Thaland, Justicar; Part 2
Diesca’s worry was too much for Thaland’s still-human emotions. Before he was compelled to show himself to, and comfort her, he tore his attention from the young woman to ‘peruse’ the thoughts of the others gathering around the well. A middle-aged matron was concerned about her two eldest sons who’d begun running with the Tragelli Toughs, a local gang that ran a ‘protection’ racket extorting money from local merchants and families. (Should he pay a visit to them and demonstrate the error of their ways?) Another was full of thoughts about how the local matchmaker had successfully paired her sons with two local merchant’s daughters. The dowrys would set the new couples in housekeeping and the prospective fathers-in-law were pleased with the match as well.
This, Thaland thought, was what he’d fought to protect; Ordinary, decent folk who didn’t have to concern themselves with anything beyond going about the common business of their lives. These were the people he’d fought and, in a way, died to protect against the corrupt, lawless predators who inhabited the underbelly of civilization, sucking the joy and life from the city like ticks, fleas, tapeworms or any other parasite.
Thaland considered his situation. He’d accepted that he was now outside the day-to-day concerns of the ordinary living person. The great question was whether the occasional, simple joy of the mortal life was beyond him as well. He decided that he needed to answer that puzzle before he revealed himself to anyone.
He consciously drew a deep breath, the first inhalation since…had he been breathing since he’d experimented in the warehouse basement? He found he was not sure. The well-remembered expansion of the chest and abdomen occurred reluctantly, but it did occur. The familiar tang of the salt air carried along with it the mixed sweet, sharp and pungent odors of civilization. After a few deeply savored breaths, his mind felt immeasurably better about his future. Other than death holding no threat over him, his personality hadn’t changed much.
A dirty, bruised, harried-looking girl rushed into the crowd surrounding the well, drawing Thaland’s attention. The girl, named Isgil, was pre-occupied with thoughts and cares no pre-teen should have. Her mother had recently died ‘falling down the stairs’ after a terrible fight with her uncle, who had since moved in with her family. Both her father and uncle were frequently drunk and subject to terrible rages. Her greatest troubles, however, were that her father and uncle had begun paying ‘special’ attention to her in ways she didn’t like. They would come to her pallet at night and... Thaland closed off Isgil’s mind quickly, embarrassed and mortified at what the girl’s thoughts implied.
Thaland’s formerly idle thoughts crystallized into a determination to do something to help Isgil. A quick perusal of the girl’s memories revealed where she lived and that she was the oldest of the five children her mother had borne that still lived. It was a sad fact that many babies born into this life did not live through their first winter, even in this relatively warm climate. Fewer still lived through the seemingly endless list of mundane diseases and sporadic magical plagues that still appeared two millennia after the Mage Wars.
Thaland stood suddenly, startling several pigeons that had gathered about, but curiously, no people seemed to notice his abrupt movement other than wonder what might have startled the pigeons. This, he presumed, was part of what legends called ‘The Shield of Justice’. According to Andronicus, the Ancient Lore said that the Justicars moved unseen and untouched through the masses. It appeared to Thaland that this was not due to great skill or stealth, but because the Justicars had some sort of ‘Don’t See Me/Don’t Touch Me’ aura that warded off all mortals. That worked to his advantage for now. However, he knew he would soon need to figure out how to get the attention of those he wanted to communicate with. The recent episode with Grandfather Bones rose to mind. A repeat performance with Isgil’s male relatives would probably be enough to stop their ‘special time’ with the girl. Then again, Thaland’s hand clenched in a fist around his sword hilt, there were other methods that held certain appeal.