The Sun Seeker- Pt 2

Jes ducked between groups of people, winding her way deeper into the market throng even as it dwindled away with the daylight. The market ran alongside the port, which meant the shops would remain open indefinitely, but the crowds of families would soon be snug at home, and only those with business would be out in the small hours.

She turned out onto the boardwalk of the port, relief lighting her eyes as the bow of a ship became visible.

It was a small ship, with sleek lines. The sails were tucked away, and even the mast was folded down, looking like a sharp fin atop the long cabin that enclosed its single deck. She trudged up the gangplank, her pot of soup heavy in her hands as she fiddled with the key panel. The hatch slid open and she shuffled in to dump her load onto the small table.

Home.

She made a point of locking the hatch before flopping onto the bunk, cradling her head in her hands.

Guard your thoughts with them, Jes. Cicera had told her repeatedly. They're... They're not like most folk. You need to guard your thoughts.

She must have done so, better than she thought, because the Solari hadn't seemed to put two and two together; rushing off as soon as she gave him his answer. She would have laughed at him, if she didn't expect him to come right back, possibly a little peeved at not being told the whole truth.

She dragged her head up to stare at her Telling Pot. She didn't usually tell her mother's story. There was no reason she should have today. She shouldn't have. But as she'd steeped the broth and looked at the etchings on the pot of little people loving, laughing, living... She had needed Cicera to be real again. Alive again.

She reached across and unwrapped the Solari's offering; Ginger. He must have wanted the information badly. This was hard to come by. Her lip curled, and she was sorely tempted to chuck it out the door. But it was a fair trade. He had offered the priceless, and she had given the same. Damn him.

Why? Why now? What could the Solari possibly want, that they would hunt her down? Or was it her mother they wanted?

She glanced about her home as a pang settled somewhere between her heart and her throat. Her mother had been true to her word, and had never returned to the Capital, at least in all the time Jes could recall, and she recalled a lot. It was the curse of the Lorekeepers, remembering everything, always. And in all the time she had been with her mother, the Solari had never bothered them.

There was no reason for the Solari to track them down. They had nothing to do with her anymore. Frankly, they'd never had anything to do with her.

She looked out at the deepening gloom, through the thick windows in the cockpit. He would be back. If he knew enough about Cicera to track her this far, he wouldn't take long to realize the child he was looking for had just sent him on a goose chase. And for all the questions spinning in her mind, she wasn't interested in learning what he wanted.

With a sense of urgency she didn't fully want to analyze, she stowed her things, and ran through the start up sequence for her ship. She wasn't being a coward. She wasn't. She just didn't want to be bothered, especially by some smarmy, holier-than-thou Solari.

The night master of the dock was half asleep already when she called over for instructions to disembark.

Taking the helm, Jesphyr steered her ship away from the docking clamps and into the air, preparing thrusters to expel her sailboat through the atmosphere and as far from this planet as possible.

Sirius rushed out onto the the boardwalk just in time to see a solar sailboat arc away into the deepening sky, it's thrusters firing and pushing it out into the stars.

“Damn it.” He shoved his hood back, plopping his hands on his hips to consider the dwindling thruster trail with frustration. She'd ducked him. He'd asked her point blank, and she'd managed to answer without answering. And he hadn't caught it, his conscience kicked at him.

Bite-sized truths, my ass. He scratched his jaw. He'd spent weeks tracking down whispers of someone who knew someone who had heard a tale from somewhere, and the object of his research had been right there. And he was back at square one again.

Well, not entirely square one. He had a name now. Jesphyr. He could work with that.

The child's name was Jesphyr. He'd get her back for that; she, with the deep, charcoal rimmed eyes, and the proud eyebrows, and the haunted shadows riding behind her smirk. He'd definitely make her pay.

She owed him a ginger root, damn it.