The Secret Path
[01]

Part Six

It had to be wrong, she was sure of it.  If L’amsi were to catch them, she was certain they would face a well-deserved and probably painful punishment. 

Yet as she lay crouched next to I’hro with the side of her face pressed lightly to Umikala’s door and the thrill of mischief fueling her pounding heart, Eto stayed rooted to the spot with silent eagerness.  It was difficult to catch the conversation through the thick veranda doors, and only snatches of words could be made out here and there.  For the most part, it sounded like soft murmuring to Eto.  She pressed her ear even closer to the carven surface to make out the voices. 

“Do you hear anything?” she whispered to I’hro. 

“Uh-huh . . . Umikala.  She seems to be doing most of the talking.  Listen.”

Eto leaned into the door, as though to melt into it, and let out a slow breath to ease her nerves.  Be still my heart . . . Then, faintly—voices drifted up to her from behind the door.

“has been . . . eager learner from the start, Ahmesa . . . must express that . . . shown an interest . . . healing arts . . .”

“A healer . . . among her people?” 

“Far more . . . that—”

Eto suppressed a cry of surprise as she felt a firm tug pulling her arm out from beneath her.  She tensed, but was relieved to find that it was I’hro leading her back along the wall of the main house. 

“What?” she hissed softly.

I’hro gestured silently to the open slats of a nearby window on the south wall of Umikala’s quarters.  Warm light glowed from within and leaked out onto the shadowy deck that curved around the smooth wall.  They huddled down below the window, careful not to scuff their hooves too loudly upon the floor.  Eto held still against the wall, her heart skipping a beat at the realization that she could now hear all that was being said quite clearly, softly muted though it was.  Umikala’s rich tones trilled eloquently beyond the thickness of the wall. 

“You see, Ahmesa, the very first day that she sat before me, she said something very interesting.  She asked me if we were never to serve our Covenant . . . she seemed, at the time, to have held a keen interest in the subject matter of further involvement . . . she still does.”

There was a moment of heavy silence. 

“I have feared this,” came a soft reply—undoubtedly her mother’s. 

“Feared?”

“Please . . . surely you must know what dangerous grounds these are.  She could be shamed!”

Eto tensed at the sudden pleading note in her mother’s voice.

“Yes, she could.  And that is why I have channeled such interests into the possibility of pursuing further studies in the medical field.  I believe she would find great purpose there . . . and honor to her name.”

“How can you be sure, Imladri?”

“Have you not seen it for yourself in her eyes?”

“. . . I have,” Ahmesa replied softly.

“Then what doubts have you?”

“She is so much like her father,” Ahmesa said with a sad but fond laugh.  “She wishes so much to be a part of things, and yet I fear what this war may do to her . . . Gods forbid she be consumed for the use of its purposes.”

“Careful, that you do not stray into that which is heresy, Ahmesa,” Umikala warned. 

“I . . . forgive me.  The will of our Lords . . . eludes me at times.  I wish only for her peace and happiness, as any mother would.”

“Even if that leads her to walk down a different path?”

“. . . Yes,” Ahmesa breathed.

Eto shot out a hand to steady herself, giving I’hro’s arm an enthusiastic squeeze.  She shared a numbed moment of expression with her friend before the boom of Umikala’s voice caught her attention once more.

“Well then, it seems perhaps that Eto should best begin a new leaf in training, should I have your blessing and consent.”

“You have it,” Ahmesa replied, the smoothness to her voice returning.  “I know she will do well.”

“I have no doubt she will.  You will wish to speak with her this evening, I am sure.”

“Yes.  I have missed her dearly.”

“You will find her dining in the bungalow with her sisters.”

“Thank you, Imladri.  You have my gratitude.”

“Keep faith, Ahmesa,” Umikala said in parting.

Eto didn’t realize that the conversation was over until she heard the soft plodding of hooves near the door and the frantic hisses of I’hro, who had been edging away.  With a plummeting sensation in her stomach, Eto scrambled away from the window and into the farthest corner of the deck where she was partially concealed by dappled shadows that fell beneath the light of the moons.
“Eto, down here, quick!”

She turned to find that I’hro had slipped beneath the banister of the veranda and was crouched low where she had leapt down onto the grass.  Eto did the same, just as she heard the telltale slide of Umikala’s doors. 

They huddled down quietly, listening to the sound of receding footsteps in the darkness.

“She’s heading back to the bungalow!” Eto whispered urgently.

“We’ve got to get back first,” I’hro said, her muscles coiling for action.

“Wait!  What if L’amsi sees us?”

“What if she finds two empty seats?”

Eto huffed heavily before lifting up from her feet and rocking forward.  I’hro was right with her, hooves barely making a sound against the supple grass as they sprinted down the hill towards the glow of the dining hall.  Eto took a running jump off of the embankment and landed in a wobbly crouch before stumbling forward once more.

“Whoop!” I’hro gasped as she came shortly after and steadied herself.  “Do you see her?”

“No,” Eto said as worry crept into her voice.  They rejoined the path as it wound through a shadowy garden.  “Do you think she’s behind u—”

Eto was cut short, as for the second time that day, she had run into something—or someone, in her path.  Her moment of shock was only compounded by the sensation of I’hro colliding with her rear and bouncing off with a surprised grunt.  This time found them both flat on their rumps with equally alarmed expressions.

Her head reeling from the sudden stop, Eto blinked up into the baffled face of her mother and cringed.  Ahmesa was even somewhat angry, by the look of it. 

“Eto, what are you doing out here?”

The two girls clambered hastily to their feet, I’hro with a still very dazed look on her face. 

“Amma!” Eto cried before rushing forward to wrap her mother up in a fierce hug.  Ahmesa returned the embrace, momentarily forgetting her displeasure to enjoy the feel of holding her daughter once again. 

“You had best return to the bungalow,” she said, inclining her head to I’hro.  “Else you be missed at the dinner table.”

I’hro nodded without a word, before stealing a last glance at a blissful Eto and loping sheepishly away down the softly illuminated path.  Ahmesa watched her disappear into the shadows for a quiet moment before giving her daughter an affectionate squeeze.   

“It warms my heart to see you again, Eto.”

She gently pulled her daughter away, holding her back by the shoulders to take her in by the dim light.  Her gaze hardened ever so slightly.

“What were you doing just now?”

Eto paused, embarrassment briefly stealing over her face.  “I’hro and I . . . we were running to come and meet you,” she said, careful to train her eyes upon a design in the stone at her feet. 

It was a half truth.    

Ahmesa studied her silently for an uncomfortable moment before her expression took on an undeniably cool demeanor.  “You were listening, weren’t you?”

Eto’s maw parted with apparent protest, but with nothing to say, she promptly pursed her mandibles together and scuffed at the ground in shamed silence.  A warbling note escaped Ahmesa’s slender throat with almost resigned exasperation.

“Have you no shame, daughter?” she chided softly.

Eto responded with a vague wince at her mother’s disappointment.  “How . . . how did you know?”

“I’m your mother,” Ahmesa said, the warmth of amusement quickly creeping back into her voice.

Eto’s mandibles quirked upwards into a guilty smile as she braved a glance at her mother’s face, and was pleased to find that her eyes had softened.  How her mother seemed to know everything had always been a puzzlement to her.  It was unnerving and frankly, inconvenient at times.

“Come,” Ahmesa said, gently leading her by the hand.  “Sit with me.”

Eto eagerly followed her along the winding flagstones of the garden to a quiet corner where the moonlight was falling in brighter through the vines overhead.  The distant sounds of the dining hall and the hum of insects made for a soothing retreat among the curling tendrils and thick fern beds that surrounded them. 

As her mother came to seat herself gracefully upon an ancient-looking slab of stone, Eto thought she could hear the tinkling sound of water nearby.

“It’s very peaceful here, isn’t?” Ahmesa said.

Eto nodded quietly as she settled at her mother’s feet and leaned against her legs.  Almost immediately Eto felt the gentle caress of her mother’s fingers as they smoothed across her brow.  She closed her eyes and absorbed the comforting sensation.  It had been so long it seemed, that she had been able to enjoy such a feel of peaceful assurance. 

“About what was said this evening,” Ahmesa began tentatively, “with Umikala . . .” She paused quietly in thought. 

“Is it what you want?”

Eto nodded against her mother’s knees and opened her eyes ever so slightly to gaze up at the few stars that were peering through the open patches in the canopy of leaves overhead.  Somewhere out there, her father was at work at his holy tasks, fighting . . . and winning, she hoped. 

“Yes . . .” she breathed. 

Ahmesa released a heavy sigh before sliding her arm around Eto’s bare shoulders.  “Then know this, beloved.  These are troubled times.  Our Hierarchs speak of the glory and triumph . . . and purpose, but my heart tells me that it will not be so simple.  Eto, listen to me,” she said, gently turning her daughter’s face so that she met her gaze. 

“This war, as distant as it may seem, is going to bring hardship upon our people.”  She closed her eyes briefly, and stroked Eto’s shoulder.  “I fear there will be a great day of woe before the end . . . and I wish the very least of these hardships for you.”

Eto studied her mother’s face with a troubled gaze.  She seemed so . . . fearful.  It unsettled her, and she snuggled closer to her mother’s warmth.

Ahmesa sighed once more before casting her gaze to the glimpses of sky above.  “Perhaps I worry over it too much,” she said, drawing Eto closer, “but the work ahead of you will not be easy.  There is much honor to be had in becoming a healer, but with such a need expanding beyond that of our own people, the demands of the Covenant will be great.”  She looked down to meet Eto’s solemn gaze.

“Are you prepared for this?”

Eto honestly did not know in her heart if she was.  She was still unnerved by her mother’s unease, and something tugged vaguely, but ominously at her thoughts.  She found herself nodding slowly despite these things and felt a strong if somewhat blind boldness leaping up within her. 

“I’m ready, Amma.  For the Honor of our Lords.”  

Ahmesa smiled in the darkness.  “Such a Godly young woman,” she uttered softly.  “The Forerunners have truly blessed me.  But no longer a child . . .”

Eto distracted herself with watching the subtle sway of the fronds as a feeling of uncertainty welled up within her all of a sudden.  Her mother’s praise was warming, but at the mention of the Gods, a pang had struck her.   Not once had she sought their guidance or wisdom as she pursued the possibility of attaining such an honor.  Quite suddenly, an empty void was opening up before her.

“You seem troubled, Eto,” her mother said thoughtfully. 

Ahmesa’s voice pulled her from out of her deepening thoughts, and she glanced up to her questioningly.  “Do they know everything, Amma?” she asked.

“They?”

“The Gods.”

Ahmesa’s brow furrowed as she regarded her daughter.  “They know all that has been, all that is, and all that is to come, beloved.  Never question that.  What you should question is where they will take you in this life.  You have chosen a path, Eto, but where the path may take you in the end is a mystery to even the very wise.” 

She leaned close to Eto, almost whispering the words into her ear.  “Only the Gods know this end.  It is their secret.  In time, it will be revealed to you.”

Eto listened intently, soaking in her mother’s wisdom.  She wouldn’t trust the words of any other more than she did hers, and she felt it—a truth that settled like a promise in her heart. 

“What if I cannot see what lies ahead?” she asked.

“Many things may happen along the way that you do not expect,” Ahmesa replied as she gestured to the air.  “There will be countless decisions to make, paths to choose.  We must always be attentive, our hearts open.  Listening to the will of our Lords, so that when the time comes to make those choices, we will do so with Their wisdom.  And that, my love, is what will protect you from folly.”

Eto hugged her mother’s knees firmly.  Never had she felt more comforted—or grateful, for the presence of her mother. 

“I understand, Amma,” she whispered.

“I hope I come to,” Ahmesa sighed.

“Amma?”

“You have far more strength than I, Eto,” she replied wearily.  “It has been . . . hard for me, without your father.”

Eto nearly leapt at his mention, and twisted around to face her mother with an eager glow in her eyes.  Ahmesa was rubbing pensively at her brow with one hand, while she mustered her thoughts.

“I have prayed every day that the Forerunners would grant me peace . . . and that they would protect him.”

“Have you heard from him?  Anything!” Eto blurted, unable to contain herself.

“I have,” she said softly, a small smile slowly spreading across her face at Eto’s growing excitement.

“Really?!  When?”

“It was last week; he sent a transmission.”

“What did he say?”

Ahmesa laughed.  “He said the food is terrible.”

Eto giggled, knowing how fond he was of her mother’s cooking.  “I bet he misses that most,” she said.

“No, no.  He said he misses us the greatest of all; that by the time he returns, his daughter will have grown so beautiful that he will be challenged to recognize her,” Ahmesa chuckled.  Her smile, however, faded at Eto’s suddenly crestfallen expression.

“He’s not coming then . . . anytime soon,” she murmured. 

“Oh, Eto . . . he can’t.  Not just yet.  He would will it but for where his assignments have taken him.  Even I do not know where he is stationed now, just that he is very far from Sangheil.”

“When will we see him again?”

“I . . . I do not know, Eto.  Pray that the Gods will bring him back to us swiftly . . . in good health.”

Eto dug a hoof into the ground, a dull and familiar anger drifting up from within her heart.  How long?                  
        
“I do have this,” Ahmesa said softly, eyeing Eto carefully as she pulled out a small holographic tablet from within the folds of her sash.  She held out the device to Eto, who took it curiously. 

A stifled gasp escaped her as she peered intently at its shimmering surface.  There, looking sternly back at her with glittering cobalt eyes was her younger brother.

“Gods . . . he’s changed,” Eto said, the surprise lingering in her voice.

“He certainly has,” Ahmesa said, leaning forward to gaze at his image with her.

No more the rounded face and boyish awkwardness; though still a child, he now bore the chiseled musculature and hardened features of a warrior in training.  It was the cornerstone, as it were, of what he was to become.  His dark skin, while it had been freckled before, was now heavily dappled.  He had spent many hours, it seemed, training outdoors.

“Six years,” Ahmesa sighed.  “Six years, and he will be baptized by fire into warriorhood.  And you,” she said, looking fondly upon Eto, “will have completed your tasks here and become a woman.” 

The thrill of seeing so far ahead excited Eto, but there was still the detached sense of it being such a distant event.  There was still so much to learn until that time.

For the moment, she was savoring the present.  Every word, every touch, every shared laugh in the presence of her mother was being committed to memory.  Eto knew it would be some time before she would see her again.  It could be cycles—years, even.  But this, though it would normally trouble her, was but a ghost on the edge of her mind.  More so her heart grew content at the thought that she could visit her mother whenever the longing pulled at her. 

“Eto,” Ahmesa purred, “you look so happy.”

There was a quiet moment in which the sounds from the bungalow and the surrounding forest drifted up gently to fill the silence.  Eto let out a soft breath. 

“I am.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

The news that the first of the indigo-clad daughters had chosen to pursue her special gift did not go unnoticed.  Eto had tried to keep things quiet about her new training from the start, but naturally, the whole Bangala knew about it within the week.

“You must be the youngest one to have ever chosen a gift,” I’hro said some cycles later while lazily leaning back on her palms beneath the shade of the cypri trees.  “Even our elder sisters are still chattering about it.”

“That is because they never chose such a calling,” said the brooding young woman who sat across from Eto on the mat.  “It is an unusual thing.   Most women are content with taking a mate and becoming the head of their household.”

She looked up from the device she had been calibrating to catch Eto’s eye.  “The earlier you begin, the better.  You really do have much to learn.  I didn’t make my choice until later in my sixth year, so you have the advantage.”

“Who will teach me when you come of age, Seihu?” Eto asked.

“I will stay.  I have already decided that I want to work here, at the Bangala.  L’amsi is strained enough as it is in her duties to assist the Craftmother, so I will be taking up the position of medical staff.” 

Eto’s mandibles parted in a cheerful smile.  She liked Seihu, and had come to enjoy the time she spent learning from her knowledge as a fledgling healer herself.  Seihu was the only elder daughter to have chosen such a profession.

“You know,” Seihu grunted as she struggled with a small sliding compartment of the device, “you’re fortunate that I am here.  You won’t have to learn from one of those second generation AI’s, like I did.”

Eto cocked her head curiously at the unfamiliar terminology.

“They’re snarky,” Seihu quipped before forcefully striking the device and tossing it lightly to Eto. 

She caught it gently, and observed the strange, curving surface of the tool.  It rested comfortably in her hands with an almost natural feel. 

“That,” Seihu said as she leaned forward, “is a healer’s best friend.”

“What is it?” Eto asked.  I’hro sidled up next to her and peered curiously at the object. 

“It’s a stat device.  We use predominantly traditional methods, but this is one tool that you will be glad of.  It will give you readings for blood pressure, heart rate, and brain activity.  “And,” she said, scooting to sit alongside Eto, “if it will work correctly, it has an extensive database for analyzing samples.”

She touched the device to indicate the compartment she had just been wrestling with.  “Tissue samples, chemical traces, all sorts of things.”    

“Handy,” Eto said as she explored the glowing touch screen set into its face.

“You’ll become quite comfortable with it, trust me.  It will be like a third hand,” Seihu smiled, as she held up a slender palm for emphasis.  “Speaking of which,” she held up her other.  “These are what you will be using the most.  Healing by touch is a most powerful and sacred art.  It is an ancient practice, of course, but one that has—”

“Eto!”

The shrill cry bleated from across the clearing.  Seihu growled in annoyance at the interruption and turned to see a very small first year bounding up to them through the grass.

“Not again . . .” she grumbled.

“Eto,” the girl panted as she trotted to a stop at the edge of their mat, “I’m hurt—Ouch . . . can you heal me?” the offending child asked innocently as she hopped lightly upon one hoof, the other held gingerly from the ground. 

“She ran across the field well enough,” I’hro snorted under her breath before cracking a wide grin at the doubtful look on Eto’s face. 

“Tao, are you sure it’s hurt?” Eto said, gazing upon the proffered hoof with disbelief.

“Of course it’s not,” Seihu observed dryly before shooing her away.  “Go on!  I am trying to teach something here.”

The supposedly injured foot was planted firmly on the ground before Tao’s mandibles pulled together in an almost comical pout.  “Didn’t hurt that much, anyways,” she muttered as she marched away towards the bungalow where a handful of other first years were chattering away in the shade. 

“Apparently, I’m not all that exciting,” Seihu remarked as I’hro rolled to her side upon the mat and began to laugh.

“Eto, Eto the Healer! I’m sick,” I’hro moaned and began to paw playfully at Eto’s side.  “Please, I need you to look at my finger.” 

“Oh, stop,” Eto huffed as she wiggled away to protect her ticklish spot.  But a small grin had slowly spread across her face. 

“They used to come running to me, you know,” Seihu commented dispassionately as she paused to gaze up at the sky.  “And that’s part of the job—knowing when something is wrong and when something isn’t . . . like that just now, for instance.”  She clicked her lower mandibles sharply in a gesture of annoyance.  “Those first years, they shouldn’t be given free time.  They’ve nothing better to do than to come and pester their elder sisters.”

“Oh Gods,” I’hro laughed as she sat up.  “Were we that bad?”

Eto quirked a mandible.  “I doubt it.  We had more sense.” 

“Hah!” Seihu chuffed as she gazed shrewdly at Eto.  “And yet I distinctly remember our sun-kissed and cinnamon-eyed sister being punished some years ago for putting stinging mantids in that one girl’s tea.  That sodden-faced girl, what was her name—”

“Iisu,” Eto and I’hro chimed in unison.

I’hro thumped the ground as yet another laugh rose within her.  “That was brilliant.  I remember it.  Her face was swollen for a week!”  She rolled to the mat once more as a fit of giggles overtook her.  Eto managed to retain more of her dignity, though an amused chuckle managed to get away.  A brief expression of embarrassment crossed her face.

“I had almost forgotten that,” she said.         
        
“Well I didn’t forget it,” I’hro drawled.  “I had to help you with your chores the whole time your hands were so raw from having to pluck every last mantid from out of the well.”

Eto winced at the painful memory as it came back to her quickly.  L’amsi thought of the most unique punishments . . . “It was worth it, though,” she snickered. 

I’hro was about to add something witty when yet again the sound of footsteps and rustling grass stole their attention. 

“Hello, sisters.”

Eto smiled at the sight of their dark-skinned and sable-eyed roommate as she strode gracefully to the mat where they were sitting.  

“It’s Jisoh,” I’hro called in greeting.

“Are you studying?” she asked as her eyes fell upon the device Eto still held in her hands.

“Quite honestly, I doubt there will be much more I can teach for today,” Seihu sighed in resignation.  “It’s been one of those days.  Please, join us.”

Jisoh seated herself across from Eto, her legs crossed with an arm stretched over I’hro’s knees as she lay sprawled out contentedly across the mat. 

“Comfortable?” she asked I’hro.

“Mmm . . . very.”

“Eto, I was wondering if you could look at my wrist,” Jisoh said, redirecting her attention. 

Eto hesitated, looking to Seihu, who bore a smug expression as if to say, “I told you so.”  “I don’t know, Jisoh.  I think you’d better have Seihu look at it. I haven’t been training for very long.”

She took Jisoh’s arm and gingerly offered it to Seihu, but her elder sister folded her arms and shook her head vaguely.  “Knowledge through practice, Eto.”  With a slight nod, she made it clear that Eto observe the request.

Eto smiled weakly at Jisoh before taking her wrist gently between her hands and running her thumbs smoothly along the underside of her forearm.  “Has it been hurting you?”

“No, actually,” Jisoh said, shaking her head.  “It’s just been numb.  Maybe a little sore now and then, but you know how I’ve taken up the learning the ztastu?”

Eto nodded, recalling the dulcimer-like instrument that her friend was known to spend long hours with.  “When are you not playing it?” Eto teased as she worked her hands back up the length of Jisoh’s arm. 

“Well, I think it might be that.  I remember a few night ago I struck the chords at a bad angle and something twanged.”

“Yeah . . .” Eto said slowly, her eyes closed.  “That feels about right.”

“Huh?”

“Something is definitely out,” Eto said, and looked to Seihu for support.

“Well, we were getting to the finer facets of that art, but remember what I have shown you thus far,” Seihu suggested, demonstrating the rolling motion of the thumbs that would allow her to dig deeper.

Eto started in, cautiously at first so as to be sure of the movements, but firm nonetheless as she worked her way beneath the folding bands of muscle.  She couldn’t knead much deeper without causing Jisoh pain, but acting upon intuition, she slid forward along the inner muscle, and there it was. 

“Ah,” she huffed softly.  “This might hurt.”

“Remember, concentrate on pinpointing the delivery of pressure,” Seihu added.  Jisoh looked positively alarmed.

“Wha—OW!”

She didn’t have the time to protest before Eto had met her thumbs at the point and pressed firmly into the tissue.  Quite suddenly, there came a release, and a warm sensation that flowed the length of her arm.  She flexed her wrist as soon as Eto released her, marveling in the sensation.

“That hurt.”

“Told you it would,” Eto said, smiling with her own growing confidence, “but the muscle should have relaxed now.  The nerves are free.” 

“It . . . it feels great, Eto.  You’re really good!”

Eto blushed a delicate shade of violet at her friend’s remark.  It had, in truth, been her first time actually treating anyone, and she was surprised at her own success.

“Well done,” Seihu commented smoothly.  “Forceful, and a little barbaric, but effective nonetheless.”

Eto’s violet flush deepened to purple as she fidgeted with the stat device in her hands. 

“Eventually, you will have the skill to deliver such a treatment near painlessly and with half the force,” Seihu added to ease Eto’s discomfort.  “You did very well for having spent most of your time immersed in research and study on medicinal properties.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t tease you for reading so much,” Jisoh laughed and smoothly rotated her wrist.  “ I think it’s all better.”

Eto was thrilled at the accomplishment, but her thoughts wandered to the future.  What she might eventually do with the knowledge she was rapidly gaining now was still a foggy mystery to her.  It could be wonderful working with medicine and technological developments, but not as exciting as treating, say . . . warriors.

She jumped a little as I’hro took her by the arm and pulled herself up half way.  “Hey . . . do you hear that?”

The other three quieted, their chins tilted slightly upwards as they listened.  Eto cocked her head to one side, straining to catch what I’hro had detected.  And then, she heard it—a distant, warbling whine that was growing steadily louder overhead.

“What is that?” I’hro asked.

No sooner had she spoken than the sound had boomed overhead into a roar.  Eto startled as Jisoh and I’hro jumped beside her and felt something tumble against her legs, and looked wildly about.  She turned as a great shadow streaked over them . . . and then another, and another.  Looking up, she caught sight of a unit of sleek craft flying low over the hills and climbing higher as they passed over the Bangala. 

Eto was momentarily blinded as the sun caught on their iridescent, purplish sheen, but recovered in time to catch a glimpse of the lateral curving arches and the bristling turrets that lined their undersides.  An audible gasp escaped her as she shaded her eyes against the glare.  But just as quickly as they had soared overhead, they had dipped down again and out of sight beyond the trees. 

Several curious faces were peering out from under the eve of the bungalow, having missed the fleeting sight. 

“Those were Phantom transports!” Eto exclaimed, unable to hide the glee in her voice.

“Right you are,” Seihu said as she stood, her eyes still trained to the sky.  “Flying from Les’ul, I’m almost certain . . . If you’ll excuse me, sisters.  I should notify L’amsi.  She has family there . . .”  Her voice trailed off before giving a short nod to the three younger girls who were still craning their necks to look beyond the trees, and swiftly took leave for the main house.

It was silent for a heartbeat as their gazes lingered upon the tree line before their excitement bubbled to the surface. 

“Did you see the turrets?” I’hro said, spinning to face Eto, who was already nodding with fervent enthusiasm.

“And the grav hatch on the back where the troops come out?” Eto added, her eyes sparkling.  

She looked eagerly to Jisoh, but found that her friend was bent over her skirts, hastily scooping up something that had apparently fallen from the folds of her sash when she had startled.  The light glinted off of something small she held in her hand.

“Jisoh, what’s that?” Eto asked suddenly.

“Oh—it, it’s nothing,” she said distractedly, as she tried to stuff her hand into the loose folds of her kebo.  This did not work too well, as one of the glittering objects tumbled from her grasp and fell once more to the mat. 

“Wait, that’s a—”  I’hro murmured as her eyes dropped to the ground.

Jisoh made an attempt to sit on it, but not before I’hro had snatched up the curiosity.  A look of utter dread fell over her handsomely dark features as I’hro’s eyes widened. 

“It’s a data crystal . . . Jisoh, where did you get this?”

Eto huddled closer to get a better look at the pale blue crystal I’hro held between her fingers.  I was palm sized; thin, with a roughly rectangular shape—seemingly cut to fit into a larger component. 

“What does it do?” she asked curiously.

Jisoh sputtered anxiously and lunged for the device, but I’hro was faster—and taller.

“Come on, give it back,” she growled weakly.

“Wait, let’s see it first,” I’hro said, holding it away as Jisoh clambered over her in another attempt to seize it.  Failing a second time, she planted her hands upon the mat, her brow knitted in anger.

“Fine,” she fumed, “but if L’amsi sees it, you take the fault.”

“Fair enough,” I’hro grinned, before running a finger along the smooth face of the crystal.  “My father had these,” she commented softly.  “He brought them back when he had special assignments, and kept them with his other things. He said they stored information and audio files, and some, I think, had moving images.”

Eto shuffled closer, keenly eyeing the device, but Jisoh glanced uneasily about and leaned forward as if to hide it from sight. 

“He never let me look at them,” I’hro said, and curiously tapped a faint glyph that appeared above its surface as her finger passed over it.  She gasped softly as a tiny window, like a screen, glowed to life before their eyes.  They gave a start as a deep voice boomed somewhere off-screen from the shaky recording. 

“Are you capturing this?”

“Yes Excellency.  Me record,” came a second voice, shrill in pitch as it awkwardly spoke the Covenant Basic. 

There was what appeared to be a momentary blinding flash, followed by a thunderous echo, and a brief glimpse of mortars trailing distantly across an azure sky.  The view dipped, revealing a sprawl of strange, angular buildings that were nestled among the charred remains of a forest.  Eto gasped as she realized that there were bodies littering the ground among the twisted, smoking rubble.  They were pale . . . alien.

“Are those . . .”

“Shhh,” I’hro hissed.

A Sangheili warrior in blue armor strode into view as he observed the carnage, then stood at attention and addressed someone out of sight.

“Eight hundred kills and still counting, Commander.  We have yet to clear out the rubble of the cliffs.  It was a brilliant tactical maneuver with the Wraiths, sir.”

A rough, grating chuckle rumbled off screen nearby.  “Then it will be a good day for you as well,” came the boom of the voice from before.  The screen had been slowly panning the outlying devastation, revealing more broken corpses and curling billows of smoke.  The hum of a distant cruiser could be heard in the distance. 

“That is good enough,” the voice commanded.

There was a scrape of something shuffling and an antsy, muttering squeak, and then the screen winked out.  A tiny readout scrolled across the surface—primarily composed of numbers and symbols, but the name HARVEST caught Eto’s attention before they, too, disappeared from sight. 

What followed next was the most horrendous, ear-splitting noise Eto had ever heard.  A terrible, screeching voice welled up and filled their ears as it wailed in an unintelligible tongue to a frantic rhythm of pops and beats.

“Auggh, turn it off!” Jisoh cried as the alarming racket filtered into the clearing.  “They’ll hear!”

The voice pitched higher into a scream of astheteersrunfromtheuuuuurth! as I’hro fumbled with the crystal and found the glyph that abruptly silenced the noise.  “What in the Gods’ great mercy was that?” she said, now eyeing the device with distrust. 

“I . . . I think that was music,” Eto said, removing her hands from her ears.  She had to admit that it had had a bizarrely odd appeal to it. 

“Here,” I’hro said, hastily pressing the crystal into Jisoh’s hands.  “Let’s hope L’amsi didn’t hear that.”

Eto noted the vestiges of shock that still appeared to be clinging to I’hro’s features.  She was sure that it wasn’t the odd noise that was to blame for that . . . she pushed aside the disturbing image of small, pale corpses and turned to Jisoh, who had carefully taken her two other crystals and hid them well out of sight once more. 

“Where did you find them?”

“I bought them when we went into Sol’sta,” she said, but frowned at their looks of disbelief.  “From an Unggoy, if you must know!” she hissed beneath her breath.

“An Unggoy?” Eto mused.  She had never seen one of the diminutive creatures up close before, but she had surmised that that must have been what was taking the video they had just witnessed. 

“How did you get him to sell those to you?” I’hro asked.  It was unusual for a lower caste soldier to be found in one of the rural heartland cities, let alone that it would part with something that most certainly wasn’t privy to civilian eyes. 

“I . . . I threatened him.”

“Jisoh!” Eto exclaimed with surprise. 

“You’re not the only one who’s wanted to know what’s been going on!” Jisoh snapped defensively as her expression darkened. 

“What do you mean?” Eto asked uneasily. 

“You know.  I saw you. You were speaking to those warriors,” she said softly. 

I’hro spun to stare at Eto with maw agape. 

“You didn’t tell . . .” Eto breathed.

“No.  I didn’t,” Jisoh said quietly. 

“You could have told us!” I’hro said as she fixed Eto with a reproachful glare.  “You know we wouldn’t tell!”  She lurched up from the mat to set cross-legged beside Jisoh so that she now faced Eto.  A funny look was on her face as she leaned forward.  “What were they like?”

Eto scoffed in her throat as a familiar burning sensation clung to her cheeks.  “I’ll tell you about that later,” she said, casting an embarrassed glance to the weave of the mat.  “Jisoh—how did you . . .”

“I was following that Unggoy after I had spotted him in the market—he wasn’t supposed to be there, I think, and before I turned down a street to catch up to him, I heard voices and saw you dash out of that alley.  The warriors followed soon after, so I had guessed as much.” 

Eto meekly rubbed at the back of her neck, simply thankful that it had been Jisoh, and not someone else, who had seen her.  She shuddered to think of what Iisu would have done with that knowledge. 

“Thank you, Jisoh . . . for not telling,” Eto said, the awkward smile still clinging to her maw.

“I won’t tell either,” I’hro said.  It was quiet for a moment among them as the leaves rustled lazily overhead. 

“I—ahh . . . there’s two more, you know,” Jisoh suggested, her hand moving towards a deep fold of her sash. 

Eto and I’hro leaned forward, their expressions betraying their absolutely shameless interest in such things.  With a sweeping glance that confirmed L’amsi was nowhere near, Jisoh dug out the other two crystals and fixed her companions with a devious smirk. 

“Have either of you ever seen a Scarab?”

 

As unspoken and fragile a thing as trust among friends is, from that moment on the three of them rarely kept secrets from one another.  In fact, they were hardly to be found apart as their studies wore on, despite the growing length of time that Eto was dedicating to the healing arts.
        
 Eto had rather a lack of a free period, as her time was spent was Seihu, but to her pleasure, I’hro and Jisoh insisted upon keeping her company.  While I’hro steadily grew fascinated with what Eto was learning and even came to participate in it herself, Jisoh had no such interests.  On any given afternoon, it became a common sight for her to be seated comfortably beneath the cypri trees, strumming peacefully against the ztastu while watching Seihu demonstrate a new technique to her two sisters.

Excitement and news of the outside world like they had experienced that one day did not happen very often, but when it did, they were fast to share it amongst themselves with all the eager enthusiasm of the first day they had discovered it.
 And always, though the hope grew more faint with the passing days, Eto prayed for her father’s return.

It came as a shock the first day that Eto experienced the pangs of her adolescence leaving her.  She had only vaguely been aware of what becoming a woman meant, as her mother had never really been one to speak of such things. 

On one such occasion, she was utterly at a loss to herself as she skulked in the bath that morning.

“Gods, I feel terrible,” she moaned as she huddled in the pool, concealing herself with just her chin held above the surface of the steaming water. 

“Perhaps it’s because you’ve grown about a foot taller in just the past cycle,” Jisoh commented smugly before leaving the water to towel off where I’hro was standing. 

When Eto finally saw fit to join them, she studied herself with growing distaste. 

“I’ve grown fat,” she growled morosely.

“That, my dear sister,” I’hro laughed, “is filling out.  There is a difference between the two.  I think the young men will find you quite curvaceous.”

Eto snorted at the thought, and hid her face.

“Ooh, look at her blush all over,” Jisoh teased as she threw Eto’s saffron sash at her bare rump.  “Get some clothes on, you’re turning all purple.”

Eto snatched the sash up indignantly before settling upon the rug to brood upon her thoughts, all the while casting glances upon the unfamiliar curves and textures her body had taken on.  Unbeknownst to herself, she was becoming quite lovely. 

But unbeknownst to them all, was just how fast the days were passing.