by Khalid Uddin
“We were out on missions – all of us that you met at that inn, The Colored Road. The other three – Desmond, Badalao, and Marshall – had been in Marshall’s village looking for something, but the mission was cut short because Adria and Gunnar were taken. I was already in the City of the Fallen, looking for some items to help with my healing manifestation. I got bored and went to grab a few pints. Ladies tend to be attracted to that place–the type of ladies that love to get a little drunk and crazy, especially with Descendants.
“Anyway, Marlowe gives us a small grace period to relax when we return from missions. That way we don’t have to overexert ourselves as soon as we return. I assume since you just arrived here, he’s allowing you the same privilege so that you’re not overwhelmed. Don’t worry; he will have certain expectations of you soon. Enjoy this while it lasts.”
Baltaszar nodded, “Got it.”
“Do people call you anything? Or do I have to say Baltaszar every time?”
Baltaszar smirked. “Back home they called me ‘Tasz’. Well a few people did, anyway.”
Lincan contemplated. “Tasz works. Or do you prefer ‘Balt’? I could call you Balt from now on.”
“Tasz will do just fine. What about you? ‘Linc’ or ‘Can’?”
Lincan glared at Baltaszar with a somewhat suppressed smile. “Linc.”
“How long have you been here?”
Lincan scratched his head once more. “Less than a year. Honestly, I should have come earlier. My parents were reluctant to let me go for a while, though. I think they felt guilty for sending me off the first time. Almost like they thought I felt unwanted or unloved by them. I understood why they did everything, though. This world isn’t good or bad. It’s just full of people who fall in the middle of all that. Sometimes good people have to do bad things. Go against their consciences. But when you think about what options they have, the choice they make isn’t really such a bad thing. My parents sent me away because it was my best chance at staying alive. That’s all it was.” Lincan looked up at Baltaszar. “What about you, Tasz? How did you actually end up coming here?”
Baltaszar sighed deeply and waited a moment to speak. “It’s not a story that I feel like retelling every time I meet a new person here. Can you help me with something?”
Lincan nodded, “Of course.”
“If people ask, or if I happen to be mentioned in conversation, just tell my story. It’ll be easier for me to get acclimated if people know about my situation already. I’m not saying you have to go around telling everyone about me, but…”
“I get it. That’s no problem. If you don’t want to talk about it right now, I understand.”
“I don’t mind telling you. The way I see it, we’ll be seeing each other every day–you might as well get to know me pretty well. The thing is, my father lied to me about this line for my whole life. I feel stupid that I thought it was a scar for so long, but to be honest, I never had any reason to think otherwise. And it’s not like anyone else in that stupid town ever said it was anything different, so how was I supposed to know? Anyway, my father ended up taking the fall for my manifestation, because people accused him of starting all the fires and I guess he didn’t want to put me in danger.”
“So your village…”
“Haedon.”
Lincan looked at him quizzically. “People in Haedon were all opposed to Descendants? But wouldn’t they know what was on your face, then?”
“No…the people there,” Baltaszar thought about Marlowe swearing him to secrecy, “they just didn’t know about any of it. I don’t know why, considering how the rest of the world is. But that’s the reason my father was executed in the first place. Everyone in town accused him of practicing dark magic. There was no way he would’ve gotten out of being killed.” Baltaszar was unsure of whether he was actually defending Oran Von. “Anyway, my twin brother and I left Haedon the night my father was executed. We ended up going separate ways because he didn’t trust where I was going. Bo’az has always been somewhat hesitant about tough decisions. He wanted to stay there and go back to our house. He wasn’t ready to leave yet. Someone named Slade tracked me down in my village and told me to find my way here. He pointed me in the right direction and what he said made sense, so I listened.”
“Someone named Slade? You didn’t know this person?”
“He apparently knew my father and knew of me. He knew things about me that no one had any business knowing. Besides, where else did I have to go? Up until that point, my plans in life were to stay in Haedon, get married if any woman would accept this blasted line on my face, have a family, and get old. Before that night, I had no idea there was even a world beyond the Never. If Slade hadn’t found me, my options would have been to either survive in the forest or give in to Bo’az and return to our house. There was likely more danger in those choices than following Slade’s instructions. Even now, I have no clue if Bo’az is safe. If people knew he’d returned to our house, his life would be in danger. Marlowe told me that I could go back there once I’ve finished reading The Book of Orijin. Have you read it?”
Lincan scratched his head, “I just finished reading it a few weeks ago. It is a very compelling read.”
“What is it even about?”
“One of the first Descendants to bear the Mark wrote it. Arild Hammersland. He was able to communicate with the Orijin. So the book is pretty much the lessons that the Orijin imparted on Hammersland. Rules to live by. How to treat people. History. Mistakes of mankind. Things like that. To be honest, for someone like you, who has very little knowledge of the world, I think it would be very interesting and helpful. I think once you complete it, it wouldn’t matter that you lived in the middle of the forest for seventeen years.” Lincan gave him a toothy grin.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. Besides, it turns out that I’m directly related to this Hammersland guy. That was my mother’s surname. So I owe it to my ancestry to read it.”
Lincan’s eyes shot up as he stared at Baltaszar. “You’re a descendant of Hammersland and your mother never mentioned it?”
Baltaszar bit his lip and tightly shook his head. “Do not feel bad when I tell you this, because you had no way of knowing. But, my mother died when I was a few years old. Wait, that’s not true any longer. I just found out from Marlowe that my mother was abducted when I was a few years old. I have no recollection of her whatsoever.”
Lincan looked down, “Wow. I’m sorry Tasz. It’s true, I had no way of knowing; but still, you’ve had a tough go at life so far. I can’t imagine how someone goes through all that you have and isn’t just angry all the time.”
“I have my moments. I’m not really an angry person, though. I just try to focus on the upside of situations.
“Things will be better here. Trust me. I’m not going to pretend like this place doesn’t have its flaws, but I think most people who come here come from a more difficult situation, and end up being happier. I haven’t been here that long, but I am glad that I came.”
Baltaszar nodded. “Thanks. Have you made many friends here?”
“So far, I’ve become well acquainted with a few of the others that are new here. You met them all already. And there are more that I am friendly with, just not as close. My biggest goal, though, is to get the girls to flock to this room.” Lincan arose from his bed and picked up a wooden contraption held together by strings. “It’s been difficult so far, but I think this is the key.”
Baltaszar’s brow furrowed, “What is it?”
“It’s a harp,” Lincan chuckled. “Girls love men that can play instruments and the harp is a very sensuous one. I’ve been practicing for a few months now and nearly every day I leave the door open and play. I think I just have to get a little better at it and that will be the difference.”
Baltaszar masked his disbelief. “Sure. Just keep practicing.” He’s going to do this every day?
Just as Baltaszar completed his sentence, the door swung open and Horatio stepped in as
if the room had belonged to him. “There you fellas are.” He walked in and sat at the edge of Baltaszar’s bed. “I was supposed to go back over to speak to Zin Marlowe but I wanted to find you first and see where your room was. I’m one floor up, but I’m sure I’ll be around here all the time.”
Lincan cut off Horatio’s next words, “If you are supposed to meet with Marlowe, I would strongly urge you to go do that now. He does not like to wait, especially for novices like us. Marlowe is a very busy man, very private. He spends much of his time alone in his office. You should go there right now.”
“I just wanted to say hello…”
“I’m not kicking you out, Horatio. We’ll be here when you have finished. Seriously. A meeting with Marlowe is not to be taken lightly, especially on your first day at the House.”
Horatio looked to Baltaszar. “I just met with him, Raish. Lincan is right, the man is all business. That’s not the man that you want to annoy as soon as you get here. Like Linc said, we are not going anywhere.” Baltaszar had tried to sound as genuine and amiable as possible.
Horatio nodded, “That’s true. So…I’ll stop in after I speak to him.” Lincan glanced at Baltaszar and rolled his eyes. Horatio stood and left the room. “See you later.”
As soon as the door had completely shut, Lincan huffed and looked wide-eyed at Baltaszar. “That boy…he’s got something missing, right? He’s a fish-brain.”
Baltaszar laughed, “Horatio is a bit goofy, but he’s all right. He means well and just gets excited easily. For all I care, he can be as strange as he wants. He saved my life during a standoff with the King’s soldiers. So if it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t even be here right now. I’m sure you noticed me limping a bit. If Horatio hadn’t killed the King’s soldiers and gotten me to Khiry, the best scenario for me would’ve been a lost leg.”
“Fine. I’ll refrain from judgments, then. If you’re willing to vouch for him, then I’ll go easy on him.”
***
“And that’s where the problem lies. I don’t want to throw it away, but if it’s too hot for me, then how can it be put to good use?” Lincan cradled the glass jar in his palm. He had purchased it as a guilty pleasure in the City of the Fallen on his last trip. It contained a liquid spirit, a condiment made from venom tail peppers, the hottest he’d ever tasted. The effects had been much worse than he’d expected. For Lincan, it had resulted in frequent races to the outhouse the first night, when he’d mixed a few drops in his soup at dinner.
Baltaszar had tasted a drop from the tip of his finger three days before and spent the whole night awake because of constant tearing, drooling, and numerous trips to the outhouse as well. The same had happened to Horatio, Badalao, Marshall, and Desmond at various points of the past week. Lincan had only given the paste to a few people to try; he didn’t want to get in trouble for causing harm to strangers.
Baltaszar, Desmond, Marshall, Badalao, and Horatio all sat around the dark room with him. One flame existed, hovering in the middle of the room as they sat around it. Lincan had to admit, in the past few months, Baltaszar had learned quite well about using his manifestation. For someone who had only found out about it on his way to the House of Darian, Baltaszar was advancing rather well.
Most of the House slept, and they should have all been doing the same in their respective quarters, but many nights had been like this in the past few weeks. Baltaszar, Lincan’s roommate, had been at the House just over a month and they’d gotten on quite well, aside from Baltaszar being a little too sarcastic at times. Horatio was in the room just as much, so often times it felt as though Lincan had a second roommate. Horatio no longer annoyed him, though. He’d frequently proven to be good company. The six of them had bonded well, and most nights went this way, with all of them sitting in Lincan’s and Baltaszar’s room, letting the conversation go where it may.
Marshall responded to the dilemma. “That thing should just be thrown out and kept out of everyone’s hands. Literally.” Lincan couldn’t tell if Marshall had suppressed a smile, but the rest of them snickered. A week ago Marshall, while taking spoonful of the spirit on a dare from Desmond, had a droplet splash into his eye. Desmond had washed his eye while Badalao had run off to retrieve a jug of milk and a loaf of bread for Marshall. Marshall’s eye was still red. The six of them were the only ones in the entire House that knew why.
Baltaszar spoke excitedly, “Wait, have any of you told others in the House about the spirit? Does anyone else know about it besides us? He looked around to Lincan and the others with a half-grin. They all shook their heads or mumbled a negative response. He looked at Lincan and then at Badalao.
Lincan grinned; he knew what Baltaszar had in mind. “Lao, you have kitchen duty tomorrow, right?”
Desmond stood up demonstratively. He waved a finger at Lincan and Baltaszar, “I know what ya both have in mind…let’s do it!
Badalao arose next to Desmond. “I’ll be in the kitchen again tomorrow for dinner.” He looked knowingly at the rest of them. “We will definitely be serving soup.”
“So how do we ensure that this is successful? I would love for as many people to suffer as much as I have.” Marshall waved his fist in the air, as if the success of the plan would bring him vengeance.
Baltaszar spoke from his bed, “The jar is small enough to conceal, especially if we walk to the mess hall in a group. Once we get there, we get on line and distract any witnesses while Linc gives Lao the jar. Lao, you can dump it in quickly, right?” Badalao nodded a confirmation.
“Right, that would ensure that we don’t get bad soup–we’ll take ours before Lao dumps the jar in. Then we sit down and eat dinner,” Lincan chimed in.
“Linc, you can pass Lao the jar at the counter.” Desmond waved his hands about to demonstrate. “Me, Tasz, Raish, an’ Marshall will stand aroun’ ya an’ make sure that nobody else is lookin when that happens. We can’t get there too early or else people will notice.”
Lincan nodded quickly. He was excited about this plan. They rarely had a chance to have fun within the walls of the House, and the risk involved with this idea had him wishing it was the next day already. “All right, we’ll arrive at dinner at the same time we always do. There are still scores of people who usually arrive after us. I think everything is set.” The others nodded in approval and departed.
In the past few months since they’d all grown close at the House, they’d caused a great deal of mischief. Innocent mischief, however, such as sabotaging out-houses, spreading untrue gossip, hiding to scare unsuspecting passers-by. One night, a few of the others had shown up in Lincan’s bedroom in the middle of the night. They’d worn masks and hoods, but Lincan had known it was them right away. Marshall had been the leader in a plot to tie Lincan up. They had meant to bring him into the forest and leave him there. Tasz had sworn it was only going to be for an hour or so. As a result, Lincan organized a plot to kidnap Marshall in his sleep and leave him in the common room naked. Marshall had slept through the whole thing, until waking up the next morning.
This plot would be much worse, yet also better than anything they’d done before.
***
Lincan sat down at the round table and quickly suppressed a smile. Marshall, Desmond, Horatio, and Baltaszar set down their trays and sat, trying to look around without seeming obvious. Marshall asked quietly, “Did Lao say how long it would take? Was he able to do it right away?”
Lincan matched Marshall’s volume, “He said he’s bonded most of the other kitchen workers, so he should have been able to distract their minds and make them focus on other things while he emptied the jar.” Mission complete. Now we wait and see what happens. The five of them all received Badalao’s thought simultaneously, and looked at one another and smiled.
Desmond pointed out, “Good thing sunset still comes late. Else Lao wouldn’t’ve been able ta tell us anythin’.”
Baltaszar responded, “See? Now we sit here and enjoy the proceedings.”
They ate their food s
lowly, agreeing to save their soup until last, just in case anyone noticed they’d finished their soup and hadn’t felt any ill effects. A few minutes later, their plan began to take effect. Lincan heard a girl two tables over exclaim to her friends, “Light of Orijin, the soup is so hot! I can’t feel my tongue!”
The men at the table next to them huffed and coughed into their handkerchiefs as tears flowed down their cheeks. Another young man their age jogged past them to the counter, interrupting those who were receiving their dinner trays. He spoke directly to Badalao, waving his hands and fanning his mouth. It took all the fortitude that Lincan and the others could muster not to laugh.
Badalao provided them with another update after a few more people approached him. Luther overheard the complaints. He told me to add more broth and stir the soup some more. Lincan could practically hear the laughter in Badalao’s voice. Luther was the head of the kitchen and a very stubborn man. The kitchen used his recipes and he hated being criticized. If people were complaining about Luther’s soup, nothing much would be done about it. Luther was pompous enough that he likely wouldn’t even taste the soup to entertain people’s complaints. Lincan appreciated the brilliance of their plan.
As more moments passed by, the room was filled with red, tear-filled faces, hands fanning mouths, gasps, and a ridiculous number of requests for water jug refills. Lincan held no ill will toward any of the people in the large room, and he was sure that his co-conspirators felt the same way, but he could not help but feel a guiltless amusement at the events unfolding. The five of them agreed to depart and leave their soup noticeably untouched, as well as to go directly to their respective quarters to avoid any suspicion.
He and Baltaszar barely spoke before going to sleep. If anyone might’ve been listening, they wanted to avoid incrimination. Lincan fell asleep quite easily, much more so than he’d anticipated. He woke up early the following morning and roughly scratched his head at the first thought – a rather alarming one - that entered his mind. He craned his head to see Baltaszar sitting up on his bed, against the wall, sketching away on a parchment pad that Maven Savaiyon had given him. He whispered imperatively, “Tasz!” Baltaszar glanced up from his sketchbook. “I just realized-what if the liquid spirit caused some sort of allergic reaction? What if we seriously hurt someone?”
