by Ava D. Dohn
* * *
The captain of the stratoliner refused to leave for Oros in the snowstorm. “I am responsible for the welfare of my crew and passengers, General. The Brosh will have to wait for you or you will have to catch up with it. I’m sorry.”
PalaHar grumbled aloud but let the matter go. Paul could little understand how easily the general had given in. As he and PalaHar strolled into the passenger lounge to wait for the storm to clear or for a sky ferry’s arrival in an hour, thoughts turned into questions.
“Why didn’t you order him to depart? He’s only a captain in that he pilots the ship. He’s not even in the military.”
PalaHar slouched down in his seat, unbuttoned his heavy leather coat, and tipped his hat forward over his eyes. After getting comfortable, he replied, “My friend, you must understand our ways. First, no person is superior to another - at least that’s the way we lived until the Rebellion - still do in the Children’s Empire. What are superior are the different positions of responsibility certain children must bear. That captain has been given title to command that ship. His duty is to the welfare of those who travel in it. I would be delinquent of moral and social graces if I were to commandeer the ship under current circumstances.”
He tipped his hat back so he could watch Paul’s reaction. “‘Designating authority’ - that’s what I call it. It is one of the oldest ideas of freedom and, I think, one of the most fundamental. It goes all the way back to the first of our kind, ‘ChrusionHoraios’, as he would be called in your old language - the ‘jewel beyond beauty’ or ‘beautiful jewels’. He is the one we call ‘Adelphos’ or, more appropriately, ‘Asotos’.”
To say that Paul was shocked would be an understatement. Asotos’ ancient name was never mentioned aloud among Lowenah’s loyal children for fear of hurting their mother. It was not mentioned among Asotos’ followers out of fear of reprisal. This was a grand revelation to a child born in the Realms Beneath and delivered to this place, Paul never having heard Asotos’ full name and its meaning.
Paul gasped, “You are telling me Asotos’ given name is ChrusionHoraios?”
PalaHar smiled, shaking his head. “No. No, I didn’t. I said that is how you would pronounce his name in your old language. Asotos was born in the days before there was a common tongue. Speech as we know it was invented only after his birth. The language of the runes is the origin of his name. Few have ever heard it uttered in the Rune language. Fewer still, have mastered saying it. A translation into our language, the language we, the children, invented and have for so long used…that is the way it is known today.”
He leaned toward Paul, keeping his voice low, although it wasn’t necessary, seeing most other waiting stratoliner passengers had long since abandoned the terminal. “The language of the runes is a written form of communication shared between our mother and her Cherubs. Before the coming of the children, there was no formal spoken language, just written - mental and musical, you might say. You know, harmonics and all. Not that the world of those days before the children was a quiet place.” PalaHar laughed. “It was far from silent.”
After pulling his hat from his head and placing it over his knee, PalaHar began reminiscing. “When I was a child, the towers of the outer wall were all that one could see from the palace atop the butte. Jungle-like forests filled all the inner lands. Those lands were the playgrounds of the children, only six of us. The ranges beyond belonged to the Cherubs and we were instructed by our mother not to pass beyond the gates for our safety.”
“I remember that I would often go near the outer gates at the coming of evening to wait for the Cherubs’ returning. Looking back upon it now, I believe mother put the Cherubs up to putting on a show for us.”
“The sun would sink beyond the western hills and soon their procession would begin. Dozens, hundreds, sometimes thousands of fiery, manlike Cherubs would parade through the gate, thumping, vrahooming, hooting, and what have you. On they would march, their torches blazing in the darkness, holding high what looked like tools for labor. Many toted baskets bursting with delightful treasures of dates, figs, or wild fruits. Others trudged along carrying or pulling cages filled with animals and fowl. All the while they were making music, the strangest, most beautiful music I ever heard.”
He laughed. “On they’d march. When one of us children got too close, a Cherub often would jump from the march and roar some unrecognized warning or threat, shaking his work tool in the air while sending flames and smoke into the sky. Off we’d run to hide behind a boulder or tree, our hearts beating with wild excitement. Oh, what fun it was!”
Paul yearned for other tales from old, but PalaHar returned to the subject of freedom and authority. “My friend, a person isn’t given authority unless he or she is qualified to handle it. Such positions are earned. They’re not entitlements. While it’s often true that many who receive command lack experience, they still have the fundamental qualifications to handle the job. Didn’t you, yourself, once write that a man needed to be tested out as to fitness first before receiving authority?”
Smiling, Paul agreed. “I was writing to our friend, Timothy.”
PalaHar continued, “If, then, authority is given only to those qualified, what would warrant the removal of the authority given?”
Paul considered the question before answering. “Only if they proved themselves irresponsible...”
“Yes.” PalaHar replied. “A person in authority must have the freedom to exercise given authority without threat of dismissal or reprimand, that is, unless they are irresponsible or derelect in their duties. Making a poor choice or wrong decision is not necessarily either of those two things.”
He glanced around the waiting room. Only two other people were there, some distance away and both appeared asleep. PalaHar spoke in a hush. “The girl, Ishtar, who I’m taking to MueoPoros, is such an example. I fear that her poor decision-making will cost my brothers and sisters dearly, yet it must be that way. The child has the abilities - fitness, you might say. Now she must develop those abilities in ways that only having authority can teach her. She must be allowed the freedom to make those mistakes.”
PalaHar folded his hands in his lap. “Now for the captain of the stratoliner, I could have overruled him and ordered the ship away. I have the rank to do that, but I would have been held accountable to the ones who gave him command in the first place. In reality, I have no authority over him because I didn’t assign him the job. If I had been the one who did, I’d still be under a moral obligation to justify my dismissal of his authority even if it were only temporary. You see, when you give to another authority you possess, even if you rank higher than that person, they become your superior in relationship to the authority given. You have to do things their way as long as they’re in charge.”
He slapped a hand on the chair arm. “Lowenah, the one you call ‘Yehowah’, has set the sterling example in this regard. She has surrendered her own authority in order for us to feel peace and joy in our lives. We choose our own course, but” shaking his finger, “we must be willing to accept the consequences of our actions.”
PalaHar’s lecture on authority was interrupted by the stratoliner captain’s approach. “If you please, General, the storm is easing here, and I have been informed that the skies over Oros are clear. We are de-icing the wings and warming the engines as I speak. Departure will be in about ten minutes.”
PalaHar thanked the captain, stood, and looked at his timepiece. “Well, that wasn’t bad...less than a forty minute delay.” He nodded to Paul. “You see, my friend, only forty minutes lost, but not really. There is still plenty of time to catch my ride out of Oros and we had a good talk.”
Paul replied. “Your way seems to work well. I’m afraid my people have much to learn about authority and time. Maybe we will one day grasp them.”