Chapter Twelve: The Exodus is Here

Marc awoke to the sound of rain on the roof. There was a nice clean but earthy smell and a cool yet humid feel to the air that you never get in the New Mexico desert. He looked around the small room, a small open window allowed him to look out at the trees behind the cabin. There were no glass panes, instead some wooden blinds could be lowered to close the room off. For now, he could see large mountains just beyond the trees surrounding the clearing. Some shelves along the walls held numerous items such as ropes, ceramic pots, what looked like gardening or farming implements, and a few wooden crates stacked against a wall. Hanging from hooks on the walls were other items, strange objects of metal, wood, or fabric, sometimes with handles, but apart from a few obvious bags or sacks, the utility of most of them was a mystery. Everything looked old, and a thin, uniform coating of dust disclosed that everything had been unused for a while, but the lack of rust said that they were not abandoned here.

He ventured into the main room and saw the hearth still had a small fire burning and he could feel the warmth beckoning him over. No one else was present, aside from the door he had just come out of, there was the door to the outside and one more, the bedroom of the woman most likely. He took a step towards that door, then thought about it for a moment and sat by the fireplace instead.

He had just sat down when the front door opened wide and the woman, Rynan, walked in from outside. She carried an armful of small plants and he noticed that she was completely dry despite the rain beating down on the roof. She looked at Marc and smiled, then walked over to the kitchen and set the bundle down.

“Good morning! You must have been very tired. You slept most of the morning away.” Rynan said as she brought a metal kettle over and placed it on a grill over the fire. “Shall we have some tea and chat?”

He found her voice pleasant and friendly, but at the same time so authoritative it was almost oppressive. He was reminded of his old elementary school principal, an ancient and robust woman who never raised her voice or showed the least bit of worry no matter what mischief the kids would get up to, but spoke with such power and confidence in her voice that no student, teacher or even parent ever dared to cross her. She had never even needed to say anything twice as long as he had been at that school.

Rynan was now sorting through some of the plants she had brought in. She pulled the leaves off of a few stalks until she had a couple of handfuls, then held them and pressed them down on the table while some mist eased out between her fingers. Marc moved over to the table and watched her closely. When she removed her hands, the once green leaves had turned a mustard-yellow color and shrunk noticeably in size. She placed the leaves into a small bowl, took a pestle, and started grinding the leaves up, small wisps of smoke rising out of the bowl as she worked. In just a few seconds, she stopped and poured a dusty powder from the bowl into a cloth bag and tied the end. Then she walked over to the now burbling kettle and brought it over to the table, placing it onto a large flat stone in the center. She dropped the bag into the kettle, then went to fetch a couple of wooden cups. Marc had been hypnotized by the whole process but snapped out of it as she spoke again.

“Grenn left earlier, he wanted to get back to the city to speak with the Guild Head.” She explained. Marc shook out of his daze and had to think for a second to process the statement and recognize who she was talking about. He felt a twinge of unease without his grumpy but kindly protector there. “Don’t worry, I am sure he will be back soon. He is just making arrangements for you to be able to enter the city. Besides, this will give us a chance to talk and get to know each other.” A chill ran down Marc’s spine. “Come, sit, and let’s have some tea.” She motioned to a chair, then cut off a few slices from the loaf of bread they had eaten with the stew the night before. Finally, she poured out two cups from the kettle and placed one in front of Marc, and then inhaled the aroma of her own and took a sip.

Marc slowly lifted the cup and eyed the dark liquid. He gave it a quick sniff and it didn’t have a particular odor that he could tell, so he took a cautious sip. While he was typically a coffee-over-tea kind of person, Marc mainly stuck to the instant stuff from the supermarket and the semi-caustic stuff they served for free in the kitchenette back at his old office. It would be fair to say he was not a connoisseur, but it didn’t take more than a second for his brain to decide that he liked this tea. It was smokey and nutty with a hint of sweetness. It was also rather strong, more like coffee than the weak store-bought teas that he had tried in the past. It had a strong kick to the flavor like the brews he would get in cafes in Mexico where they preferred a more robust cup. The drink instantly relaxed his whole body as he settled deeper into his chair and enjoyed the new drink. He looked into the cup and realized that he had already drained it, the warmth of the drink bleeding away from his center to his whole body. Rynan giggled as she refilled his cup.

“This is really good.” Marc stammered out, embarrassed but grateful for the refill.

“It’s a special breed of Charnall that I grow myself. I’m glad that you like it.” Rynan took a sip from her own cup and let out a contented sigh. “I prefer Charnall in the morning and Hepic tea for the evenings. As they say, it’s best to start your day with happy thoughts, and save bitter things for the end.”

Marc didn’t recognize the names or the saying, so he simply let out a small nervous laugh and nodded slightly.

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“Marc, Grenn tells me that you were wandering around the foothills, outside the walls all alone? You don’t have any identification or belongings and don’t remember where you came from?” The interrogation had begun it seemed. “Are you sure there isn’t some family or contacts who are out looking for you that you can remember?” She asked.

Marc shook his head and answered. “Uh, no, not really. I don’t really remember. Where I was or how I got there. “It’s all just… I don’t remember. That guy, umm, Grenn, he found me and helped me and… “ He blurted out, looking for all the world like a teenager who had been caught vandalizing late at night.

“Don’t worry, we aren’t doing to pry. We just want to make sure you get back to anyone who might be able to help you. Any family perhaps? Grenn said something about a second name. Is that a House name? Churchill?” She spoke calmly and gently in an attempt not to make him more nervous.

“Umm, no It’s just my family name. But I don’t think there is anyone nearby. We’re from… far away I think.” He wished he had more information about the society here. The interface said that both Grenn and Rynan had family names, but it seems that maybe not everyone in this world did. Or maybe they were used differently.

“I see, I’m sorry Marc, but I have never heard of a House Churchill, certainly not one in Clearwater or any other nearby cities. I think you did indeed come from a rather faraway place. I don’t suppose you remember anything about the city you came from?” She spoke sympathetically, but she seemed to anticipate his response. Marc was starting to feel bad about lying, but he didn’t think he should be telling anyone about where he was from.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember much, nothing about where I was from. Nothing from before… from when I was outside there…”

“It’s alright.” She said reassuringly. “Luckily you ran into Grenn. He’s a good boy. He can be a bit immature sometimes, but he won’t do anything to cause trouble for other people. He has a bit of a <######> complex.”

What was with people in this world treating others as children? Was it a cultural thing to act condescendingly? Then again, Grenn had addressed Rynan like an old lady, she must be older than she looked he guessed.

“You are lucky we are near the badlands, far from the borders. No one will be particularly interested in your background here as we are far from the border of Melvitra. Of course that will make it more difficult to track back to your people and help you get home.” She seemed to be searching his face for some signs or tells while she spoke. “Until then, you are welcome to stay here until Grenn can arrange something for you back in Clearwater. Is that alright with you?” She offered.

“Umm. Yeah, sure, if it’s not too much trouble.” Marc didn’t see any other options. He couldn’t very well survive outside with those killer bunny rabbits hopping around, and who knows what else. “Umm. I don’t have any money though. I have no way to pay you.” He admitted.

“Don’t worry about that. I said that you were my guest, didn’t I? It’s been so long since I’ve had company here. It will be nice to have someone to talk to. You know Grenn used to stay here too back when he was younger than you are. He was more than a troublemaker back then. The number of times I had to save him from falling off a cliff or ending up in some beast’s stomach… It’s a miracle that he made it all the way to join the Guild.”

Marc tried to sort through what she had just said. How old was she? She took care of Grenn when he was Marc’s age? Almost thirty years ago? He did some mental math, then tried to pull up her stats again with his interface.

NAME: RYNAN RIVERWALL

AGE:

BASE LEVEL:

RACE:

AFFILIATIONS:

STATUS:

LEVEL UP YOUR INTERFACE TO GAIN MORE INFORMATION ABOUT RYNAN RIVERWALL.

!YOU HAVE ATTEMPTED TO INSPECT A PERSON OR AN ITEM WITH A STATUS THAT IS PROTECTED FROM APPRAISAL. INSPECTION IS NOT POSSIBLE.

As he looked over the blocked-out information again, Rynan’s eyes locked onto his gaze. She smirked and with a hint of mischief in her voice said “You know, it’s not considered polite to appraise a person without permission.”

Marc quickly averted his eyes guiltily and sat up in his chair, leaning back away from Rynan and almost dropping the cup onto the table between them. “I… I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean…” guilt etched into his face. Then he realized that this meant she knew about his interface. Could she read his status as well? He felt even more uneasy suddenly.

“So, you do have an have an appraisal skill. I suppose Grenn was not making it all up.” Her tone became more businesslike. “And the storage skill? You have a storage skill as well?” A growing curiosity seeped into her voice.

Marc wasn’t sure what to do. Then again, he realized, what choice did he have. He didn’t have anyone to rely on in this world, and he needed more information. If these people would indeed help him, maybe he should trust them, at least until he had a better idea of his situation. He held out his hand slowly, then pulled the water bottle from his inventory and summoned it into his grasp. Then he pushed it back into his inventory and as it disappeared, he smiled and waved his hand theatrically, “Tadah!”

Rynan’s curious look instantly turned dead serious. She lunged closer to him over the table and almost shouted. “Do that again! Now! Do it again!” Her demand was almost desperate in its urgency.

Marc was immediately taken aback. Grenn had seemed surprised but wasn’t too upset by his earlier demonstration, but for the first time this calm and motherly woman had lost her composure. Frightened by the intensity of her glare, he quickly complied, pulling the bottle back into his hand, and then pushing it back.

She stared at him again, studying every bit of him with a burning intensity. Then, as suddenly as her mood had changed, it switched back and she fell back into her chair. She took a couple of deep breaths, then her kindly smile returned and the tension receded between them.

“Marc, that was not Space magic was it?” she said calmly, more as a statement than a question. He just blinked, not knowing how to respond. “That wasn’t magic at all, it was something else, right?” Again, he just blinked his response.

“Who… no. What are you?”