The smooth wood door opened easily at his touch. A week ago, he had been dragged through the polished stone hallways to this room, a criminal awaiting his sentencing for what he considered petty thievery. Now Aiden walked with a confident step through the door. Not even the guard’s rough handling of him as they confiscated his daggers could dampen his mood. He came to a stop a few feet from the sprawling oak desk, waiting for the man sitting at it to acknowledge him. Five, then ten minutes later, the Abbot continued reading one of the reports that stacked a forearm’s length high. Aiden chased away the mild annoyance, reminding himself that the Abbot could take days for all he cared; the next time he exited that door it would be the last. Elena, his dear wife, would be thrilled to see him. It didn’t matter where he had been, only that he was home then and that was all that mattered.
“Alden eh? Is that what you call yourself now?” The Abbot finally remarked, rolling the parchment slowly.
“Does it matter? You’ve read the report then, so you know that I did what you requested of me.” Aiden responded with a flat tone.
“And exorcisms? Did you think before you spat out that lie to them?”
“You didn’t give me much to go off of, Abbot sir, so I had to be a little creative. It isn’t a big deal.” Aiden shrugged. “Just have one of your priests go out there and perform a little ritual.”
The Abbot seemed to consider his words calmly. “Not a big deal?” He demanded, snatching up the scroll and throwing it at Aiden. “No? Maybe not for you, little thief! The church has long since abandoned the practice! How am I to find someone who can do such a thing? Hmm?” He yelled, the flush in thick neck deepening. The Abbot sagged back into his high-backed chair, the plush velvet sighing under his weight.
“Was that necessary? If you all have abandoned the practice then just go make a show of it! Wave your hands and incant something, for all I care.” The flippant tone served to only enrage the Abbot further.
“And when word spreads that we are bloody excising the bodies of the dead, how must we keep up the appearance? All will be clamoring for it! Already my desk is filled with reports of chaos and protest from those ungrateful villages. Farmers!” His fist pounded down on the desk and Aiden couldn’t keep from thinking how very childish the Abbot seemed at that moment. “Farmers are refusing to plant their crops and till their fields! I barely have enough manpower to dispatch for peacekeeping and you would have me send more!”
“It was all I could do to get them to help me!” Aiden shouted over the Abbot’s outbursts. “If they thought that nothing would come of killing those things then they wouldn’t have lent me a damn bit of rope to do what was necessary.”
The Abbot lunged to his feet, his meaty fists on the table for support. “Keep digging yourself a deeper grave, thief.” He warned, looking like a hunched and hungry bear ready to spring onto its meal.
Aiden’s hands went up into the air, and tired of the man’s diatribe, he said without thinking, “So go pay a shaman to do it then.”
It was the last thread on a thin rope and the Abbot exploded. “How dare you mention those heretics in my presence?” The Abbot stalked toward him, his sausage fingers wide-spread as his arms waved in rage. “Dissidents and unbelievers, I’ll have them all hanged! And you-“ The fat man stood no more than an inch away from Aiden’s nose and it took all of his willpower to not back away. “I’ll have you hanged along with them if you so much as whisper that word again in here.” His words were no more than a throaty growl.
It was the sound of the door cracking open that was Aiden’s savior. The Abbot’s attention focused on the guard who peeked inside. “Stay out until you are called for you insolent dogs!” The door slammed shut again and there was no doubt that the guards would be punished later for their indiscretion.
Aiden swallowed nervously, knowing that he had to say something to diffuse the situation. “All I’m saying is that if you don’t assert your presence the people will turn to someone else for guidance. Your actions are deciding who it will be that they listen to: you or the… the cultists.”
His words seemed to have some effect on the Abbot. The man’s face still boiled red but his neck faded into a blotchy pink as he regained control over himself. The Abbot must have known it could fall to a battle for worshipers between the Church and the cultists. The notion coming from a simple trapper was of far greater concern. There was no way to tell how many others among the populace felt the same.
Taking a cue from the Abbot’s sudden silence, Aiden continued. “And think about what you will accomplish if Annadell spreads word that the Church is taking a stand against these evil things and eradicating them. They will believe you can save them from this misery.” Aiden’s tongue felt thick and slimy as he spoke. He did not believe a syllable that left his own lips, but this was a volatile situation.
“Annadell is barely a speck along the road.” The Abbot argued, his voice a civilized volume.
“Not for long. The roads to and from Haybridge are blocked off. This keeps the trappers from the lucrative forests to the south and the traders from
Silence settled between the two men as the Abbot considered Aiden’s off-the-cuff proposal. “Perhaps you have a point, trapper.” He responded finally. “I will see what I can do for Annadell. In the mean time I have something else for you to do.”
“I-I’ve repaid my debt.” Aiden choked out, stunned by the notion of doing more of the Church’s dirty work. “I helped the village and killed the damn wretches.”
“Oh now the big hero thinks he’s done, does he?” The Abbot mocked, his eyes rolling sarcastically. “I need you to—,” he began to say but Aiden interrupted.
“No! I’m through here! I have to see my family!” He exclaimed.
“You think it was just the trinkets which you are being punished for?” The Abbot demanded, his tone deepening severely.
“It was only trinkets!”
“Wrong again, thief! You will do as I say until I tell you that you’re debt is paid!” He continued on, taking Aiden’s shocked silence as an acceptance of the situation. “Go to the Canals here in Fairweather and check the outer seal.”
Inside, Aiden seethed. His stomach boiled in the face of what he thought to be a double-cross. The Abbot made his way around to the other side of the desk, stopping only as Aiden slammed his fist onto the desk’s surface. Papers scattered to the floor with a flutter of red and gold seals.
“I am NOT doing it. It isn’t fair and you know it.”
“Fair or not that is how it is. You will go to the canals and give me a report on how the is seal holding up.”
“No.” Aiden said flatly.
“What?”
“I said no. I have a family to consider and you would have me abandon them without food or the means to get it. I cannot and will not do it.” His green eyes narrowed on the Abbots beady black ones. The stand-off held, the two men resembling leashed boxing dogs that could do nothing but stare at one another.
“I don’t think you understand. I am not requesting anything, I am telling you what you will do.” The Abbot leaned forward on his desk, coming face to face with Aiden again.
Aiden shook his head. “I can’t leave them.”
“Listen carefully.” The Abbot began, his voice going suddenly hollow and cold. “I can take everything from you. You will disappear from this world in an eye blink and your name scrubbed from the record books. With one word, I can make your house crumbled to gravel and arrange for your pretty wife to be trapped underneath it!” He hissed. “Your children will be taken in out of charity. Imagine that, little Aiden and his big sister in the drab green robes of a novice initiate, washing the floors I walk on and while I will have disposed of you, I will make sure they think their father died a heretic’s death. How do you think your children will fare when they are haunted by the knowledge that there is nothing left for them in this world than a bristle brush and endless hallways to scrub?” The Abbot savored the stricken look that Aiden could not hide. Beyond the posh lifestyle afforded to him, it was the power he held over another human being that thrilled him the most.
Aiden had been brave, taking a stand against the highest ranked church official, but he remembered stories of families turning up missing. There are been rumors that the church was involved and now, Aiden knew that those were no mere rumors.
“All of that unpleasantness can be avoided, if you will choose wisely now.”
His eyes dropped and shoulders slouched in defeat. There was no choice. “Just check the seal?” He whispered, unable to find the energy to speak.
The Abbot smiled. “Feel free to eradicate any of those nasty things that have gotten past the seal as well.”
Aiden took the offered scroll that detailed his mission with a limp grip. He headed for the door when a thought stopped him. “There is a problem with your scheme.”
“It is not a scheme. You are doing a great service.” The Abbot’s tone had changed completely, attempting to be good-natured and light hearted. It might have worked had Aiden not been witness to the malice that lurked below the surface of the pudgy man.
“Call it what you will. I will be recognized.”
The Abbot thought about this for a moment, his fingers drumming against the desktop. “That could be a problem.” He muttered, more to himself than to Aiden. From within the desk’s drawers he withdrew a small square of fresh parchment and began writing quickly with his feather pen. “Here, take this to the clothiers. She will fit you with a mask to wear.”
His feet dragging along the floor, Aiden reluctantly took the paper. “How do I explain the mask to someone?”
The Abbot waved his hands dismissively. “Oh you can figure something out. Say you have a coughing illness or something of the sort. I have faith that you can think of something.”
“If I’m going back in there then I need something else too.” Aiden pressed his luck, hoping that the Abbot would give him more supplies.
“And what would that be?” The Abbot impatiently asked.
“Oil and not that cheap, diluted type either that the stores in town sell. I need the high-quality oil that burns for hours.”
“What do you need that for?”
Aiden wetted his lips and glanced at the sconce that burned steadily on the wall behind the Abbot. “When I lit one on fire, it was low quality oil that burned away so quickly it almost didn’t get the job done. Something like what you use in those.” He nodded toward the sconce and waited for the Abbot’s response.
The Abbot held out his hand for the paper and wrote something else on the back. “There is a priest here whom we refer to as the Chemist.” He spoke as he wrote, the pen scratching furiously. “You may ask the guards for directions but do not dare be rude to this man. While I may tolerate your rampant disrespect, he will not hesitate to have you confined to a cell until your tongue learns some manners.” The parchment thrust back toward him and Aiden took it, crumpling it in his fist as he bit back a response.
“Get out of my sight, I’ve had all I can stand of you today.” The Abbot sat back down into his chair, flattening the velvet instantly. Sweat beaded along his forehead and neck.
Aiden left the room, taking only a small scrap of satisfaction that he had at least irritated the man beyond normal measures. Maybe next time the gluttonous beast would die from heart failure. The thought pleased Aiden very much.
No comments:
Post a Comment