

PART ONE

Red Leaves and the Living Token

by Benjamin David Burrell

Published by Red Earth Press at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Benjamin David Burrell.

Cover Illustration Copyright 2012 Benjamin David Burrell.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to Smashwords.com to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

Red Earth Press

www.benburrell.com

To my wife and my children,

You make everything worthwhile.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Glossary

Back

Click! A metallic noise reverberated through the musty, book-filled room, snapping the School Master out of his thoughts. He lifted his pale green nose from an ancient, over-sized book.

A heavy wooden door creaked behind him as it turned slowly on its rusty hinges. Footsteps clanked into the room.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" he shouted, glaring over his shoulder. Students, for some reason or another, had lost their respect for his private hours.

Not hearing a response, he spun around. As soon as his eye caught sight of the intruder, his heart stopped. His body froze in horror. His jaw refused to open, choking off a cry for help.

In that moment, he realized he had misinterpreted everything. A week ago, a dark mood had settled over him, a sudden awareness of a critical, and yet, unfulfilled responsibility. As though there was something in the Token's purpose that he didn't fully understand, and had thus left neglected. He came here to search the 'Journal of the Reds', hoping somewhere in its pages he'd gain insight into his apprehension.

Now he understood. It wasn't a feeling of neglect. It was a warning of imminent danger. A warning he had not heeded. He had just failed in his greatest responsibility - to protect the Token.

-

Nemic sat at a small, but well crafted, wooden table. His green cheek rested in his thin, spindly hand, as he stared into an open book. His light green skin was gnarled and twisted like a piece of driftwood, the unfortunate effect of age. Long stalks grew up from his back, sprouting a halo of decorative leaves behind his head.

Small shelves and tables filled the modest size room with just enough to be comfortable. Tan, leaf-less vines decorated the harsh stone walls with beautiful arcs and spirals.

"Kacha, Kacha!" Frezen, playing on the floor behind Nemic, made an attack sound as he aimed a toy animal up at an older boy's face.

"Stop it!" the older boy, Bedic, scolded as he snatched the toy from Frezen's hand. "I'm trying to read." He turned back to his book resting open on a child-sized table.

SLAM! The thick wooden door to the room burst open, spilling the elderly School Master, with his flowing yellow and brown robes, into the room. Blood dripped from a saturated red tear on the front of his robes. Open wounds wept from his neck and face, exaggerated against green skin. He stumbled further into the room, holding two objects in his arms; a large book, and a small metal chest with a key hole.

"Master!" Nemic jumped up and rushed to his side to keep him from falling. "What happened?" He pulled at the heavy book and chest, trying to ease the old man's burden as he led him towards a chair. He turned to the older boy. "Bedic, get some water."

The School Master grabbed Nemic by the arm, and looked him in the eye. "Nemic, stop fussing and listen to me. Someone is coming!"

Nemic glanced back at the door, alarmed.

"I have to ask you to do something for me, and we don't have much time."

"Of course," Nemic answered.

The School Master stumbled to the table where Nemic had set the book and chest. He looked up at Nemic but didn't speak.

"Tell me!" Nemic demanded.

The School Master shook his head and looked away. "I never wanted to put this on you. I'm so sorry. I should've prepared you."

"Prepared me for what? Who's coming?"

"Valance," the School Master muttered almost to himself as he sat. "He's come back for the Token."

The School Master picked up the small metal chest from the table and held it in his gaze. "I'm sorry I have to ask..." He grabbed Nemic's wrist. "You must do everything in your power to keep it away from him."

Nemic stared at the metal chest. The School Master put it down and lifted the book. On the cover was an illustration of the Token, a small plant with a round stone holding its roots and a bird wrapped around its trunk. "This book will answer your questions. I'm sorry there isn't more time." He pushed the book and the metal chest over to Nemic.

"Take the children and go through the rear passageway." He got up from the table and shooed Nemic towards the back of the room.

Footsteps clanked in the hallway outside the study. The School Master turned to the now closed door. The footsteps stopped. He turned back to Nemic and yelled, "GO!"

The door crashed in. Two towering Zoen soldiers in full armor charged into the room, long swords drawn. One had an exceptionally long snout, even for a Zo, covered in thin coarse hair. The other was smaller and more hunched. His long neck pushed his head out in front of his furry body.

The School Master threw up his robes and pulled a large dagger from a hidden belt sheath. A burst of blinding white light filled the room from the shimmering dagger's blade. The larger soldier lunged and struck the School Master before he could block with his dagger. "Aaah!" The School Master cried as the blade sunk deep into his arm.

"Drop your weapon," the soldier commanded.

"Take it and get out of here!" The School Master yelled at Nemic.

The hunched soldier moved around the School Master to intercept Nemic. "Let's not run off just yet, my friend."

The larger soldier stepped closer to the School Master, lifting his sword again. "I'll tell you what old man. Give us what we want and I promise I'll make this painless for all of you."

Nemic stopped.

"What are you doing? GO!" the School Master shouted.

Without warning, the old man lunged at the soldier with his dagger. The soldier laughed and lifted his sword complacently to block.

His eyes grew wide as the dagger's blade passed through both sword and armor, stopping up to its hilt in his chest. He gasped and dropped to the floor.

Nemic took advantage of the distraction and slammed a chair over the long, extruded head of the other, sending the soldier forward in an awkward stumble. He regained his composure after a few steps and lifted his sword towards Nemic.

The School Master rushed in from behind and stabbed his dagger through the soldier's armor. The soldier screamed in pain, dropped his sword, then fell.

The School Master, bleeding heavily, collapsed. Nemic rushed to his side.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Take the kids and go!"

"But..."

"Don't argue, just go!"

Nemic reached his arms around his Master and tried to lift him up. "Master, I can get you out of here!"

"I'm already dead. If he gets the Token... We'll be worse than dead!" He grabbed Nemic's arm and put the glowing dagger in his hand. "I'm sorry Nemic, I never prepared you for this."

Nemic stood and backed away reluctantly. His mind spinning, he turned and led the two children to the back. He grabbed a thick vine that spiraled across wall in wide concentric loops. At his touch the vine obeyed, quickly receding to reveal the edge of a door way. He pulled impatiently at the handle, not giving the vine enough time to clear the rest of the door. Snap! Snap! The plant broke in a dozen places at once, releasing the door in a sudden burst.

Nemic pushed the two children through the passageway and down a narrow corridor that dropped into darkness as they turned the first bend.

"I can't see," Bedic whimpered.

"Keep a hand on the wall and move quickly."

Nemic followed the wall around a new corner before his hand found the lever that opened the outer lock. He pulled it quickly then felt for the thick frame of the door. With a solid push, the door opened, flooding the passageway with sunlight.

Nemic peered outside cautiously, looking in both directions. There was no one.

A large garden stretched from one end of the school to the other. Typically at this time of day, before the heat of the afternoon, there'd be at least a few people tending it.

To the east, a wide, well worn path led away from the garden, curved down a slight hill and disappeared behind a patch of trees. It was about five miles to the city, further then the kids had ever traveled on their own before.

Nemic knelt beside his son, Bedic, and handed him the dagger and the Master's book.

"Go find your mother. Tell her something bad has happened and she needs to leave the city. Don't tell anyone where you're going,"

He turned to Frezen, "Stay with Bedic."

"Daddy!" Bedic cried.

Nemic turned his son around by the shoulders and scooted him along. "Go! I'll see you soon."

Beyond the garden to the west, rolling grassy hills extended as far as he could see. They'd make it easy for him to be seen from the school. Which meant they'd follow him instead of his children.

He watched for a moment to make sure they kept going down the path before he crossed the garden and climbed the first hill.

-

The School Master opened his eyes to the noise of footsteps echoing down the hallway just outside. The broken door squeaked as someone entered. He watched without lifting his head as the legs of a business suit stepped over a shattered bookshelf and kicked aside scattered books.

"Master!" A heavy voice cried.

The School Master strained to lift his head as the Zoen in the suit knelt beside him. Something about the man seemed familiar.

"How badly are you injured?" the man asked, as he pulled debris off the School Master's body.

"Valance?" The School Master asked, not believing his eyes. The man looked like his former student, but so many years had passed. This man was far too young.

"I can't begin to apologize... They were supposed to provide security for my visit. I don't know why they attacked."

The School Master's mind flooded with a sudden burst of memories; every conversation he'd had with this man when he was still a student, everything that led up to their conflict. "I knew you'd be back someday... I didn't think I'd be this old when you finally came."

Lord Valance's two men clanked into the room. The School Master shifted his weight to look at them.

"Barnus and Whitting? The three of you stuck together all of these years?" They looked just as impossibly young as Valance.

"We didn't come for revenge, Master," Lord Valance explained.

The School Master paused to study their faces.

"I will do everything in my power to stop you from taking it. You must know that," he told them with as much strength as he could gather. He struggled to push himself up enough to rest on his elbows.

"Master, please. You assume the worst of us. That's not why we're here."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"I'm no longer the angry young boy that left here so many years ago. I've come to regret, rather deeply, the way I ended our relationship. The memories are... an embarrassment."

"You went where you were not invited and took what you were not given!" the School Master whispered with labored breath.

"Yes, yes I did," Lord Valance admitted.

It wasn't enough that the young Valance had followed him to the temple, the School Master thought. The boy was seen hours later, returning to the school grounds with a sack of weapons and armaments he stole from the temple.

The School Master looked up at Lord Valance. "I follow the same rules I asked you to follow. I go nowhere unless invited and take nothing that is not given. It is their decision. And to you, they did not give."

"I've come to ask forgiveness." Lord Valance pleaded.

The School Master regarded him for a moment then took the Lord's hand. He pulled back the strong fingers to reveal the center of his palm. A black mark appeared, as if the fancy engraving from the hilt of a sword had been branded onto his skin.

The School Master let out a sigh of disappointment. "As I feared."

Lord Valance stared at his own palm, stunned.

"Forgiveness? You still have the mark of a weapon on your hand. How long has it been since you've used it? A day? Two?"

The School Master dropped Valance's hand. The mark disappeared.

"I..."

Valance looked up at his old Master then back at Whitting, bewildered. He regained his composure.

"We had no idea what it was that we took. Their power... It was more than we anticipated. We came back to ask... we need... help."

The School Master leaned towards him. "Bring me the swords!"

"If only it was that easy." Lord Valance shifted his weight. "As you said. I can't seem to be apart from them for more than one or two days."

"What you've done cannot be undone with a wave of the hand. Bring me the swords and I will help you endure the pain that separation will bring. The suffering will pass, I promise you. It will be but a short moment, and in return you will have, for the first time since you took them, peace."

"I understood there was another way."

The School Master shook his head. "The Token cannot help you now. To use it to find the Reds would only seal the damage you've done."

"But the writings say..."

"Valance," Lord Whiting interrupted.

Lord Valance turned. Lord Whiting pulled open the false door in the back of the room, revealing the passageway.

Several sets of footprints marked a trail in the light blanket of dust covering the stone floor.

Lord Valance jumped to his feet and rushed to the back of the room, knocking over a shattered table in his haste. He stopped himself with the stone wall surrounding the passageway and turned back to the School Master.

"What is this?"

Lord Barnus stepped into the room. "Valance, the Soldiers reported a botan man running from the outer wall."

"There is one way and one way only. Bring back the swords!" The School Master shouted.

Valance eyed his old master, then turned to Barnus.

"Bind his wounds. Keep the soldiers here. Whiting and I will go after the botan."

He motioned for Whiting to follow him as he charged down the passageway.

Lord Barnus climbed through the debris to the injured old man. A smile crept across Barnus' face as he stood over him.

"Lets just say, I don't share Valance's affection for the past."

He pulled his overcoat back over the hilt of his sword and drew the dark blade.

-

The soft grass thinned into a barren landscape of jagged volcanic rock. Just ahead, the rock dropped away into a sharp cliff.

Nemic ran to the edge and fell to his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. To the south, the plateau broke into pointed crags. He couldn't see anywhere to go in that direction.

To the north, the cliff face weaved in and out as it formed the coast line below. The top of the cliffs seemed stable. He could make good time that way. There was a small sandy beach at the base some distance away, trapped in alcove. Perhaps he could hide there.

He peered over the edge of the rocky wall. Normally, the salty mist and rhythmic crashing of the waves had a calming effect. Instead, a blur of panicked thoughts raced through his mind.

He opened the small wooden chest and took out the tightly wrapped bundle inside. As he unwrapped it, fold by fold, a pale glow cast beams of reddish white light through the misty air.

He pulled back the final fold and revealed the source of the light. He stared at the perfect beauty of its carved form, resembling a shrunken tree with a ball of roots at its base and a slender bird wrapped around its trunk. He had never known what it looked like, only its function and importance.

Holding it in his hand was an incredible honor. He was supposed to have waited another ten years at least before the School Master gave it to him as part of the rights of succession. Everything about his possession of it now meant that something had gone wrong. What should've been a celebrated occasion, now only signified tragedy and loss.

The thunder of horses in full gallop interrupted the roar of the sea below. Nemic turned abruptly.

A tight pack of black horses erupted from a grove of trees to the north and turned to follow the northern edge of the jagged cliffs. Several of the men on the horses drew their swords.

The blood drained from Nemic's face. His time was up. There would be no escape.

He turned back to the ocean and raised the figurine in front of him. It was beautiful, he thought, as it glowed softly in the evening light.

He glanced back at the horsemen bearing down on him, only moments away.

"God forgive me!" he whispered.

He pulled the Token back and threw it as hard as he could over the edge of the cliff, doubling himself over with the effort. The wind caught it as it fell, pushing it further out into the sea.

With a cacophony of screaming men and clomping hooves, the swarm of horses overtook him.

Sixty Years Later...

Raj Handers pushed through the old hospital room door; his heavy leather work apron swung in behind him. He had a habit of forgetting to take it if off after work. Not that he made much of an effort to remember. His physical appearance had slipped far from the top of his concerns.

He was sure he was breaking some sort of social code of conduct to be seen publicly in work clothes, given his social standing. But then, it wasn't his reputation that'd be injured, it was his in-law's.

He slid the apron down the long curve of his hunched neck then lifted it quickly over his head and snout before it caught on his teeth.

The action made a painful pinch in his spine. All Zoes were a little stooped, he tried to excuse himself. But his was extreme and getting worse. His son, Emret, reminded him, on occasion, to hold himself up straight. But he didn't seem to care enough to make a consistent effort.

"We brought you a little treat," he said as he set a plate of colorful pastries down on a small counter at the back of the room. A thin railed bed filled the remainder of the space, leaving only a few feet to pass between it and the wall.

His son sat at the right of the bed, propped up against a pile of thick pillows. The boy's nurse sat on the left with her feet swung over the side and a tattered green book open in her lap.

The door banged open as Rinacht struggled to back through without dropping a stack of books balanced in his hands. His small Petra form and formal servant attire contrasted harshly against Raj, his much larger Zoen employer. The Petra looked as though they were hewn of stone, a collection of sharp rocks clumped together. Compared to the Zo, they were like giant boulders. Rinacht, however, had been the blessed recipient of exceptional genetics. He was small and exceptionally so. In his own land, he'd been a peculiarity, but not odd enough to draw stares in the street. Here, though, he was a peculiar variety of an almost non-existent breed. There were almost no other Petra in the city.

"We got you some new books!" Raj said as he circled around to the top of the bed.

"Yes, we..." Rinacht lifted the stack still in his arms to emphasize the word, "brought you all that we could carry."

Emret looked up from the green book and sat back against a pillow. "Hey Dad, Rinacht."

Emret had just crossed into those awkward teenage years. Raj was having a hard time seeing him as anything other than how he'd always seen him - a little boy. Only now he was stretched out a little funny, and he seemed to disagree with him a lot more.

The boy's attractive young Botan nurse closed the green book softly and stood. "Hello Mr. Handers." She greeted him with something slightly more than a friendly smile.

Moslin was beautiful. The Bota were a beautiful people. At least he thought so. They weren't hunched over, fury messes like the Zo, or cold unforgiving clumps of mass like the Petra. No. They were slender and elegant. Their skin was a smooth creamy green that flowed in long graceful curves with only the thinnest hint of fuzz. Raj couldn't imagine what it would be like not to have to deal with his thick pelt.

Emret grabbed the green book and put it on his lap. They'd been reading it together... again, Raj thought, as he returned the smile. He took her hand and bowed slightly. "Miss Moslin."

Despite the annoyance of her continual disregard for his desire that she not read that particular book to his son, he couldn't help but smile when she was in the room.

"What happened?" Emret asked, a bit surprised.

"What?" Raj leaned to the side to see his boy behind the lovely Moslin. He followed the boy's glance down to his apron still draped over his arm. The thick leather had long gouges cut down its full length. It appeared as though a large set of claws had raked across it a few times.

"Oh. The Attly Clan's black bears. They've become a little aggressive lately, stopped responding to clan issues. I've had to work with them all week."

He leaned over by his son and kissed him on the forehead. "How you feeling today?"

"Fantastic." Emret answered dryly. "What are you trying to do, book a room here next to mine?"

"Funny," Raj responded. He turned his attention to the green book. It looked like it belonged in a museum rather than a kids hands. "What are you guys reading?"

Moslin looked away, uncomfortable.

Emret stared at the book. "Same thing."

Raj turned his attention to the nurse. "I appreciate you taking so much time with my son."

"My pleasure."

"Although, you run the risk of making your other patients jealous," he said with a half grin.

She laughed. "I don't think it's the other patients I have to worry about."

He smiled.

She picked up the green book off the bed and stepped past Raj towards the exit.

"Where're you going?" Emret asked.

"Your father's right. I do have other patients."

"Thanks Dad," Emret muttered sarcastically.

"Don't worry, sweetie. I'll be back later," she said as she slipped out the door.

"Didn't you two just finish that book?" Raj asked as he turned back to the bed.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Well, how many times have you read it?"

"I don't know."

"Don't you have other books you could read?"

"Dad! Seriously."

A scratching noise reverberated from the wall across from the foot of the bed. They both turned abruptly, startled by the noise.

At the base of the wall near the door was a small, ornately trimmed hole. The scratching grew louder until a small rodent scampered out onto the lip of a piece of trim and hopped down onto the tile floor.

It scurried across the tile and stopped in front of Raj with its chest exposed. A metal plate, engraved with his wife's family crest, hung to its underside.

Raj dropped his shoulders. It was such an ugly creature. And it stunk. Appropriate to announce the arrival of his wife's family, he supposed, chuckling to himself.

The rodent knocked its hands against the metal crest a few times then scampered back the way it came.

Rinacht got up from his seat and moved towards the door. "Shall I admit them, sir?"

Raj stared at him for a moment before responding. What if he said no. He could, couldn't he? What if he simply didn't let them in. It wouldn't be that bad, would it?

He looked back at his son who was watching him with a disapproving look. "Yes, of course. Why would you need to ask that, Rinacht?" He delivered an uncomfortable fake laugh to his son, then pointed at Rinacht as though he didn't know what had gotten in to him.

He followed his glum servant to the door to meet the arriving guests. "And we were having such a nice day." He muttered.

Rinacht turned to him and whispered, "She could fall. You know... accidentally. The floors are quite slippery."

Raj laughed. "You're a good man, my friend."

A light rap on the door cut off their exchange. Rinacht opened the door and made a welcoming gesture to the guests standing outside. "Please come in."

Emret's grandparents and an aunt danced into the room with an explosion of chatter. Rinacht bowed politely. "My Lord and Ladies."

They side stepped Raj and Rinacht without a word of acknowledgment and continued their exaggerated waltz towards their grandchild, singing his woes all the way to his bedside.

Emret leaned forward to greet them as they wrapped him up in a warm embrace.

His grandpa grabbed a handful of Emret's hospital gown and pulled on his stomach skin. "What're they feeding you in here, my boy? You've gained ten pound, I'm sure of it."

"So when do we get to sneak you out of here?" asked his aunt.

"Yes that's a good question," the boy's grandmother said, then paused. "Raj?"

Raj glanced over from his hiding place in the corner. "I'm sorry?"

She didn't turn to face him. "When is he coming home?"

"We don't exactly know, just yet."

This time she turned. "What do you mean you don't know yet. The poor boy's been here over a month! You should know everything there is to know by now."

"Well, they're..."

"What're you trying to do to the poor boy?"

"The... the doctors are doing everything they can." He stammered.

She stared at him coldly. "Are they?"

Raj scowled, then grunted to himself as he looked away, shaking his head. She knew she could speak to him however she wished and he'd offer no resistance. What would you call a person who took advantage of a mans guilt? Foul? Treacherous? Conniving? He had a hard time not thinking ill of his mother in law, yet it made him uncomfortable when he did. He tried to put the thoughts out of his mind.

A knock on the door broke the tension. Moslin entered without waiting for permission. "Excuse me. I need to check on Emret."

"If you'll excuse me. I'll be back in one moment." Raj said as he slipped out the door.

Moslin stopped in front of Emret's grandmother on the way to his bed. "I understand you have a concern about Emret's treatment? If you'd accompany me outside, I can answer any questions you might have."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," the older woman answered with a polite smile.

"With all due respect ma'am, the hospital staff as well as your son are doing everything in our power to help Emret. Please refrain from antagonizing patients or their family while in this hospital."

"Raj isn't my son."

"Visiting hours are over. You have five minutes." She turned and left the room.

-

Moslin hurried down the cold, white plaster hallway. "Raj wait," she called.

He stopped at the other end of the hallway and turned to her.

"You don't have to leave. As Emret's father, you have the right to restrict his visitors for any reason."

He laughed. "Thanks, but... Any pain saved now would be paid back in measure later. Besides they're good for Emret. He needs their enthusiasm."

"She's wrong you know," she said quietly.

"She's wrong a lot, but I've never had the privilege of telling her." He smiled. "Now I'm jealous."

"Oh, you heard that?" She looked away, embarrassed.

"Thing is, though," he paused, unsure of how to explain. His mother-in-law had a knack for finding his weak points and drilling them. "What if...?"

"Uh, Oh. Don't go down that road. Trust me."

"Am I doing everything I possibly can? I don't know. What if there's something else I haven't tried. Maybe I'm not pushing the doctors hard enough. Maybe this isn't the best hospital for what he needs. Maybe there's a doctor with more experience with his symptoms," he said.

"Then you push, and you try, and you ask, and you do everything you can. That's your job. You make sure they do their job to best of their abilities."

He looked at her for a moment then nodded his head.

"I know you'd never give up on him. No matter what people said or how hard it got. You're a good father, don't ever doubt that."

He stared at her. "Thank you. Sounds like you're speaking from experience."

"I've been through this in one form or another. One of the worst parts of my job." She looked up at him. "Can I share something with you?"

He nodded his head.

"Come with me to the next service." She handed him a card with the date and time of a church meeting, a Botan church meeting. He frowned, not sure how to respond.

"I know you're not of the same... you know... its just, it offers a lot of comfort. You've got a lot of difficult questions ahead of you. The kind that people don't have answers to."

He looked at the card again. "Thanks but I don't..."

"Think about it. Just an invitation, that's all."

"Mr. Handers!"

Two Zo doctors had come up the hallway behind them. One of the doctors motioned for Raj's attention.

"Mr. Handers, I've been looking for you. Can we speak in my office for a moment?" He gestured for Raj to follow.

"Sure, Dr. Eghart." He followed him around the corner to his office. The doctor let him in and shut the door behind.

"Please, have a seat." He pointed to a chair.

Raj sat down while Dr. Eghart put some charts up on a white board. Each chart had his son's name written on a label in the corner. He had no idea what they were for. One was some sort of graph. Another was a strange series of lines.

"First of all, thank you for your patience this last month with so many tests. I know it's extremely difficult not knowing." He paused. "We believe we've discovered the underlying cause of your son's condition."

"Great. That's good news."

"Well it is, and it isn't." He put his hands together. "Um... We believe your son's binding... Well, we believe he's becoming unbound."

"What?"

"I know its difficult to understand, you..."

"That's not possible. He's never missed a single day of Manea."

"Unfortunately, we don't understand what's causing his bond to deteriorate. Because of that we haven't been able to stop its progression."

"What do you mean?"

"We don't have a solution yet, but we're hopeful, with time, that will change."

"How much time do you need? How much time does Emret have?"

"That, of course, is our greatest concern right now, and, unfortunately, we don't have the answer."

Raj sat back in his chair. His head was spinning. This isn't what they told him when he first came. They said it was a minor issue, a chemical imbalance of some sort. A month of testing later and his condition deteriorates to this? Something, somewhere must've gotten mixed up. Could someone have switched the charts?

"I don't understand what's happened? You said..."

"I know this is not what you were expecting to hear," the doctor said calmly.

Raj leaned forward rubbing his head.

"I'm sorry Mr. Handers. This is an extremely rare condition. Because of that we've had little opportunity to understand it. There are only a few prescribed treatments, and none of them have been able to stabilize his bond."

He took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. He tried to see the situation clearly through the fog of emotion. If the doctor was right, he had to figure out what to do next. He had to fix this. "What happens when his binding fails completely?" he asked.

"His body will begin to revert. He'll lose his higher functions. You have to be aware; it's not a condition he's likely to survive."

"So what do we do now? What the next step?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Handers. We're already doing everything we can."

"Why can't we just feed him more Manea? Or cut out all his other food and give him only Manea!"

"Unfortunately, like many diseases, once the damage has been done it cannot be undone through a change in diet. Additionally, we don't believe Manea deprivation caused his condition. As you said early, he hasn't gone a day without eating it."

Raj shook his head.

"So that's it? You're saying he's going to die because you can't think of anything else to try right now? But maybe you'll think of something later?" The anger swelled into his face, pushing out through heavy, labored, breaths. He struggled to rein it in, to keep himself from completely breaking down.

"We can't simply throw random treatments at him and hope that something will work. The wrong treatment could kill him."

"But if you take your time debating about what might and might not work, he'll die anyway. I think it's time to take some risks here."

"Mr. Handers..."

"I refuse to accept that there isn't a better way to do this." Raj stood.

"Mr. Handers, please. You have to understand. Any loving parent would exhaust all effort looking for something to heal their child. I understand that. You'd go to the ends of the earth if needs be." The doctor got up.

"What I want you to understand is that's not necessarily what he needs right now. That's not what you need right now. A natural part of the grieving process is coming to terms with an outcome beyond your control. The unending quest for new and exotic methods is contrary to that grieving process.

"It's a desperate attempt to control something that has proven itself to be uncontrollable. Believe it or not, the powers of modern medicine are, in fact, finite. We can't cure everything."

"But..."

"Endless searching will only prolong the pain and rob you of the time that you do have left to say good-bye. Let us worry about finding the solution. You worry about the time you spend with your son. If your son's last day comes soon, that will not be something you can control. What you can control is how you prepare yourself and your son for it."

Raj grabbed his coat and slammed the door as he left.

-

He found himself wandering out the back of the hospital and down the dark street that led to the coastal cliffs. It was the first place that came to his mind when he wanted to be alone.

A steep staircase, cut into the black rock, led from the street to the sandy beach below. He stumbled down the steps, holding an arm in front of his eyes to shield against the sand blowing off the rocks.

He'd come here before, to be alone, to think.

He wandered onto the wet sand and felt the spray on his face from the dark waves that crashed against the beach. Night had come while he'd been in the hospital. Yet the night, with the moon glowing through a thin layer of clouds, seemed to add to the seclusion he was seeking. He tried to avoid the thoughts that were stirring in his mind, memories of his wife, memories of the last time he'd come here from the hospital. It'd taken him so long to forget, to push the memories back far enough that they stopped hurting. He had to. He had his son.

She had passed away when Emret was five. It was quick. They only had a few months warning. Emret didn't understand what happened. Raj had no idea how to help someone so young deal with such a great loss. He didn't know how to deal with it himself. But it was worse watching his son suffer.

The moon went dark behind a thick cloud. A flash of lightening flickered from the horizon, giving a momentary glimpse of the approaching storm. He felt a crushing weight growing from inside, pushing down on him. He couldn't afford this, not now. He had to fight back.

He dropped to his knees, sinking into the soft sand. A gust of cold off-shore wind cut through his fur.

He looked up into the darkness. He didn't know what he was looking for. Sometimes just seeing the heavens full of light staring back down was reassuring. It felt like something was there, even if he didn't know what it was, and it was larger than him; It was larger than everyone.

He got no such comfort tonight from the black storm rolling in above. The crushing weight increased, almost as though the storm had pushed a slender finger down, trying to burrow its way inside him. His desperation grew to panic.

"Please," he voiced into the wind. "Help me."

Another flicker of light flashed across the sky, showing for a brief instant the beauty of the clouds as the lighting etched its zigzag through them.

"Please," he begged. "Don't take my son away too!"

He turned away from the sky. What right did he have to ask such things? The proposition was ludicrous.

He looked up once more. Ludicrous or not, he had nothing left.

"Please," he whispered.

His thoughts dropped to a sharp pain in his knee. He shifted his weight to move his knee off a sharp rock that poked him from under the sand.

Another flicker lit up the sky. As he looked down into the depression that his knee had left, he noticed a faint trace of light remained after the lightning's bright flash.

The wind blew away some of the sand, causing the trace of light to swell. The sharp stone that he'd felt under his knee was emitting light! The wind continued to clear away the object. It was some sort of carving, the figure of a small plant or a miniature tree! There was something else, something on the tree. He wanted to reach down and feel it, to pick it up, but hesitated. It wasn't natural. The wind cleared away the sand down to the base of the figure. A long bird curved around its thin trunk and a solid round ball of stone formed its base.

His curiosity overcame his apprehension, and he reached down to pick it up. As his fingers made contact, a burst of blinding white light overtook his vision. His ears rang with a high-pitched whine. After a moment, his sight and hearing returned, but he was no longer on the beach. He stood in the street a few blocks from the hospital. In front of him, an ancient stone archway rose up out of the ground, completely blocking the road. A stone pathway extended beyond.

He couldn't imagine that it had been there long. It would've blocked traffic, had there been any. He stepped towards it.

His vision burned to white again. After a moment, color returned. He now stood outside an old school. He'd seen it before but wasn't sure where. He remembered he'd been impressed by the high stone wall surrounding the school. In the street beside the wall, he saw another archway. This one, unlike the first, was made of white stone and seemed rather modern. At least the stones seemed almost perfectly cut. Yet, it too seemed completely out of place as it blocked the road.

The white returned. When it receded he found himself in yet another place. This time he was on a mountaintop in the middle of the day. A meadow stretched out in front of him. At the end of that meadow, a beautiful structure made of white stone sat, its spires leading his eyes up to the bright sky. The blue burned into white.

Then he saw his son crumpled on the wet forest floor. A wave of red light washed over him. His son opened his eyes, then stood up. The forest blanked to white again.

His son stood! He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his son stand on his own.

Raj's sight cleared, and he found himself back on the beach. A stabbing pain registered in his fingertips. He jerked his hand back from the glowing figure. His fingers were bleeding where he had touched it. He took a handkerchief out of his pocket, wrapped it around the figure and tucked it into his jacket.

-

Rinacht climbed onto a rock overlooking the beach. He could see Raj kneeling in the sand below.

"Mr. Handers!" he called.

His employer suddenly picked something up and put it into his pocket before climbing to his feet. Rinacht squinted, not sure if he was seeing clearly. It appeared the object Raj had found was glowing. Raj turned and walked away down the beach.

He must not have heard his call, Rinacht thought. So he hopped down off the rock and rushed to the stairway that led down to the beach.

Raj hurried through the thinly populated city streets. He knew where he wanted to be. He just wasn't sure of the way. He turned the corner and looked up. Things looked familiar. He walked around the side of the building to get a view of the open street. There, taking up more than half the road, was the archaic stone archway, just as he'd seen in the vision.

He pulled himself back behind the building and hid himself up against the wall, shaking his head. This was not good. To dream about it, to see it in your mind, sure, fine. But to see it there in front of you, while awake? That was a problem. He leaned out again, peering around the building. It was still there.

"How..." He took a deep breath to calm himself. There had to be some way of making sense of it. He'd have to get a closer look. Perhaps this was a trick of his mind, a latent image of some sort. He hurried to the archway. The stones, worn with age, stacked tightly without mortar, gave no impression of illusion. Proximity had only further solidified the reality of its presence. Perhaps to touch it would help, he thought.

He pushed hard against one of the stones, catching himself in case he fell through it. The stones were cold to his touch and held firmly against his weight. Either this truly was here, blocking the entire road, or he was simply insane. To confound further his dilemma with reality, as he stared through the stone arches, there was a pathway, made of large, irregularly shaped stones, cut into the small and well-worn cobblestone road. The pathway extended out the back and continued down the street. He was positive these larger stones were not there a moment ago.

He backed away and circled around to the front of the arch to look at the path from another angle. The path had disappeared without a sign of it ever having been there. He took a calming breath. Perhaps this was still part of his previous episode, part of some kind of odd dream.

He doubled back behind the arch and, sure enough, the pathway was still there. This would induce a migraine; he was sure of it. What would happen if he stepped through it? Would it remain when he tried to step on it, or was it like a mirage, always just out of reach?

He took a quick step through to see what would happen. His foot landed firmly on the first stone of the pathway. So this was not an illusion. He laughed to himself. Nor was the enormous stone archway blocking the road. Neither made sense to a rational mind.

It looked like he'd have to make a decision, as trying to prove or disprove the reality of this thing was pointless. He could walk away or walk through. He stared at it, imagining the outcomes of both scenarios. What was the worst that could happen? Well, he could die. There was always that possibility. He could be tortured.

And what was the best possible outcome?

He remembered what had led him to this point, the larger context of the experience, his overwhelming need to find a solution for his son. A moment later he found himself hurrying down the strange and unexplainable path.

-

Rinacht stopped and watched Raj from behind a corner. His employer stood in the middle of the street in front of him. He felt the automatic urge to call out to him but suppressed it. Raj had his hands up in the air as though he were leaning on something. Only there wasn't anything there. He then paced back and forth, circling around as though there were an object in the way. After what appeared to be a moment of deliberation, Raj turned and marched straight down the road.

Rinacht tried to add it up in his head. Raj found something highly unusual on the beach. Now here he was, wandering about the city in the middle of the night, pantomiming in the empty street. The worst had finally come, he feared, as he slipped into the dark and followed quietly behind.

-

Raj rushed down the path of rough-cut rocks, anxious to get to wherever it may lead. He rounded a corner and found a heavy stone wall rising up in front of him. The high wall extended a considerable distance in both directions. To his right, it wound to a large gated entrance. The entrance looked familiar. Then it came to him; this was the old school he'd recognized earlier.

If that were true then would he see a second archway, he wondered? His path turned down an alley beside the school wall. At the end of the alley, the path turned again. He raced down it and turned to follow the back of the wall.

About halfway to the next building, he found what he was looking for. A large white stone archway stretched half way across the road, making it difficult to proceed. He approached quickly, checking behind him to see if there was anyone around. The last thing he wanted was a crowd. Fortunately, the street was empty.

Up close this archway was quite different from the other. The white stone blocks were cut perfectly smooth and perfectly square. The stone emitted a glow like the little figurine he'd found. Cut into the stone on each pillar were two forms, one on each side, one male, one female. He studied their details. They weren't stooped over like the Zo. Neither were they squat and rounded like the Petra nor twisted and stretched like the Bota. They were unusual, to say the least, he thought.

The pathway beyond the arch seemed to be made of the same white stone. Not surprising, it seemed to be playing the same visual trick. When viewed from the side, the path was the same as the one he was on. From through the arch it became white and glowed.

The old school next to Raj sat on a high point in the city. Through the archway, he could see the street drop into the distant expanse of buildings and roads. He traced the glowing line of the path as it wound down into the city. It emerged on the other side and faded behind the green of the forest. Even from a distance he saw its bright glow peek in and out from under the trees as it climbed the mountain range. Finally, it broke beyond the trees and ended abruptly at the base of one of the high peaks.

Just beyond the path he could see a white building. He squinted. He shouldn't be able to see a building on the side of a mountain several hundred miles away, at night. This was making his head hurt, he thought, as he turned away.

Still, he'd come this far. Was this enough for him to reconsider? No, he supposed. He stepped forward through the archway. As he passed, his vision burned to white. After a disorienting moment of blindness, the flash receded, and he found himself standing on a mountain, below the peak at the end of the path. In front of him was the same white building he had seen from afar.

A bright light overtook him. A moment later he found himself standing in a room with soaring walls of white stone. He assumed he was inside the building he'd just been staring at. There were two sets of stairs on opposite sides of the room. One led up, and the other down.

As soon as he took notice of them, his body shifted. An instant later, he stood in the upper room beyond the stairs. In the center of the new room, he noticed a large basin of water. He moved closer again with just a thought. Below the surface of the water was an assortment of weapons and armor. One long sword was unsheathed, revealing a blinding white blade. Without thinking it, he reached in and took the sword.

A haze of white washed over him. A moment later Raj found himself in an open field. In front of him, a wall of soldiers advanced. He spun around. Another wall of men stood behind him, their eyes fixed on him, with their weapons half raised, waiting. He looked down. Held tightly in his hand was the long sword with the blade of white. His arms, chest, and legs were covered in armor, white glowing armor.

His body twisted unnaturally as it turned of its own accord to face the opposing army. Without issuing the command to his arm, he lifted the sword high into the air. His voice rang out with a horrible cry, and his legs bolted forward. His cry multiplied into a deafening roar by the thousands of men who followed behind him. An echo of that cry sounded from the hordes in front of him as they dashed forward.

He watched helplessly as death approached. His body refused to respond to his panic and flung itself full speed into peril.

His charge was interrupted by a blur of light. It faded and he was back on the street standing under the arch. After a moment of disorientation, he stepped back from under the arch.

"Crazy!" he muttered. "This is crazy!"

He turned and stumbled away down the street and into the safety of his own city.

-

Around the corner, hidden by the wall of the school, Rinacht watched Raj back up, turn, and disappear down the street.

"What did you find, my friend?"

Rinacht knelt down and placed his palm flat against one of the large stones that made up the school wall. His mind connected instantly, allowing his consciousness to flow throughout the large structure.

The Massive, uncut stones that formed the wall were close enough to their natural state, moved into place but otherwise untainted by the hand of a Zo or Botan, that their awareness was still strong. What Rinacht could feel through the larger stones was like an imprint. He recognized the pattern that Raj made. It was something he'd felt many times. But there was another pattern associated with Raj, something new. Something strong.

He tried to focus the awareness on that pattern, hoping to glean more detail. There was a great deal of energy in it. And... excitement. Although he didn't recognized it he realized, the stone did. He could feel the stones reaction to it. It was almost... happiness.

Rinach searched his memories for what could possibly have this kind of reaction with the stone. He wished he'd kept some of the books his grandfather had given him.

Lord Valance stared at the Clan Lord Ranth, a short and stubby Zoen man, who frantically paddled his squatty little legs to keep up with the group. Valance hated the man; he hated how much influence he had over the greater House of Clans; he hated that he had to invite him here to his largest, most profitable, orchard just to gain audience with his more powerful friends. It was insulting.

"Arrg!" The Clan Lord cried as he stumbled over a dead branch. Lord Valance wanted to laugh but kept it in. The sight of the man rolling around on the ground, trying to pick himself up, suddenly made his presence more tolerable.

An entourage of horticulturists, administrators, and security stopped to wait for the distinguished guest. The grey of broken, rotting branches had smothered what was left of a pleasant green grass. It was impossible to walk through it without keeping a constant eye on the ground.

"Why don't you have someone clear these out?" The Clan Lord demanded.

"We do." Lord Valance answered. "Almost every day."

After crossing through several rows of perfectly lined trees, the group approached a middle-aged botan woman in a red robe and her zoen assistant standing next to the trunk of a gnarled old tree. Its branches twisted into a dense canopy over them.

The woman walked around the wide trunk and placed her green hand gently on the bark. Her fingers and palm trembled then sank a few millimeters into the hard surface.

Lord Valance waited patiently as the woman stood with her eyes closed.

After a brief moment she turned to her assistant. "She's hungry. Low on magnates, triphan and sodiphan. Hydration level is sufficient."

The assistant flipped through his papers. "A32H10? She...

"Her name is Andreth."

"Sorry. It says Andreth just had her soil replenished last week."

"It's OK. Do it again." She turned and acknowledged the group for the first time. "My apologies."

Lord Valance extended a hand towards the woman. "Clansman, this is Doctor Bihinlem, our chief horticulturist and head Phi of the Sacrificial Order. She's been leading our alternatives research."

The Clansman smiled and nodded.

Lord Valance wasn't fond of the Sacrificial Order. They tried to exert control over things that didn't need to be controlled. As part of Order of the Red, they were specifically set apart to oversee the creation of Manea seedlings. If a Bota wanted to participate they had to go through the order, there was almost no alternative. That made it hard to negotiate with them.

"And this is our oldest." Lord Valance pointed a furry hand towards the canopy. "She produces more fruit than almost ten younger trees."

The Clan Lord gazed up into the fruit laden branches above them. The coverage was thin compared to the younger trees they'd just passed. The tree could easily have held two or three times the count.

"How quickly is she declining?" Lord Valance asked Doctor Bihinlem.

"Twenty percent per year now."

"Twenty percent?" The rate had increased since he'd last reviewed the numbers. "And this is the highest rate?"

"Yes. She's the worst case scenario. She was the first to show the decline and has so far contracted the farthest."

The Clan Lord stared at the old tree then redirected his gaze to the Doctor. "OK. So what are we saying? The rest of the trees are going to hit a twenty percent decline rate when they get as old as this tree?"

"With some margin of error, yes, we believe so."

"So you have to tear these out and plant new trees? I'm not sure I understand..."

"The life cycle of the trees isn't the concern. The distribution of our production load across the age range of our trees is what concerns us. These relatively few older trees produce almost half of our total yield. As Lord Valance said, one produces as much as ten younger trees."

"OK. I'm still not sure I see the problem. Won't all your young trees grow into large, high producing, old trees?"

"Yes, naturally that should occur..."

"What do you mean, should?"

"It'd be better if we showed you." Lord Valance motioned for the Clansman to follow him, as he carefully stepped over the fallen dead branches from the giant tree.

He led the group through more rows of the massive old growth trees. It seemed so strange to him; they were such immense creatures; they looked so healthy and strong. In many ways, they were the symbol of his vast empire, his power and vitality.

The change was abrupt as they crossed over into the younger section of the orchard. From one row to the next, the young trees were nearly a quarter the size of the older. Their branches weren't even tall enough to step under.

"These are the oldest of the next expansion of trees. They were planted a decade or so after the older ones." Lord Valance explained.

"Only ten years younger? They can grow that much in ten years?" The Clan Lord asked.

"No they can't. The size difference between these and the older represents what would typically be fifty years of growth."

"I don't follow."

"These trees, for all intents and purposes, are as large as they'll ever be." Lord Valance explained.

"But that's..."

"The simple matter is this," he paused, "For some reason that we cannot explain, our younger trees are not growing to what we would consider a mature size."

"Has this ever happened before?"

"Not that we're aware."

"Have other orchards been affected in this way?"

Lord Valance took a moment before he answered. "There are no orchards that have escaped this problem."

"All of your orchards? That's more than half of our supply of Manea!"

He cleared his throat. "Not all of our orchards. All of the world's orchards. All Manea orchards have been affected."

"What?" the Clan Lord stammered. "How could that be?"

"We're trying to understand that."

"So what does all this mean? Have you planted enough new trees to make up for the fact that they don't make as much as they used to? Is that what we're up against? Planting a lot more trees?"

"Well, planting more trees isn't that simple. Each new seedling requires a bota donor. The supply of donors is limited."

The Sacrificial Order either kept the numbers down on purpose or honestly had a hard time attracting them. The process was intense. A donor had to be willing to graft a seedling onto one of their tendrils and then carry it for the first ten years of its life. Once ready, the seedling and tendril had to be removed and planted.

"For those who are willing, it is an honor." Dr Bihinlem interjected. "But yes the Order takes the preparation involved very seriously. It takes time."

Lord Valance smiled, then continued. "More trees also mean more maintenance, more Zo laborers and more soil imports from the Petra." His Zoen teams had to dig up and replace the soil around each tree once a month. They also had to pollinate each flower by hand.

"As the problem progresses, we're getting less and less Manea for the same input. At a certain point, that becomes economically unsustainable."

"Right. Right." The Clan Lord nodded.

"To further compound the problem, Manea trees do not grow everywhere. They're strangely fickle. We've been unable to discover any substantial new land that will support an orchard. We've pursued this avenue vigorously, I assure you. And if we had missed anything our competitors would surely have found it."

"So as the older, higher producing, trees reach the end of their lifespan, not only are the younger trees too small to make up the difference but you can't plant any more of them?" the Clan Lord asked.

"Yes."

"But what about grafting the plants or cross breeding. Can't something else be done?"

"Yes. We've made some progress in that area," Doctor Bihinlem answered. "That's my area of specialty, alternate breeds."

"And?"

"The grafts have potential, but even if we had a perfect tree now, it would take twenty years to wipe the land and grow a mature orchard."

"But we don't have twenty years, right? Is that where this is going? How long do we have? Five years?" the Clan Lord asked.

"Six months to a year," Lord Valance answered. "Before the decline in the old trees causes major disruptions in supply."

"Your business will be ruined!"

"If the decline continues at that pace, there won't be anyone left to sell to."

"Lets not be overly dramatic. Besides, what do you expect me to do about any of this?" the Clan Lord spat, not making any effort to hide his outrage.

"Talk to the other Clan Lords. We have a plan." Lord Valance replied calmly.

-

Emret heard the click of the door that signaled someone was coming in. He wiggled and pushed himself up to a sitting position in time to see Moslin shut the door behind her.

"How we doing today?" she asked.

"Same as yesterday..." he adjusted his blankets, "...and the day before, and you know... the day before."

Moslin smiled and sat down on the bed next to him. She set the large green book down beside her. "Do you want to read a little today?"

He let out a depressed sigh. "No, not really."

"No?" she said in surprise. "You've been hounding me for the last two weeks to read at every available moment. Now suddenly you don't want to read?"

"Sorry. I don't feel like it today."

"I sense a little discouragement," she said sarcastically, trying to lighten the mood.

"No, I'm fine," he answered, not catching the sarcasm. "Maybe we could read this one for a bit." He leaned over to the side table and tried to grab a smaller red book.

She turned and picked it up for him. "Ah, we're finally getting around to reading one of the books your dad bought for you. He'll be happy his effort didn't go to waste."

He forced a smile and nodded his head.

"You don't seem that excited about this book either."

"What's to be excited about? It's just something somebody else made up."

She readjusted her position to face him more directly. "Books aren't just something somebody made up." She paused. "Well, maybe some of them are but not all of them."

He looked up at her, the first sign of life showing on his face since she arrived. "So how do you tell if the book you're reading wasn't just made up by whoever wrote it?"

"Well..." she took a moment. "There are some books that are based on researched fact. Schoolbooks, for example, they show you at the end of the chapter where they got their information, so that you can double-check it.

"Biographies, for another example, are about certain people's lives. Usually based on interviews with the person or people who knew him or her. Then there are historians who study records of events in the past and write about them.

"And then, of course, there are books like this one..." She held up the smaller red book, "...that are stories based on someone's thoughts and experiences, and even though they may not be something that actually happened, they can still be terribly meaningful."

He squinted at her skeptically.

"The people that write them do so in a way to express something that they've found to be real and meaningful to them. But instead of just telling you in a text book way that a+b=c, they take you through a life experience with them and show you what it's like to have that happen. You get to draw your own meaning from sharing that experience."

He furrowed his brow, trying to grasp the idea.

"Say I were to ask you what it would be like to raise two twin boys. What would you say?"

He looked up at her, then glanced away. "I don't know."

"Well, if you wanted to know what it'd be like to be a parent of two little babies at once you could read someone's story about it. They would take you through the experience of childbirth, staying up all night with them, and trying to figure out how to feed them when both were hungry at the same time. The parents could share how much fun they had watching them both learn to hold their heads up, and then sit up by themselves, and eventually crawl. Even though you're just a boy yourself, when you read the story you get a sense of what its like to be a parent."

He nodded his head. "I think that makes sense."

She put the red book aside and picked up the larger tattered green book. "But it's my guess that you're not talking about books in general. I'm guessing that you want to know about this book in particular. Whether or not this book is actual fact or simply made up."

He stared back at her, waiting patiently for her to continue.

"Are there sources of information in this book that can be verified? Possibly. Are there historical records that could be cross-referenced? It would take a little work. It's possible. Are there scholars who could tell us if the book is consistent with what they believe the historical facts are? Maybe.

"But really, your concerns and questions aren't actually about this book either."

They aren't? He blinked in surprise. He was pretty sure they were.

"This is about you trying to wrap your head around what's happening to you. This is about you being thrown towards the edge of a cliff, and you not knowing why, or who's doing it. This is about you wanting this all to make sense.

"This book has some ideas about all that. Can they be proven, cross-referenced and verified? No. That makes your dad uncomfortable. He doesn't want you to get wrapped up in something that isn't true. I can understand that."

She put the green book down on the side table. "So it's your choice. The book offers the idea that the world is not lost in chaos; that we haven't simply been thrown into the wind, waiting to see where we might land; that there is order in everything; that there are patterns that extend beyond this world and this life, though we may not see or understand them; that we are not just on a globe, hurtling through space at a million miles per hour, completely out of control, waiting to crash into the next immovable object in our path.

"If those ideas appeal to you, then read the book. No one can tell you if it's right or wrong. You have to decide that for yourself. It's up to you to find the meaning in the book by experiencing the stories as you read them."

He tilted his head to the side, then asked, "The story about the boy who fights the monster?"

"Yes?"

"How was that story about life being full of order and purpose?"

"Very good question," she admitted. "How does your own life fit into that order and purpose? How can that story help you understand your own relationship to this life? The story is a repeating pattern. Not a historical account of something that happened just once. It explains a pattern that we may fit into, in one way or another, and in different ways at different times. The structure of that pattern may help us to understand the structure of our own life, the choices that are available to us. Sometimes we are not even aware of them until they are pointed out."

"This boy, who's called up to fight the monster, what choice does that represent? What great order does reading that give to my life?"

"I can't answer that question for you," she said quietly.

He looked down, not happy with her answer

"When you were excited about reading it, what was it that you liked so much?"

He looked at her firmly, moisture forming in his eyes. "The boy wins! Everybody says he'll die, but he doesn't. He wins."

"Well, there you go." She patted his leg. "That pattern has meaning to you."

-

Raj clicked open the door to his son's room and pushed through, finding a very familiar sight. Moslin sat on the bed next to Emret. He looked around for the over-sized green book she usually had open but didn't see it. They both looked up at his arrival.

"Hi Dad."

"Where's Rinacht?" Raj asked.

"We sent him to look for you," Emret replied.

"Oh." That was strange, Raj thought. He wondered where he'd gone.

He set some pastries down on the corner of the table and moved in closer to the bed to give Emret a kiss. On the side table behind Moslin, he noticed the big green book. They were still reading the same book, he thought.

"What're you reading?"

"We were actually just talking this time. For a change," Moslin answered.

"Oh?" Raj said, his attention still focused on the book.

She got up off the bed and grabbed her book.

"Hey!" Emret protested.

"Sorry, it's your father's turn for some attention." She patted him on the head then smiled at Raj.

"You don't look so good. Everything OK?" she asked.

Raj didn't meet her gaze, just stared at the book. They were just talking? But she still brought the same book to read even though he'd politely asked her to read other things more times than he could remember. She noticed that he was staring and followed his eyes down to the book.

"Can I talk to you for a moment," he asked, motioning her towards the door.

"Sure," she answered hesitantly, before following him out the door.

Raj waited for her to pass then closed the door slowly, waiting for the click. She turned and leaned up against the wall holding the book behind her.

"I know, I know. You want him to read other things."

"I think maybe if you didn't bring it with you it might be easier for him to choose other things to read," he interjected.

"No, you're right. You're right. It's just... I have a hard time saying no to him. You know? He's stuck in that bed and it's the only thing that seems to make him happy."

"Well I guess that's kind of the problem. I didn't want him getting obsessed with it. Looks like it's a little too late."

"I know, I'm sorry."

He shifted his weight and paused for a breath. "What is it that's so appealing?"

She flipped open the book and stopped on a two page illustration of a young Zoen boy holding a white glowing sword.

"Well, the stories he's most interested in are all about a young boy who's sort of the least likely candidate for the hero yet he ends up becoming the hero anyway."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Raj admitted.

"He's small and gangly and doesn't really have a whole lot going for him. Yet, when his village is threatened by a demon, he's the only one who volunteers to fight it."

"Courage. Thats good," he added.

"Everyone thinks the boy will fail, that he'll die. But he doesn't. He wins, and he lives."

"How does he do that?"

"Well... The story says that he had a firm belief that no matter what he was up against, if he trusted in the power of the Reds, they would deliver him. And in the story, despite facing impossible circumstances, the Reds not only saved him but helped him turn away the demon."

She finished the story without making eye contact, as though she already knew he'd disapprove of the conclusion.

"So the boy overcomes death by divine power?" he asked, agitation already creeping into his voice.

"Well, it's symbolic..."

"You don't see the problem with this?"

"No, I don't."

"What happens when the things in that story don't happen for him in real life? He's building hope and expectations in something that can't possibly happen."

"The expectations and relationships in the story go beyond life and death. If the boy in the story had died in the end, he still would have succeeded. That was the point of the story."

"That doesn't make any sense," Raj argued.

"Because he trusted in the Reds, they changed who the boy was. They helped him become more than he ever could've on his own. They gave him courage, confidence, strength. If he had died at the end, it wouldn't have mattered because the change had already happened. He would've faced that moment of death with a hero's heart, regardless of the outcome.

"What your son needs, what your son wants, more than anything, what he's searching desperately to find, is some courage to face his own death. He's scarred, Raj. He doesn't know what's going to happen to him. So I bring him these stories every day because he tells me that when he reads them he isn't afraid."

"Moslin, this is what you get out of these stories. This is your interpretation. Emret is just a boy. He doesn't understand that things are not always meant in a literal way. If he became obsessed about a story where the boy is saved from death through a miraculous power and then suddenly you noticed his fear had gone away, wouldn't it be possible he's just putting the two together? I mean, how do you know what's going on in his mind? How can you say he isn't thinking that if he believes hard enough he'll be saved too? And that's why he isn't afraid.

"How long before he figures out the miracle isn't going to happen for him. What do I tell him then? Can't you see how much more difficult this is making things? Not just for him? But for me?"

"I'm doing the best I can to help him." her voice trembled.

"Well I don't think you're helping. In fact, I think it would be best if you stopped helping him all together." Raj turned away. "I'm going to ask that you not be assigned to my son any longer."

Moslin's mouth dropped a little. She turned and cleared her throat trying to regain composure. "You only get one chance at this with your son. Don't screw it up!"

He watched her storm down the hall and immediately felt the pain of regret. He could've been more delicate. He wanted to call her back, to apologize, but it was too late.

Lord Valance stared through the thick glass separating him from a plain white room beyond. A hunched creature with thick folds of bare skin, long claws and long white fangs, raced back and forth from wall to wall, keeping its attention on Lord Valance through the glass.

Without warning it leapt at the glass, snapping its teeth viciously. The impact reverberated through the room with a sickening boom. The creature crumpled into the glass from the force of the impact, its face and neck twisting and contorting. Then it fell to the floor.

Lord Valence and his two companions jerked back.

A doctor in a white lab coat stepped up behind the men. "Gentlemen."

Lord Valance turned, then smiled as he recognized the man. "Hello Doctor Brite."

The Doctor turned his attention to the creature. "From what we can tell, the damage is irreversible."

Valance turned back to the glass as well, stepping forward as the creature slowly climbed to its feet.

"How many?" he asked.

"This is the first Zo to completely lose his binding. Half a dozen more aren't far behind. We've recorded nearly a thousand that have begun to show signs," the doctor answered.

The twisted creature snarled at Valance and other healthy, fur covered Zoen men.

"Why is it affecting the population so unevenly?" Valance asked.

"The binding is a fascinating thing, really. The chemical components of Manea that we think create and maintain the bond are elusive. They seem to affect each person a little differently. As a result we believe some are simply more sensitive to the change in purity than others."

"I see." Valance said with his arms folded.

"Now that we've had enough time to track the data, we've compared the rise in 'incidents' with each incremental increase in dilution of the Manea supply. We think the current rate of sixty percent concentration has caused a big spike," the doctor said.

"Where would you feel more comfortable?" Valance asked.

"At eighty percent the number of affected individuals was far less noticeable."

Lord Valance understood the Doctors concern. People today weren't familiar with what it was like to become unbound. It had been hundreds of years since it was commonplace. Most had never seen it or know anyone who had seen it.

"I think with anything lower than eighty percent purity you're going to have enough people turn into this," the Doctor pointed to the hairless beast, "that it'd cause a wide spread panic."

"Eighty percent dilution isn't going to buy us much time," Valance concluded, then turned to Lord Whiting. "Call the Clan Lords. We need to talk."

He glanced back at the doctor. "Thank you for your diligence. I'd appreciate your continued discretion."

"Of course," the doctor said with a forced smile.

-

Lord Valance and his companions, Lord Whiting and Barnus, followed a house servant and an accompanying array of clan animals through a vast, dimly lit chamber. They tried to keep their distance from the animals.

Domesticated under the strict control of clans or not, he still found the presence of large cats unnerving. And typically, large clan cats weren't kept for cleaning or running messages. They had one purpose socially, and that was aligned with their strengths in nature. They were adept killers.

There were at least three leopards and half a dozen male lions. Two panthers pushed up from behind. Valance brushed his palm against the back of one as she passed. Normally, it was unacceptable and potentially dangerous to touch the animals of others. It interrupted their communication patterns which could trigger a defensive attack. He felt the panther's agitation immediately and worked quickly to sooth her mind. He needed to know what kind of instructions their greeting party had been given.

The half second of contact as the panther passed was just enough to gather that they were merely precautionary. The cats weren't going to attack unless he posed a threat. The High Clan Lord Mar wasn't planning on murdering him. But why such drastic precaution? What did Mar think he'd come to do, rob him?

The panther he touched snarled and lashed her large front paw at a golden furred lioness in front of her. The lioness turned, growled and clawed back.

The house servant stopped. "Alexia, no!" he reprimanded the unruly panther. "Come." He opened a large leather pouch hanging from his waist, pulled out a large piece of dried Manea and pushed it into her mouth. He placed his palm on the back of her head and held it firmly.

After a moment, he turned to Valance. "My apologies," he pushed through the pack of cats and continued down the chamber.

The Clans had grown in power dramatically in recent years. That was apparent in how they treated their guests. Almost every merchant and skilled tradesmen had joined their respective clan. They now represented all the major economic groups of the society. His industry was the exception. There was no Clan associated with the production of Manea. He was sure High Clan Lord Mar was laboring diligently to change that.

Mar had gradually consolidated a position of power out of a loose association of the several hundred Zo clans. They were now unified under his leadership in a single governing High Clan. Because the lower clans represented the employment of the majority of the population, the High Clan enjoyed as much, if not more, political power than the official Senate.

The lower clans elected ten Clan Lords to join the High Clan leadership through what Mar claimed was a fully transparent democratic process. But Valance had never seen the elected Clan Lords disagree with Mar on anything significant.

He turned his attention back to counting his footsteps. He liked to know how far he was from an exit at any given moment. Especially in the dark, surrounded by a pack of deadly animals.

The chamber they crossed was impressive. Massive stone columns rose into the blackness above them, holding some sort of stone arched ceiling, he guessed. Either the room was too big for them to light adequately or they wanted their visitors to feel a bit uncomfortable. Probably a bit of both. He noted the red flags and other red decor displaying the crest of the High Clan. Other than those few bits of color, the hall was austere. No furniture, rugs or anything to indicate the hall's use. No windows either, which made it slightly suspicious and more uncomfortable.

He thought it remarkable that after so many years in dealing with the Lord Mar that he'd never actually been to his home. Mar had always come to him.

They crossed the threshold into a brightly lit and comfortably furnished room. Here, the ceiling was clearly visible as well as a thin balcony that circled the room. A small scattering of men stood watch behind the balcony railing. In the far corner Mar reclined against an impressive array of over sized, multi colored pillows. His curly blond fur puffed out of the ends of a purple evening robe. He held a pipe in one hand and a book in the other. A confusing message, Valance thought. Apparently, his visit didn't warrant enough attention for the man put on clothes. And yet enough attention make sure Valance was aware of his security.

The servant crossed the room in front of them to announce their arrival. The High Clan Lord didn't respond in the slightest. His pipe popped into his mouth for a suck while his gaze remained fixed on his book.

"Have a seat," he muttered.

Valance gritted his teeth. "Where are the other Clan Lords?"

Mar dropped his book and looked up. "I'll hear what you have to say. But I can't compel anyone else to listen."

That was a lie of course. If Mar had requested, the other Clan Lords were indeed compelled to attend. Mar was obviously not as sympathetic to him as he'd hoped. He thought the disturbing evidences that he had sent to Mar via Clan Lord Ranth would have persuaded him of the seriousness of the situation. Instead, Mar greeted him as though he'd come asking for money. There must be some sort of political maneuvering behind this. Political maneuvering was the exact thing he had hoped to avoid.

"Clan Lord Ranth presented you the report from my orchards, I hope," Valance asked.

"I've read the report, yes."

"And the medical review of the incident at the hospital?"

"Of course," he said turning back to his book.

Valance stared at him with a look of consternation. He was not used to being treated in this way. In fact, he didn't think he'd been treated with such disrespect since he was a child.

"You'll forgive me Clan Lord, but you seem a little more at ease about this than I anticipated."

"At ease? You insult me. I am fully aware and alarmed by this turn of events. What would you like me to do? Throw myself to the floor while I scream and cry and beg for your help? Is that what you came here for, to see me make a mockery of myself?"

Valance smiled. The Clan Lord showed his intentions. They were not here to talk about how to deal with the crisis. They were here to jockey for position.

"Let me ask you this, my good and kind Lord Valance. How long have you been aware of this developing shortage? And why have you chosen today as the day to make us aware of it?"

"I assure you, we have not delayed in bringing this to your attention."

"Haven't you? These are your orchards. This crisis has developed under your direct supervision. If you are only now aware of it, then I beg your pardon, but you're a bigger fool than I supposed."

Lord Barnus pushed aside his robe to reveal the hilt of his sword. He grasped it firmly. Valance shot him a glance. Barnus relaxed his grip.

"What is this?" Mar jumped to his feet. "You come into my house bearing weapons?"

The men watching from the balcony drew and aimed their crossbows.

"I apologize for my overly zealous companions. I must travel with protection at all times as I'm sure you can understand."

Mar stepped towards Valance, pushing his large protruding belly into Valance's thin waist.

"This problem is a reflection of what you've become Lord Valance! Your own incompetence has allowed this to happen. And now you come here expecting us to shoulder the burden of consequence? You want us to help you fix this. Yet, while you've sat in your soft palace high above the people, forgetting your duty to the those who put you in that palace, we've remained here on the ground without missing a day of work. No disruption of service. The mechanics of this city have remained in perfect order."

Valance stepped back.

"I applaud you for your diligent, uninterrupted, service to this city. It's this reason, in fact, that we've come to you first. We've prepared a mitigation plan to give us the time to grow the needed alternate supply without causing irreparable damage to this city and every other city. You and your clans are essential to this plan. Not in an effort to shift burden to you but to offer you shelter from the storm that is most certainly to come. Because you provide essential services to this city, the purpose of our plan is to ensure your services are not interrupted."

Mar relaxed slightly, dropping his arms to his side and unclenching his fists.

"I will hear your plan."

Lord Whiting handed Mar a thin booklet.

"Here are the details. To put it simply, the supply shortage is projected to reach fifty percent within two years. The markets, left on their own, would starve the poor to feed the fearful rich. Everyone who could afford it would hoard to protect their future. Everyone else would... struggle. You and I both know that if those with money were the only ones left to survive then our society would not. As a group, those with wealth do not possess the full gamut of experience, practical knowledge and skill required to maintain a functioning society. The wealthy need the tradesmen and the clansmen.

"The wealthy will ensure their own survival. We need not worry about them. The tradesmen and clansmen, however, need to be protected. We must have a rationing plan that evaluates the most vital parts of our economy and protects them. Our food and water systems, transportation, animal controllers, these are the things on which life depends. They must be protected from the whims of the market."

Mar took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, whistling through his nose. He stared pensively at the ground. "I'm inclined to agree with you."

"I've called a hearing before the Senate. Will you support me?" Valance asked.

"In return for our support you will protect the interests of the clans in this rationing system?" Mar asked.

"That is what I'm proposing."

"And it'll be you who makes this judgments on who is to live and who is to die? You will say this Zo is vital, and this Zo is not?"

"Not me personally. But I will oversee it." Valance said.

"And what if the Senate approves your plan but does not approve you as the manager of it? There is unprecedented risk in this rationing. Whomever we support in this action must be the sure candidate to win Senate appointment. If we tied our boats to the losing team, the potential repercussions would be unimaginable.

"I will speak plainly to you Lord Valance because I feel we must be perfectly clear on this point. While I believe your plan has merit, I do not believe you are the man to bring it to the Senate. I do not believe you would win popular support. My friend, you are not the young man I once knew, and quite honestly, feared.

"I suggest that you and I both align ourselves with another Senator, someone already strong enough to gain the necessary support. Allow that person to present the measure. I have a few names I could suggest."

-

Outside Clan lord Mar's estate, a servant opened the door to a silky black carriage as Lord Valance, Barnus and Whiting approached.

Lord Whiting sat forward as Valance and Barnus settled into their seats. The Carriage driver closed the door. A moment later they felt the jolt of motion.

"Three of the Clans will support any plan we put forward," Lord Whiting began.

Lord Valance took in the information as he tapped his foot impatiently.

"Three are middle ground, which means they won't go against their own. The other four are against us," Lord Barnus finished.

Valance sank further into the soft leather of his seat. "The Senate review will be difficult." He let out an exhausted breath.

His mind pulled back to the conversation with the Clan Lord Mar. It was political maneuvering at its finest. The Clans would spare no opportunity to reposition themselves with greater advantage. They'd agree to his plan but not to his leadership?

He'd been foolish to assume political aspirations would've been set aside in light of the potential crisis. Foolish, yes, but he felt it was more than that. This was the first real attempt to exercise his influence in a great while. The first time he'd had to ask anyone for anything. The asking was bad enough, the result of that asking was horrible.

Twenty years ago, no man would have dared directly oppose him the way the High Clan Lord just had. Sure they might've talked in quiet corners, rallied numbers to mount an opposition, but they'd faced him as a group. This single man had called him weak to his face and simultaneously proved it at the same time.

How did this happen?

Going up against the Senate now seemed like a complete waste of time. Or worse, it could further expose his lack of influence. Those outside the inner circles of government may still respect and fear him. A public display of disrespect could destroy whatever standing he may have left. That would have a directly negative impact on his business dealings, and his ability to negotiated contracts and acquire more land at a favorable price.

If his plans were to be effective, he'd need to start putting things into place now. There was no time for this political battle. Couldn't Mar see he was trying to avoid catastrophe, the collapse of their society?

For now, he'd have to risk calling a hearing with the Senate. He should at least have that much influence left. In the meantime, he'd have to start putting together a plan to circumvent their authority. There had to be a way to get around them.

"We've received," Lord Barnus interrupted, "information that might be of relevance."

Valance continued tapping his foot, half-listening.

"Someone came forward, "Barnus continued, "albeit, asking for money, but seemed to have very specific information about the Token. He knew exactly what it looked like."

Valance looked up. His foot stopped.

Raj pushed aside a pile of papers to make room on the small table for a plate of snack cakes he'd brought. The hospital room was so small it was hard to keep it from getting cluttered.

He was a little more formally dressed today, wearing a full evening suit, complete with fancy pointed shoes. He hoped it'd help in the event his in-laws showed up unannounced again. For some, respect began with apparel.

"Good morning. Sorry I'm a little late." He tidied up the rest of the table.

"Emret?" He turned towards the unusually quiet hospital bed.

Empty!

That's odd, he thought. He didn't remember any scheduled appointments this morning. He peeked under the bed. Nothing. Was he really that distracted that he'd forget a doctor's appointment? Emret wouldn't take it well if he had.

He pushed open the bathroom door. Again nothing. Maybe they pulled him out to clean the room or change the bed sheets?

He stopped at the nurses' desk down the hall where a plump middle aged Zo women sat behind several stacks of papers, chatting with another nurse in the hallway. The nurse at the desk was covered in deep golden brown fur. She had long fluffy tufts on her cheeks and a shorter than typical Zoen nose that added to her overall roundness.

"Excuse me," Raj interrupted.

She broke from her conversation and looked over at him, obviously annoyed. "Yes?"

"My son Emret isn't in his room. Could you tell me where he might be?"

"Emret? Let me check." She sorted through a stack of folders on the desk, stopped at one and pulled it out. After a quick glance at the pages she added, "his only appointment for today is later this evening. He should be there."

She put the folder back and smiled.

"Well, he isn't in there." He stared back and waited.

She folded her arms. "I'm sorry, I don't know where else he'd be."

"OK, which nurse is assigned to him right now?"

She looked up at a large chalk board on the wall with columns of names. "That would be Moslin, but..." She paused.

"But?" Raj said, raising his brow.

"She hasn't shown up for her shift yet."

The nurse in the hallway stepped forward. "Oh, I was supposed to tell you that she was gonna come in late today. She had a church meeting."

"So who's covering her shift?" The nurse at the desk asked.

"I told her I would."

"When was the last time you checked on Emret?" Raj asked her.

She turned toward the board on the wall with the names and giggled. "Oh. I guess I didn't see him on her list."

The nurse in front of Raj suddenly looked confused, then concerned. She turned back to Raj.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Handers. Let me find out who saw him last and at what time."

"Did Moslin come in at all today?" Raj asked the other.

"She did. She came in for a few minutes, just to grab a few things." She answered.

Raj took the card out of his wallet that Moslin had given him earlier. On the back was a schedule of church services. Sure enough there was one mentioned this morning. Maybe she took him with her.

"Thank you ladies. I'll be back later."

"But Mr. Handers..." the nurse in front of him called after him.

-

He wound through the streets quickly, following the directions on the back of the card. He turned the last corner to find the ancient stone church rising above him. Then his stomach sank as the realization hit. Starting on each side of the church, a high stone wall stretched to the end of the block in both direction. It was the same high stone wall that he came to after the beach just a few nights before. The school grounds! This church sat on the back side of it. A sudden wave of anger flashed over him. What possible connection could the church and this school have with his son? With Moslin?

He wandered past the large stone columns of the Church's foyer and stopped beside the oversized double doors that led into the chapel.

The interior revealed a more traditional botan style construction. A tight network of twisting roots and branches rose in wide curls to form the walls, ceiling, and structural archways. Thick vines grew from the floor in swirling decorative patterns that swept across the width of the room to form the pews. A sea of green Botan heads rustled in unison to the words of an elderly Cleric who stood at the far end of the chapel delivering his sermon.

Raj scanned the back of the crowd for Moslin. It was impossible to tell from behind. Botans, he thought in contempt, had too much natural camouflage. A fan of leafy green tendrils sprang out of the backs and heads of everyone there.

He moved quietly to the rear of the congregation and took a seat. His eyes moved over the crowd again. Nothing. Where was she? She had to be here. Nowhere else made sense.

After the services concluded, the congregation filtered past, allowing him to get a clear view of each face. The crowd started to thin, yet he still hadn't seen her. After the last of them passed, save a few who were still standing by the pews talking, it was clear that she wasn't there. Where in the world had she taken him? He relaxed his clenched fist in an effort to temper his anger.

He made his way through the last lingering groups to the front where the Botan Cleric was still gathering his papers. He looked up as Raj approached.

"What can I do for you, my friend?" the Cleric asked.

"I'm sorry, this may seem a little out of place but... did you see a young Botan woman with a thirteen year old Zo boy in this morning service?"

"See? No. But we do keep records of our congregation. Why do you ask?"

Raj fidgeted with his shirt nervously. "My son is missing. I think that this woman..."

"I see." The Cleric put down his papers. "Do you know her name?"

"Moslin Verdu and my son's name is Emret."

The Cleric stared at him, his brow furrowed. "Moslin Verdu? You're sure?"

"She's my son's nurse, you see. She invited me here earlier and I thought she might've brought my son."

"Might I suggest we continue this conversation somewhere a little more private?" The Cleric gestured towards a door in a nearby corner of the chapel.

The Cleric had strong, friendly eyes, accented by a prominent brow and slightly sunken cheeks. He still had smooth pale green skin, good posture, and thin strong limbs. He was of the age where time still added to his distinguished appearance. He pulled open a thick door made of spiraling tan branches that criss-crossed in several layers of beautifully intricate patterns. He motioned for Raj to go in first.

A young Botan girl, a few years younger than Emret, sat in a chair by the corner window, reading.

"Sinesh, could you wait in the hall for just a moment?" the Cleric asked.

The circumference of the small room was lined with bookshelves. In front of the shelves, as apparently there wasn't enough shelving, more books were piled on the floor. A large desk filled up almost the rest of the space. There were two chairs crammed against each side of the desk.

Both the desk and the chairs were crafted in the Botan style. The wood was grown to create a single complex shape for each. One of the legs of the desk dropped into a hole in the floor that was filled with dirt. The desk was still alive. It made Raj curious. The school itself was old. It could've been built a hundred years ago. But the desk was grown in a different style. It looked new, or gently worn. Did the school have craftsmen able to grow such things here in the school? Or did they import all their furniture? How would they import a living desk? He thought the Botan culture was fascinating. What were the rules governing their trade guilds? Could any of that be done here? He always wondered how much Botan cultured survived in the city.

Sinesh picked up her bag and book and left.

"Thanks dear," the Cleric said with a smile.

Raj stood next to the empty chair but didn't sit. He was still fascinated by the intensity of the clutter.

"I take it, you know Moslin," he said without looking at the Cleric.

"Yes I do." The Cleric squeezed around his large desk and sat in his formal chair. "She's my daughter."

Raj turned to the Cleric.

"Master Cleric Bedic Verdu," Cleric Bedic extended a hand of greeting.

Raj shook it. "Your daughter? I had no idea she was the..."

Bedic let out a grunt sort of laugh. "If you had would that've changed the way you spoke to her last night?"

Raj stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"She came by my home, upset. We had a nice conversation about what happened."

"Listen, I like your daughter. She's been really kind to my son." He noticed a large book on a small waist high table next to a shelf. The cover of the book, partly covered in papers, appeared to be an illustration of something similar to the carving he found at the beach. He stepped towards the book.

"But at the same time, she refuses to respect my wishes in some important areas regarding his care. As a parent, I can't tolerate that."

"Oh?"

Raj slid the papers aside to reveal the full cover of the book. It was an image of the carving. He was right! What would that be doing here? He wondered.

"She won't stop reading him a book that influences how he perceives his illness."

Bedic got up and scooted over to the book that had attracted Raj's attention. "I see."

"It's deceptive and unfair. When he realizes it isn't true it's going to be incredibly destructive."

"So you asked her to stop reading the book, and in retaliation, she kidnapped your son? That's a pretty drastic reaction, don't you think?"

"I didn't say she kidnapped him. I... I can't find either of them. The other nurses said she came here this morning."

Bedic moved in to pick up the book, forcing Raj to back out of the way. Bedic continued to a nearby shelf and slid it into an empty spot.

"I sympathize with your situation. I can't imagine the panic you must feel, missing a child like this." He stepped to the door and opened it.

"I think in this case, your emotions are your enemy. You're grabbing whole-heartedly onto the first possibility that comes to mind. I suggest you go back and collect as many hard facts as possible. When my daughter returns from wherever she went to blow off steam from your argument, I'll have her contact you." He stepped out the door. "If you'll excuse me, I need to attend to my granddaughter. You remember the way out?"

Raj let out a frustrated sigh and followed him to the door. He supposed the old man was right. Perhaps he'd been a little quick in forming his conclusions. It was a little early to know what happened. But at this point he sure could use some help. If Moslin had nothing to do with it, he'd bet she'd be willing to help look for him.

He watched Bedic and his granddaughter holding hands as they disappeared down the stone hallway. The image brought a wave of unpleasant emotion. What if he never saw his son again? He quickly pushed the thoughts from his mind. He'd find Emret. He had too. But... What then...

He watched Bedic and his granddaughter turn the corner, then glanced back at the open door to Bedic's office. He wanted to look at Bedic's book. He wanted to see what it said about the carving. There had to be some rational explanation for the things he'd seen. He slipped back into the room and over to the shelf where Bedic had put the book. With a quick scan, he located it and put it back onto the pedestal.

After a quick peek out the door to make sure he'd be alone for a few more minutes, he hurried back to pedestal. On the way, his arm brushed past a sloppy stack of papers leaning precariously near the edge of the large desk. He turned in time to see them sliding off and made a vain grab at them, but it was too late. They hit the ground with a loud smack.

He cursed under his breath and listened for a moment for any reaction outside the room. Nothing. He looked at the door then back at the book. The image of the carving was clear and unmistakable. What is this thing? He wondered as he traced his finger over it.

He flicked the cover open and flipped through the first couple of pages. Lots of small print. Then a full page illustration. He stopped. A beautifully executed pen and ink depiction of a small animal with bright red fur sitting in the underbrush of a thick pine forest. Next to it was a small plant with bright red branches and leaves. Below them was an area of bright red soil. Red was the only colored ink. A caption on the page labeled them as: The Three Reds.

He turned the page.

It was another illustration in simple pen and ink with streaks of color. In the upper right corner, a Bota held the glowing white carving from the front cover. A brief description next to him described what he was holding as the Token.

Across the page near the bottom corner, a small patch of red earth stood out, drawn in the same simplified style as before and accented with red ink. Mountains and forests, illustrated more like icons, separated the person from the red earth.

Raj turned the page. The layout was similar. This time a Petra held up the Token. And on the opposing page, a small animal with bright red fur sat under some ferns.

The following page repeated the layout. Now a Zo held the Token across from a small plant with red leaves. Raj had never seen the three Reds associated with the races in that way. He leaned in closer to the drawing of the Zo. This illustration had a great deal more detail, especially around the Zo. He could see the figure was stooped more than usual and wore a rather fashionable suit coat. It was rather modern in style, yet the book had to be half a century old.

He leaned in closer. The toes of the shoes ended in an exaggerated point. The Zo's cuffs pushed several inches beyond the coat sleeves. There was a white emblem embroidered over the chest pocket. Raj lifted his arms to find his own cuffs extending the same amount. The toes of his shoes extended in a point. He tugged at the chest of his suit to get a clear look. It was embroidered with same emblem.

His head started to spin in a sudden fit of dizziness. He lost control and fell forward towards the open book. Instead of hitting, his face simply passed through. He clenched his muscles in panic as his body tumbled in free fall. An instant later he hit soft ground.

After a moment he opened his eyes and tried to move. To his surprise nothing wasn't injured. He sat up carefully and looked around. He was now sitting in the middle of a pine forest. He got up and started to brushed the pine needles off then noticed there was something in his other hand. He was holding the token.

A portion of the forest began to glow in the pattern of a path, starting where he stood and stretching out as far as he could see through the trees. In a jolting blur of motion, his feet lifted off the ground and he shot forward above the highlighted path. He moved faster and faster until the individual trees turned to streaks. The forest ended abruptly, and his body crumpled with inertia as he shot almost straight up, climbing above the jagged cliffs of a mountain range.

He crested a peak and descended the other side as fast as he had climbed. At the base of the mountain, he hit the ground with a jarring impact and continued forward into another forest without pause. The trees blew by, then abruptly stopped. The sudden lack of motion caused his head to spin. He fought an urge to vomit. Below him the same little plant with the red leaves sat under the dense canopy.

As soon as he caught his breath, he was yanked backward, as though being sucked through a sheet of glass. Then he was back in the Cleric's office standing in front of the book. He stepped back.

This wasn't what he needed at all. He scooted to the door and stepped out. The hallway was still empty. He took a deep breath and cursed again. He doubted he'd have this chance again. He had to see if there was anything else useful.

He returned to the book, leaned in and very delicately turned the page.

What looked like a giant inkblot filled almost the entire left page. Armies of Zo, Bota, and Petra filled the bottom of both pages like ants swarming around a much larger animal. The inkblot appeared to be some sort of creature that was attacking the tiny armies, thrashing its black arms and tail.

In the middle of the army, one man stood apart. He was drawn much larger than the rest and held a glowing white Token in his outstretched hand.

Raj's vision blurred, and he fell forward. He caught his balance and looked up. He was in an open field of heavily trampled grass. So much dust had been kicked up that it clouded out the horizon. Again he was holding the Token in front of him. Zo soldiers ran frantically past him, fleeing from an unseen danger. He turned as a black mass struck with impossible force, twirling the fleeing soldiers into the air. The ground trembled, and the explosion hurt his ears. The sky filled with their bodies twisting and turning. Horror trembled down his spine as he saw their faces and heard their screams.

Raj tried to turn away from the looming black mass but his body refused to obey. He followed its form up into the sky, looking for its top but could see nothing but black above him.

From the left, a piece of it shot out and came down towards him. His arm held the Token up to it as though it were some kind of weapon. The creature's appendage bore down at an incredible speed then bounced back in a deafening collision. The Token's glow had grown to a blinding glare. The appendage seemed to have collided with that glare, with the aura of light emanating from it.

Raj's head spun; he felt the same sensation of falling backward through a plane of glass. Then he was back in the Cleric's office again standing over the book.

Raj stepped back, then just stared at the book for a moment, trying to grasp the significance of what he had just seen. He felt like he wanted to throw up. It just didn't make any sense. None of it. There had to be more of an explanation.

On the bottom of the page a caption read: His Prison Wrent Marks Judgment Nigh.

He turned another page.

The man with the Token was now wearing a glowing white royal crown. The massive black creature appeared to be attacking from the left. This time he held a glowing white sword and a shield instead of the Token. Behind him, the little red plant and the animal sat on a spot of red ground surrounded by a group of people. The man appeared to be protecting them.

A caption read: A Protector Delivers Whom Mercy Claims.

He turned the page quickly before anything happened.

The small white sword that the man had been carrying was now a shaft of light shooting into the sky from its hilt. The beam cut through an appendage of the black creature.

Raj turned the page quickly.

The drawing showed a destroyed landscape. Crops burned, earth scorched. Nothing lived. In the center of the blackened landscape sat the red plant and animal on the spot of red earth. Unharmed!

A caption read: From Death's Ashes New Life Springs. What Fire Burned Red Will Heal.

"What is this fascination with that book, if I might ask?" Bedic's voice startled him. He hadn't heard the old man come in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I..." Raj tried to explain. He shut the book and stepped back.

Bedic stood in the doorway staring at him with an amused grin. "You know this book is a compilation of many of the same stories that you yelled at my daughter for reading to your son. I'm having trouble understanding your obsession."

"What is this book? Where did it come from?"

Bedic walked to the pedestal. "It's called the book of Healing. It came to me as an inheritance."

"The book of Healing?"

"Tell me something Mr. Handers, here you are digging through one of my most valuable books, causing who knows what kind of damage, and I delay calling to have you thrown out in order to save you some embarrassment, yet you linger. Is there a reason you're still here talking to me?"

Raj pushed past him to get to the door. He heard the old man take a deep, pensive breath behind him as he left the room.

"Mr. Handers." Bedic called from behind.

Raj turned to see that Bedic had followed him into the hallway.

"I've been thinking since our conversation. As I said, my daughter came by last night rather upset. You had quite an effect on her, it would seem. Something she said before she left has planted a seed of doubt in my mind."

Raj's eyes narrowed.

"She asked me if the stories I told her as a child were true. I couldn't figure out why in the world she'd bring that up. But now in the context of your son's illness and sudden disappearance, the explanation looks troubling."

Raj stepped towards him. "What do you mean? What stories?"

"The only other time she's asked me that question she was about three weeks away from losing her oldest daughter to a horrible disease. So you can appreciate the kind of mind-set she was in at the time."

"She lost a child? I... She never told me."

"Well, we don't talk about it either. Not directly. Instead, she brings up these stories that I told her as a child. So here we are again only it's not her child this time. It's yours."

"What were these stories?"

"The same ones she's been reading to your son. Stories about healing."

Raj gave him an angered look. "Faith healing?"

"You have no idea, young man, where either of us has been. You'd be wise to keep your criticism to yourself. I have done everything in my power to help her get past this. But she seems intent on punishing herself to the bitter end."

"I thought you said she died of disease?"

"Does it matter? The fact is her daughter died, and she couldn't prevent it. To her that was inexcusable." Bedic let out a frustrated sigh and shook his head. "She had completely unreasonable expectations of what she needed to do. If she'd just have been a little more daring, if she'd just had a little more... faith."

Raj glared at him. "That's exactly why I didn't want her reading those stories to my son!"

Bedic looked away. "If I'd known these stories would have caused her so much guilt I never would've read them to her."

"Where did she take my son?"

"I told her the stories were figurative! Not to be taken literally! But, she wouldn't listen. She'd already decided what needed to be done. But when it came time to act she didn't have the guts to do it. Her daughter died, and she saw this as being a result of her cowardice." He whispered to himself, "It wasn't her fault..."

Raj rushed up to Bedic, grabbed him by the arms and shook him. "Where did she take my son?"

Bedic looked up to meet Raj's eyes. "This time it would seem she's found the courage. I believe she took your son to find Red Leaves... to be healed!"

"What?"

"I told her when she was a little girl that 'Red Leaves' grew in the center of the old capital."

"The old capital?"

"Yes, Shishkameen. That's what she meant when she asked if the stories were true. She was asking if 'Red Leaves' was real, if it was still there in Shishkameen"

"And you told her yes?"

Bedic looked away and nodded slightly. Raj let go of Bedic. His legs wobbled, and he fell to the floor.

"I thought telling her the truth would do more harm than good. She's fragile."

"She's going to feel pretty good when she finds out you lied to her."

His footsteps echoed down the stone hall as he stormed away.

-

Finally outside again, he hurried around the back wall of the school, wanting to return home and gather some things as quickly as possible. But as he turned the corner to head back into the city, a large stone archway blocked the walkway in front of him. "Not again!" he muttered.

He took a deep breath and stepped around it. If he just closed his eyes and kept going, eventually he'd forget he saw it. He kept walking but the images from the book and his previous encounters with the arches flooded his mind, one after another, forcing him to remember. He opened his eyes and turned back. A pathway extended behind the archway and led back the way he'd come.

His eyes followed the path as it rose towards the mountains in the distance. As before, he could see the side of the mountain in extraordinary detail even though it had to be hundreds of miles away. At the top of the path, he could see a white structure shimmering in the distant sunlight.

"Shishkameen is that way," Bedic's cracked voice called with as much volume as it could manage from the school wall above him. He was pointing north towards the river while Raj was facing the mountain range due west.

Raj looked up at him. "Thanks."

Raj turned back to the Archway and pointed. "What's this?"

"What is what?"

Raj stared at the distant blue mountains and then back at Bedic, "Nothing."

"I would suggest you hurry before she gets too far ahead of you."

Bedic kept his arm up pointing towards the river.

"Yeah, thanks," he answered. "I know where the port is, old man," he muttered to himself as he crossed the street away from the archway and headed back into the city. He had to pack first anyway.

Valance hurried down the stone steps that led to the tunnels under his property. He used them to move between buildings without giving away his location. Sometimes a small investment in discretion could pay large dividends. It was also a convenient place to store things of a more sensitive nature. He wouldn't want his housekeeper, for instance, cleaning the room he was about to enter.

He unlocked the thick door and pulled it open. A quick round with his lamp to light the gas lights brought the room to full brightness. The green walls were lined with an assortment of old and rusted weapons; spear tips with broken shafts, axes with partially intact blades, armor with plates so corroded they were more holes than metal.

It depressed him every time he came here. Once, these had been the most carefully crafted weapons he'd ever had the privilege of using. The speed of their decay was remarkable and disturbing at the same time. He wasn't sure what it would mean for him but guessed it wasn't good.

Fortunately, his own life had not been unnaturally shortened. Quite the opposite. Since the day he acquired them his body had remained comfortably fit, healthy and - young.

While they'd slowly decayed over the time he'd had them, he'd been preserved. What would happen when there was nothing left of them? Would he start to age normally again? He frowned at the thought.

He moved to the back of the room and opened a black wooden case. The inside was lined with red velvet. Sitting in the velvet was a sword in the same state of decay as the rest of the weapons.

This was his favorite. It was the one he actually cared about losing. Of course he had done everything he could think of to prevent or even delay its decay, but nothing seemed to help preserve it. Oil rubs, cleansing solutions, polishes of every kind, dry storage, wet storage, cool, heat, all did nothing. Thinking about it brought back feelings of desperation. Everyday meant there was less of them.

He took the sheath and tied it around his waist and slid the blade in. The mark on the palm of his hand glowed faintly as he released the handle. Its brightness had faded along with the weapons. Now it was hardly visible at all.

-

House Lord Valance, draped in a flowing purple robe, stood in the center of a vast chamber. Hundreds of Zoen Senators filled rows of cherrywood desks that stepped in tiers to the back of the room. Opposite the rows, a single Senator sat on an elevated bench with a gavel in his hand. His face was covered with straight white fur that was so thin and scraggly it would've looked better had he just shaved it off.

Valance dreaded the sight of him, Speaker Fiffe. It seemed he tried to make any and every issue discussed in the senate into something more complicated than it was, as though his relevance as speaker depended on how well he could use any particular issue to wage a popularity war with the clans that opposed him. If he wasn't constantly winning that battle, well, then what was the point of him being speaker?

Speaker Fiffe addressed Valance. "Am I correct in my understanding, House Lord Valance, that you authorized the wide spread deception of the people regarding the dilution of the people's Manea supply on two separate occasions. And if so by what authority did you take this action?"

Valance answered, "Mr. Speaker, I'm sure you've studied the situation, and are aware of the implications..."

One of the Senators on the first row interrupted, "It's rather convenient that this is coming to light at the same time that we're to vote whether or not to extend the Manea industry's rather generous incentives."

Valance turned to see who'd interrupted. "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate, I am not here to discuss financial assistance to my industry. I am here to inform you of a crisis that is currently developing across the world and in our own nation. We are dealing with unprecedented events that have caused and will continue to cause greater and greater disruptions in worldwide Manea production. These events are unlike anything we've encountered before.

"Our great Nation has grown and expanded faster than any of us could've imagined. We, as a great and numerous people, cannot survive without a plentiful and inexpensive supply of Manea. Plentiful and inexpensive is what has allowed us to become what we are today."

He studied their faces to measure their reaction, then continued, "Ladies and Gentlemen of the Senate, we no longer have that plentiful supply. Every man, woman, and child must eat. Every animal of every clan must eat! Not only are we facing a severe reduction in supply, we are facing demand that is not only greater than ever but endlessly growing. I am not here to cause unnecessary alarm or panic. This was kept private for that very reason, until we had done everything in our power to address the problem, to understand fully what we were up against."

Speaker Fife interrupted, "With what right have you withheld this information from us?"

Valance turned back to the speaker. "This is a worldwide phenomenon and not at all limited to my company. You're own internal agencies have said nothing? I am certain many of you in this room have known of this for a long while. My purpose today is to bring this issue out of the dark. It must be dealt with, and we must have the participation of all - including the public!"

The crowd of Senators stirred. A subtle roar of discontent filled the room.

Valance raised his voice to speak over them. "We have done everything possible to stop the shrinking production. That is our business. We're losing money, and we haven't been able to do anything about it. We are developing alternative solutions, of course, as I'm sure every other large scale Manae producer is. But they will take time to implement. Ten, possibly twenty years. In the meantime, we must turn to the one thing that we can control. Our consumption. Senators, we must cut back. We must ask the public to make sacrifices."

"Sacrifices?" The Lord Speaker interjected. "And who will determine these sacrifices?"

A Senator on the second row stood. "Who'll ensure that these sacrifices will be evenly distributed amongst the houses and clans?"

Valance answered, "It won't be evenly distributed. It can't, we..."

The room erupted into a cacophony of angry voices.

Valance tried to continue, yelling over them. "Please! Please!"

Hundreds of voices shouted over the top of each other. Valance reached up to the Lord Speaker's bench grabbed a gavel and banged it repeatedly. The unorthodox behavior worked. The room quieted.

Valance regaining their attention, continued, "This is the way it must be done!"

The Lord Speaker interrupted, "It is not the House Lord Valance's privilege to dictate what this Senate will or will not do!"

The room broke out in angered shouts.

Valance rushed up to the half wall separating him from the first row of Senators, jumped over the wall and climbed up onto the closest desk. With his hands raised, he yelled as loud as he could, "Quiet! Please!"

The room again subdued into a gentle roar.

Valance continued. "We have two options. We can allow market forces to dictate who can and cannot buy Manea. As you know, with anything in limited supply the only ones who will have access to it are those with sufficient means. If only those with sufficient means have it and all others are left on their own, who will tend the animals? Who will run the streetcars? Who will keep food coming into the city and water flowing out of our pipes? Without Manea, the entire working class will be lost. Now you tell me, is that a working strategy? Should we allow those with money to hoard and waste while the rest of the population descends into madness? Those with money would not survive such a scenario any more than the rest of us.

"The second option is to appoint a committee to manage the distribution of Manea, thus allowing us to maintain operation of vital services. Not all houses and clans carry the same weight in terms of our survival. Some hold strategic positions that can't be compromised. Others must step back to let the others survive. However unpleasant or unpopular, the facts cannot be changed. We must set our emotions aside and let our reason dictate. It'll be horribly unfair. It'll be the most awful thing we've ever had to do. But in the end we will pass through this, and we will survive."

He paused. "Or, if we do nothing we will all die."

The room dropped into silence. "We simply no longer have enough for everyone." Valance said quietly.

He scanned their faces for their reaction. One outburst triggered an explosion of yelling and screaming.

"This is your solution?" Someone shouted from the first row.

"Kill half the population to save the other half?" Another yelled nearby.

"...Unacceptable! You're insane! Dangerous!" came shouts from the back.

The Lord Speaker stood and pounded his gavel. After a moment, the roar calmed enough for him to speak.

"And who, Lord Valance, would you propose to head this committee? You? Is that what this about?"

Valance turned and answered, "I offer my experience with the production and distribution of Manae as well as with managing consumption rates. I have a plan to reduce the overall national consumption to fit within the limits of supply until we're able to provide an alternative. If that is of use to the Senate, I will serve."

Again, the room erupted in an explosion of shouts from the body of Senators. The Lord Speaker stood up and pounded his gavel to no effect. The Senators refused to quiet themselves.

Lord Valance turned back to the general assembly, surveying the angry mob shouting at him from behind their desks. Each trying to be heard over the cries of the others. He shook his head in frustration. He was afraid the time had come. He knew what he had to do, yet, his hand stayed motionless at his side. Something deep nagged at him to resist. But what other choice did he have? They wouldn't listen to logical argument. And even then, he could see they agreed to the need for action and the problem with inaction. They mocked and scorned his solution simply because they disliked the one presenting it? He couldn't allow this.

He moved his hand to the hilt of his sword. With the touch of his open palm on the engraved metal, a cool mist rolled out from his body, hitting the ground then swelling up and out over the crowd. As the mist expanded, he could feel the minds of the Senators. He could feel their intense anger, their bitterness, their fear. He could see their distrust of him.

He focused on that fear and pushed. If he could suppress it long enough for a vote, perhaps they could move forward. He pushed harder, with the absolute concentration that his years of experience with these tools had given him.

But their minds did not react. The mist that he had spread out over them lost cohesion. Then it was gone.

His mind snapped back to the confines of his own thoughts, his own body. His hand was still on the hilt of his sword. How was this possible? He hadn't broken connection with the sword. Yet... He lifted his palm. The insignia, etched into the skin of his palm that had once glowed brightly any time he'd used the weapon, was now dark.

His tool of last resort had failed.

He hopped off the desk, turned his back to the Senators and walked towards the exit door of the chamber.

"Where are you going?" The Lord Speaker demanded. "The general body has not excused you? Do you hear me?"

-

Valance's mind reeled in confusion as he processed what had just happened. He tried to assess where he stood and what his next action should be. But nothing seemed clear. His worst fear had just been realized. The weapons were now useless. Of course, he'd been aware of the decline in their effectiveness over the years. He started phasing out their use years ago for that reason, hoping to save them for when they were absolutely necessary. It'd been over a decade now since he'd last had to use them. Thus, he imagined it'd be years to come before their potency was entirely lost. By that time, he hoped they'd have found the Token.

Could they really have diminished sitting in his dark storage as much as they might have strapped to his waist? It seemed impossible. Yet what other explanation was there? The power was gone. He and his companions were left naked, without advantage.

The Token must be found, immediately, he thought.

Barnus and Whiting waited in the thick crowd that clogged the hallway outside the Senate chamber. Valance grabbed and pulled them down an empty hallway.

"What have you found concerning the Token?"

Barnus, caught off guard by the sudden intensity, stammered out an answer, "Nothing yet."

"What do you mean nothing?" Valance looked dangerous.

Whiting jumped in. "We haven't been able to confirm the sighting. We have two targets identified and confirmed, whom we've been watching for several days. Neither has exhibited any unusual activity yet."

"We can't watch and wait this time. Take me to the first target." Valance demanded.

"Of course."

Barnus put a hand on Whitings shoulder to stop him, "If we spook them and they do have it, they won't use it, they'll just bury it somewhere."

"You don't think I've thought about that..." Valance snapped.

"House Lord Valence, if I might have a word." A large Zo, with neatly trimmed fur and an impressively long jaw, stepped up behind them. He wore a decorated shirt top that hung halfway down his chest and exaggerated his shoulders.

Valance turned and stared at the man without reply. He recognized the face immediately. It was, Manthis, one of the prominent active Generals. After what had happened in the Senate, he had a decent idea what this man wanted. Most likely a personal threat of some sort would be given at the request of one of the Senators. Now that he had lost favor with the majority he and his views were a liability. They should've left the building and conversed about the Token elsewhere.

"What can I do for you General Manthis?"

"There was one thing that was not addressed in the chamber, which I was hoping I might now ask you. Have you thought about the foreign policy implications of this supply crunch?"

"Of course. We've taken foreign pressure into account in our usage reduction calculations. We've estimated supplies for the next ten to fifteen years based on what we think the other nations will be using."

"And how have you come to your conclusions on what share of the total Manea the other nations will be using?"

"We assumed they would be taking their own reduction measures."

"And what if they don't?"

"Well, we'd have some foreign policy problems."

"Let me ask you this Lord Valance, what would happen to this supply and demand issue if we stopped exporting Manea."

"We don't really export anything. Most of the orchards we operate are already across the borders. If we stopped selling Manea from those orchards to the Bota, they'd just nationalize them."

"Now hypothetically, what if they weren't able to nationalize them? What if we held on to all your current orchards and used the production entirely for our own people. How would that change the picture, domestically?"

"That's a big if. Our orchards are spread out all over Botan territory, and a few are across the Petra border. We'd be talking all out war."

"The question is hypothetical of course." added the General.

"We run two thirds of the world's orchards. If we maintained all of that production for our own use, there'd be no domestic supply problem. Not for the next twenty years at least."

"Thank you for your time. Would you be willing talk this over in greater detail with some of my colleagues?"

"Of course"

He had no intention of doing so. This man was clearly delusional, and any further conversation would be looked on with great disfavor by his foreign friends. Foreign friends who currently granted him the right to grow his product on their land. How could he know more about foreign military strength than a Zo general?

One thing was certain, in any war scenario, he'd be the first to lose. He and his orchards would quickly become the target of all three nations.

If he could've talked the Senate into a plan of demand reduction, he would've stood a reasonable chance of getting the Bota and Petra to follow suit. Without war his orchards would stay under his control. He could potentially control the Manea consumption in all three nations. With that he'd have power over the infrastructure and vital systems of all three. He could find ways to integrate them and reduce a great deal of redundancy and waste. A coordinated and collaborative effort would ultimately result in a united three. The advantages of such a union were staggering. The resources of Petra made freely available to the innovations of the Zo all fueled by the extraordinary land cultivation of the Bota. All the current walls inhibiting progress would effectively be torn down.

None of that seemed likely now.

At least, not without help.

-

Valance's black carriage arrived outside an old stone Botan church, the home of his old friend Bedic. He was actually a bit surprised that Bedic ended up being the first target. They'd been watching him for almost his entire life. And yet, after all this time, he'd never led them anywhere useful. He'd almost given up, figuring, if Bedic was going to find something he would have found it by now.

That brought him back to the second target. It must have something to do with this Raj Handers. He needed to find out what Raj and Bedic had to do with one another. Why did they meet recently, and what was the nature of the visit? His guess was that Raj found something and brought it to Bedic for some sort of consultation. But how he'd know to bring it to Bedic was a mystery.

-

Bedic sat at his desk, his mind deep inside the pages of a large book opened in front of him. He pushed back the leafy tendrils that had fallen down over the book. Sinesh, sitting on her knees, shifted a puzzle piece back and forth, trying to fit it into a half assembled puzzle spread across the stone floor.

An unexpected knock on the door snapped Bedic's attention away from the book. He and Sinesh both looked at the door.

A young Botan Cleric poked his head in, "Master Cleric, you have some visitors. They're rather..." He looked over at Bedic's granddaughter with raised brow. "Insistent."

Bedic closed his book. "Hun, I think its time for Bed." He waved the young Cleric into the room. "Would you take her back to my quarters?"

"I'm not done, Grandpa."

The young Cleric knelt down by the girl. "Come on sweetie." He gestured towards the door as he tried ushering her out of the room.

"I'm not done, its gonna get messed up!"

"I'll make sure no one touches it. Good night dear," Bedic said with a smile.

She made a frustrated grunt then followed the young Cleric out of the room. He waited for her then closed the door behind them.

A moment later the door opened again. Three large, well dressed, Zoen men entered. They held themselves further upright than most Zo and looked like the type that came to discuss potential investments to add to the churches portfolio. As soon as Bedic saw their faces, he knew that wasn't why they'd come.

The man in the middle stepped forward."Good Evening Master Cleric Verdu. I hope we aren't catching you at an inconvenient moment. We were looking for someone and hoped you might be of assistance."

Bedic didn't stand to greet them.

"I am the House Lord Valance and these are my associates Lord Barnus and Lord Whiting. I won't..."

"I know who you are." Bedic interrupted.

Bedic's mind flooded with memories. Flashes of a struggle. Bookshelves knocked to the ground. Swords drawn. Blood. His father! A dark pressure swelled inside him. It felt as though his skin was stretching, boiling from the inside. His brow beaded with drops of sweat. His old body twitched uncontrollably. In that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to see the three men in front of him die.

"It would appear that you do," answered Valance.

Bedic's frail body trembled more violently. He tried to control his thoughts, thoughts where his hands wrapped around Valance's thick neck, or where he took the dagger from the top drawer in his desk and ran it through Valance's heart. The images came, and he could do nothing to stop them.

Valance stepped further into the room. "Might I offer that we did not kill your father? He threw himself off a cliff in order to prevent us from retrieving what he had stolen from us. We had no intention of depriving him of his life. Killing would not have served our purpose."

Bedic spoke, slowly, trying to steady the tremble in his voice. "And my grandfather? Did he throw himself off a cliff as well?" More memories of that day flooded his mind. He was just a child, but he could still remember the day his father was killed, the day his grandfather died, the day his mother took them away from their home, the day Lord Valance visited their school.

Valance cut a disapproving glance at Barnus. "I'm truly sorry for your loss Master Cleric. It was an awful outcome of a most unfortunate day. I didn't kill the School Master. I promise you. In fact, I had come to seek his council. Unfortunately, there were other parties involved that led to some complications. It was not my intention to cause harm to anyone.

"You are right to your anger. My interest in them, however inadvertent, did lead to the death of both men. But that is not why we're here today. You can trust that I would not have come, given our history, if it were at all avoidable."

Bedic listened to him speak and watched him take another step towards his desk. He tried to calm his mind. He forced his body to relax, unclenched his fist and sank forward a little. He wanted to give the impression that Valance's attempt at an apology was working. Meanwhile, he slipped his right hand into his top drawer and felt his way through the clutter until his fingertips felt the cold metal of his dagger.

With his other hand he gripped the soft bark of the snap vine that ran along the outer lip the desk. It was there to make quick, but small, adjustments depending on need. The main structure of the desk was adjustable as well but extremely slow. It could take him the entire day to modify the over-all height or width. The snap vines, on the other hand, would accept a new shape in a matter of minutes.

As his palm merged into the bark he could feel the placement of the long snaking vine, looping the top of the desk and then dropping into a weave along the side. He created a new picture of its shape in his mind and focused.

Valance continued, "Our country finds itself in a bit of a predicament. There's something that we're looking for that we believe would prevent things from escalating. If we're not able to find it," Valance took another step forward, "it would mean war."

Bedic watched Valance's feet as he took three casual steps closer, bringing him within a foot of the desk, just within striking distance. Bedic could feel the snap vine assume the new form he held in his mind. If Valance kept still a moment longer he'd be able to coil it around one of Valance's legs. Bedic brought the knife as close as he could to the front of the drawer. His heart pounded furiously as he deliberated.

"Will you help us?" Valance asked.

The snap vine finished its last wind and tightened. Valance looked down at his leg and pursed his lips. Bedic snapped the knife out of the drawer and lunged at Valance's heart. The adrenalin made him feel like a projectile shooting through the air at its target. He watched in slow motion as the tip of his blade approached the soft fabric of Valance's suit.

Bedic's momentum shifted, the knife stopped and he fell downward. Then pain. He looked back. His arm, twisted unnaturally, probably broken, was pinned to the table by a large furry hand. He collapsed onto the desk as the shock overtook him. How could he have been so stupid? Why did he think he'd be fast enough?

Valance's face soured. He kicked his foot free of the snap vine. "Thank you Barnus." He took the knife out of Bedic's arthritic old hand.

Whiting pinned down Bedic's other arm.

"Aaah," Bedic cried.

Valance poked the tip of Bedic's knife on Bedic's nose, not quite hard enough to break the skin. "Most unfortunate."

Bedic strained against the two large men. They held his head and chest flat against his cluttered desk. He could feel a stabbing pain from something underneath cutting into him. "Please!" he begged.

Valance twisted the tip of the knife playfully. "I had hoped we'd find a mutually beneficial outcome to our reunion after all these years. We help you, you help us. I see that was a bit unrealistic of me to expect. The most we could hope for now is to avoid a repeat of the same dreadful tragedy suffered by you and your family the first time we met. You have a daughter now, do you not?"

"Please," Bedic begged. "What do you want?"

"The man who visited you a day ago, Mr. Raj Handers, what do you know of him? Tell us everything."

Bedic's voice wavered, it was raspy, starting to go. He could smell the intense, salty odor of his own blood. He felt it dripping down his chest under his tunic.

"He came here looking for his missing son. He thought he might have been with my daughter. She works in the hospital. She was the boy's nurse. He thought she might have taken him."

"Taken him? Now why would he think that?"

"My daughter and the man's son both disappeared at the same time. Right after an argument. The man and my daughter disagreed on some terms of care for the boy."

"Did she take him?"

"I don't know. It's possible." Bedic wheezed. Lord Whiting let him up slightly.

"Where would they have gone?"

Bedic took a deep breath. He didn't want to answer that. He tried to think of some possible answers that wouldn't give her away. "Argh..."

Lord Barnus twisted his injured arm further. The pain cascaded down his spine.

"She would've taken him to Shishkameen!"

"Why?"

"She thinks she'll find something there that'll heal the boy."

"And what would that be?"

"Red Leaves," Bedic whispered.

Valance laughed. "She thinks the Red Leaves is still there? Why would she think that?"

"Because I taught her through her childhood that it was still there."

"Why?"

"I wanted her to have something concrete to believe in. Something tangible. And..." He paused to think of how to phrase his response. "I wanted her to be proud of who she was and where she came from. It's not easy growing up different from everyone around you. A Botan in a Zoen country doesn't make for an easy childhood."

"Interesting," Valance added. "Well perhaps, we should go find her."

That's what Bedic was afraid of. "She doesn't know anything. She's acting on a stupid lie that I told her as a child and never corrected as an adult."

"And what of this Raj fellow? Did he believe your daughter? Was he interested in finding Red Leaves?"

Bedic thought carefully about how to answer. He didn't want anyone to get hurt. "He forbid my daughter from reading stories from the Old Books to his son. I don't think they shared the same beliefs." He struggled. If he said nothing more, Lord Valance and his mercenaries would probably go after his daughter instead of Raj. And what would they do to her once they found her? The thought filled his heart with dread.

"Yet..." He paused for a breath. "He was particularly interested in a certain book while he was here."

"Which book?"

Whiting let the old man sit up enough to point out. Valance followed Bedic's trembling outstretched hand to a large book sitting on a pedestal. He closed it to see the cover. It was covered in green leather with an image of the Token engraved in the center.

Valance spun back to Whiting and motioned for them to go. "Tie him up!" He looked at Bedic before heading out the door. "Let's go find them, shall we?"

-

Sinesh stuck her head out past a heavy wooden door that she had cracked open and scanned the hallway for adults. Nothing in either direction. She had heard some yelling and loud banging. She'd never seen a Cleric yell before and thought that might be kind of fun to see.

She tiptoed into the hallway towards the noises. A muffled voice echoed off the stone walls from around a corner. "Stay away from her! She doesn't know anything about this!" It was her Grandpa. She'd never heard him raise his voice like that. Her tiptoeing turned into a quiet run.

She heard another voice from the same place, but this one was much younger. "Well, It wouldn't hurt to ask her, would it?" It didn't sound like any of the Clerics she knew.

She stopped at the corner of the hallway and listened. The loud clomping of boots echoed off the walls. It sounded like there was a bunch of people. And they were leaving.

She peaked around the corner. "Gah!" She covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Her Grandfather, tied at the hands and feet, lost his balance and tipped over. A large Zoen man grabbed the cord around grandpa's feet and dragged him down the hallway. Sinesh pulled her head back around the corner.

She could feel her heart racing inside her chest. It was telling her what to do. Grandpa needed her, so she had to help! She waited until she could barely hear their footsteps then turned and followed them down the hallway.

-

Emret watched the massive columns of the Botan Clan's palace as they grew from small sticks in the distance to great towers above them. Moslin pushed his wheelchair at a quick pace. He didn't think she liked the idea of being out with him at night.

They slowed as they passed under the towering entryway ceiling, held up by the giant columns. It was certainly an intimidating way to enter a building, not the friendly welcome Emret had hoped for.

Before they reached the massive wooden doorway, it creaked open, flooding the entryway with a warm light. A small Botan man hopped around the door, holding it open for them.

"Clan Lord Benthem is expecting you. Please follow me." He smiled and gave them a polite bow as he motioned them inside.

She pushed Emret's chair inside, a bit slower than necessary. The foyer was like nothing Emret had ever seen. There were plants everywhere; in pots, climbing up the walls, in square cut outs in the floor filled with soil. Where the walls weren't covered with actual plants they were painted with the trunks and boughs of a forest canopy.

The doorman led them down a long hallway, stopping at a large set of lightly stained wooden doors. He opened one and gestured for them to enter. "Please have a seat. The Clan Lord will be with you shortly."

They entered the large room, encircled with fancy chairs of the same nearly white wood, and stopped close to the exit. Moslin turned Emret's chair so he faced her and then took a seat. A large table of a strange, almost perfectly white, wood filled the center of the room. They could fit a lot of people around it, he thought.

"I didn't know the Bota had Clan Lords." Emret said.

"Well, they don't exactly," Moslin explained. "At least not in Shishkameen, or any other Botan city." She folded her arms. "Here though, the Clan Lords are pretty important, especially in local affairs. So the bota that live in Pipfe made sure they had someone to represent them."

"Ah."

"Bentham is also a Phi. That gives him a lot of legitimacy to the Botans."

"A Phi?"

Moslin smiled. "Your dad's not much for religion is he?"

"No, that was more of my mom's thing."

"Sounds like she was a good woman."

Emret smiled.

Moslin rubbed her chin. "The Phi for the Bota are a little like the Clan Lords, in that, the people look up to them; they trust them to keep the rest of the government honest."

"Bentham is part of the Botan Government?"

"Oh no, no. The Phi are ecclesiastic. They govern a geographic region of the church. Its just that, in those regions, the local leaders listen to them."

Emret nodded his head.

"There are Zoen Phi too I believe, just not part of the same church."

"The Bota have their own church?"

"Well, it's really the Zo that have their own church."

"Oh." He looked at his feet. "Why?"

A door across the room clicked and a large Botan man entered. He motioned for them to follow him as he approached.

"Please come with me." He smiled and bowed politely.

Down another brightly lit and colorfully decorated hallway, they found themselves in front of another set of doors. These were larger than the first and almost as massive as the entry doors. Their new escort opened them and signaled for them to enter.

"The Clan Lord will see you now."

Beyond the door was a long hall. Several rows of seats lined the walls on both sides, leading to an elevated bench along the far wall. In the center of the far wall, a Botan man spread his thick translucent green body out across an oversized throne-like chair. His tightly curled tendrils made an impressive four-foot wide halo of green. He motioned for them to approach.

"Please, please, come." Clan Lord Bentham said.

Moslin jolted the chair into motion, whipping Emret's neck back. Emret looked back at her and chuckled. This was more excitement than he'd had in a long time.

"What?" she asked in response to his laugh.

He smiled back. "Nothing."

Bentham leaned forward in his massive chair, sending his multiple layers of flowing robes drooping over the bench. "Moslin! Good to see you. How's your father?"

"Stubborn and ill-tempered."

The Clan Lord laughed. "So I guess that means he's healthy as ever."

"Thank you for seeing us."

"Of course! What can I do for you?"

"Well..." she looked down at Emret. "We need to secure passage to Shishkameen."

"You and the boy?"

"Yes."

"I don't suppose you have any travel papers?"

Moslin bent over to whisper in Emret's ear. "I told you this wasn't going to be easy."

"I'll be honest with you, Moslin. Even with papers, a Botan woman traveling with a Zo boy is going to attract attention." Bentham put a pencil down that he'd been fiddling with. "I assume that's why you've come."

Moslin nodded.

Bentham shifted in his seat. "Why are you taking this boy back to the old city?"

"He's very sick. He needs a treatment that the doctors here won't do. A Botan treatment."

"And his parents?"

She looked at Emret. He twisted to look back at her with a look of pleading on his face. "Please," he mouthed.

"He has no one who will help him," she answered.

Bentham tilted his head, his eyes narrowed to slits. "What does that mean, exactly?"

She didn't answer.

"Moslin, forgive me, but I'm a little concerned that this might have more to do with your daughter than with this young man."

"Sir... Lord," Emret interrupted, not exactly sure how to address the Clan Lord. "Please! I asked Moslin to do this. I..." he stammered. "If I stay in my hospital bed and do nothing... I'll just get worse. This is my chance... to do something other than wait."

The Clan Lord stared at Emret, twisting a translucent green hair tendril in his fingers.

Emret sat forward. "The doctors here have tried everything they can think of. They don't know what else to do."

The Clan Lord glanced at Moslin.

"They're investigating other options. But yes, for the moment they have no other treatments planned," she explained.

"And without further treatment, Botan or otherwise?"

Moslin looked down at Emret, her mouth opened to speak but remained silent.

"I know what's going to happen." Emret said, looking back at her. "My binding is failing. When that happens, I'll die."

The Clan Lord sat back heavily. "Yes, rather unpleasant. I'll make the arrangements. You'll travel as part of the next procession going into the old city." He rubbed his forehead.

"Emret, you are an impressive young man. I wish you the greatest success on your venture. If there's anything else I can do for you, please ask."

"Thank you!" Emret grinned broadly.

-

The next morning Moslin pushed Emret to the river dock early, wanting to avoid as much attention as possible. They stopped in a quiet corner on the pier next to a large river ship and waited. People rushed up and down the loading ramps, carrying barrels, crates, and luggage.

A crowd of Botan Clansmen wearing reddish brown robes pushed their way through the other travelers and appeared to be headed towards them. A moment later Moslin and Emret were fully engulfed in a crowd of reddish brown. One of the Clansmen stopped in front of them.

"Moslin?" He asked.

"Yes." She nodded.

He had several extra robes draped over his arm. He handed one to her and one to Emret.

"Last chance. You sure you want to do this?" Moslin asked Emret.

Emret beamed, a smile spread from ear to ear.

"I'll take that as a yes." She smiled back.

"Put these on before we board." The Clansmen said quietly. "Once we're on the ship you'll need to stay below deck, unfortunately."

"What do we do if the ship is boarded?" She asked.

"Processional ships don't get boarded. Just stay below deck and you'll be fine."

The Story Continues in Part 2

Raj begins his journey to find his missing son. Lord Valance plots to save the Zo nation from the impending Manea shortage. Emret and Moslin embark on their dangerous quest to find...

Red Leaves and the Living Token - Book 1 - Part 2

Buy Part 2 and Part 3 together and save.

Red Leaves and the Living Token - Book 1 - Complete
GLOSSARY

The world of Rieth

PEOPLE

School Master - Botan. Head Master of a Church of the Red's boarding school. The school under his supervision followed the more moderate teachings of the Unified order. The Unified order claimed to have roots that predated any of the modern religions.

Lord Valance - Zo. Tall and well framed with silky black hair. He founded the Manea Trading Company.

Lord Whiting - Zo. The younger and smaller of Lord Valance's two close confidants. He met Lord Valance as a youth in boarding school.

Lord Barnus - Zo. Thick limbed, tall and covered in wild red hair. He's the second of Lord Valance's close confidants.

Raj Handers - Zo. A short and well fed young father.

Emret Handers - Zo. Raj's slender teenage son.

Rinacht Turl - Petra. Raj's friend and house servant.

Moslin Verdu - Botan. Emret's Nurse.

Sinsesh Verdu - Botan. Moslin's daughter and Bedic's granddaughter.

Bedic Verdu -Botan. The head Cleric at the School of the Reds in Pipfe and Moslin's father.

Clan Lord Ranth - Zo. A moderately influential Clan Lord with close ties to Clan Lord Mar.

Clan Lord Mar - Zo. The most influential Clan Lord representing the interests of the united trade guilds.

Clan Lord Bentham - Botan. The only Botan Clan Lord and the most influential Botan within the Zoen government.

Holy Master Cleric - Botan. The ecclesiastical head of the Botan Church of the Reds. Although not the official Botan political head of state, his judgements determine Government policy. Whomever forms the current Botan government must maintain his blessing to remain in power.

General Rant Turl - Petra. The General of the Petra's northern Army.

Haden Turl - Petra. General Turl's young nephew

Commander Shif Paklin \- Petra. General Turl's top commander.

PLACES

Pipfe - The Zoen Capital city. It's nestled against the coast at the far east of the Zoen lands. The Appease Mountain range to the west provide a secure boarder against the Petra lands.

Shishkameen - The old capital city of the three nations before they split. Now it is the Botan capital. Surrounded by a wall built by the Petra on one side and the great marshlands on the other.

Rhashk - The Petra Capital city, carved out of bedrock in the foothills of the great Appease Mountain range which separate the Petra and Zo lands.

Upper Archlier - A Petra Border Town hidden in the Appease Mountains.

