FSE

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Human manure should have been the first thing to sting her nostrils but instead there was the tang of freshly burnt wood. The voices of people did not call out and there were no children running by. The houses toward the center of the village seemed to be huddled together, as if for warmth. Instead of a fountain or a well there was a building that was larger than any she had seen before. Solid, tall, and entirely white, the building gave the appearance of some implacable bastion of manners, etiquette, and disapproval.

Rhea approached the center of town in a daze of wide-eyed awe. The rest of the world seemed to fade from her senses as she got closer and in her heart she could feel a pang of guilt for every selfish thing she had ever done. She would likely have drifted right through the front doors had something else not gotten in her way and sent a jolt of sour menace straight through her.

For several unending seconds, Rhea wrapped her arms around herself and tried with all of her might not to scream. Acidic animal panic burned through her veins and her stomach clenched in an effort to expel everything and make her lighter. Something stung her skin and she smelled burning hair. Cries of pure anguish washed along the land, spreading out from a central point like ripples along the water after a stone was cast in. Instincts began to send strength to her legs as they wailed at her to Run! Run! Run!

"Are you okay, Miss?"

The voice snapped Rhea out of her stupor and she gasped. A girl in plain dark fabric and haunted gray eyes looked at her with concern.

"Y-yes, thank you," she managed uneasily. Drawing back her hood allowed a light breeze to chill the sweat on her face and she looked around for whatever had set off her sixth sense. With little effort, she realized she was standing next to a large wooden pillar. The signs of many bonfires were scattered all around it and she spotted several symbols that were often used by the cult of The One. The center-most symbol was an all-seeing eye and it made her want to cover herself.

"It's not good to stare at the pyre, Miss," the girl told her.

"I'm sorry," she suddenly remembered to say as she gave a poor imitation of a smile. "I'm not from around here."

"Oh, yes," the girl said with a shy nod. "This is our Purity Pyre. It keeps us safe from the demons. You should come into our church and pray to The One for protection." The girl's dull voice warmed at the mention of her god and Rhea tried not to shiver, flinch, or commit any other disrespectful gesture at the thought of it.

"Yes," she lied pleasantly, "I might do that. Say, do you know Lyle-the-Messenger? I have a letter for him to-" A gasp cut off her words as the girl's face grew ashen. Then she turned and ran as fast as she could to the doors of the church. She slammed the knocker three times, made a complicated little gesture with curtsy, and then pushed one of the double-doors open and went inside.

Okay, that wasn't creepy or anything. Rhea turned to look back at the purity pyre and shivered a little despite her effort not to. I guess they're pretty serious about that sort of thing here. Maybe I should get away from the church and into a den of sin, or something. Her gaze traveled along the lanes of buildings until she saw the telltale signs of a larger building and a place to tie up horses.

Rhea's legs moved quickly as she approached what she hoped to be a tavern. Upon closer inspection she saw a sign that showed a flagon of something and a loaf of bread behind it. _Shouldn't I smell baking bread or something?_Curiosity drew her along her path and she pressed the door open.

The scent of stale everything told her that she needed to thank Baba Ginger for the trail rations she had packed. The entire place was a dull gray and the dirty windows muted the sunlight as it tried to stream into the place. Rhea tried to ignore the creepily silent tavern as she stepped around a few empty tables to the bar where a forlorn looking man cleaned a pristine glass.

"Good-day," his voice rumbled in the tone of one who did not want to disturb someone who might be sleeping in the next room.

"Hello, sir," Rhea said carefully. Then she decided some of her tact could go throw itself into a pond and almost drown. "Is this place always so quiet?"

"During a praying time," the man said reverently, "all is quiet."

"And ... when is a praying time?" she decided to ask.

"Anytime a soul passed through the holy pyre," the man calmly explained, "there is a praying time."

"So, a witch is burned and then you pray for their soul?" Rhea asked as she tried not to fidget too hard at the memory of what she had felt at the pyre.

"It is so," the barkeep said with a sad nod. "All souls return to The One, but the world is a dark and contaminating place. We dirty ourselves with passion and pain and The One must wash us in his cleansing fire. Thus it is our duty to be as pure as we can make ourselves. It is the reason we pray. It is the reason we avoid temptation and rich food. It is the reason we burn our dead and purify the unclean. We are the savers of souls in this bland and wretched place."

Okay ... that's it. Find Lyle. Get out of here. Never come back. In that order.

"Sir," Rhea managed to say politely through the strain in her muscles, "do you know Lyle-the-Messenger?"

"Aye," he said with a grim nod, "all too well."

"I'm looking to visit him," she said. "Can you please tell me where he is?"

"You must speak with Father Lorell," the barkeep told her with a smile that actually looked a little hopeful. "He knows all the people of this land and guides us in all we say and do."

"Thank you," Rhea told him but then she paused. "Uhm ... is he leading the prayers for the soul right now?"

"That is likely." The barkeep nodded firmly. "He leads us by example."

Of course he does. "And, why are you here and not there?"

"Someone must always be here to receive people," he told her with a somber smile. "My son was here this morning and we traded places. My wife shall return shortly and then I shall go to pray. You are fortunate; this is the last day of prayers. Soon, the people will return to their homes. Do you care for anything?"

"What's the house special?" she asked.

"Beer and bread," he told her flatly.

"Uhm ... one of those, please."

*****

The hours that followed were an endurance test for the nerves. Rhea was handed a brick of something remotely food related and ended up having to soak it in her flat beer in order to make it soft enough to chew. When the barkeep's wife arrived, she had some quiet words with her husband and then set to the task of profaning dinner.

Rhea felt ashamed as she pushed some small copper coins towards her hostess. The bowl of soup had some vegetables in it but no meat. Flavor seemed to offend these people so she waited for the woman to go into the back before she took one of her Baba Ginger's baked rations from her picnic basket and shoved it into her mouth. A rush of pure joy poured into her as if the place had been slowly leeching it out of her. Then she returned to the endless task of waiting for the sun to go down.

It was eerie how the wife of the barkeep could cook food without any scent wafting out of the kitchen. The only positive thing she discovered was that the privy was also bland and without scent. Rhea was failing in her task of contemplating anything else when the front door opened and several somberly dressed men stepped inside. It occurred to her that the red cape and cowl she was wearing stood out garishly and likely offended everyone around her. This thought both amused and concerned her.

"A plate for myself and the missus, Ben," one of the bland men said to the owner of the tavern.

"Aye, John," the big man replied.

"Are the prayers finally over?" Rhea asked the newcomers and they all looked her way as if she were an offensive thing.

"This duty has been completed," John told her with eyes of solid granite, "but I cannot put down my burden until I lay down for my final rest."

"I see," Rhea nodded as she shied away from the man's maniac stare. "Uhm ... do you think it would be possible for me to visit Father Lorell tonight?" The man's eyes grew harder but his expression became curious. Rhea tried to remember how to smile like an innocent girl and met with mixed results. "I was told he knows how to help lost souls find their way." The last words caused the man's stare to go from hostility to concern as he nodded slowly and took a deep breath.

"Aye ... that he does."

Ben the barman put a bowl of edible seeds onto the bar and set several drafts of flat beer next to them. "He often lingers after to tend to those who cannot leave their sorrow behind. If you go to the church now then you may catch him."

"Thank you," Rhea told him honestly, "I'll do that." She hopped down from her barstool and dashed from the tavern before the conversation could turn less pleasant. Every moment that she spent here seemed to reveal new and completely not exciting reasons to leave. If finding Father Lorell let her find Lyle then she could escape before her personality was drained away. Maybe she could even find some nice sheep to stare at for an afternoon.

Finding her way back to the front of the church was an easy thing to do but stepping across its threshold took an effort of will to complete. The sharp stabbing energy of the pyre lingered inside of the church but was more spread out. Still, the feeling of being judged seemed to press down on her like a mountain of rock-covered pillows, and she had to close all of her supernatural senses in order to continue moving forward.

The inside of the church was a cavernous marvel of human engineering. A least four of Baba Ginger's huts could have fit into this place and Rhea was pretty sure there would still be room to spare. Two rows of seven benches tilted forward toward an altar. Sacred cloths and a scroll like a bolt of cloth stood in a lonesome center. The scent of burnt incense covered most of the stink but the entire village had been in this room together for days ... and Rhea could feel it.

A small cluster of worshipers were on their knees while a man in a gray robe stood over them and uttered a blessing. Rhea took a deep breath and held it as she went over to where they were gathered. She lingered unobtrusively until they had finished and then she moved to where the man could see her.

"I sense a soul in search of answers," the man finally said to her as she approached.

"Are you Father Lorell?" Rhea asked and the old man nodded. "At last." She huffed out a relieved breath.

"Have you journeyed far, young one?" the old priest asked kindly.

"Yes, Father," she nodded, and a real smile settled onto her face.

"That is good," Father Lorell acknowledged with a wise nod, "A long road will teach you more about yourself than a hundred years of quiet introspection."

"That's what I keep telling people!" Rhea blurted out without meaning to. "Everyone keeps telling me I should just stay at home where it's safe! But how can I learn if I don't get out into the world and see things?"

Father Lorell smiled, and Rhea felt his warmth pour into her. Perhaps it was only because the whole village seemed devoid of life, but being close to the father made Rhea feel that everything would be alright. Muscles relaxed as a small avalanche of tension tumbled away. "What has this journey taught you so far?"

"I really took a bunch of things for granted, back home," she confessed. "When I get back there I'm going to hug my Baba and try not to complain too much when I have to go watch the sheep."

"You gain wisdom," the old man nodded warmly. "What else do you seek here?"

"I've been looking for Lyle-the-Messenger," Rhea admitted and she gave a little sigh as she thought of his warm hands on her skin and the intensity of his eyes. "Everyone seems to have heard of him but no one seems to know where he is."

"Ah," the priest breathed with a knowing nod. "You would like to see him?"

"Yes ... please, Father." Rhea tried to keep the pleading out of her tone but there was too much excitement rushing through her at the thought of seeing Lyle again. Easy girl ... easy. Don't start hyperventilating ... show a stoic face to the world.

In answer, Father Lorell took up his staff and put a cloak over his shoulders. He then made a gesture toward the doorway and the pair of them set off.