Heavy rain drummed against the compound's roof. Niklas sat alone at the kitchen table, his arms crossed over the back of one of the few undamaged chairs.
His head continued to throb, but he didn’t pay it any mind. After consistent aching, he learned how to bar the migraine from focus. He pushed it into the background, dismissing it without thinking about it, like the patterning rain.
One of the three bedroom doors opened, and Ivar jumped as his lamp illuminated Niklas in the dark room.
“That’s not creepy at all,” Ivar muttered as he composed himself.
Niklas stared back into empty space without response.
“Do you always sit in the dark by yourself?” Ivar asked.
“Couldn’t sleep,” Niklas muttered.
“You’ve been up all night?”
“Is it morning already? I guess so.”
Ivar hesitated. “Are you okay?”
Niklas nodded slowly.
Ivar breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness, talking about feelings and stuff is the last thing I want to do.”
The door next to Ivar’s opened, and Lill walked out. She yawned heavily, stretching her arms over her head before she saw the two men. “Oh?” she said in surprise. “I don’t suppose you two are up to make breakfast for me, are you?”
Niklas instinctually sat up. “As you command.” He stood and headed over to the dishes.
“Niklas,” Lill interrupted decidedly. “I was joking.”
He stopped. “So you don’t want me to make something?”
“Do you even know how to cook?”
Niklas thought about it. He had worked shifts in the cafeteria with his detachment by assignment, but he rarely cooked for fewer than 500 people at a time, and the food he made was basic and plain—less satisfactory than the food the Sommerfeldts were used to. “Probably not,” he answered.
“I thought as much,” Lill said. “Besides, I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, knowing you’ll do anything I ask.”
“Yeah,” Ivar cut in, “why don’t you jump up to do my work for me?”
Because you’re not a Mother and are perfectly capable of doing your own work. Niklas thought. “I’ll do it if you pay me 2000 cesh.”
Ivar and Lill looked at each other, and a subtle nod passed between them.
Lill spoke up. “Niklas, about that, what happened yesterday with the investigator? Are you in trouble?”
“No,” Niklas shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“What happened?” Lill asked.
Niklas let out a sigh. “I hosted a fight pit in the lumber yard. Somehow, Wilbur Teaman found out and reported me. I had to pay Officer Yelsing and the yard manager my winnings.
Both siblings looked at Niklas in pointed shock.
“You what?” Lill demanded as she took a seat beside Niklas.
“That’s incredible!” Ivar laughed, joining them at the table. “Did you fight?”
Niklas nodded and held up his thrashed hands. In the dim light, he saw the swelling was worse than the day before and the scabs darker and dry.
“You are a fighter!” Ivar grinned.
Niklas blushed slightly and shrugged. “You don’t survive in Pit forest without knowing how to care for yourself.”
“Niklas!” Lill sounded appalled. “That’s a right nasty thing to do. People probably got hurt. Gambling destroys families, and it’s illegal!!”
Niklas looked at Lill with guilty eyes. Mother May seemed to share the same opinion, and a Mother’s words were law. Niklas was getting tired of the lie about the demons in Pit. The more he supported it, the weaker it felt. He wanted to tell them the truth that the Sharderin clan still existed in self-exile and were preparing for the great war. The Sommerfeldts were Sharderins and deserved to know. They looked at him like some unanswerable question; if he could explain, they might understand him better. Niklas imagined the Sommerfeldts on the wrong end of Edgar’s blade and felt sick. If they knew the truth about the clan and it spread, or if Sharderin intelligence caught the scent of him exposing clan secrets in any way, it would only be a matter of time before Sharderin reapers silenced them.
“The only thing wrong with that is getting caught,” Ivar disagreed.
Lill shot Ivar a scowl. “You know there’s nothing honest about such things.”
Ivar yawned. “If he earned money by fighting fair and square, how is that dishonest?”
Niklas sat up a little straighter and nodded at Ivar. “I was just trying to help.”
Lill shook her head to both men. “How, under Kel, is a gambling pit supposed to help anyone?”
“Well,” Niklas started, “I just wanted to weed out the weak and see the yard flourish. It’s not like I forced anyone to fight...” He remembered Tim, Stephan, and Zach trying to run. “Well, I didn’t force anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
Lill’s gray face flushed even paler. “What?”
“You are a total thug!” Ivar’s eyes glistened with excitement. “A proper gangster! It’s great that a Sharderin will finally get the respect he deserves.”
Lill huffed in frustration. “Niklas, do you want to be a man whose only respect comes from fear and brute force?”
Niklas thought of Edgar for a moment. Edgar had a crew of compatriots with whom he bent the rules and earned reverence from his colleagues. Everyone who knew Edgar personally gave him the respect he deserved.
“That’s exactly what I want to be known for,” Niklas said.
Lill gasped, and Ivar fell silent.
Niklas furrowed his brow. “That’s what we sons of Stigki are supposed to be. Destroyers and killers; that’s what I was born and trained for. What else would I want?”
“What about love?” Lill asked.
“About what?” Niklas asked, feeling slightly attacked.
“Love?”
“You mean...really enjoying things?” Niklas asked.
“Niklas… you know what love is, right?” Lill asked in a worried voice.
“Of course. It’s the next step after liking something.”
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“Right… but also kindness, selflessness, and care.”
“Why should I care about those things?” Niklas asked, now more frustrated at his confusion than anything else. Lill was saying those things as if he should know better.
“Niklas… do you care about anyone?”
“Of course,” Niklas said. “I’m grateful to you for helping me. In fact, I was planning on paying you back with a generous portion of my winnings.”
Lill shook her head. “Do not make our friendship about money. That is not why I pulled you out of that river.”
“Then why did you pull me out of that river? You had no reason to do so.”
“Niklas!” Lill’s words grew passionate. “I pulled you out of the river because it was the right thing to do. I cared about the half-drowned body because I think everyone deserves love to some degree.”
Niklas stopped. “I see…you’re a Mother, and you’re a daughter of Gyva. Your methods and thoughts are higher than mine. You understand greater things than I do. I apologize for provoking you.” Niklas bowed his head.
Thwaack!
Lill produced a thick wooden spoon seemingly out of nowhere and beamed Niklas’ downturned exposed head.
“Enough of that shit!” she snapped. “You have a pretty twisted view of the world, and it’s wrong. Stop treating me like a holy object.”
Niklas fell back, rubbing his smarting head. His thick, twisted ponytail had absorbed most of the blow, but Lill had struck with no reserve.
“Now think hard!” she continued. “Are you seriously going to tell me there's no one you love in your life? Is there no one who goes out of their way to make you happy? Is there no one you think the world of?”
Niklas looked back at Lill wide-eyed again. There was some form of fierceness to a determined mother that even a berserker would never capture.
“Is there?” she demanded again, threateningly jabbing the spoon at him.
Niklas thought of Edgar again, only this time he thought of how happy he was to see his brother. Niklas was never on edge or scared around Edgar. All Niklas ever wanted in life was to make Edgar proud, and he knew he could always count on Edgar to be there for him.
“My brother,” Niklas said. “I would die for him.”
“You have a brother?” Ivar asked.
“That’s a start,” Lill cut in. “But who would you live for, Mr. Loga?”
That was a question Niklas had never considered before. “I...I don’t know,” he muttered.
“Well, you had better find out,” Lill insisted.
Niklas nodded.
“I want you to promise me that you’ll live honestly from now on. You may not care about the consequences, but we do.”
Even Ivar nodded slowly. “She’s right...as usual. We would hate it if anything happened to you.”
Niklas looked at the two of them and suddenly realized he would do anything for them, much like he would for Edgar. He nodded and ignored the new lump in his throat.
He needed to return to Edgar, but he didn’t need to get back now. He now knew there was no honest way to get 2000 cesh in a week. But there would be other esthetic operators outside of Soutfel. Operators who no doubt would do the procedure for much cheaper than the angry doctor he assaulted.
“I promise,” he finally nodded. “I’ll earn my way properly.”
Lill’s fierce stare softened into a smile of approval.
“It wasn’t all for selfish reasons,” Niklas continued. “I needed the money but also wanted to help Robin.”
“And you have,” Lill said. “That man thinks the word of you.”
“So- does- his- sister!” Ivar weaved the words through a fit of coughs.
Niklas nodded. “I also did it because the Relrin workers were reserved and restless. It was clear they kept valor bottled inside. I just wanted to help them let it out.”
“I’m not sure valor means what you think it means,” Lill said.
“Really?” Niklas said in surprise. “Valor, as in…” He thought about it momentarily. “...faith and violence?”
Ivar snorted. “That doesn’t make any sense. Not even to me. Those words really don’t go together.”
Niklas was taken aback. How could they not understand valor? “Faith, favor, honor, fire, and...ferocity?”
Ivar shook his head. “I think it means bravery.”
Niklas frowned. “Bravery hardly covers its full meaning. Haven't you guys read Gyva’s Vers?”
“I have,” Frode said from the doorway. “Though it has been a long time.”
The three of them looked at the old man who had been listening to the conversation unobserved.
“Do you have a copy?” Niklas asked.
Ivar and Lill both shook their heads. “We don’t follow Gyva. We practice the teachings of Kel.”
Niklas looked from one to the other, then cried out. He had heard the mention of Kel several times, but it didn’t occur to him until now that Kel was the man-god of the Freven.
“You’ve abandoned the faith?” Niklas cried in a sinking sense of concern for the wellbeing of his friends.
“Things are different now,” Frode said. “Don’t go condemning my children. Gyva worship has fallen out of favor.”
Niklas could feel the valor bubble up inside of him. “And you succumbed?”
“My children were raised on Kel worship.” Frode walked into the room, cane in hand. “That is my doing. I converted to Kelarianism in Chimgar.”
“You willingly worship a man-god?” Niklas looked from one Sommerfeldt to the next, trust, gratitude, and respect overshadowed by a tearing sense of betrayal. “You all need to repent now. Renounce Kell so Stigki won’t take you to the pit.”
“Niklas,” Frode sighed. I converted because I believe Kellarianism to be true. As for this valor you’re talking about, I don’t know what it is. I’ve read Gyva’s Vers several times in my life before I converted.”
“How can you say that?” Niklas asked, appalled. “Valor is the primary doctrine of Stigki.”
Frode thought for a moment. “I’ll show you.” He disappeared into the room he shared with Ivar.
After a few silent moments, Frode returned with a small, dusty booklet. Gyva’s Verse was a small volume, but it contained all the scripture the Sharderins had.
“You kept it?” Lill cried.
Frode nodded. “Even if it’s not my faith, it’s part of my history.”
Niklas stood as the holy book entered the room.
“I’m fairly sure it doesn’t speak of valor in the way you’ve defined it.” Frode started.
Niklas pulled the Gyva’s Vers from Frode’s hands. “I’ve read this book over twenty times. I’ve studied it throughout my whole life. I can show you what valor means.”
“Niklas–”
Niklas flipped through the Sharderic pages excitedly. “You’ll see, Gyva created the world. Stigki destroys it. Gyva makes it new again. Wars, fires, and death come from Stigki. Life, growth, and birth come from Gyva. All men are sons of Stigki. All Mothers- I mean, Women- are daughters of Gyva.
Niklas opened to a passage and froze.
What was supposed to read, And His valor given to sons who follow his path prepares them for the halls read Through posts and support, lend them unto their own.
Niklas checked the passage. It was the right one.
“What’s wrong with your copy?” Niklas frowned and flipped to a new passage. The book was familiar but alien. Most of the scriptures were the same, but many of them were wrong.
“What is this?” Niklas demanded. “Who’s changed your book?”
“Niklas,” Frode said slowly. “Stgki is the god of words and poetry.”
“You’re wrong.” Niklas insisted. “I know my faith. What’s wrong with your copy?”
“My copy was my father's. It’s over eighty years old.”
“Well, the ones printed in Pit–” Niklas caught himself. He didn’t want to reveal more about Pit than he had to.
Another thought occurred to Niklas. Less than twenty years had passed since the Pit Sharderins evacuated into Pit Forest. Regarding authenticity, he should now be holding the genuine article.
“No,” he denied. “There’s some factor I don’t see. Something’s wrong with your book. This must be a publication from an apostate sect.
“Why don’t you hold onto that book,” Frode said. “I don’t know what you have been reading. But I know you don’t have a copy now.”
Niklas looked at the book with new concern. “Thank you,” he said, but he was still unsure of what to think. He would investigate and figure out how Frode’s book was wrong.
Niklas tucked the book into a pocket and nodded his thanks to Frode again.
Outside, the rainfall subsided, and whatever light could penetrate, the clouds began to filter through the windows.
The boys' room opened, and little Trygve looked at the small gathering. The five-year-old no longer hid from Niklas whenever he was in the same room.
“Oh, daft.” Lill cursed as she saw her son. “I had forgotten about breakfast.” She got up and got to work.
Someone ponded on the door, and Ivar rolled his eyes as he went to answer it.
Gyva, Niklas silently prayed as he tried to process the meaning of what he had just learned. I am not shaken, but I need to know what is true.
“Niklas,” Ivar said. “It’s for you.”
Niklas looked at the door in surprise. He recognized the investigator’s uniform but didn’t recognize the man.
“Niklas Loga?” The officer said from the doorway. He had freshly cut dark hair and a clean-shaven face. His uniform was much neater and orderly than Officer Yelsings's.
Niklas scrambled to his feet. “Yes?” he asked.
“I have a few questions for you.”
All of the Sommerfeldts who were awake looked at the officer with wide eyes.
Niklas got up and stepped outside, closing the door behind him. “Is there a problem?” he asked.
“My name is Inspector Graham. Do you know Timothy Cooper, Zach Smith, or Stephan Jackson?”
Niklas cursed inwardly. They must have found the courage to report him to a different officer. Only this time, he had no money to buy another officer off.
“Yes, I used to work with them.”
“Where were you last night?” the officer asked.
“I was here,” Niklas said, now curious about what that had to do with anything.
“Is there anyone who can confirm that?”
“Yeah… what’s the point of this, officer?”
“Inspector,” Graham corrected him. “Are you aware that Timothy, Zach, and Stephan were found murdered in the lumber yard last night?”
Niklas flinched. “What?”
“They were torn to pieces. We thought an animal might have done it, but one was put to the saw. Do you know any animals that can run a table saw, Mr. Loga?”
“What? Of course not.” Niklas said.
“Neither do I,” Inspector Graham said. “So I’ve been asking around. It seems that you and they have a bad history.”
“Wait, am I a suspect?” Niklas asked in disbelief.
Inspector Graham frowned. “Not yet. We don’t have enough to make a case, but I’ll be watching you, Mr. Loga.”
“That’s fine by me,” Niklas said. “You don’t think anyone else in the yard is in danger, do you?”
Inspector Graham studied Niklas’ face closely, apparently unsatisfied with what he saw. “Have a good day, Mr. Loga.” He left the compound.
Niklas stared after him with a barrage of thoughts peppering him.
Murder, love, false scripture. It seemed the longer he stayed here, the more complicated things got.