Fire Games (Pyforial Mage Trilogy: Book 1) Page 9

  I finished the last few drops in my water skin in the morning. I shouldn’t have drunk it all as soon as we saw the lake, just like Shara warned. I wondered what it would feel like to die from hunger or thirst. How would I know I was about to cease to exist? I wasn’t too thirsty yet, but I already was starving. It felt like a knife was stuck in my stomach. How much worse could it get? I had trouble keeping my back straight as I walked, hunching over until it ached worse than my belly. I walked for hours and more hours.

  If I was a religious man, I would’ve prayed to both gods that I would find someone with food and that the red priest and his men weren’t watching the path to Cessri. But I wasn’t religious. All I could do was hope, too hungry and tired to think about anything else. This is how it would feel to die from hunger, I realized. To hope for food, and hope, and hope, and hope, until the realization set in that there was no hope. That’s how I would die, with nothing but a useless coin purse filled with money. The irony. Money should be made out of something edible, maybe stale bread.

  Gods, I was getting delirious. Evening was setting in. I couldn’t imagine sleeping another night without food. No, I could imagine, and it was torture. A dreadful thirst had set in as well.

  There was a voice in my head: Come on, Neeko, people live for many days without food. But what about water, I argued? Yes water is more important, it said. You’ll find a lake if you don’t find another person. You can boil the water and drink as much as you want, just remember to keep any sticks you find on the way that might be good for making a fire. But, I argued, Shara has our pot. Then drink it straight. You’ll be fine. Do you think Shara is still walking to Cessri with the boy? Probably. She wouldn’t want you worrying about her right now. She must be worried about me, I realized. Yes, the voice agreed. She must be.

  I didn’t know why, but it was comforting to have someone worried about me. Probably because it had been so long since anyone had.

  It was harder to fall asleep the second night. I constantly woke from hunger pangs in my stomach. Each time, I licked my cracked lips. My tongue was so dry it just made them sting.

  Eventually it was morning. I couldn’t care less about the dirt caked into my face and hair. I’d stick my face in mud just for a chance to slurp up some water. I had twelve days left, and I’d only walked a few miles the day before. I was far behind where I needed to be by now. I wondered how many more miles until I reached Cessri. Could I make it without water? It had been stupid of me not to wait until we had fresh water ready. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  If I had the chance.

  I had no sense of time. I couldn’t tell how far I walked. But my feet went on.

  I thought I saw someone. I squinted, focusing on the image. It looked like a small, dancing tree. The sight was hazy, making me feel as if I was in a dream. I trudged forward, my poor aching back complaining. I told it to be patient.

  I might’ve walked a mile, or only a hundred yards, but the dancing tree became clear. It was a horse! Please let there be a person with this horse.

  Yes! There was a man walking beside the animal.

  “Please,” I uttered, my weak voice unfamiliar to my own ears. I sounded like a dog trying to speak. “Need…” The pain from uttering one word was almost enough to stop me right there. “Water,” I concluded.

  “What are you doing traveling alone with a war going on? You want to die?” he asked rhetorically. “You got money?”

  I nodded, hoping he knew I was answering his third question, not his second.

  “I got a full skin of water, two if you want them.”

  I nodded eagerly, holding up two fingers.

  “Five pits.”

  I’d never drunk water faster in my life than when he handed me the two bulging water skins. “Easy now!” he warned. I barely heard him, finishing one without taking a breath. I was tempted to drink the other, and I considered it, but a sharp pain at the center of my stomach made me collapse, nearly spilling it.

  “You’ll be all right,” the man soothed. “Just drank too much too fast.”

  My head was pressed against the dirt, one hand clasped around the still full water skin as it rested on the ground, my other grabbing my stomach. “Got any food to sell?” I asked between groans of pain, still unable to lift my head.

  “Sure do. Loads of it. I wouldn’t be a smart road salesman if I didn’t.”

  A silver and six pits later, I’d learned Cessri was ten or fifteen more miles along this road, but I had plenty of food and water for the trip. Instead of charging me for keeping the water skins, he let me give both back after I filled mine.

  I couldn’t help but ask the man, “Why be fair when I’m clearly desperate?”

  “It’s bad zuji to take advantage.”

  “So you’re a religious man.”

  “No.”

  Did this road salesman not understand what zuji was? “You can’t say you worry about bad zuji without being religious.”

  “But I just did.”

  “Don’t you see the contradiction?”

  He shook his head. “We can worry about things we don’t believe in. It’s only when we’re certain something doesn’t exist that we’re entirely incapable of being scared by it.”

  Perhaps it was from recently being famished, but I couldn’t quite grasp what he meant.

  Noticing my confusion, he said, “I may not believe in zuji, but I’m not certain it doesn’t exist.”

  Now I understood. It was a fair argument. But even if it wasn’t, I didn’t want to stay there debating with him. I had to get to Cessri, hopefully find Eizle there as well as Shara, get some horses, and then go north to Glaine, the three of us.

  Then I remembered my aunt. I could skip the visit to her house and she’d never know I was there, but I didn’t feel right about that. She needed to hear me apologize for what happened to my mother. I thanked the man who’d saved my life, hoped it was the last time anyone needed to, and set off.

  “Wait,” he called after me. “You should buy an extra pair of shoes.”

  “I’ve already got some.” I pointed at my bag.

  “You must be a smart traveler, then. So how did you run out of water?” He laughed loudly to show he didn’t need an answer.

  It made me realize I wasn’t a smart traveler. I was just fortunate enough to meet someone who was. I hoped I’d find her. Gods, if hopes cost coins, I’d be poorer than a mute bard.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It took two more nights and half a day to reach Cessri. That meant I had ten days left including the remainder of today. A man with a friendly smile and a tall hat that made him look like a solicitor stood in the center of the main road into the city. His gaze locked on to mine as he waited for me to get closer.

  “Hello, are you traveling from Lanhine?”

  “Yes,” I answered without stopping, not interested in whatever he had to sell.

  His voice became hurried. “Is there someone who might be looking for you, or might you be looking for someone?”

  If this was a sales tactic, I hadn’t a clue where it was going. I stopped, curious what he could offer that would allow Shara and me to find each other. “I am looking for someone.”

  “Are they here already?”

  I played along. “More than likely, yes.” She’d gone north when I’d run south during the attack.

  “Then may I have his or her name?”

  “How much is this going to cost?”

  “Possibly nothing.”

  “Possibly?” I inquired.

  “If he’s here, he may have given me a message for you and paid for it already. If not, I would ask that you pay for the message if there is one.”

  “She,” I corrected him, “and how much do you charge?”

  “Pay anything you want.”

  I liked the sound of that. “Her name is Shara, and she had a little boy with her.”

  He made a grim face. “I remember Shara, but there was no boy with her when she got to
town, nor later when she came back to give me a message. I’m sorry.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a wad of small papers. “What’s your name?”

  “Neeko.” I didn’t care much that the boy was no longer with her, though I was curious as to what could’ve happened. He’d probably robbed her while she slept.

  “Here’s the message,” he said. “Do you know how to read?”

  I held out my hand.

  I hope this reaches you! It’s day 25 of the 4th. I’m working at Pig Belly’s Inn, Hammershon Street, BN 22. Come find me, go north. Head toward the center of the city. I don’t care if you don’t look pretty. I’m afraid I have only news that’s bleak-o, but it will all be better when I see your face, Neeko.

  That was certainly Shara. I pocketed the note and thanked the man.

  “She wasn’t able to pay,” he told me, unabashed.

  “Wasn’t able to, or didn’t?”

  “She said she had no money.”

  Gods, I hoped that she’d lied to him. “How much?”

  “However much you think the information’s worth.”

  Truthfully, that information was worth many ruffs. I might’ve never found her without it. But I wasn’t paying him that much. When I fixed a man’s roof so that he could move his sick daughter back into her room without the unrelenting rain dripping onto her bed, I didn’t expect to be paid what it was worth to him. He paid me for my task, for my supplies, for my skill, and for my time. I did the same for this man, handing him two pits.

  He grumbled as he took them, tipping his hat mindlessly. “Thank you.”

  Guilt stopped me. I gave him two more. He smiled at me, thanking me once again but with sincerity this time.

  Cessri’s roads were cleaner than Lanhine’s, wider with no shrubbery growing out from the bottoms of houses. I figured I was too young last time I was here to appreciate it. My shirt was marred with the wine Shara had spat on me, soot from my burning house, and dirt—a whole lot of dirt. I didn’t even know where so much had come from. It was as if I’d been rolling around in it. My pants were no better. I stank like a beggar. I figured my aunt would mistake me for one if I didn’t clean myself. I would, after a visit to Pig Belly’s Inn.

  Walking about these wide streets made me feel eight years old again. Not much had changed since I’d left my mother here.

  There was that hope again, telling me she might still be in our old home. It had managed to stay with me all this time. I’d never seen her die. Someone else could’ve been killed, her body mistaken for my mother’s. It was the same argument over and over, but I knew better.

  And there was my guilt, coming in strong as the hope faded. She wouldn’t have died if I’d never left.

  I found Shara’s inn. The thought of seeing her put a smile on my face, until I remembered she had grave news. I hoped she was exaggerating. More hope already? I almost couldn’t believe it. I was fed up with hoping for outcomes that never happened. I needed to stop hoping and start expecting. Her news would be grave. My smile disappeared.

  I asked for her at the front, where a man behind the bar poured a beer for a hefty gentleman with kind features.

  “I don’t know a Share-uh.” The bartender set down the beer. “Two pits.”

  The hefty gentleman stuck one of his hairy hands into a pocket and took out two bronze coins.

  “She said she was working here,” I prompted.

  “You want a drink?” he asked.

  “No. I’m just looking for Shara.”

  “Get something,” the gentleman said. “I’m buying.”

  I suddenly worried this was the game of politeness Shara had talked about. Fairith, I thought she called it. No, that was in Antilith. I used to live in Cessri. I would’ve known if fairith existed here.

  “Thank you, but I’m fine. I just need to find Shara.”

  “Hey, you know a Share-uh?” the bartender screamed over my head at someone.

  “Shar-ah,” I quietly corrected him.

  “She’s the new waitress,” a man behind me yelled. “Why?”

  “This guy’s looking for her.”

  “Why?”

  The bartender glanced back at me. “Why are you looking?”

  I didn’t know who to answer, him or the man he would surely shout my answer to. Figuring it would be rude to spin around after being asked a direct question, I answered the bartender. “I just need to talk to her.”

  “Says he just needs to talk,” he shouted over me.

  I was thankful the room was empty save the gentleman beside me who seemed more entertained by his drink than by my embarrassment.

  “She couldn’t start work today until evening.” The man behind seemed to be talking to me now. “But she won’t have time to talk when she does. You can leave a note under her door if it’s important. You know how to write?”

  “I do, but I don’t have a quill or paper.”

  “One pit to use ours as well as a parchment, and I’ll gladly show you which room is hers.”

  I took his offer.

  Shara, I just got to Cessri. I’m glad to learn you’re safe. There are a few things I need to do before we can leave for Glaine. I hope your grave news won’t stop you from coming. I’ll be at my aunt’s house. I might stay the night there if she’ll have me.

  I wrote my aunt’s address. Then I was tempted to come up with a rhyme as she had throughout her whole note. I figured it had taken her no more than a few breaths time, but I stood there in thought for quite a while. Finally I came up with something.

  I hope you’re not working the bar-a. That doesn’t seem like a good job for Shara. Drinking men often think with their hand. The word no, they rarely understand.

  Once I was clean and wearing new clothes, I felt reborn. It was worth triple what I’d spent at three silver and four pits. I bought a second blanket, then a dagger with a casing for my belt, knowing it was just as important as clothes. Four more silver gone, but it was well worth it.

  Memories came to me the moment I saw Aunt Nann’s house. I remembered sitting in her living room with my mother, bored as they drank tea and talked about money and work and how this woman was ignoring her children and why this man would be perfect for my mother. They would only talk about Jon when I brought him up.

  I asked about my father all the time when we first moved to Cessri, wanting to know when we would see him again.

  “Soon,” my mother kept telling me.

  It was Aunt Nann who told me the truth, though I didn’t know it at the time. “If Faye’s smart, she’ll never be near Jon again.”

  “Why?”

  “He hurts her, child.”

  I’d heard my mother’s stifled yelps behind closed doors, had seen the bruises on her arms when she rolled up her sleeves. For some reason, I believed the obvious lies: Mother and Father need to discuss serious matters, but everything’s fine. Mother just fell—everything’s fine. Father wasn’t himself last night—everything’s fine now. Sometimes Father gets angry, so it’s best if we stay away from him until he calms down. Everything’s going to be fine.

  Even after Aunt Nann told me, I couldn’t accept that my father would hurt my mother. I’d needed my mother to say it to believe it.

  I knocked on my aunt’s door.

  “Who’s there?” Her voice was unfamiliar to me. She sounded…old.

  “It’s Neeko Aquin. Is that you Aunt Nann?”

  “Did you say Neeko?”

  “Yes, madam.” The word came out on its own, reminding me how Nann always wanted me to use it or call her Aunt Nann.

  I waited a long while, hearing nothing behind the door. “Aunt Nann?”

  “Hold your britches. My eyes don’t see as good anymore.”

  She finally got the door open. The sight of her shocked me. She was old, with frizzled gray hair in a disarrayed mess. Her wrinkled face was just as round as I remembered, but her eyes were pale and cloudy. She was hunched over, the height of a little girl but thick in the shoulders
with lumps of fat bulging out from her dress. At least she’s well-fed.

  “Is that really you, Neeko?”

  “It is, madam. May I come in?”

  She either ignored my question or was too in awe to care. “You’re a giant now! Look at those shoulders and arms. You were such a skinny boy. Is it really you?”

  “Yes, madam. Thank you. May I come in so we can talk?”

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Her words sputtered out quick. She seemed annoyed. “You went away, left your poor mother. She thought you went to see Jon, but I knew you were smarter than that. Where did you go?”

  “That’s what I’d like to talk about, Aunt Nann. May I come in?”

  “Oh…oh, yes. Come. Lock the door after you.”

  I was curious how old she was. I didn’t know my parents’ exact ages, but Jon couldn’t have been older than fifty, and my mother always looked younger than him. I hadn’t thought Nann was much older than my mother, but she had to be from the looks of her now.

  “Help Aunt Nann into her chair.” She stuck out her arm for me to take. I guided her toward the most comfortable looking seat in her living room. She fell into it with a grunt. “Oh, would you like some tea? I could make us a cup.”

  It didn’t seem worth the trouble. “Thank you, but I’m fine, madam.”

  “Neeko…” Her tone was scolding as she wagged a finger at me. “Faye was heartbroken when you left.” Nann gasped. “You even took her money. Yes, you took it! Why did you take your mother’s money?”

  All right, she wasn’t quite screaming. This wasn’t going that bad, yet.

  “Do you remember Swenn, Eizle’s brother?” I asked.

  “Ohhhh, that nasty boy.” Anger scrunched her features together. “Makes me want to spit. Did he make you leave, Neeko?”

  “He didn’t make me, but he was part of it.”

  “Madam,” Nann added.

  “Madam, sorry.”

  “Tell me what happened.”

  Jon had heard a version of this story that was more lies than truth. My neighbor had heard the same version as Jon. Aunt Nann would be the first person to hear more of what really happened, but there was still so much I couldn’t tell her, certainly nothing about pyforial energy. As soon as I began, I realized the true reason I wanted to share my side with her. I needed someone to tell me it wasn’t my fault. I wanted the guilt to be gone.