"Do you know the exact place the mine caster is?" Merrin knew there was one. As real as the need to impact will into the froststones, there had to be a caster. There existed, in his memory, a vague idea of where the person lived, but accuracy could always be assured if he asked.
Yoid had his smile and said, "I know, but you first have to indulge me in a simple conversation."
"You want to talk?"
"Yes," he said, "Call it a reward for the thing I did."
Merrin felt compelled by Ashmen morals. He had done one for him, surely, he should repay with another. He nodded and found a close stone. Not as high as Yoid's, but enough for the purpose required of it.
He sat down and stared.
Yoid ruled the silence with no words and instead, admitted his eyes with a smile. Then, "Do you want bread?"
Bread? A rare thing in these mines. Money was scarce, more so as the chasm produced fewer minerals to sell. There had been no oredite, iron, eltium. Nothing. Soon, everyone would starve—the witnesses could hunger.
I need to leave soon. Merrin thought this and realized the man before him, a stranger, held many cards on his person. The accurate location and now this…Food.
"Where did you get the food?"
"Well, these are mines. I mined." He said, "Though my method differs."
Did he find a private deposit? Merrin contemplated the word; deposit, with awareness of much new knowledge dawning on him. With each casting, he speculated, he gained new wealth of thought.
Yoid said, "And I find it intriguing that you question my means of food, while I have been feeding you longer in these mines."
Merrin startled. "Feeding me?"
"Unaware?" Yoid snorted a short laugh, "Where would one find spare food to leave lying around? You can't be that naive, right?"
Merrin found himself struck by this realization. It seemed so simple, a thing so easily explained that it bordered on foolishness that he missed it. Where had the food come from? Why did it always appear? The mines were short on food; he knew this, yet it didn't bother him that he always had something to eat.
How stupid was I before becoming a caster? He thought, No, what if I'm still stupid? He locked eyes with the man. "Why did you do that? I didn't even know kzeith before then."
"I like certain people. Some events, like a star, shining bright regardless of the situation that brought them. Regardless of the form they take. I see myself as a recognizer of these events, and so I sought them."
"What?" Merrin could draw little more than curiosity from the word star; everything else rolled out from his mind. "Who are yo—"
"A person," he retorted, "A person that fed you. Anything else is an insult to the will within those actions."
He heaved a breath, an expression of mild anger present on his face. "I understand your fear. An Ashman in the mines isn't a normal thing."
Merin trembled, his mind running through many links to where this knowledge could have possibly come from. He had not danced. He had not told anyone of this. How, then, did he know?
Yoid smiled, his eyes exuding a probing sense. "It's quite easy to grasp, you as an ashman. For one, I noticed, you rarely spoke lies, though sometimes you did, but those were usually in an attempt to save something. You had a linkage to the heat, to the steam. Many times, you stared at the ground, at the burning corpses, steam off their flesh. These things, your hair accompanied by the scent of ash present on you, made the conclusion not hard. Though I still don't know what an Ashman is doing here…Why?"
"I sold myself to slavery," Merrin said. The initial fright stemmed from the mental procession of this man fading by the moment. Apprehension remained, yes, but now, it seemed the man before him was more a creature of curiosity than one of malice.
"Sold yourself? Why?" Yoid asked.
Silence.
"I see." He said, "That's okay. Not many would divulge the ones you have for the sake of customs. Many here break their oaths faster than they make them." he chuckled a bit, then added, "I like you. No. I'm interested. But before I can answer your prior question, I wonder what you think of the slaves here?"
This question…Merrin felt this as an inquisition of his perception. This man, Yoid, wanted to see how he thought.
The truth, then.
Merrin was to speak when suddenly, Yoid interjected, "Sorry, I change my question. I want to know about the ones you brought back from the Sisters."
Merrin frowned.
"Ah, no." Yoid said, "Keep your secrets, I want to know of the means why they are happy. They were to be killed by the sisters."
He knows? Merrin once believed this a kept secret, but that appeared no longer the case. Of course, it could be that this Yoid had uncovered it himself. Dangerous..
Yoid continued, "But you saved them. Somehow. I don't care for that; tell me about their smile."
Merrin stared at this, a warmness flowing through his body. This man—this yoid spoke with hidden sincerity. He cared for them, the slaves. Such words challenged the belief he had previously erected; he thought Yoid an unnerving fellow. He still was, but now, he was human too.
A thing that wanted to learn of emotion wasn't bad, right?
Merrin said, "It's this place. It crushes hope and reduces one into a hollow self. The sisters was…a rebirth. Made anew in near-death. They have courage now. Defiance in the form of happiness and smiles."
"Strength in defiance?" He laughed, "That's good. Here is my take on it. It's a lie. A multi-layered lie that stitches itself into the mind of many. Perhaps you're right, humans have a tenacity to survive, yet there is another form of their determination, it is a lie....Lies are the only form of determination to exist. Lies about hope, lies about strength, these are the lies that humans tell to justify their brave actions."
Merrin searched meaning but found none.
"What I mean is that the people, these slaves you saved, are lying to themselves. Maybe you are, too. They want freedom, right? A funny thing. Nothing is ever free. Even kings are not allowed to be more than they are."
He stood up and tossed the bread, "The Mine caster is in the building between chasms."
As I thought.
"Also," Yoid stopped to say, "Be careful of that bastard down there."
Bastard?
A certainty remains the same as uncertainty—words of the author
Merrin ate the last bread; a necessary thing to do, he realized. Bringing one loaf wasn't enough for the witnesses and, in the end, would sow seeds of malice through hunger. No, he needed food—money. Fortunately, a means for such acquisition had been found.
He moved with measured care, hiding behind high stones, deprecated buildings, and the occasional mindless cohorts. All this ensured safety. Merrin, of course, harbored little truths on his ability to outstrip an excubitor. No, this was time. What he quested was time. Just enough to acquire the needed, then, by nature of inevitability, the Excubitor could trap him.
For now, no.
Merrin crouched to the knee, biting through the sudden hateful heat. He crawled through a narrow line, stones by design queued by the left, works of a wanting cohort no doubt. This turned to be a safer path closest to the headland—the home of the mine caster.
He would go there and rob the man.
Merrin thought sadness was a natural retort to what he wanted to do, but somehow, he didn't. There was no guilt, no pain, just a clear focus. He stopped, watching through a slid between high stones. Two men chatted unnervingly close to the stones. What if they felled it?
In a burst of suddenness, the two dropped to the free sleep. Merrin realized a goodness that existed in these mines. One, there was never a shortage of sleep symbols. Someone somewhere was always dozing. Two, most men existed in cohorts; sooner or later, a member would save them from the heat.
This allowed him freeway to drop them.
He crept on, slotting into a rear wall of a building whose usage he didn't know. Not long, he spat out from the end, crouching against prying eyes. How tense he felt that his heart boomed out in his ears, but he moved on. Cessation appeared a sin, and God knew he had committed enough of that.
Call it luck, fate, providence, whatever, Merrin now, not later than he assumed, stood at the rim of a chasm, overlooking the headland. A small land, between two giant chasms. Like dark holes with paradise at the center.
The building, square, a stark difference from the mines, was black, stone but cleaner. Smooth as obsidian that the lamps scattered through the mines seemed reflective over its semi-queer form.
Merrin saw this and pondered the wealth needed to maintain it. The square structure. What money, yet the slaves lived dreaded lives. However, he soon grew the realization of a certain truth.
They were slaves. What point did it serve in the eyes of the brightCrowns to care for them? A red serv flowed past him.