The stern faced man’s face grew even more austere. Pierait made to walk away but the man slapped a hand on Pierait’s shoulder.
“Pay is upfront. 5 Myca to stay. Meals separate,” the man stated abruptly. A desert currency, to be sure, but no place turned down raw precious stones either.
Pierait preferred directness so he was unperturbed. “I have pearls. I will give you one for every Myca you ask,” Pierait stated, which was ludicrously generous. A single pearl was worth 100 Myca easy. His friend Rienna had given him a satchel full of pearls long before they split, each pearl huge, snow white and perfectly round. It wasn’t unusual for the rest of their companions to break off on supply runs and Rienna’s neverending supply of pearls was the only currency they needed.
The man was skeptical but Pierait dropped the pearls into the man’s enormous, rough hand and watched the man inspect them. The man’s eyes widened then he narrowed them again.
“One is worth twenty times what I ask,” the man stated, both warily and honestly and Pierait knew then that the man could be trusted.
“Then it should cover meals and your silence,” Pierait explained, and the man nodded his understanding and snapped his burly fingers loudly. The little barmaid hurried over instantly, a brimming pitcher of ale at the ready.
The meal had been insignificant, hearty and filling but certainly nothing worth remembering. Once Pierait had had his fill, the young barmaid had reappeared and shyly offered to show Pierait his room. Pierait nodded and followed her wordlessly.
The hallways they walked down were cool and airy, wide passages dotted with potted ferns and draping, diaphanous curtains that reminded him of his friend Ashe’s silks. Pierait thought of his former companions more with each passing day. It wasn’t normal but he knew there must be a reason for it even if he couldn’t grasp it. As he got lost in his thoughts, he almost ran into the barmaid and she squealed a little, expecting him to knock her over. After traveling the ever-shifting sands, he was much spryer on land and was able to stop abruptly. She laid a hand on his chest apologetically and nudged him; he took the cue and stepped back from the door he was blocking. She dropped the key a couple of times trying to fit it in the keyhole and laughed nervously at the first, opting to bite her lip the second time.
Pierait watched with a sort of fascination, knowing the girl was nervous, but not entirely sure why. He wasn’t acting differently but she kept avoiding looking directly at his face. He was a stranger, he was handsome, he was a lot of things that couldn’t be helped, but he was not a mind reader; once it became obvious that her fumbling wasn’t a threat to him, he put it out of his mind.
She shuffled back from the doorframe once she loosed the door from its lock and held out the key to him, a great weighty brass thing that was warm from the nervous girl’s grip. He entered the room to look around rather than taking the key; the girl was anxious to go and shuffled around to stand in front of him. She grabbed his wrist and placed the key into his hand. Pierait watched in shock as the girl’s eyes fluttered and rolled back while a soft whimper escaped her lips and she pulled her hand away as if seared by a hot poker. She crumpled to her knees and her mouth was slack. She didn’t faint but her gaze was distant and blank.
Pierait knelt in front of the girl and waved his hand in front of her face. He reached for her hand and her eyes filled with fright and she scrambled away on hands and knees, her breaths quick and frantic as she gulped for air. He saw a pitcher of water on the bedside table, cool and fresh, and he poured her a glass and made her drink it.
“Sit on the bed and put your head between your knees before you pass out,” Pierait commanded and she shakily obeyed. He kept his distance and sat on the couch opposite that side of the bed. He waited until she calmed.
“You will explain what happened now,” Pierait stated bluntly, making it clear it wasn’t a question. Pierait was never good at comforting and he was far too perturbed by what had occurred to be anything but succinct.
The girl still shook and tears hung in her eyes without falling, but she clasped her hands and straightened her back, looking directly in his eyes now. As shaken as she was, she certainly wasn’t a coward.
“I’ve never… touched one of the Soulless before and I was right to avoid it,” the girl admitted miserably. Her eyes widened frantically and she waved her hands apologetically. “I’ve nothing against the Soulless, mind you—my own best friend’s sister is one of your kind, but she was sent off to Morgaze before her 14th birthday and kept to herself, she did!”
The barmaid was wringing her hands miserably and Pierait was growing impatient. This barmaid was an earthy looking girl, pale for a desert dweller, but still no stranger to the sun. She had the odd brown hue of hair that told him she had been a blonde child and as her hair had darkened, the sun had added copper to the darker bits. It had an odd rippling effect whenever she moved even slightly. Her deep green eyes seemed sad even when she smiled and he knew there was more to it but she wasn’t in any great hurry to enlighten him. He could see that pushing would not do him any good.
“I’m unique, you know, old powers, older than elemental. In my blood, not a gift. When I touch someone, I can… see into their mind. But you know, Soulless are humans but not quite, crafted as a human of course but ultimately simpler, even though most of us don’t really understand it. Something more and not a thing really planned by the old gods even, and I knew it was a bad idea to do it, but Urys insisted. I’m rambling, aren’t I?” the girl fumbled, the tears she held spilling free. She pulled off the thick headband restraining her hair to wipe at them and Pierait watched her hair ripple in the strip of sunlight she sat in.
“Urys is the innkeeper, then,” Pierait said, if only because he knew no one else here.
The girl nodded miserably and started to braid her hair with nervous energy, avoiding his gaze again. Her fingers struggled with the task but did not give up at it.
“We don’t mean any harm, sir; Urys just doesn’t want any trouble, so he always sends me to lead our customers and hand them the key,” the girl explained, her voice rising in its renewing anxiety.
“Your name,” Pierait said, steepling his fingers over the bottom of his face and watching the dust dance in that solid strip of sunlight. It was a demand but he said it softly. She was nervous enough as it was.
“L-Lyria, sir,” she offered shakily, but she clamped her jaw stubbornly and tilted her chin up in an effort to be bold.
“You’re not originally from here,” Pierait said, in that unnerving way he had of speaking without room for doubt.
“I’ve never known life outside of this city, sir, but they say I’m from one of the northern tribes of Vieres,” Lyria said, surprised that he could tell but not dodging around it. It was common knowledge that the Northern tribes had been gradually wiped out and some not even so long ago. Most of the tribes were tattooed and there were places where some were superstitious and believed those survivors were cursed. Her kind was markedly different from the tattooed tribes, so much so that many had never heard of them. Pierait realized he had not offered his name yet, though.
“Pierait.”
“Sir?”
“Not ‘sir’, Lyria; my name is Pierait,” he said, this time smiling with wry amusement.
“Oh, Pierait then,” she said, trying out the name. It was an odd name, sounding like “irate” with a p before it, although not literally because doing so would give you “pirate”, which it didn’t really sound like at all.
“Why did you flinch? What did you see?” Pierait asked, getting back to what he wanted to know.
Lyria shivered at the memory and rubbed at her arms, even though it was hardly cold enough for that.
“Sir… Pierait, sorry… I could feel the Void. It’s not something a human can really comprehend, any more than you can comprehend the full range of human emotion. When I touched you, I felt like I was falling so fast that I had to shed my body to withstand it, for lack of a better description. Like
I said, I’m not a usual human myself—magic doesn’t affect me, my soul cannot be separated from my being, my blood protects me from things that a lot of humans are vulnerable to. I don’t have a ruling element, much like Soulless, because the old gods simply held Creation and Death and the elementals were born of separating their powers. The oldest souls like mine are mostly gone—old witch-hunts all but wiped us out. Only the souls born of the elements return to the Founts, after all. Much like the Soulless, again, because my kind was different from the majority. The elementals tried to wipe out the old gods too, but the old gods didn’t give up all of their secrets, and my kind still have ours as well.”
Pierait was fascinated once Lyria had focused on her story. Morgaze barely had information on this at all, and what was there had been in a book of tales; Pierait knew that many of the tales were merely fiction or aggrandized stories peppered with so much exaggeration. This kind she spoke of were called Diviners; children with the subtle powers of prediction, protection, persuasion and a host of other things they had to hide. Like her, many had coppery brown hair and green eyes; their enemies homed in on those features and some very unfortunate ones that resembled them were often thrown in with them to be slaughtered. They were also considered natural witches and Morgaze, a city of elemental magics, had vilified them as abominations. Pierait did not know why the Soulless were accepted before the Diviners, but then the books had been adamant that Diviners were no longer a threat. He could not fathom how they ever were as he looked at Lyria struggling to regain her courage.
“The mages of Morgaze claimed to be the only true magicians of pure blood. What are the Diviners then?” Pierait asked, trying to subdue his curiosity.
Lyria’s eyes widened a bit.
“Diviners… I haven’t heard that term in a long time,” Lyria mused, then shook her head to focus on the question. “Elemental magic is imbued on new souls, and the magicians of Morgaze think it is tied to blood but in truth it is mostly due to their proximity to the elemental founts found in magic cities and then in small part to the magic lingering in the blood of the parents. No, they are not of the pure blood by any means…”
“The Diviners are true children of the old gods and the first ones, as my mother told it. Before the old gods slept, they had fornicated with some of the northerners that visited them, taking advantage of their purity. Diviners do not usually bear Soulless or elemental children for that reason. The old gods are not to be underestimated. If they had not chosen sleep, they would have razed this world to destroy their wayward children, the elementals. They are said to sleep to dream of ways to preserve this world, but if they have to wake before the Dream, we are all doomed.”
Pierait had been so engaged in her words that he now sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with his hands folded below his chin. When Lyria turned her gaze to meet his eyes again, she flinched at the intensity of that interest. She seemed to realize that she was sitting on the bed that would belong to him and shot to her feet to make her excuses to leave. In truth, she was more horrified that she had told him so much. Her mother had warned her against that.
“If you know what you need to know, I should take my leave now. Urys doesn’t hire much help and there’s a lot to be done in a day,” Lyria explained a little too quickly and dipped in an abrupt curtsy. Pierait raised a hand and frowned.
“What will you tell him?” Pierait asked, biting the corner of his lip.
“Urys? I’m not proud of it, Pierait, but I’m not bad at glossing over the truth. I’ll tell him there’s no need to worry, that you’re just passing through.”
Pierait nodded and she spun out of the room, doing her best to slow the door enough to not slam it in her haste. There was more to be done tomorrow; tonight was for rest.
Pierait had slept well; a little too well, since he had fallen asleep well before the evening sun and was waking with first light. His throat was dry and he reached for the pitcher at his bedside, surprised as it hit his throat ice-cold and then almost choked as it froze his teeth. Had Lyria come back often to refill it? He frowned deeply. Possibility. What was wrong with him that his thoughts were becoming so against his nature? It wasn’t the first time he noticed this.
Still sore from solid sleep, Pierait stretched his body out along the bed. He hadn’t used the thin blankets and had only removed his boots, shirt and hat before sleep quickly claimed him upon lying down. The one dagger he used to slice fruit or bread still hung at his belt, a shallow impression of it on his belly.
He heard the door creak and he sat up abruptly. As Lyria’s head poked around the door, he relaxed visibly.
“Ah, sorry, Pierait; I was just checking on your curtains. I leave them be for the night breezes to come in, but the morning sun on the rooms of this side can get a little harsh,” she explained in the hushed voice of someone who knows you aren’t quite awake yet. “Are you staying another night?”
Pierait shook his head. “I have a long way to go; I’ll be leaving once I visit the market for more supplies this afternoon.”
Lyria looked disappointed and again he was confused. She confused him a lot, but she didn’t ask questions like others did. His former companions had mostly left him be but they asked a good deal of questions and he didn’t often have the answers they sought. She was avoiding his gaze again and blushing. He scratched at his bare chest and it occurred to him that most young girls just weren’t used to addressing shirtless men on their beds. He made haste to dress and get up off the bed.
“Are you escorting me out?” Pierait asked, his focus shifting to what he needed as he started packing up.
“If that’s no trouble…” Lyria confirmed politely.
“Not at all,” he agreed, standing as he adjusted the pack on his shoulders. “After you, Lyria.”
They reached the tavern area where Urys was wiping up the counter and Lyria hurried over to the exit way as Urys walked over to meet them. Urys did not drop the rag he carried, but gripped it unconsciously as they approached him. He watched Pierait, seeing that the young man seemed to be struggling with words.
Pierait had made the decision last night to do so and reached into the small satchel at his belt and grabbed up a handful of pearls.
“I’m taking Lyria with me. Just a loan and only for a handful of weeks, so she is worth this handful of pearls, to find a temporary replacement or two, if you prefer,” Pierait stated and Lyria’s jaw dropped for a moment before she gathered her composure. Urys was not able to recover so quickly.
“I…uh, of course, but only if it’s okay with her. I won’t have her bought into slavery either,” Urys fumbled about finding his words again. Pierait surmised that their relationship was more than merely employer-employee because the worry that flitted over Urys’s features seemed distinctly paternal.
Lyria’s worried eyes locked onto Pierait’s as she studied him. Those empty eyes that gave away nothing, but she must have found something to make up her mind.
“I’ll go,” Lyria softly decided, and those two words seemed to echo distantly, tattooing themselves on Pierait’s brain, like some of the things his mother had said to him in years past. Pierait was not sentimental, but he knew when words should be remembered.
They covered many blocks towards the market in silence; Pierait because silence was comfortable, Lyria because she was still in shock. She was nervous but excited to be leaving the only city she ever knew to travel to somewhere unknown with a handsome Soulless man. The realization of ‘unknown’ nearly stopped her in her tracks.
“Pierait, I don’t even know where we are going,” Lyria admitted.
Pierait, who had been walking ahead of her, slowed his stride enough to walk beside her how, not answering right away.
“It wasn’t for Urys to know, but you have every right,” Pierait said, his voice kinder than she had heard it before. “Although, you may not wish to go because it is not for the faint of heart.”
Lyria swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat
and waited patiently for him to continue.
“I’m going into the Barren Lands. You won’t be able to follow me past the Wall since the things there are ravenous for souls, but I want you to help me in the city of Sorrow and wait for me to return. It’s not just because of your power. I’ve been… changing lately and I might need to be watched. My void can’t kill you, so… okay, it is about your power, but it’s too confusing to sort out. Confusion is confusing.”
Lyria’s face went paler after he had said “Barren Lands” and he was sure she was going to refuse, but she had tightened her rosebud lips and nodded. She wanted to laugh nervously, but she was confused too.
“Pierait…” she started with some concern in her voice. “No one ever comes back from the Wall…”
Pierait did not answer at first, but he faced Lyria and melted her with a brilliant smile.
“No one has ever had a Purpose there, either,” Pierait said.
Pierait had purchased Lyria a pack to carry, albeit a smaller one with straps that held it on her securely but had a release if it had to be removed quickly. He did not know how Lyria would react to the Void he used to bail himself out of the hungry desert pitfalls, but a hard fist that had started to grow in his chest had eased greatly just deciding to take her along and he intended to see her safely across. He could not tell what she was thinking; she seemed to be well versed at hiding her emotions. There was a tightness to her movements but when she looked over at him and gave a reassuring smile, he at least knew she intended to be brave to the best of her ability. He nodded wordlessly to show his approval and they continued on in silence.
Chapter 2: Breath of Fresh Air
Rienna hadn’t been resting very well since the elder magician had his close call with death. Only the apprentices and her friends knew that they had only bought another handful of days’ time to finish preparations. When the elder could no longer hold onto the barrier or his life, they would have to be ready or all was for naught. It weighed heavily on all of them but, like Rienna, they tried to push gently and keep up morale.
The Truth about Heroes: Complete Trilogy (Heroes Trilogy) Page 29
