“Lorit. Don’t eat it,” Onolt said. “You don’t know what it might do to you.”
“It looks perfectly nice.” He looked it over carefully. It looked just like every red apple he’d ever seen.
“Please, Lorit,” she begged.
“Fine, Onolt. I won’t eat it. He looked longingly at the apple before he gave in and sliced it into pieces and threw them into the meadow one at a time. Someday, there would be an apple tree growing there. Lorit wondered if he would be around to see it fully grown.
By the next afternoon, Lorit and Onolt had finished surveying the herd. There were over two dozen kine that were showing with calves that would be born the following spring. They’d lost only three of the herd to wolves and the typical dangers that befell the kine while they roamed the high meadow. Almost all of the calves that had been born early in the spring had survived and contributed to the herd.
In a few weeks, the men would return to the high meadow with the working dogs and drive the kine back down, to winter over in the barns. Today, they had to report to father on the status of the herd.
The house was a typical homestead building with cedar shake shingles and mud sealing the gap between the rough planks. The chimney was made of stones that had been pulled from the fields and cemented together. A light plume of smoke curled up and quickly disappeared into the crisp afternoon breeze.
As they made their way up the path, to the house, the front door burst open. A stout, middle-aged woman appeared. She had the look on her face that meant Lorit was in trouble.
“Hello, Mother,” Lorit said. “We’ve finished counting the herd, and everything looks fine. The herd is growing nicely. We'll have a good winter.”
Shyenn just stood there, looking at him. She didn’t say a word, move a muscle or even blink.
Lorit paused before he got too close to his mother. “Mother, what is wrong?” he asked. “You look as if something were troubling you.”
She slowly tapped the large carving knife in her hand. “There was a priest here this morning,” she said and paused. She continued to stare at Lorit with ‘that look’.
When Lorit failed to respond, she continued. “Know anything about that? He was asking if we had any children around here that he might examine. He said that he’d sensed something from our general direction but couldn’t tell exactly where.”
She continued to tap the knife expectantly. “He headed off towards the next homestead, he said.”
Lorit hung his head avoiding her glance. “I’m sure I don’t know what he wanted. Certainly you don’t think I’m a wizard. Do you?”
“Do I what?” Shyenn asked. She stopped tapping the knife and backed into the house.
“Think I’m a wizard?” Lorit asked. “You don’t actually think that I’m a wizard. Or maybe it was Onolt.”
Lorit and Onolt stepped around her and into the kitchen, closing the door behind them. The scent of roasting meat and onions filled the air making Lorit suddenly hungry. “When is dinner?” he asked, drawing in the delicious smell.
“We’ll eat when your father and brother get home,” Shyenn said. “They went into town, to the market. I needed salt and sugar to put up the berries and vegetables. The garden harvest starts next new moon.”
Onolt stepped around her mother, heading toward the living room. Shyenn caught hold of her arm before she could get past her. “Have a seat young woman,” she said, dragging a chair out from beneath the table with her foot. She guided the young girl toward it. “You too, mister,” she pointed to the other chair with her knife.
Lorit pulled out the chair and sat down reluctantly. It was clear that whatever his mother had on her mind certainly was not over. He’d hoped she would leave it alone, but it looked like he was out of luck.
“I don’t know what the priest was doing here,” Shyenn explained. “Those priests with their fake politeness and slimy propositions always set my stomach off… but they don’t just show up like that unless there’s a reason.”
She put the knife down and heaved herself into a chair. She spread the towel out on the table before her and started folding it slowly. She spoke softly, without looking up from her task. “You two have that look about you that means you’re up to something.” She continued to stare at the towel, as if it were the most delicate of tasks, taking all of her attention.
“What went on while you were up in the hills? I know you two. The priest coming here and you two looking like you have the biggest secret in the world is turning my poor guts to knots.”
She looked up at Lorit. “What happened up there, Lorit?” She put her hands flat on the table and continued to stare directly at him with a look that demanded the truth.
Lorit glanced at Onolt. She looked nervous and frightened. She mouthed the words “tell her.”
Lorit sat forward in the chair and folded his hands in front of him. “I really don’t know, mother.” He paused for a while, but his mother’s unwavering gaze compelled him to continue.
“We were just sitting under the big oak tree up by the creek,” he explained. “I was telling Onolt how much I missed the red apples and couldn’t wait for them to come into season
,
when one appeared right there, out of nowhere.
“I am not sure what happened as it was all a little fuzzy to me at first.” He explained how he’d conjured up the apple and how it had affected him.
Shyenn shook her head. “Just like that,” she said. “You magicked an apple right out of thin air.” She gestured to the air in front of her. “Without even trying. You materialized an apple. Where is it?” she asked, holding out her hand.
“We ate it,” Lorit explained. “Then we tossed the seeds and the core into the meadow.”
“Thank the stars you have a few brains,” she responded.
Shyenn pushed her chair back and stood. “Hand me your pack.”
He un-slung the pack from his shoulder and passed it to her. She opened it and rummaged through its contents. Without looking up, she said, “Go. Run to your brother’s room and get his coat and an extra pair of boots, and bring a few changes of clothes, too.
“You have a serious decision to make, young man,” she said as she turned back to the stove. “What you choose is up to you, but whatever you decide, you must do it now. Before your father gets home.”
Lorit was shocked by her sudden change of attitude. He looked at her as she pulled a small loaf of bread from the bread box and wrapped it in cloth. She rummaged through the cupboard, pulled out a block of hard white cheese, and wrapped that in another cloth. She carefully placed them both into his pack.
“What do you mean, Mother?” he asked.
“You're either going straight to the temple, to present yourself for training, or you’re going to get as far away from them as you can. Either way, you’re going to do it now! Anything else and you're putting yourself and this family in grave danger.”
She turned to look at him with a look he'd never seen before. “You have to get going before your father returns, or you’ll have no choice in the matter. He’ll take you straight to the temple and hand you over. I know you, son. You’d hate the temple, and I don’t want my son turned into one of them,” she almost spat the last word.
Lorit knew Shyenn was no friend of the priests.
“Mother, why do you hate the priests so much?” he asked. “Sure, they’re a little slimy, I know, but you seem to hate them more than most folks.”
Shyenn stopped her packing and turned to him. She had that stern look on her face that said he was just about to get a speech that he genuinely wanted to avoid. As she glared at him, her look softened, and she sat down, heaving a heavy sigh.
“My sister, Lia,” she said, as if that explained everything. “She was not much older than Onolt when it happened. She was so innocent and inquisitive. She was into everything, just like Onolt.” Shyenn pulled at her dress and shifted in her chair. “She ran off one summer afternoon. She went looking for adventure and excitement. She didn’t know what kind of dangers might befall her.”
“What happened to her?” Lorit asked. He’d never heard of an Aunt Lia.
“We found her several days later. She was bruised and cut all over. Her clothes were torn and dirty. She was wandering the streets, mumbling.” Shyenn pushed her chair back.
“She never said a word about what happened to her except she kept whispering something about the priests.” Shyenn looked at Lorit with a tear in her eye. “She wouldn’t eat. She screamed whenever a man came into the room. She died a few weeks later without ever coming out of it.”
She stood, continuing to squeeze various items into Lorit’s pack.
When Onolt came back with his clothes, Shyenn filled a second pack with Lorit’s spare boots and all of his clothes and handed it to Lorit. “Off with you, boy. I know which way you’ll choose. Please be careful, but get as far away from here as you can.”
“What’s going on, Mother?” Onolt asked.
“Your brother has to leave,” she replied. “Now!”
“Please, mother, he didn’t do anything wrong!” Onolt pleaded.
“It’s not what he did that makes this necessary. It’s what he is. There’s no getting around it. I’d rather he ran than be turned into one of those slimy priests.”
“Mother. Please,” Onolt begged. She grasped at Lorit’s arm.
“Please don’t go, Lorit.”
“He has to go,” Shyenn said.
She pulled Lorit to her and hugged him with tears in her eyes. She held him tightly as she had not done since he was a little boy. Just as suddenly, she released him and pushed him sharply toward the door.
“Go now son.” She gently guided him to the door and closed it softly behind him.
Mistbury Tye
Lorit plodded down the path away from his homestead, away from his family, away from Onolt.
The lane was quiet this late in the afternoon. Lorit didn’t see anyone else all the way to Mistbury Tye. He’d only been to the Tye on a few noteworthy occasions, like when he accompanied his father to the specialty shop. Yeraz believed in being self sufficient. He often told Lorit that everything they needed was right there on the homestead. There was no reason to leave it, and nothing but trouble in the towns.
The sun cast a deep red glow over the town as Lorit entered. He had no idea where he was going to find a place to sleep that night. He wandered the streets for a while, taking in the strange sights of the closely packed and carefully ordered buildings. The businesses and shops congregated along the main thoroughfare. He saw none of the rough hewn log structures that made up the homestead, these were crafted from brick and roofed with shake shingles.
Down one street, there were carts arranged in a line extending for almost two blocks. Lorit walked slowly down the street, taking in the sights as the proprietors started closing down their carts for the night. There were carts where food was cooked, steamed or roasted. They filled the air with strange and pleasant smells. Some carts held mounds of vegetables, fruits and nuts. Some held strange spices and a few held even stranger potions.
“You look lost, son,” cried out one old woman. “Where you going?”
Lorit looked at the old woman standing behind her cart piled high with nuts and dried berries. Small vials of colored liquid lined one side of the cart. Each was adorned with ribbons or heavy paper bearing strange writing that Lorit didn’t understand.
She waved to him and called out. “Come on over, sonny. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Lorit made his way through the thinning crowds of late hagglers trying to get the best deal of the day just before closing. The old woman wore a heavy woven scarf around her neck and a homespun wool dress much like his mother’s. She had dark, almost black hair shot through with streaks of gray. Her face was slightly smudged with dirt and one eye seemed a little lower than the other. It gave a lopsided look that marred her otherwise pleasant appearance.
Lorit approached her cart and pretended to be interested in her wares. He picked up a few of the nuts and examined them carefully before putting them back and addressing her. “Yes?” he asked.
“You look lost,” she repeated. “A farm boy like you, out this late in the evening?” She gestured towards the hills. “You should be headed back to the homestead where you belong, not wandering the town like you are.”
“What makes you say that?” Lorit inquired. He moved closer to the cart and stood directly beside the old woman.
“You saying you’re not a farm boy? That be some story.” She laughed at her own wit.
“I’m not saying that.”
“Why you wandering the town by yourself, farm boy?”
“I left the homestead,” Lorit explained. “I want to make something of myself. I don’t think the homestead is the place where I want to spend my life.”
The old woman reached inside the cart and pulled out a lantern. She fumbled inside her heavy shawl and retrieved a match, striking it on the side of the cart. She carefully lit the lantern and held it close to Lorit. She examined him for a moment, before hanging it from one of the posts.
“Where you heading, farm boy?”
“I’m not sure,” Lorit replied. “I only just got here. I haven’t decided where I’ll stay or what I’ll do next.”
She pointed down the street. “Go three blocks down the way, then turn left. Go four blocks, look for an inn with a sign of a boar and quiver. There be a stable behind the inn. Ask for Nenddar, tell him Shandyl send you.”
“Thank you kindly,” Lorit replied. He reached in his pocket, to find a coin for her.
“Keep your coins, youngster,” she said, holding up a hand. “Get off the streets and stay warm. The nights are getting cold. A farm boy like you needs a nice warm place to sleep.”
“You have my gratitude nonetheless,” Lorit replied. He turned and walked down the street as she'd indicated.
The Boar and Quiver was a dilapidated inn surrounded by buildings slightly more run down than those on the main thoroughfare were. The sign was so badly faded that Lorit almost missed it in the gathering gloom. He found the stable behind the inn, just where she’d said it would be. There were eight stalls in the stable; only two of them held horses that had been bedded down for the night.