We were finishing dinner when I first realised we were being tailed.
It was the end of our third day travelling, and I’d cooked what would normally be described as a boring meal – curry designed to be portioned atop flatbread, which would then be eaten folded over itself – except that in an attempt to conceal the lacklustre ingredients foraged from the heartwoods I’d added a heaping of the spice I carried alongside my cooking implements. Generally, the Strains enjoyed a bit of fire in their food – especially Whip, as feeling something approaching pain was a novel experience for her – and though I’d worried about how Tippi, Crumpet, and Jana would handle the food, they had managed to force it down with few complaints.
To my surprise – and glee – the person who had the worst time eating it had been Kit.
“You okay?” Gast had asked.
While tears and snot dripped from the respective orifices, Kit’s only reply had been, “Yeah.”
The best part was, I’d made a portion without spice for Ronnie’s dog, who sat curled at the giant’s feet. Each time someone suggested it, she’d obstinately refused.
Upon seeing her discomfort, I’d settled into a solid half an hour of mercilessly teasing the swordswoman for her lack of tolerance, Ronnie quietly chuffing all the way through my spiel. She’d doggedly worked her way through the meal, and by the time she’d finished, her lips were swollen and her eyes were full of hate.
Before she could settle into her vengeance, I noticed several sparks of life creeping around the edge of my sixth-sense. I joined Davian, who’d been standing separate from the group for some time, partially engulfed in darkness.
“Vin,” the old man said in a low voice, “do you hear that?”
I made a show of focusing. Past the quiet chatter emanating from around the caravan’s campfires, and huddled beneath the sound of Kit tentatively strumming the strings of my lute, lay the crunching of leaves emanating from down the trail. Just loud enough to be perceivable by an unblooded with sharp senses.
“I do,” came my eventual reply.
“That’s a human’s cadence.” He stared into the inscrutable darkness. “Not just one, either.”
“Do you have an idea of their numbers?”
Davian turned a mishappen ear towards the darkness. “Three. Perhaps four.”
Although I sensed only three, the fourth could have been outside my range. Usually my eyes were capable of picking out silhouettes in darkness, but with the woods yielding only a narrow strip of starlight from above the river and the light of the fire having ruined my night-vision, I was as blind as a man untouched by gods.
“Should we tell the others?”
“Of course. Get Rita,” he said, quickly adding, “if you would be so kind.”
I was already moving. Gesturing the sign for ‘caution’ towards my team, I jogged towards the patrolling form of the mercenary captain. Her team had eaten their meal earlier than my own, allowing us to alternate our shifts. When I was close, she raised a hand in acknowledgement.
“Vin.” She nodded at me, crossbow cradled in her arms.
“Rita,” I called, “there’s- “
“A stalker, eh?” Rita finished for me, a lopsided smile on her face. “Me boys told me.”
“You’ve noticed them?”
She jerked her crossbow towards the forest. “Got two headin’ through the heartwoods t’flank ‘em.”
A disapproving frown crossed my face. “You should’ve told us.”
“Didn’ wanna stir you.”
“What happens if they’re attacked by monsters in the forest?”
She paused, then continued. “That won’t happen.”
“It might,” I stressed, shaking my head in disbelief. “Tell us next time.”
She shrugged. “Alright, alright. Need a few of you t’take over the guard while we handle this.”
“Let me come,” I blurted. For a brief moment, I turned my head to master the angry scowl that had risen in response to my abrupt demand.
Rita seemed unperturbed. “Sure. Follow m’lead, eh?”
With feigned nonchalance, the two of us walked to the back of the caravan where my group had been eating moments earlier. Jana and the children walked past us, the scarred lady sneering at me as passed one another. “Keep better watch next time,” she demanded.
A titanic flexing of will restrained my urge to punt her.
“Pleasant lady,” the short guard beside me remarked.
“She’s Kit’s, not mine.”
“Poor girl.”
I grunted an agreement as we continued walking.
Eventually, the two of us reached Kit and the Strains, perched rigidly on stones and pieces of luggage arranged around the campfire. The air was filled with the stench of pus; Whip was in the process of draining the fluid that built up in her bum leg.
“I don’t think anyone else is sneaking up on us,” I stated, “but just in case: Ronnie, Whip, and Kit, could you guard the backside of the caravan?”
“Oxdung,” the swordswoman retorted before anyone else could speak. “I’m comin’.”
Rita scoffed lightly at her response, and Kit’s eyes seized upon her like a rabid dog. I placed myself between the two before anything could occur and faced my comrade.
My mouth to argue, then closed just as quickly. “Fine,” I sighed. “Davian?”
“I can, yes,” the Strain agreed. “Though I think we need to discuss a protocol for similar circumstances in the future.”
Whip and Ronnie nodded.
“Yeah, fair enough. Could you come with us, Gast?”
The large woman nodded, having buckled her large shield onto one arm and her expansive runestone on the other. Runestone might’ve been a misnomer; it resembled a meticulously chiselled slab more than anything else. Gazing into it gave anyone untouched by Yoot a headache – the recursive patterns couldn’t fit inside a conventional mind.
Rita sat down in the circle as the three Strains left. She motioned for me to do the same.
For a short stretch we sat, our bodies facing the darkness while Rita and I attempted to keep a conversation going. Keeping a casual atmosphere was doomed to failure; Kit kept caressing the hilt of her sword and staring at the short mercenary, and Gast had three syllables in her at the best of times.
Even so, Rita managed to convey the signal we were waiting for: two of her men would sneak up behind and open the front of an ever-burning lantern when they’d successfully flanked them. Tempting as searching for our intruders was, I kept my eyes on the stars above the river.
Three beams of life shuffled through my perception. All were unknown to me. Simultaneously, Rita’s subordinates made their circuitous route through the heartwoods.
We waited.
The guards continued. The stalkers came closer.
I nudged Rita with my elbow. She nodded. The three who were following us stood barely five paces from our fire, their silhouettes looming above our seated forms.
“Excuse me,” asked one of the figures. “Could we trouble you for some food?”
“Be my guest,” I quickly responded, before anyone decided to kill them. “I’ve got some leftovers that we’ll have to tip anyway.”
The guard sitting opposite me glared. “That’s the food we- “
“No,” cackled Kit, “it’s monster Strain, stuff we picked an’ roots he gathered. Nothin’ outta yer coffers.”
Rita wore a complex expression. “What’re you doin’ with’a food we’re givin’ you?”
“Storing it,” I answered.
“Why?”
“I’m a big eater.”
“But- “
“Point is,” came Kit’s gleeful interruption, stomping over Rita’s voice, “is that it’s our food, and ours to decide what to do with it. So,” she turned to the figures, “come and eat.”
The figure was still. “We would not want to impose- “
One of their companions strode into the light, revealing a stocky man covered almost entirely by body-hair. Beneath the fur, his skin was onyx. “Don’t be stupid, sister. They’ve given permission.”
The person who’d greeted us first edged their way into the firelight, revealing a dark-skinned woman with long, free-flowing hair. Following her was a gawky teenager who appeared similar to both.
“My name is Laja,” said the woman, settling atop a crate. She gestured towards the hairy man, who was inspecting the remnants of stew left in our pot. “That’s my elder brother, Malee. And this,” she patted the youth on the shoulder, who seemed more scared than anything else, “is our youngest brother, Taja.”
The siblings wore patchwork tunics, closer to a stitched assemblage of rags than anything else. Each carried cloth satchels tied around their necks, the stomach of the bags falling against their backs. Like most people I’d seen in the Heartlands, they bore the marks of extended starvation.
I stared levelly at the three. “Are you invoking guest-right?”
Laja’s eyes widened. “Y-yes,” she stuttered, “if you would be so kind.”
Nodding slowly, my gaze fell onto those gathered around the fire. “They’re promising to do us no harm, if we promise the same.”
Kit snorted. “Promise’re just words.”
“Come on. Do they look dangerous?”
The swordswoman glared at them. “Empty your bags.”
Before I could respond, Malee untied the cloth from around his neck and unrolled it on the ground. His earthly possessions lacked any kind of ostentation: a small pot, a corked bottle of water, a hefty bronze knife and a string of six wooden chits. In response to their brother’s display, the two other followed suit, revealing similarly austere possessions.
Kit reached for their chit-strings, and I shot to my feet. “No. They’re guests.”
She scoffed. “Not my guests.”
“Mine,” I stressed.
“Fine,” she spat. “Fine.”
A short pause fell upon us. “Vin,” said Rita calmly. One side of her mouth tilted downward. “You should’a let me consult our employer beforehand.”
“It’s my food. And Tully wouldn’t just… let them starve, right?”
The short woman smirked humourlessly, crossbow across her lap. “Vin…”
“Just humour me.”
She closed her eyes, and breathed in. After a moment, she opened them again. “I won’t argue with you. But this’s serious business; I’m tellin’ Tully now.” Rita rose and strode off, snubbing any possible response I could give.
I watched her go, merging with the darkness and then reemerging every time she brushed the light of campfire. The flames cast dancing shadow and light across the wagons, twisting wildly every time a figure walked past. Only the low murmur of conversation prevented the scene from seeing ghastly; as if flame and murk were both equally covetous.
“Guest-right?” asked Gast. I started.
“They’re from one of the nomadic tribes, I believe. It’s a custom.”
Malee was investigating our stew ladle thoughtfully.
“We don’t have any bowls,” I said.
The man straightened. “Do you have any spoons?”
I straightened and headed to the wagon, managing to procure three spoons after a small amount of rifling around. It was a habit to whittle several as a woodworking warm-up, before I began carving in earnest. Each of my guests received one.
Laja smiled gratefully as I handed her one. “Thank you… Vin, was it?”
“That’s right.” Shooting Gast and Kit a sharp look had the pair reluctantly introducing themselves.
The siblings gazed at me silently. Belatedly, I gestured towards the pot, causing them to fall onto it like rabid animals. Bereft of words, Kit, Gast, and I all glanced at one another. With a thump, our lone Strain slumped backwards and closed her eyes.
Kit withdrew a cigarillo from her pouch, gazed at it longingly, then placed it between her lips unlit. “How’d you know they were nomads?” she idly asked.
“Their names have suffixes exclusive to the region.”
“Right,” she nodded blankly, “suffixes.”
Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.
Concealing a smirk, I continued the explanation. “They get different sounds added to their names depending on their status. ‘Ja’, is given to children or women, while ‘Lee’ is reserved for those that’ve reached manhood. There are a few others, but- ”
“So women’re th’ same as kids?” Kit frowned. “That’s messed up.” She turned to the three eating. “That’s messed up,” she repeated, angrily.
They didn’t appear to notice her rebuke, between shovelling scoops of stew into their gullets.
“It’s not their fault.”
“They keep with it!” she insisted.
“Look,” I whispered, leaning forward, “maybe it’s not ideal, but given that these three are in the Heartlands, it’s likely they’re no longer part of a tribe. It’s just their names, now.”
“Godsdamned ‘ja’.”
I groaned. “Think of them as just names.”
“I oughta- “
“Shut up,” I told her, exasperated. “What’re you going to do, wage a war on culture?”
She nodded towards them. “Startin’ with them.”
“How?”
She opened her mouth to respond, and then shut it with a sharp clack of teeth. A frown fell upon her face, and I realised there would be no response anytime soon. Figuring out how to combat an entire way of life required significant brainpower. To my admittedly biased eyes, Kit did not seem up to the task.
I scratched my head.
“You’re from Spires, correct? What brings you three here?” I asked.
Taja looked up from the pot. “The Heartlands does not possess the bounty we believed it did.”
“That’s why you came here?”
“Isn’t that why anyone goes anywhere?” Malee muttered, placing his spoon between his lips. “To eat?”
Kit laughed quietly at something.
The dark woman frowned at her brother. “That is why we came here. And Heltia is no longer a good place to be.”
“Oh?”
“Come now. The Declaration; the famine; all the desperation for Ichor, a solution to bloodtech’s need for fuel which may or may not exist – House Heltia is not long for this world. With the Jackal gone, there is no better time to leave.”
I shook my head. “The Jackal’s Get aren’t the only thieves and bandits out there.”
“I’m sure the news of her execution will scare the others.”
“Maybe,” I acceded. “But the news will take time to travel, and the Jackal’s not gone yet. Besides, they might read the winds as well as you – Heltia’s going.”
“Can Houses fall?” Gast’s question seemed closer to a remark. “Spires, maybe. Not Heltia.”
Everyone sat on that for a moment.
I sighed and nodded at Gast, who’s eyes were already closed again. “Yeah, you’re probably right. They’re close, though. I bet a killer like the Jackal could-”
“Yer here to leech.” Kit’s voice cut through our conversation like a blade through flesh. “’m I right?”
The siblings stared at her, faces still.
“Kit,” I warned, “I invited them- “
“Agh, you idiot.” She spat on the ground beside her seat. “Not here.“ She made a gesture as if circling the fire. “Here.” She waved her hands expansively around us.
I furrowed my brows. “What?”
“I bet they’ve been followin’ us since we left. Buncha wagons – tasty targets for monsters, people, whatever. Nice distraction for’a few leeches sneakin’ behind.” The whites of Kit’s eyes danced in the firelight as she laughed mockingly. “Still can’t beat hunger, though. So they come beggin’ to th’ people they’re usin’.”
My eyes quirked to the side. Tully’s form lingered outside of our blaze.
“Is she right?” My question was directed towards the three huddled around the pot.
While the other two avoided my eyes, Malee met them calmly. “Yes. It is shameful. But you lose nothing.”
Kit leaned towards the stocky man, smiling. “Until you started eatin’. Now you take.”
He looked down. After a moment, his gaze rose again. “Yes.”
The swordswoman grinned. “Is it shameful?” A sudden breeze set the fire dancing, and her hair followed its lead.
Above Malee’s beard, his dark eyes glared. “Yes. But it was given.”
She threw a finger in my direction. “He was taken advantage of, y’mean.”
“We all make choices.”
Kit began to say something, then stopped and grunted instead. As if signalled, Tully walked into our range, staring at the three seated on the dirt.
She looked at me. “You allowed this?”
I swallowed, keeping my gaze just above her eyes. “I did, yes.”
“Without consulting me?” Belying the situations, her words were calm and even.
I spread my hands. “They were hungry- “
“This is not your caravan, Vin. I am your employer.”
The youngest of the siblings spoke for the first time. “He gave us guest-right.”
Tully’s small eyes fixed on Taja. “That was not his to give.” Her scarred face turned back to my own. “Vin.” She sighed gently. “I didn’t explicitly identify that you could not invite new individuals into the caravan, so I won’t reprimand you harshly. But if you do so again, I will cut your final payment.”
“I understand,” I said, nodding, “but if it’s alright with you- “
“It isn’t your business whether these people starve.”
I looked at the ground. A tremble worked its way into my fingers. I gripped my arms to steady them. Tully spoke, but the words weren’t directed at me. The sounds passed through my perception, unmolested by comprehension.
Someone sat beside me. After a moment, they punched me in the arm hard enough to bruise.
“Ow,” I complained, rubbing the injury. “What was that for?”
I turned to Kit, then blinked. Her expression was bereft of any levity.
She whispered. “What are you doing.” It wasn’t stated like a question.
My only response was a frown.
“Yer just gonna let her kick ‘em out?”
“What?” I snapped. “You were practically doing so yourself.”
“This ain’t about me, Vin.” Muscles on the side of her jaw bulged. “Why’re you doing nothing?”
“She’s. Our. Boss.” I enunciated each syllable precisely.
“You’ll do nothin’?”
I scowled. “It’s not my business.”
Her expression twisted into a rictus of savagery, fierce and full of teeth. “What’n th’ blood- “ She stopped, then threw up her hands and stood. “Yer a godsdamned coward, Vin.”
Kit stormed into the night. I stared after her, gaping. Her form flickered in and out of darkness, eventually settling into a patrol route alongside the other Strains. Gradually, my eyes drifted from the darkness back onto the fire. Beside us, Tully was still speaking in the general direction of the three siblings.
“…you’ll have to leave,” she said, finishing some long-winded spiel.
“We answered your questions,” pleaded Laja. “There’s no one behind you; we are no threat.”
“And I appreciate you doing so,” the scarred woman said, nodding. “But it’s impossible to confirm your intentions, and the safety of the caravan is my first priority. Finish your meal – then go.”
“We will not impede you, or take your food.”
Tully gazed down her nose levelly. “You’ll starve, then?”
“We can- “
“You can’t. Go back to Spires.”
A new voice responded before Laja could. “I don’t think this is okay.” Without turning my head, I knew it was Maddie; Rita standing beside here.
Tully turned her head slowly. “Maddie…” she said, gently.
The girl shook her head. “We can’t leave them here.”
“They’re a risk.” The grey-haired woman stressed the final word. “Everyone here is vouched for, and thoroughly checked; everyone except them.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Does it matter?” The question was rhetorical. “We’re human; they’re human. That’s enough.”
“It’s impossible to save everyone.”
“Even those right under our noses? We can save them some suffering – why not have them come along?”
Tully shook her head. “It’s not happening, Maddie.”
The hooded girl lowered her face, gazing at the ground. “No.” She straightened. “I think it is.”
There was a short silence.
I swallowed, then rubbed my lips rapidly. “If they stay, we could have them help guard,” I said. Everyone turned to look at me. My eyes darted between the siblings, Tully, Rita, and Maddie. “Nomads are, uh, usually perceptive. Used to watching for danger.”
Rita nodded. “It’s not an awful idea, boss. Our scouts are sufficient, here, but the river won’t guard our side forever.”
Tully stared into the black forest. She sucked in a breath through her teeth. “We’re not the only members of the caravan, Maddie. Persuade them.”
The slight hooded figure clapped her hands, once, then pumped a fist, while Rita smiled fondly. Almost inaudibly, the trio of nomads released their breaths. I did so as well, albeit far slower and more subtly.
“That won’t be easy,” I remarked to the smoke above the fire.
“Ah, don’t worry about it Vin,” Rita drawled. “Kid’s always been good at gettin’ what she wants.”
I turned to the short guard quickly, then blunted the sharpness of my gaze. “Oh?”
She noticed. “I’ve known her an’ Tully for a time.”
I nodded blandly, keeping my face as blank as possible.
“Okay!” Maddie slammed her hands together. She turned to Taja, Laja, and Malee. “I’m Maddie. It’s a pleasure to meet the three of you! You’ll have to tell me about yourselves later, okay?”
They nodded almost in unison. Taja and Laja wore wide, open expressions, as if a wolf had revealed itself to be a dog. Malee stared blankly, then lit up into a grin. “Thank you, Maddie,” he said.
I watched her mouth transform into a wide and honest smile.
Thumbing an itch forming beneath my bandana, I glanced away.
----------------------------------------
In the end, Rita was right. Maddie convinced the entire caravan.
After nearly an hour of the young woman cajoling each group, everyone had gathered together around a more central fire, with only the guards, Ronnie’s dog, and the siblings themselves absent, having been pressed into service as an extra set of eyes against the darkness.
The Smiths had agreed with her almost instantly, citing common decency and the need for more scouts as their main justification. On the other hand, the Growers had been far leerier. With uncharacteristic severity, Snapper had argued that their rations had been stringently planned and that feeding three more people could be the difference between people eating and going hungry if anything interfered with our travel time. In response, the Strains and I had volunteered to share our food with them, which caused Kit to descend into a tirade about ‘bleedin’ hearts bleedin’ t’death’, Jana nodding along all the while. She’d ended up giving in when none of us budged, an incongruently smug smile plastered across her face.
Aron had taken up her argument. His though process had been simple: they hadn’t paid, so they shouldn’t come. With rhetoric couched in grand statements, friendly apologies, and an expression so mournful I almost thought someone had killed his dog, he’d called the trio leeches. Unfortunately for him, by this point everyone’d been converted to Maddie’s side, and the man reluctantly folded under the weight of everyone’s objections.
The term ‘leeches’ stuck, though.
The quiet group of three men said little the entire time, and left as soon as the conclusion had formed. I eyed them as they went.
At the end of it all, the Strains and I were saddled with the responsibility of caring for them and keeping them out of trouble. It seemed stupid, to me – they weren’t children, and there was little cause for us to worry about them wandering into a monster’s mouth – but trusting strangers was difficult. We’d feed them, and they’d sleep under our cart, with the Missus.
People slowly left the gathering site: Aron grumbling to Willow; Snapper calling Atifi a ‘no-brained woman’ for suggesting finding food was easy; Odrin quietly conferring with Gast about some arcane subject; Tully staring at Maddie expressionlessly; and the rest either talking, leaving quietly, or staring at the ground with furrowed brows.
I was one of the latter. As I shuffled my seated position slightly, the pouch containing my Face pressed against my hip. I took it out, depressing the mechanism in its underside and spinning the mask’s facets. The gods flashed by in a mad rotation, coalescing and falling apart as my mind formed patterns and then lost them again. Placing a single finger on it stopped its whirling, and I felt the tiny ornamentations I’d embedded in its black material over the course of a year.
Rolling my shoulders, I levered myself up onto the crate I’d been sitting on and stood above the caravaners. “It’s been a long day, hasn’t it?” I called, projecting my voice from my gut. Everyone turned to stare, and I saw Whip immediately break into a smile. “It’s been a long few days, with a lot of walking and a lot of working; an almost endless amount of both.”
The audience seemed confused. I gazed at my Face, then looked up at them, grinning wryly. Tippi – the sullen child Kit cared for – whispered something to Crumpet, who hopped excitedly.
“And that’s not all, is it? Because we’re not done. Months of labour await us, and though I trust each and every one of you to perform your duties admirably, let’s not pretend it won’t wear on us all.”
“And so, to clear the air, reduce our fatigue and set our feet straight, I have a tale for you all,” I announced. By this point, everyone had noticed the mask in my hands.
I breathed in, then out. “Before humility and before Houses, before certainty and before security… there was Blood.” I spoke in a measured cadence, each syllable heavy as a drumbeat. “And alongside Blood came gods. Dure the Lizard; Enn the Ox; Kani the Fox; Siik the Spider; Wump the Dolphin; Yoot the Owl and…” I paused, eying those watching. “…Avri the Raven.”
I remembered the first time I’d seen a Divinity. From a distant branch, watching a doll-like figure shake and rattle its way around a clearing. Bhan’d always preferred more intricate, ceremonial introductions: an invitation by the host, a showing of each god, a reply from the audience and the acquiescence of the very young and very old. But it was the short and sudden introduction that’d first arrested me. And this was an informal Divinity, after all.
“The gods are wild and full of secrets – yet through this Face,” I raised the mask and turned around, so the audience could see its onyx contours, “they will speak to you. The Artful Divinity is part history, part secret, and part fabrication – but none of it is untrue.”
The audience had simultaneously waxed and waned. Several had left, including Rita, Aron, and Jana, yet every child had been hurriedly raised from their dozing and brought here, to be seated in a circle in front of me. The Strains were among them, Gast hastily dragged over by Ronnie. Maddie wore an excited smile, while Kit stared with wide eyes.
I stepped down from the log, and began methodically pacing my way around the crowd, my eyes roaming across those seated. “Have you ever wanted something so badly, you would spend your life chasing it? Bending your days around a wish’s fulfillment; spending each waking moment imagining its conclusion; scheming to see it through, no matter what may stand in your way?”
I stopped, gaze panning the crowd carefully. “We all have things we want. But there’s only one being so dedicated, everything that it was would be fed to its wish’s flames: Dure, the Lizard.”
All of the gods had their own stories, fabricated by Faces such as myself. The Lizard’s was usually the lightest of all, because of all deities, Dure was the least intimidating. Unlike the other gods, it never seemed to take deliberate action against human life – the parasites and plague that ravaged the Lizard did so in its stead.
But Bhan had argued that Dure was called ‘the Suffering’ for a reason. Its gentle nature only elevated that tragedy. He’d never seen the Lizard. He’d never seen the death that dogged its steps; how its mere presence could wrap the land around it in a haze of the hungry and the dead. But I had, and despite everything, I agreed with him.
The Lizard was a victim of its own godhood.
I donned my Face, clicking it into a mask that transformed the intricate lines of the mask into wriggling maggots, chunks of flesh around the eyes missing to reveal bone and deep-set eye-sockets. The Lizard stared and it did not look away.
I shifted sideways into Dure’s character and unlike Bhan, I did not debase it by crawling on all fours. But Dure did slump, and its steps writhed with quivers of agony and deep fatigue. Its movements were the jerking of a man on the edge of death, kept one step from the release of death by sheer bloody-mindedness. Except like some tragic romance, death only ever moved closer to Dure. They could never touch.
From behind the mask, I looked out with a singular will. Read the audience. Create a story. Tell the truth.
Perform the Artful Divinity.
I fell into the tale like a starving man falls onto a feast, weaving my actions and unuttered words into an image of a god who desired nothing more than to protect, and devoted everything it had into doing so.
As I paced around the circle of people those within watched my performance and the children were wide-eyed and the adults either engrossed or darkly amused; those belonging to the latter had some idea of why I’d chosen to spin this tale specifically: Atifi, Tully, Ronnie and Kit among them, while Davian’s expression could’ve meant anything as his facial warping made him impossible to read and though all assembled were unique – callous or kind; innocent or twisted – watching their reactions showed me the common thread between them all; that same palette of emotion passing behind their eyes that all of humanity shared.
In the moment, I could turn and lunge and exult in the desire to protect that vitality, and make it mine, and in doing so I became more immersed in the performance, closer to imitating a god in full and in my slumping movements and near-silent words Dure did everything to fulfil its duty, whether it be stealing food or killing innocents: it was a creature that could only see one option once it bent its being to a task and as it did so I watched the audience, gauging whether or not they saw its descent and reflected in their eyes were my movements, varying between the staggering halt of the dying or the incredible vitality of those who knew their end approached, the act informed by all of the people with one foot in the grave I’d seen over the decades.
In the end, there was only one outcome for a creature so singular: it failed, and all of the things it had sacrificed meant nothing and yet, Dure kept moving and fulfilling its purpose, even though the meaning of its actions had been lost.
Slowly, I came back to myself. Sweat had drenched my tunic, transforming the night air into something piercingly cold. I looked at the audience – all people I knew, whether for days or over a year. Whip, Miriel, Willow, and Malee had tears in their eyes. Snapper sniffed heavily, and rubbed his nose. Were I a better Face, all of the crowd would be weeping. That was a skill to covet.
I blinked rapidly behind my mask. “And, that,” I whispered, projecting my murmur across the circle, “is why Dure can never stop moving. Because to do so would be to remember. So take heed, good people, and do not devote yourself so fiercely you forget what is important. I am the Face Vin, and from you I want one thing…”
“Humanity,” the crowd belatedly chorused.
Kit did not join them. Something sharp sat within her dark eyes.
----------------------------------------
I sat with the fire crackling at my back, watching the wild heartwoods across from me. Most, including the children and elderly, had already settled in to sleep for the night, but a handful stayed awake for a while longer. As was usual, the first watch among our group had been given to me, and I’d take a double-shift.
The Divinity had finished with a few offerings of food and small trinkets. Snapper had given back the money he’d fleeced from me, telling me he owed that much for the privilege. Everyone had kept a respectful distance as I returned to my fire.
It was a nice night. The night air swirled merrily, mercifully cool and somehow peaceful despite the noise around us. My three guests sipped delicately from their spoons, which submerged in the stew in an orderly fashion from youngest to eldest. Around the caravan, other fires crackled, and a din of quiet conversation surrounded most. If I focused, I could’ve made out the specific words, yet I chose to let the murmurs wash over me. From the shadowed forest across from us cicadas buzzed constantly. I leaned back and closed my eyes.
The world walked through its paces, singing within my perception. If I focused, I could almost reach out and…
“You’re smiling.”
I opened my eyes. From within her tailored fur sleeping bag, Gast’s dark green eyes stared at me.
“I smile all the time,” I said, cocking an eyebrow. “It’s not that unusual.”
“No.” The denial was simple, and unadorned. The rotund woman’s gaze remained piercing, as if there was no world but me.
I looked away first. “I guess not, huh?”
Silence followed my words. Eventually, she spoke again. “You like this?”
Around us, the caravan began putting itself to bed. “It’s…” My answer trailed off, ended before it could even start.
I thumbed an itch beneath my bandana as my features crinkled oddly. It took a moment to recognise my expression as a sheepish smile. “I do.”
She nodded, rolled over, and went back to sleep.
The starry sky was beautiful; limitless. For once, I didn’t feel the need to stifle my good humour.
I let myself forget what I was. I would be reminded.