Chapter 20

The trial for Princess Lillian was to start in a few short days, and Amnon Saxe was running out of steam.  Keeping late-night strategy sessions with Keetha on how to subvert Chieftan Dol’s plans while also keeping his plan moving forward on time and under budget was taxing his nerves.  It was growing difficult to find the motivation to get up and into the office each day as if staying in bed was a secure fortress from all the dangers that would find him if he failed in his duties.  It was, in fact, the threat of death – not just the moment of death, but the almost certain painful path to death – that would be in store for him was from where the motivation would often arrive.

After he’d received the last transmission from Evan Gold, Amnon had destroyed the better seal device down to the smallest of fragments and then distributed small amounts of the debris in at least twenty receptacles to minimize it being traced back to him.  As he made his way to work, he constantly fought the urge to look over his shoulder or check his reflection to see if he was being followed.  If he were indeed being followed, checking would only confirm suspicions.  Why did Lillian pick him?  Why did he feel responsible?

Amnon walked past Keetha’s empty desk and wondered where she was.  The steaming cup and half-finished work let him know she had come in that day, but his nerves told him that she had been found out and was likely being interrogated and tortured for treason.  Swallowing hard, Amnon kept moving to his office.  It’s just another day, he told himself.  Don’t panic.

He opened his office door, and his heart fell into a pit.  A young prison guard stood from a chair and turned to Amnon.  Amnon resisted the urge to run away from certain capture.  He knew it wouldn’t take long for him to get caught.  Panicked people never have a logical plan.

“Director Saxe,” the young man started.

“What can I do for you?” Amnon said, making his way to his desk and trying to sound annoyed at the intrusion.

“I tried reaching Saw Yatha, but we haven’t been able to reach him.”

“About what?”

“The slaves, sir.”  The young man looked confused.

Amnon returned the look.

The young man’s eyes narrowed before saying, “Have you not been briefed on the salves that were picked up overnight?”

“I just got in,” Amnon said.  “No, I haven’t.  I don’t have slaves, so why should I care?”

The young man paused, choosing his words, “They… something is… off about them.”

“Out with it,” Amnon said.  It was clear the guard was not there to arrest him, and if not he was proving to be a nuisance.

“They arrived near Master Yatha’s home last night, but given that he hasn’t been home and he hasn’t acquired any slaves since he’s returned, we aren’t sure where they came from and if they belong to him.”

Amnon sat.

“It’s a man and woman.  They claim to be together.  They keep claiming that they know you, but, as you said, you don’t have slaves.”

“Can’t you lock them up with the other unstable workers?”

“They don’t look like slaves from the other realms, sir,” the young man continued.  “They have unconventional clothes, they speak with an odd accent.  The woman’s fetterseal matches Master Yatha’s signature, but the man’s is reversed.  Almost like its a forgery, but who would do that?”

“So, if Master Yatha didn’t fetch them, how do you think they arrived at his door?” Amnon asked.

“They say they touched the seals together, which is a way to do it, though most slaves are unaware of that feature, or if they are, they don’t often use it.”

Amnon stopped listening at, “touched the seals together,” and his heart fell into a pit for the second time that morning.  He forced a tight smile and asked, “How can I help?”

The young guard shifted his weight slightly.  “Well, sir, since we can’t get a hold of Master Yatha, and you’re the next ranking officer, we thought that you should, if you could, that is, come down and sort them out.”

Amnon was doing everything he could to stay seated and not run from the office.  “Do they have names?”

“Very strange names, sir.  The man goes by,” the guard had to pull out his decvice so he could remember the sounds, “Eevahngold, and the woman, forgive me, sir, these are, I’ll do what I can, “Catleengold.  I’m certain that’s wrong.  Do you see what I mean about the accent?  They don’t act like spies, but I suppose that how spies would act.” The man grinned at that thought.  “But they seem so disoriented, I can’t imagine what is really going on.  If you could just come with me I’m sure you’ll be able to sort them out.”

Amnon placed his hand over his mouth and rubbed his stubbled cheeks to keep his reactions in check.  Evan Gold was there.  But who was the woman, his relative?  How was it possible there were two fetterseals?  Had they said too much?  Was he about to walk into a trap?  His curiosity outweighed his dread and he stood saying, “Sure.  I can do that.”

The guard looked relieved.  “If you’ll follow me, then, sir.”  The young man headed out of the office and Amon quickly followed.

Soon, Amnon stood outside an interrogation room and the young guard opened the door.  There sat two of the most scared people Amnon had ever observed.  In the sterile room was a table, to which the couple was leashed and four chairs.  Amnon couldn’t see, but was aware that there were recording devices throughout the room and that there was no way to turn them off, so he had to be careful what he said and help the Golds to do the same. The guard had been discreet with how out of place the pair looked.  The hair, the clothes, the posture.  Nothing looked familiar or comfortable about them.  The only aspect that looked appropriate was the wide eyes of confusion and furrowed brows of desperation on their faces.  Amnon turned to the guard.  “Thank you.  I’ll take it from here.”

The guard nodded curtly and grabbed the door handle.  Amnon put his hand on the door, stopping it and causing the guard to look at him.  “Stay close by should I need anything.”  Another nod and the door was closed.  Amnon pulled out a chair and sat across the table from the couple.

“Your names are,” he looked at Evan, “Evan Gold and,” his eyes darted to the woman expecting her to end his sentence.

The woman mumbled something.

“I’m sorry.  I didn’t catch that.”

“Katherine,” she said a little louder.  Amnon heard the familiar vocal quake common to many in her position.

Amnon folded his hands in his lap and emptied his lungs.  For the first time in days, he wasn’t anxious or fearful.  The future had finally come to him, and come to him in a way that he could deal with it.  The simplest option was to make some false claims about them and lock them up for the rest of their natural lives.  The more merciful option would be to execute them quietly that morning.  Either of these options would end the possibility of Dol’s power coming down on him for treason.  He knew he would have to deal with the nagging guilt of sending to innocent forigners to their demise for the rest of his natural life, but he didn’t have a strong reason to have much empathy for them.  The harder option was to keep them alive and get them out of this prison, to find out what they knew and how to free Lillian, take down Dol, and free his people.  What was he thinking?  This wasn’t the harder option, this was the impossible option.

His mind flashed to his father working on some project at the house, looking at Amnon.  “We do the right thing, not because it’s easy, but because it’s right.”

Amnon emptied his lungs again and reached into his coat pocket.  He pulled out a small, clear datasheet and a scribe.  With the scribe, he scratched out some characters onto the sheet.  “I’m afraid I’ll need to keep you over for further investigation.”  He slid the datasheet to Evan who reached out for it.  “That will let you know what to do.  You’ll be kept as comfortable as possible, but I hope even you can understand the confusion your presence has caused many people.  Sit tight, and I’ll be around later to check on you.”

With that, Amnon scooted his chair back and he stood.  “I almost forgot.  My name is Amnon Saxe, Director of Prisions.”  He noticed the look of recognition on Evan’s face.  Amnon held up his hand and then pointed to the datasheet.  “That will answer your questions until I can come back.  As Director of Prisons, I’m sure you can understand, there is a lot I need to manage.  But we will talk soon.”

Amnon knocked twice on the door and instantly, it opened and he was greeted by the young guard.  “See that they have what they need,” Amnon said.  “I’ll be back later.  I need to have my assistant do some digging as to who they really belong to.  Thank you for bring this to my attention.  Until, I know more, I don’t think it would be good to distract Master Yatha with this.  Understood?”

“Understood,” the guard nodded.

Amnon gave a quick smile and then walked confidently away from the Golds.  As he made his way back to his office he started to feel faint.  He found a personal eliminaiton facility and locked the door inside.  He closed his eyes and began to get his emotions back under control.  The words came in whispers over his lips so only his ears heard, “Not because it’s easy, but because it’s right.  Not because it’s easy, but because it’s right.  Not because it’s easy, but because it’s right.”