"Yes, Wynda. This child will be become a woman. She will live longer than I do, that I can promise you."
" I don't know how you can be so sure of this, druid, but those words are pleasing."
"I had a vision."
Wynda's face wrinkled, her head shook from side to side as if she were trying to discourage a swarm of midges. "I am done with these visions, druid. I am finished. I will have no more. I am alone, my husband chooses to leave me on his trading excursions and I must find ways to keep myself, and now this babe, alive and fed. I do not have time to take dangerous walks up mountains anymore. I weave. Nothing else, just weave. If the goddess is kind enough to leave food on my table in trade for my visions then I will follow them, but she does not. I will leave the visions to you from now on. I will have no more in my home."
Ogilhinn smiled. The goddess told him that Wynda would have no more visions; this test today was the last. He nodded in agreement to Wynda's statement. She felt a great weight lift from her heart and her shoulders relaxed.
"I am rested now, we must get down this mountain. I want to spend tonight in my bed," said Wynda.
Ogilhinn squatted next to her, grasped under her arms and started to help her stand. A pony's snicker pulled their gaze to the trail just as Prys arrived.
"Prys? Are my eyes really seeing you?" Wynda quickly wormed her way up the tree as the druid gave her a lift. "When did you come? Have you been to the fort? I did not expect you so soon. We have a girl child!"
Prys slipped off the pony, touched the druid's shoulder in greeting and wrapped his arms around Wynda supporting her, hugging both her and the newborn child in her arms.
"Yes, I have been to the fort. It was Gavina who told me you were here. I am home early, yes. I will tell you why later. Now, I will put you on the pony and I will take you home."
Wynda dug her face into the hollow of his neck and cried. She was exhausted from the climb, giving birth and was very happy to see Prys. All this led to tears she could not stop.
Ogilhinn brought the pony near and said, "If we get down before the evening meal is finished, I will have Beathan come to your home for the blessing tonight. We need to get started and get to him before he drinks himself into sleep."
Ogilhinn and Prys walked on either side of the pony, making sure Wynda and the mewling babe were secure on the trail to the fort.
* * *
With Wynda settled in her bed feeding the babe and falling asleep herself, both Prys and Ogilhinn crossed the courtyard, past the fort's well, to their chieftain Beathan's home. The loud voices of his warriors and farmers who came to his home to eat in celebration tonight, the night of the races, carried across the yard over the animal noises usually present.
Prys noticed both Finlay and Beathan's oldest son, Kenrick were there. They both had grown to be strong young men. Kenrick would be the next chieftain, after his father, if approved by the clan. Prys knew Beathan was teaching him to be a leader and from the words of the warriors, Kenrick was doing well. He nodded his greetings to both, knowing his words would not be heard over the din in the overcrowded room. Ogilhinn leaned over Beathan's shoulder and shouted his words to be heard. Prys was not close and did not hear what was said, but nodded his greetings to Beathan when he looked at him in response to something Ogilhinn said. Ogilhinn was telling Beathan of the birth, the blessing ceremony and the need for him to be in attendance.
"Alright, druid, alright! I will, I said, as soon as I have one more mug of mead. Here," Beathan waved his arm over the food still on the table, "Gavina and the good women of this clan have prepared a feast for us tonight. Eat and take food to Wynda. Tell her I will come."
Ogilhinn gathered several large slices of pork and root vegetables in a bowl. He stopped as he passed Gavina, "I will make sure she eats some tonight and will bring the bowl back on the morrow. Do you have an extra mug for mead? She will do well, with a sip or two." Gavina dipped a mug into the bucket and handed it, dripping, to Ogilhinn.
"Tell her I will see her in the morn and make sure she is well and fed." Gavina tilted her head in Prys' direction. "Even with him home she will want a woman's touch. Tell her I give my good hopes to her for the babe's health."
"That is kind of you, Gavina. I will tell her." Ogilhinn pulled the wooden door open, letting in the night's fresh air, and walked out.
Prys found a place at the table and told great stories about what he had seen and people he had talked to and traded with, while he ate and drank mead.
Beathan stood, "It is time. I must go but you may stay and drink. The druid says I must see Wynda. She had a babe today and the druid wants to bless it." Everyone cheered at the news and raised their mugs several times in toasts for Beathan and Prys for the new clan member.
Prys took a torch from the wall to light their way. Outside, next to the well, Prys took hold of Beathan's arm.
Stopping, Beathan turned to him. "What? Is there more you want to tell me about your trip? I could feel that there were words you did not want to share with everyone in the room. What is it?"
Prys took the nugget from his pocket and held it under the torch. The flickering light reflected in soft rays from the gold. "I found this on a dead man. I came very close to being taken by the Romans this time. It is very bad there, south, where I grew up. My people, those I grew up with are dying, being slaughtered. I fear for them, I fear for us. I want you to have this. In trade."
Beathan lifted his eyes to Prys' eyes. "Ever the trader aren't you."
"Yes, I am. I do not apologize for that. I need reassurance from you that you will watch over Wynda and the babe if I do not come home after one of my trips."
Beathan grasped both shoulders of the man standing in front of him, "Wynda is my sister. The girl-child in your home is my niece. I will take care of them even if you did not have this trinket. Who do you think I am?"
"I know who you are, Beathan. You are my friend and have accepted me as part of your family. I know you would care for my family. But with this trade, my heart will know it, too. I will know it if I am trapped and cannot get home. I need this in my heart."
Lifting one massive hand from his shoulder, Prys placed the golden nugget in Beathan's palm.
"I promise. I will watch over the girl child as if she was my own while you are gone and when the time comes I will find her a very good husband. Is that good enough?" His eyes were still locked on Prys.
"Yes. That is my trade agreement. It is done."
Both men turned and continued the walk to Prys' home to bless the babe, in silence.
* * *
Taking the babe from Wynda's outstretched arms, Ogilhinn began the ceremony when all were present.
Lifting the babe over his head, he said, "I beg Mother Morrigna to be present and bring her protection to this babe." Walking two steps to stand in front of Beathan, he said, "Chieftain Beathan, as the Father of this clan, uncle to this babe, you are promised to protect her with your life, if it needs be. Do you agree?"
Beathan's face reddened, he disliked being reminded two times of his obligation to this child. It was the same obligation he had for all his clan members. He would fight to his death to protect them. He had sworn himself to the gods, when he became chieftain. He answered gruffly, "Yes, I have told the gods I will. And by the Face of Dagda, I will honor my promise." Ogilhinn did not move from his position. "What? What do you want now, priest? I have sworn to die for her, what more do you want?"
"Touch her head to seal the promise, Beathan."
Beathan lifted one hand, reached with fingers scarred by seasons of fighting and training warriors how to kill, and gently laid his palm on the babe's head. Ogilhinn thought he saw a glimmer of a smile as Beathan removed his hand and then he stepped in front of Prys.
"Prys. You came to us from far away. You brought ways of life and stories from your birth land. These will be important in your daughter's life. Let those close to you know your heart so it may always be a part of her life, even i
f you are not here to share it with her yourself."
Prys looked into Ogilhinn's eyes. Did the druid see a vision of him not being here? He suddenly became afraid, the pit of his stomach soured. Only one thing softened this, the trade he had made with Beathan earlier, would give his wife and child a chance at life if he could not. Yes, he would spend more time with Wynda, telling her of his life before marrying her. Prys leaned forward and kissed the babe still held in Ogilhinn's arms, on the forehead.
"She is my daughter, my blood. She will understand my people and my way of life. I will give her that."
Ogilhinn smiled and took three steps back to the bench where Wynda sat. "And you, Wynda, her mother. You are charged with teaching her the ways of the clan. Teach her to love her people and care for them. You will keep her safe from day to day, feeding her before you eat and only sleeping when she sleeps. You will teach her the dangers of life and the pleasures of love, then give her away as a wife when it is time. Do you promise to do this?"
"Druid, as a mother who loves this babe, I promise. She will be the sun of my day, and the moon in my night yet I will let her explore and learn. I will teach her our ways." Wynda leaned her face into the child's, inhaling her sweet breath before kissing her on her tiny, pursed mouth.
Ogilhinn again lifted the babe up and said, "Morrigna and Dagda, hear our words and comply with the promises you have made us. Protect this child as we have promised." After he safely lowered the child and laid her in Wynda's arms, he continued, "I have seen visions about this child. She will find her path when she is an adult. She will marry a man who will help this journey take place. Some of us in this room tonight will be alive to help her on this journey. Some of us will be helping from the other side of the river. My task now, is to make you understand that this child will not only be important to the family, but she will also strengthen the clan."
Beathan asked, "What do you mean, strengthen the clan?"
Ogilhinn said, "I do not know more. I only see her marriage to one who guides her and the clan to help the clan in some way. The gods tell me they will speak to her and give me only one more thing tonight. They give me her name. We will call her Jahna."
The blessing ceremony ended and Jahna's journey began.
https://podiobooks.com/title/the-fox
The Interview
M. Darusha Wehm
"I was working at this stim joint, a place called Ultra-Sissons. It's not where I'm working now -- I wasn't a bartender then, just a busser. Cleaning up the used cartridges, tidying chairs, occasionally tossing out the odd rowdy. Anyway, I wasn't important or anything, it was just an entry level job. Nothing special.
"This doesn't even have to do with me, though. It was one of the regulars. Guy who called himself Johnny Burling. I don't know if that was his real name or what, but that didn't matter much. We never cared about that kind of thing too much at Ultra. Johnny was a regular -- in most every night. He wasn't one of the troublemakers; you know the kind I mean: those folks who shoot cartridges all night until they can't even piss straight, and you have to slip them a sobriety™ round at closing time just to get them out the door. Every stim place I've seen has those kind of regulars. I guess they pay the bills.
"But that's not Johnny. He was strictly a Red Zinger man -- it was always the same for him. Two Red Zingers over the course of a few hours, and by the time he was starting his second he was off in his own little world. He told me once that he was creating a cooperative narrative, if you can believe it. He'd come in, take his hits of focus™ and creativity™ and zone out. He'd spend the next three hours busy working away in his onboard system - eyes all unfocussed but zipping back and forth, like he's dreaming or something, you know? I guess he got a lot of work done that way.
"He was plenty friendly, though, before the stims really got into him. Liked to talk to the other chatty cathies in the joint, and talked to me plenty, too. Bussing was a pretty boring job, and to tell the truth most of the other regulars were no fun, so talking to Johnny was often as good as it got. He was a funny guy.
"Anyway, the point is that I liked him. He was nice -- harmless, you know? Never did anything mean to anyone. He just didn't deserve what happened."
* * *
"I never knew what it was about Johnny that caught old man Doherty's eye. Doherty was the manager; at least that was what it said on the org chart. Really, he only ever showed up when the new shipments came in from the factory. He always took a box of euphoria™ out of inventory, and told us to make it disappear over the next month. Spillage, breakage, you know. 'Spoils of war,' he called it, whatever that was supposed to mean.
"Most of the time I worked there, we only ever saw Doherty on shipment day. Then, all of a sudden, he started showing up nights, sitting with Johnny. I don't know if Johnny even knew that Doherty worked at the bar, since he'd be buying Doherty rounds every once in a while. I got the evil eye every time I tried to hang around when they were together, so I don't know much about what they would talk about. But I know that one time when I was cleaning up after one of the usual troublemakers at the next table, I heard Johnny telling Doherty about the story he was writing.
"I was under the table, picking up cartridge shards when I noticed that Johnny didn't have his usual Red Zinger on the table. He was shooting something else, something that looked like Sunbeam or Buttercup. It was yellow, whatever it was, and that meant that it was full of sociability™. For a guy like Johnny, that much 's' might as well have been a truth serum.
"But I didn't think much of it. None of my business what the customers want to feel, right? We're all grown ups here and all the stuff does is amplify whatever we naturally have to begin with; at least that's what they say. What do I know?"
* * *
"Of course, I should have known something was wrong. A few weeks later, Johnny didn't come into the bar. No one thought too much of it -- he'd missed a night or two before, it was no big deal. But when he'd stayed away for almost a month, it was pretty clear that something was wrong. I asked around, but no one seemed to know anything about it. Then one night, it's my day off and I'm at one of the liquor bars down in green sector. And who do I see walking by but Johnny Burling. I swear, I almost didn't recognize him; he looked terrible.
"I flagged him down, and offered to buy him a drink. He seemed sort of suspicious, but he took my pint and sat down.
'So, I guess everyone down at the bar has heard about what happened,' he said, sounding miserable. I just shook my head and told him that no one knew anything. As far as we all knew, he just disappeared off the face of the earth.
'But Doherty…' he said, a strange look on his face, like he was scared or something.
'Doherty never said anything to anyone,' I told him. 'He's hardly ever around and no one really talks to him. He's the boss -- you don't just have a chat with the boss.' I smiled at Johnny, wondering what the hell was going on. He would hardly even look at me, and I didn't know what to say. So after we'd sat there for what seemed like forever, I just asked him if he was going to tell me what happened or not.
"And he did."
* * *
"'Remember that narrative I was writing?' he asked, and I nodded. 'Well, it was going pretty well. I was posting chapters to a board I was running and I was getting a lot of hits. I'd opened it up for public access; people were acting out the parts, making up new stuff for the story. It was kind of like a game, you know? I was even starting to make some money from it -- you know, people paying for instant access, licensing the characters and whatnot. The usual thing. Of course what was important was the community, the fans, you know? It was becoming a proper story zone, a real solid group was forming. Taking on a life of its own.' He paused and breathed deep. 'I guess that was the problem.'
"I didn't really know what he was talking about -- I don't read much -- but I smiled and he went on. 'You saw how Mitch Doherty was chatting me up at Ultra-Sissons, right?' I nodded
again, hoping he'd hurry up and and get to it.
'Well, we were mostly talking about The Sunshine Parade -- that was the name of my story -- and he seemed really into it. You know, talking about the process, about creating -- all that. I don't know a lot of other writers in the real world, you know? So it was really nice just to have someone listen, someone who seemed to understand. I thought we were friends, that he was just interested in me, in my story…' He broke off, and I swore I saw him wipe a tear away from his cheek. I didn't say anything, though. It was pretty intense.
"After a while he started talking again. 'I didn't know anything was going on until one day I tried to log into my admin account on the story's board and I couldn't get in. I figured I just forgot the password or something, you know, but it was Doherty. He didn't even try to hide it.'
'Hide what?" I asked.
'He'd stolen the board, the story, the whole community.'
'But how?' I asked.
'I still don't really know,' Johnny said, looking miserable. 'From the little I got out of the hosting service I used, he somehow made it look like he owned the rights to the intellectual property of the plot and the name of the boardspace. I don't know if he just bribed them or what, but they kicked me off and that was the end of it.'
"I asked him if he could complain or get some Security to deal with it, but he said no. 'I went the whole way through the server's complaints process and when I asked the Security at my employer, they just laughed. It doesn't have anything to do with my work, so they didn't give a shit. There was nothing I could do.'
"I didn't know what to say. I'd never liked Doherty before, but I had no idea that he could do something like that. That it was even possible. That if it were possible that anyone would do it. It made me sick. But that was only the beginning."
* * *