Chapter Text
The incident happened on a remote island so far away from main archipelago of the south sea isles that the village wasn’t even marked on a map. There was a volcano jutting out of the sea, rocky shores all around, and a single fishing village with less than thirty people in it. No forests, no fields, no ports of call. There wasn’t anything there to be missed.
The volcanic eruption was predicted to occur at exactly two in the morning on the twenty-first of the sixth month, and the Convocation ruled that the islanders should be evacuated but the island itself was not to be saved. Volcanic eruptions were a regularity in the southern seas. To save a single tiny island with an even smaller village was impractical.
As Azem, Venat was charged with leading the evacuation, but instead of delegating the task to her underlings, she went herself. She rode Argos across the brilliant blue waves, reveling the salt-sweet wind and the cool sea spray. The boat with her team of field medics and rescuers raced alonside her, and they knew better than to call for Venat to return on board. Azem did as she pleased.
The fishing village was little more than a handful of ramshackle huts with a few listless, flea-bitten dogs wandering the dirt paths. The few villagers that showed up with their meager belongings to move out wore robes similar in design to the robes of the more populated islands a day’s sail away, but it was clear that they wove the robes themselves from coarse cloth instead of creating them. Old fishing nets lay in a tangle along the rotting wood wharf, and most of the skiffs were abandoned along a pebble beach.
But still, Venat admired their glass fishing floats, bound in rope and glittering as bright blue as the sea. She admired the orange poppies that grew in the cracks, the soft beach grass and sweet alyssum, the potted succulents and aloe vera. She admired the bits of shell and sand dollars plastered on the doors of the fishing huts and the faded murals painted along the crumbling stone walls that surrounded the village.
All of this would be swallowed by fire tomorrow.
The evacuation proceeded smoothly with Venat at the helm. Her presence soothed, and Argos’s gentle affection calmed even the most anxious elder hobbling aboard the boat. Personal belongings, big and small, were packed up and stowed away with swift Amaurotine efficiency. Venat double-checked and triple-checked to see if everyone was accounted for, and by sunset they were ready to sail away to safer shores.
And then, a fisherwoman spoke up as they sailed: “I haven’t seen that child around. Has anyone seen her?”
Venat froze. She pulled up the list of names the village head gave her and did a head count. Twenty-six names on the list, and twenty-six people on the boat.
“What is the name of this child?” Venat asked. There was a nervous murmuring.
“Apologies, Master Azem. We, um, don’t know this child. They are not one of us.”
“What?”
The villagers gave their accounts. One saw the child appear in the village after a summer storm. Another caught the child stealing dried fish and chased them away. Yet another said they saw the child chasing an oreais over the volcanic scree.
“And none of you thought to care for them? To bring them along?” Venat was dumbfounded.
“The child was a thief, Master Azem, stole right out of the house—”
“Stole most of my catch just last week too, and you can’t just create coryphaena, it just isn’t the same to buyers—”
“Like I said, Master Azem,” said an elder. “The child is not one of us.”
Cold fury rose in her heart and bubbled up her throat. Wordlessly, she called Argos to her side and mounted him.
“Do not wait for me,” said Venat to her team. “I will return with the child, or not at all.”
And then Argos leapt out over the sea.
When she made it back to shore, the island was wrapped in darkness, and the abandoned village sat silently waiting. The sun melted into the horizon with great crimson streaks. Venat conjured an aetheric lamp and began her search at once.
“Argos, divide yourself. Look through every part of the island, behind every boulder, up every tree. Everywhere, do you understand me? We are not leaving this child.” Venat searched house to house, throwing open doors and windows, checking in the cellars. Calling, calling. She searched through the schoolhouse, the village hall, inside every boat left behind. She forced open the automatic doors of the sole grocery market and checked every aisle, the backroom, the restrooms, the custodian’s closet. Venat was climbing a crate of abandoned crystals for manifesting cheap liquor to check if there was anyone in the ceiling when Argos reappeared, barking.
“Did you find the child? Show me to them, now!”
Argos took off into the darkening sky with Venat holding her lantern aloft. They soared away from the village, up the slope of the volcano, all the way into the little knolls covered in rough patchy grass and gnarled trees. They landed high above the village where the wind blew off Venat’s hood and whipped her snowy hair about her head. Further above her, the volcano billowed smoke and coughed embers. It was about to wake.
There, in the shadow of a large boulder braced against the wind, was a little tent made of sticks and tarp. A copy of Argos waited beside the tent, patiently wagging his tail. Venat sighed a deep sigh of relief, and slowly knelt down by the entrance.
“Hello, there,” Venat gently called out. “Are you inside? Are you hurt? Please, come out. I mean you no harm.”
Silence.
“Please,” Venat asked again. “It isn’t safe here on this island anymore. The other villagers have already gone to the south seas archipelago. I am here to bring you to them. To safety.”
There was a shuffling noise, and finally the tent flap opened. Out came the skinniest little girl Venat had ever seen. Her tattered robes hung loosely on her small, bony frame. Her long red hair was matted and filthy. Her mask was grimy and cracked, revealing one bright orange eye. Her shoes were so worn and threadbare that it barely covered the soles of her feet, and her little feet were cut and bruised from climbing and running around the rocks. She cradled a seagull with a bandaged wing in her arm, and the bandages looked as if they were torn from her own robes.
Venat stared, stunned, at the state of the little girl. She wanted to scoop her up, run her a hot bath, feed her, and bring her to the Words of Emmerololth immediately. As if sensing Venat’s shock, the little girl held the seagull tighter and began to withdraw back into her tent.
Venat took a few quick calming breaths. She reached her hand out to the little girl.
“I am Azem. I’m from the city of Amaurot, far away from here. I’m here to help everyone get away from this island before the volcano erupts. Please, tell me your name.”
The little girl looked at the outstretched hand, then looked at Argos softly glowing beside Venat. A silver lady and a golden dog, come to bear her away to safety. But—
“Kore,” mumbled the little girl.
“Kore! A fine name.” Venat smiled, but her thoughts were reeling once more. What kind of a name was that for a girl? It was like giving a dog the name “Dog.”
“Please, Kore, come with me and Argos and we will help bring you to your family. I’m sure they are desperately looking for you. You were lost here all by yourself for such a long time now.”
Kore shook her head, and pointed at the dark sea. Venat frowned. “So your family is among the villagers after all? Then why would they—”
Kore shook her head again, more vigorously this time, then stared at the ground. Her nose stung with rising tears. She sniffed and quickly rubbed her eyes, jostling the injured seagull and making it squawk.
Gently, so gently, Venat laid her hand on Kore’ trembling shoulder. “Please, Kore. Can you tell me what happened?”
Silence.
Very well then, Venat thought. She would have to peer through the walls of the little girl’s soul. Venat closed her eyes, and looked.
(There was a bright yellow sailboat, and two adults in Amaurotine robes with their child. As the boat cruised along the waves on navigational magicks, the parents were writing page after page of articles and sending them through their data crystal. Within the boat’s cabin were maps and posters and paintings and souvenirs of all kinds from all over the star.
The sunny blue skies and tranquil waves vanished. Typhoon thunderheads swirled above, and towering waves tossed and battered the boat as if it were a toy. Screaming, sobbing, a little girl in a life jacket clung to a table leg and the boat turned and flipped. A woman’s voice howled a single name.
Splinters of driftwood floated on a gem-bright sea. A little girl laid under the sun on a rough pebble beach.)
Venat snapped out of her vision, and found Kore staring at her. Before Venat could say anything, the injured seagull gave a shrill cry and stretched its wings. The fraying bandages fell off as it beat its wings, and it soared into the dusk sky. Kore watched it fly further, further, and then it was gone.
“I’m sorry, Kore,” said Venat. She reached forward and wrapped Kore into a hug. She couldn’t help. “I’m so sorry.”
The silver lady was apologizing. The golden dog was licking her face with a warm tongue. Kore leaned into the hug, and thought of a blanket wrapped around her, the shine of stars at night, and the soft roar of the sea.