by S.J. Drew
I'm grieving. No doubt you'll ask why. Then I'll ask you why you're so sad. You may not want to tell me, and I can't blame you for that," he answered, still staring at the stars.
Now she was staring at him with her mouth hanging open. "You-you're a stranger to me?" she stuttered.
"Aren't I?"
"Well, I guess. But I never thought about it like that. I keep thinking I'm the stranger here."
"It cuts both ways. We don't know you, you don't know us. And we've been pretty rude by trying to keep you out. That's hardly fair to you. It's probably not fair to us either." He finally turned to her. "You seem like a nice person, and you've been paying more attention than we've given you credit for."
"Thank you, I guess," she stammered, blushing. "I have to say, I'm surprised you're talking to me like this. You're always so quiet with the rest of the group."
"I'm something of a stranger too. I arrived here shortly before you did." He turned back to the guard rail.
"I guess something bad happened to cause you to come here. To cause you to be grieving."
He nodded, but offered no explanation.
"I am sorry for whatever happened."
They sat there a few moments in contemplative silence.
"Why do you grieve?" he asked, a slight quaver of emotion remaining in his voice.
"I've lost my family. They aren't dead, but I can't ever see them again."
"Why not?"
"Because the Order sent me here to do what I have to do. I can't go back because...," she paused. "I'll be honest. Either he'll take it well or he won't, but I'm not going to lie," she thought.
"Because why?" he prompted.
"Because if I went back I'd put them in danger."
"You were sent here to deflect the danger from your own country?" he asked, a touch bitterly.
"Yes. But it wasn't my choice, and I don't think it's fair. I've put all of you in danger, and you've had no say in the matter."
"You could go back."
"The Order told my family that I'm dead. Gods, would they worry if they knew what happened to me. I might be dead in less than a year anyway. Best to let them move on," she answered, her voice suddenly choked with sobs.
"That's harsh. Why don't you defy the Order and go see them anyway?"
"I can't do that. Community comes first. Family comes first. If the Order feels it's safer for me to stay away, then I'll stay away. No matter how much it hurts." Tears streamed down her face. "I'm sorry I've put you all in danger too. Maybe I should go back."
He sighed and turned to face her. "You're crying? Gods, I'm sorry."
"No, don't be sorry you spoke your mind. It's kind of nice. No, 'nice' isn't the right word. I don't know the right word," she sighed. Mentally she added, "Curse this language."
"Aidan said you cried a lot," he said, offering her a handkerchief.
"I can't help it. I've never been alone. Never in my life. I've always had my parents. My sisters. My brothers. My friends. Then the Order leaves me alone in a strange city, filled with strange people, who speak a language I don't know. I seem to be the only woman my age, I'm not a fighter, and I'm the Avatar of a god. I'm empty inside. I've lost everyone and everything I've ever known and loved." Then she dissolved completely into sobs.
Davin stared a moment, surprised. Then he turned back to the stars until her sobs subsided into sniffles, looking very embarrassed.
"I'm sorry," she sighed. "I should be stronger."
"Don't be sorry you're sad. I think I understand why you do seem to cry so much. We haven't been very nice to you. You've been isolated by gender, custom, and language."
"The men are being nicer. I'm allowed to play chess now."
"They aren't a bad lot. Just a little dense. Most came here to fight and be warriors. Most don't understand those that came here because they had no other place to go."
"Like you?" she inquired.
"Like me. And like you. I could tell you carried a burden of sorrow. I didn't realize it ran so deep. I'm sorry I treated you so lightly when you first sat down with me."
She looked him over. "I'm surprised you're talking to me like this. So honestly? Is that the right word? I don't think you talk to the men like this."
"I don't, because they don't understand. They've left their families and friends to come here, to be great warriors, to defend the demians in righteous battles against bandits and evil warlords," he replied, disgust evident in his voice. "Being able to fight doesn't make one great. And being on the wrong side of the law doesn't make one evil." He looked at her sharply, as though startled. "But perhaps I've said too much," he commented darkly, seeing her puzzled look.
It took her a moment to process the information. She was still not fluent, and heavy emotion was causing him to lower his voice. Then she smiled reassuringly. "It's alright. I only understood half of that."
"That's a bit of a relief, frankly. You're easy to talk to. I didn't expect that."
"It's easy to talk to a person who's willing to listen. I'm glad you're talking to me. It's nice to be treated like a person again. It's nice that you've decided to at least try to trust me."
"I really hadn't planned on saying so much, but you do seem to understand my feelings, if not my words, and what's said is said. It can't be taken back."
"Would you take it back?" she asked.
He thought about this. "That remains to be seen." He stood up. "It's getting late. I should return to my cottage, and so should you."
She stood up as well.
He gestured to the natural ladder.
Cautiously and slowly she climbed down, with a death grip on the branches.
He nimbly climbed down and instead of using the proper ladder, swung from the lowest branch and fell to the ground in a graceful crouch. "Goodnight, Eliora."
"Goodnight, Davin. And thank you for giving me a chance to show that I can be trusted, like a real friend and not just someone who plays board games in the evenings. Even if you didn't mean to talk so much."
He smiled, then turned and walked away.
She returned to her cottage, her heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks.
Donnan was practicing with his fighting coach when he heard Blake call out his name.
"Damn it," snapped the grizzled man. "Well, go see what he wants."
Donnan ran out of the practice yard to the front of the house. "What is it? Clancy hates to be interrupted."
"Dwyer would like to see you before you go in for tutoring this afternoon."
"About what?" he asked suspiciously.
"I think he's got a job for you."
"What kind of job?"
"I don't know. I'm just the messenger," Blake replied irritably.
"I thought that was my job," he retorted. "Fine. I'll stop by the temple. But I don't want to be late for tutorin'."
"No, no. Of course not," Blake smirked.
"Go away," he ordered, but affectionately.
Blake bowed with a flourish. "Of course, my Lord," he said in a low voice, then quickly dashed away.
"Why do I put up with him?" he thought. Then he returned to his fighting lessons. Clancy was teaching him the basics of swordplay, and had been quite surprised by Donnan's strength. Now he was teaching Donnan how to use that strength to compensate for a lack of skill.
After lunch he went to the temple and tried to go to Dwyer's study, but found himself lost in the twisty passages. "How hard can this be?" he thought irritably. "Where is that study?"
"Follow me," came a raspy voice from the shadows.
He jumped and glared at the darkling. "Stop doing that," he snapped.
"You called us, Master. We must obey."
"Alright, then I'll have to stop doing that," he thought, disturbed. "Well, lead on," he said.
The darkling disappeared into the shadows.
"I hate doing this," he thought, but followed anyway.
The creature lead him to the study within a couple of minutes, but Donnan elected to emerge on the outside and knock politely.
"Enter," called Dwyer. "Ah, good, I'm glad you got Blake's message."
"Where is he, anyway?"
"He has duties, my Lord. Please sit. I have some good news for you."
"What?"
"I've gotten you a job, so you can fill up your mostly empty afternoons."
He glared at the priest. "My afternoon aren't empty. I study Arcana or I work out."
"Well, that's good to hear. Don't worry, this shouldn't take up too much of your time. I know you wouldn't want to miss your tutoring sessions," he said with a smile, which Donnan did not return. "I've contracted your services for the Iron Guild."
"What services?"
"Your messenger services, of course."
"Did you tell them what I am?" he demanded, suddenly nervous.
"No, of course not. Some of their activities require more discretion than others, and so they were looking for a more discreet messenger. Through a network of contacts, we've made this business arrangement."
"Discreet? You mean they're smugglin' somethin'."
The priest gave a slight nod. "Your honesty may be an asset elsewhere, but in these circles, it would help if you developed a little more tact."
"I call 'em like I see 'em. Does the Guild know it's the Order helpin' them?"
"Not as such. Asking too many questions is also not an asset in these circles."
He thought about this. "And what if I can't be trusted? What if I find out what they're smugglin' and where?"
"That is entirely up to you," he answered, with a small, ugly smile. "I have no doubt you've tracked where we've sent you."
Donnan tried not to look surprised. "So what if I have?" he challenged.
"I find it encouraging."
"What? Why?" he asked, ironically
