Solomon's Journey

by James Maxstadt

  “Yes! Please, do whatever you would have under him. Why didn’t Solomon have you helping him?”

  Samuel shrugged. “I’m not sure. Perhaps he didn’t know I existed either.”

  That made Shireen feel a little guilty. In truth, there was no reason for her to know a lot of the administrative people. She was a scout, and her circle had extended to others in those branches. Soldiers, archers, horsemen, and so on.

  But still, this man had helped make everyone’s lives a little easier, and she should have been more aware.

  “Well,” she said, “when he gets back, I’ll make damn sure he knows who you are.”

  Samuel bowed his head. “Thank you. Now, if you don’t need me at the moment, I’ll return to my desk and start catching up. Please yell out if you need me, and I’ll come to you.”

  “Where’s your desk?”

  Samuel looked at her strangely. “In the room right outside of this one, of course.”

  “That what that’s for?!”

  To his credit, Samuel didn’t quite smile. “Yes, Lady Shireen. That is the aide’s office. It’s where I will work and will stop any potential visitors who don’t have appointments.”

  “Wow,” Shireen shook her head and settled down behind the desk. “Solomon really didn’t know what he was doing.”

  Chapter 6

  She could see the child from her hiding place. Why the child was out now, with evening coming on, was anyone’s guess, but it couldn’t be for a good reason. Parents gone, dead, taken, who knew? Or maybe she was a runaway, feeling that braving the evening and its terrors was better than what she faced at home. Regardless, she wouldn’t be long for this world, or any other.

  The woman sighed and moved deeper back into the shadows cast by the overhanging thatch roof. The rough wood of the alley wall scratched her back, but she held herself still. As much as she didn’t want to see what was going to happen, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. Maybe the girl would move on; then she wouldn’t have to watch.

  “Come on!” she whispered to herself. The girl couldn’t have been more than seven or eight, old enough to know that standing in the middle of the street was no way to hide.

  As the woman watched, the sun sank a fraction lower in the sky and the shadows lengthened. The girl looked about her, her face miserable and tears running down her cheeks.

  “No,” the woman said to herself. “It’s not my problem. I’m not the one to do anything about this.”

  She was moving toward the street before she even knew she was going to do it. Slowly, she leaned out from between the rough buildings, looking in both directions. So far, nothing.

  The girl hadn’t seen her yet. “Psst! Hey!”

  For a moment, the girl still didn’t see her, but she did hear the woman and looked around, her eyes wide and frightened.

  “Over here!” The woman kept her voice as quiet as she could, almost hissing at the girl. “Yes, that’s it. Come on! You’re going to get taken!”

  The girl still didn’t move. She watched the woman with the same kind of mistrust and fear that everyone in this city had all the time.

  The whistles started from up the street to the woman’s right. It was still a short distance off, but if they were close enough to be heard then they were in danger.

  “Come on!” She tried again, stepping out of the alley all the way, so the girl could see her fully. “I’m not going to hurt you. You have to hurry!”

  The girl took a hesitant step forward, then stopped. She still watched the woman, but when the noise came from up the street again, nearer now, she turned to face it.

  “No! Don’t look that way! Come with me!”

  Finally, the girl started toward the woman, slowly at first, then in a panicked run. The woman grabbed her and ducked back into the shadows, barely glimpsing the figures coming down the street. With luck, they hadn’t been seen.

  She held the girl close and pulled her further into the alley, pressed to the wall, moving quickly, but carefully. If she tripped on an errant piece of garbage and fell, there was a good chance they’d both be caught.

  The noise came close and the woman froze, holding the little girl in a tight embrace, keeping her head turned from the street. The woman kept her eyes glued to entrance of the alley, waiting to see a head appear around it, the white mask peering eyelessly in, searching for her.

  She held her breath, afraid that even that noise would be enough to draw them in.

  There. They slowly walked by the alley, four of them, all dressed in different bright colors. One was tall and thin, as she was, dressed in bright red. Another, shorter, stockier, in emerald green. Followed by two who could have been twins, the same height as the heavier one, but leaner, dressed in brilliant blue and a shocking orange. Their hair was done in different crazy styles, sticking up in horns and whorls. And all of them with those stiff, white masks.

  The one in green glanced into the alley as they passed, and the woman stayed as still as a statue, hoping the girl knew enough to do the same. Nothing to see here, she thought, willing them to pass on. Just another piece of the wall, just another dirty smudge.

  Her hopes were answered and the four passed without stopping. Either they hadn’t seen her, or they were after something else this evening. The strange whistling noise occurred again when they were out of her sight. It rose, skirling higher, then plunging to a deeper note before ending. It was answered by a quick stuttering type of whistle, and then silence again.

  The whistles were the only sounds they made. The woman didn’t know if that was what passed for speech among them or if it was made to unnerve others. Either way, it was unsettling.

  She breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed slightly. It wasn’t unheard of for them to double back. Other people had hidden in alleys and been taken when the group split up, coming in from each end after their quarry was sure they passed by.

  “Come on,” she said quietly to the little girl. She let her out of her embrace and took the girls hand and edged toward the end of the alley. “It’s going to be all right,” she muttered when the girl tried to hang back.

  They quietly approached the street and the woman slowly leaned out of the tentative safety again.

  The one in red, the tall one, was waiting for her, staring at her from that featureless white mask. It had no eyeholes, none for the mouth or nose, and no visible way that it was attached to the head, but it was looking right at her.

  She screamed and ducked back into the alley, turning to run, only to see the twins coming from the other end, walking slowly, in no hurry to get to her. They had all the time in the world.

  The woman spun back, to find the tall one directly behind her, the shorter one in green right behind that one.

  The one in red reached for her, its arms seeming impossibly long, but she ducked from its grasp. Rather than running, which it would have expected, the woman jumped forward, her hand balling into a fist and striking the figure in the throat. It staggered back, making a high-pitched whistling scream, and fell into the one in green.

  The woman grabbed the girl’s hand again and ran, pushing past the two masked figures. They felt like wood. Both when she punched the tall one and pushed into it, its body was hard and unyielding. Yet, it sounded like she had hurt it.

  The masked ones stayed on their feet when she rushed them, but the woman managed to get past them. Get out to the street, run as fast as she could, and find a new place to hide. They stopped stalking the city when the sun went down. She only needed to hide for a couple of hours at the most, and she would be safe for another night, at least from them.

  Tomorrow, when it was light, she could find a place for the girl, but right now just get away.

  There was a sharp tug on her arm. She glanced back and screamed again.

  The one in green held on to the little girl. Its gloved hand was wrapped around her arm, stopping the woman dead in her tracks.

  “No!” She screamed loudly, hoping it would startle the thing, b
ut her shout had no effect. It held fast to the girl, not even swaying as the woman pulled at her.

  The girl screamed as she was stretched between them, and all four of the brightly clothed things whistled, the noise creating a discordant clash.

  “Please,” the woman said, “don’t.”

  There was only more whistling, then the red one grabbed hold of the girl as well. The other two were close now, spreading out to come around the taller and stouter ones, to get at the woman herself.

  “I’m sorry!” she sobbed, and let go.

  She ran into the street, not looking where she was going. If there were more, then she was done for as well. But luck was on her side, and the street was empty.

  Luck, she thought bitterly as she ran. She looked back, almost against her will. The four figures stared out of the alley at her, their featureless faces tracking her.

  The girl stood with them, watching her with no expression on her face whatsoever. It was almost as if she wore a mask herself, now.

  Chapter 7

  It was a formality, really. Jocasta was selected by the council as the next Head of House Whispering Pines. Between her bloodline and the backing of Lord Childress, it was nearly unanimous. The one dissenting vote was Lord Jerome, which was to be expected.

  At first, she was tempted to remove him from the council, by whatever means necessary, but Childress convinced her otherwise.

  “Let him be,” he suggested. “He has the right to challenge your fitness for the job. Besides, it’s not a bad thing to have someone in place who isn’t afraid to challenge you.”

  “Did Florian deal with all this?”

  Childress shrugged. “At first, yes. When his father died, Florian came to be Head at a very young age. He should have been out chasing girls and having adventures, but instead he was here, learning how to run things. But he was born to it, and before long, he needed to listen less and less to us.”

  Jocasta leaned back in her chair, one of several in Florian’s library. She looked about her, still shocked at the number of volumes that lined the walls. She never knew so many books existed in the entire world. Had the man really read them all?

  She kept her eyes roaming. “How did the council take that?”

  Childress laughed. “As you would expect. Most of us were appalled, of course. Who was this young upstart to ignore us? Didn’t he know that we were older and wiser than he?” The old man shook his head. “The grumblings were over fairly quickly. As I say, Florian was born to the role.”

  Now Jocasta did turn her attention back to him. “If the Head of House can ignore the council, why is it there in the first place?”

  “For the very reason we encountered these last few weeks. The Head of House has been vacant, and there was no immediate successor. Our role is to select a new one, and then provide guidance to that person until they have their feet under them.”

  “And how long is that supposed to last?”

  Childress chuckled. “Until you say so, my dear.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  She met with the council in the same chamber as on the day of her return. While there were nicer rooms, with beautiful views of the forest on upper floors, several of the council members were of an advanced age, and the stairs would be difficult for them.

  Darius stood behind her chair. She promoted him from doorman to personal attendant, and wanted all present to know this, and to recognize him on sight.

  “House Whispering Pines needs a change,” she began.

  The muttering started almost immediately. Even Childress was a bit put out. Jocasta hadn’t discussed any of this with him.

  “Enough,” she said, and held up her hand for quiet.

  When she had their attention again, she continued.

  “For years now, our House’s stock in trade has been information. Information on the other Houses, or on the world outside of the Greenweald. It’s brought us riches, yes, but what else?”

  She looked around the table, but since it was clear that she didn’t really want an answer, silence greeted her.

  “I’ll tell you what else,” she continued. “A reputation. A reputation as sneaks, as snakes in the grass, as untrustworthy. This, while House Towering Oaks is revered above all others save Glittering Birch, and from what I understand, that too is changing. And yet how often did Towering Oaks make use of our information to further its own ends?”

  She paused while she scanned her audience. Every face at the table was turned to her, their attention rapt.

  “This is the end of that. House Whispering Pines is a force of its own. From here on out, our secrets are ours, and ours alone. We hold what we know close and use it to further our ends, not those of another House. Recently, how many of us died to defend Towering Oaks? And have we even been thanked?”

  “Yes, actually,” Lord Jerome drawled. “You weren’t here, so you wouldn’t know. But those two scouts who had so much to do with everything came here and—"

  “Sure,” Jocasta interrupted. “They came here with pretty words. What good is that? Does it bring our dead back to us? Does it enrich our coffers? Of course not. We went to war, fought a horrible foe and got nothing in return.”

  “Then what do you suggest,” Childress asked.

  “I suggest nothing. I am telling you that from here on out House Whispering Pines will have a two-fold purpose. We will continue gathering information, a program run under you, Lord Childress. As it always has been. But in addition, we will strengthen our armed forces, until we rival that of Towering Oaks or Glittering Birch.”

  “And who will be in charge of that?” Jerome asked.

  “I will.”

  The muttering began again, and Jocasta let it run. It didn’t matter what they said, really. Childress had told her himself that the Head of House had the final say.

  “If I might ask?” The speaker was someone Jocasta didn’t know, ancient, but with eyes still bright and sharp. “Why? Why are you taking our House in this direction? We’ve never needed to before. The bond between House Towering Oaks and House Whispering Pines has been strong forever.”

  “Ever since the two Heads played together as children. Great. Yeah, I get it.” Jocasta answered. “But that day is done. I don’t know their Head, and he or she doesn’t know me. It’s a new day, and House Whispering Pines will stand on its own.”

  Jerome laughed. “Don’t know their Head of House? You really have been gone too long.” He chuckled again, lacing his fingers over his considerable belly. “Solomon will be their Head of House. Surely you aren’t so out of touch that you don’t know who he is.”

  She glared at the overweight lord. Perhaps she would reconsider Childress’s advice regarding this one as well.

  “I know perfectly well who Solomon is,” she growled. “And I don’t care. Made up stories and a magic sword don’t make him anything special in my eyes. Besides, even if the stories are true, which I doubt, all the more reason for us to be strong.”

  The shocked expressions of those gathered around the table told her what they all thought of Solomon. Well, whatever strange hold Towering Oaks once held on her House was done. She’d bring them into a new age, kicking and screaming the whole way if she had to.

  She stood and, summoning Darius with a tilt of her head, left the room, the voices rising behind her.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Well?” she asked, when they were alone.

  “It went well, from what I could tell,” Darius said. “They aren’t happy with what you had to say, but they know they don’t really have a choice. Your word is law.”

  “And you? What do you think?”

  “I’m excited. I think a lot of the rank and file will be. There will be opportunities for us that don’t exist right now.”

  Jocasta took a seat and considered her new aide.

  “It’s mercenary then? You like it because of what it can bring to you?”

  Darius shrugged, but had the grace not to look embarrassed. “Of course. And most
others will think that way, too. I am sorry if that’s not what you’re looking for, but I think you’d rather have me be honest.”

  “I would. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with mercenary. Everyone has a job to do, and honor pays nothing.”

  Darius crooked his head. “Even if it refers to an entire army? Like that of a great House?”

  “Even then,” Jocasta grinned.

  Chapter 8

  The next visit wasn’t going to be nearly as pleasant as the last one. Solomon was well aware of this as he made his way through the Greenweald. If he was going to find Celia though, it was his next stop. The water spirit was the only one who knew where she had sent his love.

  He still didn’t understand the reasoning behind the spirit taking Celia. She told him it was because she was jealous, but how would that have endeared Solomon to her? First, he thought Celia dead, killed by the evil spirit. Then, the spirit tells him that she’s alive, but lost somewhere else, somewhere the spirit itself put her. How would the weeks of grief and anguish, the exile he faced, and the knowledge that Celia was alive make him want to be with the spirit? It made no sense to him, and he didn’t think it ever would.

  Sometimes he felt like he lived half his life that way. Not truly understanding what was going on around him, why people did the things they did.

  Solomon had grown up in the Greenweald, yet apart from it at the same time. Even as a boy, he was different from the others. He could run faster, climb higher, throw harder, and keep going far longer than any of his playmates. His parents, from the little he could remember and what Jediah later told him, were ordinary Folk. Tall, thin, and handsome. Strong and quick compared to humans, but no more so than any others.

  So why was he different? It was a question he’d asked himself time after time throughout his life and he never found an answer.

  His playmates came and went, no more than anyone else’s. There was nothing out of the ordinary there. Sometimes children grew apart and then another came to join the group. Even though Solomon was better at almost everything, every game, the other kids never seemed to mind.