Andrew Reid - Letters Home

[RollinsCat]

To: Elohanna Minuet
c/o Silver Buckle Inn
Dock District
Mariner's Hold
Sagewald
Alindor

Love

I just had a fantastic week, one I want to share.  I stored the items from the cooking party in Hempstead and went traveling to Vehl on some business; upon reaching the city and conducting my trade, I found that there was a ship hiring divers for a mission.

Now, I don't know if I ever told you this, but I dived as a child and young man.  Not like the pearl divers, of course, never that deep or that long.  But growing up on the tip top of the island, we used to throw colorful rocks into the ocean or pick objects to swim down and touch.  We'd see who could hold their breath the longest and dive the deepest.  I never won either contest, not even once, but I did learn to plug your nose and blow so that your ears would not pop, and to go slowly, especially up.  It was all a game to us then.  I have not done it since reaching adulthood.

So this offer interested me.  We; that is, the Rofireinite Samatha, Pimpernell Greentoe (more on him later), Azk'a, Aesthir, and the lovely lady Fleur, took passage on Old One-Eye's ship, the mad captain who runs out of Vehl.  He did not stay but we set sail with a captain Pimpernose in charge.  I spent days up in the sails, glorying at the wind blowing over me and the fresh salt air.  I miss sailing just to sail.

We were attacked by pirates once - all but one of us escaped unscathed, thankfully, and the scathed one pulled through.  His name is Pimpernell Greentoe and he's an entertainer and storyteller; he entertained Iri and I late in the evening of the cooking party, a fine fellow of jest.  We must have him play the Buckle sometime soon.  Oh, and remind me when I make it back that I have agreed to make him hand-pipes carved to mimic flute.

I digress!  We sent the pirates packing sans their captain, who oddly seemed to know Pimpernose, and most tragically we left their ship as well.  I'd have gladly captained it myself but our crew didn't want to board and take her.  I am still broken-hearted.  I will have my ship someday, love!  

Upon reaching the spot of the dive, we were given potions of water breathing, which did help immensely.  By this time Aesthir had taken to his bunk sick and Fleur opted to tend him, so it was only four of us to descend.  I kept asking how deep the wreck was and got no answer.  The captain was remarkably tight-lipped about our goals there beyond a chest containing an artifact; he would not divulge what the artifact did nor the name of the ship or anything else.  So, we dived, following the anchor line down to the sandy sea floor.  

I think it was down there, staring up at the faint light illuminating the ocean's surface - a cathedral ceiling of golden blue and green, flickering, gorgeous as foxfire on an old tree - that I had an epiphany regarding that song I've been working on.  You know translation from scroll to song is often tricky and how difficult it's been for me to put that spell to music.  But as I stood there, looking up, with the only sounds in my ears the gentle rush of water...it came to me.  How to phrase it in time, to take those wild syllables and put them properly into a song.  And bless the Muse it worked!  I can now sing the song of magical protection that slows, protects, and deflects, and it lasts an amazingly long time.  I am thrilled, love, thrilled.

I should finish my tale, eh?  We found the chest after a short walk and in front of it a guardian.  Azk'a and I distracted the guardian while Samantha kept watch for sharks, or at least that is what it looked like she was doing, and Pimpernell, the real hero of this story, sneaked around and tugged out the chest the golem-thing was guarding, swimming away with it.  The guardian-golem-thing stopped following us and fighting us when Pimpernell had taken the chest nearly to the surface, so we broke off antagonizing it.  Samantha went to the surface but Azk'a and I poked around the wreck a while.  We found nothing else of value and no name for the vessel but I might do a bit of research on that someday.  However, swimming around that old doomed ship was when I had my second epiphany!  The languid motions, the water resistance, the way I had to turn my hand...upon reaching dry land I took up that amazing bow you gave me that I've never been good with, and once again the quiet depths let my mind work through problems that the rush and bustle of the surface does not.  I can draw it and fire, and sometimes even hit something!

Upon retrieving the chest containing the object or objects we never got a look at, we were paid a rather princely sum of twenty-five hundred True each, and sent on our way.  I hope the good captain enjoys his trinket as much as I enjoyed that trip.  I blew the rust of my sailing abilities, had a wonderful dive, and left the city refreshed and ready to present the Foundation with the food and then on to the Resonance of Being for training.

You can expect me home after that my dear.  Tell Ty I will see him soon and keep the Buckle fires burning.

Love,


Tashe

[RollinsCat]

The clinic was quiet.  Reisaleah was upstairs being tended by Chakar and Buddy, and the Inn was closed for now.  Emwonk was resting, Kat as well, and Fleur and Aesthir had left to continue working with the authorities.

He examined the smattering of unusually large rat bites on his arm.  Way too large, really.  Not wearing armor could be a drawback sometimes.  He wondered if he was supposed to feel any different.  Twenty days to full moon - well, Minu would cure him before then if she had to carry him to North Point herself.  The mental picture made him laugh.  But he was avoiding the silver cups and flatware just in case.

Nothing to do and he was the only one in the clinic.  He didn't have to be here but it seemed right, since he was a customer and all.  Mighty boring just lying around though...he should put in some entertainment, books or something...oh, he'd swiped those books from the compound, he could read those...no, wait, there was something more important to do - something he'd promised, and he could use the wing of Minu's research desk to work on it.  

He rolled off the cot and found the old, orc-battered mandolin in his office, scooping up tools and some wood and instrument strings while he was there.  He returned to the clinic tables and moved books, beakers and mortar and pestle aside to make room, dragging Minu's chair over and setting the mandolin down.

The bronze cinch was intact so he carefully removed it and examined the body.  So very odd - it wasn't a mandolin, it was a drum with strings.  The strings were intact but old, he'd need to replace them.  The head was slashed where a weapon had kissed it and he peeled that off, setting it aside.  He had enough talent with leathers to make another one if this couldn't be repaired.  What skin was it?  Rubbing it between forefinger and thumb, he guessed lion or cougar.  He flipped it over.  It was old, the leather cracked like an old mirror across the back.  Replace.

Moving to the wood, he checked for more cracks.  Body was intact...the mahogany had been smoothed by very patient hands.  Even small knots and bumps had been sanded flush.  Leaning in he tested the acoustics of the rounded hollow and was pleased.  The woman who created it, created it with care and attention to the little details that mark music from noise.  He nodded to the empty space around him in approval.

The neck, intact.  Four strings in courses, replace.  Headstock, aha - a little crack there.  Wait, not little, it split around the third peg and down along the back.  Muse, he'd have to shape an entirely new head and neck.  It wasn't the work, it was that he'd been asked to keep it original.  But...if he used the old wood as a veneer, that would be keeping the old with the new.  That, then.

Wrapped up in his repairs, shaping and sanding the new neck, he never even saw Heloise slip a tall glass of grape juice and a plate of fish and rice to his left, and his singing echoed through the empty clinic and into the tavern long into the night.

[RollinsCat]

To:
Margaret Reid
2 Clay Ward
Huangjin
Tilmar

Well, mother.  He's gone.

I wasn't prepared.  Can you ever be?  Were you, when Aya left?  When I left?  Okay, I took a while to go, so maybe I'm not the best example.

I've been learning and practicing the Resonance for years, I've been spending time with a couple, the Sunstriders, learning even more.  From all this I've learned to sing myself happy when pain hits me but right now it's almost like Xeen powder, or dreamroot - it doesn't last and the downside can be hell.  Especially now.  Never more than now.  He wasn't impolite, he said goodbye, hugged us all, promised to write and visit.  All the things I said to you.  But by the Muse, it hurt.  I feel a loss, an empty spot, a pit really.  I'm sure he'll be fine, I keep telling myself that, and I think I believe it.  It's me I'm worried about.

I did follow some advice and let myself mourn, finally, alone.  Minu told me I should. Illia told me I should; Lady Sunstrider.  So I finally did.  I sang for us all the things I hadn't done, all the time we'd missed together, all the moments in time that never were and never now will be.  I cried, and cried, and sang, and cried.  It was awful, mother.  But I can see the wisdom...because after a while, the harder I drove myself into that, the harder I cried, and the more I listened to myself, the more the tension eased.  This isn't to say I'm better.  I picked up my quill just now to distract myself from brooding.  But I am no longer repeating the same tired lines in a sad frenzy; I thought he would stay until at least the auction, I thought he'd stay until the Rael thing was sorted...oh, yes, you read that name correctly.  I'll write on that in a moment.  

Ty is a man and he's ready.  So I sit, and write, and worry a little, and hope he'll do well, and that I taught him well.  That his mother taught him well.  I know Damon did so that's not an issue.  And I wonder how much more I can take; I lost Dom, I've lost Ty now.  Minu and I have been discussing adoption and I think that yes, I want a child to raise with her, if we can't bear one together.  And this time, I'll do my utter best to be around.

So, Rael.  Charlie, Daniel Poetr's son, tells me the Raelite Embassy in Mariner's Hold has taken an interest in my dealings and that of the Silver Buckle.  What this means I don't know yet except that it can't be good.  But I've a game plan and a small bit of clout and so I hope that I won't be so easily disposed.  We'll see and I'll keep you posted as soon as I know more.

Other than that?  Business as usual.  I've been working on a business relationship with Denock Wisefoot, of Wisefoot trading, and so far things are going well.  I have some plans for this Grand Dame the Silver Buckle, my first muse.  Just you wait.

On a final note, food should be coming soon to the cities to ease the resource pinch.  I can't take credit for most of it but I have been doing my part and I think my food auction - tomorrow night, by the Muse! - will provide a lot of relief.  So be looking for that and remind father that you are all welcome here should things take a turn for worse.

Shorter than usual, surprise.  Running a business gives one an appreciation of brevity.

Love to the family

Your son,

Tashe

[RollinsCat]

The carriage is stuck at the crest of the hill; the line into the city stretches in front and behind, an excited cacaphony of horses, oxen, and people.  He opens his inner ear to the Heartsong and his soul soars.  So much anticipation and delight, it drowns out all else as the density of the masses and their combined songs surround him.  It's beautiful.  He wants to write but every time he dares to take out quill and ink his driver sees an opportunity to gain a few inches and the carriage jerks forward.  He already has six sheets of staff paper with unreadable blots.  How Minu managed to scribe the invitee list to the wedding on the way here...well, chalk it up to the tenacity of a bride to be.

That list.  Stars and song, that list.  The conversation is fresh even as it's days old.

"Promise me Tashe, no work this trip?"

"No work, love."  He hadn't said promise, though. His mind was still at his desk, where he'd fallen asleep the previous night reviewing what he knew of Rael's involvement in Sagewald, the Raelian embassy, and who he knew that could get more information...  "So tell me what you'd like to do for the wedding?  Where would you like to have it?  At the Buckle?"

"No."

"No?"  Uh-oh.

"No, if it's okay with you I'd like to have it in...Hlint?"

"Why Hlint love?"

He'd untied the right carriage window and lit a cigar as she talked.  She spoke of her memories of his visits, entertaining the Hlinties and Aeridinites as well as her and Nokka with silly stories and songs and visits from friends.  How she half wanted to exchange vows from opposite sides of the gate...he was feeling mellow, being away from work and the stress and...Muse, he'd lit the wrong cigar.  That mellow wasn't entirely the result of his quickly arranged vacation.

"...and the entire guild of course and...who else should we invite?"  

"Hmm?  Oh...um...just close family and friends.  Small."  Pleasantly drifty as the swing and sway of the carriage left him feeling almost weightless.  She was rattling off names.  A lot of names.  "Slowly, love, I'm a little loopy right now."

"You're always loopy."

"No, I lit the wrong cigar...I'm really loopy."  She made an 'mm' sound but kept scribing and tossing out invitees.

"...and can I invite Story, love?  He'd be hurt if I didn't invite him."

Story?  What story...oh, Storold...  "Sure, I have no problem with the Protector being there."  How many people had he already agreed to?  A dozen?  Two?

"Oh!  And Brac'car, and we should invite Plenarius and..."  Brac'car? Plenarius?  Was she serious?  It was starting to sound like a kingdom event...  "...and Argali!"

"Of course, and I guess Angela and Alantha too."  

"So long as Alantha doesn't do fireworks!"  Minu giggled and he stifled a giggle of his own.

"Well, so long as she doesn't do them over the town..."

"Over the forest then?  Oh!  Moraken!  We need to invite him too!"

MORAKEN!?  "Love, what happened to our teensy tiny wedding?"

"When did we ever do anything small?"

Okay, she had him there.  He'd kept his head back, his eyes closed.  He'd  been a little uncomfortable being in this condition in front of her.  But, she was to be his wife, and it was part of the package so...he'd rolled his head over to look at her and caught a glance at the scroll of names and promptly choked.  It was long enough to be a respectable train on the bridal gown for a highbrow wedding.

Which, it looked like he was having...

"Love, do you want the truth?  I'd rather just elope.  Or have the king of Erilyn take us out in a side hall or something and just marry us...he's a king, he can do that..."  A regal wave of his hand.  "Poof, you're married!"

"I would too, love, but the guild would be hurt if they were not invited!"

"Alazira would have kittens if she didn't get to marry us."

"See?  And what would your mother say?"

"True.  But I'm not looking forward to organizing this.  I have the sewer mapping, Rael, a concert - three musicians I'm writing with - and the auction coming up and I need to visit Illia and tell her how I'm doing and...."

"I'll organize it love."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"And all I have to do is show up, say 'I do', and eat cake?"

"Promise."

Well, okay then.  He'd felt a weight lift from his shoulders and fallen asleep not long after.  Now, as the words drifted from memory, he scanned the banners snapping in the river breeze, all along the walls of the excited city - the last time he'd been here, it had been under siege from undead, and the aftermath of that still affected Minu - and let himself fall completely into the wild Heartsong's spell.  He was going to a royal ball with the woman he was meant to marry.  What could better?

[RollinsCat]

The pan pipes were basic, which was good.  He had a set he'd carved for Pimpernell but he had not seen the small bard in a while so those remained buried in his pack.  These, the gift of a woman whom he sincerely hoped would not crush his friend Edward's heart, had none of the carefully chosen oak heartwood or fancy turnings.  They were plain, eight bamboo tubes of descending length secure in a simple wooden band.  They were exactly what a novice like himself needed.

A novice.  An interesting place to be, for him.  So long he'd ignored wind instruments...he could teach theory but if a prospective student would ask for even one demonstration they'd laugh themselves blue.  He could blow enough to check the tuning, that was it.  This set felt a little small for his hands anyway.  Woodwinds?  It made him want a cigar just thinking about them.  The pipes dipped as his wrist relaxed, brain sending the chemical signal just ahead of the justification that he would think was the actual moment of decision, and then a stray breeze gusted by.   The pipes did not care the source and gave to the wind what they so beautifully gave their previous owner; a haunting echo of pentatonic moaning, swirling, rising, falling.  G, D, E, E held until the air stilled.

Jil was off browsing archery vendors, Minu was with Daniel, and he had missed the fencing combat for the day.  His wrist straightened.  He sat cross-legged on a rough trestle table outside a grog tent that was mysteriously closed and felt the waves of distant cheering mingling with friendly calls and the cries of vendors.  Early evening torchlight oozed across white tents fading to grey and he lifted the pipes with renewed interest.  A couple of experimental breaths...

"Mister, are you gonna play?"

A fast blink.  Looking down, the girl was perhaps five or six, sitting on a bench by the table.  He hadn't noticed her approach.  She wasn't dressed poorly, nor richly; a look around and he saw two parents hovering nearby, strained smiles and a child who looked to be just walking age held in the father's arms.

"I'm not very good."  He gave her a little grin; she smiled back.

"That's okay!  I'll still listen!"  He looked again to the parents, who reluctantly nodded.  Well...alright then.  He breathed to his diaphragm, pulling his lower lip under his upper just a little with a small parting, and blew across the open ends of the pipes.

His first attempt was...interesting.  The girl giggled as a few notes fell flat in a rush of breath, clapped when they rang true, and he fell into the role of entertainer as easily as he fell into bed.  He didn’t try to play anything in particular but experimented with the pipes, causing vibrato with his fingers and testing the amount of breath force needed for different amplification.  She drank it in.  It was a rush of warmth for him, watching her enjoyment with the utter sincerity of someone who has not yet formed years of expected reactions.  Muse, he loved kids.

"Come, sweetheart, let's let the man practice."

"Momma!  Just a minute more?  Please?  Pleeeease, please?"

He smiled at the girl's mother."It's not an imposition, Milady.  I am only passing the time."  Pipes to lips again and he tried a song.  It wasn't as hard as it had seemed a few minutes ago, but he didn't know the tricks for sharps and flats and his "song" sounded to him as monochromatic as a canvas of only red and orange.  The girl loved it and applauded.  He bowed from his seat.  "Thank you, my dear lady!"  

"Anne, it's time to go."  The father's voice held no promise that begging would buy the girl any more time.

"Yes Papa."  She slipped off the bench and waved, joining her parents as they continued their walk.  The father nodded and he nodded back.  Anne's wooden soled shoes tapped on the cobblestones until they blended with the festival noise rising through the coming darkness.

He'd best find Minu.  She had their itinerary and he was determined to be only fashionably late, not terminally so, to any specific events that required his lady's presence.  In his wake the sound of pan pipes drifted from wall to wall.

[RollinsCat]

She slices open the cream colored parchment with a single smooth zzzzzzzzzt, this aged woman with long grey hair, moving spectacles down her nose as she lifts the contents to read.  The man behind her leans over her shoulder - an easy task at his six-foot-four height - and lets out a pensive 'hm'.  She reaches back to pat his side absently.  She speaks in Old Tilmarian, he answers in common.

"Married.  Andrew."  The spectacles are removed and dropped to the table, held tight in her curled fingers.

"Mm.  We're sure this is not a joke?"

"It seems legitimate.  Here's a letter."  

He is trying to wash clay and ink from his fingers.  After sixty years, it's hard to remember which stains are new and which have become an indelible part of his skin.  "Read it, dear."

"Dear Mother.  First and foremost - this is not my idea of a joke.  I have proposed, and Minu has accepted, and yes, I'm getting married."

"Mm."  The scrubbing continues.  The man smiles, his tanned face crinkling.

"I hope you can come.  I have sent coin to your bank, for travel expenses, and reserved rooms for you at the Wild Surge in Hlint.  I hope Shuchi, Miyu, Opal and Vanessa will be able to come as well.  Aya should be there.

"We've been beyond busy.  I told you about the food auction?   We held two.  Between those and the Angels providing further incentive, we sent about fifteen hundred crates of food to the islands and to Boyer, also faring badly after the war.  You should be seeing the fruits of that labor - pun intended - "

"Now I know it's not a counterfeit."

"Hush. ' - soon.  I have taken some advice and not gotten myself involved in the wedding, rather it is my intention to show up, enjoy, and walk off entitled to make married man jokes for the rest of my life."

"I have a few he can use."

"Will, please.  'Things continue to go strangely at the Buckle, which I am proud to say is fully occupied and a little more.  I'm still working on my faction with the city and that...well, it goes.

"I wish to warn you of one more thing.  There seems to be a slow but steady increase in the number of undead.  Always a problem, but lately - much more so.  I've started to wonder, in conjunction with someone harassing one of my employees, and so I pass this warning on to you.  Keep those guards, I shall continue to cover their costs.

"I must cut this short - shocking! - but I pray you'll come to Hlint, for the wedding and the celebration.  And you'll get to see the shrine!  So make plans and let me know what they are, otherwise I'll worry.  Ty should be there as well if you needed another draw (yes, I'm smiling as I write that).

"Your loving, single-days-are-numbered son, Tashe."

"So we're going?"

"Pack your bags."

[RollinsCat]

The rain-damp road stretches ahead to the docks.  They are asking him if he's alright -- Gel is hovering, the elf reads his body language and doesn't like it one bit.  Allegro limps at his side.  The others divvy coin findings, talk about the strange and foreboding glade deep in the isle woods that left them all disquieted and eager to return to bustle and light.  He does not speak, although he feels the same harsh scraping across the chorus of his inner song.  That place of bridges, tree buildings, cauldrons and bones is a threat and he is frightened of it without knowing exactly why, yet it is a kinetic threat, poised but not in motion.  Whereas the one he encountered right before the journey - viable.  Real.  A symbol of everything he hates.  How much pleasure would he take in killing that man?  He should not even ask himself that.

Bile rises in his throat and a joke with it.  What's black and white and red all over?  It coaxes a snort from him as the boat captain checks tickets.  It will be a long sail back and he is not in the mood to man the ropes.  No shanties rise to his lips and no smile dimples his cheeks.  He retires immediately to his cabin, locks and wards the door, and lies back on the slim bunk, thumb twitching toward his ring finger.  His necklace he still occasionally slides back and forth across the platinum chain; he likes the sound.  His mustache, long gone from his upper lip since James has slipped into retirement, he still strokes the ghost of.  This new sensation is his wedding band.  It is wide and heavy, platinum, and the feeling of rotating it around his finger is reassuring.  An anchor.  The ring is squared off without adornment and the edges gently groove his thumb with its weight in memories.

The waves are high as Mist stirs the ocean's surface and the rocking of the ship makes him sleepy.  He does not want to dream of dark elves.  The metal he strokes with his thumb represents a memory that is as far from the Shadow that chases him as anything can be, and so he closes his eyes and plants his mental feet back, onto Hlint soil, in front of the gate that separated him from his lover for so long.  He remembers children's laughter carrying over that gate and Melody's sweet voice urging them to gather, stand here, no, no, no, you may not chase the kitty...he remembers the Trelanian flags snapping in the sharp breezes.  It was an abnormally chilly day even for fall.  The Trelanian guards were replaced by a single man fetchingly turned out in Ilsare's colors, a man who had stood as his guard before...

-------------

"I'm not late!"  He hoped he was not late.  What was a Dumas doing guarding the gate?  "Arfur!  Good to see you!  Dashing as always.  Here for the wedding?"

"I cannot let you go into the abyss alone, sir."

"Capital."  He paced, gathering his thoughts.  Arfur began a song with a merry grin.

"The bride gave the answer I do...he's loveable, handsome and true...six girls in the pew...all yelled I do's and the flower girl cried I do too!  And as for the present...a terrible grimace of doom was there on the face of the groom -- that's you -- 'I'm feeling quite miffed, for my wedding gift, she gave me a mop and a broom!' " A wicked smile from the halberdier.  "A little lighthearted moment."

"Ha!  You should see how Minu cleans a house.  She cheats -- spells, all of it.  She'll never dust so long as she has a Gust of Wind spell memorized."

He was prepared to pace with only his Ilsarien guard for company but Lana, resplendent in a long turquoise dress, strolled up, and for some reason the lovely woman sparked a surge of nerves.  He bowed and Miladied without thinking, tells her how gorgeous she was -- she really was.  He could already imagine Daniel's expression when his clerical friend caught sight of her.  She chatted while he paced, bantering with Arfur and him.

"I have a little present for you."  She handed over a box; he peeked in the box and the contents settled his fluttering attention span for a few seconds. Twenty little brown vials nestled in neat rows, giving off a woodsy scent of bark.

"Milady...thank you..."  

"You're very welcome."  A brilliant smile just as a chorus of local birds took up a song.  She was looking around. "I guess I'll go see if Daniel is around."

"He'll be out here somewhere likely.  The groom's party must stay outside the gates."

"Oh indeed for he may not enter by false, fictious, or foul means!"  Arfur snapped his halberd up and straightened his back, seeming to enjoy himself immensely.  "He must await and enter with honor, pride, and all that romantic toff."

Lana's grin was half flirtatious, half amused.  "Hmm, I hope the goblins don't notice you're here.  Good luck!"  She made to slip inside the gate, throwing a smile over her shoulder as she did. "And congratulations...if you make it."

His response was dryer than a fifteen year cabernet. "Thank you."  

She laughed and vanished into the town, both his eyes and Arfur's following until the gate clicked shut.  Arfur turned with that same merry twinkle in his eyes and winked. "I am duty bound as the self appointed guardian of the Gate to mention the horse sir."  

He ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a breath, shuffled through his jacket for a cigar.  The nips stayed in his pocket; he bit the end off one savagely and lit it from a lantern on the wall.  "Allegro is to be given the sweetest grass and finest water for getting me here early."  Arfur seemed amused as his nerves worked their way out via his tongue and voice. "I wonder if my parents are here yet.   Have you seen my sister?"

"I have not.  It was though not your horse to which I referred."

"What horse?"

"Beyond yonder copse lies a fast horse, a fine disguise of woodland green.  Three days rations and a map of the south!"  Arfur beamed and pointed; the man's earnest expression sliced through his jitters. He laughed so hard he snorted.

"I am far too deep to run for it, Arfur.  Besides - my bride-to-be is a wizard of astounding power.  How long could I hide?"  He was still laughing as he said it, circling the drain of a giggle fit, trying not to fall in.  Arfur only nodded solemnly.

"My duty done then...you are single for little longer it seems.  Sir, we have seen darker days.  Would you have me mark this...this bend in the river of life with an escort?"  

He was about to answer in the affirmative when a kobold -- a kobold? -- strolled up, dressed rather nattily.  Something about the walk, the size, the clothing - "Em!  My gods man.  What are you wearing?"  And again interrupted as his best man slipped from the gate, apparently exempt from the "no grooms party inside" rule, and looking as if he himself had fallen off a white-iced cake.  "...Daniel."  He whistled. "You look better than I do."

Emwonk beamed, completely oblivious to the intended recipient of the compliment. "Gratitudes."

Good, it was Emwonk. "Okay, I wasn't sure.  I was hoping it was you.  Or a very formal...kobold..."

"Problematic attire?"  The halfling seemed genuinely puzzled.  Daniel's expression was as close as the man got to rolling his eyes.  The birds continued their homage to a crisp fall day -- Muse, there was a lot of them singing...

"Er, well, I like the belt but the headgear is a little strange."  He leaned back to make sure his eyes were not tricking him. "And the tail." Daniel was sighing in his direction. "What?"  His best man pursed his lips and reached for the nearly spent cigar stub; he yanked his hand back.  "Lifeline!  No touch!" Whereupon Emwonk reached out a finger and zapped the stub to ashes.  Bloody elemental sorcerers...Daniel was saying something about his boots, what?

"...my boots?  I'm to be married barefoot?  This is Zira's doing isn't it?  I knew she'd get her revenge!" But no, Daniel only wished to polish them.  Well, they were coated with road dust from his mad ride here.  He tugged them off and stood, barefoot, until the boots were handed back with a blinding shine.  Wasn't it time yet?  It felt like it had been a year out here already.  He dusted his coat, his original red velvet coat.  He was woefully underdressed for his wedding but Minu had wanted this outfit, the one he'd worn when they first met.  Daniel fussed with the coat's collar; Emwonk flicked some of the cigar ash off.  Arfur chuckled.

"Now you can see the expression of your face on your boots...I am not sure that's good!"

"Have you your lines prepared, Andrew?"  Daniel finished fussing with one last brush at the velvet.

Emwonk sniffed. "Emwonk's attire equals supreme quality.  Emwonk cognated acceptable regarding ceremonial proceedings."  The halfling made a minute adjustment of the kobold mask and flicked his tail.  He wasn't sure, but it seemed that Daniel did roll his eyes that time.  Wait, lines, what?

"...lines?  No one gave me any!  I figured Zira would lead us.....tell us what to say..."

Daniel smiled, almost chuckled. "I suppose you'll simply have to improvise, then."  

"That I can do.  Muse, if there is anything I can do, it's that."

"Just remember -- it's her day, Andrew."  A sage nod from his friend and from Arfur.  He grinned wickedly.

"It will be my night though..."

They fell silent a moment as music drifted toward them, a children's chorus, the harmony so beautiful it made him ache.  Melody's touch.  They stood there, captivated by the sound, until a passing wagon broke the spell.  He toed at flowers scattered on the road -- roses -- and fished for another cigar, changing his mind at one imperious lift of Emwonk's electrically arcing finger.  Bloody elemental sorcerers with health nut issues!  He stuffed the cigar back just as there was a rapid fluttering of very large wings.  A friendly voice from behind him; he turned, and blinked at the latest guest.

"Andrew!  Looking brilliant!"  

"Thank you sir!"  The Bird Lord smiled -- he was pleased to see the man, and not just for his stories -- Minu would be over the moon to see her old friend.  Emwonk turned as well and --

"Bird-entity!"

Stars and song, no! "Em!  This is Plenarius, the Bird Lord, he's not a bad bird, he's good...!!"  

"Emwonk cognates.  Emwonk visualed prior infinitums."

There were not words for his relief.  He had flashes of town criers calling 'Did you hear about the Bird Lord being attacked at the wedding of...?'  "Ah, good."

For his part Plenarius was nonplussed and flashed a smile at Emwonk, Arfur, and Daniel. "Hi!"

Noise inside the town, near the gates -- now? It was time now, right?  His first wedding, his only wedding.  He'd already gotten the only gift he'd specifically asked for...Saida wasn't there. He wasn't sure how he knew but he knew.  The message had been received.  All that was left was to pledge his heart forever to one woman, this elven lady who was his other half, his soulmate, his...he was pacing again. Daniel and Arfur were half herding him; he laughed. "By Ilsare, I'm not going to try and escape."

"Are you ready then?"

"As I can be, Daniel."  All the way to this point it was almost smooth -- no major disasters that he knew of.  The guests arrived in good spirits, the weather was cold but clear, and they were sticking to the plan.  Bride inside the gates of Hlint, groom outside.

Only a few knew why.  Her presence in Hlint during the war had been kept quiet, even by those who knew-- no one wanted the Cult to come and finish the job before a cure could be found.  Not many knew the days he'd spent singing to her from this very spot; entertaining her, trying to keep her spirits up as she and her Sisters did the impossible, fighting to keep a town alive despite the vicious plague visited upon it.  Not many knew of the times he'd brought friends to make her laugh, the concert he'd thrown for the Sisters of Mercy and the townsfolk, they only seeing him through cracks in the wood and hearing his voice.  So long that he and his Minu stood mere feet apart and yet separated by a chasm neither could overcome until Xora had, finally, formulated the cure.  It had been here, here in this very spot, that he had fully realized what he might lose.  It had been here that the seeds for this moment were sown.

-------------

He is remembering the wedding but his mind drifts farther back, engaged in one of those long bittersweet talks with his love, joking that he will have to build a fence down the middle of the bed so they can chat properly -- the wedding memories fuse to those of the nonsense story night, hearing her laugh for the first time since she learned of her affliction...lost in Paleolithic layers of half-dreams he is dumped out of his bunk by a massive wave.  He is disoriented and the cabin is pitch black.  Calls from the crew to turn the ship into the waves echo down past the chaotic pounding of rain on the portal window.  He climbs back into his bunk and sings, listening with ears and heart -- his emotions are flotsam, fear and joy and aching and love and anger.  Singing pulls him together.  He turns his mind again to that wild, joyful day.

-------------

The wedding...the actual ceremony...was where the ship of smooth sailing hit the shoals, and it was a glorious wreck.  Daniel had not been informed of the plan, and led him inside early -- a grinning Arfur, halberd in hand, brought up the rear.  Tod arrived, a complete surprise, but the halfling was in high spirits and both gracious and pleasant.  Amazing what a proposal can do for a reputation.  As they entered the gate, his best man led with sword at present arms and he looked about to see what Minu had been planning for the last year.  

Melody had somehow gotten a piano outside into a field of flowers and -- hello!  Billy?  His Silver Buckle piano player was there!  He saw Kaldar and Illia and he waved like a grinning idiot.  Heloise and Paddy waved from near the bank, she glowing with the subtle light of her first pregnancy -- Michael and Edward were farther down by some benches -- his family was up on the Captain's lookout -- knowing they were there made that day feel as epic as anything he'd ever done.  Stand in front of Fisterion?  Pfff!  Fight to the last hour of a doomed fort?  Pshaw.  Wage guerrilla warfare on Drachs in their territory, battle back a tsunami, fight Ori, stand before kings?  Child's play.  THIS was something amazing.  This was a moment that would forever mark him, taking vows with his Aeridinite lady, stepping forward into mysteries of Ilsare he'd only ever guessed at.  Not to mention being totally monogamous.

If it ever happened.  Muse, it'd felt like days already!  Where was his bride?

A good portion of the town was out to celebrate the lady who had become one of their own.  There were guests, many he recognized and many he did not.  Plenarius went to check for late attendees, the wind was leaving a mound of flower petals along the building edges, and a light snow wafted down, unusual for fall.  Alazira, wearing the dress that he and Zari had together created for her -- she looked a vision in it, he had to admit -- marched up with a businesslike step.  One kiss on the cheek from his priestess and a comforting word -- 'You're almost there, Andrew' -- and they were shoo'd back out beyond the gates, a confused Daniel once again leading.  Chakar had arrived, and Gel'larian and Ferrit and Finn.  Arfur resumed gate guarding. Daniel shook off the confusion and muttered something as Emwonk edged over to Plenarius to pluck at the soft brown feathers lining the man's wings. The Bird Lord steadfastly ignored it.

Back to pacing.  He dusted snow from his hair and made a stab at telling the story of why this spot outside the gates was so important to them, pointing out to Daniel the crack in the gate he and Minu had peeked through to see each other.  When his best man turned to the conversations behind them, he moved up to the crack, hoping to catch a glimpse of his bride.  He could see only Gel's back, ushering the groom's party members outside.  Billy began a processional; he could just see Melody's arms waving in an approximation of a conductor.  She was the perfect choice for their musician.  It could have been no one else.

Daniel put a hand on his shoulder, half in support, half drawing him away from his vantage on the town's interior.  He stepped away and brushed some motes of dust from his cuffs.  Arfur grinned.  "That horse is still there Andrew."

The children's chorus started humming and combined with the piano in the falling snow, it was ethereal; at the same time gauzy and grounding, angelic and earthy.  He shivered.  Gel, having herded the rest of his side of the party out, came up silently behind him. "How are we doing Reid?"

He got a better look at Gel's attire then -- "Muse, everyone's better dressed than I!"  Gel grinned, straightening his lapels.  Well, go figure -- he was Zari's boyfriend, after all.

Daniel gave a firm smile at his distress. "He will make it if we have to carry him in Gentlemen."  

Arfur flashed a snow-dusted grin. "Won't be the first."  Daniel chuckled.  He smiled at both men and tried for some levity of his own -- the music was still going, she had to be walking, she'd be here any minute, oh Ilsare he was going to do this -- focus on Gel.

"We should drag Zari here and do a double."

Gel's expression was an exquisite balancing act.  "There aren't enough wizards on Mistone Andrew."

"I know a few inside that would help."  He grinned.  "And a couple priests too."  Daniel let out a soft hmph.  He could hear women's voices now and strained for the one he wanted to hear most of all.  He just made out Zira instead...'A little further dear...'  

Tod was humming along with the wedding march, sniffling, swiping at his face. "Weddins always make me all teary-eyed..."

Arfur chimed in.  "So long as the girls are teary-eyed too..."

He finished Arfur's rhyme.  "And so long as they say, I do!"  Tod was talking, Arfur was saying something about flower girls, Emwonk was talking, Gel'larian was talking, and all of it ceased to exist -- not a single word remembered -- as Zira's warm, commanding voice carried over the gates.  He froze.

"We are joyfully gathered today to witness and celebrate the joining of two hearts in marriage."  The murmurs and side conversations stopped -- he could only hear Zira and one very young child singing a song about elves and biscuits, oblivious to the sudden quiet. "Elohanna and Andrew have come together with the sincere desire that the love which brought them to this union may grow and spread into the lives of others.  May you both be granted the patience to listen, the capacity to understand, the compassion to give comfort, and the joy to laugh and to just be yourselves.  Let your marriage make a home where neither person is ever lonely.  Let it offer illumination and the excitement of shared discoveries.  Let it be large enough to endure difficult times; may life's challenges bring you closer together and may you always be able to turn to each other."  A throaty chuckle. "I'd tell you to face and join hands... but... well...get close to the gate?  He shuffled forward, Daniel standing aside and Arfur lifting the halberd that had blocked the way.

"Andrew, repeat after me..."  He could not resist -- he peeked again through their little wooden window, the crack that had let them view each other during their long separation.  Daniel stepped back to him and Gel's voice followed Zira's.

"Reid!"  He ignored them all, sticking a finger in the crack and waving at the folks on the other side.  He heard Minu giggle and Gel protested again. "Get back you cheater!"

For once Daniel didn't stop him.  His best man seemed either amused or resigned.  The latter, probably.  Arfur moved his halberd toward the offending finger. "Steady sir, hold your nerve...imagine you are in the field...a steadying voice."

Alright, alright.  Let's get this done. "Ready Zira."

His priestess in Ilsare spoke the words he would repeat to the woman standing just beyond the weathered wooden gates. "I Andrew, affirm my love to you Elohanna, as I invite you to share my life.  You are the most beautiful, smart and generous person I have ever known and I promise always to respect you.  With kindness, unselfishness and trust, I will work by your side to create a wonderful life together.  I take you Elohanna to be my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health for as long as we both shall live."  

Some part of his brain heard but he wasn't actively listening.  He pulled his finger back before Arfur could chop it off, then began to hum -- with a few lyrics a shimmer appeared on the other side of the wall, an illusionary heart hanging in the air on the bride's side with snowflakes passing through.  He heard a little gasp; Minu's, he knew.  He repeated his vows in a voice that reflected both his nervousness and his commitment. "I, Andrew, affirm my love to you, my Minuet, as I invite you to share my life - again."

Minu spoke, her voice low and aimed at someone between them.  "He's not very good at following directions."

By the Muse, Daniel was sneaking a peek through the gates!  He was almost gleeful at his friend's determination to go with the flow. "You are the most beautiful, smart, and generous person I have ever known and I promise to always respect you.  With kindness, and unselfish trust, I will work by your side to create a wonderful life together."  He took another look through the crack and Chakar's merry waving from over by the bank caught his eye.

"I take you Elohanna Minuet to be my...do I have to say lawful?"  He craned his head around to Daniel.  Zira was chuckling.

Minu snickered. "Better than awful."

"If you wish, Andrew."  Daniel grinned.  Okay, then.

 "...my legal but wild at heart wife, to have and to hold, and hold, and hold...from this day forward, for better or for worse..."

"More betters than worse please?" After everything they'd been through, he wished he could promise that.

"For richer and for poorer, in sickness..."  His grin faded, his inner song bridging from a wild waltz to a dirge as he stared at the wood inches from his face.  "...and in health, as long as we...er, I...shall live."  From the corner of his eye he saw Daniel bite his lip.

Zira's voice again. "Elly...your turn...repeat after me.  'I love you.  You are my best friend.  Today I give myself to you in marriage.  I promise to encourage and inspire you, to laugh with you, and to comfort you in times of sorrow and struggle.  I promise to love you in good times and in bad, when life seems easy and when it seems hard, when our love is simple and when it is an effort.  I promise to cherish you, and to always hold you in highest regard.  These things I give to you today, and all the days of our life.' "

He leaned toward the gate and whispered to where he thought Zira was standing. "Make her say 'obey'!"  Daniel elbowed him. He caught sight of Plenarius, on the bride's side, hiding a bottle of something under his wing; Chakar was standing next to the Bird Lord with a suspicious grin.  Zira shook her head and chuckled again.

Elohanna recited, her voice a little husky. "My Dearest Tashe, I love you more now and will forever love you, and give myself to you completely. I promise that I will always comfort you and inspire you, and bring you hope and laughter. I will never turn my back on you, I will never betray you."  He leaned his head on the gate as she spoke.  "No matter what hardships we face I will be to yours forever. In sickness and in health always. You are my inspiration.  Please say you will be mine Andrew William Reid?"

"All day every day, sugar."

Zira again. "Okay...almost there...now the rings...a short speech from me...and you're there...hold on a little longer."

Daniel whispered and almost dropped him into another nervous giggle fit.  "When do we storm the gate?"  Muse! He picks now to be funny!  He planned it, he must have -- wait -- what was Zira saying?

"Ring?" A look at Daniel.  "She's wearing it!"

"Umm...I need the gate open at least a bit if you are going to put rings on each other."  Zira cracked the gate.  Someone came up behind, a late guest -- he heard Gel giving instructions on what side to pick but it was moot.  Arfur and Zira would let no one through in the middle of the ceremony.

"Rings are a symbol that there is no beginning and no end to this relationship.  They are symbols of the growing relationship you have come to celebrate..."

A fast whisper. "Zira, she's wearing the ring I gave her." Without missing a beat, the Ilsarian priestess pulled the ring off Minu's finger and pressed it into his waiting palm sticking through the cracked gate doors.

Daniel let out a soft grumble. "Truly as chaotic as I thought it might be..."

"Andrew, as a sign of your faithfullness, place the ring on her finger and repeat after me.  'I take you Elohanna as my wife through all the experience life holds for us, in faith and love'."  

Minu stuck her hand through. He slid the ring carefully back onto her finger. "I take you Elohanna as my wife --" His voice stuck a little.  Wife! "-- through all the experiences life holds for us, in faith and love."

"Elly...same speech...your turn...'I take you Andrew as my husband through all the experience life holds for us, in faith and love'."

"Steady, Andrew."  Daniel whispered.  "Nearly finished."  He wasn't sure he wanted it to end. His fingers brushed the wood as he put his hand through for Minu.

"I take you Andrew as my husband through all the experience life holds for us, in faith and love always and forever." Her small hand brushed his large one -- she held it steady and he felt the barest hint of metal. He grinned and dodged his fingers a bit, making her work to catch the right one.  There was a flicker of pain as skin pinched, then a heavy, boxy weight on his ring finger.

Zira gave him a little push to stand clear, and flung the gates open with a huge smile.  "You may kiss your bride...get in here!"  Everyone was talking at once -- he was still getting used to that weight -- Minu was...

"Ohhh, my."  She was in white, cut low across the chest and nipped at the waist with red lace, encircled by a gold-trimmed skirt that managed to both be full and lie just right over her curves.  Her hair was full and loose, her makeup subtle, her eyes shining.  She was a goddess.

"Tashe!"

"Hello dollface."  The clapping and whooping formed an auditory frame for that moment in time.  He heard his mother yelling for him to KISS HER ALREADY in Old Tilmarian -- he and his family were probably the only people there who knew what she was saying.  His father was laughing at the whole spectacle, delight, not amusement.  He could not remember the last time he'd heard his father laugh like that.  He scooped Minu up and soaked in her radiance for a few breaths as the chants of KISS KISS grew.  Minu said something about cute britches and Zira said she wanted to know nothing about his britches and he didn't understand and he didn't care.  With one last breath he lifted his bride's face to his and kissed her, holding nothing back.

It was a long kiss.  He held it and held it, she held it and held it, and the cheering was the wind at their backs.

And they were married.

Married!

WIFE!

It was going to be a little while before that sunk in.  

The party was one to see.  He joked with everyone, mingled, took special time to say hello to Kaldar and Illia.  Illia seemed joyful to be traveling and very genuinely happy for him; Kaldar, a little out of his element, appeared to take his wife's personal happiness as consolation for having to trod around civilization.  It wasn't until later he realized he never introduced them to Minu.  She'd been over with Gel and Zira and Zari.  Zira, having been the one to give the bride away as well as conduct the ceremony, officially gave Minu to him afterward during the party.  Daniel just shook his head.

Drinks were broken out and circulated by Finn, although their official caterer was running a little late and Emwonk put on a small private fireworks show with the halfling's own elemental magic.  As he mingled, smiled and bowed, some of the Hlintites gave him a head start on wife jokes.  He barely had time to say hello to his family -- it as not until the next morning that he, his bride, and his parents, brother, sister-in-law and nieces were able to sit and chat.  The snow kept falling, not too hard and not too soft, a perfect flurry.  Gel'larian began to play and Melody was busy getting the children ready for the wedding song.  

The children.  They were, in a way, the best part for him -- the future of Hlint, those who survived the plague or were born after, singing for this union of love.  He caught Minu watching them with her shining eyes and knew what their presence meant to her after all the souls she'd held as they slipped beyond the mortal coil.  He wondered how Melody had known and decided he didn't care so long as his Minu was really and truly happy.

A stream of congratulations, and more; gifts, from Ferrit and Lana and Chakar and Katelyn and Daniel.  Tralek arrived fashionably late and Riven Ring-Cleaver was there, handing out roses, Daniel was passing out wine...Muse, it was almost too much.  Everyone wanted to celebrate.  Zig wandered throught the gates full of good cheer for them.  Melody herded the children back into a sort of line, Emwonk was hugging his leg in a genuine display of affection -- still wearing the kobold mask.  Daniel proposed a toast and lifted a bottle, having eschewed a glass altogether.

"To two dear friends."  Glasses were raised in response, and he felt a tug -- nay, a yank -- to get one himself.  He sang under his breath, admitting his weakness, and sighed.  Juice.  Now and forever, it would be juice.  As if reading his mind, Emwonk offered up a vial -- not a glass, a vial -- of pinkish liquid.  Bottoms up...Arfur was nearly bottoms up himself, raising his...forth? fifth? glass of wine and breaking into song.

"A few words...!  She wore something borrowed and blue, her shoes were all shiny and new, he said to her cold, you forgot about old!  She laughed and said: "Silly, that's you!"  He waved the glass around and smiled the smile of the joyful drunk.  "I salute you all!"

As if that were her cue, Melody straightened the line of boys and girls, they having drifted toward things far more interesting than watching the adults jabber.  There was a conversation going on about Riven's shop, but he focused on Melody.  He knew exactly what it was like to try and play a wedding; he would make sure she had an audience.  More people arrived, Amgine among them, as he signaled for Melody to start.  She looked at Billy and nodded three times, then turned to face front and brushed her guitar's strings.  Though the talking continued it hushed as those first vibrations blended with the piano.  The children, finally cued, began to hum quietly, and Melody's richly sweet voice rang through the falling snow.

"One ...look in your eyes and there I seeee...Just what you mean to meeee, here in my heart, I believe...Your love is all I'll ever need, holding you close through the niiiiight ... I need you ... yeaaaaah...

"I ... look in your eyes, and there I see...what happiness really means, the love that we share, makes life so sweet...together we'll always be...

"This pledge of love feels so right...and, ooooh, I ne-ed you..."  The song's intent shone through her eyes and voice.  The children joined her on certain words and hummed to compliment the instruments otherwise. "Here and now...I promise to love faithfully (faith-ful-ly)...You're all I ne-ed...Here and now...I vow to be one with thee (you and me), hey...Your love is allll...I need, say, yeaaaaah, yeah..."

The gnomish lady's voice strengthened and his skin tingled.  He could feel her opening up, filling the space between notes with her emotions, feeling what she sang -- her face reflected it all.  

"When I look in your eyes, there I'll see...All that a love should really be, and I need you more, and more each daaaaaay...Nothing can take your love away, more than I dare to dreeeeam...I need you...here and now...I promise to love faithfully (faithfully), you'rrrre allll I need..." His eyes closed.  Someone clasped his shoulder and he heard Minu singing along, squeezing his hand with a strength that would surprise most people. "Here and now ... I vow to be one with thee (you and me), yeah, your love is all I need..." The tempo doubled and the children harmonized, singing along.

"(Starting here) ooh, and I'm starting now, I believe (I believe in love), I believe...(starting here) I'm starting right here, (starting now) right now because I believe in your love, so I'm glad to take the vow!  Here and now, oooh...I promise to love faithfullyyy (faith-ful-ly)...you're all I ne-ed, here and now, oooh...I promise to love faithfullyyy (faith-ful-ly)...you're all I ne-ed, your...love...is all... I need..."  

He leaned to his right, eyes still closed, and bent to kiss Minu's head.  The children's voices held the last word and Melody laid her guitar across her lap as Billy lifted his fingers from the keys and smiled wide at them.  Melody had the contented look that musicians get when they are completely on, and turned her attention from the now-giggling children to he and his bride. "To the both of you...may you have many many many wonderful years ahead of you.  Yes yes yes." She nodded three times, and smiled.  There was a rather deafening applause from the gathered crowd, punctuated only by Arfur's increasingly distant voice as he escorted one of the of-age flower girls deeper into town -- "Ah but just think my dear, one day this day will be yours too..."

As the clapping died down Zig, having done due dwarven diligence on the circulating ales, filled the brief silence as Melody and the children took their bows.  "Time ta git busy!" Plenarius wandered off to find the gnomes he'd hired to do the official fireworks and the conversations began again.  Minu was still sniffling after Melody's beautiful song, and they watched as their musician gave out little gifts to her chorus.  He stepped back from himself to look around the party and a green and gold frock caught his eye.  He knew that dress.

"Captain!"  He patted Minu's arm, tugging her around. "Look who came!"  Argali was in her favorite party outfit and immediately the dwarven lady was the center of attention, but only for as long as a few greetings before some hearty cussing cut through the jovial mood.  A group of men led by Kurn Blackwater marched through town.  The scowls on the two he did not know, a halfling and a human male, felt toxic in the wedding-soaked air, but Kurn broke into a smile when the dwarven mercenary caught sight of him.

"You're here for the wedding?" He was so confused....did Minu invite Kurn?  Really?

"From the looks of it, lad gittin' hitched, or got hitched already."

"I'm hitched."  He grinned despite himself -- a number of people moved aside to center on Minu and Argali, instinctively giving Kurn's posse space.  He held up his now-encircled ring finger for the dwarf to see.

Kurn snorted.  "Ahm just passin' through.  Dun do weddin's nor funerals."

"The former, not the latter, but safe travels."  There was a press to one side as people moved back and forth; the human with Kurn pushed through to the bank, looking irritated.

Kurn fished in a pocket with a black-nailed hand and pulled out a number of short, fat cigars. "Ere lad, sneak these when she ain't lookin'."  The dwarf tossed them to him; he sniffed and then held them out with a slow smile.  The pungency of tobacco mixed with a cloying sweetness that was his preferred substitute for demon alcohol.  More a smell of the latter than the former, in fact.  Bless Kurn, they was a perfect gift right about now.  The dwarf assembled his crew and they strode toward 106 Hlint.  In their wake the joyful mood closed to once again encircle the party goers.

Kyle arrived, Zig left, Amgine was handing out small crystal animals he'd made to the children from the choir, now milling about with their parents.  The smell of wine still tickled his nostrils and as the children were led home to recover from the excitement, his resolve snapped and he lit up one of those sweet, sweet cigars.  Minu just shook her head at him, but then she probably thought it was a normal cigar.

Hells with it.  It was his wedding.  He inhaled, relaxing as greetings and laughter and occasionally earnest debate whirled around him.  He returned to Argali, keeping the cigar downwind, catching up with his favorite dwarven lady.  When Tralek moved through the crowd to see Argali in her finest, he laughed.  "Someone please draw a scetch of Argali!"

The cigar was stronger than he expected; he was downright giddy now, his already stellar mood improving with every puff.  "You want a picture?  I'll do you a picture!"  He turned to Argali.  "Milady, will you content to pose?"

It wasn't the first time the Captain had seen him loopy, and it was a wedding, so..."Ummm.... Zure."  He broke out his sketchbook and moved Argali's hand up onto her shoulder, hand touching her neck -- a coy pose for a direct lady that made her a touch uncomfortable and perhaps that was what didn't ring right but when he was done, it just...wasn't her.  She was a trooper but when he showed it to her, her strained politeness was a gust of wind through his mental fog.

"Um...I'll try again maybe another time." He tucked the picture away quickly.  Argali nodded, relieved -- or so he thought -- when the drawing was banished.  Minu, oblivious to his attempt at art in her own circle of well-wishers, was talking about the fireworks and turned to him in her patented combination of patience and rapier-sharp pointedness.

"We can see them best outside on the cliffs.  The walls will block them here." But the party was not yet ready to move.  Tralek tried to convince him to hand over the picture of Argali -- he put the man off, saying he had to work on it, it wasn't his best, and Muse was that right.  His fingers were too relaxed to hold a charcoal it seemed.  What in Ilsare's name was in this cigar, anyway?  He was floating just a little above himself, watching the proceedings.  He felt great.  Amgine had been waiting to get a word with him and finally found an opening just as Tralek said his goodbyes and stumbled away awash in liquid cheer.  Amgine tapped a scroll case to recapture his wandering attention that was now captive to each successive shiny thing or new person.  

"I, uh, brought a gift for you two.  I think you'll like it."  Minu headed for the gates, trying to lure the rest of the party to the hills beyond Hlint where the fireworks would be best seen, and from her gorgeous figure he caught sight of Vrebel arriving.  Amgine cleared his throat. "It's a limited edition poem by a halfling fella."

Melody and Billy started another song -- he wanted to listen, and to say hello to Vrebel, and to....what?  Oh, scroll!  He unrolled it and read, getting misty as he did.  It was one of Lyle's, whose personal songbook occupied a prominent place on his bookshelf in the Buckle.  He looked up at Amgine with reddened eyes. "Thank you...you know how to make a bard happy." He tucked the scroll carefully into his book, already humming the tune.  Minu, having given up on getting them outside the gates, came back as Vrebel intercepted and offered her a hug; seeing the crowd mostly in one place, she tried again.

"There are fireworks!  You should come see them!  Best seats are outside on the cliffs!"  

He'd better support his bride. "Fireworks!  Come on!  Melody!  Come my dear!"  Moving past the gates they had said their vows through an hour or two or...three, ago?  He tossed the cigar stub down and ground it out on the snow-dappled road.  Damon arrived, and before his rapier instructor and benefactor could head inside the town he was grabbed by a merry - and determined - Minu and dragged toward the vantage point.

Finally, finally, they were on the hill and a signal was given.  He slipped on his spectacles as the first incendiaries rose and detonated and for the next half hour was mesmerized.  Blooms, waterfalls, weeping willows, hearts, even a dragon exploded in a cacophony of color and sound.  Halfway through he began to orchestrate, creating illusionary sound to match the mood, and pulling it off despite his floaty detachment.  Nokka arrived, whooping with Minu as the finale of fireworks left them all a little deaf.  Music forgotten, he clapped until his palms were sore.  He then ushered everyone back to the town for food, hoping it was there, because he had fierce munchies and he wanted cake.  He was promised cake.  He'd shown up on time, he'd said I do, he wanted his cake!

The party was dwindling.  Tod took his leave, Damon as well -- between dusk, falling temperatures and the snow, most of the townsfolk had retired inside.  He put on a warm cloak and tugged one around Minu's shoulders as well.  Billy had bundled up but the young man gamely kept playing so long as there were guests to hear.  A true professional.  He'd give the man a raise when they got back to the Buckle.

A gasp from one of the few Hlintites still outside -- the man froze in place -- he saw Minu's face light up and heard a staid rumble from the gate. "Alright.... who ordered food?  

Minu squeeked. "Steel!"  The huge blue man was grappled in an Elohanna Hug, which he always thought of in sentence case -- he couldn't help it.  Steel shifted the arm closest to Minu so she could try and wrap her arms around him, his other holding the lead of a cart of color-coordinated boxes.  

"And where am I going to put all this stuff?"

After some confusion on where to eat and who got what, Steel started handing out the boxes -- red for the grooms party, white for the brides, each containing meat and bread and booze and pie and a flower, neatly packed.  No cake.  Pie would have to do -- it was Steel pie, and he knew the Arms steward was an excellent cook.  He pointed to Minu.

"Look!  Wife!"

Minu giggled.  Steel's response was patient as he handed over a box to Vrebel.  "Yes...Andrew.... how you managed to pull that off, I'm not sure, but well done."

The red boxes were going fast.  His bride grinned.  "I guess they are here all for you Tashe."

"Nokka's here for you..."

Amgine broke in.  "Well, I'll be on the bride's side if I have to choose.  I've known you longer Elly."

"Errm I'll pitch in for Elly's side too."  Lareth grinned - when had he gotten here?  Okay, now he needed someone on his side.

"I'll claim Aragli for my side!  And Melody!  Are we playing capture the flag?"

His bride was not to be outdone.  "I claim Nokka and Lareth then and Vrebel!"

"We gonna foight?"  Nokka pulled over his pack and started removing armor and weapons.

He threw a look at Vrebel.  The man put his hands up with a grin. "I'm claimed!"

Fine! "I'm taking Amgine.  Mine." He threw Minu a teasing smile.

"Can we have joint custody of Amgine?"

The Sandman smiled. "Too late, Andrew.  I've already declared allegiance to Trouble."

She flashed him a triumphant grin, and he sighed. "Fine, but you have to walk him to school."  By then the eating was in full swing and he finished his box somewhere between 'that was the best thing I've ever eaten and I never want to stop' and 'I was just eating?  What?'  Nokka ate everything in his box including the flower.  The dwarf said it was a little bitter.  

There were only the town lights now.  Vrebel dropped a chest full of gifts by the bank, gifts for he and Minu to hand out, and he immediately pulled the dark grey unicorn cloak out and handed it to a startled, overjoyed Melody.  Other gifts were handed out; it was a great present, letting them gift the guests.  Tyra arrived very late, just as Minu remembered the bouquet toss.  His son's mother for a few moments glared at his bride, then -- he was still shocked about this -- sighed and let the emotion go, rather than plaster her heart with more bitter armor.  He sang a little prayer to Ilsare right then.

The bouquet toss was amusing, beginning with a reluctant line up of mixed gender singles all of whom looked ready to flee the moment the flowers came anywhere near, and ending when Emwonk reflexively zapped the bouquet to charred petals before anyone could catch it or run from it.  The halfling sorcerer was genuinely sorry; Tyra snatched at the floating petals and Argali clapped.  Vrebel looked relieved.  From there another bouquet was procured and tossed, which Tyra sliced with throwing knives.  The third bouquet Minu aimed at Emwonk; it came toward him instead, and he tried to bat into the air but he only managed to fall over while Emwonk dodged and completely missed being hit by the symbol of the next one to be wed.

They were down to Argali, Steel, Emwonk, Vrebel, Nokka, and Tyra.  The snow was heavier and they stood in a pool of lantern light by the bank.  He was cold and their room in the Wild Surge was warm.  It was time.  He started a "honeymoon countdown", slowly drawing his wife away from the guests who drifted to rooms, portals, or tomes.

-------------

The memories blend in his sleep -- the wedding, the honeymoon, the many days since -- as the storm abates.  He is spared dreams of his Dragon Isle encounter, at least for now.  There will be other nights for dark shadows and veiled threats.  Tonight Ilsare's love protects him.  Tonight he is safe.

[RollinsCat]

To:
Margaret Reid
2 Clay Ward
Huangjin
Tilmar
 
Domo, mother.  I hope things are well there and the food is coming in - between the Silver Buckle and the Angels guild, an incredible amount has been gathered in the last year and most of it targeted at Boyer and the islands, with a considerable amount also going to the Foundation for redistribution in other famine-struck areas as needed.  I'm quite proud of that, actually, and of our guild.  The Angels are good people.
 
And beyond that...Muse, where to start.  I've been penning letters over and over and throwing them away after that first paragraph.
 
I could spend a lot of time detailing the trouble I've fallen into.  The associations that I think in retrospect are not suited for my current mindset, being a man of increasing peace, and married to an Aerdinite lady no less.  The world is not kind to the kind, mother.  I have more to say on that but it will wait until we're face to face.  It involves Mist and my own failings to stand as firmly as I should for what I believe in.
 
What I really want to write about, complain about if we're being honest here, are the people in this world who -
 
I can't finish that.  I was going to say, the people who have such clear dividing lines on what is good and what is evil that they cannot fathom exceptions.  But then, I'm one of those people, aren't I?  I can't look at a dark elf or a deep dwarf and extend them an ounce of trust.  I cannot imagine, now, that there is a single one I feel pity for; I can kill them, remorseless, with a secret, tingling pleasure that would shock Minu if I ever admitted it to her.  I trust you will keep my secret, my first muse?
 
So let me start again with that admission between us.  I want to believe, exceptions noted, that exceptions exist.  And one evening at the Buckle after a pleasing night of duets with some of my favorite bards; Lana, Melody, and Gel; a group showed up that defined that exception.
 
I admit I was a little shocked when I saw a bugbear, a saytr, and a kenku - those are the little bird-men, very tribal, very xenophobic - standing by the door clutching instrument cases.  Very odd, yet being a sucker for music, I of course welcomed them.  I already had a surprise duo show up, Crockett and Stubbs, and so my hall echoed with music that night.  I invited these three...shall I call them men?  They are not, yet all three were male, and I don't wish to simply say creatures.  Aha, I shall call them collectively the band.  The Wayward Wildside Trio.  I invited the band to come play.
 
Torgo was the bugbear and he plays percussion, Quark was the kenku and a most dexterous guitarist, and Dancing Hooves Harry the saytr who sings and plays pipes.  That night they seemed to go over fairly well although there was some shock.  I provided them a room, food, more ale than I ever expected they'd drink, and protection. I found out later they have a benefactor in Lord Arelius Witherspoon, a councilman, an appreciator of the arts, and one who is up for re-election soon.  This becomes pertinent later.  The rules regarding the group are simple; they must be escorted in and out of the city by guards.  Beyond that I think I missed the nuance of what they were to do while indoors, but as I stepped quickly up to assume responsibility of their safety and actions, it didn't seem an issue.  I really must sit down with the Mariner's Hold and Sagewald laws I have been able to get my hands on, much as the subject matter puts me to sleep.
 
I jammed with the band who enjoy a wilder styling that I usually am able to produce.  I have to say the experience did shake loose some new ideas and I've been doing quite a bit of acoustic writing lately thanks to them.  I set a date for a show and despite receiving some threats, nothing untoward happened until the concert night.  I was able to assume the stage as their violinist and was honored to do so and yet, despite their good behavior in the days leading up and their musical talent, a smoke bomb was thrown through the window of the inn, scattering audience and band.
 
Outside, a protest.  Of course.  Those on the side of "burn the inn down and the band with it" stood resolute in their ignorance, and what was worse, the "live and let live" crowd that opposed them didn't have a cogent argument so much as a philosophy they spouted repeatedly, bringing only more bile from the kill crowd.  It was the definition of fanaticism - each side unwilling to change their mind or the subject.  They yelled at each other, as if the volume of their protests would suddenly cause the other to slap their heads and proclaim "Of course, you're RIGHT!  How could I have been so blind?".  I would have been amused if a) the kill crowd was not as large as it was and b) if the subject had been something other than the band I'd hired, whom were currently hiding in my inn for fear of their lives.  I was also quite disturbed by a little girl who stood with the bloodthirsty and chanted for the deaths of the "monsters".  Shouldn't children be free from that mindset?  I'm being naive, but still.
 
I stepped in, as did a sizable number of Mariner's Hold guards keeping the peace.  I am not as reluctant as I was to admit that a little armed law is sometimes a good thing.  A number of us spoke on tolerance (myself being the biggest hypocrite of the bunch, as noted above) and I played to soothe fraying nerves.  It seemed to work for a little while and I thought that perhaps we'd pull through.  I even went so far as to extend amnesty to whomever threw the smoke bomb, and invited the naysayers in to watch the show.  However, Fate, being a - I'd use a specific word here, but let's settle for the less offensive if more wordy "nasty, nasty female canine in breeding heat" instead - chose that moment for a group of bugbears from Bear Isle to attack.
 
I don't think it was coincidence.  Some of the gate guards were doubtless part of the group trying to keep the peace in front of the Buckle which left us exposed on the inland gate.  Several townsfolk were killed in the battle but as a handful of hardened adventurers as well as some of my own Buckle folk on hand for the show, we were able to put down the attack in short order along with the guard.  And here I stood, mourning the death of innocents while the irony of housing a bugbear in my inn even as the attack commenced vibrated in my head.  Worse, my security Jetta informed me that the band had fled during the attack, without guard, which certainly put them inside a frame as neatly as if they'd yelled "we arranged it".
 
The final spur was that a child, the child who had earlier been so bloodthirsty, was missing and witnesses said she'd been kidnapped by the bugbears.  Torgo was seen near her prior to that and so immediately all blame was put on him and by extension me.  The blame to me I can live with but I honestly did not believe Torgo would do such a thing.  He was rather adamant, in his own uneducated but passionate way, that he'd left violence behind except as it translated to tambourines and drum heads.  However arguing on his behalf was pointless as the child had to be found and quickly so we immediately made for Bear Isle.  

I won't detail the slaughter, only that I'm not as immune as I used to be, and I wonder with each kill if maybe this one didn't want to be there, was only fulfilling what was expected.  If my own soft nature can ever be extended to my grey and black skinned demons.  We found the girl in the chieftain's chambers in a barrel of basting sauce and thank the Muse it was not over her head; she was alive.  Jetta found Torgo barely breathing and we tried to rescue him but he refused to return to the city.  He went so far as to blame himself and seemed again very convinced of that, although upon bringing the child back safe to her mother beyond the inland gates, she was quite upset that Torgo did not come as well.  She said she'd tried to protect him from the bugbears and he her, and as a result both were taken.  Her testimony probably did much to reduce the repercussions to the Buckle but it's far from over.  Several people are dead.  Torgo has run off, and the child suffered a head injury from a well-meaning caster trying to calm her with a spell not meant for calming.  With Minu's help we convinced the mother to let us care for her at the clinic.  I am staying away and letting Minu and Heloise handle things, although I have played for mother and child once.  I'm better off trying to figure out what to do about Edna.

Let me wrap this up with the final events of that long few days.  With child and mother reunited we were beset upon by a puckered buzzard in a black ankle length dress and sensible matching shoes.  Her name is Edna Blackheart and her pet lawyer - name forgotten for now, although this ignorant bliss won't last - began tossing off charges on us.  It seems Edna is a member of an organization, she may be the organization in fact although I'm not sure, dedicated to deciding what is and isn't appropriate for people to be doing in their establishments and homes and yards.  The very definition of a busybody, except that this one has a legal lapdog and an eye on Lord Arelius's council seat.  And she seems intent on using the Wayward Wildside Trio, the Silver Buckle, and the bugbear attack as her stepping stone.  Which means that I get to dabble in politics, again.  I am outclassed, this is not my kind of fight, except for a possible ace in the hole in the form of one Phinneas Mulrooney.  It seems my "biggest fan" is also a barrister, or was, or at least has read the laws of Mariner's Hold enough to go toe to toe with Edna's lawyer, which finally did get me to smile.  Although the two men ended in fisticuffs every bit as rough and vicious as a pair of three year old girls on the playground.  Really, watching them fight, there was not a dry pair of underwear in the square.

And so here I am.  After my discoveries of grandmother Rose, I felt perhaps I was coming in touch with myself, yet with this Mist business once again I'm facing parts of me that are inconvenient and ugly, not to mention prejudices that have at best insulted people whom would otherwise help and at worst caused the death of a mother and child.  Who am I that I can hold life as valuable for some and not others?  Why can I kill a dark elf so easily...enjoy it even, submerse myself in the act, the piercing stabs, the blood, the last gurgle and letting go of bowels...and be the same man who stands before a giant wishing to pound my form flat enough to hurl as  a discus and still try to make peace?

Enough.  This has turned into another one of my manifestos and for that I apologize.  I am only glad you and father enjoy good health and I have you to give these confessions to.  Ilsare always listens, but She doesn't always provide feedback in the way you do.  I look forward to your letter.

Your loving son,


Tashe

[RollinsCat]

The room is clean but cluttered.  A bookshelf filled with songs...his songs...books, letters, some awards, notes, sketches, paper.  So much paper.

He locks the door and he reads what he can.  Some he cannot; the writing is strange, squiggles and lines, not what he knows; so he sets those aside.  He'll ask his wife later.  The rest he devours.  His thoughts, his music, his art.  All there.

There are bills and letters on the desk and a note from Michael, the inn's manager and bartender.  This needs to be paid, that as well - we need more stools.  Floor repair from that big fellow the other night?  He'll have to ask what happened.

He signs promissary notes to be sent and wraps money to be banked.  There has been a little profit, that's good.  A short letter to his mother is in order.  It has been a while.  He dips his quill and writes in common.


Hello mother

A quick note to tell you all is well.  Business is doing well and I am in good health as is Minu.  The Buckle is also doing well.  We've recently aided a councilman, Arelius Witherspoon - that should bode well for the inn.  And it takes the barrister of his most heated rival out of the picture, also good.  The lawyer was masterminding the forcing of a captive kenku to commit crimes.  We were able to save the creature although we have not found the one we're looking for yet.  This will remove suspicion from Councilman Witherspoon in regards to the Wayward Wildside Trio.  We did also find the saytr safe in the Witherspoon mansion.  We need only find the kenku and the bugbear and perhaps I can host a reunion.

That is all for now.  Love to the family.


Andrew


He finds her address in a list in the locked cabinet.  Addresses the envelope.  Thinks for a moment about family - what it means to have one, responsibilities, obligations.  He has two sons.  He has a wife.  It is a lot to consider.  Better to be busy than caught up in his own worries.  There is brewing to be done, Michael notes on the list.  Lately Dwarf's Head Draft has been flying off the shelves.  He gathers up the letters and bank notes and heads out into the Buckle.  He'll send this off, and then he will brew. That is what he will do.

It is good to be home.

[RollinsCat]

It's in his wardrobe, the old dusty clothes.  Just as he remembered.  The peg leg.  The brown and gold coat.  The sweat-stained shirt, yellow under the arms.  The hat.

He likes the hat.  Tries it on, checks himself in the mirror.  The low wool crown and wide brim works with his Tilmarian face.  He should wear it more often.

The clothes fit.  They've been laundered but some of the stains won't come out, he can see that.  He's done a lot of laundry.

No, wait...he's...seen a lot of laundry done.  Yes. Of course.  He straps on the leg, getting used to the way his own folds under the loose pants.  Thumps around a bit to smooth his gait.  It's not easy and he falls over more than once.

The song is lying on the bed that he has not slept in yet.  He's been very busy.  He sleeps in his chair in his office, feet on the cushions.  He likes his office.  It suits him.

The song.  He wrote it months ago, before the elf Raina came running into his inn with wild stories of dark elves in the forest.  Before the torture.  Before the pain.  He hates this man, this Rael.  He remembers that.  Rael is a threat to freedom and creativity and Ilsare.  And smart, tricky.  He admires the subtle economic warfare even as his practices and memorizes the words.  

But it won't be him singing.  No.  And old man will do that for him.  He's nervous - it has been a long, long time.  He might not have things exactly right.  He doesn't remember everything.  He should, but he doesn't.  But it has been a long time.  Maybe Minu can help him - she knows.  She remembers things the way only a wizard can.  That makes him nervous too.

Still.  The song must be sung.  He is Andrew William Takeshi Reid, and it is what he does.

[RollinsCat]

The new guild hall is beautiful.  Understated elegance, not too ostentatious, not too rugged.  He likes it.  He likes sweeping the smooth, closely fitted wooden floor, he likes red and gold wallpaper, the paintings.

He designed this.  He does like it, even if it's hard to remember where he got everything.  Especially that painting of the golden-brown haired elf woman.  He can't remember and he's worried she'll ask.  It's her of course.  Painted on Voltrex, staring at the moon...where did he get that?  He slaps the broom in frustration.  He can't remember.

They've all left, Minu to get some sleep, the little brownie woman - so perfect, so tiny! - to get some coin or barter, and Emwonk...

...Emwonk.  He remembers his friend of course.  But his head still hurts from trying to figure out what the small man was saying.  Not a single word out of the halfling's mouth made sense, it was as if Emwonk was trying to choose the longest, most technical word that was even loosely connected with what he wanted to express.  What the hells?  Then they thought HE was weird for not understanding it?  And that he had before?

Well, he'd been through a lot.  A very lot.  A blow to the head, perhaps...must be it...time, he needed time.  He'd remember more over time.

The dust from the remodeling and the dirt tracked in by the first customers in was neatly piled, scooped, tossed outside.  There.  Done.  He is pleased, he knows he did well.  He walks the room, touching the armor model, the benches, the screen that he chose to decorate.  The paintings.  He can't remember where he got a single one.

The golden hue of the desert scene catches his eye and he remembers the flash of sun-warmed grains and fields.  Yearning...heading outside, he hunts around in the old shed leaning against the newly painted building.  A shovel, yes - a trowel - part of a hoe with the top half broken off - ah, tarp, good.  It's old and has holes, but it's enough to start.  He can get better later, in town.

It's nearly dark but he lets the yearning take him.  There is a small, weed-choked plot out back, perhaps ten feet by ten feet.  Kneeling in his mithril reinforced trousers, he begins to yank, singing as he does.  It feels good.  He's done this before, many times...when?  

Outside the Buckle, yes.  Of course.  Weeds are always poking up through the cracks in the flagstones and around the building.

Dirt between his fingers, he likes it.  He wipes his hands on the red velvet of his coat and continues rooting out the enemies of future vegetables.  Sensations...the smell of loam and the cool wetness of an earthworm, the stringy, long roots of a dandelion...he weeds until it's too dark to see and then a little longer on a light spell.  His garden.  Yes.  This is right...this is what he...does...

[RollinsCat]

He wakes next to the banked fire in the meeting space behind the store.  Light filters through the windows.  It still confuses him, light.  It gets light during the day and dark at night - he'd forgotten.  He's adjusting.  He's been quiet about how strange it feels.

Many things feel strange.  Wind.  Rain.  He's stood in the rain a few times, marveling at such a simple pleasure.

It doesn't rain in the Deep.

His eyes have adjusted...re-adjusted...now, however, and he's starting to like the light.  His mood has lifted as sun has kissed his skin.  It makes him happy in ways he's forgotten.  Sun, wind, and rain.  Good for crops.  Necessary in fact.  His garden likes it.  It's turned, weed and stone free, hoed and seeded now.  Soon he'll have peppers and potatoes and carrots.  There is more land behind the store and they are in a prime area for growing, it is the Port Hempstead Fields, good soil, level ground.  He'll ask about putting in some wheat and rye, or maybe oats - oats are easy to grow.  No chance of Holy Fire from oats.

He can hear Minu in the storefront, at least he thinks it's her.  Light steps and the rustling of paper.  It could be Raven.  She also steps lightly, more lightly in fact than anyone else he's known and he includes the dark elves in that assessment.  She's the most graceful woman he's ever met.  He wants to please her.  That's why his muscles ache, why he spent so much time dragging furniture around to exact specifications without complaining - he does not complain.  Complaining brings pain, he learned that early.

But Raven doesn't hurt him.  She's kind, if firm.  She knows what she wants but she smiles, pats him, speaks with a soft voice.  Lets him take breaks and eat and drink when he wants.  She would be a wonderful mistress...

He should get up and work.  He knows this and he panics a little, reminds himself that he's Andrew Reid, he's free, and they can't touch him here.  He's free.  He can lie here if he wants to, and he wants to.  He feels like a rothe ran over him.  It was those display cases, that's what did him in, they were cut strangely and he could not line them up without shims and some minor carpentry on the sides.  He would be happy to never move them again.

The last week has left him emotionally drained as well.  He's seen so many people and there are so many holes in his memory.  Jetta, on his security team - she was actually the easiest to talk to.  So beautiful.  He is attracted and that is dangerous, he's married, but Jetta reminds him of someone...someone...he can't remember.  She talked him into a raise.   He can't believe he's never paid her.  She's not a slave, after all.  He'll pay her for her work.  He wants to see her again.  So pretty...

Then Buddy, and that gives him a lift.  Things to do, possible work, important work.  Work that will take him far away where they can't find him.  He doesn't want to go back.  He told Buddy about his experience, the dwarf understood, and he smiles.  He has good friends.

The things he doesn't remember almost led him to disaster, though, when the lovely woman with the slanted eyes and jet black hair came in.  He knew he should recognize her and he kept staring, and worrying that she'd think that there was something wrong with him, but he knew he should know her, he knew it, he could not look away.  Finally a name, and he threw out some conversation to get a sense if he was right - he was right.  Ayla.  His sister.

He remembers their conversation with a warm smile.  She's concerned for him, so many people care for him, it's overwhelming but it feels good.  They went for drinks, ale and conversation, he played her a song of his she liked.  He remembered the words and the tune.  They ended up sitting  and drinking Silver Buckle gin while he told her about his capture and asked her to help him remember.  She is kind, she agreed, and filled in a few holes about Emwonk, and asked him to tell Minu to contact her.  Asked him to contact Sister Bernice, who helped Emwonk, and could help him.

This is what he needs.  Friends and family and time.  Last night with Minu, by the fire, almost broke him.  It's the worst with her.  It's as if he doesn't remember what he felt, although he does love her - she is easily the kindest person he's ever met.  He feels safe with her, he wants to tell her more things but he is afraid.  He's no longer sure what is and isn't real.  They did terrible things to him.  It wasn't just a knock to the head that caused this.  They held each other, she cried, she's afraid she's lost him...he asks for time, more time, patience, he won't heal quickly from what he's been through.  He touches her face, and sees instead a dark-haired human woman that reminds him of Jetta, or maybe she reminds him of her...he can't remember who she is or when he knew her but he sees her and knows he's touched this woman's face before in much the same way his fingers brush Minu's now.

But she is not his wife.  Minu is his wife and she's in front of him and scared, scared for him and for them.  He holds her again.  He feels responsible for her pain and he does not want to displease her, so he tries to kiss her.  Their lips meet and for a few seconds he is transported.  It has been so long.  So, so long.  The fear that knots his stomach just begins to ebb when the image of Denasha forms, angry, hateful, red eyes flaring as if she could cast fireballs from them.   He backs away, guilty, fearful, the enjoyment of the kiss gone.  Can they find him here?  Can he run?

Finally he sleeps.  He dreams of farming, and singing, and pianos, and dark-haired women and dark-skinned elves.  It is not restful sleep.  And now it is morning and he should get up.

But he is Andrew Reid.  He doesn't have to.  He rolls over and lets his eyes close.  It is good to be Andrew Reid.

[RollinsCat]

Shivering in the bath, he checks himself again.  Again.  And again.  He's terrified.  Who is he?

The legs are long, he knows he's tall.  The body is...thin...he's thin...there are things he remembers about himself that seem distant but he knows he should look this way.  Black hair.  Dark eyes.  Hairless chest and face.  The hand mirror sits to the right of the shallow tub and he picks it up often but it doesn't offer solace, only reaffirmation.  He is Andrew William Reid.

He'll never take the necklace off again.  Ilsare is protecting him from whatever they did to him.  She is the only thing keeping him whole and staving off the pain.  His silver heart and clef, his consecrated holy symbol, his link to Her - he'll never let them take it again, unless they beat him senseless.  He has to stay away from Jako.  He's never been manhandled with such embarrassing ease before and he still feels like a toddler who tried to wrestle his father.  Ilsare could not protect him from Jako holding him down and Raven sitting on his legs.

Fortunately Ilsare did protect him from Minu's attempts to spell-hold him.  His Minu.  He had thought perhaps he could muscle past the dark elf memories and give her what she wanted...he tenses as he remembers and is both terrified and excited all over again.  He was ready.  He was going to - she is his wife, there is no shame.  And then the pain when she removed his necklace put a quick end to that, and he was in agony, on the floor, pleading with her to give it back, GIVE IT BACK.  His Minu, who comforted him only to call Raven and Jako up and ask them to wrestle him down - he should have fought with his rapier, he should have defended himself, he will next time - but something stopped him from outright attacking them.  It's not what Andrew...what he would do to a friend.  And his Minu took that necklace off again knowing that severing his connection to Ilsare would cause the pain and the change, and she handed him a mirror and forced him to see what they'd done.

Not unhandsome, actually.  Not bad.  But not him.

Gods, who was he?

[RollinsCat]

Things are a little better.  He's more confident now, with Minu and Jetta helping him remember.  No one has come for him, no one; he's still free, in charge of the Silver Buckle Inn, a member of a prominent guild, still learning, still growing.  He doesn't see dark elves in the corners of his eyes anymore.  He sees Andrew Reid when he looks in the mirror.

He has not taken off the necklace since that day.

He still doesn't recognize some people on sight, but his women help him and he remembers.  His singing sounds deeper but wasn't that on purpose?  He'd been trying to expand his range.  His songs still inspire and his voice lifts his allies up.  That is what is important.

Minu, Heloise and Jetta are unhappy that he's drinking but why not?  He's not a back-alley drunk.  He knows this, and proves it by not getting in his cups, but they don't believe him.  It makes him wonder what about himself he's forgotten but he won't let that stop him from having a beer now and then.

He and Minu are...good, mostly.  He's asked for yet more time.  He was ready, he was, but trust needs to be rebuilt after the last incident, and he still doesn't feel entirely comfortable.  She's understanding and kind and stays close to him.  And yet...perhaps she thinks he can't see the glances she and Jetta exchange, but he hasn't needed his glasses since his eyes finally adjusted to light again after so long in the Deep.  He sees the looks and sometimes, every once and a while, he feels like he's being humored.  He shakes it off - better humored for his eccentricities than outright manipulated by some dark elf female.

At least he has his women with him. Minu is in the kitchen and it is just he and Jetta and...so hard to resist, her gorgeous hair, her graceful walk, her slender but feminine figure.  He knows he's letting his hands linger when he touches her and he should stop, but worse, she's letting him.  What has he forgotten about them?  Is there something they're hiding from Minu?  Gods, this is complicated...best focus on fixing up Father Xander's room and figure out how they're going to house clinic guests in the meantime.  But he can't help watching Jetta as they push furniture around.  So pretty...

[RollinsCat]

A dark elf female is among the bodies.  Dead.  Bludgeoned.  No one is paying attention to him; he wanders closer, fascinated for reasons that flutter just out of reach, like a moth outside a lit window.

He rolls her onto her back and makes a show of searching but touching her is electric fear.  He can't do this.  He's not allowed to do this.  She'll...they'll...

He is Andrew William Reid and he is a free man.  The dagger he carries, the one inscribed with a dedication naming him as a Battle Sister - whatever that means, he being male and all - is in his hand.  He feels sick and wants to bow his head and beg forgiveness.  The first cut is done with hands shaking so badly he loses his grip on the iron weapon.  He is staring, unable to look away at what he's done.  One finger probes the cut.  

Nothing happens.

He pushes the finger in a little, lifts, looks.  Blood.  No magic, no metal, no spiders burst from her skin to devour him and she does not move.  Nothing, just blood and tissue.  

His hand moves on it's own, carving, just the outline...four wings, thick body.  Someone is asking him what the pits he's doing now, he stands quickly and wipes the blade.  The moth isn't really recognizable on the dark elf's face.  He puts the dagger away and flips her over with his foot.

Blood and tissue.  His hands are still shaking...something bangs around inside his ribcage, his heart or maybe his lungs...

[RollinsCat]

The wire bends a little further.  It is mithril-coated gold, very expensive, but easier to work that pure mithril and he's always thought gold to be a metal of love.  He sings out loud as he wraps it into loose circles until the pain is too much and he sags in his chair, the padded pliers slipping from his grip and onto the carpet.

The first circles are done.  The shape is there, only needing the last twists and soldering before he polishes.  But he can do no more today.  He feels a strain on his heart from trying to work through the haze of burning pain and a heart attack right now would not help matters.  He will stop.

It's been two weeks since they found he and Raina dead in the Deep and three days since their return to the Buckle.  Three days of mind-blowing normalcy.  Regular meals, snacks, and water - clean, fresh, pure water - drinking it, bathing in it, vowing never to take it for granted again.  He knows Raina feels the same.  She's hoarded some.  Clarisse has found glasses of it under Raina's bed and hidden behind books in the bookshelf.  There is no way to explain why, really.  Or to explain why their kidneys ache to splitting with the sudden demand on them, and why they tear up when they have to pee.  It will pass, yes, but the little things...

His wife fusses every single bit as much as he knew she would and he submits to every single minute of it and advises Raina to do the same.  The darkened rooms until their eyes are able to process light, the healing of hidden wounds from their beatings, the salves and unguents to remove layers of dead skin and to help heal their skin underneath...he's paler than he has ever been, and Minu warns him he may stay that way.  He may need to avoid the sun and wear protection and not go shirtless as he has in the past.  It is the smallest price to pay for being here, with her, and alive - but looking in a mirror is surreal.  He's not white, not quite, but months of not being able to bath at all have left him with so much dead skin sloughing off he looks like mummy.  Raina has not taken that reality well and avoids mirrors.  He wishes he had.

Minu moves past the door, her steps light and swift.  Minu, his anchor, his angel.  If it were not for her...the nightmares...she elbows him awake when he starts to scream, holds him as he wakes, disoriented, thinking himself back in that putrid cell until he feels her arms around him.  And even then.  Even then, nightmares of her doing exactly that, and morphing into a red-eyed, white-haired demon...he lashed out the first morning and they are both lucky he's as weak as a kitten.  He apologized over and over; she dismissed it, knowing that he won't be right for a while.

They have not had a chance to talk.  When he's not sleeping he's with Raina, helping her through an experience most who are not stonebound do not return to talk about, or working on this - his new holy symbol.

Lifting his project between thumb and forefinger, he examines it.  Not the quality of work you could commission from a proper jeweler but there could be nothing else to replace what he has lost.  For forty-five years, the silver heart with the silver charm dangling inside has rested under his voice box in the shallow hollow above his breastbone.  Twice it has been consecrated by his Ilsarian Priestess Alazira.  It has slid across a chain around his neck and comforted him with the weight of their years together, and although he knows it is just a thing, it was one of his two most prized possessions.  Bella is the other and rests in her case near him.  It doesn't appear "Andeux" even played her.  Good.

He returns to the pendant.  Minu has suggestions on who might make a replacement and he knows how good the Angel's work is.  He will of course ask them and only them to cut, polish, enchant and set the emerald.  But the setting he will make himself.  He has prayed in song every moment that he's worked on it.  The moth burns and the fire in his shoulder spreads when he does.  He can only keep it up in bursts, he knows how weak he is.  But this means something to him - his defiance of the dark elf attempts to cut him off from his Goddess bound up in graceful twist and swirls.  Screw them.  He will pray until he passes out, and he will pray as he shapes this simple heart and the clef that flows from it, for now music and love are no longer separated.  Music is love; the Heartsong is love, and love, music and Ilsare are all intertwined and so shall they be on this that he will wear around his neck from now on.

But he can do no more today and the steps echo lightly outside the door again.  Feeding time - she's strict about that.  He'd better go.

[RollinsCat]

Raina's eyes drooped.  Hot soup, fresh bread, and the rolling murmur of the Silver Buckle's background chatter worked better than any sleeping herb.  He gave her a hug, threatened to tell Minu if she didn't get a nap of her own free will - that was guaranteed to get a smile.  Raina now knew that he'd not been kidding about his wife's devotion to their health.  He left her sipping water and headed to his study.  

Their conversation was healing, the both of them sharing the sheer amazement that they were alive, here, clean, safe...kind of safe...for now.  There was a constant burning, the sensation of having one's hand too close to the fire for too long, on their shoulders.  Any illusion of true safety and freedom didn't last very long in light of that.  The double doors to his office thumped closed and again he wondered what he'd been marked with and why.

And, file that question for later - so many letters to write!  He took in the desk again, as he had since returning, afraid to touch anything.  His quills were there, his ink-pots, his papers - but everything was so...organized.  Quills neatly lined up.  Papers patted into a flush pile, not even a tiny corner out of place.  His books replaced on his bookshelf as well as a book of music he'd left out the day Raina had first come to ask his help months ago.  The desk was cleaned and polished.  Muse, whoever his dopplegager was, he was a spotless son of a hound.  He'd been afraid to unlock his bookshelf, but did so now although he could see through the glass that the same ruthless tidying had been committed against those tomes of his musings and music.  Poking around, it was worse than he thought.  Music books aligned not by mood or theme but in chronological order?!  Who does that?  How could that man have guessed what song had been finished when, when he didn't date most of his work?  He put things he created in this book or that, wherever it seemed to fit best, and he could tell some had been moved around.  What a bloody mess.

He was still staring at the shelf as he sunk into his chair.  Some other person had assumed his face, written his name, kissed his wife.  Although, thank you Ilsare - he winced as the burning flared - nothing more.  He braced himself against the now-familiar surge of pain to sing yet another prayer of thanks to his Muse for sparing them both that humiliation.  And for saving he and Raina, and for helping him to further understand the Heartsong.  He prayed until his lunch was inches from his throat, then stopped and breathed shallowly until his stomach settled.  A special cigar from a box under some books in the bottom desk drawer would help with that, maybe even make him hungry.  He guessed that as much as he wife didn't like him indulging, his renewed appetite might convince her it was an acceptable trade-off.

None of which changed the fact that he still had a lot of writing to do, and his hesitation to touch his own possessions was born of some imagined violation by Andeux Reid, as he thought of the man.  There were times he wanted to hate and could not, but this was not one of them.  He bore the  man no malice...yet.  Minu had described him and he knew the face.  He remembered the calm requests for information and how in those first few weeks the food had been delivered with some regularity.  He remembered singing for that man, telling him stories, reciting old family history, describing friends.  He remembered it only hazily - he'd been heavily drugged during that time - but he remembered.  Who knows how they'd gotten that poor bard, perhaps the same way they'd captured he and Raina.  Ilsare only knew who he was.  But - he'd escaped, in his own way, and had the good conscience to leave him the things he'd borrowed, and not screwed his life up too badly.  Andeux had been a good worker, Raven Blue said.  Minu said he didn't have an evil heart.  Others had echoed that.  He lit the cigar and forced himself to pick up a quill and a sheet of parchment, humming as he dipped the ivory goose pinion into a pot of black ink.

Wherever you are, Andeux Reid, keep running.  I know what they'll do to you if they catch you.


To: Conductor Edgar Whinessy
c/o The Resonance of Being
Port Hempstead Municipal District
Port Hempstead
Kingdom of Brelin
Mistone

Conductor, greetings from Andrew Reid.

I would like to arrange to speak with you as soon as you are able to see me.  I have had an experience that has left me scarred - literally - and I need your advice and suggestions.  I will give an overview here and details when we meet.

A storytelling friend of mine came to ask my help one day a few months ago as she'd seen two dark elves in the woods near Mariner's Hold torturing a dwarf.  Thinking myself strong enough to match them, we left and the lady brought me to where they'd been.  The dwarf, now dead, had been left to burn over a fire and I informed the woman to take cover in the trees and pursued the dark elves on foot.  I found them torturing a human, toying with him, seeming (if only to my horrified eyes) to draw strength from his suffering.  However they did not use instruments or weapons, they used voice and song to drop this man to his knees before slitting his throat.

I say horrified toward myself as well because I was afraid, and did not move fast enough to save the man's life.  I was afraid because their song was nothing I've heard before - nothing I've sung before - far worse than even the songs of cursing that several of my bardic friends know.  In my hesitation I was spotted and the two dark elven women turned on me.  One seared me with her very touch, the other sang and it closed off my throat with waves of sweet, languid sound.  Beautiful voices with deadly intent.  I wasn't fully aware of what they were doing but knew I had to get away.  It was then that my companion fired an arrow to distract the dark elves.  One gave her chase, the other chased me, although I was able to lose her in the woods and return to my inn.

I think I'm flattering myself here.  I didn't lose her, she let me go.  Although I did not know it at the time, they had already captured my friend.  I sought the aid of a lady tracker of my acquaintance, one of the best there is, and she and I returned to the woods to try and find my friend.  Instead we found a path underground.  We entered the hole and went in pursuit but as I got deeper in I started having visions of my friend and I sensed her calling me to help.  I followed what my heart was hearing and discovered her tied to some makeshift slab in a deep, deep cave full of dark elves.

I was spotted nearly immediately as I snuck in trying to figure a way to help her.  One of the two female dark elf...let's call them bards, for lack of a suitably vicious term for what they do - put me unconscious from pain merely by touching me, and that is the last thing I remember before waking in a cell.  My tracking friend arrived to late to rescue us but did see us taken away.

We spent several months there, being tortured on a regular basis and then tossed back into our cells.  Food was intermittent and water rationed such that we were dehydrated all the time.  I found out only recently that the quiet and polite slave bringing us our food for the first two weeks, who was asking me all manner of questions about myself, assumed my identity with some magic grafted on to my old holy symbol to change his features to mine.  It was only the concern and determination of my wife that cracked that facade and allowed her to organize a rescue party to release us from captivity.  

As much as I would complain about the unwashed agony of my time there, it did do one thing for me that I did not expect - this young lady has turned out to be someone with which I share a special bond.  With her I am able to understand the sharing of emotion that leads to warmth and a sense of well-being, even a sense of healing.  I believe I have found Other.  I will tell you more in person.

As I did not know that I had been replaced, I awaited rescue rather than risking my companion's life, although we waited too long I daresay.  I made the decision to finally flee after we were each put through a ritual and had carved into our shoulders the outline in black of a moth.  It was after this that I thought perhaps we'd passed a test.  That usually means the worst is still to come...with that in mind we escaped our cells through the nastiest sewer I have personally ever been in and with the Muse's blessing a group of my friends led by my wife found us freshly dead over a dark elf trap I'd missed while hunting for a way out.  They finished our escape and called us back from the dead.

And so, here we sit she and I, marked by bardic dark elves, recovering from our skin concerns brought about through not bathing, and appreciating food and water with a fervor you can't imagine.  One agonizing thing I would ask about is why does this tattoo cause me so much pain when I pray?  I can't even summon an archer - the very act of worship makes my shoulder burn as if it were made of liquid fire.

I wish to speak of these things with you and see if an identifier for the moth can be found, and to hear your advice.  Please let me know when is a good time to visit.

Yours in the Muse,


Andrew Reid


Sealed and stamped with his wax kanji, set aside.  He moved the pot of ink over and let the drop winding down the side go.  And shuffled the parchment a bit for good measure, so it wasn't a such a tidy square.  He was getting sleepy and would need a nap soon, but one more before he gave his battered body rest.  He needed to know what this moth was, and there lives in this world one single dark elf he trusted personally who might know.  Just one, but oh what a lady.  It would be a hard sell to convince Raina of a dark elf's good intentions, but that would not stop him from asking in the hopes of healing both of them.  Again quill to pot to paper.

To: Alantha T'sarran
Stort
Alibor Island

Milady Alantha, I write in hopes you might meet with me...

[RollinsCat]

To:
William and Margaret Reid
2 Clay Ward
Huangjin
Tilmar

Hello my beloved parents.  

First, and foremost before anything else is written; if I or Minu show up at your doorstep please ask the following question - What color and pattern were the flower pots that I wanted remade?

If you check your receipts you'll see the first set I ordered for Minu and that is the answer to the question.  If either of us show up and can't answer that question, be wary and write immediately.  Find an excuse to not let us in.  Make sure the guards are close at hand.  Also, I am sending a bank note - this letter should reach you via a trusted courier, by the way - so you can afford more guards.

Why?  Because Minu and I have both been captured by and escaped dark elves recently.  They invaded our minds, and in my case, sent a double up to allay fears while they tortured and marked myself and my friend.  It did not occur to me that they would be spying, although it should have, until Minu was similarly captured and stripped of her goods, her blood and hair taken.  The necklace I've worn for most of my life is gone, now an object twisted with magic to obscure the face of the man who looks like me.  More, as I escaped them, it's very possible you might be targeted.  As I said last we met, it is the way of these creatures to destroy all that is good, loving, and caring.  They are incapable of feeling mercy or empathy and families and friends of enemies are easy targets.  I beg you to use the bank note to increase your security and I will be sending another soon.

Moushiwake gozaimasen.  I put you all increasingly at risk.  I have more I wish to say but it seems remarkably self-pitying and it is you that I am concerned with so let me end this and please return a letter via the same courier letting me know all is well?  I'll be home to visit as soon as I can.

Your loving son


Tashe

[RollinsCat]

To: Edgar Whinessy
c/o The Resonance of Being
Port Hempstead Municipal District
Port Hemstead
Kingdom of Brelin
Mistone

Greetings Conductor from the fields outside your lovely port city.

I very much need to meet with you or someone you recommend to discuss a side of the Resonance expressly forbidden, as soon as you can spare me some time.  I have been through an experience that has left me deeply shaken as well as marked.  

Having not delved deeply into using song - and never the Resonance - for deliberately causing pain and having avoided the skald's path, I blundered, and there is no better word for it, into months of agony at the hands and voices of some dark elven women who have bardic powers.  Beyond that, they can project terror, distorted dreams, and sheer agony through the Resonance in ways I will never be able to forget.  In my lunatic ego I endangered another and although we have come from our captivity alive thanks to my wife and my friends, there is much I need to learn about what we went through.

In addition, I am marked with a magical tattoo that acts as interference to my prayers to our Lady and causes me pain I didn't know I could withstand.  I have a friend who has postulated that there is a resonance to the magic that might be modulated but I am ashamed to say the pain has me fearful of attempting this.  I would like your opinion.

There is more but I would prefer to speak in person.  And if I do show up, please immediately ask me to demonstrate what I have learned - there is a double of me out there and although he has my bardic abilities I do not believe he has any training that would allow him to hear the Resonance in his heart.  He is I am told marked as I am and the necklace he wears, which was once mine, both changes his appearance to match my own and prevents him from feeling the pain of the Mark of Torment we both wear.  I do not believe he is dangerous but he is confused and was a captive of the same dark elves.  If they have recaptured him he may now be acting as a spy.

I apologize for the hasty nature of this letter and hope you will see me soon.

Yours in our Muse,

[RollinsCat]

Minu had slipped off to deal with a customer.  He lay across a couch plus a bit of another in the private sector of the shop.  The reddened ashes of a fire and a closed flue produced tendrils of smoke that harassed his nostrils but after the travel here he didn't bother to open the flue nor tamp the embers.  He did not, in fact, move.  Their conversation kept cycling, round and round, a chaser to his draught of exhaustion; banned, compromised, revoked...

He'd been unkind, even harsh with her.  Banned from Port Hempstead due to being compromised by dark elves?  What?  How did they find out?  Why had it even come up?  The answer did not please him.  His wife was an honest woman, far more than himself the majority of the time, and her reasoning he could understand - in his head.  It didn't stop an avalanche of scenarios from tumbling down, including being banned from the city that held his Inn, and his pain-induced temper had flared.  Even in the short time they'd talked he had to stop himself from saying worse than he had.  And Kaelan, why?  Idiot lawmen.  He understood why the elf had done what he'd done.  Their response was tiny-minded and fearful.  If you don't want anyone to scry your fair city, my lords, don't let anyone in it.  Otherwise?  All bets are off.  There are dark elves in it now, believe you me, watching, waiting...

He didn't need this right now.  Not right now.  He had multiple investigations going on, a soup kitchen to get started, his duties to the guild, his Inn to run, his double to find, Raina to accompany to her parents, and now his travel time was doubled as he'd have to go through Fort Vehl to go home.  Too much - it was too much, and all at a time that he was never not in pain.  He'd built up a little tolerance but not enough.  His holy symbol was a constant burrowing presence, a vine wrapped around his neck with thorns growing through his skin.  He'd longed to beg Minu to be strong, to not take his words to heart but to know that he hurt too much to be rational and then to speak all the ugliness that had been building since his connection to Ilsare was choked off...but that was not how they worked, and in the end he'd slipped the symbol off to apologize with something other than a snarl.  To soothe her after he upset her with his shattering lack of calm.  And to get what sleep the reduced pain would allow after his long ride here.

It was a hole in his heart, that he wanted so badly to wear this necklace and yet was so relieved that he was not.  He'd allow a little more sleep, assuming he could, and it went on again.  For all he knew it was the only thing protecting him or a test of Ilsare's he was failing right now and every second the gold-covered mithril chain dangled from his hand and not from his neck.  He didn't know, and that was what frightened him most of all.  If She'd turned her back, if this was his punishment for all those years, for his stupidity in failing to save Raina the first time, if She had stopped caring whether he was wearing the symbol or not...then all this pain was for nothing.

Spiraling, down, down...he needed to sleep, it was the tired having a free run of him.  Ilsare hadn't turned Her back on him.  He thought this to himself as he hummed, trying to bring his mood back to sane, his emotions circling the kernel of doubt as if it had gravitational pull.

I am sorry, Ilsare...

Pain, the moth flutters, fire ignites in his blood.

I'm sorry...

And he is done.  He cannot take another moment, another gout of liquid red flame.  Sleep.  Days without anything more than drifting into fitful naps...he must sleep.

Watch over me.  Please.