Shel kept a close watch for the Empress’s soldier as he walked toward the edge of the Central Square. What was the Empress’s soldier doing chasing down the children? It could not have anything to do with his chocolate bun. That much chocolate was almost worth its weight in gold, but gold meant little to the Empress. It had to be something else. It was ridiculous for him to have run away. He should have stayed, at the least to be with Neal. Neal was not good under pressure, and without Shel there to help him through his more anxious moments, he was not sure he would be okay if the Empress’s soldier or his men interrogated him.

Shel’s bare feet crunched the smooth stone underfoot. As he approached the edge of the stalls, he thought of going back, explaining to the Empress’s man that he had not meant to run away, but that it had been a difficult day. He had run into Peula in the morning, and with Neal’s warnings, he had begun seeing her as perhaps something more than just a harmless woman. And then he happened upon Tommy and her littlelings, and he knew better than most that they were dangerous. And then the chocolate bun appeared, and the children attacked him. These were well-bred children, and it was almost as if they had never seen chocolate before. Well, perhaps they hadn’t. Few if any of even the wealthiest children had chocolate during any time of the year besides Nunial. It really was worth its weight in gold.

But even as the excuses shot through his mind, he knew better than to return. Children from the Builders District did not do well explaining to guards their comings and goings. The guards were suspicious of most children, but particularly the orphans that had overrun Varis since the end of the wars. Besides the guards keeping peace, most of the men had been called out of town to march in the Great War the Empress had promised once the nations had been united. There was little word from the Great War. During the wars, first the nation’s runners and then the Empress’s runners would pass through town each season to give reports from the front, describing the movements of the armies, and whatever the runners felt was appropriate to let the people know. The announcements would be given from the Central Square, and while most children were not allowed to attend the pronouncement, word spread quickly of what was said.

Shel passed over the border into the Builders District and looked behind him to check to see if anyone followed. It was unlikely that even that many soldiers, it would have been impossible to catch all the children in the Central Square. And even if they could, they could not have spread out to cover the other districts. Since the great wars, the number of children seemed to double each year in Varis. And the children were not just in the Builders District, all the districts seem to be overrun with more children. There were rumors that the children were escaping the great wars, that they were leaving their homes and heading into Varis. Few had families, and when they arrived in Varis, they were picked up by the gangs within the different parts of town.

There were many children in the streets as Shel walked through the Builders District. He thought to avoid them, ducking into the alley as he and Neal had done while heading to the Central District, but Shel was sick of running away. He was sick of avoiding conflict, and he felt that it made little difference if the littlelings or Tommy or any of the other gangs of children running rampant in the streets found him this day. He would take what they had to offer and leave it at that. There was only so much running he could do in one day, and he still felt a bit wheezy from the bun and the beating.

An overloaded wagon passed in front of him as he began crossing a mud-covered street. He yanked himself back against a wooden house before the carriage’s driver could whip him. He cursed as the wagon moved on, and when the driver pulled up his horses to respond, Shel thought it was best to move along. There was being wise and then there was being stupid. The wagon drivers were burly men who spent their days loading and unloading large casks of goods. Even the smallest of them could handle the likes of Shel Beasley.

When Shel drew near to Peula’s house, he saw her rocking on her wooden porch. Her head scanned the crowd, and she rubbed her chin, which was now covered in ink. Her head was covered with a helmet of white hair, which Shel could not understand how it stayed up. She wore the same gray wool dress she wore ever time he saw her, and wore large furry boots on her feet, which made her skinny legs look thinner poking out from them.

Peula stood up and waved in Shel’s direction, and Shel, thinking she was waving at him, raised his arm, before seeing a woman in a thick black robe with a golden staff approaching her house. She was one of the Church’s missionaries, who passed through Varis every few years. The governors allowed them to preach about their gods in the outer districts, but forbid them passage through the Central District, which made it difficult for them to visit more than a fifth of the districts in Varis. It was well known that the Empress did not approve of the Church, but it seemed it was beyond even her vast powers to put a complete stop to them.

The missionaries always traveled in groups, and behind the robed woman was a fully armored man with a naked curved sword on his back. Blazoned upon his steel-clad chest was a seared black triangle with the peak on top, and a small star growing out of the peak. It was the symbol of the Church, and all of its soldiers wore its standard. As the priest passed, Shel saw that she wore the symbol on an iron chain around her neck. Following the armored soldier were two men who wore chain coats with the starred triangle worked into the chain over the left side of their chests. They each carried large halberds with small daggers hanging bear on their wide leather belts.

Shel watched as the priest made his way toward Peula’s house. The armored man followed the priest, and his two soldiers trailed a few feet behind. Peula waited on the top of the porch, holding onto the back of her chair with one arm and waving with the other. Her face was split by a smile, and her wave changed to a come here motion. When she saw the priest approaching, she picked up the scroll and held it out for the priest to see. The priest held her black robes off the ground as she walked, in an attempt to avoid getting mud on them. It was futile in the weather, as each step splashed water and mud on the bottom of her robes, and the wagons and people walking around them didn’t spare them additional dirt.

Many armored and armed people walked through the streets, and while the appearance of Church soldiers did cause stares, it was nothing out of the ordinary. When Shel looked around, however, he noticed more than the usual number of the governor’s soldiers in the area. They appeared to be walking their normal rounds, but it was apparent to Shel, who made a special point to watch the soldiers, in case they were appearing belligerent that day, that they were paying special attention to the area around where the Church’s soldiers were. It made sense to Shel. The Empress did not approve of the Church, and with the Empress’s soldier in Varis, the last thing the governors wanted was a run in between the Church and the Empress’s soldier. It took little for a full battalion of the Empress’s army to descend upon a town that seemed unlawful, and the town was always left worse for the visit.

The priest made her way up Peula’s stairs, and when she arrived at the wooden porch, she held out her iron chain toward Peula. Peula slowly bent down to one knee, almost falling as she lowered herself, and leaned her head out to kiss the iron chain. The priest placed her hand over the white haystack that made up Peula’s head and said something that Shel could not hear. As she finished, the armored man arrived at the top of the porch. He held the door open for the Priest, who walked into Peula’s house followed by Peula. The armored man entered the house and closed the door behind them. The two guards stood at the bottom of Peula’s stairs, their halberds held to their outside and at an angle. Their heads moved in a constant scanning motion as they checked the people around them. The people and wagons seemed to move a bit further into the street to avoid entering the space created by the guard’s probing eyes. The governor’s guardsmen took up positions along the road, grouped in threes, they watched the Church’s guards and Peula’s houses. Shel counted five different groups, as each group measured and nodded to the other. They made not move to get closer to the Church’s guards or the house, seeming satisfied to remain where they were to watch.

Shel had not heard of Peula’s association with the Church. This was not the first time he had seen a priest visit the home of an old person. The Church seemed drawn to these houses, or maybe it was the old people that were drawn to the Church. Shel had never listened to any of the sermons the missionaries had given. Audrel was very particular on this point. She had nothing but venom for her discussions of the church. Like most things, Samuel was quiet during the discussions of the Church, but in private with Shel, he seemed to hate the Church even more than Audrel. Samuel confided in Shel late one night, while Audrel still worked, that the Church had its way with the young and the old. The old, he said, believed the church could extend their lives, and some were willing to do anything for just a few more days on this dreadful place. The young were even worse. The Church promised a way out of their situation, a way to make it in the world. Their promises were empty, he had assured Shel, and their gods did not exist. Any person who ran away with them ended up worse for the experience and usually returned a broken person. Shel wondered who he meant by that, but did not press him. When Samuel got into these moods, it was impossible to engage him in conversation. He would say what he wanted, but only what he wanted. It was best to remain quiet and listen, and hope he wanted to continue to talk. That night, that was all he wanted to discuss, and he had never mentioned the church again.

Shel felt an overwhelming desire to know more about the Church, and what Peula was doing with her scroll with his name written on it. He walked down the alley he had been watching from, and toward the back street that curved around the rear door to Peula’s house. Most people avoided the back streets in the residential areas of the Builders District. It was on these streets that the residents tossed their garbage into piles. Once a week, weather permitting, a city official would walk down the street and light fire to the garbage piles. During the rainy season, it was sometimes weeks between the lighting of the garbage piles. The orphans would scavenge through the piles for edible items or things that he could sell. Between the orphans and the stray animals, by the time the piles were lit on fire, there was little valuable or edible left. For this reason, most people avoided the back roads.

The mud was thicker along the back street because it was not as heavily used. Shel took large steps, trying to quiet the sucking noise as he lifted each foot from the mud as he approached the back of Peula’s house. Unlike the front, the back of the house consisted of a single window and a half door. Peula used the door to toss the garbage onto the street. Shel knew there was another door on the side of the street that led to the outhouse. After ensuring that there was nobody around, he edged his way closer to the door. When he put his ear to the door, he made out the voices of a man and a woman. It took him a few moments to figure out what they were saying.

“The watching, tell us about it,” the man said. He had a gruff voice and when he spoke, it sounded like he was used to people obeying. The sounds were not as muffled as Shel expected, as if they were in the next room instead of the front room.

“It’s all in the scroll,” Peula said. “I recorded everything I could about the children in the Builders District. There are so many, and it is hard to learn all of their names. There are so many orphans, and there are more coming every day. What you’ve asked of me is almost impossible.” Peula’s voice broke and he heard her sniffle loudly.

“You know the bargain. If you cannot handle your end of the deal, then we can end it now. We do not care about orphans. We are only interested in the child. Now, you know there are others in the Builders District who would love the opportunity we gave you.”

“No, that is not it. In the chest are the rest of the scrolls. Take them all.”

“And the child? Tell us what you have learned.”

“They don’t keep birth records in town. I try to get them from the children, but to an old person such as myself, it’s hard to get them to talk to me. At least twenty children are of age and are not orphans. It can be one of them, but I don’t know.”

Word count: 2,425

Words remaining: 38,563

Caffeination: Mocha from Banana Bread (also known as Panera Bread) in Newport Beach.

Feeling: The words are coming easier if not better. I’m more accepting of this first draft thing: making things happen, and then research and rewrite later. For example, the descriptions are time-consuming and difficult to do well. I throw out a few to get me started, but I know that I’ll have to go back and redo them if I ever hope to “finish” this story. I also throw out random ideas in paragraphs to see how they fit, and to see if the ideas will further the story. I’m still searching for the best way to do this. Today, I’m testing out the finish in the middle of the scene so I can jump right back in tomorrow (okay, truth be told, I got tired before I finished telling the story). I still hate the writing, but at least I’m getting the scenes out. I have a few more scenes to finish before I have to start thinking up new ones. I’m not looking forward to that.