Eben crouched at the altar, eyes closed, choosing the words for his midday worship carefully. He wished for many things but none more so than patience. So close. His rebirth was so close. Soon he would have a purpose. Soon he would have a family.

Lord Silver, he began, who shows us the way in darkness. Guide me as I walk this path. I know not what to expect. I know not what to fear. But if you let me, through your wisdom I will see. Eben touched two fingers to his forehead, moving them to his left shoulder, then his right, and finally back to his brow at which point he bowed his head. May you wax and never wane so forever I may serve.

As was often the case after prayer, Eben felt his worries drift away like a great hand had plucked them from his back. The weight gone, he opened his eyes and rose easily, smoothing his white prentice robe as he did.

Time for a snack.

Imagining sweet spice cake moist in his mouth made Eben smile as he gazed up and up. The temple’s statue of Silver was enormous, nearly one hundred hands tall, which made the worshippers who scrambled below it seem little more than pious ants. The sculpture’s flesh had been carved using white and black marble to mimic the contrasting pigment found in the inhabitants of the nation of Neden. Eben’s own skin was a nutty brown, making his Desidran heritage obvious well before people noticed his six-fingered hands. Despite this, he didn’t doubt for one moment that he belonged right where he was, or that he was a true son of Neden. After all, was not Silver’s credo to collect the best of all things, bringing them together as one great treasure? What’s more, Eben knew Silver better than most of the people that prayed to the Lord of Night. So many cowered beneath the statue’s seemingly harsh visage, but to see it true, one just had to look carefully. Eben tilted his head and squinted a bit and there it was. Right at the end of Silver’s mouth.

He’s grinning. Clean as can be.

Eben barked a laugh, which startled a pair of kneeling farmers and earned him a reproachful look from a nearby monk. Eben merely gave a toothy grin, before leaning down to rub the massive left foot for luck. His devotion complete, Eben did an about-face. A limestone path spread out before him, cutting through a large open area in the temple that worshippers could use to gather and talk. Flanking that open space were massive pillars of stone, which soared to the lofty heights of the vaulted ceiling. Around the top of each spire circled a patchwork of stained glass and it was through these colored windows that light sprayed into the body of the cathedral.

His head held high, Eben marched down the walkway, bathed in the rainbow of warmth. It was all he could do to stop himself from running out of the building. He could feel it in his chest, the excitement building about to explode. While this magnificent temple would always be his home, in truth, it was a wretched boring place with little more to do than watch mold grow. But now, in just three day’s time, he would be standing in the capital itself, celebrating the Festival of Birth. And, and it was all for him! Eben furrowed his brow. Well, not just for him, of course. There would be other chosen, too. At least four or five, and maybe even more. By Silver, he couldn’t wait to meet them all. To meet someone else that shared the mark. To meet his brothers and sisters!

The joy of it all coursed through him, and he whooped again, uncontrollably. This brought a flurry of hushing sounds and angry gazes from multiple patrons in the sanctuary proper. One of the grey-robed clergy even went so far as to march over and grab Eben by the wrist. Forcefully, he was yanked from the temple and out into one of the side cemeteries. When the two were alone among the headstones the monk began to sign furiously. Eben smiled sheepishly at the chastisement of the old man.

“I know, Donan, I know.” Eben started laughing. “But isn’t it all so wonderful? Isn’t it?”

Donan looked down at Eben and shook his head, then walked over to the temple wall and removed a small chisel, a horsehair brush, and a cloth from a narrow shelf set under a low eave. The monk stomped back, dumping the tools into Eben’s hands. Donan’s gaze was stern as he flashed a few clipped words with gnarled fingers and then moved to leave.

“Donan--?” a confused Eben began, but the man slammed the door shut. Eben stood alone in the cemetery as if slapped. Slowly he looked at the cleaning tools and recoiled, dropping them to the ground. This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair at all. Eben felt his cheeks flush. He didn’t want to scrape the grave markers of bird droppings and polish them. He wanted to go to Yarra’s. He had finished all of his regular chores early, every last one of them, just so he could go. True, he hadn’t asked yet, but of course they would say yes. So why was he stuck out here? He hadn’t done anything. He was just happy. Couldn’t he be happy? Was that not allowed?

A challenging chirp from above distracted him from the unfairness of it all. Eben looked up to see a blue jay staring down at him from the branch of a nearby tree. The large bird cocked its head and chirped some more.

“What do you want, featherbrains?” huffed Eben grumpily.

The bird kept at it, chirping as it hopped back and forth on the branch.

“Oh, shut up,” Eben mumbled. “It’s not like I want to be here. Plus, this is half your fault anyway.”

But the jay wasn’t so easily cowed, his chirps soon turning into squawks of righteous indignation. Apparently, someone had forgotten to tell Eben that the cemetery had changed ownership, and this bird was might miffed about it.

“I said, shut up!” Eben grabbed a stone and launched it at the tree. His aim was off and the rock only hit a branch, sending leaves cascading to the ground. It was enough to frighten the blue jay though, who quickly winged away, flying effortlessly over the high wall that surrounded the cemetery.

Eben sighed, watching the bird go. “Wish I could do that.” He stood there for a moment, staring at the sky and feeling sorry for himself.

That’s when it hit him. Why not? Tomorrow they left for the capital since it was a two-day journey from Holice to Ceres by cart. If he got in trouble now, what was the worst that could happen? One night of peeling radishes or scrubbing pots would well be worth the trip, and it wasn’t like he was going to have another chance. They would be departing before the sun was up and there was no way they’d let him go anywhere then.

Eben looked around the enclosure. Donan had taken him to the west cemetery, so there was only the door they had entered from leading back into the church and no windows to give those who wished to spend time at the graves privacy. Eben started giggling to himself. Things couldn’t be better. Donan had told him to work until the evening meal bell tolled, so none of the monks were likely to check on him anytime soon and any visitors wouldn’t care if he was there or not. Eben glanced at the sun. He had three, maybe four hours until the bell rang. Plenty of time to get to Yarra’s and enjoy the cakes before the monks noticed that anything was amiss.

His mind made up, Eben began to ponder his escape route. He couldn’t go back through the temple, that much was clear. Even if he didn’t bump into Donan, too many of the other monks had seen the old man take him out this way and they could easily put fishes and fins together. Eben turned to the wall. It had two faces, making a triangle when connected to the building. There was no gate, as visitors were required to leave a tribute in the main sanctuary before seeing their buried kin. The wall itself was made of well-fitted stone and stood at least ten feet tall. Eben hummed, drumming fingers on his chin.

“Where to climb…” he said to himself. Problem was, there really wasn’t anywhere. No handholds and both faces were a uniform height. He could try digging out, but that wouldn’t work. Even if the wall didn’t run as deep as he expected, it would just take too long. No doubt about it. It would have to be the tree. He grimaced, looking at the leafy expanse that grew near the left side of the wall, topping it almost twice over. Eben wasn’t fond of trees. Nice for shade and all, but only a fool tried hopping around in one like a crazy squirrel. He absently brought a hand to the back of his head, rubbing the spot where he had split the skin two years back after slipping from a treacherous branch. Eben reminded himself that this was an oak though, with much stronger limbs than the fir he had fallen from in the north gardens. He would be fine. Eben scuffed the dirt with a toe. Just fine. That’s when his stomach spoke up, rumbling a reminder of why they needed to get to Yarra’s.

“You’re right,” Eben said to his tummy. “I know you’re right.” How could he leave without tasting her deliciously spiced creations one more time? He couldn’t. He just couldn’t.

Stifling his fear of vindictive plants, Eben took a few calming breaths and then launched himself at the tree. His stubby legs pedaled, feet digging into the cemetery soil, and he leapt. Eben grabbed a low hanging branch and, using his momentum, managed to pull himself up onto it. He was pleased with his initial success and gave himself a moment to savor it until the tree limb swayed, making his insides lurch. Fast as he could, he scrambled toward the trunk wrapping his arms around its sizable width when he reached it.

A bit more secure, Eben pondered the nearby branches. Thick leaves stopped him from plotting his whole course, but he knew enough to get started, keeping one hand on the trunk to maintain his balance while reaching out with the other to grab the nearest branch. Once done, he quickly shifted his trunk hand to the new limb and heaved himself onto it, before he could second-guess himself. This process worked for a while, but then he reached a point where the trunk itself split: one half stretching south, leading back to the temple, and the other angling north, toward his salvation. With a gulp, he scrambled up the second, refusing to let himself look down, though the ground felt like a loadstone pulling at his eyeballs.

When he was high enough to be a bit above the top of the wall, he picked what looked to be the strongest of the limbs and crawled belly first onto it, hoping that with his added weight it would bend to the exact height he needed. The going was slow, as he inched along like a caterpillar, but he was okay with that. He’d much rather move slowly forward than quickly down. Dropping off the other side of the wall, even from a hanging position, would be enough of a thrill, thank you very much.

Eben had made it about halfway out, when he heard an ominous chirp, snapping his head to the side.

“Sweet Saint Lentis,” Eben said.

Brother Jay was back. There was a moment of stillness between them, filled with only the fresh smell of wind and the rustle of leaves. Then the bird exploded. It squawked, it screeched, it screamed, dancing around on a branch parallel to Eben’s.

“Shut up!” Eben hissed, swinging out with his hand, trying to scare the bird away again. The jay was too far though and the attack only seemed to make it louder. Gritting his teeth in frustration, Eben pushed himself into a sitting position, so he could move easier and get rid of the pest. At least that’s what he intended to do, but the sleeve of his robe caught on the underside of the branch and when he tried to move his left arm, the tree yanked back. Before Eben even knew what was happening, he lost his balance and slid off of the limb. His right arm flailed, as the world tilted alarmingly, and without thinking his legs locked the tree in a death grip, feet twisting together. The stub that had caught his sleeve scraped his belly as Eben fell over it, but luckily his legs didn’t budge. If they had, the only place he’d be going soon was into the Lady’s embrace.

Not that things were looking very promising for Eben. Though the limb had let go of his sleeve during the fall, he was now hanging upside down, with an uncomfortably large distance separating himself from the ground. Grunting, he tried pulling himself up, and after a few failed attempts, he was able to reach the branch with his fingers.

Then, he just hung there. He wasn’t out of energy, far from it--his heart was pounding like he had been chasing rabbits. He just didn’t know what to do, since he was stretched too far to have any hope of getting back on top of the branch. This realization was accompanied by a burning in his legs, arms, and fingers. He couldn’t keep this up forever.

To make matters worse, the blue jay had hopped down a branch and was chirping at him again. It wasn’t exactly laughter, but he got the picture.

“Oh, stuff it.”

He’d just have to yell for help. No matter how humiliating it was going to be, it was better than the alternative. Eben looked around his shoulder and could see the door to the church. In fact, surprisingly, he could see it opening. Donan appeared and was halfway through signing an apologetic greeting when he saw Eben dangling from a tree limb. His fingers froze, as his eyes went wide and then formed to slits.

Eben smiled sheepishly. “Dinnertime already?”