Plague of Mybyncia (5 page)

“Fychu,” the chancellor smiles, “good to see
you again.”

“And you, Chancellor.”

“We have much to discuss. Come,” he motions
him away. “I will show you to your resting quarters. Salva will
assist the females.”

“Separate quarters?” I ask.

“Males and females house separately,” Sampson
explains, “You’ll be in the same area, just on opposite sides of
the floor. Chancellor,” he clasps his shoulder and leans in, “are
you sure it is well protected?”

“I assure you, Fychu, the Shadow Bag will not
be discovered.”

“It’s not in the Southern Waters,” Clarence
winces, “is it?”

“It is probably best we do not know,” Qippert
shoots him a look and then glances to Sampson for confirmation. “It
is Mybyncia’s Gift and for their knowledge alone. Blovid was never
told…nor was I.”

“Very well,” Sampson agrees, “but the last
thing we need is for the Vermix to get a-hold of it,” he looks to
the chancellor. “Please let us know if you need additional
assistance.”

“Why do they want it?” Tucker asks.

Sampson, Clarence, Qippert and the chancellor
exchange glances. Just as Sampson’s about to dive into the
explanation, Salva appears.

“Females of Harrizel,” she looks to us. “You
may follow me to your quarters for some rest and later, I will
assist in dressing you for the feast.”

“But how will we be able to understand?” I
turn to Sampson, motioning to my headgear which is propped against
my hip.

“Your new attire. It’s designed—just like
your suits—to pick up different frequencies,” he frowns suddenly,
cradling my arm in his hands. He looks to Salva, “She has a deep
wound that runs from her elbow to her wrist. She will need it taken
care of immediately. Here,” he reaches into his black suit and,
removing a small vial, he hands it to Salva. “Run some over the
wound now, and again before the feast. A quarter of the bottle will
do the trick.”

“What is it?”

“A medical ointment of my own making. I find
it highly effective,” he glances at me. “She won’t need much
else.”

“Yes, Fychu,” Salva bows.

“I’m fine. Don’t waste the Vilbrees on
me.”

“It’s not wasting,” Sampson shakes his head,
“and you need it. Fallon, you take care of that arm. And ladies,”
he grins, looking from Pratt to Mae, “see you tonight.”

Already jumping into conversation, Chancellor
Keller leads Sampson to the far end of the golden room. Clarence,
Qippert and the Rogues take off, but Reid hesitates, focused on my
arm. A lump rolls down his throat and then his eyes fly to mine,
scorching me. Finally breaking an intense stare, he turns to follow
Tucker and the others.

“Females,” Salva calls, “we must leave the
Great Hall and go to your quarters. Come,” she escorts us down a
new corridor that leads out of the grand dome. “This way.”

After a few minutes of following the mayan
down the new passage, Pratt breaks the rigid silence. “So how come
we have separate quarters?”

“It is not customary to share the same living
space.”

“Why not?”

“We do not feel it is decent. There is too
much distraction.”

“From what?

“What is important,” she looks at Pratt.
“Protection.”

“Of the queen?” I ask.

“Of everything we hold dear. Our people. Our
customs…” another moment and then, “our
Gift
.” “Do all
Mybyncians know its whereabouts?” I ask. “Or only the
chancellor?”

Salva stops and speaks softly over her
shoulder, “We trust in our queen and our chancellor. They alone
carry the burden of protecting what was bestowed to us,” she finds
my eyes with her bright orange ones. “It will never be found by
foreign hands. It will
never
be moved. Come,” she starts
walking again, “we are nearly to your quarters.”

When we reach the end of the lit tunnel, we
find ourselves in another great, domed room, a quarter of the size
of the one we just left. Shelled mosaics climb the rounded walls
and ornate chairs carved from the golden coral sit around the
room’s central focus—an enormous circular bed draped in burgundy
linen.

“This is where you will stay while you are
here.”

“This whole space is for
us
?” Pratt
asks wide-eyed and awed.

“As we are not currently hosting any other
guests, yes, this is for you.”

“And we sleep there?” I gesture to the bed.
“Together?”

“It is custom for mayans and miyons to sleep
in large groups. It encourages a sense of community,” her eyes drop
to my arm. “Let me see your wound so I may address it as the Fychu
requests.”

I roll up the black sleeve of my suit,
presenting the dampened bandage and she unwraps it quickly, tossing
it aside. Gently running the Vilbrees over the cut, my skin
instantly responds to the cooling sensation and I’m happy Sampson
pushed to have it taken care of. Salva applies a bit more as Mae
steps closer, pulling at her fingers.

“What if a mayan and miyon want to be alone?”
she bites her lip. “Like…
alone?
”

“For what reason?”

“You know…”Mae blushes, “to— if they
want…”

“How do you repopulate your planet?” I
ask.

Salva pauses. After a moment, she shrugs,
refusing to look up as she finishes with my arm, “The normal way.
We do not find it decent to discuss such things,” she jets to a
stand, heading for the only exit. “I shall be back in a little
while to change you for the feast. Rest for now.”

Once she’s gone, Pratt, Mae and I look at one
another with a shrug. We alternate between relaxing on the bed or
pacing around the large quarters and in no time, Salva returns,
carrying something.

“Time to dress for the feast.”

“Why are we having a feast if you were just
attacked?” Pratt peeks into her hands.

“There is a feast every night. It is our way
of celebrating life. But tonight, for the Fychu’s arrival, Queen
Ravan has requested certain delicacies. Here,” Salva distributes a
pair of iridescent shells attached to a string of white pearls, and
a long cobalt fabric to each of us. The shell bras are the same
that the queen and princesses wore earlier. “Normally, you would
wear coral, but as you are
honored
guests, you may don the
shells.” She hands them over and Mae and Pratt take theirs
immediately.

“Cool!” Pratt exclaims.

“Um…” Mae gulps, panic in her eyes as she
examines the garments. “Is this it?”

“This is traditional attire for honored
guests,” Salva looks confused.

“It’s fine,” I toss Mae a look that says I’m
as uncomfortable with this wardrobe choice as she is. But what can
we do?

Withdrawing to the opposite end of the room,
I step out of the black suit. Turning around, I pull off my top and
bra, quickly applying the shell brazier which is surprisingly warm
against my skin. Reaching for the blue fabric, I hold it against my
waist, trying to figure out how to fashion it around myself.

“Here,” Salva holds the cloth out for me.

I slip out of my jeans and she wraps the soft
material around me. It runs from my hips to my ankles but with two
slits high up my legs, I feel incredibly exposed. How can I go out
and face a feast with only this to shield me? Fighting the urge to
wrap my arms around myself, I keep my hands by my side, watching as
Salva assists Pratt and Mae.

Once they’re dressed and ready, Salva returns
to my side, a clip of pearls in her right hand. She pulls my dark
curls back, slipping the accessory into them at the crown of my
head. She withdraws, examining her work.

“Alright,” Salva decides. “You are all
ready.”

“Will the boys be there?” Pratt crosses the
room to us, Mae trailing behind her. Both have the same pearl clip
in their hair and are barefoot, just like me.

“All the males will be present first,” Salva
explains. “It is customary for the females to arrive second.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Why should the Queen have to wait? Now,” she
leads us out of the tunnel, “you will be fed Glippis eye and Brekin
tongue—the queen’s favorite dishes. They were prepared on behalf of
Blovid, but as you are here in his stead, the feast will commence
with you and the Fychu as our honored guests.”

“Are we actually eating eyeballs?” Pratt
winces while Mae struggles to yank her blue skirt higher.

“The Glippis is only found in the Eastern
waters, so due to its rarity, it is almost
never
served.
Again, this was intended to be a great feast for Blovid, who had
indicated his adoration of these dishes.”

“Do you have any idea where he went?” I ask
as Mae wraps her arms around her stomach, trying to bridge the
distance between her shell bra and cobalt skirt. She drops her arms
but a second later, tugs the fabric higher again. “Did he say
anything?”

“Not to us,” Salva shakes her head. “Qippert
has been told, but keeping Blovid hidden is the most important
thing right now. According to Chancellor Keller, he is the last
remaining Arizal Leader for Dellapalania. It is
dire
that he
is kept alive.”

“Why?” Pratt asks. “He’s not a
Mybyncian.”

“If Blovid is located, the war will end in
favor of the Vermix,” Salva shakes her head. “We cannot have
that.”

“Because they were searching for the Shadow
Bag?” I ask. “What is that?”

“It is our Gift,” she pauses, tossing a
glance over her sage shoulder. With a deep inhale, she keeps her
words low, “They knew Blovid was not kept in the Southern Waters
and yet they attacked. They are looking for it. And by doing so,
they have violated international law,” she takes a breath, summing
up. “If Blovid is located, he will be killed and the Arizal
Dofinikes will fall. And then, nothing will stop Reuzkimpart from
striking us. Come,” she starts again, “we are nearly to the Great
Hall for the feast.”

We walk for a moment in silence before Pratt
speaks up. “And after?”

“Hmm?”

“What happens after the feast?”

“There is a bit of socializing and then we
will return to our quarters for the night.”

“What about the others?” I ask. “Will we see
them tomorrow morning?”

“Your separation only consists in sleeping.
You will be reunited with your group once the sun rises.”

Mae has her arms wrapped around her stomach
again, her head and eyes lowered. I barely nudge her with my elbow.
“You doing okay?”

She looks up, startled. “It’s just—do I look
okay?” she glances over herself. “I always wore a one-piece.”

“You look fine.”

“I wish I had something to put over
this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I shrug with a frown.
“We’re all wearing the same thing.”

“But—”

“Here we are,” Salva leads us out of the
tunnel and back into the same Great Hall as earlier. “This way,”
she navigates us through the thicket of quietly chattering
Mybyncians and toward Sampson and Clarence who are conversing with
Qippert and the blue-haired chancellor.

I’m about to ask Clarence about the Rogues
when I see them carving their way through the crowd to us.

My heart stops.

Reid is in nothing but a loin-cloth. It’s the
same cobalt as my skirt but while mine reaches my ankles, his goes
no further than his knees. Behind him, Tucker, Booker, Werzo and
Jace appear, all donned in the same revealing fashions.

“Fallon?” Pratt bumps into me.

I don’t even realize I’ve stopped, my mouth
going dry at the sight of Reid’s perfectly sculpted chest and his
strong, carved arms. I gulp, aware I’m probably drooling, but I
can’t help it. I know I’ve seen it before—seen him, like this
before—but memory doesn’t do it justice when I’m faced with the
sweet reality of his physicality. My blood boils, my heart thumping
frantically in my chest and all I can do is stare.

“Fallon?” Pratt asks again as the boys
approach.

Reid’s eyes flicker over me, a lump rolling
down his throat.

“Ladies,” Werzo smiles, drinking in the sight
of Mae and me. His focus dips to our shell bras, like he’s trying
to see through them. It makes me want to cover myself but Mae’s
already on it, shielding herself with her arms.

“Nice loin-cloth,” I say.

“I know,” Jace glances around the room,
studying the bare attire of the mayans. “Too bad there’s separate
sleeping quarters,” he pauses, eyeing a young, voluptuous mayan
with flowing turquoise hair.

She’s right past Sampson and Chancellor
Keller, laughing with a set of other very pretty mayans. Werzo and
Booker follow Jace’s stare, excited grins erupting at the sight of
so much exposed sage skin. The mayan with turquoise hair finally
notices Jace watching her and she instantly blushes a deep
scarlet.

“Oh yeah…” Werzo’s mouth curves into a greedy
smile. “This is going to be a
good
night.”

“We’re not here for that,” Tucker furrows his
brows, clearly aggravated with his Rogues. He and Reid are the only
two refusing to look.

“They didn’t say we
weren’t
here for
that…” Werzo counters, licking his lips as the group of mayans
disappear through the crowd, the turquoise-haired one offering Jace
a teasing, challenging look.

“No.” Tucker makes his decision final.

Jace’s mouth drops to say something but at
the last second, he closes it, keeping his comment to himself. His
hungry eyes follow after her, his mind already working out how to
get around Tucker’s refusal.

I look at Reid.

My body is enflamed at the sight of his eyes
scanning it. He’s drinking me in, just like I did to him, but he
still refuses to speak. He only stares, something playing behind
his eyes and suddenly, Clarence is here.

“Alright,” he indicates the four vacant
thrones, “the queen will sample her food first, followed by her
three daughters. After that, we’ll be allowed to eat.”