by J Seab
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Willow, her thoughts still on the story of the Mysteries of Bathus, lifted her eyes at the thump of boots and examined the man accompanying Twine.
He appeared old, but more wizened than worn. His face was deeply tanned, the skin folded and crinkled across his forehead and around light-gray eyes that sparkled when they moved, making them look almost silver. A neatly cropped beard softened angular cheeks and chin. It was mostly white, but a darker goatee swirled about a stoic mouth, which warred with the sensitivity reflected in the rest of his face. Scattered waves of brown hair, heavily streaked with white, sprouted from his head at various lengths and angles as if he used his wood ax to trim his hair and the wind to comb it. On any other face, it might look unkempt. On his it lent an aura of erudition and unconfined confidence. Overall, he was a big man, tall and strongly built. Broad shoulders tapered to a trim waist. A loose, dusty-white cotton shirt that hung to mid-thigh was cinched at his waist with a wide belt that held several small pouches. His dark-green pants and leather boots appeared worn and heavily travel-stained.
The two men halted a pace away. Sweeping an arm, Twine said, “I’d like you all to meet an old friend and companion, Everam.”
“I know you,” Geldane exclaimed, pointing. “You’re that wandering mystic, or something, who came by here a number of years ago.”
Everam bowed. “I confess, I am that person, although mystic isn’t exactly what I call myself.”
“What, then?”
“I am a Historian, a seeker of lore and wisdom, an arbitrator of integrity and justice, a purveyor of lessons past to counsel today’s choices, and, perhaps most importantly, I chronicle the events of the world to preserve its truths.”
“Wow,” Geldane said. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Well,” Geldane said excitedly, reaching for the oddment, “then you can—”
“Wait,” Mel said with a sharp look, placing his hand over the oddment.
“Well, then,” Geldane fumbled, glancing at Willow and Mel, “then, you must travel a lot,” he said lamely.
“Indeed I do,” Everam said, with an amused look.
“No need to be evasive,” Twine said reassuringly, patting Mel’s shoulder. “Everam is absolutely trustworthy. We’ve worked together since before you were born, Geldane.”
Geldane looked across to Willow.
Willow, eyes still studying Everam, didn’t immediately answer. Everam met her gaze steadily, his soft smile and the sparkle in his eyes comforted her as if they’d shared a lifetime of close friendship. She smiled back, the tensions of the day dissolving. “Please join us,” Willow said, indicating a chair. “Have you been on the road all day?”
“Yes,” Everam responded, sitting. Twine pulled a chair over from the next table and squeezed in beside Geldane. “I’ve come from Spirit Hill.”
“Do you teach there?”
“Sometimes. Mostly I consider myself a student. There is much to learn, past, present, and future,” he said, eyes focusing on the oddment partly concealed by Mel’s hand.
“Twine said you work together?” Willow prompted, drawing his attention back to her.
“In a way. A Historian needs lots of eyes and ears to learn the stories of Etus. Twine is kind enough to share some of those with me. As the proprietor of a popular traveler’s inn, he is admirably situated to learn much about what happens within Etus.”
Willow settled easily into the conversation, her posture relaxing. “I’ve heard of Historians before. A rather exclusive and dedicated group, it is said. Many people aren’t even aware of their existence.”
“True on all counts. There are few of us.”
“That means, then, that you are also a called Servitor, a Servitor chosen by approbation by the communities of Etus for special services and responsibilities. Should I address you as Phant Everam?” she asked with a grin.
He sighed. “Technically, yes, I suppose I am. But that title was imposed on me so many years ago I rarely think of it.” Everam opened his hands. “I’d prefer that you refer to me simply as Everam.”
“What, exactly, do you do?” Geldane asked, jumping into the exchange.
“I travel a lot,” Everam answered, smiling. “And I listen a lot, and write it all down in journals.”
“Perhaps we should get to the point,” Twine interjected. “As you noted, Everam has had a long day.” He gestured at his son. “Would you give us the short version about the dolfina and this oddment?”
“I can start,” Mel volunteered. He lifted his hand off the oddment and began rolling the cylinder back and forth with his fingers as he related the highlights of the rescue and death of the dolfina. A few flakes of the cylinder’s incrustation fell to the table.
Willow picked up the report from that point, telling them about Swiik’s conversation with Misti and the Mysteries of Bathus. Everam, his interest evident, reached over and took the oddment from Mel and examined it more closely. It wasn’t long before his attention shifted completely to the story, his eyes fixed on Willow, his expression intent. Even Geldane and Mel were quietly focused on the retelling. Twine, sitting back in his chair, seemed more amused than intrigued, his gaze flickering between Everam and Willow. Safflower stopped by briefly to let Everam know that his bath was ready. He nodded absently, as if the remark barely registered within his consciousness. Willow finished her report.
“And that’s where we’re at,” Willow concluded. “We don’t understand the significance of this oddment. We’re not sure how much of the Mysteries of Bathus is currently relevant, and we’ve made no progress in opening that cylinder.” She pointed at the oddment. “Nor, for that matter, do we even know if it opens.”
Turning the oddment over in his hands, Everam reflected, “There is more in the Bathus story than you may suspect. And this,” he said, raising the oddment, “is a critical component of that story.”
“You believe,” Willow asked, “that this is something that requires our immediate attention? That the dolfinas are warning us of imminent danger?”
“You’re familiar with sentient dolfinas?” Everam asked.
“I’ve had some contact. Misti visits us often, and I go to Dolfina Beach periodically, when time permits.”
Geldane, interrupting, poked a finger. “You think there’s something inside?”
“Indeed, I do,” Everam said, his gaze fixed on Willow.
Standing, Twine reached over and plucked the oddment from Everam’s hands. “And we’ll explore all this further tomorrow,” he said adamantly. “I’ll keep this in a safe place until then. You, Everam, have a bath waiting. And you, son, have some chores to finish before bedtime.”
“But, Dad, we need to wash it off, see if there’s any writing or marks on it,” Geldane protested.
“Tomorrow.”
Pushing his chair back, Everam reluctantly agreed. “Your dad is right, Geldane. Tonight, while we are worn from the events of the day, is not a good time to be prying at that oddment. Tomorrow will be better. We can meet at the Doma, it’s a much better place to investigate.”
Scowling, Geldane acceded.
“I think I’d better get back to work,” Mel said. “You won’t need me tomorrow, will you?”
“Thanks, Mel,” Willow said sincerely, reaching a hand out to him. “Your help was invaluable. We’ll let you know what we find.”
“We are agreed,” Everam said, rising. “I’ll meet you, Willow and Geldane, at the Doma first thing in the morning. I’ll, of course, bring the oddment.” He turned to Twine. “I need to let Snow back in, then I’ll have that bath.”
“Snow?” Geldane exclaimed. “That huge black dog I saw you with is named Snow?”
“Don’t go that way,” Twine warned. “And, especially, don’t ask him what he named his white horse.”
Geldane opened his mouth but snapped it shut when Twine glared at him.
Everam just smiled as he followed Mel to the door to call Snow. He noted that M
urfy was gone, his mug abandoned on the table.
Chapter 4