The Gathandrian Trilogy 03 - The Executioners Cane

rescuing what seed they could. It would have to be planted elsewhere, as this field would need another season to recover its fertility. If Jemelda wished to starve him out of her lands, this was certainly the best way to go about her task; he never wished to be the death of any other man, woman or child again, not if he could help it.
    Finally, carrying what they could salvage, Simon, Ralph and the people turned back to the village. The Lost One noted on the journey none walked close to him, but only the cane and the bird kept him company.
    Halfway there he saw the old man, his father. Strange how he had been expecting this and yet was still so unprepared for it. He dropped the half-burnt earth he was holding and watched the remains of the precious seeds scatter across the soil. Somebody amongst the villagers cursed at his stupidity and he could not blame them. The mind-cane flared up but Simon quelled it with a glance. He was pleased he could still do so. He hurried to pick up the seeds, retrieving them as best he could.
    A darker shadow next to him made him look up. Ralph bent down and scooped up a handful of earth upon which lay some small corn seeds. The green glow in his other hand drew Simon’s gaze.
    “Yes,” said the Lammas Lord. “Sometimes the emeralds have other uses too. They bring together that which might have been lost.”
    As both men straightened up, Ralph glanced in the direction of the old man and nodded.
    “You will have to talk to him,” he said, quietly. “He is your father.”
    “What if I do not wish to?” Simon’s response was fiercer than he had intended. His father had abandoned him after his mother had died, no matter what his reasons were. He could neither change his memory, nor the facts.
    Ralph took a step or two back, and the sharpness of his outline faded a little in the morning gloom. “You will speak to him sooner or later, Scribe, because how can it harm you? You have already come through death, the stars know how, so surely a conversation with a parent you find difficult will be a summer story for you.”
    As always, Ralph used conversation as he used his soldier’s sword: with the intent to pierce. But, as he turned away, Simon had to admit he was right. He swallowed and drew himself up to face his father, who all this while had been hovering at the length of a pruning hook from his side.
    “We will speak together,” Simon said, finding himself unable to say the word father and knowing therefore how abrupt his words sounded. Damn the stars but that could not be helped. “We will speak but not yet. Later, when we have placed the salvaged seed in a safe location, then we will talk.”
    There was more Simon wanted to say although he did not exactly know what the words should be, but the old man groaned and stuttered as if he too were trying to find an unsayable sentence. Simon waited but the silence swept in once more. It felt unnatural, even dangerous. In his hand the mind-cane hummed suddenly and its vibration patterned his skin. For a moment he concentrated, but the cane gave him no clues.
    “Come then,” he said with a sigh. “Follow me. Neither of us are intending to go anywhere else this day-cycle.”

Ninth Gathandrian Interlude

    LOVE

    Annyeke

    Enough was enough. She had sufficient of the truth from the Chair Maker to act, but it would have to wait until the morning-cycle. She could tell how tired her husband was when he returned from speaking with the people, and Talus was already asleep, snoring gently in his bed-area.
    Johan kissed her and took her in his arms. She nestled against him, appreciating the sheer strength of him and the way he made her feel safe, even where safety was the last thing she had expected to feel. Even a bloody-minded redhead and newly-minted First Elder needed a little comfort sometimes.
    How was your talk with the Chair Maker? he asked her, and she was glad he’d chosen thought-words for their conversation. The concept of speaking was beyond her ability.
    She smiled up at him and placed his hand on her forehead. Not that it was necessary for their mind-skills to operate, but Annyeke liked the feeling of being connected with the man she loved, physically as well as mentally. At once, she could feel his mind moving and blending with hers, the sweet splash of melded colours which always made her blink. Within a few short moments, she had shared everything with him: what the Chair Maker had told her, her heartfelt response, and