Broken Sigil

By Rick Vilante

How far will one man go to protect a secret? What happens when the lives of his family hinge upon that secret? When an ordinary mailman named Jalen Winstone is thrust into a series of events which threaten to unravel his life, he is forced to make choices about who he was, who he is, and who he will become.

Set in the magical world of Fael, where magic has replaced human ingenuity and is a tool of the government and religious elite, Broken Sigil is a tale of swords, magic, treachery, and laughter.

With several factions after Jalen, he must depend on a gun-toting mercenary from a strange land and a soldier-turned-priest at his side. Surrounded by treachery, Jalen is tested in ways he never dreamed of and learns more about his true self than he ever thought possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rick Vilante
• Release date: Apr 21, 2012
• ISBN: 9781452410975

Rick Vilante

Rick Vilante is a full-time office worker living in the Pacific Northwest with his wife and two kids. He splits his days between writing and actual office work and one day hopes to not have to divide his time between the two.His debut novel, "Broken Sigil" was released on Smashwords in April of 2012 and has thus far averaged 4.4 stars out of 5 from various sites over the internet. His goal is to one day encounter readers who are just as passionate about his characters as he is.If you have read Broken Sigil and liked it (or hated it), please leave a review. All feedback is appreciated! Please feel free to leave any questions or comments about the story on my blog!

Book preview

Smashwords Edition

By

Rick Vilante

Copyright 2012 Rick Vilante

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 recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy.

Table of Contents

1 – The Harmless Courier

2 – Pillows and Anniversaries

3 – The Wrong Runner

4 – The Priest and The Hat

5 – Exceptional Services to the Empire

6 – The Mercenary’s Plans

7 – The Great Bear Forest

8 – Fortressness

9 – Reunited

10 – Of Fire and Air

11 – The Broken Sigil

12 – The Half-Truth

13 – The Azure Tower

14 – Six Years and Two Days Ago

15 – A Humble Request

16 – The Task at Hand

17 – Stitched

18 – Offers

19 – Homeward Bound

20 – The Last Leg

21 – The Full Truth

22 – The Mercenary and The Runner

23 – Home

24 – Epilogue: Reports

~~~

This is dedicated to my wife and kids, thank you for everything. And to Gina, thank you for your wonderful curiosity and feedback.

~~~

Sigil: A sign, mark, word, or device held to have power in astrology or magic.

For the Empire, it is also a brand, used to tether allegiance to the Emperor.

For some, it is their salvation.

For others, it is a curse...

The Harmless Courier

 I know you want me dead.  I can murder in your eyes."

 Jalen’s jaw dropped.  Why would I kill you? he asked, I just deliver mail.  For what possible reason in all of Fael would a mailman want to do something like that?

 The shirtless, red-faced nobleman lurched forward, reaching for the frame of the doorway to steady his bulbous form.  After hoisting his sagging, unfastened trousers, he glared at Jalen with drooping eyes.  His legs wobbled beneath his gut, which had seen its fair share of alcohol.  A twisted scowl spread across his lips, and he looked as though he would unleash a volley of spit at Jalen for his insolence.

Should I not be afraid of your ilk? the noble asked; slurring his words as bullets of spittle struck Jalen’s face.  I am quite familiar with the dregs from which the Empire recruits its labor.  Do you think I am so blind that I do not notice the way your kind constantly scurry about my neighborhood?  You and your fellows lack subtlety with the way you study our dwellings, looking for ways to invade our homes to rob us of our wealth!

Jalen slapped his forehead, wincing with amazement.  He pressed a thumb and forefinger to his temples, rubbing in circles to fight off a headache.  Sir, Runners are supposed to ‘scurry’ around throughout the day; we have to make deliveries non-stop no matter the time.  We have no choice, we have deadlines—

With a shaking hand, the Noble raised a lantern from his side, casting the glare upon Jalen’s eyes.  The scowl on his lips intensified as he narrowed his eyes and let out a retort, Bah!  Do not think for a second that I cannot see through your ruse!  Your scrawny body, diminutive stature, the wide-eyed ignorance of youth—all traits meant to lull people such as myself into a false sense of trust!

Jalen released a sigh.  You do realize the Runners’ Sigil prevents us from doing anything you just described, right?

The Noble hiccupped, And thank the Creator for the magical bindings which keep your kind in check!  I see the bulge from the dagger hidden beneath your vest!  If not for our Emperor, I have no doubt it would have been plunged into my heart the moment you set eyes upon my estate!

After closing his eyes, Jalen held his breath, clenching his jaw with growing impatience.  He reminded himself that power and wealth did not equal common sense.

His hand shaking, Jalen reached into his satchel and retrieved a folded note for the nobleman.  The name on the note matched the engraving on the sign outside the mansion gate.  That was the only way Jalen knew his deliveries were made to the right person; he couldn’t actually read the words written on his charges.

The Noble continued to scowl as he accepted the paper, eyeing Jalen with contempt.  It is nearly midnight and you wake me up for this? he yelled.

After spreading the widest smile he could manage while mustering his manners, Jalen responded.  Like I said, we deliver around the clock!

Before Jalen could ask if the nobleman had anything to be picked up, the man spat a wad of sticky, wine-laced mucus onto Jalen’s cheek and slammed the door shut. 

Jalen took off his left glove and pinched the bridge of his nose.  Thankfully this was the last delivery of the day.  Since the Nobles didn’t pay delivery taxes, the empty satchel at Jalen’s side meant he was free to go home.  Nine hours of picking up and dropping off mail had left his feet yearning for respite.

He wondered every day what it would be like to live as one of them; without worrying about manual labor, having servants waiting on you hand and foot, while knowing your children were looked after and educated by the finest private tutors in the Empire.

But no, he was an Imperial Runner, magically bound—or shackled, if you asked Jalen—to ten years of service.  Either that or he accepted having his assets seized, exile from the Empire, being branded a criminal and forcing his family to fend for themselves.  An obvious decision, but Jalen wished they would have prepared him better for the job.  Nobody told him about the never-ending stream of complaints.  And nobody, not one soul, ever warned him about dogs.  He hated the dogs, always snapping at his satchel and nipping his fingers.  Despite worse obstacles, Jalen often managed to avoid trouble.

He ran his hand through the short, golden tufts of hair sprouting upwards from his head before massaging his neck.  After putting his glove back on, he wiped the spit off his cheek and let out a sigh as he sped off on foot, admiring his surroundings and lamenting the self-absorbed ingrates living there.

The Heights looked pristine during this time of year, especially with the upcoming Harvest Festival, when the affluent really showed off their fortunes.  The owners of every mansion took great pains to ensure their servants had decorated their estates according to their masters’ wishes.

Jalen glanced at the nearest estate; a three-story monstrosity with white stucco walls, a red tiled roof, and arched windows.  It looked as big as five houses from the lower districts.  The owners installed magical decorations to accentuate their already impressive home.  The window frames glowed with lights alternating between a radiant gold and rich red.  Enchanted ivy crept up the walls, with green sparkles upon the leaves.  In the center of an immaculate front lawn, an enchanted cherry sapling grew to full bloom in a matter of seconds, with showers of gold and white sparkles falling from the branches before shrinking down to a seedling and sprouting forth again.

Jalen shook his head.  And if I could afford to, I’d show off the same way…

Wrought iron streetlamps—magically kept aglow—adorned with looping metalwork representing the waves of the sea lined the streets. Wreaths of golden leaves hung from each lamppost, accentuating their warm light.  Even the sidewalks had been scourged to make it seem as if no one had ever set foot upon them.  A far cry from his former home in the Slums—not that his current home was bad—Jalen once believed living in the Heights would be the dream of a lifetime.  The inhabitants had changed his mind on the matter.  He took another glance around before sighing again into the night, and continued on his way.  No signs of trouble so far.

A twenty foot stone archway guarded the entrance to the gated community of the Heights, and at its base stood two Imperial Guards, adorned with the standard uniform of the Empire:  A tabard of red and gold draped over a chainmail cuirass, metal pauldrons attached with leather suspenders clasped to their belts, leather gloves and greaves reinforced with shining metal plates, and metal helms with visors that flipped down to act as eye-guards.  As Jalen approached, a subtle green glow emanated from his eyes.  One of the guards turned and waved him onward.  Jalen didn’t hesitate; his bed called to him from afar.

Throughout the rest of the city, the streets teemed with people.  Despite the late hour, Jalen expected this.  In Danmer, only an outbreak of plague could empty her streets. As the Imperial Capital, the city never slept.

Mobs of Imperial officials mulled about the avenues, adding to the already bloated horde of citizens going about their business.  Everywhere Jalen turned, somebody barked orders at bare-chested laborers putting up decorations for the Harvest Festival.  Debates raged at each storefront about the minute differences a few inches could make with regard to the holiday décor.

Madness, Jalen thought, I love the squabbling about whether a wreath looks better two inches to the right or six inches to the left, but nobody gives a damn about security!  This is a pickpocket’s dream!

Navigating the bustling, disorganized streets, Jalen nearly collided with a group of laborers hauling a sign to be hung up on a storefront.  Their labor-boss wasted no time in turning his wrath upon Jalen, cursing at him while the laborers chuckled.  Jalen turned and grinned with a shrug, uninterested in another round of heckling.

During the hour of fighting through the crowds, Jalen passed the Government District—with its cobblestoned streets lined with two-story stone structures, and Old Town—where the original wooden buildings of the city still stood beside paved avenues. Soon the smell of fish, pickles, and sweat tickled Jalen’s nose.

Gone were the horses, merchants, and obnoxious labor-bosses. Instead, gangs of sailors and drunken dockhands staggered beside him. Sails flapped upon masts, whipping against the cool night breeze. He had to be near the riverbanks. The stench churned his stomach, but Jalen didn’t care. It just meant he was that much closer to his bed.

In the distance, he spied the rails of the Old Town Bridge, a reminder of how close he was to home.  Jalen scanned the crowd between him and the bridge then frowned and sped off.  He’d spotted something and knew he had no time to waste.  A single face in the crowd had locked eyes with Jalen, and upon sight began to push straight towards him.

They were always there, and as a Runner, he always had to be mindful of their presence. They kept to the shadows: bandits, thieves, and pickpockets, always watchful for a mark.  Jalen knew the signs all too well and learned to keep his eyes and ears open.

"There, running past the dockhands, near the bridge.  Headed to the Commons it looks like," said a faint voice.

Jalen couldn’t believe his ears.  Why did some bandits insist on announcing their intention?  It never made sense.  Then again, Jalen wouldn’t complain about getting a fair warning.  He doubled his efforts, shooting for gaps, winding his way among the sweaty, dirt-stained bodies choking the street.  His deliberate pathfinding proved fruitless when a backward glance revealed the stranger getting closer.

Jalen tried to break through the crowd, fighting towards the bridge.  His empty satchel alleviated his fear of pickpockets, but not of bandits. They beat first and robbed second, despite harsh penalties for interfering with Runners.

Jalen felt the man getting closer, swimming through the crowd.  Guards…I need to find some guards, Jalen thought as he pressed on.

The throng swelled towards the center of the bridge, slowing Jalen to a near-crawl. He felt as if he were wading in quicksand, getting nowhere despite his efforts. In desperation, he called out.

Imperial Runner in need of a guard!  Make way!

His announcement proved for naught.  Several citizens looked his way but shrugged and turned their heads.  Not a single guard could be seen. One person stepped aside, allowing Jalen to inch ahead.  The level of indifference incensed him.  He swore under his breath, threw another glance backwards, and swore again.  His actions had backfired; two more men had locked their sights on Jalen, these ones taller and burlier, wearing wicked grins above their solid chins.

Jalen spun around and barreled through the wall of bodies, drawing curses from the crowd.  Subtlety no longer mattered; only getting across the bridge.  A guard posting waited just beyond; hopefully with some help. More swearing came from behind.  Another backwards glance revealed the first bandit, smaller than the others but no less determined, trailing just a few yards away.

As Jalen turned forward, his cheek slammed into something solid, knocking him to the ground with a thud. He rubbed his head and looked up.  A mule-drawn cart had lost a wheel on the bridge, and Jalen had had the stupid luck to run straight into it.

Without hesitation Jalen sprung to his feet and began to dart ahead when a hand grasped his upper arm.  On instinct, Jalen’s hand shot inside his vest and closed around the grip of his dagger.  He whirled around and raised the blade above his head, bringing it down at his attacker before stopping the tip just short of the man’s heaving chest.

Clinging to the man’s sweat covered body was a white, buttoned up shirt with long sleeves, identical to Jalen’s.  The Imperial Seal—two crossed axes over the hammer of Halver set above the northern mountains—had been branded into the left breast of his leather vest.  He held a rolled piece of parchment in his right hand, bound together with thin twine.  Trembling, the bewildered Runner handed Jalen the message, his eyes wide with terror.

F-for you, Winstone, he stuttered.  An order s-straight from D-Danvers.

Jalen sheathed his dagger at once.  Hoping the sight of his weapon scared them away; he scanned the crowd and noticed the other stalkers had disappeared.  Relieved, he then fixed his eyes on the Runner and wrinkled his brow.

Are you new? he asked.  The Runner looked younger, barely out of his teens.

Aye, Sir.  Brought in two weeks ago.  I’m to be taking the extra shifts during the holidays before getting a proper assignment, the Runner replied.

Jalen spun the rolled message around on the palm of his hand as he eyed the Runner’s face.  Ugh, please…don’t call me ‘Sir’. What’s your name, and what’s this message about?

Name’s Daley.  Danvers wants a meeting with you tomorrow.  Says it’s urgent.

Jalen raised an eyebrow.  Why give me a scroll then?  I thought everybody knew I can’t read…

Daley shrugged. He wants you to put your mark on it.

Jalen studied Daley, wondering how much he really knew about the job.  Danvers was the head of the Imperial Carrier Corps in Danmer and addressing Runners in-person wasn’t his style.  Jalen unfurled the scroll as a few more pedestrians shot both Daley and him scornful looks for standing in the middle of traffic.  Several people nearly bumped into Jalen, but on instinct he swayed aside, ignoring their remarks about loitering.  Daley flinched whenever anybody came within a few inches of him and his satchel, drawing an amused smile from Jalen.

Jalen’s eyes wandered over the parchment.  Several phrases were written on the scroll, along with the only word that Jalen recognized: his name.  A lump formed in his throat which he promptly swallowed.  A surprise meeting with Danvers didn’t bode well.  Jalen rolled off his left glove, exposing the magic Imperial Seal—his sigil—tattooed onto the back of his hand.  He pressed it against the parchment, which lit up with a bright blue glow.  Daley’s eyes widened as Jalen held the parchment against his skin for a few seconds, until the glowing faded.

Here, Jalen said, rolling up the parchment and handing it to Daley, Tell him I’ll be there.

Alright.  They also said to let you know that it would be after your shift, which will start in the morning, Daley replied, as he tucked the message into his satchel. 

Jalen sighed.  He’d originally been scheduled to take a mid-day route the following day.  This meant he would get six hours of rest if he was lucky.  By the way, how did you find me? he asked.

They had a Court Wizard plant an image of your face in my head.  Then he put a spell on my sigil to make it glow brighter the closer I got to you and gave a route that made sure you and me ran close to each other.

Magic.  Jalen should’ve known the answer before he asked.  Still, the Empire had taken a chance in entrusting Daley’s ability to spot a single face among the crowd.  Whatever they wanted Jalen for, it must be urgent.  Before he could press the matter further, Daley gave him a quick salute and spun around towards the north end of the bridge.   Jalen knew he should get moving too if he wanted any sleep.  He turned, and continued home.

Jalen’s home lay tucked away in the Workers’ Commons, a gated district on the south half of the city.  Only Runners, Imperial Officers (such as the city guard), and residents were allowed beyond the gates.  Of course, anybody wielding magic could find their way past the watchful eyes of the gate guards, but Jalen doubted anybody with that much power had any business in the district.

Thankfully, once Jalen reached the south half of the city, he found traffic far easier to navigate.  At nearly one o’clock in the morning, most citizens were concentrated in the docks, markets, or Old Town.  Despite being closer to home, Jalen made sure to keep a wary eye until he arrived at the gates to the Commons.  Just because he couldn’t wait to get home didn’t mean the streets were any safer, although one sight gave him pause:  Across the road, a hunched old crone holding onto a collection of shining trinkets limped her way towards the bridge, hardly a threat in Jalen’s eyes, except he could’ve sworn the faint odor of dried urine assaulting his nose came from her direction.

Two guards stood watch at the Old Road entrance to the Commons.  Their hands shot to the grips of their swords as Jalen approached, their eyes locking onto his features.  Jalen waved merrily.

Hold, citizen, until we’ve checked you. One of the guards said, holding up his palm towards Jalen.  The Guard kept his sword gripped in his other hand.

Jalen slowed to a strut, and flashed a wide grin at the guards as green light flashed from his eyes.

Right then, the other guard continued.  Carry on.  Have a good evening, citizen.

And the same to you both! Jalen replied.  Despite their limitations, he respected the City Guard for what they did.  Jalen was paid to run away from danger.  The guards were expected to march straight towards it.

Jalen sprinted past the sentries, making a beeline for his house.  It lay on the southern edge of the district, nestled against one of the massive seventy-foot high ironstone walls encapsulating the city limits.  As part of a housing project for the Empire’s most loyal workers, Jalen’s house looked identical to all others surrounding it: wooden with two stories, with plain wood siding, a window on the face of the second floor and each bedroom, and another on the bottom floor that peered into the living room. 

Unlike the Heights, the Commons lacked grand displays of décor.  No polished streetlamps, no immaculate walkways, no fences separating the lots; just rows and rows of the same house.  A well tended garden full of tomatoes, carrots, pea-sprouts, eggplants, and potatoes in Jalen’s backyard set his home apart from his neighbors.  Jalen always took caution when stepping through the garden, knowing the consequences if he spoiled any of its magnificent bounty.

Short of breath, throbbing feet and knees creaking loud enough to wake the dead, Jalen shambled up to his front door.  The signboard nailed to the door had come loose again, hanging off to its side.  He sighed and straightened it for what seemed the thousandth time, until the name ‘WINSTONE’ appeared properly.

After gingerly turning the knob, Jalen stepped over the threshold, welcomed by a wave of warmth.  A single lamp stood upon an end-table in the corner, providing a dim, flickering light for the unadorned front room.  Beyond were the kitchen and stairs to the second floor, beneath which stood the washroom.

Jalen crept towards the lamp, treading lightly over the hardwood flooring.  He put out the lamp before making his way up the stairs, stopping at the end of the landing.  The door to Rachel and L.J.’s room was shut, but from his room he saw another light dancing from beyond a cracked door.

A grin spread on Jalen’s face as he snuck towards his room; it seemed L.J. had waited up for him again.  He pushed open his door but paused:  Rachel stood beside his dresser, his wedding ring rested in the palm of her hand as she stared down at it with fiery amber eyes.  She turned as he entered, a warm, gentle smile forming as her face lit up.

I had a weird feeling about you tonight, she said.

 Jalen made his way to Rachel and threw his arms around her.  Well, you have nothing to worry about, he said.  I’m home safe and sound.

Rachel gave Jalen a peck on the cheek before placing his ring back on the dresser.  She studied him with her eyes for a moment before wrinkling her brow.  What’s wrong?

Nothing!  Just another rough day.  I got spat on again. Would’ve been home earlier but extra deliveries put me back.  I’m just exhausted.

Rachel wrinkled the corners of her mouth.  You’ve always been able to lie to everybody but me.

Jalen let out a sigh.  Danvers wants to see me tomorrow.

Rachel’s eyes widened. What!  Why?  Did you do something?

Not that I know of! Jalen said as he let go of Rachel and sat on his bed. As far as I know, it might just be related to my anniversary.

Rachel pursed her lips and gave Jalen a curious look before nodding and making her way to his door.  If they know…

If they knew, we wouldn’t be here.

Rachel let out a sigh, then hung her head and turned to the hallway.  It’s late.  I should get back to L.J. before he misses me.

Give him a goodnight kiss for me, alright?

Of course, Rachel said with a loving smile, before closing the door behind her.

Left alone with his thoughts, Jalen stripped to his underwear and lay in bed, staring at the beams in the ceiling.  He had a feeling that today was going to be different when he reported in.  Working his aching body, he turned onto his stomach, drifting asleep with little effort.  A single thought repeated in his head as he slipped into oblivion:

There’s no way they can know…because the minute they found out…I’d be dead…

~~~

Pillows and Anniversaries

Jalen wanted to tell the world he was dead.  He couldn't, but he wanted to.  He despised mornings. 

Daily life in the Winstone household began before sunrise for all but him.  From the kitchen, pots clanked and utensils scraped against sizzling pans on the stove.  Despite the clamor downstairs, Jalen lay face down in his bed, fast asleep.  His rear-end stuck up at a sharp angle into the air as he lay with his body contorted on the bed.  Pinned beneath his chest, his arms folded off to his right, jutting out over the edge of the mattress.  

After late shifts, he usually slept well into the morning.  Tufts of mussed up hair poked out in odd directions from the back of his head as his pillow muffled his snores.  His feet stuck out from under his sheets, but only because he never bothered to make his bed properly, resulting in a cluttered, tangled heap of blankets on top of his mattress.

 By some miracle, L.J.—short for Little Jalen—did him a favor yesterday and cleaned the room, which normally looked like a twisted labyrinth of discarded clothes.  Both Rachel and Jalen were thankful for the gesture; even if L.J.’s method of cleaning consisted of hanging everything onto Jalen’s freestanding coat rack, making it look like a bush of tangled linen.

The aroma of cooked meat wafting into the room stirred Jalen, as his stomach growled in defiance of slumber.  He reluctantly roused himself for another day, when a long, slow, creaking broke the silence of the room. Was fatigue playing tricks with his ears again?  He cracked open an eye and found his door open, but thought he’d left it that way last night.  Noting nothing unusual, he closed his eye and decided to steal a few more moments of rest.

creeeeeeak

 Jalen lifted his head, sweeping the room with a lazy glance.  With his eyes itching from lack of sleep, he saw nothing but the blurred outlines of his dresser and coat rack.  Again, noting nothing out of the ordinary, he smiled and put his head back down. 

creeeeeeak

He had no doubts this time, it had to be him.  Jalen expected this after a late night of work, when his exhaustion carried into the morning.  It was almost a certainty: L.J. was here.  Jalen was now a player in one of L.J’s favorite games—sneaking into the room while he slept to surprise him. 

Despite infrequent success, nothing discouraged L.J.’s efforts.  Jalen enjoyed it as a fun exercise in the morning, welcoming the energetic start to the day.  The game amused him and he anticipated the challenge of catching L.J. red handed.  Convinced that a surprise awaited him the moment he got out of bed, Jalen hatched a strategy to catch him and turned onto his back, remaining stiff as a board.

Jalen kept his eyes closed. I know you’re here, he groaned.  His eyelids felt like lead on his eyes.  If not for L.J., he would’ve gladly taken another hour of sleep.

L.J. didn’t respond of course, but Jalen felt a little warning wouldn’t hurt.  He sat upright and stretched his arms outward, bending backwards to loosen his tired body, letting out a brief yawn before leaning over the side of the bed to peek underneath.

You under here? Jalen asked, peering below his matresses.

He found nothing but a pair of dirty socks and a shirt that he’d lost the week before, buried beneath a colony of lint balls.  L.J. wouldn’t make this easy.  Jalen smiled and pulled himself upright, expecting L.J. to surprise him as he straightened.  Instead, a stark silence filled the room.

Impressive! Jalen muttered with admiration.  L.J. was getting better.  Jalen gave a few light congratulatory claps before getting up.  The floorboards sent a chill up his bare feet, drawing a delayed shiver from his body.  He stretched his arms towards the ceiling, raising them as far as they would go before swinging them around in loose circles to work out any lingering soreness.  Jalen glanced at his arms, taking exception with the nobleman’s comments from last night.  He didn’t consider himself scrawny at all.  While some of his colleagues, with their well defined midsections and powerful chests had bodies that had been worked to perfection, Jalen just looked ‘normal.’  He regretted not reacting with a smart comment about the Noble’s rotund figure.

Jalen rubbed his face, trying to spur himself and erase the fatigue from his dark brown eyes.  His squared jaw throbbed from sleeping awkwardly on his pillow and he massaged it along the sides, trying to nudge it back into place.  After giving his head a few shakes followed by a light slap on his cheek, he decided that if he was going to find L.J., he may as well begin. 

He staggered to his feet, still aching from the night before, and checked L.J.’s usual spots.  In the closet—the only part of the room to be organized in any way—Jalen found nothing but his work clothes and cloak, some shirts hanging in neat rows, and his spare traveling boots gathering dust on the floor. 

After putting on some pants that he’d left hanging on a bedpost, Jalen checked behind his door, behind his dresser, and even looked inside the dresser before scratching his head and giving up.  By now, if L.J. was in the room, he certainly would have revealed himself just to brag about his superb hiding skills.

Must be the damn rats again, Jalen thought, as he straightened his pants.  He would make sure to report this at the next Commons Community Meeting.  It annoyed him that the pests still hadn’t been properly attended to, especially since he’d made it clear at the last meeting that Rachel was terrified of them spreading disease.  Jalen failed to understand how a city that used magic for everything from plumbing and sewage to basic street lighting had been unable to keep out common variety pests from its citizens’ households.

Breakfast is ready! called a sweet voice from downstairs.

Disgruntled about the rats and disappointed that L.J. wasn’t around; Jalen shook his head and stepped towards his coat rack to grab a shirt.  The instant he reached over, the entire rack of clothes burst out towards him, covering him in a jumble of linen.  One of his heavier coats caught him square in the face, engulfing his head inside a muffled, dark prison.  His arms and legs became entangled, forcing him off balance as he scrambled to free himself.  After managing to wring his right arm loose, Jalen uncovered his eyes moments before a large pillow struck his jaw.  Already off-balance, he stumbled and fell backwards onto his bed in a tangled heap.  Desperate, Jalen reached out and managed to grab a pillow.  He swung wildly to defend himself to no avail. 

His attacker unleashed a flurry of blows with the pillow, pressing the offensive with hysterical giggling.  Realizing his unfocused flailing wasn’t accomplishing anything, Jalen settled down before swinging his pillow in the general direction of the muffled sounds.  The pillow connected with someone as he felt a body fall upon the bed beside him, bursting with laughter.

I got you good this time!  You should have seen the look on your face! L.J. squealed with a smile, hopping on Jalen’s bed while clapping his hands in delight.  Freed from his linen trappings, Jalen shook his head and took a weary look at his ambusher.  L.J. beamed at Jalen with his chest puffed out, while pointing a mocking finger at him. 

Despite the disorientation from the thrashing, Jalen couldn’t help but be impressed by L.J's elaborate measures.  It had been weeks since he’d been caught off guard.  To show his appreciation, Jalen gave L.J. a smile and retaliated with a gentle pillow-whack on the side of the head.  As Jalen regained his senses; he noticed L.J’s feet bulging with several layers of socks.

What’s with your feet? he asked.

It’s so you wouldn’t hear my footsteps, L.J. replied with pride.  His high pitched and youthful voice reminded Jalen of his younger days, when he was the primary perpetrator of mischief for the family.  It took forever to get them on.  If I knew magic I could’ve put on more layers!

Jalen smiled and stared into L.J.’s inquisitive brown eyes, identical to his own and filled with happiness and life.  If you knew magic, you could just use that to make your footsteps quieter…

L.J.’s eyes widened.  Oh yeah!

Jalen scratched his head.  Still, that was a pretty good idea…

L.J. beamed.  Thanks!

 Another thought dawned upon Jalen. Hold on, is this why you offered to clean my room yesterday?

The grin on L.J.’s face widened. Yes, Sir!

I wondered why you put so many clothes on to that rack instead of just stuffing my dresser!  Did your mother know what you were up to?

Nope!  When I told her I was cleaning your room she called me crazy and said ‘good luck.’ She also said you would happy about a lot less yelling. 

Jalen shook his head and chuckled.  Rachel was right.  He’d been so delighted to see that his room was cleaned that he hadn’t bothered to ask why the coat rack had been so overloaded.   Having been pestered for weeks to get the room organized, he felt grateful for the reprieve from Rachel’s heckling.

So, how did you come up with a scheme like this? Jalen asked.  Despite being only six years old, L.J.’s plans never failed to impress.

Old Man Erich told me about one time when he was in the army and they had to ambush a bunch of jungle savages from down south.  He said they had to hide inside big trees with something called ‘cam-o-flodge,’ and it was a really neat story and it gave me ideas.

Erich may have been a grumpy old man, but he meant well.  Jalen envied the easy, laid-back life of the retired city guard living next door.  He loved spending time with L.J., telling all sorts of stories about his life in the Imperial Army and later as a City Guard.  His children had moved away and started lives elsewhere and his had wife died many years ago.  Amused, though slightly annoyed by the thought of his neighbor giving advice on how to make his life difficult, Jalen gave L.J. another smile and ruffled his sandy blonde hair.

So, should I go over there and see if he’ll give me any advice on getting back at you then? Jalen quipped.

"He won’t help you; he says you are too much of a fairy boy.   Does that mean he thinks you can do magic?"

Don’t you worry about what that means! Jalen said. And you just wait; I’ll find a way to get you back!

Nuh-uh!  I know all your tricks! L.J. replied, You’ll never get me!

Before Jalen could answer; L.J. dove off the bed, bolting out of the room towards the stairs in a fit of laughter.  Jalen shook his head and sighed.  He took a moment to survey the aftermath of the morning chaos.  He hung his shoulders and let out a resigned snicker; clothes lay strewn over the previously cleared floor and on the bed, leaving a worse mess than had been there before.  With the room in shambles, Rachel would probably get on his case if he let it be, and he began to pick up. 

Halfway through cleaning, the room grew noticeably brighter as the first slivers of sunlight crept above the city walls, shining through his bedroom window.  Sounds of chatter and clattering from the street trickled in from the outside.  People were emerging from their houses on their way to their daily routines.  With the room nearly cleaned, Jalen checked to see if he’d missed anything major, wanting to keep the heckling to a minimum.  He’d managed to pick up most of the clothes and with the exception of the heap of sheets on his bed and some shirts lying at the base of his foot-board, the room almost looked acceptable by Jalen’s standards.

His thoughts turned his meeting with Danvers.  He couldn’t help but wonder what lay in store.  Today was his sixth anniversary in the Carrier Corps, and while that was an accomplishment in of itself, a meeting with Danvers only meant trouble.  Jalen wanted only one thing from his job: to be unnoticed.  Being noticed would be bad; being noticed meant possibly letting his secret slip.

Jalen knew Rachel dwelt upon the news as much as he did.  The last thing he needed her to do was worry about what might happen if the Empire knew about his secret.   He jumped when he heard her call from downstairs.

Are you coming to eat, or does L.J. get seconds? Rachel yelled.

Thoughts of piping hot food filling his growling stomach were more than enough to snap Jalen back into reality. Just give me a moment!  Almost done; don’t you let him touch my food!

Though Rachel’s gentle nature didn’t exactly inspire fear, Jalen knew what happened if he left any of his meal uneaten, and he was in no mood to start trouble today.  Rachel abhorred wasting food and made sure somebody in the markets got their leftovers.  At the end of the day, whoever failed to finish their portions would receive a lecture so intense that even the Emperor would whimper in shame.  Coming from a peasant family from the Westfields, Rachel took care to ensure food never went to waste.

Jalen triple checked to make sure his room looked presentable, and dashed downstairs into the kitchen.  L.J. sat at the table, devouring his breakfast while Rachel put out the fire in the stove.  While stowing a pot in a cupboard, she shot him a look with her lips pursed, meaning is everything okay?  Jalen responded with a wink, tilting his head towards L.J., signaling the little one got me today.

Rachel giggled.  She loved it when L.J.’s ambushes worked.  At the very least, it ensured Jalen would be up early in the morning instead of sleeping in at every opportunity. 

As Rachel pressed her forearm to her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughing, Jalen found himself gazing at her in adoration.  Her bright smile lit up her soft, delicate features, and on so many times like this he wondered what in the world possessed her to tolerate a slob like himself.  Her warm amber eyes sparkled against the stove-fire, looking particularly lively today.  Her auburn hair flowed along her slender neck, caressing her shoulders like strands of fine silk.  Despite her unassuming demeanor, Rachel’s beauty commanded attention.  But when she displayed her incredible kindness, people truly became enthralled with her.

Not one day ever passed in which she did not offer something, to either friend or stranger, in charity.  Because of her generosity, she was beloved by those around her.  On many occasions men—a few of them being nobles of the city—tried to garner her attention.  Thankfully, the watchful eye of the city guards kept unruly suitors from imposing upon her.  Erich was the only man exempt from making advances to her, mostly because he did it in such a light hearted manner.

 Jalen grinned as his mouth watered, rubbing his hands together in delight as he noticed a plate of sizzling-hot steak fresh off the skillet with a side of scrambled eggs—his favorite dish.  He knew Rachel had prepared it especially for this day.

Remember, she said, giving Jalen a loving pat on the back. If you don’t want this, the littler version of you volunteered to finish it.

I’ve got this handled, thanks, Jalen said with a wink at L.J. Until last night I thought you might have forgotten, even though everybody at the Hub keeps reminding me whether I like it or not.

Rachel gave him a warm smile. Sometimes I can’t believe it’s already been six years...

You know, L.J. cut in, with a mouthful of meat. Erich said that most Runners die, go missing, or have to retire before their fourth year because of their health.  Most of the time they get beat up and lose an arm or a leg!  Erich said only a few have ever lasted the full ten years and those that do are horribly scar—

Okay that’s enough!  I swear, I’ll never understand why you aren’t afraid of any of those things happening, Rachel cut in before L.J. went into details, which he would have described as explicitly as possible.  L.J. shrugged and went back to his breakfast.

A grin spread on Jalen’s face. Well, you don’t have to worry about anything, I’ve stayed out of trouble up to this point and I don’t intend on running into a shack full of bandits to advertise my collections for the day.  All I have to do is stay cool, put up with the idiots living in the Heights, and in four more years we won’t have to wonder if I’m coming home safe anymore, he said, more so for Rachel than L.J., who sat in his chair beaming at his bravado.  Jalen was more than happy to keep the more dangerous aspects of his job a well guarded secret from Rachel.

Most of the other Runners whom Jalen had been working beside had only been in service for about two years, and those he considered friends had been reminding him for the past four weeks of his upcoming anniversary.  Uncommon as it may be, it wasn’t unheard of to last this long.  After all, his superiors had obviously been in the service long enough to be in their positions and continue their work for the Empire.  Jalen had no such ambitions though; as soon as his service term was up he planned on a quieter, less exciting life.

Rachel sat beside Jalen, taking