“Ever since I’ve gotten here I’ve wondered why you stay. Why you tolerate the desolation and the heat and the politics for so long. It would make sense that you’re not here of your own accord, I’m just curious as to why.”
Jere wanted to chastise Appo for wasting time. He should be on his way down the Thorne by now, trying to forget the faces here. But before thoughts could become words, Jere noticed Appo’s necklace; a simple thread adorned with a humble tin plate of the criss-crossed lines of Lowya. It had been many years since Jere carried any vestige of his god. And longer still since he carried the role of priest. He longed for when he could put the trust of anyone other than himself. God or human.
“Those jagged lines you wear,” Jere sighed, “they protect you, right? I once wore one much like it: the Scales of Pike. Pike watched everywhere I went, and asked little in return. When my ship was destroyed by a Lavast fleet in the Valta, he provided me with soft currents to swim ashore. When I was chased by bandits on the steppe, he would guide their arrows off their target. When I needed Coin, he provided me with many fools as a source for my labor. Many Gods are greedy, demanding ‘sacrifice’ and ‘tribute’, but Pike only admires those who can fend for themselves. He rewards the cunning.”
Appo had never heard of Pike before. As ignorant as he was of the gods in the desert, he knew next to nothing of the ones in the south. “He seems like someone you would admire.”
“Yes,” Jere said. “He was.”
“But you’re no longer a priest?”
Jere laughed. “Not since I was a boy.”
“So what happened? Are you not still consecrated? Is that not for life like it is up here?”
“Have you ever been in love?” Jere looked directly into Appo’s eyes, catching him off guard. Appo hesitated, before lightly nodding his head. “You’ve done dumb things for that person, right? ‘Give your life for them’, that sort of thing?” Appo nodded again. “Well, my person convinced me to do many dumb things. Dumb things that cost me many homes. I robbed, conned, and killed for her. Instead of blaming her, I blamed everyone else. Even Pike. I blamed him for not watching over me, and I overlooked every other way he influenced my life. A fool I was… Pike doesn’t ask for much, but he doesn’t offer second chances. I cursed his name once after a long night of drinking, my damned mouth… I felt as though I lost a barrier to the world. Like a coat of steel that evaporated into mist.”
By this point Jere was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall behind Appo. “In one day I lost everything. Abandoned by everyone I knew. Attacked by the beasts of the Steppe. I would have died, were it not for the slave traders, though their help came at a cost. They captured me, and for months I was transported up north until we reached Ash, where Boah happened to spot me. His sense of style may be shit, but he has good taste when it comes to quality slaves.”
Appo tried to hide the pity in his eyes. “And he's made you work for him for the last five years.”
Jere held his arms out to his barren walls. “He provides a roof.” Jere chuckled. He had long prior come to find humor in his situation. “For years I’ve waited for freedom. But I’ve learned long ago that Boah is not a man of kindness. He will grind me down until I am dulled… What’s unfortunate is that I no longer know if I want to leave. If I even could. My god has forsaken me, and I am unprotected from the elements. This town - this wasteland - is all I know now.”
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Both men sat in silence for a moment. Neither knew what to say. Jere had said far more than he was accustomed to, and Appo was worried he would say the wrong thing. Both were unsure how to proceed. It was not like men to share each other’s stories to such a degree. Most preferred to keep discussion to trivial matters, like men they had fought or women they wished to bed. Very few, even the closest of friends, knew the intimate details of each other’s lives unless both were drunk, and fewer less remembered them.
Appo broke the silence. “I never thought I would be a good priest. In Jyvask, I knew a man who could talk to Lord Atta for years at a time. Claimed he could feel the verberations of his voice coursing his veins.” Appo chuckled. “I never could. Not once did we ever speak. And what’s strange is that I’m not convinced the others did either. But they were convinced.”
“Worship isn’t always a conversation. Even I know this.”
“I know. But there was no connection. I don’t feel the warm glow of the limestone pillar. I never did.”
Jere shook his head. “You speak like an atheist, healer. I thought they only lived in dungeons and asylums.”
“I worship Lowya,” Appo said, “but I don’t speak to her through prayer. At least… I don’t believe she hears me. I speak to her in my actions. My bidding is done through the healing of the sick and the destitute. I pray with suture and disinfectant. When I debride, I hear her echo in the air, her guidance in my moves. We do not speak, but we understand each other more than I ever could with Atta. With her, even when I am alone I am at least myself, and I feel like I can go anywhere and be whoever I want. I wish Pike can forgive you, but if he cannot I hope you can forgive yourself.”
Jere smiled. “Thank you, healer.” He meant it.
As Jere pondered an appropriate response, he became aware of a creak coming from the other side of the door. As if it was being pushed against. His hand went instinctively for a scimitar.
“What’s wrong?” Appo asked. As the question came out Jere’s door was forced open. Several guards shuffled into the room, pushing each other out of the way. They glared at the two with intensity, though focused more on Appo. Jere hollered, but held his scimitar at his side. After six men forced their way into the room, they moved aside to the walls. In the doorway stood Juddken, who held a stone club and a rope. He was smiling.
“Juddken!” Jere yelled, “What is the meaning of this?” Juddken ignored him, focusing instead on Appo.
“Appo the healer, you have been accused of conspiring with witchfolk, and are requested to respond to these accusations. You are to report immediately to the manor where an investigation will determine the severity of these crimes.
Appo was dumbstruck, still taking in the situation. Before he could respond, Jere put himself between him and the guards. “Conspiring with witches? What ‘conspiring’ took place?”
“Last night, the healer was spotted fraternizing with the witch. We have a witness who saw him sharing curses with her and treating her wounds before her exile.”
Jere laughed. “This is absurd. The healer asked your father to question the witch. If talking to an old woman called for an investigation than you’d speak to the entire fucking town.”
Juddken shook his head, as though he wasn’t surprised by Jere’s boldness. “That’s your word against his. Regardless, we’re going to sort this all out at the manor.” As he said this, he and a few other guards pushed aside Jere and grabbed Appo’s wrists. Juddken handed his rope to one of his men, who began tying Appo’s hands together.
“In that case I’m coming too. I’m not leaving the healer alone with you.” He approached Juddken, glaring into his eyes much like he had done with Adok the night before. If Juddken was concerned, he didn’t show it.
“Come along then.” Juddken pushed Appo out of the room, with Jere following closely behind.