The Sacrifice

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Oisin woke, feeling vaguely confused. This was not his pallet in his father’s house, where he should be sleeping. But no, his father was dead, his brother had thrown him out, and he was staying with Firas. He blinked again, for that wasn’t right either, he wasn’t on a cold floor beneath a scrap of tattered blanket in the corner of Firas’ kitchen, he was…

The feel of impossibly soft fabric against his cheek, a warm, thick quilt over him, and a sudden rush of memory told him where he was; in Bel’s palace, in the deep feather bed there, with his head against a pillow whose cover was softer than any clothing he’d ever worn, while his body was wrapped in a robe that was fine enough for a king.

He looked to the window, to see the time, but it seemed to be still night. Had he slept the full day away? He felt rested enough that it might be true. He also felt hungry. There was a cascade of giggles and a faint thump of wood on wood that made him turn his head to see a tray on the small table beside the bed. It jiggled again, the tray thudding against the table. It held a trencher topped with a trio of fried eggs, steaming faintly. Oisin scrambled out of bed and attacked the food with a will, finding that the trencher was of fresh bread, a little chewy, but not stale and as good as anything he’d ever had in his life. He ate every scrap of it, along with all the eggs. The wooden cup this time held only fresh water, but he downed that as well.

No sooner had he stood from his breakfast than he found the robe he’d been wrapped in whisked away by invisible hands, and a pair of breeks were presented and nudged against his legs rather firmly for him to don. He didn’t protest, but cooperated in this strange dressing. He soon found himself clad in a very fine tunic of walnut brown, tied at the waist with a sash of bright turquoise. Soft hose of a lighter brown and shoes of soft leather with little brass buckles set with small turquoise blue stones finished the outfit. He felt he was dressed like a lord, and peered down at himself with astonishment as the giggles once more vanished.

“Good morning.”

Oisin jumped and spun around. Bel had come into the room without a sound, and stood now, pale skin contrasting with his dark robes, his head nearly touching the ceiling, looking down at Oisin. Oisin stared for a long moment, taking in the being who had saved him. The god was, as Firas’ tales had said, much like a man. But his great height, his strange, pale eyes, his silver hair, and other, smaller things Oisin noticed now, seeing him clearly for the first time, such as the way his ears came to pointed tips—all marked him as unlike any man Oisin had ever known.

“Or such a morning as can be had here.”

Oisin blinked in confusion. “Sir?”

“It is always night here. The sun never rises, for the sky in this place answers to my will. Your people, long, long ago, called me Belinos, the bright one, and thought I was their god of the sun, for I first came to them at Beltane. The sun and I are not friends, though. My power is greatest by night.”

Oisin blinked, feeling confused. “I don’t understand, sir.”

“No, I suppose you do not.” Bel looked down at him, his expression unreadable. “What do you think of this place, my little deer?”

Oisin hesitated, then slowly said, “It seems like something from a dream. And I feel I have been treated like a king.”

“You are happy here, then?”

“Y-yes sir.” Oisin felt that “happy” was not quite the right word, but he certainly wasn’t unhappy to be here.

“It is well, then. You will stay, and be my companion for a time, and we shall see what purpose you may be turned to.”

Oisin blinked at him again, unable to formulate a response to that.

“What skills do you have, little deer?”

“I…Not many, sir. I helped with my father’s farm. I tended my nieces and nephews. I can cook a little, and sew a seam. I never learned a trade, though.”

“I see.” Bel looked down at him, his pale face impassive. At length he said, “I suppose you probably don’t know how to read.”

“I do, just a little.”

Bel’s eyebrows went up ever so slightly. “Not many people in this part of the world do.”

“I broke my arm one summer. My father said I might as well do something that might be useful, and sent me to the town, to learn from the priests of the Christ-god there.”

“So you learned Latin letters then, and not edge-runes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I suppose edge-runes are going the way of all old things.” He looked at Oisin for a long moment, then nodded. “Come with me, my little deer.” Bel beckoned and Oisin followed, unable to conceive of any other course of action. They went through the dim, warm halls of the palace to another door, this one tall enough that Bel did not have to duck at all.

Inside the light was brighter, almost as bright as sunlight. Dozens of the little floating lights bobbed about the room, which held several large sets of shelves, and those shelves…When Oisin realized what was on the shelves, he gasped. The room was full of books. Not only the one or two that a well-off townsman might treasure or the dozen or so that the church had, but dozens upon dozens of them. Hundreds even. And not just books but scrolls and well, and boxes piled up with sheaves of paper and parchment. Oisin even saw what looked like clay tablets stacked here and there on the lower shelves. The whole room was stuffed to the brim with words.

“Most of these will be beyond your reading unless you also speak Latin,” said Bel, smiling at Oisin’s expression of shock and wonder. “Many more are in neither your tongue nor in Latin. Some are in languages no longer spoken in your world. But there are a few you may be able to r******w, and I will see about teaching you to read the rest.”

“There are so many,” breathed Oisin. “I didn’t know there were so many books in all the world.”

Bel chuckled. “There are a great many more books in the world than these, though I think I do have most of what has actually been written in Gaelic. But here, there is one in particular I wish to show you.” He went to a particular shelf and took a book down from it. The cover was faded brown, like most of the books, but it had no title on it anywhere. He held it out to Oisin. “Take a look at it. Tell me what you think of it.”

Oisin opened it to a random page. The books he’d learned to read on were all written in careful, even, rounded letters, copied out by scribes or monks. This book was obviously an original, for no copyist would be so sloppy. The handwriting was spidery, sprawling, and difficult to decipher in places. Combined with Oisin’s limited experience with reading he had to carefully puzzle through nearly every word.

The page he’d opened it to seemed to be a set of instructions, describing preparing a particular herb, and as he read, he felt his brows furrowing. He looked up at Bel. “It’s a recipe book?”

“In a manner of speaking. Keep reading.”

Oisin flipped to the previous page, looking for a heading or some other indication of what the recipe was for. He immediately found one, written at the top of the page in slightly larger letters than the rest, and his eyes went wide. A Potion to Cause a Woman to Feel Lust, it said. “It’s a spell book?” gasped Oisin.

“Indeed.” Bel smiled. “I am curious to see if you have any aptitude for it.”

“Me? Do magic?”

“Perhaps. You have the old blood in you, and there’s a trace of divine blood in those lines. So it’s possible you’ve enough of the gift. There are other things needed as well, but they can all be learned if one is determined enough. As I will not have to begin by teaching you your letters, I’m inclined to try.”

Oisin stared up at Bel, then down at the book in his hand.

“Keep it. Look over it and choose a spell you’d like to learn. Consider that choice your first assignment.”

Oisin nodded, unable to vocalize a response.

“Now there is another matter I must tend to, and as you are the cause of it, I believe you should be present also. Set the book aside for now.”

Oisin set the book down on the nearest shelf before more trailing in Bel’s wake, with his stomach suddenly twisting with nervousness. They walked along a seemingly endless series of corridors. Oisin felt disoriented, he had no idea of where anything within the palace was, but eventually they went through a door and were once again in the garden courtyard. Bel continued to stride, with Oisin trotting at his heels, from there along the path to the standing stones.

He halted before the stone doorway and spoke again in that other language. Oisin noticed this time that there was a rhythm to his words, as if they were a poem.

Rainbow light shimmered over the stones. As Oisin watched, the scene beyond seemed to ripple back and forth between showing the night of Bel’s home to a daytime scene of bright gold and blue.

“Come.” Bel took Oisin’s hand and stepped forward. Oisin felt that tingling pass over and through him again, and then he and Bel were standing in front of a wooden doorway, looking out on a field of rippling golden wheat. It stretched to the horizon unbroken, with no road crossing it, no tree interrupting it, no hills in the distance, even. Only the wheat, golden and ripe, stretching out forever. The sky above was crystal clear, an expanse of palest blue with not so much as a wisp of cloud to be seen. The sun was directly overhead and shone down brilliantly.

Bel dropped Oisin’s hand. When Oisin looked up at him his expression seemed pained. He squinted against the brilliant sunlight that streamed down with almost punishing heat. Oisin remembered what he’d said about not being friends with the sun. Bel looked out of place here amid all this gold and light, with his black robes and his silver hair and his pale skin that now seemed stark, unnatural, washed out.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bel drew in a deep breath, and his expression smoothed out somewhat, though he still squinted a little. He turned around, and despite them having just come through it, the doorway behind them now held a closed door within it. It was set in the side of a little cottage, which sat alone amid the wheat, looking very strange with no road leading to it, no garden beside it. Bel lifted a knocker in the shape of a wheat sheaf and tapped it on the door thrice.

The door swung open, and standing in it was a woman. She was tall for a woman, being nearly a head taller than Oisin, but still shorter than Bel. Her skin was as golden as the wheat, and so was her hair. Her eyes were a few shades darker than that honey-brown. She wore brown too, from head to toe, and her dress was embroidered with wheat sheaves in bright gold thread. Her figure was matronly, broad-hipped, and heavy-breasted, and her hair fell nearly to the ground in long golden waves. Her eyes widened as she looked up at Bel and a broad smile split her face, showing perfect white teeth.

“Shamash! It’s been a long century or two since I last saw you by the sun’s light.”

“Rhianna.” Bel gave her a half bow.

“So we’re using our new names now? Very well, Belinos. But who is this mortal trailing behind you like a lost puppy?”

“They are hardly new by now. And this is Oisin. He is my…apprentice.”

Rhianna laughed, the sound rich and hearty. “You have not lost your sense of humor, I see. But what brings you here? I don’t expect you’ve come out from your solitary night just to introduce me to a human boy.”

“I owe a debt to the people who were once mine. Some of them are yet, it seems. They have sacrificed to me, and I accepted their sacrifice. But I lack the power to make their crops flourish after years of famine.”

“Ah.” She looked between Bel and Oisin, and there was a knowing expression on her face. “So. What will my old…friend give me to settle his debts?” Her eyes flicked back to Oisin again and she grinned. The expression should have been warm and friendly on her round-cheeked, matronly face, but something about it was hard, dangerous. “I might take a human boy, perhaps. Human life has some value.”

Bel shook his head. “No.”

She laughed again. “I see. Alas, there is nothing in particular I need from a god of blood and shadow just now.”

“Your answer is no, then?”

“I didn’t say that! Why don’t you just owe me a favor? I’m sure eventually I’ll want your help on some minor matter.” She smiled again, and her strangely hard smile seemed more dangerous still.

Bel looked at her for a long time, then he gave one brief nod. “Very well.”

Rhianna laughed in delight. “Marvelous! I will give your little village a harvest such as they’ve never seen, then!”

“Thank you.” Bel’s response was calm, courteous, but a little cold. Rhianna laughed again.

“Expect me at your door to reclaim my favor, Belinos. Not too soon, but not too late.” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek, then gave Oisin a wink and stepped back, closing the door behind her.

Bel let out a long sigh and rubbed his forehead. “Let us return.” He caught Oisin’s hand again, and a moment later they’d stepped through the door and were back in the cool nighttime of Bel’s hilltop home. Oisin looked up at Bel, who stood a little straighter, the lines of strain on his face vanishing. He sighed again, and this time it was a sigh of what sounded very much like relief.

“Was that really Rhianna?” asked Oisin, feeling daring, but also curious.

Bel looked down at him. “I suppose that depends on what you mean by ‘really’, my little deer. But yes. That was the goddess of grain, and motherhood, and life.”

Oisin shook his head, feeling confusion and awe war in him. Nothing was the way he’d expected it to be.

“Why should that surprise you? Is my own presence so ordinary, then?”

Oisin blinked. “It’s not that, sir. You are…” He stopped, his mind providing things he couldn’t actually speak. Beautiful beyond words. Alien and human at once. Cold and warm and confusing, and the most confusing thing of all is that your presence seems comforting and welcome even while it’s also strange and unnerving. “In old Firas’ stories you were always our god, the god that had always protected our village and not others. You belonged to us. But Rhianna is the goddess of life everywhere in the whole world, isn’t she?”

Bel chuckled. “Your tales were both right and wrong about me, and also about her. Rhianna is not a goddess of all the world. But it’s true that a great deal of it has lain within her power at one time or another. For the time being all that truly matters is that she has the ability to end the famine that plagues your people.”

Oisin still looked up at Bel, at that calm, inhuman, handsome face. He knew he might not fully understand what Bel had just done, but he knew enough to know that promising an unspecific favor to such a powerful being could cause him a great deal of trouble. “Thank you, sir.”

Bel looked back, his expression unreadable. At length he said, “I honor my bargains. Now come, I am weary after all that sunlight. Let us retrieve your spell book, and you can read, while I take my rest.”