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42
"You look like shit," I said to the old Sheriff, and it was true. He looked completely exhausted, as though he could barely move. "How long have you been out here?" I placed the Lightstone chip on the coffee table and angled it so that it shone on the Sheriff's face. Then I sat beside him on the couch, close enough to hear his voice. Ghosting voices were always extremely quiet, and his exhaustion caused it to fade even more. It took special training to listen so carefully. As I sat, I instinctively reached out to shake his hand. Out of habit, he reached to return my gesture, and I felt creepy cold chills as his hand passed right through mine.
"I've been out for too long, Simon," he answered faintly. "Almost a month, I think."
"A month!" I whistled long and low in disbelief. "I'd not have thought it possible?"
He just nodded, breathing deeply.
"It's good to see you, Sheriff," I said. "What keeps you out here for so long?" As I said it, the memory of the new Sheriff at Dad's place popped into my head. Sheriff Wayne's son - I couldn't remember his name - had just died. It had happened while he was out here. I wondered if he knew. Should I tell him? I wasn't sure.
The Sheriff didn't answer me for several minutes. He just sat there with his eyes closed, taking deep, labored, pointless breaths in and out. I knew he would soon, if he didn't return of his own will, pass out and return. "There is terrible business, Simon, terrible business. I'm here because it falls to you and to me to see it done."
I did not like the sound of that. "What sort of business?"
"I cannot bear to tell you yet," he said. Only then did I notice tears on his cheeks. I wondered if they were for his son. "Just let me tell you the story, Simon. I won't be able to answer many questions, so listen closely."
"Of course," I said. "I will listen, Sheriff, and I will certainly do whatever is required of me, but I need to tell you that I'm in the middle of a job just now. I'm helping a little girl."
"This task comes from the Knight Lord himself, Simon," he said. "Just listen and judge for yourself."
"Okay," I felt anxious to return to Sam and Amy, but I sat back and leaned close to hear his story.
"Almost a year ago now, a Vital Knight arrived in Aphter. He refused to give his name, but instead insisted to his Greeters that he be taken immediately to Knight's Hall. Naturally, they called for me. Being the Sheriff, I could see that the man really was a Knight. I figured he must have important business, so I dismissed the Greeters and escorted him to Knight's Hall." He was too tired to pause and see if I was listening. He pressed on. "He refused to speak to me on the way there. Then, when we arrived, he spoke to Ramus, the Guard Captain at the front gate. 'I have a message for the Knight Lord. I speak for the Dread Lord, whom I freely serve.'"
"What?" I could not believe my ears.
"Please," the Sheriff said, barely lifting a hand.
"Sorry. Please, go ahead." I was in shock, but I was intrigued.
"That was what he said," he continued. "I thought Ramus was going to cut the man down on the spot. But, he calmed himself and called for guards to put the Traitor in chains. I know Ramus, and he knows that I am a Knight recruit, so he granted my request to accompany them, since I had heard so much already. We went with a small band of guards and brought the Traitor to the Chamber of Council. Ramus sent for the Knight Lord, telling the messenger that it was most urgent. When Inuichuk finally came in, he had ten other of the remaining Knights of the Rift in his company."
"Wow," I said. I'd never seen that many of the original Knights together in one place.
"It was an awesome sight," Wayne said, "but the prisoner showed no sign of fear or awe. He faced Lord Inuichuk and said, 'The Dread Lord says: Too long have we endured the crimes of your forbidden order. Those wrongs against your people in which we participated were righted long ago. There remains no debt owed to you. We posses nothing of your's. And yet, you refuse even to acknowledge that you keep and hide a stolen possession, a treasure of ours, whose value to us cannot be measured. We have now, after so long a time, a proof of your crimes to bring into all lights. It is in the grace of our undeserved good will and the hope of avoiding additional pain for both of us that we offer you this last chance. Return to us what is ours and save yourselves from punishment and shame.'"
"Nothing in their possession to return?" I leapt from the couch in anger. "Nothing in their possession!" I turned in rage and kicked the coffee table, throwing it into the air. In one quick movement, I pushed my sword from where it was hidden in the center of my being and, spinning as I drew it from my chest, I lashed out and struck the table in midair. Shattered splinters of cheap wood laminate and chunks of broken particle board flew across the room, toppling a lamp and knocking a few items from the desk. The Lightstone sliver flew across the room and bounced off the kitchen wall. It hit the floor and scooted away under the refrigerator. When I calmed down and opened my eyes again, I turned but I couldn't see the Sheriff. "I'm sorry," I said, and, catching my breath, I slid the blade back through the gaping hole where the buttons had been ripped from my shirt. I started to the kitchen to retrieve the Lightstone.
"No, leave it," I heard the Sheriff rasp. "My time is running out." I sat down and leaned right up to him as he continued. "I will hurry. There were angry words, and Akisha, the Rift Knight, became overwhelmed with rage. She pierced the Traitor's throat with her dark spear. He fell into death sleep, which angered Inuichuk, because they could find out no more until he awoke. That took almost three months with the healers. When he awoke, the healers handed him over to a fierce interrogator, your father."
"Dad?" I said. "Poor bastard."
"Yes," he agreed. "At David's hand the man confessed that he had been working with a Dread intruder on Earth called k'mek. He confessed also, but only after great pains, that his body was not yet asleep. He had surrendered to a Fate."
"A Knight surrendered to a Fate?" Again, I could not believe my ears.
"Yes. The Dread did not trust the human alone. When they made their plan, the Dread insisted that the Traitor surrender to the Fate, as insurance against a change of heart. The Traitor agreed."
"Why would the Fates ally themselves with the Dread?"
"We do not know this, and it makes us very concerned. We do not know for sure what they have planned for the body of the Traitor, but we suspect that they want to use him to find what is hidden. You understand, yes?"
"I do." I said.
"Good, because I do not, and they assured me that you would. Simon, Inuichuk insists that this treason cannot be allowed."
"Of course."
"Simon, I was sent with two duties. First, I was too find this Traitor. Several were sent to search over the past months, and the last before me tracked him here, to my old home town. I was the only Knight who knew this town, except for you. The Lord wanted to be sure the Traitor was here before telling you, because he wanted as few as possible to know. So, I was ordered by the Lord to resign as Sheriff and come here to find the Traitor. The decision was made not to inform the Vital Knights. I don't know why this decision was made, but I think the Lord suspects that the betrayal may go farther than this one traitor."
"Right," I said. It was a sad thought.
"But," he continued, "you are trusted. When I found the Traitor, if it was here in Texas, I was to notify you."
Knowing and dreading the answer, I asked, "What do they want from me, Wayne?"
I heard a faint sigh, and he responded, "You must kill the Fate-infested body of the Traitor, Simon. He is here in town. He works with another human, also Fate-infested, but not a Knight."
"Why are the Fates here? Why did the Traitor come here?"
"We do not know. Simon, there is something else," he said.
"What?" I said, sickness gripping my gut at the thought of killing another man, Fate-infested or not.
"You are only charged by the Lord to kill the Traitor. The other, however," he said, "I want you to kill him. This request is from me, not from the Lord. I want you to know that. Still, I charge you to do it, Simon. I cannot do it myself."
"Why?" I turned and peered to where I knew his face had been.
"He killed my son," I could hear new tears in his voice. "It's my fault, Simon. It's my fault. The Dread, k'mek, he caught me snooping around, though I did not see him. He followed me when I made my foolish trip to see my wife and son. Once he knew who I was, and who my son was, he conspired somehow to bring my son to the place where they met. My son, Alan, was a Detective. The man lured my son to the place where he and the Traitor met. It's a bakery called Il Forno. It's over by the university." His voice was choked with anguish. "He shot my son in the head, Simon! That damned baker, he killed him in cold blood while the Dread laughed at me."
"God, Wayne," I said. "I'm so sorry." Then, something occurred to me. "Baker?" I asked, "Who's a baker?"
"The man who killed my son. His name is Romeo di Marti. I want you to kill, him, Simon. Swear that you will."
But I couldn't respond. 'Romeo di Marti?' I thought. I jumped up, my mind racing. "Sheriff," I stammered, "I... I'm already looking for Romeo di Marti. I... who is..." I couldn't contain all the swirling thoughts in my brain. What did this mean? Who sent the Whim? How are these connected? But then, one question stopped all the others cold. "Sheriff," I asked, turning to where he sat, "what is the Traitor's name?"
"He is the Maasai healer, Joseph Mollel," he said.
All the blood drained from my face. "Go rest, Wayne. I'll handle it," I called behind me. I didn't wait to see if he'd heard. I ran out through the broken door and toward the car as fast as I could, one thought screaming over and over in my head. "What have I done? What have I done?"
I had taken them right to her!
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