An unexpected knock on the door snapped Bedic’s attention away from the book. He and Sinesh both looked over at the door.
A young Cleric poked his head in, “Master cleric, you have some visitors. They're rather...” He looked over at Bedic's granddaughter with raised brow. “Insistent.”
Bedic closed his book. “Hun, I think its time for Bed.” He waved the young Cleric into the room. “Would you take her back to my quarters?”
“I'm not done, Grandpa.” Sinesh protested.
The young Cleric knelt down by the girl. “Come on sweetie.” He gestured towards the door as he tried ushering her out of the room.
“I’m not done, its gonna get all messed up!” She repeated her protest.
“I’ll make sure no one touches it. Good night dear.” Bedic said with a smile.
She made a frustrated grunt then followed the young cleric out of the room. He waited for her then closed the door behind them. A moment later the door opened again. Three large, well dressed, Zoen men entered. They looked like the type that came to discuss potential investments to add to the churches portfolio. Only, Bedic knew that wasn’t why they’d come.
The man in the middle stepped forward.“Good Evening Master Cleric Bedic. I hope we aren’t catching you at an inconvenient moment. We were looking for someone and hoped you might be of assistance.”
Bedic didn’t get up to greet them.
“I am the House Lord Valance and these are my associates Lord Barnus and Lord Whiting. I won’t…”
“I know who you are.” Bedic interrupted.
Bedic’s mind flooded with memories. Flashes of a struggle. Book shelves knocked to the ground. Swords drawn. Blood. His father! A dark pressure swelled inside him. It felt as though his skin was stretching, boiling from the inside. His brow began to bead with drops of sweat. The old man’s body twitched uncontrollably as tried to regain control. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to see the three men in front of him die.
“It would appear that you do.” answered Valance.
Bedic’s frail body began to tremble more violently. He tried to control his thoughts, thoughts where his hands wrapped around Valance’s thick neck, or where he took the dagger from the top drawer in his desk and ran it through Valance’s heart. The images came, and he could do nothing to stop them.
Valance stepped further into the room. “Might I offer that we did not kill your father? He threw himself off a cliff in order to prevent us from retrieving what he had stolen from us. We had no intention of depriving him of his life. Killing would not have served our purpose.”
Bedic spoke, slowly, trying to steady the tremble in his voice. “And my grandfather? Did he throw himself off a cliff as well?” More memories of that day flooded his mind. He was just a child, but he could still remember the day his father was killed, the day his grandfather was killed, the day his mother took them away from their home, the day Lord Valance visited their school. His mother refused to tell him about it until he was much older, thinking that he’d been too young. He wasn’t. He remembered everything.
Valance cut a disapproving glance over at Barnus. “I’m truly sorry for your loss Master Cleric. It was an awful outcome of a most unfortunate day. I didn’t kill the School Master. I promise you. In fact, I had come to seek his council. Unfortunately, there were other parties involved which lead to some complications. It was not my intention to cause harm to anyone.
“You are right to your anger. My interest in them, however inadvertent, did lead to the death of both men. But that is not why we’re here today. You can trust that I would not have come, given our history, if it were at all avoidable, but it is not, unfortunately.”
Bedic listened to him speak and watched him take another step towards his desk. He tried to calm his mind, to give the impression that Valance’s attempt at an apology was working. Meanwhile, he slipped his right hand into his top drawer and felt his way through the clutter until his finger tips felt the cold metal of his dagger.
Valance continued, “Our country finds itself in a bit of a predicament. There’s something that we’re looking for that we believe would prevent things from escalating. If we’re not able to find it.” Valance took another step forward. “It would mean war.”
Bedic watched Valance’s feet as he took three casual steps closer, bringing him a foot beyond the other side of Bedic’s desk, just within striking distance. He brought the knife as close as he could to the front of the drawer without it being seen. His heart pounded furiously as he deliberated.
“Will you help us?” Valance asked.
Bedic snapped. Before he knew what he was doing, he had yanked the knife out of the drawer and lunged at Valance’s heart. The adrenalin made him feel like a projectile shooting through the air at its target. He watched in slow motion as the tip of his blade approached the soft fabric of Valance’s suit.
Then Pain. He wasn’t supposed to feel pain. He looked down and, to his horror, saw that his arm, twisted unnaturally, probably broken, was pinned to the table by a large hand. He collapsed downward onto the desk as the shock overtook him. How could he have been so stupid? One of the other two must have seen him take out the knife.
Valance’s face soured. “Thank you Barnus.” He took the knife out of Bedic’s arthritic old hand.
Whiting came around and pinned down Bedic’s other arm.
“Aaargh,” Bedic whimpered.
Valance poked the tip of Bedic’s knife down on Bedic’s nose, just hard enough not to break the skin. “Most unfortunate.”
Bedic strained against the two holding him down. His head and chest held down over his desk clutter was causing pain on top of his injured arm. They were holding him down hard enough that he was pretty sure something underneath was cutting into him. “Please!” He begged.
Valance twisted the tip of the knife playfully. “I had hoped we’d be able to find a mutually beneficial outcome to our reunion after all these years. We help you, you help us. But now I see that was a bit unrealistic of me to expect. The most we could hope for now is to avoid a repeat of the same dreadful tragedy suffered by you and your family the first time we met. You have a daughter now, do you not?”
“Please,” Bedic begged. “What do you want?”
“The man who visited you a day ago. Mr. Raj Handers, What do you know of him? Tell us everything.” Valance said.
Bedic’s voice wavered, it was raspy, starting to go. He could smell the intense salty odor of his own blood. He could feel it dripping down his chest under his tunic. “He came here looking for his missing son. He thought he might have been with my daughter. She works in the hospital. She was the boy’s nurse. He thought she might have taken him.
“Taken him? Now why would he think that?” Valance asked.
“My daughter and the man’s son both disappeared at the same time. Right after a fight. The man and my daughter disagreed on some terms of care for the boy.”
“Did she take him?” Valanced asked.
“I don’t know. It’s possible.” Bedic wheezed. Lord Whiting let him up slightly.
“Where would they have gone?” Valanced asked.
Bedic took a deep breath. He didn’t want to answer that. He tried to think of some possible answers that wouldn’t give her away. “Argh…”
Lord Barnus pushed his injured arm further in an unnatural direction. The pain cascaded down his spine.
“She would’ve taken him to Shishkameen,” He cried!
“Why?” Valance asked.
“She thinks she’ll find something there that’ll heal the boy.”
“And what would that be?”
“Red Leaves.” Bedic whispered.
Valance laughed. “She thinks Red Leaves is still there? Why would she think that?”
“Because I taught her through her childhood that it was still there, Bedic admitted.
“Why?” Valance asked.
“I wanted her to have something concrete to believe in. Some
thing tangible. And…” He paused to think of how to phrase his response. “I wanted her to be proud of who she was and where she came from. It's not easy growing up different from everyone around you. A Botann in a Zoen country doesn’t make for an easy childhood.”
“Interesting,” Valance added. “Well perhaps, we should go find her.”
That was what Bedic was afraid of. “She doesn’t know anything. She’s acting on a stupid lie that I told her as a child and never corrected as an adult.”
“And what of this Handers fellow? Did he believe your daughter? Was he interested in finding Red Leaves?”
Bedic thought carefully about how to answer. He didn’t want anyone to get hurt. “He forbid my daughter from reading stories from the Old Books to his son. I don’t think they shared the same beliefs.” He struggled. If he said nothing more, this Lord Valance and his mercenaries would probably go after his daughter instead of Raj. And what would they do to her once they found her? The thought filled his heart with dread. But if he said more, they might choose to go after Mr Handers. This was unfair.
“Yet…” He had to protect his daughter. That was his first and highest obligation, wasn’t it? He thought. “He was particularly interested in a certain book while he was here.”
“Which book?” Valance asked.
Whiting let the old man sit up enough to point out. Valance followed Bedic’s trembling outstretched hand to a large book sitting on a pedestal. He closed it to see the cover. It was a green leather with an image of the Token engraved in the center.
Valance spun back to Whiting and motioned for them to go. “Tie him up!” He looked at Bedic before heading out the door. “Lets go find them shall we!”
-
Sinesh stuck her head out past a heavy wooden door that she had cracked open and scanned the hallway for adults. Nothing in either direction. She had heard some yelling and load banging and wanted to see what was going on. She’d never seen a Cleric yell before and thought that might be kind of fun to see.
She tip toed into the hallway towards the noises. A muffled voice echoed off the stone walls from around a corner. "Stay away from her! She doesn't know anything about this!” That was her Grandpa. She’d never heard him raise his voice like that. Her tip toeing turned into a quiet run.
She heard another voice from the same place, much younger. “Well, It wouldn't hurt to ask, would it?” It didn’t sound like any of the Clerics she knew.
She made it to the corner of the hallway and stopped. The loud footsteps of boots bounced off the walls. It sounded like there was a bunch of people. And they were leaving.
She peaked around the corner. “Gah!” She covered her mouth to stop herself from making too much noise and whipped her head back around to safety. Her Grandfather was all tied up, and they were dragging him down the hallway. Why would they do that? She wondered. She could hear his muffled screams.
She could feel her heart racing inside her chest. It was telling her what to do. Grandpa needed her. And she had to help. She waited until she could barely hear their footsteps then turned and followed them down the hallway.
-
Emret watched the massive columns of the Botann Clan’s Palace as they grew from small sticks in the distance to great towers above them. Moslin was pushing his wheel chair at a quick pace. He didn’t think she like the idea of being out with him at night.
Moslin slowed as they passed under the towering entry way ceiling held up by the giant columns. It was certainly an intimidating way to enter a building. Not the friendly welcome he’d hoped for.
Before they reached the massive wooden doorway, it creaked open, flooding the entryway with a warm light. A small Botann man hoped around the door, holding it open for them.
“Clan Lord Benthem is expecting you. Please follow me.” He smiled and gave them a polite bow as he motioned them inside.
She pushed Emret’s chair inside, a bit hesitantly. The foyer was like nothing Emret had ever seen. There were plants everywhere; in pots, climbing up the walls, in what looked like cut outs in the floor filled with soil. Where the walls weren’t covered with actual plants they had painted them to look as though they were covered. It gave the overall impression of standing in a forest.
The doorman led them down a long hallway, stopping at a large set of lightly stained wooden doors. He opened it and gestured for them to enter. “Please have a seat, the Clan Lord will be with you shortly.”
They entered the large room encircled with fancy chairs of the same nearly white wood and stopped close to the exit. Moslin turned Emret to face her and took a seat. In the middle of the room sat a large table of a strange almost perfectly white wood. They could fit a lot of people in this room, and around that table, he thought.
Almost as soon as they had sat down, a much larger Botann man came through a door on the other side of the room. He motioned for them to follow him as he crossed the room.
“Please come with me.” He smiled and bowed politely.
Down another brightly light and colorfully decorated hallway, they found themselves in front of another set of doors. These were larger than the first and almost as large as the entry doors. Their new escort opened them and signaled for them to enter.
“The Clan Lord will see you now.”
Beyond the door was a long hall. Several rows of seats lined the walls on both sides leading to an elevated bench at along the far wall. In the center of the far wall, a single Botann man spread his large body out across an oversized throne like chair. He motioned for them to approach him.
“Please, please, come.” Clan Lord Bentham said.
Moslin hurried to cross the room, acting as though she were afraid to keep the man waiting. Emret chuckled. This was more excitement than he’d had in a long time.
“What?” She asked in response to his laugh.
He smiled back at her. “Nothing.”
Bentham leaned forward in his massive chair sending his multiple layers of flowing robes drooping down over the bench. “Moslin! Good to see you. How's your father?”
“Grumpy and stubborn. So I guess that means he's healthy as ever.” She replied.
The Clan Lord laughed.
“Thank you for seeing us.” She said.
“Of course! What can I do for you.”
“Well...” She looked down at Emret. “We need to secure passage to Shishkameen.”
“You and the boy?” Bentham asked.
“Yes.”
“I don't supposed you have any travel papers for the boy?” He asked.
Moslin bent over to whisper in Emret’s ear. “I told you this wasn't going to be easy.”
“I'll be honest with you, Moslin. Even with papers, a Botann woman traveling with a Zo boy is going to attract attention.” He put down the pencil he’d been fiddling with. “I assume that's why you're here.”
Moslin nodded.
Bentham shifted in his seat. “Why are you taking this boy back to the old city?”
“The boy is very sick. He needs a treatment that the doctors here won't do here. A Botann treatment.”
“And his parents?”
She looked at Emret. He twisted to look back at her, a look of pleading on his face. “Please,” he mouthed.
“He has no one who will help him.” She answered.
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed to slits. “What does that mean, exactly?”
She didn’t answer.
“Moslin, forgive me, but I'm a little concerned that this might have more to do with your daughter than with this little boy.”
“Sir, Lord,” Emret interrupted, not exactly sure how to address the Clan Lord. “Please! I asked Moslin to do this. I…” he stammered. “I... If I stay in my hospital bed and do nothing… I’ll just get worse. This is my chance… to do something other than wait.”
The Clan Lord stared at Emret, twisting a translucent green hair tendril in his fingers, pensively. He glanced over to Moslin.
“And without this Bot
ann treatment?”
Moslin looked down at Emret, her mouth open to speak but silent.
“I know what's going to happen.” Emret said, looking back at her. “My binding is failing. When that happens, I'll die.”
The Clan Lord sat back heavily. “Yes, rather unpleasant. I'll make the arrangements. You'll travel as part of the next procession going into the old city.” He rubbed his forehead pensively.
“Emret, you are an impressive young man. I wish you the greatest success on your venture. If there’s anything else I can do for you, please ask.”
“Thank you.” He nodded.
-
The next morning Moslin and Emret hurried to the river dock early wanting to avoid as much attention as possible. They found the designated meeting place on the pier next to a large river ship without too much trouble. They found a quiet corner then waited. People rushed up and down the loading ramps carrying barrels, crates and luggage.
A crowd of Botann Clansmen wearing a reddish brown robes pushed their way through the other travelers and appeared to be headed towards them. A moment later they were fully engulfed in a crowd of reddish brown. One of the Clansmen stopped in front of them.
“Moslin?” He asked.
“Yes.” She nodded.
He had several extra of the same reddish brown robes draped over his arm. He handed one to her and one to Emret.
“Last chance. You sure you want to do this?” Moslin asked.
Emret beamed, a smile spread from ear to ear.
“I'll take that as a yes.” She smiled back.
“Put these on before we board.” The Clansmen said quietly. “Once we're on the ship you'll need to stay below deck, unfortunately.”
“What do we do if the ship is boarded?” She asked.
“Processional ships don't get boarded. Just stay below deck and you'll be fine.” He answered.
Handers and Rinacht stood at the back of a long line of travelers that coiled back and forth in front of the ticketing office. Even though the city’s river port was extensive, the majority of the travel was commercial freight. There was a relatively limited amount of passenger traffic. Small enough that it could all be accommodated through this one large station. But if the line was any indication, Handers thought, more stations might be on the way.
Red Leaves and the Living Token Page 9