Page 2 of Last of Her Name
“What?” She turns and squints at the horizon, where the astronika’s growing larger in the distance.
The black ship must have passed through Estonryan air space for security clearance, but instead of touching down in the city, it turned around, heading straight to our little town.
Seconds later, the astronika swoops overhead, a low, silent shadow. This close, I can see the call sign stamped on its sides, along with the emblem of the Galactic Union: nine stars in a circle, representing the nine Jewel systems. Each one a different color, with purple Amethyne between green Emerault and red Rubyat. The ship descends into the valley, where Afka is huddled between the hills.
“That’s weird.” I break into a grin. I’ll probably never get another chance to see an astronika up close. “Let’s go check it out.”
But Clio hesitates.
“Oh, it’ll be fine!” I prod. “Don’t you want to see your handsome Alexandrian bachelor up close?”
Clio’s lips curl into a slow, wicked smile. Then she raises an eyebrow. “You want to change first?”
I look down at my outfit: black tank top beneath a ragged jersey, baggy gray cargo pants tucked into dusty boots—in other words, my usual ensemble. I like that I can carry my tools in my pockets without having to haul around an extra bag. You never know when one of the vineyard lorries is going to break down, and anyway, the smell of engine oil that’s permanently worked into the fabric keeps away the gnats.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “This is how I always look.”
“Yeah. Like a sentient toolbox.” She releases a puff of air and rolls her eyes. “Forget it. Just so long as we stop at Ravi’s and get strawberry ice after.”
“My treat,” I promise her. “Now where did Elki get to?”
Slipping my fingers between my teeth, I give a sharp whistle. Moments later, the foliage behind us rustles, and the large mantibu comes ambling out of the trees, his saddle knocked askew by the low branches. I run my hand down his side, from the reddish fur on his shoulders to the leathery skin on his hindquarters. Then I leap into the saddle, holding out a hand for Clio, pulling her up with practiced ease. She’s wearing a knee-length blue sundress over white leggings, and her skirt bunches around her waist as she straddles the mantibu. Below us, Elki grumbles and huffs, shaking his antlers until we’re settled in.
We follow the dirt track that runs between the vineyard and the slinke forest. Birds flit overhead, their long, scaly tails flicking in frustration as they try to get the grapes. Their every attempt is foiled by the invisible shield projected over the vines; at a bird’s touch, it flashes and sizzles, a grid of white that fades as soon as the bird flees. No harm is done to the birds, but they still squawk angrily, dashing their tiny horns in frustration.
A rumble of hooves catches my ear, and I peer into the rows of grapevines to see a blurry shape racing toward us—a mantibu doe, with a rider clinging to her back.
I glance at Clio over my shoulder. “Trouble incoming. Try not to make a fool of yourself, will you?”
“Ooh,” Clio purrs, her eyes going soft. “Forget strawberry ice. I found something yummier.”
The boy perched in the mantibu’s saddle rides with easy grace, reins tight in one hand. Sunlight glints off the pale horns atop his head. He’s dressed in tight-fitted riding pants with a loose gray tunic, and his boots are glued to the stirrups. He’s so intent on the timer in his other hand, he doesn’t notice us ahead.
“Whoa!” I shout. “Pull up, Pol!”
Mantibu and rider burst through the security shield. It flickers and parts, resealing behind them and fading into invisibility as the boy reins in, pulling his mount into a tight circle.
“Stacia! Sorry. Didn’t see you there.”
He and the mantibu are both breathing hard as they pull up alongside us, and sweat dampens his shirt, making the fabric cling to his skin. His hair tumbles in dark curls around his horns, shining with the grapeseed oil I know he slathers on every morning.
“Did you see that?” he says, grinning as he waves the timer. “New record. Tinka’s ready for the Afkan Cup. We have a real chance of winning this year.”
“And to think, three months ago no one could even get a saddle on her.” I shake my head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” he laughs, scratching the creature’s ears. “Sheer bribery. Feed her enough and she turns to putty. Don’t you, girl?”
“Not unlike Stacia,” Clio points out.
“Oh, you’re a funny one, Clio Markova.” I elbow her while Pol gives a weak grin, as if he’s afraid I’ll jump on him if he dares laugh.
Pol slides to the ground and rubs the mantibu’s neck, and the beast swats him playfully with her scaled tail. Laughing, he reaches through the security shield to grab a cluster of grapes, which he feeds to Tinka and Elki both.
“We’re on our way to Afka,” I say to Pol. “Come with us.”
“I don’t know. I’ve got to clean the stables, and there’s that trellis by the pond that needs repairing …”
“Pol, you never stop working. Come have fun with us! Like the old days. Anyway, I don’t think Clio’s going to take no for an answer.”