D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

Siry shifted back and forth, bored. He was smaller than I was and looked around fifteen, though he carried himself with confidence, as if he were older. His hair was kinky curly, but long. It fell to his shoulders in long corkscrews. When he moved, they bounced like springs. His clothes were like everyone else’s, but old and worn. His shirt was darker blue, with cutoff sleeves revealing thin, strong arms. His pants were probably long at one time, but were cut off to just below the knees, with raggy ends. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked as if his clothes hadn’t been washed in a while. I’m not saying he smelled, but where everyone else in the village wore clothes that were bright and new, Siry looked kind of, well, grungy. I guess he was a street kid, tropical style.

He was full of nervous energy. I wondered if he was always like that, or if it was because three people were debating his future. His skin was dark, like Remudi’s. I guess on Second Earth we’d call him black. He was thin, but strong looking. “Wiry” is a good word. My guess was he was athletic. His eyes were dark brown, almost black. They were intense. Or angry. Back at home if I saw him walking toward me, I’d get out of his way. Not because he was big and intimidating, but because he seemed like someone who would snap with no warning. He was not the kind of guy you’d want to mess with.

Unfortunately, I was going to have to mess with him.

After a few minutes of concerned debate, the tribunal came back. The women sat in their chairs. Genj stood facing us.

“There may be an opportunity here,” the older man said. “Jen Remudi was my friend. He was a friend to all three of us and a trusted member of this tribunal.”

Whoa. Remudi was on the Tribunal of Rayne. He was a leader. He was respected. There again was a guy who was special in his own way, on top of being a Traveler. I wondered why his son turned out to be such a slug.

“His disappearance remains a mystery,” Genj continued. “Pendragon, if you are telling us the truth, and I’d like to believe you are, we’re hoping you might help us learn of what happened to our friend.”

Uh-oh. I could tell them exactly what happened to him. But I wasn’t going to. No way.

Moman said, “We’d like you to remain here in Rayne until you are fully healed. Hopefully, that will include recovering your memory. You can stay in the same common house where Telleo cared for you. You’re free to explore our village. Make no mistake, you will be watched. If there is trouble, you will find yourself right back here, where there will be a very different outcome.”

“Thank you,” I said. “If I can help you, I will.” I meant it too. Though not exactly in the way they were hoping. Still, if there was a way I could give them closure on Remudi, short of telling them the whole truth, I’d do it. They seemed like good people. Their village looked like a peaceful and decent place to live. It was the perfect target for Saint Dane. My goal was to figure out what it was about this village that could create a turning point that would affect all of Ibara. Things were looking up.

Genj stepped in front of Siry. The kid smirked, as if daring him to say something he’d actually care about.

“Siry,” Genj began, “you are a disappointment to the tribunal, to your village, and to your father. You are a thief and a liar,”

If this bothered Siry, he didn’t show it. He’d probably been called worse.

“This is the fifth time you’ve been brought before us on charges of thievery, mischief, vandalism, and brawling. Out of deference to your father, we’ve never given you a fitting punishment. That changes today.” He stepped back and took his place between the two women.

Drea declared, “Siry, you are assigned to work with our fishing fleet for a year of hard labor. Our hope is that by spending a concentrated time on a constructive, important task, you will learn the value of the individual’s place in our society, and return to it a more respectful, useful citizen.”

Siry’s eyes went wide. “Wha-? No!” he shouted. His cool finally cracked. “I’ve never done work like that. I don’t know how.”

“You’ll learn,” Moman assured him. “Hopefully, you’ll learn a lot of things, including respect for yourself.”

“I won’t go,” he shouted defiantly, stabbing his finger at me. “You let an outsider free in the village, but sentence the son of a tribunal member to a year of hard labor? That’s not fair!”

The three leaders exchanged knowing looks. I wasn’t sure if it was because they were satisfied that they had finally gotten to Siry, or had other plans.

Genj said, “You make a good point. There might be another way.”

“Anything!” Siry shouted.

The older man stood back up and walked to us. “Perhaps we shouldn’t let Pendragon roam our city so freely.”

Uh-oh. Now it was my turn though. Genj wasn’t finished. He put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Siry, you can serve your sentence in another constructive manner. You can supervise Pendragon.” “What!” Siry exclaimed.

“He would be your responsibility,” Genj said. “If there are problems, all you need do is contact security. We hope that won’t be necessary. We want Pendragon to recover. If there’s a chance to learn what happened to your father, don’t you think we should take it?”

Siry stared at his feet, his jaw clenching.

“Of course you do,” Genj said, satisfied, as he sat back down. “It’s your choice, Siry. Either act as Pendragon’s overseer, or set sail with the fishing fleet in the morning.”

Siry gave me a sideways look. He may have been debating his options, but I knew what choice he’d make. It was a no-brainer.

A few minutes later I walked out of the mountain cave, free. Better still, I was with the next Traveler from Ibara. It was all good. Well, mostly good. Siry wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who seemed willing to put his life on the line to save humanity. My plan was to find out about him and his father. Siry had other ideas. As soon as we left the cave, he stormed away from me without saying a word.

“Hey,” I called. “Where you going?”

He stopped and sighed. I annoyed him. He walked back and got in my face, trying to intimidate me. I still felt as weak as wet lettuce. If he had taken a swing, he’d have knocked me out.

“Look,” he said with disdain. “I don’t care if you’re an outsider or a Flighter or a slug from the sea. I’m not going to be your keeper.”

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll put you on a fishing boat?”

Siry scoffed. “They won’t get the chance.” I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I let it slide. “Don’t you want to know what happened to your father?” I asked.

“No,” he said flatly. “I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care what you believe,” Siry shot back. He gave me a little shove and walked off.

“Where did you get that ring?” I called.

Siry stopped short and twisted his Traveler ring.

“It was from your father, wasn’t it?” I asked.

He stalked back to me. His eyes were on fire. I wasn’t sure if it was with curiosity or anger. Was he going to hit me? I turned my body subtly, in case this turned into a fight.

“Why do you care?” he hissed.

I lifted my hand and showed him mine. Siry flinched. “What did your father tell you about that ring?” I asked. Siry backed off, no longer seeming so sure of himself. “No way,” he said, shaking his head. “No way what?” I pressed. “It was a story. He was always telling stories.” “What was the story, Siry?”

Siry glanced around nervously. I think he was debating whether to answer or take off. Or throw a punch, for all I knew. He chose to answer, I’m happy to say.