The End of Grieving Read online

You stupid animal, have patience."

  The Sting Bird snapped its beak, "Remember why I carry your messages stupid human."

  The servant controlled the impulse to snap the bird across the face.

  "The only reason I do this if for the God of Knowledge who promised me a place in his great plan." His voice filled with pride, "When you are dead, I will live. Since the beginning of time I've flown over this land and until the end I will serve my God."

  The servant waved this away, having heard it ever since the first time he spoke with the Sting Birds. The message had been delivered on time and all else carried no weight in the mind of the servant.

  He opened the message, his eyes growing wide as he read the demands made by the inquirer.

  The most high was dining in the chambers of his position, enjoying a bowl of chicken soup and crusted bread. It had been told to him by the wise men that he should rest himself for he was sick with the fever of the city and was detained within his own palace until the plague was through.

  The great door opened with a bang and a servant entered his chamber at a run, fear plainly displayed across his face.

  "Stop him! He has come to kill me in my weakness!" The Most High pointed, cringing in his chair.

  A guard leapt from his side, tackling the distressed servant before he deliver his message. They hit the ground, pushing the air from the servant's lungs.

  "Sir, he seems to be carrying a message tube."

  The most high eyed the servant with suspicion, "Bring it here." He motioned for the table servant to retrieve the message tube.

  "Here you are my lord." The table servant bowed.

  By this time several other guards had entered the chambers, clamping irons

  The most high read the note. The most high's face drained of color. The most high motioned for a wise man. The wise man moved in from the corner of the chamber. The king asked him what was to be done. The wise man said that war could not be avoided unless the most high continued to provide slaves for the inquirer. The most high asked if the inquirer would be willing to negotiate. The wise man asked for the letter. The letter did not say negotiations were to be allowed. The wise man told the most high. The wise man explained that the inquirer would not negotiate. The most high looked worried. His reign was staged on rocky ground. He could not offend the people. He could not sell anymore.

  The workers were all being sold. There could be no more slaves. The most high was afraid. The most high could not be seen taking any more people. The most high considered his options. The most high looked to the subdued servant. The most high had an idea. The most high looked to his wise man. The most high gestured for the wise man to lean in. The wise man leaned in.

  "What if we were to stage an attack on our own people and blamed thieves for the enslaving?" The most high grinned, pulling the wise man closer.

  "We could save ourselves. We could avoid all-out war and satisfy the inquirer! We can be free!" His voice was giddy with excitement.

  The most high gestured for the table servant who crossed to him without delay.

  "It must needs be that you bring me my seeker."

  "Yes my lord." He ran from the room.

  The wise man spoke, "Most high, I would advise you to be careful. Keep from offending your people sire, or else it might not end well with you."

  The most high did not want to listen. He was afraid, not of the people, but of the inquirer.

  The wise man spoke again, "Perhaps we could inform the people and tell them the truth. With enough support, we can fight the inquirer on our own terms." The most high resisted, choosing again to ignore the wise man.

  "Very well my lord."

  The wise man did not push any longer, returning to the shadows to wait his turn.

  The table servant returned.

  "Your Seeker my lord." He nodded to the door servant.

  And the Seeker entered the room, drifting to the side of the most high. He bowed on one knee.

  "My most high."

  The most high was pleased and placed his hand on the Seeker's shoulder.

  "Seeker...” He said, "Seeker..."

  The Seeker looked to the most high with willingness and expectation.

  "You are my favorite, Seeker... You are my most cherished." He said, stroking the cheek of the Seeker who took the Most High's hand.

  "Seeker..." He said, "Seeker... You must do something for me.

  Seeker... You must be willing to call my men to arms. You must be willing to attack my people, the Inquirer wishes my head on a plate and I must please his demands. Seeker, you are the only one that I trust, you must sell them to the inquirer. Seeker, please, you must do this for me..."

  The Seeker gently kissed the hand of the most high, he was pleased with the request.

  "Until I die, and perhaps even when I do, I shall always be at the right hand of the most high, to be commanded at thy will. Forever and always." The Seeker bowed his head to the floor.

  "Marylin, you just need to articulate." The boy stole the speech from Young Marylin who squealed in protest.

  "I'm trying the best I can!" Young Marylin sat down in a huff, pulling a pillow from the couch and hugging it tightly to her chest.

  The boy lifted the speech to his eye level. "Try again." The boy said, "Except this time do it without so much flair. People want to see strength, not an actress."

  Young Marylin sighed. They'd been working on her speech all day. She threw the pillow back onto the couch and stood up, taking her place at the music stand. She cleared her throat.

  "My fellow Baronians, today we must gather ourselves to fight the menace that is our leader the Inquirer. Today is the day we must choose to allow him his inquiries no more!"

  The boy raised his hand.

  "You there! Citizen in the front!"

  He hesitated, "Never mind, I thought you'd said something wrong."

  Young Marylin shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

  "The inquirer has taken all that we own and even more! Think of what he had done to you and your family think of the times he's..."

  Young Marylin continued, listing off the terrible grievances placed on the people by the inquirer, exaggerating the ridiculousness of the Inquirer's actions.

  The boy listened with rapt attention, looking often from the page to Young Marylin. The Inquirer had begun breaking rules that he, the highest of all, was not allowed to break, killing off his councilors and courts men and replacing them with new councilors and courts men who were vile, twisted people. He was turning the courts and the laws to his own end, changing things to his own designs.

  The man woke early the next morning. His wounds were still fresh from the day before and his body was weak, but the immediate danger has passed through the careful hands of the physician.

  The man looked to his side where Marylin slept silently in the chair next to his bed, she looked so soft to him in the darkness. He sighed within himself, things have changed since they were children, but the dangers in the city have also stayed very much the same.

  The man tried to sit up to assess his wounds, pain flared all throughout his back. The man rested his head back against the pillow. He sighed to himself. The woman he'd married had often tried her hardest to keep the man comfortable in times of pain. But often her fear had led her to fail in her attempts. The woman was a good friend to the man. Though their relationship was one of distance rather than friendship. The woman had caught the eye of the man in the courts where the man had often gone to attend the hearings of the accused and the grieving. The man had seen her and had desired her as his own. He had known then that their relationship was not one of friendship, need, or excitement. Rather he had chosen her because she was an object of love. He had known she would fail him in the end, but his hope was to provide his children with a mother who would protect her children. As he had known then, it had come to be. The woman had failed the man often in his times of trial but, as he had desired, she
shined in the light of the protection and care of his children. Often going to great lengths to keep them well suited. Both he and the woman had been born into houses of great wealth and both had expected to marry into families with similar financial influence and control in the city.

  The man looked back on the past with regret. There had often been times when he regretted his choice in the woman but he prized himself on being an honorable man and so he stayed, intent on being the father his family needed.

  The man closed his eyes. The man did not want to think about the past any longer. The man needed to rest. The man relaxed. The man cleared his mind. The man cleared his thoughts. The man let himself sink back into the pillow behind his head. The man let himself sink back into the bed. The man fell asleep without as much as a trace of past regret.

  The morning was cold and dark. You'd been called from the barracks early in the morning to speak with the Seeker. You were never told why you were chosen specifically for this task. But you carry a reputation of carnage, ill will towards your enemies and success in times of battle. You laboriously pull yourself from the hard wooden bunk that makes your bed and walk to washing basin in your room. You look old and tired as you face your reflection in the shard of steel sitting next to the basin. Of course your appearance could simply be a trick of the light, or rather, the lack thereof. You splash water on your face to bring vigor to your thoughts. The messenger stands at your doorway, resolute. You salute her