SPIRIT WALKER

Chapter 11: Grim Preparations (part 2 of 2)

Phylomon looked at the floor reflectively, "I am an enemy to Craal and all its minions, even those who think themselves to be good people. Do you remember the woman your father sold into slavery, Javan Tech?"

Wisteria shook her head.

"She remembers you," Phylomon said. "She worked cleaning in the palace of Lord Thanafir at Greenstone. She was not old, but she was starling thin, a drudge who scrubbed beer and dog piss from the floors in the Lord's dining hall. Her left breast had been removed, as are the breasts of all women slaves in Craal once the Lords have tired of using them for toys. She coughed frequently when she spoke, sometimes spitting blood, claiming fumes from the lye she used to clean had eaten her throat raw, and she told me of her home in Smilodon Bay. She remembered this place as heaven. She said, 'It's such a beautiful place, with redwoods and the mountains and the sea.' She said, 'Beremon, when he took me as a slave, he treated me kind. Didn't beat me bad, or anything. He even let his little girl bring me food and water.'"

Wisteria's eyes widened, and she stepped back, as if afraid Phylomon would draw his sword and deliver a killing blow, but the blue man continued, "I won't kill you for what your parents made you do. Javan said your father was the best master she ever had. She loved this town, wanted to return with all her heart. But even if I had freed her, she was too ill to make the voyage home." Phylomon watched Wisteria a moment. "You hear only rumors of the evil of the Slave Lords in Craal, but I've seen the evil done to that woman. I didn't kill your parents just because they sold her into slavery—I killed them because of the greater crimes committed to Javan afterward."

Phylomon fell silent. For a moment no one spoke. He continued. "You say you want to get out of this town, but you must think me a fool. You would not seek the company of your father's executioner!"

"I can endure your company," Wisteria said. "As long as I can be with the man I love. I have no home here—you made sure of that—, nothing left but him."

Scandal broke in with a bit of trepidation. "Sir, you tell a good story, but I believe you were duped," he told Phylomon. "It doesn't settle right."

"What do you mean?" Phylomon asked.

"Well, it's easier to hammer an octopus 'til it's tender than to put it into words, but, as I told you earlier, that Javan Tech was the Queen Bitch of the town. I think she played upon your sympathies to get you to exact vengeance—and vengeance isn't always the same as justice." Scandal shook his head. "That Javan—she clung to Elyssa like a tick on a sheep. Elyssa just couldn't shake her. I've been sitting here all day thinking about it. You know, Elyssa borrowed some nails from Javan—the copper kind, from Damis—and when Elyssa paid her back, Javan threw a fit. She claimed the bag was light and the nails were inferior quality, and she stumped up and down the street telling everyone, as if she were trying to convince folks that they ought to just take Beremon and Elyssa out in a boat and dump them into the bay.

"Well, Elyssa tried to make it up to Javan. She got several witnesses, me included, and we went to Javan's door, and Elyssa apologized, saying, 'Look, Javan, I've always valued our friendship. I would never cheat you—not on purpose, not on accident. Here's fifty pounds of nails, all copper ones from Damis, in five different sizes. I want you to have them with my apologies.'

"But you know how some people like to nurse their wrath. Javan threw the nails at Elyssa's feet and shouted, 'I know what you're up to! You're trying to put it all on me! You're trying to blame it on me. Well, you're a cheapskate and a thief and everyone will know it!"

Phylomon weighed the innkeeper's tale against his own. Both of them were probably accurate, yet he couldn't quite see all of the truth from where he sat. It was as if the the heart of the matter became obscured the more one examined the stories.