Chapter 21
Jerell hurried into the small courtyard behind the Parliament building, his breaths coming in excited puffs. He could hardly wait to hear Sylenn's explanation of how the note asking him to come here had so mysteriously appeared on his desk. He also could scarcely wait to learn why she wanted to see him tonight.
He looked around the small area, lit by one bright lamp over a large double-door set into the Parliament building. The gaslight reflected on the snow, giving the entire courtyard a warm, almost comfortable glow. He looked around; it was deserted. Sylenn must be running late, or perhaps he was early. He hadn't been able to focus for the last half-hour of work, ever since he'd found the note. He'd practically run the entire way here.
"Good evening, Jerell Graig," a husky voice said behind him. He knew that voice. He'd never be able to forget it. He slowly turned around to face Fulenthen Sonelion.
"Good evening, Mistress Descendant," he replied, bowing deeply. She stared at him impassively, black eyes gleaming in the gaslight. Snow lightly dusted her hair and shoulders as she nodded to him.
"My apologies for the deception. I thought it would be better to have the note bringing you here come from someone other than a Descendant. Your presence is requested this evening for a special occasion. Please follow me; it is too cold out here to speak at length."
He nodded as she turned toward the doors. It was bitingly cold outside, but he didn't really feel it. She didn't seem to feel it either, and she wasn't wearing the three layers of heavy clothing that he was. Idly he wondered, not for the first time, how Descendants managed without clothing.
She led Jerell to the double doors, which opened at some unseen signal to reveal a guardsman bearing a rifle. He nodded wordlessly to Fulenthen and eyed Jerell professionally as they passed by.
Fulenthen led him around a corner and into a small room. When she turned to him, gesturing to several hooks where he could hang his coat and hat, he realized that all the ceilings here were very high. In fact, the doors were tall as well. She hadn't had to duck to enter any of them, even to get her high tail of hair through without scraping. Jerell suddenly felt very small.
"Please, be seated." She motioned to a large, comfortably solid table with chairs that was the only furniture in the room. A plate of rolls, a dish of butter, a carafe, and one mug were laid out on it. Fulenthen sat on the far side of the table, opposite the setting, resembling an adult at a child's tea-party. Jerell slid into the other seat, noting the small stack of papers in front of her.
"Please, refresh yourself, Mr. Graig. You have had a long walk through cold weather."
Obediently, Jerell poured himself a cup of steaming juava and took a roll. He then realized that they were from Jothun's cafe and still fresh.
"The Descendants have business with you, Mr. Graig, and we felt it best that one of us approach you rather than all of us." Fulenthen watched him with that same unperturbed gaze. Part of him wanted to be unnerved by that; the rest of him sat firmly on the unease and relaxed.
"Well, Fulenthen Sonelion, I am happy to be able to serve in any way I can. I would gladly have heard any of your Siblings, but I must say that I am happy you were chosen to speak for them. I never did get to thank you for helping me last summer."
She nodded slowly in acknowledgement. "You are welcome. It is my duty to Alluvia and her inhabitants to serve. The matter we wished to address with you is this: we have need of your journalistic skills."
Jerell listened in fascination as she calmly outlined the proposal. They wanted him to be their official spokesman? He had impressed them? His writing was good enough? They had prepared a contract for him? It made his head spin.
"Mr. Graig, we now come to the truly important details of this offer. We have reason to believe that you are an upright and honest man, but we do have concerns about your ability to respect our privacy. We lead public lives, so it is imperative that our private lives be kept private. We desire that the world know the truth of our public lives, what we do for Alluvia and why and how. But when we close the doors to the Temple, when we leave the public arena, we desire privacy. We do not wish to have the particular details of our homes and habits broadcast as though we were socialites seeking notoriety."
Jerell snorted into his coffee, nearly spilling it.
"What we desire from you, Mr. Graig, in addition to your honest and even presentation of the facts of our actions and motives, is your word, as a man and as a Sacerdotist, that you will not publish anything about us without our express consent and approval." She leveled her gaze at him. Though her face did not change, he could sense how serious she was.
"You have my word, Fulenthen Sonelion," he replied with equal measure. "And may I congratulate you? You obviously know me well enough to know how important keeping my word is to me. I think that displays remarkable foresight and laudable caution. You're taking a great step, trusting someone with all the information about you. In fact, if it would make it more comfortable for you, I could remain here, in Suljem, and stay completely separated from your personal lives. That way, none would need to fear I would learn what I should not."
Fulenthen's mouth ticked up at one corner. "The offer is deeply appreciated, Mr. Graig. We have discussed it among ourselves, and there are still those who fear to allow someone with no ties to us to be so close, in our inner sanctum. However, after much conversation, we decided that having you on hand at the Temple would be the most beneficial. We do not have time or desire to write up all the information to bring to you so that you could then rewrite it for publication. We would request that you come to the Temple and live there."
Jerell sobered, staring into the depths of her eyes. He took a deep breath before replying. "Much as I would like to say 'yes' at this moment, Fulenthen Sonelion, I must request some time to think about this. I need to be certain that this is what I should do. Am I correct in stating that moving into the Temple would mean that I would not be able to leave it?"
"The greatest possibility is yes, you would not leave the Temple again. It may be that, after a suitable time, you would be permitted to leave under escort, but for your safety and ours, you would be required to remain there." Her expression remained fixed, yet there was compassion in it.
He nodded. "May I have the remainder of the week to consider, then?"
"Yes. We will not require your answer until this time next week. You may send a note or come in person to the courtyard we entered through." She rose, towering over him so that he forgot to rise politely with her. He stared up at her.
"You may take your time here, Mr. Graig, to think about what we have discussed and read the contract. There is no need for you to hurry from this room. The guard will let you out whenever you wish to leave. Have a pleasant evening."
"Ah, before you leave," Jerell called out after her, twisting in his chair. She paused with her hand on the door lever. "Does Miss Jenfsen know about this?"
"Why do you ask?" Fulenthen turned back around to face him.
"Ah, she did write the note. At least, I presume she wrote it; I've never seen her handwriting before--"
"She did write it, at my behest," Fulenthen confirmed. "But the servants of the Temple do not always need to know why we ask them to do things."
"Ah. I see. Well, then, I suppose I shall bid you good evening, then, Fulenthen Sonelion." This time, he remembered his manners and stood up as she left the room.
"But Sylenn does know," she whispered as the door closed.
~~~~
"There you are," was Lyshunda's greeting as Sylenn exited the lift shaft. "We just got word that there's a massive Sukker attack in both Lesoth and Gernsey. They're going after the platforms there. We think there's at least ten Sukkers at each one, perhaps more. Satherlin, Clatyn, Kylle, Mosin, and Konyetta have gone to Lesoth; you, Niel, Hae, Tad, Quiana, and I will go to Gernsey. Hurry!"
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