Baptism by Fire, Stacey Doss [reading rainbow books .txt] 📗

area. She picked Jor up, grabbed the bowl with the other hand, and walked into the dining room. Yep, it was empty, so she plopped into a chair and began spooning the smooth mush into Jor’s eager mouth.

“Dat is pretty baby.”

Arlissa jumped, smearing food across Jor’s cheek. She turned to see a Merc leaning against the doorframe. She glanced at the intruder and then the opposite door, planning her escape if necessary.

“Sorry to disturb. I come for my bag.” He pointed to the corner and her eyes followed his movement. Indeed, there was a crumpled, dusty, worn bag leaning against the wall. Somehow, she missed it when she came into the room.

He stepped around the table and stooped to snag the bag in his meaty hands. For a man who was so stocky and heavy-looking, he walked very softly. It had always amazed Arlissa as a little girl that they could come into a room and you wouldn’t even hear them. She hugged Jor protectively, her eyes glued to the Merc. Jor fussed; he was still hungry. Arlissa patted him absently. There was no way she was going to be distracted and let this murderer get too close to her and her brother.

He was young, probably in his mid-twenties, but he already had the creases of hard work and slim rations etched on his face. His eyes were sunken in, hidden in shadow, making him look even more evil than she already thought. He hitched the bag’s strap onto his broad shoulder and moved toward the exit. “Sorry to disturb. Please to go back to feed da baby,” he said as he left without a glance back.

Huh. She sat back in the chair. That was strange, she thought. Suddenly, a baby hand smacked her gently on her cheek and a wail pierced through her fog. She looked down at Jor. “Sorry, sweetie,” she soothed as she resumed feeding the little boy.

Her parents came into the dining room as she finished wiping Jor’s face. “Have you eaten, Lissa?” Joila asked as she sat beside the girl.

“No, I thought I’d feed Jor first.” She set the boy on the floor.

“Let me make you a plate.” Arlissa saw Joila and Papa exchange looks before Joila bustled into the kitchen. Kerl sat in the chair across the table and leaned forward. Uh oh, Lissa thought. I’m in trouble now.

“Lissa, we need to talk about your actions this evening.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“You embarrassed me, yourself and this family by your outburst and refusal to join us for supper.”

“But…”

“Do not interrupt. Chorhon and Burguro are my guests, and should have been treated as such. We had very important business matters to discuss, negotiations which would benefit both sides, and your prejudice nearly ruined that.”

She opened her mouth but he held a hand up.

“I know you believe they killed your mother. Goodness knows I’ve tried the last four years to convince you otherwise. Your mama got sick, yes. But it wasn’t their fault. It just happened. They couldn’t help getting sick any more than your mother could. That’s just the nature of epidemics. Now, most of them are gone, and those still alive are struggling to survive.”

Anger and resentment built up inside until it exploded through her mouth. “I don’t care if they all die! They’re filthy, stinking dogs who can’t take care of themselves and need us to feed them and clothe them. They can all go to rot for all I care!”

“Enough!” Kerl roared and slammed his hand on the table. Jor jumped and burst into tears. Kerl leaned down and scooped up the boy, snuggling him against his chest. “Sorry, buddy,” he whispered against the baby’s head then turned back to Arlissa.

In a slightly less angry tone, he repeated, “Enough! I don’t want to hear any more of that poison spewing from your mouth. You WILL be respectful of ANYONE I bring home, regardless of their race. You WILL treat our guests with courtesy. I WILL NOT have a repeat of today, EVER. Do you understand?”

Arlissa bowed her head. She knew she’d overstepped. Her father never raised his voice like that and it scared her. “Yes, Papa.”

“Good. Now eat your supper.”

She looked up to see Joila setting a steaming plate of stew in front of her. Their eyes met, and Arlissa saw sympathy glistening in unshed tears. She remembered, then, that Joila understood her pain; she’d lost her first husband in the same epidemic.

They left her alone to choke down her food.

Chapter Two

"Where's Papa?" Arlissa asked as she entered the kitchen.

Joila was standing over the wood stove, frying. "He's walking Chorhon and Burguro back to the city."

"Oh." Arlissa leaned over the pan and blinked the steam from her eyes. A slab of slightly purple meat was sizzling. "Burbul!" she exclaimed as she sniffed appreciatively, smacking her lips. She loved burbul. "Why didn't he take the Robin?"

"You know your Papa. He'd rather walk."

"Yeah. Not me. Give me convenience any day. I don't care how much it costs, give me a Robin to fly, a portable comm-cell to be able to call my friends, and burbul at least once a week!" She took the plate from Joila, heaping with thinly-sliced meat topped with an over-easy fried egg.

Joila chuckled. "You are the quintessential princess, aren't you?"

"Yep!" They sat and ate their steak and eggs in companionable silence. Arlissa reflected on how much she's grown to love Joila in the last couple of years.


Papa came home one day to tell Arlissa that he was dating a lady named Joila. Arlissa was shocked. Her mother had been gone not quite two years; how could he even think of another woman? She screamed and threw a fit, acting like a three-year-old instead of almost sixteen.

“I don’t want a new mama!” she remembered yelling. How she must have hurt his feelings, with the mean and hateful words that came out of her mouth, but at the time she didn’t care. She desperately missed her mother, and felt betrayed by Papa because he didn’t seem to feel the same way.

When she met Joila the first time, Arlissa was cold and withdrawn. Papa must have prepped Joila, though, because she didn’t seem offended, or even phased by, Arlissa’s attitude. Joila chatted casually, must as if she was just a friend of the family. Arlissa found Joila to be cheery and bubbly, a happy-go-lucky woman who liked to shop. Sadness lurked in her eyes, though, and Joila shared with her later about Artar’s death.

It had been hard at first to see someone come in to replace her mother when she and Papa got married. However, Joila had made a point to be more of a friend than a new mother, and Arlissa soon accepted the change. Oh, they butted heads of course, just like any teen and authority figure, but there was respect between them, too. When Arlissa turned sixteen, Joila made it a big deal: inviting her closest friends, over-decorating the house, and baking pies and cakes for the party.

It had been a difficult day, of course; Mama should have been there as she moved from child to adult. But Joila cushioned the pain with her presence, and that was the day Arlissa realized just what Joila meant to her.

She looked over to the woman who had become her best friend. “I love you, Mama Joila.”

Joila looked up, surprise on her face. “I love you, too, Liss.”

They finished the last few bites, and Arlissa took their empty plates to the kitchen and washed them. "Thanks for breakfast, Mama Joila. I think I'm going to wander outside for a bit. I'm a little restless, for some reason." She walked out of the door and meandered to the edge of the Barrens. She looked over the marshy land, green from the water that lay just below the surface, deceptively pleasant. One step off the path, however, and you would find yourself sinking knee deep in mud and mire, slowly being sucked down into the depths of the swamp, to die of suffocation. Or, if you miraculously didn't get caught by the quicksand that hid under the rushes, you could find yourself wandering miles of boggy land filled with snakes, poisonous frogs, and blood-sucking flies. There was only one truly safe continuous path through, and her father took this daily to the capital city of Blen’hran.

Arlissa had no idea why her father liked to walk to the through this death trap. But he found something relaxing in it, stating many times that the challenge of the walk helped him to forget the stress of work and the feeling of victory every time he emerged safely was invigorating. He told Arlissa the walk kept him young; indeed, he did look younger than his fifty-two years.

Arlissa would rather fly the Robin to Blen’hran whenever she wanted to visit. When she was younger, she lived in the city, but after her mother's death, Kerl decided it would be better to move out into the country. She didn't know what was behind that sudden decision, and fought tooth and nail, but now she preferred the country. She liked the quiet, soothed to sleep many a night by the songs of the frogs. Joila grew up in the country, and helped decide the current location because the Barrens reminded her of the lake area where she grew up on the other side of the Andara Mountains. She never really felt like she fit in with the citizens of the capital; her speech was coastal, she was shorter and chubbier than the more slender Central Andarans, and loved the sea.

Arlissa pulled a rush from the edge of the bog and squatted in the dirt. The cool air of the dormant season raised goose bumps on her arm and she wished she'd grabbed a sweater. She propped her chin on her knees and stared across the land. "Maybe I can run to Blen’hran and go shopping. I need some new combs for Tatana's party next month, and a new blouse wouldn't hurt." She played with the slender green plant. She didn't really want to go shopping. She didn't want to do anything.

She looked to the left and saw the distant mountains stretching from far south across the continent to disappear in the horizon to the north. She thought of the coastal cities on the other side of the range. She’d only been there once with her mother when she was ten. The smell of the sea stirred something in her, and she spent as long as she could on the beach, running in the foam, sitting and letting the waves roll over her legs. The salt dried her skin, but she didn’t care. It was hard to come back home and face the nasty, stinky, dangerous bog. I could go to Andara Lake; they’ll have boats available still, she thought.

She stood and went back into the house. Mama Joila had just clicked off the comm-cell and turned to Arlissa. “Hey, sweetie, your papa has some news…how would you like to go to Je’ble for a week?”

“What?” She jerked to a stop. Je’ble. She hadn’t been there since the year her mother died.

“Your Papa thought you might like a vacation. You haven’t hardly been out of the house since we moved here, except to go to parties and go shopping. He thought you might like to get away from Andara and travel. He said