ONE NIGHT…

He came upon my camp more silent than the shadows of the night and scared the devil out of me. Not just because of his sudden appearance, but because of the garments he wore. He was mantled in the garb of the piali. He was an assassin!

“Please spare me,” I managed to gasp through teeth chattering in terror, half in desperate prayer to Fragil, Keeper of Life, and half in pleading to my unexpected visitor. A piali does not just happen to turn up without reason. My greatest fear, unfounded as it was, was that I was his target.

The piali stood silently over me, ominous, menacing, then with only the soft whisper of his umber robes he crouched to the ground and, across the fire from me, he bowed his head.

“I mean you no harm,” he said gently, his voice like a winter’s breeze.

I did not believe him. For a long time, I could not even think. I had never heard of such a thing happening. The Piali are the most feared men in all the realms. It is said that to come face-to-face with one of them was to know certain death. It is said that the mere glance of a piali was enough to kill an ordinary man. They were not ones to back down or look away. To see one bow his head to me, a mere vagabond, was beyond belief.

My stunned trance lasted forever until the piali spoke once more.

“May I share your fire?” he asked. That voice sent icy shivers up my spine.

“Y-y-you m-m-may,” I squeaked at last, finding my tongue despite the shivers wracking my body. It was no bravery on my part, truth to tell, that loosened my tongue, but merely an instinct to survive. It did not feel wise to make the piali wait for too long.

The piali lowered his head further in a gesture of thanks.

“I did not mean to startle you,” he added with great humility.

That, too, threw my world atilt. My dizziness must have made me more confident in my dealings with the killer, though by no means did I feel any less terrified. I felt like a little mouse when I managed to squeak, “Y-you are P-piali!”

“No,” he said simply.

I did not believe him. I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t. My eyes told me different. And, against my better judgement, my new-found confidence prodded me to point out, “B-but, y-you d-dress as one!”

“Yes, I do,” he conceded.

“Y-you are Piali,” I timidly insisted. I did not think I needed to say any more. Never in all my travels had I ever heard of anyone impersonating Piali, nor had I heard of anyone taking the garb of a piali under any circumstances. I do not think anyone would live for long after that.

“No,” the piali softly replied. “I am no longer of The Order.”

“Fragil preserve me,” I breathed in disbelief. It was yet another in what was becoming a night of firsts and a night of incredible things. Now, my curiosity was gaining the upper hand over my terror. I found myself asking, before I even realized what I was saying, “But, what of the Edicts of Kali?”

“What do you know of the Edicts?” the piali demanded in a slow whisper. He sounded neither accusing nor curious, but his tone still chilled me to the bone.

“W-well,” I managed to stammer awkwardly, my fear again gaining dominance. “W-well, y-you see, I-I am a storyteller, and I-I have seen many things.”

I realized then I had said the wrong thing, and I shut my mouth tight, but the damage was already done. The piali raised his head and studied me, sizing me up in much the same way an owl studies a mouse. I shivered, then cringed beneath that gaze, expecting at any moment to get a dagger in my heart, or to die from any of several swift ways. Instead, to my utter shock, he broke into a wide grin.

“A talespinner,” he said with a hint of amusement, shaking his head as if he could not believe it. Then, he fixed his gaze on me and his grin faded away menacingly. In a neutral tone, he told me, “At one time, the Edicts would have applied to me. But I no longer serve the god of death.”

“A piali that no longer serves Kali?” I gasped in shock, forgetting my fear. I couldn’t say any more than that. The concept was too foreign for thought.

“No,” my visitor grimly replied. “I am no longer Piali.”

My head was spinning, and I was so dizzy that I had no guard on my tongue. Recklessly, I said, “But, that is unheard of! What could turn a piali away from Kali? What god do you serve now?”

“I follow the Gray Path,” he told me.

“The Gray Path?” I had heard of it somewhere before, and I wracked what was left of my brain to remember what it was. Then, like a slap across the face, it came to me, and I asked in awe, “Neutrality?”

“I have become an Avatar of Balance,” he said without ceremony.

“You follow Kali-Fragil?” I asked in disbelief and more than a little fear. Kali-Fragil, they said, was the way of True Balance, but most knew it was a way to serve both gods at once, and at the same time neither of them. It was also a chaotic existence, as its practitioners would one moment do outstanding good, then the next moment vilest evil, all in the cause of maintaining cosmic balance. They believed that if there was too much of either good or evil, the world would perish. There were very few practitioners, though, thank the gods. Man was made to serve one or the other, good or evil, but not both. The practitioners of Kali-Fragil were insane. They were too unpredictable. I did not like the new predicament I was in. I had gone from facing a cold-blooded killer to facing a psychotic cold-blooded killer.

“No,” he calmly told me. “I follow the Path, but I am not part of it.”

“A Kali-Fragilist?” I replied slowly as understanding dawned upon me. I had heard of this, too, but it was rarer than meeting one on The Path. He was a fringe seeker, a man that vacillated between good and evil as he believed it best. I did not like that at all. Those people were selfish and held no regard for anyone no matter who they were. What did such as he want in my camp at that hour of the night? I didn’t want him to stay any longer, but my curiosity was ravenous. There were things I had to know about him, but first I needed certain assurances before I would share my fire with him any longer. My instinct for self-preservation fueling my bravery, I tremulously asked, “To what degree?”

That was all I needed to know, and he realized it. Lowering his head, he confessed, “To the ultimate degree.”

I did not like that at all. Though he remained civil in our discourse, things kept getting worse the more we spoke. Desperately, I sought out one last hope.

“I cannot address you as Piali because, as you have said, you are no longer of The Order,” I said, forcing myself to remain calm. “And, as you only follow The Path but are not of it, I cannot give you the title of Kali-Fragilist. Pray, tell me: how may this humble host address you?”

The man raised his head, a smile on his face. Evidently, he was pleased by my quick thinking. Truth be told, it was nothing more than the desperate gamble of a frightened man who had nothing left to lose, and no other recourse. Nevertheless, the man inclined his head graciously and said, “My name is D’Oshus.”

My body melted in relief. My unuttered prayers had been answered. As everyone knows, a name freely given is a bond of trust that no one could break, not even the most insane of The Path. This man would bring me no harm. I smiled broadly, extending my hand in a gesture of welcome. He took it in a firm grip, and I finally relaxed.

“So,” I remarked to my guest, “You are Super Kali-Fragilistic, ex-piali D’Oshus.”