One day he walked into Biff’s office, which, at the time, was a well-appointed room in a small house in the slums of the city. It was the only room in the house with furniture, and the only room that didn’t smell like urine and garbage. He had opened the door without knocking and found Biff sitting on his throne, as the boys liked to call it, with his feet crossed on his fine oak desk and his arms crossed behind his head. He turned to Travis and raised an eyebrow, his standard greeting.
“Biff, I think it’s time I found another career path,” Travis said plainly.
“Is it because of that boy?” he asked, his expression unchanging.
“Yes,” Travis answered. “I’ve been thinking about leaving for a long time, Biff, but yes, I decided to leave today because of the boy.”
“He was going to kill you, you know. He was about a half second away from pricking you with that pin. That pin was laced with arum of Atai. You would have died in minutes.”
“Yes, I know. It had to be done.” Travis considered telling him about the nightmares. It had been ten days, and every night he would relive the experience over and over. Maclamar drawing his long knife and swinging at something behind his legs; turning around to see a six-year-old boy on the floor, throat cut; horror on his face; blood spurting between his fingers in the rhythm of his pulse as he desperately tried to stem the bleeding with his hands; the life seeming to dim and then extinguish in his eyes; the blood flowing from his neck slowing to a trickle; puddling under his body, then flowing towards Travis, trapping him against the bar.
“Biff, I just don’t want to be a part of something that could ever put me in a situation like that again.”
Biff nodded solemnly. “It’s all right, Travis. I don’t take it personally. You and the world have to sort it out between yourselves.”
“The orphan’s curse,” Travis answered.
Biff smiled, and nodded his head. Then he rose from his chair, walked around his desk and embraced Travis in a way that Travis, for once, knew exactly how his friend was feeling.
Travis settled in as Lyra began to sing. Her voice was more than beautiful. He had heard the song she was singing many times, but never quite like this. He breathed lightly and absorbed the richness of her voice, and the peaceful beauty of the song. He wondered how such a sound could be possible. It was as if the music were not only coming from the stage, but from all around him. Her voice filled the entire room, and echoed softly, adding further resonance to the rich music. He wondered for a moment how she might be combining her abilities with her music, and then decided he did not care. He sat back in his seat and let the music wash over him.
“She sings beautifully,” came a voice from behind him, startling him out of the near-trance that Lyra seemed to be inducing.
Travis turned around to find a giant sitting next to him on a barstool. His first reaction was that this was not only a huge man, but an ugly, huge man. He had the kind of stature and appearance that was both frightening and endearing at the same time. After a moment, he recognised him.
“You are the man travelling with those little people.”
“I am, and I have come to find out why you are interested in them.”
XXX
The third day of the carnival is the day of Katchek, the God of War and of Justice. On this day we remember the fallen and honour Jeandania’s warriors of all stripes, whether wielding pens or wielding swords, whether writing our laws or enforcing them ...
– King Arconus, transcript from the King’s address from the third day of the first Carnival at Kraal
Liam was surprised, even pleased, when the guard arrived with a hot coffee and breakfast for both he and his cellmate.
“Liam Foster, what is it that contents you so on a day like this?” asked the old man.
Liam had grown accustomed to the strange old man’s penetrating observations, and was not surprised that he had sensed Liam’s mood. “One way or another, it will end today.”
“Do not be so sure, Liam Foster.”
Liam looked at him inquisitively, then dug into his breakfast.
They sat in silence for most of the morning. Liam spent much time thinking of what he would say at his trial, and how he might react to the King’s tactics. He did not expect to win. The King would see to that, but he was determined to conduct himself with dignity, and to do everything he could to share the truth with the people of Jeandania. Mainly, though, in his time of silence, Liam dwelt on the memories of his wife and daughter. After all these years, his love for his wife had never weakened, nor had his guilt. As for Brandi, the pain of her loss was still an open wound, but his love for her was an inspiration to carry on, to do the right thing, to confront the evil before him. Liam also thought of Rhoie and the terrible image of him being carried off. Perhaps he was still alive. Liam dearly hoped he was, and that even if he were to die today, Rhoie would hear the telling of the story of the trial, and think well of him.
After a time the old man finally spoke. “May I ask you one question before we part, Liam Foster?”
“Of course, my friend. What is it you want to know?”
“You say you do not wish to kill the King.”
“I do not.”
“But you have aided in killing a king before.”
“I have.”
“You claim you have no ambition for the throne now.”
“I do not.”
“I believe you, as I hear you speak the words, but I do not understand.”
“What is it? I see no need to keep secrets from you. What is so confusing?”
“You did not seek the throne before, when Tobias was killed.”
“No,” Liam chuckled, “of course not. How could I have claimed the throne?”
“He was your uncle.”
Liam stared at him for a moment. “Where did you hear that?”
“I hear things.”
“Well, my friend. That is ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous?” he questioned with a hysterical tone, and then he laughed and laughed in a way that made Liam smile and wince at the same time. “I like you, Liam Foster. I like you,” he said, jabbing his bony finger convulsively towards Liam. “I wish you well. You seem a good man.”
Eventually the old man’s laughter subsided, and a moment later Liam heard heavy footsteps coming down the corridor. “Thank you, my friend. You never did tell me your name.”
The old man stood up as the guards reached the cell. He put his arms up in the air strangely, and a moment later Liam understood why as the guards placed shackles around his wrists.
“What are you doing?” Liam protested. “Where are you taking him?”
“Liam Foster, I am surprised at you. Did you think it was coincidence that we shared a cell?”
“What are you talking about?”
“They are going to interrogate me now. They think you might have told me something valuable.”
“By Ishra, what a fool I’ve been,” Liam said desperately. “I am sorry, my friend.”
“You have enough on your mind, Liam Foster. Don’t trouble yourself over an old man.”
Liam felt he had been terribly naive. Of course they would interrogate him, whether or not he had anything valuable to tell them, and they would interrogate him to death. Liam knew that the end would have been the same if he had realised it sooner, but that was no comfort. A deep sadness took hold as he watched the poor old man being taken away.
“What is your name?” he asked again.
“My name is Verkleet.”
~Æ~
Travis was nervous as Lyra knocked on the door. He was very uncomfortable about confronting Filos, the Ganta, and his Mikraino friends, but he also felt hopeful. For some reason he was certain that this was the next threshold he needed to cross to recover the box.
After a moment the door opened, and Filos’s enormous frame filled the doorway.
“Please come in,” welcomed Filos in his deep, resonant voice.
“Thank you,” a
nswered Lyra. Filos led them through the small dining room and into a lounge furnished with several pieces of elegant, comfortable old furniture. A fire had been built, and beside the hearth were two large chairs, each occupied by a very small person with eyes of pure black.
“Welcome. I am Rhemus, and this is Kaila,” said the smaller Mikraino.
“I am Lyra, and this is Travis.”
“It is good to finally meet you. You both are deeply embroiled in this matter with Foster, and with the fates,” said Rhemus, observing them closely. Travis had the vulnerable sensation that the two Mikraino could see through his clothing, and through his flesh.
“Are we, now?” Travis answered wryly. “And how is it you three fit into all this?”
Rhemus smiled. Filos then asked them to sit, and they did. Travis was surprised at how comfortable the couch was. It was a pleasant contrast to how he was feeling.
“We are not certain yet how we might fit into ... all of this, but we would like to help you,” Filos finally answered, as he took a seat in his own oversized chair. He gestured to the table in front of the couch; on top of which sat breads, cakes and a carafe of coffee. Travis wasn’t hungry, but he reached for a cake just so that he had something to focus on.
“Why are you interested in helping us?” asked Lyra.
“It is the will of the fates that we do, I think,” answered Rhemus. “And it is my belief that I cannot help my own people until this matter with Liam Foster is resolved.”
“Your people?”
“Yes, there are many like us scattered around the country right now.”
Lyra nodded.
Then Kaila started to twist in her seat. She closed her eyes as if she were looking for something. Then she burst out, “You killed one of them, yourself!”
Rhemus turned his head to Kaila without saying anything, but it was clear to Travis that somehow something was communicated between them with great clarity and urgency.
Kaila drooped her head. “I am sorry.”
“I am also sorry,” offered Lyra. “It is true that I killed one of your people. I hope you will forgive me.”
Rhemus answered, “It was necessary for your survival, or at least, you thought it was at the time. You did it to save Liam.”
Lyra nodded thoughtfully, then added, “And myself.”
Rhemus’s head tilted to one side slightly as he observed her.
“What about me?” Travis protested through the awkward silence, hoping to break the tension.
“What about you?” Lyra answered sarcastically.
The group laughed softly together. Then Lyra looked at Travis. “I did it to save all of us, Travis. I just wanted to point out that it was not only for altruism, or fate, or responsibility. I wanted to save myself, and I killed their friend to do it.”
She turned to the Mikraino again. “I am sorry for the pain I have caused you. I mean no harm to you or your people.”
Travis wanted to change the subject. “How do you know of Liam?”
Kaila turned her searing gaze away from Lyra to answer. “The whole of Jeandania is focused on him. The energy of the people lifts him up. And what is your interest in Liam Foster?”
“I’m not sure,” Travis answered. “I guess I just like the guy.”
“You are searching for something?” asked Rhemus.
“Yes, I am,” Travis answered honestly, “and I was hoping you might help me find it.”
“What is it?”
Travis looked at Lyra, asking her with his eyes if he should disclose anything further.
Lyra answered for him. “It’s an Æhlman Message Box.”
Rhemus closed his eyes a moment. “Ah, now I can see it,” he answered. This seemed a strange answer to Travis.
“What is an Æhlman Message Box?” asked Kaila.
“I know of them from the memory of Bandalanu,” answered Rhemus. “It is a vessel of the fates.”
“Yes, I can see it now, a box of æther,” said Kaila.
Travis was perplexed by their conversation, but his hopes were suddenly lifted. “Will you help me find it?” he asked.
“We will do what we can, but this is not an ordinary object. It cannot be tracked down or possessed.”
“What do you mean?”
Lyra answered, “It is a strange device. It has a will of its own.”
Travis sat back in the soft couch. The others watched him for a moment, and Lyra carried on explaining everything she had previously explained to Travis. Travis listened with half an ear as he reached in his pocket for a piece of paper to fold. He realised fully now what he had only begun to understand over the last weeks. His life had been upended. He retraced his long and winding path, from the family vineyard, to Aunty Jule’s little apartment, to the streets, and the ships. Now he sat with a witch, two little people with eyes of black, a giant man of a dying race, and found himself a co-conspirator to a rebel plot. He sighed a long breath.
“So I have to wait and see if this box finds its way back to me. Is that it?” he finally asked of Lyra. They had been discussing the whereabouts of his box for some time, and reaching no solutions that Travis found helpful.
“Something like that,” Lyra answered.
“I cannot truly see the future, Travis,” Rhemus explained, “but I can see your fate tied both to this box and to Liam Foster. If you follow your heart, and listen for the will of the fates, you will find your destiny.”
“Right,” replied Travis as he placed the folded paper sculpture of a crown on the table beside him. “Listen to the will of the fates, huh? Well, all I can say is that since I can’t chase down this box, I think I’d like to stay with you all for a little while. Maybe I can chip in and help Liam while I await my destiny. I know I can’t go back to my life before that poker game,” Travis looked around, and realised no one knew what he was talking about.
“Long story. Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he explained.
“So you will help us?” Rhemus asked hopefully.
“Yes, if you’ll have me,” Travis confirmed.
Travis was surprised when Lyra leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Travis. You are a very brave man.”
Travis blushed slightly, and tried to sit up straight. “Well, yeah,” he stumbled. “I mean, thanks.”
Filos burst into laughter, setting everyone else into chuckles as well.
Filos put a hand on Travis’s shoulder. “Excellent, I am glad you are comfortable with your role, and we are all united in helping Liam Foster.” Then he addressed everyone in the room. “Now let us discuss what we might be able to do.”
“I might know a way to help him,” Rhemus replied.
“What do you have in mind?” asked Lyra.
“Filos explained to me that there is an obscure rule pertaining to a death sentence. If the person survives the punishment, he is automatically freed, as if it were an act of fate.”
“Yes, that’s true, but it never happens,” replied Travis. “I always thought it was just the last hope for the relatives. You know, as they watch the sentence being carried out they can at least hope the fates will intervene. And if they don’t, well, perhaps it was meant to be after all.”
“That may be true,” offered Filos, “but the law is real. Rhemus, you think you have an idea of how to twist the fates to your will?”
“We are not speaking of something that can be twisted. We are all merely instruments of the fates, but perhaps we may be the instrument needed to help Liam Foster.”
“What about your friends?” Travis asked Lyra.
“What friends?” Filos asked.
Lyra rolled her eyes at Travis and sighed, then turned to Filos. “I’m an Æhlman sister,” she confessed.
“I see. Kaila, you were right,” he answered.
Kaila seemed to be hiding her pride at this compliment. Lyra nodded in understanding, looking into her dark eyes.
“Do you think the Sisterhood will play a part in this?” Filos aske
d.
“They don’t tell me very much, Filos,” she answered, “and they haven’t contacted me about this. My impression is that they have been playing a part all along. The Sisterhood prefers subtle guidance here and there towards major events that they have predicted from the scrolls. Once the events happen, they tend not to interfere. That being said, I would assume there will be sisters there, but they will each have their own instructions, or none.”
“So we can’t rely on them in any case,” Travis said.
“I’m afraid not,” answered Lyra.
“Well, that might not be completely true,” said Filos.
“What do you mean?”
Filos told them all about the meeting in the tavern.
“Wait, was that the same tavern where Lyra sang last night?”
“The very same,” answered Filos.
“And you knew about this?” Travis asked Lyra.
With Footfalls of Shadow Page 26