The Lure of Fools

by Jason James King

  Maely stepped out from behind the dressing screen and took one last look at Mull.

  My little brother, she thought.

  Although he had the face of a man, his child’s mind always made her think of him as a little boy.

  He needs you, an accusing voice said inside her head.

  Ez will take care of him, Maely told herself again, and then worried that she would lose her nerve, she pushed herself quietly out of their cabin.

  Ez will take care of him.

  Gymal was a bully, a self-important, pompous ass of a man. And, like all bullies, he had an advantage that gave him the power to push others around. In his case, it wasn’t physical stature, for he was a short, weaselly man, and though not yet into his forties, was already balding. No, Gymal was a well-finder, a man from a minor noble family and one of a hundred attaches to the king himself. His position was one of note to be sure, but, in reality, he held little real authority. He was just good at acting like he did.

  His family long possessed several utility talises, the most valuable being their dowsing stone. Unlike most talises, the dowsing stone didn’t need a charge to function. In fact, it was deliberately crafted so as to not to be able to hold a charge. This way the stone could sense the energy emitted by an Apeira well and shine more intensely the nearer it came to one. The octagon-cut amethyst stone was set in a golden medallion around Gymal’s his neck, proudly displayed to remind others that he was their better.

  Jekaran snorted to himself. The gaudy gold-colored medallion looked incongruous with the natural beauty of the talis’ amethyst-colored stone. It couldn’t have been the stone’s original setting. That had likely been lost long ago, forcing Gymal’s family to have the stone set in the obviously bargain-crafted medallion. Despite the noble status it could grant, talis possession alone did not make one rich, and Jekaran suspected Gymal’s family was likely considered poor among the nobility of the king’s court.

  Staring at his dousing stone made it all but impossible for Jekaran to ignore the sword stowed in the duffle he carried on his back, and sweat began to bead the back of his neck. The need to look over his shoulder settled on him like a possession, but when he turned around, the man with the mismatched eyes wasn’t there, ready to take what was left of his life.

  He breathed in and out, in and out. No Rikujo, but that didn’t mean he was out of danger. If Gymal found out that he had an illegal talis, that bitter little man would immediately have him arrested. Jekaran was certain of it.

  Jekaran again shrugged the duffle’s shoulder straps. It was something that he noticed was becoming a nervous tic. He’d have to watch that. He didn’t want to draw any more of Gymal’s attention than he had to.

  His thoughts circled back to the last few minutes he spent in the home he’d known all of his life. He and his uncle were saying their goodbyes, and Jekaran worried the talis would accidentally activate while in his bag, but Ez allayed those fears by telling him the sword had long since exhausted its Apeiron charge.

  “What does it do?” he had asked, but Ez wouldn’t give him a straight answer and Jekaran got the distinct impression Ez was hiding more than just what he knew about the talis.

  Not Ez, Argentus, he told himself. My uncle is The Invincible Shadow. That was going to take some getting used to.

  Even in a small village like Genra, people knew of the Rikujo. Jekaran had heard stories of the man people said couldn’t be caught or defeated. He came and went, and no man could stop him, he had once overheard an old peddler telling Vestus. Not Ez, Jekaran thought again, still having not fully processed the revelation. He tried not to think of the murders Argentus was said to have committed. Had his uncle really killed men? He hoped it was only men. Ez is not the man he was, he told himself again. If Jekaran had ever had any doubt about his uncle’s conversion to Rasheera, and the transformation that turned a ruthless crime lord into a gentle farmer, he need only think of Ez’s eyes. He could now recognize sadness and regret in those eyes, but they were not the eyes of a murderer.

  “Line up!” Gymal shouted in his nasally voice.

  He did not dismount from his ghern, and Jekaran knew it was because of the man’s inferiority complex. Doesn’t want to be shorter than any of the other men in the company, he thought sourly, and he likes the status symbol of the ghern. Faster and more expensive than a bullock, the long-haired, bipedal mammals were financially out of reach of the peasant class.

  Jekaran fell into line, his position ending up toward the end in between two large men with brown skin. He folded his arms behind his back to resemble the military stance he had seen soldiers take when they were being addressed by their captains.

  Gymal casually rode his ghern down the line looking each man square in the face as they spoke their names. He waited for his secretary to confirm that they were on the roll before moving onto the next man until he at last came to Jekaran.

  “Jekaran,” Gymal drawled before Jekaran could state his name. He reined in his ghern and glowered down at him.

  “Yes, Lord Gymal.” He forced his tone to stay respectful. Only an hour in Gymal’s presence and he was already irritated with the pompous, little man.

  “I thought your name was removed from the roll.” Gymal frowned.

  “Must be a clerical error as I signed up weeks ago.” Jekaran cast a glance down the line at Vestus, whom he hoped hadn’t heard what he had just said.

  “I am surprised you signed up at all,” Gymal said. “After all the trouble you caused me last year.

  “Trouble, my lord?” Jekaran asked, trying to keep his tone steady.

  The year previous, Jekaran had retaliated against Gymal’s bullying by waging a secret campaign of practical jokes on the lord. Somehow Gymal had figured out who was behind it and, although he had no proof, threatened to press charges against Jekaran. Apparently, Gymal thought his threat would’ve kept Jekaran away from this year’s well-find. Well, he was wrong.

  Gymal leaned down from his ghern and hissed, “Don’t play dumb with me, peasant! I know it was you that let that salamander loose in my personal latrine! And I know you were the one who hired that male prostitute to pay me a visit in front of all of the men.”

  Guess he didn’t figure out that I was also the one who gave his ghern diarrhea. Jekaran had fed the beast buckets of curdled milk in the middle of the night. The constant mess was bad, but the smell was worse. He tried not to smile now at the memory. Gymal wouldn’t like that act of insubordination.

  “Please, Lord Gymal.” Jekaran worked to sound as respectful as he could. “I would never dishonor you so.”

  Gymal snorted skeptically. “If we weren’t in need of more strong backs, I would tell you to go home, but it is what it is.” Then he added in a low tone, “If I ever find proof that you had a hand in humiliating me, or if you try something like that again, I swear that you will spend no less than a year in the king’s dungeons! Understand?”

  Jekaran was about to reply with a veiled insult when the sword secreted in the bag on his back made him think better of it. “Yes, my lord,” he finally said. It irked him that he would have to treat Gymal carefully on this trip. At least it’s only for a short time. He only had to endure the man’s presence until he reached Rasha and found Irvis.

  Gymal’s glare lingered on Jekaran for several long seconds before moving on to the next man, who confidently announced his name as “Tork.” Next he heard Vestus state his name followed by his adult son Haulek. The roll call continued until ending with a shy, skinny boy named Lyam.

  Lyam? Jekaran leaned forward. There was something familiar about that voice.

  “Your name is not on the roll,” Gymal accused. “And you are obviously too young. I doubt you could even lift a pickaxe.”

  He couldn’t hear the boy’s soft reply, but, whatever he said, it made Gymal stare at him for a long, awkward moment.

  “Fine,” Jekaran heard Gymal concede. “But don’t think you will receive the same pay as the other men and don’t t
hink this will be a holiday. Since you’re too young to mine, you’re going to be digging latrines, carrying water, and a host of other unpleasant work.”

  The boy dipped his head in thanks.

  Gymal turned and trotted his ghern back to face the center of the line. In his irritatingly condescending way, he asked, “Raise your hand if this is your first well-find.” After a moment’s hesitation, about a third of the men’s hands went up. Gymal pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “This is a dowsing stone.” He raised the amulet off of his chest by its chain. “It allows me to know when we are near an Apeira well. The king’s polymaths study the land and use several means to ascertain possible excavation sites. It falls to me to locate the exact spot of the well, and you to dig it up. Understand?”

  There was a collective response of agreement.

  “If we are successful in finding a well, the king will pay me a finder’s fee out of which I will pay each of you. The usually wage is fifty silver Aies’.” Gymal made a point of looking at Jekaran before warning, “But that amount may decrease based on individual performance.”

  Jekaran gritted his teeth. That had been the one downside to his campaign of pranks the prior year. Although Gymal hadn’t had proof to formally prosecute Jekaran for tormenting him, his suspicions had significantly impacted Jekaran’s pay. In fact, last year, he had only received half of what the other men on the expedition had been paid.

  Gymal’s lecturing faded as Jekaran’s attention turned to the road behind him. What would Mae and Mull do when they found out he and Ez left them? He knew what his uncle said about the two being old enough to care for themselves to be true, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was abandoning them.

  He had asked Ez if he could go to their cabin and say goodbye, but his uncle said that could put them in danger. The argument was brief, and Jekaran finally conceded the point. Another stab of grief dug into his chest. He was leaving two people whom he considered family, leaving them without any explanation.

  Perhaps Ez is just being paranoid. Perhaps we can come back in a few months. He hoped so, and that thought was the only thing soothing his pain and guilt.

  Movement at Jekaran’s sides told him Gymal was done lecturing them. He looked to his right and saw the wheels of the supply wagons begin to turn as the driver whipped the team of bullocks into action.

  “Goodbye,” Jekaran whispered to the wind.

  Ezra—it had taken him years before he had started calling himself that in his own mind—dug frantically inside the old trunk. He was in the cellar again, this time going through storage and looking for a few of Argentus’ old possessions. The trunk had not weathered the years well. Moisture warped the wood and blasted Ezra with a strong musty odor the moment he lifted the lid. If Jekaran were here and Ezra had said as much out loud, the boy probably would’ve made some quip about how he was just like the trunk – old and stinky. That made him chuckle, but the mirth immediately evaporated as he thought about the task he had set his nephew to.

  “Damn me,” he whispered. I should’ve gotten rid of the sword years ago. But his fear someone else would find it kept him from doing so. Liar, he chided himself. That wasn’t the real reason he hadn’t disposed of the talis, and he knew it. Even after all these years, being apart from it made him uneasy, though not in the same way it had when charged. He imagined that was probably a psychological side effect of the bond-breaking.

  Divine Mother, please see that my boy doesn’t walk the same path of sorrow I have trod. Don’t let anything happen to him, and don’t let it get a hold of him. Ezra’s mental prayer had no sooner ended than he found what he was digging in the trunk for – a cloth bag full of jewelry.

  “HA!” Ezra exulted, pulled out the bag and left the cellar.

  Ezra scooted onto the kitchen floor to sit cross-legged and dumped out the contents of the bag in front of him. A ring, a bracelet, and an earring clattered against the wooden floor. Each piece of jewelry was cast of a different precious metal: the ring of gold, the bracelet of silver, and the earring of platinum. But they all had an amethyst stone set into them, a stone from an Apeira well. They were talises.

  He stared at them, knowing he probably should’ve sold the talises years ago as leaving the Rikujo drove him into near destitution. But a farmer selling powerful talises would have certainly drawn the attention of his former friends, to say nothing of Gymal’s family who governed their province. He picked up the ring first, and, although not really surprised, he was disappointed to find the talis completely drained of an Apeiron charge. The bracelet also proved to be empty of the energy that would enable its magical effects. But the earring still held a charge. Not a full charge, but enough to get a few uses out of it. Ezra smiled as he examined the small platinum spike capped by an amethyst stone. Of the three, this was the most useful.

  Thank you, Rasheera, he prayed.

  He lifted the earring to his ear, found the place where there was once a hole in the soft tissue, and then pressed the pin of the earring into his flesh until it pierced through his ear lobe. He gritted his teeth and sucked in a sharp breath, but a quick stinging followed by a little bit of blood was worth the power the earring would grant him. He fitted a small, metal clutch onto the pin protruding out of the back, and immediately felt a connection form between himself and the talis.

  Ezra scooped up the bracelet and ring and deposited them back into the cloth bag. He then stood, groaning slightly as his joints protested. “The Invincible Shadow,” he scoffed at himself, “has arthritis.”

  Ezra hurried into his small bedchamber and dug a leather satchel out from beneath his bed. He opened the top flap, loosed the drawstring, and shoved his bag of talises into the mouth of the satchel. Leaving the bag waiting on his bed, he went to the closet, indiscriminately grabbing clothing, and returned to stuff the pile into his satchel. He was cinching the drawstring when something on the nightstand caught his eye.

  Ezra dropped the bag and walked around the foot of his bed to stare at a framed image of his sister, an image created just two years before she died. It had been a harvest celebration gift. He remembered the day he had paid an exorbitant amount for one of the visiting merchants with a color trap talis to make it. She had insisted that he have his image trapped for her as well. It was all Ezra had left of her.

  No, that’s not true. I have Jekaran, he thought. Jekaran, Anarilee’s only son. And he just sent him into the wicked world carrying something more dangerous than a venomous snake. Ezra’s eyes fell onto the second image, the one of Jekaran at fourteen. In the picture, he stood next to his nephew, who at the time was of the same height. Now Jekaran was a good two inches taller than Ezra.

  It had been another harvest celebration gift, this time from Jekaran to him. Unbeknownst to Ezra, his nephew had been hiring out with Vestus for odd jobs and saving the money. It very nearly made Ezra cry when he found out.

  “The Invincible Shadow crying,” he scoffed again.

  Ezra scooped up both framed images and was about to stuff them in his satchel when a loud sound startled him. Before he knew it, his belt knife was in his hand, and he was crouching low and peeking out of his room toward the sound. It was pounding on his door that he had heard. Again, the pounding came in a short burst, and Ezra thought he could he hear someone outside laughing. Wait, not laughing, he realized, but weeping.

  Ezra stood and carefully walked to the door. As he did so, he heard the wailing louder and immediately recognized the voice. Ezra quickly unbolted the door and found Mulladin kneeling on the ground, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.

  “Mulladin!” Ezra said as he sheathed his knife and crouched next to the man.

  Not a man, he had to remind himself, a child in a man’s body. “What’s wrong, son?” Ezra asked in a tender voice.

  “Where’s Mae?” Mulladin violently shook his head and moaned as he rocked back and forth.

  That’s when Ezra saw a crumpled paper clutched in the boy-man’s left hand. “What’s this?
” he asked as he reached down and gently pulled the paper out of Mulladin’s clenched fist. He unfolded it to find an envelope.

  Ezra stood and opened it. Inside was a note scrawled in Maely’s neat, slanted handwriting. He felt a flash of pride over the girl. She had not known her letters when Ezra took to watching over them, but that was one of the first things he had set to change. And, despite his clumsy efforts to educate Maely, the girl had learned to read and write faster than Jekaran had.

  Uncle Ez, the letter began, I have left to go with Jek on the well-find. I am dressed like a boy, so don’t worry, no one will know it’s me. I am going to keep an eye on Jek to make sure he minds his manners and comes home safe. Please take care of my brother while I am gone. I know it’s a lot to ask, but he will need someone to look after him. I am sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I knew you would never have let me go if I had.

  Love,

  Maely.

  And then there were postscripts with instructions for what Mulladin liked to eat and other routine things the boy-man needed in order to keep him happy and calm.

  “Damn it!” Ezra snarled as he crumpled the paper. The girl couldn’t have picked a worse time to go chasing after Jekaran.

  Maely claimed her reason for going was to keep an eye on Jek, but Ezra knew the truth. She was deeply in love with him, but his thick-witted nephew was totally oblivious to the fact. Ezra had hoped in a few years that he would’ve caught on, and that the two would marry, but all of those hopes evaporated the moment he heard Kaul had come looking for him.

  “Come on, Mull,” Ezra said as he reached down and helped the weeping man stand to his feet.

  “Where’s Mae?” he asked again, his words punctuated with hiccupping sobs.

  He gently pulled Mulladin into the house and closed the door behind him. “She went on a trip, with Jek.”

  That was the wrong thing to say, for as soon as the words fell from Ezra’s lips, Mulladin started to wail and shake his head again.