Heretical Fishing

Chapter 57: Shes Awake

"No..."

Unbidden, my hand shot out, discarding my almost-empty cup and catching the full cup of coffee with a single lightning-fast movement.

"No..." Maria said again, her voice tinged with grief.

Barry looked up at her second utterance, his eyes red with tears.

His face transformed.

A smile of the purest joy swept away any hint of sorrow, and he beamed at Maria.

"Your mother," he said, his voice hoarse.

He pointed to the door.

"She's awake..."

His grip had no chance of halting my enhanced body, but I stopped.

"Give them a moment," he said, wiping tears from his face.

I stared through the open portal, my mouth moving inaudibly.

"She's... Sharon's really awake? Is she okay?"

Barry nodded, clearing his throat.

"She's going to make a full recovery."

I set the cups of coffee down, sprang back up, and wrapped Barry in a hug.

"Mate—you're amazing."

He clung to me, laughing as his body shook with small sobs.

I held him as he let his emotions out, happy that I could be there for him.

I heard small but fast footsteps approaching. As I looked up, Maria collided with us, wrapping her arms around both of us.

She buried her face into Barry's shoulder, and the convulsions her tiny body made me want to fix every problem she'd ever face.

As she let go, she turned her face up to Barry, tears flowing freely, her lip trembling.

"Thank you..."

She hurried back inside to her family, and Barry sobbed as he watched her go.

I squeezed him tighter.

"Mate, you did good."

He nodded, unable to get any words out.

He took a few deep breaths and exhaled them slowly before easing his grip around me.

"Sorry, Fischer. This is embarrassing."

I let go of him, leaving one hand on his shoulder as our embrace ended.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of, mate. It's a lot."

He looked up at my own tear-streaked face and smiled.

"Wow, I didn't know you were the emotional type. Maybe go see Sergeant Snips next time you need a good cry—I can't always be here to support you."

We both laughed at the light-hearted jibe, Barry with a hearty chuckle, me with my head thrown up toward the sky.

"Yeah, sorry about that, mate. Here, I bought you something in apology for my outburst."

I bent and picked up one of the coffee cups, holding it out to him.

Both his eyebrows shot up.

"From Sue?"

"Yeah, mate—we brought one for you and Roger."

Barry accepted the proffered drink, holding the cup in both hands.

"You just... drink it?"

"Yeah, mate," I said with a laugh. "As if it were a cup of delicious, motivation-inducing water."

He took a tentative sip, then scrunched his face.

"It's sort of bitter..."

"Yeah, if it doesn't taste good your first time, don't worry—it'll grow on you."

He took another sip, swishing it around his mouth.

"It's not bad... just not what I expected."

"Wait until the motivation I mentioned hits you—that's where it really shines. I have a feeling today is going to be wildly productive for the village."

***

"You weren't lying about the coffee, Fischer—I feel like I could do everything right now!"

"Right? Feel free to get going if you wanna put that energy to good use—I'm waiting here to help Maria and Roger take their sugarcane and wheat to the merchant, but if you wanna get going..."

He shook his head.

"No, I'll wait to make sure everything is fine with Sharon."

Barry and I sat on the small porch, looking out over the fields.

"I still can't believe your medicine was so effective... that was only the second dose, right?"

"It was, though I don't deserve any thanks—it was because of someone else's efforts, I just delivered it."

"Nonsense, mate. I know it was Helen's recipe, but you brought the medicine yourself, and I bet you'd have kept doing so for as long as it took, right?"

He gave me a wry smile.

"I would have. I knew it would help, so I'd have kept bringing it as long as it took for her to recover."

Someone knocked on the door frame behind us, and I turned to see Maria looking at us.

"I'm not interrupting, am I?"

"Not at all." I held up Roger's coffee. "You should get this to him before it gets cold."

"Oh! The coffee!"

She took it in both hands and rushed it inside to her father, returning a moment later.

She sat down beside Barry, looking out at the blue sky.

"I don't have the words for how thankful I am, Barry..."

"You don't need to thank me. That's what neighbors are for—right, Fischer?"

I grinned.

"Right. I'd have done the same if I had any medicinal knowledge."

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She shook her head, the movement freeing a strand of hair that was immediately swept back behind an ear.

"We are forever in your debt."

Barry made to say something, no doubt a refusal of any debt owed, but a set of heavy footsteps cut him off.

Roger emerged, his eyes red, the usually omnipresent scowl nowhere to be seen.

"Barry. Thank you."

He strode to Barry and held out his hand.

Barry stood, shaking it with a smile.

Roger shook Barry's hand, using both of his with a vigor that would be comical if not for the situation.

"A million times, thank you. I'll never be able to repay you for returning Sharon to us."

"There's no need for thanks—"

"There is," Roger insisted. "Anything you ever need is yours—if you want our fields, they're yours. If you want our land, it’s yours. By Asclepius' serpentine staff, I'll be your slave if that's what you wish."

Barry laughed as Roger let go of his hand, shaking his head.

"No—I don't need anything. If I think of something, I'll let you know, but the medicine was freely given."

Roger nodded, turning as another tear fell.

With his back to us, he wiped his face and cleared his throat.

"Sharon asked to speak to you alone for a moment—I believe she wants to express her thanks."

"Alright. I'll go see her."

As he moved inside, I turned to Maria, not wanting to make Roger feel embarrassed for showing emotion.

I know how those old codgers can get about showing what they perceive as weakness...

"Do you want me to take your stuff to the merchant? That way, you two can stay with Sharon."

"No!" She held up both hands in protest. "I'll come with you—I don't want you doing our work."

"It's really no problem," I tried, but Roger turned to me.

"I'll go with you. It wouldn't do to have you go by yourself, and I don't want to leave Sharon alone. You can stay with her, Maria."

She looked between us, and with a small smile, nodded.

"Okay. I'll leave it to you two."

Barry barked a laugh from inside, and I couldn't help but smile.

She's already feeling well enough to joke.

***

Barry stepped into the room to find Sharon waiting for him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Much better, thanks to you."

He smiled down at her.

He wasn't sure if it was because of speaking with Roger and Maria, but she already looked healthier than the last time he'd seen her.

"I'm glad I could help."

He sat down on the end of the bed.

"So... I know your mind was probably occupied, but have you put any thought into what I said?"

She gave a single nod.

"That's what I wanted to speak about. It didn't require much thinking, and I've decided."

"Oh. Okay. What did you decide?"

"Your plan is audacious, cunning, and more than a little foolhardy."

She gave him a mischievous smile.

"I'm in."

He grinned back at her.

"I knew you'd agree, but it’s still good to hear."

"I wouldn't miss it. If nothing else, it'll be quite a show to see unfold—win or lose."

Barry barked a laugh.

"You're not wrong, but I don't plan on losing."

***

Roger raised an eyebrow at me as I hefted three bunches of sugarcane over my shoulder.

I could have carried more, but I figured carrying any extra toward the merchant's caravan would have drawn too much attention.

He picked up two, putting one on each shoulder before setting off.

I walked behind him through the fields, the passageways too thin for us to walk side by side.

The mid-morning sun was high in the sky, and I basked in its warmth, shifting the bails to my other shoulder to better expose my body to its heat.

"Fischer... I believe I owe you an apology."

I raised an eyebrow that Roger couldn't see as he marched ever onward.

"You do?"

Silence stretched between us as the ground passed underneath, and I gave him as much time as he needed.

"I've had some harsh words for you, and while I still think you're a heretic, I went too far. I'm sorry."

I smiled at his back, knowing that couldn't have been easy for him to voice.

"Thank you for the apology, mate. It's accepted, and all is forgiven. I know you were under an unimaginable amount of stress while Sharon was unwell, and I'm beyond glad that she's making a recovery."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, the only sound that of our footfalls against the dirt path.

"I owe you an apology too, Roger."

He halted mid-step, but then kept on walking, so I continued.

"You weren't in the wrong for having a go at me when I pumped too much water out into the fields. I didn't stop to consider the consequences of my actions, and I was treating my foray into farming as a fun activity."

I shook my head at myself.

"I acted as if it were a game, but to all of you, farming is anything but. It's your way of life, and at the time, the income from those fields was needed for Sharon's medicine. You have my permission to chew me out if I do something so dickheaded in the future."

Roger stopped, spinning to look at me.

"Dickheaded?"

"My bad. It means stupid and irritating, like a bloke that cuts in line or does something similarly annoying, whether by malice or incompetence."

He tilted his head, tasting the word.

"... it was pretty dickheaded of you."

I snorted a laugh.

"It was, mate. I'll do my best to rein it in, but yeah, call me out if I lapse back into dickheadedness."

He nodded and spun back, continuing toward the caravans.

We lapsed back into silence, the previous tension having melted away.

***

After the third trip to the merchant with their goods, I said farewell to Roger—I had some things to buy.

I approached the largest of the caravans and looked through the wares as the merchant spoke to a farmer I didn't recognize.

All manner of objects were arrayed, but I had eyes for only one thing.

Lemons.

There was a small basket of the fruit on a back shelf, too far for anyone to grab.

I waited patiently, and when the farmer was done, the merchant came over to me.

"Hello, friend! I have not seen your face before—are you a new farmer?"

He held his hand out, and I shook it.

"G'day, mate! Not a farmer, but I am new around these parts. Name's Fischer."

"Ah, Fischer! I have heard of you. I am Marcus—the humble owner of these caravans. That coffee machine was for you, correct?"

"It was for the whole village, but yeah, I'm proud to say I organized it for them!"

"Someone of your means is most welcome to my humble array of wares." He gave me a coy smile, gesturing at the surrounding goods. "What can I arrange for you?"

"A couple things—I heard you sold bearings?"

"Bearings—of course! One moment."

He whistled, and a man at the caravan to his left looked up.

"Bearings, Jager!"

The man in question ran a tray over, handed it to Marcus before returning to his customer.

Marcus sorted through the tray, plucking things from it and placing them in his palm.

"We have bearings of four different sizes—which would best suit your needs?"

I looked them over. The smallest was the size of a pea, the largest about the size of a gold coin.

"How much are they, mate?"

"Five, seven, nine, and twelve coppers, respectively."

"Can I buy three of each?"

"But of course, my friend!"

He laid them out on the lowest shelf and set the tray of bearings aside.

"What else would you like?"

I tried not to let my need show, lest the savvy merchant overcharge.

"You know, I haven't had lemon since coming to these shores... I see you have some."

"I never leave the capital without a selection of them!" He rubbed his hands together. "How many would you like?"

"How much are they?"

"Five silver coins each."

My eyebrows shot up.

Damn, they are expensive...

Marcus gave me a wincing smile.

"Yes, my friend, they are more dear than in the capital, but it costs to transport and keep them fresh, you understand?"

"Hmm. I was hoping to buy three of them, but a gold and a half...? That seems excessive..."

He leaned in, a conspiratorial look on his face.

"I'll tell you what, my friend. If you keep it between us, you can have them for four silvers each, and I'll throw in the bearings for free."

I looked through the other things he had on offer as I thought, and my eyes froze as I found a hidden treasure.

"Tell you what, mate. That sounds like a deal—if you're willing to chuck in some of those spices."

Marcus glanced at the rack I'd pointed to, and when he turned back to me, smiled.

"Nothing would make me happier, friend."

***

I couldn't believe my luck as I made my way home.

I had a tray laden with bearings, lemons, and an assortment of each spice the merchant had in stock.

Some of the spices I'd recognized—powdered garlic, onion, paprika, and sage, to name a few. There were a number that I'd never heard of, and upon smelling them, they weren't recognizable.

I'll have to experiment with their flavor profiles when I get the chance...

A grin spread across my face.

But first, I have a fishing reel to construct.

***

I turned the screw one last time and looked down at my handiwork.

I'd attached the metal bracket to the rod, and as soon as I set the bearing in the reel, I could fix it in place. Along with the metal bracket, I'd pushed a number of wall hangers into the bamboo to act as eyelets for the line to run through. They were crude looking, but I hoped they'd stay in place and function correctly.

"Almost done..."

I took the reel, and picking out the second-largest bearing, I put it inside the central hole. Well, I tried to—it was too tight, but only just.

This is probably the right bearing—I might need to widen the hole a little, though...

I tried pushing the bearing in, and it slid in a fraction, then wouldn't go further.

"Maybe with a little lubrication..."

I retrieved the linseed oil I'd gotten from Fergus, carefully dripping some into the hole.

The wood absorbed most of it immediately, the dark fibres going an even richer shade of brown.

Anticipation welled up, and thoughts of fishing with my new reel flooded my mind.

With a smile, I picked up the bearing and set it against the opening once more.

With care not to force it and break the bearing, I pressed down with my thumb and it slid even further in.

My stomach filled with butterflies as I realized this was going to work.

I set the reel against the ground, and with both hands, pushed down against the bearing with all of my weight.

It slipped into place, and a thunk rang out as it hit the back side of the housing.

"Yes!" I yelled, picking up the reel.

I put it on the bracket and spun it; the bearing performed its job perfectly.

As the reel turned, a familiar feeling rushed up from within me, and the rod transformed before my eyes.