“How do you know?”
He opened the door. “Because he’s going to be very angry with me, and when he’s angry, he never waits long to make it known.”
“What did you do?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Lance, my boy!” A voice echoed up the staircase.
Miya squinted to see an elderly gentleman climb the stairs to meet them. The long braids in his white beard swayed with a different rhythm from the rest.
“Still alive, eh?” Lance slapped him on the back, his form embracing the smaller man.
“You’ve brought company.” He nudged Lance to the side and lifted his glasses to his nose. “Forgive me, my dear lady. I didn’t see you there.”
Miya tapped her foot. “I need to see Bale immediately. I’ve come with a business proposition.”
“Well, all right then.” He reached out a hand. “I’m Hakym. Welcome to our village. I understand you're a woman who doesn’t like to waste time, so let’s get to it.”
Hakym froze and studied her, despite having said that he wouldn’t waste her time.
“This is Miya,” Lance said when she didn’t respond. “We'll wait in the basement for Bale to call for us.”
Hakym stepped aside for them to descend. “Make yourself at home.”
They walked down to a dim room with bookshelves lining the walls. Miya ran her finger along the spine of a thick book and wiped away a layer of dust. This was a nice collection for a village of this size.
“Who are you exactly?” Miya asked, glancing down Hakym’s long blue robe.
“The last of my kind, I’m afraid. There used to be more like me, but they’ve all gone on to what comes next. Follow me.” So this one really bought into the True Followers deal.
He led Miya to a door on the west end of the room and into a dark hallway. Lance didn't join.
“I'm the Takja.” He lifted a key from a necklace tucked beneath the folds of his robes and unlocked the door. “Think of me as the teacher.”
Hakym flipped a switch, and light filled a room the size of a closet. Books packed the shelves and covered the room in tall stacks, all surrounding a lone desk with a pen and a blank volume opened on its surface. “We record our history here. The door is unlocked during your stay if you want to read. We have records of everything. You might find it interesting.”
What was this old man’s agenda? “I don’t like people who don't say what they mean.”
“I always say what I mean.” Hakym had a deep and raspy voice, one Miya wouldn’t necessarily call gentle, but quiet, nonetheless.
She traced one of the books. She could find her mother somewhere in here, couldn’t she?
“Who really runs things?” she asked. “You or Bale?”
“That’s a bit like asking whether man or God has more power in this world. If we have free will, it makes for a challenging question, does it not?”
“Don't be obnoxious. It looks to me like you have plenty of say here.” Her heart hardened. “Why did you let Lance go to Krowe's estate and get mixed up in the war?”
Hakym lowered his head.
“Suddenly you have nothing clever to say, old man?”
“I couldn’t stop it,” he said.
“You’re writing your people’s history, and you couldn’t keep Bale from sending a sweet guy like that into a war zone?”
“I chose to go.” Lance came into view. “If you’d asked, I would’ve told you. Bale wanted it, and it’s best for everyone.”
