SECTION FOUR:
Children of Blood, Fire, and Storm
Apollonius and Drorli had been immersed in deep discussion the entire trip, talking about everything from exotic insects to battle strategy throughout history. Merna and Alba tired of their prattle long ago and were now resting comfortably in an open-air coach nearer the front of the rail-stage. The pace was slow by the standards of Ma-we’s children, which was the primary reason most in the party had chosen to take it.
The form of transportation known as a ‘rail-stage’ was an ancient anti-gravitational monorail originally designed for the leisurely lifestyle of pre-Rebellion days. From times of antiquity, the home planet had been crisscrossed by these rather sluggish but opulent machines. Almost silent, and slow - maximum speed being about thirty-five miles an hour - the rail-stage offered its passengers time to take in the scenic delights while indulging in pleasant conversation or quiet solitude.
Needless to say, the rail line from Palace City to Oros was one that enjoyed a lazy route, twisting around mountain precipices, traversing bottomless gorges on spindle-thin trestles, or sinking into murky blackness through endless winding tunnels. This suited everyone in the group except Drorli. He was enjoying the trip - the same journey he had taken countless times - but today he was more hurried. As for the others, none had been in the First Realm for very long, and they found the pace more than acceptable.
Alba was excited about this upcoming adventure. She and Hanna arrived in the First Realm within weeks of each other and renewed old acquaintances quickly. Rarely were they separated. Now, though, Alba was headed for Oros to join up with the Army along with her other companions, while Hanna, having been requested to enlist in a Marine division, had long since departed for officer training school. Alba was finding these hours aboard the rail-stage with Merna refreshing and relaxing, two very important ways to calm anxious nerves.
There had been a small going away party the previous night. Alba and Merna took advantage of the gathering to say their goodbyes to old friends from bygone days in the Second Realm and new acquaintances from the First. It might be years before they would join up again, war being what it is, so they lingered late into the night before departing.
Of course, the subject of war could not be avoided. She and Merna had settled in with a small group of other volunteers soon departing for their duty stations. Among them were Apollonius, a close friend, and James, Alba’s life-companion when she lived in the Second Realm. Few in the party had actually participated in military combat, save one man who had been an officer in the legions. The rest were unsure of what exactly to expect or what would be expected of them.
Alba revealed her private concerns about just how brave she might be when faced with battle. At that, James laughed and, patting her on the knee, humorously replied regarding both her and Merna, “How can the daughters of the Heruls not succeed? The blood that flows in your veins is that of the Thracians. Are you two not familiar with the phrase, ‘Who dares to stand against the princes of the Iron Sea’? Indeed, I believe you two were delivered here for that very reason. Asotos’ people will not find comfort in your presence when they realize who holds the line against them.”
Apollonius reached forward and stroked Alba’s golden hair. Then he bent down and looked into her ocean blue eyes. “The sun fell from the sky on the day of your birth and the oceans cried with joy at your making.” Then he frowned. “How little they realized their deception. The fiery blaze is both beautiful and destructive. The poets say that your race is unmatched for its wild savagery in peace and in war. May they prove to be correct.”
Alba shuddered at the meaning of Apollonius’ statement. The time was coming soon enough when she would learn if those words were true. The thought of killing another person, even though an enemy, disturbed her. That was yesterday. Tomorrow would be soon enough to contemplate those things. Alba tipped her head back and closed her eyes, seeking other dreams from more pleasant times.
Drorli and Apollonius’ conversation revolved around Mihai and her encounter with the battle droid after Sirion’s abduction before the Prisoner Exchange. Drorli’s detailed description of the fight led to a rather in-depth discussion of droids. Apollonius had heard smidgens about the Droid Wars, a series of frontier skirmishes fought some five hundred years before, but little detail was given concerning these fighting machines.
Drorli explained, “‘Droid’ is really a misnomer. The word is a shortening of ‘android’, which means an automaton or machine in the form or appearance of living beings. The term was adopted from the automatons – machines - made by Lowenah that some call ‘cherubs’… although I believe they have confused cherubs with ‘spirit inventions - Lowenah’s hidden tools. I perceive Cherubs to be creatures much like us, but far more ancient and possibly far wiser.”
“These droid creations are the ultimate of machines or automatons, designed by the children of Lowenah, possessing artificial intelligence. Some of the more advanced ones have breathtaking abilities. But they’re still programmable machines and, as machines, are only as good as their programmers. Also, we – you and me – have instant reasoning abilities. We call it ‘instinct’. Those machines have to analyze everything. And that slows ‘em down.”
Apollonius was puzzled. “My friend, I have heard others describe cherubs and spirits as if they are one and the same. You speak of the spirits as though they are machines, yet you say they may be smarter than us. How can one have such intelligence and be only a machine?”
Drorli smiled. “My friend, our heart, soul, mind… whatever you wish to call it… the living part of us that is made of the matter, the ‘fabric of the minds’ to which we are not privy… that is what separates us from the programs I speak about. Still, even our minds are inventions of a greater mind, an undying mind. I guess that makes our minds machines of sorts…of sorts.”
He yawned and stretched. “We, though, are not programmed as to how to think or how to act. We have independent thought and can decide how to use what we have been given. Spirits – droids - are programmed or designed to work like complicated tools, to do the will of the one making those tools. Now, as for our body...” He patted his hand on his chest. “it is a most magnificent machine.” He leaned forward and looked Apollonius in the eye. “A machine, none-the-less!”
Drorli sat back. He raised his arm, bending his elbow and making a fist. “See this?” By opening and closing his fingers, he made the tendons on the back of his hand move. “Those are very tough, elastic cables that attach to strong tissues called ‘muscles’ that elongate and contract, moving my fingers. It’s true, I control the action, but it is the mechanical properties and the physical laws built into the hand’s design that gives me freedom to do it. My body is controlled by the will of my mind. It is a machine doing my bidding.”
He rested his hand on the chair’s arm. “My mind wills my body to work for it. My body is a tool used by me to accomplish my desires. It is the device or vehicle that produces stimuli for my mind by helping me understand and react to the world outside my brain. Without it, I would feel nothing, see nothing, know nothing, be nothing. It lets me be who I am. It is a willing machine that I control. But, no matter how wonderful it is, bottom line, it is still a machine.” He slapped the arm of the chair. “And that brings us back to the subject of droids.”
Drorli sank into the plush, carriage-style seat, sighing as he relished its comfort. He was now happily resigned to the lingering journey ahead, having found a person to lavish his storehouse of knowledge on. A steward made his way through the coaches offering snacks and refreshments. By the time Drorli took up his account again, both he and Apollonius were sipping drinks.
While studying his hot brew and watching his friend’s expressions, Drorli went on. “After the Rebellion, Asotos attempted to make biological androids by modifying machinery used in making other creatures of flesh. He understood the building blocks of life
for making animals and man, having been so involved helping Lowenah with the process. To Asotos’ dismay, though, not being able to reach the fabric material of the mind, he was able only to make living, breathing, mindless machines that looked human. After several failed attempts, he surrendered to a means in which he could implant other machines within those creations, permitting his servants to control them.”
He asked Apollonius, “You do recall the stories told of the Fellers?”
Apollonius nodded. Asotos attempted a different and new way to make men and women...more to his liking. “
“He soon realized that what he had produced wasn’t human, but a new kind of intelligent life form. The new creatures born from these sexual acts were strong and powerful, but also twisted and demented, making them difficult even for their fathers to control. For several centuries, Asotos continued his experiments after the Deluge, hoping to eventually create a crop of mutations more usable.”
Drorli peered into his cup then looked up at Apollonius. “His activities becoming so clandestine, proof was hard to obtain as to what lab experiments he was continuing, thus the rumors of kidnappings and abductions of your kind by strange creatures. He has also used his talents to work with genetic manipulation through selective breeding experiments, in an attempt to create a super race naturally, you might say. Well, your kind being the hopelessly independent race that it is, he hasn’t got very far, but he’s still trying.”
Drorli sat up straight. “I think Asotos is still involved in the same attempt, but this time by playing with what is called ‘genome experimentation’. Your people’s quest for knowledge - to become like gods, I mean - may provide him with the needed tools to finish what he has so long wanted: a brutish race of intelligent mutants that will do his bidding. I think that’s part of the reason Lowenah has pushed this war now, to slow things down to meet her timetable.”
All this was not new to Apollonius, but many facets were strange and different, increasing his insight into reasons for coming events. He wished to continue with the android idea, though. “You mention only my old realm in our conversation. Tell me more about the droid experiments here, in your world.”
Drorli smiled. “Here everything failed for him, too. You see, after Asotos rebelled, Lowenah removed his ability to reach into the Fabric of the Minds, he being the only child ever able to do so. Without that ability, any experiments he did in attempting to create living machines came to nothing. He was successful at producing bodies of flesh, some say, that appeared much like us, but they were dismally inferior to Lowenah’s children.”
The rail-stage had slowed as it managed one particularly twisting tunnel. Breaking from the opaque darkness into the blazing afternoon sun, it went crawling along the edge of an extraordinarily deep precipice, winding its way across the face of Kaissal Mountain. Drorli stopped to soak in the enchanting beauty of this wonderland. Here was one place he never tired of - the windswept, barren mountain peaks covered with snow ten months of the year, and the lush, nearly tropical valley thousands of feet below.
Drorli expressed his contentment while revealing an aspect about the lives of Ma-we’s children that was so difficult for Apollonius and his kind to comprehend. “My friend, you are looking down on the lowest dry landmass on this planet. It is nearly one league below sea level. In fact, it was once the ‘Little Kaissal Sea’, mirroring the reflection of this very mountain in its waters. Eventually, the growing mountain range shut off the water flow and the sea dried up, but the rains and melting snows still provided enough moisture to allow such lush greenery as you see below.”
He closed his eyes, viewing in his mind the way it once had been. Letting out a satisfied sigh, he added, “The rail-stage has been replaced through this pass many times since it was first laid here.” He pointed across the valley to another high peak. “That’s ‘Obeb Spur Mountain’, the very end of the ‘Northern Spur Mountain Range’. We will soon come to the ‘Trangil High Pass’, the longest single-line trestle ever built. From there, we will cross over to the ‘Obeb Divide’ and start our long descent to Oros, which is located at the far eastern edge of the range.”
The windows of the rail stage had automatically closed when the outside temperature dropped to an uncomfortable level. Drorli poked his finger against the glass, his breath steaming it up as he spoke. “When the Kaissal Valley was an inland sea, it was much wider than today. The Obeb Spur was over twenty leagues from here. Now it is little more than one.” He turned to Apollonius. “Someday these two mountains will become one. I imagine this area will then be called the ‘Great Kaissal Mountain Range’.
The steward entered the coach offering refills. The two men thanked him for his kindness and then returned to their earlier conversation. Apollonius asked, “So what then of droids? What of the Droid Wars? Are there any kind of droids today?”
Drorli confirmed there were. “Yes, there are what you might call ‘droids’ today, but they’re not the two-legged ones that look like us. After his human experiment failed, Asotos went to work on other forms of intelligent machines - machines that would have independent thought and reasoning. He built several types of constructs that imitated various life forms. Once he was satisfied with a physical shape - which by the way, look nothing like us - he proceeded to develop a brain of sorts to use in it. Droids, you will find, have more of an insect appearance. Manufacturing an exoskeleton is relatively easy to do. Besides, the protective outer shell can be made strong to serve as armor without adding excessive weight or cost to the droid.”
“Then, by using an electrochemical replicating process, silicon and carbon-type biologics could be grown inside the shell’s cavities. Asotos developed a process where the finished machine’s internals could self-repair or heal themselves, and created a digestive system of sorts so they could consume organic materials to maintain their energy levels. All this is controlled with a highly advanced computing system. Still, in the end, Asotos has only created a very complex machine.”
“Sounds pretty scary to me!” Apollonius interjected. “Was it an insect droid that attacked Mihai?”
“Well, yes, you might say.” Drorli admitted. “But you’re getting ahead of things.”
Both men settled back into the seats as Drorli went on. “To this day, most droids are somewhat insect-like, flying, walking, used for spying or guarding places by both sides. Asotos, though, tried to build an army of them.”
“All droids have limited artificial intelligence. Without the Fabric of the Mind, nothing really living, like an animal - let alone a man - can be produced. As I earlier alluded to, all droids have to be programmed, their intelligence limited to the complexity of the information loaded into them and the power of the computer brain using the program. Asotos spent some three millenniums in developing his ultimate droid. When finished, he reproduced thousands of them to war against the frontier colonies.”
Apollonius shuddered at the thought of thousands of giant insect monsters attacking innocent people.
Drorli quickly added, “He failed miserably. True, a few have fallen victim to these monstrosities but, in the end, they have proved very inept at what they were designed to do. They are easily out-thought and out-fought. In fact, Asotos’ obsession with making intelligent machines has taken away precious resources from other endeavors which has helped lead to his suffering many military defeats.”
“While Asotos was bent on inventing the ultimate android, Lowenah’s children were busy inventing machines that worked with them, enhancing their inherent abilities - machines that were symbiotic in function. Their labors finally led to the development of a smart sword called the ‘derker blade’. It draws its energy from the person wielding it. In fact, with its built-in artificial intelligence working with the person’s thought processes, the weapon becomes an extension of the person. When first introduced in battle, our enemy was left nearly defenseless. The sword can move so fast, arrows and other
solid projectiles are fended off by those skilled in its use. To this day, few weapons have excelled over that wonderful machine.”
Drorli shrugged. “Both sides have ‘em now, but like Lowenah’s children with the droids, Asotos only grudgingly accepted the swords. Droids require a great deal of labor and resources to produce, not to mention the number of inventive minds it removes from other fields of research to develop a working model. While Asotos bogged his laboratories down with trying to recreate life, Lowenah’s children were busy improving their own weapons of war. This difference eventually gave the margin of victory over to us, tipping the scales of battle to our side. If we had been as brutal as he is…as your kind are…we would have driven him out of this realm long ago.”
Drorli sadly shook his head. “We held the edge throughout the Great War, but then we slept at our post, thinking he was safely contained by our impressive battle fleets. I’m afraid our brother has now made up for lost time. This coming war will be fought on a much more level field as far as weapon power is concerned.” He smiled reassuringly. “We still have superior fighters. The TKR17, with a good pilot, will out-match the enemy’s Endikos- 23 any day and is something to be reckoned with. It’s another of those symbiotic machines like the derker blade. We just have too few of them.”
The rail-stage rounded a sheer rock-face. Looming ahead was what looked like a thin, dark line that stretched from one side of a deep chasm to the other. Extending down from the dark line, thousands of web-like girders formed an arch that anchored into the mountains walls. Apollonius let out a whistle and asked, “Are we supposed to cross over that thing?!”
Drorli laughed. “What’s wrong, my friend? Look a little flimsy, does it? Not like those giant stone ones you’re used to?” He stood up, signaling Apollonius to do the same. “Let’s find the others. We’ll have a better view up further.”
They found Alba and Merna just as the monorail swept into its turn and over the bridge’s abutment. Standing in the car, now with its extraordinarily large windows closed, the travelers could see clearly in both directions the length of the canyon, and nearly straight down. For the three relative newcomers to this world, the view was spellbinding. With eyes wide, they peered through the windows, too mesmerized to speak. Drorli smiled at their expressions then turned to soak in the view. He wondered to himself at just how easy it was to become dulled to the surrounding beauty, forgetting just how grand and special things could be.
In a few moments, the canyon was left behind. Shortly, the rail-stage entered a tunnel that cut its way through the side of Obeb Spur Mountain, hurrying its descent to Oros. The party remained in the car, choosing seats that surrounded a tiny circular table fastened to the floor. For some time, Drorli immersed himself in describing the historical significance of this bridge and its rail system, but he was eventually interrupted.
Apollonius was still haunted by a question from the earlier discussion and finally had to ask about it. “You speak of machines and people having symbiotic relationships. In my study of bugs, I have found that plants and animals, or animals and animals, even plants and plants can develop such, but how can a nonliving thing know what will benefit someone living?”
Drorli laughed. “You’re right of course - if we are to take the word literally. I have used the conceptual meaning to explain how advanced some of our machines have become.” He looked at the women’s growing expressions of dismay. He laughed. “Just this one point... My people have built machines that have the ability to think and reason… to a degree. The TKR17 is an excellent example. Located in the pilot’s helmet are countless sensors that send messages back and forth between the ship and the pilot. Over time, the machine’s brain develops some form of understanding of the operator’s thought processes, including emotional makeup. It starts to react accordingly…to the thought processes, I mean. To sum it up: reaction time is greatly decreased. And that’s good when it comes to war.” Standing true to his promise, Drorli changed the subject.
The remaining journey to Oros went by quickly. By the time they arrived at Oros High Station, it was nearing the dinner hour. Most of the passengers exited hurriedly onto the main platform, located in the center of the enclosed station. They scurried away on business... (no one visited Oros these days unless it was on business, paying little attention to the ornate columns, carvings, and fountains) and were swallowed up in the bowels of this vaulted, manmade cavern, the fading echoes of parting feet the only evidence of their passing.
Drorli and Apollonius strolled back to retrieve personal items the party carried with them, asking the others to remain there. As the women waited, Alba stared out the window at the grandiose magnificence of this structure. She finally exclaimed, “I believed it was only for selfish indulgence that people built the wonders of our old world, but now I must reconsider my views. This makes the Palace of Emperors pale in comparison in its extravagance.”
Stepping out from the stage, the party was greeted by Zadar and another officer. He politely inquired about their trip, also asking if they had eaten. Station attendants labored with the removal of luggage, using ancient push flat-carts to deliver it to the receiving area. Zadar assisted the others with baggage retrieval and ushered everyone toward the exit doors where they walked from the station into a winter wonderland. “The first snow of this season...” Zadar called out. “It’s come early this year.”
He stamped some of the wet flakes that were sticking on the worn granite stoop outside the door and then pointed southeast. “It’s raining down the valley. From Oros High Station to Eastern Gateway Station, near the army base, there’s nearly a half-mile difference in elevation.”
Merna became curious. “Why were we asked to depart here when the lower station would have delivered us near the base?”
Zadar laughed as he offered his hand to assist her down the steps to the street. “My dear, lovely woman, the rail-stage would take another two hours to reach Eastern Gateway Station, having to crawl down through the city and stop at four other stations en route to its final destination. It was felt that a relaxing dinner in one of our renowned eateries would suit you better than more of that travel food. I do hope you’re not disappointed with the decision.”
They stopped at the street curb and he tenderly squeezed Merna’s hand before releasing it. The woman’s cheeks flushed red, a sheepish smile growing on her face. The way this man was flirting reminded her of a time not so long ago. Her smile suddenly melted into a gloomy frown. She was married...had been...had children. Zadar’s actions were so much like that her of her husband, bringing back memories of their parting on the day of their arrest. As those burning emotions were rekindled, she rested a hand upon her now empty belly and turned away, groaning in mournful lament.
Zadar apologized remorsefully, “I am so sorry! I had not intended to offend you. I wasn’t thinking. I am truly sorry to hurt my Lady. Please forgive me for acting so disrespectfully toward you.”
Merna pushed out her hand, motioning for Zadar to be silent. Slowly turning back to face him, her tear-filled eyes staring into his, in little above a choking whisper she softly replied, “You spoke no evil to me. It is I who had forgotten my reason for being here, for this war and my part in it. You have helped me come to my senses.”
Looking into the evening sky, filled with sparkling snowflakes flitting around the lamplights, Merna angrily sighed, “I have come to right a terrible wrong. To me it has been granted the privilege to search out those who murdered my family…my husband, daughter, and still unborn child. Revenge has been offered to me.”
Merna’s hands began to shake and her face filled with seething rage. She moved close and clutched hold of Zadar’s coat. Staring him in the eyes, she angrily cried out an oath. “I swear! As I live, I swear with all my heart! I will paint myself red with the blood of those who destroyed my life!”
Zadar raised his hand to her arm as she buried her fa
ce in his coat. Mourning apologetically, “Forgive me, please, for being so outspoken. I have held so many troubled thoughts in for too long. Now I have unleashed them at an improper time.”
“No, no, my dear one.” Zadar wrapped his arms around Merna. “Now is a good time. This night is a good time. You will sleep a restful sleep tonight because your heart has revealed itself in all its honesty. Should all men be as free as you have made yourself this eve.”
Others in the party said nothing. For them, each had some story to tell…one of pain or fear, love or hate. To see their sister express her feelings so openly made them feel more at ease with their own emotions secreted behind bolted doors. Through Merna’s tumult, they had come to a new level of inner peace.
The solemn quiet that had come over the group was suddenly broken by the roaring sound of rapidly approaching road machines. With lights setting ablaze darkened streets, two motor coaches pulled up to the curb, brakes squealing as they came to an abrupt stop. The lead coach had four doors with rear seating, making room for six passengers. The second one had two doors with one bench seat for the driver and possibly two riders. Behind each cab was a spacious flat platform covered by a removable canvas top.
The officer accompanying Zadar opened the door of the first vehicle and offered his hand to the person seated there. “Major Chasileah, may I assist you?”
Chasileah graciously accepted and, taking his hand, stepped onto the sidewalk. “Good evening, everyone… Major Zadar… General Drorli.”
Apollonius and the others looked at Drorli in surprise. “General!?” Apollonius asked. “We have been traveling with a general? What an honor!”
Drorli laughed. “Yes, a general, but a title gained by very little gallantry. I was asked to join an engineering corps to head up one of its divisions. A pencil pusher’s job, if I may say. I’ve had some experience in fabrication and design - little else, you know. So they gave me something I could do.”
Chasileah interjected. “Our pencil pusher general is most highly respected for his outstanding services provided throughout this long rebellion. He helped develop processes that have enabled us to establish many a bridgehead and his design work has been implemented in several military complexes.”
Drorli politely brushed away the praise, and then changed the subject. “I have been informed that dinner is waiting us. Shall we load our baggage and be off? I’m starved!”
Everyone agreed. When finished, the officer accompanying Zadar climbed in the cab next to the driver. The motor roared to life. In moments, the backlights were all that could be seen as the machine sped down the street toward the base.
Apollonius watched until the truck noise faded away. He scratched his head, asking, “You people have such wonderful machines. Some float above the road, others are so quiet. What is it with these war wagons, anyway? Do you make ‘em to scare the enemy?”
Zadar cheerfully answered, “No, my friend, that’s a new invention by the current powers in charge. Those things are called ‘half-deuces’ or ‘quarter-deuces’. We call ‘em ‘Garlock’s Fancy’, named after one of your kind, a certain Jebbson Garlock. He’s what you’d call some ‘big cheese’ with the boss - Mihai. They’re built off a design your people used in some of your recent bloodletting contests back home. This Garlock fellow says that we need to direct our time and resources to where it counts the most - building weapons. So now those clunky, noisy, smelly contraptions are our new transportation.”
A tone of good-natured funning was carried in Zadar’s words, but it did belie a truism regarding the feelings of Ma-we’s children. They wanted to win the war and were willing to sacrifice anything to accomplish it. Still, there was a feeling of dismay among many about the child-student usurping the chieftain role over the old guard. Few surrendered themselves to such resentment, but most accepted that it lay hidden within their hearts. For nearly six thousand years, they had held the line against evil. Now, these people - not much older than babes and delivered to this place only recently - were setting out new rules for the game about to be played.
Drorli chimed in. “Do be careful, young master Zadar! It was only a short time ago you concluded that the children of the Realms Below would be the key used to defeat our brother. As I recall hearing it, you’ve been quite taken by these creatures yourself, spending more than the usual time in their company.” He looked at Merna holding Zadar’s hand. “Now why don’t you explain to our friends the reasons for Colonel Garlock’s designs.”
Zadar eyed Drorli. “I was about to do that very thing, but then someone intruded into my line of thought...my dear general.” Everyone laughed as Drorli threw up his hands as if to ward off a blow.
Zadar grinned. “Maaa-jor Garlock – ‘Jebbson’, as most of us call him - said we need to build such devices because they are easy to maintain and repair, even in the theater of war. The very simplicity of design and common construction materials makes it possible to manufacture such things almost anywhere. Keeping costs down on general-purpose equipment, like these transports, enables us to devote more energy and resources into building our frontline weapons.”
Drorli added, “These machines are named for the weight in tonnes they are designed to carry, ‘deuce’ being the standard of one tonne or two thousand, two hundred pounds. We have quarter-deuces, half-deuces, three-quarter deuces, and deuces. Then we have deuce-and-a-half and double deuces. Practical maybe, but I think it makes for rather dull-sounding names.”
Alba had been silent, soaking in meanings and feelings, but now her hunger was getting the best of her. “I think your people and my people are very much alike, Mr. Zadar. I have been told that you are gathering thousands of horses at this very moment, to be added to your military strength. You speak of our lack of elegance and obsession with the practical. I find your people are often lost in wistful romance for yesterday’s dreams, wishing to believe that shining armor and burnished blades will carry the day. We both see the same objective, but from two different extremes.”
Zadar did a polite half bow. “My dear Alba, lady of the King and keeper of the Promise...what say you, your Excellency? How shall we acquire satisfaction in this dilemma?”
Alba was no longer in a mood for casual conversation. “It has been said, ‘There is a time for all things. If we are to fight then lets us fight. If we are to philosophize then let us philosophize.’ I say when it is time to eat, there is no room for war or philosophy.”
The laughter was loud and cheerful. Apollonius patted Alba on the back, complementing her on such profound wisdom. Drorli called out that all should follow the lady’s sound advice. Chasileah encouraged everyone to pile into Jebbson’s wonderful machine. Zadar looked up at a lamplight, snow twirling around in its golden radiance and sang an ode to the delights of good company and fine food. The others threatened to leave him and he had to run to catch the ride.
Crawling into the back seat of the coach, he couldn’t help making one final complaint. “They could have put heaters in these things, at least!” Turning to catch the others’ glances, he added, “You’d think...”