The TwiceBorn

Uneasy Messiahs

"Take me down under the wishing tree...and lay your healing hands on me...on me..."--Marc Cohn

“Behrin’s philosophy.  Send a devil to catch a devil.”

“More like send a bitch to catch a bitch and when ya eye it like that, I already know who’s a goin’ belly up.  Whaffor you doin messed up in all of this, huh?”

 Winnie propped herself up on her forearms and stared intently at Gre.  He thought he caught a flicker of compassion in her eyes.

“Behrin’s my friend.  And he’s in love with Islinn.” 

“Ya can make new friends.” Winnie flatly stated.  “And lovin’a slave?  That’s the same as whut I got upstairs, ya can buy yerself some love right up there fer less than what yore doin’.  Get out of this mess.  And iffen ya think yore doin’ whut’s right, think agin.  The only thing that could make this come out right side up, is ya get that little gal and take her back to the Sentinels.”

Gre was quiet.   He ran his index finger around the rough lip of his tankard and stared down into the dark amber liquid for a moment as though he expected it to decide the best path for him to take. And why not? It had done it before in the past.

“Tell me something, Winnie…” He said, frowning.  “Which do you think is best for her…staying with The Twiceborn, being taken back to Behrin and belonging to Aubery along the way…or being taken back to the Sentinels?”

Winnie pursed her lips and her brows knitted together as she pondered the question.  She liked Gre and her first gut response was to tell him “none of the above” and to get out while the getting was good.  And with Aubery still cold-cocked on the floor, the time for getting out was excellent.

 For all the days she’d stood behind the bar, arms folded across her massive bosom and her eyes roaming the floor like a hawk looking for prey, she’d come to know quite a few of her patrons.  Knew more about them then they knew themselves, most likely.  And Gre was nothing but a man who’d been snake-bit from the get-go, in her book. 

If there was a pile of dog shit two roads down and one over, Gre would find a way to step in it.  And the worse part about it was he knew he was one unlucky son of a bitch.  He just didn’t know how to fix it and he held the mistaken belief that all the ale in the world might set it a’right.  What was the saying? You take a drink and finally, the drink takes you. Winnie had seen it time and time again but she hated to see it happen to Gre. 

And he always thought some kind of misguided loyalty would fix whatever it was that was wrong.  But the one thing Winnie had learned over the years was there wasn’t much right or wrong.  It was all about the givers and takers. 

“Well…to be honest…ya should take her back to the Sentinels.  That’s the proper thing to do, iffen that’s what she is.  But…who she’s best off with?  I never thought I’d heered this comin from my own lips, but she’s best off where she is now, Brede take me if I’m lyin.”  Winnie held up one pudgy hand to reinforce her words. 

Gre nodded, unsurprised by her answer.  The fact that Islinn was still alive told him Winnie was probably right.  Physically, that is. But mentally?  Knowing what he knew, The Twiceborn was probably a true affront to Islinn.  More so than all the Auberys and Behrins combined. 

“So…what’s this about belongin’ to Aubery on the way?” 

Winnie didn’t miss a trick.  She watched him and Gre wasn’t surprised to realize he recognized the sardonic lift to her eyebrow.  His mother had had that expression and it had the same effect on him.  He wanted to squirm on his stool like a kid caught stealing vegetables from the market.