Fire of Refignment-Into the Flames 1-3

Fire of Refinement

By Trisha Mann

In the flames
One is tried
Refined and purified
Paths align to join the journey
And they are tested
Fears are overcome by faith
Weakness, overcome by strength
Perseverance producing
character and hope
beyond life
to the powerful love
of the One who created all.

set on the backdrop
Of science fiction/fantasy.

Part 1
Into the Flames

Dedicated to the TrueLight,
who gives light to every man,
to all who are His,
and all who will come:
for the encouragement, strength,
and comfort of your hearts.

He is good.
"Ahay!"

      1:1

Hash-kah-nah

    I stood, wanting to step forward.  I had to do this, but the memories, the pain.  I wanted to forget, just forget it all!  But that was impossible.  I had to do this, to save Jaymith.
    The papers were still strewn all over the table.  Nothing had been touched since I left this room.  Everything was as it was.
I took a breath and stepped in.  Light shone through the tall rectangular windows facing the morning sun.  I made it to the table and sat down before the first memory hit.  I looked up and could see him in the doorway. 
 
    Jaymith stood, leaning cowed against the shadowed hallway fidgeting with his handkerchief.  He shivered, blew his nose and waited. His feet, which were bare and planted firmly upon the familiar stone surface, were wide and thickly callused.  He was dressed in a simple waist wrap coming down to his knees and a sleeveless work shirt: traditional Cerai'i. 
His features were distinctly Cerai'i with his rather wide thick body and short status of 5'2".  If the bones of a Cerai'i were found on Earth, they might have been mistaken for the Neanderthal.  But they did not have the prominent ridge brow nor did they have shorter legs, for these creatures were well proportioned.  Jaymith's distinct profile was a round forehead and pointed nose.  What looked to be like liver spots, which we identify with our elderly, gently spotted the sides of his head, speckling his arms and faded at mid-calf.  This elder, like most Cerai'i was losing the hair at the sides of his head, thus exposing the spots.  It left his remaining hair in a wide mohawk: blond and gray, and sort of frizzy.  Like lion's mane, it gently sloped down to his back. 
      Cerai'i did not cut their hair, but it generally did not grow beyond 8 to 10 inches.  His faded blue-green eyes watered as he watched me in eager expectation.  I had always liked how he did not have that superiority about him that many elders acquire and was such a simple friend.  He was very dear to me.  That was why I was working so hard to secure his freedom. 
He had just begun to believe in the Master of the Universe, forsaking the traditional religion of his people and his family showed him little support. His brother, Tetoni'ay, had threatened to inform the Union Authorities.  Once they found out, he would have no rights whatsoever and would be treated worse than a criminal.
      I remembered his eager stance that day, wanting so much to help, but holding back, knowing nothing of what I was doing.  Like most Cerai'i, he was illiterate but had a powerful memory and a most wonderful gift in storytelling and cooking.  He also loved to serve others, and that was another thing that made him so dear to me.  I hated to think of what the Union would do to this dear creature if they caught him. 
As I had covered my face with my hands feeling overwhelmed, he spoke, "Dear Sister-child," for that is what he called me.  He was an old friend of our family from before I was born, and when the Union exiled my family for their faith, it was he who looked after me for I was away at boarding school when it happened.  He lumbered over to me and said in his tentative way, "Please let me do something for you." 
He knew I was grown up and self-sufficient in the way of Kershonian humans, but he couldn't help himself. "Can I fix you something to eat?  I know, how 'bout rallies and crème with fresh biscuits, 'm?" His excitement bubbled up in his voice and even now it brought a smile to my face, and tears to my eyes.  I watched him as he set about the kitchen to create his masterpiece, a labor of love. 

      The vision faded and I shook my head to clear my thoughts.  What do I do?  Where did I leave off? Then I remembered.  I had wracked my brain for days as I poured over the documents of law and the articles.  There was nothing I could see that would help us even in the slightest. One thing remained apart from all this. 
      It had been in the back of my mind early on, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't ask the Advocate, so great and famous as he was, so well known, survivor of assassinations, and responsible for the Protection Act that secured Indigenous peoples. I remembered the pictures of him and how I always thought he looked stern, intimidating and almost scary.  How could I a mere 23-year-old fresh out of boarding school even approach to ask him?  I was no diplomat: so in eloquent.  Would he even consider me?  "This is crazy," I thought.  My hands shook as I prepared to record the holographic message.  I didn't even know how to begin.
         I drew a breath and clenched my hands.  I knew I had to. I had no other choice.  I needed advice desperately.  I was at the end of my rope.  I was lost in this legal system.  The Advocate was my last hope.  Would he even listen to me? Would my message make it without breaking up? I prayed a quick weak plea, and then drew up my courage.  I had to, to save Jaymith.
         Closing my eyes, I pressed the button.
         "Great Advocate of Indigenous Peoples,
      I am Kalisha Carter, from the planet Kershon in the Gjertan Quadrant, and am in great need of legal advice.  Um, being that our Union is conformist, religion has not been allowed, except for Indigenous Peoples. 
My family has previously been deported to Oshkan and I was raised by a friend of the family, a Cerai'i indigenous to Kershon.  Until recently he was protected under the Protection Act of Indigenous Peoples, but has come to follow Master of the Universe and is soon to be exiled.  I know so little of the legal system and I plead for advice.  Please, is there any way he can be secured? Is there any law that can prevent his exile?
         I realize I am being very bold to speak to you. Any advice would be greatly appreciated. Oh, and thank you for all the work you have done to protect indigenous peoples.  You are well known and respected in Kershon.
         Uh, thank you again for your time."
      I hit the button and set my head down on the table.  That was terrible but I knew better than to try again.  At least I remembered all the important things.  I was severely embarrassed, but what could I do?  I'd make a fool of myself before the Universe to save Jaymith.  I hit the send button.  All I could do now was wait. I covered my head as my mind was consumed by the memories, and then the carnival ride I could not get off lurched forward.

      It was that morning that we heard the pounding on the door and a voice calling out in Cerai'i, threatening and angry: Tetoni'ay.  I had been sitting in the kitchen holding a cup of tea and watching it's steam dance in front of me and feeling the warm sun on my back as it streamed through the large stone windows.  His disturbance broke me out of one of the few happy moments I'd had since my family's exile.
         I remembered the rage that awoke in me: the vehemence on my tongue.  Jaymith tried to keep me from uttering it as he shuffled ahead of me to the door and kept his broad back in my way so that I couldn't get around him. So determined was I to speak those things I'd saved up, that I ran upstairs and called them down from the window.  All my effort was in vain, for Tetoni'ay only made a brush off gesture, but Jaymith, clearly pained, opened the door and looked up at me.
      "Kalisha, he's my brother." 
      His gentle rebuke still burned my heart, for even as Tetoni'ay had threatened to turn Jaymith in to the authorities because of the Master, he still loved his brother.
         How I felt sick after that!  In self loathing, I tore out of the house. Blinded by tears, I stumbled over the rocks, and fled across the plain until I collapsed in the sand and beat it in useless fury.  Then, after I had exhausted myself, I awoke to hear gentle shuffling in the sand.  A soft voice murmured to himself.  It was Jaymith.  He had come out for me, but he was also gathering root rocks. 
Root rocks were like little potatoes only dried and very hard.  They grew quickly during the rainy season and then when the winds came, the plants shriveled up and were blown away leaving no trace.  One gathered them by sifting through the sand and catching them up.  In his tentative way Jaymith had come with something to do, simply offering his presence and talking to himself.
         I arose to my hands and knees and dug my fingers into the sand.  I was glad to not have to say anything just yet.  I felt so ashamed of my behavior and was emotionally worn out.  I half listened to him, and just worked in the sand.  There weren't many root rocks this time of year, but my fingers caught some thin stringy roots and I pulled up four or five.  I left them sitting on the surface and Jaymith picked them up.
         After a time, when it was clear that I wasn't really listening to what he was saying, he gently put his big cool clammy hand over mine as I placed another bunch of root rocks on the surface.  I looked up at him, startled, for it was bold of him to be so direct.
         "My child."
      I froze.  He had never called me that before.  A Cerai'i never used such terms with anyone but those directly related to them: not even other Cerai'i.  They always use second terms of relation like sister-child.  For him to do this meant he considered me as his own blood-kin.  The extended endearment reached deep in my heart. 
         "I know how you love me," he began gently.  I know how hard this is for you.  It is hard for me too.  I understand why you did that." 
         I looked down in shame, but his voice drew my eyes back to his.
         "As much as I love you, I love my brother.  Please don't say, to him, anymore."
         Tears came flooding again.  I had hurt him and yet he showed me such compassion.
         "I'm so sorry, Jaymith," I covered my face.  I always was a crybaby.
         "That is alright, I know." He reached out to me, his face pained by my response, and I leaned into him, letting him take me in his arms the way he did when I was a child, and he rocked me gently.  I thought of my father.  How I missed him.  I missed being his little girl.  I missed his embrace, and the ache of his absence- I began to shake.  "I miss Daddy," I cried, and Jaymith held me tighter. He understood. 
The sun passed behind a distant cloud casting it's light to the side in an array of beams that caught the silhouette of the rocky cliffs in the distance.  As I buried my face in his shirt, having wet it with my tears, I knew that the dust on my face was like streaky mud, but I didn't care.  I felt like a kid again, and the words, the words found their way up from my heart from somewhere once buried: the Cerai'i word for father and I spoke it, "Hashni."
      His arms tightened as he bent his head over mine, and I knew that it was the right word.  He whispered,
    "Hashkannah.  Ce wa ni, hashkahnah."
                   My child.          I love you, my child.

      My mind moved ahead to that evening back at the house.  I had forgotten it was my birthday, and Jaymith and Cordanali the neighbor, were both busy cooking for it.  Cordanali, another elder creature of the Kailyan people who stood 4’8’’, had also been left behind after his family’s exile due to faith.  He was not native to Kershon but was recruited for the mine-work, and he clung to his traditional religion. His family, though, became believers because of my father whom they greatly respected. They were there as my family was taken and when they saw why, they too proclaimed their faith in protest of their arrest.  And so they were also taken.
      Cordanali liked to take charge of the kitchen, as his assertiveness came out whenever cooking, and Jaymith didn’t mind taking a back seat. That night he wouldn't let me help because I was the "birthday girl" but Jaymith couldn't stop me from getting in on the action. 
Then the door, it was beaten loudly, and a voice I did not recognize called for us to open up.  They had come.  Tetoni'ay had made good his threat. 
      I tried to keep Jaymith from going, but he cupped my face in his hands and said, "Hashkannah, let me go."  I stood still, sick and dizzy as he went to the door and opened it. 
Two soldiers stood there.  One of them demanded, "Are you Jaymith, the Cerai'i?"
      "Yes."
      "You are under arrest."  And they bound his hands. 
      They began to lead him away and I couldn’t stand it anymore.  I screamed and ran after them.  A third Official continued to lead Jaymith while the two soldiers held me back.  I began to struggle and fight, but Jaymith's voice cut me short, "Kalisha, stop!"
I went limp, broken in heart.  The soldiers lowered me to the ground and held me as Jaymith climbed willingly into their shuttle.  As they secured him, I heard his voice, unafraid speaking gently, "Ce wa ni, hashkahnah."
         Then the soldiers released me.  I stayed in the dust crying pathetically as they took him away.

         I don’t know how long I had lain out there, but I awoke to the agonized cry of someone as they neared the house.  I knew the voice.  It was Tetoni'ay. Rage rose in me with strength and I drew myself up from the ground quickly.  As he came up, I blindly threw fistfuls of dirt at him and scrambled for the door.  I managed to shut it and lock him out just as his hand reached for the handle. 
         He sat out there on his knees crying, and with one hand on the handle, he wailed.  I was content to listen to him and leave him out there.  Cordanali was still in the house but he just watched me with sorrowful eyes. 

      Then I remember waking up in my bed upstairs.  I don't know how I got there.  I was weary and exhausted.  Cordanali would come in from time to time bringing food and drink, but I wouldn't eat.  Then Tetoni'ay came in.  I was angry that he was in the house!  Cordanali must have let him in.  He came and knelt down by my bed and pled with me to do something to save Jaymith.  I wouldn't talk to him.  I wouldn't acknowledge him. 
         Time and again he kept coming back, and I continued to ignore him.  I don't know how many days passed, but I knew Cordanali was becoming concerned.  One day after I again refused to eat, he stopped and confronted me gently.  He pled with me to consider getting up while there was still time and seeing what I could do to save Jaymith, for Jaymith's sake: forgetting what Tetoni'ay had done.  Then I realized by refusing to help Tetoni'ay I was not only hurting him, but I was really abandoning Jaymith who had given so much to me.
         That day I got out of bed, and as I came to the door of the room, there was Tetoni'ay.  When he saw that I was coming to help his brother, he bowed low to the floor at my feet in deepest gratitude, and I realized how hard I had been.  It was obvious that he loved his brother and never really intended for him to be arrested. He had only meant to scare him into returning to his traditional religion.  Now that he'd been taken, he was desperately afraid for him, and deeply remorseful.  He had let his rash anger move ahead of him and now he felt regret.  He and I shared this in common.

      1:2

      The Advocate

      He began as usual checking his messages.  Alone, he sat at his desk in the office.  Outside, tall evergreens shaded the building as they grew up alongside, keeping it cool.  A cup of hot tea was in his hand as he reviewed the holographic message.  As soon as the Human child spoke her name and began her plea, he set the cup down and leaned forward. 
He knew of her father Dr. Carter, as he had been the spokesman for the Cerai'i in the past, that is until he had mysteriously disappeared; and he was well aware of the Conformist Union's rigid agenda.  For this he had long been concerned.  As a follower of Yashhan himself, he had anticipated indigenous peoples falling through this gap ever since his failed attempt to get the Union to adopt the Interstellar Protection Act. 
         The Union was unwilling to acknowledge any who followed Yashhan, for in their egocentric minds, the Master of the Universe, as they called Him, originated from a religion of Humans from Earth.  Once the various religions of the Humans had been widely tolerated as any sound truth was made relative.  It then followed that since truth was relative, there was no need for religion. It was then viewed as nothing more than myth made up and used as a primitive tool for social order. Therefore it was put aside in exchange for the more progressive development of Human Attainment.  Now, as they looked at the rest of the Universe, religion of any form held little value. Because of this, they were convinced that no other peoples of other planets knew of The Master.
      He had always wondered at the Human's disregard for Truth, as soon as it became inconvenient.  They had a special gift, a revelation of Yashhan that he himself and many of his people longed for, but had not known. He hoped, deeply, to one day see it.
         Turning towards the window, he leaned back in the chair, holding his hands in a triangle, silent.  This situation was exactly what he had hoped to prevent through his protection act.  It was clear what had to be done. He knew what he was to do.  But it was no matter to take lightly.  This would be his most difficult task as The Interstellar Advocate of Indigenous peoples, perhaps even his last.
Evaluating carefully the situation, the history of the Gjertan Quadrant, his knowledge and experience with the Union in the past, and the pained young heart of the Human child: he knew the danger.  Considering these things, he formed his strategy for dealing with each and how he would conduct himself and his team.  Years of experience had taught him the virtue of patience and the wisdom of not rushing into anything.  After he had thoroughly examined everything he resolved himself to do it.

      At exactly two minutes past the start of Standard Kershonian Business Time, he contacted the Prime Minister of Kershon making an appeal to meet with him in person regarding a client on behalf of an indigenous Cerai'i recently incarcerated. 
         The Prime Minister was delighted with the chance to meet the Great Advocate of Indigenous Peoples and so he agreed. 
         The Advocate then proceeded with the preparations to go to Kershon.  His Head of Security was less than thrilled with his plans and did not hesitate to express them.
         "Gjet, bvah het atohl Gjertan."
                   Sir, you cannot go back to Gjertan. 
Morshaht stepped aside as the Advocate passed through the doorway briskly and without slowing his pace, preoccupied with his plans.
         The Associate stood a good two heads taller than the Advocate with a deep voice, broad shoulders, and a strong back.
"Gjet, ekhimotu wosh weish."
      Sir, it is dangerous.
         "Shikah bvon dobvish kaht-gjel."
                   Have the transport ship ready in two hours, Union Time; was his response as he continued with preparation.
         "Gjet, bvah het atohl."
                   Sir, you cannot go.
    At this the Advocate stopped and looked directly into the eyes of his personal bodyguard.
         "Morshaht, ie cit atohl Kershon."
                   Morshaht, I am going to Kershon.
      Morshaht saw the determination and dropped his eyes in reverence saying,
"Ahay Gjet."
         Yes, Sir.
"Shikah dahn. Lo hik-gjel net yoshha."
                   Assemble the crew.  We have 36 hours Union-Time.
         "Ahay, Gjet."
                Yes Sir.  Morshaht left the room and went about in submission to the Advocate's decision.

      He knew well, the danger, in more ways then one.  There was the Union, yes, and they were respecters of themselves first, but there was a dual danger.  He would have to be careful.  A weary wounded heart like this Human child's was bound to cling to him as a savior.  He could see that her pain was deep and tragic built over many years from childhood, and her emotions may confuse her.  He would have to counsel his agents also, not to get too close: a fine line to walk between two dangers.
         When at last all the preparations were made, he contacted Kalisha.

         
      "Ms. Carter,
      I have received your message and will do all I can to assist you.  I am coming to Kershon within two days by your time, for a meeting with the Prime Minister of Kershon.  I will personally bring your case to his attention.  Your presence at this meeting will strengthen your case.  I will send further instruction on where you are to meet my associates.  From there, they will escort you.
"Advocate Yashmakhnah Karanasht."

      I shook more than when I sent the message.  I could hardly believe it, hardly breathe.  Not only did he take note of my fumbled message, but he was personally coming out to bring my case to the Prime Minister of Kershon! And he wanted me there! I was going to the Prime Minister with Jaymith's case and I was going to meet the Great Advocate!  And he didn't seem stern or angry at all.  I was beside myself with awe.  I don’t think I ever felt so elated in my life.  Surely the Advocate would be able to save Jaymith.  I was almost afraid to believe it, just in case, but it was beginning to look like everything would be all right after all. 
         I began to notice light again. Yellow happy sunshine.  I smelled the dew on the dust as a fragrance.  The world looked beautiful again.  Tears arose in my eyes.  Perhaps the Master had heard my prayer.  I felt myself breathing again, and yet I was almost afraid to believe it.

        "Ms. Carter,
         I am sending you instruction on where you are to meet my associates.  They will be waiting for you on the steps of the Kershonian Judiciary.  They will address you by your first name. You are to go with them.  They will be waiting one hour past Standard Kershonian Business Time. If you wish to contact me further, use only your surname."

      1:3

      The Meeting

      I was so nervous.  Here I was alone in the biggest city on Kershon, approaching the steps of the Kershonian Judiciary.  I was already sweating in my blazer in the heat of the early summer.  I had been here before, of course, on a field trip with the boarding school but in the company of classmates and matrons.  This was the first time I had traveled alone, for Jaymith was always there to meet or accompany me.  He always worried about me.  Now I was alone. 
      The great steps rose high and towering, like a small stone hill chiseled in the side of the great high cliff of a building: a mastery of masonry.  Kershonians were known for their stonework.  I clenched my hands nervously and climbed two or three of the steps and waited.  People passed by, some climbing the steps to their jobs or appointments carrying brief cases and folders.  I clutched my small brown case with both hands in front of me, trying to look cool and collected.  Hovercrafts passed along the streets in usual traffic. 
      Then I noticed the dark craft, clearly a well built machine used for transporting important people.  A man in a dark suit approached from it.  Nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ear.  As he neared, I saw that he was not Human but of another people, though from a distance, he looked Human.  His black hair was tied back in a small ponytail and he wore shaded lenses, so that I could not see his eyes.  His receding hairline was high and I noticed a 'V'-like ridge crossing his forehead traveling down from both sides of his head to meet at a point above the eyes. 
         He held out his hand to shake mine and spoke my first name: the sign. 
I shook his and he turned, holding his hand toward the hovercraft, indicating for me to proceed. 
         Nervously, I walked toward the craft. 
He opened the side door for me and shut it after I was seated.  Then he himself climbed into the co-pilot seat beside another figure. 
I clutched the case in my lap as we lifted and flew to the mysterious meeting place.  I didn't realize how tired I was until I was awakened by a voice,
         "Ms. Carter, Ms. Carter, we have arrived at our destination."
Climbing out, I blinked in the light.

         I was being led down the hall, dimly lit but comfortable.  There at the far end were several people in dark suits conversing.  A tall thin frame stood among them: the Advocate, for I recognized his long white hair. It fell over his shoulders to midway down the back.  Drawing nearer, I saw that he had the same high hairline and 'V' shaped ridge as the associates who accompanied me, and he had white eyebrows, wild in shape.  They were a stark contrast to his reddish complexion and dark colored eyes.  Two long strips of straight hair, which began at the sides of his nose, hung down below his chin to form his mustache.
      As we approached, he turned to meet us. He looked solemn as in all his pictures. 
I swallowed hard and tripped, nearly losing my brief case.  The associate took my elbow to steady me, but the Advocate did not bat an eye at my clumsiness.  He reached out his hand to me as if nothing unusual had taken place. "Ms. Carter, welcome."
It was the same light rigid voice of the recordings.  I had thought it was just bad reception.  It may have been thin, but there was strength behind it. 
      He briefly shook my hand with both of his, familiar with Human customs, and yet he averted his eyes, avoiding direct contact.
         "Likewise," my voice cracked.  "I mean, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Advocate," I panted.  I was making a fool of myself before this legend. 
         "Ease, I am mortal," he spoke factually and without pausing, addressed the associate at my side. "Morshaht, we will convene in the conference room."
      The one who had met me on the steps turned swiftly and proceeded before us down the hall as we followed at a brisk pace.
         
         The room was a gray interior with diamond shaped brown carpeting.  The opposing wall was made of tall rectangular windows reaching from 24 inches above the ground up seven feet nearly to the ceiling: typical Kershonian architecture. The sunlight streamed in through the white sheer curtains.
         "Have a seat, Ms. Carter," he held his hand toward the chair on the left of the small conference table, while he himself walked to the far side of the room to a counter.  I proceeded to seat myself in the chair holding my brief case on my lap.
         "Do you like tea?" he asked not turning around, as he poured himself a cup of steaming liquid.
         "Oh, Yes, yes I do," I replied, still trying to get a hold of myself, though when he spoke, I got the sense of a gentle humble nature.
         Morshaht strode across the room and poured a cup for me as the Advocate turned away.  He then set the cup down before me and walked to the wooden door where he stood and waited patiently.  The herbal fragrance of the tea rose before me, and as I breathed it in, I felt soothed. 
      The Advocate walked past his chair, slowly, until he reached the windows and stood still looking out.  The light upon his profile exaggerated the contrast of his white hair and revealed the sharp contours of his aged face. He took a sip of his tea as he held the cup and saucer in hand. It seemed as though he had shrunk before my eyes.
      I watched him curiously, anticipating his words. Finally he spoke in a much softer, lower tone, with careful words.
      "This is a difficult case, Ms. Carter," he spoke slowly. "Legally we do not have much to support us.  I apologize for not informing you before," he turned his head slightly towards me. "But I am restrained by security to conduct all discussions in person." He brought his gaze back to the windows.
      My heart began to sink, but he did not give me time to ponder as he went on to explain.
"The Interstellar Protection Act that I brought to the Union entailed complete protection. However, they would not adopt it unless it held Indigenous peoples to their traditional religion: so I compromised." He took a sip of his tea.
      I had never heard of the Interstellar Protection Act, only the Protection Act of Indigenous Peoples of the Gjertan Quadrant.  I did not know he had been forced to compromise.  Now I recalled that picture of him in my history class: the picture at the feast which the Chancellor and High Council held in his honor for bringing us the Protection Act, and for his public service throughout the Universe.  He had looked so stern and grumpy, I had thought, but now I began to understand.
         "To the Union," he continued, "religious diversity is a threat, but indigenous groups are so primitive and diminished that they pose no threat as long as they remain unchanged. If they deviate, they must conform to Union standards lest they be named criminals and be thus punished. A Traditional Indigenous who forsakes his religion to follow the 'Master of the Universe' as you call him, has committed the worst offense.  He is considered worse than a Rebel, and forfeits all Indigenous rights," he paused again.
      "This is the case we have before us," he turned away from the window to face me, his form hidden in a darkened silhouette from the light behind him. "Legally, there is little to be done, however," he added as he began stepping towards his chair, and he seemed to grow again, "there is hope that with diplomacy and strategy we may succeed in altering the law." He set his tea on the table, and proceeded to seat himself. "What documentation do you have on your friend the Cerai'i?"
         "Oh," I fumbled with the latch on my brief case and pushed it across to him as he reached to receive it. 
        "I brought everything I had, copies of law and articles, but I'm afraid I don't know what is good for the case and what is not."
      He pulled the case in front of him, opened it and paused.  I blushed realizing that I had stored in there everything pertaining to this case including the news articles of the assassination attempts on the Advocate and his amazing survival of them all; but it was the thick book that his hands paused over as he lifted it.  For a moment, I thought maybe he recognized it, or knew what it was; but the moment passed as he brought out the documents, and without batting an eye to the news articles, pushed the case aside.
      Taking from his shirt pocket a pair of tinted lenses, he placed them on his nose and held the documents aloft. Raising his chin to keep them from falling, he carefully examined each paper.  "Good, this is good. We have documentation Cerai'i under the Protection Act," he continued reading.
        Now that he was away from the windows, his form became more visible.  As I looked at him, I realized that he was very different than what I had first thought.  His thin frame suggested the frailty of long-lived years, yet there was definitely something distinct emanating from his character, almost regal, mysterious, and deep.  As much as it intrigued me, it was also intimidating, and yet he seemed like a kindly grandfather, genuine and caring.
        At last he removed the lenses, shuffled the papers together and set them aside in a neat stack. With his hands palm down on the table, he continued looking at the stack as if he were still thinking and said, "There are some things you must consider before we proceed," and then he looked directly at me.
        All at once I was struck by the intensity of his character. Until now, he had continuously averted his gaze and I just thought he was distracted, but now in the shock of its strength, I looked away.
      His voice held a tentative gentleness, as if he understood my response. "Ms. Carter, it is very important that you trust me."
His imploring tone drew my eyes back to his.  I forced myself to maintain eye contact, and in so doing, saw the pure heart behind his words. I had nothing to fear from him.  He was here to help me.
      "Understand that I will do all I can to help you, and your friend, the Cerai'i.  Having compromised the Protection Act, I have made it more difficult.  This time, I put all on the line: no compromise." He set his teacup forward in the center of the table.
      I wasn't sure I understood his gesture, but as I watched him now, I realized that the intensity of his character was the great strength in him: strength to withstand the strain between his clear desire to protect, yet remain accountable to the law.  I also saw a hint of weariness and sadness revealed, which made him look even more frail, leaving only the strength of his character holding him up to this task. 
      "I need to know where you are, and you need to know the potential cost," he paused. "Are you willing to be arrested?"
      My heart began to beat a bit faster.  It was not something I had considered, but the idea of sharing Jaymith's fate comforted me somehow.  I knew I would rather be arrested like him than be free myself. 
      When he saw the resolve in my eyes, he posed his next question, "Are you willing to be punished?"
I knew to what he referred, the Mercy Whips: twenty-five lashes to deter one's course.  I swallowed, but if Jaymith had to endure it so would I. 
      "Are you willing to bear your heart to multitudes who may or may not be moved, and may even turn against you?"
This was much harder to endure.  I had not opened up to anyone outside of our circle of three since my family's exile.  It terrified me.  I would have to show my weakness and would be exposed to questions that I did not want to face.  I closed my eyes and breathed a shaken sigh.  Yes, I had to, to save Jaymith.
      "Are you willing to be exiled?"
      Fear seized my heart.  I had not thought that this would be a possibility either.  Part of me thought I'd be glad for perhaps I would see my family again, but perhaps not.  Oshkan was so cold and barren, filled with mysterious monsters and who knows what else?  What if I never found them? What if I found them dead? Tears rose as the old wound began to break open. I shut my eyes tight and worked to get a hold of myself.  I had nothing here, if Jaymith were exiled. I would rather be with him or share his fate.  I calmed myself and opened my eyes.
      "Are you willing to die?"
      This question hit me like a hammer, and I drew my breath in sharp.  Now I knew what he meant when he said 'all on the line.'  My head spun.  What really was on the other side of death, a black emptiness?  Would the Master remember me? Was He even truly real?  Now I became frustrated with my weakness.  It was holding me back.  Here, the Advocate was willing to put his very life on the line to help Jaymith and he didn't even know him.  Many times in the past I had told myself I would die for him, but now before the Advocate, in the presence of one so great, I realized the truth of myself.  I saw my weaknesses for what they were, but I also realized that somehow I was willing to go beyond them. At last I opened my eyes and raised them to the Advocate.  Still he sat another few moments in silence, his gaze now past me.  I hoped he would not change his mind about helping me.  Was I too weak?

      With each question he posed, he watched her responses, gauging the strength of her resolve, measuring the truth of her answers.  He saw her pain, and the frailty of her faith, and the greatness of her fear. Yet he also saw her resolve to face it all.  He saw a small reflection of himself in her: young, wounded, and afraid, but willing.  Still, he considered the ethics in leading such a wounded one in this faint-hope case, for it was clear that she was indeed placing all her hope in him as the savior in this mission and that troubled him; but he also considered the ethics of turning her out of this all together, which was a dead end.  She had heard all the risk and he had watched her wager the cost, and still she was truly willing.  He must proceed.

      "Alright," he said at last, shuffling the papers again, "This is the plan.  Our first step is to meet with the Prime Minister, though he has little power regarding this case. He is subject to the Union Officials on Bardekon.  That is our destination. But we must start here.  It is important to respect the ruling status in an appeal.
      After the Prime Minister refuses to assist us, we turn to the media to gain public interest.  My fame does not carry the weight we need to gain the level of interest necessary.  This is why we need your story.  The people need a personal connection to move their concern into action.  They need to feel as though they know you and your friend.  Then we ask them to support us, as we seek to save your friend, by gathering peacefully at the prison site when we go to meet him.  If we are successful, we should gain the attention of the Prime Minister, and eventually the Union Leaders on Bardekon. 
      Crowds can be unpredictable and dangerous, and we may be arrested for causing disturbance.  We may be punished, exiled, or killed. But if they are wise, we will have our chance to speak.  The Union Officials are always eager to look good in the eyes of the Universe."
      I almost thought I heard a note of distaste as he said this.
      "I have scheduled the meeting with the Prime Minister tomorrow, at midday.  I must apologize, but you should not leave from here on your own.  You should stay here."
      Shock seized me, but he went on to explain.
      "I have many enemies, more than just those opposed to my work, and any who associate with me become in danger also.  It is for your protection, that I ask you to stay."
      I relaxed, but my mind was a whir.
      "My associates will provide you with anything you need, from clothing to food.  I am sorry to tell you, but the process ahead will become much more uncomfortable.  You may, at any time, abandon this quest.  Do not concern yourself with me. I am decided." He paused looking past me and distant again for a moment. Then he brought his focus back to me.  "Is there anything you would like to say or ask?"
      I swallowed hard.  What could I say?  I was not only still in shock about having to stay, but that he permitted me to leave at any time with no regard for him at all.  I felt tears again, as I was so touched by his willingness to suffer for me and for Jaymith.  I must not abandon this quest.  I must not leave him to fight it alone.  I just looked back at him, filled with such awe and gratitude.  "No," I mustered in a whisper. "No, questions."
      "I realize this is a lot to receive at once.  I have prepared a list of apparel for the meeting tomorrow with some guidelines.  You are free to choose what you wish to wear, but I believe these suggestions to be the strongest in support of our cause," he handed me the sheet of paper.
      "If you are ready, Morshaht will show you to your quarters."
I stood, my mind still a whir, and he followed my lead.  He began placing the documents back neatly in the brief case and then he paused again looking at the leather bound book.  As he lifted it tenderly with one hand beneath and one upon it, he asked without looking up, "May I read this?"
      "Yes," I nodded. My voice was dry.
      Gently he placed it outside of the case and shut it, passing it back to me.  I took it, thanked him, and followed Morshaht to my quarters.

      Alone in the room he stood. Then he sat down with the book before him, still hesitant to open it.  Time passed in silence.  Finally he stood again, picked up the book ever so carefully, and took it to his quarters.