The Loved and the Lost (26 page)

“Sorry to disturb, my dears,”
Arimus's voice said in all the teen's minds.
“Sideways will now transport you unimpeded,
as your presence at the meeting is now needed.”

The deer was now skinned and cut into large pieces, ready to be wrapped in foil-like envelopes and put into backpacks for carrying to the village.

“There, slave, was it as bad as you imagined?” the Deganawida asked.

“No, Master. It wasn't. Thank you, Master.”

The interaction between this master and slave reminded Hansum of his late father-in-law, Agistino della Cappa, and how he and Lincoln had to behave as apprentices.

“Good, slave,” the Deganawida said slowly. “Another five or six hunts and I shall be able to trust you to do this by yourself.” The boy beamed. “Now, put everything into our two packs so we can carry them back.”

“They'll be heavy, Master. Can't we call a transport to come and get them?” the Deganawida looked at him, saying nothing. “Sorry, Master,” and he lowered his eyes.

“Come, Journeyman Hansum. Let us walk and chat for a few minutes, while my slave does his work.”

“It was nice meeting you, sir,” the young man said to Hansum. “You've been a hero of mine.” Hansum and The Deganawida looked back at the boy.

“Heroes?” the Deganawida questioned, almost with disgust. “Get back to work.”

The two men began walking through the woods in silence, Hansum thinking how the Deganawida had referred to him as a journeyman several times. It had only been days since he earned that accreditation and was one of the few facts the world didn't know about him yet. Obviously, something was up.

“So, since you've been following my progress and have access to my training records. . .” Hansum began.

“I hope you are not offended,” the Deganawida replied gently.

“No Elder. I'm just curious as to why.”

The elder laughed. “I can usually do my job more stealthily. It's better if those whom I counsel come to their own conclusions. But you have seen through it all. What was it? Oh, of course. I called you a journeyman.”

Hansum stopped and turned.

“Sir, I doubt you did it by mistake. It was a test, as is your last statement about it being a mistake.”

The Deganawida laughed again. “You've had good teaching about reading between the lines and understanding motives. I did not see that on your curriculum.”

“My mentor for that skill was Mastino della Scalla.”

“Perhaps I'm not equal to the task I've been given with you.”

“What task is that, Elder?”

“My old friend, Arimus, asked me to see what I can do about your recent hardening of temperament.”

Suddenly, without apparent reason, a wave of emotion swept over Hansum. It was stronger than any he had experienced so far. He stopped walking and shut his eyes tightly. He felt completely blindsided by this seemingly innocent comment. ‘Why?' an inner voice screamed. Part of him knew. He was standing with one of the most experienced mentors on the planet, most probably a doctor of psychology, the spiritual head of a whole people, and also someone trusted by Arimus. This had to be why Arimus arranged the meeting with the Council to be here. Hansum suddenly felt vulnerable. He put a hand to his chest.

“Are you ill?” the Deganawida asked.

“No sir. Just dizzy,” Hansum replied, reaching out for the nearest tree. The Deganawida took Hansum's arm and walked him to the towering oak. Hansum grabbed the rough bark to steady himself.

“Whatever it is,
it
wants to come out, my son.”

This simple statement caused Hansum to fall against the tree. His hands flew up and he grabbed great clumps of his hair.

“I know, I know,” Hansum answered in a constricted voice. “But I don't know what
it
is.”

“Arimus fears that whatever is troubling you will affect your judgment in the field and also the trust your comrades have in you!”

Upon hearing that Arimus's worries mirrored his own, Hansum ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut harder. Why, why was this conversation causing him to fall apart?

“I . . . I fear that too!” he said breathlessly.

The Deganawida brought his face close.

“And the way you are acting to others, is this what's causing your mind to be troubled?”

Hansum held his breath, staring into space. “No,” he said, then, “Yes. Maybe. I mean,” Hansum's confusion was palpable. “I mean I don't know. No, no, no, I don't know.”

The Deganawida didn't rush. He contemplated before asking his next question. “Do you think the way you are acting could be a symptom and not a cause?”

“A what?” There was a catch in Hansum's voice.

“A symptom of the cause. The . . . true cause.”

“I . . . I don't understand.”

“Perhaps these actions toward others are an indication of something that is troubling you. Something you don't want to face. So your subconscious makes you act out in . . . odd ways.”

Hansum shivered. He leaned back against the oak, trying to breathe slowly. He had practiced this in battle classes, calming himself before an assault on some objective. Was he attacking an objective here?

“I . . . I don't know what you're talking about,” Hansum answered. He could feel the demon lurking in his mind, looking for the bottomless pit of his subconscious, a place where the light of truth could never shine. Hansum stared at the Deganawida. This man's countenance seemed to exude a power to draw the best out of people . . . no matter how much it hurt.

“Most know the answers to the things they are struggling with. They only balk at admitting these answers to themselves . . . because of an inner fear.”

A flash of anger flared up in Hansum. “I'm not afraid!” he bellowed defensively. He glared fiercely and thrust out the hand with the scar. “I would do this a thousand times without hesitation if . . .” Hansum froze.

“If what, my son?”

“If I thought . . .”

“If you thought what?” the mentor prompted. Hansum remained silent for some seconds.

“If I thought I had a . . .”

“Had a?”

“Chance. A chance,” Hansum finally admitted quietly. “If I thought I had a chance.”

“A chance for what, Hansum?”

Hansum looked away, staring into space, bereft of words. His breaths were long and slow. After a while the Deganawida leaned around, so he could look him squarely in the face. The spiritual man's movement was enough to repeat his question without words. Finally Hansum spoke, still very quietly. And as he did, his hands, and then his whole body, began to shake.

“If I thought I had a chance . . . of success.” And then Hansum began to weep. Large tears welled up in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks. His face contorted and a sob wrenched itself up from his chest. He expelled two, then three more sobs, tears flowing until he no longer had the breath to make a sound, and when finally he could inhale, a pitiful rasping sound hurt his throat. Still shaking, and through clouded eyes, Hansum peered at the Deganawida. The spiritual leader was looking back at him with such quiet and compassionate eyes that he seemed to give Hansum permission to continue crying. He slid down the tree trunk, onto the ground and began to wail. The Deganawida sat down next to him, cross-legged and looking away, patiently waiting for Hansum to release whatever was pent-up inside him. This went on for several minutes, Hansum gasping for breath and clasping and re-clasping his hands. Finally the Deganawida turned and faced Hansum.

“Say it out loud, my son. It is important to say with your own mouth what is troubling you.”

“I'm . . . I'm afraid, Elder.”

“Afraid of what?”

“Of . . .” Hansum's lips quivered. “. . . failure,” he finally whispered. “. . . again. I've failed Guilietta . . . I've failed her three times. Because of me, she's died in pain. Awful . . .” and he exploded with sobs again, “. . . pain! I failed her and she died in agony. I failed her and she died in agony,” he repeated. “I failed her and . . . she died. I'm afraid . . . I'll fail . . . and she'll have . . . more pain.” And he began to cry again, this time without constraint, his long wail echoing through the canopy of nature's temple.

“Good,” the Deganawida said. “Good,” and he put his hand on Hansum's knee and sat as the sobbing continued.

After several minutes they heard footsteps. They looked up and there was the boy, the slave. He had one of the packs on his back and was lugging the second.

“Here you are, Master. I've brought your . . .” He saw the state Hansum was in and stood transfixed.

“Leave the one pack and go back to the village, Daniel,” the Deganawida said. “I will follow soon.”

“Yes, Master,” the slave named Daniel answered. He dropped the second pack and, still staring, continued on. Hansum locked eyes with him, unashamed of his circumstances. Then Daniel turned and continued through the wide, open walkway under the trees.

“Slave,” the mentor called out, and the boy stopped and turned. “You referred to our friend as a hero. Do you use that word because you wish to honor his strengths?”

Daniel seemed to think about it and then spoke. “Not just because of his strengths, Master. I admire him and call him a hero because he persists through his struggles.”

“Ah. Very good. Then this man is a hero,” the Deganawida said, and he patted Hansum's knee again. Daniel smiled, turned and left.

Hansum was sitting motionless. The Deganawida got up and went to the backpack. He removed a bronze canteen from an outside pocket, unscrewed the horn cap and brought it to Hansum.

“Wash your face, my son. You'll feel better.” Hansum cupped his hands. He splashed cold water on his face three times. It did feel good. “Now drink.” Hansum drank deep, feeling cleansed. He sighed and passed the canteen to the Deganawida, who also took a long drink.

“Thank you, Elder,” Hansum said. “I feel much better.”

“Good,” the Deganawida replied. “Remember that a person's critical mind and their emotions are two distinct things, but living in one body. The mind knows what must be done, while the heart cries out for what it craves. In time you will gain the wisdom to know when . . .”

But there was to be no time for Hansum. Arimus, with Sideways looking out from his cloak, site transported in front of them.

“Ah, Hansum, here you are.
We've been looking for you, near and far.”

“Arimus, you old rattlesnake,” the Deganawida said. “It's nice to see you again.”

“And you too, Andy . . . oh, forgive me, I mean,
Deganawida, Great Peacemaker.
I see you found our boy.”

“He found me, actually, and we've had a good talk. He'll be fine.”

“He found you?
A coincidence or of nature a quirk?
Isn't it fascinating how these things seem to work?
How are you, son?”

Hansum began to say something, but Sideways interrupted. “There's no time to catch up.”

“Quite right, my friend.
Come, Hansum, it's that time again,
to beard the lion in his den.”

“The Council? Now?” Hansum asked, jumping to his feet. “Are we going to pick up the others first?”

“They're awaiting us there already.
Come, of Sideways take hold his sleeve.
Andy, have you reconsidered my proposal?
With your skills, a great time traveling elder you'd be.”

While Hansum moved to Arimus, the Deganawida stayed cross-legged on the ground.

“No, I must refuse again,” he answered. “There's enough guidance to be done in this one era. I'll leave the rest of time to you.”

“Come on, we have to go,” Sideways complained. “You saw the mood those fool Council members are in. We don't want to give them more time to confuse themselves.”

“Thank you again, Elder,” Hansum said, taking a handful of Sideways's cloak.

“You are welcome, young friend. When one faces and understands one's fears, one goes a long way to alleviating them. He's all yours, Arimus.” Arimus looked straight into Hansum's face.

“There's the old Hansum I've missed.
Sideways, away.”

The first things Hansum noticed when he appeared in the longhouse with Arimus and Sideways were a long, hand-hewn table with twelve chairs, six a side. Half were occupied by men and half by women, and all their A.I.s were backed up against the longhouse wall, giving their humans a wide berth. This separation of humans and A.I.s was strange enough, but nobody was smiling.

Actually, one person did look happy. It was Elder Cassian Olama, the aged representative from the future. He sat contentedly in a thirteenth chair at the head of the table, his chin resting on an upraised palm, his eyes closed. He once again appeared fast asleep. Talos was hovering at the other end of the table with Shamira, Kingsley and Lincoln. He presumed Medeea was there too.

As the History Camp Time Travel Council members noticed the new arrivals, Elder Cynthia Barnes turned around. She was gracious enough to smile.

“Ah, here you are,” she said pleasantly to Hansum. “We thought you had become lost.”

“I was out in the woods with the Deganawida, helping butcher a deer,” Hansum explained.

“Yuck!” Elder Parmatheon Olama said, making a face. “I'm a vegan. It's been horrible getting meals here.”

“Nonsense,” Elder Barnes laughed. “I'm vegetarian and find this community has the largest selection of fresh produce I've ever seen.”

“We disagree again,” Parmatheon Olama said. “Now, let's get on with the meeting so we can vote against the proposal and I can go home. So we can all go home. I've already got the votes.”

This took Hansum aback. He wasn't so much surprised Parmatheon was against him as he was that he would say it so blatantly, even before Hansum was allowed to make his presentation.