Tears streaming down her cheeks, Sirin pulled a few sugar cubes from her pocket for Biscuit and kissed Butter’s warm muzzle. She’d been saying goodbye to them for weeks and had been breaking down into sobs anytime she thought of leaving them. “A beautiful, well-trained team like you is a treasure. They’ll take good care of you, my lovelies. I promise I’ll try to come back for you.” She choked out, her throat constricting as she tore herself away from them toward her wagon.
She unlocked the door to her living wagon and snuck inside. The tight confines had never bothered Sirin, and she’d always appreciated the ability to move her home wherever she needed to be. Having no family to speak of had left her with a preference for drifting from place to place, following the winds of her research wherever they might lead. Without her horses, there was no way she could bring her small home. Instead, she removed the small sledge she’d purchased for her excursion and loaded it up with her pack and a few small mementos she couldn’t bear to be without. A small bottle of her father’s favorite cologne, which she used as a pomander when she needed to settle her nerves, A book of silhouettes with a page for each member of her family, and her prayer beads. She’d never been particularly religious, but they were small, light, andfeltlike home.
Sirin stepped out and added her things to the sledge. It looked shockingly empty, but she would purchase the bulk of her supplies for the trip in Pershing. From there, she would follow the map until she crossed into the uncharted area beyond its edges.
Sirin pulled the sledge away from the wagon, its removable wheels (of which she wasquiteproud of inventing) rolling silently, and allowed herself a brief moment to press herself to Butter’s warm side. She breathed the familiar sweet scent, all warm hay and earthy goodness, her chest tight with the pain of leaving them.
Sledge loaded, horses secured, Sirin ventured into the night and took one last look at the mighty Citadel, home to all known lunologists. The massive structure which had dominated her young adulthood loomed in the darkness, on a backdrop of stars. On one side, scaffolding surrounded a new wing. That was the Citadel, always growing. Sirin rubbed at her chest, surprised at the remorse building there. For eighteen years, this place had been “home,” the only one she went back to visit between her travels. Every connection she had to other people had, in some way, originated behind those walls. She grieved a moment for her home, for the inevitable loss of her community of colleagues, then turned away toward her future.
Walkingwasnotfunat first—Sirin’s feet were screaming by the end of each day but she didn’t have time to dawdle, afraid that the someone at the Citadel would notice she’d left and that they’d sent someone after her. A few long days of hiking overland saw her to the remote town of Pershing, situated at the border of civilization. She’d camped outside its fortified walls the previous night, only entering the city at the start of business hours. Gathering supplies had taken most of the morning and she wasfairlycertain she had everything she’d need. Her last stop, she’d decided, would be a warm lunch and a beer on her way out of town; one last toast to civilization. She was growing irritated at being around so many people, she was tired of questioning if each person was going to turn her in; she wanted to head out into the open spaces that beckoned, even though it was mid-day.
She ate a hearty bowl of stew and probably the last warm bread she’d enjoy for a long time. As she finished, she wrapped a few pastries up to eat when she needed cheering and stood with a wave to the innkeeper. It took her a minute to get the ancient woman’s attention as she was pinching the cheeks of a man twice her size. He towered over the other end of the bar, radiating a joy and laughter Sirin could feel wash over her. A cap covered most of his head, but the curls she could see matched his thick white beard, though he didn’t strike her as old enough for it. At the innkeeper’s answering wave, he turned toward Sirin, revealing vibrant blue eyes and pale cheeks flushed pink from laughter.
Sirin swayed toward him. He was beautiful. Vibrant and dynamic in a way that made her unconsciously step closer to the man, drawn in by the sheer magnitude of his presence.
Realizing what she was doing, she shook her head and stopped. No. She had a mission to complete, perhaps the most important ever, and it did not include beautiful, breathtaking men. She snapped her gaze away from his, threw several more coins than required on the counter to make up for her rudeness, and fled from the tavern. She tapped her lunula for stealth and speed, somehow knowing he’d chase her. Her mother had always liked to say that sometimes the Lady would tempt us away from important tasks to test our dedication, and she’d not falter now. If anything, a man so delicious and captivating was a sign that she was on the right path. If she was being tested like this, with a sudden attraction stronger than any she’d ever felt, it surely meant she was headed toward something tremendous—because there wasno wayan attraction that strong was anything but divine in origin.
The houses on the one small street passed in a blur, and she kept thinking she was hearing his liquid honey laugh until she passed through the fortified wall of town. She scoffed at herself, there was no way the man would feel compelled to follow her, they’d barely made eye contact. It wasn’t like he was on an important mission, the Goddess wouldn’t be temptinghimaway from whatever his business was.
Once she was at the edge of the forest, Sirin finally felt like she could breathe properly again. Scrambling into the trees and hitching up her sledge, she tapped additional lunula to help with the load and headed deeper into the forest. At the last moment, she looked over her shoulder for one last look at the wooden walls that protected her from temptation.
She hiked for hours, well into the night, moving as fast as she possibly could. For most of the panicked dash, she’d been tempted to turn around, and found herself making excuses, thinking of things she might have forgotten at the inn. Her wealth of mental modifications meant that instead of a vague impression of the man, she was haunted by a sequence of pristine images. Without closing her eyes, she could see every detail that she’d missed at the moment. She contemplated each curl—wondered about the pure white color of his hair, the way he’d beamed at the innkeeper as she pinched his cheeks rosy.
Each moment she spent remembering him made her more annoyed, her motions jerky as she finally stopped for the night and gathered firewood. Ten years she’d been out of school, during which time she’d met no one half as compelling, no one whostuckin her mind the way he seemed to.
Of course, it had to happen now, right when I’m on the cusp of something great,she fumed as she cast her kindling into a hastily made fire pit.
He was sent to tempt her. It was the only explanation; anything else was ludicrous. Nothing but divine intervention could make her so drawn to him that her feet wanted to turn around and find him hours later. Had it been anything less than her life’s work, she knew she’d have gone back hours ago. For that matter, she knew she’d never have made it out of the tavern. She didn’t know anything about him. She hadn’t even spoken to the man. She hadn’t needed to. Some things you simply knew.
Nothing good ever came without great sacrifice, that was the way of it, and she just needed to persevere. Once she’d proven herself, thoughts of him would drain from her mind and confirm her suspicions. She huddled next to her pitiful fire, her face set in a determined frown. Shewouldprove her dedication to the Lady—gorgeous strangers and dreams of domestic happiness be damned.13
1.Steps that went unused included: Say goodbye to friends, leave a note indicating that I am headed to Meurteau, and leave at dawn, among others.
2.Years of subsequent research have led me to believe that while possible, the timeframe required would be unrealistic.
3.Still has!
4.See my work of satire “How to Be the Parent or Guardian of a Happy Child.”
5.Twenty seven in fact, all of which were at least partially wrong, but twelve were at least partially right.
6.I continue to harbor these concerns and work toward a solution, though one can easily understand why current concerns are significantly more pressing.
7.I still shudder at the memory.
8.134 actually. There is a monument to them in Sanctuary, they kept meticulous records, and that’s something, at least.
9.To this day, I am shocked at how blind I was to these disappearances. I can only justify it by saying that once I decided they were anomalous, my hyperfixation on the problem dismissed any further investigation on the matter.
10.I speak very negatively of Lord Mikail Lagrath here, but in truth, he did more to further the advancement of society than perhaps any single person in our history. He was a champion of innovation and fostered some of the greatest minds our world has seen to adulthood. He died in YPS 1001, defending his students and wouldn’t have had it any other way. May he rest in the Lady’s Arms forever.
11.It must be acknowledged that pre-1001 YPS, Lunologists held an elevated status in Compact society, regardless of whether or not that elevation in status was deserved or warranted. Coming from an isolated island nation, I was eager for my family to benefit. We live in an imperfect world and I am, by no means, exempt.
12.An updated list of recommended supplies is available in my non-fiction work “Traversing the Arctic: Tips and Tricks for Warm Weather Folks.”
13.Alternately, Sirin of the past, she could be shoving the solution to all of your problems in your face.
Chapter two
