1311 lines
77 KiB
Plaintext
1311 lines
77 KiB
Plaintext
D D A A R R G O O N N N Z I N N N E || Volume 11
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-=========================================================+<OOOOOOOOO>|)
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D D AAAA RRR G GG O O N N N Z I N N N E || Number 10
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DDDDD A A R R GGGG OOOO N NN ZZZZZZ I N NN EEEE ||
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\\
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========================================================================
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DargonZine Distributed: 12/19/1998
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Volume 11, Number 10 Circulation: 679
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========================================================================
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Contents
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Editorial Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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Fate of a Child 1 Rena Deutsch Sy 979
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A Tale of Two Families 1 Jon Ballinger Melrin 1, 1016
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Lost and Found Cheryl Spooner Seber 20, 1016
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========================================================================
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DargonZine is the publication vehicle of the Dargon Project, a
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collaborative group of aspiring fantasy writers on the Internet.
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We welcome new readers and writers interested in joining the project.
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Please address all correspondance to <dargon@shore.net> or visit us
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on the World Wide Web at http://www.shore.net/~dargon. Back issues
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are available from ftp.shore.net in members/dargon/. Issues and
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public discussions are posted to the Usenet newsgroup rec.mag.dargon.
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DargonZine 11-10, ISSN 1080-9910, (C) Copyright December, 1998 by
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the Dargon Project. Editor: Ornoth D.A. Liscomb <ornoth@shore.net>,
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Assistant Editor: Jon Evans <godling@mnsinc.com>. All rights reserved.
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All rights are reassigned to the individual contributors. Stories
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and artwork appearing herein may not be reproduced or redistributed
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without the explicit permission of their creators, except in the case
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of freely reproducing entire issues for further distribution.
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Reproduction of issues or any portions thereof for profit is forbidden.
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========================================================================
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Editorial
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by Ornoth D.A. Liscomb
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<ornoth@shore.net>
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What a difference a year makes!
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About this time each year I take stock of how the previous year
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went, and take the opportunity to articulate goals for the coming year.
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On December 14th 1997 I wrote a lengthy post to our writers, summarizing
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how I felt 1997 had gone. Although it was a spectacular year and we
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printed 26 stories in eight issues, my biggest criticism was that
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despite printing all those stories, we only printed one new writer.
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That's a particularly aggregious shortcoming, because, as I alluded to
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in the Editorial for DargonZine 11-5, our mission is to reach out to
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aspiring new writers and help them improve their writing.
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As a response, in that same posting I articulated that our number
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one goal for 1998 should be publishing stories from six to eight new
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writers. Now, at the end of the year, I can take great pleasure in
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saying that with the publication of this issue, we will have introduced
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you to seven new writers this year. And perhaps you can appreciate the
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pride I feel when I announce that this particular issue contains *only*
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new writers -- the first time this has happened since we began printing
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Dargon stories back in 1986!
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Contrary to what you might assume, we didn't recruit more writers
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in order to make this happen. The biggest reason for this amazing
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turnaround has been the mentoring program which we established this
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spring. When new writers join our writing group, they not only have to
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learn how the group works, but also have to come to terms with a massive
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body of previously-printed material which constrains what they can
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portray in their stories. Having a partner to turn to who knows the
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group, how it works, and what will fly takes much of the frustration out
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of getting up to speed, and helps new writers produce viable stories
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faster.
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Before our mentoring program went into effect, a new writer might
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be with the group for a frustrating year or more before their first
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story would appear in our pages. A testament to how well the mentoring
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program has worked is that of the three new writers to appear in this
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issue, one has been with us five months, one four, and one just three
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months!
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So now that you understand why this is a big deal, let me introduce
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our newest faces! First up is Rena Deutsch, who begins a compelling
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series of stories about an abandoned young girl. Next is Jon Ballinger,
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who also prints the first chapter in a planned series dealing with his
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characters. And we close with Cheryl Spooner, who introduces us to some
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interesting new characters she will be following in future stories.
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However, Cheryl has already completed her next work, which is an
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unrelated standalone piece that should follow closely on the heels of
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this one.
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So join me in welcoming these three new writers who have recently
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joined us, and in celebrating all of the aspiring writers who have
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contributed the works that made this such a banner year for the Dargon
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Project.
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========================================================================
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Fate of a Child
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Part 1
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by Rena Deutsch
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<Rena3@hotmail.com>
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Sy 979
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"Mama!" A cry pierced through the air, silencing the birds that had
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been chirping happily all morning.
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"Mama!" The cry came from a little girl sitting under a tree, away
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from the trails. She was tied to the tree so that she could not leave
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the shelter the branches provided. Part of the rope was around her
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waist, the other around the trunk of the tree, with just enough rope in
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between to allow her to move around. Her small hands had tried for bells
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to untie the knot, but she didn't have the strength. Tears had left
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their marks as they made their way down her dirty cheeks. The food in
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her basket was long gone and only a small amount of water was left in
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the bottle.
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It wasn't the first time that the girl had been left tied to a tree
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by her mother. Prevented from wandering off, as she usually did when
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left alone for several bells, she spent her time weaving baskets. Today,
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however, no material was at her side that could have been used to make a
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new basket. She didn't remember how long she had been tied to the tree.
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What she did remember was the villagers shouting and yelling, calling
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her mother an evil one with a child spawned by Arom-Nok, and many other
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names she had never heard before.
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"Mama," she cried, but there was no answer. There hadn't been an
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answer for a long time.
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She remembered her mother picking her up in the middle of the night
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and carrying her away. The trip through the forest, away from the roads,
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never stopping, had been long. At dawn, they had sought shelter under a
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tree with a wall of branches. The branches were thick and long and
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reached almost to the ground. Mother and daughter cuddled up and went to
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sleep. When the girl awoke, her mother was gone and she was tied to the
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tree. The food basket and the water had been left within her reach.
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She settled down, tired from crying and trying to free herself.
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Usually her mother would return after a few bells, bringing berries and
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water, and sometimes a piece of meat. Today though, she was nowhere to
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be seen. It was dark underneath the tree, but when the girl peeked
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through the branches she could see the sun high up in the sky. She heard
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the wind rustling through the tree. The noise frightened her.
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"Mama," her voice was reduced to a whimper. Too afraid to cry or
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call out, she moved closer to the trunk, pulled her knees up, and hugged
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them. Her long red hair slid in front of her face and she brushed it
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back with her hand. The girl felt tears well up again in her eyes. With
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her head on her knees, she cried herself to sleep.
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The sound of chirping birds woke her. Peeking through the branches,
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she saw that the sun was still high up in the sky. She listened to the
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birds' song and then decided again to try and untie the knot. She was
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hungry and thirsty. Nothing edible was left in her basket. She had to
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find a way to free herself of the rope.
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"Mama? Mama, are you here?" Only the wind rustling in the leaves
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answered her. Her fingers searched for the knot in the rope. It was as
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tight as ever. She picked up a stick and tried to manipulate the knot.
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Her first attempts were unsuccessful; the stick broke before she made
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any progress. She tried another stick, but to no avail. Frustrated, she
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sat down. Suddenly, she remembered the sharp stone in her basket and
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reached for it. A quick smile appeared on her face. The stone in one
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hand, part of the rope in the other, she moved the sharp side over the
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rope and slowly started tearing the strands. Gathering all her strength,
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she worked until the rope was cut.
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A big smile appeared on her face when the final strands were
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severed. Overjoyed, she picked her belongings up and left the shelter
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under the tree. Pleased with herself, she wandered through the forest
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looking for a sign of her mother, hoping to find water and berries. Her
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energy quickly dissipated, but she continued on. Just when her thirst
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became almost unbearable, she stumbled onto a spring. The bushes around
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the spring were full with ripe berries. Happily, she quenched her thirst
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and ate all the berries she could reach, then splashed in the water till
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her feet were cold.
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"Mama will be happy when she hears about the berries." she thought,
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and then remembered. "Mama! I have to find her!" Quickly, she took her
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basket, filled the water bottle, and continued her search.
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Faint wood cutting noises reached her ear after she'd been
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wandering through the forest for most of the afternoon. She followed the
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sound and when voices became audible, she automatically hid in the
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bushes. Menes later, the girl's curiosity overwhelmed her caution and
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she moved closer, pausing to listen when she could hear pieces of the
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conversation.
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"... At least we have proof now that she worships Arom-Nok. I don't
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think we'll find the child."
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"You're right," a second voice agreed. "She couldn't survive a
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whole night in the forest alone. I'm sure by now the wolves have gotten
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to her and nothing will be left. A fitting end for Anna." The other men
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didn't reply, but continued to chop more wood.
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"We'll stone the wench at sunrise tomorrow, and then we won't have
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to worry about her any longer," a third man remarked in a low voice,
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continuing the discussion.
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"Yeah, this time there's no escaping for her," another man added.
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"We've been patient too long with her. Can't have anyone 'round who
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believes in evil gods. She's never seen for prayers. Says she talks to
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spirits of the forest. If you ask me, she plots with Arom-Nok and thinks
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of ways to do us harm. It'll be good to be rid of her. Should have done
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that long ago. We need to protect our children." No one in the group
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contradicted him. For a while only axes hitting wood could be heard.
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Finally one of the men broke the silence. "Let's head home! We've
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got enough wood. Besides, there's only a bell left till sunset."
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Gathering the wood, the men loaded it onto a wagon without further
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comments. In silence they left the cutting site, pulling the wagon
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behind them.
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Anna crawled out from under the bushes, confused about what she'd
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heard. "They know my name! They know where Mama is!" the thoughts
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swirled around in her mind, "If I follow them, I'll find Mama!" Focusing
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on the part she had understood, Anna followed the men through the
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forest, keeping her distance.
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When she recognized the path to the village Anna stopped, thinking
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and hoping to find a way to her mother. She felt tired from walking
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through the forest for most of the afternoon. At the edge of the forest,
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she curled up under a bush, and watched the sun set. In the distance
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wolves were howling. Anna sat up, frightened. Only with her mother
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nearby did she feel safe when she heard the wolves.
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"Have to find Mama," she thought. "Have to find her!"
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Nochturon was now a big circle in the sky and all the stars were
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visible. Anna, remembering what the men had said about her mother,
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started to walk towards the village, determined to find her. When she
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entered the village a dog started barking. Wolves answered the barking
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from afar. Anna was frightened. Quietly she searched the village for the
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place her mother could be. After several tries, Anna found her in the
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middle of the village, near the well. She was tied to a pole, her hands
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and head in something that looked liked wooden bars with just enough
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room to fit around her neck and wrists. Shocked from the discovery, Anna
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stared at her. This was her mama! She couldn't understand why her mother
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was tied up like bad people were.
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"Mama is nice and she loves me! Why is she tied up?" The thoughts
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raced through her head. "She's not a bad person!"
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"Mama?" she whispered, "Mama!" Anna reached out and hugged her
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mother's legs. The woman opened her eyes.
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"Anna! Child! What are you doing here?" she whispered, "You can't
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stay here. They'll kill you if they find you." Panic was in her voice.
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"Was looking for you." Anna stood up and looked at her mother. "Why
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are you tied up here?"
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"The villagers did that. They don't like us and if you stay here
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they'll tie you up, too." She swallowed hard. "Could you get me some
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water Anna, please?"
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Anna found a ladle and filled it with water. Carefully she held it
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to her mother's lips and watched her gulp it down.
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"More water, please --"
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Anna complied.
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"Wanna go home now, mama. Come on."
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"Anna, I'm tied up here. I can't get free myself."
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"I can do it, Mama, got myself free, too! See!" Anna held the end
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of the rope up which still tangled from her waist. "I still have the
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stone!"
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She pulled the stone out of her basket and sat down to cut the rope
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around her mother's legs. The rope was much thicker than the one her
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mother had tied her up with and her progress was slow. Anna was
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determined and worked silently while Nochturon made its way across the
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sky. Tired as she was, Anna had a hard time keeping her eyes open. Every
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now and then she nodded off, waking when her head banged against the
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pole.
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"Anna," her mother began a few bells later. "You need to leave now!
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Sunrise will be soon and then the people will get up. I don't want them
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to find you here."
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"Mama, I --" Anna began, but her mother interrupted her.
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"I love you very much Anna, but you can't stay here. It's not safe
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for you. Please, Anna --"
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"Nooooooooooo, I wanna stay with you!" Anna wailed and held on
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tight to her mother's legs.
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"Hush, you'll wake the people."
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Anna fell silent, but didn't let go of her mother.
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"Anna, love, listen very carefully now!"
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"Yes, Mama."
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"I need you to go to our place. Wait there for me, will you?"
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"Uh hmmm."
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"And if someone else comes, I need you to hide in the forest; don't
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let the villagers see you. Think you can do that?"
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"Yeah, but --"
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"No but, Anna, you need to go now! You're a big girl, and you can
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take care of yourself." Her voice sounded stern.
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"Mama, you'll come, right?"
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"I'll do my best to be there. Now go! I love you."
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Anna looked at her mother and understood. Tears in her eyes, she
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hugged her one last time and left. Hopeful that her mother would be with
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her again soon, she walked home.
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Anna reached the weather-beaten shack half a bell later and went
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inside. Nothing looked the way they had left it. The place was a mess.
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The furniture was broken, the linen ripped, and the few wooden dishes
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they had were scattered over the floor. She checked the small pantry.
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Rats! Anna shrieked. Whatever food they had, was now gone. Tears flooded
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her eyes. Then she remembered what her mother had said. She was a big
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girl now and would take care of herself. She picked up a few things that
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seemed useful and placed them in her basket. Tired, she settled on the
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small cot and closed her eyes.
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Shouting woke her bells later. Quickly she left the shack and hid
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in the bushes. Just as she felt safe to leave her hiding place, she
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heard voices. The villagers were approaching the shack. Anna pushed
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herself deeper into the bushes. She watched in horror as the men tore
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down the shack, stacked the pieces, and set them on fire. She listened
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to their gloating about how they had killed the evil one, and understood
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that they were talking about her mother.
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"I'm a big girl now!" Anna whispered to herself, repeating her
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mother's words in her mind. "I won't cry!" but the tears started flowing
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anyway. Helplessly, Anna stared at the blazing fire. She barely noticed
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the villagers walking away one by one, leaving only a handful behind. By
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the time the fire had burnt down, she was full of hatred towards the
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villagers. Anna watched the remaining men put out the fire. After the
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last villager had left the site, she crawled out from underneath the
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bush.
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"I'm a big girl now," Anna told herself, wiping the last tears from
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her cheek. "I can take care of myself!" She turned and disappeared into
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the woods.
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Anna followed the creek uphill in search of a place to sleep. The
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events of the past days had left her in emotional turmoil. One moment
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she was crying, missing her mother, the next she was angry and kicking
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her foot against a tree. Wandering aimlessly, she discovered a creek and
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decided to follow it. Alongside the creek she found various berries.
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Sleeping under bushes when tired and walking alongside the creek in
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search for a better place to sleep, Anna lost track of time. Towards the
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end of another day of wandering, she found what seemed to be an
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abandoned cabin. The setting sun provided just enough light to let her
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look around. It was dirty inside. Cobwebs covered the window and the
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fireplace was cold. In the gloomy light, she noticed a few shelves, a
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table, and a chair. A broom was halfway hidden underneath the table.
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"Tomorrow," she thought when she noticed the broom, dropped onto a
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bundle of old hay in the corner, and fell asleep.
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Anna woke the next day when the sun made its way into the cabin.
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She turned and let out a scream. A man was sitting on a stool in the
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middle of the room. His hair was unkempt, his beard reached down to his
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chest, and his clothes had holes in them. He had dark skin. Anna had
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never seen a man as dark as he was. She looked at her hands, then at his
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face, and back at her hands. Anna sat up and moved into the corner, her
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back to the wall, and stared at the man.
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"Whatcha doin' here?" inquired the man suddenly.
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Anna pulled her knees up and put her arms around them. She didn't
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speak.
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"Got a name?" His voice sounded loud to her after the silence of
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the past days. She continued to stare at him.
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"You understand what I say?"
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Anna nodded slowly.
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"Can you speak?"
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Anna nodded again.
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"Good!" He stood up, walked to the other side of the room, and
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poured water in a cup. Slowly he moved back to his stool and offered the
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cup to Anna.
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"Thirsty?"
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Anna nodded again, but didn't move.
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The man moved closer to the girl and handed her the cup. She drank
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quickly.
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"More!" Anna held out the cup.
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He took it, refilled it, and gave the cup back to her.
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Anna emptied it without stopping. A sigh escaped her.
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"Got manners?" he looked at her.
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Anna looked down and whispered "Thank you."
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He nodded. For a while, neither spoke. Finally he repeated his
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earlier question: "Got a name?" He looked straight at her.
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"Anna," she answered after a few moments of silence. Her voice was
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barely audible.
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"So, Anna. Whatcha doing here?"
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Anna didn't answer.
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"Where're your parents?"
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"Don't have any," she whispered. Tears formed in her eyes.
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"No need to start bawling," he told her briskly, "Haven't got any
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either."
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Anna swallowed her tears, and looked at him in surprise. "What's
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your name?" she asked shyly.
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He was silent for a moment, considering her question. "Name's
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Tobias Held, you can call me Tobias. Are you hungry?"
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Anna nodded again.
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"Well then, go outside and wash up."
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Tobias watched her make her way to the creek and wondered what had
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happened to her. Her loss of parents must have been recent. He estimated
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she must be five or six years old. She was dirty, looked like she spent
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the nights on the forest floor under bushes. He wondered how long she'd
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been out there on her own. The nearest village was more than a day's
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walk for him, behind the hills. If she'd come along the creek, then the
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nearest village was a good two-day walk. He didn't care for the folks in
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either village, not after what they'd done to him.
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Memories of his wife and son flooded back, and Tobias swallowed
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hard trying to suppress them. Their untimely deaths could have been
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prevented if the people had helped. Yet they stood by as his wife
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hemorrhaged after the birth of his son, and none of the women would help
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nourish the baby. He'd traveled to the next village for help, the
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screaming infant in his arms, and they refused him, too. Grief-stricken,
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Tobias had buried his son a week after his wife, gathered his few
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belongings, and left the village. Since then he'd stayed away from both
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villages and the villagers left him alone in the woods. They knew he was
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living up here, far away from anyone; he was certain of that.
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Once a year Tobias traveled to Dargon. It took him a month to do
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the round trip and trade fur and small furniture. He had just arrived
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back home this morning, when he found the girl sleeping on the hay.
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He pulled his bag open and reached for bread and dried meat. This
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would have to do for now. Tobias had no idea what to feed a small girl.
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He still wondered what he would do with her when she came back into his
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cabin. No one in either village would take her in; she'd have to live on
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the streets or in the woods. She'd never make it through the winter.
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Anna had walked to the creek and stuck her hands in. The water was
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cool and as she bent down to wash her face and hands, she heard the
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birds singing. She liked this place; it was peaceful. It took her a
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while to get the dirt off, but she wanted to do a good job. Satisfied
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with the result, she went behind the bushes to relieve herself. When she
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looked up, she noticed the fruit trees near the cabin and two goats
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grazing peacefully in a small fenced area. Slowly, she made her way back
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to the cabin.
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"Clean!" she said holding out her hands, just as she had done when
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her mother sent her to wash up.
|
|
"I see," was Tobias' answer and he handed her a slice of bread and
|
|
a strip of dried meat.
|
|
Anna's eyes opened wide in amazement. Dried meat was something her
|
|
mother had given her on special occasions only. Maybe this was a special
|
|
occasion.
|
|
"Thank you." Bread and meat in hand, Anna went and sat on the hay
|
|
and began to eat slowly. The meat tasted salty, but it was good. Both
|
|
ate in silence. Tobias finished first and turned to her.
|
|
"You may stay for a while if you want, but you have to help do the
|
|
work around here." He paused and waited for Anna to swallow.
|
|
"I can?" she couldn't believe her luck.
|
|
"Yeah, you can. What can you do?" he wanted to know.
|
|
Anna thought for a moment and took a look around the cabin. "I can
|
|
clean up," she finally started, "pick berries, find mushrooms, climb
|
|
trees, get water, wash my clothes, --"
|
|
"That'll do for now," interrupted Tobias. "When you're done eating
|
|
you can start cleaning up in here." Anna nodded and Tobias got up, went
|
|
outside, and walked into the forest to set new traps.
|
|
|
|
Anna placed half the bread and the remains of the dried meat Tobias
|
|
had given her into her little basket and set it on the table. She would
|
|
save it for later. He had said to start cleaning up and that's what she
|
|
would do. The cabin was small. On one side was a fireplace with a kettle
|
|
and some chopped wood stacked next to it. The table stood in the middle
|
|
of the room; a stool fit nicely under it. On the other side of the room
|
|
were a few shelves on the wall with cups and plates made of wood, and
|
|
then there was the pile of hay on which she had slept. The only window
|
|
was covered with some kind of translucent material. She carefully
|
|
touched it; it felt soft and slightly gave way under her fingers.
|
|
Cobwebs were all over the cabin, covering items long-untouched. Anna
|
|
remembered the broom underneath the table, pulled it out, and started to
|
|
clean up.
|
|
It took her the better part of the day to free the cabin from the
|
|
cobwebs and the dust, but she did it. She refilled the water bag with
|
|
water from the creek, washed the few cups and plates she found, and set
|
|
them back on the now clean shelves. For menes she admired her own work,
|
|
proud at what she had accomplished.
|
|
When she couldn't deny her hunger any longer, she set the bread and
|
|
meat on the table and filled the cup with water. Slowly she finished
|
|
what Tobias had given her. Anna remembered the last time she and her
|
|
mother had shared a meal. Her thoughts went back to the events of the
|
|
past days. "Mama," she whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Mama!
|
|
Mama!" Sobbing uncontrollably, Anna threw herself onto the pile of hay
|
|
and cried herself to sleep.
|
|
Late in the afternoon, Anna went back to the creek to wash her face
|
|
and hands. She was still tired from all the work and crying. Slowly, she
|
|
made her way back to the cabin. She was wondering where Tobias had gone
|
|
and hoped he would come back soon.
|
|
|
|
Tobias made his way up the hill, setting traps along the way. He
|
|
had worked for several bells; with some luck they would have fresh meat
|
|
tomorrow. It surprised him that he already included the girl in his
|
|
thinking. Suddenly, he remembered that he'd left her alone for most of
|
|
the day. Quickly, he made his way back to his cabin. He halfway expected
|
|
her to be playing in front of the house and was concerned when he didn't
|
|
see her. When he entered the cabin, he found her sleeping soundly on the
|
|
hay. He looked around the cabin. It was clean. All the cobwebs were
|
|
gone. Tobias smiled and nodded to himself. Looking at her, he noticed
|
|
for the first time the face full of freckles. He reached for a blanket
|
|
and placed it over her small body. She looked vulnerable. It was then
|
|
that he decided to let her stay.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
A Tale of Two Families
|
|
Part 1
|
|
by Jon Ballinger
|
|
<jon.ballinger@jabsystems.freeserve.co.uk>
|
|
First day of Melrin, 1016
|
|
|
|
The three men rode without speaking. They were nearing their
|
|
destination, having set off early the previous day. Jokal des Morest,
|
|
the leader of the three riders, adjusted his grip on the reins of his
|
|
horse and turned in the saddle to address the men behind him.
|
|
"There's an inn coming up," Jokal said. "We'll stop and eat before
|
|
pushing on to the Rerre estate."
|
|
"Yes, sir," replied Darrant. His black hair was slicked across his
|
|
forehead with sweat. Jokal could see from the escort's red face that the
|
|
warm sunlight did not agree with Darrant. Darrant gripped the bottom of
|
|
his overtunic and wiped his face.
|
|
"It'll be good to stop for a while, eh, Darrant?" joked the second
|
|
escort as he looked across at his friend. "Sit down drink our fill of
|
|
ale and gorge on venison while listening to a wanderin' minstrel or
|
|
two!"
|
|
"Shut up, Falris," retorted Darrant, a little too harshly. Falris
|
|
had been teasing him ever since the sun had begun to rise high above
|
|
them and the beads of sweat had started to form on his forehead.
|
|
Falris chuckled quietly, "Just think of that ale."
|
|
Jokal allowed himself to smile at the bickering that continued
|
|
behind him, but his thoughts rapidly returned to the reason why he was
|
|
riding to the Rerre estate at all. He was to deliver a scroll to Mathias
|
|
Rerre, the man his sister, Leila, had eloped with, and object of Jokal's
|
|
father's hatred. Mathias had been captivated by Jokal's sister, and she
|
|
had been resistant to the tall, dark-haired southerner's charms for a
|
|
short while only. Jokal and Leila's father, Arran, had tentatively
|
|
approved of the Bitom native, until he discovered that Mathias had been
|
|
nothing more than a penniless shepherd before he had made his fortune.
|
|
With that news, Arran's opinion of Mathias changed.
|
|
Arran had hoped that Leila, a striking brunette, would attract the
|
|
attention of someone of a higher standing: a son of a minor noble or
|
|
somesuch. Although Mathias had not herded anything for a few years,
|
|
Arran could not be persuaded to approve of their relationship. In fact,
|
|
he had expressly forbade Leila to see Mathias, which had only
|
|
strengthened her resolve. Mathias had run the wool business in which he
|
|
had been apprenticed. Jokal did not know how the apprentice had become
|
|
the master at such a young age; Mathias could not have more than five
|
|
years on top of Jokal's fifteen.
|
|
Jokal had quizzed Mathias as he felt a brother should do and found
|
|
nothing that gave him reason to worry. In fact Jokal felt that he could
|
|
grow to like Mathias. The elopement, however, put an end to any blooming
|
|
friendship. Mathias had taken Leila to live on the estate for which he
|
|
had exchanged his wool business. From then, almost three months earlier,
|
|
until the present day, the only time Jokal had heard of Mathias was when
|
|
Arran had spoken of him and the shame he had brought upon their family,
|
|
or within the letter that Jokal had received. It was a scroll, bound
|
|
with the colors of Mathias' liege lord, Baron Leavenfell. Jokal had
|
|
untied the blue, yellow and white ribbon and read the letter. Within it,
|
|
Leila had told Jokal of her marriage to Mathias and that she was with
|
|
child. Jokal had showed it to Arran, hoping that it would end the bad
|
|
feeling between their families.
|
|
"How wrong could I have been?" Jokal thought sadly.
|
|
Arran had become even more enraged and had been talking of using
|
|
force. Jokal had pleaded for a chance to mediate the crisis and was
|
|
given it.
|
|
"Take this scroll," Arran had said to him, nearly two days ago.
|
|
"Deliver it to Mathias. Judge his reaction and report back to me."
|
|
"The scroll!" Jokal thought with a start.
|
|
"Darrant," he asked as the three riders neared the Two Paths Inn.
|
|
"Hand me the scroll, please."
|
|
"Yes, sir," Darrant replied before he drew a scroll out from under
|
|
his overtunic. Darrant urged his horse on until he was alongside Jokal
|
|
before leaning to one side slightly and handing Jokal the scroll bound
|
|
in the colors of Arran des Morest, vassal to the Baron of Elmond. Jokal
|
|
tucked the scroll, tied with a green and white ribbon, into his
|
|
overtunic as the riders turned into the stables beside the inn.
|
|
"Feed the horses and keep them somewhere in the shade, but don't
|
|
unsaddle them," Jokal said to the waiting stable boy. Jokal handed the
|
|
stable boy two Bits before leading his escorts into the inn.
|
|
Jokal ordered three ales and a portion each of the carcass that was
|
|
hoisted above the fire that could be seen in the kitchen. The barmaid
|
|
took Jokal's money and returned with three mugs and three plates heaped
|
|
with steaming meat.
|
|
"Eat up. We leave as soon as possible; I want to get to Mathias'
|
|
place by sundown at the latest," Jokal said as Darrant and Falris began
|
|
to eat.
|
|
|
|
The setting sun illuminated the horizon when Jokal, Darrant and
|
|
Falris entered the borders of the Rerre estate. They rode in single file
|
|
down a cart track that threaded through the lush fields surrounding
|
|
them. The fields, given a slightly amber sheen by the oncoming dusk,
|
|
were almost empty save for a few workers. Jokal could see the main
|
|
building of the estate, Mathias' home, in the distance. The colors of
|
|
Mathias Rerre flapped in the evening breeze atop the house. The flag had
|
|
blue and yellow checks in the top half with plain white bisected by a
|
|
black line in the bottom half.
|
|
Jokal spied two riders approaching fast from the direction of the
|
|
house and motioned for his escorts to slow to a stop. They waited for
|
|
the two riders to catch up to them.
|
|
"Who are you and what is your business?" asked the closer and,
|
|
Jokal supposed, the more senior of the two guards.
|
|
"Jokal des Morest," Jokal replied. "I bring greeting from my
|
|
father, Arran des Morest, vassal of Lord Elmond."
|
|
The guard nodded curtly before turning his horse and leading Jokal
|
|
and his escorts toward the house.
|
|
|
|
Jokal rode along the dusty path that wove its way through fallow
|
|
fields. The first guard was directly abreast of Jokal, while Darrant,
|
|
Falris and the second guard were behind them. There were a few houses
|
|
and buildings dotting the fields. They were obviously houses for workers
|
|
of sufficient status. The people that Jokal had seen since arriving at
|
|
the estate had been men of the land: hard working and Jokal had no doubt
|
|
that they would fight hard and, most likely, unfairly should their homes
|
|
be threatened.
|
|
"It won't -- can't -- come to that," he thought as they rode to the
|
|
main house.
|
|
A barn to the right of the Rerre house was surrounded by a throng
|
|
of people, mostly peasants and workers. A few were leaving the barn and
|
|
heading for wherever they called home. As they milled, Jokal could see a
|
|
large table -- or perhaps row of smaller tables -- that was partly
|
|
covered with breads and meats and soups. A wave of sound came from the
|
|
general direction of the festival; singing, music and shouting
|
|
embellished the normal conversation. The festival took place every year
|
|
and was called Melrin. It celebrated the end of spring planting which
|
|
would hopefully lead to a prosperous harvest.
|
|
Bakson took the lead and directed the party toward the stables
|
|
where a stablehand offered to take their horses.
|
|
The stablehand held the reins of each horse, two in one hand and
|
|
three in the other as the visitors and the guards dismounted.
|
|
They walked to the main entrance of the house. Jokal felt a twinge
|
|
of envy as he regarded all of which Mathias was master. Bakson opened
|
|
the door and led the visitors through the house to the room in which
|
|
Mathias was waiting.
|
|
Jokal nodded his appreciation and walked over to the door indicated
|
|
by Bakson. He opened it and strode into the room. The room was sparsely
|
|
furnished, having only a large, open fireplace, a large table that was
|
|
half stocked with food and drink, and a single comfortable chair. Jokal
|
|
smiled as he spied his sister sitting in the chair.
|
|
"Leila!" he exclaimed. He crossed the floor to his sister and
|
|
hugged her.
|
|
"Jokal! Wait," she cried. "I'm still holding the needlework. Let me
|
|
put it down first. There. Come on brother, hug me again. It's good to
|
|
see you again after so long."
|
|
They broke off the hug and Leila continued, "Why have you come? Has
|
|
Father relented? Is he --"
|
|
Jokal shook his head and said, "No. That is what I am here for.
|
|
Where's Mathias?"
|
|
"At the feast. This is normally just a waiting room, which is why
|
|
you were shown here. I came here to rest for a while." Leila stood up
|
|
slowly as if her pregnancy were weighing her down. "Now let's go join
|
|
the feast."
|
|
"Are you sure?" Jokal asked. "You did say that you came to rest."
|
|
"I've rested enough and besides, I want to see Mat's face when he
|
|
realises you're here."
|
|
Leila turned to face Bakson, who had by now entered the room with
|
|
Junn and Jokal's escorts in tow. She said, "Take Jokal's friends to the
|
|
feast. I'll go with Jokal in a moment."
|
|
"Yes, my lady," Bakson said as he left the room. Junn, Darrant and
|
|
Falris followed him out.
|
|
Leila looked at Jokal for a brief moment before clasping his hands
|
|
in hers and smiling broadly, "I've missed you, brother. I've missed
|
|
Father as well."
|
|
"He's missed you, as have I. No matter how little he expresses it
|
|
or how it may seem from his hasty actions, never feel that he doesn't
|
|
care for you. Now enough about how much we've missed each other, let's
|
|
eat -- I'm hungry."
|
|
Leila looked as if she was about to speak but instead she led Jokal
|
|
by the arm to the hall in which the feast was taking place.
|
|
Flickering torches fixed atop hastily erected poles lent a little
|
|
light to the hall, adding to the meagre light that crept in from
|
|
outside. The dusk sky could be seen through holes in the walls and roof
|
|
that allowed the smoke of the fires to escape. There were three burning
|
|
stoves in the hall and each one had a boar roasting on top of it. Wooden
|
|
plates were stacked beside the stoves.
|
|
"I'll grab some food and then we'll find Mathias," Jokal said,
|
|
having to raise his voice to be heard above the clamor. Leila nodded, so
|
|
Jokal filled two plates and handed one to her.
|
|
"I've eaten," she said. "But thank you."
|
|
"No matter," Jokal replied before pouring the roughly-hewn slices
|
|
of meat from Leila's plate onto his own. He placed the wooden plate on a
|
|
nearby table and began to eat. "Let's find Mathias," he said through a
|
|
mouthful of food. After a brief time, Leila spied Mathias through the
|
|
crowd and pulled on Jokal's arm.
|
|
"He's over there talking to Urvan, one of our neighbors. I don't
|
|
like him much but as Mathias tells me he deserves respect."
|
|
As the siblings approached Mathias and Urvan, Jokal heard the
|
|
conversation more clearly.
|
|
"-- And then I swung the stick down on that foul animal. It
|
|
squealed!" Urvan said. He realised that Mathias was not even listening
|
|
to his tale and stopped mid-flow. "Mathias? Are you listening?"
|
|
"Yes, Urvan," replied Mathias Rerre. "I was merely restocking my
|
|
plate. Now continue with your tale of how you beat a wolf caught in a
|
|
trap. It must have been a fantastic feat of prowess!"
|
|
A round of derisive laughter occurred which Urvan, a tall, wide,
|
|
balding man, ignored. He waved his hand in the air which had the effect
|
|
of quieting the laughter.
|
|
"Mathias," Urvan asked, staring at his host, "have you ever heard a
|
|
wolf squeal? No, squeal is not the right word. Anyway, have you heard a
|
|
wolf plead for mercy?"
|
|
Mathias shook his head, "But then again, I've never clubbed a wolf
|
|
caught in a trap before. I must regretfully take my leave. Maybe some
|
|
other day I will hear of your astounding bravery!"
|
|
With that, Mathias turned to see Leila and Jokal walking over to
|
|
him.
|
|
"Mat," Leila called as she quickened her step. "Look who's here."
|
|
"Jokal," Mathias said with a smile. "When did you get here?"
|
|
"Just now," Jokal replied as he clasped Mathias' outstretched hand.
|
|
"I have to talk to you --"
|
|
"Oh shut up," Leila said. "Leave that until tomorrow! For now, eat
|
|
and drink with friends."
|
|
"I'll drink to that," Mathias said, raising the mug in his hands to
|
|
his lips.
|
|
Jokal nodded and lifted his mug to his own lips. "It'll wait until
|
|
tomorrow," he said, forcing a smile.
|
|
|
|
Jokal rose late in the morning, due to the abundance of food at the
|
|
Melrin feast, and found Mathias and Leila in the hall along with a few
|
|
remnants of the party. What was left of the food remained on the tables
|
|
and served as breakfast. Jokal ate hungrily for a while.
|
|
Mathias waited as Jokal sated his hunger before parting from Leila
|
|
and the small group he was talking with. Mathias walked over to Jokal,
|
|
who was finishing up his meal.
|
|
"I trust you slept well?" Mathias asked.
|
|
"Yes, I did," Jokal replied.
|
|
"Now tell me: what does your father have to say?" Mathias asked as
|
|
Jokal placed his plate on the closest table.
|
|
"He is still against your union with his daughter," Jokal answered
|
|
as he turned to face Mathias, "and his stance is very unlikely to
|
|
change. Before we go any further, I would like to make it clear that the
|
|
words may be harsh but they are my father's. I only want Leila to be
|
|
happy, nothing else."
|
|
"And I thank you for that," Mathias replied. "I, too, want her to
|
|
be happy. It is your father who doesn't want her to be happy."
|
|
"That's not true," argued Jokal, who still felt that whatever
|
|
Arran's faults, he was still his and Leila's father. "He *does* want her
|
|
to be happy."
|
|
"You may believe that but it's certainly not working out that way
|
|
is it?" Mathias asked. "Now what is it that Arran sent you here for? It
|
|
wasn't to tell me that he's against my marriage to Leila -- I know
|
|
that." Mathias gripped the younger man by the shoulders and said, "You'd
|
|
best tell me what it is your father has sent you here for."
|
|
Jokal, not knowing how to broach the subject, merely reached inside
|
|
his overtunic and brought out the scroll.
|
|
"There," he said as he gave it to Mathias. "Everything's in that
|
|
scroll."
|
|
Mathias nodded curtly before walking away from him slightly. He
|
|
untied the ribbon and allowed it to fall to the ground before opening
|
|
and reading the scroll.
|
|
After a short time in which all Jokal could hear was his own
|
|
nervous breathing and his rapid heartbeat, Mathias whirled round on the
|
|
spot.
|
|
"Does he *really* think I'm going to dissolve our marriage and just
|
|
let you take Leila back? The man is *mad*! I approached Arran as soon as
|
|
I knew I loved her. I asked for her hand; it was refused. Why? Because I
|
|
made my money through the wool trade. 'A sheep herder,' he said, 'No
|
|
daughter of mine will ever marry a sheep herder!'. I'll tell you this,
|
|
my wealth is worthy of *his* family. Eager to please him -- how damn
|
|
stupid could I have been -- I traded my business for the opportunity to
|
|
serve as a vassal of Leavenfell. To *serve* under another after being in
|
|
charge of my own destiny for so long. But still he continues!"
|
|
Jokal took Mathias' pause as an indication that he had finished and
|
|
started to speak, "He's still our father --"
|
|
"That he is ... and I pity you both. But Leila is my wife and is
|
|
carrying our child. We married as soon as we arrived here, on these very
|
|
grounds. The church is just behind the house. Ol-damn Arran if he wants
|
|
to be idiotic about it, but he'll not split us up just like that. You'll
|
|
be going straight back home tomorrow. You'll tell that raffenraker that
|
|
Mathias Rerre tells him he can go get squirmed."
|
|
Jokal watched as Mathias turned his back on him and walked across
|
|
the hall. As Leila rushed over to Jokal, he wondered just how he was
|
|
going to tell his father of Mathias' reaction.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|
|
Lost and Found
|
|
by Cheryl Spooner
|
|
<cheryl@towngate.force9.co.uk>
|
|
Seber 20, 1016
|
|
|
|
Aren reached up, squinting a little as the last of the day's bright
|
|
sunlight hit his eyes. He took a dry shirt from the line, grumbling to
|
|
himself as he folded it and placed it in the half-filled basket on the
|
|
ground. As far as he was concerned, this was girl's work. Whoever heard
|
|
of a boy doing laundry? Then he thought of what he would be doing if
|
|
Sian hadn't agreed to let him stay here. He would be cold, filthy and
|
|
hungry, and wondering if he would find a dry place to sleep for the
|
|
night. Then there was Kerith, his younger sister, who would probably be
|
|
dead from fever, or starvation by now. At least here, they both had
|
|
clean, warm clothing, and a bowl of broth to warm their bellies each
|
|
night before they went to bed. He had to swallow his pride and do this
|
|
for Kerith's sake.
|
|
"Well, well," a familiar voice made him jump as he reached for the
|
|
next shirt. "Isn't this nice? So, what's next Aren, my friend? Down on
|
|
your knees to scrub the floor? Or maybe, if you're very good, you'll get
|
|
to clean the privvy."
|
|
Aren groaned inwardly. This was all he needed.
|
|
"Jal!" he turned to greet his friend, forcing a smile. "This is a
|
|
surprise!"
|
|
He had last seen Jal on the night old Simon had told him to bring
|
|
Kerith to Sian's house. Then, Jal had been as filthy and ragged as he
|
|
and Kerith, but Aren could see that his friend's circumstances had also
|
|
changed for the better. Jal's hair was no longer matted and long, and
|
|
crawling with lice, but had been washed and cut, and now shone like raw
|
|
black silk in the dying sunlight. His face was clean, his complexion
|
|
healthy and the hollows under his eyes and cheekbones were gone. Perhaps
|
|
the biggest shock was the way Jal was dressed. Aren had been pleased
|
|
enough with the warm woollen clothing Sian had given him, but his friend
|
|
looked like a prince in comparison. Jal's tunic and breeches were of a
|
|
rich, soft fabric that reminded Aren of a dress his mother used to keep
|
|
for special occasions. Tears welled in his eyes as an image of his
|
|
mother, wearing that dress, danced into his mind and he blinked hard,
|
|
looking down at the ground so Jal wouldn't see.
|
|
As he fought the tears, moving a stone around with the toe of his
|
|
boot as though that were his real reason for looking at the ground, he
|
|
heard the shutter open behind him and turned to find Sian looking out,
|
|
her expression unusually stern.
|
|
"Aren!" she called. "Come inside, and bring those clothes. There is
|
|
much work to be done before supper."
|
|
"Go on then Aren," Jal grinned, laughing as Aren's face reddened.
|
|
"Do as the nice lady says. You don't want to have to do without supper
|
|
do you?"
|
|
"It's not like that!" Aren snapped, folding his arms and staying
|
|
put. "Sian never makes us do without."
|
|
"She makes you work for your supper though doesn't she? You have to
|
|
earn every bowl of broth and crust of bread you get. Not like me."
|
|
"So what do you have to do for yours?" Aren asked, naturally
|
|
suspicious; he had learned quickly on the streets that nothing came
|
|
without its price. He was also puzzled. When he had asked Jal to come
|
|
with him to Sian's house, his friend had been adamant that there was no
|
|
way he would give up his freedom on the streets for the sake of a place
|
|
to stay. So what had changed his mind?
|
|
"Nothing much really," Jal shrugged casually, although Aren saw a
|
|
gleam of self-satisfaction in his friend's eyes. "I just run a few
|
|
errands here and there. I get paid too, in coin, and I can come and go
|
|
as I please. Why don't you come back with me? They'll let you stay if I
|
|
tell them you're a friend of mine. Just think, no more of this skivvying
|
|
lark."
|
|
"What about Kerith?" Aren asked doubtfully. "Will they let her come
|
|
too?"
|
|
"It's no place for girls," Jal shook his head regretfully, "but you
|
|
could always leave her here."
|
|
It was Aren's turn to shake his head, his expression implacable.
|
|
"We ran away so that we didn't have to be split up," he said, a
|
|
shadow darkening his blue eyes momentarily as another painful memory
|
|
surfaced and was banished. "So I'm not going to leave her now that we
|
|
have a safe place to stay together."
|
|
"I know, but this is different," Jal argued. "Your two aunts were
|
|
going to take each of you to opposite ends of the duchy. I only want to
|
|
take you to another part of the city. If you come and stay with me you
|
|
can visit Kerith every day. You can even bring her presents with the
|
|
money you earn."
|
|
"No," Aren said firmly. "I won't leave her. I promised her that
|
|
we'd stay together and that's what we're going to do. Staying with Sian
|
|
isn't all that bad."
|
|
"Suit yourself," Jal shrugged as though he didn't care either way,
|
|
although Aren noted the glimmer of disappointment in his friend's dark
|
|
eyes. "If you change your mind I'll be around."
|
|
Aren nodded, although he had no intention of changing his mind. He
|
|
watched the other boy go, waving just before Jal moved out of sight,
|
|
then sighed and turned to take the last shirt from the line. It would be
|
|
nice to earn a little money, to put by for when he and Kerith were
|
|
older, but not if it meant leaving his younger sister.
|
|
He went inside, stopping to place the basket of clothes on the
|
|
floor, before moving to warm his hands by the fire. Despite the bright
|
|
sunlight, it had been cold outside. Sian's house was quite homely
|
|
really, he mused as he looked around. The kitchen, like the rest of the
|
|
house, was sparsely furnished. A well-scrubbed, solid old table and
|
|
benches took up most of one wall, and a big old fireplace occupied most
|
|
of the other. Over the fire hung a large dented pot, full of simmering
|
|
broth. The rug which covered much of the floor was patterned, and had
|
|
probably once been full of rich colour. Now, however, it was faded, and
|
|
was beginning to wear thin in places. The house was far from being
|
|
opulent, but in Aren's mind it was a paradise compared to the meagre
|
|
shelter offered by the underside of Dargon's market stalls. Earning his
|
|
keep wasn't all that bad either, he supposed. In fact, if he was honest
|
|
with himself, it was no worse than the chores he used to have to do for
|
|
his mother and father.
|
|
A noise made Aren turn to see that Sian had entered the room. He
|
|
noted her expression of annoyance with a small sigh of dismay.
|
|
"I'd like to speak with you, Aren," she said.
|
|
"I'm sorry I didn't come straight in when you called," he offered
|
|
hopefully, "but I haven't seen Jal in a long while."
|
|
"Jal is the reason I wish to speak with you," Sian said quietly.
|
|
"I'm sorry, Aren, but I don't want you to associate with that boy any
|
|
more."
|
|
"But he's my friend!" he cried, outrage colouring his cheeks
|
|
scarlet. "My best friend! I know he lives on the streets, but so did I
|
|
-- Kerith too -- and if it hadn't been for Jal we would have both
|
|
starved long before we came here."
|
|
Sian sighed heavily, stepping forward to put her hands on Aren's
|
|
shoulders. "Maybe so," she reasoned, her expression a little less stern,
|
|
"and his living on the streets has nothing to do with the fact that I
|
|
don't want him coming here. If that were his only fault, I would welcome
|
|
him gladly."
|
|
"Then what's wrong with him?" Aren shrugged off her hands, glaring
|
|
up at her as he moved back towards the table. Sian met his angry stare
|
|
with one of calm determination.
|
|
"What's wrong with him is the company he keeps," she said. "I have
|
|
seen him around Dargon with certain people. People you would not wish to
|
|
meet, believe me."
|
|
"What people?" Aren was confused. The only people he had ever seen
|
|
Jal with were other street children, and Sian had already said that she
|
|
didn't object to the fact that he lived on the streets.
|
|
"Bad people," Sian said grimly. "People whose notice I don't wish
|
|
to gain. People whose deeds would give you nightmares."
|
|
"You're wrong!" he argued hotly, fighting the urge to stamp his
|
|
foot." Jal looked after Kerith and me when we first took to the streets.
|
|
He wouldn't do anything worse than steal his next meal."
|
|
"Perhaps not intentionally," Sian agreed, "but as long as he spends
|
|
his time with Dargon's sourest dregs, he is not welcome here. And while
|
|
you are under my care, you are not to associate with him. Is that clear,
|
|
Aren?"
|
|
Aren glowered back at her, refusing to answer. Why should he stop
|
|
seeing his friend just because *she* said so? She wasn't his mother. She
|
|
wasn't even a relative. What made her think that she could order him
|
|
around like this just because she let him stay here? He ought to tell
|
|
her what she could do with her house and her rules. He ought to take
|
|
Kerith and go back to the streets. Jal was right: when you left the
|
|
streets you left your freedom too.
|
|
The only trouble was that living on the streets had almost killed
|
|
his sister. If he took her back there, it wouldn't be long before she
|
|
was in the same state again and it would be his fault. He had to stay,
|
|
for Kerith's sake, but he wouldn't stop seeing Jal, no matter what Sian
|
|
said.
|
|
"I said, is that clear Aren?" Sian repeated.
|
|
"Yes," he lied sullenly.
|
|
"Then you may wash your hands and cut the bread for supper."
|
|
|
|
Sian watched him slouch across the room to the washbowl, then shook
|
|
her head with a sad half-smile as she took an axe from the corner by the
|
|
door and went outside. She approached the woodpile and began to work,
|
|
swinging the axe with practised ease as she let her thoughts focus on
|
|
Aren. She felt badly about having to forbid him to see his friend, but
|
|
what else could she have done? She had seen Jal in the market a few days
|
|
earlier, and she had recognised his associates. They were men her father
|
|
had once pointed out as employees of a man called Liriss, of whom she
|
|
had heard rumoured all manner of unwholesome deeds. If she allowed Jal
|
|
to come to her house, then people would think that she, too, was
|
|
involved with Liriss. Some of her neighbours were disgruntled enough
|
|
with the fact that she had opened her doors to street children, and she
|
|
could imagine their reaction if they thought she was mixed up with the
|
|
less wholesome inhabitants of Dargon. Worse than that was the fear of
|
|
attracting the wrong kind of attention to her sanctuary. One of her
|
|
strongest motives behind taking in homeless children was to keep them
|
|
from people who might take advantage of their situation -- people like
|
|
Liriss.
|
|
"How much wood do you need?" A woman's voice startled her,
|
|
interrupting her swing so that the axe, instead of cleaving another log,
|
|
became embedded in the dirt at her feet. She looked up angrily, then
|
|
smiled weakly as she recognised her cousin Erin.
|
|
"What?" she asked, then looked down at the untidy pile of firewood,
|
|
grinning ruefully when she saw how much she had cut. "Oh, I see what you
|
|
mean. I'm afraid I got a little carried away. Oh well, it will save me a
|
|
job tomorrow."
|
|
"So what is taking up so much of your mind that you don't know how
|
|
much wood to cut?" Erin asked, raising an eyebrow.
|
|
"A slight problem with one of the children, nothing much." She
|
|
shrugged casually, unwilling to reveal her fears, knowing that she would
|
|
get little sympathy.
|
|
Erin shook her dark head with a grimace, letting out a heavy,
|
|
exaggerated sigh. "I don't know why you bother with those wretches," she
|
|
said with a look of contempt. "I told you at the start that they'd bring
|
|
you nothing but trouble. Look at you! You're young, and pretty -- well
|
|
you would be if you took a little more care of yourself. Look at your
|
|
clothes! My mother's servants are better dressed than you are, and as
|
|
for your hands, well, they're rougher than any housemaid's. You should
|
|
be looking for a husband instead of playing nursemaid to these
|
|
beggar-brats!"
|
|
"They are *not* brats!" Sian felt the rush of blood to her cheeks
|
|
at her cousin's insult, and she tightened her grip on the axe-handle in
|
|
her struggle to remain calm. "They're children. Children who have
|
|
nowhere else to turn."
|
|
"They're trouble," Erin continued, ignoring the flush of annoyance
|
|
spreading across Sian's cheeks. "They're eating away at the money your
|
|
father left you. Money that would make a handsome dowry."
|
|
Sian threw down the axe and pushed a lock of chestnut hair from
|
|
eyes that flashed anger. "I don't need a dowry!" she cried. "And I don't
|
|
need a husband. These children however, need a safe place to stay."
|
|
"So why do you have to be the one to give it to them?" Erin asked
|
|
doggedly.
|
|
"Because I know how they feel. You seem to forget that I was once
|
|
like them, until Mother and Father took me in and raised me as their
|
|
own. They gave me a home, and their love, and a life that wasn't full of
|
|
pain. If they were here today, they would be overjoyed to know that I
|
|
was able to pass on their gift of a home and love to others."
|
|
Erin sighed affectedly and placed a gloved hand on Sian's shoulder,
|
|
treating her cousin to a look of pained sufferance.
|
|
"But my dear," she wheedled, "you don't seem to realise how all
|
|
this is affecting your family. Mother is beside herself with grief at
|
|
the thought of her dear niece wasting herself -- and her money -- on
|
|
these wretches. Not to mention the acute embarrassment we all feel each
|
|
day when some person or other asks about your strange situation."
|
|
"Strange?" Sian had never heard it referred to as strange before:
|
|
foolhardy maybe, even dangerous, but never strange.
|
|
"Yes, strange," her cousin continued primly. "Do you not agree that
|
|
it is strange for a young woman, unwedded, to take it upon herself to
|
|
care for any waif that happens to turn up at her door? Perhaps a married
|
|
woman, like your mother, unable to have children of her own, would be
|
|
commended for taking one or two orphans into her care. But for a single
|
|
woman to ruin her prospects of a good marriage by becoming mother to a
|
|
whole horde of beggar-brats is beyond comprehension. When I think of all
|
|
the time and money you have wasted it makes me want to weep, mother
|
|
too."
|
|
"The only thing that makes you and your precious mother want to
|
|
weep is the fact that Father left all his money to me!" Sian raged,
|
|
unable to hold her temper any longer. "It consumes you both that he left
|
|
everything to some *beggar-brat* he took in off the streets!"
|
|
"Why Sian Allyn! Of all the ungrateful ..." Erin spluttered. "How
|
|
can you stand there and say such things after all my poor mother did for
|
|
you? After your father's death, she spent bells and bells at your side,
|
|
comforting you, and all you can do now is blacken her name!"
|
|
"You mean she sat around like a queen, having me rush around after
|
|
her like some skivvy, until she found out she wasn't getting anything
|
|
from Father's estate!" Sian ground out, no longer caring what her
|
|
haughty cousin thought of her. She bent to pick up an armful of
|
|
kindling, and before Erin could speak again she said, "Now if you don't
|
|
mind I have to give the children their supper -- good evening cousin."
|
|
Then she turned and marched into the house, slamming the door behind
|
|
her.
|
|
|
|
By morning, Aren had almost forgotten his resentment towards Sian,
|
|
and it seemed to him that she too had put her anger aside, because she
|
|
was all smiles and singing as she went about her work. She even sang as
|
|
she raked out the dead ashes from the hearth, a task she had confessed
|
|
to disliking above all others. As he approached her for his breakfast of
|
|
fresh warm bread and cheese, she ruffled his short sandy curls and
|
|
smiled, a smile that he shyly returned before taking his plate over to
|
|
the table.
|
|
There were three other children staying at Sian's house besides
|
|
himself and Kerith, and as each one came down to breakfast Sian gave
|
|
them all the same smiling greeting. Aren nodded in reply to their
|
|
good-mornings as he chewed his food, while each took their place at the
|
|
table. Aren, at fourteen years, was the oldest, and Kerith, at six, the
|
|
youngest, as well as the only girl. He watched her as she ate, nibbling
|
|
at the bread and cheese as though she were trying to make it last all
|
|
day, and he bit his lip as he remembered how she would do exactly that
|
|
with every stale crust he could find for her. She still wasn't fully
|
|
well: her colour was better and her smile had returned, but she was
|
|
still waif-thin and the dark shadows were not quite gone from beneath
|
|
her blue eyes.
|
|
"Aren?"
|
|
He reluctantly tore his gaze from his sister, but not before he had
|
|
given her a reassuring wink.
|
|
"I said, will you please pass the water jug?" Finn, a wiry,
|
|
freckle-faced boy repeated with forced patience.
|
|
"Sorry," Aren mumbled, passing him the jug. "I was elsewhere."
|
|
"Elsewhere?" the younger boy shook his head with a laugh, his
|
|
coppery hair falling forward over mischief-laden hazel eyes. "Off with
|
|
the fairies more like!"
|
|
Aren laughed and gave Finn a playful punch on the arm, which the
|
|
other boy returned, leading to a friendly tussle, which Sian ended by
|
|
pulling them apart and giving each a light-hearted tap on the ear.
|
|
"I can see that you two need to find something better to do with
|
|
your time," she said sternly, although her eyes were merry. "So you,
|
|
Finn, can collect and wash the breakfast plates, and you, Aren, can go
|
|
to the market and bring me back some flour, or there'll be no fresh
|
|
bread tomorrow."
|
|
At this Finn groaned, and Aren couldn't help smirking at his own
|
|
good fortune. Now it was someone else's turn for drudgery, while he was
|
|
afforded the trust of being sent to the market. It suddenly seemed that
|
|
things weren't as unfair as he had first thought: at least Sian made
|
|
sure everyone had their share of chores they liked, as well as those
|
|
they didn't. Folding laundry didn't seem all that bad when balanced
|
|
against a trip to the market.
|
|
He went upstairs to put on his boots and the heavy woollen cloak
|
|
Sian had given him, and when he returned he found her singing again as
|
|
she braided Kerith's long sandy hair.
|
|
"Here," she said, reaching into the pocket of her apron with one
|
|
hand, while she held onto the braid with the other. "There's a Round,
|
|
and take the bag hanging on the back of the door. Bring a bag of flour,
|
|
a turnip and some carrots. Someone left us a brace of rabbits on the
|
|
doorstep this morning, so they'll help make a nice stew."
|
|
Aren took the coin, unable to hide a smile of pride at being
|
|
trusted. He kissed Kerith, earning himself a smile so bright it stole
|
|
his breath, and warmed him in a way that no fire ever could. It had been
|
|
a long time since he had seen her so happy, and he grudgingly admitted
|
|
to himself that it was mainly thanks to Sian. Then he turned, grabbed
|
|
the bag and went out the door, his step light and quick.
|
|
The market felt different somehow. All the usual stalls were there,
|
|
and it was as busy as ever, with people from every part of the city
|
|
pushing past each other in their hurry to get what they needed, but it
|
|
was still different. Aren decided that it must be his change of
|
|
circumstances. In the days before he and Kerith had gone to Sian's
|
|
house, they would spend most of their time at the market. During the day
|
|
they would beg, hoping that some kind-hearted stranger would give them a
|
|
few Bits so that they might eat, or they would hang around the bread and
|
|
fruit stalls to scavenge bits of food considered unfit for sale. At
|
|
night, when all else failed, they would make their bed in the dirt
|
|
beneath the stalls. Now he had a Round in his pocket, and the underside
|
|
of the stalls were no longer his bed.
|
|
The people around him treated him differently too. When he and
|
|
Kerith lived on the streets, most of them would look at his ragged
|
|
clothes and dirty skin with disgust -- occasionally it would be pity,
|
|
but mostly disgust -- before continuing on their way. Now they mostly
|
|
ignored him, or gave him a quick nod and a smile as they passed, but no
|
|
one looked at him as though he was something unsavoury on the bottom of
|
|
their shoe. He had hated begging, and the first time he had held out his
|
|
hand he had felt shame, but the shame had soon faded to be replaced with
|
|
a kind of numb acceptance of the need to survive. Now he felt no shame.
|
|
He had done the only thing he could to keep himself and Kerith alive,
|
|
and he would do it again if the need arose.
|
|
He soon found a stall which sold good, fresh, vegetables and fruit.
|
|
It was a stall he had visited many times over the six months he and
|
|
Kerith had been on the streets. The stallholder, a stout, grizzled man
|
|
with kind brown eyes, had sometimes beckoned him over and given him
|
|
wrinkled or bruised apples. As Aren approached the stall, the man seemed
|
|
to recognise him, and frowned, as though puzzled by something. Then he
|
|
shrugged and smiled, shaking his head as if he was dismissing an idea.
|
|
"What can I get you, young fellow?" he asked cheerfully.
|
|
Aren picked up the largest turnip he could see and held it up in
|
|
both hands, turning it over as he checked to make sure it was good. Then
|
|
he held it out to the stallholder.
|
|
"And I'll have six of your nicest carrots," he said proudly,
|
|
holding out the roughly woven bag Sian had given him.
|
|
The man took the bag and placed the turnip inside, then began
|
|
counting out the carrots. Aren fumbled in his pocket for the Round. He
|
|
pulled it out and handed it to the stallholder in exchange for the
|
|
goods, unable to suppress a grin. For every spoiled apple he had taken
|
|
from this man he had given a little of his pride. He knew the man had
|
|
meant only kindness, but it had still made him feel worthless. Now he
|
|
could look the man in the eye as he gave his thanks and received his
|
|
change. Now he felt warm inside instead of wretched.
|
|
In less than a bell, he had bought everything Sian had asked for,
|
|
and had a few Bits left over. As he passed a pie-stall, the aroma of
|
|
meat and spices made his mouth water, and he was sorely tempted to buy a
|
|
small pie to eat on his way back to Sian's house, but he resisted. Sian
|
|
had trusted him with the money, and he would take all the change back
|
|
with him to repay that trust. Besides, he had eaten more for breakfast
|
|
than he would have had in several days on the streets. He wasn't really
|
|
hungry -- just tempted by the smell. He turned away from the stall and
|
|
began to walk in the direction of Sian's house, stopping every now and
|
|
then when something caught his eye.
|
|
He was watching a juggler, mesmerised by the ease and speed in
|
|
which the colourfully dressed man was throwing and catching five
|
|
brightly painted wooden batons, when he caught sight of a familiar
|
|
figure strolling past the gathered crowd. For a moment he only stared as
|
|
he wondered whether or not he should call out to Jal. Sian had forbidden
|
|
him to see his friend, and whether he liked it or not he sensed that she
|
|
would not have lied to him about Jal's associates. He didn't want to
|
|
anger Sian and jeopardise his and Kerith's new life. Then again, Jal
|
|
*was* his friend, and even if he was mixed up with a bad lot, it didn't
|
|
mean that he, too, was bad. Jal had helped him when no one else would,
|
|
shown him where to find food and helped him gain acceptance with the
|
|
other street children. He couldn't just cut him off now that he no
|
|
longer needed his help.
|
|
"Jal!" he called, standing on tiptoe and waving above the crowd to
|
|
catch the other boy's attention. "Jal! Over here!"
|
|
Jal saw him and grinned, raising a hand in greeting as he hurried
|
|
to where Aren was standing.
|
|
"What's this? Has the lady slaver let you out?" he teased, laughing
|
|
as Aren's cheeks reddened almost immediately.
|
|
"She's not that bad, I told you," Aren retorted. "In fact you'd
|
|
like her once you got to know her."
|
|
"Just as I'd get to like pig-slop once I'd eaten enough of it?" Jal
|
|
laughed again, although there was a harshness to the laughter, the
|
|
reason for which Aren knew only too well. They had both eaten more than
|
|
their fair share of pig-slop when things were at their worst, and Aren
|
|
knew that it was a taste to be endured rather than acquired.
|
|
"So what are you up to?" Jal asked, eyeing the packages Aren
|
|
carried.
|
|
"Just fetching a few things for Sian," Aren shrugged, pointedly
|
|
ignoring Jal's grimace.
|
|
"So, do you fancy a walk? Tag along with me while I run an errand?"
|
|
Aren looked doubtful. He had already spent a good while watching
|
|
the juggler and wandering around the stalls, so added to the time he had
|
|
spent shopping he guessed that he had been out for a couple of bells
|
|
already. Sian would already be wondering where he was, and he supposed
|
|
he should get back before she started to worry.
|
|
"I don't know," he began, "I should really be taking this lot
|
|
back."
|
|
"Oh come on!" Jal urged. "It'll only take a little while, and it
|
|
will give you a chance to see what your life would be like if you came
|
|
with me. Come on, we'll find somewhere to hide your packages so you
|
|
won't have to carry them around."
|
|
Aren chewed his lip. It wouldn't do any harm for just a little
|
|
while, he supposed, and he could always tell Sian he had lost track of
|
|
time while watching the entertainers. Jal looked so eager and earnest
|
|
that he found it hard to say no.
|
|
"All right," he grinned at last, "but just for a little while,
|
|
mind. Sian'll have my eyeballs for earrings if I'm gone all day."
|
|
"We'll be back before you know it, I promise," Jal agreed solemnly.
|
|
"Now come on, let's find somewhere to hide your things."
|
|
They hid Aren's purchases in Spirit's Haven's stables, behind a
|
|
stack of hay bales in a dark corner. Aren felt uneasy in the stables: he
|
|
and Kerith had slept there several times, sneaking in before the doors
|
|
were locked and hiding themselves in that same corner until morning.
|
|
Three sennights ago he would have been overjoyed to find himself there,
|
|
knowing that it would be one night they wouldn't have to worry about the
|
|
cold and rain. Now it only brought back memories of their suffering.
|
|
"Come on," he urged Jal, who was busy making sure the packages
|
|
could not be seen from the door. "I have to get back soon."
|
|
"All right!" Jal laughed. "Didn't realise you were so eager to see
|
|
what I do."
|
|
"I'm not," Aren replied, although he knew that wasn't entirely
|
|
true. He *was* curious to see what Jal did, if only to be able to tell
|
|
Sian that she was wrong about his friend. He was also curious to see how
|
|
Jal could afford such fine clothes from running errands.
|
|
They left the stable and Jal led him through the city towards the
|
|
docks. As they walked further and further away from the market and
|
|
Sian's house on Murson Street, Aren began to grow more and more uneasy.
|
|
There was no way he would be able to get back in time to stop Sian
|
|
worrying, yet if he turned back now his friend would scorn him. He had
|
|
no choice but to follow.
|
|
"Where are we going?" he asked as Jal turned along Tanner Street.
|
|
"Not much farther," his friend replied, "I just have a small
|
|
package to deliver to a man down here and then we can get back."
|
|
"And how much will you get paid for this?"
|
|
"Depends on how much the package is worth," Jal shrugged, "Anything
|
|
from a couple of Bits to a Round, maybe more if this fellow's generous
|
|
enough to give me a tip."
|
|
"And how many errands do you have to run in a day?"
|
|
"This is my second and last for today," Jal answered, frowning at
|
|
the question. "Why do you want to know so much?"
|
|
"Just curious."
|
|
"About what?"
|
|
"About the fact that you can afford such finery on a couple of
|
|
Rounds a day."
|
|
"Oh that," Jal grinned, pausing to rummage under his cloak. After a
|
|
moment he produced a heavy gold ladies bangle, which glittered in the
|
|
weak autumnal sun as he held it up before Aren's astonished eyes.
|
|
"Where did you get that?" Aren wasn't sure that he wanted to know.
|
|
"Let's just say that I acquired it," came the smug reply.
|
|
"You stole it?" Aren was aghast. "When? At the market? How could
|
|
you be so foolish? What if you'd got caught? What if ..."
|
|
"Hey! Slow down!" Jal laughed, holding up his arms as if to ward
|
|
off a blow. "First of all I didn't steal it at the market. I wouldn't
|
|
risk attracting such attention to myself."
|
|
"So where did you get it?" Aren was unconvinced.
|
|
"When we met I had just finished an errand to a jeweller," Jal
|
|
explained. "He had a box of knick-knacks on a shelf behind the counter,
|
|
probably things he was going to melt down and make new, and when he went
|
|
into the back to get me my tip I took advantage of the opportunity,
|
|
that's all. He probably didn't even know what was in the box."
|
|
"It's still stealing!" Aren refused to be swayed. In all his time
|
|
on the streets he had never resorted to stealing things of worth. Of
|
|
course, there had been times when he had taken food from the market when
|
|
a stall-holder's back was turned, and he had once taken a cloak from a
|
|
washing line for Kerith, but that was out of desperation. This was
|
|
different: Jal obviously didn't need to steal anything anymore.
|
|
"Stop looking at me as though I'd just crawled out of a cesspool!"
|
|
Jal snapped, thrusting the bangle back into his clothing. "I didn't set
|
|
out to steal, I never do, but if he was stupid enough to leave a box of
|
|
gold unattended then he deserved to lose a little. It's not as though I
|
|
took something that someone really needed. I'd never do that."
|
|
"So what are you going to do with it?" Aren saw that it would be
|
|
futile to argue the matter further. "You can't exactly spend a bangle."
|
|
"I know some people who will pay handsomely for such a trinket,"
|
|
Jal replied casually. "People who won't be too interested in where it
|
|
came from."
|
|
Aren remained silent. Jal was probably talking about the people
|
|
Sian had spoken of the previous night. It hurt him to know that he had
|
|
been so wrong about his friend, more than he had thought possible. Jal
|
|
had been so good to him, how could he have changed so much in a few
|
|
sennights?
|
|
"I think I'd better go," he said after several awkward moments.
|
|
"Suit yourself," Jal retorted sullenly. "It's your loss."
|
|
"Yes," Aren nodded sadly. "I think it probably is."
|
|
He turned and walked away, his steps as heavy as his heart. He
|
|
still couldn't believe that he had been so wrong about his best friend.
|
|
He and Kerith had spent the best part of six months with Jal, and in all
|
|
that time he had never seen the other boy do anything worse than steal
|
|
enough food to keep starvation at bay. Yet here he was, stealing for
|
|
gain -- for excitement even. It didn't make sense. Perhaps it was the
|
|
influence of his new friends; Aren didn't know. What he did know was
|
|
that he couldn't be Jal's friend anymore, and that hurt more than
|
|
anything.
|
|
By the time he got back to the market, after retrieving his goods
|
|
from Spirit's Haven -- which had taken much longer than he would have
|
|
wished, because May, the owner, had caught him and asked lots of
|
|
questions before she was satisfied that the goods were really his --
|
|
people were beginning to pack up their stalls, and his heart sank ever
|
|
further when he realised how long he had been gone. Sian was going to be
|
|
angry with him, and he didn't know if he could face that on top of
|
|
everything else. He had to, he knew that, but thoughts of the reception
|
|
he would get when he walked through the door would make the rest of his
|
|
walk home even more miserable. As it was, he didn't have to wait that
|
|
long to find out how Sian would react to his lateness, because as he
|
|
walked between the half-empty stalls she appeared before him, her
|
|
expression causing him to bite his lip and hang his head.
|
|
"Do you have any idea how worried I've been, Aren Greythorn?" she
|
|
asked angrily as she strode towards him. "What have you been doing all
|
|
this time?"
|
|
"I ... I went for a walk," he gulped.
|
|
"With that friend of yours I'll wager!" she snapped, snatching the
|
|
bag of flour from him with one hand and grasping the edge of his cloak
|
|
with the other. When he didn't deny her accusation she continued. "I
|
|
meant what I said Aren. I will not have my house brought into disrepute,
|
|
for you or anyone."
|
|
"I'm sorry. I ..." Aren began, but Sian was in no mood to listen.
|
|
"I don't care! Now you have two choices. You can either come with
|
|
me now and forget about your friend, or you can turn around and never
|
|
set foot through my door again. Which is it to be?"
|
|
Aren felt a stab of resentment. He had been about to tell her that
|
|
his decision had already been made, that he had already turned his back
|
|
on Jal, but she hadn't let him finish. Now she would just think he was
|
|
making it up to get himself out of trouble, so why should he even
|
|
attempt to explain? He was tempted to walk away. Kerith was happy enough
|
|
with Sian -- yes, she would miss him, but she would be well cared-for
|
|
and she would forget him through time -- but where would he go? To Jal?
|
|
No, he couldn't do that: his innate sense of honour would not allow him
|
|
to turn a blind eye to Jal's stealing. Nor could he work for people who
|
|
encouraged wrongdoing. He could always go back to the streets; he could
|
|
survive well enough without Kerith to worry about. The trouble was that
|
|
he didn't want to survive. He wanted to live.
|
|
He was about to reply when he became aware of a commotion in the
|
|
street beyond the next stall, and he turned, startled by the sudden
|
|
noise. A man was holding Jal by the hood of his cloak and shouting.
|
|
"You little brigand! I know it was you! Now give it back before I
|
|
turn you in to the guard!"
|
|
Aren hadn't seen the man before, but he guessed it to be the
|
|
jeweller, either that or Jal had stolen again. As he watched, Jal
|
|
slipped the clasp on his cloak and ran down the street. The man chased,
|
|
still shouting, his language becoming more and more vulgar. Aren saw a
|
|
cart and horses moving towards them from the opposite end of the street.
|
|
He called out a warning, but Jal didn't hear. He was looking back at the
|
|
jeweller as he ran, dodging this way and that to avoid the man's
|
|
attempts to grab him. He was still looking behind him when he collided
|
|
with one of the horses, and Aren closed his eyes and put his hands to
|
|
his ears to try to block out the agonised scream as his friend was
|
|
trampled. The scream ended abruptly, and ignoring Sian's cry, Aren
|
|
dropped the bag with the carrots and the turnip and ran as fast as he
|
|
could towards the cart and the gathering crowd. As he approached he
|
|
heard the jeweller cry out in triumph.
|
|
"I knew it! See! I knew the little bastard had it!"
|
|
Then another voice, one Aren didn't recognise. "Well the poor
|
|
little bugger won't be stealing nothing else. His neck's broke."
|
|
Aren stopped on the edge of the crowd. Part of him didn't believe
|
|
that his friend was dead and wanted to push through to find Jal sitting
|
|
there, rubbing his bruises and grinning his grin. Another part, which
|
|
had seen his mother lying so still and cold after the fever, didn't want
|
|
to see. He began to cry. Tears streamed down his face, and the tears
|
|
turned to loud, choking sobs that sent him to his knees in the dirt, his
|
|
arms wrapped around his body as if to try to comfort himself. Then he
|
|
felt other arms around him and he turned his head to find Sian kneeling
|
|
beside him, her own eyes moist.
|
|
"He ... was ... my ... best ... friend!" he sobbed. "He ... wasn't
|
|
bad. He ... just made ... a mistake!"
|
|
"I know," Sian soothed, stroking his hair. "I know."
|
|
"You hated him!" he accused angrily, struggling against her, but
|
|
she held him fast.
|
|
"No, I didn't hate him," she sighed. "I would have helped him if I
|
|
could, but he was already lost. The people he was with would not have
|
|
let him go. If he hadn't been caught today it would have been some other
|
|
time, either that or he would have crossed his masters and paid with his
|
|
life. I only forbade you from seeing him because I didn't want you to be
|
|
lost too. One child's death through Liriss and his fiends is one too
|
|
many."
|
|
Aren knew she was right. Hadn't he also turned his back on Jal
|
|
because he could see that his friend was beyond help?
|
|
"Come," Sian said softly, rising to her feet and pulling him with
|
|
her. "Kerith is waiting for you. She will be worried. Let's go home."
|
|
Home? Aren had not thought of Sian's house as home. In fact it had
|
|
been a long time since he had thought of anywhere as home. He thought of
|
|
the house on Murson Street, with its warmth and its sounds of laughter,
|
|
singing, and squabbling. He thought of Kerith waiting for him there, and
|
|
he felt a sudden rush of longing. Yes, it was time to go home.
|
|
|
|
========================================================================
|
|
|