Chapter 3 - Flamekeeper Agog

Deep in the depths of the twisting and winding tunnels lay the ventilation chamber. The high domed room, like a heart, had many arterial tunnels branching out providing clean ventilated air throughout the warren. The central fixture was a large hearth surrounded by four large tubs. Two of each were filled with charcoal and rainwater for maintaining the proper airs within. The ceiling above the hearth was punctuated by a series of boreholes around a central chimney and smoke catch. At the base was an eternal flame and its guardian, ‘Flamekeeper’ Agog who sat upon a soot-stained throne. Others would see it as little more than an upholstered noble’s chair pilfered from a caravan, but they would not be of the Gobbikin. V’s arrival in the room prickled Agog and he curled his fingers on the mahogany armrest, deeply scarred from raking his fingernails across the surface over the years.

“Why are you here?” He tilted his head much like an owl, furling his brow and licking his chapped and bloody lips in the dim firelight. The smoldering embers of the eternal fire suggested he had been asleep only moments before. Agog was once a favored raider who enriched the warren with a great many luxuries. His glory days ended with a grievous injury to his legs forcing him to hobble around. He was known for being bitter and spiteful as well as being a competent flamekeeper. An important duty, but he acts as if the warren lives and dies by it alone.

She entered the room and came before his throne and his open hearth. With a submissively sweet tone she replied as smoothly as she could manage before the bloated gnarled mass of bone and spite before her, “I must cleanse myself before I see the Great Mother and my chosen mate.”

“Mate!” Agog shook with laughter at the obvious lie and beat the armrest, “Do not tease me, V! Who would be so desperate as to want a qued? No. I refuse.”

V stared at him in silence as she approached the large tub and sought out a jug to collect the water. Agog’s mirth faded, and he rose up to stand upon his throne, looking down on her with all that he could muster. Ignoring him was difficult, but she managed it. She took up the terracotta jug and dipped it into the water and brought it to the center of the room. With a grandiose bow she placed the jug at his feet and dipped into outright groveling, with her head on her hands. Prostrating herself on the ground, begging for favor, she pleaded so deeply that her back was almost completely flat, inviting him to step upon her.

“You…. You give me no choice…” Agog’s voice wavered as stepped forward and stood on top of her back. His considerable weight pushed her face into her hands, but there was no malice or grinding of his foot into her back. Instead, he quickly stepped off of her as gingerly as he could, stumbling and barely catching himself from a fall, “Formalities finished, but wait just like that. My craft is one of secrecy! Once I tend to the fire, you’ll have more than a jug to wash yourself. I’ll oblige just this once and draw you a bath.”

He grumbled and huffed unintelligibly, but he moved about her with purpose. V could hardly believe the words that escaped his mouth, but the foul creature before her was actually moved by her plea and groveling? Had Leaf cast some charm upon her? Did she appear different? Was there something in the air? She noticed now the fresh air being pulled into the depths; it was unique. It was somehow fresh and carrying more than the scent of the forest. It was refreshing and invigorating. Was this what the outside world smelled like?

In short order, the stone chimney’s flues were opened and the fire surged to life. Plates of iron clattered as Agog tended to his duties. Keeping her head down as he worked, she heard him grunt and strain in his duties. Then she heard sounds from above. Rain. Soon rainwater began to flow into the two basins behind her, the trickle of water became louder as she waited. Then it was the sound of charcoal being shoveled out and into the central hearth.

“Head down.” Agog said even before she had the chance to look, “If there is one night which you should be treated as more than qued, it is when you devote yourself for the first time.”

V knew what it meant, but she did not protest, the ruse had to be maintained. Agog moved over her and disappeared. Returning with the sound of a tub being dragged through the tunnel, clattering with every rock along the way. Setting it up in front of the fire, the bath was drawn and the boiling water mixed with the temperate rainwater from the basins into a steaming bath. A strange scent caught her nose as strange lumpy chunks were tossed into the mix. Was this soap?

“Raise your head and climb in.” Agog dipped his hand into the steaming bathtub to show it was not dangerous, “Hot as anything you’d ever know, but not painful.”

With a little nod, V slipped into the bath as Agog resumed his perch on his throne. The bloated foul creature had no intention of averting his gaze, but now it was anything unlike she had ever known. Merciful. Was that the word? V was not sure. Did it matter?

“Thank you, Agog.” She said as she slipped into the bath and embraced the warmth and the pleasant scent of fruits and flowers, not one could she name. The relaxing sweet scent of a citrus fruit and the floral bouquet of spring fields sprung to mind. The embrace was complete and spread throughout her entire being. Such a luxury could never be forgotten!

“If only your mother could see you now.” Agog’s voice became soft, almost doting in tone, "You are still more than a qued in my eyes. You will always be Malmahar to me. Never grovel like that again. Not to me, not to anyone.”

V felt the blood rush to her cheeks, and it was more than just the heat of the bath affecting her. Having endured life as a lowly qued, and a child at that, she was expected to bear it and struggle at the bottom of the caste. Yet her treatment had been markedly better than any other qued child. Agog still saw her of the ruling caste, by virtue of birthright? Had he lost his mind already?"

Agog left the chamber for a moment only to return with a brown bundle of fabric. Tossing the top piece into the bathwater, he hobbled over to his throne and laid out a small knit tunic, “This one is clean. No blood. I got this for your mother. Same night I got my chair.”

“My mother?” V sat upright in the tub and grabbed the brown piece of fabric that could only have been a knit shirt fit for yearling. Except yearlings never wore clothing. It was unsullied. It was of the same color and texture. Her heart sank with it. She remembered the Bura.

“Why did you not give it to her?”

Agog stayed silent, but V already knew. Agog had been conducting a raid with the others when it had happened. Belaer had killed her parents and assumed control of the warren. She survived solely because of the Great Mother who cared for all those still shy of their first year. Belaer’s grip on power was weak and he was disposed of by the time she was weaned. As an orphan child, she was made a qued and had to survive on charity and pity. They would not let her starve, but she was often on the verge of it. Like all qued.

“Agog.” V began to scrub her green skin with the cloth, a lather of filth rising to the soapy surface, “Did you love her?”

“Enough.” he turned away, but still she saw him bury his head in his hands.

“Sorry.” V whispered.

“I am going to make sure the drains are working. I do not want to see you when I come back. Once you are done washing yourself, dry yourself by the fire and put on the dress. Hurry to the Great Mother.” Agog said before taking his leave.

After drying herself and donning the tunic that was long enough to be a dress, V stared into the crackling flames. The storm above raged with howling wind and the roar of thunder. A flicker of lightning briefly illuminated the hearth before the ground shook and the whole of the warrens carried the booming thunder through the tunnels. Echo after echo, the sound gave way to ringing in her ears. It was the same as the lock releasing in her dream. The thought broke the hypnotic trance of the flames. Collecting herself, she rushed down the tunnel to see the Great Mother.