Patricia Wilson
Stories
10
Chapters
3,347
Words
163.4 K
Comments
0
Reading
13 h, 37 m
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Merkovah stood in the empty concrete room. A cluster of straw dummies was in a corner, but that was about it. “Let’s get started!” His voice echoed off the walls. “Etenesh, Jember, you are responsible for drawing up the ritual circles. We are going to start with-” He began rattling off a string of words that sounded like a coughing fit in the middle of a sea shanty, none of which Truth knew. Etenesh and Jember seemed to have no problems understanding it, however. “You are a bit lucky.…-
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Truth felt the spell fill his second aperture and almost groaned in pleasure. He hadn’t realized how Truth nearly did a spit take, which would have been a neat trick since he wasn’t drinking anything. He very carefully didn’t look over at Etenesh and Jember, reading next to him. Truth had the uncomfortable sense that the System was laughing at him. Truth felt the aperture empty and fill again. It did raise an unpleasant question- could he stop the System from forcibly swapping his spells around?…
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There was a notable increase in people fiddling discreetly with charms at the table, but fewer people slipped away than the Head seemed to expect. Pleased, he suggested an extra round of Truth’s new body could pick apart smells with incredible accuracy, but he needed something to compare things to. “Fruit” didn’t explain much. The smell was warm, with He didn’t really need to try The flan was another puzzle but a more welcome one. The servants brought in trollies loaded with covered trays.…
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Their little convoy reformed quickly, Merkovah feeling that a mere hundred and five kilometers were far too close to the cursed city of Moyale. He was determined to make it to the sanctuary of the campus at Bule, another two hundred kilometers down the road. Bule was also a little too close to Moyale for comfort. Still, Merkovah assured everyone that they would be safe from “The moral and spiritual contagion which breeds and festers within that midden of depravity.” Truth tried to remember which part…
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Jember and Etenesh had set themselves a little densely warded ritual circle to operate from. A triple ring, lodged inside a series of increasingly complex forms, rose in sheets of white light around Truth and Merkovah. The old monster in disguise looked bored. His weapon of choice was once again the thumb ring. Truth was enjoying swinging the sword around and listening to it thrum. “Ready, Teacher?” Etenesh yelled. “Ready. Lift it.” Merkovah waved his hand to move them along. The cousins started…
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Moyle dropped away behind their two-vehicle convoy with startling speed. Suburb-suburb-suburb-strip malls-farms. Sudden spike of loathing, then nothing once again, as the farms vanished. Like some solar demon had traced a sharp line around the outer edge of the city and said… well, probably nothing with intelligible words, but its meaning would be quite clear. Once they got into the farm belt, Merkovah pulled over and glared at the city. He ceremoniously spat once, hopped back in his carriage, and…
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The game was fun, if incomprehensible. There were layers to the strategy that Truth just wasn’t getting, but that was ok. The cousins were half the entertainment by themselves. Jember was willing to cheer just about anything that looked dramatic. Etenesh was intense and focused. She was like a spring, winding tighter and tighter until she exploded with boos or shouts of triumph. Truth just cheered randomly and laughed at the silly faces and thrusting hips. It was… fun. He couldn’t think of a single…
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“Tommy Wells, meet Jember,” Merkovah nodded at the sunny man, “And Etenesh, his cousin.” Truth waved at them and smiled. They smiled back, looking a little overwhelmed. No idea what that was about. “Young man…” Truth just looked at him. “Betrayals all around. Everyone in. Dinner time, then we have to make a bed for Tommy.” Merkovah didn’t quite hide his eye roll when he said, “Tommy.” They piled into the house and started throwing together a salad. Truth could not be said to be a…
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The ghostly serpent shattered in Truth’s grasp, dispersing as wisps of grey gas under the brilliant tropical sun. Widow Yettran gasped and rattled on the ground, shivering like she had a fever. Her color was improving. The disgusting mottling was fading away. The green had already vanished. Truth looked around awkwardly. He had destroyed the spirit’s corporeal body, but the spirit was very much alive and around somewhere. Being able to make a talisman that kept ghosts and evil spirits away suddenly…
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Merkovah thought his office looked like some kind of conspiracy nutjob’s “special” wall. There were little scraps of paper laid out on the floor, different books had been positioned carefully at different heights and angles to the paper, and while it was probably a coincidence, the sunlight streaming through the window seemed to catch just enough of the back of his chair to form an illuminated rune on the ground. Which rune was debatable. “So you’ve been busy,” Said Merkovah. Truth looked…
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