Spirit Walk_ Old Wounds (Book 1) - Christie Golden [39]
“It’s no wonder you wanted to return,” breathed Astall, her hands clasped to her heart and her large eyes alight with wonder.
Fortier turned to them, his eyes searching each of their faces.
“This is why I wanted you to come with us tonight,” he said. “I wanted you to see our home, so that you would understand.”
Already some of the other colonists were venturing down the grassy slopes to the buildings they had called home. Birds twittered in the skies, settling down on trees to sleep for the night, while a baying, yipping noise in the distance indicated that there were others for whom the night was familiar.
Fortier stood with the counselor and the spiritual adviser on the knoll, the fragrant, warm wind tousling his hair. Sekaya noticed that his eyes were moist.
“Thank you for inviting us,” said Sekaya. “This resembles my home.”
“Perhaps one day, after we are well resettled, we can visit your colony,” said Fortier. “It seems we share a great deal.”
Sekaya was pleased. The holodeck re-creation was apparently a good one, if it made Fortier and the colonists so happy. Astall had recommended programming it so the colonists would have a taste of home before they arrived. And, she had shared with Sekaya, so both women could study how the colonists reacted and be able to head off any potential trauma.
But there seemed to be little potential trauma here. Fortier was eager, yet slightly melancholy; such was to be expected. Astall’s ears were up and alert, swiveling as she followed the sounds of conversation. Later, she and Sekaya would try to talk to the colonists one-on-one and get their reactions.
“When my people arrived on Dorvan V,” said Sekaya, “we hosted an elaborate ritual to introduce ourselves to the land. To greet and honor our new home.”
She sat down on the grass and folded her arms over her legs, enjoying the peaceful scene spread out in front of her. After a moment, Fortier joined her.
“We consider ourselves fairly spiritual people, but we do not have an extensive background in ritual,” said Fortier. “It sounds nice.”
She turned to look at him. “We could design one for your return. It might help to integrate those who left with those who remained.”
She deliberately did not give voice to the fear that they all harbored: that the colonists who remained might well be dead. No one knew what these people would be returning to. They might behold the same tranquil, pastoral vista that spread before them now, complete with their loved ones waiting to greet them. They might see total devastation; Loran II might have been the site of a battle during the war. It was simply an unknown.
Privately, Sekaya had spent much time alone in her room with her personal medicine bundle, sinking deep into meditation and planning a ritual for the worst-case scenario. The dead would need to be mourned, if dead there were. She did not mention this alternative plan to Fortier. There would be time enough to present it, gently and with compassion, if the need arose. Much better to have Fortier thinking about a joyful reunion.
Fortier’s gaze was soft, appreciating the re-creation of his home as the day darkened to night. His full lips curved.
“That would be a pleasant thing indeed.” His eyes returned to her, slightly wary. “But we do not follow your path, Sekaya.”
“And I would not design a ritual that did,” Sekaya replied. “This is all about what is important to you and your people, Mr. Fortier.”
“Call me Marius,” he said.
She smiled. “Marius, then. You lived on Loran II for many years. There was plenty of time for you to develop your own unique culture. Tell me what you enjoyed doing there.”
Before Sekaya realized what was going on, Astall was on her feet, moving quickly