“You little jester!” laughed Meridon. “I only water it down when it comes to lightweights like you!” He grinned at Laurel, and then turned a wary eye to Hal. “A traveler, eh? We don’t get many of those in these parts. Where have you been staying?”
Hal furrowed his brow and glanced at Laurel. The question seemed a little redundant, given what she’d just told the man.
“Well, at the homestead,” he said. “With Laurel.”
Meridon’s face flushed with a mixture of anger and confusion. “Lady Laurel! What would your brother think of this? You can’t just take a random man under your roof! What would anyone think?”
“He was wounded, Meridon,” said Laurel. “And I could tell he wasn’t a bad person. We’ve gotten up to no mischief, I give you my word.”
Meridon sputtered. He waved a finger at Hal, shaking his head.
“Anyway,” continued Laurel. “I’m staying in town tonight. I’m going to need a room.”
“And where might he be staying?” asked Meridon, in a sharp tone. “You can do what you will on your own property, Lady Laurel, but as far as your chastity is concerned, the buck ends with me!”
“Unless you intend to give him a free room, Sir Meridon, that is absolutely none of your concern.” Laurel’s voice was resonant, regal, and more than a touch offended. “You’re my friend, but I trust you to remember your place in judging the decisions of others.”
Meridon’s flexed his jaw and looked down at the floor. He gave a nod without looking at her, reminding Hal of a punished dog.
“…Of course, Lady Laurel,” said Meridon. “Forgive me. I meant nothing of it. I was just concerned, is all.”
Laurel looked a little embarrassed, and Hal couldn’t tell whether it was for the innkeeper or herself. She walked over to him and set a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she said. “All is forgiven.”
Meridon nodded again, finally glancing back up at her.
“You picked a good night to come through, at least,” he said. “Theron’s come to play the room, along with that new traveling companion he’s been talking up.”
The news brought a smile to Laurel’s face, one wide enough to reveal her dimples.
“That sounds fantastic,” she said. “We’ll be here in time to grab a table.”
Meridon snorted at the apparent joke. He nodded to her again, shot one more cold look of warning at Hal, and then returned to his place behind the bar.
CHAPTER 13
They headed out of the inn and into another building, the next largest one in town. Hal immediately recognized it as a general store as soon as he got a look at the long rows of shelves inside. He scanned over the shop’s inventory, hoping and failing to find anything that looked like gunpowder.
Laurel spoke with the owner, a slightly chubby woman in her middle years named Koda. The woman asked many of the same questions that the innkeeper had, though her reactions were decidedly different.
“Let me send you off with some morning flowers,” said Koda. “The tea is easy to brew. All you need do is grind them and set them in boiling water on the morning of the day after your fun.”
“Koda!” Laurel’s face was bright red, and she wouldn’t meet Hal’s gaze when he raised an eyebrow at her.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, young lass,” said Koda. “But better to be safe than sorry. With the dragon about, I can’t imagine that you or any woman would want to go and end up with–”
“Koda!” snapped Laurel. “It isn’t like that! And I’d appreciate it if you’d just let it drop.”
Koda looked back and forth between Laurel and Hal for a while, a crafty smile spreading across her mildly wrinkled face.
“Right…” she said, in a mocking tone. “Well, I’ll be here in my shop early tomorrow morning. Not that it would concern either of you.”
The conversation shifted into a discussion about roofing shingles. Hal listened to Laurel and Koda haggling over the price, and then followed her out of the shop.
“I’ll pick those up tomorrow on my way out of town,” said Laurel. “Hal… Do you have plans for what you’ll do next?”
“My only plan now is to go talk to this Cadrian,” said Hal. “And see what she can tell me about this.” He felt the gemstone underneath his shirt.
“And after that?” asked Laurel.
Simple. I go and face the dragon.
Hal shrugged, knowing that telling Laurel as much would only make her worry.
“I’m taking a wait and see approach,” he said.
Laurel nodded.
“Well, if you decide that you’d like to earn some coin, I could use some help with the repairs back at my homestead.” Her voice was hopeful, even a little nervous. “It’s a job I’d like to have done in one day. It won’t make for a fun time if it rains before I can get all of the new shingles in place.”
“I don’t know,” said Hal. “Let me think about it.”
His answer didn’t seem to please her, and the two walked in silence across the small town. The sun was setting over the desert horizon, and Hal had never seen a sunset so red. It cast reflections off the sand in the distance, splashing color across the dunes.
There was one house built off to the side of the others, and Laurel led him to the front door. Immediately on approaching it, Hal noticed a few oddities. The ground was level, and the sand seemed thinner underneath his feet around it, as though the home had been constructed on an unusually flat stretch of rock.
Laurel hesitated for a moment, listening to something before knocking on the door. They waited for half minute or so, and then she knocked again.
“Cadrian?” called Laurel. “Are you home? May we come in?”
There was no answer, but Laurel seemed to take the silence for a positive one. She pulled at the door handle and led Hal through the cloth curtain on the other side.
The interior of the small sandstone house was lit only by the ambient light of the setting sun. A single orange sunbeam highlighted a woman in the center of the room. She stood in front of a stretch of canvas on an easel, a palette sitting on a small table nearby.
The woman didn’t turn to face them or say anything. Her hair was jet black, and woven into the most intricate braid Hal had ever seen. It fell almost down to her waist, which was made all the more impressive by the fact that she was almost as tall as he was.
She wore pants, but the long, double sided smock she had on over it was close enough to a dress to satisfy Hal’s sensibilities. He felt suddenly awkward standing there, and looked over at Laurel to see what their next move was supposed to be.
“Hello, Laurel,” the woman finally said. Her voice was slow and quiet, but carried a weight that transcended those qualities.
“Cadrian,” said Laurel. “Sorry for just, uh, bursting in like this. I thought you might be home and just not coming to the door. We didn’t interrupt your painting, did we? Again, I’m so sorry!”
Cadrian didn’t answer her. Hal took a closer look at her painting. Whatever it was supposed to be, it wasn’t at the point where he could make any sense of the shapes and colors. Even still, he felt a stirring of emotion as he looked at the mixture of yellow, purple, and blue, almost as though he was looking at the essence of something on the tip of his tongue.
It’s beautiful…
“I brought a friend with me,” said Laurel. “He’s actually why I came. Cadrian, this is Halrin. Halrin, Cadrian.”
Cadrian’s focus never swayed from the painting. Her brush slid across the canvas with delicate, confident strokes. Hal furrowed his brow and looked at Laurel, who shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I’ll let the two of you speak alone, I guess,” said Laurel. “Hal, I’ll be at the inn if you decide you want to help me out tomorrow after all.”
She smiled at him and departed, slipping through the cloth and leaving the door slightly ajar behind her. Hal felt uncomfortable alone in the house with the strange woman, and had no idea how to phrase
his questions. He started to take a step forward, but Cadrian finally spoke, cutting him off.
“Take the weapon off your belt and drop it outside the door,” said Cadrian.
It took Hal a couple of seconds to realize that she was talking about his empty pistol. He pulled it from his belt and did as requested, feeling odd without its familiar weight at his side.
“Can we talk now?” asked Hal. “I have a few questions that Laurel told me you might be able to answer.”
Cadrian didn’t say anything. She dipped her brush into a small cup of waste water, straining out color before bringing it back to the orange paint on her easel.
“I’m new to Krestia’s Cradle,” said Hal. “I won’t bore you with the details, but I’m not familiar with this area. Or with its customs.”
He felt as though he was sparing them both by not delving into the horrific events that had led him to Laurel’s homestead. He’d done a good job of putting the tragedy out of his mind for the day, and the last thing he wanted to do was let grief slow him down on the way to revenge.
“I have a gemstone,” said Hal. “I was given it back in my homeland, before I was brought here. But I don’t know anything about the magic in it, or what it can do… or how to do it. I was hoping you could help explain to me how it works.”
It felt odd to be speaking in serious words about “magic”, something that Hal still had trouble believing existed. The fact that Cadrian still held her silence only made him feel more uncomfortable. Was this all a strange joke on Laurel’s part, designed to make a fool of him by tricking him into thinking his necklace was something special?
Would she do that? No, I trust her.
“I just need to know the basics,” said Hal. “Please.”
A hint of desperation entered his voice. He scowled, feeling suddenly annoyed by the woman’s behavior. He was a guest at her door, and she was treating him with all the attention and welcome of a fly circling her lantern.
“Can you at least talk to me?” snapped Hal. “Say yes, say no. Come on!”
He walked across the room and grabbed Cadrian’s shoulder. As soon as his hand made contact, he realized the weight of his error.
Cadrian spun, slipping a long dagger out of her smock and pressing it to Hal’s neck in a smooth series of blurringly fast movements. Hal had only seen her from behind, and was surprised to notice that she was missing her right eye. She wore a plain black eye patch over it, which mostly blended in to a few loose bangs that fell across it.
Even with that missing eye, she was quite attractive. Younger than Hal had initially assumed, Cadrian was probably in her late twenties or early thirties. Her body was trim, but it contained a paradoxical contrast of lean muscle and comely curves, especially in her bust and hips.
“You enter a stranger’s house with a weapon,” said Cadrian, in that slow, quiet voice, “and then proceed to place your hand on them?”
Hal scowled at her.
“I wouldn’t have needed to if you’d just answered my questions,” he said.
The dagger pressed harder into the side of his neck. It was sharp, and he knew that it would only take a degree of strength more to draw blood.
“And how would grabbing me have gotten you the answers you seek?” asked Cadrian. “Did you suspect I would cower under your grip? Change my demeanor to match your expectations?”
Cadrian slid the flat of the dagger along his neck. The cold metal tickled where it made contact with Hal’s skin. She held his gaze with her one eye, her expression unreadable. The tip of the blade dipped down into his shirt, pulling Hal’s gemstone out into plain view by the cord.
Her expression still betrayed nothing, but the way her eye lingered on the gem, considering it carefully, told Hal that she did have answers for him. Whether or not she would provide them to him was another question entirely.
“What do you know of this?” asked Cadrian.
Hal opened his mouth to answer her, and then hesitated.
She does not seem like the type of person who’d respect cowering obedience.
Cadrian had the knowledge he sought. Hal was sure of it. He decided to answer her question with one of his own, and one that he doubted she’d be expecting.
“What do you know of the Desert Lady?” he asked.
Cadrian’s eye widened, only slightly, and only for an instant, but for long enough to satisfy Hal. Her expression remained stoic, but there was a hint of consideration in it. Slowly, she pulled the dagger back.
“I’m not currently accepting new apprentices,” said Cadrian.
“I have no interest in being anyone’s apprentice,” said Hal. “I just want answers to my questions.”
Cadrian slowly folded her arms, the dagger disappearing into the sleeve of her smock.
“Your questions, be they of the Desert Lady or of your gemstone, do not have simple answers,” she said.
Hal waited for her to continue. She didn’t.
“Look, I need to know how to use my gem,” said Hal. “If it can be a weapon, I need to understand how. This isn’t something born from random curiosity. I have to do this.”
“I can see that,” said Cadrian. “Halrin… Who or what is it that you wish to kill?”
Hal flinched at the question, feeling his anger stir along with his desperate need for revenge.
“The dragon,” he said. “Along with the man who was riding it.”
A small, mocking smile played across Cadrian’s lips, the first real expression Hal had seen on her face. She picked up her palette and set her brush down on top of it.
“Clean these,” she said, passing them to Hal. “There’s a wastewater bin not far from the well. Use that.”
“And if I do, you’ll tell me what I want to know?”
Cadrian said nothing. It was unnerving being the recipient of her one-eyed gaze when she accompanied it with cold silence. It made Hal feel like she was staring into his soul.
CHAPTER 14
Hal found the wastewater bin and spent several minutes scrubbing at the palette and brush. There wasn’t much paint left on either, but what was there clung to the tools stubbornly. His sleeves were wet by the time he finished, and he hurried back to Cadrian’s hut, feeling like a boy running an errand for a sweet cake.
She was waiting for him outside, though now that the sun had just set, all Hal could make out was her silhouette. He approached slowly, still holding her painting tools, knowing by now that he would have to be patient if he wanted to learn from her.
Cadrian lifted her hand into the air and turned in a slow circle. She’d taken her smock off, and there was something slightly lurid about looking at the shadowed curves of her body, her tunic clinging tight to her breasts, and pants tight to her thighs.
“The gem you wear around your neck is a ruby,” said Cadrian. “Those who learn to use the magic of the ruby are known as Disciples of the Ruby Path. Followers of Darros, The Flame, at least as the Temple of Lyris teaches it.”
Cadrian didn’t wait for Hal’s input. She shifted one of her hands back down to her midriff, and then swung her other arm in an arc over it. One of her palms slid across the other, the movement similar to how Hal might have slid a piece of parchment across the table back in Roth’s library.
A tiny spark ignited from that point of contact, and immediately after, flames followed in the wake of Cadrian’s hands. It was as though she’d hidden a vial of lantern oil in her sleeve and somehow chosen the perfect moment to fling it forth and set it alight, except for the fact that the flames hovered in the air around her. She swept both hands in an arc in front of her, and the flames moved to adopt the shape at her command, creating a perfect circle of fire.
“A ruby, primed with emotional essence, can allow a person to control fire, with enough practice,” she said. “It cannot create fire on its own, but through the use of heat sources and eventually just spark rings, one can coax flames into existence.”
Cadrian gestured with her hand. The ring of fire ros
e into the air. On her fingers, Hal saw the ruby she was using to work the magic pulsing with crimson light, the aura of its glow surrounding Cadrian and lending a demonic tone to her features.
It was more than just the glow of the ruby. Her eyes were glowing, and Hal felt himself leaning forward out of both curiosity and disbelief. Her eyes were glowing with pure, red light, like a sunset pressed against thick clouds, but even brighter. It stole away some of their expressiveness, replacing it with unreadable, intense, red color.
Cadrian twisted her hand and then brought it down in a guiding movement. The circle of flame lowered over Hal. He stayed stock still in its center, feeling the heat of the fire just out of range of igniting his clothing.
Alright. I’m impressed.
“Flame Circle,” said Cadrian. “A common spell that can be cast relatively easily by any gem mage capable of entering a Ruby Trance.”
She waved her hand and the flames disappeared, along with the glow in her eyes. Hal had so many questions, and jumped straight to the most important of them.
“Can you teach me how to do that?” he asked.
Cadrian signaled for him to follow her back inside her home, taking the brush and palette and setting them away in a small chest next to her canvas. She gestured for him to sit at her table, but remained standing herself.
“Learning to walk the Ruby Path is not an easy thing,” she said. “And I do not teach it in the lazy manner the Keeper and the Temple of Lyris use to churn out their gem knights and gem mages.”
Hal shrugged.
“I’m a blank slate,” he said. “I don’t know anything about that. You can teach me however you want.”
Cadrian watched him with her one eye. In the light of her lantern and outside the influence of her magic, Hal could now see that it was a rich, beautiful hazel. It seemed to pour with twice as much emotion as normal, pouring out emotion both for itself and the one she’d lost.
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