by D. D. Chant
Philip’s fist pounded the arm of his chair. He wanted news of his son; reliable news that he could believe in, not the second-hand platitudes of Councillor Ladron’s minions.
He wanted facts, not the reams of paperwork that landed on his viewer every morning. Never ending details about the state of the Va Dic Toban residence when the authorities had gained entry, the tracking of the truck that had been used in the escape, and the daring hijack of a Tula drone.
The more he read of what had supposedly happened the more he doubted its truth. It sounded like a novel, not real life at all.
Ben kidnapped?
Unheard of!
Taken to the Una territories?
Whatever for?
He could have believed it if there had been some demand or talk of ransom, but there had been nothing!
No demand.
No statement of intent.
Not even a short transmission claiming responsibility.
There had been nothing at all, only silence.
Chanpter Twenety-Three
The Una
Firelight flickered warmly through the room. Outside, the moan of the wind could be heard, along with the light patter of raindrops against the window panes. It was a large room, and a faint musty smell hung in the air, giving it a heady flavour of antiquity. Heavy tomes lined the walls and were scattered in seemingly random piles over every available surface. Small and large, their titles ranged from the obscure to the well known, from weighty literary narratives to more light hearted works of time passing fiction.
Large armchairs flanked the open fireplace, their soft leather shining luminously in the glow of flames. Worn chairs, sagging tiredly, that promised the most voluptuous of comforts. The room had a quiet aura of peace and safety. It had not seen altercation or dispute. Indeed, to introduce such unruly elements into such a haven of tranquillity would have been tantamount to heresy.
Elder Headman Amajit stood before the fire and stirred the heated coals with a poker. This was his personal study, his refuge, a place that only the most trusted of his fellow men saw. It was his sanctum when he wished to retire from the arguments and strife that, as Elder Headman, it was his job to intercede in.
“How is Rem?”
His question was directed at the young man who sat in the second armchair.
“Well, I think. There has been much discomfort, and mistrust simmers below the surface, but Rem and Dam’sel Aya attempt to form peaceful relations. Rem has even taken to dining with her Tula foster-family.”
Elder Headman Amajit smiled.
“I am pleased to see that Rem shows such sincerity.” He eased himself slowly down in to his chair with a grunt of exertion. “And what is your view of these Tula people, Shin?”
Shin was thoughtful, staring into the depths of his cup.
“They are not so very different from us. They care for Dam’sel Aya greatly, and wish her to be safe. For her sake they have tried to accept our customs, and put aside their mistrust. Things do not always run smoothly; one of her stepbrothers, Penn, has taken Rem into dislike. Unfortunately Rem feels the same antagonism.”
Elder Headman Amajit cast an experienced eye over the young man sitting across from him.
“What troubles you, Shin?”
The young man looked up, startled, and Elder Headman Amajit laughed softly.
“I have known you since before you could walk, Shin, and have tried to give you guidance. Do you not think I can tell when you are unsure that the path you have taken is correct?”
Shin smiled briefly.
“I have ceased to be surprised by the extent of your knowledge, Elderman.”
“Then what perplexes you?”
“I fear it is not my place to question your decisions, Elderman.”
Elder Headman Amajit laughed.
“So different from Kai: he would not hesitate to challenge me! As boys I taught you both to come to me with your questions and worries. Why is it that you are so hesitant, Shin?”
For a moment Shin remained silent, and Elder Headman Amajit could see indecision on his face.
“Dam’sel Aya did not know that she had been Bonded to Kai,” he stated carefully at last. “I confess to wondering if forcing them together like this will heal the breach between the Head Families, or make things worse. Dam’sel Aya is not one of us. We are strangers to her, and our customs foreign. Yet now she finds herself bound to one of us against her will, and for a reason no one will tell her.”
For the first time Elder Headman Amajit looked grave.
“It is regrettable. I did not know that the Bonding had been kept from her.”
“Kai will honour his Bonding vows,” continued Shin, “but you know what he is. I worry that Dam’sel Aya will rebel in the end.”
Elder Headman Amajit turned the words over in his mind for some while. The fire burnt low, and Shin moved to stoke the dying embers and add more fuel. Elder Headman Amajit watched as the light played across the young man’s features. It highlighted the almost perpetual expression of worry on the young man’s face and, on closer inspection, the darker shades of sadness it concealed.
“It was a brave and selfless thing you did that day, Shin.”
Shin continued to agitate the glowing coals with more enthusiasm than was completely necessary.
“I did what little I could to help a friend, Elderman Di Ye, it was no great thing.”
“On the contrary; to stand up for what you believed was right, to abandon a promotion that you had worked so hard to attain, and to go against your father, took great courage.”
Shin laid aside the poker and sat back down.
“It was a necessary action to take, but not one I am proud of.”
Elder Headman Amajit nodded.
“Your feelings do you credit. No satisfaction should come from going against your father, however wrong we may think him.”
Shin nodded abruptly, looking away.
“Have you spoken with Kai?” prompted the old man.
“Earlier today.”
“How was his temper?”
Shin’s eyes narrowed.
“Icy, and his hand was bruised.”
Elder Headman Amajit shook his head.
“There was an incident at the training ground this morning. Laren Uel Ne Dagra suggested that Aya was second hand goods.”
“The fool! What happened?”
“Kai reasoned with him calmly, requesting that he unsay his words or have his teeth rammed down his throat. As I understand it Laren was unwise enough to choose the latter option, hence Kai’s damaged hand.” He shook his head regretfully. “I tried to cure Laren of his bullish behaviour, but he resisted every worthy idea I attempted to instil in him. His ignorance is even harder to pardon now that he has attained manhood.”
“Will Kai be forced to apologise, or were there witnesses?”
“No he will not have to apologise. Benjirou Uel Ne Garr and Ling Uel Ne Betel were present, and stood as witnesses. The only person apologising will be Laren Uel Ne Dagra, or at least he will be once his jaw has healed.”
Shin grinned ruefully.
“Kai’s penchant for breaking jaws causes you much trouble.”
“Not at all. It is the idiots who goad him that cause me trouble,” responded Elder Headman Amajit promptly. “Kai is a good boy… mostly.”
Shin stifled a chuckle.
“You’d best not tell him I said so; his head is big enough as it is.”
Shin bowed slightly.
“As you say, Elderman.”
“But you are worried over him are you not, Shin?”
Shin paused again, staring into the flames with an almost bewildered expression in his eyes.
“I am worried that he will not be able to see past his hate.”
Elder Headman Amajit reached for the teapot on the small table beside him, and refilled Shin’s empty cup.
“Do you know why, out of all the children I took on as pupils, it was you and Kai that i
nterested me most?” he asked carefully, after some time had passed.
Shin shook his head indicating his ignorance.
Elderman Di Ye, finished with the teapot, placed it back down on the small table and covered it with a knitted tea cosy. It was in the shape of an Elder Headman’s headpiece, made in the gold and red colours of the Elder Headman, and decorated with the ruby and citrine insignia of his house. Elderman Di Ye saw Shin regarding the tea cozy with interest and smiled gently.
“Niya made it for me,” he explained.
Shin nodded. Niya was the eldest daughter of Headman Daksha, husband to Jia Li, Aya’s eldest sister.
“I took a greater interest in you boys because you reminded me of my brother and I, when we were young.”
Shin Uel Ne Phoenix's startled eyes met his.
“I never knew you had a brother, Elderman.”
“I did once… a long time ago.”
Wistful sadness crept over his heart as he relived the most precious memories he possessed with the unhappy knowledge that he could never have their warmth and cheer again.
“May I ask what happened to him?”
Elder Headman Amajit shook his head, ridding his mind of an unwanted image.
“He was never strong, and was often ill. He died of an infection in his twenty-eighth year.”
“I’m sorry.”
Elderman Di Ye shook his head with a smile of reminiscence.
“Jae Shin was older by three years. You would have liked him Shin: his body was weak but his mind… his mind was sharp and clever. He could bring you round to his way of thinking in an instant, but his words were so mellow it didn’t really seem as though he were arguing with you at all. He had such a mild way about him, so peaceful and restive. Partly I suppose, it was because his illness taught him patience, but it was also his nature to be placid.” He laughed. “But if you ever hurt innocent people in your scheming, his righteous indignation was something to behold. He believed so forcefully in the Headman’s role being to protect his people, and it angered him when he saw those in power ignoring the weak and trampling over ordinary people. Kai reminds me of him so strongly.”
“Kai?”
There could be no ignoring the astonishment in Shin's voice.
“Yes, you find it hard to believe?”
Shin shrugged.
“I don’t think I would describe Kai as gentle or restive.”
“You have forgotten the boy Kai once was? I have not, Shin.”
“But that was then!”
“And you think he has changed? So foolish of you! Kai was a warm and trusting child with a strong sense of right and wrong. His similarity to Jae Shin was more pronounced than I can tell you.”
“He’s not like that anymore; you didn’t want him to be. You said that his natural trust and warmth made him vulnerable and weak.”
“That is so. Life has not been kind to him any more than it has been to you. Experience has taught him that not everyone is worthy of his trust or his warmth, and he has developed a protective shield of cold bitterness. However, behind that façade, Kai is the same as he has always been. As kind and gentle as Jae Shin was, he also possessed that same strength. Kai chooses to use his authority as a protective shell, Jae Shin buried it deep within, an impossibly tensile core that he could draw strength from.”
Shin silently considered Elder Headman Amajit’s words for a few minutes.
“That is why you chose him to marry Dam’sel Aya isn’t it? All these years I thought it was just because he was Apprentice Headman to the House of Sen, but it was Kai himself that you chose, wasn’t it?”
Elder Headman Amajit smiled at his pupil’s perspicacity.
“You are correct, Shin. I knew that whoever I entrusted Aya to would suffer much trouble from the Head Families. Kai was the only one who I could trust to treat Aya with fairness. The warmth that you think he has lost forever is what will help him overcome his hurt pride and anger at being forced into accepting the shame her family bears.”
“I am not so sure.”
Elderman Di Ye took a sip of his tea, and settled more comfortably into the depths of his chair.
“Then it seems that you do not know him as well as I do, Shin.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ben rounded the corner of the house and came across the person he’d been trying to find since lunch.
Leda was seated with Astra beneath a shady tree watching Uri, Petta, Balak, Ceadron, and Penn playing football. The sun shone brightly as Ben watched Balak and Ceadron tackle each other for possession of the ball. Penn shouted encouragement, and Petta cheered first one then the other. Eventually Ceadron and Balak tripped each other up, falling in a heap on the grass.
“They’re competitive,” remarked Ben sitting down beside Leda.
She turned, smiling at him.
“It’s something of a family trait.”
Ben pretended surprise.
“What Leda? Surely not you as well?”
“I’d have thought you noticed.”
Ben shook his head.
“Well I do have it on good authority that you like kicking hornets’ nests.”
Astra didn’t acknowledge the jibe, but continued to watch the football game.
Leda’s brow wrinkled.
“Kicking hornets’ nests?”
Ben nodded.
“Yeah, you know: playing with fire.”
Leda continued to look blank.
“He means making trouble, Leda,” interposed Astra.
“Which reminds me: what are your feelings on skeletons, Leda?”
“Skeletons?” asked Leda in bewilderment.
Astra laughed.
Ben couldn’t quite believe it, but she laughed. For the first time Ben could see her as a person. Before, she had interested him, then, when he had learnt her story he had felt sorry for her. Yet he’d never really liked her. Her personality didn’t really allow thinking of her in terms of like or dislike. She was too shut off, too guarded and her façade unreal.
“I knew you’d come round to my way of thinking and see the funny side,” stated Ben, settling his back against the tree.
“It was not in the least funny at the time.”
Ben thought it over.
“I suppose it wasn’t, but I didn’t know what was at stake.”
Astra’s smile faded.
“And Leda was the only one who was brave enough to tell you.”
Leda had continued to look lost through their exchange, but at this last remark she shivered, wrapping her arms around her knees and resting her chin on top.
“Or stupid enough,” she sighed.
Astra was thoughtful for a moment before shaking her head.
“They needed to know what was really happening, Leda.”
“They are still in the dark about it, and the only person that could tell them anything is right here with us,” responded Leda glumly. “The only thing I accomplished was to put us all in danger, to separate Ben from his father, and make it necessary for us all to come here.”
“But we’re safe, Leda, and that is more than I would have believed possible,” countered Astra.
Leda studied her sister’s face closely.
“Safe? Are we?”
Leda looked pointedly to where Shin and his men sat watching them all from a distance.
“Even if we are safe, what about you?”
Astra looked vaguely surprised.
“What do you mean?”
Leda clicked her tongue impatiently.
“What about that not so friendly husband we’ve just found out you have?”
Ben watched stiffness creep into Astra’s form, and knew that she had closed up again. Leda’s questions had been too aggressive, too probing. Astra only had one reaction to fear, and that was to shut down. All her safety mechanisms came on line and she hid behind them, frozen. Ben was a little surprised that Leda didn’t know that her line of questioning would only scare Astra away. Or, maybe it w
asn’t that she didn’t realise, but that she didn’t know how to go about it in a different way.
Leda was a tough cookie. She didn’t flinch from things that needed to be done, but was forthright, even aggressive, and blunt to a fault. She probably had no idea how to handle someone like Astra, who needed their secrets extracted with kid gloves, while they remained in blithe ignorance of the fact that they were giving any secrets away.
Ben doubted that he could get Astra to open up to him. He might have the technique, but she didn’t trust him enough to drop her guard. Still, with her manner of interrogation, Leda wasn’t going to get anywhere either.
Astra stood and strolled over to the ornamental pond putting an abrupt end to the conversation. Ben shifted closer to Leda, pulling gently on a lock of her hair to catch her wandering attention.
“You scared her.”
Leda’s eyes shifted, not quite meeting his gaze.
“That’s ridiculous: why would she be scared of me?”
“Not so much you,” mused Ben, “more the way you talked to her. When she’s scared, her shoulders stiffen and she goes very still.”
Leda’s eyes met his, he could see curiosity in her gaze.
“You seem to know — or at least think you know — a lot about my sister.”
“I know that, despite the admirable way she hides it, she is deeply afraid of confrontation. Her reaction to any sort of altercation is to detach herself from everything around her,” answered Ben. “It’s a safety mechanism, without it she would never have survived being Councillor Ladron’s subsidiary.”
Leda’s face remained frozen, and Ben could detect a glitter of anger in her eyes.
“You have known Astra for a week, and yet you think you know her better than I do?”
Ben shrugged slightly, surprised by the heat of her anger.
“Where I come from we have a saying: you can’t see the wood for the trees. It means that sometimes you’re too close to see something that’s staring you in the face.”