Bright morning light was shining in Kael’s face when he awoke. The soft rocking motion of his bed told him that he was back on the ocean. He opened his eyes and sat up. The other young men were all in their beds, sleeping soundly. Kael wondered if the others had experienced the same thing he had. But he doubted that was the case. The sound of footsteps startled him and he lay back on his bed, pretending to be asleep. He suddenly felt guilty, like he shouldn’t be awake.
Ukiru’s quiet footsteps could be heard moving around the room, stopping at each sleeping body.
Kael’s heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he feared it was audible in the small room, proof that he hadn’t followed Ukiru’s instructions. Unexpectedly, a warm spoon was pressed against his lips and the aroma of soup filled his nostrils. He allowed the nourishment to be poured down his throat, feigning a peaceful sleep while inwardly fighting the impulse of fear that told him to get up and run.
Ukiru’s presence lingered over Kael a bit longer than the rest before he finally moved on and eventually went above deck.
When he was gone, Kael sat up to see if any of the others had been awakened by the feeding, but he was still the only one. His head ached and his muscles hurt like he had been training for combat all day. He rose to his feet and stretched his weakened body, surprised by the toll that the ceremony had taken on him. After more than an hour of pacing around the room in silence, Kael returned to his bed and tried to sleep again, but couldn’t get comfortable. It was like torture, waiting below deck for someone else to wake up, but there was nothing he could do. Kael passed the time by imagining what had happened in Bastul while he had been away, and he was alone with his thoughts until dusk.
The sun had dipped toward the western horizon, off the port bow of the ship, when Kael’s thoughts finally resolved into a decision. All day he had been struggling with how to continue at the monastery. He wasn’t sure of when they would finally be sent out into the world, but he knew that he had to leave soon. If the being that attacked his mind and body was really the All Powerful, then Kael didn’t want any part of him. He still felt like he needed to bathe after the visions he saw, though he knew it wouldn’t do much to clean the polluted feeling inside of him.
“So, you’re awake too?”
Kael spun his head around and saw Berit sitting up on his bed. “Yeah, I just woke up,” he lied.
“My head hurts,” Berit grumbled, and turned to look out the porthole situated above his bed.
“Mine too,” Kael lied again. His headache was actually gone, lessening and eventually disappearing over the course of the hours he had been awake.
One by one, the others began to wake up. The only one who seemed to be in the mood for conversation was Coen, who immediately began talking about his amazing experience. As the sluggish mood wore off, everyone began to chime in about this or that incredible feeling or experience. It only took a few minutes to confirm what Kael already knew—he was alone in his experience. Everyone else had done exactly what they were supposed to do, except for him. Suddenly the conversation stopped and Kael realized that someone had asked him a question.
“What?”
“I said,” Arden repeated, “how long before you passed out?”
Kael tried to look mystified to share in their excitement. “I lost all sense of time, so it’s hard to say.”
“I know,” Jorn blurted out. “That’s exactly what happened to me!”
“So you are all awake now?” asked Ukiru, who was standing on the stairs, watching his group of students. “Why don’t you continue your conversation up here and get some fresh air?”
Coen was the first one up the stairs and Kael waited to be the last. The group assembled at the bow of the ship and Kael leaned over the railing to watch the water as it split around the ship in smooth strips of white foam. The chattering continued around him and he was content to just look at the ocean until Ukiru tried to draw him in.
“Kael. What was it like for you?”
Is that skepticism in his voice? Kael wondered if Ukiru knew what happened, and then dismissed the thought because there was no way that he could. “Uh …” he stammered, searching. “I just don’t have the words.”
Ukiru nodded, apparently satisfied. “That’s a good way to describe it.”
* * * *
Saba sat against the door to his cell, with his ear pressed against the wood, straining to hear anything that might be happening outside. There was only silence. He moved slowly to the right and leaned forward again, closing his eyes and placing a hand against the door to adjust his listening position. As soon as his hand touched the door, he felt a strange sensation pass through his body. It lasted only for a second, but in that moment Saba could swear that he felt the inner workings of the lock on the door.
Reeling back in surprise, Saba listened carefully for movement outside while his mind raced with questions. Slowly, he leaned against the door, but nothing happened this time.
Did I imagine it?
He placed his hand near the lock and waited, attempting to recapture the feeling. And when he closed his eyes, it came again. The sensation was dulled somehow, muffled at first. But with concentration, Saba regained the clarity of the first occurrence. And then it was obvious, like looking at a picture, only more interactive. Saba could feel the bolt running through the iron lock on the door and into the housing on the door jam. Just as one might wiggle their finger, Saba knew without even testing his knowledge that he could move the bolt—without touching it.
But his excitement at the discovery was too great to allow him to be satisfied with that knowledge. He had to test it. With his hand on the door and his eyes closed, he simply willed the bolt to move. And just as expected, the bolt slid backward. It screeched slightly, grating on the inside of the door jam, and Saba immediately paused. Seconds passed slowly while he waited for the guard, who was sure to have heard the shrill sound, to react. When nothing happened, he tried again and the bolt slid free of the door jam.
How is this possible? And who am I that I can do such things?
With a deep exhale, he pushed gently on the door and it opened, allowing him an inch of visibility to the courtyard and the wall beyond it. There were no guards to see along his narrow path of sight, but they were out there. They changed positions every night at midnight, or so it seemed to his limited senses. And that had occurred more than an hour ago. Pushing again on the door, he opened it far enough to peek his head out. Just as expected, a guard sat to the left side of the door on a crude chair, slumped back against the building.
Saba eased his head back into his cell. Now his heart was racing.
After years of being held against his will, freedom was within sight. It waited for him, a few hundred feet across a dirt courtyard and a tall climb over a stone wall. But something else waited beyond that, something of much greater importance. Far to the south, in a country where the trees grew so tall and thick that their leaves blocked the sky, was a key that could unlock Saba’s history. Hidden from men in a place where rain was abundant and rivers flowed generously, carving out canyons and cliffs, a scroll waited to be read. To reveal its mysteries. Upon its rough and tattered parchment, a symbol was written that somehow connected Adair’s disappearance to Saba’s forgotten past.
This was the path that lay before him now, and the journey required the courage to take the first step. Saba quietly pushed the door open and crept out of his cell, slipping into the night.
* * * *
As the last male slave came up the steps and out of the dry cellar, he nodded to Zula, then brushed his hands together to clear the grain dust from his palms.
Zula turned to Maeryn. “That’s the last of it, mistress.”
Maeryn pretended to scan the preparations list in her hand while she waited for the man to finish walking out of the kitchen. When he was gone, she looked up from the parchment that she had memorized days ago.
“We’re alone now,” Zula assured her.
Maeryn nodded. “Alright. I’ve received confirmation that twenty-three of Bastul’s founding members will be attending the gala. I had hoped for better participation, but this will do for now.”
“And their servants?” Zula asked.
“I can’t know for sure, but it would be customary for some of their slaves to attend with them. After all, they wouldn’t dare lift a finger for themselves.”
Zula smiled.
“While I’m entertaining them, you’ll need to make contact with the slaves and begin building relationships with them.”
Zula’s forehead creased slightly.
“This is going to be just as uncomfortable for me as it will be for you,” Maeryn assured her. “I haven’t exactly been the most sociable governess over the years. But that will have to change. These founding members and their families are the key to everything. Those in their charge account for the largest part of the slave population in this city. And there’s no more practical way for us to make contact with them than to start participating in their social circles. I can’t stand these parties, but they’re the perfect masquerade for what we’re trying to do.”
“And what will we do beyond the parties?” Zula asked. “You haven’t shared what the next step will be.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Maeryn offered. She suddenly realized that she had been so consumed with strategizing that she had forgotten to inform her most trusted friend.
“The parties will help build goodwill between the governorship and the families directly affected by it. But I expect that Lemus will quickly tire of the effort, even as he experiences the benefits of it. Eventually he’ll begin to decline participation, which will give me the opportunity to become more involved—to be his representative at events he’d rather avoid. The goodwill will continue to be nurtured. He’ll continue to reap the benefits, and I’ll gain more opportunities to move through the city without his suspicious eyes looking over my shoulder. And then we’ll have plenty of occasions to visit with the wives. That’s where the real progress will be made. They like to share slaves because it makes them feel generous. That’s when I’ll be able to meet one-on-one with them …”
Zula was squinting but she didn’t look angry.
“What?” Maeryn asked. “Did I say something wrong?”
“I’m proud of you, mistress,” she clarified. “It takes courage to risk your life for the benefit of others.”
Maeryn breathed a sigh. “Thank you. But I don’t have to do this alone, do I?”
“No, mistress,” Zula replied with a smile. “I can talk with other servants at the market every day. We’ll do this together.”
Maeryn stood a little straighter at the comforting words. “Good. Now we only have two days to get ready for the gala. I’m going to see if I can get a few more families to attend.”
Zula simply nodded in response.