A further tale
Posted by William F. DeVault | Filed under Fiction
There was, in a great city, a great building of great importance. And in it, many great things were decided and accomplished and great men thought great thoughts and spoke great words.
The greatest of these was the man known as Lukal, who was rich beyond imagining and powerful beyond question and surrounded night and day with beautiful and talented people who fed his every whim and praised him in all things.
In time Lukal began to doubt their sincerity, whether due to evidence or just his own all-too-mortal self-doubt, he became very sad and grave, constantly imagining that those around him secretly mocked him and plotted against him. On a whim he summoned the Amomancer, offering him all sorts of inducements to come and perform for him and his entourage.
The word came back that the Amomancer was willing and able to pay a visit and that he wanted three things:
1) A pledge to rebuild an old church that lay just outside the city walls
2) A private audience with Lukal’s wife, Jennai, and
3) A new pair of boots, made to exact specifications, on the day that the poet arrived.
Lukal agreed to all the conditions, while wondering to the purpose at all, and asking his wife why this man would want to speak with her, to which she claimed no knowledge. He asked those friends of his who had known her the longest, and they all were perplexed as to the request.
The church was a simple few days work for a modest work crew. A few holes to be patched and debris to be cleared. The boots, there was no advance word as to the nature of them, so Lukal ordered a local bootmaker to be standing ready with all the tools, supplies and possible leathers that might be employed.
Lukal was taking no chances.
On the appointed day the Amomancer came out of the East, the rising sun casting his shadow over the wall of the city as he approached. His walk was bold, although a hard winter had slowed him with aches and pains, and his famed cloak of muses was in need of patch. As he walked he observed the wind and the sky, the road and the faces of those he passed, making note and even muttering to himself thoughts and impressions, to memorize the experience.
At the gate he was greeted with a great procession and after he was introduced to Lukal’s chief assistant he sat in the street and pulled off his boots. They were simple black boots, worn and weathered. He tossed them to the assistant and asked that another pair be made, identical to them in all but age and wear, by nightfall. The assistant gave them t ohis assistant with the specific orders and off the messenger went, dodging through the curious crowd.
The barefoot Amomancer rose back to his feet and asked to be taken to the rebuilt church. As he approached it was obvious it had been rebuilt and cleaned and he smiled at the assistant to Lukal and said "Well done!"
After a brief inspection, going over details on the altar and the windows as though he had been there before, the Amomancer turned to the assistant and commanded
"Bring me Lukal’s wife and leave us for an hour," he said with a low tone, "alone."
As the crowd was ushered out the assistant called for Jennai to be brought and she arrived in minutes, dressed as though to receive a prince (or there were always the rumours of the Amomancer’s true identity), and as she entered the church, the assistant left, pulling closed the door behind him and standing to block the way to curious onlookers.
"I bet you are wondering why I asked to speak with you," the Amomancer said to Jennai. As Lukal was a man of status, she was young and beautiful and well educated and not afraid to speak her mind.
"The thought occurred to me," she replied, "that you may have some questions about why my husband summoned you.
"He did not summon me."
"I was there when he decided to send for you, so I know that he did."
The Amomancer roared a laugh, derisive and cruel.
"I set him to the task, seeding the local tapestry with stories and songs of lonely men of power, beseiged by shallow and craven liars on all sides."
Jennai looked at him and snapped back "Why would you do such a thing?"
"It was necessary, before he found out the truths around him and lost faith in his vision of the world and was no longer a man who is, on the whole, a force for good. You will cease your affair with Mallin."
Jennai turned on him, her eyes narrowed with anger.
"That’s a lie, " she barked.
"I wish it was, but such is the nature of people that they often do not appreciate what they have been given in grace," he growled, "I know of your affair with Mallin, and before him Axtauk, who left town when you discarded him for his friend."
She looked at the poet uncomprehendingly.
"A drunken and spurned lover often speaks of his sorrows when plied with the nectar of sad song. I will restore your husband’s joy and you will stay faithful to him and him alone for at least five years, at which time you are free to leave him, but not betray or humiliate him."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then Mallin dies tonight, a suicide, and in his note he implicates you in the affair. You will be cursed and cut off, left penniless and your name will become a synonym for harlot. I will place such sorrow in him that he will take his life when and where I wish, cursing your name as he dies."
"Why do you do this to me? "
"Because I have been Lukal. And Mallin. And you. And Axtauk. If I must live in so polluted a sphere, I shall at least try to clear a few plots where I can lay my head without pain and sorrow."
"I could have you killed for your impertinence."
"You could try."
"I could claim you tried to seduce me."
"Then I would wager my reputation against yours and you would suffer in the light. Mallin would never stay silent if directly suspected. Do as I say and I shall write of you a song of your beauty and fidelity that shall make all women envious and all men respectful. Cross me and learn to live in less finery."
The Amomancer left at dusk, after his performance for Lukal. As the crowd murmured in awe at his new work "Jennai’s Ode", his new boots made a satisfying rhythm on the dirt road as he continued West, his shadow rising above the city wall.
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