Relic

XXVI: Aprilus 16 Year 242, A.H.

Elizabet Laine. Those two words make the owner of my Relics come alive, something I didn’t expect. I don’t recall a single Testor ever mentioning the owner of their Relics. Maybe they didn’t find anything linking their artifacts to a particular person, or maybe they thought the artifact itself was more instructive than the person who once owned, used, or even loved the Relic they found. But I cannot ignore the presence of Elizabet Laine in these Relics. She is everywhere.

Ignoring the Scout-Reliquon’s glare, I lean within inches of the four translucent pouches. I know I am taking risks by handling the items and rushing a little, but I don’t care. I must know this Elizabet Laine.

“Caution,” the Scout-Reliquon whispers. He’s not supposed to offer judgment or guidance, only protect the Relics with that single word while the Testors work. Taking a risk, I ignore him. Again.

The second sack contains a smaller open bag patterned in vivid stripes of yellow and pink. I gently shake it, and the smaller bags contents pour out: small tubes and vials and bottles. I notice two brownish-colored bottles have lettering on them—for depression—and a third says for pain. I’ve heard of these pre-Healing diseases before, sicknesses of the soul, but don’t know much about them. I’ll look for those terms in my pre-Healing Histories later, when the Scout-Reliquon takes the Relics away for the night for safekeeping. Then I see the word Prozac on one of the bottles. Instinctively, I drop the sack, horrified. I know that word. Prozac is one of Apple’s most prized and wicked remedies.

Placing the sack down on the mat, I turn my attention to the third pouch. The objects within seem much more recognizable at first. I spot a knife not unlike my ulu, and something that resembles my water pouch, though of an odd material. I see a piece of metal and a rock-like material similar to the objects we use to make fire, as well as a few candles. I catch a glimpse of a circular object with a dial and arrow, kind of like the lodestones we use to tell direction. One item is especially strange to me: a black oblong tube with no purpose I can discern. But otherwise, the items resemble those I might pack to go hunting or out into the wilderness.

I reach for the fourth sack, which holds just one rectangular object. It looks pretty bland at first, until I get really close. Then, I see the words Kirov Ballet inscribed in gold on the cover, and next to it, a tiny lifelike picture of a dancer dressed in teensy scraps of clothing. The girl is nearly naked.

It’s my turn to gasp out loud, and when I do, the Scout-Reliquon rushes to my side. He holds his lamp dangerously near the fourth sack. Before I can make a single move, he carefully lifts up the pink pack and the translucent pouches and slips them into the Relic bag. “I think we’ve had quite enough excitement for today, Testor. You will be permitted to study your Relics again after the dig tomorrow evening.”

And then he leaves my igloo. Leaving me alone with endless questions. Because the nearly naked dancer in that tiny, lifelike picture is Elizabet Laine.