Free The Children of Calm by J Michael Smith

eyes staring blindly into nothing. But Rylek’s eyes locked with Selenor’s, and he saw the tears that graced her cheeks.
    His heart broke.
     
    ***
     
    They eventually left the Old Sentinel, but more out of obligation than anything else. The village bell had tolled one hour after noon. Caenar had set up an appointment with them to discuss their birthday at one o’clock, and it was always rather difficult to back out of something he had scheduled. They made their way to the Hall of Knowledge, which housed the town library. Caenar was the Chief Librarian and Historian.
    In front of the Hall, in the middle of the street, was a large golden statue of a pious-looking man: he was bald with a thick beard, eyes lifted skyward, one arm holding a book, the other a spade. The plaque at its base was labeled KAEL WHINDREP , in honor of the man who saved the village after The Great Purging. It was his ideals of isolationism and socialism that the villagers adopted, fearing any contamination from The Outside. Through the years the isolationist mentality naturally lessened, though the villagers did not go out of their way to remind the rest of Calabranda of the village’s presence. Rylek never liked the statue, and found it odd that the villagers had some time ago thought it necessary to build.
    All four ignored it in their continued silence as they climbed the steps to the front door. Their dark mood lingered as they entered the tall vaulted main room saturated with sunlight and the sweet musty smell of paper, and carried them as they made their way to the back.
    Caenar’s door was open. The silence was finally broken when he said, “Ah, my dear children, please come in.”
    The office was not overly large. The centerpiece was a beautiful old desk, with some odd papers and such scattered around it. A bookshelf filled with dusty volumes lined one wall, while various maps and paintings lined the others. Four chairs were facing the desk. Caenar rose from his chair behind the desk, and walked towards the children.
    “Please come in and have a seat. Make yourselves at home,” he said, while pulling the two middle chairs out for Selenor and Lana. Rylek could not help faintly smiling at the old gentleman.
    “I trust all is well with you,” Caenar continued, “but, if I may be so bold, I cannot ignore that these old eyes of mine see fallen countenances upon your faces. Is there anything at all I can do for you?”
    Tresten seemed to be in a trance.
    Selenor’s voice cracked. “No sir, I guess we’re just having one of those days, if you know what I mean.”
    Caenar studied them all for a few moments and then warmly smiled. “Indeed I do, Miss Selenor, indeed I do. However, allow me to say one thing first, and then we shall move on to other more celebratory matters. But even before that, I have one other important thing I must do.”
    He picked up a pipe that had been lying on his desk and proceeded to light it. After a few deep draws, he started up again.
    “Yes, that is much better. Sometimes a puff or so is all one needs. But moving on, what I wanted to say was this: as I am sure you all know, life has a way of revealing itself to us in unusual ways at inopportune times. And in those times it seems as though the world must stop for us so that we can allow ourselves the time to process, to hash out answers to questions for which we were not at all prepared. We feel the intrinsic need to make ourselves right, to bring ourselves back to equilibrium, before we can move on with our lives. But the sad truth is we are powerless to remove ourselves from this world, from this great gift of life that has been granted us.”
    Tresten let out a forceful sigh and shuffled in his chair. Rylek knew he was not appreciating the lecture.
    Surprisingly, Caenar apparently took the hint. “Well, I suppose what I am meaning to say is this: continue engaging yourselves in the world around you, and you will find those little details working themselves