Thrall's Wine

by Hausladen, Blake;

  “I’ll give you more than a headache, you slimy little shit.”

  “Ryat, Geart,” Avin said hotly as he stepped through the crowd and took both of us by the arm. “How old are you two? Children, both of you.”

  Quite a crowd had gathered.

  “Avin—”

  “Not another word, Geart. Either of you. We’ve problems enough. That the two of you would start a little boys’ slapping match is an insult. Do you see Erom carrying on? His son is on trial for his life, and where is he? Doing what he promised.”

  “Avin,” we both protested.

  “Shh!” he hissed, slapped Ryat, and tried his best to slap me. He couldn’t quite reach.

  Avin pointed to a tall man in the crowd. “You, slap him for me.”

  The man was a timberman with his breakfast of an apple in one hand and an axe in the other. He tossed the apple core and slapped me on the ear just as hard as he could. I fell on my ass as my ear rang.

  “Thank you,” Avin said to him.

  “Anytime to help sort him out, Your Grace. Want me to hit him again? The girls all love him, but he’s been acting strange for days. Scaring the children.”

  “No. Thank you, sir,” he replied, and after I found my feet, he dragged the pair of us toward the keep.

  Sometime the previous day, the fresh-built cupola had been painted with lime. It blazed white in the morning sun. I had not noticed before that the keep was really an ancient church.

  Others were moving up from the town as well. Trusted faces. We were on our way to give an oath to the Spirit of the Earth.

  Ryat stopped to check himself—robe, shoes, fingernails. He straightened his already sculpted hair, and checked his breath.

  “You done?” I asked.

  Avin shushed me again and then looked me up and down. “You’re a mess, Geart. Come,” he insisted and dragged me to the sally door on the back side of the keep. Ryat, for whatever reason, seemed to share Avin’s new concern. They stopped me in the storeroom just off the kitchen.

  “What the hell are you two on about?” I asked.

  Ryat pulled a small disk from his pocket that clicked open to reveal a silver mirror. He handed it to me.

  The shabby bear in the mirror frowned back at me. I returned Ryat’s trinket. He was smart to have kept his mouth shut.

  Pemini and her girls were busy inside making the keep’s next meal. The girls waved and fawned unnecessarily at my arrival. I waved at them vaguely. A gesture and a few words from Avin had the girls descending upon me, and before I could protest, my robes went over my head and I was dropped onto a stool. A bucket of water, soap, and shears appeared. Hair fell away in tangles while the girls whispered questions to me about my white light. I shrugged at them. I did not like the adoration.

  “Hush, girls,” Pemini said. She had hold of a razor, and she set to shaving me with a touch as deft as a 1st division line sergeant. “I know it won’t make you feel any better,” she said just to me, “but you cured all the hurts that made me wake in tears each morning. I thank you.”

  She finished, kissed my cheek, and went back into the kitchen hollering for the girls to hurry up with my clothes.

  Ryat struck me sharply with his elbow.

  “You are determined to have a bad day today, aren’t you?” I asked.

  “To whom much is given, much is expected,” Ryat said.

  “And where did you read that?”

  “It does not matter which prophet it is attributed to. You are very nearly a god to them, and while you may not want it or care, your appearance and manners are no longer free for you to slob about.”

  “Slob about? You Bessradi fop,” I said. “I was Hemari. I can keep fit better than any man.”

  Avin said, “Ryat, shut up and hand him the mirror.”

  He handed it to me but would not shut up. “You would do well to consider your new place in the world with the same discipline. You might not think much of me, but you insulted these women with your silent sneering. Not so much as a hello or a thank you.”

  “What are you two on about?” I said. “What is so rotting important?”

  Avin said, “These hundreds of meetings are meaningless to you, but for them they are likely to be a moment they remember for the rest of their lives. You have a responsibility to attend those moments and honor the Spirit with your grace and your kindness.”

  In the mirror I saw a jackass Hemari and a murderer. I flung it at Ryat and said to Avin. “Make him the face of your religion. I’m not interested.”

  The girls brought clothes stolen from somewhere—probably the barracks and Barok’s closet. The cream-colored uniform tunic fit well, and the black robe they hung on my shoulders had silver clasps and a teal brocade of acorns and blades. It fit me perfectly.

  “I look like I’m heading to a wedding,” I said and then remembered the one man in the garrison who had been my size. Tosen. A proper soldier and Pemini’s eldest brother.

  “No. Take it off,” I said as I hurried out of the dead man’s wedding robes. I pushed it back at them. “He should have been wearing this upon his funeral pyre. I’ll not dishonor a fallen soldier. Shame on you.”

  The girls shrank back.

  “Geart,” Avin protested, but I stepped away from them, through the kitchen, and up the stairs. They pursued me up into the armory.

  “Geart,” Avin said. “What are you doing? We’ll be late.”

  “They’ll keep,” I said. “You said you wanted me to attend the moment, so stop staring and help me find a gambeson and bevor that fit.”

  Avin was useless, but Ryat did well helping me find the proper undergarments and pieces. Most of it was made for men Gern and Barok’s size, but I had my pick of the entire collection.

  When it was done, I gave a little hop to check for slippage. The gleaming suit of armor fit like my skin. I grabbed a shield, hung a war hammer and broadsword on the belt, and took hold of a heavy poleaxe.

  “You’re mad,” Avin said to me.

  “I am a weapon,” I said to him. “I am not a healer, or a prophet, or the savior of this world. I am a cold rod of steel. Now you’ve done enough talking. Let’s attend this song and dance so that I can be on my way.”

  “On your way? On your way to where?”

  I ignored him and made my way up to the top of the keep.

  We were the last to arrive. Two rows of benches circled the space beneath the shade of the crowning cupola. The upper row was occupied by stone-faced Chaukai, the one below by the many men and women from the keep and the town who had earned the same trust. There were a few new faces in the crowd, as well, including the loudmouth carriagemaker, the proper general who had led the defeated Tracians off the field, and a bearded man I guessed to be the Arilas of Heneur.

  Soma stood alone in the center of the space. “Thank you for coming, Geart,” she said. “You honor us.”

  Every man and woman stood, and following her lead, they bowed.

  Soma was not the same woman, either. The tired stare and weary face of a refugee was gone. She stood upright. Her eyes blazed, and warmth radiated from her as if she’d been all day in the sun. She crossed and said to me, “She is angry with you. Why?”

  “Huh?” was all I could manage just then. The power of her presence captivated me.

  “What did you do?” she asked.

  I could feel the Spirit of the Earth within her. Soma was Her eyes and ears. I said to her, “I learned the wrong magic after the Battle of Urnedi. The Shadow has hold of my soul and will not surrender it. I tried to murder my teacher and the Chaukai sworn to defend me. She has given me another task, but I have failed again. I have decided to depart.”

  Barok stood and said, “Geart, no.”

  Soma asked, “Where do you mean to go?”

  “I will go to Bessradi and kill all those who offend the Earth. I should never have left.”

  “Can you stay with us just a while longer?” she asked. “There is something I may be able to do for you
before you go. Please, Geart, have a seat.”

  I took the space cleared for me, rested the poleaxe upon my shoulder, and folded my hands upon the shaft. I was comfortable there. The leggings were a bit long, but there was another set in the armory that would serve.

  Barok began with introductions, and I tried unsuccessfully to nap while he gave a sermon for the cause. He spoke of making men prove themselves by bleeding red and of letters that carried the truth of the Hessier across Zoviya.

  He said, “And in the same way, I am revealing the secrets of our enemies to the rest of the world, I have gathered you here so that you may all learn the faces of those who we trust with our secrets. Most of you have sworn oaths already. Some of you, like our honored guests from Trace and Heneur, have not. Captain Gern will attend to this in a moment. First, our Lady Soma means to be satisfied that we are all what we claim to be.”

  The prince sat down next to me while Soma stepped back into the middle of the space and waved Captain Gern forward. The greencoats upon the battlement stood, raised bows, and made ready to draw and fire. The crowd bristled. I yawned. He was already Chaukai, and I was not much interested in watching her cut his finger and show the crowd that he bled red. When she lowered the evidence that he was, in fact, not Hessier, she held something out toward him and with it she summoned the Shadow.

  I leapt out of my seat, ready to call the Chaukai to draw and fire. But Gern held out his hand toward me, and I stood stunned to see the swirling darkness wash across him.

  It could find no hold.

  “Gern Furstundish,” she said to us. “Our Chaukai.”

  The crowd applauded, and the next greencoat stepped forward. A line formed. Barok pulled me back into my seat. Dia and he were as awed. All were. We watched Soma cut one after another and invite the Shadow. The entire ring of men filed past her. All the while the rest stood ready to draw and fire. It took forever.

  She was nearly finished proving the Chaukai were Chaukai when the Shadow she summoned took a small hold upon a man. The crowd murmured before she told them to be silent.

  “You carried the dead slave away?” she asked.

  “I did,” he replied. “Burned the bodies, too.”

  “All of you, take note of this,” she said. “Being saved from the Shadow is not permanent. What we do and the misery we make and surround ourselves with affects us. The Shadow can take from us the bravest and most loyal of our number.”

  And while we watched, she took hold of the man’s soul in some way. The writhing tendrils of darkness she commanded lost interest in him. He returned to his place, the remainder of the Chaukai submitted themselves for inspection, and then it was time for the rest.

  “Pix, dear,” she said. “You first.”

  She stepped toward her mother bravely, never once looking at the hundreds of arrows ready to be fired at her. She held out her hand, let her mother cut her finger, and showed us all the red blood.

  Soma summoned the tendrils again, and they seized Pix at once. The thing in Soma’s hand began to smoke, and the girl gasped and sank to her knees.

  The crowd was transfixed. Mother bent over daughter, and shaking with wrath, she said, “I take her from you!”

  I wished to know what Soma saw as the grip of the Shadow fell away from the girl. All I could see was the mindless arms of the Shadow. Much more than that was happening.

  “Stand,” Soma said sternly, and Pix rose. The girl’s poise was gone, but not her courage. She held her head up and crossed back to her spot.

  The father was next, and he did not have the same spine. He eyed the archers and cried out when his wife cut him. It did not surprise me at all when the Shadow took hold of him like a lover. He collapsed and did not even manage a scream on his way down.

  A bit of flame escaped from Soma’s hand as she bent down and did her magic. It exhausted her, and the man could not rise on his own afterward. A pair of Chaukai helped him back to his seat.

  What will happen when it is my turn?

  I could hardly watch the rest. Most went as quickly as Pix, including our guests from Heneur and Trace. One of the Vlek girls drew almost no attention from the Shadow at all. None were as difficult as Sevat until midday had become early afternoon, and we were down to the last: Dia, Barok, his envoys, and me.

  Pemini and Umera went with Dia to catch her in case she fell, and everyone was on the edge of their seats when Soma summoned the darkness. It seized Dia as I’d expected, but also took hold of Pemini as fiercely as it had Sevat. This I did not understand. Pemini had already been saved and not that long ago.

  Yet Soma was nimble. She dealt with Dia swiftly, yelled Umera back, and stepped into the darkness that tore at Pemini. Sorrow poured from her, and I willed Soma to be swift.

  “The misery,” Barok said. “All the misery we cause.” I could only nod.

  It was a terrific relief when Soma at last helped Pemini to her feet. Umera took her by the hand and sat with her while Soma waved on the last few.

  Erom, Avin, and Selt each took a bit of work. Ryat proved clean, and the crowd was pleased to see it. Soma was surprised by this result, and they shared a few words before they looked across at me. The rest were starting to eye me as well.

  It was Barok’s turn, but you would not have known it from looking at the Chaukai. A pair of them crossed to relieve me of my weapons.

  “Ouch,” Barok yelled.

  “Sorry,” Soma said and wrapped a cloth around his hand. “I slipped.”

  Quite a slip. The cloth went red with blood, and then a second she’d had ready. Horace crossed and healed the wound with a quick song.

  Soma sent Barok back with another apology and waved me over.

  “Are you ready?” she asked.

  “Does he know you are using his blood for your magic?” I asked. She did not answer. “If he doesn’t know, do not tell him.”

  She was not interested in my questions. She asked, “Will you tell someone how we are to save Her before you leave?”

  “You want me to tell it to you now?”

  “You might not survive what comes next. The Shadow is strong in you—much worse than the rest.”

  “You think I am a Hessier?”

  “I think you are a thrall. Like Darmia. Or something very like one. They are described as bound. What happened to you in the yew … the story of it worries me greatly. When the magic of the Earth and Shadow in your soul are combined, there might not be anything left of Her.”

  “Would I lose my power?”

  “It would kill you. You cannot live with only one Spirit within you. You will not be allowed to leave here as you are.”

  “And what am I, exactly?” I asked.

  “I hope you are just a man.”

  Gern said across, “Is everything okay?”

  She asked me, “Is it?”

  “You first,” I said. It was a stall, but she forgave it. She handed me the knife and extended her hand toward me.

  I heard the creak of bowstrings.

  “Steady,” Gern called.

  I cut the tip of her finger. “Red,” I said out loud. I sounded foolish. I handed her the knife, and she did the same to me. The crowd was relieved to see me bleed red, and the bows relaxed. Soma and I ignored them. The harder question remained. I got down on my knees. “Do it, Soma. Parts of me do not want this. Hurry.”

  She pulled the charred wad of bandages from her pocket.

  The darkness leapt at me like a lion. But it did not pull me down as it had the others. His words filled my head, and I was cloaked in the delicious darkness I’d learned to love and cherish.

  Soma struggled, and I laughed. “You’ll need to do better than that.”

  I stood, and an arrow shattered against my shoulder.

  “Hold fire,” Gern growled. “Soma! Soma, are you okay?”

  She could not answer. The Shadow knew her well, and I reached out with His hands, took hold of her, and turned her head for a kiss. It would be the kindest death a woman wo
uld ever know.

  An icy orb of utter darkness rose between us.

  “What is this?” I asked, and recognized it too late as the fresh bandages. She did something—began to use the power bound to Barok’s blood. The ball of darkness exploded into a million colorful threads. Most burned into nothingness, but some came my way and took hold of me.

  Soma used this power to caress my tired soul. I felt then how little of Her there was left in me.

  “I am not a thrall,” I said and sank back to my knees. “Save me, Soma. Please.”

  She did not respond. She began to weep and moan. The crowd clamored close. She was fighting like Ryat had, but not in order to save her own soul. She was risking her life to save mine.

  “Come back to us, Geart,” Dia said and kissed my forehead.

  I raised an angry hand. Barok caught it. Pemini was there then, too, and Avin and Gern. They crowded close and said kind words.

  “I don’t want to lose this,” I shouted.

  “Save him, mother,” Pix said, and it was as though these words were filled with a magic of their own, and they must have been, because Soma’s hold upon me stiffened and she mended my flayed soul.

  The Shadow hissed and screeched as He lost his grip upon me—upon us all.

  I felt Her then. It was as though a billowing mist of love and boundless life rose up from the sanguine stones of the keep.

  “Adanas,” Dia said.

  They could all feel it. The perfect combination of both Spirits into one. The absence of strife was so very strange. All the world was at peace around me. We basked in the absence, but the moment did not last long. The ugliness of the world returned.

  “Why did it come back?” Pemini asked.

  Dia said to her, “Worry, regrets, anger. We invite the Shadow back.”

  I wanted to argue, but already I could feel the desire to sing rising in me like the want for a woman.

  Hmm. I’d not felt that in a while. How long had the Shadow had hold of me? My poor memory bumped its way back to my assignment to the palace, the long nights I stood above Barok’s bed, and the trips I made to the dungeons with those who had offended him.