by B J Hanlon
“I’m not lying then,” Dorset said, he moved to the edge of Edin’s view and glanced down. His long blond ponytail flapped behind his head. He wore a flowing green robe that pushed and pulled in the breeze. “You know it was really peaceful out here, much better than the hustle of the city. No trouble, no worries… then you come along.”
“I upset your home, did I?” Edin said feeling the tension rising up in him. He didn’t like this man, he was a pompous jerk for certain. “Take it up with that fat man. I didn’t want to live with a slob.”
Dorset pursed his lips. “That’s great, I don’t want to room with an ignorant cratmonger either. We’re both stuck then.”
“I guess we are,” Edin spat. He didn’t have friends, he didn’t even have Arianne anymore. What was the point in fighting with this bookworm? It didn’t matter, he was already too far gone. “So why are you out here, do you prance around in that dress every night hoping some burly farm lady will sweep you off your feet?”
“I made dinner… was going to offer you some.” Dorset stomped away. The retreating footsteps were probably meant to convey anger. “And don’t tie this ass to the post, it’s for horses.” He shouted over the distance.
A loud clap startled him awake. Edin’s eyes popped open, he reached for his sword pressed between the bed and the wall and pulled it. In a quick movement, he unsheathed it, dropped to the serpent stance, and looked for an intruder.
Dorset was standing over a pair of boots. One of them was still rocking from side to side from the drop. His roommate stared at him for a moment, he pushed the spectacles from the top of his head down to his nose, pulled them up again and dropped them. “What in the blazes is that?” Dorset asked.
Edin relaxed a bit but he was still annoyed, Dorset dropped his boots just to wake him.
What a blotard, Edin thought. “It’s a sword,” Edin said a standing. “Why did you do that?”
“It’s like… a mirage or a broken mirror or…” his mouth seemed to try and chew on words but without success.
Edin grabbed his sheath and put the sword away. He was in his undertrousers again and turned back to his bed but the sun was already coming up. It didn’t feel like he slept at all… again.
“Your scars… have you seen a lot of battles?”
“No.” Edin bit back a retort despite the unceremonious wake up. “Just a lot of fights.”
“You know how to use that?” Dorset was still eyeing the blade like a lost treasure of the old kingdom.
“I carry it for luck and hope that the bad guys will fall down dead upon seeing it.”
“Has that worked for you?”
“I’m alive aren’t I?” Edin said before grabbing the work trousers and pulling them on. “Unfortunately for your peace and quiet.” He picked up his shirt and got a whiff of his arm pits. Edin recoiled.
“There’s a wash room downstairs… soap too,” Dorset said. “It’s to clean your body and hopefully help with that smell.”
“I know what soap is. You try working the fields and not smelling like a sewer in the lower quarter.”
“Spent a lot of time down there have you?”
“It’s the best place to deposit your kind.” Edin grabbed his clothes and headed toward the stairs, he paused, walked back, picked up his sword, and went down to the washroom.
Dorset said nothing.
After a vigorous scrub with a sponge and soap that held a pungent floral perfume. Edin left with a towel around his waist. Coffee displaced the perfume and Dorset was seated at the small two-person table reading something.
Edin made an effort not to look at the book, but his curiosity got the best of him. The letters were waving and sweeping lines that made no sense to him. Ulstapish, he guessed.
“It’s just coffee,” Dorset said sitting at his table.
Edin paused, adjusted his things, and poured himself a big cup before heading upstairs. Changing into his second uniform he stared at his sword.
Holding it for just those few moments had brought back a strong desire. An urge came over him, he wanted to strap it on and work in the fields with it. Maybe even train on lunch…
Fior would think twice about harassing him. He left it.
Downstairs, Dorset was packing a few things in a shoulder bag. He glanced up at Edin then back down. The book was still on the table with a sheet of paper sticking out of it like a place marker.
Edin poured more coffee into his mug and stared out the small kitchen window toward the ocean. Beneath the window, a wash basin was filled with dirty dishes. Tiny flies darted in and out of them.
“You want to learn spellcraft?” Dorset said.
Edin turned and leaned against the counter, “who said…”
“Mersett,” Dorset interrupted. “Said he’d appreciate it.”
Edin didn’t respond but just stared at the teacher. Maybe he was a good teacher, maybe there were things Edin could learn from him, but the thought of being taught by such a pompous know-it-all… he paused. “I would,” Edin said correcting that thought.
“I’ll help you, but I want you to do something for me. Teach me to fight.”
“You want to fight?” Edin snorted. The man was thin, barely a stick. And in the light of the morning, his head seemed too large for his body like a melon on a broomstick. “Can you even hold a sword?”
“I’m not as weak as I look.”
“How do you know how weak you look?”
“About as stupid as you look I suppose.”
Edin sighed, “I can’t make any promises.”
“Me neither,” Dorset said, “I’ll be back around five, the book on the table is for you. You’ll need to learn Ulstapish. That book is for my remedial students.” He paused. “By the way, your donkey got into my flower beds, ate some of my favorite petunias.”
“Are you an old maid?”
“There’s a shed behind the tower. Use it.”
The workday was the same, Edin, a bit hungover, he sweated mercilessly in the fields despite the perfect climate. He probably drank a gallon of water but he felt as if he were getting better at plowing… though there didn’t seem much to it.
Henny followed, sowing seeds of something called okra, a plant from southern Bestoria.
As the day came to an end, he began to hear horse hoofs beating against the dirt path. Arianne? He thought and looked toward the west.
Then he noticed it was more than one and around the corner of the tall wheat plants, a group of men with dark blue capes rode up.
They dismounted and moved toward Fior.
“Quitting time,” Henny said and led him back toward the cluster of outbuildings.
“Glasorio,” Henny whispered when they were beneath a long awning. “They’re summoning the rains.”
Slowly, the glasorio moved toward the edge of the fields. They held out their palms and closed their eyes. Then, as if being held together by marionette strings, their hands moved in some strange movements as their mouths moved.
Edin was too far away to hear anything they said but a moment later a droplet crashed on the ground before him.
Soon, sheets of rain began to come down. The water washed off their awing like a curtain as the magi continued their work.
After a few minutes, Edin moved out into it. A refreshing wash mixed with a slight chill. Edin opened his mouth and tilted his head back. The rain bounced off his tongue in sprays, but much went down his gullet. He smiled. It felt as clean and fresh as the Crys.
An hour later, the cloaked men mounted their horses and took off toward the south, the farmers departed, and Edin headed to the tower.
It was still light out when he got back and saw the small shed about twenty yards from the tower.
It leaned slightly, like a drunk after closing and it looked old, as if it had stood for a hundred years or more. Soon, he’d have to find a carpenter, Henny maybe, to help him shore up the thing. Edin put Gary inside and gathered a pail of water. It lacked the bare necessities of hay
or oats.
Exhausted, Edin made his way in and found Dorset at the stove. “Did you look at the book?” Said the teacher.
Edin shook his head and went to the washroom. Returning, he noticed the distinct smell of a tomato stew. Edin frowned and sat at the table.
He opened the book, ‘Ulstapish for the Child.’ Edin snorted. “I thought you teach at the university?”
“I tutor some of the gentry’s kids as well.”
As he examined them more closely, Edin found the letters could’ve been considered the same as Borsi, but they had more flourishes, dashes and accent marks that changed sounds. There was written pronunciation of common words.
Dorset brought large bowls of a chili to the table and helped Edin pronounce words. They ate and Dorset continued trying to teach the language into the night.
“Why can’t I just learn the spells?”
“You need the spell words first.”
“Then teach me those.”
“You wouldn’t understand them, then again, I’m not certain you know common tongue.”
As it grew later, and Dorset was beginning to talk of adjectives, verbs, and adverbs, Edin’s eyes glazed over.
“I can’t go on,” Edin said near midnight. He rested his hands in his head and for a moment wondered why he was doing this. His talent and his martial skills had been useful as he escaped Bestoria… and killed many men…
Edin yearned for a drink. A strong one. “You sure there’s no booze in here? I thought snobs loved brandy.”
“It dulls the mind of snobs and fools alike.” He stared hard at Edin.
“I think it opens it,” Edin said.
“You would,” Dorset said. He had been hovering over Edin’s shoulder in the a way that Horston would’ve approved of. “We’ll wake early and you teach me to fight,” Dorset said.
“I’ll try,” Edin said.
The next morning, Edin woke when he heard the creak of a bed. Glancing over he saw Dorset rubbing his eyes beneath his rumpled blond hair.
Edin twisted to the side of his bed and set his feet on the ground. A small unburning lantern lit the room from a bureau overflowing with Dorset’s clothes.
Edin had never been one to be clean, but this was ridiculous.
Dorset looked up as the cot creaked and raised an eyebrow. “Tree?”
It took him a moment to know what Dorset was talking about. “Dail.”
“Walk.”
“Cono.”
“Bhok?” Dorset asked. This was in Ulstapish and it took him a moment to figure it out.
“Epic?” Edin answered. “Do you still want to train?”
“Maybe tonight,” Dorset said rubbing his eyes. He stood and moved downstairs carrying a towel and fresh clothes over his shoulder.
Edin picked up his brown uniform. It smelled terribly but he put it on. Despite the fact that he had spent months in the wilderness and then weeks on a boat with terrible smells, he’d needed to launder these smells out.
Edin glanced up at the clock on the wall, it was a slice of an oak tree with thin metal hands shaped like staffs pointing at the four and the six. Edin laid back and closed his eyes. A short while later, Dorset came back up.
“Why are you up this early?” Edin asked with an arm covering his eyes.
“I like to read before the day.”
“It’s a long hike, why don’t you get a horse?”
Dorset sighed as he poured himself a steaming mug of the black coffee. “There are things that are just not allowed on the island for some people. When I requested this place to get away from… I also tried to requisition a horse from my family. I was denied the permit to build a stable for it.”
“A permit… what is that?”
“It’s a piece of paper that states you can do something… you don’t have permits where you’re from?”
Edin shook his head.
“The FAE told me to use the shed… much too short for a horse.” Dorset sighed. “Guess I didn’t think about a donkey.” Dorset drank from some coffee. “You should know, not everyone is equal here, despite the rhetoric.”
“I figured,” Edin said. There was no way he’d sleep now. He sat up and rubbed his eyes.
“It’s been getting worse. Anyone who Pharont or his friends do not like are given the worst jobs or housing arrangements. It doesn’t matter your skills. I’ve seen the most brilliant alchemist sent to chop lumber, a blacksmith made to clean pots in the castle’s kitchen.”
Edin’s father had left, the magi Laural left… Were these the reasons why? “Why do you let them get away with that?”
Dorset shrugged, “the Otembos are one of the first clans, they’ve always had men in the Praesidium and they control a large swath of land.”
“I thought it was all ruled by the council.”
Dorset shook his head, “they may not technically own the land, but it’s theirs regardless of the name. Half of Brackland, including this tower, is under Pharont’s personal control. His ancestor was one of the magi to have raised it from the sea.”
Edin sighed, so not only was he working the fields like a peasant, he was living under the man’s roof at the edge of the isles.
“Why’d you come here?”
“Casitas. He’s a monster and I couldn’t get away from him. He seems to think he’s a prince and can do whatever he wants,” Dorset sighed. “Mersett seems to think it was because his mother died young and his father spoiled him, gave him everything he wanted… and when his father couldn’t give him something, Casitas took it.”
“I’ve met the type,” Edin said remembering how Dexal used to torment Berka and Kes just to try and get under Edin’s skin. Edin looked up. “Who’d he kill? They always kill someone… or let someone die.”
“He supposedly pushed a dairy farmer girl from the belfry.” Dorset looked at him for a moment and a dawning grew on his face. “You killed him… didn’t you?”
“Who?”
“Your Casitas…”
Edin nodded. “It wasn’t intentional though.”
“Have you killed others?” Dorset said, Edin kept nodding. “Oh,” Dorset looked up toward the clock with an almost fearful face like, he’d spent the last two nights in the same room as a murderer and wasn’t happy about it. “Well I should get going.”
Edin reached his hand toward his neck, groping for the crillio fang that had hung there. It was long gone. Edin closed his eyes, I am just like the crillio, a loner and a killer.
He pushed himself from the bed and marched to the window overlooking the ocean. In the distance, it looked calm.
That day he picked corn, filling countless bushels. As the day was ending, Henny offered him a piece of thick parchment about the size of his palm.
“What’s this?”
“Your chit card.”
“My what?”
“Chit card, you take it to the paymaster in Delrot in exchange for chits. Our currency.”
“Did you take a chit?”
Henny chuckled, “haven’t heard that one before.” Said Henny sarcastically. “Come, let’s get an ale.”
“I do need a refill,” Edin said taking out his empty flask.
Edin stopped in for one drink and refilled the flask with a poor whiskey, he was supposedly on credit and they were wondering if he was ever going to pay said credit.
“Got my chit card today,” Edin said.
The bartender had eyed him suspiciously then nodded and filled the flask.
He was back at the tower by five and standing at the end of the peninsula. Edin steadied his breathing, in and out, softly inhaling the salt laden air and releasing it. He let go of the sounds and smells and tried to just feel the world.
He stepped back and stretched his shoulders, legs, arms, and back. The soreness was less than the previous few days as he got used to working in the field.
Without a thought, he tossed his tunic to the side and slipped into the first Oret Nakosu movement. The sun beat down on him and he
felt as if he were at the edge of the world.
It was freeing, relaxing like standing on the edge of a giant cliff… though one that you couldn’t fall off but you could fly from. That thought kept the dizziness at bay.
The slow breathing and the steady movements calmed his mind and he let everything slip away.
It was almost an hour later when he completed the workout. He was sweaty and tired, but in the good way.
Dorset’s voice came from somewhere behind him. “What was that?”
“Oret Nakosu,” Edin called back without looking.
“Granite… manhood?” Dorset said.
“The name caught me off guard too.”
“What is it for?”
“Increasing speed and strength. If you want to learn to fight still, it could help.” Edin turned back.
“I do.” Dorset said as he looked down at his fine green robe and then back to Edin. “Let me change.”
“Are you going to be nice?”
It took Dorset a moment, “that’s a father joke…” Edin said nothing.
Dorset returned a short while later in a white tunic with sleeves ripped off showing thin wiry arms. The collar hung loose around his neck and he tied the shirt tight around his waist with a leather belt.
On the boat, Edin had started teaching Arianne and Flack, Dorset had worse balance and posture than either of them. His shoulders were hunched, his arms weak and after the first movement, he seemed ready to fall down.
“You need to learn the stances first,” Edin said. “There is more to sword fighting than just swinging a weapon.”
“Over dinner,” Dorset said. “I grabbed something from the cafeteria today. A surprise. Want to get the fire pit started?”
“What fire pit?”
“The northern reach. I dug one out of sight in case that fat fool comes by. You can grab wood on the side of the tower.”
He found what the teacher was talking about. There was a three-foot-wide firepit, a half a foot deep with white and gray ashes. Next to the shed was a rack with chopped wood.
Edin carried it over and set it up in the cone shape. He took a breath and glanced back toward the tower. No sign of Dorset… he knew he shouldn’t but he did. He held out his hand and felt the current in the air. A moment later, a bolt shot from the sky and struck the pit.