Cook Grayson was in a snit. His face, flushed with anger, he had lost his ability to speak and was sputtering what could only be garbled curse words. He stood in the middle of the kitchen holding an empty burlap bag with the bottom cut out. Something had been stolen again. Things had gone missing lately. Last month it had been a dozen laying hens. Two weeks ago, bandages and medicines had disappeared from inventory in the Infirmary. Pyre had his suspicions about the thefts. If it was Loren, it hurt that he had not contacted him. If it was not, it made him uneasy. Who was the thief?

Taking in a huge breath Cook Grayson quieted himself. He glared at Pyre and said, “Dam it all, I had taters in here. Fine taters for me stew. Now, every last one is gone, Don’t know when they went to missin’ cause it was stuffed with this rubbish.” Through the pantry door, Pyre saw the small pile of branches and dirt that had filled the bag. I couldn’t have been Loren, he would never be so careless. Pyre went into the pantry and rubbed his fingers across the dirt. It was not local dirt. There were too many pebbles in it and it was slightly darker than the local dirt. The branches were pine. Had it come from the mountains? Which mountains?

When Pyre cleaned up the debris, he shoved a twig and a dirt clod into his pocket. At the hearth, Cook Grayson grunted and cursed. Water was boiling and a thick garlicky smoke filled the kitchen. Pyre took the cut sack and its contents out to the garden trash pile and tossed it. His mind was spinning with unpleasant scenarios. He didn't know what to do, should he go to Dr. Kran or Appocca? Both or neither? Should he risk contacting Loren. No, that seemed like the very worst idea. Back inside he told Cook Grayson, "I'll go search the cellar. Surely there is another sack of potatoes down there."

"Aye, there may be, but they won't be as good as what I had."

It was most likely true. Pyre went through the pantry to the cellar door. He opened it and climbed down into the mousy smelly darkness. In a dank corner he found a bag. Cautiously he reached inside, determined it did indeed contain potatoes and took the bag up into the light of the panty. Seeing the bag Cook Grayson said, "Well, I ain't got time to peel and scrub um now."

"I'll do it." There were other things Pyre should be doing, like studying for his Ancient Language test, but he would never be able to focus. If only Petran were still there, but he was in Tashe. As Pyre cleaned and peeled the shriveled potatoes he prayed for discernment. About half way through the job, Rube Johan appeared. So he had successfully delivered Petran to Tashe. That was a blessing.Pyre’s mind and heart could rest a bit easier knowing Petran was with his family and Fand.

From his pack, Rube pulled out a letter. He extended it to Pyre and said, “Your father sent you this letter.

Pyre brushed off his hands and took the sealed letter. His families crest was an H with two Doves. It hit him like a bolt. Why had he never connected the doves in the crest with himself? He touched the dove pin on his own cowl. Another dove, a silver one, was hidden in his prayer book It was Fand’s dove, when it mysteriously appeared in his room, he should have sent it to his father to give to Fand, but he hadn’t. He could have even given it to Petran before he left, only he hadn’t. It didn’t feel like it was time to yet. At least that is what he told himself. Rube’s voice broke into his thoughts, “Are you all right?”

Startled Pyre looked up and nodded.

His friend eyed him narrowly. “Aren’t you going to ask me any questions about your F-family?” The stutter was deliberate. He was taunting him and trying to trap him into some bumble about Fand.

Stolen novel; please report.

Pyre did not take the step into his trap. He asked, “How was Petran when you left him?”

Obvious disappointment flickered in Rube’s eyes. He said, “Your mother’s cooking is helping. His color is returning. We’d all be much healthier if we had a cook like your mother. I do hope Cook Grayson retires soon.” The gleam in Rube’s eyes returned. From his breast pocket he pulled a small packet. For an instant Pyre’s heart leapt inside of him. Could it be something from Fand? Quickly he checked his expression. Fand would not risk sending him anything, especially not through Rube. Perhaps it was something from his sisters. Pyre slipped the letter in his pocket and reached for the packet. It smelled of ginger. The paper crinkled beneath his fingers. It was solid. A bottle of his mother’s ginger elixir no doubt. It smelled of home. How many times had his mother dosed him with this medicine over the years?

Rube said, “You mother told me it would help your tummy. So have you been having tummy trouble?“ His tone was sarcastic and demeaning.

Talking with Rube was dangerous. Pyre’s fingers itched to read the letter in his pocket. Perhaps there would be some hint of Fand. He must get rid of him. Pyre pocked the elixir and said, “If there is nothing else I really must get done with these potatoes. I have a bit of studying I need to attend to after I finish.”

The gleam in Rube’s eyes burst into a flame of contention. He smirked and asked, “Can you guess who is sleeping in your bed?”

Pyre suddenly felt sick. Fand slept in his bed. How many times had he imagined sharing that bed with him? Too many, not enough…Keeper what an image to be stuck with. He knew the color in his face was rising. His mind was a solid blank. How was he supposed to respond to this.

Rube burst out laughing. “I didn’t think you were over her. Not sure you ever will be, you poor sod.” He shook his head. “I will be off.”

Still dumb, Pyre watched him walk out of the kitchen. He reached in his pocket for the letter. At that moment, Cook Grayson returned from the garden. The letter would have to wait.

*

After a particularly nasty supper, Pyre went to his cubicle. The first thing he did was unload his pockets. The clod had crumbled a bit, the twig had stained the letter and the branch of pine had made his whole pocket sticky with resin. He sniffed the dirt clod, it smelled of sulfur.Really, he should take this to Appocca, but something was holding him back. Was it for good or for evil? He didn’t know. Turing it in now just felt wrong. All he could do was hope his instinct was not wrong.

After lighting a single candle Pyre sat down at his desk to read the letter. Gently, he pulled the letter’s seal careful not to break the surface emblem. The letter was a single page of his father’s cramped script. It was a bit hard to read. He held it to the candlelight.

Dear Pyre,

I hope this finds you well. We are all well. Your mother sends her love. She is quite happy with a baby in the house, though the baby, though as you know Grandpa Wert is not one of your mother’s favorite people. By some miracle they have maintained their civility. I fear though that this is not a state that can be sustained indefinitely. As soon as we have the crops planted your brother, and our current help are going to begin construction of a cottage on our property for Wert and his family. Pray for your mother and her tongue. Pray for the peace of our household.

We appreciate your letters. They are a so important to your mother. You know how she worries. My own prayer is that you are not in any danger. Be careful and alert Pyre. I am uneasy with this latest addition of Guards. There are so many now. Still all things do come to an end and it is my hope that in time, our lives may resume a more normal state. For now, we will carry on as I know you carry on. I am so very proud of you.

Your dutiful Father, Rehn Holz

With his finger tip Pyre traced his father’s signature. His father was worried, as was Pyre. How long would it be before life did return to normal? Would it ever return to normal? Honestly Pyre couldn’t see how it ever could. The world was not the same place it had been a year ago. Though he was thankfulAppocca sent an entire troop to Tashe, it brought no comfort to Pyre. If Fand needed that much protection, she was in real danger. Pyre didn’t want her living in a cottage away from the house, away from his father’s protection. Uncle Wert and Mother were going to have to find away to just get along dispute their conflicting personalities.

A loud gurgle from his unhappy stomach bubbled up. He reached for the ginger elixir. Perhaps it would calm his unsettled stomach and mind. He uncorked it. His cubicle filled with scent of boiled ginger. It smelled of home. Home, he closed his eyes. A sudden vision of Fand flashed through his mind. She was standing on the front porch, her eyes fixed on the sky. What was she looking for? He heard her call his name. His mind traveled out toward Tashe. It raced at a great speed and then hit solid resistance. He could not reach her. Someone or something was stopping him from communicating with her. The vision disappeared.