The Purpose of a Candle

Tharv's son Ulof had saved a seat for his mother toward the front of the logs that served as seats for the congregation's members. The young man, recently moved out of his parents' home, glared at his father, who glared right back. Tharv had never let his son get the best of him. It was enough his wife so often did.

"I saved two seats," the young man said.

"It's a long log," Tharv said, and nudged Berta to sit down next to their son. The young man seemed to feel his knees brushing his mother's was his father's fault.

With a general buzz in the air, the crowd of more than three hundred people managed to get their seats. Sophi sat down next to Tharv, which surprised him. Schafft and Aussie sat beyond her. Ulof gave the three of them a dark look, and Berta downright ignored them. Schafft nodded pleasantly to them.

In the very front, two logs held the town's leaders — in Oper matters as well as the essentials of life such as farming and trading. The varying number today had sixteen plus Geflo Kraut, the evangelical leader, who stood by the pulpit.

"Brothers and sisters," Geflo opened the service. "We gather here as a family, a family of Mar, who share the same heritage and the same ancestors. We share the same future. We share the same gods, and the same promise from them, as explained by Esgil Erseld, the first hero, whose star is Klar Výtes."

Tharv watched the people around him as the evangelist continued his opening blessing. Some people had their heads bowed, murmuring with the man. This part must be rote, he thought. Some people, like Berta, had their heads up, nodding resolutely with the man. This was a Mar creed, perhaps the Mar creed. The one that defined them, and reminded them why they existed, and what they should do with themselves. Tharv felt a sense of growing inner strength. To know he was a part of this made him happy. He almost took his wife's hand. Almost. But her jaw was set, and he did not want to disturb her.

"... By the grace of Marrish," Geflo finished, bowing his head. The crowd murmured their approval, or something, Tharv couldn't quite tell what they were saying.

The evangelist tapped the pulpit. "Today, let us consider the sacrifices that brought the pulpit to us."

"His sacrifices, he means," Tharv heard Schafft mutter to Aussie.

Sophi waved at him. "Everyone knows this story," she whispered. "It wasn't Geflo."

The cooper evaluated the pulpit, a carved totem of the Hundred Tribes, as Geflo explored the world of Oper sacrifice.

According to the evangelist, the Kalkorae, when working to build Litus Albus, dealt closely with the Fraen, a moon-worshipping tribe that had taken to using the coast for fishing following the Kalkorae's defeat of the Totanbeni shadelshifs. Before, of course, the Totanbeni pirates controlled the coast, and certain death loomed whenever a tribe came near the great salt waters.

"But the Fraen, so instrumental in helping the Kalkorae build the town, our livelihood, succumbed to a poison in the shellfish. Many died. The Kalkorae did everything they could to heal the people of the tribe. But the younger members claimed the Kalkorae brought the disease sweeping their people away and weakening their tribe. They raided the towns and surrounding areas.

"The elders of both communities recognized what was happening and mutually worked to dissuade this, but the Kalkoraen youths grew impatient, thirsting for a response to this assault. It was not until the midnight raid by a Kalkorean youth squad on the main Fraen camp that the elders realized how deep the enmity had grown.

"The Kalkoraen boys used a magical weapon on the Fraen community, smashing nearly half of it before the wints could defend themselves. The elders led the defense, but the high-spirited Fraen youths struck back with their own magic, and several Kalkorae died."

Tharv could feel his wife trembling beside him and reached for her hand, but she had both her hands wrapped around her son. The cooper smiled slightly. It was good of her to worry about her son. The folly of the youths dug into the air behind Geflo's words.

"In the end, the children, for they were no more than that, were captured and disarmed. A truce had to be made, for the men of the tribe refused to work with each other until recompense was established. The Fraen offered this pulpit, and the Kalkorae gave up their magical device."

Geflo paused. "It is by such acts that peace is rendered throughout the land. A fair trade in the face of adversity. Know that the Fraen and this group of Kalkorae intermingled and many of us can trace our lineage back to them. Many of us have an ancestor whose thoughts and deeds brought us this totem."

Tharv watched people nod. Berta's head had dropped, and she muttered to herself, but her hands still clasped her son's. The cooper couldn't quite make himself put an arm around her.

The evangelist cleared his throat. "Today, Hugrit Harstein has asked to mediate our discussion on the sacrifices we make. Please welcome him, and listen to his words."

Sophi nudged Tharv as the ancient man was helped to the pulpit. He was so stooped over, Tharv thought, you could barely see him. Tharv looked at the herbalist's daughter with a questioning expression.

"We need your help," she whispered.

Tharv looked at his wife, but she was listening intently to Hugrit's raspy voice. He was difficult to hear. The cooper slid off the end of the log after Aussie, Schafft and Sophi. He looked back. Ulof was watching him, but Berta faced intently forward. Tharv turned to the three with him, walking briskly back to the complex.

"Is he talking about wild rice?" Tharv asked quietly. "Is that some comparison to being a good person?"

Schafft laughed, and Aussie nearly cracked a smile.

"Hugrit always talks about working in the rice fields," Sophi explained. "He always is trying to get more people to help out. Ever since his back went out, he needs more and more help out there." She pushed open a door to the storeroom where Tharv had stolen the candle.

"Why are we here?" Tharv asked.

Aussie set up small bowls and cups on boards that could be used as trays while Sophi filled them from the skin she had brought with her.

Schafft shrugged, picked up one of the cups, and sniffed it. "Ah," he said, nodding in what may have been understanding.

Tharv followed the agriculturalist's example. It was the kalysut tea. The cooper tried to think of reasons why they would want to serve people this tea. "It doesn't even taste good," he said out loud, startling himself.

Sophi laughed, and Schafft smiled. "Well, it's not its taste, Tharv. It's the effects." He nodded again. "Sophi, your father has been excited and close-mouthed, two things that are nearly opposite everything we know about him. He has discovered it, hasn't he?"

Tharv stared at Schafft, then at Sophi, suddenly very aware that he knew the answer to the question but could not give it to them. But ... Sophi knew, so that was all right for Schafft to ask her. No one would think that he would know, why would they? He had just shown up on Weard's doorstep two days ago, as a spy for his wife.

"Berta will be missing me," he mumbled, but Sophi's stiffened back and wooden stare could have matched Aussie's appearance.

"You will find out soon enough," she told Schafft pertly.

"Sophi," the young man almost whined. "It's as plain as daylight. We don't really need the confirmation from you. What is he going to do?"

"I'm not sure I agree with letting everyone see the fog," Aussie said, to break their icy silence. They both turned to him. Tharv looked back from where he had moved into the doorway, watching and listening to the crowd. He wouldn't have thought it amiss if Berta started screaming for him, no matter how courteous the meeting was supposed to be.

"What do you mean?" Sophi asked.

"Oh, he means that it came as something of a ... a miracle, a gift to him," Schafft said. "To see the motes. They are mystical in and of themselves. I know, I was in awe the first time I saw them, as well. Think of what all those people will be like when they first see them. They won't be able to pay attention to anything else!"

Sophi stared at the cups. "But he wants people to see how he does it, so they can do it."

Aussie shook his head. "If he shows them how, it won't be the miracle."

"It's not supposed to be a miracle!" Sophi snapped. "It's supposed to be the gift of magic. Mar will need to be taught."

"But first, it must be seen that Marrish gives it to Weard," Aussie said, quietly, nodding as though the conversation had ended. Tharv found himself enraptured by the man's quiet words. He didn't say much, but there was a potential energy in him, waiting to turn into action.

The mapmaker opened his mouth as though to speak again, then closed it and started dumping the cups and bowls onto the floor.

"Dinah in all her forms," Sophi hissed. "And Domin, as well, take you. Father will hear of this."

"He's getting up to the ..." Tharv turned to look back in, saw them all staring at him: Sophi red in the face and teary-eyed, Schafft pale in fear, and Aussie resolute as a statue. Tea trickled past his feet. Tharv coughed. "Weard is going to speak. Should we be out there?"

Schafft walked out, his back stiff. Sophi wiped her face and hands on her dress, took a long, deep breath, gave a final glare to Aussie, and left. The mapmaker's eyes followed her out, scanning her from heels to crown, and met Tharv's as she passed through the doorway. Tharv quickly ducked his head, and watched Aussie's wet boots as they left the room.

The cooper followed them out in time to see Sophi run up to her father at the podium and whisper to him. Weard's eyes found Schafft, who looked hurt, and then Aussie, who nodded again. Then Weard's eyes settled on Tharv, still back in the hallway's shadows. The cooper felt he should do or say something. Instead, he glanced at his wife, who had just noticed he wasn't next to her, apparently, and was about to stand up and shout. Tharv slid back into the darkness.

"Good friends and neighbors of Litus Albus," Weard began, his voice strong and unwavering. "We have gathered as Oper, and discussed our gifts, community and sacrifices. We have considered everything we have put forward this past month, everything we have done, in our continuation of Esgil Erseld's tradition, in our patient waiting for Marrish to judge us worthy and give us the gift of magic."

Tharv edged his way out of the shadow. He had to see it. Weard's voice had drawn all eyes to him, and many people sat forward in their seats. He retold the creed of the original cult, how the Kalkorae treated the Mar like children, because they had no magic. He reminded them of Esgil's sacrifices, of the pain he went through to get the word Marrish had given him, the promise of the gift, out. The longer he spoke, the more emotion his voice gave. The stronger his words, the weaker his voice. Tharv felt tears in his eyes. The people were enraptured, but it was a scary amount of focus on Weard. Tharv knew something would happen, and it would be miraculous, and everyone would jump up and down in joy. And the cooper wouldn't be needed anymore.

Needed. Berta didn't need him, his son didn't need him. Tharv realized, maybe, that was what was missing from his life, why he just did what people told him and why they walked all over him. He just felt as though he wasn't needed anymore. And that was why the past few days, while confusing, had been fun and exciting. Mostly because everyone may have treated him like driftwood, but no one tried to grind him under their boots. Schafft was blissfully elsewhere. Sophi was short with him, but respectful of his age. Weard treated him like an equal. Weard seemed to understand him.

Tharv stepped into the light and met Weard's eyes, at the pulpit where his speech had trailed off. The old man seemed strongest and weakest at the same time. What could have put doubt in the man's mind? Was it giving up the secret of the Perkonen? The cooper took a deep breath, and nodded, as though having his mind made up would make up Weard's mind.

"Show them," he whispered, and the words themselves seemed to echo across the space, reaching Weard's ears and causing him to start. They sent chills up his back.

"I, um," Weard said, finally, then he lifted a flask to his lips and drank. He stepped back from the podium, staring intently at a space in front of him.

Tharv felt the candle in his pocket suddenly, a dead weight against his side. Without thinking, he walked briskly forward, past the righteous Aussie and the stunned Schafft, brushing shoulders with the frustrated Sophi. Berta opened her mouth when she saw him, but didn't speak.

Tharv could see it in his mind's eye, all the motes moving around, and Weard trying to manipulate them. Somehow, they were the key. Instinct told him the herbalist needed the candle.

Tharv brought the candle up before Weard. Clouds covered the sun. A strong wind blew through the clearing. Weard stopped his strange dance, eyes glued to the wick.

The candle burst to life, the flame barely flickering against the strong wind.

The crowd was silent for all of a half-second before someone cried out, then the roar exploded over them.

"The gift! Marrish has given Weard the gift! A miracle!"

Weard's face broke into a huge grin, and Tharv saw the tears streaming down his cheeks. For a second it was just the cooper and the herbalist, staring at each other. Then Tharv cast his eyes to the ground, and offered the candle to Weard. Weard wrapped his hand around Tharv's and lifted the candle up over their heads. The flame barely flickered.

Copyright 2005-2007 Eric Zawadzki and Matthew Schick. All Rights Reserved.
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