Fighting The Gods 1j5d59

FIGHTING THE GODS

by Désirée Nordlund

COPYRIGHT AND LICENCE

Published by Désirée Nordlund at Smashwords.

Copyright © 2021 by Désirée Nordlund

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Edition, 2019

Cover design by Rebecacovers

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

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Chapter One

Separated

Avia followed the path for once. In general she preferred to find her own routes, enjoying her own company. Most times she had no particular goal and used her experience to find settlements when she needed. Other times she was in known areas and could take the ages she wanted and end up in a specified place anyway. This time she was on her way to a village she had only visited once before. Then she had arrived from the north, from the other side of the mountain range. The village of Kaid Pah had met her as she followed a stream down the hillside. The houses had climbed on each other, as glued to the steep rock. She had left Kaid Pah south with the mission to escort a prisoner to Posita, following the only path leading from the place. The path she now followed to get there. It had been a routine assignment, gone all wrong. By the end, her prisoner had been hanged. She did not bring captives to their deaths. The whole point with moving a criminal from the scene of the crime to another place was to keep the prisoner safe, to ensure a fair and just treatment by people not inflicted by the crime. When Hockheba, the prisoner in her trust, had arrived to Posita she had been executed. Avia was not a vain person. Her ego was not huge. She had faith in her skills and had proved herself worthy many times. Not many warriors lived until they where seventy and still practiced the profession. She did. The mission to transport Hockheba had been a costly mistake. She was on her way to find the answers to what had gone wrong. Those parts of the story that made her feel cheated.

Her grandson Putt had been on the journey and he messed it up. As any elevenyear-old boy he had been too inexperienced for the task. That part was her mistake alone. She ought to have known better than take on a mission at that time. But if it had been Putt’s doings alone, Hockheba would still be alive and locked up in Posita. No, there was something with the assignment that bothered her that was beyond a young boy’s improper behavior. And it violated her professional pride. She was also curious and did not want to leave things unsettled. Some would call her resentful, but she disagreed. She did not hold a grunge at anyone. It was a matter of knowledge and understanding, nothing else. People acted as they did for a reason. When there was a clash it was all a matter of lack of communication and perspective. Avia saw it as her personal mission in life to understand, to learn, to expand her skill-set. It was not a matter of being resentful. No, she took pride in her interest settle things for the sake of her own experience. Most people seemed to avoid what she was drawn to as a fly to sugar.

Though she traveled along a path she preferred to camp on her own and not staying at the inns. This was not easily accommodated along this route, as it mostly winded itself along a steep mountainside. There was a wall of solid rock on one side and an abyss on the other. The space between was the path and nothing else. From time to time the cliffs turned to green slopes but then there were farmlands and villages. There were no longer any group of trees where she could move out of sight be on her own. She ed the place she and her party had camped on their way down. Not only were the place occupied by no less than two other parties, Avia was also declined to pay to sleep outdoors. Here all flat surface was farmlands. Unless you could rent it as night quarters for ing travelers. As the nightfall came closer she had few choices but an inn. When she opened the door an odor of smoke, fried meat and sweat hit her as a fist. Lots of people enjoyed their dinner in the hall. Avia felt an urge to turn and leave. The need to sleep kept her there.

“I can stay in the barn,” she told the woman behind the counter. “We have rooms available.” “I prefer the barn.” “Is our clean sheets not good enough for you?” the woman snapped back. Avia sighed. “I’m sure they are as perfect as perfect goes, ma’am. But I’m in no mood for telling stories tonight. I just want to sneak inside for a good night’s sleep.” With that crowd someone would ask her for a story for sure. Warriors were feared and respected, but they were also appreciated for their entertainment value as storytellers. The stories were supposed to be tales from their heroic life. A good story was retold by the listeners to friends and families at gatherings. It was the way a warrior became a legend. Avia had told many stories through her long life and she had heard quite a few of them again told by others. One or two had even made it into songs. In general you told the tale of your deed to your own favor and fabled a bit. Some warriors made up more than just a little, but Avia kept mostly to the truth. Great deeds were not done alone and sooner or later someone else that had been there would hear the story. ing through many tellers the story came out differently than told first time. The warrior who had fabled too much to begin with got a blotch in their reputation. “Oh,” the woman behind the counter replied with a stare as she suddenly understood who her guest was - a warrior too old to be true. “We could use a good story tonight though. You’ll get the room for free.” ‘If you entertain our guests’ was never spoken, but understood by the subtext. “The stable will be fine,” Avia insisted. She knew the social codes of behavior told that she should add a ‘thank you’ no matter if she accepted the offer or not and in either case she should smile. As a warrior she could ignore this. They were not expected to be polite and sociable. Their code of conduct followed another standard. They were a free folk, wanderers. People with experiences far beyond any ordinary person. No matter

behavior they were accepted as they were. Or rather tolerated, than accepted, but few ventured to lecture a warrior about good behavior. Either they did not care or did not dare. The woman behind the counter was disappointed but smiled towards Avia and told her she was welcome to stay in the hay if that was what she preferred to no charge. The regular, expected social pattern.

Osapi sat on a boulder by the path waiting for his master. He had a grand view across the steep valley to the mountains on the other side. Deep down below was a river squeezed in between the mountain sides but from where he was he could not see it, only hear its steady, never-ending rumble. Up here the vegetation was nothing but grass and low bushes, pressed to the ground by the wind. Avia had said she would give him a head start of two days. They covered about the same distance at a given amount of time, so he was pretty certain she would turn up tomorrow, but he wanted to be prepared. He had made his camp behind the boulder, in the cramped area between it and the mountainside. He wanted to keep lookout until it got too dark to travel, or she could him without notice him. It was not without he felt proud. To his left he saw the outer houses of Kaid Pah. He had found the village he had never heard about before and even less knew where it was. All he got from his master was a direction where to start. He had not walked for a day before the road split in two and he had to ask. It had not been easy for him. His former master had told him to never appear insecure. If he was to become a warrior he had to be sure of himself, never sway, he had said. Could a warrior ask for directions? Avia, his new master, had insisted it was no big deal. Why would it be strange for anyone to ask for the way to a place one never been to, she asked him? Why would he lose dignity to not know the map of the world in detail? Everyone needed to ask for directions, especially people that moved around a lot, and warriors did. As did merchants, traders, troubadours, wizards and even farmers from time to time to sell their goods. So he had asked for directions. And became red-faced which caused a grin in the older man’s face. He respected his master so he fought hard with himself to

listen to what she had told him: “You’ll never meet him again, Osapi. And if you do, he’ll not you. Your blunder’s are rarely worthy of anyone’s memory.” When he needed to, he asked for the way once again. Before he had arrived to Kaid Pah, he had overcome his discomfort. Probably just as his master had planned. She knew him so well. Too well, sometimes. She had had other apprentices: four of them, if you did not count her grandson, which Avia had told him had been a disaster. He was surprised how much of her conclusions from those experiences that she could use on him to make him do or learn certain things. He hoped he was unique and special when such legend accepted him as her apprentice. But Avia made him feel ordinary. He did not think she did this intentionally. It was just her way knowing him, where it seemed as she could see his needs before he knew them himself. If he was extraordinary, would it be possible to guess like that? Had all her students had an exercise where they learned to ask for the way without feeling embarrassed? It was not many people walking to and from the village. Most people left in the morning and arrived with margin to the sunset. Kaid Pah was the end of the road. You wanted to make sure you got there when there was still daylight. One misplaced foot in the darkness and you could fall to your death. Those who had ed him while he sat on the boulder had stared as if he as a potential attacker. He did not mind. He was, after all, a warrior. Or would be in a few years.

Avia made herself comfortable in the hay. It had been a few month now since she left Putt, her grandson, with Jadoog. There was no way to know if the boy was alright. He and Jadoog had worked well together and she was sure the wizard had a fine student in Putt. If everything worked as planned that was. It rarely did in her experience. What would happen if Jadoog died? Would Putt find his way to the place where they would meet after a year? Warriors were not

the only folk that wandered. Wizards often did too. They could find employment at a ruler’s household and stay there for many years. Warriors rarely had that opportunity though she had met a few who had been successful. Jadoog had told her, most wizards were moving from place to place just as warriors did. He had been an interesting person, Jadoog. Taught her many things, too. Avia had always considered her mother a true wizard, but as it turned out, she had had no schooling whatsoever. Jadoog had showed her his brand, the burn mark, the mark of a wizard with proper education. Just as she had a brand on her arm to keep false warriors out of their way. Most people calling themselves wizards could not use magic at all, Jadoog had said. But the wizard’s guild did not seem to care, which surprised Avia. No true warrior would tolerate an impostor. The wizards did not seem to have the same prestige. If people were fooled by false magicians it was not their problem. They did not fear the weakening in trust for their guild as the warriors did. Then on the other hand, Avia thought, few could do real magic, while several could learn to fight decent enough to as a warrior for an untrained eye. As she waited for sleep to catch her, her mind wandered to Osapi, her apprentice. She hoped he was ahead of her, waiting at the borders of Kaid Pah. They had not seen each other in a month. Though she enjoyed the young man’s company, she was still a woman in vast need of her solitude. When she learned that Osapi did not know about the village in the mountains, she sent him ahead to learn to find his way on his own. She waited for two days and then followed. Osapi’s former master had favored skills easy to show off. He had all too little experience of outdoor life. Little clue about how to handle himself outside a fight, on his own. After a few month together she felt he was ready to go on his own for a while. While she used the time to collect energy and heal her mind. She had always needed these pauses in social interaction. She reminded herself to talk to Osapi about it, so he would be prepared for more of these separations. It was not that she did not like company. Some people, like Osapi and Jadoog and Putt, she could even enjoy. But even people she liked drained her of energy. Not as fast as a party she was forced to , but still, she could not fully recover unless she had solitude. Her late husband, Inkus, had understood this well. He had been quite her

opposite. Though he spent his days in the blacksmith with little room for small talk, he was sociable and charming. He had gained respect by the people in their village as someone to trust. He was asked to arrange festivities already as a bachelor. She had been told the young women in the village dreamed about him as their husband. He could have had anyone of them. For some reason she would never understand he had fallen for a woman ing through. A wanderer. A warrior of all people, even one older than him. Just by a few years, but still, they had gossiped. Their marriage had caused quite a stir in the little village. Inkus had been the only one accepting her for who she was. He was never offended for her need to be alone. He had not cared much for her missions since it forced her to be away from their little family, but every time she returned home he was there waiting for her, with their daughter, Arica. Inkus had loved her for what she was, without being a warrior himself or even like what she did for a living. Though it was close to fifteen years since he died, she found herself still missing him. No one had been as accepting as he, not even her own daughter.

Osapi was still in his camp behind the bolder when the first people left the village. The dew was still in the grass and he worked with the fire-steel to get a fire started to get some warmth. Avia would not come yet. Wherever she had slept it would take at least half a day to get to Kaid Pah. There were nowhere to stop for the night for that part of the path. When he had had his breakfast and gained some warmth he returned to sit on top of the boulder and wait. The sun was up and when it had scattered the morning’s fogs and low clouds hiding the peeks it became a grand day. A well-known figure rounded the curve. Tall, dressed in leather, with her long, dark hair in a bun. His master, Avia. She had not seen him yet. That she could be so old and still have such strength and agility amazed him. He loved her hands, dry as autumn leafs, brown from a life outdoors in the sun, and scared by fights and adventures. She was what he wanted to become one day. “Well met, Master” he greeted her from atop of his boulder. Did he get a smile in

return? He was not sure, but he hoped so. “A pleasure to see you, Osapi” she replied. He jumped down to the path in front of her. “Missed me, Master?” “No. But I rarely misses people.” Blisters and stones, could she not at least be a little polite? It was probably a good sign that she was honest with him, but it hurt. “Not even Putt?” he asked. She shook her head and he felt his mouth fell open. “But you love the boy!” “I love you too, Osapi. That does not mean I want you in my life every day. That’s two different things.” Did she just say she loved him? It was even better than if she had said she missed him. Still… “I don’t understand, Master.” “When I am with people, I get drained of energy. So I prefer solitude. I’ll always prefer to be alone than spend a length of time with anyone. Except for my husband, probably.” “Are you married?” he blurted. But if she did not care if she was blunt of not, why would he? “Was. He’s dead.” Husband? Wow, he did not see that coming. “How did you think I ended up with a grandson?” she wanted to know. To his terror he felt his face getting hot. It was answer enough to Avia who bit: “We don’t fool around just because we travel a lot, you know! Would you want to give your children the worst possible start in life?” He shook it head. “Good! Keep that in mind if you do fool around! Stay and make sure you don’t leave a

baby behind.” He felt his cheeks get even hotter. He nodded. “Yes, Master.” He would never leave a baby behind. Ever. “Been in the village yet?” “No, Master.” “Let’s go then.”

Chapter Two

Return to Kaid Pah

Kaid Pah was as she ed it. Most villages did not leave as a distinct memory in her mind. They looked about the same and gave no reason to get an individual recollection. Kaid Pah, however, was different. It was in the end of a valley surrounded by mountains on three sides. To the west they were high and steep and to the north-east they were smoother which were where she had arrived last time, when she came with Putt, just days after him being orphaned. The path which led to the village ended in a flat square, at the lowest level, the very bottom. From there the houses rose on top of each other, climbing up the hills. When you walked on the streets you walked on the rooftops of houses. Though it was too much to call them streets. It was more like wide paths. They were not much for wagons but carried what they needed to transport on their backs. Or paid a porter to do the job more likely. Ladders or steep stairs took them from one level to another. Avia inhaled the bitter smoke of fires from dried dung. They were over the treeline now. Wood were too expensive to use for fires. It was probably as foolish burning your own clothes for warmth. “Wow,” Osapi exhaled behind her they reached the square and the whole complex construction surrounded them. “Do they call this a village?” he asked. “It’s a city to me.” He was right, Avia thought. It was way too big to be called a ‘village’. And there was a viceroy, someone ruling on another ruler’s behalf. Someone claimed this place as part of his or her kingdom. The city of Posita was the closest ruler she knew of. It was from here to Posita she was supposed to transport Hockheba, the prisoner. Did the viceroy worked for the ruler in Posita, whoever that was?

Unless they wanted to pay for her services, Avia had little interest in kings and queens and their household of advisers. A ruler for a big city as Posita had a bunch of own warriors and gave little room for strangers like her, so she had never bothered to find out who carried the crown. It was however of interest to which kingdom Kaid Pah belonged to. If the prisoner was transported within the kingdom it made even less sense that she was hung. If she had been moved to another’s domain there could be misunderstandings. Another warrior she had met told her about a transport he made just to see his prisoner thrown to wild animals for entertainment, all because some financial adviser was not satisfied with the financial arrangements. Some despised warriors for killing people but it had never crossed Avia’s mind to waste another human being as a protest for bad pay. What she did was for protection, for safety of others. The prisoner in the other warrior’s story had committed a crime but the punishment was not the one set. Just as for Hockheba. Was her hanging a result of unfair selfish people, too? Or was there some other reason? Avia scanned for the palace she had visited with Oon Barsate when she got her mission. It was up along the steepest wall, reaching up as one big tower glued to the steep rock. From this distance it looked more like a prison than a palace, but she recognized the entrance with its bright red pillars. Maybe it was the appearance of the palace that had given the village the name ‘Prisoner’s mountain’? “What now?” Osapi asked as they left the square and began climbing upwards. “We’ll find an inn.” Avia reached the top of the staircase and inspected the houses nearby. She wanted something close to the palace. Avia aimed for a ladder to the next level. The man about to climb down bounced off and waited at the top when he saw her. To be a warrior often gave you safe-conduct. Osapi too stepped off the ladder and hurried to catch up with her. “And then?” Avia reminded herself that Osapi had not likely put two and two together and made himself a clear image of the separate events she had told him about. Not that she had withheld anything in particular - she believed in telling her

apprentice about her mistakes as well as her successes to give him the best base of knowledge. It was just that she had not told the story in one piece yet. “Tonight,” she assured him. In her mind she told the story at the inn as that evening’s entertainment, leaving Putt out of the story and making Oon the villain. Doing so would be foolhardy and nothing she would ever do, but it was fun to play with the thought. It would be a revenge but lead to disaster. A story could spread as fast as a song and who knew how Oon Barsate choose to revenge Avia for a story with an alliterate truth? A warrior was dependent on her reputation. Ruin it and the warrior would have a hard time finding work. She would talk to Oon alright, but between as few eyes as possible.

His master approved of the Inn he had found. When they had paid for the room Avia requested to have the backyard on their own until dark. There they fenced. Osapi was not a child. He could take a blow from a wooden sword. And handle defeat. His master pushed him again and again to force him to let go of the graceful poses and maneuvers and be agile and inventive. He felt incomplete every time. Though he was not a child, he felt like crying in frustration. He had had another master for a little less than ten years. But though Osapi was skilled in his weapons he had little practical experience and what he had learned was more to impress than survive. The real situations he had had with his blades, was unfair fights where he had been sent to kill someone with little or no option to defend themselves. It was this realization that made him leave his master to follow Avia. “Hey!” he complained when she drew an arrow from her quiver and held it as a dagger at his belly. “The one you’ll be fighting will fight for their lives. Don’t play fair. Either you walk from the fight alive or you’re dead. There’s no middle-ground. Be fair in trading and sharing, not in fighting.” “I know.”

“So fight like you believed in it! You still fight as you expect me to spare your life!” He sighed. Only once he had feared for his life and that was when Avia had held a dagger at his throat the first time they met. “Alright, take a break and change weapon.” Osapi returned to his pack and brought out three wooden throwing knifes he had carved. They were balanced enough to replace his real set, but did little harm. They did not go as fast and accurate through the air, but good enough. “Ready?” He nodded, swung around and threw one of his knifes. She ducked. In two leaps she was behind him. “No!” She stopped him when he was about to turn. “What weapons do I have?” “Huh?” What was she talking about? “You should always assess your opponent before attacking. What weapons do I have?” He figured her in his mind. “Two swords, bow, knife.” “No, not any longer. That was last time. Now I have… ?” He could not . Avia let him turn around. To his horror he saw that she was unarmed. He had attacked first and doing so towards someone who would not likely be a threat to him. “I’m sorry, Master.” Avia confirmed with a nod. “I’m useless,” Osapi sighed. “Rubbish!” she objected. “You are never useless. And you train to learn. I don’t

expect you to know what I teach you, do I?” She was not much for fuzzy comfort, his master. Though he wanted it he did not expect it. A warrior’s life was too harsh to leave room for hugs and comfort. But he needed confirmation of his worth more often than Avia seemed inclined to remind him of it. “The reason why I have returned to this place,” she said and lowered her voice, “is because the prisoner I transported from here got hung upon arrival.” Osapi’s eyes scanned the backyard. No one could hear them. Smart move to talk out here. He was aware of the system to move prisoners but he did not get what caused the stir in Avia. She must have seen the confusion in his eyes. “You don’t transport a prisoner to an execution,” she explained. “You transport to keep him or her safe. The practice is there for justice and fair treatment. So your guard is not personally offended by your crime.” Osapi nodded but he still did not get why it caused her to return here. “I understand that much, Master, but why are you so concerned about the outcome of the prisoner?” “Because she was my responsibility. She was taken to prison, not to hung. It was not supposed to end like that.” She must have seen in his face he expected more. “As a warrior, you should always care for your guild. You don’t use warriors for execution missions. It was improper. If I don’t sort this out, other of our guild might accept missions from them. In the end, it will smudge the reputation of all warriors.” “You feel cheated,” Osapi concluded. “Yes,” she confirmed. “I feel cheated. You don’t cheat a warrior!” No you did not. If this person they had come to see had done that, it must be a fool.

As the night came and they had eaten their dinner there were expectations in the air. The stir quiet down to a silent mumble. Glances were thrown in their direction. The room was full of guests that had had their meal and their drink and now they were waiting for the entertainment. Twenty or thirty pairs of eyes gazed their way. It was rare that a guest dared to ask for a story. In case it took too long the innkeeper might ask for one, if they dared. Avia knew what was expected but tonight was not her night. “Do you when we first met?” Avia mumbled her apprentice. To her amusement he blushed when he nodded. “I’ve learned so much since then,” he assured her. “You have,” she agreed. “And it’s time for you to tell the story.” “What?” Osapi’s eyes ran over the room and saw the glances. “To be a warrior is also to be a storyteller. And you need to practice when you’re still an apprentice, and people forgive you for mumbling and stumbling on your words.” “I can’t.” Avia disagreed. “You don’t want to. That’s a different matter. Tell them the story of when we first met. Start with your situation and your mission and go from there. It’s a story you know and you can tell it without the need to boast or brag or make the dragon as big as a house. Give it a try. They’ll love you.” Osapi remained seated, pale as a ghost. Avia sighed. The boy was brave when it came to a sharp edge of a knife. But this? “Osapi, you’re born to entertain people. You love showing off your skills. This is just the same. But this you can’t practice without an audience. You like to be

among people. Get up and show the same courage you do when you fight.” He nodded and rose and Avia felt proud. He turned towards the room. It had gone silent. “My name is Osapi. Avia here is my master now. Before she became my master, I tried to kill her. It was less than a year ago.” Avia listened to the surprised mumble. They had not expected that. Osapi had done well so far and he seemed to relax now when he had started. “I had another master then, one who had trained me since I was a kid, as common. What I didn’t understand was that though I was called a warrior’s apprentice what I really did was a work for an assassin. He sent me to kill a woman and a boy. I was supposed to sneak up on them and kill them without a chance of a fair fight. And I didn’t know why or if they could defend themselves. That’s not what a warrior do, I know that now.” Osapi paused and scanned the crowed. He had them. This was something different from the usual tales, Avia thought. This was a young man telling an honest story. It was also a young man with charisma and a sand-colored hair that lived his own life when it was not forced into a tassel. With a smile on top of those warrior’s muscles, she could see quite a few in the audience who seemed to enjoy the pure sight of him. “I was told I would find them camping along a path and I found them easily, as they were by a fire. The boy was sleeping, the woman on guard. I sneaked closer between the treas. My greatest skill is throwing a knife.” He pulled one of his delicate blades from his belt to illustrate. “I searched for a good spot to make the throw. Then, suddenly, an arrow drilled itself into the tree where I stood. I jumped in surprise and in the next second I had the woman’s blade at my throat. She was so accurate and fast.” Osapi sent her an adoring smile and she gave him an appreciating nod, hoping that she would not blush. “’Who are you?’ she demanded. She did a mistake of talking first, I figured. Thought I had the upper hand and answered ‘Just someone.’ She glared at me

and asked me where I thought an answer like that would lead. When she continued to say: ‘There’s a reason why you’re at the mercy of a warrior fifty years older than you right now,’ I knew I was not the one with the upper hand.” He played out a foolish grin and his audience laughed with him. “’If you want to stay alive you better show some capability to prove your life worth sparing. Stupid answers do not help,’ the master warrior told me. My mind raced in panic, again. Something went wrong here. But I didn’t know what. The woman might be old, but she was tall and strong and I felt utterly small. I was in the hands of another warrior, far more skilled than me and she could kill me instantly. I tried to get away, to run from this embarrassing situation. She had hands like steel.” He illustrated how she had held him by grabbing the front of his own shirt. “‘Accept your failure and don’t insult your restrainer by thinking he or she will let you escape, boy. You’ll end up dead if you continue.’ I did not want to die. Not that way. Not that day. So I kept still. ‘I’m gonna teach you a lesson, boy,’ the master continued. ‘no one is interested in keeping you alive if you behave like a four-year-old trapped in the act of snatching cookies. Civilized behavior and exchange of information is the only thing that can save you.’ That was not what my master had taught me at all. He had taught me to fight. To what point and purpose? She would kill me. But I was not about to give her any information so I said, cocky as a bull, that I would never tell who I worked for. And she just replied: ‘So, you do work for someone.’” Osapi sent her an eye. She shook her head. No, do not mention who, no names. “She said the name of the one who asked my master for the kill and I confirmed it was the right name. Then she gave me the next lesson: ‘Never, ever, expose your employer, boy!’ Whatever I said it seemed to go wrong. As told her I would go back home and say that I had killed them, she returned: ‘Don’t lie. If you can’t be trusted, they’ll pay you for nothing. It’s not about your ego, boy, it’s about getting a good reputation and paid jobs. You’re not the hero, son. No dragons to slay, no damsels in distress.’ And she let me go.” Once again he made a pause to let what he said sink in. “I went back to my master and told the truth. He yelled at me and gave me a

flogging I’ll never forget. He did not care for what I had learned. He cared more about his ego. As soon as my back had healed I left him and searched for my new master. She had taught me more in our short meeting about what it meant to be a warrior than my former master had in all the years I had been with him.” Osapi ended his story and gained applauds and got no less than three beers as thank you from irers. Though he got a little too drunk he deserved his reward. Her apprentice had been all a listener could ever wish for.

Chapter Three

The meeting

Avia waked up the wide stairs to the palace with Osapi close behind. As expected, they were halted by a guard. She inspected his colors and markings. It was the same as the flags on the palace walls. On the other hand the same pattern appeared in the village too. Was this a palace guard protecting the viceroy or a guard protecting the palace? She placed her feet apart steady to the ground, arms crossing her chest. No one would miss her intention and her unlikeliness to accept a ‘no’. “I’m here to see Oon Barsate.” “Is she expecting you?” the guard inquired. “No.” “Then I have to ask you to leave.” She did not move her hands towards her weapons. They were visible enough as it was. Her whole appearance at their doorstep was a threat. “I won’t. And I won’t leave without seeing her.” Two more guards approached. In the corner of her eye she saw Osapi doing his part. He appeared just as solid and competent as she knew she did, too. Both she and Osapi were also tall people. Though they stood two steps lower than the nearest guard, they were close to eye-level with him. Time to soothe them. “I’m not seeking trouble,” Avia declared. “All I want is talk.”

The first guard sought eye with the other two guards. Then he made a nod to one of them, who turned and left for the palace entrance. They all waited without moving or talking. Avia saw the guard disappearing inside. It did not take long before he returned with another man by his side. The newcomer was not dressed as a guard but in clothes of fine material and he carried no visible weapons. They both eyed each other up and down with equal curiosity. “I’m Avishkaa,” he presented himself. “I’m the secretary on duty.” They must put something more than writing in that title, Avia thought, if they sent a secretary to evaluate if an unexpected visitor would be allowed to enter or not. “I’m Avia. This is my apprentice Osapi.” “And you want to see our viceroy?” Avia shook her head. “I’m here to see Oon Barsate.” The secretary frowned. “You don’t know she’s our viceroy?” The image of the situation shifted in her mind. Was that arrogant woman the ruler of this village? “We met under other circumstances,” Avia explained. Avishkaa the secretary bowed his head. “Everyone has a past. Though, I can’t let you enter the palace for such delicate visit fully armed.” Avia’s eyes flared. “I’m a warrior, not an assassin!” To even think she was here to kill their viceroy was an insult.

Avishkaa did not care if it was an insult or not. He did not intend to let her through. “Warriors don’t deal with killing unarmed people. We’re no murders for hire,” she spat at him with a hiss. The man was not convinced. He watched her from a few steps up as he was gazing at a fly. “You cannot give me any guaranties for what you are saying is true. Leave your weapons, or leave all together.” Avia yanked up her sleeve and turned her arm so he could see the brand. “Here is your guarantee!” She did not bother to wait for yet another condescending comment. Her feet hammered up the stairs towards the gate. One of the guards grabbed for her arm to stop her but she took hold of his hand and twisted it in an instant. The man screamed and she let him go. “Like leaving my weapons would make me harmless,” she triumphed and continued. “Oon Barsate survived our last meeting. Feel free to see her survive once more.” To her amusement Avishkaa hurried to catch up without making any moves to stop her.

Oon Barsate received them in an elegant but most likely private chamber. It was representative enough to be used when needed between a viceroy and her ruler. The annoying Avishkaa ed but Oon waved the guards out. She had not changed much. The clothes were still expensive and elegant. Her hairdo was made up of hundreds of tiny braids, shaped into a strict but elegant bird on top of her head. It was something that cost time and skilled people to create. Avia wondered where a ruler found her time to arrange her hair like that. In the center of the room stood two pieces of long furniture. Avia’s first impression was that they were made for sitting, because they were like chairs, but stretched out, like they were made for sleeping. They where covered in fine

cloth which made it questionable if they were meant for sitting or sleeping at all. “Avia, is it?” Oon begun and eyed her up and down. “It’s been a long time.” “No. It hasn’t,” Avia replied, glaring back at the woman. “Want to me in the sofas?” Oon Barsate asked without eye-. It was as if she could not deign to look at her. Oon sat down in the middle of the long furniture, while Avia and Osapi remained by the door. So that was called a ‘sofa’, Avia noted. Meeting her eyes for the first time Oon gestured for them to sit down in the other sofa, opposite from her. When they sunk down on the fancy fabric Avia noted the seating was stuffed and soft to sit on, like fine mattress. “Something else than a log, isn’t it?” the woman said with a smile sharp as a knife. So this was the reason this room was picked for the meeting. It was a room where Oon could rule, where she had the upper hand. Where the viceroy could make a vicious, angry, threatening warrior and her apprentice uncomfortable and out of focus. Warriors were not found in the fine chambers. Oon knew her well enough to understand her lack of knowledge of fine rooms. Was Osapi comfortable? What kind of setting was he used to under his former master? She glanced at him. He sat leaned back, legs wide, resting his arms on the backrest. No problem there. Avia herself had still the quiver and the bow strapped to it and was not set for Osapi’s pose. It mattered little. She would not had leaned back even if she could. That pose would make her feel exposed. Which was probably why Osapi took it. To show that he dared. Well, she did not push her luck in that way. It took way too long to get to your feet. Oon sat in front of them like a spire. Back straight, hands folded, resting on her lap. It was like she was balancing an egg on her head and was afraid it would fall off if she moved or relaxed the muscles of her back a little. The pompous secretary hovered behind her, not able to stand still it seamed. He kept fidgeting with his clothes and the rings on his fingers. He had been confident enough out on the stairs. “Are you going somewhere?” Avia demanded. The man jumped when he realized she was staring at him, aiming her question at

him. “You were bold out there. What makes you so nervous in here? Sit down and be still!” Avia wondered if he would take a seat beside Oon, who had placed herself in the middle, leaving no room on either side for one more. He found a stool and sat down. Avia saw the smile on Oon’s face again. “Did I gave you the order to sit?” The word snapped in the air as a whip. Avishkaa flew to his feet. The poor man glanced at Avia, searching for her approval. She had no need for this fight of power and did not call for him to sit again. She caught the eye of Oon Barsate and fixed it. “Why was Hockheba killed?” “Who?” “Drop the act. You me and you my prisoner.” “Your prisoner? Oh, yes… It’s strange how easy it is to incompetence, don’t you agree?” Avia glared at Oon. Not as much for being insulted as for the behavior as such. She hated social games. “Oops,” Osapi said beside her. “I’m so sorry!” He did not sound like he was sorry at all. She did not turn her head to look. There was no need. The viceroy’s face told it all. “Warriors tend to carry sharp objects. I must have forgotten,” Osapi excused himself. He had damaged the delicate fabric on the sofa. Not that she approved of vandalism, but Osapi was old enough to take responsibility for his own actions. And old enough to not cast too much shadow on her, his master, in his doings. Besides, Osapi was playing the social game back at the one who started it. “You are out of place” Oon responded. “People like you have no place in rich rooms. You belong in a stable.”

“Why was Hockheba killed?” Avia pushed. “That woman’s fate is none of your business!” “It is!” Avia felt an urge to rise and tower over her, but kept her seat. She ought to be able to dominate and take the upper hand in this conversation without such means. “I can’t see why.” Oon arced her eyebrows. “I’m a warrior. The prisoner was my responsibility,” Avia pointed out. “You used me and I don’t like being used.” “You are direct. Then so will I, so there will be no misunderstandings.” Oon leaned forward a little. “As you said yourself, you’re a warrior. You live outside the rules of society. You’re an outcast. And as such, I use you as much as I find useful. I used you for the transportation to make it legit, since one of you warriors was needed for a task. That does not give you any rights to make demands, outcast.” Silence fell. Avia knew she had lost. If someone disrespected the guild of the warriors, she could do little on her own to change that. She heard the fabric of the sofa tear as Osapi caused more damage to it. Was she as childish when she was nineteen? Perhaps. Maybe he felt she had lost her face and wanted to help her get it back. Probably Oon thought her opponent had, too. Avia had not lost her face. She may be an outcast but she was not insecure or afraid. She was not one who people could dominate. She had lost this battle for information, yes. But that was just a tiny speck in her life. Why should she feel like a fool, when it was the other one disrespecting her? She rose. “I don’t care what you think of me, viceroy,” she returned with the same sneer. Oon rose too. “You know, bitch, after your mediocre performance during that transport, I ought to have you hanged too.” Osapi flew to his feet.

“My knifes can do more than cut holes in your sofa.” He had one if his utterly sharp throwing knifes under her chin. “It was just a cheap threat below the dignity of a viceroy,” Avia told Osapi, though she smirked at Oon. She put her hand on his arm, moving the knife away. Osapi returned the knife to his belt. “I see you have this apprentice under a stricter leach that the previous,” Oon noted. “I’m not here to pick a fight” Avia breathed. “So if you don’t want one, I suggest you stop provoking me. Or you’ll find out just exactly how much leach Osapi has. You don’t want to give me the information I seek? Go ahead and feel success. But the next time you’ll need a warrior, there will be none there for you. Warriors each other. Can you say the same about viceroys? Do you have a guild to back you up? Or are you all alone?” Of course, Oon was alone. Rulers fought among each other, eager to gain the same power, the same fortune. Had the viceroy’s face gone pale? Avia walked towards the door. Then halted and turned. “You weren’t viceroy during that transport, were you?” As she had hoped she had caught Oon off guard. For a second the shook her head before she found her composure and made the head-shake appear as a condescending gesture instead. But Avia had got the answer to her question. She gave Oon a smile. She may not have the power to change Oon opinion about warriors on her own, but she had power of a different kind.

That night, at the inn, when she was asked to tell a story, she told them one she never told before. It was one about a royal adviser in a distant part of a mountain kingdom. Avia had learned from the inn-keeper that Oon Barsate had been adviser to the previous viceroy, so it was not far-fetched that those in her audience who were from Kaid Pah would do the connection to their current viceroy. The royal adviser in her story had ambitions and did not want to stay as a simple and common adviser. She wanted real power for her own. She wanted to become

queen. What to do? When the king did not accept her as a bride to his beloved daughter, she kidnapped the princess and hid her deep in the castle’s dungeons. “When I came to the lonely mountain village I was sought out by a woman of dignity, elegance and charm. She paid me for transporting a prisoner. Little did I know of the dark story behind the captive. None did I know of the wrongs that had been done to her. It’s not a warrior’s task to judge. So I undertook the mission to take her to the capital of the neighbor kingdom for her to serve her sentence there, as custom in many areas.” Avia saw many of the assembled nodding in agreement. She did not had to elaborate on this. “That the royal adviser wanted to come along with two guards was nothing strange.” All was well so far. Then she made another adjustment of character: she made Putt a hero. It was her story, her boon. Putt - with another name - got older. After she told the story she realized that she made Putt and Osapi about the same age, so many would think of Osapi as the hero, but it was little harm done. It did not matter for the purpose of the story. Putt, in his new adaption for the story, began to talk with the prisoner just as he had for real. She had told him the truth about her capture and sentence and he had told Avia. “Naturally, I didn’t believe him.” She grinned and gave them all a look. “Two youngsters, what was it but not love or friendship? Why not try to become free by telling such story?” She knew she would be the one mistaken in this story, but she had been the hero enough for a lifetime. This story was not told to boost her own ego. “Troublesome though, not to know if my apprentice was fooled by the prisoner, or if he tried to fool me. When you’re in love you can do strange things and I didn’t dare to trust him on this matter. As sweet and wonderful as love can be it can also twist our senses for what is right and what is wrong.” She added a age where it seemed as the royal adviser began to be suspicious and tried to keep them all apart. “It was my job to be with the prisoner and to guard her,” she pointed out. “And now the adviser and her guards took this as their task instead, tried to keep me away from my prisoner. A royal adviser should know better. There’s a reason why a warrior is hired for this kind of job. And it had been no problem for the

first half of the transport.” Avia scanned the crowd’s mood to see if they were on her side or not. Pleased, she saw them nod in agreement. “Then I became suspicious. What reason did she have to keep me away from the prisoner? My prisoner.” She knew she was not the most enthusiastic of storytellers. She was no Osapi with wit, youth and charm. She was not one of wide gestures and in need of a wide space where she could walk back and forth and demonstrate how things had been. It was nothing wrong with that if done well, but it was not her way. She had trouble enough slowing it down to let what she said sink in, adding a little extra to describe something for her listeners to get a clearer picture. It was something she had to remind herself every time. To tell the story in short chunks making a whole by the end. Since she preferred it short and focused it had always been a challenge to get it right for those who found it dry and boring if too direct. She had heard plenty of storytellers and tried to learn from them. Still she wanted to tell a story her way. Some could go on for any length of time to describe someone’s appearance. Avia was happy if she found three words to tell the same thing. Something she was good at, however, was to use her voice. To get their attention where she wanted it to be and affect their emotions to feel what she wanted them to feel, that was her strength in storytelling. When she said ‘My prisoner’ she was confident everyone heard the violation of territory and the approaching danger for the royal adviser. “My apprentice, young and foolish, didn’t wait for me to trust them. He freed her. And she ran. With me in her tracks she didn’t get far. Do you ask why I didn’t just let her go?” Heads around her bobbed up and down. “Because I’m a warrior. We do our job and we do it right! If she’d been on the run she would have been hunted. If not by me, then by others. If her story was true, then I would make sure she’d be freed the right way. Less romantic, I agree, but that’s what it’s like in real life. Being a fugitive may have a glorious ring to it to some ears, but trust me, it’s no life you want to live. Not with a warrior on your tails at least.” She took a pause and turned towards the fire for drama.

“I wish things turned out differently. I suspected the royal adviser was hiding something from me, but not what. And then, I didn’t know if the story my apprentice told me was true or not. He had violated my commands, damaged my reputation and jeopardized the mission. I had to punish him.” She bowed her head to show it was nothing she enjoyed doing. When she turned towards the audience her eyes narrowed and her already deep voice sunk. “When I returned, the camp was empty. The royal adviser and her two soldiers had taken the princess. For a princess was what she was. She was the daughter of the King. My apprentice screamed of more than the pain of the punishment then.” She continued to tell about how they had found the princess hanged in the city. “Why was she hanged? I cannot tell for sure. What I do know is that the royal adviser returned and became Queen. And not a queen married to the king, which would have been odd enough considering what happened. No, she became single ruler, on her own. I wish I could tell a story with a happy ending. Or at least a story with all the questions answered, but, life is no fairytale. I cannot tell what I don’t know.” She heard disappointed murmurs, but most of all she heard another mumble. It was a mumble of questions ing between people in the audience. She hoped with all her heart that her story had had the desired effect. Time would tell. When she sat down Osapi whispered to her: “I know someone who might become very cross at you now.” Avia nodded, yes. The same one who would never again find a warrior worthy of a brand again when she needed one. One who would hopefully learn that outcast was not the same as worthless and certainly not powerless.

Chapter Four

Putt and Jadoog

They were on their way to meet up with his grandmother and Osapi. It was almost a year since they walked different paths. For the last month now they had stayed in Posita, the city where his granny had fought for money and almost lost her life. His master, Jadoog, had said that from there it was just to follow the road north to a town called Pueriti where they agreed to meet. They were staying with Jadoog’s younger brother Bahadur and his family. Putt felt he owed Bahadur a lot. He had him to thank for most of what was valuable in his life. Bahadur was the man who Avia had fought. He saved her life in the arena when he had won. Not only had he brought her out of the arena, he had also paid for what it took to get her health back. When Avia and Putt had left Posita he had sent his brother after them so Jadoog could be his master. What would he be without his beloved grandmother? If she had died in the arena he would have been all alone. Maybe Bahadur had taken care of him and placed him in Jadoog’s care anyway. But though he did not enjoy Avia’s way of life, he did not want to lose her. Without Jadoog he would be following Avia day out and day in without a pause, knowing she did not want him around. Now his master meant just as much for him as his grandma. And for both he had to thank Bahadur. Owing someone made Putt uncomfortable. He did not what to be ungrateful but he did not know how to handle it. He had tried to help out in the household, with cooking and cleaning and errands, but both Bahadur and his wife had told him to stop, that he was their guest. He had been hushed when he had made an effort to talk about it with Bahadur. In the month that ed he had felt that his host wanted something from him but he could not figure out what.

“He just want you to be happy,” Jadoog assured him. With his master, no topic was forbidden. “Besides, and I might break some illusions here, but I think he did what he did for Avia, not for you.” “Why?” It made him perplex. Not that he felt important, but had he no influence at all in the man’s doings? Bahadur had sent Jadoog to be his master, not Avia’s. “He idolizes your grandmother.” He must have stared because Jadoog continued: “Have you any idea what a warrior like she means to people like my brother? She represents what all warriors want to be. Skilled, respected, old. And wise.” “Wise?” “Yes, wise. She has reached a high age and used her life well, learning things, reflecting upon her actions and emotions. I guess most people should have her as a role-model when it comes to that part. No one should use weapons on another human if you ask me. But to go deep into yourself and think, and learn, and reflect, those are valuable traits for any human being.” “Is granny a legend?” “Of a sort. It’s far from everyone who knows her name but her appearance tells what she is, if you understand what I mean.” Putt thought that he did. People had behaved differently towards him and granny than to him and his master. Jadoog did not have the looks of a legendary man. He could be taken for anyone. And he was much younger than Avia too. Hardly old enough to be his father. He was Jadoog’s first apprentice. Once upon a time, his grandmother had taken on her first apprentice too, at about the same age, Putt guessed. “My father thought of granny as a lazy vagabond.” He wanted to the good things about his father. This memory stung like a bee. “There will always be people who can’t accept people living outside of the norms. In the end it’s a question of fear.” “Dad wasn’t afraid of Avia!” Putt protested.

“No, not in that way, but for what she represented. You told me he was a farmer, wasn’t he? Well, then he probably saw the good use of ing his family with food by hard work in the fields. But what if most people suddenly left their homes to just walk around? Then your dad would still his family with bread but other people would want to have of that bread too, because they did not make their own any longer. See where I’m heading?” “Yes. I do.” His father had been worried for something that would never, ever happen. He had thought about what would happen if everyone became warriors and feared the result. It was good thinking to pull things to extremes, he had learned by Jadoog, to test ideas, but his father had stayed there. He had seen a world without balance without reflecting on that there were little reason for it to become reality. And not seen that the world would not have worked if everyone were farmers as he either. The insight hurt. He had loved his father and did not want him smudged. “Your father was human, Putt” Jadoog comforted him. His master must have seen him crying. Putt dried his tears. But his cheeks were dry. Mind reading. It was hard to get used to sometimes. Even after such long time. “A normal human,” Jadoog continued, though he must have noted Putt’s sidetrack. “We have flaws. It’s the way we are. And most people have fears for change and strange folk behaving unexpected.” Yes, that was the way they all were. Except, that this was a memory. His father only existed in his memory. Putt and Avia could be the only people left who could him. It hurt that he could not find one happy recollection. Not that his memories were sad or horrible, it was just that he could not recall one occasion involving his father where he had been all joy. He had been a hard-working farmer, providing for his family. There had been little time for fun and play. He had also had opinions that sometimes had been painful and left scars. He had not been a dreamer, his father. When Putt made up an imaginary world around the figure that was his grandmother, his father had been quick to take him down and posed his not only realistic view on Avia but also a biased and harsh opinion. That meant that Putt had kept his dreams and thoughts to himself, to keep them from being ruined. But it also meant that he kept his father out from a vital part of his life. Dreams and illusions were to fragile to share with someone else than a kindred spirit. He had not even dared to

share them with his mother, of fear that she would react the same and stomp on his treasures. “Well, in any case, just relax and enjoy my brother’s hospitality,” Jadoog said out of the blue. He must have known that Putt was no longer thinking about it. He just wanted to pull him up from a spiraling negative thought. Putt nodded “I will.”

When it was time for them to leave for Pueriti, to Avia and Osapi, Putt was at ease. For once he was eager to get moving. He was not so keen on living in Posita and he wanted to see his grandmother again. Not that he minded Bahadur and his wife and son, on the contrary, he had overcome his awkwardness. But a year had ed since he saw Avia and so much had happened since that he wanted to tell her. And show her. His magical powers had become stronger and more distinct. He dared say that his year as a wizard’s apprentice had been the best of his life. He was a little bit ashamed to feel that way, because the years with his parents ought to be his best. But as most children he had taken them for granted, and even though his early childhood had been peaceful and nice he had never learned as much as he had on a single year as now. His mind had not been as challenged before, as it had been now. Though he preferred to stay for some time in one place and have a plan when they moved around, Posita was a big city and not safe for wandering boys. That he had experienced last time he visited. There was also a constant smell of human waste and urine in the air that he could not get used to. It could be quite annoying to have keen senses and then trim them even better just to desperately wanting to shut them down. Bahadur’s wife had claimed he just imagined it, but Bahadur himself had a wizard for a brother and he knew Putt’s nose was right even if he was so used to it he could not smell it himself. Putt had even dared to suggest to the family that they should move out of the noisy city for the sake of their little child. To his surprise the big man, who had been paid to kill others on the arena for years, had

listened to him. Posita was no place he wanted for his family to see as normal. When Putt faced the city for the first time a little less than a year ago, he had faced the beautiful Hockheba hanged before noting anything else. No, it had not been the first thing, because she hung close to the center of the city where the two main roads crossed. Before that he had met more people than he had in his entire life all in one place, all of them moving around or trying to sell by-ers something. It had been crowded, warm and dusty. There had been flies in her face. He did not want to recall that memory. It was not the first dead person he had seen but it was the first one who had not died of a natural causes. It had soon became more of them as his granny had taken him to the fighting arenas. She had show him a world of violence and blood he never thought possible, and people paid to see what happened down there in the sand. Had it been normal behavior for Avia to live in that world? She had said more than once that a warrior’s world differed from most people. She had whipped him once too. He had forgiven her a long time ago, but he was still amazed how someone could think of it as a natural result of what he had done. So it was in a good mood he packed his backpack and left Posita going north. It meant that it was him and his master again on their own . In a world that made sense. What he would call normal life.

Walking with Jadoog was a fundamentally different experience than spending a day with Avia on the road. First of all, while Avia was up early while Jadoog enjoyed a quiet morning and a cup of his tea. Putt valued that moment too, though he preferred to just hold the hot cup more than drinking its contents. When they finally packed the camp and moved on, Avia had been on his way for quite some time. Putt guessed that his grandma enjoyed the walk in itself, while it for Jadoog was more of a matter of transportation. They both enjoyed the stillness of a quiet morning. They just did it in different ways. Secondly, Avia wanted to be on the move. Jadoog was in no hurry if he did not

need to. They could stop to search for herbs, listen to birds or talk to someone they met. Some they met was hard to get quiet once they started talking. They could tell them almost anything, most likely completely irrelevant to what was asked. His master was a patient man and guided the conversation to the information he was looking for. Often it was about the area ahead or other news. He always smiled and said thank you. Granny had not been much for those pleasantries. If they did not have any useful to tell, she just moved on. Putt had never quite understood why she had such hard time to just be overall nice. It was not that she was unpleasant, but she was extremely effective in her meetings with other humans. Which was not sensitive or caring, as he felt Jadoog was. While his granny put pride in distance covered during a day, Jadoog seemed to do the same with the experiences collected during a day. Considering that she valued learning new things too, Putt found it interesting that she had such hard time to chose a slower tempo. It was one of those things he memorized he must ask her when they met. Jadoog and Putt made camp long before nightfall and when they had collected the wood they needed for the night Jadoog had his lessons with Putt. Every single day. Even when they stayed somewhere, like with his brother, they spend the last of the day with wizard’s lessons. Of course his master taught him things whenever there was an opportunity, no matter time of day, but in the evenings it was just him and his master focused on Putt’s magical skills. If someone asked him a year ago what a wizard was, Putt would have said it was someone casting spells and changed things, like the weather or the shape of an item. As it turned out, it was not that far from the truth. A wizard shifted energy, creating or changing something with that energy. That could be done with spells. “But the words you use is the words you need to make it happen” Jadoog had told him. “The magic is not in the words, it is in you. So if I say a spell and you use the same words, you will not get the same result.” “But how shall I know what words to use?”

“Partly you will know, and partly you’ll have to test your way to something that works for you. In time you’ll learn what’s likely a good start and take it from there.” Jadoog had described that if he worked on to learn how to make light, for instance, he might get associations while his mind was focusing on the task. Like he might smell or hear something, maybe see something or think of a memory. Those things would give him the basic words. Then there would be words that reappeared. Those he would use anytime he started to learn a new spell as a foundation. Putt had at first not understood why there would be words in his mind. Six months later when his master thought he was ready to begin doing magic, he could not get his mother’s mutton stew out of his mind. Putt’s first task had been to pull the corners of someones mouth up in a smile. It was a gentle exercise which could do little harm. “It’s embarrassing!” he complained. “I can’t stand in front of people and yell ‘mutton stew’ as a spell to make people smile.” “I’m sure they would smile,” Jadoog grinned. “For the wrong reasons!” Putt sulked. The master had agreed. “Any particular spice?” he had asked him and Putt had shared his memory with him. Jadoog felt it. “Thyme and rosemary. You can use those words instead. You know what they mean to you, that’s what matters. That’s why I can’t use your spells and the other way around.” There were no limits to what you could do with magic, his master had told him. The boundaries were only in your own current abilities. Then was the matter of responsibility and knowledge. You dealt in forces of nature, disrupting a balance. A wizard’s job was also to reset and replace what had been disturbed. When you practiced magic you needed to ‘clean up’ afterward. Put the energy back in place. If you neglected this, you did not notice the error at once. If you missed doing it

a few times it was little to see as well. But as it had been with his granny’s mother, who had learned magic on her own, and practiced it for her whole adult life in one place, then there would be trouble to be found. That was one of the reasons they were meeting up with her, to seek up the place and fix it. “Is that why wizards move around?” Putt asked. “Not everyone moves around, but yes, that is one of the reasons. Only an extremely skilled wizard can keep it all in place. Most of us leak a little even if we try not to. And leak a little over and over in one place, is far worse than leak a little in many places. Nature is pretty competent to handle our mistakes if we don’t play around too much.” Jadoog said he was not sure what they would find when they arrived to Pueriti though. When energy was disrupted there was no way to tell for sure what the result would be. Often it was a place which people told dark stories about, and those stories were not just to scare children. The basis for them were true. If people were told to disappear and never return, that was probably what happened. “Have you heard any stories about Pueriti?” Putt asked. Jadoog shook his head. “But it’s not along the major trade routes. And maybe, just maybe, the harm is minor.” Putt was curious and scared all at once. But he had faith in his Master.

As they walked north on the road from Posita they ed the path his granny had taken when he left the city last time. She preferred the minor roads and had taken the first possible exit from the wide and populated avenue they now continued ahead upon. Putt had been in many new places the past year, yet they had completed a full circle. It made the world smaller; The area he had covered less grand and endless. It made him feel safe, and yet less adventurous than he wished for. His

granny had probably been everywhere since they split ways. She moved around more and walked longer. He would never be able to compete with her. “You’ll impress her with your magic skills,” Jadoog assured him, picking up Putt’s thoughts. “You know I hate when you do that,” Putt muttered. “Makes no difference. And I prefer to be honest and make sure you know.” They had already had that discussion more than once. It was not easy to know he left traces of his thoughts for his master to pick up. He felt naked. He could not stop thinking. “Let me remind you that I’ll be just as naked for you, when you learn to master it too.” His master did it again. And Putt knew he had to get used to it one way or another. “I’ve always found it tremendously practical not to need to use words all the time.” Jadoog grinned at him. Putt could not help to grin back. It was. He thought of the memories he had shared that his master had helped him to sort out. It was things he would never been able to put exact words to. Jadoog could take part in things he had experienced without him needing to tell all the components of importance. His master could see - or rather feel - his memory and pick out the essentials on his own. There were few misunderstandings that way. He was learning magic. If that was the price, he could live with it.

Chapter Five

Powers

Avia sat by the campfire with Osapi enjoying the silence. The mountains stretched for the sky around them. Snow still covered most of the slopes. It would be a cold night. They had left Kaid Pah north, out in the wilderness, following the path that she and Putt once arrived. When the valley ended she did as she enjoyed most: she walked on a hunch. Probably she had a fully functional internal com helping her because if she had a target for her wanderings she usually ended up at the right place. Walking in the mountains gave her the most pleasing experiences of her life. She had loved her husband and daughter with all her heart, but the life with them was dual in a way mountains never were. She knew she was supposed to think of family life merely as something joyful. She had heard other mothers, and she was sure they worried more than they were happy. Yet, when she tried to engage in conversation with them, and tell about her mixed emotions, she was met by no understanding whatsoever. Motherhood became yet another situation where she felt she did not meet the expectations from society. In this case she had to fought hard not to care and do what her heart told her was best for her family. Though it was long ago, her mouth still got a taste of bitterness at the thought of it. People’s devotion to social norms had ruined so much for so many. Out here they were alone. Safe in her opinion, even if they had been unarmed. Though it was a stupid idea to leave for wilderness without means to hunt, the times when she had to use her weapons to defend herself up here in the mountains were fewer than they had ever been in populated areas. Yet, most people preferred to stay with other people. Lucky for her, who wanted the mountains for herself, and Osapi, but it was an interesting behavior. Like there were some need to live as a pack that she lacked.

Osapi probably preferred to be among people. He was far more social than she. The way he had told his story was different from hers. He reached out, sought eye-, made individuals shine of his charming attention. It would have been nice to have that skill, but as it was she had not. If Osapi was an entertainer, he would get free beds and meals in every inn he ever visited. She had never felt Osapi having an urge to leave for solitude or fighting panic in a crowd. He had never complained about their long and lonely walks without meeting any people. With very little talking, too. She had never met one who enjoyed company so much and still endured loneliness as stoic as him. “Longing for people?” she asked him. He jumped at her sudden break of the silence. He shrugged. She smiled. “For being a person with a tongue like honey you’re surprisingly silent.” “What do you want to know?” “You’ve soon been my apprentice for a year. What do you think?” “That you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.” He watched her across the fire. Avia felt her cheeks getting warm. It was flattering. Though it was not said as something from a man to a woman, but in a asexual way. She was, after all, a woman ed seventy. That she was still able to carry out the task of having an apprentice at that age was remarkable. To be the best thing ever happened to a student was a magnificent compliment. “I hope you’ll say that to a woman some day. Maybe your kids.” Osapi put some more wood on the fire. “You asked me if I longed for people,” he reminded her. “Do you?” “Yes, and no. It’s complicated.”

“Would you be out here if it wasn’t for me?” He shook his head. “I don’t have your sense of directions.” “It’s more to it than that, isn’t it?” Did he look embarrassed? “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” She hated saying that. She was his master; She had the right to know. The phrase was a polite gesture only, and she disapproved of them. Direct communication made things easier. At least if people did not tend to get offended all the time. Osapi was too afraid of conflicts, too sensitive to other peoples opinions to handle her directness when it came to his own emotions. “A warrior isn’t supposed to be afraid,” he mumbled. A myth, but she could tell him that later. Now she just paid attention to what he said. “I do trust you will find the way, Master, but honestly, I am terrified when I don’t know the way back. A road or a path I can follow, but this?” He made a gesture over the grand landscape lit by the last rays of the setting sun. “I know you’ll set me loose some day expecting me to cross a mountain range on my own and I’ll fail and you’ll find me weeping of terror somewhere.” Avia let out a long breath. Then the counted to ten. She had learned it was far better to give an important reply some time to find its best shape before it leaped out of her mouth. “Osapi, first of all, never be afraid to be honest with me. I will never, ever, think less of you because you dare to be honest. No matter what you’re honest about.” She could see his whole body relax and a smile glimmer in the corners of his mouth. “Then you should learn something about fear that will help you across most things,” she continued. “It’s nothing but a physical reaction playing tricks with your mind.”

His smile turned into a frown; A sign of not understanding. It was not strange at all. Avia decided to keep it short. “It means that you should not let fear control you. Use the energy it gives you, but use it to move forwards. It takes time to get around your brain’s idea of what to do when afraid, but if you know it can be done, you’re on your way.” “How do you do it?” Avia shrugged and immediately regretted it. It had not been easy to learn and she ed how hard she had worked to make her brain to function when terror took her. “It was a long time ago,” she excused herself. It was no pleasant memories, but Osapi needed to know, just as her previous apprentices. “Alright, take note of how your body reacts. Just your body. Don’t listen to your brain, just your body. Then do the opposite what your brain tells you. You try that for some time and tell me what you experienced then.” Osapi nodded.

It was late. Osapi sat by the embers of their fire. Avia was asleep. He put some more wood to it. The ground was cold and the air chilly. He saw white smoke from his breaths in the air though it was dark. It was strange to experience comfort for the first time in your life when you were almost a grown man. Avia gave him that. He had felt insecure all his life. Though he was chosen by his former master, it gave him little comfort. He was selected because of his size and his looks, not his talent, and he knew it. This had made him want to prove his worth hard on the verge to insane, but it had never bestowed him comfort. The few times he had dared to speak about things a man was not supposed to think or feel he had regretted it. Not so with Avia. She may not agree, but she

would listen and respect him and not joke about it later, that he was sure of. For him, it was horrible to see in all directions and know there were no settlements to be found within a week in either direction. To know there was no help to get if an ankle was broken or sickness came upon you. He felt like a chicken, a coward. It was not warrior-like to have anguish about trivial things like stumble among some rocks. Besides, he was not alone. They were two. He did not think Avia would care much if he was worried. Her concern would rather be if he fought to handle the situation or not. If he did not, she would help him, not sneer. That was comfort. Though he dreamed of the day he would be considered a warrior and get his brand and a fully fledged member of the guild, he would just as much miss Avia. It was such privilege to have such wise, experienced and patient master. His former master had been half her age and what was worse: he had had little experience of real fighting. His former master had been an entertainer more than a hero. He had acted as if he was a brave warrior, but he had never been one. A member of the guild, sure, he had seen the brand, but not a warrior at heart. Osapi warmed his blanket over the embers before he put it on the ground and made himself into a cocoon. He thought about what had happened in Kaid Pah. Most people would have felt they lost their face in that meeting. Osapi had been sure Avia would feel that too, but to his amazement he found out that you do not loose more face than you allow. Avia did not force a facade up to seem as if she kept her dignity; she kept it anyway. Confident and with little prestige she could do very much as she pleased it seemed. And that story she had told at the inn, it had been about this Oon, the viceroy. And Avia had told it as a revenge, of that he was sure of. The same story had been requested the next night as well. It was new and probably caused some gossip too. You had to be far from the village to not understand who the story was about. They had left for the mountains right after. How far had the story spread by now? Or had it died out within the village? What made a story travel far? Some stories he had heard were common knowledge since they lived for so many years that the original storyteller had ed away long ago. Some hardly survived the night they were told. Stories that did survive had powers to ruin a kingdom. That did not mean the stories

were true. A lie could cause someone’s death. How much had Avia lied? He knew warriors were supposed to tell heroic tales. His old master had taught him a few that he could tell as if he himself was the hero. It had been quite a blow for him to understand the truth behind many of the warriors he had listened to. Some were probably true, but just as many were probably not. Osapi had never thought about the storytelling as a power that could be used when needed. Avia had delivered a story to the inhabitants of that village that was partly speculation and partly truth. No real names told. Could be a fairytale. What responsibility would she have if the saga gave consequences, like a killed viceroy? He did not want to blame his master for anything, but he had to it that she had told that story to hurt Oon Barsate. He would lie to himself if he tried to claim she had no responsibility in the outcome. Avia may have spread a rumor to harm a person who violated the code of conduct and on top of that been disrespectful. If his master’s plan worked, Oon Barsate would have to fight the rumor the rest of her life. It was a side of her he had not seen before, the warrior who sought revenge. Maybe not for herself as much as for the warrior clan as a whole. Oon had been nasty, Osapi agreed on that. But rumors were a dangerous tool. Once cut loose they had a life of their own. He watched the amazing black sky with its stars. What was up there? He had heard so many stories explaining the sun and the moon and the stars, but they were all stories. Some believed in them, though. Osapi wondered if it was his imagination which was too limited to see the sun as a carriage on fire traveling across the sky. He could not think that was the truth about the sun. Traveling on what? Did it fly in the air or climb under the doom of the sky or what? Carriages had wheals. It needed ground to ride upon. He felt dull and boring but he could not grasp the picture. The sun must be something else. Osapi fell asleep.

Every apprentice Avia ever had, including Putt, had had a hard time to read the landscape well enough to learn where to find settlements. Most of the times, Avia herself found them where she figured they would be. It was not that hard

she thought. People wanted to live near water, they needed some place to build a house and their livestock needed to eat. Preferable there would be a few good places for a farming too. In the mountains there were not that many places a settlement could be. Likely bottom of valleys, low enough for grass to grow. Then there was the smell of smoke from the fires in the air. If someone stayed somewhere they needed to cook. When the valley turned and Pueriti came in view Osapi was agape. “How did you know?” In this case it was easy. “I grew up there.” This was the place where she learned to love the mountains. She had been the shepherd for the village’s sheep for two summers too, as most kids from time to time. Then she had left the village with her master to become a warrior. Since her mother died there had been no reason to return. It must have been thirty years since last time. At least. She did not bother to keep that good count on the years any longer. But her mother had died just a few years after Arica was born, so it ought to be something like that. “So, this is the place where Jadoog shall fix things?” Osapi asked. “If there is something to fix, yes.” It would be nice if Jadoog’s theories were wrong and her mother had done no damage. On the other hand that would mean that she had not performed real magic at all. Avia was not sure which she preferred; her mother fooling others by common tricks or her working unskilled claiming to be a professional. It bothered her that so many thought you only needed talent to achieve something. In her opinion talent was essential to become skilled. It did not mean you got the skills just by growing in age. With that reminder in her head, she settled for hoping it was just tricks and no magic. At least that meant her mother was skilled in tricks, even if she fooled people. As they walked down to the village she sensed it was not so. “Do you feel it too, or is it just me?” she asked Osapi.

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel, but I have eyes.” Eyes? What was there to see? She scanned over the village. It was almost as she ed it. Almost. What differed? Then she knew. “It’s deserted,” she mumbled. The village of her childhood was empty of people, without life. No people was moving outside, not animals, no smoke rose from the chimneys. Yet, the houses and huts were still standing, like anyone could move in any time. She had never seen anything like it. “It’s deserted,” she repeated to convince herself that what she saw was real. “Not quite.” Osapi pointed. Smoke came from two chimneys at the edge of the village, on the other side from them, where the road ed. The road which Jadoog and Putt would likely arrive. As they approached Avia repeatedly felt it was as if her knees bent and she fell without falling. It was as if she fell but the ground under her feet fell with her, so she never reached the ground. Then all was back to normal for a few steps before it started all over again. Behind her, Osapi threw up, by the sound of it. When the sensation ceased, Avia saw they had walked at the edge of the village, not through it as had been her intention. Whatever force that had deserted the village made it no longer possible to be there. Her body had chosen to move as painless as possible. Without thinking she had slid sideways to keep out of the area, yet she felt dizzy and weired in her head. What had happened if she pushed on right into the village? What powers were at work here. What had her mother turned lose? They were close to the two houses where people were at home. One of them were an inn. “Wow!” Osapi gasped. “What was that?!” As if she was supposed to be able to tell. She knew it was just an expression, but still, why ask a question if you did not expect and answer. “Ask Jadoog when he arrives.”

The owner of the inn jumped in surprise as they entered. “Where in all the Gods’ names do you come from?” He got to his feet from his chair by the fire as fast as his old body allowed him. “From the mountains, to the west” Avia answered and gazed around in the room. Three other guests were at the inn. By the looks of them she would guess two were traveling merchants and one a troubadour. The owner stared at them in awe. “You’re warriors, aren’t you? That must be the reason you managed to get here.” “It was a challenge” Osapi itted with a wide grin, still green in his face. “Did you walk around it? People have died when they tried to cross the village!” “I thought I had a straight line across, but it turned out I had taken a longer route, in the outer rim of the village,” Avia told the innkeeper. “Lucky for you,” the old man nodded. “You’re welcome. I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve already promised tonight’s entertainment to Kaayak over there.” He pointed at the man Avia had thought of as a troubadour. “Didn’t know you were coming.” Kaayak’s face twisted for a second. It is no good start to know you are just the second choice, she thought and gave the poor musician a nod of approval. “I have to thank you, my good man” she addressed the owner. “It’s been a long and odd day and I’ll be delighted to listen to some music for a change.” When the night came and the few guests had ate their supper Kaayak tuned his lute and began to sing. As most songs for these situations it was long and told a story. Each verse ended with a phrase reappearing in each verse, so that the audience could . Tonight they were only five who listened and Avia was not the kind of person who ed a group activity like that. The remaining four probably felt too

awkward to tune in. Tonight the troubadour had to sing alone. To her surprise Osapi picked up the refrain and got the other three to . Once he started, it was not hard to get the others to sing too. Kaayak must be pleased, she thought. Avia leaned her head back against the wall, stretched out her long legs upon a nearby stool, closed her eyes and just enjoyed the evening. When another song began, it did not take long before she opened her eyes and met Osapi’s grin. Kaayak was singing the story she had told at Kaid Pah. It was months ago now. The tale had traveled far during that time. It had even turned into a ballad. Did Oon Barsate know this? She hoped she did. It was after all a demonstration of power from Avia’s part to show Oon what a simple outcast could do to her. The lyrics had gained a few more twists bringing it further from the truth but that was part of the game. In the end, all that remained of your life was the story told about you, not what you actually did. “Where did you learn that song?” she asked Kaayak when he was done and they had praised him. “I composed it myself” he said with a bow. “But I heard the story itself from a warrior in Posita. He told me he had heard it from the warrior who conducted the transport herself.” Had their been one more warrior in the inn that night? She was not sure, but if it had been, it was even better. “If you want another good story, maybe you should stay a couple of days,” she suggested. Kaayak’s eyebrows flew up. “A great wizard is on his way here to free this village from what’s plaguing it,” Osapi said. “A few days you say?” “Unless he’s been delayed.” Kaayak smiled.

“It sounds worth waiting for.”

Chapter Six

Pueriti

The next morning Avia took a walk in the deserted village. She wanted to learn more about the force that haunted it. Perhaps it could be to some help when Jadoog and Putt arrived. No matter what, she was a curious human being with little else on her hands at the moment. She gave note to what she felt and took a step back each time her vision changed or she heard things that were not there. Anything that made her feel strange or experience things in an odd way. The inn keeper had said that people had died trying to ignore these feelings and through the cursed area. There was no need to try such things. Just to find the boarders of that magic leftover her mother seemed to have caused. She made markings in the ground and at noon it was obvious it was an arc, probably part of a wide circle. Was her mother’s house in the center? Perhaps. It was hard to tell. If she had wings she would get a proper picture of the shape of the arc and where the center might be. Had she had a good view over the village from somewhere when she was a child? Her eyes wandered over the surrounding mountains of her childhood. It was so long ago. The village had changed, the mountains had not. They probably changed like everything else, but not during the short period of a man’s lifetime. How long had they been there? She began to walk up on the slope to a mountain south of the village. She had wandered a lot. Seen more of the world than most people did. She had also faced plentiful of beliefs of how the world came to be. Some placed men in an ready-made world, some started with the creation of the world itself. Some placed men just below the gods who created them, some placed them as any animal walking the earth.

When she was a child she thought the mountains were dead giants. A high peek was the giant’s bent knee pointing up to the sky. Little hills were toes. That one little hill was not followed by four others, as five toes, she found a bit troublesome already then. When she spoke to her friends about it they shrugged, said that maybe they toes had decomposed or something and called her weired. It was to no use to argue that if one toe remained, the other should too. As she began her life as a warrior apprentice and traveled from place to place she came to understand that the story about the giants was all a fairytale. She was just a child of eleven and for awhile she felt cheated and thought she would never trust anyone ever again. It was not just about the giant of course, but she had heard stories about the sun and the moon and the sky, gods and men. All fundamental to her beliefs about how the world functioned. When she spoke to her master about it he explained that people often made their own stories for things they did not understand, and that she had to find her own answers. Then he had avoided the subject. She was becoming a warrior, not a priestess, so he did not want to provide her with his own answers. She would find them in time, he had assured her. On that point he was wrong. She never had. All she got was constantly more questions and plentiful of inaccurate answers. Maybe that was her answer: what people did not believe. If she did not think the mountains were dead giants, petrified trolls or the result of a god’s hands shaping the ground, did she then believe the mountains created themselves? That the world somehow shaped itself? Yes, that was probably the most accurate answer she could find. She stopped, amazed by her conclusion. She sat down on a rock and watched the village at the foot of the mountain. At her age, when she had stopped believing she would get any more insights and that her master had been wrong on this single point. Wow. If the world shaped itself, did it then create all the plants and animals too? Humans? She smiled. Conclusions would come in time. She just hoped she would live long enough. Down below, Pueriti filled the space between the mountains with its houses and

patches of arable lands. The place she had spent a little more than the first ten years of her life. Longer than she had ever stayed in one place. She and Bov and Arica had had a home which remained in the same place for their whole marriage, but she had been away for months at the time and never stayed at home for more than a year in between. Here in Pueriti she had lived and never seen what was beyond the mountains before she left with her new master. She had been so eager. Scared but excited at the same time. Her parents, they had been proud. Pahlawan was a legend and he had made a good impression on them concerning their daughter’s education and future. They knew she wanted to go. But they had cried. When she and Pahlawan had returned a year later, the village of her birth no longer felt as home for her. Next time she met her parents after that she was thirteen. To her next visit her father had ed away. Her mother had dismissed Avia’s offer to stay and help her. “You’ve found the place where you belong” she had ensured her. “Be happy about it and feel no regret. Few people are as lucky as you.” Perhaps she was right that few people were as lucky as she when it came to choices in life. She hoped most people were, though. She did know she was in the placed where she belonged. There was nothing she wanted to be more than a warrior, not then, not ever. Had her mother been happy as a sorceress? The village now lay deserted due to her doings. Had it been as Jadoog thought, that unskilled did not put things back where it belonged afterward? Or had her mother done something intentionally? Avia followed the arc she had made in the south-east of the village, formed a circle in her mind, found its center. It was her mother’s home, as expected but now confirmed. She walked down and back to the inn. There was little more she could do about it.

That night at the inn, she told the story about Oon Barsate and Kaid Pah in its

fairy-tale camouflage. The two other guests had moved on and one new had arrived. Kaayak listened though he knew the story already. The other guest did not seem to pay much attention, but Avia guessed by experience that she was one who was a bit embarrassed to enjoy these stories and listened without letting it show too much. That she stayed in the hall once her plate was empty told a bit about the traveler’s real interest. To tell the story for only one stranger, and two people you talked to, together with your own apprentice felt odd and more uncomfortable than a whole crowd of anonymous people. She had to restrain herself from exposing Oon’s real name and tell the story as it had really been. A fairytale based on reality was one thing, to call a story true when much was just assumptions was another. Though she wished the fairytale would smudge Oon’s position as viceroy, she figured that if her guesses about Hockheba’s death was completely untrue, things would settle and Oon remain safe in her seat. That night Putt and Jadoog arrived too. It was late and too dark to be walking outside. The others had went to their beds. Only Avia remained awake when a fist hammered on the front door. Warrior as she was, Avia had no problem open doors with unknown people outside. “Granny!” Putt yelled and throw himself around her. He had grown taller she noted as she stood there stunned by surprise. “I’m sorry” Jadoog exclaimed. “Putt insisted on getting here today. So we made for it. It got a bit late, I’m afraid.” Avia found she did not care. Putt was here now and what happened before and what would happen when they separated again would be Jadoog’s responsibility. She could not spend her time worrying and blaming him. Not any longer. Her parents had never complained about Pahlawan as far as she could . Putt would always be her grandchild, but he was no longer her responsibility. “Glad to see you.” She hugged him long and hard. “And you too,” she added to Jadoog. “I’m sure I’m glad to see you too,” he returned “but right now we should just get to bed. I’m dead tired. I’ve been lighting our way for quite some time now.”

“I did that too,” Putt added proudly. “Want to see?” “Not now,” Jadoog interfered before Avia had time to say yes. “There’s a day tomorrow too.” Putt did not object though his face told he was not overly happy about it. “Are the room upstairs?” Jadoog asked. Avia nodded. She watched them leave for the second floor. Jadoog had been his guardian for longer time than she had. In time she would be nothing more than a small dot in his life. Out there she was a living legend. Not that many new her by name, but who she was was written in her face: an old warrior. She enjoyed the privilege that every old warrior got, to becoming someone people wanted to meet, touch and listen to. She was connected to every fantastic heroic story told, no matter if she had been part of it or not. It was not her individual contribution that was important, but her part of the warrior guild. For her own grandson though, she would be the strange and demanding grandma who could not face the idea of living quietly in a house like everybody else. Maybe she even, in time, would be the one he would blame for not having any home. Who knew what he would of the bandits’ raid as the years went by? He could very well forget those days and nights with Viseran’s tribe before Avia arrived. Being the person she was, she hoped he would the truth. Not because she could not take the blame, but because she was in favor knowledge. Knowledge would bring you forward in life, while bitter memories did the opposite. She yawned, suddenly tired. The rush of energy that had come when Putt rushed over the threshold left her body in a blink of an eye. She yanked at the front door, making sure she locked it. Then she too got upstairs and went to bed.

The next morning she found she was late for breakfast. Putt and Jadoog sat with Osapi and Kaayak eating and talking. The woman from last night sat at a table of her own, back to the wall, eating. The owner was at the fireplace filling up the pile of wood beside it. Everyone ed for. Except herself, the late arrival.

“Good morning, Master” Osapi greeted her. “Good morning, Master warrior” the owner of the inn saluted her too, in an obvious effort to please her. “What can I get you for breakfast this wonderful morning.” “Give me what ever you gave the others.” She sat down beside Osapi and soon got a bowl of hot broth and bread from the innkeeper. She saw that both Jadoog and Putt had a cup of tea as well. She pointed at it. “Can I get some tea as well?” she asked the owner. His shoulder sank and he gave Jadoog a look, suddenly insecure. “I’m afraid you ask the wrong person,” Jadoog smiled at her. “I brew this myself. Yes, innkeeper, you can give her a cup of it. Osapi? Kaayak?” They said yes and thanked him and the innkeeper returned to the kitchen. Soon he was back with three cups with steaming tea. “I used his kitchen this morning and borrowed one of his pots. Thank you.” He nodded to the owner with a smile. Avia tasted the tea. It reminded her of Jadoog and their last meeting. It had a fruity flavor she was not sure it had last time. “I add leafs during the journey,” he explained without her asking. “The base is the same, but it gets a taste of the time of year and the area where I am.” Did he read her thoughts? She was quite sure he did. “Tastes good.” “So, will you break the curse?” Kaayak broke in. “It’s not a curse,” Jadoog laughed. “But I sure hope I can do something about it. I sensed it even before we got here. She must have been more powerful than she knew.” He said the last to Avia. It made her feel a bit of proud over her mother, in spite of the damage she had caused. “Who? Who was powerful,” Kaayak wanted to know.

“There lived unschooled but strong sorceress here many years ago,” Jadoog explained. “When you learn magic on your own, without a master, you can become very capable, but you don’t know the laws needed to maintain the balance.” “Balance?” “The thing that prevents every wizard from doing magic all the time,” Putt answered. “Oh. I see,” Kaayak nodded. “Does anyone know who she was, this sorceress?” Jadoog watched Avia to let her decide. “Yes. I knew her,” Avia confirmed. “Her name was Uul, but she was called Collis by the other villagers. She was born up here in the mountains, further away, close to the glaciers.” She could see that Kaayak was intrigued by the idea of a wild mountain woman coming down to a settled life in a village. The tribes in the mountains were not wild by nature. They just moved around, much like the raiders that had plundered Putt’s village. That tribe and her mother might even be related. “Was she forced down here?” the troubadour asked, eager for a striking story. Avia had heard little of her mother’s background. When you leave home at eleven, little of those stories had been ed on. “No. She came here and found her husband on her own,” she fabled. Better that she made something up than Kaayak. She was an experienced storyteller and could make something plausible enough up on the fly.

Putt listened to his grandma as she spoke about her mother. At first she kept the relation hidden, but after a while she confirmed it. Kaayak was skilled in that way, knowing what to ask and how to make people comfortable talking to him. Putt was actually quite amazed the troubadour succeeded with it. His grandma must have wanted him to know, for his song. Maybe because it would make her more heroic in the story.

He had not yet learned to master mind reading, but he thought he could feel vibes sometimes. He was not sure if this was wishful thinking or not yet. But he got the sense that his grandma wanted a part in this song that otherwise would be only for Jadoog and her mother. Since he had not felt this feature in her before it might actually be a real vibe. He rose and left the table. He felt Jadoog’s eyes on his back. No, he just wanted to be alone for a moment. His master sent him a notion of danger into his mind. No, he would not wander off, stay just outside. He walked around the house and enjoyed the morning sun warming the wall. A wish had been growing inside him for the past months and he had no idea if he would dare to tell his granny or not. He wanted her along, but he was quite sure she would not be interested. Even worse: he risked her permission for him to stay with Jadoog. His master had told him it was no real danger that she would revoke their agreement. “Avia knows what it means to be a master,” he had explained. “She knows what kind of contract a master and an apprentice ties. It is not one to be broken just because she wants to.” “She broke it once,” he had objected. “It was when it was still fresh and new, not yet settled.” “But she had no right!” “No.” His granny had left them as master and apprentice for a shorter mission and when she returned a few days later she refused him to have Jadoog as his master. She had broken the rules of engagement. If she had done it once, why could she not do it again? He leaned towards the wall smelling the oil and the pigment used to paint the wood. It was a smell that reminded him of his home, even if his house had had a more distinct smell of tar than these logs had. It was soothing. He heard the front door open and close. Steps approached. It was his master.

“You know she can’t stop you,” Jadoog assured him, as always pinpointing quite well what bothered him. But only almost. “It’s not that.” He saw Jadoog’s eyebrow raise, felt him focus. “You know,” his master said after awhile, “the only way to be sure that conflict won’t arise is not to tell. In the end it means you don’t dare to tell her anything when you meet. Is that what you want?” No, it was not. “Then she’s not a part of my life, she’s just there.” “And if she disapproves of your choices and you decide to stick with me?” “She won’t be part of my life either,” Putt sighed. “So, the only wise thing is to tell, right?” “To give her a chance to be the part of the life you wish to have, yes.” True. Give her a chance. This was not a matter of his choices really. It was a matter of hers. Jadoog cleared his throat. “But, to keep us focused on the task at hand, maybe you should wait until we’re finished here?” Putt nodded. Now when he had decided what to do he could concentrate on what they were about to do.

Chapter Seven

Actions

When Avia showed them her markings in the village, Jadoog was amazed how thorough she had been. When it came to what most people called haunted places all he usually got was a direction from someone who just wanted to run from the place. Avia had systematically tested where the imbalance started, found its borders. Then located the center. “Impressive work,” he praised her. Jadoog found no reason to tell her that he had managed just fine without her efforts. As a wizard he had expanded senses, especially for the result of magic. As an educated wizard, one of the first things he was taught was to find disrupted balances. Now it was time to make sure his apprentice learned the same. “Do you sense it?” he asked Putt. The boy nodded. “Easy.” “Here, yes. Walk back to the inn and find the same sensation there. It will be much less weaker, but it’s there. I’ll wait here until you do.” The boy walked back to the inn and Jadoog waited. Avia and Osapi waited with him. And that troubadour. Soon they were restless, the obtrusive entertainer in particular. The three of them walked back and forth along the border Avia had mapped while the wizard remained where he was. “How about you?” he turned to the troubadour when they returned to him. “What about what?” He seemed surprised to be addressed at all.

“Do you sense it? The ‘curse’ as you call it.” “Well, no… not now, here, no. But I don’t want to walk anywhere in that direction,” he said and pointed towards the rest of the village where the physical sensation of the imbalance took hold of you. “How about you, Osapi?” The young man shook his head. “But you, Avia, you do?” “You mean here, right now?” Jadoog nodded. “I know it’s there because I stepped right into it, I know what it feels like, but I don’t think I would feel the way I do if I didn’t know.” Jadoog sensed confusion and frustration around her. She hid it well. There she stood, tall and strong and unbreakable. Not with a twitch did she reveal what she felt. Avia preferred a visible, physical enemy any day before this illusive, untouchable thing. “Well, shall we get started, Putt?” he asked as the boy returned. The boy’s head flung up. “Can I help you, master?” Putt almost knocked him with his eagerness. It had its sides to read people’s emotions and radiated thoughts. Sometimes it was more than a mist. When it came to Putt’s enthusiasm it was more like bucket of water hitting his face. “Yes, you can help. We need to make a path to the center. Step by step we’ll put things in balance, make a tunnel until we are in the middle. Do you understand?” Putt nodded. “It’s just as when you settle your own spells right,” Jadoog continued. “But this is someone else’s so it will feel a bit different. And you’ll be overwhelmed because it’s everywhere, so you need to focus on our path to the middle.” The boy nodded again. “What will we do in the middle?” “I will drag the rest of it back to where it started and neutralize it all in one go.”

“Master…” Putt begged. “No. This is hard enough for me. With a bit of bad luck it could kill you if you .” The boy’s eyes grew big and he did not say anything more. The troubadour had awoken and approached him with a line of questions. Jadoog had to remind himself to not say anything until he was verbally told by the other what the question was about. “Master Wizard…” “It’s Jadoog.” “Master Jadoog Wizard, sir, how could it kill the boy?” It was not easy to explain to someone who had not practiced magic and felt the imbalance of spells. There was a need for focus and a trained mind. Just as an unattended imbalance grew on its own, things were set in motion when it was forced back. “Did you ever played with a swing as a kid, Kaayak?” “Sure.” “And you liked if someone pushed you so you got higher and higher, right?” “Yes.” “Now, what if someone all of a sudden push you sideways?” “I would get angry…” “Exactly.” Not that it had any life of it’s own. It was more like the swing itself rather than the person on it what could be dangerous. Just like a wooden board on the swing could knock you, uncontrolled magic could too, in its own way.

Avia watched her grandson and his master step by step walk down a street towards her mother’s old house. One step and then a long pause, then another step. They were beyond the marks she had made on the ground and still appeared to be fine, so they were working their way through. It was boring to watch. She felt restless. While Kaayak remained, not to miss anything important, she and Osapi returned to the inn. She sent Osapi away to find material for new arrows, while she sat down out in the backyard to wax her bow. She enjoyed to have something in her hands and both the tree and the wax had scents she loved. The bow was less than a year old. Made from a kind of tree the locals in the village had told her would give her an excellent bow. She had been doubtful, but had little to lose to try it out. Not that she had been without a functional bow then, but it was old and needed to be replaced. If the new bow turned out to be a mistake there was still time to make another from wood she was familiar with. But the tree had been willing under her hands and the result was probably the best bow she ever had. Still needed its wax though. Like every other bow. She lit a tiny oil lamp to soften the hard lump. She turned the jar back and forth over the flame. The aroma made her relax. Had the innkeeper by any chance slaughtered an animal not too long ago, she wondered. She could use some sinew to a new bow string. Everything to keep herself occupied while Jadoog and Putt worked. She massaged the soft wax into the wood when she sensed she was no longer alone. With experienced hands working on their own she focused on the intruder without letting it show. Someone approached her from behind with silent, careful steps. Not a way to walk up to someone if you had honest intentions, even if you were shy. The bow could not be used. There was no time to string it. Besides, if she hooked the string to the bow the intruder behind her would know he or she was exposed. You do not string a bow unless you were about to use it. She finished waxing the bow and drew one of her swords. Still with her back turned to the unknown intruder, she heard the steps halt. Avia brought out her wetstone,

dripped a few drops of oil to it and began sharpen the sword. As she did she used the blade as a mirror, watching her back. It was not perfect as such, but good enough for her needs. Someone stood behind her alright. Someone trying to hide a shiny blade, but not fully succeeding. Would the person dare to come closer now when she had her sword out? Yes, indeed. This person must find it a funny idea to kill someone while sharping her sword. Avia rose and swung around in one elegant move, pointing the sword towards the assassin. The assassin was none less than the single guest she had seen in the dining hall last night and at breakfast. The one sitting alone, with her back to the wall. It was their specialty, the assassins, to be there without being noticed. Hired to kill and murder for money. Nothing but low-life scumbags. A sword against a knife. “Do you think this is a fair fight?” the woman asked. “Should I care?” Avia spat back. “How about me leaving?” “It’s not my problem if you come to a fight with the wrong equipment.” “What if I don’t fight? Will you still try to kill me?” Avia glared at the assassin. She wished she could say she never killed unarmed people but the truth was that she had. Life was not uncomplicated. The knife qualified this person as armed, in case she felt she needed an excuse. But if she did not attack, Avia would be the one starting the battle. Not that she cared about assassins, but it felt unworthy to attack someone only armed with a toothpick. “If I let you go, you’ll try to kill me later. People like you kill for money. No kill, no money.”

“True.” She seemed to consider her options. “Any way I can leave this without a fight?” Avia gazed at the assassin. Why would the woman not return later if she let her live? She had no wish to die as a prey for a simple killer when she was not on her guard. “No.” The assassin took Avia’s answer without blinking. The woman flipped the knife in her hand, pinching the blade. It was not a throwing-knife. Osapi had taught her quite a lot about his favorite weapon. If this person was in any way professional she would not throw it. The accuracy was not good enough and she would loose her only weapon. “Any chance I can challenge you on a fair fight? Your knife against mine?” It would even out the odds and she would loose the advantage of her sword. But it made her feel better. Even if it was a scrap from the bottom of humanity she would be no better herself if she attacked with a sword against a knife. Especially against someone who maybe was not even skilled in fighting. “If you tell me who sent you, and why.” “The viceroy of Kaid Pah. In person. Anyone could tell you why.” Avia could guess, but she did not want this person to get that advantage. “Tell me.” “You told a story with the viceroy as the villain, ?” Avia nodded. She shifted her sword to her left hand, pulled her knife and dropped the sword where she had been sitting just minutes ago enjoying the smell of wax and wood. She felt her body prepare for a fight. Her senses sharpened. “Well, didn’t you have mission. No kill, no money.” The assassin walked towards her, flipping the knife back to holding the handle.

They circled each other, dancing around until they were both out in the open, in the backyard. The woman’s eyes narrowed and she lunged forward, aiming for a direct hit. Avia moved out of her way with ease. When she got out of the way for the third time she was sure. “You should keep your mimic in place,” she teased. “What?” “You can’t make a surprise attack if you tell in advance.” “I don’t—” Avia cut her left arm. The woman gaped in surprise, then twisted her face in pain. “Yes you do. I don’t.” The knife was sharp, the cut was deep and bleeding. Frustrated the assassin dived for another surprise attack. Her face did not tell as much this time, but it was predictable nevertheless. Avia took a step aside, waiting for her moment where the strike would be accurate and without much risk. This was not a fight with a skilled warrior. Though she still had to be observant and careful she did not feel she risked her life. Not at least due to the other’s technique and weapon. If she even got a scratch it would be due to her own neglect. In every step she forced the assassin to move too. She could either attack or back away and more often than not she took a step backwards. It was way too easy to keep her within the open yard with nowhere to hide. In desperation and confusion the woman attacked, but as Avia parred with her own knife she continued the move into a cut as well. The assassin’s eyes darted for an escape. Anything that could help her survive. Avia saw where she was going before she got there. The assassin grasped for the sword she had left with her bow, wax and wetstone. When the woman swung around, her face shone of victory, so sure of her new upper hand. She bolted

forward with a vicious scream. It was cut off as Avia placed her left-hand sword in her belly. If the assassin never took note of her carrying two swords, or if she in the panic forgot it, Avia would never learn. Avia hoisted the blade upwards, shortening the pain by a fast death. In this case it was not because of pity. It was for her own good. She did not enjoy watching someone die, listening to pleads and cries of someone unwilling to away to whatever came next. The assassin dropped the sword and tumbled to the ground, mouth moving without making any sounds and blood pumped out. The eyes closed and the body relaxed. Soon the blood ceased to pump out.

Since Osapi returned shortly after the fight and heard the story from Avia he had turned distant and short of words. The rest of the day had ed in silence. First they had buried the assassin. Osapi had done the most part of it since Avia did not seem able to muster any moral obligation to do anything but get the body out of the village’s boundaries. They had watched Jadoog and Putt’s work for a while, but they did nothing that could be seen or understandable. They still kept walking forward one step at a time. Avia had approached the former border, walked back and forth and reported back to him that they made a corridor into whatever you could call the thing encapsulating most of the village. Osapi had tried to walk where the two had worked their way in and felt nothing, but when he reached out his hands to the sides it was like his fingertips ed an invisible wall and became frozen as if they were stuck in ice. When he pulled them back again, they felt fine. The wizard and his apprentice had created a tunnel. Anywhere else but in the tunnel, the rim of the curse was the same. He and Avia had returned to the inn and started with the arrows.

His master was not a woman of many words in the first place and he wondered if she saw his unease. She was an observant person so she probably did. But what did she think about it? He did not know. He, on the other hand, was no man of conflicts. Here was one of the first real issues he had had with Avia’s ideals and he did not wish to argue about it. Not only was there a risk that Avia would send him away, and even if she did not, Osapi would have to live in the past of a conflict and in his opinion, few things were worth it. The next morning his master had had enough of his silence. “Tell me what’s wrong,” she demanded. He had known her long enough to know it was of no use to squiggle or wander. “Do you when we first met?” he asked in return. “Hard to forget.” “I was sent to kill you. And the boy.” Avia nodded. He saw understanding of the situation dawning to her, but now when he had started it, he wanted to follow it through. “You spared my life. Made me your apprentice, even.” “But I didn’t spare hers.” “No. You didn’t. And from what you told me, you could have done it. She wanted to walk away from it all. Why me? And why not her? I could’ve sneaked back and killed you too. It’s no excuse!” He felt he was getting angry. Now it was Avia’s turn to be silent. “You was a warrior’s apprentice.” “You didn’t know that! From your point of view I was an assassin, just like her! And that was what I felt like. It was my third mission killing people for reasons I didn’t know. People who had done me nothing.” “Warriors don’t do that!” Avia hissed at him.

“I didn’t know! I did what my master told me to! I felt lousy, but I didn’t want to risk to be abandoned, loose the apprenticeship.” “I would never —” “No? Good for you then, and your students. But everyone ain’t such kind and forgiving masters as you. Though we’ve a guild and a brand and all, there are still rotten eggs out there. And those rotten eggs get apprentices too, you know.” “I know.” “So why did you spare me, and not her?” He glared at his master. There had been times when he had not agreed with her but he had never confronted her like this. He had hoped to let it go, but she had demanded to know, so she had had to deal with the result. Avia was silent. She did not appear to be upset or angry by his outburst. That woman’s face had always been hard to read. At least when she wanted to hide what she felt. “Why?” he pressed. “I don’t know” she itted. Their eyes locked. “I don’t know why I spared you,” she repeated. “The right thing is to kill, to stay safe, or you’ll get killed yourself. That’s the harsh truth.”

Avia disagreed with Osapi that she had not known that he was a warrior back then, when they met. It was of no use telling him because he would likely not believe her and call it something she made up afterward. There was a difference in the situations that she saw that Osapi was unaware of. Putt had committed a crime and had not been properly punished according to Oon Barsate. That she sent someone to finish the punishment was not surprising, though the moral about it could be questioned. It had not crossed Avia’s mind

that the one sneaking about in the woods could have been an assassin. It was not something you sent an assassin to do. At least not in her mind. You sent someone who execute justice, someone fair, someone sane. But in her world, people followed the rules and kept to certain standards. Oon Barsate was not one of them who did so. Osapi had been a warrior then and was a warrior now. It surprised her to hear that he had been sent to do an assassin’s job. It was unworthy for a warrior. Warriors may live outside society and could be considered as outcasts, but they still had honor and dignity. Assassins did not. They were nothing but disgusting creatures with little or no human value at all. They killed anyone for money. Warriors killed to defend and protect, when it was necessary. When they had a reason, other than money. Assassins killed on someone else’s whim, murdered people they had never met, who never attacked them. Had Osapi been one of them? In action if not by title. Had she taken him on if she had known? Probably not. “I know you what you think about assassins,” Osapi whispered. “But before you judge me, what I became under the guidance of a good master. And that maybe that woman you killed could have become that too.”

Chapter Eight

Balance

Jadoog and Putt had reached the place where the imbalance originated from. Putt was exhausted, but his master seemed thrilled and excited and ready to continue with the main issue. Putt saw the sun setting over the hilltops. The whole day had ed. He turned and observed Kaayak waiting for something to happen. The troubadour was sitting now, but it was obvious he would not leave as long as things were going on there. “Mmm, Master…” No reaction from Jadoog. His eyes were focused on the ramshackle house waiting in front of them. “Master!” “Yes?” Jadoog’s eyes took a moment to focus on him. It did not seem as his master understood what he was thinking. “It’s late. I’m so tired, Master.” Disappointment flashed across Jadoog’s face before his smile returned. “But of course. You’re right. This can wait until morning.” “Thank you, Master.” They walked back through the invisible, but very present, tunnel. Kaayak ed them and they walked to the inn. He began to ask questions but then he saw the vacant state the grand wizard was in he focused on the apprentice instead. Putt was no more eager to answer. He was not familiar with troubadours and what to say to them. He did not want to end up in some song saying something stupid or untrue. It was Jadoog’s doings and his task to tell about it, when he was ready for it. Putt made sure his master got something to eat and guided him to their room.

Jadoog was too lost in thought to behave as normal. It amazed Putt since focus was something of a wizard’s trait. It was likely he was focused though, but not on what he actually had in his hands but on the future task. “Master!” he called his attention. “Yes?” The smile was there and their eyes met, but Putt felt something vacant. “Are you alright?” “Yes. Yes, I am. It’s just… I’m excited. It was so long ago I had something as challenging as this. Do you understand?” Putt shook his head. It did not made any sense. Why be excited for something that would be nothing but a hard days work? “Well, maybe you will understand when you get older,” Jadoog mumbled. “You’re a bright boy. A mind need to be used to keep functioning.” Putt found his master’s lack of picking up the radiance of his thoughts disturbing. Then Jadoog should know his apprentice was tired. As it were, he seemed unaware of this. “Master, I’ll go to bed now.” Jadoog nodded. “You’ll get some sleep now, you too, won’t you?” He got a nod in reply again and Putt went to bed, and fell asleep almost instantly. He awoke when Kaayak slammed the door open and marched into their room. “Do you know what your master has done?” he yelled. Putt was barely awake. He looked about in the room and saw that Jadoog was not there. “Get up!” Kaayak pulled his arm and he almost tumbled out of the bed. “Let go of me!” He must have sounded angry because Kaayak backed away. “What are you talking about?” Putt could almost hear Kaayak’s teeth grind. “There’s no curse any longer!”

“What?” “The curse! It’s not there!” “That’s good, isn’t it?” Putt was up on his feet now but he still could not understand the situation. “He did it without me!” Kaayak screamed at the top of his lungs. “Without me! I waited the whole day! And then he does it by himself at night!” “That’s not my fault!” Putt yelled back. “It’s your master!” Then Kaayak got a glare from Putt that seemed to knock him off his feet. It was not without that Putt was pleased it had the effect intended. To be able to infuse fright in a grown man when you are only a boy was a usable experience. Was it his wizard’s powers that showed? He had to ask Jadoog about that. “You blame me for something my master has done?” Putt hissed. “No, no. No! I don’t. Of course not. I just… Can you please talk to him?” “About what? Ask him to put it back?” That would be insane. “Just be a good boy and talk to him.” Kaayak turned and left the room. Putt got downstairs and found Jadoog sitting on a chair leaning himself into a corner, sound asleep. Avia sat by the table opposite him, eating her breakfast. “Did that singer give you a hard time?” Putt nodded. “Has he really removed the imbalance?” he asked. “Looks like it. Got to ask him more about it when he’s awake.” His grandmother did not seem overly pleased. Putt shook his master by the arm and called his name. All he got in return was a snore.

“No use, Putt. I’ve already tried that.” Putt sighed and sat down beside his grandma. “Why did he do it all by himself?” He was disappointed too. He had wanted to see it, to be there. Be a part of something important. Kaayak had missed a good song, he had missed a valuable experience for his trade. “That’s something you’ve ask your master, too. Ask him if he has gone insane in the same time.” His granny was not angry but she had a sharp edge to what she said. “Where’s Osapi?” “He’s angry with me right now.” “About what?” “I’m not sure if I can explain.” Putt sensed that she did not want to explain. Maybe she was not clear about her own opinion either.

When Jadoog awoke he got the situation pretty quick. What he did not get was why Avia was upset. Putt’s disappointment was easy to understand and he regretted he had not thought about the boy’s interest. It was not that he had wanted to keep something from him. It was just that it had not been anything to see. Putt was too inexperienced to help and there had been nothing for him to do or observe. But he could understand why Putt wanted to be there and saw it as a missed opportunity. But Avia? She was angry because that troubadour was left out? It made no sense. “Why do you care if that songbird watched or not?” he asked, knowing that he also told her he could read her thoughts. She did not seemed surprised, but on the other hand she maybe had enough on her mind being frustrated with him to notice his slip. “You have no idea, do you?”

Jadoog shook his head. He did not have any clue about what Avia saw in this that he had missed. “I don’t care if someone sings songs about me or not,” he replied. “If I can choose, I prefer that they don’t.” “Well, have you ever consider what they can do if they do sing about you? And what consequences it may have if they don’t sing the song as you would like to hear it?” “I don’t understand…” If he did not care, he did not care. Let them sing whatever song they wanted. “A woman, several weeks journey from here, sent an assassin to kill me yesterday. Do you know why?” He shook his head. “Because I told a story. A none-favorable story about her. A man like Kayaak who has never been there or seen me before, knows about my story, because stories spread. And so do the songs of the troubadours. You don’t want to anger a troubadour. And you just did.” “So he’ll sing a song about me where I’m the villain? I can take that.” He shrugged. It would not be the first time he made someone upset and it was a big world out there. Avia wanted to smack him. He could tell without her thoughts. “Don’t you have any pride? Any responsibility for your guild and your fellow wizards? All you had to do was letting Kayaak watch and you couldn’t even do that. You couldn’t sleep and walked out to solve it all in the middle of the night. Not only do you deny the world the song of your heroic efforts, you load your neglect on your fellow tradesmen too!” “Avia, please listen to me. Please,” he begged her. “I’m not a warrior, I’m a wizard. We do things differently. We’re not a tight group with a code of honor as you. We’re individuals where all that counts is your magic skills.” In theory, skills with weapons was all that counted among the warriors, but Jadoog knew that was not true. They had morals and honor on the agenda too. Wizards did not. What you used your skills for mattered little as long as you ‘cleaned up’ and did not leave too much out of balance in your tracks.

And he was a wizard. If someone dared to speak ill of him he could still find bread to eat and shelter for the night if he wanted to. Why he should care about any threat the troubadour could constitute to avoid being maligned was beyond him. He was no chicken in the first place. Neither was Avia, yet she had displayed vast concern. Why? Had he missed something vital? No, what would that be? He was young but it was not like he was some novice. What power did she think these storytellers and singers really had? Avia herself seemed to think she had vast powers if she thought that someone sent an assassin for her because of a story. And it could be true. Someone might have given her that power by thinking her worth to kill in such way. It was easy to say that you were only influenced by powers you let yourself be influenced by. For a wizard that could almost be true because in many ways they were hard to be inflicted by other’s powers. If they broke a law and was to be punished, they could fairly easy use their skills to become free again. Their magic was also something people respected and feared and therefor it was simple for a wizard to get the upper hand. They were not immortal — wizards were still humans — but they were hard to overpower and kill due to their keen senses. Warriors were physically strong and skilled. They had power because of other’s fear or respect. Physical strength was hard to ignore. Yet, Jadoog thought, ‘ordinary people’ less skilled with weapons and weaker in strength were more in numbers. If everyone decided to not let the warriors have power, the warriors would lose it. In theory. Humans in general were not that easy to coordinate. Even less interested in experimenting with the risk for the own life. As it would be when a group of unarmed people told a brutal fighter that he or she did not have power over them any longer. The kind of power Avia had spoken of was of the more delicate, illusive kind. The one that would fall flat if people were less prone to tell stories. Ironic, Jadoog thought, that when it came to gossip people tended to have the coordination needed to get kings and viceroys on the fall. If those who heard the story when Avia told it had not repeated it, storytelling would no longer be a powerful tool. Yet, and here Jadoog disagreed with Avia, the result of gossip did not have more power over you as a person than you gave it. Maybe he had lived as a wizard for too long to see what Avia saw. On the other hand, Avia was far older than he. She ought to know.

Later that day when Putt had overcome his chock and disappointment, and Avia’s fury settled, Putt asked his grandma if they could go for a walk in the village of her birth. They did not speak much. Avia took him to the bakery her father once owned. It was a stone building with few windows. “It was glowing hot inside in the summer,” she ed. “But doughs don’t do well in a draft. We opened all doors and windows in the afternoon, when we were done.” Putt would never be able to go through his home village with his grandchild one day. It was no longer there at all. “Do you think people will return here” he asked her. It would be kind of sad if they removed the problem and then the village still remained empty and lifeless. “Perhaps,” his granny answered. She did not seem interested in the village’s fate. “Granny?” “Yes?” “I want to go to Parramattma Parvet.” He held his breath, waiting. To his surprise she shrugged. “It’s not my call to decide where you go any longer, you know that.” “Yes, but… this is special. I want you to come with me.” “What? What is this, Putt?” “You don’t know about Parramattma Parvet, do you, granny?” Putt knew at once that she did not.

No, she did not know about Parramattma Parvet. “It’s south, right?” she asked and the boy nodded. “I’ve never been much south.” “Why not?” “Too much water, too few mountains. Never had a reason.” She shrugged. When Inkus had lived and Arica still needed her, she had stayed within a certain distance. When she became a widow with no strings attached she had walked where it pleased her, but when the countryside became flat and covered with farmlands she had found the view too boring to continue. She wanted forests and hills and mountain peeks. “So you want to go to Parramattma Parvet?” she concluded more than asked. “Why do you want me along?” Putt was not eager to tell which surprised her. He wanted her to follow him somewhere he wanted to go, but he seemed troubled telling her why. “Can you tell me what kind of place it is?” she tried. More silence. “Jadoog knows,” he said, stumping their conversation. Nothing more was said as they continued through the deserted village. When they got back to the inn, Jadoog took Putt out again for their exercises. Avia took her own apprentice out on the backyard. With a firm wooden stick each she trained his skills to read his opponent’s moves. Osapi was an apt student and if she told him what to look for and how to act he was quick to learn. He was less impressive when it came to use his knowledge in new situations. His former master had not taught him moves and ways that gave a stunning impression, but in a real fight on life or death was you ability to cut your enemy. That was why Avia never used a shield. A blade could fend off an attack, and harm the attacker in the same move. A shield could not. It was nothing but a heavy burden to carry. Avia hoped that Osapi in time would learn to handle himself without precise instructions for each situation and get a more agile mindset. As for now, she was pleased with his progress.

“What do you know about Parramattma Parvet?” she asked while she swung the stick in a wide arch. “Parramattma Parvet?” Osapi repeated and lost focus on her move. It landed with a smack on his backside. “Ouch!” “Focus!” He halted and glared at her. “You ask me to talk and fight in the same time?” he rebuked her. She paused for a fraction of a second before she noticed his hands and shoulders and parried his attack. “Bold,” she said. “I like it.” Her move continued and hit him over his arm. “And yes, I want you to be able to focus on the fight without being distracted while talking.” “Parramattma Parvet is a sacred mountain,” Osapi returned and tried to do a stratagem on her. It failed. As she dodged and returned the blow she hit him over his knuckles by mistake. He did not take it very well. He bounced a few steps back, dropped the stick and tried to repress and series of colorful words which would have been inappropriate in any other company. “A sacred mountain?” She saw a mountain with its peek hidden in mist in sunrise for her inner eye. “In what way?” “The temples.” Her vision was erased at once. “Temples?” “Yes. It’s a mountain full of temples.” “Why would anyone want to go there?” It was a rhetorical question and with irony. She knew why people in general visited temples. What she did not understand was why Putt expressed such

interest in going there. “To pray of course,” Osapi answered. Yes, they did. Was that Putt’s reason too, she wondered. The boy had not been talkative. When Jadoog and Putt returned she asked the wizard for a walk. She saw Putt’s worried eyes. “You asked me to talk to him, ,” she said. Putt’s eyes did not seem less worried. She could feel his eyes on her back as she and Jadoog walked away from the inn. “He seems to think I’ll be angry with you,” she said. Jadoog nodded. “So do I.” “Agree about what I think that he thinks, or that I’ll be angry with you?” “That you’ll be angry.” “Because I’ll have a reason to, or because you think I’m an angry bitch in general?” Jadoog grinned. He had a way of taking life with a smile that Avia had come to enjoy. “You’re not an angry person,” he replied. No she was not, but she was not walking around with a smile on her face either. “So, bring it on. Tell me,” she demanded. “Your grandson want to go to Parramatta Parvet.” Avia nodded. She knew that much by now. “To pray?” she asked, not sure if she was ready to handle the answer. “Yes.” A bucket of cold water over her head would have felt better than this. She was not a religious person. Of what she knew, Arica and her husband had ideas about who to show respect to their god, or if it was gods, she was not sure, to get good harvest. It had been a series of rituals rather than actual prayers. In Avia’s eyes it

had been more like superstition, a fright of not doing what you did the year you got that huge harvest and the perfect weather. If you took a bite of a green apple a rainy day when you stepped through a door and the harvest turned out well, you had to bite an apple every year when it rained. Nonsense, was Avia’s conclusion of it all. But in this case, what mattered was that Putt had not said anything to her indicating that he had religious needs. If he had gained it since they last met she knew who was guilty of putting such things into his head. She glared at Jadoog. He smiled. “Yes, and no” he replied to an unspoken question. That man was spooky. “What?” “I’ve my own beliefs, Avia. I’ve not imposed them on Putt. But, he’s been handling his parent’s deaths, him being kidnapped, the months with you and then with me. He’s been through a turbulent time. He asked a lot of questions, to me, and to my brother, and his wife. To others he fancied talking to. He came to his own conclusions, Avia.” “And that conclusion was that it helps to pray to a god?” She heard her own voice full of distaste. Jadoog’s face told her he disapproved of her attitude. “Thousands of people pray every day because it makes them comfortable and happier. Are you so sure of your own opinion that you deny the right to others to have their own?” Yes, she was confident that there was no gods to pray to. But no, she had never forced her own believes on someone else. She had always respected other people’s faiths and beliefs. Until her own grandson turned out to have a need to visit a pile of temples. It was not fair to Putt, and she knew it. If she did not give him the right to find his own truths she was nothing but a hypocrite. There was little else in this world she wanted less than to be fraud.

Chapter Nine

Going south

The four of them traveled together again. They were leaving Pueriti the same way they came there just a few days ago. It felt strange to walk back and forth like that. They would go all the way to Posita before they took a new route. When he heard that his granny and Osapi had walked to Pueriti over the mountains, he had suggested that they would return that way, but the adults had disagreed. It was hard for him to raise his voice and say that he really wanted to do this in his grandma’s way. Though he was Jadoog apprentice, this was his journey. His initiative. It would not had been that hard to let him decide how they would get there. Just none of the adults thought of the possibility and Putt was not bold enough to tell. So they walked back along the road the same path he and his master had walked. Putt found it fascinating how the landscape could feel so different walking in the other direction. It was not that he felt lost but things appeared differently. He guessed that if he had turned around more often he would see his route both ways. His thoughts kept returning to what his granny and his master had said about the troubadour’s powers. Putt had followed them on a distance, knowing he was not supposed to listen. After telling her about this journey he wanted to do with her, he was on edge. He did not want to displease his granny. She now knew about his wish to pray at the temples. They had never discussed religion but he knew his granny’s opinion. Somehow he had always known, but it was when he was caught in a cell in that fighting arena that he had seen what other people about to fight did. They prayed. To different gods and in different ways, but they prayed. They were not warriors but common men and women who learned a bit about how to handle a

weapon. Perhaps they needed to pray more than his granny, the true warrior. But if it was so, Avia must have prayed once too, and should continue to keep her god’s favor. Not once had she ever made an effort to call upon a god or show any of the variety of gods any respect. Was she disappointed that he wanted to? At this moment they were traveling together to the most powerful places of them all when it came to gods. Of what Putt had heard every god and goddess were represented there. It was the heart of divine influence. And he was bringing his grandmother there. Did it make her uncomfortable or was she just annoyed about his interest? Putt wanted to get rid of the knot he had in his stomach. It was something about the thought of the mountain full of temples and Avia that did not feel right. It gave him a malaise. Odd, considering that his grandmother was known to be fully capable to take care of herself. Nothing in the world could stop her. Not even the gods. That was one of the things he wanted to learn from the priests and priestesses: Why the gods were called almighty when they could not literary stop a person in their tracks. Putt was sure of their existence, he could feel the help they gave him. Yet he could not understand what kind of creatures they were. They could not actually do anything, and still affect everything. It was a contradiction he had a hard time to accept. When he had spoken to a local priest about it he had to his utterly surprise found that he made the man nervous. When Putt had continued to ask questions after the pre-made answers the priest had, the same answers were repeated over again. Jadoog had understood his frustration and said that there were priestesses and priests who were well educated and spent a lot of time thinking about the same things Putt was troubled with. His master had told him about Parramattma Parvet and he had been so excited to know that there was a place like that. A place where they valued the existential questions and not just the practical day-to-day issues of life. When Jadoog described the place, Putt could barely wait to get there. And now they were on their way. Together again as the odd family of previous year. They would return to Posita, again. He did not mind seeing Bahadur but he

did not enjoy the city. It had too many bad memories and a constant smell of dust and feces. Putt hoped they would only through and be out the same day. From there they would continue south.

The first night at camp, Avia found herself longing for Jadoog’s morning tea. It was a better sign for a fortunate journey than she could hope for. Not in a superstitious way, though. Just a pleasing thought that reminded her about the nice things company could give her. They had been a functional group last time they were on the road together. If she was longing for one of her companion’s annoying habits it could not be that bad. How horrible could it be to visit a mess of temples? They may not like her and would probably exclude her, but what did it matter? She did not care for the opinion of priests and priestesses. They could not harm her by calling her an outcast. She was. And to the establishment’s horror she enjoyed it and thrived. Why had Putt found comfort in prayers? She was not pleased about it. Every part of her body wanted to scream and tell him in was just tricks of the mind or trick of man. Still, it was not that easy and she had promised herself to be openminded and not judgmental. People had the right to seek their own truths. She had just hoped Putt would find the same answers as she had. It hurt that he had not. In that way she was no different than people with a strong faith in the gods; she was convinced she was right in her own believes. To see Putt turn into what she saw as the wrong path was difficult. She reminded herself that her grandson was still a child and in such age you searched and tried different approaches to life and religion. Though Avia enjoyed the company, she wanted away from the established tracks. She had voted against taking the same route as she and Osapi had got to Pueriti but that did not mean she liked to follow the map. She agreed to it because they were four and had a goal for their journey. To roam free among the mountains when you had a target and a purpose was not optimal. Nor when she was likely to stall as long as possible. No, she did not want to go to Parramattma Parvet. All other places in the World

must be better targets for a journey than a place full of people who dedicated their lives to serve a god or goddess. She had never been there, but she had a feeling she would not have the best of days there. It did not matter much. Putt was her grandson, but not her responsibility. If she declined his request, he would go there anyway, with only Jadoog as company. She trusted the boy’s master. She knew what a master-apprentice-relation meant. Though she did not have anything to say about his upbringing any longer, it did not mean she did not want to. She supposed most parents did. When Putt invited her and Jadoog agreed it was a possibility she did not want to miss. Not when it concerned something that was not related to what his master was teaching him. How had her parents manage not to demand any rights on her? When you became apprentice to a master and moved away from home, your parents no longer had any responsibility for you. It could be a practical solution for a family with more children than they could feed. But it was also a loss of a child and family member. It must have been tough for her mother and father. It had been tough for her to leave Putt with Jadoog. It had been extra hard for her fighting the feeling that she leaved him due to her own needs. She had not asked for being the boy’s guardian. Putt had not asked to be orphaned either. Their interests had collided. Avia was so used to take care of nobody but herself that she had to think twice to be sure she did what she did in Putt’s best interest and not her own. Putt had convinced her what he wanted. She had had to fight hard to be sure she agreed not out of relief to be on her own again, but because it was a good solution for Putt. Avia turned her head and gave Osapi a look. How did he consider this journey and its goal? He did not have much of a choice than follow along, unless he would jeopardize his apprenticeship. That was the situation between master and student. But was it fair? Perhaps not. But it also came with a safety net: since you were an apprentice, you were where you were due to your master. There were little you could be blamed for. For most things that happened, the master took the blame. It was a freedom of responsibility towards the rest of the world that you rarely had in life. You still had to answer to your master, who could blame you for bad weather if he or she wanted to, but towards everybody else you could hide behind your master if you wanted to. That was in order and expected. Pupils must be allowed to make mistakes.

Oon Barsate had not understood that concept. For her Putt was guilty of treason when he helped Hockheba escape. If she had been acquainted to the customs, she should have blamed Avia for it all. As it was, she only yelled at her for the boy’s bad training. It was rare that a master took the full punishment for a crime, but in case of a trial it was the master who was the accused, not the apprentice. Avia had had no need to tell Oon as long as Putt would go safe from her. Had they been anywhere near a village or a town their issue had been settled in a different manner. Then there would have been people present who knew enough about these things to do it right. Maybe the outcome had been the same anyway. Avia would have left in disgrace, and she would have punished her grandson and pupil for his mistake. But she would not have had to fought for Putt’s life. That was the major difference. A life Osapi had been sent to take, Avia reflected. What kind of warrior master did not know the difference between what a warrior do and the job of an assassin?

Osapi awoke early. In the dim light he saw Avia’s bed empty. They had stayed at an inn for the night so they had no need for someone to keep watch. He knew his master was far more fond of sleeping outdoor than in a real bed. As he had expected, he found her in the outskirts of the village facing the rising sun over the mountains. She just stood there like an immortal goddess commanding the skies. And in his dreams he was her right hand, her second in command. To be near her was power. Her strength vibrated from the inner core of her body. If he had told Avia about this she would probably have told him about the advantages of being young and still have a vivid imagination where impossible things still could be real. No, he preferred to have this image of her unspoiled. He ed her in the silent salute to the new day. She did not acknowledge his presence and he did not expect her to. Together they stood watching the sun rise, in piece. “How do you feel about this journey?” she asked him out of the blue. Startled by the question he shrugged.

“Should I feel something?” He was an apprentice. It was not his place to question or argue about these things. Avia gave him one of her intense glares. “You’re a human with emotions like everyone else.” “Fine. I am” he agreed. It was no easy thing to get used to his new master. “My former master prayed only to one god. The only one for people like us, he claimed. But I don’t know. Is there a god for someone who’s loyal to where money brings you?” “Is that how you feel?” She sounded upset. “Isn’t that what we are?” He could feel Avia’s eyes upon him. “If you were a baker and was offered better price for your bread somewhere else, would you not move?” “I guess.” There was a wide difference between bread and the use of a sword. “We are protectors, Osapi. Not assassins. Not mercenaries. We’re trained and skilled for certain needs. Some people think this make us—” “Most people,” he interrupted. Avia shook her head. “No. Some people. Some people think that you need to be loyal to a ruler to be trustworthy. And that you need to be loyal to that ruler for all your life. Most people are loyal in that way, but mostly because other options are less attractive. You have your house, you farm your land, raise your family; you’ve no reason to question the ruler or your way of life as long as things work out for you. That doesn’t mean they look down on you just because you move around.” Osapi agreed. “But they do not include me either.” The numerous memories of staring people, whispering, turning away from him flashed in his mind. It happened in every village, sometimes just one person, sometimes all of them.

“If you wanted to be included, you should’ve picked another profession.” Avia was not afraid of telling truths. Even if she knew it was not what he wanted or needed to hear. “I know.” “But you still haven’t said what you feel about this journey,” Avia reminded him. Osapi shrugged again. “Haven’t thought so much about it. We’re going to some temples. No one forces me to pray. I’m fine with it.” He watched his master. Somehow she did not seem completely fine with the project. He, he did not care much where they were going. His task was to follow his master and her the best he could. It was not his place to decide where and why they were going somewhere. What was beyond his frame of control he did not bother himself with if he could avoid it. There would come a time when he made the calls, but until then it did not make life as an apprentice easier if you became frustrated on a regular basis. “And if you had to pray?” she pushed on. “No use praying to gods that doesn’t me and my cause.” “But you would pray if someone forced you to?” Osapi frowned. It was an odd question. Why would someone force another to pray? To worship a god was a personal matter. In what way would it gain someone else to have someone else pray? This was one of his master’s rhetorical questions again. They made him confused and he did not fancy it much. He shrugged. By Avia’s face he guessed she gave up. Good. Combat, knifes, swords, tactics and even kills he could discuss, but these abstract subjects what not to his liking.

Jadoog had been surprised how Avia had accepted her grandson’s wish. Not only had she let him leave to Parramattma Parvet, she had also ed them. He was

certain it was to make Putt happy and not to keep an eye on the boy’s master. Avia had not been pleased, but she had endorsed the journey anyway. Jadoog had been prepared for argumentation, but there had been none. Putt had found an interest his grandmother despised and yet she had not lectured him. Impressive. He was worried about her attitude considering the place where they were going. The combination of warrior and religious rebel was a cause to trouble. He had sensed Avia knew this which made things easier. It was no guarantee there would not be a meeting without conflicts though. Wizards and warriors were two different species when it came to these things. He could tell what people were thinking and had an advantage, yes, but it was more than that. While both warriors and wizards had special places in society wizards were not frowned upon. Even priests and priestesses ranked wizards high on their social scale and listened to their advises. It was with a mixture of fear and respect but it was there. It was not there for warriors. Not at all. Priests and priestesses placed people with Avia’s profession just little above an assassin. They despised warriors, even if they came to the temples to pray of all their heart. Was it because the warrior’s powers were physical while the wizard’s were psychical? A priest worked on a mental level, and so did a wizard. With different means and different purposes but it made them competitors of sorts. Warriors killed people for a living. It was not that simple, Jadoog was well aware of it. They were no paid assassins, even if he knew a few who did both. Avia would say that they were no warriors if they worked as assassins. She protected her guild in a way that was naive if she believed in all she claimed. Not all warriors were noble and some did enjoy getting other people’s blood in their hands. Jadoog was not sure if this was the reason to their conflict with the men and women of the cloth. He had a theory that it was because warriors were in no need for gods. They were confident and strong survivors, protectors of others. What use could they possibly have of a god’s protection? Avia herself would probably stand up to the god that tried to interfere with her mission. It was a thought he kept to himself. He was glad Putt’s mind reading skill were not tuned enough to pick it up.

Chapter Ten

Warrior's respect

They stayed in Bahadur’s home just for one night when they ed through Posita. He insisted on them staying longer but though Avia enjoyed seeing him again, she did not fancy Posita at all. Not only was it a hot, stinking town, she also had bad memories connected to it. Memories she still had due to Bahadur. Without him, she would have been dead. It was an odd situation to have a grown man, a father even, iring you on the verge to worship, and still be in dept to him. They had fought in the arena and Bahadur had won. She did not have much prestige but she had pride. To loose a fight to a paid swordsman who killed and mutilated for other’s amusement had not been easy. She knew she lost due to loss of blood and if she had been younger she would have been able to stay on her feet. Bahadur could have left her to die in the arena’s aftermath. He pulled her out with her. She was grateful that he had. It also meant he considered her a worthy opponent. Now he was a free man with wife and a child and another future than when they first met. He had been tempted with money to fight with her and he had won. It had made a difference for him, she could tell. The house was a large and clean. Not in the posh parts of the town, of course, there were limits to how far you could move in social status, but still far better than the damp cells in Raborast dungeons where he had once started. “I see you’ve a new apprentice,” he said when they were alone on the terrace after dinner. She nodded. “You can’t be his first master,” he noted. “Did he die?” “No, he left.” “He met you.” Bahadur gave her a wide grin. “I understand him.”

“Anyone would have been better than his former master,” Avia snorted. “The idiot trained him for show offs, not for real fights. Osapi can throw his knife better than I’ve ever seen anyone do it, but when it comes to using his skills for real he’s as agile as a priest being told to change deity. Not much of a master.” Bahadur nodded in agreement. “Throwing knifes you said?” Avia nodded. “I know this will sound presumptuous but…” He hesitated, sending Avia a look. “Go on.” “Can I test your apprentice for something?” “For what?” “I can’t tell yet. It’s a guts instinct. It’s just something I want to test and we can discuss the outcome afterward.” “If Osapi agrees, I’ve no objections,” Avia replied and settled the matter. Bahadur nodded and called out for Osapi. It did not take long for the young man to come to the terrace. “Osapi, your master here tells me you excels in throwing knifes.” Avia saw pride and embarrassment fight for attention on his face. Bahadur rose and placed himself with his back against the wooden wall. “Want to show me?” Osapi stared and Avia felt her doing the same. “You want me to throw at you?” her apprentice asked, stunned. “Impress me.” Osapi brought out one of his slim knifes from the back of his belt. He juggled it

in his hand while he considered the scene. Then he threw the blade. It jammed itself into the wood close to Bahadur’s right shin. Avia smiled. Her apprentice chose the safe throw before the impressive first. Bahadur did not flinch a bit. Osapi flipped the next blade in his hand. He had five of them. It hit the wall a few fingers’ width from the arm. Avia knew the first reaction to a flying knife or arrow was to avoid it, to flee. When standing as target, the greatest risk was that you jumped forward to avoid getting hit. Which likely resulted in the opposite, no matter how brilliant the thrower was. Bahadur stood as if he was completely safe. When Osapi saw this, he got bolder and the next knife was just a thread from making a hole in his clothes. The next two was equally tight. “I’m done,” Osapi said, relaxing. Bahadur grinned, inspecting the slim margins. “Well done. You did impress me.” Avia saw her apprentice make a wide bow and grow at least a hand’s width at the same time. When Osapi pulled his knifes out of the wall she pulled Bahadur aside. “What was that all about?” He gave her a grin. “You disapprove?” “Don’t play with me! What was that about?” They saw Osapi leave with his knifes. “He’s accurate, he’s careful, he plans ahead, and most important: he doesn’t long to kill anyone.” Avia could not believe what she just heard. “Did you risk your life for that? You could’ve asked me. I know him well enough. I could’ve told you.” “You thought I risked my life? Then you don’t know him.”

Avia fought her negative feelings whelming up towards Bahadur. He was a man she respected and she had approved of his test without asking further questions. Her anger was not appropriate. It was just a matter of him crossing a line in her mind. Bahadur had just been honest. She wanted honesty. She took a deep breath. “I can of course not tell how he act in a real fight,” the man continued, “but I think he has what is needed for you to shape him into someone who will be a legend himself someday. He’ll make you proud.” “Thank you.”

For Osapi Posita was not home any longer. He had thought he would reclaim the city of his birth and upbringing, but he felt no need. The year with Avia had taught him to love other environments than houses packed along narrow streets. He considered if he should seek out his old master just to clear the air between them, but he decided not to. The man might become upset and Osapi had no wish to end up in his hands. With his new perspective and the memories he had of his former master it was not likely they would talk like two grown men without hostility. In fact, Osapi had to it to himself that what he felt for his former master was fear. And Osapi had been the one who had ran from him. There was no one he cared for in the town. That was what he told himself. Without success. He knew it was not true. There was someone he wanted to see. And it was not his former master. It was someone he had seen in secret, as most youths in love. In the light of the setting sun he sneaked out of the house. He was a bit disoriented at first but soon he found his directions. He reached the house. The occupants seemed asleep. He picked up some pebbles and threw one at the well known window on the second floor. Would he still be welcomed? He did not know but he hoped he would. He needed to know in either case. The window was opened and Jamil put his head out. His curly, unruly raven hair surrounded his round face like a mane of a wild horse. Jamil beamed towards Osapi. He waved for him to come. It was as if they had never been apart.

Osapi had climbed the way up to his window before and did so with little effort. Up in Jamil’s room they could not stop hugging. It had been so long since they last saw each other. They whispered their greetings, Jamil told him he had heard he left town, but there was no room for talking. Their relationship was a secret. All time they had spend together had been in each others arms. Talk in a room where only one man was supposed to be and they could be exposed. Still in each other’s arms they pulled the other’s clothes off like they both had waited for this very moment for ages. Skin met skin and Osapi felt a ion burning in his body that had been hidden deep for the last year. Now it felt like it was there to consume him. He opened up for it without fear. They tumbled down on Jamil’s bed, both naked. He so much wanted him, to feel Jamil inside him, to be inside him. He rolled over on his stomach and spread his legs. The door to Jamil’s room flung open and people flooded the room. Jamil protested when they pulled him away, but in vain. Osapi was yanked out of the bed and his lover removed from the room. Osapi recognized the voice of Jamil’s father, and the woman was probably the mother. Was the third Jamil’s brother? He was not sure. Osapi was a warrior, or at least an apprentice, but his ability to fight was gone. He felt the beating as if he was somewhere else. They pulled him by the arms, down the stairs and out the gate. Somewhere they dumped his body in mud in the alley outside, naked and bleeding. Then it turned black. It was still dark when he returned to consciousness. The ground chilled his naked body. Pain rung from every limp as he got to his feet. At least he was alone and Bahadur’s house was not far away. As far as he knew no one saw him. He banged with his hands on the locked gate. It felt like ages before it was opened by his host. Osapi was too disoriented to notice the chocked look on Bahadur’s and his wife’s faces. They help him to his room. If they asked something he did not hear nor was able to reply. The two of them cleaned him and took care of his wounds. Somewhere in this his master ed. When they left he was alone in his own bed. Then he cried. If asked, he would have said he let his tears run in silence. The truth was he let all his pain out in long, desperate wails. When he awoke the next day he found Avia sitting in the room, watching him.

He rolled over, turning his back to her, ashamed. Considering the pain he figured he must have a large bruise on his ribcage that he now pressed against the mattress. To face his master would cause him more pain, even if that would not be of the kind that gave bruises. “What happened?” He could not muster a reply. Even less a shrug. “Osapi, you snuck out and returned home beaten and nude. I am your master and I have the right to know.” Yes, she had. He hoped for a plausible lie to come to his mind but his head was blanc except for images of Jamil and the beating. His master was a patient woman. She did not move restlessly. She waited for his reply and the room was silent as a tomb. “Since you lost, you were attacked off guard,” Avia said. He sure had been. Nice she thought that much of him. Soon she would feel nothing but despise. “And the only time I can think of where you would be so unguarded and nude at the same time is in bed with another person. Am I right?” “Yes,” he whispered. “There are no parents here, insisting on marriage or financial compensation. My guess is, you were with another man.” It was as if his ability to breath had stopped. Soon she would leave him never to return. “Was he as beaten up as you?” “I don’t know.” Avia rose. “I would like to give the people treating you like this a lesson. Tell me what I

need to know.” Osapi rolled to his back, looking at Avia for the first time. “Am I still your apprentice?” “Everyone loses a fight now and then. Attacking someone with his fence down is dirty play. But it was not your fault.” “But Jamil is a man.” Avia gave him a coy smile. “You should’ve told me you had someone you loved here. I tell him you’re fine and make sure he’s safe.” “Thank you.”

Avia marched down the alley towards the house Osapi described. She was not sure what made her most upset: people who used violence to separate two people in love, or the shame the young two felt for being themselves. No one should ever need to excuse themselves for who they were. And no one should interfere and claim they were better to judge who to fall in love with than the two involved. She banged her fist against the door’s woodwork. A man opened. She pushed the door opened and ignored him, invading the home without blinking. She was not a dog begging at the bottom of the stoop. She was a warrior, and she was there to teach these people a thing or two. “Who are you? Get out!” the man tried. “Are you Jamil’s father?” The nod was ever so small, but it was a confirmation. She grabbed the front of his clothes and pulled him close with one hand as she draw her knife with her other. His eyes fell on the sharp blade before she placed it under his chin.

“You didn’t see this coming, did you?” “Who are you?” “You attacked my apprentice when he was most vulnerable. You seem to think you’ve the right to remove him from his lover’s arms, beat him up and leave him naked in the dirt. Did you expect these acts to unnoticed?” Before he had time to answer she swung herself around with the man still in front of her, facing the other way, where she had heard someone enter. “And if you take one step closer, your father will get his throat cut. And I mean it!” The young man dropped the wooden club he had held in his hands. A woman turned up beside him, probably the mother. The young man was likely a younger son. “Did you beat Jamil up just as bad as you did with my apprentice?” “No,” said the man in her hands. “The other man intruded! He—” “That other man is my apprentice and the only reason you beat him up is because he and your son love each other.” “How can you call that love?” spat the woman. “Because it is!” Avia snapped back. “Now bring Jamil in here! I want to see that he’s fine. If you’ve harmed him in any way…” She stopped herself from fulfilling the sentence. She did not want to come with empty threats. If she said she would cut a finger for each bruise on Jamil, she might put herself in an impossible position. The mother left and returned soon enough with a dashingly handsome young man. He seemed frightened and stared at the scene in the room. “Here he is. Unharmed,” the mother pointed out. “As we said. Now go!” Bold words considering her husband had a knife by his throat.

“I’m Osapi’s master,” Avia explained to Jamil. “How are you? Have they beaten you?” “Is he alright?” the young man asked without answering her questions. “He’ll be on his feet soon enough. How about you?” His eyes darted between her and his parents. She got the point. She pushed the father away. “Get out of here. All of you. Except for Jamil. I want a word or two with him. Alone.” The other three left the room and Jamil closed the doors. Avia put her knife away. “Will you punish him?” he whispered. “Who?” “Osapi.” “For your meeting? No. Why?” He did not answer that question either. “Will you harm my parents?” “Not likely, but I can’t make any promises.” She gave him a grin in an effort make him relax a bit. It did not work. Perhaps she looked evil instead. “They punished me.” The voice was thin. He picked up a cane leaning in a corner. “With this.” Avia sighed. They had given him a beating as if he was a child or a dog. “Son, if you want to leave, I can help you. Osapi is my responsibility and if he loves you, you’re part of that responsibility too.” “You care for me?”

“I care for Osapi. And ignorant and narrow-minded people like these pisses me off.” “They are my parents,” he pointed out. Avia shrugged. She had no need to keep a polite facade not to hurt any feelings. His family were people she despised, end of story. She watched Jamil’s agony not knowing what to do. “Can I come with you just to see if he’s at good health?” Avia nodded. It was time to leave. Any longer and the family would cook something up she did not want to face. They left the house without any fuss or noise. Just walked out the same way as she came in.

It was a long time ago Avia had thought about her. Her baby. Not Arica, the child born within a marriage with her husband, but the child she had given away. She had been only sixteen at the time and he had been strong and handsome, with eyes that made her skin burn. Her master had never blamed her for having him. Nor did he force her into a choice. They had walked to villages where none of them had been before and searched for a childless couple. When they had found one they had stayed with them and let things happen as they must. When Avia had held her newborn baby she had not felt any overwhelming love. She knew it would probably come if she kept the baby but she was not ready for it. She had thought that moment would never come when she would want to have a child again. The man and the woman caring for her, shone of love when she handed them the red, screaming little human. Why would she ever think she would do a better job? She knew the social rules. She was already in the rim of the acceptable as a future warrior. If the baby stayed with her, the child would be an outcast from the start. And Avia herself would not be able to fulfill her training for many years to come. The years as a warrior’s apprentice she had been happy years for

her. Her life had been complete. Just as she had later with Putt, she had questioned if she did as she did for herself or for the child. Back then, as a sixteen-year-old, she had seen no future for any of them if they stayed together. That was the mind of the youth that she were then. Today she would lie to herself if she claimed she missed the child. It was not that she asked herself what had become of her baby. If the girl was happy or not. Or calculated the girl’s age. No, this time it was more of a thought what young ion could lead to. Not that a baby would be a problem in Osapi’s case, but the situation was the same. Hot ion for another human body that attracted you beyond any clear thought. So easy it had been to just let go and let yourself be full of the moment, with no thoughts about anything but now. It was a blessing to be able to. Avia had never let go like that ever again. She was a warrior, and as such she kept control. Even more so since she knew what letting go could become. Yes, she had had a child, but it was not the baby as such but the head-over-heals ion that had been before it that kept her in control after that. Her memories with the man was blurry and foggy in a way she did not like. It was as if he only happened in a dream. It was meetings and doing no one saw but them and so stories were told and ed from ear to ear. She did not even tell herself stories about their forbidden meetings, afraid to keep the memories to close at hand. In the end it was the stories that survived. She had loved her husband and he had had an attractive body, strong and fit all the years they lived together. But she had never been able to ignore what was around her in the same way as she had when she was sixteen and filled with ion. Her adventure in her youth had been possible because she was young and not fully trained. And not yet suffered the consequences of doing something forbidden. Would Osapi be able to love in the same way again? Or would he hold back, always looking over his shoulder, wondering if the door was locked and the windows shut?

Bahadur was not happy about the new guest Avia had brought back. Jadoog

could see he was annoyed but had too much respect for Avia to tell her to her face. “What bothers you?” Jadoog asked his brother, though he had a pretty good idea. “I know it’s not my concern, but… It’s not natural!” “And killing people for money to amuse an audience is?” “What’s that got to do with it?!” “Everything. Except you choose to kill people. You don’t chose who you fall in love with. And they love, don’t kill. It’s people like you who kill. And Jamil’s parents wish they had your talent for it, to get rid of Osapi. The apprentice you praised and said he was the sanest and most thoughtful and smart knife-throwing bastard you had ever met.” Bahadur glared at his brother, considering every syllable that had been said. “I hate when you do that.” “What?” “Throw my own words back at me.” “Am I wrong?” Jadoog could feel his brother’s inner conflict. “How would you’ve reacted if Jamil was a woman? Do what feel right based on that idea.” Bahadur sighed and nodded. “I can do that.”

Chapter Eleven

Land of dry and flood

Jamil followed them when they left Posita the next day. Avia was not completely comfortable with the situation and she had made it clear to both Osapi and Jamil that it could only be temporary. Osapi was still an apprentice and as such he had to be focused on his training and his master. He was free to have an relationship but to bring the other half of it along was not appropriate. It was not possible to share your time between both parts when both parts required your full attention. While Osapi nodded, Jamil objected. “But you said you had a responsibility for me as well.” “I said I help you stay safe, and to come and see Osapi, to see that he was alright. It does not mean that I’ll keep you with food and shelter for any length of time.” “But—” “We’re grown men, Jamil,” Osapi pointed out. “We can work this out.” Then he had turned to her.’ “He need to get out of town, Master.” She had nodded. They took a detour through the woods following her well trained instincts about direction. Not only did she long for hunting and campfires, it was also a matter of safety. If they were followed by someone hired by Jamil’s parents, it was less likely they would be found in the woods. While the meat cooked and Jadoog and Putt had left for their training, Avia asked Jamil about what plans he had had for the future, before he left.

“I was supposed to run my father’s business.” He looked down on the ground, moving pebbles with a stick. “Guess he won’t let me now.” “You don’t know that.” Jamil laughed with a snort. “Yes, I do.” Avia sighed. At least this was old enough to take care of himself. It was not an eleven-year-old. “What do you like to do?” she tried. He frowned. Had he not given it a thought? “Like work with animals, bake bread…” When he shrugged she almost screamed in frustration. “I made it clear that you could not follow along more than a day or two. What were you thinking?” “What?” “How are you supposed to yourself when you leave us?” “You said you had responsibility for me.” Avia stared at him. Not again! Had they not discussed this already? Jamil\s eyes went to Osapi, but there was no help to find there in this issue. Osapi knew what it meant to be an adult. “She’s not your mother, Jamil. She said you could stay with Bahadur.” “If I could pay, and I can’t.” “You left your home with nothing and expect me to take care of you? You’re old enough to be married.” “Well, I won’t marry and you said—” Avia jumped to her feet and fastened the string to the bow.

“Osapi, talk some sense to him.” She left for some more hunting. This was more than she could take. How could he even think she would him financially? She had come to make sure he was at good health, to see if there were any dangers. He had followed her to say goodbye to Osapi and never left. A horrible thought crossed her mind: she could not stop him from following them. But she could not bring him along even if she could hunt for them all. She could not have someone watching the training, someone Osapi wanted to impress and protect. It was worst possible situation. If she had known Osapi had lost his heart to someone she could have prepared him on beforehand. As it were, she had had a quick talk about why it was to no good, and Osapi had agreed. Jamil had wanted to leave the city and told them they would go separate ways after a day or two. What had the boy been thinking? That someone would pay for his accommodation? That he did not need to work? She wished he ended up on a farm with lots of animals where he would learn what it meant to earn his living. Osapi met her when she returned with their dinner. They walked a bit back up among the trees to keep the others from hearing. “Was it fair to dump this on me?” Osapi blamed her. “No. It wasn’t.” “Did you say he was your responsibility too?” Avia hated this. “Yes. But not in the way he thinks I did.” Osapi sighed. Avia felt as their roles had been reversed. He was now the one cleaning up her mess, not the other way around. “What shall we do?” she hissed, desperate about the mistake she had done. “I’ve explained to him where we’re going. He says he can play the role of a servant or relative or something, but to be honest I don’t think he is able to pull

that off. And it’s a too great risk. Alone, no one could tell. When we are two… I’m not even sure if I can look at him without it showing.” Avia nodded. Probably not. “And…” Osapi hesitated. “I want to continue be your apprentice. I want to become a real warrior with a brand to prove it. With Jamil around…” “You’ll lose focus. I know,” Avia ended his sentence. Osapi studied a tree beside her, not looking into her eyes. “I know you’re not supposed to not be with the one you love but…” “Don’t you think I’ve been there too?” Avia asked him. “Believe me or not, but I have been in your age and in love. I know what it’s like to leave a lover behind because you want to want to complete your training, to finish what you started, to become the one you feel you’re supposed to be. This doesn’t mean it can’t be you and Jamil in the future. You don’t have to leave him for good.” Osapi gave her a hug. “Thank you.”

That night by the fire Avia had explained the situation to Jamil. She asked for his apology for expressing herself unclear at the time when they left the house of his family. Jadoog and Putt had stayed silent, not to make things worse for the lost young man. It was bad enough to have two people explaining to you that you had to take responsibility for you own life when you was not prepared for it. To have four doing the same could have been devastating. Besides, they knew it was not their fight. When they reached the road the next day, Jamil walked the other way, telling them he would return home. Avia watched him leave with a lot of unanswered questions. Perhaps he would be welcomed back. Perhaps not. If he was not, it was sure time for him to learn to earn his own keep. She hoped Osapi and Jamil would find each other again one day.

She felt bad about the situation. It was partly her fault that the young man had ended up days away from a place he knew. Mostly her fault really because she was the senior of them all and should have know better. She was so used to her kind of people, independent people, fighters. Jamil was a town boy, groomed to inherit the family’s business. She should have guessed there would be misunderstandings. Even if misreadings were both ways and a fault from both parts, Avia was the one used to many different people. The young man probably assumed there was nothing to misunderstand. If Avia was honest with herself she knew why things had gone wrong. She had wanted to protect the young man from the narrowminded people in his family and had spoken without much thought, assuming a framework not established. Without that framework, she had indeed said she would care for Jamil. When the young man left them he had told them he would be alright. Even if he did not like the situation he would most likely make it back without problem. If his family did not accept him, he could stay with Bahadur. Hopefully he would use the experience of this to something useful. Avia had seen young spoiled brats become clever and competent adult to there was hope. Jamil was beyond her reach now.

The landscape changed from forest to a vast plain of grass. Putt noted the farms were bigger and wealthier than any farm he had ever seen before. These farmers did not only secure their own living. They could sell quite a lot of redundancy. To his dismay they stayed at the inns. He guessed Jadoog paid for them. His grandmother did not have a lot of money and what she earned she spent to get good materials to care for her weapons. He was sure she would have preferred to hunt and stay outdoors, but the landscape did not allow it. It was not her domains, her game. She would not be there if it was not for his request. The next day they came to the first houses built on poles. The house rested on a wooden platform which was kept from the ground with sturdy solid tall poles. To reach the house you had to climb a ladder.

“It’s because this area is flooded most of the time,” Jadoog told him. “For a few months each year the tide turns and the water leaves. Then they can so and hope to have time to harvest.” Then they reached the first village, also on poles. It was time to find an inn for the night so they climbed one of the ladders. The houses were built tight together in groups on separate platforms. To move between them you had to cross one of the bridges, which revealed they were quite high up in the air. Putt closed his eyes and held one hand on each railing. It helped some but enhanced the creaking sound from the boards instead. “You know, the people who live here walk on these daily,” Avia said behind him. “I don’t think they would have lethal ages.” “Well, I don’t know about that,” Jadoog returned ahead of them. “People tend to made do what they have and see losses as inevitable.” “Thank you,” Putt mumbled and kept his eyes closed. On the other side, Jadoog pointed at the poles on the nearest platform. “See that line?” On the pole a little down from the top it changed color and became dark green. “It’s as far as the water goes when flooding.” Putt looked down to the ground. If he stood on his master’s shoulders down there, he might reach the surface of the water. “What do they do if someone fall into the water?” “They use their arms and legs to keep afloat.” Putt stared at Jadoog. Did he pull his leg? Your body did not change its weight just because you moved your arms and legs. Either you sank or you floated. What you did with your body did not matter. “They do,” Jadoog assured him. “You should come here in flood and see for yourself.” The bare thought made him terrified. All that water. That deep water. Standing on this very platform knowing exactly how deep the water was and what was down there.

“The Temples are built on the ground, right?” “On solid rock,” Jadoog confirmed. “Rest assured. It’s all above the flood-line. And tomorrow we will see it.” Putt felt his heart beat of excitement and nervousness. Would his questions get an answer? Would he leave enlightened and wise? He was just a child, but he was a wizard’s apprentice. He could need some insights.

Osapi sat outside the inn up on the platform, watching the dark sky to the north. Somewhere in that direction was Jamil. Hopefully he was at home or with Bahadur. He had left for Jamil’s home that night because he missed him. He had never been with anyone but Jamil. He was the only one he had dared to show who he really was. It had been a desire coming from his body as well from his soul. Though they both had known about the need for secrecy, he had never once considered what consequences there would be if they got caught. It had not ended well, but that was not what made him stay up late. Two questions nagged his mind. His Master had considered Jamil his love-interest, but had Jamil that part in his life? Just because they had met and dared to be themselves with each other, did that meant it was love? It could just as much be lack of options, together with a need that had to be fulfilled. He had no experience in any other relationship. He was incapable of telling if he loved Jamil in a way that made it possible to share an entire life together. The second question was if Avia’s interference had been for the better. He hated to it it, but his instincts told him his master had made a mistake. Some things were better left alone. Avia had stirred a hornet’s nest in her noble effort to protect him and his partner. It was so grand of her to accept his lover and doing so without any questions or arguments. Yet, this including attitude was quite naive when it came to other people’s thoughts about two men making love. She acted as she would have done towards any normal, ordinary couples in love with trouble. If Jamil had been a woman, it would have been frowned upon since they were not married

and not officially together. It would have been likely they would have gained the family’s blessing. He and Jamil were two youths in love, yes, but they were two men. It was not trivial to work outside the social norms. To treat the situation as if it was within what was social acceptable, did it not make things worse? When Osapi grew up he had understood that he was different but it took him quite some time to figure out in what way. He had not dared to explore his feelings. He knew what he would find did not fit what was expected. He had forced it aside for some other time. Two men together was a source of poor jokes and despise from others. What felt natural for him, did not seem to be natural for other men. Osapi feared he would find himself a freak if he looked too deep in his soul. One night at a party he saw Jamil. And what he felt in his body he tried to hide for himself by drinking. He had not become drunk enough before the beautiful young man had guided him outside and to a dark ally. He knew what young people did in those places but he had never thought it would happen to him. Not the way he was. But it did. There was at least one more man in the world who enjoyed physical closeness to other men. And Jamil was sensual and handsome. Jamil had later told him that it was not the first time he visited that ally. He had brought a girl there once. Because that was what he was suppose to do. And she had wanted him to take her there. It did not help much. She was nice and pretty and willing, but they had to part with mutual disappointment. Jamil had then decided not to do that again unless he was sure he wanted to, as well. It had turned out he was not waiting for a girl, but a boy. Osapi’s meeting with Jamil that night had been the first time for both of them. They had been partner for a few years, in secret, up until Osapi had left to find Avia. Would he return to Jamil? He had rarely met him outside the ion of his lover’s room. To see him behave as child depending on a parent had not been uplifting. What kind of relationship would they have? Would he be the one taking care of Jamil, or was there hope Jamil would catch up? His lover had grown up as the oldest son of a wealthy merchant. The only trade he needed to learn was that of his father and no matter if he mastered it or not he would inherit one day. He had never had to work for a living, never had to ask himself

what he wanted to do with his life. He was spoiled. A clean-limbed, beautiful, and utterly spoiled young man. The thought of Jamil had its effect on him. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wooded wall of the inn. He was a warrior’s apprentice, in love with a gorgeous man, on his way to the world’s heart of religious life. His master had asked him about his opinion about the target of the journey. He had not thought about it much then. Then it had been a year since they met. But he knew what he was and should have considered if it was wise to follow along. Perhaps it was nothing to question. His task was to go where his master commanded him to go. If Avia dared to go, he would be a coward not to come. She was exposed as well, being a warrior. She knew how to handle it and he could learn from her. Still, a nagging feeling told him this would not turn out well.

On the other side of the inn, facing south, stood Avia and Putt. “Jadoog says we’ll be at the temples tomorrow.” The enthusiasm in the boy’s voice was unmistakable. Avia nodded. “If he says so.” Putt watched her. “Grandma?” “Yes?” “I’ve never seen you like this before.” “Like what?” The boy’s eyes avoided hers. He shrugged. “Uncomfortable. Out of place.” He paused and then: “Insecure. Sort of.”

He was right. She was. All of it. “It’s always the first time for everything, Putt. It’s just a long time since it was the first time for me. I’m so used to the things I usually do. I always strive to learn new things, but this… you’re right. It’s a lot of new things for me at once.” Putt’s hand found hers. It was cute of him. She appreciated his effort to comfort her and hugged his hand back to assure him it was all fine. “Putt, I hope you’ll find the answers you’re missing. And if you don’t, I hope you never stop looking. Learning is good. Experiences are good. Even the painful ones.” The boy nodded. “I know. But I still miss my parents.” Avia saw his other hand fly up to his face to dry a tear. “I know. I didn’t mean it was a good thing your parents died.” The boy’s head bobbed up and down again. “You meant that now that I have the experience I should use it for something good inside me, instead of letting it eat me.” “Well stated,” Avia nodded in approval. Putt sent her a smile. “Jadoog said about the same thing.” “Good. He’s right.” They watched the flat landscape disappearing into the darkness. It was only possible to tell where the land ended and the sky started because of the stars. Putt leaned his head back and watched them. “It’s like an endless space up there,” he whispered. “It scares me.” “When you talk to one of those priests he’ll tell you it’s the surface of a large

bowl you see.” His eyes met hers. “Granny, I know you don’t believe there are any gods or goddesses. And I know the sky is not a pot turned upside down over the world.” Avia saw the eyes of an adult. She blinked. Her grandson did indeed want answers, and he would not buy the quick ones, the easy ones. She smiled. Her beloved grandson would really put those servants of the gods to a test. She wished them luck.

Chapter Twelve

The Temples

The flat landscape was broken of a giant rock sticking out of the ground. The rock was large as a mountain with steep sides and a flat top. It was as if some god dropped it in the wrong place when ing. For Avia it appeared as awkward and misplaced as it must have been for those seeing it thousand years ago. They must have taken her association with the gods more literary than she ever would since they built the first temple on that lost divine boulder. Gods’ involvement or not, the cliff was impressive. From where they were on the plains she could count to five temples. She saw three on the top and two on the sides. One of them on the top was bigger than the rest. Pillars framed it and held a roof of many colors towards the sky. As they approached the dirt-road they were walking on turned into white marble. As they came nearer the mountain, the marble rose from the ground and became a age up to the area constantly above the waterline. It was completely built in solid marble. Where it ended, by the edge of the cliff, a grand staircase, also in white marble, continued up the hill. Everything seemed to be in this shiny, flourcolored stone. When they had reached the beginning of the white road it had been marked by two equally white sculptures. Further up were another pair. They were painted from the shoulders and up. “The water-line” Jadoog explained. “Colors been washed away.” “Do they stand rain?” Avia could not help asking. It was a wide difference between being under water for three quarters of a year and a little rain. At the end of the road the statues where completely painted. They were bright and shiny, but not tasteful in Avia’s opinion. She would have called them a

bragging show off if someone asked. They were a mere display of expensive pigments, not bothering with reality of how things really appeared. The artist obviously did not see a problem with blue hair and golden skin. There was a square at the end of the road and then the long staircase she had seen from afar. Standing just below it and it was one of the most magnificent things she had ever seen. She watched Putt. He stood agape trying to look in every direction at once. The smooth white stone under his feet, the stairs, the temples with its pillars nearby, the road they came by, the roads leaving the square that seemed to go around the mountain. It was impossible to get it all at once. It was too much new. Jadoog seemed more relaxed but he had been there before and had had time to sort his impressions. Osapi seemed tense in a way that was unlike him. “What is it?” she whispered, unsure if the answer was something he wanted everybody to know and gave him a chance to speak his mind in private. “All the statues are soldiers.” “So?” “Soldiers, not warriors. They all look the same and they are all male.” Avia still did not get what worried him. She watched along the road they had come, looked at the statues around the square and up the staircase. “Soldiers are loyal,” Osapi pointed out. “And they do not count as individuals. They strive towards conformity. Everything we aren’t.” The last statement hit her like a fist. She knew what soldiers were. Those she had spoken to had had no high thought about warriors, and seen her as a competitor or a charlatan. Statues were not made out of nothing. Money was needed. And they had used them to chip out soldiers instead of gods or heroes. Soldiers protected, but so did gods and heroes. Soldiers did also attack. “They’re just statues” Avia said, but she heard her own voice. There were no reinsurance in it.

Putt took the lead up the stairs. The mountain was too steep for a staircase so rock had been chipped away to make the angle functional. A gigantic work. Halfway up he stopped and stared at a temple chopped right into the mountain. A gaping hole with torches following the cave inside made it look like a dragon’s mouth and throat. Which god or goddess did this temple represent? His eyes wandered to Jadoog for guidance. He shook his head. “Later.” Putt turned his eyes up the stairs. Yes, this was where he was heading. He would have time to learn about every temple all in due time. Before he was all the way up it felt as if the steps would never end. Finally they reached the entrance to the plateau. Rows of pillars rouse from the staircase holding a roof high over their heads, forming a portal of sorts. The ceiling was painted with figures and items which probably made sense for someone who was educated enough to know the stories. For Putt they were nothing more than pretty pictures. He felt like a stupid farmer’s boy. “You’re a wizard’s apprentice,” Jadoog said beside him. “You’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” Putt felt at ease. “You’ll learn the stories if you want to. They are a lot easier to learn than what I usually teach you.” When they ed the gateway they reached the end of the staircase and there, right in front of them, was the largest temple ever built. They had all seen it from afar. Until they came so close to the mountain that the vision got blocked by the mountain itself. Eight magnificent stone pillars rose like a wall. The gap between the pillars were just as wide as a pillar, and still two or three men could each other without problem in the space between them. The pillars were at least five people high. From what Putt could see pillars like that were all the way around the temple, as a border. What they saw was just the gable, the short side. Massive figures in

stone were carved out of the marble in the triangular area between the roof and the pillars. They were painted with bright colors shining in the sun like beacons. Cool air hit his face when he ed the massive outer boarders of the temple and came into the shadow of the magnificent roof. Putt saw another set of pillars behind the first ones. These where slimmer and left more empty space. Behind them solid stone walls framed off the inner area of the temple. He continued ahead and looked inside. In the inner room stood a golden statue almost as high as the temple. Its delicate body told Putt it was in metal and not stone. Its proportions were human, male, but its head was one of a wolf. It stood in a pose ready to attack with a spear. All in gold. “It must be the boy’s first visit here,” a voice spoke beside him. Putt returned to the real world and saw they were not alone. Beside him stood a man in long white robes, probably a priest. And people of all kinds moved in and out and around the temple. He turned his head and saw his granny and Osapi by the first row of pillars. “You’re right,” Jadoog answered on his other side. “I think I was just as dazed on my first visit.” “I presume you’re his master?” “I am,” Jadoog confirmed. The priest bent down to be in Putt’s eye-level. His hair and short beard were like bronze, his eyes were green as grass. “Hello, I’m Tanilar Saldiris. I’m a spiritual leader here. I hope you’ll enjoy your visit, and if you’ve any questions, not matter how stupid you think they may be, just come to me. Or if you want to learn something new, find me. I’m here to help you.” “Thank you, sir.” “Oh, I’m no ‘sir’, son. It’s Tanilar Saldiris, or ‘your Reverence’. What’s your name?” Putt felt his cheeks turn hot. What was his name compared to this priest’s. It was

short and had no glory or positive vibe to it. Not more fascinating than dirt. “I’m Putt.” “Putt, I’m happy that you came here. You’re most welcome.”

Avia heard it all from her place by the pillars and she did not like it. “He’s a slimy bastard,” she hissed. “What?” Osapi stared at her. “That priest. He’s ingratiating.” “Master, don’t you think you overdo it to call him ‘slimy’ and ‘bastard’ when he probably just want to be friendly and welcoming?” Perhaps. She had never trusted people who behaved like that. On the other hand she knew friendliness could take that shape too. Osapi was probably right. Even if the man was dressed all in white to prove he did not need to work for his living. At least not a work of a common man. If she had not had such aversions for priests, per se, she would never called the man ‘slimy’ for wishing her grandson welcome. She tried to relax. “Any idea where we are supposed to stay,” she asked Osapi and took her eyes away from the vile man. Her apprentice shook his head. “It’s the first time for me too, Master, ?” Avia hated this. Every bone in her body wanted to leave. She had committed herself to this journey and she could not just go. She should have known this would happen. It was not the lack of control, it was the commitment. By her age she should know she did not do well to bind herself to projects she was not ioned about. Especially those where she could not leave when the shoes no longer fit. It did not matter it was her own grandson. She could only follow along as long

as she could leave. That was what she had told herself that she could do too, but when she listened to that priest luring Putt, she knew she would never be able to leave him here. She trusted Jadoog with all her heart, when it came to his wizard’s education. But when it came to the gods she was still not sure. And Putt was still young and naive. From where she stood she could not see the whole statue, but she could see enough to tell it was gigantic. There to impress and make people gawk. If you could not impress with other, more intellectual means, add gold to the story and they all come like flies. “Do you know how many kids that could get food for a year with the gold from that statue?” Osapi stared at her in horror. “Master!” “What?” “It’s made in the honor of the god it represents! You don’t honor a god with less than the best.” “Don’t you think the god would be happier if his children were fed instead?” “That’s not how it works! You honor the god and the god, if he’s in a good mood and likes what you gave, he feeds the children.” Avia snorted. For her, that was just a convenient way to not do your job as a human being and be able to blame the gods for the result. It was not the right time or place for an argument and Avia kept those last thoughts to herself. Putt and Jadoog ed them. “Where do we stay?” She heard she sounded like a sulky five-year-old. It was not far from how she felt too. She hoped it did not show. At her age and her profession she should know better. Her party heard and knew her well enough to get the picture. Jadoog took them ed the main temple and several minor ones to the opposite

side of the plateau. There, a stone-paved road led downhill along the steep cliff to large stone house. “Odd place for an inn,” Osapi said. “It’s not an inn,” Jadoog returned. “It’s a guest house, free to use for all visitors. And it’s placed here to stay in the shadows and remain cool.” “Good thinking,” Putt ired. Avia nodded. She liked when things were done with consideration and care. They walked inside. Two floors with nothing but two big halls where people had claimed their spot to sleep on and keep their belongings. No privacy whatsoever. They would be sleeping with hundreds of strangers. She knew her traveling companions. Osapi was the only one of them who did not care about crowds and a lot of people around him. On the contrary, he seemed to enjoy himself the most among other people, the more the better. She saw a free corner and headed for that. Jadoog caught her arm. “Not the corners. It doesn’t look good.” She pulled herself free and gave him a glare. “And you don’t care,” he concluded. “No. I don’t. And what really is, and what judgments people make, are two different things. I will not squeeze myself in between some strangers when there is free space, just because someone thinks ‘it doesn’t look good’.” “This will inflect on Putt too,” he said. No, he pleaded, Avia realized. Would he take Putt with him and find another, more suitable spot to sleep in? Well, if so, it was his choice. She would still be near enough. “Conformity has a price. And so does a free mind. What kind of price Putt wants to pay must be up to him. No matter where I place myself on this floor, I will influence his choice. And since I does, I want to affect him with what I think is right.” Jadoog nodded.

“I respect that."

Chapter Thirteen

Among the gods

Putt sat on his blanket and waited for the others to wake up. In the whole dormitory he seemed to be the only one awake. The sun was not yet up. He was not familiar enough with the stars to know if the sun was about to rise sometime soon. It would have been best if he had gone back to sleep, but he was wide awake, alert, ready to find his answers. He leaned out his head through the window and saw the tint of light in the east. He left the guest house. The area was not bigger than they would find him, he figured. Outside he met priests and priestesses following the road up to the plateau. He had not seen them the day before, but there were more buildings like the guest house just below the rim. All the men and women came from these. So this were where they lived. He did not see Tanilar Saldiris among them, but it was still dark and all the priests were dressed the same. He tried to use his wizard’s ability to read minds but they were too many and he too inexperienced. He sensed in some way - magic or gut he did not know for sure - they were going to a sermon. No one waved for him to come and he was not sure if he was welcome, so he waited until he was alone again. Then he followed. On top of the plateau he saw them walk to the major temple, the one with the huge golden statue. When he got closer he saw it was only the men going there. He looked around for the women. There were no major group of them. He found them shattered among the other, minor temples. Some of them sang. Voices from other temples with other melodies ed. It should have been a mess of music, but it had a soothing effect on Putt, somehow. Then the male choir from the temple of all temples overtook and drowned the priestesses’ spread out voices. It was as a boom of strength and power. Male

such. Putt had never thought the almost invisible priests capable of such demonstration. It was majestic, captivating. Putt waited outside the whole ceremony. He listened to the singing, praying, chanting and more singing. He completely forgot about the priestesses. His full focus was on the grand temple and the group of men. “I understand you get spellbound,” a voice said close to him and he jumped. Beside him stood a priestess just a few years older than himself. “The loudest one always get the power to do what they want, don’t they?” “What?” he said, blinking by surprise. “If you’re heard over all others, you get the power.” An older priestess ed her and pulled her along. He heard her protest and something about ‘it was just a boy’. He had not come all this way to be ‘just a boy’. Perhaps he still was. Even though he was a wizard’s apprentice. He watched the two priestesses leave, arguing, and did not notice the male choir had stopped singing until Tanilar Saldiris stepped up in front of him. “You must be an early riser, young man,” he greeted him. “Would your master disagree if I invited you for breakfast?” “I don’t think so,” Putt replied, sure Jadoog would encourage him. “Thank you.”

Tanilar Saldiris took him to one of the priests’ house Putt had seen that morning. The bottom floor was occupied with tables and stools. The priest got him seated and left for some food. There were men in all ages sitting on the tables around him. Their dress was like a long white piece of cloth wrapped around their body. Putt saw glimpses of a dress under it though. They also had bracelets, but they differed both in look and numbers on each individual he saw. The basic idea seemed to be a strip of leather tied around the wrist, but it was colored or decorated or both in all different manners. Putt did not see two that were alike. Tanilar Saldiris returned with bread, tea and honey.

“Why do you carry that long white fabric?” Putt asked even before the priest got seated. “It doesn’t seem practical to need to hold your clothes in place all the time.” The man smiled. “That’s the point. We work for the gods. Since we don’t need our hands for much else, we keep them occupied.” “But you got a dress underneath” Putt pointed out. Tanilar Saldiris laughed. “Well, we don’t want to embarrass ourselves either. It’s difficult to keep that strip of cloth covering what it should cover. Better to keep it on a symbolic level.” Putt felt his cheeks get hot, and nodded in agreement. “Can you tell me more about your bracelets?” “Every priest make their own. They represent significant happenings in your life.” Tanilar Saldiris thumbed on his. They were two on his left and three on his right. “What happened that made you make that one?” Putt pointed at one of them in random. “They all represent things that happened in our personal and spiritual life. Private stories.” “Oh,” was all Putt could say. He considered what the priest had said. “That means…” He halted when he realized what he was about to say. “Yes?” “That means you don’t know if someone makes bracelets just to look important.” Tanilar Saldiris laughed and Putt relaxed. “Your grandmother is a warrior, isn’t she?” “The best there is.”

“So I can understand why you think we make these to impress each other and not for real reasons. But you forget one thing, young man, and that is that the gods see us. And we are priests, those closest to the gods. We don’t lie. The gods’ punishment on us are far more severe than if they punish someone like your grandma.” Putt blinked. Priests did put warriors on the other side of the scale. It hurt. “My granny is no liar.” “I didn’t say that she was.” “You implicated.” “’Implicated’. That is indeed an advanced vocabulary for such a young boy? Do you know what it means?” “It means that you convey indirectly what you want to say, instead of stating it explicitly. ‘Explicitly’ means you say what you want to say with clear communication.” The reply had been insolent. Putt was on an edge, bothered by the other’s attitude towards Avia. Tanilar Saldiris appeared nothing put impressed by him. “You’re a young man who knows how to use your brain, Putt.” He felt his cheek get hot again. “I’m sure you have more questions, don’t you?” Putt nodded. “I’m also sure your master wonder where you are by now. Seek me out later today, and take him with you. I want to be sure we have his permission to talk.” Putt bounced to his feet, still shy from the praise. “Thank you for your time, your…” He halted, not sure of the correct title, trying to it. “’Reverence’” Tanilar Saldiris filled out. “Thank you for your time, your reverence.” “You’re welcome. I will pray for your good health.”

Jadoog ate breakfast with Avia and Osapi when Putt returned. He knew at once Avia was proud of his ability to take action on his own. At the same time she did not want to let him out on his own on this particular place. The wizard wished Avia could trust Putt enough to let him gain information on his own. The boy was young but he was bright and he did not trust everyone or everything he heard. He did his best to understand what was explained to him and get a sense of if it could be valid. This was something Jadoog had experienced himself when he had not explained things enough and Putt declared that he did not believe what his master just had told him because it did not make sense. Once it had been something Jadoog realized he had never considered himself but just accepted for truth; Once it was his explanation that had been misunderstood by Putt. Though Putt had criticized his teacher he had been delicate about it. Jadoog knew him well enough, and could also read his mind, so he understood what Putt questioned. Another one could ignore the remarks if they were uncomfortable and Putt would probably not prompt it again. He was good with people, his apprentice. Maybe a bit too shy and easy to ignore, but he preferred those traits in a wizard than bluntness. One day Putt would need to find work and it was easier if you were nice. Putt told them all about his morning. About the singing priests, and the young priestess who had been led away, and the talk with the priest that greeted them the day before. “Priestess are not allowed to speak to men, and priests are not allowed to speak to women. That’s why the older priestess was upset and the other one said you were just a boy” Jadoog explained. “And that’s why Tanilar Saldiris wants to talk to me, and not to you Avia,” he added but got a snort in return. He sensed from the boy that Tanilar Saldiris had said something about his granny he had not told them about. Jadoog did not ask. His apprentice had his reasons not to bring it up. Probably he did not wish to upset Avia. “What if I had had a female master then?” Putt asked. “Then they would have had to arrange something with a priestess talking to your

master and a priest listening and then talk to you, but they would not talk directly to each other.” “I hope the gods enjoy the charade they put up to please them” Avia said. Jadoog frowned at her. That was not an appropriate comment. It lacked of respect. Putt did not comment but he should have heard it. He felt as if he had two children to look after instead of one apprentice. This was off topic when it came to wizardry. With Avia behaving the way she did he brought upon himself to guide them both. If they only had pulled in the same direction. Avia was an adult and was able to take care of herself but this was unknown territory for her. What she did not seem to cope was that missteps here were dangerous. Sword and bow may not save her, and worse was that she might drag Osapi and Putt with her. “Tanilar wanted you to come with me later today” Putt told him. “So he could that we could talk.” Jadoog nodded. “I don’t think the priest told you to call him that, did he?” he asked in return. The boy shook his head. “Always address priests and priestesses with their full name or ‘your reverence’. They’re not your best friends. They’re here to help you and to guide you.” “I wasn’t addressing him,” Putt objected. “I was talking about him.” “Use the same when you talk about as when you address them directly and you’ll make less mistakes.” Putt gave the nod of his, indicating that he had understood and accepted.

Avia took Osapi for a walk around the area while Putt and Jadoog left for their meeting with the priest. It was not so much that she had asked for his company as both of them found it natural to stick together. The temples were truly magnificent, she could not deny that. It seemed

impossible for humans to build such things and Avia figured that was the indented impression. “How do you think they built these?” she asked Osapi. Her apprentice stared up a pillar on the major temple. It was possible to make out it was built with five blocks placed on top of each other. Each block was a man’s hight and about three men wide. How many people was needed to move it? And how had they put one on the top of another? “I don’t know,” he said at last. “Enough dedicated builders?” Yes, free or cheap labors were a must. They must also have had some way to lift the stones in place. She wished she had been there to see it built. Then she might even been part of the builders just to learn the mechanics of their lifting devices. The result had little interest for her. It did not add much to her experiences. How they were built was something else entirely. She caught a ing priestess by the arm. “Excuse me, but can you—” Avia released her grip when she realized the inappropriate in such action. “—tell me where I can find information about how these temples were build?” The priestess had taken a step back and her eyes had narrowed. She glared at them both, as if Osapi was one of the guilty ones. “Try the library. It’s down the stairs.” She hurried away before there was time for any more questions. They crossed the plateau and walked down the majestic marble staircase to the square they entered the day before. “You seem lost,” said a voice nearby. They both swung around and faced a neat priest with a short and well-kept beard. Avia saw his eyes searched with her apprentice. They were both men and male priests did not address women. Yet, she was Osapi’s master. This was nothing but lacking of respect! “Yes! I’m looking for the library!” she hissed at him. She saw his eyes sway but he refused to acknowledge her. Osapi refused to meet

his eyes and acknowledge him in return. Her apprentice ed her and did not wish to accept this behavior degrading her. The priest stared at Osapi’s profile. “Did you say you were looking for the library, young man?” he tried. “No. He did not. I did!” Avia snapped. “If you can’t talk to me, you can still hear me, so point in a direction or draw me a map. Don’t stand there and try to convince yourself I don’t exist. I do exist. As do you.” The priest’s eyes wandered to the horizon and then the painted statues nearby. At first Avia was not sure if he suppressed a smile or was annoyed. Then his eyes burned into hers. “It’s that way,” he pointed on the marble road along the mountain side. “Third building. And you should learn your place, woman!” “No little brat tells me what to do! Especially not one who thinks a dick he’ll never use gives him the power to rule others.” She could inflict fear in others with her eyes too and that was what she intended to do with this priest. She was not about to yield. It was a gamble with high stakes. He was not used to resistance, while she had had her fights. She was a warrior, competition was part of the deal. This wimp thought a stern look was all he needed to get what he wanted. Now he had been proven wrong. Yet, he did not give up. She placed her hands on the hilts of her swords. It was not to draw them, as she placed her hands as she might have placed them on her hips. The pose was more of a reminder that she was armed, than an actual threat. A display of power. Real power from her point of view, power that came from herself and not an illusive god. The priest did give up. “You’ll regret this” he muttered and walked away. Empty words. A last action in an effort to keep face. Nothing more. “Master,” Osapi said when the priest was out of hearing distance. “Yes?”

“We are on their land, Master. Should we not then act according to their rules?” They probably should. In most cases she could handle it. But in few places in made significant difference if she was a woman or a man. This was the first place she had ever been where men were considered higher ranked than women. Men and women could be treated differently, yes, she had seen that, but never had it been a matter of ranking, putting one over the other. “I have my limitations,” Avia itted. She could never place herself below someone just due to genitalia. Not even to be polite.

Chapter Fourteen

Information

Avia followed the librarian along the shelfs. Either the man was not a priest or he valued spreading of knowledge higher than his vows because he had had no trouble talking to her. In her heart Avia hoped for the latter. It was nothing she was pleased with. She wanted to be able to view things objectively and this place clouded her judgment. “These documents look old enough to be written at the dawn of men,” Osapi said behind her. “The oldest documents we’ve got is about six hundred years old,” the librarian informed them. “All knowledge before then is lost, I’m afraid.” “All written knowledge,” Avia pointed out. The man nodded in agreement. “True. Though oral knowledge tends to become tales and legends most people think of as pure fiction. And in most cases all the years of telling the story generation by generation has turned them into little else than that. What’s true and what is not can no longer be certified. Writing keeps the content intact for generations. The truth is found within.” “If the writer wasn’t a liar, that is,” Avia added to his monologue. The librarian turned and smiled. “Sometimes, all we need is a bit of trust in out ancestors, don’t you think?” Avia had no reason to believe they lied less then, than in the time she lived, but such argumentation was futile.

“Here we are!” The librarian pulled out a scroll, checked the first part of it, and then handed it to Avia. He checked two more and placed them in Avia’s care. “The story about our temples are in your hands.” “Thank you.” “My deepest pleasure. Let me know if you need anything else.” The man left them and Avia saw tables in an open area in the room. The library was within the mountain. It had a stunning front, like the temples, but its inside was chiseled out of the rock. Room after room with books and scrolls. It was nothing pompous or glorious about it. It was all about keeping it safe. If something happened the halls could be shut and sealed in no time. Avia had not been a patient student in her youth. Though she valued knowledge she had been more of a hands-on person. At her currant age, maybe she could find more pleasure in dusty old documents. If she was inside the library when it was sealed, would she die happy among all the books, or long for a fight instead? She sat down and began to read. What made people able to store and use information gained like this, she asked herself. She could not visualize what it meant, what she read. It was words but her mind could not form them to the kind of knowledge she could use and store in her own way. Osapi had unrolled one of the other scrolls. Avia watched him across the table. He seemed to be able to make something sensible out what was written. He raised his eyes and scanned across the room and the others sitting there, reading. When he saw her looking he returned to the scroll. She did too, but when his eyes flickered and focused somewhere else for the third time, she turned her head to see what he was looking at. When she saw, she kicked his foot under the table and their eyes met. Osapi’s cheeks shifted to red. She gave him a stern reprimand with her eyes. His eyes focused on the scroll but Avia was certain his mind was elsewhere, on that handsome, young priest who met his eyes across the room.

Jadoog was mad at her when she returned to their sleeping quarter. It was understandable he was worried for Putt and his options to get the answers he came for. But it was beyond her grasp that her behavior towards one priest would cause such stir it made Jadoog upset. Besides, it was a matter of clash of different cultures, not an act of revolution. “How will they know the difference?” Jadoog barked at her. They stood alone on a path with no buildings nearby. At least he could speak freely. She preferred that. “In persistence perhaps? Or interest in solving a conflict?” Avia suggested. “You aren’t this stupid!” No she was not. “I know these pompous asses are used to have power. All the power they asked for. And they are used to get things the way they want it.” Avia shook her head in despise. “If they are terrified that someone points out that the sky are blue, their power must be fragile indeed.” “’Fragile’?” Jadoog stared at her. “’Fragile’? These temples have been standing here for four hundred years at least, manifesting the power of all the known gods! The priests and priestesses here have knowledge that’s been collected by generations of true believers who searched for ways to know the gods’ true voices. They have experiences you and I can only dream about. Don’t you dare to sneer at their demands for respect! Don’t you dare!” “I dare!” she shot back at him. “Do you know why?” She did not really gave him time to answer. “Because you, and I, and the farmers, and the bakers, they all have knowledge ed on for generations. But neither you nor I nor the farmers nor the baker claim to be worth more than other because of this. These people here, they do. They think they are worth more than everyone else. And if they have all these power and influence, they should use it with care and consideration, not for their own benefit!” Jadoog did not answer. His face reflected a terror that surprised her. “You’re one person, Avia,” he whispered. “One single individual. What possible difference do you think you can make?”

“None. But that’s no reason to shut up.” “You’ve no clue what they can do to you, do you?” Avia straightened her back. “Do you think I’ve reached this age for no reason?” The wizard gazed at her. “You’re just one single person,” he repeated. “Against the will of the gods.” He walked away. What could they do to her? The gods she did not fear? Nothing. But the priests? If they feared her that much they could try to get her killed. With the emphasis on ‘try’. It was not likely they would succeed. And if they did, it was a death she found more welcome than many other ways to to the other side. What else could they do? Try to spread a rumor about her bad behavior at the temples? Good luck with that. All her years of experience and references could not be wiped away because of a priest’s word from a distant place. And she was a warrior. And outcast and despised by the priests in the first place. Would her bad behavior at the temples surprise anyone?

“Why can’t the gods act directly, like moving things?” Putt asked Tanilar Saldiris. “I mean, they are all-powerful.” “I understand what you mean,” the priest nodded. “But how do you know that they don’t?” The boy stared back at him. “I’ve never seen it.” “But you have seen wind, snow, rain?” Of course he had, so he nodded.

“And you’re gonna tell me that a god created a storm to stop someone?” Putt asked and felt his cheeks getting hot. There was so much he wanted to know and it was not the time to be shy. “I was gonna say that, yes,” Tanilar Saldiris itted. It was an understatement to say the priest seemed baffled and not in any way positive. Putt was there to get answers from those who were supposed to know. He was not there to be polite and evasive, even if he had no intention to be rude. His mother and father had taught him that the gods were there for his sake, his and all humanity. He thought it was his right to ask and learn. “So, if they create a storm to stop someone,” Putt challenged, “does that count for all storms, or are some natural weather?” “Are storms something you think nature needs?” The boy thought about it for a moment and was just about to answer then he reconsidered and said: “Do you redirect all questions you don’t have an answer to?” “Who said I did not have an answer?” “I did. Why else would you redirect instead of answering?” “What happened to the respectful boy I ate breakfast with?” “He’s still here.” “No, he is not!” Tanilar Saldiris rose. “We can talk again, when you’ve learned to show me and the clergy respect.” Putt watched him leave. Was that all? Was it respect to sit and listen and accept every answer as truth? He rose too and strolled back to their living quarters. The dormitory was empty. All the people were out doing their business for which they were here. He sat down in their corner. It did not take long before Jadoog appeared and sat down beside him. Putt was so used to his master feeling his mood he had not considered if there were a maximum distance for his skill.

He expected to hear a complimentary question or two and then the comforting words but the wizard remained silent. “What is it?” Putt asked. He could sense his master’s frustration. It took so long for Jadoog to answer that Putt thought he would not get any. “Why did you have to be so insubordinate?” “Towards the priest? I didn’t know that I was. But he said so.” “Putt, these men and women they deserve respect. They devote their lives to serve. They’ll not have families, own lands, leave a legacy to anyone. If I had known you would behave this rude that I’m told that you did I…” He made a gesture of hopelessness. “Master…” Putt began, careful with his words. “Master, they serve, but doesn’t that mean I’m entitled to get answers? Isn’t that in the nature of ‘serve’? “They serve the gods,” Jadoog said. “That doesn’t make them your servants.” “I know that. I just meant the gods are there for us, and the priests and priestesses are there as an intermediate between men and gods. Shouldn’t they be there to answer our questions then?” “Putt, I think you’ve misunderstood something extremely fundamental. The gods aren’t there for us. We’re there for them. We’re there to bring glory to them, not the other way around.” Putt was agape. It did not make any sense to him. His father and mother had asked their favorite god for good harvest but not once had they asked this so they could give it back to the god. They had chosen that god as their special protector because he had answered their prayers in the past. He had helped them. His parents had left a previous god when he did not do a good job and the new one did it better. Their house god was there to serve them, the family, not the other way around. If the god helped and made things better, they kept him or her. If not, they searched for someone else. There had been two families in the villages who had had the same house god and it became troublesome when it seemed as the god favored one family before the

other. Then of course the whole village shared a god too, there for the safety of them all. He had stood as a wooden sculpture in the center of the village. Putt had always thought of the god as a ‘she’ despite the beard painted on the wood, because he thought of his granny as the protector of the village. She would have done a better job than the god. And now his master told him the gods were their on their own merits to be praised by the humans. That the existence of man was to serve the gods. “That can’t be true.” It was the only thing he could think of to say. “You place far too much importance to yourself if you think otherwise,” Jadoog warned him. The whole meaning of Life… He had not considered himself important but it was his life, on his . “I become nothing more but a slave if you’re right.” The thought horrified him. His master shuddered. “Don’t be so over-dramatic.” Putt saw a hint of a smile in the corner of Jadoog’s mouth. “You have a free will. You can do what pleases you and go where you want. But if you want the world to blossom, you should pay your respect to the gods who created you and all living things. And you shouldn’t expect anything in return.”

Chapter Fifteen

Caught

Avia watched the wet mud on the ground. The way they had got there, over the plains, was no more. The flooding period had started and turned the soil to slippery mud. She had been told it would take at least a week for the water to be deep enough for a boat to . Before that happened, there was no way to leave the Temple mountain. Anyone walking would sink and drown as soon as the road’s pavement ended. She, Putt and Osapi was stuck where they were. They would not be engulfed in goo but it was a small comfort. One day earlier and they might have been able to leave still. She had decided to leave right after Putt had told her what Jadoog had said about the gods. She had understood the different viewing of the relationship to the higher powers. Putt had asked her if his master was right, that mankind was created to serve the gods. She did not know and did not care. Her grandson had been troubled and came to this place to sort things out and get answers. That was not the same as to get his whole life turned upside down. From the priest’s point of view the boy’s ideas might even be considered dangerous. Putt might be in danger. Osapi had searched among people who sworn to live in celibacy. She was an outcast, considered untrustworthy. Where was Jadoog’s loyalty? He would watch Putt’s back, of that she was sure. On the other hand, he was inclined to tell Putt about the rights and wrongs when it came to the gods. In a place like this Putt might not be in a position to follow his guts’ instincts. Jadoog’s idea of safety could very well mean to persuade her grandson to change his standpoint. She longed for her mountains and the solitude there. When they returned, she

would send Osapi on a mission or an exercise that would leave her alone for a while. She felt drained. Utterly spent. There were too much people here. Too many you had to act in front of to please. Too many who thought they had the right to interfere in her life. “So what do we do now?” Putt asked, who ed her together with Osapi. She had sent them to pack and meet her here while she checked their age out. Those obstacles she had had in mind had been about people, not nature. “We’ll return to the dormitory and keep a low profile until we can hire a boat.” Osapi nodded in agreement. “There’s a narrow path up there, from this level, on the other side,” he informed them. “Putt and I took it when we got here. It is little used.” A way to get back without ing the giant, exposed staircase and the temples on the plateau would be a blessing. They hasted on the road around the mountain. Their age was blocked before they got there. By priests.

Somehow Osapi knew at once they had came for him. Avia was provocative but had hardly done anything wrong. Putt was a boy and a child was allowed to do mistakes, and taught the right ways of things. You did not send a posy for that. Because that was what it was: a posy. He was the only one who had been caught seeking eye with people he should not bother with. If his master had seen it, someone else could have too. And the man he had been watching had certainly known of the stare and its implications. Implications that were considered not only highly inappropriate, since it was a man of the cloth, sworn to live in celibacy, but also disgusting and unnatural. As expected, Avia took a protecting, threatening pose in front of the whole party. “We have not come for you,” soothed the priest leading the group.

“I doesn’t matter which one of us three you want, priest” Avia returned. “We’re here to claim your apprentice.” “What for?” Avia asked. Osapi was sure she had a fair guess, just as he. But they both wanted to hear them say it aloud. Only cowards hid what they thought and their doings in smoke and fog. The priest was no coward. He stood up for what the considered was right and felt no shame about it. “That man,” he said and pointed at Osapi, “has shown in the open that he’s sexually attracted to other men.” Osapi only saw Avia’s back but he was sure she had that face with one raised eyebrow that could make someone the slightest insecure feel small and foolish. “Oh? And if I show that I’m attracted to you, will you arrest me too?” she wanted to know. “This is not an arrest, Warrior” the priest sneered back without appearing diminished by Avia. “That man is breaking the law of gods. He needs to answer for his crimes to the gods and pay for them.” “How?” Avia stood as stern as ever. As if she could prevent the storm from coming. “That’s up to him.” The priest moved to get ed Avia but was met by a drawn sword. She was still the fastest person he had ever seen. He took a step forward and whispered in her ear. “Don’t do this, Master. Putt will be in danger.” She turned her head and looked him in the eye. He did not flinch. With steady hands he untied his sword and his belt with his many knifes and handed it all to Putt. “Take care of this until I get back.”

He held up his hands and met the priests. Two of them searched him and then they tied his hands on his back and pulled him along, back up the mountain. He did not look back. Not that he did not want to but because he had made a choose. Whatever he would face next he would need his strength.

One of the priests lingered when the other led Osapi away. He placed himself close to her, ing the borders of her private sphere, as if to show he was not afraid. Of the same reason Avia remained where she was glaring at him. “I know you warriors. You’ll start to fight. But you’re in the wrong place for that.” “Let me be the judge of that.” “Certainly. But I’ll tell you the stakes for a fight. We are not talking about blood. I’m certain you’re eager to spill it. No, I’m talking about your reputation.” Avia snorted. “I think my reputation will survive.” “I know you don’t follow rules, you warriors, and you’re not expected to. You can roam freely, can’t you? But some things are not accepted, it that not so? Not even among warriors…” Avia had no idea where this conversation was going. The priest leaned closer and mumbled into her ear. “A child to an unmarried mother… A disgrace even in your low circles, isn’t it?” The priest backed away and mused at her shocked face. “Thought so,” he smirked and left. She turned to Putt and saw him a few steps behind her, crying. It was not likely he had heard the essential in the threat, standing so far away, when the priest had mumbled close to her.

How did they know about the child? It was over fifty years ago! Did they keep records of rumors and facts that they peeked in when troublesome people like her turned up? If they thought they could stop her by threatening her, they were mistaken.

Putt was terrified. He had not seen any of it coming. Yes, Tanilar Saldiris had not been pleased with him, but this? The priests were good. They stood for what was right and for kindness. These priests had been nothing but threatening. It had been scary and he had been on the verge of crying. Still was. They had taken Osapi! He did not blame his granny for letting it happen. She and Osapi could not attack all of them. Could he have done anything? He was after all a wizard’s apprentice. What had he learned that he could use? He knew how to focus for a long time. He could read minds, a little, if they were close. Jadoog was the only one that came with ease, but he was not sure how much he felt of what he would feel as fully trained. None of it would help them very much now. Osapi had been led away, tied up as a bundle. Helpless. As helpless as Putt felt. They had stood there and watched them leave, he and Granny. She had been composed as always; He on the verge of screaming. “Granny,” he had whimpered. “What are we going to to?” “Get him back,” she hissed behind her teeth. She had marched away with him on her heels and found Jadoog outside the dormitory. He had seen the posy up to the plateau with Osapi. He also told them they had been at their sleeping quarters first and then continued down to the road. Putt got a feeling his master was not shocked or surprised about what happened. “Don’t you care for him?” he wanted to know. Putt felt the same determination to get answers as he had had with Tanilar Saldiris.

“Of course I care for him” Jadoog replied. “He’s your granny’s apprentice. But he came here, to this place. And he should’ve known better.” “He was following me, as any apprentice should,” Avia growled. So his granny should not have come either. She had come because he had begged her to come. “It’s all my fault,” Putt cried. “No!” she said at once. “This is not your fault, Putt. It’s those men who call themselves the voice of the gods, the priests who thinks they knew better than everybody else!” “Or it’s Osapi’s fault who could not let go of his unnatural behavior,” Jadoog said. Putt blinked. “What do you mean?” “Do you think it’s as it should for two men to love each other?” Jadoog watched him with his kind eyes. He saw that Avia tried to burn a hole in Jadoog with hers. Was this about who had the right to love who? No. This was about people’s right to judge other people. Did not his master see this? “Osapi was not interested in following the rules of any gods,” he returned to his master. “Then why do the priest think they’ve any right to punish him for laws he never agreed to follow? We shall take him back, master.” “Putt, you’re not commanding me to do anything.” There was a firm harshness in his tone. He must have sensed from what his mind radiated that it was more than what he had said. Putt had had many questions but on this point he did not sway. “Master, it’s an honor for me to be your apprentice. If you disagree to what I have to do, I’ll have to say goodbye.” He heard his granny take a breath as if to say something. He continued before she had a chance: “Master, if we walked to a place where you were expected to stay with a man,

would you then do so? Or would you accept to be punished for not following the rules?”

Jadoog sighed. He had a fine student in Putt. A raw diamond, not much for the world on the outside, yet. It was not that he thought of Osapi’s attitude towards men acceptable, but Putt had a point. The rules of society shifted from place to place as the set of gods did. No god could cover the whole world. Just because these were the strongest it did not mean that he had not been in places were they were not acknowledged. So far he had not needed to make such drastic choices as Putt had suggested in his hypothetical question but the argument was relevant none the less. And Osapi had only followed the rules between master and apprentice. A standard he himself demanded of Putt. All this was Putt’s fault, in a way, since he had asked Avia to follow. On the other hand, Putt was his responsibility, which meant this whole mess fell upon him, the wizard. “I’m on your side” he said at last. “But it’s complicated for me to assist you in his release.” “In what way?” Avia wanted to know at once. “Wizards and priests, we have a sort of silent agreement. Wizards never act their skills on any servants of the gods. If I go up there and fling the doors open for you, I’ll be breaking a sacred contract.” “You said you don’t have obligations to your guild.” “I don’t, much. But this… Avia, breaking a sacred contract… No. You cannot ask that from me. I’m not willing to die for Osapi, I’m sorry.” This did not please Avia and he flinched for what she thought before she had said it. Putt came between. “You can teach me to open doors.”

Jadoog did not like that suggestion. He shook his head. “You’re my apprentice. It’ll fall back on me.” “Only as being a poor master,” Avia said. “Not as a breaker of sacred contracts.” He was not keen on being called that either but it was better. What else could the boy do to get Osapi free? If he taught him, Putt could do some good in a way Jadoog could control. If he denied the training his apprentice would go rouge. Jadoog hated the whole situation. He was a wizard. These kinds of schemes were below his dignity. There were rules and they were there for a reason. Law and order was the foundation for any stable and civilized society. Wizard may from time to time stand above the law, but this was something else. This was him being placed in a situation where he was forced to take a stand where either choice was were wrong. Had he not had Putt and had responsibility for him, the choice had been easy. He would probably punish his pupil for this later, but it did not help him now. And as much as he wanted to dismiss it, Putt had a point about Osapi’s situation. The priests acted beyond their boundaries. They should have forced Avia to leave with Osapi. “Well?” Avia asked. “Very well, I’ll teach Putt to open doors. But it’ll take time. I’ll try and talk to the priests, too. You’d better look into other options as well.”

Chapter Sixteen

In the dungeons

Why would anyone believe that pain could do you good? That it could heal you or clean you from something you had done wrong? Osapi wiggled his fingers. They had tied the rope tight enough make his fingers go numb. He could hardly feel them any longer. He kept moving them. Though his but hurt like fire there were no permanent damage done on his buttocks as far as he could tell. Just humiliating. Criminals could get their backs whipped, he got his behind exposed and smacked with a paddle. As disgraceful as it was silly. These people were supposed to be educated. They had the grandest library he had ever seen. And they thought that sexual attraction could be redirected by smacking his butt. They also seemed highly unaware of the warrior’s trick to handle pain. If you did not fear pain the body itself could handle it with him doing nothing. It had not taken long before he had not felt the wood hit its mark. He was still psychically punished by it all, but at least they could not get as much as a whimper out of him. The pain came later, in the aftermaths. Now he was in a dark cell with his hands tied behind his back and bottom he could not sit on. Not very comfortable no matter pose. If the floor had not been so damp and dirty he could have lay down on his stomach. Did they hurt him only to transfer their own fear? They could not believe it could do any difference, could they? Not any real difference anyway. They maybe thought they could scare him to stay away from men, but was it only actions that counted? Was it not what he was inside that bothered them? Did it not matter unless they saw it? The gods were supposed to see in the hearts and minds. They cared about the inside. He could never be able to fool a god about his attractions. The priests handled only his outside.

He walked around in his cell trying to keep his hands alive. What would they do next? When would they consider him treated? Would they ever? Perhaps they would keep him here until he died. Would Avia succeed to get him out? He was sure she would try, if there was any chance of success. That was what it meant to be a warrior. Her options to do anything could be limited. The priests were many and he was hidden deep inside the mountain. Another thing to consider was that they could not leave until the water was deep enough. If she burst him out now, they could not flee from Parramattma Parvet for days yet. If he could keep good health for a few days there were still hope. Without experience of being far down in a dungeon without daylight, he figured it could be a problem to keep count on the days. All he could do was hope. Hope and mentally fight back their attacks.

Avia was making a plan. She was going to get Osapi out. If she needed to tear down one of their sacred temples to do it, then so be it. Not only had they taken her apprentice, they had taken him for a reason she could not accept. It was as absurd as arresting her for feeling attracted to her young student. She had been as angry as she had ever been in her life. Then she had turned that energy to focus on planning, putting feelings aside for practical matters. Her main problem was that she could not ask around. Usually her main source of information was from normal people. Here, the normal people were there to pray and pay respects to the gods. And they all seemed to know about her predicament, which made them shy her even more than before. Putt and Jadoog were in the same position, since they belonged to the same party, so they could not ask around either. As a result she had had to find new ways to get the information she needed. While Jadoog taught Putt how to open doors, Avia had found her way back to the library and the helpful librarian. She found it ironic that she had not only been here once but twice to seek what people around her knew but did not want to tell her. It did not take long among the scrolls and books before she had to fight hard to

keep her patience and focus. She had to learn where they were likely to keep Osapi imprisoned. If she could learn what they likely did to him, she could get a clue about how long she had before she had to get him out. And third thing to learn was possible routes to get inside his prison. The exact questions were unknown to the librarian. She did not dare to let him know what she was looking for. That meant she had to search a lot for herself instead of using his expertise. Document after document with hard-to-read handwriting, large chunks of text that merged together before her eyes. She tried to read properly, not to miss anything important, she knew she could, but her eyes and her mind did not cooperate. “It seems to me,” the librarian said at last “that you’re looking for something in particular.” “Isn’t everybody?” “No…” he lingered on the answer. “Most people learn what there is to read, and let it take its time, no matter subject. You, you read in a hurry. To see if what you’re looking for is there, before you go to the next. And I don’t think you want to learn how the major temple was built this time, are you?” The librarian moved closer and she had to fight her first impulse to take a step away to keep him outside her personal sphere. There was a reason for him to cross the line for her comfort zone. Then he spoke with such low voice she barely heard: “You want to know where they keep your protégé, I think.” He seemed to search with his finger in scroll on the table in front of her. It was a confrontation, not a threat. If someone watched them they probably not noted that he spoke at all. She pointed at the text the librarian showed her. At a specific word. ‘Yes.’ The librarian left her and returned with a book. “If you’re interested in the history of our temples, this is where you should start,” he said and placed it on the table in front of her. It was wide and high but not so thick. “In here, every temple built and every deity ever worshiped in this

place are put on record. Old gods as well as new.” He opened the book and browsed ed the first two-three pages. “You can read for yourself about what interests you.” The page left open had a drawing of a cave with fire inside and a headline that said ‘Marka hoorr ugguu weyen’ followed by three signs she did not recognize. Under the image of the temple entrance was text written. By the looks of it the paragraphs were written by different people and, considering the pale ink in the first paragraph compared to the last, it was also written in different points in time. Avia took a look at the first pages the librarian browsed ed and then continued with those behind. Every page described a place of worship on that mountain. The last written on the first two places was a note that the temple was abandoned and no longer active. This ‘Marka hoorr ugguu weyen’ was the oldest active temple there. Others had been built after and been abandoned, but this still remained. The major temple on the plateau was younger by a hundred years or so. The text on the page for the major temple stated they represented the god Maktig who they considered to be the most powerful of all gods and goddesses. It was focused and concise. On the Marka-and-so-on’s page the description was vaguer. It had phrases as ‘first existance’, ‘inner god’ and ‘power through many’. And a comment written by someone that they diverged from the major part of the other faiths.

They had sent a woman into his cell. In the way she approached him, bold and without shame, crossing his personal boundaries, he was pretty certain she was a woman whose services could be bought for money. In front of three priests she kissed him and worked with her hands over his body. Man or woman, this person interfered in his private sphere without permission. He was imprisoned, beaten, bound and humiliated and now this woman? Without the use of his hands he could not push her away. Her hand wandered down to his groin and he dodged with his hips but it was little else he could do. She found her target and worked on him outside the clothes. She gave him a

disappointed look and left without a word. One of the priests pulled down Osapi’s pants enough for the others to see that he had not found her attractive. Would he during the circumstances found anyone attractive enough for it to show as they hoped? What kind of sick test was this? He got his pants pulled back up and the three priests moved to leave. “Please” he begged them. “Untie me, please. Please! I can’t feel my hands any longer.” They exchanged looks and one of them returned and released him from the ropes and left without a word. He felt an intense pain when he at last could move his arms. He looked at his numb hands. They were his but they did no longer obey his commands. They were stiff and frozen in strange poses. He felt his heart beat in terror. What if they were lost for him forever? Even if he did come out of this bizarre demon’s pit, would he ever be able to wield a sword again? He sank to his knees and cried. They would break him. All they had to do was take away his ability to become a warrior. He had to conceal this fright or they would have him begging for mercy.

Chapter Seventeen

Freedom

It had taken quite a while but he had regained his hands. He was so full of joy that when the priests came for him, and tied his hands on his back again, he was not overwhelmed with terror. It would just be another of pain and humiliation. They were so focused on his sexual preferences that it would not cross their minds to chop his fingers off to break him. The ropes were not as tight as the first time. They restrained him, but did not stop the blood from flowing in his hands and arms. At first he had been surprised. He had tightened his muscles to make it harder for them to tie just as hard but it had not been necessary. He was not tied as torment, but as a simple restrain. When he was thrown back in his cell after yet another demeaning treatment the ropes remained on this time as well. Why? Osapi focused on problem solving to keep his mind from the pain in his body. They did not give him anything to eat or drink. If they had and kept his arms tied he would see a reason to it because it would torment and humiliate him. But alone in a cell with nothing to do, and without the need for it to be painful? He could think of only one thing: they wanted to keep him from pleasuring himself. He could not help laughing out loud. Like that was anything he was thinking about locked up in an underground, damp and dark dungeon. He may not come out of this alive but at least he could laugh at his tormentors’ stupidity.

Jadoog sat with three of the priests. Tanilar Saldiris was one of them. The other two had not introduced themselves. He knew this was not out of rudeness. The three priests represented a group of many and their individual names were

therefore considered less important. The only reason he knew one of them was because they had met before. They were priests a bit up in ranking, but they were not of the highest level. Even if he made them agree with him, these priest would not have the power to change anything right away. All they could do was to bring the message to a higher level. It was better than nothing at all. How that message was transfered was also of importance. A man agreeing to what was said, delivered the message different from one who disagreed. “You must agree that what this young man think and does is nothing but perversion,” one of the nameless priests said. Jadoog was not in for discussing what the gods wanted and did not want. He was a wizard. His kind considered priests able to give voice for the gods. “My point in this, your reverences, is that Osapi is not under the wings of your gods.” “An unfaithful that visits the Temples? Why would he do that?” “Osapi is Avia’s apprentice. An apprentice follows his master. You know that.” “But as far as I know,” Tanilar Saldiris remarked, “is Avia an unfaithful, too. Why is she here?” Jadoog had had a vain hope to not get that question, to keep Avia’s reasons out of it. She did risk to be incarcerated too, for other things than Osapi, but still. “My apprentice, Putt, is Avia’s grandson. He wanted his only living family member to follow him on his journey here. He was the one who wanted to come, to seek answers. The boy has had a few troublesome years in his young life.” “Is it not custom to leave your family when you become a wizard’s apprentice?” “I don’t demand it, but since we move around, it’s necessary to be able to leave your family, yes.” “But not your current apprentice?” “He has been my ward for little over a year, without his family. Before that he

lived a warrior’s life with his grandmother and almost saw her killed. Before that he saw his parents die in a bandits’ raid and was taken by the robbers.” “An interesting life.” “That’s one less favorable word, in my opinion,” Jadoog said. Interesting it may be for an outsider, but not so for the child experiencing it. “But no matter that, as you can see, Osapi’s route here was not of his choice and does not make him a member of the worshipers.” “True,” nodded one. “But a pervert is a danger to all, no matter gods.” “Your reverences…” Jadoog begun and took a deep breath before the plunge. “There are many gods and goddesses as you are well aware. But though those you represent think of him as something to be cured, there are other deities who would disagree, who would consider what you do as something terrible.” “That’s not possible! Man and woman are meant for each other. That’s every God’s and Goddess’ law.” “I’m afraid that’s not true,” Jadoog protested. “Pardon me, your reverences, but I’ve traveled to many places in this world, and I’ve learned about many teachings, not much heard of in this part of the world. There are more than one that encourage same-sex relationships.” “That’s prosperous!” burst one of the priests. “Why?” asked the other. “Because man and woman can get children, and if every couple got ten to fifteen children, there would not be food for everyone. But they still consider love and proximity an important part of being human.” The priests were silent. Jadoog knew that many of those serving the gods in the temples had been chosen in such early age that they never in their life experienced physical love. Would they understand what he was saying? Could they accept the rules from another part of the world? “Are you saying this young man is not aware that he does something wrong?”

“I’m saying that where he comes from, it’s something righteous, sanctioned by their gods.” This was a lie. The place as such excised, but Osapi did not come from that area. Jadoog hoped they would not ask him or that Osapi would be quick enough to play along. He hated to lie, but his point remained true. He questioned their right to judge someone who never claimed faith in their gods. The three priests exchanged looks. “We will discuss this further with the other of our cloth.” They rose and left without another word. Jadoog felt as worn rag, tired to the bone.

Avia marched from the library to the square at the bottom of the huge marble staircase and started upwards. She ed the entrance to the temple drawn in the book. They had ed it on their way up to the plateau when they arrived. Putt had stopped there, gawking. She took two steps at the time and once outside the gaping hole she did not hesitate. The horrible opening with its appearance of a monster’s gap and a throat in flames did not frighten her. She drew her sword and walked inside. The cave walls were crude and black, far from the polished sophistication seen in the other temples. The floor was worn by many feet ing. As she walked downward, torches on the walls lit her way. It was not without, Avia wondered if she was about to fight a dragon in there. The age ended abruptly in a sharp turn and she faced a empty hall. Its floor was smooth but not deliberately so. It was uneven in a way that meant it had been shaped by its inhabitants feet, not by tools. In the center of the hall was a round, flat stage, or if was a low table, in stone. Its even surface was carved with a pattern, irregular and abstract, unlike the bold and symmetric decorations she had seen elsewhere in the temples. “Good evening, Master Warrior.” A woman stood in one of the doorways around the hall.

Avia glared at the other. A priestess judged by the clothes. “Are you sent here because you’re a woman or because you have some power to help me?” Avia wanted to know right away. “A high-priestess is not sent by anyone. And if you want help, it’s not a good thing to arrive with a drawn sword. One could even think you’re ready to attack me.” Avia was indeed. It had been a lot of pressure and stress the last days. In those situations Avia tended to be overly ready to fight. She put the sword away. “My apprentice has been taken prisoner by the priests,” Avia begun. “I got indications you could help me.” The priestess mouth changed shape into something that could have been a smile. It felt as stretched out and tense as a string to a bow. “Perhaps.” The priestess studied Avia. “Come.” The woman turned in the opening where she stood and walked away. Avia followed. She placed her hand on her dagger. Since the other woman had her back to her no one could see her and be offended. Besides, it was not a drawn blade. They walked through a network of narrow ages. The woman in front of her was shorter than her. Avia had to duck a little not to scratch her head in the ceiling. The walls had long niches, often one at the floor and one higher up. The air was dry and stale. “What is this place?” “Catacombs.” Avia blinked. Were the niches graves? Then they must have ed hundreds by now. And they ed openings to other aisles probably leading to more tombs. They ed a doorway and entered a room. The floor was covered in mosaic, worn and dirty, a room seldom used. There was a leftover of an altar by the wall. It ended premature and abruptly in a solid wooden door.

“Do you know what happens when someone builds a temple on this rock?” The high-priestess asked. Avia shook her head. “They chisel out a basement under their pompous structure. The more glorious building, the deeper the dungeons.” She pointed at the door. “Sometimes they find someone was there first. Even if they crashed into one of our oldest chapels, they think they can build a door and deny us a key.” The priestess brought out an iron ring with several keys from within her dress. “We pick the lock, refine it and make our own key to fit the modified lock. Which becomes the only key. Always had. No one enters these tombs without our permission.” Avia was full of iration for this woman and her people. “Well done.” “This door leads to the dungeons where they keep your apprentice. I’ll unlock and wait here. I’ll give you the time of a prayer wreath, then I’ll close and lock.” “Why? Why help me?” The priestess pointed at the ruined altar. “We were here first, ergo show our power amuses me.” Avia liked her. “What’s a ‘prayer wreath’?” The high-priestess brought out a string tied to a loop with wooden pearls of different size and shapes. Avia had seen the concept before. Each pearl represented a prayer. She had the time it would take the priestess to pray all the prayers on that loop. Avia had no idea how long they were. She considered asking about it but she would not return without Osapi anyway. “Unlock it, please.” The woman put one of her keys in the lock and opened the door.

It was dark on the other side. Avia searched for light and saw it further down in one direction. She took her chances in the dark and hurried down the age and entered a wider corridor. Torches were placed along the walls and cell doors were in between them. No one was seen anywhere. “Osapi!” she hissed quite loud. No reaction to the sound. She moved down between the cell doors. “Osapi!” Was that a movement behind one of the doors? She halted and listened. Someone was on the other side of the door to her right. “Master?” “I’m here, Osapi!” Avia’s eyes darted around for keys. “Keys?” she whispered. “Do you know where they keep the keys?” It was silent for a moment and then she heard Osapi laugh. “What?” she asked baffled, in her normal voice. “Use your eyes, Master.” Avia took a look at the door for the first time. There was no lock. All that blocked the door was a solid and firm latch. Impossible for Osapi to from the inside, but easy to open for anyone on the outside. Avia pulled it away and flung the door open. Osapi sat on the other side with his hand tied on his back. He was pale but the grin on his face was so wide she did not notice at first. She yanked him to his feet and out in the corridor. Then she closed the door and replaced the latch. “Can you walk like that?” She did not want to spend time on the ropes until they were safe. Osapi nodded and Avia pulled him along back to the secret door. It was still open and they rushed though. The high-priestess closed and locked at once. Osapi stood with his eyes closed, taking shallow breaths, like he was fighting panic. Avia pulled her knife. “I’m going to cut your ropes. Stand still.”

Osapi nodded. The moment he was free of the ropes he sunk to his knees and cried. Avia sat down beside him and hugged him.

Chapter Eighteen

Depth of water

Putt walked up to the major Temple and got inside. Where would they hide a age to the dungeons? Was it here or in one of the minor temples? There were priests everywhere and as a common visitor and a child he was not allowed inside the areas where it was most likely to be a staircase down. “Hold it, young man.” A priest placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from continue behind the giant statue. “My mistake.” Putt bowed his head and turned the other way. He ed other visitors in their worship. When the priest that had halted him had moved and did not look his way he hurried around to the other side to try that way. “Stop, boy.” Another priest halted him this time. This one grabbed his chin and took a look at his face. “You’re Jadoog’s apprentice, are you not?” Putt felt he had grown tired of their superiority. “Yes, I am.” He stared back and did not bother with polite titles. “Let me go.” The priest smirked. “No, I’m not. And you’re not entitled to command me, boy.” “You are not entitled to hold me. Boy!” Putt returned and saw the fury glitter in the other man’s eyes. “I’m a grown man and a priest” he hissed. “You are nothing but a boy. You’re nobody!” “Then why are you holding me?” Putt stared at the priest with a triumphant grin.

He was not sure if he felt or guessed the other’s frustration. If the priest proved him worthless by letting him go, he could not stop him from going where it pleased him. If he kept his grip the priest proved he had been wrong and saw his presence as a hinder or a danger. The priest pushed him away, releasing him. Putt fell to the floor. As to emphasize his lack of care for the boy the priest left without a second look. Putt was on his feet and behind the gigantic idol before anyone else stopped him. Behind the statue he saw no priests. He hurried into the shadows. This part of the temple had hardly any lights. His eyes had not had time to adjust to the darkness when he placed his foot in empty space where the floor should be. Though his foot hit the stone just a blink of an eye later he had to fight not to fall forwards down the staircase he had found. He managed to keep himself on his two feet. For a moment he paused and asked himself if what he was doing was wise. He wanted to free Osapi and he had been practicing on his ability to open doors. It was an art he had not yet learned. To do so he needed skills he had not yet developed. His master must have known it would not be enough time for Putt to learn how in the short time frame they had. Yet he had agreed to teach him. To calm Avia and keep his apprentice occupied. That did not mean it was a good idea to rush down into the main temple’s secret dungeons. It was not even certain it was where they kept Osapi. Putt took a few steps down. His eyes had begun to adjust and he could tell there were lights of some sort at the end of the staircase far below. Turning back was the same as being a coward he figured. Though he was no longer a warrior’s apprentice he was to become a wizard and they were no weaklings either. Putt had just won over a priest. Leaving now and that would be undone and of no use. He continued down the stairs towards the light.

Jadoog did not know where Putt was. Before they arrived to Parramattma Parvet he had known his apprentice whereabouts. Here among the temples he had given him room to make his own discoveries. They were there because Putt had had a need to find answers. It was not a part of the education as a wizard. The area was limited and the inhabitants peaceful. The boy had also showed he could handle

responsibility. So Jadoog was not worried. Since Osapi had been arrested he had had little clue where to find Avia as well. Before that, the master and her apprentice had kept out of the temples and mostly stayed within the dormitory or walked on the road around the mountain. With all his three companions gone, he felt lonely. Abandoned even. Putt had been devoted to learn but since the priests took actions against Osapi the boy had turned against them and their teachings. Jadoog remained on his original standpoint, refusing to fight. He had tried to convince the priests, yes, but he was not prepared to use his powers to set Osapi free. Not that he blamed Avia and Putt for it. He had been working with Putt to teach him to open doors. Magic could not be rushed though and even if it was nothing wrong with the enthusiasm his apprentice had made little progress. Maybe even less than usual. Jadoog had kept these observations to himself and wished for Avia to solve the issue. It would keep him, Putt, and all his fellow wizards out of trouble. After all, they were fighting Gods. Since Osapi did not worship the gods represented here, Jadoog did not believe the young man constituted any danger or had done anything wrong. There were priests who were convinced that everyone not worshiping by their temples were threats. Threats to the society as well as risking to pull down the wraths of the gods on all of them. Jadoog feared those priests. If they were men of power and thought they could use that power on anyone they seemed fit. Any society had rules fit for their needs. Everyone, more or less, agreed that no one could walk from one village to the other and claim the laws of their home village valid and overruling the village’s own. If someone stole something in one place, he would suffer the consequences in one place or the other, depending on agreement between the place where he was caught and the one robbed. Priests thinking their laws applied to everyone broke this deal and claimed the right to rule no matter geography and beliefs. It scared Jadoog. It meant that you did not know what rules that applied. It meant that you could not move from a place with ideas that did not suit you, since the priests no matter where you were could reach you. There were nowhere to hide and nowhere to flee. As a wizard he usually did not get into trouble with priests, but he knew people

in general, felt their thoughts. You needed to find your place in life. If you could not leave a place unfit for you, because you would be deemed unfit everywhere, the frustration could turn to desperation. Desperation could be a destructive force.

“You’ve got to stay here,” the High Priestess commanded. “No,” Osapi heard Avia object. “We’ll leave this rock, right away.” He knew his master well enough. She did not like to be told what to do and the other woman spoke with a voice used to be obeyed. He took a deep breath and collected himself. “Has the water rose yet?” he asked. “Is it deep enough to sail?” He saw in Avia’s eyes she had forgot about that aspect. “No, the waters are not able, yet,” the priestess said. “You have to stay here until you can depart by boat.” Osapi nodded. “Thank you,” he breathed still fighting all mixed emotions rushing through his body. “Thank you. Thank you.” The High Priestess shrugged. Osapi blinked. A shrug? “Why did you help us?” “What does it matter to you? I can tell you any acceptable reason and you may or may not believe it. You will be out of their reach regardless.” Osapi did not care why the priestess helped Avia and him. Not now. Maybe later, but he would probably never understand. “How long until we can leave then?” Avia wanted to know. “Perchance in two days. I will keep you informed.”

“I’ve got to get Putt and Jadoog here as well,” Avia told her as she made herself ready to go. Osapi listened to his master and the priestess. Right then he was convinced it would all work out somehow, that Avia worried too much. He fell asleep, right there on the dirty, mosaic floor.

Avia found Jadoog in their corner in the dormitory, as expected. Though it was late at night he was fully awake and had seen her coming. “Where have you been?” he asked, worried. It was odd. He never asked before and was rarely worried. She then saw that Putt was missing. “Where’s my grandson?” she hissed not to wake anyone. Jadoog grabbed her by the arm and led her out of the house. “I don’t know,” he answered in a low voice, once they were out. She glared at him. “What?” The wizard looked miserable. He had every reason to, facing his apprentice’s warrior grandmother. She closed her eyes. As soon as the priests found out Osapi was gone they would suspect Jadoog and her to be involved. Maybe even Putt. She had to get the two of them out of the way, hidden from sight with Osapi. And now Putt was missing. Nothing but something involuntary would keep him from turning up by his master and grandma at nightfall. If Putt should return on his own, he would wait in the dormitory. At least she had to count on that. “Come!” She grabbed Jadoog and pulled him along. “And keep quiet.” They moved back inside the dormitory and packed their things. Since they stayed in a corner they could do so without disturbing anybody. Carrying packs

for the four of them and Osapi’s weapon too, they hurried the best they could around the mountain and up the grand staircase. Jadoog protested when Avia wanted him to go down into the gaping mouth of the monster. “Are you insane?” “Yes. Or the rest of the world is! Get inside! Now!” Avia shoved into the cave. The High Priestess met them. “This is Jadoog. Take him to my apprentice,” she ordered and pushed Jadoog towards the woman. “Please,” she added. “Thank you, kindly. Putt is missing. I’ve to find him. I’m sorry but I’ve to hurry.” She indicated the packs. “Apology accepted,” the High Priestess answered. “Your belongings are safe here.” Avia unfastened her sword. Bow and knife were weapons for discretion and a sword was clunky and would just be in her way. She handed her sword to Jadoog. “Take care of this for me.” She turned and left. This was something she was good at. It felt like a long time she had to do something she had trained for her whole life. Assassins and warriors had one thing in common: they could disappear in the shadows of the night. They used the darkness for different needs though. Warriors used it to get information. To see things and hear things when people thought no one was close. Her gut instinct told her the priests had something to do with Putt’s disappearance. If there had been an accident, someone would likely had seen it and reported it. Vanish without a trance was not easy with so many people around. Unless someone deliberately wanted you out of the way. After Osapi’s arrest Putt had been hostile towards their hosts in away Avia suspected would not be greeted with kindness. Why would they?

Avia jogged up the giant staircase. Even though the soldier statues guarding the entrance had torches at night it was easy to hide in the shadows. The age was so wide the lights from its borders could not make it all the way to the middle. The statues were also too few to give sufficient light for every step. It surely looked good from a distance but you still needed your own lantern if you walked around at night. Close to the top Avia skipped the stairs and climbed up on the side. It was impossible to the top of any staircase unnoticed if someone was nearby. There was no way you could check if the coast was clear without exposing yourself. It deemed too much luck for Avia’s taste. The plateau was never asleep. It seemed as if most of the temples held their last mass as groups of priests and priestesses were on the move and singing was heard from different directions. Avia scanned for groups with two or three priests. News were spread from mouth to mouth. Things you wanted to keep discreet, like troublesome visitors, you did not spoke about to more than one or maybe two at the time. If Putt was in trouble it was far more likely he was found among the males talking than the females. She saw two priests standing outside of the mass in the main temple. They were close together as if they were talking, between the rows of pillars. Avia took aim at them and hurried as a silent shadow across the open areas. She took a wide turn so she did not right in front of them and could come up from behind. It helped that the moon was just a fraction of what it was when it was full. As she got closer she slowed down. She could hear them but it was just a mumble. One pillar closer and she was just beside them. It could not be helped. Avia moved to the other pillar and hid in its shadow standing just a step away from the priests. They were both young, no older than forty years of age she guessed, the younger of them probably more like thirty. If they turned they could likely see her. “It doesn’t seem as he knows anything about it,” one of the men said. “It can’t be a coincidence” the other insisted. “But why would he go down there if the miserable fagot had already escaped? It makes no sense.”

Avia had heard enough and slid out of plain view back behind a pillar. Would the High Priestess of Marka hoorr ugguu weyen help her again? Not likely. Whatever reason she had for the first time it was not likely to last for a second time. And getting back down there, talk and have to return to the plateau was too risky in many ways. She needed to act now. The older of the two left and returned inside the inner temple and the singing. Avia studied the remaining man for a second. She was used to make quick assessments about her enemies. A necessary skill for survival for a warrior. She pulled her knife and with two quick steps she held it at the priest’s throat and forced his right hand up behind his back. “Not a sound!” she warned him with a whisper in his ear. “Please,” he whimpered. “Shhh! Do as I say and you’ll leave me without a scratch. Do you understand?” The priest bobbed his head just enough for her to notice. “Have you caught a boy today?” A nod again. “Who?” The priest shivered. “Your grandson,” he whispered. “Please, I had noth—” “Shhh! Do you know where he is?” The priest nodded. “Take me to him. Discreetly,” she added. The young man did not move. “Well?” “It’s mass now,” he said sounding miserable. “We need to get behind the idol.” “There’s no other way?” Her captive shook his head. “Then we wait.” She let go of his hand and took a firm grip of his clothing instead and held the tip of her knife at his back. Less eye-catching and more comfortable for both of them. With a firm hand she moved him to the shadows against the wall of the inner temple. “Did you help the infidel to escape?” he asked. “You can’t say his name, can you?” Avia hissed. “Because then you had to accept that he is human, just like you.”

“We will tell the world, you know. About your bastard daughter.” “Oh, please! Who cares about what happened fifty years ago? If she is still alive she might even be a grandmother. I sure don’t care. What have you done with my grandson?” “I don’t know.” Avia reminded him she had a knife. He whimpered. “I’m here with you, not with him. I don’t know.” True. “Rat,” she spat at him. “It’s Caelm,” he said. “My name’s Caelm.” She blinked and then smiled. He wanted to force her to accept him as a human. “Caelm, my name’s Avia. Nice try, but I’m a warrior. That means I can look you in the eye and still kill you if I need to. I won’t enjoy it but I will if I must. So, Caelm, are your friends in there done singing any time soon?”

As soon as the mass was over took Caelm Avia inside the inner temple. As it was the last service for the day most lights had been put out and the only priests were on guard outside. They walked down a long staircase to the underground and she understood how the door in the other temple could lead to the dungeons of this temple. Caelm stopped outside a wooden door with a small opening. Voices were heard from inside and someone was crying. “Tell us, and the pain will stop,” a man’s voice said. “I don’t know,” a child sobbed. That child was Putt. “You don’t want to sit like this all night, do you?” Avia considered what to do. She could not afford to be followed. No one could

see her leave. She scanned down the corridor. There were similar doors to the one where Putt was, but it was dark and silent behind the openings. Avia did not think they were occupied. Osapi had been in another type of cell, further down the mountain. These rooms were probably for questioning, not for long time storage of prisoners. She took Caelm further down the hallway and pushed one of the doors open. In the darkness she saw she had been right about the use of the cells. There were a bench in the middle of the room and on the walls hung ropes and whips. Avia wanted to say a lot about what she saw but kept her mouth shut and grabbed a rope. “Hands behind your back,” she ordered and he obeyed. When she had tied his hands she gagged him and helped him to sit down on the floor before she tied his legs. He would probably get an uncomfortable night, but he would live. His fellows in Putt’s cell would not. She left Caelm and closed the door. Nothing had changed when she was gone. The corridor was still empty and Putt was still crying. She strung the bow and pulled an arrow from the quiver. A glance through the peep hole and she had her target. The arrow pierced the man’s brain without him even knowing what happened to him. Some ran towards the door. Avia put an arrow in his throat. “Putt? Are there more of them?” she called out without looking through the opening. At first she heard nothing but a loud breathing. Then: “No. You got them.” She dared to look inside and Putt was sitting alone, tied to a chair. No one was threatening him. She pushed the door, but it did not open. “It’s locked,” Putt sobbed. “From inside. It’s locked, it’s locked,” he whaled. “Putt, focus! What kind of lock is it?” She got no reply. “Focus! You know how to focus. You’re a wizard, Putt!” “It’s a sprint. You’ve to lift the tab and pull the sprint.”

Avia put her arm through the hole and searched downward. Putt guided her and soon she felt metal under her fingers. She found the sprint and it could not be moved. “There’s a tab. You need to turn the sprint,” Putt instructed. Avia found it and turned, then pulled. It was a simple lock but not easy to open from the outside. She burst into the room, pulled her knife and cut Putt free. “We got to leave, right now.” Avia did not leave room for any cosy reunion at that very moment. Those things had to be dealt with later. All they could allow themselves to think about were to get out. Putt rose from the chair. He swayed. Avia got scared that the boy would not be able to walk, even less run. “Do you feel your feet?” she asked. The boy nodded. “Pain?” “I can run.” He sounded sure of himself. “Good. Lets.” Then they ran out from the cell and up the stairs into the inner temple. Avia guided Putt along in the shadows, saw where the guards were and reached the staircase without being seen. The rest down to the mysterious cave temple was easy.

Chapter Nineteen

Devine help

People probably searched for them. The High Priestess had assured them no one would find them. Putt knew they were deep inside the mountain among thousands of graves. It did not bother him. He was not as comfortable with the knowledge that none of them would find their way out of there without help. No one but the priests and priestess of this temple dared to venture inside the catacombs. Hence the assurance of the High Priestess. They got food, blankets and candles. They had everything they needed to stay alive. Though the air was stale it was not hazardous. At least so they said and he had to it he could breath and felt fine. Deep down, away from the sky he had no idea how much time had ed. What was worse was that it felt like all his magic skills were lost too. He could not focus. It was as if his mind went wild in the catacombs. His master said he just did not like the situation being confined to a small space. His whole mind worked to get out and left little room for magic. His granny told him he could keep count of time with his hunger and bowel movements, like it was something everyone kept a daily track of. The High Priestess gave him a prayer wreath to help him keep track of time and keep himself occupied. She explained that each pearl on the string represented a prayer. You started and the cube-shaped pearl, worked your way through all pearls until you found the cube-shaped again. Every prayer had their own shape and texture so you did not need to look which prayer to say. Putt asked what he could say if he did not want to pray. “You wish to leave these catacombs and Parramattma Parvet,” the High Priestess replied. It had not been a question. “Say what you consider is needed to get the aid you want to achieve it.”

“So, if I want you to help us, I shall say ‘High Priestess help us out’?” Putt had asked. “Maybe. Or maybe you should consider if there are powers greater than mine you should ask instead.” Putt had snorted at this. The woman had grabbed his chin. “ I belong to a temple too, boy. My God is aiding you. If that is worth something to you, maybe you should show it.” She let him go. “Or just say what you want to stay sane. It is up to you.” Once, a year ago, his grandmother had whipped him as punishment. Then she had been his master and he a warrior’s apprentice. It had been a short visit in a world she thought of as natural. It had been painful. The episode with the priests had been something else. Putt had been a captive. He had been captured and tied to a chair. He had not been able to leave and he would stay tied and tortured until he told them what they wanted to hear. His granny’s punishment had been short and all he had to do was to wait until it was over. He was not even tied. He watched Osapi. He had been locked up for many days. What had he been through? It had likely been more painful and frightening than his hours as prisoner. Still Osapi seemed to be himself. It was hard to tell though since they were inside a catacomb with little on their hands. He was quiet but so were all of them. They relaxed and waited. It seemed as he was the only one eager to get out and see the sky again. He fiddled with the pearls. It felt as gods had had their saying in his life and he was fed up with their doings. “Do you hate me?” he asked Osapi. There was silence. Putt raised his eyes and saw everyone looking at him. He had not addressed who he was talking to. He met the eyes of the young man. “Osapi, do you hate me?” he clarified. “No. Why should I?” “I forced you to come here.”

“You didn’t lock me up and you could not foresee that they would. Don’t worry, Putt. I don’t hate you.” “Putt, none of this is your fault,” Jadoog assured him. “Except for you snooping around in the dungeons,” his granny added. “That was foolish.” “I wanted to find out where they held Osapi.” Now he knew it had been a fool’s errand. Then it had felt less idiotic. “They still had no right to do what they did to you,” his master insisted. “That’s the problem with this whole story isn’t it,” Avia sighed. “Everyone thinks they are entitled to do things to others, that those affected don’t.”

When the woman who saved them came for them, Osapi thought they must have spent about four days in the catacombs. He knew she was the High Priestess, but he could not manage to trust her if he looked upon her as that. The Gods’ servants had done too much damage to him. One single act of kindness did not erase those impressions. They left the narrow tunnels, ed the entrance hall and continued outside and met the dark sky speckled with stars. For the first time he saw with his own eyes which temple that had harbored him. He did not care though. What mattered to him was to get out and away from that rock as soon as possible. When the cool air of the night hit his face he felt invincible. He had wondered what it would feel like, wondered how he would react. If he would cry or not. The warrior’s apprentice was not close to crying. If anything, he wanted to claim his victory over this place and scream at the top of his lungs that he had won. There had been times in his life when he had asked himself if he was worthy of becoming a warrior. This night he knew he was. He had been beaten and humiliated and he had walked out of there angrier and stronger than ever. They had tried to rob him of who he was. All they managed to do was to make him more convinced of his and everybody’s right to keep the matter of love only

between the ones attracted to each other. He was a warrior and now he had something to fight as well as something to fight for.

Avia was not good at showing gratitude. She was too used to hide her emotions to give a good impression that she cared and put the right emphasis on the ‘thank you’. When the four of them was about to step into the boat provided them and it was time for goodbyes Avia made her best to express how grateful she was. In her own ears she sounded awkward and stiff but the High Priestess did not appear to notice. Perhaps she had no need for others’ gratitude. In either case they were about to leave and would not likely see each other again. Her three companions had stepped into the dory when the High Priestess took hold of her arm. “I am aware that this journey became a tragedy for you and your party,” she said. “I will never defend what the pompous priests did to your apprentice and your grandson. But I pray that you understand that there are more to this place and to the divine in the world than you have experienced.” Avia went cold and merciless. “Keep on praying if you like, but it’ll be in vain,” she snapped. “Then all I can do is wish you good health and long lives,” the woman returned without any aggression. “I wish you the same,” Avia muttered and got into the flat-bottomed boat and arranged the oars. The High Priestess smiled and waved. The other three waved back and Avia thought it just as well. This singular person had helped them and probably saved their lives. She pushed towards the dock to get some free space for the oars and then she begun to row. They sat in silence. All that was heard was her steady dipping and lifting of the oars. There were no landmarks to use as a guide but it did not matter. They had the stars. Putt was behind her in the prow. She watched Jadoog and Osapi. Time

would tell if her apprentice had been broken or not, but her gut told her he had survived and even grown. She hoped he was not guided by hate now because in her opinion it made you narrow-minded. Jadoog, he must have had quite a shock. He had had less trouble than the others but it did not mean that he was unharmed. He had traveled there in good faith that it would be rewarding and educating for his apprentice. It sure had, but not in the way he intended. Avia knew Putt adored his master and she hoped both would be fine in time. Jadoog’s eyes turned down from the sky and met hers. It was spooky. “We’ll manage,” he told her and added a smile. She nodded. They probably would. They reached the first village on pillars sometime in the early morning. They took a short break buying supplies from a seller who just awoken. The water had climbed up the pillars but they still had to use one of the ladders to reach the platform. When they returned to the dory Osapi took the oars. Avia leaned back and enjoyed his muscles at work, in more than one way. When the sun rose she was reminded of how flat water was and why she did not fancy going by boat. It was little to see but a straight horizon. How she longed to the mountains and minding her own business. Hers and Osapi’s. She felt drained. It was not until now she could it it. After a few weeks of solitude, maybe sending Osapi on a detour for a few days, and she would be restored. Her eyes wandered ahead and scanned for an end of the water. It felt like she would go grumpy and restless if she had to stay in this little floating thing much longer. Before the sun set they reached dry land and they made camp by the shore. Not much was said. There were no hostility between them. It was more like they all waited for the moment where the two pairs could go separate ways and life return to normal. In the morning Jadoog made his tea for everyone, as he used to, but they all had an urge to get moving. They packed while they waited for the water to cool enough to drink, unlike any other mornings they had. Even Jadoog was ready to leave before he had finished his tea. They stood with their mugs in silence, watching the sunrise.

They walked north through the forest, keeping off the roads. Avia was tired of other people’s ideas of how to behave and what to do. It was time to live outside of civilization for a while. Another reason, which Avia was less willing to it, was that they had fled from the temples. It was not likely, but the priests could send people to catch them. She was not one who fled. If someone had an issue with her she stood her ground and dealt with it. This time it was not a realistic option to do so. A whole society was against her. And not only her, but her apprentice as well. She had put Osapi in grave danger and it would not be easy to forgive herself for making such move. As a warrior she had always been an outcast and both she and Osapi was well aware of it. An outcast had in general a function in any society, even if most did not want to talk about it. There were always things needed to be done that were outside of what was expected and accepted. Assassins killed people for money. Warriors were honorably when they defended and protected, but they did so for money, not loyalty. Still, there were people willing to pay for their services and they fulfilled a need. The sociality they just left – the Temples – did not have a need for people like assassins and warriors. When they had no need for outcasts, it was like they considered themselves belonging to a higher, better society. One with the right to act on others, outside of their community. With that attitude came a liability since it was difficult for outsiders to foresee what they were about to do. It meant they could be followed and killed, just as much as they would never hear from them ever again and there was nothing more to worry about. Avia did not want to take any chances, not with Putt still around. If the priests came for them, they would likely come for her and Osapi, not for a wizard and his young apprentice. Jaddoog had not committed any crimes as far as Avia knew, and Putt had only tresed, while Avia had killed two of them and freed a prisoner of theirs twice. That would be considered a crime in most places. And then the old story of her daughter before she was married. It was something many frowned upon. But it was so long ago that it felt like useless news. Would

people still care? Where was she now in the eyes of the world? From her own point of view she had done the right thing, freeing both Osapi and Putt, to the cost of two lives. Leaving any of them captured and she would not have peace of mind. But her view of the situation rarely matched how others saw it. There was more reasons than her physical adeptness that made her a good warrior. Her attitude towards the rest of society helped. Never the less, she needed missions to get money from time to time. If people considered her an outlaw the chances for payment was slim. Well, she had been through worse.

Chapter Twenty

Rumors

When they sat by the campfire that night, a day after their escape, Jadoog made small talk and asked how they felt. Avia frowned and Jadoog noticed. He gazed at her. “Avia, with all due respect, but I think it’s time for me and Putt to leave again.” This came as no surprise to her. She saw the eagerness in her grandson’s eyes. He wanted back to what was a normal life for him with his master. She nodded. “I don’t think they’ll come after you. You’ll be safer on your own.” “Will you be safe, granny?” Putt asked. “I’m a warrior, Putt,” she replied and saw the answer was not accepted. “I’ll be far safer when it’s just me and Osapi, than with you two guys. It’s easer to just have to defend yourself.” The boy might not be too happy to hear it, but it was honest. She loved her grandson. Nevertheless, it was time for her to be alone. Or at least keep the company to Osapi only. She needed desperately to find the solitude in the mountains again. It was an urge she was not ashamed of. It was a genuine part of her. It was who she was. Some enjoyed to chat with everyone and stay among people, some sought the opposite. People were different and that was the way it was supposed to be. Avia watched the sparks from the fire rise towards the sky with the warm air.

It was time for goodbyes. Putt hugged his grandmother as if they would never see each other again. They had not decided for a time and place to meet, as last time. Regular meetings were not part of how it worked. When one became an apprentice the master took the responsibility away from parents and grandmothers. In most cases it was not that difficult to by the home village and say hello. In Putt's case his only living relative was on the move just as he. There were no natural ways to meet. The next time would either be by accident or because one of them had searched for the other. It could very well be the last time they saw each other. Putt felt like a bad grandson. He preferred his master before his grandma. All his life he had adored his granny. When he became an orphan he had followed her on her journey across the mountains. Then he learned what her life was really like. It was not a life he was meant for but he had still ired his grandmother. Now he was not that sure. She had saved him when he was tied to a chair by some priests, yes. But she had killed the two men in the room questioning him. She had put arrows in them without mercy or warning. The sounds from the dying men haunted him. They had had quick deaths but even if they had died the moment her arrow had reached them the blood, the smell and the mutilated bodies would still remain. Maybe it had been a necessary move to save him. Putt wanted to live and be free. Perhaps he could accept his grandmother's way of saving him. But not once had she checked with him how he felt about it, if the blood splattered before his eyes frightened him. It bothered him. It felt like she did not care. Perhaps she was so used to violence for her to consider if he looked upon it the same way. For Putt, the reason did not matter much. She had not asked if he was alright. Jadoog knew he was not, because his master could read his aura. It was unfair to compare Jadoog's care for him with Avia's. Still it was hard to grasp how a grandmother could not to ask. Even if she knew he was his master's responsibility and not hers, checking upon his mental health could do no harm. It was not without terror Putt was thinking he would not miss his dear grandmother as much as he thought he would. His parents were forever cocooned as fond and loving memories. In time they

would likely fade but nothing would change his impression of them. Avia had not been as lucky. She had shown him things he wished he never had to face. Jadoog had told him there were no such thing as a bad memory, though the experience might be unpleasant. All the things a person did in life and the people crossing once path not only shaped him but opened up for new opportunities and skills. Putt understood that in theory. It was logic in it but his heart disagreed. He would have been perfectly happy growing up as a farmer in his home village. He would have been content without the experience of having a man’s blood splashed in his face. But maybe happiness was not the major goal in life? Or maybe true happiness could only be found with experience of many negative things? Putt shook it off. He felt his master's hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?" Putt nodded. He was.

Avia watched Putt and Jadoog walk away. “So, what now?” Osapi asked. “Jamil?” Avia asked in return. She needed to know what plans he had when it came to family issues. Osapi shook his head. “It wasn’t meant to last. When it was a secret…” He lost his words and seemed ashamed. “You don’t need to explain” Avia assured him. “I’ve had secret relationships too. I tell you about it some day,” she added when Osapi stared at her. “I thought you were born old and wise,” Osapi joked. She smiled. “No…” What would she have been if she had? She would not have had a child

in secrecy. She would not have known what chains felt like. Nor a whip across her back. Things unpleasant, absolutely. But she experienced them. And it shaped her. “How much about it is known?” Osapi asked and Avia jumped and wondered if she had said something aloud. “What do you mean?” “If the priests don’t come after us for a fight, they’ll destroy your reputation if they can.” Osapi seemed worried about this. “They’ll dig up any secrets.” She considered. “As you said, I wasn’t born wise. There’s a lot to find if it amuses them. I’ll still be the same warrior.” “Will everybody think that?” Avia shrugged. She did not care. “Are you sure about that attitude, Master? what you did to Oon Barsate?” She considered. “Yes, the priests can do damage to me. And they probably will. But life goes on, Osapi. I’ll get back. And so will you.” “I’d rather see that they kept quiet about… things,” Osapi said. “About you loving men? Why?” Her apprentice stared at her. “Because—” “If you keep quiet about it, you just confirm their idea that it’s something abnormal. Besides, if you tell first, they have nothing.” “It’s not that easy, Master.”

So what? Who said it would be? But it was his life and his choice. There were things she had preferred to keep private in his age too. “Time to meet the mountains. I’ve had enough of stupidity and people in general for quite awhile.” They would not be there yet for days but it did not matter. She knew the mountains would be there. Mountains were solid and eternal and full of solitude.

THE END

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I was an early writer and enjoys trying out new formats and way to express myself in text. Apart from novels, I also have got several scripts produced into short films and won a scriptwriting contest.

She has also written:

Caged Warrior – Avia, the warrior, part 1

The Recreators

Quickfinger – L.A. Stories, part 1

Escape Room Game – L.A. Stories, part 2

Sunlight

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PEEK INTO The Recreators

For the last six hundred years, the impressive edifice was the first thing that met the sun each morning. Lahall's castle swept the mountain in a web of bridges, ages, stairs, towers, and houses. At a distance, it looked like one huge building, a gigantic palace, rather than something built around a mountain. Even up close, when the road began to wriggle up between the towers and under bridges, it was hard not to be fascinated. How did the towers even get there? They sat like growths on the steep mountain – all with a system of stairways and bridges, carved or masonry, which led to other equally breathtakingly placed parts of the castle. On top of the mountain rested the largest and most famous of them all: the citadel. The citadel was built of glazed brick and shone like a blazing fire on the mountaintop in the early sunlight. It was not only a focal point, and a stunning sight at dawn, but also the center of castle life. Here you could find the great hall used for celebrations and audiences, and the kitchen which was an obvious point of attraction for all those who earned their living serving the court. Below the castle and its mountain, the city of Lahall spread out like a quilt of houses, still slumbering in the morning mist. The city had emerged along the road to the castle as a result of the court's constant need of goods – and therefore merchants – and the many people who went there to see the mighty castle to find work or request an audience with the regent. In the beginning, the city had only grown in length, but with time also in the width. The road no longer ed through the city center. Wooden houses had been built and later replaced, one by one, by new houses in stone as richer owners began to move in. The building style had changed over the years which has led to a patchwork of different kinds of homes and left a few streets straight. At the square came a few sleepy townspeople to fetch the day's first water at the city's main well. In the capital, the evidence from the bad harvests was not yet obvious. The food had become more expensive, but there were enough resources in circulation to keep most people happy without grumbling. The problems that kept the King

and hungry peasants out in the country awake at night were not yet their concern. On the ground floor of one of the castle's many towers, Filia stepped out of bed with a yawn. Dawn sent the day's first light through the narrow window's jagged glass, but Filia shut the view with dark curtains that left the room in gray twilight. The transformation into a gloomy and sinister place was just what she wanted. It was a home that suited her and the role she had at court. Few would have believed her to be only seventeen. It was simply not possible for someone so young to hold a position near the King – and with such influence and importance, too. It was unlikely that anyone with so few years could possess the abilities that she claimed to have. But no one dared to ask her about her age. If anyone would venture to start a conversation with her, it was never about who she was or how she got there. Filia herself nursed the mystery surrounding her person with great care. Although she tried to create a picture that showed otherwise, she was still a human being, and it meant that she had to shave her head and her eyebrows every morning to remove the straws which ventured out since the morning before. She kept her bald head out of the sunlight, and her pallor increased the feeling of unnaturalness. Besides the two tattooed serpents which twisted themselves up along the neck and up over each cheek, she had a third snake climbing over the back of her neck and across her head and to the front of her forehead where it opened its mouth, ready for a deadly blow. Its tongue ended on the tip of her nose. Filia had done everything possible to give a feeling of discomfort to everyone who saw her. Filia lit candles by the mirror and began to enhance the whiteness of her pale skin with makeup. The head, neck, hands – anything that could not be concealed by clothing. Her mouth looked like a thin line drawn onto her face, without any impression of lips. Filia had just pulled a long black robe over her head when someone knocked on the door. She delayed her response. She was not ready to meet anyone yet. "It's the Goddess of beauty," a voice announced on the other side of the door. Filia opened and let Turpa in. Turpa was an unusually short woman with a face like a half-eaten apple that someone tossed in the compost. She was dressed like a buffoon in clothing with bright colors and that was of an unusual fit. Turpa was

the court fool and had been there for at least twenty years. Turpa made a formal bow in front of Filia with a large measure of satire embodied. "Good morning, the all-powerful ruler of darkness." With a stiff smile, Filia returned to the mirror and began to put translucent jelly on her tattooed snakes. "Anything new?" she asked. "His Fartness is still asleep," Turpa replied while she climbed up on the table and began to juggle three balls. "Want to see my new trick for the almighty whoopee scrotum?" Filia turned around to see. For a fraction of a second Turpa kept two of the balls like a pair of breasts in front of her. Then she continued to juggle as usual for a while before she again held two balls in front of her for a brief moment, only to shortly after that continue to juggle as nothing had happened. Filia returned to the mirror with a shrug. "The balls are too small. Moreover, you can do it naked, and the King will still not see what you want him to see." Turpa's face hardened. She threw one of her balls as a projectile against Filia's back. Too fast for the eye to perceive Filia spun around and caught it. She met Turpa's gaze glowing with anger and bitterness and regretted that she had not been more tactful. "You know it's true." "I don't need your truths," Turpa spat as she grabbed the ball from Filia and strode out of the room. Filia rarely asked for forgiveness, and she felt no reason to do so in this case either. She had not said anything she could not be ed for, but she often had to remind herself that most people did not want the truth served abruptly, but well decorated and camouflaged on a silver platter. In her role, there was no problem with the undeniable facts, but Turpa was different. Filia had difficulties

grasping how anyone could devote so much of her life to nurture an inherent bitterness and treat herself as a victim of circumstances. But she felt a certain tenderness and respect for Turpa. She was almost as familiar with her as she could get. Filia swept a long, wide, black cloak around her and pulled the hood over her head. Satisfied, she contemplated her image in the mirror. The gel had the snakes gleaming menacingly under the hood where she hid the greater part of her face in mystical obscurity. She was a perfect picture of an unmentionable dark force. With confidence beyond one seventeen-year-old, she left the room as a cold, unpleasant chill running down the spine embodied. She locked the door behind her.

Crown Prince Idónnes walked with long strides through one of the many ages along the hill towards the tower which was the King's residence. He was well-groomed and perfectly dressed like a doll. A royal pup without the slightest flaw. He was barely eighteen and looked alarmingly boyish given the role awaiting him. His eyes, however, revealed more experience and knowledge than the soft features of his face. There had not been a day in his life where he had not been reminded of his future responsibilities and obligations. The duties that came with the role had become clearer with each ing year. The age swung out from the mountainside and became a bridge where the steep slope disappeared below him. The covered bridge had many large windows. The view was impressive, but Idónnes' interests lay in front of him. The bridge ended in a hall, three floors up in a tower. Much like Filia's room, the King's residence was in one of the towers which clung to the mountainside. Most of the people who lived in the castle had their homes in the towers, but few were privileged to have a whole floor to themselves. The King had, naturally, a full tower for his . Idónnes marched up to the guard who stood the outside of the King's chambers. "Don't say he's still asleep."

The guard shrugged in an apologetic gesture to show that he did not know and had no reason to know what was going on behind the closed door he was guarding. Idónnes slammed his fist into the door's polished wood. "Father?" There was no answer. Idónnes opened the door and strode into the King's upper chamber and continued down the stairs to the royal bedroom. Idónnes found his father entangled in the sheets, snoring in his bed. He shook the royal shoulder. "Father!" King Antes blinked and woke up. "Who died?" "The Council, Father. You called on them, ? They wait for you." Despite his forty-two years, he was still relatively young, and his hair had not yet begun to shift to gray. He was far more unmovable and looser in his flesh than several others at the court who were both ten and twenty years older. Getting out of bed took its time. Antes had been crowned King at twenty-two when his father died. Three years later, his mother had ed away. To rule the kingdom had not given him time for sadness, but an awareness of the constant presence of death. This experience had, in turn, imprinted an attitude to life which meant he took advantage of what life had to offer as much as he could. "I dreamt about your mother," the King reproached his son and ruffled with his hands in his hair in an attempt to wake up. "So it was Mother this time," Idónnes grumbled. He did not live in the illusion that his parents had had a happy, monogamous relationship. Like so many royal marriages it had been arranged without any of the parties' actual consent. "She was a lovely woman," King Antes said dreamily. "When she was young. A genuine sweet for a man's soul."

"Come, father. Put your clothes on. Please." "Yes, yes, yes. I'm coming. I'll be at the meeting. You go ahead. Start the meeting for me." King Antes was at least awake enough to see the doubt in his son's eyes. "I'll get there. All in due time. Don't worry." He waved his hand to shoo him off. Idónnes felt that when his father would finally emerge, the meeting time would be long gone. He left the tower with a new duty on his shoulders.

To move between the different locations of the castle took its time. There were many stairs and ages, and over the years the kings and queens had extended the castle, which led to an already complicated network transforming into a labyrinth. Most of its residents had the citadel at the top as a reference, and once there, they took out a new course to get where they were going. Despite the unobstructed views to locate where you were, it was far from tempting for most to find shortcuts around rather than walking up and down the mountain. Filia was one of the few who knew every age and staircase. She did not hesitate to choose the less lit paths and steep, narrow stairs to the benefit of the wider streets. She was one of the few who used the bridge between the tower she lived in, and the King's. Filia saw Idónnes leave the King's chambers from where she waited in the shadows. She caught up with him without a sound. "Was His Majesty still asleep?" Idónnes jumped at her sudden appearance. "I have to open the meeting," he summed up the situation and continued to hurry over the bridge and up the stairs on the other side. Filia followed him, one step behind, as any faithful servant would. Although she knew she had considerable influence, Filia was extremely careful to prove herself loyal to those she served. The moment the King or the Crown Prince saw her as a threat to their own power, she knew she would be annihilated, or even killed. After her arrival at the court, the King had had no need of an assassin – which most saw as a blessing – but she was convinced that if the King felt the

need, one would be called for. In front of her, Idónnes' confident feet slowed down. He looked around as if to be certain they were alone. "Do you know what the meeting is about?" He asked her with palpable desperation in his voice. "Stay calm, my prince. I can tell you what you need to know." A thin smile eluded Filia. She was careful with her facial expressions. She was not a charming young woman, let alone a sweet girl. Moreover, she had noted that her seemingly lip-less face could undoubtedly make her smile appear as mockery. It could be useful in the right context, but that expression towards the King or the Crown Prince was not to be regarded as such. Idónnes appeared only relieved. The King had a Council consisting of representatives from the six duchies in the country, and one from Lahall. They were elected by the people in their respective areas but without their duke's impact. They were ordinary people with ordinary jobs and represented the people who lived in the country. Seven was by means many, but the King was a practical and economically-minded man. He wanted them to be called together without having to have more than one tower available for the ' accommodation needs. The Council's tower had seven bedrooms in addition to the Council Room. Had it been a larger council, the King would have to expand. The Council had no decision-making function. They were there only as advisers and the King never gave them the illusion of anything else. The King alone made the decisions. To an outsider, the Council might seem unnecessary, but King Antes did his best to be ed as an excellent monarch. He wanted to hear what troubled the people as unfiltered as possible. One king before him had also given the Council the option to take decisions in some matters, but that had not been a good move. With the decision also followed liability. By taking responsibility for every decision, none of his Council suffered from reprisals or pressure, whether from their peers or from the local ruling dukes. If one of his dukes became displeased by a decision, it led nowhere to exercise their power over a Council member. The system had been around for generations – apart from the short period where they had extended powers – and former could testify that at that point

it was no risk participating. In contrast, the man or woman chosen had to drop what they were doing on short notice to come to the castle. For all but Múllirem who was elected by Lahall, this meant that the trip only to get there meant at least a day away from work, a bit longer for two of them. How long they would have to stay was often uncertain. Even if they were paid for the work they had not been able to do at home, it was still troubling for many to be away from their business at home, which made many to to commit themselves. Now all seven sat there in the uncomfortable chairs in the tower's upper room where they waited. Many of them had arrived late the night before, and they all had to get up early to be ready. The King, however, seemed to use lie-ins nowadays. When a servant appeared with water and dried fruit, they understood without exchanging any words that the wait would be long this time. They got up and provided themselves with refreshments, but had to hurry back to their seats when the Crown Prince came upstairs. He welcomed them while he went up to his place beside the King's empty throne. Behind him, slid the black demon, just as she used to when the King arrived. She stood just behind Idónnes' chair. He was the next in line; the demon knew how to remind everyone present of the fact. "The King will be here momentarily," declared Idónnes with a voice that cried out disbelief. "He asked me to open the meeting in the meantime." Idónnes looked down at his hands. He knew he had all Council ' eyes upon him. He was also intensely aware that this was the future awaiting him. Somewhere within, he hoped to find the strength needed to cope. "Proles!" The young man jumped when the Crown Prince stated his name. He was yanked from his thoughts on where the tattooed snakes could start on her body and what he had seen with his mind's eye had been inspiring. He was the youngest of the Council but still almost ten years older than Idónnes. "Yes, my prince," he replied and landed with a nasty thud into reality. He sensed what was coming next. "What happened to the money?"

The question was more direct than he had wished for. A loosely sustained response would not work. Proles wanted nothing more than to be in a different place. Proles had received a large sum of money to find out what they could do about the declining harvests, including traveling to a neighboring kingdom across the waters and learn from them. "We were robbed," he started his well-rehearsed story. "The money was stolen." He began to stutter and stumble on the words when he saw the black demon approach him and lost his cue completely when she stopped in front of him. He looked up in her face under the dark hood and knew at once that everything he heard about her was true; she actually could read his mind. "He's lying. He wasn't robbed." "What happened?" "He was fooled on Hadria. A faker sold him a miracle cure to get better growth. It turned out that he came home with the boat full of ordinary sand." The demon left Proles and returned to her place. "Thank you. It was sad news." Proles sat like a rag doll thrown upon his chair, his face red from embarrassment and shame. He felt like an idiot. He had gone for the bluff with sand and became exposed as a liar in front of others. He felt a nascent hatred for the black-clad creature who, with such ease, went into his mind. He had been forced to expose himself to her and had felt how something that could best be described as a giant, shadowy finger browsed around among his thoughts. He had felt utterly naked. But she had done more than that. She had seen his desire for this mysterious, fascinating woman – herself – but had not given him anything in exchange. She knew his innermost thoughts, his desires to have her, but refused to give him so much as a glimpse of herself to him. On the contrary, he rather felt an icy chill as an answer. The woman of his most private, secret, sensual dreams had rejected him. King Antes came stumbling up the stairs, unkempt with yesterday's stubble still in his face. All rose while the King crossed the room. When he dropped down on his throne, they returned to their seats. They all waited for the King to take the

command, but nothing more happened than his eyes focused on Múllirem. She was the only woman on the Council. Múllirem wrapped her shawl tighter around her in an attempt to shut out the King's hungry eyes. Before the situation became too awkward Idónnes took command again. "Father, Proles has wasted money intended for increasing our harvests." An uncomfortable silence followed when Antes continued to undress her with his eyes. She fought to ignore him. It did not help when everyone in the room was aware of his stare. "Father?" Idónnes voice was bordering on too hard in front of the audience. "My dear lady Múllirem," the King exclaimed. "Surely you want to add your motherly care to our fields?" Múllirem felt a knot tie itself in her belly. Everyone knew the King was not only fond of women but also changed his affections often. While others would have been content with one or two mistresses the castle had instead been depopulated of all women who were not interested in a short-term, intimate relationship with the country's ruler, or too ugly or too old to fall upon royal interest. Múllirem was certainly both unmarried and childless, but she had no plans to satisfy the King's lusts. She met his gaze without swaying. "No, Your Majesty." "Pardon?" spat King Antes with a hastily stirred anger. "My sister is sick. I care for her four small children now." The King stared at her like a lion ready to attack. "Since when do you have a sister?" he asked with scorn in his voice. Múllirem's heart sank when she saw the King waving his black incubus towards her. The dark figure stopped in front of her and Múllirem closed her eyes as she felt the terrible finger poking around in there. It was not just the horrific realization that there really was someone who could read your thoughts. It was

equally obvious that her lie was read like an open book by the demon. She braced herself for the humiliation, but she would never share the King's bed, no matter what. "She speaks the truth." Múllirem was not sure she heard it right. She looked up at the expressionless face in front of her. "Her sister will be sick for a long time." She searched for some kind of human in the shadows but found no response at all. The demon turned away from her. "I suggest Vetes or Vender instead, Your Majesty. Both are experienced enough." Filia took her position as a black shadow again behind the King and the Crown Prince. She threw a quick glance at Múllirem and saw she had recovered. Had the cow continued to stare that way the King would have been able to smell a rat. It was a big risk she had taken when she ed Múllirem's lie. Too big. She cursed herself that she had lied. The lie in and of itself was not a problem for her – she would not get far if she could not lie – but because Filia risked so much of what she had built up for something unimportant. Whatever Múllirem thought about it, she had not lied to protect her, but for Filia's own pleasure. The way the King treated women was not worth more than contempt, according to Filia. Not herself or Turpa, of course, because he did not see them as women in the first place, but all the other more ordinary women. To not give the King an excuse to get close to Múllirem was to punish him, not protect the woman who was the goal of the day for his desires. Filia bit her tongue in frustration that she had not been able to refrain from vengeance. What would she be worth in the eyes of the King if he could not trust that she truly expressed what she saw? Was it worth the risk because she could not tolerate that the King was an old lecher? No. No, no, no. She had grander plans than that. King Antes' thoughts were elsewhere, too distracted to note Múllirem's moment of complete surprise. If Idónnes had noticed something he kept it to himself.

"Well. Vender, solve it," the King commanded. Vender was a knowledgeable and demanding merchant who traveled to all parts of the world. But when his children began to grow up, he felt he could, and did, hand more and more of the responsibility of the business over to them. Filia knew he was pleased to receive the opportunity to be able to benefit from a broader perspective as one of the Royal Council. Solving the riddle of poor harvests and incipient famine was probably not the mission he had dreamed of. "Yes, Your Majesty," replied Vender without enthusiasm. As expected, he had no useful counter-arguments on why he should not undertake the job. As she had pointed out, he had practical experience in solving problems and was more than suitable for the task. It would remain to be seen if he could actually solve the issues with the harvests. The King heaved himself up from the throne. "Father, what do we do with Proles?" The King looked blankly at his son and heir. "Why should we do anything with him?" "He was careless with the money," Idónnes huffed. "We do not dwell in the past, my son," Antes said with sudden paternal tenderness. "It's the future that's important."