A Beautiful Night

Cheno Bellissimo sighed as she packed up her things to leave again. How many times had she been forced to flee? She�d been happy, begun to settle in, make friends . . . she�d been deluding herself. Eventually, they always noticed something . . . different about her. And in Elmnamu�s Capriscia, differences were not to be tolerated. And she was one of the lucky ones! So many other Odds couldn�t hide what they were. She was a half-breed, and physically she was a completely normal human. Except for her eyes . . . but that�s what the reflective goggles were for. She put them back on now, changing into fresh clothes for travelling. Dark. It would make her less noticeable, and she would make less of an impression passing through the small towns on her way up north. She put her mid-length blonde hair into a low ponytail, a single lock escaping; and she pulled the hood of her black cloak down over her face.

Her human mother had been . . . unfit. That�s all the Aunts at the orphanage would tell her. �Your mother was not fit to raise a child. That�s why the Caprisc�n Council gave you to us.� Her only remainder of her past life was the strip of cloth, once her blanket as a baby, now frayed and worn so much she could wear it as an armband. Which she did. She had lived at the orphanage until six months ago, when she turned sixteen and could legally live on her own. They turfed her out to the street, politely, regretfully, but definitely. You are no longer welcome here. This is no longer your home. She wasn�t sorry to leave. Though the Aunts treated her well enough, they whispered behind her back, hushed whispers accompanied by nervous glances. She never listened in consciously, but she caught snatches anyways, words like �Half-human�, �Freak� . . . �Odd�. What did it mean, to be Odd? She�d asked this to one of the older kids, Dervik, years ago.

***

�Odds is people that ain�t people.� The older boy said with a nasty grin, sure in his terrifying story. �They looks different, and they�s dangerous. It�s said they can move things with their minds, control people, do awful things, like . . . magic. They see things no one can see, they hear things no one can hear. Some of them have claws, some have fangs, some of them look just like you or me, but on a moonless night, you hear howls and screams coming from their houses. I heard of this one kid, went up to an Odd on the street, and, well . . . they say you can hear screaming and crying on that street, even though it looks empty. I hear they ain�t even Caprisc�n! Odds is the worst kinda people. If I ever saw one, I�d kill �im! Kill �em all!�

She�d run away from Dervik then, ran to her bunk in the room she shared with nineteen other orphaned girls, between the ages of five and ten. She cried, alone. Was she a member of this terrible race? Was she one of the beasts, the child-killers, the monsters? She looked out the window, to the city that would shun her, and on the wind she heard a voice, floating up from the window below. It was the harsh voice of the Great-Aunt, Lenore.

�What are we to do about that Odd child . . . Cheno?�

�Cheno? She�s an Odd!? She looks so . . . normal!� This was the soft lilting accent of Aunt Shwae, who had arrived recently to the orphanage.

�Well, her father was an Odd. Her mother wasn�t much better. What self-respecting woman would even consort with one of Them, let alone marry? And have children with, Caprice forbid!�

***

They always find out, somehow. She lived quietly, not bothering anyone, making an appearance outside the temple if not inside. But her absence was always noted eventually, and it�s only a matter of weeks before she�d end up looking for a new home.            She�d given up on Caprisc�nism when she learned she was an Odd. For how could she condone a religion that persecutes blindly? Whatever some Odds may have done, she was not a monster. And her mother must have had good reason for marrying an Odd. One doesn�t get into a marriage that most people would look unkindly on, if not for love.

She�d let down her guard, this time. It was a village nearer the coast, farther from the huge centres of organized Caprisc�nism. The people were self-sufficient, cheerful, and she soon found herself opening up to them. She got too relaxed. She made friends with several of the town youth: the adventurous Griff, the kindly Sumea, the poetic Greka, and the dark Tad. Griff and Tad were locals to the town, and the best of friends, despite their differences; Sumea and Greka were travellers, staying at the Inn. When her new friends invited her to the pub, she went along. When they invited her to sing, she did. A hush fell over the crowd, and the room was entranced. When she stopped, the applause was deafening. She was happy, accepted . . . and noticed. By several hostile males. As her group left the pub, giddy from applause and ale, they headed for home, unaware that they were being followed. As they cut through a dark alley on their way back to the Inn, they were surrounded. The gang leered, circling like wolves, hungry for flesh rather than blood. She�d only had to fight for herself once before. The danger lent her courage. �What do you want?�

One stepped forward. He was little older than the group he led, the group he trapped. He had a dreadful sneer on his face. He walked towards her, arrogant, his face an ugly mask of past cruelties. He reached toward her, but then stopped as he saw something. A red glow was emanating from beneath her goggles. �What the . . .?�

� You will not hurt my friends! � Cheno growled in a voice far different from the lovely one she�d been singing with, minutes before. The last time she�d had to fight for herself, the aggressor had been pummelled, lacerated, broken . . . killed. The crisiswrath had taken her over. Her father�s legacy. This time was no different. As her friends looked on, dumbstruck, at the wake of carnage she�d unleashed, Cheno ran.

This was half an hour ago. She knew from experience to keep things ready to go, and it was only a matter of gathering a few personal effects, her money, and taking a quick shower, all the while tensely awaiting the smoky smell of torches and the roar of the mob. Not again. But she�d been working in the Inn for three months, and in that time she�d heard things. She�d heard of islands to the north, where Odds lived normal lives. She�d even heard there were islands that hadn�t heard of Caprice! So that�s where she�d go. Her job paid well, and the money saved from this would last a while. Long enough to find a boat . . .