The Totem-Maker (part twenty-four)

The Totem-Maker

Chapter Three

I Am the Cause

(part twenty-four)

I saw Vlanna Madla’s foreman come up the street, speaking as he approached.

“Lady Pytta sends that Lom’s ashes be scattered upon the Dagosse, to flow by the gods’ grace to the Edagosse, to the city of the lost. That of his mothers and grandmothers.”

“Of them all, his people,” I said. “Who on the other side live on in their ways. A strange visitor to their city, now and then, brings a strange tale…and they doubt, perhaps, if they live in this world or the next.”

He made a gesture of piety, though I had not favored him with a seer’s vision—only shared a fancy long held, of the afterlife, the chill we feel at times, the certainty we have lived this scene before. One or two hours passed, and the house of Mumas sat closed and silent.

I was less comfortable than I had been—the exigencies of keeping vigil began to tell. I might not succeed alone, even a full day. But a minor ruckus burst at the back of Madla’s establishment, louder than the hammering in the lofts. A figure skipped across to mount the steps beside me. She was a girl of Madla’s, bringing a water jug, a basket of bread and fruit.

“Eat if you like. Or go to her courtyard first, you know. Vlanna tells me to hold your place. Will Mumas come out, do you think?”

“His dignity forbids. But if the servant orders you off, say you’ll go when Vlanna asks it, at his master’s behest. Beware that Mumas has a temper…”

“Oh, that.” She flapped a hand, her mistress’s weight behind her.

“Mumas knows the law,” I finished. “He will be rid of me when he chooses to obey. Remind him, if chance allows, that he may decline the fight. The annals will record my victory.”

I spoke for the shutters. The girl laughed.

When I was back Mumas had not come out. I ate my second breakfast. Madla, seeing to my lunch as well, sent the girl again at midday. The lane was well-trafficked, most pages and porters returning my salute, a few stepping close to ask, “Is this the house where Mumas lives, the man who killed Lom?”

I put a hand to my ear, and with a smile, they shouted the question once more.

So much tacit support from the merchants beneath him, so much bold condemnation from his neighbor, a woman of ordinary birth, but well-respected…so much effrontery from mere servants…

By now, in clatters and mutters, symptoms had begun to manifest.

Mumas would have to summon a man of law. He must seethe that I cost him money, that his spending of it paid me, too, in credence. The shutter edged back and knocked into place, the third time within the hour.

A small man in the square-crowned hat of a lawyer, stoic for the heat under black drape and belt, came at a trot. The crowd stood off, some with a sardonic flourish…to a fresh act in the day’s theater.

25

I Am the Cause

The Totem-Maker (part twenty-five)

(2018, Stephanie Foster)