Forest & Kingdom Balance

by Robert Reed Paul Thomas

  Atheria took a moment to balance the risk and reward. Her answer had an equally soft tone. “No, the chance of benefit is slim and the risk is almost certain. The slave master will, rightly, deny any knowledge, the king will apologize to the Red Knight and we’ll all be put to death for nothing.”

  Isabelle smiled, “Will they believe the slave master? Who, the Red Knight? He will only have been here a few hours. The king? The king sees plots against his reign everywhere he looks, he even suspects the plants in his garden.”

  “Why do you think he’s banned ‘plotted pants’ from the palace?” Isabelle added, accentuating the P’s and adding the king’s slight lisp.

  Both Isabelle and Atheria chuckled at the reference to the well-worn joke that’s told in the palace’s back rooms and kitchens. As Isabelle had hoped, that did the trick and the tension between them eased.

  “Yes, the king is not the most honed tool in the craftsman’s chest.” Atheria agreed as her tone once more turned somber. “But the Red Knight is no oaf; we will still be put to death.”

  Isabelle took the teenager’s doubts seriously, “I would agree, if you were to perform it any night hence, but tonight the Red Knight will have nothing to base his judgment on and the palace will be in disarray from his arrival. I don’t believe that our people will suffer greatly as a whole from this, but I do believe that it is the best opportunity since our fall to put a crack in the wall that stands against our freedom.” Isabelle paused. When she began again her voice was filled with sorrow. “I’m afraid that the risk for this opportunity will be borne by you and your sister and brother dancers.”

  Atheria’s face was ashen, “If this is the will of the Elders, then we will obey.”

  Isabelle responded with determination, “No Atheria, this must be our decision. A full meeting of the Elders cannot take place for hours yet. If we wait until then, the opportunity will have passed.”

  “How can we do this without the other Elder’s consent?” Atheria struggled.

  Isabelle answered with a single word. “Time.”

  No more was spoken, the two women so far apart in age but equal in strength, returned to the hallway. Atheria became dizzy and began to shake as the tension took its toll on her. “Can we do this? Should we do this?” She questioned.

  “Yes!” With that one thought, certainty replaced fear and her confidence surged. She walked toward the boy’s sleeping room just as Simon and Brother Joseph emerged. Brother Joseph directed Simon to join Atheria.

  “You’re as white as a ghost.” Atheria noted, “If you drop me tonight I’ll make sure you sing three octaves higher by morning.”

  Simon visibly relaxed, “You haven’t been quick enough to get a good shot at me since your second year, keep dreaming Sparkles.”

  “Are you all right?” Atheria noticed fresh bruising on Simon’s torso.

  “I’m fine.” Simon winced a bit as he stretched but didn’t want to dwell on his injuries. His focus was elsewhere. “The Remembrance Dance? Are they serious?”

  “It makes sense,” Atheria let Simon get a bit ahead of her as they walked to see if his back needed attention, “assuming we all don’t get beheaded in the next few days of course.” Atheria’s attempt at gallows humor fell flat, even to her own ears.

  The doors to both sleeping rooms opened and they were joined by their brother and sister dancers, eighty-two trained performers that spanned the ages of twelve to eighteen headed for the communal washroom and the start of their day. Even to the youngest, they were not children, and never were.

  III

  Raphael’s legs were on fire, each time he felt himself settle into a cruising gate he pressed harder to pick up speed. The palace was little more than four miles from the harbor but its placement on the city’s highest hill made it an uphill run all the way.

  With elevation came wealth. As he ran, the air became cooler, the breeze stronger, and the buildings more opulent. Better pavement urged Raphael to greater speed. “The palace would have heard the message bells from the harbor,” he reminded himself, “make up the delay!”

  He rounded the corner onto a straight stretch that led to the outer palace gates. The avenue was called Ambassador’s Row. It held a compound on either side, and while they were not to the scale of the palace itself, the residences’ unique architecture and extravagant luxury was the palace’s equal.

  Raphael smiled at the irony. There hadn’t been an ambassador on Ambassador’s Row since the fall of the Mindow kingdom. There were no ambassadors because there were no other kingdoms left. He passed the gold inlaid gates and kept his attention ahead.

  “Harbor message for the king’s ears first!” He tried to shout as he reached the outer palace gate, but his voice was mostly ragged breath. Whether from his announcement, or the harbor’s bells, the gate’s inset door swung open as he approached and he entered unchallenged. He then faced the last barrier, the six tiers of gardens that surrounded the palace. Each garden tier having its own winding boulevard that led to ascending steps. He pressed on.

  The beauty of the Garden Tiers renewed his strength. “This is another Mindow legacy that the king enjoys.” He thought. As he ran each level he could see the Mindow tenders and their looks of concern and encouragement. He put aside his pain and concentrated on the stories of the gardens that he had heard the tenders tell in the quarter. Each level’s design, color, and plant types were chosen to portray a different concept of growth in the human experience; the higher the tier, the more lofty the concept.

  As Raphael climbed the last set of stairs, the palace seemed to rise from the top of the steps into a deep blue sky of constantly changing clouds. The waning day’s vibrant pastels painted the steps, palace, and clouds in hues of magenta and orange. He had been here twice before but that did not diminish the breathtaking impact of the sight before him.

  The palace was unique. An asymmetrical collection of domes, spires, and mock battlements played shape against shape, each group growing taller as the eye moved inward and upward. The overall effect was that of a miniature city growing ever skyward in spiral motion.

  The ten-foot tall doors elegantly inlaid with golden spirals stood open with a palace guard to each side. A councilor waited at the threshold. “Move, you lazy Mindow!” He shouted as Raphael neared the entrance.

  Raphael collapsed to his knees as he reached the doorway. “On the harbor master’s authority, a message for the king’s ears first.” He managed to say.

  The councilor stood silent as he glared at the runner with impatience and disgust. He then turned to one of the guards, pointed to Raphael and said, “Bring that.” Without waiting to see if his order was followed the councilor turned and entered the palace.

  Raphael felt a powerful hand grasp his tunic from behind and was lifted sack like to his feet. “Move.” The guard said simply. Thankfully, the guard took most of Raphael’s weight as they proceeded. Suspended by the guard’s firm grip, Raphael entered the palace proper for the first time.

  His circumstances momentarily forgotten, Raphael marveled at the magnificent entry hall. The simple elegance of the seamless marble walls that lead to the ribbed dome above gave the space a sense of soaring expanse. Pedestals offset from the curved walls surrounded the circular room. He had been told of this room and of a time when all the pedestals were filled with likenesses of the greatest Mindow kings and queens.

  Only about a third of the pedestals now held a bust, and those were the line of the Far Lands King. He noted that the craftsmanship of the current busts was not up to the standards of the rest of the room. He hid the briefest of smiles, he had no doubt that the Mindow busts would have been much greater works of art than this sorry lot.

  The councilor seemed to be leading them in circles, which gave Raphael a chance to recover. Through galleries and halls, each more beautiful than the last, Raphael marveled at the wonder of it all. They ascended curved and circular staircases beneath domed ceilings with soaring columns. Everywhere he looked
there were all types of incredible sculptures, artwork and frescos lit by late day light that flooded in from everywhere and nowhere.

  They passed through an antechamber to emerge into the largest hall yet. A circle of massive black stone columns defined the central area and supported the dome overhead, as light reflected up into the dome from its base to fill the central area with soft illumination. The pastel colored floor was a sea of subtle mauves and pinks. Inlaid into the central area of the floor was a thin spiral of gold that lead to the circular dais. Atop the dais, the marble throne held a well-clothed but rather frumpy man who seemed bored with the dozen or so courtiers vying for his attention.

  “That seat looks really uncomfortable.” Raphael thought when he first saw the king upon his throne.

  Rafael had also heard of the magnificent seascape painted on the throne room’s dome, “Don’t look up!” He chided himself, but to no avail, he couldn’t resist. He had a brief glimpse of the aquas and blues as he lifted his head, then he felt the guard’s free hand glance the back of his head. “Keep your head down or you’ll loose it.” The guard’s whispered voice seemed more entreaty than command.

  “Sire!” The counselor who had met Raphael shouted as he pushed past the courtiers, “A message from the harbor master, for your ears first.” Raphael could have sworn that he heard a note of disdain as the counselor spoke the words, ‘for your ears first.’ The throng parted to leave Raphael isolated in front of the king as he dangled from the guard’s hand.

  “Stay on your knees and bow your forehead to the floor before speaking.” The guard whispered.

  Raphael obeyed. Once is forehead had touched the floor he raised slightly and fulfilled his duty. “A message from the harbor master for the king’s ears first. The Red Knight will arrive at the harbor within the hour.” His task completed, Raphael dared to glance up. He wanted to see what response his words had elicited. The looks on their faces left Raphael with a single thought, “It’s too bad that people can’t actually die of fright.”

  It was a moment before the councilor broke the silence, “I will convene the council Sire.” He then addressed the shocked courtiers, “The rest of you go to your duties. I warn each of you to keep your tongues from wagging or I will personally remove them.” He then raised a hand and pointed to Raphael. “That thing was slow, take it to the slave master and have it put to death. Have it be known among the other slaves.”

  Raphael’s world collapsed, his mind retreated as he felt himself recede from his body. “I knew the price I would pay.” He heard the distant echo of a thought from within, “It was worth it.” In some distant dream like way, he felt the guard lift him completely from the floor and carry him out.

  Raphael turned inward to emptiness, he found himself separate from his body and the world around him. He neither noticed, nor cared, when the guard stopped to speak with his fellow guard. “I am on an errand for the High Councilor, please inform the Master at Arms that I will be absent until further notice.” The guard then proceeded toward the garden tiers carrying the lifeless bundle that was Raphael.

  As soon as the guard had descended the first set of stairs to the Sixth Tier garden, he approached a Mindow tender, “Come with me.” The guard said and the three proceeded to an isolated area out of general sight.

  “What is your name?” The guard inquired of the tender.

  “Paul sir,” The tender kept his head bowed.

  “Paul, I am Tressan of the Palace Guard, this runner has been sentenced to death.” Paul’s sorrowed reaction held the despair of inevitability.

  “I will not allow this.” The guard added simply.

  Paul did not respond at first, a lifetime of suffering the inequities of forced service had left him wary. Tre understood, he placed Raphael gently on the ground and turned back to Paul. “I know that this strange to you,” Tre’s voice took on the tone of patient understanding that one would use with an injured friend, “but I ask for your trust. This boy has suffered a shock and he needs our help.”

  Paul nodded as they knelt next to Raphael.

  Raphael’s inner voice whispered, “I put my people first, maybe it will be a quick death.”

  Alone in the desolate world of his thoughts, Raphael noticed a voice in the distance. He didn’t quite comprehend it at first, it kept repeating ‘What is your name? Where do you live?’ It had the tone of the guard’s whisper, but softer. Strangely, he heard his own voice began to speak. “My name?” He heard the familiar voice say, “Raphael, I live on the Street of Sorrows.”

  Tre’s expression softened, “The Street of Sorrows, that’s no surprise.” The thought passed quickly. “Paul, when you are able, please go to the Street of Sorrows, find Raphael’s family and let them know that despite what they may hear, Raphael is well. I will take him beyond Kingsport to a place of safety. Can you do that for him Paul?”

  Tre’s voice projected a quality that instilled trust, but Paul’s response still held sadness, “There are no safe havens for Mindow, north or south,” Paul spoke with the certainty of generations who had tried, “he will be found and the sentence carried out. I thank you Tressan of the Palace Guard, but his fate is sealed.”

  A slight smile came to Tre’s lips, “We will not be going north or south.” He noted the man’s doubtful expression. “I give you my word that he will be safe and cared for. Please do what you can to convince his family.”

  “I will do my best.” A glimmer of hope seemed to rise in the elderly Mindow, “Where can you take him?”

  “I’m sorry Paul, that is best not spoken of. I need you to trust me on this.”

  “I understand,” he guessed at their destination, “many ships come and go from Kingsport. Perhaps the Far Lands across the sea will hold a better life for him.”

  Tre did not correct the tender’s assumption. It was enough that Raphael’s family would know that he is safe. The men’s attention then returned to the motionless figure before them. Tre moved Raphael into a sitting position against a garden wall, his eyes still fixed with a vacant stare into the unknown.

  Raphael felt himself in a dream state. The outside world was a distant concept. He was aware of where his body was, but he was separate, apart from it. He felt, more than heard, the strange words that broke the peaceful silence, “Raphael, can you hear me? Where are we now? Do you know what this garden is called?”

  Raphael didn’t pay much attention until he heard that familiar voice again, the one that sounded like his own. “Sixth Tier, The Garden of Inner Sight.” “Strange”, he thought, “that really does sound like my voice.”

  His duality felt somehow natural. Part of him started to look around, as he noticed all the beautiful shades of indigo and deep blue flowers that surrounded him. Their fragrance gave him a sense of serenity. Slowly, as he looked at the flowers and breathed deeply of their scent, his duality faded. He became aware of himself in the garden and noticed the guard and tender that knelt beside him.

  “I’m ready now,” He spoke with the proud tones of his Mindow heritage. “I will face my death without fear.” His words revealed determination without emotion. “I am ready now.”

  “Good! He’s back.” Tre said, more to himself than to Paul. “Raphael, listen to me,” he looked into the young man’s eyes, “My name is Tre. I know that you are a strong young man and that someday you will face your fate with honor, but your death will not be today. Do you understand me Raphael? We are leaving the city and are going on an adventure together, just you and I. Will you come with me and see all the wonders I have to show you?”

  Raphael’s head tilted slightly to the left, “Adventure?” The feeling of distance persisted but the thoughts of death faded and were replaced by curiosity. “Where are we going?” Before Tre could answer, Raphael’s thoughts turned inward to the strange detachment that defined his very being. “Why do I feel this way?” He asked, more to himself than Tre.

  Tre let out a long breath of relief, “As far as where we’re going, I won
’t ruin the surprise, but I promise you an adventure that will make your spirit soar.” Tre’s smile broadened as he saw life return to Raphael’s eyes.

  “As for why you feel this way,” Tre paused to think of how to put it. “Sometimes, when a person believes that they are about to die but that death does not take place, they go through an inner change. At first there is a feeling of being far away from themselves, once they return, they find that ‘who they were’ no longer exists. The person they used to be suffers the death that their body did not.”

  Tre took Raphael’s hand, helped him to his feet, and steadied him. “From that moment on that person begins a new life, a second life. In a way it is a rebirth into a deeper life, a life of greater understanding.”

  Tre saw a glimmer of recognition in Raphael’s eyes. “This is the beginning of your new life Raphael, some day you will look back on this moment and realize the change you have gone through. For now, it’s enough that you just accept your new life. Can you do that?”

  Raphael looked into Tre’s eyes and felt a depth of communication, of connection that he had never felt before. Warmth and trust filled him. He felt tears falling from his cheeks as he answered, “Yes.”

  “I believe you can.” Tre whispered as he knelt. “What an extraordinary young man.” Tre added to himself, then turned to Paul. “We must go quickly if we are to leave Kingsport safely, thank you for your help Paul. I wish you well.” To continue the charade, Tre picked up Raphael by the back of the tunic and started for the path.

  Paul recited an ancient Mindow blessing as they left, “May Spirit guide your path.”

  “In this time and in all times.” Tre responded to complete the blessing.

  IV

  Warm light and gentle music blended with the murmurs of conversation that filled the Palace Banquet Hall. Guests relaxed with the satisfaction of a meal just ended as dancers and servants circulated among the tables and King’s Dais. Whether entertainer or servant, those of least power moved effortlessly from outer table, to inner, to dais; a feat that the minor nobility lusted for, and the highest fought to keep.