Chapter 22
“I must speak with Aaric,” Thomas Alden said as he led Clara and Raven down the town hall steps. “Clara, do you think you could lead Raven and your other teammate back to Mother Alden's? It's not far. Unfortunately, I don't have any extra horses ...”
“That's alright,” Clara said as she saw Raven stiffen at the mention of horses. “I'm sure they'd rather walk.”
“Yes, that would be better,” Raven quickly confirmed. “Do you see Darian?”
At that moment, there was a loud whoop from the crowd. Thomas and the two interns turned to find Darian whirling in a circle atop a wooden table with his drink in his hand.
“Great,” Raven huffed. “As if we didn't have enough problems.”
Clara cringed.
Thomas Alden cleared his throat. “Why don't you both head on to Mother Alden's? I'll send your friend along soon.”
“Thanks,” Clara said. “And sorry about ...”
“You need only apologize for your own actions.” Thomas Alden said, holding up a hand. “Fret not, Clara.”
CRASH!
Chairs clattered and ceramic shattered as Darian fell off the table, still laughing.
Clara put her head in her hands while Raven rolled her eyes.
“You two go on,” Thomas Alden urged. “We'll take care of your teammate.”
“Thanks.” Clara's cheeks burned as she guided Raven through the crowd to the dirt road leading to Mother Alden's.
Had circumstances been different – had Raven not looked so despairing – Clara would have pointed out the electric fences (now harmless in Elpis light) guarding the verdant fields of green-leaved crops, multicolored flowers, and cattle grazing on three-dimensional grass. But as she observed Raven's hunched shoulders and pained expression, she knew her friend would be blind to such things. She considered asking Raven how she was feeling, but Clara already knew; her aching loss had broken her the day before. And frankly, Raven was handling herself much better than Clara had. So she lamely walked astride her friend in silence, hoping her familiar presence might be of some small comfort.
After following the dirt path for about a mile, Clara pointed to the approaching house with its white picket fence, rose-studded arch, and gingerbread-trimmed gables. “There's Mother Alden's house.”
Raven nodded without looking and followed Clara up the steps to the front porch. Clara knocked on the sage green door.
Alisa opened it. “Clara! Come in.”
Clara stepped over the threshold with Raven a few feet behind. Inside, it smelled of gingerbread and the tea kettle hummed merrily on the stove.
“Thanks for helping everyone,” Clara said. She gestured to her best friend. “Alisa, this is Raven Ulric, daughter of Sunil and Fatima Ulric. Raven, this is my mentor's granddaughter, Alisa, daughter of Thomas and sister to Aaric.”
Raven extended her hand to the Almitian woman and managed a polite smile. “I'm number ...” she shook her head. “It doesn't matter. Thank you for helping the others.”
“You are most welcome.” Alisa smiled. “Technically, I am Alisa Alden Steward, wife of Peter Steward. Pleased to meet you.” She then reached out and enveloped Raven's hand with both her own. “I'm terribly sorry for your loss,” she said sincerely.
Raven's smile faltered. “Th-thank you.” She withdrew her hand.
“Where are the others?” Clara asked Alisa as she shut the front door.
“Your ginger friend said he wanted to be alone, so I put him in Mother Alden's guest room. The young lady asked to see Mother Alden's study, but I doubt our old star charts will help her find any Earth-bound wormholes. Agilis will have the most up-to-date calculations.”
“Where is your son, Henry?”
Alisa smiled. “I left him at home with Peter so he could teach him how to pull weeds till I got back. Hold on a moment.” She walked to the stove top where the kettle was shrieking like a banshee. “I wasn't sure if anyone felt like eating, but I made a ginger cake, and there's a bowl of nuts and fruit on the island.” She started making a pot of tea while Raven wandered to the living room window and stared outside.
“Thank you, Alisa,” Clara said. “If you'd like to return home, I think we should be alright by ourselves.”
“You sure?” The Almitian looked up from the tea pot.
“Yes. Thanks for everything.”
“You're most welcome.” Alisa headed for the door. “Keep your chin up, Clara.”
Clara finished the tea and set a tray of steaming mugs on the living room coffee table. “Any sign of Darian?” she asked as she offered a hot drink to Raven.
Raven still stood staring out the window. “Hmm?” She turned. “What did you say?”
“I asked whether you saw anyone coming down the path.”
“Oh. Not yet.” She accepted the tea, took a sip, then turned back toward the window.
“You don't have to stand guard,” Clara said. “We're safe here. You can rest if you like.”
“I'll not rest here,” Raven muttered. “I prefer to stand. It gives me … perspective.” She took another sip.
Clara couldn't think of anything else to say, so she took the tea-laden tray down the hall in search of Aliyah. She found her bent over a series of star charts laid out on Mother Alden's wooden desk. “Aliyah?”
The startled intern looked up. “Clara! When did you get here?”
“I walked over with Raven. Darian should be coming soon. He had a little mishap drinking in town.”
“Big surprise,” Aliyah acknowledged with a frown.
Clara was going to set the tray on the table, but the charts covered every square inch of the desk. So she offered the tray to her teammate. “Would you like some tea?”
“Um … okay.” Aliyah selected a mug and drew it to her lips, but she did not seem to taste it. She placed the mug on a bookshelf and bent over the charts again.
“Find anything?” Clara asked as she glanced at the dark blue paper sprinkled with a labyrinth of stars and dotted orbits.
Aliyah's mouth twitched. “No. I don't know any of these star systems. But I think these fuzzy blue things are wormholes,” she pointed to the top chart. “I just don't understand these dates. They're all in revolutions.”
Clara adjusted the tray in her hands. “Alisa suggested we find an expert in Agilis to help.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Aliyah straightened. “Let's go back to the city!”
“We can't,” Clara said. “Not yet.”
“Why the heck not?!”
“It's complicated ...” Even without Aliyah's mug, the tea tray felt heavy in Clara's hands.
“Then give me the synopsis.” Aliyah crossed her arms.
Clara sighed. “Okay. Basically, Almitas and Silex are on the brink of war. The Almitian Eldership has asked Raven and I to help avert it.”
“How? And why you?” Aliyah put her hands on her hips. “This isn't our planet!”
“Actually, it is our planet for now, Aliyah. A war would affect us all.”
“So, how do they expect two strangers to help?”Aliyah eyed Clara skeptically.
Clara readjusted her grip on the tea tray again. “Hopefully by realigning the balance of power back in Agilis.”
“You're gonna kill someone?!” Aliyah's eyes widened.
“No!” Clara said. “Nothing like that. We're just going to sedate someone, neutralize their advantage, and hopefully convince the Grand Assembly to reassert themselves according to their original charter. But until things play out, we can't travel freely between Almitas and Agilis.”
“So we're prisoners again?!”
Clara pursed her lips. This conversation isn't going as I'd hoped … and this tea is getting cold! “We're not under house arrest, Aliyah. You can go where you like in Almitas.”
“But if you and Raven are going back to the city, why can't I join you? Won't it look weird if five interns left Agilis but only two return?”
Clara hadn't thought of this. Certainly having all the interns return together would be less conspicuous. Again, she fumbled with the tea tray. “I can ask – though Darian might not be in the best state to validate to our 'business-as-usual' cover.”
“Fine! Whatever,” Aliyah huffed and bent over the star charts again. “You do what you want with the locals, Clara. But I'm getting off this rock ASAP!”
Clara again found herself at a loss for words – it was becoming a habit. She let herself out of the study and went to Mother Alden's guest room at the end of the hallway. “Tristan,” she called through the door, “You alright? It's Clara. I made some tea. Want some?”
No answer.
Clara balanced the tea tray on one hand and knocked. “Tristan?”
Silence.
Then a foreboding thought.
She knocked harder. “Tristan, are you okay?” She turned the knob and let herself into the room. The guest bed stood perfectly made and untouched. But the door to the guest bathroom stood ajar, revealing Tristan's pale hand dangling over the white tub. Clara took two more steps, then dropped the tea tray to the floor with a crash.
The water was crimson.
Clara screamed.
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So sad....