Farm 22, the library, questions…
The last class had left the classroom. Sarita had finished straightening up after them. She accessed the comnet and began researching Megal Morales. If she was to bond with this man — and that looked likely, according to her mother — she wanted to know as much as she could about him. She had spent hours studying the culture and history of Refugio. Papa Kearney had assigned her research projects when she finished her final examinations. She could not go on to the University until she was bonded, and since that didn’t seem to be happening, he kept her busy with the research. Each farm handled its own trade and since Farm Twenty-Two was so close to the Trade City, it was to Simon’s advantage to know what kinds of goods the residents of Refugio wanted. The cheeses from their current assignment were easy to ship, so they had a nice trade with the city once they learned how to make the cheese.
Sarita was surprised to find very little in the Refugio comnet about Megal. There were announcements concerning the death of his older brother and speculation on why it had happened. There were short pieces about how Megal had not lived in the palace in Ciudad Centro, but instead with his mother’s family. Finally, after several searches, she found pictures.
Sarita sat and stared. This was not at all what she expected. The picture had been taken at the memorial service for his brother. The caption said the man to the right of the Overlord would be the new First Successor. If the man in the center was his father, the Overlord, then Megal was not a burly man. He was tall and slender. His father was a large man compared to the other men in the picture and perhaps that made Megal look smaller, but his height was what surprised her most. She thought he might be as tall as she was. Finally, there was a color close-up of Megal. He had the most beautiful eyes. They were brown but with hints of green, rimmed in black lashes. His skin had a bronzed tone like most of his people, and his hair was black with almost an oil-slick gloss to it like her own. His beard was shorter than those of the older men, but neatly trimmed. He was not the most attractive of men, but healthy looking. Sarita smiled. Not too bad. Not bad at all.
She studied the face, committing it to memory. She knew a few things now; where he had grown up, who his family was, but the most important things to her, did he read, if he enjoyed a good argument. Could he fight? Did he like to spar with staves or a martial arts workout? And most important, would he be her amancara? These were still unknown.
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