《TMoS - King's Domain》


 Foreword

    Synopsis: "Oliver Twist meets Lord of the Rings": A young man becomes aware of several things in his life and takes matters into his own hands.


    Distribution: You can get this book for free at steverhohill.wordpress.com and you are welcome to send it to anyone you like.  Ideas cannot be destroyed.  Great and good ideas should be freely and widely available.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    TMoS01 - King¡¯s Domain


    by Steve Rho Hill


    For Msheekha and His Mishkah

 Chapter 1

    Quote of Tyth:


    ¡°The heavy stone, once pushed from it¡¯s silent slumber, atop


    that hill of aggregate sin, gaining the speed of just anger from


    gravity of time, rolling through friend and foe in equal apathy of


    furious spin. Engine of myriad ripples, that. And in so have I then


    affected eternity¡¯s progression. I have wrought destruction and


    creation alike. Evil and good in congression. Woe and Glorious


    am I: the product of my own devised plot. I¡¯d set them in


    motion; those things which I now could not stop.¡±


    Summer of 107


    Wind pushed the tree. Branches swayed. ¡°Ty?¡± Nela spoke up, sitting nearby, staring up as well. ¡°Whatcha looking at?¡±


    No answer. Because it didn¡¯t make sense. There must be more to it. The leaves moved loudly from a gust, which was distracting. ¡°Oh. Just thinking about the wind¡­¡± My reply was as light and empty as the air that could not be seen.


    ¡°What about it?¡±


    ¡°It¡­I don¡¯t know what causes it. Or what it does.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re crazy, Ty.¡± This followed with her face coming into view, and her hands slapping on to my chest. A scrunched up nose added to her tone. ¡°It¡¯s the wind. It blows.¡± She shrugged, adding simple truth to her words while also hurting my ribs.


    ¡°But why?¡± A dumb question. Because of course she wouldn¡¯t know. In place of response, she went to play with an ant found nearby. Watching her now, the brightness of the day stuck to the yellowness of her dress and was almost blinding when compared to the dark colors of the birch¡¯s wood and leaves.


    The warmth of the sun would¡¯ve made sleep so sweet, with the grass brushing calmly against me, but the wind - that thing not understood - brought sudden cold from somewhere hidden far off, and a shudder came on as my legs felt warm while my arms felt cold. It made my skin feel alive, as if ready to burst off of me. Weird feeling.


    In all other lives, this long lazy Sunday evening would be good. A time of rest in a place of simple nature. But tomorrow was coming, and for that reason my mind was tense. The branches kept swaying above us.


    ¡°Still thinking about the wind?¡± Nela chirped with some kind of worry in her voice, blonde hair giving the same kind of shine as the sun. But I was too lost to give her concern much notice.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I moved my eyes to the leaves as I leaned against the tree. But even though I tried, I couldn''t think of anything to do. That''s all I really had. Thinking. There was so much that I didn''t have. But I had my mind. And though it made trouble at times, at least I had control over that. It was my power. No one could get at it but me. And if I thought the right things, then maybe I could be the one in control. So think, Tyth. Think! What can you do to make tomorrow better?


    ¡°I wonder what other family he might have.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°This ant. He seems so lonely.¡±


    I frowned at her. My sister was a simple but pure soul. Very concerned about others. Not herself though. And so my feelings bled for her, because in any other family she would have the life she deserved. But not here¡­


    This thought brought with it another kind of frustration. And also a more painful kind of unease. Now the only thing to do was walk back to the house, climb up the side yard¡¯s slope, and think about being careful to not break the back door. The top hinge gave way slightly if it was opened too hard and dad already gave me a spanking once for almost breaking it. Another time he gave me a spanking for simply using that door. ¡®Why can''t you use the front door?!¡¯. But I had learned to just roll the dice and take the chance. Couldn''t be afraid of him. Let him beat me. The reasons for why he did it were never the same, so I had no control over how I got in trouble anyway.


    The wind stopped suddenly. I was just at the back door, fingers out and ready to open. The sun shining warmly, a beautiful day. Warm fuzzies like fire through my thin hair. Everything going still for just a small time. The short walk through the yard had been enjoyable, and if I knew how, I would¡¯ve filled my day with other times of simple joy just like it. A smile came with the feeling, and a yawn followed. My sister looked across the yard and also smiled when noticing the grin on my face. But a few seconds laters, the wind picked back up and everything was cold again.


    I turned back to the door. A plan had now started working its way into the light. Walking through the door, into the house, with a hard look on my face, I tried not to show how nervous and delicate the plan was, good as it seemed.


    ¡°Mom, can I walk into town? I want to be there early and get to the bookstore right when it opens.¡±


    Mom sat on her stool, peeling carrots. Fire was burning nearby as water was starting to boil in the pot above. Stew was pretty much what we had every day. It was one of the only steady things in life, the fact that mom would be sitting on that stool almost everyday, making a meal. While peeling, her head went down a little as she stuck out a bottom lip and tilted her head. Peeling stopped for a few seconds before there was an answer. ¡°Alright.¡±


    Yes. The first part of the plan was in motion. Into the bedroom where the three of us kids slept. There, the little cabinet that held the shared clothes. Now to figure out carrying a change of clothes into town. Maybe wear an outer layer of farm clothing and take that off when in town? After finding a quick place to change, for sure. Then those inner clothes would be worn to the bookstore tomorrow. If the clothes were hidden well enough underneath, mom wouldn¡¯t know or ask questions.


    ¡°Why a bookstore?¡± Mom called from the kitchen. It wasn''t a far ways to yell.


    I had done myself in the excitement of planning. I didn''t mean to let on where I was going. But she would wanna know. Mom did care. In her own way.


    ¡°Ummm...¡± Quick. A lie. Fast. ¡°I have a friend who wants to meet me there.¡± That would be a safe lie. Mom didn''t keep too close an eye on my friends. She trusted us kids, since we were well-behaved. Maybe ¡®cause dad beat it into us.


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    Now on with more planning. ¡°All right...next is what food I need.¡± Money wasn¡¯t available, so eating in town tomorrow wouldn¡¯t work. The best idea is..., I told myself. Is to eat the stew now, and then get some of it to take with me for tomorrow''s breakfast and maybe lunch.


    Great idea. But two things. First, how do you carry it? My mind spit the answer back almost immediately.


    Good point. You need a bowl or something. I responded while throwing on some nice clothes.


    Or maybe you could put bread in it, turn it into a...what do you call that?


    I know what you mean but I don''t know what it''s called.


    Well, turn it into that and make it something more solid. Then take that in a box. Or if you have to, figure out how to turn it stale and make it easy to carry in a bag. The bread I mean...and you could just take the bread all by itself.


    All right. Well, bowl is better. The stale bread thing is a backup.


    Agreed.


    Then we just need to figure out how to carry the food.


    All right.


    After quickly dressing in the double layer of clothing, I still couldn''t think of a way to carry a soup with bread in it. It took several minutes to give up on the effort, before walking back to the kitchen. ¡°I''ll eat before I leave in the morning. But I want to take some with me for lunch maybe. What do I do?¡±


    Mom thought for a minute. ¡°Umm...you could take the leftovers in a bowl.¡± Mom pointed to where we kept the food items (bowls / plates / knives / whatnot).


    The idea was upsetting. Asking her for the favor was a loss. The fight of thoughts done in the bedroom was a battle in a bigger war. Trying to learn how to think and fend for myself was the purpose. Getting a bowl from her was also relying on her and even though the help would be accepted because it was required, it wasn¡¯t a given that help would always be there. Sure, she was still looking over her children. Mom was required to do so. But I didn¡¯t want that to be an excuse for not owning my own bowl.


    ¡°All right. Thanks mom.¡± I smiled at her and gave her a hug. She had given the thing needed to make the trip a success. And even though it would have been better to do the planning and the trip itself alone, sometimes it just couldn¡¯t happen that way. Or at least, it wasn''t my fault that I was fifteen.


    ¡°Of course.¡± Mom went back to peeling the carrots, but before she did: ¡°Ask your brother and sister if they want to go with you.¡±


    The front door was only a pace away. I¡¯d gotten that far before her command. Would it be better to try and talk her out of that idea? No. Not worth it. With a quiet sigh I instead made my way back into the backyard.


    ¡°NELA!¡± Calling for my younger sister was a matter of faith, hoping she wasn''t off in the middle of nowhere. The sunny day was still going. Daylight and a lack of close eyes seemed to give her ideas. She got in trouble far more than anyone else, but faced less punishment than was even deserved (useless just a few words to be more careful). In the balance of things, it wasn¡¯t so bad that she suffered from the benefits of being the youngest. She could be suffering far worse¡­


    ¡°What?!¡± The answer came from the other side of the barn, over the fence. Nela wasn''t really supposed to be over where the cows were (steers actually, but she didn''t know the difference). Mom and dad weren''t super concerned about her being over there, but they did warn us to not be too close to the livestock around certain times of the seasons (and for why they refused to tell). Still, Nela was a bit of a rebel at times.


    ¡°Mom says I need to ask you if you wanna come into town with me!¡± The words were shouted loudly, because joining her in the pasture wasn¡¯t something to be done unless absolutely needed. The big beasts were scary.


    Nela came to the left side of the barn and into view. ¡°Where you going?¡± Dirt had already stained her clothes at the knees and below. Her bright gold hair was also smothered in the stuff.


    ¡°Town¡±. I repeated.


    ¡°Where in town?¡± Her hands went to her hips as she tilted her head. Her voice was frustrated, like I was stupid.


    ¡°The bookstore.¡±


    ¡°Hmm...¡± Nela stuck out her bottom lip and thought about it for a couple minutes. ¡°No thanks.¡± She turned around at this and went back to picking wild flowers out of the pasture and sticking them in her hair. One down. One more to go. It would have been surprising if she had wanted to go read books anyway.


    Since he wasn''t with Nela, finding my older brother would be easy. He had a habit of sitting on the front porch and watching the clouds. After circling the rest of the house, he was found there, looking up at the sky.


    ¡°Bela...¡± Approaching slowly and speaking soft, I treated him with a bit more respect (or caution) than anyone else in our family.


    Bela didn''t move or look around. His eyes kept to the sky. That was his way. The world kind of just . . . moved . . . around him. But he wouldn¡¯t react too much or say anything that showed what he was thinking. People thought him a little slow for it. But that was their mistake.


    ¡°Bela...¡± I continued again, quite sure he''d heard. ¡°Would you like to go into town with me?¡±


    It took a matter of long moments, but Bela eventually gave the slightest wrinkle in his eyebrows. He had heard me all right. So I kept waiting. More seconds passed.


    ¡°Umm...¡± Bela still kept staring off into the clouds, even as he spoke. ¡°I don''t know.¡±


    This was another of his ways. Making decisions was hard, even simple ones. Yet a kind heart was underneath. Because of that, I always felt bad about prodding him into any certain direction. This time though, maybe time away from home would be good for him. For many reasons...


    ¡°Why don''t you come with me? It would be good.¡±


    Bela finally looked away from the clouds. ¡°Okay.¡± He got up slowly and stood there, waiting.


    ¡°Good.¡± I felt a strange urge to hug him, just from happiness for him. But then another thought showed itself. ¡°Oh...it''s going to be a long walk. Are you sure you want to come? And I''ll be in town overnight.¡±


    Bela thought it over before responding that he still wanted to go. Which was an even happier thing, given how lonely the trip was going to be on foot. ¡°Ok!¡± Hurrying over a list of things in my mind, there didn¡¯t seem to be anything else that needed doing-


    ¡°Why are you wearing two shirts?¡± Bela asked the question just as I was about to explain.


    ¡°Oh yes, about that. I have on nice clothes that I''ll be wearing in town tomorrow. You should grab some too.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because we''re going to the bookstore.¡±


    ¡°We have to dress up for that?¡±


    That¡¯s right, he had never been there. Bela wasn¡¯t much for books, even though he knew how to read well enough.


    ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Bela agreed to join anyway, and I waited for him to gather his own set of clothes and food (and he borrowed a second bowl from mom). Bela asked why a walking stick was needed, and I told him it would be explained tomorrow. Also, setting off into town would take awhile, so it was important to take a big drink of water and use the outhouse before leaving. Bela might not have thought about that, but that¡¯s why he had his family to watch out for him.


    The walk into town started off fairly uneventful but after an hour or two, a huge mistake became obvious to Bela: we had nothing to use to buy books.


    ¡°Ty, what are you going to use to buy the books from the bookstore?¡±


    I stopped walking for a minute and Bela stopped as well. We were on the edge of a field owned by some random neighbor of ours, a couple miles down the road. In a place like this, I''d only taken the time to really ever meet my nearest neighbors. My parents knew these people, maybe, but not me.


    A small vial was pulled from my pocket that had a stone and yarn stopper. "What if we use some of this?"


    Bela looked at it for a second. His face scrunched up as he looked at me with confusion. "That isn¡¯t ours."


    "So? It¡¯s kind of ours, if you think about it." I shrugged my shoulders.


    Bela stared for a bit. Then he also shrugged his shoulders, but in a different way, looking at the ground. "I don''t think it''d be right. It¡¯s stealing."


    "I mean, sure. But I need something to use to barter for some books." Hopefully, although it had never worked, I could convince Bela to do the wrong thing.


    He looked back up. "It''s still wrong, Ty."


    Ty was his nickname for me. He used it, and that meant Nela used it. And hearing it from him made me feel like the younger brother I was.


    Still. Books were needed so I could learn. There was no other way that could be thought of, even after much planning.


    "Well," I began, trying to convince him. "if I took this and you don''t have to do anything-" I gave a quick nod to indicate I wanted to keep speaking, so Bela wouldn''t interrupt me. "Then I can sell it for books and after I''m done with those, I''ll trade them back for something worth the cost. Then I¡¯ll make everything right. Deal?"


    "I don''t think I like the idea...but I guess I can''t stop you."


    "You could tell on me¡­"


    "Yeah, but...I don''t wanna get you in trouble."


    I felt guilty quite a bit, since Bela cared more for his family than he did his own conscience. Still, I was using that to get what I wanted...for the good of my own learning...and it was such a small thing. And under that lie...it was known to us both that I would not plan to give back what I had taken.


    "It¡¯s a small thing." The words fell on deaf ears, but as I put the vial back in my pocket, he took no steps to stop me.


    Spending the night just outside of I''lochin was easy if you knew where to sleep. A couple townsfolk were friends and didn¡¯t mind if we slept out in the hay loft, so long as we didn¡¯t hurt the animals. Mom knew them well and her not asking about where we would sleep meant she thought it would be here.


    In the morning, we entered the town in our clean and proper clothes from the West road, one of the only three that went anywhere in or out. The one to the West went to V''alen, ¡°the big city¡±, as everyone called it. V''alen was a few weeks'' walk from what I had heard. And the only other road went South. That went into a very wild country, but a few farmers lived on that road just before where the snow would fall almost constantly. I don¡¯t know why, but the day felt full of opportunities and I was excited to the point of almost dancing. There was so much to do, and now I felt like I had little time to do them all.


    Even so, I''lochin was just a place that laid out in the middle of nowhere, and after some people got rich enough to need the finer things, a place was built to serve that purpose. Mostly a bar and a few stores where things were sold, but also a number of houses where people had started to live in the main part of town. By the time I had been born, it was in the hundreds. Not yet a thousand, but halfway there. It was growing, even though it was in the middle of nowhere. I had been told that it was because the rising cliffs to the south were good for protecting from the harsh winter winds. I did not know that for sure, because we never entered town during the winter. The cart was not able to make that trip, and mom and dad were not willing to risk killing our single horse by doing such a hard thing.


    Still, I had always wanted to live in town. The countryside seemed frightening somehow. The almost always constant flames around town that were lit at night made the place come alive. In the country, the eerie moon¡¯s glow was all that you had to see by. Many shadows would move in the moon¡¯s blue light. But here even the shadows had a warm and embracing yellowish glow touching their edges. It felt safer here surrounded by strangers, more than it did alone with family¡­


    Bela walked close by, nervous around new people. He did not share the same love of town. Too many people, he had said once or twice. But still, he had probably come with, out of some kind of idea to protect me. He was the big brother after all, and even though he was fairly skinny, he was very strong, having joined uncle Nelg¡¯s masonry business at the time he could start wielding a tool. And now he was pretty much running the business (under Nelg¡¯s supervision). Bela would one day be the owner, if he ever ¡°got his head on straight¡±. Uncle Nelg wasn¡¯t one to mince words, and he told Bela more than once that he was being stupid in the way he handled money and customers. So currently Bela wasn¡¯t allowed to handle the actual business itself. He was just making a portion of the products sold.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Uncle Nelg had a fair point, though mistreating Nela with such harsh instruction was almost completely unforgivable. Bela was good as a mason. But he was not built to be a businessman. If someone else were to run the business, Bela could be the shop manager, but not the person behind the register. And to own the business, someone would need to know how to do everything. Well, almost everything. Bela could do all of the tradecraft stuff. He just needed someone on the management side.


    The idea had crossed my mind once or twice to become a mason. To learn the craft and then be Bela¡¯s boss. I¡¯d even thought about bringing it up to him. But thought better of it. I did not want to be trapped in I''lochin for my whole life. And it would be a let down to give Bela that kind of hope.


    Coming into town usually meant passing by Uncle Nelg¡¯s store, where he shared part of a building with a carpenter. Bela made items that sold there, and it was always the place that Uncle Nelg or some random store clerk could be found. Lately, a girl by the name of R''osy had started tending to the shop, which we were all very surprised by. She was of a much different stock and much fancier than anyone in our family was used to, as she wore much nicer clothes and could read and write much better than even my parents.


    Bela had fallen for her almost immediately. So had I.


    But when Bela started talking about her, my dreams were put to rest, never talking about my own feelings or revealing them to my older brother. R''osy was more his age, and he needed someone in his life more than I needed someone in mine. I would be traveling the world one day, and as I¡¯d learned from my mother, women were not meant to be so keen on adventure.


    Now that I thought about it, Bela could have been joining me just to stop by and say hi to her. And I thought about whether I should ask him if we should stop by and see how business is doing. But he took the opportunity from me.


    ¡°Where is the bookstore?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? There¡¯s barely enough places to call this a town.¡± I pointed down the street, at the place where all three roads meet. ¡°It¡¯s in the town circle. You can¡¯t miss it.¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah¡­¡± He looked down the road, with a dreamy look in his eyes. ¡°Isn¡¯t Uncle Nelg¡¯s store down there?¡±


    I couldn¡¯t hold back a smile.


    ¡°It is.¡± I looked at him and waited for him to return my stare. ¡°Do you wanna say hi to R''osy?¡±


    Bela blushed a little. ¡°No.¡± He lied so tellingly that he just immediately undid it. ¡°I mean, yeah. I¡¯d like to.¡±


    That blush made its way to my own cheeks. ¡°Let¡¯s go¡± I was happy for my brother¡¯s affection, for the looks of life in him. I could have skipped alongside him on the way to the center of I''lochin.


    R''osy stood on top of several wood boxes, putting small trinkets on shelves normally too high for her. The little shop was becoming full with figurines of dogs, cats, houses, and other simple shapes. Bela was quite good, and he was also a hard worker. The trinkets were his making, and I wondered, in this moment, how Bela might be thinking about Rosy''s delicate fingers, as she handled the trinkets he would make. Would she think of him when she put them on the shelves¡­? A little spring of jealousy mixed with foolishness and shame came quickly. Those thoughts felt like they were through someone else¡¯s. I didn¡¯t belong in them, trying to see into the romance between two people. So no more thoughts about that, realizing I was being very odd: wondering to myself something they would never know I thought about.


    ¡°Oh, hi boys!¡± R''osy called us boys every time she saw us, even though she was one year younger than Bela. I never knew if it was a nice thing or if it was something worth getting mad about. To be talked to as if a child, and R''osy was an adult to see over us. Mad was definitely near to the top of the list than feeling complimented. Bela never seemed to notice or mind, though he¡¯d never been asked for his thoughts on the matter.


    ¡°Hi.¡± Bela gave the reply in a flat way.


    ¡°What can I do for you?¡± R''osy went back to putting the trinkets on the shelves.


    ¡°We just¡­¡± Bela looked for words. When he couldn¡¯t find any, he looked to me for help. A common and predictable behavior for him. Though I didn¡¯t sigh out loud, the sadness and slight annoyance was felt deep inside, because my older brother was likely to need a savior for most of his life.


    ¡°We just came in to see how things are selling!¡± I prepared to explain why we were in town, and I thought it might make us seem less interested in seeing R''osy only. So I did. ¡°And since we were in town anyway, we thought, why not?¡± Shrugging my shoulders on the last two words was kind of worthless, because R''osy couldn¡¯t see it, her back to us and all.


    ¡°Ah.¡± There was a very short silence between her sentences, while she fussed with just the right angle for a rock made in the shape of a small dog. ¡°Business is good! We are selling quite a number of these little animals and things that you¡¯ve been making, Bela!¡± R''osy looked around to smile at him. Her hair moved a lot, now that she¡¯d grown it out for the summer. And it wiggled especially so when she turned her head very quickly like that.


    So she knew that he made the trinkets. Bela blushed deeply and shuffled in place slightly. ¡°Thank you...R''osy.¡±


    She let a moment linger before replying. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, Bela.¡±


    They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, and it quickly became awkward. It would be great to break that silence somehow. We could¡¯ve said our goodbyes and left, but Bela wanted to continue talking to her. He was just unsure on how to do it. Yet again, more rescuing.


    ¡°R''osy¡­¡± I chimed in, taking her attention from Bela. There was an almost audible sound of Bela letting a breath escape. He had gone motionless from the moment they locked eyes. ¡°I never asked. But you¡¯ve been here for a month or so. At the store I mean. What made you start working here?¡±


    ¡°Umm...money?¡± R''osy tilted her head in a curious way, as if the question was a silly one.


    ¡°Oh yeah.¡± It was now my turn to blush. It was a silly question.


    ¡°And what do you do?¡± Her question put me off balance, so to speak.


    ¡°Me? Well...I don¡¯t really do anything for money. But I do help my dad out with his work every once in a while.¡±


    ¡°Your father is...Eneres?¡±


    There was an instant bit of heat in my cheeks from the way she emphasized his name. ¡°Yes, he is.¡± I didn¡¯t mean to, but I glared at her. Moments later, realizing what I was doing, I caught myself and stopped.


    R''osy must have picked up on the feelings, because she just simply went ¡°Oh¡­¡± and stopped speaking.


    The short conversation came to a finish and the desire appeared to end it completely. But what happened was just staring at the floor, not sure what to do next. Awkward silence quickly rejoined. Quiet filled the room, as there were no real customers at the moment. A clerk for the carpenter¡¯s side of the room was busy at work, probably trying to pretend to notice anything from Uncle Nelg¡¯s side of the shop. He could have been the owner of the shop, maybe. Or maybe a worker for the owner. The way R''osy was for Uncle Nelg. But for now, the focus wasn¡¯t on the clerk.


    ¡°Ty, we should get on to the book store¡­¡± Bela seemed to want to go and I felt the same.


    ¡°Bookstore?¡± R''osy chirped in.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± She wanted to go with us, it seemed. At the moment, her being around was about the last good thing in the world that could be thought of. But also Bela might give me some lip if he noticed the way she had been so rudely treated just now.


    ¡°I wish I could go¡­¡± She made an expression on her face that looked something like sadness but also...something else. It wasn¡¯t really all that sad. But it wasn¡¯t a mean face. It was at least obvious that she was being honest.


    Bela looked at me for a second, and he showed plainly on his face that he also wanted her to join us. It took a couple seconds too long, but I gave in. ¡°Come with us.¡±


    ¡°Oh I can¡¯t. I¡¯m here for the rest of the morning. Or at least, until Nelg re-manifests.¡±


    The word ¡°re-manifests¡± was a new and unknown word, but her meaning was easy to understand all the same.


    Bela looked upset at the news. ¡°Well¡­¡± He was thinking. Probably trying to see if he could get a way for R''osy to come.


    The shopkeep for the carpenter¡¯s side of the store spoke up. ¡°I can watch your side if you want, R''osy.¡±


    ¡°Oh you could?! That would be wonderful!¡± R''osy danced slightly, though her feet never left the floor. More like a slight up and down motion. ¡°It is such a lovely day. I would so like to join you!¡±


    Seeing a chance, some excuse came to mind, and was said as soon as the words could form: ¡°Are you sure Nelg will be ok with that?¡±


    R''osy stopped being so happy and her dancing quieted down. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of that.¡± She stuck out her lips slightly, making a face like she was thinking. A finger went to her lips, as she got lost in thought.


    Now there was a curious thing. In rare moments I would realize that other people had their own free will. R''osy had hers. And peek into her mind was impossible for anyone else. Only she knew what she was thinking. As much as anyone else would like to or even as willing as she might be. She had a bunch of things going on that no one else could see. The same was true with everyone else. Everyone was a mystery. That seemed to be reasonable and true, especially because of just how much thinking I did myself. Others must do the same. In that way, I was just like everyone else.


    ¡°Atri, do you think Nelg would mind?¡±


    Atri, who actually was the owner of the carpenter business (His name was displayed in big letters on the wall next to him as ¡°Atri¡¯s Carpentry¡±) replied. ¡°Oh yes. We¡¯re good friends, R''osy. I¡¯ll make sure that you won¡¯t get in trouble.¡± His smile was too big for and instantly unlikable. It seemed false. But that could¡¯ve been driven by the anger from R''osy joining us, regardless of attempts to make it otherwise. Bela would be happy though, and my feelings would have to be tucked deep down because of him. For his own good at least. But even still, if there were ways to get R''osy to not be with us for the rest of the day, they would be taken.


    Outside, the sun was bright and the morning had a lazy feel to it. The bookstore was just a few buildings down, but it might as well have been on the other side of the world. It was the last place in the world that felt desirable right now. R''osy was intruding, and she had mentioned father in a way that made the blood boil.


    It seemed that rumors were starting to surround him, and R''osy had learned of them through gossip. Possibly from Uncle Nelg. Very hot anger was starting to boil in the chest. And confusingly, I also wanted to run away and cry for a bit. But R''osy could not see any of it. It would add to the embarrassment. Quiet. Be not true to self. So she would not see.


    My brain did a trick that it had been taught a couple months ago. In my mind I thought of a room, and in it I took the anger and sat it in a corner. I went to the other corner. I looked at the anger. I told it: ¡°you have no control over me¡±. I said this to the anger, calmly, to show that I was in control. The anger was now trapped in the corner. And when I felt ready, I walked out the room.


    Now. In control again. Smiling and pretending that it was wonderful that R''osy was with us, looking into her eyes was once again doable. ¡°Ready to look at books?¡± The downside to a death of feelings was it made the desire for books also dead. There would be no joy now, even though the morning was still bright, and the day after her leaving might still be full of beauty. But so went this little trick of mind.


    The bookstore was not a very big place, and the number of different books it had was also small. Most of them had to do with farming. The few others were related to Ygh, or so one could tell from the pictures on the front. Still, there was a heavy desire to know what was in these books. Mother had taught us children how to read our own personal Yghtl, so we at least knew words, but we were still not allowed to read the books at the store unless they were paid for. Those were the rules. R''osy had said she was only there to ¡°browse¡± (whatever that word meant) and hang out, and Bela was here to follow. Which made me the only one here with a mission.


    There wasn¡¯t much to catch the eye, most of the same old boring books. And I was just beginning to give up and pick the biggest one I could find (a large book called "ground yields a quarter and rituals to increase growth"). But luck was smiling in this space, as a tattered little book was found, hidden between two dark and uninteresting books. The book, brown, but with faint yellow writing said ¡°Lands and Songs¡±.


    It was an odd title, and there was no way to know what to make of it. But desperation set in to find out.


    ¡°Find anything interesting, Ty?¡± Bela stayed close during the whole time in the store, but seemed not aware that I had fixed my eyes on the small book buried between some other larger ones.


    ¡°I think so¡­¡± My reply came slowly, thoughts vanished to somewhere else, the mind far away.


    ¡°Let¡¯s buy it then.¡±


    It was now time to fill him in. ¡°I won¡¯t be exactly buying it, Bela.¡± I whispered this to him, best as able. The shop owner wouldn¡¯t overhear, but R''osy absolutely would. That couldn¡¯t be helped.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Bela was the one to reply, but they both stared with a very worrying look.


    R''osy had more understanding about the need for being secret. ¡°You¡¯ll steal it?!¡± She whispered it, but just barely. Bela¡¯s eyes widened, the look on his face one of horror.


    ¡°No.¡± I shook my head very hard. ¡°Let¡¯s talk outside.¡±


    Once outside, it was possible to take the conversation where it needed to go. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    Leading them out of the town circle, we went down the row of houses on the north road. Near the edge of town, a small alley was entered that led behind one of the apartment complexes. A staircase along the back led up to the flat roof. From here, crossing to the other side gave a view of the street. Before leaning over the edge, yesterday¡¯s clothes were pulled from the knapsack and layed down on (to keep the nice clothes from getting dirty) as I got on my stomach to peer down the street. No one seemed to be out and about, as it was still mid-morning on a Monday. The morning busy work would have died down as people entered their shops or set off for the day. There was no chance of being spotted.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    Bela¡¯s question didn¡¯t distract from the goal and I told him to wait. R''osy had been silent since we left the bookstore, but it was apparent that her own curiousness was growing. Leaning over the ledge, it was important to not dangle more than one arm over the side at the same time. No danger of slipping that way.


    The wooden doors were just within reach by using the walking stick that had been also packed for the trip. After giving those doors a slight tap, it was time to wait for a response. I also recognized now that my heart hadn¡¯t stopped beating hard since we left the bookstore.


    A moment later, a young man with sharp features popped his head out. He looked down into the street for only a half second before looking up at me. ¡°Tyth.¡± He said with a wicked smile.


    ¡°Lands and Songs?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    The vial made its way out of my pocket. After tying it to a string on the walking stick to carefully drop it to the young man, I rolled away from the ledge, so as not to be seen on the street. The whole thing took less than a minute.


    On the roof, Bela stood there in silence, but R''osy had already seemed to catch on. ¡°Interesting.¡± That was the only thing that she said.


    ¡°Ty, I don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°The books are expensive, Bela.¡± It was a serious and sad thing to speak as truth. If it was possible to pay for them with some kind of money, it would¡¯ve been happily done. ¡°Gahn makes copies of the originals and the book store sells them. I just pay Gahn since he will give me a book for cheap.¡±


    Bela was trying to take this in, but R''osy was already a couple steps ahead. ¡°How did you meet Gahn? And you can¡¯t afford the books yourself can you? I was remiss to think that of you. How unkind of me.¡±


    ¡°Remiss¡± was yet another unknown word, but she was never going to know that. She knew too much about us already, and in response, anger and shame woke up again in the other room of my mind. I double checked the lock on the door and went back to being in control over my mind. By doing that, I also lost my sadness. I was without emotion again.


    ¡°What does ¡®remiss¡¯ mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh,¡± She blushed slightly. ¡°it means that I took a misstep.¡±


    Thinking that over, and going back over what she said, it made sense now. ¡°Ok.¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± She said this as a way of trying to ask the question again, but without being rude.


    ¡°Yes, we don¡¯t have the money to pay for books the right way.¡± Lucky to be in control of emotions now, because if she were to see what feelings would be coming at her, if I wasn¡¯t so strong¡­


    ¡°And¡­¡± She was pausing at the beginning of her speech, to probably be as kind as possible. That felt like pity being given on her end. Even though she was probably really just trying to be nice. It was yet another effort to understand why she was doing what she was doing. ¡°How did you meet Gahn?¡±


    Remembering the way Gahn had shown up, it was decided best not to share the whole story. ¡°He was a customer at my dad¡¯s shop.¡± That answer left a question, and so a follow up was needed. ¡°He said he was a ¡®transcriber of books¡¯. I asked what that was. He told me. And so I talked to him about buying them from him instead.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± She seemed to understand this and accept it. It had become a normal thing very quickly to her, it seemed, this dishonest practice. ¡°Well, as someone who loves books, I¡¯m not sure I can fault you entirely.¡± Her face made a smile, but it was somewhat forced. She didn¡¯t really like these not-honest dealings, it seemed. But she was probably trying to make sense of it and be polite at the same time.


    Bela had not spoken for a bit, and after looking at him, he seemed to have just passed through the whole thing. He was no longer being affected by what was going on around him. In a way, this is maybe what he did on the outside what I had done on the inside: become dead to things. That would be interesting to think about later.


    ¡°So what happens now?¡± R''osy had replaced her smile with a real one, but it now had a wicked look to it. She was letting her interest in the idea get the best of her. ¡°How do you get the book?¡±


    Should she be told more? Not wise. The fewer people who knew would make it easier to keep doing it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I don¡¯t think you should know. I don¡¯t like telling people.¡± To sell the idea, an attempt was made at looking sorry, more sorry than what was probably felt.


    She must have bought it because though she looked a little upset, because her smile disappeared slowly, she said she understood. Which was good. Maybe she was now starting to understand that she was peeking in on someone else¡¯s life, and maybe she was seeing things that someone did not want her to see.


    Thankfully, she pretty much said the same thing: ¡°I guess I¡­¡± She stopped and scrunched her face. ¡°I mean¡­¡± Then she scrunched up her face even more. ¡°Oh¡­¡± She sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should¡¯ve invited myself to go with you both¡­¡±


    Ahh. So that was why she was so frustrated. She was trying to be kind again. To not say what she was thinking.


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s ok, R''osy.¡± Bela reached out his hand to her. ¡°I like that you came along.¡±


    Bela was trying to be sweet. But he had never been great with understanding people. Things he understood. But not people so well. I moved over to him quickly, batting his hand down. The last thing needed was for my brother to be thought of as a creep. ¡°No. I mean.¡± Stuttering for a second and looking at R''osy. ¡°I mean I understand. And there is no harm done¡± I was trying to give her the thing she wanted: to leave. ¡°I¡¯m glad you came along as well.¡±


    The odd way in which Bela had just acted and the odd way in which I had responded would surely worry her. Girls were scared off easily, more so when people acted weird. Things were awkward now and she would probably now really want to leave. Which was good for all of us. Even if Bela didn¡¯t think so. She could not be allowed to tag along with us anymore, even though it would hurt Bela, and that would be sad.


    ¡°I think I should go.¡± R''osy held her arms up to her chest, playing a sign of being shy and also scared. It was the same kind of action in animals who were about to run. We really had shaken her a bit.


    Time to hammer in the nail. ¡°Do you want us to walk you back to the shop?¡± Putting my hand out to her, but only a little as I spoke would hopefully increase the unease. Just enough not to be scary, but also just enough for her to see.


    ¡°That¡¯s ok.¡± She shook her head a little too hard.


    ¡°All right.¡± Pretending to be hurt by the rejection, another offer would seem likely. ¡°Do you want us to stop by in a bit though, to make sure you get back ok?¡±


    R''osy thought it over for a half second. The reply came out too fast. ¡°Oh that¡¯s fine. I know my way back.¡±


    The next words were said with a tone of sadness. ¡°All right.¡±


    Bela didn¡¯t know what to say as she started to walk away, but before she disappeared off the roof, he wished her luck. She thanked him, but the words were barely hearable.


    We were now left alone on the rooftop.


    Bela was likely going to be mad at me now. But it was also possible that we would be completely fine. There was no way to know what he was thinking or what he felt about what had just happened. It was also not known how he felt about his arm being pushed down as he reached for her. But based on the past, wouldn¡¯t hurt anyone (or himself) or get mad. He would question why, if he questioned at all. But he wouldn¡¯t be angry. Or at least not on the outside. If Bela ever did have feelings of rage, they had never come out. No idea if they were there or not. Maybe he was as quiet on the inside of his mind as he was on the outside with everyone else.


    Bela stood there, watching R''osy go. When she finally went down the stairs, he stared off into the sky for a bit. We stood there for a bit, and possibly longer than he would¡¯ve liked. But we were waiting for what he would do, whether he knew it or not. My heart had slowly begun to settle down, ever since leaving the ledge after talking to Gahn. The danger of getting caught was far less now. This was the very first time anything so wrong had been done before. It felt great. To be in control of life, if only in a small way. And at the end of it all, hope was felt. Getting hold of a book could just maybe be the needed change. If there was knowledge in there, it might be just what was needed to escape¡­


    ¡°Bela?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡±


    ¡°Do you want to go back home now?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    Climbing back down to the street, we walked back to the town circle. It would be the easy path back home, without taking the shortest path through the woods. Seeing as how we were still in our nice clothes, going through the woods wasn¡¯t a great idea anyway. We would get back home well before nightfall, so there was no danger of getting lost on the main road. And if we swapped out the nice clothes on the edge of town then strangers would also not be a bother with questions or niceties. Our day clothes on the farm were far from anything nice. Not to say that our good clothes were much to look at. They just didn¡¯t have strings coming off. Mom kept these mended on the regular, as we wore them mostly for deaths, weddings and Yghtls.


    The day became much worse when we entered the town, spotting someone out of the corner of my eye, as we stepped around a building.


    ¡°Bela!¡± I pushed him back out of sight.


    ¡°What?¡± He was surprised, but he had been shoved easily, since he didn¡¯t have a reactive bone in his body.


    ¡°Dad is in town!¡±


    Bela¡¯s face lost all of its color instantly. It took him a moment to speak. ¡°What should we do?¡±


    Thinking this over for a moment took longer than was expected. ¡°We should follow him.¡±


    ¡°Why?!¡±


    ¡°To see where he¡¯s going.¡± Starting off in that direction, careful not to be seen, the simple explanation seemed to be enough, because Bela followed.


    Dad walked through the town circle, heading in the direction of Uncle Nelg¡¯s shop. He went inside for a few minutes. Bela was easily convinced to walk into another shop, on the other side of the circle. It was a tannery. Good view of the town circle. There was also a small chance dad would come here next. If he did, we would have to try our best to hide. Looking around the shop quickly, there were clothes made from hides and other things like blankets were on display. There wasn¡¯t anywhere really to hide. Was there a door in the back? Looking to the counter, the man there was unknown but looked somewhat unfriendly. He was dealing with another customer at the moment, but had spotted our entrance and was giving us a quick glance between words with his customer. We were able to hide here for some amount of time. Deal with the clerk if it came to it.


    Dad came back out of the carpentry and masonry shop, carrying nothing. He must not have bought anything. Probably just checking up on the store. Was R''osy back yet? No time to find out. Dad moved down the street, taking the east road that we had just come from. It was a good decision to hide here. He would¡¯ve seen us for sure if we had stayed outside.


    We followed him down that road, until he turned down a side street. The town wasn¡¯t super big, but there was a small group of buildings on this side, because space was limited. At the beginning of a hill to the south, the cliffs made building houses hard, so things were tighter. And that meant more side streets. I hadn¡¯t been down this one yet, so wasn¡¯t sure how easily we could hide while also following.


    Bela must¡¯ve thought the same thing. ¡°Let¡¯s go back home, Ty.¡± He slightly tugged on my arm.


    I thought it over.


    The reason we didn¡¯t want dad to catch us in town was because he needed to be told when people were going into town. He would always tell us, if I¡¯m buying supplies, you can¡¯t come. I don¡¯t want you getting any funny ideas. Those times when he wouldn¡¯t let us come, he would come back with the more dangerous ingredients for his shop. Only Bela was allowed to go, since he was old enough. And even then he was only allowed to go sometimes. So this must be where he was buying those ingredients. Mom must have not known or forgotten. Otherwise she wouldn¡¯t have let us come into town. She¡¯d probably catch it from dad later, and I shuddered at the thought. I also shuddered at the idea of us catching him. But the ingredients¡­it could maybe be useful to know where to get them some day.


    Telling Bela the idea about this being the place for the dangerous ingredients made him give a very odd twisting with his face. A look on him that had never been seen before. But there was no time to think that over. Still need to follow dad. It would maybe be good to know where he was buying things like Gewd or Starched Sog Root.


    Bela grabbed my arm. ¡°Ty¡­¡±


    Bela had never acted so aggressive. He was holding tightly and he was concerned, I could see that on his face. A deep sigh escaped him. ¡°I know where dad is going¡­¡± He looked down at the ground, and it seemed like he was ashamed. He did not continue talking.


    It took a couple seconds of surprise before the annoyance set in. ¡°...Well?!¡± Tugging away from him did no good. He still held on. ¡°Bela.¡± Slapping his hand caused him to let go of me. But when starting to move away from him brought his hand back. Maybe he needed a stronger slap on the hand. . . But words were probably better. ¡°Bela!¡± He let go of me. He didn¡¯t speak.


    ¡°Bela¡­¡± These words were spoken more softly. A different way of talking might help. ¡°Tell me where he¡¯s going.¡± Then more forceful. ¡°Or else I¡¯m going to follow him anyway.¡±


    Bela stood there, looking at the ground again. He was moving his head back and forth, and his body was moving with him. There was a fight going on inside of him. Very bad things. There must be very bad things happening. He had never acted like this.


    ¡°Dad is¡­¡± The words stopped. But he seemed to need the time to continue. By this time, dad had been lost and only Bela could guide where he was going. ¡°Dad is seeing another woman.¡±

 Chapter 2

    Chapter 2


    I took the information in much faster than I expected. In a second, I was moving to what that could mean. But I stood there, not sure what it meant to me. Before I could think any further, Bela spoke again.


    ¡°When he comes into town to buy his supplies,¡± Bela frowned very hard. ¡°he sees this woman. They¡­¡± Bela let the words go. I knew what was happening. And it was mom who was being betrayed.


    I went numb for a few seconds, but then the anger came up, like a hot coal. It rose from my chest and then entered my head. There it stayed, making my face go red. I looked at the ground too. Staring at the same dirt he was looking at. I thought of all the anger that my dad would take out on his family. And then he would come into town to...to¡­


    I had a decision. Would I take Bela¡¯s word for it? Or would I find out for myself. I decided, without thinking, that I wanted to know it for myself. For some reason, that seemed like it would help.


    ¡°Show me, Bela.¡±


    Bela refused. I threatened to tell mom. And with that, he said ok.


    Bela must have found out this secret himself, because he led me down the side street like he knew where he was going. Peeking around corners, he walked ahead, moving quickly. After our third side street turn, he brought me to a house that was part of a row of houses, all built together as one. The buildings stood four levels high, and that made this part of town a good place for hiding places. No wonder dad had come here.


    ¡°He¡¯s in there.¡± Bela pointed at a door that looked like all the others.


    ¡°How do you know?¡± I looked to Bela for an answer. He did not respond. I thought about trying to get an answer from him. But then I spotted stairs. They led to the other parts of the buildings, so people could get into their rooms at the higher levels. The stairs were on the outside of the building and anyone could walk up them. They weren¡¯t locked. There were windows for all of the houses on those parts, but the one that dad was in had no windows. ¡°You¡¯re sure he¡¯s in this one?¡± Bela nodded, still saying nothing.


    I could not explain it, but I needed to witness the betrayal for myself. Even though I knew I would be even more angry. Again, I don¡¯t know why, but I needed to see. Maybe so I could feel right about being so angry. Maybe¡­


    But that was a big maybe.


    I looked at the stairs and had an idea. ¡°Come with me.¡±


    Moving up the stairs, I went to the spot where one of the people had left out some thick wooden boxes. Moving them around quickly let me find a way to hide in a good place without being seen from anyone below. Nela was also able to lay atop them with me, but when I looked over the edge he refused to do the same.


    After what must¡¯ve been less than an hour, dad left the door that Nela had picked out.


    As I saw him go, I decided that I couldn¡¯t go inside. And so I would miss most of what I wished to know at this moment. But there would be other times. To catch him. I would need to wait. But waiting here would be dangerous.


    With a sigh, I turned back to Bela. "Ok. Let''s go home."


    On the trip back I allowed myself the time to think. If anything, I would stay quiet. Like Bela. He knew a dirty secret, and it had eaten him up. And now I knew it too. But would I stay secret?


    As I walked back home with him, I glanced several times at my older brother. The ¡­ man? Boy? What was he? Older than me by a bit. But so much younger than me in other ways. My...brother...had less fight in him. I was the fighter. The one willing to do something about this secret. And I wonder...did he fear me like we feared dad? Knowing that I might hurt others in my rage? I realized that if I did so I would be just like father¡­


    ¡°Bela¡­¡± I tried my best to be gentle with my voice. ¡°Thank you for telling me.¡± I reached out to him, wanting to squeeze his arm. He made no reaction when I did so. Bela may have been miles away from me at this point, in his mind. But still, he slightly shrugged. I didn¡¯t know what to make of that, but it was better than nothing. I sighed. I felt like I had no power. This secret was too big for me. And it was affecting me, like a monster haunting the dark. Ready to eat me. A weird moment passed where I hated Bela for a second, for telling me. But I let that go. I could not afford to make him an enemy. He would need to be an ally. For my own sanity. I could not hate everyone right now. Too much of it was focused on dad, all ready.


    "Bela...what should we do about dad?"


    He took a while before responding. Again, that was his way. "What can be done?"


    The answer had a lot of feeling in it. He had given up. Maybe in some way, he had told me so that maybe I could do something? I figured I should ask. "Do you want me to do something?"


    Again, a long pause. "I don''t know." A deep frown after.


    "Would you care if I did something?"


    "......It depends on what you would do¡­"


    "......I''ll let you know before I do anything, ok?"


    "...Yeah."


    The rest of the trip back home was silent. But it was a sad silence.


    *


    Later that day, dad returned home. No words were spoken because I had made sure to be playing outside for most of the rest of the day. From the garden, I saw him enter the front door, but I don¡¯t know if he had seen me outside. His eyes never looked anywhere but at the ground as he came up to the house.


    ¡°Ty.¡±


    His voice came from the living room shortly after I kind of crept back inside. It must have been plain that I was the one opening the door. The rest of the family was inside, doing other things that were normal. I was the one not acting normally. Could he tell already?


    ¡°Coming.¡± I answered his call as calm as I could, and walked into the living room, shivering slightly at the doorway, trying to get myself to be blank, not showing anything was odd.


    ¡°Why did you go into town today?¡± He was sitting in a chair that faced away from the door, and as I came into his vision, he looked at me calmly. I could still tell though, behind those eyes there was a quietness that made me very afraid. It was the same look I had seen many times before he had laid into me.


    ¡°I¡­¡± I shivered, against my will. ¡°I was going in to¡­¡± A lie needed to come to me quickly. I had forgotten to plan for it. ¡°To see stuff at the store.¡± He would know I meant Uncle Nelg¡¯s store. But then I remembered what I had told mom. ¡°And to also look at books.¡± My knees started to go weak as I remembered pain on my body from past beatings. ¡°Didn¡¯t mom tell you?¡± I hated myself for wanting to save myself by dragging her into it. But she was mom. I was just a kid.


    The question sat between us, unmoving. Dad looked at me with the quiet danger of a predator, ready to pounce on a mouse. ¡°She told me.¡±


    I almost fell down with relief. A deep sigh of relief escaped me and dad had to have noticed. Yet still his face never changed its calm hateful stare. I heard a small clatter of plates on the other side of the house. Mom¡¯s voice let out a cry that quickly died out. She was doing the dishes? I knew she would be no help to me when going up against Dad. ¡°She told me you went there to see your friend. Who¡¯s your friend?¡±


    ¡°Just a friend¡­¡± I thought of a quick way to get his attention away from me. ¡°A girl.¡± I looked at my feet and tried to fake blushing. Maybe he would stop asking questions if he thought I was hiding a crush I had. But the next thing would be who the girl is¡­


    A scary moment passed. ¡°What¡¯s her name?¡±


    Rosy was the only person I could think of. I played out what might happen if I said it was her. My heart was in my throat. I thought maybe if I didn¡¯t say anything, he would leave it be.


    ¡°I asked you what her name is.¡±


    I sighed. ¡°Rosy.¡±


    ¡°And did she buy you any books?¡±


    The question wasn¡¯t that unusual, as we couldn¡¯t afford things like that. ¡°No.¡±


    Dad didn¡¯t ask anymore questions, and scary moment after scary moment passed while I stood there, being looked at, waiting for him to continue. For the first couple seconds I looked at him, trying to look at his nose rather than at his eyes. After that I looked at my toes again, and then at the chair. Waiting for him to say I could go.


    When I finally looked back at him, he spoke. ¡°Why didn¡¯t I see you on the road back home?¡±


    The question threw me, because I didn¡¯t know how to respond. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I stopped at Nelg¡¯s. I spoke to your friend Rosy. I should have seen you there or on the road back home. So why didn¡¯t I see you?¡±


    Before I thought of an answer I asked a truly dumb but honest question. ¡°What time did you stop in there?¡±


    Dad seemed to be confused for a second but then his eyes came back to rest on me. ¡°Where else did you go in town?¡± He refused to answer my own question. He was searching. And I was pretty sure what he was looking for.


    ¡°We stopped in at the tannery, before we left.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I shrugged, trying to seem honest. ¡°I¡¯d never been in there before.¡±


    Dad glared at me for a long moment, and I did the same little dance, trying to look away, but also at him. Again, when my eyes returned to him, he spoke. It was always this way with him. To want complete ownership over conversations with me. ¡°Bela!¡±


    I tried my very best to not look worried while waiting for Bela to come in.


    ¡°Did you go to the tannery today?¡±


    ¡°....yeah.¡± Bela said. And with that in a way he had something going for him, as the way he answered seemed like an attempt to leave the conversation. But he did that with everyone, all the time. So it seemed normal.


    ¡°And why did you go to the tannery?¡±


    Bela looked at me before responding. But there was nothing I could tell him, and I don¡¯t know if he¡¯d heard anything said so far. ¡°Cuz Ty wanted to¡­¡±


    I held my breath, because a deep sigh of relief was trying to get out. Instead I looked back to dad, trying to keep fear out of my eyes.


    He watched us both, looking to see if we did anything odd. But thankfully, the worry in our body was normal. This wasn¡¯t the first time he had questioned us like this. And it was a coin flip on whether it would end badly. But in the end, he relaxed back into his chair. I noticed at that time that he had even leaned forward. ¡°Rosy seemed to think you had left straight for home.¡± My heart skipped a beat and was terrified that Bela would give away everything. But luckily, thankfully, dad kept talking. ¡°I guess you didn¡¯t see me come into town.¡± He looked from me to Bela.


    ¡°No.¡± I shook my head. Maybe a little too hard. But he was looking at Bela when I responded. And maybe when he looked back to me he believed me, because he seemed ok with the answer.


    ¡°All right.¡± This was the first time since he had laid eyes on me that he looked to the floor. He seemed to be thinking about something, and I could only guess what it was about. Probably about this woman¡­and I quickly killed the heat rising in my chest from that thought. Instead, I tried to think of a way to end the conversation. But nothing came.


    ¡°That¡¯s it. Ok.¡± He looked back to both of us and waved us off. We left as quickly as we thought was safe.


    At this time in my life, I had never seen a play or heard of acting. But we all have that in us, right? The ability to lie.


    My dad had lied. He had lied to all of us. Bela had probably discovered the truth while making trips into town with dad? But then again...how would he have found out? Dad would''ve been sneaking.


    I would have to be sneaky myself now. Back at home, I was aware of a layer. A fabric in the air I could now see. The lie. When dad would go for supplies, I would need to be false. To not reveal my emotions. I knew the secret. Mom did not. And I would need to lie to them both. And to my little sister.


    I spent a couple sleep-troubled nights trying to sort through my feelings. I was water in a bowl that was about to tip over. Trying to stay in. Reacting violently as I felt things. I was a wreck. I grew moody. The family almost immediately noticed. And when they asked, I didn''t respond. I went into myself, and did not come out.


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    I started going out into the woods, on the edge of our farm. I wanted to be myself. Needing to not be among the lie. So I could breathe. And cry. I cried so much that I started laughing. That surprised me. I found it hilarious. I was so pathetically weak and powerless. With no ability to do anything. Even if I did...oh the evil that would come upon us. My dad would likely kill someone if the truth came out. We were nothing more than animals or pets that lived on his farm. Cattle for the slaughter. Things he tended to, but only to his own end. I was a caged animal. A dumb beast.


    Books lost their flavor. I used to retreat into the worlds that pages offered. But they fell by the wayside. Just ink on page. I wandered through the woods instead, careful not to get lost, always keeping the farm within view. It was my fence. I could only go so far. But I dreamed of just taking off. Maybe living in town. But dad would find me, wouldn¡¯t he. So I sat on the edge of my world, where the forest met the property. In time becoming fascinated with the raw feelings of tree bark against my skin. Sometimes rubbing my arms against an oak until I started to bleed. It was...a powerful feeling. The ability to hurt myself. To see the blood run. It gave me a sick ability to feel in control over myself. And I knew it. I knew what I was giving into. But I did not care. I had no other options.


    The sick light of truth bothered me for weeks after our trip to town. Life became a sad joke. I learned even more how to not feel things. So I could keep breathing and not think about killing myself.


    Lena was barely too young for "school", so mom would let her play outside or do whatever she wanted to amuse herself. This usually meant building dirt houses or looking for trees to climb. And more often than not, she would drag me out to play with her. Bela would be busy most of the time over at Uncle Nelg¡¯s, working for the shop, but it was a special treat for her to get "biggest brother" (as she called Bela) to join her on adventures. As it went. Most days I would be taking care of Lena more than I would be learning. Mom would leave me to learn for myself if I could, if I had the time. Me watching Lena was a bigger priority, it seemed.


    Since mom and Lena were the only two who didn''t know, I started to hate my little sister, just because she did not carry this secret. But I also felt pity. I don''t think she was old enough to even understand if I told her. And I knew I shouldn''t and wouldn¡¯t anyway. It seemed the wrong thing to do. We were supposed to protect her. And even though Bela had not protected me very well from this secret (up til now), I suppose I was supposed to protect him now too. I was the one who needed to fix it all, somehow. Just because I seemed like the only one who could.


    That was a burden I gave myself. I don''t think Bela ever said it out loud. But I read it in how he looked at me at times. He wanted me to fix it, now that I knew. And maybe it¡¯s something I wanted to see. But I guess that doesn''t matter now does it...my actions are in the past. It''s not even left up to me now, if my actions were in the right. I am at the mercy of the ones I have both helped and hurt¡­


    A couple weeks after the fateful day, Lena and I were playing outside. The morning had been spent building houses, and Lena had invented a very fun family of half-zombies and fairies who were planning to save the world from some clay monsters. A recent rain had given her the ability to build from mud some figures that kind of resembled the dirt people who were playing the evil roles. The zombies and fairies were completely pretend though, since neither of us knew how to make them look. Those were just stories. But luckily the breezy afternoon had given the fairies enough magic to blow away the clay people. The aftermath of the battle had caked Lena''s dress with dirt and mud. Mom would be spending a good amount of time trying to clean it, but even after I told Lena this, she didn''t care. Which made me a little upset. But...I let it slide. Lena was smiling. I was trying my best to also enjoy myself, and for a good hour or so, joy and color came back into my world. Until another battle took place on the edge of our playtime.


    "I''m headed into town with Bela." Dad yelled this from the front door as he headed for the wagon. I stopped for a second as I looked his way. Quickly I remembered to pretend that I didn''t care. I was having fun with Lena, right? So I nodded in the more not-caring way I could think of, and went back to playing with her. My heart did a couple beats where I almost started to hurt for Bela. But I had to stop. It would do him no good. So I killed him in my mind and went back to playing with Lena.


    "Ty?"


    "Yeah?"


    "How do you know what zombies are?"


    "Ohh¡­.I read it in a book."


    Lena thought for a minute as the clay people squished to death in her hands. "What book?"


    The total number of books in our house were two. One Yghtl and the other was a teaching book of sorts that mom had tried to get me to read. It involved a lot of rules about how the stars moved, when to grow crops, and a couple of histories about more famous families from a long time ago. Mom fancied the Yghtl a lot more, and so most of the time she didn''t even bother to make sure I read anything. Once I had remembered the right songs about Ygh and knew how to prepare the ceremonies she left me to my own makings. So zombies were something I had only learned from a book Gahn had copied for me. It had been hidden in my room and now I had barely thought of it.


    "It was in a book I saw in town."


    Nela took in what I said. "Do you like reading?"


    I had stopped reading books for a few weeks now, and had only recently started to hurt myself on the trees. So I hadn''t noticed until that moment how much I missed the feel of paper on my fingers. "I do." I looked her in the eyes and spoke true. "I like reading a lot."


    When I started crying, Nela threw her arms around me and cooed. It was a motherly thing to do. Something she would one day be very good at. And it soothed me. She asked what was wrong. But I would not for the life of me tell her. She didn''t need to know. So we sat there for a while and cried. It felt really, really good. I was connecting with someone for the first time after carrying around the darkness. And Bela could not (or would not) cry like this or come to sooth me. He was more distant than I was. Buried under a hill of darkness. Pretty much a walking zombie himself. And so I cried for him too. And after the cry, the anger flooded back. But it was muted this time. I was in control of it now. It had raged in the room, locked in its cage. Nela, in all her amazing love and kindness, had tied it up for me, allowing me to communicate with myself again. And as I sat next to Nela in the dirt, I resolved myself. I would do something to free our family from this monster. To heal everyone. To be the hero. Not just for me. For all of us.


    "What were you crying about?" Nela asked the question again as she wiped away the tears from her own face. I felt slightly guilty as I hadn''t noticed because of how much I had come undone myself.


    "Oh¡­." I sighed, heavily. Shuddering a little as the sadness fell away. The silent bowl of rage refilled itself up again, giving me the strength to speak. "I''ve been going through a lot of things, lately, Nela."


    "Like what?"


    "Things I don''t think you would understand. Or want to know about."


    Nela frowned. "Ok¡­"


    "You''ll understand one day. Or I''ll tell you. But for now enjoy yourself." I laid a hand on her shoulder, thanking whatever powers that be for dad''s lack of interest in abusing her. It seemed he had at least the one good thing in him. "Be happy." I smiled weakly, and she stared back at me with confusion on her face, though after a second or two of silence she nodded and dropped the subject.


    When Bela came back that night, I asked him how the trip into town had been. This was a bit of a rough way to say hello, as I had avoided him by accident for the last couple weeks. When I realized this, I apologized. He told me it was ok. I knew it wasn''t. I hugged him anyway. But after that, I filled him in on my plans.


    "Would you like to go into town with me tomorrow? I''m getting another book."


    Bela looked concerned for me. "Is it only for books?" I guess he was asking the question because he didn''t want me going near dad. I was ready for that though.


    "Yes, Bela. And dad isn''t going into town, is he?" I figured he wouldn''t as resupplies were only once a week, if that. It also depended on how much business he did. There was rarely a time where he went into town two days in a row though.


    "I guess not."


    That settled it. The next day we headed into I''lochin, and as always, we brought our change of clothes. It was kind of an unspoken rule that I had noticed: people always sell and buy things in their nice clothes. And I also figured our farm clothes were not very nice to look at. They were mended a lot by mom, so they were better for serving their purpose. Not for looking nice.


    In town, we headed to the roof and grabbed my book from Gahn. He may have been a bit surprised at my absence, but he said nothing. It seemed to be a not-spoken thing between us. Almost like a customer and a businessman doing business. The less said the better. We were not friends. Didn''t need to be. Before finishing up with him, I asked if he had any spare paper and quill. He did, if I had an extra vial. And after we were done, and I had both a new book and fresh writing material, I gave Bela the real reason I was coming into town.


    "I want to see the woman." The heavy weight of my words matched with the thunk sound of wooden steps leading off of the roof. "The woman that dad is seeing."


    Bela froze on the stairs, and I waited for him to continue following me. But he didn''t. He just stood there, not saying anything. Not really glaring at me but also not looking away. He just looked at me. Fear was on his face. I could not blame him much. But I also knew this would probably be how he would act. "I can go with or without you, Bela."


    He looked at the steps, avoiding my eyes now. "I...don''t think it''s a good idea, Ty."


    "I know¡­" I said this as calmly as I could, but not without a little force. I had made up my mind, and I wanted to give him that chance to join me or not. "But I am going, Bela." I repeated myself and his name for the last time. Walking down the stairs, I made it almost to the street before I heard Bela behind me. He had decided to follow me after all.


    "Ty¡­" His hand was on my arm, in the same manner he had done when we were last in town. "I need to tell you something."


    I waited, holding my breath. There seemed to be something else I didn''t know. Everything slowed down at his next words:


    "She''s my mom."


    This time I didn''t react quickly. I looked at him, not understanding. I knew the words, but I found myself not knowing what they meant. "She''s your mom¡­?" The words hung there. "She''s your mom¡­" I looked around, we were in an alley, no one else was around. "How?" Bela shrugged his shoulders. I felt heat on my cheeks. "How?!" I push his hand away from me.


    "Dad and her had me."


    "That I know. But how? When?"


    "Before mom and dad got married. She showed up after and told dad. He got really mad. But now¡­" He trailed off, as if this explained everything.


    "Now what?"


    "Dad brings me into town to see her." Bela said it like it was a sin. And it probably was of some sort.


    The situation was starting to sink in a little, and I was beginning to figure things out. "So she''s your mom. And that''s how you know where she lives¡­" I did more thinking, quickly. "You''ve spoken to her quite a bit?"


    "Yeah¡­"


    "I want to meet her."


    Bela reacted. "No! Dad must never find out."


    I stood there for a bit. Going through options. Again, I could wait and meditate on things. That was probably the best. And it was probably best to pretend in front of Bela. To convince him that I wouldn''t do anything. Then I could bring it up again after I''d had time to think. But that meant going back home. Waiting. I was so tired of being in this family. In these lies. I was fighting the urge to just bring everything to light. But I wanted to be in control of how things would end up. To make sure dad couldn''t hurt anyone else, after I had planned all of my actions. I would keep him trapped once I threw the punch. And keep going until he went down. That was the smart thing to do.


    "*sigh*...All right, Bela. We can head back home."


    We passed through the town circle, and this time we didn''t run into dad, as I had predicted. When I saw the tannery, I thought back to the time when we watched dad exit Uncle Nelg''s shop. That reminded me of Rosy. And then I remembered the favor she had done for us. I owed her at least a thanks.


    "Bela, do you mind if we stop at Uncle Nelg''s shop?"


    My brother exhaled loudly, as if a large box had been taken from him, and he could now breathe since he wasn¡¯t burdened by it. He smiled slightly and his eyes lit up. I laughed quietly, but it was a bit hollow. It would be good for him to see Rosy and my mind needed to escape for a little from the blow of Bela''s news about his true mom. Rosy and Bela''s little dance of sorts would help. And it would give us something else to talk about on the way home other than the ugly truth of our family.


    "Hey, Rosy."


    She threw us a quick glance and reply - "Hi, Ty. Hi, Bela." - before returning to the person on the other side of the counter.


    I walked through the store for a little bit, checking things out, waiting for her to finish up with the customer. It would be best to thank her when no one else was around. My fingers lightly brushed against the wooden shelves as I walked to the back. The further I went, the less light made it into the shop. By the time I got to the back, it was a little bit cooler. Hadn''t noticed how warm it had been outside today, and it suddenly felt like a great idea to take a nap on the front porch of the store after finishing up here. Picking up one of the stone statues that Bela had made, I felt my hand cooled by the carved rock. It had taken in, it seemed, all of the darkness of the back of the shop. I wondered how much I had done that, now that my family had been put into darkness. Or rather, I mean, I was realizing how much in the dark we had been for a while now¡­all of us, in many ways.


    My thoughts took me over until I heard the closing of the front door. Rosy, Bela, and I were alone in the shop. The other shopkeeper was out, and Rosy was covering, it seemed. A small mercy of a miracle. I wondered if I should make sure of that fact by asking her. No, it wouldn''t take that long to do what I came here to do. And the coolness of the shop left me. I had grown warm as I readied myself, the tightness in my stomach making me act like a cornered animal.


    "Nice of you guys to stop by." Rosy pulled her long flowy hair over her shoulders as she said this. I made note that she hadn''t called us boys, as she had last time. In fact, she was standing different now, wasn''t she? I saw her shoulders more behind her back and she seemed to be standing straighter. Her hands were now on her hips. Was she slightly out of breath? There was a lot that seemed to be different now, and I didn''t know the cause for it.


    "Thanks¡­" I said awkwardly. I had been lost in my own mind for a few seconds and the response didn''t make sense.


    Rosy wrinkled her brow at me slightly but then looked to Bela. "How have you been Bela?"


    Bela was a wreck. That much could be seen to anyone, and I''m sure Rosy had noticed. "We''ve been helping dad with errands today." I gave this reason so as to lie for Bela. I doubted he could''ve thought of something better.


    "Ahh. Your dad¡­" Rosy turned to look at me again, and now the moment had seemed to just naturally come. I could bring up the reason I was here.


    "Yeah. And I wanted to thank you. For what you did¡­" I waited to see if she would know what I was talking about. But a second or two passed and so I continued. "For lying to my dad."


    "Oh." Apparently she hadn¡¯t been so knowing, and slightly blushed. "Don''t think anything of it, Ty." She pursed her lips. "I wanted to help¡­"


    ¡°Lie?¡± Bela asked suddenly.


    I looked at my older brother and frowned. He didn¡¯t know. He wasn¡¯t smart enough, like Rosy and me. And there was sadness in my voice, but I looked to Rosy as I explained. ¡°She told dad that we had gone straight home. Instead of telling him where we¡¯d really been.¡±


    Understanding came to Bela. ¡°Oh. At Gahn¡¯s.¡±


    I nodded my head silently when I looked back to him.


    Unsteady quiet waited, and I figured Bela wouldn''t do much talking. This had been all there really was to say and we didn''t have any more reason to stay here. I looked for something else to talk about, or some other way to end the awkwardness. "How''s business?"


    "Business is good¡­" She faltered for a second until her own quickness kicked the conversation forward. "Your little figurines have kept selling well, Bela. I mean-they''ve continued to sell well. And...don''t tell anyone but I might be recommending more of your carvings to people than I have been of anything else."


    Bela stirred slightly when his name was mentioned and when she locked eyes with him, he stood very still for a second before moving his eyes back down again. It was painful to watch, the way he was torturing himself. And if Rosy had any compassion, she''d stop it somehow. But I had to take those words back. I think Bela was just what he was. And only life experience or a miracle could make him anything else. He wasn''t as broken as people thought he was. I just think he was incredibly, incredibly different.


    Nothing had been said between the three of us for a bit, and it was time to head home. The front door opened as a new customer walked in, so our leave was now a naturally timed one. "Well¡­I supposed we''re headed home. See ya, Rosy."


    "Bye."


    I couldn''t tell if there was something catching in her voice or not, but the word stuck with me for a mile or two.


    A weird sadness followed me on the way out of town. What had I expected to really happen with Rosy? Did I like her? No...it seemed I didn''t. after all. She was born of better stuff and handed better things. And I hated her for what she had been given just because she was born. But in the now, I guess I just wanted to do the right thing and thank her. Bela obviously was taken with her, and so that was another reason to go...but for me I had done everything I wanted to do. I guessed I should act as if I didn''t like her and just continue on with my life. With that, I stopped thinking about her, giving her about as much of my attention as I would any shopkeeper.


    "Bela, do you like Rosy?"


    "What?"


    "Do you like Rosy?" It was something to talk about on the way home, and I had no way to bring up the thing with Bela''s real mom. This would at least break any uncomfortable silence between us.


    "Yeah¡­" He shrugged.


    He answered quicker than I would''ve expected as he seemed to not be hiding the fact. That was a little bit surprising. "What do you like about her?"


    He frowned only slightly and answered a moment later. "She''s pretty."


    "Is that all?"


    "No¡­" He looked away. "I mean...should there be other stuff?"


    "I guess not." But in my mind I judged him a little, but not in a mean way. Rosy lived in a wealthy part of town. I thought about her mostly because she was better schooled and knew more words. But I guess that''s just what I found "pretty".

 Chapter 3

    Chapter 3


    The next several weeks were different from the last. Color had not fully returned to my world, but I was at least seeing in shades of grey instead of black. Light was starting to appear for me, as I was beginning to gather the rough shape of a plan. Like the clay people that Lena had created, I was taking the drops of water around me to break apart the rough patch of dirt that my family lived in. With enough work and crawling through the grime, I would maybe help get us unburied.


    While I waited for an idea to come to me, I returned to reading. It wasn''t exactly the same as it used to be, because I read the words with a new form of¡­.how to describe it. I was looking at the people in the books with a certain meanness. I expected the worst now, whereas I used to read with a sense of wonder. When bad things would happen in the stories, I was less surprised. I expected it now. And so there was a slight death that happened in me. But really, I guess I didn''t miss that child-like feeling. It was easy to forget how bright everything used to be. As a side effect to my return to words, I grew in my ability to communicate. As I found letters and phrases that were unknown to me, I would copy them, and think over them. Finding them again in other books would give me context as to their meaning. Context was a good word. When I found it, I thought on the word for days. I used it as much as I could. I would "find context" for using the word. It was a hilarious two days where I drove my family insane with my new found knowledge. My world grew in complexity with each word I learned. It gave my inner voice the means to understand and express itself.


    At the same time as my reading, I also picked up writing. Stories about what I was reading, filled in with my own thoughts. I would change details, filling them in with my own ideas. A song about a farmer gave me the idea to write about our own family. But what to put in there. I thought about writing about the terrible things. But that seemed dangerous. What if someone saw? What if dad saw? But still, I felt the need to write. I changed his name and the rest of my family. But I didn¡¯t change my own name. I imagined I was in a make believe family of good people. Who fought the evil of the world around them. They were kind to nice people but fair yet strong against evil ones.


    After a couple weeks, I returned back to a closer shade of colors. The greys in my life became shades of greyish-green, greyish-blue. I still didn''t return to what I was. But I did stop bleeding. Literally. The time in the woods became more rare. I relearned how to find comfort in the warm glow of a day and the feeling of paper in my hands. And in rain I could feel the weight of my feelings and the longing for the trees to bleed from. But the hunger for that release was far away. As far away as the gloom created on the other side of my vision through the dripping windows on those watery days. Life almost had a feeling of normalcy again. Sometimes it wouldn''t be so great, but the idea of "one day" meeting Bela''s mom was another refuge for me. I could draw on that as a plan in the back of my mind. It was an evil scheme that gave me warmth for tough days. Days when dad would come home livid.


    Books took on a second meaning to me now. As I read, I looked for means to grow in power. To become powerful enough to fix my family. I reread the second book that our family had, learning about the tragic endings of family feuds and what to avoid. It also caused me to start looking at people in a new way. I wanted to know what they were thinking...how to use their thoughts against them. I started to watch dad and how he talked. When he would leave for town, I would try to guess at when he would be visiting the woman. Could I realize when he was lying, just by the way he acted? This gave me an idea that I would later act on when next in town. But for now, I studied, watched, and thought.


    All of this made my life almost like a story, in a way, and I was viewing it not as an actor on the stage, but as someone watching, and at times directing. And I removed myself in a more healthy way I think. Maybe not totally the right thing to do, but I wasn¡¯t in a survival instinct anymore. I was practicing the dance of a predator now. I was feeling less out of control over life. Even though the emotion of power slowly creeping through me was poisonous, I still drank it into my veins. The dance was keeping me alive, even though I knew it was a dangerous dance, designed to cripple me if I should falter. Yet still I danced higher up the steps.


    A new outlet opened itself to me, as I took to protecting our garden with new vigor. Dad had been teaching us for a while (Bela and I) on how to set traps for the animals that would eat our fruits and vegetables, but now I requested several books from Gahn (in secret of course) that explained exactly how to build the best ones. I quickly found through my reading that some of dad''s ideas and tricks had been passed down it seemed, as a lot of them relied on conventional wisdom and general common sense about how animals worked or thought (or didn¡¯t think). Some of my improvements to the traps and changing the placement did more harm. Within a few days I was checking the traps each morning and night. More often than not, I would need to make use of the knife that dad let us use for such occasions. And the garden started to flourish more, without the feeding of the varmint my dad would call ¡°leeches of hard work¡±. Working with my own hands had two purposes of keeping my mind distracted: one, I was killing things. It felt good, devilishly good, to be taking life rather than slowly bleeding from my own. Second, trappening just kept me busy. Gave me a sense of purpose. If nothing else, I was providing for my family in an entirely different way.


    Dad seemed to also lay off of me in exchange for my improvement in trapping, which brought almost a semblance of joy to my life. That illusion became shattered though, when I found out one night that Bela was taking more of the brunt. I heard him crying loudly outside once as dad took a switch to him, yelling, ¡°Why can¡¯t you be worth more, like your younger brother?¡±


    The blood boiled hot that day, and I took to the garden, away from the house, once I knew dad was inside. The slight swaying of wind hit me as I meditated on my thoughts and feelings, shaping them according to my will. Eventually, I set a plan in motion after a few hours of planning.


    "Mom?"


    "Yes?" The shucking of corn filled the background and Nela helped prepare for lunch. The house was otherwise completely silent. Bela was who knows where, and dad was in the living room, smoking a pipe. The unspoken violence of a couple hours ago was beginning to ¡°go away¡±. We just didn¡¯t talk about it. And that¡¯s how it stayed ever present but also unresolved.


    "I''ve been reading the Yghtl¡­" A brief pause to see if she would react in surprise. Originally I had fought tooth and nail to learn the words. The religion went against a lot of what I thought just made sense about the world. There was so much superstition in it. So to be reading it willingly...but she didn''t say anything. "And I have some questions about the beliefs. I was wondering if you could help?"


    "Oh.¡± She stopped the work for a second. ¡°Well, I don''t know if I can answer anything. That might be better for you to ask Dran. He knows more than I do."


    "I was only just wondering when the next festival will take place."


    "Oh that''s easy. The harvest festival is next week. I thought I told you that a few days ago."


    She had. I remembered. "Yeah, I mean I have a question about it. We''re supposed to bring grains and fruits to it for sacrifice but I''m curious about why we''re supposed to do that."


    "Oh. Well that I don''t know. You should probably ask him."


    "All right...but do you mind if I tell dad that you want to know? Cause he might let me go into town with him to find out."


    "Sure. But also could you please take Nela with you? She''s fighting me on learning the Yghtl."


    There was no other answer that I could give than to agree. Hopefully it wouldn''t mess up my plans too much.


    ¡°Dad?¡± I approached him a few minutes after talking to mom, and after I had made sure he¡¯d settled into his favorite chair.


    Silence again. Typical.


    ¡°Dad? Do you mind if I go into town next time you go out?¡±


    "For what reason?"


    "I''d like to head to the seer, for mom. She was curious about the next festival. And she also asked that I take Nela to him."


    "Well, I guess. But also I wanted you to go into town with me anyway. So you can ask after we pick up supplies."


    Guess that was easier than I thought.


    When we entered I''lochin and finished buying some common recurring goods, dad gave me permission to go talk to Dran. He was always very vocal about how much he despised Ygh and the religion revolving around it, and it didn''t need to be said that Nela and I would be going alone. I had figured as much. It was a pretty safe bet that I wouldn''t be watched too closely or even followed by him. I walked over to Dran''s house, off a side street not too far from the town circle. I''d been there a lot of times with mom, in earlier years.


    The house was decked out with streamers in shades of dark blue and forest green. There was mold on the house, even though a lot of the houses around didn''t show signs of age. It was either done so on purpose, or if someone really believed in Ygh, they would say the forest (the world, really) followed the devout. Moss was one of many ways to prove that someone was blessed and had shown themselves worthy by their deeds and dedication. I personally think he coated his walls with something that attracted the growth. Mom had quietly chided me several times when I first came here, because I was smelling the walls for anything suspicious. They definitely didn''t smell like normal trees or anything. How did they get the moss to grow just on the front of the house?


    Adding to the whole mystique of Dran''s house was a single strand of teeth on a string by the front door. It was to the left of the door frame, walking in, and all of the teeth had been painted red. "A reminder of death" Dran would tell everyone, in a somber voice. He wasn''t very old, but the way he spoke it was like he was hundreds if not thousands. His speech wasn''t slow, it was just so very serious. As if he''d seen everything and come away very, very depressed. Personally I would be too if I''d removed all my head hair by age 15. But according to mom, Dran had started his beard just a couple weeks after he fully shaved the scalp. It was the way with the seer''s. It was as if it was an exchange of sorts. But no one knew why it happened. And as he would stand at the door, holding the teeth from many different animals and deceased humans, he spoke as if to a mountain way way far off. But he wouldn''t raise his voice. He would get really quiet in fact, and the teeth would be brought unbearably close to his thoroughly combed beard, but they wouldn¡¯t quite meet. The first time I saw him speak that way I was so mesmerized that I actually grabbed Bela and Nela and told them the seer had special news. When I told him that I''d forgotten what he said about the teeth, he did the same thing, as if it was a rehearsed part of a play. Bela and Nela talked about him for several days after that, and I realized that I might have inadvertently just done some recruiting for their religion. So I felt slightly guilty and stopped talking about Dran to others or even visiting him. The few times we spoke after that, I usually argued with him about my ¡°disapproving notions¡± of his faith (as he would call them). The conversations would devolve into arguments or pointless debates and so we actually just avoided each other. I was a lost cause in his book. And he was a hopeless fanatic in mine.


    "Are we going inside?" Nela looked rather displeased with being dragged along for this trip, but I had totally forgotten to ask why. Probably for the better. It was the first time I''d had time alone with her since we''d started traveling the road with dad. He barely tolerated the religious talk as it was, and I didn''t want to stir up his anger for any reason.


    "Nela. Why did mom want you to come along?"


    She shuffled in place nervously. "I''ve been reading some of the Yghtl¡­"


    "...Yeah? And?"


    "Well¡­I know you don¡¯t like what it says, so I''m not sure I should say."


    "About what?"


    "Stuff¡­"


    "Nela. Tell me."


    "Promise not to get mad?"


    "Promise."


    "Well, you''ve been killing the animals that eat our food. But, the book says that all life is supposed to be kept alive."


    "Yeah¡­" I knew where this was going already. I''d had the same discussion in my own mind, but had figured out how to resolve it without asking anyone. I disagreed with the book, but I was pretending to be a good acolyte so as to not make mom or dad question me. Now Nela was doing what I wished I had the freedom to do. Ask the questions out loud to someone safe enough to listen.


    "Why do we kill animals just because we want to stay alive?"


    I sighed slightly. " I get why that doesn''t make sense. But it''s because we need to stay alive. And it means disobeying the Yghtl."


    "But...the book is supposed to be about what''s right and wrong."


    "I know. And the thing is, Nela, dad doesn''t care about the book as much as mom does. It''s why she wants us to read it. To understand how things work." I twinged a little as I told this lie. "Or I mean, how she thinks the world works¡­"


    "What do you mean?"


    "I mean that mom believes in Ygh. Dad doesn''t."


    "But why?"


    I stopped to think about that. I didn''t really know, and I told Nela as much. She wasn''t too happy with the answer, but I was frowning too, so we were both miffed at the problem together.


    "Ya know Nela, I see why you''re so worried. The book says one thing, and mom believes it. And dad says something else that the book doesn''t say. And I do what he says. Not what mom says."


    "Yeah." She stuck out her bottom lip in deep thought and stern determination to figure it all out.


    I thought about the reality of dad¡¯s power over our entire family. The way he took power and abused any of us for whatever reason. But I wouldn¡¯t tell Nela that¡¯s the reason I followed dad¡¯s hatred of religion. I couldn¡¯t care less what he thought. And Nela wasn¡¯t old enough to understand all of this. So I kept it simple. "So here''s the thing. I don''t think you ever remember meeting Dran. And can I tell you a secret?"


    Her eyes went wide and the lips parted slightly, the pouting disappearing in an instant.


    "I''ve met Dran. A bunch of times." I whispered a little, but not too much. Just enough to convey my words as a secret. "I don''t like him too much. And I don''t think you will either. So will you trust me? I think we should just skip talking to him. Is that ok?"


    Rosy processed this information with all the weight on her shoulders. But after a full three seconds she agreed. "Ok, big brother."


    I felt like I was betraying her a little, because she was so heavily putting her trust in me, thinking that I could just have her best interest at heart. Which I did...but it required doing some amount of lying or misdirection. I didn''t feel the greatest about it, but definitely felt it was required.


    After our little conversation, I actually almost knocked on the door to Dren''s house, but caught myself in time. I''d been so lost in thought that I almost forgot why I was really here. A quick check down the alley and into the town square showed that dad was unlocking his store front. It would be a half hour or so before he had all the materials setup and I knew he was somewhat hesitant to come looking for me while I was "with Dran". When he entered the building, I popped out of the alley and headed to Uncle Nelg''s shop.


    "Where we going, Ty?"


    "I just wanted to say hi to Rosy. Do you mind waiting out here for one minute?"


    "Why I gotta wait out here?! I wanna meet Rosy!"


    I had kept her current on everything going on in I''lochin during each of my visits, including how things were going at Uncle Nelg¡¯s. And Up until a few weeks ago, there was nothing I had kept from Nela.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "I promise you''ll get to meet her soon. Just wait here."


    Rosy was behind the counter, and there were several customers browsing. That didn''t matter. I wouldn''t be in here long. "Rosy." She looked up from the counter, out from behind a book, going wide eyed for a mere second.


    "Ty!" She smiled. "Good to see you!"


    "Can''t stay long. Can you agree to watch Nela next time we come into town, for the next Yghtl?"


    "Umm...yeah I guess. She can stay here in the shop. But¡­"


    "Thanks. Don''t worry. I''ll owe you." I left the shop.


    Now that I had done the most important part, it was time to meet back up with dad.


    ¡°Ready to go, Nela?¡±


    ¡°What did you talk about? She stomped a little and pouted. ¡°That was so quick!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you later. Just trust me.¡±


    Entering dad¡¯s shop across the town circle, we were greeted by the familiar mixture of smells both earthy and strange. Bottles lined the wall shelves with long words written in quill under them, the pieces of paper only held there by the weight of the bottles that sat on them. For smaller bottles, stones were also used to keep the half-folded sheets in place. Dad would handle the papers almost with the same delicacy in which he brewed and carried the tinctures. Mixing up the papers meant selling the wrong thing. That could be very bad.


    Looking back over my short life, the word ¡°tincture¡± was funny. It was odd to know such a very specific word but not know so many others. I had been brought up and trained by my father to know certain things, but not know others. Because they didn¡¯t matter. Or because he didn¡¯t know them himself. Or he didn¡¯t want me to know. I guess it didn¡¯t matter. I could not ask him why that was. It wasn¡¯t that kind of relationship. It was barely a relationship, at all. I wasn¡¯t expected to ask too many questions. In fact, it would do more harm than good.


    Dad had asked me to come into town with him, like he had done so many times before, but this time because he was expecting a bit more volume today. Most of the time, he was right. There would be bigger orders he was expecting to roll through, like certain people who would need such and such amount of sogroot. Or someone else would need a very special amount of Kos, weighed out in advance. Today was no exception, although a very silent scare broke the monotony of the day, when Gahn walked into the shop.


    We locked eyes for a second as he walked up to the counter. I''d had a couple seconds of warning before then, because I saw him as the door opened. I was lucky. When we locked eyes I saw the very quick surprise flash on his eyes. A split second later I moved away, looking over a random ledger detailing inventory for the shop. Looking back a second later, he was already moving towards us, only looking at my dad. There didn''t seem to be anything left on his face besides a determination to conduct business. The short walk he had from the front door to the counter didn''t betray anything. For the life of me, I wanted (and earnestly believed) that he would pretend we''d never met before. Dad would flip if he knew I''d been getting copies of books. Mostly for the simple fact that I didn''t tell him. His rage was simple like that. It was easy to predict what his reaction would be to most things: anger.


    Gahn was here to pick up several things, but I did my best to avoid the conversation. There was another customer in the shop and even though I was standing right next to dad, I put all of my attention on watching the elderly gentleman across the floor. He was currently looking at a small amount of purple liquid in a medium-large sized vial. The liquid sloshed as he picked it up, and the viscosity (another dad-taught word) caused it to move even faster than water. Where the liquid would hit the sides of the glass tube, it would run immediately back to the base, quick as lightning.


    I''d learned about that particular liquid early on in my apprenticeship. Trxa. Highly toxic and used mostly for getting rid of stains in wood or marble. Diluted with a massive amount of water of course. And then after you had to slap some thick mud onto the spot to neutralize any residual Trxa particles. When it wasn¡¯t diluted, it would peel the skin off your bones. Diluted in water, it would leave burns where it touched you. Nasty stuff. Dad had mentioned he once saw a horse sniff at it, before a farmer could apply the mud to set. The horse stomped around like mad and kicked the farmer several times. He died. The horse was put down.


    The vial that this older gentleman was holding had a lock near the top. Dad had the key. The glass was tempered several times and specially made from a far off land that dad ordered it from. The vial could survive anything but a direct blow from a hammer. If the customer wasn¡¯t a complete fool, he would notice the label on the vial and be very careful with it. Which he was. I watched him hold it tightly, the lines on his knuckles starting to crease as he gripped the thing. Though he had to be much older than dad, he wasn¡¯t squinting at the label. He must¡¯ve known what it was. So he would be a very well-to-do client if he ended up buying it. Trxa was not cheap. Part of our poverty came from the fight to make very dangerous, very expensive things. Our take on things we sold wasn¡¯t good either. Dad owed a lot of people money for the things we were selling here. ¡°One day¡± he said. One day we¡¯ll be rich.


    Dad was looking in the direction of the elderly gentleman several times, though his conversation never veered from dealing with Gahn. Dad was practical like that. About business. He had a family to feed and the way he made his living was by selling. He would likely talk to the old man after getting Gahn squared away, but he also didn¡¯t want an idiot releasing Trxa inside his shop. It would likely kill whoever made the mistake. His eyes moved from Gahn and to the other customer every couple seconds and I could almost feel the tension in the air around him.


    After a couple seconds, I¡¯d missed pretty much everything Gahn and dad had been talking about. That was good. Being lost in my own world would keep dad thinking I knew who Gahn was. When the time came for bagging up what ingredients were sold, I would likely take them out to a wagon or (if someone lived in town) I would carry them to the home. Especially for older folks. That would be the time when I could talk to Gahn. And now, in the moment, I knew what I needed to do. I took one of the two bags of materials into my arms without asking and then told Gahn, ¡°I¡¯ll help you take this one outside.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t been by recently.¡±


    "I''ve been busy, Gahn."


    "Didn¡¯t know you¡¯d be in today." He shot a wary eye back to the front door of the shop.


    "Neither did I." The jars were loaded into the cart as we spoke. "But I need something from you."


    "More books?"


    "Yeah. But I need to talk. Can you meet during the festival?"


    Gahn shot me one of the wary looks.


    "I''m not asking you to go to it. I''m asking to meet you in the usual spot during it."


    He wasted half a second. "K".


    Dad was at the door a moment later, asking me to help the other gentleman with an order.


    The rest of the day passed normally. It occured to me that Dad hadn''t bothered to ask me about what I''d gone to Dran for.


    Next week, at the festival, I met Gahn at the usual place, over the roof of his place in downtown. The festival had taken place early in the evening and I waited til dusk before stealing away. My excuse to mom was that after I''d spoken with Dran, I thought there were some flowers on the outside of the I''lochin that might make a good offering. She agreed. Dad wasn''t here to stop or question me, obviously. Mom trusted me a whole lot more than he did.


    "How much do you know about the books you write?"


    "Not a lot. Why?"


    He''d joined me on top of the building, and we could see in the distance that the festival was in full swing. Drums were beating and the glow of several large bonfires were going. The festival pulled all of I''lochin out for the day, and many people from an hour or two of travel in each direction came in for the event. My dad was one of the few who wouldn''t attend. It wasn''t unheard of, just uncommon. Most people attended even if they didn''t believe in the ways of Ygh. The free-flowing alcohol and quality grains offered to the participants were enticing to most. I¡¯d learned early on in my relationship with Gahn that he would also not attend, for reasons unknown. And I also learned not to try and pry into the story behind the choice.


    "Just curious if you''d read the Yghtl."


    A little paper with some unknown weed was dangling in Gahn''s left hand. In answer to my question, he looked past me, down the street to the crowd of people in full-swing revelry. Continuing to stare at them, he brought the roll to his lips and pulled a nice long puff. Only when the smoke cleared did he give a retort. "No." He said this while jabbing a finger at the people, non-verbally singling them out.


    "Oh¡­" I fell silent, not sure what to do or how to proceed. But he unwittingly saved me, probably out of his own curiosity.


    "Why do you ask?"


    A slight ponder on my part. I''d negotiated with myself all ready on how much I should tell him. "I''ve been reading about the ''rules'' under Ygh. But...a lot of things, like stealing or talking bad about Ygh, I haven''t seen anyone in I''lochin punished for those things."


    "''Course not." I would''ve been offended by his dismissiveness, but I''d gotten a read on him by now. Just needed to wait for him to continue. It was his way. "You''re not gonna see any of that unless you''re in V''alen. Out here you don''t get The King''s Domain unless it''s needed. Like murder or somethin''."


    "Wait, what? The King''s Domain?"


    "Yeah. The law."


    "Law?" I stared blankly at him.


    "Yeah. The law. Ya know?" It was now his turn to stare blankly back at me.


    "I know what the law is." Part lie. I''d read it in books and heard about it used in V''alen, though I knew little of it. "But...I don''t know a lot about it." Better to be truthful with someone I was asking a favor of.


    A small flaring at the nostrils while Gahn released a short sigh. "Man I forget how country you are." Again, not an insult on his part. "Ok. The law is something imposed by the king. You know about him?"


    "Yeah I know of him."


    "Well he''s the guy writing and imposing rules. Like what you hear about in the Ygthl. That stuff, the stealing, the thievery, the lying about how much something costs, hell even horse thievin''. Those are punished."


    "And are all of the rules in the Yghtl enforced in V''alen?"


    "Like what?"


    I had to be careful. "Umm...like I don''t know. Anything." I scrambled for all of the ones but the ones I didn''t know about. Came up empty. "I don''t know. Just curious."


    "Well, if you wanna know if it''s covered, it¡¯s in The King''s Domain."


    ¡°Where do I find it?¡±


    After a slow drag and a look up at the stars, he answered. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve got it right now.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a book?¡±


    Without breaking eye contact with the heavens, Gahn nodded.


    "Can you get it for me?"


    For the first time I''d met him, Gahn frowned, if only slightly. I guess it shouldn''t have been surprising to me, since I didn''t know him that well. But I realize that I''d regarded him as a tool to my own means, and not as a person.


    He continued. "...I''ll need to find a way." I surmised he meant that it''d have to be done without drawing attention from the shop owner. It then occurred to me that I also didn''t know the bookstore owner''s name. A brief guilt came over me, but I shoved it to the side. Needed to focus on this now.


    "Would you be willing?"


    Walking back to the festival, a slight weight was lifted. Gahn had agreed, and in some indeterminate amount of time I would have a book. A book that would maybe give me the answers I was seeking. Now for the next piece of the puzzle.


    Against the fire light I could make out the shape of Dran as he yelled out words to people nearby. He was standing above everyone, using what looked definitely like people as a makeshift platform. His words barely caught to the edge of my hearing, as I searched through the crowd:


    ¡°We are stained! We are marred! Oh my Ygh, how do you break us apart in dirt and grass to find the stone! Stone to build! To keep us captured! To keep us from life! You take the word of King M''ark as pure water, forgetting the clear air I push you along with! We cannot feel you inside those dead walls! Do you see us hide behind cold logic! NO! Hot energy burns us to new strength! You die when trapped! Escape your prison and join the Ygh once more! The Ygh cries out for salvation! Burn the offerings of quiet death!¡±


    While Dran spoke, people threw small pieces of lumber and mortar into the fire. Chunks of their houses or buildings that could be broken off, without destroying or making them unsafe. The very places they worked and lived from. I shook my head slightly as I considered the weird and stupidity of it all.


    Before long, Nela was spotted, off in a small group of her friends. One of the parents of those children was standing nearby, keeping an eye on them. When I walked up to Nela, the adult recognized me and continued chatting away with one of the other adults, likely another one of the parents. I had seen mom over near the edges of the inner circle of the largest fire. Although not engaged, she was definitely on the outside, watching everything with a keen interest.


    ¡°Nela,¡± I tapped on her shoulder to get her attention. The drums had increased into a tempo that was just ripe for dancing. Nela and a couple of her friends were jumping around and enjoying the music. When I spoke her name she stopped to spin around and look at me. A smile had broken on her face. People were always her thing, and she practically floated off the ground for days after being in big groups like this. To be honest, I never got the point of large gatherings. Not that they scared me. They were just so pointless it seemed. ¡°I need to talk to you. Alone.¡± I tried to convey concern but also calm. Having done that, I thought she was able to understand me, since her expression faded from joy but there was only calm seriousness remaining, not panic.


    Holding my little sister by the hand, I walked with her to the edge of the entire festival, near the beginning of I''lochin¡¯s houses. Gahn¡¯s house was here, and as Nela stood in front of me, her back was now turned to that building which I¡¯d just come from.


    ¡°Why are you holding flowers?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re for the festival. But that¡¯s not why I need to talk to you. I have a favor to ask you.¡±


    It was only a matter of moments before she agreed to it, not even knowing what it was. ¡°Anything for you, Ty.¡±


    A brief pause from me, and a pang of guilt. This would be a betrayal. But a necessary one.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to. . .do you remember when we ¡®pretended¡¯ to visit Dran the other day?¡±


    ¡°Mhmmm.¡± The serious eyes she had given moments before in the festival were now reaching her eyebrows, as they furrowed maddenly. My little sister¡¯s head also bowed slightly, a slight sign I¡¯d seen her give when we were playing pretend as spys, passing secret messages back and forth on our plots to save I''lochin from invisible foes.


    ¡°I need to ¡®pretend¡¯ to see Dran much more often. Can you help me do that?¡±


    ¡°I mean...sure. But why?¡± At the end of her question, and as her eyebrows furrowed, a light hit her eyes, likely agitated by the flames just out of sight by the crowds. ¡°Ohhh...you want to see Rosy again, don¡¯t you?¡± A wicked grin went on her face.


    I honestly blushed, even though I knew she was going to be asking. I¡¯d been dodging it all this week, the conversation Nela had been trying to start all of this past week. Anytime we would play alone, she would whisper the question to me, much like the same she was doing now. Throughout the week I¡¯d been telling her, ¡°Soon. You¡¯ll find out. And it will make sense.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, Nela. I like Rosy. But there¡¯s something you don¡¯t know.¡±


    The reaction on her face could¡¯ve started a match if you held it on her cheek. Quickly, as if she was playing a part in a play, she went from intrigue to surprise. The eyebrows gave up and took towards the top of her forehead as her mouth also split a crack from her tongue making a dash for her lower lip. And all of it in less than a second. ¡°A secret?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. And you have to promise not to tell anyone. Not Bela. Not mom. Not dad. Not Dran. No one. You understand?¡±


    Vigorous head nodding.


    ¡°Good.¡± I exhaled slowly before continuing. ¡°Bela also likes Rosy.¡±


    Nela, for her part, did her best to take the information in stride. It still hit her like a building collapsing, though she didn¡¯t fall from the weight. More like finding yourself on hot coals, come to think of it, as she started fidgeting nervously and eventually pacing in place a little bit, wringing her hands nervously.


    ¡°What are you going to do, Ty?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to talk to Rosy. She needs to decide. But...it will take time. I need to be delicate here. I don¡¯t want to hurt Bela.¡±


    There was a deep and unspoken pause here, as we both thought about our brother. I, for my part, deeply pitied him. What Nela thought (or could comprehend) was another matter, and I was curious how she would respond. I was fairly confident that she would want the best for him. But how much Nela knew or could know about Bela¡¯s mental state was something that might just need time. It was a complex thing to grasp, but Nela was smart and very caring.


    ¡°I hope no one gets hurt.¡±


    ¡°So do I.¡±


    It was likely that Nela knew that Bela needed special attention. I just wasn¡¯t prepared at this moment to roll the dice by teaching her about how exactly Bela was ¡®special¡¯. The outcome would be uncertain, and I had too much uncertainty already. It would wait for another time.


    ¡°So what do you need me to do?¡±


    ¡°I need to ¡®pretend¡¯ to see Dran much more often,¡± I reiterated slowly. It was a lot for her little heart to take in. ¡°So to do that, I need a reason.¡± A small, pregnant space for her to gather the information. ¡°That¡¯s where you come in.¡±


    I waited, wanting her to ask the logical question. ¡°How can I help?¡±


    All right. We were on the path now. Just needed to set the plan in motion and let the ball roll down the hill. ¡°If you can pretend to be interested in learning the Yghtl, then I can bring you into town. Not mom or dad or Bela will suspect us. You can even ask that I be the one to bring you in. I¡¯ll pretend to also want to know more about the ways of Mom¡¯s faith.¡±


    ¡°Mom¡¯s faith?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. She¡¯s the one who¡¯s been teaching it to us.¡±


    ¡°But don¡¯t we all believe in Ygh?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± I shook my head softly. ¡°Dad doesn¡¯t either.¡±


    Nela looked away from me, finally. Something was clicking in her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I wanna believe in Ygh either, then.¡±


    A slow sigh escaped me and I resisted the desire to point a finger at her. ¡°You can¡¯t do that yet. I mean, I agree that you should believe whatever you want, but if you want to help me then I need you to pretend. Can you do that?¡±


    The decision was weighed before she responded. ¡°Yeah, I can do that. If it will help you and Bela.¡±


    ¡°It will.¡± And that wasn¡¯t one hundred percent a lie. ¡°Here¡¯s what we need to do¡­¡±


    After I dropped Nela back with her friends, I found Dran right near the edge of the biggest fire. He was dressed in the most colorful and exotic of his makeups and standing much closer to the inferno than anyone else. It was almost comical to look at him, wearing branches lashed to his garment by strings made from grass and bramble. But he was a very intelligent man and I respected how dangerously sharp I would need to play this interaction, and all of the future interactions I would have with him.


    ¡°Dran.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Tyth?¡± He stopped from his own exuberant dancing to address me. The only difference between his dance and Nela¡¯s had been the somberness in which he did it, as if beseeching the very heavens themselves for all knowledge and wisdom in the world. For all I knew, he was probably doing just that.


    ¡°Nela and I would like to start stopping by - I mean - start to stop by to see you regularly for the next several weeks.¡±


    His inquisition was immediate. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°We have questions about the Yghtl and Nela herself knows very little. I¡¯d rather that you teach us than I just set her down a wrong path.¡±


    The man made no action to hide his distrust as he squinted at me, and his response was slow as he responded, laced with suspicion. ¡°You¡¯re a smart kid, Ty...and I know that from the last time we spoke.¡± He looked me dead in the eyes before continuing. There was almost a palpable malice to the way in which he regarded me now, which was close to the way we¡¯d left things previously. ¡°I have no doubt that you could, if you WANTED to, teach Nela everything she needs to know.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m actually no longer sure about that. She was wondering about the Yghtl and as we both know, I am not too keen on studying it anymore than I¡¯m forced to. So I don¡¯t know many things. For instance, she asked about why we bring fruit and grain to this harvest but not these:¡± I held up the flowers I¡¯d picked from outside our farm earlier that day. They¡¯d been hiding in my clothes and stunk from the heat of the day and after doing some dancing myself. A sick fascination to put them in Dran¡¯s face washed over me and receded as I let it go. It was all I could do to not smile as I thought about him groaning in disgust. They were already beginning to wilt and he could probably get a whiff of them anyway.


    Dran looked at the flowers and then at me with appalling shock and disbelief on his face. Eventually he just bypassed me. ¡°Fine. You can bring her here every week on whatever day your parents will let you. We¡¯ll arrange a time that works best and get to work. As for you, I don''t think I care if you show up or not.¡±


    That was perfect for me.


    Mom was next, but she turned out to be really easy to convince.


    Once I had mom on my side, and Nela in cahoots, dad and Bela fell in line. It became easy to line up with Dran when to take Nela into town for "indoctrination classes" (<- as I secretly called them to myself). He made his schedule open and as mom was under the impression that I was now falling in line, she was willing to turn my days for "class" (such as they were) into days spent with Dran. To keep the ruse, I now had free reign to either read, talk to Rosy, or plan for my ultimate goal. Dad was easy to predict, he wouldn''t come into town on the days I was taking Nela, or if he had to, he kept to his shop. I spent time stalking him. Watching him. I didn''t need to see him visiting the woman (I''d learned her name was Tesim from Bela earlier after much careful prodding). That mark was still too fresh. And being spotted by him or my talking to her could maybe ruin any plans I had.

 Chapter 4

    After a couple weeks, I learned much more about Ygh and the religion of my mother, more than I wanted to really.  However, I also got the benefits of my scheme.  All of the work and labor of my long awaited plotting was coming to fruition.  I was now in a spot where I felt in control.  I was...unlimited by father and I was free to do as I pleased.  If only once a week, I was now in control of my fate for a couple hours at a time at least.  It was a greedy desire, as I dropped off Nela to be indoctrinated by a man I despised.  But it was an exchange.  Or so I told myself.  She would suffer in this time (of lying and being told things she didn¡¯t agree with) and she would grow from it.  At the same moment I would be allowed the freedom.  The freedom to master my own fate and to truly set right the injustice that my father had done against our family.


    I began to stalk the ¡°woman of sin¡±.  That is what I called the woman that my dad was pursuing, in exchange for destroying our family.  I hated her only a tad less then I hated him, since she was allowing him to play the devil in a play that was sending our family into a hell that he was making.  Only now I was the one writing the play, watching as the actors resumed their parts.  I could change the course of this story''s conclusion, if I but waited.  Watched.  Studied.  I would have my chance to strike the knife where it would cut most deep.  My father would be severed from us, and my mother would come into her own, no longer held down by his heavy hand.  I would play the savior.  But for the sake of my mother, at most.  If not for us children, then for her.  I firmly believed we would survive.  My mother though, I pitied.  I pitied her most of all.


    This woman though¡­this Tesim¡­was an embodiment of desires that my father would¡¯ve found in any harlot.  And so she meant nothing.  She was nothing.  Still though...I desired to meet her.  To get the satisfaction of knowing myself right in the matter.  With each day that I read and gained mastery over my language and my world, the more self-assured I became.  I grew.  And along with my growth the assurance of my righteousness followed.  It was a heady time, as I found that I was following a sense of justice not only aligned with my mother¡¯s religion, but also with the state as well.  I would tell myself that I did not embody justice.  Yet the truth was that I believed so, just under the surface of my thoughts.


    To that point, I was blessed one afternoon:


    The original book was nothing like I¡¯d imagined.  It was supposed to be bound with gold lacing or real leather or something.  But it wasn¡¯t.  I was looking at the book, so humbly named ¡°King¡¯s Domain¡± (and not ¡°the¡± King¡¯s Domain as I thought) sitting on the shelf of the bookstore.  It wasn¡¯t gathering dust, only because it was a new book.  Many of these books sat for a while when placed in the back, before some random collector would pick them from the eager masses of literary works.  I envied the patrons, with their expendable incomes.  I would rule the world if I were able to buy books and read them at leisure.  But no.  I needed to debase myself to scrounging for Gahn¡¯s scraps, in exchange for meager payment, to read at times when I could steal myself from spying eyes back home.  No one had found my collection and they wouldn¡¯t.  It was great lengths to make sure of that.


    The book continued to sit there, and my hands trembled for only a moment as I considered whether to pick it up.  I was giving this thing too much respect.  It was merely a record.  A record of laws that were currently in effect, to keep peace in the realm.  It was nothing too special.  I moved to pick it up.  It was heavier than it looked.  As I cracked it open, it was far denser in word spacing than I had thought.  There were pages upon pages of interpretation dedicated to each premise: each law was expounded on and mused over, to make sure the proper interpretation of it would be ensured by the reader.


    For a moment I considered whether to let my curiosity get the best of me.  I was looking for a certain section in this book, hoping it was there.  As I contemplated, I thought it best to put it back on the shelf.  I didn¡¯t want to be caught looking at it strangely, without buying it.  There was no one in the back of the store and I didn¡¯t have line of sight with the clerk at the moment, but I didn¡¯t want to take the chance.  It was placed back on the shelf.  I took a deep breath and thought as clearly as I could.  I could wait.  I don¡¯t dare give away a single clue to my real intent.  Not now.  I¡¯d suffered too much and done too much already to let a little slip up cost me my goal.


    The store was left, book in place, unmolested.


    ¡°Here ya go¡±.


    Gahn handed the finished copy of King¡¯s Domain to me a few days later, right when he said it¡¯d be ready.  This one was nothing special on the outside.  But then again, nothing was that Gahn gave me.  They were simply pages transcribed by him with what he had to do for me without anyone knowing.  This one followed his own familiar tidy handwriting, same as the others, and was perfectly legible, yet now it was like reading my own handwriting, having spent so much time staring at words Gahn had written.  This one though, had been a rush job, and as I flipped loosely through it on top of his building, I found the ink was smeared or a drop of it had been placed by accident.  Gahn had fixed these in this book by only rewriting his mistake afterwards and correcting it with a comment as needed.  I had considered greatly whether to let him take the usual time (three or four weeks) of writing most copies for me.  They were always in pristine condition, and I expected to keep them for long amounts of time.  This though.  I could take the quicker route.  The book was a tool and I didn¡¯t need it to be perfect.  Only accurate.  With luck, in time, I would be able to buy the actual copy, and I would pay extra to have it emblazoned with flourish, to commemorate what it had done to me.  I only needed to confirm it contained what I needed.


    ¡°You called it ¡®the¡¯ King¡¯s Domain¡¯.  Why?¡±


    ¡°Oh.  It¡¯s just a way to refer to it.¡±


    For all his simple views on life and straight answers, I knew Gahn bested me in pure knowledge.  He¡¯d read more, just by the nature of his job.  And absorbed most of it.  He would tell me of books that I¡¯d never heard of, and I envied him for his work that he got paid to read so much.


    ¡°Why are you so interested in this thing?¡±


    I stared at Gahn.  Straight stared at him for a couple seconds, without blinking.  I didn¡¯t know how much I could tell him or trust him.  I had to weigh a lot of things in my head and determine if I even could.  So I broke the gaze after a bit.  ¡°It¡¯s personal, Gahn.¡±  I was about to sigh but he stopped me.


    ¡°Say no more.¡±  I looked up and saw that he was putting a hand up in a gesture.  The matter was concluded for him.


    ¡°Thanks.¡±  My head bobbed slightly in tandem with my words, conveying my deep thanks.


    Gahn didn¡¯t say anything.  I gave him a quick nod as I looked him in the eyes and then I left.


    On the way back home with Nela I debated where to best read the book.  It was a momentous occasion and I was thinking I would remember this moment for years to come.  Whether it contained what I wanted or not, the words on these pages would set me on a path one way or the other.  Nela had stopped asking me questions after a couple weeks.  The whole R''osy and Bela conspiracy had fascinated her but I told her ¡°Wait.  I need to work on this before I can let you know.¡±  The answer had bothered her so much that I would cry at night when in my room, away from anyone who could hear.  She was such a kind caring person and I knew that I was well loved.  The lies I was telling to her were eating away at me little by little and I knew that I enjoyed it in some sense, or else I wouldn¡¯t do it.  I was enjoying being in power, even if it meant using the people who loved me.  Even if it meant killing parts of my own soul.  Because doing so was bringing me things like the book, which carried a heavy and comforting weight in my bag.  To hide it from Nela, I¡¯d put a cloth and several pieces of bread for lunch on top of it.


    I had decided that I would be the most practical and secretive as necessary for this next part.  I had originally thought about leaving the book in I''lochin, and waiting until next week to go back and read it.  However, that was a week too long.  I wanted to find out before then, because based on a gut feeling, I knew I might want to visit the woman and deal with this sooner than later.  I had no idea what this book would contain and I was wondering if I would even find something that could give me the satisfaction I wanted.  So, in the end, I decided I would need to read it as soon as possible.  If it came up blank, I¡¯d go searching for something else.  Whatever I needed to bring my dad his earned fate as soon as possible.


    The next morning, mom tasked us with cleaning weeds from the garden.  Again, school was given a lower priority, and I¡¯d gone to great lengths to not draw attention to myself, in regards to my continued reading.  A lot of the words I¡¯d learned in reading so many books had to be ¡°forgotten¡± so I wouldn¡¯t use a bunch of words that my mom hadn¡¯t heard.  If I accidentally let one slip, it would possibly give away the whole conspiracy.  And the first couple weeks had been the hardest.  Words were my first love nowadays and I became quite dumb for a bit as I was super selective in what words I could use.  It was a learned skill to know how to regress myself back to a place where I didn¡¯t know what I knew now.


    As for the weeding of the garden, I did not do it.  Or rather, I did ask Bela if he could do my part for me.  I wanted to spend some time by myself and I would pay him back by doing some of his chores.  He agreed, and there was no ask or follow up from him.  He simply trusted me.  A slight twinge of guilt again, as I walked to the other side of our land, out of eye sight, before sneaking back to the tree line.  The trees stood there, having previously been used to shed my blood.  They continued to not care about my existence, continuing to outlive me, carefree, unless I should decide to take an ax to them.  They were at my mercy, in a way.  But on the other hand, if I didn¡¯t touch them, they would live longer and easier lives than me.  I had to respect them somewhat for what they were: living things with greater time given to them to enjoy a much simpler way.  I was respected by them, for what I was: a cursed things, doomed to suffer greater joy and suffering, with the ability to kill them for my own gain...did I see the trees in the same way that I saw some kinds of other people?


    The thought passed by as I looked at Gahn¡¯s copy of King¡¯s Domain.


    It opened with a silent thump, pages making their familiar rustling noise as I played carefully with the twine.  Gahn would thread the pages together meticulously, which I surmised he knew from his paid work - legally paid work that is.  I appreciated the attention to detail he paid, even with this rush job.  As I fiddled with the strings delicately, it seemed they were sturdy and may last for several years, even without tender care (though I would be careful for them, regardless).  As I gingerly moved through its contents, the papyrus was making the only other noise besides a light breeze.


    I paused and looked up at the tree branches above.  The wind was moving.  The wind moved the trees.  I looked out over the field, out to where our house lay in the countryside, where in the side yard I saw the tree I sat under just a month or so ago.  It was such a lifetime ago it seemed.  I''d read so much in a fury and taken in so much information that my vocabulary had grown probably several times over.  It was odd to look on that spot, imagining myself as what I might regard as a child.  A sigh escaped me as I tried to embrace the moment.  The pages were before me but this moment seemed to need a moment for reflection.  It was necessary to myself that I pause here, and reflect on how far I''d come in the past few weeks...and how much farther I would be willing to go even yet, depending on what I would find¡­


    "By the founding of King M''ark,


    These pages do chronicle here in,


    Laws and regulations (<need to look this word up) that establish precedence (<find out) necessary to give credence (<lookup) to the *legitimate reign of said ruler.


    On the nature of manners addressing the *establishment of rule¡­"


    I started in with a quill I''d brought, writing "need to look this word up" next to words like ¡°regulations¡± and others.  Eventually I resolved to just putting a * next to all the words I didn¡¯t know.  And I gave up after a couple pages.  Thumbing through the pages took a bit of time, but I found what I was looking for after all this work:


    "Law *decree: lying


    On the matter of lying,


    Those found guilty in the matter of giving false words that are made to *deceive,


    The king¡¯s justice will be met by means in *accordance to the judgment used by the King¡¯s *Bastion.


    To *Wit, the King¡¯s Bastion will ensure that punishment is made according to what lie is performed and how the damage of that lie is realized.  The Bastion carries the fullness of the King¡¯s ¡°Mind¡± and all outcomes are given with the same weight as if the King were acting *thusly.¡±


    I stared at the words I didn¡¯t recognize: decree, deceive, Bastion, wit...thusly.


    ¡°Deceive¡± I guessed to mean some form of lie or to trick someone, based on how it sounded.  Also, the other laws were spelled kind of the same way, where the words would change to explain the illegal act.  They didn¡¯t use the same word twice, many times.  Deceive must be something to do with lying then.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The rest of the words I¡¯d have to look up by other means.  For the words that I had to know, I would ask Gahn.  And if he didn¡¯t know...well I didn¡¯t know who else to ask, although he could probably find out from the owner of the book shop.  I didn¡¯t want to ask Gahn for too many favors though.  I was paying him, sure, but I knew he had to be giving me a deal, based on what things cost normally at the shop itself.  Or maybe the shop owner was just making a lot of money off the things and wasn¡¯t paying Gahn much.  I didn¡¯t know, and I didn¡¯t think I could ask without making him mad.


    I did have my answer though.  Lying was illegal, and I could probably get dad on that crime.  Mom didn¡¯t know what was happening, and obviously I hadn¡¯t either.  If necessary, I would do what I had to make sure everyone knew that he¡¯d lied to me.  But the question was still there: how to do it.  How to get him to answer for what he had done.  What he was still doing.  I would need to use the law to get at him.


    And for that, I would need the ¡°King¡¯s Bastion¡±...Which I didn¡¯t know what that was.  It might be some kind of thing or person or idea or...even game or part of Ygh.  I didn¡¯t know.


    I put the book back into the little box I kept buried next to the tree.  Inside that box, I was careful to make sure it stayed clean while wrapped in some clothes.   Those spare clothes I¡¯d made one of my little ¡®spies¡¯ steal from a random I''lochin resident.


    When I walked back on to the farm from the nearby forest, I didn¡¯t know something was terribly wrong until I was already inside the house.


    Dad was sitting at the common table, with pieces of paper laid out before him.  The papers looked familiar, and a second later when he looked at me, I¡¯d already felt my heart drop out of me.


    ¡°Did you think¡­¡±  He said, as he put his left hand calmly onto a pile of them.  ¡°That I wouldn¡¯t find these.  And that I wouldn¡¯t know they¡¯re about us?¡±


    I had no words.  I thought about the stories.  About the writing I¡¯d done.  The emotions I¡¯d poured into Tyth and his good family of heroes.  What had I written?  He¡¯d been reading books, my main hero.  He¡¯d been buying them with money his dad gave him.  His dad was a king.  His sister was a healer.  His older brother was a soldier.  His mom was the queen, who was the writer of the books that Tyth read.  Would that be enough for my own secret book stash to be found?


    ¡°ANSWER ME!¡±  Dad shouted and I noticed, somehow, that the whole house had been quiet since I¡¯d walked in.  Thank the morning sun that I didn¡¯t keep my books near my writings, which were under my bed . . . in my room . . . oh no.  I¡¯d left the papers on top of my bed.  Like a simple minded fool . . .


    When my dad got no response he rose from the chair.  ¡°ANSWER ME!¡±


    I had no words.  Shock.  Fear.


    He closed the space between us in two steps.  When he grabbed me by the shoulders I gasped quietly.  Pure rage in his eyes locked my gaze on him.  I couldn¡¯t look away.


    He took my right arm and yanked me over to the table where he bunched up the papers with a free hand and then dragged me into the kitchen.  Mom had her usual dinner fire going.


    The papers were tossed into the fire.


    ¡°NO!¡±


    Dad smacked me in the face.  ¡°YOU DON¡¯T WRITE ABOUT OUR FAMILY!¡±


    Something in me came at him.  My right hand turned into a claw as I tried to scratch at my dad, getting only close enough to the jaw before sinking fingernails there.  He screamed curtly and almost in surprise, but a second later his hand, which had never left the grip of my own right arm dug into me.  I cried in pain.


    In blind fury, he took a knife from the nearby rack and cut me on my right palm, near the thumb.  Nothing too shallow, but I cried out in more surprise than immediate pain.  ¡°YOU MOTHERLESS CURSE!¡±  The words left my mouth before I could think them.


    Dad looked at me with shock for maybe the first time in his life.  And then his brow furrowed.  His jaw became set.  And he glared at me with an anger I¡¯d never seen before.  Slowly he overpowered me as he took both hands ahold of my right arm now.  The blood from my palm had started to slowly drip onto the floor.


    When he started moving me towards the boiling pot of food, it took all of a split second for me to understand his intention.  I fought him as I could, but he was much bigger and stronger.  All I could do was as we became inches away from the scalding water, I laid hold of the rim of the cauldron, to keep him from putting my hand in.


    Pain shot through my hand all the way up to my skull.  My legs began to feel weak, not wanting to hold up any weight.  My mouth opened slightly as every sound within me escaped.  My mind went outside of itself, watching a child lean away from a mad father while that same child also held onto a burning hot basin.  My hand was now gripped in a lock it seemed, almost unable to let go of the burning feeling, even while my father tugged to try and shove my hand further into more pain.


    After a couple hours worthy of eternity, the legs gave way and my body fell to the floor.  Because my hand was still death-latched to the rim of the pot, I fell sideways and down near the fair underneath.  Heat brushed my face immediately, but my mind no longer cared.  I would cook.


    The last thing I remembered was dad picking me up from the ground.  My hand let go.


    When I awoke, my right hand was bandaged.  No one in the house said anything about what happened.  My papers were destroyed.


    Life continued on in our family, unchanged.  Same as it always had.


    A week later


    As Nela continued her education with Dran, I watched the woman of sin perform the chores that every devil must know by heart: going to the market, buying gifts as her little child begged her for them, talking with other women in I''lochin.  She lived a totally normal life on the outside.  Even from several blocks away I would be within earshot of catching loud laughter and faint muddied sounds of her name being called by men with smiles too good for their own good.  She seemed to be liked by many.  I may have been (besides my father) one of the few that knew her sin existed.


    This day, she was walking back to her house and I was several blocks ahead of her.  The route down this street would always lead her back to her place, so when she had stepped on to the change in cobblestone patchwork a quarter mile back, I was able to sprint ahead, waiting.  It was a simple little trick, to not let her know I was following her.  I¡¯d been very careful to make sure she didn¡¯t notice me, as most of the time, I kept to the rooftops when I could.


    Other times, after learning her routes, I was able to grab several different colored bottles that dad would use for potions.  By pretending I was making deliveries for customers, I was able to make a ¡°route¡±.  That allowed me to pass by her frequented places.  With the brightly colored bottles and a few trays that looked nothing alike, my hope was that she would think I was running errands to customers or something.  To help me stay in one place, while spying, I would make runs to different doorsteps or vendors.  If anyone would ask what I was doing I would whisper to them ¡°secret spy stuff¡± and give a sly look.  The grownups would wink and smile most of the time or shoo me away at others.  If so, I would just find another place to ¡°drop a secret bottle¡±.  Kids would sometimes ask why I was writing such weird symbols in my little notebook (a little paper I had folded up to resemble a notebook).  The answer would be the same, ¡°secret spy stuff¡± as a whisper.  Most of these kids would get mad that they couldn¡¯t be a spy too.  So to keep them quiet, I would recruit them: go follow this person, or go deliver a message under this rock out in the countryside, but make sure the message is in code, like this (the symbols would be scrambled and only I knew the fake code I was using, which was mostly invented based on a simple line system and would be easy to crack).  But this took care of the kids with too much imagination or time on their hands.


    On this particular day, it had been a few moments, and I was still waiting for the woman of sin to turn down the alley.  Turned out that keeping my new found army of kids away from me was harder than usual.  What turned into a very complicated game with many stories, I had worked a time to be alone from them, while in town, while the woman was at home, and while dad wasn¡¯t here.  It was a very small window but I¡¯d done it.  And at this moment, I wondered if I should put my head out into the street to find her.  No, better to wait.  I was observing only, to learn what I could of her, and this was part of my ritual while I waited on ¡°book days¡±, for Gahn to get done with his regular job.  I was unable to reach out to him while he was working, and I could only really talk to him from the roof without drawing suspicion while it was darker and the streets were even more empty than they usually were.  This was probably the real reason I had asked Dran to work with Nela near sunset as it would-


    While I was lost in thought, hiding behind empty crates in the alley, R''osy sat down beside me.


    She did it with such swift quietness that I hadn¡¯t even looked around to the end of the alley to watch for the woman of sin.  Usually I heard her by her footsteps.  As for R''osy,  she wasn¡¯t wearing shoes.  The dress barely made a sound either as she sat down beside me.


    I looked at her, wide-eyed and mouth open.  A sound would have escaped me but she simply reached over, pinched my lips shut, and put a finger to her own, telling me silently that I needed to be the same way.  A moment later, I expected to hear the woman of sin''s footsteps.  But they never came.  I looked quickly around the corner, before R''osy could stop me.  No one there.  I looked back at her.  The mood on her face was somewhere between mad and tired.  I would think more like angry boredom.  I¡¯d seen it on Nela¡¯s face sometimes when she would be upset about having to visit Dran.


    ¡°So where¡¯s Nela?¡±


    I looked at her without thinking, wondering why such an obvious answer would be asked.  ¡°At hom-¡±  I stopped.  She was with Dran.  How quickly I forget things when I¡¯m in my own little world, doing things for myself.  Was I really so selfish?  ¡°She¡¯s with Dran.¡±  There was no harm in telling her.  But I didn¡¯t know why she was asking.


    ¡°Oh?  So you found a babysitter then?¡±


    I still hadn¡¯t caught on.  ¡°A babysitter?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.  Someone to look after her.  Like say during a festival or something¡­¡±


    The harvest had been weeks ago, and I¡¯d spent so much time reading and plotting, that it felt like years had gone by.  It really felt like I¡¯d seen R''osy so long ago...when was the last time I¡¯d talked to her in Uncle Nelg¡¯s shop?...I tried to remember¡­


    And then it dawned on me.  ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I forgot to get back to you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.  And I missed all of the festival for nothing.¡±


    ¡°Were you really going to go to it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± *sigh* ¡°I don¡¯t know now.  I¡¯ll have to wait til next year.¡±


    ¡°There will be other festivals.¡±


    ¡°Yeah but that¡¯s not the point...you should¡¯ve told me that you found someone else to watch Nela.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.  Sorry.  I got distracted.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I paused in my response.  What would I tell her?  ¡°Why what?¡±


    ¡°Why did you ¡®get distracted¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s that ¡®oh¡¯ again.  Going to say sorry again?¡±


    I thought about what I had learned and what I¡¯d been through in these past few weeks.  A lot of emotions came out without thinking.  ¡°I don¡¯t have to explain myself to you.¡±


    That seemed to disarm her.  Something switched.  She grew soft, and the anger pretty much disappeared.  It was swift.  Too fast for me to really understand.  ¡°I wasn¡¯t asking you to.  I mean, I wasn¡¯t needing you to.  I was just mad at you.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m sorry.  I really am.  A lot is happening in my life right now.¡±


    ¡°Oh really?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.  But I can¡¯t really talk about it.  At least, not yet.¡±


    ¡°Can I ask why?¡±


    ¡°You can ask.  I can¡¯t tell you.¡±


    This was the most one on one and open conversation I¡¯d had with her in a long time.  I had forgotten that I missed it.  And that hurt.  Keeping things from her seemed to be wrong, somehow, even though she wasn¡¯t family.  ¡°Again, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    There was a slight nod from her.  ¡°I understand.¡±  The faintest whisper of a sigh and voice cracking seemed to be in her voice.  Wind swept through the alley and made some leaves rustle past us.


    A beat later she moved us off the topic.  ¡°So what are you doing hiding behind boxes while waiting to scare a pretty lady?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hiding.  I¡¯m waiting.¡±  A better lie came to me.  ¡°I¡¯m thinking.¡±  Then I made a connection.  ¡°A lady?¡±


    ¡°The lady you¡¯ve been following around all day.¡±


    ¡°How do you know about her?¡±


    ¡°I...Saw...You...Following...Her.¡±


    ¡°Why were you watching me?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve been able to catch a glimpse of you for weeks.  Usually you¡¯re with your dad¡­¡±


    ¡°.....¡±


    ¡°So when I saw you I followed you.  You seemed really keen to know where she was going.  Who is she?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t tell you.¡±


    ¡°Huh.  Well, I think you owe me something.  You left me without a word or explanation.  Now I see you acting like an assassin or some other kind of creep, following around a woman.  Is that why you wanted me to see to Nela for you?  So you could go off and do whatever perverted thing you mi-¡±


    ¡°I AM NOT A PERVERT!¡±  I said this louder than I meant to, but only because I needed her to know I wasn¡¯t one.


    She stopped mid-sentence and went slightly red in the face.  ¡°.....why should I believe you?¡±  She folded her arms a moment later, demanding an explanation.


    It was there.  Waiting on a ledge.  Do I tell her everything?  It was all there, really just waiting to spill out into someone.  But I had no idea if R''osy could be trusted.  She¡¯d been let in, sure, but maybe not enough.  Would she keep my secrets?  Would she agree with my plan?  Would she help?  Or would she tear it all down and ruin me.  It was too much to trust at one time.  I supposed I needed to make at least some kind of attempt to soothe her.  Give her what she needed to at least stop, if not truly be an ally in my fight.


    ¡°I¡¯m following her for very specific reasons.  I¡¯m not going to tell you why.¡±


    Something looking like disappointment shone behind her eyes for a moment and she looked away and squinted.  I could tell that she was weighing things in her mind, but would need to wait to see how she responded.  ¡°Thought about blackmailing you.¡±  A shrug came from her shoulders.  ¡°But if you can¡¯t tell me, I guess I won¡¯t know anyway.¡±  Another diversion from my eyes.  ¡°And I¡¯m not going to hurt you¡­.¡±  She noticed for the first time that my right hand was bandaged.  One of her fingers gingerly came out to touch it.


    I drew my damaged hand away.


    I had so much indescribable rage in this moment, I almost started convulsing.  Everything.  All of it.  It was at the surface.  I hated myself for not being able to hide my emotions.  I felt like crying.  Like hitting her.  Like killing myself.  Killing my father.  I¡¯d been carrying this all by myself for a couple weeks, and it was starting to weigh on me.  I wanted to unburden myself to...someone¡­


    I didn¡¯t trust R''osy.


    If anything in life had sunk in, it was that I couldn¡¯t trust people.  And that made me even angrier.  I was mad at all of humankind.  And that I was part of it.  That I had been born.  And now I wanted to be alone.  I¡¯d wasted enough time with this distraction...this silly little girl who could not know my pain...so I just stood up and walked out of the alley, away from all of it.  R''osy called to me, but I didn¡¯t turn.


    I¡¯d return when I would be alone.

 Chapter 5

    I made it a point to see R''osy every time I was in town with dad.  I needed her off my back, and it seemed to please her to at least see me.  For my part, I crafted my lies better, and learned the truths that were needed for what I needed to accomplish.  To keep R''osy off of me and the matter of the woman of sin, I apologized (though my lack of sincerity wasn¡¯t caught).  I cracked jokes.  Played the game.  Even brought Bela along (my lie to dad was that I was having him learn the prices of what he made in uncle Nelg¡¯s store so he could one day be a better businessman).  All the while, my anger grew.  Deepened.  Compelled me.  I had dreams of killing the woman.  Or my dad.  I would wake up, smiling, ready to greet the day.  It was like a fire, fueling me.  And I allowed myself the damage it was doing, because it helped me move forward with my days.  My tinder was the injustice of an unheard scream; a soul that cried without a voice to those without ears.  I was becoming blind inside the darkness shrouding my heart.  It was more comfortable than the truth of what I could see when I opened my eyes.  Because of the uneven schedule the woman of sin kept, it was difficult to find the times to catch her unawares and alone.  In spaces where she might slip up and reveal more of what I could use against my father.  R''osy¡¯s appearance had ruined one of the very few openings.  A slow and quiet part of me hated her for it.  And to fuel that hatred, I found the woman¡¯s schedule harder to follow and predict.  It became almost impossible to catch her when she was home, and I was alone, at the same time.


    I¡¯d found a bottle that my dad hid in the closet in his room, and by slowly pouring some of the drink out over several days (while also making sure it had been drunk a little by him), I¡¯d acquired a bit of my own hidden spirits collection.  It occurred to me after the fact that if I added a little water slowly to cover my removal, he might buy more (thinking the strength was weakening).  But then...if he bought more, he might drink more...which I did not know if I wanted to play a hand in increasing.  I¡¯d seen enough of his own rage to know that additional fire would only burn hotter and maybe melt metals along with brush.  And all of this is to say, I¡¯d been drinking on the day I¡¯d gone to see the woman.  And now I was out.  It would take time to refill.


    While my spying and tailing of her went along, with my refill of spirits also happening, it gave me time to also visit the bookstore.  But I needed a means to do so.  Nela has stopped visiting Dran by now (she¡¯d simply had enough to keep up the lie), and I had decided to visit him as well, out of necessity for my need to move about town freely, but also due to a lie from my mom and to Nela.  All of this, because it had also occurred to me, that maybe Dran or others knew about the sin, the lie, to my mother, and I could use this to my advantage.  Maybe they would all be taken up and punished, all the people who had helped feed the monster who was destroying our family.  Beating the kids in it.  Shaming the mother¡­


    I sat outside Dran¡¯s door on some random weekday, looking into the town circle from this narrow side street.  I took a deep breath, collecting my thoughts.  The stones underneath had turned cool and a gentle breeze was making me shiver, though it was cat-basking warm outside in the midday sun.  I wasn¡¯t wearing much in the way of clothing.  The streamers of blue and green floated on Dran¡¯s house, from the breeze, as they¡¯d been doing for the couple hours I¡¯d been here.  The smell of forest had wafted from his door, where the moss was growing onto the timber frames of his doorway.  In a way it made me feel at home; in the countryside.  There were more smells here, unfamiliar things.  Exciting things.  Compared to home, where I knew all of the smells, all the sights, the sounds.  My senses were on edge in town.  Alive.


    By now, I had arranged enough deals with Gahn that I could also leave my spare set of good clothes with him, so that when I needed to visit the bookstore, I could just get those from him.  They were kept for me, in a weather-proof box on his fourth floor landing, and I could easily sneak onto the roof and grab them whenever I needed them without being noticed.  More so, I paid him to have them cleaned.  I gave Mom a raggedy look-alike of my clothes, and made a tale of a beating I¡¯d received on the way back home.  To sell the story even more, I cut my face a little on jagged rocks and lost the money she¡¯d given me to buy some items in town.  It cost me a bit of money, and that money I¡¯d only gotten by trading Gahn even more vials I could knick without getting caught.  But it was worth it.  The books were a salve on my soul.  The words were helping define my world.


    Dran walked up to his house and had obviously spotted me before I¡¯d spotted him.  ¡°Tyth.  This is a surprise.¡±


    Silence sat there for a couple seconds.  I had arrived at the same time and day that Nela had been coming just two weeks ago, but it seemed Dran had moved on, since he wasn¡¯t there and I had to wait for him.  The funny thought had passed inside my mind that I, who was planning all of these things, was now sitting, waiting for the plans of others.  For the plans of Dran in this instance.


    ¡°Dran.¡±


    He cocked his head sideways at me, squinting.  Thinking.  Not trusting me.  Fair.  I didn¡¯t trust him.  ¡°Ty.¡±  He said again.  He expected me to explain my presence.


    ¡°.......¡±  I sighed.  There were several ways I wanted to attack this, but I didn¡¯t know which would work.


    ¡°Tyth?¡±  Although I didn¡¯t look at him (I was staring at the cobblestone street at my feet now), I could almost see or hear him tapping his foot impatiently.  ¡°Have you come here for a reason?¡±


    Yeah, to annoy you.


    ¡°One second.  Thinking¡­¡±  I put my hands to my face, trying to come up with the best way to disarm him.  And after a moment, it came to me.  ¡°Do you know what day and time it is?¡±  I looked to him now, keeping my focus for the debate to begin.


    ¡°Yes.  It is the time I was usually teaching your sister.  That is until last week.¡±  He leveled his head at me.  ¡°And you are here now, at the same time and date.¡±


    The bastard.  He really wanted me to do it.  ¡°Yes.  And it¡¯s because I am considering coming to you.¡±


    ¡°For what?  Teaching?¡±  Dran raised an eyebrow at me.  The beard moved ever so slightly along with it.


    ¡°Possibly....¡±


    Dran shifted his stance and leveled his gaze at me.  Although it was hidden by the beard, I almost thought his jawline flexed at the same time.  ¡°What is it you really want Tyth?¡±


    I had decided well before this how the half-truth would be told, and I had tried as much as possible to think ahead of him and what response he gave.  A quick breath and I decided to make the plunge.


    ¡°How much do you know about my family?  I mean, you¡¯ve been meeting with Nela enough...she may have told you some things during your lessons.¡±


    He almost took a step back as his cocky attitude came undone slightly.  A hand raised itself from his side, palm opening in a weird sign of submission.  I¡¯d almost seen the same thing done by my brother or my mom, when dad was getting after them.  ¡°Ty¡­¡±  It was his turn to take a deep breath.  ¡°I know some things.  Things you¡¯re well aware of.  But don¡¯t worry, Nela hasn¡¯t told me anything that wou-¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not concerned with if she told you or not.¡±  The words came out hot.  I didn¡¯t care.  ¡°I¡¯m concerned with whether you do know.¡±  I had turned my face back to the cobblestone.  I couldn¡¯t bear to look at anyone, for fear of crying or hitting.  Maybe both.  I needed to keep myself in control.  Dark anger, back in the room where I need you.  The added benefit was that I was keeping Dran on the retreat instead of the attack now.  Just like I hoped.  ¡°What.  Do.  You.  Know?¡±


    He stood there, helpless now.  He knew enough, for sure.  And if he didn¡¯t learn from Nela, he¡¯d known before.  And I hated him even more now.  Burn him and the religion he rode in on for not doing anything about it.  Poor mom for believing such idiotic things.  I pitied her even more now.


    ¡°I know some things.¡±  He winced slightly.  This was uncomfortable for him.  Not that I cared now.  I would¡¯ve respected him for being ignorant.  Now, I despised him for being arrogant.  ¡°What I do know...I don¡¯t know if I can tell you, Ty.¡±  He hung his head after a long pause.  It dawned on me that he¡¯d been switching between ¡°Tyth¡± and my nickname.  I didn¡¯t know what to make of that.  ¡°I...I know you¡¯ve been through a lot.¡±  Swear to everything unnatural: I could almost see tears or compassion from him when I stole a glance his way.  ¡°If I could do anything, I want you to know that I would.¡±


    I was caught up.  Half between pure rage and also relentless despair.  I was ready to undo myself.  But what I could do, all I knew how to do, was not process those things.  Leave them locked in the rooms they owned within me.  I was keeping them from coming to the surface.  Looking at them, without passion.  Without emotion.  I owned them because they did not own me.  So I calculated what I could do with what Dran had told me.


    ¡°You know...there might.¡±  I said this not with desperation, but with pure logic.  I called that a win in the emotional battle I was mastering within.  ¡°I could use someone to talk to.¡±  And there was the trap.  If I could get him to admit to the lies he¡¯d been helping cover up, and also tell me in what ways I might use them against him, against my dad, against everyone, then this gamble will have been worth it.  Maybe he¡¯d even help me learn what the King¡¯s Bastion was, if it was something I could use to my advantage.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you come in?¡±


    Sitting next to a crackling fire, warm cider in my hand, Dran retired for a moment to don more comfortable robes.  While I waited, I took in the surroundings.  The room felt only slightly familiar.  I¡¯d had faint memories of being here for random moments of my life (celebration of my sister¡¯s birth, weddings or deaths of people my mother knew).  It had been a while since I¡¯d come back.  Many years.  Ever since I started to talk bad about Ygh near my mom.  She stopped bringing me after that.  Still, this humble living space was where Nela had spent a number of hours over the past couple months learning the lessons that she hated so much.  I thought about how many times she¡¯d argued with Dran.  She would tell me as much each week, and over what.  I would smile, thinking of the ways I agreed with her.  In fact, I even helped her craft the weaker arguments into strong ones.  And I had no doubt Dran knew as much.  She always kept up the fake arrangement we had made, but I realized now that she had done a great thing for me, believing it would help Bela and me.  I¡¯d almost forgotten Bela.  The lies were getting complex and I was making moves.  Things were getting missed.  I¡¯d need to shelve that thought and come back to it later.  I had a task to perform in the here and now.


    Dran returned a few minutes later, as I meditated.  He wore simple pants and a shirt, almost the same color as his priestly clothes, but they looked much more comfortable.  The baggy earthen pants and threaded shirt he wore out and about was a sign of his humility and connection to the earth.  He mended his own clothes too.  But here, he was in something resembling the attire dad wore at home.  Simple knitting, but expertly done.  Not done by Dran, for sure.  He wouldn¡¯t have the skill, time, or want or his own priestly work would be of higher quality.  He almost caught me staring but I turned to the fire as he started speaking.


    ¡°So.  Let¡¯s begin simply.  What did you want to talk about?¡±  He seemed nonchalant in this moment, and to that point, I noted that he¡¯d failed to mention or even look at my damaged hand.  Maybe it was something he chalked up to kids hurting themselves.


    ¡°What do you know about my family?¡±  I repeated my un-passioned question from the street.


    A slighter sigh from him this time, now that he had readied himself.  ¡°Ty, you know that your mother is a much more devout follower of the Ygh than...well anyone else in your family.¡±


    He stopped speaking, waiting for something.  My response probably.  ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°And as her spiritual leader, I know a lot of things that you almost certainly do not.  Things I cannot share because I will not.  Out of respect to your mom.  And whether you know it or not, out of respect to you.  Do you understand?¡±


    I kind of did and yet at the same time I disagreed completely.  ¡°Yeah that makes sense.  I don¡¯t think I can argue with you.¡±


    ¡°So.  The question becomes, Ty: what do you know?¡±  He was putting me on the defense, but I couldn¡¯t really do much to upset that balance without showing more hand than I wanted.  So best to play what he thought I had.


    As I thought about the question ¡°what do you know?¡±, I closed my eyes.  Very real emotions were jumping around inside me.  As I tried to put the words in the air, I was caught.  There was SO much shame and anger that I was dealing with.  And as a consequence, the words I wanted to say would be themselves an admission of what I was going through.  But I would¡¯ve rather pulled teeth than name that darkness in my life.  In fact, killing him would be better than speaking of what he¡¯d done.  To kill the darkness along with him and never put it in the light.  But...here I am, trying to take the next step in ending the darkness.


    I had been breathing pretty hard by this point.  When I opened my eyes I saw that my hands were on my chest.  Dran was looking at me with concern, his eyes wide.  He looked ready to jump out of his chair and come over to me.  But something told me he was waiting.  Wanting me to speak.  He would only come over here if he needed to.  He wanted me to work through this.  I hated him for a half-second and then went back into myself, focusing.


    All of the emotions, every single one: I dumped them into a void within myself.  They disappeared and my breath steadied.  I brought up the words before me, in my mind.


    I stared at them, in my mind.  And then I let them disappear into the void.  And when they had gone, I said them outloud, as if they weren¡¯t part of me:


    ¡°My dad beats us.¡±


    I blinked away from the fire and looked at Dran, my job was complete.  He was now the burdened, carrying my secret with me.  As intended.


    Dran leaned back in his chair and looked at the fire for a bit.  When he had worked out whatever was within him, as I stared at him, he returned to me.  ¡°I know.¡±


    It took a second, but the words leapt at me without warning: then WHY HAVEN¡¯T YOU DONE ANYTHING, YOU WORTHLESS SCUM!


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    I blinked in the face of the emotion and looked back to the fire.  It was my turn to process.  I rubbed my left eye, feeling very, very tired all of a sudden.  The emotion came and went quickly, like a sudden reflex when someone taps you without warning.  I was surprised that I hadn¡¯t needed to fight it off again.  Thankful really.  And I didn¡¯t give it much more thought, out of fear it might return.


    This is where I needed to be very careful.  It was the moment I needed to use to get what I wanted, but I couldn¡¯t be honest about that.  I needed to play a part that gave me what I wanted.  And to do it, I had figured out what strings to pull:


    ¡°There¡¯s other things too.¡±  At this point I could just name old hurts that had become scars more than anything, just to fling his way and put him on the defense.  ¡°You¡¯re new to the position you¡¯re in.  Two years ago, before you arrived, I was reading the Yghtl, following Yhg, going to the weekly meetings.¡±  I let that sit for a second, to surprise him.  It didn¡¯t do the trick.  He kept listening and watching, not making a response.  Oh well.  I continued.  ¡°There were things¡­¡±  I took a short sigh and quick heavy breath.  ¡°Things that happened while I was in the young group.  I was picked on.  Messed with.  Things happened to me.  Things I didn¡¯t want.¡±  I bit my lip slightly, without wanting to.  ¡°Let¡¯s just say that I experienced things that I won¡¯t talk about, and that I don¡¯t believe Ygh would¡¯ve wanted.  They did not match the goodness of the earth, that¡¯s for sure.¡±


    Dran waited the right amount of time before responding, to respect what it took for me to tell him all of that.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry that happened to you, Tyth.¡±  His use of my full name didn¡¯t have the same sting in it that it seemed to have just an hour ago.  He was showing (whether authentic or not) compassion for my hurt.  Which I found annoying at the very least, and wasn¡¯t sure if I believed anyway.  ¡°And, I don¡¯t believe whoever hurt you was following the true will of Ygh anyway.¡±


    There was the flip.  Dran was starting to go back onto his horse, and if I let him, he¡¯d start going on about the things we always debated and argued about.  But if I put him on the right path, he would give me the very rope I was looking to tie him up with.  ¡°I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s happening with my family now is the will of Ygh either.¡±


    ¡°No.  I don¡¯t think it is either.¡±


    ¡°So.  What can be done about it?¡±


    ¡°Well.  Prayer first.  And of course, the proper sacrifices.¡±


    He said it so quickly and as if it was logical that I wanted to just start laughing at him.  But all I could do was slowly exhale through my nose, so my mouth wouldn¡¯t go completely loud with mockery.  He seemed to catch part of my reaction.  He lowered his head in slight, quiet submission.  ¡°I know.  You don¡¯t put much faith in the faith.¡±  A slight grin from him for the joke he¡¯d made to himself.  ¡°But if you¡¯re looking for a more ¡®skin on tool¡¯ way, then you can love your father.¡±


    It took a second to hit me.  ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You could love your dad for who he is.  A hurt man who is hurting others.¡±


    I blinked several times and then it started to sink in.  ¡°You want me to forgive my dad?!¡±  I could¡¯ve shouted the words if I weren¡¯t unsure Dran was misunderstanding my situation.


    ¡°Yes, but-¡±


    ¡°NO!¡±  I yelled the response.  Not meaning too.


    ¡°But Ty, your father is worthy of love.¡±


    Dran¡¯s words both made me angry and confused at the same time.  Logic left me as I stood up.  ¡°NO!  I mean...just...No!¡±  I was ready to throw something.  This response was unplanned for.  If he was trying to say that my father was somehow not at fault for what was happening¡­


    ¡°Ty, listen.¡±  He put out a hand, trying to calm me.


    I didn¡¯t want calm.  ¡°Did you hear me?  He beats us!¡±


    ¡°I know but-¡±


    ¡°THERE IS NO BUT!  DEATH UPON YOU, DRAN!  DISEASE, THEN DEATH!¡±


    ¡°Ty-¡±


    ¡°NO!¡±


    ¡°Ty listen-¡±


    ¡°LISTEN TO WHAT?!  YOU¡¯RE NOT MAKING SENSE.¡±


    ¡°Ty¡­¡±


    Silence.  Waiting for Dran to continue.  He didn¡¯t.  Just looked at me.


    ¡°WHAT!¡±


    ¡°Ty¡­¡±


    ¡°I SAID ¡®WHAT¡¯!¡±


    ¡°Ty...listen to me.¡±


    I waited for him to keep speaking.  I almost yelled at him again but stopped myself.  The room had started to spin a little from how quickly I¡¯d stood and how much emotion was boiling.


    I looked back to him and he was still looking at me, not saying anything.  I assumed he was waiting for me to calm down.  A couple deep breaths later, I let the conversation resume.  But when I tried to speak, I found myself still in the throes of anger: ¡°Ok...what do you want to-BASELESS CREATURE!-one second.¡±  I returned to my seat.  The thought of Dran speaking again made me want to punch him in the face.  But I needed him.  Not for him to fix the problem with dad (he was part of the problem that it happened it seemed because he knew and did nothing) but to help me do my own thing in response.  Dran was a tool.  Haha.  I laughed almost but caught it quickly.  He was a ¡®tool¡¯ to use for my own work.  But he would need to say the things he needed to say.  I would need to let him say them.  And nod where I could or needed to.  So I went back to locking down the emotions that Dran had helped escape from their rooms.


    It took maybe a whole full minute, but I came back to myself.  ¡°All right.  What do you want to talk about?¡±


    Dran chose his words carefully.  ¡°It seems to me...that you...are having a hard time...with thinking of your dad as human.¡±


    I tried to think of the words.  They seemed to not mean anything.  ¡°Of course he¡¯s human.¡±  The fact was obvious.


    ¡°Yes, and that means he¡¯s allowed to make mistakes.¡±


    I was in debating mode now.  I would nail his religion to the wall as part of my prize for getting what I wanted at the same time.  ¡°That doesn¡¯t have anything to do with what this is.  What he¡¯s doing is wrong.  And he knows it.  It¡¯s not a mistake.¡±


    ¡°I disagree.¡±


    ¡°And how could you?¡±


    ¡°Because maybe he doesn¡¯t want to do the things he¡¯s doing.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.  He¡¯s doing them.  On purpose.¡±


    Dran shrugged.  It made me slightly angry, because it seemed he wasn¡¯t caring about my pain.  ¡°Maybe he thinks he¡¯s doing them on purpose?  That¡¯s my suggestion.¡±


    The question threw me.  But only slightly.  ¡°I am not here to understand my dad.  I am here¡­¡±  I caught myself.  Needed to be careful.


    ¡°Here to what?¡±


    ¡°I am here to know.  To know what can be done.  We are hurting.¡±


    He didn¡¯t respond immediately and his lips pursed.  I thought for a second that we had reached another stop in yet another argument.  I would go backwards on what I truly believed if it let me catch what I needed from him.  ¡°If you won¡¯t take the things that Ygh says, then you can¡­¡±  It was the first time I¡¯d seen him not have an answer.  He was balancing something.


    ¡°I can what?¡±


    ¡°Within the understanding of Ygh, I could give you a path.  But it is dangerous.  It requires compassion, which I do not think you have.  And it requires purpose, which I know you do have.¡±  He stopped speaking, even though his words begged at something else.  He wanted to say something about me.  It was in the air.


    ¡°But what?¡±


    ¡°You are dangerous, Ty.¡±  He was quiet now.  ¡°You are smart.  And you are dangerous.¡±  After saying this, he recoiled-physically-as if I were a snake he was afraid would strike.  ¡°Knowledge that you might seek would lead to things you might not understand.  And I see into you.  I see things that are powerful.  But also deadly if not used well.¡±


    I sat there, attempting to understand.  His words had struck hard, and I didn¡¯t know what to make of them.  I was used to being invisible, and to have someone speak to me like that was almost like getting slapped and hugged at the same time.  In shock, I thought of what I could get from Dran, besides this, at this moment.  His statement had put me flat and I needed time to recover.  But the time was precious.  I would think about his words later.  What did I need to do, right now?


    ¡°Can I ask you to write down what you just said?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Ty.¡±  Dran started to get up, and then stopped.  ¡°Why do you want it written down?¡±


    ¡°I need to think on it.¡±  And this was the truth.


    He squinted at me.  ¡°I think it would be better¡­¡±  A cock of the head sideways slightly.  ¡°...if you would write it down.¡±


    He didn¡¯t trust me.  I got it.  I wanted the time to think while he wrote it down, but I decided to just do as he asked.  As I recalled the words, I put them to paper: ¡°You¡¯re dangerous...but more than that, you¡¯re smart...you can do a lot...which is very powerful...but also deadly...oh, and think wisely on what you do¡­There was something else you said too...¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­(sigh)...the knowledge you seek is more powerful than you...if you don¡¯t know how to use it.¡±


    I looked at the words.  They made more sense now.  I looked back at Dran.  ¡°You mention the knowledge but you don¡¯t say what it really is.  That isn¡¯t very straightforward.¡±


    ¡°I know.  Because I refuse to tell you.¡±


    ¡°Because I¡¯m dangerous.¡±


    Dran leaned back in his chair, looking very thoughtful.  ¡°I should rephrase.  You¡¯re always going to be dangerous.  But right now, I don¡¯t know what kind of danger you are.  Good dangerous or bad.¡±


    ¡°But dangerous.  No matter what.¡±


    He put his hands up.  ¡°But dangerous no matter what.  I think it¡¯s who you are, Tyth.  And it could be a very good thing or very bad.  And it¡¯s really up to you.¡±


    He seemed quite sad about that.  But it was really only because he thought I was in the wrong.


    The large swing between feelings in the last couple minutes, not counting everything I¡¯d gone through while waiting outside, it was a lot.  I thought to myself that I needed to get so much better at taking notes or keeping a daily journal of what I was experiencing.  To do that...I would need quill and parchment.  We had enough for me to use from what homework mom had once tried to assign to me.  It could be put to better use now.


    Back to the task at hand.  Dran picked up the conversation where it was left off.


    ¡°What will you do, Ty?¡±  He seemed without deceit as he said the words.  I thought hard, not knowing the answer.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure.  I have little that I think I can do.¡±  It seemed that the lie I said in my words went without being seen.  Or maybe Dran just didn¡¯t care or want to let me know he caught the lack of truth.


    ¡°You can pray.  And forgive.¡±  He laid a hand on me, leaning from his chair as the fire crackled.  ¡°But beyond that, you need to stay strong.  This will get better.¡±


    There was the lie.  The thing that allowed this evil to continue.  The way of Ygh that meant Dran didn¡¯t need to do anything about fixing this issue if he wanted to.  Pray.  Forgive.  Stay strong.  That was all passive.  There was no action.


    I would make my own action.


    ¡°Thank you, Dran.  It was good to tell someone.  It helped.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you really came here?  To talk?¡±


    The shift was fast, but I was at least expecting it a bit.  But still, I flinched a little.  ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t come here for any reason other than to talk?¡±


    This was the Dran I knew.  He was studying me.  Trying to figure out what I was up to.  This is what I¡¯d contemplated for the last several hours before even coming to his doorstep.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to deal with what¡¯s been going on in my family.¡±  I looked straight into his eyes, hoping to shut him up with my own pain and honesty.  ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do.  But I knew I needed to hear from you about what your opinion was.¡±  I looked away, now saying the most honest thing I could manage.  ¡°I¡¯m looking for a lot of different people¡¯s take on all this.¡±


    With that I left.  Dran asked no more questions.


    The breeze had brought with it a slight rain it seemed, turning the gentle warm day into a drizzle.  The sudden lack of sun, mixed with the strong emotions inside the house just made the day seem gloomy.  I did not in this moment look forward to the quiet contemplation of the walk back home.  If I didn¡¯t leave for home at this moment, it would be nightfall as I walked back.


    Dad had come into town today as well,knowing to also expect me in town.  He¡¯d given up on outright avoiding the times when I or Nela would be in town.  We couldn¡¯t afford that, not having the shop open on certain days.  ¡°Just don¡¯t visit the shop unless I tell you to.  Don¡¯t want you learning to mix certain potions and get ideas in your head.¡±  A month or two ago, I might not have mis-trusted him when he said those words.


    By now, dad would have closed shop and headed home.  He wouldn¡¯t care when I got home.  In a way, our house had become more ¡°free¡± but also more violent.  Because of his tighter schedule to meet the woman of sin now, most likely, he had gone to being more outraged over little things.  Mom and dad fought even more over religious things, which was almost certainly because Nela was coming into town a lot more.  Mom would almost give up on the idea, but then Nela would scream and throw a fit.  Dad wouldn¡¯t hurt her, and so Nela won those arguments.  It was so bizarre to see how she was unknowingly turning the house upside down in a way.  I regretted some of the lies I¡¯d told her.  But they needed to be for something better.  A righting of wrongs.  For all of us.


    Without knowing it, I¡¯d wandered up to the bookstore and was looking inside.  The warm glow of the candlelight against the gloomy overcast made me want to go in.  It had always smelled of coffee and slight mold.  The smell of books.  That was imprinted on me now.  And I loved the words for what they¡¯d done in so short a time.  Painted worlds I hadn¡¯t known, and gave me words to speak that explained my thoughts and feelings.  As I walked inside, I thought of the idea of ¡°Imprinted¡±.


    I hadn¡¯t known that word a couple weeks ago, But one of the earliest books I¡¯d read was called ¡°Works of the Poet Poul¡±.  It was a strange work that wrote sentences about difficult or unknown words by their emotion or thought, and created paragraphs about what they meant.  ¡°Imprinted¡± had been filed under ¡°impressionable, easy to mold, simple and unformed, mud like, stamped, pressed (as in ironed), left a stain on¡±.  The one that had caught me there (besides the word ¡°impressionable¡± which I did not know) was the phrase ¡°left a stain on¡±.  I¡¯d read everything I could about what it meant to be imprinted and thought deeply about how the word meant something I¡¯d been able to understand, but not express, until just then when I read it.  I was lucky I didn¡¯t tear up The Works of the Poet Poul by how quickly I¡¯d moved through it in the time after that.  Imprinted was a good word.  Coffee and this bookstore had left their stain on me.  An imprint.  A stain in ink dripping onto paper.


    Walking down the isles, I came to the place where ¡°King¡¯s Domain¡± was still resting.  It seemed to not sell very well.  Not a huge surprise, given all the lying that was being done by dad and by Dran.  I mean, I was even doing some lying.  But I hadn¡¯t been caught.  Not that I knew.  And there were probably a bunch more laws I¡¯d seen in the book that were being committed without me knowing or caring to look.  I was focused on this one thing.


    As I stood there, I was considering whether I should ask Gahn about this ¡°King¡¯s Bastion¡±, before I was interrupted.


    ¡°Can I help you, young man?¡±


    The bookstore owner had never, not once, spoken to me.  In all the times I¡¯d been here, I would look around, but not buy anything.  Maybe I would take one or two books off the shelf to look at them, but always when I was sure he wasn¡¯t looking.  And I didn¡¯t stay long.  Then a quick walk out the door with a friendly smile and short wave as I threw a small tip on the counter in front of him.  My way of saying ¡°thank you for letting me look around¡± without actually talking to him.  I couldn¡¯t afford these books and there was deep shame in how badly I needed and wanted them.


    ¡°Are you lost?¡±


    His hands were on his hips.  Having come out of my daydream, I heard the annoyance in his voice.  His eyes weren¡¯t on me either.  They were looking me up and down.  Did I have something on my clothes?


    I was wearing my farm clothes.


    In my stupid lack of thought from the talk with Dran and my daydreaming, I¡¯d forgotten to change.  The owner clearly knew who I was, but he¡¯d never seen me dressed so dirty before.  I had better clothes, nice clothes.  I¡¯d watched the people who came in and out of here before.  I did not look the part of someone who belonged right now.  What could this man be thinking of me?  Would he ban me forever?


    ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    He definitely recognized me.  In a town this small, with only a few hundred people, there weren¡¯t that many people who came here.  But then again...maybe not?  All I knew was that I couldn¡¯t stay here like this, ashamed to be found out for what I was.  I walked towards the door, right past him, while looking at the floor.


    The walk home was cold and dark.  I felt the same inside.

 Chapter 6

    Just as I got to the edge of town, where the lights started to get less bright, a breeze caught me and brought the beginning of rain.  The extra cold made me shiver, and I discovered I¡¯d made a mistake not planning for this.  It was getting to be more and more fall-like.  Cold weather, more moisture in the air.  I tucked into my clothes, best I could, trying to keep warm.  By the second gust of wind I dove into the forest just off the path, hoping to get away from the wind.  Once I caught a breath and sat down, I just started crying.


    The emotions of dealing with Dran.  Of being caught by the bookstore owner.  Of keeping so many secrets from so many people.  The cold had made me feel how truly tired I really was.  It was a heavy tired that was too much.  I screamed, hoping at the same time that the world would hear me, and also that no one would know.  I didn¡¯t want to go home.  I didn¡¯t want to go anywhere.  I thought quickly, would I need to go home.  Darkness was beginning to set and I could make it just before it got dark.  But would anyone miss me?  I missed my bed terribly in this moment.  But as for my family: If they did miss me, I could lie about how long I spent with Dran.  No one would question the time and no one would wait up for me.  Such was our family.  I had freedom to do whatever I wanted tonight.  And what I wanted was someone to care for me.


    I thought of all the people I could go to right now.  Back to Dran.  To Gahn.  To R''osy¡­


    Gahn was the most appealing.  Someone I had come to connect with more than all the others.  In a world of people who seemed to either want to help or not care at all, Gahn seemed to be honest about what he wanted and I could trust him.  He had no mystery in him, just a hardness.  I didn¡¯t question anything about him.  But I doubted his want or ability to care about me and hear my story.


    I almost started the trip back into town.  To sit above his roof and see if he was there.  But I knew in myself that I might not even have the courage to knock on Gahn¡¯s window.  I didn¡¯t know which was worse: believing he wouldn¡¯t care or being right that he wouldn¡¯t.  Gahn was not an option it seemed.


    Thinking of going to Dran was not something I wanted.  He¡¯d made a lot of feelings move around in me that I didn¡¯t like and wasn¡¯t sure I could control.  I thought for a bit about the conversation we had, but the only real memory I¡¯d had of all the words was a general fact that Dran wanted me to love my dad, forgive him, and not do anything about it.  Dran was part of the problem.  The problem that he knew . . . what did he know?  Had I shown my hand?  Panic set in as I thought over what I¡¯d told him.  Had I told him about the woman in sin?  Would he go to dad and tell him?  Would all my work be for nothing?


    I took a deep breath.  Not letting the panic set in.  The breeze along the road returned me and I realized I needed to figure out what I was going to do, here, now.  If nothing else, I needed to head home if I wasn¡¯t going to go somewhere else.  It was the safest bet.  So I got back on the road and thought as I walked home.  The cutting wind was the least of my worries now.


    Dran had prodded me ever since I¡¯d met him, and he was getting very close to knowing something more was up.  I remembered now that I¡¯d only told him of the violence.  And some of my past.  He had told me what he knew of dad, but apparently he¡¯d known none of what had happened to me previously before he arrived in town.  Seemed to make sense.  He only cared about what was affecting his followers.  Wouldn¡¯t care about the past or suffering of people he had no control over.   Still, to let mom, a devout follower suffer like this...the heat in my chest was almost enough to make me stop shivering and go warm all over.  The anger was taking over like a blanket.


    By the time I dug my hands into my pockets out of need for warmth, they were almost too numb to feel the paper, but I did notice the sound of the crunching.  I¡¯d written down what Dran had said to me about being dangerous.  About the ¡°path¡± I could take.  What had he meant by that?  I figured I would need to get home and in bed before I gave that more thought.  Or let it just spin around in my head to give me company.


    The random notion occurred to me that R''osy would probably love to hear all of this.  But I knew that I wouldn¡¯t trust her enough to give these secrets over.  No one I knew of could carry them, at least, not without maybe betraying me.


    Getting home, as I lay in bed, exhausted and cold, warming back up now and growing very tired, I had the happy thought that tomorrow would not be a school day.  This would give me time to reflect.  To pause and think on what had happened with Dran and what next actions I could take.  Darkness took me before I knew it.


    The rage of many weeks and days greeted me kindly the next morning.  The fierce desire to set things right in my family was still giving me the reason to move through my days.  The only other things I could¡¯ve done was cry and give up hope.  The rage was better.


    Planning my day, laying in bed, I decided that doing some light reading would be more helpful, before jumping into deep thought on the words Dran had said.  I had in this time acquired a large amount of both potions and alcohol from dad without his knowledge, and Gahn had traded me for them in exchange for two books: one about places in the world and another that explained the ideas of music and how the songs have evolved.  Both I found intellectually fascinating, but not nearly as interesting as The King¡¯s Domain.  I had found another entry in the King¡¯s Domain as well:


    Law decree: polygamy


    On the matter of multiple partners, not pertaining to domestic *dual-closed relations,


    Those found guilty in the matter of not disclosing their polygamy to a dual-closed relation,


    The king¡¯s justice will be met by means in accordance with the judgment used by the King¡¯s Bastion.


    To Wit, the King¡¯s Bastion will ensure that punishment is made according to what action is performed and how the damage of that action is realized.  The Bastion carries the fullness of the King¡¯s ¡°Mind¡± and all outcomes are given with the same weight as if the King were acting thusly.


    The wording of King¡¯s Bastion was still unknown to me, and the wording was much the same as with the lying decree, where it mentioned what the King Bastion would do...but I still hadn¡¯t found out yet what the thing or person was.  But to ease my mind a little, I had only put an asterisk next to ¡°dual-closed¡± because I knew (or at least had seen and was working on) the other ones.  I could work on that word later, but for now I needed to know what the Bastion was and how I could use it for my purposes.  I felt like I was spinning in circles thinking about it.  Maybe Gahn would tell me, if I asked him directly.  But I¡¯d pushed my luck a little already asking him to get me THIS book.  I didn¡¯t know if I could give him the whole picture.  It was unknown what he¡¯d do with it.  I just had...no one that I trusted.  Someone who would see the evil for what it was and take action.  I was almost there though.  The King¡¯s Domain.  The fact that it existed.  It was my way out, far as I could tell.


    Turning my attention to other books would give me some rest.  Putting the book on places and their histories gave my tired mind the chance to get fresh thoughts.  And after a time, I was ready for the heavy task:


    ¡°You¡¯re dangerous...but more than that, you¡¯re smart...you can do a lot...which is very powerful...but also deadly...oh, and think wisely on what you do.  Also, knowledge I seek is more powerful than me, if I don¡¯t know how to use it.¡±


    Given the time I¡¯d had to think on these words, it seemed almost as if Dran knew what I was up to.  Or that he knew I had more information than what I¡¯d told him.  The ideas ran wild.  The things he could mean by those words.  Did he mean he knew about the woman of sin?  Was it possible that Dran knew about even more things than what I knew?  The thought made me crazy.  What I had found out had sent me down such a dark path that I couldn¡¯t bear to think of all the other things that might be going on.  It wasn¡¯t even worth it now, I figured.  I could go down a bad path of wasted time if I started looking for things in the shadows of my family.  Instead, to the thing that I had in front of me.


    The ¡°knowledge I seek¡± part was very confusing and worrying, for the reasons I had just gone over in my mind.  And without asking Dran more, I would have no idea about the truth of his words.  He was being not helpful, on purpose, because of the other reasons he¡¯d mentioned.  He thought he was protecting me, himself, everyone, because he didn¡¯t trust me.  Could I win his trust somehow?  I gave it a couple minutes of the most honest thinking I could, and came to the same answer: no.  Dran didn¡¯t trust me now, and I would be playing with fire to try and get him to trust me at all.  He would take so many secrets from me in the process, or at least I couldn¡¯t risk that something like that might happen.


    I sighed heavily.  I needed a mentor.  Or someone to trust.  R''osy seemed to really be my only option.  But again I cou-an idea struck me.  I could possibly write letters to Gahn, without telling him who they were from and creating some way of getting him to write letters back to a place I could pick them up.  Could I get help from him without him knowing who was writing to him?  Would he know it was from me?  The idea was a hopeful one, because if done correctly, it would keep me safe.  So the question became: who knew stuff about my family and who didn¡¯t?  How many details could I give about my situation without someone knowing?  Was this kind of thing happening to a lot of families in our town?  If so, I would be hard to find.  If I didn¡¯t know, then this was a risk.  But if I made things super unfamiliar...and then another idea struck me.  Why not write to the shopkeeper?  If I wrote to him, he would be most likely very unfamiliar.  And even if he was, I could make the writing seem childish.  If Nela were blamed, could I lie enough to not be caught?  Would everyone think it was actually me?  They would...because I was the most of our family to be known for writing.  I¡¯d even gotten away with actually reading the Ygh, as a lie to sell my need to see Dran.  So my family, at least, would think I¡¯m the one who wrote the letters.  But if I used R''osy as the lie...yes.  If I wrote as her or someone like her, and made the details of my questions look more like her problem...I would be clean.  R''osy herself might blame me somehow, but no one would believe her, I didn¡¯t think.  It would be the easiest way.


    I¡¯d found an idea that could possibly work.  An idea that would help me out of the hell I¡¯d become aware I was living in.


    The actual working of the plan was very easy.  I took a couple papers here and there for ¡°school¡± and wrote out my questions:


    To the bookstore of I''lochin,


    This letter is for the owner.  I have a question about one of your books.  The King¡¯s Law is a book I recently bought from your store and I need to know what the King¡¯s Bastion is, as I have not found an explanation of the idea anywhere in the book though I have seen the word many times in it.  For secrecy reasons, I cannot tell you who I am, or even talk to you in person.  But to answer my question, please leave an answer by placing one of your chairs outside near the door of your store for a day or two.  This letter is blank on the other side.  Please write your response there and leave the letter tied to the bottom of the chair in a hidden way.  Thank you much for your fast reply.


    It took several attempts to write the letter in the most flowery and lady-like style, but I did it.  The papers I rejected for being not good or making too many mistakes were torn up many times and fed to our pigs amidst their normal meal.


    As for getting the letter to the shopkeep at the bookstore, I came up with another idea that I was very proud of.  Using my network of kid spies, I made it a game to have one of them put the letter near the front of the store behind a book.  It would be found quickly, I imagined.  And if not, they could pretend to find it by accident.  To do this, I gave one of the kids near my size my clothes to borrow.  A coat was borrowed on a rainy day to hide my clothes from too much view, in case the shopkeep knew them to be mine.  And so he received the letter, according to plan.


    To my even greater delight, he left a quick response tied underneath a chair within hours of my letter delivery.  In the dead of night, another kid ¡°spy¡± grabbed the letter and delivered it to me at my house, early while everyone else was still asleep.  The entire thing took two days:


    Dear *patron,


    I *appreciate your request for information about the King¡¯s Bastion.  It is a little known topic and I understand your *hesitance on this *matter.  Please see the following book on the King¡¯s Bastion:


    King¡¯s Domain: History of Bastions


    The answer was so brief and to the point that I almost was mad, except I was glad to have at least another answer to go on.  The question became how to request that book from Gahn.  While I still had the kid with me outside my house, in the early morning I told him to wait as I snuck back into the house and wrote my response:


    Sir,


    I cannot request or get the book you mention.  The reason I will not explain.  Would you be willing to give the book as some kind of trade, and use the means of secrecy that you and I have established to tell me your answer?


    I gave the letter to the little boy and asked him to put the letter back under the chair, just as he found it.  Before he left I stopped him though.  In case the chair is gone, leave the letter behind a book.  Then have another kid find the letter on the shelf by accident.  This was the same way I had done it two days ago, but I had used different kids each time, and I could possibly use the same couple of children if I put in a more permanent way of writing.  So I rewrote the letter to include the following:


    Also please leave your letter under the chair again, and I shall respond in the same way.  If you need or have a better way to keep this secret, let me know.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I sent the child off and waited for a response.  It came over a number of days and after two weeks the following back and forth had occurred:


    My *honored patron,


    If you would simply pay me the money for the book I would give it to you in whatever way you need.


    My response to this was easy, once I thought about it for a bit.  I¡¯d actually already figured out the answer by the time he¡¯d written me back.  Gahn and I had traded money for the chemicals I was stealing from my dad.  When I got the letter asking for money, I sent a letter back with the money, no letter written.  The book ended up being delivered, according to the shopkeeper, as having been placed in a special wrapping near a pile of unused pottery outside of a spy friend¡¯s house down an alley on the other side of I''lochin.  As afraid as I was that the shopkeeper was trying to catch my little helpers, they brought the book to me, no problem.


    King¡¯s Domain: History of Bastions


    The book was not very thick, and the price for it was very low, given how much it meant to me.  I would have been prepared to pay a lot more for it, but I didn¡¯t dare let the shopkeeper know that.  This was the first time I¡¯d bought a book from someone other than Gahn, and the only other book I¡¯d owned was the Yghtl (Dran had given me a free copy).  It was funny, thinking of the Yghtl, compared to this book.  One was a religious book, full of rules.  This...I didn¡¯t know what it was.  The excitement shot through me in the same way it had when I was holding King¡¯s Domain.  Based on the name of this book, it seemed that the History of Bastions was an extra, something that explained more about the Bastions that were given power in the King¡¯s Domain.  The next non-school day I had, I traveled into the woods again, behind our house, and opened its pages slowly:


    King¡¯s Domain: History of Bastions


    On the establishment of those Bastions, who in service to the King, should make the will of said power known, visible to all in the physical realm.  The King does decree that men, who be found to stand in nature according to his will, should carry with them the full power and *agency of his throne.  To carry out the laws and desires of the King¡¯s mind, the Bastions should move throughout the land, at the will of the King, to ensure the people found therein would be made subject to rule.


    In the land of V''alen, Bastion of V''alen, W''illiam


    In the land of L¡¯ort, Bastion of Lort, B¡¯en


    In the land of S¡¯ongel, Bastion of Noril, J¡¯on


    In the land of V¡¯asla, Bastion of Vasla, K¡¯erry


    In the land of P¡¯ino, Bastion of Pino, J¡¯ames


    In the eastern farther lands:


    In the land of Bual, Bastion of Bual, S¡¯arah


    In the land of Bual, Bastion of Bual, T¡¯¡¯itus


    In the land of Bual, Bastion of Bual, Ruqur


    In the land of Bual, Bastion of Bual, Ehxoa


    In the land of Draro, Bastion of Draro, E¡¯dward


    In the land of Draro, Bastion of Draro, Gunly


    In the land of Draro, Bastion of Draro, Tapam


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, P¡¯aul


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, K¡¯risten


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, J¡¯ennifer


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, W¡¯endy


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, Munri


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, Munir


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, Ograt


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, Eralu


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, Terho


    In the land of Garad, Bastion of Garad, Norof


    In the counting of the acts of these men:


    C¡¯aleb, first Bastion, in the land of V''alen, settling the dispute of two chickens owned by five women...


    I read a little further but did not continue.  Much of the rest seemed to be just actions taken in the name of the king so far.  Tapam did this to someone for stealing, or Dorga did that to a murderer.  The book was laid at my side and I became incredibly thoughtful.


    To start, some of these places I had heard of.  Many of the others I had not.  The books I had read before (like the one on geography) had given me the places before, and how far away they were.  Maps and half-filled stories of adventures to far away lands had been set before me as well.  They seemed like dreams.  And not things I was concerned with at this time.  I had work here in I''lochin and my mind needed to be here.  The closest of these Bastions was in V''alen, though.


    And they were men.  The Bastions were not some kind of law or idea.  They were men who took action.  This is what I had maybe thought was true and now it was confirmed.  I would be able to maybe write to this Bastion of V''alen, this W''illiam, and see what he thought of my situation.  Maybe he would come to my aid and set things right.


    The reason for my caution came flooding up.  If I were to do this, it would need to be done in secret.  I could not be found out.  For if my father escaped what was right in his punishment...he would likely kill me.  Or worse...keep me alive and under his rule even harder.  But to know that there was someone more powerful than him, that he would need to answer to.  It put hope in me for the first time.  Books had given me hope, but not like this.  This was more.  It was enduring.  There was finally a way out for our family from the evil of my father¡¯s actions.  I had considered, if I should also get him to be found in breaking the Polygamy rule, but I thought better of it.  I would need to catch him on Lying only, because I couldn¡¯t figure out how to ask my parents about how they viewed their marriage.  If I thought dad could be found against that, all the better.  But I had no way of knowing.  Better to let him be found to be a liar and then if mom should discover that he was also sleeping with someone against her will, even better.


    Again to the caution.  If all of this were to go sideways, I would need to not be found as the one who brought things to the surface where all could see.  I played the future out in my head.  The Bastion coming to town.  Talking to my dad.  Finding him guilty.  Everyone would know.  However my dad would be punished, I would need to find out.  I flipped through the History of Bastions and found some places where liars were either made to pay money or were in some cases thrown into confinement for long periods of time¡­


    An odd thought struck me and I carried the punishment to the extreme: I thought hard on whether my dad deserved death for what he had done - and was still doing.


    No.


    But he did deserve almost everything up to that.  Life in a stockade?  Probably not.  But a couple years?  Definitely.  Nothing less than being thrown out of our family and probably even town was what he deserved.  I would feel safer in the world if I never saw him again.  The idea of his spirit in the house where I slept...it kept me awake unless I slept in the warm blanket of pure rage.  It was calming to hate him back with all of the same measure of meanness he showed to everyone else in his life.


    The emotions were too intense now and I needed a break.  I really just needed to make a trip into town.  Clear my head.  It would help with sorting through if I should even do what I was planning to do.  I felt a slight loss for having no one to truly talk to about this.  I felt alone.  Very alone.  And more than anything my thoughts turned to R''osy.  She had seemed kind.  Very wanting to make sure I was ok.  But it had been my constant experience that people would always fail me.  R''osy would fail me.  If she truly cared for me, she wouldn¡¯t after finding out everything about me, about my family.  About what I was planning to do.  She wouldn¡¯t understand.


    The thought occurred.  Maybe R''osy had her own pain in her life.  Maybe she would understand.  But...the idea hurt me.  To trust someone and expect them to not leave.  A lot of old hurts were coming to the surface and I didn¡¯t know what to do with them besides kill them.  The path forward was clear and wouldn¡¯t make me come undone.  Without getting R''osy involved, I could keep myself intact.  Maybe one day...I would find a way to let myself go to someone who I could trust.  But not now.  Too many things were at stake.


    I wanted a reason to walk into town, but couldn¡¯t immediately think of one.  The walk would let me process things.  Maybe bringing Nela or Bela along would be good for keeping them close to me, emotionally.  Maybe both?  What would we do in town?  Visit R''osy or Dran likely.  Not much else.  But it would be good to be with them for a time.  Besides chores and normal play times on the farm, we didn¡¯t have much time to just talk.  It seemed that roads were great places to talk about the deeper things.  It gave space, while we were on a ¡°journey¡± to somewhere.  I thought there was great power and depth in that idea but I couldn¡¯t really point to how it was.


    In the number of fights the Bastions had been in, they were incredibly gifted and wealthy in the ways they could destroy their enemies.  The stories of Rugur, Eralu, and Tenra were the most interesting, as they appeared near the end, and involved a lot of fights where the three men would need to settle a lot of conflicts in Bual.  That was a town very far to the south east, on the frontier of the Kingdom, and it became very obvious why three different men were needed there.  There were man tales of destroying multiple strongholds, ranging from devils worship, thieves guilds, to wild men who would rape and pillage in and near Bual.  The last chapters of the book were filled with wild tales of battle that sounded very violent in nature and I was now very sure that these Bastions were good at killing and violence, and that they came from very strong backgrounds.  The descriptions of their armor and weapons were filled with a lot of different kinds, so they must have had the ability to buy things they needed or wanted for their tasks.  One of the very famous examples was a task several years ago called The Cold Cleansing, that had been a trip into a very dark place called Rogtoug (I had not been able to find this place written about in the cities or places of the known world), where Munir of Bual and several of his trusted captains (these appeared to be people Munir gave tasks to) went into a town and killed...killed many many people.  The reasons for it were not given too much detail.  But it seemed that a kind of plague had come on the town and it had to be dealt with.  No one survived.


    These Bastions were not to be messed with it seemed, so I was feeling much better about sending a letter to the Bastion of V''alen about my father.  He would not easily escape W''illiam, from what I had read.  For his part, W''illiam appeared very few times, but I believed this was because King M''ark sat in power in Velen.  In a city that size and the capital no less, it would be far less likely to find large amounts of evil.  Most of the stories in W''illiam¡¯s actions were about corruption.  It was a word I had to look up.  I had to go to  Poet Poul to find the meaning and then it made sense.  Corruption, the idea of cheating the King from being so close to his power, it made sense.  People who could get away with things probably would, in my opinion.  That¡¯s what had put my father and my family in this place we now were.  My dad being more powerful and doing what he wanted because no one had come along to stop him.  Until now.  I would bring who I needed to stop him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been talking to some of the other people in town and it seems that there might be a place for you if you want¡­¡±


    Dad¡¯s words came to me like fog.  I was not going to listen to what my dad had to say about anything.  Even though what he was saying was actually of great importance to me.  I had lost all respect for him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.  But lately I¡¯ve been spending a lot of time with Dran and learning the faith.  That seems to be more...my thing.¡±  I winced slightly, trying to show that I didn¡¯t want to hurt his feelings.  Although nothing could be further from the truth.


    ¡°All right.¡±  Dad shrugged his shoulders and bounced from the cart hitting a bump in the road.  ¡°It¡¯s an option for you, if you want it, though.¡±  His ¡®all right¡¯ was a dismissive gesture.  He knew I wasn¡¯t much to him, and he¡¯d done his part in trying to at least offer me something: to show that he cared about me (though the lie was much greater).  I turned my head away, looking to the trees so I could pretend he didn¡¯t exist.  Thinking better of it, I watched my feet, hoping that I could look like I was thinking about his offer.


    Dad had offered me a chance to get some real education, maybe.  A couple he had talked to in town were offering to possibly ¡°tutor¡± me (I asked him what that was).  I didn¡¯t know these people, but my dad seemed to have a very strong relationship with them.  I didn¡¯t know if I wanted the offer.  It could get me into town more...but it would also mean something for dad that I might not be seeing.  Was he playing a game?  I¡¯d made my moves as careful as I could.  I was so close to my goal¡­


    ¡°Well met, good stranger!¡±


    My father slowed the cart to a stop so that he could return the standard reply.  ¡°Well met, indeed!¡±


    ¡°I am headed to V''alen, and wish to ride with you!¡±  This man¡¯s cheerful smile was a little too fake for me, and he seemed to have caught up with our slow moving cart without either me or dad noticing.


    ¡°We are only headed as far as I''lochin.¡±


    The stranger paused for a second as he stared without acknowledgement: ¡°I''lochin...I do not know that town.¡±


    ¡°It lies between here and V''alen.¡±  I answered, not too kindly.


    ¡°Ty.¡±  My dad gestured a hand at me without looking my way, eyes still on the stranger.  ¡°If we were to offer a ride...I would need some manner of payment for the burden you put on my horses.¡±


    ¡°Of course.  Goes without saying.¡±  Though the man did wait half-a-second too long before replying.  It seemed the way of my dad, to never give anything for free.  The man reached into his pocket and produced several low-gold pieces, a half day¡¯s wages.  He almost offered all of it to my father, but then asked: ¡°How far is I''lochin?¡±


    ¡°A couple more hours.¡±


    He put about half of the low-gold into his other hand and offered the smaller portion to my father, silently.


    It took one second longer than would¡¯ve been kind, but dad accepted the offer with a simple nod and took the payment.  ¡°Your name?¡±


    ¡°Gluten.¡±


    I moved closer to dad and the new passenger walked around the cart to sit where I had been.


    Within a mile or two, conversation was struck:


    ¡°So¡­what do you do and what is your name?¡±


    ¡°I am Eneres, the potion maker of I''lochin.¡±


    ¡°And I imagine your son here helps you?¡±


    A slight nod from my father as he kept his eyes on the road.  Silence landed between all of us, while I suspected D''rew was hoping we would respond with conversation too.


    I waited for my father, but then gave the stranger what I thought he wanted, after my dad kept the silence.


    ¡°And what do you do, D''rew?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m an accountant for King M''ark.¡±


    Before he continued, I almost gasped in surprise.  He must¡¯ve caught it.


    ¡°Well...one of many accountants.¡±  He dipped his head slightly in humility.  Maybe he did indeed catch my amazement and surprise.  ¡°I keep an accounting of Garad and its holdings.¡±


    This time I caught my face but still thought: Garad!  That was mentioned in the History of the Bastions!  I can¡¯t let dad know I¡¯ve read it though...


    ¡°I doubt you¡¯ve heard of the place though.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of it.¡±


    My dad¡¯s response almost knocked me over.  I turned slowly to him, trying to not give myself away.  He knew of Garad?  He¡¯d never mentioned it.  In fact, he never talked of anything other than I''lochin.  I decided to play for information and learn what I could.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Garad?¡±  I asked.


    D''rew smiled at me.  ¡°Where is it?  Well, where¡¯s I''lochin?¡±


    I caught the meaning but still waited silently.


    ¡°Not many people know where it is, or that it exists.¡±  His eyes shifted from me to my dad, who was behind my vision, to the left most place on the rolling cart.  ¡°I¡¯m surprised to meet someone who¡¯s heard of it.¡±


    ¡°I only know of it,¡±  My dad explained.  ¡°Because I serve a number of people passing through to V''alen.  I hear news of the world.¡±


    ¡°Ahh.  Well then I¡¯m sorry you¡¯ve heard of Garad then.  You must know how hellish it¡¯s been.¡±


    ¡°The news itself doesn¡¯t concern me.  I just hear it.¡±  I turned to dad to see that he was still looking straight at the road.  It was so rude and yet like him, all the same.  This man who had joined us...the stories he would have.


    It broke my heart to ride in silence the rest of the way.  D''rew, having possibly caught my dad¡¯s personality and roughness, decided it was best to not say anything more or ask questions.  I was missing a huge gift here, to learn more about the world, and maybe even about Bastions, but to do so would say to my dad that I was still the curious child he had come to find me to be.  But I had told him I was now more interested in Ygh.  And in his mind, that was the small outlook on the world.  Faith caused one to go stupid, in his eyes.  And it was a safe lie for me to be in, because he would suspect me less as I set about to trap him.  So to talk to this stranger would be possibly dangerous.  A sigh escaped me.

 Chapter 7

    In town, D''rew departed ways from us without much ceremony or eventfulness.  Seeing him walk into the distance and round a corner out of sight put the nail in the board for me.  The knowledge he had was now sealed from me, like an abandoned building I could not enter.  Looking from the place he disappeared, I saw father¡¯s shop.  It was its own kind of abandoned I guess.  It had people in it, but they were fake.  Both he and I.  I was now almost as false as he was.  But not for long.  I would get free of him.  Free of this place.


    I looked around I''lochin while dad hopped off the cart.  It had changed on me in these couple months.  It was, just a year ago, a place I had always wanted to live or visit as much as possible.  It was ¡°people¡±.  It was a place where I wasn¡¯t alone with my family.  There were people here (I had once thought) who would be more interesting or more caring than my own parents.  Or my sad brother and sister.  But I had found the people here to be just as uncaring.  Stuck.


    Even though it was a sunny day, as I dropped off the cart and headed into the shop, a gloom took over me.


    ¡°Well, if you don¡¯t wish to learn about anything else, I guess I can at least teach you the world of potions.¡±


    I would¡¯ve taken the chance to be anywhere else other than here.


    ¡°And, depending on how Bela does with his masonry, you might need to handle that for him too¡­¡±


    I felt a change in the tension of the air: it hadn¡¯t been there before very much, but now it was definitely there: and increasing.  My father looked at me, and I noticed for some odd reason that he was standing very tall and straight.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been the most gifted out of my children, Ty.¡±  A chilly moment took my spine over and I shivered.  Our eyes were locked.  ¡°I believe you¡¯ll be the one to take care of this family after I¡¯m gone¡­¡±


    And just like that he went back to shelving potions and going about opening the shop.  The moment came and went.  I just stood there for a second.


    ¡°Help me brew this.¡±  His voice came from the back room before I knew he¡¯d left my sight.  I was so wrapped in my own thoughts that I didn¡¯t realize I¡¯d been staring at where he was when he landed that statement on me.  I moved out of the dream-like stupor and went to the other room.


    Dad was standing there, wearing the gloves he always wore, holding several potions that I had seen before, including the Kos that I had been instructed to never touch.  The presence of it scared me immediately, just by being aware of what it was.  ¡°What are you making?¡±


    ¡°Gewd.¡±  His face was the most serious I¡¯d seen it in days.


    ¡°What is that?¡±


    ¡°One of the most expensive potions that can be made.  And the most dangerous.  Once you make this, son, it becomes incredibly easy to make more.  And I mean incredibly easy.¡±  He let the words settle on me.  I took the time to process them.  What we did was a dangerous job and in the right places it paid really well from what I¡¯d heard.  But not in a small place like this I guess.


    ¡°What¡¯s it used for?¡±


    ¡°Trxa is used to remove stains.  This¡­¡± He nodded and motioned to several different potions.  ¡°Will be used to make Gewd.  Which is used for removing people.¡±


    It didn¡¯t make sense for several moments as I looked over the ingredients.  ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The things inside our bodies are nasty things.  And in high dense cities, getting rid of bodies is expensive.  Unless you have Gewd.  It can be used to remove a body.  Or a lot of bodies.  Once you make Gewd...you can make more of it.  Easily.  And it¡¯s dangerous.  It is the most dangerous thing we make.  Trxa will make someone go mad if they drink it.  And Trxa can make massive burns if used incorrectly.¡±  I¡¯d heard all of this before.  But then he got to the good part.  ¡°Gewd, on the other hand, will make someone go blind and deaf just by being around it.  Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Repeat it back to me.¡±  The seriousness in his voice frightened me.  And I knew that it should.


    ¡°Gewd will remove people.  And if you¡¯re around it, you will go blind and deaf.¡±


    ¡°Good.  You understand.¡±


    ¡°I have several questions.¡±


    ¡°You should.  What are they?¡±


    This was the small part of my life with my dad that I enjoyed.  I had learned and was continuing to learn a way of earning money from him.


    ¡°One.  How do you make more so easily?  Two.  How do you make it without going deaf or blind?  And three . . . I forgot but I know it was important.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll rememb-¡±


    ¡°Three.  What do you mean it removes people?  How exactly?¡±


    My dad looked at me without a word.  I¡¯d interrupted him.


    ¡°Sorry, dad.¡±


    He let me suffer in the quiet for a bit before answering my questions in no particular order.


    ¡°It¡¯s used to remove bodies by ¡®eating them¡¯.  I have no other word for it.  Bodies that enter a bucket of Gewd will simply disappear.  And for the other question, Gewd interacts with water in a strange way.  It seems to grow stronger the more you add water to it.  To a point.  But anywhere from a bucket to a lake of the stuff seems to be strong enough to do the job.  And be just as dangerous without going into it.¡±


    ¡°How much does it take to remove its potency then?  And what can be done to remove it then?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re asking too many questions, too soon.  Let me teach: I have learned that water, with enough salt, can neutralize it.  But it took a year or so as the Gewd sat in the salt water before it stopped ¡®working¡¯.  And so when you make Gewd, you must take great care not to make more.  It needs to sit for a very long time, and in a small quantity so it can be destroyed.¡±


    ¡°What about more water than a lake?  Would that remove its effect?¡±


    ¡°That is a foolish question, but I know that you¡¯re curious.  No one has tried.  What I heard was that the lake was abandoned.  No one went near it for a very long time.  And I don¡¯t know where that lake was.¡±


    ¡°And how did you learn all this?¡±  I asked the question but then, now that I thought about it, I knew the answer.


    ¡°From my father, and his father before him.¡±


    ¡°Family business.   Passed down by generations.¡±  I allowed myself a small smile and got one in return.  It was the motto on the front door.


    ¡°So...how much would you need to smell or taste before you go blind?  Wouldn¡¯t you die from it first?¡±


    ¡°That information I don¡¯t have.  I just learned that the greatest step to making Gewd is that when you add the third to last chemical, you want to have the other two ready.  Because within an hour it will begin to set.  And it needs to be in whatever place you want it.  Bodies should be placed wherever they need to be when it becomes ready.  And we¡¯ve been incredibly careful to handle it well.  No one in our family has ever had to deal with the problem of deafness or blindness.¡±  He pointed a finger at me.  ¡°Don¡¯t be the first.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    Because my curiosity had been stoked from learning about Gewd, I was excited when I left the shop at the end of the night with dad.  My brain, now filled with rapid questions, was spinning with ideas and thoughts.  Gewd was a new thing.  A tool that could...a question was there.  I asked it: ¡°Who do you sell Gewd to?¡±


    ¡°Morticians.¡±


    ¡°What are they?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re the ones who dispose of bodies.¡±


    ¡°Huh.  Makes sense...and how do you know they would dispose of it properly?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s in their best interest.¡±  Dad¡¯s answer was so matter of fact that I couldn¡¯t question.  It made perfect sense.


    I thought of my father on this ride back home, but didn¡¯t look at him.  I didn¡¯t want him to know that my thoughts were towards him.  It might give away what was really happening inside me.  But I wanted to think.  To think on who he was.  Who he was to me.  How I would respond.  I was holding so large a secret, and it was because of the man sitting next to me.  It felt so odd.  I could speak, in this silence, and remove all of the secret.  Remove all the power I had.


    But so could he.


    At this moment, I knew I was capable of doing this the whole time, but I had just now become aware of it.  It was odd.  And if I decided to ignore this moment, by distracting myself with something else, the moment would pass.  It was all moments in my life that were like this.


    Looking up at the stars I felt even more odd.  The world was passing, every moment, and we were just...living our lives?  I felt strange.  Like I was looking outside myself, watching the cart pass by.  Myself riding alongside my dad.  We were living our lives¡­


    Why was my dad so silent?  Why was he hiding his sin?  Thoughts of Dran¡¯s words crept up and I shoved them down.  It would be the wrong time to go deep into thought.  It would be difficult to hide myself from dad if I came undone.  That room: where all the emotion was...I had it locked.  I dare not enter.  If I did, and I couldn¡¯t lock it back down in time, dad would maybe catch it.  I would lose all of the little control I did have.  And it was the last thing I wanted.


    There was the thing.  He had done this.  He was to blame.  And because our family was where we were...this was all his fault.  He was at fault for how we had gotten here.  And it followed that without someone dealing with him, the issue would continue.  We would still be abused.  We would still be lied to.  Another thought struck me then.  Dad hadn¡¯t been so violent to me in the last few weeks.  He had been his usual self to Bela though¡­I could not figure out the reason of that and it bothered me.


    I had no answer by the time we got home and I went to sleep that night, very frustrated.  It was time for action.


    In the morning, I decided that I¡¯d had enough.  Meeting D''rew, and being unable to know more of the world.  Talking to Dran and learning that secrets were known and kept outside our family.  Lying to Nela.  Having to keep R''osy off my back.  I was tired.  I wanted out.  And I felt like I was ready to destroy whatever it took to free myself.  I didn¡¯t know how mom did it.  How she was capable of living like this.  Being ok with all of these sins.


    To the Bastion of V''alen, W''illiam.  Eneres, the potion maker of I''lochin is guilty of the sin of lying to his community, because of polygamy with Tesim, the seamstress, without telling anyone.


    Writing her name made me angry, but I knew I had to do it.  It was time to end all of this.  I stared at the letter, my arms folded.  It was way too simple.  It didn¡¯t tell all of the things that were wrong.  All the hurt.  The pain.  But it would be enough.  ¡­.Maybe.  I considered how I would send it, but then I thought of D''rew.  It was too good of a thing.  His timing.  It made me nervous.  If I could find him, he would be one of the easiest ways to get my message to W''illiam.  But was there risk in that?  To have someone see my face.  I bit my lip while thinking.  The letter would keep me in the shadows, an unknown.  I could be anyone.  And I could use the shop owner maybe, but would he know how to move the letter?  Gahn would.  But he couldn¡¯t be trusted.  None of this could be traced back to me.  So...the shop owner then?


    *


    ¡°So the third tenant, Ty?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the denial of self for the good of others.¡±


    ¡°And how does it play itself out?¡±


    The hills glistened with green and the bright blue sky almost hurt my eyes.  We¡¯d gone on a hike for a change of scenery.  Had to give it to Dran.  He knew some pretty great spots of nature.


    ¡°We must determine what will do the most good for the most people.  Even if that means not getting what we want.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make it so hypothetical, Ty.¡±


    ¡°Fine.  If I have food that will keep me alive¡­¡±  I had said the thought before thinking it through.  A second of pause while hoping to think of a good way to apply it.  ¡°But there¡¯s a king or mediker who would die without my food then I should give it to them.  They can help more than I can.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thought.  But think it through more fully.  If you die, then what happens?  What do you offer to the community?¡±


    The thought of Gewd hit me immediately.  I¡¯d become obsessed with how lethal it was.  And now I thought of my work in a new light.  It wasn¡¯t all niceties.  It had a very real role in the world.  What would a city piled in bodies look like without Gewd to take care of them?


    ¡°People would suffer without the potions we make.¡±  I was honest in that statement.  ¡°In the potions that my family makes.¡±


    ¡°Correct.  So if you die, then people suffer as well.  There¡¯s a balance to it.  You can¡¯t always make decisions that are so simple.  In fact, few decisions are that simple.¡±  Dran seemed to have some kind of meaning behind that, but I could only guess at what it was.


    For my own turn, I was thinking of my part to play in my family.  Was I denying my own good so that dad could be removed from power?  Was this for me?  Or was it for others?  Maybe both?  I wanted to ask that question out loud, but I couldn¡¯t.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Now, for a much more immediate and practical approach: we can apply Locksmithing1 to things that have to do with our own desires.¡±


    ¡°Locksmithing?¡±


    ¡°Yes.  It is the process of releasing ourselves from things that bind us to ourselves.  To deny us ourselves so that we may serve others.¡±


    The concept was new.  And foreign.  And I didn¡¯t see how it could help me in any way.  But Dran had held it over my head - without saying it - that if I wanted to keep coming into town without my father¡¯s eye on me, I would need to suffer through his teachings every once in a while.  Luckily this was one of the few that he¡¯d made me endure since deciding to act the lie.


    ¡°So how does this ¡®locksmithing¡¯ work?¡±


    ¡°I appreciate the question, and its lack of sarcasm.  It¡¯s a process of stages.  The best way I know of how to begin is through how I¡¯ve been taught.¡±  As we approached a spot by a lake, he sat down and pulled out a small stack of papers that were bound by twine.  I sat near him.  The papers seemed like they¡¯d not had much use.  Catching my curious gaze, he almost seemed to read my mind.  ¡°They haven¡¯t seen much use.  It¡¯s one of the older practices that we¡¯ve learned in service to Ygh.¡±  There could¡¯ve been sadness in his voice, but it was too little for me to be sure.  ¡°The purpose of this, as I¡¯ve said, is to identify and release locks.  But not locks that are in physical form.¡±


    He paused.  I picked up on the queue, though I was grumpy to do so.  Call and response was beneath people who could answer questions that had a pre-written answer.  ¡°What kind of locks are you dealing with then?¡±


    ¡°Everything that is not physical.  And by that I mean the mental, the emotional, and even the spiritual.  Really this is about all the things about us that are unseen.¡±  This I didn¡¯t put too much stock in but he kept going.  ¡°Really, a lock is just another word for sin.¡±


    He stopped here from reading and looked up at the sky for a moment.  A heavy sigh, and then he looked at me.  ¡°Do you know what sin is, Ty?¡±


    I started to open my mouth.


    ¡°No.  I take that back.  What do you think sin is?¡±


    That took me back for a bit.  It must have been a trick question.  ¡°Is it more than the normal stuff?  The killing and¡­¡±  I almost said lying.  ¡°...And other stuff?¡±


    ¡°Very astute¡± - I didn¡¯t know that word but didn¡¯t want to interrupt - ¡°it is more.  Actually much more.  People go about their lives, sinning or being in sin, or even having sin occur around them, every day.  Without knowing it.¡±  A slight chuckle from him.  ¡°And in a way, it¡¯s a sin not to know it.  Hmm.  But really, yes it is the nasty stuff.  But really there¡¯s so many other things that are harder to detect than killing or stealing or lying...or whatever.  These are the things that can lead to those things.  Or maybe they don¡¯t.  But they¡¯re there all the same.¡±  He stopped the rambling.  ¡°Can you think of anything that wouldn¡¯t be your ¡®classic¡¯ sin?¡±


    This did cause me to think hard.  There must have been something that would be an answer to his question.  Unless he was completely making this up.  But I didn¡¯t think he would torture me in that way, just for fun.  He did seem, in a way, genuine.  I decided to give up.  I had no game to play with him right now.  ¡°No, I can¡¯t think of anything.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s ok, Ty.  It would take you a long time and you might not even have an answer.  I for sure didn¡¯t.  Not many people would, I imagine.  It took some very bright people with deep insight to unlock these answers, and to guide us into the conversation that we¡¯re now having.¡±  A large smile suddenly appeared on his face and his eyes almost glowed.  ¡°Do you realize that we are learning from truly gifted people here?  Thinkers of their age!  Who have passed down their knowledge through writing.  Without this book,¡±  He bounced it slightly in his hands, very delicately, almost like he was holding a baby.  ¡°You and I might never know what we¡¯re about to learn.  Doesn¡¯t that strike you as fascinating?¡±


    ¡°What does fascinating mean?¡±


    ¡°As something very wonderful.¡±


    ¡°Fascinating...Yes.  I think it is, though I think it is also actually kind of odd in a way.¡±


    ¡°Odd?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.  It¡¯s an odd thought.  That we would learn from people who are dead.¡±


    I seemed to have disappointed him, but he recovered quickly.  ¡°Yes.  It is odd if you think of it that way.  But it¡¯s also wonderful.  To have so many great thoughts at your fingertips.¡±


    Something in the way he put the words together lit a fire in me.  I remembered all the books I¡¯d been reading and something made sense all of a sudden.  The words, they were things that gave me a voice to what I felt or thought.  The Poet Poul.  He was like what Dran was talking about.  But once again, I was afraid to let on what I knew.  The time was not right.  After my father paid.  But before then I would not let on anything that I didn¡¯t have to.  ¡°You know, Dran.¡±  My voice was softer than I¡¯d expected it to come out.  ¡°I do think I know what you mean now.¡±


    His voice was also soft in response.  ¡°I¡¯m glad.¡±


    There was something that sat in that time between us, where the silence lied.  It was almost like a friendship or understanding.  And I actually for once felt something like niceness towards him.


    The moment died seconds later when he went back to his lesson.


    ¡°The idea of sin is what you said.  But it¡¯s more.  There are at least two other things that we know of that are sin in people: the first is the idea of ¡®withoutness¡¯.  And the second one is the lack of doing anything about the first two.  But I will take these one at a time.  For ¡®withoutness¡¯: can you tell me what you think that could mean?¡±


    ¡°Sin as ¡®withoutness¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Hmm...would this be like, being without yourself in some way?¡±


    ¡°Not quite.  Though it would almost be close if you knew a deep meaning of withoutness.¡±


    ¡°Then I suppose I am confused.¡±


    ¡°Which is quite alright, Ty.  It¡¯s a very complex thought.  But it makes more sense when I explain it.  And I only ask you so that I can see where you¡¯re at in your understanding of things.¡±  Like I would tell you, truly.  I thought in response as he continued, ¡°The idea of withoutness can be explained like this: if someone broke into your house and took one of your chairs, you would be without the chair, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±  I answered quickly, still expecting the trick question.


    ¡°Well, the thief has done a classic sin.  Stealing.  But also you are now ¡®without¡¯ your chair.  You have ¡®sin¡¯ of ¡®no chair¡¯ in your life.  Is that not true?¡±


    ¡°Yes...though it is not my fault the chair was taken.¡±


    ¡°No.  It¡¯s not.  But still the thing remains.  There is sin in your life that you must now deal with.  Right?¡±


    It felt like he was being way too simple, but now I was interested.  ¡°Right.  The sin is ¡®in¡¯ my life...I must deal with it in some way.¡±


    ¡°And you could do many different things with that.  You could hurt the thief.  You could take your chair back.  You could forgive him.  You could get depressed and kill yourself.  But no matter what you decide to do, it is in response to the sin.¡±


    ¡°Ok¡­¡±


    ¡°Well.  This is the thing we get to.  How to deal with that sin.  What is the way to approach it?  You could treat this in much the same way that Ygh treats us to deal with our sin.¡±


    The lessons learned from years ago, that mother used to tell.  Those all came flooding back, but in the dirty water of time forgotten and not cared for.  I remembered stories of people who did good.  Those who did bad.  Those who took care to ask forgiveness of their bad deeds and live a good life instead.  Those who didn¡¯t.  What happened to each.  Justice.  And my need for justice against my dad was in some way given to me by my mother.  There was something to that.  It would be good to think over one day¡­


    ¡°What are you thinking about, Ty?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m remembering the Yghtl stories.¡±  It was an honest and true thing to say.  And it had to do with the thing we were talking about.  ¡°We deal with sin either in the right way or the wrong.  As the Ygh teaches.¡±  I was lost in thought, quoting my mom when I said this.  And so I looked to Dran with some humility and apologized, ¡°but you know that I put little stock in Ygh nowadays.¡±


    ¡°But do you still put stock in the truth behind sin and its corruption?¡±  He leveled his head at me, expecting the right answer.


    To that I couldn¡¯t argue.  ¡°Yes.  Justice and the ways of sin¡¯s corruption are obvious to anyone.  Only a madman would say that sin is good.¡±  Is my father a madman?


    ¡°Correct.  And dealing with ¡®withoutness¡¯ is in much the same way.¡±  He snapped me back to the lesson with the word ¡®withoutness¡¯.  I¡¯d been lost in my own life for a minute.  It was good to be back out myself, to be here, even if the lesson itself might end up boring and worthless.  ¡°The correct answer to the thief is to go back to the third tenant.¡±


    He waited again.  Expecting me to repeat it.  I could have slapped him in annoyance.  ¡°The denial of self for the good of others.¡±  The answer came with no emotion and I stared at him, trying to stab him with my boredom and hatred of the simple call-response he wanted.  I was not one of his simple followers.


    ¡°Exactly.¡±  He went back to the book.  Either uncaring of my anger or unaware.  ¡°To answer the thief who takes your chair you must ask: what is the greatest good?  Is it forgiveness?  Is it to punish him?¡±


    ¡°I feel like that answer would be obvious: it is to get my chair back and make the thief pay.¡±


    ¡°But the deeper question, Ty.  Why did the thief take it?¡±


    ¡°That is not my concern.¡±


    Dran became much more animated.  He pointed a finger at me for a second as he talked.  ¡°But it should be.  You should be asking, what compelled him?  What did he need it for?  If we punish him, will he do it again?  What if...what if he needed the chair more than you?¡±


    He paused, and this time I didn¡¯t know if he was waiting for an answer.  But it felt like it.  ¡°The answer is unknowable.¡±


    ¡°Ahh.  But it¡¯s not.  And this.  This is where the power of Ygh comes into play.¡±


    This I didn¡¯t understand and could not help myself but jump on his thoughts.  ¡°What do you mean?¡±  He had me interested in the conversation now.


    ¡°Go back to the third tenant.¡±  This time Dran didn¡¯t wait for me to repeat it.  ¡°The denial of self for the good of others.  If it is at all possible that you might understand the thieves¡¯ intentions, then you might understand the reason why he took it.  And if you understand the reason, you might be able to convince him to not do it in the future.  And if he doesn¡¯t do it in the future, that¡¯s one less thief in the world.  And ¡®the denial of self for the good of others¡¯ means to try and get there to be less thieves¡¯ in the world so that we all might suffer less.  Not just you.  And you should not be concerned so much with getting your chair back if it means you can help not only the thief, but also others.¡±


    The words had washed over me until I was drowning in thought.  I was trying to make sense of it all.  But Dran had been talking too fast and had gotten too animated.  I became frustrated and went back to my original point.  ¡°But the reason for why the thief stole is unknowable.¡±


    A weird sort of sad smile came over Dran¡¯s face.  ¡°Says who?¡±


    ¡°Well...everyone¡­that¡¯s the way it works.  Things happen.  And sometimes it¡¯s unknowable why they happen.¡±


    Dran took the time to look at me.  He blinked several times and then leaned in at me, his fingers clumped together and the index fingers pointing at me.  He was coming in for a statement of some kind.  ¡°Have you asked the thief why he did it?¡±


    I squinted at him.  ¡°No.¡±  I leaned my head sideways.  ¡°Why would I?¡±


    ¡°Because he might tell you the reason behind his actions.¡±


    ¡°But he wouldn¡¯t.  He¡¯s a thief.¡±


    It was Dran¡¯s turn to match my body movement.  ¡°Who told you he wouldn¡¯t?¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°Everyone.  It¡¯s the way of the world.¡±


    ¡°You assume.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°And there you have the trap.  You don¡¯t ask because you expect not to be told.¡±  He came out of his attacking posture.  ¡°And this is why the world continues to behave like it does.  When you expect a certain outcome, you have determined that outcome and that outcome almost always becomes the reality.  Because you make it so.  You expect to not understand the thief.  And the thief expects to not be understood.  Was he stealing because he needed to sell the chair and feed his family?  Was he going to burn it to keep warm for the night?  Was he greedy?  Is he someone beyond saving?  We do not know.  We only assume.¡±  And with this he stopped talking.


    I looked out over the lake and tried to put it all together.  Oddly enough, R''osy came into my mind.  She was always doing the thing that Dran was talking about.  Asking questions.  Trying to dig.  Especially into my life it seemed.  But I didn¡¯t want her in my life.  She would only make things worse.  But she was a lot like what Dran was talking about.  Was she aware of Ygh?  Could I ask Dran that question?  I thought.  What would happen if I did.  Would I be found out in any way as to my secret plans?  I looked at him.  He was also looking out over the lake, away from me, and not paying me any attention.  Probably expecting me to think over his words.  And so I was.  I played out for a minute whether my friendship with R''osy was known to Dran.  He would know I went to Uncle Nelg¡¯s shop often.  It was a family business.  My curiosity might seem natural...and I couldn¡¯t think of any way it would backfire.


    ¡°Is R''osy part of Ygh?¡±


    Dran turned to me and then looked over the lake for a second, thinking.  ¡°Not that I know of.  And her family isn¡¯t either.¡±  So he knew of her at least.  ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°She acts in the way that you describe.  Always asking questions.  Wanting to know things about people.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s a smart young lady.  And the odd thing is, you will find people who act the part of the faith but do not serve the Ygh.  It is because we all carry pieces of the Ygh inside us.  Even if we do not understand.  It remains dormant.  Like a volcano that has been buried, waiting to surface.¡±  His words trailed off at the end as he watched a bird of some kind take off from the lake.  ¡°But for R''osy, it is because she belongs to Ygh.  We all do.  She carries in her part of what we talk of here.  And if she were to join the Yghtl, she would grow in it.  And Ty, though you do not share the faith, you also grow as we have these talks.  But for you the process is much more serious.  You know much more.  You have become ¡®aware¡¯.  As you face decisions you have no choice but to grow.  But you can grow more into the Yghtl or you can grow farther away.  Like this lake: you have no choice but to expand or shrink.  To stay the same is impossible.  Nature and the way of the world will not allow it.¡±


    Though his words were meaningful, my thoughts were still on R''osy.  ¡°And what of R''osy?¡±


    ¡°She grows too.  Closer or farther.  But maybe not as dramatic as you, I think.  You are closer to a furnace.  And as you go in you burn.  And what burns away is either the bad (like when gold is purified) or the whole of it is destroyed.  And the choice is up to you.  The bad must come out of you one way or another.  And if you get destroyed in the process, it is your decision.¡±


    ¡°That makes no sense.¡±


    ¡°The laws of the spirit do not follow how we understand the laws of this world.¡±


    ¡°Then how did you come by this knowledge?¡±


    ¡°It was told to me by those who came before.  In a time when the world looked different than it does now.¡±


    ¡°And you believe them?¡±


    ¡°I do.  Because it makes sense to believe them.  These things we speak of...they are the deeper truths of the world.  They sit behind what we can see and touch.  We would be lost without understanding that there is something beyond.  And we would still be lost unless we knew how to interact with that other side.  The Ygh is the faith that shows us the path.¡±


    I began to think over the conversation we¡¯d just had.  I thought in reverse: first of R''osy.  She was not on the edge that I was.  That I could agree with.  She didn¡¯t have the problems in her life that I was dealing with.


    I paused.  Was she?  What if R''osy was like the thief.  Stealing ideas and thoughts and information from me because she was needing to help herself.  Was she only doing it because she was a brat from a high-born family in I''lochin?  I had to find within myself after a moment, to understand that I hated her just because she was pretty and from a good family.  She had things I didn¡¯t.  And I was envious.  She didn¡¯t deserve those things.  I did.  She didn¡¯t have to go through the problems I¡¯ve gone through.  She didn¡¯t earn all of the wealth and beauty she had.  She had no right to be interested in someone like me.  I was no one.  From a poor family.  I was not handsome in the normal sense.  My family was made up of abusers, simple people (like Bela), and until just today, I had considered us part of a very low job status in the area.  We were liked, sure.  But no one invited us over for lunch.  Only the Yghtl invited us, and only because it invited everyone.


    I found myself growing angry, but not ready to cry.  It was an old fight I¡¯d had with myself many times.  The argument over how the world was unjust and I needed to get away from the evil in my family.  I would do anything to get away.  And I found myself growing tired, walking through the same well-walked dirt roads of my mind, where the dead end was my own suffering.


    And there it was.  I would not try to understand the thief.  Not this time.  My dad had stolen the goodness of our family.  He was the reason we were outcast from our family.  He was the one that needed to pay.  I did not care for the reason he did what he did.  I only cared about what he had done to me.  I would make him pay.  If I didn¡¯t, we would never find peace.  But here and now, I would lie to Dran.


    ¡°You¡¯re talking about some deep things.  And understanding people seems like something that would make the world a better place.  It¡¯s worth considering.¡±  After saying this, it was determined that it might be better to go farther, making sure he didn¡¯t think I was just writing him off.  ¡°And for R''osy, I think it might be good if I got to know the ¡®why¡¯ of her actions.¡±


    ¡°A worthy endeavor.¡±


    I asked him to explain the word ¡®endeavor¡¯ and the conversation jumped to other topics until we made our way back into town.

 Chapter 8

    From The Office of Bastion of V''alen, W''illiam


    The report of lying in the town of I''lochin is a trivial affair.  Even so, expect my dispatch to arrive within the fortnite.  Look to a man named A''rthur.  He will act in my stead to uncover the truth of this accusation.


    As for this unusual means of communication:  It is usual that we deal with accusations by having the Accuser make the matter known in person or at least to attach a name so that they may be identified.  Please meet A''rthur when he arrives in I''lochin and make yourself known as the one who has summoned him.  He will be staying at the town mayor¡¯s, with whoever its current caretaker is.  Please make arrangements that A''rthur will be able to meet with you the very same day he arrives.  Failure to do so will result in a penalty.


    I read the letter from the safety of the woods on the edge of our farm.  News of the accusation against my father was now underway and I had set into motion things that I would no longer be able to stop.  The secret was out.  I had told someone.


    I had mixed feelings.  I was terrified of being found out as the one who told.  If for some reason my father did not get punished for his sin (at least the lying) and removed from our family outright, he would continue to be the monster, if not worse.  And I would live in constant fear that I would be found out.  Who would save me from him if he ever knew what I had now done?


    The fear gripped me as I held the letter, staring out over the field, from the safety of the forest.  The farmhouse on the other side of the rolling hills, only a couple acres away, and still well within sight, was now a prison to me.  I would be trapped in those walls as my father learned that someone had ¡®betrayed¡¯ him.  I would need to play a lie until the day he would be brought to the King¡¯s Justice (hopefully).  And if that day should never come...I would hope that by other means I could remove him.  Or maybe I would have to run away.


    As I looked at the farm house, it took on a new light.  It was now something unknown to me.  I looked at it as if I¡¯d never seen it before.  As if it was not my home.  As if I didn¡¯t belong there.  Would never be able to step foot inside.  What if I were to now be cast out, this very moment?  I had no possessions on me at the moment.  I would need to start planning, today, to always be ready to run if needed.  To live outside of I''lochin.


    Even though today was a sunny day and my belly was full, I felt anxious.  What about where to sleep?  About what to eat?  I would always need to have those two things cared for.  Sleeping seemed to be the easier thing...I could pretty likely be safe in a large city like V''alen.  But the food.  I would need to maybe start saving up the potions and alcohol I¡¯d hidden.  I would need to stop drinking my own supply on bad days.  If needed I would steal the more expensive things from father before I left.  Maybe some Gewd.  It would be very dangerous to walk around with in a final state.  But if necessary, I could maybe sell it or learn how to make it on my own?  That was something I needed to give more thought.


    But the letter itself gave me mixed feelings.  It was nice to be holding something that was concrete.  Action was being taken.  But the Bastion himself was not coming.  This concerned me.  Would this man named ¡°A''rthur¡± be enough to deal with my dad and remove him from our town?  How would I go about meeting him?  Would I?  I decided that no, I would not.  It was too much a risk.  If anything, I would see what happened.  If news got to Dran that someone was after my dad, then I could see how that played out.  The last thing I could do is let myself be known.


    *


    ¡°Dran, I was curious about the conversation we had at the lake.¡±


    He stood at his doorstep, slightly surprised.  I usually didn¡¯t do more than check with him each time I was in town.  To ask for anything to do with his religion would be unusual for me.  But luckily, we had developed a little bit of a working relationship over the last few weeks, from the small conversations we¡¯d had.  He stood there for a moment, taking me in, and I wondered if maybe A''rthur had reached I''lochin yet.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you come in?¡±


    As I walked in, the strange thought hit me that I could be walking into a trap.  If someone came into town and showed someone the letter...Dran might be one of the people who would suspect or figure out it was me.  He was not a dumb person.  Brief panic shot through me as I tried to remember if I¡¯d written the letters in my own style of lettering.  Would it be easy for someone to recognize the spidery way I wrote?  But then I did remember.  I had painfully taken the time to write in a standard format that could be matched by anyone.  There would be no way to trace it back to me.


    ¡°Can I offer you anything, Ty?¡±


    This meeting would be short, and only to learn if he¡¯d met with anyone yet.  ¡°No thank you.  I don¡¯t plan to stay long.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±  He turned from the wooden cabinet that held his bowls and cups and walked to the fireplace, which thankfully was already going.  My shoes had gotten slightly soggy on the walk into town.  ¡°But you had some kind of question, yes?¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­how would you believe someone if they told you the reason for why they did something?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a great question.  And I suppose it¡¯s something you take on faith.  You would have no way of knowing they were lying to you.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°But you know, there¡¯s more to it than that.  Your attempt to understand the other person is actually more about you.¡±


    ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    ¡°The process you go through, by taking what the person has done to you and moving them away from their actions, gives you the ability to not judge them or need them to do anything for you to be ok with what happened.¡±


    ¡°But...they need judgment.¡±


    ¡°For sure.  Judgment comes for everyone, in one way or another.  But beyond that.  The deeper thing.  You can then be ok with what happened.  You need nothing from them in return to make amends.  You have freed yourself from them.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I understand you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a process, and it involves many things.  But locksmithing...remember?...identifying that thing that hurt you.  That sin.  You can remove it from yourself.  Because I say this, it definitely hurts you.  And it stays with you until you decide it doesn¡¯t.  Sin is like mud.  When it touches you, you decide it stays on you until you remove it.  By it being there, it doesn¡¯t get removed until you do something about it being there.  And some people think that ¡®mud¡¯ isn¡¯t there, or that it doesn¡¯t affect them.  But it does dirty you if you decide to do nothing about it.  Or if you¡¯re just not aware it exists.¡±


    ¡°Ok¡­¡±  I wasn¡¯t sure I understood fully but I could tell he was getting to a point.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s easier if I show you.  We didn¡¯t get to it the other day, but I can show you now if you have the time.¡±


    I thought about the good and bad of leaving now.  I had come to learn if I had been found out.  So far, no, I hadn¡¯t.  But I had come with a lie.  I wanted to know more about locksmithing, or so Dran thought, apparently.  And to really make sure he didn¡¯t suspect me, it would do good to stay here, even if I wasn¡¯t really into the whole thing.  ¡°Sure.¡±  I said this with a shrug as I sat down across from him.


    ¡°Now, to begin, I must grab some letters.¡±  He stood up just a second after I¡¯d sat down across from him.  ¡°I mean the letters we were working from at the lake.¡±


    As he hurried off into a side room, I was left with the fire and my thoughts.


    Being in this space, here and now, I could tell that the moment was rare.  Dran did not know that someone was on their way from V''alen, now.  And he did not know that I was the one that was responsible for that happening.  I had so many secrets and now this was another.  I was hoping to protect that secret and make sure I would not be suspected on the day that A''rthur arrived and told Dran his purpose.  If I could find ways to make Dran trust me more, I would need to act upon them.  Maybe committing to this whole ¡°locksmithing¡± process he was on about would put me farther into his trust.  It would be worth a shot¡­


    Dran returned with the parchments a couple minutes later, and I asked him for water.  I¡¯d stayed longer than I¡¯d meant to.  My initial question ¡®how would you know if someone was lying¡¯ was an easy question.  Would it warrant the trip to his house for something so simple?  Would he question my motive?  But no, I needed to see him anyway while in town by myself.  This was just something new.  The question was a ¡®by the way¡¯ kind of thing.  He would not suspect me.


    ¡°So...there¡¯s a very lengthy process to all of this.¡±  He stopped shuffling papers for a second to look up at me for a second.  ¡°But we don¡¯t have to get very far into it.  I just want to introduce you to the ideas of how to do it, and then we go as far as YOU are willing.  You can stop at any time.¡±


    I moved a little in my seat to get comfortable, expecting to be here for a while.  ¡°Ok.¡±


    ¡°There are some very important rules to this process.¡±  He started reading from the paper:


    ¡°They are:


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Purpose of locksmithing: identifying what locks are and releasing them</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Point of Liminality: locksmithing is not the goal of life.  It is a tool that is sometimes needed for a certain job.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Paradigms of a "lock": The word lock is used in place of the word Sin.  It merely serves the purpose to take the sting of the word away while doing the actual work of locksmithing.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Practices of Respect in Pursuit of LockSmithing:</li>


    <ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">No mentioning to others what is talked about here today (unless you and I agree to do so)</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">The leader of the smithing (that is me, Dran) only guides the locksmith through the process by reading the steps, waiting for a response (however long it takes, Ty, there¡¯s no rush) and then moving forward as the locksmith is willing to continue</li>


    </ol>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Pursuit of locksmithing: the three definitions are classic locks, withoutness locks, and finally, doorstops.  These are all explained in more detail as needed.</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Ask to begin locksmithing: ask the locksmith if there are questions and then proceed if they want to.</li>


    </ol>


    Dran put down the paper and looked to me.  ¡°Do you have any questions?¡±


    ¡°It all seems fairly simple.  And I guess that we are dealing with withoutness, right?  Like we were talking about in our conversation last time?¡±  It was kind of odd and nice to have a space where I could ask questions without any agenda or fear on my part.  It was rare.


    ¡°Yes.  And the doorstops idea we could get into later.  But it would be a whole other conversation and I would rather that we tackle these as we go.  Would you agree?¡±


    I liked the idea of being asked for permission.  ¡°Yeah that seems fine.¡±


    ¡°What other questions do you have?¡±


    ¡°None right now.  I¡¯m guessing you¡¯ll be going on and asking me questions or explaining things.¡±


    ¡°Only if it¡¯s ok with you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.  I¡¯m interested.¡±  And I couldn¡¯t lie about that at the moment.


    ¡°There¡¯s one more thing I should explain before we go farther.¡±  He settled back in his chair.  ¡°There are more things than just the thief taking something from you.  Withoutness can be MUCH more than just classic sins done against you.  They can also be the absence of things that are good and they can-¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Explain ¡®absence¡¯?¡±


    ¡°Things that you don¡¯t have.  Same as withoutness, but a different word.¡±


    ¡°Ok.¡±


    ¡°So things that are good you can be without.  Absent.  Or rather, absence of them.  Absent and absence are the same thing.  And to be without them can look like sadness.  And what is the opposite of sadness?¡±


    Call and response again.  I bit my lip a little before answering.  ¡°Joy.¡±


    ¡°Sadness is a withoutness of Joy.  It¡¯s a sin.¡±


    I took the new idea in and played with it.  ¡°I think I can understand that.¡±


    ¡°You can apply that to anything.  Opposite of love? Hate.  Hate is something without love in it.  Pick other things: greed, lying, stealing.  These are opposites of wealth, truth, and or contentment.  Those are classic sins.  But some things like sadness are maybe what we wouldn¡¯t normally call sin.  But they really are.  Can you name any others?¡±


    I thought for a bit.  ¡°No.  But maybe because the idea is still new to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve found that it¡¯s easy for me to think of something good first, and then find its opposite.  That is the withoutness.  Name something good.¡±


    The idea came easily.  I raised the cup in my hand.  ¡°Thirst.¡±


    ¡°Good one.¡±


    ¡°Friendship.¡±  I said it outloud without thinking and then solved it a second later.  ¡°Aloneness is the withoutness.¡±


    ¡°Indeed.¡±  There was sadness in Dran¡¯s voice as he confirmed.  And I thought it kind of funny that he might be in ¡®withoutness¡¯ by being sad now.  It was giving me laughter.  Which was good.  Which countered his sadness.  What a funny world we live in.


    ¡°So you get it now then,¡±  He continued.  ¡°The idea is that withoutness is a lot and everywhere.  Pick things that make you sad.  They are most often the withoutness.  Or the buried sin.  Which is a term I don¡¯t fully understand.  I am ¡®without¡¯ knowledge in that.¡±  He smiled a little.  I returned the sparkle in his eye with my own.  We seemed to have a share of common love for weird jokes.


    ¡°Yeah.  I think I get it.¡±


    ¡°All right then.  So if you still want to continue¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then the next step is simple.¡±  He waited for a second too, which made me nervous all of a sudden.  ¡°Name a lock.¡±


    Silence for a couple seconds while I waited for him to continue.  But he didn¡¯t.  ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡±  I said.


    ¡°Name a lock.  One that has to do with withoutness.  In what way are you encountering withoutness in your life?¡±


    Slowly, but unstoppable like the weight of a falling tree, the question fell on my heart.  As I began to understand the question and then consider how to answer, I realized I had so MUCH withoutness.  Where to begin?  What to say?  My lack of riches?  The pain given to me by my father?  Both physical and every other way?  What about the pain of my brother''s simplicity?  The pain of knowing Nela would one day learn the heartbreaking story of how truly broken our family is?  It all came running together quickly, and I realized that these were all monster emotions I had locked in rooms.  They were howling.  All the time.  But I had covered my ears.  Looking at them scream at me from inside their caged rooms, I could remember the loudness of their rage.  I didn¡¯t even need to release the ears from my heart.  I knew what they sounded like and I had learned to not spend my tears on them.


    I looked up to Dran, noticing that my eyes had fallen to my hands, which were now in my lap.  I blinked at him, emotionless.  I didn¡¯t know how I could tell him any of it.  I did not trust him.  The last time I was in his home, I had screamed at him.  I¡¯d left with no good feelings.  And to open all of this up...I didn¡¯t know what would happen.  I couldn¡¯t.  Losing control and maybe telling him anything would undo all of my plans.  So what would I say?  Dran sat there, staring at me, and I remembered he said I could take all the time I needed.  ¡°Give me some time, Dran.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    I thought of Bela.


    ¡°Do you know my brother?¡±


    A very slight smile crept across his face.  ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°He¡­¡±  I had to take a moment where the monster that was my rage and shame was put back behind a door.  It was threatening to break out of me.  ¡°he¡¯s not exactly all there.¡±


    ¡°No.  He¡¯s not, is he.¡±


    I looked to Dran, surprised, even though I knew he¡¯d agree.  He was still as a blanket.  No movement.  But there was true sadness and a deep frown on his face.  He felt for me.  Or for Bela at the very least.


    A good bit of time passed between us, and I sat there.  Unsure what to do.  I was expecting Dran to say something.  When I tried to say something by opening my mouth, nothing came out.  And that was his sign to pick it up for me.


    ¡°You¡¯ve named the lock.  Partially.  What are you really saying when you speak of Bela?¡±


    ¡°I guess...I¡¯m thinking about what I miss from him.  The closeness we could have.  If he could understand more.  He¡¯s not really my big brother.  Not really.  Maybe we used to be.  But not anymore.  Not now that we¡¯re older.  I¡¯m passed him.  And I feel sad for him, really."


    ¡°Hmm...that is a good description of a lock.  A withoutness.  And now I ask if you¡¯re ready for the next step?¡±


    Something was moving inside of me, and it was deep.  The fact that it was there for a while, and then all of a sudden it showed up was shocking.  It was so deep and hidden that I didn¡¯t know how to control it, much less know it was right in front of me until it was just...there.  A thing that was stirring and being awakened which I couldn¡¯t name.  But it was old and more powerful than the anger.  It was what fed the anger, but it survived because it slept, sitting there just inside the dark part.  Where I couldn¡¯t tell what it was.  The darkness was so big and...everywhere inside of me¡­that I didn¡¯t even know how bringing up Bela had awakened it.  But as it moved along inside of me, I felt the anger come at me with a force I had never seen.


    Dran let me sit in as much silence as I wanted.  And I lost track of time as I looked at the darkness.


    I didn¡¯t know if I was tired of the dark thing in me, or if it was what was truly giving me life.  It was an unknown thing.  Something without logic.  And it drove me.  That much I knew.  But I didn¡¯t know if I hated or enjoyed that part of me.  I didn¡¯t know if I wanted to stop it.  It didn¡¯t threaten to destroy me.  It wanted to consume me.  Make me part of it.  And I really, truly wanted to be in the darkness.  Away from people.  Away from Dran.  Away from Bela.  My family.  The town.  Everyone.  To just be alone.  It was this that drove me to tears.


    But not tears on the outside.  I would never, not in one hundred lifetimes, let Dran see me break.  I would never let him ask the question of what was wrong.  So, I broke on the inside.  The heart cried til I lost all will to live.  But my face kept the mask.  No emotion went to my head, and definitely not to mouth or eyes.  My mind just waited, while part of me wanted to die a slow death.


    ¡°Yeah, Dran.  I¡¯m ready for the next step.¡±  It came out like I was made of stone, with no ability to go through me.


    ¡°The next step is to talk about the lock.  But you seemed to have done that a bit.  Unless you wanted to talk some more.¡±


    ¡°Not really.¡±


    ¡°Well then.  Next step?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Next step is accept the lock.¡±


    I thought about it for all of a couple seconds.  Almost smiled at how easy that was.  I was completely ok with the withoutness of anyone now.  ¡°Done.¡±


    Dran, who had been leaning forward, looking down at his book for a while now, looked up with surprise.  ¡°Really?¡±


    I shrugged.  ¡°Yeah.  I¡¯ve lived with this thing.  This lock.  For a while now.¡±


    ¡°Hmm.¡±  He crossed his arms and leaned back.  Staring at me, and then at the fire.  ¡°But you might need to accept it being there many times throughout your life.  That is...until you learned to release the lock.  But I¡¯m getting ahead of myself.¡±  He looked back to me.  ¡°You¡¯re sure you¡¯ve accepted it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±  I wasn¡¯t even really thinking about it.  It was time for the next step and completing this so I could leave.


    ¡°Display the lock.  Find and release the shame that one feels inwardly or from others.¡±


    ¡°Shame?¡±


    ¡°Yes.  Do you have shame that Bela is not like the rest of us?¡±


    I did have to think for a moment.  ¡°I suppose maybe.  I don¡¯t mention it to other people very often.  But I think it¡¯s known to anyone who meets him.¡±


    ¡°What about people who haven¡¯t met him?  How would you explain him to someone?¡±


    I narrowed my eyes.  Not understanding.  Or maybe...not wanting to.  I couldn¡¯t tell.  ¡°He¡¯s my brother.¡±  My eyes scattered to the right as I said this.  I could tell it was because I was dodging it.  But the action surprised me.  I had shame all right.


    ¡°And if they asked what he¡¯s like?¡±  Dran was apparently pretty good at seeing what was in front of him.


    I looked up at the ceiling for a second before leveling my eyes at him again.  ¡°I would say he¡¯s into masonry.¡±


    ¡°But you wouldn¡¯t mention his slowness?¡±


    ¡°Why would I?¡±


    There was a brief pause, full of intent.  ¡°You know.  Ty.  It¡¯s ok that your brother isn¡¯t the quickest or brightest person.  That he¡¯s dumb.  He¡¯s an idiot.¡±


    Rage.  I didn¡¯t know why.  I didn¡¯t know how.  It came out of me slow.  And it hurt like liquid fire.  ¡°You don¡¯t. Dare.  Say that about him.  You dried river of a soul.¡±  It wasn¡¯t exactly a shout.  But it was hot.


    Dran leaned all the way forward.  Because I was also leaning forward now, we were about arms reach from each other.  It felt a lot closer.


    ¡°You go and break my furniture again or raise your voice at me?  You¡¯re out.  Got it?  And you don¡¯t get to hide from your dad here in town.  You respect me.¡±


    With all that I had, I sat there.  Not saying a word.  But I was shaking.  Whatever was inside of me.  All of it.  It wanted to attack everything in sight.  It could¡¯ve been anything.  Bela.  My dad.  Dran.  R''osy.  The woman.  My mom.  The bookshop owner.  I started coming up with anyone who had ever done me wrong.  Then I thought about Nela.  Gahn.  People I wouldn¡¯t do anything to.  Who had only helped or cared about me.  I couldn¡¯t lose it.  Not for them.  I respected Gahn.  I loved Nela.  I needed to see this through for her at least.  I could take more.


    I calmed down and looked him in the eyes once more.


    ¡°I get that I just said some mean things about your brother.  But that was the point, wasn¡¯t it?¡±  Dran leaned back after saying this.


    I saw the truth of what he¡¯d done and why.  The wind blew out of me.  ¡°*sigh*...Sorry.¡±


    ¡°I forgive you.¡±  He said coolly.


    A quick lightning of anger shot through at him, just as a reaction, but I killed it.


    ¡°Don¡¯t know where it came from.¡±  I shook my head as I looked at the floor.  ¡°I don¡¯t think it was about Bela.¡±  I heard noise from his chair.  The sound of a blanket moving.


    ¡°It¡¯s ok Ty.  You¡¯ve had a lot happen to you in your short life.¡±  I didn¡¯t know if he was moving to hug me or settle back in his chair again.  But I didn¡¯t want to look up.


    This was pity.  He felt bad for me.  And I was ok with that.  I was now empty of emotion again, not wanting to say anything.  Should I stop this now and call it a day?


    I looked up at him.  He was staring at me.  ¡°Continue?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±  I said it almost without breath, thankful the conversation was ending.  It had tired me.


    ¡°Understandable.  But before we stop,¡±  He held out a palm, but face up.  A sign that he was trying to be peaceful.  ¡°I would like to wrap up where we¡¯re at.  Do you think you could do that?¡±


    ¡°I guess.¡±  But I didn¡¯t really know.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t about Bela?¡±


    ¡°No.  It was a lot of other things.¡±  Truth.


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me if you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t.¡±  Truth.  ¡°At least, not yet.¡±  Lie.  ¡°Maybe one day.¡±  Mostly-lie.


    ¡°There¡¯s no pressure.¡±  He went back on those words.  ¡°Or I mean, I did apply pressure.  You can see how this locksmithing can be very difficult.¡±


    ¡°Yeah.¡±  And I was honestly impressed at what Dran was able to get out of me with a regularity that no one else was.


    ¡°Well, if you can...I¡¯d like to finish this step.  But tell me if you can¡¯t.  By the way, this process is about three or four times longer than how far we¡¯ve gotten so far.¡±


    I ran my fingers through my hair and let out a deep, very noisy sigh.  ¡°What step are we on?¡±  I smiled and stuck out my tongue.


    ¡°Haha.  Yeah.  Ok.  Umm...It¡¯s the display lock.  I asked you if you have shame about Bela.  I think you do.¡±


    To finish the conversation, I decided to honestly consider it.  It sounds likely.  If this was a lock, a withoutness, then I would be ashamed at least in some way that I had this withoutness.  Again, even though this wasn¡¯t my fault.  ¡°Yeah.  But I don¡¯t know how I feel shame.  But I think it¡¯s there.¡±


    ¡°Do you feel ashamed of yourself or do you feel it from other people?¡±


    ¡°Why would I feel ashamed of myself?  Bela is the one who is different.¡±


    ¡°Do you care that he¡¯s different?¡±


    The answer was obvious, but I knew it was probably the reason for my shame.  ¡°Yeah I care that he¡¯s different.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s where you have the lock.  The withoutness.  The lack of connection.  You said it yourself.  Even in a forest, without anyone else around, if it was just you and Bela, you would be¡­¡±


    ¡°...Ashamed?¡±  Something was clicking.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the nature of these things.  You learn it over time.  You have a feeling that something with Bela isn¡¯t right.  You wish it were otherwise.  That is the very heart of what can cause shame.  It is how you are dealing with that judgment that matters.¡±


    ¡°I judge him?¡±


    ¡°We all judge each other.  The question is what do we do with the judgment.  Do I care that Bela is different?  Yes.  Do you?  Yes.  But we care in different ways.  You¡¯re closer to him.  But not as close as you want.  It is causing you grief.  That grief you are ashamed of.  But you don¡¯t have to be.¡±


    I didn¡¯t believe him before, but now I did.  I realized that I could let go of the shame and keep the grief.  They were not the same thing.  ¡°I feel bad that Bela is different.  But it¡¯s ok that he is.¡±  It was actually a question more than just me saying it was true.


    ¡°Yes.¡±  Dran nodded a bunch.  For his part, he thought I had gotten it.  It was still a new idea to me.


    ¡°That is one for me to think on.¡±  Truth.

 Chapter 9

    Walking back home was an odd experience.  There were a bunch of things that Dran said that were going on in my head, but at the same time, I was peaceful.  It felt like I had a new way of connecting with Bela all of a sudden.  Just letting him be himself and not trying to make him what I wanted him to be.  It felt freeing.


    The rest of the night was anything but freeing.


    Sounds of violence met me as I came up to the front door of our home.


    As I walked in, dad was holding Bela down on the floor, as my older brother cried very hard.  Dad wasn¡¯t really screaming, but his voice was very rough.  ¡°You¡¯ll do what you¡¯re told!¡±


    Bela had his arms pinned on the floor and dad was sitting on top of him.  Mom and Nela were in the entrance to the dining room, which was where I had just entered.  I stood there.  Frozen.  Waiting for dad to notice me.  I didn¡¯t want to say anything.


    He noticed the door opening and when I walked in he eyed me for a second.  But he went back to Bela.  ¡°Say you¡¯re sorry.¡±  His voice was deadly calm.


    Between the sobs Bela choked out: ¡°I¡¯m sorry mom.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ok Bela¡­¡±


    ¡°No.  It¡¯s not, Tobllo!¡±  After snapping at mom, he returned his stare at Bela, rage on his face.  ¡°He needs to mean it.¡±


    Bela continued to sob and not respond.  I didn¡¯t know what he could have said to make dad happy.  Usually we just had to wait until dad was done.  Or got what he needed,


    ¡°Do you mean it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, dad.¡±


    A scary second or two before dad got up off of him.  And then he walked outside, leaving my brother, my sister, and my mom.


    ¡°Bela, are you ok?¡±


    ¡°Yeah mom.¡±


    ¡°Next time, just do what he asks, the first time.¡±


    ¡°Ok mom.¡±


    I wanted to scream at her for not standing up to him.  But that wouldn¡¯t do any good.  I¡¯d said those words before.


    By this time, everything that Dran had said had emptied out of me.  I was just trying to make sense and survive.  It didn¡¯t even matter what dad had done.  What had happened.  It just mattered what I needed to know so I wouldn¡¯t get hurt.  Because Bela couldn¡¯t help. Nela couldn¡¯t, and mom either couldn¡¯t or wouldn¡¯t.  At this point, I didn¡¯t care.  She leaned on her faith as the way out.  I needed action.  I could not trust in some kind of goodness of people or anyone trying to understand this monster.


    *


    Next week, I¡¯d heard nothing from Dran or anyone else about A''rthur arriving.  It was making me nervous.  Would I go back into town and see if Dran knew anything?  Would I sit through another session with him?


    On one of the days of the week, for whatever reason, I wound up at Uncle Nelg¡¯s.  It had been a common place of visit for me.  And dad had been bringing me into town more and more often as I had made it a point to learn more potions (and also steal them as I could).  So everytime I came into town, I was making it a choice to stop in and see R''osy.  Today was about going to check in and make sure that things were good between us.  Dran had talked about her and I wanted to see what she was actually about.  Maybe try to understand R''osy a little bit more.  What could I gain from it?  What could I lose?  Having been around her enough times, I was almost sure that R''osy liked me, but the truth was I didn¡¯t care.  My life was chaos right now, and being close to her would make things much more difficult.  It would be harder to hold the lies where they needed to be if someone was poking around a lot.  And really the thing I wanted was to understand her more.  It would make it easier, possibly, if I knew what drove her, and why.  To understand her would make it easier to keep her at a distance.


    ¡°Hey R''osy.¡±


    The same kind smile responded like so many times before.  ¡°Hey Ty.¡±


    I walked past her, not quickly, but not slow either.  The idea was to pretend like I was here to see the latest crafts from my brother.  I had noticed the quality improve over time.  The reason just probably being he was getting better as he got older.  ¡°Here to check on your brother¡¯s work?¡±  R''osy¡¯s voice rang from behind me, even while I turned to see her handling payment for another customer.  Her voice carried high and full of . . . some kind of emotion I couldn¡¯t place.  But I was farther back in the shop now, near the carpenter¡¯s items, and she had raised her voice to ask me the question.  I could take many things from that action, but decided to play the fool.  I walked back to the front where she was still handling gold pieces for the older man at the desk.


    ¡°He¡¯s getting better.  And it seems that a lot of his stuff sells.¡±  I looked at what the old man was buying.  One of Bela¡¯s little stone cats was on the table.  It had been painted black (maybe by R''osy since she would do it for fun sometimes) and the sculpture was taking a nap.  In the bright light of the sun from the front window, the cat looked kind of lifelike, except for the fact that it was a tiny figurine.  I could see why it would be easy to sell.  It looked very peaceful.  I pointed at it and looked at the old man as I said, ¡°That¡¯s a good one.¡±  The old man smiled and nodded, saying nothing.  He had kind eyes.


    When he left the store, R''osy turned to me, looking directly into my eyes.  Before she spoke, a satisfied breath came from her nose and she stood on her toes for a second, bobbing back down before talking.  ¡°Yeah.  He¡¯s getting really good at them.¡±


    Bela liked her.  I¡¯d completely forgotten in the last couple moments.  ¡°He¡¯s doing pretty well for himself.¡±  The image of his sobs in the dining room flashed before me.  I pushed them down.  ¡°He¡¯ll be taking over Uncle Nelg¡¯s at one point.¡±


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s right.  He¡¯d never been good with the potions from what I hear.¡±  At another time, her quip would¡¯ve stung.  But not in my current state of emotions.  ¡°...though,¡±  She continued.  ¡°I¡¯d always thought you¡¯d be the one doing the more complicated stuff.¡±


    I blushed.  Couldn¡¯t help it, but I recovered fast.  ¡°I think I¡¯m on a different path.¡±


    ¡°Oh?  And what¡¯s that?¡±  Her eyebrows raised slightly.


    A frustrated sigh before responding.  ¡°I don¡¯t know.  But it¡¯ll take time to find out what it is.¡±


    ¡°Mysterious¡­¡±  A smirk appeared and I almost thought I saw her wink.  But I wasn¡¯t looking too closely.  Trying to not make too much eye contact.


    ¡°Frustrating.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I do find you frustrating at times.¡±  Now the grin had turned into a full smile.


    ¡°Ha ha.¡±  I responded dryly.


    ¡°Well you can¡¯t blame me.  You are very secretive.¡±


    My eyes lit up at that.  Was it so obvious?  But that¡¯s fine.  I had my reasons.  And as long as people didn¡¯t know too many of my secrets.  ¡°I have my reasons for keeping them, R''osy.¡±  Using her name to show how personal I wanted the words to feel to her.


    They had the effect I wanted.  ¡°I¡¯m sure you do¡­¡±  And the smile disappeared into a frown.  Her eyes fell to the counter, defeated.


    ¡°Just like I¡¯m sure you have yours.¡±


    And with that, she was staring at me again.  But this time she was a deer looking for predators.


    ¡°Hmm?  What do you mean?¡±  There was fear on the edge of her question.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about it.¡±  I was careful not to say ¡®about you¡¯.  I didn¡¯t want to lead her on.  ¡°You come from a good background.  This job is beneath you.  It doesn¡¯t pay well.  You should be attending parties and involved in town politics.  Not doing something so simple as this.¡±  I pointed at the table where a stack of paper sheets recorded all of the store payments she was responsible for taking.


    R''osy didn¡¯t say anything.  She stared.  But I noticed that her fingers had become very active, playing with each other like spider legs testing the surface before running.  ¡°You don¡¯t know anything about me.¡±


    I¡¯d been around enough of the kids in I''lochin by this time to hear all kinds of rumors.  Among them, I knew certain things for certain.  ¡°Your father is advisor to the mayor.  You live just up the road from here.  Your mom carries power when the mayor must be decided.¡±  I was trying to get into her personal life.  Much more forcefully than she had done with me, but now that I thought on it, she had done the same over a much longer period of time.  Payback time.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say.¡±


    ¡°Tell me why.  Why are you here?¡±


    R''osy looked down at the table and I could see that she didn¡¯t want to continue this conversation.  ¡°That¡¯s none of your business.¡±


    ¡°Yet my life is somehow something you have a say to?  You¡¯re always asking what I¡¯m up to.  Wanting to hang out with me, seeing where I¡¯m going.  But if I ask about you then you say I¡¯m not allowed to know?¡±


    ¡°...It¡¯s embarrassing.¡±


    I scoffed.  ¡°Join the club.  You seem to want to anyway.¡±


    Looking back up, her eyes begged at me to stop.  But I didn¡¯t feel very loving right now.  The opposite.  ¡°You either keep your nose out of my life, or you tell me more about yours.  That¡¯s the deal.¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    I left before she could reply.


    Standing in the court square, something was snapping in me.  The day was warm and I was on fire.  There was a need to cause destruction around me.  And an idea struck me that I¡¯d never realized before: I walked through town, right up to the door of Tesim and knocked.


    It was locked.  Of course it would be.  Dad wouldn¡¯t be here.  Wouldn¡¯t risk it.


    I thought about waiting there.  Breaking in and surprising her when she got home.  What if it was dad who came in through the door?  Everything would be done for.  But...he wouldn¡¯t come into town if he didn¡¯t know where I was.  Plus he was away on business.  He would need to know where I was first.  Also, I would be in a lot of trouble for maybe staying out that late.  Mom probably wouldn¡¯t tell dad if I missed bedtime or anything.  But was that worth it?  This close to everything?  A''rthur was in town.  He had to be by now.  Why hadn¡¯t I seen him at our home yet?


    I looked at the door and sighed.  As my shoulders slouched, I told myself the answers could wait.


    It turned out I didn¡¯t have to wait long.


    *


    Sometimes what happens in life is more ¡®colorful¡¯ than we think.


    As we experience something, we make it more than what it is.


    Other times, we take out some things so that the pain doesn¡¯t hurt as much¡­


    *


    It was three days prior that dad had been called into V''alen, apparently, on business. That was rather rare and he¡¯d only done so maybe once or twice in my life.  The timing was very unusual, given everything happening.  Even more unusual was that he didn¡¯t come home at night.  I figured he must be held captive by A''rthur.  Some kind of looking into the matter might be going on.  Maybe that¡¯s why the woman of sin wasn¡¯t home when I went there after seeing R''osy yesterday.  Maybe they were both locked up.  And I wondered if I¡¯d ever see my dad again.  Strange thing to think that I didn¡¯t care or want to see him for a long time.


    It was under the same tree I sat, in the side yard, before all of my life had come undone just a few months ago.  And now, I looked up at the clouds, completely lost.  More than I had been when I first saw the wind move through the tree above me.  Looking at the branches as they swayed ever so slightly, I found that I was ok now.  I still didn¡¯t understand the wind, but I knew that it was ok if I didn¡¯t.  Maybe one day, I would see what thing was causing it.  But for now, I was living in the world I could see.  It was full of things.  Drama.  Family.  Love.  Rage.  Beauty.  Ugliness.  There was much to be seen and experienced or dealt with.  I felt both alive and dead at the same time.  Odd feeling.  Balance, in a way.


    Mom came back from Yghtl, like she did some mornings.  But this time something was different.  Dran walked onto our land at the same time, appearing on the hill above me.  He was with mom.  And he was dressed ¡°normally¡±.  That was very odd.  I¡¯d never once seen him visit our house.  And I¡¯d never seen him dressed in anything other than his bizarre clothing.


    As I thought about what that could mean, a moment later they both came out of the house, Bela and Nela with them.  Mom looked to her left, down to me, calling me.  It was like a dream.  Didn¡¯t seem real, even as I climbed up the hill slowly.


    ¡°Hey mom¡­Dran.¡±  My eyes were narrowed, ready for watching any kind of odd behavior.


    ¡°There¡¯s a town meeting.  You¡¯re required to attend.¡±  Dran said this to me, as I guessed everyone else had been told.


    ¡°Ok.¡±  And with that we started walking into town.  Meetings weren¡¯t too uncommon.  But they were usually very important and everyone needed to attend.  Wars on the border, elections of new mayors, decisions about what to do with murders in town.  Important stuff.  ¡°Where¡¯s dad?¡±  I knew he was on business.  Yet still, this was one of the days he was always in town.  His customers expected it.  And our family had processed his absence last night silently.  He¡¯d show up whenever he wanted to.


    ¡°He¡¯s in town.  Someone spoke to him at the shop.¡±


    We walked in silence.  The other times I had asked about what the meetings were for, I had been told nothing.  But I always felt fear about them.  And now that I had been reading so much as of late, I had a new word for it: dread.


    ¡°What¡¯s the meeting about?¡±


    ¡°Nela, we¡¯re not going to know until we get there.  The mayor will tell us.¡±


    ¡°But I want to know, Ty.¡±


    ¡°I know.  But you need to wait.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    I looked at Dran.  His eyes were on the road.  He didn¡¯t know I was looking his way, as Nela and I were in the back of the group of travelers.  Back to Nela: ¡°That¡¯s the way it is.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡±


    ¡°Nela.¡±  One word from mom got my little sister to quiet down.


    The rest of the journey was in silence.


    The town square was where the meetings were held long ago, but it would always be packed.  The number of people living in and around I''lochin grew too great for the space, so in the past couple years anytime the town gathered, the roofs of the buildings would be used as additional standing spots.  When one of the building roofs caved in and injured a dozen people, the space was moved out into the nearby field, same place where the Yghtl celebration took place.  A hill served as a natural platform for the mayor to speak from.


    Walking through the town square, I caught Dran¡¯s house from the corner of my eye.  All of the moss had been ripped off.  When I asked him about it, he told me to stay quiet about it.  Mom agreed with him, without prompting.  I obeyed, worryingly.  Today was turning very strange.


    By the time we got to the hillside, it seemed like half the town had arrived so far, and since this was a Sunday that didn¡¯t surprise me.  No one really wanted to come to some bad news on a day off.


    ¡°Will you play with me, Ty?¡±


    ¡°Not right now, Nela.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m BORED.¡±  Nela spun around several times, seeming to think that would explain it more.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Ty.¡±  Mom spoke my name with a certain power in it.  I hadn¡¯t heard it before.  In fact, she seemed to be acting different today.


    ¡°Ok.¡±  Nela moved away from the slowly growing crowd over to the edge of the clearing.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t really want to play.¡±  She whispered.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°I was wondering how you and R''osy are doing.  Is Bela any closer to finding true love?¡±  I had been reading a book of stories and one of them was about lovers who had to find each other across sea and land.  Changing the story slightly and retelling it to Nela had gotten her head full of adventure and romance.  So now Bela and R''osy were on her mind.  Great.


    ¡°Umm...no.¡±  I thought of what had happened yesterday.  Only yesterday.  I had laid into R''osy and probably ruined Bela¡¯s chances with her.  It¡¯d been a while since he and I had spoken about her.  But then again, if I didn¡¯t bring it up, he wouldn¡¯t.  I would have to find out how he felt.  He wouldn¡¯t give me emotions or thoughts without me digging.  Such was his way.  ¡°Bela hasn¡¯t really said anything lately.¡±


    Nela frowned at me.  ¡°Ty.¡±  She used a chiding voice.  ¡°Bela needs you to do most of this.¡±  She was acting much more grown up than her nine years of aging.  It would be interesting to see what kind of person she would grow up to be.  ¡°And you¡¯ve been spending more time with R''osy than him.  You need to make her see why he¡¯s so special.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±  And I wasn¡¯t sure if I was lying to my little sister.


    ¡°So what are you going to do?¡±


    I thought about it.  I could make amends with R''osy.  Tell her what Bela thought of her.  Explain his desires and why he would be good for her.  Bela was a good person.  Simple.  But pure.  He wanted the best for people.  He would care for her.  I looked into myself.  I did not have the want or ability to care for much of anyone right now.  I was so burdened with myself.  My own survival amidst all of this violence and chaos.  R''osy would be worse off with me.  She didn¡¯t deserve me.  ¡°I¡¯m not sure what I¡¯m going to do yet, Nela.¡±


    ¡°Hmm...well I think you should invite her over to see how Bela works with his tools.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty good idea.¡±


    ¡°Like now.¡±  Nela pointed in the direction of the hill.  I spotted R''osy a second later after looking into the crowd.


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    Walking over to R''osy was done with small effort.  The crowd was full of noise.  Town gossip.  News of the world.  Updates on prices.  Catches of the day.  Tales.  Whatnot.  Normal conversation.  But on the edge of all of the talk was the dread.  People moved a little too much.  Swayed...like the trees¡¯ leaves from the wind.  Some people swayed less.  Like branches.  There was the mayor.  I could see him clearer as I moved close.  He stood still, calmly watching everyone, uncaring.  It was his job.  To seem powerful and in charge.  We looked to him for clarity and purpose.  This man did it well.


    R''osy was the most nervous of all the crowd though.  Her eyes darted everywhere, searching for something.  When she spotted me coming at her, she froze, locking on to me.  A second later, her eyes darted to the right and then back to me.  Almost unseeable (though I caught it) she leaned back slightly, almost in the same pose of the deer in the forest I¡¯d seen yesterday.  She seemed to be remembering that conversation.  And I felt a little guilty as I walked up to her.


    ¡°R''osy.¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry-¡±


    ¡°Ty.¡±  She snapped at me just as I was about to explain.  ¡°You...today is going to be bad.¡±


    Whatever I was about to say, it was drained from me.


    ¡°Go back to your family.¡±  And she pointed back the way I had come from, like I was a dog.


    So weird of her to do so.  Who did she think she was?  I thought about telling her off.  But I stopped myself.  I was here to make things right.  Not to make them worse.  ¡°Rosy-¡±


    ¡°No.  Go back.¡±  She glared at me, with no hint of meanness in her voice or face.  I obeyed.


    ¡°That didn¡¯t look good.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t.¡±  I was still thinking over how she had behaved.


    Nela started walking towards R''osy.  ¡°Nela!¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond.  Seemed to be the way of today.  No one answering me.  ¡°What are you doing?!¡±


    Nela turned her head to me as she kept walking.  ¡°Fixing your mistake!¡±


    That caused me a little bit of a laugh.  Nela could be so brave and devilish sometimes.  I continued to smile and chuckle as I watched her put her hands on her hips and tell R''osy off as the daughter of one of I''lochin¡¯s high officers just stood there, listening to a little girl about the ways of the world.  Finally, when Nela was done, R''osy pointed back to me.  Nela came back to our family on the outside circle of the town¡¯s population, gathered in a field.


    ¡°That didn¡¯t look good.¡±  I couldn¡¯t help the smirk as I said it.


    Nela was heated and kind of pouty.  ¡°At least now she knows to come visit Bela.¡±


    It took a number of hours for the rest of the town to meet, and it was now dark.  Only a single fire had been lit at the top of the hill, and the wind was trying to put it out.  Luckily it wasn¡¯t cold out tonight.


    We didn¡¯t have a faster way to get people together, and I wondered what would happen if there was a raid or attack on the people.  We would probably all be doomed except for the people in the town, near the mayor.  The town guards lived near his house.  Just the way it was.


    ¡°Hello everyone.  I have news for the town.  It has come to the attention of the leaders of I''lochin that laws of the King may have been broken.  Namely, lying and polygamy without consent were brought as accusations as one of the residents of I''lochin.  A''rthur, who stands beside me, has come from V''alen to determine the truth of these claims.  It has been concluded that the person accused was indeed guilty of certain transgressions, and justice will be met.  A''rthur, I leave it to you.¡±


    The mayor made his way off the hill, standing near R''osy¡¯s family.


    ¡°Bring the accused.¡±  Arthur''s voice was shrill and mousy.  Full in the nose.


    A man, fully robed and masked so he would not be known by the crowd, was led by one of the guards to the top of the hill.  His back was kept to everyone.


    A''rthur continued.  ¡°The person before us committed the following: he did not reveal to his community the intent to seduce and enslave a woman in order to bed her.  By order of W''illiam, acting under authority of King M''ark, this man¡¯s life is now voided.¡±


    The guard put a hand to the nape of the disguised figure and pushed it forward.  The victim obeyed by bowing forward, away from the crowd, toward the forest¡¯s tree line at the top of the hill.  A killing stroke was sent, and the head dropped.  Then the body fell, like a rock.


    A gust of wind took out the fire.  We were left in the dark as the night sky came into view.

 Afterword

    Influences for Steve Rho Hill


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Tattoos on the Heart by Fr. Gregory Boyle</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Foundations of Freedom by Bob Hamp</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Shakespeare</li>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">Oliver Twist by Charles Dickens</li>


    </ul>


    TMoS - Book number 02:


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    <ul>


    <li style="font-weight: 400">If this 1st TMoS book becomes popular, there might be another 12 books in the series coming down the line¡­with surprising twists and turns! And I¡¯m not 100% sure if I won¡¯t give those away for free as well. Maybe. Maybe not. But currently, Book 02 is already written, and I just have some redrafts to look into. And to be honest . . . Compared to this 1st publishing: I¡¯m even more excited where subsequent books lead the plot.</li>


    </ul>