Jackson's dad made it home last night some time around 3 AM. It had been a month since Jackson had seen his father, and yet he still wasn't allowed to greet him. Jackson's mom told everyone that "Dad needed rest" and that they could greet him after school.
Mark was the most excited, but Jackson felt it, too. Sophie pretended not to care. That confused Jackson.
It wasn't often they got to see their dad, and it wouldn't be long before he had to leave again. He would only stay at home for a couple of days before he went back on the road.
When Jackson finished his breakfast, it was just about time to go to school. He went to his room to grab his backpack and ran out the front door to join the others in the car.
When he hopped in, he saw Sophie was driving today. Jackson's mom was texting in the passenger seat.
"Try not to get us killed," Jackson said dryly.
"Shut up," Sophie shot back as she pulled out of the driveway.
On the way to school, Jackson sat and thought about last night. He read Tale of The Ten, and had done a fairly good job on his pronunciation. He wondered if Sairia wanted him to read the footnotes tonight.
It was getting a little harder to keep his progress consistent. Taft's mind wasn't what it was on day one; he no longer retained the same amount of information. Still, it was better than Jackson's mind.
Jackson was trying his best in school lately—not like before. The absence of friends really made it easier to focus on the boring stuff around him.
The family arrived at Jackson's middle school, which was right next to Mark's elementary school, so both boys stepped out of the car.
Jackson strolled to his building, giving a nonchalant wave goodbye behind him. There were other students being dropped off, but none that he cared to know.
Luckily, Beck was nowhere in sight. Jackson still hadn't confronted him since the last argument in the hall. Thinking about that moment made him cringe. And now Ryan was following Jackson everywhere like they were best buddies or something.
Jackson arrived at his first class of the day. He was early compared to the other students, who were still out in the hall, chatting away. The bell rang and only then did they pile into the classroom.
Jackson kept his head down. He knew at least one of his old friends was in this class, and he didn't want to accidentally make eye contact. He stayed that way until the teacher officially started, then he put his head up and tried to focus.
Homework had gotten easier once he started paying attention in class. The teacher always explained things better than the books. Or rather, the teacher gave better examples of new concepts than the book did.
He still struggled on an assignment or two, but the struggle wasn't anything like it was during his suspension.
After the first two classes of the day, it was time for lunch. Jackson walked alone to the lunch room and got in line for food. The next person to get in line behind him was Ryan.
"Hey Jackson," Ryan said.
"Hey."
That was usually the end of the conversation. Then Jackson would sit down at a table and Ryan would sit next to him. They would pass the rest of lunch in complete silence. But this time Ryan had more to say.
"So, the deadline is coming up on that project. Do you wanna get together after school and work on it?" Ryan asked.
"Uh, yeah, I mean, not today. It's the first time my dad is back from work, and I haven't seen him in a month, so I wanted to, you know, spend time with him."
"Oh, okay. I get it. What does your dad do for work?"
"He's a truck driver."
"Oh, nice. My dad is a logistics coordinator at the docks."
"Cool," Jackson said monotonously.
The two of them walked over to a lunch table and they both sat down. Today the school served egg salad sandwiches and the usual stuff—like chocolate milk, salad, and an apple.
Jackson ate his food quickly, despite not having anywhere else to be. Other students were either talking to each other or else they were on their phones, so they just ended up eating slower than him.
However, thanks to Jackson's phone being broken, he had nothing else to do but eat.
Ryan pulled out his phone. It was a cheap thing—it looked like it was only with him for emergencies—but he still took it out to check his messages or look at the calendar. Jackson suspected Ryan just wasn't sure what else to do and wanted to look busy.
Ryan scrolled to his contacts list. "Er… do you have a phone number, Jackson?" He asked.
"My phone broke, so… not right now," Jackson said.
He could probably have given Ryan the number anyway, but he didn't want to keep giving this kid the idea that they were friends.
Jackson had no friends; that was the point. He wanted to be invisible and get through school as quickly as possible.
"Oh, that sucks," Ryan replied.
They sat in silence again, and it continued that way until the bell rang to end lunch.
Jackson got up and left his tray on the stack.
Ryan followed.
His next class was science, which was Ryan's next class as well, so he knew that Ryan would follow him straight there.
Jackson just tried to ignore him for the rest of the day, which was difficult when in Science class, Mrs. Shilling told them to get in their groups. Then, Jackson had to pretend like he was doing actual work and talk to Ryan about the project.
"I know you're busy today after school," Ryan said. "But do you wanna hang out next week? We can work on the project. Maybe have some snacks…"
Jackson sighed. "Why do you keep trying to be my friend?" He asked. "Don't you remember me? I picked on you before."
Ryan shrugged. "Yeah, but that was before. And you always said it was just for fun."
Jackson cringed, remembering some of the things he'd done. They certainly wouldn't have been fun for Ryan. Why was this kid trying to act so nice?
Ryan continued. "Besides, you stood up for me the other day. You're not the same person as before."
"Well," Jackson said, "Just forget it. Let's focus on the project."
Ryan frowned. "Okay."
. . .
After Science, there was English and then Spanish. After that, the school day was finally over.
Jackson felt relieved. Another day complete. Finally. He waited outside for his family to pick him up. He was always last on his family's route, which, frankly, annoyed him. But he wasn't going to bring it up again; it never got him anywhere.
The ride back went slowly. Everyone wanted to be home already to see Dad. When Sophie pulled into the driveway they all got out.
This time, Mark wasn't the first one to the door. They all went through at the same time, and flung the door open.
Dad was at the table, eating a bowl of leftover chili. He looked up when the door opened and smiled.
"Dad!" Jackson and Mark said in unison. They both ran in for a hug.
"Boys!" Their dad said. "Sophie, you too, get in here."
"Nah, I'm good," she said, walking past them and going to her bedroom.
"Sophie!" Their mom complained, shaking her head. She turned to her husband. "How are you, honey?"
"Better now that I had your world-famous chili."
"You were supposed to be home yesterday before dinner," she said in an irritated tone. "That's why I made it last night. But nooo, you had to come home in the middle of the night."
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I was held up," he said apologetically.
"Well, at least you're here now," she said, giving him another hug.
"And just in time to watch a race for the NASCAR cup! What do you say, boys?"
"Yeah!" Jackson said. "I missed the Daytona 500. I thought you'd be here."
"I'm sorry, Jackson. Next time we'll go in person. How about that?"
"Seriously?" Jackson said incredulously.
"Of course! I have to make it up to you somehow. Besides, it's the only way your mom will let me go, too." He muttered the last part to Jackson.
"I heard that," his mom said.
The rest of the evening passed by quickly. It was the first time in a while that Jackson felt like things were right. They watched the NASCAR cup together—even Mom, though she stayed on her phones the whole time—and had some snacks.
Sophie made a few very brief appearances. She was acting strange. Jackson didn't understand it. He saw his parents give each other looks whenever Sophie walked in.
The hours continued passing faster than Jackson expected, and he was starting to get worried that he was late for The Interim. Surely, Sairia would be okay with that, right?
He decided to stay up another hour, and then his mom finally sent them all to bed as it was a school night. They had their dad back for the weekend, but on Monday he would have to leave again.
Jackson didn't want to think about that as he lay in his bed, looking at the ceiling. It was considerably later than he usually slept, so he would have to be sure to apologize to Sairia when he woke up. He closed his eyes.
_______________
Sairia rubbed at her forearm. The Council meeting was going long thanks to Jun's long-windedness. Well, not all thanks to that. There were plenty of other things The Council had discussed.
She was just wondering when it would be her turn to give her report. Not that she had very much to say; she just wanted this to be over and done with. A twinge in her heart came back, reminding her of something she wanted to forget. She buried the feeling.
"And that's when I told him," Jun said, "that The Council cannot simply make things right with the wave of a hand. Though we have money, there are many allotments to be made. He went on to ask me whether the Farmer's Guild could be made a seat at The Council! I said, 'Good sir, do you think that a seat at The Council is just for anyone?' Alas, he went back to his fellows, furious with me. So, as I was saying, the Farmer's Guild continues to be bothersome and seems to focus on power more than duty."
There was a silence just long enough to be sure Jun was done.
"Thank you, Member Jun," Abshak said, "very thorough report. Member Sallion, you had something to say?"
Sallion put his hand down. "I do, Great Head." He turned his head to address the whole council. "I propose that due to the impending threat of Nasanite assassins, that the Alma Ni—"
"Member Sallion!" Abshak shouted.
Sallion stared wide-eyed, as did most of The Council members.
Abshak continued with his voice raised. "I understand your… passion… about these assassins. I know that they are killing your friends, but you must understand. All of our people are dying.
"Two or three a week die due to these so-called Nasanites. Hundreds a week by the hand of oculists! Does that not concern you? Or how about the thousands a week who die from starvation? Does that not concern you? Because it should!
"It is your responsibility to see that rations are distributed to every soul. Rich or poor. I know that you've been siphoning more food for your 'friends' in the Trader's Guild. Or other rich aristocrats that seem to be getting more than their fair share."
"But Great He—"
"Don't interrupt me, Sallion! I will not tolerate any more of your insolence. You will see to it that all of the goodfolk get their fair share of rations, and you will start today.
"I don't understand this obsession you have about the Nasanites, but I will not stand for it. There are far more pressing matters that must be attended to first. You know that as well as I," Abshak said, dropping his gaze at the end.
Not many had seen this side of Abshak. Sairia herself had only seen it a handful of times.
People would assume that this was Abshak when he was angry. But he only got this way when he was extremely passionate about something. In this case, the lives of his people.
No one could knock him for caring about the goodfolk. If Sallion had really been stealing food for the rich—as Abshak claimed—then this was a completely appropriate response.
The Council was silent. Mandiff was stone-faced with his head up and examining each member in turn. Jun had his head down as if in shame. Olek had a frown you could just make out through his beard.
Abshak was standing, leaning with his hands on the table and his head down. Sallion still looked wide-eyed, with an almost unnoticeable expression of… was that contempt?
"Yes, Great Head," Sallion said, bowing his head and keeping it bowed far longer than was customary.
"Sairia," Abshak said, "anything to report?"
"Only that the training is going well. The Alma Ni is learning quickly to read and speak Ihmonic. We are on track for our goal. In two months—"
"Just a moment, Sairia," Mandiff said. "I know you claim that he is learning quickly, but I have spoken to the boy and it doesn't appear that he understands what is being said. It's been a month already. When can we see this progress you speak of?"
Other members of The Council were nodding their heads—all except Abshak.
"Well," Sairia started, "you've never had to learn a second language, Member Mandiff. It isn't as simple as it seems. We began with reading and pronunciation, but listening and comprehension is an entirely different task.
"It will take some time to get him accustomed to the language completely, but as I said, we are on track for our goal. There's no need to worry."
That seemed to settle them down a bit. Although, Sairia wasn't completely convinced that they believed her. Maybe they were just scared to make any more objections because Abshak showed her favor.
They wouldn't want another outburst; however, Sairia knew that being called out would not elicit another passionate response from Abshak.
"Very well, the meeting is dismissed for today. Members of The Council, complete your duties loyally," Abshak said. "And may your fires be bright," he said almost as an after-thought.
_______________
Taft was finishing his plate when Sairia walked in.
"You're still eating? Taking your time today, huh?" Sairia said, sitting down.
"Look who's talking," Taft said with his mouth full.
"Council meeting went long."
"What did you talk about?"
"Problems. Lots of problems."
"Like what?" Taft asked, still chewing the last bite.
"All kinds of things. Nasanites, oculists, starvation," she said counting them on her fingers. "Not to mention low funds and embezzlement. But I won't bore you with the details.
"It's just powerful men playing with the lives of their subjects, pretending they know what they're doing. Someday you'll have to deal with it, too; but enjoy not being involved while you can."
"Okay. Ignorance is bliss, as they say," Taft said.
Sairia gave him a half smile and nodded in agreement. "I'd forgotten about that saying."
Sometimes Taft forgot that Sairia was from the real world. It made him wonder. "What's it like being away from home for so long?" Taft asked curiously. "How long's it been since you… died?"
"Fourteen years. About nine months before you were born. Remember? You were born because I fell…"
"Oh, right."
"I don't really feel like I'm away from home. This world is my home now. It had always been kind of like my second home, so it wasn't hard to get used to being away from Earth. It was strange to have dreams again, though. Regular dreams. I had forgotten what that was like."
Taft thought about that for a moment. He hadn't noticed it yet, but that was true. He hadn't had a regular dream for nearly a month. Everytime he fell asleep nowadays he woke up right here.
"That's crazy…" he said, still wondering. "How old were you when you fell?"
She paused, thinking—probably about whether or not it was too personal a question. "I was eighteen," she finally said.
"Wow, you were really young. How did you go out?"
This time she gave him an angry look. "We've wasted enough time already. We should get back to studying."
Taft should have guessed that would make Sairia close up again, but it was still too interesting to pass up the opportunity to ask.
He grabbed the book at the top of the pile and began reading aloud. Sairia would correct him when he said something wrong, telling him that a mistake was just a lesson learned. Then at the end of a paragraph, he would go back and translate word for word what it said.
The books were getting more and more difficult, but Taft supposed that was the point of the study plan.
The book he was reading now seemed to describe a group that got lost in the mountains and one person with them was half Liamite. That person used a skill called "Dowse" to find water and save the group from dying of thirst.
It was interesting to see—in stories and histories—how kovak changed and transformed the culture of each clan. While in other ways, things were the same as they were a long time ago on Earth.
Still, there were some huge differences. Such as the underground cities of the clan of Al Dion. He hoped to see those one day.
Taft moved on to yet another book. This one was a bit different. It was about Oben Reyarch, the first king of Rey Oben, back when it was a monarchy.
It detailed that he was fathered by the spirit of Rey Oben, one of The Ten. That was strange. Then Taft saw something even more interesting.
The first Alma Ni, it read.
Taft drew his head back from the book and looked at Sairia. "Hey, whoa! This king was the first Alma Ni? We haven't talked about that before! When did the Alma Ni come into existence? How was he fathered by a spirit?"
"It's about time we talked about that. The book is… well, not exactly false, but it's also not perfectly true. King Oben Reyarch was the first Oben Alma Ni after the discovery. It's believed that the first actual Alma Ni appeared soon after The Ten were named, but it took some time to realize that it was happening.
"It wasn't until the clan of Zed Byulen discovered it. Back then, each clan was starting their own kingdom. It used to be that the clans were united in one nation, but people could no longer see themselves as equals. If eye color wasn't enough to segregate them, kovak was. The Zed Byulen clan was the first to split off.
"One day, the king of Zed Byulen had a son that was still-born. The king was completely devastated and refused a burial. Instead, he kept the child in a room of his castle and visited him daily.
'Soon, he noticed that the boy who was presumed dead was not decaying. What's more, he appeared to be aging. At first the king couldn't believe it and called his servants to confirm. After a few short months, the truth was all too clear.
"The child was alive, but only appeared to be dead.
"They kept the boy in that room, and he was known as a miracle child. Much like us, the boy was marked with a pattern of white hair. A few years later, a woman in the kingdom of Ma Nasan had a still-born child, but she claimed to never have been with a man.
"They thought she was lying, and the people were going to kill her. The laws against women were harsh in Ma Nasan and continue to be to this day. She told her captors that her son was a miracle child, like the son of the king in Zed Byulen. She begged them to wait one month before judging her.
"They agreed because the miracle child was a very big deal at the time, and each clan wanted to have that same miracle. After one month, they saw that the child was not decaying and was—you guessed it—aging. This child became an even bigger deal, because it came from a woman who had never been with a man.
"And so the belief was that the spirit of Ma Nasan was the father of the child. Other clans started searching for still-borns as well, some even dug up child graves and discovered bodies that had grown too big for their caskets. Unfortunately for those children, it was too late; they had fallen before they awakened.
"Over the years, each clan discovered they had one miracle child per generation. After every clan had discovered their own child, it happened. The king of Zed Byulen's son awakened, and that began a whole new discovery.
"The first living Alma Ni.
"A child who appeared dead, continued to grow, yet was asleep, and then one day awakened. Once the child awakened, the people found that the child lacked understanding, so they thought he still had the mind of a babe.
"That belief didn't last for long since they noticed the boy was speaking some kind of language—just not one they recognized. On top of that, the boy's actions proved he was far more intelligent than a baby.
"It was a bizarre phenomenon and each of the clans' miracle children came to be known as Alma Ni—scholars say the term derived from a word meaning 'dreamer'.
"The belief still holds in every clan that the Alma Ni is fathered by the spirit of their clan. That's actually why you were named Oben Taft. Oben is your father's name—Rey Oben. His spirit. And my name is similar—Oben Sairia.
"By the way, the woman who bore a child without ever having been with a man. She wasn't the only one. Others appeared in each and every clan as the decades and centuries went by.
"The Byulenites didn't want to believe it; because they wanted to believe the miracle child was the king's own blood. But eventually, it became clear that the Alma Ni came to be without the aid of mortal men."
Taft saw that Sairia had finished speaking, and his mouth was hanging open by the end of it. "You're kidding," he said, putting his hand against his forehead. "So I'm the son of the spirit of Rey Oben?"
"That's the belief," she said. "The most devout clans worship their ancestor as a god. Though it causes more division, in my opinion. Every time an Alma Ni is born and awakened, they take it as a sign that their god is with them."
Taft nodded. "Yeah, I could tell from some of the books we read that the common belief is that Obenites worship Rey Oben, Akarites worship Ys Akar, and so on. I just wish you'd told me about my 'father' earlier. That's crazy." Taft was still shaking his head in disbelief.
"I apologize. I should have talked about this earlier, but I knew we'd get there eventually," she said. "It's just that the Alma Ni history has become such common knowledge, I forget that you don't know it. But I hope my explanation helps."
"Yeah, it does. Whew, I think I need a break."
"That's fair," Sairia said in acquiescence.
Taft got up from the table and left the room. He was just trying to process what was said. He supposed that it didn't make much difference who fathered him.
I mean, it may not even be what the people thought. There could be a scientific explanation, after all.
He brushed his hands through the garden bushes as he usually did on his walks. He walked into the corridor and sauntered toward the kitchen. A sweet roll was sure to get him back in the mood to keep studying.
Taft could smell them before he even arrived. As he approached the door to the kitchen, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He jumped and looked in the direction of the movement.
There was nothing there.
He was staring at the end of the corridor. It was a deeper end of the corridor, shaded by the sun. He kept walking, but warily now. As he got closer to the kitchen, he saw the shadow move.
The shadow moved.
This time, when Taft stopped, the shadow kept creeping forward. It inched closer and closer to him.
Taft was so surprised, it didn't even occur to him to run away. The darkness crept onward like a thick tendril sliding across the ground.
Taft started backing away in a panic, but the darkness sped up. It was right under his feet now.
Taft felt like the ground disappeared suddenly. He fell through the floor, into darkness.