Jekaran leaned his head against the cold stone of the prison wall and closed his eyes. He had heard of a man who was caught with a staff capable of emitting balls of fire. The king stripped the nobleman of everything he owned, his wife and children were sold into slavery and he was exiled from the kingdom. And that was a nobleman!
He trembled. Ez’s claim that hanging was not outside the realm of possible punishments for a farmer caught with a weapon talis took on a new level of credibility. Jekaran opened his eyes to realize he had unconsciously been touching his throat and quickly withdrew his hand.
“Who’re you?” a voice asked from behind him.
Jekaran looked over to the corner of the cell and saw a round-faced man staring blearily at him. His full face sprinkled with stubble and disheveled peppered hair seemed out of place against the clean, but worn, brown robe and tattered soft leather boots.
“A dead man,” Jekaran replied morosely.
“What did you do?”
“I don’t care to talk about it,” Jekaran said, his voice taut.
“What’s your name?” the chubby man persisted.
Jekaran’s already frayed temper flared and he turned toward the chubby man and snapped, “I don’t want to talk to you!”
The chubby man looked taken aback. He settled back into his corner and calmly said, “I can see you wish to be alone with your thoughts. If, however, you need counsel in this, your desperate hour, please feel free to call upon me. My name is Brother Irvis of the Rasheeran Monastery.”
The words shocked Jekaran like a full-bore dive into a freezing pond. Irvis? Ez’s friend from his days in the Rikujo? It couldn’t be! This man was a monk. Then again, Ez had told him to look for Irvis at the monastery. Jekaran slowly turned to face the man.
“Irvis?”
“Yes, child,” the monk replied as he settled back onto a pile of hay and closed his eyes.
“Do you know a man named Ezra from the village of Genra?”
Irvis opened his eyes and sat up at the mention of Jekaran’s uncle. “Depends,” he said with a note of very un-monk-like suspicion in his voice. “Who’s asking?”
“I have a message from him,” Jekaran fished in his pocket and produced a piece of paper, the one thing the guards hadn’t taken from him.
Irvis took the letter, unfolded it, and squinted as he read. “Oh dear.” Irvis glanced at Jekaran. “Kaul?”
Jekaran nodded his head in confirmation, and Irvis resumed deciphering the message.
“This is not good,” he muttered. After another moment of reading, his head snapped up and he looked at Jekaran with new eyes. “Where’s the sword?”
The question made Jekaran wince.
“Divine Mother!” Irvis gasped. “Tell me that you didn’t use it!”
Jekaran grimly nodded. “Against a gang of footpads trying to kill me.”
Irvis nodded slowly. “Then you really are a dead man.”
“Thanks for the words of comfort,” Jekaran scoffed as he turned away from Irvis. “Is that why the other monks sent you here? Because you’re so good at comforting the damned?”
Irvis chuckled nervously. “They didn’t send me here.”
Jekaran whipped around. “You’re a prisoner?”
“Technically—”
“What did you do?” Jekaran demanded.
Irvis’ eyes fell to the ground, shame shading his chubby face pink. “There was a,” he hesitated, “misunderstanding with myself and Lord Eckleton’s wife.”
“A misunderstanding?”
“Yes.” Irvis raised his eyes to meet Jekaran’s. “I was at his manor, tending to his sickly mother when I, by pure happenstance you understand, saw Lady Eckleton bathing in an adjoining room. Seems,” he chuckled nervously, “one of the servants had left the door open just enough to allow me to see her disrobe and enter the bath. Lord Eckleton caught me watching and accused me of spying on his wife for perverse reasons.”
The incredulity of Irvis’ story almost made Jekaran laugh aloud. “You’re a peeper!”
“I most certainly am not!” Irvis said indignantly and then seemed to shrink. “I just saw a beautiful woman and couldn’t help but want to see more of her.”
This time Jekaran did laugh. “A horny holy man!”
Irvis scowled. “Living a celibate life is very difficult for a man who used to bed a different maid every night. Rasheera forgive me, but I do try. Until yesterday, it had been almost three months since my last,” he paused to choose his words carefully, “lapse in commitment.”
Jekaran felt the death cloud over him lighten a little, and couldn’t help but to continue to laugh.
Irvis’ face reddened. “You know, back in his day, your uncle was a bigger womanizer than even I was!”
Seeing his indignant reaction stifled Jekaran’s laughter. “I’m sorry,” he cleared his throat. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s the idea I find funny.”
“Well, I am glad I was able to raise your spirits in your desperate hour.” The sarcasm dripped from his every word as he turned his back to Jekaran to lay down on his pile of straw.
He’s pouting! Jekaran realized, and then he began to pity the older man. “So you joined the brotherhood of the goddess to hide from the Rikujo?” He hoped the topic change would assuage Irvis’ wounded pride.
Irvis rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “That was part of it.”
“You’re a true believer?” Jekaran asked, not able to mask his surprise.
“Yes,” Irvis answered simply. “I left the Rikujo just a few months after Argentus,” he paused to correct himself, “I mean Ezra. I had wanted out for years, but it wasn’t until your uncle left that I had the courage to leave myself. In fact, he helped me get out.”
“And then you found religion?”
Irvis nodded awkwardly, his fingers laced together behind his head. “That’s something of an oversimplification, but yes. I found the Divine Mother’s mercy.”
Like Ez
Jekaran was about to ask for details when he heard the door to the dungeon open. He scooted forward; his face pressed against the bars of his cell, cold fear reminding him of his plight while he strained to see who was coming. They couldn’t have reviewed my case already! But what if they had? Could this be the hangman coming for him?
Footsteps brought three figures into view. One was clearly the jailer, and the two who followed were …
Oh no Jekaran groaned as he sank on his haunches. Lyam and Gymal. The shy boy must’ve somehow seen what had happened on the bridge, and taken the news to Gymal.
Gymal grinned as he stopped in front of Jekaran’s cell. “Well, well. It looks like you’ve finally been caught, Jekaran. I knew it would happen eventually. I just didn’t think it would be for such a grievous offense.”
“What’s going to happen to me?” The pathetic fear in his voice filled him with angry embarrassment.
“That’s for the magistrate to decide,” Gymal said. “You could be facing the noose.”
Jekaran saw Lyam shoot a shocked glance at Gymal. Apparently, the boy hadn’t expected the short, nasally man to act so coolly.
Gymal continued, “However, because I am a gracious lord, I entered a plea for mercy on your behalf. I am not sure how well it was received, but your youth may earn you a degree of forbearance. I’d say the most you could hope for would be lifelong, indentured servitude. Perhaps the magistrate will even sell you to me.”
Jekaran saw Lyam nervously look back and forth between him and Gymal. Had the boy actually thought Gymal would help him?
“And the sword?” He grimaced. The thought had come into his mind and left out of his mouth before he had time to consider it.
Gymal looked a bit surprised by the question. “When the magistrate here learned that you were part of my expedition, he turned it over to me so that I may present it to the king upon my return home.” He paused to study Jekaran. “How did you come by a weapon talis, anyway?”
Jekaran was
n’t about to give away his uncle’s involvement. “It fell from the sky, right into my lap.” He flashed his teeth in a grin of defiance.
Gymal’s expression darkened. “Fine, keep your secrets. It doesn’t really matter how you got it.” He turned away from the cell. “I will pass through here when the expedition is finished to see if you have been spared execution. If so, I will make an offer on you, if someone hasn’t already bought you. Perhaps the months of waiting will give you time to consider how fortunate you are to have me as your liege-lord.” With that, he strode out of view.
Jekaran heard the dungeon door swing open and then shut as Gymal left, punctuating the finality of his condemnation. He fought the threatening tears, and looked up again, feeling eyes upon him, to find Lyam staring.
“What?” he snapped.
“I-I was just trying to help,” the boy said softly.
“Yeah, well, you didn’t!”
Jekaran’s angry words appeared to strike Lyam as though he had physically slapped him.
“I’m sorry,” the boy whimpered.
“Leave me alone.”
“But …”
“GO!” he screamed.
Tears rolled down Lyam’s face and the boy broke into a shamed retreat.
The jailer curiously studied Jekaran before turning to leave the prison.
The backlash of his own cruelty struck Jekaran and he sank to the floor feeling utterly defeated. How had this happened? he asked himself. It was the crazy noblewoman, he remembered. Had she not been so foolish as to walk the streets of the city alone, and at night, he wouldn’t have needed to intervene and wouldn’t have needed to use the sword. No, he couldn’t blame this on the woman. He had been sincere in his desire to rescue her, but he knew there was more to it than that. The Lure, Ez had called it, Jekaran’s appetite for excitement and adventure. He knew and could not deny his uncle was right. It was the Lure that had driven him to defy fear and danger, and she had been merely an excuse. He hadn’t needed to jump right in so recklessly. He likely could have found a city guard had he looked harder, or scared the toughs away by making a lot of noise and shouting for help. But something about the danger had been alluring, even intoxicating.
“You were right, Ez,” he whispered. “You were right.”
Kairah cautiously approached the sobbing girl. She was sitting on the ground, back up against the alley-side wall of the Wandering Willow Inn. She wasn’t dressed like the other human females Kairah had seen since entering Rasha, who all appeared to go to great lengths to accentuate their breasts and show off their hips. No, this girl was dressed to appear as non-feminine as any man Kairah had seen.
The girl started and looked up at Kairah through blood-shot eyes. She said nothing, but Kairah could sense the fear rising in her.
“Do not be afraid,” Kairah said as she raised both of her hands, her open palms facing the girl. Jenoc had taught her doing so was a sign humans understood as lack of intent to harm. He also said humans had no compunctions about lying, but she was certain that didn’t apply to this girl.
The girl appeared to relax. She scrubbed her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt and said, “You’re the one Jek rescued. Forgive me if I don’t stand, my lady.”
Something in the girl’s tone seemed wrong. Sarcasm, Kairah abruptly realized. The girl must resent her for the arrest of the girl’s friend. Kairah tightened her lips. Well, there was some truth to that.
“I do apologize,” Kairah said sincerely. “Although I was never in any real danger, I am truly grateful for his intervention on my behalf.”
The girl looked up at Kairah with a strange look on her face. “They were going to rape and murder you,” she said flatly.
Do not forget that you look as helpless as any other human female, Aeva said. Kairah didn’t respond. She was so far away from Allose now that communicating with the Spirit Lily took a distracting amount of concentration.
“Why are you dressed like that?” Kairah asked. The question was equal parts curiosity and effort to steer the conversation away from her verbal slip.
Suddenly, the girl looked nervous. “Sorry?”
“You are not dressed like the others of this city.”
“That’s because I’m poor,” the girl replied stiffly.
Kairah shook her head. “I was not referring to the quality of your clothing, but the style. I have observed other women dress to call attention to the fact they are female, whereas you dress to hide your figure.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “You know I’m a …” she cut off and dropped her eyes to the ground.
“You are trying to hide your gender?”
“What do you want from me?” the girl snapped.
Like you, she is in disguise, Aeva observed.
“I want to help you secure your friend’s release.”
The girl looked at her for a long moment before finally asking, “You’re a noblewoman?”
Kairah hesitated. “Yes,” she said. It wasn’t a lie, exactly, for she was descended from an Allosian Oracle, granting her family a measure of honor and prestige.
“What can you do?”
Kairah straightened. “I can speak to the authorities and clarify that your friend, Jek—”
“Jekaran,” the girl interrupted.
Kairah nodded. “That Jekaran was simply coming to my aid. That those men meant harm and he defended me.”
“That’s not why he’s in prison,” the girl said morosely.
“He did something other than take life?” Kairah suddenly felt confused. She had been sure she had a thorough understanding of basic human jurisprudence.
The girl drew up her knees and hugged them. “He was arrested for using a weapon talis, and will either be sold into slavery or executed.”
“That is a capital offense?” Kairah said before she could stop herself.
The girl stared at her with a look of confused suspicion. “Of course it is.”
Kairah could feel Aeva’s wordless disgust for her continued carelessness. Ignoring the Spirit Lily’s disapproval, she nodded to herself and said, “Then we will need to use other means to free him.”
The girl’s expression grew darker. She glanced at Kairah’s bare feet and said, “You are very odd, even for a noble. Are you sick in the head?”
Kairah wasn’t sure how to answer that, so she didn’t. “Do you wish to help me free your friend, Jekaran?”
The girl slowly nodded. “Why do you care what happens to people like us?”
People like us? It took a moment for Kairah to realize the girl was referring to their human caste system. “I wish to honor his gallantry, and I am also in need of a guide.”
Now that was a lie. True, a guide would make it easier for her to reach the king, but Kairah had seen something in the boy—Jekaran—that marked him as a Fated Soul. Not many among her people understood or accepted that concept. But, being the descendant of an Oracle, Kairah had made seeing the signs of fate the focus of her early studies at the College of Disciplines. She had not yet experienced the gift of The Fifth Discipline, seeing into the future, and she knew she may never experience it. However, she had learned to recognize when people and, sometimes, things were destined to play a significant role in the near future.
It manifested as a slight shimmer of light that pulsed away from the person, like the ripples that flowed away from an object that disturbed a body of water. It wasn’t a constant thing, displaying only in moments when the Fated Soul’s choices were locking them into a pattern of events that would lead them to their destiny, and when the seer’s future intertwined with the Fated Soul. She saw these ripples of light emanating from Jekaran when he attempted to rescue her, and then again when she watched him bond the sword talis. Keeping Jekaran close seemed wise.
It is the will of Apeira, she heard Aeva echoing her own belief.
“A guide to where?” the girl asked.
The question interrupted Kairah’s reverie and she asked, “I am sorry?”
/> The girl sighed in frustration and then repeated herself in a patronizingly slow cadence. “You–said–you–needed–a-guide. A guide to where?”
“To your capital city to seek an audience with your king.”
“Who are you?” the girl demanded.
Kairah hesitated for a moment. “My name is Kairah, and I am a messenger. I have vital information I need to deliver to your king. However, I continue to encounter unanticipated complications and, therefore, require a cultural native to guide me. Your friend won my admiration with his selfless effort to aid me at his own peril, and, as a result, I have chosen him to be that guide.”
The girl stared at her for a long moment, skepticism rife on her face. Finally she said, “You can get Jek out of jail?”
“I believe so,” Kairah said.
The girl replaced her spectacles, slowly nodded, and stood. “Then I’ll help,” she said.
Jekaran spent the better part of the next day in depressed indolence. Not that there was much else he could do but lounge and sleep. Not much passed between him and Irvis. The monk appeared to have lost his desire for conversation, and so Jekaran left him alone and took to counting rats for a distraction.
He was up to twenty-four.
Although he didn’t have a clock, he could tell that it was hours past noon which meant Gymal and the crew had departed the city. With Uncle Ez’s sword, he mourned. How had things gone so completely wrong? One moment he was at the threshold of excitement and adventure, and the next moment, a condemned prisoner sharing a cell with a reluctant pervert.
Jekaran cast a glance at Irvis. The man sat with his back to Jekaran, shoulders slumping and white hair disheveled. He looked as pathetic as Jekaran felt. The sorry sight of the man bound to a similar situation struck a chord of empathy in Jekaran.
“How long are they going to keep you in here?” he asked.
The Lure of Fools Page 10