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'Why not try to make the most of what you now have rather than cry over what you never can get again.' 'But this is too much. In her first throw she hit me below the belt!' 'Stomach it and prudently communicate your displeasure later on.' Easier said than done. The advice from the voice in his heart looked perfect. But the devastating exasperation would not take to it. It had taken a toll on him for two hours already. Lassitude now drowned him in the sofa on which anger had earlier floored him in supineness. It was a quiet fit while it lasted.
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From the time he gave his life to Christ, ten years ago, he had worked through his temperamental disposition to provocation. It was transformed from tantrum to sulkiness. The change was really necessary for him to continue as a faith possessor and not just a professor then. Countless times he had had to get rededicated to the course of the Christ in those his developing days. No thanks to the unchristian verbal outbursts. Each time he responded to the first impulse when angered, he would be digressed a bit from the Way. And the muddling of the conviction to repent with the devil's deception of loss of salvation would make him go a day or two on a prodigal journey. It would take the next available altar call to save the day and his soul. Though commitment to God's service along the line had saved him from the toing and froing, he still had issues with anger. Anger had been around him for donkey years. Even in his teens, Mama Sola preferred sending him on an errand when he was boiling. She would say,
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'That is when he would deliver on my errand in no time at all.' She was right. The young Segun would neither greet anyone on the way nor throw banters the whole length of the fit which usually outlasted the assignment. 'Segun no longer boils. Thank God for Christ. But he can still be too sullen for comfort.' One of his childhood friends had remarked during Segun's last birthday when it was time for free-for-all remarks. Segun admitted it was his cultivated weak point.
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It was a quarter past eight. AY was having a sweet sleep on her matrimonial bed. She turned her side unconsciously. Her sleeping lips moved and muttered some undecipherable words for a long second before they were sealed again – a strange reflex for an adult, much less a female adult. Certainly, she was in the middle of some dream.
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Back in the sitting room, Segun was still lying on the three-seater. He was lost in thought, oblivious of the darkness that had crept into the room. Visibility was difficult but then his sight was not here but there, in the mind. The silhouette of shapes and figures in the room, imposed by the protracted power cut of Power Holdings, the Nigerian electricity authority, cried for illumination from a lantern at the very least. Segun's mind was too preoccupied. Out of mind. Out of sight. 'Tolu was right. My sullenness is very unpleasant. Not only to others but also to me myself.' He thought. He was thinking about the torrents of thoughts that always bedevilled him and sapped his strength dry whenever he was in a sulk.
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No, I won't with my own hands destroy my home. I might not have liked her approach. Her presentation might be rude. But then there's no smoke without fire. I must get to the root of it. But till we have a heart-to-heart, I give her the benefit of the doubt. I'm learning to lean. Just then AY walked into the sitting room quietly and carefully. With her right hand she scrambled for the way until the hand came to rest on the arched back of the two-seater. Her hands ran the arch through its length until she got to the far end of the sofa, opposite the kitchen door. She did not bother to call out to her husband. The absence of the lantern light had its usual conclusion; her man had either slept off on the rug or in one of the sofas.
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In the kitchen she located a box of matches and the lantern. She struck four sticks successively and failed. Each time, the reddish brown spark substance produced flame but the attached uncooperative stem stifled it almost immediately. 'Ah! Niger! Nothing is of quality again in Nigeria. Gone are the days of the popular and effective triple-picture match boxes.' She breathed her frustration.
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She was lucky on the fifth attempt. Quickly she suspended the transparent glass globe with the side-lever and torched the lantern's wick with the flame. The globe released. The flame regulated. Something told her to check the blue polystyrene food container. Her eyes popped when she saw the three wraps of eba, a food made from boiled and creamed grains of cassava, intact. She instantly knew she was in for trouble. What has she done wrong. She started some self-probe.
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For some five minutes, her legs would not agree with her heart on presenting herself at the sitting room for the obvious subpoena. Her eyes surveyed the kitchen aimlessly but vigorously, like the proverbial ear-cut thief. At last she summoned up the courage and advanced towards the sofa-and-electronic-gadgetry room, albeit slowly. The light led the way she sluggishly followed. Then she lowered her eyes on the sofa for three. There lay her beloved. He turned in a reflex towards the infiltrating light and his eyes looked horrible when AY zoomed in on them. She has jumped into the river already, fearing the cold now is useless. Though the grim face was highly repellent she drew closer and closer to it. Then she did what she never in her wildest dream thought she would do: she sank to her knees before her cross partner. Her tender hands seduced him to forgive while her mouth quickly laid out her reason.
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'Sweetheart, I'm very sorry. It was not intentional. I was having some headache. So, I took Panadol and a nap to help me up.' Segun was floored by the explanation. His seething was stilled instantly, like the soup in an aluminium pot. One pleasant thought made a mockery of him. 'Women, so powerful! What is it they want they won't get!' He got up, sat up, helped her up and tendered a complementary apology.
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'I'm sorry too in any way I've overreacted. I'm again sorry if I've been too harsh on you. We are still learning to understand each other. But it will no go without saying that communication builds a strong home. I wouldn't have felt offended if you had included a sentence or two about your headache in your welcoming words. I would have even forgotten about the food first, come around to the bedroom and stroke your hair. And the anointing in my hand would have cast off the intruding headache.' She beamed. 'I'm sorry sweetheart. I will take note. But it's not too late for the stroking.' She feigned an headache, 'I'm still feeling the headache.' The now love-drunken husband readjusted his posture, like a pastor swinging his shoulders to feel a newly given designer suit.
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'Makaru ma tarasmiku!' the man of God was in the spirit as his hands descended on the pick-and-drop braids. AY responded promptly like one being delivered; she wriggled and jerked from head to waist. 'Ah! Man of God, I feel like falling!.' 'Maskarururi! Fall! Fall! Fall!' He tipped her head and she fell, like a pack of Whot cards, on his lap. 'You are an unusual deliveree; you should fall on your back and not forwards. The presence of your head on my lap is tempting. Get up and let me re-deliver you! Looska!' How they both laughed at the well-acted home-grown drama. AY eventually served the eba with okra soup. They ate their fill amidst teasing and pulling of legs. The drama then proceeded to the bedroom. It was a night to remember. CHAPTER 7
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One year passed with speed. No bloated face, no protruded tum and no pale skin. AY became worried. Every time she saw her period, her tears flowed along. 'When will I become a mother?' Segun could not provide an answer to the incessant question. All he could do was to persuade her. At times, a mild reproof would do: 'Just a year down the line and you shed tears this much. What would Sarah have done after fifty years of marriage and no child. She would have shed blood I suppose. Why will you kill yourself before the child itself comes? You don't need all these. God has not forgotten us. He will give us the fruit of marriage at the appointed time.' He would end up diluting the reproof with a sermon. 'But when is the appointed time?'
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'Only God knows that. At any rate I know this: God's plan for us is the best for us.' 'I know too. But why not let us go for a medical checkup so as to know where to direct or re-direct our prayers?' 'I have no problem with that.' Tests upon tests followed. Different gynaecologists and infertility experts were visited. The diagnoses and results pointed in one direction: nothing was wrong with them. AY was overwhelmed with the outcome. Faced with the fast approach of the second year, she found the clean bill of health grossly unacceptable. Now that she had run short of ideas, she was compelled to wait for the appointed time. * * * * *
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Later in the year the couple had visitors. It was from the woman's side as usual. Segun often had wondered in his bachelorhood days why it had to be those of the wife's side who made the most calls. Reports from his married friends then elicited his quest. And up till the moment he had not yet found a solid answer. His mother- and sister-in-law were the visitors. Sade, AY's younger sister was on vacation. She therefore decided to follow her mother down on a stay with the couple. It was the third at the one-and-a-half-year old home. They planned to stay three weeks – the whole hug of Sade's 200 level first semester break.
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In the night of the first day, when the husband and wife had finally retired to their matrimonial chamber from the day's bustle, Segun uncorked the displeasure he had tried hard to bottle away from their guests. 'Why would Mama and Sade come all the way from Ikija to stay with us for not just one or two days but three full weeks without any prior information? In this world of GSM! Or were you informed but failed to tell me?' he queried.
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'No, Sweetheart I am as well surprised seeing them. And immediately I registered my disapproval. I most especially rebuffed Sade, who ought to know better, for not making contact with me on phone prior to their coming. Mama tried to explain how they attempted to make the phone contact only to be met with the news of a two-day loss of GSM network signals to the village and its environs. She said she insisted on coming for the visit because her entire being was crying out to see us and she could not bear it any longer. I was still not satisfied with her explanation because I had at the back of my mind the fear of how you would react to the situation. Mama read my feelings and offered to go back to the village immediately. That floored me. I quickly mellowed and told her it has not gotten to that. And you know what sweetheart?'
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'What?' Segun found himself being the respondent. 'I was humbled and relieved at the same time when you came in and received them with unexpected conviviality!' 'Uhmm, grammar!' 'You taught me. Honestly, sweetheart, they, who had sat precariously all the while awaiting your arrival to know their fate, stretched their legs and felt at home when they saw your warmth.' She untucked the insecticide-treated mosquito net over the bed at her side and climbed down. She then went on her knees before her 'head' who had all the while sat on the edge of the bed.
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'Olowo-ori-mi, my sweetest heart, permit me, on behalf of my family, to apologize to you. I know it has not been easy feeding the two of us much less two more mouths coming out of the blue to join the number. For love's sake please bear with us. And the patience comes with an expiry date – three weeks.'
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'Please, get up,' he helped her up, 'I was not angry, only surprised. We have always been well informed of Mama's visits in the past. So I was wondering if all was well when she burst in on us this time around. But it was perplexity all the way when I got to know it was just a three week long chatty call. I tried but in vain to understand the rationale behind this. And the best person to supply the reason is you. And with all your explanation I think Mama's excuse is tenable. Such Mama's passion is a surge that can never wane until it is fed to satiety. What is wrong in a mother's heart crying out for her daughter. The blame in all these goes to the treacherous GSM operators. They only concern themselves with increasing their customer base and making more money. They couldn't care less about improving on their epileptic services. Shame on NCC that could not mete out stiff measures against them. They are just all out to get us ripped off of our hard-earned money. I wish I were NCC Executive Vice-Chairman. I would without delay place a ban on all those useless street promos they stage to rake in more customers and instruct them to rather give those already hooked up to their network value for their money,' he was fuming.
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'Aluta continua! The activist in my husband has already taken over.' She feigned a clenched fist and started a mock protest song. 'Solidarity forever Solidarity forever Solidarity forever We shall always fight for our right.' Segun laughed over it but he was not done yet. 'But honestly honey, you can't imagine the kind of havoc these people are wreaking around.' 'You mean like the one having to do with Mama's visit and us?' she had been bought over. 'That's even a drop in the ocean.' 'A hyperbole I suppose?' 'No, no, no, not at all. Are you not aware of the poor GSM services these days wherein your call is misdirected to someone you never know from Adam sometimes speaking a lingo you never hear from the womb.'
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'Of course I am. Was it not of recent that my friend, Sayo . . . you know her now! That one that said you were two years her senior in Lantoro High School.' 'Yes, yes. That diminutive lady.' 'That's it. She forgot her phone in her friend's place but thought she had lost it. What heightened her fear was when we called the phone and it was a strongly accented Hausa man who managed to identify himself as Alhaji that picked it. Only on redialing did we discover that the phone was with her friend. Her call had been re-routed to an Alhaji. Since then some of our mischievous friends never cease to tease her, "When next are you going to see Alhaji? Please don't forget your phone there this time around o," they would say.'
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'Honey, your friend's case is better. It only ended in teasing. Let me give you this vivid and lucid case which ended up in a broken home. A nearly five year old marriage ended on the platter of these people's negligence.' 'What!' she suspended the closing of the gaped mouth for minutes.
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'The wife's friend was trying to reach her over the phone to extracool at midnight. The husband picked it and it was a male voice he heard at the other end. Meanwhile the friend could not hear anything and her credit burned on. She abruptly terminated the call. But the husband had heard enough. He flared up and said he believed the man must have cut off when he discovered he had been caught in the act. The wife tried in vain to convince him from the call records that it was her friend by the name Sola who called. The long and short of it was that he sent her packing with two kids.' 'Sweetheart! I think the foundational problem in that marriage is distrust.' 'Agreed. But the GSM poor service added petrol to the fire which consumed the relationship whole.'
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AY suddenly assumed the posture of one in deep thought and that did not escape Segun's notice. 'Honey, what is it?' 'Let me not bother you with it. It's not all that important.' 'What do you mean by it's not all that important? I want to hear it.' 'Okay. Promise you won't be cross with me.' 'I promise,' the more eager to know. 'Will you ever trust my explanation if something like that happens to us?' 'Hah-hah! You know now!' 'Eh, I know but I just want to ...' Segun stopped her mouth with his index finger strapped across her lips and with the other hand stroking her hair he spoke a la their wedding day. 'Yes, I do. I will ever trust and love you. So help me God.'
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Quickly he switched position from the bridegroom to the joining priest and in line made his voice guttural to spell out the adapted creed, 'Will you, Ayoolape Deborah Oyediran, trust and love Adesegun Peter Toriola as your wedded husband all the days of your life?' With sheep's eyes she promptly thinned her voice and responded in a soprano. 'Yes, I do. So help me God!' The two faces became radiant and the night caught the light. After the marriage act and before sleep finally closed their eyes Segun still found the time to chip in the million-dollar question: 'Why do the wife's people visit more than the husband's?' and he was stunned with the straightforward answer he got from his wife who responded sharply as if she too had been thinking about if for some time.
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'Simple!' She said, 'Anyone who visits a couple will have more time to spend with the wife, the homemaker, than the husband, the hustler. And who can feel much more at home with the wife than her own people? Chikenah!' 'Uhm! The sage old woman has spoken.' Segun put his hands together in low ovation. 'Than-k you m-y s-o-n,' she shook her voice like a very aged woman. 'You are not serious, who is your son? Thou wizened great great grandmother,' he tickled her and the conjoint giggles and laughter turned the night's light up the more. CHAPTER 8 Mama could not complete her holiday. A matter requiring her urgent attention arose in Ikija after two weeks with the Toriolas.
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'Ah Mummy, ki lo de!' AY's heart was thumping as she collected her phone back from Mama to terminate the call from the village. 'Kosilaabi o. Ma kaya re soke!' [No problem. Don't give yourself any heartache] Mama assured her daughter. She then went ahead to explain to the two agitated children that it was her kolanut trade that had sent the invitation. Satisfied with the explanation, the two then began making preparations for Mama's travelling. That was Thursday. Mama travelled on Friday. On Saturday, an event took place that sent the other guest to follow on mama's trail before the expiration of her intended length of stay.
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AY had gone out to plait her hair. She was not expected to be back until two hours later. That had been her grouse with the hairdressers in the locality; they were too slow. But then she must dress her hair when due; if not for her own sake at least for her husband's. Segun was still in bed though half-awake. Twenty minutes after his wife had left for the hairdresser's he felt a supple hand on his bare breast. The tenderness message travelled wildly all over his body. Back so soon? That was what he wanted to instruct his vocal cord to convey through his mouth when on opening his eyes he met a different figure altogether by the bedside. She sat halfway her length from the waist upwards almost nude with only a cleavage-advertising wrapper, loosely tied, on. * * * * * *
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Ay could no longer contain her impatience. She had had to wait for twenty minutes for an early bird's hair to be set. Despite the hairdresser's pacifying pleasantness she stood to go instructing the hairdresser to flash when ready for her. * * * * * * Segun's resistance weakened with the persistent stay of the tender hand on his cold chest and the elegant face in his electrified gaze. 'You sent for me?' beamed the owner of the hand, with winking and goggling accompanying.
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Segun was completely lost. His system was on fire. How could he escape this mountain that had come to Mohamed even when Mohamed never gave it a thought to get to it! His flesh was already caving in. Where was the libido-holding power of his bachelor days that kept him chaste till the wedding night? Or has his first carnal knowledge broken the hold irredeemably? It was no time for question, but action. Blood pumped turbulently into his male machinery. He grabbed her shoulder to commence touchery and her wrapper easily fell. At that instant, a bizarre grace fell on him and what he couldn't do in front of the curtain he did in the full glare of nudity. His inner strength was roused as he came to his senses. He immediately let go. Furrows of anger disfigured his countenance very quickly,
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'Get out now!' He shouted at the top of his lungs. And that one hastily covered herself back with her wrap and ran out like a rabid dog. She knew too well that the man had successfully weathered the seduction storm. Segun was still panting out the so much adrenalin pumped into his system when AY burst into the bedroom with alarm. 'Sweetheart, what happened? Whom were you shouting at like that!' her eyes, as well as her hands, joined in the demand for an answer. Segun gave her the graphical details. Message decoded, it was now AY's turn to take the baton of tantrum.
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'You mean she came in here and attempted to lure you into sleeping with her on my matrimonial bed. Unbelievable! Ah! Sade! My God! S-a-d-e!' she stormed out and made for the guest room where Sade sat on the floor coiled like a tightly wound spring in shame. She was given the beating of her life despite assuming a pleading posture in welcome of the boiling sister. 'Please! Please! I'm sorry! Anti mi, please! Please forgive me! It's devil's handiwork!' she sputtered amidst the drenching rain of open-palm blows. Segun's intervention could do nothing to stop the exploding smacks until exhaustion did. Then AY broke down and both the beaten and her bailiff threw a weeping party. Segun came to the one that was his, put his arm under her armpit and guided her to their room.
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The weight the situation placed on her heart was not as much as the subfertility it reminded her of. In the bedroom, she wept cat and dog. All of Segun's homilies and consoling bounced off her earwax achieving nothing. The futility made him resign to the usual last resort – subtle threat. 'Is the childlessness on your own side alone? OK, I've gotten children from some lady elsewhere, eh? Or did the doctor say anything is wrong with you or with me? C'mon, we are in this together now! Why behaving as if the entire burden lies with you? I've been trying to pacify you since, you refused to be pacified. Don't force me to change my mind! What's with you now?'
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It worked as it always did. She tightened her hold around her man, gave the final sob and sigh, a forced calm then ensued. Segun finished it up with a continuous stroking of her hair and the concomitant repetition of the Christian clichΓ©, 'It is well.' Sleep saw their heaviness and, out of pity, came to soothe it. Sade did not allow the glimmer of the next day to open its shutter before she took off under the cover of the gloom. Only God knows what she told Mama, but the couple never exposed her atrocity to a third party. * * * * *
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The heavens wailed loudly and the teardrops pursued after one another to the heart of the earth. The highlands tilted the water towards the lowlands and the lowlands emptied it into drainage. The land was thus cleansed. But the political intrigues making the rounds stained it back with a different sort of dirt – accusations, cross-accusations and counter-accusations. They flew freely in the air. He who loves his head should wear crash helmet, ducking won't help. It was the third term era.
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Actually, the fire started with genuine concerns about constitution review. But because the No. 1 was at daggers drawn with the No. 2, the good intention of the former received a garb of mud from the latter before it left the boardroom for the public domain. The feedback? It could not get messier! The constitution review effort lost its identity to become Third Term Agenda. Opinion polls here, public hearings there. Where will it end? The two sides fought tooth and nail to overcome at the Waterloo – the National Assembly. The parliamentarians were two – the pro-third term and the anti-third term. Those on the fence before were jumping down fast to take sides. The whole wide world was expecting a crescendo soon.
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The venue was the red chamber of the National Assembly. The upper house, the more mature, would have the first go. Nigeria sat before the television to observe the climax of many days of horse-trading, political bickering and mudslinging. The press had had a field day. It was now the turn of the legislature to have the final say. Segun too was glued to the TV like most of the adult portion of the 140 million Nigerians.
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Alas! It was a stunning anticlimax. What a disappointment! The constitution amendment bill was devoid of any serious or sensible polemics. It was decided with a voice vote. When the Senate President demanded for the 'aye' of the draft bill enthusiasts, a muffled silence took over the chamber. Where were the swelling ranks of the pro-third term senators? What could make those with vested interest vastly divested of their interest and that sheepishly? The nays eventually had it at the hit of the gavel but neither exultant joy was written on the faces of the conquerors nor grave disappointment on the countenances of the conquered. Only the observers, across the length and breadth of the land, could not afford to be indifferent. To many of them, it was an utter waste of valuable time and scarce government resources to have embarked on a mission that would only meet a dead end at its full stretch. Segun shared in that view. Why throw the baby out with the bath water? The third term clause should just have been removed while allowing all the vital issues like fiscal federalism, resource control and revenue sharing formula to scale through. Why lavish so much money on the senate constitution review sub-committee and their many public hearings only to sell us a dummy at the end.
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The failed coup of the militarized democracy resurrected the poet in Segun and he put down a verse of it. Its trappings from the outset Look a coup d'Γ©tat But settings at the sunset Cut a cul-de-sac Much ado about hogwash
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Segun was now aware of the pounding pressure on his rectum and he headed towards the john to ease it. As he made an entrance into the conjoined toilet-and-bathroom 1, AY exited the master bedroom for the living room. The TV had been left running. The words of the man on the screen caught her attention. The man, clad in plain blue suit, a sky blue shirt and a chequered tie to match, was one of the operators of modern trado-medical centres in an ongoing traditional medicine trade fair organized by the TV station. He was oratorical and had the charm that would hold his hearer spellbound anytime. He was ahead of the pack. The fluency of his English suggested he was read to some appreciable level. Though AY in her normal self would have hissed and instantly tuned to another station, three factors wormed the man into her heart. One, she was losing hope in this waiting game, she needed a drastic measure. Another, the man claimed that six months were too much for his patients to conceive, and in six months' time the medics would declare hers an infertility case – the medical jargon for two Gregorian years down the exchange of marriage vows without conception. And the last straw that gave her camel's back a compound fracture, the man said the power of herbs and leaves only would do the magic – no incantation, no divination. AY took it all, hook, line and sinker. She copied down the shop stand and also the permanent address of the centre. It was now time for deliberation and decision.
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Should she inform her husband of her intention? Negative! He would never be a party to seeking help in traditional, or as they now christened it, alternative therapy. Had they not once discussed an issue relating to it and Segun had made his stand known! If he was ever to use herbs and leaves for physic he would prefer fetching them from the living plant himself. Going for all those crudely concocted herbal preparations was no option for the fear of fetish or metaphysical involvements even when there was a claim to the contrary.
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Another deliberation was on where to visit the man – his trade fair stand or permanent address. The latter naturally sailed through because of the fear that too many eyes would be there to pry at the former. Thus she concluded the arrangements but acted as if nothing happen when her husband returned from shedding the barbells in his rectum. CHAPTER NINE
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The azure sky romanced the verdant vegetation and the rustic settlement was sandwiched in a festival of blues and greens. AY alighted from the intercity cab and took her journey to the backwater settlement. Eweje is one of the many villages and towns culturally and socially attached to Abeokuta, the headquarters of the Egbas. It is just a five-to-ten minute drive from the main town and has a Baale, the community head that reports to an Abeokuta king who oversees its relevant section of the Egbas. The kings in Abeokuta are not five for fun. Two times AY's left big toe kicked against some stone or stump along the grassy footpath. A bit of superstition worked its way up her heart but her Christian frame shunned it recklessly.
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Lepers never build their colony within the town walls, the old saying goes. The trado-medical centre was sited on the outskirts of the community. Leprosy. Sin. Sinister. Her heart again ran through the flashes but she came out unscathed. As she trod the sinking sandy part of the road, cacophony of school-children chatter surged from a nearby primary school. She checked her time; it was a quarter to twelve. Having confided only in a fellow-teacher of her sneaking out, return she must to school before the second period after the long break for her class. Otherwise, what she cooked and the whole house got razed by fire, her no-nonsense head-teacher would get wind of. And not in vain was Mr. Adekunle called the iron man of NUD Primary School, Obantoko.
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Among the teacher folks in Abeokuta, only the greenhorns would not be in the know. She had had an encounter with him once, not too long ago. It was still fresh; within the post-specialisation regime of primary school pedagogy. She was tardy for her Home Economics class. On getting to the class, Mr. Adekunle was already there, fuming. He gave her the telling-off of her life right in front of the pupils. Never, not even in never-never land, would she wish another chance encounter with him. So, she hurried.
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In no time, the frontage of the lair came to view. The semi-urban bungalow had a low fence of joined wooden posts, tapering at the upper ends, round it. She drew closer. Her eyes caught an object around the lintel and her heart got engaged again. It in fact skipped. 'AY, are you doing the right thing?' her conscience worked the bellows, the bellows of scruples, turbulently. The picture of the previous day burst in on the ember's luminance. The time was 6:45 pm. Pastor Tunji, flanked by his recently wedded wife, was at the Toriola's for the King's business.
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'The Lord asked me to seriously charge you and your household not to relent in your waiting on Him. He said at the appointed time He will come and 'Sarah' will have a baby. Sister AY, it is your turn to be that Sarah. I see Gen. 18:14b read, "At the time appointed I will return, according to the time of life, and Ayoolape shall have a son!"' 'Amen!' responded the couple and Pastor's spouse. 'On a final note, God will want me to leave this scripture with you: Heb. 10:36. Brother Segun, can you please read for us?' 'Ok, sir.' He got his Bible, scuffled it for a moment and eventually rested his search on a page. Then, he ran his eyes down the page to the prescribed verse. 'For ye have need of patience, that, after ye have done the will of God, ye might receive the promise.'
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'Patience is the word, Sister AY.' At the synapse, the words jumped on the train of Memory Present. Patience is the word, Sister AY. Patience is the word. Pa-tience-is-the-word-Sis-ter-A-Y! Each syllable hit her heart and the sounding was in thumps. The arc of cowries over the door firmly held the heavy drumsticks of syllables and the rising beats became more and more unbearable. She hesitated for some seconds but eventually made towards turning back.
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'Madam, welcome,' a voice said over her back. Were she palm oil she would congeal to red stone. The only consolation was that it was an inviting voice. She stepped up her courage and turned in the direction of the voice. It is better to turn around and see what will kill you than to swell the rout of those feared dead. What she saw was not a killer but a kid who looked every inch the physician's apprentice, nay, scout. He must had been there all the while watching the pilgrim's progress towards their safe haven and only came to the rescue when the wayfarer seemed to have missed her way and was turning back. Apart, part of his chores was to give every of the path explorer a welcome feel – a sort of a PR job.
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'Have you come to see the doctor, or how can we help you, ma? You seem not familiar with this terrain.' She calmed down and tried to compose herself. 'Thank you, I – I – I've really come to see the doctor,' she spluttered. 'Why, he's at home. Please...' She brought down her voice and motioned the boy to do the same. 'Wait. I will like to find out something from you first.' The boy looked puzzled. What could that be? AY continued, 'The doctor claimed over the TV that he doesn't use juju, but what are those cowries doing over there?'
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The boy in his late teens, burst into a belly laugh. He must have gone at it for a minute or so before realizing the embarrassment he was causing the visitor. He adjusted, apologized and then went ahead to give an answer to the question that had tickled him so much. 'Ma, my oga is a man obsessed with the relics of the glorious history of our people before the Oyinbos came to our land to spoil it. One of such is the cowries. You know, ma, that was the means of exchange for goods and services, our legal tender, then. It has nothing to do with his means of healing.'
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He looked out of the corner of his eyes to see if she would buy the explanation. She did. She swallowed it whole and heaved a great sigh of relief. Now, she was ready for a consultation with Dr. Were, but not without first passing a commendation note on the boy's pleasantness and intelligence. 'What is your name?' 'Lateef, ma!' 'You have a good head on your shoulders, Lateef. You must not end it here.' Lateef beamed and responded, 'Thank you, ma. Actually, I was in SS1 going to SS2 when my only sponsor died. These odd jobs I do to raise enough money for me to go back to school.' 'And God will help your determination.' She dipped her hand into her purse – the biggest luggage you can sneak out of school with – and gave him two crisp one hundred naira notes.
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'Thank you, ma,' he tucked the money in his pocket as he led AY to the consulting room. CHAPTER TEN
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Segun had been pacing the corridor for two hours. Yet, no soft cry from the labour room, but AY's noises all the way. She sang, prayed, groaned, shouted and lamented. Two hours into the labour and not as much as the head of the baby came close to the obstetrician's hand. She pushed until she ran short of the breath to push. The two doctors, one consulting, the other resident, and two midwives were helpless. Eventually, when everything else failed, the leading doctor dashed out and invited Segun to the consulting room. Segun was confronted with the option of a caesarean. It was a tough decision but with the situation at hand he gave informed consent and quickly appended his signature on the paperwork.
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On the way to the theatre, AY's disposition assumed a sharp wonderment. And she engaged an unseen being in a supernal communion.
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'Who are you?... I have nothing to do with you... Leave me alone in Jesus' name... covenant? What covenant?... Yes, I was at Dr Were's place. And so what... I say leave me in... the coin I dropped in the bubbling chalky water. You know about it?... I dropped it actually into your hand? ... Liar! You are a damn liar. Yes?! I took out of the water after dropping the coin. Were said the water contained ground limestone and some purely herbal mixture that would hyper-stimulate pregnancy hormone on contact with metal such as the coin. True to Were's words I took in a month after. So, stop lying. I never had a deal with you. I rebuke you in Je... What! The coin! That's the coin! Ah! The exact coin I dropped into the water. Ah! Deceit! Fraud! Were deceived me! Ah! Were! Were! Doctor, help me tell Segun, my loving husband. Tell him Were deceived me. And I allowed myself to be bought for a price as a sacrifice to Were's thirsty demons. Ah! Segun, I'm sorry!.. Yeh! Please, Death, please, have mercy. Don't strike me. Please don't bring down that cudgel. If I had known I would have ...No, don't hit...Yeh! Yeh! Yeh!'
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She started jerking and gasping for breath. The team forgot about the operation for the moment and quickly grasped the life-saving apparatus. She was put on oxygen and resuscitation pressure was applied on her ribcage to simulate breathing movements. But all failed, woefully failed. She passed on to an uncertain eternity. The medical team saw it all, they were petrified. Breaking the news of the split gourd and its spilt water is enough burden. How can Segun cope with the much more details they saw en route the theatre? They therefore agreed to keep the latter off the record. Segun was broken to the bones when the doctor eventually broke the edited news after a rather long pacifying preamble.
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'AY! AY! AY! My God! My wife, gone?! No!' On and on the emotional turmoil went. The doctor tried his best; only God knew the number of pats on the shoulder, 'Take-heart' and 'Be-a-man' that eventually brought Segun to a momentary calm. With no family member around to offer support – they had all gone out in search of money for the caesarean section – he took his destiny in his hands and walked out in sullen quiet. * * * * *
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The room saw its occupant's predicament and quickly wore a sombre mood to blend in, like the chameleon. Thanks to the power cut and the approaching evening shadows. Exactly a week after the demise of his better half, the haunting shadows were here again. And he was all alone to receive them. Had he not turned away family members and sympathisers after four days of unending flocking!
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Dilemma? Segun was not in a dilemma, but a trilemma; nay, a trilemma of dilemmas. The dilemmas, each historic in itself, from the Biblical to the Shakespearean – Job's to blaspheme or bless, Peter's to deny or defy and Hamlet's to be or not to be – stayed for hours in his higher mental function area. A million and one suggestions and the dilemmas intertwined to pull the network of strings across his brain. From the sublime to the ridiculous, the suggestions flowed till late into the midnight.
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Tick-tack-tick-tack-GONG! The modern pendulum clock adjacent the electronics stand hit the gavel for 1am. Segun's blankness continued. His eyes fixed glassily on the window blinds while he himself was fixated on the considerations and deliberations gallivanting his neurones. He sat still as a statue on the three-seater, cut off completely from the surroundings. Power Holdings had just restored the electricity. The TV shouted for its volume to be reduced, the security light begged to be switched on in the gross darkness outside and the industrial fan revved to call attention to its control knob, the statue remained unmoved.
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The glassy eyes suddenly thawed and hot tears emerged in showers. The black leather cover of the Bible that had sat quietly on his lap received the loadful on its centre and then redistributed them, in-between its embossed groves, to the spine and edge. The spine drained its portion on his trousers while the water that travelled to the edge soaked the hapless sheet-ends nearby. When the rains subsided, after about thirty minutes or thereabout, Segun suddenly grasped the Bible, rose in a single stroke and flung the sacred book as far from him as possible and shouted: 'God, you are dead!' EPILOGUE
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Segun was at the dining table waiting for the meal. He was beginning to grow rather impatient. Every other thing was set on the table except the food itself. The spoon and the knife lay supinely on the table-mat to his right while their counterpart, the fork, lay low in preparation for action on the left. The sweating bottled water fizzled at the top beside a scrupulously clean glass cup. Even the toothpicks were stacked in their container like Joseph's standing sheaves. But the food was missing.
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After five more minutes the food finally arrived. It was rice and stew garnished with a lot of beef. No sooner was it placed than Segun grabbed the spoon and buried it into the profusely steaming rice. Though the eyes were suggesting the food was very hot his stomach would not want to wait a second longer. In no time a spoonful of the rice landed on his tongue and all hell was let loose. His mouth danced wildly and his tongue recklessly. It was uneasiness all over. Quickly, his lips made an O-vent in-between them to suck in air continuously. The bloated grains knocked about in his buccal cavity for some time before their eventual cooling off to make the onward journey to the gullet. But not without leaving a permanent mark in the cavity – a burnt tongue and a scathed palate.
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As he nursed his wound, the old man, his server, came to the dining room and sat on the chair at the narrow edge of the table, opposite him. He gave him a stern look for a moment and then asked, 'Your wound, whose fault? I that brought the food or you that took the food? Whose fault, Segun? Whose fault? Whose fault...' Segun long closed eyes popped suddenly from the REM and alarm was written all over him in his reclined position on the three-seater. He stealthily arose and got his mind stormed with the dream and its obvious interpretation. Impatience kept jingling his upstairs bells. No doubt he had been impatient in many things. The wind of memory breezed in in a flash bringing to him Kemi's condolence visit the other day with her husband and her six-month-old daughter.
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He had been impatient and maybe AY too. Though he had his own areas of haste at his fingertips, he could not pinpoint AY's. 'Old man, the fault's mine, not yours. It's mine!' The clouds again gathered in his eyes and when fully loaded another round of showers was delivered on his laps. The swelling emotions tugged his legs and straightway he fell on his knees to weep in the bosom of his Lord. He cried passionately for mercy. And how he found peace with God and with life!
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The Amulet (Custodian Novel #1) Smashwords Edition Copyright 2009 by Alison Pensy This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the author. Published by Laxsaro Publishing, Publishing on Smashwords / September 2009 ISBN:978-0-9825438-1-8 I would like to say a big thank you to the following people: First and foremost to my soul mate, your unfailing love and support are beyond measure. Andi and Mary Jo, who listened to my hare-brained ideas for stories, and still read the book. To Marisa Wagner who edited this version for me. Thank you. To all of my beta-readers, your feedback and support was invaluable. Jen, your library of books helped tremendously. And last but not least to Jocelyn, who may just show me her wings one day. CHAPTER ONE
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This is no ordinary fairy-tale, but I shall start it just the same... Once upon a time, eleven years ago to be precise, in a land, oh, just around the corner, lived a young girl called Faedra. Her mother and father doted on her, and at the tender age of just six years old, she considered herself to be the luckiest little girl alive. That was until her world, suddenly and without warning, came crashing down around her... University Hospital, Norwich, England
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Faedra sat in the cushioned hospital chair that was positioned in the hallway just outside the room her mother occupied. She could hear the voices inside the room behind the closed door. One of them she recognized. It was the voice of her father, sounding much more anxious than usual, talking with growing concern to whom she assumed was the doctor. The other voice sounded like it was trying to remain calm, but she could sense bewilderment was bubbling just below the surface. Her father, Henry, had told her to sit for a moment while he talked to the doctor. She was trying hard to block out the voices by concentrating on her feet that were swinging nonchalantly below her, but try as she might, she could still hear every word they said.
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"There must be something you can do?" Henry pleaded. "I'm so terribly sorry, Mr. Bennett, but we have never seen anything like this before," replied the doctor. "Is there a cure?" The doctor's voice rang heavily with disappointment. "I wish I could tell you there was, but we have tried everything we know and her organs are still shutting down." "Well, try something else!" Henry raised his voice in frustration. "I can't lose my wife, I just... can't." His voice cracked. "Henry?" Faedra's mother, Lillith whispered. "I woke you sweetheart, I'm sorry. What do you need?" "Don't be angry with the doctors, Henry. It's not their fault." "But there has to be something more they can do..." he broke off. "Henry," she paused. "I need to see Faedra."
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Faedra's head snapped to attention at the mention of her name and her feet grew still. She wanted to jump off the chair and run to her mother's side that instant, but knew that she should not have been listening to them in the first place. So she waited patiently until she was called. After what seemed like an eternity in Faedra's undeveloped mind, the door clicked open and her father stood in front of her and forced a smile. She looked up at her father and examined his features. The kind brown eyes that she loved so much looked back at her in agony. She could read the pain on his face even though she knew he was trying so very hard to hide it from her. At that moment she realized, with much sadness, that her mother was not going to be with them for very much longer.
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Her father was tall, standing before her and he looked tired, exhausted, in fact. His dark blonde hair looked unkempt, and his usually clean-shaven profile was half covered in a dark fuzzy overgrowth. Henry hadn't thought shaving was important since Lillith had fallen ill. He held out his hand for her. "Mummy is asking for you, Princess." Faedra took hold of her father's offered hand and slid herself down off the chair. His hand felt shaky, something she had not experienced whilst holding her daddy's hand before. It was always so strong, so sure. A sinking feeling grew in Faedra's stomach, and her heart started to quicken. She stuck closely to her father's side as he walked her into her mother's hospital room.
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Lillith lay motionless in the big mechanical bed that was tilted up at the back enabling her to sit up. Faedra glanced at all the different kinds of monitors, wires, and tubes that were hooked up to her mother. She then focused on her mother's face to try and escape the fear those things were instilling in her. As she reached the bed, Lillith held out her hand and Faedra took it as her father simultaneously dropped the hand he was holding. "Faedra, my darling girl," Lillith cooed. "Now you need to be strong for Mummy and Daddy, okay?" "Okay, Mummy," Faedra whispered. "I have something for you," she looked up at her husband. "Henry, could you please pass me that bag?" She pointed to a small gift bag sitting on the table across the room.
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"Now, this is a very special gift and you must promise me that you will treasure it always," she told Faedra as she handed her the bag. Faedra's little hands could not open the box inside the bag quick enough, but after a few moments, she had pulled the wrapper off and lifted the gift from its box with care. Her eyes grew wide with wonder as she stared at her present. It was a figurine, standing about eight inches tall. A beautiful fairy was sitting atop a majestic black horse. The fairy had long, red hair and silver wings flecked with emerald green that stretched proudly out behind her. She was wearing a blue skirt from which tiny bells hung. The horse was black as midnight and regal in stature. It had a long thick mane and tail both adorned with silver stars.
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"Oh, Mummy, she's so pretty. What is her name?" "Her name is Arianne. I know how much you love horses and you know how much I love fairies, so I thought this gift was perfect. It will always remind you of me. You'll keep her safe for me, won't you?" "I promise, Mummy. I will look after her always." Lillith bent forward to kiss her daughter on the forehead. Tears welled up in her eyes. She looked up at her husband and mouthed for him to take Faedra away. At that moment, Henry knew he was losing his wife. He swallowed hard, biting back the tears that were searing behind his eyes as he took hold of his daughter's hand once more. "Mummy needs to sleep now, darling," Lillith whispered, knowing it would be the last time she saw her daughter.
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"Okay, Mummy. I love you." "I love you, too, darling. Forever and ever." Court of the Light Fae, The Land of Azran The Guardian strode with purpose through the magnificent double oak doors that led him into the Great Hall of the king who reigned over the Light Fae in the Land of Azran. The sword that hung from his waist swung with grace from side to side with the momentum of his footsteps. He ran a hand through his sleek blonde hair and looked around. _This hall never ceases to make me feel humble_ , he thought.
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The ceiling towered many stories above him, held up on either side by imposing stone pillars. The pillars were intricately carved with the figures of various royalty and nobility that had ruled this land throughout the ages. Stained glass windows that stretched from half way up the walls to high above depicted many scenes of nature from several different realms, including The World of Men. The reason for those scenes was because the fae controlled nature. In fact, it was their responsibility to make sure that nature in all realms continued to thrive and to sustain the inhabitants within them.
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His eyes were diverted to the floating chandeliers that lit the hall from above. The chandeliers followed the movements of whoever occupied the cavernous room, lighting the way for that person, or persons, wherever they should be within its walls. The candles flickering behind the crystals, created dancing sparkles along the walls and the floor. The Guardian smiled at the fae magic of the light that showered him from above and then brought his focus back to the unpleasant task at hand. He stepped up his pace for the remainder of the way down the long stone floor leading up to the throne where the king was seated.
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The king, usually so stoic in his demeanor, sat fidgeting with his robes as he waited impatiently for the Guardian to reach him. Coming to a halt at the foot of the steps upon which the thrones sat, the Guardian got down on one knee and bowed his head. "Is it true?" the king questioned abruptly. "Yes, Your Majesty," the Guardian replied, rising when the king requested he do so with a gesture of his hand. He watched as the king's eyes filled with sadness. "When?" "Not more than one hour prior, Your Majesty." "And the amulet?" "Lillith passed the amulet to Faedra before she died, Your Majesty." "The child is but six years of age," the king stated with concern. The Guardian could see the king's face tense with worry and attempted to calm him.
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"Sire, she is the next legitimate Custodian. Lillith hid it within the figurine of a fairy." "Did she, indeed?" the king smiled. "I did always admire her resourcefulness." "Yes, Sire." "Do you have any further information regarding why Lillith was on her way to see me when she was intercepted?" The Guardian hung his head. He was assigned as Lillith's guardian, but she had sent him on an errand. The next thing he knew, redcaps had attacked her on her way to the portal, and he had reached her too late. "No, Your Majesty. Nothing new has presented itself thus far." "You know what you must do now." It was more of a statement than a question. The Guardian's eyes shone with confusion as he looked at the king. "But, Your Majesty, I have failed both you and Lillith."
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"Guardian, you are young. This was your first assignment in the World of Men. I paired you with Lillith because she had much to teach you, not the other way around. I have confidence that you have learned from this unfortunate turn of events and will not let it happen again. Make sure you do not fail little Faedra; she has much to learn. It will be a while before we have to cross that bridge. Her mother should have been the one to teach her. That task, young Guardian, now lies in your hands. Do not let me down." "No, Sire. Thank you, Sire." He bowed his head and the king nodded his acknowledgment. The Bennett Cottage, Spixworth, England
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Faedra sat on the swing in the back garden, watching everyone coming and going from her vantage point. Friends and relatives she recognized, and others she didn't. It seemed like an endless stream to her. They were all dressed in similar clothing. Everyone wore black, and they looked like flies buzzing in and out of her home.
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It was the afternoon, and her father was holding a wake for everyone who had attended the funeral earlier that day. She had watched in tears as her mother was buried that very morning at the local village church. Then the procession made its way back to her house, where people had been milling about ever since. Some of them were crying. Others looked saddened. To Faedra, the whole thing seemed like a blur. She couldn't quite understand why her mother wasn't coming back. Her father had told her she'd gone up to heaven to be with the angels, but that didn't make sense to her either. Why would Mummy rather be in heaven with the angels instead of here with the people she loved?
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She watched, almost hypnotically, as a well-meaning relative wandered over to where she was sitting on her swing. It was a warm summer's day and the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky. Birds were taking a bath in the little birdbath her mother had lovingly erected at some point in the past. She stared at the birds for a moment remembering all the times she had sat with her mother and watched as they splashed around in the water. Her mother loved the birds. In fact, her mother loved all of nature and had passed that love down to Faedra. "Hi, Faedra," Uncle Leo announced as he approached the swing.
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She turned her attention to him for a moment. Uncle Leo was her father's brother and her favorite uncle. He didn't look that dissimilar from her father, especially, as they were both wearing a black suit that day, although he was a couple of years younger. He also had kind eyes, a warm hazel-brown, and tousled dark blonde hair. He was not quite as tall as her father, but about the same build. He kneeled down in front of her and took hold of her hands. "Hey, Uncle Leo," she said quietly. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"
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"I'm watching the birds in Mummy's birdbath, see," she pointed towards the birds still splashing water over their backs with their wings. "They love Mummy's birdbath. Mummy and I used to sit and watch the birds for ages." Her voice cracked as the truth was starting to sink in that she would never again sit with her mother to watch the birds. "She's not ever coming back, is she?" "No, darling, I'm afraid she's not." Big fat tears started to escape from Faedra's eyes and rolled down her cheeks to splash on her dress. "Why not? Why does she want to be in heaven with the angels? Doesn't Mummy know we love her more?"
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Leo wrapped his arms around his little niece, using all his self-control to fight the tears that were welling up in his eyes, also. He had loved Lillith like his very own sister and was desperately sad to have lost her, too, but even more so, to see the pain that his brother and niece were now suffering at their loss. "It's not fair, Uncle Leo," Faedra cried. "I want her back." "I know, sweetheart. We all do, but we have to be strong now." Leo held onto his sobbing niece, smoothing her hair with his hand. _I would never have imagined in a million years how hard this moment would be_ , he thought.
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He had no words to take Faedra's pain away. Nothing he could say would comfort the little girl he loved so much, so he just held her for several minutes and let her sob into his shoulder. "Leo," Henry called from the back door, "I need your help in here for a moment." "I'll be there in a minute, Henry," Leo called back. Leo pulled back from Faedra, gently loosening her grip, and looked into the reddened, tear soaked eyes of his little niece. "Your daddy needs me, Faedra, I'll be back in just a minute, okay?" "Okay," she sniffed. "Uncle Leo?" "Yes." "I love you." "I love you too, darling."
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Leo planted a kiss on her forehead and straightened himself up. Faedra watched as he turned and headed towards the house before she returned her attention to the birdbath once again. A moment passed, and the birdbath became blurry behind the tears that began to well up in her eyes and roll down her cheeks. She wasn't sure at this point if she would ever be able to stop them. Something cold and wet touching her hand distracted her. It made her jump and she pulled her hand away sharply. She wiped the tears from her eyes with the heel of her hands so she could see with more clarity what she had just felt.
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When Faedra looked down, two molten amber eyes greeted her. This time their owner was not human. In fact, they belonged to a big white dog that was sitting in front of her. She looked around perplexed to see if she could see to whom the dog belonged. There was no one around, other than the people in the house, and she doubted that any of them would have brought a dog to a funeral.
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Her home was a very old English country cottage located in the heart of Norfolk. You had to drive down a tiny country lane and then onto an even narrower long, dirt driveway to get to it. It wasn't the type of place you went without a purpose. Fields on three sides and a thick stand of trees at the back with a little stream meandering its way through it, surrounded the cottage. No wonder her mother loved it here. You couldn't be much closer to nature if you tried. Maybe the dog had come from the woods at the back, she was certain she hadn't seen him coming from any other direction, not that she had been paying that much attention. "Hey, boy," she said, stroking the dog on the top of its head. "Where did you come from?"
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The dog whimpered and laid his head on her knee, not once taking his eyes from hers. She was overcome by an overwhelming sense of comfort as she stared into its soft amber eyes. It was almost as if he could sense that she was in pain and wanted very much to take that pain away from her. Even as the thought entered her mind, the dog sat upright again and licked the tears from her face. She responded by throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his soft white fur. She wasn't quite sure how long she'd been hugging the dog until she heard a familiar voice. "Faedra?" She reluctantly pulled away from the dog and looked up into the worried eyes of her father. "Yes, Daddy?"
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Her father ran his hand through his hair and looked at his daughter. He was overwhelmed by how she looked like a miniature version of her mother. Every time he looked at her, he could see Lillith. The same beautiful, bright blue eyes with dark lashes that went on forever, and thick curly red hair that tumbled half way down her back. He felt blessed to have the two most beautiful women in his life. He missed Faedra's mother with an ache so fierce he thought his heart would shrivel up and die. But was thankful he still had his beautiful daughter and vowed to do his very best to keep her safe. "Where did he come from?" he asked, looking at the great white dog standing next to his daughter in a way Henry could swear was protective.
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"I don't know, Daddy. He just turned up. Isn't he beautiful?" "Yes, he certainly is. He looks like a Great White Pyrenees." Henry checked his thoughts. Usually he would have been very unnerved seeing a dog the same size as his daughter in such a close proximity to her, but, like Faedra, all he felt was a sense of comfort. "Can I keep him, Daddy?" Henry's eyebrows shot up. He wasn't expecting that question. "Well..." he paused. "Please, Daddy."
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Henry knew the moment he looked into his daughter's pleading eyes that he was defeated. He also knew the dog could not replace her mother, but, if this dog could give her just one ounce of comfort, then it would be a welcome addition to their family. Right at that moment, gazing deep into his little girl's eyes that were so full of pain, he would have given her anything to ease it. "Okay, you can keep him." "Oh, thank you, Daddy! Do you hear that boy? You can stay with me!" Henry watched the dog wag its tail as Faedra threw her arms around him and, again, bury her face in his fur. "What are you going to call him?" Henry asked.
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"Faen," she declared without missing a beat. The dog's ear pricked up. He pulled away to look at her, and Faedra thought she saw the dog smile, if it were possible for dogs to smile. She didn't know, but she didn't linger on the thought, and wrapped her arms around the giant dog's neck once more. "That's an unusual name." "I know, but it suits him, doesn't it?" she said looking proud of herself. "Whatever you say, darling. But if you keep him, then you are responsible for taking him for walks and cleaning up after him." "I will, Daddy. I promise." She released Faen from her grip. "Come on, Faen, I'll show you my room. That's where you're going to sleep from now on."
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Henry watched as Faedra lowered herself off the swing and wandered towards the house, followed closely by Faen wagging his enormous shaggy tail. Henry scratched his head at the sight. Present Day Faedra pulled down the indicator lever on the steering wheel to signal she was turning left. The soft tick-tick noise it made instilled a sense of relief in her as she turned onto the driveway that led to the cottage. She was home, and tomorrow was Saturday. She only made it half way down the driveway before her shaggy white dog came bounding up towards the car to greet her.
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She stopped her car and she smiled at him, rolling her window down as he placed his giant front paws on the car door and leaned his head in to plant a lolloping wet kiss on her cheek. She laughed as she grabbed a thick handful of fur on either side of his head and leaned her cheek against the side of his face. This had become their daily ritual since Faedra had started driving and gotten herself a job. She'd taken a year off before she started college so she could get a job and save some money. College didn't come cheap these days. Her father had offered to pay, but she didn't want him to shoulder all of the cost on his own. "Hey, boy. Yes, I love you, too," she responded to another sloppy kiss. She leaned over to the back door and pushed it open from the inside.