It had come to a head that morning when Mildred had explained to Sineta her decision. The woman had considered Mildred’s words carefully before answering.
“We must leave this island, that much you know. And the fact that you and the whitelanders have such a close bond should show all but the most intractable of the islanders that it is possible for us to live in peace on the whitelands, and that not all pale ones are the demons and ogres of legend. If they were to be released, and the islanders were to meet them and exist behind them for a short while, then it would perhaps help to reinforce this.”
“But there will be those who will disagree—”
“There have always been people like that, in any situation,” Mildred interrupted. “If they’re not the majority, then their objections can be answered and overruled by the majority.”
“It is perhaps not that easy,” Sineta argued. “There are those who have gotten to know you who will consider you a traitor to your skin for suggesting such action, wondering why you have chosen to do this after seemingly settling in with us, and these people will perhaps turn against me if I back you.”
Mildred shrugged. “That’s a risk I’ll have to take— you, too. If you help me, then I can help you. I’ll support you as you need when the time comes to make your stand. I know that’s what you want—shit, anyone would. You’re going to take a lot of crap about your decision to assume the leadership yourself and maybe, me being an outsider, I can help you more than anyone caught up in the politics of the situation. I figure I would have done it anyway, because I feel you’re doing the right thing. But just maybe having the others free will help for the reasons you say—it’ll show your willingness to lead well by showing how ‘pale ones’ and the brothers and sisters can coexist.” Mildred smiled deprecatingly. “I know I’ve got my own agenda, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t mean it, right?”
Sineta came forward and embraced her. “I believe you, and I believe in you, Mildred Wyeth. You have your bargain. There is only one thing I would wish to know—why has it taken you so long to talk of this?”
ALWAYS THE SAME question. Mildred had no idea how it could be answered, but the moment was saved by the sudden explosion of Markos, the sec boss being no longer able to contain his anger.
“Barras, you cannot seriously contemplate such a ridiculous move,” he yelled, springing to his feet. “Surely you can see that this would cause nothing but discord and disharmony—”
The baron silenced him with a raised hand. The sec boss’s respect for the baron was such that he ceased speaking immediately, although his staring eyes and heaving chest told of the emotion he fought to contain. “Do not tell me what I may or may not do for my own people. Until—if—you take the hand of my daughter, you are not the baron nor the heir to the responsibility. So do no presume to tell me my duty.”
“I’m…I’m sorry,” the sec boss stammered. “I did not wish…1 wanted merely to—”
“That is immaterial. The fact remains that you dare to speak across and against.”
“But what is your decision, Father?” Sineta pressed. The ailing baron beckoned Mildred to approach. Keeping an eye on the sec boss and noticing the way he stared at her as she moved near—a mixture of whipped-dog disbelief and anger—she approached the baron’s bedside.
“Mildred Wyeth,” Barras began, as though it were a statement in itself, “I have heard much about you from my daughter. She says you are a medicine woman, and that you carry much with you. Is this so?”
“It is,” Mildred answered simply. “I carry what supplies I can find in my travels, and I know how to use them. But if you’re going to ask—”
“I am not,” he interrupted. “I know that I am on the long walk to join the lands where my ancestors dwell, and I realize that the road is not long anymore. My end is drawing near, I only ask that I have peace along the way.”