by M. D. Grimm
Brutus paced outside while Lance followed Gust inside the apothecary’s modest shop. Gust smiled and strode right up to the counter. Lance considered the squat, well-endowed effigy placed at one of the corners. He suspected it was Drska. He remembered that Ally had a similar one at her shop as well.
“Good morning Imtep, I see we caught you right as you opened.”
“As you always do.” Imtep snorted and took the list. He sighed heavily and shook his head. “That woman will be the death of me.”
“That woman keeps you in business single-handedly.”
Imtep snorted a laugh. “Well said. The usual payment?”
“Half in docets, half in poultry.”
“Ah. So your recent deer hunting experience wasn’t successful?”
Gust rolled his eyes. “What you heard is probably true. There was a bear in the forests yesterday. Why it was so far south, only Batsa knows. It came upon us and between Lance and Brutus, we came out the victor.”
Imtep looked at Lance, who met his gaze unflinching. “I’d heard about your foreign patient. He seems no worse the wear for tangling with a bear.”
“That’s because Gust is a great healer,” Lance said.
Imtep smirked and turned back to Gust. “I’ll get these items for you. Many are in the back. Wait here.”
He disappeared.
“That was kind of you to say,” Gust said.
“It’s the truth. I knew you’d heal me so I wasn’t afraid of what the bear might do.”
With a pinched expression, Gust stepped closer and touched Lance’s good shoulder. “While I’m grateful for the trust, you need to understand that I’m not a god. I’m only a man. There are some injuries that I can’t heal. Please be careful. Don’t throw your life away needlessly.”
“I won’t if you won’t.”
Gust smiled. “I promise that freely.”
“Then I promise.”
“Good.”
Lance turned his attention to the objects on the shelves. A small, purple crystal caught his eye. “What’s that?”
“A seer stone. It’s used to communicate over long distances. It’s faster than messengers. They’re extremely rare and expensive. He’s had it for years, and I don’t think he’ll ever be able to sell it. As far as I know, only nobility and royalty can afford and utilize such a thing. It also only works when the other party has a stone as well.”
“How does it work?”
“I think you place it in a bowl of water and say a divine word along with the person’s name you wish to contact. Then once you connect, you can see the person’s face in the water and speak to them.”
“Magic.”
Gust nodded. “I’ve also heard that if you have two stones, you can somehow use them to travel to a far-away location without actually traveling there. Like, say, you have an army you need to transport from one kingdom to another. You put down two stones, say a divine word or two and a gate-like thing opens up, you step through, and poof! There you are.” He shrugged. “I’m sure there’s more to it than that but I couldn’t say what.” He paused. “With the right training, anyone can be taught to use a magical object. Unfortunately, there are many elites that like to spread the idea that people are magical instead of the objects. They want to keep certain guilds, like priesthood, within certain families. Hogwash. Things are magical because they are infused with divinity. People are just people. Only the gods could be considered magical.”
“You asked the gods to save me,” Lance said softly. When he truly thought about it, the truth shook him to his core. Gust had beseeched the gods to save his life. Twice, if he wasn’t mistaken.
“Yes,” Gust said just as softly. “My aunt and I drew the symbols with the sacred ink and spoke the word. Our pleas were answered both times.”
Lance tried to swallow and nearly choked. He found Gust’s hand and tentatively took it. Gust squeezed, not letting go. Something foreign stirred in his gut, and a strange tingling began in his groin. Was he getting ill?
“What is a divine word?” he asked abruptly, trying to distract himself.
Gust frowned. “It’s one of the few words given to us directly by the gods. The words are linked to the act. As a healer, I know a few and use them sparingly so as not to anger the gods by asking for too much. I thought everyone knew what a divine word was.”
Lance shrugged, feeling dumb. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. “I grew up in a warband. I was trained in battle and little else.”
“Can you read and write?”
Lance nodded. “A little. It’s hard but I can if I need to.”
“Were there any healers in your band?”
He shook his head. “We rarely used healers. Only if one of the warlord’s favorites was severely injured would we seek out a healer, and then he’d threaten them with death if they didn’t save the life.”
Gust swallowed hard. “Gods. I’m sorry.”
“I’m the one that’s sorry. Despite the gray jerkin that should have protected them, they were killed when they failed.”
What he didn’t say was that he was the one that usually did the killing. His hands were stained with the blood of men and women of every guild along with innocent children. The only ones ever spared Ulfr’s wrath were priests and priestesses. He didn’t want to anger the gods by killing their personal servants.
Lance regretted all of it. Every single bit of it he wished to undo. With Gust by his side, and his comforting scent surrounding Lance, his warmth and the touch of his hand, Lance wished he could bring back every single person he’d struck down. If he had to exchange his life for theirs, he would make that deal. He’d never once prayed to any of the gods. Maybe he should start.
“Lance?” Gust asked softly.
Unable to speak, Lance said nothing.
“Here you are, Gust,” Imtep said as he returned, arms filled with packages and jars. Gust left to claim his purchases. Lance stared at the seer stone, troubled, confused, and tired. What was the right decision? He’d never made a decision in his life until recently, and he had no idea how exhausting they could be.
“Like the seer stone? I finally found someone to buy it. I’ll be sending my granddaughter to deliver it to Apys after the festival. Won’t be accepting payment with one of those things in the future.”
“You helped a noble or something?” Gust asked.
“Aye. When I was young.”
“Kurzun and Mandissa didn’t want it?”
“Odd, isn’t it? I offered it to the last set of keepers as well as the current ones but they refuse each time. I even tried to use it as a divine offering. Nothing.”
“Well, I’m glad you found a buyer. Hey, Lance, what to help?”
Lance held out his arms, and Gust loaded him up.
“Here are your docets. One of the apprentices will be by later with your poultry.”
“I look forward to it. See you at the festival.”
“Aye, you will.”
They hauled the purchases back to the healing hut with Brutus trotting behind him, snorting as if in laughter. Gust called to Jabi and let him know about the delivery of the chickens that afternoon. Kissa was appreciative and gave them both smiles. Lance found her gratitude was worth being a pack animal.
Gust dragged him out again to continue their tour. Unfortunately, by midday, Lance was sore and tired, and Gust urged him back to the healing hut.
“Your body has been through a lot. Don’t be in such a hurry. It’s doing what it can to recover. And if you want to join me at the festival tomorrow, you need to rest now.”
Gust tucked him in and was about to leave.
“Wait.”
“Yes?”
“This bed is so damn soft and… I just sleep better with you near. Could you stay until I fall asleep?”
At first Lance wondered if he’d said something wrong when Gust just stared at him. Then Gust smiled, those green eyes bright, and he sat on the edge of Lance’s be
d.
“I can certainly do that for you. Go to sleep, Lance. Food will be waiting for you when you awaken.”
Lance closed his eyes and had to swallow a groan of pleasure when Gust began stroking his hair. Was it safety he felt? Comfort? Whatever it was, it was the complete opposite of what he’d felt all those years under Ulfr’s thumb. He liked these sensations a lot better. How could he repay Gust and Kissa and the rest of the healers for what they’d done for him?
Gust’s scent and his touch lulled Lance into a light sleep without dreams.
Chapter Thirteen
The festival was a multi-day event. It spanned both day and night with events and entertainment of many sorts, along with games, contests, dances, and constant food and drink. Stores would be closed, and the town would be full of life and boisterous joy.
Most people would start off at the tavern, where the first stories would be told. There was an informal circuit of particular places at certain times where one could eat and drink and listen to songs and tales of Cairon’s and the empire’s ancient pasts.
Gust planned on taking Lance to the tavern to begin the circuit. He wanted to introduce his friend to as much Cairon myth and culture as he could, and to have him experience all aspects of life, especially entertainment and community. And since Lance was still healing, it would be good to have him sit and relax as often as possible.
The morning and afternoon before the festival, however, Lance was making a nuisance of himself trying to be helpful. Granted, Lance meant well. He carried anything heavy despite Kissa’s reproaches, and even helped drying dishes. He took orders well, almost eager to be told what else he could do. He was also well-adept at cleaning blood out of bandages and clothes, which shouldn’t have surprised Gust as much as it did. He endeared himself to about half of them, and the apprentices weren’t so afraid of him anymore. It also helped that Gust had told all of them about the bear incident while Lance was out of the room. It relieved him to see them warm up to his friend.
Lance was more than willing to carry a patient in when Amin broke his leg falling off a roof he was repairing. He stayed nearby, and there was no mistaking the wonder in his eyes when Gust and Seth tended to Amin. Not everyone had such respect for healers. Then Gust remembered their earlier conversation about healers and what that warlord did to them. No wonder Lance was fascinated. He was like a curious child.
Despite his usefulness, he was a bit too eager to please, and there was no mistaking the relief when Gust finally managed to tug him away. Brutus had returned to the field, and Gust took some money for a meal and a drink at the tavern. It was still light out as they made their way to the tavern. They passed near enough to the market square to hear that games were in full swing and an energetic dance was taking place on the designated wooden dancefloor. Lively music encouraged the dancers to put their all into it. Lance stayed close to him and swiveled his head around in wonder before they stepped inside the tavern.
Noise blasted them and Lance tensed. Gust took hold of his arm and guided him toward the back to one of the smaller tables. Lance sat, alert and observing. Gust patted his shoulder before walking to the bar and ordering food and some ale. The tavern served decent food.
He received some waves and shouts. He nodded to everyone and yet didn’t stop to converse. There were almost as many children and young folk as there were adults, everyone clearly having a good time. It was certainly an event to anticipate with excitement. Lance had appeared to relax a little by the time Gust returned. Lance took in everything with his inquisitive eyes, and there was no mistaking the relief in them when he spotted Gust.
Gust sat next to him and gave him an easy smile. “Things will quiet down when someone stands up to either recite a story or sing a song. Once the sun disappears, our real entertainment should start.”
Lance perked up with excitement and Gust chuckled.
It was as he said. After one of the serving women set down their plates of food and tankards of ale, a tall, broad woman stood up and started singing without warning. Several patrons produced instruments and easily took up the melody.
When the ale was freely flowing, several people took up the call to hear about Gust and the bear. Lance looked startled, and Gust patted his shoulder, not surprised at all that everyone heard about it but no one knew the details.
“Leave it to me,” he said softly. Then he stood and lifted his tankard. “You all want to hear a beast tale, do you?”
Everyone roared in encouragement. Gust grinned. While the memories of that attack still haunted him, he could separate himself from it just enough to entertain his friends and neighbors. He set his hand on Lance’s good shoulder and freely exaggerated the tale past all believability. Lance now fought the bear with his bare hands, and he added a second bear to spice things up and proclaimed that he shot arrows from Brutus’s back to disable them. No one cared that it wasn’t the truth. That wasn’t the point.
Gust noticed a visiting minstrel scribbling madly on parchment and resisted a laugh. This was good. He frequently glanced at Lance to find him looking bemused. Gust merely shrugged and finally ended the tale the same way it did in real life. Lance protected Gust, and Brutus saved the day. Cheers and hollers echoed in the tavern when he sat down, grinning wide.
“That’s not what happened,” Lance murmured.
Gust laughed and gave him a one-armed hug. “No one cares. They wanted a good story, and I gave them one. Now you’re a hero.”
Lance blushed and stared at the table. “Brutus is the hero.”
“No doubt.”
Then the owner’s mother, the matron of the tavern, and fully-trained minstrel, stood up and told a story they all knew and everyone loved. The owner, Heb, was one of the youngest council members. He’d taken over his father’s seat after he’d died, and no one saw the need to vote him out. Heb smiled at his mother, continuing to serve ale while keeping her in his sights.
“The Nifdem Empire has not always been what we know today.”
And with that one line, the festival’s story-telling circuit had truly started. Despite her speaking in Coptin, Lance leaned forward, staring with such intensity, Gust wondered if he’d recognized the word “Nifdem.” Since Lance had never heard about divine words, Gust wouldn’t be surprised if his history knowledge was lacking as well. He set his arm across Lance’s shoulders and leaned close to quietly interpret the words into Taris.
“Once the kingdoms were divided. The sea was vast, separating them for miles. Cairon could not see the others, so far past the horizon were they. The same with Swenen and the many islands of Grekenus. Tribes and savagery flourished, war and brutality a daily, monthly, yearly occurrence. The gods despaired. They were given tribute, yes, and yet it was not from love but fear. It was not from order but chaos. Snet ruled in those times. And though the other kingdoms had different gods, they all agree that this was the time of chaos where brother turned against brother and sister connived against sister.”
Not much has changed. Gust kept his thoughts to himself. Grekenus was a prime example of what happened when chaos was allowed to rein. He couldn’t fathom why the civil war hadn’t been extinguished before now. It had been raging for generations already and harsher in recent years. It had even begun to spill over their borders.
“It was during this time that great Ysys felt the pain of her people. She wept bitter tears and grieved for their losses and agony. Her husband Osys, also grieved. His hall kept growing, the dead outnumbering the living. Anknet, the two-faced gatekeeper, urged her superiors to do something. Hoksys, the son of Ysys and Osys, could not defeat his uncle Snet and grew weaker each passing year. Ysys knew what she must do. The gods could not directly interfere in the affairs of mortals. That would tip the scales and unbalance creation itself. So Ysys devised a plan. Though she loved Osys dearly, she must betray him once with a mortal man. And that man gave her a child. A daughter. A demi-goddess she named Net.”
As one, the entire tavern raised their tank
ards in tribute to Net.
“Net was of the mortal world as well as the divine. She had her mother’s wisdom and compassion, and her father’s stubbornness and determination. She grew quickly, witnessing atrocities no child should behold. Her father protected her, for he was a proud man and knew the honor of mating with the supreme goddess of life. He taught Net and loved her.
“Then he was killed. Murdered by his own brother. Despite being still a child, she knew what she must do. Her mother spoke to her in her dreams. She had the power of a god and the life of a mortal. She knew her purpose and embraced it. She must unite what was broken. She did great feats that proved her divinity. She had her uncle banished and took over the chiefhood of her tribe. This young girl commanded the largest and most deadly tribe in Cairon.
“All tribes rallied behind her, uniting behind her banner. She began establishing order. She began encouraging trust and loyalty. Her people saw her as a living god, one sent to save them and lead them to victory. She commanded them with her compassion and will. They marched north to the very edge of their land. Then she bid them watch as she commanded the earth and rock and seas to bow to her will. To their great astonishment, the land moved. The seas flowed out and before their eyes, other lands became visible. Hurtling toward them at such speeds to be impossible. Many fainted away, unable to comprehend the majesty of Net.
“Then Swenen and Cairon slammed into each other, merging into one land. Mountains rose up where they collided, and we call them The Stitches. Then Grekenus swept forward, the larger land mass along with the smaller islands. But in this she chose differently. Instead of stitching the west to the north and south, she created a great river, The Vein, the life’s blood of fishing, pearl-diving, and the mining of the rare seer stones.
“All beheld her in wonder and awful silence. This girl had united the separated, and all people, from north to south to west, fell on their knees and worshipped her, a living god. Their living god. She ruled with compassion and unity, battling back the discord of Snet. Hoksys named himself her guardian, her patron, and so became the patron of all emperors and empresses since. Net took herself a husband and had five children. Her eldest son she named her heir. He was of her temperament and sought to keep united what Snet continually tries to pull apart.
