Bound in Darkness (13 page)

“So what songs were you looking for?”

“Actually…local songs. Songs indigenous to this area. To the Black Continent in general as well. Songs about objects. Special objects imbued with special powers. Forged by the gods.”

Gia let out a raspy, gurgling cross between a laugh and a cough. “So that's it! Treasure hunters! You think you're going to find some kind of magical item to make you rich and powerful. Those are just tales, boy. No such real thing.” But as she said this she was giving him a sly sort of look.

“Not treasure hunters. Not really. But power, yes. And I know for a fact that those objects can be real.”

“How do you know this?” Again that sly look.

“I've found them.”

With that Maxum reached into a pouch at his belt and withdrew the dragon's ring. He held it up and it glinted in the sunlight. “Asharim's Ring.”

Gia scoffed with a snort. But she was eyeing the ring carefully. “Says who?”

“What do the songs say Asharim's Ring does?”

“Let's see…” She made as if she were accessing an old memory, but it was clear to Airi she already knew. “Something about making Asharim invisible to his enemies' eyes.”

“To all eyes,” Maxum corrected. Then he slipped the ring on and disappeared from sight.

If Gia was shocked she didn't betray the emotion. Instead she poked at him with her cane, as if testing if he was still there, then waited for him to remove the ring again. Maxum did so and immediately came back into sight.

“So. You found the ring. One ring doesn't mean there's other treasures to be found.”

“That's my worry. I just want you to tell me some of the songs you know. Someone like you may know some songs from back when I was a boy. Unfortunately I no longer remember the details, I never did pay attention. A fact I regret.”

“When you were a boy? That wasn't that long ago. Do you know how old I am? I'm 103 full turnings old. And still got most of my teeth.” She snapped her teeth together in demonstration. Airi could easily imagine the old woman taking a bite out of some hapless person. “What about you, girl? You a treasure hunter too?”

“Right now I'm just following him.”

“Eh. Fucking him are you?”

“I am not fucking him!” Airi gasped with shock and affront.

“Yeah but you will be. You look good together. It's probably only a matter of time.”

“I won't be fucking him,” Airi said firmly—more for her benefit than for the old woman's.

“We'll see,” Maxum said, chuckling when she punched him in the arm. Hard. He didn't even flinch. Damn that talisman. She was going to steal the thing from around his neck and then punch him right in the eye!

“That's the way of it, eh? Well give in, girl! Give him the goods! You only live once, I say. Wish I'd done more fucking. Not much to fuck in a temple full of women. Anyway we're meant to be chaste here in Kitari's temple. But I wasn't always at a temple in the middle of a big city. Yes, do your fucking while you still can, girl.”

“I really don't want to talk about this anymore,” Airi said sullenly. Maxum chuckled and she punched him again. It didn't hurt him, but it still felt good.

“Eh, the young are so stupid. Idiots. I was an idiot when I was young. Don't take it too hard. So…songs. I got dozens of them.”

“Do you know the one about the four brothers and the fountain of immortality?”

“Ah yes!”

“Any one but that one. And I don't need ones about Asharim's Ring obviously. Or Filo's Talisman. Other than that, I'm open to any that have a magical item in them.”

“Hmm…interesting,” she said narrowing her eyes on him. Then she sat back, rocked a little, and cleared her throat. “You want local? How about the ‘Tale of Isa'?”

“Isa? I haven't heard of Isa before.”

“Ah, then sit back. This is a good one.”

M
any ages ago there was a young maiden named Isa. She was just coming into her first blush, about her thirteenth full turning. She was the daughter of a miller and was made to walk the mule to turn the grindstone all day. She would walk when the rain made the ground slick and muddy. She would walk when the sun beat down on her. She had to walk through the mule's droppings and often smelled of horse dung.

Because of this the other young people of the village would make fun of Isa, making up chants about how she smelled bad. So Isa would go to the stream every day and wash the smell from her body and her clothes, but to no avail. The young people still teased her.

Isa despaired over this because she was of age now to begin to think of finding a husband. But who would want a girl who smells of mule droppings as a wife? The only way was to tell her father she would no longer walk the mule. But when she dared to tell her father this he beat her until she was black and blue all over.

“Until you can make me a rich man, you will walk that mule until you drop from exhaustion!” he said.

Then he sent her out to walk the mule around the grindstone.

That night, in the cover of darkness, Isa thought to escape her father's house. She was terrified he might catch her if she ran away. He would never stop looking for her since she was free labor and because she was passably pretty she might marry into a wealthier family than theirs was and keep him in comfort in his old years. Isa's father, you see, was not very bright. He was a selfish man who only thought of himself.

But Isa didn't see how she had much of a choice, so she left her father's mill that night with nothing but a few slices of bread, two silver coins she had saved up, and the clothes on her back.

Isa ran through the woods, avoiding all of the roads, knowing her father would be looking for her there the minute he realized she was gone. She followed the stream so she wouldn't get lost or turned in circles.

After a time Isa stopped to rest and eat one of her slices of bread. As she sat to do so an old woman came out of the trees and sat beside her on the grass.

“Well, child,” the old woman said. “Have you a slice of bread for an old woman?”

Isa didn't know what to do. She only had two slices of bread and two silver and she would need that bread to eat later on when she got hungry. But as she looked at the poor old woman she could tell that she was very hungry so she gave up her slice of bread to the old woman.

“Thank you, child! That was the best bread I've ever had!” the old woman said when she was done. “But the best foods are those we eat when we are most hungry.”

Then the old woman got up and walked away.

“I must get going,” said Isa and she stood up and ran along the stream for a long while. The day ended, but Isa did not stop, wanting to put many miles between her and her father. She didn't know what she would do, but she knew she couldn't go back unless she had enough money to make her father rich enough to let her live her life free of the drudgery of milling. And, despite all his bad character, he was still her father and she loved him and was loyal to him.

“I must make my own way in the world and one day return to him and take proper care of him.”

As she traveled on she began to grow hungry and should have regretted giving away her other slice of bread, but it had made the old woman so happy that she could not feel too badly about it. Instead, when it grew light enough to see, she found some berry bushes and used her small purse to hold as many berries as it could then sat down beside the river to enjoy them. Just as she was about to eat a young child appeared. The child was a thin little waif with dirty clothes and a smudge on his cheek.

“May I have some of your berries?” he asked in his most polite tone.

Isa could tell the boy was very hungry, so she beckoned him over and shared her small pouchful of berries with the boy. There was barely enough to appease her hunger, but it was sufficient.

“Thank you!” said the boy and he waved to her as he ran off.

With a sigh Isa began to walk along again. Before long she came to a road. There in the middle of the road was a man with a cart with a broken wheel. He looked so sad as he sat there looking at his broken wheel.

“I have broken my wheel,” the man said. “There is a town ahead, but it will cost two silver to get it fixed and I only have one. Now my family will starve if I don't make my deliveries. Could you go into the town and ask the wheel maker to fix my wheel for one silver? Maybe he will change his price for a pretty girl.”

Isa agreed and took the broken wheel. It was heavy and dirty and smelled of horse dung and Isa thought,
Here I am back where I started! Smelling of manure!

She found the town and the wheel maker, but when she asked if he would lower his price he laughed in her face.

“Bah! If I lower it for you then everyone will want the same deal!”

So Isa thought of the man and his starving family and put one of her silvers in with the one the man had given her. The wheel maker was satisfied and fixed the wheel. Isa then rolled it all the way back to the man in the road. The man thanked her profusely and offered her a piece of bread from his lunch.

Well, at least I'm not hungry anymore,
Isa thought. Then Isa went back to the town and bought some meager supplies with what money she had left. It was about enough to last her a week…and only if she didn't give any of it away!

Isa walked on, once again leaving the road, afraid her father was looking for her. Now she had to figure out how to make her fortune when she was dirty and smelling like a horse! She went back to the stream and washed up as best she could. When she came out of the stream to get her clothing she found a handsome young man there, dressed in expensive garb, with laughing eyes.

Naked and embarrassed, Isa went to fetch her clothes, but he snatched them away from her.

“Give those back!” Isa cried.

“These dirty, smelly old things? You are better off without them!” Then he got up on his horse and rode away, taking her clothes and all her supplies with him.

Isa sat down in the grass and wept. She should never have come away from her father's place. Here it was barely two days and she was naked, penniless, and alone in the woods.

With no other choice, Isa stood up and began to walk. Maybe she could find someone to help her somewhere.

As it happened, Isa came out of the main body of the woods and into a glade. There in the center of the glade was a temple to the goddess Meru, the goddess of the hearth, of home, and of harvests. Goddess of women and wives.

Isa stumbled inside, hoping to find a generous mem who could help her, if only to clothe her, but the temple was empty. So she did the only thing she could think of to do. She knelt before the altar of the goddess and began to pray for guidance and support of some kind. Perhaps if she prayed she would clear her mind and be able to think on what next to do.

As she prayed a woman entered the temple. Isa had been praying so intently she had not seen where the woman had come from. But she was the most beautiful woman Isa had ever seen and she had a kind smile. She sat beside Isa and gently took her head in her lap and began to stroke her cheek.

“There now, child. It will be all right.”

The woman was so kind and reassuring that Isa immediately felt better. She sat up and regarded the beautiful woman.

“Are you a mem here?” Isa asked the woman.

“Do I look like a mem?” she asked with a laugh.

It was true that she had the full bodied curves of a mem of Meru, but she was not wearing the wheat skirts the mems of Meru wore. The woman wore a fine gown of jilu silk and a garland of wildflowers within her long, tresses.

That was when Isa realized who the woman was. She glanced up at the statue of Meru that she had been praying at and saw her depicted there with a garland of wildflowers in her hair.

“Yes, child, I am Meru,” the goddess informed her, her green eyes shining as richly as the greenest grass, her hair the color of ripe wheat. “And I was the old woman by the river. And the hungry child. And the man with the broken wheel. Again and again I tested you and again and again you impressed me with your generosity of spirit.”

“Were you the man who took my clothes away?”

“No. I would never do anything to humiliate you. But that young man will be made to pay for his actions.”

“Oh! Do not be cruel to him! It was only a joke. I am sure he meant to return the clothes.”

Meru's eyes lit with pride. “Again you show generosity, even toward those who wrong you. Some may call that weak, but I say it is a true test of strength. It is easy to be kind to those who are kind to us. It is much more difficult to be kind to those who are cruel to us. That young man was very cruel and he must be made to pay for his actions.

“Isa, I will reward you for your kindnesses to me.”

Meru then touched her shoulder and a gown of the finest jilu silk flowed against her skin, warming her with its soft thickness.

“Oh, thank you! This is a most generous reward!”

Meru laughed. “This is not your reward, child! I simply didn't want you to catch your death of cold. Here is your reward.” She rubbed her hands together with a flourish and suddenly a dagger appeared in her palms. It was encrusted with flawless rubies and made of gold. It was easily worth a fortune.

“This is the Dagger of Truths. Whoever wields it cannot be lied to and cannot be cheated. From now on all of your transactions in life will be honest ones. This is a very powerful weapon. If used to break the skin of another person all the weight of his or her lies will be brought to bear against them like a harvest. And believe me when I tell you that such a harvest comes with a crippling amount of pain.”

“But…whatever will I do with this? It is too much power for one woman to hold.”

“It is the right amount of power for a woman with a good soul to bear. And when you die this dagger will return to this temple and await the next worthy person to wield it. Now go, go forth in the world and deal honestly with others. But before you go…that boy who stole your clothes. Go to him and demand he repay you in some way for your pain and humiliation. He has great wealth and the dagger will see to it he deals honestly with you.”

“Where will I find him?”

Meru stood up and guided her to the entrance of the temple. There stood a white stag, its great rack of horns beautiful and tremendous.

“The stag will lead you.”

With that, Meru gave her a gentle touch on the cheek and disappeared. Isa didn't have time to absorb all she had experienced for the stag was already walking away from her. Picking up the train of her gown, she hastened after it. The stag led her to a road which led her to a great house just outside of a town. The stag stood on the doorstep briefly then bounded away into the woods. Isa knocked on the door and sure enough, the young man who had wronged her stood in the doorway. At first he did not recognize her, but then she said, “Do you remember me? By the river we met.”

The young man's eyes widened and he took in her beautiful gown which easily cost the same as his own clothing had.

“My lady! I am sorry…I mistook you for a serf's daughter! I would never have—”

“So if I were a serf's daughter it would make it all right, what you have done to me?”

The young man blushed and had to answer honestly, for she held the Dagger of Truths.

“No, my lady. It would not have been right.”

“You will make it up to me. You will pay me in gold for my trouble.” Isa did not know where this confidence was coming from, but she was glad of it.

“I will. Perhaps two…no twenty…no one hundred gold coins?” the young man said, struggling for the lowest price but unable to do anything but deal fairly with her. Apparently the dagger had a good idea as to what would be fair on her behalf.

“That will suit me well.”