The council meeting was brief and to the point.

“Who are you?” snapped Maril, the weathered lines on her face severe beneath her bright white hair.

Rial answered with his name.

“And where are you from?”

Rial spoke shortly about his old village, a remote community far across the wastes[1] and nestled within the mountains. It did not exist anymore, he told them.

It seemed the council were allowing Maril to take the lead, which was probably for the best. Though the handful of people that made up the council had once been among the strongest, most important figures in saving the city, under Maril’s furious gaze they tended to quiver and fall silent. It was easier to face a group of angry grakar than incur her wrath.

“And how did you come here, alone and unarmed? We have heard some unusual stories from the guards.”

That would be Hurstrom, Tala knew. He had not returned the night before, after he had run off to gather others. Must have been telling anyone he could find about the strange circumstances surrounding Rial’s arrival.

“I am not a threat to the planet, so it is not a threat to me,” answered Rial.

Tala drew in a sharp breath. He was going to tell them everything?

“Not a threat?” Maril gave a derisive snort. “What nonsense. Still, you survived somehow, though whether through luck or madness I know not. I need you to teach as many of us as possible how you did.”

“I shall, to the best of my ability, but it is unlikely I can be of much use. The longer I stay here the more the likelihood my ‘luck’ will run out.”

Maril eyed him warily. In some ways, it sounded as if Rial was mocking her.

Tread carefully, Tala willed Rial. He didn’t seem to notice.

“If you wish to stay here for any period of time whatsoever you will participate fully in supporting the city,” Maril said.

“I am glad to,” replied Rial, “but I do not plan on being here long. There is much I need to see.”

The council murmured in surprise. No one who made it to the city had ever spoken as if they were only visiting.

The building in which they stood was located close to the northern wall, a four-storey high structure stripped to its bare bones for materials. Once, it had been a warehouse, storing the carcasses of cattle brought in from the land outside. Now it consisted of nothing more than water-stained walls of peeling paper and crumbling mortar.

The council sat in their usual places, one side of a long rectangular wooden table upon which sat piles of notes, maps, and anything else that might become necessary at short notice. Rial, Trian and Tala stood on the other side. No chairs were laid out for those who spoke to the council like this.

Tala disliked them even more than she did most people. A bunch of old bores set in their ways and scared of the world beyond the walls. The stories of their younger days still drew her respect, but looking at them now it was hard not to feel contempt. Age had softened them, increased their anxiety and fed their fear of the outside.

“You made it here, boy, and you wish to leave? No matter, we are not a prison. You can leave whenever you like.”

Maril was almost laughing.

We are a prison, thought Tala. Only it is not us who are the wardens.

“Do not trust him!”

The shout came from behind them, where several others were gathered, whether to watch the proceedings or for their own appointments Tala did not know.

Karal. Tala had only ever seen the look in his eyes she saw now when vivinder was involved.

“I met others like him before I came to this city,” Karal continued. His eyes flicked down to meet Tala’s then returned to the council. “They move around out there, and the Wasting does not touch them. I’ve seen them go for days after being cut by the grasses.”

An untended cut from the ever-reddening vegetation beyond the burnt earth was a death-sentence. Quickly infected, seemingly minor wounds would turn yellow and erupt in painful sores that spread further along the flesh. Strong antiseptics were needed to prevent this, which was why iodine and pure alcohol was always a high priority for scouting parties.

Karal had stepped forward, carried by the vehemence of his own words.

“They can seem as lucid as you or I, as sane as any, but they are not. They destroy at the first chance they get.”

Rial turned to look at him, curiosity on his face.

“How does this happen?” he asked. “How can they survive?”

“The vivinder.”

Karal’s reply drew the first look of surprise Tala had seen from Rial’s face. Trian, previously quiet, mumbled something unintelligible to his friend.

“They eat the vivinder?” Rial sounded shocked, his eyes widening in horror. “When did this start? How far has it spread?”

Karal was now facing Rial directly, hostility flashing in his gaze.

“Do not play dumb with me. You are an addict. I see it in your eyes.”

What?

Tala froze. How had she missed that?

Indeed, Rial’s hazel eyes were tinged with violet. She had missed it because it was… different from the eyes of addicts, from the eyes of the dead. Instead of the vivid violet that stood out with some inner glow, Rial’s eyes were infused with the colour.

“My eyes are also that colour, Karal. I have been here more than fifteen suns, and they have always been so. It is how my people’s eyes always were. Do you accuse me of using the leaf too?”

Trian had strode between the two before Tala could, leaning in close to Karal and fixing him with his stare. Tala sidled around, feeling foolish as she did so, to get a better look at his eyes.

It was true. While Rial’s were hazel and Trian’s brown, their eyes were both suffused with a watery violet tinge. If a painter had drawn their irises he would have been using tainted water to clean his brush.

But it was their irises only, and without the glow that stood out even in the darkness.

Karal appeared stumped. He glared at Trian, but stood back.

“We must be wary,” he said.

Karal looked defeated, but Tala had seen this before. She could tell by the set of his shoulders, by the tension in his closed fists, that for him this was not over. She would need to be wary, indeed. Wary of him.

She swore aloud. Rial had turned back to the council and was asking them questions.

“We took this position because somebody had to,” Maril was saying. She looked affronted. “The city needed leadership, boy, and believe me it was not something I… we… wanted to do.”

“I understand,” replied Rial. “I was just curious as to how this council was formed.”

“There will be plenty of chances to ask these questions of people with more time on their hands, should you find any,” Maril replied. It was clear she was finished with Rial. “I would like you to consider working with our scouting parties for as long as you are here. Tala will keep an eye on you, I am sure.”

Tala started at the sound of her own name. She hurriedly turned to Maril and bowed, making sounds of affirmation, grabbing Rial by the arm and dragging him away.

“I know exactly who she reminded you of,” said Trian once they were some way away. “But it’s not the same as him.”

Tala was beginning to understand their strange dialect, providing it was simple enough sentences.

Rial nodded.

“The water here is pure, I can assure you of that,” continued Trian at some unspoken question.

Rial nodded again. He looked preoccupied.

“Something is coming,” he said suddenly. “Things are not as we… as I expected them to be. I need time to think.”

Rial paced off ahead, walking in long strides the other two fought a losing battle to keep up with. He headed, unerringly, towards Tala’s building.

[1] Though he called them “the plains.” Tala had not heard that name since she was a child.