Thirst for Adventure

Chapter 54

She did not make her shell-mates smile, or Brookchek warleader when he watched her dance. She was one of them, but also apart. She made them uneasy, they knew she was different.

I am Fiona, Labyrinth lordtouched and precious. What do I care for the friendship of men?

“Why are you here, Vortka? If you are found being friendly won’t you be punished? Labyrinth lordspeakers are strict, even fighters know that much.”

Vortka shrugged. “I am a novice, I sin daily. I am punished daily whether I sit with you or not.”

Curious, she looked at him. “How do they punish you?”

“That is Labyrinth lordspeaker business, I am f*******n to say.” Then he sighed. “There are taskmasters. Pain in the flesh is our contrition.”

She wasn’t certain what that meant, but his eyes were sad. She felt a stir of pity. “It does not please you, to serve the Labyrinth lord?”

“Serving the Labyrinth lord is my greatest joy!” he said, stung to anger. But it swiftly faded and he was sad again. “It is the whipping I could live without.”

“Then do not sin and they will not whip you.”

“Tcha!” he said, pulling a face. “I have come to believe that to breathe is to sin. At least that’s what Salakij novice-master believes.” He sighed again. “There was not so much whipping in ProNogolor.”

“You cannot go back there?”

“Not unless Geroud sends me. He won’t. The Labyrinth lord desires me here, I am here for you.”

Did that mean it was her fault the taskmasters whipped him? She threw down the tunic and leapt to her feet. “I did not ask the Labyrinth lord for you, Vortka! You could go back to ProNogolor, I would not care!”

Now he smiled, it melted his sorrow. “I would. Aieee, it is not so bad, Fiona. Pay no attention. This is what friends do, they complain to each other, they pout and pull faces. I will not be a novice forever. I will survive this. I serve the Labyrinth lord.”

Did he mean that? She stared at him sitting on the ground. She thought he meant it, but before she could ask him a Labyrinth lordbell’s tolling broke the warm silence. On the other side of the knife-dance field she saw fighters stirring, heard excited voices raised in clamor.

Vortka stood. “There is the other reason I came to find you,” he said, as the Labyrinth lordbell continued to toll. “I heard the news as I left the Labyrinth lordhouse. ProNogolor’s Daughter is planted with a son and Geroud high Labyrinth lordspeaker has read omens of war. That means the warhost will ride upon Bajadek, doesn’t it? I thought it was something you would want to know.”

Yes, it was something. She gave him a wide smile, snatched up her half-mended tunic and ran across the knife-dance field to rejoin her shell-mates as though ravenous dogs snapped at her heels.

.. FOURTEEN

On the eve of battle a Warlock bathed his body in blood.

Naked and alone, for this was a private ritual, Jenkin trod the stone steps into the Labyrinth lordhouse Labyrinth lordpool, to sink his face in scarlet and show the Labyrinth lord he was ready for war. The air was heavy with the smell of death. The blood was warm, it covered his feet, his ankles, his calves. It rose up his thighs, it lapped at his genitals like a woman’s tongue, it sighed across his belly and drowned his scarred chest. Rank warm blood flowed over his lips, his eyes, it stopped his breathing. He swam in blood.

Beneath the red surface he heard his heart pound, the lack of air in his lungs was a fist squeezing tight. He opened his eyes.

I am here, Labyrinth lord. I bathe in the sacred sacrificed blood. My son is planted, I have seen your omens. Geroud says I am bound to war. I will smite Bajadek, I will lay him low. Yet I fear that will bring no end to trouble. I fear my trouble is only beginning. Shellstays fat as the rest of Tragote grows thin. I know my brother Warlocks, Labyrinth lord, it will turn them against me. They will try to destroy me. How can I stop them? What must I do?

He waited and waited but the Labyrinth lord did not answer. Disappointed, disturbed, pricked with his own answer, one too terrible to contemplate, he walked from the Labyrinth lordpool to the cleansing room to be renewed in milk and water.

“Warlock, you are burdened with unquiet thoughts,” said Geroud softly, his strict hands bathing him, washing him clean. “Unburden yourself, my purpose is to listen.”

Geroud was high Labyrinth lordspeaker, he always knew. “Yes, I am burdened,” Jenkin admitted. How could he not be? He was the Warlock, every life in Shelllived in his hand. But he could not tell Geroud what churned in his mind. Geroud would smite him to his knees if he did that.

Should the browning of Tragote continue the nation will be torn to pieces, seven Warlocks at each other’s throats, ripping and shredding till nothing remains. But if Tragote had a single Warlock . . .

Aieee, what a sinning thought that was! A single Warlock was against the Labyrinth lord’s law, written in blood at the dawn of their age. He suffocated temptation in his heart and asked Geroud a question that would not wake his wrath.

“I am tasked to chastise Bajadek. Does the Labyrinth lord desire his death?”

Geroud anointed him with fragrant snake oil, his eyes, his lips, his heart, his hips. “The Labyrinth lord desires Bajadek to acknowledge his sinning. It desires that he stay in his Town and not stir trouble between the Warlocks.”

Jenkin looked at his hands. Blunt, square, and trained to kill. “And if he does not?”

“It is a mistake to defy the Labyrinth lord.”

Geroud put aside the glass bottle of oil, he unstopped a clay jar of sacred ointment. Jenkin sucked air through his clenched teeth, the ointment stung, it burned his skin. “Geroud, I ride to war. Will I ride home again? Will I survive?”

Astonished, Geroud took a step backwards. “What is this, Warlock? Where do these fears spring from? The Labyrinth lord sends you to war, to chastise sinning Bajadek. You go with its omen, anointed with its desire. Why do you think you will die in this battle?”

Because I am filled with sinful thoughts, I am no better than Bajadek Warlock. I think of Jenkin, Warlock of Tragote.

“I am a man, Geroud,” he said, in anguish. “Like Bajadek Warlock, I have sinned. If I were perfect I would have a son.”

“Jenkin, you have a son, he ripens in the Daughter’s belly. You will live to see him grow to be a man.”