Dovetail

Chapter 28

Hetcha

Looking at the contract I felt a little ill. It was such a deceptively simple process to receive and review one. Two neat little options letting me instantly agree or refuse. Even so, it was difficult for me to sit and simply read it. Every fiber of my being was shouting at me to accept but I waited for Mira to finish reading hers so she could look at mine. A day earlier and I wouldn’t have even considered agreeing to serve the Hermit.

I didn’t dislike clever people. Mira was the smartest person I’d ever met in the mage's tower. I’d fallen in love with that intellect as much as her dimples. The problem was that the Hermit was tricky, outfoxing us both with an ease that seemed more than magical. I disliked that. It reminded me of the stories every kit was told of evil creatures. The kind that was hungry for anything they could take from the unwary.

It was the temple that clouded my mind and pulled at me like a lodestone even as I tried to sit and read. I had a crude pendant on my spear in the worship of Lorrel. My mother had dared to craft an effigy of clay, but I’d never seen anything bearing a true likeness. Lorrel, mother of my people, serpent slayer. In that place, I’d found her and looked upon her majesty for the first time in my life.

I’d found it while walking in the valley and been in such awe that I’d mistaken the carving on the door for a shrine. One too marvelous for me to have envisioned even in my wildest thoughts. When I finally realized that I was looking at a door and entered, I’d fainted on seeing the statues. Many times my height they were and carved so well I thought the fabric of her loincloth would sway in a breeze.

Religion had never been a central part of my life before the chaining. In the long years of migration by my people, we’d lost much, and the ways of her worship had been among them. After that its tenuous place in my heart had degraded further.

Despite that, I felt a fire kindle in me as I thought of the sacred place that I had found in the valley. Even if I had to crawl the length of the desert on my knees, I did not want to be separated from it. Unlike the crude figures and icons, it held the promise of reclaiming that lost knowledge.

“Chacha? What’s wrong? You’ve been strange since you came back from your walk,” Mira asked. Her tone told me it wasn’t the first time she’d spoken to me. She only used that nickname when she was worried.

“We can put this off if you want. I’m sure 42 won’t mind,” She said. I shook my head on instinct, not wanting to risk the Hermits goodwill.

“Really, what is going on with you?” She asked, her worry only increasing in the face of my strange attitude.

“I found a temple to Lorel nearby,” I said. It wasn’t enough of an explanation, but I didn’t have the words to explain what I was feeling. Instead, I took Mira by the hand and guided her out into the night. She grabbed up one of the lanterns from the house as we left, and I smiled. I was always forgetting how poor her night vision was in general, let alone compared with mine.

No one was exactly sure why, but all sage’s eyesight began degrading when they entered training. In time it left them completely. Even knowing that would happen, I didn’t feel any piety. As her powers expanded, she’d learn to see in other fantastic ways I could never hope to. If anything, I was a little envious when I had a spare moment to imagine the wonders she’d experience.

When we arrived at the stairs leading to the plaza, I heard her gasp. The statues of goat horned horses that lined it were life-sized and intimidating. More so than in daylight as the light of the lamp and shadows played to make them seem almost alive.

I was too excited to let her take them in and we continued, pausing only at the doorway before entering. The light of the lantern reached the top of the statues within the temple but left the rest in shadow. Standing in there presence we held hands and took in their beauty.

“I want to stay here, because of this,” I said after a while. There was no way to know what I’d find out if anything, but the idea consumed me. It left me compromised and unable to trust my own judgment.

“Talk to the hermit about it, and I’ll have your back,” Mira assured me, giving my hand a small squeeze.

“Alright, but… I might anger her. I’d want this to become a place for my people to rally around,” I said, wondering how many of my kind were still free. The number in Stromholt hadn’t been the majority, but our country was small and shared a border.

When Stromholt had started its expansion efforts it had likely struck there. Unless I was missing some clue it had most likely happened around the time of the chaining. It was likely that the number remaining small. That didn’t mean that the hermit would want a flood of refugees entering her peaceful valley.

“If what she’s said so far is true, I don’t think that will be the case. Even if she refuses,” Mira said after a few moments of consideration.

“If she does get angry, then she isn’t worth serving,” Mira added, and I nodded. She was better at understanding others than I was, and it was a valid point. How the hermit reacted to unfavorable requests would be as important. More so than how she behaved in general when you got down to it.

We walked back to the farmhouse and went to bed early. I laid in the dark for a while with my thoughts. It was hard to figure out exactly what I wanted to say. A symptom of the fact that I didn’t know exactly what I wanted. Even if the hermit agreed to let refugees enter the valley there wasn’t enough shelter for them. They’d be coming in varying states of bad shape if at all. Without trade or natural resources, they’d have to endure the weather under tarps if they had even that much.

I fell asleep worrying about it and woke up tired but determined. After eating breakfast, I requested some writing tools. Not long after a very nice set was left in front of the door.

“Mistress Hermit… Mistress 42?” I muttered as I tried to write out what I would say on a bit of parchment. I’d already jotted down a few main points but composing the actual speech was another matter.

“She did say we could call her 42. It’s not polite to use a title once someone does,” Mira offered. I nodded before writing that bit down. Wearing a tunic, she was sitting with her legs over the arm of an overstuffed chair while she ate an apple.

“Damn it! I might as well just ask her to build a town,” I said, raking both hands through my hair.

“Well, I don’t think she can do that. Even so, if you get permission, I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Mira said. She tried to look confident despite the unreasonable task. I smiled at her, appreciating the support.