Garden of Embers: Beneath Devouring Eyes #2

Chapter 5, Part B

Valens wondered if it would have been more of a chore to take an alumna at the bratty age of six, as was common, or the bratty age of fifteen, as was now his lot.

As Merula Nocticola strode into his sleeping chamber with the brat in question sulking and dragging his feet behind her, he thought he'd prefer to have a six-year-old. At least a child that age wouldn't be prone to mercurial mood swings that threatened to destabilize global weather patterns with every hormonal outburst.

He dreaded to think what his alumna had been doing the past hour to incite the flares, winds, and rains he'd seen outside the skychamber window. In fact, best to avoid thinking about it at all, given the glances he'd caught now and then between Domi and Radix and, just these past few days, the boy and Sidus.

He hoped that he wouldn't have to be the one to discuss the birds and the bees with the kid.

He slid a hopeful glance toward the bathroom door, but the pattering of water against glass signaled Arbita was still busy with her shower and unavailable to deal with this for him.

Sighing, he eyed his surly alumna and the boy's mother. "What is it, Merula?" he asked, feeling exhausted as he watched the woman reach back and tug her foster son in front of her. His mere hour of sleep had been inadequate, a truth echoed by the dark circles under Domi's own eyes.

The Pyrrhaeus rested her hands atop the boy's slender shoulders. "My son has something he wants to discuss with you, Promerenti." She nudged the glowering kid forward. "I'll just leave you two to talk. I'll be right outside, Domi."

Valens watched as the kid's expression darkened in response to that innocuous statement. He hoped that they were not dragging him into the midst of some petty family squabble.

"Well, what is it, Alumna?" he asked as Merula took her leave, closing the door behind her with a significant look at her son. "We need to get ready. We land in a little less than an hour." And Domi certainly could not disembark wearing a wrinkled tunica and paenula. Not if they were going to pull off having him swap places with a kid who had been playing in palaces since birth.

The boy shifted from one foot to the other, peering at the floor. Then, as Valens was about to snap at him to get on with it, Domi blurted, "What's a hypercane?"

Valens blinked. That was not at all what he'd expected. And how did Domi even know a term like that? It was not like the boy was versed in meteorology. "Where did you hear that word?"

"One of the attendants making coffee said it."

Valens's eyes narrowed. The boy was supposed to have gone to visit Sidus, not mingle with the lower class. "Why were you spending time with-- Oh never mind." This gallivanting around would end once Domi came to reside in the palace, so why bother dealing with it now? "A hypercane is a storm, Alumna. A terrible storm, like many hurricanes put together, that cannot be stopped."

"Can't be stopped at all?" The kid's voice was small. Uncharacteristically meek.

Valens shrugged, studying his student's too-pale face and refusal to meet his eyes. He knew that Domi must be exhausted and overwhelmed--who would not be?--but something about this conversation and the boy's demeanor was filling Valens with unease. "Well," he said, frowning at his alumna, "a Princeps Worldholder can stop one. But there should never be a need. The Trellis prevents catastrophic storms from ever forming, let alone growing so massive."

Domi bit his lip, still staring at the skychariot's purple and gold rug like it was beautiful instead of gaudy. Not that the kid would know the difference. He was sure everything looked glamorous to a boy deprived of so much for so long. "How long does it take for a big hurricane to become a hypercane?"