Old Green World (14 page)

“Everyone is pretending that we’ve learned all our lessons,” Niall said. “But they’re already planning the next stages in London. They want to go into Viru, into the Southern Lands. They’re desperate without Richard. And they call it something kinder now, but it’s the same project, just with more stupidity. It’s going to be bloodier than this was.”

“You just can’t admit that someone other than you might have a better plan for civilization,” Esther said.

Niall took a long breath, evenly inhaling and exhaling, and watched his rage at Esther travel across his mind. “You’re probably right, Esther,” he said. “I should step away and let progress move forward.”

“Why are you here, really?” Esther asked.

“I told you already,” Niall replied.

They sat silent.

Remember what Richard said about him, the boy?
Esther said.
He said that his energy had a strange and subtle smell. Pronounced and bright, like a potential Adept’s, but with a sourness to it. It was the smell of entropy, the smell of the forest.

I have no idea what you’re talking about
, Niall said, then laughed, aloud, in the physical world.
Richard loved him, I know that.

Does that make him less dangerous?
Esther asked.
Or more?

I’m just here to see our progress
, Niall said.

+ + +

After he left the school, Niall spent some time along the river, watching the fishers catch the big salmon that the river bore. Most of the fishers tried to ignore him, but one approached.

“Holy,” the fisher said in Baixan.

“No,” Niall responded, also in Baixan. “Remember that. We aren’t special. You are as holy.”

The fisher shrugged. “You look Baixan,” he said to Niall.

Niall laughed. “So do you,” he said. And then: “My parents were Baixan.”

“This is all fine, all right? Whatever they like. You tell them that. Do it for your parents,” the fisher said. “No more killing, all right? We’ll live like this if you want. No more killing. You tell them that.”

+ + +

As soon as he could justify it, he went to the tavern. It was crowded with Island soldiers and their Baixan companions. He squeezed between a pretty Baixan rent boy and girl, the two of them apparently best friends, far more interested in one another than the sweaty militia they accompanied.

The barkeep was stone-faced, young, with a color about her, florid and compelling. She pulled back long black hair and wore a plain canvas hat over it. Niall had seen several of the hats in the town: he guessed it was a new fashion. She wore colorful tattoos on her face and neck, which indicated a proud warrior family.
What’s her story?
Niall wondered.
Is she a village leader down on her luck? Or is she adapting, trying to assimilate?
He thought about looking into her mind to find out, but chose to leave it a question.

He erred on the side of politeness, and greeted her with honorific Baixan. “By your mercy, a cup of ale for me.” She filled the glass with a businesslike air, but her response as she set it on the bar—“My mercy is yours”—showed the gesture was appreciated.

He looked around the bar. The seats nearest him had cleared out. Baixans, when given the choice, often cleared out in the presence of Adepts.

Niall took one of the seats, one hand clutching the cup and another scratching his belly.

He fidgeted for a while, spinning around time and again in his chair, surveying the room. After a while, he slowed down and focused on the bartender. He watched her work: broad focus, subtle and balanced attention to the drinks and people and needs that awaited her.

After a while, she finally caught his gaze and locked to it. Not a passing glance, but rather a fixed stare. Niall looked into her eyes, took in all of her, and then managed to communicate approval with just his eyes.

She approached him. “Do you need another drink?” she asked, directly.

He decided to go for it, and downed his ale with a gulp. “Yes.” He grinned.

She smiled curtly and drew another cup for him. He leaned in when she brought it. He knew how to take in subtle scents from years of training, and picked up the smell of her. She smelled of work and smoke and soap and malt and the herbs that Baixans wore to scent themselves.

He thought for a moment that he might introduce himself. But then she was away again. The rhythm of the bar didn’t give him much time to deliberate.

He let it go and took a short meditation. He followed the smells, froth, and flavors of the ale. He sat with the patterns of his breath as he drank.

She came back around after a while. In his reverie he must have looked a bit strange. “You good? All right?”

“I am. What’s your name?” he asked.

She didn’t really warm to the intimacy. “You’re one of the Island priests,” she said.

He beamed at her anyway. He couldn’t help it. “We aren’t holy or different, not really. But yes. I’m an Adept.”

“I don’t know from Adepts. We didn’t have Adepts before,” she said, her voice trailing off at the end.

His smile turned sad and grim. “I’m just a man. Nothing special. Don’t worry about it. Thank you for the ale.” He went back to contemplating his cup.

She paused for a moment, then reached forward and picked his chin up. “My name is Evi.” She looked at his cup. “I think you’re all right for ale.”

“For now,” he said.

She paused for a moment, and stared directly at him. The last time he was here, he’d adjusted to Baixan interaction: its ease, its directness, its lack of boundaries. He realized that he would have to get used to it again.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“I’m Niall.”

She smiled. “You have pretty eyes, Niall.” She returned to the rhythm of her bar.

+ + +

He stayed in his seat. It didn’t feel like long, even though it was hours. She kept her rhythm in the business of the evening and then tapered off when the night drew late. She had a few long and laughing chats with customers at the bar. She talked down a very drunk and very large Baixan. Every warm, precise moment of the conversation made it obvious that she had done this many, many times before. When she showed him the door, the drunk Baixan seemed almost comforted.

After a while, most of the patrons took the door. Finally, it was down to him and a couple of people in the corner. He had put down several more ales by then, and he felt them. He knew techniques to clear his mind, to counteract the effects of the ale. He liked the feeling, though, and wanted to stay with it.
That’s kind of the point
, he thought.

Evi sat with the people in the corner, talking. He took in the dynamic she shared with the other Baixans, their interaction and laughter and familiarity. He kept staring for a bit, realizing the awkwardness of that, and not caring.

Finally, she caught his eye. He smiled at her, and she smiled back. She turned away and went back to her conversation.

Eventually, she showed the couple out. She stood, took up their cups, started walking back to the bar. “We’re closing up now, Niall.”

“You remember my name. I’m flattered,” he smiled.

“Of course I remember. You just told me a couple of hours ago. Shouldn’t you be in bed, or in contemplation or something?”

“I tend to stay out later than most Adepts.” He drew his finger around the lip of his cup.

“Yeah, it seems like you are different from most priests in a lot of ways.” She let the moment drag out. The pewter cups in her hand clinked together. “Like I said, I’m closing. It’s no difference to me if you want to sit around while I clean up.”

“I’d like that.”

She turned to the cabinets on the wall, and drew a bottle from them. She took out two glasses, put them on the bar, pushed one to him. “I make this myself,” she said as she poured. “I gather herbs and berries from the forest.” She filled the glasses halfway with the liquor, then finished them with water from a jug on the bar.

He took a hearty drink of it. It was floral, citric, and not too sweet. He noticed a taste like pine at the end. “It’s lovely,” he said.

“I don’t pull that off the shelf for just anybody. Appreciate it.” She wiped down the bar, the cask, washed the glasses. “Do you want some help?” he asked as she moved to clean the last few tables, and she replied, “No. I prefer it to be done a certain way.”

They talked as she cleaned up. “So, there is the closer island, where the polite ones are from, and the farther islands, where the strange ones are from. Which are you? You’re polite, but you’re also strange.”

“All Adepts spend some time in the farther islands. We train Adepts there. But I grew up on the closer island, the White Island. And you? Where are you from?” he said, half joking.

She grinned. “I’m from here, idiot. Like everyone else, except the Adepts and the soldiers.”

He blushed again. He had never been called an idiot before, and it amused him. “So, you come from the woods.”

“Yes. We lived in the forest, my family. My aunt, she led our tribe. So my family were leaders, but not really. We were the relatives of leaders. My father didn’t work. He thought it was beneath him. But Aunt didn’t give him anything. So we were the poorest, even though my father thought we were special. Everyone in the tribe laughed at us.

“My father grew tired of it, of the mockery and the hunger. One day, he said, ‘We will go now to the Old City.’ And we said, ‘No, it is cursed.’ But he made us. He had the green eyes of a demon. And we came here, and there was no food, and everyone got sick. And then all of you came here and attacked us. And many died. You know this part.

“It was terrible. I wanted to fight you all, fight until I died. But it all ended too soon. We just gave up, all of us. It still saddens me. But now there is plenty of food, and less sickness. So, I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“Your family is still here?”

“Two sisters, they got sick and died before you came here. And then my mother, and my other sisters, they died when you came here.”

“So there’s no one? Your father?”

“I hate my father. I don’t talk about him.”

She clearly meant it. Niall stayed quiet for a moment. “This is your bar?” he said after the pause.

“With someone I know. He built it, and I do all the work. I like it. I stay up late, but I never went to sleep when my family did, anyway. And I like money. Money is great. Thank you, Islands, for money! I can get food, and ale, and wine, and baths, and oil, and clothes . . . all I want. Money, it’s a good idea.”

“So this is better to you? This is better than the forest?”

Evi paused for a second. “I like it. All the people we see, and the money, and the friends. It’s good. But I miss the forest sometimes. Here, it’s always place to place to place, no time to stop and listen to the woods and the birds and the wind. I miss that.” She paused again. “But there’s no money in the forest.”

She put down a glass, reached across the bar, and stroked the hair on his forearm. He watched her fingers on his arm. He put his hand on hers and said, “This might not go the way you prefer tonight.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

He smiled at her in silence.

“What’s wrong? So the Adepts, you don’t have sex?” she asked. “You don’t want it?”

“We do. It becomes surplus to requirements in a lot of ways, but it’s important. I take the opportunity whenever it’s appropriate.”

She slapped him on the arm. “Well, I am appropriate, and I don’t feel like sleeping alone tonight.” She paused for a minute. “What, you want someone else, a boy? What have you been sticking around here for, then?”

“Boys are fine. I don’t seek them out.” He traced a shape on the back of her hand. “I like you very much.”

“Yeah, of course you do. You boys from the Islands. It’s all you want. Maybe you are a little strange about it, you pretty Adept. The rest of you are mad for it, though. You all say there is sex in the Islands, but I don’t believe you. You all act like it’s something new.”

She looked into her glass, empty of liquor, then turned it over. “Done.” She took her hand away from his arm and began rubbing his neck. He smiled again, blushing deeper, and sat a little more stiffly.

“You have beautiful eyes,” she said. “And the way you look at me. You look big and simple like all the Island boys, but when you look at me, I think you see me, and not all the things you want, all the thrill and rest and happiness that boys want. You’re looking at me.”

“You look amazing,” Niall said. “I like thinking about what you want, not what I want.”

She smiled and sat quiet for a moment. Niall looked at his own glass, half full, and passed it over to her. She drank it.

Finally, she said, “Let’s go into my room and you can think about what I want.”

They went into her room.

+ + +

They woke later than he had expected. The sun was high by the time they left the bed. Evi warmed some bread and cooked pheasant eggs. She put the food in front of Niall.

“I’m happy.” She smiled. “Thank you.”

“I’m glad. I’m really glad,” Niall said.

She sat close to him and scratched his back as he ate. “Beautiful boy,” she murmured. “Who makes you feel good?”

“You do,” he said. “You did. I love to see you happy. Thank you.”

She sat for a minute, pensive, then traced a finger across his stubbly hair, just above the ear. “You know what I mean,” she said, her hand on his shoulder. Then she shook herself out of it and said, more formally, “So, you have to go into the woods?”

“I do. I have to go today. I’m already late.”

“When you come back, you come back here, to me. Do you hear me?”

He made a face of mock surprise and laughed. “Without question!”

She smiled back. “Good.” She pushed the rest of her eggs over to him. “You eat these for me. You have to eat so you can be strong for the forest.”

+ + +

He put on some clothes that would work better than robes in the forest: breeches, and boots, and a decently sturdy shirt. He said good-bye to Evi and headed to the edge of town. A couple of farmers were turning soil there. They looked at him as he passed. They waved their arms at him and pointed in the opposite direction, sure he was going the wrong way. He smiled and gave them a thumbs-up.