Trail of the Gods: The Morcyth Saga Book Four (31 page)

Sitting down against the wall, Jiron looks
to James and says, “I don’t think we are going to find
anything.”

“We can’t give up,” he insists. Taking out a
portion of his remaining rations, he takes a bite before
continuing. “Somewhere in this town, there has to be something
which will tell us where the priests went.”

“Why?” Jiron asks. He’s asked this same
question daily since the first night turned up nothing. “Just
because the last high priest was born here doesn’t mean he came
back here.”

James just gives him a look of frustration,
“There just does.”

“We’re running out of food,” he tells him.
“And I just hope no one discovers the bodies of those guards we
left in that cellar, the hunt will be on for sure.” Yesterday,
while they were searching through an old building, three soldiers
had stumbled upon them and were disposed of quickly. They stashed
their bodies in the building’s cellar and then stacked old boxes
and crates around them to better hide them.

The morning light continues growing as the
sun peeks over the horizon. Shortly the sound of the slave gang can
be heard approaching as they come to continue working to clear the
streets.

Today, the work gang comes to just in front
of the building where James and Jiron are hiding. Jiron glances out
the window and sees them beginning to clear the rubble away from
where the wall from the building next to them has fallen out into
the street. It had been one of the ones gutted when the fire had
raged in this area.

They decide to move upstairs to avoid
accidental detection should anyone wander into their building.
Directly above them they find a room with a window which overlooks
the area where the slaves are clearing away the debris.

Taking turns at watch, they settle in to
await the coming of darkness when they can once more resume their
search. As Jiron had taken the first watch yesterday, James takes
it today.

There are times when it’s hard to keep
yourself awake when you have nothing to do, especially when you are
unable to do anything for fear of being discovered. James sits near
the window taking advantage of the slight breeze coming through.
His mind wanders to a life which now seems so long ago.

He thinks of his grandfather and
grandmother, both had always tried to do their best, but he was at
that age when nothing anyone told him meant anything. Homesickness
strikes him and he wonders if he’ll ever go home.

Dave. Just what is Dave doing? He must be
worried sick about him, as he supposes everyone who knew him is
right now. If he ever does make it back, will role playing games
ever mean the same to him again? After having lived it? He wishes
that some day he’ll get the chance to find out.

The sound of the men outside working
continues to give him some added distraction, albeit not very much.
There’s only so much rock clearing you can watch at a time. Every
once in awhile he can catch a snippet of what they’re saying, for
the slaves are the former citizens of Saragon and thus, he can
understand them.

From down below, he can hear one of the men
sneeze. Such an occurrence has been common, what with all the dust
being raised by the removal of the rubble.

“Gesundheit,” he hears another of the slaves
reply.

He continues to reminisce about home when
his mind turns to Meliana. Oh, Meliana. The way he felt when she
had held his arm while he walked her home is still strong. How she
swayed while they danced, her laugh when he said something
whimsical. She’s been in his mind a lot lately, perhaps when he
gets back to Cardri and all this Morcyth business is concluded,
maybe he’ll find a way to return to Corillian and find her. See if
there’s actually something between them.

Suddenly, his mind snaps back to the here
and now.
Gesundheit?
Did he hear that correctly? A chill
runs through him at the realization that that is not a word native
to here.
That’s a word from home!
Since coming to this world
he’s not once heard that particular expression.

Going to the window, he peers down and sees
the same slave gang that he’s seen the last few days since they
arrived. A dozen men of varying ages, from early teens to even one
old grandfatherly looking individual, none of which immediately
stand out as the one who spoke.

He continues to watch them and after a half
hour, the scene repeats itself. Someone sneezes and the
grandfatherly individual says “Gesundheit.” Excited, he keeps a
close eye on the old guy. The other slaves near him help him out.
He does less than everyone else due to his age, but the slaver must
allow it for no recriminations are forthcoming from him.

Every once in awhile the old man sits down
and takes a break while the others continue working. From what Miko
had told him of his experiences with slavers, he was surprised the
old guy is being allowed to rest.
Guess different slavers work
differently.

Waking up Jiron, he tells him what’s been
happening and the significance of that old man saying the word he
said.

“You think he’s from your world?” he asks
incredulously.

“Yes,” he says with conviction. “I can’t
think of any other reason he would say that.” When Jiron looks at
him skeptically, he adds, “If I can be here, others can too.”

“True,” agrees Jiron. “But there’s still no
reason why he has to be from your world. He could’ve picked that
word up anywhere. Or it could even be a different word that just
sounds similar.”

Shaking his head, James says, “No. He said
it at just the right moment under just the right circumstances. Not
once, but twice.”

Jiron gives him a silent look for a moment
before saying, “Okay, then. What do you plan to do?”

“Help him,” he replies.

“How?” he asks. “If we take him with us,
he’ll just slow us down and then we’ll all be either dead or on a
slave gang.” Going to the window, he glances down to the old man
below who’s still sitting on large piece of broken wall close to
their building, wiping the sweat off his face with a rag. “Look! He
can’t even keep up with clearing away small rocks and wood. There’s
no way!”

“I know,” concedes James. “But I have to at
least talk to him. I’ve got to know for sure.”

Jiron gives him another long look and then
glances back down to the street. The old guy has once more joined
his fellow slaves in removing the rubble. “Where he sat is near one
of the windows on the bottom floor,” he says. “Maybe he’ll sit
there again and you can whisper to him out the window.”

“Good idea!” agrees James excitedly.

“Just be very quiet,” he warns. “You don’t
want to attract the notice of the slavers.”

“I know,” James assures him.

Moving back downstairs, they position
themselves by the window near where the old man had rested. They
occasionally glance outside to see if the old man will sit back
down near them. A half hour later, he pulls out his rag and once
more goes to sit on the large piece of wall not three feet from the
window where James waits.

Once the old man has sat down, James
whispers out to him, “Don’t make a sound. I’m in the building
behind you.” He sees the old man’s shoulders stiffen a fraction as
his words reach him. “Do you understand me?” he asks.

The old man nods his head as he wipes his
face.

The slavers who’re overseeing this group are
over by the main party of slaves and are pretty much ignoring the
old guy. James asks, “Are you from around here?”

He rubs his face with his rag and then turns
his head toward the window where James is and replies just loud
enough to be heard, “Born here.”

That was definitely not the answer he was
expecting. Glancing at Jiron, he sees him shrug. Turning back to
the window, he whispers, “I heard you use the word ‘gesundheit’
when that other man sneezed.”

Nodding, the old man asks, “Do you know what
it means?” There seemed to be a slight tremor in his voice when he
asked the question.

“It means, health, or good health,” he
replies, wondering why he would ask such a question.

The old man freezes for a second then again
wipes his face with the rag. He sits there quietly for several
minutes until James begins to think he might’ve forgotten about
him.

“Why did you ask?” questions James.

The old man shakes his head as one of the
slavers looks over in their direction. Getting up, the old man
returns to help the other slaves in removing the rubble.

“What was that about?” asks Jiron when James
moves away from the window.

“I don’t know,” he replies. “But when I told
him what it meant, he reacted to it.” Sitting down against the wall
under the window, he adds, “Something’s going on here.”

Jiron munches on some of his rations as he
watches James mull over what happened. “I have to find out
what.”

He waits by the window the rest of the
morning and afternoon. Though the old man takes several rest breaks
in that time, he doesn’t do it near their window. James catches him
casting looks over toward the window from time to time as he works.
Finally, when the sun is getting low in the sky, he comes and sits
back down by the window and asks, “You here tomorrow?”

James whispers back, “Yes.”

The old man nods as the slavers holler for
the slaves to gather together for the return to the slave compound.
As the old man gets up off the piece of wall, he points to it and
then points to a spot closer to the wall before going to join the
others.

James watches as the old man shuffles along
with the others back down the street. When they’ve moved out of
sight, he turns to Jiron and says, “We need to move that section of
wall closer to the window.”

“Why?” he asks.

“The old guy indicated we should,” he
replies. “It may enable us to communicate better tomorrow. Less
chance of being overheard.”

“No. I mean why bother talking to him?”
Jiron corrects.

“When I told him what it meant, he seemed
surprised that I knew,” he clarifies. “He also asked if I was to be
here tomorrow. Why would he say that?”

“To tell the soldiers and have us arrested,”
suggests Jiron.

Shaking his head, James says, “He could’ve
done that any time today. No, he wants to tell me something.”

“You may be reading more into this than
there is,” Jiron insists. “He could just be a lonely old man who
wants to talk with someone who’s either not a slave or a
slaver.”

“Maybe,” James skeptically admits. “Only one
way to find out though. If he is just a lonely old guy, I’ll say no
more about it.”

“Okay,” he agrees.

They wait until it gets dark and then make
their way out onto the street to where the section of wall the old
man had sat on lies. Struggling with all their strength, they’re
able to move it over to where it almost touches the wall beneath
the window. “That should be close enough,” Jiron says after the
section of wall is in position. They use their feet to eradicate
the marks on the ground they made when moving the slab of wall.

Nodding, James adds, “We should be able to
hear each other well without having to speak too loudly.”

“Are you planning on searching other
buildings tonight?” he asks him.

Shaking his head, he says, “No, I’m too
exhausted.”

“Then go ahead and get some sleep while I
keep watch,” he volunteers.

“Thanks.” They return into the building
where James lies down and falls right to sleep. Jiron doesn’t wake
him all night, and even manages to get a few hours of sleep as
well. True, he was taking an awful chance having no one on watch,
but they’ve been there several days now and no one has yet to come
by except for the slave gang.

The next morning, the sound of the slave
gang approaching awakens James. He moves to the window where Jiron
is already looking out at their approach. “Do you see the old guy?”
he asks.

“Yeah,” he replies. “He’s in there with the
others.”

They watch as the slaves and slavers
approach and then begin working in the same area, clearing the
rubble. It’s an hour or so after their arrival when the old guy
makes his way over to the now much closer section of fallen wall.
Sitting down with his back to the window, he produces the same
dirty, stained rag to wipe the sweat off his face and neck.

“You there?” James hears him whisper.

“Yeah,” he whispers back.

“How did you know what that word meant?” he
asked.

“It’s used a lot where I come from?” replies
James. “Why?”

“You’re the first one ever to know,” he
explains. One of the slavers glances over in his direction, but
then after a moment resumes the conversation he’s having with
another.

“Does that mean something to you?” James
asks.

“Yes,” replies the old man. “As far as I
know, my family has been the only ones to have used it. Have been
for hundreds of years.”

“Oh?” prompts James.

He glances over to the slavers to make sure
they’re not watching before continuing. “Seems one of my
great-great- I don’t know how many grandfathers had been told that
someone would come who would know the meaning of it. That we needed
to be aware and ready.”

“Ready for what?” he asks.

Just then a slaver looks in the old guy’s
direction and he gets up to join the others in picking up
rubble.

James almost screams in impatience. Knowing
he’s got a while to wait, he sits anxiously next to Jiron under the
window. What the man said keeps running through his mind.

The time seems to pass excruciatingly slow
before the slave gang takes their noon meal. When the sound of them
clearing away the rubble ceases, James peers out to see the slaves
lining up to get their food and water. After receiving his share,
the old guy comes back over to take his place on the section of
wall by the window.