SAR ASCENDANT / Book 1: Incursion of the INDEN

Chapters 30 to 32

Chapter 30

"I have to tell you something," says Jona in a low voice.

Willow and Jax are in discussion of what it must have been like to be on a ship in the middle of such a large lake as Superior. Jax has described the ships pictured on the wall of the lightkeeper's house in minute detail. Willow has apologized to Jax in front of us, never taking his eyes from mine. Oh well, maybe that is the most his DNA will allow—all he's got. He cleaned and cooked his fish himself, ate it himself. We are sitting at the dining table in Hazel's well-stocked kitchen. Hazel took a plate with her, mumbled thanks and returned to her CompArray. Yeah.

"What?" I whisper. I poke through the remains of my ReconPortion. Some kind of rice, on the longish side, purple carrots, fluorescent kale—so bright we could have been eating in the dark.

"Not here." Jona speaks a little louder, pushes himself away from the table. "Care for a walk, Sar?"

"Sure," I reply, almost laugh. I rise, lead the way out of the room. Jona follows, and I sense Willow's eyes are a close second. We wind through the lab. Hazel's connected to Allgo, Allgo's connected to the CompArray. We are like ships passing beyond the reach of a beacon. Through the ShimmerDoor, up the stone stairs, through the base of the lighthouse, out into the night.

"There," Jona points.

The house we explored earlier. Dusk is upon us. Jona pulls a LaseLight from his pocket, rubs the beam into an ellipse. "I came back here when you were talking to Willow."

"Yes?"

"There's something funny about this house. You'll see what I mean."

He takes my hand, gently leads. Through the door, down the hallway, past the rooms we explored earlier, and up the stairs to the second level. There are three doors, all closed, and Jona heads for the middle one. He puts his fingers around the handle and pauses, turns. "Ready?"

"You are being so mysterious."

"Sorry. It's not like we need more of it."

"Open the door, farmer. I mean that in the best way."

"No offense taken, city girl." He pulls it open, light glows from the inside. There are six glass lamps set about the room, each with a real flame flickering inside a glass chimney.

"They're called hurricane lamps," explains Jona. "I found them in a storeroom downstairs, cleaned them up and set them alight."

I feel my breath catch in my throat. It's a bedroom. It's clean, unlike the dusty rooms we explored on the main floor. Silk falls from the ceiling and surrounds a bed piled high with white pillows. There are two side tables, each with small portraits in silver frames. A carpet on the floor has golden thread wound through. It reflects the light in arcing strands of dancing filament. Glass beads hang from the window frames, and through them I see the first stars in a sky released from its orange cloak to the darkness that invites imagination, sends a thrill up the spine, and turns up the heat. It's kind of spooky, kind of romantic. I reach back for Jona, spin and pull him into my outstretched arms.

"Thank-you," I say. "You did this for me."

"Our space."

"Our time," I say. I wonder, how long?

***

The night passes until the lightening dawn sky insists. Intrudes. I stretch, feel Jona's strong shoulders against me. I trace the muscle, draw a memory. Yeah. He stirs. I have to pee. So I rise, look about the room, different now in an orange glow. The pictures on the two side tables, forgotten in the passion of the night, follow me like eyes released from sleep. Men and women, boys, girls and babes from times past. I return their stares, register the smiles, the insistent shyness, the outright joy of the aged and recalcitrant obstinacy of youth. Am I thinking this gibberish? Well, a small miracle. Thank-you, Jona. Pleasure lays an egg, and the egg hatches.