Chapter 64: The Exorcist's Intern

Chapter 64: The Exorcist's Intern

“I’m not buying anything and won’t sell anything for you!” Truth barked reflexively in Jeongo. He didn’t know why, but the short, beardy man with intense eyes gave off the scammer vibe he most vividly associated with his mother.

The scammer looked at him and started slowly shaking his head.

“Speaking in tongues. It’s already so progressed. I can only do my best. Yes, I can only do my best. Young man, do not despair, for God is great, and he hears the call of his children. Young man, do not be afraid, for your pain will soon end.”

Truth pulled himself together enough to say in Re’inyo, “I will not buy anything from you!”

The young man recoiled as though struck. Truth thought that if he struck the beardy madman, there wouldn’t be enough left to flinch. A plan he would seriously consider if this conversation went on much longer.

“Young man, you misunderstand! Young man, you wound me! I wish to save your life. I have many talismans and magical gems to suppress demons and drive them away. Many of the hidden names of God are known to me. Young man, I... am an exorcist!”

“Yes, I will have the same as him.” Truth pointed at the meal the man in front of him had ordered. It was a bowl of stew so deeply red it was almost black, with a blindingly white boiled egg barely breaking the surface. And based on the smell alone, Truth was prepared to jump the counter and raid the kitchen for the entire pot. It had been a trying morning, and by GOD, he would celebrate his breakthrough with something tasty.

“Ah, the demon has spared you this much grace. Young man, well done. That is virtually the national dish of Siphios. It tastes even better than it smells. Young man, I tell you that while dorowot is delicious, so too is standing shriven of all demons before the chariot of God.”

“Excuse me, do you know this man? I am worried he is dangerous.” He asked the cashier. “Are his parents nearby?” Of course, if nobody knew him, then Truth could always find a convenient dumpster in which to dispose of his problems.

“Him? He’s not dangerous! He teaches religious law at the school near here.”

Truth looked at the cashier, wondering if he misunderstood something.

“He’s a lawyer?”

“Young man, you wound me again! I am no mere secular advocate. I teach and reveal the True word of God and how to abide by his laws. Young man, just how far has this demon misled you? Ah! Pity, pity.”

“Your dorowot.” It came with a big piece of the sour, spongy bread he remembered from the village he raided.

“Thank you.” Truth reached into his pocket and pulled out some money. “How much is it?”

“Sir. This is Siphios. We don’t accept shillings here.”

“Ah. Right.” Truth thought quickly. Dine and dash? No, this is stew. He couldn’t run with it. Violence? No, he was trying to move away from that. New life, new strategies for life. He could only throw himself on God’s grace. “My friend here will cover it.” Truth casually threw his arm around the bearded man.

The bearded man looked startled but then nodded. “Yes. I will feed you, young man, and you will sit and speak with me. I have many questions for you. Young man, we must first arm ourselves with wisdom if we are to free you.”

They sat at a little table so small their knees almost touched. Truth got stuck into the stew. Watching the other diners, he saw that the correct way to eat was to tear off some spongy bread and use it to pick up mouthfuls of the stew. He tried it and about died. The flavors. Oh, Prager, the flavors. Garlic, ginger, chilies, and lemon, the meat was chicken, and there was some spice blend that was just unreal. Then the heat came in, and WHOO BOY! This was diner food? What the hell had he grown up eating?!

“Looks like you like it. Young man, you mustn't think this is the real deal dorowot. After you are freed, you will have many opportunities to try something better. Let us begin again. Young man, I am Justinian Merkovah, a scholar and teacher of the Law. Who might you be?

Truth started to say “Truth Medici,” out of force of habit but had the belated good sense to remember why that would be a bad idea. Oddly, the hotels hadn’t blinked when he put his name down as Tommy Wells. Which, ok, foreign names and all that, but still.

“Tommy Wells. Talisman maintenance technician.” Truth got after the stew. How was it getting better with every bite? The sour bread helped offset the richness of the stew and mellow the heat. The path of the foodie was justice! The path of the foodie was the light!

This got him an odd look from the alleged scholar. “Young man, you look like a model and move like a soldier. I don’t think you picked that up fixing streetlights.”

“None taken. I’m here as a favor to a friend and am reconsidering the friendship more every day.” Teacher Merkovah looked salty. “Does the demon still want out of you?”

“It is very particular about identifying as a ‘spirit of intellect.’ And yes.”

So fucking much.

“Very yes.” Truth confirmed.

“Hookay.” The teacher stared up at the ceiling for a minute. “So here’s the thing. I don’t know why it can’t get out of you. Your body is refined to an astonishing level for your age and cultivation, but nothing that should impede a demon.”

Spirit of intellect, shitbird!

“You want to gather spells. I’m guessing the spirit can learn many spells, make improvements, and customize them for you?”

Truth’s eyes went wide. He hadn’t said any of that but-

“Demons that identify as “spirits of intellect” have a pattern. Mages have been using them for exactly that purpose since forever. Sometimes it works great, other times not so much. It’s not hard to guess.” Teacher Merkovah shrugged. “I’m going to perform a divination. Don’t get weird.”

“Eh?” Truth looked blank.

The bearded scholar rapped his knuckles against the cheap wood of his desk. A collection of colored pebbles and stones rolled out of a black velvet sack. The light in the room dimmed. Even the brilliant, blinding sunlight coming through the window faded to a twilight gloom.

The pebbles began floating above the desk, spinning in orbits and moving in patterns he couldn’t decipher. Some rose and fell, but most spun around an empty center in grand circles. A center that grew brighter as the light in the room faded. A sun was born, barely the size of a fist. And within the sun-

A lion’s head, roaring, prideful, long of mane. Sneering eyes and vicious teeth. A predator, a king! And beneath that shaggy mane, a serpent’s body. Endlessly coiling. Scales like a snake or dragon, one large enough to eat the stars and not notice. Towering over everything. The greatest, most mighty, all of creation must crawl as ants as worms as less than the mud and dung of their being beneath the supreme and allmigggeeerrearrrayyyyyyy-

*CLAP* Truth snapped awake, looking over at Teacher Merkovah. Who was giving Truth a curious look.

“So here’s the thing, “Mr. Wells.” I’m an exorcist. I have to travel around Siphios dealing with bad situations. Sometimes I’m in a town for a few weeks, sometimes a few hours. Sometimes my very good friend will ask me to substitute teach at their scammy school for morons on the border of a country I wouldn’t visit on a bet.” He coughed and looked away. Then resumed. “But hey, if the divination says “eat at this diner today, it’s going to be important,” you do it, right?”

Truth nodded. The man was Level Six. Or Seven. Truth was prepared to agree with almost any opinion he might have.

“So, it seems you were telling the truth about knowing talisman repair, but you are actually a bodyguard? Well. How about this- I cover your living expenses, pay a small salary, and tutor you on magic. In exchange, you travel with me and be my bodyguard.”

“Your bodyguard? Why would you need a bodyguard?”

“I wondered the same thing, but the stars were clear. I suppose I am more of a spiritual warrior than a literal one.”

Truth couldn’t shake the feeling that there was a catch somewhere, but he was damned if he could see it.

“No contracts. I can walk away whenever.”

“Likewise.” Teacher Merkovah nodded.

Truth felt this was all going very fast. Then shrugged. He had nothing of real worth, nowhere to go, and nothing to do except get stronger. This was paid work. “I’m in.”