As Shel approached the chest, he felt the weight growing heavier on his back and neck. Samuel stood near the door, his hand reaching out to open it, but he looked reluctant, as if he could not decide between running and his need to know the truth about whatever it was he had been discussing with Audrel. Shel did not know what they were seeking or what truth they were discussing, but he knew it involved him and the chest in some way. Shel wished Samuel left. He also wished Audrel would leave. For a reason he could not explain, he felt this was a private matter and whatever he found, he thought it best he find it without anyone watching, that is, if he knew what it was he was looking for.

“Why are you hesitating?” Audrel asked. She also looked like she was frozen in motion, her hands looked ready to reach out toward Shel, but she resisted, stuck in a limbo between knowing and not knowing. “It won’t hurt you, the chest. It was given to me before you were born. You don’t have to worry about what is inside it. Nothing will hurt you. It’s the chest itself that you need to experience, need to feel.” Audrel overcame her resistance and walked over to Shel. She took his face between her hands. “Do you feel something, Shel? It’s very important that you tell me the truth.”

Shel shook his head until Audrel let her hands fall to her sides. He approached the chest and let his hand run over the wooden top of the chest.

“Let him be, Audrel. You’ve seen enough. I’ve seen enough.” Shel did not bother to look back at Samuel. He knew he still stood near the door, stuck between opening the door and leaving or staying and witnessing whatever it was would happen when Shel approached the chest.

Audrel ignored Samuel, and Shel ignored them both. The tension that had been building over the last few weeks, the first tension Shel had ever felt inside his house seemed poised for release. The choice had been made and he even heard Samuel grunt as if to acknowledge that it was out of his hand. His arguing was for done, and whatever happened this day, the issue would never be raised again. Audrel had gotten her way like she had gotten her way with all her decisions through her life. Shel had never thought of Samuel as weak before, but now he saw all of Audrel’s decisions lined up in front of Samuel, and him pushing against each decision as the leaf pushes against the current.

“The lock, Shel. Concentrate on the lock and tell me what you feel. Do you feel something?”

Shel continued to run his hands over the glyphs on the top of the chest. “What language is this? What does this say?” he asked, his fingers tracing the ridges between each glyph and symbol.

“It’s an ancient language used by the Church. They call it Sanserit. The priests use it in what they do, in their prayers.”

“Why do you have this? Who gave it to you?” Shel knew that once he told her what he felt, he might lose any leverage he had over her, over the truth. He left his hand on the chest and turned to face Audrel. Audrel’s brown eyes were wide, but she did not look surprised. She seemed to be appraising Shel, and Shel did not bother to wonder how he came out in her assessment. The chest should tell him something about Audrel, but more importantly it would tell him something about his father and where he came from. Shel was sure the two truths were interweaved.

“It’s a weapons chest, Shel. The runes and lock protect the weapons inside the chest. The wood is a thick, old growth wood, and the lock is sturdy, the best of its kind. But it’s the priest’s magic that protects what’s in the chest. The lock is more than it appears. It opens only to my hand and requires no key. I’ve heard the feeling described as a weight. Do you feel a weight when you draw near to the chest?”

Shel pushed forward. “Why do you have a weapon’s chest, Audrel? Why do you have weapons? Why would a barmaid have a chest full of weapons?”

“I never said what was inside the chest, Shel. I only said it was designed to hold weapons. We can talk about this later. I need . . . we need to know what you feel when you’re near the chest.”

Why would Audrel have need of weapons? Shel could not begin to imagine why she would have dealings with the Church. It did not matter now. He knew he would get nothing more out of her. Her lips were closed in a tight line that she used when she ws not going to change her mind or reveal anything else. Her lips said stubbornness when locked in that look.

“It is a weight,” Shel said as he lifted the lock in his hand. The lock lifted easily, but the weight on his body increased until he felt as if he was about to fall over. He refused to show weakness in front of Audrel or Samuel. “Every time I get near the chest, I feel the weight on my body, as if I wear a yoke over my back and neck. It bears me down and gets worse when I’m near the chest. Now, I told you what I felt, now you tell me, what does it mean?”

Audrel exchanged a glance with Samuel. Samuel let go of the door and walked toward Shel. Shel could not read the expression on his face, unsure if he looked ready to comfort Shel or do something else, like slap or attack him. Shel felt like a wild animal, and Samuel looked as if he was seeing him for the first time. Audrel stood next to Shel but did not make a move to touch him. She was nodding her head slowly, a gesture of what she was thinking, which was rare in her usually utterly controlled expressions. Shel realized that she probably didn’t even know she was doing it.

“He can’t stay here,” Samuel said. It’s too dangerous. What if they get to him? The Church, the Empress?” Samuel took the step he had prepared toward Shel and Audrel. “The father, who was he? You must tell me now, Audrel.”

“He is safe with me. Shel, you have the gift. I can help you harness it. I’ve already begun helping you with the disciplines we practice each day. These same disciplines apply to weapons and sorcery.”

Shel did not understand what Audrel was talking about. Was she to teach him weaponry? He doubted Audrel knew much about the swords like the governors’ guardsmen carried around. These were not lessons taught to barmaids. Shel had often dreamed of joining the guardsmen, of learning their way with the ways of battle. He had play fought Neal enough times when they daydreamed together about escaping the small world of Varis where he lived. “You will teach me to wield a sword?” Shel said, unsure of how he made the connection.

“No. That learning would be wasted on you. There are other things I will teach you.”

“Wasted on me? You have the knowledge to make me a warrior, and you think it would be wasted on me?” Audrel’s face had taken on the expression she used when teaching Shel a particularly difficult aspect of a discipline. What would she know of teaching him about war? Shel still held the lock, the weight on his back and neck a constant heaviness that he fought each moment, trying to keep his back straight against its pull until he was not sure he could bear it anymore. He looked from Audrel to Samuel and back. They knew nothing of Shel, and they knew nothing of how he felt, or what Audrel was talking about.

Shel dropped the lock, and it made a loud bang against the chest, louder than he would have supposed metal would make against wood. He tried to push Audrel away from him, but he might have tried to push a tree off its roots. Audrel stood there with both of Shel’s hands planted on her torso. He was bent over and pushing. He cut off a yell and ran past her. He felt Audrel’s hand try to grab him, but he jumped over the sleeping mat and ran toward Samuel and the door. Samuel stepped to the side, allowing Shel to run past.

“Grab him,” he heard Audrel yell, but Samuel gave Shel a push and he was out the door before he could hear the rest of Audrel’s words.

Over the past three weeks, the ground had dried up, and Shel found good footing in the dirt-packed road. He sprinted passed the Pretty Beak tavern not bothering to look back to see if Audrel gave chase. He did not know where he ran, but he had to get away from Audrel and the chest. He had heard things he did not understand, and where at first he felt he wanted to know the truth, he was not sure he was ready for the truth, or could even understand the truth if he had been ready for it.

Shel dodged around wagons, and more than a few guardsmen looked concerned as they watched him run past them. None gave chase when they saw that he was not being pursued. They knew that the orphans in town ran sometimes to distract them from thefts, and if they chased after all the runners, they would never be able to catch the real thieves. With nobody chasing him, Shel knew he should be safe from a closer study by the governors’ guardsmen.

Shel did not realize where he was running until he stopped in front of Peula’s house. She sat on the porch, rocking gently on her wooden chair, a pair of knitting needles moved slowly between her gnarled fingers. She let go of one of the needles, and whatever she knitted remained where it was as if she still held the needle. She raised her hand and waived in Shel’s direction.

Shel resisted waving back, still not sure why he was here. He thought back to the last time he had seen Peula, and remembered he had visited just yesterday. He remembered the lemon drink she had given him, but he did not remember what they had spoken about or why he had visited her. As he thought back further, he remembered less of Peula and his visits. He knew only that she was a safe person to talk to, to be with, to work through his problems. She seemed to understand him in a way that Audrel and Samuel never could. The thought struck Shel as strange as he studied Peula. How could such an old woman know anything about a young boy? Her chin reached up and over her mouth, a sign that if she smiled, he would see how many teeth she was missing.

“Shel, it’s been too long,” Peula said. Her voice shook like branches in the wind. “Would you like to come up for a lemon drink? I restocked on sugar cubes. You’ve been going through them so quickly.” Peula cut off the last part quicker than he had expected, as she had realized what she was saying and realized she should not say it.

“When was I eating the sugar cubes?” Shel asked. He did not remember eating the sugar cubes yesterday. Or had he?

“Oh, sugar cubes? Nothing, nothing, my dear Shel. I was talking to myself, you know how us old people get. We sometimes forget what happened yesterday. It’s embarrassing really.” Peula cackled and Shel smiled up at her. For an old crazy woman, she sure seemed to be having fun, and that’s what Shel needed to get over what had happened with the chest, he needed someone fun to speak through his thoughts, share what he was thinking and work through what had happened with Audrel and the chest.

“I think I’ll take some of that lemon drink, if you wouldn’t mind. And, yes, those sugar cubes sound really good. If you have some, that would be wonderful with the drink.

Word Count: 2,079

Words Remaining: 13,203

Feeling: I’ve turned a corner. I now accept that the writing is terrible, the story will go no where, and the characters are pathetic and uninteresting. With all of that behind me, I can churn out words with a clear conscience, which considers only meeting the Goal and calling this done. Sure, everything about the story will be terrible and uninteresting, but at least it will be an uninteresting finished work. Every day you should try to learn a lesson. I learned mine today.