Date: Fri, 10 Mar 2006 22:04:45 -0700
From: Trewin Greenaway <trewingreenaway@cronnex.com>
Subject: JESSAN ~ A TALE OF WIZARDRY Chapter 2

JESSAN ~ A TALE OF WIZARDRY Chapter 2

Copyright 2006 Trewin Greenaway ^' All Rights Reserved

To learn more about me and the genesis of this tale, visit my website
http://www.cronnex.com/ .

I hope to post a new chapter every Saturday from now on. If you're
enjoying the story, do let me know!

=================================================

 Chapter 2

Despite the roughness of the track, the trader kept at his fast pace and
I was afraid I would end up choking on my piece of gruel if I failed to
finish it while I still had some wind. So, gobble it down I did, only
opening my other hand to view Faryn's gift after the last morsel was on
its way to my belly.

This was soon enough, and when I examined my present I discovered it was
a miniature dolphin, cunningly carved of wood and rubbed with oil to
give it a soft glow. Faryn  had also inserted a tiny plug in it of a
different, darker wood, the end of which had a hole drilled in it so
that I could tie it around my neck. The dolphin is a sign of good luck
to fishermen and others who go to sea, and the wish that came with this
one warmed my heart. I held it tightly in my hand for a league or so
before I finally tucked it safely away in my pocket.

The road, at least the part that led to our village, was little more
than a path, for most trade along the coast was done by boat. This was
so much the case that I'd never in my life seen a horse and only rarely
a pack mule. Only the poorest of pedlars would arrive by foot,
shouldering a pack frame.

In any case, for lack of such travel, the track was too narrow for two
to walk abreast and talk, at least if they were both loaded with packs.
Not that the trader showed the slightest inclination to chat. But if I'd
been able, I'd have tried anyway. If he was to be the only person I was
to know in the world, I wished I might get to know him better or at
least have him answer some questions.

For one thing, I'd begun to wonder what had happened to the pack boy who
had preceded me. It was unlikely one had come with the trader to our
village--for if so, what happened to him?--and if not, had Osfalt
expected to hire one when he got there? He couldn't be very bright if
he had--a fact that, admittedly, went along with his general
dishevelment. Had I been taken as a bondslave by an idiot? This was
worrisome and could be resolved by getting him to speak a single
sentence, if it were long enough.

Engrossed in such thoughts, I failed to notice a root reaching across
the path, tripped on it, and, with a cry, pitched forward onto the
ground, the back on top of me. I'd hardly time to grasp what had
happened before Osfalt, who had spun around at my cry, was yanking me
to my feet. I'd badly stubbed my toes and skinned my knee.

The trader expressed not a word of sympathy. He merely glanced at my
wound, which was already oozing blood, and when he saw that I was now
limping because of my mashed toes, he merely stepped to the side of the
path, pulled out an evil-looking knife, and hacked a length from a
sapling. This he thrust in my hands to use as a makeshift staff and
then gestured for me to precede him.

I soon understood why he had chosen to walk behind me, for the moment I
began to lag from his fast pace he struck my pack with his own staff to
urge me onward. And so I hobbled along, as league followed upon league,
miserable and in pain. And soaking wet, too, from the soft rain, I
should add, although the sun had begun to break through the clouds,
and, as the next hour passed, chased them all away.

This part of the path, which was the furthest I'd ever travelled on it
before, passes around a point, where the land extends out into the sea.
As we approached its tip, I began to hear a loud sound, as if someone
was pounding on an enormous drum. What made this even stranger was that
it seemed to be coming from the sea. Since we had a clear view of the
water through the trees, it was only a matter of time before its source
came into view--a huge war galley, with both a sail and two long ranks of
oars, one above the other. These moved swiftly and rhythmically in
unison, propelling the galley along at great speed. The drum was
setting the rowers' pace.

It was an utterly amazing sight. I'd never seen such a ship for there
was no reason for one to come up our coast, since beyond our village
the mountain range came down to the sea and the kingdom, we knew, did
not extend beyond it. It was trimmed with red paint and black, and a
large witch eye had been painted on this side of the prow, matched, I
guessed, with one on the other side. These were things no one I knew
would dare put on a boat, for they were meant to cast a spell of
misfortune upon any who gazed on them. "An evil thing to paint even on
a war ship, for it does not discriminate friend from enemy," I thought
to myself, but unintentionally spoke the words aloud.

"Those on that ship have no friends and don't care what you think of
them, boy," Osfalt answered, adding with heavy sarcasm, "If you have
gazed at this fearsome thing to your heart's content, we had best be on
our way--and quickly."

Of course, I hadn't in the least seen as much as I wished, but I took
his meaning and reluctantly tore my eyes away from the ship. Even as he
spoke, I had just laid eyes on the squad of soldiers standing on the
deck and could see cages in which large dark shapes were pacing back
and forth--what exactly, the ship was too far out to sea to make out.

This time, the trader took the lead. Our brief rest had given me back
some strength and something else to think about besides my aching feet.
So I was better able to keep up with him, especially since he was tiring
himself. This stretch of the track wandered from the sight of the ocean
and into a dark wood. Since all the large trees near our village had
long been felled for lumber, I'd never encountered so many crowded
together, letting so little sunlight through their leaves that no
underbrush could grow beneath them. The air grew stuffy and smelled of
baked wood, and the path, although carpeted with dead leaves, was
ruptured everywhere everywhere both by a tangle of tree roots and by
rocks that these had thrust to the surface.

I was now dizzy with tiredness and feared that I might actually faint.
Furthermore, I was drenched in sweat and the villainous weight of the
pack ate into my shoulders. When we finally came to a stream, I
decided, permission or no, to slip off the pack and fling myself down
to drink.

But the trader had anticipated this and grabbed me by the arm. "Not
here, not yet," he hissed. He held me tightly for a moment while he
looked both up and down the trail, cocking his head and listening
carefully. He them pulled me away from the path and into the forest.
Now the way was truly rough and it was all I could do to keep my
balance, the weight of the pack threatening to topple me as we
clambered between the trees. The trader clung to my arm, at once
supporting me and propelling me along.

We went like this for several minutes, me dragging more with every step,
until I could hear the splashing of falling water, We stepped out of the
trees into a clearing, beyond which a rocky ledge barred our way. A
small waterfall tumbled over it a little to the side of this, forming a
pool bordered by mossy rocks. From this ran the stream that we had just
encountered where it crossed our path.

As I stared at all this, the trader said in a different, lighter voice,
"Go and drink and then clean your wounds." Needing no further urging, I
pulled off my shirt and stepped carefully into the pool, which, as I
waded in, rose above my waist. The cold water felt delicious to my hot
and tired body, and I drank my fill from the falling water. Then I fell
backwards and floated in the pool, only my head above the water.

The trader was watching me with amusement. Then, as I watched, he, too,
cast off his robes, revealing an astonishingly young and supple body.
But that was only the first of the surprises. He pulled the filthy
patch from his eye and then, with both hands, yanked off the beard, and
then the matted tangle of grey, greasy hair.

What emerged from all this was a young man only a few years older than
Faryn, with a slender, well-knit body, close-cropped brown hair, and an
appealingly lively face.

He waded in the pool, laughing at my astonishment. As I had, he went to
the waterfall and drank, then turned, dived into the water and swam
over to me. His eyes were still sparkling from his laughter.

"Alfrund, herbalist, at your service," he said.

My mouth opened, but it was so full of questions that none could squeeze
their way past the others. He laughed again. "Not now," he said. "Enjoy
this rest, because it must be a short one." And with that he stood up
and waded back to where our packs and clothing lay. He opened them up,
one by one, and emptied them onto the ground, until slabs of salt fish
lay all about. He also removed both his knife, well sheathed, and a
small pouch from his robes, setting these beside with my bundle of
clothing.

Alfrund gathered together a small pile of twigs and removed a firestone
from his pouch. He stroked it with a pointed piece of iron and soon had
a small fire burning brightly. He began ripping his robe into strips and
fed the fire with this, then the sacks, then the beard and the wig,
which gave off an awful stench. He backed away, holding his nose, and
gestured at me to come out of the water.

When I came to him, he smiled at me and said, "And your name is...?"

"Jessan, fisherboy," I replied, adding, "at your service."

He laughed and, extracting from his pouch a folded piece of paper,
offered it to me, saying, "Well, then, to prove you are who you say,
read this--for the true Jessan, I have been told, knows his letters."

I took the note without speaking and opened it. I was half afraid that
my reading skills had left me from long disuse, but I parsed these
simple words easily enough.

Dear Jessan, the person who gives you this note is to be trusted as you
would trust me. Do as he says without too many questions, for he has
not been told many answers. I will explain everything when my old eyes
are eased by the sight of you. Your loving granny, Grysta

I passed the note to Alfrund after I finished it. In even those few
words I clearly heard the sound of Grysta's voice, which greatly eased
my fears. Alfrund read the note, smiled, and dropped it into the fire.

"Jessan," he said, "I have other clothes hidden for us on the far side
of the pool. Is there anything in your bundle that you treasure and
wish to keep?"

I thought of the sorry collection of ragged stuff it held and shook my
head. "I own nothing of any value at all." "You will soon find that
that is not true," Alfrund said, picking up and opening my bag and
looking inside, "although this stuff...." He tipped its contents into
the fire, tossed it in as well, and reached down for my long shirt, my
only piece of clothing.

"Ha," he said, reaching into its single pocket, "you will at least want
to keep this."

A curse upon my head; I'd forgotten Faryn's gift! "Thank you," I said,
reaching over and taking the little carving. "If that had gone into the
fire, so would have my heart."

"We had better find you some twine, then," Alfrund said as he gave it to
me, "to fasten it safely around your neck. Was that the gift from the
one who kissed you goodbye?"

"Faryn," I replied. "My twerë."

"It was a good gift for a parting," Alfrund said, adding, "I mean both
the dolphin and the kiss."
The fire burnt hotly and then went out, for fabric does not last long in
flames. Alfrund and I quickly covered it over with stones, which he had
been gathering for that purpose. Then we waded across the pool. He
halted me at its further side, while we were still in the water. He
drew a small cloth bag from his pouch and opened it, revealing a
pungent-smelling crushed herb.

He held this out to me, and when I took it, he reached down and scooped
up a small amount of water in one hand and with the other took a
generous pinch from the bag, which he sprinkled into his cupped palm.
He then mixed it with his finger until it became a sort of green
sludge.

This he began wiping on his body, not thickly, but in wet smears. He
replenished the paste as he needed to, applying it most generously in
his arm pits and around his groin. On a burlier man the result might
have inspired fear, but on one as slight as Alfrund, who in build was
much like me, it would more likely inspire laughter, and I couldn't
help smiling.

"Smile all you want," he said, "for I'm sure you will wear it with more
grace than I."

"I'm to do this, too?" I asked. He nodded and retrieved the bag from my
hand. "This is dogbane," he said. "Dogs cannot bear it and are
compelled to avoid it. It will throw the dogs that are now pursuing us
off our trail."

"Dogs?" I asked.

"I fear so," he answered. "You saw them caged on the war galley. They
have probably already been sent to hunt us down. They are frightening
animals, but those who command them are more terrifying still."

I looked at him in astonishment, my mind swarmed with questions. But, as
before, Alfrund cut them short, saying, "Jessan, I know you are
desperate for explanations. But the more I tell you the more I put your
life in danger. Please let Grysta guide you and trust me and my silence.
I will explain everything the moment I can. Meanwhile," and here he
gestured with the little sack of dogbane, "hand me the carving and get
to work."

So it was that I bent down, caught some water in my cupped palm, made a
paste with dogbane, and began a new life. When wet, the dogbane was
slick and rubbed easily onto my body. As I smeared it about as I'd seen
him do, the scent of it seemed almost revolting, and I hoped it would
fade when it began to dry. Still, those huge black creatures had been
scary enough when I'd seen them pacing in their cages.

The thought that they were even now racing down the track in hot
pursuit.... Stinking to high heaven was nothing if the stench would
shake them from our trail. I began to shiver, not only out of fear but
because the sun had crossed over us and begun its descent, and its
warmth was ebbing with it.

"That's good enough," Alfrund said, pulling the drawstrings to close the
bag and returning it to his pouch. "The paste will quickly dry and our
new clothing is near." He led me to the rock ledge and we followed it a
short way into the forest to a small cave where Alfrund had left two
leather packs well covered with brush.

He passed one to me and the first thing I found inside was a long shirt
of broadcloth, which I quickly slipped over my head. It was coarsely
woven but clean and nicely fitting, and I felt it made some
compensation for the dogbane.

The next item I pulled out, a small and flimsy pair of pants made of
soft material, puzzled me, for I'd never seen the like. "What are
these?" I asked Alfrund, holding them up.

He glanced over. "You are a bumpkin," he said. "Those are small pants,
to be worn under your other clothing. In the parts where we are headed,
to not wear them is to mark yourself as, well, easy."

Stung by the word "bumpkin," I answered, "Well, I don't need them, then,
because the general opinion in my village is that I am easy."

Alfrund laughed. "I already know that," he said, "having seen the sticky
residue from your last lovemaking on your belly. It takes more than a
cold swim to sluice that away."

I felt myself blushing furiously. "I..., you...," I stammered, but
before I could put any words together, Alfrund  came over and put his
hands on my shoulders.

"Jessan," he said apologetically, "I forgot we hardly know each other.
I'm truly sorry. You will find me a merciless tease--but I mean nothing
by it other than expecting to be paid back in my own coin. In fact, I
was glad to discover that you had someone with whom to say a sweet
goodbye. I imagined your life in that village to have been all
loneliness and gloom."

I looked back into his eyes and realized that there were tears in mine.
"His name is Faryn. I had just that one time with him. And now...." I
lowered my head. Alfrund squeezed my shoulders and said, "Then I'm
doubly sorry and shall now go wash my mouth with dogbane."

I smiled slightly and answered, "No! You smell bad enough already." I
pushed him away and we returned to our dressing. Or, rather, thinking I
was dressed, continued to rummage through my pack. In it I was delighted
to find a pair of leather sandals, which were strongly made and laced up
over my calves.

In our village, common dress for men and women was a long shirt,
differing only in length--being short for children, longer for men, and
longer still for women. Our dress clothes were exactly the same, except
of slightly finer cloth and decorated with embroidery, especially the
women's. In bitter cold weather we wore thick woolen leggings and bound
our feet in pelts. Leather, since we didn't raise cattle, was an almost
unknown luxury, and no one owned a pair of sandals that were a match to
these.

Alfrund was dressed as I, except that his shirt was made of much finer
stuff and, since he had achieved manhood, it was clasped around his
waist with a leather belt. To this he was fitting his knife sheath and
fastening his pouch, when he noticed me attempting to puzzle out the
lacing of the sandals.

"Let me show you," he said, coming over, "but first...." He drew out his
knife and cut a short length from the end of their leather thongs.
"Here," he continued, "string your dolphin on this and I will tie it
around your neck."

As I did so, he squatted down to tie up my sandals, only to immediately
exclaim, "What sort of herbalist am I? Sit on this stone and lift up
your leg so that I can examine it." He began to carefully probe around
the scraped area on my knee with the tips of his fingers. The gash had
long stopped bleeding but the area around it had turned a dark purple,
edged with yellow.

"This must be sore, I know, but the wound is clean and a scab is
forming; we needn't worry about it," Alfrund said, moving his attention
to my foot. He gently moved my toes back and forth as I winced from the
pain. "No bones broken, happily," he said, "but it will still make for
painful walking. Nothing can be done about that now, because we want to
leave no scent but the dogbane. But tonight I will concoct a poultice
that will greatly ease the hurt."
We headed back to the track, cutting through the forest so that we would
reach it far beyond the stream and so some distance from where we had
turned off it before. Alfrund had brought out a small bundle that
contained thin rounds of coarse flatbread that is eaten by travelers
and many people in winter, which is why it is made with a hole in the
middle, allowing quantities of it to be hung on a length of twine from
the rafters, out of reach of mice and hungry children.

So we gnawed on these for a bit. Then Alfrund asked, "How far before
this have you traveled from your village?"

"Not even as far as here," I replied.

"I'm not surprised," he said. "If you have wondered why we have yet to
meet a single soul in our travels, it is because no one in their right
mind would do so. The mountains often come right down to the sea, and
villages like yours are scattered far and wide in the steep narrow
valleys between the spurs. We are sticking to this track because our
enemy will think we plan to soon steal a boat and they will be wasting
time watching for us out at sea. At least on foot we have a chance to
hide if they come along behind us.

"We are heading now for the only place of any consequence in these
parts, the trading town and seaport called Gedd where your Grysta
lives. We have friends waiting for us there, and other things as well,
for we have a great distance to travel, and all this is merely the
beginning of our journey."

I took hold Alfrund's arm. "I know I'm not to ask questions," I said,
"but I think I deserve at least the answer to one. Am I not still your
bondslave?"

Alfrund laughed. "I hope that hasn't been on your mind all this time!
No. That was just an arrangement that I knew your stepfather would be
quite happy to accept." He placed his hand on top of my head, as if
blessing me. "Consider yourself now unbound and unenslaved."

I sighed. "I suppose I should be happy to be released so easily. But, in
truth, I was just starting to think that having you as my master might
not be such a bad thing, at all. So what then am I?"

Alfrund glanced at me. "Somewhere between what you were and what you are
to become. There are worse places to be. However, if I cannot yet tell
you who you are, I can tell you what to say you are, should anyone ask:
my apprentice. You may have to play that role for some time, so once we
reach Gedd we will begin to take it seriously. I think you have a quick
mind and a good dose of herbalist learning won't do you any harm."

Alfrund let me ponder on this a bit and then seized my shoulder. "Look
ahead," he said. "We are about to emerge from this bit of forest back
into the open, for now the track runs for leagues along the shore. So,
from this point on, no talking. And no thinking, either. Just keep your
eyes and ears open. If we are lucky enough to get any warning at all, it
will likely require all our alertness to recognize it in time."