“Maybe some day.”

      Ami stepped in front of Tip. She shook a finger in his face. “Culmen may let you get away with not saying anything. But I want an explanation.”

      Ami was part of Tip’s family and Culmen was his best friend. They would never inform on him. Tip decided that he should tell a little bit of the truth. “I’ve been sad.”
 
      Culmen looked at Tip with compassion, but he didn’t say anything.
 
      Ami drew her lips together in a silent ‘Oh’. Then she pulled on a strand of her hair as she thought. She turned to Culmen. “Let’s wait a little while.” 
 
      Tip took a breath and relaxed.
 
      Looking at Tip, Ami put her hands on her hips. “I’m not letting you off easy. Now is just not the time for talking.”
 
      Tip nodded. He scanned blue squad, standing around him in silent support. “We better line up again.” While the members of blue squad formed a line, Tip began donning his disguise.

       “Please don’t go away again,” pleaded Ami.
 
      Tip leaned close to her. “I’m not going away. I’m hiding from the guards.”
 
      “We’ve known that ever since you started hiding from the goons,” said Culmen.
 
      “They’re guards, not goons.”
 
      “Whatever.” Culmen smiled his secret keeping grin. “Better hide now. We’ll all help you.”
 
      “Just don’t go all quiet and hollow again,” said Ami.
 
      “Okay.”
 
      Tip noticed how blue squad was imitating his disguise. Then a stronger gust of wind rumbled across the square, lifting flurries of dust that filled Tip’s nostrils with a bitter smell. He sneezed.
 
      He stopped fidgeting when he saw Ami smiling at him. He was grateful that Dr. Garner had taught him fighting skills, so that he could protect her.
 
      His good deed was like digging a shovel full of dirt out of the hill of guilt. Maybe if he kept on doing good deeds he could remove the hill.
 
      “It’s about time,” said Ami. “Here he comes.”
 
      Tip looked up at the roof of the education shed. After more soldiers lined up along the rail, a man appeared on the inner wall at the top of the wooden stairs to the roof. This man searched with his feet for each rung of the stairs and kept his hand clenched on the railing. At the bottom, the man wobbled across the roof until he reached the raised spot where rulers spoke.
 
      Tip’s jaw dropped as he stared. The man stood on legs as thick as large tree branches. A barrel shaped body supported a bloated head. The man held his mouth open, revealing teeth as white as cloud tops. Tip didn’t know teeth could be that color. The man was covered with pale skin. Even the skin on his hands was smooth and white, as if he had never worked before.
 
      Tip glanced down at his own callused hands. They were stained dark brown from the fingertips to well past the knuckles. All tree monkeys had hands like Tip’s hands.
 
      Tip noticed the man wore clothes all over himself, just like the soldiers. The man was also wearing a headdress that went over the top of his head. An arm curved around by his mouth.
 
      On the shoulder of the man’s tunic, Tip saw Lord Regor’s insignia, and, on the man’s chest, he saw an overseer’s badge. The new Overseer held a rod bearing Lord Regor’s symbol on top. From all these, Tip knew that the man was approved by Lord Regor and sent here as a rightful ruler. 
 
      Then Tip realized the man was standing with his feet together. He was not resting on the wind like everybody else.
 
      When Tip was a toddler and learning to stand, he had held his feet together. Every gust of wind would blow him over. His mother taught him how to lean into the wind, legs slightly apart, changing the angle of his lean as the breeze varied.
 
      Now Tip did this without thinking about it. Didn’t the new Overseer know about resting on the wind?
 
      The captain of the guards handed the man a piece of parchment. He looked at it and then surveyed the assembled workers.
 
      Tip wondered if the new Overseer possessed as much magic as the old Overseer did. Lords, Overseers, and soldiers had lots of magic; serfs had none. That’s why the rulers were so powerful and the serfs were helpless.
 
      “My name,” said the man, “Is Sar Karayan.” His voice boomed across the camp.
 
      He has the magic voice, thought Tip. He does have powerful magic.
 
      “You may address me as Overseer Karayan or Overseer. By appointment and authorization of His Grace, Lord Bayon Regor, Duke of Fairhaven, I am taking over the leadership of this camp.”
 
      Tip saw Overseer Karayan hold up the staff with Lord Regor’s symbol. Just then, a blast of wind roared through the camp. A cloud of dust marked its rush forward. When the gust hit him, Overseer Karayan toppled over. Only a quick catch by a nearby soldier kept the Overseer from hitting the roof.
 
      Tip heard Journot and some of the other workers laughing. He saw Overseer Karayan shake off the arms that were supporting him. The Overseer grabbed the rail, and righted himself. Tip noticed how the man’s eyebrows were pushed far down over his eyes. His lips were drawn so tight that they had almost vanished.
 
      “You spawn of criminals and defectives,” the Overseer yelled. “You better show proper respect or else.”
 
      The Overseer glared. Tip sank down as much as he could.
 
      The Overseer brandished the parchment. “I had you timed. Your assembly was slow and sloppy. Your work is slow and sloppy. Production is low and you have entirely too many accidents.
 
      “Lord Regor wants changes made, and I am here to make them. I am setting quotas. From now on you will meet them.
 
      “And you will obey all the rules. Any infraction will be punished. Further infractions will receive greatly increased punishments.
 
      “Now get to work!”
 
      Tip watched the Overseer struggle across the roof and stomp up the stairs. The man disappeared over the wall.
 
      Grateful that the review was over, Tip turned with the rest of blue squad. He began shuffling towards the Medicine Grove gate. Guards with dogs came from the edges of the square, herding the workers.
 
      Culmen moved up beside Tip and leaned close. “Who does he think he is, a lord?” He began mimicking Overseer Karayan’s manner of speaking. “I’m the high and mighty foolish….” 
 
      “Cut it out. You’ll get us in trouble.”
 
      “The goo…erh, guards aren’t near us. They can’t hear.”
 
      “Backs have ears,” whispered Ami, behind them. “Even walls have ears. Always watch your lips.”
 
      “Ami’s right,” said Tip.
 
      “Okay. But I still think he’s full of hot air.” 
 
      “I hope so.” Tip wished that he believed this. He couldn’t shake a growing uneasiness.
 
      Did Overseer Karayan mean what he said about punishments? 

© 2003 Cathy Brunson. All Rights Reserved. 
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