Page 25 of Spectral Seas (Spectral Worlds #2)

T HE THREE ENTERED the chamber, empty except for a wooden table, the six chairs surrounding it, and the single, blue glass-paned porthole window.

Leta slowly spun around. “Another waiting room,” she said. “Great.”

““Sss’kyrone will be along soon,” said Abby. “Let’s just have a seat.”

“Sss’kyrone?” asked Soren.

“The abbot. He’s reasonable, as Indici go. Keep in mind that during the war, the Indici—unlike the Viridians—were reluctant allies. They’ve never liked outsiders.”

“Reluctant,” said Soren. “That’s a word. As I remember, the Blue Plane was occupied by the Alpha Plane.”

“By their invitation. But yes, I say reluctant because they hated us, but they hated the Omni more. We were fortunate, really. We couldn’t have won the war without them, and they know it.”

“We,” said Soren. “You mean the Mortals.”

“Well, let’s just say that without their collaboration, things wouldn’t have turned out the way they did.” Abby took a seat in the chair beneath the porthole and raked his fingers across the tabletop. “This place may appear backward but the Indici technology is the basis for organic synthetics. They’ve not only helped us with crystal technology, they’ve helped feed the homeland.”

It was true that Abby was no stranger to the Blue Plane, and that his relationship with the Indici was as complex as any other he’d had during the war. He’d first come as a soldier, fighting in the mist, securing the precious sapphire crystals; then later, the same diplomatic mission that had sent him to Viridis had brought him here. And though a century had since passed, the chamber was as he remembered. It was at the same very table that he, the syndicate rep, and the abbot, Sss’kyrone, dealt the diplomacy required for peace—for the Homeland.

They didn’t have to wait long before they were joined by another monk. He was carrying a tray upon which was a bowl of fruit, a pitcher of what Abby suspected was water, and three cups. The monk set the contents of the tray on the table and filled the cups with the contents of the pitcher.

When the monk left, Leta was the first to partake. She grabbed a blue spherical fruit from the bowl and bit into it. “This is delicious,” she said. “Do you know what it’s called?”

Abby flashed a crooked smile and said, “A blueberry.”

“Ha, ha,” said Soren. “Blueberry. That’s good.” He reached for a fruit of his own.

“You like that?” said Abby. “I didn’t think you were able to smile.”

“I smile at many things,” said Soren. “When they are funny. ”

This time, it was Leta’s turn to laugh. “When they are funny,” she repeated.

All three laughed at that.

“You have me,” said Abby.

“Seriously,” said Leta. “Do you know what these are called?”

“No,” said Abby. “The Indici monks mastered syn food a millennia ago. It’s tough to grow things in this climate.”

“Whatever they are,” said Soren, “they’re delicious.”

“Agreed,” said Abby.

“They are cuh-alled, cuhalay ,” came a wispy voice from the door. As the monk approached the table, the three stood. “Please sssit,” he said. He gestured them down with his right hand, then placed it on the table to ease himself into the chair across from Abby. “We grow them here. I’m glad you enjoy them.”

Abby’s eyes were drawn to the worry beads in the monk’s hand. He wanted to chin-chip to Leta that this was the monk from the bench, but his mouth was full of fruit.

“Hrm,” Abby cleared his throat. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with us. I’m Abernathy Squire, this is Leta Serene, and Soren Maltese.”

The two Umbra offered a joint, “Hello.”

The monk raised his hands and pulled his hood back to reveal a smooth, shiny, hairless, earless, scaled reptilian head with flaming blue orbs in the sockets where eyes should have been. The creature said nothing. Rather, he opened his mouth enough to let his long, thin, forked tongue flick out, taste the air, and gather the scent of the visitors before him. The reptoid’s tongue flicked rapidly a second and third time. Then with a tilt of his head to the side, the creature spoke in the slow whisper hiss way of his kind. “Abernathy Sss’quire,” he said. “We’ve met before. ”

“We have?” asked Abby. “I’m sorry. I don’t seem to remember meeting you. What did you say your name is?”

“My apologiesss to you. I am Sss’kallion, acting abbot. And no, of courssse, you wouldn’t remember me. I would’ve never lowered my hood while page to our father, Abbot Sss’kyrone.”

“Oh,” said Abby. “That explains it then. I was expecting Sss’kyrone to join us. Is he in good health?”

“The finessst. The abbot is on pilgrimage. If we could reach him, I’m sssure he’d sssend hisss goodwill.”

“There’s no need for that,” said Abby. “I trust you know why we’re here.”

“I wasss updated,” said Sss’kallion. With his hand still resting on the table, he began to twirl the loop of stringed beads between his long, blue scaled fingers. “Though I’m not sssure why it was necessary for you to bring along the Viridiansss.”

“Well, the Bureau thought it—”

“They are the betrayersss,” snapped Sss’kallion. “Defilersss of what we hold holy.” He flipped the beads twixt his fingers—once, twice, thrice—then, after the last clap of the beads, said in a calmer tone, “But we oblige. Our order isss here to ssserve.”

“That’s excellent,” said Abby. “Per the relay, we simply need to visit the Crystal Gardens. And that’s it. It’s for your safety, really.”

“Viridiansss are going to enssshure our sssafety?”

“I assure you that the Viridis mines have undergone inspection as well.”

Sss’kallion twirled the beads. “I sssee. I believe I understand now. They want to be sssure that you inspect our gardensss with the sssame ssscrutiny.”

Abby shrugged. “You understand completely.”

Sss’kallion’s tongue slithered out, then returned. “Far be it for usss to come off asss ssso petty,” he said. “Accommodationsss have been prepared asss well asss a full dinner. You’ll sssleep, then tomorrow, after the morning prayer, all of usss, including the Viridiansss, will travel to the mine.”

“Thank you,” said Abby. “That would be fine.”

Sss’kallion flipped his beads again, then in an exhibit of reflex, he clutched them into his fist rather than let them slide over his long limber fingers.

Before Abby could say another word, the acting abbot stood.

Abby and the Umbra rose from their seats as Sss’kallion exited the room.

~*~