White

by Ted Dekker

  “Anything.”

  “Exactly. Anything. You see, by leaving you can force their hands. If you stay, your life will be a mess, even if you turn me in.”

  A faint smile crossed her face.

  “But you have to understand that I have . . .”

  How to say this? He suddenly wished he hadn’t spoken.

  “What?” she demanded.

  “That I think I do have feelings for you,” Thomas said. “I can see you feel differently, but I wouldn’t feel right taking you out of here without being completely honest about my intentions.”

  This time she didn’t laugh. “Which are what? To win my love? Then let me be honest with you. I know how you albinos look at us. You find us repulsive. Our breath smells and our skin sickens you. I don’t know what kind of adolescent notion has climbed inside your head, but you and I could never be lovers.”

  “We could if you drowned.”

  “Never.”

  Thomas wondered then if he’d made a terrible mistake. But Michal had told him to follow his heart, and his heart was for this woman. Wasn’t it? The thought of leaving her terrified him, so yes. His heart was certainly for this woman.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you,” she was saying. She’d seen his pain. “I’m sorry. But you have your life and I have mine. I’m attracted to men like me. Men with my flesh.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then you understand?”

  “I understand. I don’t accept. I think I’ve seen more in your eyes.”

  “Even if there was, I could not act on it.” She stared at him without speaking, then walked to her wardrobe.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “I’m getting what I’ll need for a trip to the desert.”

  “Then you’re coming?”

  “As long as you agree to bring me back in exchange for a demand of my choosing.”

  “Yes. Agreed.” He suddenly felt antsy again. “You don’t need anything. We have to hurry.”

  “A woman needs what a woman needs,” she said, quickly placing several items in a leather bag. “There’s a tub of morst and some paste on the dresser.”

  “Do you really—”

  “It’s the scented kind I wore in the library. Trust me, you’ll be glad I brought it.”

  Thomas scooped up the small tub. She walked over and opened her bag. They exchanged a long stare, and he could swear that he was right. There was more behind those eyes than she admitted.

  Or maybe not.

  “Lead the way,” she said.

  He’d been called to the castle in the middle of the night, cause for concern even in peaceful times. Considering the events of the last few days, Woref feared the worst.

  This was to do with Chelise; he could feel it. He rode his horse down the street at a steady pace, but his blood was boiling already. There was no greater source of problems in the world than women. They loved and they killed, and even in their loving they killed. Man might do better to remove the temptation from the face of the earth. What good was love at such a terrible price?

  He dismounted, walked into the foyer, and drew back his hood.

  “Woref.” Qurong waited just inside the courtyard. “So glad my trusted general could make it.”

  Woref lowered his head in respect.

  “I was just awakened by some very bad news,” Qurong said. He was being too coy for this to be anything but horrible news. “One of your guards was found bound by the back fence.”

  Thievery?

  “He said that a man pretending to speak like a woman dropped over the fence, claimed to be your concubine, and knocked him out. A little while later, he returned with another woman and knocked him out again.”

  “I assure you, sir, he’s lying. I have no concubine.”

  “I don’t care about your lies, General! The second woman was my daughter. Chelise is gone!” He said it slowly and with a trembling voice.

  “How—”

  “The first ‘woman’ was Thomas, you idiot!”

  “Thomas of Hunter,” Woref said. “He took her.” Or did she go willingly?

  “The guard said she was being forced. Thomas told him to relay that his demand would be forthcoming. He will release Chelise when we comply.”

  She’s gone willingly, Woref thought. His face flushed but he didn’t show his anger.

  “Now it’s your life at stake,” the supreme leader said. “If one hair on my daughter’s head is harmed, I will hold you responsible. You told her she would be drowned, knowing full well that I would never drown her. You said it would teach her a lesson, and you leaked a word to call Thomas’s bluff. Now she’s gone.”

  “We aren’t without recourse, my lord. I’ve received word that my men are closing in on his tribe. He won’t have the only bargaining chip.”

  Qurong looked at him skeptically.

  “They’re without their leaders,” Woref said. “I’ve sent reinforcements. They can’t escape an entire division.”

  “It’s Chelise I want, not a pack of albinos!”

  “You will have Chelise. But only if I will have her!”

  Qurong scowled. “Find her!”

  28

  He tried, but he couldn’t sleep. And he wouldn’t dream, not until he had won her love, he decided. The virus would likely kill him in a few days’ time in the other reality, and he couldn’t allow that to interfere with this drama unfolding here. He would simply eat the rhambutan fruit every night. A week, a month, whatever it took. When he finally did dream, only hours would have passed where he now slept at the White House.

  He leaned against the rock beside Suzan, gazing at Chelise, who slept ten yards from them.

  “For goodness’ sake, sleep, Thomas,” Suzan whispered. “It’ll be light soon.”

  “I’m not tired.”

  “You will be. And you’re bothering me, sitting like that.”

  “You’re jealous?”

  “Of her? If you were another man, perhaps—no disrespect, but my heart is taken.”

  Surprise turned his full attention to Suzan. “Oh? You’ve never said anything.”

  “Some things are best kept quiet.”

  “Who is it?”

  “I won’t say. But you know him.” She propped herself up on her elbow. “I have to say, though, this new Thomas is quite impressive.”

  “There’s nothing new about me.”

  “I’ve never known you to lie awake gazing at a sleeping woman who doesn’t love you. Or act so interested in who I love. I’ve always thought you cared more about swinging a sword than wooing a woman.”

  “Obviously you’ve never known me. I wooed Rachelle in the colored forest, didn’t I?” He looked at the stars. “Those were the days when romance was thick in the air.”

  “I was too young to remember,” she said quietly.

  “Not anymore.”

  “So I take it you’re giving in to this impulse,” she said. “Wholeheartedly.”

  Thomas avoided a direct response. “We were born for the Great Romance.”

  “Of course.”

  “I am only following my heart.”

  “Maybe I could show you a few things myself, Sir Poet,” Suzan said.

  “Then reveal your man to us and let us watch how you court each other.”

  “Listen to you. You’re even speaking like a poet.”

  He grinned. “Nonsense. I always wax eloquent. My word was once my sword, but now it’s this song of love for the fair maiden who lies hither. Or is it thither?”

  “I can see I’ll have to teach you the finer points of poetry.”

  His eyes darted over to the sleeping woman, and he lowered his voice. “You want real poetry? Then hear this: I have lost my heart. It is owned by Chelise, this stunning creature who sleeps in peace. When she frowns I see a smile; when she scoffs I hear a laugh. We rode side by side for two hours, picking our way through the dark forest without a single word, but I heard her heart whispering words of love to me every time
her horse put its hoof on the ground. I cannot sleep now because love is my sleep, and I’ve had enough to last a week. She pretends not to love me, because the disease has filled her with shame, but I can see past her eyes into her heart, where she betrays her true desires.”

  Suzan chuckled. “If even half of that is true, then you are smitten, Thomas of Hunter.”

  His grin faded and he diverted his eyes. “It is.”

  Chelise suddenly moved. Turned her head toward them. “Are you two going to talk all night? I’m trying to sleep.”

  Thomas blinked. “You’re awake.”

  “And you’re talking too much. I don’t know how albinos court their women, but you might want to consider a little subtlety.”

  Silence filled the camp.

  “She has a point,” Suzan finally said.

  “I . . . I didn’t know you were listening.” Chelise was smiling, he could see it in the dark. “Okay, then, I guess it’s time to sleep.” He lay down, unsure whether he should be embarrassed or thrilled that she’d heard him.

  They lay quietly for a long time.

  Then Chelise spoke quietly. “Thank you, Thomas. They were kind words.”

  He swallowed. “You’re welcome.”

  She rolled over. “Just remember our agreement.”

  Yes, of course. Their agreement. He’d nearly forgotten.

  Chelise and Suzan let Thomas sleep as the sun rose. They’d both risen an hour earlier and decided that they could wait another hour before heading for the desert. The chance of any Scab stumbling upon them in the small canyon where they’d made camp was remote.

  Suzan had bathed in a small creek nearby, and Chelise decided that she would bathe as well. She waited until Suzan was finished before cau-tiously slipping into the water. Although she’d grown accustomed to the ritual bathing in the lake, the cold water stung her skin.

  If it weren’t for Thomas, she would never bathe in a stream, but she felt compelled to present herself in a manner that wasn’t offensive to the albinos. She bore the pain and washed her skin well. Then she carefully applied the scented morst using a small pool as a mirror. She picked several smaller tuhan flowers and placed the sweet-smelling blossoms in her hair. All of this for his sake.

  And why, Chelise? Why are you so concerned about pleasing Thomas? She couldn’t answer that question. Perhaps because he was so kind to her. Albino or not, he was a man, and she could hardly ignore this mad affection he’d displayed by rescuing her.

  Chelise faced Suzan, trying not to stare at her dark skin. So very different from her own white flesh. The pendant the albinos wore hung from her neck.

  “Why do you wear the pendant?” she asked Suzan.

  The albino lifted the medallion in her hand and looked at it. “These are the colors of the Circle. Green for the colored forest, then black for the evil that destroyed us all. Then red, you see?” She indicated the two crossing straps of red leather. “Justin’s blood. And finally, a white circle.”

  “And why white?”

  Suzan looked into her eyes. “White. We are Justin’s bride.”

  Such an odd way of seeing things. Foolish even. Whoever heard of being the bride of a slain warrior? Of course, they believed he was still alive.

  Absurd.

  Chelise looked at Thomas. “Should we wake him?”

  “I can’t believe he’s still sleeping.” Suzan smiled. “You must have worn him out last night.”

  “Ha! I think he’s wearing me out with all of his enthusiasm.”

  Suzan cinched down the extra saddle Thomas had brought from the city. “Do you feel anything for him?”

  Chelise hadn’t expected such a forward question. She didn’t know what to say.

  “There lies Thomas of Hunter, legend of the Forest Guard, and he’s falling in love with you, daughter of his nemesis, Qurong. It’s a fairy tale in the making.”

  “He’s an albino,” Chelise said.

  Suzan put her hand on the saddle and faced her. “That doesn’t mean he’s too good for you.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “No, but it’s what you feel. It’s why you bathed and why you cover your skin for him. For the record, I agree with Thomas. I think you’re quite beautiful. And I don’t think you have any idea how fortunate you are to have this man love you.”

  Chelise felt suddenly choked up. She looked at Thomas. There lay the king of the albinos. Or was Justin their king? Despite his attempt to wipe it off, the morst Thomas had applied last night still caked parts of his face.

  “It does feel good, though, doesn’t it?” Suzan asked.

  “What?”

  “Being loved.”

  She hesitated. “Yes.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so awkward. Was Thomas right in saying that she was covering her shame? And now Suzan had said the same thing. She’d never thought of it in those terms.

  “I think you deserve it,” Suzan said.

  The knot in her throat grew, and she had to swallow to keep from crying. Where the sudden emotion had come from, she didn’t know, but it wasn’t the first time the albinos had affected her so easily. The lessons in the library with Thomas had been similar.

  Chelise decided then, staring off into the forest so that Suzan couldn’t see her fighting tears, that she liked albinos.

  “Why don’t you wake him?” Suzan said. “We should leave.”

  Chelise walked over to him, glad for the reprieve. “Wake up.”

  He grunted and rolled his head, still lost to the world. She glanced at Suzan, but the woman was busy saddling another horse.

  She bent down and nudged him. “Wake up, Thomas.”

  He bolted up, looked around, then saw her and came to himself. He stood and brushed his cloak. “What time is it? You let me sleep?”

  “You looked tired.”

  He glanced at Suzan, then studied Chelise. “I’ll be right back,” he said and hurried in the direction of the creek. This obsession the albinos had with cleanliness was interesting.

  Thomas returned ten minutes later, beaming face clean of the morst. “I feel like a new man. No offense, but the stuff makes my skin itch.”

  “Really? I find it quite soothing.”

  “It suits you. The white flowers are a perfect complement.”

  She smiled. “Thank you.” Did he really think she was beautiful, or was he patronizing her?

  They mounted and headed south away from the city, toward the desert. Thomas led them along a game trail, far from any well-traveled routes.

  They rode without speaking for an hour, Suzan bringing up the rear. Chelise finally broke the silence.

  “Did you dream well, Thomas?”

  “I didn’t dream at all. I ate the rhambutan.”

  “I thought you wanted to dream. I nearly lost my life over your dreaming.”

  “I’ve made a vow: no dreams while I’m with you.”

  She didn’t know what he could possibly have in mind, but she didn’t press for an explanation.

  Thomas brought his horse closer to hers. “Have you decided what we should demand for your return?”

  “We could trade me for Woref, like you suggested,” she said. “You could turn him into an albino. That would serve the beast.”

  Thomas chuckled. “Unfortunately, the drowning only works if it’s done willingly. Otherwise we would round up Scabs in bunches and shove them under, wouldn’t we, Suzan?”

  “It’s been suggested,” she said.

  Chelise shuddered. “What an awful death that would be.”

  “Do I look dead?” Thomas asked. “Alive like you’ve never known.” He stretched out his arm. “When I move my arm, no pain in my joints. And not just because I’ve grown used to it.”

  The thought of drowning terrified her. She had grown so accus-tomed to the pain in her own joints that she simply ignored it most of the time.

  “We could demand sanctuary for your Circle,” Chelise said.

  “You’d do that?”

>   She shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Suzan, I think she’s warming up to us.”

  Just yesterday she would have responded with a cutting remark to set him straight. Any such comment felt silly now. She let it go.

  “Maybe we should let my father stew for a day or two,” Chelise said. “I am not in a position to blackmail him very often.”

  “Perfect. Then we’ll wait a week.”

  “A week? I wouldn’t know what to do with myself for a week out here.”

  “You’ll ride with us.”

  “And where, exactly, are we riding?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he said. “Away from the Horde. Out of danger. Would you like to visit our Circle?”

  “No, no. I couldn’t do that. They would be horrified by me! And I by them. Anywhere but one of your tribes.”

  He smiled. “Then we’ll just head south. As long as I’m with you to keep you safe, and you’re comfortable, we’ll ride.”

  She couldn’t look at him without feeling uncomfortable. “Sounds fair.”

  The sun passed overhead and began its descent toward the western horizon. Suzan rode ahead several times to scout out the route, and at times Chelise wondered if Thomas and his lieutenant hadn’t planned the lengthy disappearances so that Thomas could be left alone with her. Not that she minded.

  He told her stories of his days as commander of the Forest Guard, and she reciprocated with memories of her days in the desert: how they made use of the desert wheat, where they found their water, what it was like to grow up playing with other children who weren’t of royal blood.

  He seemed especially taken by her stories of the children and asked dozens of questions about how they learned to cope with the disease, as he called it. He really did think of their skin condition as an abnormality. And, of course, it was to him, as his condition was to her. But, as she pointed out, if you took the world as a whole and compared the millions of Scabs with only a thousand albinos, who was abnormal? And who was diseased?

  He graciously let the subject go. There was no reconciling their diseases.

  “I met you once in the desert,” he said with a grin.