Soul of the Fire

Fitch sank back against the cart. "I've seen him a couple of times." He didn't bother to tell her that Minister Chanboor had once cuffed him when he'd dropped a dull butter knife right near the Minister's foot. He'd deserved the smack.

He glanced back at her. She was still looking up at the windows. Fitch gazed down at the ruts in the damp dirt. "Everyone likes and respects the Minister of Culture. I am joyous to be able to work for such a fine man, even though I am unworthy. It is a mark of his noble heart that he would give Hakens work so that we won't starve."

Beata suddenly glanced around self-consciously as she brushed her hands clean on her skirts. He sought once more to try to make her see his worthwhile intentions.

"I hope someday to do good. To contribute to the community. To help people."

Beata nodded approvingly. He felt emboldened by that approval. Fitch lifted his chin.

"I hope one day to have my debt paid and earn my sir name, and then to travel to Aydindril, to the Wizard's Keep, to ask the wizards to name me the Seeker of Truth, and present me with the Sword of Truth so that I might return to protect the Ander people and do good."

Beata blinked at him. And then she laughed.

"You don't even know where Aydindril is, or how far it is." She shook her head between her fits of laughter.

He did too know where Aydindril was. "North and east," he mumbled.

"The Sword of Truth is said to be a thing of magic. Magic is vile and dirty and evil. What do you know about magic?"

"Well… nothing, I guess-"

"You don't know the first thing about magic. Or swords. You'd probably cut off your foot." She bent to the cart, hoisted the basket of doves and another net of pullets as she chuckled, and then headed for the kitchens.

Fitch wanted to die. He'd told her his secret dream, and she'd laughed. His chin sunk to his chest. She was right. He was Haken. He could never hope to prove his worth.

He kept his eyes down and didn't say anything else as they unloaded the cart. He felt a fool. With every step, he silently rebuked himself. He wished he'd kept his dreams to himself. He wished he could take back the words.

Before they pulled the last of it from the cart, Beata caught his arm and cleared her throat, as if she intended to say more. Fitch again cast his gaze down, resigned to hear what else she would have to say about his foolishness.

"I'm sorry, Fitch. My corrupt Haken nature caused me to slip and be cruel. It was wrong of me to say such cruel things."

He shook his head. "You were right to laugh."

"Look, Fitch… we all have impossible dreams. That too is just part of our corrupt nature. We must learn to be better than our base dreams."

He wiped hair off his forehead as he peered up at her gray-green eyes. "You have dreams, too, Beata? Real dreams? Something you wish?"

"You mean like your foolish dream to be the Seeker of Truth?" He nodded. She at last looked away from his eyes. "I suppose it's only fair, so that you can laugh at me in turn."

"I wouldn't laugh," he whispered, but she was staring off at small puffs of white clouds drifting across the bright blue sky and didn't seem to hear him.

"I wish I could learn to read."

She stole a look to see if he was going to laugh. He didn't.

"I've dreamed that, too." He checked to see if anyone was watching. No one was about. He hunched over the back of the cart and with a finger made marks in the dirt there.

Her curiosity overcame her disapproval. "Is that writing?"

"It's a word. I learned it. It's the only one I know, but it's a word and I can read it. I heard a man at a feast say it's on the hilt of the Sword of Truth." Fitch drew a line under the word in the dirt. "The man cut it into the top of the butter, to show a woman there at the feast. It's the word 'Truth.

"He told her it used to be that the one named Seeker was a person of great repute, meant to do good, but now Seekers were no more than common criminals at best and cutthroats at worst. Like our ancestors."

"Like all Hakens," she corrected. "Like us."

He didn't argue, because he knew she was right. "That's another reason I'd like to be Seeker: I would restore the good name to the post of Seeker, the way it used to be, so people could trust in truth again. I'd like to show people that a Haken could serve honorably. That would be doing good, wouldn't it? Wouldn't that help balance our crimes?"

She rubbed her upper arms briskly as she glanced about, checking. "Dreaming of being the Seeker is childish and silly." Her voice lowered with import. "Learning to read would be a crime. You had better not try to learn any more."

He sighed. "I know, but don't you ever-"

"And magic is vile. To touch a thing of magic would be as bad as a crime."

She stole a glance at the brick facade over her shoulder. With a quick swipe, Beata wiped the word from the floor of the cart. He opened his mouth to protest, but she spoke first, cutting him off.

"We'd better get finished."