Faith of the Fallen

Mother quickly forgot about Father as she became engrossed in the discussion her friends were having about the terrible conditions of people in the city. People were suffering from hunger, injuries, sickness, disease, lack of skill, no work, too many children to feed, elderly to care for, no clothes, no roof over their heads, and every other kind of strife imaginable. It was all so frightening.

Nicci was always anxious when Mother talked about how things couldn't go on the way they were for much longer, and that something had to be done.

Nicci wished someone would hurry up and do it.

Nicci listened as Mother's fellowship friends talked about all the intolerant people who harbored hate. Nicci feared ending up as one of those terrible people. She didn't want the Creator to punish her for having a cold heart.

Mother and her friends went on at great length about their deep feelings for all the problems around them. After each person said their piece, they would steal a glance over at the man sitting solemnly in a straight chair against the wall, watching with careful, dark eyes as they talked.

"The prices of things are just terrible," a man with droopy eyelids said. He was all crumpled down in his chair, like a pile of dirty clothes.

"It isn't fair. People shouldn't be allowed to just raise their prices whenever they want. The duke should do something. He has the king's ear."

"The duke. ." Mother said. She sipped her tea. "Yes, I've always found the duke to be a man sympathetic to good causes. I think he could be persuaded to introduce sensible laws." Mother glanced over the gold rim of her cup at the man in the straight chair.

One of the women said she would encourage her husband to back the duke.

Another spoke up that they would write a letter of support for such an idea.

"People are starving," a wrinkled woman said into a lull in the conversation. People eagerly mumbled their acknowledgment, as if this were an umbrella to run in under to escape the drenching silence. "1 see it every day. If we could just help some of those unfortunate people."

One of the other women puffed herself up like a chicken ready to lay an egg. "It's just terrible the way no one will give them a job, when there's plenty of work if it was just spread around."

"I know," Mother said with a tsk. "I've talked to Howard until I'm blue in the face. He just hires people who please him, rather than those needing the job the most. It's a disgrace."

The others sympathized with her burden.

"It isn't right that a few men should have so much more than they need, while so many people have so much less," the man with the droopy eyelids said. "It's immoral."

"Man has no right to exist for his own sake," Mother was quick to put in as she nibbled on a piece of dense cake while glancing again at the grimly silent man. "I tell Howard all the time that self-sacrifice in the service of others is man's highest moral duty and his only reason for being placed in this life.

"To that end," Mother announced, "I have decided to contribute five hundred gold crowns to our cause."

The other people gasped their delight, and congratulated Mother for her charitable nature. They agreed, as they sneaked peeks across the room, that the Creator would reward her in the next life, and talked about all they would be able to do to help those less fortunate souls.

Mother finally turned and regarded Nicci for a moment, and then said, "I believe my daughter is old enough to learn to help others."

Nicci sat forward on the edge of her chair, thrilled at the idea of at last putting her hand to what Mother and her friends said was noble work. It was as if the Creator Himself had offered her a path to salvation. "I would so like to do good, Mother."

Mother cast a questioning look at the man in the straight chair.

"Brother Narev?"

The deep creases of his face pleated to each side as the thin line of his mouth stretched in a smile. There was no joy in it, or in his dark eyes hooded beneath a brow of tangled white and black hairs. He wore a creased cap and heavy robes as dark as dried blood. Wisps of his wiry hair above his ears curled up around the edge of the cap that came halfway down on his forehead.

He stroked his jaw with the side of a finger as he spoke in a voice that almost rattled the teacups. "So, child, you wish to be a little soldier?"

"Well. . no, sir." Nicci didn't know what soldiering had to do with doing good. Mother always said that father pandered to men in an evil occupation-soldiers. She said soldiers only cared about killing. "I wish to help those in need."

"That is what we all try to do, child." His spooky smile remained fixed on his face as he spoke. "We here are all soldiers in the fellowship-the Fellowship of Order-as we call our little group. All soldiers fighting for justice."