Fire of Refignment-Into the Flames 10-11

        1:10

          Prison

        They were there, just as we'd asked.  A crowd of about 350 people stood quietly watching outside the prison, and so were armed officials. 
The Prime Minister, I think, had not been thrilled with the interview last night and was very nervous. 
        At the moment, the guards just appeared to be there for security. 
While it was not illegal to gather in peaceful assembly, as long as there was no unregulated spokesman, it was generally discouraged by the Union: they were always afraid of an uprising. 
        The Advocate knew that the Prime Minister would not be pleased and would want to stop us, but he also knew that if the people gathered and were expecting us, he could not arrest us before we reached the prison. We could not be arrested in public or even reprimanded. He could not even force the crowds to go away without the risk of upsetting them. This is why the Advocate desired their presence.  With the use of my story, we received the response we needed; they were there, just as we had hoped.
          As our craft stopped in front, some began to draw near, but the Advocate had wisely directed his associates to instruct the crowd to give us 50 meters of distance. 
With his associates surrounding us, they led the way as before in formation with me in front and the Advocate behind, while the five others helped to keep the crowd back. 
We went down the stairs to the first dimly lit level: the basement, and talked to the warden to find out where Jaymith was. 
          The warden explained his location, two stories down, in the third level. 
          Then we went down the darkened stairwell into the next even darker level.

          "Kalisha! Hashkahnah!" Jaymith cried as he shuffled quickly to the bars. He took my face in his hands, and tried to hug me. 
          I tried to hug him back, but he suddenly withdrew. 
          Instead, he took my hands in his, kissed them, and held them to his chin as he stood stooped forward.
        Now I was worried. "Jaymith, your hands are hot!" And he was shaking.  (Cerai'i body temperature is always cool and clammy to the touch as it was made for the desert condition of Kershon.)  He had a fever. 
        He looked up at me sheepishly, knowing my concern, and I saw over his shoulder the blood, dried and matted through his clothes. 
        Tears filled my eyes as I realized he had indeed, received the Mercy Whips and his fever was due to infection.  I worked to stay strong.  "Jaymith, we're going to get you out of here."
        For the first time he saw the Advocate standing by.  He took hold of one of the bars while still holding my hand in the other and looked up at him.  "Kalisha, who is this great one with you?"
        "This is the Great Advocate, Jaymith."  I turned towards him.  "He has come all the way from Zador to help us."
        "Great Advocate," Jaymith dropped his eyes and bowed his head in reverence.  "I am most grateful."
        The Advocate stepped forward.  "The Master, Yashhan, is not partial.  I am no greater than you."
        I marveled at his humility. 
        I managed to hold on until we left the prison.

        As we stepped out into the bright daylight, two things happened at once.  The crowds surged toward us as if in expectation asking questions, and I broke down. 
        It hit me: my dream, it was true!  This elder Cerai'i had undergone the mercy whips, and I couldn't stop them.  I wished I'd been there, I wished I could have intervened though I knew, there was nothing I could have done. 
        Tears blinded me. I couldn't see.
        The crowds were starting to press us from the sides. 
        The associates were struggling to restrain them along with the Prime Minister's guards. 
        I stumbled, hitting my knees hard on the paved ground. 
      The Advocate took my arm helping me up and as I stood, not thinking clearly, I tried to take his hand, as I would have done with Jaymith; but in that instant a great pain shocked my heart so that I instinctively withdrew, even as he subtly shook his hand from mine. 
        Gently he pushed me ahead of him through the crowd as his associates parted the way before us.

        In the hovercraft, I pulled up my pant leg to examine the damage. It was ugly, but the scars on my shins from my careless run before looked worse.  I dropped my pant leg. I ought not to show weakness.
        "You should put something on that," the Advocate's voice spoke.
        I looked up and blushed, embarrassed that he had seen it, but he walked over to the succulent by the window and broke off a leaf. 
        "Here," he squeezed it's juice into my open palms. "It will help it heal."
        I rubbed it over my scrapes.
        "It is good to stay well for the task," he said sitting again and looking out the side window.
        I absorbed the thought, opposed to all I'd been taught, but it made sense.  I must not have any infection slowing us down. 
        The stuff already numbed the pain.  I had just thought he liked plants.  Now, I understood.  I remembered the assassination attempts on him.  His experiences must have taught him the virtue of keeping the healing plant in his hovercraft for just such an emergency.
        As I watched him now still looking out the window, I couldn't help wondering about the pain I felt when I tried to take his hand.  Why did I feel that?  Was it possible that it came from him?  Or was it some fluke thing?  Was it possible for pain to transfer like that?  Was it possible to live with that kind of pain?  Yet I did not feel that when I met him and he shook my hands.  It did seem to me though, that he looked strained and tired.

        He was in great pain. He had known this would come up, but the intensity was more than he had estimated, and his strength was wearing thin.  Doubts arose. He was old and he felt very weak, even his breath felt frail and the pain compressing his heart- he wondered if it could withstand this strain. Would his heart give out on him? In his spirit, he sought strength from Yashhan, that he may at least finish this task before he died. He brought his hand up and rubbed his face briskly.

        I looked away aware that I had been staring at him.

        As we neared the checkpoint-gate to the Government Guest Mansion, one of the associates said something in Yeshmaht and the Advocate sat forward. 
        I looked ahead and saw many armed guards standing around. 
        The associates spoke again in Yeshmaht, back and forth. 
        The Advocate spoke gently and sat back again.  "Do not fear Ms. Carter, be calm.  Do whatever they say."
        My heart was beating quickly.  What was going on?  I tried to calm myself.  When we approached, they had us all get out, and lined us up.  "Advocate Karanasht," the head spoke reluctantly, "we have orders, to arrest you and your party." I was frozen with fear.  Was this really happening?  I could hardly believe it. 
        Morshaht looked at the Advocate, but he answered his apparent thought. 
        "Be still, Morshaht."  He spoke in common tongue so that all knew, as he saw the look in his eyes. Then he addressed the officers, "I, and my client go willingly, but these others are under my word. I have instructed them not to intervene. Will you let them go?"
        The head officer tipped his head to the, and leaning on one foot, he paused.  Then he nodded to his officers.  Then separated the team and had them stand to the side, but their movements lacked the usual enthusiasm of typical Union Officers while handling suspects.
        "May I give a parting gift to my head associate, before we part? asked the Advocate. It is in the craft."
        Now the officer stopped short and stared at him with a hard gaze, but then broke it off and nodded to one of his men to retrieve the item.
        "It is a book in the brown case near the first seat on the right."
          The guard found it without difficulty, and came back carrying it carefully and looking at it in question.  He handed it to the Advocate.
        My heart moved in me, as I recognized the book. It was the book that I had lent to the Advocate.  I remembered how ashamed I was that I had not read much of it, but it was so important to him.
        He looked at me, for my approval and I nodded, though my heart felt a strain.  What chance did I have of ever seeing it again, if we were being arrested and our things likely confiscated.  For the first time, I really wanted to read it, but now it was being taken.  What did it say? I remembered faintly.  How I wished I had read it more often! 
        Turning to Morshaht he spoke looking him directly in the eyes, which is something that I noticed the Yeshmaht rarely did, even among each other. 
        "Morshaht, you must take this back with you to the people.  They need to see it."
        "Sir, are you abandoning everything?"
        "Morshaht, I give you this task, if I do not return.  I do not know what will come."
        "Yes, sir," Morshaht replied holding it with great care as if it were his last commission, and shaking it in positive affirmation that he would. He held the book to his heart and then tucked it in his shirt, as the Advocate placed his right hand over his own heart.  Then they clasped their right hands and firmly grasped each other's shoulders with their left.  I saw water in their eyes as they made their final goodbye. 
        I had thought that the Yeshmaht were distant like Kershonian humans and did not carry emotion or express it.  I realized now that I assumed this based on my experience with the Cerai'i culture of open emotional expression and affection.  Now I saw that friendship and love could still be deeply felt and expressed without open affection. I realized that even the Yeshmaht held deep emotion, under great control.  Why is it that we Kershonian Humans have sought to numb ourselves in the name of professionalism?  Then I realized it is because Humans especially have problems with restraining ourselves, and we've decided it is better not to feel than to control it.
        They let the associates go but they themselves kept the hovercraft so Morshaht and the others went up the road on foot, while I and the Advocate stood willingly accepting the chains, and our transport to prison. 
        They tried to escort us secretly so as not to attract the attention of anyone. 
        Once there, we were taken to separate rooms, searched, and given standard prison clothes. 
        The whole time I was nervous and felt so strange.  I didn't belong here.  I wondered about the other prisoners.  Where would I be placed? 
        The Matron was cold and distant.  I guess she would have to be, to work here. 
        I wondered about the Advocate, how this must be for him.  Where would they put him?  Would we really even go to Bardekon? 
        They led me down the dark stone stairwell to cells located in the basement and underground. 
          I was shaking again. 
        We passed through the dimly lit hall of the first level. The construction ceased to be the uniform architecture of regular buildings and resembled sloppy stonewalling. 
        At first seeing was difficult, but as my eyes adjusted, I could make out the cells.  They were simple barred boxes, like a row of animal pens extending up to the ceiling.  There was only the back wall of stone; everything else was open and exposed: no privacy at all. 
          I shuddered. 
          I was placed in a single cell, about ten feet by twelve.  Being that there were no other prisoners on either side of me, I was both relieved and disappointed.  I wondered where Jaymith was. 
          Then I was left alone. 

          Sounds came again, from the hall in the same direction I had just come.  My heart pounded and I wondered who they were bringing.
          To my joy, it was the Advocate!  I had assumed we'd be separated, but here he was and he was placed in the fourteen by twelve cell next to me! 
          Yet at sight of him in prison garb and chains, it struck me deep in the heart.  Here was the Great Advocate, famous, compassionate diplomat, bound and undignified, his distinguished style taken from him. 
          Tears welled up in my eyes for him and yet nothing of his character was changed. He was courteous to the guards, who also still treated him with high regard. Some of them seemed sad also to see him in their custody and being treated as a criminal.
          And still he was not any different. This had no affect on his character as I had come to know him. His strength was still there, and so was the regal-ness still emanating from him. He was no different than before.  It was now that I truly saw the strength and genuine humility of his character.  It comforted me, and I wanted to be like him. 
          He looked over at me, and I held his gaze, letting him know I was all right. 
          He seemed a little relieved though still worn.  Slowly he walked to the back wall amidst the shadows and was still.

          He was comforted a little, but she was young and this was only the beginning. He prayed that her resolve would hold out, and that she would not turn aside from the faith.  He prayed for her heart, and for more wisdom that he might impart to her before things got worse.

          I watched him fade into the shadows and suddenly I realized how exhausted I was.  The excitement had kept me fully alert, but now that we were arrested and placed in our cells, and right next to each other, my body halted.  I went to the wall too, laid down on my side with my back pressed into the lumpy stones and was out like a light.

          Noise! Someone shouted down the hall, more shouting. 
          A guard jogged by, hurrying.
          I awoke confused. 
        Chanting could be heard from outside the prison walls.
          Morshaht had somehow leaked our arrest to the media, under the Advocate's orders. 
          The Prime Minister's worst fears had come to pass.  If this information got back to his superiors, he would be punished.  That was why he tried to keep our arrest a secret, and had us taken at the gate and not outside of the commotion near the prison.  He had hoped to keep this under wraps, but the Advocate wanted to be sure we were not forgotten and remained volatile as long as we were held on Kershon.  Now there was great public unrest, just as the Advocate planned. 
Of course he did not want anyone to get hurt, but a riot was beginning to take place outside.
          "Advocate!" The Prime Minister's voice could be heard echoing off the stone halls as he came, haggard, distraught, and angry. 
          The Advocate came to the front of his cell to stand before the Prime Minister.
          I watched from where I sat in the shadows.
          "Alright you underhanded, scheming diplomat, you have me pinned. I don't have the authority to appease your request. I didn't even know there was an Interstellar Protection Act!  I'm between a rock and a hard place- I can't move."
          He came up to the Advocate's cell and gripped the bars, appearing exhausted, at the end of his rope.  "What do you expect me to do?"
          The Advocate spoke gently, "This quarrel is not with you, Prime Minister, but with the leaders of Bardekon.  You need not concern yourself with any more public unrest.  Send us to Bardekon to appeal before them, and the public will settle. I take full responsibility for this 'insurrection' as I stand before the Council. I have prayed: peace to you. May Yashhan deliver you from their hands for sending us to them."
He seemed perplexed at the answer.  It seemed so simple.  He stepped back again; looking relieved, almost smiled, and turned to go.  "Alright Advocate, you are going to Bardekon."
          I started from my cell, afraid I'd be forgotten and left behind, but the Advocate spoke again.
          "Ms. Carter as well?"
          "Yes, yes.  Both of you are going to Bardekon."
          "Thank you, Prime Minister."
            The Prime Minister stopped for a moment and looked back, as if confused by the Advocate's genuine thanks, and grace. Then he left and as he walked, it seemed that he strode lightly, like the world had been lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe again.

          And so we were brought back from our cells and our clothes returned to us.  Then they escorted us with pomp and ceremony to a grand transport vessel, with media and the whole planet watching. 
          The Prime Minister publicly apologized, stating that he was terribly mistaken, that he should have sent us immediately to Bardekon to appeal our case, and asked for the Advocate's forgiveness. 
          The Advocate graciously nodded and said, "You are forgiven." 
          The whole assembly erupted in applause, but I saw the frustration in the Advocate's face. 
          Then we were led aboard the vessel.
          They took us to the space station, where they separated us, searched us, and put us in prison garb again. 
          All this done, they put us in a tiny transport shuttle, and secured us in an empty storeroom.  There we sat, in the six by eight floor space with one window on the side of the shuttle looking out into the ominous black.

          1:11

          Transport

          In the long silence, we spoke little.
          At one point the loose-fit sleeve of the Advocate's prison garb pulled up briefly showing a great scar on his wrist. Quickly, he pulled it back down and did not look at me, aware I had seen it, but unwilling to acknowledge it.  I felt as though I had seen something I shouldn't have and felt ashamed.  I turned my eyes away.

                   He did not wish for her to see, or to burden her already troubled heart, but now
she had seen, and she would wonder.  He would have to explain, but not yet.  When he
had the right words, he would speak.

          Later, in the long awkward silence, I glanced up at the Advocate again.  He seemed so sad and small, as if he had shrunk again before my eyes.  I wondered, as he gazed out the window, if he had lost hope.  Indeed, as I thought of the Prime Minister, I had little hope for success.  It was just as the Advocate first said, and yet here he was willingly sharing with me in the same suffering.  I was amazed at him: how he considered himself no better than me, or Jaymith.  No one had ever done so much for me before. 
          Suddenly, out of the stillness he spoke in his high rigid voice, still him as I remembered, still looking out, but with a note of tenderness I never heard him use before,
         "Kishabv abvin, dear child."
         I stared at him, surprised.  Why should he address me with such endearment? But in keeping to his character, he did not look at me.
         "It is time you know the meaning of these," He lifted the sleeves showing the scars openly.
        My heart ached to see such marks on him. 
        "Not in detail," he continued, "but in substance: to strengthen and not burden you.  They are, because I chose Yashhan as a child.  You too can stand. Do not fear what they will do. They cannot take the promise unless you give it up, and they will try.  Our enemy is not the Union: not even it's officials.  They are pawns of Evil, and he is opposed to Yashhan and all of His.
          Yashhan is greater.  Love the unworthy. Forgive all.  Submit to the ways of Yashhan, and walk in peace. Trust His strength, His love. Believe the truth of Him.  Do not hear their lies.  The Master has much to do through you, if you are willing.  You are dear to Him. This, He wanted me to tell you."
         As he had spoken, I felt the strength of the words, and my heart swelled. I would forever hold these words in my heart.  I knew they were words from The Master to me, though spoken through the Advocate, and they were strength. I would treasure this memory.