Chapter 11

"I know,” the boy said with another heavy sigh. “I heard you and General Mistri talking about me.”

Ma’ikel frowned when the boy referred to his father as General Mistri a second time.

“Ga’briyel, come here, please.”

The boy raised his head and then stood. He slowly walked to the table and sat down when Ma’ikel gestured to a chair. The man knelt down in front of him.

“Ga’briyel, do you not consider General Mistri to be your baba? I know he considers you to be his son.”

“But he is not my baba,” the boy said. “My baba’s dead.”

“Your first baba died, that is true, but could you not think of the general as your second baba?”

Frank cocked his head as if that thought had never occurred to him. “Can someone have a second baba?”

“If you choose to, yes. You are very intelligent, Anmah, and you have amazed me today, but you are still a little boy who needs a baba and a mama. General Mistri and his wife can be those for you if you let them.”

The boy nodded. “I suppose I could let them. Do you think I should call them Baba and Mama?”

“I know they would like that immensely.”

“Then I will do so. I owe them that much at least.”

Ma’ikel frowned. “You should not do it out of a sense of obligation, little one. You should do it because you want to.”

“Oh? Then I will do it because I want to. They have been very good to me, as good as my first baba and mama. It will be nice to have a baba and a mama again.”

“I am glad to hear it. Now, if you want to do something that will make your baba very happy, I suggest you go talk to him and tell him how grateful you are.”

“I can do that,” the boy said seriously. “I mean, I want to do that.”

“Good. Let us go, then.”

The two Anmah walked through the halls hand in hand.

“By the way,” Ma’ikel said, “what is your real name?”

The boy looked up. “It was Jala el’Adama el’Altyara el’Illyama, but that boy is dead along with the rest of his family. I like Frank better. Can I keep that name?”

“Of course you can. We will tell your baba when we see him.”

When they reached Jarda’s office, Ma’ikel raised his hand to knock on the closed door, but it opened before his hand made contact with the wood, and Captain Phransa and a young guardsman exited, their faces serious. They both nodded to Ma’ikel, and as they walked off, the guardsman asked, “Do you think the king will agree, Captain?”

“I am afraid so, Tero. I am also afraid of what the…”

The captain’s voice trailed off as they rounded the corner.

Ma’ikel put his hand on the door and pushed it open further. “Jarda? Do you have a moment?”

His friend was seated behind his desk, his head in his hands. At the Anmah’s words, his head came slowly up, and he ran his fingers through his hair as he frowned.

“I always have time for you, Ma’ikel.” When he saw Ga’briyel, his frown faded away to be replaced with a very welcome smile. “And you, my son, how are you feeling? Does your head still hurt?”

Ma’ikel raised his eyebrows to the boy at the words “my son,” and Frank simply nodded back.

“What is this? Have you two come up with your own form of communication?”

“You could say that,” Ma’ikel said with a smile of his own. He gestured for Frank to approach the desk. “Your son has something to tell you.”

Jarda stood up and moved around the desk. He dropped to one knee in front of the boy and waited. Frank glanced up at Ma’ikel and then faced his second baba. He took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “for taking care of me. And no, my head does not hurt anymore. Oh, and my name used to be Jala, but I want you to call me Frank if that is all right.”

Jarda gasped and almost fell backward. As it was, he reached out and steadied himself with a hand on his desk.

“You are speaking,” he breathed, and then his eyes sparkled as he took his son’s hands in his. “You do not know how happy you have just made me, my son.” He smiled brightly. “Ah, Ga’briyel, I have been waiting for this moment since I found you. Tell me, what made you speak?”

The little boy shrugged. “I had a question for Ma’ikel, and I did not know any other way to ask it.”

A chuckle found its way from Jarda’s chest, and it felt good after the morning he had just had. He brushed his son’s hair back from his forehead, noticing that the bump that had been there earlier was gone. “Well, I am glad,” he said. “I needed some good news today.”

“Why? What has happened…Baba?”

Jarda closed his eyes and drank in the sound of the title the boy had granted him. After almost ten years of trying for a child of his blood, he had given up on ever hearing anyone call him Baba, but now here was this boy doing just that. When he opened his eyes again, Frank was looking at him with concern.

“Nothing to worry yourself about, my son.”

“It involves Chatra Ricard and the others, does it not?”

Jarda’s eyes went wide, and he looked up at Ma’ikel. “What have you told him, Anmah? I know you know what has been going on.”

Ma’ikel looked affronted. “I have said nothing, my friend, and I know less than you think. I know you spoke to all of the Chatra, but beyond that, I know nothing of what you found out.”

“Then how did you know, Ga’briyel?”

The boy shrugged again. “I just know. I cannot explain how.”

“Oh, really? Well, my son, you are right, but again, it is nothing to worry yourself about. Only do not refer to Ricard or the others as Chatra anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because they have lost the privilege of using that title.”

“But…”

“Leave it at that, Ga’briyel,” Jarda said sternly, but then he moderated his tone. “I think your mama would like to hear you speak. What do you say to going to be with her while I talk with Ma’ikel?”

The little boy frowned, but he nodded. “Yes, Baba, if that is what you wish.”

“It would please me, yes, but I will not force you to speak with her. If you would rather, you can go watch the guardsmen train.”

Frank thought for a moment. “It would please her as well, would it not?”

“Most definitely.”

“Then I will go be with her.”

Jarda took his son’s head in his hands and placed a kiss on his forehead. “I am proud of you, Ga’briyel. First with your actions this morning with Ricard, and now with your willingness to speak. I know neither could have been easy for you to do.”

Violet eyes shone brightly in what Jarda had learned to take as pleasure since his son rarely smiled. “I want to make you proud of me,” the boy said softly. “I want my baba to be proud of me.”

“And he is,” Jarda said. “Very.” He gave Frank a small push toward the door to their chambers. “Now, go and be with your mama.”

“Yes, sir,” the boy said, and he disappeared.

Jarda slowly stood, the smile still on his face. “I do not know what you did, Ma’ikel, but thank you.”

“Me? I did nothing. I was telling the boy about the fact he cannot be killed by any bladed weapon, and, with no warning, he asked if it always hurt to die.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“That it usually did, but he already knew that. Then he said he did not want to die again because he did not want to hurt again. Eventually, he told me about all of his deaths.”

Shock showed on Jarda’s face. “Did he? And was I right about them?”

“You were. He filled in the details, though, and I must say that I am more amazed now that he is sane than I was before. All but one of his deaths were excruciatingly painful. I do not know how he bore it all, especially since he was alone.”

Jarda looked at the connecting door. “There is something different about him, is there not?”

“Without a doubt,” Ma’ikel said, and then he sat on one of the chairs in front of the desk. “I have never known such a young child who can articulate his thoughts as he can. He speaks as if he is twenty- or thirty-six instead of only six. Enough about him for now, though. What is going on with the Chatra?”

The fury that had filled Jarda all morning came flooding back as he filled in his friend on the events of the morning.

“And what have you decided, General Mistri?”

“That is what I need to discuss with the king. Care to join me?”

“Absolutely. What happens in the Chatra concerns me greatly if Frank is to join them someday.”

The two men walked through the hallways in silence until they reached the throne room. The doors were open, and a guardsman stood on either side of the doorway. They were closely watching the people going in and out of the room, but they snapped to attention when Jarda approached them.

“Yisu’s beard! It is Public Audience Day today. I forgot.” Jarda ground his teeth together and ignored the salutes of the guardsmen as he and Ma’ikel entered the room. They walked past the shopkeepers, farmers, and other commoners waiting to present their complaints and concerns to the king. When they reached Tomas, there were two subjects standing before him. Jarda and Ma’ikel stopped a respectful distance behind the men, but they could still hear what Tomas was saying.

“The surveyors will come out to your homesteads tomorrow morning and double-check your property lines. What they decide will be final. Do you both understand that?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the men said.

“Dismissed.”

The men bowed low and took three steps backward before turning around. At any other time, Jarda might have smiled at the malevolent glares they directed at each other as they walked out of the throne room, but he was in no mood to do so now. His attention was on his king, and when Tomas gestured him forward, he stepped close to the dais and dropped to one knee, his hand on his sword. Ma’ikel stood tall beside him.

“Rise, General Mistri.”

Jarda stood at attention and waited.

“General,” Tomas said, “what is so important that it cannot wait until the audiences are over?”

“With respect, sire, it is not something I can discuss in public. I request a private audience with Your Majesty immediately.”

“Granted.” The king turned to his scribe. “Artan, make an announcement that the audiences will resume in…” He glanced at Jarda.

“Hopefully no more than half an hour, sire.”

“Very well.” He turned back to Artan. “Half an hour. Those who do not wish to wait can come back next moon.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” the little man beside the throne said as he set down his paper and pen. He stood, straightened his tunic, and addressed the assembled subjects with the king’s proclamation.

“To the War Room,” Tomas said and walked away from his general and Ma’ikel, knowing they would follow. When they reached the War Room, which was connected to the throne room by a door to the left of the dais, Jarda held the door open for his king and Ma’ikel and shut it behind him as he entered the room after them.