The Godless by Ben Peek Page A

his white robe stained in blood, his hands even more so.
    He was a handsome man. When he smiled, faintly and with a hint of mockery, she felt herself respond. “I believe you are the cartographer’s assistant, yes?”
    She said her name.
    â€œAyae,” he repeated. “You are obviously not from Mireea, with that name.”
    â€œSooia.” She felt awkward. “Some people struggle with pronouncing it. Few get it right the first time, unlike you.”
    â€œBut then I am not from here, just like you.” His bloodstained hands spread out before him and he paused. “I’m Bau.”
    â€œThe Healer.”
    â€œMost of the time,” he agreed. “Some days, a life is beyond mine to save.”
    â€œToday?”
    â€œNo, not today. Despite my distaste for this city, not today. Come, let us find you a chair and me a change of clothes and some water to wash myself.”
    Bau pushed the door to the tower open with a touch of weariness, the smell of dried flowers and chemicals washing over them. The first thing that Ayae noticed was that beneath the windows were rows of cages, most no larger than what could be held in two hands—though three, sitting on the ground, would have required two people to lift them. Although the sunlight washed over the old wooden tables placed there, each cage had a cloth draped over it, plunging the inside into darkness and keeping its contents from her sight. Around the cages were glass tubes, burners, pipes and beakers, each connected in an elaborate skeleton that, at the end, in a small pot, was the cause of the chemical smell that was so strong in the room. It was there that the hairless figure of Fo stood with a steel rod in his hand, gently stirring what he had created.
    â€œYou’re late,” he said, absently.
    â€œAnd you have a guest.” Bau turned to Ayae. “A moment, please. I need to clean myself up.”
    She nodded and was left alone with Fo, who regarded her intently with his scarred eyes, his right hand absently stirring. Finally, with a faint smile creasing his lips, he said, “It’s good to see you today. I thought that we may have to chase you, come the evening.”
    â€œI came here to talk.”
    â€œGood.” Lifting the metal rod out of the beaker, he tapped it on the side. “The God Ir knew every organ in every living creature. It was said that he had never had an original form, that he had shifted and changed to mirror whatever creature he came upon. He did this, or so his followers said, so that he could learn how better to kill the things he saw. It was this that made him so appealing to those who killed for a living, be they hunters of animals, or of men and women. It was said that they respected his knowledge and paid homage to it in their own work.”
    Gently, the Keeper lifted one of the black cloths off the cage next to him. In it, twisted upon itself in a coil of dark, earth brown, was a brown snake. Still—impossibly so, Ayae thought—the thick creature watched the hairless man as he pulled a small mouse out from beneath a table. He dropped it into his beaker, then lifted the soaking, squirming creature out and placed it through the bars of the snake’s cage.
    A moment later, it was gone.
    â€œKnowledge,” Fo said, as the snake settled back into stillness. “Awful things are done in its name.”
    Unsure what to say, Ayae was saved by the return of Bau who smiled slightly at her. “We might have a problem,” he said, changing the subject.
    â€œDid they find it?” Fo asked.
    â€œIn a way.” In a fresh white robe, the handsome man lowered himself into a chair. “ He was there.”
    Fo turned slowly from his snake, regarding the other man intently. “You didn’t try to fight him, did you?”
    â€œDo I look like a fool?”
    â€œYou look like a man who moments ago was covered in blood.”
    â€œI know the laws as