Jovan's Gaze. Aaron Ph.D. Dov
no door was evident on the short edge where the stair led. What made the small, white hut oddest were the metal rods sticking out of the top. How many lightening rods did a single hut need? Were the storms on this coast so very fierce? Some were straight, other rods were coiled. Beside the rods, at the end of the hut's ceiling furthest from the stairs was a large dish facing upward. Several strands of black rope reached from a box under the dish, to the roof of the hut. I suppose they used the dish to catch rain water, though from this distance I could not see where it funneled into. The people who lived here would have to climb up to reach the water.
I moved closer to the hut, stripping away my jacket. I let the parched leather fall in the sand, leaving it were it fell. It was soaked in sweat, and now with water, and was parched beyond any real use. Besides, the cool mist of the sea felt good on my chest. I removed my other shoe, and let my feet warm themselves in the soothing sand. I could not even feel the blisters which I was sure covered my feet by now. Once I found food, I would tend to them.
Food came first.
The hut had no windows, and even close up, the stairs seemed to lead to nothing. I wondered if the entrance was around the other side, but then why put stairs here? I could see evidence of footfalls, two or three, where the tide had not washed them away. People in boots had been here recently, and all seemed to surround the stairs.
I climbed the three stairs, and glided my hand along the hut's wall. It was smooth, much like the vat. The paint was the same, with the same feel, as though slightly blistered, though smooth at the same time. As soon as my hand brushed over the hut wall to my left, there was an odd chirping sound. I stepped back a pace, unsure of what I had heard. That was no bird I knew of, and the hut itself seemed to do the chirping.
When the chirp did not return, I touched the wall again. There was another chirp. My fingers glided over the smooth wall with its odd blister-texture, and each pass elicited another chirp. I wondered what it was that caused it. I pressed my palm against the wall, feeling its coolness against my hand. The wall chirped again, a louder, longer pattern. Then the wall itself seemed to light up, as though a torch were hidden behind a window. I stepped back again, fearing a burn.
The wall where I had lit up began to glow, with small flickering lights of varying colors. An image of a hand appeared on the wall, glowing red. I looked to my hand, but it was unharmed. The image of the hand pulsed and glowed red. I set my hand to it, matching the red palm to my own flesh. The wall chirped again, and more frightening than that, it spoke to me!
"Eissa," a lithe, female voice spoke from the wall. It was high pitched, as though she were very young.
I backed away, startled.
"Eissa," the woman's voice spoke, its tone questioning. "Eissa. Oya?"
"Hello?" I replied. Where was this girl hiding?
"Eissa, Oya?" the voice repeated. "Ika donan ooreeya."
I shook my head. "I do not understand," I replied. "Where are you?"
"Ika donan ooreeya," the voice repeated. The voice seemed welcoming, yet at the same time, without feeling.
Was she hiding behind the wall? Was the wall really some sort of clever window? I had seen the Kronan mages use magic to hide entire fortresses. Was this hut similar?
I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me, and I remembered my main concern for the moment.
"I am hungry!" I croaked. "Do you have anything to eat?" I pleaded. "Please, I beg you, I have not eaten for days. Do you have anything you could spare?"
There was a pause. "Ika donan ooreeya."
I shook my head in frustration. I did not know the language. Its sound was not at all familiar. Theris had three languages. Esian, which everyone spoke, was the oldest of the three. Krona had its own twisted tongue, but it was only spoken by the mages who served the Dark Lord, and those who worked closest with them. It was an angry language, full of hate and bile. The third language was that of the fishermen, who had developed an entire language unto themselves, in order to help understand the ways and will of the sea. Somewhere buried under their bizarre words was Esian proper, but only a scholar could say where. This girl's language was not like those three, though it did remind me of the Kronan tongue ever so slightly.
"Please," I said slowly, carefully. "I need to eat. Will you help me?"
"Help?" the voice repeated back to me. The tone was questioning, as though to confirm that I had indeed asked for help.
"Yes!" I insisted. "Yes, help me. I need food."
The voice repeated two of my words. "Help. Food."
"Please," I said one last time, leaning against the wall to support myself. The water could only keep me going so long, without food.
"Oobah," the girl said evenly.
Then, without warning, the wall before me slid open. Where there had been no indication of a door at all, the wall simply slid away, to the right. There was a slight swishing sound, along with the grinding of sand. Inside the door, the hut was mostly dark. I held still, unsure of what to do.
The hut's darkness was not complete. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of lights inside. Most were small, like fireflies; greens, reds, blues, yellows. Some were steady, others came and went. And among these tiny fireflies were larger lights, squares that glowed brightly. Upon these lights, images danced. Most were full of symbols, lines, and other things I could not understand. One of the square lights, the one closest to the newly-appeared door, I saw an odd mirror-like image of myself, standing at the door. It was not really a mirror, but seemed as though it showed me the view from where my hand had touched the wall and lit it up. I was reminded of the spy-crows which our mages used. They watched the enemy, and their sight was shown to us through a special mage-woven tapestry hanging in the throne room.
I reached in and touched the lit square. It had the same odd texture as the spigot on the water vat. It was much like glass, with whatever was on the square somehow existing below the surface. When I touched the square, odd symbols and writing appeared on top of the not-reflection. A square formed around the image of my face, and words in the odd script of this place appeared around it, as though it were labeling me. I wondered what it said.
"Hello?" I spoke quietly, unsure of what awaited me, but hoping to see the girl with whom I spoke.
There was no response, and the small hut seemed empty.
I stepped into the hut itself. It was very dry inside. The air was warm, but not the harsh warmth of the sun. It was a more comfortable warmth, like the warmth found in the royal palace, where great furnaces sent heat out into the great halls through ducts built into the floors. I heard a constant hissing sound all around me, and wondered if that was the heat being blown about by something out of sight. I stepped in some more.
The floor was metal, though in places there were pads laid down. The material had traction, as though black sand had been glued to the floor. It hurt my blistered feet, so I stepped back onto the soothing coolness of the metal portions of the floor. I breathed a sigh of relief as the pain receded once more.
The entire inside of the hut seemed lined with the fireflies and the lit squares. All of them seemed to dance with light, drawings and symbols that moved by so fast, I doubted I would be able to read them even if I understood what they meant. They were simply too fast. I wondered what sort of people could follow so much.
The lights seemed arranged in rows along the walls, stopping about half way to the floor, where a small counter jutted out. There were odd looking chairs about the place. Each chair rested on three small beams which met under the chair. The beams' ends had small wheels. From the center of the beams, a single metal bar rose up to support the chair's seat and back. They were much like the chairs the mages used in their libraries, so they could move aged bodies among the tables and shelves without getting up. These