admit, but a few things seemed very clear."
"Such as?" Ember prompted her as Edeline paused.
"Such as," Edeline continued. "We have a task, but let's set that aside for a moment. She also told us that all of us together are needed to accomplish this task, and that she chose the four of us especially. She must have had a reason for that. Now, I don't know any of you, really, so I don't know what you bring to the matter or why she would have chosen you. I don't know even know how she knows me at all or what she thinks I can contribute, but if we take her at her word, then there must be a reason. I suggest we go around the circle and each of us take a stab at what we think The Hidden One might be wanting from us. Ember? You first?"
"Why her?" Barque demanded. "She's in on it, I'm sure. And what about you? You came with her, didn't you? Um, I mean," he went on, softening his tone, "I'd like to know more about you, so why don't you go first?"
"Yeah," Ember said, "After all, this is your idea."
"Okay," Edeline drew in her breath. "My name is Edeline, as you know. I'm fifty-one years old, but I'm supposed to believe I'm actually thirty two, and that I've been thirty two for nearly twenty years and will be thirty two forever, is that about right? "
The others nodded and murmured their agreement.
"Okay, never mind. I'm just trying to get my head around that. I'm a professional mediator. I spend my days meeting with groups of people who have grievances with each other and can find no other way to work out their problems. Each side tells me their story and signs a legally binding agreement to abide by my decision. It's interesting work and I'm pretty good at it. I can usually find a middle way that everyone can live with, even if no one's happy about it. Other than that, I'm happily married although I never had any children and always wished I did. My husband didn't want them, you see."
"You might have found a different husband," Ember said.
"I might have," Edeline said thoughtfully, "but I love him."
Barque involuntarily snorted at that but quickly covered his face with his hand and pretended to be having a coughing fit. He realized he was going to have to work on his seduction tactics.
"I'm a little girl," Ember huffed. "And I've been a little girl for more than a hundred years. None of you could possibly imagine," she glared at each one in turn. "I have the mind but I don't have the body. I've seen so much. Really, I must have seen it all by now, everything there is to know about humans and existence. I was there at the beginning of all this mess. My grandmother and I were among the first of us. What you don't even know!"
She stopped and there was silence for several long moments. Edeline got the meeting back on track.
"What would you say are your special abilities?" she prompted.
"I can track with the best of them," Ember said. "I know every inch of the territory. I know the special cases, the ins and outs."
"Right," Barque cracked, "you know everything, you can do everything. There's nothing you don't know and nothing you can't do. That’s some special talent!"
"What about you?" Edeline turned to him, speaking as casually and calmly as she could.
"Me? I'm fast. I'm strong. I can move things with my mind. Watch!"
He directed his attention to a large pink rhododendron flower that had fallen to the ground. As he slowly lifted his chin, the flower rose off the ground, and as he turned his head the flower came hovering towards him. Closer and closer it came, almost as if it was willing itself to fly, and then, at the last moment, he shifted his eyes and the flower veered off and floated gently into Edeline's lap.
"I don't have to be anywhere near the thing," Barque clarified. "I can move anything that's anywhere."
"As long as it's small and insignificant," Ember snarled, "like a little flower. I don't you see moving any mountains any time, big boy. I don't see your power doing anything useful to anyone anywhere, ever."
"I'm a Striker," he declared. "You only stop me when you're lucky."
"I stop you because I'm good," she charged back. "And I will stop you every time."
"What do you want to bet?" he offered, but before Ember could raise the stakes, Edeline intervened once again.
"Baudry? That's your name, right? I wasn't sure. What about you?"
"Washed-out," Ember muttered.
"Loser," added Barque as the two of them shared their mutual admiration for the elder.
"I used to be an artist," Baudry told them. "Back in the old world. I was a painter, a sculptor, a filmmaker and a writer. I was also a musician. I played in the Terminal Symphony. First row flute."
"The Terminal Symphony!" Edeline gasped. "That's the highest rank. They're the best in the world."
"I was pretty good," Baudry admitted, "at everything, if I may say so."
"Modest, too!" Ember joked.
"Just the truth," Baudry told her. "I had certain gifts but then, but then a change came over me. We all know what it was now, but at the time I had no idea. I thought I'd merely lost it. One day I woke up and my head was clear. I could see nothing, hear nothing, the way I used to see and hear. It felt like peace of mind and it ruined my life entirely. I lost my positions, my reputation, I became a sort of laughing stock out there. My so-called friends all turned on me, didn't want to know me anymore. I ended up pretty much nowhere, wandering the globe, trying to recapture any one of my arts, but it was all gone, or almost all gone."
"I've heard you play," Ember said as he fell silent. "You can still do that and very well too."
"I can play the notes, it's true," he admitted, "and I can draw most anything, and make the shapes. I still have all the skills but I don't have any, how to put it? I don't have any soul in it. The spirit fled, and left behind a hollow shell."
He stopped again. It was the most he had spoken in months.
"We make a fine team," Barque piped up. "Let's review, shall we? A mediator, an athlete, a superhero and a has-been artist. I can see how that would all make sense. Not."
Edeline shook her head.
"It isn't clear to me either," she admitted. "But now that I think of it, I have an idea."
"Yes?" Ember prompted, suddenly eager.
"She gave us four tasks, and there are four of us called," Edeline said. "Maybe each of us is supposed to do, or at least be in charge of, one of the tasks. To go somewhere, to find something, to take it somewhere and put it somewhere. Ember, you know all the places. Maybe that's where we could start."
"Maybe you're right," Ember said, "but I still don't see it."
"Me either," said Barque. Princess seemed to nod also.
"I'm afraid I have to agree with them," Baudry contributed. "The four of us don't seem to align with all of those tasks."
"I know," Edeline sighed. "I was just hoping that something would begin to make sense."
"Well," Ember declared, rising to her feet, "Like you said, we have to start somewhere. I vote we at least get the hell out of here. And I'm hungry."
"Me too," Barque agreed, also getting up. The other two followed as the group walked away from the Particular Tree.
Eleven
High above the called, an eight-year old boy named Squee was scampering among the trees, tracking their every move, and pausing now and then to scan their minds for scattered thoughts. He was only able to pick up pieces. The old man's transmissions were the clearest for him, but they hardly told a coherent story. The group was off wandering without direction. How could they know what 'remarkable' meant? This was something that Squee felt vibrating over and over again. The cluster he followed was puzzling over that word. It must be important. He might even get a gold star for this.
Squee kept well out of range, or so he believed. Ember knew he was there but didn't concern herself with him. She knew all about the Watchers, who had never caused any disturbance. They were out of the game but into their own, a network of spies vying for prizes from someone, she wasn't sure who, someone who kept himself even more hidden than her grandmother did. She had her suspicions about who he
was, but so far she hadn't been able to prove it.
Squee knew, of course. Every Watcher knew the one who commissioned their actions, the one to whom they reported, the one who handed out stars. Squee's arms and sides were lined with gold stars. The silver and bronze he received he kept in a special reserve, but the gold he had stamped on his body. He loved the way they glittered in the water. Leaping about the highest limbs, he giggled with glee thinking about his next treasures. He clambered away from the group and made his way straight for the lakeside where the Spy master lived.
Bumbarta - the Spy master - knew he was coming but acted as if he did not. He remained in his hut, anticipating the news he'd receive. Usually the Watchers had nothing to tell him, nothing of any importance, but he kept them all at it for a day such as this. He clasped his hands tightly, nervous by the fire he kept burning inside of his hut. He liked to say that the heat was meant for his bones, which were old, cold and frail. His slender frame and narrow face, topped by a mop of silvery hair and a goatee of which he was proud, was bent by the flames when Squee scrambled inside.
"Master," Squee cried, "I brought you some news. Real news! Real news! I think you will like it."
"In a moment," said Bumbarta, feigning indifference, "I can't seem to make myself comfortable." He sat creakily down in the hollowed out stump he used for a chair. When at last he had settled himself, he looked up at the impatient child, who was hopping around on one foot, keeping himself entertained while the