority.” she said finally, the words coming reluctantly from her mouth. “At sixteen you would be counted as an adult who could make decisions for herself.” Mora sat and poured herself some tea.

“Is this the Black Bead?” Lowenna asked Ivanna, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“Yes, dear,” Ivanna said. “Now hush. It has just become quite interesting.”

“How?” Cheobawn asked.

“How what?” Mora asked.

“You had a plan. I am exactly as you made me. All the events of my life has been merely moves of a finely crafted War game. Surely, the end-game was not going to be left to chance? How was it going to play out?” Cheobawn asked, her mind gone numb and her heart gone cold.

“The caravans go south laden with trade goods four times a year. The Lowlanders take what we offer and leave what we demand in trade. There was to come a day when the pile of trade goods would include a living being. They would take you to appease the Fathers and keep the trade alive,” Mora said.

Cheobawn could barely breathe. She wanted Mora to stop talking because everything her Truemother said ripped holes in her heart but she had to know the whole truth.

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