Servants and Followers

by Courtney Bowen

  “Maybe you shouldn’t do this.” Brigga said. “Leave Smidge alone for now until you’re certain about his guilt and crimes.”

  “But what if he does something horrible, even worse than what he’s done to you or anyone else?” Old Man asked.

  “Then you can handle him without any remorse. But for now, I think you should let him be. Keep your eye on him and make sure he doesn’t do any harm, but otherwise, let him go.”

  “If you’re certain, I might consider, but he’s still a risk. I can’t let him harm you or anyone else again.”

  “I understand, and he won’t if you’re there. Personally, I worry about Habala.” Brigga folded more clothes over the line. “She’s in the middle of all this. I think she’s a little paranoid. If Smidge is a Follower of Doomba, then what about Geda? He isn’t, of course, right?”

  “No, Geda never fell in with such a bad crowd as Smidge did. It was Smidge’s choice alone to become a Follower of Doomba.”

  “I suppose. Habala was my best friend growing up here. But then things changed, we changed, and we split apart. I never got her to understand why I did what I did with you and Nisa being born out of it.” Brigga paused.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “I thought she’d know that what I did was for the best.” Brigga smiled, reminiscing. “But she was so confused with her own life, as was I. We split because we couldn’t reconcile the differences. I wish it wasn’t like this, but it was, so we remained like this for years. But now circumstances have forced me back into her life, and she doesn’t like it one bit. I’m just as hesitant as well, considering what she’s done. But I hope, one day, she’ll come to see me in a better light and I’ll see her, too. I hope we can be friends again.”

  “I hope so too.” They weren’t just talking about Habala and Brigga anymore. He glanced up. “Well, I’d better be off.”

  “Take care.” Brigga didn’t look back at him.

  “You know I will. Take care.” He left and Brigga continued to hang up laundry, wiping away some drying tears.

  * * * *

  Habala cooked breakfast with her magical fire powers, which she was still ‘rediscovering.’ She hadn’t forgotten them, she’d just tried to block them for all these years. The last time she’d used her powers before burning down her clock workshop was the night Dorvina, Geda and Smidge’s sister, had died.

  “Geda, Habala, the mayor’s out running naked on main street again,” Brigga pointed out as she came inside. “Something’s got to be done about it.”

  “I’ll take a look,” Geda sighed as the mayor sung a bawdy song in front of their inn. “I think he’s losing it, not that I blame him. He’s got a lot to deal with.”

  “Do you think he’ll get re-elected?” Brigga asked.

  “I doubt it, with his behavior so bad and visible. I suppose we’ll have a new mayor this year.”

  “The first new mayor in fifteen years.” Habala said. “Maybe you should run, Geda.”

  “No, don’t ask me to.” Geda strode out.

  “But it’s a great idea! Habala?” Brigga asked.

  Habala sighed. “There’s no point trying to talk to him. He won’t listen.”

  “I mean, what about you running for mayor?”

  “Me? I’m just the innkeeper’s wife.”

  “Everyone likes you. You should try.”

  “I don’t know, I’ll think about it.” Habala said.

  Despite Habala’s reluctance to believe Smidge could be a Follower of Doomba, they’d gotten close. Now it seemed they were working together as friends, though there was no mention of Smidge.

  Brigga followed Habala’s taciturn example, the only sore point they had. But one of these days she’d pursue the topic, if only to prove Smidge was one.

  Perhaps she shouldn’t have suggested Geda should run, Habala thought. He was depressed after what happened with his brother, but Geda could make a good mayor, possibly the best candidate they had here.

  It was difficult for things to get back to normal, but perhaps a change, something to live for besides the inn, to give them hope, might stir their hearts. The inn wasn’t enough to protect them. They were falling apart.

  Habala wiped her eyes. Besides the Oracle of Mila worshippers, Mirari the healer had also come early this year to get a start on taking care of some of her patients, according to her. Habala hadn’t quite understood that, but she supposed it was a good thing.

  She wouldn’t start to question everything else in her life, or else things really would fall apart even more. She went back to cooking, knowing her husband would come back to help serve. He always did come back.

  * * * *

  Lapo the merchant was walking down main street with his wife Mawen when the mayor raced by them naked. “Third time in a month,” Mawen shook her head. “He doesn’t even look that good. Do you think people are going to stand for much more of this?”

  “No, I don’t think so. Why even stand for it one time? People deserve better than this. Might be time for a change.” He smiled, already giving a campaign speech.

  “Oh, my dear Lappie!” Mawen laughed, clapping her hands. “I knew you had it in you! People deserve better, and you’re the best they’re going to get! You deserve to win, and no one will stand against you.”

  “I can think of a few people who might,” Lapo stared after Geda racing to catch up with the mayor.

  “Him? No, he’s nothing. No one will vote for him except for a couple of drunks. You’re going to win, my dear. The majority loves and respects you. You’ve earned that.”

  “Thank you, Mawenie.” Lapo kissed her. “I’ll be certain to give you that inn you’ve always wanted once I’m elected.”

  “We’re going to win, and crush The Smiling Stallion inn!” Mawen laughed, and kissed him hard with a foot raised behind her.

  * * * *

  Geda caught up with the mayor, and managed to grab him, though gingerly to avoid touching any private parts. He escorted the mayor back to town hall.

  “‘So away with ye, away with ye, do-we-do-we-do-we!’” The mayor sang, “To the land flowing with’…uh, what goes there, Geda? What finishes the song?”

  “Uh, sounds like … maybe milk and honey, though that doesn’t make sense. Where does milk flow like water, and honey? Preposterous.”

  “It’s a song, it doesn’t have to mean anything. Something’s got to flow, so…beer! Beer and milk, does that sound better? Or wine, women, and song! Now that does sound better!”

  “Whatever makes you happy.” Geda sighed.

  He’d spent almost thirty years dealing with drunkards and their messes and tirades. You either had to keep them happy until they departed, full of beer until they passed out, sober enough that they would stop drinking, or cut them off entirely. The third and fourth options were perhaps the easiest, but less beer would be sold. On the other hand, it did mean less drunkenness.

  “‘Away with ye, away with ye, where are we going, Geda?’” The mayor asked in song.

  “Back to town hall. I don’t know where you live.”

  “Balderdash balnor! I don’t want to go back there! I’m sick of being straight-laced, white as a feather, clean and…blah. Leaves a bad taste.” The mayor stuck out his tongue. “Plagued by every problem this town has to offer and then some, with the factory owners, baron, and Lapo influencing everything. I want to run loose and free!” The mayor nearly ran off again before Geda grabbed him. “Let someone else take care of it!”

  “Mayor, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you’ll like being forced to step down. I know you complain, but you’re drunk and deep down, I know you still like being mayor. Why else would you run?”

  “Because no one else would take it, but this is perfect! If someone else takes my office, I can run free!”

  “Not just yet!” Geda restrained the mayor from running off yet again. “You’re not out of office yet. You’re still mayor until someone else is elected. And then you’re an ordinary citizen who has
to abide by the rules, and that means no running naked through the streets! You can still run free inside your house, or maybe in the woods.”

  “Good to know. By the way, are you considering running for mayor?”

  “No.”

  “Well, don’t do it!” The mayor cried. “Worst mistake I ever made. I got saddled with all of these problems, then I had to roll over for the baron, Lapo, and the factory owners. They chewed and spit me out! I wasn’t strong enough to handle everything. I broke, it fell apart. Don’t do it, Geda, you may regret it.”

  “I won’t, but surely you’d miss it?”

  “Geda,” The mayor sighed, then stopped a moment to think. “If you do consider running for mayor, you’ve got to be strong and flexible. Bend the knee, yet not yield to those who would prevail against you. You’ve got to deal with the worst and the best, the kindest and the meanest, the weakest and the toughest, the highest and the lowest, the smartest and the dumbest, the most gallant and fiendish people, and they’re all your people. Even those who didn’t vote for you! You accommodate them as well as yourself. Give them everything they want, and don’t give them anything. You decide who’s lying and cheating on you and your people, and sometimes you lie and cheat as well. You—”

  “I get it, I do enough of that already as innkeeper.” Geda raised his hands as they approached town hall.

  It was the first time Geda had been back in the town square area since he and the barflies had carted Smidge off to jail a couple days ago. He didn’t look at the courthouse, under which Smidge was sequestered, for fear of seeing his face peering between the bars.

  He knew what it was like down there, for over eight years ago, he’d been arrested after getting embroiled in a brawl with Lapo in which the merchant had gotten away clean. He’d sat alone in his jail cell underneath the courthouse, feeling sorry and angry at the merchant.

  Then he’d heard two small voices calling, “Father. Father.” He’d looked up, and saw Basha and Oaka peering in through the bars.

  “What’re you two doing here?” He asked, embarrassed they saw him like this. “It’s past your bedtimes.”

  “We’re not sleepy, we wanted to be with you.” Oaka clutched the bars. “Mother knows we’re here.”

  “Does she really?” Geda asked, eyebrows raised until Oaka looked away.

  “I’m sorry you wound up in there.” Basha lowered his head.

  “It’s not your fault.” Geda sighed. “Lapo’s to blame, and you boys make me so proud to be your father. I’m so sorry this had to happen.”

  The boys stayed by his window through most of the night, until he woke them up and told them to go back home. He’d been proud of them as ashamed as he was with himself, but now with Smidge…there was nothing there, guilty as the man was, and as ashamed and sorrowful as he could be for Smidge’s behavior.

  “Oh, right.” The mayor said.

  * * * *

  The Old Man couldn’t help laughing as he crouched in an alleyway not far from where Geda and the mayor were, though he suppressed the sound. One good thing about being immortal and furtive was you could see a lot more of the people and world around you, learn everything about them, and see the humorous side as well.

  He stopped laughing when he heard someone approach from the forest. He tried to hide until a voice hissed, “Old Man.”

  “Iibala?”

  “That’s me.” She came over.

  “You’re almost as good as my daughter Nisa when it comes to sneaking around.”

  “I made too much noise again, didn’t I? She commented on that.”

  “Yes, how’d you know I was here? You couldn’t have spotted me like you’ve spotted Nisa before.”

  “You’re right about that. I’ve this sense of death, strongest around those who are going to die, dying, or dead. But sometimes I feel a faint, constant background noise, as everything and everyone is going to die eventually. But with you, and to a significantly lesser extent, Nisa, it’s a void.”

  “A void as in ‘no death?’”

  “I can’t sense death around you because you don’t die. And though Nisa’s part mortal, she carries a smaller void with her, but a void nonetheless.”

  “I guess you can say that. What do you want?”

  “When Kala came, you were there, and you weren’t sleeping. I was so stunned I couldn’t stay to speak with you, but I still want to talk.”

  “What more is there to say? You know so much more about what is happening here than many others.”

  “I might know Basha is the tiger and I might know some of Kala’s story, but I still don’t know enough about you. What are your secrets, Old Man? What else are you hiding? And…” Iibala inhaled, and quickly asked, “Is there any way I can help you protect Basha, or do whatever else needs to be done in his absence?”

  The Old Man stopped, staring at her. “You’re serious?”

  “I’m serious. I want to help. Not that long ago, I despised both you and Nisa after I learned you both were putting Basha in danger, or at least letting him walk into it without interference.”

  “That’s partly true, but not entirely.”

  “But then I heard Kala, and I realized part of what you do is for Basha’s benefit. To prevent him from knowing too much as you watch over him from afar. I don’t agree with everything you and Nisa do, but I can see it’s somewhat necessary for his survival and sanity.”

  “It’s nice to know we’re appreciated.”

  “I’ve talked to Mirari the healer about training me and Sisila to use our powers. I haven’t told her anything about you.” Iibala added, in case Old Man got the wrong idea. “I want to be able to help, if my powers are useful in any way, especially since Nisa is gone, following after Basha and Oaka. You did send her after them, right?”

  “Right,” Old Man nodded, too stunned to say anything else.

  “Good to know. And you have a way to contact her?”

  “Yes, although we don’t do it that often. It takes a lot of magical power.”

  “If you need magical power, Sisila and I’ve got some to spare! When do you need us?”

  “Listen, I’ll contact you when I need your help, I promise.” Old Man held his hands up. “For now, everything is fine.”

  “My father was attacked, he isn’t well.” Iibala frowned.

  “I know, but currently, Basha and Oaka are well.” Old Man sighed. “It’s unfortunate, what happened to your father, but currently, I don’t need your help. If I need your, and Sisila’s, help, I’ll contact you. For now, I suggest you take care of your father, help him get well, and train. Improve your magical abilities.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s all you need to do for now. We’ve a handle on things, despite your father’s misfortune. I’ll contact you if I ever need anything.” He quickly left before Iibala could get another word in edgewise.

  Iibala frightened him, to be honest. She was an unknown quantity, a troublesome distraction interfering with his work or trying to get involved. She was even worse than Brigga and Nisa had been, combined.

  She wasn’t a Follower of Doomba trying to sabotage him, he was fairly certain of that. Although he’d been wrong before, especially with Smidge. For now, he’d steer clear of her, and hopefully she’d stay clear of him.

  Although he didn’t want to throw her off entirely, in case he did need her help. Old Man groaned, thinking it was so hard to interact with ordinary people. How did ordinary people do it every day? Of course, he needed more practice.

  Iibala was offended when Old Man left her. Why couldn’t Basha and Oaka have better guards, considering what they were up against? Why couldn’t Old Man and Nisa stop for a moment and realize what they were doing was wrong?

  Iibala didn’t have a clue what she’d do if she had to protect Basha from Doomba, but she certainly wouldn’t do what they did! She’d allow him some freedom from constant surveillance, and…she groaned, realizing such speculation was pointless. She wanted some reas
surance everything was well and would be normal again, but nothing ever was, and it was all so wrong.

  * * * *

  It was her first day working at the restaurant after being hired. Not exactly her dream job, but all of the shops were either not hiring or thought she wasn’t qualified enough. Basha probably would’ve said something funny about now. The restaurant would have to do. She wondered if Basha had ever tried to apply here.

  Jawen had moved in with Sisila a few days ago, after getting tired of hearing her father complain and insult Basha. She was adjusting to moving away from her family and living in a cramped cottage in the poorest part of town with a roommate.

  She just had to get used to it until it got better, somehow. Hopefully a good job might help, or any sort of job like this one.

  The bell hanging over the door, an annoying contraption she recognized instantly, rang and the hostess cried, “Customer! You better go serve him or her now!”

  She shooed Jawen towards the front of the restaurant. Jawen hurried forward and grabbed a menu, curtseying and smiling at Hastin, of all people, on her very first day. He looked particularly well, not groomed like he might’ve been if he’d expected to see her here. But perhaps he might’ve known, and was trying to downplay this.

  “Welcome, we’re so glad you could join us for breakfast,” Jawen managed to say, leading Hastin to a clean table with a smile still fixed upon her face. She wondered if Hastin was looking at her bottom when she couldn’t see him.

  “Did you see the mayor just now?” Hastin asked. “He was running around naked again this morning, until Geda caught him.”

  “No, I didn’t, though that probably wasn’t a savory sight.”