Returning to the jailhouse, Samuel promised himself he wouldn’t push Atia with so many questions. He would have to wait and give her time. Hopefully she would trust him soon. He knew his employment was contingent on gaining her trust. How he was supposed to prove that was beyond him.
Atia was drawing another picture. Her hand moved the pencil in precise swipes as her stub anchored the sketchbook on her lap. He didn’t say anything, but sat next to her and peeked over her scarred shoulder. He expected to see another landscape portrait, but this drawing was different. The entire page from top to bottom was filled with the most intricately drawn roots.
“The roots?”
She rubbed her stub across her arm.
“Like my father’s mark.”
She pushed her red hair back behind her shoulders and continued her drawing.
Samuel swallowed. “The ribbon would help hold your hair back. That way it doesn’t keep falling on the paper when you look down. Want me to get it?”
She did nothing for a while, but then gave a slight nod.
With nervous hands, Samuel retrieved the chartreuse ribbon from the hope chest and got on his knees behind her. He gathered her thick hair in the crevice of his thumb and index finger. Her strands felt heavy and soft. He brought the ribbon up to her hair. He wasn’t sure how to tie it, but he knew it was similar to a bowknot. He grabbed both ends of the ribbon and looped them around, making two knots to form a crooked bow.
Atia added more shading to the roots.
“Do you know about the creation theory? Mostly only clerics know it. Or demons, maybe. I’m not sure.”
She didn’t acknowledge his question. He decided to continue anyway.
“Long ago,” he said, “Azhuel blew into the dark void covering the world and made the lands and the plants and the mountains. After surveying His creations, He knew that the world needed more. He added creatures: fish, birds, rodents, and bugs. But still, the earth seemed to be missing something. Azhuel took a very deep breath and exhaled as hard as He could. And out from His breath came humans. He was most pleased with the creation of humans, as they were the purest reflection of their creator. He loved them dearly and gave them dominion over all the earth.”
She moved her pencil up to the branches and added more leaves. Samuel did better on his second attempt at the bow, but the loops weren’t proportional.
“But then, when the demons saw what Azhuel had created, they crept out of their realms and made their way into the earth. Demons were the enemies of Azhuel, a horde of shapeless beings who Azhuel had banished to the lower realms for their insatiable hunger for inflicting pain on other creatures. They hated Azhuel, and since they could never harm Him, they decided instead to afflict his prized creations. Demons roamed the earth freely, tormenting the souls of mankind. Human beings became clay in their dark clutches. Their once-pure spirits went dark, and soon they lost all connection to their creator. Azhuel was heartbroken.”
Samuel pulled back on the left loop until it was almost identical in size to the right one.
“Azhuel decided to do whatever was necessary to save humans from the demons. He couldn’t inhabit the earth in his god-form, or else the power of His presence would crush the world. So, He threw Himself into the earth’s surface and spread His pieces out across all the lands and oceans. His broken body became like unending roots. He made sure to be wherever there were people, from the deserts of Kinhu to the icy mountains of Septrea. And then He brought Himself up to the surface in the form of a large tree. The life tree.”
Atia gently stroked the pencil back and forth, shading the branches. Samuel adjusted the angle of her bow, centering it. He blinked slow.
“That way, Azhuel would be able to watch over His creation. His unending roots would forever be buried deep in the earth’s surface. And any soul that surrendered itself to the roots in death would be brought into eternal light.”
She finished her drawing and laid her pencil down beside her thigh. She tore the page from the book and handed it to Samuel. He studied the picture intently.
“The scriptures say that mankind can again communicate with Azhuel because His roots are everywhere. All we must do is shed our blood and pray. And, when we die, we return to the earth to be with Him forever.”
Saying the words aloud, Samuel could hear his father’s voice telling him the same story over and over again as he was a child.
“I don’t know if it’s true. It sounds like a wild story to me. But I know some people believe. My father does.”
Atia parted her lips, her warm breath turning to steam as she scooted her body closer to the firepit.
It was early in the morning when Samuel entered the butcher’s shop. He didn’t need to buy more meat; he and Atia were set on food for at least a few more days. But coming to the butcher’s shop was an excuse to see Claudette. She often smiled when he walked through the doors, and it made his blood rush when she would talk to him like she cared. Except this time no one came out to greet him. A loud boom erupted from the back room. He turned his head, hearing a sudden commotion past the counter, down behind the wooden swing doors. He advanced slowly, listening to what sounded like smashing tools and an animal squealing. He didn’t want to interrupt, so he quietly waited.
“Stupid pig!”
Samuel leaned closer, carefully placing his palm on the left door.
“Everything okay?”
“Sorry,” the shaky voice called out. “I’ll be out soon.”
He inched the door forward but froze. He didn’t want to intrude.
“Do you need help?”
Silence followed, and Samuel took it as a cue to move in. He pushed through the door. In the center of the room was a long metal table covered with knives, mallets, and bloody rags. Pots and pans hung from wiry strings that were anchored into the ceiling. In the back corner, a pig frantically shuffled back and forth, bumping its plump body against the walls. The pig was bleeding from its lower neck, but it wasn’t a very deep cut. Claudette was squatting in the corner on her knees, a large meat cleaver in her grasp. Strands of her brown hair had fallen out of her bun. Her white apron had blood on it, but the stains were mostly speckles. Her eyes were wet with tears.
“Are you okay?”
Claudette sniffled, wiping her nose with her forearm.
“Sorry. I’m working alone today. My mom isn’t feeling well. She caught a fever, so I made her stay home. I knew we had a shipment coming up from the train carts, but I told her not to worry. I’d watched her bleed out a pig before. I tried to cut the throat, but I didn’t do it right.”
The brown pig squealed as it came forward and charged into the table, knocking over several utensils. Claudette buried her head into her arms.
“It’s not like my father is ever around to help. He’s always working at the mayor’s estate. Making real money, he says. I can’t do this by myself. I’m not strong enough.”
Samuel came closer to her. He empathized with her because he thought he was the only one in Haid who felt that way.