ahead and do that. I’ll close up in a couple of hours.”
“Okay.” I hang my hammer on the wall and place the knife project by the desk. As I leave I thank my father. When I turn back around, Ethan is already gone, probably gone home so he didn’t have to bother with whatever business I was doing.
I start down the little stone road that hugs the river to my right. The water is clear, about fifteen yards across, and somewhat violent. The current is strong and small hills of whitewater dot the surface, creating a nonstop rushing noise. The air near the river is fresh, and I can begin to smell pine on the light breeze. I’m walking downstream, towards town, so it isn’t long before I pass the ancient bridge that spans the river and the just-as-ancient tower that watches over it. Both were built and used in a war ages past, but both still stand strong though scarred by the wind and rain.
Streets branch off to my left, leading to houses and shops and other things. I take the fourth, and walk down only partway before turning left into Bownan’s shop appropriately named, “Life’s Commodities.”
It’s a small wooden building that somehow appears slightly larger on the inside. Shelves line the walls and objects of all kinds fill every shelf of every aisle. Bownan looks up from his wooden counter when he hears the door open.
“Kadmus! How are you this evening?” He stands and a grin comes to his face before he walks around the counter and greets me with a very enthusiastic handshake. He’s got bright blue eyes and a lengthy reddish-brown beard that matches the curly hair on top of his head. He wears a leather vest over his white tunic, the sleeves of which are rolled up like he’s been working hard.
“I’m doing very well! Yourself?” I find myself always being just as enthusiastic as he whenever I’m in his presence.
“Never better!” he replies. He walks back behind the counter and asks, “What can I help you with?”
“I need a small square of leather and a little bit of thread.”
As he gets up again he says, “Whaddya rip this time, Kadmus? Do I want to know?” He walks down a couple of aisles, as if he’s forgotten where he keeps anything.
“My pack,” I answer. “It got in a fight with a tree on the way back from a hunting trip a few weeks ago.”
“Ah. I see.” He brings me just what I asked for, but as I reach for my coin pouch he says, “Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s just a small thing.”
“What? No, come on.”
“Yes, just take it. Keep your coins. We could all use a few extra these days.”
“Which is why I’m paying you.”
“Kadmus.” He thrusts the items into my hands and says, “Don’t worry about it.” Then he smiles and sits back down.
“Well, take this as a tip then.”
His grin widens as he catches a coin and shakes his head. “Safe travels!” he calls.
The door shuts with a small click, and I head back towards the river. There, I turn left to go a little further into town. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Frederick, and he loves company.
The temple in which he resides sits on the bank of the river, a short while after the bridge. I see the statue in its courtyard before I see anything else.
It’s a tall statue of Khaoth, the king of the gods. The god is portrayed with a noble clean-shaven face and hair raised like flame. There’s a fire in his eyes, but it’s a friendly one. He’s of a medium build. He wears a breastplate, greaves, and sandals, and holds a long sword with both hands, the point resting on the top of his tall pedestal, like he’s standing guard over the temple.
It’s a humble building. A small set of stairs rises on either side of the statue, both of which lead to the same small pavilion. A single door stands behind the statue, raised on the pavilion. The rest of the building is rather squarish, but for the slightly triangulated roof, made of grey brick tinted violet.
Without hesitation I hop up the stairs and enter.
The great hall, like a miniature cathedral, is lit mostly by the enormous window at the back. Candles hang on chandeliers. Stone pillars placed about ten feet apart, four on each side, hold up the arched ceiling. In-between the pillars sit doors that lead to the priests’