by A. R. Cook
With the elks, the trek was more enjoyable, and riding an elk was not all that different than riding a Laspher for Desert Rain. It was Chiriku who had difficulty with her elk, since she was used to controlling a mount with reins, and the elk were trained to take direction with light taps on their antlers. Chiriku tended to bang the antlers, causing the elk to turn too sharply. Most of the ride involved a myriad of squawking curses emitted by the frustrated Quetzalin.
It was early evening when they spotted a jade building through the trees. It had the strong, broad, enduring build like those of dwarven structures, with the fine designs and details of elven flavor. The temple was a step-pyramid, with a flat top that supported four glassy green trees, one at each corner of the roof. In the center was a great jade statue of a regal dragon, its lifelike image glimmering majestically. A breath-taking garden encompassed the temple, laced with flowery arches, stone fountains, and fruit trees of every kind. It was the closest thing to paradise that Desert Rain could imagine. Chiriku, as usual, made no outer show of being impressed—she just made a light huff that sounds like “harrumph.”
The sanctuary was maintained by an Ahshi sisterhood of clerics, all dressed in flowing gowns and robes of light green. They did not possess any magical healing abilities like Clova, but they had profound knowledge of herbs and the natural medicines found in Ahshibana. Many of them had studied with Mage Skyhan, but they knew but a small fraction of the Healing Hijn’s secrets.
The clerics welcomed the three warmly, while a pair of elves took their elks and led them off to a holding place. Paki had barely gotten through introductions before Chiriku cut him off, demanding to know if any of the clerics had seen a lone human male in his elder years, rather fat, rather loud, and probably reeking of cigar smoke. The elves were a bit perplexed by Chiriku’s rapid talk, but one cleric attempted to gently take Chiriku by the hand—which Chiriku instantly snatched back—and led her down the entry hall into the temple. The others followed close behind.
They entered the great hall of the temple, a massive room often used for important prayer offerings to the memorial of Earthbelly, but now it was full of people, Syphurians of all walks of life, being tended to by the clerics. There were whole familes huddled together, and some who suffered alone. Most people, weary and shaken, sat or laid on mats and blankets. Some had legs or arms wrapped in bandages, having suffered wounds or broken bones during their flight from home. The clerics hurried about, supplying plenty of water, food and salves for their guests. There was a door on the opposite side of the hall where other elves were coming in and out. They carried clean rags, bandages, basins of water and full jars of salve in, and came out with bloodied rags and half-empty jars.
The elves offered Chiriku, Desert Rain and Paki mats to sit on, although space was sparse so they were placed in a tight corner. The clerics went off to look for any lone human that matched Chiriku’s description, as clarified by Paki. The room was uncomfortably quiet, except for the soft whispers of tired children and one street minstrel who played a lute, despite a splint on his wrist.
“Thank Guerda-Shalyr that these people are able to receive such good care,” Desert Rain said, mostly to Chiriku as reassurance about Hibbletom.
Chiriku shook her head. “Figures that the old man would come here. He probably got a cold or sprained a toe, and he’d act like he’s got a foot in the grave. What a melodramatic baby.” She leaned against the wall nonchalantly, clicking her beak out of habit.
Desert Rain watched the various guests, looking away as a few people gave her curious glances. She thought she even heard one child say something to his parents about “that lady in the corner must be real sick.” She hid her face in her hair. After some time, a cleric came up to them, telling Chiriku to follow her. Desert Rain felt compelled to follow, and surprisingly, Chiriku didn’t make any snide comment about it. She was looking unusually anxious. Desert Rain was praying that the cleric was not going to lead them through that ominous door in the back.
Her heart sank as they were led through that very door.
The corridor they entered was lined with doorways to small rooms on each side. There were draperies over the doorways, although it did little to muffle the sounds coming from the rooms. There were lung-wrenching coughs and painful groans, and it was enough to make Desert Rain cringe. Near the end of the corridor, the cleric drew back the drapery to a room on the left. Inside, there was a man lying in a hammock, lined with soft blankets. He was very pale, damp with sweat, and he wheezed as he breathed. In his hand, which hung over the side of the hammock, was a lit, but barely smoked, cigar.
Chiriku ran over and snatched the cigar out of Hibbletom’s hand. The man jerked his head up, instinctively reaching out to get his cigar back. Upon seeing Chiriku, his expression softened, and he let out a heavy sigh. “Was wondering when you would get here,” he rasped with a smile.
“Are you stupid, smoking when you’re like this?” Chiriku was stern in her voice, but her half-smile drew the edge off her sharp tone.
“I wasn’t smoking it. I was smelling the aroma. It comforts me.” He tried to sit up, but he stopped and groaned. “Damn bones don’t want to cooperate.”
The cleric, satisfied that this was the correct person Chiriku wanted, dismissed herself to tend to other guests. Desert Rain decided to give the two time alone, so she let the drapery fall and sat down on the floor outside the room. Even without her sensitive hearing, she would have been able to hear the conversation going on inside, and despite knowing that it was rude to eavesdrop, she perked an ear towards the voices coming through the thin curtain.
“You look like crap,” Chiriku said to her grandfather.
“You’re one to talk. You look like something the griffin dragged in.” Hibbletom coughed, and almost hacked up something, but fortunately kept it down. “Where’ve you been this whole time?”
“It’s a long story.”
“It’s not like we got much else to do than talk, seeing as how I’m laid up in bed and all.”
“Come on, it can’t be that bad. You always make too much out of nothing.” Chiriku felt Hibbletom’s forehead, and found it hot. She found a water basin on the floor with a rag in it. She picked up the wet rag, wrung it, and laid the cool cloth on Hibbletom’s forehead. “You might have a fever, but that would be the worst of it. It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before.”
Hibbletom sighed. “Don’t feel like no fever I’ve ever had. One second I’m hot, then I’m cold…and my bones ache like there’s no tomorrow.” He managed a smile. “Although I’m feeling a bit better now that you’re here.”
Chiriku grinned. “You’re so sappy.”
“Glad to see this ordeal hasn’t changed your attitude,” Hibbletom said sardonically. “I would think that maybe you’d lose some of your sass after a demon attack. No such luck, I see.”
Chiriku smirked, rocking the hammock gently. “You can’t lose attitude. Might as well ask me to lose my beak.”
“Which I wouldn’t mind, you know. I could finally sell something without you squawking about how I’m overcharging my customers.”
Chiriku was quiet, her smile drooping. “The shop…what if it’s gone? What’ll we do if we go back, and find that everything’s been destroyed?”
Hibbletom folded his hands behind his head, with some effort in moving his arms. “Well, we pick up whatever’s left and start up again. Life’s got to go on. That’s what your dad always did when the going got tough.”
“Yeah. Picked up whatever he had and got going.” Her voice cut like a dagger.
Her grandfather let out a sigh, ending in a cough. “I could never rein that boy in like your mother could. The longest he ever stayed in the city without running off on some lame-brained adventure was when he was with her.”
“And that was a looong time,” Chiriku spat. “Do we have to talk about them? I’d rather chew off my foot.”
Hibbletom knew Chiriku hated talking about her parents. He sometimes tri
ed to sneak them into conversation, hoping someday she would finally expose her feelings about what happened. Chiriku, on the other hand, didn’t believe there was a single thing to talk about regarding them. Her father, Hibbletom’s son, was a self-made fortune-hunter, a man more suited to the wilderness than city life. Her mother, a Quertzalin as slender and graceful as an egret, had been a seamstress, well-liked by Syphurius’ elite for her fine dresses and coats. She had fallen in love with the human adventurer who came to her shop regularly to have his traveling clothes mended, and he had found her exotic and beautiful. She had convinced him to stop the adventuring, to work in her shop with her. But it was not long before the call of exploration drew him away, leaving behind the Quetzalin and their newborn baby daughter. The mother, her reputation sullied by having birthed a half-breed, lost many customers and ended up closing the shop. Sure, the father sent them whatever money he earned on his exploits, but mostly the mother got by on any odd jobs she could find. In an attempt to save herself financially and socially, she married a Falcolin, but it was treated more like a business deal than a marriage. The Falcolin detested Chiriku, the little abomination, so the mother left her daughter in the care of her human grandfather. Chiriku would say, under her breath, how she hoped her mother had finally had a purebred child that wouldn’t bring her shame.
Hibbletom didn’t like his granddaughter staying cooped up in his shop all the time—mainly because he didn’t like children underfoot—so he would take Chiriku to watch the gladiators at the local combat arena, which she took a surprising interest in. If there weren’t any events going on in town, he took her on short camping trips to appease her rowdiness. He showed her how to make a fire, how to fish, any wilderness tricks that would be useful. This was all the fun Chiriku had in her life, since she didn’t make friends easily. Hibbletom allowed Chiriku to have her odd interests, and even fulfilled her birthday request for a warhammer like the ones she saw the gladiators fight with—hers was forged to be lighter, of course. The other thing Chiriku looked forward to in life was receiving letters and little gifts from her father. He never wrote any indication of where he was, but he would write of his exciting exploits and how he would someday come back to see her. Then, when Chiriku was about eleven, the letters stopped. There was never an explanation. She never heard from her father again.
But that was that. The story was simple, it was sad, but who cared. Chiriku didn’t.
“I always wished I could have done more for you,” Hibbletom muttered.
Chiriku snorted a laugh. “Did you hit your head or something? Why are you so sentimental?”
The man looked forlornly at her. “I didn’t know what happened to you in the panic. For a while, I thought I’d never see you again. Can you blame an old man if he’s happy at seeing his granddaughter safe and sound?”
“This is you when you’re happy, huh?” Chiriku took the rag off his forehead so she could wet it again. “Besides, you knew you’d see me again. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”
Hibbletom did not reply right away. “You’re resilient. You’re stronger than I ever was.” He stared off into space, his eyelids heavy with fatigue. “I’m very proud of you.”
“Geez, listen to you. You’re talking like—” She snapped her beak shut. She stared wide-eyed at him. Then she laughed. “What kind of herbs do they have you on? It’s making you talk nonsense. You better take a nap. I’ll be right outside. And you better not eye any of the elf ladies, because if I hear that you do, you’re in serious trouble.”
Hibbletom grinned.
Chiriku pulled aside the drapery and exited the room, to find Desert Rain sitting right outside the door.
“Will you die if you’re farther than ten feet from me?” Chiriku sneered.
“I wanted to make sure everything was okay,” the Hijn replied.
“Everything’s fine.” Chiriku took off down the corridor, calling for someone to bring a fresh basin of water for her old man.
Desert Rain smiled. It was nice to know there was someone who could get through that Quetzalin’s tough exterior. She stood up to walk away, when she heard a heavy, torturous coughing. She pulled back the drapery and saw Hibbletom trying his best to muffle his uncontrollable cough with his sleeve.
“Should I get you a cleric?” Desert Rain asked.
“No…no, I’m fine,” Hibbletom said after forcing the cough to subside. He looked up at her. “Say, you’ve been in my shop before, haven’t you?”
Desert Rain nodded.
Hibbletom squinted at her, apparently no longer in possession of his spectacles. “Yeah, you’re that woman who knows the Swordmaster. So, you were driven out of house and home too, eh?”
“Yes,” Desert Rain replied softly.
“Come here a second.” The man beckoned her over with a shaky hand.
Desert Rain came over to the side of his hammock. She noticed a blotch of blood on Hibbletom’s sleeve. “What may I do for you?”
“Chiriku—you came here with her?”
“I’ve been with her the last few days trying to find you.”
“Ah, I see.” He shifted, clearing his throat. “Listen, I don’t want you telling anyone what I’m about to say, especially not Chiriku, all right?”
Desert Rain nodded, although she wondered what he could possibly say to her that he didn’t want his own granddaughter to know.
“Look, Chiriku doesn’t have a whole lot of friends. She ain’t too personable, if you know what I mean. But I’d like to know that she has someone looking out for her. Can you see that she doesn’t get herself into any trouble?”
“Of course. But you don’t have to worry about her. I don’t think she’ll be going much of anywhere until you get better.”
Hibbletom shook his head. “Let’s not fool ourselves. I’ve known for some time that these old bones don’t have enough energy left to make the trip back home. Barely had enough energy to make it here. I don’t put much stock in false hopes.” He coughed again. “I know Chi can take care of herself, but she’s had a hard time. So maybe you could keep an eye on her every now and then. You know, make sure she doesn’t pick any fights she can’t handle.”
“I’m afraid Chiriku doesn’t like me all that much. Why ask me to do this?”
“You seem like a nice kid. Chiriku needs more nice people in her life. Don’t want her turning into an old curmudgeon like me.”
Desert Rain smiled, wondering if she should tell him she wasn’t really a “kid.” After all, she was older than he was.
“I’ll do what I can,” the Hijn reassured him.
Hibbletom gave a satisfied nod. He laid his head back, closing his eyes. “Thanks.”
Desert Rain quietly left the room. She saw a cleric coming her way, with a bowl of clean water. The Hijn lowered her voice to address the elf. “May I ask what ails the man in this room?”
The cleric looked around quickly, then also lowered her voice to answer. “It is a disease that many of the people had when they came here. It comes from eating the meat of the wild boars that dwell in these woods. We were told that some of the travelers hunted down the boars for food while on the trail, and shared the meat with others.”
“Is it very serious?”
“The younger ones recover from the disease in a short matter of time. The elder ones...we can never be certain. The human in this room has been one of the worst cases.”
Desert Rain’s ears drooped. She thanked the elf and walked away.
“Paki, thank you for your generosity and guidance, but I don’t want to keep you away from your wife and home any longer than necessary. If you want to leave, you are free to do so.”
The Ahshi did not look surprised at Desert Rain’s words. “It is no trouble for me to assist you. You will need a guide to return to Kapokis, will you not?”
Desert Rain scooted closer to him so Chiriku would not hear, even though the Quetzalin was not paying attention to them anyway. “Yes, but not right now. Chiriku doesn’t w
ant to leave her grandfather, and I promised that I would keep an eye on her. What you could do for me is tell Clova where we are, so if she learns anything new from the Great Philosopher, she can send us word. Would you do that for me?”
Paki nodded once. “I shall leave in the morning, then. Sleep well, Hijn Desert Rain.” He lied down on his mat, and shut his eyes. He was so suddenly still, it was possible he had fallen asleep instantly.
Desert Rain lied down on her mat as well, but she did not shut her eyes. She was trying to juggle all the tumbling thoughts in her mind. She pulled the black pouch out of her pocket, and slide her hand into the bag. At first, she felt nothing. Reaching in a bit deeper, her fingertips touched cool, smooth metal. She could feel the bumps of sapphires along the surface. She pulled her hand out and shoved the pouch back into her pocket.
She could sense someone watching her. She glanced over at Chiriku, who was studying her with suspicious eyes. The Quetzalin turned away.
Desert Rain wondered how she could gain the trust of someone like Chiriku when she didn’t even trust herself.
Chiriku spent the following day with Hibbletom, leaving his room when he needed to rest or when she went to fetch them something to eat or drink. Hibbletom’s appetite was waning, but Chiriku would assure him that he was looking better and to stop being so difficult.
Late in the day, a young messenger elf riding a deer arrived with a letter from Clova, written on the Philosopher’s reed-pressed paper. The Ahshi did not use bird-carried messages like the other Noble Cities unless it was truly important. They did not like to overwork the animals that offered their services to them. He delivered the message to Desert Rain, who was walking around the gardens. The message was concise:
