Singer Sailor Merchant Mage

“Land of lost gods and godlike men.”

Lord Byron

I’d come here to heal someone, not talk about the gods. Although I guess I was happy to sit back and let the priest patch up the thief who had tried to steal from us. His unconscious body was the only audience for the priest’s words, as he had sent Cami to get us some provisions for the road. It seemed rude to decline and would only draw further notice, so we would accept them without complaint.

“Remarkable statues,” he commented, turning them over in his hands after healing the thief with the returned leg. Where did you find them?” he asked, intrigued and clearly interested in the statues' providence.

“I made them,” I answered honestly and a little proudly. The images and inspiration had been divine, but the copies I made were all mine—each a work of art as I replicated the original sculptures.

“Then you have truly been blessed by the gods to have such tremendous talent at such a tender age.” He looked up from my masterpieces to reassess me. “Have you considered working for the church?” There it was. The offer to co-opt my skills for those with a higher level of personal power or power through the organisation they belonged to.

It was a benign enough question, but how he reacted to my refusal would be the true test of his character. “No, thank you. A Bishop and Archbishop have offered the privilege before, but I am happy with the bearing I’m on.” I answered as politely as possible, remembering and referencing both Bishop Bailie and Archbishop Grigori's offers. It never hurts to mention your friends, especially if they are powerful. Even if they were a long, long way away, or maybe not, Archbishop Grigori might have passed through this town not too long ago.

“We are just passing through,” Namir added, his guttural growl an implicit intimidation to take our answer as it stood.

“An Archbishop?” the priest questioned, sounding excited. “Why, Archbishop Grigori passed through on his own circumnavigation not too long ago! No doubt by now he has returned home to be raised as Cardinal, quite the excitement for this year.” He gently probed or was merely genuinely excited by a northerner gaining one of the coveted seats on the Council of Cardinals in the Central Compass.

I nodded in noncommitment as I took in the information. This would be good for Wester Ponente and the expansion of our business to the central compass, as our contract with the Lodestar Church for the purple dye they used to dye their robes was through him. It could only bode well for the Wester Isles if this were true.

“Yes, well.” The priest moved on from our silence, returning his focus to the statues he was still holding. “I have the perfect place for these if you want to look. Would you like to see my room of lost gods?” He asked before he returned the statues to my hands.

“Lost gods?” I asked, a little confused as I considered the statues in my hands. This had never been mentioned in all the lessons Bishop Bailie had given.

“The Lodestar Church venerates the eight. After all, there are four cardinal and four ordinal directions, eight noble races, and eight human kingdoms. It makes sense to keep it simple. There are even eight stats for most people, and the Church of the Lodestar splits the gods by their domains based on the races, inherent strengths and stats.”

“What about the Nobel Nine?” I asked because that is how humans clarified the difference between commoners and nobles.

“Precisely, there are more things in heaven and earth, young man, than can be described by the simple number eight. Life, religion, the complexities of the compass kingdoms and the secrets of magic cannot always be so easily confined.” The impassioned priest was inspired in his monologue.” He was leading us out of the room in which the thief lay.

“What about . . .” I started to ask.

“Don’t worry about him. He is not going anywhere anytime soon. When he awakens in the morning, he and I will discuss his life choices.” He waved away my concern.

“What about the guards?” I couldn’t imagine our Bishop intervening in our own mildly medieval judicial process quite so cavalierly.

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“Do you plan on pressing charges?” He asked, surprised.

“No,” I answered honestly, if a little reluctantly. We did not have time for complications if we would be moving on so soon. This was already complicated enough, thank you very much.

“Then this will be simpler for all involved, and I can hopefully inspire him to make the most of his good fortune and follow a different bearing in the future. What is a priest if not a guide to choose the better path under the light of the lodestar?” He asked depreciatingly.

“And if you can’t?” Namir was neither pleased by our visit of mercy nor the fact that the man would potentially escape the consequences of his actions.

As he asked, we walked past an open room, and I recognised the rune-covered stone standing like a silent sentinel in the centre of the room. Archbishop Grigori had indeed passed through here already, and the stone plinth marked his passage.

“Then I will know that I have tried,” he answered, unaware that he had momentarily lost my interest. “Much like you now know, you did not let a man bleed to death.” He shrugged as if that settled the matter. Then he opened the door to show us a room with a multitude of iconography not connected with the leading eight Gods of the Lodestar church.

“These are gods?” I asked, surprised.

“Gods, spirits, godlings, heroes, it is a somewhat eccentric hobby of mine to document the history of the land before our arrival. The Lodestar Church does not proselytise it, but neither is it heretical, merely historical.” He chuckled at his little joke before continuing, “Similar shrines can be found still on the edges of the Compass Kingdom, where the light of the Lodestar was the last to fall.”

“So many,” I mumbled as I walked around the room, examining the variety of iconography in both subject style and form.

“Who is to say more don’t exist, or rather didn’t exist?” he asked. Though your pieces are exquisite, I would be happy to give them a safe and sheltered spot here if you would leave me a copy,” he explained as he gestured to empty spots along the far wall.

They were but stone, and I would be able to make replacements soon. Fortuna had asked me to do this, but the opportunity's manner and method differed from what I had anticipated.

“It would be my pleasure,” I answered with a little bow before placing the two statues in the alcove he had offered me to place them in. “Ah, Cami has returned.” He gestured to the returning Acolyte carrying a bundle of provisions for their journey.

“You didn’t need to raid the larder so much for us.” I grinned at the large parcels he was carrying.

“We have plenty, and it will not be missed.” The priest raised his hands in false protest at the idea of it being returned.

“Then we are grateful for your generosity. Come on, Kai.” Namir interjected, pulling me away. “There’s a few hours left of the night to rest in.” he said as we left the clergy and the church.

. . .

Ultimately, we left Ice’s End Tavern as the sun rose after a fitful night’s sleep. Heading quietly from the town's water gates. Our visit had been more complicated than either of us had expected, and we were keen to get back on the road. Reaching the river, I slipped our homegrown boat into the water before taking the spotter position at the front. I might have more skills out on the water, but Namir still had the muscle, and the river was easily travelled here. Wide and open, it would be no challenge for him, and we just had to stick to it enough to round the hills before we could resume our flight west once we were out of sight of the town.

“I know that your policy on the Western Isles is to rehabilitate and reintegrate people into new homes and their new lives, but you cannot save everyone, especially as we are miles away from home and effectively travelling on our own. Mercy is the privilege of the safe and secure to dispense with, and we are neither safe nor secure.”

“I know that we cannot save everyone or even a tenth of each town, but can't we improve the life of at least one? After all, it makes a difference for that one.”

. . .

As Kai and Namir left the Drangavik, slipping silently along the watery road heading west to the coast in the early morning light, another was wakening elsewhere.

“Welcome back to the world, Jor.” The priest said out loud as he saw the thief stirring.

“My leg!” Jor shouted, sitting straight up in shock only to realise it was still there. Gasping in relief, he said, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He babbled in gratitude to the man he assumed had given him a miraculous healing beyond his comprehension and the paltry payment he had made on his desperate arrival.

“While your thanks are welcome, the proper recipient should be the two travellers who returned the leg to me once you had passed out from the initial healing. I would not have been able to reattach or regrow it if it had not been returned.”

“They returned it?” He asked, confused.

“Whoever or wherever it was that you lost your lower leg. It was found in the Ice’s End Tavern and returned here, and only its swift return allowed me to reattach it. You were fortunate to fall foul of such kind marks.”

“I . . .” He hesitated as the removal and return of his leg had thrown him off his game. Before continuing, he said, “I don’t know what you mean.” He bluffed poorly, having already expressed his surprise at the fact that his leg had been returned.

The priest, though, was not going to allow his dissembling. “I am not a fool. I am fully aware that a man does not suddenly lose a leg near midnight unless he is placing it in places he should not be,” he said, reaching the end of his patience after a long night monitoring his patient and dealing with unexpected guests.

“Now, fortune favours all fools equally, but I would consider my fate changed by the fortune you received last night. Take your time and reassess which direction you wish to travel in the light of the Lodestar. You have been given a gift,” He said, knocking the reattached foot, “and it would be a shame to waste it.”

They sat in contemplative silence for a moment before Jor asked sheepishly, “Who were they?”

“They answered the names of Namir and Kai, but I suspect you already knew that.” He paused, “But if you are asking who they truly were, I know no more than you do, but I can show you something they left behind other than the leg.”

He gave his arm to help the freshly healed man regain his feet underneath him as he shifted off the bed, following him to the room he had so recently shown the two guests.

“Lost gods?” he asked, confused, as he walked with the priest through the church. “What did they have to do with them?”

“I don’t know, but they did leave something to mark their passing, “he pointed out the two statues left behind. “Mortal messenger or divine demigod, who knows? Still, I would thank the pair who did not leave you by the side of the road to live out your life as a beggar. Give thanks and reflect on your luck.”

The priest left the thief alone to contemplate his life and his future in the room of lost gods. A tiny sliver of faith made its way up to the heavens as a former thief thanked whoever was responsible for his change in fortune. That he was still standing on his own two feet was miracle enough for him to believe and set a new bearing for his life.

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