70. Truths and Visitations (Patreon)

We waited an hour beside the gap between boulders. I spent the time thinking about kevlar gloves, the kind used by veterinarians to deal with feral cats. Not that they’d actually protect my arms from something like a blynx’s claws...unless maybe they were stitched with small sections of iron? Like brigandine, but smaller? No, that’d make them too heavy. Bone might work, though. Or lacquered wood, like the samurai used.

The other thing I considered was the blynx’s ability to...well, blink. While merged with the uekisheile, I’d gotten a glimpse of a wave of intention meant to direct the flow of qi, but no matter how much I tried to recollect the pattern, it was a jumble. The connections between the dantian and the meridians were already severed when the wave hit.

The only hope for deconstructing and reconstructing the ability was to study the body, and I’d already made arrangements with my team--exchanging my share from the sale of the meat and hide for the skull and sternum. That’s where I’d felt the qi the strongest.

Bouncing between these two ideas while keeping an eye on the forest below, I waited with my teammates for the blynx to die.

###

We were on our way back to Voorhei when we ran into the hunters from Albei again. Teila and I carried the blynx’s remains split between us, but the dolbecs Agath and Moon dragged a travois behind them carrying a wolverine the size of a Volkswagen Beetle.

The fur was midnight black, except for a streak of white fur across the head. The claws were a foot long each and wicked sharp. Alive, the animal must’ve been death incarnate, and yet, it met its match in the team from Albei.

The dolbecs looked worn, their armor clawed, and I saw evidence of bandages underneath. The others strode through the forest untouched, though, proud of their kill.

“Don’t be too upset,” Banan said after greeting us, his gaze lingering on the blynx. “It’s not the size that matters. Any animal, no matter how small, has the potential to grow into a deadly killer.” His smile seemed sincere, but behind him Kuros smirked.

Mumu was out scouting ahead, so Tegen took it upon himself to respond. “The hunter who follows the path will never be led astray.”

Banan quirked his head, confused. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Aren’t we trading truths?” Tegen asked. “Would you like more? I have many. My favorite is this: imperfect stones line the path to perfection.”

Banan shook his head. “I wasn’t trading. I just wanted to comfort you. Your kill is smaller--”

“Yes, I know,” Tegen said. “And I was just trying to comfort you in return.”

“But I don’t need comforting,” Banan said, his confusion growing.

“Ah,” Tegen said, looking embarrassed on Banan’s behalf, as if there was scat in Banan’s hair and he didn’t realize it. “Then nevermind.”

Tegen turned towards Voorhei and gestured for us to follow along. When he was out of view of the Albei team, he signed, “One thing you should never do is to play the games of imbeciles. Follow your own path. Always.”

###

Inleio was outside the village gate to welcome the hunters and record the day’s events. There were more injuries than yesterday, the worst of which was a bad fracture of the femur. The injured hunter was an older woman. I recognized her from my initiation ceremony, but I didn’t know her well.

They’d given her corn liquor to help with the pain, but even so, her teammates had to hold her down to keep her still. There were tears in her eyes and a wooden dowel in her mouth to keep her from screaming. I rushed over to cast Anesthetic, and her body slumped with relief. Her breathing was still ragged, but at least she’d stopped writhing.

An older man worked quickly to arrange the bones before binding them. Another knelt nearby, faintly radiating qi. I recognized the scent of Nature’s Spring.

“How long will the spell last?”

I didn’t catch who asked me the question, as my focus was on the injury. I looked up and noticed that the whole team was sprinkled with gray hair. Their faces were stoic, but there was concern in their eyes.

“A minute for each cast,” I said.

“And how many casts?” The woman asking was lithe as a whip, and a scar ran down the left side of her face, the eye milky white. The others deferred to her.

“Five, but it’d be better to save a couple for my healing spell.”

She nodded. “You heard,” she said to tha man arranging the bones. “Three minutes, Ben.”

The name threw me, but a quick look with my Talent camera showed that his name was actually Benseisoo. The team leader was Kesalei.

Ben nodded, sweat rolling down his face, but his hands never stopped. After a minute, the injured woman started to groan, and I recast Anesthetic.

“The bone’s in three pieces,” Ben said, “but the breaks feel clean. I’ve put them together as best I could.”

Kesa turned to me. “I saw your healing spell yesterday. It needs bare skin, right?”

I nodded. “The water has to touch the body.”

“Go ahead. We’ll bind the leg after and cast Nature’s Spring too.” She looked around to count the hunters nearby. “Not everyone has returned, so you should save enough mana for one cast, in case there’s an emergency.”

My canteen was out of water, and I had to borrow Teila’s. She’d come up behind me to watch. The mana rose within me, the Healing Water rune transforming it from neutral and tasteless to cool and refreshing. I poured the water on the broken leg, and almost immediately the swelling started to go down. I couldn’t tell what was happening inside, but I’d experienced the spell healing my severest injuries in three casts. I believed that two would be enough to see the leg out of danger. Plus there’d be Nature’s Spring for aftercare.

When I was done, I stepped away to find a quiet place to meditate. Kesa made good sense when cautioning me to save mana in case there was another medical emergency, and I spent the next couple of hours meditating. Working together with the uekisheile, we could recover four points worth of mana every hour. Each of those four points was a cast of Healing Water.

Once all the hunters had returned, they did an inventory of the injuries, and I cast Healing Water three more times--one on a bad gash on a hunter’s arm and two on a puncture. Both were on the same team, arriving at the very end of the day.

“Is this typical?” I asked Tegen afterward. I couldn’t imagine that the hunt days were sustainable given the rate of injury.

He shook his head. “It’s not usually this bad. We were unlucky today. And with Woldec and Grunthen gone, the animals are getting bolder. They’re coming closer to the village than they used to. But don’t worry, apprentice, our spears are sharp and our hunters’ wits sharper. We will manage, as we always have.”

###

That evening, the Family’s meal was interrupted. It was Kesa and Ben stopping by to deliver a chicken as a thank you for the help earlier. They exchanged a few words with Bihei, but refused to join us for the rest of the meal. The colorful bird was added to Bihei’s flock, and I was just sitting down to eat when I heard another clap outside.

This time it was Inleio and Mumu. They wore serious expressions and came to talk about the Healing Water spell. I explained the situation--that I’d learned the spell from Ikfael Glen and wasn’t sure that it was appropriate to submit it to the Hunter’s Lodge without her permission--and they nodded at that. If permission was granted, though, and the spell allowed by the Healer’s Lodge, then it would be a huge boon for hunters everywhere. Nature’s Spring was powerful, but the spell had a fatal flaw, an inability to address trauma. Hunters sometimes died faster than the spell could heal.

We were discussing possible trades with Ikfael Glen when Sheedi showed up to talk about the spirit’s preferences for tribute. She wanted to make sure Ikfael saw the village in the best light possible and thus be amenable to the village building a shrine in the glen.

Poor Bihei and the kids scrambled to prepare food for the sudden guests. Inleio and the rest originally waved off from joining the meal, but the discussion dragged on and soon they were helping themselves to the stew and roasted vegetables.

And that’s about the time Banan and Otwei showed up. It wasn’t entirely clear why they came to visit, but I did catch an awkward glance between them when they saw Inleio and Mumu present. My guess was that they were interested in the Healing Water spell too. Fortunately, they didn’t stay long and didn’t spoil the taste of the food.

Once all the discussions were done, only Mumu lingered behind.

“You asked me to look into the Family of the ghost boy in the pyramid,” she said. “I found them. I told them we’d visit tonight or tomorrow.”

“Then let’s make it tonight,” I said. 

My preference was to leave for the glen early in the morning. I had to stop by the lodge to help with taking apart the blynx, but there was nothing else keeping me. The kids had done my shopping while I was out hunting, and I was now the proud owner of four large burlap bags. They were normally used when picking crops, but they’d work fine to hold the remains of Woldec and his Family.

“We won’t be long,” Mumu said to Bihei and the kids.

I followed her out into the warm evening. It must’ve been windy high up, because the clouds raced against the backdrop of the starry night. The breeze felt good, though, and carried with it the scents of cooking from the other longhouses. Not every house could afford candle stones, and those that didn’t, their windows flickered with the light from lit rushes.

We walked toward the southern wall, and the longhouses weren’t as well built here. The wind carried fewer animal sounds--some chickens and a goat or two. An elderly ox was left outside, and when we passed by I realized why. She was a flatulent old girl, the smell raising the hairs all along my arms.

Mumu grimaced at the smell. “We’re here.”

I clapped my hands outside their door. “It is Eight. I come with news of a Family member who died long ago.”

“And I am Mulallamu. I accompany Eight on this errand.”

Well, there wasn’t much more to say about what happened. The longhouse was in rougher shape than Bihei’s. The Family’s clothes weren’t as nice. The food was good, although I only had a bite for politeness’s sake.

The Family listened to the story of their great grand uncle who died during the darkest days. They heard how he still cared for his Family and wanted them to be well. The Family present had only heard of him, but they seemed comforted to know he’d moved on. They tried to offer me a reward (half a dozen eggs), but I refused. Looking at the Family’s kids, I knew they needed all the protein they could get.

One of the tykes came up to me and asked about ghosts. He wanted to see if there were any in the longhouse. His sister said there were, and that they would bite his toes if he didn’t do his chores. The adults all hid their smiles.

“Let me look,” I said. And why not? I became one with the land and looked around the longhouse.

A gray-feathered, red-eyed chicken stood by the food, fruitlessly pecking at the corn, but there were no other ghosts. We caught motion out of the corner of our eye though and stepped outside fast enough to see Bindesei’s ghost duck inside another longhouse.

The boy chased after me. “What’d you see? Was it a ghost?”

We nodded solemnly. “Yes, but not a scary one. This ghost rewards hard work. Also, there’s a ghost chicken, but she doesn’t seem to harbor any ill intentions.”

###

We stood out in the open. Mumu was with us, just outside the longhouse into which Bindesei had fled.

“You might as well come out,” we said. The words were meaningless to Bindesei, but we believed the intent would carry.

Bindesei came through the wall, their normally stubborn face looking sheepish. We were tempted to play with the word sheepish--a wonderful metaphor!--but a firm intention to focus arose from the portion of our consciousness that was Ollie/Eight.

The firmament of our consciousness shifted. Because we stopped before pefectly joining Ollie/Eight and the uekisheile, this unsteadiness was to be expected. We were a house settling. The lights turned on and off, highlighting one room and then another. We understood that every being contains multitudes, and the voices within grew or dimmed naturally. Our house was beautiful and becoming more so every day. We watched ourselves as much as the situation around us..

The last time we’d seen Bindesei, they’d come too close, and we pushed them away. Thankfully, they were unharmed. Our intention wasn’t to hurt them. They’d merely surprised us.

He surprised us. The thought arose out of Ollie/Eight’s room. We pushed him away. Yes, every being is constructed of multitudes, but those multitudes are unified under a singular I.

It was a curious concept and worth pondering. But not now, not when there was a ghost before us. 

Bindesei--their...his treasure was no longer necessary now that we knew we could farm the eilesheile, but the mystery of his murder was a puzzle we’d continued to ponder. Both Ollie/Eight and the uekisheile found puzzles fascinating. An itch that needed to be scratched.

Pleased with the metaphor, we asked, “Do you still want us to find your killer?”

That caught Bindesei by surprise. He nodded and responded in Signed Diaksh, but meaning refused to attach to the gestures. When we looked at Bindesei with confusion, he dropped his hands and nodded again.

“All right. We’ll continue our search, but in the future you must behave. If you don’t, there will be consequences you will not like.”

We felt Mumu stir beside us. Her eyes were shining. “He said yes, didn’t he?” She laughed. “Quick, ask him for proof that his treasure exists. An early payment is a gesture of good faith.”

We sighed. Our Mumu really was a money lover. We ignored the request and asked instead, “Do you have any knowledge that will help us find your killer? Can you lead us to them?”

Bindesei shook his head.The anger returned to his eyes.

“Well,” we said, “is there anything you can tell us at all?”

He tried Signed Diaksh again, but the effort was as useless as before.

“No, no. Not like that. Here, watch.” We gestured as if stirring a pot and tasting the contents. Then we pretended to walk down the street and run across someone we knew well, smiling and shaking their hand. And of course--how could we ignore the classic--we mimed being trapped inside a box, trying to find our way out.

“Little Eight, what exactly are you doing?” Mumu asked.

“Teaching Bindesei how to play charades.”

“Charades?”

“A game where one tries to communicate with gestures alone,” we said.

“But there is Signed Diaksh,” Mumu said.

“It doesn’t work thanks to Tenna’s Gift.”

Understanding dawned on Mumu’s face. On Bindesei’s too.

The ghost began by lying down and pretending to wake from sleep. He cupped a hand to his ear and carefully rose up to peek through a door, only to be startled. Bindesei hesitated, not seeming to know how to communicate what came next.

“What’s happening?” Mumu asked.

“He was sleeping when something woke him up.”

Bindesei must’ve realized that he could pretend to be people other than himself. He stepped outside the room and wore a cloak with the hood up. He gestured angrily. Then he stepped across from where he’d been and yelled back.

“There was an argument,” I said. “Between two people.”

Bindesei gestured, his hands rising and falling.

“One of the people was conducting a symphony.”

Bindesei shook his head and changed the way his hands moved.

“One of the people punched the air.”

The gesture changed again.

“He threw a spear. Plucked a chicken. Pretended to be Storm from the X-Men.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” Mumu said.

Ah, we’d accidentally switched to English in our excitement. Bindesei’s hands twinkled down and exploded along the way.

“It was raining and there was...lightning and thunder,” we said in Diaksh.

Bindesei nodded quickly and pretended to shoot the lightning from his hands.

“It was Grunthen! Gruthen was there!”

Bindesei clenched his hands in victory. He wasn’t pretending; just excited to have been heard.

“What about the other person? Who was he?”

Bindesei pretended to raise the hood over his head. He stepped forward and, when Grunthen had his back turned, stabbed him.

“Grunthen died,” we said, watching Bindesei mime the rest of the scene. “The hooded person fled, and then when Bindesei crept after them, he was caught by surprise and stabbed in the back. The hooded person had waited for him.”

“Bindesei doesn’t know who it was?” Mumu asked.

When we relayed the question, the ghost shook his head. “It was too dark and hard to see.”

“For there to have been an argument, Grunthen must’ve known his killer,” Mumu said.

“But why meet at Bindesei’s place?”

“It’s the only safe space outside the village,” Mumu said. “When teams operate to the west, they’ll use it as a fallback if something goes wrong with their hunt.”

“And we know something went terribly wrong on Grunthen’s hunt,” we said. “They ran into the lightning bear, the King of the Forest.” At the worst possible time too. If there truly was a lightning storm that night, the bear would’ve been in a frenzy.

“After killing Bindesei, the hooded person must’ve gone back to take care of Bindesei’s corpse,” we said.

Mumu nodded, following the logic. “And probably hoped that the lodge would assume that Grunthen died along with Woldec and the rest.”

We turned to Bindesei’s ghost. “Thank you. At least we have confirmation now about what happened to Grunthen. We’ll keep investigating to find your murderer.”

The anger didn’t leave the ghost’s eyes, but we did see it ease. We took a breath and let the land go.

“Who do you think did it?” Mumu asked.

“I should ask you that,” I said. “You know the people in the village much better than I do.”

“That’s the problem,” she said. “I find myself leaning in the direction of those I don’t like.”

“Well,” I said, “given the argument between Grunthen and his killer, the motive was something that generated a lot of emotion--fear, greed, hate, or rage. Those are usually the reasons people lash out against others. Hmm… love too, if they thought they were protecting someone.”

“Grunthen bragged more than he threatened,” Mumu said. “He was disliked, but not hated--he was too important to the village’s safety for that.”

“It bothers me that Grunthen survived when Woldec and the others didn’t. What if he ran away from the fight?” I asked.

Mumu considered the idea and nodded slowly. “That would anger Ghitha, yes. He would strike out if he could, but Ghitha is no hunter. He couldn’t kill Gruthen.”

“Even if it was by surprise?” I asked.

“Gruthen would’ve heard him approach, even in a storm.” Mumu shook her head. “You don’t know this, but Ghitha was barred from joining the Hunter’s Lodge, not by the lodge but by his parents. They were incensed that he didn’t inherit the Lightning-Touched Talent like his brother, and so they forced him into the Way of the Merchant. They bragged that if he couldn’t hunt, then he’d at least be of use to the hunters in the Family. Ghitha’s Skills are all related to trade.”

“And now there are no hunters left in their Family,” I said.

“That’s right. Only Ghitha’s left. It’s a tragedy for him and for the village.”

“And so financially--”

“Ghitha is wealthy, or he should be. How else can he afford to sponsor the hunters from Albei? They couldn’t have been cheap.” Mumu sighed. She had a dreamy look in her eyes. “Each must be getting several antaak for the month they’ll spend hunting the lightning bear.”

“Can he afford that?” I asked.

“He must,” Mumu said. “Whatever Ghitha is, he’s not stupid. He wouldn’t spend taak he couldn’t afford.”

“Not unless he expected to gain something of even more value,” I said.

“You can’t eat vengeance,” Mumu said, frowning.

That’s true, but what if one can get vengeance and a room full of eilesheile too? Wouldn’t that tempt a man?

“Supposedly, Kiertie had a knack for finding treasure,” I said. That was the sense I’d gotten from her daughter’s ghost. “It was the inspiration for Woldec’s expedition.”

“I’d heard that about Kiertie,” Mumu said, “but Borba would know for certain. His Family was originally Voorhoos, where she came from.”

“Then I’ll seek him out tomorrow before I leave for the glen.”

“You’re really leaving again?” Mumu asked.

“Ikfael Glen has become my home,” I said.

“And this,” Mumu said, gesturing to the quiet village around us. “Can’t it become your home?”

I thought about the question, giving it the consideration it was due. “Maybe. I expect there’ll come a day when both Ikfael Glen and Voorhei are home.”

“That’s well then.” Mumu smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. “Come, apprentice. Let’s go home. The day’s been long, and we’re both due a rest.”

Well, that was a truth if I ever heard one.