Breath of Life

The interior door opened then, and I stepped out into an enormous room fully two stories high, with a wide staircase directly in front of me. Lights in sconces burned at half-power, gleaming off floors and walls of what appeared to be dark, polished stone. In one corner a wall fountain splashed into the silence.

“Welcome.” The voice was deep and calm, and seemed to come from a spot halfway up the stairs.

I started, then realized what I thought had been just another shadow was the Zhore himself, standing there in his night-colored robes. Of course, I could see nothing of him, just the vague outline of a hooded figure. He did seem very tall.

“Thank you,” I said. What a silly thing to say. Why should I be thanking him for blackmailing me away from my family and my home? I added, in a slightly sharper tone, “That is, I’m here because you didn’t give us much choice.”

To my surprise, he laughed. The laugh sounded human enough at least, although I knew no human being lurked beneath those concealing robes. “You are not afraid to speak your mind. That is good.” A pause, then, “Come here.”

I wanted to refuse, but I doubted that would do me or my cause much good. Clutching my satchel, I mounted the basalt staircase and stopped on the step just below him. He surveyed me for a moment.
“What is your name?”

“Anika,” I replied. “Anika Jespers.”

“Anika,” he repeated. “What does it mean?”

“Mean?”

“All names have meanings, don’t they?”

I supposed that was mostly true, but I found myself reluctant to give him an answer. “My parents said it meant ‘beautiful’ in one of the old Gaian languages.” I shrugged. “Sorry about the false advertising.”

“You are not considered beautiful?”

How was I supposed to reply to that? Libba had always been considered the golden child, with her strawberry blonde hair and big green eyes. If a person had been feeling charitable, they might have referred to my hair as dark auburn in certain lights, but really, it was plain reddish-brown, and while I was pretty enough according to Gaian standards, I didn’t think anyone except an indulgent parent would have ever thought of me as beautiful.

“Not by people who’ve had their eyes recently checked,” I said.

Another laugh. “Zhore eyes are sharper than human eyes,” he commented, rather cryptically.