Jacqueline Lichtenberg

The Farris Channel


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laughed as he disengaged their fields. “Well, perhaps a number can be idealistic. Stranger things have happened today!” He turned to go back down the stair, then paused. “My father, Zeth Farris, saw ghosts too. They say it drove him to his death.”

      Solamar felt the apprehension in the man. He stepped forward and gripped the bony Farris shoulders. “You are forgiven by your ghosts. You are not imagining that. You couldn’t have done anything else with Clire under the circumstances. We have to prevent such a circumstance from developing again. What began in Fort Freedom with your grandfather, is vitally important to the world. We will not fail.” That is my mission, thought Solamar.

      “You believe in ghosts,” Rimon accused.

      “Yes. Only...I’d rather that weren’t generally known. No one in Tanhara knows.” He’d been sworn to secrecy about what he knew, what he could do, before he’d been trained, and until now he’d never broken that oath.

      “You believe in life after death?” asked Rimon.

      “...uuuhhh...yes.”

      “It really is real,” he half asked, half begged.

      “Yes. We were not hallucinating. They came because you were hurting so very much and they love you. They had to tell you that they know it wasn’t your fault.”

      “Yes. And they did that. So they won’t come again.”

      “Probably not.”

      “Only probably?

      “I can’t foretell the future.”

      “That would be a handy skill.”

      “Probably not.”

      Rimon laughed, a short, harsh, bark. “Good point. I don’t want to know how I’m going to die, or when.”

      “It will be at the right time. That much we know.”

      “Do we?”

      “Yes.”

      “You’re positive.”

      “Yes.”

      Rimon scrutinized him in every way. “I believe you. I don’t know why. But I do.”

      “Good. You won’t discuss it with anyone else?”

      “No. No, I won’t.”

      It had the weight of a solemn oath. “I’ll sleep better knowing that.”

      Rimon nodded slowly, still studying Solamar. “Take your turn in the room first. I’ll catch a few hours right after dawn. I left Bruce tending a renSime who may be permanently crippled from his injuries. He’s one of our best weavers. And I have to see to that Freebander we saved.”

      Rimon picked his way down the snow covered stairs, kicking the treads free as he went. Solamar followed.

      Zeth Farris had died seeing ghosts. Who would have thought! Now he’d introduced Rimon to the idea ghosts were real. I’ve made a grave mistake here already. But dissembling to a Farris would only make things worse.

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