Welcome to Gaia! ::

Um...heheh....bad news.

*spoilers*

She never actually gives them to him. It's a little sad.

But he gives her HER present. And she finds something else to give him that is...er...NOT....wait. TOO many spoilers.

PS, isn't it cute how ADD KAmile is? xp

teh spoilers are safe, mwahahaha!

And I am not yet caugfht for being online sweatdrop

XD!!!

Kamile makes me laugh.

If only for a little while.

Her ADHD changes to just ADD. *shrug*

Later.

well, that part isn't really sad.

Because sadness is relative.

And there are other things....

No more spoilers. Wait...I promise, two more chapters.

Chapter Six

“There are a lot of differences between the four races, but most of them are completely obvious.” Marli turned around, addressing her lecture to the class, waving the charcoal stick in her hand expressively. “Like, merpeople can breathe underwater, and dwarves look like rocks. Humans are very complex-minded, inventive, and very fast thinkers; and elves, of course, are completely devoted to the earth.

“Adaptations,” she recited slowly, writing the word on the slateboard, “and perceptions. I hope at least a few of you know those words. Adaptations are things developed over time, by necessity; the best example I can think of is the merpeople’s tails. Who knows? Once they may have been like us, or like something completely different. But they changed, because they needed to. Adaptations are a gift to complement another gift. In this case, the ability to breathe underwater was complemented by their tails, to better move underwater. So, merpeople have adapted.”

She wrote the word “tails” under the word “adaptation.” Beneath it, she wrote a few other words, such as “gills”, “sensory adaptation,” and “immunity.”

“Gills, as you know, are small slits on a fish that filter the oxygen out of water. Merpeople adapted them in the beginning for the same effect; you can see them on their necks, if you’re looking. Immunity refers to disease…dwarves, long since, developed an immunity to human diseases that spread when they first came in contact with each other. The humans’ diseases can be deadly to other races; not to us, thank the gods. Merpeople aren’t around any of the other races enough to really catch anything, though they have diseases of their own.

“Sensory adaptation refers to the senses. For example, elves have far sharper hearing, sight, and sense of smell than humans—about three times theirs—yet other races exceed our own. Why? Because they needed to. Depending on where you live and what you do, the senses you need most will heighten and the ones you don’t will not. For example, a blind person will have far better hearing than a normal person, because they need it. The senses compensate for each other.”

“Now, perceptions…that’s the way we think about things, like the world, the deities, our life. It’s also the way we see and feel. If adaptations make the races different, perceptions make us notice the differences, and feel envy, contempt, or distaste at those adaptations. For instance, humans don’t see the world like we do. We see it as branches of a Great Root, a blend of color and sound and smell and beauty given to us to protect and preserve. Humans, on the other hand, see the world as opportunity.” Again, she wrote the word on the board, this time under “perceptions”. “They see things not as they are, but what they can be. They look at problems and see not the problem itself, but the solution, and never once do they ever think there isn’t one. For this reason they find it hard to properly cherish our trees and animals, because they see trees as strong building material and animals as an ever-replenishing food source.”

Several people gasped, and they all stared. The very idea was ludicrous.

“I can see why you’re surprised,” Marli said with a small smile. “I don’t agree, but you see, that’s my perception. The humans aren’t wrong for seeing things this way. They’re just being themselves, the way they’ve been from the beginning. They’re very practical, and extremely intelligent, though if you ask me, or any elf, perhaps, their intellect sometimes precedes their morals. As in, perhaps someone will invent a cure for a disease, but before they think about it, they will give it to the world. The cure might have lasting repercussions, and could even start a new epidemic years later. It’s happened before; ever heard of the Meristan syndrome? No? That’s because it was replaced by the red plague.”

Several people winced in response to the name. Marli arched an eyebrow.

“Now you see my point.

“But perceptions are the key to living in harmony with the races. We disagree with the humans because of perception. We disagree with their view of opportunity, and they disagree with our view of protection.” She wrote “protection” beside “opportunity, and inscribed “versus” in between. “Neither of us think we’re wrong, or the other is right. That’s our perception. But every one of us, every single soul in Ametris perceives the idea of equality.” She circled the words beneath “perceptions” and wrote “equality” above them. “The idea that everything and everyone is equal. It’s our heritage. So, if you find yourself stuck the day after tomorrow, if you’re lucky enough to have a conversation with a member of another race, bring it up. Anyone over the age of reason will know what you mean.”

“What’s that?” a tiny girl up front piped, her hand shooting into the air.

“The age of reason?” Marli raised her eyebrows, sitting on an empty desk beside her. “How old are you now?”

She held up six fingers.

“Oh. Well, I suppose you’ll know what the age of reason is…when you reach it.”

“How many do you have to be?” the girl inquired.

Marli smiled. “Seven. You don’t have long to wait.”

She continued her lecture from the desk. “That’s another thing we all differ in,” she said as an afterthought. “The age of reason. Merpeople think it’s much younger; humans think it’s much older. I can’t say anything about dwarves…it’s different for each one, I think. Think of our seven versus the human’s seventeen or so versus the merpeople’s three or four. See how things change?

“Now, I should probably warn you before you talk to any of the humans, merpeople, or dwarves…they’re going to say weird things. It’s natural to them. Like… back to senses. Just one of many things…every race has different perceptions of the senses. Merpeople, obviously, nixed the sense of smell…but they have a different one, something like sonar…sound waves. Dwarves have a more acute sense of touch and hearing than we do, so they can sense the vibrations in rocks and stone and hear down tunnels. Both of those are adaptations. And humans…for some reason I still haven’t figured out, they only believe there are five senses.”

An older boy snorted. “Which one did they leave out?” he asked incredulously. “Sight?”

“No,” Marli replied lightly. “Emotion.”

Several people rolled their eyes.

“That’s perception, right there. They don’t trust anything that goes on in their head until they can see it or feel it or hear it…By what I know of them, they aren’t very trusting of really anything. We believe emotion qualifies as a sense because it’s something that responds to outside stimuli and changes your reality. If you thought it was warm but then you saw or felt snow, it would change your reality, wouldn’t it? Merpeople side with us on this, though dwarves are a lot more like humans…in fact those two races get along with each other fairly well. You’ll probably see that at the festival.

“Actually, the main thing to remember with humans is probably…”

Kamilé yawned.

This is boring…

No it isn’t, Everan replied calmly.

Yeah it is…She leaned on her elbow, watching Marli absently, and then reached over and stole Everan’s homework.

Hey! he objected. Don’t mess with that, I just finished—

Are these numbers? Kamilé interrupted, looking at it from every angle. Weird…

They’re not numbers, they’re variables…

Huh?

It’s a different level from you, you wouldn’t know.

Oh.

Give it back, he muttered, sliding it towards himself. She sighed.

Okay…I just wanted to draw…

He fished a crumpled sheet of parchment out of his bag, along with a charcoal stick, and handed it to her. Neat, she said cheerfully, thanks.

Next time, use your own homework.

Homework? she repeated blankly.

He shook his head. Never mind.

Shrugging, she picked up the charcoal stick and started to draw, taking painstaking care and hiding it with her arm, just in case Everan was looking. He wasn’t. When she was done, she slid it in front of him.


[stick figure—elf with “sword”. Shoot for smudgy and crappy with a frowny face. Her drawing ability: 2/10]


He stared at it. Wanna fight me? he asked her, a smile alighting on his face.

You’re on, she challenged, and without further delay he started to draw. She peered at it curiously; seeing this, he covered his work with his arm and shoulder, taking his time, until at last he straightened and gave it back. She frowned.


[towering stocky dwarf with an axe over one shoulder, finely detailed and very neat. His drawing ability: 8/10]


She made a few alterations and then passed it back.


[wide eyes on the stick figure, in motion of waving sword]


He grinned. Still on?

My person can beat your person, she retorted stubbornly. See? She drew a seven-pointed star on the figure’s chest. Hah, Everan. She stuck her tongue out at him. Bet your person isn’t a chosen.

He scoffed. Why would a chosen be fighting someone so big anyway? Without armor and stuff?

Because chosen are big and brave and they save people, stupid, she shot back. They don’t need armor, it’s built right in, your person can’t hurt my person…

Oh yeah?

Yeah!

I’ll show you, then!

He snatched the paper and charcoal stick and began to draw.


[axe splitting chest in half, right on star, whoosh mark, x’s over eyes. Not a lot of blood.]


Kamilé stared. Oh, that’s mean, Everan…

You lose. He smirked.

Nuh-uh, she objected, he isn’t dead yet, see…


[hand with puff of something smoky, question mark by dwarf’s head, blood everywhere.]


Everan stared. What’s that?

I dunno, but hah, you’re dead now. She grinned. I win.

But your person got another chance, he complained. Why can’t mine?

She sighed impatiently. Because, she explained, as if it were obvious, you already got my person, but he got yours before he—
“Thank you,” a voice interrupted, and the parchment slid out from under Everan’s nose. They looked up to see Marli twirling her charcoal stick as she inspected what they had drawn, an amused smile playing on her lips. Kamilé frowned.

“Gimme that,” she demanded, reaching up to snatch it. Marli held it out of her grasp.

“You draw it in here, it’s mine,” she replied calmly. “The point of school is that a teacher has the right to know how much talent—or lack thereof,” she added, raising her eyebrows— “my students have.”

Kamilé scowled, folding her arms and burying her nose in them, mortally offended. That’s not very nice…

Everan might have said something, but Marli interrupted again.

“Where’s your homework, Kamilé?” She added Everan’s to the stack in her hands, watching Kamilé expectantly.

“Um…homework?”

“Yes, homework. Did you do it?”

“What was it?” she asked carefully.

“It was different from everyone else’s, wasn’t it? I think it was subtraction. Did you do it, yes or no?”

She shook her head, avoiding her teacher’s eyes. Marli nodded, as if expecting nothing else, and addressed the class.

“I’ll say it again; if you don’t want to do the work, you don’t belong here. You want to be here, do the work. You don’t, then don’t come. You’re a lot more use helping your parents at home. No one makes you come here, so don’t waste my time.”

With that said, the class fell into an eerie silence, subdued by the stern lecture. Marli crouched down until she was eye level with Kamilé, her voice low.

“I’d like to see you after class, Kamilé, please.”

Kamilé ignored her, and she stood again and walked back to her desk. Kamilé sighed and buried her face in her arms.

I hate her…why’s she always picking on me, Everan?

He said nothing, staring straight ahead.

Hey, Everan…she persisted. You’re not mad at me, are you?

No, he replied vaguely, but she didn’t believe him.

I didn’t mean to…Honestly…I didn’t wanna get us in trouble…

She barely caught the movement, but it was there; he clenched both of his fists under the table, and she realized he was absolutely furious. She edged away.

Why should I care? he demanded angrily, practically shouting. What’s she going to do, tell our PARENTS?

Kamilé covered her ears with her hands, attempting to curl in a ball and hide under the desk. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, she wailed, don’t yell…please, it hurts…

I’m not mad at you, he said shortly.

Oh…she cast a wary glance at him. You’re not?

No. He said nothing more, but it was enough to cheer her up, even if he was still fuming.

Marli got up again and started to pass out sheets of thin parchment, explaining as she went. “We’re practicing arithmetic today. The homework was based on your own skill; this is divided by age. If you need any help, feel free to ask.”

She came to the row in the far back where they were sitting; both ignored her. she passed a sheet to Kamilé and handed another to Everan. “I thought we’d try something a little harder, Everan…just for fun. You’ve been finishing everything else very quickly, and you obviously know it, so I thought you needed a challenge. This is actually far out of a ten-year-old’s league—it’s called geometry—but I think you might be able to handle it. If you can’t, don’t worry about it…just do your best, okay?”

Everan nodded, still angry but refusing to show it.

“Well, geometry’s basically the study of—“

“He knows,” Kamilé interrupted vaguely, tracing a pattern on the desktop with her finger. Their teacher blinked.

“Oh…okay. Well, um…call me if you need help…”

She turned and went back to her desk, more than a little confused. When she had gone, Everan scoffed.

Not that hard…

And with that, he went to work, breaking his charcoal stick in half and giving a piece to Kamilé. She stared at her paper in confusion. To her, it looked like scribbles, and Everan’s like very complicated scribbles, with boring little pictures. She tried to pick out numbers in the maelstrom of smudges. It didn’t work.

Hey, Everan. She poked him, pointing to a problem on hers. What’s that?

He looked up. That? It’s a six.

And that?

A twelve.

And that?

He sighed. It says thirty-one minus six minus twelve. Can’t you tell?

No. Hey, Everan?

What?

What’s thirty-one minus sixty minus t-…tw-…?

He rolled his eyes. It’s thirteen.

How d’you write that?

Kamilé…

But I don’t know how to do it, Everan! she pleaded. Can’t you help?
He relented. Fine. Let me finish first.

He turned back to his own work, with the shapes and the interesting name she couldn’t pronounce. She watched, intrigued, as he solved each problem effortlessly, the math taking only the time to write it down. He seemed to completely ignore the fact that Marli had said it was too hard for him, covering the page with his neat handwriting. She found it amazing.


[problem]


How d’you do that? she wondered. He shrugged as he drew a circle around the answer.

She waited patiently for him to finish, watching the trees outside the window with her nose pressed against the glass and daydreaming absently, trying hard to ignore his voice as he said the steps to each problem aloud in his head. He spoke remarkably quickly, too, and after about ten minutes, he pushed the parchment aside.

What d’you need help on?

Everything, she sighed. He nodded.

We did that one already…here, he added, writing the answer down for her. This one over here’s easiest, wanna try it?

I guess so, she replied warily.

Okay. That’s a seven and that’s a twenty-four, and you’ve got to add them together. You know numbers, right?

Sure I do! She brightened at once; that was easy.

Let me hear it, then, he urged her patiently.

‘Kay, um…1-2-3-4…5…6-7…11…um, 12-13…what’s next?

14.

Oh, right. 14-15…16-17-21 and all the rest. She grinned, proud of herself. Right?

Not bad. He smiled, the highest compliment he could give. So if you have seven and twenty-four you have to count to twenty-four—‘cause it’s the biggest—and then count seven more numbers.

What is it?

I’m not gonna TELL you, you have to figure it out yourself.

Oh. She frowned. Why?

‘Cause she gave it to you. Here…

He drew twenty-four—she supposed—neat little dots along the side of the paper, in small, even rows. That’s twenty-four. So if I drew seven more—he did so—how many are there now?

She thought about it, counting under her breath. Thirty…thirty-two? No, thirty-one…

That’s right! Everan beamed. See, it isn’t so hard.

Mm, she droned, staring at the parchment. How d’you write a thirty-one?

Like this, he sighed, showing her.

Oh-h…but how do you do this one? That’s a different numbery thing, over there…

That’s a minus sign. It’s subtraction. See, you just draw the number on the top and you cross out how many you don’t need, right?

Oh…I think I get it…

Here, do this one, I’ll help…

Within minutes, the work was done. Satisfied, they played games under the desk for the rest of the class. Marli came by once, passing out two new sets of problems for them both, but Everan ignored his and so did she. Finally, their teacher said quietly, “If you’re finished, you can place your work up here and go.” Almost everyone turned their work in at light speed and ran outside, laughing and running towards the city square. Kamilé and Everan tried to sneak out quietly, but…

“Kamilé,” Marli called without looking up, “come here, please.”

She froze, glancing from Everan to the door to the window looking out on the forest to Marli. Finally, sighing, she headed for the teacher’s desk, with the willingness of one trudging up to the gallows. Everan followed.

“Sit,” Marli commanded vaguely, in the middle of checking homework. Kamilé climbed up onto the desk and swung her legs over the side, trying her hardest to keep still. Everan disappeared. There was a moment of silence, unbroken save by the occasional scratch of Marli’s quill. Finally, she spoke up.

“Sorry if I embarrassed you earlier,” she said calmly. “I give that speech to everyone who forgets homework, not just you. It was only fair.”

“’Kay,” Kamilé replied distractedly, watching a bird outside the window. Marli ruffled through the stack of parchment, extracting one from the rest.

“Well, you showed remarkable improvement in…twenty minutes,” the professor commented. “Miraculous, even. This is perfect, even though it isn’t in your handwriting…Then again, I’ve never seen your handwriting…”

Kamilé glared at the wall, offended. “I did it.”

“Not Everan?”

“No.”

“If you could do this, then why didn’t you do your homework?”

“Where’d Everan go?” Kamilé looked around, searching; Marli slapped a hand to her forehead in exasperation.

Right here, he informed her from behind the desk, where he was sitting to wait, reading some book.

“Kamilé.”

“What?”

Marli fixed her with an icy glare. “Is that any way to speak to a teacher?”

“Um…is there another way?”

Marli took it as impudent sarcasm; Kamilé was just confused. “Never mind. Look, Everan’s extraordinarily bright and everything, and it’s great of him to help you, but you have to do your own work, okay? It’s not about getting it right, it’s about learning how and—”

“He didn’t do it for me,” she objected. “He just wrote all the letters and stuff.”

“Letters?”

“Um…I think so.”

“Those are numbers,” Marli offered, sighing. “Everan,” she added in a louder voice, “did you do it for her?”

“No he didn’t!” Kamilé affirmed hotly.

“I asked him, not you.”

“That’s what he said!”

Marli arched an eyebrow, giving her a look. “Then why doesn’t he speak for himself?”

Kamilé mimicked her look. “Why should he?”

Teacher and student turned away from each other, rolling their eyes so that the other wouldn’t see.

“Anyway,” the professor continued, her voice forcibly more mature, “this is fantastic, great improvement…but why couldn’t you do your homework? I’m sure you had plenty of help if you needed it…”

“’Cause.”

“Because why?”

“’Cause I didn’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause.”

“Kamilé…”

“What?” she said innocently. Marli looked about to totally lose patience with her.

“Spill. Why didn’t you do it? You’re not in trouble, just tell me.”

Cornered, Kamilé had not other option but to tell her. “’Cause…’cause…it’s too hard…”

“Too hard?” Marli frowned. “Kamilé, you’re aware that this sort of thing is…at a seven-year-old’s level…aren’t you?”

“Um…” She twisted a strand of curly hair. “Might be kinda bad to ask now, but…what’s ‘aware’ mean?”

“Ai,” Marli muttered, shaking her head. “I don’t understand this, Kamilé.”

“What?”

“Well, this is your second year of school, isn’t it? And you two are twins…You haven’t progressed at all, and Everan’s far beyond my oldest students…I’m not exactly sure how that can happen, can you explain it to me?”

“He’s smart.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. Why aren’t you? Wee you taught differently?”

“Huh?”

“I mean, did your parents teach him all of this and not you? Or—hey, wait a minute—!”

For Kamilé had jumped off the desk and was preparing to run away. Marli caught her arm before she got the chance.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized. “It’s none of my business. I just want to know why you’re not using your own talent, Kamilé.”

Her voice was warm, but Kamilé saw the lie.

“I don’t have any. It’s his.”

Marli opened her mouth to say something, but decided against it. After a moment, she nodded. “I see. Well…Everan, I have to say, you did a lot better than I thought you would…perfect score, actually. Was it difficult?”

“No,” Kamilé offered. Marli glanced at her, confused.

“No what?”

“He said no, it wasn’t dicci…diffil…hard.”

“All…right…” Marli cleared her throat. “Anyway, Everan, I’m not sure what to do now…I suppose I’ll have to find a book with harder problems for you after the festival, I don’t know a lot about anything harder than that…I’m sure Kayle has a…”

She broke off, her eyes scanning the desktop, and without warning she started rummaging through drawers, lifting stacks of parchment aside and ferreting around with increasing panic. She swore under her breath.

“Where is it…? Um…you two…it’s a little green book, did you…?”

She paused as the book in question waved in front of her nose, Everan holding it up over the desk’s edge. She sighed in relief, laughing nervously as she took it from him.

“Oh, there it is…thanks…”

“He was reading it.”

“Of course…right…that’s…wait.” She froze. “Can you…read that?” she asked carefully. Kamilé found the question ludicrous.

“Can he read it, of course he ca—huh?” She peered over the edge of the desk at him, meeting his eyes incredulously. “You can’t? Gimme.”

She snatched the book from Marli and flipped it open, turning the book this way and that as she stared at it.

“Weird…weirdweirdweird…can’t read this at all…”

Everan snorted, but so softly that she could ignore it with ease.

“I know,” Marli shot back, her voice carefully guarded, and she took it back and shut it safely in a drawer. “I think only I can read it here…”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not in your language.”

“Why?”

Marli frowned. “Because it wasn’t written here.”

“W—?”

DON’T—say—“why”—again, Kamilé, Everan interrupted. She closed her mouth.

“Um…it’s pretty,” she offered, pointing at the drawer where the book was hidden. “The front was pretty…and the letters.”

Everan rolled his eyes. Marli beamed.

“Thank you…my mother wrote it, and gave it to me before…” She cut off, clearing her throat. “Well, anyway, it’s my favorite book…and the only one I can read, I never learned to read your language…”

“Uh-huh,” Kamilé agreed seriously. Marli took no notice.

“Well I guess…that’s all,” she said slowly. “Except you forgot to wear your uniforms again…” She waved an airy hand. “Oh well, who cares? I’ll see you two at the festival.”

Kamilé nodded and slipped off the desk. Marli folded something neatly and handed it to her.

“There’s your drawing back. The tall one’s quite good.”

She snatched it, scowling at the perceived slur on her artistic talent. Mean. As she passed Everan she grabbed his hand and led him to the door.

“Oh, and by the way…” Marli hailed them, calling them back. “Those scars look nasty, where did they come from?”

“Huh?” Kamilé turned, bewildered. “What scars?”

“On your foreheads.”

“Oh…” Kamilé touched the crescent-moon shaped mark absently. Everan lowered his head, hiding his, which faced the opposite direction as hers. “I dunno, always had ‘em I guess…”

“I see.” She nodded. “Well, ‘bye.”

Kamilé mumbled a reply, and they, turned and ran out of the door, closing it behind them. Marli started singing to herself as they left, and her voice followed them into the forest.

“Together we’ll stand, forever more,
On the sands of the distant faraway shore…”

She saw our scars.

They aren’t scars, Everan corrected her vaguely, his mind elsewhere. Scars go away. They’re marks.

Oh. I forgot we had ‘em.

Mm.

Did you?

Not really.

Does yours ever hurt?

No.

Mine doesn’t neither.

He didn’t bother correcting her.

Hey, can you remember where they came from?

No.

I thought you remembered everything.

Not everything.

Really?

Really.

Oh. Hey, Everan?

Huh?

When’s the last time you talked?

He paused, giving her a half-amused, half-skeptical look. Um…two seconds ago?

No, I mean…out loud…

Oh. He kept walking; she followed. I don’t know. It was ages ago…

Like, when?

I think it was when we were three…I got so annoyed that Pilori thought YOU were the smart one, I just had to say something…

Mean.

Sorry.

But c’mon…haven’t you said something since then?

Maybe, I dunno. Nothing important anyway.

It had to be important…you NEVER talk…

Mm.

Hey, Everan?

What?

What’s “mute” mean?

It means you can’t talk.

Is that what you have?

It’s not a disease, stupid.

CAN you talk?

Yeah. Sure.

Prove it.

No.

Everan…c’mon…

I don’t like talking.

Why not?

Because.

That’s not a very good reason.

I just don’t like it. People that talk never have anything interesting to say. The only important things I ever found were in books…

But…but I talk, she said, frowning. And I can’t write…am I boring, Everan?

No, you’re never boring.

But you said—

NORMAL people, Kamilé. Sorry.

I’m not normal?

Not really.

Are you?

No.

Oh, well that’s okay, then.

They fell silent, Everan’s eyes trained on the rough trail below his feet, Kamilé’s darting from side to side, seeing everything there was to see, save what she should have been paying attention to—that was, the ground. She tripped on a tree root, half-crying out with surprise as the ground rushed up to meet her. Everan grabbed her arm and pulled her back up without even looking at her. She swore, hopping on one foot until the pain receded.

Owowowowow…thanks, she added to him.

Anytime.

Hey, Everan.

Hmm?

Isn’t it pretty today?

He raised his eyebrows. I guess…

‘Cause I think so, and…hey, she interrupted herself vaguely, looking around in confusion. There’s only pine trees over here…

He smiled—well, almost. Random.

What is?

You.

Oh…what’s that mean?

He shook his head. Never mind…

Hmm…do I gotta do my homework now?

Why would you?

‘Cause Marli said so, or something like that…

If you don’t want to, then don’t.

Am I gonna get in trouble?

Do you care?

Well…no…will YOU get in trouble?

It’s your homework.

Oh, okay. She watched a few birds scratch through the undergrowth in search of worms to eat. Hmm…hey, isn’t she kinda short?

Who?

Marli, is she short or what?

He blinked, staring at her. What?

Doesn’t she look short? I mean, for a grown-up? ‘Cause she looks short to me—

She’s not a grown-up.

She…huh?

She’s not a grown-up, she’s fifteen.

Kamilé froze in her tracks. Fifteen?

Yeah. He kept walking.

Since when? she demanded, dashing after him.

Since her birthday, he replied, amused.

But…but…She found it impossible to accept. But she’s our…

Our teacher.

Yeah, so she’s GOTTA be a grown-up…

Fifteen is grown-up, Everan replied, obviously, taking no interest in the conversation. He led the way further into the woods. Around here, anyway.

But she can’t be lots older than us then! That’s…that’s…

Four years, he offered. Maybe five.

That’s…that’s not…Kamilé struggled to understand. There are people in our class older than her!

She’s a genius, Everan explained calmly. Or, she’s smarter than everyone else. And I guess she’s a good teacher.

Smarter than you?

He smirked, with a rare hint of vanity. Not quite.

They had arrived at a familiar spot, where a little pool of still water sat among the trees. Everan sat between the roots of an oak at the edge of the pool and started to read. Kamilé paced around in agitation, still hopelessly confused.

How come I didn’t know that? she fretted, kicking a pinecone.

‘Cause it’s not that big of a deal anyway.

But that’s not…that’s too weird… She stopped. Can you teach someone older than you?

‘Course you can. And anyway, he added, there’s no one in our class that’s older than her. The oldest ones are only thirteen.

How d’you know that? she demanded. He paused, thinking about it.

I don’t know. He shrugged and began reading again. Kamilé resumed her pacing.

That’s not fair…no one else is short like us…?

How DID I know that? he mused, ignoring her.

‘Cause I thought it other people were short it’d be okay if we were but she doesn’t count ‘cause she’s not grown up all the way…

Everan said nothing.

Not fair…why d’you think they get so tall? Do they eat soemthin’ different?

She waited for a response. There wasn’t one.

Guess they just eat a lot…y’know? Or maybe it’s ‘cause they got parents. Yeah, that’s it…gotta be…’cause everyone normal has ‘em…She thought about it for a moment. D’you think our parents are short?

Shut up, he warned her testily. She blinked.

But…well…She hesitated for a second. If they are…they’ll be easy to find…

SHUT UP! He shouted, so loudly it hurt. She froze a few feet away from him.

Huh?

Will you shut up already? He glared angrily at her, his book
forgotten. I told you, we don’t have parents and we never will! Forget about them, and about finding them, they aren’t there!

She collapsed on the ground, falling back on her heels. But…but Pilori said we had a mom…

She said she was our mom, too, he snapped, but she was wrong, I don’t believe ANYTHING she told us and neither should you!

Their eyes locked; his narrowed and glaring, hers wide and hurt.

But I thought everyone had a mom…she said quietly. Why don’t we?

We ran out of luck, he replied shortly, turning back to his book. She would have started crying, but he was definitely not in the mood to comfort her today.

But…but that’s not fair!

Life isn’t fair. He didn’t look up. It sucks, get used to it.

She stared at him for a long time, struggling to make sense of it. It was too difficult; she could not. After a while, she slid over until she was right beside him and rested her head on his shoulder.

What’re you reading?

He ignored her, save to try and shrug her off.

Are you mad at me?

Silence.

Please don’t be mad, Everan…I’m sorry…I won’t do it again…please?

In a sudden outburst of very un-Everan-like affection, he closed the book, reached over, and hugged her. The gesture was so uncharacteristic that it caught her off guard, though he let go as soon as he could. I’m not mad, he said simply, seeming unsure what to do with himself after that. She blinked, then giggled.

Hee hee hee, you’re such a girl, Everan…

I am not!

Are too!

Am not!

Are to-o!

He sighed and gave up, rolling his eyes. You’re a girl, though.

She took a moment to decide whether he was insulting her or just telling the truth. Uh…I guess so.

So why’s it an insult?

She grinned. Doncha remember? Leaping to her feet, she twirled around absently, and when she told the story she made it sound like some sort of fireside tale. It was a long, long time ago, when we lived in a big warm house in the middle of the city, and it was all wet and muddy and you’n me were playin’ outside, and then Pilori came out and got us and chased us around and she got mad at me…

She imitated Pilori, pointing her finger sternly at a large bug on the ground. “Kamilé, Kamilé, Kamilé, you silly girl, you’re not s’posed to get all wet an’ dirty ‘cause girls gotta keep clean alla time…

Everan almost smiled, and, encouraged, Kamilé continued.

“Lookit Everan—” She pulled someone invisible into the scene and patted the air at head height fondly. “See, he’s all clean, and he’s a boy too, he can get all dirty if he wants to but he doesn’t, why can’t you be clean like him?” And I said, “If he acts like a girl should then what’s that make him?” Ooh, she got mad at that…“Don’t pick on your brother, that’s not nice and girls are always nice, so if you’re a girl act like one!” And I said, “Why? What’s the difference?” And she said, “Boys get in fights and get dirty and talk dirty and chase girls around. Girls run away and make friends and stay clean and wear dresses and look pretty and play nice, of course!” So then I said, “Ick, that’s not fun at all, I’m gonna be a boy!” And then she got mad all over again and made me take a bath, but being a boy still sounds like a lot more fun!

Everan broke into a fit of silent giggles, and, satisfied that her work was done, she sat beside him again. She couldn’t help but laugh with him; it was so rare that she’d made it her sole aim in life long ago.

That’s not how it went, he grinned.

Close enough. She stuck her tongue out at him.

I like that story, it’s good.

Yeah, I know, she replied at once. But I got better.

I know. Hey, Kamilé?

Yeah?

How’d you find this? He held up the book.

What’s that?

The book about the chosen.

Oh. Aren’t you done with that? she scolded. He sighed.

Yeah, read it twice. But how’d you find it?

It says “chosen” on the front, doesn’t it? And that’s what you were looking for…

Well, yeah…but you can’t read…

That word I can, she said proudly.

Really? That’s good. He flipped the book open and pointed to a word inside. What’s this one, then?

That one? She looked at it, cocking her head to one side. I dunno…Fish?

He rolled his eyes. It’s the same word, Kamilé. And they look NOTHING alike…

Oh…Hey! She shoved him hard, offended. You tricked me!

So?

Mean!

Am not!

Are too, she muttered, distracted by the open book. What’s it about, Everan?

Chosen.

Duh. Is it infresting?

Very. He half-smiled, not bothering to correct her. They’ve got a lot of history about the chosen and everything, and a timeline and stories and all sorts of stuff…

Who’s the chosen now, Everan? she demanded, poking him. C’mon, tell me…

It doesn’t say, he told her, showing her an extensive family tree on the first few pages, pointing to where it ended. See, it stops here, I think right before Kilio and Tara, maybe they have their own book…

Well, that isn’t fair, she commented, turning pages at random. Can you read it to me, Everan?

No, he said at once, his voice guarded. I can’t.

Why not?

Because I don’t want to get you in trouble. He closed the book, placing it carefully into his bag.

Why?

Well, I don’t know…WHY…he rested his head in his hands, staring at the little pool. But I do know that…finding out about the chosen…and talking about them…it’s illegal, Kamilé.

Illegal?

Yes, he said somberly. We can’t talk about it, ‘kay?

Like, out loud, or tele…t-tele…

Probably both.

Oh…okay….Everan, are you in trouble?

Well, if you tell anyone, he said slowly, then I’m in a LOT of trouble.

She stared at him. He smiled reassuringly, though there was no heart in it.

Don’t worry, he told her. I don’t think they even know we exist.



It was her absolute favorite book, and tearing her away from it was not a very good idea. Thus, the soldier decided to break the queen away from the tome very gently, while on his guard the entire time; the news wasn’t very good, anyway.

“M-…my lady?”

“Mm.”

She didn’t even seem to notice, so absorbed in the lines and swirls of the calligraphy. She turned a page; there were pictures, too, highly detailed and realistic, of people, of sorts—they looked like mermaids. The soldier hesitated, confused as to the course of action…none of them had ever been trained for something as delicate as this.

“Er…what book is that, Milady?”

She ignored him for a few seconds, only answering after she had turned the page, spouting something in another language. He supposed that was the title. Deciding he was not quite ready to break the news, he tried again.

“What’s it about?”

“Magic,” she replied vaguely, again taking her time in answering. “And a bridge, and the perfect world it leads to.”

“Oh…sounds very interesting.”

“Mm. Did you need something?”

He swallowed; there was no getting around it. “Y-y-yes…there’s someone to see you, Milady…”

“Okay,” she said carelessly. “Who, the one I was looking for?”

“Yes…of course…”

“You don’t sound very happy about it…”

He swallowed again, hard. “Well…that is…he put up quite a fight…”

“And?”

“And like you said, he’s a very powerful magi…”

She raised her eyebrows, still reading. “And…?”

“There were several casualties…eight, in fact. And two deaths.”

“Ah.”

There was silence, broken only by the crackling of a page as she turned it.

“Okay,” she said distantly after a while. “Bring him in.”

The soldier performed a hasty bow and slipped out of the room, relief coursing through his veins. He had expected much worse…

The queen kept her eyes on her book as twoscore or so of soldiers marched in, bearing in their midst a tall, aging man, who stood proudly despite his bound hands and bleeding mouth. The captain of the patrol saluted.

“Human t’see you, Milady.”

She did not reply, keeping her attention focused on the book.

“There’s…” The captain had decided to reiterate. “There’s a human to see you, Milady…that magi…”

“I heard,” she told him. “And why are you still here?”

The captain paused. “Milady, perhaps I should leave a dozen of mine in here…for your own safety, of course.”

“Yeah…don’t,” she ordered. He nodded and barked an order to his men, who followed him out of the double doors, leaving her alone with the man. He seemed out of breath, and his eyes revealed more fear than he showed.

The silence held for a long time, in which the queen read her book with semi-innocent amusement, and in which the man did a multitude of things; watched her, tried to pull his hands from the ropes binding them, and even tried edging towards the door, though when she saw this she drew the line.

“You don’t seem very hurt,” she commented, glancing up at him. He froze. “I mean,” she continued, “I would’ve thought it would take more to bring you here, since two of my soldiers ended up dead.”

He said nothing, attempting a defiant glare, though it didn’t work against her.

“There was no need,” she said calmly. “It’s not like I would have caused you any harm…still…” She heaved a dramatic sigh. “Attacking anyone with my insignia on them is treason, and the punishment for treason is death…”

She felt the man starting to shake, try as he might to suppress it. It was almost funny, the way he pretended like he was in control…

“Oh well.” She shrugged, closing the book at last and rising to her feet. “What a shame.”

The shaking increased, so violently that she could hear his teeth rattling. For the first time, she turned to look at him. The remnants of the haughty glare melted under her cool, reddish-brown gaze.

“However,” she said slowly, so he wouldn’t miss a word. “I’d be willing to make an exception.”

The man drew back slightly, looking as if he did not know what to make of it.

“I have no reason to trick you.” It's just for fun, she thought, suppressing a smirk. “You have my word; I’ll release you in a heartbeat, if you like.” She gave him a moment of hope before he grew suspicious. “But in return,” she added, confirming his fears. “You have to do something for me.”

Their eyes met, and she stared him down with ease. He turned his eyes to the ground, avoiding her gaze. At last, he spoke.

“Name it, Milady.”

She allowed herself a satisfied smile, leaning against the wall and folding her arms as she looked him over.

“I would like…information. No lies, no fabrications, no fireside tales. Just everything you know to be true. And as a magi, I suspect you know something…don’t lie and say you’ve never heard of it. Try something like that and I’ll really push at that treason charge. But if you tell me something worthwhile, I’ll let you go, even give you a safe passage home.”

The man closed his eyes, breathing hard, struggling to retain his composure. She waited patiently, knowing he was cornered and had no choice. Men like him could fake nobility with ease, but even they valued their lives…A lot more than it’s worth, she told herself scornfully. Drop the heroism, you’re not doing anyone any favors.

It took him quite a while, but at last, he looked up, nodding solemnly. She smiled in approval.

“Are we agreed?”

He sighed almost inaudibly, his entire posture exhibiting total submission. “Aye, My Lady…agreed.”

“Good.” She smiled triumphantly, taking a seat in her comfortable armchair and crossing her legs, resting her hands on the armrests. “Now, if you please…”

She leaned forward, locking his gaze with hers, eyes brightening with a red flame that paralyzed him to the core. “Tell me everything you know about Ametris.”

Ohh, that's so nice. >.<

I finished it.

Well, like the chapter.

And I decided to combine chapters 1 and 2, because chapter six turned out to be thirty-two pages long. O.o So part one of chapter six is now chapter five.

^^

it's not much longer than it was before. *huff*

tell me whatcha think.