I look to the priest, already on his way to sainthood, if the hubbub around town is true, “I don’t call anyone friend, or haven’t, in my thirty or so years, well, forty I guess, though only thirty that I remember, and I wouldn’t exactly call you one, but you’re not a bad sort, Tiago.”
“Verdad?” When I nod, he smirks and continues, “Same to you then braddah, as the Southern Aasimovians like to say. As long as I’m never on the other end of that blade, and it’s always pointed in the right direction.”
I won’t correct Tiago on my gender as I’ve never decided what it is. Besides, saying braddah is like saying friend, cousin, or brother-in-arms. At least said by one of Tiago’s descent. It’s an affectation that denotes friendliness, camaraderie, or even respect. If it were spit with vitriol from the mouth of a youth in an imperial city, it would be another matter. Plus, Eights seems to trust and like Tiago. Tiago continues to scratch Eights’ skull absentmindedly as we converse.
I offhandedly, jokingly, ask a question I already know the answer to, “Let me guess, the right direction is away from innocents, and towards oppressors?”
Tiago’s accent pours out rich in his reply, “Si, verdad. You’ve got that right. I wouldn’t expect, ah, la palabra, feck. Ese no es concienzudo, ah que. Soy patetico. Los burros saben mas. Sorry. Ah, I wouldn’t expect scrupulous and assassin to be in a single title, but they seem to be in yours, and most of your kin.”
It’s funny when he insults himself in his native tongue, but he should probably work on that. He’s going to be a figurehead that the downtrodden look up to. I’ll try to remember to mention it to him later. For now I simply respond, “We can afford to be picky with our work, no one wants an entire village of assassins to come down on them. It’s odd to have such a cavalier conversation about it though. Even most clients prefer that we speak in sly tones when we meet. You’re an odd fellow for a town priest.”
Tiago chides in return, “I’m no more a priest than you are a ruthless bloodthirsty cold-hearted murderer. I bring spirituality and healing to the village, that’s all. What we do bears similarity to said titles, but that is all. Still, really, no friends. No romance, nothing?”
I puff my cheeks as I exhale, practically spitting air. That’s the way of life for the Hidden. It’s lonely, and dangerous, but good work. Thinking about it though, I’ve already told him, so I reiterate, “Before you, I don’t think I’ve ever stopped anywhere to speak to anyone. You happened to be in the path of my longest job yet, a few months is far longer than we generally dedicate to someone. I think I’m the only one that takes the longer and longer jobs that keep showing up. Someone wants long-term espionage that culminates in them moving up something like fifteen places in their household inheritance standing, and they can’t all be plucked at once. Though some can simply be discredited. Honestly, if I find evidence that the client is evil, well, more evil than hiring an assassin already, and that any of the other inheritors are less so, I might break the code.”
Tiago clucks his tongue while shaking his head, “Messy business my friend. I don’t envy you braddah. I don’t particularly like what it is you do, but like we’ve said about each other, you’re not a bad sort. I trust you to keep your abilities honed enough that you won’t even accidentally harm an innocent. Perhaps some magic could even help with that. Magic is returning to the world, and I intend to usher in its age peacefully around my village.”
I try to hide my scorn as I scoff, “If you say so. I’ve met some supposedly magical creatures. Just people living in the woods. They tried to teach magic to me. They must have tried a thousand times, and me a thousand more to learn, but all I learned were a few animal whispers. Nothing exactly magical about a whistle or a kind word to an animal’s ear.”
Tiago wheedles his beliefs towards me a bit more, “Maybe your lucky number was simply a thousand and one, and you gave up just shy of your goal? As to the animal whispering, you say there’s nothing magical to it, but if you could see the world the way I do, you’d know the truth of the matter.”
Shrugging, I turn away as I prepare for the next leg of my journey. I whistle for Eights who bounds quickly to my side. Grateful for the company while it lasted, I call as I’m walking away, “Maybe in my next life then. Perhaps I’ll be able to master magics one after another just by experiencing them, after learning the supposed truth of the matter. Even if a thousand, or a thousand and one ends up being my lucky number.”
Ugh, what hit me? Where? What was I doing? I try to sit up, but a firm arm keeps me laying, slightly propped up on something soft. Oh, it’s Teuila’s lap. That’s nice, this is nice. Teuila shushes me as I try to maneuver to hug and thank her. I can’t move my head very well, but as it lolls slightly to one side, I gaze about the store. I don’t spy Berinon anywhere. I raise an eyebrow as I’m about to ask, but Teuila seems prepared.
She answers before I can utter a word, “You were muttering something about Tiago, and bleeding a lot. Berinon took that as a cue to get the village healer, the one that we met, Tiago. He ordered us to stay here, but if you want to scram, I’ll take you wherever. I don’t ever want you to feel trapped, or backed into a corner. I, I. I know what you went through. Time and time again. No more. Never again.”
She clocks me once on the noggin, then sniffles, and rubs her nose on her forearm before continuing, “Got that, buttforbutts?”
I almost wish she’d stick with dingus or dork at this point, because laughing hurts, and I can’t help but laugh at butt for butts. Butt for brains, sure, I’d get that, but she goes to unheard of lengths to come up with new insults. Ever since, well. That time. The one she’s talking about. When I came back to her, she went through pretty much every insult in the book, and then some from other books in other languages, and then some! It was worth it though. To be back with her, having that quiet moment together. I smile dreamily at Teuila. She’s so precious to me.
The sound of hurried steps slapping cobblestone jolts me into alertness. I begin to panic, but Teuila shushes me, holding me close. Even still, I can feel her muscles tensed to spring into action if it’s anyone other than Berinon and Tiago.
I mumble, “If it’s not Tiago, let’s bolt.” Teuila nods in understanding, having already been prepared to do so.
Tiago bursts into the store first, and gazes over the two of us, exclaiming, “Es la verdad? You, pardon me, young wahine. Is that one really the same as the short one you were traveling with earlier?”
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Pft, I snort with laughter. I’m apparently that one, and the short one. Tiago was really in a rush earlier, so much so that he didn’t get our names, that’s so like him. Wait. How would I know what he’s like regularly? I furrow my brow as I try to figure out why I suddenly felt familiar with Tiago. Speaking of him, his hands check my forehead, my jugular, and wrists. He then checks the cracks in the flesh on my knuckles that are still seeping blood and light simultaneously.
“Que lastima. No, que horrible.” He exclaims, then looks apologetic as he continues, “Err, how do you feel? I’ve never seen the like.”
I stifle my laughter while responding, “You’ll not have, and probably never will again. I’m okay. There’s a source of power connected to me. Think of it like a barrel of ale that someone carbonated too hard or something. If I turn the valve on to let any of it out, it fights to come out with so much pressure my body can barely handle it. That’s the best analogy I can come up with for now. I don’t intend to be tapping into that power any more if I can help it. Things just looked rather hairy here for a minute.”
Berinon looks apologetic as he mops up some of the blood from the floor. He apparently abandons the task to a later date as he thinks of something else to do. He picks out a scarf, a hooded cloak, and several other things within the store.
The shopkeep calls quietly, questioningly, “Do you, ah, expect you’ll, well, become short again?”
Pft, I can’t help snorting with laughter, “Hah, um, yes, probably, maybe. I don’t know. Rayileklia makes it hard to use my magic.”
I can see Berinon nodding, edging between confusion and understanding as he rummages through the crate from earlier, the one containing clothes for, well--. I made an assumption that they were intended for a child that has passed on, by his intonation. He collects several objects and carefully places them in the large backpack that Teuila set aside to purchase. They will be handy if I shrink, one way or another.
Berinon grumbles, “I’ve, hm, had rather enough excitement for one day. You should likely go with our saint back to the apothecary. You’re paid up in full, take what you’ve chosen, if you think of more, please come back tomorrow at the earliest. Though, before you fainted, you were handing me these. May I keep them to study? They appear to be perfect duplicates, minus being made of some sort of flexible onyx.”
I nod, I was duplicating them for him, since he seemed to know something about their origin. Or at least he seemed to know about the origin of objects that look identical to them, from this world. He turns them over and over in his hands beneath the lamp light. He shakes his head vigorously, and tosses them into the crate from earlier. He sets the crate on the other side of the door to the back of the shop, and returns with the armload of things he’d been picking out a moment prior.
Berinon states, “These’ll be fitting you better for now, and, well, should compliment your companion’s ensemble. I’ve not had much cause for those with discerning fashion desires in quite some time. But, yes, anyway. I beg all of your pardons, but would you mind please putting these on then leaving my shop? I’ve apparently a speck of cleaning to do.”
Ah, yeah, cleaning up someone else’s blood would probably put anyone in a sour mood. I really wish I had asked Luni for the soap stone. I wonder if there are any wizards or enchanters or something on this world that could make one. Teuila helps me up, and starts to try to help me into the majority of the new clothing. I’ll change my breeches somewhere in private, later. No need to startle anyone else with yet another difference.
As Teuila helps me up, then tries to begin dressing me, I shoot her an incredulous look complimented by an eye roll. She grins and lets out that single elongated laugh of glee through a mostly closed-mouthed smile that so many of the Shellcrackers do. “Heeee.” I can’t help smiling when I hear it, as I see the glee painted across her face. What a wonderful person. She’s so, so, so many positive traits. I hope I tell her enough to make her feel loved.
Teuila, Tiago, and I head out of Berinon’s shop, quickly and quietly. Now that it’s going on sometime between afternoon and early evening, there’s less hustle and bustle on the city’s streets, but the town is still lively. Tiago ushers us inward, to the insides of a humble-fronted apothecary. The crackle of a lit fire in a fireplace is a soothing sound, as is the warm breeze that lightly blasts back the cool outside air as we step into Tiago’s home and shop.
Tiago notices the dagger at my hip for perhaps the first time as my new cloak flutters in the gust of warm air. He stops everything and gently plucks my cloak to lift the edge of it, to stare at the dagger. Somberly, speaking distinctly to avoid letting his accent muddy his intonation, he states, “The last I saw of this weapon, it was on the hip of a very old friend, one that was very out of sorts, asking about a not so secret temple. Perhaps a week ago. I’m imagining very bad things about you, please tell me I’m wrong.”
I quickly wave my hands forward, a sign there’s been a misunderstanding. I ramble, “Aces, they, we, I wasn’t. This isn’t Aces’ dagger, we, I mean sort of. Taylynn gave it to them, it was kind of a loan, but also kind of a gift, but then they both moved to the bed, or, well, it might have been after they were getting up after having spent the, err, yeah, it was definitely when they were getting dressed, because she asked for a clean shirt, she joked about servicing Aces equipment, err, I, um, and then, uh, you don’t need to know that part. Phew, I don’t need to know that part, yeesh, oy vey, is it getting hot in here?”
Tiago’s visage screws up as he tries to stifle laughter, his right hand’s fingers splayed to cover more of his mouth, while his right elbow rests on his left arm. He looks quite amused, and very willing to let me continue making a fool of myself as he pleads, “Do go on, quiero escuchar mas.”
Even Teuila snickers at how uncomfortable I look as I tug at my collar, while I literally steam with blush. Her salaciously raised brow only furthers the heat of my face evaporating the rain droplets that collected in my new scarf. Flippin’ ‘eck, why do people have such interest in one another’s, uh, bedtime proclivities. Crap on a cracker, I could really use a telepathic bond right about now for Lil, Lu, or Te, to save me from this embarrassment. I fan myself, flustered as I am.
I gulp, “They, um, glp, they were, uh, close, very close.” I pause to gasp a breath as I stutter, “In, in, intimately close.”
Tiago bites his lips for a long moment before replying, “I never knew, the sly old dog. Aces didn’t come into possession of that dagger until, gosh, it must have been the eighties. It’s always been a marvel to me that their age was basically the same as the year. That’s what you get, being born at the turn of the century I guess. Well, as far as we could guess. They never ended up being able to recall anything between double oh and eleven. If Aces was honest about the princessora and that dagger, and you’re honest about their relationship. Goodness. Aces certainly was active even going on a decade or two from a hundred years old. I suppose I’m one to talk, I’m now that old as well. How do you know so much about their relations though?”
I flush with embarrassment again, just when I thought I was off the hook, able to stop thinking about those dreams. As I’m trying to formulate a response, I feel the heat continue to rise to my pointed ear tips, worse with each syllable uttered. I respond very carefully, pausing, gulping down a large breath between each word to think out the next, nearly fainting between each one, “I. Sometimes. See. Glimpses. Of. Memories. While. Dreaming.”
Teuila loses it and bursts into laughter, doubling over and falling onto her side. Come on Te, it’s not that funny, heh. This is really embarrassing. Ugh, I wish you could still hear my thoughts. Tiago’s cheeks are puffed with barely contained laughter as he bites his own lips and doubles over to prevent himself from joining Teuila in rolling on the ground laughing.
Tiago permits himself one joke, “I know couples that would pay fortunes for a potion that gives one spouse or the other such dreams.”
I’m sure my expression becomes utterly mortified, because that’s how I feel. Can you die of embarrassment? If not, could I be the first? Please? Agh.