“Yes, yes, my dear. I know that, but perhaps this would be a better fate by far for you. Trust me on this. Also, perhaps the Herald would be even so kind as to allow you to visit your parents in the city,” he said pointedly in my direction, before whispering an old complaint under his breath.
He must have noted my consternation at the exchange for he decided to explain further, “You would think I would foist upon you a simple body servant? Of course not, I would be a thoughtless and inconsiderate host if I did that, yes?”
I could only mutely nod, my earlier protestations flying out of the window at the thought of possessing such a delightful creature.
"As my cupbearer, Zariyah, treasure of my heart, possesses a keen ability to detect poisons... and she is also adept at their concoction. Furthermore, she has an iron strength to her, which is indispensable on the perilous road. In her current state, she would be a valuable addition to your... entourage, indeed," he smiled as if he had stumbled upon something rather valuable. "But, there is the spark in her. It is almost poetic that I return a miracle with her magic, like in the tales of old. Fitting. She possesses the Gift of controlling the lesser element of Air, a modest talent, really. I dare say it's not nearly as valuable as the price she paid for it, the sweetness of her voice," he chuckled, emitting a small guffaw.
Zariyah looked at Gelgor, her eyes flashing daggers with unconcealed anger, her fists clenched at her sides. She began to rise, but in the end compelled herself to stay seated. Something told me that Gelgor had shared something too private, laid bare for all to see, a thing that should have been at the discretion of the soul to give. I did not blame her for taking umbrage.
“Yes, and she is local born. She knows this city well. A fitting gift, do you not think, Master Herald?” smiled Gelgor with his mocking gaze and serpent’s smile.
What was I to do? To reject a host’s gift in this culture would be a most grievous insult, more so than even the debacle with Catalina considering the differences between their status.
My mind ran through circles trying to get around the scruples of my common sense of decency. Perhaps this was the time for a less judgmental answer. After all, I could, and most definitely would, release her from her contract once she had rendered unto me certain services. For instance, like guiding me around the city, of course. But then again, who was I to cling to the morals of my own world? There was no one here to judge me, so why not take what was freely given?
“Very well, Master Gelgor, you have me. I must accept this gift most graciously given,” I nodded in his direction.
The fat man’s eyes lit up with a new fire, as if possessed something. A part of me felt the heavy hand of fate’s touch at work here.
“Excellent, most excellent,” he exclaimed, clapping his hands in satisfaction. “I will also gift to you her things, and they are of some value. Oh, and a word of advice, a Master must see to the well-being of those beneath them. Please know that the gift I have presented to you is in the best of conditions. Go now and prepare yourself Zariyah, you must be excited to return to your home city!” He clapped his hands again in command.
At his orders, she rose to her feet, a muted huff of displeasure escaping her lips as she cast a sharp, resentful glance his way. My gaze lingered on her, captivated by the rhythmic sway of her hips and the melodic jingle of her bracelets, as she gracefully made her way towards a curtained partition of the wagon.
It hit me then, what the meaning of Master had for these people. My subconscious finally pieced together all the little clues that had been left for me here and there. A Master, for the purpose of this world, was someone who had slaves, or their close cousins, indentured servants, beneath them. Or at the very least, I surmised that Gelgor’s added inflection meant as such. Had I heard Laes referred to in such a manner? If so, just how many of Laes’ ‘employees’ were nothing more than contracted slaves? No doubt the people of the caravan must have thought my companions my retainers, my chattel. I found myself despising these people even more for trapping me within the little rules and games of their culture.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“Now that gifts have been exchanged, let us talk like men, over tea. Tell me of yourself, and off the lands you hail from. Yours is an interesting tale, of that I am sure. One wonders indeed how one can be blessed with gifts of the Goddess,” he said as began, with surprising adroitness, pouring fresh tea into dainty cups. “I must confess that you, Master Gilgamesh, have made a believer of me. I have, quite literally, seen the light. Heavy were my sins,I feel, now that the shroud of ignorance has been lifted. And many were the years of my life spent in blasphemous words and actions. I hope that my offering goes a small way towards balancing Her scales,” he bemoaned, sighing and reaching for a teapot. It was a sigh that only the weight of wasted years could produce.
The teapot itself was exquisitely shaped in the form of an elegant serpent, its body and handle formed by the creature's entwined coils. The spout, designed as the snake's extended neck, allowed the light amber tea to flow from its open mouth.
“But one, of course, must be careful, for the light can also blind as much as it reveals,” he added a little ruefully, placing the teapot down.
*****
For the better part of an hour, or so it seemed to me, I wove a tapestry of half-truths and fabrications, crafting a tale for Gelgor that was both digestible and credible. I meticulously omitted any elements that might seem too 'fantastical' for the sensibilities of this world's primitive people. Instead, I spun a narrative grounded in the mundane, tales of family and the like. Skillfully, I sidestepped the details of how Avaria had chosen me, and my dark patron remained an unspoken shadow. As casually as possible, I asked the fat man about this world’s tales regarding immortality.
In turn, Gelgor unfurled the tapestry of his own past, regaling me with tales of his youth. The stories revealed a man driven by a deep, unquenchable thirst. His was a fusion of greed and the curiosity of an adventurer. As our dialogue meandered, it became apparent that Gelgor's attachment was not in the material aspect that wealth provided, like jewels, fine things, and so forth. Nor was he particularly interested in the social status that wealth brought. Rather, he looked at it as a means to satiate his desires. A hedonist to his core, a failing that often afflicted the atheist. In him, I found an unexpected kindred spirit, a contrast to the ever-dour Laes.
"I believe you once asked about a fountain of youth. Now that I'm hale again, I might just spend my time on a quest to find it," he joked, his jowls wobbling. But he must have noticed something serious and hungry in my expression, for his tone quickly shifted.
"I’ve heard that across the seas, the Warders of the Woods give or trade a fragment of their eternity to those with shorter lives. It’s how they maintain their great kingdom, rewarding their mortal tributaries with what they need to fend off the one thing they fear most: their end. I know this to be true—my source is a man who was shipwrecked here long ago. His account is trustworthy, and there’s truth in his words."
"So I must journey across the sea to obtain my heart's desire?" I mused, sipping from my cup.
"And bargain with the King of First Children, no less. A tale worthy of saga and song," Gelgor remarked, his piggy eyes twinkling with newfound health. "Do tell me what you find over there, and in return, I'll share the location of the fountain," he offered, masking his own desire behind a jovial smile.
We continued to talk for another half a turn of the glass and just as our conversation began to circle back to earlier themes, as discussions are often wont to do, Zariyah interrupted us. She had shed her revealing attire for a flowing garb that, while covering everything, suggested much beneath. Around her shoulders was a small satchel, no doubt filled with her meager belongings. Her half-veil obscured her eyes, crimson eyes that caught and held my appreciative gaze as I rose to greet her, nearly upsetting the table in my haste.
She gave me a wan smile, a forced silent acceptance of her new destiny. With a slight bow at the hip, she extended a roll of parchment with both hands towards me. Unraveling it, I observed it was inscribed in the Trade language, complete with stamps and official-looking notarization. Skimming the document confirmed Gelgor's earlier declaration. She was indeed the property of the parchment's holder, bound to serve for an additional forty-seven years and four months. Zariyah was now mine, to command as I deemed fit.