Chapter 10 Hello #2
The man gestured toward the wagon as if inviting her on. “I’m headed there too. Chance has a funny way of bringing people together. Better not ignore it.”
She climbed in clumsily, finding a spot in the corner.
Clutching her bag to her chest, she watched the man as he stretched his arms out over the sacks and bails to his left and right, crossing his ankles in front of him as he spoke to the wagon driver.
His jacket opened to expose a belt with an assortment of gadgets, including a single large dagger.
Baker kept her bag tucked guardedly to her chest, noticing some tattoos peeking out between the man’s sleeve and the end of his glove.
It looked like a list of names and Baker was both nervous, excited and afraid of the possibility.
His fingers continued to move the coin, back and forth from his pinky finger to his thumb.
As they started off on the ride, Baker sat there in silence, looking down at the floor of the wagon only when she didn’t stare at the coin. The noisy cart wheels bumbled across the rocky path, the back of the wagon bouncing along through the woods at a decent pace.
Baker stared at the man’s face now, wanting to ask him how he was so composed.
She wanted to know how to be as sure as he was.
He was fearless and strong, like a spirit of courage, unflinching in the face of realities many seemed to ignore.
Power radiated off of him in a way that made her want to reach out and touch him, perhaps to borrow whatever it was that gave him so much permanence in the transient world she lived in.
Surprised by her boldness, she reached forward, touching his hand as it rested on his knee. His head turned back in her direction in such a way that told her she’d startled him.
She looked up at his face as if just as surprised as he was, but found herself still clinging to his hand. His eyes softened, and he turned his hand in hers so that his palm faced hers.
“Whatever you’re looking for, here you go,” he said, and she looked at his empty palm, puzzled at first but then imagining that maybe this man was magical and he held whatever it was she’d wanted.
Unsure of what it was still, she deliberated as she grasped at his empty palm and leaned back, examining her hands as if she held something powerful and mysterious. She looked back over at him with some measure of awe to find that he was smiling.
“What is it?” he asked, and she assumed he somehow knew the answer and was waiting for her to discover it.
Life , she thought. The type of life that would keep Death away forever. It was the type of life that the man in front of her was made of. She took her palm and pressed it over her chest, already feeling a bit braver. Thankful, she looked at him and smiled back.
“That was a surprise,” he pointed out, clearly pleased.
Somehow, she felt warm in feeling like she’d given something back to this stranger. She nodded, and looked away, embarrassed. A few rays of sun began breaking through the gray clouds, hitting her like a spotlight, lighting up her existence to the rest of the world.
The farmer and the man began talking, and for a while, she just watched him. They exchanged cigarettes, talked about trade, gardening and the ongoing nature of the war before the topic of the ROSE came up.
“I tell you what, those Riders of Saint East are making it worse for the lot of us,” the farmer grumbled.
“Oh, really?” the man in the wagon said, raising an eyebrow as he exhaled smoke playfully into the sky. “The ROSE seem to think the human race is selling its soul.”
For the first time in a long time, she remembered the Riders of Saint East with fondness instead of the horror of their deaths. With striking clarity, her mind swept through the tragedy of the melting mountain and resurrected the memories of laughter and mission of the warriors.
“Yes,” Baker’s word bubbled out of her as both a realization and conviction.
Having heard her speak for the first time, the man raised his eyebrows.
Baker was shocked at the word, wondering if it was perhaps the ease of this man’s presence that gave her the power to talk.
Her voice sounded weak and ill used, but there was no weakness in the conviction of her tone.
She stared as if she couldn’t believe it herself. She gave this man credit for inviting the words, imagining that her silence might again descend like a wall in the presence of anyone else.
“You agree?” He paused, visibly processing not only the implications but the boldness of her words.
She just stared back at him, surprised at her own audacity, but relieved by it. She nodded, as if confirming her agreement.
“Just like that? You agree?” He asked, leaning forward as he waved his cigarette through the air.
She nodded, eyes now drilled into his with a pinched lip and furrowed brows.
She pointed to his wrist, and then planted a hand on her chest. That’s what she wanted from him.
She wanted the life the ROSE had, she wanted what she’d briefly seen in Khalid.
With great vigor, she suddenly remembered them in a new light.
This stranger, just in his existence and manner, had shown her that light again. She wanted him to take her with him.
He seemed to study her intently so she pointed back and forth to his tattoos and then to her chest.
He looked around after a moment and lowered his voice. “Who are you asking? I’m not a recruiter or anything, you know. I’d be really surprised if he was,” the man said, nodding toward the driver. “My guess is that you’re not old enough.”
She grabbed his knee again in protest. She was old enough for everything. It didn’t matter what anyone else said. Suddenly, she wanted to join the ROSE more than she’d ever wanted anything else. The ROSE were alive and it had taken all of this suffering to finally understand what that meant.
“Alright. I guess I can’t argue with that, can I?” he said. “I can tell you about them at least,” he said, starting off on their history that Baker already remembered from Von. Then he transitioned to their rituals and Baker was intrigued.
“Whenever they say hello or goodbye, they kiss each other on the forehead,” he explained, tapping his forehead with two fingers.
“It’s a double meaning. The first is the acknowledgement.
It means I see your truth and that I love you, that your life will always have been lived, and that in that way, it’s eternal. Poetic isn’t it?” he asked.
I see your truth and I love you. Baker thought in amazement. Love. She continued to listen intently and remembered Khalid kissing her on the forehead.
“The second meaning is that we are all connected, and when you kiss that person, you pass on your legacy. They are responsible for carrying it on if you die. It’s why the symbolism of blood is so important to the ROSE.
They are a bloodline, but not by birth, but by sacrifice.
As long as one ROSE is still alive, it carries the deaths and lives of all the others. ”
Urged on by her curiosity, the man shared other things in great detail, taking a break for a while to teach her how to move a coin across her fingers. The break consisted mostly of him watching her drop it.
“It’s alright,” he reassured her when the stress manifested intensely on her face. She looked up at him, desperate for help after dropping it again. He still had that smile on his face, gentle now, and Baker wondered how someone could ever smile so much. It was as if he saw humor in everything.
He demonstrated it to her again, the coin flipping slowly over his hand.
“I practiced a lot,” he explained, “it’s all about balance.
I use it to make choices sometimes.” He handed the coin back to her.
“Sometimes I think we’re better off with chance than with our choices, you know.
There’s so much we can’t possibly know.”
Baker wondered at the idea, still working on balancing the coin until they arrived at the capital. Now she flipped it over her fingers without the frustration of trying to complete a task, but as if she held something magical. Flipping the coin became symbolic of risk.
This man let something as scary as chance dictate his choices. He really wasn’t afraid of anything, was he?
Both of them hopped out of the wagon, walking together up the main path. He stopped talking about the ROSE, warning her that the people around here wouldn’t take mention of them as lightly as he had.
At last, they reached a crossroads only a few more blocks near the Bleeding Grin.
“Why don’t you just ask the Strike to take your fears away?” the man asked, a common question for anyone visiting the capitol. It was clear she was afraid, infected by fear.
Baker shook her head resolutely. It’s mine.
It was one of the few things that she owned.
“You really do have the makings of a ROSE, don’t you?” he sighed in a burdened way and she visibly lit up.
“Calm down, calm down,” he said. He’d shown a keen adeptness to reading people, and Baker imagined he knew what she was thinking. “I told you, I’m not a recruiter. If you die before facing any of your fears, what use would that be anyway?”
That didn’t deter her hopeful stare.
“I really shouldn’t help you,” he said, “the world has its systems, you know. Things are this way for a reason. Things will be much easier for both of us if you just stay put.”
She thrust the coin out in front of him.
He inspected it and chuckled, running a hand through his hair.
Kneeling, he took it. “Alright. Fine,” he said.
He flipped it and then looked at the result, raising an eyebrow.
“Well,” he said and the way he seemed to be admitting defeat brought new joy to her.
“Fine. Alright. If our paths cross again, then I’ll teach you to face your fears, but you have to understand that there is a reason people choose to live in fear all their lives. ”
With a firm stare, and passions bolstered by the conversations of the evening, she looked resolutely forward and nodded.
In that moment, she could almost taste the freedom.
She imagined briefly what fearlessness must feel like.
Her slaver and captor for so many years, for the first time, she believed she could defeat it.
She was more afraid than anyone she knew, and felt that one day her fear would be what killed her. The only way was forward.
Seeing the calm, steady strength in the man’s eyes, she knew that was what she wanted, she knew that somewhere it existed.
“Alright,” he said, extending his hand. She caught sight of his wrist again confirming the simple, single column of names. She shook his hand. “What’s your name?” he asked.
She felt the pressure to speak, and this time, she could not. Her face felt hot with embarrassment, but he reacted with ease.
“It’s alright,” he said as he straightened. “You’ll speak when you’re ready. Until next time, if chance allows. A promise is a promise. Silence is a powerful thing, but learn to practice your words while I’m gone,” he said and walked off.
She heard someone call her from down the street.
She turned abruptly to see Jolie jogging toward her. “Fisher thought he saw you.” She wrestled the bag of medication free. “This is it? You got here fast. Come on,” she said, urging Baker toward the gates of the Bleeding Grin. “Who was that man with you? Are you alright?”
Baker took one last glance at the alley as they headed back.
That night she found the closest thing to a coin, and tossed it over and over, measuring the state of her luck.