The Last Whisper of the Gods

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The Last Whisper of the Gods Page 7

by Berardinelli, James


  “C’mon,” urged Rexall. “We need to cool off. I’m sweating my ass off.”

  “I’ll be done quicker if you help.”

  “No thanks. I didn’t rush to finish at The Dancer so I could help you shovel shit.”

  “Where we going?” Sorial always let Rexall plan their excursions; he knew far more places in which they could find trouble than Sorial could guess at. Spending an afternoon in Rexall’s company guaranteed an adventure. Together, the boys had gotten in scraps, been chased through the city streets by irate merchants, and nearly been arrested by the Watch. Normally quiet and reserved, Sorial became another person when paired with Rexall.

  “Swimming.”

  Sorial groaned. In heat like this, the riverbanks would be clogged with people and the water would be an impenetrable brown from disrupted mud and waste. Normally, people swam to clean off. Now, they were more dirty after being in the water than before entering it.

  “Don’t make that face,” said Rexall. “I found a place where there ain’t no people and the water’s clean.”

  “This is in the real world? Not those dreams you’re always talking ’bout? The ones where the women strip and suck you off.”

  “It’s upstream from where everyone else bathes.”

  “Of course there ain’t no people! That’s private land, owned by the nobility. Get caught there and they’ll cut off your balls and feed them to their animals.”

  Rexall snorted in derision. “If they ain’t using it, I don’t see why we should be banned. It’s a crime against the gods to leave good bathing areas unused.”

  “So you wanna sneak past the guards and avoid the dogs just for a quick swim?”

  “There ain’t many guards and no dogs. The house is so far from the river you can’t see it. It’s perfect.”

  Sorial grimaced. This wasn’t the first time his friend had described a scheme as “perfect.” Sorial bore tiny scars all over his body as a result of past perfect plots that hadn’t run their course as projected. Nevertheless, Sorial couldn’t deny that a few minutes in the cool water away from the crowds would be welcome.

  “I’ve done it twice with no problems.” Rexall sensed a weakening of his friend’s resolve. “No people, no animals. The current is mild and the water ain’t no deeper than my chest. Worst case, we escape to the other side and take off through the high grass. On hands and knees, no one would be able to find us, even if they took the time to cross.”

  Sorial considered. The rational part of his mind argued that this wasn’t a good idea, but the seductive lure of a cool, cleansing swim was too sweet to ignore. “Let me finish here, then we’ll go.”

  An hour later, Sorial was stripping off his clothing and wading into the water. If anything, Rexall had exaggerated the difficulty of getting to this riverbank. There were no signs of dogs or human patrols. Perhaps the heat was limiting the activity of the landowner’s household guard. The two boys stayed in the high grass well away from the house and reached the river unchallenged.

  Rexall’s claims about the virtues of the river were accurate as well. It was deep enough for immersion but not so deep that Sorial couldn’t stand, his toes curling into the cool mud at the bottom. The water’s progress downstream was gentle, never threatening to carry him away. Reaching the other side would have been a challenge had it proven necessary since it was some distance away.

  “Told you! It’s perfect!” shouted Rexall, splashing his friend energetically. “This is the kind of place you find when you don’t play by the rules! The king should force nobles with land like this to open it to the public.”

  “If he did that, we wouldn’t have a ‘private’ bath,” remarked Sorial. Rexall wasn’t known for thinking through some of his pronouncements.

  After their swim, the two lay on the river’s grassy bank, their eyes closed and their naked bodies bared to the sun’s warm rays. Rexall’s fair skin was reddening but Sorial’s darker complexion showed no ill effects.

  “D’ya ever think about the future?” asked Sorial, breaking the tranquility of their afternoon idyll.

  “Not if I can avoid it. Ain’t no purpose to it. I worry ’bout things as they come along. I may be dead by the time the future arrives.”

  “What’ll you do when you reach Majority? Stay at The Dancer or move on?”

  “Sor,” said Rexall, opening his eyes and propping himself up on his elbows so he could look at his friend. “That’s two years off. Why should I give a fuck what’s going to happen in two years? That far out, ain’t no difference between planning and daydreaming.”

  Sorial remained lying on his back, his eyes closed. “I dunno what I’m gonna do. Stay or go, it don’t seem to matter.”

  “Hold on! I thought you were gonna to move back to the farm with your parents. It wasn’t that long ago you were talking ’bout how great it’d be. You always say how much you like the idea of working the ground. ‘A born farmer’ - weren’t those your words?”

  “I don’t think that’s gonna happen. My mother… ain’t who I thought she was.”

  There wasn’t much Rexall could say to that. He had never met Sorial’s mother or father.

  “Maybe I’ll leave the city,” said Sorial. “Stay at The Wayfarer till I make enough to hire a pack mule and buy some supplies, then go. You could come with me. You’re always looking for adventure.”

  Rexall saw no harm in humoring his friend. Two years from now, they might no longer know each other. Why not daydream… “Sure. We could head north, cross the Broken Crags, and go all the way to Syre. They say the women there’ll spread their legs for any man and the things they do…” He stopped abruptly, remembering Sorial had once told him his mother was a Syrene.

  “If my mother’s an example, those stories are right.” There was bitterness in his voice. “She’s spread her legs for enough men.”

  Rexall was shrewd enough to backtrack from the subject. “I wouldn’t mind visiting my people in Earlford.”

  “I was thinking more of going south.”

  “South? Ain’t nothing south. The Forbidden Lands. You wouldn’t want to go there. You can’t stand the heat and it’s worse there than here. They don’t have Winter down there.”

  Sorial shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d like to meet an elf.”

  Rexall laughed out loud at that. “An elf? Don’t tell me you believe those fairy tales. Next thing, you’ll be saying you wanna be a wizard.”

  Sorial became defensive. “No one’s proven the elves are gone.”

  “What proof? D’ya know anyone who’s met one? Do I? If they ever existed, they’re long since dead. The only things you’ll find in The Forbidden Lands are snakes and bugs. Big ones.”

  Sorial wasn’t deterred. “You don’t believe nothing.”

  “Only what I can see.”

  They were quiet for a while. Rexall lay back down and again closed his eyes.

  After a lengthy pause, Sorial said, “So you’ll come with me? If I leave, I mean.”

  Rexall sighed. “Probably. That’s two years off. There’s lots of things I’m more worried ’bout now. Like getting laid tonight, for example. When are you gonna give me that introduction to Annie.”

  “She ain’t a whore.”

  “That just means she does it for free. I’m surprised you haven’t fucked her. She’s supposed to like ’em young.”

  Sorial wasn’t happy with the way Rexall spoke about Annie. It was disrespectful and, whatever her faults, she deserved better. “We’re friends. She helped take care of me when I was little, after my parents left me with Warburm. She’s been nice to me.”

  “I’m sure she has. And being shy like you are, you ain’t taken advantage of it. Believe me, Sorial, she won’t be offended if you try something. Arrange an introduction for me and I’ll show you what to do.”

  Sorial didn’t want to think of Rexall with Annie. In fact, he didn’t want to think of anyone with Annie, even though he knew she rarely spent a night alone. “She said something �
�bout having a special present for me when I get to Maturity.”

  “You’re gonna wait two years to get laid?” exclaimed an incredulous Rexall. “Your cock’ll wither up and fall off from not being used!”

  “I can wait.”

  “Suit yourself. Waiting ain’t as much fun as doing it. Whores can be expensive, though, especially the clean ones, and it’s hard to find a woman willing to do it for free when you work in a stable.”

  “Visnisk gets regular visits from a whore. She’s a maid but makes a few extra coins working around the inn. I don’t think Visnisk’s her only customer. They do it in the stable. I sometimes watch from my loft.”

  Rexall shook his head. “Stop watching and start doing. Sorial, if it wasn’t for me, you’d spend your days sitting in that stable watching things happen around you without doing so much as dipping your little toe in. “

  “We’re talking ’bout a different body part than the toe. And mine ain’t little.”

  When it came to women, Sorial lacked Rexall’s forwardness and easy confidence. His friend didn’t have much more experience than Sorial - a few quick gropes in the dark with cheap whores - but that didn’t keep him from trying. Sorial, on the other hand, was intimidated by women. He wondered if he would ever feel comfortable enough around one of them to do more than stammer and stare. Looking down Annie’s blouse was one thing, but reaching out to touch… His face reddened at the thought. He could wait two years.

  * * *

  A week later, with the heat wave still in full bloom, Sorial visited The Delicious Dancer to ask whether Rexall was interested in repeating their riverside excursion. Upon learning that his friend wasn’t there, Sorial decided to go on his own. It was an uncharacteristically brazen decision on his part - breaking a law without Rexall to encourage him. After evading the guards, who were easily spotted and avoided, he spent an eventless day in the water and lying on the bank. The uninterrupted afternoon gave him an opportunity to think about his situation, something that was difficult to do within the confines of the stable, even when he was alone. Out here, surrounded by baking earth and cloudless sky, there was a freedom of the mind that couldn’t be experienced within the dim, suffocating interior of the stable.

  As usual, the conundrum of his parentage was foremost in his thoughts. He didn’t doubt that his mother loved him and he believed her claim that a prior commitment was keeping her from telling him everything he wanted to know. But that didn’t curb the frustration and resentment. The fact that Warburm was complicit in the situation complicated matters. On more than one occasion, he had considered approaching the innkeeper, but he didn’t know how to do it. After all, Warburm was his master and would punish anything he perceived as insolence.

  His mother wanted him to trust her and believe in her, but those things were beyond Sorial at the moment. Her revelation that his past, at least as he knew it, was a series of fabrications, undermined his sense of identity. He itched to see her again; the separation was wearing on him. But some intuition told him the time wasn’t yet right - if he went to her now, she would have nothing more to say and he would leave even deeper in the grasp of bitterness. She wasn’t going anywhere and, at least for another two years, neither was he. There was time, although few things were more difficult to ask of a thirteen-year old than to wait.

  The questions remained. What was his mother involved in? Why was it necessary for her to live with a man she didn’t love in a sham of a marriage? How did Warburm fit into this? Had Lamanar sold Sorial for a decade’s wages or was there something more to the deal? And, most importantly, how could knowledge of these things be dangerous? Obviously, there was something of import going on, but he couldn’t imagine what it might be. How could the truth about his past put him in mortal danger? The more he considered these questions, the greater Sorial’s sense of frustration became.

  Eventually, lying beside the gently murmuring river, Sorial dozed off. The sun was setting by the time he returned to the inn, but the air was still hot and close.

  The heat, by now more oppressive than at any time during the past Summer, continued unabated for another week, causing doomsayers to claim the weather to be a result of the gods opening a blast furnace and giving their sinful subjects a view of what awaited unbelievers after death. Unharvested crops were useless, dried up in the fields. Fortunately, the growing season was over by the time the worst of the heat struck. There would be food scarcities during Winter but not widespread famine, as had happened in the past following disastrous harvests.

  For the second consecutive Restday, Sorial went alone to the river. He appreciated the quiet and solitude the place offered. He could clear his mind. After stripping off his clothes, he waded into the water, then floated on his back with his eyes closed, paddling against the current to keep from being carried downstream. After a while, intending to get out, he lowered his feet to the river's bottom and opened his eyes.

  Alicia was sitting placidly by the riverside, her legs crossed and a smile splitting her face, looking far more relaxed than on either of the previous occasions he had encountered her. This time, unlike in the market square, he recognized her at once. Her hair was woven into a single braid tossed over one shoulder. She was wearing something dark and frilly that covered her from collarbone to knees but left her legs and feet bare. Had he known the ways of the rich, Sorial would have recognized this as a swimming costume, but in his experience, people swam naked or in their small clothes. Standing directly behind her, implacable as ever, was her faithful guardian. Upon seeing them, Sorial’s surprise was so great that he momentarily lost his footing, went under, and came up coughing water.

  “How interesting to meet you here, stableboy,” Alicia remarked when he caught his breath and stopped sputtering. There was laughter in her voice. “Did you come to finally thank me for saving you money on your marketplace purchase last Summer? If so, then I’ll say ‘you’re welcome’, as is proper, although I may add that it took long enough for you to visit. Perhaps you had difficulty finding where I live?”

  Speechless, Sorial gazed across the fifteen feet separating them, his mouth gaping.

  “Perhaps no one told you, but the public baths are downstream. Living in a stable, you might not know that, but the presence of my father’s guards should have hinted this is private land.”

  My father’s guards… Inwardly, Sorial groaned. Of all the noble’s holdings he might have stumbled upon, he had found hers. At that moment, Sorial was certain the gods still existed and he was the object of one of their jokes.

  She turned to Vagrum who, unlike their previous encounters, didn’t appear pleased to see Sorial. “What do you think? Should we go easy on him and warn him or should we tell Daddy and let the guards deal with him?”

  “He’s a trespasser, and that’s punishable under the King’s Law. Besides bathing, we don’t know what else he might have been up to.”

  Vagrum’s words conjured up images of chains and stocks.

  “True. Tell me, stableboy, have you been poaching or thieving?”

  “Uh… no, Milady,” stammered Sorial. He inwardly cursed Rexall for having gotten him into this, although he had no one but himself to blame.

  “I’m inclined to believe him,” said Alicia, splashing the water with her toes. “He doesn’t appear to be hiding anything.”

  At that moment, Sorial became aware that the water was perfectly clear and the girl’s gaze was directed beneath the waterline. Her expression was speculative. His face colored.

  “Do you think him dangerous, Vagrum?”

  “He undoubtedly has a disregard for the law, Milady, but I doubt him to be dangerous. He did protect you from the mice, after all.”

  She shot the man a black look, then turned back to Sorial. Her voice remained playful as she addressed him. “You don’t have plans to hurt me, do you? Because if you did, dear Vagrum would tear you to pieces. He’s very devoted. Am I safe around you? Am I safe around that?” She pointed between Sorial’s leg
s, where nervousness and the coolness of the water had produced noticeable shrinkage.

  “Of course. I would never...”

  “I thought as much. Then I won’t allow your presence to interfere with my swim.” So saying, she unfolded her legs and slipped into the water, the motion so fluid that it barely caused a ripple. Vagrum stepped forward as if to grab her, then thought better of it and lowered his arm. His eyes locked with Sorial’s, the mute warning evident. The boy remained frozen in place as Alicia waded toward him. While the water lapped against Sorial’s chest, it came up to her chin.

  She stopped a pace in front of him. Paralyzed, Sorial was torn between looking at her and watching Vagrum, who appeared ready to spring into action at the first sign of an inappropriate move on the boy’s part.

  Alicia was smiling and there was laughter in her green eyes. Where the water kissed her golden hair, it was a darker color. She regarded him carefully before saying, “You have nice muscles.” She reached out a hand and lightly touched his chest then his arm. Goosebumps followed the trail of her fingers.

  “Milady, I’m not sure it’s wise to touch him,” warned Vagrum.

  “He doesn’t mind.” Her eyes locked with his. “Do you, stableboy?”

  “Uh… no, I guess not,” replied Sorial, wishing more than anything that he was back in his hot, sweaty, smelly stable. Alicia’s touching was causing other parts of his body to react, and he could tell by her smile that she was aware of precisely the effect she was having on him.

  “Do you think I’m pretty?” The question was entirely unexpected.

  Sorial swallowed, then told the truth. “The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” And she was - even prettier than Annie, although not as ripe. Her swimming costume revealed only the barest hints of development. She might act the coquette, but she was still a little girl.

 

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