As I got dressed, I heard a knock on the door.  Not long after she’d finished doing… whatever it was she did to me… Anyanna was back.  She’d changed into a long black dress that hung loose over her body and came down to her ankles, simple wooden sandals, and over her shoulders she wore a gray shawl of knitted wool.  I also noticed her hair fell smoother than it had before and hinted of lavender oil reminiscent of Sarina.

Her dark green eyes studied me as I tied my boots, never once meeting mine.

Then she led me down the hall towards the back of the church and took a left turn to the far side of the building where dinner had been laid out.

In a room barely enough size for the rough-hewn wooden table, Father Gerson sat at the center adjacent to the two boys from earlier.  On the opposite corner was a young girl with a rather odd look to her.  Her head was too small for her body, her face was unusually flat and round, and her eyes were set narrow.  She might not have been more than six, but by her look she might have been stunted.

Anyanna bid me sit, then took the seat directly to my left.

Six spun-wooden plates were set out along with a spoon and a rough ceramic cup for each.  The center of the table hosted a large ceramic pot with a wooden lid that leaked out steam and carried the strong scent of cooked garlic, along with a glass pitcher that was home to something orange that had a layer of foam at the top of it.

The friar had a large, wooden mug as well.

There was a large, dark-wooden carving board atop which set a loaf of bread along with a small ramekin of oil, and at the very center of the table stood a thin, clay vase dented by the fingers that had crafted it and painted in bright reds and yellows, and this was home to a single, long stem of a small yellow flower that tilted its head to one side and was missing a few petals.

“Let us bow our heads,” Father Gerson spoke in Herali, rolling his Rs and holding his vowels longer than usual, “Father, we thank you for bringing Caleb to us today.  His help fixing up your house has been a blessing beyond anything we could have asked for.  We hope this simple meal should restore his strength, and we ask that you keep him safe on his journey.  We thank you for helping Trunlia to find this beautiful flower for the table...”

I peeked.  The little girl to my right beamed with joy.

“... We ask that you guide Roederek to find the strength and courage to deal with the boys in the neighborhood so that he may find respect worthy of the great man I know he will become.  We ask that you help Walren to find the words to speak to you through his heart.  I know that you hear him even as he does not speak.  And we ask that you help Anyanna find her answers so that she will know peace within her heart.  You have crafted her into a remarkable and courageous young woman, and we ask that you continue to guide her as you have done so far.  We thank you that you have graced us with provision for this meal, and humbly ask that you show us how you plan to provide for us in the coming winter.  Forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us.  Lead us not into temptation.  All honor and glory be in your name, Amen.”

We all repeated the Amen, and the friar opened the wooden lid to the pot.  I leaned in and saw a glistening brown surface dotted with chunks while little Walren tore off a chunk of the bread and passed it to Trunlia.

“Pass me your plate, Caleb.”  Father reached in with a large spoon and dug up a healthy, semi-solid mass of brown stew with bits of semi-congealed sauce along with chunks of potatoes, carrots, bright green peas, and scraps of meat.

It wanted salt, and there was a hint of something sweet laced throughout along with a chorus of herbs led by lavender, whose large sprigs stuck out on my plate.  Anyanna began to pour some of the drink into my cup when Father stood.

“Please excuse my manners!” he said.  “Caleb, would you like some ale?”

Not after what happened in the bath.  “I’m good, thank you.”

“You sure?”

“I still have to make it back to the Falcon Plaza this evening; there’s someone I need to check in on.”

“Hmm,” he grunted and sat back down.  “That’s far.”

Anyanna spoke up after tearing off a chunk of bread for her own plate.  “Who do you have to check in on?”

I looked at her, but she still didn’t meet my eyes with her own.  “A friend took a fall and got hurt real bad.  I just want to make sure she’s OK.”

“She?”

I nodded.  “Yeah.”

“Oh.”

“She’s the reason I came here to pray.  I don’t think she’s going to make it.”

Everyone looked at me but it was Trunlia, the little girl to my right who spoke, with an unusual slur to her words, as though she didn’t engage her tongue to form them.  “What happened?”

“Well, her injury has taken the foul.  I put maggots in the wound and gave her something to help, but she’s already very, very far gone.  I did what I could for her, but at this point it’s going to take a miracle.”

Father Gerson answered me, “you should give her gebuwi.”

I noticed from the periphery of my eye that as I faced Father Gerson, Anyanna was looking at me directly.  But when I turned to her, she was looking at her food.  It took a minute for me to make the connection between the word he spoke and the name the apothecary had given me for the miracle herb.  “Gebu-E?”

The friar smiled and chuckled lightly to himself.  “You’ve heard of it.”

“I did give her some.  What do you know about it?”

He took in a deep breath and looked around the table while running his hand over the smooth dome of his head.  Little Walren was busy stuffing his face with masses of food, Roederek stared at me directly without taking a bite, and little Trunlia would glance up at me only to look down at her food and smile whenever I turned to her.  Anyanna didn’t look at me at all.  Rather, she took a sip from her cup while her eyes studied the scrap of bread on her plate.

Father Gerson answered me.  “Well, they say it cures everything.  I don’t know about that, but…” he shook his head.

“What is it?”

“... it cures the lover’s pox.”

I was confused.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Hmm,” he took a bite from his stew.  “The lover’s pox is God’s righteous judgment against adulterers.  It’s a natural consequence.  Take that away and people turn into wild animals.  I don’t want to get into too much detail with the children present; I think you can use your imagination.”

“I don’t know about all that,” I said.  “They were probably already unhinged, else there wouldn’t be a lover’s pox to cure.  If anything, a cure would be a mercy—an opportunity at a second chance.”

“Actions have consequences, Caleb.  There need be consequences.  What’s happening in Ulum is…” he shook his head and closed his eyes.  “You talk of mercy; these people brought wrath upon themselves, rightfully deserved.  What good can come of taking that consequence away?”

“Grace.”

“What grace?”

“Well, uh… OK.  So there’s a girl in Gath, her name is Teryn.  Last spring, she was upset over her lessons and ran off.  Two days we were all looking for her.  I finally found her hiding under a bridge about a mile outside the village.  Poor thing was cold, tired, and hungry, and terrified that she didn’t know how to get out of where she’d hidden herself.  On top of that, she was terrified of what was going to happen to her once we got home.  I could have said to her, actions have consequences, that she’d got herself into that situation and that’s God’s righteous judgment that she should suffer, but that’s not grace, is it?”

“That’s different.”  Father Gerson took a good drag from his cup and set it down with a smooth grin across his face.  The stench of alcohol came pronounced off him as he spoke.  “You’re talking about a child.”

“Are we not all God's children?  He gives us grace and asks that we show grace to one another.  Else what’s the point of praying, forgive us our sins as we forgive those who have sinned against us?  It’s not my responsibility to judge, or to cheer on when the wicked call down wrath upon themselves.  My responsibility, at least as far as I read in Scripture, is to give love to all, freely, without finding fault, to extend His grace and to show mercy knowing that I have received it in kind.”

“What happened to her?” Anyanna’s voice cut through.

When I turned to her, she looked about my face, still without meeting my eyes.  “You mean like a punishment?”

She nodded.

“I convinced Father Yewan that she didn’t need a punishment, that she’d suffered enough already.  And, you know what?  She never ran off like that again.”

“What if that doesn’t work?” little Roederek asserted his question, moving his food about his plate with his spoon.  “What if you go easy on ‘em and they keep on doing bad things to you?”

“You know what?” I said, “I don’t know!  I do understand what you mean, though—I went through a bit of that myself.  Scripture says that if someone strikes you on one cheek, you turn to them the other cheek, that if your brother sins against you a hundred times, you forgive them a hundred times, but how can you live when someone just won’t let you have a little peace?  Like they’re just bent on hurting you for no reason?  I remember when I was about your age, there was this kid, Davod, who used to push me around, and I hated him.  He was my height, and I’ve always been tall, but he was much bigger.  His dad was a smith, so he had these arms like you wouldn’t believe, and I was afraid of him.

“He would say nasty things out of nowhere.  Geraln, he was this other kid, his dad was explaining to all of us how cooking diamond-tree stones worked, he was explaining how sometimes when we see something working, the temptation is to just put more of it on.  He called it the moron principle.  Davod shouts out, ‘that’s what Caleb uses.’  Then, I’d be walking by minding my own business and he just pegs me with a clod of dirt.  It just felt like everything came out of nowhere.

“My heart used to shoot off like crazy whenever I was about to see him, because I knew he was going to have something nasty going on.  Then, one day, I punched him in the face.  I reeled back so hard, and I got him right in the nose.  In my mind I’d had it all ready to go; he was supposed to fall down, cry, I dunno, back off.  Nope.  He launched himself right at me, and we messed each other up real bad.

“First I spoke to Father Yewan.  He was mad.  All this stuff he’d taught me about blessed are the peacemakers, walk away, and I go and do that.”

I turned to face little Walren directly and continued.  “I was grounded!  For two weeks he forbade me to leave the church.  Then I spoke to Mother Searnie, and you know what she said to me?”

He shook his head.  Trunlia’s eyes were glued to me, as were Roedrek’s.  Anyanna’s eyes seemed transfixed on Roederek’s shirt, and Father Gerson took a sip from his mug.

“First, she said that there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun.  A time to cheer, a time to weep, a time to kill, a time to heal, a time to give, and a time to steal.  To everything a time, and to everything a purpose.  Then, she said let Scripture be my map, and prayer be my guide.  That is how I will discern whether it’s a time to turn the other cheek, or punch him in the face.”

The children were silent.  Father Gerson let out a “hmm” and set down his mug.  I thought he was going to say something, but if so he took his sweet time.

“You want to know what happened next?”

“Yes,” Trunlia answered me.  Roederek gazed at me without a word.

“Davod changed.  Overnight.  The next time I saw him, he showed me around his home and asked me what it was like growing up in the church.  We played together, explored the mountains together.  There was this girl, Runya, who used to do all sorts of mean things to him—she put poison ivy in his shoes once.  I made him sit down with her, and the three of us figured out that the reason she did all that was because she was afraid everyone would know she had a crush on him.  Next thing you know they’re together.”

Roederek nodded and smiled a little, then took a bite from his plate.  I felt Anyanna’s leg relax into mine beneath the table, and little Walren lifted himself up to put his mouth to the Friar’s ear.

I sifted through the attempted halvystra—it’s supposed to be solid—and found a piece of salted meat.  Make that very salted meat.

The friar spoke to me.  “Walren would like to know how long you plan on staying with us?”

I laughed.  “I wasn’t planning on staying for dinner!  I have to get back and look in on someone.”

“That girl?” Anyanna asked.

“Yes.”

“Is she the one who put poison ivy in your friend’s shoes?”

“No!” I laughed.  “She’s Saeni, her name is Dune.  I actually only met her this morning.”

Little Trunlia spoke up at the mention.  “We prayed for her!”

“She broke her right arm?” the friar asked with one eyebrow raised high.  “She’s traveling with two friends?”

“Yeah,” I said.  “They told me they brought her here, that you couldn’t do anything for her?”

The friar took another drag from his mug and set it down.  “I told her that her arm had taken the foul, and that the only way to save her life was to cut it off.  She refused, and they left.”

I nodded.  “That’s her.”

Anyanna asked, “why are you taking care of her if you only just met her?”

“Because she needed it.  That’s what Scripture says to do, isn’t it?  You see someone who needs help, you do what you can to help them.”

The friar narrowed his eyes and asked, “Caleb, why did you come to Ulum?”

“I’m just passing through.  I was called to arms; I have to go fight a war in some place called Carthia.”

The friar wrapped his fingers over his plump chin and took a deep breath while looking off in the distance.

“Have you heard of the place?”

He brought his eyes back to me.  “It’s a very, very dangerous place.”

I tried to smile that off.  “Wars do tend to make places dangerous.”

“That was before the war.”

“Why?  Why is it dangerous?  How is it so bad?  No one will tell me anything!”

He took a deep breath and stared at the ceiling.  Then after a moment, he came back and spoke.  “I haven’t been there.  I’ve heard tales, things I’d assumed God had cleansed the world of long ago.  For ten years now men have come through here to feed that war.  Few, very few return—I can name only one of them.  I spoke to him.  I asked him what he saw.”

“What did he say?”

“Nothing.  He shook his head and left.  But there are merchants who go there.  Salt traders going over the mountain have come back with more money than they could make in a year.  Tell me something, Caleb,” he let out a low burp and set his cup down.  “Do you read Scripture much?”

“Daily.”

“What’s your favorite verse?”

“I wouldn’t say verse so much as a passage.  Do you know The Called Man?”

“Teach me,” he said, leaning back in his chair and clasping his hands over his rotund belly.  “Pretend I’ve never heard of it.”

I looked around the table.  Trunlia gazed at me directly, as did the boys, Walren and Roederek.  Anyanna tilted her head and looked at my face, still refusing to meet my eyes with her own.

“OK… so in the Book of Maijzu, there was a man named Syrus.  The Kulun had been conquered and ruled by the Daijji, who were oppressive and mean…” I turned to Walren and put emphasis on my words.

Trunlia spoke to me.  “What did they do?”

“Well, for starters, they would track mud all throughout the house and blame it on the children!”

I checked the three of them, each in turn to make sure they believed me before I continued.  “Then they forbade them minicakes; if you ate one, that would be ten lashes.  Then, they took away their lessons and made them do double chores!”

The friar let out a light chuckle and smiled, “that’s one’s probably true!”

“No,” I said, “triple chores.  Made them work, all day and all night.  All sorts of mean things they did.  So this Syrus guy is there, and an angel from God appeared saying, Syrus, you’ve been chosen to lead a rebellion against the evil Daijji and liberate the Kulun from oppression.”

Trunlia looked up at me, “and give the children back their minicakes?”

“Yes.  I believe the angel specifically said to give the children back their minicakes.  Maybe.  It might say that, I’d have to check… or perhaps you could read it and find out for yourself.”

Anyanna then spoke up.  “I would think it’s implied… that the children would get their minicakes back.”

I tried smiling at her, but she would not look at my eyes.  “Something like that, maybe.  So anyway, this Syrus looks up and says, I hear you Lord, but I need proof that it’s you who's chosen me.  And I just love that.”

“Why?” Roederek asked.

“Because I hear stuff all the time—don’t question the Lord, don’t challenge His authority.  When God says to do this, you don’t hesitate, you don’t ask questions, that sort of thing.  And that's wrong.  This verse, this passage, tells me that it’s OK to ask for proof.  It’s OK to not understand, to get confirmation.  If something is true, then it should hold up to scrutiny.  If something or someone is afraid of being held up to scrutiny, then that’s almost proof it’s a lie.  If I say to God, show me your presence and he doesn’t, then we start to disbelieve in Him.  That’s not a sin; that’s human nature.  But if I pray and ask God, show me you, I need proof that you’re here with me, I need to see you, I need to feel your presence in my life, it is absolutely OK to do that.”

The friar nodded.  The children seemed happy with that response as well, but then Anyanna had another question.  “Why does God allow suffering in the world?”

The friar nodded and took another sip from his mug, then looked at me with an expectant smile.

“Well,” I actually had a practiced response to that.  “It’s because suffering invokes challenge, and to overcome is the nature of beauty.”

“Is that from Falcon?” Father Gerson asked. 

I shrugged.  “Truth is true, does it matter who says it?  Besides, I believe the same sentiment is borne out through Scripture.”

“How?  Where?”

“Well, there's the man who was born blind so that the power of God's grace can be shown through his life.  But it's all of it, really.  We are not meant to sit idle; we are given this life and charged with a purpose. It is through the fulfillment of that purpose where we find meaning. That's something I see echoed throughout scripture, but honestly, it's difficult to pin it down to one verse.”

By the time everyone had finished eating, the dusk outside was fading into darkness.  Father Gerson turned to the children, “Walren, Roederek, Trunlia, would you mind clearing the table, please?  Anyanna, would you mind making up a room for Caleb?”

“I can’t stay,” I stood.

He glanced at the window and turned to me.  “You won’t make it to Falcon Plaza at this hour, the neighborhoods you’d have to walk through, no.  You’ll have to check on Dune in the morning.  Please sit down.”

I held my breath and tried to find a thought to answer that with.

“Caleb, with those riots two days ago, someone who… looks… like you, I don’t think you should go out there at this hour.  Please sit down.”

That broke my heart.  Just the thought of it made me feel like I’d betrayed Dune, but I had to trust his judgment.  I sat.

“Please,” he said.  “Have a beer with me.”

I wanted to.  I really wanted to, but remembering what Anyanna had done to me in the bath, not knowing what else she may or may not have had in mind considering I was to stay the night, so much as one drop of alcohol was probably too much.  “I really can’t, I’m sorry.”

He smiled and leaned in close.  “Anyanna seems awfully fond of you.  She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

I hesitated to speak on that, afraid of where those words might lead.

“I’ve never seen her open up like that.  Not with anyone.”

“That was her opening up?”

He laughed.  “Guests come and go; many stay for days without speaking to her once.  Some don’t even notice she’s here.  I have never seen her like that, not with anyone.”

“I see.”

“It’s Trunlia who breaks my heart the most, though.”

I hesitated to ask, “why is she… why does she look like that?”

“Some children are born like that.  I’ve seen it before, and they never survive to adulthood.  I know it’s coming for her, too.  It may come tomorrow, it may come next year—it usually comes when her body begins to change.  She will grow weaker and weaker, until after some months, she will die.  And I have to watch it, knowing what’s about to happen.”

He wiped a tear away from his cheek and continued.  “That… geboo-ee.  It’s not just the lover’s pox; I’ve seen it bring people back from the brink, people with nothing left in them but to wait for death to call their names.  They’re given the geboo-ee, and… I couldn’t believe it.  I saw it with my own eyes.  I gave some to Trunlia, hoping it might save her from what was to come.  All it did was make her sick.”

He waited and watched as the children finished gathering up all the plates and bowls.  Little Trunlia reached for my cup, but I was still sipping at it, so she smiled and bowed her head low.  Then, after they’d all gone off I sat with Father Gerson alone at the table when he finally spoke.  “I’m going to write the Archbishop in Golago to have your military summons canceled.”

“What?”

“You need to take up the cloth.”

“I…” I shook my head in disbelief.  “You’ve got to be joking.”

“You have a gift.”

“No no, no.  I don’t.  Me?  A priest?”

“Yes, Caleb.  You have the gift.  You can transform this church, right here in Ulum.”

I laughed.  “You clearly don’t know me very well!  Trust me, I don’t have what it takes…”

“You do.”

“Listen,” I said.  “You don’t know the real me.  I’ve done some really bad things.  All throughout growing up…”

“So?”

“What would I even do?  Deliver a sermon on punching people in the face?”

“All have sinned,” he smiled at me.  “What makes you less worthy than anyone else?  You say you’ve done bad things, we all have.  It’s not about that.  It’s about the difference you make in people’s lives.  Look around you.  Why is Walren asking me how long you plan on staying?  Think about it!  You could open up these doors and get out in the community.  Caleb, these people need help.  You could make this place into your vision.”

“I…” I stumbled over my words.  “I have to go to Carthia.”

“I told you I'd take care of that.”

“But how is that fair?  My friends have to risk their lives for the good of the Empire but I get a free pass?  I can’t do that.  No.”

“We all are called to our own purpose, Caleb.  Some are called to one, and some are called to another.  What if God allowed your summons in order to bring you here and show you this place?”

“I can’t do it.  You said that I would make this place into my vision, that vision does not include abandoning the people I care about, not when they're being sent off to die.  I can not do that.”

“I believe God is calling you, Caleb.”

“I don’t know about that.”

He stretched out his fingers and let out a yawn before taking another sip from his mug.  “You said that Dune needed a miracle.”

“Yes?”

“What if the geboo-ee works on her?  Would that be miracle enough?”

I considered it for a moment.  Ulum wasn’t so far from Gath that I couldn’t write Father Yewan for advice or go back to visit, or perhaps ask Sarina to come join me and we would work on this place together.  

What if Sarina came to Ulum with me?  “That would be a miracle.”

He smiled and reached out his hands for me to take.  Then, we closed our eyes and bowed our heads as he spoke.  “Father in heaven, I have your servant Caleb here.  I believe you have called him, and that you have chosen this church for him as a place to bloom.  We need proof that you have spoken this, and so we ask that you reach out your merciful hand, to heal Dune of her injury and restore her health.  If instead you allow Dune to perish, we will know that you release your servant Caleb to go as he wills.  For thine is the blah blah blah, all that stuff, Amen.”

“Amen.”