Broken in Twilight

by Kim ten Tusscher

  The cloud drifted in the direction of the earthen buildings of Hatunsum. It wasn’t long before the people of this town noticed the dragon. Kasimirh could hear their alarmed cries. He focused on one of the houses on the edge of the town. Seconds later, flames were devouring its wall.

  After Kasimirh had slowly let the cloud disappear, he followed the cart track into the town. The townspeople were working hard to extinguish the flames, but the buildings of straw and clay were an easy prey for the fire. Soon, the fire spread to adjacent houses. Kasimirh turned right, onto a narrow path threading its way along the houses. The houses hid the flames from view, but the penetrating smell of fire was still noticeable. Kasimirh felt content and smiled as he knocked on the door of a huge building, the only one in town that was made out of stone.

  A young woman opened the door. Kasimirh asked to speak to the master of the house. The woman let him in, but motioned for him to wait in the hallway. As he waited, Kasimirh studied his surroundings. The interior was plain, because the people in this town were poor. The walls, however, were decorated with wooden panels portraying the Goddess Margal. Her hair and the embellishments on her clothes had been painted with gold leaf.

  It’s a pity that she isn’t burning like the houses down the road.

  Kasimirh smiled again at the thought of the devastating fire. Then the door opened and the woman asked him to follow her. This was probably one of the priest’s wives. From behind a door came the sound of more female voices. Somewhere, a baby was crying.

  Kasimirh was shown into the priest’s office. The man standing at the window was considerably younger than Kasimirh. He was observing the attempts of his worshippers to extinguish the fire. The windows were closed, but the smell of the fire nevertheless had managed to enter the house, and the shouting from the street could be heard. Just as Kasimirh crossed the threshold, the roof of one of the houses collapsed with a loud crack. The clergyman turned around. Before he could walk to the table, Kasimirh already stood next to him. It was better that the man could see the threat he wanted to talk to him about.

  The priest looked at him with worried eyes. “You’ve come at a bad time.”

  “On the contrary. I’ve come to talk about the fire and to tell you how something like this can be prevented in the future.”

  “Are you here to tell me that you attacked my town? What nerve then to walk into my house!”

  “Calm down, I didn’t set fire to your town. I’ve come to protect you from an even worse fate.”

  The priest frowned as he stared at the flames. The fire had spread, and now five houses were aflame. He shook his head with worry. “How are we going to accommodate the people who lived there?” he whispered to himself.

  Someone started to scream. Some flames had spread to the building where the supplies were stored. The priest sighed heavily. “Just what we need: another period of food shortage.”

  “I’m Kasimirh, servant of Jakob, the one True God.”

  The priest was offended and looked at him. “You mean that you’re a heathen?”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I always say exactly what I mean, so that there can be no misunderstandings. But tell me, why isn’t your Goddess doing anything to help you? Why are your lives filled with hardship? You’re always working hard to scrape a few bits of food together, but it’s barely enough. What did you do to incur your Goddess’s wrath? Why does She punish you by making water flow scarcely.”

  “Even under these circumstances we don’t question Margal, and for this we are rewarded after our death, because She will give us a place in Her kingdom. Poverty makes us humble and enables us to focus on the path of our religion. I admit that our lives are hard, but they’re nothing but a short journey to ultimate and everlasting bliss,” came the well-rehearsed answer.

  The priest turned around and sat down at the table. Kasimirh followed him. The man poured two glasses of wine.

  Kasimirh glanced at the man’s face. A face like many he had seen before. Most of Margal’s priests were lean, but they were never hollow-cheeked like their followers. Occasionally, Kasimirh encountered fat priests, which was a sign that he had come for nothing. Those priests didn’t care about their followers at all, and they had to pay the price with their lives. It was probably going to be a challenge to convince the priest sitting across from him, but in the end he too was going to understand that there was only one path for him to choose.

  “If there’s liberation in death, then why do you fight so hard to escape it? On the way here, I saw people doing everything in their power to rescue others from the flames.”

  The priest sipped his wine. “I don’t expect a heathen to understand that. But you mentioned that we can prevent fires like these in the future?”

  “It’s very simple. Where Margal merely observes in times of need, Jakob offers a helping hand. All you have to do is convert to Jakob and something like this won’t happen again.”

  “We serve the Goddess.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. Stones don’t catch fire as easily as huts made out of straw and clay. The hardship that befalls your followers isn’t felt within these walls. I understand that this is your choice, but can you also decide for others?”

  “Don’t imply that I’m indifferent! I’m touched by the suffering of my people. Their burdens torment me, and I’ve often searched for ways to make life more bearable.”

  “In that case, you should be happy that I’m here. I’m giving you the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”

  The priest didn’t respond.

  “I predict that the flames keep returning as long as you don’t convert yourselves. But I also understand now that you welcome death. I’d do the same if I didn’t know how beautiful life can be. Under Jakob, that is.”

  The priest squinted. “How do you know that the flames will return?”

  “I’ve seen it, and I can show you as well, if you’d like me to.”

  The man nodded reluctantly. Kasimirh pointed at the windows, and the orange glow disappeared. Sounds of everyday life came in through the windows. As a shadow passed over the streets, the volume of the noise increased. Reluctantly, the priest walked over to the windows. The flames flared up high in several places all over town and spread with devastating speed. Black plumes of smoke rose up. Kasimirh opened the windows. Toxic fumes entered the room, taking the priest’s breath away.

  “Please, make it stop,”

  “Where’s your faith now, dear fellow? You believe I have the gift to make this all stop and you oppose a reunion with your Goddess.”

  Coughing, the priest fell to his knees and stammered something unintelligible. With a wave of his hand, Kasimirh extinguished the fire and the room filled back up with clean air.

  “You’re a sorcerer!” the priest wheezed. There was loathing on his face.

  “So what? That doesn’t make me less than you. We sorcerers have been around much longer than your people, and we were created by order of God. Your gang can’t wipe us out.”

  “That was a long…”

  “That wasn’t long ago at all!” Kasimirh silenced him.

  The priest got up. “Have you come to take revenge?”

  “Revenge serves no purpose. It’s a downward spiral. I have far better things to do.”

  “Then why have you come?”

  “Like I said: to offer you a new life. Convert to Jakob and everything will be different.”

  “I believe you’re not giving me a choice. You’ll attack us again.”

  Kasimirh shrugged. “You always have a choice. Stick to your faith and your path will rapidly lead you to Margal. Jakob, on the other hand, offers life. And I already told you that I didn’t send the dragon.”

  The priest had taken a seat. At one draught he emptied the glass that had still been more than half full. “Would you give up your faith that easily?” he asked Kasimirh.

  “No, I wouldn’t.”

  Kasimirh had answered the question truthfully. He appre
ciated the man’s loyalty to his Goddess, even though she wasn’t the one True God. It told him much about the man, who clearly didn’t take the easy way out, but stood by the things he preached.

  “My followers trust me to make the best decisions for them. That has never been hard, because Margal is very clear about what She wants. But now you face me with a dilemma. It’s very tempting to choose the path that will bring us happiness right here and now, but what if, with that decision, I jeopardize eternal life in the hereafter? Not only mine, but that of all the people who trust me?”

  “Why wait for a life after death to get closer to God? Jakob taught me that He will descend to earth during the lifetime of men if we reunite in His faith. I know what He can teach us, but I also realize that what He taught me is only a fraction of His immeasurable knowledge. This is my dream for the human race: a heaven on earth.”

  Kasimirh waited for a response, but when none came he reached in his bag for a book.

  “I understand that you have to think about this. That’s why I give you this book. Read it carefully. I’ll be in town for a couple of days. I’ll await your answer at the inn.”

  The man didn’t move as Kasimirh got up and left the house.

  Kasimirh decided to walk by the houses that had been targeted in the attack. The people had managed to put out the fire, but hadn’t been able to prevent four houses from burning down to the ground. Three other houses were partly ruined. People were salvaging everything that was still usable. Kasimirh kept looking for a while and then turned around.

  It was busy at the inn. The occupants of the ruined houses had been brought here. Women were crying by the fireplace, where no fire was lit. One of them kept her children pressed close to her body. Screams came from behind a door. No one even noticed Kasimirh.

  At long last the innkeeper came in. He didn’t seem to notice that he had a customer, so Kasimirh coughed. Shaking his head, the innkeeper came up to him.

  “What’s going on?” Kasimirh asked.

  “Dimara lost one of her children. It’s devastating.”

  Kasimirh kept a moment’s silence before asking softly: “I’m sure this isn’t the right time. I need to stay in this town for a couple of days – and I understand that you’re accommodating the victims of the fire – but is there, by any chance, a room left for me?”

  The innkeeper opened his book. “I haven’t even taken the time to write down who’s staying where, but I think there must still be a room left. If you’ll wait until I’ve straightened everything out, I’ll let you know which room is yours.”

  “No need to rush, sir. I completely understand. I can wait a while.”

  “Find yourself a spot and I’ll have someone bring you something to eat. It won’t be much since part of our supplies have been ruined as well.”

  “Don’t bother, I’m not hungry.” Kasimirh wanted to walk to a table but thought better of it and turned around. “How many families were afflicted by this disaster?”

  “Seven…”

  Kasimirh got out his pouch. He made seven piles of coins on the counter. The last pile was bigger than the others.

  “I trust that you will give this to the victims. I know money won’t take away their pain, but it will make things easier.” He pointed at the largest pile. “That one is for Dimara.”

  The innkeeper looked surprised. “Thank you for your generosity. I will pass on your sympathy.”

  Kasimirh smiled and found a spot at a table.

  By nightfall the inn got more crowded. Women disappeared into the back room to offer their condolences to Dimara and the other families. The men gathered around the fireplace, where – despite the cold – there still wasn’t a fire going. Kasimirh kept his distance and observed. The conversations were held in subdued voices, but now and again he caught a few angry words. After the women had left the inn one by one, and the noises from the guest rooms died down, the conversations became louder. Sorrow and dismay were replaced by anger. The men were speculating about the attack. That was the moment Kasimirh had been waiting for.

  “The dragon will return.” He had spoken softly, but everyone fell silent. They all gave him an inquisitive look. Kasimirh nodded. “I’m warning you, she will return for sure.”

  A new discussion flared up. Most of the men didn’t seem to doubt this prediction. Kasimirh listened as the anger increased. At long last, someone suggested they all prayed.

  “I would definitely do that,” said Kasimirh as he got up. “God is the only one who can protect you now.”

  He went to the room that the innkeeper had shown him. It was too early to talk about Jakob. More had to happen before these people were prepared to listen to him.

  21

  Kasimirh grumbled. He had cut himself shaving. He searched his bag for some alum and continued shaving the stubble off his chin and upper lip. He felt his cheek and was content. Next, he ran a comb through his hair, which was light grey. Kasimirh thought it suited him well.

  He took the towel from his shoulder and looked through the mirror at the tattoo on his chest near his heart. It was a folded up letter with Jakob’s seal, a symbol for the assignment that Kasimirh had been given. The paper was stabbed into his chest with a dagger.

  As Kasimirh was getting dressed, a cart came rattling by outside. There was also a group of people talking to each other underneath his window, but apart from that, everything was quiet. Unlike last night. Dimara had repeatedly woken up screaming, so Kasimirh hadn’t gotten much sleep either. Looking in the mirror, he was glad that he didn’t see any traces of his lack of sleep. He decided to go out and look around the town.

  Groups of people had gathered in the narrow streets. The main topic of conversation was still yesterday’s disaster. Kasimirh was growing more and more annoyed for having to ask people if he could pass, so now and again he took paths that ran around the back of the houses. He came upon the cattle pen, which contained a few emaciated buffalos. A bit further down the road he saw a field with crops. The leaves were wilting away because of the unrelenting sun and a lack of water to keep the soil moist.

  Finally, Kasimirh reached the place where the houses had been burned to the ground. Men were already trying to repair the buildings. People had gathered here as well. A woman was sitting on her knees, crying. Two others were patting her on the shoulder, gently trying to convince her to leave this place.

  Kasimirh caught the name of the crying woman, it was Dimara. He debated whether he should talk to the mother who had lost her child, but what could he say? If these people had believed in Jakob, he could have comforted them with stories about the hereafter. But right now, there was nothing he could do for them, so he turned around and walked away.

  When he reached the town square, he spotted the priest.

  “Have you had time to read the book, yet?” Kasimirh asked him.

  Annoyed, the man looked at him. “I have more important things on my mind right now. My people hardly have anything to eat and they are scared that the dragon will return.”

  “They are right to fear the dragon. You know as well as I do that she will return. Jakob can help the people with both problems. He can make sure that the dragon won’t hurt them any more, and He can provide them with enough food. The only thing you have to do is believe in Him. Convert to Jakob and you will be rewarded generously.”

  The priest walked away, shaking his head. Apparently, someone had been listening in on the conversation, because a man walked up to Kasimirh. “I’d like to know more about Jakob.”

  Kasimirh smiled and put his arm around the man’s shoulders. “Jakob is the only True God,” he began, and then he explained that God rewarded his followers with knowledge and protection.

  “I’ve never felt at ease with Margal, so I’m prepared to convert to Jakob. My family will follow my example. I don’t want to live in fear and poverty if there’s an alternative.”

  “You’re a wise man. I’ll come to your house to initiate you and your family into Jakob�
�s religion.”

  “I’m grateful.”

  The man led the way through town. Children were pursuing each other as if nothing had happened the day before. At long last, the man opened a door. He and his family lived in one of the houses in the town rampart. These houses belonged to the poorest citizens. Three children were shouting and running around the small room.

  “Stop it!” one of the two women said. “People will get hurt.”

  The children obediently went to sit in a corner, but kept giggling. The other woman regarded Kasimirh closely.

  “Who is he?”

  After the man had explained why he had brought Kasimirh with him, both women nodded.

  “I’m prepared to follow Jakob as well. To thank you for coming to see us, I’d like to invite you to have a meal with us, giving you the opportunity to teach us about Jakob,” said the woman who was probably the elder of the two.

  The man sat down on the rugs in the middle of the room and motioned for Kasimirh to do the same. The children were curious and came closer as well.

  “It isn’t much, but it’s all I’ve got,” the woman said apologetically when she had put the food on the ground in front of them. All the plates and dishes were damaged. Kasimirh was given the best crockery because he was their guest.

  Kasimirh hadn’t failed to notice the dirt under the woman’s nails. “I’d like us to wash our hands before we eat,” he therefore suggested.

  The woman gave the jug that she had placed amidst the food a pensive look. “This is all the water we have left for today,” she said reluctantly.

  “Don’t worry about that,” was Kasimirh’s answer.

  But the woman didn’t look very willing to squander the precious liquid.

  “Do as he says,” the man said as he extended his hands.

  Kasimirh did the same. The youngest woman poured some water over his hands and rubbed them clean. After that, she washed the children.