Sebastian regarded Carlson, a good man beneath his official veneer, a decent man, not always right but doing his best. Like him.
He reached out with a firm grip and received the same in kind.
They were both guessing, trying to do what was right. The earth beneath him seemed suddenly insubstantial. Only one thing remained that he could rely on—the warmth of this handshake—but as he stared out the window at the moonlit field, he felt like the owl in the darkness, flying off to the horizon.
Chapter 36 – Talk of War
Friday morning, Helena clutched the arms of Sebastian’s guest chair and tried to moderate her breathing. The light of dawn had barely flickered above the treetops when the managing director’s sealed note had arrived. It said she and Jason needed to come right away, that the meeting was most urgent and they should tell no one. Jason had already left for his morning run, and she had to chase him down as he was doing stretches beneath the sentinel tree. He changed out of his running clothes, and they hurried arm in arm to the great house, clinging to each other as if afraid the meeting might split them apart.
Now Sebastian was going about his tea ritual with his usual maddening precision. He laid out three saucers in a row and tipped their cups upright, setting them softly in place as if he feared the least clink might make them shatter.
Helena made an effort to relax her grip and allow the blood to flow into her fingers. She’d been this way since childhood, too intense and ready to fight but always too cautious to pick a battle. This time, let caution be damned.
She glanced at Jason as he glared at Sebastian. His jaw was set, and his patience was wearing thin.
“What the hell’s going on?” Jason finally said. His voice sounded high-pitched, like the strings of an instrument too tightly tuned.
What the hell, indeed. Benjamin’s patrols were strutting about the farm while armed agents in camouflage spied on them from the trees. Now Sebastian had summoned the two of them for this meeting. What plot was he hatching?
Sebastian abandoned the tea cups and settled into his high-backed chair. His eyes sagged at the corners, and the weight of his years showed. “Truth is, I’m not sure what’s going on. All I know is there are powerful people who want to take Kailani away, Benjamin’s zealots who want to stop them, and a little girl caught in between.”
“And?” Helena said.
“And the powerful people will win in the end... as they always do.”
“Where will they take her?”
“I can’t say for sure, but we’re all people of reason and grounded in reality. We’ve watched Kailani these past few months, spouting mythmaker wisdom and breaking our laws. She’s such a delightful child that we ignored the problem. After all, she was safe at our little farm, tucked away from the world. What harm could there be? But now the world has come to us. Where will they take her? I’m sure you can surmise.”
Helena sucked air in between her teeth and grimaced at Jason. The warning he’d received resounded in her mind. There are those who would do her harm. “But we can’t let them—”
“Doesn’t matter, Helena. If the department wants her, the department will get her. These are people who control the law. These are people with armies. If we resist, there’ll be trouble, not just for Kailani but for the farm.” Sebastian made a steeple with his fingers and stared at them through it. “May I speak in confidence?”
“I thought you were already being honest with us,” Jason said.
“Please, Jason, I can’t do this without your help, but I need you to keep what I’m about to tell you secret. There are people around the farm who are... unpredictable. If word of what I’m about to tell you gets beyond that door—”
“It can’t be that serious.”
“Your generation has never been to war. I have. Trust me, it’s that serious.”
Helena suppressed a shudder. “What do you want from us?”
Sebastian told them about the plan he and Carlson had concocted to turn Kailani over. The chief examiner had promised to keep her safe and do whatever he could to ease her transition, but it required sneaking her away by Sunday noon.
While Helena listened in stunned silence, he tried to close the deal. “Can I count on you?”
She slumped in her chair. “I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
“I know how you feel, but at Sunday noon, control moves to a giant bureaucracy, built generations ago for a single purpose—to keep the Republic safe from zealots. In their great, all-seeing eye, Kailani is just another dangerous zealot who must be quarantined like a virus to keep the rest of us safe. I’m concerned for her and wish I could do more. I’m also worried we’ll lose the farm. Most of all, I’m terrified someone will get killed. Trust me, there’s no better choice. For reason’s sake, help me let her go.”
“How is it reasonable to send her to a fate she doesn’t deserve?”
“You’re being melodramatic. We’re not savages. The rehabilitation center isn’t a prison. It may be rough for a while, but in the end, she’ll have a better life here than she’d have in the Blessed Lands.”
“So you’re asking us to not only trust you but the department? I can’t do that, Sebastian. I made a promise to keep her from incarceration. I broke my promise to my father. I won’t break this one.”
Sebastian twiddled his fingers but kept his eyes locked on her. He was calculating, trying to find a way out.
Helena braced for his next onslaught.
“I understand,” he finally said, “how much your father’s death has grieved you. But with all respect, this is not about your father.”
“Not about my father?” She leaned in and gripped the edge of the desk. “How could you know what I went through?”
“How could I...?” Sebastian’s professional demeanor vanished. He blinked furiously and his hands began to shake. “Do you think you’re the only one to watch someone die? I watched my Lizzie die for eight months, slipping from the woman I loved to a shell of herself. Near the end, I never left her but once—once, when she was too weak to call me from the next room. So I went to buy a bell—Lizzie’s bell—but by the time I came back, she was hardly breathing. Then she took that one last gulp of air—”
He broke off eye contact and turned to the bay window instead, like he was hoping to see Lizzie come waltzing through the morning gloom.
Helena studied him in profile, the crumpled brow, the pale lips pressed tightly together as if to hold in the pain. The look of a mourner. He did know. He knew how strange a thing it is to watch someone die, to watch so long that death begins to make more sense than dying. And still, he stayed by her side.
When he looked back, his eyes pleaded with them. “For Kailani’s sake, for you and Jason, for all those who have benefited from the farm... don’t let your father’s death cloud your reason. Nothing you can do will bring him back.”
He was right. Nothing she could do would erase the fact of her father’s death. Even so, that didn’t mean....
She glanced past Sebastian to the narrow table and the flowerpot with the orchid growing in it. The face in the flower had changed. Now she saw a macabre clown, no longer laughing but mocking her: Such a good girl, Helena, always doing what’s expected of you, always being reasonable.
Her mind recoiled. Sebastian had given up, but she’d find a way to save Kailani. If she had to be reasonable, she’d use reason to find that way.
“Let’s say we agree,” she said carefully. “How do you propose we get her out of the farm?”
“I need your help to slip her past Benjamin’s men and take her to Grandmother Storyteller. Behind the statue, there’s an overgrown path that leads to a dirt road heading north to the highway. Jason knows that road—it’s where he runs.”
Helena’s heart began to race. A path out of the farm? A road heading north? She counted to three to slow herself down, and measured every word. “You win, Sebastian. It sounds like we have no choice. When’s the latest we can hand her over? I wa
nt all the time I can get with her.”
Jason turned, eyes questioning.
She cast a glance back, a look she knew he’d recognize, a secret code they’d used since childhood. Trust me.
“Before dawn Sunday,” Sebastian said. “For safety’s sake, she should be transferred in the dark. That’ll give you tomorrow to make your goodbyes.”
“How about an hour before sunrise?”
“An hour before sunrise, it is. I’ll make the arrangements with Carlson.”
Sebastian stood and went to the teapot, where he finally poured a cup for each of them. Then he reached for Lizzie’s bell, a ritual to seal the deal. He raised the bell, poised to ring it, but hesitated, regarding Helena curiously. After a second, he set it down, raised a cup instead, and took a sip of tea. His eyes never left hers.
When she could bear his stare no longer, she forced a nod. As she finished the gesture, she felt a prickling at the nape of her neck. Was that a door creaking? Surely she’d shut it when they came in.
She spun around. The door stood ajar, the narrowest of cracks showing.
No one there. Just her imagination running wild.
***
Jason remained quiet all the way back to the cabin, but Helena could tell his mind was churning.
Once inside, he stepped back from her and spoke. “What was that all about?”
She smiled at him, then closed the gap between them and pressed her lips to his. She felt her blood surge, the thrill of being close to him, the excitement of life reborn.
When they separated, he stared at her and wrinkled his brow. “What are you up to?”
“You know that adventure you were searching for when we were little? How you always told me to take a chance?”
He waited, and then nodded.
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Now may be the time.”
Chapter 37 – A State of Siege
When a knock came at the door, the secretary glanced up from his paperwork and scowled. He’d ordered his assistant to block all interruptions, hoping to finish by noon and make an early getaway for the weekend. The knocking became more insistent, a drumbeat impossible to ignore. He removed his glasses and checked the red numerals on the clock: 10:15 a.m. He grunted a response, and his aide barged in.
What now?
When the newly elected President had offered him the job, his first instinct was to decline. He’d put in his time, forty-two years starting at the bottom, building businesses the old-fashioned way with long hours, hard work and attention to detail. Now, at this stage of his life, he’d earned the right to take things easier. His interest in politics had always been self-serving, a way to protect his business interests, but the President was a hard man to turn down. He said the leadership of the department had become ceremonial, unlikely to be a burden. No crises had occurred in a generation.
Suddenly, the secretary had been thrust into the middle of an international incident, both crisis and opportunity. There’d been rumblings of change among the zealots, intelligence reports on the rise of a new generation of leaders. Limited contact had been made through back channels, and suddenly, Supreme Leader to President.
He’d been impressed by the Minister of Commerce, not what he’d expected from the other side, an educated man, earnest but practical. The story about this... daughter of the sea and the sky seemed farfetched, but in their meeting he’d recognized an impressive sincerity in the man across the table. He was either a great actor or telling the truth. No matter. The President’s orders were clear: find the girl as discreetly as possible and return her to the Blessed Lands.
Simple enough—or so he thought. No one slipped though the borders anymore, and his department kept impeccable records. If the girl had landed, she’d be found, but he hadn’t anticipated problems with his own people. Things were moving too slowly, and pressure from the President was building.
He sat up straight, reaching behind to adjust the custom-shaped pillow that supported his bad back, and accepted the folder from his aide. He scanned its contents. Progress had been made; a deal had been struck with the manager of the farm. The girl was to be turned over as demanded. Still, something smelled. Why wait till Sunday morning? Why not turn her over right away? Progress? Perhaps.
He hadn’t succeeded in business for forty-two years by trusting his adversaries. He’d learned to take no chances.
He removed his reading glasses and glared at his aide. “Get me the director of internal security ASAP.”
***
Friday, before dinner, as Sebastian finished up in his office he heard a ruckus coming from in front of the great house. He went to the foyer and approached the door, reached for the knob but stayed his hand. Instead, he brushed aside the lace curtain and peeked through the window.
Several dozen of Benjamin’s friends had gathered on the lawn, gawking at a scene across the bridge. At the far side, the entrance to the farm had been blocked by a phalanx of department agents in riot gear. They looked like modern-day gladiators, muscular and menacing with black shields, black flak jackets, and black helmets barely visible in the dim light of dusk. Only their faceplates reflected the setting sun, creating the illusion of floating heads—a hundred or more. Behind them stood a squadron of armored vehicles with domed turrets on top, their guns pointing at the great house.
How had it come to this? Strangers everywhere, troopers readying for battle, zealots eager to fight for their cause, and all the good people who’d benefited from the farm. Would it all be lost?
He staggered back to the office. The scheme he’d concocted with Carlson was on shaky ground, and he feared Helena might hatch some schemes of her own, unaware of the consequences of her choice. What if she refused to go along? The unreasonable show of force confirmed what Carlson had suspected: the secretary would be granting no reprieve.
He groped for alternatives, running through the litany that had served him so well over the years: gather data, lay out options, plan ahead. All that came to mind was a more ominous maxim: be prepared for the worst.
He stared out the bay window at the events swirling out of control. He was too old for this. His was an age when an unpleasant surprise meant a call to attend the funeral of an old friend—he even had a dark suit and a pair of dress shoes set aside for the occasion. He’d dutifully follow the hearse to the cemetery, stand over the open grave, and watch the casket lowered into the ground. Increasingly, as he smelled the moist earth and listened to the thud of shovelfuls of dirt landing on the coffin, he’d dwell on his own mortality, how one day soon these very thoughts would vanish from the world, apparently forever.
After Lizzie died, he’d dabbled with religious beliefs. Now, much closer to his death than his birth, it seemed like the Spirit should be foremost in his mind. Yet he clung to this world even more. Each morning, as he stepped from his cabin to discover he was still alive, the taste of the cold seemed sweeter, the smell of the pines much stronger. Each successive sunset seemed more spectacular, the texture of its colors more vivid. He studied the faces of farm members more closely, recounting their stories in his mind. Most of all, he wondered if the farm would survive.
He turned away from the scene outside to look at the more peaceful portrait of the great house in winter. He couldn’t take his eyes off it, afraid of what new surprise he might find if he looked away.
He’d bounced back from the edge of despair twice before, following the war and after Lizzie died. He was too old to bounce back again.
Chapter 38 – Lost and Found
After dinner Friday evening, Jason tried to focus on his work, but was distracted by Benjamin’s men shouting catcalls at the armed horde on the far side of the lawn. There’d be no respite from the crisis. Sunday’s deadline loomed and with it, the need for a decision on Helena’s plan.
He recalled Kailani thrashing about in the icy waters off Albion Point. At that moment, as he towed her back to shore, he thought he’d do anything to save her. When he was younger, he’d be
en a risk taker, always ready for an adventure. Why not now?
His thoughts were interrupted by the roar of a generator starting up, followed by a pale light streaming through the hallway. The catcalls grew louder. He rose from his chair and went to the front door to see what was going on. No surprise. As darkness settled in, the besieging force had illuminated the lawn, creating a brightly lit no man’s land. Without the cover of darkness, Benjamin’s men had retreated to the front steps of the great house to continue their chants.
Jason stomped back to the office, unable to watch anymore. When he arrived at his desk, he found a new message waiting on the encomm screen. It glared at him in bold letters bordered in red. Highest priority.
Jason-Adams. Comply with the Department of Separation and surrender the girl. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.
Apparently, the department’s reach extended even to Polytech management. The powers of reason were all aligned against them.
Helena’s plan was irrational. If they were caught, Kailani would be imprisoned, and the two of them as well.
“Madness,” he muttered as he grabbed the pointer to delete the message.
“Why are you talking to the screen, Jason?”
His hand froze. He spun around to Kailani standing in the doorway, still as the air before a storm and just as somber. He turned back long enough to hide the message and darken the screen.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough,” she said.
“What are you doing here? Where’s Helena?”
“I snuck away.” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger. “Helena’s been acting strange lately, and she won’t tell me what’s going on. Will you tell me, Jason?”
He took a runner’s breath and invited her in.
She came at once and settled on his lap.
“How’d you get away?”
The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky Page 24
