A Season for Every Purpose

for Every Purpose

  By Margaret Gregory

  The tall red headed man, dressed in a brown full length cape, stood in the open plaza. The roiling energy of the approaching storm mirrored the turmoil in his soul. He felt lost; adrift like a rudderless ship.

  In the ten years since the reawakening, there seemed no place for a Great One. The war was over, the enemies sent away, or vanquished. The malicious damage they had done to the planet was reversed.

  The people and animals had woken and emerged from the protected places, and returned to where their homes had been, and rebuilt.

  Before then, when the planet was still a desolate, polluted wasteland, he and his sibs had purpose. They were three minds, combined as an entity of pure energy, wielding the power of the whole planet. They had removed the poisons, and restored the water, land and air to life.

  His siblings, Tymos and Kryslie, were also Great Ones but they had found another role to play – back on Earth where they had been born and where the Elders had foreseen a need for them.

  He, Llaimos, was stuck on Tymorea, and his sibs had ceded their status as heir designates to him. One day he would succeed his father as High King Governor, but he did not feel ready for that.

  For a time, he had travelled with his father to reassure the common people that they had not been forgotten. Then, his presence had reassured the more nervous citizens, and given them direction.

  Now the rebuilding was over and memories of the terrible war were fading. Life was almost back to normal.

  The trouble was, he had virtually no idea of ‘normal’ life.

  The ruling Triumvirate Governors, his father Tymoros, President JonoReslic and the Science and Education controller, Xyron, did not deign to give him directions. He out-ranked them now; he was God-touched…

  He was bored.

  Ten years ago, his sibs had neatly summed up his problem. He was a grown man who had not experienced childhood or adolescence. He had knowledge and skills, but he hadn’t learnt them.

  In that moment, in the Temple of Dira, when the Guardians of Peace had matured him from child to man, the knowledge of generations of Governors had come to him. So too had come mastery of physical skills.

  What he needed was a purpose. A task that only he could do.

  The first fat, heavy drops of rain began to fall as a deafening crack of thunder shook the ground. Lightning began to flash from cloud to cloud and in jagged forks to the ground. The wind gusted with staggering force, bending the surrounding trees and snapping branches.

  Llaimos looked up to the flashing sky and hoped to hear the voices of the Guardians. He raised both arms, oblivious to rain dripping down his wrists and into his sleeves and the rain bombarding his face. In his mind he thought to them, “How can I serve you now?”

  All he heard was the rain pelting the permacrete flagstones covering the ground. He lowered his arms, and let the precious water soak his hair and drip down his neck.

  From nearby, even with the roar of the wind, he was aware of the scuffling of the silent ring of guards and sighed inwardly. It wasn’t fair to them, staying out, now the rain had started. He could tell them to go, and they would, but only a short distance. They had their duty to perform and their commander to obey. They were to protect the High King’s heir designate. It was a complication that he was also a Great One.

  With another sigh, he turned to walk towards the covered arcade between the now closed shops. He had come to the City of Dira, intending to continue to the Temple to meditate with the Elders during the Season of Storms. He had reached the open plaza and realised that the prospect of meditation was less than appealing.

  His ears heard, beyond the sound of the heavy rain on the permacrete – a frantic voice calling a name. The voice grew louder and Llaimos sensed the seeker, although visibility was merely a few feet.

  Someone bumped into him. A woman dressed in a home-crafted leather tunic.

  The voice calling, “Jorge” changed to a yelp of fear as the guards grabbed the person so presumptuous as to touch him.

  “Release her,” Llaimos directed, in the exact tone that his father would have used.

  To the young woman he asked, “What brings you out in this storm?

  Lightning flashed and he saw her mouth drop open, and then quickly snap shut. She recognised him.

  He expected the same inane drivel that all the girls used when they met him.

  “Prince Llaimos?”

  Another flash of lightning illuminated her. She had the light brown hair characteristic of commoners. However, only one young woman had ever called him Prince. Once the Governors had returned – he had been given a new title.

  “Tarri?” he asked in amazement.

  “I…didn’t expect you to remember me,” she admitted.

  Llaimos sensed her embarrassment, though it warred with her immediate worry.

  “You were calling for someone,” Llaimos prompted gently.

  “Yes, one of my students. Jorge. He is thirteen, and I guess you know what boys that age are like – into everything, interested in everything.”

  Llaimos realised with a pang that he didn’t know. He had never been thirteen.

  However, he knew exactly what his father would do.

  “Guardsman , assign half your squad to search for the boy. If he has sense, he will be cowering out of the rain.”

  The irony of his statement was not lost on him. Amusement intruded. He was a Great One, no one was going to question his choices or call him crazy for standing in the rain.

  He directed Tarri back to the shelter of the roof overhanging the door of a shop.

  “Wait here, let the guards search.”

  “No, he is my responsibility.”

  One of the remaining guards drew in a breath, “Lady, you are talking to a Great One, you don’t…”

  “Sedric, if it was your child that was missing would you want me to tell you not to look for him?”

  “No, Great One, but…”

  “Then help us look,” Llaimos suggested mildly.

  When Tarri would have returned into the torrential rain, Llaimos held her arm and said quietly, “Wait a moment.”

  He let his mind search around for a trace of the boy’s thoughts. He heard and put aside the thoughts of wet and cold from his guards, for they were stoically doing their duty. Finally he found one that was cold, wet, hungry and lost. He directed a guard to the place he sensed the boy to be.

  After Jorge was asleep, impressed into obedience by the concern and advice of a Great One, and back with his fellow students, Llaimos and Tarri were alone – except for the ever-present guards.

  “So you took my sister’s advice and went to the city to learn,” Llaimos remarked into a sudden silence that was punctuated with thunder.

  “Yes, though my mother wants me marry and give her more grandchildren,” Tarri admitted.

  Llaimos could empathise with her. He knew the Elders all believed he should marry and begin producing heirs to ensure continuation of his line. Only his being a Great One silenced their advice.

  The thought of the necessary process was…discomforting. He wasn’t ready.

  He realised then that he no longer seemed to feel the storm within him, or the impatience, the boredom, the lack of direction.

  Here was a woman who would talk to him as an equal. Was intelligent, capable, and doing work that mattered to her. He didn’t find it strange that she didn’t just want to be a mother and stay at home.

  As he talked, and learnt more about what was important to her, he realised that she was like him in believing there was more to life than what she had known growing up. She was doing something more – bringing higher education to children in the smaller t
owns and villages, to bright intelligent youngsters who might otherwise be stifled in a life of farming or herding or mining.

  Something inside him relaxed. For the first time that he could recall – he felt at peace.

  He realised with a shock, equal to a clap of thunder, that he had been talking to this woman for hours, when he usually felt the urge to flee when girls were presented to him.

  It was as his father had said – “There is a season and a time for every purpose”.

  “Tarri, I know this is sudden, but would you consider being my consort? Would you let me help you with your work?”

  “But…you’re a Great One…”

  “There isn’t much call for a Great One these days.”

  “You are your father’s heir…”

  “Who knows all he does and I hope he lives for decades more.”

  “I’d have to live in the palace…”

  “Why would that be a problem?”

  “Because all the men think I am not doing a woman’s job.”

  “My father would tell you it is important work.”

  “No man has wanted to marry me because…”

  “You are better than they are. And you are wrong about the palace…there are many strong willed women doing worthwhile jobs there. Or do you think my sister was some kind of court decoration?”

  Tarri recalled meeting his sister and had to agree – she had a mind of her own.

  Instead, she glanced at the guards.

  Llaimos had long ago learnt to ignore them.

  “We don’t have to live at the palace and I can tell President Governor Reslic to instruct the guards to vanish. That is an advantage of my fancy title. I just hadn’t seen a reason to make an issue of things until now.”

  Tarri considered his question for a long while before answering.

  “Yes,” she said finally. “You are like no other man I have met. I will be your consort. But I don’t want to have babies right away.”

  It came out like a challenge, but Llaimos smiled with relief.

  “Not until we are ready – when the season is right,” he agreed.

  A brilliant flash of lightning lit the garden outside and lingered perceptibly. Llaimos felt a brush of the Guardians, like a gentle breeze ruffling his hair and a hint of tinkling voices. Perhaps they had sent little Jorge to show him what had been there all along. To open his eyes to the gift they had kept for him. He sent them his thanks.