Strange Land (The Young Ancients Book 15)

by P. S. Power

  The damp would make it harder for people to see she wasn't really crying. It was important to seem like you meant it when you begged. That had been in every lesson she'd ever been given on the topic. There were rules to that kind of thing, and she knew them all. At least for her own people. The trick here would be adapting to what these people needed of her, even as she spoke and tried to produce real tears for them. It wouldn't be enough to be realistic, she needed to be heartrending. As soon as she got ten feet from the collection of people, she knelt, hands going out in front of her, as if about to beg forgiveness. It was embarrassing, but that was the point.

  When she spoke it was in her accented Tellerand.

  "We have food, and the ability to make more. Please... Please take it. It is..." Sara didn't know how to put what she wanted to say clearly. She didn't want to lie to these people, but she also had a job to do. One that made her being manipulative and a bit less than honest all right. That's what she told herself anyway. Finally she just stammered through it, as they all stared at her. Horrified. Some of the women in the back looked away, so as to not see her in such a state. "The food, all of it, is... magic. But good and healthy to eat. The... We were sent by the All High. It is His power that lets us come here."

  She waited for the man to pick up a rock and try to drive her away, but the other men, her sailors, beached the skiff and to her amazement joined her on the sand. Kneeling humbly before these people, as if asking for their own lives. Even the two men from Vagus, who had no real part of the mission other than what they were being paid for. That certainly wasn't making these hidebound people take the food they offered. They were just required to row the oars, and man the deck when told.

  To her surprise Laroque started speaking, his hard voice far more mellow than she would have suspected it could be. Humble. Contrite.

  "This is truth, being spoken. I have seen this woman and her friends, watching them for weeks. They do nothing counter to what the All High asks of us, except stint on prayers. They fill those moments with good works. They are not the most pious, I have seen this. If'n they are not touched by Him and His ways regardless, then none of us are, I give you. The Captain, this woman before you crying out for you to take her aid, offered her virtue just moments ago, if it be needed for you to take what her people offer you. Risking being cast out of her own lands for all time, to allow you to slake your carnal and venal thirst upon her flesh, if you will but help us do His will. If that can be refused, then perhaps you do not seek to do His will as is the way?" There was more in that vein, most of it clearly designed to make people uneasy.

  The man was clearly smarter than she'd been thinking, since between begging and suggesting that they were the ones being more than a bit evil, not taking the help the One God himself was bringing them, the First mate got the people arrayed on the beach to start nodding along.

  Then, without letting her people up, they all knelt, and prayed.

  Because that made sense, given how most of the people were two or three missed meals from death. Perhaps not that close, but it wasn't what she would have suggested they do first.

  It didn't take that long, though it felt a bit useless. She copied the words however, when the others spoke, since she was being watched by the women very closely. Especially the one in brown. The short pale lady had long brown hair, and a cross around her own neck, like several of the men did. A big thing that showed she took her faith seriously. Not that any of these people didn't.

  Finally, when that was done, the prayer and supplication portion of things, the others got up. Sara stood too, not knowing if it was the right time for it. Her knees and lower back were starting to hurt though, from being bent half over like she was.

  The gray bearded fellow looked troubled. It wasn't some subtle thing, either.

  "Magic is of the devil though. Could this be a trick, meant to steal our souls from Him? To corrupt our hearts?"

  That was, Sara had been warned, going to be the standard line. That magic, being evil, and only of the devil, who was for this land a kind of spirit that inhabited people and turned them away from the glory of their One God, would warp and twist them away from the path of right and good. At least she'd thought that was what Roget and the others back on Harmony had said.

  No one was looking at her, not even the gray bearded elder who spoke for them all. This land was a little against women in some ways, but she didn't think that was what the problem was. Not this time.

  From the left, standing away from all the others still, the woman in the brown dress spoke up. Her long dark hair was tied back, and her entire body was covered with plain cloth. There was sand on her knees though, like everyone else. If anything the patches on her dress front were larger and more well worn than the others. This was a person that had been on hard times longer than the rest, it seemed.

  Her voice was humble sounding, but still firm.

  "Day Leader, this woman, not even one of our own people is willing to have her virtue torn asunder to convince us, in our wickedness, that we should accept the bounty of the All High. Should we not at least hold council on it? Are we all perfect beings then? Can we not confuse the path that He sets for us for evil, if it is new and different?" Then the woman went wide eyed and shook her head a little, as everyone except the young girl glared at her.

  Well, not the men from Vagus, but even Sara's hired crew did. Including Roget. It was that short pale man in black that shook his own head, and finally smiled however. Explaining in part, with a few simple words.

  "Your saint speaks correctly in this. The All High does not seek to cause us pain in this world. There are trials, and tests, but when pushed to the edge of survival those lessons are always in adapting to the new and strange. It's in His book."

  That there was a book was news to Sara, but she schooled her face and didn't smile as a debate started. Instead she sunk to her knees and started going on a bit. Crying out sadly, telling them how she, how all her people in all their lands, wished only for the people of Tellerand to live. It wasn't all that coherent, but real begging never was. Besides, it was, she realized, nearly true. Even if it was humbling to keep having to do it for these people that should have known better already.

  It sent a thrill of shame through her, but she did it anyway. Even as people occasionally looked at her in horror. This time her crew didn't follow along with her, but Laroque kept touching the large knife on his side. Not drawing it, but it was clear that the Day Leader was going to be in trouble if something didn't break soon.

  In the end it was the young girl that settled the first part of things. Her voice was so small and weak sounding that Sara almost didn't hear her.

  "The little ones. We need to think of them before our own needs. Even if this food is prepared by the devil himself. To refuse aid for those in our care is a greater sin than having truck with the darkness."

  Sara stood then, as if the young woman's words had released her. The truth was that her back was starting to kill her from being bent over. She dusted off her knees then, and nodded somberly.

  "Roget, would you set up one of the food units?" Her accent wasn't perfect, but everyone seemed to understand what she meant, speaking in Tellerand like she was. It wasn't Noram Standard, but it had a lot of similar words. Afrak was actually a lot harder to learn, holding no common ground like that.

  The man didn't wait to be invited by the Day Leader. He moved back about fifty paces, and tapped the sigil on one of the amulets he carried in his side pocket. That got a gasp, and real terror from the people watching on the beach. Including some of the men from her crew. She spoke softly to them.

  "Hold men. This is only what the All High has provided for these people. The... saint, Timon Baker, spent over a month in communion with Him to create this. No magic can be built without touching that level of things. Without being one with the All High. We call it magic, but ask yourselves, is this the kind of thing you were warned of? This is no curse to act in subtle, unseen ways. This
is not some hidden and secret thing that the Devil would use to trick you."

  No one answered her, but they didn't wet themselves either. That was actually better than Sara had figured on, from what she'd been hearing over the last months. There were some big eyes still, and a little shaking, as Roget touched the large cream colored building on the side. This caused a stream of water from the ocean to fly to it. It was a pure line of fluid that looked very even and regular as it moved. A translucent line of life.

  Then the little man moved with confidence to another of the sigils and touched it.

  "This one will turn what is put into the machine into bread. There are almost two hundred things that can be made. All good and wholesome. Watch." Touching the silver and blue glow, his fingers almost caressing the magical construct, he waited. Not too long however.

  Then, moving quickly, his nerve seeming to finally break a bit, Roget moved to the back and started pulling out armloads of fresh looking loaves.

  "Take them. Eat. I swear to you, it is only food. Nutritious and filling. Enough for all, if you decide to take the blessing that He is offering you. Please, eat. The rest of us shall pray that you consider our offer."

  There was a glance at her, as if she were going to say it was a bad idea? She'd spent over an hour on her knees already since they'd gotten there.

  No one had even suggested she do anything for them personally while she was down there. If she'd been in Noram it would have happened. Even if only as a joke, said by a friend. These people just looked away from her, embarrassed for her, it seemed.

  Sara could eat humiliating herself if it was needed to make this work.

  As she sunk to her knees, she saw the brilliance of Roget's words. These people were trapped by their own beliefs. Now that it was being presented to them as being a gift from their own god, they had to eat the food.

  Maybe they even had to help spread things from there? It was a lot to hope for, but they were clearly desperate.

  Starving in some cases.

  They nearly fell on the loaves of crusty and soft bread, looking as greedy as any group that she'd ever seen. Still, they didn't start tearing chunks of bread off right away. They each held a single loaf, and then waited, looking at the Day Leader.

  Who knelt again, to pray before eating. Even as he clearly was close to passing out from hunger, having food so near.

  "Praised be the All High! Let us all be thankful for this bounty, which has come to us from him." He faltered then, tears in his eyes.

  Sara knew that it was a risk, but everything was, so she spoke, letting her voice carry a bit.

  "We, those from my crew, shall pray for you, so that you may eat, and be reminded of His... Grace." She thought that was right.

  Sam, the Vagus born sailor, his clothing still bright and cheery, being made of magic as it was, moved in next to her.

  In horribly thick Tellerand, he spoke a few words.

  "Praised be." Then in Vagish he started to... Pray. She caught enough of it to understand that he was using the right words. It was in the wrong language, but he was doing his part for real, wasn't he?

  She smiled a bit.

  "Yes. Praised be the All High for what he brings these people. All thanks are to Him."

  Roget finally took over, with tears in his own eyes. By the end of the meal, which wasn't that much food, the youngest woman got sick, not being used to having that much at once. A few of the others seemed ready to have the same trouble. It was a thing that could happen when you were that unused to food.

  "Ah!" She started to cry, looking at the returned bread on the sand. Fear in her eyes. "I mean no offense. Your food, His food... I... I feel shame. I..."

  Sara shrugged.

  "Perhaps some soup? Something to settle your stomach?" She jumped up to make it herself, having to borrow a metal mug to put it in. That being the only thing in the hopper to catch the vegetable soup she made, touching the correct sigil which proclaimed what it was clearly enough in all four languages, she passed it over.

  That got envious looks from some of the others, but no one asked for anything else for themselves. Even though it would be virtually free to make.

  Their saint, the woman in brown, stood though, and walked over to the device, looking at the side of it carefully.

  "I... If I use the saint's power, and touch one of these?" Her voice was scared sounding, but Sara got the idea.

  "That's correct. It will make what it says. Only a saint can make the device work. Will you be in charge of this for us here?" She saw the woman's face go hard, and wondered if she might refuse to do it. Even if doing it meant having unlimited food all the time.

  It was probably the glaring from the others that did it.

  Laroque laughed and shook his head at them, his voice going gruff and nearly mean.

  "Fools! You fear this new thing, claiming it magic because some outlanders don't have the proper word for miracle? You dare to look at a saint like that? I demand that you correct yourselves in His eyes right now. This girl was sent to you by His hand directly! Honor her." The part where he added, or I'll cut you, wasn't said.

  It didn't seem to be needed.

  The Day Leader looked at the woman in brown instead, and managed a weak looking smile.

  "I fear that this new man is correct, Mara. We've feared you, when we should have given you honors in his name. If you will take this duty, I promise that we shall treat you as one of us again."

  Roget seemed oddly pleased to hear that, but the woman, Mara, still looked down at the sand. Her face was sad, as if she'd heard similar things before. Given what Sara had heard about how the saints had been treated, it was probably just the truth. A lot of them had escaped, to Harmony and even Noram, to get away from the disdain of their own people.

  The fact was though that either this woman, or someone very like her, did the work, or they brought someone in from another land. Most of the world's people could summon the will to make magic work, it was simply that these people had a mental block in that regard, not wanting to be evil. That was the idea, as far as she'd heard. Those that could work past that had been given the title of saint, by the now dead Ancient of that land. Black. Required to use their power to aid others.

  Unfortunately, the people or Tellerand were good at being a bit slow to adapt.

  Mara sighed.

  "I shall serve as He desires. Always. I am but His vessel."

  Which apparently was the right thing to say. Even if it didn't give the woman a lot of personal choice in the matter. Then, who really ever had that? Sara was there because King Richard had told her to stay close to Tor, when you got down to it. That his little brother Terry was smart enough to work out a possible way to get around the beliefs of this place using her was just a side-effect of that. Happenstance nearly.

  Her job was to go, and do, as her King bid. For Mara it was all about what her god ordered. The only real difference was that her god didn't speak to anyone directly, so other people got to make up what they figured was needed. It didn't seem to work as smoothly as a system really. A good King could get things done a lot faster than an imaginary being that couldn't correct mistakes.

  It was a start though.

  "That works. We should get all the people that you have that can work a magical device out here and start making food for everyone. If you bring boxes, pots and pans... Bags too. Anything that can carry things? We can probably make sure that everyone has enough food for a few weeks inside a half day. The devices can become bigger and make more, at need. We've brought many of them too." That, if anyone went for it, would get exactly one small coastal village into play.

  Even after so many had died, the land held millions.

  Mara, for all she didn't turn to look at anyone else from her own home, got right to work. Her hands might have touched the sigils tensely, but her will was good enough to make what was needed appear in the hopper at the back of the large device.

  Roget stayed away from her, Sara noti
ced.

  It was a subtle thing, but he moved in with the rest of the men from Tellerand from her crew, making a little clutch of five people. Half of the working bodies had stayed on the ship, since they didn't need them all just for this. Still, it seemed a little strange, since both Mara and Roget were saints. That meant they'd be roughly equal in station didn't it? Both half cast out into the world? Shunned? She would have thought that her friend, Roget, would have moved in to support her himself.

  It wasn't until ten minutes later that the man came over and simply explained in a low voice. Probably because she'd been looking between him and Mara for several minutes.

  "The sailors and I are all unclean. Not tainted, thank the All High, but if we approach a woman of good standing too closely it might make her seem... Wanton or lacking in virtue. That's very important here. What Des Laroque said of you to these assembled, that you were willing to be tainted by them in order to see them fed... That was what did it. Then praying with us, asking for blessing to be accepted." He nearly froze then, tears in his eyes. Looking out over the slate gray water, the clouds seeming to threaten rain, the smaller man shook his head. Just a tiny bit.

  When he spoke, his words were strong and nearly rang out compared to what he'd practically whispered the moment before.

  "This is but one small hamlet however. If we are to make this be enough for all, we need to all be willing to do whatever is required of us. To lose our dignity. To give our very lives so that others may live. To dress in sackcloth, and place ashes over our brow in humility as we serve. We should leave now. To see to all His children." There was no sense that he was playing.

  Sara thought for a bit, then gave a nod.

  "We need to leave the ship manned. Laroque, you're in charge of that. Try not to stab anyone if you can help it. I'm taking the healing amulet with me. Roget and I shall do as he said and seek out those that need the..." She paused, then lied. It was part of how she'd been trained, so it was done nearly seamlessly. As if she merely forgot the words in a new language. "The gifts that the All High has commanded us to bring them."