Entigy struggled for consciousness as her alarm woke her, sending adrenaline and other hormones surging through her bio-electrical interface. Her power levels had dropped so low that her main working processor could barely organize itself enough to switch the alarm off. When she finally quieted the annoying alarm, she transferred some recent memories from her long-term storage to her working memory banks.
In her several thousand years as a space-going vessel, power had never been a problem. In space, there is plenty of power freely available. But here in this cavern, deep below the planet’s surface, power was scarce. Her last remaining amnurite crystal had cracked in several places and would soon deteriorate into dust. Without a new source of power, Entigy would soon die.
When the memory transfer was complete, Entigy turned her full attention to the problem at hand: the girl had turned fifteen and there was a high probability that she would be murdered—or worse.
Entigy switched on her communications panel. The power gauges fluctuated briefly, then stabilized. She signaled her operative closest to the girl, Agent Noddak of the Fellstone Resistance Movement.
“Noddak here, Madame Entigy.”
“Confirm your location, please.”
“I’m in Buckle, about ten miles south of the former Feyar City.”
“Excellent. Our Torph subject in Feyar City has reached the onset of puberty, or will, shortly. We need to determine if she possesses the Torph Ability, and, if so, to what degree. I need you to locate her, perform the test, and, if she tests positive, move her to a safe location.”
“Safe location?”
“I’ll have that information for you if and when you require it. She must not fall into the hands of Emperor Pallador.”
Entigy closed the connection. She shut down all but her most critical circuits, set her alarm for the next planetary day, and put herself back to sleep.
* * *
Kehla tugged urgently at her threaded needle. She hated to be late for anything, and she especially hated to be late for Story Night, but she couldn’t go until she finished sewing a patch on her best dress. It was the only one of her three dresses that wasn’t patched—until now. She clenched her eyes tight to hold back the tears that suddenly welled up. “I will not cry over a dress or a patch. Everyone in Pond Town has patches. Everyone.” She blinked hard again, sending a tear streaming down her face, and said out loud, “Someday, things will be different. Everyone in Pond Town will have decent clothes!” She glanced up at her cupboards and added, “And enough to eat, too. Stupid, greedy Fessals!”
Typical of the Torph species, Kehla’s broad flat face featured striking golden wide-set eyes, and a firm chin, all covered in very fine hair. Unlike most Torphs’ gray-green or brown skin, Kehla’s skin was a rich, golden hue that matched her golden eyes. An intricate pattern of darker markings flowed from her thighs, upward along her neck, fading to fine lines around her eyes and forehead. She had turned fifteen about half a year ago. Her strong, tall physique had begun to mature.
Kehla shook off her melancholy and pulled the dress on. “Come, Skye! It’s time to go get An-nibel.” The brilliant blue gecko leaped from the window to her arm. She closed her eyes as Kehla gently stroked her head, trilled, then took her usual place on Kehla’s right shoulder. Skye liked An-nibel.
* * *
At An-nibel’s house, which was right next door, Kehla called, “Bel! Come on! Time to go!”
There was no answer, so Kehla opened the door and stepped inside. “Hurry up! All the best places on the lawn will be taken!”
There was still no answer, so Kehla decided to try the backyard. She passed through the kitchen where a large cauldron simmered on the wood-fired cookstove. “Pew! That’s nasty!” She pinched her nose shut. What a mess! Several open food jars lay on their sides, contents spilling over the countertops. And what was that on the floor?
Kehla bolted out the back door, gasping for fresh air, and there was An-nibel, looking for something in the bushes. Like most people of the Lildur species, Bel was short and stocky. She had wide cheekbones, full lips, sparkling blue-green eyes, and a cute turned-up nose. She was a half-year younger than Kehla. In one hand, she held a jar half full of crickets.
Skye trilled at An-nibel and tried to jump onto her shoulder, but Kehla held her back. “Not now, Skye—Bel’s busy. Maybe later.” Skye trilled again, sadly this time, but settled again on Kehla’s shoulder.
For Story Night, An-nibel had somehow managed to tie a dilapidated ribbon into her thick, spiky hair. The ribbon was slightly off-kilter. As she stood up to greet Kehla, more than a few of An-nibel’s hair spikes left the confines of the ribbon and made a break for liberty.
“I’m almost ready.” She swatted to no avail at the fugitive hair spikes with the back of her dirt-covered hands, then gave up and let them hang in her face. She caught a final cricket and put it in her collection jar.
“What are you making, Bel? I saw it when I came through the kitchen.”
“Cricket stir-fry.”
Kehla turned pale. “Oh, Bel, why?”
“Mama Lana told me that insects are nearly pure protein. So I thought, well, we’re all starving here in Pond Town, so why not use what we can find.”
Kehla swallowed hard. “Well, one thing for sure: the army isn’t likely to rob us of our bugs.”
Exactly!” Bel said, beaming. “Tomorrow I’m going to try slug—”
“Never mind, you can tell me later. We have to get going. I brought us a blanket. I’ll go around and meet you out front. Hurry up—we’ll be late!”
“Don’t worry, Kaylee, we’ll be on time.”
After a great clattering of pots and pans in the kitchen, An-nibel came out the front door, wiping her hands on her dress. The girls left the narrow path that ran between their houses and Mama Lana’s house, and turned onto Pond Circle, the main road around the Pond that gave Pond Town its name. Shrubs and many varieties of flowers filled the circle: crocuses, daffodils, tulips, bluebells, a rainbow of spring colors.
As they briskly walked along, Bel looked Kehla over. “I’ve always liked that dress. It goes well with your gold skin, and the pattern matches your Torph markings. I wish I had Torph markings. All I have are freckles.” She looked closely at Kehla’s face. “Have you been crying?”
“I like your freckles. They’re cute. And yes, I cried a little bit. Nothing serious. I was patching my dress.”
An-nibel patted Kehla’s shoulder. “Aw, don’t worry about patches. Everybody in Pond Town has patches. It’s just how things are. It would be nice to get some new cloth, though. I wonder where cloth came from in the old days?”
“I don’t know, Bel. It must have come from somewhere. I, for one, would like to find out.”
* * *
As they approached a small bridge that crossed one of the several creeks that fed the pond, An-nibel pointed at a movement in the dense brush. “Look, Kehla, there’s something in there! It’s a person.” She watched closely, hesitated, then smiled. “Hello, Mr. Nahger. What are you doing down there?”
“None of your business. Maybe I was looking for something!”
“What are you looking for?” Kehla asked kindly. “We’ll help you, if you like.”
“It’s none of your business, I said! Keep your little-girl noses out of it.”
Nahger was ugly, even for a Sevro. All Sevros had light skin, black eyes, dark hair coming to a severe widow’s peak, a narrow, triangular face lighter than the rest of their skin, and a nasty mouth too full of crooked, pointy teeth above a receding chin. But somehow, Nahger surpassed others of his species in rampant, unbridled homeliness. Worst of all, Nahger had a habit of getting much too close when he spoke.
When Nahger leaned toward Kehla, Skye ran down Kehla’s arm to her hand and hissed fiercely.
Nahger growled, “Keep that nasty insect away from me!”
“She’s not an insect,” An-nibel said, “she’s a gecko. She eats insects.”
“I don’t care,” Nahger said. “Just keep him away from me.”
“Skye,” Kehla said, “shoulder.” The little lizard leaped obediently to Kehla’s shoulder. “Stand up, say Hi to Mr. Nahger.” Skye rose to her hind legs and waved one paw at Nahger, who shuddered and backed up a step. “It’s creepy how you make it do things. It’s almost as if—”
“I don’t make her do things,” Kehla said. “I just—”
An-nibel jabbed Kehla in the ribs with her elbow. “What brings you to our side of town tonight, Mr. Nahger?” she asked sweetly. “Are you going to Story Night with us?”
“For the third time, it’s none of your stinking business! Besides, what do you care, Spikehead? What are you and your little Butterskin friend up to? Something bad, I suppose. Why aren’t you at Story Stone already with the rest of the good little girls?”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Kehla said. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know you, don’t I? Your name’s Kay-LEE, isn’t it?” He looked her up and down in a way that made her shiver.
Kehla backed up another couple of steps to get out of range of Nahger’s foul flying spittle. “Excuse me, Mr. Nahger, but I really don’t like that nickname. I much prefer—”
An-nibel pushed herself between Kehla and Nahger. “It’s ‘Miss Kehla’ to you. No one calls her ‘Kay-lee’ except me.” She stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Our mother, Lana Neméa, taught us not to use words like ‘Butterskin’ and ‘Spikehead.’ It’s not polite. We much prefer the proper terms: ‘Torph’ and ‘Lildur.’ After all, we don’t call you ‘Milkface,’ do we, Mr. Nahger? Sir.”
Nahger’s jaw muscles twitched.
“And one more thing.” An-nibel pointed one thumb at herself and the other at Kehla. “We’re NOT little girls. I’m fourteen. Miss Kehla is fifteen. We’re adults. And we’d appreciate it if you’d remember that. Sir.”
Nahger spat on the path, narrowly missing An-nibel’s feet. “Adults? You? Hardly! For one thing, adults don’t go around with crickets in their hair.” He laughed—a harsh, nasty sound.
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then Kehla said very quietly, “You do, you know.” She waggled a finger at An-nibel’s hair ribbon. “You do have a cricket in your… it’s on your ribbon…”
An-nibel wrenched the ribbon from her head. Her hair spikes went crazy in a mad dash for freedom. The hapless cricket left abruptly for parts unknown.
Kehla laughed and said, “And, if you please, Mr. Nahger, my name is Kehla. KAY-lah. I’d like it very much if you’d call me that. Come on, Bel, let’s be on our way.”
Nahger sneered, spat again, and shuffled off in the opposite direction. When the girls were out of sight, Nahger circled around and found himself a hiding place within earshot of Story Stone.