So they strolled through the city to an open arena, where many people were gathered, and Kestrel was introduced to the crowd. Cheers resounded among the people gathered to bid, and those who gathered to watch the bidding action. “How long will this last?” Kestrel asked Castona, after they left the stage and sat in a private box to one side.
“I suspect it will last about an hour. We won’t stay to watch. We need to get you to your next stop,” the merchant said. Just then the auctioneer came by, and was introduced to Kestrel.
“Tell me some stories about the battle with the yeti,” the auctioneer asked. “It gives the auction more color when I can pepper some topical references into the action.
So Kestrel repeated parts of the story, telling about the arrows that bounced off the tough hide, the mighty blows that had harmed him and his companions, the death of Artur. They remained in the box after the auctioneer left, and watched as the action began. A pageant of helpers began to carry goods out onto the stage, placing them on tables and stands.
“Where’s the keg of blood?” Kestrel asked after the last item was put on display.
“We split it up into twenty containers. Each one will be sold off separately, because we know there are so many bidders interested in yeti blood. But we need to get going,” the merchant said, standing up, and he led Kestrel back to the palace. “The herald will take you from here; they decided to inject your tattoos here. I’ll talk to you later. Come by my shop this afternoon or tomorrow and we’ll settle up on the proceeds from the auction.”
“Welcome back young champion,” the herald said. He was the same black-garbed announcer who has spoken to and for Kestrel on the stage the previous day.
“What is your name?” Kestrel asked.
“Moresond,” the man replied with aplomb. “And you are Kestrel, correct?”
After Kestrel’s nod, Moresond began to lead him back through the palace to a small stone structure set in a private garden. “This is the palace chapel to Kai,” the herald explained. They opened the door and stepped in, where Kestrel was surprised to see three men and several bouquets of flowers. He saw several candles burning, and smelled incense as well.
“The Doge commanded that you receive your tattoos here in this chapel,” Moresond said. “It’s quite unusual, but of course the artist agreed.”
“Who says no to the Doge?” one of the waiting men said with a smile.
“Now, if you’ll remove your shirt, we’ll take a look at what we’ve got to work with,” he commanded.
“I’ll leave you now,” Moresond announced. I’ll come by, or send someone by to check on you from time to time. If you need anything, just find a guard in the palace and tell them.
“Lie down over here,” the tattoo artist told the shirtless Kestrel, gesturing towards a plain cot set up on the altar.
“It looks like a sacrifice,” one of the attendants joked as he watched Kestrel take the position.
“It isn’t, is it?” Kestrel asked with a grin, and they all laughed.
“Now, I hope you’ve got a reasonable pain tolerance level. I’m going to spend the next few hours poking lots of needles into your skin. If you think you need a shot of white corn, let me know, and we’ll set it up for you,” the tattoo artist told him, opening up a large wooden case that he set down next to where Kestrel lay.
“
His eyes popped open, and whirled around, examining the ceiling overhead, trying to discern what had happened.
“I take it you want the liquor?” the tattooist asked, mistaking the cause of Kestrel’s reaction.
“What? No. No thanks.” Kestrel answered. His mind was racing, trying to guess what had caused Kai to speak to him. He knew the feel of Kai’s touch on his soul, and there was no mistaking the source of the voice.
“
“
“Alright; let’s begin,” the artist spoke, and Kestrel saw his hands move, then felt the process begin. The pain was not bad; each prick was worse than annoying, but not unbearable. There was pain, though it was tolerable pain. But it was constant. Every few seconds the pain was renewed. It slowly spread as the design work on Kestrel’s chest widened.
“What is it you are creating on me?” Kestrel asked at last, following what seemed like hours of needle pricks.
“Well, here on the right side we’re putting the portrait of a sailing ship, a symbol of your rank as a Captain of the Fleet,” the tattooist told him as he pressed another needle into Kestrel’s skin. “I’ve virtually got it finished.
“And over on the left, above your heart, we’re putting the symbol of your role as the Champion of the People of Estone,” he explained.
He poked a needle into Kestrel’s right breast, then sat back. “There, the ship is finished. In a couple of days when the blood is wiped away and the swelling goes down it will be a beauty.
“Now,” he said, and Kestrel felt a needle prick on his left breast, directly over his heart. “Here we go starting the crest.”
“And what exactly does the crest of Estone look like?” Kestrel asked. There was a sudden noise from outside as a gust of wind blew loudly around the chapel structure.
“For you, it will be personalized — quartered on the left, and whole on the right. On the right we will silhouette a yeti, the monster that you bested. On the left the upper quarter will bear a star, the north star that leads travelers to our land, and the lower quarter will bear…”
His words were drowned out by a stone-rattling crash of thunder, as the interior of the chapel suddenly dramatically darkened. All heads looked at the windows, where large drops of rain began to splatter loudly against the panes of glass, falling faster and harder with each second.
“That’s quite a storm moving in,” someone said loudly. The building lit up as lightening streaked across the sky outside, and then another flicker relit the interior again, as another bolt struck very close by, shaking the building and crashing so loudly that one assistant placed his hands over his ears.
There was another crashing lightning strike just as close on the other side of the chapel, that struck so hard dust fell from the rafters above, and then a third strike seemed to hit the chapel itself, the deafening noise making the inside of the church ring, and streaks of light ran along the joints between the stones in the wall, multiple streaming snakes of light that traveled downward, and then congregated together and produced an explosive burst of light and another, bell-like ringing sound.
When the sparks from the explosion faded away, a tall regal figure stood in their place, a woman who glowed faintly. The golden halo was a gentle light, but as she began to walk towards the stunned tableau of men at the front of the chapel, each footstep she took left behind a golden glowing print on the polished marble floor.
“Gods above preserve us!” the tattoo artist screamed, rising and backing away from his seat next to Kestrel, joining his assistants who were huddled together against the wall.
“Kestrel, today you commit yourself to me,” the woman said aloud in a resounding voice.
He lay on his board, preternaturally calm, his head raised, looking up at the approach of Kai, the Air Goddess of the Humans.
He started to rise from his board, so that he could kneel. “No, do not rise. Lay back down,” she commanded him as she approached.
“Where are your manners?” she asked the frightened men against the wall. “Do you not bow down to your goddess?”
All four of them immediately prostrated themselves on the floor, their heads touching the ground.
“Kestrel, you have prayed to me, and you have called upon me for help. I have heard and accepted your prayers. I have granted you favors that you wanted. I have directed your steps at times, so that you might grow and learn in ways that please me, for I have plans to use you for the good of humanity, and for my own needs,” the goddess spoke as she reached Kestrel’s side. He looked directly up into her face, staring upon holy perfection, beauty beyond anything he had ever imagined, and found his sight went blind the instant he perceived how
