Chapter Six
The morning after the festival came, and I had still not slept. I watched from the woods as the villagers arrived—predictably—after first light.
I guess it’s reasonable, there’s isn’t any time I’m more or less likely to be here. They come with bows and arrows; short, utilities knives and whispered curses.
Ahead of them is Durat—Mattek’s father. His eyes hunt for me, for his vengeance. A staunch woodsman and no fool, I must be wary of him. There’s no less than twenty of them, still they pose little threat to me. Half form a perimeter around my cabin, while the other half camouflage themselves with weeds and bushes they’ve uprooted.
It was a shot in the dark—for them—that perhaps I would not be there when they arrived. That I would not see them before they heard or felt me. But they were wrong. I knew they were coming; I saw them hide.
I will avoid them, and in time they will have to leave because while their ‘swiftest and most cunning’ are here, they know they leave everywhere else weakened.
Still, I knew this would not be the end.
What I did to Mattek will not be forgiven. With each new transgression, I had escalated the situation.
It will be a long time before I can move carelessly through the village…if ever.
Maybe I should just leave. Leave my home, forget about this place, my past. Find some place where I am not known. Where no one knows my name…my name…D…it stood for something once. I don’t even know my name anymore.
My mind wanders to what Eryet had said.
What was in Evspat that the courier was going for?
The city he spoke of was not far for a courier to run, but it was just beyond the Umrye Empire’s southern border. The people of my country, the Kinethi did not go there lightly. It was large enough that they could probably find almost anything they wanted there, but I could not think of what they could afford to get to use against me.
The sunlight falls bright, its glare becoming painful as it deflected off the yellow walls of the courtyard. The birds chirp—far too loudly—in an early morning song. I lean my head back against the pillar and into its shade. The effects of the Heren shield is a bit too much like a hangover. I reach for my fifth tall glass of water. My face twists in grimace as the murkiness flows into my mouth.
The city of Evspat is busy as always. From time to time, I notice a furtive glance. Someone noticing my dishevealed appearance, or perhaps pondering the wound I keep concealed beneath my shoulder bandages. It wasn't good for business for clients or competitors to see weakness. I shift subtely, moving my short tunic sleeve out to cover the wrapping.
The name of Manmas Telfer is not well known enough that I can afford the display. I should have been well off, content and carefree, but things did not go as planned.
Not the best place to recover from a fight with an earthscribe, Furven or otherwise. Still, my eyes take in the drifting merchants and messengers,
that overlord didn’t meet his offered price, and a man has to eat. An image of the arrogant brigand lying face down in the sand came to mind. A guilty smile molded my face.
If he lived, he’ll never stiff a earthscribe again. I laughed to myself for a moment, but it passed as I thought of the Furven dying.
I should have sided with him.
My brooding was interrupted as I saw a red-faced man of dark hair and pale complexion come in through the arches on my left. His chest heaved with fresh effort, his trousers were stained with splatters of brown. Though he tried to hide his fatigue, he could not steady his wavering legs.
Here it comes.
The youth’s lungs filled with proclamation. “I come to your house of scribes from the village of Kinema beyond the southern border. I come to requisition aid in battling an unholy demon.”
“Are there
holy demons?” I couldn’t help myself, these requisitioners never had an original way to ask for help.
His eyes fell on me, annoyance masked behind temperance—a good quality for one with his chore. “No, master Scribe.”
I shook my head and grinned, then lifted my hand to wave him on. “What do you need a scribe’s help with?”
“Our village is harassed by an invisible beast—“
“Beast?” Requisitioners tended to cloud the situation with embellishment.
“A human boy
once…now he is an invisible
presence.”
“A boy?” I felt like leaning in, but I refrained. He didn’t need to know I was interested. “Details?” In the corner of my eye I noticed at least two others listening intently.
“I do not personally, know how he became cursed. But our elders do. If you will come to our village they will supply you with all that you need.”
“An obvious lie.”
No one seeking the service of a scribe would send an incomplete picture unless they have something to hide…maybe they can’t pay? Maybe there’s something they don’t want known beyond the village? “Tell me all you know about this ‘demon’ or I will have no dealings with you.”
“No! Wait, master Scribe!” The youth showed his palms in adamant protest. “There is more…” He looked about, then lowered his voice so that the two or three around him had to lean in. “This creature, D, is the son of two earthscribes, his curse has something to do with them.” His gaze fluttered around me; the other scribes were turning their backs on the situation. “My kind Masters, this is a situation which only another such as his parents—which he
murdered—can resolve. Please won’t you help?” His words would be of no use, there were few scribes that would challenge another. This D, the son of two others, was undoubtedly a powerful master of the hidden arts. The last detail about the parents, only hurt the messenger’s chances more because it meant D had already defeated two, more experienced than himself. The job would be mine.
Well I'm off to a long weekend out of town.
