Chapter Seven: Space for a Soul

Keeper of the Shade

Derian woke in a chair, wearing baggy clothes over armor, holding a short pipe and a fork in his mouth. He was at a large table, in a kitchen that was as large as the rectory he had been weaned in. A large woman, who could have been the twin of the Lord Sayn, protector of the Hopeless Marsh and the Western Fields of New Delm Province, moved in the room, fussing over steaming pots and hot cookfires. Derian’s teeth pulled the meat from the fork’s prongs. He felt the metal scratch his teeth. He could taste as his mouth chewed. He felt hair beneath the helmet, and a beard growing on his chin. He looked the other way. Cathrine sat next to him, dressed in a long-sleeved black floral gown. Her eyes were wide and ringed in dark circles. She wore makeup of black charcoal.

“- and next time you want beavertail soup you let me know two days ahead of time, master Shamath.”

“Yes, Maurice,” Derian’s mouth moved and spoke beneath him. He curled his eyebrows. Cathrine’s eyes widened.

“Mind if we have some privacy, Maurice?” Cathrine asked. Her voice sounded deeper and harsher than Derian remembered it.

“If you take it to the tea porch. I cannot let the simmer stop or you’ll be eating rubber tail.”

“Dear,” Derian’s body said, standing. He took and moved the chair that Cathrine sat in. Her body stood, drank from a pewter goblet, and wiped her lips on her sleeve. The two moved like fantoms from the kitchen, and out onto a terrace framed by sheer curtains.

The porch was small and floored in stone. After they stepped through, Cathrine’s body moved to shut the curtains. There was a small staircase that rose to the floor above. They overlooked a small town in the distance, and the mountains beyond. There was a small table and two thin iron chairs painted white. One of the monk’s beads was on the table, a small trinket beside a vase of flowers.

Cathrine and Derian’s bodies sat down, and faced out at the mountains.

“They have awoken,” the woman said.

“Pity. I thought we’d have more than a few weeks to play with our new bodies.”

Derian tightened a fist. The hand trembled.

“They are uneasy.”

“They always are, darling.”

“This is my first incarnation, Shamath.”

“It is nothing to be afraid of, sweet Farhide. We will work out a pact, and they will have to honor it.”

“Humans are not trustworthy, god of my bed.”

“They are when their lives hang in the balance. Watch. Boy, whose body I inhabit, can you hear me? I will give you your voice to answer.”

“-you scoundrel, how can you be called a go-”

“See? They are here and are listening.”

“Creepy,” Farhide whispered. “I’ll see what the girl has to say-”

Cathrine screamed.

“Such fun,” the devil wife smiled with Cathrine’s thin lips.

Maurice came out carrying a tray of cucumber sandwiches and tea. She poured two cups and then turned and left the porch.

The two ate ravenously and drank the tea with such vigor that it poured down their chins.

“There is something to this world and its fruits,” Farhide said. “I envy your place in the up but I cannot imagine that sweet honeyed nectar could taste as full as these simple treats.”

“You are mistaken. Our honeyed nectar tastes of perfection and has no comparison aside from your lips, my devil. I enjoy these snacks for the contrary. The roughness of the bread. The vegetative quality of the fruit. The slightly uneven slices. The heat of the tea that scalds the mouth. These experiences are for the land between alone.”

They sat and looked out at the view.

“I do not wish to return,” he said at once, together.

“We must form a pact then,” Shamath said. “Otherwise, control will be taken from us. Already I feel the tinging in my mouth when the boy tries to speak.”

“What do you propose?”

Shamath picked up a crumb of bread and rolled it into a ball between his fingers. He placed it on his tongue and swallowed.

“The standard deal, a wish for succession. Anything they want. And we keep the bodies for the rest of their natural span.”

“Which is how long?”

“Sixty years from now, arounds.”

“Only sixty years?”

“If we lay the groundwork right, dear lover, we’ll have new hosts to inhabit when our time runs short.”

“What if they ask for their bodies back?”

“That we cannot do. If they’d want other bodies, that is something that we could arrange.”

“Shall we let them talk?”

“Let us see. Boy, girl, listen. We will give you your bodies to talk. You have heard my terms. Anything you wish, besides the return of your flesh.”

“Do it now?”

“Now,” Shamath said. He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes.

Derian squeezed his fists and lifted his head. He looked over at Cathrine, who was squeezing her eyes shut.

“Wake me from this dream,” she whispered.

“If this is a dream,” Derian said, “then I’d call it a nightmare. But I do not think it is so.”

“Have you heard of incarnation?”

“It is a motif in temple stories. Nearly every god and devil has come to this world in some form. Usually to save a people, or to drag more people into the down. King Athgard was said to have been an incarnation of Asgar, Queen Rellux an incarnation of Methru. His pact is standard. I’ve heard of some lesser demons wavering on it, allowing some humans to take control in the day and forfeit their nights to the parasite. Yet, I did believe these only to be stories, things to justify strange and glorious behaviors.”

“Why make a pact? They said they were going to lose control-”

“It is not only them who would lose control. We would have our bodies for a moment without them, and then dissolve into madness. Things have been stretched to fit a god and devil’s spirits, and will not return to support ours.”

“So, no matter what we are dead?”

“We can call for another body, as Shamath has claimed. We could request to become spirits, or to be welcomed into the up. We could be horses, or fish if we desired. There was a man in the mountains hundreds of years ago, who, it is said, became a rock.”

Cathrine buried her face in her hands.

“How did I ever fall into this?” she mumbled. “I met a monk on the road and he asked me to guide you to the stairs. He paid me in silver. The only thing emptier than my purse is my brain, it seems.”

“You were not honest to me in the town?”

“No, and I haven’t been honest for a long while. My name is not Cathrine and I knew nothing of that hog pen they called a village.”

“What is it you would want from your deviless?”

“I wouldn’t mind a new body. I’ve always been jealous of my sister’s height and beauty. She’s younger, but has had more proposals in one year than I could ever hope to have.”

“Her spirit would turn to a haunt. She’d follow her body around, until a monk came by and cleansed you.”

“There’s more than one temple in our city. It would not take long. What about you, monk? Do you wish to be a rock? A tree? A beetle perhaps?”

“There is no good death for a rock. A tree might be nice. But a beetle would die with the cold. No- none of those are for me.” Derian reached over and felt the orb sitting on the table. He ran his fingers over the surface.

“It is not monkish, perhaps it is even monkeyish. But I can’t get Master Rez out of my head.” Spittle flew from the small monk’s mouth. He rolled the orb over his leg. He lifted the bead, and slammed it down on his leg. It broke open. Oil and dust ran down to his foot.

“You want him dead,” the woman said, holding a hand to her throat. Her eyes grew even wider. Derian’s hand rubbed the oil through the flowy pant material that covered the armor bound to his leg. He reached under the waistband and felt the oil on the metal. He felt the spirit of Shamath rushing to claim control.

“I…shalla shalook-”

The armor came to life in the rock cavern where it had lain dormant for centuries. There was a body beneath it, the body of a monk called Derian.

The armor came to life in the rock cavern where it had lain dormant for centuries. There was a body beneath it, the body of a monk called Derian.

The armor came to life in the rock cavern where it had lain dormant for centuries. There was a body beneath it, the body of a monk called Derian.

The armor came to life in the rock cavern where it had lain dormant for centuries. There was a person within it, the body of a monk called Derian.

The armor came to life in the rock cavern where it had lain formant for centuries. There was a person within it, the body of a monk called Derian.

…