Eight 2: Chapter 10

It was early in the evening, and the lodge bustled with activity. Groups of hunters chatted as they cared for their weapons and tools. The murmur of conversation was punctuated by the twang of bowstrings from the courtyard behind the lodge. The place smelled of oil, iron, blood, and entrails.

Two of the butchering tables were occupied. On one, a deer was getting skinned. On the other, three badgers had been laid out, their fur streaked orange and red like the paint job on an old hot rod with flames coursing down the car’s body.

Nearby, two hunters applied salves and bandages to the burns on a third’s arms. Inneioleia stood behind the injured man, a hand on his back, and I could sense the tickle of qi moving between them.

Borba, the ordinary hunter I’d trained with that morning, spotted my arrival and waved me over. He had me listen in on his team’s plans for the following day. They hadn’t had any luck hunting today and were hoping the elk territories would be more productive.

When the shop talk was done, they switched to gossip. Of course, the big news was about the events at Fort Sugar Shack, and Borba’s team pressed me for the details. They had the bare bones of the story already, but somehow a flock of cutter hawks had gotten added into it.

According to the hunters, the small birds could strip a man to his bones in minutes, and they were impossible to fight off. The only viable responses were to hide, run, or cast area-of-effect magic. Fortunately, there wasn’t any evidence of cutter hawks near Fort Sugar Shack, so I let the hunters know that the rumor was unfounded.

I also asked about Bindeise’s reputation in town. It was Borba who responded.

“He was always a sour man. How he could make such sweet things was always a mystery. His only love was for his family, and when they died, his heart died with them.”

I was on the hunt for a motive, so I had to ask the obvious question: “Did he have any enemies or anyone he argued with before he was murdered?”

“No one saw him enough for that,” Borba said. “He hid himself away most of the year and only came to the village to sell his maple sugar.”

“The sugar’s so expensive,” I said. “He must’ve been wealthy.”

Borba laughed. “Of course! And yet he was such a miser! He hoarded his taak, and never came to the lodge to buy meat or hides.”

“Then if someone was hungry for his wealth?” I asked.

“Their stomach would stay empty,” Borba said. “Bindeise lived in the forest—think of all the places for him to hide his fortune. No one in Voorhei would be so foolish as to try to rob him.”

“What about bandits, then?” I asked. “Or someone from outside of Voorhei?”

“You really are a Little Pot of Questions, aren’t you?” Borba said, laughing.

His team laughed with him. My hair got ruffled, and someone handed me a strip of salty-sweet jerky. The meat was incredibly tough, but surprisingly delicious. I sucked on it like a jawbreaker.

Borba grinned at seeing me indulged. “To answer your question, Little Pot—a bandit wouldn’t care about hiding the tracks of their crime. They would kill, plunder, and move on.”

That’s right. There’s another body, one the murderer took pains to disguise. “Do you think the other body belongs to Grunthen?”

“I can’t imagine it,” Borba said. “Grunthen was many things, but weak wasn’t one of them. None of the element-touched are.”

Our conversation was interrupted when all the apprentices were called to the butchering table. The hunters wanted to show us the badgers’ interiors.

The carcasses looked ordinary without their fur, but the hunters pointed to the thickened bones, the sharper-than-expected claws, and the unusual sac in the chest cavities. They gently pried the sacs loose and set each within their own metal lockbox.

Borba came up beside me to whisper that each fire badger sac was worth between two and four eltaak. The oil inside was apparently a useful alchemical ingredient. As a demonstration, a hunter set a lit rush against a single drop of the oil, and it burst into flame. The hunter explained that the fire badgers used mana-magic to cast a flamethrower-like spell, and the oil not only enhanced the spell but also caused the fire to stick to its prey.

Borba appeared quite envious of the other hunters’ haul. The fire badgers could easily sell for half an antaak each. On top of the valuable oil sac, the fur was thick and luxurious, the meat was delicious, and a broth made from the bones supposedly helped a man’s virility.

I was deeply curious to see if I could find a spell rune inside the fire badgers’ carcasses, but when I asked about buying the meat and bones, I was told that they’d already been claimed.

The show over, the apprentices drifted back to what they’d been doing before. I was hanging out with Borba’s crew again, when Mumu tapped me on the shoulder.

“Hello, Little Pot. I see you are asking more questions. Did these scoundrels at least show you the badgers’ fire oil first?”

“They did, thank you. I’ll be sure to avoid getting sprayed if I ever find one.”

“Good, good. You are such a clever pot. Most apprentices only think of the taak, so they don’t learn to fear the fire until after they’ve been burned.” Mumu nodded to Borba’s crew, and they made space for her to join them. “Now, let me guess. You are talking about Bindeise the Sugar Maker.”

The hunters laughed, not at all embarrassed to be caught gossiping. If anything, they were anxious to hear Mumu’s opinion on the matter.

“He was robbed,” she said. “With his fortune, what else could it be?”

“But what about the other body?” I asked. “If it was Grunthen—”

“It was an accomplice,” Mumu said, “but the thief decided they no longer wanted to share the treasure, and so they killed them too.”

“But why use cleansing fire, then?” Borba asked.

Mumu chuckled. “What? I have to answer you too? Isn’t one Little Pot of Questions enough?” She shook her head, smiling. “Truthfully, I don’t know why the murderer used cleansing fire. Perhaps the accomplice was someone known. Our Eight thinks it was Grunthen. Does anyone know if he needed taak?”

“None of the element-touched are in want of taak,” a hunter said, grumbling.

“A truth if there ever was one,” Borba said.

A dreamy look came over Mumu’s face. “If only I were one too.”

Borba sputtered in laughter. “You? You are Scout Born already. If you were element-touched, the heavens would curse you for your good fortune. Our Inneioleia could finally retire as lodge master.”

“What are you saying?” Mumu said, protesting. “A lodge master should be old and gray and laden with wisdom. I am still young, with many bountiful years ahead of me.”

Unbeknownst to her, Inneioleia had finished with the injured hunter and came up behind her. “Really now, am I so feeble that my spear shakes? Can I no longer hunt?”

Mumu froze, and her face scrunched up in dismay. “Master, we were just joking around—”

Inneioleia’s face was stern. One had to look closely to see the amusement deep within his eyes. “Take up your spear, Mumu. Let us see how far you have traveled on your path.”

The whole lodge went quiet, but there were smiles on every face—except for Mumu’s. She glared at the other hunters as she picked up her spear to follow the lodge master outside. The rest of us piled after her.

We gathered in a circle around the two hunters. Bets were being placed right and left. They all expected Inneioleia to win—the only question was how long Mumu would last.

versus

I’d gotten to know the lodge master enough for Talent Scout to identify a nascent talent. Tricksy, huh? Yeah, that’s accurate. When we were sparring, his spear was never quite where I thought it would be. It’s going to be interesting to see how Mumu deals with him.

The two hunters stood opposite each other on the hard-packed earth. Mumu carried her spear in two hands and waited for Inneioleia to attach his shield prosthetic. Her earlier dismay had disappeared and was replaced by an intense focus. I could almost feel the sharpness of her intent.

When Inneioleia nodded to show he was ready, Mumu vanished. All that was left was a puff of dust where her feet had been. I threw qi and mana into my eyes, but barely caught a glimpse of her dashing straight at the lodge master. Qi spun to pierce through his defense, but the attack was harmlessly deflected away by Inneioleia’s shield, only for Mumu to launch an attack from the side in the next moment.

The first attack had been a mirage—she’d flickered to the left before it landed and sent the qi on without her. The real strike came, but again Inneioleia deflected it, this time with a subtle gesture of his spear. Her spear knocked out of line, Mumu vanished before Inneioleia could counterattack.

“That’s one,” Borba whispered.

I caught sight of Mumu behind Inneioleia. Dust billowed across the ground—she must’ve rolled into position. Her spear rose as if from the earth to thrust low. She didn’t use Spiral Pierce, so there was nothing to signal an attack was coming, but Inneioleia still responded—he leapt into the air, turning the jump into a somersault and the somersault into an attack with his spear pointed at Mumu’s back. Her thrust foiled, she extended the movement into a forward roll, her spear tucked close.

“Two,” Borba said.

It took a breath for the hunters to reposition, and then Mumu was gone again. This time, I spotted her blending with the land, her body in dynamic motion and her hair undulating like the wind. My eyes wanted to slide past, but I willed them to stick.

The butt of her spear rose to knock Inneioleia’s spear aside, but the lodge master was already moving, stepping into her range. His shield pushed her spear aside, and his leg rose in a stomp kick. With an incredible contortion, Mumu twisted to the side.

“Three,” Borba said, excited.

But Mumu was mid-step, her spear out of position, while Inneioleia was close, within arm’s reach. It was perfect positioning for his one-handed grip, and he jabbed his spear into her torso.

“Ah, well,” Borba said, disappointed. “Three is the direction of five, as the saying goes. Our Mumu’s skill will only get better with time.”

All around us, the hunters groaned or cheered depending on how they’d gambled. The dust settled, and Mumu rubbed her side where Inneioleia had jabbed her.

“You didn’t have to hit so hard.”

“And would you remember if I didn’t? How many times have I had to tell you—yes, you are fast and agile, but the closer you are to your prey, the smaller those advantages become. Distance. You must master distance, so you can naturally find and hold the space that lets you use your most powerful attacks against your prey, while limiting your prey’s most powerful attacks against you.”

“Yes, master,” Mumu said, admonished.

“And so you have all seen,” Inneioleia said to the gathered hunters, “that our Mumu has yet again failed to fulfill her promise to replace me. According to the terms of our bet, we are all free to call her Little Mumu for the next ten days.”

Mumu gritted her teeth but didn’t gainsay the lodge master.

“Don’t worry, Little Mumu,” a hunter said. “You’ll do better next time.”

“Three was an excellent showing, Little Mumu.”

“Our Little Mumu is growing so fast. One day, she’ll last ten rounds for sure.”

With a growl, Mumu left the scene. “You are all children!”

Borba clapped me on the shoulder and turned me to face him. “Little Eight, whatever you do in your life, heed this advice well: never let the lodge master overhear you promising that you will one day overcome him. And never ever make a bet with him about it.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. It doesn’t look like Mumu was upset, though. More annoyed than anything. And the spar appeared to have been helpful to her and the other hunters. I certainly found it educational. The way they both moved—that was amazing.

At the lodge’s front door, I saw Haol consoling Mumu. He’d just arrived, and she was explaining what had happened. When she started to narrate the events of the fight, I dashed over to listen.

They noted my arrival, but other than a friendly ruffle of my hair from Haol, their conversation continued without pause. If anything, Mumu went into greater detail for my benefit, explaining her thinking at each step.

Well, at the speed at which they’d fought, there was very little room for thinking. It was more an amalgamation of action, instinct, and training. Still, it was interesting to hear her perspective.

She’d used Dog’s Agility, Spiral Pierce, and her innate hiding ability. As for Inneioleia, he’d only used Dog’s Agility to keep up with her speed. The rest was skill, talent, and experience.

“Could you force your way past his shield?” I asked. “It was your two hands against his one.”

Haol shook his head. “He didn’t use it this time, but the lodge master also has Bear’s Strength.”

Mumu scowled. “He can use Bear’s Strength, Dog’s Agility, Iron Heart, Spiral Pierce, Nature’s Spring, and Body Burner.”

“I don’t know Body Burner,” I said.

“It’s an advanced qi spell that drains the body,” Haol said. “The effects, though, are debilitating—permanently so. The spell is a last resort.”

“A handful of the older hunters have it,” Mumu said. “They’re known as the Last Line.”

“Oh,” I said.

From the way she’d said ‘Last Line,’ there was a weight and responsibility attached to the name, and a certain desperation too.

Mumu turned somber. “Maybe I should join the Knight Ithia’s soldiers after all. My spear is too weak. If I go and return with my skills improved, the lodge would benefit.”

Haol didn’t seem surprised by her idea. Instead he gazed at her thoughtfully. “A person chooses their own path—that is the way—but there are other options to grow your spear. Not all require you to leave Voorhei.”

“You just don’t want me to go,” Mumu said.

“That’s true,” Haol said. “But Dena and I would wait for you if necessary. You know that. No, I am thinking about what’s best for your spear. The way soldiers fight is different from the way hunters fight.”

“But where else would I find a spear stronger than Inneioleia’s? He’s a Spear Friend, for heaven’s sake.”

Haol’s gaze deepened. He waited patiently for the point to land on its own.

When it did, Mumu punched him on the shoulder. “I hate when you are like this. Yes, yes, I understand. If Inneioleia is the best teacher, then it’s simply a matter of the student training harder.”

“So what will you do?” Haol asked, clearly suppressing a smile.

“Stay,” Mumu said. “For now. Until some smug excuse of a hunter angers me into joining the land soldiers.”

“Then let us hope that never happens,” Haol said.

“It’s inevitable,” Mumu said, shaking her head in mock sadness. “For some, they cannot help it—a critical failure of their character.”

“And yet there are still those who love them,” Haol said.

“Which I will never understand,” Mumu said. “Dena is far too good for you.”

“Speaking of,” Haol said. “Will you join us for dinner tonight? She has a gift for you.”

“A gift, you say.” Mumu made a show of thinking about it. “If it’s from Dena, then I will accept.”

The two of them were so lost in their flirting that they’d completely forgotten about me. They left me standing there without a word.

I went back to sit with Borba’s crew. “Who’s Dena?”

“Denela. You met her at your initiation. She’s Haol’s wife.” Borba grinned. “The two of them are courting our Little Mumu.”

“And doing well, from the looks of things,” a hunter said.

“I bet they’ll marry in the fall,” another said. “Within fifteen weeks.”

“I’ll take that bet for two taak,” a hunter said.

“As will I,” another replied. “Mumu and Haol are patient hunters. They’ll wait until they’re ready, which to my mind means at least seventeen weeks.”

The hunters clamored and argued, their gossip having shifted to the love lives of Mumu and Haol.

“Seems to me,” Borba said, “that we have a member of Mumu’s team here with us. What do you think, Eight? When will they marry?”

As if I was supposed to know. But, well, if I had to guess… there was a tingling, a nudge from a skill called Relationships. There was affection in Mumu’s eyes, but also determination.

“She won’t marry this year. Not yet. Our Little Mumu has something to prove.”

The hunters had roared with laughter when I called her ‘Our Little Mumu,’ but otherwise they seemed to ignore my prediction. I was just a child, after all.

I stuck around the lodge until the light started to slant through the open door. Slowly, the hunters departed until only Inneioleia and I were left. The quiet was a marked contrast to the boisterous chatter from earlier. The only sound came from the scribbling of Inneioleia’s quill. He sat at his desk, tallying the day’s results.

His back was straight, but he paused often. When I came around to ask him the questions I’d been saving up, I saw that he was rubbing his eyes. He looked tired; his straight spine masked shoulders that slumped slightly forward.

He picked up his quill to continue writing in the lodge’s ledger. Without looking my way, he said, “So what questions does our Little Pot have for me?”

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to ask? It’s been a long day.”

“For both of us,” Inneioleia said, “and yet here you are, ready to learn. Isn’t it my responsibility to teach?”

“Not at the cost of your health,” I said.

Inneioleia turned to look at me. “You are such a strange child. It is as if the forest gave you wisdom, when for any other person, it would take their life. It makes an old hunter wonder.” He started writing again. “The sooner your questions are answered, the sooner we can both retire for the night.”

I hesitated, but decided to keep him company, at least until he was done with the ledger. A few questions while he works shouldn’t hurt.

“I was wondering about Grunthen,” I said. “I asked around, and… he wasn’t very well liked, was he?”

Inneioleia paused to sigh. “Neither was Woldec. It comes from being element-touched, you see.”

“People were jealous?”

“Some, yes, but—” Inneioleia paused to consider his answer. “The element-touched are born with a talent for power. They start farther along the Path to Perfection than the rest of us, so they grow up believing in their superiority. Do you know that word? They think their teeth are strong enough to chew rocks.” Inneioleia shook his head. “And often enough it is true, especially if the talent is passed down from generation to generation.”

Inneioleia gestured outside the lodge, then continued: “Voorhei’s walls were made so tall because we had an Earth-Touched family. The tunnels under our pyramid are so extensive for the same reason.”

“Just to be clear, it was Woldec’s family who did this work?”

“Yes, over many generations, but now there is no one with the talent left.”

“What about his brother Ghitha?”

“Ghitha is the last of their line and cannot sire children. He has tried many times and spent many taak to no avail.”

“And Grunthen?”

“He was the first of his family to be Lightning-Touched. They were the poorest of the poor and suddenly became wealthy. Now, they are somewhere in between, at least until he returns.”

I tried to assemble everything I’d heard into a portrait of the two men. “So Woldec and Grunthen threw their weight around.”

Inneioleia snorted. “What an interesting expression. Yes, the two knew the village depended on them.” A bitter smile crossed his face. “I cannot tell you the number of times Ghitha argued that his brother should be the lodge master. In his eyes, Woldec was the answer to all problems.”

“Did Grunthen feel the same way?”

“Grunthen only thought about Grunthen. In truth, he cared for two things: taak and the admiration of others. As his power grew, his character shrank.” Inneioleia shook his head sadly. “I failed him as a teacher.”

“But I heard that he didn’t want for money.”

“Taak flowed to Grunthen like water, and he let it flow away just as easily, spending it as if it was endless. And perhaps for him it was. With lightning in his hands, he could safely hunt almost any beast in the forest.”

“But not the kalihchi bear.”

“No, not the King of the Forest.” Inneioleia looked down with regret at his missing left hand. “The hunts for that one have all ended in failure. But Woldec and Grunthen believed that their power made them clever. They must’ve thought they could sneak past while he slept. Although for what reason they risked it, only the heavens know.”

“So you think Grunthen died to the bear, and that it wasn’t his body we found at Bindeise’s house.”

“Let me ask you a question, Little Pot. Why would he be there?”

“You said he spent money like water. Bindeise had a lot of it hidden away.”

“And however much that was, Woldec offered more to join his venture. Grunthen never said how much, but many of us heard his bragging—saying how he was rich and about to become even richer. He even pledged to purchase property in Albei and turn his family from farmers into merchants.” Inneioleia stroked his beard, considering. “No, Grunthen was a weak man, but no murderer. He was greedy, yet not a thief.”

I felt like I had the edges of a motive, but it kept slipping from my hands. “You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

“Such is my purpose—to teach and show the path.” Inneioleia put down his quill and blotted the ledger’s pages before closing the book. “And now I am done, so it is time for us both to rest.”

“Thank you, master. Good night.”

“Good night, our Eight. Be sure to come at dawn for your next round of training.”

That night, as had become my habit, I lay in bed reflecting on the day. I was bone tired, though, and my thoughts wandered higgledy-piggledy. It was hard to focus, but I held on to wakefulness anyway.

I was uneasy about Bindeise’s ghost visiting again. At the same time, I found myself hoping he would. He’d be unable to talk thanks to Tenna’s Gift, but I figured I could at least get confirmation that it was Grunthen who’d been killed at his house.

Bindeise didn’t show up. Instead, the uekisheile occupied my thoughts. Dog’s Agility-was-cool. It-was-whoosh whoosh-whoosh-whoosh.

I had some lingering guilt from our spat yesterday, but it didn’t seem to affect them. Both Inneioleia and Mumu were skilled, I thought.

We-sensed-Mumu vigorous-fast-bendy. Inneioleia-was-tough subtle-qi-subtle. We-want-go inside-them-sense qi-flow-qi.

But—

A flicker of annoyance rippled through the uekisheile. We-understand-danger. Ollie/Eight-taught-us importance-remaining-hidden. Ollie/Eight-taught-us moderate-desire-action. Trust-our-learning.

Sorry, I’m a natural worrier. It’s what made me a good film producer.

We-wish-we could-see-film would-like-watch.

The closest things we have to them are Ikfael’s water stories.

A breath of qi sighed out of the uekisheile. We-cannot-sense mana-yet-mana.

Keep trying, little buddy. It’s just a matter of time and practice.

I swear I felt a sly impulse. Yes-practice-yes. Practice-is-good important-important-important. Speaking-of-practice we-should-study Mumu-Inneioleia-fight. Tonight-give-permission?

Yes, I thought, and that was the last thing I remembered from that night.