“At least finish your eggs and toast, Adahlia! You’ve barely even touched your breakfast,” Mrs. Highstreet says with a tiny smile. “Where are you headed in such a big hurry anyway?”
Adahlia shovels a forkful of eggs into her mouth and then takes a large bite of her toast. She returns her mother’s kind smile with one of her own. After the food in her mouth is thoroughly chewed, she answers her mother’s question as honestly as possible.
“I’m working on a project. Kind of a muse for my future artwork. I won’t be long. I’ll be down by the creek. I promise to be back in time for our lunch together.”
Leaning across the table, Adahlia offers her mother a slender pinky. “Pinky promise. And you know I never break a pinky promise.”
Mrs. Highstreet smiles even more widely and wraps her pinky around Adahlia’s. “You haven’t let me down yet. Have fun, kiddo!”
“Okay, Mom!” Grabbing what remains of her toast from the plate, Adahlia collects her knapsack and rushes for the door.
-
-
“Sotet? I’m here,” Adahlia calls softly. She whirls around slowly, searching for her mythic friend. When he does not appear, she calls a little louder. “Sotet? Sotet? I am here. Sotet!”
A loud trill to her left. Adahlia turns to face the sound. A shrike, a different shrike, stands about a meter away. The shrike’s plumage is coated with flecks of silver paint, and it brandishes a sword and bandolier. A helmet emblazoned with a red-winged crest sits upon its feathered head. Adahlia takes a single step forward, but the shrike bristles noticeably. Adahlia freezes in her tracks. She raises both hands in the air.
“I mean you no harm. I am only here to see Sotet. We arranged to meet here. Where is my friend? Is he okay?”
The shrike does not speak. It reaches into the bandolier slung across its chest and removes a small vial of silver dust. Adahlia beams with excitement.
“Are you going to take me to him?” she inquires— taking a couple of timid steps in the new shrike’s direction.
Still silent, the shrike closes the distance between itself and Adahlia. It pours out a small dose of the silver powder and blows it into Adahlia’s face. She sputters once, twice, and then faints.
_
_
“Adahlia! Adahlia…Wake up, little one. Surely, sleeping dust doesn’t last this long? Of course, I’ve never used it on such a tiny human….So, I wouldn’t know. Adahlia, do wake up! I’m desperately in need of your help. I’m afraid without it; I might very well lose my standing in the clan….And my head!” Sotet chitters excitedly by Adahlia’s side.
They are both being held in a small room. A cell for shrike defendants who have not yet seen trial. Adahlia slowly starts to come around—aroused from her forced slumber by the soft trilling of Sotet’s voice. As soon as her eyes open, she smiles freakishly wide and sits up on the cot.
“Sotet!” She embraces him firmly.
Sotet strokes the top of Adahlia’s head with a wing before resting his feathered cheek upon the crown of her hair. His voice is soft and reassuring.
“I’m glad to see you are well, little one. I was worried Zorobo had used too much of his sleeping dust. He does love using it just a bit too much. But, you didn’t hear that from me.”
Adahlia manages a small giggle and looks around. Immediately she becomes alarmed. She gazes into Sotet’s large eyes and tears begin to well in her own.
“Where are we, Sotet? What has happened? Is this because of me?” Adahlia begins to cry.
Sotet pulls her into another hug and squeezes her tight.
“No, little one. You are not to blame. If anyone is to blame…It is me. I broke the rules of the clan. I did not consider the possible consequences of my actions. I did not foresee this. I acted with emotion. I was impulsive. I simply could not stand by and let those girls find you again. So, I broke our most sacred rule. I did not know I was observed. For that, I must face trial. The worst that will happen…I will lose my rank within the clan. Or…perhaps…My head. But, I will have done the right thing. I am sure it will not come to that though. That is why you were brought here—to take part in my trial. You will not be harmed. As soon as the trial is over, you will be returned to your world. We will never see each other again.”
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Adahlia pulls away. Tears stream down her cheeks.
“Never see each other again. We only just met,” Adahlia shouts with disbelief.
Sotet lowers his feathered head with great sadness. He almost appears to shrink inward on himself.
“I know. And that was my mistake. I should have found another way to intervene. Set traps for those accursed girls—so that they hung for several hours by their largest toe? Or caused bees to sting them until their faces were swollen like Wockleberries? Or drove them crazy with my varying degrees of annoying trilling? My mate claims I am quite good at it.”
Adahlia realizes that Sotet is attempting to cheer her up and wipes her tears on a sleeve. She hugs him yet again. She nestles into his soft feathers, listening to the quick beat of his heart.
“You said you have a mate. I’m sure she is very beautiful,” Adahlia states dreamily.
“Very beautiful. We’ve just welcomed our first clutch. Two boys and two girls. Very lucky, indeed. I
suppose that is why I acted so rashly. Emotions have been very high lately. But, I can’t honestly say I’d do anything differently. I know, I’m supposed to feel guilty. Like I’ve committed some sort of crime. But, I just don’t. I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad to have met you, Adahlia Highstreet.”
A tear squeezes out of the corner of Adahlia’s eye.
“I’m glad I met you too, Sotet!”
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” Sotet utters with sudden joy. “How about I give you that tour I promised you?”
“A tour? How can you give me a tour? We’re locked up pretty tight,” Adahlia says incredulously. “And I don’t think the guard is going to believe that trick about one of us suddenly becoming ill. It’s been done in too many movies.”
Sotet chuckles slightly before holding Adahlia at arm’s length.
“I’m afraid you’re right about that. But do not discount my resourcefulness. I have my ways. Here, climb on my back.”
Sotet turns and lowers himself enough that Adahlia can climb on his back. She climbs on and grips both of his large shoulders.
“Comfy?” he inquires while looking over his right shoulder.
“Quite,”Adahlia says.
Sotet crosses to a window at the far end of the cell. He removes a cone-shaped object, with a round globe at the end, from the plumage pouch on his chest. He forces the pointed part through the window grating—making sure it is nestled firmly in place. “And….Here we go!”
Turning toward the opposite wall, Sotet smiles at Adahlia’s surprised gasp. A 3D image of the city is projected in the center of the room.
“Let us begin.”
_
_
“The building to our right, is the caste of the citadel,” Sotet states matter-of-factly. He gestures toward the building in question.
The building is tall and elegant; almost every square inch is adorned with green jewels. Adahlia counts about twenty-one levels of windows. She emits a small gasp.
“It’s so beautiful,” she replies, taking in every detail of the building.
Sotet chuckles softly and continues his narration.
“This is where every shrike on Shretonia receives their final certification of education. Oh, don’t be worried. We don’t have true castes…Not in the way you humans do. It’s simply a word that has survived several time convolutions and basically has the same meaning….Just different. Sure, we have bakers, tailors, and candlestick makers. But each shrike chooses what they will be. From the age of twelve world cycles— and every twelve world cycles after—we are given insight into what we can be. It is up to us to decide. No shrike is forced to be a barrister because his father is a barrister. Or a baker because her mother is a baker. Rank, as I mentioned it to you, only pertains to our level in our chosen professions. Right now, I am a Level Six Artisan Crafter. I would hate to be stripped of my certifications and have to start again. After all, I have a growing family now.”
“An artisan?”Adahlia coos softly. “What do you create?”
“Oh, all kinds of things,” Sotet responds. His trilling voice rises in pitch as excitement creeps in. “In fact, Zorobo’s bandolier is just one example of my work. I also craft small weaponry. Knives, axes, staffs….That sort of thing. My mate, Kotoro, is also an artisan. She makes fine wines, potions, powders, and other elixirs. We received our certifications during the same world cycle. We’ve been together ever since.”
“That’s really nice,” Adahlia says enthusiastically. She grips Sotet’s shoulder even tighter and nestles into the soft feathers around his neck—enjoying the comfort and warmth she finds there.
“And now we come to The Hall of the Monoch; the dual voices of justice,” Sotet says with a shudder.
“The dual voices of justice?” Adahlia utters. She releases Sotet’s neck only a little, and angles herself to look down into his face. The change is his demeanor is obvious and slightly frightening. “What do they do here?’
“This….Is where my trial will be held. Where the dual voices of the leadership will decide my fate. It is not a thing I can truly describe. One must see it for themselves. As you will. I entered this hall only once before. When I spoke on behalf of my uncle Veheder. I still remember the sound, the feelings of foreboding. I had hoped never to enter the hall again. Come, let us move on.”
Sotet meanders down the holographic road. Adahlia glances back at The Hall of the Monoch one final time. She had to admit—the building did hold around it a feeling of great dread. Unlike the surrounding buildings, no green gems adorn its surfaces. It is beautiful, to be sure, but also starkly haunted in appearance. This is not a place any person—or shrike—wants to be.