Page 58 of Requiem of Silence

He figured he would just have to buy additional clothing and supplies once they got there. Fortunately, money wasn’t a problem. He had a full wallet and a virtually unlimited line of credit at the Bank of Elsira, money that he would be able to access in Yaly, when needed.

So he made his way to the docks with just a small knapsack. Roshon and Ani were leaving this morning, so he had a good cover story for being down there. Papa had risen earlier and was already at the busy port when Varten arrived, staring up at a Raunian-built ship named theRapskalawith misty eyes.

“You’d think after seeing your faces every day of your lives it wouldn’t be so hard to go without.” His throat sounded clogged.

Varten stuffed his hands in his pockets, flustered by his father’s display of emotion. While Ani and her two-person crew did their final checks, Roshon came down the ramp to stand on Papa’s other side.

“It’s not a long trip,” he said. “Just two months and we’ll be back.” He was happy, happier than Varten could remember seeing him.

“So long as you two don’t elope,” Papa chided, bringing Roshon into an embrace.

“No promises.” Roshon pulled away and turned to Varten.

“Stay out of trouble,” they said to each other in unison. Roshon shook his head, and Varten gave a half smile. He hugged his brother one more time, then stepped back.

Roshon looked at them both, then nodded and made his way up the ramp to the ship’s deck. The invisible string that connected the twins grew taut. Varten knew it wouldn’t snap, but it tugged at his chest and constricted his heart.

Papa wiped a tear from his eye and the two of them stood in silence until theRapskalapulled out of its berth and headed off into the endless ocean.

“Two months isn’t so long,” Varten offered.

“No, I suppose not.” His father looked up, grim. “And you are certain you don’t want to come with me?”

“I am. This is the best idea you’ve had in years. The refugees need healers. Translators. They needyou.I will be fine.”

Papa was headed up north to one of the new settlements to volunteer and help the Lagrimari adjust. Varten wanted to help, but he wasn’t an Earthsinger. He could always teach or translate, but was inevitably met with suspicion and fear by Lagrimari who viewed him as just another Elsiran. The effort of breaking down the walls of distrust with kindness and humor shouldn’t have been taxing, but it was. Just another reminder that no matter where he went, he didn’t truly belong.

“Things are changing, but they always would have eventually,” Varten said. “They’re good changes. We all just need time to get used to them. You won’t be that far away. The refugee community in the north is what, an hour by auto? I live in a palace, Papa. I’ll be fine.” He grinned, hoping to put his father at ease. He couldn’t lie to the man, since Earthsingers could sense it, so he injected all of his sincerity into his words.

Papa squeezed him into a tight hug. They were of a height now, and a similar size, almost. The old man’s hair was fully gray, though it hadn’t been two years earlier, and he still looked just as strong as he was in his son’s memory. A couple of years in prison would change anyone’s hair color. Varten was surprised his own ginger locks hadn’t shifted a shade or two. But he’d been altered in other ways.

Papa stepped away, a serious expression on his face. “This is the beginning of you all starting your own lives. Roshon off on an adventure. And you—I know that you will figure things out in due time. All I want for you is to live. Promise me you’ll do that? Live as much life as you can.”

Varten swallowed and nodded. “I will, Papa.” Guilt punched him in the gut. Should he tell someone about this trip?

He’d told Jasminda that he was going with Papa up north, and she’d seemed relieved. Papa believed he was staying here with hissister. Telling either of them about the journey could not only put them in danger if the Goddess truly was untrustworthy, it could give them both false hope about the possibility of restoring Songs. For even if he and Zeli managed to access the Archives, there was no guarantee the answer they sought was even there. Best to keep quiet until they had something real to share.

After giving the retreating ship one last look, Papa said his final good-byes to Varten and went to catch his bus. Varten settled onto a bench, out of the way of the bustle, watching it orbit around him.

The port was peppered with people from all over the world speaking in their languages, haggling, yelling, commanding, and laughing. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes to take in the intermingling smells. The salt water and brine, a sour odor that he couldn’t quite place, aromas of spices and different foods wafting in from the market just a few blocks away. He’d sat there only a few minutes when a familiar scent threaded its way through the rest.

Varten opened his eyes to find Zeli before him. She was no longer in her Sisterhood blue robe and pinafore, having exchanged it for a simple gray frock. Her hair was in dozens of thin braids hitting her shoulders.

Varten grinned. “Nice disguise.”

She looked down at herself a bit self-consciously. “I took it from the Sisterhood charity bin. I suppose I am a poor Lagrimari refugee, so it’s not exactly stealing.”

“No, not stealing at all.”

She looked around, dubious. “You said you had a plan for us to book passage? Why couldn’t we get a ride with your brother anyway?”

“Roshon may not be an Earthsinger, but he knows when I’m lying. There’d be no way we wouldn’t have to answer a thousand questions a day about what we were doing.”

She pursed her lips and nodded. Varten tore himself away from her to look back at the ships. Because of the embargo, port traffic was light. Still, he’d seen a few vessels that looked promising.

“Booking a trip on a regular passenger vessel would leave too much of a paper trail,” he continued. “We’d need to show identification and fill out all kinds of paperwork. If we want to be sure not to be followed, we’ll just need to find someone willing to take us on for the right price. Check out berth twenty-two.”

Zeli turned in the direction he pointed and her eyes grew big. The ship he’d scoped out was a luxurious-looking vessel, a yacht, no doubt a pleasure craft for someone rich. They had plenty of space, he figured, and might not mind taking on a few extras for the right price.

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