by Erik A Otto
Chapter 15
The Naustic
Nala enjoyed using her newfound leverage over the Purveyor. She could ask that they push on even when the Purveyor was tired. She posed questions that, as a pious person, perhaps she shouldn’t have. And the more questions she asked, the less awe and respect she had for this Purveyor, whatever his high standing among his people.
Although, she had to admit, his blasphemous ideas were so outlandish that she actually found them entertaining.
They made camp outside of Pyros with the plan of going to the Harvellian estate first thing in the morning. The growing season had ended, and there were many places where one could find freshly fallen fruit nearby. They stopped outside a small grove of apple trees, and she gathered a few nicely reddened ones while the Purveyor set up the tents.
“So is this stealing, then, in the eyes of the Fringe?” Nala asked.
“This apple tree may be on someone’s property, but it’s not marked. We don’t consider it stealing because no one has made it clear that it’s their property.”
“Very strange. This is definitely someone else’s apple, I think, so I would think it stealing. And then basically you’re using the same logic for the silverstone ruin. You’re lucky we didn’t see any patrols.”
The Purveyor paused, and then said, “You use the word luck hastily, Nala. Sometimes things happen for a reason. I can assure you the Albondo patrolmen are more comfortable in what they’re doing, probably fishing somewhere on the Great Ocean. And besides, the Belidorans will do nothing with the silverstone, so we aren’t taking something someone else wants, at least in its current form. Everyone wins.”
Had they bribed the patrols? Sometimes the Purveyor spoke so cryptically that she had trouble understanding him. In any event, his logic seemed like another excuse to justify immoral behavior.
“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t have stopped at the apple grove just down the road. It looked wild and little used. Why take someone else’s apples if those are available?”
“Those were unhealthy.”
“How do you know that?”
“Oh, it’s complicated. A theory based on teachings from old Fringe Arcana. You needn’t worry about it.”
Whenever the Purveyor said she wouldn’t be interested, Nala became very interested. “Maybe, but I still want to know.”
The Purveyor sighed. “There are theories that Fringe scholars have put forward. These theories suggest that there are unnatural forces at play in our world. Some parts of the Fringe Arcana also maintain that our world is unnatural, and being unnatural, systems of balance have been introduced to maintain it. For example, while many animals and plants in our world reproduce, in others reproductive systems fail when they aren’t given supplemental nutrients. In fact, those plants and animals that aren’t given the appropriate supplements can become sickly and even die. So one might ask, why do these plants and animals need these supplements if they are of this world? Wouldn’t a world in harmony not require unnatural assistance in order to survive?’”
Nala understood some parts of what the Purveyor was saying, but was mostly lost. “So you’re saying those other apple trees are dying because they don’t have the right nutrients. But what are these unnatural supplements? Isn’t there only the rain, sun, and soil that these trees depend on?”
The Purveyor smiled. “Your question is at the core of the issue. A Fringe Arcana theory that has been postulated is that the supplements come from other plants and animals that are no longer part of our world. One example of this, which is often debated, and that is at first difficult to believe, is the role of the bone chuckers. These vermin can reproduce, of course. Everyone knows that. But if you watch them, most of their offspring die from malformation, as if their reproductive system is flawed. It’s only because they usually birth twenty offspring at a time that they can survive and proliferate like they do.
“I have followed the migration of the bone chuckers, and there’s a common pattern. While it’s true that when the bone chuckers are hungry they like to eat human and animal flesh, they still prefer to eat flesh from the bone mounds almost exclusively, and they can find one easily by their keen sense of smell. Some say they can find a bone mound over a hundreds of miles away. This is why the mounds are decimated so quickly to just bone and sinew, because tens of thousands of bone chuckers tear it apart.”
“So? I already knew that.”
“But do you know what happens after the bone chuckers get their fill of the bone mound flesh?”
She shook her head. Why would she care about that?
“When sated, the bone chuckers return to the area they originated, or at least within a comfortable radius, and they find a place to mate and burrow into the soil. They bring their full sacks of partially digested flesh over countless miles and then deposit them in these boroughs. This is known by many rangers and farmers, but what isn’t well known is that they only burrow into certain types of soil, and near certain vegetation, that is having trouble growing. The only hint of this I have been able to detect is a yellowing of the vegetation. I know this vegetation is flagging because it usually tends to die off in a few years unless a bone chucker comes to burrow nearby.
“What’s happening, or at least according to some accounts of Fringe Arcana, is that the flesh of the bone mounds contains nutrients needed for the soil. The vegetation isn’t quite self-sufficient and needs this helping hand. The bone chuckers are a means for that soil to be reinvigorated, as they deposit their feces laden with the nutrients throughout the soil, which ultimately originated from the bone mound. It allows the vegetation to thrive for a time until the nutrients need replenishing again.”
Everything the Purveyor said about bone chucker migration was true as far as she knew. As for the reason for it, she was skeptical. The bone chuckers were such vile creatures, it was hard to believe they served any practical purpose. “And so, when I asked you about where the bone mounds came from…”
“Yes, it’s a matter of great interest for me, because that’s where the nutrients originate, but no one knows where the bone mounds come from. Unfortunately you might literally spend your life digging to find the answer.”
“Okay, but back to my original question,” Nala said, trying to stay focused. “Are you saying because the other apple grove was yellowish it lacked in nutrients that should have been deposited by bone chuckers? That’s pretty hard to believe.”
“On the surface I agree with you, but I have done studies over a number of years, and collaborated with other scholars. Bone chuckers will always seek out the unhealthy soil, and the vegetation will eventually die without them, over several decades, after a period of intermittent disease.”
Nala was still pessimistic. “It also sounds like you’re saying we shouldn’t kill all the bone chuckers. But they’re so…gross.”
The Purveyor shrugged. “There are indeed many who don’t believe the theory. In fact, among the Fringe scholars, most still don’t believe. At the same time, this is why I will eventually leave Round Top to the bone chuckers, even though there may still be good flesh to salvage. We only keep them away until we can get the best flesh out. Otherwise, if we break the cycle, it could have long-term effects on bone chucker populations and the health of the nearby vegetation.”
“I guess it’s possible,” she responded, not wanting to get adversarial, but then she added, “Just because the bone chuckers do this, though, it doesn’t mean it’s unnatural. Maybe it’s always been this way?”
“Perhaps, Nala, but look at how bone mounds are created, rising from the depths of the earth, and what of the large sacks of flesh on the bone chuckers? It seems so contrived and out of place.” The Purveyor was immersed in contemplation as he answered.
Nala thought on it more. “What about Palido in Belidor? Why is that a problem if Belidor has bone chuckers?”
The Purveyor nodded and smiled. “Good question, Nala. Yes, there are some outliers, I must admit. But
the Palido plague could be of a similar cause. There’s another part of the theory that explains Palido, for which I am gathering evidence.”
“What other part of the theory?”
The Purveyor seemed reluctant to continue. He shook his head. “I can appreciate your interest, Nala, but it’s even more complicated. Maybe it would be best if we adjourned for the evening. Let’s save that for another day.”
Nala’s head was swirling enough as it was, so she decided not to push the matter further.
The next day they packed away their Fringe garments and donned Belidoran clothing they had bought to better blend in near Pyros. It wouldn’t go over well if two Fringe were to show up at the house of Thyros Harvellian.
As they made their way into town, Nala thought about the previous evening’s conversation. She imagined Sebastian might enjoy these discussions. Or would he be unable to stomach all the man’s blasphemous remarks? As for Nala, what they discussed no longer amused her. Instead, it was beginning to disturb her.
“You’re remarkably quiet this morning, Nala,” the Purveyor said.
“I’m trying to figure out whether you and Sebastian will get along or whether you’ll try to kill each other.”
The Purveyor laughed, a rare event, and it lifted Nala’s spirits to hear him. That was what she needed—laughter.
The Harvellian estate entrance was adorned with a large crescent moon made of wood and bone positioned over the gate. It hung above an emblem of the Matagon Spire. The Purveyor looked solemn going under the moon and spire, like a man going to war. He also hung back from Nala. They had decided she would do the talking since Sebastian’s mother would recognize her from before the apprenticeship exams.
Mrs. Harvellian opened the door while wearing a frown laced with suspicion.
“Mrs. Harvellian, we met before, if you remember. I’m Nala Réalla. We come looking for Sebastian. I was his friend, and I wish him no ill will. I only wish to speak with him.”
Mrs. Harvellian’s frown dissipated. “Yes, I remember you, Nala. How are you?” Then she seemed to become suspicious again after looking at the Purveyor. “And who are you? Show me your arm.”
“I’m no monk, ma’am, if that’s your concern. I’m just a traveler helping Nala.” He had taken off his Fringe crest beforehand, so his extended arm was bare.
Mrs. Harvellian looked to Nala, who nodded in confirmation. She was comforted by Nala’s words but still looked reticent to talk. “Nala, I know you, and I thought you were a decent girl, but I hear you were cast out…as a naustic?”
“I’m not a naustic, I assure you, if Matteo’s grace is good. I can’t say why I was branded one, though. I can tell you that Sebastian has been treated unjustly, more unjustly than I. Your son is innocent, Mrs. Harvellian.”
Mrs. Harvellian bowed her head slightly, then looked sad, lost in thought. When she returned to their conversation, a look of pleading transfigured her. “Can you help Sebastian? I know these accusations must be wrong, but he has no one to help him.” Anguish lurked behind her feeble expression.
Nala smiled and nodded. “I’ll do my best, but I don’t know where he is. Do you know where a good friend might find him?”
Mrs. Harvellian said, “I fear he has gone far, far away. I heard that the monks were pursuing him all the way up in northern Thelonia. The last person he spoke with nearby was the old beggar Deacon—from the downtown square. I have spoken with him, with Deacon, a few times since then, and he said Sebastian was looking for some unknown truth. I think—even though I know it makes him sound like the crazed man they say he is—he might be going to the Snail Mountains. Deacon said he told him about an old Book of Canons, the oldest book, up in the mountains. Sebastian always wanted to be like his father, to go on a quest, so maybe he’s there. I hope that he finds it. I hope he finds what he’s looking for…” Mrs. Harvellian trailed off in the midst of internal reflection.
“There’s no chance he could be somewhere else? Somewhere closer?”
“I don’t think so. If he’s alive, I think that’s where he’s going.”
The three of them stood on the doorstep for a moment in awkward silence, looking at one another but not finding any words. When it seemed no more was to be said, Nala made to leave. “Thank you, Mrs. Harvellian. I hope we can find him.”
Mrs. Harvellian’s eyes were misty with grief. “If you do, tell him that I love him.” She looked out at the street, embarrassed, then rushed to close the door on them. Before it shut completely, Nala heard her say, “May Matteo’s grace be with you.”
They could hear her break down behind the door, crying for her lost son.
What they’d learned wasn’t promising, and it was the only real lead they had on Sebastian’s whereabouts. If Mrs. Harvellian was right, not only was Sebastian far away, but he was in a war-torn region, being chased by Matagon Monks, maybe even climbing the Snail Mountains.
As they retreated back out under the crescent moon that marked the threshold of the estate, the Purveyor said, “I’m sorry, Nala. You did your best to try.”
“I’m not finished yet. We’ve only been gone for two days.”
The Purveyor’s head retreated in surprise. “But what can you do with the remaining five? At best Sebastian is lost or in hiding in a remote part of Thelonia. It could take more than a week to get there. For all we know, he’s dead. Nala, we tried, but it doesn’t look like it will work out. Please show me the ruin, and then I will be sure to provide you with meaningful work for the remainder of your indenture.”
“No.”
The Purveyor’s eyes narrowed like they did when he was frustrated. “We had a deal, Nala. I stand by my word. Do you? Please don’t make me do things I don’t want to do.”
This time Nala thought he might be serious, but she pressed on. “Our deal was one week, so we’ll go and look for him for the rest of the week. We’ll head due west. He may be on his way back.”
“Nala, this is pointless. That would waste not only the balance of this week but likely the next one returning to Albondo. It’s of crucial importance that we harvest the silverstone soon.”
“Why? What’s so important that it can’t wait two weeks?”
The Purveyor concentrated carefully on which words to use. “Nala, you know of the Internecion, or what we Fringe call the Cleansing. For the Fringe, it’s our greatest fear. We must have the silverstone in advance of the Cleansing.”
“I don’t get it.” She shrugged.
“Groups may look to target the Fringe. No, not just target, to rid the world of the Fringe. We must protect ourselves. In some cases we can go into hiding. We will also try to defend what little territory we have in places like Niknak. But our best chance is to negotiate to make sure we aren’t…on their list. For this we need money or, preferably, silverstone to barter.”
“What list? Are you crazy? No one cares about you Fringe. Maybe if you were helping the Jawhari or the Sambayans, then you would be in for it. Why are you so paranoid? In Belidor the Sandaliers never talk much about the Internecion. Aside from a few skirmishes with the real zealots, I doubt much will happen.”
The Purveyor shook his head. “You’re wrong Nala, and by the way, the Sandaliers may be changing their positions after the polarization that is occurring following the Day of Ascendancy. We Fringe have our scouts. I hear reports of how they talk about a great cleansing. They often speak of the Jawhari or Sambayans in the same sentence. Since we stand in the way of Jawhar in Niknak, this is a real threat to us. But even though these are grave concerns, there are even greater ones, and more pressing.”
What was he talking about if not a Jawhari-Belidoran conflict? Nala refused to let his words twist her in knots. “More pressing? Like what?” she asked.
The Purveyor seemed pained for a moment, his eyes downcast. They had arrived back to where their horses were tied. He stopped her before they mounted them, cradling her hand with his palm. “Nala, the world isn’t as it seems. You don’t have to belie
ve everything I say, but believe this and act upon it. For us Fringe, we need this silverstone as soon as possible to buy our right to live. It’s that simple. I will do whatever is in my power to make this happen.”
The Purveyor seemed sincere, even if he might be deluded or paranoid. More importantly, Nala doubted he was bluffing. Pushing her demands too far could backfire.
“How about this,” she said after a moment in contemplation. “If I show you where the ruin is, will you come with me to find Sebastian afterward?”
The Purveyor looked exasperated but half-relieved. He thought on the subject for a few precious moments, then sighed and said, “Even though I think it’s pointless to find your friend, and dangerous as well, if you lead me to the silverstone ruin and we can exploit it, I will go with you. Yes, Nala.”
Nala didn’t know whether he would be true to his word, but there was no other choice in her mind. Perhaps more importantly, she suspected that the Purveyor was being much nicer than he could have been. Judging by what had happened to Gun-shi at Round Top, she knew there was another side to this man that could be much colder.
“It’s a deal, then. Let’s go to the ruin,” she said happily.
The Purveyor eyed her wearily as he mounted his horse.
Chapter 16
The Jailor
The voyage went on, and on, and on. They had been aboard for two weeks, often at the whim of the fickle elements.
A few days back it seemed as if it was finally going to end, but they had to change their plan. Krish and another Fringe man took a skiff into the Belidoran port of Esienne to see if it would be safe to dock, while the Winter Solstice stayed out of sight of land. When they returned Krish said there were sketches of Hella up all over the city and the inspectors were looking for her. They concluded it would be best to land somewhere else.
So the next stop was Thelos, all the way on the opposite side of the Great Ocean from Managash. Krish argued that they had more Fringe support there. He said there was also a Pomerian embassy in Thelos that could help keep Hella safe.
