Orphans - Kevin Killiany [1]
“Tomorrow,” he murmured, Striver’s ear twitching at the sound of his voice. “Tomorrow, the quest.”
The riderbeast seemed unimpressed, but the creatures were not known for their sense of adventure. Naiar set the grooming tools on the shelf and checked the level of the feed trough. With a final pat for his mount, he let himself out of the stall.
In the stable yard he paused, his eyes following the curve of the world up and up until it was lost in the haze of the sky. Some mornings, just as the source breached the Dawn Mountains, Naiar knew the fabled lands above the sky could be seen, just for a moment, in the morning glow.
Until three fours of days ago, he had thought his destiny lay there, above the sky. That had been the goal of his proving quest.
But then the gnomes had appeared, stumbling out of the mountains near a fallen hollow. Strange creatures, shaped much like People, but short and hairless, or mostly hairless. Strangest had been their faces, with eyes above the nose, squeezed down toward the bottoms of their heads.
They had stayed awhile in his father’s House, though they ate nothing they had not brought with them and drank only water, and that after they had added strange herbs of their own. The Doctors believed the gnomes feared some binding curse that would hold them to the land of the People, but Naiar, who had nearly choked when he tried a bite of their food, suspected the gnomes simply did not eat as People did.
The gnomes had said, in the days before they lost their speech, that they were seeking access, though to what was not clear. They had been fascinated by the stories of the hollows of the Builders and made much of the mirrors purchased from the Barony of Atwaan. The two who might have been female had listened for hours as Nodoc recounted the histories of mad giants and children who had wandered from the depths of the world generations before.
When they could no longer speak as People—their powers, the Doctors said, fading in this world—the gnomes had left the Tetrarchy and the borders of the known world. They had followed the direction of the source—duskward, away from the mountains—seeking the origins of the old stories. His father had given them writs of safe passage, though how far that would carry them in the wilds was uncertain. Not every House and Hold loved the Tetrarchy when the Tetrarch’s armsmen were not present. Most thought the gnomes to be mad, but Naiar knew now his destiny was to follow them, to learn the secret of this access.
The lands above the sky had always been there. They would be there still for him to explore when he returned from his proving quest. Though he was heir in his brother’s stead, it would be many fours of seasons before his training in governance became intense. Time enough to pursue his dreams.
Turning away from the main compound, he made his way to the clan’s birthing pool, sheltered in a hollow far from casual eyes. Ignoring the inviting scent of the water, he circled the pool to the memorial field beyond. The stones of the stillborn were unmarked, but he had long ago decided which were those of his clutch brothers.
“Tomorrow I go on my quest,” he told the three stones slightly apart from the others. “I know it is a shadow of the great Journey the People are on. Less than a shadow of your journey. But…”
He paused, not sure what to add to that. After a moment’s thought, he pulled a leather pouch from his belt. Transferring his flint and tinder to his tool pouch, he scooped a thick handful of soil from the center of the triangle of memorial stones and filled his fire pouch.
“I’ll bring it back,” he said, “and you’ll see where I’ve been.”
The source was nearing the end of its journey. Soon darkness would come. Already the hollow of the birthing pool was deep in shadow and a chill wind, working its way among the rocks, ruffled the sleek hair of his neck and arms.
“Tomorrow,” Naiar promised again, and turned toward the house.
The yard in front of the