[IC] Free Saga: What Once Was

[Redward]

Stumbling was not something that often happened to a girl so nimble as Idani Umbele, especially not with such force. That's uncanny, came the thought, as soon as her feet were out from under her, mercurial as the action its self. There had been a force at her back, otherworldly and foreign. She had felt magic, many times; shops in Drasil, around the Sand-Eater campfires, dancing with the Empty-Handed Gypsies. This was unlike any of those things.

She landed hard on her side, having turned with the impact, produced a loud grunt and curled in on herself. Her left arm was caught under her, stretched awkwardly on the dirt; but it was unbroken. She dug for purchase and scrambled to her feet; casting a narrow glare along the path behind her. Idani's mind raced, though nothing moved among the trees. But what was it? My body feels fine. Concussive explosion? Whatever it had been, it was intent on hiding itself. Her fingers slid to a hilt of a dagger hidden in her one sleeve. The forest remained much the same. Sun dappled and full of birds.

An assassin? She did not draw her blade, but stared ahead, wondering, Out here? Oakheim wasn't far ahead, that much she was aware of; a small hamlet renowned for the quality of it's Forgehert Smithery. Idani slid her left leg back, bringing her arms up; and kept her fingers lingering near the blade. The barest moment passed before a small hum pierced the air, breaking her guard. Then came another rush of the pressing force. Idani saw it, this time; a writhing crescent that distorted the air hurtling towards her. Pivoting, she took a long hop away. What was its source? None of the branches were broken and it was in the middle of the path. Again came the force. More clearly.

Now! For a long time Idani had been used to running and twisting and avoiding. Even if I were hit, it didn't do much but knock me down. Still, she knew that falling closer to the energy's source could be dangerous. Like the time in Undhand's Tomb. Despite the foreign feel, she was determined. In her rapid approach, she saw it; something that hadn't been moments before. Yet, there it was; a book. Flinging bizarre projectiles at her.

Idani Umbele did exactly what her instincts demanded. Her momentum was put into the jump, flinging her toward the prize she was going claim. Safe, she told herself as she slid behind a thick tree. The book continued firing as she crouched low, taking her fingers away from the hilt of her hidden dagger. Branches rattled and leaves fell, but the tree remained standing; giving naught to the paltry onslaught. Now, what to do? Naturally, she wanted the book. It obviously held some kind of power. Unless a crazy Magi threw their journal into the forest. It's too far to knock askew with a branch, unless I get a particularly large one. I doubt that would work well.

Adjusting her hood, Idani rose from her crouch and darted to the next tree. She proceeded to do this three times, then paused. The noise stopped after she had passed the second. By her judgment, she was behind the book. Did that actually work? Idani skirted around, peering out slightly.

Indeed, it was laying there. For a moment, tension; Idani fully prepared to retreat. Nothing happened. No strange surge. She tested the tentative peace. Within four seconds she was crouching near the book, her dagger produced and halfway wedged under the grimoire's cover. It was bound in worn black leather, bearing faint letters near the bottom. Not any language I'm aware of. Of course, she only spoke Drasilian and Volanci; with enough Seresish to make slow conversation. Slowly, she lifted it; fully expecting a trap of some sort.

Nothing happened. Part of her was disappointed, the other half was still wary. With the book splayed open, Idani tested a page. Seems fine, now. Strange. Her fingers touched the edge of the first, eyes lingering over neatly scrawled characters that she could almost say were Runes. The ink seems rather faded. Lifting it was still a cautious motion, but the vagrant girl had relaxed. Whatever the problem had been, it seemed to have become tame.

A smile touched on her face as the book fell into her pouch. She didn't know what it was for, or how important it was; but Idani knew that it was magic, and that it was probably worth something. Better to be rid of it, quickly, then.

As she turned toward Oakheim, she felt a small chill at the nape of her neck.

"What?" She said to something that could have been a whisper on the breeze. "Are you talking to me? I'm not quite sure I know what it is you're saying." Idani's eyes slid shut, her words turning to a quiet mutter. "No, I don't think so. I haven't seen anything like that in some time." While she was not aware of it, she was laying down, sliding her satchel under head head. "I really should be going..."

Within her next breath, she was asleep.

[jdh97]

Dusk was creeping in, slowly pulling back the honey rays of sunlight towards the ruby stained horizon. Farmsteads and lonely cottages leaked lamplight and chimney smoke, as families settled down for the evening, safe and warm from the encroaching night.

Stalks of wheat and barley rustled as a chill wind passed them. Waves of blue-cast grass lapped at the dirt wagon trail. It was nearly empty.

Two figures road along abreast. One was a cloaked silhouette that seemed to shift and break, like the smoke of a guttering candle, riding a massive black destrier, muscled and powerful, its breath misting against the air of the waning day. The other was atop a slender mare of pure white. This rider was also smaller, and wore riding dresses too fine for the locality.

They seemed to be engaged in conversation. A wayside inn came into view, and the pale rider slowed, enough to make the other circle back and slowly draw up back next to them. A voice like gravel and sliding rocks crashed from the horses.

“We should ride on into the night, Reshi. Our horses won’t throw shoes on the wagon trail.”

Then came the response, careful and patient, like a glacier – it spoke in inevitability.

“There is only so much haste required; we will arrive when we need to.”

“Then at least let us camp in the forest.”

“You know I do not sleep so well without a bed, and I need to again before entering Oakheim.”

There was a grumble, like a rockslide, but silence resumed, save for the beating of hooves upon hard packed clay and earth.

The Traveller’s Respite, a leaning, three-story building, each floor distinct from the others, but no less well-crafted, spoke of the hasty capitalisation of being the final stop along the Eastern route to Oakheim. Smoke billowed from inside a large circle of wagons in the yard behind, orange light dancing upon the canvas, and merriment and music spilling out of every recess.

The two stopped outside, the woman handing her reigns to Karl. As he led both beasts to the stables, Aleora entered the common room. It was a bustling affair, with shouted conversations and sloshing drinks, underneath a thick veil of pipesmoke and plucked strings. She didn’t garner much attention this late into the night, though a few lupine eyes followed her.

A woman rushing around behind a bar, polishing the surface and pulling drinks.

“Aye lass, how kin aye ‘elp?” Several of her teeth were missing, and the rest seemed in some state of decay. Her face was creased and shiny.

“I would like to buy food and board for the night.”

Almost immediately the woman shook her head, flicking her oily locks from side to side. “Neh kin do, full.” She set a flagon in front of a man who was slumped over the bar.

“Oh, dear me, that is a shame, what am I to do?” As Aleora said this she began stroking her chin very slowly with her left hand, her ring on full display. The proprietor’s eyes went large and glassy, and she began waving her hands and stammering, rushing over to Aleora.

“Oh, nay me thinks aboot et, ye kin haf may rum, free of charge fur sucha leddy as yerself.” She did her best to give an ingratiating smile, but with so many teeth missing the end result was quite the opposite. Nonetheless, Aleora smiled gracefully, though it did not touch her eyes, and bobbed her head ever so slightly.

“How fortunate.”

The room was adequate; the mattress was stuffed with goose down and it had well-fitted boards, though there was a pervading odour of port and cheese. Karl and Aleora began preparing for sleep in silence, their travelled packs hauled to the foot of the bed. Karl set up his bedroll in front of the door, sword tucked next to it.

“Reshi, when will you tell me why we are here.”

She looked at him and tilted her head, dressed in a pale blue nightgown.

“You have followed me this far, dear Watcher, I only ask for your trust one night longer, and I shall tell you on the road tomorrow; there are things I am still unsure of, and perhaps tonight my lady will grace me with their elucidation.”

He was frowning at the floor. She walked over and brushed her lips against his forehead. He seemed to soften, his shoulders dropping.

“I would not keep so much from you if it was not a necessity. I trust you above all else, oh watcher of mine.”

He nodded slowly. “Very well, good night Reshi.”

[Redward]

Idani Umbele had long left the patch of path behind her, the strange book tucked safely away and mostly forgotten about. She had strode through dusk, impudent and certain; there were few who could surprise her well enough to win a battle that began with an ambush. As most louts and thieves seem to think it's an advantage, you had better learn to look for it, she told herself the words, though they were not originally spoken in her voice, They're a coward's lot, to be sure. Act quickly, and don't stop for small-talk. Small-talk's their bread-and-butter. Gives 'em time to think. She was mimicing her 'mentor's' motions, as she walked, but thankfully few were in view to notice. The rules still followed her, down the many roads. Worse, his voice still lingered with her.

She shook her head, noticing The Traveler's Respite in the distance. All warm glows and small carvan rows. It will do, for a short rest. Idani didn't intend to spend her coin in a place like that, unless it was for Risat; a Drasilian game that had long since spread to much of the world. Idani favored games where there was more than chance involved. It was a tall building, and the last true stop before one reached Oakheim. I'll rest up, a little, and be on my way before sunrise.

Her footfalls brought her ever-closer, smells of seared meat and the surprising scent of heavy liquor. Soft singing, from those who stayed close to their caravans. Probably the assistants of whoever got a cushy bed for the night. Or those without coin for a proper stay. For a moment, she considered making her way to them. To join in the dancing and singing. Part of her loved the idea, to cut completely loose after the strange dream she had suffered. The more practical side said to slide into the inn and figure out something more lucrative, or to at least spend her few hours of rest in a chair; rather than the ground.

"What?" Idani said, stopping short; bathed in the building's side shadow. Despite the relative warmth, she shivered. It had to be my imagination. Shrugging it off, she made her way around to the front. The door was solid, but bore signs of age. Though it was heavy, for her, she managed to make opening it look nonchalant and slid inside.

Smoke lingered, as it almost always did in these places, overhead; creating a thin layer of acrid clouds above those huddled at the tables. Given her late arrival, the drinking crowd had thinned down; a little. There were a few raucous gamblers that she marked for later interaction, a pretty serving girl and a few homely ones. A bartender with a broken fence for teeth, and a man who crouched at her side; his bulk still showing over the considerably low counter.

Eyes fell on her, as her eyes fell on others. She felt it, and another shiver, but didn't bother seeking their source. Instead, she approached the bar and spoke. Idani tried to subdue her Drasilian inflection, keeping her words as close to the Volanci 'lower dialect' as she possibly could.

"Uh, hello. I'd like a tankard of..." Idani considered, many places didn't carry her favored drink, but it rarely stopped her from asking. Here, however, it seemed prudent to exercise caution. No Coldfire tonight. "A tankard of King's Blood, if you would." King's Blood was Volanci, through and through; a brew originated in Izia's Kiss, a small village she knew little of...but had heard the name lauded in many brew-halls.

The woman gave her a look she couldn't fully identify, and the crouching hulk muttered something quick in Volanci. Idani raised an eyebrow, taking her eyes from the rise of his rippling back and directed them toward the woman with the rotting mouth. "Just one. That should be more than enough. I don't intend to stay here."

“King’s Blood, eh lass?” An eyebrow raised, “Not many pass here ask fer ale haf enuff clout between their ears to know brews haf names, but we’re refined lass, ladies, ain’t we?” She winked and gave a holey smile, “Aye, I kin getcha yer drink.”

She flicked the rag onto her shoulder and went about pulling a tankard full. Wood slammed again wood, and it sloshed as the lady slid it across the bar to Idani. She wiped it up with her yellowed rag.
“Mind, bes’ not be trav’llin’ by yerself, 'specialy at this hour, any man would be daft to, and a pretty fing like you…” She spat onto the wood and began polishing, “ach, it don’t do to fink about.”

Another quick utterance from the hidden big man. Idani ignored it, taking up her tankard and tilting it back; a firm gulp following the motion. She watched them over the rim, before lowering. She knew well what the woman was talking about, but had avoided the fate a few times; mostly thanks to luck and an astounding capacity to weave believable lies. "That we are," she said with a half-sigh, smiling, "having a refined palette is part of being a refined lady." A wink, offered with a continuing smile, her elbows propped on the counter. "Thank you, very much, for the drink and the words of caution. I've been on the road for a good bit."

Time to get to work.

Despite her earlier statement, Idani fully intended to find a way to stay beneath a roof tonight. The nap she barely remembered taking had left her somewhat drained, despite how long it had seemed to last. Without thought, her fingers trailed to the satchel at her side. "I know a fair deal about herbs, as well. If it would help earn me a nice bed for a few hours, I would be willing to part with a fair bundle of Grinning Grass." That part was whispered, barely noticeable to those outside of their immediacy. A silver coin clicked against the counter, before Idani slid it carefully to the woman's side of the counter. It was more than enough for the drink, but not enough for the bed; and, unfortunately, it was all she was willing to part with...aside from her array of worldly goods.

The woman sniffed, her face crinkling like old parchment.

“Smell that lass?” Her eyes drifted upwards, scanning the ceiling.
The hand drawing the rag in circles continued, cleaning the top in front of Idani, despite the spill being long gone. One might have noticed the coin too was gone, likely now nestled safely in an apron pocket between a length of twine and some needle and gut. Perhaps the glint was never silver at all, just the woman’s ring? One could not be certain…

“Smells like a deal. Better not be horse shite. Life can be a wee bit hard on you and yer like, but,” Her eyes came down from the ceiling, piercing emeralds among the haze of smoke, “a woman’s word is always sacred.”

She busied herself, flicking her hands to her maids, sometimes even needing only a singular look. The bustled round with trays and bowls of soup and bread.

“Lass,” another flagon was set down in front of Idani, “This is t’ good stuff, don’t want that wallowing piss. I’ll take yerself t’room when yer ready. Mind, yer’ll hafta share with me, ‘course,” She huffed, “but et’s the only place to be safe.

Sacred? Nobody has a word that is sacred, dear lady. However, I can't deny that there is a certain understanding between our gender. Idani veiled her thoughts with a broadened smile. With fluidity, she moved her hand to the satchel's mouth; reaching in without ceremony. The Grinning Grass was still its perfectly sickly shade of high yellow and similarly acidic green. She had acquired it through trade, of course, with an Empty-Handed Gypsy who had recognized her on the road some odd miles across the Drasilian border. She takes me to be of a similar ilk, it seems. I suppose that's not terribly far from the truth.

"Then it's a deal done," the Grass was offered with an open palm, Idani leaning forward to cover it from prying eyes, "you have my word on its quality. Though I think your eyes can discern that for themselves." In a moment, it was gone, Idani back to her seat proper; a flagon before her. She took a sip, this time, testing it; her smile bordering on mischievous. "I don't mind sharing a room, and you have my thanks for your consideration and hospitality. Is this Kneeling Man or Crowfeather?" She had become somewhat trained in the taste of all forms of alcohol, given her mentor's disposition. "They share a similar body and aftertaste, but I believe I 'm quite uncertain as to this particular brew."

She tended to the second drink with more care. Listening to the patrons, picking out particular conversations among the quiet mumbling and more raucous rumbling. She watched the woman, though, somewhat impressed. Her hands were fast and she struck Idani as the sort to take business seriously. She probably owns the place. A flicker of her gaze at the large man, who had stood and begun walking away while Idani did what she did best. "You run a fine establishment," it wasn't a lie, for once, Idani rather liked The Traveler's Respite, "I'm assuming some travel here from Oakheim?" She had spied calloused hands and dirty clothes, mingled with the usual traveling sort.

In truth, she was fishing for information; in her casual way. Idani yawned, despite herself, and again propped herself on the counter. The second flagon in one hand, while the other danced lazily across the counter's slick surface. She imagined herself playing some grand instrument, though she had only learned a little of the lute and flute. Whatever it was, it occupied the nervous energy running through her; and kept her fingers nimble.

The woman looked for no more than a handful of seconds, and then hid her gaze by wiping beads of sweat from her upper lip. She nodded.

“Ach, fink nothing of it, lass,” she flopped her hand at the air, “I used tah travel in mah yoof. I know how it can be.”

“A mighty refined tongue you have there,” She leaned back, tilting her head, “What yer be tasting is a special brew I traded fer a while back, my own reserve. A man from a place called Highford, far west o’ here, came by ta get him a metal man fer his business. Sold me a story, about how the mugwort used grows in a ruined abbey, local like, that burned down. All sorts of wild stories about that, but that’s nary a fing to concern yerself, just hocus pocus and bored seamstresses wiff lives too boring fer their own good,” Her eyebrows twitched slightly, and she paused, staring of, before shaking her rag at Idani, “It grows in the ashes, guess all those books were good fer somefing after all, because it has a fine taste indeed.” A raucous, stale laughed husked out from between her teeth.

“Fanking you kindly madam,” she looked about, “Probably. We gets all sorts, caravans tend ta stick in the ring outside, musta seen et coming in? Besides from that, Oakheim attracts a motley bunch, not many just passing through, mainly theys eiver coming or going from the place.”

Idani took another sip, still quietly tapping out a rhythm that most minstrels would probably find maddening. Her eyes, though, told another story. Slight sorrow. I was wrong. It didn't matter, much, but she liked to think herself better than to be wrong about a brew. Of course, she knew it would probably happen again; at some point. "Did you?" Idani's tone was chipper, but still within the realm of casual exchange, "I've been on the road for about six years." That much wasn't a give away, she had come to learn. A surprise, to some; a curiosity to others. Still, Idani had her stories.

"It's good, though the abbey burning is a shame. I can't fault the result," she managed while drinking, "and I have to give you my thanks for providing it. To share one's personal stash is quite generous." Idani watched the woman, as she continued, folding her arms on the counter, "And I suppose you have the right of it. I've learned to speak quickly and to speak well. My mentor was sure to ensure my hidden predilection was made manifest." True, she did speak well; though her mentor had little to do with it. "I was going to be a singer, until he passed." She reclined, a little, though not so much as to sit properly.

Stupid old man, came the bitter thought, you should have just... Idani brought her satchel to sit in her lap, using her left hand; returning it to rest after her belongings were in their proper place. "I had thought of staying with one of the caravans, but..." A shrug accented what she had to say; Idani being small and lithe as she was, "trouble tends arise when I put myself in rough company." That, at least, was honest. Again, a yawn unbidden. "I'm curious to see one of the Oakheim-made Golems, myself. I've heard a few stories about them. Once I've done that, I'll probably be on my way; again."

She lightly tapped her fingers, after draining the flagon. Her head was fuzzy, but Idani enjoyed the usual feeling. "I'll retire, soon, if that's fine with you Miss," Idani hadn't been given a name, and hadn't asked for one. She rather liked that, though she was sure it would come up in conversation, eventually. "I must ask, before I do, however; what is it that made you stop?" She broadened her smile, a little.

“’Tis what brings most folk ‘ere, ta be sure.” She chucked the rag into a basin lined with lye suds and then turned back to Idani, brushing her hands together slow and absentmindedly, searching the sleight girl’s face. She muttered something, a prayer, perhaps, and drew a symbol in the air. “May he pass on well.”

“But a singa, hmm?” she rubbed her chin with still-damp hands, “Coulda paid yer way with that, too, if yer kin hold a note, not like these folk’ll see much past yer face anyways, most ah the sods, that is.”
“Aye, I’ll be coming on now too,” she took of her apron, revealing a simple white dress underneath, and hung it upon a hook beneath a large hog’s head.

Eyes are a curious thing, the proverbial gateway to the soul, and even for how little their features change, this holds iron truth. When Idani asked her closing question, those emerald doorways transformed, memories flashing in a furnace of emotion, forming an amalgam of sorts, a counterpoint to the room, and to her; those eyes had seen far more than most. They gazed into the far off void over Idani’s head.

“I lost something invaluable,” it was a whisper, “something I could never hope to replace.”
Then her eyes focussed, and she coughed, flushing slightly.

“Lez not ‘member my youth though, et’ll just mek me sad. This was to er room,” and she turned abruptly, striding off to the stairwell.

"I'm sorry," Idani said, rising from her seat, "I understand well what you mean. Thank you, for your blessing. I know he's somewhere better than where he was, when he passed." She took a few hopping steps to catch up, her smile half of what it was before. The look in Miss Barkeep's eyes had stricken Idani deeply. She was, despite her somewhat cynical nature, very much attuned to the suffering that surrounded her; so long as it didn't impede her ventures, or her purse. "My master's name was Kinrothu Brei. He came from Jova. I called him 'Kin'. Mayhaps you've heard of him?" Idani still spoke to her, though she was a little behind; her mind drifting to the Cherry Leaves and kind people of Jova. She had spent nearly two years there, in hiding. "His 'performing name' was 'Roth'. We never made a lot of money, but I've never seen a man who could better play the lute."

That was strangely true. Despite the man being perpetually drunk, or seeking to become such, he was an excellent musician. And an even better liar. And an even more practiced thief. Kin had become her father, for a time, after she had fled her home. It was he who had taken her from danger and delivered her into a life that the young girl wasn't fully prepared for. Still, I adjusted well. There are few who could have walked my path with such grace. A quiet chuckle, at her own sarcastic comment. She had slipped up many times, earning a good clout on the ear; a good many times. He had toughened a soft girl and made her see the world as it was.

I wish he hadn't, sometimes.

"You've a fair point, about how people would see me. If I wanted to be admired for my body, I'd have become a dancer when I had the chance," though the kind matron wouldn't see it, Idani broadened her smile, once again, taking the stairway in dainty strides. "I...don't think that sort of work is for me, though." A fingertip pressed against her lower lip, she continued. "If you're ever in need of a singer, though, and I happen to grow tired of my wandering...perhaps you and I could brighten the night's mood in your lovely Traveler's Respite!"

She passed by several rooms, until the kindly woman opened the door. She slid in, behind her; smiling. It was wonderful, despite being hardly anything special. There was a fairly large bed, a window, a couple of chairs and a lamp already lit. Idani brought the satchel from her side and picked a spot on the floor, sliding it behind her. She sat upright, but gave a bow. Sleep had already begun to fall upon her, and she had little time left.

"Thank you," she said again, smiling broadly at the woman who she felt would be a true friend...if Idani had the time to spend with her; perhaps someone she would come to adore. "I will be taking my rest. Perhaps, in the morning...you and I may speak more." Idani Umbele truly meant that. She had intended to say more, but within her next breath she was curled up on the floor; her head resting on her satchel...a whispered lullaby luring her back to the darkness.

[jdh97]

With dawn breaking, shafts of sunlight slipping through the cracks in the curtains, spiralling specks of dust were illuminated. Distant clangs came from the kitchen followed by sharp inhales of breath. The whole inn was waking up. The timbers stretched and yawned.

In the room, it was quiet. Idani, were she awake, might have noticed the proprietor leave, tiptoeing over mischievous floorboards. She might have heard the slowing turning the key in the door, the lifting latch, and the woman teasing a crack just wide enough to fit through, and then slipping out, a faint rustling of her dress as the only sound of her departure. Breath escaping in a yawn. A shift in the sheets.

Were that tiny girl awake, she might’ve counted the seconds that passed until the woman returned. But no, the woman had been careful; she had been quiet as a mouse and gentle as a mother’s touch. Secrecy shrouded her. Time went missing.

Idani sat up, her slight gasp chasing away the phantoms of a dream that seemed to have been strangling her. While she had no cause to think of it in such a way, the pit in her stomach told her of nightmares. She grumbled, rubbing at the back of her head; taking a few quick glances around the room. The kindly Miss has probably already set about her day. I should be on my way, soon. The Drasilian girl checked her sleeve, finding her dagger still in its proper place. Then she wiggled her toes, still within the confines of her soft leather boots. That didn't do me any favors. She hopped to her feet, stretching and replacing her hood before grabbing her makeshift pillow and slinging the strap over her shoulder; familiar weight thudding against her hip.

There's no excuse for me to be so tired. Though she did little to recall how long it had been since a roof had been over her head and something more hospitable than grass beneath her as she slept. Travelling did have its rigors, but Idani thought she was well past feeling their strain the following day. Yesterday was hardly anything difficult. Today will be better, regardless. I have Oakheim ahead of me, and a lot of planni-

Her thought was interrupted, the door opening and the barkeep lady stepping in with a tray that Idani eyed with reserved longing and a holler that would have easily set her to skittering were she still in the grips of slumber.

“Rise and shine!” The woman stage-whispered, “I fetch’d ya sim fud.”

A broad, broken smile upon her face, the woman swept in with a pewter tray, filled with plates of sizzling bacon and plump sausages, a loaf of bread still steaming from the oven, cheeses various, oats, dried fruits, fresh fruits, fruit syrups and jams, churned butter in a little ceramic pot, a pitcher of iced water, a pitcher of warm, clove-spiced mead, and a tiny metal cup of a thick brown liquid that steamed the most.

“Ach,” she pressed her ring into the small of her back, massaging it, “That bed be doin’ nuffin fer me old back.” The she shrugged her shoulders and huffed.

“Eat ap!” the woman chortled, sitting at the foot of the bed and setting the tray next to her, “Got a lut fer yer to hear, ‘fore yooz be settin’ af.”

Idani waited, patiently, until the woman had rubbed the knot from her back and taken a seat; the tray properly sat and permission given. She didn't think much about what she grabbed, but she began eating. Voracity was not usually in her nature; or, at least she liked people to think it absent. It was bacon, first, followed by a sausage.

"Again," she said through half-chewed bits of breakfast, "you have my thanks. I hadn't expected food, as well as board." Idani gave a smile, after she had properly swallowed, and allowed herself a moment of restraint. Instead of continuing to gorge, she took up a piece of fruit and nibbled at it. "What sort of things, if I may inquire?" That had her curiosity, to be certain; forestalling the urgency she felt at thoughts of Oakheim. By the time I arrive, it should be well near the middle of the day. I suppose a few minutes couldn't hurt. I owe it to her, after all.

“Oh, jus’ an ickle gift, a lucky charm, cud say,” She drew a small brooch from her skirt pocket, a rose flower of opalescent ivory, with two emerald leaves by the clasp. It would be slightly like soap, or carved jade, had Idani touched that before. “I fink et neds tah see the road again, been locked away so long an’ all.” She handed it over. “Et kept me safe all them years, mebbe et’ll be the same fer yerself, I hope. I see a lotta meself in yer, troof be tol’. Wear it proud.”

Idani eyed the brooch with interest. She wasn't used to having nice things simply handed to her, at least not over the last six years. Her eyes might have widened, her control slipping for a moment. The kindly Miss spoke, and despite the Drasilian's girl fixation on the twinkling emeralds and lovely ivory; she listened to every word. "I will do what I can to ensure its travels are as safe as my own, dear lady." It was put gently into her hand, bringing a smile to Idani's face that could melt the ice from a snow troll's eyebrows. "And I hope it keeps me safe, as well," her heart strings had been adequately tugged on, and Idani couldn't help but want to embrace the old world-worn woman. She took another sausage and plopped it into her mouth, savoring the slight pop of the taut skin and the juice and grease beneath. "I..." she wasn't the type to trail off, but Idani was searching hard for the words.

"I think you and I are much alike, Miss. I hope, one day, that I can stop back by one day." It was a strange truth. Despite her only spending a few restless hours on the floor, Idani had felt true kindness from the matron of The Traveler's Respite; an unspoken kinship, beyond what they had acknowledged in common. "When I do, you will be hard pressed to keep me from begging to stay!" She gave a hearty laugh, at that; a musical sound, many had said, through her years.

“More than you realise, I think,” then the woman cleared her throat, and swallowed a smile, “Right, next bit, important, sah you listen, ‘ere. A Magi and her Watcher are likely heading to Oakheim, stopped in las’ night. Might be able tah meet them on the road - mebbe even travel pass Oakheim with ‘em, wherever your business tek yah.”

A Magi and her Watcher, though? An interesting prospect. Mayhaps they will be interested in this book. As the thought crossed her mind, something railed against it. Strangely, she reconsidered. Maybe it's not for them. After all, I found it. Doubt a wandering Magi has as much coin as I want, anyway. Either way, protection on the road is always a bonus. I'll have to seek them out.

"I'll do just that. Thank you! I will be certain to find them, along the way," she took a deep sigh, one not entirely feigned, "I'm going to miss you, Miss. The brief time we spent together has been unexpected and not unwelcome." Idani Umbele adjusted her satchel, taking another small bite of fruit before turning. "I will not be forgetting you, any time soon. I hope you will let me sing for you, when next I pass through!"

* * * * * * *

It might be interesting to note that at some time between the woman leaving Idani alone, and then returning to her with breakfast, Aleora and Karl had left the inn and set upon the road to Oakheim.

Aleora’s head hung as she road, he brow ever so faintly furrowed, and for all her grace, something seemed to be sapping her usual poise.

Karl sensed this, upon returning from scouting ahead, “Reshi, what is the matter?” Morning mist had left dew on her beard.

She sighed, and looked up at Karl, a smile lapping at the shores of her cheeks, thawing her icy façade, “The dreams, Karl, I am afraid of what they foretell, when I find them.”

“All the stars are sucked from the sky, trailing coils shape into a hand that reaches for a candle flame and snuffs it out. Then there is nothing – an empty sky and total darkness. Afterimages of an incandescent hand dancing across the blindness. Then I am elsewhere, and I see men of bones and rotten flesh, dressed in rags and ancient fashion, dancing, or fighting, and one, with a crown, it approaches a robed figure, and gives it something, or perhaps steals, I could never get close enough – when I try, they would vanish, and a door would appear. If I opened it, inside golems are standing amongst great swelling dunes, sand continually falling, never stopping, burying them. The door always closes after that, except at this point it’s not a door, but a book, and it laughs, then vanishes too. And then…” She faltered, trailing off, or catching herself, “Then, then… I think that is all that is apt for you to know.”

He grunted.

“It is always the same Karl, never flinching –”

“You will figure it out,” gravel and thunder rolled from horseback, “You are one of the best Dreamers the Demense has had in centuries.”

Aleora smiled. I know what it means, Karl, I just hope I can change it.