It was three days when Seth was released from confinement. In the three days he'd done nothing but eat and sleep and think—if he could call it thinking. In truth, it was more of his mind thinking at him, bickering like children with grown thoughts.
Other parts of the days he spent studying his room since there was nothing else to do. The ground of clay and rough topography, he discovered was actually something metallic with a deathly cold to the touch. It dissuaded him from doing much in the part of walking since his feet had remained bare ever since Jabari had begun teaching him how to walk, though certain tasks required he did.
The wall, with is glittery sparkle and granite visage, was unexpectedly smooth, like polished wood. When he walked about he often found his attention drawn to it, left hand gliding across it, fingertips grazing its smooth surface as his feet traversed the rough terrain of the floor. He savored every sensation that came with the touch.
In the mornings, after breakfast, he would practice Jabari's walking technique. It came naturally now so that he didn't have to think to do it, each step gliding after the next. Still, he gave it a conscious attention.
After the span of an hour, his thighs would hurt and his calves would throb. The soles of his feet would feel almost numb, something he chose to attribute to the cold. Still, he did what he had to and walked, Jabari's training a newly imbued habit.
Much could be said about the meals he received. Every one of them was hot and full, garnished with spices he had never tasted and pieces of meat as large as his fist. He never complained about this and never questioned it. He ate as the hungry should and drank as was needed. He did not worry for being poisoned, knowing the seminary could kill him whenever it pleased. Still, his minds often advised caution, and, as was the case most times, he ignored them.
Not that they cared.
It was early in the morning, dark enough to be mistaken for night time, when Ulrich came for him.
Seth stared at him in quiet wonder as his minds bickered and jested, prone to a greater and more disturbing satisfaction from their three days of freedom.
Ulrich led him out of the room without ceremony, simply holding the door open and pointing. On his part, Seth obeyed without complaint as there was truly no reason to.
The path outside the room was a long hallway arched at varying intervals Seth was beginning to think were accurately measured.
The hallway in its long stretch was dark, its only light coming from the soft golden glow of orange lights powered by the torches fastened against the walls.
Ulrich's silence was quiet while they walked, as was all silence. Comparing it to Jabari's, Seth found it paled, however. He doubted there was a silence capable of matching his odd kidnapper's. His had been deafening.
If silence was a god, it would likely worship Jabari.
This silence, however, was intruded upon by the muffled sounds of Seth's childish footfalls. Seth walked as Jabari had taught him in an embarrassing attempt at impressing the priest, hoping he would notice and make some comment or the other. Perhaps if he could impress the priest here, his life in the seminary would be easier. So he put a portion of his mind to his steps, waiting for some words from the priest, waiting for the man to notice he was good at something. He did not. Ulrich ignored him through the journey, eyes focused ahead as he strolled on, Seth's tiny legs struggling to catch up to his long strides.
The path was not straight in the slightest. He took Seth around corners and bending curves. On more than one occasion he actually paused at a corner before turning down another. During these odd moments of confusion, he displayed the only emotion Seth was beginning to accept him for; mild frustration. This emotion, he displayed in troubled frowns. Seth did not ask questions on it; he simply followed.
Ulrich did not offer answers; he simply led.
Seth did not count the bends and turns they made. However, when they climbed the first flight of stairs, he counted that. After the first flight, they took two more corners, four curves, and what he could only describe as a confused turn around. Why? he did not ask.
They took another flight of stairs, one more turn, and a spiraling staircase he found had no support holding it up and feared would collapse under their collective weight before deluging into another pathway, this one without a wall on its right side, merely masts… or pillars, he corrected, his time on a ship affecting his choice of words. These pillars seemed purposed to mark a passing of distance along the walkway.
Beyond the path they walked, Seth saw very little. He could make out patches of large fields. Off in the distance there were buildings over four floors high of simple design, longer than they were tall or wide. All these stayed to his right.
Once they were free from the path and the cover of a roof, He basked in the feel of the morning air as it hit him on all sides. His time underground, as he was now discovering, had deprived him of even the basics. But not enough that he felt he had taken any of it for granted during his time with Jabari where he had done nothing but grumble about his pain rather than bask in the freedom of the outside.
Ulrich did not take him towards the buildings he had seen. Instead, he led him to the left, away from them. He led him down a desire path, the grass on both sides of it freshly cut and rising no higher than Seth's ankles.
The path took them through two buildings taller than the ones he had seen and past a gate Seth knew with odd certainty held a larger compound within. When they arrived at a short black house, wider than it had any right to be and short enough that an unsouled as tall as Ulrich could jump and hang from the roofing, Seth knew they had arrived at their destination.
Ulrich knocked against the door, three thumps in quick successions. They waited a while in silence before he knocked again, this time louder than the last.
There was a crash and a bang from somewhere inside the house. Then Seth thought he heard something like cussing but couldn't be sure. Shortly after, there was ruffling behind the door followed by the sound of an archaic bolt coming undone, then a click.
The door opened inward to reveal a short scraggly man. He was taller than Seth, but not by much. Still, he was a bulk of a man with a chest like a barrel. In the dark, Seth could barely see much of him, and the little light that peeked out of the little gap from behind him did nothing but mask him in an intimidating silhouette.
"What you want?" the man asked, eyes perched on Ulrich. His voice rumbled in a low growl that Seth felt in his chest. Then his eyes turned to Seth and Seth felt smaller than he was.
When the man spoke again, he still addressed Ulrich.
"He break something already?" he asked. "That's got to be a record. What's it been?" he scratched a mess of beard that belonged in the wild and was long enough to swallow his massive hand, "Four days?"
We think we can grow a beard like that someday? A thought asked Seth.
Seth didn't answer it.
"Two," Ulrich said. "And, no. He's a new one."
The man narrowed his eyes at Ulrich before looking back at Seth. "Since when did we start collecting late drops. Did the fool that brought him at least explain himself?"
Ulrich's answer was simple. "Don't know the fool."
"Impossible."
"It would surprise you to know."
The man combed a hand through his beard and Seth was surprised when it went through smoothly without snagging. "How'd you get here, boy?"
Even though he was staring at Seth, it took Seth a moment to realize he had been addressed. He opened his mouth to speak but a mind interrupted him immediately.
Lie.
The thought came unbidden as it always did, but there was an obduracy to this one that he couldn't quite filch.
"Why?" he muttered, afraid to go into his own mind to have the conversation.
Because no man that disheveled has a beard that kept and unkempt, came the response he believed was not from the same mind.
And we just don't like him, another added.
"I need a better reason or I'm telling," he whispered back.
He knew the priests could hear him but he feared this level of obduracy from his minds would only worsen if he did not answer them. It was better the priests thought him mad than getting lost in his head again or the pain of a bickering mind.
He's paying too much attention, another mind answered.
Why would the first person Ulface brings us to be a scraggly dwarf after three days of torture and three days of feeding? Another chimed in. It's clearly the carrot and the stick approach. They've made us let our guard down, now they'll try something else.
"I wouldn't call that torture," Seth mumbled in response.
We think a Baron did all that just because he wanted to vent out a little displeasure? another mind scoffed.
This is pointless, another argued. Just lie.
"He right in the head?" the man in the house asked, drawing Seth from his dissonance.
Seth focused again and met the man's attention returned to Ulrich.
In response, Ulrich shrugged. "I do not have the slightest idea."
The man stepped out of the house and closed the door behind him. Only then did Seth realize he'd been leaning down despite his height, just to make eye contact with him.
Are we that short? a mind whined.
"No—"
He's like a fucking dwarf, another mind cut Seth off in something akin to anger, and he still had to bend to make eye contact.
"We're thirtee—"
Again he was cut off by another mind. Derek was almost as tall as father when he was fourteen.
And Jeremy's almost taller than us.
Oh! the horror! another piece wailed in mock dismay. I knew it. We're dwarves. We were adopted from some dwarf and midget by mother and father and raised as their own. It's no wonder Jabari kidnapped us and not Jeremiah.
"Take the boy to Kyle," the man Ulrich had brought him to snarled. "Do I look like a healer to you? If he's broken, take him to a fixer." He turned away from them, taking the door by the handle as he mumbled: "Waking me up late at night for shitty reasons. Y'all should know better."
Ulrich moved fast before the door opened. He placed a single hand on the man's shoulder, halting his exit, and said, "The Monsignor is already aware of this… whatever it is. The boy is not to see a fixer. He is to be a seminarian, Gareth."
The information seemed to shake the man's interest considerably and he turned around to stare at Seth. Seth saw the suspicion in the glance and fought to keep eye contact.
"He saw all this and admitted him?" Gareth asked in disbelief.
"Yes," Ulrich answered.
"You mean he saw…" the man waved a derogatory hand at Seth, dismissing and belittling him in the single gesture. "And still granted him admission? With all the retarded mumbling and nonsensical monologue, and he still admitted him?"
Ulrich nodded, a bit embarrassed.
Gareth shook his head, flabbergasted. Then he stepped forward, forcing Ulrich to take a step back. "I know the war cost us much, but it's been a long time ago, Ul. We aren't that starved for boys. Don't we still do the checks anymore? Doesn't he have to pass the tests? Look at him, man. He looks like he'll fall off the floor if the wind blows funny."
Seth bit down on his bottom lip to keep from talking, reminding himself that these men could kill him with a look if they wished it.
"And yet," Ulrich stated, "he has been admitted into the seminary."
Gareth fumed at his response. Seth saw the anger rise and his eyes flare a bright, deep brown. The man turned, coveted by his own rage and struck the wall behind him with the force of a battering ram.
The sound of the blow boomed like thunder and the shockwave shook Seth at his core, ruffling his unruly hair.
The building, however, didn't even tremble. Whatever tremors Seth felt, the short house did not share in it.
Then there was silence.
"Reia fueled?" Ulrich asked casually after a moment.
Gareth turned, frowning, and nodded.
Ulrich returned it with a sage nod of his own, then leaned in to examine the wall, though Seth doubted he needed to.
"Not a scratch," Gareth said, dejected. It wasn't a question.
Ulrich nodded again. "Yup. Not a scratch."
"Y'know, I really thought I had it this time."
Ulrich stood up straight and looked at him. "I didn't."
Gareth let out a puff of a sigh and suddenly all the anger was gone while he became thoughtful. "I swear he said there's a trick to it."
"I don't think it's anger, though."
"Yeah," Gareth drawled, dragging the word. "Never seen that bloke angry, not even during the war." He ran his fingers through his beard, then stroked it. "Alright, then. He need the usual, right?"
"Right."
With that, Gareth turned, opened the door, then disappeared inside.
Immediately, Seth's minds went into a cacophony, chaotic and unmeasured.
Did you see that?
There's no way he's less than Barony.
We're looking at the wrong thing, one pointed out.
True, true. Did we feel that power? We swear we felt it in our hair.
We swear, we're looking at the wrong thing, another mind pointed out again. Take a look at the wall. Not a single dent.
Fuck the wall.
Are we even thinking straight? It withstood the blow.
We don't think he put that much force int—
We swear we'll drown us if we dare imply it.
That was probably all the power.
And it didn't crack?
Didn't even cave in.
Seth leaned forward, curious to see.
Beside him Ulrich said, "The seminary walls don't crack. Not normally."
Impossible, one of Seth's minds mumbled. Haven't met a wall that doesn't crack.
"In our defense," Seth returned, "we haven't met a lot of walls."
He caught Ulrich spare him a tired glance before he said, "Something's not right with you, boy."
Seth didn't look at him when he answered. "I know."
.............
Gareth stepped out a moment after, mumbling something to himself Seth couldn't hear. In his left hand he held a sack as tall as Seth's waist from the ground up. It was a light brown, as if hybridized with a mix of grey. Seth wasn't sure, as he couldn't see it clearly in the dark, and the orange light from the room, no doubt a product of fire, didn't cast it in an accurate enough glow.
Gareth tossed it at Seth's feet without ceremony and it hit the ground with a muffled clatter.
"Go on then," Ulrich told him with a gesture. "It's yours."
Seth approached the bag, meeting it in two steps, and squatted. Opening it, he found a rummage of things inside. There was a shirt of cotton that he didn't need to hold up to know was not his size. The trouser he found was grey, just as the shirt. For some reason he'd expected jeans—everyone tended to wear jeans—but it was something stretchy. A jogger, he deduced, knowing he was right.
The rest of the contents were more attention catching than the clothes. There was a hunting knife perhaps six inches in length. A sword fashioned from wood held up the sack on the side and he grazed its length with his finger. The piece of wood was surprisingly smooth to the touch. Seth rummaged around a bit more, making sure to watch for the hunting knife because while he hadn't touched its edge, he knew it was sharp.
Deeper in, he found a pair of shoes and was reminded of how long it had been since he'd worn a pair of good ones—or any at all. Quietly his toes wiggled themselves, perhaps in anticipation of finally being protected from the cold and coarse ground.
The boots were hard and rough, likely made from some reia beast or the other, as they made the best materials, though only soul mages made food of the creatures. At the bottom of the pile he found something out of place. It was a simple weight of stone, almost like a small ball the size of a grown man's curled finger. Bringing it up to the little light of the night he found it was more a fat coin than a small orb. On one side of it was an engraving of words he did not understand so he turned it to the other side. There he found an engraving of a skull. He had an inkling of what it likely was, or could be, but wasn't sure. Its symmetry was something he had only heard described in some of Jonathan's books.
"A dragon skull," Ulrich said, as if reading his thoughts.
Fucking called it, one of his minds clamored.
No we didn't, another one opposed. We were guessing but we weren't sure.
Seth turned to look at the tall priest but didn't say anything.
Perhaps he's just tall to us., his mind noted for some reason.
Perhaps, he was inclined to agree.
Seth kept the coin held up to the light, noting the loop fashioned at its top where a rope would pass. The two priests watched him quietly as he did all this. Ulrich, or perhaps it was Gareth, said something he didn't hear, his attention held by the coin in a deadly allure.
"Gold steel," Gareth said in a deep rumble.
This one got Seth's attention and he looked up at him, confused.
"Gold steel," he repeated. "At least that's what I was told they call it outside these walls."
Seth held the coin up higher and let the night light hit it, no matter how little. Its yellow was pale, wrong, and he tried not to let it bother him. Gold steel, he'd called it. It did make me wonder.
He'd never heard of it before.
We definitely haven't, a piece of his mind agreed.
Seth turned the coin again. If it was gold, wasn't it meant to glint at the touch of the light somehow? Mother liked wearing gold and they always glinted.
That's cause it's gold, not gold steel, they thought.
Seth frowned at the thought.
There was no 'they'. He was a single person. A single pronoun. It didn't matter what his messed up minds thought. It didn't matter how many they were.
He dropped the coin back in the bag and closed it at the mouth. Rising to his feet, He reminded himself that there was no 'they' a second time.
He believed it now, but there was an inkling of fear that he wouldn't believe it in a year, or more. He was not a delusional little boy, he knew just how far he could go before he caved, and he was willing to bet each fragment of my mind knew this, too.
As he turned to Ulrich, sack in hand, something whispered, lost within his thoughts, hidden deep in the silence of his mind he didn't know he even had. There was something ominous in it and he shivered at the thought.
He's catching on quick, it said.