How it made his spirit fly!
Reaching the rickety wooden ladder that climbed precariously up the tower to where he and his sister still lived, he tucked the apples into his pockets and began his ascent. Up three long stretches, he eventually came to the floor where they lived. The sun set stopped him in his tracks, bathing the city in rays of flaming red light, Arloth’s finger glinting as it pointed to the heavens. But he didn’t have time to enjoy the majesty of what Arloth gave them, he had to find his sister. He rushed around the gantry to the doorway of their room, bursting in and calling his sister’s name.
But she wasn’t there. The room was as it had been when he left that morning. Blankets crumpled on the floor; trash that he had asked his sister to take down to the Base piled in the corner—a mouse looked out from the refuse in surprise at its meal being interrupted—and his mother’s book of scriptures propped against the wall. Where was she? He tossed around the blankets and saw that Marn’s wooden doll was also missing.
The door behind him swung open to slam into the wall with a bang, making him jump and swivel around.
“Toad!” called the little girl who ran over and squeezed his legs in a tight embrace. “Sorry, I was not here. I was playing. You were gone for so long!”
Concern over the whereabouts of his sister disappeared, to be briefly replaced by anger that she wasn’t back when she was supposed to be; but all that fled at the feel of her arms around him. He hugged her back. “I had a lot of jobs today. I’ve been to many places in the city. Here, I brought you this.” He fished into his pocket and pulled out the apple, handing it to his sister. She snatched it eagerly with both hands and took a bite. “Come on. You can eat while we walk.”
After going all the way up, they now had to head all the way back down. It was slow going with long lines of people waiting for the ladders. They probably made the lines worse too, as Marn was none too steady in her descent. She was too small to be able to scramble up and down them as he did. But each time he made sure he went first, and he waited for her to get on so that he was below her in case she slipped. Sometimes, the longer ladders would creak and groan, even slide around in their tyings as too many people would get on above them. Marn would squeal, in delight or fright Toad wasn’t sure, but he was confident that all would be fine. Arloth would protect them. He had learned that the devoted had a special place in their god’s heart.
They didn’t tarry on the Prom. They found another smaller ladder that took them to the world below, the places that were dark even during the day. The Base. This was typically where the trash of the Ladders ended up. Piles of refuse that would only occasionally be cleared away into the sea, rotting away in place or acting as a grand buffet for the vermin that concentrated there in the meantime—it made Marn’s nose wrinkle in disgust. But it was also where some of the harder elements of Ladders life lived. Bolt holes for thieves. Drinking and skyweed dens lured people in with a few coin and troubles to forget. And amidst the filth, it was where his new family gathered every night.
Their meeting hall was nothing more than an old warehouse, owned by a merchant in the city, that Shep’d said he had permission to use. The few crates that were stored there were pushed to the side to create space in the center; old over-turned wooden boxes were the pews. It was nothing like the church they went to with their mother or the Sanctum, but to Toad, its modesty made it feel more blessed. The people who called themselves the Devoted gathered each night, sharing simple food that had come from somewhere Toad did not know, but he was always grateful for his one hot meal a day. Even when it was just cabbage soup with the odd piece of ham, as it was that night. They lined up with wooden bowls to receive a ladle or two from Felis, a fat man going thin who hobbled around and sweated too much. Toad would sometimes find himself watching the beads of sweat drip down his face, praying to Arloth that they wouldn’t splash into his dinner. Apparently, Felis hadn’t been in Ioth too long either, just a couple of months longer than Toad and Marn. Toad asked him one night why he couldn’t walk very well, and the man had taken off his boot to reveal the roughly healed foot inside, missing three toes. Apparently, he’d walked all the way to Ioth from Mori, even when his foot had been run over by a cart. Felis’ dedication was an inspiration.
He wasn’t the only one with a sad story to tell. There was an old couple, Echa and Maho, who had worked in the kitchens at the Sanctum for twenty years when the entire staff were fired when some silver serving-ware went missing. They lost their nice home in the part of town known as the Fan, and ended up there in the Ladders after their friends and family had shunned them, believing the stories that they had been involved in the theft.
A woman called Agana was there most nights with her three small children, one still nursing. She’d lost her first husband and father of her oldest at sea, but she’d been cast out onto the streets penniless. Agana had traveled to the Sanctum for help but it had proved not to be the safe haven that she had expected, and a second child came not long afterward. Toad wasn’t sure of all the details—Agana didn’t really speak until it was time to sing hymns after dinner—he had learnt this small amount of information as he had walked with Shep’d some days.
When dinner was finished, and they had all helped to clean up, they sung their songs at the top of their lungs—Toad wondered if the people above them on the boardwalk could hear them and what they made of it. Shep’d then took to the front of the room, putting down the pipe he smoked and gesturing for them all to sit. Toad perched on the edge of a box next to Felis; there wasn’t much room given the man’s girth but Toad didn’t mind. Marn didn’t mind her spot on the floor in front of them, either.
“Thank you, friends, for being here tonight,” said Shep’d as he smiled warmly, making eye contact with each of the people in turn. Toad wasn’t too good with numbers once it got past the number of fingers on his hands, but he reckoned there must have been twice as many people there that night than he had things on which to count, so it took a little while for their leader to gaze at them all. “As the season is approaching, I thought tonight we should hear again about the best Wintertide gift anyone has ever received. Children, can you guess what it is?”
“A toy ship!”
“A doll.”
“A magic bowl that is always filled with porridge!”
Shep’d laughed at the last suggestion. “That would indeed be marvelous. But no, it is something else. Any other ideas?”
Toad raised his hand, and when Shep’d nodded toward him, he answered. “It was Arloth.”
“That’s right,” he said, and Toad felt a glow of pride in his tummy, even though he knew it was such a simple question. “Let me tell you about the first Wintertide after Arloth came to us.”
Toad listened as Shep’d told the story that birthed their belief. That birthed the whole religion that united the nations of the Sapphire Sea. He’d heard it before, from his mother, and from priests in Carlburg, but it was something else when he heard it that night. Shep’d talked to the children, but everyone, whether they were one of the strong laborers or the old people like Echa and Maho, they all listened as if they too were children; still and with rapt attention. Because everyone knew that blessed are the children in Arloth’s eyes.
The story started, as it always did, with the rich people of Ioth, though it was a much smaller place then. They were a selfish lot, keeping the poor chained in service to their needs; when one autumn evening, a beam of light shone down from the heavens to bathe one of the then-uninhabited barren islands in a golden glow. The merchant lords consulted with the priests of Atarah, the goddess of the seas—a capricious and spiteful deity they worshiped because of their proximity to the sea—but they did not know its cause. The light shone for twelve days and twelve nights and no one set foot on the isle for fear of falling afoul of witchcraft or a demon’s tricks. That was until one girl not yet old enough to be wed, Iliana her name, escaped her master’s home and swam to the golden light.
There she
found nothing evil, just the body of a golden man, lying still in death. But around him blossomed life; flowers bloomed day and night, squashes and ground fruit grew. All on an island that was nothing but bare rock and dead sand not a fortnight before. The girl touched the man, hoping he was not without life, and though he was stiff with rigor mortis he had not decayed. As her hand moved away from the cold body, she felt a warmth pass up her arm and into her breast before radiating out to her the rest of her extremities.
And thus was born the first of the Saints.
She wandered the island, and as she did so, the earth became fertile beneath her feet and life grew without the need for seed. The First Saint ate what grew there and she became strong, the weakness from her labor and her swim to the island falling away.
Crowds gathered on the edges of the city and people approached on small boats to watch the island become green before their eyes. But still the priests of Atarah warned the people of Ioth not to approach the light for fear of being branded a blasphemer. Days passed and as the First Saint slept, she was visited in her dreams by the golden figure that she had found. He told her his name and he tasked her with helping the forgotten people of Ioth. One morning she called out across the water to the crowds stood there. She encouraged them to swim and join her, to share in the bounty that surrounded her, confident that this was Arloth’s will.
First it was just a few that struggled through the guards lining the walkways of the city. Some were felled by the sword, but others made it into the water and began their swim. They were joined by tens and then hundreds more. Normally those waters are still, but that day they frothed and foamed, rose and sank, sweeping swimmers against the rocks; Atarah herself intervened to keep them from what was promised. Many people were lost that day, but there were those who found the strength to cross and climb up onto the beach to be greeted by the embrace of the First Saint and the love of Arloth in their hearts.
There they raised a house over the golden body and this was the founding of the Sanctum. Weeks passed until Twelfthmonth came, and as the city of Ioth prepared for the Blessing of the Sea, for their annual blood sacrifice in the name of Atarah, the First Saint finally returned to Ioth. But she did not cross by boat, nor did she swim as she had done once before. She stepped lightly across the rippled waters to meet the priesthood’s boats that floated at the entrance to the Sapphire Sea. The First Saint bade them not to spill human blood in the name of their goddess, and though the priests rebelled, she said she would instead take the place of their sacrifice. Still standing on the water, she cut her palm with a simple knife, letting three drops of her golden blood fall into the sea and the waves were stilled. The merchant lords watched these events from their own gilded vessels and a change came over them. Men who had bowed to none other before prostrated themselves that day, embracing her and Arloth in their hearts, knowing that here was a god for humankind.
“And that Wintertide was a joyous occasion,” intoned Shep’d, “one that was remarkable for the charity and the warmth bestowed on the poor people of Ioth. People opened their homes to others. They gave food and clothes. And all the children were celebrated, for it was a child that revealed the light to all.”
Shep’d stood quietly for a moment while the story reverberated around the room and in Toad’s heart. He’d heard this story before, but now, being there in Ioth, it felt much more real. But it also confused him. The preacher gave voice to his troubled thoughts. “Now, where there was once just a simple house stands the Sanctum, and we are not good enough to be allowed admittance. The garden and its bounty are still there, in the Sanctum grounds, much smaller now, and only the select few of the priests can see it and eat of its abundance. And Wintertide is no longer a time for giving, but a time for taking.” Shep’d stopped for a moment and wiped at misty eyes with his finger. “I do not talk with Arloth. I am not the Saint or the Archimandrite. But I do not think Arloth would be pleased with what this city has become.”
There were nods and cries of ‘yes’ around Toad. Somebody at the back called out “What can we do?” Toad craned his neck to see who it was.
“Yes! That is the right question. What can we do?” said Shep’d. “All of us, we must carry the true message to the people of Arloth, like the First Saint did that very special Wintertide. Talk to your neighbors, the people you work with. Stand on street corners and raise your voices!”
People stood and walked over to Shep’d to shake his hand, and then to do the same with their neighbors. Toad and Marn had a circle of grown-ups around them who shook their hands in turn, mouthing “blessed be the children” as they did so.
The meeting wound down, but the congregation left with Arloth in their hearts, and Toad could see that they all would follow Shep’d’s instructions tomorrow. Toad did not make for the door though; he fidgeted on the spot, unsure what to do. He wanted to help too. The adults all had an idea of what to do. He could do something more than run errands for Shep’d, if only he knew what.
As the crowd around Shep’d thinned, Toad approached him and asked how he could help. The man smiled and led him to the rear of the room where his satchel waited. He pulled from it a small pile of papers, a hammer, and a small pouch that tinkled as he shook it.
“I was going to do this myself,” said the preacher, “but I think you would be perfect for this job. Take these notices and post them around the city.” Toad loved the heft of the hammer in his hand; it made him feel like a grown up. “If you do a good job you may keep it. But don’t sell it. There will be need of it later.”
Toad nodded eagerly and then quickly rushed in and gave Shep’d a hug. It filled him with pride that this godly man trusted him. He would not let him down. He would do the best job he could do. Toad and Marn left the meeting hall and climbed the long way back up to their room. The dark of the night was broken only by stubs of melted candles by the ladders and the lights that shone from open windows.
He tucked his sister into her blanket, her eyes closed before he had even finished, and he laid down as if to sleep. But there was a fire burning inside him that would not let him sleep. Why wait until the morning? Marn was fast asleep, so he grabbed the things that Shep’d had given him and rushed out, eager for there to be twenty new notices greeting the people at dawn.
Toad wandered the city on foot, venturing into areas that he had not been before, seeing sights that he had not seen before. Parts of the city were shuttered and quiet for the night already, though the lights that burned along all the streets gave his passage a feeling of safety. He’d stop and find a good spot where he could hammer in his nails and fix the notice that he couldn’t read, wary and only doing so when he couldn’t see others passing, particularly the city guard. Parts of Ioth were still awake, drunkards and other revelers standing outside taverns, brothels with open windows and the women inside attracting passersby (Toad tried very hard to avert his eyes and ignore the calls he received to remember where to return in a few years when he had hair on his chin), and that made it harder to find a moment of quiet to post his signs. But patience was with him.
It had been many hours by the time he found himself in the Fan and with only one sign left. The streets were quiet and he passed an inn that had a nice clear patch of wall, in clear sight of the street, which he thought would be a good location. He hammered the nails into the wall, proud of his work, and turned to find three men standing behind him. How had he not heard them? One was tall, dark as shadow; another was huge and hulking with a smile that gave Toad the willies; and the third’s face was hidden in the dark of a hood, an evil looking bird perched on his shoulder.
The bird man leaned forward to look at the hand written sign while Toad backed up against the wall.
“Arloth is watching. Cease your drinking and debauchery. Remember the true light this Wintertide,” the bird man read out loud. A drunk stumbled out from the inn, slurring something as he zig-zagged down the cobbled street. The bird man laughed. “Are you sure you’ve got your target audien
ce right?” His friends laughed too, and they took a menacing step forward.
Toad raised his hammer and they stopped their advance. “Get back,” he called. They paused for a moment and Toad took advantage; turning and running away, his bare feet slapping against the hard street as he heard mean men laughing behind him. Toad did not stop running until he reached the Ladders, zipping up to his room and Marn, who still lay deep in slumber.
Chapter 30
The Blessing of the Sea
Jill’s knee pushed painfully into the small of Alana’s back as she pulled on the thin cord that drew the corset tight. Alana grunted. Next came the dress, sunburst-yellow, over the three petticoats she had to wear. Three! Alana was not particularly keen on the fashions of Ioth, but Jill had insisted that she look her best for the first day of Wintertide and her meeting with the Saint. Buttons were fastened on the back of the dress and Alana was helped to sit before the bedroom mirror.
While Jill brushed at Alana’s hair, Alana spent a moment studying the young woman reflected before her. Jill was dressed in a similar fashion to her, though Arloth only knew how she had managed to look so good without anyone to help her get ready. Alana would have been glad to help her, she’d even offered a few days ago, but Jill would not hear of it. She had protested quite vehemently when Alana had moved to look inside her trunk to choose what to wear, and so she had backed away. She was so glad of Jill’s company, of her capability, that she hadn’t pushed the issue. She supposed she was right that given her role she shouldn’t be undermining it by acting as a servant, but it made her wonder how Petra would react to having a maid. She supposed it wouldn’t be long; she and Mareth had to get married soon, surely.
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