My writing slump has passed. This week I woke up with new stories floating around in my head. I’ve started at least two more short stories and I’m totally energized about finishing the edits of my manuscript. Good thing too, because it’s due for submission by 31 March. Maybe its the renewed energy of Spring. The sun is shining more and the days are growing longer. My energy levels are definitely up.
Jamming to EDM or Deep House always helps too. Although bouncing to the beat makes typing a little more challenging, but the backspace key gets a great workout. I’m going to jump right into the next chapter this week because I’ve got a LOT of editing to get through this weekend. So, back to Bex.
Chapter 10
Following Muut through the narrow, white-washed lanes of the outer town, I clutched the satchel that held the manuscript. We passed through the Ghur Market and I held it tighter as a merchant eyed my bundle closely. The blue-grey shadows stretched across the alleys draping the lanes in bruised evening light. My stomach growled as we skirted around a small café where there was a large pot perched over a fire. I stopped and stared as the merchant scooped something out and dumped it into a bowl for one of his customers. It was amazing to see actual flames licking up the sides of the metal cook pot. Most families had converted over to the cold stoves some time back as it made cooking more tolerable. Unfortunately, the citizens who live on the edge of the town don’t have the luxury of purchasing a cold stove. Their lives are simple, and they live off what they can scrounge from the desert – which isn’t usually very much.
The man’s thin arms were muscular and shone with the day’s sweat as he handed the bowl to a woman sat at one of the small metal tables. She took the bowl gently setting it on the table in front of her. Then she raised one hand to touch her forehead lightly as she bowed her head, thanking whichever God she believed granted her meal.
“This way,” Muut called from down the lane.
I scurried to catch up with him. “I didn’t know people still cooked with open fire.”
“Yah, in the outer edges of the town, people live as they wish. And many cling to the old ways. I think that’s why my GrandSir lives out here. He finds it a simpler way of living,” Muut explained. “Less intrusive, as he calls it.”
“Well, I just hope he doesn’t have one of those fires burning in his home. That scares me,” I wiped my brow with the back of my hand. “And it’s hot enough.”
Muut chuckled, “I can’t imagine you being scared of anything.”
“Well, now you know my weakness, don’t tell anyone else,” I laughed as I matched his stride.
Muut stopped at a small building with a door that looked as if it had been stitched together with scraps of discarded metal. It had a small round window in the middle that was now open and encircled an ancient face that peered out at us. The old man squinted in the dimming light, scowling at being disturbed. Then, the corners of his milky grey eyes lifted, and I heard a light cackle erupt.
“Thamuut, so good to see you boy,” he croaked through the hole.
“Hello GrandSir Khin. We’ve come for dinner as I promised,” Muut called through the portal.
“Dinner? Oh yes, yes, that’s why your ma made so much.” There was a series of clicks and the grinding sound of a large bolt before the door creaked open. “Come in, come in.”
Ducking our heads as we passed through the little doorway, I followed Muut. It took a bit for my eyes to adjust to the dusky interior lit only by a crystal lamp hanging from the center of the domed room. Once through the door, we could stand up again although if I stretched my arm up, I could easily touch the ceiling.
“Please sit, sit,” GrandSir Khin ushered us toward a table set with three places and two chairs. He shuffled to a corner and pulled out a little three-legged stool placing it in front of the third place setting. In the middle of the table sat a yellow pot filled with a delicious smelling stew. Next to the pot sat a basket filled with crusty bread rolls and another bowl brimming with stalks of berlo, their bushy green tops vibrant in the amber light. Muut’s GrandSir pointed to the chair in the corner for me to sit, so I scooted around Muut and took my place. Still holding my satchel on my lap, I smiled as Muut moved to sit on the stool and his GrandSir gave him a little push toward the other chair.
“You’re my guest. Sit where I tell you.” He commanded, as he squatted on the little stool and reached for the ladle in the yellow pot.
I took the bowl he offered me and sniffed deeply, “This smells delicious.”
Muut’s stomach suddenly growled, and we all looked at each other, then laughed.
“An extra scoop in yours then, yes,” his GrandSir quipped, as he dumped some more stew in the bowl he was holding.
“Thank you, Grands,” Muut said as he took the bowl offered to him. “I missed my mid-meal today as I was working on a new experiment in my lab and forgot the time.”
We enjoyed a light conversation as we finished our meal. Muut updated his GrandSir about his latest theories and experiments. It was cute to see how Muut looked after his GrandSir. Breaking up the crusty loaf, scooping another serving of stew and then collecting the dishes after we finished. I sat with my satchel still resting on my lap and watched as he carefully placed the dishes in the sink and sprinkled the cleaning granules over them. He held the thrummer over each of them until they were clean.
“Thamuut tells me that you’d like me to have a look at a book you found,” GrandSir Khin turned his curious grey eyes to me. “A book with old scripts.”
The book resting on my knees suddenly felt heavy as my mind raced with so many questions. Fidgeting under his penetrating gaze, I pulled out the satchel and placed it on the table. I felt uneasy sharing my find with anyone else. Especially after the experience with my friends earlier in the day. Their doubts floated in my memory. My mother’s fear shook me more than anything. Then the advisor seeming more interested in what Xan’s last words were then looking for his murderers. Those definitely weren’t Enforcers stomping up the stairs in the dead of night to search Xan’s room. There was more to this book. I could feel it in my bones. There was more to a dying man’s wish. This book and the secrets it holds are important to a lot of people.
My fingers tapped the buckle as I weighed my options. If I didn’t get the stories translated, then there was nothing more I could do, and I would be letting down Xan Janal. I had to try something. I slipped the strap from the metal buckle, reached in, and slowly tugged the heavy tome from the bag. Placing it on the table between us, I looked up. Muut was standing behind his GrandSir, watching us carefully.
GrandSir Khin reached for the book, then stopped, his hand held just above it. Staring at the gold script crawled across the cover, he whispered, “Where did you find this book?”
Muut sat the last plate down on the counter and walked over to the table. Taking his seat, he looked at his GrandSir. “Do you know what it says?”
GrandSir Khin let his hand float down to the book where it rested over the title. His index finger moved over the first letter, caressing it. His milky grey eyes slid my way and he asked again, “Who gave it to you?”
“A friend. For safe keeping,” I told him. It wasn’t a lie exactly. I didn’t feel right lying to him, but I also didn’t want to tell him how I had taken it from a dead man’s room. Even if it was at his request.
Then he snatched his hand away and sat back. He looked at me, leaning in with his hawk nose sticking out accusingly. An intensity flared in his eyes burning away the cloudy film.
“Have you ever heard of the legend of the facet worlds?” he asked, staring at the illuminated golden script. When I stared blankly back, he continued, “I thought not. It’s not something you’ll learn in history class.” He shifted in his chair, “The story tells of worlds separated by a veil. Each one controlled by the overseers who created them. None of them aware of the other worlds that exist beyond the veils.”
“The edge of oblivion,” Muut whispered.
“Yes, that is what we call it,” he continued. “It’s said that it is impossible to cross the edge of oblivion. The border simply leads you along and you have no idea you’re near the edge. It just…continues…endlessly.”
“Then why is there a book with maps?” I was confused. The edge of oblivion was simply a tale to scare children into doing what our parents wanted. My mum used to tell me that if I didn’t stop wandering off, the Edge Seekers would find me and take me to their lair over the edge of oblivion.
“Over the years, there have been adventurers who sought fame and glory. Xan Janal was only the most recent,” he stopped and tilted his head as he peered at me with his stern gaze. “Most just disappeared. They would go off on a grand adventure and never return. Only a few did. And those who came back were filled with unbelievable tales of other worlds and people. They were said to be sun-drenched and laughed out of town. Most slowly drifted away succumbing to alualu juice and were quickly forgotten.”
“But Xan spun his tales into amazing stories of daring deeds in mysterious lands,” I said.
“Yes. Xan was different. When he told his stories everyone listened. I put it down to him being a master storyteller,” his hand drifted to the book. “But maybe…maybe there was something more to his stories.”
Muut and I both waited as he stared at the red cover, his finger tracing the gold filigree script.
“There was a tale of a book that held the maps to all the worlds. If Xan somehow found this book, perhaps…,” he drifted off into his thoughts, his grey eyes looking but not seeing the book.
“Perhaps he really did travel to those other worlds,” I finished for him.
“GrandS, can you tell us what the title of the book says?” Muut asked as he reached over and placed his hand on Khin’s forearm.
I reached over and began lifting the cover when his hand flashed out and slapped the cover down. He planted his hand over mine and held the book closed.
“It is called ‘The Book of Facets’,” he said, holding my hand and my gaze. “I can help you decipher this book, but are you prepared for what you’ll learn?”
I looked across at Muut. He nodded. “I must know if his stories were real. I need to know who Xan Janal really was.”
His hand relaxed as he turned to Muut, “Make us a cup of tea. This may take a while.”
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