Incarnate

Chapter 12 Friends

SAM WAS QUIET when we left the house, probably still smarting from Stef’s jabs. There had to be something I could say to make him smile again. Not that I wanted to pretend nothing had happened in the kitchen, but aside from a tentative alliance with Stef, Sam was my only friend. I needed him.

The day was beginning to warm, but I was grateful for the sweater I’d found in my room; I pulled the sleeves over my hands to keep them from becoming chilled.

“Cold?” At least he wasn’t running this time.

“Not anymore.” We turned off the walkway and onto the street.

The city was a mess of roads and intersections, all wide and friendly, except there were no signs, no way for a stranger to tell where she was.

“There should be a faster way to get around,” I muttered. “I know there are vehicles somewhere. I saw them on one of Corin’s lists in the guard station.”

“We used to drive, but the reek of exhaust was unbelievable, and they tore up the roads. Maintenance was too expensive and annoying, and some people”—he coughed—“gained an unsightly amount of weight.”

I couldn’t imagine Sam anything other than tall and slender and young. “Vehicles couldn’t have been the only reason.”

“No, but they didn’t help. Eventually the Council decided to put them in storage. People too old or ill to walk can use them. People with children too young to make long trips were also allowed.”

Which meant Li had taken one when she fled the city in shame. “And there I was thinking I had never been in one.”

“May you never have to again. May you always be strong and healthy.” He took us down more streets, pausing to explain who lived where and how far from the Councilhouse we were. “Of course,” he said, motioning upward, “if you’re ever lost, you can find your way to the temple by cutting through yards. I don’t advise that if you can avoid it. There are few fences, but people appreciate privacy.”

I stopped in the middle of the street and tilted my head back, fists still balled in the sweater sleeves. The temple disappeared into the fluffy midmorning clouds. “What could be in there that takes up so much space?”

“Nothing. It’s empty.”

I jerked my head down and searched his eyes. “You’ve been in there? I thought there wasn’t a door.”

“There isn’t.” The line formed between his eyes again, and two around his mouth joined it. “I just know it’s empty. No one’s been inside, though.”

“That’s weird.” Like the way the white walls had heartbeats, and just looking at the temple made my stomach churn. “Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that?”

“I never thought about it before.” He glanced upward and scowled. “Not in five thousand years.”

I hated when he did that, reminded me how old he was.

We turned onto the avenue from yesterday, and Sam pointed out the different mills and factories in the industrial quarter. “The city is a circle, temple and Councilhouse in the center. Four avenues go in the cardinal directions to divide it into quarters. Southwest and northeast are residential, southeast is industrial, and northwest is agricultural. You can see the fish ponds from the market field, and the orchards beyond that, but I doubt you’d have fun exploring the grain fields.”

“I might.” I definitely wouldn’t, but I had to keep him guessing. “If I was looking for hints about who made Heart, that’s where I’d start.”

“Historians did start there, and found a few skeletons and artifacts, but no one has been able to tell where they came from.” He gave that funny half smile he did when I said things he didn’t expect. “Why do you think about the past so much?”

I shrugged. “Because I wasn’t there.”

He shook his head and chuckled, then hastened to explain. “Not laughing at you. I just— I think you’re amazing.”

Sarcasm escaped before I could contain it. “Earlier you thought I was impulsive.” That wasn’t wise. He should have added reckless and stupid to the list.

He stopped walking. “Ana.”

I wanted to ignore him, but his strained tone didn’t bode well for future friendship. “Sam.” I kept my voice low so it wouldn’t carry; there were people nearby, looking at us. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Thinking too much again. He wore a distant look while I held my breath, then came back. “You have every right to be upset. What happened earlier—”

“Nothing happened,” I said quickly. Before it could become awkward. Before he apologized for not feeling whatever it was I thought I felt.

There was no need to apologize for the absence of those feelings, and I knew he liked me enough. He’d taken care of me when I couldn’t do it; he’d taken me into his home when I didn’t have one. He wrote a song for me. Dossam, the one person I’d always wanted to meet. Of course I felt— Well, of course I thought I felt something for my hero who turned out to be a good man, too. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“Nothing happened,” I whispered again. Saying it, deciding it, made the pain less.

His lips parted, and he looked unsure. It seemed he might argue, but instead he gave a small nod. “Okay. That’s probably best.”

I exhaled and adjusted my hands in my sleeves. “So do you think they’ll let me use the library?” We started walking again. The tension between us hadn’t quite dissipated, but it was easier.

“By their own order, they have to let you. How else are you going to learn everything they require?”

“What about all the things I want to learn that they won’t approve of?” Like what happened to Ciana, where did I come from, and, if there were more unborn souls out there, why me? How did I get to be born? Luck? Or was I supposed to have been born five thousand years ago with everyone else, and just got stuck along the way? That sounded like something that would happen to me. “In order to find out what happened, I’m going to have to figure out why everyone is reincarnated. I doubt they’ll like me looking into that.”

“Trust me. You’ll have access to everything you need. Even if they move things from the library, I’ll find them for you. Somehow. Everything was digitally archived two or three generations ago. Convenience, they said.” He rolled his eyes. “I might be able to remember how to fetch the information, but Whit or Orrin definitely can. They’re the library archivists.”

My hand floated over his for a moment while we walked, but I withdrew it before he — or anyone else — noticed. “I’m glad you were the one to find me, Sam,” I said instead. “I could have done a lot worse.”

“I’m glad, too.” The look he gave me was — fondness?

It was too confusing, trying to figure out what he really thought of me. Maybe when we were done here, he’d play the piano for me again. I knew how to handle that, at least.

“What’s going on up there?” I motioned toward the crowd of people around the temple and another large building beneath it. People milled around, chatted with one another, drank from paper cups, though I couldn’t tell where they’d gotten them. The perfume of fresh bread and coffee drifted toward us.

“This is the market field,” Sam said as we approached a cobblestone expanse that surrounded the temple. “Once a month there’s a market where you can buy most anything you need.”

I’d never seen so many people in my life; they were so noisy, all shouting and laughing. “And it’s happening now?”

Sam edged closer to me, like I needed his protection. “No, this is just the morning crowd. It’s the best social spot, and if you’re too lazy to cook your own breakfast, Armande almost always has a stall open.”

I paused as a pair of children raced by, heedless of anyone they might crash into. “Are you sure this isn’t the market?”

He led me around a cluster of tables and benches, away from a handful of people staring at me like I had four heads. “This is only a fraction of the population. Market day will be packed.”

“All my life it’s been just Li and me.” And the occasional visitor, but they’d only come to see Li. “I guess I didn’t realize— There are so many people.” And so loud. All the laughing, singing, gossiping.

Sam pressed his hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward a collapsible stall that held glass-covered trays of food. “Let me know if it’s too overwhelming.”

“I’m fine.” My words felt stiff, though. Every time we walked past a group of people, they looked at me. News about the nosoul’s arrival had spread quickly.

“Who’s next, do you think?” a woman not-quite-muttered to the man sitting next to her. “First Ciana. Anyone could be replaced next.”

I reminded myself I’d had nothing to do with my birth. I’d had nothing to do with Ciana’s disappearance. That didn’t stop the guilt.

“Someone said the temple went dark when Ciana died,” said the man. “Meuric and Deborl told everyone it was Janan punishing us, or maybe Ciana…”

When I glanced up to see if Sam had heard the discussion, he wore a dark glare aimed at the couple. “Ignore them, Ana,” he said.

At this rate, I would have to ignore everyone in the world. All the million souls of Heart. “Everybody hates me.”

“They won’t.” He smiled at me, that warmth again. Fondness. He didn’t hate me, though I had no clue why. “Just try to smile a lot. Look pleasant.”

“Hmph.”

“Here, I know what will help.” He checked his SED. “We have a little time before they’re expecting us.”

We approached the baker’s stall, and Sam bought cups of hot apple cider to warm our cold hands, and a pastry for us to share. I did smile then.

“This is Armande,” he said, introducing the baker. “He’s my father this time around. He’s also the best baker in Heart.”

While Armande told me about his kitchen, how early he woke to get muffins and pies ready for the day, I studied his features. He had the same wide-set eyes and black hair as Sam. Same build. Interesting. I didn’t look much like Li. Maybe I looked like Menehem.

Sitting on a bench near the pastry stall, I tore off a piece of flaky bread with honey drizzled on top. It melted on my tongue, and I shivered. “I’ve never eaten anything this good in my entire life.”

Armande grinned and hugged me, and didn’t seem to notice when I stiffened and nearly spilled my cider. Sam reached over as if to steady my cup while Armande disengaged himself. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” said the baker.

“We’re just very careful with her hands.” Sam drew back, meeting my eyes briefly. “She burned them trapping a sylph that had me cornered. If I’m going to get her on the piano, she’ll need those fingers.”

Armande’s eyebrows rose, and he gave us a muffin. “Then I owe you. I’d been intending to take singing lessons soon, and I can’t get them from Sam if he’s dead. Do you bake, Ana?”

“Maybe?”

He filled my cider cup again. “Come by and I’ll show you a few things. I tried to teach Sam, but he just eats the batter.”

Sam gave an exaggerated sigh. “I was five and storing up for a growth spurt. You were practically starving me by making me wait for things to bake.”

Armande grinned widely.

When we’d finished breakfast and dropped our cups in the bin for recycling, Sam and I headed around the temple to an enormous white building set beneath it. A half-moon stair led up to a wide landing and a series of double doors, which were guarded by columns, crumbling statues, and iron trellises threaded with thorny vines. Roses, perhaps.

“Is that the Councilhouse?”

Sam nodded. “Most of the exterior is like houses or the city wall. It was here when we arrived. But other things, like the columns and relief along the top”—he pointed upward—“we built.”

When I’d touched the wall the day before, the stone had been frictionless. I doubted anyone could hammer a nail through it. “How did you get the extra rock to stay up there?” In the morning light, I could just see the seam where the Councilhouse shell met marble.

“Oh, by we, I mean people with better engineering skills than myself. If you really want to know, we can find out.”

“Yes, please.” I wanted to know how to do everything. As we rounded a crowd standing around a pair playing some kind of game, I edged closer to Sam. No telling if they hated me, too. Armande had been nice, though. “By the way, are you going to tell everyone that horribly inaccurate story about the sylph?”

“It isn’t inaccurate, and people need to know something about you. So far they’ll only have heard whatever Li says, and anything Corin and the Councilors you met yesterday reported.”

“Not good things, I’m sure.” I sighed.

“Perhaps, but that’s exactly why they need to hear this very accurate story. And why you need to get back to smiling. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, meeting everyone who already knows who you are, but you need to make a good impression.”

Overwhelmed ought to cover it. “I understand.”

“After this, we’ll go home, unpack, and relax.”

“I’ve never had a home before.” That must have been all the sweets talking; I’d never have told him otherwise. “I mean, staying with Li, I never felt like I belonged. That’s all.”

Sam touched my wrist, making me shiver. “You always have a home with me.”

Before I could respond, a group of people stopped us on the stairs, and Sam introduced me.

Things like, “Ana is my student,” were uttered, along with, “We’d like to visit the rice fields when it’s time for planting.” We also made dates to visit the apiary, pottery and woodworkers’ buildings, and textile factories.

A black-haired girl, maybe a couple years older than me, wrapped her arms around my shoulders and squeezed. “I’m so glad you’ve decided to come to Heart at last,” she said. “Let me know if you need anything at all. I’m only a ten-minute walk from Sam’s, and I promise the bees won’t bother you.”

I barely had time to thank her before Sam insisted we were running out of time. When we were out of earshot, I said, “That was Sarit, right? The hugging girl with bees?”

“Yep. Every time you add honey to your coffee, you have Sarit to thank.”

“I like her better than most of the other people we’ve run into.”

Sam flashed a grin at me. “I thought you would.”

“Honestly, though, I’m a little nervous about meeting anyone else.” I followed him around one of the immense columns guarding the landing at the top of the staircase. “We could end up scooping manure from horse stalls.”

“And pig runs.”

“At least you’ll have to suffer with me.”

“You’ll actually be suffering by yourself. Since I’ve already paid my dues on that, I’ll supervise. From afar, and with some kind of nose and mouth protection when I must endure your presence afterward. But the rest of it, sure. We’ll do it together. You might even find something you enjoy.” He looked… wistful.

“Dossam!” A girl who looked like she was barely out of her first quindec launched herself at Sam, and they embraced. “You’re back, just in time for the rededication. Will you be playing after all?”

Sam glanced at me. “I haven’t decided yet. Stef is bullying me into dancing. Ana and I have lessons with her every morning now.”

The girl finally noticed my presence. “You’re Ana?” She didn’t give me time to nod. “I hope you’re planning on dancing at my rededication. Maybe you can convince Sam not to hide behind his piano the entire time, too. We can use recordings.”

I smiled, per Sam’s advice, and the girl seemed pleased.

“Well, I have to run. I was just confirming the ceremony details, but I need to get back to Tera now. She’s not feeling well.”

“I hope she recovers,” I called, but the girl — Ash, presumably — was already halfway down the great staircase. She waved and vanished into the crowd.

At last, Sam hauled open a door for me, and I ducked under his arm. The entrance hall was cool and quiet, save the echoes of footfalls and voices beyond heavy doors. I resisted the urge to drop from exhaustion right there. The number of people— Well, maybe I’d get used to it.

“You were great.” Sam motioned me down the hall. “Now they’ll remember that they like you—”

“Or they like you and you don’t seem to mind me.”

“—and they’ll tell everyone great things about you. Especially Armande. I think he’d do anything for you.”

“You just introduced me to people you knew would feel that way. Did you take lessons from all of them, too?” Maybe I’d get to hear embarrassing-for-Sam stories to help restore my dignity. Surely Armande would have some.

Sam’s mouth turned up in the corner, always the same one. Soon, he’d have a line there to match the one between his eyes. “I can’t sneak anything past you.”

Not for lack of trying.

I couldn’t forget him creeping from the house last night.