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Conversation around the dinner table was quieter than usual. Janus barely had an appetite. The near-catastrophe that had occurred had erased his desire to eat. Elix was not much better off. She poked at her food, moving it this way and that around her plate, as if she could fool everyone into thinking she had eaten just by piling everything on one side and then the other. Only the sounds of utensils on ceramic came from the family. Even Oren bouncing a soft bubble-fruit off of Janus's nose failed to liven up the atmosphere, though it earned him the usual, a punch in the arm from Cera. "Janus, dear, are you feeling all right?" Merin, Janus's adoptive mother, leaned over the table to him. He tried to dissemble his expression. "I'm okay." "Do you feel ill? Do you have a fever?" Merin stood up and gently touched Janus's forehead. "Aw, he probably just fell out of a tree. Ow!" Oren winced as Cera gave him another stern punch on the arm. The skin was already darkening into a bruise. "Maybe you should get extra rest tonight, Janus." Merin sat back down. Janus chewed on a tato root, the sweet tuber a bland sour mush in his mouth. He swallowed, stood up, and took his plate away. The curtain of strands of beads swung closed behind him with a soft wishing sound as he passed through the entryway to the kitchen. Everything looked different to Janus, threatening. Alone, his hands trembled as he scraped the food off of the ceramic plate and into the compost container. She almost died. The scene replayed itself in his mind. Elix falling away from him, into the widest expanse of nothing. It's my fault. I shouldn't have let her look. I...Elix... A shiver ran through his body, and he nearly dropped his plate. He steadied himself against the counter, relieved that no one could see him. C'mon... you can't let anyone see you like this. He placed the plate near the spout, and stood up straight. Over and over, her hands clawing for land in the emptiness, falling away. Clenched fists rubbed unsteady wet eyes. My own sister...if she had fallen... He took deep breaths, interrupted by tremors which ran through his muscles and tightened his lungs. Emerging from the kitchen, he noticed that all eyes were on him. Concerned, worried eyes. Janus plodded past, towards his room down the hall. "Don't worry about a bath tonight, Janus. Better get to bed early. I'll be in to check on you in a while." Merin watched him leave, and looked at her youngest daughter. Elix rolled a bubble-fruit around on her plate. The scene would not end. Elix fell, the ground tumbling away, great chunks of earth and stone cavorting around the child. Farther and farther away she fell. The ocean was dark and dead, waiting to swallow whatever may fall into it. The mountain's shadow slipped long over the waves. Elix's scream grew louder as she fell away. Janus reached, farther and farther over the edge, but he could not. He tried to grasp for energy, but felt none. He screamed, but found no voice. The earth under his toes felt loose and dead. His precious sister fell away from him, into the dark predatory ocean. In Janus's room, Merin sat on her adopted son's bed, a concerned hand on his shoulder, as he trembled violently in nightmare. Janus rested his head on his arms, on his desk. Abul was going on and on about Keer, about his great advances in restoring old historical documents that had thought to have been lost, about his brilliance, and about his phenomenal writing. Abul might as well have praised Keer's sandals as far as Janus was concerned, for it might have been more entertaining. Abul strode back and forth, from one side of the classroom to the other, side to side, front to back. "All right. Everyone, write on Keer's historical importance. You may write about his essay, or any of his other works, providing you have read them, or you may write about Keer himself." The students quickly went to work, parchment filling with letters, hands translating thought to word. Janus looked out the window, into the white ocean of clouds. A speck of movement in the distance caught Janus's eye, and he sat upright. Far away in the expanse of blue, a white bird flew. It promptly left Janus's sight, and he put his head back down on his desk. Abul walked down the line of desks and leaned over Janus. "Is this how you write an essay, Janus?" Grumpy, Janus sat back up, and carefully wrote on a sheet of paper: "Keer's opinion about the ground people was that they're stupid." He signed his name at the bottom. "Finished." Janus held the paper up to Abul. The man took the sheet of paper, turned it around, and read the single sentence at the top. His eyebrows became violent. "Janus, what manner of--" Abul was interrupted when the door in the back of the classroom opened and Cade walked in. The old sage seemed agitated about something. He strode to Janus's desk, watched by the curious eyes of the pupils, and their teacher. Janus looked up to the old sage. "Pardon me, Abul, but I would like to speak to Janus." Cade never spoke in such a curt tone of voice. "Certainly, Cade," Abul managed to stammer out. Janus stood up, confused, his expression blank. He followed behind the purple and black robes of Tasia's sage out of the classroom. At the door, an idea leapt into his mind, and a big weight hung itself from his chest. |
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Spirits of Blue and all characters contained within are © 2002, Simon Knowles. Unauthorized reproduction prohibited. Email me if you want to reproduce this somewhere for any reason. It's mine, mine, all mine! |