Souls of Aredyrah 2 - The Search for the Unnamed One (2 page)

The old woman cackled. “Who would find your
precious answers then? You? Or perhaps this pretty boy-thing of
yours?” She moved toward the table and shuffled her hands through a
pile of parchments, stacking some into piles, rolling others into
scrolls.

“Watch your words,” the Priestess warned.

“Or what?” Tenzy retorted. “There is nothing
more you can do to me, and there is little more I can do for you.
You asked me to find evidence of the Prophecy, and I have found
none. As I told you before, there is no longer any trace of it.
Your Red King of old saw that no record survived, certainly none
written by the hand of those of us you call Jecta. What more would
you have me do?”

“I would have you look at this,” the
Priestess said, pulling a tome from the bag at her shoulder. She
tossed it onto the table.

A startled gasp escaped the old woman’s
throat. She ran her fingers over the cracked leather cover of the
book, her eyes drinking in the symbols tooled into the grain.

“So you recognize it,” the Priestess
said.

“Aye, that I do,” the old woman
whispered.

“Then you should have no trouble translating
it from its abominable language into one I can understand.”

“This is an ancient book…written in an
ancient language. My memory fails me these days. I may not be able
to—”

“Do not play games with me,” the Priestess
snapped. “You will interpret it, and you have three days time in
which to do it. If I do not have satisfaction from you by then, I
shall seal your books up and you with them.”

“Just as well,” Tenzy said. “I have grown
weary of this existence.”

“Perhaps you would feel differently if
another was sealed up with you. Test me one more time and the pages
of your precious books will forever bear the stench of you and your
kin’s rotting flesh.”

“My kin are all dead,” Tenzy said.

“So you say,” the Priestess replied. She
turned and walked toward the door. “Perhaps a crooked child would
sway you.”

Tenzy stiffened. “I will do what I can.”

“Three days, no more,” the Priestess said,
and with that she swept out, ordering Whyn to follow.

BACK TO ToC

Chapter 2: Patience, Prince

T
he Shell Seekers
were gathered on the south side of the hill, their encampment of
brightly-colored tents barely hidden from the towering stone walls
of Tearia on the other side of it. As tents were raised, sundries
unpacked, and wares prepared for Market, small parties began to
make their way from the camp toward the selling grounds beyond.
Market was held but two days out of the month, and was the only
time the Jecta were allowed to sell their goods near the city. It
was a profitable event, especially for the Shell Seekers. The elite
citizens of Tearia were always eager to trade coin for the spoils
of the sea, a place no sensible person dared enter. But even though
the Shell Seeker wares were highly coveted, the Shell Seekers
themselves were still considered Jecta.

Reiv paced back and forth by the cart that
contained his group’s supplies. It was a transporter made of wood
and bamboo poles, pulled by the labor of man, not horse, and laden
with every imaginable craft and sundry. It had taken hours to pack
it for the journey to Market. Now it seemed to be taking even
longer to unpack it.

“Gods, let us get
on
with it,” Reiv
grumbled.

“Patience, prince,” Jensa said. “We have a
system, and you had best learn to follow it or it will take us
longer still.” She eased her pale eyes in his direction, her brows
raised in open amusement.

“I have asked you not to call me that,” Reiv
said. “You know I am prince no longer. I am Shell Seeker now.”

Torin, Jensa’s older brother, smirked. “You
will never be one of us,” he said. “Your skin is too delicate.”

Reiv curled his lip as he envisioned his
burn-scarred fist crashing through Torin’s perfect teeth. But he
knew his damaged hands didn’t have the strength to stun Torin, much
less knock out a tooth.

Reiv was new to the Shell Seekers’ ways, but
was determined to fit in. Torin, however, would have nothing of it;
he hated the thought of residing with a Tearian, and made certain
that everyone knew it. It had been only weeks since Reiv had moved
in with them, invited by Jensa when he left Pobu to make a new life
for himself. But while Torin resented Reiv’s heritage, and

Jensa patiently tolerated it, their little
brother Kerrik thought having a prince under their roof the
greatest thing in the world.

“You two are so mean to each other,” Kerrik
said as he rounded the cart and stood before them. “That’s not how
families are supposed to act.”

“Family—ha!” Torin scoffed. “Since when is
he—“

“Let’s put our differences aside today, shall
we?” Jensa said. “You and Reiv will not have to look at each other
for two days. I, for one, will welcome the respite from your
constant bickering.”

“I don’t see why Reiv can’t work Market with
us,” Kerrik said. “I’ll see that he stays out of trouble.”

“I told you,” Jensa said. “Reiv is going to
Pobu to spend some time with Dayn and Alicine.”

“Oooh, Alicine.” Kerrik grinned. “That’s who
Reiv
really
wants to see.”

“Silence for once,” Torin said, stooping to
work a knot on a strap that straddled the mound of supplies on the
cart. “Now help me get these ropes untied.”

“Oh, you never let me say anything,” Kerrik
grumbled. He marched back to the cart, his twisted right foot
kicking up the sand.

“You may say anything of significance,” Torin
said. “Reiv’s personal life does not fall into that category.”

“How about your personal life,” Kerrik said.
“Are you going to see Mya?”

“Of course I’m going to see her. Her husband
recently passed. I must offer my condolences.”

“But you always saw her before, even when
Eben wasn’t dead. I thought—“

“Enough, Kerrik,” Torin ordered.

Reiv chortled. “So Torin does like girls
after all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Torin rose
from his stooped position by the cart.

“Well,” Reiv said, “it seems to me that a man
as handsome as you—well, handsome to the girls anyway—would show a
little more interest in them. I had begun to think your attentions
turned in the other direction. I had even thought to sleep with one
eye open, just in case.”

Torin puffed up immediately and stormed in
Reiv’s direction. Jensa leapt between them, easily stopping the
older and much stronger Torin in his tracks.

“Enough of this!” she said. “You both have
work to do. Now get on with it.”

Torin clenched his jaw while Reiv grinned a
grin of supreme satisfaction. His comment had clearly touched a
nerve in the man’s tough hide.

After some time, an eternity in Reiv’s eyes,
the tent was unloaded and raised, sundries pulled out and stored,
and the remaining supplies secured to the cart for the trip to the
selling grounds a short distance away. Though the Jecta were
allowed to sell their wares there, camping near the walls was
strictly forbidden. Tearian Guards were assigned to patrol the
grounds at night, and for that reason valuable merchandise was
never displayed until morning.

“Are we finished or not?” Reiv asked, tapping
his foot with impatience.

“Yes…yes,” Jensa said. Then she ducked into
the tent.

Reiv followed. “You said you would take me to
Pobu as soon as we were unpacked. We are unpacked.”

Jensa shuffled through a crate, pulling out
bits of deadwood and two flints. “Pile these outside the tent,” she
said, handing him the wood. “And get a fire going. I need to start
us a meal.”

“A meal?” Reiv cried. “But you said—“

“I said I would get you to Pobu as soon as
things were settled here. We have not eaten in hours. Shall I send
Torin to unload without my help
and
with an empty
belly?”

“I would not care,” Reiv said.

“Well, I would,” Jensa replied. “Besides, I’m
hungry and you are, too, whether you admit it or not.”

Kerrik bounded into the tent. “I’m starving.
It was high sun
hours
ago.” He rummaged through a sack and
pulled out a chunk of palm nut.

“Just one, Kerrik,” Jensa said. “And it
wasn’t hours ago.”

Kerrik thrust the bag toward Reiv. “Want
one?” he asked.

“No. I am sick of those things.”

“You used to like them,” Kerrik said. He
tossed the bag back where he found it, munching on the nut.

Reiv trudged out of the tent and threw the
wood to the ground, then started the fire with a bit of dry grass
and the flints. Jensa joined him shortly thereafter, holding four
skewers with limp, silvery fish impaled on them. She handed one to
Reiv and the other to Kerrik, while she held the remaining two over
the flames. The fish were not big; the largest were to be sold at
Market, though only for a pittance. Tearian law limited how much
profit they could make. The vast waters belonged to the royal
family, and it was only by their grace that the Shell Seekers were
allowed to sell the spoils of the sea at all.

Torin walked up and grabbed one of the
skewers from Jensa. He held it over the flames for a moment more,
then plopped onto the ground and pulled out a small knife. Slicing
the fish down the middle, he picked out its entrails and began to
eat.

“That is practically raw,” Jensa scolded. “Do
you want to get worms?”

“I have things to do in case you haven’t
noticed,” Torin said. “We arrived later than we should have. Most
of the others have already set up, and we won’t likely get a good
spot if we dawdle here. Besides, I’m not going to have the help I
usually do, thanks to him.” He shot Reiv a look, then continued
tearing into the fish.

But Reiv refused the bait; arguing with Torin
would only prolong his departure for Pobu, and it was already
taking long enough. He pulled his fish off the flames and sat
cross-legged in the sand as he used his thumb to split the
fish.

“You, too?” Jensa shook her head. “I see I
will have two bellies to medicate.”

“Tearians eat raw fish all the time,” Reiv
said. “It is considered a delicacy.”

“Hmmph,” she said. “The only thing delicate
about it is the feeling in the gut that follows.”

Reiv rolled his eyes and dug his teeth into
the fish, chewing quickly and swallowing it down in gulps. He
tossed the remains onto the fire and started to wipe his greasy
hands down his tunic. But then he thought better of it. He had
worked too hard to make himself look presentable that morning. He
raked his hands through the sand, then rose and folded his arms
across his chest. “So, are we ready to go then?”

“Do you mind if I finish mine first?” Jensa
asked with annoyance.

Reiv sighed.

“You might as well grab some palm nut while
you’re waiting,” she said. “That fish won’t hold you for long.”

“She’s right, you know,” Torin said. “You’re
going to need all the strength you can muster when you face Alicine
today.” He laughed.

“You find that amusing, do you?” Reiv said.
“Well I think I can handle one girl, and a rather small one at
that.”

“You didn’t do such a good job of handling
her before,” Kerrik piped in.

“What do you know about it?” Reiv asked.

“I know you ran away because of her.”

“I did no such thing!”

“Oh yes you did,” Torin interjected.
“Hopefully when you run away from her this time, you’ll run in the
opposite direction of Meirla.”

“Gods…enough!” Jensa said, rising. “Come
Reiv. I can stand no more of this. Let us get you to Pobu before I
am forced to kill the both of you.”

Reiv nodded and turned to leave, but Kerrik
called for him to stop. Reiv complied grudgingly. “What is it?” he
said.

“Do you have the bracelet for Alicine?”
Kerrik asked.

“Yes, in my money pouch.”

“And some coin in case you want to buy her
something?”

“Yes, yes.”

“You’d better let me check your kohl,” Kerrik
said.

Reiv heaved a sigh and leaned down to give
Kerrik a closer look at the black design painted around his
eyes.

“Looks good,” Kerrik said. “Your hair, too.
Those cockles look really nice wound in your red hair like that. I
don’t know about the tunic, though. It doesn’t look like something
a Shell Seeker would wear. But the necklaces make up for it I
guess.”

“Thank you. May I go now?”

“I’m only trying to help,” Kerrik said. “You
do want to get her back, don’t you?”

“Since when is a seven-year-old an expert on
women?”

“Since I started paying attention.”

BACK TO ToC

Chapter 3: Painted Faces

T
he Jecta city of
Pobu was a dismal-looking place from a distance, its brown
buildings huddled against an even browner countryside. The
population that lived there didn’t have the luxury of spending
their hard-earned coin on adornment. They were barely able to put
food in their mouths much less color into their lives.

Pobu was only a short distance east of the
Shell Seeker encampment, not a far walk, but Jensa insisted she
escort Reiv there nonetheless. There were too many disgruntled
Jecta who resented his past life as a prince. Strangely enough,
Torin had agreed, and he rarely showed any interest in Reiv’s well
being.

Reiv and Jensa reached the courtyard past the
main entrance to the city and headed though an alley that led them
to a side street. They saw few residents; most had already gone to
the Market grounds to make preparations for the following day.
Although the Shell Seekers were always the most popular vendors,
the Tearian patrons were still willing to pick through Jecta wares
looking for a bargain. Tearians were far too lazy to create their
own crafts. They despised the Jecta, but didn’t mind paying a bit
of coin for a particularly nice piece of pottery or a trinket or
two.