Sister Lost, Sister Found.

Jeanne G'Fellers.

Rankil is marked for life a destined for abuse and neglect at the hands of the Autlach. In her world, the worst that can happen to a Taelach child is not death a but life itself.And even though sister Taelachs constantly search for the younger Taelach children, Rankil is so far yet undiscovered.

Join Rankil on her journey to find a home where she is welcomed and where love is at least a possibility in this long a awaited sequel to No Sister of Mine.

Archell turned, folding his legs so he could face Rankil. His eyes were clenched shut, contorted with the effort of speaking clear, unrhyming sentences. "They burned them," he sputtered. "They piled wood underneath the wagon and set it ablaze in the middle of the square. No one cried or screamed, not even the babies, just sat curled in each other's arms like they were asleep and burned. The air stunk, smelled like the smokehouse at butchering time. Now see ... see ..." His bottom lip quivered.

Rankil grappled for something to say. "Burned them? Babies with the adults? Why, Archell, why? What did they do? What could they have done to deserve burning?"

Archell pointed to her, his answer as senseless as the act he had witnessed. "They called them witches and cannibals. Whitehairs. They died because they were what you are, Rankil Danston. Taelach."

For my mother, who let me prowl the library shelves as a child so I might know the value of books.

Acknowledgments.

Sister Lost Sister Found and all the novels in The Silver Kinship series derived from my need to escape. While my reasons for escaping have changed throughout the years, the need still remains as does the drive to tell the stories of those I met during my escapes. These women live in a plane I reach simply by closing my eyes. Theirs is a less than perfect existence-perfection must be horribly boring to write about-but it is a world built upon my wildest fantasies and deepest fears, a creation that would not have come about if it hadn't been for those dear to me. My sister Anne G'Fellers is no exception to this. Though we may be far apart in age we are kindred spirits, sister writers who both love to go where our imaginations dare. Her determination as a writer and actress inspires her big sister more than she will ever know.

To everyone at Bella-Linda Hill, Becky Arbogast and, of course, my editor Anna Chinappi, I say thanks again for patiently leading me through the road to publication.

Anna, my love, my dearest, once again I have left you for last but only because it is difficult to put into words the impact you have had on my life. You listen, you appreciate, you care and you're not afraid to tell me when I am full of it-all things a writer needs in her significant other. Without your honesty and assistance I might not have reached where I am today. Thank you.

About the Author.

Jeanne G'Fellers, her partner and their children share a half-acre plot with two cats, a three-foot-long water dragon lizard and a dozen pampered Arbor Day trees. When not shuttling children or writing, Jeanne is completing her MA in English at a regional university where she also works as a teaching assistant.

Sister Lost Sister Found is Jeanne's second novel and the second in the Silver Kinship series.

Cast of Characters.

Taelachs.

Clanless.

Rankil Kaelan Danston: misplaced sister, daughter of Danston Maraloosh Easton Outbrook: misplaced sister and resident of The Pit Serpent Clan.

Recca July: clan leader and mate of Ashklara Ashklara Reccas: Recca's mate and former clan birther Wikkib Indigo: assistant clan birther Larkette Jasmine: teacher of youth Kaelan London: potter and glassblower, mate of Jewel Jewel Kaelans: clan birther, mate of Kaelan.

Myrla Kaelan: daughter of Kaelan and Jewel Hestralandra (Hestra): infant Leonor Dakota: aging warrior.

Tekkroon Clan Harlis Davies: clan leader Grethencliff Colony.

Medrabbi: colony mayor and mate of Elreese Elreese Medrabbi: skin inker and mate of Medrabbi Larza: apprentice skin inker under Elreese.

Jefflynn Lewis: Tekkroon lead well master, twin sister of Serrick Lewis and mate of Dawn Dawn Jefflynns: sculptor and mate of Jefflynn Abbyegale Finces: seamstress and widow.

Webbic: widow Healer Augustus: Gretchencliff lead healer Dee Astrid: Easton Outbrook's attendant Bowriver Colony Maestro Lisajohn Marion: lead musician and choral director for Bowriver colony Commander Andrea Stiles: Powder Barrier officer in charge of recruit indoctrination, mate of Annya Annyalae Stiles: manager of Bowriver colony stores and mate of Andrea Adner Colony.

Genevic Leed: Powder Barrier trooper and girlfriend of Isabella Langley Isabella Langley (Bella): medic in isolation caverns and Genevic's girlfriend Beverlic Redicci: former Powder Barrier Trooper and resident of The Pit McDougal Colony.

Healer Sarah Garrziko: mental healer in charge of The Pit Shaedra: Burning victim and resident of The Pit Autlachs Maraloosh Family: small, two-house farming compound.

Danston Maraloosh: head of first house, brother of Tisph Meelsa Danstons: wife of Danston Tessa Danston (Tessie): eldest daughter of Danston and Meelsa Sallnox Danston: eldest son of Danston and Meelsa.

Tisph Maraloosh: head of second house, brother of Danston Quyley Tisphs: wife of Tisph Tilnor Tisph: eldest son of Tisph and Quyley Archell Tisph (later becomes Archell Kaelan): second son of Tisph and Quyley Eloc Tisph: third son of Tisph and Quyley Granny Terry: great grandmother of Danston and Tisph Others Serrick Lewis: Autlach living with Tekkroon clan, brother of Jefflynn Lewis Longpass: High cleric in the Raskhallak temples Sharillia Longpass: wife of Longpass Olitti Longpass: eldest daughter of Longpass Paylu Longpass: oldest son of Longpass Flynne Longpass: second son of Longpass.

Humans.

Captain Tara Conway: pilot of downed spacecraft discovered by Rankil Danston.

Preface.

When the first human colonists settled on the Saria Two, they didn't intend on being permanent residents. But, as time passed and hope of rescue faded, they began to make homes for themselves among the Autlach, a humanoid species indigenous to Saria Two, the second planet surrounding the yellow star Sixty-One Cygni. The Autlach, a swarthy humanoid species of stocky build, were slow to accept their multiracial human counterparts but eventually allowed them into their lands, villages and, finally, families, creating a hybrid generation whose descendents understood little of their human heritage and the genetics which shaped a select few of their children. These daughters-the Taelach-were pale, blue-eyed, sterile and telepathic-all things the pious Autlach could not and would not accept. Rejected by their families, the Taelach sought acceptance in each other, forming small clans that kept to the mountains far above the Autlach.

These clans survived for centuries relatively untouched, descending into the realm of the Autlach only for trade and to save infant Taelachs from the cruelty of infanticide. This relative peace changed, however, when Longpass, a high cleric in the Autlach deity Raskhallak's temple, claimed to hear the voice of Raskhallak speak against the Taelach. Raskhallak, said Longpass, claimed the Taelach were sinful beings-witches, whores, and half-women whose only hope of redemption was cleansing by fire. The resulting crusade forced the Taelach clans higher into the mountains. In this harsh, barren environment, Taelach numbers dwindled but persisted, maintaining their culture through stories and songs that sought to explain their origins, rationalize their continued struggle, and keep hope alive when little else seemed tangible.

This is the tale of one such sister, a Taelach born between two worlds, one that abhors her very existence, the other that fears what she has become to survive. This is the first tale of Rankil, a sister lost, a sister found, but a sister never to be forgotten.

Introduction.

A Creation Story from the Serpent Clan teaching tales.

The Mother Maker grew lonely in her singular existence and longed for a family. There being no male she dared leave the heavens for and no magical means by which she could conceive, the Mother Maker began to cry, the tears landing in her hands as glass seeds. She placed each of these seeds in the bodies of Autlach women and from these women and the descendents of these women, Taelachs were born. The Mother Maker delighted in her creations and granted them the gifts of empathy and telepathy. These skills, along with the Taelach's diametric appearance to the Autlach, took their toll, and the Mother Maker soon found her daughters ostracized by their Autlach kin. Taelach infants were slaughtered in the name the Raskhallak deity, and the ones who did survive to adulthood were either enslaved or driven high into the mountains in order to survive. Fearing for her children, the Mother Maker took pity on her delicate, pale-skinned daughters, creating a physically stronger daughter, a broadback daughter to assist and love the gentler form of her creation. But, in return for her gifts, she expected her daughters to obey a single request: They were to respect nature and all things wild, including their enemies. They were to love the barbaric Autlach and try to be at peace with them.

Some things are easier said than done.

Part I.

Aware.

Chapter One.

We lash out at that which we don't understand.

-Taelach wisdom.

They named her Rankil, odd enough name but one she rarely heard. More often, they called her Ugly, Stupid, or simply Rank, like her smell offended them. She answered to any of them because they all meant the same. They wanted her to do things no one else would-clean, lift, carry things far heavier than any child should. Of their blood, she served them as a slave and nothing more, the middle child of the family, a mark of sin on their otherwise prominent position within the isolated farming community they called home. She bore their anger, suffered as the vent point for their frustrations. Rankil was light among the dark, too tall and skinny to be one of them, physical evidence of the long-forgotten human influence on their planet-a Taelach child in an Autlach world.

Whack! The sweeper handle landed square on Rankil's lower back, sending her sprawling to the floor.

"Stupid girl. I taught you to brush the floors better than this. You won't be lazy, Rank. Earn your keep if you expect to eat today." Rankil's mother Meelsa raised the sweeper handle for another blow. Fifteen-pass-old Rankil, in a dirty dress and bare feet, cowered, unsure what she had done wrong.

"You see this?" Meelsa pulled her to the front door and shoved her face first into the space behind it. "See the dirt? You sweep behind the doors. How many times must I tell you?"

"Too many?" The answer earned Rankil another blow. The question must have been one of the many her mother asked that expected no answer.

"Bite your tongue." Rankil cringed as the handle rose again but, instead of another blow, Meelsa handed the sweeper to her eldest daughter Tessa, who'd been watching her snow-headed sister's abuse with unbridled amusement. "Here, Tessie, do M'ma a favor and brush the floor proper. I've another chore for Rank."

Contempt exuded from Tessa's brown eyes as she narrowed them at Rankil. Tessa's friends routinely teased her for the resemblance she bore to the family's slave and the outgoing Tessa blamed Rankil for the taunts. "Why do I always end up fixing her messes? She forgot the door. Let her sweep!"

Meelsa's graying braid swayed with the rhythm of her shaking head. "I'm sending Rankil to gather cress for tonight's sup. It's high season, and your dah wants some. She'll go, unless you'd rather climb for it." Rankil's heart soared. She loved going cress gathering. No one bothered her in the hills. She could laugh and play, be happy, be Rankil.

"Ugh!" Tessa rolled her eyes at the thought of harvesting the stone-clinging, crevice-growing plant. "I'll tend the floor and then work on my dress. I've all but finished tatting the collar lace. Jin says fancy collars bring out my eyes."

"Jin would," mumbled Meelsa, all too familiar with the ideas driving the young man's flattery. "The dress and Jinwall Mustin can wait. Sweep more and talk less, Tessa. Your dah wants his house clean." Meelsa grabbed a carry sling from the hooks and tossed it to Rankil who nursed her stinging back. "Don't you bring back any over-big leaves. You know what size they need to be. Danston will beat you if his greens are bitter again."

"Yes ma'am." Rankil scrambled to her feet, snagged her wide-brimmed sunshade from the hooks and ran out the door. If she found a good patch, cress gathering wouldn't take more than an hour or two, leaving her time to roam. She could ask for a slice of bread to eat while she worked. Meelsa would probably give her that, but she knew she'd do better foraging in the hills. She should have her fill of cress up there as well. There would be none for her that evening.

So, her stomach twittering, Rankil trotted across the courtyard, past her uncle's family's cottage. Uncle Tisph had eight children of his own, six of them boys, each more inventive than the next in the cruelty they demonstrated for Rankil. As mean as they were, she still preferred them to her uncle. Tisph always looked at her funny. He never acted mean in a hitting way, just the opposite. He would be too nice, his hand quick to pat her behind or run a path across her chest. He'd even kissed her once, a sucking, full-mouth kiss like her father gave her mother. Rankil wouldn't have liked it even if Meelsa hadn't caught them at it. She had been so furious with Rankil that she had beaten her all the way back to the house, swearing something about birthing a white witch with whorish wiles as they went. What were wiles anyway? Rankil knew what a witch was, she'd been called one enough times, and she knew the word whore meant something bad too, but she had never heard the last word before then. The next day she'd asked Tessa to explain, but her sister had said it'd been her own fault Tisph had kissed her. This only furthered Rankil's confusion. No one ever showed her affection, then when someone did it was wrong? She pondered that fact for a while, deciding she would do best just to keep away from Uncle Tisph. His touch made her feel sort of sick inside and besides, she didn't want another beating-there were plenty of those as was. Time made her quite adept at staying clear of him in almost every situation and in the presence of others when she had to be near him.

Keeping close to the garden to avoid attention, Rankil had almost cleared the compound gates when her Aunt Quyley, Tisph's perpetually pregnant, quarrelsome wife shouted to her from beside the garden shed.

"Rankil!" Quyley's voice had become gruff from screaming at her children. "Come here, girl!"

"Yes, ma'am." Rankil took a few more steps before she slowed to a stop, afraid she'd end up gathering for her greedy cousins as well as her own family. "I've been sent picking."

"Good!" bellowed her aunt, pushing the woven shade from her round, sweating face. "Take Archell with you. He's getting on my nerves."

Archell? It could have been worse. If anyone had to tag along, Rankil preferred it be Archell. Everyone else considered him simpleminded, but she knew better. Archell had a unique way of looking at things. He lived in his own version of reality, one far removed from the pain of this one. If Rankil had one friend in the world, it was seventeen-pass-old Archell.

"Yes, ma'am. Where is he?"

Quyley swiped her nose on her blouse cuff. "Are you stupid, ugly, and deaf, girl? Can't you hear his singing? He's in the barn combing down them nassies. Swears they like his voice. Go get him and make him help."

The barn!

Rankil began to shake, her knees knocking so loud she knew her aunt could hear them. The barn was her uncle's favorite escape from his noisy family. If she were lucky, he wouldn't be there.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll get him now." Rankil turned toward the building's open bay doors, her feet pushing up little dust clouds as they dragged along the ground. She peeked around the corner then drew back, her whisper almost inaudible above the nassies' greeting shuffles and snorts.

"Archie?"

His answer came as it always did, in song or rhyme. "Oh my my pretty Rankil-too tall girl with the skinny ankles-Archell sees you from nassie Blue's bright stall." Blue's stall stood third on the right. Rankil slid into it and gave the curly-coated gray work nassie a pat of reassurance.

"Want to pick cress with me?"

Archell shook his great unkempt mop of black hair. "Brush, brush nassie Blue-will not quit until I'm through."

Rankil grabbed the brush from his hand and placed it on the top stall board. "Blue looks good enough. Come on. Your m'ma says you can go with me."

Her cousin smiled as she took his stubby hand. He was no taller than her, but stood twice as broad in the shoulder and was capable of strength he wasn't always able to control. "Where to, Rankil dankle?"

"I just told you, silly, cress picking."

Archell's hand dropped faster than his expression, both withdrawing from her with the same hurt reaction. "Archie not silly willy, Rankil dankle." She sometimes forgot he suffered as many insults as she did.

"I'm sorry." Rankil glanced down the stall row. The nassies, with their tri-toed hooves and short tangled fur, were far too quiet for her liking. "I'm just in a hurry. You know I don't like the barn."

With a sullen draw of his lip, Archell turned her face to his. "Archell knows what Rankil fears-dah's big hands will get too near." She'd never told him, but he knew. He always knew what went through her head.

"Yeah, Archie, that's why I hate the barn. Can we go?" She tugged him from the stall and toward the open back entrance.