The Forever Sea by Joshua Phillip Johnson

Author:Joshua Phillip Johnson [Johnson, Joshua Phillip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2021-01-19T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

“Good day, storyteller. I have some breakfast here if you’d like.”

Praise is waiting for him when the storyteller emerges. On the table, Praise has set what is, for the people of Twist, a feast. Charred vegetables of various kinds surround three separate cuts of meat. A large cup of water sits next to the plate.

“Is this wyrm meat?” The storyteller leans forward, eyeing the plate.

“It is,” Praise says, proud. “We can’t do much about the big ones, of course, same as that lady from your story, but every once in a while, we find a young one we can all take down. Feeds us for thirty, forty days.”

“This is kind of you, but I’m not hungry, thank you,” the storyteller says after a moment. Drinking water he can manage, but the thought of chewing through meat and fibers that once thrilled with life is enough to stir something like rage in him. He steps out the door and onto the street outside Praise’s home.

“That’s no problem at all,” Praise says, catching up to him. They begin walking back toward the fires. “Did you sleep well?”

The storyteller can hear the crowd gathering around the fires even from this far away. How quickly they grow comfortable with him and his protections, he thinks.

“I’m afraid I cannot extend my stay in Twist,” he says as the two of them begin walking toward the fire. “I must continue spreading my stories, however much I might like to stay in one place.”

This last is true—though there is of course only the one story. Were he to stop moving, the slow fade of his body and mind—along with the last bits of himself he still clutches—would go, the transformation finally completed.

And it’s best, too, he has found, to deliver the rejection with confidence after the appearance of having thought on it.

Let us get where we’re going, he thinks.

“Please, storyteller,” Praise says, walking beside him. “Please. Just a few days.”

The wheedling, begging tone in his voice is like a bug crawling across the storyteller’s neck.

“I’m sorry, but no. I cannot. I will stay through today and then move on. I expect to finish by the end of the day and can take my leave as Twist goes to sleep.”

Silence falls between them for a moment, and the storyteller can almost hear the pleas turning hard and bitter between Praise’s teeth.

“I understand, of course,” Praise says, finally.

They walk the rest of the way without speaking.

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