Why couldn’t she have been my mother? Or Lidea? Aside from the fact that they were currently too young.
“I understand.” I gazed at Ariana, her dark skin and silky hair. I wanted to tell her how she’d escaped Janan, how others hadn’t been so lucky. Even this life where people threw rocks at newsouls—it was better than never having the chance.
And I wanted to tell her I’d do anything to protect her, because we newsouls had to stick together.
I didn’t say any of that, though. Not in front of Geral and whoever else had come into the room. Sam. I recognized the sound of clothes rustling as he shifted his weight. “I was just alarmed by her name,” I said at last. “But I’m honored.”
“You saved her life.” Geral blinked away tears.
My face burned. “Next time a newsoul is in danger, I’ll send Sam. So far I’ve got two named after me, and he doesn’t have any.”
“I am a little jealous,” he said from the foot of the bed. “She’s beautiful, Geral. Congratulations.”
We chatted a little more, and then it was time to go. “Keep her safe,” I whispered as I hugged Geral. “Don’t trust anyone.”
Sam and I finished speaking with the other two survivors, but they knew even less than Geral. We left the Councilhouse and sat on a market field bench as the sun dipped toward the west. Not that it made much of a difference. The clouds from this morning had thickened, and delicate snowflakes spiraled toward the ground. I caught one on my mitten, but it melted.
“How do you feel about it?”
I couldn’t tell if Sam was asking about the snowflake or the direction the planet rotated, so I just raised my eyebrows and waited for him to figure out why I wasn’t responding.
“Ariana. Anid. People naming newsouls after you.”
The temple loomed behind me, already lit with shifting patterns: signs of the evil entity inside. He’d wanted to consume us, the newsouls. So we had that in common already. Now our names. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about it.”
“Of course it does.”
If how I felt about anything mattered, why didn’t he tell me what he and Sine had been so secretive about? He could have asked how I felt about not understanding the sylph, or not having had a chance to study the temple books.
Instead, he wanted to know how I felt about newsouls being named after me?
“I think a lot of people whose names sound like Ana are going to consider changing them.”
“So as not to be associated with newsouls?” He sipped from a bottle of water like he didn’t really care about my answer. I wanted to rip it from him and hurl it across the market field.
There were people out, though. Councilors loitered on the steps—Deborl kept glancing at me—and a couple holding hands walked by. One muttered, “Sylph lover,” and probably wished she had a rock to hurl.
A trio of children caught snowflakes on their tongues; I’d done the same thing when I was that age, but it was surprising to see anyone else do it. These children were five thousand years old. A characteristic of their physical age, perhaps, like people currently teenagers were attracted to other teenagers.
I didn’t look at Sam as I spoke. “We should speak to everyone who was at the meeting last night. Everyone who knew our plans. Not to accuse them of anything. Just—Just to see if they have any ideas.”
Sam capped his water and checked the time on his SED. “Where first?”
I hadn’t expected it to be that easy. Maybe he knew better than to argue with me. “Let’s start on the far side of the city and work our way home.”
“That could take a while.” Ah, there was the disapproval I’d been waiting for.
“Did you have plans this evening?” I wanted to work on the temple books, but I could do that after he went to bed.
He glanced at the sky, snow dropping harder now, and shrugged. “Best start with Cris. He’ll be out covering the plants, if he hasn’t done it already.”
Sam set a brisk pace, leaving no breath for talk. No problem. I lengthened my strides, but still had to take two for his every one. Also no problem. It helped stave off the cold.
Darkness loomed by the time we reached Cris’s house, though in the temple light, and light from our SEDs, it was easy to see nothing had been covered or moved into greenhouses like Sam had predicted. Nor could we hear Cris’s movements.
Most flowering plants had closed themselves for winter, but they were still vulnerable to the cold; I’d lost several roses at Purple Rose Cottage before I realized they needed protection, just like people.
“Where is he?” Sam marched down the path and headed toward one of the greenhouses. “Check the other one. If he’s not there, we’ll look inside.”
I almost snapped at him for telling me what to do, but the last thing we needed was another argument. Fuming silently, I did as ordered.