Chapter 5
The man sitting in the field was reasonably well dressed for a vagabond. It was almost as if the lighting and proximity influenced whether you saw a pheasant or someone who had just come a great distance. He had occupied this space for about a month. He could see the forest in one direction. The city wall in the other direction. He was just beyond the best archer’s range. The entirety of his belongings were with him. A tent, a chest with anything a human might want, and a stool. He rarely sat on the stool. A wooden bowl was on the stool, and he would sit on the ground and eat from his bowl. He ate charity, which came from the earth or the city. Most of his day was spent reading from his book, reading the terrain, or meditating.
A month without being harassed was his personal best. The eight people who gathered around his campsite as he ate his morning breakfast were clearly meaning harm. If their intent was to just run him off, which was the usual business, they wouldn’t have surrounded him- they would have left avenue for escape. He stood, avoiding eye contact, but clearly aware of all of them. The earth filled his eyes, not a patch of blue to be found. He correctly gauged who was the leader and faced him. The man in charge was likely thirty. He, like the others, wore the tells of a street gang. Street gangs were not outlawed, but used as substitute militia in some cities.
“Ho, stranger,” the leader said. “I am Got.”
“Got,” the man said. “I am Bluester Airebrook”
“You made that up,” Got said.
“It is the name I accepted,” Bluester said.
“Some say you’re a knight. You have old tech,” Got said.
“Some say,” Bluester said.
“Do I smell bacon?” Got said, coming a little closer. “I thought you knights couldn’t eat meat? Religious thing with you?”
As Got stepped closer, someone from behind pitched a rock, hitting Bluester in the back. Bluester accepted the insult without comment.
“It is not a religious thing. I will not kill flesh to eat, but as a practicing Knight, I must accept with gratitude whatever is placed in my bowl,” Bluester said.
“What if I shit in your bowl?” Got said.
“I would kill you,” Bluester said.
Got stepped on a beetle and put it in the bowl. “Eat that.”
The beetle was badly injured, moving. In bug terms, death was imminent. Bluester picked it up, cupped it in his hands, brought it to his mouth, and gently blew. He opened his hands to reveal the beetle restored. It shed wings and flew away.
“I am confused,” Got said. “Are you a knight or a wizard?”
“Only the Seventh book makes a distinction,” Bluester said.
“I am going to be taking your tech,” Got said.
“It will not work for you,” Bluester said.
Bluester caught the next rock pitched. He dropped it. “Throw another, and I will sleep you.” He faced Got, who was a now little closer. “Son, I am concerned by your proximity. If you wish to travel, there are roads lined with fruit bearing trees. I am off the path.”
“Off the path. Is that code? Are you like a dark night?” Got said.
“I am neither dark nor light,” Bluester said.
“Ahh, you’re one of the rare ones? A gray?” Got said.
“A gay gray? Let’s fuck him,” came from one of the lackeys.
“There is only so much darkness one might bring, only so much light- at the apex of either, you are falling or rising,” Bluester said. “I walk in twilight, minimizing the curve.”
“Interesting. You have philosophy,” Got said.
“Everyone has a philosophy. Even now, you act in accordance to a way. A way that is likely to lead you directly to harm,” Bluester said.
“My understanding of it is, if I kill you, I can operate your tech,” Got said.
“That is a myth. You’re welcome to explore this. Hypothetically, assuming that position is accurate, you brought help- how will you know who kills me?” Bluester asked.
Bluester caught the next rock that was thrown, redirecting, adding momentum, knocking Got out. A wave of his hand and the person who threw the stone collapsed. He engaged one other, dropping him. The others fled. Bluester returned to his meal.
City guard arrived next. Bluester stood, and bowed his head in reverence.
“It is time you moved on, friend,” The Captain said.
“As you wish,” Bluester agreed.
A guard that was assigned to collect the bodies hesitated. “He’s alive.”
“I only schooled them,” Bluester said. His tent collapsed and folded itself. He opened the chest and placed the item inside. He rolled up his sleeping bag and placed it in the chest. He wiped his bowl clean with his shirt and placed it in the chest. He closed the chest and placed the stool on top of it. The legs of the stool retracted, and the seat locked into place upon the chest.
The Captain came off his horse to get a closer look.
“How much can you fit in there?” someone asked.
“Enough,” Bluester said. Fully packed in no time, he turned back to the Captain. “I apologize for any trouble I have brought you.”
“Your kind do bring trouble,” the Captain agreed. “Never seen a knight that didn’t have legions of trouble following.”
“My fighting days are over,” Bluester said.
“I see,” the captain said.
“This was not a fight. They are children seeking education,” Bluester said.
“You still carry the Torch,” the Captain said, pointing to the object hanging from his belt.
“It is my companion till death,” Bluester said.
“So it still works,” the Captain said. “Show me.”
“No,” Bluester said.
Bluester started walking towards the forest. The Captain called out that he had left his chest. Bluester whistled. The chest rose into the air and followed at a slow, but steady pace. The guards lingered, waiting to verify he was truly departing. He was disappeared at the edge of the forest. It wasn’t that he disappeared into the forest, but that he was suddenly gone. No one saw it happen, he was just gone. They quickly forget about and went about reviving the unconscious.
निनमित
Eleanor, Robert’s sister, was not happy that the guest was staying past a month and without apparent interest of moving into the village proper. She was further angered by the fact she was pregnant.
“Who is the father?” Eleanor demanded.
Before Kea could answer, Bob asked: “Who do you think?”
“You think by fathering a child with her, you’re going to gift this property?” Eleanor asked.
“The Council will decide who acquires this property,” Bob said. “Regardless, you do know you will not be getting it.”
“I am chief elder in the outer circle and I determine the outer…”
“There is no circle of elders here. There is you and me…”
“Oh, fuck your semantics. I own the circle,” Eleanor said.
“You hold the circle,” Bob corrected.
Eleanor turned to Kea. “If it is female, I will see a mark on her as clear as your daughter holds,” Eleanor said. She departed without further ado.
Bob sighed and went back to his work in the garden. Kea came outside to him.
“Why did you lie to her?” Kea asked.
“She doesn’t need to know your business,” Bob said.
Kea sat on a stone by the garden. Tay was holding her hands out to butterflies near the gazebo that was near a pond.
“Why are you so kind to us?” Kea asked.
He paused in his work. He was on his knees, his hands dirty, a basket with tools and collected fruit. He sat back on his legs. “I am grateful for your presence.”
“Are you so desperate for company you would claim a child that is not yours?” Kea asked.
“I do not own the air I breathe, but I graciously take in and breathe out,” Bob said. “Likewise, I do not own the sun, or the rain, or you. I accept you as you are and release as you will be, no expectations.”
“No one is this loving,” Kea said.
“Even after all this time the sun never says to the earth, 'You owe me.' Look what happens with a love like that. It lights the whole sky,” Bob said.
“The Given?” Kea asked.
“Specifically, Haffiz,” Bob said.
Kea dwelled on it. She had to look away from his stare. She had to wipe her cheeks of tears. She got up and left the rock. Bob returned to his gardening. That night, Kea moved into his bedroom. He did not turn her away.
निनमित
“Papa?”
Lester didn’t look up from his workbench, where he was setting a jewel into a ring. The magnifying glass was supported by a mechanical arm. It projected a light that helped illuminate his work.
“Papa?” Fersia asked again.
Fersia was a human cat hybrid and depending on how you came at her she was either extraordinarily cat like, or human like, or both in such a way that people were often confused in their reporting of her in the same way most witnesses to a car accident are confused about the details and become quarrelsome about how anyone could have failed to see something right before their eyes. Her dress and boots were furry, clearly not her- but definitely her style. The clothing conformed to her as if it were a second skin, and her ‘fur’ from her head was long enough it blended into the shaggy fur of her dress. Her arms and legs were bare. Her hands were gloved in matching fur. Her fur was a blending of pastels, heavy on purple and pink. It was invitingly shaggy and people just wanted to rub on her to see if it were real or articles of clothing. Some wanted to rub her the wrong way, hands going to private placed to determine if it was all cat. Depending on who and where, one either got slapped, scratched, or bit. Sometimes all of it. She was the answer to the old question, ‘does it hurt to rub a cat the wrong way.’
Lester was an elderly person of Asian descent, white hair, white beard and mustache, reasonably trimmed, and dressed casually in jeans, and a coat with elbow patches. He didn’t quite fit in with the locals based on dressed, but he was accepted. The City of New Tamaria was likely the most diverse group of people, with the most diversity in appearance. His cane was in reach of the table.
“Call me ‘Papa’ again, and I swear there will be a human sized cat-bag sinking in the river,” Lester said.
“You have a customer,” Fersia said.
“Tell whoever it is I am busy,” Lester said.
“I can pay. Gold.”
Lester relinquished his work with a heavy sigh and pivoted his chair about to look at the man. He appeared to be in his twenties. He was dressed well, better than average, trousers, clean shirt that hung freely above his britches, and a jacket. His hair was wild and probably would go into shock if it were combed. The shirt was a Barong, stiff in collar, and was either made from rice or coconut pulp. It was too thin to weather a winter, suggesting he was from the south. There was evidence of an undershirt. His jacket was likely made of hemp. There was no evidence he was suffering.
“Sorry,” Fersia said. “He pushed through without asking.”
Lester and Fersia had established their crafting tent in a small bazar outside of the largest cities of New Tamaria. They had a small home in the retired folk’s perimeters, and Lester was now a recognized Elder. Lester was well known for his craftsmanship and exuberant prices. His prices kept people away. It was the way he liked it. If people entered his tent at all, they usually saw the pricing of any merchandise and left, or they remained to flirt with Fersia. She was happy to entertain flirting, and a good scratching behind the ears, but a good showing of cat teeth usually ended the mood and people withdrew. She had no lack of attention from their elderly neighbors, who were more than happy to have her company in exchange for a good bowl of rice and fish and a glass of milk. The way she made rounds, Lester was amazed she hadn’t gained weight since coming to this ‘abysmal planet.’
There was a long, thin table between the man and Lester.
“I hear you are antisocial,” the man said. “Do you want gold, or not?”
“Not,” Lester said. “Feel free to leave.”
The man sat a weighty bag down on the table and sat. He picked up Lester mug, tasted it, and spit out, and poured the remaining content out. “I think you should at least hear my proposition before you dismiss me. Bring us both a glass of wine, Puss.”
“We don’t serve alcohol…”
The man took her hand and pushed a gold coin into it. “Go fetch it, then.”
“I am not a dog…”
“Go buy a descent bottle of wine, glasses if you don’t have any. Make sure they’re clean, and take your time about it. But not too much time. Puss.”
Lester nodded. For much of her fur being clothing and all, there was evidence her fur was riled up. She took a moment to acknowledge Lester and then departed to get the wine. As she exited the tent, she flipped the sign around that alerted people to being temporarily out. Most people here respected the sign.
“Asocial,” Lester said.
“What?”
“I am educating you. Asocial are people who would rather avoid company, stay at home, not be bothered. Antisocial, on the other hand, well, you exhibit the traits. You dismiss social protocols, you demand service even after it was clearly communicated that your business is not wanted. You yourself provided a choice, and didn’t abide by your own binary proposition. You treat my associate with disrespect,” Lester said.
“Fuck you, old man,” the man said. “You should be grateful I am bringing you real coin.”
“The society here is at such a level of affluence that your gold here is meaningless,” Lester said. “There is no one in the entire city so desperate they would put up with your shit just for coin. I would wager heavily you already know that or you wouldn’t be in my sphere of influence.”
“You want shit? I’ll shit right here on your table.”
“I bet even the attendant that pays out copper at the public restrooms wouldn’t want your piss and shit,” Lester said.
The man grimaced. “This place is disgusting,” he said. “People literally buy piss and shit.”
“Lots of products are made from waste, and not just fertilizers for gardens and orchards,” Lester said. “Lots of piss pour people here, but happy, well-adjusted, piss pour people here. You’re not that. I will do business with you if it gets you on your way. What’s your name?”
“You don’t need to know,” the man said.
“No name, no service,” Lester said.
“You will either accept my commission, or when your pussy comes back, you can watch me pound it. Never fucked a cat before,” he said.
“Lucy for you, I don’t discriminate against gay people,” Lester said.
“Ha, I think I will fuck her just to spite you,” he said.
“Good luck with that,” Lester said.
“I am telling you, I am going to mess her up,” the man said.
“Have you watched cats mate?” Lester said. “Go ahead. Have fun. I don’t think you have the hide for it.”
“You can call me Ben.”
“I could, but I want a real name,” Lester said.
“Todd,” the man said.
“My price goes up for every lie,” Lester said.
“Do you performs readings, too?” the man asked.
“I don’t need Tarot cards to know you’re going to get fucked,” Lester said.
The man reached for Lester and received a solid punch in the face. The flurry of action was difficult to follow. The man quit his aggression, his head on the table, and jewelry pliers attached to the inner nose.
“Finished?” Lester asked.
“My name is Afansy,” he said.
Lester let go. Afansy withdrew to a respectful distance on his side of the table.
“What’s your Sir name,” Lester asked.
“I don’t have one,” Afansy said. “I was orphaned, grew up in charity house, ran away six and lived off the streets.”
“That explains a lot,” Lester mumbled. “What do you want with me?”
Afansy opened his bag and placed an item on it. A wooden, flat top pyramid, with grooves on the steps descending to base.
“Tell me about this,” Afansy said.
“Hand me a gold piece,” Lester said.
“For information?” Afansy asked.
“For education,” Lester said.
Afansy pulled out a mint and slapped it on the table. Lester examined the mint, recognizing the city of origin and its purpose for raising funds for the guard. He laid it on the top of the pyramid. The coin rested in the flat space, not touching the edges of the square. Lester picked the coin up and then stood it on one of the steps. The groove kept it from falling. Each step down could hold several more mints of the same size than the step above.
“That’s it?” Afansy said.
“It’s a display for coins,” Lester said. “What did you think it was? An alchemy circuit?”
“I stole it off a witch,” Afansy said.
Lester shrugged indifferently.
“You don’t believe me?” Afansy said.
“I believe you stole it,” Lester agreed. “Even if she were a witch, it doesn’t make it what you think it is. Also, you don’t look like a guild member.”
“I am not in the guild,” Afansy said.
“Rejected by thieves?”
“I don’t want to belong to no dues paying club,” Afansy said.
“My esteem for the club just went up,” Lester said.
“What does that mean?” Afansy said.
“It means, I bet you applied and were rejected and you’re the worst kind of liar, the kind that lies to himself,” Lester said.
“Do you always insult your guests?” Afansy said.
“You’re not a guest,” Lester said. “And there is always a dues, kid.”
“You’re a guild member. That’s how you afford this merchandise, and the reason for your inflated prices,” Afansy said.
“It’s not worth anything. They’re just things until someone places a value on it,” Lester said.
“This coin has gold in it. This pedestal has gold weaved into it,” Afansy said.
“You assume it has greater value than it has. You assume it’s magical. You assume all the previous people who you tried to pawn it off on were lying and cheating,” Lester said. “That’s one of the problems with being antisocial. You lack the ability to trust, and you assume your judgment is greater than anyone else’s.”
“I have been in charge of me all my life,” Afansy said. “I know what’s best for me.”
“You’ve survived,” Lester said. “But you’re miserable, and so full of hate and revenge you want to bring everyone down to your level of misery.”
“You’re an ass.”
“I am not the one with the problem,” Lester said.
“This item is magical. I can’t get rid of it. I sell it for a copper or piece of bread, and the next morning it’s in my bag. I give it away, and I wake up with it in my bag again. I bury it and I ride off, and the next morning, it’s in my bag again,” Afansy said. “I bury it in my bag, and the bag and the pedestal and the coin return to me. I can’t get rid of it.”
“And you think I am going to make it leave you alone?” Lester said.
“Melt it down for the gold. I will pay you,” Afansy said. “The pedestal is bulky and weighs me down. The coin, well, it doesn’t fare well with the people I associate with. I have pulled it out of my pocket at unreasonable times. I don’t even keep it in my pocket. I tell people I acquired it through a robbery and I am told to get rid of it and it comes back like a damn cat. Speaking of cats, where is that bitch?”
“Maybe you could return it to the witch,” Lester said.
“If I knew where the bitch was, I would,” Afansy said.
Fersia arrived with the wine. She poured it into two glasses. Lester thanked her. He held the glass under his nose. He decided to let it breathe some. Afansy drank his glass down.
“What the hell did you buy? The cheap stuff?” Afansy asked. The click of pliers made him bring a down a notch. “So, how much for you to properly fence this or destroy it?”
Lester scratched his chin. “I don’t know. How much does it bother you?”
“What?”
“So, these sort of things are costly. You will pay what you think it’s worth, and if it’s even a half ounce less, you’re bound to find this accompanying you again,” Lester said. “Further, if you discover it back and you initiate a new arrangement, you start from scratch. You pay me to keep it, and it comes back to you, you need to return to me and pay me more.”
“You’re fucking kidding me? What kind of racket is this?” Afansy asked.
“Your other option is to settle down, open up a trade kiosk, and make this a display in your business for the world to see,” Lester said.
Afansy sighed and put a bag of coin on the table. “There’s ten gold in here, miscellaneous silver and copper,” Afansy said. “Keep it. And your pussy’s change for the cheap wine. Is that enough?”
“You realize, it’s bad luck mixing different metals in a bag?” Fersia asked.
“Is it enough?” Afansy said.
Lester shrugged. “Only the morrow will tell.”
Afansy got up and departed the tent.
“Asshole,” Lester muttered.
“I don’t like the way he used bitch. It sounded disparaging,” Fersia said.
“Kind of like the way I just said asshole?” Lester asked.
“Yeah,” Fersia agreed. “Why do people hate their assholes? People would die without asses and assholes.”
“There is that,” Lester agreed. “Put these items on the shelf out front, please.”
He returned to his work. Fersia commented on how nice the coin look.
“I wouldn’t get attached to it if I were you,” Lester said. “It doesn’t belong to us. Also, bank this coin, will you?”
“Yes, Papa…”
“God damn it, stop that,” Lester said.
निनमित
Tristan Star was not his birth name. Hell, he didn’t even remember is origin name. He had been Tristan too long. And he was in trouble. He was shackled, surrounded by four very burly, stoic men, who were immune to his flirting eyes and provocative gestures. He was opened to being bi if it allowed him opportunity to escape. They moved at a rate that challenged his ability to shuffle. At some point, they tired of the shuffle and two of them picked him up by the arm and sped him to where he needed to be. The Chamber of Seven. The judges were robed, hoods up. He was set on his feet, in a circle on the floor. One of the judges, the one in the middle who was either the tallest of the judges or standing on an unseen pedestal, pulled backed her hood. He gave her a snarky smile, and blew her kiss.
Tae-Ann, Elf, and royal ambassador of the Infinite Realms, judicial overseer of the City of New Tamaria, revealed no indication that the irreverent gestures bothered her. Her large, dark eyes blinked as if seeing through him. Her skin wasn’t just pale, or porcelain, it was the kind of white that suggested an absence of color- not translucent, though. Her hair was long and jet black and slick as if oiled, pulled tight in to a tail that went tapering down the back of her head and then winding round her neck like the coils of a serpent.
In contrast, Tristan was black. Not an elf. Not too tall, and not too short- he could disappear into a crowd easily enough as he just had one of those body attributes that made it easy to just be about anyone. His face was forgettable in a pleasantly, peculiar way, but likeable and friendly when up close and personal. He was in reasonable shape for a thief, some of it likely related to his youth. He could run if he had to. If it weren’t for the four guards who stood at parade rest looking at him from four corners of his circle he would likely be able to get out of his chains and be on his way.
“Tristan Star,” Tae-Ann said, introducing only herself. “Do I need to read the litany of charges against you?”
“Well, of course, my baby-heart,” Tristan said. “Might as well make this marriage formal.”
“You’ve have demonstrated a complete disregard to any sense of formality,” Tae-Ann said. “I thought perhaps you would prefer more casual.”
“Oh, I can do casual,” Tristan assured her. “You want to come on this side? Just kind of lean over the table and I’ll position your ass. You like it when people watch, don’t you?”
“A great deal of lenience has been shown you,” Tae-Ann said. “You were accepted into the guild ten years ago. You have never paid your dues.” She stopped short of addressing the rumor he killed his master.
“If I wanted to pay taxes, I would have stayed a civilian,” Tristan said.
“It is a privilege to pay taxes…” Tae-Ann said.
“Yeah- you got all of New Tamaria tauten that line. Fucking bat shit crazy ass people here, bragging about who paid the most in taxes. If it weren’t for that damn language tower, we’d probably all be speaking Danish.”
The absence of an emotional response was a little unsettling. “You’re educated. Your attempt to spin humor into your responses does not hide the contempt you hold for our social structure.”
“Fuck your social expectations. The world is wild and free and a person can do as he wishes. Fuck your ties that bind. Fuck your protocols. Fuck all of you,” Tristan said.
“You refuse the offer.” It was a statement.
“Fuck your offer. I can deal with you, or the civilian court system, which offers a variety of options, including jury or judge trials… You seriously don’t want me going through normal channels. I am sure you don’t want me negotiating with the District Attorney in New Tamaria,” Tristan said. He spit on the floor. “You think I don’t know shit. I know all of your identities. Your present and past identities. I know you mother fuckers. You need to start treating me with some deference.”
“The fact that you’re alive isn’t evidence enough for the fact we want to deal with you?” Tae-Ann asked.
The other six withdrew their hoods. The three on the left of Tae-Ann were probably the most notorious crime lords in the Realms. Tristan knew them by reputation. Most people would have been cowed into submission. He smirked, it was the kind of smirk that suggested he had won something, like he alone had divined the ‘secret’ identity of a superhero. The other three revealed, the ones on Tae-Ann’s right, did provoke him enough that his usual tight guard on his face broke. They were prominent official in the city structure. One of them was the DA.
“I fucking knew it! You’re all in cahoots!” Tristan said.
“You think you are well informed, but you know nothing. The Great Solution was handed down to us from before the Original Fall,” Tae-Ann said.
“Oh, fuck your dogmatic, religious, bureaucratic…”
Tae-Ann held up two fingers and Tristan fell silent. His chains flared gold light and faded- script fell away sequentially. He was not injured. He was angry at having been silenced. Tae-Ann waved her hand and a script appeared before her. From Tristan’s perspective, the script should have been backwards, but was readable from both sides and all angles of perspective.
“You are accused of prostitution…”
“Is there any other kind of ‘stitution?’ Just consider me pro-institution” Tristan sang. His voice was rather melodic.
Tae-Ann looked at him seriously, tempted to silence him permanently. “You are a member of the thieves’ guild, not the sex guild. If I apply their rule set, you failed to protect your workers from violence…”
“Yeah, part of the landscape,” Tristan mumbled. “What are you going to do?”
“You perpetrated violence against your workers…”
“It’s called positive punishment, baby-heart. It’s a training technique,” Tristan said.
“You over worked and under paid your workers…”
“Well, you know, it’s hard out here for a pimp…” Tristan sang.
Tae-Ann fell silent. “We’re done here. I am giving you the last choice. Death, or house arrest.”
“You’re joking, right? Like, death or I stay home? How you gonna police that? Like, slap a fucking ankle monitor on me? Magically bind me to the home? Put portals on the exits that bring me back into the house from another angle? Fuck you,” Tristan said. “Fuck all of you.”
“Choose,” Tae-Ann said.
“Fuck you,” Tristan said again. “Feel free to use my cock.”
“Kill him,” Tae-Ann said.
Tristan