Jesse James and the Dragon's Egg

The Presidential Suite

The senatorial proceedings continued to fall apart around Jag and Marcus.

While some senators broke away from the disintegrating proceedings, many others were too embroiled in their positions to leave. Arguments raged in every direction as men and women went toe to toe, swinging their ideas and convictions like bludgeons.

"You've struck a note here, my friend," Marcus said, grinning and regarding his friend like a proud father. "A note that will not soon be muted."

Quickly lost in the rabble, the two men worked their way through the crowd, slipping quietly out the back.

~

"But, Mr. President," the man speaking was large by any standards. Dressed all in black, he towered inside the door to the presidential apartment, staring down at Jag. Jag stood in the doorway to the apartment, staring up at the man, flanked by two no less violent looking, no less friendly, men.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, man!" The president with the shock of black hair stood in his salon. Casually dressed, he was far more relaxed now than earlier. "He is my son. If we can't trust family in these times, who can we trust?"

The black garbed man stood his ground, still looking Jag up and down.

"Leave us." The president said with a wave of his hand.

The men didn't flinch. He and Jag were locked on one another, standing almost nose to nose.

"Leave us." The president said, allowing a single note of aggravation to float out with his command.

The man complied. It was begrudging and his every move spoke of his objection, but he complied.

"My son!" the president said, embracing Jag. "Praise Shiva, you are alive! How are Inarra and the boys?"

"They are well, father. Inarra has taken them to Wind Haven." Jag released himself from the embrace and smiled warmly. "Khalil is with me. He sends his love." Jag's father took a breath to speak, but his son quickly cut him off. "Father, there is someone I would like you to meet."

Without giving his father a chance to reply, he opened the door to the apartment.

"Father, this is Jesse James."

Jesse stood in the doorway, awkward and terribly uncomfortable.

The older man's face was a mask of confusion. Speech eluded the statesman as he looked from his son to the boy and back. His mouth opened and closed quickly, biting off the heads of statements and questions as they came.

"Young Mr. James." He finally said. A warm smile automatically painting itself across his face as he extended both his hands to the boy. "It is a pleasure to meet you at last, young man." He squeezed Jesse's hand tightly. "A true pleasure."

"Jesse," Jag put his hand on the boy's shoulder., "this is my father, President Nityo Chattopadhyay. He is co-president of the Council of the Seven Republics."

"Uh, pleasure to meet you, sir." Jesse stammered, trying desperately to remember his manners.

"Oh, where are my manners?" The president quickly regained his composure. "Please, come in and have a seat. You must be exhausted." He ushered Jesse into a fire-lit living room, flashing Jag a distinctly unkind look. "I understand you have been through quite an ordeal."

The three took a seat on a large sofa directly in front of the glowing hearth. Jesse could feel the heat from the blaze as he was offered tea and spicy meat pastries.

They had conversation then. With a little prompting, Jesse gave Jag's father the story of his last few weeks. Jag's father listened intently, smiling and nodding at all the appropriate moments. Presently, Jesse had given everything he could. He sat back into the couch and sipped on the warm sweetened tea.

"So, you have found the Siriti. And the beast is with you now?" He asked, sending a sharp glance at his son, "Here, in Mattu Khan?"

"Yes, Sir. He's in my room. But don't worry, he won't be any trouble. He won't leave the room unless I tell him to. He's really well trained."

The older man smiled warmly at the boy and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm sure he is, my son." He flashed another unkind glance at his own son and this time Jag turned away. This brought a grim determination to the man's features.

"Jesse," the man took another deep breath. "Jesse you must understand that this, you being here, in Mattu Khan, puts me in a very difficult position. Do you understand why?"

"Is it because of Al?" Jesse spoke around a mouthful of cake.

"I suppose, after a fashion, yes. You see, my boy, some of us here, in the senate, hold certain beliefs, certain traditions about this beast. And about you as well."

"About me?"

"Ah." the man said, his face darkening. "Yes."

He turned to stoke the fire. "I would have hoped that your mother..." He spoke almost to himself. There was a brief, uncomfortable moment when no one spoke.

"No matter." The man turned quickly enough to startle Jesse. He was smiling broadly at the boy. "For tonight, my young friend, and the next few days, you and your friends are my guests! Eat, sleep, rest, and have fun. Enjoy yourselves here, Jesse, and we will get things sorted out for you."

"I was wondering, sir," Jesse said, "when I'm going to be able to see my mom."

"Of course. Of course you are, Jesse, and that is one of the things we are going to sort out for you, my boy. Just some minor details to hash out first. You know, bureaucratic nonsense and such." The man said warmly. "I'm sure she must miss you dearly, but we will let her know that you are in good, safe hands and with any luck, we'll have you back to her in no time."

The president rose and escorted Jesse to the door. They exchanged pleasantries and the elder statesman, full of warmth and congeniality, sent the boy on his way with a pat on the back and small sack full of treats.

President Chattopadhyay watched the boy walk down the hall. He watched until Jesse turned and disappeared around a corner with his escort, then he slowly closed the door. He stood there for a moment, staring at the door. First President Nityo Chattopadhyay, co-president of The Seven Republics, husband, father of three and grandfather to eight lovely grandchildren, realized that he suddenly felt very old. Very, very old.

Eventually, he turned and walked back to the hearth. The man seemed to age with each step. He stood by the fire and watched as the flame mercilessly consumed the kindling, and he felt profoundly sad.

"I'll have a guard detail assigned to them while they are here." The man turned slowly from the fire and gazed at his son. "What have you done?"