The Spaces Between (A Drunkard's Journey) (5 page)

“Supplies—?” Zhy paused, scratched his nose, and then his eyes lit up. “Oh yes, that’s right.” Far back in the tiny village of Forshen, Qainur had given a list of needed supplies to a messenger. Zhy provided half the coin, and the messenger sped off on his fast horse to a general goods store in Vronga. Zhy had assumed he was bidding that coin a final farewell, but now they were here in Vronga. Would the supplies be here?

“Aye,” Qainur replied. Then, looking out over the city, he remarked, “I think we should stay here tonight. I’m sure we would meet some interesting people.” His gaze sought the University, but it was buried over the horizon in the jumble of buildings and the smoke. He would love nothing more than to have gone in with Torplug and his sword drawn and
demand
recompense for turning him away. The thought was brief, and he buried it with a flash of consciousness—it would do no good to end the lives of his companions this early.

“I think I had already suggested that,” Torplug said absently.

Zhy shook his head, staring at his companions. If ever there was an opportunity to either stop this dead-end adventure, it was here. But it was also a dangerous place, for they could easily find themselves waylaid by any number of meaningless or dangerous diversions.

He gave Qainur a hard stare, but he couldn’t fault the man for noticing the young women. He too found himself captivated.
I can make a trap using knots,
his father spoke in his mind. The tone from the grave was enough to give him pause, but after a moment of thinking, he realized this made no sense…he let it go, attributing it to the long journey and the abstention from ale.

Vronga was a bustling but dangerous place. The intersection of the great roads allowed for the unscrupulous to arrive quickly and leave unnoticed. There were countless side streets and alleys in such a large city, and neither Zhy, Torplug, nor Qainur knew the safe streets from those dead-end alleys that could end in robbery, rape, or death.

Zhy’s thoughts flashed through a hundred different scenarios, some of which ended quite favorably—many times with nice, soft flesh next to him. But then his cynical mind would race and he would imagine the girl’s father barging in with a scythe. Looking down a particularly dark and foreboding alley, all he could picture were the splayed remains of his companions.

Not able to envisage a happy ending, he finally shook his head. “No, it’s a waste of time.”

“Let’s go then,” the mercenary stated flatly.

Torplug had been sneering at the clogged congestion of humanity, and completely missed the conversation. “Yes,” was all he said, returning his focus to the road.

Temporarily satisfied, Zhy took his eyes off the seething mass of humanity and looked at the sun, or rather the filtered, dull, and lifeless version of it. There were many hours of smoky daylight left and enough to guide them to the next village with an inn. This adventure, after all, was supposed to get them away from the bustle of a large city and into the wilds of the north.

They made their way slowly through town. Each man slowly became frustrated and flustered as they were forced to make sudden stops: carts, children, and women darted across the wide street. Caravans would often brake all of a sudden, with no warning and no apparent reason. When at last the northern gate was in view, each breathed a sigh of relief, and the pace seemed to quicken until another caravan reared to a sudden stop. They had become so focused on leaving the city, that all thought to their needed supplies had vanished. After spending time in the wilderness, the crush of people had fouled the collective mood.

“Ach!” grumbled Qainur as he reined in his horse to avoid another caravan.

The companions grumbled their way through town and found their supplies waiting—thankfully. Zhy had expected the worst, but he was happy to leave; even happier when they passed through the northern gate and the pine forest stretched ahead of them.

Only to Vronga?
A voice wondered. No... he’d keep going. Though Qainur and Torplug were not the most congenial travelers, they were companions, real human beings. Not bottles or snifters. And he didn’t have to pay them.

But as the day waned, and darkening skies began to cast long shadows over everything, and the scene quickly changed from brightness to gloom. Zhy looked out at the far-reaching forest and shivered from the cold. Squirrels could be seen darting from branch to branch. And as he looked out—farther afield and farther up the trees—the spindly tops of the great birches looked like just so many beckoning fingers. They swayed in a slight breeze, and a few more leaves fluttered to the ground. Zhy saw only the fingers. Beckoning him. Calling him along. Into the great north, and into the very last days of his life.

Part II

Knots

In which we meet another citizen of Belden and see the world through his simple eyes. There are also demons and tunnels and men of mystery.

Chapter 6 — Bimb’s Tale

A simple man may have much to offer the world. His view is narrow and his experiences limited. But yet he may see the things we miss, he may hear voices we drown and may speak a simpler truth.

Prophet Azherin

M
y name is Bimb. B-i-m-b. Bimb. Fa is smart and likes words. He likes letters you can’t hear, he says, so he named me Bimb. Nobody says the last b. I don’t like the name. I can’t spell it. I can’t spell anything. Fa told me the letters so I could tell people. I make music and I like numbers. I don’t like my name. Fa likes it. Ma does not like it. She’s quiet and likes to knit by the fire. Ma cries a lot. I don’t know why. But Fa smiles at me, pats me on the back, and calls me Bimb. I love my Fa.

We live near the big town of Vronga, where all the people like to go. That’s what Fa says. “Anybody who is anybody goes through Vronga!” he will say. He gets mad that the city seems to get close to our farm. Says soon we will be in town. But we live in quiet now. We have a big field and Fa grows pumpkins and turnips there. I like turnips. And music.

Fa says winter will be here soon. We have pumpkins and turnips in the field, but Fa has already brought many inside or to Vronga. People buy his food. They like it and give him coin. He can buy Ma’s medicine, but she still cries.

I went to our turnip field. I counted the turnips left.
Seven, eight
...there was a rotten one.
Nine, ten
. I pulled a green weed. There were not many weeds. Fa said the cold nights killed the weeds. It is hard work to take out all the weeds. We did that all summer, me and Fa.

Suddenly a man was in front of me. I jumped backwards. Where had he come from? I looked around. All I saw was the turnips and pumpkins. And the big hill by the end of the pumpkin rows. There was a large rock stuck in the hill. Maybe he came out of the rock. How could a man come from the rock? Did he fly here? Can he fly?

“Is this your farm?” he asked me. He did not smile. He was shorter than Fa. He had a very large backpack on and I think it was going to tip him over. I thought about him falling on a pumpkin. There would be a mess of orange. We could toast the seeds. I love toasted pumpkin seeds. I laughed.

“I’m sorry, what is so funny?” his voice was bad and it scared me.

“You are very strong.”

He nodded, but his eyes were dark and mean. “Yes. And I am in a hurry. Please! Is your mother or father home?” His hands kept tickling themselves, and his head seemed to not want to stay still. Why was he bouncing so much? And I did not see where he had come from.

“Y-yes, Fa is by the fire. Ma is sleeping again.”

The strange man’s head bounced like a rabbit. Then he ran to the house. He did not say thank you. Maybe he did come from the rock. A rock person would be mean and not be nice.

It was colder. I went to the house. Fire sounded good. Maybe Fa could make his hot spicy drink, and we could all share. We had not had visitors in so long. Not since the man came to see Ma. Now she sleeps more.

When I took my coat off and went inside, Fa and the visitor were talking fast.

“But I need to get to the University now!” the strange man was saying.

Fa put up his arms. He was a big man. He was very nice to everyone. He once lifted a whole wagon cart off of a man. A whole cart! With the wheels on! And one time a bad man was on the road and Fa only looked at him. The bad man ran away. “Now, now young man, you have traveled countless miles and you are tired. You have never been to Vronga?”

“No.”

“Then you have no idea where you are going. Sit here and rest, and –”

“But I need—”

Fa sounded angry. “Let me finish! No, you rest here. Get some sleep. I will run to town and return the person you need. Who is it you are trying to contact?”

“A mage. A mage at the University. But, I cannot—”

“Yes, you can. You can trust me. I know why the city does not encroach on my land. I know that stone slab and where it leads. Ah! Do not worry, I am not one of them. I can be trusted to send the message and not to repeat it.”

For a long time the man did not speak. He lost his voice. Or he was scared. But who is scared of Fa? Fa said sometimes his eyes scared people. Like mine. His were blue-gray. He said they “pierced” but not like a sword. Fa never hurt anyone. He was big and strong and sometimes people were scared. Nobody should be afraid of Fa!

I thought the fire would go out. But he finally said something. “There are no more Protectors.” He said this very quietly. Fa may not have heard him, because he didn’t say anything either.

“Please…” the stranger said finally.

Fa made that noise in his throat. It meant he had decided something. “Aye. I will go. You rest. Hello, Bimb!” he smiled. I like his smile. He roughed up my hair and I smiled. “I have to run to town. This man has had a long journey and he needs to rest. See he gets what he needs. Spicy cider is on the stove.”

And he left.

The stranger looked at me funny. People look at me funny. It is probably my eyes. Ma says they are a “stunning blue”. Stunning means to stop someone. So people stop when they see my eyes. I smiled at him.

“Aye ... Bimb, is it?”

I nodded happily.

The stranger made a noise. It sounded like a dog. A mean dog. But we don’t have dogs. Not after Blackie died. “I see. Well, I need rest. You won’t mind if I sleep here?”

I shook my head. “And afterwards we can have the hot spicy drink. I like it. Fa makes it real good.”

He made that noise again,; then he lay down and slept. He snored loud.

I sat watching him for some time. He looked very tired. I know he had come a long way, but I don’t know from where. It was like he had flown in the air or run underground. It seemed strange to just be there. Nobody in the field. Then he was there. Now he snored loudly. I wanted the spicy drink, but he made funny faces when he slept.

Suddenly Fa came in. The stranger sat up. “For Sacuan’s sake!” he yelled. “You scared the living Light out of me!”

“I—”

“Never mind, never mind! What have you heard of the mage?”

Fa smiled. There was someone with him. An old man. He had white hair and a very large white beard. He looked silly. His robe was dirty. He smelled like an inn. His nose was ugly and bent. Like an old turnip. Ugly Nose.

“I found your mage,” Fa said.

I grabbed his arm. Mages scared me. They were old men and Ma said they could sink ships and kill children. Fa said they did good work. Ma said they were demons. I wanted the mage gone. He stood in our house, and I wanted him gone.

“Son, son, everything is alright. This man works for the Light.”

“That is true, young man. What is your name?”

He had a very ugly nose. I wanted him to leave. Now.

“Son…?”

“It’s…it’s alright, Bimb, this man is here to help us.”

Ugly noses never helped me. Mean, ugly, ugly noses. I went to the kitchen for the spicy drink. Fa or Ma won’t have any, so I will. Ugly nose must leave. Must leave!

But no, Fa kept talking to him.

“I’m sorry, he is—”

“Sacuan bless us all,” Ugly Nose said softly. “I understand.” How can a soft voice be hard like stone? “In any case, my dear Protector,” he talked to the stranger who made the funny noises, “what seems to be the problem?”

“I’ll tell you!” The man talked very fast. As fast as a grouse taking off. I drank the spicy drink. My head started to hurt. “Lost! Lost! The Temple is lost! I was bringing supplies from the woods and returned to screaming and loud noises. Someone screamed ‘Gozath’ or something, the Temple went dark, and the old man destroyed Gozath and then silence. I’m sure the old man did not survive the attack, he sent out some very colorful spells.”

“What colors?” Ugly Nose asked.

“Purple and green and white…I can’t remember.”

“Is anything left of the attacker?”

“No.”

“I see.”

It was quiet for a long time. Why was it so quiet? I peeked out, but Ugly Nose saw me and I looked away. I had to pee. But Ugly Nose kept talking. I had to go past him to go outside. I did not want to see him. I did not like him. He was scary. Mages were scary.