Fate's Pawn 5

 

 

Chapter 5

 

The visitors left the temple looking spruce and smart, after a rapid inspection and a few admonitory growls from Harkon. It might be said that they were accompanied by a number of curious, or indeed, downright nosy, Alethosi, who had heard from those of Glyph-rank that something might happen.

Harkon sighed, but he could hardly forbid it. He hustled his people to hope to reach the inn where the seer was staying before any Event might occur in a public place.

Of course, trying to second-guess a seer never goes well.

The seer and her party made a beeline for Harkon and his in the middle of the market square.

“I should have known,” groaned Harkon.

“Only if you became a seer too, my lord,” said Protasion, with a snigger.

The tall woman with golden skin and hair, and bindings over her eyes, moved surely forward until she was level with Kaz, forestalling Harkon’s attempts to introduce himself.

“Behold!” she said. “The Daywalker brings in a new dawn, with joy for the cursed, and the ending of curses, the healing of the land and the moon. The Daywalker brings death, and truth, and life, and love; and she shall be cursed to live forever and desire Death; but the curse shall become a blessing, indeed.”

The clang in Kaz’s head was so loud that she clutched her ears and went on one knee.

The seer turned to Harkon. “I beg your pardon; I had to feel the connections for myself.”

“And did you have to offload all that on the poor child?” said Harkon.

“You care? Then you will be one of those who aids her quest,” said the seer.

 

The clang of a prophecy reverberated around the senses of the gods. For most, it was only the sense that a prophecy of some import had been made; lesser prophecies of the kind that affected only a few lives were rarely loud enough to be audible, though important to those affected; the seer’s comments to the bar wench that she should choose between wealth and happiness led to the girl making a foolish decision to marry her better off suitor, and ending her days as the punching bag of a drunken oaf. But the gods did not even hear that minor magical noise.

Those of the gods directly affected by a prophecy might know more. But still not the precise wording, and maybe only a hint of the one affected, and usually only if they were devout.

Alethos knew he had the loyalty of a now somewhat traumatised Trógling.

“What in the pits of hell did that old biddy say to the girl?” he demanded of Harkon.

Harkon opened his memory to his god.

“As if she hasn’t got enough to deal with, facing prejudice and a bully of an initiate,” said the Glyph-Lord, irritably. “Even I felt the clang of that prophecy ring through the magical essence.”

“She needs a guide who appears closer to her in rank,” said Alethos. “You may be a friend to her one day, but for now she is in awe of you. I will arrange something.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Harkon.

 

 

“We have come to offer you escort,” said Harkon, to the seer, shaking his god’s weighty voice from inside his head.

“I will be pleased to accompany you,” said the seer.

She permitted herself to be assisted onto a palanquin carried by four sturdy men with shaven heads and light tunics.

“We’ll be going back considerably slower,” said Harkon to his small troop.

“What was all that about?” asked Kaz. “I heard that chime again.”

“We all heard something of a chime,” said Protasion. “It’s about Kaz, isn’t it? And the rest of us just a disguise.”

“Yes,” said Harkon. “But if you heard the chime, it’s about you as well. Because Kaz will need some good friends. And, too, it’s about what we discussed on the way.”

“But I’m only a Trógling! I’m not some hero, to do so much!” panicked Kaz.

“We all wet our diapers before we learn to walk,” said Harkon. “Nobody expects a prophecy to be fulfilled immediately. Just carry on doing your best; I believe you will have another helper sent as well, from Alethos.”

“And you’re stuck with the rest of us,” said Lelyn. “We will help you bring down the Blood Moon.”

“I think she got the wrong person,” said Kaz.

“I think she got the one with the strongest spirit,” said Lelyn. “But you don’t have to do it alone.”

“I... thank you. All of you. I am afraid,” said Kaz. “What did she mean that I would live forever and desire death? It sounds like a long-drawn-out torture and an inability to be with our god.”

“I am sure that she would not have said it would become a blessing if it was not so,” said Harkon.

“I guess I’d better just work harder,” said Kaz, fatalistically.

 

There would be no running on the way back, and they must find more waypoints for provender and to sleep overnight. Travelling with a seer was very uncomfortable; at times she would appear to look at – or rather, through – people in inns where they stopped, and make remarks like, ‘The answer is ‘yes’ of course, but if you ignore it, ‘tis your own life to blight.’

“She’s a real bundle of laughs,” grumbled Protasion.

Kuros and Evgon agreed. Kaz stayed as far from the seer as she could, and prayed fervently for guidance.

She dreamed again.

“Courage, little one,” said the voice of Alethos. “You have comrades. And time is a fluid thing with prophesies. Nobody is looking for you to accomplish all within the next year or two! Put the thought of it to one side, and enjoy learning, and rising in my service. You will know when there is anything significant to do.”

“Thank you,” said Kaz. “I fear being separated from you if I will not die. I have found a home with you....”

“You will not be separated from me,” said Alethos. “I do not permit any who worship me to even remain as undead. I send others to release them. This prophecy has something which can be twisted when you are so cursed; which as I understand it has yet to happen, and so therefore, may not happen. Let me ease the memory of it for you, so that it is there, but not raw like a healing wound.”

“Thank you!” gasped Kaz, as her thoughts were gently eased away from going round and round the words, like a tongue seeks a broken tooth, even knowing that the roughness will hurt. And then she sank into deep, dreamless, restful sleep.

She little knew how much disquiet her god concealed from her about this prophecy; there was a reading of it which he might have wished otherwise. But Kaz knew nothing of this, and slept peacefully.

 

“You look happier,” said Harkon.

“I had one of those dreams... where he speaks,” said Kaz.

“I am glad,” said Harkon. “They are rare, but precious.”

“Truly,” agreed Kaz. “I am going to let things happen as they happen; if I am subject to a true prophecy, little I can do will divert it from happening, and if it’s as much tripe as a market charlatan fondling the innards of geese, then there’s no point worrying about it.”

“A very healthy attitude,” said Harkon.

The seer turned her face to Kaz as they broke their fast, with intensity in the face.

“You accept your fate,” she said. “That is good.”

“I accept that what must be, will be,” said Kaz. “I accept that if I have a preordained destiny, nothing can stop it. I accept that if you do not know what you are talking about, it will affect me no more to carry on as normal as it would if you do. If I find you are lying for your own purpose, I will kill you.”

“How dare you insult the seer!” shouted the seer’s guide, angrily.

“I didn’t ask her to seerise at me,” said Kaz. “Nobody who asks for a reading has any right to be angry if it is not what they want, but I neither sought nor desired any such baggage. She can hardly be surprised if I resent her.”

“I am neither surprised nor offended,” said the seer. “But I do not lie.”

“She does not,” said Harkon, reluctantly.

“Then I apologise; for I must believe the Glyph-Lord,” said Kaz. “I resent, mightily, also, the suggestion that as a follower of the primal god of death, I will not be permitted to go to him at my appointed time.”

“You will not be separated from Alethos,” said the seer.

 

 

oOoOo

 

The seer being installed in an inn, Harkon thankfully led his weary troop back to the temple. Kaz was glad to get back too. They ran in, in smooth formation.

A stranger sat in the yard, telling stories, by the look of it. He was not a tall man, but Kaz thought him quite the most beautiful man she had ever seen, with curly brown hair. He finished his story, and got up to come forward. He was bare-chested, but wore a pair of bronze bracers. Kaz knew that any Glyph-Lord, or –Priest would wear iron to show his status; so the inference was that this assured young man was an initiate.

Harkon gasped.

“Glyph-lord, and brother!” said the newcomer.

“My sword-brother!” said Harkon. “Now, what name are you going by here, may I ask?”

He was answered with an impish grin.

“Why, Alathan, which is, after all my name,” he grinned. “’Tis archaic; but then, I’m an archaic sort of fellow.” He glanced at Kaz. “Now, this, I believe, is my pupil, to bring on?”

“Yes... Alathan,” said Harkon.

“How do you do?” said Kaz, politely.

“Very well, thank you,” said Alathan, gravely. “I imagine that to have a prophesy laid on you must be hard.”

“I prayed, and Lord Alethos helped a lot,” said Kaz. “I know people portray him as hard and stern, but only in doing one’s duty; he is very kind.”

“Is not Death kindly to those who have nothing more to live for, and who welcome it as a rest?” said Alathan. “And is not the truth kindest, even when it is hard?”

“Does he then have dominion over all deaths?” asked Kaz.

“Oh, yes; though his worshippers are warriors,” said Alathan. “He sends his minions to collect any who die, to take to the hall of souls, to be collected by those deities to whom they belong; unless they pray to him for release from the service of their own god, to go only to death. Also, those without gods are his by default. The halls of those who are not battlekin are quiet, shaded zones of peace.” He hesitated, then went on, “There are many Tróglings there, those who have rejected the gods of the Toróg, and have no gods of their own. They await their hero.”

“Is that supposed to be me?” asked Kaz, suspiciously.

He laughed and ruffled her hair.

“What, you have something against heroes?” he asked.

“I’m suspicious of them,” said Kaz. “Are they really so noble?”

“No, of course not,” said Alathan. “But then, you worship a god of truth, death, and honour. Do you think he will permit you to be anything but noble?”

“No; and I’m not sure I’m noble enough to even consider it,” said Kaz, honestly. “I want to enact revenge on an initiate whom I do not like, and I want to find a way to make Stakis uncomfortable, and if I have a destiny to fulfil, I have been considering the underhanded ways slaves of the Toróg find to cause difficulty for their masters without being caught.”

“Telling the truth is not always the same as not telling all the truth. Harkon asked me by what name I was to be known; I have been known by different names in different places. You should be true to yourself.”

“As a race, we are underhanded and sneaky. I wanted to belong to Alethos to reject those traits forced upon us, as survival characteristics.”

“Ah, but it is how you use the skills learned,” said Alathan. “If you set a trap which would kill a member of the Selenite hierarchy, that is using your wit; but if it were made so that innocents died before their time is done, that is betraying your god, who takes them at the proper moment.”

“I think I see,” said Kaz.  “Sir, you are limping, and my darksense tells me you have a wound unhealed that is of the kind left by Toróg who worship Tor.”

“They do not heal; I function well enough,” said Alathan.

“But they can be healed; and I know both the herbs and the ritual,” said Kaz. “It will have to be cut open again, of course, but it is silly to leave it for the want of knowing what to do!” She took him by the hand and firmly pulled him over to the infirmary.

 

“Does she have any idea?” Pythas asked Harkon.

“Not a clue,” said Harkon, sniggering.

 

 

oOoOo

 

“Glyph-Priest Varon, have you knowledge of the herbs and rituals used to cleanse the wounds of one of Tor’s followers’ weapons?” asked Kaz, addressing the chief healer, priest of Latrika, sister of Alethos.

“I do not know any way,” said Varon. “Do you? I never mind learning more.”

“Do you have any silver star? It needs to be infused with thyme.”

“I have a very little; I bought some without being sure what it was used for, since a Toróg tradesman carried some. I’ve not seen any since.”

“Oh, I believe that was my former mistress, who thought of it as standard supplies; she was disciplined for selling some to a human,” said Kaz. “Even dried it has some efficacy.”

“We see plenty of Toróg inflicted wounds,” said Varon, grimly. “Good warrior, are you prepared for an unknown treatment?”

“The girl speaks truth; that’s enough for me,” said Alathan. “Kaz, show the priest how to prepare the herbs, and speak of the ritual beforehand.”

“Let me see the wound,” said Varon. Alathan meekly took off his sword belt and kilt, displaying the nasty scar running from just inside the knee almost to the groin.

Kaz swallowed.

“I can do it,” she muttered to herself.

“That’s been left some years,” said Varon.

“Nothing else to do,” said Alathan. “It was a most vicious battle. Both of us were wounded grievously, and slunk away to heal as best we might.”

“I think it would be easier to reach if you lay on your front, when I come to do it,” said Kaz. “I will take most notice of where it is affecting the tendon of the knee.”

“Thank you,” said Alathan.

He sat on the treatment table whilst Kaz brewed the herbs, and taught the ritual, a complex spell, to the healer.

“If this is a cult specific spell, how can you teach it without breaking vows?” he asked, interested.

“I was never taught it by the Lunar cult,” said Kaz. “I was a slave; there for running errands, and not considered clever enough to learn spells by watching them cast. The first spell I learned formally was sharpblade, here. But I’ve been able to save a few fellows wounded in the hasty anger of Tor worshippers. On us, chewing the flowers and thyme together is enough. The two together are used for toothache as well.”

“Interesting,” said Varon.

“Well, I’m ready,” said Kaz.