Gods & Thieves

6. Hero and Troublemaker

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It's not the first time I'm alone in Tik'al at night, but it's the first time I'm here legally.

My heart still drums in my chest as I wade through the labyrinth of the temple floors and stairs, looking for a way out, and the echo of Loretto's knife pressed to my throat still lingers on my skin. But--strangely--in these dark, quiet halls, I don't feel angry anymore.

Just lonely.

I've always been someone--a son, a friend, a troublemaker. Mostly a troublemaker. I've had people to talk to, to share, to listen to my worries, and now everyone who cares for my worries is out of reach. For those who live in Tik'al, I'm nobody, not even worthy of causing trouble. I saw it in Loretto's eyes: Mentor wouldn't even care if I tried to fight back, because I couldn't possibly do anything to hurt a shaman. Couldn't even steal a knife. Yet Loretto could push that knife between my ribs in the blink of an eye, could cut me open, or slice me into pieces--and then fix me before anyone sees the damage. I would scream, I would beg, I would cry that I had feelings too, but a shaman wouldn't care. No one would even ask me what happened if I hide in a dark corner of this very lonely hall and tremble from nightmares until sunrise after that. Because I'm free. Free to be nobody.

And I got myself into this nightmare all by my own. Good job, Eli.

How do creatures with unstoppable powers even perceive the world? Do they care about anyone? Do they feel guilty for breaking things--or people? Or are they convinced they've been given these powers by gods, to do as they please? In ancient times, people used to stay away from gods, fearing their destructive temper, and now I'm surrounded by their alleged successors. Give up your ring, Elisey Tamm. Stay cuffed all day. Get locked up in our temple, but we'll gracefully call it studying. Shall we play a game of seeing how long you can stay alive?

I'll try not to think of it.

Once I finally make it out of the temple and into an alley, there is at least some perverse satisfaction in walking straight to the guard I've been hiding from just a day ago, and asking for a way to the Postulant House. The guard looks over me, dubious, but I show him my new student bracelet, and he says nothing, only guides me deeper into the shaman city, to the parts I've never seen before, to a small house with dull stone walls behind the Great Temple. The house looks so unremarkable compared to the other buildings that I would've thought it to be an overgrown shed, not a dwelling.

And the bleakness of my new accommodations makes me feel even lonelier. Just a place for a serf.

Inside, it's just as simple as Loretto's apartments are, with a modest common room and several bedrooms. Trying the first three doors and finding them locked, I end up in the corner room, which is seemingly unoccupied. Since I haven't slept for a minute last night, my body betrays me the moment my eyes locate a pillow. Tossing the book Loretto gave me to the desk by the window, I drop to the bed, and its softness instantly carries me into oblivion...

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In the morning, nothing happens.

No teacher.

Through my sleep, I'm vaguely aware of footsteps in the hall, of the door to my room being creaked open, and confused voices discussing me. Then everything stills. When I finally wake up sometime around lunch, I'm alone in the house; my mind refuses to sleep any longer so I take my time, enjoying a shower despite the lack of hot water, and struggling to wash the dirt off my jacket--it's quite an entertaining task if you think of it as of something more important that an attempt to escape despair. The only food I can find is two sour apples on a plate in the common room, which I shamelessly consume, and retreat to my room.