Chapter Six

Six

Noel draped her wings across the top of the long bench, the outright display of freedom unusual as her head lolled against the headrest and her eyes nictitated. She breathed slowly, pulling the unusually warm, salted air deep into her lungs. A salt sauna was a luxury some might question, but it was more than soothing her lungs and skin that drew her here. The mist and steam had always eased her rigorous thought patterns, allowing for new, inventive ideas that might enable her to pull the coming fiasco back from the cliff.

Sighing, she felt her wide wing muscles finally let go and relax. The very air thrummed with a low tone, like underground waves. It vibrated through her hindmost brain, the salt carrying it to the primitive center where fight and flight were stored, stimulating thoughts that had yet to be shackled by thousands of years of civilization. Even the motions of her breath within her lungs felt different and odd. Primeval.

All of which made her glad she was alone in the large, dimly lit room full of mist and subliminal sound.

Her wings dripped with a salty moisture to make her tattoo scars stand out, but seeing as there was no one here but her, it didn’t matter. It had taken almost an entire twenty-four hours to arrange a private room, one that could hold ten bored professionals, or one CEO with Earth-scarred lungs. Being after hours had helped.

Somehow Gorman had turned the entire planet against them with a misunderstanding over a comment he shouldn’t have even had access to. August had gotten himself scraped to Puck’s table visiting a “zoo,” and Tayler had disappeared after Gorman pointed all evidence toward Renee. But what had Noel seeking refuge amid the humid salt was having let August remain there. Her new aide, presumably, had told Sidriel of her opinion that to bring him home now might add years to answering the question of whether humans could still use creation energy…and how.

Humans are liars and tricksters. Noel dug her feet into the sandy floor in agitation, breathing deep until the salt began a warming buzz in her center. Images of the human protesters floated up through her mind, August’s genuine distress when he told her, Jackson’s anger that Dr. Tayler had vanished.

Perhaps I should talk with one of our own religious stewards? she wondered. The words to show Earth that their beliefs didn’t clash with their own were probably already written down—if indeed Earth’s beliefs weren’t born from their own, right next to their fairy tales and internal gut flora.

Blood humming, Noel touched her wrist holo. “Danail?” she said, quickly muting the visual as she was in no more than a draped cloth. Her borrowed aide from Sidriel kept her desk orderly and got her morning drink right, but she had a suspicion that he wasn’t the one actually preparing it. The attractive mer was a threat and a bodyguard all in one, and she wasn’t sure which would win out if she couldn’t fix this.

“Yes, Noel?” Danail’s voice seemed to crackle in the high-salt air.

“Will you see if Master Amos is available to meet with me tomorrow? He might have some insight I’m not aware of in dealing with the Earth’s holy stewards.”

“Yes, Noel,” he said, tone assertive this time.

Again Noel closed her eyes, letting the salty breath fill her lungs, healing them from the damage wrought by just a few hours in Earth’s air. My job was a lot easier when all I had to do was get a handful of agents through the portal, she thought. Never had she imagined they would ever come back.

But her eyes flashed open, wings instinctively curving to cover herself, when an old jin came in, her hunched form wrapped in a loose, wide ribbon to allow free movement.

“Excuse me,” Noel said as she pulled her own ribbon towel more securely. “I have the room for the night.”

“An excellent idea,” Sidriel said, and Noel jerked, only now recognizing the reclusive Neighbor without her usual elaborate bangles and charms. Puck take it. She’s so thin…

“You don’t mind that I join you?” Sidriel said, but it really wasn’t a question. “I so seldom have the opportunity to indulge in a sauna with the chance for a meaningful conversation.”

“Madam Sidriel.” Noel sat up, her wings pulled tight in a show of respect. She hesitated, not sure if a more traditional greeting could be forgone since they were both two towels from being naked. Guilt for having disobeyed Sidriel in allowing August to stay rippled over her, and she practically clamped her wings shut. The thought to blurt out her reasoning rose, stifled immediately.

Sidriel took the bench across from her, shaking her wings out and spreading them fully along the top of the wide seat as Noel’s had been. “Please,” she said when she saw Noel’s wings. “There’s no formality here.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, vulnerable. “Not here,” she said, almost drowsy as the salts began to do their work. “I, too, do my best thinking in the bath.”

Sidriel’s eyes opened. “Go on,” she encouraged. “Don’t make me feel as if I’m intruding.”

It went against all her instincts, but Noel shook her wings, spreading them slowly and only half as much as they had been. I should have flung August home, suspicions or not. She’s going to kill me and use my blood to water the stones.

“Good.” Sidriel looked at the faint lines of the removed tattoos, cracking her toes in amusement. “You sent for Amos. Tell me what you need from him.”

She’s not here about my decision to leave August… Noel warmed in relief. Sending for him had apparently been the right thing to do. “His advice on the spiritual angle may provide insight on how to turn this latest downdraft to our advantage.” She stared at the ceiling instead of Sidriel, flustered. The protests and information leaks were not her fault, but they were still at her feet.

“He will be helpful, yes.” Sidriel exhaled slow and long, breathing in the heavy salt air. “This conversation can’t wait until tomorrow. I have invited him to join us.”

“A holy steward?” Noel sat up, alarmed. “Here?” Wings closing, she wrapped her short towel tighter about herself.

Sidriel, though, only seemed to become more drowsy. “Tell me,” she said as her eyes closed. “I want to hear how you found evidence that they can both use and not use a creation spark.”

Noel seemed to freeze. “August isn’t sure, Madam Sidriel,” she said, but the salt and heat betrayed her, and her wings drooped, showing her lie.

One golden eye focused on her, and Noel was envious. She’d always wanted to learn how to nictitate one eye at a time. Sidriel’s head angled to stare her down. “Who may or may not have used a spark? And how? Jackson?”

A thread of self-preservation wound through her salt stupor, bringing her awake. “Renee. August’s spark might have healed her.”

Sidriel’s eyes slipped shut in thought, then opened. “Continue.”

“Answers will come faster if August is left to find them. Renee’s lack of injury at the zoo could have been because August wrapped her in his wings, taking the brunt of it all. He’s unsure himself what happened,” she said, tensing at the near falsehood. August clearly knew. “He spends much of his time with her, and it might be that close connection that allowed it if it indeed happened.” Relax your jaw, Noel. If humans can lie convincingly, so can you. “It would be advantageous to know if simply rotating out personnel would prevent humans from learning how to bond with spark energy.” And interspersing it with the truth helps. “August will find an answer with trust long before I can with guile.”

“And keep you out of that hellhole,” Sidriel muttered, her eyes slowly nictitating shut. “But agreed. We can’t afford to lose Earth again.” The old jin pulled her ribbon towel over herself more surely. “What an ugly, fickle species. I can’t think of anything they are good at apart from withstanding their brutal sun. And we will have them there, too, in a generation, if I understand August’s adaptations correctly.”

Noel forced herself to relax as her mix of truth and lies was accepted. “Yes, madam,” she said, spilling a little more salt onto the atomizer. “His latest physical indicates that his body is making great strides in adapting to the heavy solar radiation. His increasingly varied diet is a minor, easily handled issue. We’re seeing substantial shortening in the fingers and toes, but we’re not sure yet if our wings will become vestigial or strengthen to handle the thinner air.” Noel hesitated, remembering August trying to play his flute. “There’s the potential for complete adaptation in several years if he remains where he is.”

“Mmmm.” Sidriel glanced at her wrist holo. “This specter of religion is threatening our smooth transition to Earth, as it did before. The Puck-ridden disaster can’t be allowed to repeat. There aren’t enough resources left here to sustain us until we find another viable world. We were lucky the last time.”

“Yes, Madam Sidriel,” Noel said, eyes averted. “I’m hoping Amos will have some ideas to help correct their misunderstanding.” But asking him while she was all but naked hadn’t been her first choice.

“That…Gorman. He’s a problem,” Sidriel said as if not having heard her.

“Yes, madam.” Noel felt her wings droop despite her effort to maintain her usual posture. “He’s contained at the installation, but the damage has been done.”

Sidriel gave her wings a little shake in amusement. “Downdrafts can always become an updraft. But I agree, the professionally applied twin tools of fear and misinformation have made a problem. Someone feels they are being left out. That’s where we need to apply a focused, soothing balm. But well done with the tools you have.” Sidriel sighed as a soft knock sounded at the door. “I’m going to give you some new ones.”

“Madam?” Noel questioned as Sidriel stood, wings shushing wetly as she gentled them around her body and her towel puddled at her feet.

Puck help me, she’s stark naked behind her wings, Noel thought as she stood as well, one hand gripping her towel tightly to herself.

“Perfect timing as always, Danail,” Sidriel said as the mer came in followed by an older, pale mer in heavy, ornate dress, clearly uncomfortable. “Amos.” Wing knuckles high, Sidriel came forward, the back of her hand extended low for him to touch with his own. “So good of you to come. I hope you don’t mind meeting here, but we are trying to keep the gossipy updrafts to a minimum.”

Amos shifted, his wings beading up in the wet air. “Always a pleasure,” he said, his whistles breathy as he looked everywhere but at Sidriel. “I’ve never been in a salt sauna. It’s rather warm, is it not?”

Sidriel nictitated one eye, almost mocking him. “You’re welcome to disrobe,” she said, and Noel held her towel tighter, peeved at Sidriel. Clearly the holy steward was uncomfortable, and not just because of the heat. The heavy salt was tranquilizing, especially when one was unused to it.

“Yes, Madam Sidriel,” Amos said, and by the door, Danail’s wings drooped at the salt buzz.

“You should meet Noel.” Sidriel gestured to her, and Noel stepped forward, a hand extended. “She’s been instrumental in getting us to Earth again and is proving invaluable in keeping our foothold there.”

“Amos.” Noel managed to click her wing knuckles together as the backs of their hands touched.

“Excuse me a moment?” Sidriel said, and then, without waiting for an answer, paced shakily to Danail, her wings threatening to flash open and expose her as she bobbled.

Noel turned to Amos. “Strong updrafts,” she said, and the uneasy mer bobbed his head. Puck help me. A salt sauna with a religious steward?

“Steady winds,” he responded. “I received your message just before Danail arrived. I’m flattered you’d include me in the chance to help educate a new world on our beliefs, and I’m honored you have asked for my advice.”

Sidriel turned as Danail left, the flush of cooler air refreshing as it eddied about Noel’s bare feet. “That’s not why you are here, Amos,” she said dryly.

Amos’s wings rose. “Why then, Madam Sidriel?”

Sidriel wobbled back, the sharp look in her eyes at odds with her salt-clumsy motion. “Is that the lodestone I asked you to bring?”

Amos stiffened, and the water that had beaded up on his wing hem drained in an ugly sound. Wings tight to his back, he dropped his gaze to his amulet.

Silent, Sidriel held out her hand, and Noel watched, not knowing why Amos’s motions were so reluctant as he pulled it from his neck and let it settle in her grip.

A shudder rippled over Sidriel, a glimpse of smooth, tattooed skin showing before she pulled her wings back up. “I’ve never held one before,” Sidriel said, her words almost slurred. “It’s substantial.”

“It is.” Amos didn’t take his eyes from her.

“What is it?” Noel inched closer, curious.

“It’s a tool.” Sidriel grabbed Noel’s free hand, and Noel gasped, her knees threatening to buckle when the amulet dropped into her palm.

“Madam Sidriel!” Amos called sharply, and the grizzled jin grabbed Noel, yanking her out of his reach. Stumbling, Noel caught her balance. Sidriel’s old fingers were band-tight against her skin, and she pushed them off, backing up as an overwhelming sensation of fullness spiked through her, bringing her creation spark alive.

“Let her adjust!” Sidriel demanded, and Amos’s hands fell to his sides. He stood, water dripping from his clothes and wings, clearly upset as Noel slowly drew her wings about herself again, glad that she hadn’t trusted her modesty to her wings as Sidriel had.

“Well?” the older jin asked, and Noel stared at the amulet, her pulse slowing. It held creation sparks. They slumbered, but they were there.

“H-how many?” she stammered. “How did you get them all in one place?”

Amos inched possessively closer. “It’s said this one holds fifty,” he said, and she blinked in shock. “The jin or mer who carries it has enough energy to snap freely in a world devoid of creation sparks. They were gathered over several generations. Some are said to be over three thousand years old.”

Noel forced her wings down. It was becoming easier. “This is a tool?” she questioned. It was a fortune, certainly. Was it to pay back the portal authority for the sparks she had promised?

“I would think its uses obvious,” Sidriel said, eyes closing as she breathed in the heavy air. “With that in your grasp, you will be able to snap freely while on Earth, to places you’ve never been but can see on a holo. It will allow you to move undetected and, more importantly, unexpectedly and unexplained as you settle questions and soothe fears to further our foothold.”

I can go past the boundaries of the safe-snap zone. But not only that, she could do it with the plausible deniability that she was even there. Noel sent a thought into the amulet, shocked at the responsive surge. Numb, she sat down, focus slack. Sidriel was right. With this, she could go anywhere undetected, move between the worlds with impunity, and take anyone she wanted with her whether they resisted or not. “Thank you,” she whispered, grateful even as she wondered what Sidriel wanted her to do with it.

Noel looked up, surprised when Sidriel shuffled to stand before her, the old female’s long fingers adjusting her towel more surely about her as if she were a child. “This is not yours,” Sidriel warned, and by the door Amos seemed to cringe. “It is a tool. Use it, then bury it under an Earth-side labyrinth so that if we need to abandon Earth, the portal can be reinstated at our will and not the sun and moon’s.”

Feeling overly full, Noel nodded. They’d never lose the Earth again.

Seeing her understanding, Sidriel stepped back, her grip falling from Noel. “Thank you, Amos. Your generosity will not be unremembered.”

Amos started at the obvious dismissal. “Madam Sidriel…”

His eyes were fixed to the amulet in Noel’s hands, and Sidriel stepped in front of it.

“Thank you, Amos,” Sidriel said again, her wings slipping to show more body than was prudent. “You are no longer needed.”

“Madam…” he tried again, stammering to nothing when Sidriel dropped her wings, baring herself completely. He fled, the gust of cool wind he let in washing through Noel to clear her mind.

“Fool.” Sidriel laughed as she went to her towel and wrapped it about herself.

“Thank you, Madam Sidriel,” Noel said softly, staring down at her hands cramped possessively about the amulet. She could feel the energy there. It slumbered but was accessible nevertheless. It would bother her that she was going to bury it in a hidden place on Earth if not for it guaranteeing they would not lose Earth even if they had to abandon it.

“There’s nothing to thank me for,” Sidriel said as her long fingers tucked the end of the wrap within itself. “Amos’s counsel is valuable. If you wish, avail yourself of it to assist you in ridding Earth’s populace of their misunderstanding. But I’ve been studying their history. Logic will not move their religious leaders. Greed and offered power will. I suggest you find what their most influential holy steward wants. Give it to him. Gorman and Tayler, too. Humans are greedy, and that is what will save us.”

Noel nodded as a soft knock came at the door, and Sidriel crossed the room, not a bobble or waver to her sure pace. Noel slowly tucked the amulet behind her towel to hide it, shuddering as her aura took it in. The salt air tickled its way through her, bringing her baser thoughts to the surface and making everything seem possible. She could find Tayler with the power of the combined sparks. Gorman she might consider moving with wealth, but not Tayler. She would offer the human Earth woman something other than power. Justice, maybe.

Thoughts of revenge were thick in Noel’s mind as Sidriel opened the door to show Danail waiting with a winding ribbon of red to wrap around Sidriel. She was leaving.

“Thank you, Madam Sidriel.” Noel stood, the creation sparks making her unsteady.

“Of course.” Sidriel stood in the center of the room, her wings lifted slightly as Danail dipped and wove, expertly dressing the old Neighbor as if he’d done it a thousand times before. “To be clear, use the lodestone to open our way, then bury it at a secret labyrinth so if you fail, we do not lose the Earth. Understand?”

Noel nodded, her thoughts clearing as the cool air from the open door caressed her.

“I see I’ve chosen wisely in giving you the tools to achieve the needed ends.” Sidriel’s bare feet dug deep into the sand floor. “But if there’s any further indication that humans have retained the ability to commune with a creation spark, you will bring them here for further study. It might be something we can pluck from them.”

“Yes, madam. Thank you, Madam Sidriel,” Noel said, but when she looked up, Sidriel was gone.