Luminous

33.5 - Dying Out

After much deliberation, Meya agreed to Coris tagging along to her reunion with her folk. The eavesdroppers and tattlers then left them to their babe-making devices, in favor of their training and duties, but not before Coris had set Simon to fetch a venue for their meeting and reply to Jezia, Christopher to help Sir Bayne exhume and arrange a proper burial for the five fallen Crosset guards, and sworn all to secrecy.

Once the last glob of gruel had been stored in Meya's stomach, reading lessons resumed. Coris led Meya on a tour of his room, pointing out objects for Meya to spell, picking up books for Meya to decipher their titles. Three rounds in, he stood, hands on hips, glancing desperately about him, then admitted defeat.

"I have exhausted my worldly possessions." He hung his head, tapping his foot. Just as Meya was hoping playtime would be in order, he perked up with renewed fire in his eyes. "We'll try something new."

Groaning, Meya slumped to a heap on the carpet. Massaging her calves, she watched as Coris lugged out a gigantic wooden frame with wheeled legs. Strung across the frame was a painting on parchment of what resembled flattened dough, scored into six pieces, with smaller cracks worming here and there, surrounded by a swathe of blue at the bottom and the right, and white on the top and the left. Scattered amid the chaos were dots tiny and large, all with an ornately carved name.

Coris tapped a wooden wand at the square in the corner holding three words.

"What does this say?"

Meya cocked her head, studying the bizarre painting.

"Map of Latakia?"

"You inferred? Or you read?" Coris narrowed his eyes.

"Perhaps milord should've foreseen that problem?" suggested Meya, the picture of innocence with her round, blinking eyes and vacant expression. Her lips twitched, stifling a smirk. Coris swore under his breath.

"Fair," he ruled, then jabbed the end of his stick into his free hand. "I foresee the same problem should I ask you to find Meriton. Find Hadrian."

Meya took his command as invitation to explore. She touched the map, tracing cold black lines of rivers and trade routes, marveled at the ornate compass in the corner, breathed the white paint dabbing the peaks of Neverend Heights ("That's lead white, Meya.") Hadrian would be somewhere in the duchy to the left of Aynor, but she was in no hurry to seek it. Coris didn't hasten her. He spun his stick against his palm as he watched, in addition to tapping his foot.

Having drank her fill, Meya scanned Meriton and pointed to the second dot from the western mountain range. Coris nodded.

"Good. Any familiar names?"

Meya squinted at the dizzying multitude of dots, recalling both her letters and what little she'd heard of her country.

"Well, that there's Amplevale...And Cl...Clar...Oh, Clardarth! Oh, there's Noxx! 'Tis me mother's hometown!" Meya jabbed her finger at the dot, jumping in excitement. Coris allowed himself a smile.

"My mother's as well. She used to be Lady Sylvia of Noxx."

A funny, yet not unpleasant feeling bloomed in Meya's heart as she dragged her finger down the line dividing the duchies Meriton and Hythe. So, their mothers were both Noxxian?

"That's...Truncale. So, this must be Crosset."

"Very good. Let's expand our circle. Find Cristoria, Pearlwater and Westrell."

His challenge took Meya down south towards the sea. She stumbled upon Cristoria halfway between Hadrian and Graye, which sat before the yearning mouth of Galwerth Pass, the other, less traveled route of Nostran invasion. To its right was the capital of Meriton, whence Christopher hailed. At the tip where land meets sea, she located Pearlwater.