Shel spent the day unloading goods for Neal’s grandmother at the tavern. She received dry good shipments every few weeks, and Neal always drafted him to help carry the goods from the wagon into the tavern. The work was hard and the tavern was closed for most of the day while they loaded the goods into the cellar beneath the Pretty Beak tavern. Shel walked across the alleyway that led to his house. Neal’s grandmother had fed him and Neal after they had finished unloading the last case of alcohol from the wagons, and while Shel was tired, it was a good tiredness, a tiredness arising from a hard day’s work resulting in a few coins jingling in his trousers’ pockets.

When Shel arrived at his door, he heard voices whispering. He tried to hear what they were saying, recognizing Audrel and Samuel’s voices, but he could not make out the words. When he opened the door, he found Samuel and Audrel standing near the stove looking at Shel expectantly.

“You know better than to eavesdrop,” Samuel said. “We raised you better than that, Shel.” Unlike Audrel, Samuel never disciplined Shel with anything except a look of disappointment, which ranged from mild to extreme. Today, however, he did not look disappointed, at least not disappointed in Shel. He looked disappointed in himself, as if the comment was not made to Shel but to himself. Samuel was as hard on himself as he was on Shel. He expected great things from his grandson, but he also expected great things from himself, and he seemed on a constant and failing quest to improve himself at every opportunity. Shel would rather Samuel be disappointed in Shel than disappointed in himself.

“I didn’t want to interrupt anything,” Shel said. Over the last couple of weeks, Samuel and Audrel had seemed at odds over something. As was their way, they never seemed to argue, but there was a definite tension in the air, which was impossible to miss because of the tiny room the three of them shared each night. While they discussed mundane things when Shel was around, he was sure they were discussing something else when he left. He had caught them both looking at him time and again, and when he questioned them, they changed the subject or denied any such thing, claiming it was only his imagination, and he should finish cleaning the night’s dishes or the week’s laundry if he had so much extra time for idle thoughts.

“Well, you missed dinner,” Samuel said. “We have some left over stew if you like. It’s not hot, but it should still be good.”

“No thanks. Neal’s grandmother gave us food after we finished moving everything to her cellar.”

“I’ll save the stew for you tomorrow. We should probably clean up and get ready for bed.”

“We have to do this,” Audrel said quietly, her words directed at Samuel, but her eyes watching Shel.

“He’s here now,” Samuel said. “Let’s continue this discussion later. There’s no reason to bring him into this.” Samuel turned and tended to the fire, which was glowing lightly in the stove. Shel did not think the fire needed much in the way of tending, but Samuel used the fireplace tool to move the wood around in the stove.

“What doesn’t concern me,” Shel asked, closing the door behind him. Audrel should have been at work. After Neal and he had eaten, he found a large crowd in the Pretty Beak tavern. Since the rain broke two weeks before, the people started drinking earlier and more often. Something had fallen over the town since the rain stopped falling. The town always slowed down during the rainy season, but this time, it seemed the rainy season had not stopped and for whatever reason, they were still stuck in the rut that the rain caused. With the rain ending, the number of orphans in Varis had increased. The number of confrontations between the governors’ guards and the orphans had increased as their numbers grew. It seemed the entire city was holding its breath to see what the governors decided to do.

“We’ll tell you a minute,” Audrel said and turned to Samuel. “It’s time we find out. And we can’t do that if he’s not here.”

“It’s better if we don’t. This is craziness—just like you leaving. Is that what you want? The same for your boy? How many times have you told me about the mistakes you made, about how you would do it all differently if you had the choice. Well, now you have the choice. Listen to me, Audrel. Please. For the boy’s sake.”

“What are you talking about,” Shel asked. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, let them talk and forget he was in the room, but he could not keep his mouth shut. Whatever they were talking about now was the same thing they had been talking about over the last few weeks, and Shel was sick of being treated like a child and not knowing. He would find out now

“It’s too dangerous. You don’t understand, father. If he is what I think he is, it’s not safe for him to be here. This town is getting crowded, and I don’t like the people that are moving in. The Empress’s soldier has stayed in Varis for too long. Have you ever known him to stay for more than a day or two? He’s seen everyone who has any type of petition, he’s met with the governors, and yet he stays on. He’s looking for something, and I want to make sure that it’s not what I think it is.”

Shel knew they were being cryptic. He had never heard his mother talk about the Empress’s soldier except to warn him to stay away from him. He half expected her to talk about the church and the governors’ circle next. She had strange concerns for the family of a tavern wench.

“I do understand. I don’t care how dangerous it is not to know, it’s even more dangerous to know. Go get yourself another drink and we’ll talk about it later. I have cleaning to do, and Shel looks exhausted. We should get him into bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Shel whispered. He stood with his back against the door watching Audrel and Samuel. He tried to disappear into the door. He knew if he listened only a little longer, he might understand what they were talking about. All they cryptic clues that had been throwing around, he would be able to put them together and figure it all out.

“I don’t want a drink, and you don’t understand the danger. You weren’t there, you never saw what happened in the Church.”

“Again with the Church. It’s bad enough you left me for the Church. Now you threaten to take the boy away because of the Church as well.” Shel had never seen Samuel so animated. He was always low key, nothing ever seemed to phase him. He seemed to be the world’s servant, waiting for whatever it desired, and serving it up to it, but never intruding upon its workings, or the workings in the home. At least not until now. Samuel was animated and passionate, and Shel was scared. What could have brought this out in him, especially in his discussions with Audrel.

“You know it wasn’t the Church I followed,” Audrel said quietly, her eyes distant, and her voice soft and cracking. She sounded as if she was remembering something painful.

“I know that. You followed him!” Samuel screamed. Shel lowered himself against the door until he sat on the floor. He wrapped his arms around his knees and tried to make himself as small as possible. His mother had something to do with the Church. How was that possible? She hated everything to do with the Church. They were yelling at each other. Shel had never heard them raise their voices, not even when they were disciplining him. Something was going on and he did not understand what it was.

“It’s not about him anymore, father. It’s about Shel now.” The both looked at Shel. “We need to know. We need to know now. It’s too dangerous for us not to.”

“I’ll have no part in this, daughter.”

Audrel nodded, and Samuel walked to the door. He waited until Shel scurried out of the way of the door before storming out of the house. Audrel stared at the door when it closed behind Samuel.

“Shel, I need to know something. I want you to come over here.” Shel was on the floor next to the closed door. He looked up at Audrel, suddenly afraid of what she wanted to know. Shel was not sure her to know whatever she wanted to know. If it scared Samuel, perhaps it was best if they did not find out.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Maybe you should talk it over with Samuel some more. He seemed awfully worried.”

Audrel ignored Shel’s pleas and went over to the chest. She removed the canvas sheet and revealed the wood carved chest. Audrel ran her hand over the symbols on the top of the chest. Audrel sounded like she was muttering something. After a few minutes, Shel realized that she was not muttering but humming a tuneless song. She stared down at the symbols as she traced them with her finger and looked lost in thought.

“What are you thinking?” Shel asked, trying to break Audrel’s strange tune, which threatened to completely unnerve him and send him out to chase back Samuel.

“About when your father gave me this chest,” Audrel said. Shel swallowed hard. This was the first time Audrel had ever mentioned his father except to remind Shel that he was not to think or talk about him. His father had given this expensive chest to Audrel. Why would he do that and where did he get it from? He must have been a nobleman. Where else could he have gotten the money to buy such an expensive-looking chest.

Shel remained silent, hoping his mother would continue her reverie. But she did not. She took the iron lock in her hand and tugged it. It did not come off. She tugged it again, harder this time, and the chest moved across the floor, but the lock did not come off of the chest.

“Shel, I want you to come here and hold this lock.”

Shel stood up and walked toward the chest. As he did, he felt the familiar warmth and weight emanating from the chest. He had gotten used to the feel of energy whenever he was in the house, and he had forgotten what it felt like to be in the house without feeling the energy. Shel moved slowly toward the chest. His reluctance only partly because he was afraid of finding out whatever Audrel was trying to determine. He was afraid of disappointing her, failing in whatever test she was planning to give.

“Shel, don’t dawdle. Come here now.”

Shel took in a deep breath and exhaled it quickly before stepping toward his mother. She was holding up the lock, and when Shel was close, she placed the lock in his hand. The iron lock was cold, colder than it should have been in the warm room. When he felt the weight of the lock, he realized that it was not a solid piece of iron, but mostly hollow on the inside. He weighed it on his hand, lifting and letting it fall in his palm.

“Well, what do you feel?” Audrel asked. She looked at him as if she expected him to feel something.

“It’s a lock,” Shel said. He was confused. He felt he had already failed whatever test Audrel had set out for him.

Audrel smiled. “I know it’s a lock, Shel. I’m not very good at this. I’ve seen many people do this or try to describe it to me, but I haven’t . . . I can’t do this. The question is whether you can do this.”

Words remaining: 17, 519

Word count: 2,023

Feeling: Holy bad melodrama, batman. I had plans to write a different scene, but my writing energy is at an all-time low. I didn’t get off my butt to start until after 9pm. I’m waiting for that third wind to set in. It’s keeping its distance, as if it knows something it doesn’t want to tell me.