Tales of Atlantis Lost

By Carl Martin

Gunter Jürgens digs through literally tons of evidence to uncover the truth behind 12,000 years of myth. Merla Velzna had saved the seeds of civilization, but modern science refuses to believe she ever existed.

Tales of Atlantis Lost is book two of Edge of Remembrance. It includes ancient technology, intrigue, murder, deception, super technology, space travel, terraforming another world, and more.

Myth merely tells the stories of real events through the shattered lens of primitive vocabulary. Jürgens and his team discover the real stories behind the myths. In the process, the scientist discovers something about himself that shocks even him.

Gunter Jürgens discovers he has an intelligent and attractive fan who will not go away. When he discovers the secrets within himself and in her, they change his life forever.

Merla Velzna faces her greatest challenge since the destruction of her homeland. But the seeds she planted, nearly 12,000 years ago, bear fruit. And her once scattered family finally comes back together, again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tharsis Highlands
• Release date: Mar 15, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370448579

Carl Martin

Carl Martin is the fiction pen name of Rod Martin, Jr.Rod Martin, Jr. was born in West Texas, United States. He has been a Hollywood artist, a software engineer with a degree summa cum laude, a writer, web designer and a college professor.Rod Martin's interests have ranged from astronomy to ancient history, physics to geology, and graphics arts to motion pictures.He has studied comparative religion, worked as a lay minister and spiritual counselor, and taught ethics in college.While doing graphic arts in Hollywood, he also studied electronic engineering. In 1983, as Carl Martin, he published his first novel, "Touch the Stars: Emergence," co-authored by John Dalmas (Tor Books, NY).Later, switching careers to computers and information technology, Mr. Martin worked for Control Data, Ceridian Payroll, Bank of America, Global Database Marketing and IPRO Tech. He also created "Stars in the NeighborHood" 3D astronomy space software.He currently resides in the Philippines with his wife, Juvy. He has taught information technology, mathematics and professional ethics at Benedicto College, in Cebu. He continues to teach online and to write books and blogs.

Book preview

"Merva sprang, fully armored, from the head of the great god, as a protector of all citizens. The god himself had suffered greatly and was glad finally to be rid of her. And Poseidon returned to the sea over which he holds dominion even to this day." The storyteller paused, looking at the bright faces of the children gathered near the royal court hearth.

Colchis Palace

Epoch 406, Gemini 2050

(4338 BC)

~~~<>~~~

Chapter 1

EPOCH 405, LEO 1067

(Winter 73, 9619 BC)

En Route to Pel es Gelgila

Iberian Peninsula

Merla Velzna looked out the portal of her official, government flyer, but took no joy in the view. The blue, Western Twin Sea looked calm on this sunny, late winter day. To the right, she could see the distant coastline of what would one day be eastern Spain. Out one of the left windows, she could make out the thin ribbon of North Africa, desert coastline.

These few, brief hours of relative quiet during the flight would give her time to rest. And she needed rest.

Merla was not the type of leader who enjoyed her power. Her reluctance to take that power in the first place had been very real. More and more, the burdens in her life had made her feel tired—first as a military commander, and then as an outsider in the sciences. And then, she had grown tired of babysitting what remained of civilization after the deadly, tectonic collapse of her homeland. Though she would not admit to herself her own discomfort, the purpose of this flight seemed to make her feel even more weary.

Everyone knew her as the Hero of Kundelé, savior of all that remained of Atlan, and the first prime minister of the new Rossen Republic. These were valuable commodities that no other living person possessed. She had decided to use these valuable traits for the betterment of humanity, despite her own desire for a quiet and private life. No one else possessed her experience, wisdom and insights. She could see no other person qualified to manage what was left of civilization. And she would not have been able to live with herself had she shirked this responsibility in favor of her own selfish needs.

Her current mission was to investigate the disappearance of the refugees who should have been living at Pel es Gelgila.

After winning the war in Kemet against her own rogue countrymen, a grateful Kemeti people had given her many gifts of food, clothes, blankets and other things. These gifts Merla had decided to distribute amongst the refugees who had been living in the countryside outside each pel. For months, they had been living in relative squalor as second-class citizens to each pel.

From the Eastern Twin Sea and the Nile River Valley, she had worked her way westward, delivering her treasures to the disheartened and homeless.

With those gifts, Merla had brought them and their pel hosts good news and hope. The pels would soon be released from their burden and the refugees would move closer to having homes of their own.

Gelgila had been the last of the pels on her journey. It stood at the far end of the Western Twin Sea, and thus closest to where Atlan once existed. It should have been the first to receive those fleeing the homeland. Instead, Merla had found no refugees there, and the citizens of the pel had insisted that none had ever arrived. It had been an obvious lie and the citizens with whom she had spoken had looked too nervous about their answers.

Merla had appeared there expecting to empty her flyers of their remaining gifts. The memory of her short visit there left her angered and dismayed. Gelgila now felt to her like some sleeping monster, very much like the evil in Androsa. She had known that, one day, she would have to return to investigate this lie. At the time, though, other refugees and pels needed her help for immediate relief, more than any other, the one she had created—Pel es Atenai.

She had considered asking the military commander at Gelgila to investigate the matter further, but then realized that everyone at the base could also have been involved with whatever had happened to those refugees.

The bright colors out her window could just as easily have been bland shades of gray. A part of her felt dead inside, dreading what she would find behind the mystery at Gelgila.

After leaving Gelgila the first time, Merla had arranged for the movement of all the other refugees to Pel es Atenai. Over the following several weeks, more and more of them arrived at the new capital of the Rossen Republic. The harsh living conditions endured by the refugees had remained every bit as uncomfortable, but their morale had soared because they were now so much closer to their new home. Every day, each of them could see progress toward their own new lives. A few of them would be staying in Atenai, but most would be creating a new pel, across the Rossen Sea—the first such pel to be placed on the coast of the Midlands Peninsula.

A greater part of the food exported from Kemet had been sent to Pel es Atenai to support the refugees during their period of transition. Merla had released Marmara of any obligations of support. Though, because of its short distance away, the pel still frequently sent its physician to look after the health of those who needed it. For Androsa, however, Merla still held it to all its prior obligations. The mystery of their crimes still plagued her.

With all of the additional labor available, Merla had begun the construction of the new pel, now named Kirki. Because of its placement on the mainland, though, this new pel was, by far, the most vulnerable to barbarian attack. General Hilzna permanently had assigned several hundred soldiers to the new pel. And, during most of the last eight months, all six of the republic’s serpent ships had been stationed there to help protect the new pel during its construction.

Nine months earlier, during Merla’s initial visit to the older pels, she had been pleasantly surprised to find that an additional 954 refugees had made it to the Western Twin Sea after Atlan’s sinking. These were in addition to those carried by the evacuation flyers. Some had been on ships, mid-ocean when the tsunami had passed. Others had arrived at some of the pels in flyers of various sizes—flyers which had received the good fortune to have been in transit at the start of the catastrophe.

In the last several days, Merla had tracked down the flyer pilots who had been assigned Gelgila as their destination for refugee transport. All five of the flyers that had been received by Gelgila had been used in the war for Kemet, but now had different assignments. None of the pilots, though, could tell her where the one hundred twenty-five refugees had gone after their delivery to Gelgila.

Today, Merla had taken two full-size flyers and three of the serpents back to Gelgila to investigate. With her, she had taken the telepath, Cressa Brezna, who had become so vital to Merla’s efforts in judging the people she sought to investigate. On the five and a half hour flight from Kirki, Merla had possessed more than enough time to figure how she would handle the citizens of the pel.

Not only was Gelgila one of the larger pels, but it claimed the distinctions of richest and oldest, now that Katira was gone. Her current destination was also the closest pel to the isthmus separating the Western Twin Sea from the Great Ocean of Atlan.

All five ships arrived late morning at the pel. There had been no call ahead. Merla figured that to arrive without warning would help to keep the citizens off guard, perhaps making it easier to unsettle one of them enough to answer the riddle of the missing refugees.

One of the flyers landed in the pel’s marketplace. Merla and twenty-four soldiers poured out. The prime minister moved to the side of the marketplace and the troops rushed to block off the avenues of escape. Their flyer took off and the next one landed. Its troops moved on the citizens, now trapped in the marketplace. Those soldiers formed the citizens into a line.

Then, one-by-one, each of the serpent ships landed and disembarked their troops. When done, there were a hundred and twenty armed soldiers and three serpent ships guarding one hundred and forty-two citizens.

Individually, and in turn, each citizen was taken aboard one of the flyers by Merla and accompanied by four soldiers. No explanation was given in advance. On board the flyer, Cressa sat waiting to read each citizen’s thoughts and emotions while Merla asked probing questions. But even as the first interview was taking place, Cressa developed a severe headache.

Your Eminence, said the telepath, shaking her head. I’m sorry. Truly. Please.

Merla could tell by the expression on the young woman’s face that she was in pain. The prime minister motioned for the telepath to sit in one of the other seats. Let me know when you’re feeling better.

While the first few interviews were being conducted, some of the soldiers assisted the merchants in dismantling their stands to make more room—everything moved to the farthest sides of the marketplace. The few merchants who resisted were kept from interfering as the soldiers did the dismantling for them.

As soon as the center of the marketplace had been cleared, some of the soldiers formed a line dividing the space into two unequal parts. On the smaller side, those citizens already interviewed would be kept. On the other side stood those awaiting their turn.

Each interview took place several dozen meters up in the air. Each citizen seemed sufficiently terrified, but equally defiant not to reveal what had happened to the refugees. Even promises of leniency for implicating others did not persuade them to speak.

In her own mind, Merla found each and every citizen to be guilty of withholding vital knowledge.

By late afternoon, the soldiers had rounded up several hundred more from the homes and other businesses of the pel. Even the troops and officers of the pel’s military base had been rounded up for questioning. At the rate interviews were being performed, the entire process would take at least eight days, but Merla was prepared to be very thorough in her questioning.

In deference to the honorable sacrifice of the soldiers during the Kemeti War, she switched to interviewing the military as soon as they had been escorted into the now crowded marketplace. First, she had interviewed officers, then quickly moved on to the common soldiers. Even so, the soldiers alone would take nearly three days to interview.

Very soon, though, it was evident that the military had not been involved in the disappearance of the refugees. Every one of the officers and soldiers had remembered seeing the refugees. On this, their memory was more honest than that of the pel citizens.

As had been requested, early on by General Hilzna, the military had established with the refugees a leader amongst them to liaison with the pel’s mayor. Then one day, the refugees were gone. None of the officers could remember what had been said about their absence, but the mayor and citizens had seemed to the military to be quite matter-of-fact about that absence. Their impression had been that the refugees had found a new home.

With the coming dark of night, Merla felt compelled to trust the officers and soldiers of Gelgila. First, there was the problem with the aircraft. The serpent ships and flyers would be able to hover all night without any problem. If the citizens attempted to rebel, though, especially just before sunrise, the serpents would be able to get off only one or two shots before draining their power cells. Therefore, as each officer, then soldier, was interviewed and found to be more forthcoming, Merla took them into her confidence and asked for their assistance in finding the truth. The additional force might become necessary if the crowd of guilty citizens ever became violent.

At about an hour before sunset, Merla asked some of her Kirki soldiers to work with those Gelgilan soldiers already interviewed. They were to scour the pel and the nearby countryside for evidence of what might have happened.

~~~<>~~~

Outside Pel es Gelgila, a dozen individuals dressed in ragged, dirty clothes, hid behind the semi-desert, hillside rocks, waiting for night to fall so that they could steal the food they needed.

As a matter of caution, they had never stolen from only one food vendor. The pel citizens would be suspicious with any missing food, but too much inventory missing from one vendor’s stock would prove that these few refugees had survived and just as certainly would bring the wrath of the citizens onto those who remained.

Galen Tonoradza had been chosen by the survivors to lead them, and he had accepted that responsibility with some discomfort. As a transport supervisor in the homeland, he had been used to taking on great responsibilities, but this seemed an impossible task—to survive at the edge of the wilderness and with no one in the pel or military base to trust.

To him and his fellow outcasts, it had seemed quite odd that three serpent ships and two flyers had been hovering over the pel. A cautious part of him relaxed enough again to consider hope, then dismissed the idea out of fear of another betrayal.

With only minutes before sunset, Galen became terrified when he heard voices approaching. Carefully, he looked about to see who it was. And there, more than twenty meters downhill, several soldiers were combing the hillside. Though the voices were faint, he could make out what they were saying.

Sir, what will we do if we find them?

That’s up to the prime minister. I don’t doubt she’ll want to know what happened, here—why they’re not where they should be.

The next moment, all reason left Galen’s mind, flooded again by hope and an unreasonable trust. Without another thought, he stood and called out, down to the soldiers nearby. You there, he said. You are from the prime minister?

Beside him, his fellow refugees overwhelmed him for a moment and pulled him down.

The soldiers looked up the hill for the one who had called out, but saw nothing. Then, they saw Galen pop up from behind one of the rocks and struggle to remain standing.

Who are you? asked one of the soldiers. The junior officer then motioned for the soldiers near him to follow him up the hill.

Stay where you are, said Galen. Please!

Very well, said the soldier, but who are you?

I am Galen Tonoradza, of the Transport Class, refugee from Atlan. All I want is to go back home to Pos, if the damage wasn’t too great.

You haven’t heard? asked the soldier. Pos is gone. All of Atlan is gone.

The cold shock of this news forced Galen to inhale sharply, then to exhale raggedly. Then it’s true, his said, his shoulders slumping. Agony. He shook his head. We can’t take much more of this.

How many of you are there? asked the soldier.

Are you here to kill us? asked Galen.

The questioned stunned the soldier for a moment. He looked to his fellow soldiers, each one shaking their head, then he replied, No, of course not. How many are you?

Twenty-one, said Galen. One hundred and four murdered by Gelgila.

The soldier looked stunned. Damn them all! he said. He struggled to regain his composure, then continued to speak with renewed calm and firmness. We are here by order of Prime Minister Merla Velzna and General Hilzna to find out what happened to you and to bring you all to your new home.

Galen laughed, his voice loud but without humor. That’s what we were told before, he said. Where is this new home? The bottom of the sea? The bellies of fishes?

No, gentle sir, said the soldier, trying to console the raggedly dressed man. He knew that it wouldn’t do any of them well to scare off their only lead to the missing refugees. A new pel has been created for all refugees—Kirki, across the Rossen from Shardan Island. Over seven hundred refugee soldiers form the military base, there. All six of the republic’s serpent ships protect that pel while it is under construction. Well, except perhaps for the moment. Three are here to enforce our investigation.

Merla Velzna? asked Galen. The hero of Kundelé?

Yes, kind sir, said the soldier. Please, if you would come with us, we will seek justice from the citizens, then we will take you to your new home, Pel es Kirki.

Galen turned to his fellows and urged them to stand. Then, he turned back to the soldiers and said, Do I have your honorable promise to protect those of us who are left—under the eyes of the One, the ghost of the Empress and the spirit of all Atlan. Do you swear this?

Yes, sir. I swear. And I swear that we will find justice. Please. Follow us.

Galen talked for a moment with his fellows. When done, they agreed to send half back to their hiding place. Galen and the rest would risk this promise.

~~~<>~~~

The sun had already set when the soldiers and six refugees walked into the marketplace. Power cells had already illuminated the lighting panels that decorated the edge of the pel’s center.

A shared gasp rose up from the citizens when they saw the refugees. Then they were deadly silent. As the six, escorted by a dozen soldiers, approached Merla at the center of the marketplace, the pel’s mayor pushed his way through the crowd of those citizens not yet interviewed. He spoke a few sharp words to the soldiers holding everyone back, then three of the soldiers escorted him toward Merla.

The prime minister had just completed another interview of one of the pel’s soldiers and stood waiting to find out who these strangers were.

Prime minister, said the squad leader. These are representatives of what’s left of the refugees. Galen Tonoradza. Galen stepped forward.

Merla look concerned by what she heard. She glanced at the squad leader, then at the approaching mayor and finally at Galen. Sir, welcome, she said to the refugee. Can you please tell me what has happened here?

The mayor attempted to push his way past his guards and said, It’s all lies. Don’t listen to him.

For a moment, Merla glared at the mayor, then turned a more gentle expression to Galen. Dear mayor, kindly be quiet while I talk to this gentleman. Nine months ago, I heard your lies. You said that these people were never here. These six prove you wrong. She held up both of her hands toward Galen, eliciting a response from the refugee.

They killed us, said Galen. Early one morning, while twenty of us were searching the hills for food—food they wouldn’t give to us—the citizens of this dishonorable pel came to our people and told them that transport had been arranged to our new home. One child, too tired to get up, and overlooked by everyone else, had heard these things. As the child watched from her hiding place, she saw four pel citizens to each refugee surround each with wash cloths and water. Instead of cleaning them for their trip, they stabbed them, every one. Later, they used the water to wash away the blood. Then they spread dust over what was left to make the evidence disappear.

Please! said one old woman amongst the pel citizens. She clawed her way through the crowd, only to be held back by the soldiers. Please, dear lady. I had nothing to do with all this. Please, mercy. They were all monsters. What was I to do? They cut up the bodies and used them for fish bait so nothing would ever be found of them.

Merla felt a shock cut through her—a shock more brutal than anything she had ever felt. This was all at once more personal and more horrific than any crime about which she had ever heard—the men, women and children, trusting and innocent, slaughtered like animals. In disgust, the soldiers guarding the mayor stepped away from him.

Cressa left the interview flyer and joined Merla.

Feeling better? Merla asked.

Yes, your Eminence. This was just like Androsa. The same kind of headache.

Merla squinted, trying to understand the significance of what Cressa had told her. She shook her head and turned back to the mayor.

Several expressions crossed the mayor’s face—from fear to anger, then mistrust, indignation and rage. None of them suited him. Only remorse and acceptance would’ve made him seem less than a complete monster.

You make me so ashamed to be Atlani, said Merla to all the pel citizens, as she scanned the crowd. Her voice bellowed, occasionally screeching at the edge of control. You are worse than the Androsans, worse than the barbarians—by the One on high, worse than animals. I will have each one of you tortured to death—slowly, painfully. I’ll have you live for weeks in agony for what you’ve done to those poor people. You will know a terror that will make the heavens shudder. Do you hear me!

Merla marched straight for the nearest soldier, not even looking at his face, unsheathed his sword, and turned back to the mayor. In one swift movement, she swung the sword through the air with a warrior’s grace and finality. For one breathless moment, the mayor looked back at her in horror, then his head toppled from his lifeless body. And then his body crumpled to the ground amidst a growing pool of blood.

Merla’s chest quaked with grief as she dropped the sword to one side. Her face twisted in anger and agony. She looked down at her hands and blinked at the blood splattered on them. God! What have I done?

Abruptly, the citizens’ growing cries of terror filled the marketplace.

All three of the serpent ships moved in on them, hovering dangerously close, pointing their pulse crystals at the mass of citizens crowded to one side. All of the soldiers pulled their swords or knives and held them ready—for the panic of the crowd, or for Merla’s orders.

Galen was shocked by the abruptness of the mayor’s death, but his expression quickly softened to one of somber, quiet grief—not so much for the mayor, but that there had been a need for bloodshed. A part of him had wanted revenge, but a greater part merely wanted food and shelter for his people.

Merla forced herself to breathe more calmly. She knew that this would be one of those moments she would forever regret. Killing someone had never seemed so necessary, but now so wrong. The long future promise of civilization was tainted by what she had done here, and she couldn’t take it back. She had become the monster she had raged to vanquish. She had succumbed to the fury and had set an example that other, future leaders might all too easily attempt to mimic.

She raised her head and looked at the citizens cowering away from the soldiers and their drawn weapons. Her expression was a mix of disgust and suppressed grief, frozen onto her numb face.

Cressa distracted her by approaching the crowd. The young telepath seemed intent on finding someone.

As quickly as Merla’s rage had taken her, an urgent need for calm and reason filled her thoughts. She lifted up her head and shoulders and took in a slow, deep breath. Citizens of Pel es Gelgila, she said, loudly. You have an alternative to torture and death. If all who participated in the killing will move to that side of the marketplace, she pointed, the remainder will be spared execution.

At first, silence gripped the citizens. Then, a wave of murmurs swept the crowd, quickly followed by shouts and frantic shoving. Everyone seemed to know at least several who had participated in the murders. Many of the guilty fought fiercely to keep from being winnowed out. Finally, a reluctant few strode across the marketplace to face their punishment. The fighting gradually subsided and more moved to be counted amongst the guilty.

When the movement of citizens had stopped, roughly one-third—four hundred and ninety-three—stood ready for execution. Some appeared defiant, but most held expressions of terror and desperation on their faces.

Your Eminence, said Cressa. There! Him! She pointed to a middle-aged man wearing a short, black beard and short-cropped hair.

The man licked his lips, eyes furtively looking around for an escape, but he found none. A nearby soldier grabbed one of his arms. But suddenly, the soldier screamed and reached up to his head in agony. Three other solders closed in on the man and pel citizens backed away.

Who is this man? asked Merla. She scanned the crowd, waiting for an answer.

A merchant, replied someone. He’s lived here, unmarried, for several years.

Garnig Patonen, said another.

Sorcerer Class, said Cressa. He’s the one who gave me the headache, earlier.

Merla nodded. Very possibly the one behind all this chaos. But why? She looked directly at Patonen. Speak up. What do you have to do with the murders, here?

The merchant merely smiled—a twisted, mocking expression that seemed more filled with hate than joy.

Merla looked to Cressa. The young woman was shaking her head—her face creased with lines of revulsion.

Cressa?

Your Eminence, Cressa pointed at the man. Simple selfishness. He was bilking the citizens of their surplus and creating a life of wealth for himself while providing no benefit to others. The refugees had threatened his self-indulgent lifestyle.

Are there any other telepaths, here?

No, your Eminence.

Recommendations?

Me, your Eminence?

Yes, Cressa. You’re my only expert on such things.

He’s not a very powerful telepath. I had not expected to find a telepath here, so I had let down my guard. But I would not call him harmless. His mind is full of self-concern—the root of all evil.

Did he have anything directly to do with the deaths of the refugees?

Yes, your Eminence. He is the one who planted the ideas in the heads of nearly everyone else involved.

All right. Merla nodded and turned to the base commander. Bind the hands of the guilty. From this day forth, they will be slaves. They have lost all rights as citizens. Place them on ten of the pel’s fifteen fishing vessels. I want ten armed soldiers on each ship. If any of the prisoners on board one ship cause any trouble, all of them on that boat are to be immediately executed. She spoke loudly enough to be heard by the prisoners.

As for the troublemaker, here, Merla shook her head, we don’t have the luxury of keeping him alive. He’s too much of a liability, and he has done too much harm already. She nodded to the soldiers holding the man.

Patonen immediately tried to give each soldier a headache to keep them from doing what he feared was next. But Cressa blocked his attempts and drove the pain back into his own skull.

Merla held both hands flat and chopped the palm of one with the edge of the other. Each soldier knew the meaning of the gesture and immediately drew their swords, promptly ending the life of Garnig Patonen, the merchant who had contributed nothing to their society—and one who had taken so much.

Later, the twenty-one refugees were picked up by one of the flyers and immediately flown toward their new home. Merla made certain that some of the pel’s best food accompanied them so immediately their hunger would end.

Before leaving, Merla talked with the base commander to let her know that she and her soldiers would not be made to suffer for the pel’s criminal acts. Food would be sent to them to supplement what the pel should be able to give them, even with their reduced workforce and smaller fishing fleet.

As Merla approached her flyer to leave, several citizens walked up to her, hesitantly. One man asked what would become of his wife, now a prisoner on one of the fishing boats headed for the new pel.

You will never see her again, said Merla. She will spend the rest of her life serving the refugees she betrayed. She has lost all rights as a citizen. She is now a slave with no possibility of redemption.

Another man asked, What about my fishing boats? I had three and now you’ve taken them all.

Merla stared at him coldly for a moment, then asked, Do you really want to ask that question? Abruptly, she turned from them and boarded the flyer. The night air had grown cold and she was glad finally to be on her way home.

~~~<>~~~

For the next three days, Merla buried herself in her work. Each morning, she set unrealistic goals for herself and felt better for the constant distraction they afforded her.

On the first day, she went with Cressa to Androsa. There, they arrived unannounced and in secret, to scan the pel for a telepath, like the one in Gelgila. When the evil young woman was found, the military had her executed in the marketplace for treason.

This sorceress is responsible, Merla told the crowd, for forcing thoughts into your minds to do unspeakable crimes. For her vile evil, she has been executed so that she can never again tempt others to do wrong. But every one of you who participated in the crimes which hang over Androsa remain responsible for your own actions. Every one of you who knew something, but remained silent, stand responsible for your crimes of complicity. The burden of your guilt will stay with you for the rest of your lives. Any future infraction will result in the death of all Androsans. Let this execution be a warning that I will not tolerate any further treason from any of you. The few threads of civilization that remain cannot survive if you think only of yourself.

After her short speech, she returned to the new pel to assist in the construction.

Each night, exhausted, she slept at Pel es Kirki, amongst the refugees—each night, that is, except tonight. Aten would be returning to Pel es Atenai this evening and she wanted to be there waiting for him.

The flight took less than forty minutes from Kirki to Atenai. The sun had set only minutes before, by the time she had arrived. It seemed everyone in the pel had been busy preparing for Aten’s homecoming.

Months earlier, someone at Atenai had discovered that the oil of the seydin fruit could be used as a source of light. Maker Argaeyu had created dozens of simple lamps for the citizens to use in their homes. Most of these were now spread about the edge of the pel’s unfinished marketplace. Their warm glow made the place feel ever more like home.

Tables of food stretched across one end of the broad gathering place. And the pel’s one musician had his instrument in hand, playing for those who still worked to set up the feast and celebration.

After Merla had finished admiring all of the preparations, Ugelia Mazna escorted her to the Mazna residence. The seydin production master didn’t offer any explanation and Merla felt happy to comply without question. She hadn’t felt so cheerful in years.

On the way there, a young woman passed them, carrying more food for the festival tables. The woman nodded to the prime minister out of respect, but couldn’t stop giggling. She quickened her pace and hurried past.

At Ugelia’s house, two women stood beside the entrance and opened the door as Ugelia and Merla approached. Both of the women standing there lowered their heads and covered their mouths, tittering or smiling, and suddenly Merla felt pleasantly suspicious.

Inside, two other women waited. Around the room, three oil lamps lit the interior with a warm glow.

Merla turned back to Ugelia and shook her head, tilting it slightly as if to ask the obvious question.

The two by the entrance closed the door and Ugelia smiled and pointed back to one of the other women. When Merla looked, the woman was holding a long white gown. Its exquisite, flowing design and gracefully draping cloth took Merla’s breath away.

It’s beautiful, said Merla.

As she said those words, she felt hands tugging at her blouse. Before Merla realized that the lovely white gown had been for her, the women around her had begun to undress her to receive it.

For a moment, Merla felt overwhelmed by what they were doing. Softly, but quickly, they removed her soiled garments, then steadied her as two of the women knelt and removed her boots. The next moment, she stood nakedly as all five of them moistened her with sponges, cleaning the day’s work from her body. The water had been scented with flowers and left her intoxicated with its fragrance.

Next, they toweled her dry, and bound her with a soft undergarment. Then, they raised her arms and slid the dress over her, adjusting it and pinning it in place with a gold and ruby broach.

While three worked on the dress, the other two toweled her hair once again and tied it back with a deep red ribbon. Scented oil was then lightly applied to her hair to coax it all into a more elegant design.

Finished with the dress, two of the women then wrapped her ankles with the ties of her new sandals. As a last touch, fresh flowers with pure white petals were fastened to her hair above her left ear.

There was no mirror with which Merla could gaze on their creation, but from the looks in their eyes, she knew that the sum of it must have become magical.

Merla closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to imagine what she must look like and what Aten would see when he would first gaze on her after having spent so many months away from her. And for a brief time, she both wept and laughed softly, turning from one woman to the next, giving each of them an affectionate embrace.

Then, it became their turn. Playfully, they stripped themselves