Chapter 32

“What’s in the scroll?” Zuri asked as they returned to the house.

“The scroll is a series of questions and answers about what to do if ingredients are poor, timings are off, and other various things that can go wrong when one needs a year to create a complete elixir,” the assistant guardian said.

“What does it mean as far as the abomination?”

“If the Master was alive, he would be able to instruct with more confidence,” the man said as he flexed his fingers as they dangled out of the casts. “My educated guess is they found a variant by accident when something went wrong in the process.”

“The abomination is an accident?” Zuri said. “An accident with unknown consequences until it was consumed.”

“Yes,” the man said.

“The scroll needs to be destroyed,” Zuri said firmly.

“There is too much valuable information in here,” the man protested. “You cannot destroy the scroll without losing unrecoverable experience.”

“Do you know which question provoked the Chancellor’s curiosity?” Zuri asked.

“No, he left no notations on the scroll.”

“We have no alternative,” Zuri said. “Our ancestors had to abandon and flee their home because of what is contained in that scroll. Even though two thousand years have passed, and new civilizations have arisen, the abomination in that scroll has been unleashed again. The scroll is to be destroyed.”

“Fine, I’ll do it in the morning,” the Assistant Guardian said.

Zuri shook his head. “The last Guardian from the homeland, the one who brought the scroll to this site said the same thing.” Zuri snatched the scroll from the table, rolling it up in his hands. “He was wrong, causing the death of hundreds thus far.”

Zuri walked to the door. “Tomorrow, get your new Master home to his family, even if you must push him in a wheelbarrow. The Gura must elect a new Patriarch tonight or tomorrow. Please be prepared to greet him. A new Journeyman Guardian must also be selected.”

“The Chancellor chose, and the Master approved or vetoed,” Barjardi said.

“If no candidate is obvious to the new Patriarch, you may need to choose,” Zuri said. He left for the shrine with the scroll in hand.

At the Patriarch’s house, Zuri marched into the kitchen, tossing the scroll into the fire under the stove before anyone could say a word to him. The ancient parchment caught fire immediately, burning to ash before anyone could comment.

“What was that?” a man asked who Zuri did not recognize.

“Trash,” Zuri said. “Has anyone from the city or the Royals come to the door?”

“Not that I know of,” the man said. “How did you get here? I didn’t see you come in?”

“Over the wall,” Zuri said with a shrug. “We have enough problems, and I did not want to be seen. Has Torrea returned?”

“He’s the bossy one with the brown beard? Yeah, he’s out front,” the Gura said.

Zuri left the kitchen without a word. He counted twenty heads in the front room of the house, one fool in the kitchen and the rest of the house was quiet. He kissed Ellabet on the cheek before making his way to Torrea. With a twist of his head, he silently indicated to Torrea to follow him. They walked out into the garden.

Zuri told him he had destroyed the source material. Afterwards, Torrea described his “tour” of the inns, taverns, and hostelries. Some had fled the city already, others were not moving from their rooms or were incapacitated in some manner, and the rest agreed to gather at a meeting point near the Seminary in the morning. The house was filled with Guras with ten to twenty years of experience. He could not locate older ones, most of whom had been sitting closer to the podium as far as anyone could recollect. He did not find a single Gura-sho.

“Did the Guardians find anything to help us?” Torrea asked.

“No,” Zuri said, heaving a sigh. “They are highly specialized and limited. I learned that asking them for solutions is like asking a washerwoman for the next ladies’ fashion at court. I can also report that Abans took all the prepared elixir; there is nothing left.”

Torrea sighed as well and asked what the plan was.

“You elect a new leader tonight,” Zuri said. “Get everyone into the Seminary tomorrow and secure the grounds. Are the younger seminarians still there? Is anyone in Chancellor’s Residence?”

“Good questions. Are you going to offer yourself for the position?” Torrea asked.

“I’m no longer Gura and I will not return to the ranks,” Zuri said. “If you want me to speak on your behalf, I will. No one else stood with me when I faced the miasma except for you. Most fled and none stuck around after we got the doors barred. By the measure of courage, no one else rises to meet the bar.”

“High praise coming from you,” Torrea said. “Since you’re not of us, would you call this gathering together and direct us to get down to business.”

“Let me fetch my staff out of the shed,” Zuri said. “Just in case I need to bludgeon some sense into one of them.”

Torrea chuckled and went back inside. Zuri followed him soon after and as discussed, called the gathering of Guras together. He recognized none of the faces, which made him feel a bit more at ease. He explained the situation inside the Great Hall. Asking if anyone had seen any of the ranking Guras since the abomination, none had. Many had seen the Patriarch and the Secretary morph into bubbling ooze and testified to the fact. Zuri had to shut them up because he did not need to hear the same thing ten times.

“You need a new leader,” Zuri said. “You can call him The Patriarch or call him the leader-in-waiting, but you need a leader now.”

“What’s the rush?” a man with peppered grey hair asked.

“The Royal Guard is coming, and they’ll want answers,” Zuri said. “They can throw the lot of you in the dungeon if you don’t have a leader to stand behind.” The man acknowledged that the reasoning was on target.

“Any volunteers?” Zuri asked, “I hear the appointment comes with a nice house.” They laughed but no one volunteered. Each looked around the room, waiting for someone to step forward.

“If no one will stand forth, then I will,” Torrea said, coming to stand next to Zuri.

The mumbling began immediately. Zuri tapped his staff on the tile to get their attention. “This is the man that took down Provost Abans. With only a knife and dagger, he struck Abans in the cheek, leading Abans to succumb to the miasma. He also fought the last thugs in the foyer before the doors were secured with the miasma inside. The rest of you had already fled.”

One of the oldest men in the room cleared his throat, “Do we take a vote?” As one they all raised their hands and said “Aye.”

“It’s unanimous,” Zuri said to Torrea. “Congratulations, I think.”

Torrea took control of the meeting while Zuri retreated to the kitchen. One of the women scooped him out a bowl of pea porridge and handed him a spoon. He retreated to a small table in the corner that overlooked the garden to eat. Ellabet joined him as he began to poke at his bowl.