by Logan Jacobs
Two hours later, after all of us had gnawed our apples down to the core and found them sweet, juicy, and firm but not hard, and taken the left-hand path of the fork that Ned had mentioned and passed several groves of the wild apple trees he had described, we reached the village of Galeurn.
Instead of the more common fields of wheat or corn or cabbage, it was surrounded by orchards with rows upon rows of healthy, flourishing apple trees. It was evidently the village’s main crop.
Then, as we approached the village center where all the buildings were crowded together, the air became fragrant with the scent of baked apples, sugar, and cinnamon. Galeurn was a larger village than the last one which hadn’t had a name that I knew of, where Peryenia of Ukalion lived in her lonely garret. It also looked more prosperous. Below people’s homes, the first floor of many buildings were occupied by storefronts with brightly painted signs, many of them incorporating some kind of apple symbol.
The people that we passed by in the street, which was actually paved with cobblestones, looked as stout and healthy as their trees. Some of them stared at us, which we were perfectly used to, but not with hostility or fear, just with curiosity and interest. Many smiled, and a few raised their hands to wave or called out greetings to us.
“This place is even more lovely than any palace could ever be,” Ilandere said.
“How would you know that?” Florenia asked. “You’ve never been in a palace, have you? Only Lord Kiernan’s castle, which comes nowhere near to qualifying. This village has its own quaint charms to be sure, but trust me when I say that they do not compare to the splendors of a well-furnished palace.”
“Well, all the people seem happy, and it’s very peaceful,” the beautiful centaur replied. “There’s a lot of wealth and power concentrated in castles and palaces and other seats of nobles, right? And other people get jealous of that and try to attack them. So they always have to have battlements and arrow slits and be ready to fight for their homes. But people rarely ever attack cottages. So I’d rather have a cottage in the countryside.”
“That is an absurd view to take,” Florenia said. “Saying that you’d rather have nothing than something wonderful, just because whenever you have something wonderful, of course everyone else with less covets it too. Well, as long as you are strong enough and smart enough and choose your thanes wisely and treat them fairly, there is no reason you should not be able to defend what is rightfully yours.”
“But a cottage isn’t nothing,” Ilandere said. “If it’s filled with cozy furniture and has a hearth, and the people you love live there, then it’s a home. And it’s the only home I’d ever need.”
“Nature already provides absolutely everything that a reasonable creature requires for survival,” Elodette said. “Building permanent structures and thinking that part of the earth belongs to you personally just because you put some timbers on top of it is a ridiculous human conceit.”
Both Ilandere and Florenia rolled their eyes at her.
“Finders keepers,” Lizzy said. “Also takers keepers. If I can get my hands on it, and you can’t stop me then it’s mine.”
“That kind of attitude is precisely why battlements and arrow slits are necessary,” Florenia said disapprovingly.
“If everyone had a cottage of their own and a loving partner to share it with, maybe they wouldn’t feel the need to compete for each other’s resources,” Ilandere said wistfully.
“Well, some people have ambition, you know,” the sultry duke’s daughter replied haughtily.
“What do you think, Vander?” Ilandere asked me. “Would you rather live in a cottage or a palace?”
“I… er… intend to live in both,” I said. “I intend to live wherever each of you will be happiest. But I’ll all be traveling on the road for the foreseeable future until I have vanquished Thorvinius.”
“And any other bad guys we run into on the way,” Lizzy added. “I’ll keep traveling with you, Vander. And I don’t mind one bit where the hell we bed down at night. If we had a hut or if we had a fancy ass palace, staying in one place would get old after a while all the same.”
“It’s true,” Willobee said. “I’ve had so many homes, so many vehicles, so many masters, so many children, I can’t remember them all, and the idea of staying with any of them forever is unthinkably tedious. But every one was special to me during our time together.”
“Well, you’ll always remember us all right,” the she-wolf said confidently. “Even if you do wander off on some kinda funny gnomish business someday.”
“Yes, all the near-death experiences I have endured in your company have left permanent psychic scars,” groaned the gnome.
“Ooh, can we buy a pie here?” Ilandere asked as we approached a bakery. The mouthwatering scent of apple pie was unmistakable.
“Of course,” I said. The little centaur princess rarely asked for anything, and it would make for a delicious midday meal.
The bakery was run by a friendly elderly couple, Sol and Minna.
“It’s a wonderful surprise to see new faces around here,” Minna said after we had ordered a pie, some tarts, and some apple bread pudding, and she had given their apprentice instructions to heat the goods. “And such beautiful faces too! You all look like royalty. What brings you to Galeurn?”
“We are just passing through,” Elodette said. It was unlike the surly centaur to be the first one to speak up, especially in conversation with strangers, but I had a feeling she was directing the remark more to Ilandere, as a reminder, than to the bakers.
“Ah, well, I’m glad you happened by then,” Minna said. “Where are you on your way to?”
“In the long term, we are on our way to aid Qaar’endoth in conquering the world and establishing a benevolent dictatorship,” Florenia said. “In the short term, we are just headed to the temple of Tarlinis to intervene in an impending Thorvinian attack.”
“My goodness,” the old lady said. For the first time her placid demeanor looked a little jarred.
“I don’t know who this Qaar’endoth fellow is,” her husband Sol said, “but you mean the Thorvinians are coming to the temple of Tarlinis? That’s bad news, that’s bad news indeed.”
“Is Tarlinis the god of this village?” I asked him. “Is he worshipped here in Galeurn?”
“Ah, well, I wouldn’t say that,” Sol replied. “We don’t really bother much with gods around here, and they don’t really bother us. We pay attention to our harvest calendars and to the tenets of horticulture, and viniculture too, we make a delightful apple brandy here that’s quite a bit more durable than pies, so we can transport it to farther markets. And we make a habit of being kind to our neighbors and lending a hand when we can, and they do the same for us. And all that has been enough for Galeurn in the way of religion for as long as I’ve lived, and as long as my father lived, and my grandfather before him, and my great-grandfather before that.”
“I see,” I said. “Then is the temple of Tarlinis, er, one of the primary consumers of your apple brandy?”
“Well, yes, there is that,” Sol conceded. “But overall it’s just a pity for peaceful folk like them to be harassed by these marauding fanatics like these Thorvinians. I’ve never met ‘em and I hope to goodness I never do, but the tales are starting to spread, even to villages like ours where there are no temples and therefore no reason for The Devourer to pay a visit. Unless, of course, he has a taste for apples. And almost everybody does. Our apples, anyway. None like them in all of Ambria.”
“That’s just what Ned the Younger told us, that Galeurn apples are special,” Ilandere said. “We met him on the road on the way here.”
“Ah, yes, Ned is my nephew,” Sol said. “My youngest sister’s boy. He has a bit of the wandering bug. Always trying to expand into new markets. And then there’s his brother Alan, who’s always trying to invent new products, as if a body really needed apple core earrings and invisible ink made from apple juice and condoms made from apple peels. As far as I’m concerned, apples
are good for one thing and one thing only, and that’s eating.”
“But there're thousands of ways to eat them, and we’ve tried most of them over the last half a century,” Minna said happily.
“Oh, I wish I knew how to bake,” Ilandere said. “I think that I would like it very much.”
“You would have fit in with the vestals of Nillibet better than I did,” Florenia agreed, “species notwithstanding.”
“And Sol may be right that some of our dear nephew’s inventions may be a bit silly, but there are plenty of other lovely ways to use apples besides for eating and drinking,” Minna continued. “We make the most fragrant soaps and oils and scented candles and sell them to aristocrats.”
“You do?” Florenia asked. “To which houses?”
“Oh, I don’t know much about that, dearie,” Minna said. “They all have such flowery names, don’t they, aristocrats? Sound a lot alike. And I don’t deal with any of their servants myself, that’s what some of my friends with the bath products do. I just sell baked goods to whoever walks by and happens to catch a good whiff! Hard to resist after that, if I do say so myself.”
At that point, the couple’s apprentice returned with a tray laden with our purchases, which were piping hot and issuing faint wisps of steam. We thanked Sol and Minna and bade them good afternoon.
“Enjoy your visit to Galeurn,” Minna said with a crinkle-eyed smile. “It really was a treat to meet such polite and promising young people.”
“And good luck with saving the Tarlinians from Thorvinius,” Sol added. “Those priests and vestals have never done anyone any harm, and they always pay for their brandy shipments promptly and in full. Anyone who would attack them is a raging asshole, I tell you.”
“We’re going to do our best,” I said.
Lizzy winked and said, “Don’t worry, those Thorvinians don’t stand a chance against Vander. Your customers are safe.”
We carried the pie, tarts, and bread pudding over to a village square and settled down beneath a broad, leafy tree to enjoy them. The crusts were buttery and exactly the right degree of doughy, firm, or flaky in the case of each pastry to best complement the sweet spiced apple fillings.
“Would Nillibet approve?” I asked Florenia.
“Oh, Nillibet would be jealous that a secular baker had surpassed her chosen ones,” the former vestal replied as she took my hand and licked a dollop of apple tart off my finger.
“I want to learn to bake like this for you, Vander,” Ilandere said.
“Well, I sure wouldn’t mind,” I said. “I can afford to let one of my bodies get fat. Maybe someday we can come back here. Minna really liked you, and I bet she would be willing to take you on as her next apprentice.”
“Baking is hardly a suitable activity for a princess,” Elodette said through gritted teeth. “A princess should be training her herd, motivating them, coming in first at every race and winning every archery contest. Not kneading dough for a human man.”
Normally, Ilandere became downcast when her handmaiden scolded or reproached her for failing to live up to centaur ideals. But this time, the silvery blonde beauty just laughed, a sound like tinkling bells. “Haven’t you despaired of me by now and any potential that I ever had to be a halfway decent excuse for a centaur princess, Elodette?” she asked. It was a fair question. Sweet, sensitive little Ilandere was just about the opposite of the proud, stoic warrior type.
“No, and I never will, because I know you have it in you,” Elodette answered.
“Well, I’m sure the rest of the herd has forgotten about me by now,” Ilandere said. “And my mother is probably glad I’m gone. She was always ashamed of me. But now I’ve found friends who love me for who I am, not for my bloodlines.”
“I know that the Queen could seem harsh at times--” Elodette began.
“Never mind, I don’t want to talk about her, or the herd,” Ilandere interrupted, which was another unusually assertive move on her part. Usually if someone tried to lecture her, whether it was her well-intentioned handmaiden or Lizzy being shamelessly rude, she just hung her head and assumed that she probably deserved it. “This is my herd now, my real herd.”
“As you wish, Princess,” Elodette sighed.
By that time we had finished all of Sol and Minna’s pastries down to the last crumb, and I was wondering whether we should continue on our way, or go back to buy some more apple pastries first. But then two teenage boys strolled toward the tree where we were all seated together, and they were engaged in a loud, animated conversation that caught the ear of one of my selves that was less focused on the centaurs’ exchange.
“He laid a wager that he could go for half an hour, and he only lasted two minutes flat,” one of them cackled. He had red hair and freckles.
“Figures,” his blond companion said. “Cocky bastard. Was he embarrassed in the morning?”
“Yeah tried to make all kinds of fucking excuses,” the redheaded boy replied.
“You’ve done it too, haven’t you?” the blond boy asked. “How long did you last?”
“Probably five minutes,” the redheaded boy said. “But I didn’t lay any wagers about it, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah about the same as me then,” the blond boy said.
“You wanna try together sometime, see if we can go any longer?” the redheaded boy asked.
“Sure, I don’t think it’s going to work that way, but maybe some night when we get bored,” his companion agreed. “We could get a whole group together. I think Dierdre was interested. She was saying some stuff about how we should try hanging ourselves upside down and burning ourselves with candle wax though which might be a bit extreme for me.”
“I dunno though, in some ways I think it really just illustrates the powerlessness of man against nature and the tenuousness of mortal existence, the futility of even trying to assert dominance over the void,” the blond boy sighed, which seemed a bit melodramatic to me.
The pair of them finally reached our tree then.
They looked at us curiously and became visibly flustered at the sight of my female companions. They glanced over Lizzy, Florenia, Ilandere, and Elodette, and then exchanged glances with each other that I guess they probably thought in their teenage minds were subtle.
“Hi, what are you all doing in town?” the redheaded boy squeaked. “You guys, uh, here for the goldens?”
“The what?” I asked.
“The golden apples, you here to try for them?” he asked as he finally tore his eyes away from Lizzy’s cleavage for long enough to glance at me. An expression of confusion crossed his freckled face. “Hey, whoa, you guys all, uh, brothers or something?”
“Something like that,” I said. “What golden apples are you talking about?”
“They really made of gold?” Lizzy asked hopefully.
“Nah, they’re worth gold though, the mayor will give you a solid gold apple if you catch the thief,” the redhead said. “Thought maybe that was what you came here for, a lot of out-of-towners do. Exotic types. I mean most of them don’t look like you all though.”
“We don’t know anything about any golden apples,” Ilandere said. “We just really like the regular ones.”
“Well, are you here long then?” the blond boy asked. His eyes kept creeping back over to Florenia, with her fine-featured face, luscious mouth, and willowy golden curves. “Maybe we could, um, show you around or something. I’m Zan.”
“Hold up,” Lizzy said. “What’s it about these gold apples?”
“Oh, it’s kind of silly,” the redheaded boy said. “It’s an impossible challenge. I wouldn’t waste my time if I were you. But there’s a tree in an orchard where the apples grow golden. Not yellow, but really, truly golden, but they’re not made of gold, they really are apples. And they taste better than any other apples in the world, but no one’s tasted them in months, cause they keep disappearing.”
“Yeah, that’s what Bill and I been talking about,” Zan said.
“Oh, that’s what you were talking about?” Florenia asked with surprise.
“Yes, of course, what did you think?” the blond teenager asked as he blushed red.
“Anyway,” redheaded Bill continued, “I probably ain’t explaining it that well, but the thing about these apples is, they only ripen overnight, so you can’t pluck them before then or they won’t be any good. And every night, any golden apples that were there disappear. But we don’t know who’s taking them, cause no one who stands watch in that particular orchard can ever seem to stay awake. It’s a curse or something. That’s why there's the reward to figure it out and catch the thief.”
“All right, we’ll do it,” Lizzy said.
“What?” I asked.
“We’ll nab their thief for ‘em and get the gold,” Lizzy clarified.
“I know what you meant,” I said. “I’m just not sure whether you remembered that we’re supposed to be on our way to save the temple of Tarlinis right now and then attack Thorvinius’ fortress in the Cliffs of Nadirizi after that.”
“Yeah, but we're on our way to save a temple that ain’t even been attacked yet, so we got time,” Lizzy said confidently. “That skinny lady that looked like she ain’t ever seen the sunlight said so.”
“Oh, please, please, Vander, let’s just stay one single night,” Ilandere cried out immediately. “Galeurn is the loveliest place with the kindest people that I’ve ever seen in my entire life. And they need our help to save their best apples!”
“This is a real easy challenge, it’d be a shame to pass it up,” Lizzy said. “We shouldn’t always be relying on the gnome to get us money at the gambling table, half the time that goes sourer than a dead cow’s milk.”
“Sounds like a bit more of an interesting one than usual I must admit,” Elodette said. “It doesn’t sound like a simple matter of combat, there’s some kind of psychological or physiological trick at work. I’d be rather curious to test ourselves against it.”
“We have a moral duty to illustrate to these young gentlemen, and their entire society, that man is not powerless against nature and can in fact assert dominance over the void if he tries hard enough and cleverly enough,” concluded Willobee, whose jade green eyes were lit up in the particular way that they only lit up when the gnome had pecuniary gain on the mind.