Tokus Numas (8 page)

When she had gone, Vetus Sepher leaned forward. “It can be a challenge to leave one’s home not knowing what is out there or what to expect, but try to open yourself to other possibilities in life. When we struggle and overcome, we often enjoy what is best in life. Let’s walk.”

The two of them left the garden and were soon walking the great hall lit by gas torches and lined with portraits of King Amerstall’s forefathers, conquerors of their time, dressed in their armor, wearing red cloaks and holding golden swords, axes, spears, and shields.

Portraits changed from conquerors to benefactors—kings wearing jeweled crowns, bracelets, and rings and holding gem-encrusted scepters in their hands. These men lived in the time of solace; some called it the time of peace, and others called it a deafening silence. Times had changed; battles and skirmishes had sparked over the past forty seasons, and precautions had been put in place to keep them to a minimum.

Vetus Sepher came to a stop. “This here,” he said, putting his finger on a single-page document encased in glass, “is called the Treaty of Eximius, which is also known as Treaty Eight-Oh-Nine. Are you familiar with it?” He studied Petro.

“I am, sir. It is the treaty formed to protect the kingdoms of Spearca, and it was considered to have ushered in a golden era. I know my history, Numa.”

“That is correct.” Vetus Sepher turned and put his hands behind the small of his back. He clasped them together while continuing to walk down the corridor. “It’s been nearly two hundred seasons since it was adopted, though many of our advances in technology did not exist when it was formed. Some say it needs to change. Others say—”

“I think it benefits as is,” said Petro.

“Why?” Vetus Sepher peered through eyes that were slits.

“Because it takes away the advantages of wealthier kingdoms and levels the battlefield for all kingdoms, so their men, horses, swords, and shields are equal.” Petro reached up to touch his cheek.

Vetus Sepher held up his finger. “True and not true. It does help to level the field of battle, but small arms can still be used, and they can be made to be more accurate, more lethal.”

Petro was noticeably irritated; by what, Vetus Sepher did not know. “They can, but it does not take a massive treasury of funds to produce a better rifle or pistol—most are fairly equal now. Just as the steel in our armor and weapons are nearly the same.” Petro kept pace with Vetus Sepher. Their boot heels clicked lightly against the hard surface.

Vetus Sepher nodded. “And what about men?”

Petro held his passive look. “You think men are different? Some are, but most are just like one another. There is not much difference, only in the training, and if trained better than the other men, they can overcome and win. But as I’ve learned, sir, it’s not the strength of one man that wins, but the collaboration of many that becomes the strength to overcome.” His brow stretched, and he wore a cocked grin.

“Men are weapons, are they not?” Vetus Sepher glanced over at Petro.

Petro was exasperated. “I’ve learned this all before, sir. No disrespect intended. There’s nothing more for me to learn on the topic of Treaty Eight-Oh-Nine.” He appeared smug. “I thought you were to prepare me for tomorrow’s ceremony,” Petro said.

Vetus Sepher ran his fingers over his stubble, keeping his focus forward as they continued their walk. “Where is your tablet?”

Petro looked away, admiring the paintings on the wall. “I lost it.”

Vetus Sepher grunted. He could see Petro was hiding his true emotions. “Men are weapons.”

Petro rubbed the sore spot on his cheek and pressed harder; he winced. “While it’s true a weapon is only as good as the man wielding it, a great fighter is still limited to what he can do when faced with a marabomb.” Petro rubbed his temple.

“Yes, that is true enough, though a man himself is a weapon. He can take life with his bare hands; he can use his mind to create a weapon to kill hundreds in a single moment; and he can do things that none of our handheld weapons can do—that is, he can think,” Vetus Sepher said.

“We all can think,” Petro said. “Are we done yet?” A scowl ran over his face.

“Hold your tongue. I’m not finished.” Vetus Sepher’s face tightened.

Petro’s cheeks flushed red.

“The treaty does not restrain the use of biological technologies, does it?” Vetus Sepher said.

“Yes, it would not preclude biotech, but it would be unethical to use biological weapons to win a war,” Petro said.

“The Free City is being used; the minds of those who reside there are bought for such work,” Vetus Sepher said, looking at one of the king’s portraits.

“The use of science or engineering from the Free City is contracted through Dugual. I’m aware that there are underground dealings and black markets, though I don’t know the extent of them…” Petro’s voice trailed off.

“Coin moves behind royal eyes, and technology that you and I know nothing about is being created just for this very purpose,” Vetus Sepher said. “One of our roles as Numas is to find out what is being created, inform disadvantaged kingdoms, and hope for the best.”

Petro halted. “Hope for the best? Is that what you do?”

Vetus Sepher gave a half-conceited smile and shook his head. “No, it is not. We try to help make the playing field equal and use our intelligence for the good of many, not the individual.”

“Who watches you to ensure you’re not corrupting the playing field?” Petro shot back.

“No one. We have a code of honor. There have been times when we’ve had to enforce our code, but it doesn’t happen often; the consequences are…unpleasant,” Vetus Sepher said.

“What about Dugual? King Amerstall’s kingdom is not one of disadvantage. Does that mean you will not inform Dugual if there are any biotechnical products created for the sole purpose of war?” Petro said and waited. “Is there a danger to Dugual? A new weapon out there that King Amerstall doesn’t know about?”

“Petro, we inform kingdoms we believe will become the target of such a weapon, which in our eyes makes them disadvantaged. If Dugual were to receive a biological attack, and we knew about, we would inform King Amerstall’s security.”

They stopped at the end of the corridor, where a portrait of King Amerstall of Dugual hung. He wore armor and held no weapon, not even a scepter. He was dressed in a khalat, a long coat with the neckline covered by a collar, and on his head was mounted a golden crown infused with gems, sapphires, emeralds, and pearls. His portrait was pure light, an intricate design so precise that if one were passing by in the middle of the night, one just might mistake this image for the real king himself.

Vetus Sepher stopped and faced Petro. “We should talk about tomorrow. It’s an important day—for you and for Dugual. You are a ward in his castle, and many of King Amerstall’s allies have come to pay respect. I hope you understand.”

Petro exhaled.

Vetus Sepher could tell it was a sigh of relief that Petro was finally going to hear about what to expect in the ceremony.

“Tomorrow you’ll wear a blue robe. There are four others being inducted along with you. Sha from Dugual, Christon from Derrak, and also Adar also from Nelot. They’ll proceed before you, leaving you last. When your time comes, you will repeat the words spoken to you before you are cleansed by water,” Vetus Sepher said. “You’ll be submerged in water for only a few moments. It’s a way for us to wash away the past and begin a new way of life.”

“What would happen if I don’t repeat the words?” Petro said. The challenge was clear. He waited to see what Vetus Sepher would say.

Vetus Sepher began walking again, forcing Petro to follow him.

They entered into the great hall, where large columns supported the massive ceiling above that was painted with a fresco. Vetus Sepher looked up at the fresco, admiring its beauty. There was a period of silence before he spoke again.

“I wanted to be a painter when I was young. Before I went to Tokus Numas,” Vetus Sepher said.

Petro listened more intently. “Truly, you paint? Like those pictures on the ceiling?” Petro pointed up.

“Not exactly. I dabble in paints, but these painters are masters. There is a special technique they use,” he said.

“How so?” Petro said.

“When painters begin, they apply a fresh coat of plaster on the ceiling and lay the pigment into the damp material before it dries; this is how they paint. Binding agents that they use on canvas paintings, such as eggs, are not needed, since the pigment adheres to the plaster through a chemical reaction as it cures. The plaster only accepts pigmentation for up to twelve hours, so the painter needs to remain focused during that entire time.”

“Hmmm.” Petro looked up at the ceiling.

“Most of the detailed work is done within what they call the golden hour, where the plaster is at its most accepting of the pigmentation. It occurs near the end of the day, after much of the painting is done. This is the time to focus on intricate details and vibrant colors. Once the details are complete and before the golden hour has lapsed, the paint begins to change to an opaque tone. The section is finished, and the next day, a new layer of lime plaster is applied and left to cure for two days, and the work begins again.” Vetus Sepher put his hand on Petro’s shoulder.

Petro gazed up at the patterns, the display of colors, and the uniqueness of it all. “These were the old kings.”

Vetus Sepher removed his hand, giving Petro his space. They looked up together, seeing paintings depicting kings of generations past holding festivities, games of jousting, and archery. Other scenes depicted people eating at long tables covered with silver cups filled with wine and silver plates holding delicacies of hog’s head and boiled deerling. Each ruler of his time was depicted with his wife, children, and extended family members.

“There is the first king, Glamstone,” Petro said. “That one over there is King Kane, who was called the rogue king. They say he painted over blood left on the ceiling after a massive battle in this very hall. But no one knows how so much blood got up there.”

King Kane’s paintings were unusual compared to the others—his had scenes of young, half-dressed ladies and dueling battles—three of them, and in each scene he had beheaded a man.

“He’s taken up a lot of space,” Petro said, chuckling to himself.

They looked around the great hall where lava-red and ash-white drapes hung from the ceiling and rested near the great columns. The throne chair itself was free to rotate 360 degrees. Mounted on each of the walls were large, flat viewers, each crafted from glass as thin as a newly formed sheet of ice with a surface as hard as cut diamonds. Inside were tiny follicles of rolled glass the width of a hair that carried the light signals to the viewer’s panel.

“Time to be going. I’m to speak with the other recruits and then with King Amerstall,” Vetus Sepher said. He put his hand on Petro’s shoulder once more. “This is your golden hour, Petro.”

Petro stared off to nowhere for a moment. He broke out of thought and faced Vetus Sepher. “Even if I go, when I’m of age, I’ll return to Dugual.” Petro shifted his stance. “I mean it, too. I want to ensure the people I care about are protected.”

Vetus Sepher patted Petro’s shoulder. “We all think we’ll return home. It’s admirable. You are about to embark on a journey, one that is of your choosing. When you are of age or finish your five years, it will be your time to decide,” Vetus Sepher said. “You may return, or you may not.” He removed his hand, put his arms next to his sides, and gave a slight bow. “Until the morn,” he said.

“Good day, sir,” Petro said. He bowed and left the hall. Vetus Sepher could hear his footsteps grow faint, and he wondered if Petro would come back, or if he would soon understand his place in the world and take a different path.

Wine is a flavorful drink that many a savor, but is it the wine or the contents within the wine that aid the palate to either reject or deny its flavor? Is it the native yeast, which feeds on the sugars in the wine? Is it the time the wine spends in an oak barrel, drawing its flavor from a tree? How should wine taste? Like a tree or like a grape? Wine should taste of the grapes from which it is made, not the tree wherein it was settled to age. Agree or not—this is the Chef’s Opinion.

—From
The Chef’s Opinion
, by the Fragrant

K
ing Amerstall waded into the spring-fed pool, taking in its warmth. The turquoise water reflected light that radiated outward onto the stone walls and arched ceiling. The cavern was a natural formation fortified with beams; it was dug out in some areas, but others were left as they were before. Ripples moved across the pool with each step taken, causing the reflected light to dance on the walls and ceiling. His reddish hair and beard were prominent, and his body was strong for one in his forties.

“Come join me,” King Amerstall said. His voice boomed across the cavern. “It’s time to relax, do away with formalities, and talk as men, not to mention hide away from all the activity in the castle. I can’t go two meters without someone saying, ‘Your Grace’ or ‘Your Majesty.’ I know who I am.” The edges of his mouth turned up.

The air was humid from warm steam coming up off the turquoise waters, as though spirits were rising.

Vetus Sepher nodded and proceeded to get undressed. A servant boy took his clothing as he removed each article. The boy averted his eyes from Vetus Sepher’s nude body. “It’s OK, boy; I’m a man just like you.” Vetus Sepher was a fit man, strong and hardened from exposure to the outside. His skin was bronzed, his eyes gray, and his hair black and thick.

The boy handed him his swimsuit, its fabric sleek to the touch. Vetus Sepher ran his finger over it and thought this came from the Kingdom of Aiyl; they produced some of the finest fabrics and had combined their techniques with new technological advances. Noticing the boy was still averting his eyes, he quickly put it on. “Thank you,” he said and placed a coin in his hand.

“Thank you, sir,” the servant boy said and left.

Vetus Sepher advanced into the water, taking a short set of stairs, until he found the bottom, waist deep. He moved toward King Amerstall.

“This water heals the body. It’s a natural spring. Quite warm, too. It helps to loosen the muscles,” King Amerstall said, making his way to a small circle of carved-stone seats off to the side where refreshments waited. “The man’s cave under the castle. Has a good ring to it, doesn’t it?” He took a drink from his cup filled with wine.

Vetus Sepher chuckled. He looked out into the pool of water, watching the lights dance with the shadows on the walls.

“Some time ago, long before you or I were making our mothers’ lives hell, my forefathers worked on this cavern, carving it out and making changes to it over many seasons. I suspect they were no different than I am today, using it to get away from the queens.” King Amerstall grinned.

“I’m sure if she wanted, she could find you down here,” Vetus Sepher said. He took a seat near the king, the water coming up to his chest.

“You are a cruel man to suggest such a thing. I should have you taken outside and flogged for such treachery.” King Amerstall laughed hard, loud, and long. “Ah, the waters feel good this evening. Did you know they have concentrated amounts of calcium, iron, and magnesium, as well as trace elements like iodine, manganese, and selenium? All these are beneficial to the body, helping to reduce pain like that of my aching back. I swear, I got my mother’s back and my father’s might—the two don’t often go together, you know,” King Amerstall said. He reached over, took a glass of red-fruit wine, and took a drink. “Ah…that is wonderful. Loosen up, Numa; have one. Or does your order prevent you from indulging in the finer things of life?”

Vetus Sepher nodded to King Amerstall. He picked up a glass of wine and drank it down until it was completely gone. “No, I rather like the taste of wine.”

The king’s eyes glistened. “That wine has matured for nearly two hundred seasons. No one has tasted its pleasurable flavors, taken in its immeasurable scent, or drunk of it until now. And, Numa, you have a lot to learn about the finer things in life. This is no ordinary wine. It is as precious as your first courtship date with your future wife,” King Amerstall said. “Take it slow, Numa.” He took another drink and chuckled to himself. “Ah…well, it may not be that precious, but it is still a fine wine.”

Vetus Sepher laughed as the servant poured him more.

“Drink, Numa; the night is…well…the night is here, and so are we,” King Amerstall said.

Vetus Sepher took up his glass, and the two clinked them together and drank. This time Vetus Sepher took his time, letting the flavors pass over his tongue, reading their district signatures with his taste buds.

King Amerstall took pieces of meat and cheese, along with a few grapes, and ate them slowly. He drank more and then swallowed what was in his mouth. “So tell me, how did Petro stand up? Next to the others, I mean,” he asked. He had the look of a father waiting to hear good news to be proud of.

“You mean his testing?” Vetus Sepher said.

King Amerstall chewed on another combination of delicacies, drinking his wine and nodding all nearly at the same time.

“They were interesting—far more than some other candidates we’ve seen.” Vetus Sepher’s mouth turned down at the corners, and he shrugged.

King Amerstall swallowed. “Interesting. I guess that means he did well. My wife was also wondering how you Numas came to your decision to accept Petro into your order. It took you a while to get around to it, seeing as he was not selected for this year’s recruits until two months ago.”

King Amerstall paused a moment; ripples formed on top of the water while Vetus Sepher ran his hand back and forth in the warm pool.

“But that doesn’t really matter. I know the reason for it. We know there is concern about the Father—and his next move.” King Amerstall’s face went dark for a moment, but then it returned back to its original state.

Vetus Sepher could sense King Amerstall had a lot on his mind, probably dealing with the current situation of King Offing.

King Amerstall cleared his throat. “I know this will be hard for Petro, not to mention on me, since my wife is upset. Not that she is complaining openly to me; I just feel it—as though I’ve done something wrong again.” His laughter returned and carried through the cavern. “I know her discomfort has more to do with you than me, but I’m the one to endure it, and I will. I think Petro needs a change; it will do him good to go off and see the world and have experiences he cannot have here,” he said.

Vetus Sepher admired King Amerstall. He seemed a good man, even if he did not follow their ways. Surely God had a means for all His people, regardless of where they stood.

“So…you say that the queen is displeased?” Vetus Sepher said.

“Well, it’s more like this—she doesn’t want him to go. I know that. I can feel it. And neither do I want Petro to go. But I know he must. He is coming closer to age, which means he’ll be a man of his own. He needs a journey, and so why not this one? It’s good timing, and it will test him.” King Amerstall splashed water on his face. His beard glistened, and the red in it showed even more.

Yes, it will test him.
Petro will undergo things that a normal man would break under. If he’s an ordinary man, we’ll find out.
Vetus Sepher swirled his wine about by moving the glass in tight concentric circles.

“Yes, I know what you mean. Tokus Numas is a place for young men to become their own. It was my journey. He’ll learn our ways, and we’ll show him how things are and let him grow,” Vetus Sepher said. He paused and pondered. “I can see that perhaps Petro could be somewhat of a distraction, since you have your own children to tend to.”

King Amerstall turned to his side, stretching, and then to the other side, stretching. “Distraction…well, I wouldn’t go that far. I prefer to be direct, and so here it is. There is something strange about him. I don’t know what, but there is something there in his manners at times, his way of thinking, his words, and his eyes, too,” he said.

Vetus Sepher finished his wine. He poured himself a new one, not waiting for the servant boy to come around. He savored it more, taking a sip and placing it back down. “Really? What sort of strangeness have you seen?”

King Amerstall reached for a nearby towel. He wiped his face, and the servant boy quickly appeared and took the towel. “Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I haven’t seen anything strange; it’s just how he is. I cannot put my finger on it. It’s not like you’ll pick it up instantly by being around him. It took me seasons to sense it, and yet I cannot tell you what it is. Oh, he’s a strong lad, and clever, too; and he knows his manners most of the time. Sometimes it feels like he’s waiting. I don’t know why I said that; it just sort of came to my mind. Odd, isn’t it?”

Vetus Sepher’s head felt fuzzy and his lips numb. He blinked several times to clear his vision.

King Amerstall noticed and grinned. “That’s the wine. It’s got an aftereffect on the body and the mind. It’s unlike many other wines. It’s the higher concentration of alcohol, but I believe it also has to do with the mineral content in the soil where the grapes are grown.” King Amerstall chortled.

Vetus Sepher thought about what Queen Lilith had said about the man who touched her belly before he leaped out their window; maybe His Majesty knew something as well. “Has the queen mentioned anything strange about Petro to you?”

King Amerstall’s eyes lit up. “Oh, she told you about some dark man being in Petro’s room on his first-name day, did she? Yes, we’d celebrated his first-name day with a feast in his honor—a small one, of course, with mainly the family and servants.” He belched. “The day passed into night, and on the eve, a wind roared from the west and crashed into my city like a vortex, sending cows up and over fences, leaving them dead from the impact, knocking roofs off buildings, and injuring some of my people. Thank goodness it did not last long, or it would have torn our city apart. The strange thing was that there was no buildup storm before or after it was gone. It was as though it descended from above, dropping out of the sky, and then back up it went.” King Amerstall’s eyes were wide, and his palms faced upward.

Vetus Sepher raised one eyebrow, nodded, and took another drink. “Yes, yes. That is strange indeed.”

King Amerstall sat back in his chair, and the water rippled around his upper body. “I find it uncanny. A tall, dark figure in the middle of the night flees my castle, and then a vexing storm cuts through my city. I don’t discount my eyes, Numa, or my ability to reason. I don’t believe in any gods, but I know strange things do happen that cannot be accounted for, and this was one of them,” King Amerstall said. “And strange things often come from men. Was it coincidence? Or would the Numas call it supernatural?”

Vetus Sepher could see the event had upset him.

“For those who believe, all will be revealed, and for those who do not—they will be cast into shadows.” Vetus Sepher mused over the words as he took another drink.

King Amerstall’s face lit up. “Hmm…interesting saying. I don’t see myself as being cast into shadows, and I’m inclined to think whoever wrote those words might have drunk too much of this wine.” King Amerstall stretched and yawned.

Vetus Sepher knew it was getting late, and the morning would come quick.

“Drink up; eat some more,” said the king. “I’m tired and must be done for the night. I wish you a safe journey. I know you depart with Petro immediately after the ceremony.”

Vetus Sepher put down his glass of wine and straightened himself. “It is better that way, to not allow the young men to think about the morrow. Having them go directly into the journey quells their fears,” Vetus Sepher said, picking his wine up and finishing it.

“My God, man—if there is a God—you’ve drunk your fill this night.” King Amerstall laughed loudly. “It’s good wine, isn’t it?”

“Yes, indeed, it is a very good wine,” Vetus Sepher said, blissful.

“This will be good for Petro,” King Amerstall said. He got up, and water trickled from his skin and splattered over the top of the pool. Up the stairs he went, nude, not the least bit self-conscious. The servant boy wrapped King Amerstall’s waist with a large towel.

Vetus Sepher ran his hands over the water, feeling its warm touch lap at his fingers.

“The Numas hide things from us and take us as fools, but we are not fools. You seem to be a fair-minded man; don’t let certain ideas cloud your judgment,” King Amerstall said.

He was right. They were hiding something, and Vetus Sepher felt it would be better now to tell him about Petro and their prophecy. He had to be cautious with King Amerstall; he was not a man of faith, and knowing this could make him change his mind about letting Petro go. He gave pause, doubting his reasons and wondering if it was the wine talking. Maybe it would be best to say nothing until they knew for certain about Petro.

The water stirred as Vetus Sepher got up. He waded through the waters to the stairs, taking them slowly to keep his balance. “I do not believe you a fool.” The dripping water ran in streaks down his legs and arms and hit the stone floor. It was on the tip of his tongue. He needed to say something to earn his trust at least. If reports were correct, the Father was seeking out Keepers to obtain the Numas’ sacred knowledge. “Your Majesty, I need to confide in you,” Vetus Sepher said.