Page 38 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

“Are you trying to rile me again?” Placing the plates in the sink, I turn to him, putting my hands on my hips. Locane gives me an impassive look and says nothing. “How do you know about the gems?”

I turn to the sink, starting the work of cleaning the dishes.

“My father.” Locane takes a cleaned plate from me and begins to dry it with a small towel from the bar under the sink. “He taught me everything I know. Mostly.”

At the thought of him somberly telling me all his family is gone, I decide not to push.

My mind drifts to that beautiful picture I became so fixated on. “There’s a lovely picture I found in there that I couldn’t tear my eyes from.The Great Plains of Dhystros. And that is now the Plains of Ire, yes?”

“Yes,” he says simply, drying the second plate and adding it on top of the other. He drapes the towel over his shoulder and turns to lean against the counter. Locane crosses his arms, and I glance up at his face. His dark eyes bore into mine with intensity.

I swallow and continue. “Did your father draw the picture? There was no artist’s signature.” Leaving the kitchen, I turn down the flicker lamps on my way out, and Locane follows.

“No, that was not done by my father. I believe it was done long ago by a Capturer. The gift includes photographic memory and the ability to transfer images from their mind with an inky substance through the hand.”

I gnaw my lip in thought. “I would have liked to see what the Plains of Dhystros were like.” Taking a seat on my favorite couch, I hug a soft, blue pillow to myself. To my dismay, Locane sits right next to me in favor of one of the other many seats scattered throughout the room.

“Yes, I would have, too.”

Locane extends his arm over the back of the couch, his fingertips dangerously close to my shoulder. He runs a pad over a hanging lock of long hair, soft as a feather. I freeze, unsure of how to react, but he saves me from needing to by quickly drawing his arm back and casually draping it over the back of the couch. I gulp down my nerves that came with the delicate contact.

“I believe Dhystros’ gem was left on our Continent.” Locane drops that information as casually as if he’s talking about the weather.

An emerald in a cave flashes through my mind, and I try to school my reaction before I give myself away.

“Dhystros is one of the gods?” I wrack my brain for information on the gods, but the only name I seem to know of is Ellhora—that of the Mother. “Do the other gods have names? Are all their names common knowledge?”

Locane sighs and rolls his eyes. “I should have known you’d have a thousand questions for one simple statement. The Fates must really be laughing at me having to deal with you.”

My face heats. “That was not a simple statement! That statement pretty much begs for questions to be asked. And maybe I wouldn’t have to bombard you with questions if you wouldn’t give me such simple or cryptic answers that lead to more questions,” I say in exasperation. “And here’s another question, the Fates? What is that?”

I’m heated to the point where I’m struggling to string together coherent sentences. This only fans my flames. The more I try to think and wrap my head around anything, the less anything makes sense.

My headache returns.

“Dhystros is one of the gods. Yes, they all have names. Despite most factual recorded histories being destroyed, the gods’ names did live on: Ellhora, the Mother of Life and Creation; Dhystros, the God of Creatures; Mattyas, the God of Duality; and Serraphina, the Goddess of Fertility and Health. We are all but children of the Fates, gods included.”

I think again of my vision I had about the emerald being created and wonder if this could be the gem he thinks may be on our Continent. Could we be so close to finding one already? I almost tell Locane about it, but stop just as I’m about to speak when unease grips my gut so tightly I’m overtaken by a wave of nausea.

“What? You were about to say something and now you look ill.” Locane sits up, studying me with rapt attention; that air of tainted familiarity soaks his aura.

“Does my Nana know about the gems?” That question seems like a good one to explain to him my suddenly becoming ill.

My eyes pierce Locane, really drinking in his appearance, as I wait for his answer. He still very much strikes as being unwell. In fact, his pallor is worse than it was this morning. I don’t know how I didn’t notice his sickly coloring when I studied him in the kitchen while cleaning up dinner.

My mind, awareness, and rational thinking only seem to work less than half the time. That reignites my crushing suspicions of him, especially remembering what he told me earlier about what he can do. What he has done.

“Yes,” he states simply.

“And does she know that I might be useful in finding them?”

A short pause and then, “Yes. She knows.”

My heartbeat kicks up a notch, and I suck in a breath. “Did she ever tell me about all of this?” My heart thunders in my chest in anticipation of his answer.

“I don’t know. I just know that whether she told you or not, she was holding you back.” That disapproval he had when speaking of Nana before has returned to his tone along with a sneer.

Looking at Locane warily, I state, “You know her.” It isn’t a question.