Chapter 6 - part the first

Amos met Veon in the richly appointed anteroom; he was gazing intently at a map of Caza from a previous era. It had the same shape, still looked like a house, but its inner layout was quite different. There were no canals.

The big man turned to face his sister, whose ire had either abated or been pretended; she stood before him now perfectly composed, and entirely in control of them both. It had been this way for years, and they were most comfortable in these roles.

“You really are a fool,” she said, shaking her head. “What do you hope to gain from such a stupid move, Veon?”

Veon smiled sheepishly. He shrugged. “I don't like him. You can do better.”

“I don't want to do better, Veon; and that does not give you license to do your worst.”

“You don't know that he didn't set those explosives. He's clever enough to cover it all up.”

“I know that he would never do such a thing, Veon,” Amos argued. “Sixty-five people died when the Salt Bridge came down, and many more were injured. Leni would never enact such a crime.”

“You would be surprised what we men are capable of,” Veon said with a touch of shame. “He may put on a sweet face when you're around, but there are dark sides to everyone; and Leni has more faces to wear than most.”

“But none of them are cruel; none are heartless. He may hide his intentions with tricks and fool your eye with his quick hands; but he cannot hide his heart – not from me, at any rate.”

“That is where you err, my sister-”

“No. I know it. I know him – the parts that count, anyway.”

Veon looked away, looked back at the map. “I wish that things were simple once more,” he muttered. “I'm sick of all this intrigue. Do you ever wish that we could just go back to the Tusk and forget about this rotten place?”

“No.”

“I do. More and more, that is what I think about. Living on the Cape once more, diving off Halo Rock, catching fish fresh from the sea.”

“That is a good life, Veon, but it is not my future. I've left all of that in the past; and you should know that I am prepared to leave you there, too.”

Veon turned to his sister, with eyes glistening, mustache quivering. For all of his girth and size, for all of his power and muscle, he was really just a lost little boy. He'd always been, ever since he'd hoofed up the Hike Wall and run off to the Silent Hall. That was essentially his problem: he felt he'd been removed from his place, robbed of his birthright.

Amos knew however that they had been placed rather on the very path that would lead them to their destiny. She had been shown that the inverse was true from what Veon feared, and the one regret she had carried all these years was that she had never been able to share her faith with Veon. It was as though she were holding a torch, brightly burning, and all she wanted was to touch it to his, which had been snuffed out; but no matter how many times she tried, she found the light could not be passed, for he had dampened his through and through with fears, and doubt, and inconsolable grief.

“Go back to the Cape, if that is what you wish, Veon. Don't stay here for me, because I am not yours. I am his.”

Veon could not make any answer. He was fighting to keep in the tears; poor, Veon, always fighting.

“Say it for me, Veon. Say that I am not yours.”

Veon managed barely to break his silence and mutter the words:

“You are not mine.”

“I am his.”

“You are...”

“I am his.”

Veon could not complete it, however. He looked away from Amos, back to the map he'd been engrossed in earlier. Folio House was still there, he noted; but the avenue upon which it squatted was here named Laio.

Well, I suppose it is time to let go of the past, Veon thought to himself; and when he turned yet again, the tears finally set free, he found that he was alone.

Amos, as though plucked away from him, had vanished.

She returned directly to the offices of the Commander, composing in her head the apology which she hoped would make amends.

What she found within however took her quite by surprise. Colm and Leni were no longer seated at the desk, but were arm in arm over on the divan by the unlit hearth. The lanky aide sat with them, on a tall, straight-backed chair, most ill-at-ease. He held a filled brandy snifter, untouched, while the other two men had glasses that were already empty.

Amos made a little smirk seeing that. It was one of Leni's best tricks of the day. She made her way over to the group, erasing with a single mental shiver the pardon she had been prepared to plea. She smiled at her beloved, and smiled too at the Commander. She saw that Leni was drinking his brandy out of the forlorn, headless mermaid.

“I seem to have missed a merry meeting of the minds,” the svelte woman noted as she gracefully sat upon the edge of the chair opposite the plainly terrified assistant. The material was more slippery than she'd anticipated, however, and she promptly fell off the chair, landing with a thump directly on her rump.

Leni erupted into laughter along with the Commander, who tried to help her up, but was paralyzed by unprecedented mirth. The assistant rose from his chair, and wondered what to do next, considering that a long, low table blocked him entirely from coming to her aid.

Amos waved him off. “It's all right. I've been subjected to far worse than this, and the only thing that is injured is my dignity.”

“A drink?” Colm asked her, then without waiting for an answer, he waved for the lad to tend to her. “Pour her a stiff one. She knows how to drink, this one!”

Again, the boy rose from his seat; again, Amos bade him retake it.

“I am done with drinking for the day,” she said. “I am content to subsume now on the eternal love I have for my endearing husband.”

“Ah – watch out!” Colm warned Leni, nudging his with his elbow as if they were old buddies. “My wife only ever compliments me when she's angry with me!”

“Really?” Leni turned to his new favourite Archer. “What does she say to you when she's actually pleased?”

“Not a word – because at such times, her mouth is always full!”

He gave Leni another playful shove and winked at him.

That was when Amos noticed his eye had been healed. Strange, how she hadn't noticed right away, perhaps; but then she realized that she had been expecting it. Living with Leni had made her expect such daily miracles, and the things that once baffled and thrilled her were now in fact commonplace.

Colm's lewd joke didn't make her blush, but his aide was red in the face enough for them all. He was a pious lad, and still a virgin – although he would never admit as much.

“What is your name?” Amos asked him suddenly, and he showed a real dread at being pulled into this mess even further. He surely would have extricated himself earlier with some excuse or other, if the Commander had not given him a direct order to stay and drink – an acute conundrum in protocol that had never before been executed.

“Obuc, my Lady,” said the boy; then, he added, “But my friends all call me Buck.”

“Is that because you're nervous?” Amos said with a smile. “If I were to sit on you, would you throw me like a yearling stallion that has never been ridden?”

Colm slapped his knee in delight. Leni beamed at him.

The boy replied quickly to dispel the notion:

“It is because my father is hard of hearing. He is named Obud, and when I was a boy he could never tell whom of the two of us was being addressed. So my aunt started calling me Buck, and he Budd.”

“Such a simple, graceful solution. Of course it was a woman who hit upon it.” Amos said, impressed not only with the answer, but the boy's ability to convey it and evade embarrassment of his own. He did not know, of course, that Amos was determined to see him blush once more. “I am glad to hear my guess was wrong, Buck, as I'd hate to have to sit on you to break you. As you have seen, I can't even get eight seconds on a chair that is standing perfectly still.”

Buck let out an unexpected laugh; and it seemed a contagious laugh, for Colm began once again to hoot and holler, slapping his knee, and digging his elbow into Leni's ribs. Leni laughed along with them, and Amos giggled girlishly – although for her, it was all a show. She was no longer in the mood for any of this.

How easy it is to fool men, she thought. She would play along as long as it was needed, of course; but she was grateful that men seemed completely inept when it came to discerning when a woman was faking it.

“Shall I continue my tale?” she asked, but this time she was looking at Buck for permission, as his commanding officer had clearly been commandeered by spirits – either in his glass, or in his mind.

“Yes,” Buck said with an eager nod, although he had missed out on all the earlier chapters. “Do go on.”

Amos smiled at him, and took up once more the tale of how she came to find herself on her knees at the doors of the Illuminati Odeum, begging to be let in.