Select

by Patricia Reding

  Lucy told the others about how Lilith had abused Broden as an infant.

  “It was true then, that she harmed him. Dixon had surmised as much.” Therese shook her head. “How awful.”

  “Rowena didn’t want anyone to know—just in case Marshall had misunderstood something he’d seen or thought he’d seen. But she also didn’t want to risk Broden’s safety.”

  “Wait.” Basha held her hands out as though trying to physically stop Lucy. “You keep skipping around. You said Broden is Zarek’s son, that Rowena sent him to you to keep him safe from Lilith, but that she didn’t know of his father. So, what makes you think that—”

  “I don’t think it. I know it,” Lucy interrupted. “Zarek is Broden’s father.”

  “Wh— Why would you say that?”

  “Well,” Lucy said, “I didn’t know until Mara’s hearing with the Council after the twins were born.”

  “Mara knows?” Basha asked. “And she never said anything?”

  “And Dixon. They both know.” Lucy hesitated. “Oh, yes, and Marshall and . . . Nina.”

  Basha shook her head. “Why would they know? And why would you all keep this secret from the rest of us?”

  Lucy sighed, then told them about how, when Nina testified at Mara’s hearing, she told the Council that she recognized Lilith from her time in Chiran, and that while there, Lilith used the name “Semira.”

  “She acted as Zarek’s . . . consort,” she added.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” Basha argued.

  “Nina also said that when Lilith left Chiran, it was widely believed that she was pregnant. When I learned of these things, I did some quick math and concluded that the timing was right, based on when Lilith returned to the palace and when Broden was born.”

  Therese closed her eyes. “Thank goodness Broden doesn’t know.”

  “But he does.”

  “Lucy!” Basha exclaimed as she picked her napkin up from her lap and slapped it down on the table. “Would you kindly just fill in the details?”

  “Look, I don’t know how he knows. I only told one person in all these years—Marshall. It seemed right that he should know, but I asked him not to say anything to anyone.”

  “Maybe Marshall told him anyway.”

  “No, he wouldn’t have. Broden must have overheard me. In any case, he told the men who entered the compound the night he was captured. He offered to take Calandra’s place as their captive. So, unless he was just making it all up—and I can’t conceive of a reason why he would think to make up a story like that of all things—he must have heard me tell Marshall.”

  “Oh, dear Ehyeh,” Therese said. “Poor, poor Broden.”

  “There’s more.”

  “What? More? What now?”

  “Well, the night the intruders captured Broden, he was . . . armed.”

  “Armed?” Basha repeated. “Goodness, I’m afraid to ask. Armed with what?”

  Lucy looked away momentarily, then back. Her eyes seemed haunted. “Armed with . . . the great sword.”

  Basha’s mouth dropped open, her eyes widened.

  Therese, who’d been pacing, sat back down. She pushed her bowl of soup away. “I don’t think I can eat anymore,” she said. “What are we going to do?”

  Basha patted her charge’s hand in sympathy.

  “I don’t know,” Lucy said. “That’s why I came here. That sword in Zarek’s hands could be . . .” She approached the window, then gazed out. “I knew I had to find the two of you.” She turned back. “I didn’t know what else to do. I’m concerned for the girls and . . . Well, we need Mara and Dixon. But they don’t respond to my messages.”

  “Well, now,” Therese began slowly, “that could be a problem . . .” She looked at her Oathtaker, but directed her words to their visitor.

  “I knew it!” Lucy exclaimed. She sat down. “I knew something was wrong. You get angry at me for keeping secrets and here you—” She stopped short, folding her arms.

  “All right, Lucy,” Basha said, scooting her chair back. “We need to work together.”

  “What do you know?”

  Therese sighed. “Well, first, what’s to say that the twins aren’t already back with Mara? Maybe—”

  “No. Mara would have gotten word to us. I understand the girls trying to . . . spread their wings. I even applaud it on some level. I mean, how will they lead others if they don’t figure out some things for themselves? The truth is . . . I think they need to—and they’ve been well trained. But Mara? No. She’d have made sure we knew the twins were with her—that they were safe.”

  “You say you’ve heard nothing at all from Mara and Dixon?” Basha asked.

  “Nothing whatsoever. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. They haven’t responded to any of the messages I’ve sent via the compact.”

  Basha and Therese shared a silent glance.

  “They are not with Mara,” Lucy said. She watched her friends closely, and huffed. “So now, out with it. What’s going on?”

  Shrugging, Basha raised a brow. “Well, Dixon will probably have our heads for telling you—”

  “Telling me what?”

  “Well . . . when Mara hit her head, she . . . lost her memory,” Therese said.

  Once again, Lucy stood. She looked out at the sun, nearing the horizon. Sanctuary glowed.

  “I don’t believe it,” she said, turning back. “How could you have kept this secret? We might have done something to remove Mara. Ehyeh may have called another Oathtaker to aid the twins.”

  “That’s exactly why we didn’t tell you.”

  “What do you mean? Because I would have tried to keep them safe?” Her eyes glared.

  “No, Lucy, because Mara is right for them—and you know it,” Basha said. “It would have devastated the girls to lose her. They wouldn’t have forgiven you. What’s more, since they disappeared anyway, what difference does it make who is, or is not, their Oathtaker?” She sighed. “She’s going to be all right. I just . . . know it.”

  “And what if you’re wrong? What if you, and Dixon, and you,” she said, glancing Therese’s way, accusation in her voice, “are all wrong? What then?”

  “Then we trust in the Good One,” Therese said.

  Lucy slumped down on the edge of Therese’s bed. She dropped her head into her hands. “I don’t believe this is happening.”

  “We had good reason not to tell you.”

  She looked up. “Oh? And what would that ‘good reason’ be?”

  Therese sat beside her. “You know, we all love you, Lucy, even though you go around behaving as though you’re tough as nails, the mastermind behind everything, the one person with all the answers, the one person who no one else can get close to because it would intrude on your position of authority.” She reached out and turned Lucy’s face toward herself. “But you don’t,” she said with a gentle shake of her head. “You don’t have all the answers. We’re all struggling, and you’re struggling just like the rest of us.” She released the woman’s chin. “And, you know it. What’s more, we all know it as well. So you can stop pretending now.”

  Lucy’s eyes, hard and angry, bore into her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You do. You can stop pretending you have all the answers, because you don’t.”

  Lucy stood abruptly. “Well!”

  “Don’t go.” Therese reached for her hand, then pulled her back to the edge of the bed. “Here. Sit here.”

  Lucy sat, but refused to look at Therese.

  “You know, Lucy, when I was growing up, my parents were absolutely unable to admit that they could ever be wrong about anything. They believed themselves—and thought my sisters and I believed them to be—right about everything. They thought everything they did was the correct thing to do, that they were faultless, infallible. They couldn’t admit error. They could never admit they might not have the answer, or that they might be wrong about something. And you know the worst part of all that?”r />
  Lucy looked away, silent.

  “It meant that they could never apologize, because to apologize would be to admit they’d been wrong about something in the first place. They created an enormous burden for themselves—one they didn’t have to carry. It was completely unnecessary.” Therese stroked Lucy’s hand.

  Still, the woman refused to look at her.

  “Lucy, don’t you see? The pressure is too much. No one is right all the time. No one is blameless or faultless about everything, every time. My parents would have done themselves a big favor if they’d been able to acknowledge that simple fact. And they would have taught us a big lesson if they could have apologized when they were wrong.” Therese hesitated. “Maybe—just maybe—Lilith would have learned something too.”

  “You don’t have to have all the answers, Lucy,” Basha said. “That is, you don’t have to behave as though you have all the answers for everything.”

  Lucy’s eyes darted her way.

  “Give yourself a break. Join us lowly mortals in the land of the living.”

  She sighed. “I suppose you’re right.”

  Therese grinned. “Good. Dixon wanted to give Mara a chance to rest and to recuperate. We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to overreact and because the twins were safe. Or at least we thought they were safe . . . with the rest of us at the compound. Of course, now that they’re gone, things have changed. But we—Dixon, Basha, and I—all agreed that Mara deserved that much.” She hesitated. “But you know, you still haven’t explained why you aren’t searching for Reigna and Eden. Surely, you could have picked up on their trail. Yes?”

  “Actually,” Lucy said, looking at the floor, “there’s a good reason I didn’t pursue them.”

  Basha scowled. “And what good reason would that be?”

  “Prophecy is coming into play.”

  “Oh?”

  Lucy explained the prophecy about the moons. “So maybe that explains Mara’s condition, as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Shaking her head, Lucy looked up. “I think they have to make it through this alone. Mara’s presence might have held them back.”

  “I see.”

  “So now what?” Lucy asked.

  “You’re asking us?” Basha chuckled. “Why,” she said, glancing her charge’s way, “we have no idea whatsoever!” They laughed together.

  Lucy tried to hold back her grin, but smirked nonetheless.

  “Here. Have something to eat, Lucy,” Therese said. “We’ve a lot to figure out. We may as well start with full stomachs, as empty ones.”

  “Good idea.” Lucy was silent for a moment. Then she went to the table, sat down, and reached for the food. “These stuffed phyllo things here are some of my favorites. We’ll have to get Adele to make them at the compound.”

  Basha and her charge grinned at how quickly the woman could turn her attention to other things.

  Late into the night, the women considered and planned their next moves. After much arguing and bantering, they determined that Basha and Therese would remain on the course they’d originally set for themselves. That is, they’d stay for a bit at sanctuary and devise a plan for identifying all the remaining Select in Oosa. Meanwhile, Lucy would study. Ehyeh only knew what might come of Broden having taken the great sword with him to Chiran. Her worry for it was second only to her concern for the twins’ safety. But as much as she loved Broden, she had to admit that her concern for him came in a distant third.

  When morning arrived, Basha and Therese rose late. They broke their fast with blueberry scones and juice, then went to the library. The front desk attendant informed them that Lucy had arrived hours earlier and was deep in study. They found her in one of the most protected rooms in the building, sitting on the floor between two shelves in which the library staff kept the oldest works.

  She held up a book, reading. In her lap rested a pile of several more, and scattered on the floor around her, were various additional tomes and scrolls. Their worn covers and threadbare bindings, attested to their age.

  Basha and Therese tried to greet her, but already deep in her studies, she waved them away.

  Next, they stopped at the Office of Records. A young woman dressed in simple undecorated attire, greeted them. Periodically, she brushed aside her long curly hair, her only unique feature. She wore it, not altogether successfully, tied back in a ponytail. Sprigs and unruly wisps of it danced around her face.

  “Oh, you’ll be wanting to see Skylar Hadwin then,” she said. “The Council asked him to sit in as Chief Recordkeeper while they seek a replacement for the last person who served. You’re in luck. The professor is in today, and I believe he’s in his office now.” She pointed down the hall.

  When the women arrived at the professor’s door, they found it open. Ages old posters promoting the Oathtakers’ Guild decorated the walls. Stacks of paper, books, and files, covered a desk in the center of the room. Behind it, nearly lost in the disarray, sat the man himself.

  Basha knocked on the doorjamb.

  “Yes?” he inquired, peeking out from beneath his frosty, unruly eyebrows. His beard, which hung to his chest, hid his mouth, while what little hair there was on the top of his head, poked out in every direction.

  “Professor Hadwin?”

  He put down his book. “Yes?”

  The Oathtaker smiled. “Well, imagine my delight to learn—just minutes ago—that the most renowned teacher and historian in all of Oosa is currently sitting in as the Chief Recordkeeper.”

  He rose. “Skylar Hadwin, at your service.”

  “Thank you.” She took his hand. “I’m Basha. Basha Constant. I took your class years and years ago. But, of course, I wouldn’t expect you to remember me.”

  “Oh, yes, I remember you! You wrote your final thesis on the significance of the scent of the Select.”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Excellent work. Excellent. I still refer to it from time to time.”

  “Well, I’m honored, Professor Hadwin.”

  “Oh, please, just ‘Skylar’ to you.”

  “Thank you . . . Skylar. Your words flatter me.” She turned to her charge. “You might know Therese here. Therese Vala.”

  “Vala?”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Therese approached.

  “Lilith’s sister.” The professor inhaled deeply, no doubt taking in the woman’s fine scent, which identified her as a member of the Select who’d earned Ehyeh’s favor. It was a soft combination of water lily, amber, wild tuberose, vanilla, and tiare flowers. Mixed in were the fruity scents of apricot, apple, mandarin and guava, and laced in with those, lingered a hint of dark chocolate.

  Therese dipped her head. “Well, of course I’d prefer to be identified as Rowena’s sister.” She didn’t offer that she and Skylar knew one another because, before Rowena had released her powers to her offspring, her siblings all had been in the direct line of succession. Thus, they knew the identity of the Council members, though their Oathtakers did not. For his part, Skylar kept his membership secret from everyone apart from those of the first family who at any given time were in the direct line of succession, and to the Oathtaker to the current ranking member.

  “Yes, of course. Of course. No offense intended. It’s just that some things are hard to . . . forget.” He ran his fingers down his beard. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m surprised we didn’t meet years ago.” He motioned to two chairs. “Then again,” he said as he looked away, “you were missing for some time, were you not?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “I’d enjoy sometime, hearing how you managed all that while to—well, to circumvent the power of your bond to Basha.”

  Therese glanced at her Oathtaker. Even after having been reunited some years ago, she still felt guilty about not having informed Basha of her whereabouts when she stayed away from the palace in fear for her life. She knew she’d put Basha through a great deal during that time.

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nbsp; She turned back to Skylar. “I’d be happy to discuss it with you sometime . . . Professor.”

  “So, what brings you two here?”

  “Well, Professor Hadwin—” Basha started.

  “Skylar.”

  “Yes, of course.” She found it difficult not to use a title for someone she held in such high regard. “Well . . . Skylar, we’re on a mission to number and identify the remaining Select in Oosa and, if possible, the number of trained Oathtakers, including those who’ve survived their charge, as well as those who’ve never had one. We’d also like to determine their whereabouts.”

  He furrowed his bushy brows. “That is a rather unusual request. We value the privacy of—”

  “Yes, of course,” she interrupted. “But this is an unusual request for an unusual time.” She took in a deep breath. “You see, we’ve been living for a time with Rowena’s youngest daughters.”

  “The seventh seventh and ‘she who is but is not,’” he said.

  “That’s right,” said Therese, acknowledging his reference to ancient prophecy. “To make a long story short, the . . . compound . . . where we’ve been living, has been under attack for some time.”

  “Attack?”

  “Yes, but there’s more,” Basha said. “We believe that the enemy entered Oosa from Chiran.”

  Once again, he furrowed his brow. Of course, he knew some of these details from Mara, who currently headed the Council, and from Lucy, who also sat on the Council, but he couldn’t acknowledge what he knew without giving away to Basha that he too, was a member of that august body.

  “I heard someone kept the girls safe somewhere,” he said.

  “A number of us are concerned about what may be coming next from Chiran. We thought we should try to determine our potential strength.”

  “Hmmm. Who is ‘we?’”

  Basha grinned. “Friends of ours who also live at the compound, and Lucy Haven, who sanctioned this mission. In fact, she’s here, at sanctuary, now. I believe most of the ranks of the Oathtakers’ leadership hold her in considerable esteem.”