The Gift

by Bryan M. Litfin

  If she’s still alive . . .

  Ana had been trapped underground for . . . how long now? More than thirty-six hours, Teo realized. By the time he arrived it would be the morning of Ana’s third day in the hole. Her thirst would be agonizing. Her body would be wasted. Teo winced and cried out. The thought of Ana’s suffering was more than he could bear. Please, Deu, just let her live!

  As Teo rode south toward the capital of Likuria, he couldn’t escape the fears that attacked him. Though he worried Ana might have died from thirst or exposure, he knew those weren’t the only dangers. If she somehow removed the stopper he’d placed in the trapdoor, she would plunge down the clean-out shaft into the sea. Ana’s body would be broken on the jagged rocks that thrust from the foamy waves.

  Teo had intended to knock out the stopper himself while holding onto a rope for safety. However, when he went back to the oubliette to set it up, he found no secure anchor point for the rope. Changing his original plan, he decided that once he was in the oubliette, he would affix the rope to the chain that lowered the prisoners. The chain was securely attached to a winch above, and the new solution would have worked nicely—except Anastasia had gone down the hole instead of him. Teo berated himself for letting that happen.

  It should have been me! Why did you do it, Ana?

  The twisting course of events had thrown Teo into confusion. His mind felt jumbled. All he could do was rush to Manacho as fast as possible. He knew severe anguish might be in store for him, yet as he rode along he reminded himself to trust Deu. Deep inside Teo believed things would turn out well. Ana would be found, weakened but alive, in the oubliette. Then he would whisk her away from Likuria forever.

  Dawn had just started to break when Teo arrived at Manacho’s northern gate. No one was awake yet as he rode through the quiet streets toward the waterfront. The bandits had told him to leave the horse at a certain tavern, and Teo didn’t bother to tie it up when he arrived. Somebody would attend to the spent animal. He left the tavern yard and crept to the marina. Untying a rowboat, he pushed it away from the wharf. The stolen craft had the insignia of the coast guard on it. Teo figured the Kingdom of Likuria owed him a whole lot more than a leaky boat.

  As Teo approached the seaside cliffs, his heart began beating rapidly, and not from the exertion of pulling the oars. He realized the moment of truth had arrived: would Anastasia be alive up there in the oubliette? He prayed for the thousandth time he’d find her clinging to life in the oppressive hole. Drawing near the foot of the cliff beneath the courthouse, he glanced at the rocks but saw no corpse floating among them. Thank you, Deu!

  Teo dropped anchor and dived into the chilly waters. The sheer stone face loomed above him as he swam to the place where the climbing rope had been fixed to the wall. And then Teo spotted something he didn’t want to see.

  A knotted cord floated in the water, tangled in some boulders. It was the safety rope he had left in the oubliette to be tied off to the chain. If it had been used for escape, it should still be fastened above. Yet there it was, floating among the rocks like a deadly snake.

  No.

  This isn’t happening.

  There has to be another explanation!

  With dangerous abandon Teo scrambled to the climbing rope that dangled a short distance above his head. He ascended to the entrance of the clean-out shaft in the rock wall. Slipping inside the tunnel, he wormed his way upward, leaving the morning light behind.

  “Ana! Are you there? Can you hear me?” His shouts echoed off the walls but received no response. Using the notches carved in the floor, he crawled up the shaft until it became vertical. Everything was dark. “Ana!” he yelled again. He was at the bottom of the oubliette. If Ana was alive, she should be able to hear him. Perhaps she was too weak to respond.

  Teo stretched upward and groped around with his hand. Nothing. He reached even higher, feeling for the trapdoor, but encountered only empty space. Agonized, he extended his hand toward the wall on his left.

  His fingertips touched wood.

  It was the trapdoor, hanging down.

  Ana had opened it. With no safety rope.

  Teo’s mind recoiled, and he uttered a groan he could not suppress. As he inched back down the tunnel, he recalled his own precarious descent when he had been knocked loose and went sliding down the incline. Only a quick grab of the climbing rope outside had prevented a smashing impact on the rocks below.

  Maybe Ana did the same?

  Teo tried to convince himself it was true, though subconsciously he knew she couldn’t have managed the feat in her fragile state. She didn’t even know the rope was there. The cold, hard facts were beginning to force Teo toward an unthinkable conclusion. Like an oubliette of his own, he was trapped by a logic he could not escape.

  Down in the water again, Teo looked at the shaft’s entrance far above. Too far? Maybe not! Maybe Ana fell in just the right place . . . clung to a rock to rest . . . swam away to the shore. Even though she was weakened and chained up, she could do that!

  It’s possible! Yes, entirely possible!

  Aghast, Teo stared at the rocky fangs in the ocean’s gaping mouth. He shook his head. No, it isn’t possible at all. The realization hit him like a blow to his gut.

  “Ana, where are you? It’s Teo! I’ve come for you!”

  He shouted the words and began to swim around, his movements growing frantic as he felt his mind lose touch with reality. Everything seemed like a dream. At any moment he imagined Ana would rise from behind a boulder and reach out to him. He called her name over and over, becoming more hysterical with each shout.

  Finally, exhausted from the all-night ride and the frigid waters, he hauled himself onto a rock and sprawled there like a dead man. The wind chilled his body, but he didn’t care. Nothing mattered. Nothing mattered at all.

  Teo’s gaze fell on an object floating nearby. The wave action at the base of the cliff didn’t carry things away but pressed them close to the face, often wedging them into a crevice. Teo slipped into the water and retrieved the object. It was a peasant’s shoe—the kind Ana had been made to wear in the courtroom. The sight of it made Teo’s stomach lurch and at the same time triggered a memory.

  “Ooh, that water’s cold,” Ana said, giggling as she dipped her toes.

  “But isn’t it refreshing?”

  “You tell me.” She spritzed lake water onto him with her bare foot.

  The reminiscence of that day at the inn on the mountain pass rushed into Teo’s mind as he contemplated the empty shoe. He and Ana had reclined side by side in the warm sun, laughing and rejoicing that her infected hip had finally healed.

  But that day was a distant memory now. Ana was gone.

  Forever and always, she was gone.

  The days that followed the discovery of the empty oubliette were as dark and dreadful as the hole itself. A cold rain settled onto Likuria, matching Teo’s dreary mood. He had often feared for Ana’s safety when she encountered mortal danger, yet in those cases he never doubted that by some daring action he could find her, rescue her, shield her, defend her. Now, with the awful realization that she was dead, Teo was forced to embark on a new journey—a journey not of finding, but of letting go. It was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life.

  At first Teo defiantly refused to give up hope. He clung to it like a castaway sailor grasping a piece of flotsam during a storm at sea. For a week he lurked around the shoreline, staying out of sight with the hood of an old cloak pulled over his head. Most nights he slept on the beach. Once he dreamed Ana climbed out of the water like a mermaid in a seaman’s tale. It was a glorious dream, and it soothed his pain—until, while still asleep, he became aware that he was dreaming and the illusion dissolved. Teo had awakened then, and only the bottle of cheap liquor on the sand beside him enabled him to find any rest.

  After seven days Teo finally stopped denying what he knew to be true. He had heard no news in the taverns about the notorious female criminal being washed ashore, b
edraggled but alive. No sailors were gossiping about a forlorn woman they had plucked from the sea. Could she have made it to safety on her own? Even a fit person would have found it difficult to swim from the base of the cliffs to the nearest beach, much less a person with severe injuries caused by falling against the rocks. The conclusion was unavoidable: Ana had plunged to her death in a watery grave.

  As Teo’s denial gave way to anger, he balled his fists and shook them at Deu, knowing it was wrong, yet unable to refrain. “What purpose could you have in taking her from me?” he screamed. “You’re cruel! You’re weak! I hate you!” Though Teo shouted and raged and spat out curses, the mute sky gave no response to his appalling blasphemies.

  On the morning of the eighth day, the Midnight Glider appeared offshore. Teo dragged his stolen rowboat from under some torn fishing nets and miscellaneous debris. It didn’t take him long to launch the boat and draw near the clipper ship.

  “Cease rowing and show yourself!” The voice from the deck was stern and commanding. Teo saw a row of crossbowmen pointing their weapons at him. He raised his hands and held them up, palms outward.

  “I seek passage,” he called.

  “We’re taking no one aboard. Be off!”

  “What about a passenger who’s already paid?”

  The question seemed to confuse the men on the ship. Some lowered their crossbows, and the speaker hesitated before replying, “Who are you then?”

  “Tell your captain I’m his friend from the fight at the Rusty Anchor.”

  A man was sent, and soon Marco appeared at the rail. “Teofil? Is that you?”

  Teo removed his hood and stood up in the boat. “So you thought you could sail away with my fare, eh, pirate?”

  Marco laughed, his white teeth bright against his black goatee. “Throw him a rope,” he said to one of his men.

  In Marco’s stateroom, Teo relaxed on a padded window seat with a glass of gin. Alcohol in its many forms had become his best friend of late.

  “You look terrible,” Marco said.

  Teo shrugged.

  “You want me to take you to Nuo Genov?”

  “I suppose. A friend of mine is looking after my stuff there. My sword, my ax, my cloak. And some books,” he added.

  “You can get it all tomorrow.”

  Teo grunted, then knocked back his gin in a single swallow.

  The city of Nuo Genov sparkled in all its marbled glory as the ship approached late the next day, but its beauty left a bitter taste in Teo’s mouth. He went ashore with his hood pulled low, an alien sojourner in a land not his own. A series of winding alleys and staircases brought him up the city’s flanks to its outskirts away from the seafront. After another quarter hour of walking, Teo reached the property of the widow whose cottage he had rented. He wondered how much Sol knew about all that had happened. The urgent circumstances of Ana’s arrest had not allowed Teo to return to the cottage, but news of the king’s death and the subsequent trial was on everyone’s lips. Surely Sol had heard about it.

  As Teo approached the cottage, he found himself disturbed by its unkempt appearance. Sol always liked to keep the porch swept and the bird feeders filled with seed, but now the place had the conspicuous look of an abandoned building. When Teo drew close and found Sol’s basket lying overturned in the dirt, he rushed to the house and threw open the door.

  “Sol? It’s Teofil! Are you here?” The place was small. Teo realized right away it was empty and had been for many days. He ran back outside.

  Teo’s training as an army scout enabled him to read a story from tracks in the earth. Though this particular story was over two weeks old and obscured now, Teo could piece it together nonetheless. Sol had dropped his basket to flee an attack. He had broken several branches in his haste to escape into the underbrush. A scuffle had taken place, then men had departed on horses. The most logical conclusion was that the Exterminati had caught up with Sol. His body wasn’t lying nearby, which meant he hadn’t been murdered by thieves or attacked by wild animals. He had been carried away as a captive, and only the shamans were in the business of abduction.

  Teo hung his head and pounded a fist against a tree. First Ana . . . now Sol! Both had looked to him for protection, and he had promised to provide it, yet failed. Teo felt utterly defeated. The Exterminati had won.

  Despondent, he entered the cottage and plopped into a chair. Everything was still in its place, a sure sign the attackers weren’t petty criminals. Teo reached over to his sword and slid it from its sheath. The blade glittered as it caught the evening sunlight. The sword was legendary in Chiveis, having belonged to Ana’s grandfather, Armand. What would that heroic and noble warrior think of the man who now bore the weapon—a man so powerless he couldn’t even protect two people entrusted to his care? Teo shoved the sword back into its scabbard in disgrace.

  Deu, are you still there? My spirit is broken. I’m at the end of everything. What should I do? Teo didn’t have an answer, and none was forthcoming, so he let himself fall into a restless doze.

  The sound of an approaching horse woke him. Teo bolted from the chair and scooped up his sword in a single motion. Stepping lightly to the window, he peeked out. A woman in a long, elegant cloak dismounted and went to the front of the cottage. Though it wasn’t raining or cold, she wore her hood over her head. Teo crossed to the door and heard a knock just as he reached for the handle. He opened the door.

  A woman’s beautiful face stared back at him. Her beauty wasn’t glamorous, for she wore no makeup, and in fact her face was dirty. Yet the perfection of her classic features couldn’t be missed even without adornment. She gazed at Teo with mournful eyes, her face framed by the emerald-green hood that draped along her cheeks. Slowly she put her hands to the hood and laid it back on her shoulders. Teo did a double take. The woman’s head had been shaved close to her scalp, though it now sprouted a short blonde fuzz. In the same moment that Teo realized she was the stranger who had paid the bandits to help him, he also recognized who she was: Vanita Labella, the highborn daughter of an Ulmbartian duke.

  “Hello, Vanita. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “The pirate who gave you passage said I’d find you here. Do you have a moment? There are some things I need to say.”

  Teo backed away from the door. “Sure. Come in.” He shut the door behind Vanita and took her cloak, hanging it on a peg. When he turned around, he was surprised to see the woman kneeling in front of him.

  “I must beg your forgiveness, Teofil.” Vanita’s head was bowed. “I have sinned against you, and I’m truly sorry.”

  “Vanita . . . I . . . um . . .” Teo broke off, not sure what to say.

  She looked up at him. “I dismissed you. Scorned you. Tried to separate you from Anastasia. I thought you weren’t good enough for her. Now I see it was I who lacked goodness.”

  Teo sighed. “Whatever you did doesn’t matter anymore. Anastasia is gone, so in the end we’re separated regardless.”

  As he stared at Vanita’s face, Teo was startled to see tears well up. The sight of those tears made moisture gather in Teo’s own eyes, but he scrunched his face in resistance to his emotions. Quickly he turned away with a fist pressed against his lips. “I forgive you, Vanita, if that’s what you want,” he said after he regained control of himself.

  Vanita rose and approached Teo, laying her hand on his arm with a gentle touch. He faced her, unsure if she wanted to cry on his shoulder, or seduce him, or beg further absolution from him like a priest. Vanita did none of those things but simply asked a question. “What now, Teofil?”

  He swore bitterly, staring at his feet. “I have no idea.”

  “I know what to do.”

  Teo raised his head. “What?”

  “Honor Anastasia.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Since this great woman is lost, and you and I both realize her worth, we owe it to her memory to honor her.”

  “How?”

  Vanita gripped Teo’s sleeve
and locked her eyes on his. “If anyone knows the answer to that, it’s you.”

  Teo spun away, his thoughts suddenly clear for the first time in days. He gazed out the window at the distant ocean. Of course you know what Ana would want! You sat across the table from her at Fisherman’s Isle! You swore an oath to her, an oath to find the New Testament and bring salvation to the Chiveisi. Why are you moping around like a petulant little boy? Is this how Ana would act? Is your behavior worthy of the dignity and courage she displayed when she laid down her life? She did that because she understood Deu had called you to this task! Ana saw it and loved you for it. Honor her memory by fulfilling her heart’s desire!

  Turning back to Vanita, Teo regarded the penitent woman with a mixture of anguish and hope—anguish because his grief was still raw and hope because he had finally found a way to overcome his grief with a noble task. He felt grateful to Vanita for her bold exhortation. She had snapped him out of his despondency and had given him an overriding purpose.

  “You’re right, Vanita,” he said. “Thank you.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Honoring Anastasia will take me to a city far away. The place is called Roma, and Deu’s book can be found only there.”

  “Then pack up your things,” Vanita answered, “because I’m going with you. This is the beginning of my new life as well as yours.”

  Teo felt the Midnight Glider start to move as he lay in his hammock below deck. The sailors had been readying the vessel since before dawn. Now that the sun was up, the anchor had been weighed and the ship had hoisted some sail. The destination was the place Teo had heard so much about over the past few months: mysterious Roma, a city known only to the long-distance merchants and the pirates who preyed on them. Roma was the key to everything. There Teo hoped to meet the Papa, the leader of the Universal Communion, whose servants scoured the earth in search of the New Testament. Teo would help him find it. The lost book of Deu would tell the story of Iesus Christus, the Pierced One who died in his service to the Promised King.