NEW DIRECTIONS p.1

“Isaiah, we are so very sad to see you go. You are among the best workers we’ve ever had.” Lord Huxley rewarded him with the very same compliment every time they spoke.

“Pleased to be of service, my Lord.”

“Oh yes, boy. Indeed, it seems you have been immensely pleased here. Brother, are you sure you will need him? He is probably no good for those wild journeys of yours anyway.” It seemed to be something in between a joke and a half-hearted attempt to keep him there, for they had already discussed and agreed on the matter, and both he and Tzelem were ready to ride out. Isaiah felt slightly offended by the remark – although it was true, and although he suspected it to be a strange way for the Patron to show his appreciation.

“He’s coming.” Tzelem replied, and Lord Huxley rolled his eyes and sighed exaggeratedly.

“Well, alright then.” He said, turning towards his former worker with a throw of his cape (dyed a similar shade as the wine Isaiah suspected he’d consumed at least half a glass of). The Patron then mimicked an apologetic frown, twirling his blonde, finely trimmed mustache that was at least two shades lighter than his younger brother’s.

“This is the price we pay for our heritage boy, and all we can do is to bear the burden with grace. If you decide not to, you will always be welcome back here, and we’ll make sure there’s a free bed for you.” His words felt more comforting than they should have, for Isaiah had already told himself there would be no going back. Still, it was nice knowing that if things did turn very bad, the fortress would be his sanctuary. Though a potentially dangerous thought, the assurance calmed his nerves.

“Now,” the Patron said for everyone to hear, holding his arms out before searching the pockets of his west. They always appeared terribly tight, and this one had delicate, golden threads drawing a plant like pattern over the silky, black fabric. “Here is your salary.” He pulled out a small, dark, green bag from his pocket and handed it over to him. Looking inside, Isaiah found four large, gold coins.

“My Lord?”

“Your payment – one coin for each year. If you come back, I’ll give you two a year, maybe even three!” He winked at him, now standing so close, Isaiah could see that strange flicker in his eyes. Some had prattled about it, suggesting the patron was unwell in more than one way, and with this gesture he wondered if it might be some truth to it.

“Thank you, my Lord.” He uttered, astonished, as he’d already been gifted a new, black cloak identical to Tzelem’s. His impression had always been they under no circumstances were getting paid for their labor – that this was the very reason that captives complained about being captives. Gold coins was not the usual form of payment in Delta, and it was the first time he’d held any in his own hand. Unlike many of his companions, he’d never really cared for them either – still he thought he’d might be able to spend them while still in the Nahbí region. Perhaps a good spade or a rake would be of use – a nice gift to bring home. He put them in his pack, taking nothing more than his knife and one change of clothes (initially, he’d brought a spade too, but Tzelem had told him it was foolish and unnecessary). Before turning to the saddle, he nodded towards Lady Huxley that was standing in the shade some feet away. In a way her silence and dissatisfaction were better compliments than her husband’s words or gold could ever be.

Some of the children waved as Isaiah rode towards the gates on the largest (and only) horse, he’d ever sat on by himself. Nineteen hands long, it seemed to him Indra had to be the largest animal in the world. He’d suggested taking a smaller one that he’d made himself known with for a year – but Tzelem insisted he needed a horse that could keep up with his own stallion. For once Lord Huxley had agreed with his brother. The mare had recently been given to them from the Zuras – seemingly being a way of paying their respects to the patrons. Seeing the fact that Lord Huxley never rode, he had kindly regifted her to Isaiah, seeing that he was on a mission on the Patron’s behalf. She was a wholly black and marvelous animal. One he did not feel worthy or competent enough to be riding in the slightest. Climbing her for the first time had been an awkward and apologetic act, and nothing like he’d once pictured it would be, dreaming of horse riding as a young boy. Still, he rode out, hoping his gift would be fast enough to escape whatever danger they’d might encounter. If he was as lucky as he felt there and then, she might even be able to outrun his master, carry him back home and give him something more than just gold coins and a rake to show for.