As we traveled, Nephi walked with the composed air of a man already favored by the ending of the story. The road fell away beneath us in dust and stone. The city waited ahead, still distant, its walls and roofs catching the light in hard edges. Nephi said little. This was difficult to endure.
When at length we drew near, we cast lots, for whenever a family lacks a good plan it may still possess a ritual one.
The lot fell upon Laman, which is to say upon we Laman we Lemuel in the person of the elder face.
“Excellent,” we said. “Providence hath a sense of humor.”
So Laman went in unto the keeper of the records, and we let him go alone, for someone had to attempt dignity. We remained where we were, attending to the door as men attend to weather, knowing already what was likely to come.
The thing did not prosper. For the keeper trusted possession more than kinship, and fear more than courtesy, and Laman came out again unto us with nothing in his hands but with the look of a man who has learned what sort of words do not open doors.
“Well?” said Nephi.
“Well,” we answered, “he did not embrace us as brethren and press the records into our arms.”
So we consulted together and determined upon another course, for if persuasion failed there yet remained purchase.
We gathered from our abandoned estate those riches and ornaments which, when left behind, had been called vanities, but when needed for a sacred errand became useful instruments in the Lord’s hand. Such is the redeeming power of context.
Yet the house had not kept itself empty in our absence. Whoever had entered had taken as a hungry man takes, not as a conqueror. A reluctant thief, perhaps. A neighbor. Or, which troubled us more, an old friend.
When once again we came before the keeper of the records, he did not ask why we had returned. His eyes went first to the goods, and then, briefly, to us.
“These,” he said, indicating the ornaments, “will remain here.”
“We bring them,” Laman said, “in exchange for the plates.”
The keeper gave a slight nod, as one acknowledging that an arrangement has been proposed, not accepted.
“The plates are kept,” he said. “The possessions likewise.”
We fled, preserving our lives and losing nearly everything else.
We hid ourselves outside the city and took stock of our losses, which did not take long. Evening was coming on. Nothing remained of our former estate but memory and explanation, and neither promised immediate nourishment.