Song of Ashes

38: Fleas

Sarka woke with a start, feeling the weight of someone's eyes upon her and expecting to see a ghostly face hovering a hair's breadth from hers. But when she opened her eyes she saw it was Konn in his rough-spun robe, smiling at her. She could not tell the hour.

"If you sleep much longer, you will miss your chance for breakfast."

She sat up and wiped the drool from her cheek with a sleeve, looking blearily around the room. If it was morning, it made no difference in here; there were no windows.

The priest glanced down at Sarka's pillow and observed, "You have fleas."

"What?" Sarka looked down and saw a black dot wriggling on her pillowcase. As she watched, it sprang toward her. She leapt to her feet, shaking off her threadbare skirt, and almost knocked Konn over.

She'd been itchy, of course, but that tended to come with the territory when one went unwashed and slept on dirty floors. She paid little attention to her appearance or her hygiene and had not noticed her minuscule companions.

"Breakfast first. Then, I shall send out the laundry...let's hope the sheet saved the pallet. You'll need a bath, I'm afraid."

Sarka thought of her small savings with a twinge of fear. She had been too cautious with her coin to spend the copper it would have taken her to get a bath, and she couldn't remember the last time she had had more than a quick scrub with a rag.

Konn beckoned her over to the table, where he had set out a breakfast of toasted bread and apples. There was a dark drink, too, steaming hot, with a savory smell that invited her to taste it. When she did, she found it bitter.

"Coffee," Konn explained, smiling at her grimace. "It takes some getting used to, but there is no better thing to wake the senses for a day of work. The rich drink it with sugar."

"Sugar?" Sarka already had a mouth full of bread.

"We have none here, but perhaps you can sample it someday. There were sweets aplenty in Kogor-"

Sarka put her bread down.

"...in Kogoren. When I was there."

"You knew my work. You knew where I came from. You're Kogorian, too."

From his expression, Sarka could tell that Konn had not planned to reveal this to her-at least not so soon. She wondered if it was his kinship that had prompted him to follow her, to invite her into his god's temple. "I have been long away from her shores," he said.

Sarka looked around the spartan chamber. "And now you serve a foreigner's god. When did you leave? They said no one had gone before me."

"I left long before you, Sarka, and quite by accident."

"Tell me."

Konn opened his mouth, but looked away and sighed. "I will. I will...but I have kept my secrets for a long time, and I would keep them a while longer."

Sarka picked up her chunk of bread again, tore some off with her teeth, chewed, and scowled.

"Tell me what happened yesterday on the beach," said Konn.

This priest seemed kind enough. He had taken her in, after all. But he had tried to hide his heritage. What did he want from her? She looked around again, searching for some clue, some hint as to why he'd fled his homeland.

"Sarka?"

Meeting his gaze, Sarka swallowed her bread. "I'm leaving today. You don't need to know anything about me."

"You need not fear me. You have my word."

"The word of a stranger."

"A fellow Kogorian. It's worth something." Konn leaned toward her over the table, but Sarka would not look at him. She sipped her coffee again. It was awful. When she did not respond, Konn changed tactics. "They followed you, didn't they? The Beloved."

Hearing someone else say the worlds chilled Sarka to the bone. She set her cup aside and made to stand, gripped by the need to get away, the need to be on her own, free to think, to fight. "I'm leaving."

Konn's hand fell to cover hers, arresting her movement. She looked down at his hand. Her own trembled beneath it. He said, "Sarka, please. You aren't alone. Let me help you."

"Why?" she whispered. "You don't know me."

Konn pressed her hand gently. "I do. I do, a little. Besides...I serve the god of the hopeless, the lost, and the unfortunate. It is my sacred duty to help you, Sarka. A sacrament."

Sarka looked up at Konn at last. She searched his face, trying to find any hint of deception, of malice. She saw nothing but warmth and concern. Her legs gave way, and she fell back into her seat, letting out her breath in a sigh.

"How did you escape them, Sarka? How, when they drove a ship full of souls to its doom?"

Sarka shook her head. She was not ready to tell this part of her story, no matter how honest this priest seemed.

Konn waited, but when she maintained her silence, he said, "Very well. We both of us have our secrets, then. Perhaps there will come a time to share them. Until then...a bath."