The Old and the Young
As he staggered along the road, he felt very conspicuous. Every eye in the lane was set menacingly upon him it seemed. He wished that he were invisible. He wished that he were anywhere else but here alone in Tanejul. Dedication, on the other hand, acted completely at home along the street. He sauntered casually, swinging his rump to and fro with the nonchalance of a patriarch within his den. Nothing disturbed him. Chiapos found himself wishing that some of the buffalo's confidence would wear off on him.
The first group of people that he came upon was standing about the front of a building that looked like it was ready to give up its existence in the realm of structures. It was dilapidated, its old beams that held up a canopy were withered and bent and appeared ready to snap from the weight of the tarred roof that it had to bear. There were five people gathered there, all of them not much older than he was. Back in Rainwater, he would not have felt intimidated by the presence of five people his own age. He would have engaged them in friendly banter and learned of what excited them. But here, in Tanejul, these teenagers and young adults were strangers and took on airs of barely leashed aggression. Or so it seemed to Chiapos.
He remembered what Chyna said about minimizing his interaction with anybody, so he kept his eyes forward and his head slightly lowered and he walked by them quietly and unassumingly. He could hear his heart pound in his chest and he was sure that the gang of youths could hear it too. It seemed an eon to get by them, but he did and without incident. Somehow or other they had not noticed him and he could feel his face break out in a smile over the relief.
He passed a dozen other Tanejulians who were loitering on the street without anyone of them even acknowledging his presence. He could feel his confidence build and the innate shyness within him start to dwindle. Chyna had said that people would not notice him as long as he did not do anything to draw attention to himself. It appeared that she was right.
Dedication moved steadily forward along the street, not pausing or hesitating for anything. It seemed the animal knew where he was going and Chiapos could only wish that his destination and the buffalo's were aligned. He turned and looked back over the stretch that he had crossed since parting with Chyna. He was surprised how far he had gone already. The end of this street was hazy and tiny with perspective. Remembering how absolutely huge Tanejul looked from the mountain, he started to realize that once you begin traversing it, that grand scale quickly lessens into easily digested portions. He should be reaching the river Gibbins in no time. Even now, he started to wonder how he would cross it to get to the Montoo district of town. The winter was too early in its season to have frozen over the river. Were there boats? Was there a bridge?
"Excuse me! Is that a Comptode Buffalo?" the words were sharp and crackling and they were practically directly in his ear.
Chiapos looked up and saw an elderly man whose eyes were filmed over from incipient glaucoma. He was obviously blind. The rest of the man's head was covered in a floppy yellow hat made of a fabric that Chiapos had never seen before. "Pardon me?" Chiapos asked using a Tanejulian accent even though Chyna had warned him not to do so.
"I said is that a Comptode Buffalo that you are walking?" The old man seemed grumpy and irritated at having to repeat himself. He shook something in his hand and Chiapos looked down and at first felt dizzy. It was the Redeemer, he thought, but then he saw that it was nothing but an ordinary cane that the blind man needed for moving about.
"I'm not sure," he said. "I have only recently acquired him." Chiapos was at a loss to what to say. He had heard of Comptode Buffaloes before but he had no idea what they looked like and what kind of buffalo Dedication was.
"It sounds like a Comptode from the clop clop of his walk!" the blind man said. "I am very fond of buffaloes especially Comptodes. I used to raise them on my ranch just north of the Montoo. Do you mind if I pet your animal? I will be able to tell for certain then."
"No, go ahead!" Chiapos had no problem with the blind man inspecting the buffalo. Dedication, on the other hand, seemed agitated and had a problem with it. This struck Chiapos as odd, the buffalo usually was very gregarious. At once, he grew suspicious of the old man's intent but he did nothing to intervene.
The blind man ran his long, narrow fingers along the coarse hairs of Dedication's hump. "This animal is finely bred," he commented. "It is not your typical working pack animal. It comes from a line of kings. It is a Comptode I have no doubt and I'm sure that he would be worth a wizard's ransom on the market. Tell me, how did you come by such a buffalo?"
Chiapos was thrown on the spot. Chyna had not prepared him for any inquisitive blind man. "I bought him," he said. "I bought him at the auction." He had heard from the Challengelore that Tanejulians often engaged themselves in huge bartering events known as auctions.
"And what price did you pay for such a fine beast, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I'm sorry that information is confidential. My father always taught me to never tell anybody how much I pay for anything." It was a line that flowed out of him naturally thanks to the Challengelore where one Rainwater Challenger had learned the hard way to keep a price secret.
The blind man snickered. "That's sound advice. Did your father not also tell you that you should never lie to a blind man because they can hear through the falseness of your voice?"
Chiapos took a step back. He felt his stomach sink.
"You are not from around here, are you my Laddy?"
Chiapos's immediate instinct was to bolt away. The blind man wouldn't be able to see him and he could scoot off to safety further down the road. That's what Chyna would have told him to do. But for some reason, he was able to overcome this reaction and remained put. Perhaps it was because the blind man seemed to know about the Montoo district. Whatever the reason, he did not flee.
"I take your reluctance to answer as an affirmative," the blind man said. "You don't have the smell of a local. The foul air hasn't sunk into your skin and become a part of you. Your breath doesn't have garlic upon it like the breath of everybody else in town. In fact your breath doesn't have any food aroma to it whatsoever. Are you fasting, my boy?"
It was amazing how this man was able to deduce so much from the smells of the body. "You could say that," Chiapos replied, not bothering to try to feign any accent. The blind man's remaining senses were obviously too heightened to be duped by any amateurish ploy.
"Mmmm," the blind man hummed, stroking the long grey whiskers of his beard that fell past his chest. "It's been years since I've heard anyone speak in that peculiar fashion but it is a tongue that I had come across in my sighted youth and one that I would never forget even though I believed that I would never hear it again. You are from Riverwater, no, no, not Riverwater, Rainwater. You are one of those young adventurers trekking across the land as a rite of adulthood, aren't you?"
There was no point lying to him and Chiapos was starting to feel an affinity towards the old man. Chyna would have killed him for what he was about to do but he cleared his throat and said, "I am Chiapos of Rainwater. I am on my Challenge."
The old man laughed with glee. His chortle was squeaky and wheezy but it was also genuine and Chiapos felt that he could completely let down his guard. "The Challenge! That was what he had called it!"
"Who had called it?"
"Thedden of Rainwater. He was on his Challenge when I was just a lad of fifteen. He was twenty when I met him here in town and he told me of his astounding adventure across that big forest to the west of here, the Tester. I was absolutely enthralled in those early days by his tales and I had promised myself that one day I, Sjorud of the Montoo, would set out on such a magnificent journey. Sadly, my day to day responsibilities took my youth away and now I am old and blind and I will never have the opportunity to live such an adventure." Sjorud did not appear emotional but he did have a sense of regret in his tone.
"You met Thedden!" Chiapos cried. "Thedden was one of the last Rainwatermen to embark on a true Challenge. That was eighty years ago! His account of Tanejul in the Challengelore is the basis of how I pictured this town to be as I grew up. Somehow it seemed more charming and quaint the way Thedden described it than what I see of it today."
"Ahhh, it was a different town back then," Sjorud said with some remorse. "People were friendlier, the air and water were cleaner. There was always plenty to eat. It was a time before money and greed shaped the way men and women treated each other."
"That's the way Thedden described Tanejul," Chiapos said. "I have to admit that I was somewhat disappointed in what the town is really like."
"Disappointed? You should be outraged!" Sjorud snapped. "This was a good town but its soul has gone black and I don't know if it can ever recover. Sometimes I'm glad that my sight has left me for I don't believe that I could bear to see what has become of my fair city. Now, I live with only my memories and I think myself fortunate for the sights I see in my mind are of another time, a more innocent time, a more humane time."
"I have heard that things are not going so well over here," Chiapos said. "I was told that the people have become hostile and that it is not safe for a stranger to come into town."
"Your source has not kept the truth from you," Sjorud sighed. "Tanejul has become rife with crimes of violence. Gangs roam the streets just looking for ways to pick fights. Most of the decent folk stay inside and have given up trying to uphold peace and justice. See what these bullies have done to me!" He lifted his robe and exposed badly battered and bruised legs. "They beat me with their sticks a few weeks ago for nothing more than a lark. I couldn't walk for a fortnight because some young lads decided that the most interesting thing to do for a moment was to beat up an old, blind man. I tell you had these been the olden days nothing like that would have happened. It would have been unthinkable. Blind men in their later years were venerated like sages and everybody came to them for the chance to have some wisdom imparted upon them. Nowadays, I'm nothing but a whipping dog for the youth to vent out their frustrations upon."
"You must be a brave man coming back out onto the streets after what had happened to you," Chiapos said. He was aghast at the torn flesh and bent condition of Sjorud's legs. It was appalling to think that young people would do such a thing to an old man. Such a senseless action would never happen in Rainwater.
Sjorud scowled. "I had to! I've got to eat! I can't sit around and slowly starve to death!"
"What do you do in order to get your food?"
The blind man laughed. "I beg for it! But I see that I'm wasting my time trying to get some scraps of food from you. I took you for a rich man seeing that you have a Comptode Buffalo. But you're an alien here. You've got no food! And you must be starving yourself because there is not even a hint of food upon your breath."
"No, that's where you are wrong Sjorud. I'm not hungry at all." Chiapos was still reeling that an old man would have to be in such desperate straits in a place of plenty. He could smell food cooking from a host of kitchens in the immediate vicinity they found themselves in. If this had been Rainwater, Sjorud would have been the guest of honour at each kitchen.
"How did you come by a Comptode Buffalo anyway?" Sjorud asked. "It seems to me that Thedden never had any possessions outside of what little he could tote on his person. Whatever became of Thedden anyway?"
"Which question do you want me to answer?"
"Tell me about Thedden. He was a hero to me in my youth. Now, that I'm an old man I would like to have his story completed. Does he still live?"
"I will tell you about him only if you promise to give me directions to the Montoo District. I have business there." When Sjorud nodded, Chiapos went on to tell him how Thedden had travelled to the eastern seaboard of Mallog’mor’ach and worked his way northward and then eastward until he reached the May Shores with relatively no significant incidents occurring. It was on the trail back to Rainwater where Thedden was attacked by a huge panther that tore half his buttocks away before he was able to kill the cat with a small hunting knife that he carried. Sjorud recalled the knife and commented that that knife could hardly slice open a pear, how was it able to slay a powerful foe such as a panther?
"That's the way that it is told in the Challengelore," Chiapos replied.
"Then, I would say that your Challengelore might not be an accurate portrayal of the truth. It is impossible that Thedden's knife could inflict any wound upon a big cat such as a panther," Sjorud said with an air of dismissive disdain. "The blade was only two inches long and I would say that a newborn baby's fingernails were sharper. A panther could swallow that knife whole and not even scratch its throat."
It was the first time that Chiapos had ever come across anybody challenging what was said in the Challengelore. It had never even occurred to him that there might be flaws in the great tales. But he had a rebuttal to Sjorud's remarks. "I knew Thedden myself when he was an old man. I have heard him recite the stories of his Challenge dozens of times and each time when he ends his tales, he will always display the wound on his behind. He had only one cheek. The other was a mangled mess. Only a panther could have been capable of creating such an unsightly and ghastly scar."
Sjorud smiled. "Just one buttock, eh? Old Thedden must have grown pretty loose at the bowels by that. He always said that nothing could scare the shit out of him. I guess everything scares the shit out of him now." He laughed hard and noisily.
Chiapos did not find this to be a laughing matter. Thedden had always been a personal hero to him. He was one of the few people he had ever met that actually had gone on the Challenge. He was his inspiration. The sight of that gnarly, twisted buttock had told him that these adventures were actually real and not just stories made to amuse the children of the village. "I thought that you said that Thedden was someone you looked up to? You mock him and his memory!" He was righteously angered. He had found very little respect for his people outside of the village.
"Oh, I don't laugh at him," Sjorud said, still chuckling to himself. "I laugh with him. He would have found my remark funny."
"But you call him a liar. You said that he did not encounter the panther!"
"No, I did not say such a thing. I said that he could not have possibly killed the creature with the knife that he carried. I did not say that he did not meet the panther nor be mauled by it. The single buttock attests to that! You must learn, young fellow, to filter out the whimsical and folly from the hard facts, that's all. Thedden likely killed the panther but it was not with that knife. All that the knife does is add a magical touch to his tale. You must get yourself a sense of humour as well, Laddy. If you are setting out on this adventure of a lifetime you are going to have to learn how to laugh along the way or else you will only remember this time as a dark, morbid period in your life."
Chiapos remained silent for a moment as he considered the last thing that Sjorud had said. All the tales in the Challengelore were basically fun in spirit and as he thought of what he had been through on his own Challenge, there were some light moments but for the most part it had been drudgery, disappointment, and miniscule expectations.
The blind man seemed to pick up on his thoughts. "I would suspect that the history that you learned through your folklore was mostly set in happier times than what you have personally come across. And you must have learned that it is more difficult to carry a brave, cheerful face nowadays but believe me, nothing could ever be so bleak as to permanently eradicate the ability to smile. Now, make me smile some more as you try to finagle a story about how you came to own a Comptode Buffalo."
Chiapos felt his spirit lift a bit as he tried to put into action what Sjorud had said. "You are expecting some long story from me that would be so full of holes that even a Rainwaterman could see through, eh?"
Sjorud giggled in his breathy manner. "I don't think a Rainwaterman could ever not be fooled by a story, but go ahead and tell me yours."
Chiapos was about to start his story when he noticed that they had drawn an audience. Five youths, all of them much younger than he, had made a semi-circle around them. How long they were there, he did not know. How much they had heard, he couldn't guess. But he felt himself go into a state of alarm. The youths were all large and none had anything remotely near a pleasant expression upon their miens. Three of them held stones in their hands, one nervously throwing it back and forth from palm to palm. It was not hard to extrapolate what their intention was. Were these the same youths that had attacked the blind man before?
"I've got all day, Laddy," Sjorud said. "Take as much time as you want. I will still see through it." It appeared that he was not aware of their company.
On the other hand, Dedication was very keen on what was transpiring. The buffalo had been waiting patiently a few feet away outside of the street gang's circle. It now was wandering back towards him, nudging one of the youths away with his big head. "Hey!" the startled gangster cried, smashing his elbow into Dedication's eye.
The buffalo snorted but did not retaliate. Somehow he knew that his place was by Chiapos's side.
"What's going on?" Sjorud exclaimed.
"Oldtimer, you are begging on our turf again!" the youth with the fidgety stone proclaimed. Chiapos noticed that he had a ring through his nose.
"Qualvo? Is that you?" Sjorud asked, walking in the direction of the gang's spokesman.
"You know that it is me Sjorud!" Qualvo said. He made an almost imperceptible movement with his head. Immediately the rest of the gang closed in their circle.
Chiapos found himself wishing that he had the Redeemer. That Wood of Faerie would quickly defuse the situation.
"You owe Qualvo some money!" another of the gang members said.
Somehow Sjorud did not seem to be threatened. "Ah, you brought the other bullies along with you, eh Qualvo? I always told your father that it seemed that you had no backbone of your own, that you can't fight your own fight."
"Quiet, old man!" one of the gang members shouted and took a teasing poke at Sjorud's head with his fist. Chiapos stepped forward to intervene but was immediately grabbed from behind by Qualvo who held his arms in a tight, almost painful hold.
"What have we here?" Qualvo said. "This fellow does not seem to have been born in our fair, little town. Are you harbouring a fugitive Sjorud? The Hand's Fist might be interested in this one."
Chiapos squirmed to break free from the hold but Qualvo was bigger and stronger than he was.
"Hold still, worm!" Qualvo growled. "Or I will twist your arms from your body and feed them to the rats." To Sjorud, he said, "The Hand's Fist will pay us handsomely for this one. Were you planning to turn him in yourself for the reward, blind man?"
"I wouldn't go to the Hand's Fist if I captured every fugitive in all of Eastern Mallog’mor’ach for a reward. It is they that are the enemies of our town, not the travelers who pass through. Leave the lad alone or I will have to..."
"What could you threaten us with?" laughed one of the youths. "You are old and you are blind. A dead man is more of a danger to us than you!" He spat on Sjorud to add emphasis to his insult.
In retaliation, Sjorud sprung at his attacker and grabbed him by the neck. There was a lot of fire in the oldtimer but his flames could no longer singe. The youth broke free from the hold and immediately pushed Sjorud to the ground.
This was the act that provoked Dedication. The buffalo went berserk and charged with his head down full into the youth sending him sailing a dozen feet into the air before he crashed against the stone wall of a house. Dedication turned on his hooves swiftly and went on a tear towards the other gang members who threw their stones futilely at the mad beast before running for their lives to safety within the nearby homes.
Bereft of his allies and having to face a crazed buffalo, Qualvo let go of Chiapos and began running himself but before he could get too far, Chiapos tripped him up and the leader of the gang was sprawled on the road directly in front of the charging animal.
He would have been trampled to death had not Chiapos cried, "Dedication, no!" The buffalo veered to the left, his sharp hooves narrowly missing Qualvo's exposed rib cage. The beast came to a halt and was suddenly transformed into a serene, quiet pack animal once again as if nothing had happened.
His face white and terrified, the gang leader got to his feet and started to slowly walk away. Before he could get too far, Chiapos grabbed him by the sleeve. "You are not going any place, my friend. You owe Sjorud an apology."
Qualvo scowled at him and shook his arm free.
"He doesn't owe me an apology, Laddy," Sjorud said, surprising Chiapos. "I know Qualvo's father well and it is the old man that owes me retribution, not the boy."
"I'm afraid I don't understand," Chiapos said. "Wasn't this Qualvo the one who beat you up earlier and damned near did again?"
Sjorud cleared his throat. "Qualvo wouldn't be the spoiled little brat that he is had his father taken a more active interest in him."
"My Da is still going to see to it that you will be forever banished from the town, you thieving old timer!" Qualvo growled and made a gesture that Chiapos had heard about in the Challengelore. It was described there as something obscene and only used when one has the greatest animosity for the other. The gangleader walked away in a huff and disappeared in the crowd that had gathered around.
Sjorud
"He called you a thief!" Chiapos cried. "And you let him get away?"
There was a small smile on Sjorud's face. "I let him get away because in a way he told the truth." The old man stepped closer to the Rainwaterman and spoke in a softer tone as to not let the onlookers hear. "You see I used to be in the employ of Qualvo's father, Grooding. He runs the finest livery in the Montoo District and he is one of the premier breeders of Comptode Buffaloes in all of Mallog’mor’ach."
Chiapos felt his eyebrows lift at this information and right away started to wonder if Dedication came from this livery and whether the highwayman, Samarin, was somehow connected to Grooding.
"For years I was responsible for feeding the calves that were sequestered away from their mothers at birth. You see a Comptode Buffalo is especially bred and trained to imprint itself on humans rather than other buffaloes. This method of training takes advantage of the beast's herding instinct. It replaces the animal's need to associate with other buffaloes with the need to be with men and women."
At once, Chiapos thought of Dedication's gregarious, even heroic behaviour. No bovine he had ever encountered before would consider intervening in the travails of the human race. Dedication already had come to his rescue twice in the short time he had grown acquainted with the animal.
Sjorud continued. "I raised hundreds of calves for Grooding over the years and some of these turned out to be among the finest of buffaloes in all of Tanejul. But Grooding would never show his appreciation to me. He was only interested in turning profit even at the expense of estranging his only son, Qualvo, who still revered the man even though he played such a small part in his father's life. As time progressed, I grew more and more resentful that I was doing a thankless job for a miserly man that cared nothing of my well being. Eventually, this resentment led me to sabotage some of these calves. I ensured that these young buffalo were not exclusively in the company of human beings. I gave them exposure to other buffalo and allowed the natural herding instinct to take its course. Eventually, Grooding's clientele took notice of the inferior quality of his Comptodes and sales dropped off sharply. This is where the accusation of my thievery comes into place. Grooding claimed that I was robbing him blind," Sjorud chuckled, "that I had stolen his profits by my tampering with the young buffaloes' training. They showed no inclination to even associate with their owners, let alone behave as their guardians and protectors. Grooding discharged me of my duties and banished me from his properties and he has ever since sought means to get me exiled from Tanejul. His son, Qualvo, has taken up his father's quest for retribution, perhaps to gain esteem in Grooding's eyes. Qualvo will now go to his father and tell him that I am keeping the company of a stranger who is in the possession of a Comptode. You can rest assured that Grooding will be sending the Hand's Fist to come after us."
Chiapos cast his eyes to the ground. Everything that Chyna had warned him to be wary about he has let happen. He had lost his camouflage, he could no longer travel incognito. How was he to get around Tanejul in search of Samarin and the Redeemer? He quietly croaked his disappointment but Sjorud had sharp ears.
"I heard that!" he said. "I haven't heard it put that way since your predecessor was here eight decades ago." There was a jovial lilt to the blind man's voice.
"How can you be laughing?" Chiapos exclaimed. "You have ruined everything for me!"
"I saw through you and I have no eyes!" Sjorud guffawed. "You are not fooling anybody, Laddy." His tone then turned more serious if not ominous. "As long as you wander these streets you are like a spawning salmon in the company of bears. If I were you I would get on with your adventure and leave Tanejul behind."
Chiapos looked about. The onlookers had dispersed. Either they had lost interest in the little melee on the street or they did not want to be caught in the vicinity when the Hand’s Fist arrives. Speaking very softly, just in case there were spying ears about, he said, "I wish I can leave this awful city too and continue with my Challenge but some very disturbing events have taken place which I'm afraid will detain me in this forsaken town longer than I want." He did not say any more because he was not certain whether Sjorud was trustworthy or not.
"The only business that you should have here is the business of leaving," Sjorud warned. "The people of this town don't have the sense of humour that I have. They will run you up a pole if they get a hold of you. I'm telling you this because I like you and I don't want to see you come to harm."
"Believe me, I wish I could!" Chiapos reiterated.
At that moment, Dedication lowed. Even the buffalo sensed that dallying about was a very dangerous thing to do.
"Your Comptode is trying to tell you something, Laddy. You shouldn't be standing here any longer. You must start moving about and keep yourself as hidden as possible. Where are you planning to go?"
"I'm not sure. I believe my goal is somewhere in the Montoo District," Chiapos said. He started walking in the direction that he had been following earlier, the direction that he believed would lead him to the Gibbins River. Dedication lumbered behind him.
Sjorud started to follow also but upon hearing Chiapos' plans, he shook his head. "You want to go into the Montoo with a Comptode? No, you don't, Laddy. Going into the Montoo with a Comptode is like walking into a den of thieves with your entire body adorned with precious jewelry. You don't want to be doing that. Every Comptode comes from the Montoo and each one of them is recognizable to its breeder. I would say by the sound and pace of your buffalo, that it comes from the Samarin Livery. Very nasty people, they make Grooding seem like a, well, seem like a Rainwaterman."
"Did you say Samarin?" Chiapos cried in disbelief. "That is precisely who I am looking for!" During his travels with the master highwayman nothing had been said about Samarin being in the business of raising buffaloes.
"You do want to die young, eh?" Sjorud sighed. "Do you know what kind of man Samarin is? His true trade is not animal husbandry. He is a criminal of the worst murderous kind. He only came by his buffalo livery through sheer gall and chicanery. He was wise enough to keep the trainers on his ranch so that the animals would be reared properly. In a sense, he has gone legitimate but only to finance his criminal schemes. You don't want to be searching him out Laddy. Forget your business with him and get out of town as fast as you can."
"Look it, blind man!" Chiapos cried out of exasperation. "I travelled hundreds of miles on my own and have met dangers far worse than what this present one offers and I have survived. I don't need you to tag along with me. I don't need you to worry about me."
Once again, the old man surprised him with a laugh. "I think that I have no choice but to worry about you if you think that you are going into the Montoo. It is not down this road that you go. It is that road that we have just passed. You must turn to the left back there. This street that we are on right now leads us directly into the stronghold of the Hand's Fist. You give me plenty of cause to worry and plenty of reason to tag along with you until you get to where you are going."
Inside that was precisely what Chiapos hoped to hear. He did feel a powerful loneliness in this town even though it had more people than he had ever seen before in his life. Sjorud's offer of help seemed to be the only good tidings that he has had since parting with Chyna. He wondered how she was making out, had she met up with Everan and Straye as of yet? It was time for him to deputize himself a new friend and Sjorud seemed to be the perfect choice. The blind man was knowledgeable of the city and he had a soft spot in his heart for Rainwatermen. "Well, then you need not worry about me any longer for I put myself in your care.” He paused a moment and then added, “But I assure you that it is vital for me to finish my business in this town. I cannot leave with it undone."
"How is that so?" Sjorud asked, cane in hand and stumbling along beside him.
It was at this moment, that Chiapos took that final step to take the blind man into his complete confidence. He told him the more salient points of his adventure thus far, in particular about the Aura in Ascension, his encounter with Cenan, Appointed Servant to the Mammoth, his discovery of the Redeemer and its subsequent heist by the brigand, Samarin. He did not mention much about Chyna. He wanted to keep her as safe as possible lest the Hand's Fist would catch them and torture the information out of the old man.
They strolled as Chiapos explained his adventure. He kept a wary eye out on any of the dozens of people they passed. None seemed to take any interest in him and the old man. This was reassuring but it did not do anything to lessen his caution. They had turned down the road that Sjorud had mentioned. It was a nondescript intersection, it was one that was easy to walk past and it set Chiapos to marveling at the keen senses the blind man possessed. The street itself was narrower than any of the thoroughfares that he had travelled thus far. The houses and buildings seemed to be piled up right onto the road. Dedication almost appeared to be an unwieldy monster in these narrow confines. The buffalo at some points took up more than half the width of the lane. There were fewer people on this street but those that were there did keep a watchful eye on them and it made Chiapos speak in not much more than a whisper to avoid being overheard.
When Chiapos had finished his tale, he was surprised at how much time it consumed. It was his addition to the Challengelore and it had only taken him to Tanejul thus far. If this were any indication of what was coming up ahead, he would have one of the more lengthy chapters in the Rainwater journal of adventure.
"Those are some hefty experiences that you have come through, Laddy," Sjorud said. "If I did not know that you are a Rainwaterman, I would have thought that you were trying to pull my leg. But I do know of your origin and I must take your story on face value. I cannot dismiss what you say lightly by believing that it is all conjecture and only one man's biased interpretation of the forces that assail him."
"I'm telling you the truth!" Chiapos gasped, interpreting the old man's comments as the precursor of a denial to the validity of what happened to him.
"I know you are telling me the truth," Sjorud said. "The truth in your eyes. I must say though much of it borders on the incredulous. I have lived ninety-five years and I have met all kinds of people in my time but I have never met anybody who claims that he has seen the mighty Cenan, let alone the Mammoth himself. Why is it you think that you have been chosen to be the centrepoint of this impending catastrophe that you have told me about? What have you done that is so special that a legendary figure long thought dead would reveal herself to you and let you suck at her breast?"
"I have no answer for that," Chiapos said, at length. "I'm just an ordinary man that comes from no high station in life. I do not know why I am the one that must bear the burden of the upcoming battle."
Sjorud paused. The buffalo, Dedication, came to a stop. "I will tell you why this has happened to you. It is fate that has drawn you into this quagmire. All these forces were welling up for quite some time and would have taken place regardless of whether you were embarked on your adolescent quest or not. I would say that prior to you coming onto the scene, the Aura in Ascension had determined that now was the time to mount his attack upon the Mammoth. Everything was pointing to his quick success over the Lord of the Tester. But what this Dark Aura did not count upon was that a mere mortal human being would come upon the Wood of Faerie and would thus become empowered to defend the status quo. When the Mammoth and his High Priestess discovered your good fortune, they decided to bolster you with her magical milk and give you a status almost on the same level as an Aura. It was your stumbling upon the Redeemer that has made you a central figure in this war of the Auras and I believe that it was nothing more than fate that led you to select that magical wood as your walking stick. You even admit that there were other branches and sticks that you could have just as easily grabbed at to break your fall from the trees in the Tester. But something drew you to the Redeemer and that could only be fate."
"And is it fate that I have subsequently lost that stick?" Chiapos asked, feeling almost admonished for losing such a valuable artifact.
"No, that wasn't fate. That was Samarin, the conniving thief. He is an opportunist and he doesn't care an iota about the rest of the world. They could all be damned as far as he is concerned. Once he became privy to the magical quality of your Redeemer, he was quick to surmise its value on the market."
"Do you think that he has sold it already?" Chiapos asked sheepishly, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"That depends on how long he has been in town and what types of offers he has received."
"I'm not sure how long he has been in town. It couldn't be more than a few days. Have you seen him?"
Sjorud laughed. "You forget that you are talking to a blind man. I haven't seen anybody in years!"
"Sorry, sorry. I forgot," Chiapos murmured meekly. "You don't seem like a blind man. You seem to be very aware of your surroundings."
"You have to be, Laddy, or the muggers and the thieves would take you for everything you have!" Sjorud chuckled. Then he added, "As you can see, I haven't been as careful as I should have been for all that I possess I have upon me now!"
All that Chiapos could see was the clothes on Sjorud's back and the cane in his hand. These items were not in very good shape compared to the apparel of others on the road. "You have got your senses Sjorud and you have got a friend."
"Even those things don't last forever but thank you for calling me a friend. I haven't been called that for some time now."
Chiapos imagined that the old, blind man would be considered a pariah in the Tanejul community, someone who was despised and shunned yet someone who was tolerated nonetheless as a necessary evil. He did not see Sjorud in that light at all.
"Samarin's house is just on the other side of the river," Sjorud said. "We can cross the river by foot at the end of this road."
"By foot!" Chiapos exclaimed. "It is almost winter, the water would be freezing, and it is too deep, and the current would sweep us away!"
Sjorud's good humour remained with him as he giggled. "There's a bridge at the end of the road, Laddy! It spans the Gibbins and we can walk across it, by foot."
Chiapos felt his face flush but before he could mumble any excuse for being so obviously naive, Sjorud bailed him out. "You and your people would not have known about this bridge in your Challengelore. It was not there in the time of Thedden. It was only built a couple of decades ago. You don't have to feel silly about your ignorance, Laddy."
"How much else of Tanejul has changed since the time of Thedden?" Chiapos asked.
"Oh, the town has been changed wholesale since the time of your predecessor but the town has also stayed the same until quite recently. The people and buildings come and go but there is a timeless nature to Old Tanejul, one that those who were born here and lived here all their lives can sense as well as to those landfarers who come here only once in their lives. It is the sense of humanity that is the overriding atmosphere of Tanejul. This is a place built by and made up of people. Men and women who live out in the territories attest that where they come from it is Nature rather than people that is the primary building block of the places they call home. I imagine your Rainwater is like that, is it not?"
"I never really put that notion to thought," Chiapos said. "Rainwater has always been and will always be my home. My family is like myself and all the villagers are like family. When I think of Rainwater I think of people." He paused for a moment and reflected upon all those thousands of nights under starry skies where the entire village would be gathered around the central firepits listening to the elders retell tales from the Challengelore. Those were happy nights and they were the nights that he had every night of his life prior to embarking on his adventure. The nights that he spent on this Challenge of his for the most part did not compare to those Rainwater nights. There was no wonder that most Challengers return to Rainwater like salmon to their spawning grounds.
Sjorud interrupted his thoughts. "But these people had daily interacted with Nature and did not try to intervene in its benign despotic dominion over their lives. Here, in Tanejul, almost every project that is undertaken has always at its core a new strategy to overcome Nature and replace it with some controlled mechanism that would make the people the rulers of their lives instead. And perhaps it is this removal of Nature in the Tanejulian life that has led to our current suspicions of strangers and our insulated attitudes of our own self importance."
"You are putting the blame on the people?" Chiapos quirked his brow. "Haven't I proven to you that it is the Aura in Ascension that is your problem?"
"Your Aura did not create the feelings of isolation in Tanejul, he has only capitalized on them. Had Tanejul still looked to the country instead of to itself, the Aura would not have found any fears to feed upon."
The old man and the Rainwaterman continued to chatter quietly to each other upon philosophical subjects as they kept moving steadily down the street. The day was starting to wane and the shadows from the houses and buildings started to take on eerie shades that Chiapos found intoxicating yet foreboding. Accompanying the shades, the air was beginning to take on the odour of dirty water and if he listened carefully enough, Chiapos was already beginning to hear the steady murmur of the river uphead. It was a strange, strange place - one that was unlike any place that he had ever been.
"You truly are becoming an immortal," Sjorud suddenly remarked. "We have been walking steadily for hours and I'm getting famished and yet you do not seem to have slowed down a bit."
"I told you that Cenan's milk was an elixir. But if you like, we can stop and you can have something to eat," Chiapos offered.
"That is a very nice gesture, Laddy, but you are forgetting one thing. This is not the forest or the field where you can just pick up a root and start nibbling. This is the town. There is no food ready at hand."
"Then what do you normally do, Sjorud, when you get hungry?"
"The answer to that is simple enough. I beg."
This answer was not good enough for Chiapos. "We have to remain inconspicuous. Begging would only draw attention to us."
"Begging is what I normally do. But I do not normally travel with a Comptode Buffalo in my company. However, a good nourishing meal is easily at hand with your friend, Dedication."
"Dedication? The buffalo?" Chiapos was at a loss at what Sjorud meant. And then a sinister answer rose to mind. "You aren't saying that you want to eat Dedication, are you?"
Sjorud smiled wickedly. "Not all of him, just a part of him."
"You're not going to kill him!" Chiapos growled, unbelieving that Sjorud could truly mean what he was proposing. "He has saved my life twice. I'm not going to let you!"
"Relax, will you, Laddy! You take things to heart far too fast," Sjorud was fumbling for something in his pocket.
Chiapos seized the hand, fearing that the old man was going to draw out a knife. But when he pulled the hand free from the garment, there was no knife in the grip of Sjorud's fingers. The object instead was a long, narrow tube made of a transparent material that seemed like ice. "What's that?"
"It's my sucking tube from the days when I worked for Grooding," Sjorud said with near glee. He apparently enjoyed shocking the Rainwaterman. "I've had this ever since I worked on Grooding's livery. I have had many a nourishing meal with it." Turning his attention away from Chiapos, he called out, "Dedication, come here my fine bull. I have a treat for the both of us."
The buffalo that had been chewing his cud a few feet away from the pair, rotated his large head and looked at the old man. Sjorud waved his sucking tube in the air and whistled. Dedication apparently recognized the apparatus and lowed with the same exuberance of a happy puppy yapping upon seeing its master. And like a big lumbering oversized puppy, he ran towards Sjorud. It even seemed like his tail was wagging.
"Comptodes love the sucking tube!" the old man explained, as he caught hold of the buffalo's neck and began rubbing it and working his fingers through the thick almost fur-like hair. "It cleans their blood from parasites that causes their skin to itch. People love it because it is a great utensil to get at some of the most savoury food a person can ever enjoy." From another pocket, he pulled out a frail, thin, worn leaf that he rolled into a skinny shape. Taking the leaf, he pushed it through the sucking tube.
Chiapos interrupted him. "Why doesn't that ice melt in your hands?"
"Ice?" Sjorud queried, before sighing, "Ah, yes, you are from the back country and the chances are that you are not acquainted with glass. It's a most remarkable material that when made properly you would not even know that it is there because you wouldn’t be able to see it. And strange as it may seem to you, glass is made of nothing other than sand and heat."
"Sand and heat?" Chiapos was astounded. Sand was always gritty and grey to him and he stepped on many sands that were very hot to the feet. He would never have believed that it could achieve such a clear quality.
"I will explain it to you sometime." Sjorud said, still rubbing the leaf back and forth through the sucking tube. "Now, this leaf comes from a very rare tree that washes up on shore at the mouth of the Gibbins. This leaf has some property that when it enters the Comptode's blood, it kills all the parasites that may be floating around in its veins. I don't quite understand how it works either, all that I know is that it does. There that should do it."
He put the magical leaf back in his pocket while placing the tube to his mouth. The tube now had a greenish hue to it from the leaf. With the colour, Chiapos could see that one end of the sucking tube was flat and rounded while the other end was dog incisor-sharp. The old man pricked the pointed end into Dedication's neck while blowing through the other side. The greenish colour of the leaf resins inside the tube was being blown into the buffalo's bloodstream. To Chiapos, the old man said, "I will wait a few moments to allow the resins to clear away from the wound and then it will be my turn for satisfaction."
Dedication did not seem to be aroused by the glass tube dangling in his neck. The animal almost was exuding satisfaction if it were possible to read such emotion in a buffalo's demeanour. He kept his head down low and had a slow pace to his breath.
A minute passed and then Sjorud placed his mouth on the tube and began to inhale. Instantly, the tube was awash with buffalo blood that the old man gobbled up quickly and happily. All that Dedication did was shuffle his feet and other than that did not give any indication of being disturbed. Sjorud drank for several minutes. When he finally finished his mouth and lips were red. He lapped it up with his tongue and smiled. "Nothing like some Comptode blood to fill an empty tummy!” he said, while removing the tube from Dedication's neck. Chiapos stepped closer to inspect the harm done to the buffalo. All that was visible from this vampire feeding was a tiny prick in the skin. Already the bleeding had stopped.
"Comptode buffaloes are known all over for the high quality of their blood," Sjorud said. "And I must say that your animal has some of the finest blood that I have ever tasted. Samarin's livery is showing every sign of becoming the premier breeder of Comptodes in all of Mallog’mor’ach."
At the mention of that nefarious name, Chiapos cringed. He had to find that brigand soon. It was time to be on the move again. He had to get the Redeemer back and with a little prodding he got Sjorud moving again. Darkness had almost completely engulfed the fetid air. But with the approach of evening, fires started to light up everywhere adding a smoky stench to the already wreaking environment.
Chiapos felt safer moving under the cover of night. He would not be as conspicuous as during the day. Sjorud did much to allay his ill at ease by talking about the history of the Comptode buffaloes. It was amazing the amount of knowledge that this man had accrued about a single species of animal. Chiapos was beginning to feel that he, himself, was becoming an expert on the Comptode. The more he learned the more he grew to admire Dedication and he belittled himself for his initial dislike of the buffalo. Whether Dedication was aware of what was being said of him and his kind, Chiapos did not know but there was a certain swagger to his gait that had to be read as pride.
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