Advent of the Roar

by Benjamin M. Piety

  “With me, Ethan,” he sniggers, wiping his nose.

  Cadwellion paces down the hall with long, slim steps, making Ethan jog behind him. They reach a staircase designed for the ranpart with steps larger than normal. Ethan considers these steps the sort of exercise he and Undess could use.

  Reaching the top landing, they round a few corners and approach one of the ranpart’s many sleeping chambers. Being the only living body in the stonetin, save for the many guards who reside below, the whole complex holds a cold and unwelcoming energy, one that counters the various guest and common rooms available. Cadwellion pulls out a small key and unlocks the door, then steps inside.

  As Ethan enters, he finds a young woman, possibly in her midtwenties, passed out on a bed. He steps closer. She’s a handsome woman with long black hair, nude, and covered in dirt.

  “Who’s this?” Ethan asks.

  “One of my guards found her in an alley behind the Crescents bar.”

  Ethan steps up, first covering her with a sheet and then placing his finger under her nose. She’s breathing. He lifts her eyelids and finds her eyes bloodshot. “She seems drugged.”

  “It would seem.”

  Ethan walks around the bed, examining her further, checking her pulse, between her fingers, and along the soles of her feet. He opens her mouth and checks her gums. “It looks like a violet overdose to me. Though she doesn’t have signs of being a longtime user.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not sure I understand why you brought her here. There are many overusers in Salsman.”

  “This one is different.”

  Ethan turns back to the young woman, who remains comatose. He talks as he continues to assess her. “There’s a chance she may not recover. Her heartbeat is slow. She’s nearly sent.”

  “I didn’t bring you here to tell me the woman has overused violet and is going left; I brought you here to heal her.”

  Cadwellion speaks with authority and displeasure. Whenever he speaks in this manner, Ethan senses the temperature in the room around him rise, creating a mood that’s alien and unnatural. As if, in some way, Cadwellion becomes taller and more frightful.

  “Yes, Sur.” He returns to the young woman, checking her pulse again. “I’ll need to retrieve a few instruments from my office.”

  “As you need. I’ll be in my study until you have woken her.” With a flick of his robe, the ranpart leaves the room.

  Exasperated, Ethan is unsure how he’s to wake the woman. If he’s even able to. He leaves to gather a few medicinal supplies and returns to her after a few majors with even fewer ideas.

  Over the next hours, Ethan proceeds to perform further tests, attempting to uncover anything he might use to draw her out of her current state. He starts by injecting her with fluids and vitams. The woman appears healthy, not like other overusers who fall into comas from being underfed or dehydrated, though the few unusual symptoms she displays only lead to the conclusion that she suffers from an overdose of violet and perhaps this is a reaction from a first-time user.

  He pores over a few books from an extensive library downstairs and studies up on the most insidious effects of violet, seeking techniques others have employed to aid the recovery of victims in comatose states. Outside, the evening sandstorm has faded, just as the sun begins to peak over crest.

  And then, without any warning or further actions, the woman takes a deep breath and sits up. Ethan is startled and stands in response.

  She looks over at Ethan with confusion and shock, covering her chest. “Where am I?”

  “Good morn. You’re in, uh, Cadwellion’s stonetin. You’re safe. You were found in an alley.” The woman acts confused and disoriented. “Let me get you a drink of water.” He turns and pours some into a mug, and then hands it to her. She takes it, nodding in approsh.

  He waits for a minor but decides to ask a few questions before informing Cadwellion. “Do you have any recollection of what happened? Do you remember taking violet?”

  She shakes her head, lost in thought, her face distorted and her eyes closed. Thinking. “There was a black light, but I don’t remember anything before that.”

  Black light? “What’s your curam?”

  She pauses. “I don’t remember.” She’s frustrated as if she’s trying to recollect something—thoughts that linger in front of the tongue but are wrapped in a stubborn fuzziness—but cannot.

  “Have you ever used violet before?”

  “Violet?”

  “It’s a drug. Bodies rub them into their gums. It can be dangerous in high doses, which is what I suppose happened to you.”

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “That’s not uncommon.” He pours her a little more water. “Do you know where you’re from? Do you live here in Salsman?”

  “Where?”

  “Salsman. In Yikshir.”

  She closes her eyes. “It sounds familiar, but I don’t remember.”

  “Family? Parents who might know where you are? A husband? Wife?” The woman attempts to remember but shakes her head. “It’s wisnok. You should rest. I’m sure you’re not feeling your best.”

  She smiles—“Approsh”—and takes a deep breath.

  “You’re welcome. You’re lucky that guard found you when he did. Not sure you were long for this Land.”

  “Who found me?”

  “Oskar. He is a guard who labors for my ranpart, Sur Cadwellion. Now that you’re awake, Cadwellion is eager to speak with you.” She nods to Ethan, who smiles politely. “At the minor, I’ll have a guard bring you some clothes.”

  “Approsh again.” She sets the mug on a stand next to the bed and lies back down, pulling the covers over her.

  Ethan leaves the room and ascends a staircase to the ranpart’s study. After knocking, he opens the door to find Cadwellion hunched over a large desk, engrossed in a letter he’s writing. “Excuse me, Sur, she’s awake.”

  Cadwellion looks up from his letter. “Superb, Ethan. How is she?”

  “She doesn’t remember anything.”

  “As I thought. I was going to do this before she awoke, but I haven’t had a chance. I need to follow up on another matter.” He rises and walks across the room, leading Ethan back down the staircase all the way to the basement. “You may accompany me, but I will not answer any questions.” As is the normal.

  Along the way, they come across several guards, who stiffen as Cadwellion passes. The two then arrive at the depths of the stonetin, where they find a wet and dark prison floor. Ethan knows about this area but has never actually been down or known that someone is here.

  “You have someone priced?” The idea seems mad, especially with so many accusations against ranparts.

  “He is my informant,” Cadwellion quips without further explanation. “Please stand back, I told you no questions.”

  Ethan waits off to the side, watching Cadwellion from afar. The soft drip of water trickles from above as Cadwellion steps into one of the cells. From Ethan’s angle and with the shadow, he’s only able to see the faint outline of a naked man chained to the wall, huddled in the corner. As the ranpart steps up to him, he cowers in fear.

  “Please, don’t . . .” the man whimpers.

  Cadwellion grabs on to his arm, lifting and examining him. He then stands the man up and rubs across his back. It’s unclear what he’s looking for or sees. After a major, Cadwellion leaves the cell and leads Ethan back upstairs. Ethan takes a last glance, and the man starts to snivel in the shadow.

  Cadwellion turns to Ethan. “Your young and curious mind wants to ask questions. Wants to know more about what is going on here. You should forget what you’ve seen down there. I cross, the answers you find will not be to your liking, and I wish to impress on you that should you discover any answers, I will send you left without hesitation. Are the rules clear?”

  Ethan swallows, taken aback at the bluntness with which Cadwellion speaks. He only nods in agreement.

  “Very well, let’s return to
our guest.”

  They ascend the staircase to the sleeping room of the young woman, who lies quietly in bed. When the two enter, she sits up, covering herself.

  Cadwellion’s demeanor shifts when he sees her. “My child, welcome. How are you feeling?”

  “Confused.” She smiles weakly.

  “We should get you some clothes. My apory for keeping you here. When we found you, you were unconscious.”

  “He said so.” She nods toward Ethan. “Approsh to you and Oskar for finding me.”

  “It is of no consequence. In fact, it is my pleasure to meet you.”

  Cadwellion reaches out his long-fingered hand to shake the woman’s. Ethan watches the exchange from a distance. Cadwellion’s behavior is strange and unusually warm toward her.

  “Do you know what happened to me?” she asks.

  “I do not, my dear. Ethan here is my acolyte and supposes you were drugged on violet, but fortunately you were found before being sent left.”

  She nods, her eyes mistrusting toward Cadwellion. Even in his warm and soft behavior, the ranpart can be impassive.

  “Ethan says you don’t remember about where you’re from?”

  “I don’t. I remember a black light, but nothing more than that.”

  “That’s fine, dear. I, in fact, do know your curam.”

  The woman’s eyes widen. Ethan unconsciously steps forward in surprise as well.

  “You do?” she asks.

  “Yes, dear. Your curam is Sanet.”

  Ethan looks on with more confusion. In the ten years he’s known the ranpart, he’s never heard him mention any woman curamed Sanet. The man downstairs must know her.

  “Sanet?”

  “Yes. Do you remember that curam?”

  She thinks, but shakes her head.

  “I know this all may seem so strange to you, but I believe you came to us with great purpose, and I am glad to finally have met you.”

  Sanet blushes. “I just want to know what happened.”

  “In due time; we all do. But, before then, I have much to teach you. Much to discuss with you. For now, though, you should rest.”

  She nods as Cadwellion stands to leave. Ethan turns toward the door as Sanet calls out.

  “How did you know my curam? Do you know where I came from?”

  “In truth, I’m not entirely sure. I only know that you have a son and it is in my interest to find him for you.”

  “A son?” Sanet asks.

  “I’m afraid for him, however. There’s nothing we can do now, but hopefully soon we can find him together.”

  With that, Cadwellion turns and leaves the room. Ethan stands by quietly in disbelief. He watches as Sanet sits dumbfounded in her bed and suddenly begins to cry. Ethan steps up and sits down next to her, rubbing her back.

  “Apory, Sanet. I know this must be maddening.”

  “Who is he?” she asks, wiping her eyes.

  “A ranpart. And it’s a ranpart’s way to walk in hidden knowledge and secrets. But if it’s any consolation to you, I’ve worked with him for over ten years. He’s a good man.” Ethan smiles to comfort and console her.

  Sanet wipes her eyes. “I have a son?” Her face speaks to his own emotion. Confusion in the unknown.

  Chapter 23

  A WELCOME CELEBRATIONS

  The novit was boring, to say the least. I don’t know how Undess reads these. Since Cadwellion left six months ago, labor around the stonetin has been mind-numbingly monotonous. The guards have grown lax, which gives Ethan ample opportunity to wander the stonetin, peak to foundation. Though at times, he has to wait until the guards are asleep or have become so tipst they are completely unaware he’s exploring in areas he shouldn’t.

  One of the areas he most likes to explore is the basement prison. He has long mulled over that night years ago when Cadwellion found Sanet and had kept someone here. The priced man living in this cell is never spoken of by any of the guards or even Cadwellion himself, and had inexplicably disappeared only a year ago—though it remains unclear whether this happened with or without the ranpart’s permission.

  At home, things continue to be the same. It is Mercet’s ninth paseday on the morrow. Undess chooses not to celebrate pasedays, believing they take away from the worship of Dustian. This absurd practice doesn’t stop Ethan from taking Mercet out for a walk and, in secret, presenting him with a gift. This year, Mercet wants a Yantak playset, the arch nemesis of Dread Copla.

  Ethan has the playset swathed in silver wrapping, waiting at the stonetin. Though Undess knows that Ethan enjoys giving presents and celebrating with Mercet, she closes her eyes to the “sin of gifts.” But for months afterward, she’ll grit on any number of irritations and annoyances as a way of punishing him. She lives to divert her real feelings. Mercet’s paseday always makes the house a little smaller, and because so, since Cadwellion will still be gone for a few months, Ethan makes plans to bring Mercet to the stonetin overnight, and they’ll celebrate his day in grand fashion.

  Beyond the respite of present shopping, Ethan takes a lot of naps and tries to keep in better shape running up and down the staircases. These upstairs-downstairs jogs halt short at the ranpart’s steps, which are too tall to conquer without tripping or catching a side stitch. This burst of health and exercise came to him as he grew agitated over Undess’s lack of aspiration to better herself. As she grew larger and more sedentary in the years since Kevin’s passing, Ethan began to lose some of his life weight. Still, he reminds himself: Long way to go, Ethan. Long way.

  It is a particularly sweet morn with the midsummer cools ramping up when Ethan sets out to walk the upper stonetin walls. Reaching the open air, he takes in the refreshing breeze on a day, now past the full sun, remaining a magnificent clear blue. In the distance, the endless sea lies as placidly as a duskmeal round, where farther out, a fleet of kleeps sail leisurely across the waters. A drum of jarjers fly above them, completing the perfect major.

  He wanders to the southern wall and looks down across the shifting sands, catching a glimpse of a lone horsal plodding along. The frek and whomever it’s carrying, Ethan guesses, are possibly a few hours from the Salsman redrock and another hour or so from the top of the steep switchback-laden climb to the city gate.

  Curious and bored, he pulls a large magnifier from a resting pitch and looks down the barrel at the flat-backed horsal, where he sees an odd couple. On it sits a slightly older yet handsome man with hass and pestler hair and a peculiar-looking cog vaulting back and forth across his shoulders. And then beside him is a dark-haired woman—

  My Lincoln, it’s Sanet. He drops the magnifier into the pitch and hurries down the stonetin staircase. She’s back. She’s back? I wonder if she found them? The day has been so lazy, and suddenly there are a thousand things to do. He makes his way down to the guards ‘quarters to speak with the officer in charge.

  “Sanet’s returned. We should prepare for her arrival.”

  The officer, hearing Sanet’s curam, quickly stands, his demeanor shifting from absolute apathy to undiluted joy and anticipation.

  So, now they’re ready to labor.

  Within minors, the entire stonetin is alive with activity. Guards and servicemen rush about. The dirt and grime of the building suddenly become wholly apparent. Ethan himself showers and dresses. I’ll need to pick up Mercet, and then I can meet Sanet at the gates. Guessing she would arrive at dusk, he relays the plan to the entrance guards that he’ll return with his son, Sanet, and her companion later that eve. The guard staff scoffs at the idea of her bringing back a partner. Ethan rolls his eyes. She can’t be in single souls with the whole of you.

  Taking one of the ranpart’s many carriages, he journeys back to his haynest. Perhaps it is the sudden shift in events, but Sanet’s return seems like a grand affair. Mercet always enjoys Sanet as well. What a lovely paseday surprise for him. Undess isn’t the biggest gully for her and will most likely sneer at Mercet and Ethan for leaving for the night. She’s become unb
earable over the years. It’s been ten years now since Kevin’s death, and she’s only become more irritable, quicker to anger, and less . . . amused. To see Undess smile would be like seeing a tenfooter dance the Green Palco.

  After the hour’s journey, Ethan enters his haynest to find Undess sitting in her usual chair, reading while consuming coffee sticks between pellets of green brackleberries. Next, she’ll be on violet. “Where’s Mercet?”

  “Dustian to you too, Ethan.” Undess speaks without lifting her eyes from the page. “He’s in his room.”

  Ethan shakes his head and paces to Mercet’s room. The boy is lying stomach down and flipping through cartoons. Ethan sits down next to him.

  “Evening, Mercet.” Mercet looks away. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Mercet, look at me.” Mercet turns his head, and in the dim light, Ethan can see that he wears a huge bruise over his west eye. “What happened to you?”

  “Nothing. Jeroff being a shnite.” Mercet sits up in defiance, putting on a thin air of confidence and indifference.

  “Careful with your words, son.”

  “But he is.” This is the fourth time this year that the children at his boaler have sent Mercet home with a blue’s eye. Ethan isn’t entirely sure why Mercet is picked on out of the others. He isn’t awkward or antisocial, though he enjoys cartoons over championships, as do many others his age.

  “Well, what would you say if we spent the evening at Cadwellion’s?”

  “Really?” His eyes light up.

  “And I have another surprise, but we can’t tell your mother,” Ethan whispers.

  Mercet and Undess don’t get along much. She tends to treat him as an extra in the house. It isn’t that she dislikes Mercet. Far from it. She has it stuck in her mind that, somehow, she is the cause of their first child’s death and she’s afraid of getting too close to Mercet—in case he, too, meets the same fate. She confesses this often after grits about nothing between her and Ethan.