Red Leaves and the Living Token

by Benjamin David Burrell

  He watched her stormed away down the hall and felt a terrible weight of regret pulling on him. He knew as soon as the words had left his mouth that it wasn’t really what he wanted. He wanted to call her back, to apologize, but it was too late. What he said could not be unsaid.

  -

  Lord Valance stared through the thick glass separating him from a plain white room beyond. A bare skinned creature roughly the same size and shape as a Zo adult male raced back and forth from wall to wall, keeping its attention on Lord Valance through the glass.

  Without warning it leapt at the glass, snapping its teeth viciously. The impact reverberated through the room with a sickening boom. The creature crumpled into the glass, its face and neck twisting and contorting, then fell to the floor.

  Lord Valence and his two companions jerked back in reaction.

  A Doctor in a white lab coat stepped up behind the men. Lord Valance turned to acknowledge him, shaking his hand. “Hello Doctor Brite.”

  The Doctor turned his attention to the creature. “From what we can tell, the damage is irreversible.”

  Valance turned back to the glass as well, stepping forward to see the creature slowly getting up from the floor.

  “How many?” he asked.

  “This is the first to completely lose his binding. Half a dozen more aren't far behind. We’ve recorded nearly a thousand that have begun to show signs.” The doctor answered.

  Valance turned to the Lord Whiting next to him. “Call the House Lords. We need to talk.”

  -

  Lord Valance and his companions, Lord Whiting and Barnus, followed a house servant and an accompanying array of clans animals through a vast, dimly lit chamber. They kept their distance. Domesticated under the strict control of clans or not, he still found the presence of large cats unnerving. And typically, large clan cats weren’t kept for cleaning or running messages. They had one purpose socially, and that was aligned to their strengths in nature. There were at least 3 leopards, half a dozen male lions and few panthers. One of the panthers buried in the middle of the group let out a low pitched snarl and swat his large front paw at another large cat who snarled in reply.

  The house servant stopped. “Alexia, no!” He reprimanded the unruly panther. “Come.” He opened a large leather pouch hanging from his waist, pulled out a large piece of dried Manea and pushed it into her mouth.

  “My apologies,” the house servant said, turning to Valance briefly before continuing down the chamber.

  What did the High Clan Lord Mar think he’d come to do? Valance thought. Rob him? He turned his attention back to his footsteps. He liked to know how far he was from exit at any given moment. Especially in the dark, surrounded by a pack of deadly animals.

  The chamber they were crossing was impressive. Massive stone columns rose up into the blackness above them, holding some sort of stone arched ceiling he was sure, even though he couldn’t see it. Either the room was too big for them to keep adequately lit or they wanted their visitors to feel a bit uncomfortable. Probably a bit of both. He noted the red flags and other red decor displaying the crest of the High Clan. Other than those few bits of color the hall was rather austere. No furniture, rugs or anything to indicate the hall was in use for anything specific. No windows either, which made it slightly suspicious and more uncomfortable.

  He thought it remarkable that after so many years in dealing with the Lord Mar that he’d never actually been to his home. Mar had always come to him.

  They crossed the threshold into a more brightly lit and comfortably furnished room. Here the ceiling was clearly visible as well as a thin balcony circling the room. A small scattering of men stood watching from the balcony. In the far corner, Mar reclined against an impressive array of over sized, multi colored pillows. He was dressed in an evening robe with a pipe in one hand and a book in the other. A confusing mixed message, he thought. Apparently, his visit didn’t warrant enough attention for the man put on clothes. And yet enough attention make sure Valance was aware of his security.

  The Servant crossed the room in front of them to announce their arrival. The High Clan Lord didn’t respond in the slightest. His attention remained with his book, his pipe popping into his mouth for a suck, oblivious to the men who had just arrived.

  “Have a seat,” he muttered.

  Valance gritted his teeth. “Where are the other Clan Lords?”

  Mar dropped his book and looked up for the first time. “I’ll hear what you have to say. But I can’t compel any one else to listen.”

  That of course was the complete opposite of the truth. If Mar had requested, the other clan Lords were indeed compelled to attend. Mar was obviously not as sympathetic to him as he had hoped. He thought the disturbing evidences that he had sent to Mar via Lord Ranth would persuade him of the seriousness of the situation. Instead, Mar had greeted him as though he’d come asking for money. There must be some sort of political maneuvering behind this. Political maneuvering was the exact thing he had hoped to avoid.

  “Clan Lord Ranth presented you the report from my orchards I hope,” Valance asked.

  “I’ve read the report, yes.”

  “And the medical review of the incident at the hospital?”

  “Of course,” he said turning back to his book.

  Valance stared at him with a look of consternation. He was not used to being treated in this way. In fact, he didn’t think he’d been treated with such disrespect since he was a child.

  “You'll forgive me Clan Lord, but you seem a little more at ease about this than I anticipated.”

  “At ease? You insult me. I am fully aware and alarmed by this turn of events. What would you like me to do? Throw myself to the floor while I scream and cry and beg for your help? Is that what you came here for, to see me make a mockery of myself?”

  Valance smiled. The Clan Lord was showing his intentions. They were not here to talk about how to deal with the crisis. They were here to jockey for position.

  “Let me ask you this, my good and kind Lord Valance. How long have you been aware of this developing shortage? And why have you chosen today as the day to make us suddenly aware of it?”

  “I assure you, we have not delayed in making you aware of this problem.” Valance said.

  “Haven’t you? These are your orchards we’re talking about. This crisis has developed under your direct supervision. If you yourself are only now aware of it then, I beg your pardon, but you’re a bigger fool than I supposed.”

  Lord Barnus pushed aside his robe to reveal the hilt of his sword. He grasped it firmly. Valance shot him a glance. Barnus relaxed his grip.

  “What is this?” Mar jumped to his feet. “You come into my house bearing weapons?”

  The men watching from the balcony had drawn and aimed weapons.

  “I apologize for my overly zealous companions. I must travel with protection at all times as I’m sure you can understand.”

  Mar stepped towards Valance, pushing his large protruding belly right into Valance’s thin waste.

  “This problem is a reflection of what you’ve become Lord Valance! You’re own incompetence has allowed this to happen. And now you come here expecting us to shoulder the burden of consequence. You want us to help you fix this. Yet, while you’ve sat in your soft palace high above this people, forgetting your duty to the very people who put you in that palace, we’ve remained here on the ground with out missing a day of work. No disruption of service. The mechanics of this city have remained in perfect order.”

  Valance stepped back.

  “I applaud you for your diligent, uninterrupted, service to this city. It is this reason, in fact, that we’ve come to you first. We have prepared a mitigation plan to give us the time to grow the needed alternate supply without causing irreparable damage to this city and every other city. I feel you and your clans are essential to this plan. Not in an effort to shift burden to you but to offer you shelter from the storm that is most certainly to come. Because you provide ess
ential services to this city, the purpose of our plan is to ensure your services are not interrupted.”

  Mar relaxed slightly, dropping his arms to his side and unclenching his fists.

  “I will hear your plan.”

  Lord Whiting handed Mar a thin booklet.

  “Here are the details. To put it simply, the supply shortage is projected to reach %50 with in two years. The markets, left own their own, will starve the poor to feed the fearful rich. Everyone who can afford it will hoard to protect their future. Everyone else will... struggle. You and I both know that if those with money are the only ones left to survive, unfortunately, our society will not. Those with wealth as a group do not possess the full gamut of experience, practical knowledge and skill required to maintain a functioning society. The wealthy need the tradesmen and the clansmen.

  “The wealthy will ensure their own survival. Them we need not worry about. The tradesmen and clansmen, however, need to be protected. We must have a rationing plan. Rich and poor. That evaluates the most vital parts of our economy and protects them. Our food and water systems. Transportation. Animal controllers. The things on which life depends must be protected from the whims of the market.”

  Mar takes a deep breath and whistles as he exhales slowly through his nose, staring pensively at the ground. “I’m inclined to agree with you.”

  “I’ve called a hearing before the senate. Will you support me?” Valance asked.

  “In return for our support you will protect the interests of the clans in this rationing system?” Mar asked.

  “Of course” Valance said.

  “And it’ll be you who makes this judgments on who is to live and who is to die? You will say this man is vital, and this man is not?” Mar said.

  “That is what I propose.” Valance said.

  “And what if the Senate approves your plan but does not approve you as the manager of it. There is unprecedented risk in this rationing plan. Whom ever we support in this action must be the sure candidate to win Senate appointment. If we tied our boats to the losing team, the potential repercussions would be unimaginable.

  “I will speak plainly to you Lord Valance because I feel we must be perfectly clear on this point. While I believe your plan has merit, I do not believe you are the man to bring it to the Senate. I do not believe you would win popular support. My friend, you are not the young man I once knew and quite honestly, feared.

  “I suggests that you and I both align ourselves with another Senator, someone already strong enough to gaining the necessary support. Allow that person to present the measure. I have a few names I could suggest.

  -

  Lord Whiting sat forward as Valance and Barnus settled into their seats. The Carriage driver closed the door. A moment later they felt the jolt of motion.

  "Three of the Clans will support any plan we put forward," Lord Whiting began.

  Lord Valance took in the information as he tapped his foot patiently.

  "Three are middle ground, which means they won't go against their own. The other four are against us." Lord Barnus finished.

  Valance sank further into the soft leather of his seat. "The Senate review will be difficult." He let out an exhausted breath.

  His mind pulled back to the conversation with the Clan Lord Mar. It was political maneuvering at its finest. The Clans would spare no opportunity to reposition themselves with greater advantage. They’d agree to his plan but not to his leadership? Convenient.

  He’d been foolish to assume political aspirations would’ve been set aside in light of the potential crisis. Foolish, yes, but he felt it was more than that. This was the first real attempt to exercise his influence in a great while. The first time he’d had to ask anyone for anything. The asking was bad enough, the result of that asking was horrid.

  Twenty years ago no man would have dared directly oppose him the way the Clan Lord just had. Sure they might’ve talked in quiet corners, rally numbers to mount an opposition. But they’d face him as a group. This single man had called him weak to his face and simultaneously proved it at the same time.

  How did this happen? He wondered.

  Going up against the Senate now seemed like a complete waste of time. Or worse, it could further expose his lack of influence. Those outside the inner circles of government may still respect and fear him. A public display of disrespect could destroy what ever standing he may have left. That would have a directly negative impact on his business dealings, his ability to negotiated contracts, acquire more land at a favorable price.

  If his plan was to be effective, he’d need to start putting things into place now. There was no time for this political battle. Couldn’t Mar see he was trying to avoid catastrophe, the collapse of their society?

  For now, he’d have to risk calling a hearing with the Senate. He should at least have that much influence left. In the mean time, he’d have to start putting together a plan to circumvent their authority. There had to be a way to get around them.

  "We've received," Lord Barnus interrupted, "information that might be of relevance."

  Valance continued tapping his foot, half listening.

  "Some one came forward, "Barnus continued, "albeit, asking for money, but seemed to have very specific information about the Token. He knew exactly what it looked like."

  Valance looked up.

  Handers pushed aside a pile of papers to make room on the small table for a plate of snack cakes he’d brought. The room was so small it was hard to keep it from getting cluttered.

  “Good morning. Sorry I’m a little late.” He tidied up the rest of the table a bit.

  “Emret?” He turned towards the unusually quiet hospital bed.

  Empty!

  That’s odd, he thought. He didn’t remember any scheduled appointments this morning. He made a reactionary glance under the bed. Nothing. Was he really that distracted that he’d forget a doctor’s appointment? Emret wouldn’t take it well if he did.

  He pushed open the bathroom door. Again nothing. Maybe they pulled him out to clean the room or change the bed sheets? He wondered. He stopped at the nurses station down the hall where three plump ladies sat behind a high curved counter top chatting. “Excuse me,” he interrupted.

  One of the closest ladies broke from her conversation and looked over at him, obviously annoyed. “Yes?”

  “My son Emret isn’t in his room. Could you tell me where he might be?”

  “Emret? Let me check.” She sorted through a stack of folder on the desk, stopped at one and pulled it out. After a quick glance at the pages added, “His only appointment for today is later this evening. He should be there.”

  She put the folder back and smiled. As if to say, any other questions?

  “Well, he isn’t in there.” He stared back at her, expecting her to make a little more effort in trying to figure out where he might be.

  Instead, she folded her arms. “I’m sorry, I don’t know where else he’d be.”

  “OK, which Nurse is assigned to him right now?”

  She looked up at a board on the wall with columns of names. “That would be Moslin, but…” She paused.

  “But?” Raj said, raising his brow.

  “She hasn’t shown up for her shift yet.” The nurse continued.

  One of the other nurses sitting further down near the end of the station turned in her chair. “Oh, I was supposed to tell you that she was gonna come in late today. She had a church meeting.”

  “So who’s covering her shift?” The Nurse sitting in front of Hander’s asked.

  “I told her I would.” The nurse at the end answered.

  “When was the last time you check in on Emret?” Handers asked her.

  She turned toward the board on the wall with the names and giggled. “Oh. I guess I didn’t see him on her list.”

  The nurse in front of Handers suddenly looked confused, then concerned. She turned back to Handers.

  “I'm sorry, Mr Handers. Let me find out who saw him las
t and at what time.”

  “Did Moslin come in at all today?” Raj asked the Nurse who was covering her shift.

  “She did. She came in for a few minutes, just to grab a few things.” She answered.

  Handers took the card out of his wallet that Moslin had given him earlier. On the back was a schedule of services. Sure enough there was one mentioned this morning. Maybe she took him with her.

  “Thank you ladies. I’ll be back later.”

  “But Mr Handers…” The Nurse in front of him called after him.

  -

  He wound through the streets quickly, following the directions on the back of the card. He turned the last corner to find the ancient stone church rising up above him. Then his stomach sank as the realization hit him. Starting on each side of the church, a high stone wall stretched to the end of the block in both direction. The same high stone wall that he’d seen just a few nights before. The school grounds! This church was sitting on the back side of it. A sudden wave of anger flashed over him. What possible connection could this church and this school have with his son? With Moslin?

  He wandered past the large stone columns of the Church's foyer and stopped beside the over sized double doors leading into the chapel. The pews were half filled with a sea of green Botann heads. A quiet, mostly Botann, congregation sat and listened to an elderly Cleric offer his sermon.

  Handers scanned the back of the crowd for Moslin. It was impossible to tell from behind. Botanns, he thought in contempt, had too much natural camouflage, to many natural appendages obscuring any recognizable features.

  He moved quietly to the back of the congregation and took a seat. His eyes moved over the crowd again. Nothing. Where was she? He thought. She had to be here. There was no were else that made sense.

  After the services concluded, the congregation filtered past him, allowing him to get a clear view of each face. The crowd flowed past him and started to thin. Yet he still hadn’t seen her. After the last of them passed save a few still standing by the pews talking, it was clear that she wasn’t there. How utterly frustrating! He thought. Where in the world had she taken him? He tried to release his clenched fist in an effort to temper his anger.