Out

Chapter 15

Cerani Encampment, 324 Era Vulgaris, Centennial 25 - Present day

"Antista?" a deep male voice asks, pulling me out of sleep. "I have brought you your morning meal." A metal dish plinks against my wooden table.

"Where is Aron?" I ask, yawning.

"We are celebrating today, Antista," the man says.

"Why is that?"

"Eat your meal, and come and see." The flap of my tent slaps closed and I am alone again.

I do not remember falling asleep, let alone coming back to my tent. Last time I was conscious, Aron was snoring a foot away from me. Speaking of Aron... He is resting. Still, it is strange waking up to someone else's voice. I am not sure who brought me my meal; when we arrived in the camp, there were not any men—Riva said so. Perhaps he did not realize that I cannot see him, but I have not met him anyway, so that would not matter. I pinch the bridge of my nose. The men must have returned from their expedition. I have a feeling that is what we are celebrating today, after the Antista eats her food.

My meals are hearty here in the camp. I have developed a tissue reserve, which helps me maintain my strength all day. I did not know I could be this strong! Today's meal is savory and filled with leafy plants. Eating like a Cerani is strange, but there is no arguing against the results. I have all but recovered from starvation; even my appetite has grown. My worldly appetite is insatiable, however. The more I learn of the world outside of Q, the more I want to explore it. I am jealous of these people who spend their whole lives travelling and living off the land, for which they hold such reverence. They are in tune with every blade of grass and every leafy vein. Even their tents are ingenious. Built to follow the wind currents, they do not move an inch when a strong gust blows. Cerani live their lives as if wind does not exist. That says a lot about their strong will to me. They do not respond to force. I like that.

When I exit my tent, a calloused hand touches my elbow. "Antista, I am sorry for not announcing my presence earlier. I was made aware of the proper way to greet you once I left your tent," the male voice says. It is the man who brought me breakfast.

"All is well," I reply, pulling my arm out of his hand. "What may I call you?"

"Edrus, Antista."

"Edrus. What are we celebrating?" I ask.

"A great conquest. We men have returned with a gift for the one, true Eye," he says.

"And what is that?"

"Let me take you, Antista." Edrus touches my elbow again to guide me forward, so I walk with him. I wish to check on Aron, but I do not know how I will escape this celebration, whatever it is. Being the guest of honor entitles me to zero privacy, and zero opportunities to slip away unnoticed. Aron will have to wait.

"It is a matter of debate between us, Antista, what to do with our conquest." Edrus does not bother to tell me where he has taken me; we are gathered in the place where I saved Aron from a deadly lashing. The air is electric with Cerani anxiety, so I can just make out the shape of a slim man kneeling on the platform. I am relieved; even when he skips a meal, Aron is a mass of muscle, so I know the slim man is not my missing chaperone. He is stock still, and I admire him for it, whoever he is.

"What is this?" I ask Edrus, but he steps away from my elbow, allowing another's hand to close around it.

"I am Neci, Antista," the woman peeps. "Our men have returned with a captive from Arcis. There is disagreement about what to do, so we are entrusting the decision to you."

Entrusting—I must be their diviner and their judge? I cannot decide any man's fate. Though, it is not the responsibility that bothers me the most. I had thought I was free of all involvement in Arcis and I have no wish to align myself with that place again. I stopped missing the city a long time ago, and I doubt I know him, but still: his presence here in my new life is unsettling.