Isn't this exciting? 8D
I could tell from the PMs I've received over my hiatus that this installment was much anticipated – especially by a certain someone who guessed my greatest secret! The clues are cleverly hidden throughout the last three books, and I had almost hoped someone would be sharp enough to spot them and put them together. Good eyes, my friend. ;D
This one, not unlike DQ, is a lot darker and terrible than the previous ones. The Garaseds are trying to start a war, after all. And that's exactly what we will all get before the end. Spoilers: it's not pretty and this book will not end well one bit at all.
But more of that later. First, some lighthearted fun-times.
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Chapter 1: The Library
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It was another warm, sticky summer in Habaharan City. As Star strolled through Southside with a few books tucked under her arm, she took the time to gaze around the streets she had come to know so well. The worn but sturdy homes stood in their neatly packed rows, the same as always. Bees and butterflies flitted around potted flowers and trees outside of doors. Cats with mottled coats napped lazily in windowsills, enjoying the sunshine on their backs.
Marked, friendly faces stopped to smile and wave as she passed, and she stopped to smile and wave back at each one. Now and again, those smiles would come with a knowing wink, for all the common folk of Southside now knew perfectly well who she was, where she was going, and what she was up to. If Star knew the person well enough, she would return the gesture with a grin; otherwise, she simply smiled back in her kind, hopeful way to show that she had seen and understood.
This was normal for Star now. If she had been in her homeland, though, she supposed she would have felt the same sense of content familiarity, as she had walked down streets and past buildings she had known all her life, on her way to the house of books. It was summertime in Rin, too, after all. The part of the world which more and more Zebak folk were calling the Arin lands would be gloriously colored by now. The flowers on the orchard trees would be changing to fruit in the shade of green leaves. The fields would be full of golden crops, shining in the sunlight. The stream that fed their land would be flashing blue and white in the midday sun. The great, gentle bukshah would be like large spots of gray in the distance – all but the one black member of the herd, of course. And hovering over it all would be the expanse of the mountain, home of the Dragon Finlair, Lord of Earth: all gray and brown, but for its icy white peak.
The image of her homeland swam before Star's eyes, and she enjoyed it as she walked. Not as a fond memory of home, though, but simply as a nice idea to look at in her mind. As if it were perhaps a well-drawn picture in a book she had read, about some foreign land which she might like to visit one day. She had been born in Rin and lived most of her life there, but it no longer felt like home to her. More and more of its details had slipped from her mind, as the details of her current life had replaced them. She couldn't quite picture the streets or the buildings that lined them anymore, nor the names and faces of the people who lived and worked in them.
Her father would have been appalled to learn that she couldn't remember the names of any of the bukshah – with the obvious exception of Treasure, the black one, who everyone remembered. The beasts had raised her nearly as much as her own family. Star even thought that once, when she had been very little, one of them had spoken to her and she had understood. Perhaps she had, perhaps she hadn't. Even then, she hadn't remembered what that one beast had been trying to say. She used to wonder about it often and if it had been a dream. The idea used to delight her. Thinking of it now, she found it hard to care very much about it. That saddened her slightly, but she felt no shame.
She smiled to herself as she recalled one or two places she could still picture perfectly, down to the last detail. Her father's house and its yard with its tree. The bakery where her godfather worked. The orchard and its dreamy afternoon shade, every tree in its place and so familiar, so quiet and peaceful. The way from her front step to the house of books, and then the house of books itself and every shelf and tome within. She was sure that she could still walk that whole way blindfolded, or in her sleep, without getting lost.
Which was funny, she thought as she entered the Southside library. All this time later, she had come to know another, much larger building full of books just as well. In fact, she thought with a swell of pride, she had added to its collection. Such a thing never would have done in Rin, no matter how well-written or true her work was, because she was still a child. Happily for her, the Zebak thought differently about many things.
Like everything else, the library was as she always found it. And the first thing she saw was the elderly librarian, as it always was. The weathered old woman was fussily organizing some books at the front counter, and looked up without surprise to see who had interrupted her work. She set those books aside with a shrug, took up her cane, and hobbled around the counter with an air of great independence.
"Such fine summer weather we are having," she said, slowly and clearly, in spite of her cracked voice and thick accent.
Star smiled and nodded politely. "It is, unless you are stung by a bee," she answered.
The old woman grinned and shook her head, beckoning for Star to come with her. "Bah, all this riddles nonsense," she scoffed, much more herself. "I know who my Mahna is, every day. Come, come. Na'ad'attase't, they are waiting for you."
By which Star had come to learn she meant her grandsons, who printed books in the basement below the library. Star followed her patiently, as the woman took her time walking.
"I know you dislike having to use codes, Porii," she said kindly, "but Zamiel insists on it. It is how rebels know each other around the city. If we recognize each other, we can trust each other."
"Bah," Porii scoffed again, more irritated this time as she led Star down a flight of stairs. "All us are rebels these days. I know my rebels anywhere. I not need riddles. I know my Mahna. She is my abissi – little fighting bee spirit, every day. I not need riddles."
Star could appreciate Porii's view on the riddles and codes that now secretly ran the lives of Southside's people. There were new ones every few weeks, for nearly everything that the people might do – from buying and selling goods, to greeting one another in the street, to welcoming guests into their homes. Many others found such secrecy tedious, even aggravating, in spite of its necessity. It was simple, really. If a greeting was not exchanged in the agreed upon way, one person was clearly not a rebel, perhaps an agent of the queen who was seeking them so viciously, and so not to be trusted with news and idle talk.
But such a password became too obvious to outsiders before too long, which was why they were changed so often. It was, in large part, why Star had come to see Porii's grandsons, who also printed a local newspaper.
"Porii, I'm curious," Star said to her. "You and everyone else around knows who I really am. Star is my real name, and my parents chose it for me with great purpose, as you also know. So I must go by Mahna in public, and really don't mind that; but you can feel free to call me Star when we are alone."
Porii scoffed yet again. "Mahna. Star. Is all the same."
"Yes, I know they mean the same thing, but I like my name. And many people do the same, forgetting to call me by it in private. Sometimes I almost wish that you and other people would call me Star, for a change."
Porii turned on the step below her and banged her cane against it for emphasis. "I am old woman," she proclaimed proudly. "I live long time – many years. I am great-grandma! Why I need learn two name, when have one girl? Is all the same."
With that, she banged her cane once more to show that her point had been made, and that it wouldn't do to continue arguing with her. Then she turned back to the stairs, carefully going one step at a time, muttering to herself in her own language with each one. Star recognized a few simple words – ipe, hip; lantha, back; ishk, misfortune; orse, pain. She skipped down a step and tried to take Porii's arm to help her, but was brushed fiercely away.
"Ane, ane, I do myself, Mahna. I not baby," she insisted.
Star understood and stood back, leaving the woman her space. Frail as she seemed, Porii was tougher and stronger than her age, and disliked people helping her about. In fact, she reminded Star of Sheba, her granny, who had passed away the previous year and presumably refused a helping hand to her last breath. Star couldn't help smiling faintly at the idea. She didn't miss much of her homeland; but her granny was one part of it she missed the most.
At the bottom of the stairs was a single plain door with a sliding eye slot, which Star knew was heavily bolted from the other side. As she and Porii finally approached it, gentle, muffled music could be herd playing beyond. Porii made a face and lifted her cane to knock on the door.
"They play that noise again," she complained to Star. "Keep the neighbors up at night. Bring guards to search us. Maybe we die soon. Ishk, ishk!"
The slot in the door slid open, and a pair of pale eyes like Star's peered out. Seeing who it was, a smile appeared in those eyes, and they heard the bolt unlocking. When the door opened, a strapping young man several years older than her ushered them inside.
"You're back," he commented. "Is it that time already?"
"It would seem so, Spencer," Star agreed, stepping into the basement. "Zamiel has switched it up a bit, too. People have apparently gotten bored with only two passphrases to choose from, so he's come up with four this time. I understand that he was up late a few nights with Zaneth and Zane figuring them out."
Spencer rubbed his hands together in delight. "Excellent! Variety is the spice of life, I've always said. That's why I love working with books, you know?"
Star couldn't help grinning. "I do know. I love that about books, too."
Spencer grinned back, then looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Seth! Stop the presses! Star's here with the new codes!"
"Done and done," his older brother called back, hidden behind one of the massive presses that filled the basement. There were four in all, contraptions of steel and wood that could print perfectly identical copies of the same page all at the same time. It had taken the brothers time and careful saving to acquire all of them, and each was slightly different in small ways from the others. But they all worked to the same end, which Seth had once commented was all that mattered.
The brothers were some of the first in the city to see Star's greatest written work, carried by happy chance all the way from her homeland. Not realizing at first that the tales within were completely true, they had insisted on printing and binding the first hundred copies of it to share with their friends and families. Those people had gone on to want to share with their friends and families, who had then wanted to do the same. So many people had wanted to read it, every printing press in the city had done nothing but print that one book for days.
And so, faster than Star had ever dreamed possible, Rowan of Rin had gone from a single hand-written notebook to thousands of perfect, published copies in the space of a month.
She still refused to openly accept the credit for her work, because the queen was still searching for the author and certainly had something terrible in store for that person. All the same, she was now quite famous, and she only had Seth and Spencer to thank for it.
The brothers' time was mostly spent on their modest newspaper operation. It remained mainly in their own part of Southside, though they had people who carried it farther. It was full of local news, topics of interest, a few columns by other writers in the neighborhood, and announcements and advertisements. It was identical in most ways to any other paper printed in the city. The only difference was that their paper was now peppered with Zamiel's codes, riddles, and passwords, cleverly disguised within headlines and articles.
To the untrained eye, these hidden messages were invisible. To those who were familiar with the so-called Doric code, however, they were easy enough to find. And by now, most of Southside's commoners had been taught to use it. It was almost pitifully easy to decode, once one knew the trick to it; but figuring it out without help was not so simple. It was just like Zamiel Garased to use it so lovingly.
While the two brothers tended to the presses, Star wandered over to a nearby workbench, the source of the gentle music she had heard from behind the door. On the bench stood a wooden box, decorated with dials and knobs and patterned mesh screens. She smiled at the music humming from within it, and looked over at Seth.
"They've played this one a lot recently," she commented. "Do you mind if I turn it up a bit?"
Seth looked up at her curiously. "Oh, the radio? Go ahead. Spencer and I have been dancing around the basement all morning as it is. You won't be bothering anyone – say for eb'ati, that is."
At the mention of it, Porii scowled at the radio and smacked her cane angrily on the workbench. "All that noise – ishk!" she hissed, brushing herself as if to shake off an illness. "They hear and see all in these box, all 'round the city. They hear and find us. Maybe we die soon."
"Eb'ati, that's not how it works, we've told you a dozen times," Spencer explained in a gentle voice, sounding very much like he had said it time and time again. "Sound can only come out of the radio. No one is using it to spy on us."
Unconvinced, Porii continued to glare in contempt at the humming box. "The queen, she have all her spies in all places. She spy on you. She find you! Maybe we die soon." And, wanting no more to do with it, she turned away and hobbled out of the basement to toil back up the stairs without help, muttering all the way in her own language. None of the young people she loved bothered trying to help her, for they all knew by now that she would scold only them for it.
Once she had gone, Star turned one of the radio's knobs and the music grew a little louder. Leaving her things beside it and bringing only one book along, she couldn't help dancing a bit across the room to Seth's side. Seeing this, he couldn't seem to help dancing right along to meet her.
"Fascinating device, the radio," he commented. "It's only been a few months since they introduced it, but I think it's really had an impression on our work, no matter how our poor grandmother feels about it. I wonder how they do it?"
Star laughed. "You mean how the radios work? Oh, squadron C-57 and all their people knew about that long before they were given to the public," she said, pulling a hidden note from the pages of her book. "Rita, one of their members, is married to a man who works for the palace researchers; he signs papers and patents for the machines they create. And if these things are deemed worthy enough, the queen allows the public to have them. So, when he heard that the radio was 'going live' – as he put it – Korus went home and chatted about it with his wife, who immediately told her squad, who immediately told the rest of us. Oh, but that was months ago, back before my birthday, even."
Seth look amazed as he took the note, and Spencer came over to listen. "So you know how they work? You have to tell us, Star! Seth and I have been puzzling over it for weeks! I can't believe you knew of it the whole time and never told us," he complained.
"Well, I don't exactly understand it, myself," Star answered with a shrug. "It's all a deal to do with air stones and some sort of frequency, and magic, I think. It's funny. I used to think it was deep magic like what I've always known, just by another name, because the palace researchers didn't know it for what it was. Now I think that they may be two totally different things, but working together. As if these frequencies were a sort of part of deep magic that I've never known of. Like, maybe it was woven into the magic somehow, and only now we can see it, and study it and learn how to use it like this."
The brothers continued to smile politely, though they had begun to look confused.
"I'm afraid you've lost us, Star," Spencer said in his gentle way.
"It's alright, I was babbling more to myself than actually speaking sensibly," she answered, waving their confusion away. "If you really want to know more about it, come to the next meeting and ask Zan and Zak about it. I have no head for all this new technology, but they live for it. My cousin Leah seems to be enjoying it all, too."
"Huh. That's Forley's sister, right?" Seth asked absently as he looked over the list of codes. "Why is that, do you think?"
"It's something for her to do, I suppose. It isn't like she can be of much use to the rebellion from her hiding place, so she spends all her time reading whatever we can find for her. She'll read nearly anything to pass the time; but Zan keeps bringing her his textbooks on magicites and the wonders they can make possible, so while she's never tried her hand at anything technical, she knows quite a lot about it."
Spencer laughed shortly at the idea, as he began fitting iron stamps into one of the presses. "I bet the two of them have a lot of really boring conversations."
Star shook her head. "No, she has all of those with Zak. Zan, as it turns out, has an appetite for poetry recently. I'm going to check out a new collection before I leave here today, and in return he will let me copy more of his notes into a fresh book."
"You keep mentioning this fresh book of all his ideas. Any idea when it might be finished? Seth and I are dying to have it print-worthy, already."
"Oh, the new book is filling up nicely, and is legible and organized and everything. But I'm afraid it won't do to let Central Control get a hold of such good ideas. Zan will be punished for having them in the first place; and they will be taken and used anyway, against other countries to destroy and conquer them. My father's people won't stand a chance against the things Zan has designed. I fear our neighbors to the south will fare little better. These plans can't be published until things are…. Safer."
Humbled by this idea, the brothers cleared their throats nervously and looked over the new codes with renewed interest. All at once, Seth chuckled to himself, and the tension in the room was suddenly gone.
"Well, if its poetry you want today, I know just the book you should check out," he said brightly. "It's old stuff – classic, very romantic. You can't go wrong with that."
Star smiled back at him. "That does sound more like it," she agreed. "I believe Zan will want to hold onto it for a few days, but I will check it out on his behalf. I trust him well enough to return it in good shape."
"You had better," Seth answered dryly. "You make so little, you can't afford to replace one of our books, let alone an antique. But I have faith in you, Star. If you were untrustworthy with the books you borrow, your fines alone could have bought us a new press by now."
"Oh, I don't know about that," Star laughed. "A whole new press? They must cost a lot more than that."
"Not as much as you might think, my dear," Spencer laughed back, planting his fists proudly on his hips. "At least, not when you know where to look and how to buy them. How do you think we got our hands on these four?"
Star gazed with new sight over the presses, and her mouth fell open a bit. "You run the presses on the library's late fees and fines?"
Seth shrugged. "Those fees are just extra income, but it's free money to be set aside. To have our own things returned to us in one piece, it's no sin to charge a fine for people's carelessness. And believe me, people are more careless than you would hope."
Star shook her head in wonder, covering her gaping mouth with her hand as she thought suddenly of the place she had come from. "If that many people returned that many books that late in Rin, Violet wouldn't let people borrow them anymore. And if someone lost or destroyed one of them…"
"Ah, right, books are precious in your homeland," Seth recalled. "They are all handwritten, one-of-a-kind, and you have no presses to replace them quickly. I can see how a librarian might be upset if one of your books was in danger."
"Have they ever had problems with people returning books?" Spencer asked, suddenly curious and filled with questions. "Do they charge fines as we do, or…? Surely it must be very different."
"It is," Star agreed. "Actually, very few books are removed from the building; so few, there isn't even a pass required to take them. It just happens so rarely; so when it does happen, Violet and her sons can easily remember who has which book, and know where to find it."
Spencer laughed sharply. "How does she know if someone is smuggling the books out under her nose?"
Star pinned him with a look. "Believe me, she knows. When I was little, I tried doing that very thing. For some reason, I thought then that I wasn't allowed to take them and would be in trouble if I did. But my jacket then had pockets on the inside, so I tucked a little picture book into it and tried to sneak off with it. I'm still not sure how Violet knew it was in my pocket – she wasn't around to see or hear me do it, and my parents hadn't noticed, either. Still, she knew somehow, and called me out at once. It remains one of the most dishonest things I've ever done."
Looking a bit astounded, the brothers nodded their heads with great respect. "Eb'ati was always like that," Seth commented. "It was like she had an extra sense, alerting her to when one of her books was in trouble. I find that I've grown a similar sense, myself. It all comes from a lifetime spent in a trade you know and love, I suppose."
And then, remembering something, Spencer snapped his fingers suddenly. "That one boy you used to complain about, he was the librarian's son, wasn't he?"
Star rolled her eyes, hating to be reminded. "Oh, Luke. Right. I remember less and less of my growing up, but I'll never be able to escape him, it seems. Everyone wants to hear about him and how he used to bully me. I don't understand why."
"I was just asking," Spencer said with a shrug.
"But," his older brother cut in quickly, "we can see all the reasons you might want to forget about him. The lad sounds like an oaf and a half, to be sure. And you believe he used to fancy you? You, a brilliant and lovely young lady with a head full of ideas? No wonder! But you have your Zan now, and I should think he suits you much better."
Feeling cheered by all this, Star smiled. "I've never been happier in my life until recently. Having Zan instead of Luke is certainly part of it," she agreed.
Seth smiled back. "That young man adores you, and make no mistake. It's a good trade, if you ask me, though I suppose you don't really have to."
"No, I don't," she replied smartly. "I'm rather fond of him, myself."
Spencer looked off into space, thinking for a moment, and then whistled to himself. "One of Central Control's perfect super soldiers, and the child of a Titan. Imagine the children. Just think of it!"
Seth smacked the younger man's head, grumbling that his lack of tact was embarrassing, and that their mother would have been furious to hear him speaking like that. Star found that she was blushing terribly; although, she silently agreed that the idea was certainly something to think about.
"It's a bit early to be talking like that," she mused. "I'm not of age until next spring, for one thing. And for another… Well, there's still a war to be fought and won. If we win it—no, when we win it—then perhaps we can revisit that."
The brothers stopped their quarreling and looked at her in amazement.
"I was only half kidding, you know," said Spencer. "If we do win the war and all we hope for comes true, you will be able to return to the Arin lands with the rest of your family. Don't you want to go home, after all this time?"
Star hesitated. So far, whenever it was brought up, she had artfully skirted around having to speak her own mind. Since bringing her father's source of power to Habaharan and acquiring it for herself, she found herself unable to speak anything but the truth. And for her family, who wanted nothing more than to return to their homeland, she knew that the truth would be hurtful to them.
However, it occurred to her that her family was several blocks away, and not there to be hurt by that truth. And so, for the first time, she spoke her mind out loud.
"I love this city and it's people, and I love serving them. They allow me to serve them in the first place. They respect my work and my talents, and don't look down on me because I'm too different, or too young, or for any other reason. I love Zan, too, and want to be with him. How can I go home, when I'm already here?"
"But, Rin—"
"Rin stopped being my home the moment I left," Star interrupted, shaking her head. "After running off the way I did, they will never welcome me back. Not forever, anyway. My cousins, my mother, and my brother, they will welcome back with open arms; but they will treat me like a traitor for taking the Earth sigil, and blame me for putting ideas in my cousin's heads. It's just a place I once lived, now. My future lies here, in Habaharan. I made up my mind about this a long time ago."
Seth grunted in disgust over this. "You shouldn't have to fear them. It's not right of your people to turn their back on you like that."
Star came over and put her hand on his shoulder. "You are my people, too, you know. More so than the Arin ever have been. It will be a sad thing to say goodbye to my family, yes. But I have family here, now, and they will need me far more. No doubt there will be much to do when the war is won. I will be proud to stay, and help rebuild our people, and our city, side by side as it should be."
Seth put his hand on hers, and his mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You speak with boldness and bravery, as usual, Star of Habaharan," he said quietly. "Boldness and bravery that have yet to be tested. War is a grizzly thing. You might not speak so boldly when it comes to pass."
Patting his shoulder, Star left him to gather her things. "I will just have to deal with whatever comes, then. It's too late to take those words back now. For now, there will be no war without an informed army of citizens and soldiers, and so I will leave the two of you to your printing."
"You leave us already?" Spencer whined. "But you only just got here! Stay a while and keep us company. Spare me a dance, at least, while the radio is turned up."
Star laughed over her shoulder as she walked to the door. "I'll see the two of you in a few weeks or so, if not sooner. The day and time of the next meeting is among the bulletins I've brought in code, and we hope to see you there."
"But of course," Seth answered. "It's where we get most of the best news. And don't you forget your poetry on your way out. It's in the nonfiction section. Great Masters of Classic Verse, I believe it is called. Big, old book. Worn leather binding. Fancy purple lettering you can barely read on the spine. You won't miss it."
"Na'makshe'ik," she replied – an awfully long way of saying thank you, she had always thought. "I will see you both at the meeting, then. Ad'aste, Spender. Ad'aste, Seth."
"Ad'aste, Star," the brothers said in one voice.
"Your old tongue is showing a lot of improvement," Seth added as she let herself out. "But work on your accent before trying it on eb'ati. She will scold your ear off, as it is."
Nodding her thanks for the warning, Star shut the door behind her and skipped up the stairs, humming along with the muffled sound of the radio.
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Afterthoughts…
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I'm not overly fond of mass exposition to kick off a story, as you all may know by now. But I like to think it was an okay recap, so I won't beat myself about it.
Yes, there's a whole language now. Since Rodda was making one up for Star of Deltora, and I happen to have been forming one of my own since middle school, I thought I'd go ahead and go for it. I believe the official name of the language is laira'dirsa, or "dragon-tongue". Na is just the definite article "the", which is why so much of it begins that way. For some reason, I decided way back when that individual words are contracted together with apostrophes so that each separate clause is just one big word; it was different and neat, so I continued to roll with it all these years.
So, na'makshe'ik literally translates to "the pleasure is mine"; and ad'aste literally translates to "from love", but is their phrase for "goodbye". Eb'ati is "of mother", and ad'atassa is "from son". You get the gist. God, I love this language I've made. XD
Star and Zan are totally dating now, and have been since the moment you last saw them. Hooray! Alanis is….. Not enthusiastic about this, but everyone else kind of tunes her out. More about that another time.
