The Dream Sifter (The Depths of Memory Book 1) Page 3

  They progressed down the corridor until it forked and a separate set of stairs framed by a graceful arch opened to the sky, leading left to the upper rim of the amphitheater's bowl. A simple waist-high railing was all that separated them from the wide-open space below. With the amphitheater now below them, Rai followed Mala along the path into a series of large, verdant gardens. Some plants held produce in differing stages of ripeness, while others appeared to be grown for their flowers or unique beauty alone.

  "Well, at least now I know where breakfast came from this morning," Rai mused, recognizing a plant bearing spotted melons.

  Mala looked back at Rai, and she decided the Apprentice's pleasant expression was beginning to grate on her. "The Temple has these gardens to thank for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, all year round."

  Rai could believe it. All around them were fruits and vegetables of every kind. "It's a wonderful technique, combining produce with the more aesthetic plants."

  "Most of the non-fruiting plants here have medicinal purposes, aid in the health of nearby plants, or promote soil regeneration," Mala informed her. "Priestess Vartrell oversees these gardens, and with her insight and leadership the yields have doubled. These fields grow a variety of crops year-round, allowing for a constant supply of fresh produce." Various workers were scattered through the gardens, tending the plants and nurturing the rich soil in which they flourished.

  "Raven's Call Temple is indeed lucky to have such a gifted Priestess," Rai replied, even more in awe of the gardens.

  "Indeed we are."

  The gardens gave way to thick orchards. Rai recognized the red fruit, but trees bore many other fruits as well. Rai wondered if meeting in the Temple gardens was normal for the Matriarch. She'd assumed the Matriarch had an audience chamber. Strolling through the gardens was a peaceful and meditative act, and Rai could imagine using the space for quiet contemplation, whether wandering or tending the plants. She recalled that Raven's Call, one of the planet's three original settlements, had the unique gift of soil amendments and fruit trees from humanity's home world. These orchards were the only places on Az'Unda where purebred Earth stock could grow. Because of this, the orchards stood as a reminder of the power the Temples, and thus the Matriarchs, held.

  The humid environment provided the precious trees with significant annual growth and fullness of leaves, but the plague held their fruit production to only a fraction of its potential. The sickness of the planet seemed to hinder their natural fertility, despite their size and otherwise good health. Az'Unda's crushing sickness left no part of the planet untouched, not even this sacred ground.

  The trees were in full bloom covered in cascades of pink, rose and white clusters of aromatic flowers. The canopy of blossoms all around Rai drew her into something of a meditative state of her own. They walked past a line of trees when the bright white robes of the Matriarch interrupted her reverie.

  Like the Elder who had observed Rai's awakening, this ornately-cloaked Matriarch stood motionless. A large, white veil obscured her face, leaving the Temple leader unreadable. It hung down past her shoulders, managing to conceal even her hair before blending into rest of the Matriarch's brilliant robes. It was semi-opaque, so Rai could sense the vague outline of the form beneath. Rai wondered if anyone ever saw the Matriarch out of the glittering white robes.

  A woman stood next to the Matriarch, and Rai gathered she served as the Matriarch's assistant. The woman's bright yellow robes were a simple, floor length sleeveless garment, revealing willowy and delicate arms. Swirls of amber and orange adorned a scarf wrapped around her waist-length braid and contained her black hair away from the otherwise bright color scheme. The woman's hands moved in short jerky movements, taking notes on her data tablet without even breaking eye contact with Rai. The assistant's stern expression suggested the notes were none too flattering.

  Mala and Rai stopped a few feet before the pair. Rai followed Mala's lead and bowed, going first to their knees and then lowering their heads to the loamy ground. Due to her proximity, Rai could smell the ground. A cacophony of images flooded her mind. Leaves, flower petals, grass, pebbles, moss -- every element of the soil's aroma became full of detail as they forced their way into her consciousness, and then slipped away the next instant, fading into numbness. The brief intensity of the sensation overwhelmed her, and only the deep, powerful, melodic tones of the Matriarch's voice brought her back to reality.

  "Rise, my children." They stood, and Rai realized the Matriarch had a smooth and calming voice. She was at ease with this enshrouded yet powerful figure. Even so, she didn't dare bring her eyes to meet such an impressive figure. Rai kept her gaze down, circumspectly studying the line between the perfect whiteness of the Matriarch's robes and the decomposing humus beneath them.

  "My dear Mala, thank you for bringing your charge all this way. I'm sure you understand my desire to sweeten this day in any way possible," the Matriarch continued.

  "Agreed, Mother. The walk was no burden. We are lucky to have the gift of this day and the bounty of the spring in these orchards. Your request to meet here is a gift to our senses." Did they drill ceremonial speech into Apprentices? Mala had a gift for it.

  "My dear child, you understand that you have been found barren, yes?" the Matriarch asked, her voice soft and melodic.

  "Yes Mother," Rai replied. The Matriarch's question filled her with stark reality: she would never have children of her own. Children for her birth Sept. She fingered her tattoo for a moment, lost in a brief wave of panic, and then clasped her hands behind her back. Rai's gaze returned to the ground at her feet. She should feel regretful about the loss, her failure to her Sept, but instead she felt powerless in this situation. Dread ate away at her hopes for her future.

  "And you understand that by Az'Un law, your Sept is under no obligation to welcome back barren women?" Rai nodded her understanding. "To avoid the scandal of having you return to them in this circumstance, your Sept has formally refused you re-admittance. In situations such as this, it is my duty to attempt to find a suitable placement. Will you accept my judgment in this matter, my child? I will warn you that if you do not, I will be forced to send you to one of the Sept-less work houses."

  An image of living amongst the lowest caste on Az'Unda, taking whatever work the shift managers doled out to her, living in bunk dorms with other women and hoping edible meals occurred at least once a day flashed through her mind. Sure, it kept the Sept-less alive and engaged in society. The only reason they didn't revolt was the omnipresence of the Guardians and the dependence everyone had on the Temples to remain healthy from the plague. Rai shuddered -- that option was no real option.

  The fact that her prior Sept had turned her away didn't surprise Rai, but it was nonetheless disturbing. No respectable Sept welcomed back into the fold someone who'd failed them -- even through no fault of their own. Moving on to a new house afforded her the chance to start over without fear of shame or retribution, although she'd never hold rank or title within the new Sept. A ball of anxiety rolled in her belly over her uncertain future -- so much was out of her control. Still, there wasn't much alternative to accepting the Matriarch's placement, unless she wanted to become a social pariah.

  "Whatever future you have laid out for me, Mother, I will strive to embrace it," Rai replied.

  "Wonderful, child! I've taken the liberty of placing you with the Durmah Sept. Are you familiar with the Durmah?"

  "Revered Mother," Mala interjected, "Rai suffers from amnesia related to the treatments for her ... time in the crèche."

  "Ah, is that so, my dear?" Rai nodded to her query, wondering just how much the Matriarch knew beforehand of her situation. The Journeywoman furiously took notes; Rai heard the staccato tap-scratch-tap of her magnetic pen against the tablet.

  "Well, my dear, perhaps you should consider that a blessing," continued the Matriarch. "After all, it will be easier for you to move into your future when the past isn't there to hold you back, yes?" Rai nodded again, h
oping the Matriarch's wisdom held true. "I will finalize things with the Durmah, and they will pick you up this evening. I think you'll fit in well with them. I can tell you the Durmah are a Merchant Sept, a large family, and there is some urgency in their need for you. Do you have any questions?"

  "Did the Durmah request me?" Rai asked, unsure how the Sept expected her so quickly.

  The Matriarch laughed. "Oh no, my dear. They know no specific details concerning you. We don't permit shares of information between Septs. Rather they have been awaiting a new adoptee for some time, to help them expand their business."

  Rai didn't think it sounded like this placement had much to do with her best interest at all. The Matriarch's job was to serve her people, and Rai's placement did satisfy needs on both sides. Rai doubted that her own desires outweighed the greater needs of the populace. With her amnesia, she didn't know what she would have preferred, had she had any real ability to choose. On the upside, she wouldn't be waiting for weeks waiting for a placement. It was a lot to take in at once.

  "Is there anything you need from the Temple or from me before you go? You have but to ask," the Matriarch offered.

  Rai glanced up at the Matriarch's assistant to find her meeting her gaze, clinical interest giving way to a slight smirk. Her eyes held a predatory glint, such that Rai imagined her with that same expression spending free time pinning and arranging insects for display.

  She had hundreds more questions racing through her mind now--about her memory, about the effects of the medicinals on her, about her life before two days ago--but none she thought wise to ask the Matriarch just now.

  "Do you know what role I'll have in the Durmah Sept?"

  For the first time the stony-faced assistant spoke; Rai wasn't surprised to find her tone gratingly unpleasant compared to the smooth, round tones of the Matriarch. "Your new Sept will fill you in on everything you need to know. It's not our place to divulge internal Sept workings to the adoptee."

  "Do you have any other questions?" the Matriarch inquired. By the somewhat impatient tone in her voice, she had other things on her agenda.

  Rai sensed unease welling within her, but from where? She felt urged to action, and had to restrain herself from moving.

  "My humble thanks for your wise counsel in this matter. I owe you my future." Rai managed another deep bow, touching her forehead to the line between the hem of the Matriarch's robes and the orchard's pungent floor. This time Rai cautiously breathed out as she neared the ground, lest the smell overwhelm her again.

  "We leave you in Mala's capable hands. Good luck in your future life," the Matriarch said, and then turned and walked away from Mala, Rai, and the Temple, moving deeper into the orchards.

  Rai rose and smelled something beyond the garden floor and the countless pink blossoms on the trees.

  She smelled fear. Profound anxiety. Bordering on what an animal might sense off its prey.

  Was she the fearful one? She had anxieties about meeting the Durmah, sure, but not this fear.

  No. This was from the Matriarch.

  Why this situation made someone of such high status so scared, Rai had no idea. Nonetheless, there it was, as real for her as the ground itself.

  The Matriarch disappeared out of sight, and the sensation subsided. The meeting left Rai filled with questions about her future, about her past, and about this power of perception she held.

  Rai was lost in thought on the long walk back to her room.

  CHAPTER THREE

  #BEGIN TRANSMISSION#

  #ROUTING CODE: CHIEFTESS RAZA, GUARDIAN SEPT, BARROW'S GROVE FROM GUARDIAN GRAEBER, GUARDIAN SEPT, ROAMING COM H3-29Y#

  #ENCRYPTION: HIGH#

  GRAEBER: I need to update you on a special project. Do you have time?

  RAZA: I'll make time. Hold a moment.

  RAZA: You have my full attention. By your reference, I'm already disappointed--although not surprised. Be honest, how far have things gone?

  GRAEBER: I know I'm acting against your wishes, sister, but I've joined with the Veil. She set the course, but couldn't carry through on her own. I'm acting as eyes and ears.

  RAZA: Please know that I cannot support you. Rest assured the Anemoi won't find out from me, but I'll make no attempt to defend you from them either.

  When they find out, and they will--it's only a matter of time--it will be the end for both you and the Veil. Have you stopped to consider what losing both of you will mean for our cause? The repercussions for all the people who've sacrificed in order to get us this far? The public may not know your name, but you would be missed by those who work with you. On the other hand, the Veil will not go unnoticed into the night. The repercussions of her absence will not go unnoticed and will cause a number of eyebrows to raise amongst the populace.

  You may not understand this from your emotionally charged perspective, but their decision was the right one. Their rules--our rules--were broken. Their sentence will be carried out with or without yours or the Veil's assistance. This may be hard for you to hear, but I supported their decision, just as I also understand your point of view.

  You have another option--to simply walk away and let her take sole responsibility for what's happened. The Veil promised them she'd carry out their sentence--and therefore she must take the fall. You could deny any knowledge of the Veil's actions, and they wouldn't question you.

  It's not too late to get rid of the problem. If you act quickly enough, they might be none the wiser and at least hold you blameless if you cleaned up her mess. Consider this possibility.

  GRAEBER: Do you think I haven't considered all of this before? You will drop this line of discussion if you wish to remain in contact with me.

  RAZA: I had to try.

  GRAEBER: I understand. On another note, although it may be impossible for you to imagine a traitor within the Anemoi, I've been suspecting one for some time now. I don't know who it is yet, and I don't think I'll have any time to find out, considering what I'm taking on. I'll have to rely on you.

  RAZA: I'll look into your concerns regarding security within the Anemoi. I doubt I'll find anything to flag--this issue aside, we all more or less agree. If you have anything further for me on this, for example specific evidence of a security breach, please let me know.

  GRAEBER: When I can give you more details that are specific I will.

  RAZA: Very well. I will continue to send you assignments. After all, if I'm not sending my top man normal work requests someone will suspect something. Like I said, I can't support you along this path--and I won't be implicated either.

  GRAEBER: I can handle both. I'll maintain regular contact with you.

  RAZA: Here's hoping I see you again soon, alive.

  GRAEBER: Stay safe yourself.

  #END TRANSMISSION#

  *

  Late in the afternoon Apprentice Mala escorted Rai down a new hallway to a small meeting room. With only the clothes on her back and simple leather shoes to call her own, Rai couldn't wait to get out of the Temple, and hoped the Durmah didn't change their minds at the last minute.

  "This is where I say goodbye. Chieftess Durmah awaits you inside."

  "Thank you, Apprentice Mala."

  Mala opened the door and held it open. Rai hesitated only a moment, mustering her courage before she strode through, chin up, shoulders back, and hands clasped in front of her. The room she entered contained a couple of simple, dark-brown couches arranged around a central low-set round wooden table containing a pleasing arrangement of blue and purple-colored blossoms as its centerpiece.

  Chieftess Durmah wore long robes not unlike the style used in the Temples, except these were bright swirls of green and yellow hues. She'd aged well beyond her mid-thirties, with wrinkles creasing the edges around her eyes and streaks of silver ran through her long blond hair.

  "Welcome, Rai," said the Chieftess.

  "It's an honor to meet you, Chieftess Durmah." Rai remained standing, unsure what this process would entail.

  "I
understand you've been turned away from your birth Sept. Is this true?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Rai nodded.

  "Durmah needs a new member, but not one who will cling to their past. You'd need to make a fresh start of things if you join us. No contact with your old Sept. No mourning over the separation. A clean break. Can you commit to this, here and now?"

  Rai fought the ironic laugh that threatened to surface. How much had the Matriarch shared with the Chieftess? "It won't be a problem. We've done our parting of ways. What's in the past is best left there."

  The Chieftess pursed her lips into a wry smile, and then inclined her head in acknowledgement. "So be it. Our Sept is a merchant guild. Some of our members travel between the cities on Az'Unda in wagons, transporting goods for sale. You may be involved with these trips, outside of the safety of the city walls. Does this concern you?"

  Rai knit her brows. "Have you ever lost a member on a trip?"

  "There's been a rare injury, but no. No deaths." The Chieftess' face remained impassive.

  Had the Chieftess turned away others who'd exhibited cold feet? Rai wouldn't blame the woman -- she needed citizens of higher than average quality. For whatever reason, the concept of being outside the city walls felt liberating, not terrifying.

  Rai shrugged with a nonchalance rooted in her solar plexus. "Every Sept house has a chosen trade they ply, and I'm sure each has elements they consider dangerous to their chosen craft. At least with the travel, although it has an element of risk, I'd get to see more of Az'Unda."