Grishel's Feather

by Guy Antibes

  It was plain to see, the prioress lived in the larger building. They trudged up the steps and walked inside. The doors opened into a chapel with a gilded statue of Grishel. He was represented in human form with a beak for a nose and mouth. A set of wings sprouted from his back, and Jack noticed his head was covered with small feathers rather than hair.

  “This way,” the monk said again and turned to his right and began climbing a wide stairway up to the next level. He showed them into a room with small windows facing the rear of the monastery. “You will wait here. There is food on that table. You may help yourself.” He turned around and left without another word.

  Helen walked directly to the food. “Get something in you,” she said to Penny but eyed Jack. “You need strength for whatever happens here.”

  “What will happen?” Penny asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jack said. “It all depends on the prioress, and I hope she is in a better mood than she was last night.”

  “This morning, you mean,” Helen said.

  Jack shrugged and followed Penny to the food. The fare was modest, as Jack would have expected for priests. There was some kind of porridge and bacon. Jack liked bacon, modest fare or not. Water was the only thing to drink.

  “Going a little heavy on the bacon?” Penny said.

  “It helps with the magic,” Jack said. He was lying of course, but Penny didn’t seem to know since, he hadn’t talked about it before.

  Penny took a few more slices of bacon, and they ate in silence, waiting for someone to show up in the room.

  Jack finished up before Helen. Penny looked to be half-done when the door opened. Myra was the first to enter, followed by two burly monks. Guards, in Jack’s mind, led her to a chair. She sat just before the prioress entered with an older man and an older woman.

  “This woman says you are thieves.”

  Penny spit out the water in her mouth. “Thieves? She is the leader of thieves,” Penny said. “Her two accomplices hired a band of thieves, the Nine Angry Men, to kill us.”

  “And what happened to them?” the male monk asked.

  “There are nine men who are no longer angry,” Helen said. “Her two friends have joined the bandits in whatever hell they deserved.”

  “Dead?” Myra said, looking shocked.

  Jack nodded.

  “There are only three of you,” Myra said.

  “Seven,” Jack said. We left Maltina with seven. One of our company, the hawk priest, tried to betray us, and another is recuperating in the village down the mountain a bit.”

  “Helen is a highly skilled mercenary. The other three are not without skill. Ferrio, the priest, kept out of the way. Penny did what she could.”

  “And you?” the prioress said.

  “I am a wizard of sorts.”

  “You have objects of power.”

  Jack flexed his wrists. No one thought to take his bracers. “No, you have them,” Jack said. “A sword with three imbued powers and a knife with two.”

  “The girl has two as well.”

  Jack nodded.

  “But they don’t exude the power of yours.”

  “I didn’t use them against you last night when I could have,” Jack said.

  The prioress pursed her lips and looked at her companions. “What do the priests and priestesses wear in Fassira?”

  Penny gave a better description than Jack ever could.

  “That matches with the bits and pieces from last night,” The prioress said. She pulled the note from the Fassiran church out and straightened it out on the table. “You have come for the feather. I will not give it up. It is a relic as important to us as the feather in Fassira. I will take you to it.”

  Jack nodded to Helen and followed the prioress out. They made their way to the next floor and walked through a large door. In the center of the room was another glass box secured to a stone plinth. It looked as impregnable as the feather in the capital.

  “We wouldn’t know how to remove the feather even if you asked.” The prioress looked at Myra. “You thought you would steal this from us?”

  The ex-priestess shook her head, but Jack didn’t know if she was disagreeing with the prioress or showing her frustration. It must have been a shock to Myra to realize that help wasn’t coming.

  “I want a verbal answer, Myra Pulini. Answer me.”

  Jack shivered at the coldness in the prioress’s voice.

  “I thought I would, but I am new to the monastery.”

  “New, and you’ll be old to the monastery when you leave these walls again.”

  Jack looked at the prioress. Did the woman intend that Helen, Penny, and he would share a similar fate? Jack walked up and put his hand on the feather to see what would happen. It floated, just like it had in Fassira.

  The two older people gasped.

  “Do that again,” the prioress said.

  Her tone wasn’t one of astonishment. Jack wondered if anything would surprise the woman. He repeated the process and introduced a little light into the chamber. There was a flash, and the feather drifted down to the bottom of the transparent cage. The barbs had burned, making the feather look more like a stick than a feather.

  “Uh oh,” Jack said. He backed away from the glass chamber. “I didn’t mean to do that. I, uh—”

  “Went too far, you fool,” Penny said, disgustedly. “What were you trying to do this time?”

  “I intended to put a little light in the chamber.”

  The prioress’s face turned red with rage. “Take them down to the cells where they will rot for the rest of their days.”

  The guards grabbed all three of them and led them away. Jack could hear the prioress berate Myra as they left the room. He didn’t know what would be worse, but now he had jeopardized saving Fasher. They put him in the same cell, by himself.

  Lunchtime came and went. As the sun was setting, the older man who had accompanied the prioress arrived bearing a tray of food. He stood in the room while Jack ate.

  “The feather isn’t burned, anymore.”

  Jack looked up after eating most of what was on the plate. “It isn’t?”

  The man shook his head. “It is a miracle. The first I’ve ever experienced. We think it is because you tried to use the feather.”

  “Why me?”

  Touching the glass is one thing, introducing male magic into the chamber is something else.”

  “I’ve never heard of male magic before,” Jack said.

  “You might not again. As far as we know, it is something Grishel doesn’t like. Men can’t become the top person at a major church or become a prior in a monastery.” His voice carried a tone of disgruntlement.

  “Doesn’t it irritate you?” Jack asked. It would him.

  “Sometimes, but generally no. I live to serve Grishel, and there are plenty of opportunities to do that. I don’t need to lead, and that is what the prioress lives for.”

  “If the feather is restored, then why am I still in the cell?”

  “Ah, that. The prioress is thinking about what to do with you. At the very least you will be expelled from the monastery.”

  “What about the third feather?” Jack asked.

  “The one supposedly in possession of the Black Finger Society?”

  “That is the one. It looks like that is my only hope. Both feathers are sealed behind thick glass. It’s obvious I can’t use my magic to free them, or they will be destroyed again.”

  The man looked through narrowed eyes at Jack. “I’m pleased you recognize that. If the prioress permits, we can give you approximate directions to where we think the Black Fingers keep the feather.”

  “Why would she object?”

  “Because if you are successful, you will remove one of Grishel’s relics out of Passoran.”

  “We can send it back. The feather is to be used to heal. Once the healing is over, we won’t need it anymore.”

  The man laughed, but Jack didn’t feel much humor. “The feather is a powerf
ul object of power. Who would give it back?”

  “I could,” Jack said. “I can make objects of power. I already have more than I need.”

  “You are just a boy,” the monk said. “Why should I believe any of your stories?”

  “I am a wizard’s helper. I imbued the weapons I carry on my own. I don’t need a feather. I’m not a healer anyway, and from what we’ve been told, it needs to be wielded by a woman. That is what Penny is for.”

  “You have thought this out, haven’t you?”

  Jack nodded. “We have to. Our friends are ill and need to be healed. We have already been gone for much too much time. Let us go, so we can retrieve the feather that is held by the Black Fingers, and I promise you will get the feather back.”

  “A promise from a man as young as you isn’t particularly reliable.”

  “For a chance at acquiring the third feather? What do you have to lose?” Jack said.

  The man put his hand to his chin and smiled. “Nothing that I can see.”

  “You won’t have to feed my friends or me.”

  “We will have a few of our monks accompany you.”

  “You don’t have to consult with the prioress?”

  The man pursed smiling lips. “Not for everything. We will see what your two female friends have to say. Finish up.”

  Jack didn’t take too much time to finish the food. He had most of it eaten before they started talking. He followed the monk farther on down the corridor, picking up the two guards that had stood outside Jack’s cell when they talked. Another pair stood at another cell.

  “We can go in?” the old monk asked.

  The guard-monk shrugged. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

  The door was pushed open. The prioress sat on a bed talking to Helen and Penny sitting on the other. They had finished their meal as well.

  The prioress looked up at the older monk. “Well?”

  “The boy said he would promise to return any feather recovered from the Black Finger Society.”

  “You did?” Penny said. “I didn’t think you could give up an object of power.”

  Helen shrugged, indicating she didn’t agree with Penny, but she wouldn’t disagree with the girl.

  “I will. Our errand can’t be delayed much longer,” Jack said. “I’m not interested in a feather that I can’t use anyway.” He gave Penny a quick smile. Jack turned to the prioress. “I even agreed to have minders come along.”

  “He did, prioress,” the old monk said.

  “Then you will go along and mind,” the head of the monastery said. “Maybe you can even find a way to help him.” The prioress sighed. “Grishel knows he needs the help.” She peered at Jack. “Just be thankful Grishel restored our feather. That in itself is a miracle. I will forget about your role in it requiring restoration in the first place. We will provide you with supplies, and Addio can help you determine where the feather is being held to the south.”

  “Addio?” Helen asked.

  “That’s me. We can introduce ourselves once we head south,” the old monk said.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ~

  “W e didn’t come out with the feather,” Jack said to Ferrio, who still hung around the camp while the Torito brother and sister broke their camp. “I won’t permit you to travel with us—”

  “And if we catch you,” Carlo squeezed his fist, “we won’t let you off with just a verbal warning.”

  “We all mean it. You can’t expect us to welcome you back into our group when you have proven yourself to be a thief and an impersonator. I can’t forgive you,” Jack said.

  “Neither can I,” Helen said. “I had to spend two nights in a cell because of you. Head north and don’t try to circle back. I am a very good scout and can’t think of a better way to let my sword have a drink should I find you.”

  “Drink?” Ferrio said. At least he looked intimidated.

  “Blood. Drink your blood, man,” Barria said, shaking her head and cinching up her saddle.

  Ferrio took a step back. “I will be on my way.”

  He mounted and headed down the slope.

  “He will follow us,” Carlo said, “and when he does…” Carlo slammed his fist into this palm.

  “We won’t stop you,” Addio said. “I’m Addio Barumi. I am the claustral prior, number two in the monastery. I’m such a pain in the rear for the prioress that I’m sure she wanted me out of the monastery for a rest.”

  “Why are you such a pain?” Helen asked.

  “You will find out soon enough, young lady,” Addio said. They all exchanged names. Bracco and Tunno were the two guards’ names. They wore swords and looked like they knew how to use them. Addio looked at the two muscular monks that had accompanied him. “I suggest you get to know Helen Rafter and Carlo.”

  “What about me?” Barria said.

  “And Barria, of course,” Helen said.

  Addio smiled at the woman.

  “How much magic do you know?” Jack asked.

  “Enough. Bracco and Tunno know a few First Manipulations, but they aren’t much past that. They can throw pulses of flame and weak wizard bolts, just enough to distract anyone that needs distraction. They are excellent with mundane weapons.”

  “And you?”

  Addio smiled a bit too confidently for Jack’s taste. “I can do a few Fourth Manipulations, but they aren’t really permitted. The priests in nearly all faiths have restrictions.”

  “I already know that. I’m familiar with Alderach’s and Eldora’s restrictions. Yours are the same, so I figured it was universal.”

  “Not quite universal, young man. The priesthood of Borigore in Kadellia permits more than is appropriate.”

  “What about the Black Fingers? Have you fought them before?”

  “Fight?” Addio laughed and shook his head. “Fighting is not for me. The Black Fingers in Passoran are mild-mannered compared to other countries. I am hoping we can work out something acceptable to us both.”

  “But the prioress wants the feather. We do the work, and she gets the relic,” Jack said.

  Addio shrugged. “You were just freed from the monastery. It is a small price to pay for what you did.” He smiled at Jack.

  Jack wanted to trust the man, but he felt Addio had an agenda of his own. He would have to deal with that since he suspected Addio was a strong wizard if he had toyed with Fourth Manipulation spells. Why did he get hooked up with churchmen who sought out to be so strong?

  The feather had restored itself. Was that another sign from Grishel? Jack didn’t discount signs like he would have done before he traveled on his first errand for Fasher. Jack put aside his misgivings since he was out of the monastery. They were about to start their trip to the location of the third feather, and the weather was nice.

  If what Addio said was true, and the Black Finger society wasn’t so militant, Jack might create an object of power or two to leave behind in trade.

  They all mounted. Tunno led them over a small pass to the west of the monastery and then down into a set of rolling hills at the foot of the mountain range that separated Corand and Passoran.

  A village showed up, not much more than a bump on the road, but large enough with an inn with dormitories to shelter them at night. Addio said many small inns had two dormitories rather than separate rooms. The practice was unique to the western foothills of Passoran.

  Jack kept himself armed as he descended the stairs. The day was amiable enough between the monks, the Toritos, and the Corandians, but Jack didn’t want to take any chances. He wanted to get to where the Black Fingers were keeping the feather, get possession of it, and leave for Corand.

  He was the first to arrive and sat down. An old man lacking any visible teeth smacked his sunken lips after each swallow of his ale.

  “You with the monks?” the man asked.

  “They are with me,” Jack said with a smile. “We are headed south.”

  “Black Finger country?” the man asked. />
  “Is there a country named Black Finger?” Jack said.

  The old man chuckled. “Pretty much. A pesky bunch. I used to have a farm twenty leagues to the south, but they bought it from me. I have a sister here to take care of.”

  “Or is she taking care of you?” Jack said, amiably.

  The old man gave Jack a toothless smile. “You might have it right.”

  “I’m heading there to buy or barter something from them. Do you know where they congregate?”

  “The Grishel’s Cavern, it is called. Their headquarters were built into the side of a mountain.”

  “Is it hard to find?”

  The man chuckled again. “Grishel’s beak, no! Just take this road south and ask the first Black Finger you find. There is plenty to run into not that far from here.” He took another swig and smacked his lips another time. A portly woman marched into the common room.

  “I knew you’d be here!” She grabbed him by the ear and led him out of the room.

  The innkeeper came as soon as Helen, Barria, and Penny joined Jack. They were able to see the old man’s exit.

  “Don’t pay attention to Rubio. He was kicked off his son’s farm and has to live with his sister.” The innkeeper sighed. “He leads a restricted life. I haven’t seen him for a few weeks.” He peered into the mug. “At least he got to finish his ale this time.”

  He took orders for drinks, and since only one item was offered, the innkeeper left to bring bowls of goat stew for eight.

  “Do you have a map of the south?” Jack asked Addio.

  “I do,” the monk said. “In fact, I thought we could look it over during our dinner.”

  He pulled out a well-used parchment and flopped it open. Addio pointed to the monastery. He squinted a bit and leaned back to focus on the map. “The village is this circle. Villages are circles and towns are squares.”

  Jack looked across the table. “Where are we headed?”

  “Somewhere down here,” Addio pointed some distance to the south of a diamond with a Grishel’s Cavern notation.