The Cloud Roost (Jekua Book 5), page 6
Mostly the ship was just filled with passenger cabins and off-limits employee areas like break rooms or the kitchen. It was kind of disappointing, given the extravagance she was used to on luxury cruises such as this, but not totally unexpected given the smaller ship and the shorter length of the voyage. Still, it was nice and quiet, unlike the boisterous deck above.
For most of the meal, Balt was distracted while the rest of them chatted. He’d agreed to go on this short little boat trip, but it was clear that he was still anxious about running through their list of to-dos.
1: Imprint a Jenu.
2: Save an entire island thought to be lost forever.
It was an intense list.
Niona understood where he was coming from, but she hoped he would be able to enjoy himself at some point. Perhaps the fresh ocean air would do him some good. He’d gone back for multiple plates at the buffet, so that was something.
The taste of snail was still on her tongue as she stumbled upon a heavy red door with a placard declaring it the Theater Room. Intrigued, Niona gently pushed the door open and was met with darkness.
Inside was five rows of eight seats each, with a large movie theater screen at the head of the room. Some silly animation was playing on a loop, a cartoon Whifflit munching on a bag of popcorn. There was no sound or music at all, which would have made the sight even cuter, in Niona’s opinion.
Suddenly a young, pimple-faced boy no older than sixteen leapt out from the shadows with an apologetic look on his face. “Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled, his eyebrows at a downward slope. Was he about to cry? “Our first movie won’t be starting for another two hours. I’m so, so sorry. Was there some kind of miscommunication?”
Niona almost laughed, but didn’t want to distress the guy further. “Nah, it’s cool. I was just wandering around. I didn’t realize there was a theater on the boat.”
Her words seemed to put him at ease. His face slackened, the worry mostly disappearing. “Oh, okay. Yes, there is a theater.” He seemed to mentally chastise himself for making the immensely obvious statement before continuing. “We play a few movies each day and can accommodate up to forty guests. There are some repeat showings, in case you can’t make one or it’s already full. Here’s a schedule.”
The boy pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. As she unfolded it, he scurried over to the lightswitch and flicked it on, apologizing once more and explaining that he had been resting for only a moment. Niona chuckled.
With the lights on, she skimmed the list of movies the tiny cinema would be showing over the next couple days. Maybe watching a movie in a dark, air-conditioned room would help get Balt’s mind off Pakree for a little while. She appreciated his commitment to the cause, but he was going to run himself ragged if he kept himself wound up so tight.
Each night had one special movie playing, then throughout the days they alternated between the same two. The repeats included Twice Seen and Rocket. The former was a few years old, part of a murder mystery series that followed the same quirky detective across several different cases. Twice Seen wasn’t Niona’s favorite of the series, but it was pretty good. She loved the locales in it, taking place in a ski villa in northern Tollush. There was one that was set in the mountains of Kanojim, which was also incredibly beautiful, but the mystery was a lot more predictable in that one. It had something to do with a theatre production gone awry (due to murder, of course). Rocket was a more recent blockbuster, coming out earlier in the year in Spring sometime. In Niona’s opinion, it looked like absolute dogshit, so she hadn’t seen it. It was some sci-fi action joint with two meathead actors who could barely act, constantly covered in dirt and sweat with their absurd muscles bulging. If the people behind it couldn’t think of a better title than Rocket, she did not think the chances of it being good were particularly high.
The special engagements each night were unfamiliar to her. They must have been classics; she was not much of a cinephile. There was one called The Lost City of Ithos, which was a pretty enticing title, even if she knew nothing else about it. Another was Lightblade, which sounded like something that would be up Balt’s alley. They’d never discussed movies much, but Niona thought he might be the type to enjoy a dueling swordsman type of flick. If that was even the type of movie it was, anyway. She was going solely off the title.
“Any of them strike your fancy?” the teen asked, stirring her from her thoughts.
“I’m a fan of Jules Jayne mysteries, so maybe we’ll come for that,” she answered.
His face lit up. “Me too,” he said. “That one was actually my choice. Us who work the theater get to pick the movies we show. Within reason, of course. I love Twice Seen.”
“It’s a good one,” Niona said. “What’s the Kanojim one called again?”
“Oh, that one’s good too!” he beamed. “That’s Understudy. Neither one’s quite as good as Jewel of the Barrens, though. That’s one of my all-time favorite movies.”
The two discussed Jules Jayne for a few minutes, up until the kid started rambling on about one of the more recent outings that Niona hadn’t seen yet and damn near spoiling the twist for her. Luckily, she caught him before that happened. She then asked about some of the classics that were showing each evening, and he excitedly described all of them in detail to her. Apparently Lightblade starred the guy from One Point Two who she loved, so now she was even more interested in watching it. She thanked him for his time and exited the theater room so he could resume his nap before he had to actually work.
There wasn’t much else to see, although she did catch two employees making out underneath a stairwell as she passed by. They both shoved themselves away from the other and started examining the stairway’s underside in a feeble attempt to act innocent.
Niona clomped her way upstairs, leaving the two lovebirds in peace, and made her way out onto the deck. It only took a couple minutes to find Balt gazing longingly out at the purple sea. Beside him stood his Puffolin, Dipper. Always building up his mana reserves whenever he got a chance. At least he hadn’t summoned Milton; the Echobear’s ghastly appearance would have cleared out the deck’s guests in seconds.
“Yo,” she said, sidling up next to him.
“Hey,” he greeted her with a weak smile.
“Yo, Dipper,” she then said.
Balt made the Puffolin wag her tail. The pink and purple flowers on her back rustled in the breeze.
“Whatcha doin’?” Niona asked, looking out at the water. There were no other islands on this side of Kou Tekkis, so it was nothing but open ocean for miles on end.
In response, he pointed out at the water and said, “Watching this.” Niona followed the invisible line, but there was nothing there. Just water. It was nice water, a very pretty vista for sure, but still. Not exactly something Niona could see herself staring out for an hour straight. Her attention span would never allow it.
She was about to ask if he was brain damaged in the lighthouse battle when suddenly a creature leapt from the sea. Multiple creatures, actually. Five or six of them, all huddled fairly close together.
They were about the size of dolphins, and looked pretty similar, too. Rubbery skin and long, rounded snouts with a curved fin sticking out of their backs. But their skin was a pastel pink hue, and it seemed their bellies might be pastel orange, though it was hard to tell from this distance and angle. On either side of their bodies were long, wide, thin fins that they stretched far to glide on the air for several seconds before curving downward back into the water with a hearty splash.
The Jekuas brought a smile to her face. “What are they?” she asked. Surely they were detailed in that bestiary of his, eschewing the need for her to scan them with her often-incorrect Jektionary.
Just as she expected, Balt was quick to answer. “Zins,” he said. “They generally stick to small family units like that. Tidal-Types, of course.”
“Of course.”
“No secondary Type.”
“Not even Wind?” she asked. Given their wing-like fins and their gliding, she would have assumed they possessed at least a few Wind abilities.
Balt shook his head and said, “They’re the sort of Jekua that usually has a pretty weak base, but you can build it up to be pretty powerful. They’re capable of lots of heavy-hitting Tidal moves.”
“Sounds cool,” said Niona. “I kinda want one. They’re cute.” She watched the water, waiting for the Zins to emerge again.
The fish burst forth from the water, gliding for a short while before disappearing underneath the water’s surface. Niona counted the seconds while they were airborne: twelve.
“They always out for that long?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” Balt replied. “Why?”
“I’m gonna try to imprint one.”
He laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
She turned to him, smirking. “Yeah, it’d be hard,” she admitted. Not only was there a considerable distance between the ship and the Zins, but ten or fifteen seconds to complete the imprinting spell would be challenging, to say the least. “C’mon, let’s make a game out of it. Bet you can’t get one.”
“I bet you can’t,” Balt chuckled.
“Whatever. It’ll be fun,” she insisted.
Still, he wasn’t convinced. “What are the stakes? What do I win if I beat you and imprint it first?”
“What do you win? What do you mean?”
“You said it’s a game. Games have winners and losers. What does the winner get?”
She laughed. “The winner gets a new Jekua, you idiot! You get a Zin!”
“I don’t even want one!”
“Oh, bullshit,” she grinned. “You want every Jekua.”
“Alright, fine, that’s fair. But still.”
“Winner gets a Zin and bragging rights, that’s it,” she then said.
Balt looked at her like she was crazy. “Bragging rights?” he said incredulously. “Who gives a shit about bragging rights?”
“You scared, Vana?” She nudged him. Maybe making a little competition out of this would get him to stop focusing on Pakree for a while, but still help with their training.
“I’m not scared, it just seems pointless,” he clarified.
Niona shrugged. “Whatever you say, scaredy-cat.” She paused, then said, “Oh, I get it. You’re just out of mana after summoning Dipper for so long.”
Dipper’s head angled up to look at her, and Balt scoffed. “I’ve got plenty of mana,” he said, sounding almost genuinely offended by the accusation.
“Ahh, okay. So you are just scared.”
He laughed. “Fine,” he conceded. “Let’s do it.” As he caved, Dipper morphed into a yellow blob and returned to his kayet. “I don’t have a memory card with me, though.”
“That’s alright.” She drummed her fingers on the metal railing, then told him she’d be right back. She hurried downstairs to retrieve her kayet and two L2 memory cards. When she returned, Balt was planted in the same spot, watching the water. “They still out there?” she asked, handing one of the memory cards over to him. He accepted it with a nod.
As if on cue, the pack of Zins showed themselves. Niona grinned giddily, watching the pastel fish momentarily flying.
“Alright, next one,” she said, loading the blank memory card into the device on her wrist. Balt did the same.
Once the Zins popped up again, soulclay burst out of their kayets and slithered through the air toward the gliding Jekuas. Niona’s pink soulclay was almost the same shade as the Jekuas, but not quite. Balt’s trailed a few feet behind hers, moving at a slower pace. Reaching the pack was kind of a stretch, but she’d extended her soulclay farther in the past, so she was able to manage it. She didn’t know if Balt would be able to, but he seemed fine. Her soulclay enveloped the top fin of one Zin, and the creature acted entirely unbothered. The substance was sliding down to start covering the Zin’s backside just as Balt’s reached a different one, but then the entire pack returned underwater.
“Shit,” Niona cursed. Their soulclay disappeared back into their respective kayets.
“Told you,” said Balt matter-of-factly.
She was not a fan of that smug tone. Now she had to imprint one of these things, if only to rub it in Balt’s face. “Just gotta be faster,” she said.
“I don’t think we can go that fast.”
“Maybe you can’t,” she countered. “Your soulclay moves like a snail.”
“No it doesn’t!”
“Slower than a snail, even. What’s slower than a snail?”
“Nothing, probably.”
“Wow. So your soulclay’s the slowest thing in the world?”
“Ha ha,” he said dryly.
They tried one more time, to the same pitiful result. At least this time, Balt managed to reach the Zins at the same time Niona did. Unfortunately, it made no difference.
Niona had a new strategy in mind, one that she opted not to share with Balt. It was a competition, after all. There were bragging rights on the line, for crying out loud.
While the Zins were still underwater, she sent her soulclay out to the spot where she estimated they would next emerge. Balt looked at her curiously, then understood what she was doing. He started to summon his soulclay as well.
“Wow!” she gasped. “Copying me. Shameful.”
“Yup.” He didn’t even deny it. The guy had no honor. No integrity. She couldn’t believe the gall of him.
Regardless, her plan worked. Her soulclay was hovering over the water just as the Zins leapt out, one of them gliding straight into magical pink substance. It looked slightly perturbed and confused, but it kept gliding right along anyway.
The soulclay then pressed into the Zin’s body, tightly adhering to its shape. Niona felt that familiar sensation a Summoner had when using the imprinting spell, that innate feeling of absorbing the Jekua’s essence, her magic learning everything there was to know about the creature.
And just like that, it was gone. Both the feeling and the Zin.
For a moment, her soulclay remained attached to it as it dove into the water, but it only took a few more seconds for the Zin to slunk out of her magic’s range and the spell broke off. Pink soulclay climbed up out of the lavender sea and returned to her kayet.
“Damn,” she muttered. “Thought I had it that time.”
“I did not,” Balt laughed. “I only got its nose covered. The thing looked like it was about to sneeze.”
She chortled at the image. “Can fishes sneeze?” she asked.
“I don’t know, actually. I also don’t know if a Zin is even technically a fish. Dolphins are mammals, so maybe it’s that.”
“Can dolphins sneeze, though?”
“I, uh…I don’t know.”
Niona nudged him again and said, “Check your bestiary, maybe it mentions it in there.”
The more they both failed at imprinting a Zin, the more they ribbed each other about it. As they stood there, Niona asked him if he was a fan of the Jules Jayne movies, and he told her he’d never seen one. She was scandalized by the admission. As it turned out, he was even less of a cinephile than her, which was honestly an accomplishment. He only ever watched new release, blockbuster types of movies; at least her dad had shown her some of the classics and instilled an enjoyment of arthouse flicks in her. Sure, she didn’t go see them all that often, but she had some appreciation for the weird shit. Not that Jules Jayne was all that weird, anyway—as far as indie movies went, they were pretty accessible. They made a plan to attend one of the screenings of Twice Seen to kickstart his love of the series. She made it clear that if he didn’t enjoy the movie, she wasn’t sure she could ever trust him again.
Soon, the sun began to set, painting the sky a pleasant shade of purple that blended into the sea at the horizon. The family of pastel pink Zins looked gorgeous up against the sky as they glided above the water, their fin-wings rippling in the wind.
Neither Niona nor Balt ever managed to imprint one, but they enjoyed the afternoon all the same.
7
Garden
It would be reasonable for a person to assume that the loss of the lab on Yuluhu was catastrophically crippling for the Facet. That was what Makénu had believed as they sailed away from the island, respirator masks clinging to his and his son Tano’s faces like parasites. After all, the lab had contained highly expensive pieces of equipment and loads of documentation about the organization’s efforts to harness the Veptilos’ energy. Now it was all nothing but rubble amongst the black sand.
He tried not to let these worries ail him as he sat on that boat, watching Tano sleep soundly beside him. It had been a long night for everyone, but for his ten-year-old son especially. The excitement of the evening, of the notion that he was leaving Yuluhu for the first time in his young life, had finally tuckered him out.
It brought joy to Makénu, seeing his and Adam’s boy so full of wonder and curiosity, but a jolt of anxiety reverberated through him as well. The world outside Yuluhu was a dangerous place for people with strihova; one look at them wearing their masks, and other people might instantly shun them. And why shouldn’t they? They could breathe a deadly disease into their faces at the drop of a hat if they so chose. And with all the physical deformities that strihova caused, why shouldn’t those people shield their eyes from them?
Makénu gently caressed the hard, red scabs that covered his left arm. The condition made him look reptilian. Pockmarks dotted the rest of his body, but they were worst on his left arm, sometimes even leaking pus and an unknown green substance. As far as strihova deformities went, his were on the lighter side, so he knew he shouldn’t complain. Tano’s only signs of strihova thus far were boils on the right side of his face that were perpetually popping and leaking pus, which would probably worsen with age. That was how it usually progressed.
