Prologue

LIGHTS FLICKERED on inside the last of the mighty sky-ships. Smoothly, the oval vessel rose into the air, caught the sunlight on its shiny, metallic surface, and then disappeared. The stoic façade of the abandoned people finally shattered. A cry of pain and agony swelled up, a cry that their proud natures would never have permitted them to utter while their so-called masters were present to scorn their torment.

Takarik heard the cry of his people, and his heart ached for them. He let them wail and scream, sounds that he had never before heard any of them make. They were left alone on this place now, with no way to ever return to their homeland.

No way that they had yet thought of, at least.

When at last the deep, mourning sobs had subsided into soft sighs and shuddering whispers, he spoke.

“What a glorious day is now dawning for our people!” Takarik cried, lifting his arms as if to embrace the world upon which they had been stranded. His people stared at him as if he had gone mad. He smiled, and his eyes twinkled. He meant every word.

“Those who believed themselves to be our betters think they have rid themselves of us. After so many years of doing their hard labor, they no longer found us necessary, so they placed us here. And in so doing, they did us a very great favor.”

“Takarik!” called an angry voice. “We have been removed from all we know! We have been callously disposed of, as if we were nothing more than their waste matter!”

“What you say is true, Minkar,” Takarik acknowledged. “But we are not they. We do not have to regard what has happened in the same light as they do. What they have done, I tell you truly, is freed us. The land is rich with fruit and game. We have a small amount of technology that will enable us to build shelters and communicate and find and prepare food. We have our hearts yet, and our keen minds. And we also have this!”

He gestured to a youth standing behind him, holding what seemed to be an innocuous box. It was scratched and dented, but within it … ah, within … Takarik had deliberately hidden it in this shabby box, tucked it away casually with clothes and supplies as if it had no more worth than those ordinary things. It had escaped discovery during a cursory search by a guard who obviously thought handling such tainted things was beneath him.

With a ceremonial flourish, Takarik lifted the lid and withdrew the precious contents. He held it aloft proudly, and heard some murmurs. The gem was as large as his head, and even though it had not been faceted as so many precious stones were, it caught and seemed to hold the very sun. It was almost completely transparent save for its amber tinting like liquid sunlight, and without flaw as far as Takarik could determine.

“That we were able to bring this safely from our homeworld to here, without our captors ever discovering it, tells me that we have a great destiny in this place,” Takarik continued. “Many of you have glimpsed this as you labored for those who deemed themselves superior. But many more of you have never seen it. Oh, you have heard the tales; so have our captors, but as far as they know, they are children’s stories.

“We do not yet know its true value, for we have never been permitted to reveal its existence to others, but its beauty alone inspires us. We took heart in our labors, knowing that it shone for us alone. Our captors never even knew it was there. This gem, this precious jewel, has made the bitter journey with us to symbolize hope.”

Carefully, he replaced the stone in its deceptively nondescript box.

“This place will become our new home, but we will never forget our true heritage. We will thrive here, in a place where we will finally have the opportunity to govern ourselves. We will live in the shelters we build, and eat what we have harvested. We will devote our culture to knowledge and development. We will always remember the Great Stone and its beauty, and know that the gods gave it to us alone. And one day, we will take what is rightfully ours, earned by our labor, our blood, our sweat.”

He looked at their eager, upturned faces. Such hope was another expression he had never seen on visages that were more accustomed to not revealing their emotions at all, lest they suffer for it.

“It will not be in my lifetime. Nor in hers,” he said, pointing to an infant in her mother’s arms. “Nor in her child’s. But one day, I promise, it will happen.

“I swear to you by the beauty of the Great Stone—one day, we will go home.”