It's nearly midday before Yadout springs back to life. The night had been a long one and some folks are still recovering from it, some turning over in bed to keep whatever light was filtering through the curtains from waking them, others sitting very still to avoid moving a muscle that had been strained in the celebration but most, like myself, simply slept longer than they had expected to.
Along with the Zibwites, Anita, Kevin and a few others started their day off like they always would. The Zibwites are unaffected by the late night, they are used to staying up for hours on end to dance and sing, as is their custom. Anita was inspired last night by all the aromas that she had created and was writing frantically on a piece of paper long after she had returned to her home for the night and awoke, I understand, before dawn to continue. Kevin, like various other shopkeepers, takes pride in his work and opened his shop, as always, just after low morning.
The groggy town begins to get up, the people move slowly at first but the smell of Anita's new recipes begins to drift from her hovel, the smell escaping through small cracks in the walls and giving the people new found vigor. Had Anita known that some of the smell was escaping she would likely have done everything she could to stop it. Convinced that smell is half of a recipe she keeps hold of it just as tightly as flour or milk.
Dragging my feet past the fruit vendors (only given a little more energy from the smell of Anita's cooking) I sit down on a box across from Timmothy, a Zibwite who had come on the turtles hoping to have arrived early enough to join the militia. Though thin, even for a Zibwite, the man was obviously stronger than he let on. Timmothy had helped Gordo in his forge the day after retaking the castle and had single handedly moved a chest containing all the swords before the large man could get around to asking the Zibwite to assist him in moving it.
Timmothy had seemed especially happy to have a change of scenery and had discussed with Kendra the possibility of building a house here in Yadout and remaining here for a few harvests. Ryan had frowned on the idea but has been too busy with some business with the Temple to voice his opinion.
Before I was halfway through an apple I hear a number of screams and shouts from the western seashore where the fishermen are already preparing for a night of fishing.
The excitement begins immediately as everyone who heard now moves as though last night had never happened. Young and old alike move with youthful vigor as shopkeepers and their workers leave their posts. The entire market is soon abandoned.
Timmothy and I push our way to the front of the crowd, the Zibwite using his strength to move people out of my way. As I glance around, however, with people quickly filling in the space left in Timmothy's wake, I come to realize that it's likely that the man is not doing this for my benefit.
Arriving at the front of the crowd I stand beside Timmothy and look down at the pale body of a man, soaked to the bone and lying on the beach. One of the fishermen, a levelheaded man about Stuarts age, kneels down beside him and keeps the crowd from getting too close to the stranger. The fisherman has his fingers pressed against the man's throat as he searches for a lifebeat.
"Is he dead, Brian?" I ask slowly as I kneel down opposite the man. The fisherman looks up but decides not to order me away.
Brian shakes his head. "He's not dead." He tells me. The people around us begin to talk hurriedly to one another. "He may not be for long though. Lifebeat is weak. He may have some water in his lungs."
"Anything we can do?" I ask.
Brian shakes his head. "Nothing I can think of. Maybe get a priest to do what he can." Ryan won't be able to do anything.
Of all the Zibwite people the priests are the strangest. Those higher up in the temple tend to speak in riddles when asked a simple question and those who are lower tend to spend more time sleeping that studying.
"He swam to the shore and crawled onto the beach. When I came up to him he tried to say something but fainted before he could." Brian pulls a small belt up from his side. "He had this on." Some of the people in the crowd begin to disperse, already bored with the happening.
The belt had multiple pouches sewn into it. The pouches contained many knives, some herbs, dried meat, some papers with odd writing and maps in a small box which also held flint and steel. Miraculously, nothing inside the leather pouches was so much as damp.
"Who is he?" Chris asks emerging from the crowd as I shove the small box back into the pouch. The man's breathing is shallow, barely noticeable.
"No, but he had maps on him. Maps of Yadout." I say passing him the belt. "Last pocket, inside the box." Chris eagerly pulls the maps out again and studies them intently. "Brian, Tim, would you two help me bring him to Kevin's Gate?" I ask.
With Brian and Tim carrying the man, his legs dragging behind, I run towards Kevin's Gate with Chris following behind the stranger. Life in Yadout slowly returns to normal.
Kevin's Gate is the best place to bring the half-dead man. After the battle for the castle I had given a sample of Kennith's potion to both the barkeep and to Ryan hoping that one of them might be able to figure out what the man was on to before he died.
The door hits the wall with a bang as I hurry into the nearly empty shop. Sitting at the bar, Stuart slowly stirs a half drank fruit cocktail with a spoon and stares sullenly into the cup as though dreading the thought of finishing it. He doesn't even glance up as I loudly enter. "Where's Kevin?" I ask.
"In the back looking for his manifest. He thinks someone might have taken a barrel of Fruit Cocktail last night if you can believe it." Stuart looks back down into his mug. "Don't know why anyone would, personally." He tells me as I hop over the counter and land flatfooted on the other side. "Hey! You can't go back there!" Stuart protests.
"There's no time." I tell him opening drawers and pushing aside mugs in search of the potion.
Stuart laughs. "That's why I always liked you, when you're motivated nothing can stop you. Grab me a drink too while you're back there."
"I'm not looking for a drink. I'm looking for something I gave Kevin a couple of days ago." I tell the old man as I spin to check the shelf of herbs the man keeps.
Stuart nods in understanding. "All the better I suppose, I'm not sure I'll be able to finish this one." The Admiral tilts his head back and finishes the drink in a single swallow. "Scratch that." He says with a belch.
"Where do you want him?" Brian asks coming through the door with the stranger.
Stuart stands to his feet. "Kevin!" The old man shouts. "Who is he?" He asks Brian.
"We don't know." Brian admits. "He just swam here. Probably a Zibwite."
"I don't recognize him." Timmothy tells us.
I hop over to the other side of the bar. "Kevin! We need you out here!" I shout into the back. "Well he's not from Yadout." I say firmly.
"Well then what's left?" Brian asks. "He's certainly not an Ogre."
I shake my head, a thought dawns on me. "Stuart, the land to the north, could he have?"
Stuart stares at the man. "We didn't run into anyone." He tells me. "But... maybe."
"Hello." Kevin says emerging from the back and smiling widely at all the customers he suddenly has. He turns his attention to Brian and Timmothy and the unconscious stranger. Kevin's smile fades as he sweeps his hand across the bar to clear away Stuart's mugs. "Here, lay him across the bar." Kevin orders.
Brian and Timmothy quickly comply and the man lands with a wet 'thud'. "Strange clothes." Brian says quietly. 'Strange' was a polite word. I have never seen anything in Yadout or Zibwee that is similar to what this man wears. His dull red goatee seems to be given life from his bright orange shirt. His jet black pants were adorned with golden buttons and a white bracelet with odd writing was wrapped lovingly around his wrist.
"He looks like a corpse." Timmothy admits. Kevin pulls away from the stranger and shakes his head, obviously disgusted.
"I was wanting to give him some of Kennith's potion." I inform the barkeep. "Do you have it on you?" I ask.
"He doesn't need healing." Kevin insists. "He's just exhausted. If he were dying he would have done so already. You should take him up to the castle."
I nod but protest. "Can we let him rest here for a while?" I ask.
Kevin looks at me intently, his eyes dark. "I don't want him in my shop." The barkeep informs me coldly.
I frown at the large man. "Is this about the missing barrels?" I demand.
Kevin looks away and sighs. "I don't want him in my shop." He repeats.
I've never known Kevin to act this way, he has always been kind and generous in every way imaginable. If you give him a fingers worth of dirt, he'll give you an island.
"Alright." I concede. "Brian, Tim, can you two take him up to the castle now?" Though Tim is eager to help and become better recognized in the community, Brian only reluctantly agrees. Chris, who never took his eyes off the map of Yadout, follows them up to the castle with Stuart reading over the young man's shoulder.
"Kevin, a word." I say turning to the man slowly. Kevin looks down at the counter, his head in his hands but he's not ashamed. He seems frightened. "Kevin?" I ask.
Kevin looks up at me. "It seems my past has finally come back to haunt me." He tells me.
"You know that man?" I ask.
Kevin thinks about the question, not sure how to answer it. "Well, no." He says finally. "I can't explain it."
"I need you to." I insist.
Kevin shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "I made a promise."
"To who?"
Kevin pauses, again he thinks hard about his answer. "Hudson." He says quietly, not looking at me. "I made a promise to Hudson." the barkeeps gaze lifts, his eyes hard. "No one can know what you know." He tells me. "If they find out then I'm going to have to leave."
I look around incredulously. "I don't even know what I know." I tell him.
Kevin nods. "Keep it that way." He insists.
"Deany!" I hear Stuart shout from far away.
"We'll talk about this later." I tell him heading for the door.
"No we won't." He states plainly. I hold up my hand, ready to protest, and think better of it. I hurry out the door and up to the castle. I'll get my answers when the man wakes up.
"You see what I mean?" Tom demands, his tone harsh in the empty throne room.
"Excuse me?" I demand, my own voice echoing in the chamber.
Tom laughs at me, his voice sneering. "The power has gone to her head. She isn't content. Haven't you seen how odd she's been acting?"
"The power is her regardless of how you view her use of it. We're a counsel, not a ruling body. If you're still up in arms about the bodies..."
"What do you know about the bodies?" He demands, his staring eyes piercing my soul.
"She hasn't been acting suspicious." I tell him to change the subject.
He nods, seeing what I'm doing. "You're wrong. The banquet last night, the festival, dancing?" He spits the last word like an accusation. "You know that is not who she is. She has become corrupt and is trying to earn our trust just like the Ogres did before they turned against us."
"You're wrong. Things have changed in Yadout, things are changing, they are going to keep changing. You though," I look him over as though his outward appearance is reflecting the filth he is showing me in his words. "You are changing for the worse."
"Change?" He shoots back. "What do you know of change, brother? You write things down, what good is that going to do you? You're merely her way of being remembered. If your position is good for one thing it is to compare the past with the the present. Think about the stranger. She is letting him sleep in the castle. Think about the Ogres. History is repeating itself. He could have an army all his own just waiting for us to slip up."
"Hiding in his belt, perhaps." I offer sarcastically.
Tom spits on the ground. "What of Stuart's artifact? Magic has found its way back to Yadout."
"He never even suggested the castle."
"Chris has his map!"
"Who is going to conquer us? Zibwee?"
There is a long pause. Though I consider the thought of Zibwee invading to preposterous, I wouldn't put it past my brother to believe such a story.
Tom takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Well then, I need an answer from you. Is blood thicker than water after all?"
"I know that the ocean has swept in on the water between you and Amber, turning it bitter." I respond calmly.
"Do you have a reason to support her?" He demands.
"There's a time and there's a place." I tell him.
"How about here? How about now? Are you for me or are you for her?"
"There's a time and there's a place." I repeat coldly. Tom and I stare at each other for long moments before I turn and walk from the throne room.
"Not listening to the voice of truth will not silence it." He says as I reach the door leading to the hall.
"What's worse, Tom?" I ask stopping a moment to respond. "Not listening to the voice of truth, or twisting its words."
I leave the throne room before he can respond and begin down the hall. He has been too absorbed this morning with his work in the lower level of the castle to bother coming after me and, as I expected, he turns away to return to his work searching for traps down below.
Turning inward to my thoughts I begin to scour the conversation with my brother. If he is right, if there is a weak link on the counsel it is either him or Amber. I do not know who is in the right and who is a fool. I wish I could see a positive outcome of Tom being right, but I cannot.
"Deany!" Stuart shouts, stepping in front of me and blocking my path. My mind had wandered. "Are you alright?" The old man asks, his bushy grey eyebrows pushing down on his nose. "You seem distracted."
"Couldn't get your attention not a moment ago." Chris says appearing at my side.
"Yes." I reply in a daze. "I mean, no, I'm not distracted. I'm..." I pause, "I'm fine."
"Was that Tom you were talking to in the throne room?" Stuart asks. All my life Stuart has been trying to protect me from my brother, protect me from the games he would play with my mind and with my spirit.
"No, it was nothing, really." Chris and Stuart look at me in worry, it's obvious that they're not buying into my story. "What was it that you two wanted to talk to me about?" I ask before they have an opportunity to object.
Stuart sighs. "It was nothing Deany."
"You seemed beside yourself. We're actually very busy right now."
I smile. "No time for a bite of the food left over from the banquet last night?" I ask the pair as I gesture to the banquet hall.
Stuart shakes his head. "Amber asked us to make a map to Uncachunca." The old man informs me.
"The histories call it Xtand." I remind him.
Stuart shrugs. "Right, Xtand. After we explained the situation with the stranger, and Timmothy not recognizing him from Zibwee, she decided to find... Xtand... and search the land for inhabitants."
Chris nods vigorously, his hair thrown out of place. "That's right! Better an enemy you know that a friend you've never met!" I wrinkle my brow, unsure of whether to agree with him or not.
Stuart, with the same dubious thoughts concludes "Right, at the very least he's here now and we'd like to know why. Amber's planning to send out an expedition regardless of what the man says, can't be too careful. We'll be down at Kevin's Gate if you need us."
I have to fight the urge to tell them to ask Kevin as well what he knows but the man was adamant about keeping his secrets. If he had promised Hudson not to tell then the matter must be important. It's likely, also, that Hudson had told Amber as well. If she is already aware then there is no reason to press the issue.
Stuart and Chris march down the hall arguing over the position of the island and their starting point. Whether they departed from the east of Yadout and circled around north west or departed from the west of Yadout and circled around to the north east.
"It's a full days travel by turtle." Amber says from behind me. I nearly jump out of my skin, not realizing that she had approached me from behind. "I'm sorry." She laughs. I grab my chest, my heart beating furiously in shock. "Xtand, is it? It's a full days travel by turtle so even a small miscalculation could send an expedition to the heart of the ocean." She stops and looks at me. "Are you okay?" She asks.
"I'm fine." I insist.
"You seem distracted." Her face shows clearly the worry for me that she now carries. Any mixed emotions on my part, she had explained, could reflect poorly on her when the book is finished and her rule comes to an end.
"No, no, it's nothing I promise you."
Amber watches me sadly. "Alright Deany." She says finally. "You're free to have your secrets." I sigh sadly at the thought. "I would like you to do me a favor, however, I need you to go down to Gordo's blacksmith and pick up my new throne. I still need to pay my respects at the grave site."
I nod and bow slightly. "Of course Amber." Amber smiles but keeps herself from laughing. "What is it?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Just how formal you are." She walks forward briskly and catches my arm, I walk beside her and can't help but smile as well. "You would think that the past was completely forgotten."
"You are the Lady Mayor now, and I am your Scholar." I remind her. "The past isn't forgotten, the present has simply changed."
We stop before walking down to the main gates of the castle, the portcullis still raised from when the assault had taken place. Come to think of it, I haven't seen Rebecca since she was dispatched into the castle. "Well to me I'll always be that same little girl and you'll always be that same little boy." She laughs quietly to herself. "I don't even remember how we met. You've just always been there." Amber suddenly steps away, her cheeks turning very red. "Thank you Deany, if you can bring the new throne to the throne room I'd appreciate it."
I smile and nod as she walks to the gate and out into the light. After a moment I leave the castle as well as my fears concerning what Tom had said. Amber has not gone mad with power, if anything she's grown much calmer and thoughtful since retaking the castle.
"Deany!" I hear Ryan call from the south bridge. The man, dressed in regular Zibwite clothes and not that of a priest, hurries up to me. "I have many problems and need your help." He tells me.
"I'm sorry Ryan, but I can't help right now. I'm heading down to Gordo's blacksmith..."
"This is important!" The young priest protests.
I've known Ryan for many harvests and I know that an 'important' issue for him is usually something that can wait. "I don't know if you realize it, but it's not very common for a Priest to be sent to Yadout." The priests rarely leave the temple grounds much less the country, I would have confirmed such knowledge but the man continues. "I have been sent on a mission of great importance, however in my time here I've already run out of clean clothes. My problem is this, while I would normally do such a menial task myself" he lies "I can find no time to do it with the temple business."
"What business do you have with the temple that leaves you enough time to delegate washing clothes but not to actually doing it yourself?" I ask.
Ryan looks at me, his expression clearly stunned. "Are you accusing me of wasting my time with this? The gods only know how long I'll be here in Yadout. If I don't clear up this issue soon then I could spend many days washing clothes. I need you to do it for me."
I laugh. "I'm not accusing you." I insist. "You're my eyes and ears in Zibwee, old friend, but you're going to have to find someone else to bother with your laundry."
"Does this mean you won't cook for me, either?" The priest demands. "I am one of the chosen of the gods! Do you not remember your time in the temple?"
"I remember." I reply slyly. "And if the priests find out that you were my partner-in-crime that night that we took all the garnet from the Fountain of Herif, well, the 'gods' may just reconsider exactly how chosen you are."
Ryan sighs and looks around. "Isn't there a single hospitable soul in Yadout?" He asks gesturing to the country that opens up before us. I look over at the priest and he catches the glance. "No." He tells me firmly.
"I haven't even said anything!" I protest.
Ryan smiles and nods. "Of course not."
"Do you want the laundry done?" I ask.
Ryan shakes his head. "I can't believe I'm doing this. What's her name?"
"Lindsey." I answer immediately. "She's an herbalist and has been dying to meet you ever since she saw you. She's the only person I can think of who'd be willing to help you for free."
Ryan continues to shake his head. "I'd better not be being fooled again."
"What are you talking about?" I ask incredulously.
"I'm talking about Priscilla, the baker's daughter."
I nod in at the happy memory. "You nearly married her, didn't you?"
"She was married already, to the high priest!" Ryan spits.
I laugh. "She didn't know you were courting her. You had no idea how. You came to me for all your advice."
"I still can't believe I brought her a basket of rotten fish."
"Love will make you do funny things. That was when you found out, wasn't it?"
"That was when I found out I should never trust you."
"Ancient history."
"That was two harvests ago."
I laugh at him. "Trust me. You won't have to do anything for her. No baskets of fish or anything. Just say hello, ask if she knows anyone who has some spare time to help a Zibwite priest and keep smiling."
Ryan looks dubiously at me. "Is she single?" He asks finally.
"If you only want her to do your laundry, I don't see why that matters." I point down a side road. "Head down this road, it's the fastest way to the herbalists shop."
"What about you?" He demands.
I smile. "I have other business. Just remember, clean clothes!" I call out over my shoulder, not bothering to stop. The young priest watches me go then looks down the road, down at his clothes and then follows the path.
Pulling the cord around my neck I bring up the Repostem that my brother had given me and blow into it. A sharp, shrill note resounds over the street as all those passing by look up at me in annoyance before turning back to the work they were doing.
Flying out of the market, the owl glides across the sky making its way slowly to me. Though it flies as calmly as possible, an owl in the skies of Yadout is guaranteed to be watched by many people. This time, it stares back at some of those who watch it but does not call out and draw additional attention to itself.
Descending sharply a few streets away the bird disappears from my line of sight only to come out of a shop window and land cleanly on my shoulder, its sharp talons digging once again into my flesh. I clench my fist at my side, and hold my breath to keep from hitting the bird away.
"Show me." I say through a tight jaw.
My stomach seems to fall to the floor as the thoughts of the owl overcome my senses and I begin to see what the owl had seen a day before. Yadout, behind the market, the ground moves faster than I can run as I twist and turn maneuvering in and out of the streets and around the buildings moving steadily towards the castle. Through the doors, past Amber, into the banquet hall and... nothing. Light, I exit the banquet hall, out the castle through a high window, circling around the Military Island. Diving in close I see Amber talking with one of the people who is preparing the meals. She returns to the castle, looks around in confusion, shakes her head and enters again. Turning around, the owl flies back to the market.
Returning to reality I fall to my knees and the bird takes to the air. I'll never know what Amber had said but this was a good test. The bird will prove useful, if not for watching Amber then perhaps for watching Tom.
"Good morning, Gordo!" I say cheerily. "Do you have a throne for me to pick up?" I ask, rubbing my bleeding shoulder. The brown tunic I wear today keeps the wound hardly noticeable.
Gordo nods. "Sure do, just sitting in the back. Let me grab it." The blacksmith pushes through a small opening in the back of the shop that seems like it was made for someone much smaller than the large man.
I turn around as Timmothy approaches the blacksmith's shop and greet him. "Things are looking good." Timmothy tells me. "I just spoke with Kendra again, she's going to talk with Amber at the next opportunity. You guys may have just got a new citizen." The man slaps me on the chest and walks past, my chest sore where he hit me.
"Timmothy, is that you?" Gordo shouts from the back, the sound of metal against metal nearly drowning out his voice as he shuffles through the back room. It's uncanny that he heard Timmothy enter from back there.
"It sure is, sir." He says warming his hands by the forge.
"Looking for more work?" Gordo asks.
Timmothy nods as Gordo emerges with a wooden stool from the back room. He places the stool on the ground and turns back to the storage space. "I am." Timmothy admits sitting on the stool. "Kendra says I should find work in Yadout if I plan on staying."
"Then go ahead and start cleaning up this back room." Gordo says turning around. "And for the love of the nation, get off Amber's throne." He finishes in exasperation.
Timmothy quickly stands up as Gordo walks over to the stool and brushes off the seat of the throne. "There it is Deany." Gordo says in satisfaction. "Just like Amber ordered. Three legs, no back, average height for a chair. Odd for a throne, yes, but who am I to question the royals?"
Timmothy looks at the stool as I pick it up. "Do you understand?" He asks.
I shake my head. "Not a clue." I admit.
Gordo slaps his hands together. "Get to working, boy. I'm expecting that back room cleaned out by low evening." Timmothy nods and brushes through the small door that fits him perfectly. Gordo turns and smiles. "Looks like I got an apprentice."
"He hasn't even been here for two days and you think you're going to hand it all over to him?" I ask.
Gordo shrugs. "Well I don't have any kids and I'm running out of time here in Yadout. I was thinking of retiring anyways." Gordo and I laugh. The old man won't retire until he dies. "Rest for the old bones is coming sooner than you think young man, always remember that. No one ever expects to die."
I nod, not really understanding what he means. "Thanks Gordo." I says slowly.
Gordo stares at me a second. "Well, what do you want? A cake? I got work to do."
I raise my hands and thank him again for the stool throne and then head back up to the castle only to find the portcullis down and the doors shut.
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