Chapter IV

The city of Nox sat on the western coast. It was here that a certain merchant dwelt. A truly unique merchant. Whereas most merchants would sell luxury goods, fine clothes, silk, spices, or jewelry, this merchant was the only one in all of Erets who sold her wares. Her name was Yashen, and she was known as “The Dream Merchant.”

“I want a dream,” a customer would say to her.

“You've come to the right place,” Yashen would say, as she produced a parchment and quill to write down his order. “Tell me, what manner of dream do you want?”

“Isn't it obvious? An old man like me? Sometimes I just wish I could be a child again. The priests of the gods of time tell me it is impossible to turn back the years, but perhaps I could re-live those days in a dream?”

“You want to relive happy memories? That's doable. So, you want a happy, nostalgic dream...specifically one that makes you feel like you had all of the vigor you had as a boy. I'll brew this dream up for you right away. Come back in one hour.”

Another customer would approach her, a small and shy young man. “You're the Dream Merchant, right? I want a dream where I can feel like a hero. I'm so weak...and I'm...well, a coward. I want a dream where I can be heroic. I want to defeat dastardly villains. I want the masses to praise me for my heroism. And...I want to win the heart of a beautiful woman.”

“A dream that makes you feel brave, strong, and accomplished. Finish off the fantasy with passionate lust. Come back in two hours and I'll have your dream ready.”

Still another customer would approach, with a vengeful look in her eye. “My husband has been unfaithful, but he doesn't know that I know. I want a potion I can slip into his wine which will give him the most terrible nightmare imaginable.”

“The potion needs to be almost tasteless. That's going to be difficult. Easy enough to fill his heart with fear, though. Come back tomorrow and I'll have the potion ready for you.”

In Yashen's lab, in the cellar, every wall was covered from floor to ceiling, corner to corner, with shelves, on which sat the various compounds she needed to brew dreams for her customers. Each one was labeled in code, a code that only she could understand, so that if a thief were to break in and attempt to steal her compounds they would be useless to him. This was crucial, for as long as Yashen remained the only one who could brew dreams the Vice Queen would not send her back to the brothels. She made more money for the Vice Queen as the Dream Merchant than she ever had as a prostitute, which made her one of the Vice Queen's most valuable slaves.

Three drops of nostalgia. Five drops of joy. Four drops of vigor. Ten drops of alcohol to help him fall asleep. Two drops of nightshade nectar to help him stay asleep. Mix thoroughly, and the dream was done. Next. Ten drops of courage. Two drops of anger. One drop of fear. Five drops of joy. Six drops of praise. Mix seven drops of lust with a compound which will make sure it arrives at the end of the dream. Bond that compound with seven drops of satisfaction. Mix thoroughly. All of these emotions, all of these human experiences, Yashen could brew them all. The customers would fill in the details with their own minds. The man who dreamed of being a hero would make the one he hated most his dastardly villain, the people of his hometown the crowds who would praise him, and the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen into the maiden whose heart he'd win. Yashen could not make these people experience anything they'd never experienced before, but she could cause them to piece together their own experiences into something truly beautiful. She provided the brush strokes, they provided the paint and canvas.

Each customer came by and paid coin for their dreams. In but a single day the Dream Merchant had made a small fortune. Then, after sunset, she heard the knock on the door of those who would take her fortune away.

Yashen arose from her chair and opened the door for the three strong men who'd come to visit. Each of them had a mace in his belt and a leather whip in his hand as methods of “persuasion,” should any enslaved merchant refuse to hand over their money.

The leader of the three, an unsightly man with an over-sized nose covered in warts, said to Yashen, “I 'ears you made much monies today.”

Yashen shrugged. “You've listened to the local gossip, then?”

“'Ow much did you make?”

Yashen had learned long ago not to hide any coin from these three. They'd pulled her arm out of socket once because she told them a false amount. “Two-hundred denarius,” she said as she opened the coin-box for them to see.

“Two-'undred? Now, that's a king's ransom, it is! The Vice Queen will be 'appy to 'ear it.”

Yashen wasn't sure what the uncomely thug had against the letter H, but he had the annoying habit of dropping it whenever he spoke. A bad 'abit, indeed. “How much of that am I allowed to keep?” asked Yashen. “A girl's got to eat, you know. Then there's the cost of materials.”

“The Vice Queen understands that 'er most valuable slave needs a bit to stay alive. So, she's decided you can keep fifty denarius this time.” The homely thug took most of the coin from the box. “Also, the Vice Queen wishes to send you an assistant.”

“An assistant?”

“That's what she said. A pretogie.” Surely he meant “protege.” “The slave she'll send you will 'elp you out and in turn you teach 'er a few things.”

“I won't teach anyone how to brew dreams,” said Yashen.

“What's all this now?”

“I won't teach anyone my secrets.”

“You want I should pull your arms out of socket again?” he threatened. The other two thugs placed their hands on the handles of their maces.

“Try it. I'll bite through my tongue and bleed to death,” said Yashen. “Then you can explain to the Vice Queen why her most valuable slave let her secrets die with her. As I told her before, when I've safely reached old age I'll teach someone else to do what I do. Not a moment before.” Yashen knew that her monopoly on this knowledge was the only thing keeping her away from the brothels. She was a pretty girl, with a sweet face and slender frame. The Vice Queen had only allowed her to leave the whorehouse because she'd made far more money as the Dream Merchant.

The unsightly thug brought his face close to Yashen's, his frame towering over her. Yashen did not show fear for a second. She wanted to make sure he knew that death was a welcoming alternative to what awaited her if she was no longer the only one who knew how to brew her potions.

The thug spat out the right corner of his mouth and said, “I'll give the Vice Queen your answer. I reckon she won't be too 'appy about it, but it is what it is.”

“Let her be 'appy with the coin I bring in,” said Yashen.

All three thugs sneered at her before they lumbered back out the front door. The floor creaked with their every step, and the air seemed so much fresher once their rotten smell no longer lingered.

Yashen released a deep sigh after they were gone. Ten years she'd been in slavery, ten years since the Digan legions attacked Kolob, captured her and her family, and sent them west. Her mother and father, her brothers and sisters, by now she had no idea where they were. When she'd heard that the Arxians were working to abolish the slave trade in the West she'd been hopeful. She hadn't realized what an under-handed, sneaky creature the slave trade was. For as long as the Vice Queen was able to threaten those she considered her property the slave trade would never truly be over.

She cleaned up the materials from her work. Empty vials needed to be rinsed out to be re-used later, and the cauldron needed to be cleaned out, lest some of the residue of the nightmare she'd brewed for the unfaithful husband mix in with future dreams. As she cleaned she heard a low, rumbling sound under the ground. An earthquake, perhaps. There were occasional, small earthquakes in Nox, nothing ever too serious. Yashen glanced over at the table, making sure that her path to it was clear, in case this was the one time the earthquake did get serious.

What she saw was far more surprising. There was a single crack in the tiles that made up her floor, and from that crack a stream of glittering dust sprayed into the air. Yashen panicked. No slave was allowed to own weapons, and the Vice Queen's thugs would occasionally check her house for anything that seemed too dangerous. She wasn't even allowed to own a kitchen knife.

She took from the wall a vial of fear. Rarely did anyone absorb the compound on contact with their skin, but if whatever creature was about to enter her home did its heart would stop from the terror.

“Peace, Yashen, I mean you no harm,” came a deep voice from the dust.

Yashen was not convinced. If anything, the voice just confirmed her fear that this was an intruder using magic to enter her home. She pulled the vial back, prepared to throw it.

The dust gathered together and formed the shape of what looked like a man made of diamond, though he had ten horns on his head, arranged like a crown, and sharp, crystal wings on his back. Yashen dropped her hand down to her side. There was no point in trying to poison an angel. If he meant her harm this was the end for her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The shimmering angel showed her the palms of both of his hands. “As you can see, I am unarmed.”

“An angel doesn't need weapons to be dangerous,” said Yashen. “Have you come to pass judgment on me?”

“Not at all. I'm surprised that a follower of the True Way, such as yourself does not recognize me. You were raised in Kolob for eight years. Did your mother and father truly tell you no stories about me?”

Yashen paused a moment and looked him over again. Particularly, she noted the ten horns upon his head. “Sandalphon? The Archangel Sandalphon?”

“The same,” said the angel, his voice causing the glass vials to rattle.

“What do you want with me?” Yashen asked through heavy breaths.

Sandalphon pointed a finger at her. “You, Yashen, are to rebuild the Inquisition.”

“Rebuild? I beg your pardon, but the Inquisition was utterly annihilated ten years ago. Our temples were destroyed, and every copy of our holy books burned. The Arxians have long since conquered Kolob, and have surely eradicated what was left of our home by now.”

“Perhaps, but the holy books were never the only way your people learned the True Way. I wrote the holy books, so I can teach you what was in them. As for the temples, you can rebuild them.”

Yashen shook her head. “It's impossible. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to see Kolob restored...but I am a slave. If I try to leave, or do anything out of the ordinary...” Yashen couldn't bring herself to describe just how horrible the consequences would be. The Vice Queen didn't need to keep her slaves under constant watch, nor did she have enough thugs to do it. All she had to do was capture a few runaways and have them flayed alive in front of her other slaves. The sight was so gruesome that every slave was far too afraid to run. Slaves sometimes told each other stories about times that they were just a few steps away from escaping, sure that they could get away, only to have their fear overtake them.

“I will give you what you need in order to survive,” said Sandalphon. “I will teach you the magic once held by the inquisitors and witch-hunters, including the power to summon angels to your aid. My armies are standing by, and ready to follow you. But this is not enough, you must form a human army as well. The people of Kolob must fight for their own freedom. For them to simply receive it as a gift...they will take it for granted. They must rise up together, united by their faith. Make the Vice Queen pay for what she has done, and be prepared for the terrible threat that grows beneath our feet at this very moment.”

“Beneath our feet?” Yashen repeated.

“Angels are not the only beings who live under the ground,” said Sandalphon. “Now, come here, and I shall teach you all that you need to know.”

Yashen cautiously stepped closer to Sandalphon. She knew that had he meant to harm her he would have done it already, and there would have been no way to stop him. Still, drawing closer to a creature so much larger than she was, with such a booming voice and such awesome power, was terrifying.

“Fear is a sin, child,” said Sandalphon. “You must learn to overcome it.”

That wasn't helping. All Yashen heard there was that she was already guilty in this archangel's eyes. What if he had second thoughts and killed her for her fear? Yashen trembled, but she kept walking towards the archangel.

The archangel seized Yashen's right forearm and held it tightly. Yashen jumped, but she did not struggle to pull away. She felt a shooting pain go through her forearm, and strange markings appeared on her skin.

“With this mark you may call upon my angels for help,” said Sandalphon. “Keep the mark hidden, until you find a need to reveal it.”