Chapter 3

"Let us pray."

Felek closed his eyes as Brother Ofim began the prayer. He rarely actually prayed when asked to like this. Truth be told, what you were supposed to do while the Monk droned on wasn't exactly clear. Should Felek focus on his words? Mentally repeat them? He didn't know.

So, Felek let his mind wander.

He liked Mass. Liked the sense of oneness before God. The sense of one congregation basking under the love of Jesus. He also liked the new, shorter sermons. His Grace's influence, no doubt. Felek had heard the King talk with the various Brothers regarding services. There were more, now, allowing more of those in the small lakeside city to attend. Most went, although it was by no means compulsory. To fit those extra sermons in, they had to be shortened. Felek kind of suspected that was His Grace's whole goal. He also thought those services not attended by the King were longer, but that was just a feeling he had from the few times he had gone to one of those. It wasn't like you could keep track of time while sitting there.

Ruta's image floated before his closed eyes. She had worn his necklace that Sunday morning, replacing the silver cross which usually hung between her breasts. It was almost like wearing his ring. They were ... promised to each other, now. She was his, he was hers. Yes, they had been friends since forever, together every day, yet ... yet, he felt like singing. Like standing up before the Kingdom, before God and Jesus, telling all of their love.

Well, wasn't that what a wedding was?

When would be the question. They were old enough, yes. Felek did not yet have an official position with the Palace beyond servant to the King, but James would assign him something. His Grace had certainly been grooming him for some position, tutors and scholars pounding knowledge into the boy's head. He would serve the Kingdom, buy some home, move in with Ruta...

"In the name of the Father, the Mother, and the Son. Amen."

Felek raised his head. He had managed to ignore the entire prayer. That was talent.

"Mother asked me to ask you if you would join our family for dinner."

Felek could not help but chuckle as he and Ruta walked among the throng exiting the cathedral. That the woman had not made the request in person did not surprise him. Felek had been near His Grace, for one. While Ruta's mother fawned over the King in ways both amusing and irritating, there obviously was not much love between the two. Hell, she did not like Felek much, either. Only his position as brother to the Queen made him an acceptable match for her daughter. Which was fine with him. His years with the King had taught him much about diplomacy, so handling a grumpy in-law should not be too much of a problem. It wasn't like she would be living with them.

He'd see to that.

"Sure. Unless His Grace suddenly needs me, I don't see why not."

"Good." She took his arm as they reached the bottom steps. "Does he need you now?"

"No." His eyes flicked to his left. His Grace and his sister had stopped, talking with Commander Kosciuszko and his wife. "No, I'm free today."

"Felek!"

The cry came from off to the side, away from the milling worshipers. Issa stood in the grass beside a pine tree near the edge of the church grounds, right arm raised. Ruta squeezed his arm.

"He wasn't in church, was he?" Her voice was skeptical. Felek chuckled.

"Doubt it." He raised his own arm in reply, steering the two of them off the path towards their friend. "This may mean," he added, "that I will be needed. If Issa is here, Chief Ajani probably is as well."

"Felek, my friend!" The Kikker teen grabbed both his arms, squeezing tight. "And Ruta!" Releasing Felek, he took the girl's right hand, lifting it to his mouth. His large tongue flicked out, lightly touching her fingers. Giggling, Ruta curtsied.

"And a pleasant Sunday to you, too, Issa."

"Come to convert?" Felek asked. "You missed mass, but I'm sure Brother Ofim has a few minutes to spare if you'd like to be baptized."

It was a joke, of course. Converting others was not something that was done. Never had been. At first, because the beastly races surrounding the Poles were not fit to mingle with, let alone serve the Lord God. As ties had grown closer between those Kikker living near the Poles, however, His Grace had gone the extra step of forbidding it. Something about a bad history of such practices. As Felek watched his friend, he was startled to see embarrassment at his words. Issa bowed his head, hands clenched together by his waist. Felek reached out, clasping his shoulder.

"Hey. What is it?"

"Felek. Ruta. Does the Polish God Jesus ... heal?"

The two teens looked at each other. Ruta placed her hand on the Kikker's other shoulder.

"In the stories, yes. Jesus healed the sick in his time among us."

"So..." Issa licked his large lips, eyes raising to look between the two humans. "If I prayed to this Jesus, joined his temple, would he heal someone?"

"Who?" Ruta asked.

"Adanya's young." Issa looked down at the ground again. "Word from her arrived by ship yesterday. Her son is sick again. He will not live. Chief Ajani cried all night." His gaze again met theirs. "If betraying the spirits of our people will save the boy and girl, I will gladly follow your Gods. Just tell me how."

"Oh, Issa!" Ruta stepped forward, wrapping her slender arms around the splotchy brown teen. Felek just shook his head.

"It ... I'm sorry, Issa. It doesn't really work like that."

"It doesn't?" His yellow eyes blinked. "You said your God healed."

"In the stories, yes," Ruta said, pulling back a bit. "And we pray for God and Mother Mary and Jesus to heal those in need. But ... praying does not make it happen. God does not work that way."

"But..." Felek saw tears pool in the corner of his friend's eyes. "There is no other help for them! No medicine, no magic. Your Gods are their only hope!"

Felek caught Ruta's gaze. She looked devastated. He felt like shit himself. Jesus did not work like that, yet ... why didn't he? Why wouldn't Jesus come down and heal the sick, as he had done in the holy books? He had met Bogdi's children countless times. Played with them. Word of each death had hurt him in ways he could not express.

Ruta's hand suddenly caught his, her other taking Issa's. She backed up, pulling them.

"Come on. Let's try."

Ruta led them around the side of the cathedral, down one of the irregular stone paths. Felek knew where she was taking Issa. He should have thought of it himself. The trio walked among the flower beds and fruit trees, the two males flanking the blonde. Felek could still hear the murmur of people from the front steps, but slowly it faded. The sound of wind in the trees, of birds, replaced it. The sounds of ... well, God.

The statue was carved from wood, set on a flat rock in the center of a small pool. Bright paint, freshly applied that spring, almost seemed to shine in the noon sun. Ruta brought them to a stop.

"This is Mary," she told Issa. "Through her, God created his only Son. After Jesus died for our sins, Mary was carried up into heaven to sit beside Father and Son. I often pray to her."

"She looks ... sad."

Felek looked closer at the statue, trying to see her as Issa did. It was the eyes. There was something about those blue and white eyes which spoke of sorrow. Of loss. Ruta took a half step towards the pool.

"She saw her son tortured. Nailed to a cross and left to die. You'd be sad, too." Turning to Issa, she took his hand again. "Kneel down."

Ruta knelt down on the smooth stone, gently pulling Issa. Awkwardly, he got down beside her, knees not quite built for that position. Felek knelt on the other side of her, letting his Love take the lead. She was more religious than he, more ... spiritual. Perhaps even more loving, because of it. Certainly, it was part of what made him love her. Looking up into the face of the Mother of the Messiah, Ruta spoke.

"Oh, Lady Mary, most holy of all women. Our friend comes to you in his hour of need. Not his need, for he is not selfish, or self-centered. Issa comes because the children of our friends are sick. Are dying. Lady Mary, please help them. Help little James and Zuza get well. Help them to grow up healthy, and strong. We beg you. In the name of the Father, The Mother, and The Son, Amen."

Felek crossed himself, hands making the motion over his chest without his mind even aware of the action. He saw Issa make the same gestures. Closing his eyes, Felek sent his own prayer up to the heavens.

"God, please help them. Amen."

There was a knock at the door.

Felek sat up in his bed. He had not yet been asleep. Hell, he had not even gotten around to his evening rubbing of his cock, without which a good sleep was never even really possible. The knock was not one of emergency. The door would have immediately opened, the Kingdom's problems much more important than privacy or politeness.

Another knock. A bit louder, yet seemingly still soft enough not to get the attention of others. Interesting. Tossing off the light sheet, not bothering with a light, Felek bent down to grab his pants from their home on the floor. He stood, pulling them up, working the buttons as he started towards the door. He grabbed the handle just as a third knock started.

Ruta's face appeared as he pulled the door open. Startled, he opened it wider. She stood in the hall dressed in just a light nightgown, body tantalizingly visible as the dim lamp behind her shone through the fabric. Her eyes were wide, hair mussed as if she, too, had been in bed. The bird necklace still hung between her breasts.