The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky

by David Litwack

  Carlson stepped out, followed by six burly policemen who formed a semicircle behind him, and waved the warrant. “Here it is, Sebastian, signed and sealed. Now I trust you’ll cooperate and take us to the girl.”

  Sebastian blocked his path. “She’ll need a few hours to get ready.”

  Carlson signaled to the policemen.

  Sebastian called his bluff. “What are you going to do? Beat up an old man?”

  Carlson ignored him. Two officers came forward, forming a wall while Carlson and the others passed around.

  Sebastian tried to pry between them but it was like moving mountains. He sighed and stepped aside.

  As the officers began to round the corner of the great house, Benjamin appeared leading seven young men with rakes and axes. They might’ve been a work detail but for their grim demeanor and the way they carried their tools, high up and threatening.

  The lead policeman started toward them, but Carlson stepped in front and held up a hand. He turned to Sebastian, his brows asking the question.

  Sebastian shrugged as if to say, “None of my doing.”

  Carlson glared at him. “I don’t want trouble.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “Then in the name of reason, tell them to get out of the way.”

  Sebastian read the determination on Benjamin’s face, a look he’d never seen before. His loyal assistant had disobeyed him only once. He suspected this would be the second time. “Let these officers pass, Benjamin. They have proper authorization.”

  The seven men fidgeted and shifted the farm implements from hand to hand, but not a one backed down.

  Sebastian turned to the police detail. “Please, Mr. Carlson. No violence.”

  He watched the determination on Carlson’s face evaporate. They stared at each other, mirror images, the same helpless look on both faces. After a minute, the chief examiner waved the officers back into their cruisers and they departed.

  ***

  “If only I had more time, Mr. Secretary,” Carlson pleaded into his communicator, the prior day’s humiliation still fresh in his mind. “I know I can—”

  “Time’s not our friend, Carlson. You don’t seem to appreciate the urgency of the situation.”

  “Perhaps, Mr. Secretary, if you shared more details about what’s going on—”

  “Enough! You don’t have a need to know. Your job is to—” He was cut short by muffled voices in the background, as if someone had placed a hand over the transmitter. “Hold, Carlson. I have an incoming call from the President.”

  There was a click on the secure comm link, then music like something Carlson once heard in an elevator. He stretched the communicator as far from his ear as possible.

  Following yesterday’s confrontation, the secretary had rushed up a van full of field agents—the ones who dealt with terrorists, wore body armor, and carried automatic weapons. They arrived in the Northern Kingdom early Thursday morning. Carlson had urged them to keep a low profile, to stay out of sight and not incite the residents further, so they surveyed the farm from a distance, keeping watch through binoculars. They brought maps of the surrounding area, held meetings, and made marks on their maps.

  He’d watched with horror as the planning progressed, exactly what he’d tried to avoid—taking Kailani by force. He imagined the frightened child being dragged from Helena’s arms. The only chance to stop it was to plead his case to the secretary.

  A second click. “Still there, Carlson? The heat is on. The President wants her turned over now. I have no choice but to—”

  “But the girl!” Carlson brought the phone closer and gripped it so tightly his hand shook.

  “Of course we’ll do everything possible to protect the girl. She’s the point of all this, but my men tell me there’s been an influx of hooligans to the farm. We can’t take any chances.”

  Carlson squeezed his eyes shut. The secretary was a political appointee, not a career professional. He’d lack sensitivity to the subtleties of the situation, focusing instead on the political ramifications. Carlson had never negotiated with someone so high up, but for Kailani’s sake, he’d give it a try.

  “If we act rashly, Mr. Secretary, the situation could easily escalate, causing an incident that might embarrass the President. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that.” He paused, letting the thought sink in. “I know the people involved. I can work with the managing director of the farm. If we give them time to think it over, this can be resolved peacefully. “

  “What about the hooligans?”

  “They’re not hooligans, Mr. Secretary, just overeager young men trying to protect the girl. Our initial approach alarmed them and they overreacted.”

  Silence on the line. Carlson could hear asthmatic breathing on the other end. He waited.

  “Very well, but you’d better not be screwing with me. You had a solid record before you messed up identifying the girl. I’ve always believed in trusting the man on the ground. I’ll trust you... for now.”

  Carlson finally dared exhale.

  The secretary wasn’t finished. “Understand, my trust isn’t open-ended. It’s now Thursday, 6 p.m. Have her in department custody by Sunday noon. After that, we do it my way.”

  Click.

  No further discussion. No music. The secure line had gone dead.

  ***

  The day after Carlson had served the warrant was quiet, if Sebastian ignored the men in the trees who watched from a distance.

  Then an influx of Benjamin’s friends invaded. He’d permitted a few to enter as guests of the farm, but as their numbers increased, he tried to turn them away. There was no stopping them, as tents popped up on town conservation land to the east of the farm. They were within their rights. Besides, what could he do about it? Call the police?

  The newcomers stood around and watched the men in the trees, who watched them back. It stirred memories that caused a tightening in his gut. He’d lived this scene before—a military encampment preparing for battle.

  Friday morning, the situation worsened.

  On his way to the office, he encountered a group of eight strangers, some carrying farm implements and others sports equipment—sticks and bats, anything that was hard and could be swung with force. The ragtag band seemed to be marching in a pattern, full of purpose.

  “May I ask who you are and what you’re doing on my farm?”

  They stopped and shuffled their feet. The tallest, a gangly young man with a prominent Adam’s apple, took a step forward. “We’re a security patrol. Benjamin assigned us the eight-to-eleven shift.”

  “What eight-to-eleven shift?”

  “Eight to eleven in the morning, eight to eleven at night.”

  “We drew lots,” a second one said. “We’re the lucky ones. Everyone else has to get up in the middle of the night.”

  “But why?”

  They answered in a chorus. “To protect the Daughter.”

  ***

  As Helena led Kailani by the hand to breakfast—she always held her hand now whenever they were outdoors—she encountered a group of men marching in pairs from the great house to the barn.

  When they caught sight of Kailani, they paused. Whispers passed among them with only two words audible: the Daughter. After a few seconds, they recovered their composure and made small, almost comical bows, then stepped off more smartly.

  “Why are those men carrying rakes like that on their shoulders?” Kailani said.

  “Just a work group to help clean up the farm.”

  “But what about the others, the ones carrying sticks?”

  “Those aren’t sticks. They’re sports equipment like the kind you saw at Hal’s.”

  “But what are they for?”

  “To play games.”

  “And what do they do with them in the games?”

  Helena wished Jason were there to take the next question. “They’re used to hit balls.”

  “Why are they carrying them now?”

  A deep sigh. There
was no getting around it. “They’re patrols Mr. Benjamin set up to keep you safe, to protect you from those men outside the gates.”

  “The men trying to hide in trees?”

  “That’s right.”

  Kailani looked down and began digging a little hole in the dirt with the tip of her shoe. “But why are the ones on the farm carrying equipment used to hit balls?”

  “In case the people in the trees come inside.”

  “But what do sticks have to do with—”

  Her ocean-blue eyes widened, and her mouth stayed open, unable to complete the thought. When Helena had no response, she yanked her hand away and dashed back to her cabin.

  Chapter 35 – Allies

  It was hard to get away unnoticed, so Sebastian invented an excuse, telling everyone he was feeling ill and would be having dinner in his cabin. After a member of the kitchen crew brought food, and while most people were still at the barn, he put on his leather work boots and the parka with the fur-edged hood. Bundled up like that, he’d be hard to recognize in the dark. He considered bringing his walking staff, which might prove useful on this trek, but he decided against it—too distinctive a marker.

  He snuck a look out the door to see if anyone was nearby, then stepped off down the path. At the statue of Grandmother Storyteller, he paused to adjust his clothing. He yanked the zipper of his parka higher so it nearly pinched the loose skin beneath his chin, and pulled his gloves tighter to make his wrists stop burning from the cold.

  He jerked around as the sense of someone watching overwhelmed him. No one there. Just Grandmother Storyteller staring at him with her laughing eyes. A beautiful piece. He recalled Serena when she first came to the farm, the hole in her heart bare for all to see. He flashed a smile that mimicked Grandmother Storyteller’s. All things of grace and beauty have their birth in pain.

  The farm would have to survive.

  Few residents knew the farm as he did. They came and went, but he remained, along with the old temple bell, the statues and the golden eagles, the constants of the farm. At the back of the pool, he shoved aside the branches of an overgrown bush and entered a back trail long unused, one Benjamin had stopped maintaining years before.

  He tramped ahead across slush and frozen leaves and over an occasional downed tree, until he tripped on a twig, snapping it with a crack. He was able to keep himself upright only by grabbing a nearby sapling. He frowned, and his mouth inside the fur hood was set grimly. Foolish old man out alone in the dark; could’ve broken a hip and frozen to death.

  Nearby, an owl flapped out of a tree, hooting its displeasure at being disturbed, leaving the bare treetop vibrating in the cold. The noise made him glance around at the world he would soon leave. He peered up at snatches of sky peeking through the branches and down at the ground sprinkled with frost. Then he watched the owl, following it until it flapped its way to the horizon and beyond.

  A long time since he’d been down this trail, and in the intervening years his bones had become more brittle. Should’ve brought the staff. He proceeded now with more caution, stooping low to see the ground in the dim light, uncertain of each step. Maybe it was the cold, or maybe the circumstance.

  At last, he came to the work road that ran along the adjoining horse farm. Fifty yards ahead, he could make out the outline of the chief examiner’s sedan. As he emerged from the woods, the car door opened.

  “I was worried you wouldn’t come,” Carlson said.

  “I’m a little slower than I used to be.”

  “You look frozen. Come inside.”

  The car was cold. Carlson must’ve kept the engine off for fear of being discovered. At least Sebastian was out of the wind, and if they stayed long enough, their body heat would add a few degrees.

  The cloud cover cleared just long enough for a moonbeam to pass through the windscreen and fall across the chief examiner’s face. When Sebastian first met him, he’d violated one of his cardinal rules, becoming angry at the situation and blaming the man. Now, he remembered Carlson’s concern for Kailani and his reluctance to enforce the warrant. He may have misjudged him.

  Carlson watched him shiver. “Should I turn on the engine?”

  “No. Too risky.”

  “Better than getting pneumonia.”

  “I’ll be okay.”

  Carlson fumbled with his briefcase, pulled out a quart-sized thermos and tilted it toward Sebastian. “Hot chocolate?”

  “Thank you. That was thoughtful of you.”

  Carlson unscrewed the top and poured, peering over the plastic cup to check the level in the dim light. It made his bifocals steam.

  Sebastian accepted the cup with both hands and sniffed the hot drink, recalling another night in a field long ago just prior to battle.

  After securing the cover and tucking the thermos back into his briefcase, Carlson pulled out a woolen blanket, which he unfolded and laid over Sebastian’s knees.

  Sebastian pulled it to his chin and looked at the official from the department with fresh eyes. “Very thoughtful.” He took two sips before speaking, placing an appropriate interval between manners and business. “Now, what can we do about this mess?”

  Carlson glanced out the window as if checking for intruders, but more likely searching for words. When he spoke, his voice sounded pained. “When we first met, you said a bureaucrat like me could never understand what you do here. It made me angry and I misbehaved. I apologize. It’s important to me that you know I care about Kailani. I’m the one who arranged for her to come to the farm.”

  He paused, waiting for a response. Sebastian nodded, but it didn’t seem to satisfy him.

  “I have... a daughter of my own,” he said, his voice more urgent. “You have to believe I wouldn’t wish Kailani harm.”

  “If that’s true, we can be allies, because we want the same thing.”

  “It’s true,” the chief examiner said. “But it’s important to me that you believe it.”

  Sebastian weighed his thoughts before replying. “I believe you.” When the ensuing silence grew awkward, he added, “So what can we do to rescue her?”

  “You have some hotheads, Sebastian, more every day. And my orders come from so high up, I can hardly conceive of it. They don’t tell me much—no need to know—but I’m sure of one thing: Kailani will be returned to the department one way or another.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  “No, it’s a fact.”

  “But why?”

  “It’s way above my pay grade. They won’t tell me anything more.”

  “If that’s the case, how can you expect me to do more?”

  “Sebastian, please.”

  “Not unless I know what they intend to do with her.”

  The chief examiner slumped in his seat, as if his head had become too heavy for his neck.

  Sebastian began to sense the burden he carried. He watched the puffs of breath coming from their lips, fogging the car windows.

  Carlson righted himself. “I can tell you what I think they’ll do, based on more than thirty years at the department. As long as you understand it’s only a guess.”

  “Go ahead.”

  The chief examiner took a deep breath, steeling himself like a soldier about to rush into battle. “Kailani will be sent to a rehabilitation center to be retrained. She’s willful and old enough to have been indoctrinated by her countrymen—I’m sure you’ve seen that for yourself. It will take a while. During that time, she’ll be well cared for. She won’t be abused, but she’ll stay there until she’s assimilated to our ways.”

  “Assimilated how? In what way will they change her?”

  “She’ll stop believing in myths and learn to trust reason. In short, the sense of wonder that has... enchanted us all will diminish. She’ll no longer believe she’s the daughter of the sea and the sky.”

  “She’s just a child, Carlson. How can they treat her that way?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe in our pursuit of reason, we’ve become as unreas
onable as the other side.”

  Sebastian removed his gloves, rubbed his hands together, and blew into them. “I’m seventy-eight years old, and the older I get, the less impressed I am by reason.”

  “I may be starting to agree with you.” Carlson puffed out three clouds of breath. “But I’m certain of one thing: she doesn’t belong with your hotheads any more than she belongs with those troopers. Or worse, caught between the two. Please, Sebastian, hand her over to me before something terrible happens. Hand her over and I’ll do my utmost to make sure she’s treated well.”

  Sebastian raised the steaming cup, but stopped halfway to his lips and stared into it. Too little information, too much at stake. “That won’t be easy.”

  “I didn’t expect it would be, but consider the alternative.”

  He suddenly understood what the chief examiner had been trying to tell him. He shivered more from the conclusion than the cold. If Benjamin and his cohorts continued to resist, those higher up could shut down the farm.

  “How long have you been at the farm?” Carlson said, as if he’d read his mind.

  “Twelve years. Since my wife died.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It was a long time ago,” he said, though it felt like yesterday. He raised the cup, took a sip, and swallowed. “Now all I have left is the farm. What can I... what can we do together to save the farm and make things easier for Kailani?”

  “The problem is, we have only until Sunday noon. After that, it’ll be out of my control. Can you cool down your hotheads by then?”

  “I can try.”

  Carlson removed the glove from his right hand, fumbled in his pocket, and pulled out a card. “Here’s my private number. Call me when you’re able to transfer Kailani. I’ll meet you here, same spot. Make sure it’s after dark, and don’t wait too close to the deadline.”

  Sebastian grimaced. “What if I can’t?”

  “Then you’ll be dealing with the Secretary of the Department. He’s a political appointee and heavy-handed. I’m afraid to think what he’ll do, but if we work together, we can avoid that.” Carlson extended his bare hand. “Agreed?”