4. Take Me
We arrived at the village of Brint mid-afternoon. I would have liked to have more time in the market to sell our wares, but beggars we were, so we would get what we got. I doubted more time to haggle would have brought much more coin than we received. I had a bothersome thought at the back of my mind that feared selling what we might need to survive, but I could only hope we were doing what needed to be done now. A strange feeling struck me as I shook my small coin pouch and felt the heft of the metal as it clinked against itself.
To think, our endeavors can be distilled into a handful of metal.
It had been a challenge to keep Gingel safe as we peddled away the last of our possessions. I worried someone would bump her leg and cause more harm. But I couldn”t keep people away from her. She had a way of charming everyone she met. Her pretty face and artless manner drew everyone into her orbit. She remained sitting on the edge of the wagon as the ladies of the village passed by to make small talk with her, the injury concealed under the blanket.
”How is Mrs. Wellen”s new baby? I”m very sorry I won”t be able to visit them before we leave,” she said, effortlessly remembering all the inane details of the common folk”s lives. Always attentive, always polite.
”Oh yes, ”tis a healthy boy, the spit of his da. Goin” tah be a biggin” too.” Gingel smiled and clapped her hands as she spoke with the woman whose name I had already forgotten.
”We will have to come and pay a visit when we return. I do so love babies! With their soft hair and chubby fingers.” She wiggled her willowy fingers as she spoke. My heart twinged at the last words.
All she”s ever wanted is a family.
I listened as she gave vague reasons for our early departure. We”d found long-lost family. We”d stay for the winter and return in the spring. She didn”t want to lie, but I told her not to broadcast our troubles to the locals.
Arit waved at us from down the lane, returning from helping deliver the last of our crockery sold. Gingel”s face lit up as he approached, returning his wave. I turned away, rubbing the back of my neck as I reached to untether Bordus so we could depart. My mood had soured, an uncertainty dampening what little optimism I had been able to garner.
There was now a nagging feeling, the idea that we were being followed by Death, more present in my mind. I knew I had a path to pursue with him, but the urge to ignore him and hope he just went away was strong. A delusional but powerful urge. He wasn”t going to stop. If he was to be believed, he couldn”t stop. I found it hard not to blame him, to reconcile that he was here to take her away, but he wasn”t responsible for her death. He wasn”t.
We made our way to the small Inn on the far southeast side of the village. I told myself this wasn”t an unnecessary spending of coin that we might not be able to afford. The journey to Slivin was long and would take all day. Staying in Brint would give us just enough time to make it there before the light gave way to night, bringing dangers to the road.
The smallest room was all I dared take, with the single bed reserved for Gingel. Arit and I could sleep on the floor. I had certainly slept in worse states. After a good deal of coaxing, Gingel finally ate a decent portion of her supper, and I mixed one drop of paupolet with a proper portion of bier, which settled her down into slumber.
Arit and I left the room, returning to the tavern adjoining the Inn. We sat in silence as we savored a tato stew, one of the last good meals we would probably enjoy for a good while. I could see as we ate that he was thinking a little too much, the gravity of our situation settling into new lines on his face. He was too young to look this old. No, it wasn”t age, it was starvation. He could regain his youthful visage once I had us safely in the south. We would use what coin we had to get us settled and find work in a city.
We can rebuild.
”Hey, finish up and head back to the room. Get some sleep. I am going to stay up a bit and do some thinking,” I said as he finished the last bite of his stew, tilting the bowl up to drain every last drop.
”More thinking? Always thinking, aren”t you?” He gave me a weak smile.
”It never turns off, honestly. This whole situation has me quite worked up.” I look down at my stew, scooping up the last chunk. Arit slid his hand over to grasp mine.
”If anyone can figure out how to get us clear of this, to fix her, it”s you. I believe that.” I barely managed a smile.
”I wish I had your confidence.” I sighed as I finished that last bite, dipping a crust of bread in the savory liquid left behind. His expression darkened as he looked at me.
”Are you well? I didn”t think to ask this morning, but you said some strange things yesterday. You thought there was something in the woods?” He asked.
I opened my mouth to dismiss it as nothing but paused. Should I tell him? Will that help or hurt the goal? I can”t… I shook my head.
”It was nothing. A play of light and shadow. I”m quite well. Now, off you go. Get some sleep.”
He did not need much prodding. I could see he was more than likely physically and mentally exhausted.
Worry will do that.
He got up to leave but turned back to me. ”It would be alright if you weren”t well. You don”t have to shoulder all the burdens all the time, you know.”
I looked up and smiled as convincingly as I could manage. ”I know.”
I finished that last bite of bread as he left, thankful to be full of warm food—a small, welcomed comfort. Half persuaded to change my mind and retire for the evening, I just couldn”t let myself remain idle. I needed answers, even if I feared the one who held them. I wrapped my cloak around me as I pushed back from the table.
Shivering against the evening chill, I wondered what would summon the ”guide,” as he called himself. I wasn”t sure how I was to find Death in the darkness, but I knew he had to be close. Surely, if he was tethered to Gingel by way of the thread, he must need to be within that distance, the length of the thread. I began to walk in sweeping circles, with Gingel held in the center of my radius. My route increased, spiraling out from the tavern in wider and wider arcs.
”Are you looking for me again?” The soft voice stopped my pacing.
He was almost impossible to see in the shadows. I stood rooted in place, still terrified to be speaking to him, but I forced myself to break the silence.
”Yes. I have...more questions.”
He emerged and presented himself. It was hard to tell in the dark, but he seemed...less intimidating. His cheeks were not as hollow as before, his face fuller. I wondered if I remembered his visage incorrectly.
”What would you have of me?” he asked, sounding as if he wanted to answer my questions. But I did not know how or what to ask still. Start with him.
”You said you were a human before you became a guide. How—I mean, if it is not rude to ask—how did you die?”
He remained motionless for longer than I was comfortable enduring. Mournful eyes peered out to me, his face creased in thought. It was as if remembering brought a wash of emotions he was unable to understand. In everything else, he was devoid of expression, but this remembering seemed to affect him. This caught me off guard, regret settling in my breast.
”Forgive me, I shouldn”t have asked.”
Why am I apologizing to the thing that is going to kill my sister? No, that is ungenerous. He is only doing what is required of him.
”I would answer if I could. I can know all that can be known. However, remembering is a different process. I do not recall the details of my own demise. Save to say that I believe it was in service to someone. A woman, I believe.”
He appeared to be concerned that he could not recall his own life. Still, this was an interesting path to tread. Perhaps by pressing this further, I would find more trails to follow.
”Do you even remember your own name? I have been calling you ”Death” in my mind, but if you were human, you would have had a name, yes?” He looked at me and furrowed his brow, this was more emotion than I expected yet again.
”I do not recall that either.”
”Can I give you a name then?” The inappropriate words leaped from my lips. I could feel my cheeks flush and burn. It seemed too intimate a gesture to gift someone with a new name.
”What would you call me?” For just a moment, I believed I saw the twitch of a small smile at one corner of his mouth.
”Well, I do not go by my full name. It is a ridiculous name. Elle is shorter and easier to say. Perhaps I will give you a shorter name, Eth, instead of Death. Would you like that?”
Are you capable of liking something? I am treating him like a person. He had been a person once, hadn”t he? How much human was left in him now?
I did not know why I felt compelled to do this. My mind was telling me that my only reaction to the entity before me should be abject fear. But I feared him less now, and I didn”t know why. That was what I feared. Not knowing why I felt I should treat him like a person.
”I will answer to this name if you wish it.”
I did wish it, but I could not help but think it was dangerous to make him seem more human. I needed to focus on saving Gingel. Still, he was willing to entertain my questions, and I was grateful. I had a request that had been skirting my thoughts.
”Eth,” I said, not completely comfortable with how it sounded, ”you said that the thread summons you, and it must be wound. It is always satisfied. But has anyone...” I was suddenly hesitant to pursue what I was thinking.
Would this even work?
”Will you show me the thread again?” With a flick of his wrist, he produced that beautiful, horrid thing. There was slack, but less than before. He held it taut again, the other end disappearing into the village where Gingel slept. I stared at it, entranced.
Such a simple thing.
”Can I touch it?” He nodded. I ran my hand through it. It was cold. When I held my hand in its light, it vibrated flesh and bone in my palm. It began to tickle in the way that a sleeping limb makes you uncomfortable, the sensations like cousins.
”Will you raise it up?” He obliged, and I dared to step through it, centering the thread through my heart. It was not painful but mildly unsettling. Eth appeared to be concerned.
”If it must be wound, can it be mine instead of hers? Can you give me her thread?” I took a step closer to him. ”Take me.”
Eth released the thread, and it disappeared. He looked away from me. Have I upset him? I waited, not knowing what to do, fearing I had overstepped. He raised his eyes to meet mine.
”Your willingness to sacrifice yourself is praiseworthy. I wonder why you would so readily give your own life away. Do you not value it?” He asked, without answering my question. I was undeterred.
”Please, can you? If the thread must be satisfied, what does it matter whose life it takes?”
”I cannot.”
I turned my face away this time, knowing the answer. He had said as much before, and none had escaped their thread. The answer to his question spun in my brain. I knew why I didn”t value my own life.
I am a dead end with no future.
”I don”t value it, at least not as much as I value her”s. She deserves to live. I am broken.”
Why did I say that?
”Broken?”
”I will not…I mean, women are expected to marry, have children, and make a home for their families. I will not do that so the world does not need me. My greatest value is as her caretaker. Gingel can do all the things I cannot. She doesn”t have the same experiences I”ve had in life. I shielded her from a great many things…to keep her unsullied by the darkness of the world. I”m rather proud of that.”
”This means you are broken?”
I paused. Didn”t it, though?
”Yes...at least it feels as if I am broken, unable to submit to the ”foundation of human existence,” as my tutor once said. I tried once. I was willing to be what I was expected to be. But I can”t, not anymore. My role now is to protect my sister—from you.”
He seemed to flinch at this. I had begun to notice that my actions affected him. Perhaps it was that he was so out of practice conversing, or maybe it was me, but he seemed to be…sensitive.
It must be strange for him, to be so hidden, so solitary that he forgot how to interact with people?
I wanted to see him as something other than a monster. If I wanted to keep talking to him without fear, I needed to see him as human and treat him as one.