Luminosity: Tales of Balia

One—Aegis

THEY SAY THE STORY of Vion and Dianna is just a myth, that surely such things didn’t really happen in the waters of Balia’s great seas. But who can say what TrueGod will call into play when he chases down a soul? Those who tell this myth hope it is true, for there is nothing more exciting than knowing a god will change the very fabric of the world to pull a person close to himself. Perhaps the tale feels mythical because it suggests a god will do such a thing to pursue one he loves. Or perhaps it feels mythical because of the sea monsters. Whatever it is, the story gets passed down. A myth is born, and hope passes to yet another generation...

VION YORRAAN WALKED the familiar path home, no longer seeing the sights along the way. The last of the summer flowers blew across the packed earthen road, sending colors and fragrances his way, but he wasn’t aware of them. Birds wheeled overhead, calling to one another of the coming of autumn and the need to gather, but he didn’t see their colors or trace their paths through the clouds. The sun shone on a blue sky, turquoise above and purple near the horizon as dusk fell around him, but he missed this. Everywhere the world lived beyond his nose and his eyes, calling for his attention, screaming to him of the complexities at work around him, but he closed off his senses to them as he did daily, and he muttered to himself and held a bandage to his right forearm, wondering how long the blasted hole in his arm would continue to bleed.

Vion didn’t love his work. But he was a responsible man, so he walked this path each day and lent his strength to Bennor, helping the man till and grow and harvest wheat and care for cattle and chickens, and on the last day of each week he brought home a bag of coins to feed his wife and children. Then he spent the next day sleeping and chasing his dogs in the yard, and he congratulated himself for being able to enjoy such simple pleasures. He was neither rich nor poor, smart nor stupid, and he was glad to be so normal and to live life in a peaceful way.

Dianna, he called when he got close to their home. Dianna, where are you?

She emerged from the wooden house, her forehead drawn in seriousness, and he sighed. He wished she would smile more. Their life was good, and yet she found such reason to face it sober and cold. Had she always been so cold, he often wondered. Would he have married her if she’d been this way at the start? But he couldn’t change her, and she was a good wife in many, many ways, so he smiled pleasantly and held out his bandage.

I cut myself on the harvest plow. Do you think you can help me?

She nodded, her face softening as she took his arm in her small hands and unwound the bandage. She pulled him to the ground and looked at the wound a moment, gazing at the jagged edges of the skin.

It must hurt, she said, facing him with a look of deep concern. She didn’t smile enough, but she did care for him, and gently she let his arm go and went inside to get supplies. The wound wasn’t large, only a couple inches, but it bled heavily, and as she’d pointed out, it hurt.

She returned quickly, and little Charib was with her, hanging onto her dark skirt.

Papa’s bleeding, he said, pulling his thumb from his mouth to speak. He was their youngest child, barely three, and Vion rolled his eyes at the little blond boy.

Charib, the thumb?

I know, Papa, he said, putting his thumb behind his back. I forgot.

I’m sure you did. Dianna, do you let him suck it all day while I’m gone?

She shook her head, a strange look in her eyes as she put a stinging powder on his wound and bound it with fresh cloths, pulling them tightly to staunch the bleeding.

Better? she asked.

Yes. Thank you. The others are inside?

She shook her head again. Chiron reads in the house, but Zendra is out back playing in the dirt. She and Charib played pirate all afternoon, digging holes and dropping ships into them.

Dianna seemed concerned by this, but Vion just laughed. His daughter was a tomboy to her core, much like her mother had been, in fact, although Dianna didn’t see this, and Vion didn’t find it a problem. He felt Chiron was more of a concern, his head always in a book. The boy was almost as somber as his mother, and he liked nothing Vion liked. He wondered how he’d allowed the boy to become so much like the woman of the house and not like him; he wished he’d done better teaching him. There was still time for Charib, though, if he could just wean him from his thumb and his mother’s skirts.

Thank you, he said, gesturing to his arm. Dianna smiled, her face brightening, and he leaned close and kissed her. As usual, she backed away before responding, although she did respond in kind. He loved to feel her lips on his, and he stroked her firm body beneath her heavy skirt.

You’re welcome, she said, smiling. Her eyes were sad, though, and he wondered what had upset her this time. It seemed many things upset her, and he wished she could relax and enjoy life as he did. She made everything harder than it needed to be.

She had food waiting on the table, and they sat in their wooden chairs and ate together. Charib ate little, their pickiest eater, and Vion bowed to Dianna’s desire and let him eat three slices of bread and little else, although he felt the boy should be forced to eat a few bites of everything she’d made. Chiron discussed his book and his time at school that day, and Zendra and Dianna talked with him, having also read the book. Vion decided he would read it, too, for it sounded enjoyable, filled with adventures on the seas and pirate ships and gold. Often Vion had wished he’d gone to sea and not become a farm hand, but things were what they were, and he managed to find many pleasures in this life, even if it wasn’t ideal.

After the meal the children went outside, and Vion lit the lamp and read Chiron’s book while Dianna fussed around the house, cleaning the dishes and straightening the clutter and finally sitting across from him with mending.

Your arm is better? she asked. It took a moment for the words to percolate through his reading, and he looked up and nodded.

Yes, he said, returning to the book.

And the harvest will go well this year? she asked. Bennor put in many new fields; will you harvest them all before the frosts come?

Again he finished his page before answering, wishing he had a quieter place to read. Ah, yes, it will be fine.

She said nothing else, focusing on her mending, and they remained this way until the children returned, panting and laughing. The dogs followed them inside, although they left again as soon as they saw Vion, and he smiled at them. They were like children themselves, and he enjoyed playing with them. He especially liked it when all the kids and the dogs romped as one.

Time for bed, Dianna said, setting her mending aside. For a time he couldn’t focus on his book, and he brushed Charib’s teeth with the bristles and listened to the others complain that the bucket was cold tonight. Indeed, autumn drew near, and the water was startling in its chill. Soon all of them had changed to their warm sleepers and climbed into beds, Zendra in the small loft and the boys in their shared room in the back of the house, and Dianna returned to their worn sofa and looked at Vion a long time.

What? he asked after a moment, setting the book aside.

Tomorrow, Vion, the children and I will leave for a while.

What? Why?

She shook her head, and he thought her eyes looked damp in the dim lantern light. We will visit my brother. I haven’t seen him for a time.

But the older two will miss school.

Vion, we need to get away for a while, she said firmly. If I thought you’d understand, I’d tell you all about it, but we seem to have an unspoken pact never to discuss it.

Discuss what? he asked, feeling a bite of anger.

Anything, she said shortly. We won’t be gone forever. We just need some time. Vion, right now, if a man showed an interest in me, and the price for that interest was an intimate encounter, I would give it to him. That frightens me. I need to go away and think about things for a time.

She nodded once and went to their room, and he growled his irritation. This kind of drama wasn’t normal for her, and he wondered if she’d been gossiping at the well or attending a strange sect or something. Perhaps, though, this was best. She would leave for a time, visit with her sister-in-law, and come home herself again. These moods weren’t common, but they always passed. Yes, it could be good. Perhaps he’d take this time to catch a boat to Aegis Island and gamble a little. He stayed away from the sea because of her fears, but if she was gone, he could indulge himself a little. They would spend this time apart indulging themselves and then be prepared to come together again. She was always especially amazing beneath the sheets when they’d been apart, too, so he could look forward to that, as well.

He hadn’t expected this time of separation, but as he pondered it, he decided it was a good idea for all of them, and he would support her in her need to do this thing.

THE NEXT EVENING VION got home to find it quiet. He lay on the tired lounger and looked at the coins in his hand, wishing Dianna had at least waited to take some coins with her. She shouldn’t have left just before their pay came, but when she was in this kind of mood, she had little reason. As he counted out a few coins, he smiled, excited about going to the harbor again. Before he’d met Dianna he’d planned to live his life on the seas, having spent much of his youth working pubs near the docks. He loved the smells of fish and salt, and he enjoyed watching the many kinds of people come through on various ships. He’d met tiny merchants from the eastern Slavend lands with their ruddy skin and angled eyes, and the ebony Sables from the south, and the olive Agridores with their gowns and their turban hats. Here in Balivor, a city between lands, all kinds of men lived and worked and traded, and he never tired of the variety. He imagined life on the sea would show him even more variety.

Vion slept well that night, and on Firstday morning he walked toward the harbor. Dianna, of course, had taken the cart, and although he had a horse, he didn’t want to stable it at the harbor all day, so he walked part of the way and convinced a traveler to give him a spot on the back of a pig truck for the rest, so he arrived at the harbor well before the midday meal. He knew the area well, and within minutes he had found a ship to Aegis and booked himself passage. The ship wasn’t to leave for some time, so he roamed the docks, remembering his earlier times here.

Balivor was a town in the land of Balia, a world filled with many kinds of people. In its long history the city had been conquered often, so its people were diverse, and the city had become a crossroads where many cultures met and melded into one metropolitan community. Vion had been born and raised here, not far from the docks, and he’d come here often in his youth, dreaming of escape. Not that Balivor was a bad place, but Vion’s mother had little, and she changed husbands often, and Vion wanted more than a poor foolish woman could give. So, he’d come to the docks and listened to stories of different lands and different peoples and different cultures, and he’d vowed that someday he would be more than his upbringing had taught him. He would see the world and have grand adventures and bow to no one.

Of course, those were the dreams of a boy, and when he did grow up he became responsible, and he was content in his life, but he still felt the stirrings of greater things when he walked on the docks and looked at the ships from the far ends of Balia rocking in their moorings here in this town.

He was on board the Simon Sintra long before it left the dock, inspecting the small ship from bow to stern. She wasn’t large, with a small hold for cargo and only enough space below for two or three men. This ship never saw the great oceans, too small and tight for more than three- or four-day journeys through the Salted Sea. The captain was an older man, bent with age although great in size, and the crew members at his side looked like his sons, all of Sable and Agridore descent, with dark skin, fuzzy dark hair, and long noses and faces. Vion himself, like Dianna, was Boreal and west Slavend, with pale skin and light hair, but nobody paid attention to such things in Balivor, where all kinds of men bred with all kinds of women, and very few could claim just one or even two specific peoples in their heritage. Most were a mix of almost every type in Balia.

The ship carried three passengers besides Vion. His companions were also Boreal with some Slavend mixed in, two younger women and a middle-aged man, all dressed in clothing that spoke of wealth. None of the three spoke to him, instead sitting on a rotting wooden bench and looking over the harbor with no expressions on their faces. Vion walked past them and spoke to one of the ship’s mates, who wrestled with the sail.

Do you need help? he asked.

Nay, not yet, the man said. He was likely Vion’s own age, late thirties, although his skin was worn from the salt and sun. Just got word that the weather won’t be helping us all the way, though. We have to row this boat ashore. Ever rowed a passenger ship, mate? Not the fun it looks to be.

I thought Aegis was close, Vion said. The weather can change that much between here and there?

It can when it’s of a mind, and it’s thinking of winter early today. Sharp winds from the north bringing a swell of cold.

As if listening, the wind blew against them, and it was indeed cold. Vion shivered and looked across the water, wondering how a thing so still and calm could hold such mystery, but he knew it was possible. Captains in his pub always said the sea was as hard to read as a woman sometimes, and often it made as much sense.

Better go have a seat, the man said, shivering himself. Papa wants to leave early since you all are here, try to beat the winds so we can make landfall on Galion Island by morning.

Vion returned to the benches and sat across from the stern-faced trio, grinning at them. He found such sternness funny, and he imagined what it might be like to toss a spider at the smallest woman, the one with the most pinched features. Perhaps her companions would smile if he did, although he suspected they’d toss him overboard for ruining their somber moods. He snickered at the thought, and all three sets of eyes leveled at him in disapproval, and he turned away to laugh alone.

The Simon Sintra moved into the bay and maneuvered slowly and expertly between the other ships, soon leaving the crowds and moving into the open passage. The Salted Sea was huge, several sailing days long, and it held many islands. Some were well populated and easy to find by sail, such as Aegis Island, while some were so far from the winds that rarely had they been touched, and mysteries surrounded most of these. Vion had heard stories of cannibals on some of the islands, men who worshipped ancient evil gods and ate trespassers. He also knew stories of wealthy pirates on others and of backward tribes on still others, and he looked across the waters and wondered what it would be like to touch lands no civilized man had touched. The thought gave him an unexpected thrill.

As the mate had suggested, the winds turned on them before long, chilling them. The ladies pulled their fur shawls tightly around their shoulders and stared in irritation across the water, but Vion found this fascinating. He’d spent years on the docks, but none on the water, and as the boat pitched with more ferocity he found his excitement growing. He was afraid, but it was an invigorating fear. He watched the waves come from afar and tensed as they tossed the ship, each raising her slightly higher out of the water than the one before, the rhythm speeding up with each wave.

Not as bad as we thought, the mate said as he moved past the passengers to adjust rigging. He walked strangely, able to time his footfalls with the sway of the ship in an elegant dance, and Vion wondered if the man had been raised on the sea, if his mother had allowed him to join his father here from his first steps. He envied such a life, and he watched the men work in wonder, imagining he himself was with them, proving himself against such a mighty force.

The winds continued, but the ship arrived in Aegis’ bay without incident. The wealthy trio rose, thanked their captain with somber voices, and walked into the small harbor town. Vion followed them, shaking the crew’s hands and wishing them well on their farther journeys today. Smiling, then, he walked down the ramp into the city as well, looking around and wondering where might be the best place to get ale and gamble away an afternoon.

Soon he found himself on a dark seedy road one block from the sea, surrounded by warehouses, pubs, and whorehouses, and the men who moved between them were twisted and dark themselves, some missing hands or eyes, most wearing scars on their faces and limping along. He paused and looked around, wondering how to get back to the respectable part of town, when a high-pitched laugh and a sweet scent caught his attention.

He looked up and realized he stood in front of a fortuneteller’s shop. Two young women exited, looking entirely out of place, and they walked with unusual confidence down the road. They wore the clothing of the wealthy, their thick skirts swishing around their ankles as they laughed and chatted. Intrigued, he walked up a soft wooden step and peered into the lighted doorway. A woman sat within, her age unknown, wearing a large red hat that cast her face in shadows. She wrapped in a colored shawl, and he imagined she was of gypsy descent.

Eh, she said with a strong accent. Come, come, now. Let me see what stands in my doorway.

Vion entered, chiding himself for feeling pangs of fear when faced with a solitary woman, and sat at her table. A lamp on the table beside her and one near the door spilled two weak pools of light on the room, which was empty but for a tired wooden table that listed to one side, her chair, and another chair across from her with its back to the door. Behind her was a door leading to more rooms, but it was closed.

Do you read palms? he asked. She shook her head.

No, I read people. Ale?

From her lap appeared two hands, smooth with painted, rounded nails, and they held a bottle of ale and a mug. He nodded, watching her pour the drink, wondering again at her age. Her motions and voice spoke of youth, but he thought fortunetellers were usually old women.

The ale was surprising, sweet and smooth, a quality he rarely tasted. He savored the first sip and then drank two quick drinks, feeling it slide delightfully down his throat.

Thank you. With ale like this, I guess this reading will cost me.

She laughed, the sound rich and full, older than her hands and voice. Perhaps not. You have coins?

Some.

I will read your fortune for two copper, and we’ll decide how to proceed from there.

He didn’t know what she meant, but he felt he owed her at least for the ale, so he brought out two copper and placed them before her. With a nod she dimmed the lantern beside her, casting more shadows on the walls, shadows that seemed to move on their own. His head felt large, and he realized this ale was stronger than he normally drank; he shouldn’t have drunk it so quickly.

You have family? she asked, her voice full and deep. It held him, and he had to answer her.

Yes.

A wife. Young, pretty. Why are you here?

She needed to get away.

I’m sure she did, she said, smiling. She pulled the shawl away from her shoulders and exposed a tight bodice beneath that held a fine bosom. He watched her breathe deeply and wondered why the hair on his neck tingled. She doesn’t please you?

Of course she does. Not like she did, but what woman can? In time we all tire of one another. I’m sure she thinks the same of me. We’re as happy as two married people generally are after fifteen years.

Long time, she said. And yet, can you face fifteen more like the last?

I can, he said. She seemed to pulsate before him somehow, her body jumping and yet not moving. His head swam with incoherent thoughts.

I can offer more, for just a few coins, she said, looking into his eyes. Her eyes were dark, with no discernable pupils, like some wild animal. I see your future, Boreal man. It’s long and painful, and you should begin your journey with a relaxing time in my sheets.

I’m married, he said, although he still watched her bosom. Dianna was shapely, slender and firm, but she had no bosom at all, especially after nursing three children.

My talent says that isn’t true. She has no intention of returning, Boreal. She is gone, and you are alone. Now you can do what pleases you. Sail the waters, find your adventures, and sleep with women who know how to make you feel like the man you wish to be.

The words didn’t hurt like they should have. Of course, he thought. Dianna had gone. Women did that, left men or got left by them. It was the way of the world. She’d stayed longer than most did, and now he was free. Hadn’t he felt it today, that longing to be on the sea? Hadn’t the life of the sea called to him all along? He’d told himself he was happy as a farm hand, but that wasn’t true. This woman would show him how to change his life, how to live the adventures he’d been missing.

He didn’t remember moving, but he found himself on her bed, his hands around her, and he leaned closer to her, meaning to kiss her and then do whatever followed. She leaned to him and kissed him, her lips smooth and sweet, and then she pulled away, frowning.

I wish my wife were more like you, he whispered. In the shadows he could see little of her, but her body felt young and supple and nearly perfect.

No, you don’t, she whispered back.

Yes. You are adventure and freedom, a chance to do what I really want to do.

You believe that, she said, sitting up. Suddenly her face was ancient, her hands withered. She sighed and shook her head, pulling away in disgust. You have what’s real in your bed every night, and yet you truly mistake this for that. I can’t feed from your spirit, Boreal man; you have no spirit for me to eat. Get off my bed, and don’t return.

He was confused, his head still heavy and fuzzed, and he paused, trying to figure out what she’d done. In her anger the creature shrieked, and it became a black beast, its skin thick and leathery. It had a large mouth of pointed teeth and heavy wings. With a shake of its wings it blew Vion from the bed to the floor, and his head cleared enough to warn him of danger. He