Select

by Patricia Reding

  “There probably isn’t much there of interest. Mara and I went through them when we were last here. But if you find anything worthwhile, we can take it back with us.”

  “Hmmmm.” Therese moved the books aside, one at a time. “Maybe this one,” she said.

  “What is it?”

  “When the Two May Overcome. Sounds prophetic. Mara must have missed it the last time she was here.”

  “Not—shall overcome?” The Oathtaker leaned in to look at the title for herself.

  “No—may overcome. I suppose it has something to do with prophecy being only as good as those about whom it’s written. So they may overcome—should they choose the right path.”

  “Sounds interesting. Let’s take it. Anything else?”

  Therese resumed her search. “Yes, there’s a history of Chiran here.” When she picked up the book, a cloud of dust filled the air.

  “There’s a lot we don’t know about Chiran.”

  “Right. We’ll take this one, too.”

  Basha put her hands to her hips. “Well, I suppose we should go through everything here.”

  “Yes . . . just one thing though.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The look of these walls!” Therese exclaimed. “It’s like blood is running down them. It gives me the creeps.” She shuddered. “What do you say we do this tomorrow—when we can let some real light into this place?”

  Basha grinned. “Agreed.”

  “You know, on second thought, maybe we should leave things here as they are for now. Then if—when—Mara comes back, she might take another look.”

  “That works for me.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  For several days, Basha and Therese went through the palace, emptying and refilling closets, tossing aged and unusable items, opening drawers to shuffle through papers and documents, and examining the contents of cabinets, all in an effort to bring some order and majesty back to the ancestral home of the first family of the Select. Having found Mae’s portrait hidden behind shelves of discarded goods in the lower reaches of the palace, Basha returned it, to Therese’s delight, to its rightful place on the wall from whence Lilith had removed it.

  Along the way, they gathered items, including books that they thought might be useful. Finally, they arranged for some local townspeople to maintain the place and to care for Bernard until the family returned.

  Once done, they made their way to the City of Light. Upon their arrival, they headed straight to sanctuary.

  Many Oosian cities hosted a sanctuary, the most notable being the one at Polesk. The first building of its kind, the Select had raised it after they left their former lands where others had enslaved and imprisoned them, and came to rest in the place they called Oosa. Eventually, those who moved to the City of Light designed their sanctuary after the one in Polesk. Situated on a hill in the center of a large estate, reminiscent of a park, the grounds sat in the midst of the oldest part of the city. Glistening in the late afternoon sunlight, sanctuary stood out like a beacon to anyone who sought refuge from worldly pains and cares.

  The women stopped in the stables where they arranged for their horses to be cared for. Then they headed for the main building. The staircase that directed visitors to its front doors, rose up before them. Deep grooves, indentations that testified to the countless souls that had come and gone before, marked each step.

  At the top of the stairs, they got their bearings. A walkway to one side lead to a library and research center. On the other side, a path ran to a training center where young Oathtakers had over the centuries, spent years in training. Each hoped that one day, Ehyeh would call him to serve a member of the Select. Gardens, topiaries, benches and tables, dotted the grounds. Followers, scholars, and visitors, leisurely made their way from place to place.

  The women waded through the crowds toward the main building.

  “Let’s stop here first,” Therese said, “just for a minute.”

  They entered the main building.

  “I never tire of this place,” Therese murmured as her eyes scanned the foyer. Three windows of stained glass graced either side, and one sat directly forward. Collectively, they depicted the symbols and meanings of the firsts through the sevenths of the Select.

  In the first window on one side, the rendition of a seed, just bursting forth, illustrated the first principle, that of life and of new beginnings. A picture of two people, symbolizing unity, primarily between man and wife, the second principle, graced the next window. The third signified the fragile relationship of service to the Good One in mind, body, and spirit, with its display of three simple interwoven rings.

  On the other side, the first window represented the fourth principle. Relating to the foundational institutions upon which civilized life depends—sanctuary, family, society, government—it was of a building with an emphasis on its cornerstone. Next, a complicated mosaic of all life forms, from the most simple to the most advanced, identified the fifth principle, man’s relationship to nature. Then came a rendering of a multitude of faces, displaying every skin, eye, and hair color, and showing a variety of shapes and sizes. It represented the sixth principle—the importance and crucial value of mankind.

  The seventh such window, the one straight ahead, set forth the portrayal of a beautiful woman in simple attire, surrounded by a scaled down copy of each of the first through sixth principles. They symbolized the wisdom acquired through completion and balance, the seventh principle. Finally, directly above, domed ceiling windows replicated the night sky.

  Paintings glorifying life and beauty covered the walls, while scattered about the entryway, sculptures sat perched on stands, for the viewing enjoyment of sanctuary visitors.

  “Remember the mess here after Lilith called up the grut that day—the day she tried to kill the girls?” Therese asked.

  “Yes. It’s amazing how long it took for the Council to complete the renovations. But you’d hardly know now that anything happened here.”

  They watched in silence for several minutes before quietly entering the portion of the main sanctuary building reserved for prayer and reflection. After several quiet minutes there, they left.

  Walking the pathway to the lodging house, only the sounds of their boots crunching on the gravel beneath their feet, interrupted the quiet that surrounded them.

  Planters of herbs sat at either side of the front entrance filling the warm air with the piney scent of rosemary, and the clean, sweet smell of lavender.

  Therese bruised a stalk of the lavender and breathed in deeply of its perfume. Then she stepped aside, allowing her Oathtaker to enter the building first. She closed the door behind them.

  They approached the front desk, behind which sat a slight young man. His overlarge ears, tipping out from the sides of his head, lent him an almost comical look.

  “Excuse me?” Basha stifled her grin. She surmised that many had teased the young man about his ears. She could hear his tormentors now. “What are those for? Flying?” they might have asked. Or perhaps they’d suggested, “If you don’t have room in your pockets to store your things, you might use your ears.”

  “Ahhh . . . yes, ma’am.” The clerk put down his book and brushed his clean, dark hair away from his sparkling brown eyes.

  The Oathtaker read the name on his badge. “Jacob?”

  “That’s right. Can I help you?”

  She smiled. “We’re here to see to some duties for the first family. You might recognize Therese, here.” She gestured toward her charge at her side.

  “Ahhhhh, oh, of course!” the young man exclaimed. He jumped to his feet, then bowed slightly. Standing straight again, he threw his shoulders back. “Welcome. Welcome! Ahhhhh . . . will you require accommodations?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Well . . . let’s see what I can, ahhhh . . . find for you.” He reached for a book situated on the corner of his desk and opened it. “One room or two?”

  “One.”

  H
e looked back to his book, then turned the page. “Ahhhhh, here we go . . . Yes . . . Ahhhhh, yes, here we go!” He looked up at his newest guests. “We’ve been holding a room for you.” He turned to a rack of keys hanging on the wall behind, then selected one.

  “Holding a room?” the Oathtaker asked, her eyes narrowed.

  Jacob handed the key to her. “Ahhhh, room two-twenty-one. Ahhhhh, sign here, please.” He paused, watching as she did. “Right. Ahhhh, Lucy Haven said, ahhhh . . . said you’d be here shortly.”

  “Lucy!” Therese exclaimed. “She’s here?”

  “She is. Will you, ahhhhh . . . want to see her right away then? She checks in regularly to see if you’ve ahhhh . . . arrived. I told her that I’d ahhhh . . . keep an eye out for you.”

  “Lucy’s here. Now?” Basha repeated, as she turned the journal back toward the young man.

  “She’s in room two-nineteen. It’s right, ahhhhh, right next to yours.”

  The Oathtaker glanced at her charge. She raised her brow. Then she turned her attention back to Jacob. “When did she arrive?”

  “Oh,” Jacob said, looking off as though the answer to Basha’s question might be found in the air, “a . . . a couple days ago, I think. Yes.” He nodded, then shook his head. “No. No, that’s not right. It was . . . ahhhhh . . . three days ago.” He nodded again. “Yes, that’s right. Yes. Three days ago.”

  “Do you have any idea what brought her here?”

  He smiled. “None whatsoever. But, Lucy is . . . ahhhh . . . a common . . . ahhhh . . . visitor. If you like, I can . . . ahhhhh . . . send someone to assist you in getting situated and send word to Lucy of your arrival.”

  “Yes, please do,” Basha said as she, then Therese, turned to the stairs leading up their room. “Oh,” she said, turning back, “could we get a light meal sent up?”

  “Certainly.”

  The women made their way up the stairs, then down the hall. Their steps click-click-clicked on the hardwood floors.

  Basha opened the door to their room and they both stepped inside.

  Two beds, each covered with a handmade quilt of ivory and forest green, a braided throw rug, a desk and chair for working, and a table with two chairs, furnished the space. Upon the plain white walls, candle sconces hung.

  The Oathtaker dropped her things on the bed closest to the door. She always stayed nearest the exit, so she’d be first to the defense if it proved necessary. Though assassination attempts on the Select had been few in the past years, that fact was no doubt in part due to the reality that so few of them remained. Of those still living, a number now called Lucy’s compound their home.

  Therese plopped down on the side of her bed. She started to untie her boots.

  “Let me—ahhhhh—help,” Basha said.

  Therese grinned. “That’s not nice of you.”

  Basha chuckled. “I know. I mean no . . . ahhhh . . . harm.”

  Therese laughed outright. “Yes, Jacob does have a rather annoying speech pattern. Still . . .”

  “Say no more. I won’t let him hear me making fun.” Basha pulled Therese’s boots off.

  “What do you suppose Lucy is doing here?”

  “No idea.” The Oathtaker scowled. “You don’t suppose she’s heard anything about Mara’s condition, do you?”

  A knock sounded out.

  As Basha turned to answer the call, the door opened. She reached for her blade, then visibly relaxed when she saw who entered.

  “What’s this? About Mara’s condition?” Lucy asked as she stepped inside.

  “Hello, to you too, Lucy,” Therese said.

  “What condition?” Lucy repeated, as though she hadn’t heard the greeting.

  “Lucy, it’s unkind to eavesdrop,” Basha said.

  “What did you mean—about Mara’s condition?” she asked yet again, her voice more insistent.

  “I didn’t say ‘condition.’”

  “Sure you did.”

  Basha looked at her charge, then back to their visitor. “Like I said, it’s unkind to eavesdrop. It’s also rude and—”

  “What did you mean?”

  “And, as I was saying,” Basha continued, speaking over the woman, “you might misunderstand.”

  “I heard you. I didn’t misunderstand.”

  “I’m afraid you did.”

  Lucy stared at Basha.

  Basha stared back. Finally, she broke eye contact, shook her head, and sighed. “Very well. I said, ‘suspicion.’”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Mara was suspicious about something? What?”

  “Oh, great Ehyeh, Lucy, stop it!” Therese ordered. She pulled a chair out for her. “What brings you here anyway? Why did you send us here if you were coming anyway? Did Mara and Dixon return to the compound?”

  Lucy, frowning, turned her gaze first to Therese, then to Basha, then back again. Her gestures spoke volumes. Clearly, she thought they were being dishonest with her, or that they concealed something from her.

  She sat down with a sigh. “Oh, Basha. Therese!” She dropped her head into her hands. “Where’ve you been?” She looked back up. “I’ve been watching and waiting for you. It’s all just so horrible!”

  Basha sat on her chair, facing backward, resting her arms on its top rail. “What happened?”

  “It’s the girls. They left the compound. And we don’t know where they are.”

  “What?” Basha jumped to her feet. “Why aren’t you out looking for them?”

  “You’ve no idea where they are?” Therese asked.

  “None whatsoever.”

  “Great Ehyeh!” Basha exclaimed.

  “And that’s not all.”

  “Well at least nothing could be worse,” Therese said, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  “I don’t know about ‘worse,’ but it’s something terrible nonetheless.”

  “What is it?” Basha asked, sitting again, then leaning forward. “What happened?”

  “Broden was taken captive.”

  “Captive!” Basha and Therese exclaimed together. Their eyes flashed at one another, then settled on their guest.

  Lucy explained how the twins had left the compound and how, a short time later, intruders attacked and then took Broden hostage.

  “They killed Calandra?” Basha asked. “Oh, dear Ehyeh!” Tears pooled in her eyes. “Poor, poor Nina. How will she ever survive the loss of yet another child? And what of Carlie? Did you ever find her? Oh, gracious!”

  “Oh, no. No, Calandra is fine. Actually, they did stab her, and left her for dead, but she’s all right now—physically anyway. Kayson arrived in time to heal her. As to Carlie, well . . . we had no luck finding her. Broden found one of her saddlebags, but that was all.”

  “Oh,” Therese held her hand to her chest, as though willing her heart to calm down, “the poor, dear children.”

  “Yes, well, Calandra was very brave. And Nina, as you can imagine, was very upset.”

  “Where did the intruders come from? Did you learn that much at least?” Therese asked.

  “Yes. Zarek sent them.”

  “Zarek! Thank goodness the girls weren’t there.”

  A knock came at the door. Basha answered it.

  “Ahhhh, I hope this will be acceptable,” Jacob offered as he set a tray on the table. “The . . . ahhhhh . . . soup of the day is . . . ahhhhh chicken and pancetta wild rice in a creamed broth. The bread is fresh out of the oven. Oh, and I . . . ahhhhh . . . I took the liberty of bringing some . . . ahhhhh . . . butter along.” He uncovered the food. “Yes, and some . . . ahhhhh, some phyllo wrapped spinach and almonds.” He looked up to face the women. “Oh! I see Lucy found you then.”

  “Yes, Jacob. And lunch sounds wonderful,” Basha said.

  “Oh, ahhhhh, yes . . . and one more thing,” he said as he arranged the fare on the table. “A carafe of wine and the makings for tea.”

  “Thank you, Jacob.”

  “Is everything . . . ahhhhh, to your . . . ahhhhh, liking, then?”
He approached the windows, then opened the curtains, allowing the late afternoon sunlight in. “You have a . . . a lovely view of . . . ahhhhh . . . of sanctuary from here.”

  “It’s all just perfect, Jacob,” Therese said.

  “Yes, ahhhhh, thank you, again,” Basha said, then quickly held her lips closed to keep herself from chuckling at her unintentional copying of the man’s speech pattern when Therese scowled at her.

  The young man didn’t react to her comment. He merely bowed, then made his way to the door. “Just . . . ahhhhh . . . let me know if you require anything further.” He slipped out and closed the door.

  “Shame on you, Basha,” Therese scolded.

  “What?” she asked, feigning ignorance.

  “Making fun of him like that.”

  Basha grinned. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I promise. It just—it just ahhhh, it just—ahhhhh . . . Ha ha ha ha ha!” she laughed.

  Therese grinned. Then, though she tried to hold it back, she laughed along.

  “What’s so funny?” Lucy asked.

  Basha raised a brow and stared at the woman, then turned her attention back to her charge, grinning and shaking her head. Lucy had no sense of humor. “Never mind.” She bit her lip. “So anyway, Lucy, why did they take Broden? I mean, of all the people they might have captured, he’d be useless to Zarek. He’s not an Oathtaker, so he has no power, and he’ll never be in the line of succession among the Select.”

  Lucy pursed her lip and grimaced. “Well, there’s something you don’t know.”

  Basha’s shoulders sagged. She drew her chair toward the table, opened her napkin, and placed it in her lap. “Dear Good One, Lucy, you insist we share every little detail with you, then you go keeping secrets.” She took a spoonful of soup, blew on it to cool it, then dropped it back into her bowl. “Honestly, if it weren’t for Reigna and Eden, sometimes I swear I’d just—”

  “Broden is Zarek’s son.”

  Basha and Therese went silent. Their eyes opened wide in surprise. Basha moved as though to speak, as though searching for words.

  “It’s true. But Rowena didn’t know that.”

  “Are you sure?” Basha asked. “I mean, we all knew Rowena must have had a good reason for taking him from Lilith, but . . . Well, maybe she took him because she knew he was Zarek’s son.”