“He doesn’t go to school, and I’m not even sure he knows how to read.”
Storgen opened his mouth. “Hey!”
“…You don’t even add a cute catchphrase like ‘you know?’ to the end of your sentences.”
“What does that even mean?”
Pops took another step closer. “You don’t do any of the things you’re supposed to, Philiastra. Do you even want to be considered his childhood friend?”
“Okay, first of all, you are standing waaaay too close to me, old man.”
“Oh, sorry.” Pops took a step back.
“Thank you. And second of all, I’m not his childhood friend. We only met last year.”
Storgen stepped in between the two. “All right, knock it off you guys, we need to focus here. We’ve gotta’ get some money together quick and get off this island.”
Philiastra looked sad when she heard it.
“How much do we need?” Pops asked as he squatted down, rubbing his sore knobby knees.
“Not much, six hundred should be enough to get us on a cargo ship.”
“Can’t we travel on a real ship for once? Last time you had us with a load of pickles.”
“Is that why you guys smelled like vinegar the first time we met?” Philiastra asked, dislodging a banana peel from her leafy hair.
“Pops, passenger ships have crew manifests, identification checks, see the problem?”
“Well, how long will it take you to save up that much with your job, lad?”
“I can’t go to Pita Hut right now, Pops, that’s the first place they’ll look.”
“Sounds like you need a better idea,” Philiastra said.
Storgen and Pops sat thinking for a moment.
Pops snapped his bony fingers. “I know! We could collect the reward for Storgen.”
The other two stared at him.
“By turning him in?”
“Scrupulously.”
Storgen snorted. “As much as I’d enjoy breaking out of the constabulary again, there’s a small problem with your plan, Pops.”
“Which is?”
“They only pay out the reward after the prisoner is executed.”
“I don’t see how that’s something we can’t overcome.”
Storgen rolled his eyes.
Pops shot up as if he had been pinched. “Ooh, ooh, I know, like in the Canterbann Saga, we could have Philiastra seduce a wealthy aristocrat.”
Philiastra scoffed. “Pops, why are all of your ideas terrible?”
“It’s not my ideas that are bad, it’s your attitude that is bad. Don’t you have confidence in your own feminine charms?”
“That’s not the point.”
“I mean, you are a little on the young side. But we can fix that. A nice tight dress, some good makeup, pad your chest up a little, you could pull it off.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You are the most disgusting man I know.”
“If you think that’s bad, you should hear the things I don’t say aloud.”
Storgen put a scarred hand on Pops’ shoulder. “Okay, Pops, you’re not allowed to make any more suggestions tonight.”
“But what about…?”
“Stop talking.”
“Awwww.”
Pops sulked in a corner and pulled out his figurine to fawn over. Storgen threw Philiastra an apologetic glance.
“I think you’re looking at this the wrong way,” Philiastra suggested. “If I were them, I’d be expecting you to try and leave. They’re probably triple checking every ship right now. You’ll be caught long before you can set sail. I think…”
She looked away, trying to sound indifferent. “…I think you should just stay here. It’ll be safer.”
Storgen shook his head. “No, I’ve got to keep moving. I can come back and search the rest of Ápinso later, once they’re no longer looking for me.”
Philiastra balled her fists. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“How so?”
“This girl you’re looking for, how do you know she’s even out there?”
“Phili…”
“No, I’m serious. Think about it. You’ve been searching for how many years now? Are you any closer now than you were when you started?”
The minute the words left her lips, she regretted saying it. Storgen turned away, unable to hide how much her words had cut him.
“No…I’m not,” he admitted quietly.
Philiastra placed her hands over her heart sorrowfully. “I’m sorry, but it’s true,” she whispered. “Alchemy is all about probability and mathematics. And that’s the thing about numbers, they don’t change just because you don’t like what they say. This girl, she could have been killed in an accident as a child. She could be married with kids by the time you find her. In all likelihood, she’s not even alive at all. She was probably born hundreds of years ago, or will be born hundreds of years from now.”
Storgen took in a deep breath, a slight tremble in his voice. “I know…but I have to try. It’s all I can do.”
Philiastra reached out for him. “No, it’s not. You don’t have to fritter away your life searching for something that isn’t there. You can have a life, your own life, here.”
She pulled her hand back away. “Would that be so terrible?”
“What are you getting at, Phili?”
She looked down bashfully, holding the pot close to her, her face blushing ever so slightly. “We have an extra room in the guest house. You could stay with us.”
Storgen looked at her softly. “Phili, that’s very kind of you, but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Pops asked.
Storgen resisted.
“At least for a few days, while you come up with a better plan,” she pressed.
Out in the street, the sound of a group of hoplite boots clattered against the flagstone.
“All right,” Storgen relented. “We can look into it.”
Philiastra clapped her hands and jumped up and down. “Yay!”
~
Cinque Aleria was nestled right at the posh outskirts of the shopping district, its tiered balconies offering a wonderful view of the rose pathway that lead up to the beautiful Pisínes Tragoúdi, the Singing Pools of Jenala. This time of night was particularly beautiful, as the sky was alight with pink clouds from the setting sun, and the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. As they approached, it seemed to Storgen, that the clouds in the sky and the blossoms on the hill blended together, as if one could follow the path up into the heavens themselves , like the ancient celestial highways of old. Something about it all stirred something within him. Not memories, but the echoes of memories, feelings of belonging and safety so alien to him now that he found himself distrustful of the sensation.
“It’s really pretty, isn’t it?” Philiastra commented as she stepped up alongside him.
“It’s beautiful. I’ve never seen its equal.”
She pointed up to the simple shrine and temple atop the hill, floating in a sea of flowers and clouds. “My grandfather maintains Jenala’s fountain right there.”
Storgen nodded. “I’ve met him. He comes by the soup kitchen every day to make his deliveries.”
She grabbed his elbow excitedly and led him down the street towards the café. Pops kept up as best he could, huffing and puffing along.
“We have breakfast together at eight every morning before we open the café, the chefs make a special family meal for us and all the employees. You’ll need to be on your best behavior. My dad can be strict and I want him to like you.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”
“The bathhouse is fully heated. Boys can use it in the evening, girls use in the morning, but if you try and peep I’ll never forgive you.”
“What kind of guy do you think I am?”
“My room is right there on the third floor. You’re not allowed to go in there without an escort. The door is sealed with a runic lock, but the window from the outside i
s unguarded, so don’t get any crazy ideas, okay?”
“Why are you telling me this? Are you trying to encourage me or something?”
Philiastra giggled as they reached the main entrance. Pops found a bench and collapsed against it like his lungs might explode.
Storgen stopped. It was tighter inside than he had anticipated.
Sensing his apprehension, she patted him on the chest. “Wait here, I’ll go get my dad.”
The large gear that served as a door rolled aside automatically as she skipped in, and Storgen was met by the most beautiful aroma of freshly baked cakes and breads. Sweet frostings, soft crèmes, tart fruits, and luscious berries. Dozens of tantalizing smells all rolled into one, he couldn’t help but breathe it in. It was the kind of scent that made his heart cheer for having been born with a sense of smell.
Storgen stepped closer and looked through the tinted windows. The décor was lively inside, the atmosphere pleasant and friendly. Many of the regular customers waved at Philiastra as she came in, unbothered by her soiled appearance and the broken device she held. They greeted her by name, and she returned their greetings in kind. A waiter playfully hummed a tune as he took her hand, and the two of them danced for a moment in the center of the room, eliciting cheers from the patrons.
This was not like the places Storgen had worked. This was not an assembly line of food, eaten by sullen solitary customers eating numbly to the buzzing of flies and the sizzle of grills. This was not a machine designed to generate income that used people like cogs, and cast them off when they were no longer of use.
This was a home.
Storgen watched as Philiastra gave a hug to an older man with kind eyes and a bit of a stoop to his back. He could not hear their words, but the happy expression on her face as she spoke to him, and the excited attention he afforded her, even as busy as he was, told Storgen what kind of person he was.
Storgen caught his own reflection in the glass. His face was bruised and swollen, his scars more prominent than usual, like white latticework across his body, weight from a thousand street fights. They seemed heavy to him now, as if tugging at his skin. On the wall next to him, there sat one of his wanted posters, listing his reward, his crimes, and a few extra crimes he was pretty sure he was innocent of. The portrait on the poster looked better than he did currently. He felt as out of place as a pig in a palace.
“Are you all right there, young man?”
The nearness of the voice made him start. Storgen turned to find himself looking at a young mother, shopping bags hanging in bundles from the handles of her clockwork carridge, in which her baby slept.
“Ah, yes, fine, you startled me.”
She looked him over carefully. “You look familiar, have we met before?”
Storgen discreetly stepped in front of the wanted poster, blocking it from her view. “Ah, I don’t think so, I’m sure I would remember a lovely lady such as yourself.”
“Oh, a smooth talker, I see.”
“Every chance I get.”
She giggled in a way that felt familiar to him. “Is this your first time here?”
“Yes, actually.”
“Well, then, let me explain how this works. You order food and they bring it to you.”
“Um, yes, I know how a restaurant works.”
She laughed warmly. Storgen took the chance to grab the poster behind him and crumple it in his fist.
“There are some open tables, young man, I’m sure you’d be welcome inside.”
“Can’t.”
“Not hungry?”
“Food is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.”
“No money?”
“Carrying money around is too constrictive to my modern lifestyle. Besides, a place like this? I’m pretty sure they have some outdated archaic policy about sandals.”
She glanced down at his bare feet. “Oh my, is that a new fashion trend?”
“Oh yeah, everyone will be doing it soon. It’s the latest thing. Very posh.”
“I can’t keep up with the new generation. When I was a teenager it was all about skirt length, a little too long you were a prude, a little too short you were a strumpet.”
“I’m sure you could still turn some heads.”
“Oh, at my age? Don’t be silly.”
“Nonsense.”
She smiled at him bashfully. “I can see why she likes you.”
“Who?”
The door rolled aside as Philiastra came out, leading the stooped man as he hobbled out.
“Mom, Dad, this is Storgen,” she said proudly.
Storgen furrowed his brow as he looked at the tree nymph standing before two humans. “These are your parents?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Well, it’s just that you are, and they are…never mind. Nice to meet you.”
“Gaetan Thavma,” the man said, taking Storgen’s hand. “It looks like I owe you a plate of thanks for what you did for my daughter.”
“It’s no big deal, only cost me an easel.”
“Yes, and this is my wife, Phyllis.”
“Oh, we’ve already met,” Phyllis said.
“You have?”
“Why yes. Young Storgen here was just telling me how lovely I would look in a short skirt.”
Gaetan raised an eyebrow. “You were flirting with my wife?”
“Wha? I…”
Philiastra put her hands on her hips. “You were hitting on my MOM?!”
“What? No, I…”
Phyllis giggled. “It’s all right, it was harmless.”
Storgen sighed in relief. He now realized why her giggle seemed so familiar. Philiastra laughed the same way.
Gaetan looked Storgen over carefully. “I think I’ve seen you somewhere before.”
“I was just thinking the same thing, dear.”
“He’s the one I was telling you about, Dad.”
Gaetan tried to force a smile through the panic spreading across his face. “Oh, the one who approached you at the city dump?”
“Actually she approached me. I was just there to paint.”
“He’s a painter, dad.”
“What? Like a house painter?”
Phyllis put her hand on her cheek. “Oh dear, the only thing worse than a painter is a novelist.”
“He needs a place to stay for a few days. I was hoping we could help him out.”
Her father seemed reluctant. “Storgen, may I ask how old you are?”
Storgen scratched the back of his head thoughtfully. “What year is it, again?”
“You don’t know what year it is?”
“I left my calendar with my other pair of shoes.”
“It’s four-hundred twenty three H.B.”
“Then I guess that would make me four-hundred twenty three.”
Her parents looked at one another doubtfully.
“Storgen, stop screwing around,” Philiastra scolded.
She turned to her father, her eyes pleading. “Look, he saved my life. Can’t we help him?”
Gaetan looked at her tenderly. “Sweetheart, if you hadn’t been spending so much time with him at the dump, you wouldn’t have cut through the silver district to begin with.”
She was crushed. “You mean, we’re not going to help him?”
He looked at her kindly. “Of course we are, you know our house is always open to anybody.”
“YAY!”
“But you’re clearly not thrilled about it,” Storgen noticed.
“Look, Storgen, I know we just met, and I apologize if I seem cautious, but you have to understand I am a father, and I nearly lost my child the other day. If you were in my position, how would you react?”
Storgen looked at the warm atmosphere inside, then glanced over to Pops, who had fallen asleep on the bench and was snoring loudly.
“No, you’re right, Mr. Thavma. If I were you and she was my daughter, I’d turn me away.”
Philiastra opened her mouth in shock. “Storge!”
>
“No, he’s right Phili. Look at this. You have a wonderful life. You have a warm home and a loving family…and I…”
He looked at his battered reflection in the glass. “I am a threat to all of that.”
Storgen turned to her parents and placed the crumped up wanted poster in their hands. “Mr. and Mrs. Thavma. I am sorry for placing your daughter at risk. She’s a good person, and she should have a good life. I’ll be on my way now.”
“But what about you?” Philiastra called out.
Storgen reached down and hefted Pops up over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“I’ll find another way to raise the money.”
As her parents unfolded the paper, she ran up to Storgen. “I’m coming with you.”
“No, Phili. Don’t you get it? If they caught me, your whole family would be punished. They’d be stripped of their citizenship, they’d be facing real jail time for abetting. I’m poison to you. Just stay away from me before you get hurt again.”
She pumped her fist and flexed her arm. “I won’t get hurt. I can fight. And besides, if something went wrong, you’d save me.”
Storgen looked down sadly. “I can’t save you from myself, Phili. I’m no good for you.”
He turned and walked away, leaving Philiastra devastated.
“I’m no good for anyone.”
Sensing her daughter’s pain, Phyllis stepped up and hugged her from behind.
Philiastra sniffed, her eyes growing moist.
“Storge, you…”
* * *
“…YOU IDIOT!”
Priestesses scattered in fright as Ambera picked up a lounger and threw it across the vaulted room, turning the priceless piece of furniture into splinters and shreds against the wall of the temple sanctum.
“That disgusting fish-muncher! How dare he talk to me like that?!”
She slammed her fist into the great banquet table, snapping it in half and tossing exotic fruits and pastries in all directions. “Nobody talks to me like that!”
Her skin flashing red with anger, she kicked a stone column, the marble smashing to pieces. As slaves and priestesses ran for their lives, the entire west wall of the temple of Ambera came crashing down, filling the interior with dust and rubble.
“Doesn’t that clam-licker know who I am?!”
Erolina alone remained calm and controlled, fingering the locket around her neck as she leaned up against a mosaic of her gentle and loving goddess, which of course looked absolutely nothing like the real thing raging before her.
Ambrosia Page 9
