Servants and Followers (The Legends of Arria, Volume 2) (24 page)

The rottenness inside his body was so
pervasive that he could not even heal himself properly. There was
no way to restore the body, much less preserve it in its current
state, after nearly 3,000 years of existence and decay. It would
continue to decline, and he might fail along with the body, or
become nothing more than a mere shadow himself. To be a mere shadow
was to be insubstantial, prone to weakness, exploitation by others,
and doubt from his Followers and Servants, until he finally did
fall from power. This would not do, after so long spent trying to
control himself and others. He was not about to let go of
power.

Yet what was the point of obtaining and
controlling so much power in the first place if he could not even
use it properly in physical form? No, he had to correct this, he
was not about to let himself go. He would do something, perhaps to
stymie the loss of his body, and sustain it for as long as he could
until he transferred his consciousness onto another host, perhaps
that of the tiger. From what he had gathered or sensed, the tiger
would be the perfect host for his self. The strength, youth, and
vitality of the tiger’s body would sustain him for 26 more
centuries, and allow him to wield his powers in full while
maintaining physical strength.

Memba’s body was bound to have been even
weaker than the tiger’s body at the outset, after all, and look how
long this body had lasted, despite deterioration. Perhaps it would
be possible to obtain the tiger’s body and, instead of killing it,
invade it, purging the tiger’s consciousness of everything that
made him who he was to make way for his own. Of course, Memba had
not even vanished completely from the body that Doomba now
possessed, having passed along some of his feelings and memories of
humanity onto the demon. So there may be some small trace left of
the tiger inside Doomba’s new body, but Doomba could choose to
ignore whatever the tiger had to say, and it might even make such
possession fun, to control and overrule the tiger, to make him feel
helpless for centuries, just like he did.

Doomba had a habit of taking apart whatever
he most despised and making something new out of it, perhaps
hideous and horrible to others, but he gained a sense of pride and
accomplishment from the act, feeling that he had created something
worthwhile, perhaps a living, breathing thing that would go on to
cause great damage. This would be a major accomplishment, one that
could be recorded for all of history to behold, marvel at, and
despise. Although it could be weeks, even months before the tiger
was close enough for Doomba to possess him, and even then, the
tiger was bound to resist, it was a possibility that Doomba was
willing to consider, tempting as it was to make such fiendish use
of the tiger of light’s body, and corrupt his memory. The tiger of
light would hate what he had become.

Whatever occurred, however he might
accomplish the task of preserving his body or obtaining a new one,
next time, he would not waste precious hours and years waiting for
something to happen. He would use his powers, and let the kingdoms
of this world tremble and crumble about him.

There was a knock on the door and Doomba
groaned. “What is it now?” He called out.

A gringrok poked its head in and said, “A
Trolla from the Pits is here to report on yesterday’s escape
attempt.”

“
Escape attempt?” Doomba
gasped when such a thing was unheard of, or at least it had been
for the past few centuries. “Would someone please explain to me
what has gone wrong at the Pits?” He asked.

Iibala held open the front door, and with
Sisila’s and Mirari’s help, carried in her father. “His room is in
the back, by the stairs,” She said as they navigated through the
parlor, careful not to hurt Sir Nickleby too much, and entered his
bedroom. “One moment,” She said, pulling back the quilt and blanket
on his bed before she and the other women transferred him onto it.
“That should do for now, I think, thank you,” She said, glancing
towards the other two women as they moved away from the bed in
silence to the doorway. It was almost like a funeral, how awkward
they all were with their voices and their heads down.

“
I do not know for how long
I shall be in town this time,” Mirari said, glancing towards the
bedroom window. “There are other places I travel to during the
seasons of Reda, Plig, and Suma. But I shall check in on him
whenever I am in town and if you want me to, for a small fee
though.”

Iibala slowly nodded. “I suppose that is all
I can expect.” She sighed. “We can talk about payment, perhaps on a
monthly basis, whenever you do come by next.” Her voice hardened as
she knew it was time to talk business.

“
I will not accept payment
for what I have done up to now, though,” Mirari said slowly,
lowering her voice and head even more as she softened. “That was
out of kindness, and I suppose I had to for his sake. Not like I
would ever leave somebody by the side of the road, especially in
his state.”

“
Thank you,” Iibala said
softly. Mirari was a good woman, even though she sometimes had to
act harsh for whatever reason she had.

Sisila glanced around, and then looked down
at Sir Nickleby. “You certainly did an excellent job, though,” She
said, approaching the bed and examining the wounds from afar. “For
though he might have been attacked by the wolves not that long ago,
it already looks like it has been healed for about a month.”

“
That’s just my skill,”
Mirari said, looking up sharply. “I bandaged and cleaned his wounds
right, making sure they were tightly wrapped, and then I gave him a
potion that would allow him to sleep soundly so that his wounds
would heal themselves.” She defended herself. “He’ll be fine with
further treatment--I can guarantee there will be no
infection.”

Iibala slowly nodded and glanced at Mirari,
wondering why she had been so fiercely defensive. “All right. I
suppose we should let my father rest. Does he need any treatment
now, or will he be fine for awhile yet?”

“
He’ll be fine for awhile
yet.” Mirari said slower. “I’ll come by tomorrow, once I’m settled
in at the inn, if you need me.” She turned away. “He might need
another dose by then.”

“
Yes, thank you, do come by
then, and--” Iibala hesitated before she grabbed Mirari’s arm.
“Don’t say a word about this to anyone.” She told Mirari firmly,
making her own demand. “We do not want people to know what has
happened to my father.”

“
What? Why?” Mirari asked,
glaring at Iibala as Sisila gasped.

“
You do not know what kind
of an effect this will have on people,” Iibala said, glancing over
at Sisila. “You see, he went out with Basha and Oaka, the sons of
the innkeeper Geda, on a quest. And they will fear what has
happened to Basha and Oaka if they find out what has happened to my
father. Please, please do not tell them, at least not yet.” She
begged.

Mirari gaped at them. “Why, you should not
keep a secret like this, or ask me to keep such a secret,” She
wiggled out of Iibala’s grasp, “from the good people here in Coe
Baba, especially from Basha’s and Oaka’s family, who will find out
eventually. I don’t know how you can hide this secret for very
long.”

“
I do not want to worry
them, and they will not find out for awhile,” Iibala said. “I have
a way of avoiding notice. In any case, I can and will face the
consequences when they do come. You do not have to worry about
being blamed.”

“
Please?” Sisila asked
Mirari uncertainly, without really knowing why Iibala had to ask
this of Mirari.

“
Fine, I will do so, but I
will hate every moment of it,” Mirari said, glaring at the two
girls. “I do not know what is going on here, but I will want a full
explanation out of you next time, Iibala,” She said, leaving the
ranch house.

“
Iibala, you are…” Sisila
shook her head and approached the other young woman. “I do not know
if I should thank you or…are you quite sure we should not worry the
others unless absolutely necessary? I do not think we are going
about it the right way.” Sisila said.

“
It is the only way, for
now.” Iibala said, turning to her. “If you are so sure that Oaka is
still alive, then Basha might be alive as well, and thus far my
father has survived…we have to believe what we must believe or else
all hope will be lost for us.” She said, turning to face her
father.

She had to review the facts in her head. She
had to talk to the Old Man. Ever since her father had revealed to
her what little he knew about the Old Man, Basha, the tiger and the
Black Wolf, the tenuous connections that might exist between each,
leading to a whole web of intrigue, not to mention what little she
had seen herself with the crows, and now…she had to question
whether it was true, that Basha might be the tiger. She had to know
before she could speak to Sisila about what she suspected. She
trusted that Sisila would be able to keep this secret, as her
beloved Oaka was involved, and Sisila had to know what was
happening.

Sisila slowly nodded. “Thank you. I shall be
going home now, unless you need me to help you.”

“
I suppose I can manage
with my father on my own,” Iibala said, slowly nodding, “But you
can stay if you like, if you need some company. It can be tough
living on your own, I imagine, especially with Oaka
traveling.”

“
I have company right now
staying at my house.” Sisila said, looking down.

“
What? Who?” Iibala turned
back around to face Sisila.

“
Jawen. She...sort of moved
out of her home soon after accepting Basha’s proposal of marriage.
She could not bear living with her family any longer, after finally
being freed in a sense, and even with Basha gone, she found it
intolerable there with her father and the rest of her family making
her feel uncomfortable. She decided it was best that she leave, and
try to start a new life for herself.”

“
How has that worked out so
far?” Iibala asked, shocked and curious. Jawen and Sisila living
together? Of course they would be together; they had always been
together, even when the three of them were friends. Jawen had
always been closer with Sisila than either one of them had been
close to Iibala, but she had gotten used to it.

“
She has tried to get a job
for herself at a shop.” Sisila shrugged. “Not much luck so
far.”

Iibala shook her head. “Will wonders never
cease?” She muttered to herself, walking over to her father’s
bedside. “Well, good bye, Sisila, and good luck with you and Jawen.
Hopefully she will keep you company.” She said. Perhaps she
shouldn’t begrudge them their friendship, but sometimes it could be
lonely to be the odd one out.

“
Do you suppose Mirari will
keep our secret?” Sisila asked, looking up towards Iibala on her
way out.

“
I believe she might,”
Iibala said, looking down at her father. “Especially if I threaten
to tell her secret to the rest of the townspeople.”

“
What secret is that?”
Sisila asked.

“
Mirari knows and uses
magic to heal people.” Iibala smiled. So many secrets.

“
How do you know that?”
Sisila asked with a gasp.

“
Never mind, just go on
home.” Iibala said. “I have some business to take care of
here.”

As soon as Sisila left, Iibala turned to her
father. “Why did you have to be so stupid? You’re the only one I
have left.” She whispered.

Chapter 9: Night Encounters

The strangest things happen at night, the
most

Puzzling, inexplicable, and sensational
things.

We are left scratching our heads and
wondering,

What has just happened? Where did the
clarity of day go?

--Clarity of Day, Kiwata

“
Habala! Can you go fetch a
cask or two of ale from the back?” Geda shouted at his wife as he
filled up another drink, “We’re about to run out here.”

“
All right,” Habala said,
and left the common room for the storeroom, not returning for
several minutes. It seemed like a long time, and although he wasn’t
really paying attention to what was going on, filling up drinks and
listening to Hermer blather on and on, Geda did wonder what she was
doing back there.

Suddenly, the door to the private quarters
was flung open, and Smidge stormed out of there instead of Habala.
“Smidge, what are you doing here?” Geda asked, surprised by his
younger brother’s presence when he was supposed to be off-duty, and
also by the fact that Smidge’s hair seemed to be slightly singed
and smoking still.

“
I’m coming to tell you
that I quit, I’ve had enough of this rat-infested flea hole, and
I’m getting out of here.” Smidge muttered to his older brother as
he patted his hair to make sure that the fire was out. Meanwhile,
people started scouring the floor, wondering if he was
serious.

“
There aren’t any rats, The
Smiling Stallion inn is the cleanest place in town.” Geda loudly
said to reassure his customers. “Quitting? Are you sure? What’s the
matter?” Geda asked Smidge in a low voice, even more surprised than
ever before when Smidge had always done part-time work here, when
he wasn’t involved with the town militia.

It didn’t make much sense for him to quit
right now, after all these years of labor and the effort he had put
into helping take care of The Smiling Stallion inn, not to mention
the fact that he was going to inherit the inn after Geda died, with
the boys gone. However, Geda’s heart started pounding, with hope or
dread he didn’t know, at the prospect of Smidge’s departure. It
would be a blessing to put his mind at rest about Smidge and Habala
being involved with each other if Smidge wasn’t here on a regular
basis, although it seemed ominous that this should be happening
right now. He wondered if Habala and Smidge had been meeting in the
private quarters while Habala went into the storeroom, and where
was she now?