Replacements

This story is set on the world of Iopis, in the Fractured Duchies in Teringia's west, five years before the events of The Wrack.

------------------------------------------------------

Orman Odberse had only just sat down for luncheon when a panicked child dragged him away from the tavern table, crying about evil spirits.

Orman exchanged exasperated glances with the tavern keeper, but the healer let himself be dragged off. 

He couldn’t get anything useful from the crying child, but the trip was only a few short blocks, still close to the center of Happ’s Landing. Near enough to the docks for seabirds to be about, far enough that he couldn’t smell salt or hear the waves.

When they arrived at a blacksmith’s shop, Orman assumed that there had been some sort of tragic accident— a bad burn, a crushed hand, something of the sort.

So it was to his considerable surprise when the blacksmith’s family, and the Eidola priest already on the scene confirmed the child’s claim.

Vargen the Smith was dealing with a case of possession.

Just… not his own.

----------------------------------------------------------

“He claims what?” Orman demanded.

The Eidola priestess, Grey Heidi, scowled. 

“That his entire family has been possessed, their spirits replaced with evil ones,” she said. “He’s grown so paranoid that he threatened to strangle his wife, though he didn’t actually try it, nor pursue her when she fled.”

Orman slumped back in his chair, perplexed. Not just at the curious case, but at the oddity of an Eidola priest summoning a Moonsworn healer on what the superstitious locals surely thought of as a spiritual matter.

“When did this start?” he asked.

“Two weeks ago, after Vargen tripped and badly struck his head against his own anvil,” Grey Heidi said.

That got Orman’s attention.

“Hence you calling for me,” he said.

The priestess nodded at that. “There’s an old ecclesiastical saying— the first thing to check for during supernatural events is a head wound.”

Orman chuckled at that— so Heidi was one of those priests, the openly cynical ones who always ended up posted out of the way in some remote backwater. Cynicism was only useful in church politics when you could hide it in public, regardless of your faith.

And Happ’s Landing, in the Free Duchy of Vetrain, was nothing if not a backwater.

“Are his pupils focusing correctly?” Orman asked.

Heidi shrugged. “I… suppose? I wasn’t really looking, I’m no healer. Best if you examine him yourself, I think.”

“Is that quite safe?” Orman asked.

The priest nodded. “Absolutely. He’s only accused his family of being evil spirits, he’s perfectly polite and reasonable to everyone else.”

“How bizarre,” Orman said, but allowed himself to be led to the back of the shop, where Vargen the smith was straightening bent nails with a vise.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Vargen said, the instant they approached. “I’m not mad.”

As the priestess reassured the man, Orman dove into the depths of the Goddess Sea, then peered at the man through his peridot eye.

Orman was not a particularly accomplished seer nor healer— hence his own posting in such a remote place as Happ’s Landing. But it was immediately, clearly obvious that something was wrong with Vargen the Smith’s brain.

What, Orman couldn’t say. Even the greatest of Moonsworn healers knew precious little of the brain’s workings, and the only intervention that had ever proved useful was trepanning, cutting a hole in the skull to let out fluid after an injury, to prevent pressure buildup from damaging the brain further.

While signs of brain injury were prominent and easily visible through the Goddess Sea in Vargen, there were none of the tell-tale signs of injury in the man.

Orman ascended out of the Goddess Sea, pulled out a journal and a stick of graphite, then patiently waited for a gap in the conversation.

“Tell me, Vargen, when did these spirits start possessing your family? What were the first signs?”

----------------------------------------------------

Vargen’s narrative was impressively complex, entirely coherent and internally consistent, and utterly, completely mad.

The smith gave an exact timeline for the possessions, starting with his aged father, then his wife, and then down through his children in order of age. He described the exact signs and symbols that proved their possession, descending into complex discussions of Eidola theology that Orman couldn’t really follow, but noted down anyways.

Vargen also claimed that all the signs and symbols were unnecessary and superfluous— that he could tell just by looking at them. Which wasn’t particularly unusual, the mad often claimed special knowledge or perception— but what was unusual was the fact that Vargen apologized for that claim, admitted that he understood it made the whole thing seem less believable, but that it was nonetheless true.

While the whole case seemed mad, and was obviously the product of the smith’s head injury, the most disquieting part was how sane Vargen looked and sounded. How utterly normal and reasonable. Angry and afraid, yes, but not mad, not at all.

The only time that anger and fear broke was when he talked of his family’s spirits— claimed that he could hear them calling out to them sometimes, that they hadn’t realized they were no longer inhabiting their own bodies.

Finally, Orman closed his journal. “I’m going to go examine your family, now,” he said, pointing to his peridot eye. “I should be able to see if anything’s wrong with my seer powers.”

Vargen’s thanks were profuse, and Orman felt guilty for even implying that he believed the man about the possession. He hadn’t lied, but he’d certainly played along.

-----------------------------------------------------

Vargen’s family’s story lined up precisely with Vargen’s own, at least in the timeline of events. Obviously they rejected the idea that they were possessed by evil spirits, and claimed that the spirits were plaguing Vargen, not themselves.

Orman’s examination of them in the Goddess Sea showed nothing amiss— no brain injuries, and certainly no evil spirits.

The youngest child did have a minor parasite infestation in his guts, but Orman had a tincture of anthelmintic herbs in his bag that he fed to the protesting child, with the mother’s assistance. They should clear up the worms in just few weeks, with regular doses.

It was depressing how poor sanitation was in Happ’s Landing, it really was. There were probably hundreds of other children infested with worms in the little city, but Orman was the only Moonsworn stationed there to tend to all of them.

Strangely, Vargen burst into the room while Orman was feeding the yelling child the foul-tasting tincture, only to stop, stare in confusion, and retreat from the room. 

After Orman finished interviewing the family, he and Grey Heidi checked in with Vargen to ask why he’d burst in.

“I heard my youngest being tormented by the evil spirits, but when I entered the room, I saw only you trying to drive them out,” Vargen said. "No sign of my child."

Orman and Heidi exchanged puzzled glances at that.

----------------------------------------------------------------

“His theology is utter nonsense,” Heidi groused.

The two of them had stopped by the semaphore station so Orman could send an inquiry to the nearest Moonsworn encampment, then retired to the tavern, where Orman was finally taking his long-overdue luncheon, with the priestess joining him.

“As in madness?” Orman asked, dipping his bread into his stew.

Heidi shook her head. “No, not at all. It’s a mix of absolutely normal superstitions and minor heresies common in the region. Most of the descriptions of the spirits are cribbed from a combination of local folklore and the Book of Hungry Days. It’s nonsense that I might expect from anyone here in Vetrain.”

Orman took a bite of his bread and pondered as he chewed. Then several more.

It was only a few minutes later that he spoke up again. 

“Do you know what perplexes me most?” he asked.

Heidi made an inquisitive noise through a mouth full of food.

“The fact that Vargen seems perfectly able to recognize his family’s voices, but only when he can’t see them,” he said. “Why do you think that might be?”

“You’re the healer, not me. I haven’t the slightest clue.”

Orman drummed thoughtfully on the table. “What I know about brain injuries would be lucky to fill a pamphlet, and the greatest expert among the Moonsworn would be lucky to fill much more than that. One of the few things I do know, however, is that the brain is not homogeneous, that different parts control different organs and limbs.”

“So you’re suggesting that the part that controls the eyes was damaged?” Heidi asked.

“His vision doesn’t seemed impaired in any other way,” Orman said. “No, I think it’s something subtler— I think it might be the part of the brain that lets him recognize others when he sees them?”

“Then why can he recognize me, or his neighbors?” Heidi demanded.

“I don’t know,” Orman admitted. “I don’t know.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Orman received a reply to his message the next morning, and he promptly tracked down Grey Heidi outside her temple.

“They found no less than seven similar cases in their records,” Orman said. 

“Is this some sort of illness? Is it contagious?” Heidi demanded.

Orman shook his head. “No, every single other case belonged to the elderly, all suffering senility. Their respective delusions varied significantly from Vargen’s, but they all insisted that their family members were replacements of some sort. Actors, or Sunsworn spies, or in one case monsters from the Maze of Mist.”

“Senility is the spirit tiring of the body, how could it have the same symptoms as a head injury?” Grey Heidi asked.

Orman hesitated before responding. “I… believe we have some differences in theology regarding senility,” he finally said.

Heidi raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re saying Eidola doctrine on senility is wrong.”

Orman hesitated again at that.

“I’m not going to get mad at you,” Heidi said. “I’m not one to think that the ancestors who were foolish in life suddenly become wise when they travel through and past the spirit world.”

Orman raised an eyebrow at that minor Eidola heresy, and suspected he had a much clearer picture about why Heidi had been exiled to Happ’s Landing.

“I might better phrase it as an issue of translation,” Orman said. “The Daugthan and Galicantan languages both have just a single word for senility, and it covers both the gradual weakening of the mind and more severe, crippling forms. In our tongue, we have two terms that divide the gentler, common forms from the more severe forms.”

“A very politic answer,” Heidi said, with a smile.

Orman breathed in relief, then continued. “Let’s call the more severe form… age madness, if you will. Cases like Vargen’s only occur in the age-maddened, and only rarely.”

“How does it progress?” Heidi asked. “Do we need to fear violence on Vargen’s part?”

Orman shook his head. “I don’t think so. None of the reported cases have ever attacked the supposed replacements.”

“So what’s the treatment, then? How do we bring Vargen back to his family?” 

Orman shook his head. “We don’t. No one’s ever had any success in curing it, or even in persuading the victims that there’s anything wrong with them. They seem incapable of wrapping their heads around the idea that there’s anything wrong with themselves, or that their family remain their family.”

“So we’re just giving up?” Heidi asked.

Orman shrugged. “I don’t know what else we can…” 

He stopped, then started tapping his fingers on the temple wall.

“Actually, I do have an idea,” Orman said. “But there’s a problem.”

“And what’s that?” 

“We’ll have to lie to Vargen,” the Moonsworn said. 

“And?” Heidi asked.

“The Moon Goddess is very clear on the question of lying to patients. If you lose their trust, odds are you lose the chance to treat them,” Orman said. “Also, the ill deserve honesty from healers. Sickness does not strip their souls of the right to dignity.”

Heidi frowned. “Come to think of it, there are several passages from the Lays of the Eidolon that might apply, speaking of honesty to the dying, so that they don’t carry resentments over the lies to the ancestors.”

“Vargen isn’t dying, though,” Orman pointed out.

Heidi rolled her eyes at him. “Only drawing the most literal lessons from a holy book is an utter waste of a holy book.”

Orman conceded the point with a tilt of his head.

“Tell me your idea,” Heidi told Orman. 

He sighed, but explained.

After he finished, Heidi paced back and forth for a few minutes, then strode back over to him. “You said that the victims literally can’t perceive the truth of their illness.”

“Yes, and?”

“So look at the flip-side of your concern. You don’t want to lie to Vargen, but at the same time, we’re literally unable to tell him the truth, aren’t we?”

Orman nodded uncomfortably at that.

“So when fulfilling a religious duty is impossible, is good to let that impossibility get in the way of fulfilling another religious duty?” Heidi demanded. “In this case, the duty to heal?”

Orman groaned. “No, it isn’t. And we are permitted to violate some lesser rules if we must to heal others. We’re allowed to break our dietary laws, for instance, if there is no other food available to us besides the meat of furred beasts.”

Heidi gestured at him to continue.

“So… yes, you’re right. In this case, it would seem that my duty to heal Vargen overturns my duty to be honest with him.”

“So let’s get to it then!”

“I’m still deeply uncomfortable with lying, though, even if we have no other choice,” Orman said.

Heidi rested her hand on his shoulder. “That’s because you’re a good man, Orman. It speaks well of you that you’re so conflicted.”

Then she paused, and smiled. “Well, a good man for a heathen, at least.”

Orman snorted, and rolled his eyes at that.

--------------------------------------------


“What is this supposed to accomplish?” Vargen asked, as Orman tied the heavy cloth blindfold over the blacksmith’s face.

“We’re trying to find the wandering spirits of your family,” Orman lied, suppressing his discomfort. “We need to do that before we can hope to put them back in their rightful bodies.”

“Do you really think you can?” Vargen asked.

“I can’t,” Orman said, “but Priestess Heidi can, once I’ve tracked them down for her in the spirit realm.”

Vargen nodded, and gestured for Heidi to lead the smith’s family in.

“Now, remember— when you hear your family members calling, point to them with your right hand and name them. If you hear the replacements, just raise your left. And do your best not to speak otherwise.”

The family members filed nervously into the chapel of the local Eidola temple, where they’d set up this experiment.

Orman nodded to the family to start, hoping they’d remember his instructions not to touch Vargen.

One by one, the family members called out to the smith as they circled him, and his right hand unerringly pointed towards them, calling out their names correctly each time. Not once did Vargen raise his left hand.

Finally, convinced his hypothesis was correct, Orman gestured for the family to leave the room, then stripped the blindfold off the blacksmith.

He couldn’t help but notice that the blindfold was wet from tears, and his heart reached out to Vargen.

“I could hear them, healer,” Vargen said. “I could hear my family’s spirits.”

“Could you hear the impostors?” Orman asked.

Vargen shook his head. 

Orman exchanged a significant look with Heidi, hoping their acting was convincing, then turned back to Vargen. “They were in here, and their mouths moved, but no words came out.”

Vargen gave him a bewildered look. “I don’t understand, healer. Why would they be silent?”

“Because the spirits are puppeting your family, but not residing in them,” Heidi said. 

“Where are they, if they’re not in my family?” Vargen asked.

Orman sighed heavily. “They’re in your eyes, Vargen. Every time you look upon your family, the evil spirits force them out of their bodies.”

Vargen blanched at that. “That… can’t be right. I don’t…”

“How many times have you heard your family calling from a room, then come in only to see their impostors? Isn’t it strange that they would always seem to be in the same room as your family’s spirits?”

Vargen tried to object, but couldn’t seem to form coherent words.

Orman repressed his guilt, and set about convincing a man to have his eyes removed.

-----------------------------------------------------


Orman and Heidi received far less opposition from Vargen than they had expected, and within an hour, they had the man convinced to take the surgery. 

His biggest objections were about how he would feed and provide for his family, but stories of blind smith-seers, and other blind craft-seers, were common even in this backwater. When Orman promised to not only provide Vargen with gem-eyes, but to even help train him as a seer, those objections dried up quickly.

In only a week, Orman had summoned other Moonsworn healers to help with the surgery, and had removed Vargen’s eyes. 

The first couple months were hard for the smith, but having his family back and the supposed impostors gone brought great relief to everyone involved. What’s more, Vargen adapted to the gem eyes with remarkable speed. Within a few short months, the smith was already able to navigate his environment using quartz eyes, and was starting to train on citrine, which should allow him to resume his work as a smith eventually.

Best of all, when looking at his family through the gemstone eyes of a seer, his delusion of replacements never returned.

Orman had suspected it would work, when he’d realized there was some sort of connection between the smith’s sight and his delusion— plenty of blind people had become seers in the past, more than a few who had gone blind from brain injuries. 

Suspecting it would work and confirming it would work were two different things entirely, though.

The Moonsworn order was more than willing to fund Vargen’s training and gem eyes, and overlook Orman’s lies to the man, both because the cure had worked, and because it gave them a chance to learn more about both this rare malady as well as the brain itself. No less than four other Moonsworn healers moved to the city, and though they spent much time checking in with the blind blacksmith, they also worked with the poor throughout the city, taking a great burden off Orman’s shoulders.

That his cure worked was a great comfort to Vargen, but he never quite felt entirely correct about his lie.

The greatest comfort about his lie, though, came a year after the operation, when Vargen was back at work as a smith, and his work more in demand than ever— his ability to see flaws inside the iron brought his work to brand new heights.

Vargen’s success wasn’t what comforted Orman, though. No, the thing that comforted him? Was when one of the great healer’s colleges in the Moonsworn holy city offered him a position. Orman Odberse had gone from a mediocre, unknown healer to something of a celebrity among his people was being mentioned in the same breath as the great healers summoned to attend kings and queens. Wealth and respect were his for the taking.

Orman turned the position down, and requested that the larger Moonsworn presence in Happ’s Landing be made permanent, that a small enclave be founded there.

And so it was. He hadn’t expected to be placed in command of the enclave, but he didn’t turn this position down.

The first thing Orman did, once he’d taken charge?

He made sure that not a single child in Happ’s Landing suffered from gut worms any longer.

--------------------------------------------------------

A note on the science of Replacements:

Vargen’s ailment is a real-life ailment, known as Capgras Delusion. It occurs most commonly alongside schizophrenia and dementia, but can be caused by brain injury, as in Vargen’s case. (And by a few other less common causes as well.)