After surveying it for some time, they all moved right, to the next window.
“Unity,” Mara said. “The sign of the second of the Select.”
“Exactly,” Ted said. “Seconds govern the unity of person to person, most notably that of husband and wife to one another, second only to that of parent to child. Seconds encourage, support, and protect families and family relationships, without which life, a stable community, healthy children, and a safe future, eventually would cease. With fewer Select, these relationships have suffered.”
The window portrayed the simple rendition of a man and woman. They stood, face to face, their hands clasped together at their sides.
“What treasures!” Mara exclaimed.
They moved to the third window. It displayed a simple geometric rendition of three interwoven golden rings.
“The sign of the third,” Mara commented. “The whole.”
“The third of the Select signify the fragile but strong relationship between serving the Good One in body, mind, and spirit,” Dixon offered. “The three rings signify the Select’s commitment to follow in Ehyeh’s ways.”
“Yes,” Ted said, “and as I’m sure you can appreciate, today we see signs of a kind of malady among the people. When any of the three components of a balanced life gets out of order, the entire being suffers. So, as the Select have been reduced, people have found it more difficult to keep these three areas of their lives in order.”
Faith, after having made her way around a group of visitors, joined the conversation. “Many think the balance of these parts to life isn’t important. They argue that the Good One selfishly demands mankind’s service. But I was taught that He wants people to be balanced for their own benefit.”
“Well put,” said Ted.
The simplicity of the picture that portrayed such a sound but fundamental principle, struck Mara.
Moving back around the main entrance, they made their way to the other side of the room. They waited until after a group of students with their instructor moved away before stepping toward the fourth window. It depicted a building in outline, with an emphasis upon its cornerstone.
“Here is the sign of the fourth of the Select,” said Faith as she approached Mara’s side. “The fourth signify the foundational institutions upon which society depends.”
“Sanctuary, family, community, government,” Dixon commented. “Fourths are sovereign over organizations and institutions necessary for a civil society.”
“That’s right, Judith was a fourth, wasn’t she?” Mara commented as she glanced his way.
He nodded.
“Dixon is right,” said Faith. “As the numbers of the Select get higher, so too do the responsibilities associated with them. When the Select are out of proportion, the people are hurt because societal institutions are no longer in accord with one another, or with the people.
“Over the last years, that balance has suffered. Sanctuary has lost significance. Few people find value in holding to traditions that support and hold individuals accountable for their own actions. Likewise, families suffer because people put their personal interests above the interests of those for whom they are responsible. Because families suffer, so too do the communities they make.
“Only one earthly entity can make up the difference, and that is government. But as our forebears knew, and as we see more all the time, when government takes on too much, it becomes too powerful. When the people rely upon it to do and to provide what they should do and provide for themselves, the sanctity of sanctuary and family suffer even more. It is like a spiral that continues to move downward, ever more quickly.”
The group moved to the fifth window. It depicted a majestic wilderness. From the simplest earthworm to the lions of the savannah, to the birds of the air, to the fish of the sea, a noisy scene played out.
Mara imagined the patter of paws, the rush of wings in flight, the ripple of water. “And this,” she said, “is the sign of the fifth—nature.”
“That’s right,” Ted said. “The domain of the fifth is of nature in its many forms. This includes animal life, the forests, and waterways. It includes the living, whether underground, above ground, or in the sky, as well as the land itself, and the air we breathe. Fifths are endowed with keeping these areas healthy, because without a healthy environment, mankind cannot go on.”
“I hear a ‘but,’” Mara said.
Faith laughed. An easy, mirthful sound, it quickly died away to a sort of a sigh. “Yes, there is a ‘but’ as you say. You see, life depends upon these things and so we are all responsible for them. But we’re not to worship the earth or the things of it. Our first concern should be to the highest life form—human life—though we should deal with no other form idly.
“When we care for our world responsibly, we protect all living things. While we care for the lesser creatures, the life of a dog, or a bird, or a lizard, will never equal that of a person.” She paused, frowning. “It’s sad, but today many place a greater weight on those things than they do on human beings. We believe that this is why people are behaving strangely in these areas.”
“In what way?”
“Well, we’re finding many willing to sacrifice their own children in exchange for leading lives of ease. Often women don’t want the inconvenience and responsibility. Sometimes they abandon their young ones when they’re difficult to care for or to support. Do you know, some cities report that dozens of people have left their children to live in the streets?” Faith shook her head. “It’s tragic. And then there are the men who leave the wives of their youth and the children they begat to lives of poverty, in order to follow their own selfish desires.
“No one seems to bat an eye at these absurdities. They say people should be free to do as they please. And so they are—and so they should be. But society also should hold them responsible for their actions. You know, we’ve seen circumstances where mobs have attacked someone for stealing a beast’s eggs, while they’ve left another unmolested for harming a child. We don’t suggest the actions of the first are acceptable. We simply believe that the balance regarding the importance of life is, shall we say, off kilter.”
“Hmmm, I see what you mean.”
Moving on, the group came to the sixth window. It showed a multitude of faces of every skin color, hair color, eye color, shape, size and age.
“The sixth,” Dixon said.
“That’s right,” Ted said. “The sixth oversee humankind at all stages and in all its varieties.”
Mara marveled at how the complexity of the forms compared to the countless different people in the world. “So what happens when the sixth are out of balance?” she asked, directing her inquiry to Ted.
His eyes remained on the window. His shoulders sagged. “When the sixth are out of balance, people behave as though they can and should do whatever they wish, whenever they want, to whomever they choose. Each person acts as though he is a law unto himself.”
“And then,” Dixon said, “chaos reigns.”
They all stood quietly, each processing the horrors that could exist in such a world. Then after some minutes, they moved on.
“And here,” Ted said as they approached the seventh and final window, “is the sign of the seventh. The seventh signify completion and order. They are teachers and prophets. Their gifts enable them to educate others about the value of a life in balance. That balance is simple, but profound. Care first for yourself and those for whom you’re responsible. Do not be a burden to others.”
“And,” added Dixon, “cause no harm, except or unless it is necessary to protect yourself or others. You are never obligated to allow another to steal your freedom, your time, or your labor. You are never asked to be a slave to the whims of others.”
“The great admonition,” Mara whispered.
The seventh window depicted a woman in simple attire. Signs of the other symbols of the Select—a seed, a couple in outline, three adjoining rings, a cornerstone, an animal, and a human face
—surrounded her.
“Completion,” Mara said. “Let me summarize this one. The seventh signify a reign over life in general, life in order, life lived fully, justly, and well. The seventh bring wisdom—that being the knowledge of all of the six underlying principles, how they interact, and how to apply those principles to daily circumstances. With the seventh properly in place, life goes forward in peace and prosperity, with the fullest of blessings.”
“Well put,” Dixon said.
When she looked at him, he winked. She smiled and blushed at his compliment.
The group made its way toward the center of the room. There sat a statue they could not have missed upon first entering the building. Now they examined it more closely. The lights from the surrounding windows and ceiling all converged at this place. Their continued waltzing played upon the outlines of the majestic rendition of a very old woman holding a perfect, an exquisite, newborn.
“How incredibly beautiful!” Nina exclaimed.
“This statue signifies the life we have through the Good One,” Faith explained. “We are to value all life, from the earliest moment to the last. Ehyeh commissioned the Oathtakers to protect the Select because it is they who have carried this message through the ages and from place to place. There is nothing more important or precious than life and freedom. We guard it because it is the Good One’s gift to us.”
“Which again explains the great admonition, our creed,” Dixon added.
“Exactly,” Faith said. “The Good One has but two requirements for us: take care and responsibility for yourself, those to whom you are responsible and those unable to care for themselves, and cause no harm to others unless they threaten your life or liberty, or the life or liberty of others.”
Mara stepped closer to the statue. The old woman was the visual representation of a life fully lived. Her skin was weathered and wrinkled, her hair thinning, her eyes wilted. A woman of strength, though well past her prime, she appeared content.
The statue was so lifelike, Mara half expected its subject to inhale. The artist had captured each wrinkle on her knuckles, the finest details of her ears, her toes, her lips, and even her tired arteries. By contrast, the infant was the depiction of perfect, robust, newborn health.
The old woman held the child with one hand placed high in the middle of its back and with one finger extended to steady its head. Her other, slightly curved hand, held the child’s bottom. Arms and legs bent, fingers held in little fists, and chubby toes curled, the child slept the peaceful slumber of one nourished and protected.
Dixon stepped to Mara’s side, arms folded.
They watched the fluttering colored lights dance on the statue.
“This is amazing,” she said. “It’s so like my dream,” she then muttered, as though to herself. “Or nightmare, more like . . .”
He turned a hawk-like glare at her. “What did you say?”
“I said it reminds me of my dream—or my nightmare. But not this part. This is so like— Yes, I’d say it is exactly as I—”
He grabbed her elbow and pulled her away from their friends and some lingering visitors. He glared. “What dream?”
She pulled her arm from his grip. “What’s the problem, Dixon? So I had a dream. The statue just brought it back to my recollection, that’s all.”
“Mara, tell me—right now. What did you dream?”
He spoke so quickly, he flustered her. Still, she couldn’t help but notice the look in his eyes. Was it worry? Or perhaps, fear?
“I had a dream last night. Someone was chasing us. Actually, there were so many things from the past couple of days in it that . . . Well, I guess this statue was new, but . . . Well you were in it, and me, and Ted, and Faith, and Nina and the girls. And . . . someone else. Someone I didn’t recognize. She was beautiful. That is she looked beautiful. But she seemed . . . confused . . . and I think she was a danger to the girls.”
Dixon became more agitated. His eyes darted around the room. He pulled at her arm again. “Mara, tell me what happened. Who was the woman? This is important.”
“All right. All right.” Again she pulled free of his grasp. “It was a nightmare, that’s all. This woman approached us by a statue just like this one. She led us out of the building and then she took Reigna and Eden.”
His face went ashen. “Mara, we’ve got to get out of here right now!”
“What? It was just a dream.”
“No, it wasn’t just a dream! Seeing something like this in real life after having first seen it in your dream is almost certainly a sign. It’s some kind of attendant power at work. A message from Ehyeh. He was trying to warn you! And now that it took so long before you mentioned this—”
“I didn’t know!”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just— Look, we’ve got to get out of here. Quickly! Head for that door! It leads to the back of the building where Francis left our horses. Take Nina. Now—go!” he urged, pointing to the exit. “I’ll be right behind you. Just ride northeast as hard and fast as you can. Go! Go! Go!” He touched her low on her back and gently pushed her toward the door.
She grasped Nina’s hand and then dashed away.
Dixon approached his friend who’d watched the exchange. “Ted,” he said, his voice low, “we have to go—now. I’ll explain everything as soon as I can. For now, I thank you and—”
“What is it?”
“There’s trouble coming. I’ll get back to you as quickly as possible, I promise. I—”
“Well, well, well,” came a voice from the main entrance, “if it isn’t Dixon Townsend.”
Dixon took in a deep breath, cautioning himself to relax his expression before turning around. As he did, a band of men barged into the front door. Noise and confusion accompanied them. Sanctuary guests spread out and backed toward the walls. Dixon looked to the woman who’d spoken as her eyes moved to the men. She exchanged a long glance with their leader.
In that moment, Dixon knew. He knew the source of danger. He knew it was these men who had pursued Rowena. He knew it was this woman who’d sent them. He knew.
He willed himself to remain calm. He couldn’t let on about what he’d concluded. “Lilith,” he finally said, “how good to see you.” He stepped toward the woman. Then turning to the men who’d rushed into sanctuary behind her, he addressed them. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but this is sanctuary.”
“Here, here, gentlemen,” Ted said, “you are most welcome. Of course we must ask you to leave your weapons there, at the door. They’ll be safe, I assure you.” He turned and caught the attention of another Oathtaker. “Robert,” he called, “please stand guard for these men over their . . . things.”
“Yes, you should know better,” Lilith scolded. Her eyes bore into the men. Then she turned her attention back to Dixon, a smile fixed upon her lips, her head tilted. “Dixon, so good to see you, too.”
She glided toward him, her red silken skirts flirting about her. She was stunning, with hair like gilded gold, eyes of a deep green, and lips red and glossy. An almost sickeningly sweet scent, reminiscent of roses and lilies, surrounded her.
Dixon desperately wanted to see the reactions of the men to whom she’d spoken, but he dared not give her any inkling of his suspicions. Keeping his eyes fixed on her, he grasped just above her wrists to best keep her at a distance.
He turned to Ted and Faith. With Lilith unable to see his expression, he caught the eye of each of his friends for a moment, his brow raised by way of warning.
“Lilith,” he said as he turned back to her, “let me introduce you to some friends of mine. Ted,” he began, as he stepped aside.
Lilith approached Ted. Accustomed to having great power over men, her every movement was choreographed for maximum effect, for conquest: eyes narrowed, but not too much; lips pursed, but not too much; chest breathing hard—but not too much.
Ted shook her hand. Covering his with her own, she ever so slightly caressed it . . . but not too much.
Ted glanced at Dixon, wh
o surmised his friend had read Lilith expertly, then looked back at her. “Pleased to meet you.” He bowed slightly.
“No. No, it’s my pleasure,” she responded, holding out on the word “pleasure.”
“Faith,” Dixon said, “let me introduce you to Rowena’s sister, Lilith, a sixth.”
As Lilith greeted Faith, he looked at Ted, and with quiet gestures, filled him in on what he’d just discovered. His eyes moved quickly to Lilith, then to the men who’d barged into sanctuary behind her, then back again.
With a nod, Ted communicated his understanding. “Please excuse me,” he said, “I must see to my duties.” He exited sanctuary from the back door.
“Dixon,” Lilith purred, “this is all very nice. I’m always happy to meet your friends. But where is Rowena?” She held his arm, pressing against him.
He wanted to take his time, to drag things out. He wanted to give Mara as much time as possible to get as far away as possible.
“Well,” he finally drawled, “that’s a long story and . . . not a happy one, I’m sorry to say.”
“Oh, Dixon!” she said, leaning even more closely, brushing her breast against him. It was a mannerism she’d practiced to perfection. “You always talk in riddles!” Her laughter bubbled, but there was no sincerity to it.
“Truly,” he continued as he gently, but not too obviously, tried to extricate himself from her grasp, “I’m afraid my news is not . . . good news.”
“And what news would that be?”
He breathed slowly. He paused and looked to the ground. He had to buy time, to drag things out. “I’m so very sorry to tell you that Rowena . . . is . . . dead,” he finally said, looking up.
Lilith’s eyes flashed toward the men still loosely assembled near the door. He followed the look. The leader opened his mouth as though to speak, then closed it. Quickly, Dixon averted his gaze so she wouldn’t know that he’d witnessed the exchange.
Turning back to him, she continued, her voice hard, “Really, Dixon, it’s not nice to tell falsehoods—and such cruel ones. I would not have thought you capable of that. Now, where is Rowena, really? I haven’t seen her in some time.”
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