by B. K. Boes
“In this case, where you can find no severed or punctured vessel, simply close the wound.” He placed his fingers on either side of Jerg’s arm and pinched until the hole was mostly closed, though it still bled. He pressed the flat of his dagger against the hole, and Jerg’s body jerked once more.
“Now you see why an arrow through the arm is punishment enough for failing this test.” General Vordon stood, poured a bit of his water onto the little fire, and met Anakai’s eye. “You and Jerg share a living space, yes?”
Anakai nodded.
“You have finished your test, so you may take your friend to the infirmary, if you think you can carry him. The physician will give you instructions. If you want your friend to keep his arm and live, follow them carefully.”
“Yes, General Vordon,” Anakai said.
Jerg was smaller than Anakai, and he was able to drag Jerg out of the way easily. The others returned to the test as Anakai tried to wake his friend. It took a few slaps to the face, but Jerg eventually gained consciousness, though barely.
“You have to lean on me. I’ll get you to the physician,” Anakai said. “Come on, Jerg.”
Jerg met Anakai’s eye but didn’t speak. He hooked his arm around Anakai’s shoulder, and Anakai tried to take most of the weight on himself as he half dragged Jerg through the canyons to the slave-son physician. He hadn’t prayed to his mother’s god in a long time, but he found himself begging the Sustainer to let Jerg live.
He’s my brother. I need him. Let him live.
As the word brother rolled around in his head, it took on a deeper meaning than it had before. He meant it beyond the brotherhood of slave-sons. Jerg was family. And Anakai didn’t know if he wanted to survive the canyons without him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jabin
Yllin Agricultural Estate, Eikon
6th Cycle of Chenack
989 Post Schism
Farmer’s cottages dotted the yellowed grass beyond the halfway harvested urakma fields. As Jabin and his father approached the tenant homes on the Yllin Agricultural Estate, Jabin wondered what it would be like to have a simpler life. Ahead, a group of boys around Jabin’s age raced across the modest dirt road and into the clearing beside the cottages. It was likely they’d spent most of their day in the fields with their fathers, but now they were free as birds in the sky. They passed a woman hanging laundry on a line strung between poles. A few younger girls sat in the doorway of another home, giggling together.
These people have something special. They work, they play, and they love. That’s it.
Abner pulled his pikkan stallion to a stop in front of a thatched-roof cottage with blue shutters. A short tree with wide reaching branches stood beside it, the sun casting a pattern of shadows through sparse leaves and limbs.
“Are you ready to tell me what we’re hear for?” Jabin asked as he reigned in his own mount. His father had simply ordered Jabin to follow, and he’d obeyed.
“Are you ready to listen?”
Jabin nodded. “Yes, Father.”
Abner folded his hands on the horn of his saddle and looked toward the cottage where a little girl now peered sheepishly out of a window. “One of our tenant farmers has been falling behind. Something about an illness. There’s a delicate balance here. We don’t want him and his family to resent us, but we need him to catch up, no matter his personal circumstances.”
“I understand.” Jabin followed suit as his father dismounted.
Since their agreement was made three cycles before, his father had begun bringing him to meetings like this. He’d begun talking more often to Jabin about the estate’s finances and the way things were managed. He wished Jabin to see the life he wanted for him. One filled with respect, land, and privilege.
If it weren’t for the visions, Jabin would have been happy with the life his father had laid out for him. He loved to meet with Oracle Lan outside of describing his visions, and an heir to an estate would have time for such things. The old man helped Jabin learn how to cope with the visions, how to remember the details. How to heighten his awareness inside the dream-like state so his waking mind could recall the important parts. But Oracle Lan was also educating Jabin in church history and prophetic writings. Jabin would have enjoyed those lessons no matter his gifting.
His latest vision had been disturbing. As soon as his father was finished with him, Jabin planned to go to Oracle Lan. A sense of dissonance settled as he followed his father into the little cottage. He smiled at the family there, listened to the conversation, all with the picture of a man hanging lifeless in the back of his mind.
At almost twelve years of age, he’d seen more gruesome deaths than many grown men. He’d also been able to help stop many of those things from happening. It was exhilarating and terrible. Though he kept his gift to himself, ever since he’d started going to the oracle in the daylight people were beginning to suspect and rumors were spreading about Lord Yllin’s gifted son. Tenants and villagers would watch him, sometimes asking if he had a word from the Sustainer for them to hear. Of course, if he had it would have been concerning someone’s death, but he didn’t tell them that. Instead, he tried to avoid them. Oracle Lan wanted him to remain humble, and his father wanted him to be known as a lord, not an oracle.
When his duties with his father were done, Jabin set off toward the sanctuary. His father’s estate was large. Besides the Yllin family house and the many fields, there was a smattering of cottages and small shops. All of them belonged to Jabin’s father, except the sanctuary. No man could own a sanctuary in Eikon or the land it was on. Even Jabin’s father, an apathetic believer at best, couldn’t turn up his nose at the Sustainer. It was his duty to ensure his tenants had access to a place of worship. Long ago, a small plot of land was given to the Temple of the Sustainer, and one of Jabin’s ancestors had built the sanctuary, an extension of the Temple and a place of worship for the locals. Abner Yllin provided a hefty offering, and all appearances were kept up appropriately.
The single dirt road through the small village ended at the iron fence of the sanctuary. A stone path passed a wisdom tree on its way up a small hill. Jabin paused to look at it, saying a prayer for wisdom as Oracle Lan had taught him.
The tree was the largest Jabin had ever seen. It was meticulously cared for. As a young tree, it would have had black, waxy leaves adorning its dark branches. But as a wisdom tree grew with time, its leaves turned a silvery-gray and its bark became smooth, often compared to obsidian. When the sun’s light hit the tree just right, the leaves sparkled from a distance, like stars in broad daylight.
A wisdom tree was said to provide peace for those who sought the Sustainer under its branches. It reminded the young to heed the advice of the old, and it beckoned the elderly to shade the young from the harsh rays of recklessness. Worshippers sought guidance beneath a wisdom tree’s silvery boughs.
Several stone benches circled this particular tree. Its leaves caught the light here and there as the wind tousled the smaller branches. This time of year, violet blossoms added to its beauty.
“Hello?”
Jabin jumped a little at the unexpected voice and turned to find a girl behind him.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.
For a moment, the image of the hanging man disappeared completely. There was just him and a beautiful stranger under the wisdom tree. She was slight and a tad shorter than Jabin. Her long simple tunic, tied at the waist, was a golden yellow. A single chestnut braid lay over one shoulder, and large hazel-green eyes stared at him from under thick, curling lashes.
“Are you all right?” Her brow knit together, and she bit her lower lip.
Jabin cleared his throat, suddenly aware he should speak. “Yes,” he said quickly. “I’m fine. How are you?”
The girl smiled a little, bringing out the dimples of her cheeks. She looked to be at least a couple of years older than Jabin. “I’m just fine,” she said.
Jabin grasped for what to say. He wanted to
ask her name, to tell her she was pretty, to ask where she’d come from. He knew everyone who lived on his father’s estate, but he’d never seen her before. Instead of any of that, Jabin simply said, “Good. Fine is good.”
She chuckled a little. “My name is Mae. I’m Oracle Lan’s niece.”
“Oh!” Jabin’s purpose for coming here snapped back into place. “Oracle Lan. I’ve got to go see him. Excuse me.” He turned to leave, part of him simply wanting to flee the confusion that came with Mae’s presence.
“Wait.” Mae caught up to him quickly and walked beside him. “What’s your name? I’ve just arrived, and I don’t know anyone.”
Jabin avoided looking at her, as it seemed to help his brain function. “I’m Jabin.”
“Really?” Mae sounded genuinely surprised. “My uncle has told me all about you.”
“He has?” At first he was pleased, but then he could feel heat creep up his neck. “What has he told you?”
“All good things.”
He sighed with relief.
“He said your gift is incredible.”
Jabin stopped. “He told you about that?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t speak of it to many people.”
“To keep you humble?”
Jabin blushed. “Yes.”
Mae smiled. “He’s told me the same. I have visions, too, sometimes.”
“You do?” Jabin’s eyes went wide. Besides Oracle Lan, Jabin had never met anyone who understood what it was like to be chosen. To have a gift no sane person would want.
“I do. But not like you. They’re not as detailed, from what I understand. I only get pieces, and I haven’t been able to remember them well. Just words of wisdom, guidance, or warning. I’ll just be going about my day and have this déjà vu experience where I remember the vision and know what someone must hear.” She nodded toward the sanctuary. “Is my uncle expecting you?”
Jabin shook his head. “Not exactly. But he won’t be surprised to see me. I come often.”
“That’s lucky for me,” she said. “It will be nice to talk to someone like you. My uncle is so serious all the time. Everything’s a lesson for the troublemaker.”
“The who?”
“The troublemaker.” Mae winked. “That’s me.”
“You don’t seem that bad,” Jabin said, feeling his cheeks flush.
“It’s the Sozian in me,” she sighed. “My mother is Sozian, my father Eikonian.”
“How does that make you a troublemaker?” Jabin asked.
“Sozians don’t follow all the same rules when it comes to a lot of things,” Mae said.
“Like what?”
“Like, did you know all the prophecies you’ve been taught have other interpretations? Besides the one that the Temple promotes?” Mae asked.
“Sure,” Jabin said, “but there are whole scrolls that refute those interpretations. Oracle Lan has showed some to me.”
Mae shrugged. “There are plenty of scrolls and books that counter those refutations.”
Jabin didn’t know what to think about that. “Isn’t the Shal the head of the church? I mean, wouldn’t the Sustainer bring the truth to his attention?”
“That’s another thing Sozians disagree with,” Mae said. “The Sustainer is head of the church. Not the Shal.”
Jabin’s mouth dropped open, but he quickly snapped it shut.
The corners of Mae’s lips turned upward in a small smile. “Anyway, enough of that. My uncle would be furious if he found out that in less than a day I’ve already spouted my so-called rebellious beliefs.” She lightly elbowed Jabin’s arm. “It will be nice to talk with another young person who understands being chosen.”
“Oh, right.” Jabin held his breath. “How long are you staying?”
“I don’t know. A while. My uncle is going to train me, in both vision clarity and manners. My father wants me to conform to the right way. Then he’ll send me to the Temple once I’ve made some progress.” She folded her arms. “If I ever do make progress. On my visions, I mean. They’re weak.”
“I’m sure you will. The Sustainer doesn’t choose his oracles without purpose. He wouldn’t give you visions if he didn’t plan to use you to help people.”
“You sound like my uncle.” She smiled. “But I like the way you say it better. I guess you’re both right. My manners on the other hand…” Mae laughed as if there was really nothing anyone could do about that.
They reached the sanctuary door. Oracle Lan was in his study in one of the rooms at the back of the sanctuary. It was a small room, comfortable with two people, crowded with three. Jabin thought Mae would go elsewhere, but she followed him. He didn’t know how to tell her he needed to speak with Oracle Lan alone, so he figured he’d let her uncle do it for him.
Oracle Lan was meditating when they arrived, sitting cross-legged on the stone floor with a candle burning low, the curtains drawn over the only window. He looked up when they entered, as they let in light from the chapel.
“Ah!” He grinned at them both. “I see you’ve met.”
“Are you finished, Uncle? Or should we wait out here?” Mae asked.
“Oh, I’m finished. You may pull back the curtains.” He blew out his candle as Mae let in sunlight.
“Oracle Lan, I’m here because I’ve had a vision. I need to speak with you,” Jabin said.
“Yes, yes. Go ahead.” Oracle Lan stood and sat on a stone bench built into one of the walls.
Jabin looked at Mae, hesitant.
“It’s all right,” Oracle Lan said. “Mae will be training here for some time, and hearing how we work things out will help her a bit.”
A feeling of terror made Jabin stammer. He’d never explained a vision in detail to anyone besides Oracle Lan, and his mother that very first time. Visions were private, terrible things filled with images he wished he could forget. It was horrifying to think of speaking of such things in the presence of someone he barely knew.
“Really, Jabin,” Mae said gently. “Oracle Lan has shared his visions with me, and I’ve studied them. I know my own visions are lighter, easier to manage. But I also know visions can get… gruesome. I can handle it.”
Jabin took a deep breath. It seemed he had little choice. “It’s a man named Hosiah. He doesn’t live here. His wife and child recently joined the Sustainer. I saw him—” Jabin paused and decided to leave out the specific details. “I saw him hang himself.”
“Ah,” Oracle Lan sighed. “Poor soul. Do you know where?”
“In Patriphos. He lives in the city.” Jabin closed his eyes and bade the vision come to life. “He bought the rope at the Sune Market. It wasn’t a far walk back to his little house. The roof of it was thatched with hay. There was a flower in the window. Planted by his wife. It was white, with four round petals. He watered it before he tied the slip-knot.” Jabin opened his eyes.
“What’s a slip-knot?” Mae asked.
“The kind that slips up and down when pulled. Jabin somehow sees into the minds of people, sometimes. Picks up details he wouldn’t know from his own life. Quite remarkable.” Mae’s mouth dropped open as Oracle Lan scratched his chin and looked out the window. “So, this man’s been around fishermen or worked on a river barge hauling merchandise. And he lives in one of the Hay Hovels.” Oracle Lan thought for a moment. “The flower, do you remember its smell?”
Jabin could almost smell it. “Sweet,” he said. “Like honey.”
“A peiyo, most likely. From Eunoya. You say his wife planted it?”
Another nod.
“And how much time do we have?”
“There were signs in the market. They were very clear. Drew my attention. Not all the vendors had them, just a few, saying they would be closed over the Holy Day. I think it triggered a hesitancy in Hosiah. He thought he should go to the sanctuary before carrying out his plan, but I don’t think he did.”
“You think it was the day before the next Holy Day?”
“That’s
the feeling I got, yes.”
Mae’s wide-eyed stare made Jabin uncomfortable.
“You remember all that? Uncle, do you remember so many details?”
“Not like Jabin, no. His are especially strong. The way he hears thoughts…” Oracle Lan trailed off and thought for a moment. “In any case, I’ll contact the sanctuary on the west side of Patriphos. If he attends regularly, someone should know him. A sea or river man with a wife from Eunoya. Wife and child recently passed on. Living in the Hay Hovels. The name is common enough, but the other details should give them plenty to go off of.”
Jabin breathed a sigh of relief. “You’ll let me know when they stop him?”
Oracle Lan nodded. “If they do, I will let you know.”
That was always his response. And if he said nothing, Jabin would know his vision wasn’t enough. That whoever had been sent to help hadn’t gotten through to this man longing to see his family again.
“Thank you, Oracle Lan.” Jabin bowed his head. “I will be by in a few days for my next lesson.”
“You did well, Jabin.” Oracle Lan placed a hand on Jabin’s shoulder. “You’ve done everything you could.” He looked to his niece. “Mae, will you walk Jabin to the gate? I’ve got a letter to send.”
“Of course.” Mae walked with Jabin outside the sanctuary. When they were back on the stone path, she laughed. “That was amazing! I’ve never seen anything like it. I can’t remember a quarter of what you do. You remember scents?”
Her enthusiasm grated against Jabin’s memory of Hosiah’s death. “It’s not amazing, Mae. It’s terrible.”
She frowned. “What do you mean? You’ve probably saved a man’s life! Don’t you find it exciting?”
Jabin turned on her, unexpected anger boiling over. “Exciting? If he lives or dies, I’ll always remember the look in his eyes as he dug his fingernails into his throat trying to loosen that knot.”
Mae turned white and stepped back. “I… I’m sorry,” she said. “My visions fade so quickly.”
“And what kind of details do you see, Mae, while they’re fresh?” Jabin knew he shouldn’t shout. He knew she didn’t know. But he couldn’t laugh and shrug it off. There were too many images stuck in his head forever.