By Abigail Falanga
“These are the practices we must observe,” Master Yvear said. “Neglect them, and we neglect life itself.”
“Yes, Master,” Ranghur said dutifully for the thousandth time.
Or he supposed it was that much. He had been apprenticed to the temple on his seventh birthday, now over three years ago, and he could do the sums.
A thousand days. The same thing, over and over.
They would practice the motions of ancient martial arts. Then together clean the sanctuary. Sing the old liturgies. Kneel at the altar, whereon lay the Book—the archaic and magical text at the center of their order. At that time, Master Yvear would select a passage, which he would teach the novices later, along with the characters and ways of the writing.
Finally, Yvear would read a single line out loud: “May we receive sustenance for the day.”
He would rise and say, “These are the practices we must observe. Neglect them, and we neglect life itself.” And the novices would say, “Yes, Master.”
When the devotees turned at the end of the ritual every day, the table in the center of the sanctuary would be laid with a simple meal of bread, meat, cheese, and wine. Enough for devotees and visitors, with some for the poor.
Or so it had been when there were other devotees and novices—before unrest from plagues and war sent them scuttling. Now it was just the two of them.
“This is the Magic of the Book,” Master Yvear would say.
The same thing, every single day.
Ranghur jumped up and rocked on his toes with anticipation. The sooner he ate and did his studies, the sooner he could go play with the other children of the city. But Master Yvear was always slow in rising. Ranghur believed it was because he was old and rickety.
“I don’t understand something, Master,” he said as they sat down at the table.
“Ask, my son.”
The magic only brought enough food for the two of them these days.
Ranghur bit into some bread. Rich flavor and warmth flooded him. “There’s lots of other spells in the Book. We could ask for anything we want. Why do we only ask for sustenance for one day?”
“What else would you ask for?” Master Yvear sipped wine, a smile deepening the wrinkles around his eyes.
“Well… maybe for the roof in the dormitories to be fixed. Or new shoes.” Those seemed like sensible, boring things which might appeal to an old person.
“We can gather the straw to fix the thatch, and the tanner promised to give enough leather for shoes.”
“But, Master, wouldn’t it be easier—”
“There are more important things than ease.” Master Yvear chuckled.
The bell at the temple gate rang, and the old master shuffled away to answer it.
Ranghur was still scarfing down his breakfast when Master Yvear rushed back a few moments later. “I’ve been summoned to the other side of the kingdom. But I trust you to stay and look after the temple. You know the practices. Tend to everything, neglect no duty, guard the Book, and remember every liturgy.” He placed an encouraging hand on Ranghur’s shoulder. “Can you do all this?”
“Yes, Master.” Ranghur would prove himself worthy of his master’s trust—the only one left, but well up to the challenge.
The first day, he did everything just as Master Yvear had done.
And the second day.
On the third, one of his friends suggested a fishing trip. It would take them a couple of days.
Ranghur knelt at the altar for a long time before he made up his mind. “May we receive sustenance for,” he gulped, “two days.”
When he turned—sure enough, provisions for the whole trip.
After that, Ranghur tidied the temple as quick as he could, wondering why he bothered. No one came or saw, after all. And did he really need to study the old Book?
He had better things to do.
“May we receive sustenance for a week!” he made bold to ask later that day.
He grinned at the overflowing table and ran off to play. Now he was just like his friends, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
Whenever he felt hungry, he grabbed something—even when the bread grew stale and the meat tasted strange.
The fourth night of that week, he jerked awake to shouts and the clatter of weapons.
He ran to the door and found a mob crowded into the street. Their cries pierced the night air, growing harsher and louder:
“Let us in!”
“Give us food!”
“There’s a war and famine! We need food!”
“Give us the magic Book!”
“Food! Food!”
Ranghur ran and grabbed everything left on the table, then threw it from the window.
“Spoiled! We can’t eat this! The dregs of your pantry won’t hold us off!”
The gates shuddered, then broke open.
Ranghur ran for the safety of the sanctuary, but he wasn’t fast enough. There was nowhere to hide. What could he do?
The side door crashed open. Master Yvear ran in, intercepting the leaders of the mob with a rapid succession of skilled blows, his staff a blur as they fell away. The rest fled.
Master and novice slammed the gate closed.
Master Yvear looked around at the accumulation of grime and discarded bric-a-brac that Ranghur had collected during his explorations. “What a mess this place is! Have you read from the Book every day?”
“Yes! Well, almost… Not really.” Ranghur glanced up at him. “How did you know, Master?”
“People grow suspicious, then greedy. The magic of the Book can provide enough food for the entire city, but look what happens when only you take advantage.” Master Yvear smiled sadly. “Without the daily practice of reading the Book, not only do you forget to clean the temple, but you lose the skill to fight off a mob.” He looked in horror at the table. “Moreover, the bread gets moldy!”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Such a fun story, Abigail! I loved the setting and the relatability of the characters! And bread–yum! I’d be intrigued to see the further adventures of Master Yvear and his young charge.
Thanks, Beka! It was a fun story to write – especially fleshing out the characters :D
Oh wow! Love this. I want to read a longer novel about it! Great job, Abigail!
Thank you!!
I have NO idea how I’d make this into a longer novel, but I’m glad it gave you a (ahem) TASTE for more ;)
Fascinating story about discipline and ease! Nice job!
Thanks, Cassie!
The concept of discipline has fascinated me for a while, and I think it’s part of my personality type to be suspicious of things that are too easy, so it was really fun to explore these themes. Especially in the context of what is basically a children’s fantasy story! I’m glad you enjoyed :D
Thanks for reading, everyone!
This was a fun story to write, even with the challenge to keep it light while hinting at darker subjects.
The title and concept is inspired by the biblical line “give us this day our daily bread” – though the thematic structure grew and changed from there.
Fun trivia bit for fellow Adventures in Odyssey fans: The wise old master in this story pays tribute to John AVERY Whittaker through his name, Yvear! ;)
I loved this story! I stayed in a monastery one summary and this brought back a lot of memories :) I’d love to read more!
Ooh, I really like the concept of a magic book that grants requests! (though I agree with Ranghur about using it for way more than just food XD maybe not petty things… but like… wow, just think of what one could do with it 0.o).