Tales & Treasure Chapter 5

Vatis - An Opportunity

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Frost crystallized on the window in Vatis’s room, covering the glass in intricate patterns; labored breath escaped his mouth and condensed in the air. Golden sun rays fought through the frost, warming the tips of his toes. The slight temperature change was all Vatis needed to realize he had slept too late. He wanted to leave before dawn, but he couldn’t fall asleep.

All Vatis could think about was Vidmar. At first, he was terrified, that razor-sharp gaze, the hilts of daggers jutting out from his belt, the scar on his lip that cut into his beard. That man has a story. Now, he wanted nothing more than to find Vidmar and follow him. He didn’t care where Vidmar went; all Vatis knew was that he needed Vidmar’s story. Why would he ask about the lost crown? That was the question that kept him up all night. Why?

The frigid temperature stiffened his rigid joints, making it nearly impossible to get out of bed. Finally, after some effort, he was able to sit up. Vatis recoiled as his bare feet hit the hard, frozen floor. He dressed, relishing the warmth his shoes and socks offered; a brief needle-like pain was a welcomed guest that arrived slightly before a cozy heat enveloped his feet and lazily brought life back to his extremities. 

Vatis walked down the stairs into the common room. Rane stood on a chair, mending a leak in the ceiling; a drop escaped through the bartender’s fingers into a barrel.

“Good morning, Rane,” Vatis said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

“Ah, good morning, Vatis. How did you sleep?” Rane asked as he briefly looked away from his task.

“Fine, thank you,” Vatis said, ignoring his temptations to whine about the room size, the drafty window, and the leaky roof. Vatis-of-the-Road was not much of a complainer. I need to find Vidmar; maybe Rane knows him. “Say, do you know a man named Vidmar? Does he live around here?” Vatis asked, acting as casually as possible.

Water squirted through the Rane’s fingers. His eyes widened as he turned his attention to Vatis. “What did he do? I told him not to scare you. Dammit, Vidmar.”

“No, no, he was fine, truly,” Vatis said. He does terrify me. “He just asked me a few questions. I thought of the answer to one of them this morning. Is he from Basswood?”

Rane returned his gaze to the leak. His tongue poked out of the side of his mouth. “No. He spent some time here, recovering from a gruesome wound - almost died. Said it was a bear attack, though Zawo told me the cut was too clean to come from a claw. After that, we didn’t see him for a couple of years. Now he comes through every so often doing odd jobs. I like him, but there are a few in town who would rather he never come back.”

Who are you, Vidmar? “Why was he in town this time?”

“Said he was passing through; I think Ember gave him a job,” Rane said, stepping off the stool and examining his work. Unsatisfied, he stepped back up and dabbed the leak with a cloth. “She might know where he is; lives over the bridge on the northern end of town.” Ember, Vatis thought, committing the name to memory. “Or you could ask after him at the market. It’s just across the road,” Rane added, water dripping from his hand as he pointed. “He usually picks up a few supplies when he’s in town.”

“Thank you, Rane,” Vatis said, walking toward the door.

 “Vatis, would you like to stay another night?” Rane asked. “I’ll give you the room for free if you have another story to tell.”

“That’s awfully kind of you, but I cannot stay. I want to get to Vicus before the pumpkin harvest ends,” Vatis lied. He wasn’t sure when the pumpkin harvest began, much less when it ended.

Rane exhaled, the disappointment evident on his face. “That’s too bad. Next time you’re in town, I’ll have the same deal, a room for a story,” he said, mending the leak with what looked like plaster. A glob of the thick clay-like substance splashed into the barrel. “Vicus, you say, Gods, it’s been ages since I’ve had a pumpkin pie,” Rane continued. His focus seemed to shift, causing more plaster to fall into the barrel. “Damnit, I’m sorry, Vatis. I have to fix this so I can get a stew going.”

“I’ll be on my way. Thank you, Rane. I’ll hold you to that deal if I visit Basswood again,” Vatis said. Highly unlikely.

“May your feet find the road,” Rane said, wiping a drop of water off his chin with the back of his hand.

“And yours.”

The market was his closest lead. Hopefully, the shopkeeper could point him in the right direction. A tall cart pulled by two enormous horses passed in front of him as he walked out of the tavern. The bright sun surprised him when the shadow of the carriage moved on. Vatis sneezed, trying, unsuccessfully, to shield himself from the sunlight.

“Health to you,” a woman nearby said.

“Thank you,” Vatis said, blinking to adjust to the light. “Excuse me.” He approached the woman as she walked across the road. She carried a woven basket of various fruits and vegetables. “Excuse me,” he repeated, closing the distance between them.

“Good morning,” she said.

“Good morning. Would you be so kind as to point me in the direction of the market?”

She pointed towards a peculiar-looking shop; it wasn’t in line with the main road like the other shops in Basswood, but its front porch hung into the thoroughfare like an overbite. A painted yellow sign read “Basswood Market” above a bowl of various groceries. “Thank you,” Vatis said as he bowed and strolled towards the store.

A bell rang as Vatis opened the door. An herbaceous aroma filled the store with a scent that urged customers to stay longer than they intended. The Basswood Market looked like most general stores in central Emre. Tall shelves stocked with fresh produce, dried meat, household items such as thread, and various traveling materials lined the shop's perimeter.

“Welcome,” a brown-haired, middle-aged woman said, stocking a shelf with green apples.

“Good morning,” Vatis-of-the-Road said cheerily.

“Can I help you find anything?”

“That would be lovely. I need lamp oil, thread, maybe a needle or two, and enough food to last two weeks on the road,” Vatis paused. “More importantly, do you know a man named Vidmar? Has he been by the store recently?”

“Yes, the treasure hunter. Ember came by this morning; said he found her ring. He picked up a few supplies the day before yesterday,” the woman said, placing the last apple in her basket on the shelf. “But I haven’t seen him since. Sorry, love. I can help you with the rest of the list, though. This way.” Damnit. Vatis wanted to leave and find Vidmar or Ember, but he did need a few supplies. A few more minutes won’t hurt. They walked through the store gathering everything on Vatis’s list: two containers of lamp oil, black cotton thread, a single sewing needle, a few apples, a loaf of hard brown bread, and dried venison. She even refilled his ink. As Vatis reached into his coin purse, the shopkeeper said, “Oh, I just received a shipment of juicy, ripe oranges from Numeria. You must take some. They are wonderful on the road.”

“I’ll take three,” Vatis said, pulling out a few more coins.

“What? No? It can’t be?” The woman said from across the store.

“What’s wrong?”

“The oranges. They’ve turned, but they should have been good for another week. I don’t understand,” the shopkeeper said. She held a large wooden basket, nearly overflowing with fist-sized oranges covered in green, fuzzy mold. “I just sold one yesterday to Vidmar, actually, and they were beautiful and sweet.”

“There must have been a rotten one at the bottom of the basket,” Vatis said.

“Gods, I swear I checked them all when they came in. They seemed fine,” she said, examining each orange. “I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No. I appreciate your help,” Vatis said, placing the payment on the counter near the basket of moldy oranges. He added one extra Kan to the pile. “For your trouble.”

I need to find Ember. What did Rane say? The northern end of town, over the bridge. Restocked, Vatis started toward Ember’s. The small city of Basswood disappeared behind him as he walked. The road was unusually vacant for a sunny day, mid-morning. A single rider trotted past Vatis carrying what looked like deer pelts on the back of his horse. He nodded a polite greeting and continued his course. On the other side of the bridge, a slender man with a traveling pack walked like he was running late. His wavy brown hair flowed over the collar of his leather jacket. Vidmar. It must be. Vatis ran to catch up to him, the supplies in his pack clicking rhythmically together.  “Vidmar,” Vatis said, breathing heavily.

“Vatis,” Vidmar said, looking annoyed that someone interrupted his walk. “Are you running from someone?”

“What? No, no,” Vatis said. A fire smoldered in his lungs. “Where are you headed?”

“Haran.” He didn’t elaborate.

Vatis usually traveled alone; it was easier. He could leave when he wanted, walk at whatever pace he wanted, sing whatever song he wanted, and most importantly, be himself; he didn’t have to act. It would be nearly impossible to play Vatis-of-the-Road for long. Traveling alone was his preference in almost every way imaginable, but he craved new stories, and Vatis needed Vidmar’s story. “I,” Vatis paused. Can I join you?”

Vidmar sighed, then tilted his head back and forth like he was weighing his options. He rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know.”

“We can share stories along the way,” Vatis said eagerly. “Maybe I can answer some more of your questions.”

Vidmar huffed in agreement. “You need to keep up. It will take more than a week to reach Vicus,” Vidmar said.

Vatis whistled, doing his best impression of an excited blue jay. “Vicus? I thought you were going to Haran.”

Vidmar took something out of his pocket and carefully placed it in his pack. He turned his back to obstruct Vatis’s view. What’s that? Vatis thought, extending onto his tiptoes. “I am, but I’ll need to restock in Vicus,” Vidmar said, tightening the bag’s straps and waving Vatis forward. “Where are you headed?”

Vatis smiled. “The road is my home. I’m simply looking for some company, and if I got a story along the way, well, that would be fantastic.”

Vidmar furrowed his eyebrows. “Fine.”

They walked in uncomfortable silence for a while. Vidmar even walks confidently, Vatis thought, searching for something, anything to start a conversation. He usually did not have trouble talking. Should I ask him about his past? Where he’s from? No, not yet. He’s too guarded. I need something else. Then, a crisp, citrusy scent filled the air as Vidmar began peeling an orange.

“Did you get that from the market?” Vatis asked.

“Yes.”

“When?” Vatis asked, despite knowing the answer. He can’t know I was asking about him.

“Two days ago.”

“And the orange is ripe? No mold?”

“No,” Vidmar said, his tone getting sharper with each answer. Information is going to be hard to come by with this one.

“I tried to buy some this morning, but they had all turned. They looked as if they were three months past ripe,” Vatis said, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

Vidmar threw bits of the peel into the trees. “Must have been a bad one in the bottom of the basket.” Vidmar tossed a slice to Vatis.

Vatis bobbled the catch ungracefully. “Thank you.”

Conversation became slightly easier after that. Vatis told Vidmar of his adventures with Gunnar and his interaction with Heppni and asked gentle yet prodding questions like: where did you get that dagger? And how did you get that scar? Each question was answered with a short response. Vidmar did seem to be interested in Gunnar, though. His eyes gave away more than his words.

They stopped around noon for Vidmar to relieve himself. Vatis took the opportunity to write a note in his journal. He flipped to a blank page, readied his quill, and wrote:

Vidmar Notes and Deeds

He underlined the title on the center of the page and gently blew on the fresh ink.

“What are you writing?” Vidmar said.

Vatis jumped. His book closed prematurely and fell onto the dirt road. “Gods,” he said. Vidmar didn’t make a sound as he returned from the woods, not that Vatis had been paying close attention to the sounds around him. It seemed like Vidmar could go wherever he wanted without anyone knowing. A dangerous skill that comes with too much practice.

A smile snuck onto Vidmar’s face. “Jumpy, eh?”

“No… Well, yes, but Gods, don’t sneak up on me like that. You almost gave me a heart attack,” Vatis said, dusting off his journal. He opened to the page he had been working on, and a thumb-sized smudge took the place of the word deeds. Damnit. Vatis clenched his fist, channeling his anger toward his carelessness, not Vidmar.  

They walked for a few more hours. Vatis carried most of the conversations ranging from King Kandrian Ambita to the price of ale. Soon, a purple sky emerged over the tops of the tall golden-leafed trees. “We better stop here for the night,” Vidmar said.

Vatis nodded. “Seems like a fine spot; plenty of time for a story or two. We might even be able to light a fire.”

“We’ll see,” Vidmar said, walking off the road into the forest. He gestured for Vatis to follow. “Come. We can’t sleep on the road.”

After some searching, Vidmar found a cozy spot on the other side of a hill nestled between a cluster of sparsely leafed oak trees. Vidmar ran to the top of the slope, examining their surroundings. Only faint rays of sunlight remained, leaving behind long shadows that played on the ground before darkness consumed them.

“What do you see?” Vatis asked.

“Nothing. It gets dark too damn quickly these days. Get a small fire going. I’ll circle the camp and make sure no one can see it.”

Vatis gathered small branches and kindling; he piled them in the organized, tent-like fashion his father had taught him many years ago. He struck his flint and steel together. Once. Twice. Three times. Three times for luck, his father used to say. One time was almost always enough, but it never hurt to have a bit of extra luck. Sparks sprung into the pile, clinging to the wool-like kindling. Soon a fire sputtered to life. Vatis wanted to call for Vidmar but restrained himself. He grabbed his journal and scribbled some of his thoughts about Vidmar onto the smudged page as he waited.

It seemed like hours had passed before his new companion entered the welcoming circle of firelight. Vidmar sat down and warmed his hands by the fire. “No signs of wolves or bears or bandits, but that’s not surprising. We are still close to Basswood,” he said.

“You seem like you have a lot of experience on the road?” Vatis said, posing the statement as a question.

“It’s where I spend most of my nights,” he said, relaxing on the trunk of a fallen tree. He pulled a dagger from his belt, cleaned it with his shirt, and sharpened it with a stone. The rhythmic clink created a charming melody with the crackling fire and chirping crickets. Vatis watched him repeat the same cycle for six other knives, three more than he knew Vidmar had been carrying.

Why does he need seven knives?  That was the question Vatis wanted to ask; however, he awkwardly returned to their conversation from earlier. “I’ve traveled most of my life, and I have never run into much trouble.”

“Consider yourself lucky,” Vidmar said, tucking the last of his knives away and pulling some dried meat out of his pack. “You have to be extra cautious these days” What does that mean?

You need to ask him already. He had been avoiding the question all day. “You seem like you have led quite an interesting life, Vidmar,” Vatis said, adding a small log to the fire.

“And nothing to show for it,” Vidmar said, his tone deathly serious.

“I’d like to know more about it. I want to add your story to my collection,” Vatis said, poking the fire with a stick to avoid eye contact with Vidmar.

“Why?” Vidmar asked.

“I collect stories. You’re more interesting than anyone I have met in a long time, including Gunnar. You must have a story worth telling. Why else would you carry seven knives, constantly look over your shoulder, and walk silently like an….” Vatis paused when he noticed the fire in Vidmar’s eyes, not a reflection from their camp, but a fire burning with either hatred or regret.”

“An assassin,” Vidmar said through gritted teeth.

Vatis dropped the stick in the fire and held up his hands. “That was not what I was going to say. I….” I can’t lose him now, not when I’m so close. “I’m sorry.” That’s it. Play it apologetically, garner his sympathy. “Vidmar, I’m truly sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry, Vatis,” Vidmar said, running a hand through his hair as he looked up at the stars. Vatis followed his gaze, the lights twinkling through the thin canopy. After a long pause, Vidmar continued. “How do you collect a story?”

Vatis tried to contain his excitement, but still, his lips curled into a smile. “I follow you around for a bit and ask questions about your life along the way. You don’t have to answer every question, and you can ask me to leave at any time. I won’t get in the way. I promise.”

Vidmar sighed. “Fine. You can have my story, but it’s getting late; we should get some rest. I’ll take the first watch.”

Vatis screamed inside his head. Yes. His fingers tingled; his lips trembled. It took everything in him to act calm. “Splendid. Do you need to take watch? I thought you scouted the area.”

Vidmar’s eyes narrowed. “Yes.”