by Jean Winter
The card.
Lyra pulled out the mysterious paper offered by the mysterious lord of last night. “We can help you.” That was what he'd said. Dare she trust him? What kind of help did he actually mean? He had spoken of her freedom—of being able to see her family again. Had they found a way to remove the implant safely? Or at least neutralize it? Lyra bit at her lip.
Even if all that he said was true, when could she set up a meeting away from this place? Away from J'Kor that wouldn't seem suspicious? Lyra listened to Jos'lie's bounding about as she chatted happily to her father about her week, no doubt seeking her Mama Lyra as she went. The card was slid into a small drawer among stockings and hankies and Lyra turned to choose a frock. She couldn't think about that right now.
When she was ready to fake her way through the rest of the day, she walked out to J'Kor sitting with Jos'lie at his chair. He was telling her how Mama Lyra was not feeling well today.
“Mama Lyra!” the girl cried, jumping from her father's lap to run to her. “I tried so hard! I did good!”
Lyra told Jos'lie how proud she was of her and gave a quick nod to J'Kor that she was okay. She let Jos'lie pull her to the love seat to tell her all about school. Jos'lie skipped from subject to subject so quickly that Lyra could hardly keep up, but it didn't really matter. The girl only needed the occasional exclamation of wonder and acknowledgment at the right moment to be fully satisfied.
Lyra grew a bit concerned when Jos'lie mentioned showing the “family” picture she had drawn to her classmates and teachers. Evidently, she had told everyone all about her new mama and their sleepover in her room. Lyra made a mental note to resist doing too many of those. She couldn't afford to let strange stories of her living arrangement get passed around via J'Kor's kids. Finally, Jos'lie skipped happily away, and her father, who had been biding his time elsewhere in the house, took his daughter's place.
“How are you feeling?”
Lyra stared at her lap. “Ashamed, depressed, guilty.” She took a breath, forcing herself to go on. “And … and utterly unworthy of God sending me to you. Thank you. For respecting me last night. Any other man in Caldreen would have taken advantage.” It was really embarrassing speaking so honestly, but she was done trying to hide things from his man. She respected him too much.
He took a moment to answer. “Well, 'Weak Lyra' is no' the woman for which I have come to care. I do no' want her reaching for me.”
A tear coursed down Lyra's cheek as conflicting emotions of elation and concern bounced and collided within her. Then she shook her head and stood. “I—I think I had better eat something now, and then I'll get on to some chores.”
Thankfully, he let her go without any other inquiry and one more humble prayer of gratitude rose to the heavens for this man.
Lyra managed the rest of the day.
Around the table at dinner J'Kor read the latest letter from one of Jos'lie's teachers speaking of her improvement in mathematics. Some of her work suggested only being two grades behind instead of the usual three or four. Jos'lie said she was trying extra hard for her new mama. Even Breht contributed somewhat to the happy family atmosphere with his enthusiasm over the last disc event coming up before the end of the school year. Lyra managed to impress him (moderately) with her decent knowledge of the game, and, for a few minutes, her pain was successfully pushed aside.
J'Kor helped her with the dishes afterward and together they spoke quietly of the coming week. No longer did he harbor any pretenses regarding his plans of her staying and no longer was Lyra figuratively huddling in fear of what he might do to her. It was comfortable.
A loud crash from the master bedroom interrupted their discussion and Lyra and J'Kor weren't even across the great room before the sharp, pained wail of a girl rose through the house. Jos'lie! Neither realized she had been in there by herself!
On the floor at Lyra's vanity they found her, blood streaming from a cut at her temple. A quick assessment exposed no other injury, but Lyra noted with great alarm the overturned stool, the dropped pile of linens from the shelf, and her sacred box lying haphazardly on its end, having found its way mostly out of its covering, and having made a deep gouge in the vanity top where it landed. Oh, God no! Her arms flew to whisk it out of sight.
“Lyra, the medical kit, please,” said J'Kor, kneeling with his daughter. His glance up took in the unusual box sitting not more than a foot away from his head. The simple curiosity changed, however, when he saw the way Lyra's hands had frozen over it, read the apprehension in her eyes, her mere posture speaking volumes. Jos'lie cried pitifully again and J'Kor was reminded of the more immediate need. “Lyra … the kit, please,” he repeated slower.
Gulping, Lyra ran from the room and retrieved it.
“What happened?” Breht queried, bored, from his bedroom door.
“Jos'lie fell and hit her head,” Lyra called over her shoulder.
An unsurprised mutter came from the teenager as he retreated back to his fortress of solitude. In the closet, Lyra placed a towel under Jos'lie's head to catch the blood.
“I was try to—to see you book, Mama!” Jos'lie wailed.
Through her racing pulse, Lyra made soft shushing sounds, encouraging Jos'lie to be still while J'Kor applied pressure. She tried not to glance at the Tohmu'vah. It would do no good to hide it now. She was just going to have to … trust. Oh Heavenly Father, I'm sorry! I should have found a better spot for it. Buried it in the ground or something!
The bleeding slowed after a minute and they both studied the deep gash Jos'lie had received from hitting the corner of the vanity when she fell off the stool. Jos'lie whimpered again about just wanting to see the “book” and another shudder passed through Lyra. J'Kor astutely ignored his daughter's strange words for the time being just as he astutely avoided eye contact with Lyra while he concentrated on the task at hand.
“Well,” he finally said, “do you want to try your 'magic'? It will probably go over better with Jos' than stitches.”
“Umm.” In a little while, the fate of Lyra's people would be teetering on the strength of the loyalty of this former officer of Caldreen to his country. Sure, she could concentrate on singing right now! No problem! Lyra suppressed the bizarre urge to laugh as she knelt at Jos'lie's head and gingerly placed it on her lap. The Father of the Universe then got a fast, urgent prayer for the ability to compartmentalize that part of Lyra's brain that was totally losing it.
She needn't have worried.
Jos'lie's music came streaming into Lyra's head almost as soon as she placed fingers over the girl's skin. Strong and vibrant. More present than in her other two patients. Lyra thanked God for helping her to listen better under the circumstances.
Gently pinching together the two sides of the gouge, Lyra began to match the tone. And just as with the others, other notes eventually rose to compliment the original. Jos'lie's flowing chord arpeggios, however, positively twinkled with life and joy. It was like no music she had ever heard before and Lyra felt honored to witness such an innocently pure soul. It started to change as the girl's eyelids began to droop with sleep.
“Mama, show Papa you book. … Trust, de-pend—you … is good man—Papa,” Jos'lie mumbled, slurring even worse than usual. “Bad monsters, no spirit.”
Lyra's concentration faltered and the music stopped. J'Kor offered no reaction, but Lyra knew he had heard every single word as well. She dug in once more and finished up, though she knew that the last bit was not knit together as well as the first, but at this point it was an accomplishment to have finished the job at all. She was completely drained—physically, mentally, and emotionally. Just another day in the life of Lyra the Khar.
J'Kor picked up his sleeping princess and with a solemn, “Thank you,” strode away to put her to bed.
With a heavy heart, Lyra reset the stool and carefully turned the Tohmu'vah's case back to an upright position. This was too coincidental. She could understand a child's natural curiosity to go snooping on occasion
, but nothing else in the room seemed out of place. Jos'lie had gone straight for the corner shelf.
Father, Your humor is appreciated less and less. Please stop being so funny.
As she waited for J'Kor's impending return, Lyra held the box protectively on her lap, a prayer at her lips. The wait wasn't long.
“Thank you, again, for doing that for Jos',” were his first words from the doorway.
“It was my pleasure. She bears such delightfully happy music, I could listen to it all day. It was a privilege to tune into her.”
J'Kor nodded. “It sounded like it.”
A long moment passed, then he stepped inside.
“Mrs. Woodrose.” The formality was blaring. “I have to ask what that is.”
# # #
Her nod was resigned. Her next breath, like one before the ruling of a death sentence.
“This is my people's most precious artifact,” she said, holding the elaborately carved box reverently in her lap. “This is what my husband and friends were really protecting when they died to help me escape the ambush. And it is why I chose to step onto the auction stage rather than die trying to escape. I have to protect it at all costs.”
Lyra's mind blowing revelation almost made Kade dizzy. “Is that … the weapon?”
“Well, it's not really a weapon, but it has great power—when needed.” The shake of her head said she was not satisfied with her word choice. “Sorry, it's kind of hard to explain.”
“But you have had it here in my closet this whole time?”
From day one he had not wondered much about what Lyra had in her pack. Kade assumed it was just the usual female things and keepsakes. Even when he found out where she really came from, it never once occurred to him that Lyra might possibly be such a pivotal figure in this long-standing war against the Believers.
She nodded.
Kade said, “But, if it is so important, how did your people let it end up with you? Why was it no' kept with your prophet and the rest o' your colony that got away?”
“It was my turn as Bearer. Everyone takes a week to shoulder the responsibility. It is how we have always done it.”
“But should you no' have had highest priority in leaving with the first group? Whose stupid idea was it to let you be at the back?”
A small, sad smile turned up one corner of her mouth. “The prophet's.”
“Your prophet?” he echoed. Maybe the Believers were crazy after all.
Lyra began to trace a finger affectionately along one of the running designs. “Believe me, there was a hot debate over it when my name was drawn in the lottery to be in the reserve group. Many others, like you, thought I should be passed over this time, or that my period as Bearer be cut short for safety. But Brother Oubwyn, our prophet, took some time to consider the matter in prayer. The next day he told me I should accept my place in the lottery and finish my week as Bearer, too. God only knows why.”
At the slump of her shoulders, Kade understood that Lyra was just as confused by the logic of it all as he.
She continued softly, “No doubt he is getting a lot of backlash now from a lot of frightened people. Everyone must think it is lost. I imagine a search party or two has been organized, but I guess no one has been able to trace what happened to me.”
Some of Lyra's friends' comments from the interrogation made a lot more sense now. They were as much after what was in this box as Lyra, if not more so! Kade had chosen not to reveal his knowledge of them to Lyra yet as he didn't know whether or not his recommendation to the colonel would go through. It was possible they still might be killed. He'd decided to wait until he had good news.
Now, about that meeting he had promised, this new knowledge made it even more potentially problematic. Dangerous, even. Obviously, they will want to get this back from Lyra. Surely Kade should not let that happen—
“I need to see it.”
Lyra turned wide, fear-filled eyes on him. “Sir, please. Do not take this from me.”
“Lyra, I need to see it first before I can decide that. You say it is no' really a weapon. Show me.”
It took a while for her protective grip on the box to loosen, but slowly, uncertainly, she placed it on the vanity. “Okay.”
Kade brought a small table lamp to supplement the dim, overhead bulb. He wanted a good look at this thing. Whatever it was. Meanwhile, Lyra turned the box up to reveal a grid of buttons on the underside and after a second's hesitation, quickly pushed several of them. Kade heard a small click.
Resetting the case on the vanity, and with a small mutter to herself—or perhaps to her god, Lyra opened the lid to an object inside wrapped in cloth. She lifted it from the padded lining. By the chinking sound it made when she set it before her, Kade could tell it was quite solid.
Here she paused again, clearly reluctant to go further—so Kade did it for her. He reached over her shoulder and made the cloth fall away.
The artifact was metallic and lustrous, almost glowing under the lamplight with a mystical— Wait a minute.
“Is it a book?” Kade was rather disappointed. “This is your prophetic doomsday device? Your powerful leveling weapon?” Bah! Believers are crazy.
Lyra seemed relieved by his lack of concern, though she still spoke with great reverence.“Well, yes, it is the book, our original scripture—passed from the beginning of written language through the generations.”
Maybe it was just a shell with a hidden compartment. Kade reached to pick it up.
Gasping, Lyra made a grab for his arm. His fingers made brief contact with the unusual metal surface before she was able to stop him and Kade looked at her in surprise. “What? Am I supposed to utter a prayer or something before I touch it?”
“Uh …” With a nervous energy, Lyra checked his fingers for … for what? Dirt? She looked from him to the plates. “No. I—I just thought that something might happen. We never touch … it.” The poor woman was seriously confused.
Carefully, Kade touched the artifact again, picking it up, and this time Lyra let him. He found the anciently engraved object cool and smooth—and heavier than it looked—with writing in the old language, only a little of which Kade remembered from his school days when he was made to study the dead script for its supposed historical value.
Underneath the cover plate was another plate with more engraving, and another, and another. Hmm. It was possible that the text described how to make some destructive weapon, but otherwise, the only danger Kade could imagine from this thing was accidentally dropping it on his toes.
For a full minute he turned more random pages. Nope. Nothing hidden in there but words. He finally set it down before a still disturbed Lyra. “It seems harmless enough to me. Are you sure this is the object from your prophecy?”
It was almost funny to watch the emotions of both relief and disappointment pass across Lyra's features as she sat staring at her revered, ancient relic sitting innocently before her like any other hunk of metal. Honestly, Kade was both relieved and a little disappointed too—relieved that the apparent threat from the Believers was not near the scale his government had feared, and disappointed at all the years of wasted effort and killing that just the idea of this object had caused.
Lyra tentatively touched the strange, probably valuable metal, passing her fingers quizzically over the surface. “We have writings from ancient prophets about the Tohmu'vah expelling great energy and power when God has used it to defend the righteous,” she said. “We have always understood that it was a literal power, able to lay waste to entire cities. But maybe it was meant to be more figurative.” Then she turned to him. “Well, do you have any more questions. Or concerns?”
“I would probably like to show it to some o' my superiors—let them see that it is harmless.”
“No!” Lyra said with surprising force. “Please don't take this. They won't give it back!”
“Lyra, do you no' think that if you shared this, it could stop a lot o' the prejudice and killing?” Suddenly a light a
ppeared at the end of the tunnel. Helping his government change its mind about Believers would make things so much safer for Lyra. It would be easier for them to be together. Why was she not eager to jump on this opportunity?
“I-I don't understand the nature of this book's power,” she told him, “but we have been given strict and clear commandment to keep it hidden from the world. That I know. That is my sacred mandate.” Her gaze bore into him, solid and unwavering. “And I cannot vary from it—not until I receive instruction otherwise from my leaders. Please understand.”
Kneeling beside her, Kade brushed fingers along her soft cheek. “You have shown it to me,” he reminded.
She lowered her face. “Out of compulsion. I still fear I am breaking the commandment in doing so, but I have come to trust you. Please don't let anyone know this is here.”
“I still think it would be o' great benefit to show it to people,” he reiterated gently. “Think about it. You might no' have to hide who you are anymore.” But Lyra only shook her head.
“People's minds might not be so easily changed as you hope—especially when it means they would have to recant longstanding wrongs against others. At this point, I think the military is so invested in seeking out rebels, that even if this artifact were taken out of the equation, they would just make up some other excuse to continue doing what they have been doing. Remember? We refuse to swear fealty to Caldreen. Maybe you don't want to believe it, but that alone has been reason enough for your military to wipe out entire towns.”
Kade's brow furrowed. He could not deny certain leaders who condoned such treatment of “reluctants.” There was a prevailing theory of Manifest Destiny that Caldreen spread uninhibited from sea to sea, and many in power took that as an excuse to move forward with the expansion by any means necessary. She may be right on that point, but she may also be a pessimist to assume that no good could come of sharing this with the world. Things will certainly not get any better by doing nothing.
However, it sounded like she also had strict orders, and Kade could empathize with the soldier's creed of unquestioning obedience. “All right, you have your orders and since I do no' see any threat in you or this thing, I suppose I do no' feel a need to file a report.” Relief washed over her like a drought-breaking rain. “However,” he added, “there is still a possibility that its contents are dangerous. So, I must insist that you grant me access to study it—just in case.”