HEIRS OF TIME (CASTE BOOK 2) SAMPLE CHAPTERS

Chapter 15

Carmichael’s Journal, No. 4, 1714

“Four years had passed since the day I discovered the castle. I had been sent away immediately and it was the first time I had returned. After realizing that my gift of attraction was of a power unknown until then, my father had sent me to Toulouse, to Christophe’s home. The latter had received the heavy responsibility of educating me, like a man of the world, and we can say he had not been idle. With a wild temperament, I took a long time to let myself be coaxed. I had only caught a glimpse of my father for a few minutes, and he immediately pushed me away from him. I felt no affliction and didn’t consider he was worthy of the slightest effort. He has never been part of my life. What pushed me to relent was the feeling I had experienced in front of all these caste women. No woman had ever given me attention, and they were all ready to pounce on me. Christophe achieved his ends by using my interest in the fairer s*x.

“My dear Carmichael, if you want to live up to the expectations of these young ladies, you’ll have to educate yourself. What are you going to tell them when they talk to you? What conversations will you have with them?”

“They didn’t seem to be looking for my conversation.”

“That’s possible, but once they have satisfied the desire you cause in them, you may exchange a few words, right?”

“I don’t see why.”

“Do you have any immediate plans that can’t wait? Think about it, what would it cost you to spend the next few years enriching yourself with an education that can only serve you?”

I kept silent. Christophe sighed. He took off his jacket as we sat down to eat. His two servants presented the first course. Christophe nodded before one of them poured the contents onto his plate. Then I was served and still surprised by so much attention.

Christophe seemed to enjoy his dish and smiled at me when I tasted the succulent roasted meat in a sauce.

“Cooking is also one of the pleasures of life, Carmichael, but holding cutlery is an exercise you must learn.”

It was my turn to sigh. When he finished his dish, Christophe took his napkin and patted his lips. Then he got up and sat down on the chair to my right. He took a deep breath and looked at me seriously.

“Your father is the most powerful man in our community. If you agree to receive a noble education, benefit from this learning, and leave this poor character aside, he’ll entrust you with some important tasks. It could even be that he’ll entrust you with a stronghold and, thus, my dear, all caste women, whoever they are, will be at your feet. Knowledge is power. Presence is power. With a place of choice in the caste hierarchy, you can become the king of the world, son!

I put down my fork and finished swallowing my bite. Leaning back in my chair, I watched him. He didn’t change his expression, and he even seemed to harbour ulterior motives that I couldn’t guess.

“How did you know where I was?” I asked the question that had burned my lips since our meeting. “And why did you come on that day in particular? My father abandoned me when I hadn’t yet seen the light of day, and now you appear like a knight on his steed to save me.

“Ah, finally, questions! Well, it took you a long time to ask me!”

“I learned it’s better to think before speaking in front of a white man.”

“To hell with that! Haven’t you noticed that skin colour doesn’t matter among us castes?”

It’s true that, of the fifteen or so caste women I met in the Pomona room, many had beautifully coloured skin, sometimes with shades that I had never seen before.

“I agree,” I said after a silence, “you’re not like the rest of the world.”

“We, Carmichael,” corrected my host. “However, I have a suggestion. Let’s take care of your hair first. Then everything will be easier, you’ll see.”

“I don’t want a wig!”

Christophe burst out laughing. He ran his fingers through my shaggy hair, looked apologetic, and I couldn’t suppress shame as he struggled to pull his hand from my tangles. I can’t remember the last time I brushed it.

“You have amazing hair,” he told me. “You’ll be able to have extraordinary hairstyles.”

I realized later that Christophe was passionate about hair art. He had a lot of wigs, some of which bordered on the ridiculous. But his interest in hair and his remarks about it whenever he met someone made me howl with laughter.

“God damn it, what a horrible bun!” he said one day, speaking of the hairstyle of a caste who had just been introduced to me. “Does she want a colony of birds to take up residence in her hair?!”

During the four years that followed, I integrated everything from the caste community and its habits and customs. I also learned four languages, mathematics, introduced myself to fashion, the dances of the time, decorum, the art of conversation and, of course, the maintenance of my hair. I was ready to return to Mortain in the company of Christophe and his wife, Nathalie. This time, I had every intention of staying there.

“But where did the little slave from Saint-Domingue go?!” exclaimed my father, discovering the assurance I gave off at that moment.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” I replied, nodding in feigned respect.

He laughed. Deep down inside, it was torture not to spit on this man for all the bad things I thought of him. However, I was strangely pleased that he realized my efforts. I learned later that this need for paternal recognition would do me a disservice for a long time. However, Christophe had taught me that by flattering egos and telling others what they wanted to hear, we reached our goals more quickly. And I had ambition. So I wasn’t going to shy away from lying and simpering if it served my purpose.

“My dear, you are absolutely lovely,” Magnus said to Nathalie, who received the compliment with a delicate nod.

Nathalie was the ideal woman for Christophe. Her refinement was known to the whole community, and it was a pride that Christophe liked to evoke.

“My friend, it’s good to see you,” Magnus told him.

“It makes me happy too.”

Magnus turned to me and looked me up and down. He finally gave me a smile that surprised me.

“You look great.”

I nodded again, kindly.

“Thank you.”

Magnus watched me for a moment longer and then motioned me to sit down, ordering tea from his butler. The living room where we sat was bathed in light, thanks to a well-exposed window. The light blue tones and the neat decoration made this room very pleasant. I thought that I would have no trouble feeling at home here.

“Here’s my offer,” Magnus said bluntly, “I want to entrust you with the keys to Mortain.”

“Really?” I replied with a wry smile when, in reality,

I was writhing in excitement. “Would you agree to entrust the management of your domain to a stranger? Even if I were your son? Besides, what proof is there that you conceived me?”

“I can’t read you,” he said with a strange grin. “I don’t know what you’re thinking or feeling. That makes you the third person in this world to be sealed to me. So I knew it as soon as you arrived at the castle. Not before.”

“Then why did you save me from the plantation if you weren’t aware of my uniqueness beforehand?”

“Because I have all my children watched. If any manifest powers, they are welcome in the castle.”

“So, I’m here only because I have powers if I understand correctly?”

“And because you’re my son.”

“But if I had no power, would I be among you?”

“If you were human, what’s the point?”

“I lived in slavery.”

“And I live forever.”

“Sorry?”

“Magnus doesn’t age,” Christophe told me, as if he weren’t breaking shocking news. He has a rare combination of powers, as we know, and no one has ever understood why. He is Master Hand of the castes because he’s the third oldest and on him rests the persistence of our kind.”

“Our kind?”

“We’re not human,” Magnus said.

Christopher nodded. Natalie put a hand on my shoulder. She knew what it felt like to feel her touch me. I mastered my magnetism better in her presence, but I felt every emotion from her. She was beautiful, and I found her elegance fascinating. It is for all these reasons that Christophe had waited more than two years before presenting her to me. He had also decided to hire only human beings to carry out the domestic tasks of the household so that I wouldn’t spend my time being intimate with them. I could easily understand Christophe’s caution, judging by the heat that crept into my neck from the touch of his wife’s hand.

“If you agree to it,” she said, “and you resolve to become lord of this domain, not only will you have the power to manage an entire territory, but you’ll also be master of this castle. You’ll have all the means necessary to carry out your mission, but you’ll also have to watch over our community and be useful to it.”

“I’ve never lived with the castes”, I reminded my father, “except in the company of Christophe and Nathalie. And you’re asking me, right now, to become the head of a community? I confess that I expected anything except this news.”

“You’re going to undergo a period of observation,” Magnus said. “My brother will stay here as long as he sees fit until you prove yourself up to the task.”

I got up. I thought I had to negotiate to stay living in the castle, and now I was offered to become its lord. It was a surreal moment. My past came flooding back, and my wounded soul was suddenly outrageously flattered. No one had ever offered me anything before Christophe came into my life. But I had learned that everything had a cost, so I wanted to know the price of this unexpected gift.

“Now, can you tell me what the obligations of this proposal will be?”

Magnus exchanged a look with Christophe. Nathalie went to stand alongside her husband.

“You’ll have to fight if necessary. You will have to be ready for anything because many want to gain power and hope to see me gone. I need to manage the community in another way now, and I want to put the most powerful people at my service. And, if Christophe is correct, you’re one of the most powerful. Besides, Egeria saw you in one of her visions. You’ll win wars for me.”

“I’ve heard of Egeria and her powers, but I must confess that I’ve never managed even a house. So managing a domain, an entire territory… You do me a great honour.”

“Father.”

“Sorry?”

“You do me a great honour, Father,” Magnus said with a smile. “You’re my son, so I want you to be treated as such.”

I didn’t know what to make of that last sentence and his attitude, but that moment sent a strange jolt through my chest. My orphan heart rejoiced to hear those words. Yet I barely knew this man, and I doubted that war was the only problem I’d have to face. Was I also ready to fight for the caste cause while still a stranger to their world?

“I accept.”

The words were out of my mouth before I had time to think further. It wasn’t an offer that we refused. On the contrary, it was everything I expected, despite my young age and lack of experience in the face of a task of this magnitude. Who could have refused such a gift?

Someone knocked at the door. A man of innate poise and ironclad self-assurance introduced himself and came to shake my hand warmly.

A young woman stood behind him like an assistant. She was blushing, and I felt a pang of excitement at the sight of her. I immediately looked away, although I would still feel the effects of this eye encounter for a long time.

“My nephew!” said the man before turning to the young woman.

Noting her apparent state, he turned around and left in a great burst of laughter.

“Magnus, you leave a wolf in the sheepfold.”

“I’m a lamb, sir,” I said, bowing my head.

“I seriously doubt it,” he said, laughing even more.

“As long as he fulfils his mission as he should,” my father said to his brother, “let him enjoy what he has been deprived of all his life.”

My uncle, Blake Burton Race, nodded and looked at me enigmatically.

“Good,” Magnus said, putting his hands on my shoulders, “so it’s time to throw a ball!”

I closed the last page of diary no. 4. My eyes were tired from reading. I spent the day reading, or was it the night? It had only been a few days since I had been locked up here, and the loneliness was becoming unbearable, not to mention the notion of time, which I desperately missed. The horrible white light never went out, and my body began to feel the effects of the isolation. Connor had visited twice. He tried to get my attention and start the conversation by asking me if I needed anything, but I preferred to ignore him. When he left, he promised to come back, and then I plunged into solitude, almost hoping he would.

Only the memories of Carmichael filled the time, as well as the presence of the prisoner. Like him, I decided to do a few exercise sessions, hoping to keep in shape, because I still cherished the hope of escaping.

After running on the spot in my cell, doing a session of abs and stretching, I went near the basin and undressed. I took the washcloth and ran hot water over it. The thrill I felt in contact with water gave me goosebumps. Feeling my cellmate’s gaze on me, I quickly turned my head but saw only his back. Had he turned around just now?

I continued my bathing and put on clean pyjamas. I decided to put the dirty pair on my meal tray. I understood that, in this way, I could hope to receive a clean set when I woke up the next day.

I went to sit on the bed. The man opposite did the same. We stared at each other, and the silence suddenly felt less heavy. I lay down on the bed with my head turned in his direction. He imitated me, and until sleep carried me away, our eyes remained riveted on each other.