Chapter 4
Mistress sat further down the bench with the children next to her, their round faces fixated on the green flame that rose from the floor at the front of the hall. The figures in cloaks chanted as they slowly paced around the strange fire, their heads hung low as they chanted, shadows danced, large and black, against the barren stone walls.
Shaol looked around at the other benches, they were empty except for an old Mistress who looked on with a simple smile, her skin sagged from her face and bulged at the base of her neck where the tight collar of her leather dress pushed it up and out. Another, much younger, Under sat next to the old Mistress, a large silver bowl of water in her hands. Shaol turned back to the flame at front of temple and waited while the chanting continued, he thought he could understand some of the words but simply let them pass through his mind as he had little interest in them or business that had brought Mistress to this place.
Shaol had been brought to hail back the two sacks of flour from the storehouse which Mistress had arranged for the feast to celebrate Master’s return from the fields. Shaol looked forward to straining his back with the heavy load which was as strong as it had ever been, strong enough to haul water from the lake with all four of the sacks completely full.
The green flame gave off a large amount of heat and Shaol started to sweat, he wiped at his brow. Then, without warning, the chanting stopped and the figures in the cloaks became still, one stepped in front of the flame and lowered his hoods revealing a bald, dried, slender face. The one in the cloak held out his hands. Mistress stood quickly, her leather dress squeaked and cracked as she moved, walked down the aisle of the hall and stopped before the one in front. In her hands Mistress held the golden cup which she had filled with poison water from an old fountain in front of the hall before they had entered.
The cup glistened green in the brilliant light of the flame, she handed it to the cloaked man who looked down on Mistress without emotion. He raised the cup high in both hands and started to shout words that Shaol knew he did not understand. The man then turned towards the flame and thrusted the cup into the fire. His hand should have blistering and burnt, but it didn’t, the cloaked man should have cried in pain, but his face remained still and empty. Shaol suddenly became interested in the ones in front of him. The cloaked man turned his head from the flame and looked at Mistress.
“Do you devote your life fully to Zeria?” he asked through dry, cracked lips.
“Yes,” said Mistress bowing her head
“Do you believe Zeria hears and knows you?”
“Yes.”
The cup was pulled from the flames and held it in front of Mistress. She took it in her hands and she yelped with pain, the cup dropped to the ground and scattered across the stone floor.
“Drink,” yelled the cloaked man.
Mistress fell to the ground. The benches blocked Shaol’s view of what was happening, but he could see Mistresses grand dress fly as she crawled across the floor. Shaol had never seen anything like it before, the sight of another giving Mistress made him grit his teeth and his stomach to drop. Shaol watched on as Mistress struggled on the floor, he wanted to help her but he had not been addressed, so he remained seated next to children.
Mistress stood again and the cloaked man nodded at her. She returned to her seat and the old Mistress rose slowly form her bench and approached the flames, the Under followed with the large, silver bowl.
The cloaked man took the bowl in both hands and thrusted it into the flames.
“Do you devote your life fully to Zeria?”
“Yes,” croaked the old Mistress.
“Do you believe Zeria hears and knows you?”
“Yes.”
The cloaked man removed to the bowl from the flames and held it in front of her. The old Mistress seized it in both hand and her skin started to pop and sizzle, filling the space with the disgusting smell of burning flesh. She drank from the bowl, her lips hissed as they touched the hot metal.
Shaol jumped from his seat as the Mistress drink the poison water, he had to stop her. One of the children grabbed his arm.
“Sit,” said the young Master quietly.
Shaol lowered himself back to the bench watching the old Mistress empty the bowl. The Mistress did not collapse nor did she show any signs of pain, when she had finished drinking the Under held out a bag the old Mistress slipped the bowl inside. Shaol wiped the sweat from his brow, unable to believe what he had seen.
The man in the front of the flame nodded and the old Mistress started back to her seat. As she did, the dried out man looked at Shaol with a hard, empty stare. As their eyes met, Shaol felt a power rush through him then the cloaked man turned back to the flame.
“Zeria has seen your sacrifice,” yelled the man and then added quietly, “but it is not be enough. In four days time she will hear your cries again.”
The flame was gone and Shaol could see nothing in the perfect black. The hall was quite, the children next to him did not move, then the door of the hall opened on their own, the cloaked men had formed a line in aisle between the benches, they started to chant again, words Shaol heard and did not know. They walked past the Mistress, out the door and into the daylight of the city.
The hall became silent and after a short time Mistress stood.
“Children, come,” she said simply and then her eyes snapped to Shaol with a hard look, “and you.”
Shaol and the children rose obediently and silently from their seats. They followed Mistress into the dirt square that sat in front of the hall. Shaol looked at the poison well which sat by the door bubbled as they past. Shaol caught the sound of chanting on the wind, the ones in the grey cloaks were at the edge of the square, disappearing into the city.
Mistress led the group through the streets to the marketplace. Mistress walked directly to a stall that sold silver and gold jewellery. The children stood beside her not moving or speaking, they waited until Mistress spoke to them. One by one each was asked which of the gems were their favourite, each step forward, quickly surveyed the jewellery, gave a simple, quiet answer to their mother and then stepped back from the stall.
“You,” barked Mistress at Shaol after she had brought a new chain, “two sacks of flour for Master Aksit from the warehouse.”
Shaol walked away from the group and found the warehouse at the edge of marketplace. Two Masters dressed in armour stood in front for the building, both armed with large swords.
“What?” one snapped.
“Two sacks of flour for Master Aksit,” said Shaol.
The guard looked at Shaol and then at the boy that stood next to him. The guard banged on the door hard and fast.
“Order for Aksit.”
After a short while, the door swung open and a Master stood in the doorway with a book. He looked at the two Unders in front of him.
“Come,” he ordered.
Shaol walked forward, the small blonde, boy followed not looking up from the ground.
The Master led the way through the storeroom, crates of cloth and wood lined the first few shelves, then jars of strange looking things of red and green floating in water, then rope made of soft materials, boxes made of wood. Shaol felt something rough against his back, he looked back and saw the boy was stuffing a small knot of fabric bound by rope down the back of Shaol’s pants. The boy looked at him, nodded quickly and then pulled Shaol’s shirt over it to hide the fabric.
The Master had gotten ahead of them, Shaol quietly caught up, the Master not noticing the boy slipping away for a moment before reappearing, slightly fatter than before. At the back of the long building sat a pile of sacks.
“Here, take two,” said the Master marking something in his book.
Shaol picked up one and the boy came forward took the other in hand. The Master then led them back down through the rows of precious goods, this time the boy stayed next to Shaol the entire time and then the two were back into the city.
“This way,” whispe
red the boy once they were clear of the guards and slipped down the side of the warehouse and down a few alley.
“My thanks,” said the boy and placed the bag of flour on the ground.
The boy pulled out a leather sack from under his shirt and started to fill it with the goods he had tucked into pockets that had been sown into his clothes. The boy pulled out a round, red fruit and held it out to Shaol.
“This is for you,” said the boy.
Shaol looked at the gift and smiled with amusement.
“Who are you?” asked Shaol.
The boy was slowly becoming thin again as the goods where moved quickly into the sack.
“Raphtune the Missing,” said the boy.
“Who gave you that name?”
“Gave it to myself,” said Raphtune, “you’re Shaol, right?”
“Yes,” said Shaol shocked that the boy knew him, “how did you know?”
“I know this city, well enough,” replied the boy, “everyone thinks you got the knife. You with Aksit now?”
“Yes.”
“The others’ll be happy to know,” said Raphtune and then point at the fruit, “you can eat that.”
“You have it,” said Shaol handing the gift back, “you have escaped your Master?”
“Raphtune the Missing has no Master. No cage can hold him,” said the boy sternly.
“Why are you here, then?”
“Seeing the wonders of Gart,” smiled Raphtune and then motioned to the remaining bulges in his shirt, “I just need a few more things before I can move on.”
Shaol took the brown cloth from his belt and handed the fabric to Raphtune, enjoying the feeling of the soft material for a moment.
“What’s this for?”
“A cloak,” said Raphtune taking the fabric, “it’ll help me blend into the dirt, my usual wares are a bit bright for this place.”
“Do you know a boy name, Horsuun?”
“No.”
“Can you find him?”
“Raphtune the Missing can find any man for the right price.”
“I helped you today,” said Shaol, “is that enough?”
“Sure,” said Raphtune with a smile, “it shouldn’t be hard.”
“Thank you, Raphtune the Missing. When you find the boy you can talk to me through the grate of Master Aksit’s home in the early morning. I wake with the water caravan.”
“I’m sure you do,” laughed the boy to himself, “here, let me help you with the flour.”
Shaol knelt and Raphtune placed the second sack of the flour onto his shoulder.
“I’ll find you when I’ve found Horsuun,” said Raphtune and with that the boy darted off down the side street.
Shaol returned to the marketplace where Mistress was now inspecting the leather dresses on wire stands. Shaol approached and waited with the sacks sitting heavy on his shoulder.
The family enjoyed the marketplace until mid afternoon when Mistress had decided she had seen enough wares, two new dresses had been added to Shaol’s load. The family then returned home and Shaol followed behind.
The house was busy with the others furiously rearranging the house for Master’s return. One of the others took the Mistress’s new dresses and Shaol took the flour through to the kitchen where Faun was sitting next to a large metal container that sat on the stove, inside was the special roast with the coals that cooked it, slow and soft. Shaol licked his lips and enjoyed the smell. Faun slowly turned a handle that came from inside the container.
“Close the door,” barked Faun, “the whole house is going to smell of cat.”
Shaol kicked the door shut behind him. Shaol savoured the smell of the roasting animal hoping there would be some left over for him when the feast was done.
“Where do you want the flour?”
“Over there,” Faun pointed at a place behind the backdoor and then muttered to himself, “what am I going to do with all that?”
Shaol stood tall and stretched his back.
“Can I turn the cat?” asked Shaol, “I’m no good at cleaning.”
Faun laughed and smiled. The last time Shaol had been given a rag and told to polish a table he accidentally cracked one of legs after pressing to hard on the precious wood and then a vase had toppled off it and smashed across the floor. Luckily, Mistress had never like the table and used the incident to get one she thought was better, Pysuun only received a few lashes.
“Take it,” said Faun letting go of the handle, “it will give me time to do something with the flour?”
Shaol took the handle and started to turn it. Pysuun flew into the kitchen from the main house.
“You have everything you need?” asked Pysuun in a hurry.
“Yea, but do you know what they want with this?”
Pysuun shrugged and grabbed some milk from the cupboard.
“I don’t know. Bread?”
Faun shrugged and shook his head.
“I’ll get water,” sighed Pysuun and then noticed Shaol turning the cat, “you found something to do. Good. Don’t move.”
Pysuun flew out the kitchen door and was gone.
The day passed and the servants came and changed into the fine clothes made of fabric that was only worn when the other Masters came to visit. Shaol was never given a set and he was glad, the clothes looked tighter than the shirts he was normally forced to wear.
The evening passed as Shaol sat in the kitchen. Boots clattered against the floor outside the kitchen. When another opened the kitchen door to speak with Faun, Shaol could hear the solemn chatter of the Masters from the small room at the front of the house. There seemed to be more tonight than had come to the house before.
Faun had vanished to help Pysuun serve the Masters, but after a time he returned to the kitchen and removed the lid of container revealing the large, brown mountain cat inside. Shaol helped him move the large beast to a serving platter, covered with leaves and fruits, the juices of the animal immediately started to gather on the plate. Shaol looked at the meal sadly, there were so many Masters tonight there would not be any left for Unders, but hopefully Faun would make a soup from the bones.
“Take the coals out the back,” said Faun as Pysuun entered, “let them burn out in the yard.”
Shaol collected the lower half of the container, now a mix of black coals and animal fat as Faun and Pysuun carried the meal from the kitchen.
The dark yard outside the kitchen was cool and fresh from the night air. Shaol could hear the Masters in levels high above him, their voices carried out the open windows and into the small space. Shaol let the empty words pass through his mind without any attempt to understand them, whatever it was the Masters talked of did not interest him.
Shaol lent against the wall and waited for the container to stop smoking, there was no need for him to be in the house and he did not want to return to the cellar. He looked at the alley that led to the lit street. Faun watched Shaol from the window, for a moment, then he disappeared from the window without a word leaving Shaol in the yard. He was not needed here.
The night passed and slowly the chatter from the high windows died and after a while he heard the Masters leave through the front door, one by one. The windows were closed and the lanterns turned down. Pysuun, finally, came to collect Shaol from the yard.
“Get the coals,” said Pysuun with a tired look on his face.
“Are there any bones left?” asked Shaol as he carried the coals back into the kitchen.
“Faun,” said Pysuun with a sigh, “bones?”
Faun looked at Shaol.
“Yea,” said Faun, “I’ll make a soup.”
“Get this place cleaned up,” said Pysuun, “you can have two bottles of the milk, no more. I’m going to bed.”
Pysuun took a red key from his belt and handed it to Faun.
“Lock the cellar door when you come down,” said Pysuun.
Pysuun closed the backdoor and locked it and did the same to the kitchen door.
“Don’
t wake anyone when you do,” said Pysuun and turned to Shaol, “stay on blanket til dawn.”
“Stack the pots, clean the plates and bowls, I’ll do the soup,” said Faun, “you can do the rest in the morning.”
Shaol nodded with a smile. Faun started to scrap the large bones of the mountain cat into a large pot on the stove and poured in the two clay pots of milk. He then removed a bunch of green leaves hidden in the back of the large cupboard.
“Our secret, right?” said Faun flatly.
Shaol nodded as Faun cut pieces of the leaves into the soup and then lit the coals under the pot. Faun then started to help Shaol straighten the kitchen. Knives, boards, spoons and all manner of utensils had been thrown around the room during the preparation of the feast, flour coated most the benches and Shaol did his best to get the stubborn powder into the waste pale. Faun worked quietly next to him.
Faun was like Shaol, he had been an Under for so long he had forgotten his home. Shaol had never asked, but he knew. Faun did not talk like the others, he said what needed to be said and nothing more. Whenever the house was quite and the two were next to each other it felt like Shaol was back in the barracks with the ones he understood.
The dishes were cleaned, the pots had been stacked ready for Shaol to wash in the morning and the kitchen benches were ordered and wiped, the two waited and watched the milky soup to start to steam and bubble.
After a time, Faun declared it was ready and poured two large bowls of broth. It had all the tastes Shaol loved, the gamey taste of meat, the earthy flavour of the milk and the leaves gave a hint of the wind that whipped across the watery surface of his home.
Shaol stopped himself for a moment and then had another spoonful of soup.
Shaol wanted nothing more but to be out of this stone cage that was always hot and stuffy. The winds of the lake were fresh and cool and carried a smell that could not exist in this place. His toes were free to sink into the rough grit of the mud instead of being bound in metal and leather. It was were he belonged, he was not one who could clean tables or wash pots. This was not his world. This was not his home. He wanted to be in water with Friend.
The knife should have come for him.
But it hadn’t.
And now he was trapped between the world he knew and a world he was ready for.
Faun looked at him from behind his bowl. Shaol met the gaze as he ate the last of his soup. There was a moment, Shaol knew he should not ask, but he did.
“How long have you been here, Faun?” asked Shaol.
“You’ve spent too much time outside today,” said Faun quietly, “get to bed, I’ll clean this up.”
Shaol nodded at the one he understood and placed the bowl on the bench and headed down the stairs to cellar. He removed his shirt and boots and lay on top of his blanket.
That night floated in the golden waters of his home.