Red World Trilogy

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Red World Trilogy Page 41

by V. A. Jeffrey


  "Shhh. Just be sure that this young man is worth it and that you two are discreet, otherwise all three of us will end up in great trouble."

  As they neared the Upper Quarter of the city Kaisha's face paled. They were indeed late getting back home. The sun was high in the sky. It was high noon. No matter how bright and high the sun, being in her husband's house made her feel as if the darkest night had fallen and would never lift. She dreaded what would happen next. Even the girl had grown quiet and apprehensive.

  . . .

  "You come and go from this house like a harlot with lovers all over the city! Where have you been! Am I to believe that you only went to the market?" He shouted. The servants who happened to be visible scurried off to their tasks like frightened mice.

  "But it is true. We only went to the market, like we always do every second and fourth day of the week. Only to the marketplace did we go." Kaisha found herself explaining. Was he accusing her of adultery now? This was new. She saw her mother-in-law, Lady Ketmal glowering daggers at her over the balustrade from the upper hall and Yisal was smirking. Kaisha was sure that they instigated his anger then set him upon her, as was the pattern.

  "Look at me when I speak to you!" He shoved her over a chair and she went backward into the wall.

  "Kaisha!" Cried Betal. Then she turned on her brother. "We do not lie! We only went to the market! Why do you accuse us of bad things?"

  "You!" He started in on her like a rabid dog, spittle flying from his mouth. His skin was pasty and sweaty and his eyes were dilated and flashing. He was trembling. The madness was upon him again. Kaisha, in her pain and pounding head wondered, in a detached way, whether he was being slowly poisoned. Nothing he did made sense anymore. He slapped his sister and she went spinning and fell to the floor. Lady Ketmal came racing downstairs then and went to Betal. Betal began to cry and Ketmal glared at Kaisha with all the malice in the world.

  "You are leading my daughter astray you evil piece of toocha!" She turned to her son. "Do I not keep telling you to send her away? And now look what disharmony she keeps causing in this house! Betal, just look at you! Stop crying. You are as dark as one of the ugly South Land peoples. I keep telling you, you must stay out of the sun, child." Her hatred for Kaisha disappeared into clucking empathy and soothing tones to her daughter.

  "You will be getting married soon, Betal. It is high time you acted like a true noble woman and keep to the house. Besides, there is work to do. You will be running your own household soon enough." Said her brother. The mother shot Kaisha an evil look as Kaisha sat up.

  "Send her away! I tell you-"

  "Be silent, mother! I am not sending my wife away. I am the man of this house and I am sick of women telling me what I can do." He cast a dark glance at his mother who grew quiet but her gaze was pure malevolance. He grabbed Kaisha by her feet and dragged her through the house, screaming. He kicked her into silence and then hoisted her up and put her into the prison whenever she displeased him, a small bedroom on the ground floor of the house, and locked her in. She wept.

  "Do you not care?" She screamed to no one in particular. To Airend-Ur. "Do you not care anymore?" This was not the first time he resorted to locking her up. There was a table, a chair and an amphora of water with a bowl. Other than that it was bare. After some hours, when she no longer had any spirit left to cry she went and sat by the small window to watch the sky. There was a view of Nimnet's beautiful blue and white temple and the mountains beyond but she did not care about these. She only wanted to see the sky, to fly away like a falcon. She wished for Betal's dagger to put a stop to the anguish. She rocked back and forth, her mind nearly empty of any thought. She had prayed many times over the years but that had been no use. He was not listening. She was alone. She had no other family and if she ran away he might catch her and then kill her himself. In fact, the first time they had fought he'd told her that very thing. There were no tinkering birds here and only he and his mother and elder sister had access to the family falcons.

  She did not know what time of day it was and no one came to see about her for the rest of that day. The room's shaded light faded into night and she remained at the window, like a statue. The peacocks that wandered the courtyard began their wild crying. It was then that she saw a brilliant bloom of red and orange color in the distance.

  Fire! A great fire, like a mad kindling in the heavens that had fallen to the world. Something approaching thought and words in her mind began to form again and she began to remember.

  Nimnet's temple is on fire!

  Her nerves buzzed at the brash directness of the thought and then she felt a twinge of hope, if not for herself, for everyone she knew as a child.

  Nimnet's temple is on fire!

  It set a small, smoldering ember in her heart that she'd thought long dead.

  Anet was on the move.

  Chapter Ten

  He poured a jar of the crushed pyrite into the cauldron, half full of water and built his moisture trap over it. He set the fire and put a lid on top of the trap. When the sulfur burned off from the metal he would at least catch some of it and use the sulfur in one of his new potions for those who had joint pains. Demos was glad he was working in the open air kitchen this time. Sometimes the things Master Ulthi used stank to the heavens. There were all sorts of materials and metals to make potions, tinctures, infusions and other things: there were the usual materials like metals or water and other materials like dung, urine, blood and other effluvia. Demos wondered what punishments awaited him in the future for this blasphemy. In the Holy Aishanna, certain things were unclean and one had to purify oneself after handling them. Not so here in this land, according to Egian tradition. They had purification rites in spiritual alchemy but they did this for different reasons. In his master's house he was not allowed to wash but more than twice a week.

  On the fire in the kitchen upstairs he monitored the skin, cartilage and joint bones of the animal they had eaten; mutton boiled down so that he could chill it to make a congealed treatment. Powerful odors were borne along by the slight draft of air coming through the door. He would need to make a paste with ashes and mix it with ground roots of the kata flower. It was actually Demos's own idea, a healing medicine and ointment for those who had bad infections or mysterious pains. He had only a small amount left in a bowl by his work table. Busy as always, he nearly did not see the man standing before him.

  He was of small stature, lithe and elfin-like and seemed young, with intense strangely colored eyes. They were light gray which told he was either northern Egian or foreign. He was bald with a red tattoo on the top of his head. Demos had never seen this man before.

  "May I help you? The master is not in as of now-"

  "I did not come to see your master. I came to see you. Your potion there, someone I know bought it from here once and it helped her immensely. I would like another vial of it made." The man had a slight accent that Demos could not place.

  "You mean this?" Demos pointed to the vials on the table.

  "No. This salve or, ah, the potion you have in the bowl here. When do you think it will be ready?" The man's tone was insistent, not in a demanding and rude way but full of urgency. Demos began to wonder what he was about.

  "Well, I am making more of it right now. You can have this bit left here. Let me get a pot for you. How much do you need?"

  "As much as you have. I will take the whole amount in the bowl, if you do not mind. How much will it be?"

  "That will be one silver coin."

  "Is that all?"

  "That is all. Since it is a salve I myself have created it is not an expensive one. I am only a slave, you see." The man looked at him in surprise.

  "Your medicines do wonders, you know. Wonders. Oh, excuse me. I am so sorry. My name is Samje. I am here on my mistress's orders. One silver you say?"

  "Yes, unless you want to pay more. If my master was home you would pay far more than one silver."

  "My mistress thanks you."

&n
bsp; "I am glad you find it helpful but it is not too hard to make on your own." If the truth be told only the lower level alchemists made potions for the sick or the love-sick. The well-respected ones in Egi did not lower themselves to do any such thing. There were too many esoteric mysteries to study and occupy their time for such non-essential activities.

  "We do not have the time to do this. Jusawa!" The man said and placed the coin on the table. Demos started abruptly.

  "What did you say? Ju. . ."

  "Jusawa."

  "Are you sure you have not been here before?" Demos was very curious now.

  "I have not but my mistress has sent others besides me here to collect this salve. Why?"

  "I've heard that word before, but only from certain people. That tattoo, it is a strange marking. What does it mean? What profession are you in?" Demos asked. The man seemed to look nervous, his eyes darting around like two gnats.

  "I do not mean any harm. I am sorry if I have been disrespectful. I am only a slave like you and I had no right to pry. I am sorry." The man's face softened. Slightly flustered, Demos filled a small clay pot, sealed it and gave it to him. The man glanced around as if to make sure no one was listening and then he spoke.

  "It means many things to those who would know but for now it just means "thank you". I can tell you are not from Egi." Demos shook his head sadly and said nothing. He did not like to think of the past since there was nothing to be done about it in the present.

  "Neither am I or my mistress." Said Samje. This man is far more talkative than the others she sent. Demos thought. He was intrigued. The man leaned in closer.

  "We were all once like you but now we are free. In a way."

  "Free? How?" The man shook his head and put his finger to his lips. Demos's surprise turned into shock. On his left hand the man had seven fingers.

  "That, I can tell you but not here. It is - dangerous. My mistress is in great distress now. Which is why she comes to you for this." He lifted the pot and put it in his skin bag.

  "Who may I ask is your mistress? Is she one of the great ladies of the city?" The man just gave him a mysterious smile.

  "She resides in the eastern quarter of the city. Near the Waters of Mabellus. Or Mabelat, if one is Egian. If you can come she would greatly appreciate it and she would reward you. She is rich, you know. Perhaps you could work for her instead of this place, for this miser." He said. "If you can escape or if he will allow you out, come to the House of Senetta. Remember now, it is near the Waters of Mabellus." The man said and with a short bow and a smile he left as quickly as he had appeared. Demos stood, stunned. It was the first time in years he had ever thought of freedom. But this is nonsense! I have tried and failed. But the thought, now lodged, pierced his heart. It would not leave him. What is the House of Senetta? Who is Senetta? She must be wealthy indeed to have a house and property with its own name.

  He new that the waters of Mabellus was a giant cistern. Now excited by this strange visitor, he did his best to keep his hands busy and his face blank. Master Ulthi would be home soon and would want the evening meal served immediately. Through all his tedious tasks his mind raced on how he might, once again escape. He could feel sweat break out under his tattered clothes at the thought. If this mysterious woman needed his help and his potions, perhaps he really could become her slave instead. Perhaps she would buy him and he could live as a pampered, well taken-cared of servant. He heard the usual rustling behind him and turned and saw a rat scurrying across the floor and under the door, escaping outside. He would never get used to those things. He shuddered in disgust. The House of Senetta had to be better than this place.

  . . .

  Master Ulthi was at his favorite task - counting his gold and silver. Demos shuffled in and cleared his table of the dinner scraps. One small chicken and a small hard sheep's cheese with soured barley porridge was dinner. Demos would eat the leftovers, though there did not seem to be much. Master Ulthi had picked the carcass nearly clean and any meat left would be the marrow in the bones and the joints. Demos shrugged inwardly. A bone broth would do him well for the next day and a half. Besides, his mind was alive with plans - a plan to escape and try to find Senetta's House. Master Ulthi peered up at him with greedy eyes.

  "That salve you make, Demos. The salve is more valuable than you know. From here on out, if anyone comes here asking for it, it will cost them seven silvers. Do you hear me? Seven silvers." Demos's mouth opened wide in astonishment.

  "Close your mouth, fool. Do not just stand there like a dumb donkey. Seven silvers. Tomorrow I expect a full inventory of how much you have already made, how much of the ingredients you've used are left in the storehouse and how many customers have come in here to buy this. I want to see the ledgers tomorrow. I will make some good ladre from this salve of yours. Perhaps. . .perhaps we will see. . ." Master Ulthi's voice trailed off. It seemed his mind was reeling with possibilities to squeeze customers dry.

  "Yes, master." Said Demos dutifully but anger grew in him. He knew that some of the customers could not afford such a sum. What could he do now? He had to get to that place. He had to get out of here and after more pondering, he came to an idea. It had come to him before but Demos was naturally timid and in the beginning of his service to Master Ulthi he was thrashed so badly that they both thought he'd been beaten into submission. But this stirred in him a desire to rebel against his master once again. He had seen and heard the accounts of those who came to him for the salve and how it healed ailments seemingly miraculously, serious ailments. He found it fascinating and strange but not all of those people had the means to pay the new price. He also thought of escaping to a more powerful master. If so, under Egian law the more powerful master could pay double the price his original master paid and keep an escaped or captured slave. Perhaps Samje was not having a jest at him. Perhaps this mistress of Samje's would keep him. Demos thought that nearly anything would be better than working and living with this old, good-for-nothing pinch-fist.

  Master Ulthi snored as loud as a groaning camel. It would be easy to know when he fell asleep, which was usually half past high night. Master Ulthi had him tattooed on his back so that if he did run away he would be identified. It was a dangerous business but his curiosity had turned to a burning need in him to see this mysterious woman. He had access to some of the herbs in the shop.

  While cleaning the kitchen room, he went to the door that separated the indoor kitchen from the shop and he quietly grabbed two handfuls of kuneal leaves, a plant that when burned or boiled released fumes, powerful fumes that induced deep, dreamless sleep. The leaves were hard and sticky and felt like prickly thorns in his fingers. If things went right Master Ulthi might sleep well past high morning, perhaps time for him to get back before he was discovered. He dreaded thinking what would happen. He grabbed some incense sticks to help mask the scent and then he went back to finishing up his chores before bed. He would be dead tired tomorrow but he would deal with that tomorrow. He took a few bottles of his medicine and hid them in a skin bag. Carrying these things underneath his tattered robes he went to his bed which was in the indoor kitchen by the hearth. He blew out all the candles and tamped down the embers in the hearth and he lay down on his pallet of hay and cloth scraps.

  Through all the nocturnal sounds he listened and through those he strained for the inevitable rhythm of sleep. Finally his ears rested on the regular rise and fall of snoring. Demos listened for some time and then he got up and got the small cauldron and put the dried leaves in, setting them on fire. They created a dry burning. He covered his face with an old piece of cloth, tip-toed to the door and with peacock fans as the smoke rose he set the pot by the door, cracked it and fanned the smoke. The smoke rolled into master Ulthi's bedroom. Soon, half the house was full of a soft, barely perceptible layer of smoke. He opened a few windows so that when he got back the smoke would no longer be there. The snoring softened as the man descended into deeper sleep. Satisfied that Ulthi was peaceful in a deep, dreamless
state, his heart racing, he pulled over his robe, took up his bag, lit an oil lamp and quietly left, refusing to even think upon what would happen if he was found out.

  He knew the direction of the Mabellus cistern, the eastern part of Yilphaeus or known as the Black Quarter among visiting Hybronians. The city at night was a different beast than the city at day. If he was out at this time which was rare, it was when traveling with Master Ulthi. He pulled his robe closer about him, pulling it over his head. He was careful to walk near the middle of the road as often as possible as the walkways were littered with garbage. He had heard tell of a certain plague that had struck some of the residents and it did not surprise him. He passed by rats, hearing them rustling furiously among the garbage feast and picked up a stick to beat off any dogs or pigs that might happen by. The good residents and subjects were in their homes but many were out and about. Taverns and inns were wide open, shadows of patrons flitting in between lantern and lamp lights. He saw a string of people entering a small building, known as a den for a certain deadly drug that all the occupants used to remain in dreaming state most of their days. He had always wondered how they existed only in dreams but dared not go in to find out. Most that were out and about scurried along like him, not looking anyone in the eye. His feet were sore but he could not stop now. He passed by an old statue of Nisrok, worn down partially from wind and sand and dirt. No one was following him as far as he could see but he heard a commotion - rival gangs of boys arguing over something. He ducked into an alley and waited for the commotion to pass. It turned into a brawl over territory from the sounds of it. He heard screams and a wail and then the sound of many feet dashing away.

 

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