Melva Gifford

This blog is a follow-up to the one last week where I’m discussing the virtues of children preforming programs in church. Last week, I touch upon the topic of teaching children organization by then preforming a program and next week I’ll touch upon the bonding advantages of a youth program.

I hope this topic can be of use to parents, grandparents, family counselors, youth ministries, and family devotionals. A lot of the confidence of the child and preforming in public begins in the opportunities they are given in the home. Family home evenings and family devotionals are excellent opportunities for children to learn to pray speak and saying before others. Each time a child can gain new experiences, they will be more comfortable in unfamiliar circumstances.

I can see a lot of advantages for giving children a chance to perform. During last week’s performance, I decide to document some of the virtues of such an event.

–        If a child can have experience while being young and speaking in family home evening a family devotional, they gain the experience to communicate before others while they are in a comfortable, home environment.

–        The sooner a child can experience new adventures and experiences to broaden their perspective, the more comfortable they can become in unfamiliar circumstances. I see that children performing in front on stage give an experience of memorization, speaking coherently and singing in front of the public. Many of these children have not yet attended elementary and so this experience can help prepare them for their public presentations in the scholastic arena.

–        At church, children can than they can become more comfortable in speaking before others by presenting talks at church. If they do this at least once a year. Each year, they will have several good practices of medication as they mature. The primary provides a safe environment being with other children and caring adults that can give them a sense of security.

–        Another advantage about having children practice in the communication is that this gives a chance to start a young child to pronounce words clearly, to not mumble, and to speak more slowly, so that their audience can understand what they are saying. Parents and teachers are usually the ones in the position to provide this kind of instruction.

–        A number of children in today’s performance still experienced too much stage fright to speak their part. This could be their first time speaking in front of a group of over 500 and be quite intimidating. But there is a caring adult crouched nearby the podium to help the child do their small talk of necessary speak on their behalf. Now that the child has had their first experience in being in public. It may be easier the second time.

–        Preforming successfully in front of public can also help a child’s self-esteem. They can learn that to practice things can become easier. Working as an organized group can help provide a successful program. Parents and family can validate the success of a child’s participation at home after the program.

–        Preparing for program provides a different technique of giving instructions of religious principles outside the Avenue of a teacher teaching in the classroom. One child teaching another child is another way to share an experience in performing in a program provides us environment.

If you would like to add some ideas of how youth programs in church or in other areas can help in a child’s development, I invite you to share those ideas in the comment section of this blog.

 

I read an article on How to eat organic on a budget. It had 75 suggestions and I’m sharing my favorites plus some other ideas from other source.

–        You can use Doritos chips as fire kindling

–        Freeze cookie dough and other treats so you can have a treat ready to go in the appropriate portion size.

–        A healthy alternatives to potato chips: baked apple slices, butterless air-popped popcorn or baked vegetable chips

–        To skip the full size packages of candy and chocolate. Buy a few pieces in the bulk section

–        Insert a straw inserted in the tab will prevent stray from bobbing up and down.

–        Don’t buy pre-washed ready to eat fruits and veggies, they can cost double as much.

–        Carbohydrates (bread, cereal, and crackers), and dairy products (yogurt, milk, and cheese) provide a magic combination when it comes to falling asleep

–        Store herbs, asparagus, spring onions upright in a large glass filled with an inch of water

–        Plant an herb pot in your kitchen or somewhere convenient so you can pick fresh herbs on hand. Organic herbs are one of the most overpriced items at the grocery store.

–        Double recipes and freeze leftovers, this works great with soups and stews.

–        When you chop onions while chewing gum it may prevent ou from crying.

–        To repel bugs, place a bay leaf in containers of rice, flour and pastas.

–        Foods to avoid when heading to  bed:

–        Foods that are high in protein are harder to digest, and spicy, garlicky and fatty foods can cause heartburn or indigestion.

–        Find a farmers market near you through LocalHarvest.org or the USDA – get to know your local farmers, create a personal relationship and negotiate prices.

–        Potato chips are carbohydrate-rich foods that when baked or fried, form acrylamide, a known cancer-inducing chemical that is also found in cigarette smoke

–        Line your refrigerator’s crisper drawer with paper towels to absorb excess moisture. They’ll absorb excess moisture which will help keep produce longer.

–        You Can spear an Oreo cookie with a fork in the middle and you can dip it in milk

–        Useful foods to help with sleep are milk, beans, mushrooms, nuts, seeds, eggs, fish, poultry, and bananas also contain tryptophan.

–        You can light a candle with a piece of spaghetti and prevent potential burn

–        Buy unpackaged foods from bulk dispensers – I personally save a ton of cash by doing this, I buy everything from oat grouts, to nuts, to dried fruit and lentils.

–        Local food can be significantly cheaper than food shipped from miles away.

–        Be the last person to leave the farmer’s market. Farmers will likely cut their prices at the end of the day, so they do not have to take their produce back to the farm

–        Separate an egg with only a water bottle. Press on bottle to suck out air, put egg over yoke and release bottle and it will pull up yoke into bottle.

–        Ask your farmer about his farming practices. Some farmers do not spray pesticides on their crops but do not seek USDA certification to keep prices lower

–        A drink or two at night may make it easier for you to fall asleep, but you’ll also be more likely to wake up during the night with a headache or a bad dream.

–        Turn almond butter, yogurt, sour cream, tahini and cottage cheese containers upside down when stored in the fridge – this creates a vacuum seal, keeping them fresh longer.

 

Klair barely kept his rage in check as he ran from the town. Only after the city markers did he sweep an arm before him and with a curse downed a huge pine. The great trunk shattered under the force of his magic and splinters went flying.

Its companion met a similar fate. His stomach rumbled and he ignored it.

He ran into the forest that neighbored the road marking his path with debris. Bigger trees shattered and large stones went flying. The air filled with havoc as birds and creatures fled from the tirade. He continued running, crying so hard he couldn’t see. A pounding in his head rattled his thoughts and blackness tugged at his mind but he pushed himself on. He paused briefly and threw up twice.

He started running again as branches tore at his arms and legs and was reciprocated in kind.

When a small pine made the mistake of being in his way, he gouged the earth with a slap of his hand uprooting the tree totally. His scalp buzzed and he let the irritation fuel his wrath. Fighting the looming unconsciousness, he suddenly stopped within a small and beautiful grove within a high concentration of trees. Very methodically, he slammed his palm toward each tree encircling him. Through a succession of rotations he downed them making the circle wider and wider around him. He bent over but only had dry heaves now.

Klair dropped to his knees and with a mighty slap, hit the earth. The ground buckled so fiercely he toppled over and several more trees tumbled.

He yelled up at the sky as he grabbed his hair and began yanking. Strands went flying and he scratched so hard he scalp and fingers bled. He bellowed, frantically looking for a new target. A bird screeched in fright and was so loud to Klair’s enhanced hearing he gripped his ears with bloodied hands. He fell to the ground sobbing as dirt caked his wet face. He gripped a collection of twigs so tightly they broke apart. Klair forced himself to stand but couldn’t see and he began to stumble. Certainly he had enough fury to fuel—Fight it! Fight! He crumpled to the earth as unconsciousness finally claimed him.

It was late afternoon when he woke. He was a mess and his head throbbed when he tried to move and his body shook with fever. This happens nearly every time you use too much… but I shouldn’t have to pass out each time, he complained. Useless, stupid, magic!

Getting up, Klair stumbled forward, forcing himself to ignore the shakes and fever as he took turns between running and walking, moving further and further away from Merrsain and throwing a succession of magical blows to shatter more trees. Dry heaves were much more painful than the alternative but his anger was not satisfied. Let the magic kill him for all he cared. He intended to appease his fury without further unconsciousness to get in the way. Build up my endurance mother? See my endurance!  For the most part he traveled in the denser parts of unoccupied forest to release his anger fully. When hunger pinched his belly he regretted not taking one of the parcels of supplies.

It was on the dusty paths of the deep woods, while he was searching for edible roots that he reached deep into a crevice and was bitten. “Sands,” Klair murmured, twisting his hand to shake off the sting and the result was a spit of swirling dust rising from the ground. He leaned back rubbing grit from his eyes. Did he just create a dust devil? His second try was intentional as he twisted his hand abruptly. The third dust devil was a good six steps in length and carried small twigs and dust. When it slammed into him, it coated his entire frame with dirt. Where was that fancy trick when I needed it against Trenny, he scolded himself.

The day’s tirade was not as intense as before and only determined pigheadedness spurred him on. Only hours later did he crumple to the earth in exhaustion.

Rage consumed him in the days that followed as he sought out any target. He narrowed his focus by spouts of concentration. His targets became fellow travelers along the road. Pebbles were placed precariously under a foot tripping more than one man. Off the trails he found and occasional homestead that acquired mysterious holes in their storage sheds with the contents of their wares spilled out to the elements. Klair only had to concentrate to make certain tasks reality and would walk deeper into the woods to pass out and wake up later to continue the tirade. At some homesteads, he would skip entirely and later in the day find fences to destroy and the feet of livestock stuck in the mud formed so hard, farmers and ranchers would have to get picks to dig them out. Streams were clogged by large stones redirecting their paths.

Most of the damage was in the dense forest with majestic trees shattered to kindling and an occasional homestead.

Waking up from the latest moment of unconsciousness Klair remained sprawled on the ground staring up into the sky. He played the gathering at the assembly hall in his mind. He wished he could recall individual faces but couldn’t remember details. “Ban both,” came to mind. Even Loginna rejects me and I thought we might eventually get together. She was just pretend only interested in me bedding her. Glad she never got what she wanted.

Maken, the man whom he most feared, was the most fair of all.

It took a six-day to travel from Shersheek province to Koova the capital of Terrang province. It took longer because of the sickness caused by high magic but each spout of magic lengthened the time between the magic and the payment for using it. In the spawn’s wake, fourteen homes became the dubious recipients of his anger. They experienced a series of toppled water bins, damaged fences or walls, and compromised irrigation systems.

The constant illness of the last few days of magic made it hard to keep anything down when he tried to eat. His mother taught him how to harvest from the woods but if he got any weaker, he wouldn’t have the energy. Being physically weak also brought a familiar depression. Klair continued to force his magic, finding it harder to crest his emotions to a sufficient level to fuel it. Ironically in his fury he learned more control in order to hit an intended target. After the day’s havoc, he’d lie in the dirt, panting in fever scratching at the welts on his scalp and rubbing his bloodied hair against the ground. Headaches became his constant companion.

The pain behind his eyes was so intense he would often end up in fetal position, whimpering. His growing sense of sight, hearing, touch,—increased as well and didn’t dissipate. Day and night he stayed awake from the constant sensory overload. The normal quiet of a mouse scampering amongst leaves became a storm of sound.

He staggered on a road now and the bouts of unconsciousness became his only rest. He once slept in the rain and woke up coughing and sniffling, his whole body shaking with the shivers.

Only after several days did the rage within him seep away. He woke to one chilly morning to look about him in complete calm until guilt blossomed within him. I did exactly what the people feared, he told himself. You’re as bad as the crazed wizards rumored to still wander around Hurric pass. See what you’ve done? He looked up into the canopied sky as he blinked at the water pooling in his eyes. You deserve to be banned from everywhere. You should be killed… How much did he destroy in his fury—proving him capable of Kapawn treachery?

You’re worse than the Seiun. They want to enslave everyone you just destroy people’s livelihood for no reason. You hurt your own land and your own people. Better to stop yourself now before you become a full monster. He patted around the tops of his boots. Tarrant taught him it was always useful to have a dagger in his boot for all kinds of uses. It helped harvest roots from the ground and now useful for slicing wrists, Klair thought. Shards! It was gone, sometime during yesterday’s rage. Now you’ve lost everything. A deepening depression settled upon him.

Alone. So alone.

He sat up and rocked while sitting on the ground, wishing the thundering pain in his head would dissipate.

I don’t know any of the people who I just hurt. The rages came so easily, his mother and Tarrant seemed to be the only ones who could constantly calm him. He clenched his mouth tight against the sob that threatened even as shame enveloped him.

He yelled at the world, slamming his fists against his legs and arms. Klair’s gaze settled on a large stone resting against a pine. Attention riveted, he lifted it up and it wobbled under his fleeing power. Move it closer, land on me, crush me. The stone was only a few steps from him. It’ll be the end—

Suddenly drained of all energy, Klair passed out and the stone dropped to the earth, just short of his head.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, Klair crossed a tilled field occupied by a series of plants including hop cones. Klair chewed on a wild carrot with one hand and held an onion with the other. The bright spring weather shined warmly upon him. The seed pods lining one furrow waved in the afternoon breeze. He staggered to a stop and dropped to the dusty earth.

The crop of Hop was still a distance away from him.

*****

He woke only a few hours ago, so why be so tired now? I need more sleep. Twice he used high magic to force himself to unconsciousness just to sleep against the enhanced hearing and smell. He never realized the forest to be so full of wild life until he could hear all of them, intent upon their unique tasks all at once. Klair wasn’t certain to what range his senses extended. How do wizards stand it? He wondered.

Klair heard of a wizard’s razor thin temper—now I know why.

His head buzzed and he leaned down in the furrow. “Nice warm sun,” he murmured and a good reason for traveling south rather than west to the nation of Blade. The continent held three nations; Anvil to the north, Fist to the southwest and the country of Blade to the southeast. Since the war between Anvil and Fist; Blade broke all communication with the warring nations. I suspect they wouldn’t even let me in through their borders.

The sudden sleepiness wasn’t natural. He looked around him. The Hop pods were in bloom. The air was slightly clouded from the concentrations of pollens.  Their fragrance… Mother uses them to help people sleep but I’m still far way they shouldn’t—

He forced himself to stand, lurching away. His smell so precise by their very presence… I’ve got to get out of here. Head nodding he pressed on, until he found a road and with a change of breeze. The buzzing in his head stopped and his head finally became clear again. No more headaches, he hoped.

*****

Only upon entering the city of Koova, crowded with people, did Klair permit true depression to settle about him.

I’m an outcast and with the damage I’ve done, I deserve to be banned.

Observers would see him as a wanderer, hair stringy about his face and shoulders as he walked the streets with no apparent destination. One of the village beggars rested a hand on his arm. “Have you come from an infected city?” the man whispered.

Klair wanted to ignore him. But any human contact was… “I’m from Merrsain.”

“Has it been hit?” He knew what the man was asking. He wouldn’t have, had he not seen Maken’s map and notes. The beggar wanted to know if Klair noticed any unexplained problems. We have ten missing hunters, he thought. Merrsain sent out a second party to investigate two six-days ago and Klair’s mother turned down his pleas to accompany them.

Ironic that a beggar new more of the challenges facing the entire nation than most the populace.

“Not yet,” Klair answered. How many know about what’s going on? On our leaders and we rift raft. Maybe since they were located on the outskirts of the continent closest to Monta Mountains they were some of the last to know of events occurring from the interior of the land.  

The stranger reached in a dirty bag, pulled out a dry half loaf of bread. He broke off a third and pressed it into Klair’s dirty hands. “Be safe,” the man murmured.

You don’t even know me yet you share your food—

“You too. Th-thank you.” Klair’s gaze followed him as the other lost himself amongst the crowd. He looked down at the first normal food he’d had for a six-day. Now a generous beggar sustained him.

I never asked him, where he was from. He held the bread close, warmed by the other’s compassion. The cold rain, two days ago washed much of the mud away from his rescue of the child at the canal. Save the child and I’m the one to pay the price, he thought. Klair pulled a hand through his disheveled hair which was splotched in various shades of brown and red from the last dying session. He sat against a wall and devoured the bread then rested a little before heading down the main street.  He looked about for the beggar thinking, I should ask him what he knows. The man was nowhere to be found.

On a second story of a nearby building, a homeowner draped colorful flags from her windows. Small siren whistles tied at the ends of the flags, acting as weights, caught the slight breeze and began a musical shrill. Their music sounded like an army of shrieking sirens. Klair wanted to yell, irritated, he raised his hand to.

NO! No. Stop attacking. These people didn’t ban you. He covered his ears hurrying further down the crowded street. I hate market day.

Koova’s village square was much larger than Merrsain’s. Some of the carts positioned around the rim no longer bore wheels but looked permanently implanted into the hard soil. Klair remembered last fall when a spice wagon arrived his village from Koova. His mother said the city’s chief export were spices and lumber and Barron, an herb which enabled all working Kindred women to avoid pregnancy while practicing their occupa­tion. No one ever bore a child while taking it with one exception: Klair.

What herb could prove stronger than a Kapawn wizard? The village of his conception would have executed her, had his mother not shown gave clear evidence of routinely taking Barron. It was a monthly ritual attended by the village elders and Kindred’s employers. Her pregnancy was blamed on a bad batch of the herb. She was banned. Had it not been for the mercy of the other Kindred letting her stay from place to place she may have starved. A midwife of the city who attended upon the Sheets agreed to let Norah be mentored as her assistant. Norah pursued her new occupation with a passion.

Klair shuffled down Koova’s rutted street, his feet through the rising dust. What did he care of his appearance now?

As he entered the market square, he heard an oath behind him and looked back. An old woman was struggling to lift a heavy parcel from the back of her wagon. The weathered wagon with bark peeling from the sides was loaded with similar sized bags and pots. The scents permeating from the wagon identified their content as all kinds of herbs. If the old woman can’t lift the big bags she should make them small. He continued to watch her labor as she held a parcel close to her chest as she lifted it from the wagon to carry it to a booth several feet away.

She should park the wagon closer so she doesn’t have to walk so far. He shook his head. He suddenly smelled the aroma of scent wood and smiled, thinking of his mother. The scene before him took on a new twist. What if this was my mother in her older years?

The woman returned to the wagon for a new parcel.

He stepped toward her, hearing himself asking. “Matron, may I help you?”

She looked up aged eyes widening at his intrusion, used to being ignored when labor needed to be done.  Klair stopped his advance, sensing her worry. He gentled his voice, extending a hand, “Matron, May I help you unload your wagon?”

“At what cost?” she countered.

Klair shook his head. “At no cost… for… for my mother’s honor, Matron.”

She stared at him and after a moment smiled, her gaze taking in his disheveled form. Her bleached hair combed back and braided in long strands. Her dress hung on her thin frame. “Come on then.”

Klair was soon by her side and gently took the parcel from her arms. She nodded to his act, head wobbly.

“Call me Gram, boy. Ya got some muscles on ya so apparently you’ve worked before.” She patted the old wagon. “Help me safely move my pods over there,” her wrinkled hand pointed to a series of shelves a dozen steps away, “and I’ll buy your breakfast.” She squint­ed at him. “Can you work boy?”

“I can work.”

Again the cackle. “Then get on with it.”

Klair carried the bag to the stall, pinching his noise from the smell of the parcel when he rested it on a table. “What’s the stench?”

“I sell herbs. What you smell? Garlic boy, garlic. It may stink as sin but nothing better to spice up the cooking.”

Two days ago was the last time he used magic so he felt a slight lessening of the sensory overload. I might be able to sleep tonight. It took over a span to transfer the bags and bowls of the white-balled herb and other seasonings to their new destination. Granny con­tributed a great deal of scolding to ensure the items were lined up just right on the shelves. Curiously, he felt a series of strange sensations as he handled the individual pots. Was he having an allergic reaction to herbs? One made him feel sleepy, another seemed to slow his movements, and a third gave him renewed strength. Why would they affect him so? They looked and smelled like normal herbs. It made him think of the hop pods from yesterday. Are all herbs going to bother me now? Could I have slept to death, he wondered. At that moment, that thought didn’t sound like too bad of a possibility.

“When we gonna eat,” Klair asked, his diction falling easily to match the old woman’s.

She merely cackled, a sharp pitter-patter on his ears, “When the chores are done.” She pointed a wrinkled finger toward to the wagon, “sweep up the wagon and put it all in this bag.” She threw him a weathered cloth sack; the bottom end tied in a big knot.

Klair began untying the knot.

The women yanked the bag away. “What ya doing? Keep the bag as is, as is.”

Klair nodded, yanked the bag back and headed for the wagon.

Granny’s laughter followed him. “Catch on pretty good, boy,” she said.

Klair used a worn hay broom to sweep the wagon coughing from the dust by the time he finished. He felt suddenly sleepy which was quickly replaced with a surge of energy. They were similar sensations he felt in the hoppy field but to a smaller degree. Hopefully, it was just the weariness from six days of travel that made him more vulnerable to the effects of herbs?

Granny rearranged all the bottles and bags and the assort­ment made a pleasant display. She threw him a copper. “Eat well boy. Be here after market and maybe you can earn your supper.”

Klair took the copper and grinned.

She’s pretty gutsy to trust him like that. As he left her as she started yelling out the price of her wares, her voice mixing with those of her neighbors. Her tone was a little more chipper which he suspected may have been aided by him helping her.

Klair explored his options before buying his breakfast. He didn’t know when he’d earn money again and though the frying Kidder smelled irresistible, he opted for bread. A copper would give him two days’ worth.  Music filled the square from the center stage positioned on the far corner of the clearing. While he sat under one of the center’s shade trees he noticed the performers. Someone had transformed a wagon into a stage.

With the enhanced sight, it was easy to watch the performance from the comfort of the shade of the east buildings. Behind the performers stood a tall, thin man with a thick beard hung down his chest. The beard was braided, intertwined with green willows.

Klair stared. He never seen a beard so long and decorated. The merchant wove some kind of slick mat. Strangely, he didn’t call out as loudly as some of his companions, but there were people standing at his wagon looking at his mats. Curious, Klair stood up from the wall and approached the merchant.

He handled the slick willowy mat. It was pliable to the touch but plain. He looked up at the merchant who studied him. “What is their purpose?” Klair asked.

The man studied him only briefly. “You use these mats in place of the twined rushes to sit or sleep on.”

Klair pressed the pliable tubing between his long fingers.

The man thumbed a very thin mat draped against his leg. “These are best for floors to block the cold. Some have even said their homes are warmer because of them.”

“And smellier in summer,” Klair countered.

“Take them out and put in fresh summer mats,” the man countered with a grin. “Are you trying to appren­tice?”

Klair paused. He hadn’t thought to make such request, but quick scrutiny showed the man to be alone. “You have no children?”

The man looked to the ground and spat upon it. “Both of my sons died in the Kapawn/Seiun wars sixteen years ago.”

Klair added his spit.

The other grunted in appreciation and extended a hand of friendship of Klair. “Name’s Nallock.”

“Klair,” they briefly touched the backs of their palms together.

“I have no son to offer my business. My daughter has already married. I will employ you for a six-day.”

“I don’t know if I want to be a mat maker,” Klair admitted.

The weaver nodded. “You’re honest.” He looked at the pile of willows resting on the bed of his wagon. “It’s high season. You look like you need money and I need a second pair of hands, even if only for a six-day.”

Klair nodded, his mood lightening for the first time since leave Merrsain. He likes to talk, that means I won’t have to. He seems nice enough. He pressed his fist against the wood plating of the wagon. He offered two short knocks with his knuckles. “Done,” he said

Nallock placed his fist near Klair’s and gave two additional knocks confirming the contract: “Done.”

Could this be my new home? Klair wondered.

 

Chapter Four

 

“Today, the canals finally open,” Norah said, as her gaze moved from Klair to Scov as the two of them mounted the miner’s wagon. Two Six-days passed since last visiting the mountain side. This evening his mother would be publicly betrothed to Scov for he responded well to Klair’s identity. Stating only, “That explains a lot.” The road was busy as neighbors shouted out greetings to one another as they all headed west of the village.

Klair never saw his mother so happy and Scov bore energy in his step he found contagious. Klair spent every other day apprenticing in the mines with his new mentor, and the other working on the canals. In a half a year he would be sixteen and corded as a miner.

The confrontation with the Constable seemed to have happened ages ago.

Everyone gathered at the terraces from the village and many from neighboring villages. All interested to see the workings of the new watering system. People hollered and clapped as the water poured out of the opened holes to splatter into the groves of soil beneath.

A turn of the wheel in the distance and more water flowed into a second barrel, directing another flow. The second series of pipes contained several wood slates inserted throughout at strategic points to stop the water’s descent so the canals could fill to their maximum and giving the workers time to check for leaks.

Runners paced themselves beneath each juncture and after testing each pipe, the wood slots were removed to let the water flow further down the canal. With a steady beat of workers’ stick against stick, the rhythm rose to a crescendo. The pace in­creased as the water reached further and further through the pipework. The noise was deafening!

Klair grinned, his heart pounding with a shared excitement. Here he stood amidst friends and family. He never felt so happy.

A sudden grip on his collar from behind yanked him off the wagon. His mother cried out as Klair landed on hard ground next to the front wheel. Constable Trenny loomed over him. “Think you got it good, boy?”

“What are you doing, Constable?” his mother hollered from behind. Her voice nearly drowned out amongst the din of the crowd.

Constable Trenny ignored her. He leaned down and gripped the front of Klair’s brown tunic.  The stench of wine fouling Trenny’s breath made Klair grimace. “You thought you were being smart, stealing Kella’s pigs eh? Well I caught you and I accuse you.”

Klair tried to pull away but the Constable’s grip was too tight. The back of Klair’s heels dug narrow trenches in the dirt in his efforts to move away. “What you talking about!”

Trenny shoved Klair harder against the ground, knocking the wind out of him. Klair glared back at the Constable while some of those standing near turned their attention to the commotion. “Stole some bacon for your Mother, I reckon,” Trenny accused.

“I stole no pigs.”

“We’ll see.”

“When were the pigs taken?” His mother asked. But the Constable still ignored her. Klair pressed his lips with sudden realization. He wants to hurt Ma and Scov isn’t here. Fury suddenly consumed him and his panic flared. With magic behind him, Klair clenched his fist and swung. Trenny’s body went flying and he was laid out flat. The Constable hit the ground so hard his body made an impression in the dirt, giving Klair a chance to stand. “If you accuse me, accuse me right and show proof.”

Klair paused to see if he was going to react to his use of magic, but no bodily reactions haunted him.

Trenny’s eyes blazed. “You need sense beat into you boy and I’m going to be the one to do it.”

“Hey Constable,” someone said. Trenny ignored all of them. The beat of wood was rising to a roar and hollers were directed to the drenching of ditches of the lower fields.

Trenny rose to his feet and Klair stepped back. A mother’s sudden cry pierced the noise and all eyes turned to see a young child sitting precariously close to an open ditch on the far side of the maze. All the runners were too far away to rescue the child. Unbeknownst to his mother, he climbed up several terraces lining the hillside and was walking through the next trench soon to fill with water.

“My baby!” she cried.

Klair and Trenny froze and every­one else stared in sudden terror. Being the closest to the child, both Trenny and Klair started bounding up the mountain. Others began following but they were further away and the soil was loose and easily sifted beneath their feet.

“I’ll get him!” Trenny hollered, pumping his legs through the dirt; Klair’s longer legs enabled him to rush ahead as he leapt into the ditch.

The water suddenly poured from above and the child squealed as he toppled into the ditch. The water flooded the small ravine in a torrent as the small child was shoved down the trench, his small fists futilely grasping at the sides. The child began gasping for air as dark water pooling above small shoulders and head.

Klair grabbed for a hand, but the child went under and Klair slipped and fell into the trench and was immediately covered with water. The mother screamed, scrambling up the embankment. Trenny threw himself at the post supporting the canal near the child. His intent was obvious: Dislodge the canal, misdirect the water and he could save the child. Klair rose out of the water, sputtering, and his whole lower body was encased in mud as he rose from the trench and followed the path of water to find by touch the submerged child. He kept slipping. The second hit of the Constable’s shoulder against the post was so loud it echoed.

It didn’t budge.

Klair mustered his energy and swung his hand toward the obstinate post. He centered his attention at the base where Trenny’s spread-eagled his legs in an effort for traction. The post snapped under the force of Klair’s magic and with support suddenly gone, the log carrying the water dipped and the torrent of water gushed out over the side.

The people gasped as splinters of wood went flying. With the sudden lack of support, the section of canal broke entire­ly spewing water onto the ground.

Klair waded through the mud further along the hill, franti­cally searching for any sign of the child. With a scoop of his hand in air before him, he directed his mind to the lower wall of the trench. His thoughts became reality and mud was shoveled away. Klair’s scalp tingled and itched. He pressed on.

The frantic scream of the child raised from the mud some ten steps away as the water and gunk filtered away imaginary fingers. Klair finally saw the small form suspended in air sputtering and kicking up a storm. When he reached him, the child gripped Klair’s neck so tightly it was hard to breath. Klair held the hollering youngster close as others advanced.

The yelling and screaming had suddenly turned silent.

A perusal of the crowed below him, revealed their shocked expressions. They all witnessed what he did, his hand movement to shatter the post, his scooping to misdirect the mud and water. He was fully encased in mud with a child screaming in his ear and the people looking at him in open awe.

“Kapawn spawn,” one of them murmured.

The accusation echoed throughout the crowd. “Kapawn.”

“Kapawn.”

“Wizard.”

Klair leaned over and threw up, twice still holding the child. He leaned against one of the still upright posts, his body trembling from using his magic. At least by dispelling his sickness quickly he wouldn’t pass out. He lowered his head, sagging into the mud as he closed his eyes then blinked furiously to prevent the hint of tears from flowed hotly against his muddied lids.

*****

“It’s obvious he can’t stay,” Trenny told the assembly. The Constable was answered by somber silence. The elders stood in the inner circle, then first families, clear out to the borders of the assembly hall filled of villag­ers. Klair, Scov, Norah and Trenny stood center. The crowd of the people heated the room quickly making, to Klair, a sense of oppressive closeness.

“He saved my son’s life,” The mother of the errant child said as she hugged the sleeping form close. “That alone–”

“Means nothing!” Trenny countered.   The Constable glared at the assembly. “Everyone saw what he did. With such magic isn’t it obvious he is manipulating us, trying to gain our favor?”

“He’s succeeded,” someone said.

“He destroyed the canal.” Trenny yelled back.

“You both helped destroy it, Constable,” Scov interjected, “because you both tried to save the life of the child. Both of you should be commended not accused.”

“Agreed,” Elder Maken said.

“But consider all unaccounted thefts, or mischief. What of his little campaign through our water system.” Trenny walked around the inner circle, beseeching his listeners with a firm glare. “Some of the crimes have been so mysterious.”

“Certainly you don’t plan to blame Klair for any of it,” Klair’s mother said. She stood, not as tall as the Constable but possessed with just as much fervor. “My son does not steal.”

The Constable whirled at her, eyes burning. “You should have been open with the elders.” He shook his finger at her. “You intentionally misrepresented Klair.” His gaze included the room. “What else?” he challenged.

Norah stepped forward her voice directed to the people as well as the elders. “I needed a home for my son. What would have happened had I told you from the beginning? I would have been told to move on.” She shook her head. “I needed to prove to you first that–”

“As I said,” Trenny interrupted. “Mother and son both intended to manipulate us.”

Norah glared at him. “My son has no wish to be a wizard.”

“Then he should not have been using his magic.” Trenny said glaring at the silent Klair.

His mother stood defiant. “Not even to save a child’s life?” she countered.

The Constable jerked a hand toward Klair. “Have you nothing to say for yourself?”

Klair pointed to the sleeping child. “What needs to be said?” He folded his arms defiantly. “Anything I have done has been for the good of the village. Have I not always done my part to—”

“Oh yes, grateful villagers under the protection of your power until we earn your wrath, what then, especially if you’re the spawn of one of those crazed Kapawn.” Trenny pointed an accusatory finger at Klair. “We are familiar with the fierce Kapawn magic. Perhaps that is the very source of what ails our land.” The elders of the room shifted uncomfortably. A reference to the Maken’s map and the cries for help throughout their nation? Klair wondered. So he was aware of it. So much for keeping the secret but what made him think the collections of problems was magic based? The Kapawn are Fist’s allies. I didn’t think the Fist has magic users. “Anvil has made peace with us,” Klair countered.  

Trenny jabbed a finger. “A treaty of fear–that’s not a stable treaty.” The Constable’s smirk encompassed everyone. “Can we truly risk the protection of our homes waiting upon Klair’s displeasure?”

“I’m not even trained.” Klair defended.

“All the more reason to ban you.”

“Trenny, you accuse this boy out of jealousy for his mother,” Maken said, standing.

“And you do it for her favor.” Constable Trenny countered making several of the townspeople snicker and the Constable frowned. An error on his part as the councilman of the city showed no inter­est in Norah. He was a happily married man, added to the fact Klair’s mother no longer followed the Kindred profession. The Constable folded his arms and glowered.

Elder Maken ignored the jibe. “Merrsain’s midwife told me of your accusation of the pigs being stolen from Kella and you state that Klair was the thief.” The elder turned to an old woman sitting on the sidelines. “Tell us what you know.”

“My pigs were missing,” Kella agreed her aged voice scratchy as she addressed the assembly. “But my son has them trained to squeal when he blows his whistle. He went on search whistling, and found them caged in a makeshift shelter in a dense section of the woods on the far side of the canals. He brought them back.”

“Whose home were they near?” The older woman hesitated. “Testify fully, Kella,” Maken warned.

“Cou-Constable Trenny’s.” she murmured, looking nervously at the officer.

The assembly murmured, and the Elder faced Trenny directly. “Your title as Constable is removed, Trenny. I state third warning for the theft of Kella’s pigs and fourth warning for the blaming of an innocent.” The uproar from the townspeople at each announcement rose in volume until Maken lifted his hand for silence. No one knew of so many testimonies charged against one person in such quick succession.

“A decision does need to be made,” another elder said.

“Ban Trenny,” a voice said.

“Ban Klair.” Another countered.

“Ban both,” said a third. The voice was familiar. Klair looked over at the Jessi twins. It was Loginna. He stared at her as she glared at him with arms folded. Does she think I bewitched her? Klair’s glanced amongst the assembly, not seeing the looks of acceptance amongst the majority. He looked back at his mother being held within the protective embrace of the miner.

“Two thirds majority vote, wins,” Maken, said. “We’ll vote first Trenny’s judgment than Klair’s.

Klair stepped away from the circle. “You won’t have to vote, but my mother stays. I’m leaving.”

“No,” Scov, Norah and Maken spoke in unison. Maken calmly walked over to Klair. “You are not yet a man, Klair.”

He turned away, blinking back the moisture in his eyes. He would have to leave soon before he broke all self-control. “Apparently my magic makes me a man.” Klair said walking through the standing villagers.

His mother moved to follow but Scov held her back. “It is his decision,” the miner said but he looked beseechingly at Elder Maken.   Maken looked back at them only briefly before staring after Klair. “Return home in a year, Klair.” Maken said.

“A year,” the elders decreed.

“A year,” the assembly echoed.

Klair left the room not waiting to learn of the fate of the constable. He ignored the two travel parcels placed at the door, left there dependent upon a negative or judgment. Each contained two six-days of supplies and given to any individual banned from a city.

His mother’s was weeping as Klair stalked out of the hall.

I have always had a hard time with this one.

Bad: spcatti

Good: spaghetti

We’ll see if this will help. If you eat too much SPAghetti. You may not have a nice body to visit the spa. And you may need to GhET (get help) getting into shape again. Thus SPA-GhETti.

If you have a better idea on how one might help with this word, please share. Thanks.

 

Chilly air encircled them when later in the afternoon, Norah and Klair walked arm in arm toward village center. Today promised to provide a good profit for their collection of bundles as it was caravan day. Their success would depend upon how much the out of town merchants hiked up the cost of their wares. With all the problems around the country I now know why.

Village center was a hubbub of activity as cart, horse and villager gathered together. Painted gnu hides hung from several second floor porches lining the main road and with price markings. Klair studied one colorful scene depicting two armies facing each other at Hurric pass. Seiun Priests, the leaders of the nation of Anvil were dressed in colorful robes with various sized chakrams and knives strewn about each figure. Behind them were rows and rows of armored soldiers. Opposite them in the valley, stood Kapawn wizards adorned in simple clothing with black sheets of hair flowing in the wind with raised hands glowing with power. Seeing the difference in number between the two forces displayed in the illustration, one would expect a slaughter.

The Kapawn almost didn’t win, Klair thought.

The streets of Merrsain arranged in circular rings, started at the main water well and Village center, branching out like pond waves. Side streets positioned like jagged spokes of a wheel connected the circles. It was a pattern practiced by all towns and villages within Fist as it hindered potential attacks of an army and easy pillaging.

“The price of coal is going to drop as it gets warmer,” His mother said, interrupting Klair’s thoughts. She’s thinking about Scov again, He thought. If they get together, I’ll apprentice as a miner.

Several children ran past them, chasing one another. The younger kids with faces covered with clay chased the older waving their fingers near their ears and yelling, “Hurrisick Hurrisick,” The older kids screamed in mock horror. Crazy wizards indeed, Klair thought.

In the distance, they heard: “Norah Lee!”

They looked up to see Constable Trenny straddling a brown horse next to the water well. They were still a ways away from center. Klair’s enhanced vision permitted him to see the mare drink from a bucket posted on the rock wall circling the well. An old woman, the obvious owner of the bucket, tried to pull it away from the horse but the mare and its rider ignored her. Beyond the well were several shoppers yelling at a wagon master which was completely ignored by the mounted officer.

“Constable Trenny,” Norah called back, her voice barely heard above the din of bargaining and livestock. She increased her pace as Klair watched the Constable prod his horse forward; succeeding in toppling over the old woman’s water. Now she’d have to get in line again to refill her bucket.

His mother casually turned, leading the two of them down the nearest side street.

They started to jog. If luck held, they’d make their turn at the second home before the Constable reached them. Klair remembered when he first met the man, three years ago, when Trenny made an offer to his mother: “Hire as Kindred again. I’ll help you.”

“But I’m happy as a midwife.”

“Kindred is your calling,” He insisted. “It could increase your boy’s apprenticeships.”

“Healing is now my craft,” Norah countered. Now, in the present, they ran to avoid him.

“He wants to bed you,” Klair complained as they rushed down the street.

“I know.” They reached the turn in the road and hurried on. If mother was Kindred, Trenny would be an annoying customer. Thank goodness she’s turned down his marriage proposals. Klair had no wish to be an apprentice to the man. In an act of inspiration, Klair pulled his mother through a broken door of an abandoned home. They rushed through the dusty room to the door on the opposite side and one street over.

She grinned at him with appreciation as they walked more casually to Village center, only to be greeted with: “Noon, Norah, Klair.” They stopped to greet the broad form of Scov, chief miner of Merrsain. He looked down at them from the seat of his wagon.

His mother’s smile came more naturally this time. “Morn, Scov. It’s good to see you.”

“And you.” The miner answered, his gaze brightening. He drew his wagon of coal to a stop on the side of the street, set the brake and climbed off. Klair’s mother approached him and rested her arm on his. Klair stood silently behind holding both their baskets. The whinny of a horse announced the Constable’s arrival and Trenny glared down at the sight of Scov and Norah standing close. Klair looked back at the Constable and grinned. He knows we evaded him.

“You find something funny, boy?” Trenny asked sternly.

Klair shook his head, noticing how the sun’s glare silhouetted around the Constable’s head. Klair pointed at the sky, blinking. “Sun,” he lied.

Trenny turned around, and raised his arm to combat the glare. He grunted. Face still sour, he kicked his mount on. “Later Norah,” and rode back to the well. The two of them visibly relaxed. His mother left the miner’s side and went to the head of Scov’s wagon to pet his horse.

Scov stared after her but remained standing next to Klair. “What’s wrong?”

“Constable Trenny’s attention,” Klair answered.

The man nodded as the two of them watched Scov’s horse leaned its head close to his mother’s touch. “Well I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that–”

“She likes you Scov,” Klair admitted. .

Scov grinned at the admission. “Well maybe after I sell a full season’s worth of coal—” She returned to them and tugged at Scov’s arm, her smile in her eyes. With a nod from the miner, Klair mounted the wagon and released the brake. His mother and Scov continued down the side street toward center with Klair, horse and wagon trailing behind. Scov stopped at one end of the clearing and directed the wagon so one side faced the crowd. Klair set the brake while Scov pulled the tarp away from the painted wall. The images on the wood advertised his price. Several villagers in the crowd noted the miner and his mother’s arrival and started forward.

The fight between two villagers and the visiting wagon master was escalating. One heavy set man complained, “You keep raising your prices. You have no reason other than greed when you know we need your seed.”

The visiting merchant stood with arms folded. “Be glad I’m here, other villages have their own worries and I haven’t broken even for this trip. I need to feed my family too you know.” He pointed to the bed of the wagon. “Our harvest is low and I wonder if it’s worth coming to Merrsain.” Glancing at his wagon, Klair noticed that it wasn’t as loaded as he remembered and it’s only the first day of market.

“Every out sider is raising their prices, it’s a conspiracy,” a woman said.

“It’s lean times, everywhere we go,” the visitor countered. “See if you can find better prices elsewhere.” He might be from one of the towns whose hurting, Klair thought. Why doesn’t he admit to what’s really happening? He’s keeping it a secret like everyone else.  He glanced about the market to every other visiting merchant. Some loads of wears looked depleted with owner faces drawn tight in silent worry. Problems are starting to spill over to Merrsain and I never realized it. What can I do? He looked about the square realizing that there were fewer wagons. Klair glanced at the miner who stood near him. Maybe I’ll ask Scov what he’s heard.

The miner dramatically palmed his nose as he stared at the contents of one of his mother’s laden baskets, “more smelly soaps.”

Klair grinned and the two of them exchanged a wink against his mother’s pout.

“You men will enjoy it soon enough,” she countered smiling at their teasing.

“Use my backboard for a table if you wish,” Scov offered. “I’ll take you both home afterwards.”

“I think I will,” Norah challenged. “Let a little lavender accent that coal dust of yours.”

Klair grinned. The man wasn’t stupid; he knew how to press his advantage where everyone benefited. His mother drew several men’s attentions, but it was Scov she favored. “He’s generous and kind,” his mother told him. Looking at Scov’s build revealed him as a man accustomed hard labor for his boots were smudged and dark stains on his hands showed he most likely worked throughout the night. Scov didn’t stink of horse, cow or the smoke of a furnace but of earth and coal. He must have cleaned up before coming to market. Scov was hoping to see Mom.

Apprenticing to him will be hard work; but the press of rock over him didn’t bother Klair as it did others. I could hold back a cave in, I bet.

Klair touched his tunic inner pocket and felt the pieces of wood press against him. He learned how to carve straight simply designed sticks when he apprenticed to the woodcrafter Bejja years ago. While his mother began distributing soaps across the backboard, Klair turned to go. He once suggested mixing scented woodchips into some of the soft paste of one of his mother’s Chamomile soaps and it became one of her most popular. “I’ll see you later,” he offered as the two adults lingered together.

“You have two spans for fun then back here to the wagon,” His mother said.

In answer, Klair lifted his hand to the sky. He noted the time and nodded. “Day, Scov.”

The other nodded, “Klair.” The miner’s hand casually drooped across the wagon behind his mother. He did not touch her, but it was still a small sign of possession to those approaching them. When the miner thought he was out of earshot, he said, “He’s a good lad, Norah.”

He must not have heard about me and Tarrant yet, Klair thought. Mom better see what he thinks about my magic before she accepts him totally.

When he reached the water well Constable Trenny glared down at him, “Sun’s not glaring in your eyes now?”

Klair shook his head. “I’m fine now, thank you,” he said with forced innocence.

“Where’s Norah?”

“Working.”

Constable Trenny grunted.

Klair nodded and continued through the crowd. He found the Jessie twins behind the wine booth, sharing a bottle with Monta and Drace. “Mind visitors,” Klair asked, grinning as he approached them.

“What took you so long?” Loginna said beaming.

“Mom.”

“Busy woman,” The twin, Lance, said.

Klair sat between Drace and Loginna. Loginna nestled close to him, holding his hand low in her lap. “Sometimes when I touch you, I tingle.” She admitted.

Is she serious?

Is that why she’s now so interested in me? He didn’t mind she liked touching him. She’s very soft. The petal water she wears is really strong but… he liked when they kissed a lot. I know she’s interested in me because of Mom’s friends. I make her tingle—whatever that means. She must think it’s because of something I learned from the Kindred. She thinks I’ll know a bunch of stuff when we eventually couple… but what about me as me?

They sat together, on the mat, hip against hip and his heart pounded faster. She wore a low blouse. He looked and she smiled in invitation. He was starting to feel… he shifted.  Better to think about something else.

His eyes settled upon Drace who was sloppily drinking from a water skin, letting trails of juice drizzle down his cheeks. The other was an old enemy, calling Klair ‘Mama’s boy’ or ‘mute head’. True, he only had his mother is a parent and he wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but he didn’t appreciate the name-calling. The two of them had only tussled once with neither proving to be a real victor. Klair had hoped, but that would be adequate proof that he was wasn’t a Mama’s boy. The taunts persisted. Things may have grown steadily worse, until Klair and Tarrant come up with a suitable teaching moment.

Klair smiled at the memory.

“I miss Tarrant,” Klair admitted, glancing down at Loginna’s low blouse. His thoughts warmed to what he really wanted to do. His mom warned him on their way to market for him to be wise. He knew what she meant.

His mother told him, “Loginna is fighting with fire as she seeks attention. She can be hurt.” Her gaze centered on him. “Don’t be the one to do it.” Loginna has already coupled, I’m sure of it, Klair thought. He didn’t tell his mother that, but Klair could not ignore the fugitive looks from Drace as the girl now concentrated on Klair.

Maybe Loginna wants to give all of us a turn.

Klair shifted again and told his friends of his and Tarrant’s adventures and couldn’t resist prodding Drace, “Guess you can’t call us Wogs anymore.” Pollywogs, the size of a hand, were fragile creatures and his ‘friend’ took great delight in calling him that. The two of them had not always been friends, but Tarrant’s friendship had forced Drace’s acceptance. The rest had followed Tarrant’s natural leadership and for that Klair would be forever loyal to his adventurous friend.

Loginna rewarded him for his daring by giving him a kiss and rested her chin on Klair’s shoulder. He kissed her back. She grinned nuzzling close and their lips met for a third kiss. She’ll let us kiss but won’t let us be a boyfriend and girlfriend. That seems unfair.

“—They usually come back early,” Lance told the group and Klair’s thoughts turned to his friend’s conversation. “Who?”

“Tarrant and the others are a day over due from their Gnu trip,”

They’re experienced hunters, he reminded himself trying to ignore his dream of the hunters fighting. The wildebeests started north every spring. Their migration path stretched from the southern tip of Fist to North Anvil and was called The Gnu Trail. Cities and villages lined the path when there were matching water sources. The same path the Kapawn took in their march north to war sixteen years ago.

It’s got to be just a bad dream, he reminded himself and said, “Hopefully they’ll find plenty of Gnu soon.” Hope whatever is happening around the country isn’t affecting Tarrant or the migrations. Both countries relied heavily upon the meat and it was the threat of interrupting the migration that finally stopped the war.

He lifted his hand from Loginna’s lap to pull out his sticks and they began to play.

*****

I’m glad Scov brought us here before taking us home, Klair thought as the wagon carrying Scov, Klair and his mother stopped at the base of a small mountain. He had been here since the night with Tarrant and their trip down the Tonosh. The community fields were beautiful in their orderly lines circling down the incline. A series of terraces were cut out of the ground and looked like huge steps leading down the mountain side. Klair rubbed his back in sympathy as he remembered taking turns in grading the ground at the lower terraces and later digging trenches and hollowing out trees trunks for use of the canals to carry water. Many of the trunks were suspended off the earth on stilts while other canals remained ground level.

The piping resembled a long wooden rope coiled around the mountain. Townspeople gathered to see the finished project. Several were threading themselves through the maze working on canals or firming up a trench.

Klair watched as his mother rested a hand around Scov’s muscled arm and affection­ately rubbed at the strands of blond hair growing there.

Klair stood up in the wagon’s rear. Coal dust frosted his boots. He casually rearranged the drop cloth his mother gave him to protect their laden baskets from their day at market from the fine dust. The fact she brought it—Mom knew Scov would volunteer to give us a ride.

“With this finished, it’ll be good to have full manpower back in the mines.” Scov said.

“Everyone will be glad it’s done,” Klair said. His mother looked back at him and smiled. The look shared between them told volumes. Last six day, his mother admitted she wish to marry. She might have been waiting until I apprenticed and it looks like she might have found the right man. Marrying would discourage the attentions of Trenny. I’ll have a real dad which is better than a pretend Thorn.

“Norah-Lee.”

The three looked up to see Constable Trenny. His was horse lathered and wheezing from its mad dash from the village to the canals. “We need to talk.” He commanded.

“Now may not be the time, Constable,” she said, voice firm as she looked back at the miner.       Scov looked back at Trenny, mouth set in a firm line. “Constable,” the miner said his voice bearing a slight edge.

Trenny prodded his horse forward. The Constable usually known to be a fair man, but occasionally…. it was whispered he sometimes he wouldn’t pay for something at market or he’d demand a second serving without paying extra. Scov stood up in his wagon. Klair automatically moved forward. There was something else about him no one else might know. Trenny recently bore bruised flesh beneath the skin of his hands that wasn’t from hard labor. Who has he hit, he wondered and keeping it a secret.

His mother pulled at the miner’s arm. “Maybe it would be better to talk–” she began.

Scov looked down at her. “No one should be intimidated into doing what they don’t want to do.” He lowered his voice to a near whisper, his gaze intense. “Even with me.”

Klair watched them, his heart pounding for what he saw there. Her eyes glistened. She loves him, he realized as her voice gentled as she held the miner’s arm. “I’m not intimidated by you,” she whispered. Scov gave her a silent nod and squeezed her shoulder. Klair’s enhanced hearing permitted him to hear the exchange against all the hollering of the townspeople visiting the canals.

Trenny nudged his horse forward. “Stay out of this, mole.”

Scov merely laughed and jumped off the wagon.  Why can’t Trenny leave Mom alone?

The Constable dis­mounted and the two men faced one another.

Klair looked about him; everyone’s attention was riveted to the canals. His heart pounded so fiercely it felt like his chest would burst. Maybe Scov could beat him. One reason Trenny became Constable was because of his build. If I was subtle enough I could use magic and trip him up. Make a mistake and I’d betray myself and Ma. The miner was one of the few men with the necessary build to stand against Trenny. Does he have the temperament? The look in Scov’s eyes showed not anger but righteous ignition. He’ll protect his own, Klair realized.

Klair studied the ground where the two men stood. Pebbles lay scattered amongst the dirt. Subtle use of magic was beyond him especially when he was upset. I don’t want to have to move again. His gaze hardened as he gripped his hands into fists. But it we have too— Gaze darting around, Klair wanted to yell, instead, he pressed his two smallest fingers to his lips and blew a shrill whistle. Dozens of faces looked toward him and to see the two men in combat stance.

Trenny paused in his advance.

“Something the matter?” the miner prodded.

“I want a turn,” Trenny said, voice low.

“She’s made her choice. As Constable it is your duty to uphold and honor it.” Scov stepped closer. “Maybe you grow weary of being Constable.”

Trenny clenched his fists for the village provided for all his needs. He stepped back. “I can wait.”

“Not enough,” Scov countered. “It was your intent to force Norah’s attention.” The miner raised his voice. “I’m calling upon the city Elders to support this judgment. Trenny is denied any further contact with Norah.”

Trenny raised his fists. “You can’t!”

“I second the judgment,” another said.

The Constable glared toward the observers.

“I shouldn’t be constantly denied!”

Klair instantly recognized Tarrant’s uncle, Maken, as he walked up to the two opponents while murmurs from others followed him. Maken as one of the senior elders of the village voted against permission for Kindred to advertise at market and when Norah and Klair first arrived he doubted his mother was no longer Kindred. She was required to report her previous occupation wherever she moved; but, after the majority vote, Norah and Klair were permitted to stay. He remained a consistently fair man, even when the vote went against him.

“This is second warning, Constable Trenny,” Maken announced, his voice easily carried across the crowd as he approached. “Your duty is to serve and assist the people of the village, not to put yourself above them.” Maken stepped directly before him. He was not a tall man and the Constable towered over him but the Elder appeared unaffected wearing his authority like a cloak. He raised one hand, palm down, between the miner and constable.

Trenny opened his mouth.

“Second warning,” the assembly echoed.

Second? Klair wondered. What else has he done? Usually his mother was well tapped into the gossip of the town… Three bad misdeeds against the populace of the city and Trenny could be banned.

Maken folded his arms. “Do you wish to con­test?”

Silence followed, eyes riveted on Trenny. Countering an Elder’s proclamation had its own consequences. The Constable was furiously thinking of some rebuttal; that was evident finally: “No,” he clipped.

Maken nodded, dropping his arms to his sides, “very well.” The Elder turned back to the assembly. “Disperse,” he announced.

As one, the people turned from the Constable returning to the sidelines of the fields. Trenny glared up at Klair. He knew whose whistle drew the attention of the others.

Klair glared back.

“Perhaps the market has need of your services, Constable.” Maken said.

Trenny swung away and mounted his horse so fiercely the horse would have bucked except Trenny kicked its flanks to prod it forward. He left in a cloud of dust.

Maken approached the wagon and Scov followed him. The Elder looked up as Norah remained sitting in the front seat. Her eyes were downcast; palms open in her lap in a submissive gesture while Klair stood braced behind her, his look defiant, heart burning.

Voice gentle, the Elder asked: “Do you agree with the judgment, Norah?” Klair’s eyes widened, Elder Maken spoke his mother’s name. In the past the Elder usually addressed her as midwife. That sur­prised him, as Maken made no move to interact with her or buy her soaps, as if intentionally avoiding her, except when Tarrant and I get in trouble.

“Yes.”

“Will you report to the counsel, if the constable at any time talks to you?”

She hesitated for only a moment. “Yes.”

Maken nodded. “The constable can be an easily provoked man. Please inform me if he shows any misuse of any of your Kindred friends as he may do so in an attempt to hurt you indirectly.”

Norah looked up, meeting the Elder’s gaze. “I will.”

Maken looked up at Klair and waved him forward. “Attend me,” he said and turned away from the wagon.

Klair paused for only a moment before jumping off the bed to follow. Maken continued to walk in silence until they were clearly out of earshot of Scov and his mother, who watched on anxiously. When they were standing alone near the lowest ridge of the canal, Maken bent down and picked up some clay. He rolled it into a ball in his hands while Klair looked on. “You whistled.” Maken said.

Klair straightened. “Y-yes.”

“Back at the wagon I sensed your resentment to the judgment—why?”

Klair looked down, shifting his feet. “I…I agree with the judgment.” He dug his toe into a spot of mud and it bubbled under the pressure. “The Constable has been making moves toward mother since we’ve moved here.” He shifted. “She’s tried to discour­age him.”

“Then why are you angry?”

Klair turned silent. Maken was fair and helped the situation by his authority. What’s the use of magic if I can’t use it openly? If I had, Trenny would have been a smear in the ground.

“Had this not happened here with the attention of the people, what would you have done?”

Klair stared at Maken. What does he mean? He shrugged his shoulders. Dark eyes bore into his. “You might feel frustrated that you cannot always protect your mother. You have always been a dutiful son. I realize you’d prefer not to talk? That can restrict you if you don’t present yourself more.” He nodded toward him. “You are becoming a man with a choice of multiple apprenticeships yet you’ve chosen none so far. Why?”

When Klair didn’t answer Maken continued, “You have worked hard here, contributing to the construction of the canal. Every man who you have apprenticed with would be willing to cord you in their craft. You and your mother have established a home in the hearts and minds of these people. With your potential—” Maken paused at the word.

“Perhaps now is the time to decide what you will do and with whom you’ll assign your cords.”

Klair glanced at the man’s own cords woven in the Elder’s hair. They identified him as the smith of the town as well as elder. The Elder was one of the few who hadn’t volunteered to apprentice him. Klair’s gaze flickered across the ground. What potential? What would Maken know without teaching me? His heart quickened for a moment. Does he know what I am? He almost reached for his braided hair, to see if any of the dye had come loose. Klair contributed to the grading the earth, digging ditches, hollowing out the logs. I’m a good worker. He’s gotta mean that.

Maken glanced back at the waiting couple. “Scov and Norah look happy together.” He paused before continuing. “No longer having to worry about the safety of a loved one, can free a man to pursue his own life.”

He wants me to leave.

Klair followed the other’s gaze and his heart calmed, glad to have the topic off him. The two were hugging one another. His mother and his potential father looked contented as Scov pointed out an area of recent construction of the canals. I’ve been useless protecting Mom and me being here makes it worse for her. Klair turned back to Maken. Does he want me to leave?

“Think about it,” Maken said as he dropped the clay and started back with Klair in tow.

*****

It was mid-sixth day that Klair arrived to the storage shed positioned at the lower levels of the terraced gardens.

“I thought a bunch of us was going to help patch the roof?” Klair said as he met Loginna as the door to the community tool shed. He looked around, but there was no one in sight. I should get back to my shift at the community fields.

She said nothing but pulled him inside. The room was still musty from the long winter and would have been dark with all the shutters closed but several candles lined the shelves as she led him to the far back to the second room where he saw several blankets strung across the floor. Remaining silent, she stepped close, hugged him and held him lining her legs next to his as they stood together. She nibbled his neck.

It didn’t take long for him to respond.

He carefully kissed her on the lips, as he hugged her, feeling her softness press against him. We’re finally going to do it. How could his mother object? This was a clear invitation and she was the instigator. How long is a guy expected to resist?

She chuckled against his neck. It’s the quite ones you need to watch,” she murmured.

He was but one more knot to her cord. How long had she been at him, slowly carefully drawing him in? She pressed closer. He would be happy to—

I won’t hurt her. We can finally—

They nuzzled and gently kissed each other’s faces. He slowly trailed kisses from one cheek, across her lips and to the other, caressing her face within his hands. He felt himself respond further to their close proximity and she smiled in anticipation.

Her breath quickened, apparently the tingling she talked about before, affecting her through all physical contact between them.

His voice turned husky. “After this, will we be a couple?”

She wiggled against him. “We’ll couple.”

His heart quickened at the close proximity of their bodies. She pressed her knee forward. “That’s not what I meant. You—” She touched him and he lost all thought. I want her want her want her!

Loginna smiled in silent victory.

Blood rushing, their kissing became more intense hands began to wander. He suddenly froze, her look reminded him of Draces’ smirk of satisfaction when successfully goading him that time at the river a year ago or when Constable Trenny intimidated someone to stand down from a confrontation. He imagined such a smirk from the wizard Thorn if Klair were to ever show up at Taaken city. She’s manipulating me. She wants what she wants and doesn’t care if—

His mother’s words came rushing to his mind, “Whose in control Klair?”

He forced himself to lean back. He didn’t want to step back and his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to burst. And other parts of his body were—

“We need to talk, Loginna. Neither of us is apprenticed. If it gets out that we’ve coupled it’ll—”

She snorted. “You want to talk? Now?” She rolled her eyes. Her hands began wandering. “I hadn’t thought you’d turn into talker when you have a chance to—”

“They’ll call you a Sheet.”

Loginna shoved him back. “I am not!”

Klair gripped her shoulders wanting to pull her close. They were so soft under his touch, so pliable. We shouldn’t… can’t…” Her earlier smirk had rankled him, reminding him too much of the possible manipulation of a father he never knew. Klair stepped further back, trying to suppress the heat of his lower body but her reached out and drew them back together.

Her voice was hot against his ear. “With what your mother once was, who her friends are… you of all people who dare to judge!”

“If we do this, will we be permanent boy and girl friend?”

Loginna stiffened.

Body throbbing with need, blood rushed through his ears. He saw her look of fury quickly suppressed. Just another knot on her cord, he thought. Loginna strangely reminded him of the Kindred Ravenna. His companion’s pressed herself close.

Klair gently pushed her away. “No, I’m sorry,” he told her and left.

*****

That evening his mother smelled the scent of flower water on him and knew, it wasn’t from one of her soaps.

“Getting pretty friendly, between the two of you and Loginna, I see,” his mother queried.

“Yeah,” His thoughts returned to the encounter at the shed. Ever since he had left Loginna he was regretting it. Certainly a little harmless manipulation would have been okay for the chance to… We should have done it, I should have done it. We could have kept the secret so that she wouldn’t be called a Sheet. Ironic, we both couple and it’s the girl’s called the Sheet when guys aren’t.

Maybe he misunderstood her look. They both wanted what she wanted, didn’t they?

His mother fixed one of his favorite meals. Afterwards they sat in front of the fire; she groomed and braided his hair, which always relaxed him. Klair admitted how he liked Loginna and that she liked him back. He vaguely admitted the girl’s not subtle hints for them to couple. “—but she says we can’t be girl and boy friend. I can’t see why not. She says I make her tingle.”

His mother didn’t smile but continued to play gently with his braid.

He closed his eyes for a full meal and the gentle tug on his hair made his sleepy.

“I became a Kindred because a close friend said he loved me and I found out he didn’t,” his mother admitted.

Klair tried to look up, but she held his braid keeping him facing the fire. “I want to love Loginna,” he admitted. “We could eventually even marry. She won’t even talk about it. I can’t see why not. Why doesn’t she want us to be a real couple?”

“That’s not the only commitment before coupling,” his mother warned.

He sighed. Wondering how he could salvage his relationship with Loginna since he had walked out on her.” I was trying to not hurt her. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

“Would you promise me a city, if you could give it, Klair?”

“Oh yesss,” came his easily reply, “Any city you want, Mom.” Glad his mother moved to a safer topic.

She smiled and it became a game. They took turns upping the gifts of family devotion to include all the lakes of Fist, the forests of the country of Blade, all the gold of the world, and both moons given for the joy of the other and as a token of devotion. She rested her hands on his shoulders.

What would life be like if we could have our every wish, Klair wondered.

“Promise me the time of your first coupling,” she offered.

Klair stiffened and sat up staring at her. “What?”

She rested her hand on his arm. “Promise you won’t bed someone until you’ve corded to your apprenticeship and found the one you’ll marry. Promise me Klair.” The intensity of her gaze bore into him.

But I’ve been holding back for so long already. We almost did it today. Maybe it’s okay that she doesn’t want to be boy and girl friend. Aren’t there times I want to manipulate someone like she does? He couldn’t think of any at the moment but it would feel really good to finally…. Every time he was with Loginna his mind was telling him to do all kinds of things. With Mom’s past I thought she’d understand… It’s important to her but I want to… His body twitched in complaint.

He didn’t say anything. I’ve already been waiting a long time already. It’s not fair that she asks me to wait longer…

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mom.”

Her gaze intensified as she looked at him.

Why is it so important to her? She’s never told me why she became a Kindred until now.

Strangely of all the feelings he’s had for Loginna he never saw her as a wife. His willingness to wed her after they couple, shouldn’t that be enough… No other girl in Merrsain caught his interest. When his mom was married there was a good chance he would have to leave, even if temporarily, to find a wife. It was something many young men did.

“Can’t we talk about something else?”

Her hands pressed his shoulders and as if realizing it, she lifted them freeing him. She waited.

Don’t make me promise. Sometimes it seems like that’s the only thing I can think about. He felt the slight presence of her knees behind him, just beyond touch. When had she ever asked much of him? She had to move from city to city because of him, sacrifice who knew what to keep him safe. Her entire life had been devoted to keeping him safe.

For a moment his thoughts turned to the second room of the storage shed. He imagined himself with Loginna, their bodies were intertwined and—

“I promise,” he said.

Maybe when I visit Penostat, I’ll take care of the snakes, without magic. While there, maybe I’ll meet someone, apprentice somewhere, get married and raise kids without magic.

His mother smiled, accepting his vow.

 

Klair woke to rain and kept his eyes closed as he listened to the heavy pounding against the thatched tiled top. From his bed in the loft, he stretched his hand out through a loose board and let the torrent soak his hand. The sweet aroma of Kidder patties frying below ticked his senses. It’s so peaceful here in Merrsain when other parts of Fist are under a siege of problems. He forced his thoughts to more pleasant paths, stretching out his arms, sensing the energy rumbling within the storm. He felt and heard the walls rattle against the wind. Since childhood, his mother had learned of his aversion to the close quarters within city limits, so they always lived outside of town.

The hard wind promised that the skies would be clear for their late morning walk to market. Klair relaxed in the warmth of his blankets. His mother would be calling him soon. Maybe he could persuade her to skip the morning magic practice.

Thunder rumbled as rain filled his outstretched palm as he inhaled, his chest filled with energy, and spread from his torso to arms and legs, making his entire body buzz. With a shift of thought, his mind turned to the rain itself and he felt the individual meteorites of moisture plastering the roof. Cool dampness caressed his face. I could spit fire right now, he thought. He doubted he could, but the rain felt so good.

He drew his hand inside and splashed the collected water against his face.

A disturbing image suddenly flashed across his mind. His best friend Tarrant, his friend’s father, plus eight other hunters were clustered together in battle, their chakrams singing through the air to their targets. Properly thrown, the circular blades could sever a head off a gnu. Then the image was gone. Bad dream, Klair wondered. He sat up. Who were they fighting? He hadn’t been permitted to talk to Tarrant since the night at the underground river.

From the floor below he heard a familiar voice. It was one of the Kindred, Ravenna. Of all the prostitutes she was the one he liked the least. “You’re being stingy, Norah.”

What is she complaining about? Klair got up and began to dress. What does she want now? Klair hadn’t told his mother how the woman pressed him while she wasn’t around. Ravenna promised him secrets if he ever wanted to sneak out at night and visit. Klair’s lips pressed in growing anger. He didn’t hear his mother’s response and hurried down the ladder only to see the door close behind the woman. He found his buffed boots waiting for him at the base of the ladder. He ignored them. Though his mother was no longer a woman of the evening since his birth, some 15 years ago, she still befriended the women who worked as such in Merrsain.

His mother returned to the cooking fire. She wore a wide blue skirt with a lighter blue tunic a payment for managing the difficult birth of twins. Her back faced him as she concentrated on their breakfast. Her golden hair hung braided down her back with the marking of cords weaved throughout identifying her as a midwife and herbalist.

“What did Ravenna want?”

His mother sighed and slowly faced him. “She knows you’re a son of a Kapawn.” When Klair stiffened she added, “She said she’ll keep the secret for a price.”

His heart quickened. “Do we have to move?”

“I’ve convinced her it’s in the Kindred’s best interests to keep the secret, especially with your ability to detect their more violent customers.” Her gaze hardened. “I reminded her that no one has been hurt since I’m told them who to avoid. That should be payment enough as well as my help for their medical needs.” Klair had the ability to detect the bruising beneath skin which identified men who might be violent to the prostitutes. When he admitted of his ability to his mother, she warned the women against specific men, the Kindred avoided the rougher segment of their customers.

The hard dirt was cool under his feet as Klair began pacing. “How did she find out?”

Her gaze lifted briefly at his discolored hair, which was usually a dull red when the husks took properly. “Ravenna made the connection when you were caught out in the rain storm last six-day while patching her roof, plus the fact I got pregnant when dutifully taking Barron.”

Ravenna was very good at self-interest. Would it be enough?

This has been the longest time ever that we’ve kept the secret. We’ve been here three years and I don’t want to move. Mom thinks it’s settled. He shifted uncomfortably. We’ll see.

Klair sat at the small table opposite his mother’s cooking fire, frowning as his chair groaned under his weight. Not that he was heavy, but Klair made the chair while apprenticing with a former mentor. I’ve got to learn to be good at something. He thought I’ve got less than a year to be corded. I’d go back and apprentice with woodcrafter Bejja if I didn’t have to move and leave mother. Stay unapprenticed and uncorded; Mom might insist I go to Kapawn School.

He pressed his lips. She wants me to accept Thorn. Thorn was the name Klair used for the father who gave no name. Klair clenched his fists. Is that why she isn’t pressuring me to choose an apprenticeship? She thinks I’ll go to the city of wizards. Not a chance. It’s better to remove my magic completely and remain a norm. That’ll show Thorn I’m not his puppet. I’ll do the exact opposite of anything he wants.

He hadn’t admitted his plan to his mother. He knew she wanted him to go to Taaken, the city of wizards.

He studied her, trying to imagine Ravenna backing down to his mother’s counter proposal. His mother possessed a cool authority she rarely flaunted. Is that what attracted Thorn to her? Klair studied his mother. The Kindred wore heavy face paints and he was grateful his mother abandoned the habit along with her old career. Her skin was smooth and soft with only a once-broken nose to mar her beauty. Golden waves of hair were swept up into a braided bun with long trails cascading down her back, so much different than the naturally black sheen of his when they were not busy dying it into a dirty red.

Mom is pretty, Klair admitted to himself. Her piercing blue eyes were tight with stress. What did Ravenna want us to pay for her silence? Klair wasn’t certain he wanted to know. Outside his mother’s hearing the Sheet, a more slanderous title than Kindred, had propositioned him outright when he had failed to respond to her not so subtle hints.

Klair still ignored her. His mother became very particular in her later years of the importance of marriage before coupling. Why now? He wondered, with what her occupation had been in years past?

Maybe Ravenna wouldn’t try to stir things up if she knew there are so many problems in other areas of the country. He hadn’t told his mother what he learned at Elder Maken’s home knowing she would be furious at him for snooping.

The Kindred were famous for their gossip and many traveled as frequently as Klair and his mother. I wish Ravenna would leave. She shouldn’t try to make us move. At least here I’ve got real friends and the rain is never hot like places in the south. A memory from childhood flashed across his mind an image of him as wallowing in hot mud with his body twitching with spasms and charley-horses. Hot water took away his magic. Twice he’d been caught out in warm rain. The same thing happened if he drank hot soup or ale. Klair ached for hours later. He learned early, never touch hot water or liquid.

“Ravenna isn’t nice at all,” he complained. He tried to relax and suppress his rising anger. “Wish I could do something, maybe—”. He didn’t finish. Anyone learning what he was would only make it worse.

His mother offered a tight smile. She said it was progress that he took walks in the woods to calm his moods. Merrsain was surrounded by forest. Their hut was amongst a high concentration of trees away from most of the other houses and their home was farthest from town. He never told her of the trees he destroyed with magic within the dense forest circling their home and the town of Merrsain. With so many trees and off the trails it wasn’t likely that others would happen upon the damage. He let his rage fuel his magic and stopped before getting a physical response.

Space out the felled trees far enough and it could look natural.

He remembered one tirade two years back when he stomped off up river of the Tonosh and away from one of Drace’s more vicious taunts. Drace had manipulated some of the others to help. He had to leave before responding in a way he wanted. The target of his wrath became a huge bolder next to the river. By the time he was finished whirling magical slams against it, what remained was rubble and pebbles. People later asked what ever happened to the big boulder. His rage was often sufficient fuel to avoid getting sick.

Possibly sensing her son’s thoughtful mood she said, “Each Kindred chose her occupation for different reasons, Klair. Some were hurt… others… felt there was no other choice. Sometimes the anger can seep away throughout the years, for others it burns hotter.”

With his mother’s calm, he knew that whatever event had triggered her to follow the Kindred’s path; she didn’t carry that same anger now.

She smiled, shaking his shoulder a little. “Take heart, she gave me her word.” Her gazed met his. “Things will work out.” She patted his muscled arm, complements of chopping and harvesting wood for her and the Kindred. “You’re gaining your father’s build.”

“Ravenna calls me a post.”

She sighed. “Ravenna can be cruel at times. Be careful around her.” She squeezed his muscled arm. “You’re starting to fill out quite nicely. All that wood chopping for the Kindred is starting to provide scenic value for the ladies of the village.”

Klair blushed.

Her eyes danced at his response. “Keep as busy as you do and learn from all your mentors. After you specialize, you’ll be able to find a good wife someday.”

Klair thought of Loginna. I can’t call her a girlfriend? Mom doesn’t mention her because she doesn’t like her. Why doesn’t she like her?  Klair leaned forward. “You won’t marry, but you expect me to.”

“Marriage settles one dear,” she countered with a smile. “Someday I’ll find the right man who doesn’t joke about my past and sees me as… me. Better than the first man in my youth  who…” She stiffened and abruptly changed the subject. “I’ve trained you wrong, by moving from place to place.”

“I haven’t minded.”

She rubbed his shoulder against the lie and gave it a brief squeeze. “It has been hard for you though, making new friends and when you finally do, you find a Tarrant.”

He grinned.

She frowned. She didn’t mean it as a complement. “I’m sorry you find magic to be so frustrating. Your father never warned me about that.”

When did the two of you have time to talk? If I ever meet Thorn, I’ll shove his face in the dirt. Mom had better think twice if she expects me to someday meet and accept him. Never!

He studied the floor.

With a gentle caress, she tugged at a single long strand of his shiny black hair. The mud and husk dye had fallen away as the strand became loose. It glistened. “You would make any mother proud.” Patting him on the shoulder, she got up and brought their breakfast to the table. “You’ve got that ‘I hate my magic’ look,” she said softly.

He shrugged and pulled his plate toward him. The dish was a mixture of sour and sweet jelly on top of a bean patty.

“Want to discuss it?” she prodded.

Klair shook his head and kept chewing. He felt the warmth of his mother’s hand on top of his and he looked up at her. “It would be unfortunate if you were rejecting the possibil­ity of being a wizard simply because you distrust your father. I loved him.”

He leaned back, ignoring the accom­panying squeak. “How can you love a man who only spent one night with you?”

She smiled. “He gave me you.”

“Because of me, you always need to move.” Anger swelled within him once more. Klair wanted to hit something… no someone. It was an old sore that refused to heal. He wanted to pace the room and bellow with frustration. See, I can control myself, mother, he thought as he tried to calm his pounding heart. He forced his voice to remain level. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?”

“Sometimes,” she admitted, “but I accept the price for the prize.” Her eyes encompassed him in their warmth.

She always says that.

But her words never failed to warm him, “if only you knew him”

He turned away. No thanks. He abandoned you when you were the most vulnerable. I’d never do that so why did he? Could Thorn have been one of the wizards who went crazy during the war with occasional days of sanity? Can insanity be transferred in birth? That would explain my moods. It was so easy to torch off sometimes.

They ate their meal in companionable silence and at its conclusion: “Time to practice,” she said.

Seems like we should practice before bed than I’d just sleep on the floor down here, he thought; but with his physical labor throughout the day that wasn’t really an option. Klair frowned. Knowing how much the Northern provinces hated wizards, why did his mother insist he practice? She’s preparing—expecting me to go to the Taaken, the city that hosted the Kapawn School not by words but by actions. He gripped his hand into a fist, flexing knuckles. Useless Thorn… Sticker, Thistle… told her to train me as much as she could.

His mother insisted that he hide his magic from outsiders, but within the con­fines of their home, she encouraged him to use it for daily tasks. During one practice session, he lifted a chair with his mother sitting on it. They laughed themselves breathless when the chair toppled, plopping her on the soft earth.

Would today would be a new task? She pointed to the cauldron of water boiling above the hearth. “To the door,” she said.

We did this last sixth day… Klair stretched his hands forward. They’d only done this twice before. The first time had resulted in spilling boiling water throughout the whole room, instantly turning their floor into a steaming mud bowl. She succeeded in helping Klair climb onto the table before the hot water reached either of them. It was quite a scramble. They sat back-to-back waiting for the mud to cool. Fortunately, the mist wasn’t quite hot enough to shove him into spasms.

“You must learn to focus your powers without the use of your hands.”

I know, Mom. Klair glared at the pot. It took two spans of time to carry water from the stream to fill the cauldron. Now she wants me to move the thing to the door without spilling it.

Sudden inspiration blossomed. Get good enough and I might be able carry the pot to the stream, fill it, and float it back to home at night with no one the wiser. That would save me a bunch of trips. I’d have time to… A brief image of Loginna came to mind.

The second reason for the practice, get used to using it, build up endurance and he might eventually not get sick every time he used high magic.

The cooking pot wobbled as he slowly lifted it from the multiple hooks above the fire. Klair cupped his hands and carefully swung his body toward the door. The caldron echoed his action as the pot slowly floated from the fire toward the door barely a few fingers above the ground. She making me do slow, steady magic to teach me control—what a pain. But these practices helped me save Tarrant’s life.

The ground below the hot metal sizzled. Klair didn’t feel the heat. Both hands and arms flexed, and his head shook from the exertion. He’d be panting soon.

The cauldron dipped.

“Careful,” She warned as both heard the water flop against the sides. Klair’s scalp felt like it was the battle ground of a bunch of crawling ants but he fought for focus.

“Keep going,” His mother whispered. Klair’s hands shook and the wobbling increased as he fought to maintain control. The pot thumped to the ground when he made it to the door and water splashed over the sides.

“Almost,” she said a smile on her face.

Perspiration beaded Klair’s face. He leaned against the table and his stomach rumbled. His inner shirt was damp. He leaned over and lost his breakfast into the bucket placed by his chair. We should have waited after breakfast.

“Put it back now.”

Klair whirled on her. “Now?” That’ll knock me out for sure.

She nodded, serene as she stared back at him. “Don’t spill anything this time.”

“But Mom.” Anger fueled must of the first attempt. He might be able to avoid further sickness if they stopped now.

“Hurry dear.”

I had a hard enough time getting the water to the door. Certainly she’d let me rest a little before—

“Now dear.”

Sand her, Klair thought. Passed out, how can I help her with the chores? What is she trying to prove anyway? He glared at the caldron while his arms ached as if he physically lifted it. It would require two men to carry such a load. How can she expect—

“Let me rest first,” Klair offered.

She shook her head.

Sulking, Klair glared briefly at her before returning his attention to the pot. It short, it was harder, much harder the second time. At first he started dragging it across the dirt floor ignoring his mother’s frown. A mound of dirt piled on the side between the cauldron and the fire. When his mother finally objected, he lifted it by a hand span to move it toward the fire in sudden acceleration. Klair squinted as he brought it to a gentle stop before it slammed against the hearth base.

“Good control,” His mother whispered.

He ignored her and his stomach rumbled. Can’t throw up or I’ll lose focus and it’ll fall over. The pot started to wobble.

“Up and over dear.”

He wanted to curse. Even a full day carrying rocks for the path under the waterfalls hadn’t made his arms hurt so. Klair could feel the beginning of a charley horse in his left elbow. He closed his eyes and with a mental grunt lifting the pot toward the hooks but was short by a hand length.

“Who is in control, Klair?”

Stop saying that! His eyes burned with mounting fury and with a thought his imaginary hand gripped part of the handle. The caldron creaked under the pres­sure applied to it and the handle bent.

His mother remained silent.

Fist shaking, arms rigid, Klair moved using his whole body simply to move his fist; hand mentally centered on the pot hovering next to the fire. Shifting it to one side, the pot com­plied. The cauldron hung from the hooks of the hearth.

“You did it!” She erupted from her chair, ran to him, leaned over and hugged him before pressing her long fingers to his scalp and began vigorously scratching. The itch was so intense. Klair sighed, panting as he leaned face down against the tabletop while his undershirt dripped holding off the shadows nibbling on the edges of his mind. He smiled. His body shook with effort to remain conscious.

“Stay awake,” She encouraged. She massaged his aching arms. “You were wonderful.”

He grunted, body shaking as he fought against the blackness tugging at his unconscious. I was able to save Tarrant’s life because of our practice, he realized, what would I have done without magic?

She continued to rub his arms vigorously gently squeezing and releasing pent up muscles. “I can’t believe how far you’ve come. Ever since your voice changed you’ve been improving in leaps and bounds.” Her voice swelled. “And to think four years ago you could hardly move a bowl across the table.”

I’m sorry mom. I won’t go to Taaken or attend the school. Papa Thorn can rot for all I care. At the first chance I get, I’m going to completely abandon magic and be a norm. Maybe someday I can take a warm bath like any other man if unused magic can simply drain away. But I can’t tell you that yet, can I? He mustered his courage. I’ll learn to answer problems without magic even if it’s to get rid of the snakes at Penostat. I’ll live somewhere in the country where shaving my head isn’t illegal. I’ll apprentice as a wood crafter.

Klair kept his hands under the table to hide his clenched fists.

She wouldn’t appreciate anger fueling his success. His mother wanted him to manage his magic while calm. “I’ve grounded the last of the nut husks. After you wake up, we’ll dye your hair,” she encircled him within a gentle embrace, ready to direct him to rest on the floor if necessary. The cost of magic had been the same since the blossoming of his abilities. The children of the Kapawn were known as spawn and for now, blackness pulled at Klair’s mind as consequence for the use of magic.

“We do this to build up your endurance,” she reminded him.

Klair’s thoughts turned to Tarrant. “I know,” he murmured letting unconsciousness claim him.

These are some notes I took from a CERT fireside a couple of months ago, which talked about spiritual preparation in case of emergency.

–        CERT was created in Southern California by the LA fire department because of the frequency of earthquakes in the area. It provides basic training to citizens.

–        Everyone can do something. Even people with physical limitations can either provide comfort for those of you hurt or can provide record-keeping to help keep things organized.

–        DC 38:30. If you are prepared, you shall not fear

–        Get trained to learn skills (can be used for barter)

–        The closer we arrived the second coming of Christ, the harder it will become.

–        After the tornadoes in the center of the country, some families met around the candles of their use supply kits and others around lamps.

–        To help respond more efficiently to emergency needs, church members helped by responding to specific work orders to respond to who needed to be helped. What need to be done and what equipment is required.

–        Preparedness works

The spiritual aspect of emergencies:

–        Christ’s last preaching of his ministry is known as the LVH discourse where Christ raises disciples. He gives the parable of the 10 virgins

–        DC: 45:34,35; D:C 38:30

–        During the time of the three days of darkness in the Americas at the death of Christ, the two things of the people are most upset about was.

1. They wish they had repented

2. Wish they had listened to the prophets

–        http://www.emdat.be/. Somewhere on this website might be a chart that shows the growth of catastrophes within the last decade. http://www.emdat.be/ I can’t find it. Maybe you can

–        Check out: http://orem.org/index.php/emergency-management/emergency-management

If you have items you’d like to add to the list, please put them in comment section of this blog.

First of all I want to complement the teachers and leaders of the youth organization through put such an event on for the congregation. I can appreciate the level of work, practice and organization that was required. The following couple of blogs will illustrate some positive observations I have on such a performance.

For the LDS church, a youthful program often consists of children singing Primary songs and giving short little talks on religious topics.

I hope the following comments can be of use to youth organizations, youth ministries, family counselors, parents and grandparents. Again, my compliments to in the adult and teen who has worked with the use in helping them grow and improve in their abilities of expression, and in teaching them about God.

Because I took a few notes, this topic may be covered in the following three teaching embellishments blog’s. The sections will touch upon

1. Organization

2. Child experience

3. Establishing the child to adult bond.

4. Value of music in child’s a program

Organization:

–        Prior to the presentation, leaders and teachers asked religious questions of the children and documented the answers. These responses comprised much of the verbal content presented in the program outside of songs, Scriptures, or quotes from religious leaders.

–        I noticed that masking tape had been deposited at various points of the stage with each child’s name written on it. This helps instruct the child to know where they need to stand. Each time they go on stage. After the program. I also noticed that masking tape was also put on the first two rows of the pews, so that the children would know what a sit.

–        Assigned places on the stage and pews helps children learn structure and organization. It also helps them to follow the prompts to be at a specific place at the specific time.

–        The program today had some nice features. I like reading the words of the songs that the children were singing. That improved my audience participation by visual activity between the kids and the text of the program.

–        Another nice thing about the program was it had the sequence of children listed by name, so that the family members and friends can know when their particular child is going to perform. It is also a silent reminder for the child to know when they are next in the program.

–        Each class (divided by age) was assigned a specific theme. I suspect that this gave each class member in primary the opportunity to practice their parts during primary for several weeks in advance to the program.

I can see the value of giving children the experience to participate in church at least once a year. My first opportunity for leadership position in church began in my late teens. As a counselor in the presidency, I had the opportunity to conduct meetings. I also had the experience of doing advertising for a social event. These were valuable experiences to give me confidence in new areas.

If you want to share some benefits as to the virtues of a program for children, please share it in the comment section of this blog. Next week the topic will be on our program can contribute to a child experience and training.