Incarnate

walls like guards — and some like guardians — and fraying tapestries hung behind them. Fading images of animals and geothermal features surrounded us.

All ten Councilors were present. They sat on one side of a long table carved of a dozen kinds of wood, with precious metals inlaid in elaborate, flowing patterns. In addition to the Councilors, a man at a desk sat in one corner of the room, tapping on something that might have been a bigger version of an SED.

Meuric rose from the center of the line of Councilors and said, “Dossam. Ana. Welcome.” The others nodded their greetings, and Sine smiled warmly at me. “Please sit, both of you.”

Sam pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit first. I kept my hands in my lap where the Councilors couldn’t see me fidget. They appeared to be of various ages, but they all had that air about them, the same depth in their eyes that Sam had no matter how eighteen he looked.

“We’re here to discuss the terms of Ana’s stay in Heart, and the requirements she must fulfill in order to remain Dossam’s student and guest. In the event neither Dossam nor Ana wish to comply with the Council’s requests, other suitable arrangements will be made.” Something in the way Meuric said that made me think the arrangements wouldn’t be suitable to me. “This is a closed session for now, but the records will be public within the month.”

The announcement hung on the air like a warning. The terms of my stay. Other arrangements. Ugh. I liked Meuric least of all the Councilors, but he was the Speaker. The leader. If he didn’t like me, the others might not either.

From what Sam had explained, Councilors queued up to serve when there was an opening — which only happened when one died — and served the rest of that life. Meuric signed up every lifetime. His constant association with the Council probably made him the most powerful person in Heart.

Sam had also said Meuric believed in Janan. Why would anyone believe in something so fiercely, without any proof?

“So, Ana.” Meuric’s tone shifted. Kinder, maybe, but I still didn’t trust him, or anyone on the Council. They’d voted to keep me out of Heart. “What do you think of Heart so far?”

“It’s lovely.” My throat itched from nerves, and I wished we’d brought water. But then I’d probably drink it all at once and have to pee for the rest of the meeting. “Very big.”

Sam took the chair beside me and nudged my leg. I couldn’t interpret what he wanted, so I ignored it. He probably didn’t want me to mention the thing with the walls and temple. Not that I’d been about to.

“We haven’t had much time to look around yet,” Sam said, leaning toward the table, “but we’re already planning piano lessons, and Stef has offered her services as well.”

Oh, right. I tried to appear pleasant, like he’d suggested. “This morning we made appointments with a bunch of people. Armande is going to teach me how to bake next week.”

“That’s wonderful. You should come visit me, too. If you’re studying music with Sam, you might enjoy poetry also.” Sine spread her hands on the table. Wrinkles crisscrossed her flesh and veins; she looked so old and fragile.

My eyes were liars. In truth, Sine and Sam were the same age.

That thought made my head hurt, but I managed to nod when Sam tapped my foot with his. “Sounds great,” I gasped. “Thank you.”

I couldn’t imagine Sam any way other than how he was now, no matter how hard I tried. None of the books I’d seen had sketches or photos of him, and the video I’d seen had mostly been his back. And blurry, besides. Would I recognize him if I saw a clear photograph?

Stef’s description of the dedication ceremony made me shiver again. How could anyone continue like that, risking not recognizing the person they loved? How could they look in the mirror and recognize themselves? I looked like me. Sam looked like Sam.

I was wearing a dress Sam had worn in another life. And his sweater.

Someone across the table leaned over and muttered to her neighbor. Both eyed me like they thought I might vomit.

“Ana, are you okay?” Sam touched my shoulder.

I blinked. Nodded. He was counting on me. “Sorry.”

“This has been a big transition for her,” he explained to the Council. “We’ve been here less than a day and already people are gossiping about her. This is a huge transition for her.”

“Of course.” Sine smiled, like she had any clue what I was going through, but the other Councilors all looked at me queerly.

One by one, they introduced themselves; I’d heard of most of them before, and remembered Antha and Frase from yesterday. Deborl’s name was familiar, but I didn’t know much about him. Like Meuric, he looked younger than me.

I tried to focus while Sam outlined our arrangements with teachers, but I felt as though walls inside me were crumbling. Confined to Purple Rose Cottage and the surrounding forest my whole life, it had been easy to know that Heart was filled with people so old I couldn’t comprehend. But I’d never been faced with the evidence so clearly until now. Their lives and histories were so much bigger than me.

Before meeting Sam, when he was a name in a book, I’d thought it wouldn’t matter what he — she? — looked like, that I’d feel the same way no matter what. And maybe I would. But also, there was so much that was physical about him — hands, hair, eyes, voice, scent — that made him attractive. I’d felt something before, perhaps merely a reaction to his music or the way he wrote about it, and that was still inside me. But I craved his physical presence. This Sam. These hands, hair, eyes, voice, and scent. Another incarnation of Sam wouldn’t be the same.

That was probably the point of the souls ceremony. Maybe the physical shouldn’t matter.

I wished I could stop thinking about having seen the grave of Sam’s first body. There was probably nothing in there by now. It was probably dust.

I shuddered out of my thoughts as the subject changed.

“I’d like to discuss Ana’s library privileges.” Sam rested his hands on the table. He didn’t look ancient or decayed. When his shoe bumped mine, he felt real and alive. “If she’s to have a complete education, she needs unrestricted access to the library.”

“There are books someone so young shouldn’t have access to,” said Meuric. “I’m sure Ana is very responsible, but knowing how to build a catapult isn’t a necessary skill for her.”

“Learning how to build weapons isn’t one of my goals.”

“What is your goal, then?” Deborl asked.

I glanced at Sam, who gave a minute shrug. “I was hoping to find out where I came from.” And whether I would be reborn, but I didn’t want these strangers to know my secret fear. “I realize wiser minds have most likely already looked, and I doubt I’ll discover anything new, but actively searching for an answer would bring a lot of comfort.”

Sine nodded. “I imagine it’s very lonely being the only newsoul in the entire world.”

Especially when she put it like that. “It is.” I pretended not to notice Sam’s foot against mine. “I’d like to know what happened, to see if there’s a chance it could happen again.” Maybe the existence of another newsoul would make me feel less like a mistake, less alone.

Antha crossed her arms and leaned back. “The last time, we lost Ciana. I can’t say I’m eager for it to happen again.”

I swallowed hard. “I don’t want to lose anyone, either.”

“As long as it doesn’t take away from her studies,” Frase said, “I don’t see how looking into her origins could hurt. However, I do think someone should be there to supervise her time in the library. Dossam, or someone else we can all agree on. As Meuric said, there’s simply too much in the library that could be dangerous, not just to Ana, but to everyone if she isn’t careful.”

“I’ll be careful.”

“I’ll accompany her as often as possible,” Sam said. “She’s my student.”

Sine raised a hand. “When Sam can’t, I will join Ana. After all, Sam has other work.”

“Orrin and Whit spend half their lives in the library,” said another Councilor, whose name I’d forgotten. “I think it’s safe to assume there will always be someone to supervise Ana’s studies.”

“Does this sound reasonable to everyone?” Meuric checked everyone’s faces, then gave a quick nod. “Very