Flow of Life

The outpost stood isolated, far from the closest city. It received little business. Surrounding it were old villages, the kind where people died in the same house where they were born. Villages which few people left, and even fewer moved in. They had no use for mail. Anyone they knew could be reached in less than half a day’s walk. The outpost, made to serve a purpose, did so to perfection.

Carter laid down the heavy old memoir he’d been reading, and parked his wagon at the shed out front. He patted Roseen’s brown red coat and she neighed softly. His trusted draft’s discipline freed to read against the warmth of his pyro’s glove without the worry of keeping to the road.

He took his time and care when chaining her. She was strong, but could still be hurt by the iron if tied incorrectly. For other horses iron chains would be excessive. He wasn’t worried that she’d run off, but her breed would be a thief’s prize. He left her with some hay and a pat, and entered the outpost.

The seemingly decaying building, filled with chipped plaster and rusty door hinges, would have gone unnoticed by most. A closer inspection would reveal it to be in better shape than it first appeared: a supporting beam was recently replaced, and the roof was well tarred, only the cosmetics were left to crumble.

Inside, a few well-cushioned seats and rough benches spread around a large waiting hall, and only a single table. Not much furniture was needed.

Pasio, the owner, wasn’t behind the long wooden counter separating the hall from the back room. Carter saw only two large men who sat in the corner. Oddly, the old man changed the seating arrangement since Carter was last there. The men sat on benches which faced each other, instead of the regular adjacency to the walls. The men eyed Carter in silence as he entered, tracking him with their stares.

The one facing him, dark haired and clean-shaven, leaned aside, glaring at Carter, for a better look before sitting back straight. He murmured something to the other man, one with reddish-brown hair and a short beard, and turned back around. Both were too well-built to be local villagers.

Carter sat down at a side chair, waiting for Pasio to return with their package, and opened a book from his bag, Gold From The Stone. The dark-haired man’s eyes shifted back to his companion, and they resumed a quiet conversation.

“Quartz: A hard, crystalline mineral, usually clear or white…”

Carter read no more than a couple of pages and retained none of it. The air around those two was too eerie. Pasio was too quiet. Carter tried to avoid panic from what was likely to be a baseless worry. Still holding the book and occasionally flipping pages, he stopped reading and instead focused on their conversation.

“But what of that farmer who wanted us to find the horse thief? More than two weeks of work, and we’ve got nothing,” said the darker-haired one.

The other shifted in his seat. “I’m just saying I never imagined I’d be working in a place like this.”

“It’s the easiest money you’ll ever make, so don’t worry.” The first one sounded eager. “No one’s coming out to the edge of the empire. And it’s better than patrol, isn’t it?”

“I don’t mind them.” Though his back was to Carter, his head bobbed noticeably when he shrugged. “I would have stayed if King Ferrex hadn’t decimated the army.”

“Such exaggerations,” the beardless man laughed, then fell into sudden hushed silence and looked around. “Not everything is the king,” he continued in a lower voice Carter found difficult to decipher. “Good luck finding a decent-paying job at any lord’s guard.”

Carter feigned interest in his book when the other glanced back at him again, before mumbling something he couldn’t quite hear. Pasio was taking too long, and Carter could no longer wait.

“Excuse me.” Carter put his book down, stood up, and approached them with reserved caution. “Do you know what’s keeping the owner?”

As Carter drew closer to the two, he noticed a man lying on the bench behind them, a coat covering his face. The man removed it and sat up just enough to lean on his elbows, yawned and wiped his eyes.

Young, not even twenty. He raised his thick, bushy eyebrows and shot his thin, sharp face in a stare at Carter. “I’m the owner,” he said, and studied Carter intently. “A traveler passing through? The scales are on the counter, and prices are on the map.” He pointed them out and then lay back down. “Pay when you’re done, I’ll check it later.”

“Listen,” Carter fussed, “I’m looking for the owner, Pasio.”

“Well, he’s dead.” Carter froze as the young man’s casual tone hit him like the cold wind. “Something in his gut. I’m the owner now. Who are you?”

A wave of disappointment struck Carter. He had wasted two months. Going to Patrea strayed far from his usual route, and he did so for nothing.

“Ethan Harefer.” It was a mix of names of people he knew long ago in a place far from here, and the name used with those he mistrusted.

Before Carter had the chance to ask for his, the young man’s eyes lit up, and he rushed to speak. “Oh, you’re here for that. You should have said so!” He jolted up before Carter could respond.

The two men tensed, and Carter, even more nervous, took an instinctive step back. Something was wrong. “Who are you?”

“His son.” The young man smiled. “And the new owner. You came for the hydro barrel, right?”

Carter took another step back. The boy might have been naive to a perilous degree, or the situation could be much worse. The two musclemen the young man had with him made for an uncommon sight in this poor area near the Zasther border. Employing them was certainly not something that Pasio would have done. They drew more attention than any protection they could provide. And to Carter, their presence raised the suspicion they robbed and murdered Pasio — and could be planning to do the same to him.

“Don’t worry,” the young man continued, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. “We’ll keep the same deal you had with my father. I’m not planning on changing things without notice. He always said that trust was the basis of good business.” He stopped, leaned back, and wore a smug, deceptive smile.

Warning flags waved in Carter’s mind. The young man had jumped straight to business, and no honest man demands trust so explicitly. Carter’s eyes jumped from the door to his bag in the corner, and landed on the three men in front of him and the swords’ pommels protruding from their robes.

Carter breathed deeply to calm his mind and assess things more clearly while keeping a fixed smiling appearance. The Nomos Enforcers weren’t known for long investigations. He would have been burnt by now if they had caught Pasio. Or more likely, this outpost would have been up in flames long before his arrival. They favored compliance through awe and intimidation over any real investigation.

With that risk in mind, Carter stayed put, too much depended on that deal. “Oh, it’s not business that worries me.” His shoulders slumped. “Pasio was a good friend of mine. The news of his death just troubled me.” Taking careful, measured steps, he retreated towards his seat. “Mind joining me to reminisce over a hot drink?”

Carter searched his bag for his tea set, “I’ve got a box of leaves from Vatan. I’d be proud to share a cup with Pasio’s son.”

The young man jittered in anxious impatience. “The stove is in the back.” He signaled to the lighter-haired muscleman, “Pronator, go help him with the stove.”

“There’s no need.” Carter held out his copper kettle to the man. “Just fill it with clean water.” He smiled as a clean, almost invisible flame danced above his left glove. The three men froze. No, they weren’t Nomos Enforcers. Being this far on the empire’s edge, encountering a pyro’s blessing was a rarity. And Carter hoped it would give them a second thought on any plan of attack. If only that second thought wouldn’t be one further tempting their greed.

Carter sat at the lone table, trying to appear as confident as possible. But he noticed the men remained frozen, their hands hovering near their pommels. He might have pushed too far. That realization struck him suddenly. “Oh, that?” He dismissively flickered his hand, coaxing the flame on and off. “I picked it up a few years ago from a gambling-addicted pyro. Very good for this chilly weather, and a useful tool on the road, too. Even saved my life once from a roadside gang.”

It hadn’t, but he had to convince them he wasn’t an enforcer while still making sure they realized he posed a threat not worthy of any possible reward.

“Anyway,” he continued, his tone as casual as he could muster, as if he’d only come to an ordinary workplace of an old friend, “it’s good to finally meet the son Pasio always talked about. ‘Ichabod did this,’ ‘Ichabod is so great at that.’” He purposefully used the wrong name. “I would have expected him to bring you into the business much sooner.”

The young man unsheathed his sword in a swift motion and took a step towards Carter. “Who are you? There’s no Ichabod here.”

Carter held his hands up, flames still flickering over his left. “Sorry about that. I’m not so great with names, but I’ve heard so many stories about you.” He forced a chuckle. “I remember one of you burning yourself trying to distill liquor. Ended up with nothing but vapors.”

“And a burn that cost several gold crowns to heal.” The young man burst into a laugh and sheathed his sword back. “But I was young. You can’t fault a fourteen year old for being entrepreneurial, can ya? Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. It’s Icarus.”

That was a lesson that took Carter long to learn, as it changed through his years: back when Ysia started distilling, much younger than Icarus, any mistake over a single copper round was often the difference between a good dinner and an empty plate. The boy laughed off lost gold. Accepting Auspicis’s gifts required both bravery and reverence.

Carter smiled at Icarus. The important thing was that Icarus was who he said he was. Although also an idiot.

Icarus released another snort of laughter. “You had me worried there for a moment. Thought you might be an enforcer.”

“A reasonable concern,” Carter acknowledged. “But it rings hollow after you blurted out about an extract moments after meeting me.”

Icarus sat down across from him. “I trust my instincts. I was right about you, wasn’t I? Even if you did gave me a little scare.”

Carter took the kettle of water and, with a steady flame from his glove, set it up to boil. “That wasn’t my intention. Just trying to be cautious. It’s very unusual for someone I’ve never met to talk business before anything else.”

A hint of red colored Icarus’s cheeks, but he soon shook it off. “I’m still getting the hang of things. Father ended up letting me into the business against his wishes. He wanted each of us to manage a portion of land, but with recent issues… The family needed someone to keep this side business running.” He paused, and a light sparked in his eyes. “Teres, there’s mead in the cabinet. Go bring it.” Icarus turned back to Carter. “We’ll add a little extra heat to the drink. For friends old and new.”

After the dark-haired guard returned with the mead, Icarus raised a spiced mug. Carter hesitated at drinking with him, but eventually raised his mug as well. Alcohol often loosens the tongue.

If more opportunities arose, a simple-minded, greedy partner could be easy to manage. But if ever things got hard, a simple-minded, greedy partner could be dangerous. Carter needed to get to know this partner better.

“Come on, enjoy yourself more.” Icarus refilled the mug he’d already emptied. “What’s the point of working under no lord if you can’t drink while ya at it?”

“So, can we enjoy some, too?” Teres asked with half a smile.

“When the deal is done,” Icarus answered. “For now, keep watch that no one enters. Both of you.”

Teres raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s safe to leave you two alone?”

“I trust my gut,” Icarus said. “And he can’t attack you through the door, can he? If something happens, don’t let him out.”

The two musclemen left, grunting at the cold outside and leaving the two to discuss their deal. Icarus poured himself another mug and topped off Carter’s. “Is the gold in the bag?”

The metal was cold against his skin. He appreciated greed, but the kid needed patience. “The barrel?”

Icarus went under the counter and took out a small, unassuming wooden box, a little bigger than a large jug. Carter uncoiled the gold bars tied around his chest, placing them on the table between them, playing with them back and forth. Icarus’s eyes followed them as if hypnotized. Even in the room’s dim light, the gold glistened with that ethereal unmistakable sheen gold forever kept.

With blank eyes, as by instinct, Icarus reached out to inspect the gold closer. Carter stopped his play and pulled the bars closer to himself. “The barrel?” he asked again.

“Of course.” Icarus snapped out of the gold’s charm and opened the box, slowly unwrapping the package inside. It revealed a small barrel, with a brass spout that looked like a later addition. “This is a rarity, especially here in Caeli Porta.” He winked and smiled.

Carter held his laughter. The boy’s patter was too forced.

“The nobles here call it an abomination, but they’re just afraid,” Icarus continued. “The nobles of Zasther see things differently. For them, these are sacred — used only to water the sacred gardens of the holiest temples.”

Carter laughed. “You know you don’t need to pitch it to me, right? We’ve already agreed on the price.”

Icarus’s face fell. “My father always said just making the sale wasn't enough. ‘They need to leave thanking Auspicis for getting you together.’”

Carter leaned back in his seat. The kid had a good heart. “Your father was a wise man. But the speech must fit the client. I know well enough of Zasther’s apostasy laws, and this so-called ‘Repentance.’ Though I wouldn’t mind hearing how your father got his hands on such a thing.”

“Not just him, I might get some more of it myself soon.” Icarus boasted. “And you might not mind, but I do. All I’ll say is, I have my ways.”

“So that aside, I care for two things,” Carter replied. “The amount of blessing in that barrel and your trustworthiness in this and any future deal.” He smiled. A good connection would be worth paying a little more. “If you really happen to find another extract for sale.”

Icarus took the kettle to pour another cup of tea, but it was empty. “Your interest is in its blessing?” He shook the barrel. No sound was heard — it was as full as it could be. He then used it to refill the kettle. And shook the barrel again. Once more, no sound was heard — it was still at capacity. “How about that little gem?”

“A fun showing to impress a lady,” Carter answered, “but we’re merchants. Our work is more precise than that.” He asked for the barrel, held it, and closed his eyes. Shutting away any distractions helped him get a more accurate sense of its blessing.

The slight warmth of the blessing bubbled around his finger, begging to be activated. More than ten, maybe eleven years of life were left in it. When it was created, it probably had twenty or more, but much of it had faded. And the power? He delved deeper, feeling the effort required to contain the blessing. A decent amount. The blessing’s original owner was likely to have been a mid-rank lord.

Carter picked five gold bars and handed them to Icarus, along with several crowns from the hidden pocket in his shoe. The rest of the gold bars he tied back against his chest.

Icarus seemed quite astonished. “That’s the exact amount my father said. Your accuracy is amazing. I’m usually off by a tenth, sometimes even a fifth.”

“There’s nothing special about it.” Carter placed the barrel back into its cushioned box. “It’s just practice and knowing my mistakes would be costly. You need a good supply of different extracts to get a sense of the years, but you can learn to sense power much easier by shaking many lords’ hands. Give them small gifts, or sell them rare items from far-off lands.”

“Good lessons.” Icarus walked behind the counter where he weighed the gold and tested it in a bath. “What else do you have for me?”

Carter ensured his gold tied firmly against his stomach before answering. “That scale bath is a sign of your inexperience. It works, but you can also learn the sound of gold.” He took out a gold crown with King Ferrex’s face and flicked it. It resonated with a clear, soft, mellow ting as it jumped through the air and swiftly returned to Carter’s palm. “This might be Harmonia’s true voice.”

He then produced a different golden coin, another crown the same size as a Caeli Porta crown, but with a foreign king’s face on it. He flicked it, and it made a soft ting as well, but it was duller, less smooth than the first. It felt like a single grain of sand between one’s toes. “Not all impure coins sound like that one.” Carter pointed at the fake, “but they don’t carry the sound of Harmonia.”

Icarus frowned, flustered. “I can’t hear the difference. Mind letting me keep that? For practice. How much gold does it contain?”

“No problem.” Carter smiled. “I’ll sell it for a single gold crown. Its value isn’t in the gold it contains, but in the gold it will save you.”

“Half a crown?” Icarus asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

“Sure, why not,” Carter replied and tossed it to him. “I’ll even throw in another free lesson: Your guards won’t protect you if the Nomos Enforcers decide to check on you. In fact, their presence might just alert them. Avoiding a fight is much better than trying to win one.”

“It’s the lack of the king’s men that has me worried.” Icarus’s strange statement caught Carter by surprise. “The Border Guard is busy with the Zasthers, and we’re too far away for the Enforcers to care. As long as our current lord gets his gold, he won’t investigate either. Not while he doesn’t know how much more gold we’re hiding.”

“Robbers then?” Carter asked.

“Of a sort,” Icarus answered. “I think a rebellion. Though I never heard of any lord being robbed, just common folk too well-off. I hope you travel light.”

Rebellion or not, robbers usually dress themselves in a cause, to see themselves as just in their actions. Just robbers. But Carter wasn’t as unassuming as this post. Even a blind beggar could recognize Roseen’s value, though not her breed. “My companion might attract some attention,” Carter said. “I am carried by a Belcheer draft.”

Icarus let out a whistle of admiration. “Always wanted a Belcheer, but I’d rather have a mount than a draft. Even with a Belcheer, a dozen horses will do three times the work and cost just as much. But the speed of a mount! Nothing beats it. It’s not about the money either, you can hardly even get them.”

“It wasn’t easy getting Roseen either,” Carter said, “but she’s worth it.”

Icarus gasped. “She? How did you manage to get a mare?”

Carter leaned back, his expression amused. “You have your ways, and I have mine. Let’s just say it involved a rope and a lot of distilled kumis.”

“Forget about extracts,” Icarus said, still impressed. “Did you bring any more steeds? There’s more gold in it than you can imagine.”

“I sold them as soon as I crossed to safety,” Carter replied. “But even if I hadn’t, considering my life on the road, I can’t imagine having a better horse than her — or dropping my current life to be a rancher.”

“If you ever change your mind, our farms will be set just for you in a heartbeat,” Icarus pledged, cradling his drink in disappointment. “You better keep good care of her.”

“Always do.” Carter stood up with a smile. “And if I’m ever back in Belcheer, I’ll try and bring another herd.”

Icarus rose and shook Carter’s hand. Icarus’s handshake was firm. It felt practiced, but it radiated confidence as well. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said. “On my end, I’m sure I’ll have many more hydro barrels for you. New ones.”

Carter was about to leave but hesitated. “How is that?”

Icarus smiled. “A new Magus rose to power in Zasther. Chaos will soon follow.”

Carter settled into his driver’s seat and encouraged Roseen to head off. She neighed and pulled away, leaving behind the sounds of cheers and celebrations. It had been a good day’s work. The sun shone a little brighter as noon was approaching, and the weather turned pleasant.

A rugged-looking man on a strong workhorse, with small rabbit carcasses tied to the saddle and a bow on his back, cantered past in a hurry. Certainly his lord’s horse, and certainly taken without permission. A man such as he could never afford that hunt, let alone a mount. Carter sighed and continued north. A lone poor man wasn’t the danger the king’s men or a gang of thieves were.

The sun climbed high, and the morning chill faded. The warmth of the day, the quiet road, and the little he had drunk, all dulled his senses. He didn’t mind. A long road lay ahead.

An arrow punched his chest and deflected into his shoulder. The jolt snapped him awake, and pain rushed in and out of his mind, leaving only one thought behind. Take cover.

Carter jumped to the back of the wagon. Another arrow whizzed past him, and he screamed in pain — the curtains pushed the arrow deeper into his shoulder. He bit his lower lip to choke back his scream. Tensed, he concentrated, listening for the approaching assailants. A hand peeked through the wagon’s back cover and flung it open, and Carter unleashed a stream of fire as powerful as his pyro glove allowed.

The flames scorched the man’s face. He fell to the ground and shrieked in agony. The same man Carter had seen near the mail post now writhed on the ground, his eyes burned beyond use.

The nauseating smell of burnt flesh only angered Carter further, and he seethed with rage. He wanted to kill the man. He wanted to leave him behind and flee. He wanted to cover his mistake of letting his guard down. He wanted to lie down and rest until the pain went away.

“If you want to live, talk!” he demanded of the man writhing in pain on the ground. “Who are you? Do you have any accomplices?”

“Please, Lord Pyro, forgive me!” the attacker whimpered. ”I had no idea a noble rode here. Spare me, I beg you!”

“I don’t care for your apologies! Answer me! Were you sent after me? Why did you target me?”

“It was nothing of that sort, I swear! Just Orabora’s weave of fate! I heard the postmaster celebrating and thought it an answer to my prayers.” The man was on his knees, begging. “My life isn’t worth your punishment! Please don’t kill me! For me, I’d happily accept Nomos’s judgment and ultimate embrace, but I couldn’t leave my family behind to suffer.”

Filled with disgust, Carter studied the blind man. He hadn’t stopped groveling, oblivious to the world around him. “I must feed my family through the winter. Let me live, not for my sake, but for theirs. They’ve done nothing wrong! I don’t know how much they’d pay for a blind slave. I hope there will remain enough after my lord takes his toll… Lord?”

Carter’s rush of battle faded. His anger didn’t vanish, but was dwarfed by growing frustration and contempt. How could this man be pleading for mercy after just trying to take his life? Carter’s stomach rumbled, and the coins weighed heavy on his purse. The man’s family was not at fault. Nor were they Carter’s responsibility.

He noticed his fist clenched around a silver crown pressed tightly in his palm. He tossed it far away. He often kept a few coins to bribe away robbers or any meddlesome nobles’ men — spreading little of his wealth was the best guarantee to keep the rest of it — along with his life. But this one could go face Nomos’s justice for all he cared.

If Orabora willed it, she’d weave the coin into his fate. The coin rang, hitting the ground, and the confused blind robber turned his head not knowing where it came from.

“Be thankful you still have your life.” Carter choked back a scream as he removed the arrow from his shoulder. One of the gold bars suffered most of the impact, but it was still stuck and painful. “If I were as kind as you, you’d surely be dead.”

He watched the man’s horse wandering away. His family might all have to pay with their lives for that horse. But this wasn’t Carter’s concern. The man had sealed his own fate. Carter crawled back to the driver’s bench and urged Roseen forward. Either Orabora would change the man’s fate, or Nomos would deliver him justice. Either way, it wasn’t Carter’s burden.

When he checked his wound, Carter found nothing vital was struck. It would heal on its own. It wasn’t worth seeing a healer, not because of the cost, but the risk. Healing naturally was safer, with less risk of error, and it would avoid attracting the attention of the Nomos Enforcers.

Roseen pushed on north, and Carter patched the wound as best he could. The road ahead was still long.

The sun beamed overhead, and in the numbness of the road, it was almost possible to forget that just moments ago, he was fighting for his life. He opened his book but the frustration gnawing at him wouldn’t let him focus. He enjoyed traveling, but would have preferred arriving sooner.