Keeper Sam sat next to Numa and looked over his shoulder, clearly expecting to see someone. “Wasn’t she just here?” he asked. “I chose Molly of Aerie as my second, only she must have stepped away for a moment.”
Soman glanced at Gemynd to see how he would react to the news of his mother being Sam’s second, but Gemynd’s face was expressionless, his gaze trained on Golath.
“I am here! My apologies for being late,” Molly called from the stairwell before she appeared on the dais carrying a large tray. She winked at Soman and said, “I wanted to be sure we were all well-supplied with refreshment before we begin.”
“Molly?” Golath asked with incredulity, pushing his chair back to stand. “How can this be? You haven’t aged a day in over twenty years.”
Molly smiled at him and Soman saw her cheeks blush. He couldn’t help but wonder again if she had been the wisest choice for Sam’s second.
“Let the council commence,” Keeper Fregman said, interrupting the exchange between Golath and Molly. Golath politely took his cue and sat down.
“Aye,” Archigadh blurted. “I propose our first rule be that no glinting is allowed on the council.”
Golath shook his head. “I will not agree to such a rule,” he said.
“We will vote on it,” Keeper Sam put in.
“I just did,” Golath replied.
“Perhaps we can at least discuss it first,” Sam said. “Chief Archigadh, will you explain why you propose the rule of no glinting?”
Archigadh remained silent for several moments, twisting the end of the braids in his beard.
“I can explain it,” Golath said. “The rule of no glinting is specifically directed at me. In fact, what it really should say is that Iturtian glinting is not allowed on the council. Is it even possible for Archigadh or Numa to stop glinting? It is simply part of who they are. If that rule were to be put in place, it would be stating the plain truth that the Iturtian representative is not trusted by the rest of the council. Is that truly how we wish to begin this thing?
“For my part, I’d like to remind you all that I was banished from Aerie, my home, because of a similar rule. I will never be in that situation again. So my vote on the rule of no glinting is nay and will always be so.”
“Yes,” Numa said. “I agree. If we are to be a council of equals, we must all take the risk and trust one another. I vote nay as well.”
“This is a wonderful discussion,” Keeper Sam said. “But should we not first decide on our rules of voting before we begin voting? Are we to accept the majority vote or do all matters have to be settled unanimously?”
“Unanimously,” Numa said, nodding her head as though that was only correct answer.
“Aye,” Archigadh agreed. “It must be unanimous or it could leave the three to overrule the one. Every voice must carry equal importance. And you are right, Director, that rule was meant entirely for you and I have begun this ordeal in a state of mistrust. I have seen what you can do, however if this council is truly to work, there must be trust. I take back my proposed rule. We shall all work together here as honest men.”
Soman did not feel comfortable with this decision, but was beginning to grow accustomed to deferring to his father’s choices. He also knew that was as close to an apology as Golath was ever going to get from Archigadh and he felt a surge of pride for his father showing such wisdom.
“Thank you,” Golath said simply in reply. “And I agree that voting should be unanimous.”
“I vote unanimous as well,” Sam said. “Mark that down, scribe. Our first vote has passed.”
Talk quickly turned to the rebuilding of Todor, especially Tolnick and Iturtia. Discussions seemed to drag on for hours about the best use of resources and whether or not the new city of Iturtia should be located in the desert. Golath was adamant that there should be no more walls separating the races of people and that glinting should be allowed everywhere.
“If we are truly going to rebuild Todor in the best possible way, then let us ensure that there is never again a place of secrets and deception,” he said. “Let it be that everyone is able to benefit from whatever source of wealth there is, without having to sacrifice his glinting powers to get it. True equality means that all people are free to be their true selves.”
“Agreed,” Numa said. “So much of my personal suffering has been a result of the deception in Aerie. I believe we can recreate the beauty and Joy we had there while celebrating Terrenes and glinters alike.”
“Aye,” Archigadh added. “I would also add that the Tolnick keep be forever sealed. Let it stand as a reminder of our past, though no one be allowed entry there again. The council is not made up of kings and queens and we shall not rule from a tower.”
Keeper Sam, Numa and Golath all nodded their consent, so yet another tenet of the Agreement had been unanimously passed.
Soman kept his eye on the tray that Molly had brought in. When she’d brought it, it had been covered with dried meats and bread, but because she had set the tray within Archigadh’s reach, it was now empty. Just as empty as Soman’s stomach. How he wished he had Numa’s ability to make food simply appear.
But then, as if the Deis had heard his pleas, a lovely yellow-haired girl entered the dais carrying another tray laden with food and drink. Soman felt his mouth water at the sight of it and he watched the girl’s movements very carefully.
She set the tray down on the table near Golath then straightened, revealing the most enormous pair of breasts Soman had ever seen. The fabric of her dress was pulled so tightly across her bosom, Soman was certain he could hear the threads straining. The two mounds of flesh that spilled out over her neckline were each the size of Archigadh’s head! And with every move she made, they jiggled like the cold fat that hardened on the top of leftover stew.
Soman knew his eyes were wide, but he could do nothing to remedy it. His biggest mistake, however, was in glancing at Gemynd who wore the very same expression. Gemynd then looked at Soman and pressed his lips tightly together, clearly trying to hold back the laughter that threatened to spill forth.
That was Soman’s undoing. He, too, tried to contain his laughter, which only meant that it came out his nose instead of his mouth and he treated everyone on the dais to a very loud, unceremonious snort.
Gemynd lost his resolve at that moment and howled with laughter, slapping Soman on the knee. Somewhere in the back of Soman’s mind, he knew they were carrying on like undisciplined boors, but it seemed the harder he tried not to laugh, the worse it got. Finally, after several moments, Soman was able to catch his breath and feign a solemn expression.
He desperately hoped the yellow-haired girl did not think they had been laughing at her, so he risked glancing at her again. But she seemed none the wiser as she set cups and plates around the table.
Soman sighed and swallowed, making every effort to not so much as see Gemynd from the corner of his eye lest the laughter begin all over again. So he looked across the table and met the ice-cold glare of a very disappointed Numa.
“As I was saying,” she said, narrowing her eyes specifically at Gemynd, somehow able to silently scold him while still carrying on with the council discussion. “With our combined powers, we could rebuild all that was destroyed by the earthquake and the fire in Zoban in a matter of hours. Or even less. We do not need to allocate Todor’s resources for the task.”
And on the discussion went. For hours and hours. Soman tried his best to stifle yawns and keep his commentary to Gemynd to a minimum. And he also tried to pay attention to the discussion before him, but it did not hold his interest for more than a moment or two. The topics were tedious. The council hammered out rules for its own operation and made a grand list of all of Todor’s resources. He must have heard the word ‘equality’ said a thousand times.
Perhaps he would have found it all more interesting if there had been even a modicum of conflict within the council. Surely a lively debate would have kept his attention. But all four of the council
members seemed to agree on every point. Sam did most of the talking with the other three chiming in with their affirmative votes.
Soman stared straight ahead and imagined ways to keep his eyelids open. Was there a device in existence to aid in such an endeavor? Perhaps some sort of special helmet or strap. Or maybe there was a way to tie his eyelashes to his eyebrows. Something had to be done, and soon, because the muscles of his eyelids were quickly running out of strength. In fact, they were beginning to twitch as he fought with all his might to keep them from closing.
“Your tea, sir,” a friendly voice said next to him.
Soman looked up, only then realizing that he had slid so far down in his chair that only his upper body remained in it. “Thank you,” he said, taking the cup from the young worker man.
Soman sat up tall, drinking his tea, and handed the cup back. He shook his head and stretched his back, feeling that maybe the fairytooth tea was just the thing he needed to remain alert.
“I only have one final point of discussion on my list,” Keeper Sam said. “Then we can move on to the issues on each of your lists.”
“Your list is more than sufficient,” Archigadh grumbled.
“The Truths and the Book of Life,” Keeper Sam announced. “They must be included in our Agreement in some fashion.”
Golath tapped his fingers on the table and shook his head. “An Agreement is the last place for the Truths,” he said. “There is no agreement when it comes to the Truths.”
“Perhaps not in the interpretations of them,” Keeper Sam allowed. “But we can all agree on their inherent value, can we not?”
“We cannot,” Golath said, looking as though someone had passed wind next to him.
“Zobanites agree on the Truths,” Archigadh said. “They have always been a part of our lives: the instructions on a happy life straight from the Deis. I agree with the wee Keeper. We should give them a mention in our Agreement.”
“I mean no disrespect, Chief,” Golath began and Soman felt himself tense up. “But Zobanites aren’t known for giving a lot of thought to complicated issues. It’s easy to agree when there are no questions.”
“Aye,” Archigadh said, nodding. “And it’s easy to agree when you’re kept busy serving others instead of dreaming up new ways of contention.”
“Please, let’s not make this about our personal differences,” Numa interjected quickly. “Let us not forget that we are here to make Todor the best it can be.”
“Yes, and we can do that without any mention of the Truths,” Golath insisted.
“I do not believe we can,” said Keeper Sam. “Think about it, Director. The Truths have been an essential part of the lives of the people for longer than anyone can remember. If we don’t even mention them, their absence in the new Agreement would bring more attention to them than anything.”
“Perhaps we could simply say something like ‘It is left to each individual to incorporate the Ten Truths and the Book of Life into his or her life as he or she wishes’,” Numa said.
A moment of silence passed through the group, then they all simultaneously began nodding.
“I can agree with that,” Keeper Sam said.
“Aye,” replied Archigadh. “It suits me fine.”
“I agree as well,” Golath concurred.
“Scribe, write that in,” Keeper Sam said with a broad smile. “Now, what have we not yet covered?”
Soman was afraid to listen to the answer, worried that someone would step in with a list as long as Sam’s had been. Instead, he thought about the comment his father had made about being too busy serving people. He had said it so reflexively that there was no question he believed that’s what he’d been doing. Serving the people. Was it possible he believed what Maireen had said? The true purpose of a Zobanite was to serve?
As Soman sat pondering, Archigadh suddenly stood up, his nose in the air. Instinctively Soman jumped to his feet to protect him.
“What is it, Chief?” he asked, looking around. The air was tinged with the crackly energy of lightning and the heavy smell of water. Soman heard a strange sound from the west. Or was it from the north? It was far away and sounded like a stampede of a million horses coming from every direction.
Soman looked to the north and saw a strange, shimmering movement near the horizon. He did not know what it was, but he knew it was coming towards them. He looked out at the crowd of thousands and a single thought ran through his mind: “I must protect them all.”
Gemynd
A low rumbling began from the north. Gemynd thought it sounded just like the oil presses had in Aerie: stones grinding upon stones. It grew louder and louder as though the sound itself was traveling towards them, but Gemynd could see nothing in the distance to explain it. No stones rolling towards them, no stampedes of animals. For several moments, it was just the sound.
But then the shaking began. Gemynd felt it under his feet and looked out to see the rubble throughout Tolnick vibrating and dancing like beads of water in a hot pan.
“Another earthquake,” he said and glanced at Numa. “Can you move everyone to safety?”
“It’s not an earthquake,” Numa said, closing her eyes for a moment. “The earth is still beneath us.”
Gemynd looked towards the oncoming sound again, but this time saw a strange mist in the air. Was it dust? Was it smoke? It didn’t quite seem like either, but a murky, formless mass rushing towards Tolnick.
“What is that?” he asked Soman, pointing at the mass.
Soman wrinkled his brow in confusion, then his eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open. “It’s water,” he gasped.
“A flood!” Archigadh shouted.
Before Gemynd had time to move, or breathe, or even think, a wall of water as high as the Tolnick keep smashed into him, knocking the air from his lungs and sweeping him off the dais. Immediately, Gemynd was dragged under. Stones and roots and other bodies crashed into him, breaking and bruising him. He reached out, his hands furiously grasping at anything, hoping to grab hold of Numa, or Soman, or his father or mother, or anyone that he might save from the brutality of the flood. But he could not feel them. He could not call out to them.
The water pulled at Gemynd and tossed his body about as though it were no more substantial than a dead leaf caught in a breeze. He moved too fast and could not see to orient himself. He was completely at the mercy of the domineering water.
Gemynd reasoned that if he stopped fighting and simply allowed himself to float, the air in his body would lift him to the surface, which is where he needed to be. And quickly. His lungs were already burning with the need for breath.
Gemynd let his body go limp and, just as he’d hoped, he started to move up. Or was he going further down? He tensed up again as he realized he had no way of knowing which way he was going. Then, without warning, a sharp pain pierced through the left side of his skull as a large stone smashed against it.
And Gemynd suddenly felt very tired. He closed his eyes and relaxed his muscles, giving way to the whim of the water. He felt his throat begin to convulse as it begged for a single breath of air. He could open his mouth and inhale, ending the need forever. But what of his loved ones? Could he really hurt Numa that way? He knew he had not had nearly enough time with her. He was not ready to die. But how much longer could his mind rule his body? Especially when he felt so tired.
Gemynd opened his eyes and saw Numa in the water below him. She smiled and waved and beckoned him closer. He moved towards her and saw that his father and mother were there, too. And Keeper Stout. They had all come to see him. In fact, Gemynd could see now that they were preparing a meal for him. It was a feast, all laid out on a beautiful table. Next to the table was a bedsack, just like the one he’d had in Aerie.
“I will rest before the meal,” he said to them in psychspeak and swam towards the bedsack.
Before he had a chance to reach it, the bedsack started to move. Arms and legs grew out of its rectangular form and it pushed itself through the wat
er. It was swimming towards him! As it came closer, Gemynd saw it had grown a face, a face that looked remarkably like Soman.
The bedsack propelled itself with rapid force right at Gemynd, then wrapped its arms around him and carried him through the water. Gemynd rested his head against the comfortable mattress and thought that, at last, he would sleep.
His peace would not last long, however. With a force greater even than the flood had been, the bed-sack thrust Gemynd up through the surface of the water, breaking through the barrier between death and life, into a place where sound and light suddenly assaulted him. And they did not stop there. The bedsack went up and up, straight into the air.
Gemynd’s body responded of its own accord and he began gasping, taking enormous gulps of sweet, life-giving air.
“Gemynd?” the bedsack asked and Gemynd looked up to see that it not only had Soman’s face, but the rest of his body as well.
“Soman?” he asked, the new air in his body, bringing clarity to his mind. “Are we flying?”
“Yes, you were miles from Tolnick,” Soman replied. “I’d grabbed so many people, but none of them were you. You were standing right next to me and then you were gone.”
“You were unharmed,” Gemynd said, marveling at Soman’s face. It was wet, but otherwise unchanged.
“Zobanites can go without breathing for long periods of time,” he replied. “And we’re strong enough to withstand the force of the water. Thankfully there were so many of us in Tolnick to rescue others.”
“Where is Numa?” Gemynd asked. He knew she could not be hurt nor killed, but she could be frightened. “Is she well?”
“She is in Tolnick, absorbing the last of the flood,” Soman explained.
“Oh,” Gemynd replied and looked below him, taking in the wonder of everything Soman had just said. He was flying. Numa was absorbing a flood. As Gemynd looked down, he saw that the dark soil that had made up the fields of the Great Wide Valley had been pushed far south so that it now covered a vast portion of the Iturtian desert.
Disintegration: The Todor Trilogy, Book Two Page 22