The Tellanon

7. Berren's worth

Emyra sat cross-legged on her bed. Her head was resting against the wall, and she was lost in thought. Berren had kissed her. He had kissed her. It had been on the beach, when they had found a giant Calmi, and she had turned at him in delight. She was not sure if she had kissed him back, but she thought so. She remembered the other boys she had liked. She had never kissed any of them. One had pushed her in the Sreme, some had thrown stones at her, others had just been proud of luring a witch into a trap. Emyra was afraid of boys now. Each and every one of them wanted to hurt her, she thought, and they weren't trustworthy. She felt Berren was different, but was very careful still. In her own way, her mother had told her, she was very pretty. Emyra wasn't sure she believed that, but it could still be a reason for Berren to kiss her. Maybe it was just that. Maybe that was all Berren wanted. It didn't seem likely. She knew Berren was the best friend she had ever had, and she knew tales and songs of friendships growing into more.

This world wasn't a song, though. In songs, people didn't have to die for hated rulers in order to claim a country they didn't want. In songs, everyone was a hero. Emyra smiled sadly at that, then the smile broadened. She had decided to trust Berren. She wouldn't be seeing him much, he said. Trainees ought to help plan wars, the Tellanon said, so Berren was to be called upon often. He was a good strategist, apparently. Emyra felt oddly proud at that, the odd way she felt proud of Merrón's beauty. Berren and Emyra had seen a lot of that. She had guided him through Balunnyn, Ruinia and Innluin, through the hill districts and four of the Great Buildings, and he had shown her the Rannuren.

She found those oddly beautiful. They were exotic, with people in strange robes and with strange looks, some dark, some lighter, much more different than the people of the other districts. Everyone looked almost the same there, except for small features that made the difference. Different, that was the right word for the Rannuren. By some great coincidence, it also meant different in the Elder Speech. They could not have known that, no one paid much attention to the names of districts, and especially not the Rannuren. Most of the time, the Rannuren were forgotten, and didn't count as parts of Merrón. They were, and Emyra could see their beauty. The grey stone that they used in the northern land of Unece was seen in its part of the Rannuren. She had never noticed, but it was oddly hypnotic in the sun. The brown mud bricks of Valharis weren't as pretty, but were much cheaper. The houses were supported by wooden beams and climbed up higher into the sky than the average Merrónese building. The buildings from Dal were of wood, and shone. Apart from the Valharian area, that of Dal was the most crowded. Emyra had spotted some Calmi on the necklaces of the people there, and had felt proud of her own collection.

She had given one of them to Lynn, one to Michelle, and one to her mother. When she had tried giving Thomys one, he had tried to swallow it and nearly choked on it, so they decided not to give him one. Thomys had an odd obsession with putting things in his mouth. Emyra's collection of Calmi now counted eighteen, not counting the three she had given away. One of them was blue, a clear darkish blue that reminded Emyra of dusk. She wanted to put it on a necklace. She actually wanted to put them all on a necklace. That would be hard, though. She would have to wrap them in very thin iron and hang them on a strong cord. That was how the people of Dal did it, at least. It looked very pretty, but Emyra didn't have the time. She would improvise, she thought.

Her thoughts wandered back to Berren. She knew nearly everything there was to know about him, except for the secrets he had sworn to keep silent. He knew everything about her, too, as she had given him all her diaries, except for the one she was writing in. He had told her she wrote in an intriguing way, and he really liked her story. She had smiled happily at that, swelling with pride. She obsessed over stories, she wanted to be able to tell her own in a good way, and apparently, she was succeeding.