Jason

Jason woke up to bright sunlight and a growling stomach. He sat up, put his feet on the floor and immediately regretted it. How could a night’s rest have made his feet hurt even more?

Esar and Naomi were already gone, and Kelsam was still asleep, so Jason ate a somewhat awkward breakfast with Kelsam’s sister Styca. He tried to act “normal,” if you could call pretending he came from this world “normal.” Mostly he asked questions, keeping the conversation focused on her and her family.

“So it’s just you and Kelsam? Or do you have other brothers and sisters?” Jason asked.

Styca’s face fell, and Jason regretted his question. “We had another sister. Thady . . . died about sixteen years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason said.

“It’s all right. At least, Kelsam doesn’t blame Esar for what happened, and I suppose he’d know better than everyone else.”

“Why, what happened?” Jason asked.

“She was on the Bhadrat expedition,” Styca said, as if that was enough of an explanation, and Jason nodded, even though he had no idea what she was talking about. Asking more questions would give away that he didn’t belong in this world.

It was a relief when Kelsam woke up and joined them, carrying a book and looking much improved from the night before, though he still couldn’t stomach anything. Styca gave him a glass of water.

“Sorry for all the trouble,” Kelsam said.

“You and Esar are always welcome, and besides, it’s been lonely here with both of the girls at school. Never thought I’d see you two trailing a couple kids, though.”

“Strange times,” Kelsam said, staring across the table at nothing.

“Well, now that you’re up, I’m going to head out to the market. Anything you need? Esar already gave me a list.”

Kelsam shook his head. “Can’t think of anything. Jason?”

Jason almost laughed. What was he going to ask for? “I’m good,” he said.

Styca left, leaving Jason and Kelsam alone at the table. Kelsam opened his book, which turned out to be a sketchbook, and paged through the drawings. They weren’t terrible, but nothing special, either. Drawings of plants, animals, buildings, objects, and people; there didn’t seem to be a common theme.

“Ha!” Kelsam stopped on a portrait of a girl. “Look at how long her neck is.”

Jason snickered in spite of himself. In addition to having a neck better suited for a giraffe, one of the girl’s eyes was noticeably higher than the other. “It’s not that bad. Did you draw these?”

“Yeah, back when I was about your age, maybe a little younger.” He turned the page to another drawing of a girl, this one about to shoot a bow. “Wow, I was obsessed, wasn’t it?”

“Is that supposed to be the same girl?”

“Yes. Only in real life she didn’t have such tiny, pointy hands.”

Jason snickered again as Kelsam turned the page. The next drawing was of flowers, then a tree, then a series of seedlings. Then he turned to another portrait, one he lingered over. The picture was of a boy’s face in profile, and though it wasn’t much better than the drawings of the girl, Jason thought he recognized that eyebrow.

“Is that Esar?”

Kelsam nodded.

“You’ve known him for a really long time, then, haven’t you?”

“I suppose it has been a long time,” Kelsam said. He sighed and turned the page. He flipped by a couple more botanical drawings, but the last few pages of the sketchbook remained blank. Jason wished he had a pencil. It had been so long since he’d drawn anything.

“So did you do all those drawings in your house?” he asked.

“Yes. I gave up on drawing people a long time ago, but I think I’m pretty good at drawing plants.”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I thought they were pretty cool.”

“Cool?” Kelsam repeated. “Oh, you mean, you liked them. Thank you.”

“I . . . used to like to draw,” Jason said.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were an artist! I should have asked Styca to get you some pencils and paper. Maybe I can still catch—”

“No, it’s okay,” Jason said quickly. “I’m not an artist or anything. Just a guy who likes to draw.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I’m not great at it, or super talented, so . . . I mean, what’s the point?”

“The point is that you like doing it.” Kelsam tore one of the blank pages out of his old sketchbook. “We’re stuck here while Esar and Naomi are off on their little day trip. We can draw to pass the time. I think I’m up to that, at least.” He rummaged through a desk drawer in the next room, then brought back a couple pencils and a lump of rubber for an eraser.

Jason took the pencil Kelsam offered him and turned it over in his fingers. The weight and shape of it felt strange, but what did he expect? A yellow number two pencil with a pink eraser?

“What should I draw?” Jason asked.

“Whatever you want.” Kelsam was already sketching something, but Jason just stared down at the blank page.

The last time he had drawn was the day he accepted that his mother wasn’t going to get better. Once he’d let go of that last hope, the joy had gone out of drawing, just like it had out of so many other things. Some of the joy in life had returned since then, but there never seemed to be a point to drawing after that. All he could remember was the disappointment when he failed to capture the picture in his mind; it always ended up wrong somehow, always fell short of his vision.

Jason drew an oval. Lines to orient the features in their proper places, then eyes, nose, mouth, eyebrows, hair. He filled in more details, erasing and adjusting, shading, putting together a face piece by piece. At last he leaned back to assess the portrait as a whole.

“That’s excellent work,” Kelsam said.

“But it’s not her,” Jason sighed. There was nothing glaringly wrong with the picture. He’d drawn a woman, and the proportions were more or less what they were supposed to be, but . . .

“Your mother?” Kelsam guessed.

“It’s supposed to be my mother. How can I not remember her well enough to draw her right?” Jason squeezed his eyes shut, trying to picture her again as she’d been when she was healthy and still had her hair. He could picture her, but something got lost between his mind and the pencil.

“Do you want to talk about her?” Kelsam asked.

Jason shrugged. What would he say about her? Tell him things like how sometimes he could still hear her singing along with the radio in the car, flubbing the words? None of it would mean anything to Kelsam, anyway.

“Well, it’s a very good drawing, especially considering . . . how old are you exactly?”

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“Sixteen. And I’ve seen people my age who can draw way better than me.” Jason placed his hand on the picture, letting his fingers tighten to crumple it just a bit. No, he was not going to throw it away in a childish tantrum; he turned the paper over instead.

“So? You like drawing, don’t you? I’ll get you some more drawing paper and pencils. We can put them in Naomi’s pack and she won’t even notice.”

“Um, thanks,” Jason said. “What . . . happened to you yesterday?”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kelsam replied too quickly.

“You wouldn’t say that unless it was my fault,” Jason said.

Kelsam sighed. “It wasn’t anything you did, anyway. It just took a lot out of me to heal your fatigue yesterday, more than I’m used to. Probably because you don’t have any innate vitricity yourself. We couldn’t have anticipated that.”

“I hate it! I hate being the one holding everybody back. I didn’t even want to come here, and now you’ve got to go through all this bullshit because of me. I hate being—ugh, I can’t even say ‘normal,’ can I? Less. I hate being less than everybody else.”

“You get used to it,” Kelsam said softly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know what it feels like to live your life with a person who has powers that you don’t share. A person who’s more special and important than you will ever be, and you can’t even begin to compare yourself to that. Sometimes you can’t help but feel that you’re . . . less than he is.”

“Oh.” Jason hadn’t thought of it that way. Kelsam was ordinary—for his world, anyway. Esar and Naomi were the unusual ones. “But still . . .”

“I know it’s not exactly the same. But feeling like I’m holding him back? Like I can’t keep up with him? It still happens to me all the time. Right now, in fact, I’m kicking myself for it.” He shook his head. “But it isn’t fair, to you or to me, to think that way.”

“At least you have ma—vitricity. I’m the only person in this world who doesn’t.”

“Not quite. Everyone is born with vitricity, but the Blight strikes us all eventually. It strikes some people quite young. The queen, for example. I believe she was fourteen when she started to lose her vitricity.”

Which would be worse, to find out about this magic and never be able to experience it, or to have it only to lose it? “I guess I shouldn’t miss what I never had,” Jason said, but he couldn’t convince himself it was true.

The door opened, and they both turned to see who had arrived. But it wasn’t Styca, Esar, or Naomi. A small, white-haired woman hurried in and hugged Kelsam, who accepted her embrace awkwardly.

“Kelsam! Oh, I am so glad—and who’s this?” The woman released him, narrowing her eyes at Jason.

“Ah—what?” Kelsam blinked, and there was something apologetic in the glance he gave Jason.

“I ran into Styca and she told me you were here—and that your husband wasn’t. But who’s this Namaian boy?”

“Mother, this is Jason. He’s a student we’re taking home. To Thaliron. And he’s not a dualist.”

That didn’t mean anything to Jason, but hearing it made Kelsam’s mother relax a bit. She sat down next to her son and put her hand on his arm.

“This is only the beginning, you know.”

“How have you been? How’s Dad?”

His mother ignored his questions and turned to Jason. “And I suppose you believe that Rith has forsaken us as well?”

“What do you mean?” Jason asked, with an odd feeling in his throat.

“Mother, stop. It’s not the time—”

“If not now, when? Time is running out, Kelsam. It’s not too late yet, but soon it will be—very soon. When the Ocean fails, and Azil’s curse descends upon us all—”

“I haven’t changed my mind,” Kelsam said, looking straight ahead instead of at his mother. “I won’t change my mind, and neither will you, so please, if we can talk about anything else—”

“Kelsam, I’ve tried to be patient with you, because I’ve never given up hope. I lost one child because of that man, but if I can save you—”

Jason pushed his chair back from the table. “I’m, um—I’ve got to—”

“What about you? Will you listen to reason, or has the Tresuan twisted you around his finger as well?” Kelsam’s mother demanded.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” And no interest in finding out, either. This had nothing to do with him.

“I’m talking about the revelation of the truth, the light of hope! The resurrection!”

Jason drew in a sharp breath, forgetting that he was on his way out. She was talking about Rith, wasn’t she? So why did she sound like some kind of fundamentalist Christian?

“Sharing the good news,” Jason said, just to see how she reacted. Kelsam gave him a puzzled look.

“Precisely! Oh, I like that. We could all use some good news, couldn’t we? And it is good news. Beyond the fear, beyond the disaster, a better world is—”

“No one is coming to save us!” Kelsam shouted. “You can chant the incantation a million times, but there’s no one out there to hear it. You want a better world, you have to make it a better world, not pray for Rith to come back and do it for you!”

Kelsam had seemed horrified a few days ago when Jason suggested that Rith would return one day. Now he understood why. Jason had so many new questions now, questions he didn’t know how to ask, at least not in front of Kelsam’s mother. Was the incantation the same one that Jason’s mother had recited, the one he could hear her chanting even now?

“Do you truly think that humanity can save this world now?” Kelsam’s mother sounded desperate. “No matter how strong or powerful we are, we are all mortal in the end. Our only hope is to depend on a higher power.”

“If that’s the only hope you have left, I don’t know what to tell you,” Kelsam said. “I remember when you had other hopes.”

“I hoped for my children. But the Bauricta pottery works are failing, despite Styca’s best efforts. The business won’t be there for her daughters to inherit. I hoped for you, but now you reject me. And most of all, I hoped for Thady. My brilliant girl, her future ripped from her because she listened to that man—that same man that seduced you with his visions to lead you on the road to destruction—”

“Get out,” Kelsam said, with a cold anger in his voice that Jason had never heard before.

“This isn’t your house, Kelsam—”

“It’s not your house any more, either.” Kelsam got to his feet. “I will not sit and listen to you talk about Esar like that any longer.”

Kelsam’s mother stood up as well, staring into his eyes. She blinked, and tears fell down her cheeks. “So I’ve truly lost you.”

“That’s your choice, not mine.”

His mother turned to go, but not before adding, “This would be easier if you were dead.”

Kelsam said nothing, but once she was gone, he fell to the chair and buried his face in his hands. Jason didn’t know what to say. It didn’t seem like the right time to ask the questions that his mother’s talk of resurrections and hope had raised in his mind.

“I’m sorry you got mixed up in that. I hoped I could avoid her, but maybe it’s better that . . . that we had to face each other.” Kelsam slouched back in his chair, forcing a wan smile. “She wasn’t always . . . she changed, after Thady died. The grief was overwhelming. She was desperate for something to take that pain away. And then that wandering preacher came, talking about Rith coming back, somehow, that we could call her back if we just chanted the right words and believed . . .”

“What were the words?” Jason asked.

Kelsam shrugged. “I don’t know, exactly. It’s something like ‘Rith of the merciful heart, I entreat thee . . .’”

“Rith of the generous heart, merciful giver,” Jason corrected him. “I entreat thee, lend me thy strength. I welcome your gift and embrace your spirit, and ever shall I be a worthy steward of that which you have bestowed upon me.”

Kelsam stared at him, speechless.

“That was my mother’s prayer. She repeated it again and again, and she made me say it too, till I could recite it in my sleep. And she learned it from Kaethar.”

Kelsam’s mouth dropped open. “Jason, I wish you’d told me—”

“I didn’t want . . . I just wanted to go home, not get mixed up in all this,” Jason said, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. “But I’m here, and your mom sounded . . . familiar. It was so weird, because the religion back home has nothing to do with Rith. But there is a resurrection, a savior that’s supposed to return some day. I wonder if that’s where Kaethar got the idea.”

“You think Kaethar is behind the Second Intercessionists?” Kelsam said.

“I don’t know. He called himself the Prophet of Rith. And he told my mom—and his other followers—that Rith was going to come back and give them all magic. I mean, vitricity.”

“The time matches,” Kelsam said softly. “No one was talking about Rith returning before the catastrophe in Bhadrat—sixteen years ago. I thought, well, when times are scary and uncertain, people get strange ideas, reach for anything that gives them comfort. But maybe there’s more to it than that.”

“Could it be true?” Jason asked.

Kelsam shook his head. “There’s no way . . . and even if it were true, what would you do differently? Why would an eternal spirit care whether or not we recited the right words to call her back to us? It doesn’t make sense. Is there anything else, Jason? Anything else you can tell me about Kaethar, or your mother, or—”

“Or my father?” There was no point in holding it back now; if he was stuck here anyway, he might as well tell Kelsam everything. “It wasn’t just Kaethar who vanished from Earth sixteen years ago. Two of his followers were with him, a woman named Sophia Herrera, and a man named Matthew Nagy. Matthew was . . . I guess he was sort of my mom’s boyfriend. My mom thought she couldn’t get pregnant, right? I told you, she had ovarian cancer when she was eighteen, they said she would never be able to have children. So when she found out she was pregnant, she thought of me as, like, a miracle baby. And she got scared, some of the stuff that Kaethar was saying about sacrifice freaked her out. So she didn’t tell anybody, she broke up with Matt and didn’t say why, and . . . and then they were gone.”

“That’s . . . I don’t even know what to say,” Kelsam said. “It’s a lot for me to take in. Esar would know more than I do. We’ll need to tell him when he gets back.”