Chapter 8: Part 8: The Eye of Judgement

Sitting pride of place in the middle of the road just as the junction split, sat the arrow-like wooden pillar of the village's Várastång. The twin hoops that hung from each of the pillar's crossbars were fashioned of straw as was common this time of year, with hops and other autumnal flowers woven in.

An offering to the triple goddess Várvörsága, in Her aspect of Vára; The All-Mother, Goddess of Oaths and Agreements. An old folk custom intended either to tempt — or perhaps to remind — Her of Her vows to protect Her children through the long dark seasons that lay before them.

You didn't hardly see them in the larger cities these days, not unless the temples had trotted one out for a specific high holy day. And even then it was more a half-hearted effort. The bare minimum necessary for her priests to demand an offering and provide the general populace an excuse to get well and publicly drunk.

If you began heading east, you would be even less likely to see one. Their popularity tended to abate in inverse proportion the further in that direction you traveled. Right on up until you hit the unofficial borders of the Church's influence, and then you wouldn't see them at all.

Sebastian had heard the Church of the Arc was making a concerted effort to stamp them out. It's priests calling anything to do with the Goddess and Her whole Pantheon outdated, a mere superstition. It was certainly having an effect — enough to have dimmed her popularity even in the west where the magelords held sway.

Never ones to let an opportunity pass them by, they had quickly seen the value of trying to supplant Her veneration with a sort of apocryphal cult around themselves, both individually and around mages in general.

But the tradition was old, woven into the very warp and weft of a villager's life. A comfort from cradle to grave — and perhaps even beyond if you were a true believer. You still found them proudly displayed in small villages like these. In the larger, more 'enlightened' cities too you could reasonably expect there to be a small family shrine somewhere in the house.

Even Sebastian himself wasn't immune. The old ways ingrained in him too deeply to be forgotten perhaps, though it had been decades since he was anything like a child. He found himself unconsciously making the sign of the arrow as they drew near, the gesture that he had been taught so long ago could call on the Goddess's protection.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the alderman's gaze on him. Curious perhaps that a Relict would subscribe to or even know the old ways.

The man quickly looked away, surreptitiously making the sign of the arrow himself. Though this one was in Sebastian's direction. The old man asking the Goddess for protection against the Relict, where he obviously thought Sebastian couldn't see.

At the minor — probably even unconscious — insult from the otherwise friendly seeming alderman Sebastian's mood dimmed even further, which…He honestly hadn't even thought it could possibly worsen at this point, so low was he now.

Get the payment, get the directions, and get the FUCK away from these damn humans, he thought to himself, grinding his teeth.

 

*****

 

Under the Várastång sat the village well, a simple hand pump next to which had been erected a set of wooden stocks. The stocks, the well, the marketplace — all of it had been built under the watchful eye of Várvörsága. That She in all of Her aspects might keep watch and judge those who broke faith or carried with them ill intent.

And around those stocks in particular now crowded a largish group of jeering children. Probably even the same ones Sebastian had heard earlier.

They appeared to be highly interested in whichever unlucky sod had gotten himself locked in the stock's embrace, doing no great favors in easing the punishment of the accused as they taunted and threw refuse at their trapped victim.

High entertainment indeed in these parts.

"Shoo now," the alderman said to the pack of giggling children loitering in the town square as they approached. "Go’wan back home you scamps, I’m sure your parents can find something that needs doing more than this mischief."

The children laughed and scattered as Sebastian and the alderman neared. Their parting revealed a man with his ankles imprisoned between the wooden boards of the town’s stocks.

Somehow he was fast asleep despite all the commotion.

"Ah, here we are!" the alderman said, drawing to a stop near the prisoner. "One bard for to be guiding you, sir, just as I promised."

Sebastian glared at the alderman as best he could with one eye, his other still swollen shut and throbbing hotly in pain.

His glare cut to the aforementioned bard, obliviously laid out dozing drunkenly on a patch of ambitious greenery that had somehow managed to take root here in the hard-packed dirt.

The bard looked peaceful, almost as if he had chosen this little napping spot himself. He was covered in little flowers the children had apparently made a game of piling on top of him as he slept — buttercups and dandelions, harebells and corncockles, cow parsley and daisies and cornflowers, lady's bedstraw and bluebells and yarrow…

Sebastian scowled at himself. The fight and the injury and the ride back had really taken it out of him if his mind was wandering off cataloging flowers. He had things to do and places to be, and none of them were here.

He was wasting time.

He kicked the bard’s foot, startling the man into wakefulness.

"Whazzat...Who dares? I’ll have you know I was…mmm — Oh, hello?" the man said groggily, finally seeming to wake up enough to take in his unusual surroundings.

When his gaze landed on Sebastian he froze, his jaw practically dropping open.

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Sebastian grimaced, knowing what was going to come next.

The human would see the injury, the telltale blue shimmer of his misteel sword, his runegloves, his pendant, the silver cat eyes —

— or, well…at least one eye because of the swelling —

— and then he would be frightened, or disgusted, or maybe he would even act friendly enough to Sebastian's face while secretly wishing him ill like this alderman here…

Leaving Sebastian stuck in this no-horse town trying to make it through the swamps alone.

Which was…Which was fine, right?

S'what he wanted.

Wasn't it?

His head hurt too much for this.

But to his surprise, the bard didn't go for any of that.

"Are you alright?" he asked Sebastian, concern evident in his voice and expression.

Actual concern too — no rapid heartbeat indicating deception, no change in the man's scent that meant fear.

Just…a wide-eyed and open curiosity as he looked at the Relict in front of him.

Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Okay, maybe not what he was expecting then.

Or the man was just better than most at masking.

"And that neatly brings us to why we are here," the alderman said, interrupting Sebastian's thoughts. "Congratulations, bard. Your sentence has been commuted. This gentleman here needs a guide to take him to the next town over. If you'll agree to help guide this poor injured warrior to find healing, I’ll let you out of the stocks and you can both be on your way."

The bard tilted his head oddly as he looked at the alderman in thought. "And if I don’t agree?"

"Why then, you'll be put to work to pay off your debt to our community, won’tcha?" the alderman informed the bard cheerfully. "This here gentleman did a job for us, and his payment was to be the cask broken in the fight you started. Kellas also says several of his tables and chairs were smashed in the brawl as well. Now, lucky for you it’s planting season so there’s always someone be needing a hand. Unlucky for you, the job don’t pay too well."

The alderman squinted at the sound of giggling children, hiding somewhere close enough they could still hear. Entertainment like this was a rarity in these sorts of places. They would likely be telling this story to their families over supper tonight.

"And then of course there’ll be your food and board for however long you stay with us," the alderman continued. "And I do dare say that I bet ol’ Kellas won’t be giving you his friendly rate after’n today. Nor will he be wanting you playing in his tavern and stirring up the crowd like that again. Gonna make it hard to you to repay your debt very quickly, iffin you ask me. Plus there'll be incidentals o’ course — minders fees for whoever we’ve got to set to watch and make sure you don’t try and run off. And I’m sure you'll be wanting something else to work in than those fancy clothes you've got on there. A few days in the fields and they’ll be fit naught but for rags, I’d wager. Plus, there's — "

"Alright, alright — I get the picture," the bard interrupted the alderman with a grimace. "Fine. I accept your bargain as you’ve made it. In place of stocks and apparently being made the village bondman, I agree to help this man until he is properly healed. Do we have a deal?"

"Aye, that should do well enough," the alderman said with a satisfied grin, unlocking the stocks using a small key on the ring of them that hung from his belt.

The bard gingerly did a few ankle circles before carefully standing up, turning to Sebastian with a bright smile on his cherubic face.

"So," the bard asked cheerfully, "what’s your name then? Where are we headed? And did you know it looks like some devil has gored half your face?"

Sebastian sighed.

 

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Author's Notes:

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