Infirmity and Trust

The first thing Wanderer noticed was that the child was small.

Initially, the Golem saw nothing wrong with this, children were often small, but the more they inspected the boy, the more the Vessel grew worried.

They compared every memory they had of children, young and old, and sure enough, the features of the human in front of them matched those of someone at least twice the age they seemed.

Yet this physical lack of stature was not where the worries ended, soon more and more traits became evident that signified that something was simply wrong.

Desaturated, almost grey skin covered the child, as if the azure sun had never dared to touch it, despite the broad window that undoubtedly brought in the sun’s most valuable rays.

And shivering, the small human was near constantly shivering despite the heat of the desert creeping through the walls, banishing any hope of cold.

So shocked was Wanderer at the youth’s sickly appearance that for a long moment they forgot what was happening and simply stared, having never encountered anything like this before.

It was only when the footsteps drew worryingly close that the Vessel snapped out of their reverie, partly awoken by a question voiced by the equally shocked youngster.

“Who are you?”, he voiced softly, disbelief suffusing his tone and shock lacing it still.

Wanderer, on their part, had no time to answer, the servant was nearly at the door and there were few places to hide.

Perhaps, if they had more time they could have dove under the bed or scrambled behind the desk that sat to their right, but no such thing was possible.

At the last moment, the Golem sided into the far wall and splayed as flat as their body would allow, hoping to be hidden by a bookshelf next to them.

At the same time, Wanderer slapped two hands over the place a mouth would be if they had one, hoping that the young boy would get the message and stay silent.

For their part, the child immediately got the message, and in a show of trust stayed quiet when the servant opened the door.

From their position, the Golem couldn't see what was happening, yet from the sounds they could hear the servant was carrying some kind of metal tray or container.

“Were you talking to someone, young lecariro?”, the helper began, having obviously heard the boy’s outburst.

The “Young lecariro” hesitated only a second to gather their reply, before delivering it with a smooth confidence that surprised the Vessel.

“No, no, I was merely reading aloud to keep my voice sastire. I don't get to talk much here otherwise.”

The aid bought the lie with unquestioning conviction, something that was then doused with an extra dose of pity when the child let out a set of harrowing coughs.

“You poor boy, the moment I am free of my duties I can come up and you can read to me, how does that sound?”

While the boy signalled affirmative, Wanderer could tell by their non-committance that it was an unpreferable alternative, and they would have much rather been left alone.

“Now, where shall I rerligore mercalgio?”, the servant asked, seemingly more to themself than any attempt at consulting their muse.

They made to begin walking toward the bed, likely to lay down whatever burden they were carrying, yet were quickly stopped by the boy,

“No!, I don't want my mercalgio over here, rerligore on my desk.” the child shouted, quickly thinking of a line of reasoning that could hide Wanderers existence, before adding a “please” on the end to atone for their outburst.

The retainer was a little taken back by the unexpected aggression, but followed the request obediently before turning to leave.

“I can tell when I'm not wanted, young Lecariro, if you need me ill just be down the hall.”, and just like that, despite the close calls, the aid was gone and Wanderer was safe.

For a moment, both boy and Golem were silent as the steps slowly faded down the long corridor.

“Now, I ask again, who are you?”

The Vessel didn't know what to do, they couldn't speak and something told them another game of charades would be unappreciated, this situation was a little more delicate than the last.

“Maybe I should start with a gift.” Wanderer thought, it had worked so many times in the past, why not now.

The Golem rifled through their satchel quickly, unwanting to keep the child waiting.

“But what should i give?”, they somehow doubted the usually gift of coins would be of any worth to the child, if they could not truly escape their room.

They considered giving one of the books they had taken from the bookshelf so long ago, yet, while it was doubtless the boy liked to read (as evidenced by the many bookshelves and individual books scattered about the room), they weren't quite sure if it was the type of book the child would wish to read.

The books the boy possessed were colourful and thin, and in some of the open ones Wanderer could spy pictures in the amongst the walls of text.

Yet their books were almost the exact opposite, they were thick and leather-bound and so old and worn that the Vessel wasn't entirely sure if the pages were even readable.

In the end, there was only a single item the Golem could part with, the music box they had taken from the carriage.

It hurt for some reason, to get rid of a object of such beauty, yet if Wanderer were to find a instrument of their own, (which they hoped they would soon) then there would be no reason to keep it.

In the end, the child would likely gain more joy from it then they would.

As for the heat problem, the Vessel would simply have to deal with that when they get to it.

Without giving themself time to regret their decision, Wanderer took the box out of their satchel and presented it to the boy, hoping it would appease them enough that they would not cry for help.

The youngster quickly grew from cautious to confused as they accepted the box, freezing as they seemingly didn't know what to do (or perhaps was too hesitant to do it).

Realising the need for prompting, Wanderer reached out once again and took the box back from the boy’s arms, flipping it open and cranking the lever.

As the new familiar music began to play again, they gave it back, hoping the child would accept the gift.

“Phrukhe-honluhon-sedlkbhe-merophat-merophat-keromo”, the dancer sang.

However, the boy watched the dancer for only a moment, hardly enough time to even hear the first line before he shut the box and silenced the music.

“Why did you give me this?”, he asked, the latent hostility and caution morphing into confusion, “who are you?”.

Wanderer was shocked, they were certain that the gift would have earned them more gratitude, there was no way that such a item of beauty was of such little value.

The Vessel still had little way of answering the latter, there weren't even any maps in the room to try their charade, yet they determined to answer the first as best they could.

They began to sign as best they could that they wanted friendship and communication, and after a great deal of pointing and gesturing, the child seemed to get the idea.

“So you, a random Kershakrsha, dressed up as a Goreleshra, who is also apparently mute, broke into my home just to ask me a question?, Is this a werjeriko or something?” they exclaimed, voice getting higher and higher as the ridiculous situation dawned on them.

While the Vessel did take some solace in the fact that, even now, when they were standing right in front of a human their “disguise” still held up, yet something told Wanderer that in this situation being a Golem wouldn't change much.

Taking the lack of response as a answer, “Your insane”, the youth continued voice dripping with disbelief.

There was a long moment of awkward tension between the two, as neither of them seemed to know how to reply, causing the Vessel to once again stew in the anxiety of their situation, before the pause was broken when the child once again let out a long sigh.

“Alright then, Mercargila Golem, what do you want to know.”