Autumn 1030, First Age

Three weeks ago, it was the last time Mother went outside to drill the servants. Then she laid down for good and stopped speaking. Hope that the disease was receding vanished. Mother, or rather Mrs. Margarita Keller, née Olivar, the sole proprietor of the estate in Broadreach, fell silent, her gaze wandering.

Naturally, all eyes turned to young Martin Keller. Carrying on his late father’s legacy, caring for his younger siblings, and harvesting two hundred tons of rice annually were now his responsibility.

“Martin..?”

He was interrupted by the voice of Kevin, the youngest of his siblings.

“The leasewardens from across the river are asking how many kilos we’ll float on Wednesday.”

Kevin had bright brown eyes, straw-colored hair, and was taller than Martin had been at his age. He spoke in a quiet, slightly high-pitched voice and never stood in the aisle to avoid disturbing adults.

Martin mustered a smile, rose from the chair at the head of Mother’s bed, and walked over to his brother. Placing his hands on Kevin’s shoulders, he announced,

“Mom will get better,” he said, not knowing whether he was talking to his brother, himself, or his mother.

His brother didn’t answer. Martin headed out of the room, turned around at the door, cleared his throat, and added:

“The same as always. We’ll float off the same amount as always.”

***

“We should have called for the medics from Merid,” said Oxtail, Mother’s brother-in-law, waving his hand. “Not our butchers.”

The Oxtail family’s visit, including Aunt Angelika, Mother’s sister, and her husband, was, as always, unannounced. Angelika spent most of her time with her sister, questioning Helena, the diaper nurse, in detail about her meals, sleep patterns, and stool consistency. Oxtail, on the other hand, didn’t look in on his sister-in-law at all.

“Master Belsamkin used to visit Mother,” Keller began. “He administered cold water shocks and ash and fat compresses. We also had sages from Tauan. They used acupuncture, massage, and bowls. We spared no expense on the best physicians, both local and foreign.”

Oxtail spent the rest of his visit on the veranda, smoking the last of his tobacco. Soon, Martin and his brother said goodbye to the family, listening to Angelika’s assurances that they would visit again soon. They sat on the veranda and remained silent for a while.

Martin waited until the family was out of earshot.

“The only thing we did not try was to summon the brothers from the Abbey of the Rock.”

Kevin looked at his older brother. In both the Olivar and Oxtail families, priests weren’t held in high esteem. Dues were paid and blessings were received, but no one specifically went to ask for prayers before a journey, for the sprinkling of a house, or for children to be allowed to serve.

Margarita was an exception, though a sensible one—she didn’t take priests for granted, but she did place considerable demands on them. Father Hefty, who served at the abbey, was legendary in his preaching and prayer poetry.

“Mother loved listening to Father Hefty,” Kevin agreed in a muffled voice. “But is that it? We’re already summoning the brothers from the abbey…”

Martin didn’t answer. He was thinking about something else entirely.

Throughout Wakaraj, especially in the steads, the story of the recent tragedy at Clearwake was spreading.

During the feast, a monster appeared out of nowhere at the manor—the cursed son of the steadlord Clearwake. He strangled his father before the eyes of the assembled crowd. The guests slew the creature, and a certain Gerstop, a leasewarden, took over informal care of the steadlord’s estate.

Keller was an eyewitness to this tragedy. He was at Clearwake manor that night, acting as his mother’s replacement.

The creature appeared just after a local singer sang a song about his son’s unexpected return. He also remembered that Gerstop had personally brought him back and rewarded him handsomely.

“They call Father Hefty a poet-priest, don’t they?” Martin finally said. “Because he has beautiful sermons. Like songs.”

He frowned with intense effort. “A paid singer conjured a creature at Clearwake. Perhaps a virtuous priest will conjure Mother back to health” we thought.

Eventually, he jumped up from the bench.

 “Kevin, we have to bring the priest-poet to Broadreach.”

***

“Don’t worry, miss.” Vitomir, the steward, managed a smile and added in his strained voice, “Your brother is in good hands.”

Adela, Martin’s sister, nodded gratefully. She didn’t have a particularly high opinion of her older brother’s competence. However, Vitomir, the steward, took care of practically all the livestock and animals in Broadreach. He had a real eye for detail, and he was excellent with the unruly mounts and stubborn pack animals they used. Vitomir’s absence was a greater burden for Adela than her brother’s several-day journey.

“Have plenty of water, and may the sun rise behind you,” she uttered the traditional formula, adding from the heart, “Come back quickly, grandpa. With or without a priest.”

Keller, in addition to Vitomir, took Lina, the cook, with him. First, to act as a maid, and secondly, to present the abbot with an appropriate gift. The latter was a great honor for the devout Lina. She felt the envy from the rest of the servants, knowing she would present the abbot with a large loaf of bread made from the finest rice flour.

The pack turtle, huge and slow but possessing an unparalleled carrying capacity, yawned and set off. On its shell, it carried an entire pallet of equipment, plus Lina. The muddy Wakaraj basins were teeming with giant tortoises and other reptiles, and the locals quickly learned to breed and use them for transportation.

Vitomir, riding a faded salamander, led the way ahead of the tortoise, and young Keller followed on an impatient newt. They should reach the abbey by tomorrow evening.

***

The Abbey on the Rock towered over the surrounding area, looming high among the treetops. The forest animals seemed to quiet down as the paved road turned into a narrow, uphill path. Even Keller’s skittish newt suddenly became calmer and easier to handle.

The stark, gray Rock was crowned by a building that stretched vertically upwards. Constructed of long, squarely hewn gray beams, it looked as if some powerful force were sucking it skyward. The few, tiny windows made the structure seem impenetrable, and its only entrance was a vertical crack that divided the building into two perfectly symmetrical halves.

Keller swallowed, impressed by the abbey’s majesty and austerity. Lina, on the other hand, was visibly moved, glancing at it and bowing her head. The procession moved toward the building’s entrance.

They left the animals at the entrance, tied to poles, where water troughs were prepared. Lina clutched the bundle containing the loaf to her chest; otherwise, they had brought no other equipment with them. Keller strapped on his ancestral saber, a symbol of his family’s status and position. The three of them moved through the gap between the beams.

At this time of year, it grew dark quickly. The walls of the crevasse were more than 30 feet high, and there was no light coming from inside the abbey. So, they began squinting as they moved slowly along the heavy walls.

The gap suddenly opened onto the abbey’s inner courtyard. Wooden colonnades surrounded the square, their cornices casting impenetrable shadows over the building’s interior. The gray bulk of the Rock rose proudly above the abbey.

The silence of the courtyard was suddenly filled by the sound of a single bell, echoing like a drop on water. A silvery-blue light flashed in the gathering darkness and began to grow slowly. It was accompanied by the steady, single chimes of the bell and the slow shuffling of footsteps.

The light approached the courtyard. A man carried it at face height, followed by a procession of a dozen figures. One was ringing a bell, while the others carried jugs or unlit lamps.

The light source was a stone placed at the heart of a radiant object resembling the sun. The rays emanating from the stone were coated with a mirrored surface that scattered and multiplied its silvery glow.

Only now did the travelers notice that the courtyard floor was covered with a network of water-filled channels. Passing through on dry ground required navigating a labyrinth of paths. Small shrines in the form of carved wooden posts marked the way.

The light bearers, followed by the procession, moved toward the first of the chapels. The celebrant stood before the chapel, bowed, and carefully tilted the light he carried. Like a thick liquid, a stream of light poured into the pale stone attached to the top of the chapel.

Like a miniature lighthouse, the chapel began to glow with its own light.

The procession continued, spilling light into each successive chapel. The courtyard transformed into a silvery, lunar clearing, crisscrossed by a watery labyrinth that reflected the glow of the stones.

Keller and his companions silently admired the sowing of light, a ritual that took place every evening at the abbey. Lina held her hand to her mouth and wept silently with emotion.

When the courtyard was already aglow with the light of all the chapels, the celebrant and part of the procession turned back into the building. Two men separated and lit the lamps they held in their hands. Two more moved toward the newcomers from Broadreach. Both wore puffy trousers, shirts, and vests.

An older, balding gentleman with a kind face and round glasses stepped forward. Geometric symbols were embroidered on his vest. Behind him followed a younger boy, similarly dressed, though without the symbols on his vest.

“Welcome to the Rock,” the older man said warmly. “I am Father Hefty.”

***

The brothers took care of the animals and the travelers’ equipment. They were received in modest rooms where they could wash themselves, and then invited for refreshments in the common hall. The abbot greeted them seated, explaining that he was old and only rose for morning and evening rituals. In the dark hall, lit by blue lanterns, he seemed shriveled and slightly poisonous.

“Father of the Rock, creditor of memory,” Keller returned the greeting. “I come from Broadreach to reflect on the eternal truth of Water and be comforted by the radiance of Light. Please accept this gift of shared work as a token of respect from my family and servicemen.”

As if on cue, Lina rose and, head bowed, padded toward the abbot, carrying the bundle containing the loaf before her. More out of excitement than custom, she knelt before the abbot and held up the gift. One of the monks unwrapped the bundle, revealing the dark red crust of the bread. The abbot placed a ghostly kiss on it and gestured for the gift to be taken away. One of the monks disappeared with it into the back of the hall. Lina obediently returned to her seat at the end of the bench.

“Thank you, Father of the Rock, for accepting my gift,” Keller continued after a moment. “I also came to ask for help for my family.”

Before he could continue, the abbot spoke in a dry voice.

“Your mother, leasewarden. A wise woman. She always knew what to say and when. She knew when not to say anything.”

The abbot’s every sentence ended with a pause. Keller wasn’t sure whether to continue or whether he’d just heard a suggestion to shut up. The abbot must have known and at least respected the Mother. He took the risk.

“Thank you, Father. My mother is seriously ill, she can’t get out of bed, she’s losing her mind. We don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Man loses his mind and forgets. Water remembers,” the abbot replied sententiously.

“On behalf of the family, I would like to ask for Father Hefty’s presence and prayers at my mother’s bedside.”

The abbot waited a moment. He stared into space, as if at Keller, as if past him.

Hefty has his own light. Like every light, it also casts a shadow.”

Keller felt himself losing patience.

“Father, I feel that Mother would expect my visit to…”

He stopped when the abbot suddenly began to breathe with a hiss, gasping for air through his mouth like a fish out of water.

“Father of the Rock,” an elder monk immediately appeared next to the abbot.

Judging by the number of patterns on his vest, he must have been of high rank. The patterns intertwined at the sternum to form a geometric snowflake symbol. The monk turned to face his guests.

“Father must retire. Please forgive me, dear guests, and please understand. He has devoted a great deal of attention to you, more than he usually devotes to guests.”

Without waiting for confirmation, with the help of two brothers, he supported the abbot and began to lead him to the door.

They were left with two monks. The clergy were no longer eating at this hour, but a thick, spicy soup, rich with olive oil, was prepared for the guests, along with a mint infusion to balance its oiliness. They ate in silence.

Then the younger monk led them to their rooms. They passed the main entrance, which was still open, casting the silver glow of the Stations of Light shining outside into the room. Lina discreetly tugged on Keller’s sleeve and beckoned him toward the courtyard. Between the Stations, with his back to them, sat a slightly hunched, thin monk. The light reflected off the bald top of his head. Hefty.
Keller entered his room, escorted by the friar, and pressed his ear to the door. After making sure the brother had left, he quietly stepped out into the hallway and returned to the courtyard entrance.

Hefty was sitting on a kneeler set up near one of the Stations. Keller stood a short distance away, unsure what to do next. 

“Look,” Hefty said suddenly, extending his hand. “From this angle, if you look at it, those two lights are reflected multiple times in the water troughs. And again in my glasses. If you expose the light and let it work, there’s more and more of it.”
Hefty smiled warmly and somewhat naively at Keller.

“That’s very philosophical, isn’t it?”

The monk first seemed terrifying to Keller, then strange, and now childish. He smiled nervously back.

“Sit down, young master.” Hefty made room on the kneeler and then looked over his glasses. “Although I don’t know if it’s appropriate to suggest this to the heir.”
Keller was somewhat relieved to see his father had a sense of humor. He sat down next to him. They were silent for a moment, watching the lights reflect in the water.

“Father Hefty, is it true that words can change the world and people? Not as a metaphor. Literally change a piece of the world.”

Hefty nodded.

“Can they bring terrible things into the world?”

He felt that Hefty also knew the story from Clearwake

“They can change memory, and with it, identity.” Hefty spoke rather indistinctly for a preaching legend. He used gestures to help himself. “They can destroy. They can repair.”

Keller sensed the moment.

“Since they can fix things, I’d like to ask for something for my mother. That you come with us to Broadreach tomorrow and pray for her recovery. So that your words would mend her health.”

Hefty seemed to have shrunk slightly.

“You did not come to ask for Mother, but for yourself.”

Keller suddenly felt offended.

“My mother is sick, I guess it’s normal.”

He felt his voice rising.

“Mother barely eats. I don’t know if she understands what I’m saying. What if I don’t have time to tell her anything? I saw how words conjured up a son at Clearwake. Why won’t you conjure up her health?!”

He almost shouted the last words.

“I don’t want her to leave,” he admitted quite quietly.

There was a long silence.

“Maybe that’s what’s needed,” Hefty said quietly. “That you can’t hide behind her.”

“Maybe,” Keller blurted out, feeling a mixture of helplessness and shame.

Hefty nodded and stood up.

“You care about your mother. Come back to her first thing in the morning. Take her hand, turn off the lamp. Let her disappear. Goodnight.”

Hefty started toward the building. Keller waited a moment until he could no longer hear his footsteps. Then he gritted his teeth, fell to his knees, and punched the water with his fist. The splash echoed through the courtyard. Silence fell again, and Keller felt a pang of regret for his outburst. He went back inside.

They must have heard his approach, because the cook’s round head popped out of the room.

“Young Master,” she called to him in a whisper.

He entered her room. Vitomir was there too. They were sitting over a jug of water, some crackers, and a jar of pickled vegetables, which Lina must have either brought with her or had to borrow from the monks.

“That monk with the snowflake,” Lina began conspiratorially, “They serve at funerals and prepare the passing for death. Probably the abbot; may the Light shine on him as long as possible.”

Keller ignored her.

“Hefty won’t come,” he sighed. “He thinks it’s over and that Mother should be allowed to die.”

A moment of silence passed.

“Maybe they want to let her go on her own terms,” Vitomir continued in a neutral tone.

Keller grimaced.

“And how do they know what her terms are? I’ve always obeyed and done whatever she wanted, so now I’m supposed to leave her when she can’t talk? Besides, she doesn’t have to. She never talked much, except to the younger siblings.”

He didn’t know why he was blurting out these words. Maybe it was to console himself after his conversation with Hefty.

“It was enough for me that she was silent. I guessed what she wanted. What do you mean she has to decide? I never made decisions.”

Keller realized he was winding himself up. He fell silent. Lina raised her arms and tried:

“That means Lady Mother trusted you…”

“On the contrary,” Keller hissed.

Vitomir moved his lips as if to say something. Seeing Keller’s tight expression, he let it go. Martin grabbed a cup of water from the table, downed it in one gulp, and left.

***

After meeting Keller, Hefty went straight to the abbot. Felix, the father wearing the snowflake symbol, warned him that the abbot was in a bad mood. Hefty ignored him. The eldest father sat at a desk, on which two candles burned half-heartedly. He was hunched over, his eyes tired, but he looked as if he expected a visitor.

“Father,” Hefty bowed.

The abbot continued:

“Let this boy learn that the world does not respond to every request…”

Hefty nodded.

“His mother isn’t from here,” the abbot continued, leaning back in his chair. “She came after she learned she was pregnant with Keller senior’s child. The children seemed to hinder her in managing her estate, which she had doubled. She often reminded the children of the obstacles and the doubling. Never directly, I might add.”

“Why are you telling me this, Father?”

The abbot looked at him searchingly.

“People need to be allowed to leave in their own time. Don’t get that boy’s hopes up.”

Hefty lowered his gaze. He was about to leave when he remembered one more question.

“Father, has a priest ever saved someone from death with just a word?”

The abbot smiled crookedly.

“If only people started coming here asking for miracles… That would be a disaster. Aren’t you a miracle worker, Hefty?”

Hefty narrowed his eyes for a moment. He bowed to the abbot, wished him good night, and left

***

They woke up just before the harvest of light ritual. The monks, in procession, were now gathering the glow from the evening-heated stones back into the radiant object known as the granary.

The morning turned out to be foggy and damp, making the reptiles sluggish and reluctant to cooperate.

Lina packed her gear, and Keller searched for Hefty in the procession but couldn’t recognize him. He wondered what he would say back home—and whether Mother would even understand him.

Vitomir aggressively pulled on the salamander’s reins to shake it from its slumber and direct it onto the path down the Rock. Just then, in the crevice leading to the abbey, Father Hefty appeared, dressed in a traveling cloak and a pair of sturdy boots.

“Eminent Lord Keller, I haven’t visited Broadreach for a long time,” he said cheerfully. “Will you be willing to accept me into your retinue?”

***

They were both standing by Mother’s bed, Keller and Hefty. Keller had his arms folded across his chest, his fingers nibbling at his lower lip. Hefty was leaning over Mother, who lay completely still, slumped over, barely breathing through her open mouth.

Hefty began to recite the song. 

we stand at attention 

even though we are not guilty of anything 

as children 

we filled bags of rice 

still not right 

still wrong 

we stand we are afraid 

that we won’t hold out 

anything 

please let us go 

we will fill bags of rice

Hefty moistened a handkerchief in a bowl of water, handed it to Keller, and closed Mother’s mouth, which was no longer breathing.