They told me I had slept for a hebdoma, the fourteen day cycle of my peoples’ calender. It had not seemed that long to me. When I awoke my head was clear and my wounds were freshly bandaged. Best of all, my breathing easier than in many calends. For the first time in many turns of the seasons, my sockets, while still aching, were not agonizing me to scream. Then came a sure sign I was better.
The aroma from outside was of eggs, fried auroch, toasted bread, and the cinnamon scent of heavenly porridge. I questioned my mental state, for porridge never smelt that good. Hunger was driving me to move, so I rolled off the bed gently and stood up slowly, on my own. Standing without the wobbles of the past thirty-five years would take more time was my first discovery. I stretched slowly, and gingerly, for my ribcage was sore as a ornery auroch. I was only in a loincloth, but a little gentle feeling around found trews and a shirt, socks, and a pair of boots that actually fit me reasonably well. There was a fresh wrap around where my eyes once were, with a poultice on each socket. Only my saber was missing, but Specula would not be needed here, I hoped.
Once dressed, I made my way slowly to the door, finding a staff by the door. It felt good in my hand. In the protection of the wagon’s interior, it glowed with the blue of a mountain lake, even to having waves moving in it. My aura sight was coming into focus so fast this day, I began to question if this was the after life. It normally took a while for that vision to be there for me. Rarely was it this clear, thus I often jokingly called it my blurry third eye when speaking of it.
I eased open the door slowly, in case some one was near it, starting down the stairs. The prairie was full of a not quite silence, here by the large rock outcropping we called the Hamus. That upthrust was shaped just like the fishhook we called it after. There were only a few sounds, those of the birds of the grasslands, the wind and the occasional snort or stamp of an onager grazing nearby. I heard the sound I most associated with the encampments of my family. That steady metal on metal staccato beat of a metal smith at work. Father was forging or fixing something, so the quiet was probably just that the rest of the gens was on the other side of the five stadia long butte. As I walked out, I heard a sigh of relief.
“About time. Thought you died in there.” My aunt, Antonia Minoria has always felt that a person who sleeps more than twenty hours in a hebdoma was ill or insane. Myself, I find I prefer forty hours a hebdoma, and by that standard, I should still be catching up on the sleep I had lost in the past few decades now. My aunt is an expert in medicines, especially in herbal remedies and poultices, which explained the ones in my sockets.
“How close was it this time?” I asked, finding my way with my staff towards her voice. Luckily, her aura showed to my inner vision, and the sound of a cooking fire gave me something to follow when she was quiet.
“Too close. There were poisons in your body that had been administered over time. I believe Didius and Norbanus saved you from seeking your next life by only letting you eat foods they gathered themselves as they brought you here.” She fell silent, not the pleasant kind, as I reached the bench at the campfire. I stepped over it gently and took seat, waiting for the bad news to come.
When it did not come, I decided it might be bad, but I was hungry. “Well, either tell me how long I have to live, or give me some porridge. A few slivers of auroch would be nice too.” I had never stood on formality with this matertera.
A bowl on a plate was placed on my waiting hands. I ate slowly the meat and grains, while finding slices of dried red malum on the plate as my fingers explored the food. I ate slowly not out of lack of hunger, but to savor the flavors. The food had been atrocious after the takeover in the temples. I was halfway finished when she spoke again, to finish the thought.
“You will live. You still have not healed as well as wanted. Those damned fools let your sockets get infected again, and you were poisoned yet again. They got some of that iron water into you, despite the best efforts of the Lorcius to stop that foolishness.” She was worried. Anatonia hated that I had been taken from the family by the Triari, and they had failed miserably, I could tell. "You have other injuries, the kind I see after fights to."
“I will make you a deal, you get information, after you start me another set of meat strips, and easier on the pepper, my stomach is used to bland foods now.” I held out just the bowl. and kept the plate of malum slices.
"Giving orders to your elders, now, are you? That city ruined what manners you had." Her snort held mirth though, so I was hopeful of more food.
I took my time with those malum pieces. It would be several more hebdoma
The sizzle of the meat on a hot rock, as the fire around it cooked it slowly, the smells of spring onions in the air as well were wonderful. It was as close to paradise that I could imagine right then. I wondered if there were any tubers left in the winter stores, to be roasted later and served with the onion tops mixed with goat cheese, maybe even other early vegetables or ones left from the fall.
A slice of toasted bread was set gently on my plate, which I eagerly devoured next. She had let the butter soak in as it toasted, which made it soft and more sweet. I must seem as a glutton, eating this much I thought. But then, after years of short rations, and the long sleep, I felt justified. Continuing to pack it in for a while, I listened to the birds and father’s hammer. Distantly I could hear the sounds of the auroch, those huge oxen my kin herded, with the wide spread, deadly horns moving and grazing as some youngster moved them west past the camp towards fresher grasses.
I stopped eating, not out of fullness, just shame. I was sure I had eaten someone’s lunch, probably father’s. It was time to speak, so I asked for a mug of tea, sat there and told Matertera about beatings I had taken from the Centurions, the times I knew I had been drugged, and the constant fogs I had . But I refused to speak of the mark from the blade of a spear in my side. That was a subject I was still to close to in my heart for others to hear.
When we had settled down after a particularly fast exchange of questions and answers, I realized that the hammer had stopped some time ago. Dimly, when I turned my head, I perceived a amethyst aura I knew was father. That startled me. Always before, I had to hear a voice, or catch some other clue to the identity of those around me to discern an identity. This time, I just knew it. I could see details in the flame. Things like steadiness, and streamers that moved opposite the main flow of the aura I was perceiving. It was not exactly sight, but it could replace it, I had long ago realized. The longer I let it flow over me, the more details I saw, including the auras of other things. I could see the hungry red flame of a culex, the blood sucking insect all but the birds that eat them hate, as it moved towards my arm.
As an experiment, I tried to slap it before it landed. I was too fast. It had seemed closer to my arm, depth perception would take a great deal of time to develop. In other words, I missed. It bothered me, for all my teachers of the doni, those gifts of powers we Numeni have, had always taught me that only intelligent creatures had auras. Yet I had seen the burning hunger of the culex. And from the silence of my aunt and father, I knew I had been too close for sound to be blamed.
“You know of my doni. My teachers were wrong. All that lives has auras it seems. I know this, as I can see them.” My words were tentative. I was trying to remember all my lessons of my youth. And failing at the moment.
“Well, I am not surprised at this. Your doni, though you often disdained them. appeared early. Your use of them was more natural than most students of those powers. Billenius. You have always been something of a mystery to me. Yet you grew up in my wagon.” Father was supportive, as he always was. “But the real question is, did you leave me anything for lunch, or do I need to scavenge for a while?’
We all laughed. Father took up a seat beside me, clasping my shoulder as he settled in, and we continued to explore the questions of my abilities, the events of my rescue and the days leading to it, and the state of the family, capital and the lands I had traveled. It was the trip out, and the revelations along the way they kept coming back to. That fire would haunt my consorbrini.
“Befana blessed you on this race here. Surely Befana, with such luck. Billenius, I long suspected you boys of that fire.” My aunt paused. When she spoke it was hushed. "Your cry for mercy in the dream bothers me. The gods rarely answer so swiftly."
Father was less skeptical. “You asked for mercy that night before the escape. And you got it. Its like we told you all these years, you had to forgive yourself first. Asking for mercy is a step in that direction.” He was always practical about that time, and I sometimes forgot he had his own scars, from a similar mistake. But it had been a long time since I had come home, and I had news he did not.
“I agree, now. I no longer need to blame myself." I hesitated for a moment, then decided they had to know already, from Didius of that trip. "Nonia is back, remembers and blames me for myself.” I was trying to be glib about the matter but father is far more perceptive than I care sometimes.
“So, she has returned. She is in the capital then?” Simple question, and there was a difficult answer.
“No, she was reborn with wings, in the mountains north of the capital. You know the tribes there. She hates all males, views us a naught but slaves to serve the whims and needs of her sex. When I realized it was her, I tried to talk to her...and it went... badly.” To say the least. My hand went to the scar in my abdomen, just below the ribs, where her spear had entered my flesh, and been twisted.
The hum from matertera was telling. She knew the wound’s cause now, and that I had probably done more than try to talk. I had tried to make her remember. Not by force, but by persuasion. Only to find out she did remember, and had been holding back that blow until I knew who she was in a past life.
“So, learn anything?” Antonia’s tone of voice conveyed a lot of meanings, so I took the simplest of them.
“Yes. Next time, I wear my armor. And speak to her from further away.” I held out my mug for more tea. The mints were up and strong this year. But the flavor was wonderful. Better than the sage teas and potions at the temple.
My aunt chuckled. That evil laugh women have when they know something. “You can only hate that much when you love, Billenius.” She started a new pot. I knew this by the smell of the freshly bruised smell of mint leaves, the rosehips and chamomile in the air. That and the fact she had not just refilled my cup.
Father waited until we had the tea, and his lunch, before asking another question. “Going to talk to her again?”
I did not wait at all. “Make me some chain mail, pater. Chain mail, a fast onager and a good head start. Not that the last two matter, she seemed to fly faster than most. But that could just be my lack of sight.” Another of the vampire bugs came around me. This one never got a bite in. I was figuring out how auras lay upon each other and how to judge distances. Up close at least. Maybe I really could see enough by them to walk in the real world again.
Mother arrived later, forcing me back to the bed in the wagon. I did not fight too much. By that time I had eaten enough I was feeling sluggish. This time, though, I was awake for the changing of the poultices. And wished I was not by the time it was done. The drainage was causing the bandages to stick to the flesh near the edges as the fluids dried.
“Any tips on getting them to finish healing?” I asked, as Antonia replaced them and had me sit up a moment to bandage them on.
“Yes. Dry climate, change the wrap more often, if they let you. And stay the hells away from the Centurions. Those dream drugs they gave you build up faster than your body can get rid of them. You had nearly deadly levels in your blood. Drink fluids a lot until you reach the Rima, then cut back a few days, let the sockets dry. They should be at least safe by the time you cross the desert.” Her words were matter of fact. I had yet to discuss with Didius where we were headed, but crossing the desert, that meant only one place. Well, two perhaps. "And change the wrap more often. Not that I think you made that choice."
“So, I am off to Avia, or am I to hide with the Grey Claw?” I was getting tired, I still had at least a few hebdoma of sleep to catch up on, and I was tired of being shielded from the plans, due to my disability.
“Your friend first, but you have missives for more folks, just in case. You are the priest you became, but the lands we send you to are ones who know you as the warrior. I feel you may have a tougher road this time. You have that sense of distance ahead of you.” I forgot that she had a touch of prescience, not as full as mine, just that light touch.
“As long as the Centurions are not on that path, I will be...happy.” I trailed off into slumber, another deep slumber.
When I next woke up, I felt better than anytime in the last fifty springs. And yes, that is more than the time under the Decemviri’s heel, but my allergies had been getting to me for a few decades before they took over. Using my nose more for knowing things had its pitfalls, and finding scents and particles that irritated it was chief of those.
This time I had only slept a single night, but was still stiff. I got up, found the clothes laid our for me after only a little less groping around than the day before, then made my way outside. There I had breakfast, a teasing lecture on wearing clothes properly as my shirt was laced wrong, and a long conversation again. This one lasted hours, and it was on the events of home and family. I was surprised to find the husband of my sister was acting as the ambassador in Rahab. And young Rufi was down there with him for a year, to spend time with his father.
They ran down the deaths, births, marriages, separations and fosterings. And the shock that Ringelius was still alive flowing through all gens like a fire. I still was not sure where he was at that time. But he had friends and others he may have needed to see or deal with. I knew he had debts to settle, some of coin, others of favors, and at least one of violence, if a certain relative was around.
That afternoon, I took a short walk away from the camp. A stade away from the wagons I found what I sought, a large, square block of the cap rock that had fallen away in either some avalanche of winter or storm of summer from the butte’s top. It was of perfect size to be a seat, a purpose that I had used it for several saeculi I had lived so far. From my sighted days, I remembered what the terrain here looked like, the mostly green crystal grass, laced with some blue and amethyst strains, with many clumps of red nettles all around the small clearing it sat in. The boulder was on a pile of the nearly clear sands formed when the stone called quartz weathered away. The sands were harsh and could abrade the skin, despite the slick, silky texture of the rock it was born of. The snakes of the area did not like those rocks, it was ringed by a carefully planted circle of adder’s bane, an herb of these plains that had two wonderful abilities. Its odor drove off the insects, and the sap was a cure for most, but not all, venoms and poisons. I considered asking someone to gather me some of them for the journey to come.
I took up my seat, and leaned back into the tilted spine of the boulder, which resembled the chairs of my folk, reclined in a way that one was halfway between laying flat and sitting up. It was a sunny day, and I needed the warmth after the foulest winter I had ever suffered.
Somewhere near this boulder, an old friend of mine lived. One not of my people, one most thought of only as a beast. While his speech is limited to that of the mind, not sound, he is a great conversationalist, a terrible gossip, and one of the few friends I still had anywhere near me. The carbunculi are unusual in many ways. Their armored hides are made not of chitin, bone or cartilage, but a strange growth of crystals from their skins. It comes from eating the crystal grass, high in certain minerals that are the ingredients in gems. Instead of antlers or horns, on their forehead a gem forms, a gem they control the growth of by their diet and will. Perfect gems, grown already cut and polished, with wonderful facets and shapes. Once, when he had realized that Nonia and I were “mates” as he had called us then, he had grown a topaz whose facets mimicked a simple sunflower for her. As a gift.
It did not take long for my nocturnal amicus to come see who had invaded his territory despite the light of day. I could feel the press of a mind on mine, and fought the urge, so ingrained by my last thirty years, to raise a barrier against another mind touching mine. Soludrin was curious, and still not sure who was here. I could hear him moving in the grasses, as he came out of his burrow for his nocturnal foraging. The scrape of his armored body on the grass, the pats and clicks of his paws and claws. There was no need to fear him, he was not inclined to attack people, unless they attacked him, or disturbed his burrow.
At last, as he tickled my mind again, I merely sighed loudly, then spoke to him with my voice, for I did not yet trust my other donum besides aura sight and precognition. "Soludrin, its just me. I brought some garlic bread from my aunt’s grill, so you won’t have to steal it tonight.”
There was a moments respite, then I heard a chattering I knew to be his laughter. He no longer tried to be quiet, but barreled through the grasses, making them ring like the glass chimes on matertera’s wagon. Over the centuries we had both lived, and yes, the carbunculi do live extremely long lives, if they are careful of predators, wagons, and stampedes of the beasts of the plains, he had worn his own little ramp up to the seat area of the boulder.
In a minute, the long pointed head and long ears of my friend were in my lap. “Billen. Good you home. Stay?” It is an eerie thing, to have no sounds accompany a voice that just appears in your head. Once, I had been used to it, when Soludrin had followed me around as a boy and later in my days as a Custos here on the Jai’ Plains. This time, it both jarred and soothed my nerves, strangely enough. Knowing a friend is still alive, when you have as few left as I do, is truly comforting, and it is worth any discomfort to enjoy the company of their presence.
We spoke for a long while, just talking to speak with each other again. As the sun slowly slid down the sky, the nagging pressure of someone listening pushed on my awareness. I could tell that Soludrin had felt it too, as he moved across my body, and imposed himself between me and the unseen person or creature out there. I had a feeling it was either Norbanus or Didius, though I had felt Ringelius around camp while my family and I had spoken.
The first two knew of my friendship with the carbunculi, and where Soludrin’s lair was. They would hang back and let us be. Didius, unless told of my small friend, would try to find out who I was speaking with, or if my mind was gone and I was talking to the air or some ghost. Either of those would cause the family to be upset, and think I was insane. But right now I cared not a whit for such concerns of others.
Whoever it was must have come too close for my friend, for he suddenly chattered loudly, not the soft, squeaky one of his laugh, but the aggressive animal call of territoriality, deeper, louder, and paced in burst of five or six noises with a short separation for breath.
Until this moment, I had not realized that one could feel an aura. At least not at a distance. When being taught of them, I had learned to control my perceptions of auras by learning to trace their outlines using my hands around another's, with my eyes closed. I had failed miserably back then, mostly from my own denial of my powers. I had never realized that without knowing a person, I could determine other things about those around me by how their energy flowed out into the world, and interacted with the rest of the realm we lived in.
We heard the faint hum of the grass, as whoever it was retreated. Whether reassured or disturbed, I did not try to ascertain. That would surely come up at dinner tonight, if it was family or an ally. But for now I was happy enough to sit in the sun and warm myself with its radiance and friendship. After a bit, Soludrin calmed down, but he never came off his alert as he had before.
“Billen come, Soludrin have presents.” He sent me at last, and headed down his ramp. I felt gravely honored, for while I knew of two of his burrows, those I had discovered by accident, one as a boy and one later in life by just being observant. But he had never led me to any of his burrows, and had always taken a different path from our comfortable rock in the past. As I stood, I discovered something, that the carbunculi’s aura was distinctly his, and I could follow it easily, even in the dull fog of the aura of the grasses now filling my vision as the sun set, allowing other auras to shine brighter.
Luckily, it was not far he led me, and I heard him enter his burrow, and come back out several times. “Mind talk Eats-Me-Soon.” I could not help it, I had to laugh. While I had known Soludrin since my earliest years, I had another friend I had met later, and introduced to Soludrin. A friend who had terrified the young carbunculi at first. It turned out that young dragons enjoy the taste of carbuncli, of all ages. Every time they had met after that, Umbradinor had been just “Eats-Me-Soon” to my smaller companion. Eventually they had come to an uneasy pact, that for sake of their friendship of me, the young dragon would disdain eating carbunculi, in return for a gem that Soludrin had grown from time to time.
This time, after over a dozen trips up and down, he stopped. “Billenius need money, free not free, need money, so take. Give hand first, five not yours.” I lowered my hand to the ground and he guided my hand to five gems he had me store separately in a pocket, not my pouch. “These go Eats-Me-Soon. Children there to take these, when they leave burrow. They not eat me either.“ I chuckled, and promised to gain that boon of children I had not known Umbradinor had. Nor had I heard he had a found a mate, so much had passed since he and I had last spoke.
Then he guided me to several others. They were smaller than the five, but with numerous and complex facets. “These for you. But you get me white sweet crystals, yes?” Laughing, I agreed. Many years ago, on a journey to the east, I had returned with a delicacy made by letting syrups of the sacchari canes grow crystals on strings by being dipped slowly into that liquid and allowed to dry many times. His sweet tooth had made me think of him, I had brought him many strings of crystals on that and other trips since.
There were at least a dozen small gems there. A small fortune in most places, enough to buy a kingdom or duchy in others. I thanked him softly, and earnestly, for I was sure I had few coins in my chest. This would give me funds I knew from the past that Norbanus would not part with from what he had brought himself, and the Triarium would have no access to the funds of the temples.
I laid my hand on his forehead, and noted a gem there as well, a strange one, Like a large teardrop, yet still faceted. It was curved, as if grown for setting in the cup of a palm. It came free, to my surprise.
“That one special, never sell. You speak to it, me hear you words. Any ask, it far-speak gem from me.” He paused before continuing on. “You break, all you friends know, come fast. Secret, you, me, friends only. No one else. No one.” With that, he licked my fingers, then scurried down his burrow. I had not known he cared that much, to use his mind-crafts to make such a gem. I think he was embarrassed, or thought I would be by the gift.
For two days more I rested there, in the camp of my blood relatives. I called in Furius, one of my nephews, and asked him to take down my words, to set pen to paper, and save for all my experiences. Something I had not done in many decadi. If the Decemviri wanted me dead, then it would be best if I kept a log of my point of view, in hopes of a trial someday of those who had offended against our few laws, and far too many traditions. As I spoke, I held that stone from Soludrin before my lips
When father noted it, I told him what it was, and what I suspected.
Then Norbanus was there when I woke one morning. And others. Didius Loricus voice was loud in that clashing of wills outside the wagon. "We have to move. A legion is coming! A Custos from the gens brought us word."
I puzzled as I allowed my distant cousin to aid me in dressing, over his words, or choice of what to tell me. Didius Loricus was out there, as well as Ringelius. Father was enraged at something, and my mother and her sister more so. I had heard such screams only in the arguments over my deformed cousin, and my own return from Pelori so many years ago, maimed and blind. It was indeed an ill-wind, one foreseen, just not in how cold and evil it was to be.
The Triari entered the wagon. His steps were swift, deliberate, and yet tentative. He had some doubts as to his course of action, whether from his heart or my family’s words, I could not tell. But, ever the practical person, he had made a choice, and was moving forward with it.
“The Decemviri have called in the Insular Legions. The Imperial Isle is in their hands, Augur.” Title, rather than name. He was telling me his decision, he was not leaving it to me. I knew that attitude, he had yielded many times to my sight in the past, even when he had not agreed with my interpretations of its path or results. Not this time. “We must get into the desert, and I hate to tell you this, but without more supplies, and the wagon I was sending to be lowered down with water casks, only the Angry Red Road is left as an option." The soft release of breath spoke of a regret. "Forgive me, Billenius. We must pass by your bane in those peaks. We have no choice, but to drive fast to Pelori, so we are outside all but the most ancient borders, and thus able to ignore the Decuria’s legati.” He paused, to let me soak this painful news in. “I will bring what herbs and wine we can, if you wish to pass the entrance to the Paths incapacitated.”
I had always known, by my doni and the words of others, that some day I would have to confront this part of my painful past. “You are right, we go now, or as soon as my possessions can be packed onto some form of animal. And damn the traditions and laws, grab as much of my stock of onageri as you can. ” I took a deep breath, and let it out. Then I took another. “I have to do this, and will, Triari. I will survive the suffering., perhaps heal due to it.”
He waited, hoping or fearing I would say more. His grunted assent was all I got from him now. I could be assured of an earful as we traveled. “Two hands, that is all we have, be ready to ride hard as on a Custos mission, Billenius. Then more hard travel on the roads below the Rima.” I trembled as he left, in both fear and anticipation. I had made my first decision of my own in decades. And it had felt good. I truly was free, and intended to stay that way.
Father entered, and guided my hands over the possessions in my chest, or at least the ones he felt I needed to know. Then he asked for the stone Soludrin had given me. I was reluctant, until I heard the tinkle of a fine metal chain. Trust my father to think of safe-guarding something precious. “It will look simple, the stone is incredible, there is even a hole in its form, just for the chain, boy. Soludrin crafted it well. The chain is short, the stone will rest in the hollow of your neck, and can only come off if you unclasp it, and only you.” He took the gem and I heard him use the gentle tools of a jeweler, something he rarely did, save when crafting something for the women in the family. There was a soft tapping as he cold welded the support ring onto the stone and chain, and murmured the closing of the spell. I could see the crafting of the spell, the way the links, ring and clasp were soaking up that energy, becoming a single piece. Then he pricked my thumb with the clasp, and rapidly set it around my neck and locked it, whispering a benediction to the gods to protect the one who wore it.
When he had done this, he helped me back to my feet, to hug me, but said not a word more. The time for words, in his opinion at least, was gone. Now all that was left to be said, could be communicated by that embrace, mother’s hand on my face and peck on my cheek, and matertera’s hand on my forehead in blessing.
It was time to move on from my home here at Hamus Butte. I was not sure I would be back in this lifetime.
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