Bloodfire (The Sojourns of Rebirth) (33 page)

It sounded like a young girl, humming.
But how could he hear such a thing? He stared at the
crook in his hand, listening to the song and the singer, and a
memory came rising to the surface of his mind. A memory of his
father, describing the crook that had been in his family for three
generations, and had become the symbol of their importance, of
their rank, of their place as the chosen shepherds of men.
“My son, one day, when you are ready to lead our
Empire, you will hold this in your hands as a symbol to our
people that you shall keep them safe, and guide them towards
their destiny. Your grandfather was the first to wield this crook
as the symbol of our enormous sacrifice and of our eternal
vigilance as leaders of our flock, and then he in turn passed that
responsibility onto my shoulders. One day I will do the same for
you, and on that day, you will feel not just the weight of the metal
it was forged of, but of the heavy burden of responsibility which
it represents.
“Uriel, it has been said that long ago, this crook was but a
single part of an entire set, and the rulers of men in those days
used them to assert and retain their rightful places as intellectual
leaders, heads of state, or as generals of vast and powerful
armies. Our family has sought other pieces of that noble legacy,
for it is known that there is power within the metal. Power that
we no longer understand.
“You will feel it, when the time is right. This is our legacy,
and one day, you will claim it as your own.”
Uriel had, of course, ripped that legacy from his foolish
father’s hands. His father had the correct vision, but not the
stomach for what needed to be done to attain the grandeur of that
vision. That had been his downfall. He could still remember the
look of shock and sadness on his father’s face as he had watched
his life spill out onto the floor slowly, Uriel’s sword protruding
from the back of his father’s neck.
But his father had been right about the crook. As soon as
he had taken hold of it, it had changed him. In truth, he had
actually taken possession of it, or rather it had called out to him,
two sojourns before he had enacted the coup that had secured the
Empire in his name.
His father wore the thing ceremonially, but he just as often
hung the crook in an alcove in the Imperial Citadel, for everyone to
gaze upon the mark of his authority. As a boy, Uriel had taken to
sneaking out when he was supposed to be asleep, and taken the
crook from its holder, wielding it while fantasizing about
commanding an army of his own.
And upon seizing the weapon in his small hands, Uriel had
known what his father had tried to tell him. He could sense the
power in his hands, could feel it respond to him. It wasn’t magic,
like in the stories that his nursemaid had sometimes told him at
bedtime, of silly superstitions and mythical creatures. This was
real, and it filled him with something he had never felt before.
When Uriel had tried to describe it to Ortis, he had called it his
Will, for when he took hold of the crook, it felt as though it was
hearing his needs, and amplifying his own desire to rule. Ortis had
never understood, not truly, what that meant because even Uriel
couldn’t completely explain the power he felt when he held it in his
hands.
And now that one of the other artifacts had been found,
and the song which haunted him seemed to sing to him even
stronger when he held his own artifact, he concluded the obvious
possibility glaring at him. Could it be that the two of them were
linked somehow? It seemed improbable and illogical, and yet, how
else could he explain the evidence of his own senses?
A chill ran up and down his spine. He considered the
insanity of this idea, but then calmly, he realized what this had to
mean.
Ortis doesn’t have the artifact
, he thought.
Uriel ran to the entry of the room he stood in, and
slammed a fist into the wall as he called down to his officers.
“Return to me at once! We’re looking for the wrong
person!”

Ortis had eliminated three of the potential men and
women from his list of vendors who had both the means and the
opportunity to broker a sale the magnitude of something like the
artifact. He hadn’t actually eliminated them, as he would likely
have done prior to encountering his thief, but simply crossed them
off of his list. Something in him could no longer go there, could no
longer treat people as things to be discarded once they had served
their purpose. This was just one of many things that Ortis could no
longer reconcile.

He reasoned that he was already damned many times over
for his crimes, and he wished to no longer add to that tally, despite
a distant part of his persona which tried to convince him that it no
longer mattered. But he swore that this part of him would never
rule his mind again.

He didn’t know how he could know such a thing, only
having glimpsed her briefly, but he had come to believe that his
thief would not approve of such action, either. He felt it in his
bones, in much the same way that he had felt exactly the opposite
with Uriel.

He didn’t try to understand it. He simply accepted it.
The next name on his list was a woman named Silena. She
operated a stall in the central marketplace, selling various
antiquities and relics of the past. The Empire reportedly often
bought from her, and so he would need to be careful in how he
approached her, as she was likely at least somewhat sympathetic to
the Imperial cause and might very well be one of their many eyes
and ears. He doubted that she would recognize him immediately
through his disguise, but if he asked the wrong questions or gave
away too much, she might be able to determine who he was and
that he was now wanted by the Emperor himself.
He watched her from afar for a while, sizing her up. She
was older, with pale skin and a short, stocky build. She wore a
faded red kerchief over her bald head, the color just bold enough
to be questionable, and standard grey and beige long skirt and a
shawl draped around her shoulders. She was an eccentric one, he
could tell. She moved around her stall, talking to herself
animatedly while customers pawed at her merchandise in silence,
likely trying to make a convincing enough sales pitch to make an
item or two disappear before midday.
One thing stuck Ortis immediately, even at a distance. The
woman was happy. Genuinely, unbelievably, happy. Such a feeling
stuck out to him, like a raging fire in the dark of night. He didn’t
quite know why, but Ortis began to feel that his search was over.

Catelyn scouted the central marketplace with her bubble.
It was just before midday, and the market stalls were moderately
crowded with people from all over the Seat, buying and selling
basic necessities. The smells of various food vendors mingled in
her nostrils, some causing her mouth to water, others making her
wonder what exactly the cook was trying to sell. Nothing seemed
out of the ordinary, and although she sensed some Imperial
soldiers wandering among the crowd, they didn’t seem to be doing
anything other than loitering, engaged in conversations of their
own and probably keeping an eye open for pickpockets and thieves
looking to steal from one of the vendors.

She could sense Silena where she always was in the
marketplace, in the northwest corner of the central plaza, and the
sound of her voice as she talked to the handful of potential buyers
at her stall filled Catelyn’s heart with satisfaction. She realized in
that moment just how much she’d missed hearing the woman’s
friendly voice.

She was halfway to Silena’s stall when her feet were
stopped by something plucking at the edges of her bubble. She
froze, expanding it to all sides and trying to determine what it was
that had caused her to instinctively stop short. She searched the
people around her, but nothing seemed unusual. Her heart was
thumping hard in her chest, though. Something had sent her an
unconscious warning, but she could not determine its source. After
a few breaths of thorough scanning with her senses, and calming
herself, she resumed walking over to Silena’s stall, but kept her
bubble trained around her in case something else triggered
another warning.

Silena recognized her when she was still paces away, and
she could sense the woman’s energy and her mood change
immediately. She didn’t let on that she had spotted Catelyn, or call
out to her, but instead continued talking to herself, advertising the
various wares she was hoping to sell. Catelyn, however, could
smell her intense satisfaction as she approached the stall.

Ortis watched, breathless, as a figure stepped into view
while he continued to watch the merchant Silena’s stall. The new
figure was wearing light grey shirt and pants and small, wrapped
in a scarf that covered over most of their head, including their eyes
and mouth, and was carrying a dirty and ragged pack stuffed to the
breaking point. The market was busy at this time of day, and a
number of other market buyers and stalls obscured his view
enough to be unable to tell if the newcomer was male or female, or
if they were wearing shoes or not, and Ortis almost felt himself
overwhelmed with panic as he tried to reposition himself to get a
better look at this stranger.

The person froze in their tracks, and he did as well, putting
a tall clothing stall between them and using it to peer around the
edge of the wooden enclosure. They turned their head back and
forth, tilting it slightly as though listening for something. Then,
they seemed to have determined that they were safe, and
proceeded to walk again towards the stall where the woman Silena
was hawking her merchandise.

Ortis watched as Silena recognized the new arrival, and
saw the woman become instantly more enthused about this new
visitor. She had been happy before, but now the woman in the stall
was downright excited and Ortis felt his own excitement building.

He crept forward slowly, towards the stall where Silena
and the new customer were, always keeping a stall between
himself and the two of them. The moment he had been searching
for was almost upon him, he was sure of it. His heart hammered in
his chest, and he began to think about what he wanted, what he
would say, what he would do. He didn’t know, and he didn’t care.
All he felt was the overwhelming desire to see his thief again. He
tried to prepare himself for the disappointment if he was wrong,
but something in him told him that he had never been more right
about anything in his life.

Silena had been about ready to throw in the towel and
pack it in for the day, when suddenly the midday lunch rush had
come in, and she’d made two sales in seemingly as many breaths.
Just a few more and she would be able to pack up early and get
home to help Erich take care of the girls, and that development
had put her in a particularly good mood.

She had been feeling quite good about this new
turnaround in her day, and then as she bent across her stall to
adjust one of the items at the front of her featured wares, she
spotted a very familiar pair of dusty bare feet, making their way
lightly towards her stall. She raised her gaze, following the feet up
to the small frame and unmistakable head scarf of her friend,
Catelyn.

Silena felt her heart swell in joy to recognize the girl, but
she was better served to save her feelings for later, when the two of
them could meet more privately. And so she simply went right
back to selling to the handful of potential buyers at her stall, but
she knew that her voice and her demeanor would be obvious to
anyone around her. She realized that she didn’t particularly care,
and she watched with great excitement as Catelyn strode right up
to her stall, the girl pulled her head scarf down to reveal her nose
and mouth and said “Hello, Silena”.

Silena reached out, clasped Catelyn’s hand in hers and
forgot all about her work in that single, joyous moment of human
contact. Her friend had returned.

Catelyn felt Silena’s warm, rough and weathered hands
and her heart swelled up in her chest. She felt like crying, like
reaching out to embrace this woman who had shared herself so
honestly with Catelyn. It had been so long since she had been held,
and she had to fight the impulse to fulfill that urge.

The two women spent a moment in silence. Silena, to her
credit, asked no questions, allowing Catelyn her space. Catelyn
however, had dozens of questions, and she started with the most
important.

Catelyn didn’t specify more than that, on the off chance
that some other ears were listening, but she didn’t need to be more
specific than that, as she knew Silena would not need to guess
what she meant.

“They’re fine. A little ill, but nothing out of the ordinary.
They’re well cared for.”
Catelyn felt that she needed to explain herself, and began
to try to come up with a simple enough reason, but all she could
manage to say was “I’m...sorry I had to leave them with you so
abruptly...I just had to…”
Silena raised a finger and tsked at her.
“No, I don’t want to hear it. You did this old woman a
favor. You’ve made me happy in a way I don’t think you could
understand. Not yet. Maybe, if you ever had children of your
own…” Silena’s voice croaked and she took a moment to collect
herself, then continued.
“Everyone in the Seat knows what happened that night. I
know what you did for them. They both do too.”
Catelyn felt her own emotions welling up at the thought of
the girls, and the potential of seeing them again. She still wasn’t
sure what she wanted to do in the long-term, but at least for the
moment, she thought that she really would love nothing more than
to see them again.
Before she had the opportunity to ask about that, her
senses once more sent her a warning, like a spider whose web was
being plucked by the presence of new prey. She pulsed her bubble
and turned around, listening, smelling, sensing. There was
something...familiar.
And as she trained her bubble on the spot where her
senses had detected the strange but familiar presence, her heart
leapt into her throat and she felt like grabbing Silena and running.
She had sensed this before. The night of the Purge, when
she had detected the strange Imperial officer watching her from
behind the estate’s bars. He was here, standing three paces away,
and looking directly at her.