The First Book of the Pure

Home > Other > The First Book of the Pure > Page 9
The First Book of the Pure Page 9

by Don Dewey


  As his host laughed Kenneth pictured his little girl, just four years old, and his son, three years old. What was it that made Susie and me call it quits? To this maniac my kids are just samples of a subnormal species. At least he sounds like some of them, Ruby maybe, would see them as wonderful, the way I see them. He realized that this man made him miss what he had lost, and that made it more precious.

  Chapter 21

  Ruby’s Return

  Comfortable in her loose fitting, linen clothing, with a ruby colored sash around her thin waist, Ruby was closing her shop for the night. Suddenly a man pounded on the door, claiming a need to see her tonight. Ah, everyone thinks they can’t wait until tomorrow. She was still as beautiful and desirable as ever, and since she sold herbal remedies and holistic medicines, people valued her opinions on some topics and other things which they considered essential. She was used to this kind of disruption, and was usually happy to help. She wasn’t particularly worried about harm to herself, with her abilities. I should just tell him that just because he felt urgent about something didn’t make it her problem. But, business is business.

  She unlocked her door, let him enter, and faced him. She was as charming as ever. “And how may I assist you, sir?” He was breathtakingly good looking, tall at about six feet, one inch, and seemed very sure of himself. She appreciated that, since she had met far too many men that were easily cowed. Of course, she had also met too many who were demanding and difficult. Her good mood began to dissipate. Maybe I’ve just known too many men. Still, she looked him over carefully, noting the slightly darker complexion than most had in this area.

  “You are Ruby, the seller of these wonderful medicines and such? I am An’Kahar, and I have tried long and hard to find you.”

  “I don’t know where you have looked sir, because I’ve been in this town most of my life. And just why are you trying to find this other Ruby person, if I might ask?” Now she was suspicious, and that translated into a very real, quiet danger for this man in her shop. She thought about the hidden weapons in her establishment and the three that were hidden on her person. While she had no doubt that this man couldn’t kill her, she didn’t intend to suffer pain or humiliation at anyone’s hands. If need be, he would find that out at the cost of his life, or worse. He wouldn’t be the first man she’d turned into a eunuch.

  “Well, in this town, in this lifetime I don’t doubt you, but you were Rubella before this, and I think Ruby before that. You must like your first name, your real name, which I suspect is Ruby. I’ve been seeking you for two hundred years, and I’m thrilled to have finally found you. Fear nothing from me, dear lady. I will gladly answer any questions you have. May we sit and be comfortable?”

  She realized that he knew too much, and while it seemed likely he was fishing for more, what he knew in the way of facts couldn’t be easily dismissed. Without finding out what he knew, she didn’t even think it wise to have him “disappear” during the night. First, at least, she must find out who he was, who sent him, and what was at stake. She locked the door, waved him to a table in the back, and sat across from him. Her hand slid under the table and touched the razor-sharp throwing star lightly attached to the bottom of the table at which they sat. She could dispatch this fool quickly enough if he proved to be a problem, or if he even might be a problem for her. Those she did not tolerate at all well. “You sound ridiculous. Two hundred years! What a story. And who are you to be living several men’s lifetimes?”

  “As I said, An’Kahar, my lady, and for some reason you and I share a long life. I’ve spent considerable sums to find and track such as we are, and I have to admit you’re the first I’ve actually met. Please don’t try to hide it. My agents were far too thorough for that. You’re Ruby, and since you’ve lived for at least three lifetimes I have to assume it could be more. No matter, you’re long-lived, as I am, and we have to hide it among the short-lived people of our race. Don’t you wish to talk freely with an equal?”

  She gave him a calculating look. “First, I think you’re trying to trick me with this dung heap of a story, and secondly, I’m quite contented with my life as it is.” Her grip tightened on the star she’d been caressing like a lover’s neck. She considered using the razor sharp weapon from under the table. Once it sliced into his groin he would at least be incapacitated, and likely would bleed to death quickly.

  “Well, I’m unwilling to be acquaintances until enough years have passed that we come to know each other well enough to see we really are alike. I’m willing to take more drastic action to prove my honorable intentions to you. You may go ahead and stab me with that blade you’ve hidden, or let me slowly extract my own and prove my tenacity for life.” He slowly took a thin, three inch blade from his sleeve, and without waiting for any untoward action on her part, dropped it on the table, and with his eyes he invited her to use it. She raised her eyebrows at this, stood and walked around the table to him. She didn’t hesitate. Before he could say anything else she quickly plunged his own blade into his shoulder, removing it in a fluid, practiced motion.

  As blood spurted out, he grabbed a nearby rag and staunched the bleeding. Gritting his teeth to the pain, he spoke through his clenched jaw. “Please allow me to stay the night, and by morning you’ll have your proof. I’ll be almost dead or I’ll be almost healed.” With a grimace he continued. “I suspect you know how much this hurts, and even though it will heal fairly quickly, I don’t enjoy it. Please, my lady.”

  “Well, stay then. Let’s see what you’re made of, sir.” She pulled out her own knife, cleverly hidden in a ribbon sheath that looked like part of her dress. “And if you’re almost dead in the morning, you’ll be finished by my hand, whether or not you think you can die. If you’re playing some elaborate hoax, I’ll show you that you can indeed lose your life. You’ll bleed out slowly from a deep slice in a very sensitive area of your body. Still want to play this game, or leave now and hope you survive? I have little use for men in general. I’ve seen too much abuse of women and children.” Her smile was icy.

  She was standing, and he was sitting in a small pool of his own blood. She casually tossed and imbedded the razor pointed star into the table before him, an inch away from the edge, and him. “Let’s get you bandaged up, and have a long visit by the fire. I think you might be more interesting than I first thought. You must try this exquisite tea.”

  He did, and twenty minutes later he was fast asleep, sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of the drugged. She looked down on the young looking, rakish stranger with his curly brown hair. She couldn’t help but wonder about him and what he might represent. She had seriously mixed feelings of curiosity, self-preservation and even, if she were to admit it, some loneliness. What shall I do with you? Or perhaps the question really is, what shall we do together, if you are who and what you say you are?

  Chapter 22

  Session 7

  The next two days were simply lost time for Kenneth. Nobody showed up but Bertram, and Kenneth’s motions around the house were severely limited. No pool use, no gym. He sat about, eating and typing when he felt like it. There was a television, quite a nice one. It was an enormous, state of the art technological marvel.

  The third day, as bored as he’d ever remembered being, in walked his host like nothing had happened and no time had passed. It just accentuated to Kenneth the reality of his situation: it was completely out of his control and he was in the uncomfortable position of being under someone else’s absolute power.

  His host started with no explanation of his absence, and certainly no apology. I guess I’m just to wait on his schedule, his reasons, his…hmm, I guess I am. Kenneth decided silence was the wisest course of action.

  “This next Pure is a conundrum to me. He seems totally disinterested in Pures, Normals, or anything else of real import. He just seems to live his life.”

  “And that seems odd to you?” Kenneth asked, the coolness in his voice hard to miss.

  His host ignored it completely,
however. “Well, yes. He has wealth now, but not then in the time I’m going to tell you about. He seems to be powerful, but he also seems to not care. Honestly, I don’t quite understand it.

  “But whatever his thought processes are, his history is important to the record of the Pures. He would be, in a different culture perhaps, a grand Statesman. But he doesn’t want such things.” He said it with a sense of disdain in his voice. “This is once again the eldest of us, when Gheret revived.”

  Chapter 23

  Gheret’s Second Return

  With no more explanation, the story moved on to the now familiar character of Gheret.

  When Gheret awoke after the avalanche, still lying on the rock shelf, he realized he hadn’t frozen to death. He released a low chuckle. Funny thing, I’ve been dead before. The snow around was light, and the deep shelf he’d sheltered on during the avalanche was now exposed on the edge. He peered out for a long time, wondering what was out there, when this was, and what the challenges would be. He also wondered what happened to the ice; there was certainly a lot of it when he’d settled in to die. Those challenges won’t come looking for me, so let’s get started. He used the knife he had retained to help him tediously and painfully climb the crevasse. Had it closed up while he was in it, he’d have been well and truly dead.

  Once out, he started toward the location of the closest settlement he remembered, not knowing if it was gone or if it had become a great town by now. The furs he had on had aged, and were clearly old now, and barely serviceable. When he saw the town ahead, large, walled, and with uniformed men watching all along it, he slowed and considered what the safest approach might be.

  He neared the open gate and was hailed by the soldier there in French. “Hey trapper, you wearing everything you trapped? Or are you just going on holiday?”

  Gheret stopped and considered the language, not being sure what it was. He answered in Inuit, hoping that the indigenous language was still spoken by some.

  “Indian, huh? You don’t look it,” answered the soldier in a kind of pigeon-Inuit. Gheret could understand though, and that was all that mattered. He told the soldier he’d been caught in an avalanche and then was lost. It had been months since he’d seen other people, and he asked if there was a place he could go for food and shelter. “Ay,” replied the soldier. “Go straight down this street till you see ‘Emmas’ on a sign. Wait, it’ll look like this.” The accommodating soldier squatted down and with his knife drew the rough letters for EMMAS in the dirt. “She’ll put you up, and I’m pretty sure she speaks Inuit. Good luck.”

  Gheret thanked him and continued on. As he walked the street to Emma’s he heard people speaking all around him. He realized that Inuit wasn’t spoken by many. Emma however, might know enough Inuit to be helpful.

  When he found and greeted her, she replied in Inuit. With that commonality he was able to explain his problem to this woman. She was of average height, and wouldn’t be considered a beauty by many, yet she exuded a warmth and attractiveness that transcended the physical. “I’ve nothing to trade for lodging and food. Perhaps I could work to cover it for now. I’ll find work quickly. I can do most anything, and I’m very strong.”

  Emma smiled at him, considering what she might do for this good looking stranger. “I really can’t afford to pay you anything, but there are some things that need doing around here.” A slight hesitation and her decision was made. “I’ll feed you and give you a room, if you’ll do a good day’s work for me.” She stuck her hand out, expecting a shake to seal the deal. Gheret just stared at it. She took his hand, gripped it with her own, and demonstrated a handshake. “This is a greeting, and a goodbye, and it also seals our agreement. You really are a stranger here, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, friend,” he said in Inuit. “Perhaps there’s someone who could teach me your language?”

  “Friend it is,” Emma replied. “I’ll be happy to teach you in the evenings, after dinner. I was once a teacher until I followed my idiot husband to this wilderness. He found his own way out with a bear, and here I remain.”

  “A bear?”

  “Yes,” Emma said with an odd smile. “It ate him.” She started laughing, a clear, pure laugh that was contagious. Finally stopping, she looked flushed and perhaps embarrassed. “Sorry, that must have seemed completely mad, or at least uncaring. He was a good man, but he was an idiot, and so very arrogant. In his stupid arrogance he chased a bear away from here into the woods. Unfortunately for him he did it with a stick. He thought the yelling and his aggressive demeanor would make the bear run. It did, until it decided it would rather eat him than be chased by him. Come,” she said, as if to change the subject, “and I’ll show you the wood pile. I need wood split pretty quickly since snow is coming. And it’s never anything but cold here.”

  Gheret thought it was pretty pleasant weather, but then he’d been frozen in a great ball of ice for a very long time. He followed her out and around the wooden slat board building. It had a long porch with a swing hanging from its roof. His first people slept in the open and later in caves, but had never built a dwelling. His last home had been an igloo. This is wonderful. This warm home suits Emma.

  The wood pile was enormous, and the axe dull. He said the Inuit word for “whetstone” and pantomimed rubbing something along the edge of the blade. She understood and handed him an oddly shaped one, made for an axe blade. “Best I have.” It was far better than the primitive tools he’d last used, so he gratefully took it and started stropping the blade.

  Later Emma came back outside and was amazed to see what Gheret had accomplished. He had a great pile of split wood stacked behind him, and was splitting thick log sections with one strong, downward sweep of the axe. She suspected firewood was not the only thing he’d used an axe on.

  “Stop! You’ve done more than I could have chopped in a week.”

  “How much is enough? This, or would you like more?”

  “There’s never enough wood ready for the fire, but this is plenty for now. Please stop, or you’ll make me feel guilty that all I can give you is food and shelter.”

  “That too, is plenty.” Gheret found it easy to smile at this kind woman.

  “Well, let’s clean up and I’ll have dinner ready shortly. Come into the house when you’re ready. The barn has water in it.”

  Gheret looked at the barn and realized she wanted him to prepare, and perhaps to shelter there. He cleaned up, wondering how to approach this woman about all that he needed to know. There was much, so much, that had happened over the course of who knew how many years, of which he simply knew absolutely nothing. And he must know, for to not know would make him less able to face the future.

  His thoughts lingered on Emma. This woman seems such a warm, kind-hearted person. I may enjoy this place and time after all. I think I could use a friend. As he had his past, he would conquer any future he must face. He’d always been his own man, and lived his life his own way. That wasn’t going to change in this new time. He went into the house resolved to learn from and to be gracious to this woman. But learn today’s world he must.

  Chapter 24

  M & R, Inc.

  Maximus and Robert were getting very good at all this, having time to plan and then test plans, execute plans and even time to hide for years when things went awry. They were at first unrestrained by moral codes or rules. They simply did whatever was expedient, and they usually did it pretty well. When his life should have ended in Normandy, Robert moved on with his Uncle Max, took the wealth they’d accumulated and stolen from Normandy and started new lives, far away.

  First they worked their way across Europe, changing identities as needed. They worked once as town “Magicians,” and stayed there much longer than anywhere else. Their magic seemed to be the source of their unending lives to the locals, and so they had the freedom to stay for a prolonged period. That era in their lives was a story in itself, to be told another time. They’d learned enough to truly be of help to the people there. Th
e local king had taken them in, and Robert had so impressed him that he’d been made the Magician of the Realm, while Max was the respected assistant to Robert. At that point in time and for about forty years they were known as Merlin and Maximus. Max had a thing about keeping his own name, and insisted on it.

  Living as long as they did in that time and place, they outlived the king they’d come to know and serve. They found the next king to be far less accommodating. Robert was sure the new king felt threatened by them in his new position. They continued to function as they had for forty years, and started butting heads with the king. After an unfortunate run-in with him that could have proven fatal for them, they decided to leave. They produced quite a show to stage the great Merlin’s death, and sneaked away, as always, with some treasure.

  ***

  Eventually they moved to what had become New Orleans, and started over as loan sharks and problem solvers in general. Often the “problems” were people who were in the way of others, and needed to be removed. That was their specialty. The police had tried often to catch these mysterious assassins, but to no avail. They were too experienced and too smart to be caught, or at least that was what most people in this line of business thought of themselves. Their employees became many, and their operations were varied.

  Eventually they came to a point at which they had a decision to make, which would change their lives, perhaps dramatically. Max, being much older, was ready for such a change, but Robert was not. Age is somewhat relative. Part of it is experience. Robert hadn’t experienced nearly as much as Max, and had never experienced a “skip.” Max had, and he knew it was time to do it again. They had amassed great wealth, built an enormous fortress/home, and had a small private army and a host of employees to enforce their will and their rules. Unfortunately for them, the rival crime gangs had united with the local governments to take them down. Everyone would win, except for Max and Robert, of course.

 

‹ Prev