Zafiil: Firedancer's Hand

The epic saga of the Faulfenza's third messiah continues in the second volume of Zafiil, FireDancer's Hand.

Journey with Zafiil to the borders of the Alliance in her search for enlightenment, dive into her recent history as a student at the Hearth and her difficult history with Daqan, the Voice of the God, and then return to Qufiil for the gripping finale of her story.

Are the Faulfenza prepared for the FireBorn, and the Others? And is Zafiil ready, at last, to face the role that will see her remembered forever in history?

Zafiil: FireDancer's Hand brings the epic saga of the Faulfenza's first contact with the Pelted Alliance to a stunning close.

Genre (setting): space opera
Tags: aliens, first contact, religion
Rating: PG-13 for references to violence

Excerpt from Part 2

Her preoccupation took her straight into her cabin without glancing first at the occupancy light… which was how she swung into the room just as someone was leaving it. Her squeal of surprise mingled with the stranger’s, and Zafiil backpedaled—or tried, only managing to tangle her legs.

The deck in the living areas of the station was covered in thick padding. Zafiil was grateful. “Oh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to run into you!”

“Well, that’s one way of saying ‘hello’... so here’s my ‘hello’ back.” The other girl grinned and pushed Zafiil’s legs away so she could stand and offer her hand.

The stranger’s coat shone blue-black, edged with peach and white, and her mane fell in luxuriant ringlets from between her ears; she was tall, but she leaned forward as if rushing the worlds head-on. The restlessness of her twitching tail was echoed in her orange eyes, but there was a good humor in her smile that calmed Zafiil’s mortification at having made such a major faux pas with what could only be one of her roommates. She took the proffered hand and stood.

“Your ‘hello’ was a lot less embarrassing than mine! I’m Zafiil Paidiiza, and I’m in room 32.”

The girl grinned at her. “Excellent! Me too. I’m glad we got all the awkward parts out of the way already. I’m Luna Deziina.”

“Things can only get less awkward from here,” Zafiil agreed, rueful. “I was about to make food, if there’s any here... would you like to eat with me?”

“Would I ever! I just got here, and I am starving! I haven’t even had a chance to get down to the advising office.”

The kitchen’s small cold-keep had a few staples, so Zafiil chose a tin of milk and poured two cups, one for herself, and one for Luna. She tried the pantry, was pleasantly surprised to find fresh iizi. That with some petal spread would get them to dinner, and hopefully an excursion to where students typically found their food. “Do you know what curriculum you want to follow?”

Luna leaned against the counter. “Of course! I’m going to be an Emissary.”

Delighted, Zafiil said, “An Emissary! Oh, me too!”

“What else?” Luna said, grinning. “It’s the best thing you could possibly be.”

“I think so—”

“Which makes you a Faulfenzair of exceptional good sense. Here, let me have that, I’ll slice while you get the filling.”

Zafiil relinquished the knife and loaf to the other girl and brought out the jar. “How did you decide? Did you always know?”

“That I was going to be an Emissary? Oh, since I knew they existed!”

Zafiil’s heart fluttered. Truly, another kindred spirit! “Then you understand the call of the stars.”

Luna threw her a baffled look. “What? I want to be an Emissary because I want to bring the Lost Kin home!” She threw her ringlets over a shoulder and lifted her chin as if posing, her orange eyes a-flash. “I’m going to find them, and then everyone will know my name!” The girl grinned again and resumed slicing the iizi. “What about you? Why do you want to be an Emissary?”

“I am here because I want to be here. Because this is my home, and has always been my home.”

Zafiil said it because it was the truth, and had to be said, not because she expected understanding. Certainly Duzai would have shrugged it off and changed the subject, and Renii would have—well. Not understood. But Luna’s query had the focus of someone who felt she could wrest understanding from confusion by sheer force of will. “You don’t mean that literally. Unless you were born here. Were you born on the Hearth? I thought they made pregnant Faulfenza go back to the planet.”

“I didn’t mean I was literally born on the station,” Zafiil said, torn between exasperation and what she suspected was a growing amusement.

“So… metaphorically.”

Zafiil coughed to hide her laugh, because surprisingly, she wanted to. Shaking her head, she took one of the pieces of iizi and started spreading the petal glaze on it. “Not metaphorically. I meant in the way that dreams are true, I’ve always known that the stars were friends. Faulza has told me this is where I need to be.”

Luna grinned. “Oh, so the God speaks to you?”

“The God speaks to all of us,” Zafiil said firmly. She already liked Luna but she wasn’t willing to be run over by the force of her roommate’s personality.

“He hasn’t spoken to me, last time I checked.”

“Maybe you weren’t listening hard enough.”

Luna paused, glanced at her… and then they both burst into laughter.

“Here,” the girl said, handing her a plate. “Let’s eat. Why’d you leave the milk cold? Last I checked, Faulza never said it was forbidden to use the MindFire to heat drinks.”

“You keep forgetting you weren’t listening when Faulza was talking to you,” Zafiil quipped. “Anyway, I can’t use the MindFire.”

“Why?”Luna asked, puzzled.

“I don’t have it yet.”

“You... you don’t have Faulza’s Gift?” Luna stared at Zafiil. “Next you’ll be telling me you can’t Dance!”

“Well, no. I can’t do that either,” Zafiil admitted, ears flushing.

“Faulza on the Shoulders!” Luna exclaimed, then made much of staring at Zafiil with mock suspicion. “You’re not an Other, are you?”

Zafiil laughed. “Not that I know of!”

Luna sat next to her at the table. “Why can’t you Dance? Or use the MindFire?”

“The FireMother of Qodii told me I couldn’t attend the Dance learning, because I already knew how to Dance. And I can’t use the MindFire because Faulza hasn’t given it to me yet.”

“You just said you can’t Dance, so obviously that FireMother was wrong, so that’s confusing enough right there. Why didn’t Faulza give you the MindFire?”

“I don’t know,” Zafiil answered truthfully, then grinned. “He neglected to mention it to me last time we talked.”

Sagely, Luna dipped her head. “You’ll have to ask Him next time He drops by. I’ll remind you.”

They started laughing again. She didn’t mind Luna’s curiosity, because nothing about it felt prurient; it was obvious the other Faulfenzair thought of her as an interesting puzzle, not a grotesque curiosity. “So you can’t Dance... can you at least understand it?”

“Every Faulfenzair can understand the Dance. You learn that when you’re a child!”

“You learn to Dance when you’re a child, too,” Luna pointed out. “There was no reason for me to assume that you could understand it if you didn’t learn to do it. Besides, I still think you’re some sort of alien and you’re just not telling me.”

Giggling, Zafiil said, “I look pretty Faulfenzair for an Other, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know... you could be in disguise.”

“Luna!” Zafiil began to laugh in earnest.

“I’m serious! What with His Voice suddenly popping into existence and running all over the doubled worlds... for all I know, the Others could be here already, the Lost Kin could be walking among us without clothing to confuse us, and I’m the next FireBorn!”

Zafiil’s hand froze on her cup. “You shouldn’t joke about such things.”

“Why? Luna asked blithely.

“Because it isn’t proper.”

Luna sniffed. “Faulza didn’t give me a brain and a sense of humor so I could somberly nod my head over His prophecies like an old, toothless mother’s-mother.”

The rest of her food didn’t seem so appetizing anymore. Zafiil pushed the plate away. “I see very little humor associated with His prophecies, His Voice, or His FireBorn.”

“How would you know? The Voice of Faulza could be a jester who laughs at everything and everyone.”

“He’s not.”

“And now,” Luna said, raising her eyes to ask for patience, “you’re about to tell me that you’ve met him.”

“Actually, I have.”

That silence was almost funny, as was the way Luna was staring at her with those enormous orange eyes. Finally, the girl said, “You can’t Dance, you don’t have the MindFire, you have conversations with stars and gods, and now you’ve met the Voice. Is there anything else weird about you I should know?”

Zafiil stifled her laughter.

“I mean it!”

“I know!” Zafiil sobered, sighed. “I know. But I don’t know what to say. All these things seem normal to me since I lived through them.” She rose. As she gathered her plate, Luna plucked the half-eaten iizi off it and started munching.

“Why yes, please, take the rest of my food,” Zafiil teased.

“You weren’t going to eat it, and I’m still hungry.” Luna grinned. Swallowing to clear her mouth, she added, “What’s he like?”

Zafiil rinsed out the cups. “Who... Daqan?”

“Is that his name? The Voice?”

“It is, yes.” She could talk about this as if it didn’t matter. As if it she was reciting facts that everyone knew. “He’s... well, he has some of your qualities, actually.”

Luna looked torn between pride and suspicion. “Really? How would you know? You’ve just met me!”

“Most people carry their attitudes on their bodies, and you… you look determined. The Voice is too, but in him it’s because he’s... well, he’s Fire-touched. He has so much energy and passion, it feels dangerous to come near him. Like lightning.”

Luna set her back against the side of her chair so she could stare at Zafiil, ears stretched wide. “How did you meet him? Where’d he come from? I’ve heard the stories, of course, but not from someone who might have been there.”

How to describe it? Zafiil’s hands slowed as she dried the first cup. “He came out of the darkness just like lightning, and as quickly.” Should she say ‘and as dramatically’? But she didn’t want to sound jaundiced. “The FireMother was giving the ritual speech to start the Festival so that Qiirun could Dance... I was sitting with the WisdomDancer.”

Luna interrupted. “I thought only village elders sat together.”

“I was his apprentice,” Zafiil said. “The WisdomDancer’s, I mean.”

“Ai! So you’re a WisdomDancer?”

“I could be, with a few more months’ work.”

“A WisdomDancer who can’t Dance,” Luna muttered to herself. “Now I have heard everything. So far…!”

“Anyway, just as the FireMother reached the part about the FireBorn having come to help us, Daqan appeared, vowing that it was not the last time a FireBorn had come to help us and that another was on his way. And then he Danced for us the tale of his vision in Sainai.”

Luna’s eyes sparkled. “That must have been amazing.”

“It was—” What to say? “It was,” she finished, lamely. “Anyway, that’s how he appeared.”

“For the God’s sake, Zafiil! Don’t stop there! What happened after that?”

Zafiil grimaced. “It’s not really much of a story after that. We gathered in the FireMother’s house—”

“‘We’? Who is ‘we’?”

“The Favored Dancer, the WisdomDancer, the FireMother, Daqan and I.”

“You got to go, too?”

Zafiil put the cups away to hide her disquiet. “Yes. Anyway, the FireMother started asking Daqan questions. She’d been having dreams, and Jeqezii too, and the dreaming incense hadn’t helped clarify any of her visions.”

Luna stared at her. “Who uses the dreaming incense anymore? I thought that was something only the ancients had.”

“It’s not,” Zafiil said. “Though it is rare. Jeqezii-ai only had a little bit of it.”

“You saw it?”

“He asked me to get it when the FireMother decided we should use it.”

“That… we… should use it…”

Zafiil smiled at her wryly. “Don’t worry, I didn’t have any prophetic dreams while breathing it. I fell asleep.”

“You... you.... never mind.” Luna rubbed her brow. “But really, go on.”

“Anyway, the FireMother and the Voice talked, and then we exchanged a few words, and that’s how I met him. And trust me, he’s not a jester.”

Luna studied Zafiil for a few moments, then said, “You’re like something out of a Scroll, Zafiil Paidiiza. Visions, the incense, meeting the Voice, dreams and all these other things.... I guess you’re not an Other after all.”  She grinned. “Maybe you’re the next FireBorn.”

The words knocked the breath from Zafiil, and the station seemed to spin under her. She grabbed for the counter. “Don’t say such things! I’d never want to be the FireBorn. And I’m not, obviously, but I would never want to be. I pity the Faulfenzair born to that fate.”

Luna waved a hand. “It was a joke! All the Hands of Faulza are Painted, and unless my eyes are broken your fur is a nice, fine black with the normal bits of red and white. But I don’t understand why you feel that way. To be the FireBorn… that’s prestige and honor and fame, enough to fill a lifetime.”

“And responsibility and drudgery and soul-breaking work… no, thank you!”

Zafiil finished cleaning the kitchen in the silence that followed, wondering if she’d said too much, pushed her new friend too far. But then Luna spoke. “Zafiil… if Faulza made us in His image, and we only have two hands, and there have been two FireBorn already... does that make the coming FireBorn His Foot?”

Zafiil stared at Luna, who finished with a satisfied smile and a flutter of her brow ridges. “Just asking, since you talk with Him regularly.”

She started laughing, helplessly, and Luna beamed.