Forgotten Embers

59. Peace: There Is None

Eliezer knelt beside the bed in his room with his head down and his face buried in the blankets. His elbows rested comfortably on the mattress and his hands pressed together with interlocked fingers.

It was late and long past the time he would have normally slept, but his mind was set on other things. The room was dark with the exception of the soft and gentle moonlight which flooded through the window, the curtains of which he had pulled back to welcome the newness of the quiet air at even.

"Will you not sleep?" a gentle voice asked from behind him.

He smiled, raising his head without opening his eyes. "You, my dear, are awake, are you not? So, tell me, why not I?"

"You, Mr. Webber, do not take proper care of yourself," she quietly scolded him. "You have tried and labored these past days. You should rest now, while you're able."

"Ah, and you, Miss Garner? Will you rest, also?" he asked, discreetly glancing over at her, unmoving.

She stood in the doorway, her arms crossed, on her face a bemused and considerate smile. She was wearing the cloak which she often wore, blue like midnight, with a gold pendant and a cotton dress.

He paused, perplexed by her. "Are you going out?"

"I often do go out near morning," she told him. "It's quiet then, and people are sleeping." She raised an eyebrow and leaned forward, giving him a look of implication.

He grinned, amused by her.

'Ah, lovely lady.'

His heart smiled.

"Well, I'm sorry to have altered that reality for you. Shall I shut the door?" he teased.

"Hiding isn't the same as resting, Eliezer," she quickly stated. "You'll still be awake, regardless... and I'll know it!"

"So the door shall remain open..." he quietly commented. "Are you coming in, then?" he asked, closing his eyes again.

"Are you inviting me in?" she replied with some surprise and mild skepticism.

"Certainly not," he jokingly replied. "But if you were to come in, perhaps you would join me. My spirit is burdened and my heart heavy. Thus, have I spent the night in supplication for us."

"You shouldn't be so concerned," she told him, speaking softly through the night. "All is well, as you would generally assure us."

He raised his head, parting his arms, and looked at her, blinking. "Generally?"

"Yes, generally," she grinned, visibly amused by him. "What is it that has you so vexed, then? Is it this matter with DelMont?"

"Among other things, but yes," he muttered as he readily confessed. "If DelMont were tea, he would be utterly undrinkable. The man is entirely room temperature. But... it's not just him, it's all of Laoce that concerns me. Then, there is the other matter. I am thankful for Delphi and Asrymn, but what of the others? Those whom they've sent are hardly representative of our King and his servants. What's happened to the Kingsmen, Dorcus? Have they lost all conviction?"

"Peace, Ambassador. All is well," she wholeheartedly assured him with the pleasant delicacies of kindness. "Such matters are not all solved at once."

He sighed. "But there is so much left undone."

"Rest now, Eliezer," she implored him, "and we'll meet the day tomorrow."

He smiled, standing to his feet, and met her in the doorway. "Where ever did you hear such a thing?" he asked with feigned inquisition, smiling helplessly, his face marked with tender affections and heartfelt interest.