Chapter 1 - Invitations
2013/03/29 12:05 a.m. The old home of Joe and Elizabeth Whitsed, Popular River First Nation, landbase "Poplar River 16", Manitoba, Canada.
He stood in the mudroom for a minute, feeling the closeness of the walls, the smallness of place he'd once called home. He sighed, no it was gone. This was not home. The 'homeness' was gone, relocated somewhere with his parents, maybe. Probably simply gone forever now. He took a few deep breathes, holding and releasing, and with them letting go of his hope, fear, anger, and sadness. She was right, it was time to move on.
He called into the house, "Ya were right, time to leave the past the past. Do some tidying up here, put the key in the mail box an a letter to who come along next."
He got no response. He took a few steps out of the mudroom into the cross hall between the kitchen/dining area and the front room, looking in each, and then up the stairs, he called out "Nana, answer me, did ya find something, are you hurt..." then he went quiet, motionless, and listened for the sounds of anyone, anything moving.
He turned at the sound of nigh imperceptible footsteps. She stepped into the archway between the front and back rooms, a slim but athletically toned mixed Amerind young woman, her hair short, pixieish cut, dressed in durable hiking wear as she'd been when he'd last seen her.
"I am glad you have finally decided to listen to reason. There is so much more than the past to consider. It is important, but I told you not to let it dominate your choices." Her accent was "middle america newscaster" with a hint of southern twang.
"Ah. Ya rejoined me then... Robyn." He rubbed his face, as though he could scrub the irritated look from it, "Okay. Should be happy, but... well. Admit to some level of annoyance."
"No more so than the usual I suspect."
"Well, long as we talkin again an ya being helpful, why not take bedrooms up stairs, I'll take down here, let's open the windows an air this dust out a bit. An make sure ain't nothing left here to connect to the family. Sleep here tonight, move along in the mornin, unless you changed ya-" he said the last with a wry grin and an upbeat note, knowing it was needling, but he couldn't resist.
"Not even a little." She cut him off. "This place is still far to dangerous for us to remain. Besides, I quite liked the look of Virginia. Even you remarked the mountains were spectacular and the weather was very pleasant. If you insist upon a lake side residence, there was that one town, mmm, Smith Mountain Lake? I would say Georgia, I've longed for some nice swamps, but you rather ruined that with the idiotic cairn marker you carved 'Nana Lepwa' into. You'll have to avoid that area for decades, perhaps a century now. So very limiting."
He shook his head and turned muttering, "Her death was momentous occasion, needed proper send off," and headed into to the kitchen and started opening windows.
She called after him as she moved up the stairs, "If that's all then, there should be old rags in the pantry, and probably old linens upstairs for dusting. They will be coming apart, but we should put them out as well, with anything else that needs disposal. Leave this place bare."
The two spent the afternoon dusting, sneezing, and airing the house. He did check the old shed out back, and no, it had succumbed to the ash, roof half fallen in, most of the tools left behind were piles of rust, but there was one wood axe and a few sharpening stones that were still in excellent shape, protected in the back corner. He added them to his ruck.
Late in the afternoon he made a small fire pit in the backyard and burned the last of any personal belongings they'd found. Robyn sang a few medicine songs, and moved things about in the yard, a stone here, chimes moved from the porch to the trees, a shined up hub cap to catch the morning sun there. After the fire died, she claimed they and his parents were as severed from the house as she could make them without burning the whole place down.
That evening he wandered the town, spending the very last of his cash on fish and potatoes, enough to fill them both for the night and leave some leftover for breakfast. Hopefully hunting or fishing would be better tomorrow.
He ended up sleeping in the back room, his poncho as a blanket, rolled up clothes as a pillow. His old bed far to small for him and he was loathe to sleep in his parents room, which Robyn took anyway. Neither wanted to spend too much time in Nana Lepwa's old attic room.
2013/03/30 07:05 a.m. The old home of Joe and Elizabeth Whitsed, Popular River First Nation, landbase "Poplar River 16", Manitoba, Canada.
They rose early, as was custom just before the dawn's false light, they the ate cold fish and fried potatoes in a peaceful silence. When they finished they gathered what little they had. Robyn handed her pack to Machk, "There is one last thing I wish to do in the attic room, wait for me outside," he gave her a look that said 'not this again', "I promise, I will be joining you."
He looked at her earnest face a few moments, sighed, took her pack as well, and headed for the door as she skipped up the stairs. Machk stopped in the mudroom, readjusted the axe in the ruck so it the handle would sit just below the top of his head and stop banging into the lintels and ceiling beams.
He looked back up the stairs, "Going out, don't be long," turned and opened the door, it fluttered gently as the door swung in.
He froze, his blood running cold, the feeling of conflict rising. He took a half step out the door, his eyes darted around the yard, the street, the neighboring homes. Nothing stirred except a few birds in the sky a distance a way, he waited a moment, and no, he felt no eyes upon him. He breathed, calmed, and ducked back in, depositing the packs on the mudroom floor, the spear leaned into the corner, and from there quietly called upstairs, "Robyn, come down here."
She heard the seriousness in his voice and came quickly down. Her look was concerned and inquisitive, he just pointed to the envelope on the door. She moved to the door and crouched, taking it all in.
"I don't see or smell anything off. It's yours, I should not touch it until you have received it and chosen to pass it to me, there may be magic upon it."
He looked at her, "Is that safe? Should we, should we just leave it? Put miles between it and us?" He didn't sound frantic, just concerned. Maybe slightly more annoyed that she'd been so very right, the future loomed suddenly, one he wasn't yet prepared for.
She looked at him, her face communicating the unspoken 'foolish boy', "Someone has found us. Or you at the very least. It is meant for you, whether warning or invitation, we can not tell until you open it," she stood and stepped back, passing through the mudroom into the hall, giving him space.
"Right," he pulled a bowie knife from the sheathe strapped to the small of back under his loose shirt, and crouched down to examine the 'envelope'. Then he moved to the side and gently pried it using the tip of the knife, the flattened wax disk holding it to the door popping free easily. He caught it before it could fall far, stood and shut the door.
They moved into the kitchen, he set the bowie knife on the counter and stood a moment lightly holding the envelope by opposite corners, letting it spin gently, slowly as he contemplated it. He stopped it, and turned the wax seal to Robyn, "Do you recognize this seal? This a House of the Lords of Change?"
"If it is a House of the Court, it is not one I recognize, but I was no scholar of the heraldry. It may be... his arms, or any other. It may also not be connected in any way, but if not, it is passing strange for a local, they have not done communiques in this style for a long time."
He tapped the envelope against the bridge of broad nose a moment, as though he could knock understanding of it straight into himself. Then he snatched up the knife and in a smooth motion skimmed the wax seal off the envelope, laying the knife and seal aside on the counter top. He unfolded it and read the contents, his face becoming even more confused.
"I... What?" He passed it to Robyn to read and leaned against the counter to watch her face. "What ya make of this?"