Wil Ogden - The Nightstone

“A Wizard and an explosion at the same location are rarely unrelated,” the Queen said. “For you, Kehet, I have this simple ring.” She pulled from the box a wrought silver ring in the form of a stylized Unicorn chasing its tail, biting the end. “Thomas said this will aid you in discovering your true form.”

“Thanks,” Charles said. Though he was still unsure who they thought he was, he accepted the ring. He tried it on several of his fingers to discover it fit almost perfectly on his left middle finger.

“It’s time to eat,” Queen Azalea said. “I eat alone in my wagon, but you are welcome to join the rest of the Gypsies at the tables. Kehet and Heather, you will always be welcome at our tables.” She bowed towards Kehet and then walked back to the door of her wagon.

“I think tonight’s meal is carrots stewed in potatoes,” Jonah said. “Like I said, we were expecting you, so we won’t be serving meat for a while.”

“How do you know that I can’t stomach meat?” Charles asked. But he realized they seemed to know so much about him, that they knew his diet hardly seemed surprising.

“All Unicorns are vegetarian,” Jonah said. “And, like I said, I know you.”

“I’m not a vegetarian,” Heather said. “I’ll be fine for tonight, but a week without meat seems unpleasant.”

“There will be meat available, just not served at dinner,” Jonah said. “I wouldn’t worry. We’ll take care of you while you are with us and with those bracelets, you shouldn’t feel the need to be so rushed in your journey. There are people here who would like to talk to you both.”

“Are you gypsies always this friendly?” Heather asked.

“Not at all,” Jonah laughed. “The Gypsies of the Wandering Rose don’t normally allow outsiders near our camp. They get a bit paranoid it might be someone who wants to take something, and by take something I usually mean taking it back. The Gypsies make most of their living through honest means, making clothes from imported silk, carved trinkets and such. But if one sees something they like and can’t think of a reason why it shouldn’t be theirs, they just take it.

“The two of you are the first outsiders, other than Diten, who can get herself invited anywhere, to be welcomed into our camp since Thomas disappeared.” Jonah pointed to a clearing where a dozen tables were covered in plates of bread and bowls of stew. “Sit anywhere,” he said. “I have to go guard the camp during the meal.” He tapped the sword hanging from his belt. “I’ll eat later. Enjoy your meal.”

Diten sat alone at a table. She waved for them to join her.

“We don’t know anyone else,” Heather said, sighing, almost growling. Still, she walked to the table where Diten sat. Charles did as well.

Diten bowed her head as they sat, Heather across from Diten and Charles next to Heather. “Welcome,” Diten said.

“Jonah said you didn’t know Charles, but everyone else seems to know him as someone else,” Heather said.

“No one here is old enough to know Kehet,” Diten said. “This is my twenty third summer. The Gypsies are all human; none could live the thousand years it’s been since Kehet disappeared.”

“But you recognize him?” Heather asked.

“Kehet was a strong handsome blonde man, as pleasing as any to look upon,” Diten said. “I’ve seen a lot of beautiful people, but none match Charles. He could only be Kehet.”

Charles had started to eat the bowl of stew, but on hearing Diten’s words, he choked. He had to turn away from the table for fear he’d lose control of what he’d been chewing.

“I’ve always thought he was cute,” Heather said, “But not the most handsome man in the world.”

“I suppose it’s a matter of taste,” Diten said. “Still, he looks just like the old statues and paintings. Usually those are idealized, but in Kehet’s case, they don’t do him justice.”

Having given up on eating, Charles had his mouth free to ask, “Statues? Paintings?”

“You’re the king of an entire species,” Diten said. “Of course there are statues and paintings and stories and…well, everything you’d expect.”

“The queen called me the prince, not the king,” Charles said.

“The Unicorns had a king once, but he died, since then they’ve only had a prince, but don’t be fooled by the title, in every aspect you are the absolute monarch of your entire species.”

“I’m still not convinced I’m not human,” Charles said.

“I could prove it,” Diten said. “It might hurt, but I could prove it. If I’m wrong, don’t worry, I’m the chosen of Beldithe, I can heal you.”

“Oh, damn,” Heather said. She sighed and rolled her eyes at the mention of the Goddess of Love’s name.

“Chosen?” Charles asked.

“It’s a misleading title,” Diten said. “The goddess didn’t choose me. I inherited it from my mother, who inherited it from hers and the chain goes back for thousands of years. We each have a single daughter who takes over the position upon coming of age. We are the highest of the High Priestesses of Beldithe.”

“Have you met her?” Heather asked. Charles was about to ask the same question but Heather beat her to it. “I’ve never known anyone who’s actually met a god.”

“I said I’m her Chosen,” Diten said. “I spend the majority of my time in her presence. I guess I should tell you, Heather, that you’re not exactly correct in thinking you’ve never known anyone who’s met a god. Kehet is, according to legend, not only a god, but one of the twelve founders.”

“We’re all Maia worshippers in Blackstone,” Charles said. “We barely speak of the other gods. What is a Founder?”

“The twelve original gods: Kehet is one, so are Beldithe and Maia,” the Chosen said. “Seven of other nine are Osris, Lord of Demia, Takel, the war god, Reina the goddess of the home, Caro, Lord of Paradise, Feasle the Crafter, Temistar the Huntress, and Theris, the goddess of knowledge. Then there are two whose names are lost to the mortals of the world. I’ve met all the gods I can name except for Temistar and Osris. Hang around the Temple District in Melnith for any length of time and you’ll see a few of them.”

Charles looked at Heather. She looked thoughtful. He’d expected her to seem as confused as he felt. “Kehet, me? I am an original god? I’m too young to be this Kehet. I am barely in my twenties.”

“Are you sure?” Diten said.

“I…,” Charles couldn’t be sure. He had only three years of memories. If he’d lost his memories, there really was no telling how old he was.

“For all we know he’s barely three years old,” Heather said, laughing as if she’d made a joke.

Charles couldn’t see the humor. Maybe he was only three. He couldn’t think of any true reasons to believe he was or wasn’t any particular age.

“If he were just a Unicorn and three, he could look like this.” Diten gestured to Charles. “Unicorns age very fast to maturity then live a thousand years or more. But you found him like this. Tell me, has he aged, gained or lost weight, or shaven since you found him.”

“I’ve never needed to shave,” Charles said. “I’ve never even had to cut my hair.” He undid his ponytail, letting his hair fall across his shoulders.

“He still looks exactly the same as he did when I found him,” Heather said. “Then again, so do I.”

“But you trim your hair when the ends get too frizzy?” Diten asked. “I’m the Chosen of the Goddess of Beauty and even I have to trim the ends of my hair twice a year.”

Heather nodded but was examining the ends of Charles’ hair. “No damaged ends,” she said. “I guess there wouldn’t be since it has all grown back since I burnt it away.”