Geezer's Property #8

Sweat stood out on the Geezer’s brow, resting briefly in the deep creases in his skin.

He opened his mouth to speak but another voice cut through the silence. It was a beautiful, archaic voice, but it inspired a feeling of awe and respect.

“Lockegeo Bethazel.” rumbled Mekare, bending forward so some of the naga at the front had to duck slightly.

The Geezer bowed as well as he could, saying, clearly, “Yes, O Ancient?”

Mekare looked at the three musketeers, each one staring at him like it would bite them.

“What are your names, O children of the human race?” Leah squeaked and stepped back, but Sherman said, without his usual bravado, “Sherman Sharpe.”

“Rowan Breck.”

It was Sherman’s turn to step on Leah’s foot. She let out a small yelp and then caught herself. “Leah Teodor.”

Mekare considered this.

“Why have you come to the halls of the Bethazel?”

“Because we wanted to see if you existed as Elby said,” replied Sherman, eyeing Mekare apprehensively.

A sound, something between a sneeze, a cough and a growl, emerged from the serpent’s throat (or what they thought was its throat), and Mekare closed his eyes slowly.

It took the kids a second to catch on that the Ancient was laughing. The Geezer looked at him disbelievingly, and then looked at the three intruders, puzzled. The naga looked just as confused, and the Lockemet looked slightly unnerved.

“Mekare!” he shouted, once again shoving his spear into the sand impatiently. “We brought you here to make a decision!”

The rumbling calmed and Mekare looked down at the Lockemet, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Calm down, Lockemet. We have all the time in the world.” Mekare turned back to Sherman. “Yes, child, Elby has proven herself a brilliant capsule through eternity, and you understand her words.”

In spite of what Mekare had said, Sherman looked twice as confused as before.

“Yes, all three of you understand Elby’s script and meanings.” Mekare straightened, head blocking out the early sun. “Therefore, I have come to a judgment.”

Silence reigned, for even the snakes had stopped hissing to hear the Ancient’s proclamation.

“The Lockegeo Bethazel, having failed to train a successor in his age, will retire permanently from his post.”

Several nods of approval from the naga, and the Lockemet looked supremely smug.

“However.” Mekare turned to the Geezer, eyes serious. “Because the pact of the Bethazel cannot be carried out without a human Lockegeo, I give you three days to train these three children in the arts of the Locke.”

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Holy crud! I never fail to surprise myself

And before I wrap up my usual ramblings here, sworddance, what in the WORLD does "bei'theh" mean??

Enjoy! I added a sprig of parsley to contrast the salty flavor

~Sumi