Hungry Heart - Book 5 - Ch. 16 (Patreon)

Chapter One / Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four / Chapter Five / Chapter Six / Chapter Seven / Chapter Eight / Chapter Nine / Chapter Ten / Chapter Eleven / Chapter Twelve / Chapter Thirteen / Chapter Fourteen / Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen – Punishment

His surroundings became a blur. Claw was fighting the messengers that were trying to get their hands on him. When that one boat pilot had grabbed him and threatened him earlier for his audacity to taint the Aureate Sea, the bearshifter had released such a terrifying roar that Toru had had the illusion that the sky above had split open for a second.

He found himself on his back, staring at the vast blue canvas, no cloud in sight. It was such a beautiful day, and in his young heart, regret bloomed. But regret for what?

“You cannot protect him from himself,” one of the boat riders shouted at Claw.

The bearshifter swept a few of their assailants away with one arm, sending them flying and landing on their backs a few feet away.

“That may be,” Claw growled at them, “but I can sure protect him from you.”

“You don’t understand,” another messenger said in a fretful voice. “If we let him quench his thirst by drinking from our sea, we will be doomed!”

“I don’t know you, and I couldn’t care less. But this young tiger is my lord and master, and he’s the only one I serve.” Claw shifted into his bear and his roar made grains of sand swirl through the air.

For Toru, they weren’t sand. They were droplets of water that could slake his desperate thirst, so he reached out with one hand and caught a few in his palm.

“No,” the boat pilots screamed at him in unison as he plastered his open hand over his mouth.

His eyelids grew heavy and the world around him seemed to fade suddenly, like a snuffed out candle. He couldn’t let Claw face those messengers alone; as wise and strong as he was, it wasn’t in his power to subdue such mystical, strange beings. With sly methods, they could take the strong bear down, and most of all, that was a thought Toru couldn’t bring himself to accept. He was a tiger, a strong tiger, someone who had saved the world once, so why was it was impossible for him to save a friend now?

He forced his eyes open, but when he did, he was no longer on the shore of the Aureate Sea. A look around didn’t help him too much to understand where he was. A desert stretched as far as his eyes could see, but it was like no other place he had ever traveled to in his lifetime. Tones of blue colored the landscape, as if a strange twilight was embracing everything.

Underneath his fingertips, the ground seemed made of sand. He ran his fingers through it and grabbed a handful. It was sand. There was nothing else he could see.

“Young tiger, I see that you need my help.”

Toru turned abruptly left and right, but he saw no one anywhere in the flat surface of the desolate desert.

“Look up, young tiger.”

That voice… was familiar!

Toru snapped his head back and stared up at the dark blue sky on which no stars shone, except one. He squinted, trying to make out a shape, as the small, blinking light grew bigger.

“Demophios,” he whispered, “is that really you?”

A quick thought that maybe he was imagining things and his mind was playing tricks on him passed through his thoughts briefly. He had lost Demophios in The Great Barren, so he couldn’t be here, could he?

“I am here, and the quicker you accept reality, the better it will be for all of us.”

Toru continued to watch the growing light. It was beginning to take shape, and now he could see it more clearly. On the sky above him, the symbol of a snake eating his own tail shone brightly. It wavered as if a permanent wind was blowing, turning it into a flag.

“What is this place?” Toru asked.

“It’s where I’m immortal.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

“Because it is not the question you want to ask.”

Toru searched his mind. “Why did I want to drink sand? I’m not thirsty now.”

Demophios chuckled. “You sensed a call.”

“Were you calling for me?”

“I was only watching. The call is in your heart, Toru.”

“Like always, you make my head hurt,” Toru said with a huff. He pondered over his next words. “When can I have my body back?”

“You do have your body.”

Toru looked down at himself and yelped. “I am myself!” he shouted victoriously. His triumph lasted a short time. For all he knew, he could be dreaming of Demophios speaking weird things and, surely because he wanted it so much, he was back to his own self.

“Young tiger, do you recall my purpose?”

“Something about threading a needle between the worlds?” Toru winced as he waited to see how good of a pupil he had managed to be to the ancient snake.

“Yes. Because of that, I see everything.”

“Do you see the shard fragments here in Coinvale?”

“Yes.”

“I see them, too, but it doesn’t help. This body can only take me this far… I mean, Mako’s body.”

“Is the veil the messengers pulled over your eyes so thick that you can no longer see yourself for who you are?”

“What do you mean? They stole my body!”

“And yet, there you are, as strong as ever.”

“That’s only because I’m imagining you, and you’re telling me things that are meant to make me dizzy.”

“My purpose is not to confuse you, but to make you see everything as clear as day,” Demophios said with a hint of reproach in his old voice.

Toru sighed. “But, like before, you can’t tell me things directly, and I must discover them by myself. I wish old witches and snakes and everyone like that would have a little pity.”

“Pity? For a tiger as strong as you are? Toru, ask me the question you want to hear the answer to the most.”

Demophios wouldn’t ask him such a thing if it wasn’t important. Toru crossed his legs and began thinking. What had intrigued him the most since he had set foot in Coinvale? Certainly, not that the dragon puff pastry was actually made with quail meat and there was no trace of dragon in it.

“Why were the people here capable of touching and dealing with a shard that not even a messenger can hold for too long?”

“You’ve grown wise, young tiger,” Demophios said.

Toru puffed his chest out. “I know. I am very wise now. I’m probably as wise as you.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Demophios replied smoothly. “That is, indeed, the question you must seek an answer to.”

“I see. What’s the answer?”

“That is what you must seek,” Demophios repeated the same words he had said before.

Toru groaned. “You’re not going to tell me the answer. You came into my dream only so that you could annoy me.”

“This isn’t a dream, Toru, and you know it. Now, that you know the question, you must start asking it. Ask those you believe should know the answer.”

“Like these boat riders? I don’t like them.” Toru scrunched up his nose. “I don’t think they like me, either.”

“Who else?” Demophios continued, without providing any confirmation that Toru was on the right path.

“Those people who must have touched the shard.”

“They were mere intermediaries. Who else?”

Toru let out another groan of frustration. “You are so infuriating, old snake. Don’t you remember that I gave you your immortality?”

“Only because you wanted to kill me,” Demophios said serenely.

“It worked,” Toru replied and pursed his lips.

Who else was he supposed to ask about the shard?

***

“One more thing before we enter,” Duril whispered as they stopped before a lavish building that seemed taken from a fairytale. Its large porticos were adorned by blue stones and set in marble while the round domes that appeared to weigh down the whole building, making it look like a layered cake, were covered in bright sheets of gold and silver.

“Tell me quickly, Mr. Duril,” Sogou said.

“Won’t they recognize you? You are, after all, a famous author. They must know you.”

Sogou laughed. “They know of me. But I’ve never made an appearance in front of the council, and they are too busy to bother themselves with getting to know a storyteller. Also, don’t you forget,” he added while touching the wide brim of his hat with a gloved hand, “I am in disguise.”

Duril would have liked to argue a bit more, since he didn’t want the young man to get into any trouble, but it appeared that the time for that was gone. Sogou gestured for him to follow as they began walking up a large path guarded by large rose bushes that took them to another building inside.

This was not the time for him to admire the beauty of the place, but Duril couldn’t help it. Paintings as tall as walls embellished the hallway they were stepping through on the left and right. Their colors were like nothing Duril had ever seen, showing bucolic landscapes, markets teeming with sellers and vendors, even portraits of merchants measuring the weight of gold using complicated devices.

The smooth floor was made out of light pink marble while the ceiling was painted in geometric patterns that formed leaves and flowers.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Sogou whispered. “I have never set foot in here, I mean, never farther than this hallway, so soon enough, everything will look just as new for me as it does for you.”

To say that he was taken aback by Sogou’s words would have been insufficient to describe what he felt upon hearing that bit. Duril opened his mouth to protest and scold the young storyteller about omitting such an important fact, when a man dressed in fashionable clothes with a cut that said a lot about his station approached them with quiet steps.

“What brings you here, travelers?” he asked after nodding politely and offering his greetings.

His hat was even more astonishing in the amount of material that had been used for making its embellishments compared to what Sogou wore on his head, but nonetheless, the man stared with unhidden envy at the guest’s attire. He appeared to be in his forties and had a short, well-cared for beard that he touched with a hand heavy with rings.

“I come bearing important news for the Council,” Sogou announced. “I am Sedar Marquis, and this is a blacksmith I brought with me from Sheparon. Hanso Farad is his name.”

Duril had to admit that he was beyond impressed with Sogou’s ability to come up with fake identities for both of them and to lie to what had to be an important member of the institution they had just entered, all the while keeping the same serene and pleasant expression on his face.

“Sheparon?” The man’s hand halted abruptly, resting against his chest now. “That is highly unusual.”

“As is the news we bring.”

“Please, follow me,” the man said right away.

Duril noticed how their host didn’t offer a name in exchange, but seeing how he and his friends were so new to Coinvale, he couldn’t say whether that was a breach of etiquette or he was trying to read more than he had to in everything happening around him. Also, since Sogou hadn’t commented on it, he had assumed that the quiet that seemed to rule over these hallways was normal for the place where the Council of Merchants resided. A place like this should have been packed and teeming with activity, as many people had to have business with the ones ruling the city, especially in the wake of recent events.

He was forced to take that back. As their host opened two large doors, they found themselves in a large auditorium where dozens of people were waiting on benches arranged in rows with the purpose of accommodating as many guests as possible. The murmur of conversation didn’t stop when they passed by, and no one paid them any attention. They all had bags and crates in their arms and conversed animatedly with the people next to them left and right.

“After me,” the man in the fancy hat told them as Duril lagged a bit behind, caught up as he was with the display before his eyes. “As you’ve come a long way, it wouldn’t do to let you wait. The Council will see you now.”

Sogou must have known to use a different entrance, Duril pondered as he hurried to follow along. The man took them through a winding labyrinth until they reached a door that seemed at odds with the otherwise lavishness of the place. It was cut from a dark wood and had no adornment whatsoever. But Duril could tell that the understated elegance of the simple door indicated that the wealth that hid behind it was of a different nature.

Inside, the room looked much like Duril had imagined, based on his earlier suppositions. Long sturdy desks were placed in rows on opposing walls, book shelves aligned behind them, heavy with tomes.

The men sitting at the desks, around a dozen at a quick count, stopped what they were doing and observed them keenly. Even their clothes, dark and lacking the fanciful affectation that seemed to be the mark of the man who had welcomed them, spoke of the authority they commanded without the need for any outward signs of wealth.

“Greetings, my lordships,” Sogou began and offered a convoluted bow.

Duril wondered briefly whether he was supposed to do the same, but since his supposed profession was that of a simple worker, he doubted that would have been received well by the sharp merchants that stared at them in silence.

“I come to you with news from Sheparon, the place of birth for our beloved Heart of Tradeweaving.”

“We’re listening,” one of the merchants who sat on the left end of the right row of desk encouraged him.

“We’ve discovered an anomaly that causes the bits of the Heart to malfunction,” Sogou continued with confidence. “We must remove them immediately and treat them. We will return them to you as soon as the anomaly is removed.”

“Anomaly? Malfunction?” The words sounded strange the way the merchant said them.

Duril had to admit that they did sound strange. Sogou’s vocabulary was evidently vast, but using words that were not much in use or at all could draw the wrong sort of attention.

“That means that they act strangely,” Sogou went on to explain.

The merchants nodded slowly, as Sogou began a convoluted account of the various ailments the shard fragments were supposed to be suffering from. The audience listened attentively but silently. Duril had to admit that he found the silence oppressive in a strange way. Since no sign of malice or anger or any other reaction that he could detect that would cause him to feel that way was present on the merchants’ faces, he wondered why he couldn’t help feeling that something was afoot. What exactly, he couldn’t name, therefore, he had no idea as to how to act.

Once Sogou ended his exposition, the merchants continued their silence. They didn’t talk between themselves. They just continued to stare.

“Quite the astonishing tale you’ve woven there,” the same merchant from before finally said. “You want us to call off the guardians from enforcing the Rules of Harmony only so that you can hack away at what makes this city’s heart beat.”

That was an odd turn of phrase, Duril thought. Weren’t the shard fragments only a boon for the houses and businesses in Coinvale? Now they were indispensable?

“Yes. A heart can become ill,” Sogou said in the same pleasant voice. Most likely, he didn’t sense the danger Duril felt seeping into the room like a miasma that couldn’t be stopped by doors and windows. “Therefore, it needs to be treated.”

“Removing the bits of the Heart is dangerous,” the merchant continued.

“Which is why I brought this blacksmith from Sheparon with me,” Sogou said, gesturing briefly at Duril by his side.

“We see,” the merchant said, although he had shown no sign of wanting to consult with the rest before using that word. He reached for the quill on his desk and wrote something quickly.

Sogou craned his neck as if it were possible for him to obtain a proper glimpse of the order the merchant was likely writing down. Duril felt a prickling sensation climbing up his spine and then grabbing at the back of his neck like a hand of ice.

“The guardians will see you out,” the merchant said as he rested his quill in its rightful place.

“Guardians?” Sogou asked. “Why would they--”

Duril turned on his heel only to witness four guardians in black armor enter the room. They were unceremonious as they grabbed both he and Sogou.

“Wait, this is a misunderstanding,” Sogou protested.

“No, it is a lie on your part, Misar Sogou,” the merchant said in an even voice.

“That’s not my name. And what’s going on? What’s the meaning of this?”

“Isn’t it obvious? Fraternizing with strangers and aiming at stealing the Heart of Coinvale. These are the names of your crimes, storyteller.”

Duril didn’t offer any opposition when the guardians dragged him away, but Sogou seemed shocked by having been unmasked so quickly. Even more, he couldn’t comprehend what was happening and began to try pulling himself free from the guardians’ hold. He winced as a metal arm swept up to crash into Sogou’s head, making him fall like a heap of clothes to the floor.

If they were throwing them in jail, that meant that they had a chance to find Varg. He was no shapeshifter and couldn’t fight these guardians off on his own. Also, he needed to watch over Sogou, who hopefully wasn’t hurt badly.

“You’ve come to the wrong place, stranger,” the merchant said in an ominous voice. “You will not be stealing our riches where you’re going. Dismissed.”

***

Of all the things Varg had been expecting, this hadn’t been in the cards. He stopped abruptly as they reached a large cave, and stared at the only thing in the room that offered both the answer to his questions so far, as well as a reason for the abnormal existence of the Market of the Damned underneath the city of Coinvale. Right there, before his eyes, stood a pedestal, and above it hovered a shard of a size he hadn’t seen so far.

It was enormous, and whatever light was in the room got sucked into it, vanishing into nothingness.

“What is this?” he asked as he dropped Vetor to the ground.

“The way out. What you wanted from me.”

“That’s a shard,” Varg accused. “And I’m sure you know what I mean by that. It is made out of nothing but evil.”

“Yes, I know what you mean,” Vetor confirmed. “I shouldn’t be here.” He began fretting and rolling around without making a beeline for the exit which was right behind Varg. It was evident that he didn’t dare to try his luck.

Varg shifted into his human and grabbed Vetor with one hand. “You shouldn’t, yet you are. Now, tell me what this thing is doing here.”

“You said you knew what it was,” Vetor protested furiously but to no avail. He was swinging to and fro, hoping to break free from Varg’s hold, but there was no possibility for him to do so.

“What is it doing here?” Varg repeated the question, this time in a menacing voice.

“It… it keeps everything going!” Vetor shouted. “There, you made me say it.”

“Do you mean, the Market of the Damned? This underground prison?”

“More.” Vetor gave up on struggling, as he realized his efforts were in vain. “A lot more,” he whispered.

“The guardians?” Varg asked as his eyes were drawn inexorably by the levitating shard. A pull was coming from it, a call of sorts, and he had to use all his will to keep his feet from walking in its direction of their own accord.

He put Vetor down, but the ball of fur hid behind his leg, trembling like a leaf.

“I showed you,” he squealed. “If you want to leave, you must destroy it. But I want to have nothing to do with it.”

While he was talking, the curator of the Market of the Damned began to slide across the floor toward the pedestal.

“Shapeshifter, help me!” he screamed in terror.

Varg grabbed Vetor again and this time held him gently.

“What’s really going on here?” he asked. “If you don’t tell me everything, I’ll feed you to the shard immediately myself,” he threatened, knowing now that the curator would take his words at face value.

“Don’t, please don’t. That’s a fate worse than death,” Vetor pleaded.

“All you have to do is to tell me how this thing got here, for how long it has stood in its place, and what does it do to the city above.”

Vetor sighed as if all the fight had gone out of him. Varg told himself to be patient even if the pull from the shard was growing stronger.

“Coinvale was once a city like any other,” Vetor said in a morose voice. “Until digging for the city’s new treasury revealed the presence of this.” He didn’t turn to look at the shard, showing how much he feared to face it. “At first, the people thought it was evil, because of how dark it is and how oppressive the air around it feels. They locked it back up where they found it and returned to their lives. But strange things began happening soon after. A few new merchants appeared, bringing with them gifts and amazing things that made people’s work easier. They revealed that they had heard of the discovery, and that it could be a boon to the entire city. Convinced by the lavish gifts, the people brought the merchants here. What happened next is not widely known. But the guardians emerged with the Rules of Harmony already in place. What I tell you now, shapeshifter, is history long forgotten. When they unearthed the Heart of Tradeweaving at Sheparon, this dark heart here called for it.”

“How could anyone forget such a thing? Why didn’t you forget?” Varg questioned the curator. His legs were trembling with effort as the shard continued its relentless pull.

“That’s my punishment,” Vetor said solemnly. “I witnessed everything.”

“How old are you?”

“I lost count of the years a long time ago.”

“Were you one of the merchants?”

“No, I was only the one who kept the ledgers.”

“Why would they punish you? Weren’t you with them?”

“Yes, but I wasn’t supposed to see what they did.”

Realization dawned on Varg. “Were you the first prisoner of this underground jail?”

“Yes,” Vetor admitted. “Punished for my greed.”

“Your greed?”

“A greed to know each thing’s worth. Including it.” 

Varg stared at the dark shard. Knowing its worth was similar to knowing its nature. Vetor couldn’t have known about the dangers such a wish would carry with it.

TBC

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