Part 5 (2/2)
”They left Ada a long time ago, less than a hundred years after we arrived. Only Odreld remained. When his father Orand wrote the Yrsten Prophecy, the others feared evil would come to Ada and exploit their abilities.”
”I don't mean to sound irreverent,” said Caleb, ”but they don't strike me as very courageous.”
”Perhaps. Bravery is a little harder when you can glimpse the future. What few of their prophecies they gave us are kept at Gerentesk.”
”Any ever been fulfilled?”
”Not since Alyrgor, the ancient prophecy of Heradnora's fall. We were a wandering race for many years afterward, and very little of our written works survived. The Prophets were too secretive about anything they preserved. Now, no one knows if they even exist.”
”The records, or the Prophets?”
”Both. They could answer many questions.” She paused, then rose from her chair. ”This may sound odd coming from a Loremaster,” she said with a curl of her lips, ”but I'm sick of talking about history!” She walked around and offered her hand. ”I think you'll like the view from the balcony.”
Caleb took her hand, bewildered by the sudden change, while Yote entered and started clearing the table. Returning to the central hall, they climbed the stairs and walked down a short pa.s.sage to a small door on the east side of the house. Telai closed it behind them, while Caleb crossed the balcony to the railing.
The lights of Ekendore shone all about them. To their left, through the boughs hanging over the balcony, the windows of the palace glowed like flickering embers. Directly ahead, beyond the peaked roofs of Gerentesk, the Tarn reflected a bright yellow moon lifting over the Old Wall far away. Telai leaned back against the rail, her eyes closed, listening as the breeze stirred the leaves into music. It wasn't long before Caleb decided which view he liked best, and the minutes pa.s.sed, sweet and forgotten, as he lost himself in the quiet vision of her beauty.
”You may not know this,” said Caleb, ”but Warren has a crush on you.”
She emerged from her trance with a smile. ”I suppose I only have myself to blame. I can't seem to help it. He's like a sponge, he just soaks up love and attention.”
A faint melancholy stole into his heart. ”He's always been that way. But I wish you had known him before. He could have learned your language in half the time it took me.”
”How's he doing? Looks like he's made a few friends.”
”Only a few. He gets pretty frustrated, so I try not to push him too much. Speaking of which,” he said, folding his arms, ”why is it he can understand you and not them?”
Telai searched his expression. ”What do you mean?”
”Earlier-when you asked him if he wanted your gift, and he nodded.”
”Oh, that. It's something I've felt since we first met. A sort of ... well, connection, I suppose.”
”Is it this special talent of insight I've noticed? Your mother seems to have it, too.”
”No. That's simple clairvoyance, or larone-which, I should warn you, isn't the politest subject to talk about in public, especially in reference to the Overseer or the Council. It's an undoc.u.mented requirement of their position.”
Caleb winced. ”The Council, too? I'm glad I didn't know that before the Judgment. And I'm losing count of how many times I've offended you today.”
She dismissed his guilt with a wave of her hand. ”I can be too frank with people sometimes.”
”Would it be rude to ask why it's different with Warren?”
”Different from larone? It's more direct, in a way-like there's a part of him trying to break out of his sh.e.l.l.” She hesitated, her brow furrowing. ”Do you think he'll be all right?”
He froze, then turned away, placing his hands on the railing. ”Why do you ask?”
”He looks thinner, and he seems to be taking more naps lately. He isn't getting sicker, is he?”
Caleb didn't answer.
”There's certainly nothing wrong with his appet.i.te,” she added. ”Does he get enough sleep?”
”I don't know,” he answered, more abruptly than he intended. ”He's been having a lot of nightmares.”
”About what?”
”His mother, sometimes.”
”Well, that's to be expected. He must miss her terribly.” She stepped closer. ”What was she like?”
His melancholy grew to a flood. Yet even this subject was preferable to where the conversation was heading. He knew he would have to tell her the truth one day. But the last thing he wanted now was to taint her growing affection for the child, to be reminded of Warren's short future with each glance or gesture of pity.
”Her name was Karla,” he said. ”She had eyes exactly like Warren's-so clear and blue I swear they could see right through me. Nothing got past her, not where I was concerned, anyway. I couldn't even enter a crowded room without her knowing it.” He smiled. ”She said it was like a h.e.l.lo in her head.”
”Karla,” Telai repeated softly. ”A simple, honest name. But what happened to her?”
The question stopped him cold. Karla was like that, too-no apologetic preludes, no hedging, just unsullied candor that tripped him up more times than he could remember.
He began cautiously, explaining her sickness much as he did before the Council. ”I'm still not precisely sure what went wrong,” he said. ”Some mental test at the research establishment where she worked. She simply faded away, month after month, hooked up to machines to keep her body alive. Then one day I walked into her room, and it hit me,” he said, his voice beginning to shake. ”I didn't recognize her. And what really tore at me was when I wondered if she might not recognize herself anymore.”
He bowed his head and clenched his fists. One more word would have released the storm. For months he had kept his fury in check, until he was so disciplined at it he could endure even the relentless questioning of the Overseer. Yet here, in the soft ambiance of a summer evening, he was defenseless.
”You don't need to say any more, Caleb Stenger-not when it hurts this much.”
The sound of her voice, so different from Karla's yet still so full of compa.s.sion, gave him unexpected strength. At last he understood. His grief was not desperate as much for release as it was for recognition. Telai was the first person to open that door for him, either here or on Earth, and his heart had responded. It couldn't have done anything else.
”Actually, I do have to say more-because you deserve to know,” he answered. He took a deep breath. ”The moment I understood what she might be going through, I made my decision. I refused to let her suffer anymore.”
Caleb gazed out over the rail, finding some measure of comfort in the glimmering lights. ”Do you understand what I mean, Telai?”
A long silence followed. Then he felt the warmth of her hand on his arm. He mustered the courage to face her again, and her soft gaze was answer enough.
He sighed. ”Not exactly the best thing to tell a girl on a date.”
Her smile was genuine, and it worked on him like a tonic. ”No need to apologize, Caleb Stenger. I'm honored.”
”Yes. But there's something else I've been meaning to tell you,” he said, anxious to put his confession behind him. ”It's customary among my people to refer to each other only by their first names.”
Telai blinked at him. ”It took me long enough to get used to you having two names!”
”I'm sorry, I should have told you before.”
”Don't worry, I'll manage. Besides, I've been every bit as neglectful about not telling you a thing or two. But does the second name have a meaning?”
”Yes, it's a family name.” He chuckled quietly. ”Everyone keeps saying Caleb Stenger and Warren.”
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