The First Book of the Pure (12 page)

“You are Ruby, the seller of these wonderful
medicines and such? I am An’Kahar, and I have tried long and hard
to find you.”

“I don’t know where you have looked sir,
because I’ve been in this town most of my life. And just why are
you trying to find this other Ruby person, if I might ask?” Now she
was suspicious, and that translated into a very real, quiet danger
for this man in her shop. She thought about the hidden weapons in
her establishment and the three that were hidden on her person.
While she had no doubt that this man couldn’t kill her, she didn’t
intend to suffer pain or humiliation at anyone’s hands. If need be,
he would find that out at the cost of his life, or worse. He
wouldn’t be the first man she’d turned into a eunuch.

“Well, in this town, in this lifetime I don’t
doubt you, but you were Rubella before this, and I think Ruby
before that. You must like your first name, your real name, which I
suspect is Ruby. I’ve been seeking you for two hundred years, and
I’m thrilled to have finally found you. Fear nothing from me, dear
lady. I will gladly answer any questions you have. May we sit and
be comfortable?”

She realized that he knew too much, and while
it seemed likely he was fishing for more, what he knew in the way
of facts couldn’t be easily dismissed. Without finding out what he
knew, she didn’t even think it wise to have him “disappear” during
the night. First, at least, she must find out who he was, who sent
him, and what was at stake. She locked the door, waved him to a
table in the back, and sat across from him. Her hand slid under the
table and touched the razor-sharp throwing star lightly attached to
the bottom of the table at which they sat. She could dispatch this
fool quickly enough if he proved to be a problem, or if he even
might
be a problem for her. Those she did not tolerate at
all well. “You sound ridiculous. Two hundred years! What a story.
And who are you to be living several men’s lifetimes?”

“As I said, An’Kahar, my lady, and for some
reason you and I share a long life. I’ve spent considerable sums to
find and track such as we are, and I have to admit you’re the first
I’ve actually met. Please don’t try to hide it. My agents were far
too thorough for that. You’re Ruby, and since you’ve lived for at
least three lifetimes I have to assume it could be more. No matter,
you’re long-lived, as I am, and we have to hide it among the
short-lived people of our race. Don’t you wish to talk freely with
an equal?”

She gave him a calculating look. “First, I
think you’re trying to trick me with this dung heap of a story, and
secondly, I’m quite contented with my life as it is.” Her grip
tightened on the star she’d been caressing like a lover’s neck. She
considered using the razor sharp weapon from under the table. Once
it sliced into his groin he would at least be incapacitated, and
likely would bleed to death quickly.

“Well, I’m unwilling to be acquaintances
until enough years have passed that we come to know each other well
enough to see we really
are
alike. I’m willing to take more
drastic action to prove my honorable intentions to you. You may go
ahead and stab me with that blade you’ve hidden, or let me slowly
extract my own and prove my tenacity for life.” He slowly took a
thin, three inch blade from his sleeve, and without waiting for any
untoward action on her part, dropped it on the table, and with his
eyes he invited her to use it. She raised her eyebrows at this,
stood and walked around the table to him. She didn’t hesitate.
Before he could say anything else she quickly plunged his own blade
into his shoulder, removing it in a fluid, practiced motion.

As blood spurted out, he grabbed a nearby rag
and staunched the bleeding. Gritting his teeth to the pain, he
spoke through his clenched jaw. “Please allow me to stay the night,
and by morning you’ll have your proof. I’ll be almost dead or I’ll
be almost healed.” With a grimace he continued. “I suspect you know
how much this hurts, and even though it will heal fairly quickly, I
don’t enjoy it. Please, my lady.”

“Well, stay then. Let’s see what you’re made
of, sir.” She pulled out her own knife, cleverly hidden in a ribbon
sheath that looked like part of her dress. “And if you’re almost
dead in the morning, you’ll be finished by my hand, whether or not
you
think
you can die. If you’re playing some elaborate
hoax, I’ll show you that you can indeed lose your life. You’ll
bleed out slowly from a deep slice in a very sensitive area of your
body. Still want to play this game, or leave now and hope you
survive? I have little use for men in general. I’ve seen too much
abuse of women and children.” Her smile was icy.

She was standing, and he was sitting in a
small pool of his own blood. She casually tossed and imbedded the
razor pointed star into the table before him, an inch away from the
edge, and him. “Let’s get you bandaged up, and have a long visit by
the fire. I think you might be more interesting than I first
thought. You must try this exquisite tea.”

He did, and twenty minutes later he was fast
asleep, sleeping the deep, dreamless sleep of the drugged. She
looked down on the young looking, rakish stranger with his curly
brown hair. She couldn’t help but wonder about him and what he
might represent. She had seriously mixed feelings of curiosity,
self-preservation and even, if she were to admit it, some
loneliness.
What shall I do with you?
Or perhaps the
question really is, what shall we do together, if you are who and
what you say you are?

Session 7

The next two days were simply lost time for
Kenneth. Nobody showed up but Bertram, and Kenneth’s motions around
the house were severely limited. No pool use, no gym. He sat about,
eating and typing when he felt like it. There was a television,
quite a nice one. It was an enormous, state of the art
technological marvel.

The third day, as bored as he’d ever
remembered being, in walked his host like nothing had happened and
no time had passed. It just accentuated to Kenneth the reality of
his situation: it was completely out of his control and he was in
the uncomfortable position of being under someone else’s absolute
power.

His host started with no explanation of his
absence, and certainly no apology.
I guess I’m just to wait on
his schedule, his reasons, his…hmm, I guess I am.
Kenneth
decided silence was the wisest course of action.

“This next Pure is a conundrum to me. He
seems totally disinterested in Pures, Normals, or anything else of
real import. He just seems to live his life.”

“And that seems odd to you?” Kenneth asked,
the coolness in his voice hard to miss.

His host ignored it completely, however.
“Well, yes. He has wealth now, but not then in the time I’m going
to tell you about. He seems to be powerful, but he also seems to
not care. Honestly, I don’t quite understand it.

“But whatever his thought processes are, his
history is important to the record of the Pures. He would be, in a
different culture perhaps, a grand Statesman. But he doesn’t want
such things.” He said it with a sense of disdain in his voice.
“This is once again the eldest of us, when Gheret revived.”

Gheret’s Second Return

With no more explanation, the story moved on
to the now familiar character of Gheret.

When Gheret awoke after the avalanche, still
lying on the rock shelf, he realized he hadn’t frozen to death. He
released a low chuckle.
Funny thing, I’ve been dead before
.
The snow around was light, and the deep shelf he’d sheltered on
during the avalanche was now exposed on the edge. He peered out for
a long time, wondering what was out there, when this was, and what
the challenges would be. He also wondered what happened to the ice;
there was certainly a lot of it when he’d settled in to die.
Those challenges won’t come looking for me, so let’s get
started
. He used the knife he had retained to help him
tediously and painfully climb the crevasse. Had it closed up while
he was in it, he’d have been well and truly dead.

Once out, he started toward the location of
the closest settlement he remembered, not knowing if it was gone or
if it had become a great town by now. The furs he had on had aged,
and were clearly old now, and barely serviceable. When he saw the
town ahead, large, walled, and with uniformed men watching all
along it, he slowed and considered what the safest approach might
be.

He neared the open gate and was hailed by the
soldier there in French. “Hey trapper, you wearing everything you
trapped? Or are you just going on holiday?”

Gheret stopped and considered the language,
not being sure what it was. He answered in Inuit, hoping that the
indigenous language was still spoken by some.

“Indian, huh? You don’t look it,” answered
the soldier in a kind of pigeon-Inuit. Gheret could understand
though, and that was all that mattered. He told the soldier he’d
been caught in an avalanche and then was lost. It had been months
since he’d seen other people, and he asked if there was a place he
could go for food and shelter. “Ay,” replied the soldier. “Go
straight down this street till you see ‘Emmas’ on a sign. Wait,
it’ll look like this.” The accommodating soldier squatted down and
with his knife drew the rough letters for EMMAS in the dirt.
“She’ll put you up, and I’m pretty sure she speaks Inuit. Good
luck.”

Gheret thanked him and continued on. As he
walked the street to Emma’s he heard people speaking all around
him. He realized that Inuit wasn’t spoken by many. Emma however,
might know enough Inuit to be helpful.

When he found and greeted her, she replied in
Inuit. With that commonality he was able to explain his problem to
this woman. She was of average height, and wouldn’t be considered a
beauty by many, yet she exuded a warmth and attractiveness that
transcended the physical. “I’ve nothing to trade for lodging and
food. Perhaps I could work to cover it for now. I’ll find work
quickly. I can do most anything, and I’m very strong.”

Emma smiled at him, considering what she
might do for this good looking stranger. “I really can’t afford to
pay you anything, but there are some things that need doing around
here.” A slight hesitation and her decision was made. “I’ll feed
you and give you a room, if you’ll do a good day’s work for me.”
She stuck her hand out, expecting a shake to seal the deal. Gheret
just stared at it. She took his hand, gripped it with her own, and
demonstrated a handshake. “This is a greeting, and a goodbye, and
it also seals our agreement. You really are a stranger here, aren’t
you?”

“Yes, friend,” he said in Inuit. “Perhaps
there’s someone who could teach me your language?”

“Friend it is,” Emma replied. “I’ll be happy
to teach you in the evenings, after dinner. I was once a teacher
until I followed my idiot husband to this wilderness. He found his
own way out with a bear, and here I remain.”

“A bear?”

“Yes,” Emma said with an odd smile. “It ate
him.” She started laughing, a clear, pure laugh that was
contagious. Finally stopping, she looked flushed and perhaps
embarrassed. “Sorry, that must have seemed completely mad, or at
least uncaring. He was a good man, but he was an idiot, and so very
arrogant. In his stupid arrogance he chased a bear away from here
into the woods. Unfortunately for him he did it with a stick. He
thought the yelling and his aggressive demeanor would make the bear
run. It did, until it decided it would rather eat him than be
chased by him. Come,” she said, as if to change the subject, “and
I’ll show you the wood pile. I need wood split pretty quickly since
snow is coming. And it’s never anything but cold here.”

Gheret thought it was pretty pleasant
weather, but then he’d been frozen in a great ball of ice for a
very long time. He followed her out and around the wooden slat
board building. It had a long porch with a swing hanging from its
roof. His first people slept in the open and later in caves, but
had never built a dwelling. His last home had been an igloo.
This is wonderful. This warm home suits Emma.

The wood pile was enormous, and the axe dull.
He said the Inuit word for “whetstone” and pantomimed rubbing
something along the edge of the blade. She understood and handed
him an oddly shaped one, made for an axe blade. “Best I have.” It
was far better than the primitive tools he’d last used, so he
gratefully took it and started stropping the blade.

Later Emma came back outside and was amazed
to see what Gheret had accomplished. He had a great pile of split
wood stacked behind him, and was splitting thick log sections with
one strong, downward sweep of the axe. She suspected firewood was
not the only thing he’d used an axe on.

“Stop! You’ve done more than I could have
chopped in a week.”

“How much is enough? This, or would you like
more?”

“There’s never enough wood ready for the
fire, but this is plenty for now. Please stop, or you’ll make me
feel guilty that all I can give you is food and shelter.”

“That too, is plenty.” Gheret found it easy
to smile at this kind woman.

“Well, let’s clean up and I’ll have dinner
ready shortly. Come into the house when you’re ready. The barn has
water in it.”

Gheret looked at the barn and realized she
wanted him to prepare, and perhaps to shelter there. He cleaned up,
wondering how to approach this woman about all that he needed to
know. There was much, so much, that had happened over the course of
who knew how many years, of which he simply knew absolutely
nothing. And he must know, for to not know would make him less able
to face the future.

His thoughts lingered on Emma.
This woman
seems such a warm, kind-hearted person. I may enjoy this place and
time after all. I think I could use a friend
. As he had his
past, he would conquer any future he must face. He’d always been
his own man, and lived his life his own way. That wasn’t going to
change in this new time. He went into the house resolved to learn
from and to be gracious to this woman. But learn today’s world he
must.