Fall
Chapter 34

Atlas

Skye splashed in the water with Hudson and Madoc, alternately running and charging at them as they sent waves towards each other.

Atlas sat in the sand with Milla and Linden. He breathed in the breeze blown in from the sea, happy for the first time in weeks. Truly happy.

I can tell, Hudson said as he stomped through the bay, you’re smiling.

And so he was. Atlas closed his eyes, and was content to doze.

They were in Chesa, and now half of their full mission was complete. All they had to do was wait for the towns and their mayors to trickle in.

Through Linden, they had been given some grace from the natives. Some had even come up to Milla asking questions and spreading her answers like messenger birds. Each day, each hour, their little group was becoming less of a fearful novelty. Armadillo glowered at them in the streets, but he was alone in his anger.

He cracked his eyes open when Milla started speaking. “We can’t thank you enough for everything, Linden. Food, shelter, safety.”

“You’re welcome.” Linden’s Chestic was soft. She rubbed the chin of her sandpiper fera, and watched it run choppily away. “I think the mayors will be here soon.”

“How soon do you think?” Milla ventured.

Skye came inland with a tired grin. She flopped onto the sand next to Atlas. “Oh, I think I like this place.” Her rough Elben was an undertone to the Chestic conversation between Milla and Linden.

“I don’t know…” Linden kept her gaze on Hudson, who waded out after Skye. “The desert takes and gives time.”

That’s about as vague as you can get, Atlas decided.

We do know the effects of the desert though. Hudson was having trouble with the sand matting in her paws. He tried to flick it off, but that only encouraged more sand to clump on his fur. It’s a place beyond time.

“Perhaps a few days?” Linden predicted. “But that would be a great feat.”

Milla shifted in the sand. “I may come back here, after this is over.”

Atlas, who had been half attentive at this point, opened his eyes wide. The subject had changed quickly. “What?”

“Ah, so you are listening,” Milla chuckled.

“You’re not leaving the North,” Atlas said.

“I can’t be an ambassador forever and you know it,” was her reply. “I’ve been globetrotting since before you were born. It’s high time I rest.”

Linden slipped into their talk, for it was still in Chestic. “Whatever you decide, my doors will be open to all of you.”

Atlas stood. “Thank you, Linden.” He marched off with Hudson trailing behind, his anger bubbling.

You’re upset she’s making plans. That’s understandable. The bear huffed, However, I don’t know if we’re dealing with it well.

I didn’t want to yell at her in front of our host. Or argue. Atlas left the sand of the beach to the sand of streets. The sidewalk was seen in small patches under its grainy sheet, but there was enough of it for Atlas to have an idea of where it roamed.

Over the past few days, he had reacquainted himself with the two sections of the small capitol. The residential side was a collection of closed buildings. Windows of brittle, opaque glass were the only gaps in the uniform browns and whites of the houses.

A child nearby was scolded for leaving a door open, and it shut with a bang. A symphony of windchimes from the houses sang their high peals, mixing in with a gull above.

An unbonded dog, scraggly with age, hopped into an ally. The rattling of a snake, most likely bonded, could be heard through the walls of a house.

The air was heavy and humid from the bay. Atlas found himself gravitating towards the shade of the buildings, and hurrying across the stripes of sun like a beaten lizard.

He passed Linden’s doorway without stopping.

Where are we going? Hudson asked.

I need more time to think.

Hudson looked up, squinting against the sun. But there’s nowhere to go.

There was a second part of Chesa that Atlas hadn’t seen since his boyhood. This was the business section of the capitol, with shorter buildings to hold the taut canvas and linen of merchants. It was not much different than the small town Piper had come from. Although the shopkeepers could be a bit pushy.

“Here!” A string of pearls was thrown to him. Atlas caught it with one hand on instinct, and returned it to its brethren on the table.

The merchant smiled coyly. “Prices are so good, my jewelry is flying off the shelves! Do you have a special lady in mind?”

“You’re lucky I didn’t run with those,” Atlas snapped in Chestic. He didn’t have enough grasp of the language to argue further with the man, so he walked away quickly.

Foolish, foolish man, Atlas thought. I’m an ambassador, not a tourist. How could he be so trusting?

Well, if you ran, the desert would stop us. Or the sea, Hudson said.

Maybe, Atlas grumbled. He kept a safe distance from the other vendors, should they decide to start throwing more of their wares on him. A blanket littered with coral piqued his curiosity, and he slowed to admire the multicolored figurines.

“Look while you can,” the vendor said. “They passed a law saying I can’t harvest coral anymore. Bad for the fish fera. Ha! I think they just want to mock me for my success.” He seemed to remember he was talking to a customer, and added, “Closing sale, if you want to know. Everything’s half off. I’ll be a fisherman after this. Then we’ll see what’s bad for the fish!” he crowed.

Atlas spotted the vendor’s cat fera in the shade. “Does your fera like this plan?”

“Oh she’ll stay on land. Always has.” The vendor swept his hand over his collection. “What’ll you have today, friend?”

Atlas pulled a coin out of his pocket. “This will buy two?”

The vendor eyed the silver with greed. “Yes, friend.”

Atlas didn’t like being called friend to the future fishmonger, but he saw the source of the vendor’s bitterness in the hollow of his exposed stomach and fera’s thin pelt. He wondered how long they had gone without a meal.

“Okay.” He kneeled close to the coral. Some had been chipped into simple shapes, while others had been left in their natural state. Bone white, muddy brown, ashen gray, pale yellow, all the colors of death looked back at him.

Despite being intriguing from a distance, the coral no longer held its appeal to Atlas. He frowned, and tried to pick one from the batch, but ended up staring at them in silence.

“I have a few in the back, too,” the vendor offered. “Nice ones from my last round. Got ones that look likes trees too. Real nice selection,” he repeated.

Atlas tossed the silver to the center of the blanket, and rose. “Keep it, friend.”

The vendor cocked his head to the side. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” He thought better of it, then said, “Don’t kill any fera for me.”

They went away and out of the hawking shops. The rest of Chesa’s business side was thin compared to its market, with a few independent craftsmen scattered about. Past this was the line in which sand and sea met. In this empty space, Atlas knew a grand pavilion would be made for the mayor meeting. It would fit the whole of Chesa along with all the wayward towns. The poles would be as thick as elephant legs, and the canvas large enough to block out the sun and create its own temperature.

A shiver of excitement went through Atlas as he imagined seeing it once more.

Atlas, Hudson said.

Hm? He glanced down.

I’m weary. Let’s go home. Hudson was sweltering in the heat. Atlas could feel his discomfort as if it were his own.

I’m sorry, Atlas thought as they retraced their path. I forgot—

It’s fine, Hudson sighed. I just can’t stand the heat like I have before.

Atlas encouraged his fera onwards to Linden’s house. Inside, he cursed himself and fretted over Hudson’s health. If the bear became ill, what would he do?

It was a relief when they finally entered Linden’s doorway. Hudson settled on the cool stone, and lapped at a dish of water Atlas poured.

When Atlas left Hudson to rest, he was greeted by a tense quiet at Linden’s table. Milla, Skye, and their hostess all wore drawn faces.

“He’ll be fine,” Atlas assured them in Chestic.

“It’s not that.” Milla switched to Elben so Skye could understand, and Linden was cut out. “We have company.”

As she explained, a surge of adrenaline churned through Atlas. Fight or flight. Defend or dispute.

The ambassadors to the East and West had come.