by Robert Beers
* * * *
“You call this food?”
“Maybe ‘e got th’ pots mixed up an’ we're getting’ whut was ta go to th’ dogs.”
Both Flynn and Neely looked at the masses of overcooked stew laid in front of them with a mixture of disgust and astonishment. They sat at a plank table just inside the Ortian mess tent. Charity sat opposite Flynn and nodded her thanks to the server as he placed a smaller portion in front of her.
Flynn prodded a greasy looking lump of gray meat and shuddered, “I ain't sure even the dog's ‘ud eat this.”
“C'mon. ‘s not that bad, just spice it up a bit an’ use lossa bread fer dippin'. Goes down easy iffn ya does that,” The trooper sitting across from them demonstrated his technique with gusto.
Neely started to rise, “Uh uh, I ain't that desperate fer food yet. There's still some travel rations in me saddlebag, hard biscuits is better'n what I sees here.”
“Oh sit back down Neely, it's not half as bad as it looks,” Charity looked up at the tracker with a glob of the stuff attached to the chunk of bread she held in her right hand.
Neely returned to his place on the bench warily, “Even half as bad's bad enough.”
“Just try it, you too Flynn, we're guests here and you don't want us to be seen as rude, do you?”
“No miss Charity,” The big man looked at the stuff in front of him apprehensively.
“Neely...”
“Ahh skrud, gonna die eventually I guess.”
“Neely...”
The tracker tore a chunk of the dark bread from one of the loaves on the table, “Sorry Charity. Ok, Flynn, here goes. Come in an’ get me iffn I start to sink.”
The trooper across from him smiled as he bit into another bread/stew combination, “Ah, go on mate, eat. Good fer whut ails ya.” This was said around the dripping mouthful.
Sergeant Travers chuckled, “Yeah, Neely, go on. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.”
That earned him a black glare as the tracker bit into a small section of the bread after he dipped it.
The others watched closely for his reaction. Neely chewed thoughtfully and then nodded, “Ain't horrible, tasted worse.”
Flynn grinned and tore into his with relish, “Good'nuff fer me.”
Travers and Charity watched the pair as they ate, apparently with some enjoyment. After a while the Sergeant could contain himself no longer, “Uh ... are you actually liking that?”
Neely looked up and nodded.
Flynn grinned around a large mouthful, “Umm hmm.”
“Ain't you gonna dig in?” Neely pointed to Charity's bowl with his hunk of bread.
Travers looked out of the corner of his eye at the woman sitting next to him, “Well?”
She sighed, “I suppose so.”
The first bite surprised her. In spite of its bland scent and overcooked appearance, the stew was actually fairly flavorful, with a slight pepperiness on the back of the pallet. Her eyes widened with her surprise and she took another bite, this one a bit larger than the first.
“I know whatcha mean,” Neely chuckled, “surprised me too.”
“Would you like some cold tisane?”
Most of those at the table turned at the voice. Flynn and Neely kept eating. A boy stood behind and to the left of Charity holding a large pitcher glistening with condensation. At first glance he looked to be ten, maybe twelve years old. His hair was straight, cut to just above his shoulders and parted in the middle. He looked at them calmly out of deep brown eyes that showed a lot of intelligence, “Tisane, it's cold. Would you like some? That stew can be pretty peppery.”
Charity looked more closely at the boy. There was something about him that smacked of the exotic. As she considered his appearance, it struck her that it wasn't any one thing in particular but the whole of the boy's features that seemed unusual. For one thing, his coloring had an olive cast instead of the peaches and browns worn by the engineers and soldiers. His eyes had a slant to them, not unlike a cats and it looked like the ear showing through his thick black hair was decidedly pointed. If she wasn't mistaken the boy had Elf in him.
She turned her head slightly to check on the others’ reaction. It seemed there was none. The Sergeant and the other troopers looked at the boy with nothing except interest in what he offered.
“Sure boy, you come just in time, fill ‘er up,” The trooper next to Sergeant Travers held out his mug for a refill.
“Same here boy, there's a good lad,” Travers duplicated his trooper's gesture.
The boy tipped some of the chilled tisane into each of the proffered mugs and then turned to Charity, “Would you like some lady? It's quite refreshing.”
She held her mug out for him, “Yes, please, it smells interesting, kind of sweet and sharp all at once.”
“It's the limmins, the cooks brought them up from Ort. They add a nice flavor to the tisane. Sometimes they make a drink from the juice of the limmins only, it's real good on a hot day.”
Charity sampled the tisane, “Umm. Nice. I'll have to try some of that limmin juice.”
“What's your name?”
She looked up at the question, “What did you say?”
“I think ‘e wants ta spark ya, Miss Charity,” Flynn snickered from his side of the table.
“Boy oughta watch it, she'd take ‘im three falls outta three, no problem,” Neely joined in the ribbing.
To his credit the boy gave no sign of being bothered by the banter, but kept his gaze on Charity, “I asked you what your name is. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I guess it's Miss Charity from what the fat man with the red hair said.”
Charity hid her smile behind a hand while Neely and the troopers erupted in full-throated laughter, “Actually it's just Charity, What's your name?”
The boy nodded, “Circumstance.” He smiled, “Some of the engineers here have told me it's an unusual name but Ethan told me it suits me, so I guess it's all right.”
“Ethan? My brother and I knew an Ethan. He used to be a watchman in this horrible little town called Silgert.” She laughed softly, “I remember we found him sleeping off a drunk outside of the town. He was running away. He was also one of the first people to really help us while we were out in the wild.”
“Yes, he told us that story.”
Charity looked at the boy sharply, “Told you that story? You know him? Where is he?”
“This boy a part of your past you didn't tell us about?” Neely asked while he dipped into more of the stew.
“No ... not that I know of. But he is a link, at least I think so.” Charity turned back to Circumstance, “Where do you know this Ethan from? Is he the one Adam and I used to know?”
He looked thoughtful, “Adam? The people in Access talked about an Adam, he passed through there with this Wizard named Milward last year. They said he saved most of their men from some kind of mining accident.”
Charity tried to say something but no words would come, Adam, alive? Alive? Her thoughts whirled as events from the past few years flashed dream-like through her mind. That soldier, the one that tried to rape her in the woods outside of Dunwattle, He had lied to her. For a brief instant she wished he could be here alive so she could put an arrow through his black heart all over again. All this time and she'd been led to believe her brother was dead.
“They ... they said he was ... was there, last year? And ... Milward, the Wizard, was there with him?” The words finally came out.
“Seems your brother's alive, Miss Charity,” Flynn's rumble came from across the table, “an’ he could be close by. Wanna go look fer ‘im?”
Neely stood up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sounds like a plan to me, I'll go get th’ horses.”
“Hold on there,” Travers’ voice, sharp with the tone of command cut through the rest of the voices rising at the table. He stood there in his place casting his glare at each of the others in turn, “Am I mistaken or did you not pledge to fight with u
s against those villains who butchered our Emperor's niece?”
Charity felt torn between honor and urgency, “But ... my brother...”
“Doesn't matter,” Travers waved her protest away with an abrupt motion of his hand, “You gave your word, all three of you. Are you telling me that it's something that can be taken back at the slightest change of the wind?”
“Just a flickin’ minute there, Sergeant,” Neely took a step toward Travers. “You spend a coupla years trampin’ around th’ country with this woman and then you kin think about talkin’ to her that way.”
The Sergeant's brows creased together in a frown as he gathered his retort, but Charity broke in on the impending melee, “No, he's right.”
“What?” Neely, Flynn and Travers spoke at once.
She brushed a tear away from her cheek as she turned back to put her forearms onto the table, “I said Sergeant Travers is right. I ... we gave our word to help them. Searching for my brother is going to have to wait.” She looked up at them and flashed a weak smile, “At least I know he's alive, that's something, isn't it?”
“He is alive.”
Charity turned her head to look into Circumstance's eyes.
The half-elf boy looked back at her gravely, “Your brother's alive, I can feel it.”
She looked at him again for a long moment. It seemed as if everyone else at the table receded into the distance, leaving the boy and her all by themselves.
“Who are you?”
Circumstance did not flinch from her gaze, “You don't mean just my name, do you?”
“No, I don't.”
The boy breathed out a sigh, as if in relief, “May I sit down?”
Charity looked up at the trooper sitting next to her, the one who first urged Flynn and Neely to try the stew, “Would you mind...?”
He rose hastily, “No, I'll get me a spot over there. You an’ the kid have yer talk.”
Circumstance took the trooper's place and half-turned so he could look at the woman seated next to him, “I have something I have to do, and I'm pretty sure you and your brother are part of it.”
“Go on,” Charity nodded to indicate she was listening.
“Ethan came with me to this place. He left to go back home after he made sure I'd be ok. You see I ran away before anyone else was up, this feeling of ... of a destiny, I guess, was too strong to ignore. I had to find you, or your brother, it doesn't matter who I found first. Eventually all three of us will be together, it's something we have to do, just the three of us. Anyway, Ethan caught up with me in the woods, just about the same time some Garlocs did.”
“Garlocs?” Flynn, Neely and Travers repeated their unison trick.
Charity glanced at them and then returned to face Circumstance, “You boys should join a troupe with an act like that. Go on Circumstance, you were saying...?”
He smiled at Charity's joke, “We tricked the Garlocs by smearing ourselves with Skunkbush juice and after washing it off we climbed up the mountain to Access.”
“Skunkbush juice,” Neely's eyebrows climbed into his hairline, “what's Skunkbush juice?”
Circumstance glanced at the tracker, “It's what I called it, I don't know its real name. We crushed the leaves and rubbed then on our skin. It made us stink, really stink, bad enough that the Garlocs went the other way.” He looked back at Charity, “It's part of what happened to me. I know things.”
“You know things?” Charity had an inkling of where this was going.
“I don't know how. When I was in the woods I knew where to find food, which plants could be used for what I needed at the time and other things, a few of them Ethan taught me, but most of it I just knew.” He looked at his hands, “The magik surprised me.”
“Blimey,” Flynn's whisper spread across the table, “did he say magik?”
“Sounded like it,” Nelly murmured, “now shut yer cake'ole, I wanna hear this.”
“What kind of magik, Circumstance?” Charity urged the boy on with his story.
He shrugged, “We found a place in the forest after we left Access that had a lot of mushrooms. We picked enough of the ones that were good to eat and then tried to get a campfire going so we could cook them but I got impatient and started it myself.”
“And that was the magik? Some people are just better at making fire than others, that's all,” Charity smiled at the boy.
“She's right kid, ain't nothin’ magikal ‘bout that,” Neely added.
“But all I did is wave my hand over the wood,” Circumstance replied. “Even Ethan was surprised.”
“Oh,” Travers, Flynn and Neely each edged slightly away from the boy.
“So you started the cookfire with just a wave of your hand?” Charity mused. “Can you do anything else?”
“I'm pretty sure, but I haven't tried anything else. I've been a little afraid of what might happen. I can also keep anyone from attacking me. No, that's not right, they can attack me, but they won't touch me, except when I trip over something,” He flushed pink.
Charity leaned toward Circumstance, “Something happened?”
“I'll say something happened,” An of the Engineer one table over spoke up. They turned to see who was speaking.
“Circ here was trying to finish off one of his many errands for Gas-puke, the chief's assistant. That whittle would rather his tongue were torn out by the roots than admit it, but this lad here's saved his bacon more than once. It was when the troops first arrived. Circ was running up along one of the tent avenues when this trooper and he collided. Couldn't be helped but this fellow had a temper and decided to take it out on the boy, nearly killed him. If it wasn't for Durston-Kres stepping in with Colling-Faler he would have.”
Circumstance shook his head once with a small movement meant only for Charity's eyes. “That's not quite true, the soldier would have died. I could feel it starting to happen,” He kept his voice low so the other tables wouldn't hear his confession.
“We'll keep that to ourselves, ok?” Charity lowered her voice to a whisper.
“Ok.”
Flynn hoisted a mug full of the cold tisane in a half-salute, “Those two sound like a couple a stand-up fellers, this Colling-Faler an’ what's ‘is name.”
“Durston-Kres,” The Engineer replied.
“Yeah, Durston-Kres. Funny kinda name that, but he stood up fer th’ kid. What happened to th’ trooper what beat on the boy?” Flynn tipped some of the tisane down his throat.
Circumstance shrugged again, “Engineer Durston-Kres punished him while Engineer Third Colling-Faler made sure I wasn't injured.”
“Thrashed him good is what the boy means,” The helpful Engineer added.
“The Engineer third told them all the same would happen to them if they tried to hurt me,” Circumstance looked embarrassed.
“You'd like to stand on your own wouldn't you?” Charity regarded the boy.
He didn't answer her statement directly, “I can take care of myself. I wasn't lying when I said no one could touch me if I didn't let them, except of course ... you know.”
“Could be part of your magik. My brother, Adam, is magik, I've seen it work. He was a little surprised himself when it first showed in him.” Charity toyed with a bit of the stew using the spoon the stewards gave her. “Tell me more about how you know he's alive.”
“It's more of a feeling than a knowing,” Circumstance screwed up his face as he tried to put into words what was inside of him. “I feel him ... here,” He tapped his forefinger on his chest. “But sometimes, if I try real hard, it's almost like I can reach out and touch him. It's strange because I can't do it with anyone else.”
“Do you know where he is, can you feel him like that now?” A wild hope rose inside Charity.
Circumstance shut his eyes as he turned slowly from side to side. “He's over there,” His hand pointed across the table toward the far right-hand corner of the tent.
Charity and the others at the table turned their heads in the direction the
boy pointed.
“He's here, in th’ tent?” Neely stood and craned his neck trying to search the crowd before he realized he had no idea what Charity's brother would look like.
“No, not in the tent. Over that way maybe a thousand or so miles, but over that way for sure.” Circumstance opened his eyes and nodded at Charity, “He's over there, I know it.”
“You know where that is Charity?” Neely's expression had turned grim.
“Neely, it's her brother,” Flynn looked up at the tracker.
“What are you talking about?” Travers looked from Neely to Flynn, “What's he talking about?”
“That's what I'd like to know.” Charity locked eyes with the tracker, “What are you talking about Neely? Where is Adam?”
“If this boy's directions are on th’ money, your brother's smack dab in th’ middle o’ Grisham.”
Chapter Seven
“C'mon you, up!”
Ethan clawed his way to consciousness with a fist balled and ready for mayhem, but the soldier who'd kicked him awake was already four other bedrolls down the line.
His days as a plebe in the watch came rushing back to him along with that terrible first morning when the reality of military life came crashing down on all of them. The Corporal woke each of the young men by striding down the hallway, tipping the cots over as he passed by while calling morning parade at the top of his voice. There was nothing personal in the man's actions then, any more than there was now. He was just doing his job in the most efficient manner possible.
“Hey, Berggren,” the half-whisper came from behind him.
“Hey, who?”
“Berggren, that's where you're from, ain'tcha?” The fellow jerked his head in the direction they'd marched from. “I remember hearing ya tell the Sergeant ‘bout yer family bein’ there. Me, I'm from Coevile, just a little place, ain't even on any o’ the maps. It's ‘bout a hunnert mile north o’ Berggren right up against the wood. You prolly never heard of it.”
Ethan nodded as he pulled on his boots. Out of the corner of his eye he saw another one of the Trading States crew keeping watch on himself and the others around him. “You're right. I've never head of it.”
