The Jack of Souls (Multi-award winner!)

Chapter 23 - Father Kogan the White

The peasant priest's god is Arkus, who has only three commandments: Worship no god, Bow to no lord, and Use no magic. Therefore it is the chief virtue of a peasant priest to deny his god and preach others do the same. A peasant priest is immune to the irony of this. His second virtue is to persecute magic, and the third is to free men from slavery. Scholars disagree on which of these is most hateful to Westies.

 — From Blood and Insanity, by Sir Millifred Doorge

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kogan tore a hunk of bread off and chewed experimentally as he found a comfortable spot against a snowy wall. If he imagined it were a ripe old cheese, the mold didn't taste half bad.

Above him the table ground against the floor, accompanied by urgent whispers between the yeoman and some family member who'd come in from outside or been hiding in the house.

It was then he realized he could see. Something glowed before him, like mist in moonlight.

A ghost. In a fit of anger he realized the yeoman had tricked him into hopping into a grave still occupied by its previous owner. "Just you stay in your corner, Ghost, and I'll stay in mine. I don't aim to be here long. Then you can have it back."

The glow didn't move, and it didn't speak, so if it was a ghost, it was a right feeble one. Kogan chewed another hunk of bread off with his teeth.

As his eyes adjusted further he realized the glow didn't hang in the air before him, but rather that it was the floor of the place that glowed.

"I'll be hung and dyed," he muttered. "It's that glow fungus." He'd heard of such a thing. Gods leave him if they didn't say it soaked up sun in daylight and shone like the blazes all night. In fact, the only part that glowed was the patch below the hatch where the indirect daylight had fallen while the hatch was open.

He considered a moment longer how this might affect his plans to limit his travel to the hours of dark after sunset: he was covered with the stuff. At night time he'd shine like a man afire.

The knights entered the house with a rumble of shouts and hard-heeled boots on the planks above. The voice of the yeoman and his family punctuated the din with pleas of innocence and offers of humble hospitality, and pledges to hunt for the stinking priest day and night and report him the moment they saw him. He heard the sound of a second trap door opening, and muffled shouts that followed.

Kogan swallowed the last of the bread, and settled back comfortably in his smothercoat amidst the drifts of fungus and rotten stair treads, and slept.

* * *

He woke to a fresh breeze and voices newly loud and clear in his close earthen hole. He'd been aware of muffled thumping and voices from above during his sleep. But these voices were no more muffled than the sound of his own breath.

"Father? You alive?" a voice called from above. It was the yeoman's voice.

"Course he's alive, Miles," said a woman's voice. "Just sleeping."

"Should we let him sleep?" Miles asked.

A child laughed. "Wake him, Pa! I never seen a priest before. Are they all white and powdered like dumplins?"

"Be a hairy bunch of dumplin if they was."

They laughed.

Kogan smiled, and opened his eyes. Above him a rectangle of candlelight had appeared in the ceiling of his grave. It was rimmed around with three honest, curious faces: the yeoman Miles, and what Kogan guessed was his goodwife and boy-child.

"Reckon you sent those lords a-packing?" Kogan flashed his crack-toothed grin.

The boy squealed with delight.

Miles said, "Didn't you hear them stumping around and hollering to beat the wolves? "

"Might be I did, though I don't much recall it."

Miles gave a sly smile. "Don't nothing much bother you, do it Father?" He slid a notched log down the hole, and Kogan climbed out. Outside, night had fallen. No light came through the window skins, but fire burned in the stone hearth, and bread and butter in quantity awaited on the table.

The yeoman's wife stood between him and the table, one hand extended imperiously toward the door. "Out," she said. "You look like you fell in an ash pit. Hang up them rugs in the barn and wash the rest o' you in the trough."

Kogan chuckled. "You got a good woman, Miles."

"Name's Marta," she said, hand still extended toward the door. "You know anything about a Phyros-rider come through the north?"

Kogan's attention perked. "Sir Willard come through a day past. What'd you hear of it?"

"These knights was asking if we seen one."

Kogan grinned. "Old Will gave 'em the slip after all. We done it."

Miles and Marta exchanged uncertain looks. "And they named another," Miles said. "An Old One. Only no one says his name in this house."

Kogan shook his head. "Them knights was trying to scare you."

"Them knights was scared as we was, Father. Hardly wanted to say his name themselfs." Miles studied his hands until his wife made a tiny sound of impatience. "We was glad to help you, Father," he said. "But now as you're clear of your trouble, you best be moving on. This valley's a dead end trap, so you best get out the way you came."

"Or else maybe climb up to that fire-cone pass," said Marta. "Don't nobody go there, but there's a road.

Kogan displayed his snowy arms and the carpets of his smothercoat, which were white as linen in sun. "Expect me to hide out when I'm painted like a snowman?" He batted the carpets on his chest, and a few flakes fell to the floor, but most clung like grease paint.

Miles stepped closer with the candle, squinting at the stuff and frowning. "That all shining too?"

"Glow fungus," Kogan said.

Miles and his wife exchanged guilty glances. "Gods leave us, Marta. We can't let him go out like that. He'd be a lit up like a signal fire saying, 'Here I is, come and get me!' We has to keep him till we can wash that out."

"Glow fungus don't come out overnight, fool," Marta muttered. "Gonna have to scrub him up with boiling water more days than we got before that Phyros-rider come sniffing round."

"I don't mind no glow fungus," Kogan said, puffing his chest. "I'll be on my way and bring no more danger to this house."

Marta snorted. "You ain't going nowhere. No priest leaves my house looking like a sheet ghost. Get to the barn and scrub yourself with straw and water till it don't come off no more. Then come back for some bread, and we'll talk about you earning room and board while you're here. First thing you can do for us is to dig the fungus out of that cellar. I reckon you'll be hiding down in that hole again before too long, and we can't have you coming out looking like a puff cake again. Soon as we get you cleaned up, you'll leave us. I aim to be rid of you in less than a seven-night."

*************************************

Thanks for reading!

-- If you liked this chapter, please let me know with a comment or vote.

--And tell a friend! 

-- Even if you didn't enjoy it, please let me know. That's how I improve! :)

* For JACK OF SOULS news , sign up for the newsletter at stephenmerlino.com. *