This news had the same effect on Alteria as if she had received a bucket of cold water down her back. She really counted on having her friend by her side the next day, a way for her to not change her mind and give herself courage. Knowing that she would be alone in the Grand Square lowered her spirits a notch.
"I know you were expecting me to come with you," the young Nimean continued, "but I can't leave my mother alone right now. But you can just stop by to see us when you come back; Mom will be very happy to have a visitor."
Alteria remained silent for a moment, digesting her childhood friend's decision, her only friend in truth. This young girl was the only person who had always considered her equal to the other Nimeans. But her decision was understandable; Vanyera needed constant attention, and her husband couldn't always be by her side.
"You resent me for wanting to leave Nimeo, don't you?" Alteria asked her friend.
"No," the teenager replied. "I resent the islanders for making you want to leave. I'm not stupid, Alteria, I know that unlike my mother, your grandparents don't have much money. And since there are few people here who would accept you working for them, just look at how difficult it is for you to sell your fish and shells that you collect near the coral barrier, you have little chance of being able to support yourself. So, what options do you have left? Leave here or get married. And I know you're about as eager as I am to see yourself chained to a home for the rest of your days. Especially since the man who agrees to marry you, excuse me for what I'm going to say, will undoubtedly be a man who has been rejected by all the others."
Alteria didn't say anything; Lumia had perfectly grasped the problem. But she didn't want her friend to hold a grudge against all her fellow islanders for rejecting her. After all, if the young woman wanted to leave the island, it was also because she wanted to explore the world, and that had been her wish long before the issue of marriage arose.
"I don't want to get married, especially not to someone from here..."
Lumia swallowed her last bite of crab, then wiped her hands on a cloth that was sticking out of her own bag before sitting down next to her friend.
"I don't think the men on the mainland are very different," she objected.
"I'll give them the benefit of the doubt."
"With your talent for shell hunting, you might just find an hidden pearl. A splendid sailor for the child of the storm!"
"Don't call me that!" Alteria retorted a little brusquely.
The young woman didn't like that name; it was a name whispered in the streets of the port when she went there. A name that, though poetic, represented to her the idea that people had of her.
"But it's such a lovely name; it sounds like the title of a story. The Legend of the Child of the Storm! A sad and painful love story that would ultimately end well."
Alteria found nothing to say in response; her friend's answer had caught her off guard. She wasn't used to imagining love stories. She thanked the night for concealing the blush on her face in the darkness. The teenager seemed satisfied with her effect, as she smiled and hugged her tightly. The young woman returned the embrace.
The fire was dying down, and the clouds obscured the moon, plunging their camp into darkness. When Lumia pulled away from her, Alteria couldn't see her face. But as she fell asleep a little later, she felt her friend's tears drying in the hollow of her neck.
Alteria had been walking for an hour, her bare feet sinking into the warm sand of the beach, when she arrived at the barren dune that overlooked the city of Saisio. When she had woken up in the morning, the traces of the camp had vanished. She had realized that Lumia couldn't wait for her to wake up before leaving to join her mother. So, she had set out on her own to reach the only major city on the island of Nimeo, Saisio.
The sea stretched out to her right in all its infinite beauty. The turquoise waters lazily reflected the bright sun. In the distance, it was hard to distinguish where the ocean ended and the sky began, as their colors were nearly identical. But this sight, as enchanting as it was, was all too familiar to Alteria for her to still be amazed by it. The island was undoubtedly beautiful, but it didn't change with the seasons. Only the sea, in its anger or its calmness, managed to alter this uniform landscape. No snow, no fog, and very few interplays of light between clouds and sunbeams that managed to resist them. According to sailors, Nimeo was a pearl of beauty, but for the young woman, it was too monotonous, frozen in time.
Once she reached the hill that offered an unobstructed view of Saisio, Alteria paused to observe the city. The capital of Nimeo, designated as the capital of the archipelago even though the other islands were little more than sandy islets inhabited by a few outsiders cut off from the rest of the world, was a harbor located in the bay on the western tip, closest to the mainland. Its buildings alone could tell the sad history of Nimeo.
In the past, the small island had been a significant colony of the Empire because it allowed the importation of goods that the Empire would have otherwise been forced to buy from its neighbors. Exotic fruits, products from warm seas, rare woods—seeds of all kinds grew at an astonishing rate on the slopes of the volcano, and the waters teemed with abundant life. At that time, Saisio had been a thriving city, its architecture — unique throughout the Empire, featuring a structure of concentric half-circles, centered around the port. The houses, with façades made of corals collected from the reef, adorned the city with vibrant colors. The frontages of the houses were originally white due to the materials used, but it was common for their owners to choose a bright color to distinguish them from others. Moreover, the ability to afford dyes, imported from the mainland, was a sign of wealth.
Travelers who made a stop in Saisio often marveled at the fact that there were no fortifications to protect the city. No walls encircled the city, and no towers stood on the beach to watch for potential attackers. What they took for evidence of the islanders' recklessness was, in fact, a particular feature of Nimeo. An imposing coral barrier surrounded it, allowing only a small channel for ships to reach the port. This natural feature had always protected Saisio from attacks, as no combat ship had a low enough waterline to pass the reef without ending in a wreckage.
However, now that trade with the mainland was diminishing, Saisio was declining. The houses no longer followed the original circular plan; their once-vibrant façades had been faded by the sun and rainwater. As for the population, the exodus to the mainland, which continued to attract new generations, was gradually draining it of its remaining strength. The island's former greatness was reduced to the governor's palace, nestled on the edge of the forest, slightly off-center, resembling a marble gem amidst the dying city.
Alteria had been fortunate to be raised far from Saisio and its misery. Life wasn't easy every day in the small house near the ocean, but at least the young woman was shielded from the perils of the city. Everyone knew that Saisio was a true jungle for young Nimeans, where only the children of wealthy artisans survived, protected, and the strongest and most ruthless thrived. Young men who couldn't survive in this hostile world often chose to become sailors on ships that docked at the port, escaping the city and its dangers. As for the girls... well, if they couldn't find husbands or hadn't received an education, they all knew that the establishments frequented by sailors at the port would quickly welcome them.
Tearing herself away from the gloomy contemplation of the city that was now just a shadow of its former splendor, Alteria put her shoes back on, which she had taken off to walk in the sand, and resumed her way to the city. Ignoring the merchants on the main street and their colorful stalls, which usually never failed to attract her with their colors and delicate scents, she hurried to the Grand Square of Saisio, where a large crowd had gathered.
But as impressive as the crowd on the square was that day, it was nothing compared to what the old folks had experienced, those who had lived several centuries ago. The day was important, but the Ceremony of the Calling had lost its significance over time, and now only those directly involved and their families participated. The island had to accept reality—just like Saisio, just like trade with the outside world, traditions from the mainland were fading away, and Alteria understood that soon the island would become an enclave isolated from the rest of the Empire.
The Grand Square of Saisio was grand in name only. It was a circular esplanade with pavement worn by time and the passing of carts, around which the shops of merchants who could afford the exorbitant tax imposed by the governor were clustered. The smells of the nearby warves were masked as best as possible by the aromas of the food stalls, and above the rooftops of the buildings, the masts of a few ships in port that day could be seen rising. Alteria quickly noticed that one of them, bearing the flag of the imperial navy, belonged to a warship, which was strange since the maritime routes to Nimeo were no longer of interest even to pirates.
In the center of the square stood a platform of polished white marble, usually adorned with a statue of Emperor Euphene and Empress Coral, the young Nimean whose marriage had linked the archipelago to the empire. Instead of the statue of the two sovereigns, which had been moved for the occasion, a gray tent proudly stood before which many young people were queuing. Preferring to wait in the shade until the line became less imposing, Alteria circled the square and eventually found a place to sit, shielded from the sun, a little away from the crowd. By chance, she chose to sit next to Tarnön's shop, the most renowned blacksmith on the island.
Unlike many of the merchants on the Grand-Place, who used and abused their good relations with the governor and his family, Tarnön had acquired his fortune and reputation through hard work. He had learned his craft on the mainland, under the guidance of a master metalworker, and then returned to his native island to have a family. Alteria was familiar with his two sons, Lwod and Nirchaïn, who were roughly her age and served as apprentices to their father. The two young men had always been kind to her, and it was often with them that she could sell the treasures from the sea that she dove to retrieve near the coral reefs. Strangely, on that day, neither of them was at the forge. Only their father was present, having temporarily left the furnace at the back of his shop to observe the crowd that was gathering on the square. When he spotted Alteria, he offered her a sincere smile.
"Has it already been twenty years since that blasted storm?" he asked with a surprised expression. "Time really does fly."
"It depends on who you ask," the young woman replied. "Are your sons not with you?"
"No. They've gone to the governor's to serve as escorts for the Little Lady. I've given them the day off."
"Is an escort really necessary?" Alteria asked, "What could she possibly be at risk of? Spraining one of her invaluable ankles?"
"You can't hold it against her forever for being what you're not," the blacksmith corrected her gently.
"I don't hold it against her for being the governor's daughter," the young woman replied in a softer tone, "but I've never understood why the Little Lady doesn't feel as foreign here as I do."
The "Little Lady" was the affectionate nickname the inhabitants of Saisio had given to the governor of Nimeo's only daughter, referencing her demeanor that always seemed to suggest she had just escaped from the imperial court. Just a year older than Alteria, Minea could have been her best friend, given how much they had in common.
With her parents originating from the imperial capital, Minea had a continental appearance that didn't go unnoticed, and she knew how to accentuate it, causing all the young men on the island to orbit around her. Her skin, constantly shielded from the sun, had a delicate pink hue that was reminiscent of seashells' mother-of-pearl . Her brown hair, with its copper highlights, cascaded down to the small of her back in a smooth and silky mass of perfect curls, and her large hazel eyes had melted many hearts. Minea possessed the irresistible beauty of carnivorous plants that attract insects with their vibrant colors and then relish in devouring them.
However, despite her captivating looks, great intelligence, and ability to capture anyone's attention with a single movement, Minea had always been a solitary young woman. True, she was surrounded all day long by adoring young men vying for her favor and by young women who would gladly forsake their own parents in hopes of even a fraction of the aura possessed by the "little lady." Yet, as soon as her admirers departed, that aura seemed to fade, revealing a lonely young woman who reminded Alteria of her own solitude.
Minea wasn't born in Saisio; her father had been appointed governor a few months after her birth, so she had never truly known the mainland. Yet, she missed it—the splendors of the imperial court her mother had told her about and that she often recounted to those who came to see her, the parties, the city life—it was the world she should have lived in. That's why she incessantly asked her father to bring her objects from the mainland. Her latest whim was a horse that she enjoyed riding at every opportunity. Truth be told, Minea was like a coral fish that had been placed in a tank of seawater: she could survive, she was stunning, but she wasn't in her proper habitat.
When she was a child, Alteria had tried to befriend the "little lady." She had thought they could keep each other company, but Minea had always kept her distance, as if fearing that the presence of the "storm child" at her side might remind others that she wasn't as special as they seemed to believe. Thus, the two young women had never become friends; instead, a sort of mutual antipathy had developed between them.
"The difference," Tarnön continued, scratching his thin beard, "is that you arrived here on a day that wasn't necessarily pleasant for us, whereas her presence always evokes memories of the smiling infant who arrived on a festive day. But let's talk about something more interesting."
"If you want to talk about what's happening in the square," Alteria interrupted with a laugh, "I'm not sure I'll appreciate it. I already have a knot in my stomach."
"You shouldn't. The Calling is more of a religious tradition, like New Year's rituals, than an actual ceremony. And this year won't be an exception to the rule," he added, pointing with his calloused hand at the tent standing in the center of the square. "Since morning, as I've been watching the coming and going, no one has stayed inside for more than a few minutes. I don't know if the old folks are right with their talk of a curse, but it seems like the Goddess has decided that the people here are no longer up to the task of serving her."
"I don't understand why."
"The Empire has already abandoned this archipelago, so why wouldn't Enartia do the same?" Tarnön asked with a sigh.
"The people here don't deserve their fate; at least she must know that," the young woman tried to argue.
"Oh, they absolutely deserve their fate," the blacksmith replied with a disdainful sniff. "If they truly wanted to restore this island to its former glory, they'd hurry to cultivate the slopes of the volcano to export the land's products once again, or they'd start chiseling the jewelry that made our reputation at court. Instead, ever since the Enartians ceased being born here, people have taken refuge in superstitions and the gossip of old women who can't stop droning on. It's not by spending their lives praying to the Goddess and waiting for a miracle that they'll see things change! She didn't create us to have everything handed to us all the time."
"Still, the temple priests keep repeating that Enartia is the mother of us all and that she always aids her children..."
"Does your grandmother still chew your food for you?" the blacksmith cut in, "No! Yet that doesn't stop her from loving you and always offering her support. But when it comes to finding what you need to survive, you fend for yourself and don't complain. Because you know that if you don't do it, no one else will do it for you. If only the people here would stop listening to the nonsense the temple priests spout."
Alteria cast an alarmed glance around to make sure no one could hear them. Criticizing the priests of Enartia's cult was highly frowned upon on the island, and doing so in such close proximity to the people in the tent bordered on madness.
"Aren't you afraid to say such things here and now?" she asked with concern.
"What do you think they could do to me? They're just like all of us here; they have only a shadow of the power they would possess if they were in the capital. The priests hold a certain influence but not enough," he replied.
"I wasn't just referring to the priests," the young woman corrected.
"Do you think what I'm saying could get me into trouble with the Enartians?"
The blacksmith stared at her intently, then, realizing Alteria's genuine worry, he let out a laugh.
"Ah, if you had lived on the mainland, you wouldn't be afraid. The priests and the Enartians don't exactly get along, quite the opposite. They're wary of each other."
"Why is that? Aren't they supposed to be servants of the Goddess?"
"Well, yes, of course, but in the capital, everything is more complex," Tarnön explained. "The High Monastery, where all the priests are trained, is known to be run by men who apply the principles of the religion with great rigor. However, the Enartians, in order to protect peace, grant themselves liberties that don't sit well with these high-ranking officials. As a result, the priests often view them as unfaithful believers at best, if not heretics."
"Are all the priests like that?"
"Fortunately, not everyone; many recognize the Enartians as their equals. While some devote themselves to helping us pray to the Goddess, others work to maintain the peace she desires. But in Xephios, the Goddess's will often takes a backseat to political considerations and power plays."
"That's unfortunate," Alteria said, reflecting on what the blacksmith had told her.
"That's the capital. Here, we live protected from political intrigues because, let's face it, few people at the imperial court envy the governor's position, and he seems set to remain here until he's too old to serve the empire's interests. But on the mainland, power is everything, that's just how men are."
Alteria then turned her gaze back to the gray canvas tent, from which the crowd had now cleared.
"And the Enartians?"
"I didn't really associate with them, but from what I've seen, political power is more a means for them to fulfill their duties than an end in itself. After all, if they don't protect the goddess and her values, who will do it in their place?"
"Indeed."
The young woman continued to observe the temporary tent before her. She tried to imagine what the people inside might look like as they conducted the famous Calling ceremony. It was then that Nirchaïn, Tarnön's eldest son, came running up to his father's shop. Spotting Alteria, he gave her a quick wave before turning to his father, explaining that he had forgotten something before leaving. He stepped over the window that served as a counter and disappeared briefly behind to retrieve what he had left in the forge. As he left again, Alteria couldn't help but study him with her gaze. The young man wasn't particularly handsome, but he was tall for an islander, and his work at the forge had endowed him with a robust physique that his skin displayed with every movement, without distorting it. Watching him move away, Alteria allowed herself to dream that this young man who had always been kind to her might one day see her as more than just an acquaintance.
The blacksmith's voice interrupted her reverie.
"You should go with the crowd. I need to get back to work, and the noise I'm going to make might not be the most fitting music for this kind of wait."
"Alright."
The young woman stood up and, noticing her bag still on the ground, turned to the blacksmith.
"Could I leave my things with you for a while, please? I'm afraid they might be a hassle in the crowd."
"Put your bag behind the counter," Tarnön replied as he tied his apron, "you'll get it back when you leave."
"Thank you," Alteria said, leaning over the counter to safely place her belongings, "and thank you for talking with me."
"Always a pleasure, little one. It's refreshing to talk to someone different from the people around here. In the past, I used to have these kinds of chats with your grandfather, but now that he doesn't come into town as often, I'm stuck with my customers. Now, off you go, I've got work to do."
With that, the blacksmith disappeared to the back of his shop, and soon Alteria could hear the bellows being pumped to revive the forge's embers. Alteria, in turn, headed toward the tent and slipped into the crowd that was waiting, biding her time for her own turn.