The Hidden Orphan (The Chronicles of Mistar - Book 2)

Seventeen · · · Dusk (.2)

He started to read aloud again, able to understand what he was reading if he could hear it through his ears. "... us Opists always made such dealings with other planets in our history's early life. They were only to gain ground of course and build up our society until we no longer needed their help. Until we no longer needed the Council. We stayed there so we could stop other planets from trying to cross our atmosphere. We wanted peace, loneliness. It was as if we were a teenage girl that wanted solitude to do her own thing. While most planets, such as Tries, were coming out of hiding, Opa had emerged itself into it. Soon, our dealings broke, all except for one.

"First, Tries was our first provider. They gave us food while we gave them cotton. Potu cotton to be in fact. The softest cotton in our universe and made for clothes along with constant metal fabric. We had our own mines so we never had dealings with Mistar, rumoring that we stole a stick of maron root to create our own field of the yummy food. Or, most likely, it grows on Opa too, though I wouldn't doubt our stealing. Trickiness runs in the royal family tree line here on Opa.

"Second," Dusk cleared his throat before continuing, "we traded with Malonda. They had the most precious herb on the planet, their soil having the only right to bear the tanala herb. We traded so much with them, mostly making the plant extinct, threatening to stop the trade if our king kept asking for the same amount every shipment: 14, 237 lbs.

"Third, we traded with the other planets of Mistar, Lotna and Rol, but not significant amounts of anything special. We only took their food and stocked up on what we needed to survive. We traded until we no longer needed.

"Lastly, we had Pezda dealings and holdings. Both countries: Pent and Casta. They both wanted what Opa had and so we gave it to them. Over the births, we lost contact with Casta since they no longer needed what we had, having enough of their own cotton growing on their land. Pent, though, was a different story. They no longer needed what we had and we no longer needed what they had, but we traded weapons. Opa made arrangements. Pent made arrangements and quickly became fast friends. The government told the public none of this information. They withheld it.

"I believe this is the only way people will ever hear it, reading my book before it burns. We live in a dictatorship! Not just under our ugly kings and their kids underneath them, but under the Pent too! They're the ones who lend our armies their superpowered weapons. Blue lights and shiny silver! Let them bleed-"

A squeak of a shoe made Dusk jump. He looked up, snapping the book shut. He felt wrong reading it, its words going against everything he was taught, but he needed to know. He needed to know the truth.

When Dusk opened the page again a familiar hand put her spindly little fingers over the pages. Looking up, he saw Crystal's pitch-black eyes. He was sure he saw a speck of blue in each. Both of her eyes were bloodshot, red from crying with Butch over Pike's death, but she smiled anyway. Dusk could tell it wasn't real, but he grinned all the same.

"Don't you have your own library?" she asked, taking the book right out from under Dusk's hands.

Dusk nodded. "Yes, but I don't get the silence there as I do here."

Propping the book in her arm, Crystal flipped through the pages, obviously not reading a single one of them. "Oh. Is this a good book?" Crys then closed the book to look at the cover. "Politics of an Opist by Zarich Taylon. Sounds like government," she said, squinting her eyes.

Dusk jumped again when Crys dropped the book back on the desk. It echoed throughout the library, letting off a chorus of shhs from angry customers and readers.

"Crys, be quiet," Dusk ordered under his breath.

"I know I should," she snapped, pulling out a chair to sit across from him, "but I don't feel like it."