1. Pretario Beans

Try as he might to conform, Litam just wasn't the religious type.

Past the great sapphire waters of the Tunanjel River, north of the vast rolling amber plains of Inner Mitaria, in the middle of the small arable patch of land that served to feed most of the kingdom sat the tiny village of Subito: Litam's home.

Fewer than two hundred beasts hailed from Subito, but the Lord Gardram had built his castle here long ago, and his descendant, the reeve, still ruled over a sizable part of the country. And, because his castle was in this village, many a trader would come to buy and sell goods. The villagers were few, but they lived well for peasants.

They lived well enough that a temple had been built within the walls of their town. Most villages only had a priest, but Subito had an actual white-marble temple complete with statues of heroes past. It had, of course, been funded by Lord Gardram to make sure the commoners didn't become restless. For most of the villagers, it worked.

But try as he might to conform, Litam just wasn't the religious type.

He rarely managed to sit through a ceremony without committing a faux pas, and today was no different. The priest was ending the longest sermon Litam could remember, and he made the mistake of yawning too loudly.

I'm sorry, Litam. If you find it so boring then perhaps you should not have come here, the priest—a bruin—growled at him; it sent a rustle through the crowd, and Litam shrank back and turned a bit red under his fur. The bear then gracefully went back to the procedure at hand.

As I was saying… the good Shalyon, creator of all, and Selassei, Empress of the Magics: they are flames kindled in our lives. To them we must all cast the pieces of Letimpra which we carry within us, lest her evils twist us, bind to us and lead us to our own demises.

Litam stopped listening, instead finding great interest in the tip of his tail. He flicked it about while the old bear spoke, until he heard the key phrase, something spoken at the end of each of his sermons.

Go, my friends, with good in your hearts, the priest said at last, dismissing the villagers from his temple service.

Litam groaned with relief, but before he could get out the door, the priest grabbed his shoulder firmly. Litam stopped, cringed inwardly, and looked up at the priest.

Perhaps, if your heart is not in it, Litam, your body should not be either. Consider that before you interrupt my sermons again, the bruin said, before turning and walking into his study.

If you say so, the little brown field mouse scoffed. He ran to catch up with some other farmhands, dirtying further his already-dirty maroon tunic and leggings as he kicked up fresh dust from the path. Although Litam didn't believe a word the priest spoke about Shalyon and the rest, going to temple meant that he could take time off working the crops without risking a penalty, so the mouse usually showed up.

Did you hear what happened in Bresnfurrow? asked Shallel, the young, rather impressionable chipmunk who lived on the farm. She was the child of two older farmhands and did not work; instead, she was coddled and indulged by Jajma, who always seemed to have a sad air about him when the kit was present.

Another worker snickered, stopping and turning to her. Yeah, some drunk came to Subito saying that the town burned to the ground. I can't sleep at night, I'm so afraid!

Several more nodded in facetious agreement, then broke into laughter. Shallel blushed visibly under her light fur, taking Litam's paw and squeezing it as if to ask for confirmation.

Hey, leave her alone, Litam chided the older workers. They continued to laugh and walked away, leaving just Litam and Shallel.

Don't pay any attention to them, Litam told her. They're not the brightest beasts in the village, but they're harmless. The chipmunk nodded to Litam, smiling again, then ran off toward the farm.

Actually, they're probably right, the mouse thought to himself. He didn't say it out loud, though.

The farm was a large one with several wide fields, each growing something different. The owner of it all, an old rat with a cruel streak, called Litam over and assigned him extra duty, for being the last back from services.

Litam had protested.

But no, the mouse was stuck tending to the pretario bean crop. How he hated pretario beans: how they smelled, how they tasted, how they felt in his paws when he picked them off their stalks. He even hated the noise they made when he removed them from their husks—it was a cross between a cat howling and a kit crying and the full range of teeth-grating noises between.

With a grumble and a groan, he turned away from the owner of the farm and went to pick beans.

Don't crush them like you did last time, or you'll pay for the damage out of your own pockets! the ancient rat shouted after him. It was barely louder than a squeak but it felt to Litam like thunder.

The rat was old. His name was Jajma, but he would never respond to anyone who didn't address him with a title of respect. There was a rumour circling the farmhands that he was actually born before their beloved Kingdom of Mitaria was itself formed!

Litam didn't believe that either.

Kicking a fallen beanstalk out of the way, he walked into the field and started on the nearest stalk. The sun was blazing overhead and the beans, with husks as black as soot, scorched his paws.

As he picked pretario beans, Litam thought about the sermon earlier that day. What was said had been seared into his mind when he was younger, but it was surely about as true as the legend of the prodigious tomcat who gave birth to half a dozen wolves.

The premise was simple: Shalyon made everything you could touch, Selassei made everything that you couldn't, and their dark sides, Kveilaz and Letimpra, continually tried to destroy it all. So the story went.

Litam thought it was a pointless story, written solely as a way to scare the unruly into submission—but you'd have to search far and wide to find a beast who hadn't heard of Shalyon, let alone one who didn't have absolute faith in him! Litam knew of no one but himself who didn't believe utterly in these tall tales, and the absolute submission everyone displayed was senseless in the mouse's eyes.

With a snort of contempt, he loaded the beans into the cart and headed off toward the village.

The cart must have weighed ten times what Litam did. Add another point to the list of things the mouse didn't like about pretario beans: they were heavy!

The mouse pulled the cart past the shops, where everything from fish to cloth to knick-knacks could be bought. finally, he saw the farmers' market, at the very outermost edge of the town, almost outside the fortified and well-guarded walls protecting them from danger. He stopped in front, but there didn't seem to be anyone inside.

Hello? Koshos, where are you? he called into the booth. A cloud of dust with a strong stench puffed out at him, and he pulled his head back quickly.

Bitlarr ronkalz-ju? Chaja falmiko goden wes! Koshos said, walking toward Litam and waving away the plume of noxiousness. She was easily the largest beast in Subito, being at least twice Litam's height and four times his girth. Raccoons, especially those with red fur, were known for their mass, and Koshos in her peasant dress was the textbook example of them, her flowing age-greyed hair a testament to her kind's longevity.

Litam stumbled along, trying to tell the well-fed beast that he didn't know the old tongue.

Uh… Ba—Baqramm och—

Oh, it is you, Litam! My apologies, chaja bavansozel… She thought for a moment and started again. I did not know it vas you. Most of my customers speak the old tongue, you know…

She smiled and slammed her paws down on the counter, stirring up more dust: Vat can I do for you today?

An exaggeration; there couldn't have been more than ten beasts who spoke the old tongue in this village, surely fewer than that, Litam thought.

Litam fought his way through the dust and through her accent.

Another load of these, he said, holding up a bean. I can never figure out who buys them, Koshos, but here they are! He placed it on the counter.

Aga miko-pod… How many are there, Litam? she said, brushing some dust off the cleanest part of the counter.

Litam read to her the numbers from the parchment, noting offhand that the valuable white beans were numerous in this group, and the cheap brown beans were almost nowhere to be seen. Why they were more valuable was beyond him: they all tasted horrible.

Koshos took some of the beans, ten or so at a time, and stacked them on a makeshift bean scale in the back of the room.

Then and there, Litam's World changed forever.

The beans didn't stay long on the scale: the ground began to shake violently, the beans fell to the floor, and the most ferocious of noises rumbled into the shop. Litam cried out as the ground moved faster and the shop suffered around him: pieces of the roof rained down upon the mouse, forcing him to hide under the counter with Koshos until the noise abated.

Slowly, finally, the thunder weakened to a low rumble and the tremors stopped entirely. They were followed hastily by darkness, as if a day had passed and night had fallen.

Bi'Shalyon… Koshos started as she stood up, but she looked out a window and trailed off.

Litam peered through a crack in the wall and saw something that made his blood run cold. At the centre of their village, there should have been the castle built by Lord Gardram, thoroughly dredged in vines and overgrowth.

The mouse could see that where the castle once stood, there was nothing more than a pile of rubble and a fading plume of smoke; fires here and there lit the remains with red and orange. One of the outer towers was still standing, and out of an arrow slit near its head shone a brilliant green light. It soaked the tower and the nearest debris in an unworldly aura, with no signs that it would fade out. Litam could hear nothing but the beating of his own heart.

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