Separation

“If you trust her that much, why not make the precedent?” Mildred asked gently, interrupting him.

Barras shook his head gently. “Another time, perhaps. But this is a crucial point in our history. We have to take to the whitelands to survive, and there would be too much fragility in a change of convention at such a time. Surely you can see that?”

“I can’t say I agree totally, but I do see where you’re coming from,” Mildred admitted.

“Markos is a good man, but distrusts the pale ones because of his brother’s teachings. Elias is more open, but does not have the people’s respect. This delicate balance I must use for my decision. And at a time when I cannot think. There is something else that colors my mind and makes the choosing hard. A secret that is passed down the baronial line and must rest with Sineta before I go into the darkness. Something that is made the more important by the fact of our leaving the island.”

“Then maybe you should tell her now, while you still have the lucidity,” Mildred counseled.

Barras clicked his teeth and shook his head. “Again, not that simple. It could be awkward for this to be known when we—they—are preparing to leave. I will stay here, for I will be gone. But the secret cannot. I must trust you with this, Mildred Wyeth, so that you may carry it with you and tell Sineta at the right moment.”

“And what will be the right moment?”

“You will know. You have enough wisdom for that.” The old man looked away from Mildred, toward the doorway, as he heard the approach of Sineta and Markos. He said hurriedly, “It would be impolitic to tell you now—another time, when you administer my painkiller. Now I must prepare for my final great decree.”

The door to the adobe hut opened and Sineta entered with Markos respectfully at her heel. The sec man shot Mildred a glance that was curious. Was it because he wondered what had been said while she was alone with the baron or was it because he still couldn’t figure her out? The baron had sat himself upright on the pillows and looked from his daughter to the sec boss. He sucked in a breath that was constrained and painful, then began. “I had my daughter bring you here because I have a decree. You will not like it, but it is a necessity. From today, we ready the islanders to leave our home and transport all our wealth, belongings and our spirits to the whitelands.”

Markos’s eyes widened and his mouth fell agape. It took him a moment to regain his composure before saying, “Is this wise?”

“You dare to question me?” Barras snapped. For the briefest of moments Mildred could see the strength of the man shine through, an insight into how he had to have been before the cancer ripped through him.

“No, I would not presume to contradict the word of a baron. I would, however, wish to understand why such a decision—one that will meet with much opposition within the community and inspire resentment that will be divisive in some quarters—has been made.” Barras gave a wry grin. “Very politic. In truth, I would not wish to leave this island unless it was necessary. And in truth, you know that it is. Take your head from the sand and look around you, Markos. This island can no longer support us. Successive generations have drained it dry, and now we have to find a new home. It will not be easy to wrench ourselves away from here, but it must be done. I shall not see it, but it is important we set matters in train right now, lest it be too late.”

“You mean that the word would be better received from you than from me,” Sineta said bitterly.

“That is not a stain on you, but rather an acknowledgment of fact. We shall talk of this another time, when we are alone. For now, all that remains to be said is that it is up to you and Markos to inform the people of my decision and to implement the necessary measures for the people to move. Now leave me. I feel tired, and have to rest…”