Flicker (15 page)

chapter twenty-one

A
fter the Procession, the Council reads a passage from the sacred texts, but I can’t focus. I’m star-struck in the most unexpected way. The Nobleman commands the room with the nod of his head, the closing of his eyes. It isn’t just the light emitting from his body, either. He has a strong face, chiseled and defined. His appearance says,
Trust and believe in me.
As shallow or shortsighted as it sounds, I’ll accept anything he promises. However weak it is to admit such a thing, it’s true. The service passes in an instant, and I remember to breathe once he leaves the platform and walks out of the sanctuary.

After the Haven begins to clear, Hana shakes my shoulder, releasing me from the trance.

“You okay, Lucy?”

“Yeah, of course. I just … I don’t know….”

“They were right,” Hana says, shaking her head.

“Who was right?” I ask.

“When I was in the dark room, voices kept whispering around me, saying I must do my best so I could be in the light. I didn’t know what that meant, but I was so scared of the dark, I thought anything would be better. But that wasn’t just
better.
That was better
than anything
.”

“That’s why you have to be good, Hana.” Timid says. “So when the Nobleman comes, you can see him, so you can see The Light. I tried telling you.”

“I’ll be good every day of my life.”

I wish I could tell her this is some sort of trickery with lights … but I saw him, and I can’t argue with her logic. I want to be good, too.

Honor comes over to us, with Perfection and Agreement in tow, arms crossed, lips pursed. “Lucy, you and Perfection have been requested to have the evening meal with the Nobleman, the Councilmen, and their chosen Vessel-mates. Dinner will be served in the great room.”

I shake my head confused. “How will we see? Won’t it be too bright to eat with him around?” I ask.

“If by
him
you mean the Nobleman, then no. The Nobleman can control the light he emits and when. It wouldn’t be practical to be blindingly bright at all times, would it, Lucy?” Honor shakes her head at me like I’m a fool.

“No, of course, I’m an idiot,” I say, still dazed by the Nobleman’s presence.

“It is pretty spectacular seeing it for the first time, I don’t mean to be brash,” Honor says. “I suppose when you don’t know what to expect it can be hard to comprehend. That’s why we don’t say much to new Vessels, like I told you when you arrived. Practicing patience can sometimes be the best way to understand.” Honor’s words charge the air, shaking my mind out of the haze the service put me in.

Yes, patience is a good thing; unless you’re so patient you let your only friend rot in a darkened cell until she becomes crazy.

“Lucy, why don’t you head to the
Bathhouse
for a soak, relax. This evening is important for all of us,” Honor says, eyeing me strangely, being friendlier than before.

“I was going there,” Perfection complains.

“No, Perfection, go with Lucy. You know the Nobleman, tell Lucy what to expect at dinner. She doesn’t have a clue. Make sure she doesn’t say or do something that makes the Refuge look foolish. We need his source.”

“Fine.” Perfection and I say at the same time. I am quick to agree because as much as I hate to say it, I want to get closer to the Nobleman so I can understand what he does to shine such a light. I press my hands together, considering what is inside me, and wonder if Mom’s right, maybe we do have something in common. Remembering what Charlie said about the prophet being a human-battery I wonder how I hadn’t thought of it since then. But the Nobleman is more than a battery, he has a light that put me in a trance, and I want to go back to that place where I let the worries of the world slip away.

I want to believe.

****

We slip into the soaking tubs quietly; no chatter on our walk down the hall.

“So are you ready to talk to him, Lucy?” Perfection asks with her eyes closed, as she soaks up the steam.

“Will they let us?” I hadn’t considered I’d be allowed to talk to him. I imagine the Council and their Vessels at long tables, the Nobleman front and center. I think of King Arthur and the Round table, fairy tales I read as a child.

“Well, maybe not at the dinner. He’s pretty quiet, last time he was here, six months ago; he and I had a special moment together after dinner one night. So I imagine he’ll want some time alone with me.”

“And what did you do, during your alone time?” I ask, irritated that she’s so intent on making me jealous.

“We walked in the hallway, back to my room.”

“And then what?”

“Well, I mean, he said some really sweet things to me before he left. We’ve known each other forever, Lucy.”

I can tell she’s hoping it sounds better than it is. Not that it matters; I can’t let myself be pulled into the game the Council has set. They moved Basil as a pawn; they won’t use me as another chess piece.

I remember playing that game of strategy with Dad, he’d set the pieces with meticulous care, then watch me like a hawk as I made each move. He never could beat me. Each time I won, instead of congratulating me on my victory, he’d chastise me for what he would have done differently. When I played a flawless game, he’d manufacture something to criticize. He used the game against me for years. I don’t want the choices I make to be used against me by the Council in the same way. 

“That’s great, Perfection. I’m sure you captivated him, mind and spirit,” I inflate. I don’t need Perfection messing with me; I have no interest in what she’s after. The Nobleman is handsome beyond belief, but I won’t go that deep into The Light for him, or for anyone.

“You think so? You aren’t just saying that?” Her insecurity surfaces as she says those innocent words, her confidence has cracked since I first met her. In this moment, looking at her in the transparency of the soaking tub, she’s just a girl wanting to be loved, or at least considered.

“I’m no competition for you,” I reassure her. “My hair’s a mess, my skin’s not smooth like yours, and I always get my words jumbled when I’m nervous. I don’t know what it means to be in The Light, not like you do. Surely he’ll want a mate who’s spent her life learning his way.”

I say those things to make Perfection feel better, but also because it’s true. Compared to her, I’m a disaster.

“Well, if you are going to be so sweet, I can help you get ready in my room if you like. Timid’s way too young to be doing the hair of a Vessel going to dinner with the Nobleman. She keeps putting your hair in odd, off-center braids.” Perfection gives me a big smile, and steps out of the tub, wrapping a bathrobe around her small waist. The confident girl I met a week ago has returned.

I smile back, not admitting the braids are often done by me, not a nine-year old. I’m glad she and I are not so alike, after all. Perfection wants to walk deeper into the halls of this walled-in-life and I want to break free.

*****

The Arthurian feast I imagined isn’t too far off. The great room is filled with tables bursting with food fit for royalty, and although the room is still sparsely decorated, it feels festive with flowers and candelabras lining the center of the tables. The Councilmen have each chosen one of their mates to join us for dinner, but I don’t recognize them, save for Honor.  Perfection and I stand with the other Vessels to the side of the room waiting for the men to enter.

My stomach is filled with butterflies borne from nervousness, which irritates me, as I’ve been intentional about saying this charade means nothing to me. In fact, presenting me before the Nobleman should calm the fluttering inside me, not intensify it.

Yet, the butterflies are real, because my experience in the Haven is always real. I smooth my dress down; thinking of the whining Perfection did while we got ready. She went on about how it wasn’t fair that I was in yellow and everyone else is in white. She doesn’t think I should be the only one who gets to stand out. When I pointed out that I haven’t had any ceremonies yet to give me the privilege of wearing white, she just huffed.

I want to put those ceremonies off for as long as possible. I’ve avoided them this long because the Council wanted to review my test with the Nobleman, I hope they take their time.

The dress does look pretty on. I spent so many years in hand-me-down-hatch clothes that I feel beautiful for the first time in my life. The neckline on this frock is high, and the simple lines are modest, and I’ve seen Mom’s old photo albums from school dances to know this is hardly considered formal wear. Still, the plainness of the dress causes my eyes to shine a bit brighter and my hair frames my face in a gentle way as tendrils slip from my braid.

The music wafts through the room as a trio of Vessels sing in the corner. My nerves ease as the sound covers me. The Councilmen enter and find their Vessels, leaving Perfection and I to wait together. Everyone lines up in a processional to greet the Nobleman, Perfection and I at the end. The room is charged with excitement and it intrigues me, every other event at the Refuge has been filled with admonition. Perfection bites her lip with nervous energy; but I’m filled with blooming curiosity.

My worries about the Nobleman being too bright to endure seem founded as he enters the great room, pushing through the double doors. He gratifies the room with his blaze of glory, filling all space with the light he bears.

I gasp in spite of myself. I wanted to dismiss The Light, but the Nobleman draws something out in me, the same thing the Haven does. His light ignites me. He tones down his rays as he begins to greet the Vessels and Councilmen.              

He’s taller than me and holds a gracious strength in his shoulders, but he looks tired. He carries a weight around his neck, a burden, and though he’s bright and bold, just by looking at him I can tell there’s more beneath his glittering surface.

The men on the Council look so old compared to the Nobleman. He seemed imaginary before, this god-like man, but he’s a teenager. Only he is an illuminating one, with emerald eyes that I can’t bear to look at for longer than a second. His blinding incandescence has tempered down some in our presence, but his skin looks like the dancing stars under my eyelids when I close them tight. He is mystical and magical, and with a frown I realize we
all
look dull in comparison. Even the flawlessness of Perfection dims in his presence.

He could make a believer out of anyone.

As he walks towards me, I force myself to blink once, twice, three time’s the charm. I shake my head, wanting to break the spell he’s cast, needing to be stronger than the dazzled girl I’ve become in his presence. He stands before Perfection and I, beaming, while I stare back at him awe-struck.

“Nobleman, I’ve missed you!” Perfection says, anxiety dripping from her spluttering syllables. She cocks her head and smiles with a bit of a crazed look across her face.  The word desperate comes to mind.

“Nice to see you again, Perfection.” His words are clipped, but she doesn’t notice, she grins like a maniac at him.

“This is the new Vessel, Lucy, who we discussed earlier.” Councilman Discernment gestures to me.

“Pleased to meet you, Lucy.” The Nobleman tips his head. His voice steady and sure and I wonder what it would be like to remain calm when so many people count on you.

I try to look at him, but my heart beats fast, in a good way, forcing my eyes to the ground. A slight smile crosses my lips, the Nobleman is more than I expected.

Perfection cuts in before I can speak, her words have returned.

“Nobleman, we have so many things to talk about! It’s been so long since you’ve been here.” Perfection jumps at the chance to speak.

“You always have much to say, Perfection.” He smiles good-naturedly. I want him to be condescending or cruel, another thing to add to the reasons of why I believe The Light is a farce, but he doesn’t. He simply walks to the table and pulls out a chair once each Vessel has found their seats on the opposite side of the table as the men.

Helper Vessels walk in and out, pouring our glasses full of wine and serving the food. For a moment I feel as though I’m back at the compound, sitting around the table with my parents, Diane, and the others. Looking around at the company, however strange it is, I’m reminded that it’s nice to be around people.

It doesn’t hurt that I am sitting directly across from the distinguished Nobleman himself.

“Lucy, I hear you traveled on foot to the dock,” the Nobleman says.

“Um….” I hesitate, wanting to conserve my words and keep my story to myself, but that feeling disappears the moment I look across the table at him. I’m usually so tense when I’m put on the spot, so this is unexpected. “Partly on foot, but also on the horse of a cowboy … he helped guide us to the boat.” Wanting to divert attention from myself I add, “You know Perfection really likes horses. Isn’t that right?” I’m making this up, but I want her to get in on the conversation and not think I intentionally monopolized the Nobleman’s time. “That book you read … about horses….” I’m stretching here, I know, but I want to move his attention to where it belongs. I don’t know much about the politics of girls, but I know having Perfection angry with me won’t help anyone.