Monastery of the Seven Forms, Lamashan 21, 4592 AR (part IV)

After Sëdara left, a heavy silence fell between them. It was very rare for anyone to adopt a child. Five, all at once, must have been unheard of even for Headmistress Drane. The woman took a deep breath and looked at the crestfallen orphaned.

“Children, eat your cake in the kitchen.” Despite the soft tone, it was an order that no one would disobey.

The children formed a crooked queue that walked, somewhat dourly, down the corridor. Lysa pulled Ayalal by the hand to follow at the tail of the group, but the Headmistress turned her attention to them.

“I want to talk to both of you. Come in and close the door,” she said, disappearing into her office.

Lysa took a deep breath, running her free hand over her face. Her cheeks were warm from the tension she had been through as she had faced the celestial being. Lysa observed Ayalal. He was still frightened, as if he had just seen a ghost.

“Ay,” she murmured, bringing both knees to the floor and getting a little lower than him. “I don’t know what you saw, but do not mention it to Mrs. Drane. We talk later about that and you can tell me everything, alright?

The little one listened to her, absorbing her words. Lysa's voice soothed the fear that tightened his chest like a mother's lullaby.

“They are evil. I know they're bad,” he muttered after a few seconds. “We can’t let them take the others. They are going to hurt them.”

She was not sure where Ayalal had gotten such an idea, but the child's expression was beyond worried and conveyed conviction.

“Ay, nothing bad will happen to them. Those people weren’t bad, just a little different from what we're used to here. That's what made you feel that way.”

He wanted to believe her. After all the woman had been an angel, and angels were always good, everyone said so. But still…

“I’m sorry,” Ayalal murmured. He had no logical explanation, but he was simply unable to believe in the good intentions of the people who had just visited the orphanage.

Lysa smiled at him in the tender and understanding way she always reserved for him. She grabbed Ay’s face with both hands and laid a kiss on his forehead.

“Let’s go talk with Mrs. Drane?”

Ay nodded and the young woman straightened. She turned to Ay and pushed him carefully ahead of her.

The office was a small cubicle. From one side a square window allowed the artificial light of the city to enter timidly; on the opposite side stood a shelf, somewhat crooked and with more dust than books. Seated behind her desk, the headmistress did not look impatient. In fact, her expression was thoughtful as her fingers drummed on the wood.

“Sit down,” she said, indicating two chairs before her. She watched the tension of one and the other as they followed the indication. The old wood creaked even under the weight of the child. “What you did moments ago was imprudent and disrespectful. But…” She paused and smiled. “I admit that I was amazed and pleased.”

Ayalal and Lysa looked at each other. Neither of them expected what appeared to be approval, even if reluctant.

“Lady Drane…” Lysa began, but the headmistress raised a hand that silenced her.

“The person who left you here,” she said, facing Ayalal “asked us to take care of you. If you wanted to go with Miss Sëdara, no one would stop you. However, if you feel that you are happier in the orphanage, with your family,” her look turned to Lysa “then your place is here, until you decide to leave. And nothing can make you go. Do you understand?”

Ay's head moved almost autonomously in a nod. He had imagined that the headmistress would be the first to want to send him away. It would be one less mouth to feed. But he realized that he had been mistaken. He could stay in the orphanage with Lysa, until he was grown up and start working, at least.

“Go to the others,” she dismissed them, leaning back in her chair.

Lysa rose, with obvious relief, but Ayalal did not. The hand that had not held the cake grabbed the side of his seat, forcing him to stay there. He bit his lower lip lightly, until he had the courage to ask the question.

“Who left me here?”

The headmaster raised her eyebrows a little, then let out a sigh.

“I do not know, Ayalal. It was Lysa who found you here at the door. With you came a note and some money.”

The boy's shoulders slumped and his head leaned forward, discouraged. It was not a subject he thought about much compared to other children. However, as he listened to Mrs. Drane speak of such an anonymous presence, the interest he usually hid away had surfaced.

“I still have the note here,” the headmistress said, opening the table's drawer and taking out a worn notebook from the inside. She flipped through it for a while, until she pulled a small piece of parchment from between two pages and handed it to Ayalal.

He looked at it with fear, as if it might bite him. Hesitantly, he release the chair and reached out to grab it. Only after leaving the office did he dare to see what was written. The handwriting was shaky, some letters were smeared and others were faint, as if the hand of the writer had not found the necessary firmness.

He took a deep breath and put the note in his pocket. One day he would be able to read it.