The Creed

by Perla Giannotti

  After two full days in absolute silence, Marrhit sidled up to Selot. The boy had his head fixed to the road, but his eyes were lost in something else. His lips were moving ever so slightly, silently repeating a few words. Marrhit guessed he was praying and shook his head. “We have to spend the night in this city. We have to get news. I know a place that will get us both.”

  Selot nodded. “How shall we pay?” he asked. The Uicics did not use money. Their simple economic model was based on collaboration and sharing, and so there was no need for monetary value. Marrhit stared at Selot dismayed.

  “We do not have to pay, stupid,” he stressed.

  They went through the doors of the city just before they closed. It was almost dusk. Marrhit moved through crooked alleyways sure of his step, until he reached the inn with a coat of arms representing a golden rooster on a blue background. They left their horses with a stable hand who met them with much haste. He was a boy of about twelve or thirteen years of age. Marrhit handed over his horse reluctantly after catching a glimpse of a badly equipped stable.

  “Brush him down at least three times, and redo the braids on his mane. I expect a job well-done.” The boy was intimidated by his peremptory tone. Selot led his own horse into the stable himself to take care of him, but the very young stable hand rushed to take the reins, “I am here to serve you,” he said nervously. Selot was speechless, then he understood. He and Marrhit were dressed up in their warrior garb: the clothes, the saddles, the cloaks woven with gold. It all denoted luxury and wealth. Their numerous weapons with gemstones finely forged were evident; their horses were thoroughbreds, the best that ever existed. All together, it gave them the air of being great lords. Marrhit appeared to fill the role with ease and he looked down on the stable boy severely. He then headed towards the entrance of the inn. Selot hesitated. He read the fear in the eyes of the boy that these warriors did not have faith in his work, and that they would complain about him to the owner of the inn. He read the fear of not receiving his daily rations, most likely bread and fruit. He therefore handed him the reins and thanked him, accepting for the first time in his life to be served. Marrhit and Selot stepped over the threshold of the local inn. Upon entering, all heads turned attentively and fearfully. The chatter and the noise of cutlery died down to nothing. It was rare to see two warriors of this type, with these shiny, foreign weapons made of such precious metals. Curiosity mingled with fear. They weren’t guards, nor officials of the kingdom. They didn’t have the air of mercenaries. Their clothing were ones of noblemen, of very high rank, but there was no symbol with which to identify them. In this sober and severe elegance, it was all too obvious they were dressed with one objective only. Not for show, but for war. For one thing, the variety and number of weapons spoke for themselves. Their behavior left no room for doubt. Their way of moving and claiming the space around them, forced everybody into great silence.

  The innkeeper waited for them nervously behind the counter.

  “Welcome to the tavern of the Golden Rooster, my lords,” he pronounced as a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. “You can eat in abundance and very well here. I shall arrange the very best rooms.” He waved to the waiter who promptly set to work in preparing a table. After personally accompanying the two to the table, he went back to reviving conversations and bringing the atmosphere back to a normal level. When the usual noise of the tavern was back, Marrhit turned to Selot. It was a look of stone.

  “The man sitting at the table opposite the wall, to your left,” he whispered. Selot took a quick look in that direction. An apparently very normal looking man was quietly drinking his beer.

  “He’s a leader of the army. He knows we are Vetems and has decided to speak to his superiors, so they can warn the Governor of Neuk. The order has been given and spread by the central governing body: to inform of every suspected Vetem. Over these last few months, while Janavel has been trying to teach you something, the Congregation has been at work. We have lost precious time because of your ineptness.” Selot ignored his usual scornful tone.

  “Are you certain?”

  As a way of answer, Marrhit installed the images he’d captured from the man’s conscience into Selot’s mind. With a very specific vision, Selot distinctly saw the man in the palace of the governor, lined up in an orderly fashion along with a platoon of guards, as the commander of the military garrison of Neuk outlined the orders of the kingdom.

  Civilians must not know... How to identify a Vetem, how to defend against them, how to behave in their presence...

  “How do you do that?” Selot asked, stunned. “How can you capture entire pieces of the life of a person, but, most of all, how can you...put it in my head?”

  Marrhit sighed with an air of self-importance. “You really are a half-wit, Selot. You take care of that man,” he said, finally sitting, “and then, do me a favor. Look for another table, I can’t bear your company.” He turned in the direction of the innkeeper, using the language of the Kingdom of Dar. “A woman for tonight. Decent, or I’ll hand her back in pieces.” The innkeeper was startled.

  “We are not...we are not that type of inn lord...” he said, overcome with panic. Marrhit’s face produced a chilling smile. “Your daughters will do fine.” His smile widened even more. “Both of them,” he said, savoring the moment. “Go and call them immediately. I want them ready for when I finish dinner. Hurry up.”

  The innkeeper gulped and made to protest, but an instant later his eyes went blank and his fear dried up too.

  “Bring them here to me first,” Marrhit ordered in a very low tone. “I want to see them.” The innkeeper, prisoner to his mind, disappeared behind a side door. He came back a few minutes later, dragging behind him two reluctant girls by the hand. A little more than girls.

  “Ah...well,” Marrhit commented looking them over with lust. None of the observers made to object.

  “Go into a room upstairs and wait for me,” Marrhit added ominously. Under the effect of his voice, the two girls went glassy-eyed, and were docilely led upstairs by their father. Selot, who was still on his feet, watched the scene wordlessly.

  “Why is that man at the end of the room still alive?” Marrhit asked him in a tone between distraction and disappointment. Selot did not reply. He was still deciding how to react. Marrhit sighed. I knew it, you are only an obstacle.” He got up and approached the man, who unwarily lifted his eyes. A second later he felt a blow to his heart. His head fell slowly onto his chest. Marrhit went back to his table. Once he was seated, the man was already dead, and everyone around him was convinced he was simply very drunk. Selot took a seat in front of him.

  “You take life all too lightly.” And before Marrhit could get out his reply imbibed with poisonous words, Selot beat him to it. “And you will not touch those girls, tonight.”

  “I told you not to sit at my table. We do not get along me and you, Selot,” Marrhit hissed and it was like being close to a viper ready to strike.

  “No, we don’t get along,” Selot agreed calmly. Marrhit was impassable.

  “You haven’t learned a thing, Selot. We do not take the interests of mankind to heart.”

  “It is thanks to ones like you that makes mankind fear Vetems like monsters from hell.” Marrhit shook his head. “Teaching you is a waste of time. Each one chooses whatever he wishes. Each one is free to do so, each one knows the consequences of their own actions. Didn’t Janavel explain any of this to you?”

  “You bend everything to your own good, even the words of a master. That is not how it works.”

  “You are an idiot without a backbone, Selot. There are no rules for me.”

  “I’m here,” Selot retorted with the same stony tone. “Stealing the will of others is a cowardly action. To bend people to your own personal desires is revolting as well as pathetic. What is it Marrhit? Are you afraid no woman will have you and you’ll have to go without for the night? Do you really need one that much? Why do you always use this miserable excuse? Do you honestl
y need to carry out these vile acts in order to feel good?”

  Marrhit was filling up with hate. All of Selot’s questions had hit the mark. The hate was so palpable that everyone in the inn felt uncomfortable and nervous, even though they had no idea why. Some felt ill. Others stood up, overcome with nausea. The innkeeper took his head in his hands, overtaken by an intense headache. Many began to leave and once they had distanced themselves, felt better already. “Fresh air! Suffocating in there, devil be!” said someone without knowing there really was a devil in there. In short, aside from the dead man, there were only a pair of drunks who were too far gone to get to their feet, but with a confused idea they’d really overdone it this time. The innkeeper came in from the backdoor in search of a rag to wet and apply to his head which throbbed. That left Marrhit and Selot seated at the table, one in front of the other in direct challenge. Marrhit’s hate thickened like a heavy, black cloud that enveloped everything. Selot felt a gloomy force that suffocated him. He didn’t move however, and continued to stand up to him.

  “Leave me be, Selot. Do not interfere with my affairs. Stay in your place,” he threatened. The viper hidden in his words was about to strike.

  “What happened to your Uicic woman?” Marrhit licked his lips.

  “She is not here now, whereas those two very young daughters of the innkeeper are. What is your problem, Selot? What do you find so difficult to understand? Did they by chance castrate you at the Abbey?” He leered over and smirked about an inch away from Selot’s face. Tell me the truth half-wit, are you still in one piece under there? I know that Estela has the habit of taking care of mutilated animals, but I never thought she’d go that far. That girl really does have horrendous taste.” Selot did not back down a millimeter. He called Janavel’s severe looks to his mind when he forced him to not react to Marrhit’s offensive insults. He gulped, and tried to think quickly. He’d given Janavel the assurance there would never be another encounter with Marrhit. The easiest way would be to leave him to do as he pleased that evening with the daughters of the innkeeper. But he couldn’t do it, for more than one reason.

  Hurry, think. Two moves. First: make him so angry that he turns all his anger and attention onto you. That would be easy. He looked for the right words.

  “The trouble here Marrhit, is that you don’t seem to understand. You have thrown me to the ground and beaten me a hundred times, but in the two encounters under supervision, I defeated you. I sent your brain to take a trip ‘who-knows-where’, while I could simply have slit your throat like a goat. Marrhit, you are alive because I decided not to kill you those two times. And what would it take to kill me? It would be pretty easy. Have you ever thought about that?”

  Marrhit jumped to his feet and the table flew to the opposite side of the tavern with such force that it shattered into pieces against the wall. He was screaming and frenzied. Selot lifted himself up with the same fury, challenging him constantly. The two drunk men decided to get up. Their fear got the better of their drunken state, and they staggered to the door in absolute terror. The innkeeper was holed up in a corner at the back with his waiter. At that moment, the spell that had held him hostage in his own mind evaporated and he remembered his daughters. He slipped up an external staircase and went to recuperate them. They too had awakened from the nightmare Marrhit had plunged them in, and swiftly left with their father. Marrhit sensed it and shouted in anger that he’d been distracted by this fool in front of him. Selot realized straight away, and permitted himself a wry smile.

  Second move: put out the fire of fury that was ablaze. He had no idea how to do that. The demon Xàmvetem within Marrhit had woken up and it wouldn’t be easy now. His eyes were those of the devil.

  “Well Marrhit, what shall we do? Shall we put on a show of Vetem against Vetem so that by nightfall everyone in Neuk and shortly after, all the Congregation too, will know that we are here? Blow it all to pieces for a matter as insignificant as this?”

  “As always, you know nothing. You haven’t got the slightest idea of what I can do. For now it’s just you and me. No one can perceive it, not even the Council. That way they cannot use our Zav switches and stop me from killing you.” Marrhit’s voice was terrifying. Selot could barely breathe.

  “Don’t make me laugh,” he found the strength to say, “you did it that same morning I came to confront you, but they discovered us anyway.”

  “It was my woman who had informed the Council.”

  “She loves you,” Selot simply said. Marrhit ignored it.

  “You will pay dearly for that. And you shall pay for this too,” Marrhit said, grinding the words in his mouth. Selot clenched his jaw. “I will pay you what I must. I do not know of this debt you believe I owe you and that you take such pleasure in speaking of. You won’t even tell me what it is. Fine. Make me pay for it anyway. We both know: no one expects me to come out of this mission alive. Not even Janavel. Even less the Council. I expect it least of all. My survival is not an unexpected outcome and it would only be surprising news if I did. I am your shield, a sacrificial element. You will always know how to find me: I will remain by your side to carry out my duty till the very end. What will change for me? Fix your price and make me pay it.”

  Marrhit let out a heavy sigh and sat back down, his weight falling heavily on the chair in front of a table that no longer existed, reduced now to disconnected pieces of wood on the other side of the room. He breathed as if he were suddenly very tired.

  “Selot, you really are a son of a bitch; but I have to admit: you have a way of explaining things that convinces me. Fine. Let’s do our duty. I’ll kill you later. Now I’m hungry.” His hate disappeared like vapor through an open window, and wafted out into fresh air. Selot took up a table nearby and put it in front of him. He picked up whatever he could from the ground, a table cloth, cutlery, a glass and a metal carafe that had not ended up in pieces. He set the table nonchalantly and attentively, as Marrhit watched him in askance. In the meantime, the innkeeper showed his face from behind the counter. Selot bid him to come forward. Their words had been incomprehensible for his ears because they had spoken in the language of the Uicics.

  “Innkeeper!” Marrhit yelled in the language of Dar. “Food for me. And beer! Ale!” The innkeeper got to work together with the waiter. They finished setting the table and filled it with every delicacy they could find. Selot remained standing, far away. When the innkeeper had finished serving Marrhit, Selot called him over.

  “We have no money to pay for the food, nor lodgings...”

  “You will be my esteemed guests,” he hurried to accommodate the man, swearing to himself that if he got out of this alive he would tell it to generations of grandchildren. Selot shook his head.

  “Please allow me to sleep in the stable. I will pay you back by cleaning it and putting it in order. It’s in a mess right now, and I can tidy it up like new.” The innkeeper opened his arms wide, unable to understand what was happening. Marrhit watched Selot and scorned him. He remained unflustered in consuming his meal and even demanded a second helping.

  Selot went to the stable. The stable hand was curled up in a hay bale. He’d seen all the guests leave chaotically and had heard the strange noises from within. He was still wondering what was happening. Upon seeing the warrior he promptly got to his feet. Selot nodded at him to stay where he was. He threw a glance at how Marrhit’s horse’s mane had been braided. A slapdash job. The boy didn’t have the capability to do the complex task that had been asked of him.

  “May I help you?” he asked. The stable boy nodded, fearful. Selot let out the mane and then carefully and patiently redid the many very fine braids that Marrhit liked so much. He thread the decorations, many of which had not been positioned correctly. He recreated the elegant original geometry as would suit Marrhit’s refined taste. The final result was a fantastic, subtle embellishment. The boy looked on admiringly. “I wouldn’t have been able to ...” Selot smiled, as his stomach rumbled.

  “Have you
not eaten, lord?” Selot shrugged his shoulders. It didn’t matter. The young stable hand went to his sack and pulled out some bread.

  “Here you are. Shall we have half each?”

  “I have nothing which to pay you.”

  “You already have,” the youth answered pointing to the mane of Marrhit’s horse. Selot accepted the bread in his hands which he placed on his heart as a way of thanks, and bowed. “Thank you,” he said, feeling that the language of men was now a fully inappropriate means of expressing sentiments.

  “It is only a piece of bread ...” the bewildered boy said.

  “It is half of what you shall eat today. I don’t know its cost, but I do know its worth.”

  When the stable hand awoke the following morning, he saw that the stable was perfectly clean. It shone. He would never have imagined a stable could be so tidy and neat. All the instruments and tools had been cleaned, repaired, polished, and all were now neatly lined up in the hay rack. The bedding for the horses was very clean. All of the hay had been changed and tidied. The horses were lustrous like he’d never seen before. The mangers were full, every surface re-cleaned, every trough filled with fresh, clean water, and not even a single piece of straw floated in them. The floor had been swept and the hay barn was in order. A few of the roof tiles that were broken had been replaced with those unused ones left in a corner. The cobwebs which had been there for years had disappeared. A few detached boards in the walls had been straightened and nailed back into place. The walls were waxed so that water wouldn’t seep through when it rained. The warrior had worked all through the night while he slept. Now he was standing in the doorway, watching the dawn color the sky over the soft flowing waters of the two rivers that bordered the land of the city. His hands were joined and his head bowed, in prayer. When he heard the sound of the boy’s presence behind him, he turned around. The stable hand was astonished.

  “I heard no noise this night ... but you must have worked very hard ...”