Gallel's Heir

Chapter 9: Emptiness and Awakening

Emptiness
Empty  --- so empty.
Invisible, I have no face ---
Unheard, I have no mouth ---
I have no ears that I can comprehend the physical world---
I have no heart, for I am made of stone.
Dust fills my emptiness.

Awakening
He dug deep grooves into my face --- my eyes;
He built up a slope ---  my nose;
He opened a great gulf ---  my mouth;
He filled me with understanding.
His kindness melted my stony heart;
The dust flitted away, and affection fills me.
---Anath shen Sorrel Albandor of Yambisey

The corridors deepened into dusk. Had it been afternoon, Canúden would still have had difficulty seeing clearly. The guard’s heavy footfalls echoed, each step a blow to Canúden’s head and nerves. Anything associated with Tutang put him on edge. And now he was signing his life to the beast. Tutang wanted him for a kel. A royal. A pompous member of the Council of Six. Canúden’s stomach churned to retch, and the best place to do that would be onto Boreck’s back. Maybe on Tutang’s face.

The Kel greeted him warmly when they arrived in his office; Canúden’s guts tightened. “Ah, Canupen. You’ve come at last!” Tutang came to the front of his desk, arms outstretched as if to embrace. “What have you decided about my offer, then?”

Canúden tensed and took a deep breath. “May I make a few comments first?”

“By all means, my boy! Go ahead.”

With a glance from the Kel, Boreck smiled, left, and closed the door behind him.

Straightening, Canúden stared out the strip of dim window behind Tutang. “I am Canúden den Ubal Alharren of Ocher…”

“Well, of course you are, boy…” Tutang returned to his mahogany chair, more in Canúden’s line of sight, one fist under his blubbery chin, and tapped his desk irritably. Canúden continued, without flinching. “I had been in service at Gallel for six months before losing my position as common houseboy, a hall sweep, and a scullery. I have no prior experience in anything political or worldly…”

The large man slapped his hand on the desk. Canúden’s lips twitched. Tutang said, “I know, I know all these things. I see your potential. I know it. I don’t need a resume.”  Visions of the man’s violence to Dylin filled Canúden’s consciousness, every cut or bruise he’d seen, even those self-inflicted. This man was responsible for them all. “I know your qualifications. I also know brains when I see them. I don’t need an assistant with a political agenda — I want someone I can mold. I want you. Don’t waste my time with your pretense of stupidity. I want you for the job, Canúden. You’re the most qualified man in all of Vishall…”

His animation was aggression, his flatteries threats, and Canúden’s chest throbbed with every pounding of Tutang’s fists on the desk. He would persist under a tyrant.

Dylin persisted every day.

“Sir?” Canúden ventured. The appellation tasted bitter; the Kel deserved no word of  respect. Tutang stopped, surprisingly without protest at being interrupted. “Before I tell you my decision, may I make a few conditions?”

“Conditions, boy? Why do you need conditions? I’m making this offer as advantageous and as interesting as possible.”

“There are items that have not been covered...”

“Well, go ahead, boy.” Tutang folded his arms. “I’m interested to know what they are.”

Fresh water from Dylin’s hands would be welcome to Canúden’s dry throat. “Firstly, I will not be obligated to do anything my conscience tells me not to do…”