I scoffed. “Figures. Death loves her secrets.” There was bitterness in my voice, and I didn’t hide it from Kelara. She understood my frustration better than anyone. We’d had enough of doing things without being told why. We were tired of following orders like mere drones. If there was one thing I’d always appreciated about the First Ten, it was that they’d been granted freedom, that they could no longer be pushed around.
Kelara and I didn’t have that option, and when Death gave an order, we followed through. I’d never complained about this, and I’d never objected to my previous tasks, handed down to me by my superior Reapers. Still, I’d found my voice while working against the Hermessi, and I’d learned to question everything I was told to do these days.
I knew it irked Death, especially since she couldn’t punish me herself yet, but she hadn’t had anyone else penalize me on her behalf. Maybe she appreciated the rebellious spirit. Who knew?
The worst part was that I didn’t know why I was here. I couldn’t understand my purpose on Visio, and her refusal to tell me was quite the mood killer. Death made it very hard for me to obey, sometimes.
“Fine,” I ultimately said. “I’ll stay close to the crew. But please try to get me some answers about Reaper activity on Visio. It’s starting to get creepy.”
“I’ll be in touch as soon as I hear something. I promise, Seeley.”
Leaving Kelara to her work on Death’s remaining 998 seals, I split my consciousness in two. It was time to use my omniscience. It meant I wouldn’t be fully focused in any of the places I’d be, but at least I could capture as much information as possible before settling back solely with Derek’s crew. For the first time in quite a while, I was in two places at once, one part of me staying close to the gazebo, while the other part made its way into the palace.
I focused my visual attention on the palace, while the gazebo conversation lingered in the back of my head. Danika, Acheron, and Valaine were telling Derek and the others about their recent history—the conquest of Nalore, the value of Nalorean teachers, the occupation of Rimia, and the import of Rimian resources, including their much-admired craftsmen. There were things that the Aeternae were very good at, such as building, sculpting, painting, fashion design, and many other artful and industrial endeavors. But the Rimians were even better at some of these, and the Aeternae valued their talents greatly, bestowing great fortunes upon them for their illustrious contributions.
The more I listened, the more I appreciated the Aeternae. Yes, they’d conquered two neighboring planets, and plenty of people must have died in the process, but they had also brought this empire into an impressive balance, ruling through respect and remuneration, not through fear and violence.
As I walked through the palace halls, I paid attention to the servants. There was a healthy proportion of young Aeternae in black uniforms, along with Rimians and Naloreans. They seemed to get along, treating each other with respect and plenty of smiles. I stopped by the kitchen, where Aeternae cooks were toiling over their pans and boiling pots. Rimian maidens worked the dough, which they kneaded and glazed before putting into the brick oven.
“That takes care of the servants and the two foreigners who don’t drink blood,” one of the cooks said, leaning against the counter and wiping the sweat from his brow with a dry cloth. A maiden washed her hands in the sink next to him, the cinnamon shade of her Rimian skin once again visible as the flour was washed down the drain.
“The lord and lady will send over the blood samples they want us to serve tonight,” she replied, nodding at a massive pair of glass cabinets filled with crystal glasses and ornate pitchers. That was for the Aeternae and the vampires. “Do we know how many guests we’re expecting?”
The cook sighed. “About fifty, in total. The lord and lady don’t want all the nobility coming over to see the foreigners, so they’ve kept the event rather low-key. Fortunately, that means fewer problems for us, as well. Nobody wants to be ogled, so I understand why they’re doing a smaller dinner than usual.”
“I wonder what they’re like,” the maid murmured. “The vampires, I mean. I hear they’re a lot like you, the Aeternae, but that they can’t be in the sunlight.”
“Yes. How sad is that, huh? To never feel the warmth on your skin?”
The maid chuckled softly. “To be fair, Visio isn’t all that sunny, anyway. There is something about your skies that I have yet to get used to. It makes everything look a bit darker… even hazy. Have you ever been to Rimia?”
“A couple of times, yes,” the cook replied, smiling. “It is sunnier, indeed. But also hotter. I don’t know how you people can stand it. I felt like I was suffocating.”
The maid pinched her forearm. “Thick skin, sir. We deal with it differently.”
“I, for one, wonder what they’re doing here,” the cook said, pursing his lips. “I’m having a hard time buying the whole ‘we were just gazing out into space and we found you, so we thought we’d come and say hello’ shtick, to be honest. There has to be more.”
The maid frowned. “Why do you say that?”
Good question, I thought. I had found their official motives rather convincing, especially since the Aeternae did not know about the tracking spells used to identify their world as the origin for the day-walking protein.
The other cooks and maids eavesdropped on the conversation, but none participated. They kept working, preparing dishes for the servants to eat tonight after the Lord and Lady Supreme’s dinner. From their rushed conversations, I understood that once they were done clearing out the guests’ table, the servants would then retreat into their own mess hall to eat. They got the food out of the way now, since some of the guests were not Aeternae or vampire, so that they would have to fire up the ovens and stoves only once.
“Think about it,” the cook said. “How many visitors have we had from other worlds, over the centuries?”
The girl shrugged. “I’m only sixteen, sir. I’ve yet to learn about these things.”
“Well, I’ll tell you. Exceedingly few. There were rumors about a foreign man coming, centuries ago, and two of Visio’s most despised criminals leaving with him to their deaths, but that is it. And we all know our worlds aren’t the only inhabited ones in this universe. They can’t be, clearly proven by our guests today. So, what are the odds that they really did just come here to make contact?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“Pretty small,” the cook replied. He struck me as the kind who ate up conspiracy theories with the delight of a child lost inside a candy store. His paranoia would’ve been amusing, even, had he not actually been right.
GASP wasn’t here just to say hello, but he didn’t know that.
Leaving the kitchen behind, I still wasn’t convinced by what I was seeing and hearing. My instinct refused to let go. I couldn’t trust my own eyes and ears. After a few more minutes spent wandering through the hallways and eavesdropping on other servants as they rushed to and from the dinner hall with cutlery and fine silk napkins and all the other relevant dining accoutrements, I found the palace library.
It was a huge place, with hundreds of sturdy wooden bookcases, rows upon rows of knowledge preserved in one gigantic hall. I took my time digging through the history section. There were plenty of leather-bound volumes for me to study, though I doubted I had enough hours on the clock to get a clear picture of this place. Hopefully, one of the higher Reapers would be in touch with details—if they had any. Something told me I wasn’t going to get the truth out of Visio as easily as I might have hoped. Again, that was my instinct telling me things.
Among the books I perused, there was a written history recorded by one of the former Nasani lords, a certain Devyn Nasani, father of Imelda Nasani—known mother of Acheron. Devyn’s account of the Aeternae’s development seemed to cover the first million years, and, judging by the book’s size and thickness alone, it was certainly comprehensive and rich in details. Flipping through the pages, I found illustrations that accompanied the text, including maps of the early Aeternae kingdoms, long before they were unified into an empire and at least one million years before they looked to Rimia for blood.
No one saw or heard me as I read some of the passages penned by Devyn, but I had to stop, eventually, as a couple of familiar voices echoed through the library, getting closer with every step they took. I left the books on the study table and moved back, watching as Kalon and his mother, Petra Visentis, walked in.
“Do you think it’s safe to let the foreigners wander through the palace?” Kalon asked Petra, who’d changed into a dark purple velvet dress, which brought out the silver in her long hair. She stopped by the study table, staring at the books I’d left there for a few moments, probably wondering who’d taken them off the shelf. Who’d found them interesting enough to read.
“Why would we have to worry about them?” Petra replied, eventually, as Kalon circled the table, his gaze wandering around absently. This was a good opportunity for me to listen in, to figure out what sort of people they were. “We have nothing to hide.”
Kalon shot her a cold grin. “Please, Mother, don’t talk to me like I’m one of them.”
“Darling, there are security measures in place,” Petra said, one hand resting on top of the books. For a moment, I felt a chill run through my bones, like a late-night winter wind catching me outside, cutting through me, freezing my senses. “We have nothing to fear.”
“They’re curious, you know that. They ask questions. They always want to know more,” Kalon muttered, crossing his arms. “Frankly, I find that endearing. But I doubt it’ll end well for you.”
Petra laughed. It was a cold guffaw, as cold as her stare. “Don’t be ridiculous. Should the foreigners threaten our way of life, including our trade deals for the blood of Rimians and Naloreans, they will be made aware of the consequences. They’re not here to meddle, Kalon. We both know they want something from us, and, judging by what you’ve just told me, it’s got something to do with that day-walking protein they swoon over.”
“They want our blood.”
“Exactly. And they will not dare start a diplomatic scuffle with us. Not only because they don’t fully grasp our governmental system, but also because we have the one thing they desire the most,” Petra said.
