Chapter Eleven: Kinship
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I'm surprised that you've never been told before
That you're lovely
And you're perfect
And that somebody wants you
I'm surprised that you've never been told before
That you're priceless
Yeah, you're precious
Even when you are not new
- "F.N.T." by Semisonic
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"You bored of tests yet?"
Nichyn swiftly looked up at Lera and jolted, though he had heard her entrance several moments ago. By instinct, he dropped the paper behind him and hid it. A second later, he shook his head. Ten days after his insertion into the Rym family, he still couldn't get used to the concept that he didn't need to watch his every move.
"You knocked something over," Lera offered gently, stepping further into his room.
"I—yes, I am aware of that," he said, looking down at the pieces of flimsi.
The girl looked as if she wanted to ask what it was, but she reigned in her curiosity. "Okay… Shanya said you were taking some aptitude tests?"
"Yes, I have completed the mathematics and…" He checked the exam title, "and the 'language arts' tests. Did Shanya send you with more?"
No matter what day it was, Lera spent at least some of her time with Shanya (or even just in the Rym house, if Shanya was working), despite her schoolwork. Zuleika had muttered something about Lera being a "smarty pants" who didn't require as much time to complete her tasks. Generally, Lera aided Shanya, or simply talked with her about anything under the stars. Nichyn kept his wonder about her easy freedom to himself.
"No, I—I think you've done them all," Lera answered. "Shanya's sending them off in a few minutes…you said you were done, right?" At his nod, she smiled a little bashfully. "Then—well, then, come on down; it's too early to be doing tests anyway."
"What are you and Shanya doing today?" he asked politely while he picked up his tests and followed her downstairs. Timmis and Shanya had recently given him a talk about proper etiquette towards girls. Although not nearly as prejudiced as Hapan nobility, the adults had informed him, Gallinore was a matriarchy. And he needed to reverse some of his assumptions very quickly.
Nichyn hadn't even known the definition of "matriarchy"; Na'Lein had no translation that he knew of.
"Shanya's going to work soon, actually. I—I was wondering if, um, if you wanted to go out for th-the day," Lera stuttered, pausing on the stairs. "I—I mean, we don't have to, b-but I thought—maybe—y-you'd like to see th-the city."
She hadn't seemed this uncomfortable around him since the first day. He quickly tried to reassure her—Nichyn liked seeing her self-assurance. "As long as it isn't any trouble," he replied, smiling faintly. "Crala seems quite a large city."
"Oh, it isn't," she said. "It's only a town, really. Mul'iq—the next city—is much bigger. A-and it's no problem." Shy, she looked away and took another step down.
"If you're sure you want to… child-sit… me for a day," Nichyn tried the phrase, "then I would most appreciate it."
"Baby-sit," Lera corrected automatically.
"Of course," he replied, embarrassed. Glancing at Lera, however, he realized she had barely noticed the mistake she'd corrected. "What does sitting on babies have to do with that expression?"
"Oh." She grinned. "I have no idea why it's 'sit.' But a baby-sitter is just someone who watches children…or hatchlings, or whatever."
He frowned. "I see."
His age-mate swallowed uncomfortably; did she think he was upset with her? "I-It's just one of those sayings, I guess."
Nichyn noticed her returning stutter, and switched away from their topic. "Will Shanya…fly…us into town?"
"No," Lera dismissed. She began descending the stairs at a normal pace once again. "She's taking the speeder in the other direction. We'll take the public transport—you can use Arelyk's TransPass."
"Thank you," he said. Was a TransPass a form of identification? If so, using it couldn't be worth the risk of being stopped by a rule enforcer, with an obvious lie sewn into Nichyn's coat. "Are you certain it's safe?" he asked uncertainly.
She gave him a blank look. "Why wouldn't it be? Shanya's paid for it."
"I'm not Arelyk," he reminded her.
She eyed him steadily for a moment before saying, "Considering I grew up right next door to Arelyk, and he's my best friend, I think I'm totally aware that you aren't him."
"But, you want me to use his ID?"
"Of course I don't," she said, looking even more perplexed. "Besides, you'll have your own once you start school. Why would I give you Arelyk's?"
"Then what is a 'TransPass'?"
"Oh. It-it isn't ph-photo ID. It's just a fare card. Even I could use it, i-if I lost mine."
"You're sure?" he asked, beginning to feel rather foolish.
"Positive." She smiled timidly and blushed a little.
"How long are you planning on going?" Shanya's voice called suddenly. Not long after, the woman herself came around the corner. Although Shanya had obviously—and silently—been listening to the conversation, Lera didn't jump.
"I don't know," the girl said thoughtfully. "It depends on what Nichyn wants to see."
"Nothing too far downtown, I hope?"
Lera rolled her eyes playfully. "No, not on the one-block-wide strip that constitutes as 'downtown' in this slow-poke town."
"You sound like your grandmother when you say that, dear." Shanya ruffled Lera's ash-blond hair playfully. "Well, why don't you do some shopping with Nichyn while you're out—"
"Shopping?" Lera made a face.
"He only needs a few things—Timmis bought most of his clothes, but there are some missing basics…"
"We can check out the mall, I guess." Lera shot Nichyn a look. "Fair warning: I really hate shopping, so this will be very quick."
Was there a specific reason she didn't enjoy shopping? And if there was, should he prepare for them? Nichyn regretted that Shanya had confiscated his knife—he would feel safer if he knew he could protect himself and others. Not that he couldn't fight without his dagger—far from it—but the warning glint of his blade had deterred attackers before.
Veras had told Nichyn he wouldn't need a weapon. Even after ten days on Gallinore, he could scarcely count it. As a woman, Veras could not afford to be complacent with her safety, but—security, without fighting for it? He had never seen it, and he could not trust the idea with ease.
Shanya had disappeared to the kitchen, and now returned with a tough-hide pouch in hand. Although Nichyn had picked up on Basic relatively quickly, his lack of concentration made Shanya and Lera's conversation foreign. Towards the end, however, the two women glanced at him, and Lera nodded. He wondered if Shanya was warning the girl that he might be dangerous. His foster mother had reacted strangely when she found his knife…
Moments later, he grabbed his jacket and followed Lera to her own home. "I just have to pick up some stuff, and we'll be on our way," she explained apologetically.
And ask your father for permission to leave, right? Or—or your mother, if Timmis was serious about that matriarchy thing?
She ran up the stairs to her room before he had time to ask. When she returned with a small bag in hand, Lera smiled and beckoned for him to follow her back out the door. "Come on; the next trans comes in seven minutes."
"Uh, Lera?"
She stopped. "Yes?"
"Shouldn't you tell your—"your father "—your parents that you are going out?"
Lera stared at him blankly for a moment before shrugging. "Mo-o-o-o-om?" she yelled around a corner. "I'm going out!"
"Don't forget to bring your com-link," a strange voice replied, faintly and after a pause. Lera's mother sounded surprised that she had been informed of such a thing.
"I got it!" Turning back to Nichyn, Lera shrugged again. "Ready to go?"
He nodded slowly. "Yes."
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"So what's your planet like?" Lera asked, a few hours later.
Stormy. Wild. Powerful and terrible. Nichyn took a spoonful of his "choco-car slide" sludge—a sweet mixture Lera called "ice cream"—and swallowed it. "Not at all like yours," he finally answered.
She laughed quietly. "Even I figured that out."
Nichyn shrugged uneasily. Lera had been nothing but—shyly—friendly and kind thus far, but he still couldn't grasp the freedom with which she had the others spoke. "It is much…harsher on Na'Lein'yhpaon. The storms are very dangerous, and the wind is cold. It's not like Gallinore." He glanced up at the two yellow-white suns.
She grinned. "We have rainstorms here, sometimes. I love them. But they aren't dangerous at all, unless your species can't stand water."
"It is much warmer here," he continued. "That I've seen so far, at least. Except for our summers."
"Nichyn, don't cross the street yet—you'll get run over by a speeder." After she had pulled him back, she said, "What about the people? Your culture? Your government?"
"How little do you know of me?" he asked, surprised that the Ryms wouldn't warn her of his planet's doctrines, and the possible danger he presented.
"I know you were sent away from your home because it wasn't safe, and that you miss your family. I know you're scared of a lot of stuff, including yourself; and you don't trust other guys." She paused to lick some ice cream off her spoon. "Also, I think you're a good person. I mean, you're trying, and I've never heard you complain—which is unusual, given the circumstances."
It was the most he had heard her say—without stuttering—in some time, and Nichyn stared at her.
"And," she added, blushing, "you look at me like you know everything I'm thinking. Which makes me all…blush-y." The colour in her cheeks darkened as she gestured to her face.
"You might be wrong," he said flatly, staring straight ahead.
"About?"
"Me. How do you know I'm not the worst person you'll ever meet? You don't," he finished before she could reply.
"I think I do."
You're so naïve, he thought, but he didn't say it. He didn't want her to try to prove him wrong.
"I'd rather be wrong than treat your horribly for no reason, Nichyn."
Well, then, if you won't protect yourself, I'll do it for you. The decision soothed him a little.
Maybe if this fantasy world, where women ruled in safety, and men were given the benefit of the doubt…maybe if this way of life was true…maybe he would not see another innocent girl broken.
And even if there was a flaw, maybe he could shield her from the worst of it.
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He was useless. Worse than useless. How long had he been drifting, now? Years, in living time. An eternity, in the time of a brother's heart. He had seen the beginning of Sanar's happiness, and that warmed him, but he saw, too, how Prophecy further ensnared her.
Prophecy and the Sildar kept him from reaching Sanar, or anyone close to her. Even Jaina Solo, as sensitive to the dead as Devnos had foreseen, was barred from him. His father had told him it was impossible to stop Prophecy; four years later, Devnos was beginning to believe Jarran. Maybe—
No. Sanar was his sister, and he had betrayed and scarred her far too deeply to give up now. Her fate could be altered, somehow, and Devnos would discover the flaw in Prophecy's security no matter what it took.
He needed to think carefully over every factor. Direct communication was not possible, nor was obvious meddling. So how…?
Someone familiar-but not-caught his attention, and he reluctantly—curiously—moved to that part of the universe. The more he concentrated, the more he was surprised. The boy resembled Devnos in looks, and the man recognized him as Nichyn, Clayra's son. But where was the boy? Some lush, civilized location—certainly not NLY. Clayra had been so…clingingly protective of the boy, though. Where was she? Devnos hardly dared hope that his youngest sister had escaped their native planet; Gantik had pulled Clayra into the thick of Mujir's Resistance. The cause was worthy, but Devnos' family had suffered, and would continue to suffer, more than enough. Needless to say, Gantik Whilem was not Devnos' favourite person. Nor had he been even before the man mucked up his role as Clayra's protector—but that was because of another sister, and an even more blatant crime.
As he watched, Nichyn waved goodbye to a young girl about his age. She grinned and waved back before walking into her own yard. Her hair, unhindered by a scarf, danced in the soft wind.
There was absolutely no way Nichyn was on Na'Lein'yhpaon.
Even more curious now, Devnos followed his nephew into a house. A human woman—a Jedi, if Devnos' senses did not deceive him—welcomed the boy warmly, though a hint of reservation could be found in her eyes. A foster mother, perhaps? Nichyn spoke with her briefly, his Basic carefully thought out to avoid mistakes. Devnos wondered if the boy's words had embarrassed him yet. Devnos could clearly remember the first time he had gone into an outside world bar, and had accidentally insulted the wrong being…
He grimaced at the memory. Stay out of the bars, kid.
When Nichyn finally made his way up to—what Devnos assumed to be—his room, Devnos was mildly surprised to see Nichyn's window had a view of a girl's room. The curtains were open.
I have a Peeping Tom for a nephew? he wondered. It certainly wasn't the worst crime a Klis descendent had committed, but… Oh, really, Nichyn. Just make a move already.
But Nichyn only paused by the window for a moment, to open it and look across the way quickly, as if he was checking in on someone.
Not a Peeping Tom, then. When the homely girl from before entered the room Nichyn kept an eye out for, Devnos snorted. Just an overprotective friend.
But, despite the fact that he had just been given a chance to see evidence of Nichyn's new life, something about the boy's friend tugged. The feeling only increased when she pulled out a large datapad and began writing. It almost felt like…
Kinship?
A long, long time ago, Devnos had been a writer. Prophecy and the Force had corrupted that love, but even dead he could sometimes feel the temperamental spark that created stories. It hadn't been completely drained out of him, not even when he had turned to the Dark side in search of some degree of control over his life.
Scarcely aware of what he was doing, Devnos moved through Nichyn's window to perch on the girl's window sill. When he sent out just a tendril of inquiry, the Force supplied him with her first-layer thoughts. Amidst the typical, busy chaos of the mind, Devnos caught the basics: a female survivor was in peril, but the hero-saves-the-heroine situation was so…contrived and "GFFA." (Ah…the Hapes Consortium, Devnos realized. Talk about a crash course for Nichyn…)
But the situation was far too difficult for even a tough street rat to survive on her own.
What about friends? Devnos wondered.
Saja doesn't have any real friends. And she tends to disgust—or be pitied by—other women.
Devnos startled at the quick response. Since no one heard him anyway, he had taken to thinking loudly, and sometimes out loud. Scanning the girl's aura, he found no unusual amount of Force potential. While every living being had some amount, only a collective few could put it to use, and this girl was not one of them. Her neighbour was a Jedi; perhaps some base layer of the child instinctively recognized and reacted to a Force-gifted presence…?
Devnos pushed his new puzzle aside for later and pondered the young writer's problem. Safety in the form of a male was out of the question, and friends out of the character's personality. Yet, there couldn't be just a random rescue…
A saving and unexpected—but disastrous, to Devnos' eyes—friendship came to mind. Maybe Jaina and Sanar's "friendship" (for lack of better word) would work out better in this girl's story than it had in his.
What about an "irritating" heroine and future friend? Devnos suggested, very quietly.
The girl responded immediately, scribbling faster and faster as she got into the scene, and envisioned the new character.
Devnos watched for several minutes before drifting away, a happy smile on his face. It felt good to help, unhindered…
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Please R&R!
.Tjz