Chapter 57
Jeffrey: “He who has seen what has happened”
The guard unlocked the door for him and stood aside as Jeffrey entered the cell. He heard the click as the door was re-locked behind him. It didn't make him afraid he would be trapped in the cell with Lester. Nor did it fill him with reassurance that the prisoner would not escape. All it did was engender amusement in him. As far as he could determine, the apprentice did not appear to be desperate enough to attempt forcing his way out of the cell.
Like a domino striking another as it fell, the thought triggered another: why isn't he? If I were in here, aware that the pope wanted to turn me into a human torch to illuminate the dangers of trafficking with “demons”, I'd certainly be desperate to escape!
Lester was sitting on his cot, staring at the breakfast tray in the middle of the floor. Oddly, there seemed to be a trace of perspiration on his forehead. He wiped it with a sleeve self-consciously when he noticed Jeffrey looking at him.
“I thought you might like some donuts,” Jeffrey said, lifting the cover off the dish he was carrying. Twin wisps of steam arose from two cups of cocoa beside the stacked toroids.
Lester stared at the donuts, then his gaze raked Jeffrey's face, as if searching for something. “Thanks,”he said, lifting one from the dish and turning it over in his hands, regarding it as if it were something mysterious he had never seen before.
Jeffrey picked up one himself. “What? You don't have donuts in Rado?”
Now the apprentice looked puzzled. “Of course we do,” he said, taking a bite. “We have everything you do here,” he paused, “except the TCC.”
At the mention of the Church, Jeffrey grimaced, but only momentarily, because he saw with some surprise that he and Lester shared a secret vice: they were both dunkers. After taking a bite of his own, Jeffrey immersed the broken ends in the hot cocoa, letting the sweet mystery of it soak into the cake before he took another bite. What, after all, was the point of having donuts and coffee or cocoa if you couldn't combine them? Dunking sweetened the cake (for these were the old-fashioned cake donuts, and not the lighter, sugar glazed 'raised' variety) and simultaneously cooled the beverage as it permeated the dough.
“I see,” he remarked, “that we have this is common.”
“What?” mumbled Lester, his mouth full of soggy donut.
“Dunking. Did your mother try to discourage it? Mine always said it was a vulgar affectation. I could never get her to appreciate the pleasure of it.”
“No,” said Lester, picking up another one. “My whole family dunks. Even Gerrold.” As he said the name, a shadow seemed to pass over his face. But the donut soon fixed that.
“Who's that? Your father?”
“No,” said Lester, regarding the half-eaten donut pensively before adding, “He's my stepfather. My Dad was killed by Texas men.”
“I'm sorry to hear that,” said Jeffrey, recalling his own sense of vicarious violation when he had seen Brutus's men savaging the farmer and his family. He felt soiled, stained by it, even though the only surviving witnesses were the perpetrators and himself. “War always involves killing. But they're only supposed to attack the other soldiers, not harmless farmers.”
“Not all farmers are harmless,” Lester pointed out. “Mine certainly wasn't, when he saw his crops burning. If they hadn't used their crossbows, his pitchfork would have gotten at least one of them.”
Jeffrey picked up the last donut and broke it in half. “It's wrong to waste food like that,” he said, handing Lester half of it. “But you know how it is. Armies burn what they can't take with them, to deny food to opposing armies. It's a double curse. First killing, then famine. I hate it myself. But it's even worse when commanders let them murder and rape civilians.”
“I'm glad we agree on that,” said Lester. “I could tell you and Brutus were not made from the same mold. Apparently you don't agree on everything.”
“How could you know that?” After what you saw, probably years ago in the last war, I wouldn't blame you for thinking all Texas men were animals.
“From your argument with him in the cell, back in Rado,” Lester said. “I was listening in the corner, invisible. Back then, it was the only magic I knew.” He dunked his piece and finished it, then picked up the cup.
Back then? “So I was right in thinking you learned how to make a swizzle here in prison? Without a wizard showing you? How did you do that?”
Lester sipped his cocoa. “It's complicated,” he said, eventually. “Considering how your Church feels about it, It'd be a bad idea for you to know too much of what they call “demonic lore.”
“Well, it's still impressive that you were able to do it.”
“Not the word your Pope would use, I'd imagine.”
Jeffrey grimaced. “He's not my pope. Don't you have churches in Rado?”
“Sure,” said Lester. “Every village has one. In fact, that's the old definition of the word 'village' – a community big enough to have its own church. Places smaller than that are called 'hamlets'. But ours don't listen to the Pope.”
“Well, neither do I,” said Jeffrey. “Dad and I argue about that. He says the TCC helps us to control the people. I say it's a bad idea to be in bed with superstition-mongers.”
Lester leaned back on his cot. “There's another thing we agree on,” he said. “I haven't been to church since my father died.”
Jeffrey was surprised by this. He thought people raised to be religious generally stayed that way. “Why not? You said your churches have nothing to do with Texas.”
“I guess I got tired of the old 'God watches over us' line. After what happened to Dad, it got clear to me real fast that even if God does watch, He sure doesn't reach into our world to help much. He might make it rain, for all I know, but he doesn't provide umbrellas. He doesn't stop arrows or armies. We have what you might call 'irreconcilable differences' on the value of human life.” He stared at the floor. “I couldn't watch cruelty and no do anything about it. But He can...if he exists.”
When he looked up again, Jeffrey avoided his eyes as a pang of guilt made him close his own for a second. I couldn't save them by myself, he told himself. You didn't even try! I know, but it wouldn't have accomplished anything.
He opened his eyes and look at Lester, who was watching him. “My father values Brutus as a field commander,” he said. “I tried to bring him up on charges,” but my father won't let that happen.”
“Don't worry about it,” said Lester. “When the time comes, I'll take care of him for you.”
Jeffrey didn't have to ask what he meant. “But you weren't even there!”
“I was, ten years ago,” Lester told him. “When he killed my father.”
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