“I thought Shane was dealt with,” Jess said to herself as she walked over to the door, staring at the Speakers as they walked in a tight circle around their guests. Jess could barely make them out, three Mother-dwellers looking simultaneously proud and shy to have found the village of the Speakers. “I thought Soul was stable.”
Jess bit her lip and sighed. The universe she exercised control in reacted to every decision she made. What right had she to guide it? Prophets like Hawrendrin said it was Infinity Itself that gave her this right. Triumphants considered it the rule of the powerful and advanced. Prosperites considered it efficient. Jess couldn’t help but wonder what the universe would be like without a Prophet leading it.
The Speakers had no guidance, no will other than their own people to steer them in a proper direction. Jess had come to learn from them. Yet they rejected her presence more than even a Mill.
“I can’t dwell on this,” Jess thought. “I’m the Blesser and Matriarch. People chose me to have this position and I must exercise it. To choose not to would both betray their choice and potentially allow for chaos.” It was traditional philosophy regarding the position of the Sept. But it didn’t help ease Jess’s thoughts on the fact that millions had died, would die, because of her decisions. She’d saved millions more, but the cries of the suffering and the dead were more powerful in her mind than the apparent joy rising through the empathic communication of the Speakers she jealously watched.
Jess used the brewing to take her mind off of the universe that weighed down on her thoughts. Stirring and smelling, she contemplated the ingredients that went into the wort boiling before her.
“Is problem,” Vee said behind Jess.
Shocked at his presence, and angry at herself for not being able to spot someone sneaking up on her, Jess turned around to see Vee standing in the doorway. “No,” Jess replied. “The wort’s fine.”
“Not on wort. Is problem with Jess.”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Jess smiled in an attempt to add truth to this statement.
“Not question. Vee say this so Jess know Vee understand Jess have problem. Is on Prophets.”
Jess laughed again, not wanting to discuss things or burden Vee. “Yes. It’s a problem with the Prophets. But I’m the Blesser; I always have a problem with Prophets and the planets.”
“Is life,” Vee said, and walked over to investigate the wort. “Wort nearly done. Does Vee know what make beer work?”
“I admit this is my first attempt at it.”
Vee nodded as he took the spoon and gently stirred, wafting the steaming smell of the wort and taking a good sniff. “Is very complicated. Have to add ingredient at right time, in right amount, in right balance with all other ingredients.”
“Yes. It’s a lot like all other cooking recipes,” Jess said, watching Vee as he lovingly stirred the liquid.
“No. Beer is not like cooking,” Vee said as he took a small pot that had been cooling on a table, green flowers suspended in a dark green liquid. They emitted a potent smell that sent Jess’s sinuses reeling with the bitter, flowery smell. “Beer is alive. Must take ingredients in perfect balance, like cooking. But beer not finished with cooking part. Yeast, ingredients, fermentation. All these things stages can be affected by the slightest error.”
Vee held his hand over the wort. “I stick finger in wort,” Vee said and held his index finger centimeters from the rolling liquid, “it add salt, sweat, bacteria, skin cells, all sorts of things. I touch cake batter it not change taste of cake. Same with beast-hide and nearly all cooking. But slight touch of finger, and recipe is different. Can be good different. But always must be aware of impact by slightest touch.”
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Vee continued to hold his finger there, steam condensing on his hand till a droplet formed near his knuckle. “Understand, Jess,” Vee continued, “that this is not bad thing.”
“Why is that?” Jess asked as she watched that droplet crawl along Vee’s finger, slowly making its way to his fingernail.
“Point of brewing is to make beer. Point of many brewing is to make perfect beer, though this never happen. All things balanced and living and working together, changing, and still make beer.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Add malt not for sake of malt. Add malt to make beer. Add yeast not for sake of adding yeast. Add yeast to make beer. Same is for hops, even water. Must keep in mind goal is to make beer. Leave one ingredient out, may not become beer. Add too much ingredient, may not become beer. Goal to make perfect beer. But to make perfect beer, bad beer may happen.”
“I’ve heard this idea before, Vee,” Jess said. “You have to try things that don’t work in order to find the things that do.”
“Not idea Vee say. Vee say only ingredients that make beer should be added,” Vee said, and pulled his finger away right before the droplet of sweat and steam fell from his finger. “Vee say beer too fragile to touch. Must make beer, and trust beer to make beer. Understand?”
“I…” Jess paused, almost squinting at Vee as she thought on what he’d said. She wasn’t sure if he was speaking simply about beer, or if the deeper meaning behind what he’d said made any sense at all.
“Ah! Wort is done boiling. Come, help Vee cool wort down.” Before Jess could ask Vee to explain, he was already deeply involved in the final step of the brewing process.
Cooling the wort was a task Jess found deceptively simple. Vee attached a coil of copper tubing to the spigot with a hose. When he turned on the spigot, water ran through the tightly coiled copper and out a second hose, turning the spiraled copper tubing into an unmeltable ice cube that would quickly cool the wort. After removing the boiling wort from the stove, Vee placed the copper coil in the liquid. The fast-running water removed the heat via contact with the copper, filling jugs and containers no doubt waiting for future brews.
“Hold inside while Vee go to pump more water,” Vee said.
“How long should I leave it in there?” Jess asked.
“Jess not worry. Pump takes short time to start and then Vee will come back to check on wort. This part easy. Yeast part next. That fun part.”
Jess made sure to hold the hose at its proper position as Vee strolled out the door, humming a tune Jess had never heard before but instantly liked. Alone in the brew-house, Jess for the first time had a chance to look around and fully appreciate the building.
There wasn’t much to appreciate. In fact, the more she looked at it the more she realized it looked dirty and uninviting. The equipment was dreadfully old and shone with the dinginess of use. “Ugh,” Jess said as a verbal sign of her opinion of the place.
She was used to the pristine, curved halls and rooms of the White section of The Pinnacle. She was used to people with whom she could maintain her composure and handle with civility. Being with the Speakers, especially Vee and his unkempt brew-house, made Jess feel like a child. The strange part was that it wasn’t a discomfort.
Jess shut her eyes, imagining she was back at Sevens, wondering if she was needed there. She thought of how she would feel being there instead of where she was, if she should abandon the reason she came here, if she had learned anything from her brief time on Mother. It was then, with her eyes closed, that she felt something.
It was the smell. The sweet, fruit-like smell of malted grains and boiled wort and the delectably complex combinations of hundreds of recipes hanging in the air. The smell felt just as much a part of the brew-house as the walls themselves, igniting the mind to imagine something ageless, full of mystery and infinite happiness. This new thought, this new feeling, intrigued Jess enough that she let go of the hose and concentrated on the sensation in her mind. She tried to place it, tried to control it, analyzing this new-found awareness with a scientific curiosity.
As Jess examined her emotions, she suddenly felt something she wasn’t expecting come from outside. It was as if a fly had buzzed across the back of her mind. Reacting to the unpleasant sensation, Jess scratched at her scalp, only to find nothing but her own hair and suddenly itchy skin. Blinking, she tried to figure out if this was something different, or if it was part of the nostalgic feeling from the brew-house.
“That’s interesting,” Jess said when she realized that her pen was glowing White without her ever being aware of activating her powers. It was then that she heard the roars.