by John Brown
“Concerned?” said Da. “I’m mortally concerned. But not about hatchlings. Nobody knows that the woman they’ve caged is Sleth. There was no Seeker, no proving.”
“What I heard,” said Nettle, “was that she moved with unnatural speed.”
“Things are perceived differently in battle. When your mind is tinged with fear, the foe’s strength and speed and ferocity are always exaggerated. But let’s assume the worst. Let’s assume she did move with power. She might have been wearing a weave. Did you think of that?”
“That’s treason right there,” said Talen.
“Is it?” asked Da. “A weave bestowed by some Koramite Divine to her family a century ago?”
“It is if she didn’t bring it forth.”
“But that’s different from Slethwork, isn’t it? It’s a legitimate weave, outlawed not because it’s evil, but because it might pose a threat to the current oppressors.”
Talen sighed. Da never had anything good to say about Divines. Talen remembered when he was a child and had learned “The Six Paths” from a friend’s mother. The poem described the different orders of Divines. He came home excited to perform and began to recite the poem with the appropriate actions.
The Fire Wizards harvest.
The Kains forge and store.
The Skir Masters ride the powers with traps and ancient lore.
At this point in the poem, Da’s face began to sour, but Talen had thought it was because he’d done something wrong. He continued trying his best to remember the hand movements.
The Guardians live like dragons.
The Green Ones heal the dead.
And the Glories rule o’r them all with centuries in their heads.
Da had clapped in a perfunctory way. “You’re a sharp one, for sure,” he’d said. “And such a sharp mind needs to be kept that way.” Then he’d made Talen learn a poem he’d never heard before. It was long and started with a traveler visiting a tavern.
The Host spreads his table then calls with honeyed charm:
A steaming loaf of Ignorance to keep your belly warm,
An unending keg of Fear to turn your wit to froth,
And tender cuts of poisoned Pride to turn your gentle heart.
The poem continued, describing two companions, one who takes the host’s offer and another who refuses. The first one is treated with firmness but kindness and put out, like a steer to pasture, to enjoy the gardens, orchards, and plenitudes of the vale. The second faces privation and a multitude of dangers trying to get his friend to leave. In the end, he fails, and the first one, the one who trusted the smiling host, is brought forth for butchering. The second makes a brave attempt to rescue him from his captors, but fails, barely escaping with his life. Powerless, he watches from afar as the mighty inhabitants of that awful vale kill, roast, and then serve his friend up on platters for a community feast.
It was a long poem, but the story was so fascinating Talen memorized it in less than a day. At first, Talen thought Da made him memorize it because he’d wanted to challenge, and thereby increase, Talen’s mental skills. But after he’d learned it, he began to consider the story and see it was a moral tale, teaching how a man could be self-reliant and wise. For a long time he thought that was Da’s purpose in making him memorize it.
But as he grew older, Talen began to suspect Da had planted that poem in him for another reason altogether. There were six families in that vale that seemed to correspond to the six paths of the Divine. The butchering was performed during the annual Festival of Gifts, which is when the Divines asked for the annual sacrifices. The name of the host meant the same thing as the name of the first Glory of ancient times. As he grew, Talen found many more connections between the inhabitants of that vale and the six paths.
It was as if Da had planted that poem in him so that it might bring forth, in its due time, a suspicion of all things Divine. But why?
He’d once asked Da what it all meant and if it was indeed his purpose to bring forth such a fruit, but Da only shrugged and said it was only an old poem he’d learned as a child. Talen tried to detect prevarication in Da’s answer, but found none. Nevertheless, he knew Da was hiding something.
Talen had known two Divines in his life. Lumen and the Green Beggar. Lumen looked down upon the Koramites. But the Green Beggar went around healing people and teaching them the paths to joy. He refused all authority. Refused pomp, choosing instead to live in a log hut he made himself. He leased land to farm, established a following, and had done nothing but bless goats and vegetable gardens. Three years ago he’d sailed away, waving good-bye to the throngs of his “fellows” standing on the docks. Many still wore the green shoulder patch that marked his followers.
“What about the Green Beggar?” asked Talen. “He would have spoken out against the Sleth woman’s use of the weave.”
“What about him?” asked Ke. “The Goat King, the Witch of Cathay, the Scarlet Tiger, they were all once Glories of great nations. Benefactors. Who can say what the Green Beggar’s real purpose was?”
Talen knew all the stories about Glories who had gone mad and eaten the souls of those they ruled. Divines had all once been men. Men who were raised to wield the powers of life and become almost immortal. But those tales were of Divines who had succumbed to the whisperings of Regret, the Creator who when he had seen what he and the other six Creators had wrought, wanted to destroy it and begin anew. They were stories of Divines who lost the favor of the Six.
“What if Lumen himself ate souls?” asked Da. “Who would have known it? Nobody. Isn’t that a greater horror than some farmer’s wife who uses a little weave to bless her and her family?”
“But the power doesn’t come from the same source,” said Talen. “It’s like comparing an ale brewed using pure water with another made using swamp scum. They may look the same from a distance, but in the mouth they’re night and day.”
Nettle eyed the woods. “Are we sure we want to talk about this out here?”
“I’ll tell you what I think,” said Da. “I don’t think this has anything to do with magic. I think this is nothing more than a bunch of cowards worried about their cattle and land.”
“You don’t believe the reports?”
“I believe that men see what they want to see. And what they saw was a Koramite smith who was richer than any seven of them combined.”
Talen had seen his father’s judgment blinded before by his pride and anger. And even though it grated, the Mokaddians weren’t always in the wrong. “Maybe all you choose to see is the wrongs done to our people. To admit that one of us was evil would spoil your arguments. Wouldn’t it be better to cut out the corrupted part than let it ruin the rest of us?”
“This is why we need a Divine protecting our shores,” said Nettle.
They all looked at him.
Nettle had brought his bowl outside. He stuffed a large spoonful of porridge in his mouth. “A mere human cannot hope to unravel such mysteries.”
“That’s true,” said Ke. “But you don’t need one to know there’s no greater risk now than there was before. Let’s say Talen is right. It is no more dangerous to walk about now than it was yesterday or the day before. If there are Sleth lurking about, they were there before.”
“What kind of logic is that?” asked Talen. “If you find out there are wildcats in the woods, then you take precautions. You don’t assume they pose no danger.”
“Ah,” said Ke, “but if the wildcats always kept to themselves, are they really a danger now? Perhaps a hunt will only corner them and make them fight.”
“Yes,” said Talen. “But wildcats don’t murder whole families and devour their souls.”
“Maybe Talen’s right,” said Da. “We should take precautions. But this all leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The Fir-Noy had no authority to organize a hunt in the village of Plum. That band of armsmen today had no authority to hunt here. So even if there are Sleth, there are far more Fir-Noy eager to run a Koramite through.”<
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“We need to post a watch,” said Talen.
“Aye,” said Da. “There’s bound to be more than one group of idiots in the woods.”
There were more than idiots in the woods, and Talen knew it. He was going to catch whoever had been lurking about. Normally, you only masked your scent when trapping animals, but it was possible that the hatchlings had eaten the souls of some beast in an attempt to obtain its finer sense of smell. He did not have days to let the snare weather, nor did he have any urine or gall from the last deer he’d killed to mask his and Nettle’s scent, so Talen led Nettle into the fading light, down to a swampy bend in the river. He found a spot where there was plenty of rotting vegetation and dug out a pail full of mud.
By the time they hiked back up the bank and to the run between the barn and the garden, it was dark. Da had shuttered up the windows against the evening insects, and so they only had starlight and a half-moon to guide them. Talen had wanted to wait until dark so the hatchlings wouldn’t be able to see much of what they were doing. Now he wondered if he had enough light to set the snare properly.
First, they pushed the wheelbarrow and eight empty barley sacks out to the cross-post fence of the mule pasture. A long mound of stones, taken from the field, stretched along the base of the fence. They doubled the sacks and then filled them with enough stones to equal the weight of a large man. Then they pushed the sacks back and into the barn underneath the pulley that allowed them to lift loads up to the barn loft and bound all four sacks together.
Next, they pushed the empty wheelbarrow out to the run between the garden and the barn. They set it next to the side of the barn and angled it out into the path in such a way that it would direct someone walking here to step right into the trap.
They dug some beets and carrots, complaining loudly about having to work in the dark as punishment for fighting earlier with Ke and River. Then Talen announced that he would leave the vegetables just inside the garden gate and finish in the morning. Anyone listening in the woods would have heard and known a meal was waiting in the garden.
Then he and Nettle coated their hands, the noose, and trigger pegs with the mud.
Nettle disappeared into the barn. A few moments later, he opened the loft doors. Talen threw him the end of his rope and waited until Nettle had fed it through the outside pulley to the one that hung above the stones.
When Talen heard Nettle’s soft whistle, he knew Nettle had fastened the end to the sack of stones, and he began to pull. Both he and Nettle had to work to lift the stones aloft. When they’d finally lifted them to the pulley crane inside the barn, Talen began his work. He set the noose and trigger line and pegs.
Talen had caught deer with counterweight snares before. It was possible that the noose would grab a leg, but it also might tighten up around the neck. If all worked well, they’d have a hatchling before dawn. Of course, a real deer might trip it as well. But Talen didn’t think so. The dogs were usually very good at chasing most things off.
And that reminded him: the dogs would have to come in. This trap could very easily choke and kill one of them. He went to where Blue lay then picked him up and carried him back to the house.
A double-spout lamp burned on the table. Da held the wastebasket to the edge of the table and brushed wood shavings into it. He’d been working on a rose carved in cherrywood. A soft light from one lamp spilled from River’s room. Ke sat at the edge of the light rubbing sheep’s tallow into his boots.
Queen went to Da silently, wagging her tail and asking for attention.
Da looked up. “I don’t want the dogs in here.”
“I’ll keep them in the loft with me,” said Talen. “Blue won’t rest if we keep them outside.”
“Huh,” Da grunted. He motioned at a harness of parade bells. “Ke’s going to take first watch. He’s going to string a line around the property. That line will be rigged to these bells. Anyone trips that line and we’ll hear it.”
“And where’s Ke going to be?”
“Outside the door in the shadows of the house,” said Ke.
“What were you doing out there?” asked Da.
“Nothing,” said Talen.
“You were doing something.”
Talen glanced at Nettle and back at Da. Talen knew he’d make them take down the snare. “We were just talking.”
“Huh,” Da grunted again. But he turned back to his carving.
Talen took Blue, and all four of them went upstairs.
Nettle suggested they string their bows. They wouldn’t have much time to get downstairs and out into the yard. It wasn’t good to leave a bow strung, but in this case Talen thought it was best. They leaned the bows and the quivers against the wall and lay down in their narrow beds. The dogs came over and licked Talen’s face until he told them to settle down.
The light coming up the stairs diminished. Someone scraped open River’s tin candlesave and closed it. She loved the smell of beeswax and herbs, even if it did cost more than oil or tallow. But the mice loved beeswax so the candles had to be put beyond their nibbling. Soon the light from downstairs disappeared altogether.
Talen heard Da go outside and draw up water from the well then come back in and retire to his room. The house quieted and Talen heard an owl hoot outside.
He lay on his bed unable to sleep. He waited for what seemed a long time, staring at the ceiling.
A jingle sounded from below.
“Nettle,” Talen said.
“I heard it,” said Nettle.
Another small jingle, then one big one.
Talen and Nettle fairly flew down the stairs in the dark. Nettle slipped on the narrow steps at the bottom and crashed into Talen. They would have both sprawled out onto the floor, but Talen held onto the railing and swung into the wall instead.
“Ho!” said Talen. “The alarm!”
There was laughter in the darkness. One small candle ignited at the table. There was Da, holding a glowing piece of tinder, shaking so hard he almost knocked the candle over. River sat next to him holding her sides.
Da grabbed the alarm, gave it a good shake, and laughed even harder.
“Just testing your speed, son. Just testing your speed.”
Ke stood in the doorway of his room, grinning like an idiot.
Da! He was worse than River. “What are you looking at?” said Talen.
That only set all three of them to laughing again.
Nettle wore a half grin on his face.
“Come on,” Talen said to him and marched back upstairs.
When he’d lain down again, there was another jingle.
“Hoy,” he heard Da say from below. “Sleep well, son.”
Da would find crickets in his boots this week. And next week, he’d sink to the ground while sleeping with loose bed ropes. And then it would be Talen’s turn to laugh.
He heard three more jingles and laughter, then Da called up a good night.
Talen knew what Da was doing-he was trying to relax them, just as he did his bowmen when they went into battle. All of which meant that Da was taking this very seriously indeed. Maybe Da was concerned about Sleth after all. Maybe all of his arguing against the Fir-Noy was just a way to help them keep cool heads. This comforted Talen, and he suddenly found he could close his eyes for sleep.
14
FUGITIVES
Shouts jolted Talen out of bed.
“Hold,” Ke said from below. “Identify yourself.” There was no joking in his voice now.
Talen grabbed his bow in the darkness. This time when he and Nettle reached the bottom of the stairs, the door stood open and Ke had his own bow drawn, pointing it out at something in the moonlit yard.
“Zu,” the soldier said. “We are part of the barbican watch. I bring Captain Argoth’s summons.”
The moon had risen and Talen could see one man wearing a helm and a chain mail shirt standing outside. Men and horses stood behind him.
Talen’s first thought was of the armsmen they’d bea
ten earlier. But there were no Fir-Noy markings on the soldiers he could see. Only Shoka. This soldier’s wrist also bore the tattoo weave of Shoka bull horns. But, then, it had been Shoka that had beaten him at the village. Talen nocked an arrow and looked to the shuttered window at the back of the main room.
“What’s this about?” asked Da.
“You know the Sleth woman?” the soldier asked.
“You’re referring to Purity, the smith’s wife?”
The soldier said nothing.
“Yes, I know Purity.”
“You are summoned to be in Whitecliff within the hour.”
“For what cause?” asked Da.
“Captain Argoth wants help interrogating her. I can only suppose he thinks a Koramite might win her trust.”
Ke pitched his voice low. “It’s a trap,” he said.
“Only a fool rides at night,” said Da.
“We’ve got a moon,” the soldier said. “And we will escort you back.”
“That’s not enough assurance.”
“No,” said the soldier. “But this should be.” He withdrew a linen handkerchief from his waist pouch and held it out for Da to take.
Da took it. It had embroidery upon one of its corners-three trees and red circle underneath. It was Uncle Argoth’s sign.
Da took in and held it to his nose. “Spearmint,” he said.
Uncle Argoth loved spearmint, planted it around his house, carried it with him. Talen lowered his bow.
Da sighed. “Let me saddle my mule.”
“We have a mount.”
“Moon or no, I’ll trust my own, thank you.”
Da turned to Nettle. “Your father, it seems, can’t wait until morning.” Then he turned back to his room to dress. “Ke, get Iron Boy saddled up.”
Ke pulled on his pants, lit a lamp, and walked outside. The saddle was in the barn, but Talen didn’t think Ke would notice the trap. A minute later, he changed his mind and walked past the messenger to warn Ke.
But before he passed the well, he heard Ke call out. “What’s this?”
“Ke!” called Talen. “Don’t touch anything.”
