by M. Woodruff
There seemed to be some diffuse light coming from overhead—it certainly couldn’t have been coming from the candles—that put them in some kind of eerie spotlight; while the edge of the cave faded into a blackness so dark that when a servant suddenly appeared right beside him, Nels knocked over his stone cup. Looking up, all he could see was a solid cave ceiling, no opening for a possible source of light.
Javin saw his questing gaze. “You’re wondering where the extra light is coming from, yes?”
Nels shrugged. “Well…”
“Very perceptive of you. The light you see is not coming from the candles alone.” Javin clapped his hands twice and the diffuse light disappeared leaving them only in the glow of the flickering candles.
“I…How did you do that? Where was that light coming from?” Nels asked, wondering if this was some Illusionist’s slight-of-hand trick.
Javin tapped the side of his head with a finger. “It comes from up here. It is part of the gift.”
Nels opened his mouth then shut it. What was he to say to that cryptic remark?
Javin’s eyes danced with merriment in rhythm to the candles’ flames. His countenance transformed as his whole face lit up with the prospect of sharing his knowledge and for the first time Nels’ felt drawn to the man instead of being suspicious. He wanted to know what this man had to share. From Javin’s simple expression of delight his own natural curiosity had been ignited.
“Let me explain. It was my desire to have the dining hall illuminated a little bit more than candlelight can provide. To do that I simply visualized the effect I wanted and the light manifested as prescribed. To release it, I clapped, but that was not strictly necessary—it is more about the intent than the action.”
“So you’re saying if someone wanted to have a blue light emanating around us, all they would have to do would be to think about it?” Nels asked skeptically as he tried to do just that. Nothing.
“In theory, yes, but in practice, no. I have been studying this art for many, many years. I have retrained my mind to function on a higher level than most people are capable of right now. But, I do believe with study and guidance others would be able to accomplish much on the same level, as well. Casandra has made limited progress in the very short time I have been instructing her.”
As if on cue, a very faint blue light glowed around her momentarily before winking out. Casandra shrugged her shoulders. “Very limited, indeed.”
Nels couldn’t help but be impressed. “Casandra, I had no idea you could even do something like that. Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked quietly in subdued wonder. That brief blue aura around her had been beautiful to behold. It even eclipsed the traveling Portal she had opened up to him and the absurdity of Sandrid itself. There was something so poignant in the fact she had released a part of her spirit that then became a visual reflection he could actually witness.
“Oh, it was nothing really. I couldn’t even sustain it, not like Javin.” She blushed, giving her spiritual guide a sidelong glance.
“Don’t sell yourself short, Casandra. For a spontaneous creation in the midst of conversation, it was quite well done. I have had many years to practice, so casting the light for dinner was almost like a mere parlor trick for me.” Javin, suddenly looking like a wise father instead of a slick charlatan to Nels’ eyes, gave Casandra a tender pat on the hand.
“How did you sustain the light? I mean, surely you couldn’t continuously think about it to keep it going.”
“You release it. Once it has become fully created in your thoughts it takes on a life of its own, then you can stop focusing on it and it will remain until told otherwise. To put out the light, I just had to think of it ending and darkness; it is far easier to destroy than to create. The clapping was mostly for theatrics, but the abrupt noise also acted as a sword cutting the light off from its source; it helped me to focus quickly causing the light to vanish just as suddenly. So yes, a physical act to accompany your thought can be beneficial, especially when just starting out, which was why I was so impressed Casandra had created the light with thought only.
“That was your first time doing it that way, was it not, dear?”
Casandra smiled in acknowledgement. “Yes, it was! I didn’t even think about it.” She laughed. “Well, actually, that’s just it—I did just think about making a blue light without having to do any corresponding physical action to make it work. How about that!”
“You see? You are progressing. It is becoming more natural for you. Your mind is becoming more comfortable with the whole idea of the art of creation. You don’t need to rely on a physical act to help focus your thoughts or anchor your beliefs—it is becoming a part of you as your mind renews.”
“It? The art of creation? What is it exactly?” Nels asked over his grumbling stomach, suddenly ravenous.
Javin shook his head. “There are only a few of us—including you, Nels—who seem to have this power, gift, art, or whatever you choose to call it. With only a small number of people embarking on trying to understand what was happening, and learn what it means, we’ve only just begun to understand it. We all know what it is. It is the very framework of all of our worlds put together. But, it is hard to define a way of thought that produces physical results that has no factual history that I am aware of. After much research, I have found only stories, myths, or legends that may or may not be related to what we have actually experienced. This is all very new in relation to time eternal, even though I have been studying it for a very long time.”
“How long?” Nels asked.
“Time has no meaning for me anymore in specific terms. Who’s to say how long it’s been? We cannot correlate time between Sandrid and The Kingdom, for example. So why does it matter?”
“But surely you know how old you are?” Nels asked freely—men didn’t mind telling their age.
Javin gave a small smile and shook his head. “I have long since forgotten. I have seen friends and loved ones come and go; yet, I am still here and I look no older than you Nels. It used to be painful.” He got a faraway look in his eyes, gazing somewhere in the distance. “Now, however, I don’t get as close as I used to, to people.”
Apparently this one minded. Nels certainly didn’t believe Javin couldn’t remember his approximate age, at least.
“Don’t your friends notice? Haven’t people noticed you seem to be outliving everybody? How do you explain it?”
“With all the mysteries in Sandrid, my friend, people don’t find it odd. They usually invent their own explanations. Most commonly, that I have been touched by the gods, whichever one they prefer, of course. I’m not picky and I don’t dissuade them from their beliefs. It works out well for me, in the end.”
Nels wanted to ask more—so much more. But Javin suddenly announced dinner was to be served and a multitude of servants appeared out of nowhere bearing trays and pitchers. It seemed they each had their own server. Nels’ was a teenage boy who announced himself as Luka in a barely audible whisper, luckily the boy was short and his mouth was the same height as Nels’ ear, otherwise he would have never heard a word the boy said as he was supposed to guide Nels through the various culinary delights.
Luka was pretty much a waif. His presence was almost akin to an anti-presence, as if he was doing everything humanly possible to disappear from this world. Along with his breathy voice, his skin was almost translucent—even the veins Nels could see were devoid of any color, his hair was also without any pigment, and his eyes were a washed-out blue. Luka’s lips were such a pale pink they almost blended in with his skin. But at least they were a different enough hue for Nels to be able to see the boy give him a shy smile before draping a large brown dinner cloth over his chest and behind his neck. Luka fastened it in the back with what sounded like a metal clasp; Nels had never worn a dinner cloth before so he didn’t want to comment. He found in these types of situations it was best to pretend something like this was an every day occurrence.
Luka, belying his appea
rance, did have a sturdy hand Nels noticed, as he poured the dark purple beverage into the stone cup. Nels was a bit disappointed to see it wasn’t yellow and didn’t make a sound as it filled the cup.
“’Tis raven’s piss, sir,” Luka whispered in his ear.
Nels scrunched up his forehead, narrowing his eyes, surely that was just a name the locals gave the drink—like “Nectar of the Gods” wasn’t actually nectar of the gods, was it? He took a sip. It did have a bitter rather acidic taste that Nels concluded made it just a plain old, not-too-great, dry wine.
The first course was a soup served in a large hollowed-out rock; it was a broth with dark brown dumplings that had a delicious aroma of sweet and savory that made Nels’ mouth water.
“’Tis horse dung wrapped in rat skin, seasoned with orange peels from the scrap bin, sir,” Luka whispered.
Nels cocked his head looking up at the boy trying to gauge his sincerity. Luka remained staring straight ahead with a faint smile on his face—the picture of professional innocence.
Shrugging, Nels scooped a dumpling up with his spoon and popped the whole thing into his mouth. It really was quite good—probably a gently seasoned lamb with—yes, a hint of orange zest. He popped another one in his mouth, this time staring pointedly at Luka while murmuring “Mmm MMM.” The boy didn’t so much as glance at him.
“I’m glad you like the soup, Nels. We feed our lambs only the best mixture of plants and occasional grains to give their meat such a delightful flavor we don’t even have to season it,” Javin remarked around a mouthful of dumpling.
“Mmm MMM,” Nels opined again, when a thought suddenly occurred to him. “Wait! You said that I had the same gift as you and Casandra. What do you mean? I don’t have any gift,” Nels said slowly. “I’ve never even heard of any of this before. What makes you think I have it?” The lamb dumplings sitting on his stomach, now, just like horse dung and rotten garbage.
“I know you have it, Nels, because Grayson Scarlett told me some time ago,” Javin stated matter-of-factly.
“What? I don’t even know this Grayson Scarlett. How would she know I have some kind of gift?”
“She knows. She is also the one that told me about Casandra and instructed me to begin teaching her when she was old enough. I cannot tell you anymore—that right belongs to Grayson and she alone may bestow what she wishes to share about how she became aware of your gift. And I mean that literally, even if I did so desire to tell you, the words would not leave my mouth. I tried telling Casandra, but failed.
“It is not a prohibition from Grayson Scarlett herself. She was as unaware of it as I, until in trying to explain to Casandra how I found her, the words would not come. I took her to Silver Persia and there Grayson was able to show her what she needed to know about how her own gift came to be.”
Nels looked to Casandra for confirmation. She nodded.
“So I have to wait until I go to Silver Persia before I can learn anymore about this gift?”
“No, only how you awakened it, which then brought you to Grayson’s attention. She does not do much traveling, as she is the Jouel of Silver Persia—the equivalent of your king.”
“So let me get this straight,” Nels began, putting his elbows on the table and pointing with his fork, “You’re telling me I can make blue light appear around my head if I want or…I don’t know, maybe go flying around without a rug to sit on if I so wish it? You’ve got to be crazy! Yeah, I’ve seen a lot of weird stuff since I met Casandra and came here, but that’s nothing to do with me. I’m plain old Nels Hunter, woodsman guide! How would I have some mysterious power? And more importantly, why? I’m practically an old man, a nobody.”
He shook his head staring at Casandra plaintively, “Don’t you see? I was happy with my life for over thirty years—I was content at least—and now, I have no idea what’s going on and I don’t want to know what’s going on, if truth be told.
“You guys can go around playing with your gifts and lights and whatever. Leave me out of it!” Nels stood up scraping his chair against the rough stone floor. He was getting out here—Casandra or no Casandra.
“Nels wait,” she pleaded with large brown eyes glowing. “Don’t leave yet. Nobody will force you into anything. Stay and learn and explore. You’re not missing anything in The Kingdom; no one even realizes we’re gone. You were running from your previous life when I met you. I think you were running in the wrong direction then, but I think now you are running in the right direction. Don’t give up just because you’re scared, please.”
It wasn’t the “please” that did it. It was being called a coward. Nels Hunter was no coward. He might not be some worldly traveling sophisticate and that was perfectly fine by him, but he would never be thought of as some lily liver. If he ran—it was for the right reason. Afraid of a little blue light? Ha! Never! Afraid of flying carpets? Ha! Well she saw how fast he got over that!
He sat back down. “I’m still hungry.”
Javin clapped his hands twice, which made Nels wince. Hopefully, the man hadn’t decided to bar the doors so he couldn’t leave.
Instead, the background servants promptly removed the soup. Luka then placed a large mound of roasted meat, drizzled with a dark sauce, accompanied by sides of potatoes and pale-green beans, along with a small loaf of black bread on a stone plate in front of him.
“Fresh pig buttock topped with runny redbird feces and frog embryos, sir. The potatoes are locally grown in Saam Ernst’s bucolic manure pit; the bread was made by the famed leper baker, Levond, moments before she had to be quarantined again for her oozing pustules. You are fortunate to receive such a treat, her condition has deteriorated so much she may never bake another loaf.”
Nels gave Luka a good hard look then assessed the rest of the staff. Casandra’s server was a young girl that could have been Luka’s sister except for the fact her skin actually had a warm color to it. Her hair was a golden blonde and her eyes were a bright blue that sparkled merrily along with her rosy cheeks. Surely this girl wouldn’t be saying such foul things to Casandra.
Javin’s server was apparently the head chef. He was dressed in a white robe and wore a puffy large white hat. Over his large belly he wore a black apron that had strange symbols sewn along the edges. The two were laughing as old friends sharing a joke over a good meal.
Nels looked back at Luka who was once again staring straight ahead with that slight smile on his face. Nels eyed his plate—oh well, there was no help for it, and he was hungry after all.
The food was wonderful. It reminded him of the simple fare he would eat back in Parker’s Town at The Rickety Inn. He spared a sudden thought for Thom, wondering what time it was, if the tavern room was full of the regulars, with Thom laughing and joking, sharing his own warmth with all of his customers. And here he was. What would Thom think of all this? He loved a good tale even if he didn’t believe a word of it, and Nels was sure Thom would never believe a word of this one. True as it was.
The group ate their main course in silence. On his account, Nels was sure. No one wanted to upset him and have him throw a tantrum again. Well, he wouldn’t—he would be a gracious guest from now on. Far be it from him to act like a spoiled child. Yes, he would be the host of good manners from here on out.
Dinner was cleared away and Luka placed a piece of what Nels recognized to be a bitter-cream fruitcake in front of him, in a rather mangled condition. Glancing at Casandra and Javin’s pieces theirs were decorated with smooth icing with the fruit placed neatly on top. Nels’ was leaning over, most of the fruit dispersed on the plate or smooshed into the icing along with what looked to be finger indentations.
“A slice of bellfruit cake, sir,” Luka whispered. Nels waited. Nothing was forthcoming; Luka was back to staring.
Nels quietly cleared his throat.
“Ohh, a thousand pardons, sir,” Luka hissed, “I forgot to mention that I happened to find myself in the privy with your slice of cake and accidently dropped it on the floor.”
>
Nels gave a nod, took a large bite of cake, and said, “Thank you. It really is very tasty, Luka. My compliments.”
Bette was waiting for them in the shadows of the hallway. Nels had saved some of the leper’s bread loaf in his lap during the dinner—his next robe was going to have pockets. Casandra had done the same with the addition of a few bellfruit, Bette’s favorite. She somehow had pockets in her swath-of-fabric dress and the foresight of carrying a handkerchief had prevented any of the fruit’s juices from staining the silk.
“We’ll wait and feed her when we get back upstairs. I know Javin doesn’t mind that I spoil her, but it’s more fun to be secretive about it,” Casandra said, giving a conspiratorial grin.
“You know, I meant to ask Javin during dinner, but how in the world did he get a cave to be a dining room?” Nels had actually totally remembered to ask Javin during dinner, but once all the show-and-tell had been done, he was afraid he knew the answer and decided he’d rather hear it from Casandra.
“It’s the gift, Nels. He wanted a primitive, limited visual focus so diners’ attention would be riveted on the food. He didn’t want people evaluating the food above its measure just because the atmosphere was superb. He also didn’t want people devaluing the food if the décor wasn’t to their liking.”
“Couldn’t he just have had us eat in a completely dark space with one candle aglow? That would completely take away any atmosphere,” Nels remarked sardonically. That really hadn’t answered his question.
“Well yes, he could have,” Casandra answered slowly, “but I think the point was to give everyone a solid foundation in which to start while the food provided the experience. A completely dark area would give one the feeling of absence, which could be unnerving. Instead he wanted everyone to feel a fundamental security while they ate, something about primitive desires that spring from the heart of the ground that then give us comfort in its very solidity.”