image [https://i.imgur.com/oTfUG6v.png]

THE MAIDEN

Monte and Thorna stepped outside into the afternoon light. The street had been pulsing with energy just before Monte had gone inside with the Charlatan. Now, it was quiet.

"Where did everyone go?" Monte asked. He was trying desperately to ignore the throbbing in his hand. He squeezed the rag Thorna had wrapped around it harder to numb the pain.

"Once you left, we took Torsten into the church. After that, I imagine everyone lost interest. That preacher had such a power over so many that I will never understand. They did what he said, like they were under some kind of spell." Thorna's voice trailed off like she was considering her words as she spoke to them, and didn't like the way they sounded.

Under a spell indeed.

Monte didn't believe in magic. At least not the kind one heard about in old stories. The Charlatan wasn't a magician, he was a criminal, and a good one. He filled people's heads with stories of greed and led them away from the old ways. Once they were emotionally alone and confused, he could manipulate them. It wasn't magic. If he hadn't met the Clockmaker, and heard his cat's bell with his own ears, he wouldn't believe that kind of magic either.

Monte felt something brush against his legs. He looked down, and the sound of the bell was as clear as ever.

"How did you get here?" Monte asked. The cat danced between his legs, tinkling her bell a few more times.

"There she is!" Thorna said, scooping down to pick up the cat, who looked contented.

"I went home to get bandages for Torsten's face. When I opened the door, this one bolted. I didn't know if we would ever see her again. I'm sorry to admit I had some more pressing issues on my mind. Oh I'm so glad she turned up."

The cat always finds me.

Monte said nothing. He took his good hand off the bandaged one to pet the cat between the ears. To his surprise, the pain didn't flood back as forcefully this time. The cats bell tinkled again.

The three of them made their way slowly across the empty street. Thorna pushed the door to the church open when they reached it. Inside, Monte realized where the crowd had dispersed to. Filling the pews were faces Monte recognized meeting before the preacher's sermon earlier that morning. Unlike then, nobody flashed dirty looks towards Thorna as she made her way towards her husband. Monte couldn't help his astonishment seeing them already back in this place so quickly. Did they even know the charlatan was dead?

It really was like a spell.

Torsten sat in the front row. Aside from the bandage covering half his face, he looked much better. The cat jumped on his lap and immediately settled down to nap.

"Monte! You made it out. I knew you would." Torsten said. His smile turned to a grimace, and he placed the hand not currently petting the cat on the bandaged part of his face. Monte had a habit lately of becoming fast friends with near strangers and being relieved to see them alive. It was a beautiful thing to behold, despite the circumstances.

"Don't be so dramatic, your wounds are nothing." Thorna admonished him with a smile. Torsten returned it briefly, then grimaced again.

"Is there anything we can do?" A voice from a few rows back asked, directing the question to Thorna. Monte looked toward the source and was sure he saw one of the couples who had been rude to Thorna earlier in the day. Thorna left to go speak with them. Monte watched her go, not a hint of a grudge at the corners of her mouth.

She's the hero here.

Once she was far enough away that she wouldn't hear, Monte turned to Torsten.

"How did these people find out so quickly?" Monte asked, gripping his bad hand again as pain swelled back.

"Find out what?" Torsten replied, holding his face in a similar manner.

Monte had a hard time believing Torsten hadn't heard about the charlatan's death. He found it impossible to believe the townsfolk were here in the church, forgiving whatever ill will they held towards Thorna, when they didn't know either. None of it made sense. There was no chance to get any answers in that moment. Just then the doors loudly swung open and a group burst through.

"Our leader is dead. Killed by one of his supposed followers." A young man shouted. Monte looked from face to face in the group. They wore cloaks like the devotees had worn in the room where the charlatan had been keeping Thorna, but it wasn't the same group. These people were all younger. Then he saw her.

Dancia was among this group. Hooded like the rest, standing nearest the door, but unmistakable. Monte felt his stomach drop out. For a moment the pain in his hand was swallowed by the feelings of seeing her with this group. How had he not seen this coming? Who was Dancia, really?

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Monte thought he was the mysterious one. He realized now neither of them revealed much of their true selves to the other in all the time they spent together. He would never see her again, he knew. Working through the feelings he had would take weeks.

Monte looked around and found Torsten's scanning the group of youth. Monte watched the father's gaze alight on his daughter's face. He'd expected a look of terror, or grief. Instead, Torsten seemed to don a wry smile, though his one good eye betrayed disappointment.

"We devotees still believe in his great teachings. Many of you were part of the flock. If you wish to come with us to spread the word, come now. We leave immediately." The same young man said. Monte looked around the room for anyone to move. A few people shifted in their seats, but not a person stood up.

"Then don't do this boy. Come home." Monte heard a man say from the pews. In the group of devotees, a young man shifted his weight around, then bowed his head and said nothing.

Monte looked at Dancia one more time. To his surprise she was staring at him. In her eyes he could read shame, guilt, apology. Or he thought he could. She diverted her gaze almost immediately. Monte would never know how she felt.

A moment later the group turned and filed out of the church. The man who had spoken up to his son put his arm around his wife. Monte saw she was gently heaving and assumed she must be sobbing.

"They'll be back before the week's out. Clueless lot." Torsten grumbled.

"Monte, it pains me to say it. I wish you weren't betrothed to my daughter." Torsten offered.

Monte looked at the man. Torsten had no need to say it pained him, that much was clear from what little of his face was left to read. That he said it all surprised Monte. The matter of betrothal had come up in the blacksmith shop. Then, Monte didn't know how to tell Torsten he wasn't actually planning to marry his daughter. He certainly didn't think now was the time to bring it up either. He decided to simply stay silent.

"A man like you… Well, the man I see you are now. She's not ready for that. You saw her up there I'm sure. She's still lost. I thought you were lost with her, and that would all be well and good. Now Monte I can see you know what you're looking for." Torsten said.

Once again, the pain in Monte's hand slipped out of observation. Torsten delivered such a complete and cutting assessment of Monte with so little information. Was he that obvious? Did he really know what he was looking for? Monte did, of course he did.

I'm looking for who killed my father.

Even the thought of that felt wrong. He was, of course, but that was just one step. He was looking for a way back to his community, back to himself. Torsten had apparently seen clearly that Monte wouldn't find that by marrying his daughter and settling in the Capitol.

A quiet settled between the two men. Monte had so much to consider and so little to say. When the blacksmith arrived, Monte was grateful to be freed from the burden of responding to Torsten. The blacksmith lumbered slowly around and stood in front of Torsten. The cat jumped away as Torsten stood up to face the man. Monte could see the blacksmith was still broken up from what he had done. Dried blood still flecked his white shirt. Then the big man smiled.

"Ho Tor… forgive me." He blubbered.

Torsten did something neither Monte nor the blacksmith was anticipating. He put both of his great arms around the the man and drew him in. Both men silently heaved a few times, then pulled away.

"I'm sorry too. What got into us?" Torsten said, breaking into a forced chuckle.

The two old friends said nothing more. Thorna rejoined the group. The blacksmith looked at her, then to Monte.

"I'm sorry to you too, Thor." He started.

"I'm the one who told him where you'd be. I kept Torsten behind so they could take you. I didn't believe that old rat would lay hands on a woman. I thought it was just to scare…" The blacksmith bowed his head into his hands.

"Something seemed wrong. I was going to confront the preacher myself, I wanted answers. I didn't think I would get so many so soon." The blacksmith said quietly.

"You showed up just in time. You did what you had to do." Thorna said, as she wrapped an arm around him and brought him into an embrace. Torsten placed a gentle hand on the man's shoulder in a gesture of forgiveness.

Monte guessed that meant there would be no more discussion of the events in the House of the Infirm. That was all for the best. The less anyone knew about what happened, and what was said, the better. Monte had questions, but like so many others, they would never have answers.

"Don't trouble yourself over it. We will move forward as we always have." Thorna said. Her grace was an inspiration to Monte. Dancia's parents were made of such sturdy stuff. Torsten's words floated in his head. One day Dancia would, if everything went well, be just like them. But she was young, she was still searching. So was Monte, it simply wasn't the right time.

"That reminds me! Tor, I'm opening the blacksmith shop again for prayer. No charge, nothing like that. I don’t know what I was thinkin'. You hear that?" The blacksmith boomed toward the room.

Monte turned and noticed the folk who had been in the church had by now all turned to see Torsten and the blacksmith. The other men who had prayed to the Husband earlier in the day were here. More people were making their way into the church all the time, apparently drawn by the others.

Soon the word will have spread to the entire community. Things here probably wouldn't go back to exactly the way they were before. There was no more preacher to compete with prayers to the Seven. The blacksmith was opening his shop back to the prayers. Eventually those young folk who were still entranced by the preacher's words would return. Why had the preacher come here in the first place? What was it about this hamlet? Could it be that Dancia was a plant all along? Just a pawn to ensnare him and give the preacher what he really sought.

Monte had no time to consider the possibility further. He felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see the Innkeeper. The man's eye had healed well, and he looked like quite a friendly fellow without the bruising.

"I'm glad I found you. I need some help if you're willing to give it." The Innkeeper said. Monte was taken aback by the forwardness. The Innkeeper had been one of the recently converted devotees, Monte knew.

I won't spring another trap today.

"I am, assuming it doesn't involve following you to some unknown place." Monte said. The look on the Innkeeper's face belied his confusion at the response. Of course he didn't know what kind of day Monte had. He regretted the cryptic response.

"Yes, yes I will help. What's the favor?" Monte said quickly.

"I plan on tapping a new cask, and I could use a hand." The Innkeeper smiled knowingly as he said it.

"I'll be glad to, if you promise me and these men a round on the house, for the trouble." Monte smiled back at the Innkeeper.

The beer was chilled and foamy and fresh. By the second flagon, Monte could hardly feel the pain in his hand. The wheelbarrow men, the Blacksmith, his retinue, and Torsten were all reunited. It wasn't all over, but an evening of fresh ale wouldn't hurt the healing process.

In the morning, Monte would collect the cat and head back to the Capitol. There was still a long road ahead. For one more night though he could simply enjoy himself.