Page 12 of The Cerulean Sister
"I am not surprised." 99 nods softly, his way of letting her know it’s not her fault that Allister made sure he was here when we arrived.
"Come! Sit, sit," Allister calls out from a small dining table.
Calliape gives him a pointed look as he holds out a chair for her.
"Forgive an old man, Calliape. I know I am the guest."
"It's fine." She laughs.
I sit next to her, glancing back at the same moment Allister smacks 99's shoulder armor in a half hug.
Allister takes the opportunity and assumed privacy to whisper into his son’s ear, "She's very beautiful."
99 nods in agreement.
I was expecting his father to be as brooding and quiet as him, but they seem to be opposites. Allister is friendly and personable, more like August.
"If you are uncomfortable, we can go,"99 says into my mind’s eye.
"I am comfortable if you are."
"Well, I know how our Calliape is adjusting to Viathan, but tell me, Ferren, do you like living in the capital?"
99 snaps his head to Allister, as if he thinks the question is leading to us following the same path as Calliape in moving here.
"What? Just asking." Allister snorts and raises his palms innocently.
"It's very different from Cosima," I begin.
"Oh, I imagine so!"
"But I really like the library in the capital building. I spend most of my time there, as I did in the Estate."
"Speaking of, could you find another book for me?" Calliape asks.
"Of course, I should have brought one today. I'm sorry."
Calliape has had some strange requests for books in the Viathan library, prayer books used by the priestesses of old, more incantation than prayer. Unnecessary to someone like Calliape, who is naturally gifted, but she finds them interesting, I suppose.
"I've told her she can access any book in the archive through the village town hall," Allister says, leaning back in his chair with a creak.
"It's different and you know it," Calliape responds. "The type of books I am after do not have the same effects when read on a data pad."
"Ah yes, hold a leather-bound book and it practically reads the story to you," Allister teases.
"These types of books have to be read a certain way. Tell him, Ferren."
All three of them suddenly turn their attention to me.
I clear my throat and sit a little straighter in my chair. "There is power in reading a handwritten book, holding the pages, touching the words of the person that put them there. Their emotions are captured in the ink itself, holding that memory foras long as the book remains. If read any other way, on a data pad for example, the words would be just . . . strung together. You would not feel them as you are supposed to. But I would love to see your village’s archive."
Allister pauses as I speak, watching and taking in each word, not thinking of his response, really listening. He waits just a moment after I am finished and smiles like he is pleased. "Anytime, Ferren, and my son tells me you are an expert, so I will default to you for the difference," he concedes, and I know he truly means it.
“See, I told you your Viathan machines can't do everything."
"Not this again! They are solar panels, for Mother's sake!" He playfully throws his hands up and then leans in closer to me like he is telling me a secret. "I've tried to convince Calliape to let me install them here."
"The answer will always be no," she says.
