Chapter 4 - Confrontation

He knew he might not have much time.

He sat down grabbed his pen, filled once again with black ink, and began drawing.

As the pen flew across the pages, he sensed, rather than saw, the shadows growing around him. He knew, even if he were captured, his dark drawings would be safe. Mayor Carmichael would never commit the ultimate crime and reason of tearing a page from the Book, regardless of what was drawn on it, even if it were these monsters.

When the pages had been covered from corner to corner in creeping shadows, he slammed the book shut and found the empty bottle of ink on his desk. He glared at the creatures around the room, then closed his eyes and willed them to gather inside the bottle.

No sooner had he opened his eyes to find that the vast majority of them had been contained, leaving only three skulking around the room, than there was a knock on the door. He closed the lid on the shadows and set the bottle on the desk. Slowly, he laid his pen down, and only then did he raise his head.

“Wilfre?” That was the mayor. “Open the door, please.”

“And if I refuse?” he demanded.

“We break it down and march in anyways!” shouted Cricket. “This is an official investigation! Open the door!”

“Cricket, we won't be breaking down anything,” said Mayor Carmichael patiently.

He sighed. “Come in.”

They entered, the mayor in the lead, followed by Cricket on his right, and, on his left, Isaac.

“Traitor! Heretic! Thief!” hissed the younger Rapo. “I never trusted you!”

“Those are harsh names to be throwing around,” he replied coolly. “What would Lia say?”

“Don't you dare try and tell me what my Lia would say!”

He laughed. “Your Lia?”

“D'you honestly think she'll want you? After this? The word's already spreading like wildfire. It'll be minutes before everyone knows what you've done!”

“And how many of them will believe it if you've been spreading the word, Raponerd?”

“Wilfre...” warned the mayor.

“I'm sorry, Mayor,” he said loudly.

“He's not--” began Isaac.

“His sarcasm is duly noted, Isaac!”

He glared, first at Carmichael, then at Isaac. “What makes you so sure she'll choose you? There are other Raposa here, you know!”

“We're two of the youngest Rapos in the village,” Isaac said. “We're the closest to her age!”

“Why didn't you ever just give up?” he taunted. “Why would she choose a Ra...” A glare from the mayor made him change threads. “A regular Raposa like you, over a smart, well-liked, important Rapo like myself?”

“She wouldn't!” Isaac said, and laughed. “And for that, I have to thank you, Wilfre. If you hadn't gone and done this—” He gestured around the room at the shadows and the Book. “—I would have never had a chance.” He set his mouth. “So I guess I really ought to say thanks—it's due to you I'll be marrying her this summer.”

That was the last straw. Wilfre lunged at Isaac, hands outstretched, teeth bared in a snarl. He didn't have a plan for when he got his hands on the younger Rapo, but instinct drove him to cause Isaac as much pain as was possible, to cripple him, maim him, tear his eyes out, rip out his throat, slice his face open--

The next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, sharp pain stabbing into his back and shoulders, staring at the ceiling and with Isaac's foot on his chest.

“I'm stronger than I look, Rapobully,” spat Isaac, his eyes flashing dangerously behind his glasses. “That'll teach you to attack me!”

“That's enough, Isaac,” said the mayor. “Back down.”

“I hate you,” he hissed up at Isaac.

“The only thing we have in common,” Isaac growled.

“That will do,” Carmichael repeated. “You can let him up now.”

They glared at each other, he on the floor and Isaac towering above him. Both were breathing hard. Hatred was coursing through him like fire. He had never been so furious in his life as he was with Isaac right then.

“Isaac!” the mayor said, almost shouting. “Back down!”

For a moment longer, their eyes were locked, and then Isaac stepped back and stood behind the mayor again.

“Get up, Silver” said Cricket. The once-friendly nickname sounded like poison.

“And if I don't?”

“Would you rather be dragged to the station, or walk?”

He got slowly, laboriously to his feet, wincing.

“From now on,” Carmichael said furiously, “there will be no physical violence in this discussion.” He glared at them both. “Do you hear me?”

“Yes, Mayor,” said Isaac. His eyes were still fixed on Wilfre's.

“Good. Are you alright, Isaac?”

Isaac nodded curtly.

“Wilfre?”

He began to nod, then swayed on his feet dizzily. “Nnnhh, maybe not...” He raised a hand to the back of his head.

Cricket scowled at Isaac. “Do you need to rest before we continue?” Carmichael asked. He frowned. “Well, perhaps begin would be a more apt term.”

He nodded and stepped cautiously back to sit down.

“He's fine!”

Isaac's shout startled everyone. Even Cricket jumped.

“Even now, even after you've seen the truth, you're letting him draw you in!” the young Rapo shouted. “You think that's him!” He pointed to Wilfre. “You think that's him, but it's not!” He gestured around the room. “This is him! These things—that Book on the table—that's what he is!”

Mayor Carmichael looked about to speak, but he changed his mind.

“Look at him! You think that's who he is, you think that's Wilfre, but you're wrong! That's just charisma and charm! That's a mask and an act! You look at him and you see a Raposa, but he's only lies and deceit!” Isaac was furious now. “He's an enchanter, that's what he is, a magician, and he's captured everyone in his spell!”

“Those are harsh accusations,” said the mayor. “He may not agree with all the ideas we Raposa hold true, but what you're suggesting is more than that.”

“Cricket, you know he's smart,” Isaac said. “Rapo, everyone knows that! And he is smart. No, that's a lie, he isn't smart. He's brilliant. He's an absolute genius. He's the best tactician Rapoville has ever seen, he's logical, he strategizes, he thinks things through, and what's more,he does it quickly. He's clever, creative, innovative!”

Isaac looked defiantly around at the stunned gazes of all three Raposa listening to him. “Yes!” he shouted. “He is clever! He is an innovator! He's got a great mind—one that rivals even Galileo's, I have to admit!”

The young Rapo looked from the mayor to Cricket. “But a mind isn't enough,” he said vehemently. “What good is a mind, if you don't have a heart? He is the most intelligent Rapo who has ever lived! I don't hesitate to admit that. But all of it, all his ideas, all his brilliance—it's all worth nothing!”

He paused and pushed his glasses up his nose. Wilfre inched back and picked up the book. The bottle of shadows, he slipped into he pocket of his jacket. Perhaps while Isaac was distracting them with his tirade...

“But the point still stands—he is smart. He's brilliant. And he's using that amazing mind he has against you. Against us. And by that, I mean all of us.” Isaac's hands curled into fists. “All that skill at strategy—what good is it if this is what he puts his energy into? What is his brilliant mind worth if this is what he does with it? Nothing! Don't you get it? He isn't a good Rapo! He's no better than any common criminal! There's only one difference—charisma. That's all he has over anyone else. He's very charismatic, and he knows it! He has the charm to get respect and sympathy from everyone, and he has the wits to use it to his advantage! He's had us all blind—blind to his fault, blind to his trickery.”

Wilfre slid to the door a step at a time. He didn't care about Isaac's story—he was in trouble anyways. He could try, if given the chance, to defend whatever was left of his reputation, but the most important thing was that he must not be captured. He couldn't let the book be taken back. Not until he understood what was wrong with the process. Not until he could show the rest of the world what was possible.

“We should have seen this coming!” Isaac said. “We should have seen him for what he was—a traitor and a heretic, nothing but a disloyal liar! But we didn't. We were blind. And the thing is, we didn't see it because we didn't want to see it. We wanted to believe that he was a good person. We wanted to believe him. I was drawn to him, too, you know. There's something about his voice, something about his smile. Maybe it's in his eyes—his eyes sort of laugh when he talks. There's something in the way he speaks that makes you want to trust him.”

“Wilfre, sit down at once, and for Rapo's sake, put that Book on the table!”

He jumped; he hadn't expected the Mayor to shout at him. Too startled to think of anything else, he scrambled back to the table and dropped the Book on its spine so it fell open.

“What do you have to say to Isaac's accusations, Silver?” demanded Cricket, taking a few steps forward and standing menacingly over him.

“Cricket, settle down,” sighed Carmichael. “Wilfre, do you have anything to say in response?”

“I say he's being unjust,” he said calmly. “He dislikes me and always has. I fail to understand why he needs to hold onto this silly grudge any longer; he has, after all, won the battle that started it. He has his prize. He has Lia. I suppose he just wants to ruin what's left of me.”

Mayor Carmichael glanced at Cricket, and then nodded for Wilfre to continue.

“I am aware that we have long been rivals, Isaac and I,” he said. “But have I ever made accusations of this scale? I think not! I have worked hard and it has taken me years to win the trust most of the village has for me. Can one trick his way into getting respect? I suppose it's possible, but I would swear on the Book of Life that I had no intention of doing so. I believe I have earned the respect I have.”

He fixed his gaze on the mayor's. “What,” he asked softly, “has Isaac done to win that trust and respect?”

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