The Habit of the Sorcerer

by J J Moriarty

  “Food for all, take one and pass it on”, The slaver said.

  He began to hand small bowls through the bars. The bowls were passed along; one eventually ended up with Hyzou.

  “I was wondering when they’d feed us”, Hepatica said.

  The rice had been cooked, but that must have been some time ago. It had congealed into a brick, and was cold and difficult to chew. Still, Hyzou ate. It gave him something to do.

  Hepatica reached over and stroked his shoulder.

  “It’ll be ok”, Hepatica said.

  “No. It won’t”, Hyzou said.

  Hyzou tried to force back the tears. They formed in his eyes of their own volition. He looked outside and away from her.

  Silence fell. Hyzou’s brain had cooled just a little, but he still felt as if he were teetering on the edge of disaster. He didn’t want any more memories.

  What Hyzou wanted, what he needed, was a vision. The little images that regularly invaded his brain since he was a babe. The little maybe-futures, he called them.

  Now, Hyzou wanted a vision more than anything. He needed one. A vision where everybody was ok again. Where all was peace.

  But nothing came.

  The slavers, and there were only two for their cart, were heading due north. Or so the stars told Hyzou. The moonlight meant that only the very thin outline of the nearest carts could be seen, but Hyzou knew they were there. Perhaps a hundred, perhaps even more.

  Hyzou’s cart quietened shortly after nightfall. There wasn’t enough room for everyone to lie together comfortably, so in the centre of the cart the slaves formed a pile, with the children and light women on top and the men lying underneath. Hyzou stayed at the edge. He crushed himself against the bars and rested his chin on the cold bronze.

  Hepatica joined him. She lay down and rested her head upon his chest. Hyzou didn’t condemn it, nor did he welcome it. He just stayed staring while she dozed off. Her body was warm, warmer than it should have been. The spirit that had entered through her festering shoulder was dark. Very dark. She wasn’t long for this world.

  The mules were stopped and brought to water, the slavers put up their tents near the cart and ate their supper. Eventually everyone was asleep. Everyone but Hyzou, who well into the night found himself staring at the stars, unable to sleep.

  He stopped his mind from burning, and he couldn’t think of anything. He didn’t have to, the tears came anyway. They ran down his cheeks, warm and lots of them. Every time he thought he had them stopped, they came again in fresh waves cascading down his face. His back hadn’t healed, nor had his jaw or his leg. But there was a deeper malaise than any of those that was causing him pain. A spirit far eviler than the one on Hepatica’s shoulder had entered Hyzou and it too festered, somewhere deep within him.

  It was when he was in the depths of his grief that Hepatica reached over with her hand and wiped his face, drying the streaks of tears beneath his eyes.

  “Thanks.” Hyzou said.

  She just kept on dozing. Everyone did.

  CHAPTER 3

  Weeks passed, and the cart continued its stubborn, slow journey north to Lamybla. Hyzou’s jaw still stung, and the scar on his back still bled; but his leg had improved. Standing all day in the cramped cart meant he had nothing to do but stretch his right knee. That, and think. And gods did he hate thinking.

  The morning sun had risen for an hour and their cart had just started moving. Most others were asleep, but not Hyzou. Every night he was the last of the captives to fall asleep and every morning he was the first to wake.

  Insomnia was a problem he shared with one other of the captives.

  This captive rested in a spot that wasn’t too far from Hyzou’s. His sleeplessness was easier explained than Hyzou’s. The man must have been in excruciating pain. His skin was one giant burn; it never stopped bleeding and weeping.

  This burned man never slept, he was in too much agony. In the darkness, upon occasion, Hyzou and the burned man would stare across at each other over the pile of sleeping bodies. They shared the sunrise every morning between themselves too.

  Today, the man seemed in a slightly better mood than his wounds should have allowed. He smiled over at Hyzou. Between them the captives were asleep, so they were free to talk, which the burned captive wanted to do.

  “You seem smart, boy. How’s your hunger?” He asked.

  His voice sounded terrible. Like the noise of two stones being rubbed together.

  “I’m not hungry”, Hyzou said.

  “Nor am I. I’m too sore to eat. How are you doing? Do you think you’ll make it through the trip?” He asked.

  “I’d rather not think about death, if you don’t mind”, Hyzou said.

  “Well, you’re going to have to soon, boy, that man just there is dead”, the burned man said, pointing over to the pile of bodies sleeping.

  “Is he? What happened?” Hyzou asked.

  “Do you see the pale man right beside him? Yes, him. He choked him to death in the middle of the night”, the burned man said.

  “He did? That’s awful. Why would he do that?” Hyzou said.

  “It’s his second victim, he strangled a woman the night before. Funny, you didn’t hear people talk about it, did you?” The burned man said.

  “There was someone here dead yesterday?” Hyzou asked.

  “There still is. No one really did anything though, so I did nothing too”, the burned man said.

  Hyzou grimaced.

  “I hope it rains soon”, the burned man said.

  “Do you?” Hyzou said.

  “Yes, it will soothe my burns. They hurt”, he said.

  “You must have been in quite the fire.” Hyzou said.

  “I was. I was on the Palace balcony when it went up in flames. Were I smarter, I’d have let the flames consume me, rather than fight it so that I could ride months in horrible pain”, The man said. “Because we’re not even halfway yet.”

  “How are you still alive?” Hyzou said.

  The man laughed. “Not all my skin has gone, no I’m still keeping myself together. As an aside, I know who you are, boy. We’ve been introduced before.”

  “Do you?” Hyzou asked. “Have we?”

  “Yes, I knew your father. I saw you with him often. A good man, was Mak”, the burned man said.

  “You… You know my father?” Hyzou said.

  “Knew. I assume he didn’t survive the siege?” The man asked.

  Hyzou shook his head.

  “I try not to think about it”, Hyzou said.

  “That’s alright boy, I’m sad to hear it. We were friends once upon a time”, The burned man said.

  Hyzou couldn’t find a reply. His teeth felt stuck together.

  “Do you still have those visions? They’d be useful now, wouldn’t they?” The burned man said. “You could tell me when it will rain next.”

  Hyzou was shocked. He had never told anyone but Mak about his visions.

  Beside Hyzou, Hepatica arose from her slumber.

  “Who... Who are you?” Hyzou asked.

  “No one. Not anymore. Now I’m just a slave. And without a face there’s no way you’ll ever know who I was”, the burned man said.

  The blistered mess that once was the burned man’s face twisted. Hyzou thought that he might be smiling. The burned man crawled over to Hyzou, stepping lightly around the sleepers.

  “What’s your secret?” The burned man asked.

  “My secret?” Hyzou asked.

  “You know what I’m asking. I can sense it off you. You’re lying. You’ve got a secret. You’re lying”, the burned man said.

  “If I haven’t spoken how can I tell a lie?” Hyzou said.

  “A man doesn’t need words to lie. You’re no slave”, The man said.

  Hyzou pulled at his collar. “If I’m no slave, then why am I wearing this?”

  The burned man spoke. “I know you’re no slave.”

  “Go”, Hyzou said.

  “No, tell me
… Argh!”

  Hyzou had pressed his thumbs into the burned man’s face.

  The man jumped away in pain. He stared at Hyzou. Hyzou said and did nothing.

  The man slunk away, he had a remarkable ability to find his way through the crowd of slaves without disturbing anyone. Hyzou watched him go.

  Hepatica yawned, then leaned against him, and took his hand in her own. Hyzou was indifferent to Hepatica’s tenderness, but it seemed to soothe her, and Hyzou didn’t have the energy or inclination to dissuade her.

  She was acting lately like this was all just a slight inconvenience to her - that though she’d rather be back in Piquea, she was ok with how it all turned out either way. Hyzou, however, had begun screaming in his sleep. Or so Hepatica said.

  “I’m so hungry”, Hepatica said.

  “I know. So am I”, Hyzou said.

  The strongest slaves appropriated the meagre portions of others, and it meant that Hyzou had not eaten for a day, when he had split a bowl with Hepatica.

  “What did that man want?” Hepatica asked.

  “To ask me my secret”, Hyzou said. “And to see whether I still have my visions.”

  “Do you have visions?” Hepatica asked.

  “I did”, Hyzou said. “In my old life, sometimes everything would turn orange.”

  Hepatica giggled. She did that a lot.

  “That man hasn’t got a face”, Hepatica said.

  “He hasn’t. That’s true.” Hyzou said.

  “And was he right? Do you have a secret?” Hepatica asked.

  Hyzou swallowed. He didn’t know why, but he really didn’t want the slavers to know he could read and write. They might have promised him an easier journey north to Lamybla, but Hyzou had sensed something else, a kind of grave danger, around the revelation. Seeing the slavers in action, Hyzou decided he’d trust his instincts in this instance.

  He lowered his voice to a whisper.

  “Yes”, Hyzou said.

  “You do? You’d better not be about to tell me you touch yourself while the rest of us are asleep. I’d rather not know”, Hepatica said.

  “Wait, what? No. No I haven’t touched myself”, Hyzou said.

  “Well that man has, do you see him? With the big beard? He stared at me the whole time too, I didn’t know where to look”, Hepatica said.

  Hyzou laughed. It escaped from him before he even knew what the noise was, and it died as quickly as it begun.

  “Hey! That’s not funny Hyzou”, Hepatica said.

  “Sorry”, Hyzou said.

  Silence fell. Hepatica broke it.

  “Do you think that burned man is a sorcerer?” Hepatica asked.

  “May be”, Hyzou said. “It would explain why he’s still alive.”

  “He hasn’t got a face”, Hepatica said.

  “You said that already”, Hyzou said.

  “What’s your secret?” Hepatica asked.

  Hyzou looked at Hepatica. Her genuine interest showed on her face.

  “I can read”, Hyzou murmured.

  “You can what?” Hepatica asked.

  “Read. And write. My father was a scribe, he taught me”, Hyzou said.

  “What’s a scribe?” Hepatica asked.

  “A writer. My father was Chief Scribe. He wrote down everything King Imhotep ever said in Court”, Hyzou said.

  I’ve talked more this morning than I have in a week. Hyzou thought.

  Hepatica looked up at him.

  “So you won’t be going to the mines?” Hepatica asked. “You won’t die from poisoning?”

  “If I tell the slavers, which I haven’t”, Hyzou said.

  “Why not?” Hepatica asked.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t want to”, Hyzou said.

  “You’re more valuable than the rest of us?” Hepatica asked.

  “I suppose so”, Hyzou said. “I didn’t really think about it.”

  “Considerably more valuable?” Hepatica asked.

  “Considerably, I suppose”, Hyzou said.

  “And the slavers don’t know?” Hepatica said.

  “No, they don’t”, Hyzou said.

  Hepatica nodded. Then she shouted.

  “SIRS! GOOD SIRS! GOOD MASTERS!” She shouted at the top of her considerable voice, repeating it over and over.

  “SIRS! GOOD SIRS! GOOD MASTERS!”

  “SIRS! GOOD SIRS! GOOD MASTERS!”

  “Lorikuy’s madness, what are you doing?” Hyzou hissed.

  She just ignored him. Hyzou jumped to try and silence her, but she smacked him hard around the head.

  “Get away from me”, Hepatica said, not even looking at him.

  The slaver who looked like a weasel came over to them.

  “I told you lot to be fucking quiet”, he said, whip brandished.

  “Will you give me a meal if I tell you something interesting?” Hepatica said.

  “What kind of interesting?” The slaver asked.

  Hepatica rubbed her fingers together as if there were coins between them. Hyzou watched, horrified.

  “Keep speaking, and you may get some rice and onion. You may also get a whipping”, the slaver said.

  “This here’s Hyzou. He can read and write”, Hepatica said.

  “Stories. If he can read and write, why didn’t he tell someone? He wouldn’t be in there with you lot, up to his waist in crap”, the slaver said.

  “He’s strange. Really strange though. You have to believe me sir”, Hepatica said.

  The slaver frowned. Then he walked back to the front of the cart, out of sight. Hyzou stared at Hepatica, too betrayed to even feel angry, but she didn’t look at him once.

  The slaver came back. In his hand he was carrying a large stone slab with cuneiform script scrawled across its face.

  “Read this then”, the man said, and he presented it before Hyzou.

  In the name of the Pharaoh, God himself on earth

  Cargo must be delivered by the Breaking of Summer, maintain main roads. Punishment of death to any defectors – slavers will see profit when selling slaves in Lamybla. Slaves are to be delivered in the following order:

  Nobility First

  Literates Second

  Tradesmen Third

  Beauties Fourth

  Warriors Fifth

  Rabble Sixth

  Cargo to be brought into Lamybla through slave gate.

  “I don’t know what that says. I can’t read”, Hyzou said.

  The slaver smiled.

  “You’re lying”, the slaver said.

  “Am not”, Hyzou said.

  “Your eyes followed the script. You can read”, the slaver said.

  It was too late. The slaver went and unlocked the door at the back of the cart. A group of slaves rushed the door to try and get out, but a crack of the whip made them cower away from the opening, and the slaver stepped in.

  Hyzou tried to stay away from the reaching hand, but the slaver grabbed his chain and tore him from the carriage and out into the open air.

  Hyzou stumbled along after the slaver, his feet looking for purchase in the hard ground. Hyzou hadn’t walked in a week, and his right leg, though better, was still suffering. It wobbled each time he took a step, and soon enough he had tripped.

  “Come on!” The slaver shouted, dragging the chain and yanking Hyzou along in the dirt.

  After locking the door, the other slaver followed them. Both had abandoned the cart completely in the dirt to bring Hyzou to their destination. Stumbling in the open air it became easy to notice just how naked he was.

  They danced between the other horses and their carts, slaves suffering in them all. The carts stretched for miles in every direction. Each had their evil eyed slaver tending to them too.

  “Where are we going?” Hyzou asked.

  “Shut up”, one of the slavers said.

  They came to a chariot. It was driven and attended to by a party of slaves. In the back, dozing, was a man of wealth. Or so his clothes said anyway.

&
nbsp; Both slavers bowed as they approached. After one of his slaves tapped him on the shoulder, the rich man got up and looked over Hyzou and the two slavers.

  “Kyrios Nuya. We have brought you a tribute for sale”, The weasel said. “He’s just like what you asked for.”

  The wealthy man, who Hyzou assumed was Kyrios Nuya, looked at Hyzou and lifted his upper lip.

  “What is this wretch?” Kyrios Nuya asked.

  They were speaking Lamyblan.

  “My Kyrios, this slave is literate”, The slaver said.

  The man, Kyrios Nuya, looked Hyzou in the eye. Hyzou shivered slightly under the intense gaze.

  “Where did you learn to read and write, boy?” Kyrios Nuya asked.

  Hyzou was frozen. The weasel faced slaver kicked his leg, and Hyzou was forced to his knees.

  “If you’re literate, boy, you won’t need your legs for the work we’ve got in mind”, Kyrios Nuya said. “Unless you find your voice soon, I’ll have both your legs chopped off.”

  Hyzou spoke. “My father was King Imhotep’s Chief Scribe.”

  “You know, when a freeman lies to me, I crucify him. Do you want to imagine what I’d do to a slave that lies?” Kyrios Nuya said.

  Hyzou shook his head. His jaw still stung.

  “Are you lying, boy?” Kyrios Nuya asked.

  “No”, Hyzou said.

  A note of panic entered Hyzou’s voice as he continued speaking.

  “My father was Mak, Chief Scribe to Imhotep, King of Piquea”, Hyzou said.

  The weasel spoke. “He can read and all. We tested him.”

  “Did you work with him?” Kyrios Nuya asked.

  Hyzou nodded.

  “I was his apprentice”, Hyzou said.

  Kyrios Nuya smiled a sly smile. He reached into his pocket and took out two slim gold bars.

  Kyrios Nuya spoke to the slavers. “You’ll give me the slave, and I’ll give you one of these each, and you’ll never talk to me again.”

  “Yes, My Kyrios. Many thanks, My Kyrios”, The slavers said.

  Hyzou’s chain was handed to one of the large men on Kyrios Nuya’s chariot. Kyrios Nuya threw the gold into the dirt, and both slavers lunged to grab hold of the bars. Hyzou was yanked up onto the top of the chariot where he landed upon his feet. His right leg stayed strong. He steeled himself and looked around.