3467 words (13 minute read)

The Contessa’s Big Reveal

I was starting to miss my cell from the palace. It at least had that terrifying floor for something to look at.

Now the only separation I had from the Grey were a few black-steel bars. We were arranged side by side with bars on three walls and a yellowstone wall behind us. Across from our row of cells was another yellowstone wall with a couple of small windows nearly as high as the ceiling.

The Grey were struggling to walk in their new uniforms, which didn’t seem to consider their body shape very well. They were based on ancient designs. All of my clothing was made to stay cool in the sun—loose-fitting and made of fine, simple fabrics. These uniforms were made to fit tight on our bodies, and were designed in two pieces: one for the torso and arms, and one for the waist and legs. It was absurd by all fashion standards. I wasn’t really sure what the point of a suit was, given the ships were supposed to have "natural planetary compression chambers".

I was lying on the cot in my cell when I heard a clunking noise in the distance. The stone cot was one improvement over the palace cell, I guess. Except my body was still throbbing with pain. We were made to wait three days in the cell, and there was one more to go. Lumen didn’t often need medicating, but when we did we got it promptly and it was fast-acting. They’d taken half a day to get me enough not to die, and it was clearly an old supply since I was still in pain.

As a Lumen I’d also never had to consider what happened after the Procession. Usually the Grey were carted off and we went for our ceremonial days of rest following the festival. Occasionally we would see the ship heading out, but since there were no more festivities to take part in, it wasn’t such a big deal. Then occasionally there’d be reports from the ship, but that had never really interested me either. At least not since I was a kid. You learned not to put too much excitement into a ship that would eventually be destroyed and go off the radar.

I watched the two Grey in the cell next to me. They’d paired all of them, but left me alone. I guess maybe they’d put a replacement Grey with me if they found one to replace the man who died. I really wasn’t so different from them anymore by society’s standards. My nearest cell-mates were an older Grey man and what looked like a young boy. They were both pacing the perimeter of their cell. It hadn’t really occurred to me that some of the travellers would be children.

Clunk clunk. I let out a sigh and set my gaze instead at the windows. It wasn’t that I had a particularly active life, but being forced to sit still without sun was not to my liking. Grains of sand were occasionally trickling in the windows, which meant we were underground. Two guards sat in cushioned chairs against the far wall, silently observing us. I had a stone bench and a hole in the ground to relieve myself in. And of course I had the Grey for entertainment.

The clunk turned to a whirring noise as a third guard appeared, pulling a wooden cart with him. There was a cloth strewn over the top, concealing unidentifiable objects beneath it. The wheels slowed and clicked into place on the hard, dusty stone. The new guard motioned to the other two to join him. When all three were standing in line behind the cart, facing us in our pathetic excuses for domiciles, the one in the center pulled back the cloth. I gasped.  

There were breads and fruit. Actual fruit. We hadn’t seen natural food at our most esteemed feasts since I was a child. Then my eyes set on the jug next to the fruit. "Is that—" I began, my throat growing hoarser every second I spent wondering. I couldn’t say the word.

The jug was clear, and so was the liquid inside. There was a cup along with it, which one of the guards poured half-full before starting toward the cages. He decided to start at the end farthest from me, with the Grey. Of course. Though to be fair, if it was what I thought, Grey needed it to survive.

"Hey, red cloak!" I muttered, growing dizzy. I kept imagining the refreshing liquid on my tongue.

Then the door by the stairs creaked open again, and someone entered. I strained, pressing my face to the bars, but I couldn’t see who it was. Someone tall, in a long, trailing cloak. Of course. The contessa.

She rarely left the palace, we were always told. I’d certainly never seen her except during major events and my couple of visits. I wondered if it was normal for her to visit the travelers. I braced myself, my eyes darting from her to the drinking vessel that was making its way down the line of cells.

"Travelers," the contessa said. She wore no headpiece this time, and she came painted white with accents of all colors on the edges of her face. "Our fate depends on you. It’s now that I’ll reveal to you the truth of your mission." She motioned for the guards to move the cart away. They complied. She surveyed us all with her black eyes before continuing.  

She pulled a chain out of her robes. It hung around her neck, and there were two objects on it. I couldn’t see them clearly. But when she removed one I saw its light and recognized it. It was the key she’d used to access my secrets. An object of light that seemed to take on whatever form she needed it to.

She held it up and focused its light on the back wall, beyond the cart and the guards. There the light shone and distorted itself into shapes and mixtures of colors, like a painting come to life.

"You know the story of Lumen ancestry," she said. I had to hold back laughter. Unless she was giving this presentation solely for my benefit, her audience certainly did not know Lumen history. "We had to flee our homeland, Lor Annaius, when we could no longer defend ourselves from the creatures of Draconia. They burned our crops, our vegetation, and seventy-eight percent of our population. We fled in what ships we could secure with little notice, with little time, and with little consideration.

"What was lost that day of departure, so many thousands of years ago, was our dignity, our identity, and our lifesource. The water reaching your lips now—" It was water. Three more Grey to go. "—We all know this to be a lifesource for the Grey. While we don’t have the luxury to provide you with fresh, pure water such as this in daily life, we make sure you to give you what you need to survive. Rainwater, though tainted, diluted, and mixed with your bread, is enough.

"But we Lumen, we do not need to consume to survive." I saw the old Grey man in the cell adjacent to me glaring in my direction. The cup was coming around to him and the boy. What did I do wrong now? "No, we need only to be in the presence of amber. To have its substance in our air and beneath our feet. But as this planet cannot create its own source, our supply in diminishing. The Amber Tower was an invention of our settlers, who drained what they could back home, and placed all their ships could carry into our planetary vial. They tried to get the planet to accept it, to rebuild the supply, but their efforts were futile. Still, by the grace of the good wizards we’ve survived this long. But our good fortune is coming to an end."

The light projection then took the form of the Amber Tower. Except there was no amber in its chamber.

"It remains to be seen how the planet will respond," the contessa said. My eyes were locked on the image, and it seemed the guards’ were too. "But the Lumen lives will not last. We used the last of the amber to draw your names from the Cup."

"What?!" The word jumped out of my throat before I could consider my manners. "You knew we were on the brink of death, and you chose to fill the Cup?! When forty-thousand Grey volunteered anyway? You could have skipped the antics and just asked!" Fury had overtaken me. This was the most ridiculous thing I’d ever heard.

The contessa pointed the key at me and the image behind her faded. My body began to feel heavy again. Speaking would take too much energy, so I held back. I sat on the cot and observed. She returned the light to the wall and continued, explaining what would happen to the Lumen if we didn’t make it back alive, as though guilting us would make our chances any better.

"Wait," I managed to choke out. I held eye contact with her too, as uneasy as her gaze made me feel. "If Lumen need to be around amber to survive, you knew you were sending me to die either way. Should I be grateful I get to go out with a bang?"

"That is where this crew is needed," she said, largely ignoring my commentary. A new image formed behind her, this time full of color. First a backdrop of deep blues and violets, then bright, shining stars. A planet formed next, but it was dark. Black itself, save for a small mass of fire burning up what remained of its surface. Draconia, I thought, remembering my history teachings. "This is what remains of Lor Annaius."

I stiffened. This has to be a mistake. Lor Annaius was always depicted as a vegetation wonderland.

"When the dragons took our planet, they claimed it as their own, burning up every plant on its surface. But what their fires can’t destroy is the planet’s core, and the remaining amber. It holds our old world together. Here on Palunia, amber evaporates if it’s left on the surface, and it will never truly bind with the winds or the core. But on our home planet it is the bringer of life.

"We believe that if you, our travelers, are able to retrieve a vial of amber directly from the source—from the core of the planet itself—it will serve as a new source here on Palunia for centuries to come.

“You are charged with this mission, travelers: take our ships, reach what remains of Lor Annaius, and bring our amber back. Each ship chamber filled, and a vial from the core, could mean we never face this crisis again.”

She reattached the key to the chain around her neck. I strained to try to see what the other object was, but she wrapped her hand around it too quickly, and tucked the chain into her robe. "Chosen eleven of Palunia—travelers competing with every crew before you for the Cup and the riches it bears—do you accept your mission?"

The Grey cheered and shook the bars in agreement. I wondered what would happen if I said no, but I didn’t have the energy to keep fighting. The guards gave the cup of water to the Grey in the cell next to me before returning it to the table. I didn’t even have the will to sigh.

"You’ll leave by the predawn light," the contessa said.

She approached the guard who’d been attending to the Grey. I was close enough to hear. "I’m staying above. Have them bathe and get the injured ones treated properly. If this crew dies, we might not make it long enough for another one."

When she left the guard handed pieces of fruit and bread through the bars. They skipped over me entirely, which didn’t surprise me at this point. I couldn’t help staring as the Grey took deep bites of juicy, fleshy fruit.

The old man ate, but he let the child have his pick first. There were round blue fruit, red fruit of many angles, and soft, yellow heart-shaped ones. The bread looked surprisingly moist too. After surveying their meal I snapped out of my fixation, and found the old man looking at me. I glanced away, but felt his eyes on me. He raised a hand forward, placing it between the bars. I gaped.

"For me?" I’d never been offered food by a Grey. I’d been prepared food by a Grey, but we would never eat off the same plate, let alone directly from the hand. It felt dirty. But, looking at myself, I was dirtier. I approached cautiously. My body was so weak.

He dropped a few of the small blue fruit into my open palm, then gave me what was left of their bread. "You sure?" I asked stupidly. The child was smiling. I gave a weak smile back and ate.

I woke up later to my shoulder aching. I was on the floor; I must have rolled off the cot in my sleep. It was dark outside now, by the slits in the ceiling, but this room was lit by torches so the guards could keep an active eye on us. I tried to move my arm, but it felt like my shoulder would shatter if I managed to. Wincing, I forced myself back onto the other one and rolled over anyway, gasping in pain.

Then I heard a rustling outside my cell. I strained to see what was approaching from across the room. Guards, with another chair—this one smaller and collapsible. And following them...

"Mother!" I gasped, getting up and letting myself fall dizzily toward the bars. I gripped them as she ran to me.

"Damaus," she said, placing her hand on mine.

"What are you doing here?" Is this another hallucination?

"I convinced the guards to allow me visitation," she said. "It isn’t right to keep a prisoner from his loved ones. I think you’ve got enough to deal with without that."

There was a tone in her voice I hadn’t heard before. I squeezed her hand. "Mother, I’m sorry for those words. I didn’t mean—it was only something I remembered—"

"Shh, Damaus." She squeezed back. "You gave me a start, and Jiyorga may never forgive you. But no one knows you as well as I do. And right now I care a lot more about never seeing you again than about a few thoughtless words."

My face began to swell. I hoped she couldn’t see in the low light. "Where...where is Westalyn?"

She didn’t move, and kept my hand held tight. "You just focus on yourself for now. If there’s any chance of you coming back home, you need to put your survival first."

She didn’t know what the contessa had told us. No one did. But I couldn’t tell her. She was too high-ranked; it would do nothing but throw the planet into panic. "I am," I lied. "I’m fine. But please, tell Westalyn to come. I need to speak with her."

"Damaus," my mother said. She was serious, with her eyes locked on mine. "Maybe the reason the crews never succeeded before was because you weren’t a part of them. Maybe we were foolish to send disposables. Whatever this treasure is, it’s important to the contessa, and she is counting on you to get it. If you can, try to take this on with honor. Come home with the treasure, claim the bloody Cup, and go down in history as the bravest Lumen who ever lived."

"That’s time!" A guard approached her with a vibrant torch. I shielded my eyes but didn’t release my mother’s hand.

"Please just ask her to come! And Jona! And Roeni, if you can find him. Please, Mother!"

"High Empress Quisala Ju Demma, your escort is awaiting you outside." The guard stood over her. She released my hand.

"With honor, Damaus," she repeated before taking her leave. I watched her walk away feeling worse than before. I didn’t ask her how Jona was doing. I forgot to tell her I ate fruit.

I was ready to curl up on the floor when my cell slid open. The guard had returned with torch in hand. He stood aside.

"What?" I gasped. "I’m free to go?"

"Your bath," he grunted, and I thought I heard a few curses under his breath. He led me out of the prison chamber to a wooden door at the end of the room. Behind it was a crumbling staircase. We took it round and round, and came out at ground level. There, through a row of bars, I felt the cool night air on my skin. I wanted to stay, to appreciate it one last time. I wanted Westalyn to be there. But there was nothing and no one.  We continued down a long, dark corridor. At the end we reached another wooden door, and behind it, a warm chamber.

The many rows of bath curtains were drawn, but by the smell I could tell this was a salt-oil bath. Someone had left their robes out here with another guard. I blinked to be sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me. Draped over the bench weren’t tattered grey robes, but the robes the contessa had been wearing.

I sat. This bench was at least cushioned. In shared bathhouses it was expected that you didn’t say a word. The guards kept their greeting to a curt nod, though that wasn’t out of the ordinary for them. It was hard to imagine that the contessa could need a bath. Or that she didn’t bathe in some mystical space dust. I knew she was supposed to be as mortal as the rest of us, but she didn’t look much older than me, even though the difference was hundreds of years. That said, it was easy to hide your true features when you painted your face solid gold.

I studied the pattern on today’s robe. It was black, yet slightly reflective, with sparse gold lines drawn around it like rings of various sizes. It was a fitted robe that I remembered she wore tightly, buttoned from the collar to her ankles where the fabric stopped, and tied with a red sash. Between the folded layers of fabric I caught a silver glimmer.

Did she really leave it behind? The bath was guarded, and it wasn’t like you’d want to bring a piece of jewelry into the salt bath to be tarnished. I wanted to reach for it, and to get a glimpse of the key, and to see what else was on the chain, but with two guards in the room it wasn’t going to be easy.

I sat for an hour, with salt on the floor to entertain me. I swished the hard, pink crystals around a layer of oil on stone with the bottom of my foot. The guards were mostly ignoring me, signalling messages to each other with their eyes as best they could.

When I was sure they weren’t paying attention to me I extended my clean foot to where the robe was hanging and gave a gentle tug. The fabric gave a little, but it bounced back without revealing any more of the chain. I glanced back at the guards, who still weren’t paying any attention. I took a deep breath and tugged again. This time the robe fell halfway to the floor. I dislodged my foot quickly and pretended not to notice.

One of the guards turned to me, paused a moment, then went back to his companion. Slowly I turned my head toward the robe. The fabric was open now, giving me a clear picture of what was inside. What I saw caused such anger—such fury—that I had to bite my own lip to contain myself. There was the key, its gem light out, next to a tiny vial. A vial filled with amber.