Into Eden: Pangaea - Book 1 (12 page)

“Yes. But they were lions.”

“Lions are no more than just big cats. I can’t say how the twin gods Castor and Pollex found themselves in those beasts, but as murderous as they are they probably thought that they had just won a million denari.”

Jesse was quiet for a moment, trying to assimilate all that he had been told.

“Soooo…” Jesse began, “if a giant fathers a child by a human mother, the result is just a really tall guy such as me.”

“Correct.”

“But what happens if an an-nef mates with a full-blooded animal such as a lion or a jackal? Has that every happened?”

“Unfortunately, yes. But fortunately even the an-nef view mating with ‘strange flesh’ an abomination and Eden’s laws prescribe death for any an-nef that practices it. Just the same, it has happened. The results were monstrosities that even the an-nef can’t control. These three-quarter animals have the intelligence of humans, but the animal instincts of the furry side of their family. When this happens they usually live alone—and you don’t want to meet one. If you think Castor-Pollex is bad news, I’m told that they are all instinctive killers that cannot be domesticated. It’s like a wolf and an Atlantan Shepherd. They both look very similar. You can pet the dog and even be friends with it. But you try the same thing with a wolf and you’d better hope that he’s not hungry. Otherwise you’ll lose your hand.”

“Wow,” was all that Jesse could say. “No wonder that dad wasn’t into genealogy.”

“Yes, Jesse, I’m afraid that you won’t have to look very long in our family tree to find some really rotten apples.”

“Okay Enoch. Here another one for you. You live inside a dog. What’s his name? Big nose?”

“Long Nose.”

“Ah, yes: Long Nose. I’ve seen you chase rabbits and squirrels and acting like a dog in every way. Does that mean that you’re attracted to female dogs as well?”

“All depends.”

“Depends?”

“Yeah. If she’s got silky fur and a nice personality.”

“That’s really sick.”

“It’s a sick world we live in, Jesse.”

With that Enoch stretched out by the fire and started to snore. Jesse lay down beside him and did the same.

Chapter 7
Whitehurst

Thirty miles is a lot of ground to cover in one day. A horse can do it easily, but for a man on foot, with a wounded side, wounded arms, and now a mauled chest (not to mention a real bad case of sunburn) thirty miles seems like forever. To attempt it in that condition, a man has to be driven, and Jesse was a driven man. He was driven by hatred for the an-nef who had murdered his father and brother, and driven by a desire to sleep in a clean bed and eat food prepared by someone else. Food that he didn’t have to skin and gut before he cooked it. Yet even then, every step between Pecan Grove and Whitehurst seemed like an agonizing effort. That is why, around two or three bells in the afternoon Jesse decided that he’d have to stop for the day. His hatred and his desire for comforts finally succumbed to the necessity to get some rest. Enoch was getting worried about him, too. He was afraid that Jesse was pushing himself too hard, so he was relieved when Jesse sat down under the shade of a willow on the riverbank and declared that the day’s march was over. One thing that was encouraging, though, during the previous night they had heard no lion roaring from across the river. Perhaps Castor-Pollex had given up, Jesse thought. Perhaps he had turned back at Pecan Grove and was once again prowling the Southern Highway north of here for other, unfortunate travelers.

The next day Jesse seemed much improved in his attitude and health. For the second night they had heard nothing from Castor-Pollex, and that had to be a good sign. He even joked with Enoch from time to time as they walked along. By mid-morning they saw for the first time signs of human habitation since passing Pecan Grove. A boy was tending sheep on
their
side of the river. That could mean but one thing: there was a bridge somewhere up ahead, perhaps the bridge at Whitehurst itself. Within an hour after spotting the boy they came across the first farm on their side of the river, and could spot others on the other side. At this point they were again walking on a dirt road, which made traveling much easier. By noon they could see the city of Whitehurst on the horizon, and by one bell they were walking into the town itself.

“When we enter the town,” Jesse told Enoch, “you’d better let me do the talking. These folks may not be familiar with spirit-hosts.”

“Gotcha.”

Jesse had never seen a town so large. They had to walk several blocks before finding the bridge, and crossed over to the town commons. What they saw when they did discouraged the both of them. The docks on the riverfront were empty of any boats mooring there. There were bails of cotton stacked on the wharf, kegs of liquor, crates of vegetables and fruit from River Bend, but there were no boats to transport them. What they did see was the masts of perhaps a dozen sunken boats protruding from the waters below, and signs that some of the wharf had been recently burned as well.

Whitehurst sprawled out on both sides of the Elmer. Unlike Albion, whose streets were paved with stone, Whitehurst’s alleys and avenues were all dirt. The houses were packed closely together and except for the main avenue that ran across the bridge and through the commons the streets were very narrow. This made it difficult for wagons and carriages to navigate the side streets, and drivers yelled and cursed their counterparts when two of them met in an alley. Never-the-less, wagons would race down these alleys at unsafe speeds, sending chickens and children scampering for cover.

The people of Whitehurst looked like they could be found on the streets of Albion. The women wore the same long, wool skirts with white cotton blouses, and even braided their hair like the women back home. The men all wore traditional Foothills attire as well, but many carried swords at their sides, and most sported beards, something that in Albion would have marked them as being uncultured Territory folks—but of course—this was the Territories. They had left Atlantis behind when they crossed the bridge at Albion.

There was plenty of food to be had in Whitehurst, too. Temporary booths lined the commons and both women and men stood behind their counters shouting at passersby to try a taste of their fruit pies or meat pies. But first things first. Jesse and Enoch had to find an inn and find out when the next boat heading south would depart. He stopped a man on the street, “Pardon me sir, but do you know where we could find an inn?”

The man stared at Jesse briefly, “Just keep going up the street. You’ll find a few of them. But I’d clean up a little before you do. Innkeepers won’t take to a vagabond.”

“Thanks for the directions and the advice,” Jesse replied, and continued down the street in the direction that they had been going. In a few blocks they came to an intersection with four inns, one on each corner. The first one that they came to was, “The Trail’s End.” Jesse and Enoch went in and walked up to the man at the counter. “Do you have any rooms available,” he asked.

“Not for the likes of you,” the innkeeper snarled. “We just serve gentlemen here. And take that mutt with you! No dogs are allowed!”

Rebuffed, Jesse left and went to the next inn, “The Hospitality House.” There he received a similar, decidedly inhospitable rebuke, and decided to try to make himself look a little more presentable before trying inns three and four. He found a tailor’s shop the next block down and asked if he could have shirt and pants ready for him that afternoon? The tailor said that he could oblige, but he wanted half a denarius in advance for the rush job. Jesse paid the man and then the two of them walked back to the commons to buy some pies. After feeding Enoch three meat pies Jesse was starting to get concerned, “That’s enough, Enoch. You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Don’t treat me like a child,” Enoch retorted, and upon hearing the dog a couple passed over to the other side of the street.

Jesse leaned down close to the dog, “And don’t blow your cover!”

“Sorry.”

With time to spend before his new clothes would be ready, Jesse decided to do some shopping to replenish the supplies that he had lost when he jumped into the river a few days earlier. “I need a shave and a haircut,” he announced.

“I’d think that former one over,” Enoch whispered.

“Why?”

“Look around you. How many men do you see wearing beards? When in Atlantis, do as the Atlantans do. Same goes for Whitehurst, I suspect.”

“Good point.”

“Besides,” Enoch went on, “if you really intend to travel all the way to Eden how many shaved faces do you think that you’ll see there? Better start growing your disguise now.”

“You’re right,” Jesse whispered back. “Maybe just a trim.”

During the course of the afternoon Jesse and Enoch went from store to store and shop to shop in Whitehurst. Jesse got a haircut, his beard trimmed, purchased a new compass, a new map, a new black cloak, a new purse, a leather satchel for traveling with handy straps for the shoulders that the store-keeper called a “backpack” and an extra blanket. On their last stop Jesse picked up a black hat to match his cloak and to prevent any more sunburn. The hat had a large brim that bent down slightly in front, with a leather braided band around its flat crown. Jesse put it on in front of the mirror, adjusting it slightly.

“Ooooh! It’s yoooou! It’s yoooou!” Enoch mocked.

“Shut up.”

“Did you have a question?” the shopkeeper asked from across the store.

“No. I’ll take the hat.”

Resupplied, Jesse and Enoch were ready to pick up Jesse’s clothes and try once again to get a room at an inn. This time Jesse entered one called, “The Emperor’s Inn,” and their reception was much different than it had been earlier in the day.

“Do you have any rooms for the night?” Jesse asked as he approached the innkeeper behind the counter.

“You’re in luck, young Lord,” the innkeeper replied. “Only one bed that’s not full.”

“How much?”

“Forty coppers. That includes one meal, but your dog will have to stay outside. You can tie him in the stable if you like.”

“Does that include a bath?”

“Nossir. With a bath that’ll be fifty—in advance. And two to a bed. No exceptions.”

“Sure you don’t have a private room?”

The innkeeper laughed, “What, with traffic on the river come to a standstill? I’m sorry, young Lord. Two to a bed it is—and you’re lucky to get that. Try any of the other inns in Whitehurst and they’ll be sending you away—or selling you a place in the stable.”

Jesse dug through his new purse for the money, and then laid the coins on the counter. “What did you say about traffic on the river coming to a standstill? We’ve come by way of the highway.”

“Haven’t you heard?” the innkeeper exclaimed. “It’s been the talk of all Whitehurst! ‘Bout three weeks ago a bunch of an-nef came through heading south. When they left they set fire to every boat at the docks, ‘sep the barge they were on. Killed a man that tried to stop ‘em, too. Hasn’t been a boat come up from River Bend since. Seems that on their way south they’ve attacked every boat headed upriver. They’ve sunk so many boats that even if someone tried to leave River Bend they’d have a hard time making it, what with all the sunken boats clogging the river and all. Why, I’ve got twenty river sailors that’s staying in this very inn! The other inns in town the same. Four of ‘em straggled in just this very morning. Had to walk for seven days just to get here.”

The talk of no traffic on the river upset Jesse, and he supposed that it must have showed.

“Don’t worry, son,” the innkeeper told him, “there’s bound to be some boats get though before long.”

“What about coaches?” Jesse asked. “Any coaches going south?”

“Not a chance. People’s afraid to take the highway north or south, with the talk of lions on the road and such. Just ain’t safe to travel anymore.”

“Yeah. I know about the lions,” Jesse said. “Killed one of them myself north of here, just a few days ago.”

With that the innkeeper started to laugh uproariously. Jesse wondered what he could have said that struck the innkeeper so funny.

The innkeeper slapped him on the shoulder, “Yeah! Right! Killed a couple of them myself just this morning!”

Jesse reached into his purse and counted out another fifty coins. “Guess I’ll be staying another night.”

“That you will, young Lord!” the innkeeper replied as he gleefully pocketed the money. “Here’s your key. Right up the stairs, last room on your right. The bath’s at the end of the hall. Better get to bed before your bedmate does. He’s a sailor and a big ‘un and’ll likely not leave you much room.”

“Thanks for the advice.”

Jesse stuck the key in the pocket of his cloak and walked back outside with Enoch. He sat on the inn’s steps for a while, thinking. “Now what do we do?” he said at last.

“That’s up to you,” Enoch replied quietly.

“Yeah I know.” Jesse looked up at the sky, which was starting to grow dark with clouds. “Enoch, you’d better find the stable. It’s going to get wet out here. I’m going to take a bath, eat some dinner, and go up to my room and think. I’ll meet you right here after breakfast. I’ll buy you some more of those meat pies that you like so well.”

“Deal!” With that Enoch trotted around the corner of the building in search of the stable.

Jesse went back into the inn and decided that the next thing that he would do would be to check out his room. When he got there he found it unoccupied. It was furnished with a large featherbed—barely enough room for two, a commode, a table with a candle, some firesticks, a braided rug and a fireplace. At least, he thought, he’d be dry tonight, and he hoped that the sailor didn’t snore. He started to lay his belongings on the bed, and then realized that a stranger had the other key to his room, so he limited the number of items that he would not drag around with him to his bow and quiver. Next stop: the bath.

When he arrived at the bath he discovered the room was meant to accommodate three bathers at a time. There were three large copper tubs—one already occupied by an older man with long white hair tied in a ponytail, and sporting a closely trimmed matching white beard—and a large woman the age of his mother dousing the tub’s occupant with hot water. In front of the tubs were benches for dressing and on the walls were hooks for clothes. Beside each tub was a stand with towels neatly stacked. At one end of the room was a large, pot-bellied stove with water heating.