"My real purpose, one would guess, was dawdling in the back of my mind while my brother and his family were doting on me."

I knew this would draw the Council out.

"Would you mind, Doctrex, bringing that dawdling purpose out in the open for us?" Gylo smiled.

"Oh, gentlemen, you don't know how much I want to tell you!  I know you’re busy.  I'm honored that you even invited me into your chambers today.  So, yes, I'm sorely tempted to lay it out in one simple sentence, and be done with it."  I paused to gauge their interest.  "But, gentlemen, if I did that without introducing you to just a little background, you would wonder that I bothered to tell you at all.  Rather, you would ask yourselves why I didn't just scrawl it on a sheet of paper and send it to you by way of a messenger."

"I understand exactly what the young man is saying," a stout, florid man exclaimed, breathing heavily, as though it were his last.

"Yes, we tend to hurry through everything, don't we?" Gylo agreed.  "We rush headlong to make our point, without realizing that our point could be made more cogently if we relaxed a little in framing it.  Please, Doctrex, take your time.  We are far less busy than you think."

"Thank you."  I glanced over to the water pitcher on a tray with three glasses around it.  "I'm wondering if I might help myself to a glass of water."

"How inhospitable of us!" Gylo said, blushing to the roots of his silver hair.

"Not at all," I assured him, but before I could reach for the pitcher another had snatched it off the tray, filling a goblet and nudging it across the table to me.  I thanked him and took a slow drink.  Then, holding the glass away from my face, I studied it.

"Gentlemen," I started, and set the goblet on the table, "the citizens of the Far South are represented, as are yours, by a council.  The council is appointed for life."  I watched the heads turn to Gylo.  He blinked but didn't say anything.  "I'm not being political.  I'm not judging.  I'm just making an observation.  Appointment for life can be excellent if the power is not centralist—that is if the council hasn't lost contact with its constituents."

I took a sip from the Goblet and put it back on the table, waiting for the words.  "Unfortunately that was not the case with the Council of the Far South.  There had been a mechanism in place that was designed to provide the Council with valuable feedback as to the spoken and unspoken needs of the constituents.  The various lesser bodies of service directly interacting with the citizenry—as my own did—were urged, in theory, to address concerns to the Council.  I say in theory because in actual practice doors of access were closed."

"Really!  That's interesting," Gylo said, thoughtfully.

"Now, as Chief Magistrate over a rather large geographical area, I observed regularly the physical and moral decline of those under my watch.  I've recognized, as I'm sure you have, gentlemen, that here is a close connection between physical and moral decline."  Heads were nodding.  That was good.  "Of course, I was too young to have witnessed, first hand, the disbanding of the militia.  But, there were many who were there and I interviewed a number of them.  It goes without saying, the money that goes into maintaining an active militia is considerable."

"Enormous," Gylo said.  "As we are discovering."

"So, when it was disbanded, there was an immediate surplus.  I'm told that much of the money was diverted to improvements—roads, recreational facilities, parks, beautification … all of which allowed for more jobs."

"That sounds laudable, Doctrex.  But, you said much of the money was diverted.  Where did the rest go?"

"Ah, gentlemen …" I said.  "I asked the same thing of those I interviewed.  You'll remember I told you ours was a centralist Council.  I was told it was winked at by many and accepted by most that there was a fair bit of nest-feathering going on.” 

"I see."

"Still, you may be wondering why I'm telling you this at all."

"Yes, do tell us, brother.  I'm even beginning to wonder myself," Klasco laughed, but he shared a quick glance at me that belied his laughter.

"Starting about a D ago, More than a few travelers, passing through or visiting Lumen, brought news of threats and chest-pounding of a cruel ruler in the Far Northern Province, the name of Glnot Rhuether.  It was rumored he was making ready for a campaign of conquest of all the provinces.  The word was that many of the provinces were reinstituting conscription, largely brought about through the leadership of your august Council of Twelve.  I'm telling you what I was hearing.  Yet, I also heard that most provinces were having a hard time of it, owing to the complacency the citizens had fallen into.  There was even a fear of rebellion, of overthrowing of the smaller council."

"Yes," Gylo said.  "We've heard of such discontent.  Go on."

"Well … because of my position as Chief Magistrate, my conscience wouldn't let me go any longer without bringing my observations and suggestions to the Council.  I used the proper protocol to get an audience with the Council, not on one, or two, but three occasions.  On the first two I was summarily rebuffed and by word passed down to their spokesman outside the chamber, was reminded that my position as Chief Magistrate did not provide me with insight into the affairs of the Council.  It seemed foolhardy, if not suicidal, to have the lawmakers and policymakers be in the dark about what was going on under their noses, so to speak.  Naively, perhaps, I believed that if the Council only knew the seriousness of the situation they would most surely take the right course of action to save the province.  On the occasion of my third attempt at presenting the matter to Council, I was relieved of my position as Chief Magistrate."

"That's unfortunate," said Gylo.  His eyes went from Klasco to me.  "And what did your brother think of this?"

"I didn't tell him."

"And, the reason you didn't tell him?"

"Yes," Klasco seconded.  "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Looking back at it, I should have," I said.  "Honestly, I'm afraid I misjudged your understanding, brother.  Before your colleagues, here, I offer you a public apology."

"But it doesn't explain why."

"I was afraid if I told you the entire story you would have been less than eager to bring me before your fellow Council members."

"I don't understand."

"We all know there is a brotherhood of professions.  Out of shared experiences there is, I'm sure, a brotherhood among artisans, and bakers and shoemakers.  I know there is a brotherhood of magistrates and other peacekeepers … and I would assume there is a brotherhood of Councils, as well."

"Assuming there is, Brother?"  His voice had an edge to it.

Well, don't you see … it may have appeared to you gentlemen that my only reason in coming here was to berate your brethren to the Far South.

Gylo looked first at me then at Klasco.  "Then, enlighten us as to your actual reason for being here."

I put the water glass to my lips, watching him over the rim.  "To petition the Council for my enlistment in the Kabeezan militia."

To a person, every face, but Klasco's, registered astonishment.

Gylo was smiling openly, as though he thought it was a joke, awaiting completion.  "In what capacity, Doctrex?"

I fixed my gaze, unblinking, on him.  "To fight side-by-side with other Kabeezan soldiers.  To push back the enemy.  To keep the Kabeezan soil safe."

Exchanging glances with the Council members, Gylo nodded, and then turned to me.  "Doctrex, if you would excuse the Council; you may wait out in the hallway.  It shouldn't take long.  Our receptionist will call you back in when we are ready.  Is that satisfactory?"

I said it was and, with another small bow, left the room.  The receptionist escorted me to the outside door and opened it for me.

"Thank you, Shamora," I said.

She seemed pleased that I remembered her name.
   
Out in the hallway I leaned against the wall and took in a few deep breaths.  I appraised my performance.  It was a performance!  I had been empowered, there was no doubt about it—but by whom? Or what?  I was being directed by an intelligence that was not my own.  It was too cogent to be denied.  I hoped it was Axtilla; that she was connecting with me from another dimension.  Nothing could surprise me about her powers.  She demonstrated healing powers, on me, most likely, though I had been unconscious, and certainly on herself.  She also had magical powers: with our first confrontation on the shore; she was facing me one moment and burrowing under the ground the next, ending up behind me.  Then, later, when I was hopelessly wedged in the narrow crevice , exiting the cave, there was the magical way she slid her hand between my back and the cave wall and with a mere movement of her hand up and down, was able to reduce the granite wall to powder, allowing me easy exit.  Her ability to learn the nuances of the English language within the course of about eight or nine hours was nothing short of supernatural.  Why would I not consider the feasibility of psychic communication?  Thought transference would be no more difficult than her other forms of magic.  I'm onto you, dear Axtilla.  The gig's up!  You might as well come right out and talk to me.  And, while you're at it, why not explain what you are trying to get me to do?

The door opened and I pulled away from the wall, standing erect.

"They will see you now, Mr. Braanz."  She held open the door.

"Thank you, Shamora."

All eyes were on me through the glass window as I crossed to the inside door, opened it and entered.  I took my place behind my chair.

"Have a seat," Gylo said.

I dipped my head slightly, and brought it back up, keeping my eyes all the while on Gylo.  I sat down.

"We have made a decision, Doctrex."

"I see."  

"We all concur that we don't want you side-by-side with the soldiers, even if you are protecting Kabeezan soil."

"I see," I said.  I turned my gaze to Klasco, briefly, to see him staring back at me stonily, and then back to Gylo.  "So you are rejecting my petition."

"Yes, I'm afraid we have to."

I stood up.  "Gentlemen," I said.

"No, please sit down, Doctrex.  We concur that it would be a tragic waste of experience and intelligence having you fight side-by-side with the soldiers."

I sat back down.

"We want you to lead the Kabeezan militia as their general."  He paused.  I kept my face unchanged in expression and waited to see if there was more.  "Do you accept our counter offer?  It's understandable if you want to consider it for a while?"

"I don't need to, gentlemen.  Your offer stunned me, momentarily, but I accept it."