The Scholar's Tale (Original Fantasy)

Book II, Chapter 4

"A man looking for everything will never find anything."-Blind Bjarco, reader of appendages;

Well, that wasn't eerie at all.

'Is the impression really necessary?' I asked Ib. 'Just the words is fine.'

'Nonsense!' Three laughed. 'Don't listen to him, Ib! Woah-hey! Can you do the sound the Seaworm made when it burst apart?'

'I am not sure,' the giant admitted, now speaking normally. 'This...moulding of my voice is new to me. I think. Unless...?' it tilted its head meaningfully at Three.

'What, you think you've done it before and forgotten about it? Nah. Or, if you did, I've forgotten too.' Three was now floating normally, having spun so his feet almost touched the ground. 'But that's a good sign! Isn't it, Ryz?'

'That Ib can mimick voices?' The ghost nodded rapidly, and the giant turned to me. 'Well...I suppose it will be useful in future shows. Mharra and I won't have to drink that awful stuff again to sound different.'

Three scoffed. 'Don't be bloody dense, Ryz. Don't you see? We're getting closer to the Free Fleet-'

'Actually, we haven't even started tracking them.'

'We're getting closer to the Free Fleet,' The ghost insisted. 'And it shows. Ib is doing stuff it never could before. It's obvious that, the closer its home is, the better it feels. Right, Ib?'

The grey being didn't answer. Instead, it seemed lost in one of those trances it had suffered before its memory had gotten better. Back when it couldn't remember that we were going after the Fleet, or why.

Speaking of that...

'What do you mean, its home?' I asked Three quietly. I didn't like speaking about Ib like it wasn't here, but, well, it wasn't. Not in mind, at least. Of course, whispering was pointless when it could hear a fly's heartbeat from leagues away, but it was the thought that counted.

Three sighed. 'Are you acting dense again? I thought you were a smart fellow, Ryzhan.'

And I thought Three was nice, if absent-minded, not a condescending arse. 'Let's pretend I am a fool. What confirmation, or even hints, do we have of Ib's ties to the Fleet?'

'Um...did one of those Ghyrrians clout you behind the ear? Their leader said that as they left. Remember him? Big man, stiff-necked, kind of a jackass?'

'I remember Sahmui, yes.' How could I not? He apparently had an ability similar to mine, though his didn't require touch. And I knew memories forced upon others never faded. It was like the rape of the mind, which was one of the many reasons I'd been on the run for over a decade.

Sahmui had been closer to the truth than I'd have liked. And the fact Mharra's crew accepted me, or at least didn't try to turn me away or kill me, made them...suspect.

I wasn't foolish enough to believe old sailors like them were completely innocent. But what had these three seen and done that they barely flinched at the reveal of how I broke my parents' minds?

'Well,' Three said, breaking me out of my contemplation. 'People like him-those who value righteousness and see themselves as always being in the right-almost never lie. Or if they do, they do so due to ignorance, or by omission.'

'Or to "villains".' I sighed at the word so beloved and loathed alike in Ghyrria. 'Which I'm sure I count as, by Sahmui's standards.'

Three nodded. 'Well, yeah. I do too. He definitely got a sour look on his face after he learned of my ghostriding.'

'Pardon?' I frowned. 'Do you mean ghostwriting? Did you...write books for other people? What's so evil about that?' Unless, of course, he had handled some thinking grimoire for a mad mage.

And it was interesting to learn Sahmui could learn the memories of ghosts as well.

Three laughed. 'C'mon now, Ryz. I know some people think I've got a thick accent, but you understood what I said. Don't you know what ghostriding is?'

'I imagine it involves people of dubious inclinations.'

'Pffft-! How elegant! Yes, dubious is one way to put it. You see, I once spent several years on an island called Xholkho's Rest. Ever heard of it? Or happened to visit?' I shook my head, and he shrugged. 'Well, on that island, I struck a deal with some of the more unscrupulous advocates. The ones who defended murderers, rapists, grave-robbers, monster-summoners...you know the type.'

'I've never met an advocate willing to defend me, actually.'

'Bah. I'd say your luck's shit, but I think you're just awful at presenting your case. Anyway...those people of dubious inclinations you mentioned, Ryzhan, didn't come to me...' Three broke off in a snicker. 'Well, they did. But they didn't look for me because they wanted to bed a ghost, see? Most of them were small people with small lives and nothing to lose-if they let the big, bad ghost possess them, they-I-could do any awful thing, then claim their bodies had been taken over. Most of them loved to watch, of course. They told me what they'd like to happen, and I made their dreams-and everyone else's nightmares-reality.'

How...generous. 'I presume you did those things because you were paid?'

Three hid his smirk behind the rim of his mug. 'I didn't dislike them, either.'

He rolled his eyes at my expression. 'Oh, don't be a hypocrite, Ryz. Unlike someone else I could mention, I only entered willing minds. And left them whole after, too. You should try it some time.'

'Why, the thought had never entered my head,' I said drily. 'I bow to your great wisdom, master ghost. I suppose three heads really are better than one...even if they share one mind.'

Three's smirk was knife-edged. 'I see why you resort to magic to hurt others. I thought you'd be better with words, to make up for such a weak body, but...no matter.'

I didn't like the way this conversation was heading. Why the Pit was I even arguing with Three? I didn't give a damn about his past. And he didn't hate me for mine, though it was worse.

Three's smirk softened. 'What do you know about the Triarchs, Ryz?'

'Well, in your religion-'

'In fact.'

'-they maintain Creation, which is cyclical. It has been created and destroyed countless times at this point. Xhaarkon creates, Zhaarhax destroys, and Yghvlaar maintains balance between its siblings, as well as existence as a whole.'

'Mhm. What you don't know is that I was a Zhaaraxhite in those days. My old mother had been dead for only a few years, and I was raging against this uncaring world. Zhaarhax destroys, but only that. If it was alone, it would destroy everything, forever. Xhaarkon has the opposite problem. Yghvlaar can't make or break anything by itself...so it was obvious, to me, which god was the best to follow. Perhaps, if I caused enough strife, Zhaarhax would notice and destroy Midworld, or at least me.'

The table was silent for some time. Three was staring into his mug, and Ib still seemed entrance. I cleared my throat to break the ice.

'You mentioned some advocates?'

Three raised his head, nodding vigorously. 'Oh, yes! See, they defended my customers after they were done indulging themselves, and half of the money and goods they got by winning their cases went to me, since I made the whole mess possible.'

'You must be richer than I thought, then.'

The ghost laughed hollowly. 'Yes, it certainly helped fill the void...until Mharra happened by. He already had his romantic streak, even back then. He pretended to be interested in ghostriding, then trapped me into his body, and threatened to destroy me unless I gave up my life of sin.' He shrugged, smiling. 'And that's how I was recruited.'

'The captain seems to be a good man,' I said hesitantly, glancing at the table where Mharra was laughing with the former Fleet member. My captain had turned his mug upside down, and was shaping the liquor frozen in midair like it was clay.

'Any idea how he does it?' I asked Three, referring not just to this trick, but all the similar ones Mharra regularly pulled.

'Carefully?' The ghost shrugged again. 'It does a man no good to reveal everything, Ryz.'

'Aye. Aye, it does not...'

Even as I said that, I was thinking about Copper's Cradle again. About the people who had set out in pursuit of me, and failed to even approach.

An image of pale skin and blue hair flashed in my mind, and I almost laughed at the creeping nostalgia.

Was she still alive? Had she grown up to fear me, or hate me, if she was?

We certainly would not still be friends, if we met again.