Jodi Meadows - Incarnate

SAM WAS QUIET when we left the house, probably still smarting from Stef’s jabs. There had to be something I could say to make him smile again. Not that I wanted to pretend nothing had happened in the kitchen, but aside from a tentative alliance with Stef, Sam was my only friend. I needed him.

The day was beginning to warm, but I was grateful for the sweater I’d found in my room; I pulled the sleeves over my hands to keep them from becoming chilled.

“Cold?” At least he wasn’t running this time.

“Not anymore.” We turned off the walkway and onto the street.

The city was a mess of roads and intersections, all wide and friendly, except there were no signs, no way for a stranger to tell where she was.

“There should be a faster way to get around,” I muttered. “I know there are vehicles somewhere. I saw them on one of Corin’s lists in the guard station.”

“We used to drive, but the reek of exhaust was unbelievable, and they tore up the roads. Maintenance was too expensive and annoying, and some people”—he coughed—“gained an unsightly amount of weight.”

I couldn’t imagine Sam anything other than tall and slender and young. “Vehicles couldn’t have been the only reason.”

“No, but they didn’t help. Eventually the Council decided to put them in storage. People too old or ill to walk can use them. People with children too young to make long trips were also allowed.”

Which meant Li had taken one when she fled the city in shame. “And there I was thinking I had never been in one.”

“May you never have to again. May you always be strong and healthy.” He took us down more streets, pausing to explain who lived where and how far from the Councilhouse we were. “Of course,” he said, motioning upward, “if you’re ever lost, you can find your way to the temple by cutting through yards. I don’t advise that if you can avoid it. There are few fences, but people appreciate privacy.”

I stopped in the middle of the street and tilted my head back, fists still balled in the sweater sleeves. The temple disappeared into the fluffy midmorning clouds. “What could be in there that takes up so much space?”

“Nothing. It’s empty.”

I jerked my head down and searched his eyes. “You’ve been in there? I thought there wasn’t a door.”

“There isn’t.” The line formed between his eyes again, and two around his mouth joined it. “I just know it’s empty. No one’s been inside, though.”

“That’s weird.” Like the way the white walls had heartbeats, and just looking at the temple made my stomach churn. “Don’t you think there’s something wrong with that?”

“I never thought about it before.” He glanced upward and scowled. “Not in five thousand years.”

I hated when he did that, reminded me how old he was.

We turned onto the avenue from yesterday, and Sam pointed out the different mills and factories in the industrial quarter. “The city is a circle, temple and Councilhouse in the center. Four avenues go in the cardinal directions to divide it into quarters. Southwest and northeast are residential, southeast is industrial, and northwest is agricultural. You can see the fish ponds from the market field, and the orchards beyond that, but I doubt you’d have fun exploring the grain fields.”

“I might.” I definitely wouldn’t, but I had to keep him guessing. “If I was looking for hints about who made Heart, that’s where I’d start.”

“Historians did start there, and found a few skeletons and artifacts, but no one has been able to tell where they came from.” He gave that funny half smile he did when I said things he didn’t expect. “Why do you think about the past so much?”

I shrugged. “Because I wasn’t there.”

He shook his head and chuckled, then hastened to explain. “Not laughing at you. I just— I think you’re amazing.”

Sarcasm escaped before I could contain it. “Earlier you thought I was impulsive.” That wasn’t wise. He should have added reckless and stupid to the list.

He stopped walking. “Ana.”

I wanted to ignore him, but his strained tone didn’t bode well for future friendship. “Sam.” I kept my voice low so it wouldn’t carry; there were people nearby, looking at us. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

Thinking too much again. He wore a distant look while I held my breath, then came back. “You have every right to be upset. What happened earlier—”

“Nothing happened,” I said quickly. Before it could become awkward. Before he apologized for not feeling whatever it was I thought I felt.

There was no need to apologize for the absence of those feelings, and I knew he liked me enough. He’d taken care of me when I couldn’t do it; he’d taken me into his home when I didn’t have one. He wrote a song for me. Dossam, the one person I’d always wanted to meet. Of course I felt— Well, of course I thought I felt something for my hero who turned out to be a good man, too. I shouldn’t have expected anything else.

“Nothing happened,” I whispered again. Saying it, deciding it, made the pain less.

His lips parted, and he looked unsure. It seemed he might argue, but instead he gave a small nod. “Okay. That’s probably best.”

I exhaled and adjusted my hands in my sleeves. “So do you think they’ll let me use the library?” We started walking again. The tension between us hadn’t quite dissipated, but it was easier.

“By their own order, they have to let you. How else are you going to learn everything they require?”

“What about all the things I want to learn that they won’t approve of?” Like what happened to Ciana, where did I come from, and, if there were more unborn souls out there, why me ? How did I get to be born? Luck? Or was I supposed to have been born five thousand years ago with everyone else, and just got stuck along the way? That sounded like something that would happen to me. “In order to find out what happened, I’m going to have to figure out why everyone is reincarnated. I doubt they’ll like me looking into that.”

“Trust me. You’ll have access to everything you need. Even if they move things from the library, I’ll find them for you. Somehow. Everything was digitally archived two or three generations ago. Convenience, they said.” He rolled his eyes. “I might be able to remember how to fetch the information, but Whit or Orrin definitely can. They’re the library archivists.”

My hand floated over his for a moment while we walked, but I withdrew it before he — or anyone else — noticed. “I’m glad you were the one to find me, Sam,” I said instead. “I could have done a lot worse.”

“I’m glad, too.” The look he gave me was — fondness?

It was too confusing, trying to figure out what he really thought of me. Maybe when we were done here, he’d play the piano for me again. I knew how to handle that, at least.

“What’s going on up there?” I motioned toward the crowd of people around the temple and another large building beneath it. People milled around, chatted with one another, drank from paper cups, though I couldn’t tell where they’d gotten them. The perfume of fresh bread and coffee drifted toward us.

“This is the market field,” Sam said as we approached a cobblestone expanse that surrounded the temple. “Once a month there’s a market where you can buy most anything you need.”

I’d never seen so many people in my life; they were so noisy, all shouting and laughing. “And it’s happening now?”

Sam edged closer to me, like I needed his protection. “No, this is just the morning crowd. It’s the best social spot, and if you’re too lazy to cook your own breakfast, Armande almost always has a stall open.”