Francis LaPorte and the Association of Good Fellows

Speak No Evil

Tuesday, 22 Nisan, 5693

Chimes was incapacitated after a grueling bout of tonsillitis. Still, the situation in Bevel had become desperate and the news reports coming from Garma were as mixed as they were fierce. He would have gladly gone himself, if it weren't for his bad luck. Even so, it was necessary that he may know of the situation there with absolute certainly, free from all governmental bias, and to do so, he must hear through a trustworthy source from the clerics themselves. For that task, he had selected his respected colleague and friend, Horatio Delavan, from Swatchel.

With him, Horatio brought two other capable members of the Kingsmen World Alliance native to his province, clerics Troy Fulton and Archibald Duncan. Now, Archibald Duncan was a friend of LaPorte's, and had received a message from him by telegram requesting with urgency a meeting with Horatio upon the arrival of the company in Bevel. Francis sent with it well wishes for traveling and greetings for the holiday, but that was hardly the point. The tone of the letter was dire, and the request for an immediate audience had left them with the unsettling impression of some dark mystery.

It was a sultry, overcast day when the group arrived in Bevel and they knocked on the door of the house at the end of the block in the outer district where they were to meet Francis. They had only just arrived in town, their trip having taken the better part of three days. They had traveled over seven hundred miles of country and crossed national borders with the three of them stuffed like sardines into Fulton's black metal death trap of a car, and they were all suffering fatigue from their tiresome journey.

Francis opened the door himself, an unusual task for a man of his standing, and looked them all over with an intense glance before pulling them in. He shoved the men behind him, out of sight of the street, and leaned out the door, holding onto the wooden trim of the doorway for balance as he looked up and down the pristine streets of the choice neighborhood as though threatened.

LaPorte slammed the door and locked it, and it seemed to them as though the man had lost his mind, his behavior being utterly paranoid.

Francis looked at them all, recognizing their strange looks of skepticism, but this was hardly the time to explain. "Come with me, please, gentlemen," he told them, leading them brusquely down the hall and into a spare office.

They saw some servants along the way, but Francis waved them all off without lessening his pace.

"No, no thank you. No tea, no drinks, no cakes today. Nothing but silence and total isolation. I must speak to my friends here in peace," he proclaimed, grabbing the polished door handle and ushering the men into the room.

The three men entered into the room, and again Francis closed the door and locked it hurriedly behind them.

"My apologies, gentlemen, for my discourteously," Francis told them as he turned back from the door and entered into the cramped office space much more fitting for two than for four. "But we must be careful about such meetings. Surely, the Association is aware of your arrival at the border, and your intentions are well known, I think. It is in their best interest that you do not receive right information. Therefore, we should have no interruptions, even by our helpers here."

He paused for a moment, looking the three travelers over. Their suits were crumpled from the journey and their many hours in the car.

"Thank you for your immediacy in coming," he said with a smile. "You never know anymore who is watching or listening to you." Again, he paused, and his eyes turned bright with dramatics. "Surely, you have seen the signs?" he asked them.

"Hear no evil, see no evil... dead," Duncan commented dryly with a glance towards his compatriots. "What's it about?"

"A new government initiative," Francis told them. "They're encouraging citizens to report any suspicious activity. If you hear anything said or see anything done that is against the party, report it. Turn in your friends, your neighbors, your family... all for the good of the country. Verehren Freitag. Garma over all. But that isn't why I called you."

"Then what is?" Horatio asked the blue-eyed man with interest.

"Bartley," Francis replied with a faint smile.

Delavan appeared stunned, almost appalled, and he repeated, "Bartley?" with shocked and sudden impulse. The matter seemed much too small.

"Yes, Bartley," Francis said again, his cool demeanor giving way to his mild amusement.

"What could be going on with Bartley that's of such a pressing interest?" Fuller asked, full of fierce inquisition.

"Why, they're trying to remove him from the country, of course!" Francis said, almost laughing. "The Association has launched a campaign against foreigners, and he isn't Garman, remember? The man's from Swatchel. He's much more your countryman than he is mine. I've done what I can for him, called in some old contacts and such, but it isn't just him; this is happening to public workers and academics all throughout Garma. New legislation from Freitag restricting the roles of all foreign nationalists — 'aliens and Altruites beware!'"

He stopped. The men stood staring at him. They were clearly tired. Perhaps, he should have given them some tea after all. No. Still, no. It would have been too great a risk. They would be better once he let them go and settle in their hotel. Oh well! There was just one more thing to tell them.

"There is one other matter to address," he said, meeting the tan-faced man from Swatchel whose dark brown eyes watched him with silent intrigue. "I would like for Bishop Chimes to have a proper report brought back to him in Inglegrad of the health of the church here in Garma. Horatio, I'm telling you, it isn't good... and a lot of these men don't realize just how bad it is."

"You think it's bad, then?" Horatio asked him, waiting patiently for a reply.

"There is talk of an Empiric Church," Francis informed him, "and the way Freitag is going, they might as well be proposing to invent their own religion. It won't be long until they are hanging up posters of themselves running knives through our holy book and calling us the 'enemies of state'." Here Francis stopped to wet his lips, then added with a rather grim seriousness, "Not only that; there is further persecution coming for the Altruites. I have good information from my brother-in-law. He works for someone higher up in justice, and that is exactly what we will have here in Garma is injustice."

Horatio nodded, sensing the urgency of all that Francis so gravely expounded. "I'll put it in the report," he assured him. "But, Francis, I cannot stress to you enough how important it is that you attend this coming conference."

"Horatio," he said, "wouldn't you say that it may be I am a bit more needed here?"