Later that day I was tending the fire in the
kitchen hearth. Uncle Stephen came back in from his deck. His lips were almost
blue from the cold but whatever he’d been speaking to his friend about had been
clearly more important than his comfort.
“Kieran, I’ve spoken to Jean. He told me what
happened, with Sawchuk.”
“You aren’t mad, are you?”
“No, I understand.”
“Well good, because I didn’t mean to attract
his attention, it’s just…”
“He suspects me. And not entirely without
reason; surely you have suspected.”
I gave my uncle a skeptical look.
“You know the stories about the fall of
Quebec and the freedom fighters who opposed MacMillan’s father.”
“The Black Trillium,” I said.
“And I’m sure you have heard that some of
them survived. Well…” He paused and he looked at me steadily. “Jean and I both
fight for the Black Trillium. We have since we were young. In Jean’s case he
was at the fall of Quebec.”
The fall of Quebec. It was one of those
moments of infamy you heard about in hushed rumour, almost legend already, though
not yet in the distant past. That Mr. Chamblais might have actually been there
was shocking. I sat still for a moment, trying to control my surprise and awe
before I spoke.
“And now something has happened.”
“In Broken Tower. The lordling there killed a
Confederation minister as an offering to us, seeking allegiance. We turned him
down. We weren’t ready to free Trana and he’s forced our hand. Things are going
to be very hard in the next year. War is coming to Trana. So you have a choice
to make.”
“A choice…” I could hardly believe what he
was telling me. It made sense. My uncle’s strange friends, his opposition to
Confederation, Sawchuk’s suspicions, all these things fit the pattern of a
rebel in hiding.
“Yes, you can fight with us. If you do you
will have to do… terrible things. War is always terrible. But you can. Or Jean
can bring you to safety somewhere nearby.”
“What about you?”
“I have to stay here. It’s my home. I’ll
fight to defend it.”
“So will I,” I said.
“Be careful Kieran, I never wanted to draw
you into a war.”
“No. But if I start running now, when will I
stop?”
“If you are sure,” he said.
And I was.
“Yes,” I said, and I looked up at uncle
Stephen burning with fierce pride.
“So why were you fighting with Argus
Sawchuk?”
“I was talking with Teddy Li about the
situation, you know, down in Broken Tower and he came around, accused me of
treason.”
“The situation is fragile, we must be careful
not to alert the wrong people clashing with lumps like Sawchuk.”
The stranger slipped into the room then and
said, “The situation is beyond fragile. It is devolving and there will be war
soon.”
Uncle Stephen seemed to deflate a little, his
shoulders sagging. He took a deep breath. “I know that, Jean. But I’d prefer it
didn’t start on my doorstep.”
“The truth is that we must deal with
Sawchuk.”
I had a fantasy of drumming the bully out of
Kensington, tarring him and feathering him, anything to see him gone.
“Let’s go now!”
“You’ll stay put today.” Uncle Stephen
sounded firm.
“But…”
“No, your uncle is right. Sawchuk won’t
readily forget you were the reason he was beaten today. He’ll be on the lookout
for you as soon as he recovers and the chances are good he won’t be alone. You
stay put, for today. Tomorrow we will see to your education.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I understand.” I thought
calling him sir would be appropriately respectful, but he just chuckled at me.
“Mr. Chamblais will suffice,” he said.
“If you don’t mind me asking, Mr. Chamblais,
what do you mean you’ll see to my education? I already know my numbers and
letters.”
“There is much a rebel must know beyond
reading and writing. I don’t suppose you know how to handle a sword.”
I’d never thought of it that way. I’d played
at swords with my friends when I was a kid but Kensington was a peaceful place.
I hadn’t ever learned to fight.
“But first you must be initiated.”
“Initiated,” I said. “Some sort of ceremony?”
“Something like that.”
The rest of the day passed slowly. I stayed
inside while uncle Stephen and Mr. Chamblais “dealt with the Sawchuk problem”
and the weather was miserable in any case. I felt almost resentful, like I
wasn’t getting to join a romantic brotherhood of freedom fighters, but was
instead being made a prisoner in my own home by a strange raggedy man.
I went to sleep reluctantly, my head buzzing
with thoughts of heroism and rebellion, excited and terrified about what lay
before me.
