Narissa Meets Daman for the First Time
“You’re not ‘sitting in’ on the meeting, you are the meeting,” said a young man standing in the doorway. “We need to find out about you. What you like, what you need, where you’ll be most comfortable here. I’m Daman.”
He reached out his hand to shake mine. I ignored it. I still felt a little off-balance, and my nerves were completely taking over. I guess near-death experiences can do that to a person. I didn’t want to give myself away by letting anyone feel my hands shaking. I screwed up my courage before opening my mouth.
“Daman, I’m sorry, but Mac is the only one around here who’s earned any of my trust—other than the woman who’s taking care of my shoulder. If you don’t let him stay you might as well cancel your meeting because I won’t be cooperative. And if you do allow him to stay the meeting really needs to start with why I can’t just go home.”
Daman’s hand balled into a fist and fell to his side as I turned to glare at Tafari. I had hoped my glare would cover the panic I could feel taking over, but the look Tafari gave me was so understanding I knew I hadn’t succeeded.
“Settle down, child,” he said with infinite patience. “In the council we are equals. No one voice is heard any louder than another. This meeting is about you. If you are more comfortable having your friend by your side we can put it to a vote when the rest of the council arrives.”
“The council will give you the basic reason why you need to stay,” said Daman, “but only as much as you need to know.”
Tafari cleared his throat to get my attention. “This is my library, I am the book keeper. I am more than a librarian, although that is part of the job. I am also responsible for rebinding the books when necessary. Keeping the books in pristine condition is my priority. This is made infinitely important due to some people’s negligence. Feel free to look around while you wait. We have many ancient and important tomes here.”
Tafari was very tall, and even though he had to be over eighty he didn’t stoop. His white hair and creamy teeth stood out in bright contrast to his deep caramel skin. He looked kind and grandfatherly, but he was arrogant. The way the others were treating him said you didn’t want to see this guy lose his temper.
Tafari struck up a conversation with Mac while we waited for the rest of the council members to get there. Mac looked decidedly uncomfortable, which only reinforced the relief I felt at not having to join in.
I wandered over to the bookcases, staring blankly at the titles embossed on their spines as I concentrated on breathing deeply. Slowly I started working my way around the room, reaching out to brush my fingers against a book here and there as if I were interested in what they were. I had my panic, and the dizziness, mostly under control by the time I realized someone was following me.
I turned quickly, hoping to catch my shadow off-guard. Daman smiled at me, an apology in his eyes. I bristled. Did he really think I needed babysitting?
“How did you get here?” he asked. Nothing like getting right to the point.
“Ask Mac,” I said. “He knows more about it than I do.”
Daman just smiled at my rudeness. He was opening his mouth—to let another question escape, no doubt—so I hurried to ask one of my own. “Are we waiting for many more people?”
I didn’t bother listening to his answer. I wasn’t anxious for the meeting to get started; I was just trying to avoid any questions about myself.
I watched him, hoping he wouldn’t realize I wasn’t listening. He was taller even than Tafari, at least six and a half feet. His thick, wavy hair was almost dark enough to be black, and even though it didn’t reach his jaw it would have made any girl jealous. The only flaw to his face—the only thing really interesting—was an odd, puckered scar just above and to the side of his left eyebrow. He was handsome; the kind of guy most girls would hang all over. And he clearly knew it. I pulled a face in disgust. He stopped, probably mid-sentence, and raised his eyebrows in perfect arches.