Chapter 28: Harmony

A flame kindled and grew in the cave, revealing Mores, who had his hand out to the growing fire. With another word the fire grew, although there was no wood to burn.

Shiori’s eyes widened. “The light, won’t that Silence thing come?”

Mores shook his head. “It’s not true light. It isn’t pure light. It’s just fire. Look.”

He waved a hand at the cave walls, illuminated by the fire. As her eyes adjusted, she realized the same unreal haze enveloped the cave and the firelight.

She looked at Mores. “Your skin doesn’t have that dark coating.” She considered the bits of her skin that still looked unreal, the bits that had been exposed to the Silence. They almost like they were in black and white instead of color.

“Living things eventually shrug off the Stain of Silence. We call the draining of light the Silence spreads a ‘Stain’. True light burns away the Stain. Living things contain their own light and eventually burn away the Stain, over time.”

He pointed to the skin on her face and hands that bore the Stain. “The Stain will disappear from your skin the next time you Speak a true word. True words have light in them too, just like living things.”

He waved to the fire. “But mundane light like a fire or the sun? That’s all Stained in Kryptopeda. Even the light is darkened here.”

The two were silent. Shiori knew the Realms’ history, but she still had much to learn. She knew little of what had happened since the Last Word had brought the darkness.

“If I return to my world,” Shiori asked, breaking the silence, “will I be safe?”

Mores shook his head. “No. The Duke will send more. He feared others would reach you first. Your days of hiding are over.”

Shiori nodded. “I’ll have to handle those threats before I can go back.”

Mores laughed. “Princess, I can tell from being near you that you don’t know your true name. You might be a Royal, but you aren’t a match for the Duke’s forces, much less the other Usurper Warlords.”

“I’ll have to get stronger.” She looked from the fire to his face.

“You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“That’s your role. Tell me. What happened after the previous Princess spoke the Last Word? What happened to the Realms of Kryptopeda?”

He was silent as he prepared his thoughts. “I don’t know what the Realms were like before the Last Word. Time moves faster here, so that was near a century ago for us, even if it was less than a fifth of that for you.”

He gestured at himself. “I imagine you know about the human tribes in Kryptopeda? I’m Remora. All Praetors are Remora.”

Shiori’s hand ran over the cover of The Last Word. “One of the oldest tribes. City builders. Dominant until a few millennia ago. Many great Houses and Usurper Lords are Remora.”

Mores sighed. “I’ve mostly encountered Remora, Fekir, Punics, Yamato, and Skalds on missions for the House of Praetor. There are many more tribes. Since the Last Word they are all at war, struggling to survive the darkness that has fallen.”

“Punics?” Shiori asked. She recognized the other tribes, but not Punics. Earth peoples had come to Kryptopeda for refuge untold ages of history.

“The Punics prefer to call themselves Karthans,” Mores said, staring at the fire.

“Karthans, I know them. Their names are like Symphon’s. Is he Karthan?”

Mores stoked the fire with more magic as it tried to die down. “Yes, full blood Karthan. His mother was a concubine of the Duke’s. She escaped, pregnant with a Karthan servant’s child. She stole the Duke’s most precious books of power.”

“Symphon,” Mores said, “means ‘harmony’ in Karthan. She had a fool idea of restoring the old days when Speakers worked together, shared their names, shared power, and defended the peace. She hoped for ‘harmony’.”

“Harmony,” Shiori said, watching the flames dance. “He called himself Otonashi when he met me. It means ‘silent’ or ‘without sound' in my language.”

Mores laughed bitterly. “I guess he’s given up on his mother’s dream.”

“Why can I Speak Symphon’s name, but not yours?” Shiori asked. “Even if I say ‘Mores’, it doesn’t have the same power.” Shiori felt odd saying a stranger’s name without ‘-san’ or ‘-kun’ or such attached. It helped that his name wasn’t Japanese.

“You haven’t read my name written in my own handwriting,” Mores said. “And you won’t. I’ve never written my name. The Duke granted me but a little power. Making a Grimoire isn’t as critical for me as for someone as powerful as Symphon.”

“Is Symphon powerful?”

“His mother stole one of the largest book collections I’ve ever seen: The Duke’s personal collection. Simply by living, Symphon’s grasp on that collection cuts the Duke’s power nearly in half. It enrages him.”

Shiori glanced at The Last Word and considered reading it. The conversation with Mores helped her understand Kryptopeda better, but she still hadn’t figured out a way home. Maybe the book would reveal her true name.

“Your tribe is the Yamato, right?” Mores asked.

Every Japanese knew the word Yamato as an old term for Japan or Japanese culture. It hadn’t been the preferred term for centuries. “Yes.”

“That must be why you hid among the Yamato in the old world to blend in. Each Princess has been of the Yamato tribe.”

“Not always,” Shiori said, thoughtfully. “The last few Princesses have been Yamato, but centuries ago there were many each tribe. My people don’t call themselves Yamato anymore.”

“What words do you use?”

“Nihon, Japan, different words.”

Mores nodded. “A tribe of people is a big, complicated, deep thing. It makes sense to have many words.”

“You were in Japan. You spoke to me in Japanese.”

“No.” Mores shook his head. “I didn’t. We can use magic to make ourselves understood. To your ears, now, am I speaking the Yamato language of Japan?”

Shiori nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m speaking Remora and letting the magic carry the meaning to your mind,” he said. “You know much about Kryptopedan history, but little about the Realms today. You have so much power, yet know so little how to use it.”

“I didn’t hide in Japan, Mores,” Shiori said. “My mother hid me there. She left me the books, including the one Duke Praetor gave you to track me down.”

Mores looked at her, surprised. “Your mother was a Yamato too? And a Narrator?”

Shiori shrugged. “I didn’t know her. I didn’t even know I was born in Kryptopeda until today. The Yamato are a weaker tribe in the Realms, right? One of the strongest and oldest tribes is yours, the Remora?”

Mores folded his arms. “We aren’t the oldest tribe, but in many Realms the Remora hold most of the power, true. Duke Praetor is Remora. I’m half Remora on his side, and half Karthan.”

“Your mother was Karthan?” Shiori had read all of Kawamura’s books, but she hadn’t been studying for a test. She hadn’t memorized everything. The Karthans were among the old tribes who had long fallen from power.

“My mother,” Mores said thoughtfully. “Yes, she was Karthan. I never spoke with her. The Duke’s scions are taken from his concubines. I was raised by nursemaids. I wasn’t supposed to find out which one was my mother. She never knew me.”

Shiori didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t imagine growing up under Duke Praetor.

Mores broke the awkward silence. “I don’t know how the Duke learned to consume life force to extend his life or control the Umbrae. I have learned that he can only feed on certain days and only on blood relatives.”

Shiori’s blood went cold. “The cousin who died, the one you showed me…”

“The Duke’s grand nephew, or something. We scions, his sired children, serve him as warriors or dinner, depending on our success. We aren’t supposed to know who our mothers are.”

Silence fell again. Shiori wanted to ask some clever question that would reveal a path home. The gloomy look on Mores’ face made her hold her tongue.

He didn’t look at Shiori. “Thank you for freeing me from my father’s control. He made me love his evil ways. I’ve hated my mother because she betrayed the Duke and abandoned me. But those spells are gone. I can see clearly.”

He sighed. “It’s hard after years of hate, but I understand why she stole my father’s books and ran to Felthal. She didn’t abandon me. I was lost to her. She didn’t have a child with that Karthan servant because I was unworthy. You’ve let me learn to love her again.”

Shiori’s mouth fell open.

“By the Words, I hated her but I don’t have to anymore. I needn’t be jealous of the happy boy she raised away from my pain. I needn’t regret that he got to be named ‘harmony’ after her foolish hopes while I suffered, alone. I can forgive.”

The fire crackled. When it died down, Mores did not renew it.

“Thank you, Shiori.”