91. Preparations for a Dangerous Hunt III (Patreon)

The ritual room under the lodge was lit by a small fire. The merchant Imsiikila walked around the room to examine the tapestries and read the stories they told. He was a thick-set man, and wore a dusky-orange vest over a blue blouse and dark blue, almost-black, pants. His hat was more of a cap with a gold tassel wound around it. He was also the first person I met on this world with mutton chops.

Mumu prepared tea for our meeting. The rest of the hunters had all long gone home, it being eleven at night. Not that this meeting was secret--we’d told everyone that we were interested in a trading arrangement with Imsiikila’s Family. The excuse was even true. The only thing we hid was what we were trading.

Imsiikila turned around and caught me watching him. “People don’t trust a skinny merchant,” he said, gesturing to his body. “We need to appear prosperous in addition to being prosperous.”

“And the--” I didn’t know the Diaksh words, so I pointed to the sides of his face.

He smiled, clearly proud of his mutton chops. “These help me to be remarkable. And what’s remarkable makes me memorable and easier to recall when a client is in need.”

“‘So it’s all a performance?” I asked.

“Performance with a dash of truth,” Imsiikila said. “I could’ve chosen another way to be memorable, but the mutton chops were mine.”

“I met Uncle Kila two years ago,” Mumu said, pouring each of us a cup. “Inleio introduced us. I’d found a goba plant, fully ripened, and needed someone trustworthy to sell it.” She grinned at the memory, so the sale must’ve turned out well. Very well, if the size of the grin was any indicator.

“And so it begins. The players are ready,” Imsiikila said, settling down by the fire. “What do you have for me this time, my dear Mumu? Another goba plant? The precious heart of some terrible creature? Eh?”

Mumu glanced at me, and I took it as my cue. The pouch I placed in front of the merchant was only half full. The eilesheile was just too good a seasoning; delicious on a level where I had to hide the pouch from myself or else I’d put it on everything I cooked.

I could always go back to the Cave of Origins for more--the eilesheile was easy enough for Yuki to process--but I didn’t want to eat up my fortune. Not all of it anyway.

Imsiikila raised an eyebrow hefting the pouch. “Light.” There wasn’t enough light to see inside, so he poured a bit of the dried eilesheile into the palm of his hand.

“Ah, it’s real,” Mumu said in awe. “I mean, I believed you, Eight, but it’s really real.”

Imsiikila was silent. His only reaction was a slight trembling of his hand. “Is this what I think it is?”

“Eilesheile, yes. It’s already been processed, so you’re welcome to taste it if you’d like to make sure.”

“Taste? Taste? Are you mad?” A drop of sweat ran down Imsiikila’s forehead. He carefully poured the eilesheile back into the pouch. “With this amount, an alchemist can make ten qi potions, priced at ten eltaak each. Why would one waste any by eating it?”

I must’ve had a guilty expression, because Mumu gulped. “Eight, you didn’t.”

Imsiikila’s eyes closed, the pain of lost profits evident on his face..

It was my turn to sweat. “Just a little. I’d heard it was delicious. But don’t worry...there’s more.”

Imsiikila’s eyes snapped open. “There’s more? Truly? It’s not just this pouch?”

“Before I answer, I need to know if we’re going to deal.”

“Ah, yes. Of course. My apologies for rushing. I was surprised.” Imsiikila leaned back and took a breath to compose himself. “As I said, the Alchemist’s lodge should be able to produce ten qi potions from this amount of eilesheile, each worth ten eltaak. That is a grand total of five antaak. Do you follow?”

I gestured for him to continue.

“The eilesheile is not the only ingredient in the potion, but it is the most rare. Understand that this is secret information not shared by the alchemists, but as a merchant it behooves me to study the lists of materials they buy and what is produced soon afterward. I share this information with you as a token of trust.”

“So how much do the alchemists pay for the eilesheile?” Mumu asked, her voice eager.

“The last I heard, it was an eltaak per potion.”

“So we’d ask for half a gold coin for the pouch?” I asked, running the numbers.

“That is if it was only this pouch, but if we could offer a larger supply…” Imsiikila trailed off, clearly fishing for an answer.

“We can.”

“And even more if it was a steady, permanent supply…”

“We can.”

Imsiikila breathed in deeply and rapidly blinked, his eyes bright. “I heard you were an orphan, my dear, precious Eight. Do you long for a Family? A life larger than this village affords? I can--”

“Stop.” I lifted a hand to cut him off. “I have no interest in radically changing the circumstances of my life. I have a Family already, though it is an irregular one.”

“A shame,” Imsiikila said. “I, however, will respect your wishes. But if you should change your mind--”

“Eight, you wouldn’t,” Mumu said, downcast.

“No, I wouldn’t,” I said reassuring her. “Now, if you please, Imsiikila. How much?”

“You must call me Uncle Kila. We are going to be partners after all. As for how much: a steady, permanent supply of eilesheile…” He cleared his throat and wiped his brow. “It will need negotiation, but upward of two eltaak per potion.”

“You think you can get double?” I asked, dubious.

After a pause to further consider the matter, Imsiikila nodded.

“And how much would your portion be?”

“Ten percent, non-negotiable. That is already my best rate, and only because you bring such a fine deal. I will be able to leverage it for more business with the Alchemist’s lodge.” Imsiikila looked me in the eyes. “See, that is another piece of information I share with you. Another token of trust.”

I looked to Mumu, and she nodded in agreement. “Ten percent is fair. We have a deal.”

Uncle Kila laughed, slapping his knee with joy. “Excellent! Most excellent! Now, tell me, how much can you deliver and how often? No, wait, first you must tell me that you’re not participating in the lightning bear’s hunt. I can’t bear the thought of you in danger.”

“Uh, I’m participating.” I stopped Uncle Kila from interrupting. “You can’t change my mind.”

“Then is there someone else who knows where the eilesheile is? I assume it's a living colony given your ability to reliably supply it.”

“Yes, it’s a living colony. And yes, there’ll be another person who knows the location.” Well, Yuki may not count as a person, but my plan was for a portion of them to remain behind during the King’s hunt. They’d tell Billisha the location if something happened to me.

“You wouldn’t consider sharing the information with me?” Uncle Kila asked.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.”

Uncle Kila’s grin turned wry. “Fair enough. We are still new to our relationship. But if there’s anything I can do, you must only ask. I will demonstrate my trustworthiness to you.”

“There is something,” I said. “Actually, two things. First, if I can get a pile of eilesheile to you in a hurry, can you purchase lightning protection potions? And second, I’d like to buy the lightning bear’s core after the hunt.”

“Ah, you are cautious and ambitious, two qualities not often seen together.” Uncle Kila smiled in appreciation. “To answer your questions, the bear’s core is easy to arrange, assuming a successful hunt. All that’s required is a fair price for the Hunter’s Lodge. As for the potions, I reserved two from the Alchemist’s Lodge already, thinking to sell them to the wealthier hunters in the village. That left only one potion in their stores. They might be able to make more, but it would depend on their supplies.”

“I’ll buy the two from you and four more if they’re available.”

“Little Pot?” Mumu asked.

“For the team,” I answered. “I care about you all, and if it’s within my means to protect you, I will.”

Mumu pulled me into a hug. “You’re such a good child.”

Uncle Kila coughed to get our attention. “The cost is one antaak and four eltaak for the six lightning protection potions. Are you sure?”

I escaped from Mumu’s hug to ask a question in return. “What’s money if one’s not alive to spend it?”

“Cautious, ambitious, and wise. Won’t you please join my Family? No, stop. You don’t need to protest. I see your loyalty too. I withdraw my question and will do as you ask.” Uncle Kila sighed.

“Who is the sixth potion for?” Mumu asked.

“Inleio,” I said.

And that was enough. Mumu nodded in understanding.

Inleio was the lodge’s most potent fighter and an important point of stability for the village. He also had a grudge against the King of the Forest, and from what I’d seen of the man, I knew that an encounter between the two was unavoidable.

“I understand,” Uncle Kila said. “Let us work out the logistics of our agreement. Timetable of deliveries, payments, and so on.”

“Mumu will be our point of contact,” I said. “She’s my partner in this.”

“There’s going to be a lot of money coming to us,” she said. “I was thinking we could use Bindesei’s treasure as cover.”

Ah, that was a good idea! It’ll explain how we were able to afford the potions, as well as any other expensive purchases we make in the future. Clever, Mumu. Very clever!

“What’s this?” Uncle Kila asked. “A treasure?”

And so, I told Uncle Kila about the sugar maker’s ghost and the hunt for his killer. I spared him the details though, as they weren’t meant to be shared yet.

I was partway through the story when an epiphany hit me--I realized how to communicate with Bindesei’s ghost about his killer.

###

The next day, the ballistae crews put on a demonstration just outside the village. The atmosphere was boisterous, with adults and children shirking their work to attend. The weapon crews handled the attention without any issues, and smoothly sent several five-foot bolts downrange. Their targets were the archery butts the militia used for training.

They had different bolts for different purposes--screamers, slashers, bashers--but they mostly demonstrated the stingers. They let me take a closer look, and the ones used in the demonstration were beat up and dull. The real ammo was safely stored under an oiled cloth.

Cassisia, their captain, then invited the Hunter’s Lodge to demonstrate their skills. That’d been arranged in advance, and both Mumu and Haol were ready with their weapons. First, they sent arrows at the butts, which was then followed by a friendly competition with their spears.

Did the two of them have a tiff? Mumu seemed to take a little too much pleasure in jabbing at Haol with her spear. It was all the man could do to avoid the blunted spearhead.

When they were done, I asked her if everything was all right.

Mumu nodded in response, but she had a glint in her eye. “My future husband has been too nosy of late. While a certain amount of interest is flattering, we are not yet married. But do not worry. Dena and I set him in his place.”

“I’m not worried,” I said. “You know your people better than I do.”

That vote of confidence seemed to brighten her mood, and the two of us strolled through the village gate to attend a village-wide lunch hosted by the Hunter’s Lodge. The main course was an elk stew, served alongside greens sauteed in lard and a corn pudding.

The food was delicious, but I didn’t overeat. The rest of the day’s schedule consisted of intense training, and I didn’t want to throw it all back up later.

###

I stayed for another full day; stocking up on milk, sugar, lard, barley flour, cornmeal, salt, and smoked turkey before heading back to the glen. I also made arrangements to meet with Mumu at the sugar shack later.

The route home was familiar, and the going much easier now that I could recognize which parts of the forest were uneasy and which were not. With my spirit eyes open, I felt a new depth to the land.

When the trees swayed, it was my own lungs breathing. When the birds flew, my hair ruffling. An itch that needed scratching turned out to be a bishkawi beating its hands on the trunk of a tree.

I watched him from hiding, but I never figured out why.

11 silverlight gathered. 10 absorbed.

###

When I arrived at the glen, Ikfael greeted me with open arms. Not for a hug though--she wanted my backpack to see what was inside. The bishkawi carcass on the improvised travois was obvious.

“Are you making donuts?” Ikfael asked.

I smiled. She was clever, our Ikfael. “That’s right. I have something for which I’d like to exchange.”

Ikfael sniffed a smoked turkey leg, her brows rising in surprise at the scent. “Include this and I’ll listen to your request.”

That didn’t bother me at all. I was going to give it to her anyway, just for the sake of seeing an otter eating a smoked turkey leg. “Um, sure. That’s fair.”

Ifkael nibble, nibble, nibbled the turkey leg. She tore chunks free and chewed, her little jaw working the meat. Ah, it was just as precious as I’d imagined.

She gestured to indicate that I should continue, and I cleared my throat. “I’d like your permission to invite a ghost to the glen...”

The plan was simple really, and I kicked myself for not thinking of it earlier.

The god Tenna’s gift blocked communication with the dead--verbal, written, and signed. Bits of pantomime worked, as did simple crude drawings, but the line at which the gift took effect was blurry, involving a mix of intention, complexity of thought, and something else which I couldn’t quantify. No doubt there were spiritual rules at work of which I knew nothing.

In any case, the dead could see me and the world around them. They bore witness to its everyday events. So why not act out the events of Bindesei’s murder?

Ikfael readily agreed in exchange for a dozen donuts, and I headed to the sugar shack later that night. The outing served as my practice session for the day, as well as an errand to retrieve Bindesei’s ghost.

Along the way, I once again regretted the lack of the Night Eyes spell, but consoled myself with the knowledge that Spark was improving my feel for lightning qi. It’d be my next spell choice though. I promised myself. In the meantime, I used a mix of enchantment and spirit eyes to travel by moon and starlight.

The sugar shack was the same as I’d last left it, except for a simple barrier at the gate to keep animals out. I caught a glimpse of Mumu’s spirit as she kept watch from hiding.

“Mumu,” I whispered, letting the land go.

“Here,” she whispered back. “Did all go well with the spirit of Ikfael Glen?”

“Yes, she agreed to intercede with Bindesei’s ghost. We just have to lead him there.”

Mumu moved the barrier aside and waved me in. In the distance, I heard an owl hoot, and I rushed to get inside. The bird didn’t sound big, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

“Well?” Mumu asked. “Is Bindesei here?”

The compound was empty--the faint scent of an old fire clinging to the ruined buildings. I walked around the compound and confirmed that there was no sight of the sugar maker’s ghost.

“Maybe where we found his body?” I said.

Mumu nodded and led the way. She had the Night Eyes spell, and we traveled faster as result. While she broke the path for us, I kept watch for owls and other predators. Mumu knew that my hair could change, so I let Yuki out more than usual to help.

We found Bindesei’s ghost sitting across from his body’s remains. There were only bones left, broken and scattered by scavengers. He contemplated them with an expression--a posture, a feeling in the air--that was sober and sad. The intense anger that was there before had drained away, leaving him... tired.

Mumu exchanged positions with me, so that I could put the bones back in order. It took time to assemble the pieces of the most macabre of jigsaw puzzles, but the end result was worth it. The heaviness in the air dissipated, and there was a hint of gratitude in its place.

When I looked up, Bindesei’s attention was on me. I gestured that he should follow. Mumu and I switched positions again, and she led the way to Ikfael Glen.

###

Ikfael was waiting for us, but in the giant water form she’d used on the solstice. It was how she presented herself to the people of Voorhei. I knew what to expect, so I knelt alongside Mumu. What was surprising was that Bindesei’s ghost also knelt.

Ikfael began the show. She gestured, and water rose from the pool to take the shape of the sugar maker. She’d never seen him before, so she based his appearance on his ghost. He looked like a character from a black and white film that’d been colorized; Ikfael doing her best to imagine his appearance as he’d been in life.

I watched Bindesei’s ghost. He leaned forward in surprise, and then rocked back as Ghitha also arose out of the water. Shock, disbelief, confusion--his face contorted from emotion to emotion, as he watched the events of the night play out. As he saw himself stabbed in the back.

Ikfael spent the whole afternoon and evening preparing, and it showed in the details. Her stories were usually fun, with lots of adventure and excitement. The death of Bindesei though--this story carried an intensity missing from her others.

It was the story of a senseless death, a death for nothing more than being in the wrong place and the wrong time. No, that wasn’t right. The death came even though he was in the right place and the right time. Bindesei had been home after all. And death came to call none-the-less.

That was the first part of the story. The second part began with Inleio interrogating me about the murders, and it ended with Borba’s punishment and Ghitha’s eventual death. This section didn’t have the same intensity as the first, but Bindesei remained engrossed throughout. His expression was… hungry.

Yeah, it’d be best if I wrapped this situation up soon and helped him move on. Hungry ghosts were never good.

“Could...could I--”

I’d ignored Mumu during the performance, but I turned to her now. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“Could I see that again? If I brought gifts in exchange? The story was so, so beautiful. I’ve seen a mummer’s play once, in Albei, but it was nothing like this.” Mumu grabbed me by the arm. “Do you think so? Could you ask?”

I was so focused on Bindesei’s situation, it took a moment to switch gears and understand what she was saying; to understand that I’d just introduced Mumu to cinema.

Ikfael’s form disappeared into the pool with a splash, and Mumu’s face fell. Such devastation. The story was done, and there’d be no more tonight.

“Mumu, I need you to focus. Let’s deal with Bindesei and his treasure first, and then we can talk about asking this boon of Ikfael Glen.”

Mumu got herself together. “Yes. Right. The treasure. Of course. I was just… just never mind. Will Bindesei’s ghost show us the treasure’s location now?”

Said ghost looked more solid than he had before. He pointed to where Ghitha stood last, and made a stabbing motion. I nodded in response, and the meaning seemed to carry. He then looked around the glen, as if to remember this moment, and gestured for us to follow.

###

Turns out that Bindesei was heading to collect his treasure on the night of his death. We found it buried under an old oak tree not a hundred yards from where he’d been stabbed. The chest was about a foot long and a foot wide--not quite a pirate’s booty, although it was buried deep enough for one.

The interior didn’t disappoint. We cracked the lid and saw a pile of silver coins and the glimmer of a few gold ones too. Mumu giggled like a little girl, and well, maybe I did too.