Return of the Maca

Chapter 3: The Stumble

Chapter 3: The StumbleIs returned the next afternoon when he finished trading some of yesterday's scavenged finds. His bag was partially filled with food. He was confident they would survive until Signing Day. His Guardian should send another packet then. He had sent an urgent plea for two packets and hoped that Ishmalisa would heed him. It was fortunate that the seasons were warming, and he no longer risked freezing outside. He knew he was strong enough to work, but how he longed for his fishing vessel.

Wee Da met him at the top of the stairs with a bellow and ran straight at him intent on continuing the wrestling match of the morning. Is swung him upward and grinned at Di.

“Does he nay tire?”

Di smiled and stopped her pacing. “Of course, he does nay. What did ye find out?” She needed air. She wanted exercise. Confinement was more wearying than work or working out.

“They are nay looking for ye. I was correct. They dinna care what ye said as long as ye nay say it again.”

“How can ye be sure?”

“One of the Sisterhood's low ranking patrollers was kind enough to pull me aside and suggest that ye nay drink so heavily of the brew that loosens your head and your tongue. They nay wish to hear such words from ye again.”

Di heaved a sigh. “I dinna wish to speak such words, but when the vision comes it tis hard to ignore.” She made a slight face and shrugged her shoulders.

“Signing time tis soon. I'll choose Ayran. Nay there care what I say, and till then, we will enjoy our time together.” A smile lifted her cheeks.

The days grew warmer, and the Houses began to assemble in Betron for the monthly meeting of the Council, and the day when Abs signed up for any agricultural or menial work offered by each House. The discussion of wages wagged every tongue. To show their good will, the Houses sent extra provisions for Martin to distribute. Ishmalisa had sent the extra packets, and Is felt his strength returning. He and Di strolled among the booths decorated with each House's colors and looked at the posted work. Abs refused all schooling, but so many of the Tris had voluntarily joined the Abs to procure food that someone was always available to read when the crowd gathered around each screen displaying the work list. The former Tris and life-long Abs pretended to ignore those condemned to servitude from the Houses, but found it difficult not to give way or bow.

The Abs ignored Is as he was too apt to incur Martin's wrath; a situation that could dramatically decrease their food allotments. Di pushed the people away from the posted work assignments and smiled at him.

“Read aloud, Is, so that all may hear.”

As she turned, she saw the breadth of Llewellyn, Maca of Don, and his face was stern. Behind him stood his laddie, the blind-eyed one, his grey eyes like slate glaring at a hostile world, and in his hands was a Justine sprayer. She saw Llewellyn point at her and heard him roar, “Speak.”

Unable to disobey, she turned to the crowd and raised her arms. “People of Thalia listen to me. I am the Kenning Woman appointed by Gar. Llewellyn, Maca of Don, is returning with his blind-eyed laddie to free Thalia and complete the revenge of LouElla.” Her arms dropped down and she swayed back and forth not hearing the gasps and the laughter rippling through the crowd. There had been no prolonged vision, but the words had flown from her mouth.

Is scooped up Wee Da and put his free arm around Di, pulling her back, away from the crowd, guiding her toward the back streets. It was time to hide again. Their progress was interrupted by the Lad of Don, his dark, blue hat sat jauntily on his head hiding the graying hair, and he smelled of the brew he had been drinking. He stood well over six feet, had the straight even features of Don, and he still possessed the body of a Thalian warrior. His withered right arm was held against his side, but he raised his left hand to halt them.

“If ye run in the streets with your wee one and your companion, they will find ye.”

Is trusted this man of Don, one of the last of the surviving warriors from the Justine War. As the last of the House of Don, Lamar should have been Guardian of Don. His laddie or lassie would have become the next Maca, but the Justines had taken his seed when they withered his arm. Now he passed his time talking with old friends or drinking the Rurhran brew offerings from the Houses. Is had not spoken with him since being condemned to the life of an Ab.

“Lamar, can ye think of where we should go? There will be Army and Betron Enforcers looking to drag her before the Council.”

“Ye should nay go back where ye were lodged.” He used his left arm to point over towards the unused streets. “They ken where ye were hid. I heard that from my Counselor.

“Ye,” and he pointed at Is, “should take the wee laddie to the Handmaiden. She will care for him, and then ye may stay at the Ab compound or wander the streets. If they ask about this one, ye can truthfully say she ran off.

“And ye,” he turned and smiled at Di, “will come with me. We will saunter back towards the port and find a friend of mine.”

“Nay!” Di snapped at him, her brown eyes determined.

“I am still a bit of a strategist.” Lamar favored them with a smile and ran his left hand down his chest. “They will nay look for ye so close to the official gathering.”

“Mayhap he tis right, Di. If the Sisterhood kens where we lodge, there tis nay safety there. They will nay look for ye in House.”

“Aye,” Lamar broke in. “They will think ye are cowering like a Kreppie in some back alley.” He smiled inwardly with satisfaction as Di snapped her head up, kissed Da, and handed him to Is.

“How long am I to hide?”

“Nay, long. My friend will arrange a way to transport ye elsewhere and get the message back to the Handmaiden for your wee one.”

Di took a deep breath. “Let's go.”

Lamar used his left hand to grasp her arm and they walked back towards the port, Di walking nearest the buildings.

Di was as tall as Lamar and they matched each other's step as they made their way to what was left of the shops in Bretta. Lamar propelled her into a brew hall reserved for House members and their highest ranking retainers. The few patrons gave a guarded look and ignored them, although later the gossip would spread that Lamar was bedding outside of his marriage vows for they had seen him guide an Ab woman into the hallway towards the lift.

Inside the lift Di closed her eyes and expelled a huge gust of air. She had not dared to breathe while walking across the floor with so many eyes flicking toward her and then snapping back to their companions as though she did not exist. In truth, House members never really looked at Abs anyway. The thought stirred something in her being. Why was this prominent House member helping her? Was it because she had predicted that Don would be restored and he was grateful? The door slid open for them.

“The lift tis safer than the stairs. We are going to the second room to your right.” Lamar leaned his head in that direction as they stepped from the lift. “Hurry now.”

Di matched his steps, but once again her mind nagged at her. How did he so conveniently have this room waiting? Had there truly been time enough? The door opened at his touch and he stepped in, nodding his head in approval.

“Aye, Rollie was right. This tis a good place. The windows are lightly tinted. Ye can see the street below, but others canna see ye. I suggest ye nay look too oft or someone might catch your shadow and realize ye are hiding here.”

Di stepped into the room. “Do ye mean Rollie, Counselor of Rurhran?”

Lamar looked at her. “Who else would I mean? I shall be back in less than an hour with the arrangements.”

He smiled at her and ran his left hand up over the muscles on her arm. “Ye have a magnificent warrior's body.” He bowed his head and stepped outside and turned as he put his palm on the keypad. His eyes softened as he looked at her.

“Tis almost a pity.” And the door slid shut.

Di looked around the room. She realized this was a trap, and she needed a way out. The furniture was soft and round, ready to accommodate those who wished to relax or engage in a bedding away from prying eyes. She pushed some of the heavy, ornate golden chairs against the door. Rurhran's color was gold; at least Lamar had not lied about that, but why, why? Did Lamar nay wish Don to be restored? She finally settled on the round solid, molded table as the only weapon available.

She turned the table over and leaned all her weight down on the leg: it held, the rim of the table coming up from the floor. She had less than an hour. How long would it take to break the window reinforced with protective metals from Ayran? Di lifted the table and aimed one of the legs directly at the center of the window, then rammed it into the metal infused glass. Nothing. Again and again she rammed the leg against the window, sweat started to gather in beads on her forehead and body, and time lost its meaning. Suddenly there was a crinkling noise, overridden by a burning smell. She whirled to face the door and realized the Sisters must have been given permission to up the charge in their stunners, or else it was Kreppies that were after her. Fear put strength into the next ramming and the window started to c***k into fine glazed pieces.

Blue flame licked at the side of the table and she flung the table back towards them. Di jumped up and through the window, using her left shoulder to break through the last of the glass. Too late she remembered she was on the second floor and there was nay time to tuck and roll to correct her landing.