The Starward Exiles Entry 8
An Agreement
In my previous entry, Heath had agreed to go to war. I am picking up the conversation from there.
“So, you’ll go?” Madulluel asked.
“I’ll go,” Heath said.
I was impressed with the calmness in the man’s voice. A few moments before, he’d been defiant, but now a sort of resolution had set in. He looked like a man preparing himself for a hard task. This was certainly true. I had no knowledge of Heath’s military record, but my time in the Nordic War had taught me plenty. I didn’t relish his task, nor did I look forward to the part I’d share in it. A heavy silence hung in the air for a time. Finally, Madulluel spoke.
“I am being selfish,” she admitted. “But I don’t think I’m deluded when I say that my self-interest and necessity align. We need this alliance.” She paused. “The Nordics are winning, Heath, and if things remain as they are, you won’t have a people. They’re after your race.” She tilted her head towards me. “They’re after his religion. They won’t tolerate a repeat of the First Nordic War. They can destroy all the races if we fight alone, which, so far, we have done. But if our two races can set an example, if we can unite, together, we might all live, and if the man I’m sending you to is right, we might make sure the Nordics never rise again. But, Heath, I’ve lost much of my credibility declaring your people our equal. If I simply start demanding an alliance now, while humanity is losing, I won’t have any credibility at all. And I have no standing with your race, since I enslaved your kind for a time, so there’s no way I could take one of your leaders as a husband, even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I must create credibility, and I can’t do that on my own. That’s why I need you to become a legend. Whether by your own hand or my lies, I don’t care. My people need a reason to fight for yours.” She smiled, first at Heath, then at Cinthia and Helen. “I don’t know what my friend will do with you, but I will make sure that you are not in too much danger.” She looked back at Heath. “Because I’m selfish. I want our daughter to know her father. Which brings me to my next point. I want you to get your affairs in order, which is why you should see Mary and your children.”
“Given what you’ve said, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Heath said. “When we were here, they were too young to remember me. If Mary introduces me as their father now, and I don’t come back, well, I can’t imagine that would be very good for them. I’ll only go if she promises not to bring them.”
Madulluel shook her head but said, “I’ll speak with her, but I can’t promise what she’ll do.” She narrowed her eyes. “I’ll repeat. I’m selfish. You love Mary. You still love her. I know that, but if we marry, I expect my daughter to have a father the whole way through. If Mary comes asking for you, I don’t want our child to lose her dad to other children. Once she’s grown, you can do what you want. Do you understand?”
“Are you . . .” Heath began, his face red.
“Heath,” Jill said, a warning in her tone. “Selfish or not, if you leave too soon, the Droguldai will use it as an excuse to say humans are untrustworthy. This legend thing is thin as it is. It might hold with her people, but barely. If you give them an excuse, the alliance will collapse, and honestly, the other houses will assassinate her and your child to send a message to anyone else who tries to interbreed with another race. You wouldn’t just be choosing Mary and your first children. You’d be signing Madulluel and your daughter’s death warrant.”
Heath’s head snapped toward Jill. He glared at her for a moment but then sighed and nodded.
Madulluel went on. “This might be the last time you see Mary or your children for a long time, even if you survive. I’ll try to make other arrangements, but I don’t know, so you need to think very hard about whether or not you want to see your oldest children again.”
Heath was silent for a time. He sat in his chair, thinking. Finally, he looked at me and gave me a smile that was one of the most miserable expressions I’d ever seen. “Monk,” he said. “A faithless marriage, choosing one child over another—I can’t imagine your good book has anything good to say about all this. What’s your advice?”
I’m ashamed to say I stammered. All these bizarre, interwoven, delicate details were beyond my imagination, not to mention something I’d think to look for in my studies. I prayed for an answer, and a heavy silence fell on the room. Everyone was looking at me, and I felt frozen with fear and embarrassment. Finally, a thought did come to my mind, and, although it felt like something of a co-opt, the thought was true, and—I supposed—relevant.
“It sounds like you and your wife have deep wounds that should be addressed. I don’t think you can make any decisions about what’s best for your children until the pain in your hearts is faint enough for you to think clearly. So, see your wife, deal with your pain, then make this decision together.”
“Well put,” Jill whispered beside me.
A politician’s dodge. I thought sourly. But I gave her a faint nod.
Heath was silent for a time. Then he nodded. “I think that’s as good an answer as I can expect. Fine. I’ll see Mary and talk about it with her.” He stood up.
“There’s something else,” Madulluel said quickly. Heath looked down at her. “I’ve given you time to complete this errand should you choose. I’ve found Jeena and Silby.”
Cinthia and Helen staggered backward as if they’d been slapped.
“They’re alive?” Helen asked.
Madulluel nodded. “I know it’s taken some time, but there’s a reason for it. Normally, when the Nordics capture the sla . . . the humans we released, they give them to the Reptilians to resell.” She gave Heath a very sad smile. “You’ve developed a reputation while in my employ. They knew who you were, and they knew they were your . . . wives.” She looked at Cinthia and Helen apologetically. Helen nodded, which seemed to imply that she didn’t know a better term either. “They took Jeena to Silby as trophies, to be used as entertainment. They’re being kept in a Nordic brothel.” Madulluel’s eyes became stone. “Heath. I know you are not my slave. But would be so kind as to make an example of them.”
Heath balled his hands into fists. “With pleasure,” he whispered and began marching toward the doorway. Cinthia and Helen followed him while Madulluel remained seated. Jill and I looked at each other and stood, but when I returned my gaze to Heath, he’d stopped. His eyes were wide, and his skin pale.
I looked toward the doorway, and there stood a little girl. She looked to be eight, but, judging by my vague understanding of the timeline of events, I knew she couldn’t be more than four. So far as I could tell, she looked exactly like her mother, but Heath’s expression told the truth. This was their child.
She approached the haunted man without fear and stopped a couple feet in front of him. Her expression was hard to read. The only way I could describe it was to say it communicated curiosity driven by a highly analytical mind. I can only assume that the Droguldai develop faster than humans. She looked him up and down as the entire room remained frozen.
“She talks about you,” she finally said.
Heath looked back at Madulluel, who was fighting back tears. He turned to the girl and tried to smile. “Does she?”
“Yes. My memory is very good. I remember you holding me. Then you were gone.”
“I’m sorry,” Heath whispered.
“Why? Why did you leave? Don’t you love us?”
“Of course, I love you,” Heath said. He swallowed and added. “Your mother—” He paused again, and I saw a hint of anger flash across his expression. He hid it quickly by closing his eyes. I knew then he wouldn’t believe the next words that came from his mouth, but he meant to say them, sin or not. “Did something very brave. She did it to save me and my friends. But if I’d stayed, the two of you would’ve been in danger. I can’t explain it any better than that.”
The girl seemed to take this in with the cold demeanor of a scholar. I can’t say whether or not she believed him. Finally, she said, “Come back.”
“Yeah. Okay,” Heath whispered.
“Come here, child,” Madulluel said, beckoning her daughter with tears in her eyes. The girl ran up to her and sat on her lap. She tucked some strands of loose hair behind the girl’s ear, looked at Heath, and mouthed the words, “Thank you.”
Heath nodded, and we left the room.
I will recount what happened next in the following entry, Lord willing.
May God grant you peace.
Hieromonk Nicholas Petrov
