Commonplace Miracles
© 1997 Arref Mak

Well, the bells are one example.

It is truth that the bells of Saint Meagra's Cathedral in Capitus can be heard for literally a centad of leagues. At that distance, of course, not everyone can hear them. Truthfully, not many listen either. But it is documented by the University that the distinct tone of the bells carries the full distance and can actually be recorded on paper with a small instrument. At the same time, standing in the Plaza of the Multitude to hear the bells firsthand is a pleasant experience. The sound is not potent because of its volume, but somehow because of its uncommon tone.

Marvelous, is it not? There is more. The newest bell is said to be over one thousand years old. The making of these bells is a lost art. Wise men have come from as far away as the Golden Circle to study their nature and try to reproduce them. None are known to have succeeded.

Intrigued?

Capitus itself is no less amazing. The bustling center of the small Republic of Cochis is older than the bells of the Cathedral. So well planned, that it is divided into three regions which may each serve as the defensible center of the city. One of these city centers handles the arrival of ships and caravans from the corners of the known world. The second has the oldest public gathering centers, the University, the Senate, and the broad splendid thoroughfares and parks that appear in so many of those paintings that traveling artists make of the city. The third contains the parade grounds for the legions, the residences of the City Fathers, the great aqueducts from the north, and the statue gardens where the wisdom of the ages is spoken by the statues of philosophers long since gone from mortal lands.

As great as this city has been, and remains today, the miracles of Capitus are largely overlooked by its citizens today. The bells of Saint Meagra's, the speaking statues, and many other things are commonplace to these people.

Sometimes you must step away from what is familiar in order to really notice it anew.

Sometimes not.

* * *

The summer wind was nearly impotent. The crowd of the market murmured the words of commerce to each other. The streets had not filled yet, for noon was still an hour away. It was a normal morning at the Third's common market of Capitus.

In one hard walled stall, a merchant licks his fingers and counts his wares.

"Vesigius, I need a few yards of cloth, and you owe me several favors! Attend to me with this small request and you may consider two favors to be paid." Madam Aprechea ran her heavy fingers through some bolts of material as she spoke. Vesigius was quite startled to hear her voice. His was an open shop, and he knew the Madam on sight, indeed who did not in the market? But as sometimes happened, she had appeared out of nowhere and was not likely to return to there until her business was done.

He hastened to her side.

"This is not bad...... " she said as if sensing where he was without turning around. "But the rest is too fancy, not enough substance." Then she turned, "But I'm sure you get a nice coin for it, eh, Vesigius? Hahahaha!" She nodded to emphasize her own conclusion and he found himself nodding with her. He stopped that immediately when he realized what he was doing.

"Madam, about these favors, it is true....."

Aprechea walked away to the stock shelves deeper within the shaded stall. "Aah, this is more like it....... this is the material I saw your Jania wear last month at the civic dance. That we can add to the other."

He hurried after her saying, "While it is true that I owe you...."

Somehow she had already turned around and stood three paces closer to him than a moment before. He ran into her front and staggered backward. His hands pinwheeled for balance and then desperately grabbed for nearby shelves as he failed to stay upright. He lost both battles and crashed to the floor.

"Aaaah, Aprechea." he muttered.

"Vesigius Allcha Morus, are we having a problem here?" He glanced up at her and she appeared to be part of the broad canvas stretched over the top of the sunbaked perimeter walls of his stall. "Because I can go to another cloth merchant who owes me favors and......"

" Don't nag me, help me up," he waved his hands. Hers smacked into his and he was hauled immediately upward and set on his feet. His gray hair floated above his head now and scented sawdust tracked across his robe. "Let me help you select the best. Tell me what you really want it for and we can both be happy." He dusted at himself to little effect.

She smiled sufficiently to double the size of her face, "I have had the most marvelous day, Ves." She held up one finger for emphasis, "And you know me, when I say marvelous, it is indeed marvelous!"

He nodded holding down the urge to smile back at her, "So the end of this marvelous day, is knocking me around in my shop? What kind of material do you need, Aprechea?"

"Why I told you, you foolish old dotard! A few yards! Nothing more! And nothing less! Today, I have found a girl who shines with luck." she suddenly leaned closer and he put his head nearer to hers in response, "And you know me, when I say shines, she indeed shines!"

"A girl? You found a girl? You didn't borrow her from a foreign caravan?"

"Found." she slyly snickered, "Found. Found. Found." breathing like a blacksmith's bellows in his face. Then she straightened. "I have had my eye on this girl for quite some time. She is clever. She begs on the Provost Street by the dress shops. I imagine she does all right, but she is wasted on the street. A woman of my talents can make something of such a girl. But she has no clothes because I have no material because you, Ves, are standing here staring at me when you said you would help me!"

He looked at her, "I have daughters of my own, you know. Swear by Saint Meagra that you found her and you are going to look after her and I will give you twice what you have asked for in cloth!"

A smile exploded on her face again, and she quickly made the devout sign of the orthodox, "Done. I swear," she crowed.

Vesigius stood there and realized, she had done it again. He started laughing at himself. Aprechea joined in.

"Heh, heh, she.... she really is.... a beggar you found." he guffawed loudly.

"Hahahaha, yes, you old fool!"

"Heh, heh, heh, and... I ... just let ..... you swindle.... me!" he laughed wiping at his eyes now with a small face rag.

"Hahahahahaha, yes, you old bull!"

"Heheheheheh, old crow, taking in charity cases!"

"Hahaha, ancient goat!"

People passing the shop front found their faces skewing to grins from the infectious humor and name calling spilling from the interior. An interesting kind of small miracle.

* * *

The door slammed open and two large guardsmen of the city watch stepped into the room. Aprechea put down her scroll and looked up slowly. She nodded, "Nox, Methos, be welcome. Easy on the property, eh?"

"Where's the redhead, Aprechea? Where is BangBang?" the first said in a deliberately lowered voice.

"Oooh. Brave fellow. Name calling and all. She doesn't like that, Nox. Better not let her hear you. Sleeping. In her room. What do you think she's done now?"

"We know what she's done . . ."

The second guard broke in, "Aprechea, we know she's not here because it was all a trap tonight. Your place has been watched all night. Bhangbadea went out. She's not back yet. Senator Caul's iridium victory laurel is gone within the last twenty minutes. We've already figured there was an extra kitchen whelp we can't account for so we are taking her in when she gets here." He matched gazes with her. "You've been warned too many times."

"Buy your way out of this one," Nox added.

"You two are quite too much. A citizen can't pee in this city without someone asking if she has a permit." Aprechea crooked her finger at both of them frowning. "Come along boys, might as well give you the bad news in person."

They looked at each other, Methos nodded and they followed the large woman. As they went to the back of the house, Aprechea gestured at the decorative secure grilles in the windows. "Since you're watching, you must know that those have been in the windows for nine months now. Crime is so bad in this part of the city." She hid a smile in the shadows of the room as she heard Nox scoff.

She stopped at the girl's room. Knocked. "Bhangbadea, get your self dressed. The law wants to talk to you."

Small steps could be heard on the other side of the door. Then the door opened. Nox's face fell. Methos tightened his lips, what kind of infernal miracle?

* * *

Chief Methos of the Third Watch sat in his lounger in his office. He listened while a Senior Sentry and his two men reported the street news. Madam Aprechea had just purchased a small den. She was opening a drinking place on Hermes Way. He thought to himself, Madam might be slower of foot these days, but not of mind.

"She must think we're stupid, Chief. What does she know about running a bar? She could never make enough money in a legitimate business to survive. She's a scavenger and a sharp. So I figured you would need some volunteers to watch her setup around the clock for a few months. Until we catch her with dirty hands."

"Hmmm. You think she'll handle fenced loot or just provide a meeting place, Regus?" offered Methos.

"Hades' breath, Chief. She probably thinks she's stepping up to the big time or retiring. She must be pushing forty. And BangBang isn't the size of a hearth flue anymore." Regus emphasized his words with a wiggle of his hands, "The Madam's never been a lawful citizen except we can't prove it. Now she's in a new game and here's where she slips up, I wager."

"Well, Regus, I approve of your initiative. Request granted. Don't make a nuisance of yourselves, and see Filgerius for some tips on watching this place of hers." The three men saluted and left grinning.

Chief Methos waited until they were gone to start grinning himself. He did approve of Regus' enthusiasm. Part of his reasoning was that it would be a good model for some of the others in the Watch. Partly it was a tradition. He could remember how many times he had been sure he would catch Bhangbadea or Aprechea at something outside the law. It was his job to keep trying. And he was good at his job.

That reminded him. He would have to say something to Regus. Bhangbadea could get mean with Watch guards who baited her with the street name she hated. Bad tactics. Somehow, the guards were always the ones to start the fight, too. Bad for the Watch.

Personally, he thought, for anyone, including himself, to catch those two with dirty hands would take a miracle.

* * *

Madam Aprechea counted the last handful of coins by flickering light and noted the total in her ledger. She put the till away in the secure box and keyed the lid.

She hummed to herself and worked her tired fingers in the Healing Ritual of Comfort to loosen the joints. It got worse every winter. She was way past her prime and fading fast, she thought. She chuckled and fetched out her Antioch pipe and tobacco. Once it was lit, she leaned back in her padded lounger.

A knock at the door. "Enter."

It was Hesta. Wiping her hands with a bar rag she grinned at Aprechea. "It's all closed up, Madam."

"Good." grunted the large woman. Then Hesta made herself comfortable and pulled out her own pipe. She motioned with it to Aprechea, and got the answering grin that said it was all right to light up and share some chat.

"Business is good and getting better, Madam." Hesta said around her pipe stem. "Taking on that extra serving girl has worked out all right. I don't know where you found her, but she works like a woman possessed. Smart with the men, too. Manages well." Hesta rolled her shoulders to loosen them, "You were right about letting Bhangbadea try the singing. On top of everything else, we've doubled business in six months. She's not like any of the others. It's new and the men like it."

Aprechea's eyes smiled in return, "It's all a matter of luck and some planning, Hesta. You've been around here long enough to know that."

Hesta decided to go on, "She went out again before we closed. She's been doing that a lot lately. I suppose you're not worried.....," Hesta blew a cloud of gray at the ceiling and let the words hang between them with the smoke.

"She's seventeen."

"She's half my size, let alone yours, Madam."

"I'm not worried. She's lucky, Hesta, you know that."

"You are the one with the talent for luck, Madam. You can see it. In situations. People. I just worry she might not come back some night. The city isn't as nice as it used to be. Not as nice as when we opened the small place on Hermes four years ago. And Bhangbadea needs rest and decent sleep like anyone else." Hesta looked at the wall dividing this space from the main room of the hall. "I'm behind the bar all night and I don't work as hard as she does in three dance sets. Now she's singing once a night, too. She keeps trying new things. Wilder. That flip off the stage, that one almost took my heart from my chest."

"Heh, heh, heh," chuckled the old woman, "me, too."

"So maybe she should ease off a little." Hesta countered.

A quiet moment passed. The Madam knew that Hesta was the oldest of four sisters. Sisters that had practically raised themselves when their mother was killed in a street accident. It was a solid part of Hesta's nature to take care of things. To mother.

Aprechea's next words surprised Hesta. "I wish she would. But then I never have."

Hesta looked at her. She had known the Madam for over eight years. Had quit the Red Lantern for a position with Aprechea's House. The Madam was one of the most formidable characters she had ever met, man or woman. Age seemed to glance off her. Time could not slow her.

"I guess Bhangbadea is a lot like you. Makes sense." replied Hesta.

Aprechea regarded Hesta with a smile defining the position of the pipe in her mouth, "She's as much like me as the bells of Saint Meagra's are like a tin whistle, Hesta. You were right in the first place when you said she's not like any of the others. I don't think she ever will be. And if luck holds, it will be a while before she realizes that. And maybe a little longer before she figures that none of us will be able to keep up with her."

Hesta showed her plain puzzlement.

Aprechea started a small laugh, then steadied it when it became a cough. She gestured with her pipe at Hesta, "Go ahead and worry, Hesta. It's your nature. You know rightly that I have a talent for seeing luck. Bhangbadea shines with luck. She must have been born in it. Rolled in it when she was a wee thing." She laughed again, "And you know me, when I say shines, she indeed shines. Let's just say we will trust to her luck, and not worry about the other things I said, eh?"

Hesta nodded. How odd that an orphan girl, barely fed on the street, in trouble with the law before she had steady work of her own, was Madam's idea of a luck token. But she knew Aprechea well. The Madam appeared to have the ancient touch few old familes of Capitus could still claim. In her case, a fey gift for seeing things of opportunity. Let it lie, she supposed. She would keep an eye on the girl herself.

Aprechea listened. In the city, the cathedral bells marked the third hour. All was well with the world. She let idle wonder drift into her private thoughts. The people that would step forward to speak on behalf of her adopted girl. Near as strange as those who seemed to take an instant dislike to her. She smiled to herself. No one was ever lukewarm about Bhangbadea. They either fell in with her, or out with her. Nothing in-between.

Well, things were better every year. You had to see the path to riches in every twist of Fate or you got run over by her chariot. And her talent had missed less and less through the years since the day she had talked the dirty red haired sprite off the streets and into her service.

She shifted the pipe and mused. What a pleasant shock, the day Madam had realized that the little girl had built a dwelling in Aprechea's heart just as solid and real as a Republic drachma. Heh. Maybe that was something else Bhangbadea didn't ever need to know. Heh, heh.

It was a wise mentor that kept a few choice secrets of her own. How else could the old be expected to bail out the young when they found themselves confounded, except by reserving a few special miracles? Heh.

* * *

The fires were unlit. The small circle of women was weighed down by the shadows of the room and the knowledge their protector was no longer there.

"Would it have made a difference?" said Hesta frowning and brushing back her graying hair, "I say not. And I don't appreciate this idle chatter that she should have been here. What could Bhangbadea have done that the Healers didn't do? What kind of song would have stopped the coughing for Madam? Let's have an end to this nonsense, girls."

The loose circle stood before her listening. "I thank all of you who took part in the funeral. I appreciate it very much. Let's get ready for this evening's customers. That's all." They were all a little scared, Hesta knew. Madam Aprechea had run the place and them for years, as long as most of them had had jobs. They wanted to know what would happen next. Hesta worried they would be even more upset soon.

Just the previous evening, she had talked with Bhangbadea who secretly was back from her trip to the Golden Circle. Hesta discovered that Bhangbadea had known Madam was not well and that her trip was in search of a particular healing magic. That she had returned straight away when her search proved the information she had trusted was wrong. There was no powerful well of healing power in the Golden Circle. The miracle did not exist. Hesta had heard the cold layered about the simple words.

Confound everything! Bhangbadea hadn't looked well, she fretted. Even before she heard that Madam had passed away during her absence. And she looked a damn sight worse afterwards. Hesta had spent the deep of the night with her. Talking. Old times and recent. Renewing shared memories of Madam's best schemes.

And early this morning, Bhangbadea had handed the papers of ownership to Hesta. The entire secure box of documents. And while Hesta had sat in quiet dismay, the red head had told her that she would not be staying in Cochis. Hesta would take over. Everything was to be shared by Hesta and the others with Hesta acting as executrix. Finding her voice quickly, still she was not successful in moving Bhangbadea to change her mind. Madam wanted Bhangbadea to be her successor, that was obvious. But the argument was not persuasive. Hesta didn't understand. Did Bhangbadea blame herself for not finding a cure? Was it the wagging tongues of Aprechea's enemies? Was she leaving in shame because she had not been at her mother's side at the end? That was the worst kind of foolishness. Hesta knew that real life did not provide such nice solutions.

She would have to corner Bhangbadea and talk some sense into her. She was plainly wrong in this and it shouldn't require a miracle to convince her she just couldn't ignore her mother's wishes. This wasn't over.

* * *

Well, that's over, thought Gallus the Gravesman. Quite a turnout. Never heard of this Aprechea. Certainly had plenty of people sorry to see her go. Or ready for a touch of her money, he smiled to himself as he stepped outside the gatehouse and headed for the actual gravesite.

Hmmm. When he arrived in the grove of Aprechea's grave, a man was there. Salt and pepper graying hair. Uniform. Standing with his cap in his hand. Gallus never disturbed the official mourners, the ones who were allowed to come the week after the family funeral was over. He turned and left quietly. He made less than a dozen steps before the voice rumbled behind him, "Excuse me, citizen?"

Gallus turned slowly. The large man had left the grave and was standing near him. "Yes, sir?" he replied.

"I'm looking for someone who might not have wanted to be seen at the grave. You've been keeping the gates and you might have seen her."

Gallus frowned and said, "It's not proper for me to interfere with the devotions." They both took no note as the bells of Saint Meagra's tolled the fifteenth hour a few miles away.

The man smiled, "Yes. I didn't mean you were watching, of course, only that you might have seen her. She is about so tall," he gestured, "and has red hair. She missed the family funeral and might have come to the official mourning."

Gallus eyed the gravesite in view beyond the tall man. He thought a moment more. His hesitation made a decision for the questioner, "Look, fellow. I just know a lot of people who are worried about her. She hasn't been seen. Word is she's taking this very hard. She's the daughter of the woman who was buried."

"Ya, I know."

He raised his eyebrows, "You know?"

Gallus gestured towards the grove in question, "This morning, early. She was here. Don't know how she got in. Over the fence, maybe. I found her sitting on the grave talking to the headstone. I thought she might be some fool youngling playing games. She proved different. She did some crying. She talked. I listened. She's gone."

"Damn," the official said, "Thanks. I'll just look for her in town."

Gallus scratched at his jawline, "Won't find her. She's gone."

Chief Methos felt a peculiar ebbing, "What do you mean gone? Gone where?"

Gallus shrugged, "Doubt if she knows. She's taking it bad, as you said. She couldn't stay. So she's gone."

Methos found that so difficult to believe that he stared at the gravesman for a moment as if he was looking down on a five times jailed lightfinger who had just told him the gold spectacles in his pocket were a family heirloom. Gone? There was no sense in Bhangbadea being gone.

Seeing the man's expression, Gallus' own face became less stonelike, "I figger she doesn't know what to do with the hurt y'see. She seemed to feel it was her fault. Mebbe nothing like this ever happened to her before. She talked about a lot of good times. She didn't want to leave. She just couldn't go on like before, see? She said starting over was better."

Silence came and stood between the two men. Gallus saw plenty he wouldn't put a name to on the citizen's face. Methos was thinking of Bhangbadea sitting in the wet earth of a fresh turned grave talking to a stranger about her empty heart. About leaving. He wondered why there wasn't anyone else for her. It still didn't seem possible. He knew ten handfuls of people who counted themselves fortunate to know her.

Hell. She couldn't be twenty three. How could she think her life in Capitus was over?

He looked at the gravesman. A different thought occurred to him. He set his dress cap on his head and held out his hand, "My name is Methos. Thank you for talking to her. For looking after her."

The gravesman found himself shaking hands with the officer. "I'm Gallus. She was needing someone, see? Just to listen mebbe." Gallus knew that his job had drawn a line between himself and people. From the terror and loneliness of death. From the dirt under his nails. He didn't know himself why this girl had been able to cross the line. Or why he had allowed it.

"Got work to do still?" Methos asked looking around.

Gallus shrugged, "Some 'close up' chores. We're pretty much done for today."

"I would like to buy you a drink, Gallus. You might like to hear some wild tales about the young lady. She's a bit famous in some parts of this city. And maybe you'll share some of what passed between you."

Uh oh. Gallus opened his mouth to refuse. A familiar voice that would say, I do not disturb, I stay away. Gallus chose that moment to notice Methos' pleasant smile and remember the girl kissing him before she walked away into the pre-dawn mist.

Some wild tales. A bit famous.

"Sure, Methos. I might like that." Gallus found himself saying slowly. In the air, the last peal of the fifteenth hour arrived and went speeding past, straight as truth, and out of Capitus.

END