Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

The King in Yellow

“I gave up on Veil’driel a long time ago.”

WARD

As before, there was no one to meet the Outriders when they passed the threshold into the immense main lobby of the mansion, but now there was the smell of a feast coming from somewhere. The scent of food had permeated the surroundings, much in the way the salt water air had when they passed through the illusory border of Terrill Silva.

The eerie sense of emptiness about the mansion was gone. Off from where the enticing aroma of food tortured their starving senses, there too was the clatter of moving dishes, and off in various directions came the occasional opening and closing of doors. There was the sound of voices and unseen goings on all around them.

There was life, as if someone had pulled a veil off the place.

“Wow,” Isabelle muttered, mostly to herself. Unlike the others, she was seeing this rotunda for the first time. Her attention floated to the double-tiered fountains flanking the entrance behind her, marveling at the thin domes of water with their reflection sparkling in her eyes.

Artemus Ward was not yet at the top of the central staircase, the same one Jace had run down moments before, but he was somewhere close; his presence preceded by his laughter fluttering down from a corridor above.

“It’s breathtaking,” Isabelle said, turning to Jace and looking up at him. He nodded, meaning to respond but hesitating when their eyes met. Isabelle only sighed, picking up on the conflict inside him as she always did.

Then the moment was interrupted by the sound of an opening door.

“Well then,” Artemus said cheerfully as he walked around the veranda. “Allow me to greet you more formally, Outriders of Veil’driel.”

He was staring down at them as he strutted around the perimeter towards the first flight of stairs on their right. But it wasn’t until he started down and drew closer that his broad, strong face and gently graying hair came into view. He was dressed as any common man, and carried himself in that manner. By his age at the time of his disappearance, he would have to be in his early fifties, but the resemblance he bore to the portraits of his youth was striking.

Just like Constable Thean, age suited him somehow, Jace thought.

“Welcome to Lornda Manor,” he said, shaking their hands one by one. He took his time in doing so, giving the distinct impression of studying them.

It was more real now, in the calmness of this grand room, without the burbling of the rushing water, and brashness of his sudden arrival, that this legendary Outrider was standing among them. He stepped back and crossed his arms just a few feet away. His focus was on Relic, who was staring at the fountains.

“Amazing, aren’t they?”

“Yes,” Relic acknowledged, looking over. “Particularly the precious stones at the bottom.”

“Amethysts, emeralds, rubies and sapphires,” Artemus said, walking to the edge of the closest one. The rest of the group followed, and soon all of them looking through the water. “Gemstones such as these serve a purpose here, as they once did throughout the world. Each has its own innate properties, as unique as the time and pressure that created them. You’ll find fountains to be quite common around the premises,” he said, looking about and gesturing lightly. “Siphoning in water from the sea. While some provide simple functions such as illumination at night, others, when configured correctly, are used for say ... purifying salt water.”

“Unbelievable,” Relic said, and he couldn’t help himself from leaning forward, closing his eyes and opening his mouth to sip from the top tier. Then he spit it out in a fury, back into the fountain.

“The stones in that one, however, serve only an aesthetic purpose.”

“Ahh,” Relic mused, trying to hide his embarrassment as he rubbed his sleeve over his tongue.

While Jace hardly reacted, Cedwyn couldn’t help but laugh.

Isabelle was more successful in concealing her amusement, uttering a compassionate awww before giggling.

“Come, we have much to discuss,” Artemus said. He motioned to the dining room as a slender man, wearing white, opened it up. The smell of the food intensified, so heavy around them it was as if the air itself became edible. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.” Artemus led them to the door, then stood aside when they reached it to let the Outriders go first. “There is tomato soup today, isn’t there, Charles?” he asked.

“Just as you requested, sir.”

Artemus nodded and smiled, turning back to the Outriders.

“Please,” he said, encouraging them to enter.

Isabelle was looking hard at Jace now, but he didn’t look back.

The dining room stole the breath of everyone entering for the first time, drawing their attention up to an amazing chandelier in the center of the ceiling. It was composed of delicate flutes of ivory-colored crystal, arranged in tiers that grew narrow as they traveled downward. At first, one was reminded of a great icicle, but on looking longer, the pristine yellow glow of the candles at the top seemed to cascade down and across the glowing surface. Like the water in the fountains the Outriders had seen before. The light spilled, clear and inviting, upon a long mahogany table set with beautiful glassware, porcelain, and many platters that were, at the moment, still protected by sterling covers. Baskets of breads and bouquets of decorative flowers were already visible, and the countless dishes hinted at a feast of truly enormous proportions.

Artemus Ward made his way to the end of the table, waiting for the Outriders to be seated before taking his chair. Then, much to Cedwyn’s surprise, he noticed a copy of Senator Bren’s most recent herald, sitting to the side of Artemus’ place, where one of his staff had left it for his attention. The only copy, out here on the edge of the provinces, should have been the one Lucas Reese delivered to Jace in the woods, and yet there it was: waiting for Artemus as if they were about to have this meal at a mansion in Fairlawn City.

Before he could speak, Charles reappeared at the head of a small group of servants, who began to uncover the food. Even Jace's mouth began to water, and he noticed his fellow Outriders leaning forward or exchanging glances as they saw, for the first time, what sort of fate awaited them. There was delicious roast ham, turkey, and beef. There was potatoes, gravy, stuffing. All manner of salads brought flashes of green to the table, while steaming bowls of pasta sat amidst trays filled with pools of red and white dressing and sauces. The centerpieces were built of exotic fruits of every color, standing around long-stemmed flowers of every hue. Silky puddings and finer chocolates than any of them had ever laid eyes on occupied trays alongside decanters of dark coffee, tea, and crystal-clear juices. But perhaps the most amazing thing took longer to notice, and sank in for each Outrider slowly, and at different times. The sheer variety of food, the number of things that were fine and foreign.

Charles stood for a moment, watching with a certain benevolent amusement as the Outriders took it all in. Artemus Ward's expression was less readable, but he sat comfortable, in control. The servant tapped a spoon against one of many wine glasses on the table, though the wine itself had yet to appear, and arrived while he was speaking.

“Lady and gentlemen,” said Charles, with a smile that came first for Isabelle, but then took them all in turn. “On behalf of Lornda Manor and its people, may I please propose a toast.” There was a pause while everyone reached for a nearby glass of some preferred drink, even Artemus. “To the young Outriders of Veil'driel and their auspicious visit,” said the dapper man. “May your time here be illuminating.”

Glasses clinked among the Outriders for the sake of form if nothing else, though their hunger in the face of such a magnificent banquet was almost paralyzing. For as long as any could remember, they had consumed only jerky, water, and what little could be foraged on their journey. Certainly Artemus was aware of this, and indeed, he seemed in some way to be allowing, rather than commanding, the display from his servant. In the next few moments, silverware was subtly laid before them.

“Charles is quite a toastmaster,” Artemus said, approving if a bit gruff. “A duty I no longer begrudge him at my age.” He took the herald and unfurled it, scanning it as the last of the knives, spoons, and forks were distributed to the guests. There was a sense that the entire scene, phenomenal as it was, had been the product of many hours work by many more people than they had yet seen, and that somehow, at this last appointed instant, it had fallen together according to plan and in the face of all odds. The Outriders could hardly consider it, though, as they finally began to eat.

“Hmmm,” Artemus mused, glancing up from his copy of Valiant Notions that he had begun reading with great intent. “It would seem you are no longer this conflict’s sole recipient of the Veil’driel Star, Mr. Dabriel.”

Jace, who was sitting next to Isabelle, raised his eyebrows at the news, having not yet read the herald himself

“No?” he asked. His tone suggested barely a passing interest.

“Indeed,” Artemus answered. He picked up a small tomato and popped it into his mouth, folding the herald so that only the story he was interested in was seen. Then he placed it back on the table, so he could read it as he ate.

Another member of Artemus’ staff entered then, two large pitchers of warm apple cider in hand, and he laid them on the table, having to move several others to make room. Charles had disappeared, but his orchestrating presence could still be felt.

“A Senior Bowman … Hawkins,” Artemus went on, pausing a moment to read the details before speaking again. “A member of your sharpshooter brigade.”

Jace smiled at the mention of the name, but none of the others noticed.

Artemus nodded slightly.

“Apparently ...” he started, sounding impressed. “Bowman Hawkins, at nearly the cost of his life,” he was reading from the herald now. “... single-handedly, and with conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity above and beyond the call of duty, performed actions allowing a convoy of the utmost importance to make its way through Bryce Valley and into the Kingdom of Sindell.”

Relic leaned forward.

“Sindell?” he asked, astonished.

Jace’s eyes were now fixed on Artemus as well.

“Sindell. Says it right here,” Artemus assured. "The powers attempting to hold sway over Ciridian control most of it, but Hamon, the capital that is, remains. Protected by their valiant airships, no doubt ... and what you might describe as a … force field of some kind.”

“You know this? How?” Isabelle spoke up.

“Because it was my master who helped devise it, centuries ago. For circumstances such as these as a matter of fact.”

“Your master,” Cedwyn said. “Jaden?”

“That’s right,” Artemus said, reaching forward and picking up a goblet of cider, taking a deep drink and then placing it down again. “Although that information is highly classified. So shhhh." He looked up then, holding Jace's gaze with a burning focus in his eyes. “In an operation made possible by your actions, as it happens. That one-man attack you launched, so eloquently recalled right here,” he motioned down to the herald with his goblet. “A few editions ago, that is. The Outriders one we all enjoyed so much. Made for fabulous bedtime reading, let me tell you. Valiant Notions, indeed, young man. Bravo.”

“It wasn't a one-man attack,” Jace said, sounding tired.

“I'm sorry?” Artemus asked.

Jace glanced over to Relic.

“I wasn’t alone,” he specified. Relic glanced up, and Jace gave a nod, as between equals, perhaps partly in memory of their scuffle.

“Oh, no need for reminders there.” Artemus centered his eyes on Relic. “No, I daresay you, son, played the biggest part of all. Confusing gypsy wagons, encounters with Raven, metaphysical adventures and the like. Or ... or, no, I'm sorry ... do you not remember? Or, perhaps ... perhaps it's just that you haven't discussed those headache-inducing exploits with your friends yet. Can't say I blame you. Where does one start, am I right? Any attempt to articulate such things, let alone reconcile with them can be exhausting, if not dangerous work." He picked the goblet up from the table and took a sip, watching a sea of stars and shadows over the pewter rim that only he could see. "No ... won't read about what you did in old Tillian's herald, young sir. But surely you're used to being unsung, and in the shadow of this one by now. Regardless, Mr. Avery, point being: I meant no offense.” he said, smiling lightly and gesturing to him with an open hand. Relic's jaw dropped slightly, but he said nothing, and the conversation flowed on. “Do you know Bowman Hawkins, Dabriel?”

“We’ve met,” Jace said. Unlike the others, he seemed impervious to being distracted. It felt like a test, a test that only he had been prepared for. Prepared for in another life, perhaps.

In a fairer—

Artemus nodded.

There was nothing obviously condescending about this man, but every question, every word he spoke had an odd ring that was difficult to describe. As if he already knew the answers to everything he asked. As if there was some underlying tension to everything he said.

“Yes. I see. Well, any road, it would appear you have some competition,” the mysterious man went on.

“You said your sharpshooter brigade,” Jace said, disregarding Artemus’ comment entirely, and even as his fellow Outriders ate around him, their focus remained on these two men.

A cyclone, Isabelle thought.

“Yes,” Artemus said, understanding Jace’s meaning full well. “I did.”

“It’s interesting,” Relic said, trying to make what he thought Jace’s point was, but in a gentler way. “All this talk of being the nation’s darling. At one time that was you, and you could be again. That is ... if the people of Veil’driel knew you were alive, they’d—”

Artemus smiled.

“No, son. Not me. I gave up on Veil’driel a long time ago. I’d wager she’s returned the favor.” He looked to pause, suspending a forkful of spinach in front of his mouth, reflecting, as if some thought at that moment reinforced what he was saying. Finally, he nodded, ate the food, and went on. “Blind allegiance to a plutocracy is no longer my forte.” Then he took a deep breath and his eyes surveyed all at the table. There was awkward silence. “No offense to present company, of course.”

Isabelle and Relic exchanged a glance.

“You keep saying that,” Jace said, his tone more snippy than Cedwyn could remember hearing in quite some time. It was as if the Jace of old had suddenly showed up and took a seat. “And, I mean ... no. How could we possibly take offense to that?”

Artemus raised his palm from the table and let it drop.

“I apologize if my words cause any discomfort,” he said, bouncing his gaze between all of them, acknowledging that they had. “I am, however, free to speak what I will. Do not forget that I was bleeding for Veil’driel since before you were born," he glanced to Cedwyn. "Or crawling. Many of the techniques you use, I pioneered.” He picked up the herald and gave it a little shake. “So please, save your sarcasm.”

“I’d be happy to,” Jace said without hesitation. “If you would tell us how you have a copy of a herald released throughout the Republic, when the nearest place you could get it is over six months’ ride from here.”

“Six months if you’re an Outrider on a mission of reconnaissance,” he corrected. “Significantly shortened if you’re riding straight on with no stops, as post riders do.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“No,” Artemus said. “I have not.”

At that moment, Artemus diverted his stare. The action was odd, and Jace followed his line of sight to see what he was so interested in. There, he found Relic holding a purple fruit in front of his face, his expression a mixture of intrigue and suspicion, strange to be sparked by a simple piece of produce.

“This ... is a dragon apple,” he said.

Artemus smiled, holding his gaze a long time before nodding.

“Yes. Ever see one before?”

Relic took to spinning it in his hand.

“No,” he said, holding the fruit motionless now, looking past it to Artemus. “I’d imagine most people from the Republic haven't. Because they only grow in Morrah, which is farther south than even the minotaur lands. And it’s fresh. Which should be impossible.” He placed it back down in the golden bowl he took it from.

Finishing the last bite off his plate, Artemus leaned back in his chair, nodding slowly and crossing his hands on his stomach.

“That fruit ...” He motioned to the parchment, still folded beside his plate. “Along with Senator Bren’s latest herald, are not the only things in this residence from around the world. But the means of their collection is beyond your understanding at present.” The Outriders hung on his every word, waiting at last for information of some substance. Artemus clearly enjoyed the anticipation, but then at last the corner of his mouth curved into a smile. “But I am not, as yet, at liberty to go any further.”

“Not at liberty?” Isabelle asked. “What’s stopping you?”

“Jaden for one. The Republic of Veil’driel, to a lesser extent,” he said, calm even in the face of what he knew would be heated scrutiny coming his way. Almost giving the impression that it amused him.

At this, Cedwyn became visibly agitated, annoyed enough to stand up.

“What do you mean you’re not at liberty because of the Republic? You couldn’t possibly have contact with Veil’driel. Jace is right, it’s time for answers, legend or—”

Jace cut him off, suddenly and unexpectedly, oddly calm even as Cedwyn was acting out the outburst that he himself had been on the verge of.

“I thought you don’t consider yourself a part of the Republic,” Jace said, “How could they order you to withhold information?”

Artemus rubbed his face, for the first time, looking annoyed.

It didn’t show in his tone, however.

“Jaden is working with Veil’driel. Cooperating with them, and so, then, am I. And to be perfectly honest—”

Suddenly, Artemus stopped, sitting up sharply from his relaxed position in the chair, and looking down, closing his eyes and clearing his throat.

None of the Outriders reacted, or more specifically, lacked the time to do so. The door Artemus’ help had used all along started to open. As it did, everything around Jace blurred into slow motion, so the door appeared to slow progressively until it was almost still.

Everything around him faded to black; suffocating, completely soundless black.

You have always had the mind of a cutthroat, Dorsey, but never the heart of one.

The heavy sound of his breath hammered in his ear, his heartbeat pounded like a deafening drum.

Get out of Mirror Lake and don’t look back.

The only thing that remained was Artemus, sitting the way he was, distressed, and the chair he was sitting in. Everything else gone. Then, slowly, he looked up. There was another flash of light, and when it faded, impossibly, the legendary man appeared young. Artemus was the young Outrider, Jace’s age, looking the way he did in all of the portraits, even wearing his Outrider cloak. It was how he looked in all the history books, only casual. Real. As if Jace had found a secret door leading back through almost three decades past. Jace found it hard to breathe, and then impossible altogether ...

If you don’t go now, you might never leave.

... but he couldn’t look away.

Lost ... lost ... I’ll get lost ... get lost ... forever.

There was no way to explain it.

“Your limitations ...”

Even, if at that moment, he was capable of conscious thought ... he would rather suffocate than look away.

Another flash, this one violet, and there was sound.

Jace was back in the present, and although he expected to gasp for breath, found that no one else had noticed whatever it was that just happened. Instead, everyone’s focus was fixed on the young woman who had entered through the door, apparently while Jace had been … gone.

Her hair was back and held up in a bun, and she wore the rough garb of a ranger. Obviously she was a scout, and she hunched over Artemus, leaning over his chair and whispering something into his ear. Afterward, he looked up to them.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to cut this lunch a bit short, as something has come up,” he said, standing. “And let me apologize for the moment of weakness there. I’ve been a bit under the weather of late. Nothing serious.”

“Wait a minute,” Isabelle said suddenly. She was wondering if Jace’s reservations about this man had not been far from the mark. “We’d like at least some explanation of what’s going on here. You can’t honestly expect us to just trust everything you’ve told us.”

“Point of fact, I can,” Artemus said simply. “With the aid of this,” he nodded over to the woman who immediately started over to Jace. He didn’t even notice she was in route until she was directly in front of him.

Your friend ...

She opened a small pack slung around her shoulder. “Allow me to present the reason for our earlier absence. As we were in the process of acquiring the means to ease your concern.”

Seems like he’s had enough.

The woman withdrew a pristine-looking book and handed it to him, but even in the short time they both touched it, there was another flash of light. Jace’s breath skipped violently, and he was back on the Fairlawn Thoroughfare on the night that had made him famous.

It was all so ... real.

He could feel the freezing air in his lungs, felt the chill of the winter night. He remembered this moment. He was staring into the metal face of the golden rider who had just tried to kill him, red robes flowing all around in the circle of arcane light from the crystal on its horse. It was in this moment that Jace felt a sturdy hand shake his shoulder, and was once again back to reality, both hands white-knuckled on the book. The woman was familiar, like a word on the tip of the tongue. Familiar like something out of a dream.

She had apparently let go during the episode, and exchanged what seemed a strange, amused look with Isabelle as she walked away.

This time, whatever had happened to Jace had been much more unpleasant, and unlike before, his friends had noticed.

Relic’s hand was on his shoulder, a sympathetic look in his eye.

“Steady now, son,” Artemus said, and whatever the truth, he appeared honestly concerned. Jace took an uneven breath and Isabelle touched his leg beneath the table. Slowly, he opened his eyes. “I’m afraid the method used to acquire that might have carried some … residual energies. Are you alright?” he asked, although any of the others could have. Isabelle was leaning closer to him, wondering the same thing, and Cedwyn was staring, transfixed as well.

Jace nodded, feeling the dull throb of a headache that vanished quickly, and his grip on the book loosened as he studied it.

He recognized the cover and opened it to the first page.

“All will be revealed to you tonight. From the lips of one of your own,” Artemus said, drawing everyone away from Jace to where he was now standing at the end of the table.

“If this is your attempt at intrigue,” said Cedwyn. “We’re not at all amused. I don’t know what you expect us to do until nightfall, but—”

He was startled when Jace spoke suddenly.

“That’s fine,” Jace said to Artemus, and then he glanced back to Cedwyn and the rest before looking back down. “It’s fine,” he repeated. The confusion this caused did not last long, as Artemus was speaking again.

“My people are at your disposal,” he said. “They will show you to your rooms as you wish, and in the meantime, make yourself at home. You’re free to roam at will. Please, eat and drink your fill, take a hot shower, or bath, or both if you like, and you'll be summoned when it's time.” He turned to the two others who had returned: Charles and the one who had not been introduced. “Let them finish, see to whatever they need,” then he turned to the table, full of food, and toward the woman who had handed the book to Jace. “Deliver the rest,” he told her, and she nodded. No one had to ask, as Artemus turned back to meet the Outriders’ curious eyes. “We send out loads of food to the local villages,” he explained. “I’m sure you scouted them out on your way to Terrill Silva.”

“Yes, we saw them,” Isabelle said, and narrowed her eyes. “They’re ...”

“Abandoned?” Artemus asked, smiling. He looked to Cedwyn and Jace. “Exactly as you found this place, then? Out here in the Tri-State, people have become quite skillful in the art of hiding themselves. Now, again, I really must depart.”

And without another word, he was gone.

The woman moved to follow Artemus out, but lingered at the door before passing through it. Jace did not look up, however, still staring down at the book. Relic, on the other hand, picked up on it, quickly looking to Isabelle to see if she had as well. She felt his eyes on her and turned to look at him. Relic had his answer by the sheepish way she returned his gaze before shifting her eyes away.

Artemus’ departure was as a weight off their shoulders, and Jace massaged the bridge of his nose. Charles and the other nodded to the Outriders, busying themselves with the cart before exiting the dining room on the main lobby side.

“Flashbacks again?” Cedwyn asked, concerned. They were common with him, especially in the more quiet time since Sandia, common to people who had symptoms of post-traumatic stress.

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess,” Jace said. “Just a lot more … vivid.”

“You okay?”

“Fine.”

“Because you were the most skeptical of us all, and you just let him off the hook when I pressed for more answers.”

Jace sighed, trying to slow down his mind.

“Yeah, because he’s telling the truth,” he said, handing the book to Cedwyn.

He opened it, eyes drawn to the inside cover.

“How can we be sure this isn’t a forgery?”

“Because I know his signature,” Jace said. Cedwyn looked down again to inspect it further on his own, only looking up again when Jace spoke. “And anyway, I just know.”

Relic walked to where Artemus had been sitting, and was holding the herald, unfolding it in his hands.

“This is definitely a real copy of Valiant Notions,” he said. “I don’t get it.” He lowered it back down to his side. “He’s got this herald, which hasn’t been distributed within hundreds of miles of here. He knows about our mission, and ..." He sighed and cleared his throat. "Other things. He has food on this table from all over Ciridian and possibly beyond.”

“So much for us being the cutting edge of Veil’driel’s information,” Isabelle said.

Relic nodded.

Now Cedwyn reached over the table and handed the book to Isabelle, and she glanced at the inside cover.

“Alley Cat?” she asked in stunned disbelief.

“Not sure I would address the legis by that nickname you have for him. At least not tonight. Not all of us know him the way you do,” Cedwyn said.

Isabelle looked up, her face wrinkled with the sarcasm that carried her words.

“Not sure I would address the legis by that nickname," she mocked, voice absurdly deep.

Cedwyn smiled as Relic sat back in his chair and started eating again, intending to read the account of Bowman Hawkins’ adventure in Bryce Valley, when he stumbled upon something else.

“Hey, look at this, Jace,” he said. “Arthur Sayre was promoted.”

Jace’s expression showed the name was familiar, but he didn’t know from where.

“That kid from the Unicorn Youth Brigade I told you about him? From the night we—”

Jace smiled lightly and nodded, but his thoughts were not in that room as he moved his hand up to bite his nails.

Relic’s mention of that night was the second time his mind was brought there in what felt like as many minutes.

“What are you thinking about?” Isabelle asked him, gently grabbing his wrist and guiding his nails away from his mouth.

There was a pause, and a moment where it appeared Jace would not respond. But then at a start his focus darted up to her, held her eyes a second, and then he looked around to the rest at the table.

“I don’t know,” he said. “That we should wait for tonight, I guess.”

“So we’re staying,” Isabelle said, confirming.

“Can you think of a reason not to?” he asked, and the question was not rhetorical.

Isabelle shrugged, taking one last glance at the book before laying it down.

“Well, he called the Republic a plutocracy,” she said. "And he didn't tell me about my mom like he promised."

She narrowed her eyes on him, waiting for him to smile.

Which he did, more sincerely than he had in some time.

“Yeah,” Jace acknowledged. “Those two unforgivable things aside, I think it’s worth the risk to find out what’s going on.” He looked at the food and then looked to Relic. “What do you think, Rel?”

Relic was staring at the dragon apple, looking far more relaxed and content than any of them could remember. As if some unseen, unbearable weight had been lifted from his shoulders ... or his mind.

He picked the fruit up again, and tossed it over to Jace.

“Yeah. I think we should stay,” he said, watching his friend catch it. He paused to check his pocketwatch a second and then put it back away. “Plus, I wanna get a look at that library as soon as possible.”

“And in the meantime?” Cedwyn asked.

The book the woman had handed Jace, which Isabelle had just put down, was still open, revealing the message from Legis Duchenne. It read simply: Trust him, and beneath was his signature and personal seal. The book itself was the latest he had written, entitled: A Vision of Patriotic Leadership. It had not yet, to any of their knowledge, even been printed.

“We hope to get answers,” Jace said, answering the question. “To sleep under a roof, in a bed ... to take a real shower for the first time in months.” He bit into a large roll and started helping himself to one of the many soups before him. Tomato was his favorite, and somehow Artemus had known that too. Made with lava rock filtration ... He had also taken notice of an orange bottle with clouded glass, but with effort, feigned disinterest. My absolute favorite, in fact. “And we finish this ridiculous lunch.”

STATIC

Chapter Four  (E) The Light-House #2190566 by Dan Hiestand