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11th Day in the 4th of Ründ’s Months, Dry Season, in the 29th Year of King Bornidin the Young’s Reign, 126th Reckoned Year
There is a sweet and ancient song that plays when life gives way. A gentle breeze brings a whispered word with precious little to say. The sound of collapse kills off the quiet long sat with.
And the end comes quick and confident.
The soft face of death appears unbidden at the door, and she lets herself in without a whisper. She is darkness and stars and love and pain. She is all the things they say of her. A swift reaping of souls wrought by a pale hand, heavy laden with the burden.
And the Painful Lady comes silently and unseen.
From ‘Musings of the Hollow Trees’, Composed by Oyo-Po-No-Poyo, Hollow Tree, in the 90th Reckoned Year
When he awakens in the early morning, Petsune is greeted by the sound of a few other Deepbloods chatting nearby. Pard is speaking when Petsune first begins listening, “I heard he’s a drowned Coldor, and that’s why he hasn’t got a scale to his name - Saint’s know those backstabbing heathens all live in squalor. Guess worshiping the devil doesn’t pay well.”
Petsune lies on his rock-hard cot, facing the wall, his eyes open, though he doesn’t move. He can just barely hear Benalewit’s response, “Aye. He is a bit dull, I think. Not much depth to those waters.”
There’s a mixture of laughs and snickers, until Petsune rises from his cot. The jeering ends abruptly, leaving a silence in its wake, pregnant with unspoken insults. Petsune goes to collect his three meager possessions, and finds they are missing. He sighs loudly, then walks over to the quietly smirking pair. Petsune holds out his hand, hoping this can be over with little more than a laugh at his expense. He receives only icy stares from the two boys, so he says simply, “May I have my things, please?”
But Pard replies spitefully, “Recite some verse for us first. You should’ve learned enough by now, right? What with all the time you spent copying manuscripts in all of your churches.”
Benalewit chuckles a loud and deep laugh. Petsune tries to bite his tongue, but it seems to speak without his permission, “The sea is not deceived.”
“What?”
Petsune replies before he has time to consider his words, “It’s an old Coldor expression, ‘the sea is not deceived’. It means the Saints see all true intentions. And yes, I have learned quite a lot of verse.”
The two look at each other with wide eyes at Petsune’s brash words. Benalewit speaks first, in quiet tones, “He knows the verses of the Cleave… Only a Coldor would know something like that.”
Pard spits out an insult. “Devil worshiper!”
Petsune spots his things under the blanket of the cot, and he grabs them without asking. Pard continues and says, “See, I told you he’s one of them!” But Petsune simply walks away, leaving them to whisper their insults and slanders. He doesn’t really know why he said what he did, it just gets him so riled up whenever someone spews hatred at his people. Then, as always, he is forced to confront the facts: there were hundreds of witnesses who saw the Coldor Cleave attempt to kill the Fellpost of Broadfell Keep, and the North War which followed was a bloody one. The Coldor killed many but ultimately the Dintish navy’s prowess won out. Pet finds his stomach twisting as he admits these facts once again wishing he knew what happened that day. When he exits the sleeping quarters, the Second Sun is rising just above the horizon. He enters the sanctuary and walks down the aisle to the Window. He kneels in front of it and looks into the depths through crystal clear water, marveling at the unknown abyss below.
He prays a familiar prayer in a hushed and reverent voice, invoking the name of the Saints, “Nüm of life, guide me through your Saints: Delód, let me change like the sea. Wōde, let me steal only to give. Ründ, let me bend so that I might not break.” Then, in a breathless whisper he adds the fourth Saint of Coldor, almost out of spite, “Vésh, let their hatred end so that something else can begin.”
Petsune opens his eyes and stands. Suddenly, Father Haltur is there on the other side of the Window, beckoning him over. He begins speaking as though their conversation yesterday never occurred, “Petsune, I need you to make a trip to the markets today. The Church larder is looking a bit sad as of late. Zenisen has been complaining of, let’s see, how did he put it… Ah yes, ‘Little food an’ a lotta vittle weevils’. See if you can remedy his ailments, please.” Petsune is handed a list written in a beautiful script. He nods and turns to leave but Father Haltur speaks again, softly this time, “And Petsune? Do avoid arguing with the street criers, for both our sakes.” Petsune nearly smirks, then he is out the door and into the ferry.
Though every Church of the Deep is separated from its mass, some have more elaborate ferry systems than others. Thune Mass has a modest Church, possessing a simple raft: a large Gar lily in full bloom, carved from wood, making a raft out of the twelve-foot flower blossom. Petsune pulls himself the short distance across the water, back to the dock on Thune Mass. He considers how he has never seen the floating forests of Gar Hedron, or even a true Gar lily. His whole life has been spent right here on Thune Mass, at least all that he is able to remember. There are snatches, frozen moments that he can remember of being brought to Thune Mass - the gentle rocking of a ship, a tall tree against a gray sky, the warmth of a fire — but most is lost to time. Petsune steps off the ferry and begins walking toward the markets. With the Second Sun having fully risen, people have begun to emerge from houses and shops. The streets have yet to be filled by the clamor of crowds, the criers and vendors hawking their wares. The mass is still sleepy and sparse, just the way Petsune likes it. The market is straight ahead of Petsune, and he walks right into the midst of it. He seems to wander aimlessly through the stalls and shops, no particular destination in mind, simply observing.
Finally, after wandering some ways and enjoying the relative peace of early morning, he checks the list. In no hurry to finish his time away from Pard and Benalewit, he picks the first item on the list: lardfee. The fish market is easily found, with its strange and smelly catches. As he enters the stands that sell fish he sees huge bleeding chunks of unidentifiable creatures sitting on thick wooden tables. The meaty hunks bleed onto the table and into the street, and there are buzzets flying around everywhere. Petsune glances around, looking for a stand selling lardfee. He sees the ubiquitous stand selling milly juice — a market staple. He sees a small stall selling bucket-sized barrels of an oily substance, alongside reddish slabs of blubber. He walks on, looking for lardfee but more so just looking. A group of children run by chasing a billypug and dragging a thick bone on a string, and it almost knocks over a stack of the small barrels. The vendor shouts after them uselessly. A pair of royal guards, distinct in their blue colors, watches passively and the vendor waves them all off in an unappreciative gesture. Here is the stand both selling, and cooking, fish. There are the lumpy masses of lardfee, the lithe and more pricey runnykit, a few of the flat topandi, and some of both types of gipp, stout-nosed and snub-nosed. Lardfee is the cheapest fish in the market, but Deepbloods rarely indulge like the True Souls of the Sanctum do. Petsune requests a bundle of lardfee, and that it be added to the Churches tab. The stand owner picks out several cream-colored blobs the size of an arm, vaguely resembling a fish. They are wrapped in Gar-lily leaves and tied off with tower vine.
Petsune consults the list, feeling steadily better as he wanders. The next item is bread, which is back past the Church and on the other end of the mass. Petsune turns around and heads that way, not at all upset at having to backtrack. Along the way, Petsune sees a few stands selling exotic wares he doesn’t recognize, the hauls of recently docked merchant vessels. He passes a large stand toward the end of the fish market, still in the process of being opened. The table is covered in ice and features tentacles and eyeballs from creatures unknown. As he reaches the end, he looks up at a large fisher shark hung up in the air between two poles, customers walking underneath without so much as a glance. There is a street crier shouting out the usual fearful message; “Beware the savage Coldors! They worship the devil, Vésh! They can curse you with a look!” This time however, Petsune spots an ornamental Saintstone dagger of the Sanctum on the crier’s waist and Pet is slightly surprised. The churches all condemn and rebuke the Coldor, but few, if any, send out street preachers. Why is the Sanctum so against the Coldor? He thinks the question but then remembers that Broadfell Keep Is closely associated with the Sanctum, and Coldor’s Cleave tried to assassinate the Fellpost of Broadfell. Petsune thinks of his own time as a True Soul and feels himself getting slightly angry. Petsune looks away, the anger simmering inside. Instead, he glances up at the huge fisher shark hung as both a trophy and sign of the fish market. Petsune stares at the shark, looking into its massive bulbous eye, totally devoid of life. Despite being dead, Petsune can almost swear to seeing malice there, in the milky black eye. He shudders and looks away from the thick and ropey tentacles of its face. Below the fisher shark, there is a stand for charting boats. Pet gazes longingly at the patron currently purchasing passage off-Mass. He glances away, ashamed at having wished to leave those who took him in. The Church is his whole identity. Yet, he can’t help but wonder at what else is out there. His conflicting emotions play across his face as he walks underneath the fisher shark, leaving the fish markets.
He passes the ferry to the Church and continues on into the stands of freshly baked goods. There’s a small stand selling various plants and weeds used in making bread; a fruit stand selling grapples, whale fruit, and some other long thin fruit; and a vendor that has an impossibly large spread of delicious smelling treats strapped onto her chest like the stage of a Finger Weaver. When Petsune walks in front of her, she shouts out, “Milly cakes! Squidberry tarts!” and something else Petsune doesn’t catch. He is certain she can be heard all the way on the Royal Mass. Beside the boisterous vendor is a huge sprawling storefront with every kind of bread imaginable. Petsune walks away with a dozen Gar-lily wrapped loaves of dry bread. Out in the middle of the now bustling marketplace, Petsune checks the list Father Haltur gave him. Next item down is goat milk, which is past the baked goods market. He wanders in and out of the overburdened stalls, each seeming to burst with expertly made breads and treats.
Out of the market, Petsune passes an illustrious, though sparsely populated, stall selling Saintstone items. The man behind the counter is dressed in the finer clothes of a Fellbin of Broadfell. Petsune walks on, not bothering to even look at the expensive, white things, each one seeming to glow with radiant splendor. He moves past the stall and sees the small stage of a Finger Weaver telling their stories. Pet watches the mysterious person with their black veil as they dexterously manipulate puppets and props. The story seems to be The Boiler Shark and the Whaler’s Son, but it's already started so it’s hard to tell. Petsune finds himself entranced by the storyteller's art, as almost anyone is by a Finger Weaver. He stands watching the young student of the Tapestry move a thick black shark, and is baffled when steam and a faint red glow emanate from the lifelike puppet. Petsune marvels at the art form and watches as the puppet of the boiler shark consumes the tiny whaling ship that is somehow being manipulated by the Weaver’s other hand. He is in awe, transfixed by the performance until the glint of something bright catches his eye.
At first, he assumes it is from the stand of Saintstone items, but realizes it is in the other direction. Petsune squints and blocks the glare with his free hand, looking toward the place it came from. When he first looks, he doesn’t see the source, until he watches a small figure climb onto the canvas awning above a fruit stand and then leap over to an adjacent stall. It is the thief from yesterday, still in open possession of the gold offering plate. Without thinking, Petsune races after the retreating figure. He follows them away from the market stalls of baked goods and toward the low docks. The closer he gets to the drop off at the edge of the mass, the more he can feel every wave roll beneath the floating tangle of tower vines. The ground is always rising and sinking with the waves, but it is hardly noticeable in the center of the mass. Here on the outskirts, at the edge and on the docks, it is much more prevalent. He wonders briefly what solid ground would feel like, the cold snow of the Cleave, the craggy mountains of the Keep, or the islands in the unmapped west. Petsune does his best to bring his thoughts back around and remain inconspicuous as he tails the thief. When they leap off of a stand and onto a small schooner’s mizzenmast, Petsune audibly gasps.
The low docks are where all the smaller vessels dock, and the high docks are where the massive imposing ships make port. Petsune watches the acrobatic little thief leap from rope to mast to rigging, before remembering he is pursuing them. He hastily scrambles after, only to lose sight of them when they leap off a railing and slide down another ship's bright blue mainsail. He races down the dock, all pretense of stealth abandoned now. As he runs down the length of the low docks, he sees two whaling ships sporting their red sails, a medicinal ship with its white sails, and toward the edge of the port, there is a strange ship sporting the green sails of a merchant vessel. Yet there is no sign of the thief. Petsune becomes frustrated and disappointed, but he looks back at the strange merchant ship with characteristic green sails. It is unlike any other ship in the port, likely in any port. It is immediately evident that it is one-of-a-kind.
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