by J. Naomi Ay
“Why did you go to Loman's house?” I asked Senya, staring back at his silver eyes as best as I could. They were hard to look at spilling light as they did. “Have you been there before?” The boy didn’t respond. He narrowed his eyes at me, so only a thin stream lit the distance between us. He looked as if he would like to take that knife to my throat again.
“Senya came looking for me,” Berkie said, now playing with the vid console.
“Why?” I asked. “Have you ever met him before now?”
“Nope,” Berkie replied, loading up some kind of shooting game. “But I'm his best friend.” Berkie made shooting noises and destroyed a bunch of alien craft. I looked at Loman who stared at his son as if he had just landed on an alien craft.
“Do you know who Senya is?” Loman asked.
“Yep.” Berkie nodded, quite preoccupied.
“Does Senya know who he is?” I asked, glancing from one boy to the next although neither appeared to be paying any attention to me. “Berkie?”
Berkie turned to me for a moment and nodded his head. As I watched him, his image began to fade away. “Berkie?” I said again, but he was no longer there or rather, I was no longer here. In fact, what I was seeing was a flash of light, silver light and then I was in a room, a room that smelled foul with blood and was exceedingly hot. I was starting to see people now, faces and colors swirled around me.
“Loman, take it out of here.” A baby was thrust into my arms. I felt the warm, dead weight of him. “Do something with him until this gets sorted out.” I was running. The baby was bouncing in my arms, but he did not cry. Rucia was here. Her body was large and swollen.
“What am I supposed to do with it?” She was screaming, thrusting the baby back at me. “I can't take him. We're having our own baby in case you've forgotten.”
“Just for a few days, Rucia. Just until this gets sorted out. The Karuts will come get him if we don't hide him.”
“Let them have him! Look at him Loman. He looks just like them. What will the neighbors think? We'll be shunned by everyone. And what's wrong with him? Look at his eyes? No, Loman, I won't do it. I won't! I won't let the Infidel in my house. He'll kill my baby.”
“Where's the boy?” It was the King's voice. I was on the floor in obeisance, and my knee was hurting, shooting pains up my leg.
“Lt. Farman took him. His wife said she will care for him.” It was my voice that I heard speaking.
“I have heard he is strange.”
“His eyes…”
“Yes, and I have heard that things move about him.”
“Yes, Sir. I've heard that too.”
“He has the Infidel's blood.” This was Akan's voice. “Devil's spawn. I told you to kill it when you could, Father.”
“It was not my decision to make, Akan.” The king was leaving. I glanced up and watched his robes sweep away. A whisper of wind passed me as they did. Akan was next to me. His hot breath was in my ear.
“He has strange powers?”
“I don't know,” I said though I did.
“He is an infant of three months and can move things with his mind. What will he be able to do when he is grown?”
“I don't know.”
“Shut up, Loman!” Akan said. “You stupid, Lightie! My father will not make the decision, but I will. Kill it. I order you to kill it.” I looked in Akan's eyes. If I killed the baby, there would be no one to contest Akan's claim. “I order you Loman!” He screamed.
“Sir,” I replied and bit my tongue.
Lt. Farman and I were in the streets of Old Mishnah. It was raining heavily. The skies were crying upon us, and I was soaked to the bone. I was holding the baby inside my slicker, and he was calmly watching me with those spooky silver eyes. In my head, I heard a woman's voice, Lydia's voice.
“Will you take care of my son, Loman?” She asked me. “Always? If something happens to me? Please?”
“Nothing will happen to you, sweet princess,” I replied. “I am always watching over you.”
“I think it's here,” Farman was saying as we were walking down a dark alley. There was a door on the left. There were windows overhead, and we could hear children's voices from them. The alley smelled like shit and vomit and rotted trash. Someone was screaming. The baby reached up with his small hand and touched my face. I should have taken him to Karupatani. I should have let him be among his father's people.
“Take care of him, Loman,” Lydia said. His hand was warm against my face. He had Lydia's hands, her long delicate fingers. His eyes were the same shape too even though the color was strange. He looked like Lydia to me. I memorized his face, his hands and the strange red birthmark on his skull, beneath the silky black hair. Farman was knocking on the door. A woman, a Sainted lady in a wimple was answering.
“A Karupta?” She exclaimed. “Blessed Saint. Shouldn't he be with them?
“Take him,” I said and placed him in her arms. She sighed heavily as if the weight of him were too much to bear. Farman handed her the packet of gold coins.
“A princely sum,” she cackled, shaking it unaware of the irony of her words. “What is his name?”
“Sehron de..,” Farman began, but I interrupted.
“Senya,” I said. “His name is Senya.”
On the way back to the speeder, I shot Farman in the back and left his body in the gutter. No one else, but I would know where the baby was hidden.
“Taner?” Loman was shaking me. I had slumped forward in my seat. Berkie was clear to me again and busy blasting spaceships. Senya was across from me, his silver eyes shining in my face.
“You okay, Taner?” Loman prodded.
I wasn’t sure. I stared at the kid across from me. How many people had already died because of this kid? The Princess, the House Father, Farman, the fat kid and who knew how many others? Maybe Prince Akan was right. Maybe this boy really was the Devil's spawn and the Infidel reborn. Loman wouldn't kill him then, and he wouldn’t kill him now. The boy would live and grow up with his evil powers and weird eyes and the wars would come back to Rehnor and then thousands maybe even millions would die. I had to save everyone from this evil. This was why Loman chose me for this assignment. I leapt from my seat and grabbed the boy’s neck with my hands, determined to break it, to choke his last breath from him.
“Taner!” Loman yanked my arm, but I held fast, feeling the kid go limp in my clutches. “Taner!” Loman pulled on me, and I released the boy expecting him to slump lifeless to the floor but instead I was yanked down and thrust on to my back, the boy's legs straddling me like a vise. My neck burned as his knife slashed through it, the wrist and ankle cuffs long gone.
“Stop it!” Loman yelled, pulling the boy off of me. I clutched my neck, my own blood running through my fingers. Berkie screamed. Senya slashed at Loman and then bolted towards the door, pushing it open while we were still airborne. He jumped out and ran, just as we are landing in the center courtyard of the Palace. The guardsmen awaiting our arrival gave chase and fortunately tackled him. “What the hell got into you?” Loman demanded, clutching his bleeding arm. Berkie whimpered, staring at both of us with wide wet eyes, afraid to speak.
“My neck?” I said. “Is it bad?”
“No,” Loman snapped. “Your stupid head is still on it. You'll live. Get the boy up to his room and wait there for me. Don't let him out and don't try anything else! Berkie, go with Taner.”
“Where are you going, Papa?” Berkie cried.
“I'm just going to get some sealant on this,” Loman said, pinching his skin. “Go on now.”
I didn’t move. My neck stung.
“Taner,” Loman ordered sternly. “If he wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already. Now go!”
“Come on, Berkie,” I said and taking his hand, we debarked the limo and ran across the courtyard to where a few of our guardsmen held a squirming Senya in their grasp. We had just reached them when Berkie pulled up short.
“Look,” he cried and I looked up to see Prince Akan a
pproaching with his retinue.
“Down, Berkie,” I hissed and together we took a knee.
“Well look who we have here,” Akan said loudly, his voice was directed at his companion Lord Phylyp. “The Karut is back.”
"He is indeed!" Phylyp replied joyfully.
“And he's almost all grown up too,” Akan mused. “Hold him steady there and let me see him.” The largest guard, a fellow even bigger than Loman pulled Senya's arms above his head and hung him there for Akan. Akan and Phylyp laughed. “This is how you come to the Palace, Karut? Dressed in rags?” Akan snickered.
“He's very pretty though,” Phylyp smiled. “Don't you think so, Ak? We could have some fun with him.”
“Maybe,” Akan sniffed, sizing the boy up and down.
“His pa was a pretty one too, wasn't he?” Phylyp said curling a tendril of hair around his finger. “Let's see what's underneath those rags.”
“Strip him,” Akan ordered and another guard tugged Berkie’s old clothes off the dangling Senya.
“Oh he is very nice,” Phylyp cooed. “He is a pretty boy.” Senya’s face turned bright red whether from anger or embarrassment. “But Ak, look at his feet!” Phylyp cried. “He's got claws!"
“Blessed Saint," Akan gasped. "What evil has created this boy?"
"Oh he's not evil, Akie," Phylyp said stepping closer. "He's luscious!" Phylyp reached out to touch the boy, but Senya would not have it. Even though he was hanging, suspended in the air by the guardsmen's grasp, Senya swung his foot up and raked those clawed toenails down the side of Phylyp's delicate face. Phylyp shrieked and grabbed at his cheek while the guard yanked Senya backward and then smashed him against the ground, pinning him with his enormous knee.
“What in the hell is going on here now?” Loman roared, coming across the courtyard. His arm was bound in a huge bandage, but he was waving it around like a flag. He raced over to us and snatched the boy out from under the guard.
“Akan? Phylyp?” Loman demanded as if he were king. “What is the meaning of this?” Now he held Senya by the arm, suspending him in midair.
“Look what he has done, Captain Loman,” Akan cried pointing at five long tears in Phylyp's face.
“He is very sorry, Your Royal Highness,” Loman growled. “Aren't you, lad?”
“Fuck you,” Senya spat, twisting and struggling until Loman put his feet back on the ground.
“Wrong answer,” Loman snapped and hauled the boy up about the waist and carried him off.
"You'll be punished for this!" Akan called. “Let’s get you to the infirmary, Phyl. They’ll fix you right up.” Berkie and I raced after Loman before anyone could tell us otherwise.
Loman hauled Senya towards the Big House and up to the third or topmost floor. I had never been in this building and was momentarily awed by the grand marble hallways alone before I even saw inside one of the doors. The doors weren’t numbered. Loman clearly knew where to go and swung the heavy wood door open revealing a magnificent suite of rooms. There was a central sitting area, a huge bedroom with a king size ornate four poster bed, a bathroom with a bathtub the size of a swimming pool and a marble shower that could fit four people, an office, and wardrobes. Each room opened out to the sea with French doors on to a terrace that had steps down to the ocean.
“Wow!” Berkie exclaimed.
“Wow!” I agreed, stunned by the opulence.
“Sit down!” Loman barked and tossed Senya onto a leather sofa. The boy immediately leapt up and headed toward the window which was thankfully locked. He climbed into the window box, huddled there and glared at us with his strange, flashing eyes.
“Get him a robe, Taner,” Loman barked again and so I found the door into the wardrobe and grabbed the first thing I saw that looked like a robe. It was plush black velvet lined in gold silk and embroidered with gold thread. On the left breast, there was a royal crest. I studied it for a moment, fingering it and then glancing around, I realized that this crest was on everything in this room and nearly everything in this suite. In the center of the crest was striking eagle with talons bared overlaid upon two crossed swords. Above the eagle written in Mishnese was the name of the prince and below the same was written in Karupta letters. All of this was surrounded by intertwined gold and silver leaves and topped by a magnificent gold crown.
“Here,” I said holding the robe out to the boy. He glared at me and flashed his silver eyes but made no effort to take it.
“Put it on,” Loman ordered. “You're not going to get any slack here, and you're not going to run away so you might as well realize we are not your enemies. We're here to help you and to keep you alive so quit making that difficult for us.”
“But Taner tried to kill him in the limo,” Berkie said, already searching through the cupboards and refrigerator in the kitchen. He pulled out something that looked like a chocolate torte and stuck his fingers in it. “Yum.”
“Taner forgot his place for a moment,” Loman snapped. “Taner will do his duty now, or he will find his dead ass in a gutter in Old Mishnah. Do you understand me, Taner?”
“Clearly, Captain,” I replied. I glanced over at Senya. Given the choice between Akan and Senya, I would say we were all totally screwed and should be packing our bags for Rozari, but right now I still needed this job.
Senya narrowed his eyes at me.
“Rozari,” he said which was the first utterance from his mouth that didn't include an obscenity.
“Rozari,” I repeated realizing how he came to say this. “You know Captain, this kid can read minds. He can also put thoughts in your mind. He can, in fact, take stuff out of your mind and put it in mine. For instance, that little mess with Lt. Farman that put his wife and kids on a widow's pension for the last twelve years.”
“What do you know about that?” Loman turned abruptly on me.
“I know he found his ass in a gutter in Old Mishnah,” I said, wishing I had a cig, and suddenly feeling incredibly drained from having been up all night. I sat down on the sofa. “In the limo, before I decided it would probably be better not to have this kid around, I was entertained by a vision of young Loman and Farman hiding a baby in an orphanage.” Loman stared at me then slowly turned back to the boy.
“How do you know all this?” He demanded. Senya had a cig between his fingers and took a long drag on it.
“Hey, where'd he get that?” I cried considering the boy was naked a moment ago, and there weren't any cigs in the pockets of the robe.
“How do you know about Farman?” Loman demanded louder, and I wasn’t sure if he was yelling at me or at Senya.
“Senya says it's in your head, Papa,” Berkie replied from the kitchen. He was drinking a soda now having made a mess of the cake. “He said there is nothing worthwhile in my head though,” and Berkie broke into peals of laughter, snorting the soda out his nose. Senya smiled a little, narrowing his eyes and blowing smoke into the air.
“This kid is creeping me out,” I mumbled, finding an empty pack of cigs in my own pocket.
The door opened just then, and the Lord Chamberlain looked in. I jumped to my feet.
“Everything alright in here?” Dickon, the Lord Chamberlain said. I almost laughed. Peachy, I wanted to say but didn’t. The Lord Chamberlain was a small wiry man with thick glasses. He was dwarfed by his fancy robes and ruby medallion.
“Fine thank you, Dick,” Loman replied with a forced smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Let me see our young man.” Lord Dickon came into the room and peered at all of us. “You're not him,” he pointed to Berkan. Berkan nodded to the window box. Dickon focused on Senya. His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Have you no clothing for him, Loman?”
“He's bigger than we anticipated,” Loman replied huffily. “We are waiting for the valets.”
“Hmm,” Dickon frowned. “It is the correct boy. I can tell just by looking at him. Image of his father although you can see there is something of Lydia in him, as well. You will need to cut his hair. It
is far too long and unruly. I dare say, His Majesty won't like it at all.”
“What time is his audience, Dick?” Loman asked and rubbed his brow.
“Four,” Dickon replied. “And then the King has scheduled a presser for seven. He wants to do some balcony waving but perhaps we shall get lucky, and it will rain. I hate balcony waving.”
Loman grumbled something unintelligible and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Well then,” Dickon said. “Carry on and tell those valets to speed it up. I should like him to wear Dress Blacks for his audience and presser. Loman, get the boy some food. He looks terribly hungry. Goodbye then.” Dickon went out the door and then a moment later, opened it again and stuck his head in.
“Yes?” Loman asked.
“I just wanted to say Happy Birthday, Your Royal Highness,” Dickon smiled. “And welcome home.” The door shut again.
“Who was he talking to?” Berkie asked, unwrapping an ice cream bar. “Whose birthday is it?”
“Senya's birthday,” Loman replied and rolled his eyes. “He's twelve today.”
“Cool,” Berkie said. “I'll be twelve, too, in three months and four days. Do we get cake?”
“Come here, Berkie.” Loman sat heavily on the couch across from me. “Stop eating and let me tell you why we are here.” Berkie quickly ate his ice cream and then sat down next to his father. Loman put his arm around his son and spoke to him, pointedly ignoring the boy in the window box. “Senya's going to live here now,” Loman said. “This is his home. This was his mother's apartment before she died and now it is his.”
“Why does he have to live here?” Berkie asked.
“Well, Berkie,” Loman cleared his throat. “It's a long story, but for now I'll just tell you the King is Senya's grandfather. His mama was a beautiful princess named Lydia and his father is a prince of Karupatani named Sorkan. Senya's other grandfather is the King of Karupatani. Senya's real name is Sehron de Kudisha, and the Karuptas call him the MaKennah ka Rehnor which means something like the Savior of Rehnor. Can you imagine Senya saving Rehnor?”
Berkie broke into peals of laughter. “That's nutty!”