Farlander

Nico sighed, rocking back on his haunches. He did not look at the old man.

'Here,' said Ash, holding the wooden gourd out to him.

Nico ignored it for the moment, instead watching as a soft gust fanned the flames so that they sparked into the night. 'I am not one for drink,' he declared at last.

Ash considered that. 'Your father… he was a drunk?'

Now it was Nico's turn to avoid the question. He rubbed his hands together again, blew into them. He could see from the corner of his eye that Ash was watching him.

'And what you feared in your father, you now fear most in yourself.'

'He could get angry on the drink,' Nico admitted. 'I do not wish to go the same way.'

'I understand that. But you are not your father, boy, just as he is not you. Here, now, try a little. All things in moderation, even moderation itself. Besides, it will keep you warm.'

Nico sighed again, then took the gourd from the old man and sat studying it for a moment.

'Careful now. It is potent brew.'

Nico put it to his mouth and tried a sip. He gasped at its brackish sting against his throat, and coughed.

'What is this stuff?' he rasped, passing back the gourd.

'Barley water – and a few drops of sweat from the wild Ibos. They call it Cheem Fire.'

Nico did not like the sound of that. Warmth pulsed through his belly, but he knew enough to realize that it was an illusory heat. His father had once explained how falling asleep drunk in dropping temperatures could be fatal. 'You think it wise to get drunk tonight?' he asked.

The old man swatted at him as though he were a fly. 'Let your hair down, boy. Besides, a hangover will help us for what we have to do tomorrow.' Which of course made no sense at all to Nico, but he said nothing more.

They ate a supper of cured ham and a loaf of keesh shared between them, washed down with cups of chee brewed from the water of a nearby stream. They drank more Cheem Fire, and became merrier still as the light faded and the stars gathered overhead. The fire crackled and sparked against a darkness made blacker still by the light of the flames. They warmed their feet against it, their boots off.

'Is it far from here?' Nico managed, after some time gazing into the flames, that were hissing and dancing with life, almost lost in his thoughts.

'What?'

'The monastery. Is it far?'

The old man shrugged. He had picked up a stone, and was tossing it deftly into the air with one hand.

'Why do you shrug?'

'Because I do not know.'

He must be drunk, Nico thought. 'But if you live there,' he tried again, 'how can you not know how far we must travel?'

'Nico, trust me, will you? It will all make sense in the morning. For now, drink up, and enjoy. After tonight, when we finally reach Sato, you will have much hard work and tough training ahead of you.'

Reluctantly, Nico accepted the gourd once more. He took another fiery gulp and returned it, then lay on his back to watch the stars, one elbow crooked beneath his neck. It was getting colder.

From the corner of his eye he could see Ash still clutching the stone in his hand, as he studied the seal that hung about his own neck. Nico turned to study him: the man wore an expression of sombre self-reflection.

I might have known, thought Nico. He's a maudlin drunk, just like my father.

Ash looked up from the seal, to see Nico staring at him. He grunted and tucked it back beneath his robe. 'What?' he said.

'Nothing, Ash… Master Ash. I have a question.'

The old farlander sighed. 'Then ask it.'

'You said the seal you are wearing is dead now. But that it once belonged to a patron.'

'Yes.'

'If you use the seals as deterrents, why then do you not wear your own seal? Why do you not protect yourself with the threat of vendetta?'

Ash's teeth flashed in the firelight. 'At last,' he said, 'a question worthy of discussion,' and he again threw the stone up, spinning, and snatched it out of the air.

Ash leaned closer, as though to confide in him. 'I will tell you something, Nico, and you must remember it always.' His breath was hot, spicy. 'Revenge, my boy… revenge is a cycle that has no end. Its beginning is violence and its offspring is violence. In between, there is nothing but pain. 'That is why we Rshun wear no seals to protect ourselves. In truth we hope always to provide a deterrent, and nothing more. For we know better than most that vengeance serves no positive value in this world. This is simply the profession which our life paths have led us to.'

'You make it sound as though what you do is wrong?'

'We do not see it in terms of either wrong or right. Our work is morally neutral, and this you must understand, for it lies at the heart of the Rshun creed. It is like this: we are rocks on a slope, set into motion by the movement of other rocks. We simply follow the natural fall of events.

He paused for a moment's thought. 'But we must never make this business of ours personal. Otherwise, we become something more than a simple force of motion. We become part of the cycle itself. If I were to be killed in vendetta, another Rshun would take my place, and then another, and another still, until the same vendetta was concluded for the patron and our obligations fulfilled. And then it would be finished. We wear no seal and we seek no revenge for ourselves. That way, we break the cycle.'

The old man finished with a long pull on the gourd. He wiped his lips, gave Nico a light shove. 'Understand?'

Nico's head was swimming, and not just from the drink. His thoughts were confused. Khosians understood vendetta; they felt it in their bones and knew its impulse like a fish knows to swim. Their sagas were full of bloody murder and revenge, and those characters who sought retribution were always the heroes of the story.

He nodded, even though he was a good deal uncertain.

'Good. Then you have learned the most valuable lesson of all.'

A burning ember spat clear of the fire. The sound caused Nico to jump. He watched the ember as it glowed on the grass between his bare feet, fading slowly to greyness. He accepted another pull of the gourd. Illusory or not, it was good to feel warm inside. He suspected he was already a little drunk, and decided that it was no terrible thing after all. In fact he felt cheered, and somewhat lightened of his many burdens. He settled back once more to take in the night sky.

The stars were bright up here in the mountains, the brightest of them almost pulsating in their brilliance. When Nico swung his head from far left all the way to far right, he could follow the milky sweep of the Great Wheel across the heavens; when he looked downwards from the Wheel, off to the right of the fire, he could see his two favourite constellations studding the blackness – the Mistress, with the stars composing her hand holding those of her broken mirror; and beside and above her the Great Fool, the Sage of the World, posturing with his faithful meerkat at his feet, four small glimmers in a jiggling line – his only companion at the end, when he gave up the celestial throne to wander the world and to bring the teachings of the Dao.

A meteor streaked overhead, followed almost instantly by another. To the east, a comet trailed a finger of light across the heavens. Nico breathed it all in, and felt at peace.

It was a peace interrupted, however, by the sound of Ash chuckling quietly to himself in the firelight.

Nico ignored him, thinking him drunk beyond sense. But the old man continued to chuckle.

'What amuses you?' Nico finally demanded, his words slurred.

Ash rocked back and forth, trying to contain himself, but a glance at Nico's expression only made him worse. He pointed the gourd in Nico's direction, tried to say something around his mirth, but had to try again.

'All is lost!' he cried in mocking mimicry of Nico's young voice.

Nico scowled, the blood rushing to his cheeks. The last thing he wished to be reminded of was the airship battle and the moment he had almost broken down. Such shame was something he needed to keep buried.

He opened his mouth to shut the old man up with some sharpened words of his own, but Ash pointed at him as he did so, and seemed to know what he was going to say, and it only made him laugh harder.

Perhaps it was the Cheem Fire, or perhaps it was the glint in the old man's eyes, without malice or condescension, for Nico suddenly found himself caught up in the man's humour, seeing the funny side of it without