“Nia ferch Hayden ap Rhys,” Emlyn replies.
“You’re not from around here. Are you?” Thralia says with a knowing smile, “Not anywhere even close.”
“I’m not sure where here is exactly,” Emlyn shrugs, “in relation to where I’m from.”
Thralia laughs, “Oh, you are delightful. Abato thinks quite a lot of you, you know. Apparently so does Hrogarth. Any ideas on why?”
“Not really,” Emlyn shrugs, “I threatened to geld Abato for trying to sneak into my bath and I’ve only played cards with Hrogarth once.”
“Someone finally caught you skulking. And it was this slip of a girl? Oh, Abato,” Thralia grins, “I had expected better of you than that.”
“That slip of a girl, another of her cohort, and the scullery boy from the Temple kitchens took care of that nasty lot of bandits on the duke’s highway into Stonehaven. Since the other paladin and the scullery boy aren’t that capable…” Abato shrugs eloquently, “There’s more to her than meets the eye.”
“Hmm…” Thralia says, prowling around Emlyn again, “Then perhaps a closer look is in order.”
Reaching out quickly, Thralia takes Emlyn’s free hand, and her fingers slide inside Emlyn’s sleeve against her skin.
Thralia’s eyes go wide in shock. “What exactly are you?”
“Myself,” Emlyn shrugs, “What else would I be?”
Thralia releases her and laughs again, but is a bit shaken. “That Tigani seer that you’ve been looking for is likely hiding from her.” Thralia shakes her head. “I doubt you will listen to me, but I’ll say it anyway. Abato, do yourself a favor. Forget you ever laid eyes on this one. You call her incandescent. It is an… apt description. More than I think you realize. Like the white-hot heart of a star, yes, but the candle that burns the brightest also burns out the quickest. Both fate and the gods stalk her relentlessly. Death himself follows her like a handmaiden, gorging on the feast she provides.”
“Can you tell me anything about this Divaros?” Emlyn asks.
“Make sure when you face him, you have a pack full of food that’s well secured to you,” Thralia says, “That’s my best advice for you, and more than that, I cannot say. Even I am not allowed to interfere with fate.”
Turning to Abato, Thralia says, “Take her and go. Once this thing with Divaros is done, I might be willing to read for her again, but I might not. You are an interesting one, I’ll give Abato that much. Ask me again when the time comes.”
Without waiting for Emlyn to take her leave, Hrogarth pulls her toward the door. When Emlyn starts to say something, Hrogarth makes a gesture for silence. Emlyn swallows what she was about to say and lets Hrogarth lead her out of the strange house and away from its odd occupant.
Once again, Emlyn is ensconced between Atres and Hrogarth. Atres starts to ask a question, and Hrogarth gestures again for silence. Abato hands out the blindfolds and ensures that Emlyn, Atres, and Benger are blindfolded. He and his men do the same. The carriage rumbles along, taking a different route back to the duke’s palace than they took to reach the place, judging by the smells and noises. Once the carriage stops, Atres whips off his blindfold and removes Emlyn’s. Hrogarth opens the carriage door and gestures for silence with a glance toward the driver. Without any comment, Hrogarth tows Emlyn into the duke’s palace and into Abato’s basement lair.
Once inside Abato’s basement lair, Hrogarth relaxes visibly.
“I hate going there,” Hrogarth grumbles.
Atres grabs Emlyn and hugs her, pulling back to look at her, “Did she hurt you?”
“No,” Emlyn shakes her head, “It was much the same as it was with Vadoma. I think I unsettled her more than the other way around. She said something odd, though.”
“What was that?” Atres asks, “She told me to make sure I have a pack full of food that’s well secured to me when I face Divaros,” Emlyn frowns, “I’m not sure why that’s important, but that’s what she said.”
“That’s not quite all she had to say,” Abato shrugs and repeats the entire conversation almost verbatim.
“Gods above! She thinks it’s going to take you,” Atres grimaces, “I can’t think why else you’d need to have a pack full of food. We’ll load a pack with pemmican, smoked fish, and hardtack. If that happens, I will get you back.”
“Throw in a few slices of dwarven bread,” Emlyn nods. Atres starts to say something, then recalls Loket’s comment about sharpening it into a serviceable weapon, and smirks. “I’ll see what I can do to find some,” Atres agrees, “Let’s go get you some dinner. I’m betting Kethas made something nice. He certainly seems to like you.”
“First Hrogarth and now Kethas,” Abato shakes his head, “Your group of admirers just keeps growing.”
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“I’ll let you know if her advice proves useful,” Emlyn shrugs, “She’s an odd one, to be sure. Let me know if you find Vadoma or any of the missing Tinker-Folk.”
“Her advice usually is,” Abato nods, “Almost as good as his premonitions, and usually easier to follow.”
“I’ll see that she does it,” Atres shrugs, “It seems an easy enough thing to do.”
“Just bring our lovely incandescent goddess back in one piece,” Abato frowns, “and it will have been well worth it.”
“My thanks for your time and assistance,” Emlyn says, bowing formally.
“Think nothing of it,” Abato grins, “I still owe you from that business at the inn. That has proven to be monumentally useful. That gives you quite a tab when it comes to asking for favors. Don’t worry, if I ever need assistance in smiting anything evil, I won’t hesitate to call on you.”
Emlyn bows to him formally again and leaves with Atres and Benger in tow. Ralbi watches the three retreating backs and shrugs once they’re out of sight.
“Going to forget you ever saw her?” Damranth grins at Abato.
“Ten to one he still tries to bed her,” Mendek grins back.
“Damn that Atres,” Abato shrugs, “I don’t know that she’d choose me even without him. At least I trust him to look after her.”
“Look on the bright side,” Ralbi says, shaking his head, “With that skirt chaser off the market, the rest of us might not have to work quite so hard.”
“Atres better be good to her,” Abato shrugs, “or I might have to swoop in and mend a broken heart.”
“You’re being awfully quiet, Hrogarth,” Damranth says, “What do you think?”
“I think she’s too good for either of you,” Hrogarth shrugs, “If she had any experience with men, she’d throw both of you over and find someone better.”
Abato arches a brow at Hrogarth, “Do tell…”
“She had a go with Kethas and his quarterstaff in the courtyard behind the inn. Held her own with him. Right up until her strength gave out, she’s still paying for those bandits,” Hrogarth says.
“She held her own with Argonath, too, in unarmed combat,” Abato says, “Let’s see if we can discover what this Divaros really is and perhaps give our incandescent goddess a bit of help. Damaranth, why don’t you take a ride out to that village and see what you can uncover?”
“How’d it go with the seer?” Gramin says, “Was she any help?”
“She seems to think that this thing is going to take me,” Emlyn shrugs, “She told me that all she can tell me is that I need to have a pack full of food that’s securely attached to me when I go to face this thing.”
“I might have an old avalanche pack stored away,” Kethas says thoughtfully, “If not, we might be able to find one in the market once the mountain villages come into trade. That should do the job.”
“As long as whatever I put in it isn’t too tasty,” Emlyn grins, “I don’t want to tempt it to taste test. Benger’s already said I should sit on a cracker with an olive on my head.”
“Aren’t you being a bit flippant about this?” Loket frowns.
“I can sit around, fret, weep, or worry myself silly,” Emlyn shrugs, “or I can try to laugh about it and enjoy the time I have. The seer seems to think it’s fated, and if I need food, it’s survivable,” Emlyn shrugs, “Atres thinks it’s survivable now. That means crafting some escape plans to get away from it. I think a visit to the Temple smithy is in order. We probably already have what I need in storage. If they can pack it up and have it ready for transport, the Goddess can bring it to me. If I can get away from it, we can figure out how to deal with it once I’m free. It might be that letting it take me is the only way to figure out what this thing really is. Just… whatever you do, if it takes me and gets more than thirty feet or so off the ground, don’t hurt it. I don’t want it to drop me or both of us to fall.”
“The archivists don’t seem to have found anything,” Atres shrugs, “I’m not sure if they will. I was looking forward to curling up with you and a bottle of wine while reading.”
“I’ll get you a copy of Phiceros’ Battle Formations or Drusus’ Terrain Management,” Emlyn offers, “You’ll need to read them anyway. That reminds me, I need to write up a list for Ember. Our library at the Temple needs some attention. I went through all the books we have on military theory, and nearly all of them are drivel. Benger needs a copy of Sejarah’s War and Politics.”
“Then let’s go book shopping,” Atres suggests, “Benger and I can carry whatever you find for us, or we can have your selections delivered to the Temple. The book sellers will be open for a while. Browsing them is a popular evening pastime. There’s one just up the street.”
Atres leads her a few shops away to a bookseller who tries to interest Emlyn in various romances, plays, and books of poetry. Popular selections for other young ladies her age, but Emlyn is far from typical. Frowning, Emlyn takes up the pencil from his counter and begins scratching out a list.
The proprietor looks it over and frowns back at Emlyn, “You want the first twenty volumes of Hermann’s Encyclopedia of War? There are only nineteen in the set. I’ve never even heard of Militaides’ Usage of Siege Engines, or Belasarius’s Counter Insurgency, or Yousef’s Cavalry Tactics. What are you playing at?”
“If you can’t help me,” Emlyn shrugs, “I’ll find another bookseller who can. I know that there are more than twenty volumes in the set because my grandfather made me read them. All twenty-three of them. Twice.”
The man starts to protest again, and Emlyn reaches for the list, “If you can’t get them…”
The man snatches the list away from her.
Sighing, Emlyn mumbles to herself for a moment, “I’ve given you a list of books because I need to train my Temple cohort. We have a lot of work to do over the coming year. Either get them or do not, as it suits you. If you aren’t going to get them, then give me the list so I can find a more comprehensive shop elsewhere. Just because you’ve never heard of them doesn’t mean that they don’t exist.”
Sighing, the proprietor hands over the list, “There’s only one seller here in Harito who stocks specialty military tomes. The shop is called The Wild Hunt on The King’s Processional Way. It’s about halfway up the hill to The Temple of All Gods, where the dukes are invested.”
“That’s not far,” Atres says, “We can walk.”
“Let’s go,” Benger shrugs, “I’m curious.”
Emlyn snatches her list, and they leave. A few streets over, and they’ve turned up the Processional Way. Walking up the hill, Benger spots the sign, “I think that’s it.” Emlyn shoves the door open, and instead of the usual tinkling shop bell, there’s a clanging clash of swords. Looking up, Emlyn sees a carved ship with a double prow and a big square sail. Shields run down the sides of the boat, and the miniature swords are suspended from the bottom.
“We might be in the right place,” Emlyn grins.
Stepping out of the back of the shop is a tall woman with sandy brown, sun-streaked hair, blue eyes, and a pleasant oval face marked by a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. The elaborately embroidered vest and skirt are layered over a plain white chemise and soft boots.
“Welcome to The Wild Hunt. I am Sildr. Let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”
“I do hope so,” Emlyn grins, “I have quite a list of books that I’m hunting, and I was told you might have them.
Emlyn hands over the list, and Sildr smiles, “I have some of these in stock, but I’ll have to talk to my suppliers about the rest. I think I can get them for you.”
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Current Count: 68 "Protective Lugging of Books" and 1 "Academic Smirk."
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Observation: "Atres is following her around like a giant, golden-eyed pack mule. He’s actually encouraging her to buy military tomes so they can 'curl up with a bottle of wine and dusty records'. He thinks he’s being romantic, but I know his game—he’s just trying to get her to stay in one place long enough to stare at her ears some more. He even took her to a shop called The Wild Hunt on the Processional Way. I’ll give him 2 points for knowing the good shops, but I’m docking 5 for not carrying a lute while he does it
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Official Entry: Purchase Order: 23 Volumes of Military Theory; Recipient: Paladin Nia.
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Boltir’s Correction: "ANNOTATED: 'Essential Reading for Anyone Not Wanting to Die in Chapter 300.' I’ve added a margin note to the first bookseller’s ledger: 'Knowledge is like a beard; if you stop at nineteen inches, you’ve missed the point.' I’ve also included a drawing of Nia hitting the shopkeeper with Volume 20 of Hermann’s. It’s a very heavy book. Accurate for the historical record."
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Current Jar Total: 520 coppers, a bookmark made of dragon-scale, and a very confused inkwell.
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Boltir’s Plea: "She’s training her cohort with Sejarah’s War and Politics! If she’s going to be a professor of pain, I want to be the one sharpening the pencils. Toss a coin in the jar, kin! I’m saving up for a 'Scroll of Instant Literacy' so I can read whatever she’s reading and finally have something to talk about besides my own fabulousness. Leave a review if you think Nia should make Atres write a ten-page essay on Siege Engine Usage before their next date!"
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