Taft closed the small book. He finished this one in record time, after only an hour and a half. It wasn't a very long story; he thought it might take the average reader an hour to get through it.
During the process, he asked for help from Sairia when he didn't recognize a word or phrase. She would explain it to him, and he would continue reading.
"Done," Taft said.
"Good job. Now did you understand what you read? Give me a synopsis," Sairia said.
"There was a village near a river that prospered. Then one day, a great city that was upstream decided to build a dam," he said.
"That's right, go on."
"The river near the village dried up and their crops died. They tried to go to the local lord—I mean, reprant—for help, but the local reprant was a resident of the great city and did not want to help them.
"So the villagers began starving, and some of them moved to the great city, knowing they would die otherwise. But the majority of the village stayed because it was the only home they knew.
"One day, a young boy appeared with a sack thrown over his shoulder. He was a wanderer and always helped those in need along his journey. He saw the plight of the villagers and told them he would help.
"When the villagers looked upon his face, they saw he had blue and green eyes. The next part I didn't quite understand… Supposedly he went to the city and messed with the dam…?"
"Something like that," Sairia said. "He performed a ritual—taught to him by his mother—on the water held by the dam. That ritual was actually him using kovak.
"He touched the water and it started to bubble, sending a strong current into the wall of the dam. He did that every day until…," Sairia said, wanting Taft to finish.
"The water burst from a hole in the dam and the river once again appeared. Then the boy returned to the village and gave the people seeds, showing them where to plant and how to tend.
"The villagers worked tirelessly to restore their village with the help of the wandering boy. Until one day, when the village was fully restored, the boy disappeared. He is said to travel the land in search of anyone in need. Is that right?"
"That's right. I would have included the part where the city never noticed the hole in their dam, because they were living in such excess. Also... the boy performs another ritual to grow plants overnight—kovak again. But other than that, you did very well."
"Agh, sorry," Taft admitted.
"No worries," Sairia said. "Every mistake is a lesson learned."
Taft had been working on his reading and pronunciation for nearly four weeks now. Four whole weeks coming to The Interim; that was hard to believe.
Sairia told him that his pronunciation was almost perfect, and that he only needed a few more lessons in reading before they could move on to writing exercises.
Life in The Heart wasn't so bad, yet he still wished he could go out and explore the world. The stories helped, though. He could imagine what life was like out there, and it kept him engaged in learning Ihmonic.
Taft still preferred this life to Jackson's life. When he was Jackson, he was extremely lonely. He didn't talk much to his family, because they only ended up making him angry.
The only one he wanted to talk to was his dad, but he could only call every now and then because he was always on the road. His dad still hadn't been home after all this time, but Jackson had a feeling he would be back soon. He hoped so, anyway.
At school, Jackson was getting better at avoiding his old friends. There hadn't been any more confrontations, luckily, but he worried it was only a matter of time before something happened. Part of him wished something would happen, so he could fight Beck again and win.
Then there was Ryan. The boy was a little bit annoying. Everytime Jackson wanted to be alone at lunch, Ryan would show up with a grin and sit next to him. They never really talked, except when Ryan would bring up the science project, and then Jackson would try to postpone it to another time.
That science project was actually starting to make him nervous, though. If Jackson didn't do it, he wouldn't pass Science, and then he would have to go to summer school.
"So, in the story," Taft said to Sairia. "The boy with blue and green eyes was half Liamite and half Akarite, correct?"
"That's correct," she said.
"But how could he do all that stuff with kovak if he could only use half of each type?"
"I believe that's part of the message in the story. It shows that someone small and seemingly incapable can actually achieve a lot of good. Some people say the story is complete fiction—precisely for the reason you bring up. A mauvre isn't capable of such feats, they say.
"Others from the region where the story originated say that the story is true. It used to be read to every child here in Rey Oben, but I think it's lost popularity thanks to the puritans."
"The puritans?" Taft asked.
"A group of people that believe that bloodlines should never mix, that everyone should breed within their own clan. They treat the mauvre like filth and sometimes take things a step further than that. They also believe outsiders should stay in their own lands.
"It's a barbaric way of thinking and has led to division and death. Unfortunately, the puritan group has grown, and now most of Rey Oben has adopted that style of thinking. If you ask me, the puritan ideology is a disease, and it's spread to every part of our country.
"I only pray there are still some out there who would fight for unity." Sairia frowned deeply. Her brow was furrowed, and her gaze was distant.
Taft wasn't sure if he should speak. He waited a few seconds and then asked a question. "Is The Council trying to do something about it?"
Sairia met his eyes. "They've tried in the past, but I think they have more urgent matters to attend to now. There's not much they can do either way."
"Can't they make a law against the puritans?"
"Ah, you don't get it, kid. Culture, tradition, and societal norms influence a person's actions far more than any law or government. Scale that up to an entire country and you get a never-ending whirlpool of that influence. It's hard to break free."
"How can you change someone's culture?"
"Whoever has the answer to that," Sairia said, "would rule the world."
Taft frowned. He wasn't sure what to say.
"But enough of that. We should continue studying," she said, then shot a finger at him. "Recite the eight nations."
"Rey Oben, Ep Liam, Ys Akar, Ma Nasan, Sih Myon, Nep Talik, Al Dion, and… Ugh, I know this." Taft thought for several seconds but it wasn't coming to him, it seemed that his ability to retain information was diminishing. His awakening was four weeks ago; maybe his mind was finally starting to dull.
Sairia waited long enough. "Zed Byulen."
"Right, right. Sorry."
"That's alright. Every mistake is a lesson learned."
Taft heard Sairia say that a lot. Every time he apologized for messing up a word or misreading a sentence, she would repeat the same thing. It's not that he found it untrue—he could certainly see the logic in the statement—he just wished she would have something else to say when he screwed up.
The flickering light from the torches stretched to the table. That same light wasn't very easy to read books in; it was distracting. Sometimes Taft and Sairia would go into the garden area to read a small story, but there wasn't anywhere to sit out there.
Despite all those minor inconveniences, the study was going well. Taft had grown in knowledge of the language. Usually he could catch a word or two when it was spoken by a native, but they just spoke so quickly.
"I think you're ready to move on to a harder book," Sairia said. She rummaged through the pile of books on the table, placing some down to reach what was at the bottom. She pulled out a leatherbound book and handed it to Taft.
It was the only book he'd seen with leather binding, and it had a title on the front. Tale of The Ten, was written in Ihmonic on the cover.
Taft examined the book closely before laying it down on the table. He opened it up to the first page. The formatting was already different than what he was used to.
The text was all in the middle of the page with the sides devoid of any writing. It reminded Taft of a poem. He read the first four lines out loud in Ihmonic and realized there was indeed a rhyming scheme.
It was a poem. He read it aloud first to practice his pronunciation.
The Ten apart, The Ten untamed
The Ten unmarked, The Ten unnamed
Though earth they shared, And blood the same
When hearts were bared, Hate overcame
Till from the East, An army rose
Fought like a beast, The Ten they chose
To lead away, Across the land
The Ten did pray, For God his hand
No help arrived, Their sorrow grew
The wish contrived, Would not come true
For slaves they were, And sold as such
To a vile cur, Who paid not much
Their hands he broke, Their backs he flayed
From when they woke, To when they laid
In tragedy, The time had called
For unity, While they were thralled
A plan conceived, A grand escape
The cur deceived, By hood and cape
The Ten were free, Up north they ran
Where they might be, Knew not a man
For years they walked, Past hills and trees
To God they talked, Down on their knees
A host was sent, He stretched his limb
And so they went, To follow him
Across the snow, Across the sea
The host did show, The Ten his key
A word was said, He waved his hand
The mountains fled, Twas his command
In Basin Dry, The Ten did sleep
There came a cry, Like thunder deep
A flash above, The ground did shake
Thus causing of, The Ten to wake
In pitch of dark, The Ten did call
The host might hark, And save them all
No need to fear, Yet they knew not
Twas in The Sphere, The Ten were brought
On this new world, The Sphere came down
The Ten unfurled, And built a town
Once ten years gone, The host appeared
Come with the dawn, The Ten all cheered
Then from the sky, There came a light
The Ten looked high, And lost their sight
But they feared not, For from that beam
New eyes were wrought, They dared not dream
Each of The Ten, Were made anew
And given then, A work to do
To each a name, To each a skill
To each an aim, Which to fulfill
Rey Oben he, The eldest one
Was called to be, The people's sun
Ep Liam king, So filled with pride
Was called to bring, The ocean tide
Ys Akar loose, Like lion cub
The beasts his use, The seed and shrub
Ma Nasan halt, Give up the day
The night exalt, Walk shadow's way
Sih Myon wise, The learned see
To him his prize, Would knowledge be
Nep Talik calm, To smelt he tends
Now in his palm, The metal bends
Al Dion hands, That never stray
When he demands, The hills obey
Zed Byulen brave, When anger spikes
And with a wave, Fierce lightning strikes
Ul Gidd the kind, With heart of gold
To where he signed, The clouds would fold
Ad Shor the mite, though weak and small
Was given right, To guide them all
New world they shared, Together found
Like brothers cared, New works abound
The Ten in heart, The Ten now tamed
The Ten now marked, The Ten now named
Taft flipped to the next page and saw that the book was now written in the format of every other book he read here. It was only the first few pages that were written differently.
"That's enough," Sairia said. "The rest of the pages are just footnotes and insights."
Taft swept his thumb past the pages. "These are just footnotes and insights? But there's so much for one poem."
"It's not a poem. It's a song. The oldest piece of history in The Interim. Passed down from generation to generation. It's been studied and picked apart and theorized up and down. Scholars have tried to decipher the deeper meaning in every line, so they might know more about this world's history."
"It doesn't seem that profound, from what I understood."
"What did you understand?" Sairia asked.
"It seems to be the story of ten people who get captured and then escape and then are taken to The Interim by a stranger, this 'host.' Then each was given a name and kovak. I was a little confused about Ul Gidd and Ad Shor, though. They don't have nations, do they? And what about their kovak?"
"You got the basic gist of the tale. Good job. As for your questions, Ul Gidd does not have a nation, but the descendants are still seen wandering around.
"The Giddites are like a religious sect. They are often on the streets of our capital, trying to get people to hear their message. At one point—during The Imprisoning—many tried to kill them or throw them in jail, but bad luck always seemed to follow, so the Giddites were eventually left alone. As for their kovak, no one knows. Some say their kovak was never passed down and is lost.
"And then there's Ad Shor. That one truly is a mystery. The song suggests he guides the other nine, but no one has ever met a descendant of Ad Shor. There is no Shorite nation.
"Although, some crackpots say that there is a lost city out there that used to belong to the Shorites. So they search and search and never find anything. Other people say Ad Shor never existed; that it was a figurative being meant to signify the bond between The Ten. But that theory doesn't hold much water."
"Whoa, that's crazy," Taft said. He flipped to the footnote about that part of the song. He read for a few minutes trying to piece together what it said about Ad Shor.
Ad Shor being "weak'" and "small" may actually refer to his seed being weak and his clan being small, not necessarily his stature, it read. Taft continued to read, but it didn't seem to mention the theories that Sairia told him about.
"And that part about Rey Oben being the people's sun?" He asked. "Do you think that just refers to our power over fire? To bring heat and light like the sun?"
"I think so," Sairia said. "And the footnotes seem to agree. It's a fascinating song. Some verses are sung by one clan more than others. It took a century to compile into its complete form. I felt like it was good material for you to read, since it uses words you've learned and also describes the history of Dai Ihmon."
"That makes sense, but don't you think it's time I learn a little kovak?" Taft asked, eyebrows raised.
"Don't be so sure. You'll learn kovak eventually, kid. Be patient. I would say that now is a great time… for a break," she said, almost playfully. "Go ahead." She gestured toward the door.
By then Sairia was used to Taft's routine. Whenever it was break time, he would leave his room and go straight to the kitchen for a little snack.
Taft left the room. The sun was bright but on its way down. He expected the lessons would be over in a couple of hours, then he would go back to sleep.
He walked through the garden. There were far fewer flowers than there used to be. The leaves were losing their vibrant green color. All signs pointed to autumn.
Taft swept his hand across the bushes as he walked by. When he stepped into the hallway, he turned and saw Mandiff coming his way.
Mandiff was holding a large leg of poultry. It looked too big to be from a chicken. Maybe a turkey? Maybe some other bird? He gave a large grin when he saw Taft.
"Hello," the large man said, and then proceeded to speak too quickly for Taft to catch any of it.
Based on the man's tone and facial expressions, Taft assumed Mandiff had made some kind of joke. Taft gave an awkward smile and nodded his head.
Mandiff seemed like the "fun uncle" type, despite his rugged appearance. Taft never felt like Mandiff was trying to be mean or rude. He always stopped to say hi and talk for a second.
Unlike Jun, who would talk to Taft for so long, it would use up Taft's entire break time. And so, Taft usually tried to avoid Jun whenever he saw him coming.
Olek never really greeted Taft, only bowed and let him pass. He supposed that was out of respect, but the others didn't do it, so who could say?
Abshak always greeted him warmly and spoke more slowly for him to understand. He was pretty much the only person—besides Sairia—that Taft could communicate with—even if just a little.
Just then, Sallion appeared from around a corner. When the shifty man noticed Mandiff and Taft standing there, he inclined his head slightly and continued walking. He went up the spiral staircase on the other end of the courtyard.
Sallion might be the strangest of them all. More than once, he would stop to talk with Taft only to disappear the second he saw anyone else around. His eyes were always shifting to the left and right like he was expecting the worst to happen.
Taft didn't mind too much, but it still creeped him out.
____________________
Sallion gave a small gesture to Mandiff and Taft, then strode toward the stairs. When would he ever get a chance to speak with the Alma Ni alone? He still had time, thankfully, but he would need to get the information out of the boy eventually.
Sallion shuffled to the door outside his quarters. The Heart always seemed too busy, which was surprising. There could only be so many people in it, yet when they all shared the same small space, it seemed crowded.
Reports of the assassinations made him nervous. The killers must have been Nasanites, but how did they choose their targets? Who would be next? Sallion? He wanted so badly to flee, but first… He would need to move that boy first.
Sallion took out an iron key from his pocket and twisted it in the hole above the latch on his door. He entered his quarters and closed the door behind him. Finally, he could relax.
When he let go, all that remained was the aching behind his eyes. It had crept halfway up his brain by now. He rubbed at his eyes to soothe the pain and walked to his desk.
He still had an important letter to write to his cohorts. He sat in the chair and picked at his papers, but something was wrong.
A confidential letter was left on his desk, opened, a letter opener lying upon it. He would never have left such important intel lying out in the open; he knew the ladies of The Heart came and cleaned often.
Could they have touched something?
No. Someone else had been here. An intruder. A thief.
He checked his other letters that still seemed unopened. He was slightly relieved.
How could someone have entered The Heart? Or was it someone who lived here? Another council member?
Sallion listened closely. He could hear them.
The voices. The whispers.
There were two in particular that seemed to be the loudest. He looked around his room, at the torches flickering on the cold, stone walls.
There was no window in Sallion's quarters, so even in the day it was dark. He looked into one dark corner near the door. A corner where the torchlight could not reach.
He heard them—the voices—as clear as day.
"So it's true," one said. "He's not— Is he… looking—"
Sallion grabbed the large letter opener on his desk and threw it at the dark corner. It bounced against the stone, making a loud clang. The voices dropped to whispers once again.
"I know you're there! How dare you intrude here!" Sallion yelled.
He could no longer hear them. He effectively scared them away, but that was no solution.
Sallion turned back to his desk in desperation and read through the opened letter. Could the intruders have learned something? What were they after? What piece of information could they have gained?
There!
Sallion's face turned pale. The letter confirmed the awakening of the Alma Ni. He needed to move that boy.