“What is going on here?” Mirari asked, rushing outside to see what was the matter.
“I told her the truth.” Iibala grimaced, glancing down at Sisila with her arms wrapped around her. “Now please help me.” Iibala said. With Mirari’s assistance, they brought Sisila back inside into the parlor. As Sisila wept on the couch, Iibala and Mirari stepped off to the side.
The healer shook her head. “I don’t understand this mess, but I’m half inclined to walk out of here,” She muttered. She was almost afraid of what power and authority Iibala wielded here, how she was able to reduce Sisila to tears.
“No, please don’t go, Mirari.” Iibala said. “We need you.”
“Why should I stay? Why should I help you?” Mirari asked.
“I didn’t want to do this,” Iibala said, looking down, “But I might be inclined to talk about your healing abilities.” She glanced up at Mirari.
“No one would believe you.” Mirari said, staring back at her.
“They might,” Iibala said, glancing up even further, “Especially if I were to show capabilities of my own that would prove that I knew what I was talking about.”
“You would condemn yourself along with me?” Mirari asked, gasping.
“I would do that, unless you help me. Sisila and my father need your help as well. You’re a healer, are you not? Is that not what you are supposed to do?”
“I will help your father, of course, but what about you and Sisila? What do you two need help with?”
“Magic.” Iibala whispered, and Mirari recoiled at the mere mention of the word. “We need you to teach us how to use it.” Iibala continued.
“Use it? Whatever for? I am not a teacher, I am…” Mirari started to say.
“I know, I know, but any help you can give us will be most appreciated. We are inexperienced and rudderless. Sisila has barely any knowledge at all of what talent she possesses, and I am able to sense certain things, but I cannot control my power. You will help us, won’t you? Otherwise we will be forced to fend for ourselves, to control and constrain our powers, and others might suffer for it. Magic can be dangerous, to both the person who wields it and those around them.”
“All right, I will try to teach you all what little I know, to keep you both safe and protect others around you. But I expect a higher fee, Iibala, the one that we’ve negotiated for your father’s treatment won’t cover this activity.”
“That’s fine, I expect that.” Iibala said.
“I also want you to have a talk with Sisila about these lessons beforehand, to get her prepared for what she is about to face, but not right now.” Mirari urged. “Let her have a rest, recover from the shock. You’ve done enough damage with whatever you’ve said to her.” She glared at the girl. “I am leaving town anyway for a couple of days, to patrol the surrounding area and see if anyone else needs my help right now. Your father is not going to be my only patient while I am here. I am going to earn more money and save lives.”
“I understand that as well,” Iibala said, slowly nodding, though she was disappointed. She had hoped to get started as soon as possible in learning magic, but it seemed that magic would have to wait for another day.
Brigga hummed softly to herself as she took out a basket full of washed linen and clothes to hang out on the line and dry, but then she paused in the middle of the stableyard, and glanced back towards the inn, up towards a corner of the roofline. “Hello, Old Man.” She whispered softly to herself.
The Old Man jumped down onto the ground, and raised himself up to face and approach her. “Hello, Brigga. It has been awhile since we last spoke. How are you faring?”
“I am doing fairly well, considering the circumstances that I have had to put up with working at the inn.” She sighed to herself as she started to hang up clothes. “I have been trying to ingratiate myself here, even going so far as to have an affair with Smidge,” She cleared her throat for a moment.
“Smidge? Why Smidge?” The Old Man asked, stiffening slightly.
Brigga looked up at him and said, “Because, Old Man, I fear that you have to watch out for him. You have suspected him of being a Follower in the past, have you not?”
“Once or twice, but I never found out anything definite.” The Old Man said, though his tone didn’t sound very reassuring.
“Nor have I, but I had to try, in the best possible way that I could think of, not that I could think of very much beyond the obvious,” Brigga shuddered to herself, “Unpleasant as it was, so that I could understand him better.”
“Oh, Brigga…” He almost reached out for her.
“I don’t think I would make a very good spy,” She remarked to herself, as the Old Man looked away from her, “For all of the nasty things that I had to do, and would have to do, to find out the truth. There are so many hidden corners in the human mind, and whenever I tried to penetrate Smidge’s secrets, I always hit a wall of some kind as he blocked me off. I could never get close enough to him.”
“Perhaps it’s for the best, Brigga.” The Old Man remarked, turning back to her. “You don’t want to get too close to him, especially if he proves to be a Follower of Doomba. I fear for you, your safety if Smidge finds out your true purpose.” He added. “You should not have done this without talking to me first.”
“Don’t worry about me, Old Man.” She smiled. “He got kicked out of the inn last night, fired or fried, literally. He quit working at the inn so that he wouldn’t get caught and arrested.” Brigga then grew somber. “He won’t be bothering me anymore.”
“What happened?” The Old Man asked.
“Habala caught us in the storeroom last night,” Brigga cleared her throat again, “I was trying to be accommodating with Smidge, to find out more about him, although I didn’t want to go beyond what that called for. We were…kissing, for the most part, but she knew that something else was going on here, that I didn’t want to be there.”
The Old Man finally laid a hand on her shoulder and she gripped it tightly. “She threatened Smidge, even hurled some fire at him, and he left, though it was dangerous for her. I fear for Habala, Old Man, interceding as she did.” She said, pausing in her chore. “Smidge must be ver angry with her. In any case, Habala accused me of spying on them, just as Nisa had done, trying to keep an eye on Basha and Oaka.” She continued on with her chore. “I didn’t know that she knew what Nisa was up to for all of these years.”
“Ah, yes, I think she found out soon after Basha returned from running away into the forest, about eight years ago,” The Old Man said, “When our daughter saved Basha from the rats.”
“Habala told me as much.” Brigga said. “She suspected what was going on, with what little Basha had to tell her about his nightmares of burning rats, and then she questioned our daughter. I don’t know if Habala knew precisely what was going on for all of these years, but now she knows for sure. I confirmed it.” She paused again. “I know I should have kept quiet, I know I should have denied it, but I was so stunned by what she knew, that I confirmed it. See? I wouldn’t make a very good spy.” Brigga said, continuing again, “I can’t deny anything for very long.”
“That’s a pickle.” The Old Man said. “Can we trust Habala to keep our secrets?”
“I suppose so, because she kept quiet about Nisa spying on her boys for all of these years, although I bet that was mostly because she hoped that Nisa would protect her boys whenever she wasn’t around.” Brigga remarked. “And Nisa has done that fairly well for all of these years, but now that the boys are gone, I fear that Habala might doubt us and our motivations even more, probably with good reason.” Brigga sighed and stopped hanging up laundry. “I am still being pushed to the edge of this world.” She said, indicating the inn. “Habala doesn’t believe me.”
“What do you mean? What else happened?” The Old Man asked.
“I told her what I suspected about Smidge.” Brigga said and then, seeing the look on the Old Man’s face, added, “I couldn’t help it, Habala has to k
now. But Habala doesn’t want to believe me, she doesn’t want to believe that Geda’s brother, whom she has known for most of her lifetime now, is a Follower of Doomba. And I think she is a little paranoid about it. If Smidge is a Follower of Doomba, if he, out of anyone, could be a Follower of Doomba, then what about Geda, Smidge’s brother? Of course, Geda isn’t, only Smidge is, but she doesn’t want to let such doubts and fears infest her mind.” Brigga said, bending down to pick up more laundry, and then she asked, “Geda isn’t, is he?”
“No, not Geda,” The Old Man confirmed, and he sounded absolutely confident in that. “It was Smidge’s choice, if he chose to become a Follower of Doomba. Geda never fell in with such a bad crowd like Smidge did.” The Old Man sighed. “I should not have trusted Smidge. I should have realized that, out of all the people here, he had some of the strongest motivations to become a Follower of Doomba. Perhaps I should deal with him before it is too late, make sure that he doesn’t harm anyone anymore.”
“What can you do?” Brigga asked him.
“I could try capturing and imprisoning him, keeping him out of the way as I question him about his actions, but his absence would be noticed by his family and the townspeople. They would search for him, seeking answers. Eventually I would have to deal with the matter even further, to handle Smidge and maybe even stave off the townspeople’s attention, but do I have that right when it comes to Smidge?” The Old Man hesitated. “I don’t know how guilty Smidge is, the extent of his crimes. I know about some of his activities and I have guessed at others, but I don’t know if he is guilty enough to deserve an execution, which might happen if he is left to me.”
Brigga stared at the Old Man. “You really would do that?” She asked.
“I have done such things before to other Followers of Doomba. And so has Nisa.”
Brigga grimaced and looked down. “I had not thought…actually, I have wondered, but I had not thought...Old Man, are you certain about the veracity, the rightness of your actions? And involving Nisa in them?”
“I know. Usually I am certain and usually I try not to involve Nisa in the worst, but sometimes I cannot control what happens. Smidge’s case is not as clear-cut as others have been. He might be guilty enough to remain imprisoned for a long time, possibly the rest of his life, but I don’t know if I can keep him for the rest of his life.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t do this.” Brigga said. “Leave Smidge alone for now until you are certain about his guilt and his crimes.”
“But what if he does do something horrible, even worse than what he has done to you or anyone else?” The 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 that he doesn’t do any harm, but otherwise, let him go.”
“All right. I suppose that is the best we can do for now, much as I hate…wait a minute. Brigga, could you go to the constable and report that Smidge tried to molest you?” He asked.
“I can’t do that.” Brigga said. “I thought about it, but I fear that if I report on Smidge, there will be too many questions about what I was doing with him, why I chose to be with Smidge in the first place if I did not really want to be there. They might uncover my purpose and your purpose as well. Can we really convince them that Smidge is a Follower of Doomba and that we are innocent of trying to frame him? Because if we can’t, then Smidge goes free and we are in trouble.”
“I suppose you are right about that as well.” The Old Man grimaced.
“Personally, I worry about Habala.” Brigga murmured, straightening up again with a sheet of bed linen stretched out between her hands, and she sighed. “She is in the middle of all this.” She hung up the sheet. “Habala was my best friend when we were growing up together here in Coe Baba. She was always so nice to me, and we got along well together, but then things changed, we changed, and we split apart to live our separate lives.” She twined part of the sheet to the line, to stop it from blowing away with the wind. “I never really got to know her better again, and I never got her to understand why I did what I did with you and Nisa being born out of it.” Brigga paused again, and the Old Man glanced up at her.
“What is it?” He asked.
“I thought that she would know that what I did was for the best for me,” Brigga said, smiling to herself as she thought about her former lover and their child. “But she was so confused with her own life, as was I, and we split apart because we could not reconcile the differences between us anymore.” She did not look back at the Old Man. “We had to live like this, and we would do so much better apart. I wish it wasn’t like this, but it was, and so we remained like this for years, but now circumstances have forced me to come back into her life, and she doesn’t like it one bit. I’m just as hesitant about this as well, considering what she has done, but I hope that, one day, she will come to see me in a better light and I will see her, too. I hope that we can be friends again.” Brigga whispered.
“I hope so too,” The Old Man said, both of them not just talking about Habala and Brigga anymore. He glanced up at the roof of the Smiling Stallion inn. “Well, I had better be off.” He murmured.
“Take care of yourself.” Brigga said, still not looking back at him.
“You know that I will. Take care of yourself,” He added back to her, and then left. Brigga continued to hang up the washed laundry, and then left, heading back into the inn as she wiped away some drying tears.
Chapter 10: Harmless
I am not as bold and as brave as you think I am,
I am just an ordinary man. But even ordinary men
Have their moments of glory, true. Bravery is just a
Matter of doing what you think you cannot do.
--Song of Bravery, Urso
Gnat ran into the forest, dodging trees as her feet slipped over dirt and twigs and jumped over underbrush until she reached the edge of a pool. She wanted to run away and escape everything she had heard today, but she could not, not when it might look suspicious.
She clambered over rocks to reach the other side, where a waterfall dribbled down the face of an outcrop. Besides, she had nowhere else to go and no one else to depend upon when she might be alone.
She slid herself inside through a cave mouth hidden behind the waterfall. At least here in Coe Aela she had some company, even if they were all miserable like her, and had their own worries. She slowly lowered herself down, step by step, inch by inch, nearly slipping when the cave was slick with the spray that sometimes dripped down the hole. No one cared for her here as much as they might care for their own children. She got down onto the floor, and walked towards the shape rising up from beneath the surface. She had no parents to call her own.
She bowed her head. “I don’t know what to do,” She said, whispering when she felt like she should always keep her voice low here. She felt safe down here, but it was a sacred place. “Oh, I don’t usually stick my neck out for other people, you hear me, because I know I’m always going to get into trouble eventually.” She paced around, still thinking. “But I don’t want to see them die. I don’t want to see me die either, but I know I will escape. I always escape, but not without a bit of pain.” She paused. “I am Gnat. They call me a tiny little bug they cannot destroy, but I cannot control everything.”
She whispered, even lower than before, “I can slip in and out, find my way around anything, maybe because I am small and insignificant. But I cannot say the same for others. They are the ones who will be killed, for being important and significant in some way. I do not know why. Maybe they made someone angry, or maybe they are being prevented from doing something important.”
She stopped and shook her head, realizing it was ridiculous as she turned to the figure to ask, “Do you even understand what I am trying to say? Do you understand?” She asked and reached out, longing to touch it, but then she turned away. “No, I shouldn’t. You don’t understand me, anyway, and certainly no one else here does. The problem here i
s that nobody listens, or pays any attention, to me, except for…well, it means trouble for me when they do, but then I have nobody else to talk to. No one else listens to me, and then…no, no, thank you. I will not stir, or cause any more trouble to fall upon me, but I have to help them, don’t I?” She asked the figure.
“These others, they probably have a future, a destiny to protect, and Goga and Fobata here are trying to stop that from happening. I suppose I have to help them because it is the right thing to do, if they need me to survive, if they need me to help make things better. I would have murdered them if I didn’t help, and I don’t want to harm anyone like I’ve been hurt. They seem nice, Basha and the girl especially…” She sighed. “Thank you for listening to me, but I have to go back. They are probably looking for me, looking to assign me another task to do. But thank you anyway for being here, and thank you for everything,” She said, turning away. She still had a lot to do, but it was a start. She walked back, and clambered up towards sunlight, leaving the figure for darkness and the water that dripped down the rock wall.
After eating breakfast in the grand banquet hall, which was calmer this morning than last night, the group separated for different pursuits with Basha heading out to the stables to check on the horses and his Coe Anji sword. He was obsessed with it, he had to admit that, afraid almost of what would happen to him if somebody else got their hands on it. He did not want to lose it. He thought this sword belonged to him now, after all he had bound it to him or something like that, and the power was incredible. He had experienced the sensation of having all of his senses enhanced, and the skills he had exhibited were not entirely his own.
The sword had controlled him, and yet he knew how to handle it. That was the scary part. He had been in tune with what it was doing to him, he had sensed what was coming up next, and he had anticipated the moves, drawing from the source of his power, the sword and himself. The capacity for what he had done had been inside himself as well as within the sword. He had done that, he had nearly murdered those men. He had let himself be controlled by the sword. He had accepted it. If somebody else got the sword, got its powers, what would happen to him? Would he be the same person? Would the other person be worse than him? Or better?
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