I took a break from writing. My manuscript went off for a writing assessment and I stepped away from writing for a few weeks. Doesn’t really explain why I didn’t post the next chapter last weekend though. How about—I took a break from electronics as well? Last Sunday, I spent the entire day snuggled on the sofa with my bulldogs and a book. Not an electronic device in sight. It was pure bliss.
I’m back this week with Chapter 5. The last chapter ended with Bex discovering her hero dying in an alley and then sneaking into his hotel room to retrieve his most prize possession. If you’re interested in finding out what happens next, then read on…
Chapter 5
We sat on the raised rows of carved benches formed by rough hands of centuries old sand grinders. The rings encircled an elevated platform in the center of the room. There the council members and guild master’s would be arriving soon. The murmur of the community shuffling into the seats, cramming every corner and doorway, scratched at my ears. Some came for the spectacle. Some came to share their grief while others came to rejoice in his passing. He was loved and hated equally. Death may be common in our harsh lands, but murder was rare. Regardless of what they thought of him, the opportunity to gather the latest gossip was too great. They came, chattered, and collected their own stories about the demise of the great Xan Janal.
The curved white walls of the council chamber were decorated with the banners of the various guilds. My eyes stuck on the Grinders banner with its grey background, brown mortar and pestle and sand pouring from a black vessel above. It was the least colorful. The most boring emblem of the lot. Not a single sand grinder’s hands had touched a mortar and pestle for a hundred years, yet they clung to their history.
My eyes drifted to the other, more colorful banners. There was the Blasters with their rusty red background and mustard yellow explosion. It depicted action, power, and danger. The Blowers banner, with its soft green background and brilliant colors blended into a vessel that looked like it was filled with hopes and dreams. The Mixers were even more artistic and creative in their design. Covered in odd symbols, all curves and angles, circling what Muut called an atom. Each symbol was a vivid color set against a yellow backing. It was energetic, creative, and mystical with each symbol sparkling as a gentle breeze lifted it away from the wall.
In stark contrast to the four main guilds was the black pennant of the Enforcers. The upholders of the rules of society. Their banner was simple. It was a black background decorated with a white shield crossed by a yellow lightning bolt. It portrayed power and control as well as consequences. I wondered what they might think about my midnight adventure after finding Xan’s body. Would I be seen as complicit in his death or a hero in fulfilling his dying wishes? Most likely, they are too busy polishing their batons to investigate the death of a simple storyteller. If they found out she was the one who broke in and stole his things, would they lock her away? The book becoming a piece of evidence that would gather dust in a dark room, never to be read again. Xan’s legacy would be lost to the due process of the Enforcers. A fate worse than his death.
My eyes shifted to the pale scar that hung like a ghost next to the Enforcer’s banner. As a bleak reminder of the daily challenges we face, where once hung the soft blue banner of the Finders Guild, now only a faded grey patch marked its existence. The only guild that interested me no longer existed. The finders would travel the land searching for the aqua reservoirs, then alert the councils of each settlement. The councils would then divide up the collection work and allocate the water allotments. There hadn’t been a new reservoir found in nearly two centuries. And so, the Finders Guild slowly disappeared. It dried up in the same way the reserves had. No one wanted to join a guild that was pointless. Now we relied on the Mixers for their ingenuity in pulling what little moisture they could from the very air around us.
Finally, the Traders Guild pennant hung as a declaration that without commerce the rest of the guilds were irrelevant. The solid purple background completed the rainbow of colours. The lack of any adornments was an acknowledgement that all goods were equal in the eyes of traders. There were no preferences or favorites. All commerce was good commerce. I guess that’s how the Traders control the flow of money in the same way the ancient dams controlled the flow of water from the reservoirs.
I felt a nudge in my ribs and looked at Muut. He nodded to the front of the room where the heads of each guild now sat on one side of a curved table facing the elected council members on the other. Hadrial Abuzi sat in the middle of the curve between the two groups. Her back straight and her eyes closed as she waited for the chamber to settle. She raised both her hands up in front of her and I could hear a low hum coming from deep within her throat. Even though we were seated to the left middle of the crowd, it sounded like she was right in front of us. Such was the cleverness of the builders who knew how to capture and project the acoustics in the room.
As her humming grew louder, the gathered crowd quieted and settled into their seats. She opened her eyes, continuing to hum and scanned the room. Her gaze swept each member of the community. Her eyes landed on me, and I felt a jolt deep within my belly as her stare pierced my very soul. It felt like she held me in her gaze for hours and when she moved on, I gasped and slumped back in my seat.
“Are you ok?” Sarja leaned over to inquire quietly in my ear. “What was that about?”
“I…I…I’m just still so upset about finding Xan Janal,” I stuttered, not sure how to explain what I had felt under the Advisors penetrating inspection.
“Hopefully we’ll get some answers today,” she responded. “It’s been three days and not a word. They haven’t even called us in for questioning. It all seems very odd.”
“Well, there hasn’t been an incident like this in over a century,” interjected Muut. “I’m sure they’re trying to figure out what the protocol is in handling it.”
“Protocol?” My eyebrow reflected my scorn. “You would think of protocol when someone is murdered.”
“Well, there are formalities that need to be followed,” he tried to explain.
“I heard someone also broke into his room that night,” Nyraj offered from behind us. “They took all his belongings.”
“It all seems tragic and sad,” Sarja said quietly. “To do that to a harmless old man like Xan Janal who only wanted to entertain people with his stories. It makes me want to spit.”
Nyraj placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and we all turned our attention back to the community leaders. Hadrial Abuzi now stood with her hands hanging loosely at her side, palms facing out toward the crowd.
“People of Mchenyu,” she called out, her voice easily reaching even the farthest depths of the crowd. “We gather here today for two reasons. The first to pay tribute to a great man who lived his life honestly and without remorse. Three suns past, we tragically lost the Great Xan Janal to a tragic incident. And that brings me to the second reason we are here.”
She paused and looked around the faces all staring back at her, waiting for her to continue.
“Mchenyu has not had such a grizzly incident as this since the Ametsu disputes over the last known reservoir. We are a civilized society and cherish each one of our people within our communities. Regardless of whether you belong to a Guild, sit on a council, are a trader or a storyteller, a life is a life and is priceless. We have spent the past three suns evaluating the death of Xan Janal and can find no evidence that the person who did this is still within our community. Nor do we know why someone would have committed such a tragic act.”
I felt a heat growing in my chest and my blood rushing into my face. The rage and anguish were unbearable. I couldn’t contain myself any longer. Jumping to my feet, I shouted, “If you had bothered to ask those who found Xan Janal, maybe you would have more information.”
Silence.
Strong hands on my shoulder forced me back into my seat.
Abuzi’s, and every pair of eyes in the room, were now on me. Staring. Glaring at my disrespect. The Advisor took a deep inhale and raised her hands to the crowd once again, signaling for calm.
“I understand your grief child,” she began.
I tried to shrug off Nyraj’s steadfast grip on my shoulders so I could stand once again. But he wasn’t budging.
“We are all in shock at the loss of such a great and highly respected member of our community. I assure you that we are doing everything possible to find out what happened to him and why.”
She turned her attention back to the council members and guild masters, “As part of our investigation, we have determined that there is a lack of understanding and respect for members such as Xan Janal. We recognize that there are many talents that do not fit neatly into one of the main guilds and therefore have decided to establish a new Guild of Arts. This guild will allow members who wish to pursue more creative activities to be legitimized within the communities. As such we will be petitioning for a Guild Master to lead this new group and any members interested in following a path of art and creativity may apply to the guild.”
She turned to the wall where the pale scar filled the blank space between the Enforcer’s and Trader’s banners. With the clap of her hands, she signaled a release of the new banner. A stark white pennant unfurled and fluttered against the wall displaying a magnificent array of images. There were colorful musical notes floating amongst paintbrushes that trailed rainbows, sculpting tools, and writing instruments. And in the center of the banner was an image of a red book with a gold sunburst on its cover.
As the crowded room erupted in cheers and applause, I stared at the banner, at the red book that looked a lot like Xan Janal’s secret manuscript. They knew about it. Or at least someone did. They might have been paying homage to the bard’s storybook, but his public one was gold, not red. Whoever commissioned this banner was aware of the other book. The one that now lay hidden beneath my bed. When I finally peeled my eyes away from the banner and looked back at the council table, I found the Advisor, Abuzi, staring at me once again. The red in my face and the heat in my belly flushed away leaving a cold feeling in the pit of my stomach.