Chapter II
The Spring Festival was near. For the people of Varzoun it was an opportunity to gather, to be festive and merry, and to celebrate life: the leaves returning to the trees, the flowers in bloom, the bees buzzing. After every harsh winter came the warmth and comfort of a new season. Vendors would provide special new wares, taverns would host gatherings, and some who had the talent to do so performed feats of amazement in the town square.
Radonus had been among the people of Varzoun for four months. In that time he had become increasingly welcome as part of the city’s society. He appeared regularly at the tavern known as The Steed’s Neck, losing huge sums of money at card games with which he claimed to be unfamiliar, performing sleight of hand tricks for amused townsfolk, and telling tales of his travels.
“I have seen a giant,” he boasted. “He was fifteen feet tall and could split an oak log over his knee. He had more than twenty children, each by a different wife, for each wife would die in the birthing of his child. Some were not even human. But all the children were of a normal size, as a true giant must have giants for both parents, and no giantess exists within a thousand leagues of his home. I wintered with him but alas, there was a… misunderstanding between myself and his daughter, and I had to abruptly take flight.”
The men at the tavern and the serving girls applauded this little bit of fabulism, whether they believed it or not. The unreal nature of Radonus’ stories and his uncanny abilities did little to dispel the rumors that he possessed knowledge of sorcery, but his genial nature assured the people that perhaps he was no danger.
“Ay Radonus,” said Fil, raising a cup, “Will you will we be seeing you at the Spring Festival?”
“Most likely, if Cupek’s wife brings a tray of cakes,” he grinned, and everyone laughed. “I do imagine I could put on a display that some might fancy.”
“She’ll be bringing a plate of her famous honey turnovers!” Cupek cheered.
“Honey turnover? That’s ironic, seeing as how that’s what I said to… never mind,” Radonus said, provoking a laugh from the crowd. They raised another toast and drank deep.
Late that night, Radonus was gamboling home by the light of the moon. Woozy on his feet, he stopped to steady himself by leaning against a nearby building.
“Hey! Outsider!” a gruff voice called from across the street. Radonus looked up to see a pair of watchmen in armored breastplates tromping toward him, hands on their swords at their sides.
“What seems to be the problem, good sirs?” Radonus asked, his voice wobbling with liquid drunkenness.
“You tell us,” The first officer barked. “You’re out here causing a stir.”
“A what?” Radonus shambled up to the watchmen and peered at them through narrowed eyes. The streets were empty but for the three of them.
“How many cups of ale have you had tonight, old man?” sneered the second officer.
“‘Old man?’” Radonus chortled, “Nobody’s ever called me that in all my very respectable number of years. How old do you think I am?”
“Answer the question,” the guard sneered back.
“Is it a crime to be walking home?” the outsider snorted. “There’s nobody here, who am I harming?”
“You were causing a racket,” the first officer answered stiffly.
“Walking disruptively,” his companion added.
“Drunk and disruptive,” the first declared.
“You might be up to anything,” the second concluded. “We know you have mischief in you.”
“You’ll have to come with us,” the first said as they reached for his arms in stereo.
“Oh, I see,” Radonus said, resisting the grips of the officers, “It’s a crime to be Radonus, isn’t it? That’s what you’re saying.”
“I can’t tell whether it’s the drunkenness or your foreign accent that’s the reason I can’t understand a word you speak,” the first officer snarked.
“Don’t put up a fight,” the second officer said, “You’ll only make it worse for yourself.”
“Hardly a fair fight,” Radonus hiccupped, “There’s four of you and only one of me.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” called a woman’s voice from the darkness.
All three men turned to see Belthea, the barmaid from The Steed’s Neck. She was a tough, muscly ole broad if there ever was one, and commanded respect.
“You leave this man alone,” she demanded. “He’s done nothing, and is no harm to nobody. You’re just trying to play tough to compensate for your own shortcomings. Nobody’s impressed.”
“This is none of your affair, wench,” the first officer huffed. “Begone with you.”
“Try it,” Belthea approached, rolling up her sleeves. “You young green boys don’t seem to realize who you’re talking to. One word to your commander’s commander and you’ll spend the rest of your physical prime sweeping horse stables.”
The two officers looked at each other with stone-faced expressions that belied their sudden realization that perhaps they had overstepped their authority. Synchronously, they released Radonus – causing the inebriated man to tumble to the ground – and walked away.
“You just don’t get out of line, Outsider,” barked the second officer as he walked backwards away. “We’re always watching.”
“Best keep stepping,” Belthea spat back, picking her customer up from the dirty road. “There ya go, squire, up and easy.”
“Thank you madame,” Radonus woozily answered. “Good Radonus prides himself in choosing his friends well, and you have proven your truth.”
“Some folks around here will always be a little sour toward an outsider like you,” Belthea said as she slung his arm over her shoulder and guided him along the avenue. “Let’s get you back to your shop.”
It was the morning of the Spring Festival. Miekas arrived at Radonus’ shop. Miekas arrived at dawn, passing a disheveled and dazed-looking Belthea outside the door. He paid her no mind as he breezed into his employer’s shop.
“Sir, sir,” Miekas said excitedly, “All is in readiness for today!”
“Brilliant,” Radonus said, inhaling deeply. “Breathe in that fresh spring air, Miekas my lad. A new season is upon us, the gears that have been in motion shift just so… and on the lever, the hand of Radonus.”
“Of course, sir,” Miekas nodded. He was well accustomed to his boss saying such grandiose things and having not a clue what any of it was about.
The pair made haste to the town square, where a small platform had been erected, lugging behind them a chest of Radonus’ things.
“Miekas, take note,” Radonus began to speak, gesturing wildly and enthusiastically, “And by that I mean commit this to memory as I know your familiarity with letters is passing at best. First, the iron globes. Then, the juggling…”
“Of course, sir.”
“If I’m feeling feisty, I might favor the crowd with a verse of ‘The Wide River Rolls,’” Radonus noted, speaking of an anthemic song that was famous in taverns far and wide, in Varzoun and beyond. “Then it might be a good time to demonstrate the living silk.”
“The living…?” Miekas tilted his head.
“Have I not demonstrated this one for you? It was a favourite of the Countess of Shashalla, when I… well, never mind. Here, let me know you.” He took from his chest a long silk scarf with a pattern of gold and purple curlicues on it. “First, I…”
But before he could do anything with it, a gust of wind came up and blew it out of his hands. It flew a few yards and landed at the feet of a young lady who was watching the vendors set up. She picked it up to examine its design.
“I beg your pardon miss,” Radonus came jogging up, breathless, “But my scarf appears to have taken flight from my hand in this lovely breeze. May I…?”
“Of course,” said the woman, her cheeks blushing. “I was just admiring…”
“Only a natural instinct, this piece was gifted to me by the finest weavers in all of Tiniuk,” Radonus said, lightly cupping the girl’s slender hands in a gesture of thanks as she passed the fabric over. “It might perhaps be for sale if you’re interested after the festival, but I have need of it now.”
“That would be… nice,” the girl smiled. She played with her ginger-colored braid a moment, coquettishly.
Radonus offered a gallant little bow and said, “Be sure to stop by my demonstration afore noon, and see what this fine material is capable of.” He wiggled his eyebrows and offered a grin, and she covered her mouth to giggle despite herself.
“I surely will,” she said with a smile as he backed his way through the crowd to his spot.
The sharp fanfare of trumpets rang out and stirred the crowd. Heads turned to see the musicians and retainers lining the Kingsway, the path that led westward from Varzoun’s town square to the royal manner, the residence of King Aovan. The building, visible in the distance some way back afield from the green lawn of the compound, was the largest structure in Varzoun by a wide margin, but would merely have been an impressive house, and not a castle, in many other kingdoms.
Banners flapped in the breeze and the horns continued to sound as the sauntering clip-clops of horses drawing an ornate carriage up the road. The party stopped just short of a platform that had been erected. The crowd, the people of Varzoun, gathered close, knowing what was about to occur.
From out of the carriage, dressed in white fabric and gleaming ceremonial regalia stepped the King, Aovan II. He was a strapping man in his mid-thirties, well built and with a nicely-groomed beard, a moest crown atop his head. Standing on the ground, he reached up to help his wife, Shayann, down from within the enclosed vehicle. The queen was beautiful, with a purple gown highlighting her hourglass figure and long dark hair adorned with a tiara. The royal couple waved to the people, who cheered them on. The sovereigns were quite popular with their country, even given they had been reclusive all winter.
The King took a moment to smile and wave at the crowd, climbing onto a small platform that had been erected for the occasion, adorned with banners of his royal seal, a white bird set against a yellow sun. The Queen joined him by his side. Raising his arms, palms out in a gesture of hospitality, he projected his voice loudly and boldly.
“My beloved people of Varzoun! Another spring is upon us, another bleak winter has passed. Now is the time for community, to embrace one another as friends and anticipate the new! I am so excited for what this season brings, the renewal and possibility of spring and summer, the times for which we live and brave the harsher seasons. May you all feast and be merry… I am with you! I declare the Spring Festival open!”
More cheers from the crowd, as the monarch and his wife waved to their people, with the Queen blowing kisses and sending salutations, before they clambered back down and retired to their carriage.
Radonus watched from his station at the back of the masses, through squinted eyes. In months of being amongst the people of Varzoun, he had not yet seen the King until this day. He smiled slightly.
“They say,” a nearby reveler noted to his companion, “The king and queen often walk the festival in the guise of townsfolk, to experience it the same way we do, to avoid being harassed.”
“It’s true,” nodded the companion. “I saw them last year. I knew it was them, too, but I didn’t bug ‘em because I figured, you know.”
“Yeah, of course,” the other agreed. “Best to let ‘em think they’re getting away with it.”
The two tittered and ribbed each other. Radonus continued his preparations as the sun climbed higher in the sky.
“Good people,” the voice of Radonus rang out, hoarse at first, as the noonday sun beat down on him. “Gather around, gather around, you must be close, for the eyesight of old Radonus is not as sharp as once it was! I must see you, I must have you, gather around!” People turned to see the outsider having climbed atop his stage, standing with his slight hunch, next to a nondescript looking chest.
“There you are, at last, friends, there I see you! Thank you, thank you, to the utmost degree, for welcoming me into your fair city. It has been a long, long spell since old Radonus has had a place to call his own, but since I arrived here, I have received nothing but the fondest reception from the good people of Varzoun. It has truly been a gift to share this little corner of the map, and now I have some gifts to share with you all!”
His voice became somewhat more clear and well-projected as he continued his patter. “As many of you know, I have been cursed, or blessed, with a traveler’s life. I have meandered from one spot to the next, restlessly searching and seeking to sate my curiosity. I have seen much and learned much from many different places and peoples, and I bring that to you, the Wonders of Afar!”
At that, he tugged a rope and down came a banner with those words written on it as a slogan.
“This old noggin, these weary old eyes, have seen and learned a veritable fortune in experience, much of which is sadly gone or lives only in my memory. Oh, to show you the fire-breathing lizards of Terwanna, one of which I once had caged but slipped its pen somewhere on my journey, or to transport for you the shadow-singers of the Caddo River Delta, but alas these are treasures that must remain obscure and distant. What I do have for you is merely a sampling of skills and talents that have been cultivated outside far beyond the venerable walls of this great city – this most excellent kingdom of Varzoun.”
With that, he opened the chest and removed what appeared to be a heavy iron sphere, which he set down at his feet.
“Many years ago, I summered at a training camp for the Knights of Fadiam, an order renowned for their fearsome strength and martial ability. They are not quite as known for their hospitality – certainly they did not offer as warm a reception as the good people of Varzoun – and so to earn my keep I had to train alongside them. One of their most extreme rituals is the rite of the iron globe, meant to develop strength and a steely will. I was tasked – every day at dawn for a month, before I could breakfast, I had to heave this globe…” he stooped to lift it, visibly struggling, “…into a pit of sand. And those who have frequented my shop know I do enjoy a hearty breakfast.”
This remark provoked a smattering of laughs.
“This was years ago and I was a younger, more vital man, but nobody would ever have mistaken me for one of the Knights of Fadiam. The challenge to me was that I had to throw the globe further every day, or be thrown out of camp and onto my bony old behind into the wilderness.”
He stooped to lift the globe, his arms visibly struggling with its weight.
“But if you are to learn one fact about Radonus, it is that he is one with the will to survive that surpasses all others. I was determined. On day one, I could barely do more than drop the globe at my feet…”
He dropped the object before him and it landed with a heavy thud on the wooden planks of the stage.
“…but by the month’s end, I had tossed it clear across the sand pit to the grass on the other side.”
He crouched down and, with a theatrical heave, threw the iron globe high into the air. The people in the crowd let out a communal gasp as the heavy object flew high above Radonus’ head. Without a glance, he caught it in his hands as easily as one would a sporting ball, and held it at arm’s length above his head, to some applause.
“Yes, yes, Radonus still has some of the strength he once had then. Stronger than he looks.” He spun the ball on his index finger. “Just don’t ask me to do that every day for a month.” More polite chuckling.
He set the iron globe aside where it sat on the stage, then returned to his trunk to dig through.
“Another place I visited was the Queendom of Maqia,” he said as he removed a quartet of hand-sized balls. “The ruler there, Queen Azumi, is fond of clowns, singers and mummers of all sorts. Radonus is not the sort to curry favor, of course, but one must sometimes make the right connections. It surely never hurts to have a royal friend.”
He began to juggle the four balls to a small smattering of applause. “The hardest part, however, when you have audience with a royal, is to bring them something they have never seen before. Juggling, shmuggling… who cares, right? Everyone and their nephew juggles. A snore.”
He continued to pass the balls through the air, in a high arc, from one hand to another. When his left hand was unoccupied, he quickly snapped his fingers, and one ball ignited into flames. The crowd “oohed” in surprise.
“Ow, ow, ow,” he said flatly and without much conviction each time the fiery ball passed through his hands. Then he snapped again and a second of the four balls came aflame, and the crowd gasped. He snapped twice more and the other two balls lit up, and the audience was now suitably impressed, cheering and laughing.
“Four fiery balls are much better than one,” Radonus explained, “For it allows one’s hand to grow accustomed to the fire. Try it, you might even like it!”
As he continued to juggle, the audience applauded more. It seemed he had them in the palm of his hand.
“Oh, but is that good enough? Is that special enough for the Queen of Maqia? Displease her, waste her time, and you will spend a week in an underground cell – at minimum! What to do, what to do?”
Radonus, with great exaggeration, eyeballed the iron globe at the corner of the stage.
“No, no, you can’t,” Radonus said, imitating what some of the audience may have been thinking. “That thing has got to weigh as much as a man!”
He continued to juggle the fiery balls as he inched over to the stage. Around and around they went as he used his feet to dribble the iron globe into position.
“Hup… hup…” he said theatrically, “And…”
With all four flaming balls in the air, he then hurked the iron globe over his head and added it to the mix, passing three regular-sized juggling balls and an iron globe in circulation. The crowd exploded with amazement – clapping, whooping and cheering – as he continued the circuit. Radonus then turned his back to the trunk, and one by one, threw each of the juggling balls over his shoulder to land squarely in the chest, ending with the iron globe, whose size caused the trunk to close itself. A final burst of smoke emerged from the crack between the chest and its lid, before the fire was seemingly snuffed out. The audience erupted it uproarious applause.
“Thank you, thank you,” bowed Radonus. “There’s no real trick to that, just years of practice and patience. The number of times I singed my eyebrows – and certain other delicate parts – cannot be counted on one hand.”
More laughter.
“For my next display, I would love to show you the properties of the living silk of Tiniuk…” Radonus reached into the sleeve of his robe to pull out the fabric. “Which… hold on, what’s going on out there?”
There was some small commotion in the crowd. Radonus hopped down from the stage.
“Step aside, step aside,” he pushed his way through to where some of the people were gathered around a person who had fallen to the ground. It was the ginger girl from earlier.
“What’s wrong?” Radonus asked.
“She just fell!” one of the villagers said.
“She can’t breathe!” said another. Indeed, she appeared to be gasping for her life.
“What is it? Is it the plague?” a frightened milkmaid cried out. Her chest was red, and welts were developing along her throat. These were telltale signs of the feared plague, but seemingly erupting on her body at an accelerated rate. Sweat drenched her brow.
“Miekas! Miekas!” Radonus called out. Soon, the boy had appeared by his employer’s side. “Go to my office. On my desk is a jar of green balm. Bring it at once!”
“Yes, sir!” Miekas said, then dashed off.
“Give her room, give her room,” Radonus commanded the crowd, and they did as they all feared exposure to the disease. Radonus fanned her to try to give her air to breathe.
A moment later, Miekas returned with the jar. Radonus unlatched it and took the contents in his hand, slathering it on the girl’s neck and chest. The crowd murmured with concern.
Soon, however, the girl was able to breathe deep. The redness on her skin faded. Her eyes opened.
“Are you with us? Can you speak?” Radonus asked, his voice tinted with grave concern.
“I… I am!” she wheezed at first, then spoke more clearly. “I… feel better!”
The crowd gasped, then roared with cheer. This was unbelievable, inconceivable. A huge commotion stirred. Radonus helped her to her feet. “Someone get this girl to bed, she must rest, and if her symptoms return, give her more of this,” she handed the jar to the girl as another villager helped her away.
Radonus walked back through the crowd, many sharing their congratulations and gratitude, some utterly confused as to what they had just seen.
“Good people,” Radonus said as he climbed back onto the stage, sitting with his legs dangling from it. “I think in light of this, it is best that we end the demonstration here. Go, enjoy the festival, and be well. I have no doubt this was an isolated case. Radonus thanks you.”
Another round of applause occurred, and someone shouted “Cheers to Radonus! Cheers to the healer!”
Radonus blushed and waved off the praise.
“Please, please, ‘twas nothing,” he said modestly. The crowd finally dispersed.
Radonus looked up to the blue sky and grinned.