Griffin's Fate

Chapter Four - Part Two

The tujini was still parked by the far wall, but their oil lamp flickered inside. The back flap Ken had sealed with traders' knots now hung free. The ropes were meticulously laid out on the ground in the same crisscross pattern. A hushed voice was speaking inside. The only weapon at hand was a broom and Ken slipped the rough wooden handle into his fingers. Of course it had to be a broom. He prepared his lungs to wake all of Cleda, and jabbed the pole into the tent's slit to fling the flap wide.

The Herrige boy was hunched among their stacked zaajinwa crates like a startled rat in a pantry. A glossy blue, open orus case was cradled in his lap, casting a mask-like whiteness over his features. Ken scowled at both unwelcome surprises. His Mum must have swiped the orus from his desk.

"Oi!" Ken brandished the meaner end of the broom and barked his words low, like Cufric at the Lyon's Heart. "What d'you think you're doing?"

The young man blinked at him numbly then gazed back upon the orus.

"Answer me!" Ken knew he wasn't scary, but the trespasser winced and sucked in a choppy breath.

"M...Ma made me snoop," Tovil stuttered, his mind leagues away. "Found this in your trunk." He snapped the case shut and set it aside, displaying his empty palms. "He said I'll be leaving soon." Tovil tucked tighter into a ball and wiped his crisp white sleeve across his cheeks.

"Who?" Ken hoisted himself into the back of the tujini, rocking it under his weight. It was a tight fit for two. He was shaking, but the other was in worse shape.

"Your old man in the glass." Tovil tipped his flowing head of hair at the case. "Said I need to find saltwater if I'm to be happy. On...on account of being 'touched." The last bulwark came down and Tovil's frame was racked with sobs.

"It spoke to you?" Ken whispered. "And you're a m—?"

Tovil nodded and spat out a line of hot, impressive curses.

"What kind?"

"Water, I...I guess." Tovil relaxed his arms and shoulders just a little. "Don't think anyone else has caught wind but I've seen the signs for a while. Little trickles. Raindrops falling funny." He wriggled his fingers playfully then sat on his hands, afraid. "But I always heard if you pay It no mind It leaves you be!" His pale blue eyes pleaded for answers. "But me and my folks had a fight yesterday and you saw the weather last night."

"I...I dunno friend. I wish that were true. I don't know anything about how It works."

Tovil's face shifted at his answer. He became brooding, with an uncivil glint in his handsome eyes.

"See, your ghost friend told me different," he said hotly. "That this is somehow your fault. How's that, exactly?"

The tujini betrayed Ken with a loud creak as he inched back towards the exit. His elbows knocked things into the aisle.

"What? I've got nothing to do with you being feytouched!"

"Oh stow it. You're heading to Melvary."

"Y...You're being moony. Spirits can't talk. And...and my mess just started two nights ago. And it certainly didn't involve mucking up the sky like a bleedin' harvest god!"

Tovil's eyes flashed with surprise. His brows knit in confusion, then something deeper. He held up his left hand and ran his thumb along his manicured fingers, studying their fluid movements under the lamplight.

"Like a god, huh?"

Ken remembered folks contained a lot of water, and his hand sought out the tent flap behind him. But Tovil was placid again, and even a little sarcastic.