11th Day of Harvest Season
I had meant to begin today’s entry recounting the changes at the farm, unfortunately events unfolded that now push my thoughts into darker territory. Brother Milton and I took every precaution when we left the temple. We waited until the bells stopped ringing, leaving during the darkest period of night. We exchanged our silver robes for dull brown. We left by the southern gate, and circled around the city, avoiding the fields of the dead where the priests carted the previous day’s victims. We spoke with no one about our plans, save Wohlrin and Mouse. That Imorgan knew I might leave comes as no surprise. How she knew the details is cause for concern.
I spotted the spy by the wood piles. Noreen and Ivette were showing me the row of stakes they had carved and planted by the eastern side of the fields when I saw something shimmering within the small copse of trees that borders the property. I approached cautiously, anger, and dread, rising within me the closer I came.
“Taking a stroll, Brother Trinn?” I asked him, when I was close enough to determine his identity. “Have you tired already of watching innocents die?”
“So this is your secret, is it?” he asked and stepped out. As he walked toward us, he combed his fingers through the ripe wheat stalks. “Tell me, Borchain, is it the food, or these urchins you want all for yourself?”
Noreen and Ivette stood in front of me and I have never felt such pride, nor so responsible for someone else’s life. I walked around the girls, placing a hand of reassurance on each shoulder as I passed.
“What do you want, Trinn? If it’s food, take a bag of grain to your master on your way back home.”
“We serve the same master, you and I, Borchain.”
“I serve the Seven Sisters of Light.”
“As do I, along with their chosen representative, Grand Cardinal Imorgan. Or do you dispute her claim of office?”
“Trinn, it’s a long walk back to the temple. Take the grain. Pack some food. Refill your water. You can be on your way before the sun has reached its zenith.”
“Don’t worry, old man. I plan to leave, but not before I send for men-“
The arrow came out of nowhere. Looking back, I realize I should have checked on Niles first. I should have remembered my promise and asked Hilla about her unease. I should have asked what rules they have for strangers. Life, I’ve discovered, is shaped more by what we fail to do, than what we do.
Trinn lives–barely. We stopped the bleeding and pulled the arrow. He sleeps. Tomorrow, we shall see if he wakes. I want to claim innocence, while I praise the Silver Crowns he isn’t able to follow through on whatever threat the arrow had cut short. How guilty does that make me? Even more frightening, what else will I discover about myself?