by Tam Chronin
"Thank you, Deeg," Davri grinned and stood up straight for the first time in hours. "We barely got there in time, with all the crawling around we have to do. The hill’s a good vantage, but it’s extremely exposed."
Deeg grunted and tugged thoughtfully on one of his beard braids. "You got there in time, though. That’s all that matters. Where were they from?"
"Greater Stonegore, Yargran like the ones last week, and Plath, as always. I’m not sure about this crest, though." He pulled out his sketch book and pointed to a crest of a star to the right of a tree. "Isn’t that Lanrinburgh? That’s very close to Anogrin."
"What color background?" Davri looked closer, frowning.
"Scarlet," Naran answered right away.
"No, that’s Uregom. It’s along this route to Plath. Lanrinburgh is deep green, and the star would have been bigger and to the left."
Deeg nodded and tucked the page away in a scroll case to mark it up with notes and trace over it in ink later. "It’s a great service you do for us, since it is difficult to make out colors in the night. Still, in all this time, you haven’t told us much we did not know or suspect already. Well, boy, go see Merlynd for your supper. She’s still convinced you’re not eating enough since you’re not growing healthy and round."
"Yes, sir," Naran beamed and ran off to join Deeg’s wife and children.
"Come on, human," Deeg sighed heavily and began the familiar walk down to the ale house. "We have a lot to talk about this night."
His earlier admonishment to Naran sprang to mind. Had he warned the boy too late? "What happened? Did one of us offend?"
"Now, now, it’s nothing like that!" Deeg drew himself up to his entire four feet height and looked slightly offended. "Nobody’s saying you did anything wrong. Even when you’re drunk you don’t act drunk, and your beard is nearly glorious! For a human, you’ve done remarkably well, and no one would think to complain about how dutiful a guest you’ve been."
"What can I do to fix this?" Their statuses as guests had long gone from involuntary to honored, with all the work they'd done, and all their effort to adjust. He did not want to lose the dwarves as allies, and he had grown comfortable accepting asylum from his new friends.
Deeg pulled open the door to the ale house and ordered four ales before he would finally admit what was wrong. "It’s the boy. Naran. And people hate even to bring it up, because he’s also been a good guest for a lad who doesn’t drink."
"There's only so much I can do about that. He's young…"
"That’s not the point, Davri." Deeg shook his head. "He drinks fairly well, though you were right about human children having no tolerance. At least you never insulted us by asking us to water it down. You finish his cup yourself, which counts a great deal in your favor. It makes what’s at issue here all the more awkward." Deeg took a long drink of ale, slamming the cup down to show the hostess his appreciation by how much he’d had at once. "Now, listen. I hate to say this. It’s embarrassing as hell, all things considered. So, I’ll come right out and just tell you what’s wrong. The lad has no beard."
"Well, no. He’s just a child." Davri wasn't sure if he should be exasperated or amused. "Humans don’t grow facial hair until adolescence. I explained that."
"The other boys and girls his age are starting to ask some embarrassing questions," Deeg was turning red and he wasn't maintaining any sort of eye contact. "The other day Naran said his mother had no beard, and a girl went home crying. She has a bit of a crush on the boy, you see. And the thought that, if they got married, their daughters wouldn’t have glorious facial hair was too much for her. You know the girl, Heda. The one who was so proud when she could finally put a braid and a bow in her little scruff, bless her heart."
"I remember," Davri nodded. "Adorable girl, and very bright. I’m so very sorry she was traumatized by the thought."
"Heda’s a tough girl," Deeg said gruffly. "She’ll get over it. It’s just…one of the boys said something about shaving the other day. It’s getting a little out of hand. Shaving’s a decision for adults, not for children. They shouldn’t have to think about things more than how many braids or what they want to tie their braids off with, or maybe, if the parent is liberal enough, if they should trim for the further glory of their beard. Not shaving off patches, or Deyson be damned, shaving it off entire because they’re too young to know better."
Davri winced. "I see your point," he said softly.
"When this all started out, we'd planned on using you and turning you out once we didn't need you." Deeg sank down into his chair. "I was curious about humans, and the pair of you didn't seem much of a threat. As a mage, I figured you'd use your head more than your spells, and it paid off. You're an arrogant piece of work, but it gave me an excuse to keep you around longer." He took another long drink and then shoved the two full glasses over to his friend. "Drink up. You've been a boon I couldn't have asked for, and a friend on top of it all. I’m not kicking you out immediately. I just think it’s time to think about moving on before things get any worse around here."
"It’s fine," Davri said, and he took a long drink of his own. "It felt good to be doing something to help others instead of just running and hiding. I can’t tell you how much I’ve appreciated having a chance to know your culture and live here this long."
"You and the boy were half dead from starving," Deeg said gruffly. "I couldn’t exactly turn you away. Even if I was wrong about the starving bit. I forget how emaciated humans can look. And don’t get me started on elves, the walking twigs."
Keedi, the barmaid, walked over with five more mugs and sat down. She was a short woman of ample bosom, and she dressed to emphasize it, keeping her beard in twin braids that rested on either side of her cleavage. "Bah. Elves, now? They wouldn’t be caught dead down here in the caverns. Even when our ancestors gave them plenty of head room if they cared to visit. You ever hear about that?"
Davri shook his head.
Keedi took a quick drink to wet her whistle and leaned forward. "Long ago, elves helped us hollow out the caverns, and they taught us the shaping of the earth with magic. They didn’t care much for enclosed spaces, however. We’d build smaller rooms and they’d accept them, but they were too polite to say a word. They kept leaving and going out into the world and living among the trees where there were just too many places you could fall down, and we wanted to keep them in the goddess’s womb where it was safe. When our ancestors finally found out that the elves didn’t like to be closed in we created great halls and huge spaces, but we could never give them the sky, curse Deyson's name."
Davri nodded. "So, there’s no bad blood or anything there?"
"Bad blood? With elves?" Deeg laughed. "I told you I respected that boyfriend of yours, didn't I? I'm not the only one down here who does. It's just, they just don’t have an appreciation for the finer things in life. They like their sips of delicate wines and nectars. We like a big swallow of a heady stout. They like their delicate flowers. We like solid gems the size of your fist. They like stories of adventure and peril and higher morals. I’d rather listen to the sound of my neighbors having a good row or making a new kid to fill the halls. Or, you know, practicing the act. Now that’s entertainment!"
Keedi laughed as loud as Deeg did. "That is such the truth of it, there! I’d much rather hear sex than a song. Something heart-warming about the sound."
"I’ve heard some of the epic, five-day ballads elves are so fond of," Davri said, though he was blushing as he continued. "I might agree with you, but I think I’d rather give my neighbors their privacy."
The dwarves laughed and clapped him on the back good-naturedly. They drank up, gathering more friends as the night wore on, until it was time to return to their homes and their families. They said fond farewells when they heard he was leaving, and they all drank just a little bit more than usual in his honor. Keedi gave him a kiss goodnight, even though she complained good-naturedly about kissing a man with no meat on his bones.
In
the morning Davri packed his belongings and broke the news to Naran. Deeg and Merlynd saw them off and offered provisions for their journey, including a couple of skins of Deeg’s best ale. They’d made friends during their stay, even if it could not last. It hadn’t been a waste of a stop in the least to cultivate a friendship with the best covert information network in the world.
"Where next?" Naran asked as they looked up at blue skies.
"Plath." He wanted to say Hodarian's Bay, but it wasn't time yet. "Seeing their crest so many times has me curious, and they never struck me as overly religious."
Naran nodded, adjusting the pack on his back for the long road. "I’ve been wondering what it’s like there, too. Grasslands as far as the eye can see. They’ve also got a lot of renowned artists and galleries, from what Heda and her parents kept saying. I can’t wait to see for myself."
"Shall we find ourselves one of those caravans?" Davri grinned and gestured to the road. Just one more step on their great adventure.
The winter had been a harsh one in Anogrin. Snow and ice blocked all trade routes for a month solid, and sickness had driven families into isolation even when the streets were clear.
For Arlanz and Bretav, it had been particularly harsh. She had found herself with child, but could not carry it long enough. Finding a priest or a healer had been impossible until too late.
The loss hit them hard. There were gaps in their network of friends, and those empty spaces were felt hard. There were nights Arlanz would go to bed and wonder how they had made it through.
Still, life went on. Those days passed and were put behind them.
Spring brought new life and new hope.
Arlanz swept the steps and sidewalk in front of the café, clearing dirt, pollen, and withered flowers. The air smelled sweet and fresh. The sun was clear, and it seemed brighter than it had in an eternity. The streets were busy, bustling, but this early these were people with a purpose. Shop help, or merchants making deals. The tourists and the leisurely folks were still waking, or sitting down to breakfast.
As if to disprove that thought, a young lady stood across the way. She looked around, her blond hair glinted in the sun, and she looked Arlanz in the eye for just a moment. He nodded her way and a cluster of pedestrians walked between them.
He did a double take.
"Aral?"
No. It couldn't be. She was safe, with Raev. He had her most recent letter tucked into his pocket even now, with no mention of smuggling herself back into the city.
There were plenty of women with golden hair and brilliant blue eyes in this city. The recognition he felt must have been a trick of lonesome eyes.
She wasn't there when the street cleared.
Arlanz looked down at the steps and decided they were clear enough. There was more work to be done to prepare for opening the café. He closed the door behind him and smiled. Even the thought of seeing his old friends was enough to buoy his spirits.
Aral stood in the center of the room. There was no mistaking her, this time.
Arlanz stared. "You shouldn't be here. How did you get here?"
Aral smiled and came close. She reached out to give him a hug.
He felt nothing. No warmth, no stirring of breath, no touch. He could see her breathing, see her arms around him, but felt nothing from her at all.
"Are you dead?"
"Of course not," Aral said, laughing lightly. "It's a spell I've been working on. Projection. The last letter I sent you is in your pocket. I etched an invisible sigil upon the paper. I'm so glad it works!"
"It's amazing," Arlanz said, passing a hand through her image. Nothing at all. Just air. "So life-like, I can't believe you're not here."
"I've been working on the spell all winter," she said. "I'd wanted to test it with Naran and Davri first, but it's been almost impossible to get a message through to them. The one time they arrived here was the time Byrek and I were traveling. It's been terrible luck."
"Will I need to send them this letter?" Arlanz asked, pulling it from his pocket.
Aral quickly shook her head. "I have a separate one for them. This one is attuned to you. If it's not in your hands, and only yours, it won't work."
"Thank the gods," Arlanz slumped in relief. "This could have been a dangerous thing."
"I wouldn't dream of putting you in danger," Aral said softly. "You've done so much for us. It would be a poor way to thank you and repay you if I put you at risk."
He waved it off. "I have been putting myself at more risk than you could do. A favor for a mutual friend." When Aral look nonplussed, he gestured. "The sigils in the back room." Arlanz sighed and shook his head. Gods were more trouble than they were worth, honestly. "Do you need anything else of me? To get a letter to your brother and Davri?"
She shook her head. Paused.
"I will be sending you a letter with a sigil to one other person, I think." Aral's words were slow, hesitant. She looked downward, brow furrowed. "I should talk to Krecek, but I don't know if—"
"If you can trust him?" Arlanz finished for her, feeling no need to skirt around the issue.
"Yes." She met his eyes with strength and determination. "He was my friend, before we left. He tried to warn me, and I didn't listen. I need to know, but I don't want to put you at risk for delivering a sigil like this to him. I'm not even sure he would want to hear from me. He got what he always wanted. He is a high priest. And—" Aral broke off with a heavy sigh. "I don't know what to think. Are they loyal? Do they commune with the gods, as they claim to? Can I trust him? I want to, but—"
"Tomorrow I will go to the temple to pray. I do so every week." Arlanz smiled kindly. "I will bring this letter with me. I am willing to risk letting you talk to him through me. He knows I keep in touch with you, so this will not be enough to condemn me if he has been corrupted. After that conversation, then you shall decide if he can or cannot be trusted. Will this be fine?"
She relaxed and nodded her head. "Thank you. I can't tell you how I appreciate your help."
"For such a pretty lady, it is the least I can do."
Aral blushed, laughed. "Such shameless flattery! I need to end this before you tell more lies. Go on, finish setting up for the day. I'll see you again tomorrow." She disappeared, but she did so with a genuine smile.
Yes. This spring would indeed bring renewed hope. Arlanz patted his pocket and headed into the kitchen to tell Bretav the good news.
Aral sat back, satisfied with the first test of the projection spell. It was a lot simpler and less taxing than she had thought it would be, especially with some the herbs Raev had on hand which produced some interesting results when used as ink for different spells. He had been such a help to her over the last few months...
"It worked, then?" Raev asked, touching her shoulder.
Aral jumped and flinched away in surprise. "It worked beautifully. Thank you." She smiled, trying to soften the blow of her first reaction. "At first, he thought I was actually there, and then he thought I was a ghost when he couldn't touch me. It's exactly what I had hoped."
Raev nodded and took a seat beside her. "I am sorry. I forgot that you do not like to be touched."
"No, I don't like to be surprised."
"Aral..." Raev leaned forward, toward her, and put a hand her arm.
Her muscles tensed, and the smile was gone from her face, but she didn't flinch. It took willpower, however. "See? I'm fine. "
"You are not fine!" He let out an exasperated breath. "You have not been fine since you arrived here. Something happened before you came here that made you afraid. Byrek looks at you with concern when you cringe at even trivial contact with another, but he will not say a word. I see these things that you do not want me to know. I grew up in a family of merchants, it is our gift to watch people, and to see the truth. Watching you for this long, it has been hard not to notice."
"It's none of your business," she muttered. As soon as the words left her lips she regretted it. Raev had been so patient and kind. He
had been the perfect host and protector. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." Her fingers covered her mouth loosely, as if that would recapture words that had already escaped.
"I think that you did mean it," Raev stood and walked toward the door. "I think you do not wish it to be my business. I think that you wish nothing about you would be my business, and I am sorry that I hoped things could be otherwise."
Aral was silent until Raev reached the door, and finally she forced herself to speak. "Wait."
Raev was very slow in turning around. His deep brown eyes were soft and warm and spoke of a pain that Aral hadn't thought to look for until that moment. She realized he'd been trying to reach out and offer comfort for a very long time, and all she had been able to do was to push him away.
Aral found herself walking to him about two steps after she had started. She reached out, touched the tip of his beard and realized she had not done this even once since she had arrived.
The day they'd arrived she'd reached out to him. She'd felt a pull within her soul. He was a kindred spirit. She could trust him.
But later that first night, alone in the dark, Aral had realized it was foolish, dangerous, to trust a man she did not know. To trust any man that far, again.
In the darkness, all she could see was Porrellid. His smirk. His sneer. His rage.
He had been a large man, as was Raev. Not as tall as Raev, but he'd seemed taller, dragging her by the hair. Even now, standing beside Raev, Aral relived her helplessness at Porrellid's hands.
With her eyes closed, she still felt the same terror of that morning after.
"You scare me," she admitted slowly, pulling away again. "It's not your fault. Something very bad happened to me once, just before we met, and the nightmares hadn't started yet at the time. So, no, I don't want anyone touching me, because it reminds me of that, but especially when it is you."
"I see," Raev said softly. "Is there anything that I can do?"
