Chapter, the first, having no other title
It is a simple story and if it will not do, you and I will invent another hundred or two. In the beginning, long after the end, when the world will be without form, the word will shape the world as it always has in ways not known; man will not know what he knows not, nor woman, neither. A tale will be born of idylls past and present, lost and found in time. Knowledge will be a thing of the past and knowledge of the past a wispy dream shaken off in a dusky dawn like the obscure opening lines of a book not yet written when you have skipped to the end, but once upon a time.
After The Time of Tribulations when some choose to till the land and some to steal the fruit and others tell their stories, Casavero Thomas guards against those who would breach the peace of The Ville. His feet walk the parapets between rooftops black in moonlight while his mind sprints through grassy fields bright in the sun and brighter still because Julie Garcia runs before him, smiling over her shoulder with golden tresses just out of reach. Today is Midsummerfest and the people of Brodman’s Bluff will come to enjoy the lull between planting and harvesting. The people of The Ville will play host in return for the favor of last year. There will be games and food and, with any luck, Casavero and Julie will be one of many couples to slip off for a stolen moment or two.
Beyond the pasture canopies sway in a gust, a harbinger of a pre-dawn storm perhaps, wind and trees an alarum, or just the day awakening with a yawn and stretch of leafy branches before rolling over for a bit more sleep. It is a holiday. Trees and wind and young men all can sleep in if they choose once their watches end, but Casavero knows that neither he nor any of the other guards will sleep tonight. There is an excitement in the air beyond any chance of a storm or bandit raid. There is the certainty of the festival and the chances it will bring.
“Casavero, ho?”
“Ho, Temo, que sera de mi? It’s me again and point that thing away again, will you? I’m tired of looking at the tip of your thirty-eight every time we meet.”
“You could have been a bandit. That’s what we’re here to look for, you know.”
“Yes, but out there, Temo, not up here. If some bandit had climbed the wall and took my place you’d have heard me object, strongly, trust me.”
“Well, . . .”
“And don’t you shoot our relief, either. They’re due any minute and we can get off the wall and greet the dawn at the fairground as long as you don’t involve us in a battle with our own people.”
“A bandit could slip in and approach from behind. We’re supposed to challenge everybody even if we’re sure it’s a friend, our own father, or the mayor himself. Sorry, Casso, I . . .”
“Forget it. I’d say you’re right and we should challenge the mayor, but that hasn’t worked very well for my father, has it?”
”No, but you know what I mean. Any shadow could be a threat so challenge and shoot if you don’t get an answer.”
“Fine. Just don’t shoot any Bluffers today. They’re supposed to be our guests.”
“Them we’ll beat on the field. Xian will at least. He can run and wrestle any Bluffer into the ground. Oh, sheep’s tail, I’m sorry, Casso.”
“Forget it. He beat me fair enough. At least I got up the pole first. And your arrow hit the circle dead center like it was placed there by hand. If I had not seen it myself I would have sworn you stabbed it then only told the tale of shooting it. You’re bound to win for The Ville today.”
