by M S C Barnes
scrunch of feet on stones and turned to see Mr Duir standing beside a bench under the overhanging branches of a pine tree.
“Will you join me, Seb?”
They sat, looking out over the pond. A few bubbles popped up and the dorsal fin of a carp cut through the surface of the water then disappeared again. The air was fresh though chilly.
Turning to Mr Duir, Seb said, “I love this place. My mum always bring us here on our birth— ” He stopped and for the first time realised. “Tomorrow is my brother’s birthday!”
Thoughts tumbled through his mind. This was the anniversary of their father’s death, but the anniversary of so much more now, he knew. And it wasn’t his brother’s birthday!
“Yes it is,” Mr Duir said quietly. “Your brother’s birthday, Seb.” He watched him keenly.
Then Seb slumped back, feeling the hard slats of the bench across his spine.
“Only, he’s not my brother.”
He knew now why Mr Duir had chosen this spot – he wanted to elicit this conversation.
Mr Duir sat forward, gazing into the swirling pond water.
“Seb, for better or ill he is still your brother. The knowledge you have cannot and must not change anything. The fact that this soul usurped that body is not a reason to treat it any differently.”
When he spoke, Seb’s voice was louder than he intended.
“You mean we just let him get away with it? Sanction what he did to my father? I thought the whole point— ”
Mr Duir interrupted, his own tone still quiet. “The whole point is to keep the balance of all things. This soul evaded me, Seb, and was successful in finding a host for its unauthorised visit to this reality. It happens occasionally. The fact that, on this occasion, what allowed the event was my absence and the effects were more far-reaching than usual is not a reason to behave any differently.” He turned back to Seb. “Our role is to prevent the trespassing of souls, to send them back to Áberan before they find a host or, if it is an animal host they have taken, to draw them out and return them. It is not, and never can be, to remove a soul from a human host, whatever the consequences to the rightful soul and to those in this particular lifetime.
“It is a dreadful thing, as a Custodian, to witness the abhorrent after-effects of your failure …” He paused and rubbed his eyes, then taking a slow, deep breath continued, “Seb, I have seen greedy millionaires step on those they deem beneath them just for lack of money. I have seen dictators and despots abuse power and trust and the suffering that causes to those they dominate. I have seen serial killers and genocidal tyrants inflict such terrible harm. I have seen all of these consequences and more come from the trespassing of souls I have failed to stop before they found a host – and each one cuts my own soul to the core.
“But I never forget that all this is due to my failure, and I must accept that, as you will have to. You can strive and work tirelessly, but some will always be missed. And then? You strive harder.
“It is not the place of the Custodian to try to rectify these failures, or to judge.” As if trying to drive the point home he spoke more forcefully. “Sometimes, Seb, on occasion, a soul will learn. Having had their fill of what they desired they find it doesn’t bring them satisfaction, they find it hollow and meaningless and then, like an awakening, they understand and they change.”
He paused as a toddler approached him and without any hesitation clambered onto his lap. Mr Duir smiled and stroked the child’s hair as her apologetic mother came and lifted her off him. The child stretched her arms out to him and began crying as her mother swept her away towards the shop on the other side of the pond.
As the attention of those around the lake, attracted by the noise, returned to other things, Seb said, “But the suffering caused to everyone else? We’re supposed to let that happen just for the odd one to learn? The impact on so many others— ”
“In one lifetime, Seb. Yes. In one lifetime. And it is dreadful. The most heartbreaking is the torture and slaughter of innocents or the desperate soul who has enough about them to know their host has been invaded with them still in it, who chooses to end their stay in this reality – dreadful and painful. But those souls grow and learn and return. The other choice is for us to interfere and that can only lead to banishment of an innocent soul if the original soul is paired with the trespasser.”
“Only then!” Seb said angrily. “The soul in my brother’s body cast out the original soul. So why can’t we banish it? Punish it?”
Mr Duir sighed.
“Seb, not punish – never punish – we do not judge and we do not punish. We read and we protect. Only when a soul is beyond saving and will wreak such devastation on each visit do we banish. A Custodian is a guardian, a keeper, a protector – not a judge and not a leveller of punishment.”
Seb was fuming now, letting all the frustration and anger he felt at the confusion and upset of the last few days fill his mind. This soul had sentenced their father to a living hell for five years; it had given him and Scarlet and their mother untold suffering in the grief they felt at the loss of father and husband … this soul who laughed and giggled and played with them as though he were their brother, who coaxed cuddles and love out of all of them … and then it dawned on him: the soul had not killed their father – he had died in an accident – the grief they experienced they would have felt even if their father’s soul had inhabited their brother’s body. And the joy they had all experienced at the arrival of this new baby would have been felt irrespective of which soul occupied it. They had laughed and giggled and played with this soul and they had cuddled and loved him and received cuddles and love in return.
Mr Duir had been silent as he watched the anger on Seb’s face become the usual confusion and then understanding.
“Very few souls are so bad they have no redeeming qualities, Seb. In all the numbers we deal with during the Restoration you will discover the numbers banished are low. Most trespassers are simply lost, confused, hurt and seeking purpose in it all.
“That soul trespassed. It did so not knowing what would and did happen to the rightful soul. Whether it would have cared or not is a moot point – it is a soul that needs us to care.”
He let the words sink in, gave Seb several minutes of peace, surrounded by the noise of laughter, chattering, whooshing cars, the crash of the water plume and the returning laugh of the kookaburra.
A memory sprang into Seb’s mind: Adam, The Taz, rolling down the hill at Sandy Lodge in fits of giggles, and then his little body wriggling and squirming as he tried, with Gretel and Zach, to reach an arm into the rabbit hole. It made him smile. Life was never dull with The Taz and, until two days ago, Seb had believed wholeheartedly this was his brother. And he knew that, in this life, he was. However that had come about, this soul was his brother.
He dropped his head, a sign almost of defeat and Mr Duir said, “Seb, it is not a sad thing; it is an opportunity. Had you never known, had you never been shown, this soul would have always been your brother. And who knows what the experience of having a lifetime as a brother to you and Scarlet and a son to the soul of your mother has done and may still do for that soul? Do not judge – just care.”
So much had happened and Seb’s emotions were so raw. Suddenly all he wanted was for The Taz to clamber on his lap, demanding, as he had so many times before, that Seb put his book down and play with him.
Tomorrow their mother would bring them all, he guessed, after school, to the Koi Centre and he would watch The Taz try to stick his fingers in the water for the fish to nibble while their mother told him not to. They would eat an ice cream, possibly sitting on this very bench, and talk about nonsense before going for a birthday tea with Cousin Sarah. It was Thomas Family tradition and The Taz was a Thomas.
Seb straightened his shoulders.
“It’s hard not to judge,” he said.
“Yes it is, but it’s even harder not to care.” Mr Duir smiled. “Protect him, Seb. You never know how he may turn out.”
> Seb stared back at Mr Duir.
“I have to thank you— ” Seb began but Mr Duir cut him off.
“No you do not!”
“You protected me. When Heath and Braddock wanted to take my body, you protected me.”
Mr Duir stared steadily at him. “You did so much more for me, Seb.” Then he stood up. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to speak with Dierne and the others. There is something I need to tell them.”
“They already know!” Seb blurted out and Mr Duir froze, his back to Seb who, as a consequence, was unable to read his expression. “They know about your pledge. Even before they made theirs, they knew.” Mr Duir turned slowly and for the first time Seb saw confusion in his face. “Heath spied on you, that equinox when you asked to speak to the Elders alone, Heath spied on you. And then he told the others what you had done. They didn’t want him to, said it was a betrayal of trust, but he told them anyway.”
Mr Duir was staring at him in silence. The look of confusion had been replaced by a closed expression.
“They couldn’t bring themselves to tell you, but when they all pledged to serve as long as you do, they knew.”
Seb waited for some reaction. It wasn’t what he expected. Mr Duir slumped back down beside him on the bench and, putting his elbows on his knees, dropped his head into his hands.
Seb felt awful. “It’s not a bad thing,” he said