worried I might
stumble. After a spell he remarked, “I know these woods intimately. You must
not attempt to wander like this alone, however. Be it day or night.”
“I don’t suppose
I’d be inclined to, sir,” I said, then recalled with chagrin how I’d said the
same thing about ingesting unfamiliar herbs. To support my claim a little
better, I added, “Particularly after some of the reading I did today.”
“What might that
have been?”
“The tree devils.”
He laughed softly.
After a moment, he asked me to describe what I’d read.
“Well.” I cleared
my throat. “They’re an ancient tribe of Indian spirits, tall and slim and
handsome, and they disguise themselves as saplings. They live in the deep
woods, and they run very fast. You can catch them moving at the edge of your
vision sometimes.” I looked up at the leaves, trying to discern their shadows
from the sky. “A tree devil might toy with a lost traveler, leading him deeper
into the woods with false trails and strange sounds. Once that happens, the
traveler will never return. The devils might also steal children, or even young
women.”
“Do you find that
frightening?”
The trees seemed
to thin out ahead. I had begun to hear the strange sound of frogs, and I was
catching larger and larger glimpses of the black sky between the dense, low
foliage and the forest canopy.
“I might,” I
confessed. “Say, if I were out here alone, and I heard any strange sound at
all. Then again,” I laughed, “All sounds are strange to me, out here. Even my
own feet snapping twigs as I walk is likely to startle me…”
My attention
turned to the view that opened up before us. We approached an open space I
first had trouble making sense of in the dark. Then I saw that it was a marsh,
half covered in tall grass painted pewter by the half-moon and swaying in the
scant breeze. Ink-black swaths of water marbled the landscape, reflecting the
stars. The forest trimmed the marsh all along its edge, rising up beyond in
gentle hills. It was a peaceful scene, pleasantly eerie, and the chorus of
frogs and crickets was more musical than I would have imagined.
We had stopped
before the marsh’s edge, still sheltered by the trees. The earth we stood on
ended abruptly several feet ahead, dropping off at the edge of the still water.
“It is good to
hear you laugh, William.”
I looked at him,
surprised.
“I am sorry these
circumstances are difficult for you.”
Words failed me,
for the circumstances had only been truly difficult in one incredibly
unexpected way, and I was fairly sure that was not what he meant.
When I said
nothing, he continued. “You must feel you have suffered a great injustice. You
are no criminal. And yet you have been bound to servitude, confined to a dark
cottage removed from everything you have ever known, taken from your work and
isolated from your friends and peers.”
Uncertain of what
to say, I stared helplessly out at the marsh. At first, what he said sounded
absurd, for I was in no such dire straits. But then I realized it was true! I was a bound servant. Beyond Merrick’s watch, I had the same basic rights as a
slave. Why did I never seem to think of that? How was it that I never burned at
the thought that I was not allowed to return to the city if I wished? Did it
not bother me that my Fate lay in another’s hands? Why was I not filled with
bitterness and despair knowing that I was obligated to serve and please
Merrick?
The Wall creaked.
I realized warily that it was starting to feel more like a floodgate.
“When I asked the
court for an apprentice,” Merrick said, “I did not know that I would be
complicit in the unjust treatment of an innocent.”
“W-well,” I said
awkwardly. “I was quite drunk and disorderly…”
“That charge is
not worth a young man’s life.”
But it’s only
five years, I protested in my mind. After a startled pause I tried to throw
that thought behind the Wall, but it didn’t quite go.
stumble. After a spell he remarked, “I know these woods intimately. You must
not attempt to wander like this alone, however. Be it day or night.”
“I don’t suppose
I’d be inclined to, sir,” I said, then recalled with chagrin how I’d said the
same thing about ingesting unfamiliar herbs. To support my claim a little
better, I added, “Particularly after some of the reading I did today.”
“What might that
have been?”
“The tree devils.”
He laughed softly.
After a moment, he asked me to describe what I’d read.
“Well.” I cleared
my throat. “They’re an ancient tribe of Indian spirits, tall and slim and
handsome, and they disguise themselves as saplings. They live in the deep
woods, and they run very fast. You can catch them moving at the edge of your
vision sometimes.” I looked up at the leaves, trying to discern their shadows
from the sky. “A tree devil might toy with a lost traveler, leading him deeper
into the woods with false trails and strange sounds. Once that happens, the
traveler will never return. The devils might also steal children, or even young
women.”
“Do you find that
frightening?”
The trees seemed
to thin out ahead. I had begun to hear the strange sound of frogs, and I was
catching larger and larger glimpses of the black sky between the dense, low
foliage and the forest canopy.
“I might,” I
confessed. “Say, if I were out here alone, and I heard any strange sound at
all. Then again,” I laughed, “All sounds are strange to me, out here. Even my
own feet snapping twigs as I walk is likely to startle me…”
My attention
turned to the view that opened up before us. We approached an open space I
first had trouble making sense of in the dark. Then I saw that it was a marsh,
half covered in tall grass painted pewter by the half-moon and swaying in the
scant breeze. Ink-black swaths of water marbled the landscape, reflecting the
stars. The forest trimmed the marsh all along its edge, rising up beyond in
gentle hills. It was a peaceful scene, pleasantly eerie, and the chorus of
frogs and crickets was more musical than I would have imagined.
We had stopped
before the marsh’s edge, still sheltered by the trees. The earth we stood on
ended abruptly several feet ahead, dropping off at the edge of the still water.
“It is good to
hear you laugh, William.”
I looked at him,
surprised.
“I am sorry these
circumstances are difficult for you.”
Words failed me,
for the circumstances had only been truly difficult in one incredibly
unexpected way, and I was fairly sure that was not what he meant.
When I said
nothing, he continued. “You must feel you have suffered a great injustice. You
are no criminal. And yet you have been bound to servitude, confined to a dark
cottage removed from everything you have ever known, taken from your work and
isolated from your friends and peers.”
Uncertain of what
to say, I stared helplessly out at the marsh. At first, what he said sounded
absurd, for I was in no such dire straits. But then I realized it was true! I was a bound servant. Beyond Merrick’s watch, I had the same basic rights as a
slave. Why did I never seem to think of that? How was it that I never burned at
the thought that I was not allowed to return to the city if I wished? Did it
not bother me that my Fate lay in another’s hands? Why was I not filled with
bitterness and despair knowing that I was obligated to serve and please
Merrick?
The Wall creaked.
I realized warily that it was starting to feel more like a floodgate.
“When I asked the
court for an apprentice,” Merrick said, “I did not know that I would be
complicit in the unjust treatment of an innocent.”
“W-well,” I said
awkwardly. “I was quite drunk and disorderly…”
“That charge is
not worth a young man’s life.”
But it’s only
five years, I protested in my mind. After a startled pause I tried to throw
that thought behind the Wall, but it didn’t quite go.
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