The Play Rite. Chapter four

The moment she stepped out of the room, all eyes were on her; ecven the man’s. Lance. Viviane had called him Lance. Josefine realized then that Viviane looked angry. She’d expected that, but under that anger seemed to be relief; another new emotion from Viviane. Viviane stood up. Her eyes were red. She grabbed Josefine’s hand and spoke to her softly,’ Get the waking roots from the cellar, make some tea, and then help me get him onto the bed. Do not repeat anything that he says or that you hear. It is very important for this man to survive. Do you understand?’ ‘Yes.’ She wondered what kind of relationship Viviane had with this man. He was handsome and fairly young. His head was shaved and she noticed a strange marking on the middle of his head, in the back. It looked like the faces of the moon, all lined up together as if to create an infinity sign. Strange. She had never seen a sign like it. Everyone had a sign. They were all born with them. There was a sign for the mountain people, the valley people, the swamp people, the forest people, the dessert people, and the people of the lakes. Her sign did not look like any of their signs, but she had never been told why.

The man’s eyes opened while Josefine was renewing the wet rag on his forehead. She gasped. His eyes were light gray, nearly white. His eyes widened and he grabbed her hand. His words were forced, as if he did not have enough breath, but was desperate to speak,’ Archibald.’ A tear rolled down his cheek,’ Where have you been? I waited for you, but you never came. Your daughter… your daughter misses you. She needs you, Archibald. Josie needs you.’ His eyes were clouded. He wasn’t in the present. When she was younger, everyone had called her Josie. But he couldn’t have been talking about her, could he? Was Archibald her father? Oh, how she wished she could ask him these questions.