Tales & Treasure Chapter 32

A Story Worth Telling

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Vatis watched Hobb and Vidmar measure each other like masons debating the best way to build a castle. They had gone back and forth for hours but hadn’t progressed far. Much to Vatis’s chagrin, no secrets had been revealed. Sure, he learned a little more about Vidmar, and yes, that would help with his current story, but no secrets.

He craved secrets. They were his trade, after all. Every story was a secret until it was written or performed, and nothing was more thrilling than revealing a shocking tale. 

Hobb stood and sighed. His chair screeched against the hardwood floor. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said, rolling his head shoulder to shoulder. His joints popped, and his cane tapped against the floorboards. “The boys will be back soon. We can pick this back up in the morning.”

Vidmar rubbed his eyes. “I’ve been searching for this damn crown for years. What’s another day?” Vatis was unsure if he was sarcastic. His voice sounded weary. 

Hobb groaned and disappeared into the kitchen. The farmhouse had a different feel than it had just a few weeks ago. It felt heavy, like a mist on a brisk morning. Nothing blatant had changed; everything still had its proper place. All the knickknacks, tools, mugs, and books were lined up perfectly on their corresponding shelves, precisely the same as they had been. What’s changed? Vatis thought, feeling his throat tighten. He needed to move; he needed to do something, go somewhere. Is it the tower?

“Do you need help in there, Hobb,” Vatis called, mustering as much enthusiasm as he could and hoping that preparing a meal could distract him from his meandering thoughts.

“No,” Hobb snorted over the clanging of pots and pans. The old farmer had been cold to him since they arrived.

Just tell Vidmar what you know, old man, Vatis thought. He didn’t want to stay another day; they needed to keep moving. Vidmar has to find the crown soon. I need his story for Barna. Also, the tower loomed large in his mind, casting a shadow over their meeting; if it called to him again, he didn’t know if he could resist.

Vatis started pacing, occasionally stopping to examine the spines of the books on the shelf next to the fireplace. One book caught his eye, Beyond the Kaharn Desert by Artgal Cairbre. How did I miss this before? Why would a farmer have a book about crossing an impassable desert? It’s a Cairbre – just facts and theories; this isn’t a bedtime story. His head felt light, searching for answers. Vatis slunk back to the table and sat down as Kamet approached Vidmar. 

“Are you sure he can help?” Kamet whispered. It was the first time the mercenary had spoken since they entered the farmhouse. “Something about him rubs me the wrong way.”

Vidmar didn’t look up. He just nodded and whispered. “He knows something.”

A few moments later, Mia, Taldor, and Ev strode onto the porch with a basket brimming with dark red cherries. The old dog followed lazily behind, distracted by a sudden itch near his tail. They seemed tense too. What happened to them? 

Vidmar seemed to notice as well. “Are you alright, Mia?” He asked as they entered.

She spat a cherry pit through the window onto the porch. Her lips were dyed a deep red like many of the noblewomen in Barna. “I’m fine,” she said, sitting in the chair next to Vidmar.

“Um, that’s Ev’s chair, Mia,” Taldor said

Ev laughed. “It’s fine, little brother. I’ll get a stool from the barn.”

“Check on the cow while you’re in there,” Hobb called from the kitchen. If Hobb heard that, did he hear Kamet and Vidmar? Vatis thought. Every new revelation about Hobb raised more questions.

Ev huffed, clicked his tongue, and stomped out the front door. 

The ripe cherries on the table looked delicious. “Can I have some of these, Taldor?” Vatis’s mouth watered in anticipation.

The young boy looked distracted as he watched his brother through the window. “What?” he asked.

“Can I have a cherry or two?” Vatis repeated.

“Oh, yes. Have as many as you want. Mia has eaten a whole tree’s worth already,” Taldor said, sliding the basket closer to Vatis.

Photo by Joanna Kosinska on Unsplash

He grabbed a maroon cherry with an emerald stem, popped it into his mouth, and bit. The flesh was crisp; the juice was sweet and not too tart. “Wow,” he said, grabbing a handful. “These are delicious.”

Kamet grabbed one, pulled the stem out, and spit the seed through the open window behind him. “Hmm, good. I like the bright red ones better. You know, the cherries that are more sour than sweet.”

“People tell me you’re a bit too sour,” Vidmar said. 

“Who?” Kamet said, biting through another cherry.

Vidmar started to speak. “If you say, my mother. I will shove cherries down your throat until you choke.” Vidmar winked at Taldor as the boy and Mia laughed.

Vatis ate his pile of cherries as he watched Mia and Taldor throw seeds at each other. Vidmar and Kamet talked in the corner, and the old black dog slobbered as it slept near the front door. Mia threw another pit at Taldor, but the boy ducked, and it struck an unsuspecting Ev as he returned with two short stools. 

“Hey,” he said. Vatis couldn’t tell if he was smiling or grimacing. 

“Sorry,” Mia said, twirling a finger through her hair. Her cheeks grew almost as red as the cherries. 

Ev picked the seed up and threw it at Taldor. It hit the boy in the middle of his forehead.

“Ouch,” Taldor said, rubbing the red spec that the cherry pit left behind. 

“If you're going to throw something at Taldor, make sure you hit him,” Ev said, tussling his brother’s brown hair. Taldor pushed Ev away. 

“Nobody is throwing anything else in my house,” Hobb said, emerging from the kitchen with a large ceramic plate full of dried meat, cheeses, and an assortment of vegetables, all neatly sliced into bite-sized pieces. “It’s time to eat.”

They ate in silence, aside from the chomping of teeth and the slurping of ale. To his credit, Taldor tried to break the increasingly uncomfortable quietness by asking Vidmar about his escape from Jegon, but Hobb stopped Vidmar before he could respond. “We can have a story after supper, but not that one.”

“Why?” Taldor asked with a mouthful of meat.

“Not that one.” And that was the end of the discussion. They finished in even deeper silence; drinks were quieter, teeth chewed softer, and even Ingi stopped whining for scraps. 

What felt like hours later, Taldor and Ev cleared the table while Mia disappeared to the outhouse. Again, Vatis, Vidmar, Kamet, and Hobb examined each other. Vatis felt outmatched in this game. He didn’t know what he was looking for; all Vatis saw was a mole he hadn’t noticed on Hobb’s cheek, Vidmar’s insistent itching of his missing fingers, and Kamet’s boar-like breathing. What do they see in me? 

“Done,” Taldor said excitedly. “Will you tell us a story tonight, Vatis?”

Darkness, anything to take a break from this game. “Why, of course. That is, if it’s alright with you, Hobb?”

Hobb grumbled something under his breath. “I said we could have a story.”

“You’re grouchy tonight, Pa,” Taldor said, sitting in his seat. 

Hobb scowled. “Never tell a man they're grouchy, boy. It only makes matters worse.”

“Especially when they are always grouchy,” Ev added from the stool that he had moved closer to the fireplace. 

Vatis thought he saw a hint of a smile underneath the old man’s beard, but it quickly evaporated with a dismissive grunt. “Well then,” Vatis started. “What story would you like to hear? A classic tale like Mia-The-Maiden, another story of Dabin, maybe a romance?”

“No, not a romance,” Taldor answered quickly, sticking his tongue out like he tasted something foul. 

Vatis laughed. “How about a story about Vidmar?” 

Taldor and Mia nodded excitedly, but Vidmar frowned. “I’d like to hear something else,” he said. Hobb grunted in agreement. 

“Fine, no Mia-The-Maiden, no Dabin, no romance, no Vidmar. Any suggestions?” Vatis asked. 

Mia shrugged. Ev held out his palms unknowingly. Taldor hummed and looked at the ceiling as if it might have an idea written up there. Hobb grumbled more softly than usual. “Tell us of the fall of Slavanes Greco,” he said, looking directly at Vidmar. 

Vatis scratched his chin. “That is a story I know, a formidable tale. Not many stories of Emre are more powerful, and powerful stories have consequences. Some who tell this are killed, some become heroes, and others are forgotten – a bard’s worst fate. I’ll start with a poem, and I hope it is received better than the last time I told it.” He nodded at Vidmar before he began.

The coronation of a crownless king
The subject’s obedience it did bring
A crown stolen from the unworthy
Taken by a martyr without curtsey

To a legend, the crownless king is bound
Only a Pact knows where it is found
‘tis a search thousands tried
In lonely homes, mothers cried
‘tis a search that all failed
In broken homes, widows wailed

A lone Pact knows where it has strayed
Such treasure cannot be remade
Rumors of ancient power reside 
In jewels of white the magic provide
A simple ornament that brought fire
A legend that toppled an empire

Is he a farmer with no crop
Is it affirmation or merely a prop
Is he king without a crown
His people have spoken. They won’t kneel down

Vidmar fiddled with his missing fingers, contrasting the thick fingers that scratched beneath Hobb’s chin. “That’s a dangerous poem,” the old man said, drinking from his mug. Mia and Taldor looked at each other, confused. 

“You have no idea,” Vatis said, avoiding eye contact with Vidmar. He exhaled. “I began that story with a poem because it’s challenging to convey the legend of Slavanes Greco in a single story. He’s the king who burned witches, the king who killed monsters, the king who destroyed magic, and the king who reigned both too long and too short. Greco has puzzled bards for centuries, but we have reached a consensus regarding his origin and downfall. Tonight, you will hear a tragic tale of the collapse and death of the most powerful man Emre has ever known.” 

“Pfft,” Kamet said into the bottom of his ale. It echoed like a trumpet in the small room. “Dinardo was the most powerful man in the history of Emre.”

Hobb cracked his neck when Kamet mentioned Dinardo. “Who’s that?” Taldor asked. 

“You don’t know about Dinardo and The Pact?” Mia said, uncurling her finger from her robin’s nest hair.

“The Pact sounds familiar,” Taldor said.

“It’s not real, is it?” Ev said, leaning closer.

Hobb has hidden The Pact from them. It looked as though Vidmar had the same thought as the treasure hunter eyed Hobb more thoroughly than before. 

“The Pact is real,” Vatis said, continuing his story. Hobb bit his upper lip, his crooked lower teeth sticking out like a boar, but he didn’t stop Vatis. “The Pact is real,” he repeated. “And they do play a part in this tale.” I’m sure Hobb knew that. So why would he suggest this story? Vatis took a drink and continued. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. No more interruptions, Kamet. This is a long story, and I cannot afford to get sidetracked.”