Pure

A hand shook Finten’s shoulder. He woke up, blinking in the semi darkness. No bad dreams tonight. He stretched and got up, threw on his clothes, and visited the outhouse. Then Finten made his way to the kitchen where the cook’s assistant had some odds and ends waiting for him and his men. FInten came back to the dorm room, munching on the handful of dried biscuits and the shriveled apple he’d grabbed, his mind running over the long list of things that needed to be accomplished this week.

Tonight they were finishing up emptying out the latrines in southwest quarter of the city, tomorrow they would have to switch back to working during the daytime. It was never easy to switch from working at night to working during the day, but there were times it couldn’t be avoided. Tomorrow they would be surveying street conditions in town. That could hardly be done in the dark.

Finten and his men finished eating, with very little talk between themselves. They gathered their gear, then headed out into the darkness to complete that night’s work.

They walked together, pushing the carts that they would be filling up with the human waste they removed from the latrines, till each pair of men split off to go to the latrine they were assigned to empty. FInten was paired with Ehir.

Ehir’s behavior had grown increasingly erratic since the presentation day earlier in the week. Finten was getting worried about him. Every now again, him or one of his men would hit a rough patch, where they had an especially difficult time coping with the conditions they had to deal with until the wyrm’s doom arrived. They were usually withdrawn and moody while they went through these rough patches. Ehir was not only withdrawn and moody, he snapped at his comrades over every little thing that irritated him. He had also been drinking. Every day when they all came back to the dorm for sleep, Ehir was so drunk, he could barely walk straight.

Finten glanced over at Ehir, who was shambling along beside him. “Do you want to go hunting tomorrow? We could all use a break after finishing this project.”

Ehir shook his head without looking at Finten. “Don’t patronize me, Finten. I’m fine.”

Finten let out a quiet breath. He didn’t know what to say. He knew Ehir was struggling with some internal demon, but if Ehir didn’t talk to him about what it was, he couldn’t help him.

Finten found his mind turning towards the other person he was especially worried over lately: Maigred.

Back in the old days, he had never understood why Caevah had picked Maigred to be one of her acolytes, she was the exact opposite of Caevah, who was the ideal hearth maiden. Gentle and quiet, always composed and always beautifully attired, Caevah never had so much as a hair out of place. She was never out of temper, and she never made a hasty decision. Whenever there was a decision to be made, she would do extensive research, carefully listen to anyone who had expertise, and carefully think over all her options. Once Caevah made up her mind, she carried her decision through with calm deliberation. Nothing could stop her.

As a child Maigred was known for quickly jumping to conclusions and having a fiery temper. She had once set a bat loose in class to spite one of the older acolytes. She often showed up to class without even thinking to comb her hair out from the previous night’s tangles, excited to try a new spell she had come up with the night before, or eager to discuss a different way of planting crops that she thought might work better than the carefully laid out plan Caevah had been following for the past fifteen years. However, she was also known for forgiving quickly and being unfailingly generous, which were desirable traits in a hearth maiden.

Finten found himself smiling, remembering the way Maigred had stood over him the other night, a storm in her eyes, all but demanding that he accept her offer of courtship. He was beginning to recognize in the opinionated, strong willed woman, what Caevah had seen in the impulsive, mischievous girl.

Caevah’s love for her people had been as stable and unmovable as the earth, Maigred’s love for her people could more aptly be compared to the ocean. Deep and wide, with shifting tides and intense currents, ready to sweep away anything that threatened those she cared for. She would have become a powerful hearth maiden. It was too bad she was tied to these lands, that she had been ruined by Hadeaon’s greed.

Still, Maigred would be a wonderful wife to some lucky man, as long as she didn’t bring Hadeaon’s wrath down on her head. Finten’s smile faded into a frown.

He and Ehir arrived at the latrine they were going to finish emptying tonight. They tied masks over their lower faces, which were large pieces of cloth folded so that sweet smelling herbs could be layered in its folds. There was no way to block the stench of decaying human waste out, especially for their sensitive tarasque senses, but it helped.

Ehir assisted Finten with lifting out the wooden seat in one of the six outhouses that were positioned over the pit that they were emptying. Finten peered down into the darkness, holding his breath. The only way to finish emptying out the latrine was to climb down into the muck and scoop up the sludge that was left at the bottom, bucketful, by bucketful, ferrying it up to be emptied into the cart. He shuddered.

Back in the old days, Caevah had come down to the latrines and using her hearth magic, had made the waste quickly to turn into a much less messy and smelly compost before it was emptied out of the latrine and distributed to the local farmers. Now the waste was spread in a field where it took years to compost on its own.

“Are you ready, then?” Ehir asked.

Finten glanced over his shoulder, Ehir had brought the rope so that he could lower Finten down into the pit. Finten forced himself to smile, before remembering that his mask covered it. He nodded, sat on the edge of the pit and swung his legs down into the dark opening.

Ehir shook the rope out. Finten grabbed the loop in the end, fitted it over the toe of his boot, took a deep breath, and gagged.

“Do you want me to go down first?” Ehir asked in an uncharacteristically impatient tone.

Finten shook his head. “No, I’ll go down first. You ready?”

“Yes.”

Finten breathed in a few short puffs of air and slipped of the edge of the pit.