Homecoming

Worked on 18.2. Changed the first sighting of Hearthstone, and added Sephonie’s store — 1h02m42s — 2023/10/27

Polished 18.1 — 36m45s — 2023/10/28

Polished the entire thing — 1h20m15s — 2023/10/29

Polished — 1h03m26s — 2023/12/28

Roustich wasn’t the only one to join the duke, the shaman, and the others; as they traveled from Excergie to Hearthstone. A couple joined them right outside the town, simply headed the same direction—but they weren’t even an hour from Excergie before others came looking specifically for Krumpus. More arrived soon after that looking for others among the cousins. Indeed, the Jindleyaks were well known in the area.

As the hours crept along and the sun arched overhead, more and more people joined the growing caravan. Some of these strangers only stayed for a few minutes, walking along for maybe half a mile or so before returning the other way. Some came out to trade information, while others brought physical wares to barter. A few came to entertain: dancing, singing, and giving grand speeches as they marched.

The caravan slowed from an easy walk to a meandering shuffle. The crowd swelled and receded several times, especially as they passed through the occasional village. More friends joined, and Baet was beginning to wonder how many were going all the way to the house of Azra Trandhill—which is what the Jindleyaks were calling their eventual destination.

Shortly after noon, Elpis turned the cart onto a lesser track and nearly half the crowd proceeded down the greater path as they kissed and waved their goodbyes. Baet rode next to Scurra as they turned. He pointed after the mob that continued down the main road and away from them. “Where do they go?” he asked.

“Hearthstone,” Scurra answered.

“I thought we were going to Hearthstone,” Baet wondered.

“We’re pretty close,” Scurra shrugged. “Stay on the main road and even at our pace, you’d make it before nightfall.”

“Then we’re almost to our destination?”

“Four or five miles?” Scurra shrugged. “A couple more hours.”

There were several watch-towers along the road, often hidden among the trees, wrapped in vines, and hard to see. Many of these towers were unoccupied—or seemed unoccupied. Those they did see in the towers either waved as they watched the slow progress of the throng, or came to the road so they might have a closer look at those that passed. They exchanged pleasantries and hugs with the various members of the crowd; and also gaped at the foreigners, especially the dark man. It was still an impressive mob that proceeded up the valley.

They passed under a large iron gate, quite massive and sturdy, and with a most unconventional fence attached to it. The fence was made of large trees, thick with constricting vines and thorny undergrowth to close the distance from one trunk to the next. Much of this vegetative wall was fruiting. Baet stared at the fence, impressed by both it’s ingenuity and beauty. It was quite the wonder to see such a practical structure crafted with living materials. The various trees, brush, and vines were so intertwined that he had an impossible time trying to figure where the first one stopped and the next one started. It all made for a formidable wall—especially since much of it presented thorns. There were roses, raspberries, and honey locust to name a few—though there also appeared to be small breaks in the fence that an individual might be able to slip through.

“Don’t fall for it,” Scurra said when she caught Baet staring into a nearby break. “Some of those are secret ways through, yes, but most are dead ends, or trapped.”

“Trapped?!” Wenifas said. “Why would you do such a thing?”

“They aren’t lethal,” Scurra began. “Just embarrassing. I’d bet its once a week that someone gets tied in some crafty knot by one of the trap-setters. It happens a fair bit to the younger ones,” she shrugged. “of course, some get caught on purpose, just so they can work on ways of getting out—but even then, you have to be smarter than the knotter.”

Baet continued to stare into the trees. “I’m not so worried about the sneaky paths or the traps set between them as I am about the ones that are following us while still hiding in the trees.”

“So you noticed?” Scurra stared at the Soat guard.

"Sneaking is in my blood,” Baet answered. “How many more are out there, watching us?”

“Maybe a couple dozen?” Scurra shrugged. “There’s always a few playing wargames in the trees, so even when you’re playing with them, you never quite know how many others are about.”

“Let me guess,” Baet said. “More cousins?”

Scurra answered with her own question. “How’d you catch ‘em?”

“Your leathery brother. He did this,” Baet waved his hand and wiggled his fingers just so. “It’s pretty subtle, but I used a similar signal a few times in Rottershelm. We used it to ward each other away, to say things aren’t safe,” he explained. “Gave me a bit of start to see your brother do that,” he admitted. “Then I had to find who he was signaling, and catch my surprise when I realize he’s making gestures at folk in the trees,” he said. “So what does it mean, this sign?” he asked as he repeated the gesture.

“In Tallian Hand it means quit sneaking around and show yourself,” Scurra told him. “Some of them might, but the bulk will probably let us pass and pick up the old game right where they left it.”

Baet repeated the gesture. “Tallian Hand,” he said. “Sounds established.”

“Came from ancient Tallia,” Scurra replied. “Said to be a thousand years old—though half the tribes don’t practice it all that much. What of your signals in Rottershelm? Who established your own silent language?”

Baet shook his head. “There’s no name for what we were doing—just hand signals—made up and agreed upon by a couple dozen sneaks, spies, thieves, and assassins. We shared it with a couple drunks, several gamblers, and no few ladies of the best sort—though their reputations might suggest otherwise. We had hundreds of signals, though it’s been such a time that I might not remember half of them,” he reminisced. “The local watch called it sewer sign.”

Scurra snorted at that. “Sounds like they didn’t like it.”

“It was tradition to make up meanings for the watch, so they never had the right way about the signals,” Baet continued. “Of course, not everyone could keep the lies straight, and so the truth got muddled. There was plenty of disagreement even among some of the more polished practitioners about what meant what. It was best not to trust it unless one had prior conversations about the signals to be used, and just what they meant,” he finished with a shrug.

Beyond the verdant fence, the valley thinned and spread as it gently twisted east and north. A small stream drifted back and forth across the valley, crossed by sturdy bridges. There were several places where the stream spread into pools. Some were occupied. Footpaths forked from the road and cut through fields of thick vegetation. The trees were neat and often formed in curious patterns. There were long, elaborate beds of greens and spices at the edge of the stream, which was also crowded with cottonwoods, sycamores, willows, and a dozen other variety of trees. Many were productive. He recognized apple, peach, walnut—but most of the fruits were strange to him. Indeed there were many others that the guard could not identify, although the fruit often looked and smelled appetizing. Indeed, several proved quite tasty, as he was encouraged to take samples.

“Not that one,” Scurra cautioned. “That one is strictly for the birds. Here, try this instead.”

There were also grapes among these mixed groves, growing directly into the branches of the trees. There were blackberries ten feet up, cropped over the sides of several small cottages, climbing the legs of the watch-towers, and also among the pillars of a large and finely detailed gazebo, with many intricate and artistic flourishes about the building.

There were other outbuildings that speckled the valley; cottages, sheds, barns, and smaller homes. As they continued up the road, the ridgelines slowly closed in around them; two knuckles of a slow rising mountain. Sometimes in the large fields, Baet would see horses, cattle, goats, sheep, maybe pigs—none of it was too surprising until he noted a number of massive auroch strolling among some trees and staying out of the midday heat. The incredible beasts paid the newcomers little mind as they chewed their cud, and lounged in the shade.

It wasn’t just animals. There were people aplenty in the valley. Hands in the field paused in their duties to stare at the new arrivals. Many quit their harvesting so they might join the crowd. There were a number of little ones that rushed among the walking horses. They had all sorts of questions to ask—even among the strangers. Several showed off objects they had made or decorated.

One young boy had just caught a snake of a benign and casual manner, a beast that did not mind being caught, or even being passed among the men; all of whom were quite appreciative to see the beast and treated it with a gentle respect. As Aim held the snake, he gave veiled hints to the boys concerning the snake they managed to catch, though he coyly evaded any further investigation.

The adults also had questions for the visitors—though all were asked in a friendly manner. Some of them asked of the strangers directly, and they all found themselves genially introduced.

A good number of the locals were shocked to see Krumpus visibly scarred, both hands and face. Many were keen to hide their surprise, and a few acted as if nothing had changed, though others addressed him directly. The shaman poked back at some of the interrogators, asking after their own injuries and scars. Still, it was done in a congenial and jocular manner with no real malice. Indeed, there were many smiles and nods, and also a good amount of laugher—especially since none of them were all that much worse for the wear.

Trailing a mob of locals, the party finally arrived at a collection of buildings a couple miles above the gated entrance. At the center was the main house, built of stone and sporting a spire five stories high. Although it was all said to be one man’s estate, there were so many outbuildings and cottages that it appeared to be something of a village.

A steward stepped from the mansion with a dozen or so helpers. He hugged his cousins, turned to Paye specifically, and said, “Your grandfather will be delighted you have returned. He has been quite pained by your absence.”

Paye blushed to hear it, but realized that since the steward felt obliged to say such a thing—well—it meant that it wasn’t altogether true.

The steward turned to the foreigners and smiled. “Welcome to the home of Azra Trandhill! He is most anxious to meet you and hopes you will join him out back for some light refreshments. However, since you have been some time on the road, we suspect you’d prefer to see your rooms and the bath house first.”

“Thank you,” Creigal said as he dismounted. He took his saddle bags and his sword, then gave his reigns to a valet, and followed the steward into a barrack house. Elpis, Andrus, Homoth, and Paye left them for the main house—but several of the Jindleyaks came with the foreigners, those that did not keep residence in the main house: Duboha, Aim, Krumpus, and Scurra. Each was given a key to a neat little room, with a bed and a desk. After they had put their stuff in the rooms, they were shown to the baths.

The baths were extravagant to the same degree that the bunk house was spartan. Some of the baths were outside, while others were housed in an elaborate structure on the bank of the river. The pools were all lined with tile and neat rock. Many of the tubs were heated. They varied in temperature from as cold as the river, to as hot as a man could stand. “These are nice,” Baet breathed as he settled into a smaller pool, warm and unoccupied. They didn’t stay nearly as long as he might of liked—but then—they were expected.

In the backyard, there was food and drink aplenty. The company was introduced to Azra Trandhill, a massive old man as thick as a tree. Despite his stature, the old bear grimaced and hobbled as he approached his granddaughter, so he might wrap her in a comforting hug. He held her hand for a time, and had several quick questions for her before he turned his full attention to the foreigners. Then he talked—and he talked a lot—but mostly to ask questions. He was quite curious to hear of the company’s myriad adventures.

As the adults talked, a number of children circulated among them with pointed observations and questions all their own. These interrogations were slowed by an assortment of cookies, cakes, fruits, punches, and such. The children laughed, poked each other, and played to the far reaches of the lawn—only to to return and pilfer another handful of sweets from the desert table. They’d ask another round of superficial questions to the newcomers while picking apart their pastries. Then, once the cakes were finished, they disappeared to the far corners of the yard, to rub the stickiness off their hands, onto the grass, or one another’s clothes. These young rapscallions were most curious about the dark man—but Carringten kept all but the bravest at bay with the slightest touch of a scowl—a maneuver that only added to his intrigue and mystique.

For a long time, Azra talked to Creigal of the duke’s quest, and also of his home. The Saot and the Trohl both spoke affably, though they did so in Ministrian—which intrigued Toar to no end. He found it fascinating that these two congenial gentlemen found peace while speaking the language of a common enemy. A consummate host, Azra pledged his house and plenty to the duke and his men. In return, Creigal assured that he would not stay long, and promised restitution. After a couple hours, Azra begged off, and left the duke to his leisure, so he might attend other responsibilities.

Slowly, the gathering broke up. Roustich took his horse and rode for the city proper with a description of Humbert, so anyone that had been in Land’s End might speak of his passing. Krumpus took Meu and Wenifas to meet his wife. She lived in the next valley, just a few miles from the main house. Scurra went with them. Toar went to explore—as Celesi stalked after him. Creigal retired to his room so he might write letters. Aim talked Duboha and Carringten into joining some of the locals for a game of touches. Baet was preparing to return to the baths, when Paye offered to escort him back to the barracks, as Homoth stalked in the distance.

“Do you like my grandfather’s house?” she asked as she led him through a twist of halls and common rooms.

“It’s very opulent,” Beat answered. “It’s quite at the center of Hearthstone—though I expected the town to be a bit bigger,” he shrugged.

Paye snickered. “Surely you must know that this is just my grandfather’s estate.”

“This is just a country house?!” Baet protested. “But it is practically a village!”

“It is all just a house, a home to perhaps a hundred of my family,” Paye shook her head. “Although it is a very nice house, and there is a smattering of smaller homes all about the estate, this is not a proper village, and we are a minor spur compared to the great city.”

“How far is it to the city proper?” Baet wondered.

“To the first wall?” Paye shrugged. “Well, go back to the main road, and then its at least another dozen miles,” she said. “The fort is still a day’s travel, especially if one gets distracted on the way. But the roads are twisting, and the eyes can travel much faster. Would you like to see the great city?”

“Of course,” Baet agreed. “I have few duties until we continue north. Perhaps we can go one of these next few days? I think the duke would quite like my opinion of the place.”

“Why wait? Lets take a look now!” Paye stepped into the road.

For a half a second, Baet balked, thinking the town was too far away—but not wanting to contradict the lady, he decided to follow instead.

They made their way down the road and passed several buildings, then stepped onto a footpath that cut east through a rich field. The path dodged among the trees, then began to switch right and left as it climbed the eastern ridge of the valley. They didn’t hike for long before they crested the ridge—maybe half an hour—and the view was well worth the effort! Several miles to the east, and just a touch south, was a tall flat mountain. Approaching the mountain was a number of estates similar to Azra’s, with long lines of trees and patchy green fields. The occasional great house sat surrounded by a slight crowd of outbuildings. Then, as one got closer to the foot of the mountain, the houses and towers crowded in upon each other and jostled for position as they girded the slopes. Finally, at the very top of the long flat of the mountain’s summit, was a fort with a series of watch towers capped with flags of every color that waved and snapped in the wind.

“So that’s Hearthstone,” Baet said with reverence. He was astounded to see it and realized it would take an unimaginable army to assail such a city—especially the fort at its summit! “I should think no one could ever capture it—unless they came out of the sky!”

Paye turned to him, curious that he should say such a thing. “You mean, like the leviathan?”

“Yeah, or the dragons,” Baet shook his head. “Its quite the sight!” he smiled, then turned and smoldered at the girl. “I must say it’s the second prettiest thing I’ve seen all day!”

“Ugh!” Paye groaned as she turned away and started back down the path. “Is that how you get women in the south?! By comparing them to cities?!”

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 18.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Krumpus asked Meu and Wenifas to go meet his wife, Sephonie, who lived just over the eastern ridge. He also roped his sister into going, though she seemed reluctant. “I suppose I must,” Scurra acquiesced, then trudged after the others with a sigh.

“Is it far?” Wenifas wondered. “Shall we take horses?” she asked, not really wanting to walk beyond the numerous outbuildings around the mansion.

“Not far enough to bother with horses,” Scurra said.

Krumpus stared at the priestess and asked with his eyes. Maybe just long enough? he asked.

“Nah,” Scurra answered without hearing the question. “The trail sucks. You wouldn’t want to take a horse. If you need to, we can try with one of the donkeys. Either way, let’s get this over with.”

Wenifas noticed reticence in the shaman’s gaze, but didn’t want to address it with him. Instead, she went to the sister, since Scurra seemed openly critical of the task at hand, only going along out of a sense of obligation. The priestess leaned close to the archer and whispered, “Is this wife of his really so bad?”

Normally, the priestess wasn’t quite so forward, but Meu had given her a kiss, honeyed with venom, so she had the wyrm’s alacrity to bolster her courage. She also had the wyrm in her head, and since Meu was quite excited to go, the skin-walker rebuked her friend.

Scurra pointed at her brother. “When he’s around she’s not nearly so bad, but when I have to visit without him—” she trailed off with a shrug, not wanting to say bad things about the mother of her nieces.

The path up the ridge was thin and twisting enough that Wenifas preferred to be on her feet rather than the back of some beast—but it steep enough that she found herself panting like a horse. Thankfully, they all took turns carrying Evereste—once the child tired of her own feet—which was nice for the winded priestess. She wasn’t used to such heights. She was born by the sea, and had always hoped that she might stay near the beaches—but circumstance had inevitably led her to climb ever higher in this strange world. She paused to take in the view and wondered that the distant ridgelines all looked like the waves of the Hebron Straits caught in stone.

As they hiked, Krumpus stopped several times, so he might gather his breath. At first Wenifas thought he too was getting winded, but after the third of fourth time, she realized he was stopping only on her behalf, and simply pretended to be tired. She was thankful to have the pauses without having to complain for them, but chagrined that he had noticed. Then, after a couple more pauses, Wenifas realized that Krumpus wasn’t breaking for her at all. He was using her as a pretense! She was just an excuse to stall! That intrigued and worried her all the more. Something was wrong, and for whatever reason, it was not to be addressed directly.

At the top of the ridge, Meu caught sight of something and paused in awe. A pleasant smile crept across her face as she stared on in shock. Krumpus and Scurra watched her expression and smiled at her stricken face. “Pretty neat, isn’t it?” Scurra nodded.

“What is it?” Wenifas asked, puzzled by her friend’s reaction.

Hearthstone! The skin-walker said in her mind.

“Hearthstone?” Wenifas crested the ridge and peeked between the trees, more and more intrigued by what she saw. “Naharahna, lift me from the pits!” she cried as she caught sight of the city proper. What a sight it was! There was a massive fort at the very top of a mountain, with banners and flags whipping in the wind, and large buildings all about the sides! Indeed, it seemed the entire mountain was covered with dwellings! Only a number of sheer massive cliffs cut natural edges in the human works—but even the cliffs were dotted with mines, quarries, and lined with ropes! It was like nothing she had ever seen!

Still, there were several more miles to the base of the mountain, and Wenifas was not interested in going so far. “Tell me this cottage is a bit closer than all that!?” She said, suddenly worried that the hike was going to take the rest of the day.

Scurra chuckled then pointed toward the wooded base of the ridge. “Sephonie has her store just down the other side of this ridge.”

Wenifas blinked. “Down in the middle of the wilds?” she wondered, since she couldn’t see nor hear anything that might hint at a human settlement below.

Going down was much easier, though they still paused several times—only now it was, “to take in the view”. Once they reached the base, it wasn’t long before they glimpsed a simple building with a hefty door and a few small windows. “Is that it?” the priestess pointed between the trees.

“Non,” Scurra answered. “That’s just the store.”

“Curious,” Wenifas began. “Why would anyone build a store way out here?”

“Because it’s at a crossroads,” Scurra began. “That way goes down to the main road, and the opposite forks up onto this mountain. Go straight ahead and you will eventually get to the city,” she pointed. “And back over that ridge are several hundred of my closer cousins. Besides, Sephonie likes the quiet—and there’s plenty of that! No neighbors for almost a mile in any direction!” she smiled. “Come, come! You must see her wares!”

Indeed, the store was filled with a remarkable collection of food, camping supplies, and small comforts. “Oh my goodness! She has just about anything in here!”

Scurra gave an enthusiastic nod. “She makes some of it, like these tinctures. That dark wild honey comes from her hives. She also does some of the leatherwork, though the leather comes from a tanner that lives in my uncle’s valley.”

“And where does the rest of this come from?”

“Mostly from people that bring it to trade,” Scurra explained, then leaned in close. “A fair portion of what she trades is gossip.”

Wenifas blinked.

“She would call it news, of course, but there’s nothing that’s been said to that woman that she doesn’t remember,” Scurra shook her head. “And she’s got a mouth like few you’ve ever met.”

“How interesting, to have such a fabulous store, and to be so remote,” Wenifas said diplomatically, then wondered what it must be like to live so far from everything and still be known as a gossip. She’d always lived crammed amongst so many others, and valued her privacy so much so that only her best friends ever shared her inner most thoughts, like Delonias.

“Remote!” Scurra chuckled. “Remote is that way for three days, halfway to Gopi lands, sandwiched between the Untu Highlands and the Knife’s Edge, which is that ridge that overlooks the great lake before you climb the pass to Excergie.”

“The leviathan’s lake?” Wenifas asked with reverence.

Scurra gave an affirming nod. “I’d wager a king’s ransom that’s where the beast kicked up those dragons,” she frowned. “Thankfully, they don’t bother us much.”

Shortly after leaving the store, they found the main house, which was rather grand, even opulent, though seeming quite modest compared to Azra’s mansion. The priestess noticed that the nervous air of the shaman had increased. The sister was also stiff. Once again, she turned to the skin-walker and thought, this is not a proper homecoming.

Indeed, the only one that was oblivious to the strangeness of the visit was Evereste, as she sauntered among the bushes at the edge of the path. She smiled and blew bubbles at the tiny fairies that danced among the flowers and drank nectar in the evening glow.

With a gulp, Krumpus mounted the covered porch and reached for the door. He gave the others an awkward grin, then knocked.

For several seconds he waited.

He was about to knock again, when the door flung open, and a short squat lady appeared, squawked some question about the number of strangers at her door, then noticed Krumpus—as he stood beaming at her like an fool.

For a long second, the woman gaped. She turned bright red, then threw open the door and flew at Krumpus with a maniacal shriek. She collided with the shaman, drove him back into the tall grass, and slapped at the little man as he rolled into a ball.

Wenifas and Meu moved to intercede, but Scurra lifted a hand and shook her head. “For your own sake, don’t get involved,” she advised.

Meu stared, and replied that she would protect her friend.

“Leave it be,” Scurra continued. “She won’t do any real damage,” she claimed.

How can you be so sure? the skin-walker persisted.

“She’s been fighting my brother for over a decade, and although they get a little rough, to pull something cheap would be be risking the coin he sends—and despite her complaints, she rather likes her fine house,” she said of the cabin.

“What about the store?” Wenifas wondered.

Scurra turned to her with a weird questioning smirk. “You think she makes much money out here? In the middle of nowhere?” she shook her head. “Trust me. Stay out of it.”

Wenifas took a second look at the dwelling. The structure was strong and wide, with two stories, and all sorts of intricacies. There was a solid fence about it, with a varied and pleasant garden. She turned back to the shaman. The fighting continued, and the screeching and cursing with it. “What shall we do?” she asked, as she stared after her beleaguered friend.

“Let it play out,” Scurra said. “She’s not much of a physical fighter anyway.”

“Did you say it’s worse when he’s not around?” Wenifas asked.

“Well, worse for me,” Scurra shrugged. “Still, she don’t dare hit me, because I’d hit her back. She made that mistake a time or two. Still, she can be rather shrill, and I’d rather not listen to her berating my sweet brother in his absence.”

The fighting continued. Krumpus squawked and cried as he struggled against Sephonie. Yet, Sephonie wasn’t all that big. The shaman was stronger and wrestled well. After a minute of suffering her hollow blows, he had the upper hand—until a child barely old enough to run, flopped through the door of the cabin and flailed down the steps. With an awkward jaunt, the tyke finally reached the shaman’s leg, then shrieked with the fury of a banshee, and sunk her teeth into the healer’s calf muscle.

A gurgling scream erupted from Krumpus as he turned his attention to the pint-sized attacker.

Another girl burst from the cabin, this one much older and larger than the first. Unlike the tyke, this one recognized her father immediately. “Pa!” she cried, then scolded her sister, and pulled biter from his leg. “Aspen, you git them chompers for your own daddy’s flesh!” the older girl scolded—as Krumpus howled at the savage wound inflected by his youngest.

The little tow-head biter turned on her older sister with wide eyes, then stared back at the man wrestling her mother. “Pa?” She blinked—then kicked and tried to free herself of her sister. “Pa!” she yelled and grabbed for him.

There was a bright smile on the shaman’s face as he stared back at the wild child. He lifted his arms so he might take the tyke from her sister—but given an opening, Sephonie grabbed Krumpus in a headlock and forced him back into the dirt.

Now both children begged their mother to stop—but the pleas fell on deaf ears as Sephonie continued to assault her husband. Suddenly, she paused in her cursing, and stared at his brittle hands. “What in the sweet name of Jeiju happened to you?!” She asked—then took several more potshots at the man—though they were no longer aimed at his soft spots.

“Sephonie…” Scurra reached for the woman.

“Don't you ‘Sephonie’ me!” she turned and glared at the sister. “He deserves this abuse and you know it!” she screeched.

“And you!” the vindictive little woman turned on Meu. “Are you the one he’s sleeping with?!” The small round woman glared daggers at the svelte redhead, as the older woman backed several steps. “You have the smell of a real man upon you,” she accused.

Meu backed another step.

Sephonie turned on Wenifas next and looked like she’d have at her too—but after one aggressive step, she recoiled from the priestess with wide eyes. “You may have the curse upon you,” she began, “but not by my man!”

“The curse?” Wenifas wondered.

Then Sephonie’s eyes fell upon Evereste—and the child gave the lady a brilliant smile accompanied by an energetic squeal of delight. Sephonie lit up with pleasure. “Oh, what a precious treasure!” she said, and scratched at the girl’s cheek. As the rotund woman made this introduction, Krumpus made the mistake of setting a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned on him in an instant and started the swinging again. “Who are these people, and why do you only consort with women?!” she shrieked. “Even the baby is female!”

“Sephonie!” Scurra shouted.

“Oh, leave off!” Sephonie said. “You can see he’s not even fighting back! He knows he deserves this!” She drove a nail under his collarbone and slapped his face—though there wasn’t much force behind either assault.

“SEPHONIE!” Scurra stepped in. “Our new friends must think us savages with this wild display! Are you not embarrassed?!” she scolded.

“Well, he should introduce them to someone that wants to meet them,” she said as she glared at the strangers once more—though her eyes softened as she smiled at the babe. With a snort, Sephonie reached down, grabbed Krumpus by the shirt, then dragged him back to the cottage. She pulled open the door, and led him inside, as she continued to lecture the entire time.

Shaking his head and giving a shrug, Krumpus limped after Sephonie, as he allowed her to pull him inside. The older child and her little sister followed and let themselves in.

Scurra shook her head. “I feared it might be such a display.”

“Maybe we should go…” Wenifas pointed back up the ridge, toward the manse of Arza Trandhill. ‘If we go now, we can get back before dark.”

Scurra shook her head. “Though I should have expected as much, I’d hoped she’d restrain herself in front of company.” She rolled her eyes as she pointed to the house with her thumb. “Still, the worst of it is over. Given a few more minutes, she might be downright civil.”

Why does he return to such a woman? Meu asked.

“My brother has always attracted the difficult sort. I just wish I didn’t get dragged into it too,” Scurra sighed. “But the ruckus only lasts so long—and likely as not they’ll attempt to give me another niece—before my brother wonders off with dreams of saving the world,” she rolled her eyes, then turned to the quiet house. “See?” she smirked. ”Listen.”

The three cocked their ears—though there was nothing to hear. Scurra put a finger to her lips, then tiptoed to the door, followed closely by Wenifas and Meu. They peaked inside. Sure enough, there was Krumpus and Sephonie, snogging, as their two children snickered.

Sephonie caught sight of the three intruders. She pulled away from Krumpus and rushed at the door. “Can’t a lady have a little privacy in her own house?!” she snapped. She turned on her children as they beamed at their reconciling parents. “Go see to the entertainment of our guests! Show them the berry patches, or the duck pond, or… something,” she carried off as she beamed at Krumpus. “Just—give us an hour!”

The two girls turned, smiled at their aunt, and rushed out the door—which closed with a bang. “Well then,” Scurra stopped the two girls. “Let us introduce you properly. This is Willow Yockupp,” she said of the older child.

“I’m Aspen!” the little one volunteered, before Scurra could finish her obligation.

“Yes,” Scurra smiled as she ruffled the girl’s hair. “This is Aspen.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the priestess smiled. “I’m Wenifas, this is Meu, and the little one is Evereste.”

Hearing her name, the babe squealed and raised her arms.

“Oh, she’s sweet!” Willow said, then put out her hands. “Can I hold her?”

The priestess gave a nod, then smiled as the older girl cuddled the babe close to her face. “Look at you, you little dumpling!” she beamed, then blew a raspberry on her cheek—which brought ecstatic peels of laughter from the babe.

Wenifas turned to find Aspen staring at her. The tyke leaned over to her aunt and whispered something.

Scurra smiled, and said, “Yes she is,” to the little girl. She winked at the priestess, then gave Aspen a soft swat on her butt. “Now be a good girl and show us to the strawberries.”

“What did she say?” Wenifas asked as the child skipped and giggled into the garden.

“She says you’re very pretty,” Scurra whispered—so the youngling wouldn’t hear her revealing secrets.

Wenifas blushed. She followed the trundling child, and realized she was quite happy to meet the shaman’s family—as eccentric as they were.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 18.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Toar wanted to be alone. No. Toar needed to be alone.

Jindleyak lands were nothing like he’d ever seen before, rich and prosperous. The people were numerous, humble, and so very friendly. They were the type of people one wants to be around. Indeed, they were the type of people one wants to be.

Which was all quite bothersome to the somber wanderer. Their prosperity highlighted his lack. He wondered how he could possibly live among them, and hoped the duke moved on quickly—so he might go too. This was no place for a miserable, dejected castaway, he thought. He needed to be upon his search once more.

Toar wandered the estate and found a hay shed where several goats and sheep made their beds. Back among the winter’s hay, he found several kittens, smart enough to be timid, but too new to the world to be out and out suspicious. Their mother was not around, and since he moved slow, the kittens warmed to him and allowed themselves to be scratched.

Despite wanting to be alone, Celesi was behind him. He didn’t know it until he heard her voice catch, right before she exclaimed, “Oh! Look at the babies!”

Toar turned and scowled, though the young lady ignored this sour act. For some reason, she never thought he was scowling at her, that the scowl was somehow for the rest of the world, even though he showed it to her plenty when they were alone.

“Oh, aren’t they precious?!” she beamed as she crawled into the hay, and tempted the kittens with soft hands. “You sweet babies!”

Several of the critters scampered off and hid, though a few figured the new intruder was just as good as the last. “Meowr?” they questioned, as she slowly approached.

Celesi glowed as she gathered a kitten in her hands and scratched behind its ears. The tiny creature grabbed at a finger and gnawed it with sharp, but wholly insufficient, teeth.

“You miserable beast!” she laughed as she tickled its belly. “Oh, Toar!” she smiled with excitement and longing in her voice. “Isn’t this place perfect?!”

He shrugged and refused to face her. “A little too perfect,” he grumbled.

Celesi tsked. “Don’t be such a sour puss,” she reprimanded. “Its unbecoming.”

Feeling irritated and frank, Toar turned to Celesi and glowered. “What do you want?!” he snapped.

With a snort, she stared at him, suddenly serious. “Are you really so thick?” she asked and continued to stare for several long seconds. “You,” she finally blinked and smiled. “I want you, you dummy,” and with that, she leaned forward and tried to kiss him.

Toar veered away, and crashed back in the hay—so he might avoid her lips—as kittens scampered out from under his falling form.

Celesi pulled up short, one hand on her hip, the other stretched out to Toar—that he might take it, and thereby apologize for hurting her feelings. “Really?” she began. “Does my affection displease you so?”

Toar stared back at her. “You don’t know what you’re asking,” he replied.

“Of course I know,” she answered, her hand upon his knee as she stared back at the petulant guide. “I ask that you love me.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Toar repeated, tears swelling in his eyes, as he lay, frozen beneath her touch.

“I’ve spent the last several years groomed for the sexual pleasure of my enemies,” Celesi stared back. “Although I’ve never known a lover’s touch, I’ve more exposure than I care for,” she settled several errant strands behind her ear. “I realize that a meaningful love must be difficult at times,” she continued. “I know that it will require us both to be at our best, but I am happy to devote myself to such work—to you,” she said as she climbed over and pressed herself upon him. “Don’t resist,” she urged and kissed his lips. “I win, you win. What’s not to like?”

“Celesi…,” he protested with tears thick in his eyes.

She couldn’t imagine why. Was she not young and becoming? She was certainly eager! What sort of a man would push her away? She wondered if perhaps she was not nearly as pretty as she hoped, as so many had proffered, including the duke. Were they simply being nice?

But she could not believe that! Not since Meriona had taken her in. Meriona was too cold and calculating, and had often made comments about her unusual beauty.

Yet, Toar did not find her enticing—and that was all that mattered.

“Please,” Celesi begged him. “Please love me,” she breathed and pressed herself against him, in hopes that his desire might swell. They were alone and she loved him so. If he wanted, she would have him now. She knew what she was asking—of the dangers it entailed. Indeed, she hoped he might put a child inside her, and then become the father that such a beautiful baby deserved. She kissed his lips.

Toar stared back at her, frightened and almost out of his wits. As she pressed upon him, he did not even pucker.

She could tell there was no interest as she pressed her hips into his. She could feel his frame beneath her, but all she felt was his agitation. Something was off. Why was he so full of tears? She pulled away. “What am I missing?” she asked, suddenly suspicious.

“I can’t!” Toar exclaimed. “I can’t be that man!” he snapped at her.

It seemed an accusation.

Something obvious and terrible was escaping Celesi, something that her mind wasn’t willing to admit, and she began to wonder if she really wanted to know…

…still, she pressed. “I don’t understand,” she replied, shaken, suddenly feeling like she’d betrayed and injured him. Why was he so mad at her—and why did she feel like she deserved it?! She knew he was hiding something—and somehow she had discovered it—even though she had not yet managed to wrap her mind around it… “tell me,” she begged.

“I’ve never been whole!” Toar exclaimed. “One does not come up among a house of concubines fully intact! Not as a man!” He raged. “Would you see what I am missing?!” he snarled as his hands reached for his fly.

Aghast, she put her hands on his. “No,” she gasped. “No!”

Still beneath her, Toar turned his face. “This is a world of filth and savagery...” he turned away.

“How could they do such a thing?!” she said between her fingers, shocked by what he’d revealed. She shook here head, unwilling to believe it, her own tears rising in her eyes. “Why?!”

“Why do you think?!” he glared. “It they’d managed to sell you among the Baradha, do you think your new master would allow such a prize to wander among the man servants, bored and neglected?! No! Those men would not be men!”

Aghast, Celesi could make no reply.

Toar was a stone beneath her. He grabbed her by the wrists with a tight grip, hurting her. “You tell anyone,” he snarled, “you tell anyone and I’ll kill you.”

“I wouldn’t!” Celesi promised. “I could never…!” Her tears were so thick she could barely see. “I’m so sorry!” she pleaded and threw herself upon him once more. “I didn’t mean to pry! I’ve always thought the world of you!” she bawled. “I’ll always love you! You’re still man enough for me!”

“What’s the point?” Toar replied, once more cool and dispassionate. “I’ll never be the man you need. Not in all the ways you want.”

She wanted to say that wasn’t so, that sex wasn’t everything—and yet, she knew he was right. She couldn’t settle for a loveless existence. She wanted the touch of a man, the feel of an honest love. She needed to gift her lover with babies.

It was all too much. Celesi pulled herself up, and through a flood of tears, fled from the shed. She wasn’t surprised when Toar didn’t follow.

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