This is Chapter 8-3 of a serial fantasy novel.
“Lady Chillcrafter, I am pleased to introduce our Torchkeeper, Puresear Viktor Velessi,” said Kelron.
“The very same,” Viktor bowed xis head. “Raised near the mountains, been here in these parts since my scholarright. I’ll say, I’ve seen fewer Culdurians pass by than tall trees that tell you short tales.”
“Trees don’t talk!” said Zoey.
“Not many do, no,” said Viktor.
“You’ve a lovely town, with lovely envoys,” said June. She waited for Zoey-Lee’s giggles to subside before continuing. “I go by Junelight, or June, if you will. I felt your pyre go up some cycles ago and felt compelled to see if I might be of any assistance.”
“Yes. Call me Vik. We are fortunate to have you, it is good timing indeed. Please, come inside and we’ll talk.”
Xe sent Zoey-Lee and Kelron on their way, the former blasting off towards the north, waving and skipping, the latter calling after her and chuckling. It did seem like a quaint, friendly town.
Junelight followed the Torchkeeper inside. The sounds from outside dulled away and the scent of fresh speckwood dominated. She could also pick up an undercurrent of musky coals, and below that the mineral talc of stone, traced with damp and dust.
The temple had no ceiling. The tangle of planks formed the roof, the underside of the big bonfire structure bulging up and balancing to form a jagged dome. Errant spokes of sunlight managed to find their way in, and big, near-motionless dust motes hung in them like clouds of ripe seeds. There was a smaller stone cylinder nested within, identical to the outer ring as far as she could tell, minus any obvious door. The space between the two stone structures was barren, save the occasional wooden bench or flat topped-stone.
She felt the communal stone vibrating from within the inner cylinder. This close, the filament structure of the mindtether seemed like a single wobbling pillar of light in her mind, unless she wanted to spend the energy to discern the individual strands.
Vik stopped halfway to the inner wall, and said, “We had rooms and whatnot before. Wooden of course. The pyre hadn’t been lit for oh… twenty or more years? It doesn’t feel temporary after that long. Sure, we’d replace or reconstitute the speckwood every two or three years to keep it serviceable, but the rooms and things inside… some folks here had known them all their lives.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.
“Oh, no need to apologize. We all understood the purpose. It feels more like a fresh start, if I‘m being completely honest.”
“Everything else about town looks sound. I assume whatever threat you faced was deterred?”
Vik nodded slowly, and made xis way to a group of the flat stones. Several were scattered about, and he plopped down on one. June came over and sat as well, facing the Torchkeeper.
After a moment of looking upwards, perhaps watching the dust motes, Vik said, “I’m not sure how familiar you are with this forest and its inhabitants. I don’t want to assume.”
“I’ve been around for a few months now,” June said.
“Might I ask what brings a Chillcrafter all the way out from the sea?”
“You may. Have you heard of the Ghost Tide subsect?”
Vik sat straighter. “Only in academia. That’s the Chillcrafter intelligence branch, yes?”
“Correct.” She pulled back the top left lapel on her vest, revealing a tiny silver pin. Viktor leaned in, squinting at the sigil: a skull’s face embossed onto a waterdrop.
Xe leaned back, xis smile a little more guarded. “So while I may ask why you’re here, can you actually tell me?”
She let the lapel fall back and smiled back. “The assignment is not clandestine. Quite the opposite. I am looking for someone, someone who has been traced to this area of the Callipsus. Xe is called Plasivé, or Plasivé the Poacher. I sincerely doubt that xe’d be using that name however.”
“Hm. Some kind of criminal then?”
“Yes.”
“Dangerous?” said Vik, expression unwavering.
“Yes. But not likely to cause trouble… at least not while in hiding.”
“I see. What Sect is xe? I assume nothing Roythan, else agents from Pinedeck would have come first.”
“Correct again, although that particular piece of information is actually somewhat classified.”
“Somewhat?”
“Need to know basis. Though you strike me as rather intuitive, Viktor.”
Xe shrugged. “Dangerous criminal, not Roythan, with Culdur’s spooks chasing xem down. Either one of your own or someone with a Daxish scholarright. The name doesn’t sound Iskonn, so I’d wager you’re after a Massese Fissure... or a real life Soulcrafter.”
She pretended to be distracted by a nearby dust mote as he spoke, then said, “Have any other strangers passed through Wood Ribbon South lately? My target would most likely not be traveling alone. Likely with a child, maybe two.”
“Like a family?”
“Nothing like a family.” She kept her voice level.
“Hm. I don’t think any groups have passed through that we didn’t recognize as local. A few independent traders, on occasion, of course. Most via transport… some on foot. I talk to some of them but not all of them—you’ll have better luck asking about at the community or feasting halls. Frankly, I’ve been much more concerned with protecting our woodlots and borders of late.”
“Ah yes, forgive me for sidetracking. Tell me about the pyre.”
Viktor waved away her apology. “No no, it’s fine… but yes, we called on the Torch last week. I asked if you were familiar with these parts because our security matter concerns the non-aspectral triads that roam the wilderness.”
“Falsesparkers.”
“I don’t like the phrase,” said Vik, “but yes, that’s the popular term. There are said to be hundreds of thousands of them spread out through the Callipsus. They bunch up in triadic groups. Most of the time, and in the past, they leave Roythans alone and we leave them alone. There’s more than enough wood to go around, you know? But every now and then you’ll get an ambitious bunch that want to swipe some furniture, or basic tools, sometimes they raid food stores in the more remote villages…”
“Do you have food stores here?”
“Small ones. Just as a precaution. The non-aspectrals haven't bothered us for quite some time, though some of our neighbouring Torchkeepers in the south have reported irksome activity of late.”
“I see. Go on.”
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