by Jean Winter
“But sleeping next to me half naked is?” he finally said softly.
Drat! He had to bring that up!
No. He was right. He was absolutely right! She had gone way past safe boundaries the other night. Oh, she was such a hypocrite!
“I'm sorry,” Lyra mumbled guiltily. “That was a mistake. I shouldn't have let that happen.”
It was with a sudden clarity that Lyra realized she shouldn't even be sitting with him like this. This wasn't appropriate behavior between two people who were “just friends” either!
She closed the book and made to stand. “I think I had better go … do something else.”
But J'Kor expeditiously pulled her right back down. “No. Lyra, we need to talk about this and it needs to happen now.” He adjusted himself to face her and Lyra cringed in her seat, not at all prepared to have this conversation, especially right now. “Lyra, I meant what I said last night. I wish I could offer you marriage. I love you. Do you … love me, too?”
Slowly, Lyra shook her head. “I don't know.” You're a liar! You're a liar! Don't lie to him! “Well, maybe. Yes.” It was true. Oh no, it was true!
“You do?”
The words were uttered with such relief and humility that Lyra knew if she lifted her eyes to him in that moment, she would unequivocally lose herself to him. She would reach for his glorious sun-tinted head, seek out those sensitive full lips, and neither one of them would come up for air again until the next day.
“But it still doesn't change anything. I can't allow myself to act on it—not as we are now.”
“But what do you expect me to do?” he said with a sudden urgency. “You know we canno' be married. I can try my best to just be your friend, but come on, Lyra, I am only a man. I mean, it may be easy for you to maintain certain boundaries, but I can only chop so much wood!”
“You think this has been easy for me?” she retorted, ignoring the strange wood-chopping comment. (She got the gist anyway.) “Look, I have been tempted by you every minute of every day, and the only reason I was able to fall asleep with you last night like I did was because I was completely worn out with Jos'lie's healing. And—and that nightmare I had that I didn't want to talk about? Well, for your information, that dream was about you.” Lyra snorted. “And what was happening between us was definitely not on my 'acceptable' list.”
“Really?” His pleasure at the candid disclosure was plain.
He reached for her face again, but Lyra bounced to her feet, Tohmu'vah in hand, and resurrected heart beating wildly. “Please stop doing that! You are not helping the situation.” She spun and retreated to the bedroom.
An exasperated groan rose up. “Lyra, I am sorry!” J'Kor came after her in the vanity closet as she hastily wrapped the plates back in their cloth. “But you canno' land a revelation like that in a man's lap and no' expect a response. It is how normal people express their affection.”
“There are more important elements to a good relationship than sex,” she shot back.
He heaved a monumental sigh. “O' course, I know that, but I am slowly going insane, nevertheless. I canno' keep living like this with you! Is an official ceremony so important?”
Father, give me the courage ….
“Something of authority recognizing a union of mutual consent and equality, yes. It is a commandment—no exceptions. Besides, it is the only solid assurance of another's sincerity, and I cannot accept less. I'm sorry,” she told him, shaking her head, despondent. “But perhaps, in time, we will be able to find a way—”
“No, Lyra,” J'Kor cut in. “There is no 'way.' I have thought and thought about this and I can tell you most assuredly that no Justice in Caldreen will ever agree to marry us!”
An idea suddenly struck Lyra—a really terrifying idea—that almost frightened her too much to voice. “What if I knew someone outside of Caldreen that could marry us?”
J'Kor's expression darkened. “What—exactly—are you suggesting?”
“Well, if we went together to go find my people, we could be married there.”
The eyes grew more dull, more distant. It was an eternity before he grumbled, “Lyra, you ask too much.”
“No—no!” Lyra contested. “It's not as bad as it sounds. You wouldn't have to convert or anything. It would just be a plain, civil ceremony—but it would be binding. Binding enough. Then, I—I promise I will return with you. Forever.”
“No,” he countered, “it is that bad! No' even considering that I canno' leave this farm for more than a week, or what in the world I would do with Breht and Jos'lie for such a period, or, after all that trouble, what you will do if we canno' even find them, you do no' seem to realize that I would be walking right into a colony o' people that I used to assist in hunting down. Do you really believe for a second that they will let me marry you so I can swiftly carry you back to the enemy nation? It is much more likely that I will be taken prisoner and killed!”
“I would not let them do that! I would explain the situation, make them marry us, and, once I can see my children for a few days, I would force everyone to let me return with you!”
His laugh was dark. And bitter. “And you would really be able to just walk away from your children forever? Just like that?”
Like a knife to her gut, Lyra realized just how difficult it really would be. A piece of her soul severed and left there to rot. It would kill her.
“Exactly,” J'Kor grunted, interpreting her expression.
“No, wait.” Lyra collected her nerve again. “I could. I know I could! I know I would have to—and being with them again, if only for a little while, would still be so much better than not at all.”
Eyes narrowing, shoulders tense, J'Kor regarded her. Then he just shook his head and walked away. With a small sob Lyra lurched after him into the great room.
“Please! I would do it. I would do it for you!”
The pause in J'Kor's stride was only for a moment. Then he was moving again.
“Please!” she said once more. “Please think about it. I know it is so much to ask—”
“You got that right, Sister,” he grumbled, having reached the hall.
“Wait!” Lyra stumbled, following. “I thought we were going to talk about this fully.”
“I have some work I need to do,” he muttered, having reached his office door. “And please do no' disturb me, 'Na Lyra. I will be making a couple important wires.”
The close of the door invoked a hollow echo through the house as Lyra stood solemn and alone, fighting to take command of her emotions. This was the way it kept going with them. Up and down and up and down. It was exhausting.
Returning to the vanity to finish stashing the Tohmu'vah in its new hiding place, Lyra did her best to shake off yet another argument with her conflicted Caldreen'n lord. Maybe a walk outside would be nice. Yes, by the pond. She could collect some sugarpip pods for lunch. The ones she and Jos'lie had found last week were the first of the season and there ought to be more ready for picking by now. It would give Lyra something constructive to do while J'Kor took what time he needed to blow off steam. Then, they could smooth things over again. Somehow.
Between the steady sunshine, the pleasant rustle of late morning breeze, and the pint of crisp, colorful pods she eventually had cradled in her apron, Lyra started to feel better. She had faith that they would be able to work things through. If the miracle of her freedom wasn't granted, surely God would help her continue living chaste in the home of the man that she had unavoidably grown to—let's just face it—love.
Please guide us, Father. Help us know what to do.
She had turned the last corner of the house on her way back to the porch when Lyra was surprised to behold a local police rig parked in the yard, much like the one that detective had used.
What jumped from the carriage and came striding toward her, though, was not him. It was several uniformed men.
“May I help you?” Lyra said.
“You will come with us, please,�
� one said while two others took positions on either side of her.
A foreboding chilled Lyra to the bone. “Will you please tell me what this is about?”
“This way, Mistress.” The man gestured toward the rig and hands were placed at her back. They began to usher her to the back of the black carriage with its ominous compartment and barred windows.
“Wait, at least let me speak to my lord, first,” Lyra tried, panic rising. J'Kor wouldn't let them take her. He would stop this.
The cell compartment's door swung open, revealing a musty, dingy interior. Lyra reflexively shied away, resisting, but multiple sets of strong arms insisted otherwise, and forgotten sugarpips spilled to the ground, getting squished underfoot as Lyra was speedily forced inside like an animal.
“My lord!” Lyra clambered onto the rickety bench, grimy with human filth, and peered out the small side window. Unfortunately it was not angled well toward the home's front. “My lord!” she screamed again.
“Shut up, woman!” one of the men griped with a click of the door's padlock. “No one is going to come save you. I have my orders. And a headache, besides,” he muttered as he stalked to the rig's front and climbed aboard. “Was supposed to go fishing today, blast it all, but no! Some lord had to wire, demanding a khar pick up—all the way to the capital's compound! My day is completely shot. …”
Lyra heard no more. It felt like a churung had just landed on her chest.
No! It couldn't be! He wouldn't have done that! “My lord!” she cried again. “My lord, PLEASE!”
A minute later, more men climbed aboard and the rig began to move. Nothing came from the house. No mystical, glowing fireballs. No courageous, passion-induced rescue.
Not even a resigned goodbye.
No J'Kor.
No Kade.
With tears in her eyes, Lyra watched the J'Kor home get smaller and smaller, growing hazy with distance and sunlight. When it dropped out of sight, she slid to the floor in a trembling, sobbing heap.
It can't be. It can't be …
Time passed miserably.
Eventually the sounds of the city began to waft through the window bars: traffic, pedestrians, vendors, beasts of burden. By the time the police rig slowed to a halt before a dark and intimidating structure with Caldreen National Military Headquarters emblazoned across the top in shining, stone-carved letters, Lyra was a picture of stoic solidarity as she was passed off from county law enforcement into the hands of waiting army guards. They had her tracker and papers, too—everything J'Kor required to be rid of her forever.
Through a series of sparse, cold rooms and dimly lit corridors, she was taken to a long hall of barred cells lining the walls on either side and painted in a harsh white. It was into one of the first ones that he was placed. A low cot, a steadily dripping water spigot sticking out over a small drain, and a waste bucket in the corner, the extent of his homeyness, but at least it appeared relatively clean. Or rather, bleached and sterile.
The guards left, leaving behind nothing but a bleak, echoing silence and Lyra lifted hollow eyes to her new surroundings. There did appear to be a few other prisoners sharing the wing. Directly opposite Lyra's cell were two other shiftless, inmates in separate compartments—the one lying still on his cot and the other, having been aroused by the activity, standing at the bars gazing dully upon her. He had a slight, but persistent cough.
Wearily, Lyra went to her cot and waited in abject resignation for whatever was going to happen next. As an exposed Believer, to what did she have to look forward? Interrogation? Torture? Work camp? Death? Funny, the engulfing terror that should have descended with each of these ominous prospects didn't even come close to the gouging, heart-shredding torment of J'Kor's betrayal superseding it all.
Ripping. Crushing. Dessicating.
Mere terror would be a relief.
No, he didn't do it! she screamed internally. He wouldn't have turned me in! It was all a big mistake.
Lyra rolled, disconsolate, toward the peeling brick wall. She prayed to her Heavenly Father for forgiveness—without much conviction. She was unworthy. It was her actions that had led to the deaths of her husband and friends. The Tohmu'vah had been discovered and then she had shown it to a Caldreen'n! Furthermore, she had fallen for her Stranger captor, and she had begun to practice magic. What a useless waste of space am I?
This must be her punishment for her utter failure.
A thick fog of hopelessness over her sure state of eternal damnation settled upon Lyra and the tears flowed unchecked. She had betrayed Jon's faith in her. They would never be together again.
Impossibly, the melody of a hymn began to come:
See thou, Thy sheep.
Whither aimless they wander,
Lost in the night
Through the harrowing squall.
Interesting how her imagination was using Jon's voice in her head.
Heed their cry.
Sanctify.
Guide them, oh, Shepherd of all.
No. Not Jon's voice …
“… Sursha?”
The plaintive singing stopped. “… Lyra?”
“Sursha!” Lyra nearly tumbled to the floor in her haste to get over to her barred wall. “Sursha! I'm here!” She stuck her arm through and waved, mashing her face against the bars to see as far down the prison wing as possible.
Eight compartments down on the opposite side, an arm appeared, returning the gesture as a portion of her dear brother-in-law's face stuck out between the rods. A ray of sunshine broke through the clouds of anguish. Father, Thou art more kind than this unfaithful servant deserves!
“Sursha, what happened? Why are you here?”
He answered back, “After you didn't show up for several days, we went searching for you. We found—” His voice turned careful. There were other ears. “—a burn pile at the old site and managed to identify everyone. Everyone but you.” Lyra swallowed a lump at the thought of Jon's and everyone else's remains. “We eventually found ourselves following the khari'na caravan to catch up with you, but ran into trouble with a suspicious guard outside the building after the auction.”
Oh Grally! Lyra groaned. Why did he have to be so good at his job? “We?” she said.
“Peerz and Lowet are with me.”
Each of the other familiar voices gave quick, confirming greetings with Lowet adding, “Do you still have your things? Are they still safe?”
Lyra deflated. Of course. That was the more important reason for them to be looking for her. And look what you have to tell them.
“Uh, yeah—”
“Are you all right, sis?” Sursha inquired. “Has that officer been … hurting you?”
“What officer do you mean?”
“The officer that interrogated us several days ago. He said he was the one that bought you at the auction—that you had been living in his home. Uh, Officer J'—J'—”
To Lyra's amazement, the other two spoke the name of which she had grown so fond.
“J'Kor.”, “Yeah, J'Kor”, “That's right. Officer J'Kor.”
The amazement turned to shock. “You are the business that took him to the city that day?” That was the day she had tried to run. That was the day that was supposed to have marked her moment of freedom.
“Lyra, have you really been living in his home this whole time? As his slave?” The concern in Jon's brother's voice was evident. She almost smiled.
“I have, but, I'm fine. Really. He has grown to be a-a good friend, believe it or not.” At least, he was.
“Really? But hasn't he, er, you know …?” was the very uncomfortable question from Sursha to his brother's wife.
“No. He never did.” Oh my! All the days and nights he exerted such effort to keep his hands off—to stay away—all that wood chopping! It finally became crystal clear and a sad smile broke over her face. “He has been a gentleman.”
“I knew it was God that sent him to us!” The exultation was uttered by her father's old friend, Peerz.
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“What was your experience with him?” Lyra said, intensely curious.
“He didn't tell you about us?” It was Lowet.
“No.” Why hadn't he told her?
Peerz said, “Perhaps he didn't want to say anything until he knew what was going to happen. He told us he was going to recommend a release and even arrange to meet with you, but that it might take some time for the order to go through.”
“He was going to let us meet?” Lyra's heart began to melt.
“That was the line he used, anyway.” Good old, cautious, skeptical Lowet. He had always been that way.
Sursha said, “Lyra, what are you doing here? Hasn't Officer J'Kor been protecting you?”
“I'm, um, not sure, actually. We had a … an argument this morning and he seemed pretty upset. I went outside for a bit and when I came back, there were men waiting for me. I didn't get to see him before I was taken away and I only heard one of the jailers say something about a lord calling to have me picked up.” A new lump started. No. No. NO! She swallowed it down again. He didn't do it! She had to believe! “I know that sounds bad, but I didn't think he was that mad.”
“Typical Caldreen'n scum.” Guess who muttered that.
Peerz changed the subject. “Lyra, where are your 'things'? Are they safe?”
“Yes. They are still at home—I mean, his home.”
“Does he know anything?”
Heavenly Hosts! If only they knew how much she had slipped up there! They were about to find out. “His daughter—”
Light clanking echoed through the cell wing. Someone was coming!
A pair of soldiers entered and walked directly to Lyra's door. “Someone is here for you,” she was told.
Lyra dared not hope, but she quickly wiped her face dry and stepped out. She could only offer one longing glance toward Sursha, Peerz, and Lowet's anxious faces, who, likewise, bid her silent, worried farewells with their eyes. The soldiers moved her down the corridor and through the first set of guarded doors, apparently backtracking to the entrance. At the last check point before the public lobby, one of her escorts handed the guard a document.