Red Leaves and the Living Token - By Benjamin David Burrell Page 0,25

a young Botann woman with an 13 year old Zo boy in this morning service?” Handers asked.

“See? No. But we do keep records of our congregation. Why do you ask?”

Handers fidgeted with his shirt nervously. “My son is missing. I think that this woman...”

“I see.” The Cleric put down his papers. “Do you know her name?”

“Moslin Verdu and my son's name is Emret.”

The Cleric stared at him, his brow furrowed. “Moslin Verdu? You're sure?”

Handers explained, “She's my son's nurse. She invited me here earlier. I thought she might've brought my son.”

“Might I suggest we continue this conversation somewhere a little more private?” The Cleric gestured towards a door in a nearby corner of the chapel.

-

The Cleric pulled open a heavy wooden door and led Handers into a small room. A young Botann girl, a few years younger than Emret, sat in a chair by the corner window, reading.

“Sinesh, could you wait in the hall for just a moment?” The Cleric asked the girl.

The small room was surrounded with book shelves. In front of the shelves, as apparently there wasn’t enough shelving, the books were simply piled on the floor. A large desk took up almost the rest of the space left by the books. There were two chairs crammed up against each side of the desk.

Sinesh picked up her bag and the book she was reading and left.

“Thanks dear.”

Handers stood next to the open chair but didn’t sit down. He was still fascinated by the intensity of the clutter.

“I take it, you know Moslin.” He said without looking at the Cleric.

“Yes I do.” The Cleric answered as he squeezed around his large desk and sat in his formal chair. “She's my daughter.”

Handers stopped looking at the books in front of him and turned to the Cleric.

“Master Cleric Bedic Verdu,” Bedic extended a hand of greeting.

Handers shook it. “Your daughter? I had no idea she was the...”

Bedic let out a grunt sort of laugh. “If you had would that've changed the way you spoke to her last night?”

Handers stared at him. “Excuse me?”

“She came by my home last night, upset. We had a nice conversation about what happened.” Bedic explained.

“Listen, I like your daughter. She's been really kind to my son.” He noticed a large BOOK on a small waist high table next to a shelf. The cover of the book, partly covered in papers, appeared to be an illustration of something similar to the Token he recovered at the beach. He stepped towards the book.

“But at the same time she refuses to respect my wishes in some important areas regarding his care. As a parent, I can’t tolerate that.”

“Oh?” Bedic replied.

Handers slid the papers aside to reveal the full illustration on the cover of the book. It was an image of the Token he recovered on the beach. He was right! What would that be doing here? He wondered.

“She won't stop reading him a book that influences how he perceives his illness. Its deceptive and unfair. When he realizes it isn't true it's going to be incredibly destructive.”

Bedic got up and scooted over to the book that had attracted Hander's attention.

“So you asked her to stop reading him the book, and in retaliation, she kidnapped your son? Thats a pretty drastic reaction, don’t you think?”

“I didn't say she kidnapped him. I... I can't find either of them. The other nurses said she came here this morning.”

Bedic moved in to pick up the book, forcing Handers to back out of the way. Bedic continued to a nearby shelf and slid it into an empty spot.

“I sympathize with your situation. I can't imagine the panic you must feel, missing a child like this.” He stepped over to the door and opened it.

“I think in this case, your emotions are your enemy. You’re grabbing whole heartedly to the first possibility that comes to mind. I suggest you go back and collect as many hard facts as possible. When my daughter returns from where ever she went to blow off steam from your argument I'll have her contact you.” He stepped out the door. “If you'll excuse me, I need to attend to my granddaughter. You remember the way out?”

Handers let out a frustrated sigh and followed him to the door. He supposed the old man was right. Perhaps he’d been a little quick in making his conclusions. It was a little early to know what happened. But at this point he sure could use some help. If Moslin had nothing to do with