Holding out the bowl, Brother Willim says, “Here.”
James takes it and gives him a short, “Thank you.”
“Mind if I sit down?” he asks.
James shrugs and says, “No.”
Taking a seat on the ground facing him, Brother Willim dips his spoon into the so-called stew and begins eating. He watches James for a moment before saying, “I can tell there’s something gnawing away at you.” James glances up to meet his gaze but makes no comment. “It might ease your mind if you tell me about it.”
Locking eyes with the priest, James says, “Confession good for the soul?”
Brother Willim gives him a brief grin. “Never heard it put that way before, but yes. There are times when keeping your troubles bottled inside can do more harm than good. A tree cannot grow tall if there’s a disease eating it away from the inside.”
James takes another bite and sighs. “The weight of the dead is heavy,” he begins. Glancing again at Brother Willim, he sees the concern and worry for him in his eyes. “Before I came here, I had never been near the dead and dying. Oh sure, I watched the news but had never connected to it emotionally. They say that my people are growing numb to that sort of thing. Heck, we’re inundated with it all the time from every direction. Newspapers, TV, radio, everyday you hear about how this person was found dead, or that person killed for political or religious reasons. But it never really hits you.”
“But now, I personally have been responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths,” he states.
Brother Willim can see the pain behind his eyes. “I understand the weight you carry,” he says understandingly. “Events, unfortunately, have not given you any other options.”
In a voice that’s barely above a whisper, he says, “But that’s not the worst of it.” He glances up to the priest, holds out his hand and creates one of his spheres. “You’ve seen me use this?” he asks.
Brother Willim nods gravely. “Yes,” he replies.
He rolls it around in his hand as he explains. “This is the most evil thing I have ever done,” he admits.
“Evil?” says Brother Willim. “I wouldn’t so name yourself, or your deeds.”
“You don’t understand.” Holding the sphere between his forefinger and thumb he brings it up in front of the brother’s face. “With this, I suck the life from people and use it to kill. First it leeches power from everything nearby, then I am able to utilize that power in various ways. Barriers, fire, explosions, you name it and I can do it.”
Nodding his head, Brother Willim remains silent as James continues.
“Isn’t that wrong?” he asks as his eyes turn to gaze at the sphere between his fingers. “To steal the life that the gods have given them?” He then goes quiet as the sphere disappears and he looks to Brother Willim for a response.
“Our lord Asran teaches us that to take the life of any living thing is wrong,” he says. “Whether it be birds, fish, insects…” and then he pauses a moment before adding, “or man. But we do need to survive, and so we kill animals to feed ourselves, clothe ourselves and so forth.”
“But men are not animals,” he insists.
“No, that is true,” he admits. “But let me ask you this. If a man was intent on taking your life, would you have any compunction whatsoever about removing one of your slugs from your belt and killing him with it? If that was the only way in which to preserve your life?”
“Yes, though I wouldn’t want to,” he replies.
“And later, would you agonize over it like you are doing now?” he asks.
“Not so much, no,” he admits.
“Whether you take the life of someone with a sword, knife, or even a slug, is no better or worse than what you are doing with your sphere,” he says.
“Then why do I feel this way?” he asks.
“You feel this way because you are a good man,” he explains. “Each person has within them the knowledge of right and wrong. Some say it is learned from those around them as they grow up, others believe that it comes from the gods.”
James nods. “I understand what you’re talking about,” he says. “My people call it a moral compass.”
“You are feeling this way because you are going against yours. You feel this is wrong, so your ‘moral compass’ is working to keep you from continuing down this path.” He pauses a moment to see what affect his words are having. When James makes no comment he adds, “Are you finding it easier to do the things you feel are wrong?”
“When I first discovered that the power within everyone could be taken and used, I was appalled and told myself that I would never do it,” he explains. “Or rather not to do it unless absolutely necessary. Now though, I seem to be doing it on a regular basis.” He turns pained eyes toward Brother Willim and says, “Now it’s almost as if it’s becoming a habit. I no longer even try to come up with another way.”
“The easiest path is often the most dangerous,” Brother Willim states. “The more you do what you know is wrong, the easier it will become the next time. And the next time.”
“What can I do?” James asks.
“The solution to your problem is simple,” he says. “Stop doing what you know is wrong.”
“But, that could cost us our lives if I don’t,” he replies.
Brother Willim gives him a look of sadness. “As long you can come up with reasons why you must do things against your ‘moral compass’, you will. We humans can reason anything to sound like a good idea. If taking the life of people in this manner is abhorrent to you, then don’t. Or resign yourself to continuing as you have.”
“What will happen to me if I continue?” he asks.
“I think you know,” he says.
They sit there in silence for awhile while each finishes their meal. James thinks about what Brother Willim had said and knows the truth of it. After they’ve finished their meal, he says to him, “Thank you.”
Brother Willim gives him a smile and says, “That’s my job. I am a priest you know. Just think on what we talked about, follow your conscience, and you’ll feel better.”
“I will,” says James.
The rest of the night goes well for him as he rejoins the others. By the time he lays down on his blanket, he feel much better and has promised himself not to sink further toward the ‘dark side’.
Chapter Twenty Four
Out in the desert as they are, nothing disturbs them throughout the night. When the sun begins to lighten the world with the coming of dawn, they break camp and resume their trek to Cyst. Everyone can tell that James is feeling much better than he did the night before. Many credit it to the talk Brother Willim had with him before he went to bed.
Shortly after getting underway, a cloud of dust can be seen rising from the direction of the road. James removes his mirror from his pouch and checks it out to find a force of several hundred riders moving fast on their way up to Morac.
“Word of our presence is spreading,” says Potbelly when James tells the others.
“Could be their heading that way has nothing at all to do with us,” counters Miko.
“Possibly,” says James, “but I doubt that. We better be on our guard from here on out.” Throughout the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon, he uses his mirror to scan for probable hostiles in the area. A couple times he has them detour around patrols of soldiers.
“Can you find Cyst?” Jiron asks some time after midday.
Scrolling the mirror to follow the road, a city soon appears. “There is a city up ahead,” he announces. “It’s rather large but doesn’t have a protective wall surrounding it like others have.”
“Is there a large compound on its eastern side?” asks Jiron. “Azku said that a slaver named Buka could be found in such a place.”
Nodding, he says, “Yes there is.” He moves the image in for a closer look and adds, “It’s definitely a slaver compound. There’s an auction going on even as we speak.” A string of young women, girls really, are being
auctioned off one at a time, just as Jiron’s sister Tersa had before they rescued her.
“How far away is it?” he asks.
“Not more than a couple of hours,” he replies. “There’s not much of a military presence there either.”
“That’s good to hear,” remarks Scar.
“So if things go wrong, again, we shouldn’t have more than the city watch to deal with,” Potbelly adds.
“Well let’s try not to have things go bad this time,” James asserts. He makes one last scan for roving patrols then puts away his mirror. “It’s clear all the way there.”
“Excellent,” states Jiron.
For the next two hours or so, they ride quickly across the desert always keeping the road just out of sight. Then, from out of the horizon before them, the skyline of the city appears.
“You know, it might be better if we didn’t all go in together,” Scar says. “They’ll be on the lookout for a large group, not just a couple of people.”
“Good thinking,” says Jiron. Slowing down, he brings them to a halt and has them gather round. “James, Reilin and I will enter the city while the rest of you stay out here,” he says. From the way Scar is groaning, he was hoping to be one of the ones to go. “As you said Scar, three will be less noticeable than all of us together. I need Reilin, he’s the only one here who can talk to the people and find out where this guy is. James is along just in case.”
“With any luck, we won’t be too long,” he continues. “Stay out here, if you have to move to avoid detection, then do so. With James’ mirror we’ll be able to find you should you not be here when we return.”
“Good luck,” Aleya says. For once she’s not insisting to accompany him, much to his relief.
He moves his horse over close to hers and leans over to give her a kiss. “What about the rest of us?” Scar asks with a grin. The others break out laughing. Ignoring him, he says to her, “Be back in a bit.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” she says and returns a kiss of her own.
“See,” says Potbelly to Scar, “if he gave you a kiss, you would have to give him one in return.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” jokes Scar and several of the others break out in laughter once again.
“Come on,” Jiron says as he turns to head toward the city. “We’re wasting daylight.” When he sees that James and Reilin are both ready to go, he nudges his horse into motion and soon all three are moving at a fast trot toward the road. Behind them, the others begin making their way over to a stand of stunted trees that will afford them some protection from the sun while they wait for their return.
To Reilin Jiron says, “Should you need to talk to someone, we are looking to purchase slaves.”
Nodding, Reilin replies, “Okay. What for?”
Shrugging, Jiron says, “I don’t know, how about for some brothel up north.”
“That’ll work,” he says.
They soon reach the road then turn to the southeast and to the city rising out of the desert. When they came out of the desert, the other travelers upon the road look at them quizzically but otherwise pay them no mind. Keeping a steady, but not too out of the ordinary pace, they make their way toward the city through the many wagons, riders and people on foot that clog the road.
Before they reach the edge of the city proper, other buildings begin sprouting up. Inns, chandler shops, and other businesses catering to travelers line both sides of the road. They even pass by one such structure, a two story building badly in need of repair, that has several women outside attempting to entice those on the road to come inside. The way the women are dressed leaves no doubt as to what service the traveler will receive should they take them up on the offer.
Before they completely pass through the outlying buildings and enter the city, the compound in question comes into view. A large wall surrounds it and a string of slaves are being led through the gate.
“I think this is it,” states Jiron.
Lowering his voice so as not to be overheard, Reilin asks, “How are we to get in there?”
“Buy a slave,” James says. “It’s really not that hard.” He gives Jiron a glance and they both grin at the memory of their last experience. Aside from buying many of those who are currently traveling with them, Jiron had fought a blood duel with a Parvati to free his sister.
Absentmindedly, Jiron rubs the necklace that hangs beneath his shirt that marks him as a Shynti, a designation given by Parvatis to only the most fearsome of fighters. He had acquired his shortly after winning the blood duel. The fact that he is so named has proven useful on a couple different occasions.
They work their way through town, Reilin fending off the few salutations that they receive. After turning onto the street that will take them straight to the slaver compound, James’ stomach cramps when he smells the most delectable odor coming from one of the open air eateries.
“Hold up a minute,” he says. “Let’s get a bite to eat first.”
Jiron glances to the position of the sun in the sky and nods. “There are still a few hours of sunlight left,” he says. “Why not?”
The mouthwatering aroma which stopped James is coming from an open pit where a whole pig is roasting on a spit. Sections have already been carved off its carcass for their patrons. “Here,” James says to Reilin as he hands him a couple silvers. “We’ll wait here.” He and Jiron stay just outside the entrance as Reilin takes the coins and goes inside.
He returns shortly with three half loaves of bread. The insides have been scooped out and spicy pork meat with a sizzling sauce now fills the cavity. James takes his and looks at it questioningly, not sure the best way to eat it without making a mess. Then he notices two men sitting at one of the tables who are eating the same thing. Watching them, he sees one man tear off a piece of the bread, and uses it to grab one of the thin slices of pork. Then he shoves the whole thing in his mouth.
Trying it, James tears off a two inch strip of bread and snags a piece of the pork. Placing it in his mouth, his eyes soon water as the spices on the meat set his tongue afire. Looking around, he sees the counter where the place sells mugs of ale. Moving over to it, he grabs one that has already been filled and completely downs it. Several of the men sitting at the various tables have noticed his reaction and a smattering of laughter breaks out. Once the fire has been reduced to a dull throbbing, James realizes that it tastes really good. Placing some coins on the counter, he takes another mug and rejoins the others.
“Spicy?” asks Jiron.
“You could say that,” he replies as he wipes away the tears forming once again. Tearing off another strip of bread, he takes more care this time and manages to reduce the effect of the spice.
When they’ve finished eating, they resume moving toward the slaver compound. People on the streets pay them little heed since they are still wearing their native attire and doing nothing to stand out. As they approach the slaver compound, the main gate through which the people are moving comes into view. Two slavers stand to either side of it looking rather bored. Occasionally, one of the people would stop and ask them a question before passing through.
Indicating the two slavers at the gate, Reilin asks, “Should I see if they can tell us if Buka is here?”
“Go ahead,” James says.
So when they approach the gates and are near the guards, Reilin steps up to the two men and asks, “Could you tell me where I could find a slaver by the name of Buka?”
The two slavers perk up at that. “Buka?” one asks. “Why would one such as you wish to see Buka?” The other slaver moves in beside the first slaver.
“I…” he stammers then says, “I…that is we…have a mutual friend.”
“You do, do you?” the second slaver asks. “I hardly doubt that.”
“Who is this mutual friend?” the first slaver asks. “Maybe he’s my friend too?”
The second slaver grins. “Yes, who is this friend?” he asks.
Reilin glances to James and Ji
ron. Unable to follow the conversation, they are no help. “That is none of your business,” he asserts. “Are you going to help me or not?”
Shrugging, the first slaver says to the second, “It matters not I suppose.”
“True,” the second agrees. Turning his attention back to Reilin he says, “Buka is here.”
“Where can I find him?” he asks.
“He’s inside,” the first one replies. “Not sure where exactly, but he’s in there somewhere.” The second one nods as well.
“Thank you,” Reilin says then moves to rejoin James and Jiron. He glances back and sees the two slavers still watching him, an amused expression on their faces.
“Well?” asks Jiron.
“He’s in there but they didn’t know where,” he explains.
“If only we knew what he looked like,” James says. “That would simplify things quite a bit.”
“True,” agrees Jiron. Taking the lead again, he moves through the gates and into the slaver compound.
They enter a large courtyard after passing through the gate and find the auction still in progress. Over to their left on one of the long, raised platforms, a slaver is conducting the auction. A beautiful young woman stands naked next to him, obviously the one whom the people are currently bidding on. Behind the auctioneer stand another five waiting their turn.
Watching the girls being auctioned brings back the feelings in Jiron that he had when his sister Tersa was on a slave block. Before that time he had never given slavery much thought. But after that experience, he came to agree with James that slavery must be stopped and if possible, every slaver put to the sword. Or the knife as the case may be.
“We’re not going to find him out here,” James says. The few slavers in the courtyard are up near where the auctioning is taking place.
“I think you’re right,” agrees Jiron. “Unless he’s one of the ones taking part in the auction.”
They look around and find an unguarded door leading into one of the main buildings of the slaver complex. Moving ever so nonchalantly, they make their way across the crowded courtyard and toward the closed door. Before they reach it, Reilin places his hand on Jiron’s shoulder and says, “We got trouble.” He then directs Jiron’s and James’ gaze to the main entrance through which they entered. Guards are entering and beginning to fan out.
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