Some wanted nothing less than war. But who makes the sides in a war?
Chapter Ten
For the next couple of days Mildred kept some distance between herself and the rest of the companions. Although she wanted to know what Ryan had to say about Barras’s revelation, and if they would act upon it, she was also aware that J.B. had been stung by her suspicions and that at least some of his anger would communicate itself to the others. She wanted time for this to subside, and for herself to gain some kind of equilibrium after the wild seesaw of her own emotions had stabilized.
Besides which, there was work to be done. The preparations for the exodus were nearing completion. The tree felling had been completed and the companions were now at work on the beaches, helping to build boats and seaworthy rafts from the wood they had helped to fell. It was an easier situation for them, as the beach was nearer the ville and, in a more open environment, it was easier to keep alert and to look out for your back. Not that this was as necessary as before. The radical separatists who had been detailed to tree felling weren’t allowed to work on the boats and rafts. Markos, in consultation with Sineta and Mildred, had felt that it may be too tempting for those radicals who were in favor of sabotage to loosen a few joints, slacken a few ropes, and so delay or scupper attempts to leave the island.
Mildred, meanwhile, had neared the completion of her own tasks. The Pilatans had the majority of the personal belongings and the tools of their trade packed and ready, leaving only the necessities for the time up until departure. The treasures of the ville, the armory, and the paintings and writings that charted the history of the ville were also carefully packed, along with food supplies and farming tools.
There was, however, the one treasure that still remained unclaimed, and time was growing short. Mildred had stalled Barras when he had asked to see her, but the old man was growing impatient and nervous on the matter.
“I do not have long, Mildred Wyeth—a matter of days, mebbe not even that,” he had whispered to her on her last visit. “How can I join my ancestors on the long journey knowing that I have let them down in the this manner, that I have betrayed my people?”
Mildred looked at him. She couldn’t argue with his self-diagnosis. He was little more than ashen parchment skin stretched over a skeleton that seemed to shrink into itself with each passing day. His eyes were cloudy, so that she could no longer tell if he was focused on this world or one that he could see beyond this life. His voice was little more than a harsh, croaking whisper.
She would have to act soon, or she was sure that he was right. He would buy the farm without being satisfied. When she’d left the baron on that day, she decided that she would have to act immediately.
It was a decision ratified by the events of the next morning.
“MY FATHER IS NEARING his end,” Sineta said softly as she and Mildred prepared for the day ahead. It was neither question nor statement. She continued. “The time for us to depart grows near, but still I feel I should spend more time with him.”
“So you want me to cover something for you?” Mildred questioned.
“The livestock is to be fitted for the crates that will carry them to the mainland. Horses will be loaded singly, but Markos believes that the pigs and goats should be crated in small numbers.”
“Makes sense,” Mildred agreed. “And you want me to go and oversee the fitting while you spend more time with Barras?”
Sineta fixed Mildred with a puzzled look. “Yes…are you sure that is all right?”
“Yeah, sure,” Mildred said in an offhand manner that she knew sounded false as it left her lips. The truth of the matter wasn’t that Mildred resented covering for Sineta, which was possibly what the baron’s daughter believed; rather, Mildred was concerned that Barras, nearing the big chill and beginning to lose his grip on lucidity, would say something to Sineta about the hidden treasures that Mildred was supposed to have recovered. To hear about it in the ramblings of her dying father and not from Mildred would naturally arouse suspicion. And if she told Markos… The sec boss was already growing distant from Mildred, their earlier attraction replaced by a self-imposed restraint. This would only add to his…what? Suspicion? Confusion? She no longer knew what he felt. Which made him a loose cannon in the equation.