“How’s that, my Lady? Is that better?” Krakka wonders after a several minutes of half-whispered prayer, stood off at the side of the couch with his hands laid on either side of Lady Naru’s head. When he came in before she was still languishing, looking a touch haggard after having drained a full bottle of the Temple’s rather strong wine, which, I think, didn’t really do the job for her on its own. When she first settled there after porting Driver 8 back she had what was clearly the mother of all migraines, and it was a miracle she even made it to the couch instead of dropping right on the floor, the strength was clearly leaching right out of her. Even getting falling down drunk didn’t seem to take the edge off again.
So Krakka volunteered to help, despite the fact that he was clearly already somewhat tapped from just barely managing to keep Thel from dying before we could get her back here. I suspect if she’d been feeling a little better she probably would have waved him off and just suffered through it, she seems just the selfless type to brave the hardship on her own, but instead she barely protested before giving in and letting him. He’s been at it for almost twenty straight minutes now, it feels like, but it seems to be doing the trick. The colour, such as it ever was, has returned to her cheeks, while the dark circles that were forming around her eyes have pretty much faded again, and she looks much more relaxed again.
After a thoughtful moment she actually purrs a little bit, shifting her position a little bit as she works her shoulders a little higher up out of a nearly prone position, and opens her eyes again, just a crack. “Oh … goodness, yes. That is .. much better. Thank you, Master Krakka. You are a godsend. Quite literally. Please thank your goddess for me.”
“You’re welcome, of course, my Lady. My Lady wants nothing but the best for all of us and … honestly, we need all the help we can get right now.” He sighs as he finally removes his fingers from where they’ve been gently pressing into her temples, stepping back now to retrieve Bloodmoon from where he left it standing up to one side. “And Kesla did request that I get you back on your feet, so …”
“Ah …” Lady Naru somewhat sighs the word as she takes a moment to stretch herself where she lies, then slowly sits up before she swivels her legs off the cushions so she can plant her feet on the floor again. “You’re right, of course. Things are …” Her brow creases a little, which takes me somewhat by surprise, actually, and as she straightens up in her seat her expression darkens considerably. She clears her throat, and it sounds surprisingly urgent, which also surprises me. Suddenly she looks … genuinely shaken, actually. “Complicated.”
When she looks my way and our eyes meet I can see it in them – she’s worried. It’s incredibly subtle, I could almost miss it, but I think I was looking for it anyway. This whole time we’ve known her, even though it’s been less than a day, she’s seemed so implacable, unshakeable, but I realise now I saw it before as well – when we were first back together after the fight, and Krakka was tending to Thel, when I passed on what he’d told me to the others, or at least those who didn’t know already, that Gael is … well, we don’t know, which is so much worse. Yes, I did, I saw it then too. Again it was very subtle, but the news hit her hard too.
For my part, until we started porting back here in fits and starts I was just pacing back and forth with my head spinning, full of rattled, fretful thoughts, rubbing and brushing at my mail trying to work the dirt off but just making my gloves messy instead. At least when we got back I realised I had something I could do, so I just got to it immediately, although in hindsight I imagine to some it might have looked like I was going a little spare in my own way. I just started stripping away my armour, waving Tulen off when she offered to help me, Art too, preferring to deal with this myself.
To begin with I was a little overly forceful with it, I had to stop myself and take a moment to steady myself, my hands were shaking badly, but once I had the tremors under control along with my nerves I was able to take a deep breath and focus with greater care on the task itself. Once I’d unbuckled my belts and harnesses and stripped away my armour I snatched some of the cushions and made a little nest for myself on the floor, settling down in my snug leather and linen under-armour and breaking out my kit to set about cleaning my mail. After a few more minutes just focusing on the task at hand I was almost able to forget, at least for a time.
Seeing Lady Naru’s reaction now, though, just brings it all flooding back, and I can’t help it, I just tense up. Since I’d finally finished with my armour and had instead taken up my sword, intent on inspecting the blade for any damage from my fight with that half-orc, I just wind up gripping the leather of the scabbard and the hilt overly tight, making both creak loudly. There’s no way either of them could have missed it.
Clenching my teeth, I deflect by just drawing the sword as intended, making as little fuss as I can about it as I hold it out lengthwise and look down the line of the blade, turning it over to inspect both sides one after the other. Well I’ll be … much as I expected, there’s nothing, not so much as a nick or a blemish, the blade as pristine as it was before. I can’t help frowning a little, again perturbed by the fact that I still don’t have to actually tend to this weapon, and carefully slide it back home in the sheath.
When I look up I find them both watching me, and while Krakka’s mostly just frowning, a little thrown himself, perhaps, Lady Naru still just looks sad. I think she’s caught my underlying mood as much as I have hers. I clench my jaw again, I can’t help it.
I’m about to speak when a small figure wanders through the door into our midst, and I close my mouth immediately as Brung heads straight to what’s starting to become his preferred spot in front of the fire. He doesn’t say a word, simply dropping onto his backside on the rug directly in front of the hearth, and crosses his legs while shrugging out of his cloak before starting to work himself out of the harness strapping his shortsword to his back. He doesn’t look any different than he did when we first got back, no more expressive in fact than when I first met him, but he still seems … I don’t know, somehow I can just tell that he’s feeling particularly dejected now.
Shooting a look to the others, I find that Lady Naru’s watching him as well, but she seems to sense my attention almost immediately and she looks up, and I can see the hurt still buried in them. She’s reading him as well as I am, clearly. Perhaps better, I’d imagine she’s a far better judge of character than I am, even with a goblin. Krakka’s just frowning as he cautiously starts navigating his way round all the pieces of freshly cleaned armour I’ve got laid out on the floor in front of me, toting Bloodmoon as carefully as he can as he goes.
Finally I let out a particularly quiet, low sigh and turn back to the newcomer. “Brung … are you … um … how are you doing there?”
Finally wresting the sword loose, he shrugs out of the straps and starts wrapping them up around the sheathed weapon, and I see his jaw work for a moment, very subtly, before he just hugs the whole thing to him. Cradling it much like I’ve seen Krakka treat his hammer, I realise. Finally he looks up, fixing me with his cold, unreadable yellow eyes, but takes a long time answering, likely considering his words now. “Kicked me out.”
“Who did?” I wonder after a confused moment, blinking a little as I try to work out what he means.
“Healers. Infirmary. Nothing more to do. They said. Not sure, myself.”
My skin goes cold immediately, my heart starting to beat faster as I shoot another look at the others, finding Krakka’s now on the far side of my spread armour now and preparing to take up the chair closest to Brung as he lets Bloodmoon thump down next to it. “Nothing … but … are they –”
“Alive.” He nods, a simple, clipped gesture, still no change in his expression. “Both. Thel … very sick. But Du … sleeping. Recovering, they say.”
Lady Naru lets her breath go in a heavy sigh, and I see her actually deflating now, dropping back in her seat now as she reaches up and brushes her fingers back through her hair in a surprisingly fretful gesture, I really. “Thank the gods … after what happened …”
“Did they say how bad her condition is?” Krakka’s frowning deep, sitting now but still craning forward, watching the goblin closely. “Is she out of the woods at last, or is there still danger?”
“Not dying anymore.” He shrugs, and again it seems so non-committal. “Get better, but long wait. Very sick.”
“But they’re getting better, at least.” I‘m able to relax at last too, letting myself ease back and just languishing for a moment or two now I can finally breathe again. Sort of. “It’s … at least there’s some good news.”
“Master Foxtail.” He’s still watching me with that same cool intensity. “Yes?”
Sighing again, I sit up and set my sword aside, lacing my fingers together now as I lean forward. Regarding the armour in front of me now, anything to keep me from thinking about it too much, but it doesn’t work. “Damn it … yes. Gael. I’m … we’re all worried about them.”
“Get them back.” He says it as matter-of-fact as everything else, so I can’t tell if it’s a statement of certainty or just hopeful conviction.
“Fuck …” I wince as soon as the word’s out, catching my voice breaking just a little as I say it, my throat suddenly thickening again, and I have to take a deep breath to try and steady myself as I grip my hands tighter. “I … I truly hope so.”
For a long moment the room is silent, no-one daring to say anything, and when I look up I see Lady Naru’s not even watching Brung any more, she’s simply looking into the fire, and her face is growing rather dark. Then I hear a low, slow grinding of something that’s not quite metal on stone from the back of the room, and when I look up Driver 8 finally seems to be stirring again. I still can’t tell where he’s looking, but I find my attention going straight to the entrance all the same. As if guided by instinct.
A few beats later Kesla walks into the room, Tulen trailing close behind her. Darwyn appears soon after, which takes me by surprise, given what little I learned from Krakka I was half expecting her to come back in chains, if she same back at all, but instead she simply breaks through past them and goes towards the back of the room. She barely pauses to acknowledge Big Man before settling into a chair as far away from the rest of us as she can get. She immediately draws her legs up to her chest in front of her, and wraps her arms around them to hunch into herself as much as she can until all I can make out of her face is just her eyes peering out at us over her knees. She looks somewhat haunted, I realise, but mostly just tired.
Looking up at Kesla, I’m about to ask what that’s all about when Art finally walks in, and the way he wanders around past the hearth before finally taking the other end of the couch from Lady Naru seems like he’s not really entirely with us. His expression is a whole lot more complex than the halfling’s I notice – he’s definitely tired too, but not at all haunted, more just … gods, I’m not really sure what that look on his face is, actually. Wonderstruck, perhaps, but not exactly … but clearly something decidedly life-altering just happened to him.
Blinking in confusion again, I look back up at Kesla. “What … where did you –”
“I take it this means that Darwyn is off the hook, then?” Krakka ponders, sitting back now as he finally hefts Bloodmoon up off the floor so he can start cradling it like he always does when he’s at rest. He turns to look up at Kesla now, cocking his head so he can watch her particularly closely.
For a moment she doesn’t answer, instead shooting a glance at Tulen, who just looks away almost immediately and starts unbuckling her swordbelt as she starts picking her way around my gear so she can sit down next to me. Finally our nominal leader just lets a heavy sigh go and folds her arms as she looks down at Art. “Oh yeah. I’d say she’s got a real compelling argument.”
That just makes me frown deeper as I regard her for a long moment, then turn to Art, who’s still just sitting there, looking somewhat stunned and more than a little lost, but not in an unhappy way. Which is a distinct improvement on the last time I saw him, I’ll admit, I know he’s as worried about Gael as I am, but I’m not really sure this is actually better. “Compelling? Really? How so?”
“I’m a da.”
“Well that’s lovely … what?” For a moment I just blank, I can’t help it, the news is just so thoroughly incongruous I have no means to make sense of it. Finally I blink and look at Kesla again, who’s dipping her chin as she lets out another heavy sigh. “Um … yeah, I mean … what?”
“Oh for …” Kesla releases her arms and takes a few steps one way before swinging back round and then just standing in place for a long beat. Finally she takes a deep breath and lets it go, clearly steadying herself, and when she looks back again she seems quite serene, actually. “It’s true, Art’s a father. He and Darwyn got a kid, she lives in the Drumhalt with an old friend o’ theirs, cuz she don’t want anybody at the Guild to know ‘bout her. ‘Cepts Cobb. He’s been spending last five years since she was born keeping Darwyn’s secret.”
That just makes my frown deepen as I look at Art again, then turn to crane back towards the halfling, who looks my way too after a moment once she realises I’m not going to ignore her after all. “I don’t understand, why not –”
“They’re both children of the Guild.” Lady Naru sighs as she sits up straighter, seeming more ordered now as she starts to stuffily pick at her robes, smoothing away at individual creases and smudges in the fine materials. “In their way. Art and Darwyn were both raised as foundlings by the Guild, and to them it is as much family as what you have built for yourselves, amongst your intriguing little unit. But the Guild is much more of an institution, with very particular rules and codes of conduct. There are some more traditional souls among them who might feel they have claim to this child as much as her parents.”
“I won’t have her brought up like Art was.” Darwyn mutters, but it’s loud enough for us to pick up on without any trouble, and the room has strong enough acoustics to help. “He may be a fucking moron, but he’s right about some things. No child should be raised the way we were. I won’t let that bastard Yevnik get his claws into her, I want something better for her. So she’s staying with Toyah, and she gets to be whatever she wants to be when she grows up.” Her eyes finally leave mine, shifting to look at Art again. “Anything but a killer.”
Well, I can certainly understand her feelings there. Memories are already flooding back to me of the wedge that was driven between my parents, the reason my own father left my mother in the Reaches when I was little more than a child myself, why I’ve not seen him since. Why I still feel that aching loss, the gaping hole in my life every single day. Da didn’t want me to become a thief and killer like my mother was turning me into, simply by teaching me everything she had been taught when she had been brought up. He wanted so much more for me, and it’s taken me far too long to finally follow the star he wanted me to. It’s why I’m here now. Darwyn wants the same thing for her child, and she’s right to.
But then … oh hell. I turn to look at Art again, and I can see he’s starting to come back to himself, and he doesn’t look happy, not anymore. I lean towards him now, trying to speak as gently as I can to him. “Art, I … I’m sorry –”
“You should’ve told me.”
Shit … he’s going there. He’s not even looking at me, instead glaring right past me towards Darwyn, and when I turn back to her again she’s looking up a little more, her eyes wide under the curtain of her darkly fiery hair. Still so haunted, but there’s real pain now too, and a little angry, maybe. At herself or him I couldn’t begin to imagine.
“Art, I –”
“Please, just …” He grits his teeth, and his eyes are growing wet now, even as they start to narrow. “Just don’t. I get it, I sure ain’t father material, but you still should’ve told me I was gonna have a daughter. You owed me that much at least.”
“Owed you …” She lifts her chin a little, straightening her back enough that she can properly peer over her knees at him now, at least as much as the arrangement of the furniture and her diminutive size will allow. “I owed you? Oh, that’s rich … you were leaving. You’d got it in your thick head that you could just cut out of here and leave all of this behind, make some kinda clean break, leave that whole shitty mess with Yevnik behind. And I wanted to go, I really fucking did … but then I just started throwing at really stupid times, and I didn’t understand what that was about, I had nobody to tell me what the fuck was going on, I got scared, I thought maybe I was dying … and that would’ve been bad enough, you got it in your head you were gonna leave and I was gonna die on you. But then Toyah took me to Brigid’s Temple, and it only took the cleric two fucking minutes to work out that I was up the duff. And then I got really scared …”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Art watches her for a long, drawn out moment, his eyes still narrowed, so suspicious now, I don’t know how he’s actually going to react. “Scared? You were … why? I thought … we’d talked about this though, remember? You thought maybe you’d like to be a ma someday.”
For a beat she just stares at him, eyes wide and sharp now, and that fear’s just gone now, she’s pissed. She hops down from the seat so quick it actually alarms me, I even see Driver 8 shift just a little bit when she does it, but nothing more, no indication he might actually be reacting to a perceived threat. As she starts speaking now she stalks towards him, although having to wind her way around the furniture somewhat spoils the effect.
“On the road? Just the two of us, nothing to rely on? No way to make enough money to actually raise a kid? Seriously? You think that would’ve fucking worked? How the hell could we have ever provided for Vanna out there, like that?”
“I could’ve …” His frown deepens, his bottom lip starting to protrude now as he gets defensive. “I … we could’ve found work out there, on the road. I mean I make a pretty good living out there with the others, we make some decent fucking coin doing the work we do. And it’s honest work, Dar! Work I can actually be proud of!”
She stops a few feet short of him, giving him a truly dark glare, and she’s so tense, I can see her tiny little fists clenching tight at her sides, her back stiff now. “Mercenary work? As a bloody sellsword? Are you for real? You think we could possibly have raised a child on the road doing that kinda work? Or would you have been off doing your precious elevated prowler work with your lovely teammates while I waited back in some inn or boarding house somewhere with Vanna fretting for days or maybe weeks on end about whether you’d even come home again? Really? Is that a joke?”
For another few beats he glares back at her, still as angry as she is but clearly starting to deflate in the face of her rage, but then finally he looks down, opening his mouth to speak again but then stopping himself. Instead he just lets a weary sigh go and growls. “No. You’re right. That wouldn’t have worked at all.”
“Exactly.” She hisses right back, but I can see her starting to relax, just a little, the fierceness in her expression receding some.
“But I still …” He growls, wordless this time, just frustration now. “I would’ve …”
“What?” She steps closer, but her expression’s changing, softening, the anger just falling away, becoming something more sad, deeply bitter. “Art, please, think about it … what would you have actually done? Would you have stayed?” She takes that final step and reaches out, hesitant, but she doesn’t stop herself even when he flinches back a little from her touch, before finally letting her lay her hands on his. “Could you have stayed? Really? After all those decisions you made, the bridges you burned? That trouble you stirred up with Yevnick … that would’ve festered in you like one o’ those …” She falters now, turning to give Krakka a pleading look.
The tengu just blinks, his eyes wider now, and I think he feels caught out all of a sudden. “What? What is it –”
“That weird wasting disease that folk get sometimes, that shit you clerics find so hard to fix, what do they call it again?”
“Oh … it’s called … well, there’s no real proper name for it, there are so many different kinds, it can work in so many different ways, but it’s still almost always fatal, so we do the best we can to …” He falters as he catches the range of looks he’s receiving now, and frowns, clearing his throat. “Yes, of course. Cancer. That’s the most common name.”
Darwyn nods, sighing, and leans forward a little now as she looks at Art, giving his hands a little squeeze. “Cancer, like that. That’s what it would’ve been. It would’ve been like a cancer, eating away at you, would’ve made you hate the world and everything round you, made you bitter. Or maybe …” She grimaces a little, then shifts a little closer still, and he moves to lean closer too, until their foreheads touch. “Gods, Art, you’re so bloody stubborn. You might’ve just killed that evil old bastard, or ‘least tried to, and that would’ve just got you killed too. And then where would we have been?”
He looks up at her now, and the anger in his own face is gone too, mostly he just seems crestfallen now, sad and growing increasingly resigned. Finally he lets his head fall again, and this sigh is the heaviest yet. “Yeah. I … fuck, you’re right. I would’ve been … I’d have been a bloody mess.”
“Yeah, you would. And I’d have been even worse cuz of it, too.” She sighs, but there’s a fragile smile quirking the corners of her mouth now that I just manage to catch. She leans a little further and rests her forehead on his crown as he remains slumped. “I guess maybe we’re both idiots.”
After another beat he looks up again, and he’s still so sad, but also more fragile now. His eyes are wet again, and his lip’s wobbling. “Yeah, we … we are … but I still … I just wish you had told me, bugger what it would’ve meant, all these years I been out there and I didn’t know I was a da. That I had a daughter back here who never even got to meet me once.”
Darwyn reaches up with her right hand now, and it’s another hesitant, faltering gesture, her fingers close to his face but never quite touching him. “Yeah, I … I guess I get it. Maybe … maybe I shouldn’t have … I don’t know, I mean it made things so much worse …” She sighs, looking down herself now. “I wanted to tell you. But I couldn’t … because … like I said, you couldn’t stay. And then you were gone, and I …” She looks up again, and her smile dissolves, her own lip quivering now, her eyes wetter too. “I just got mad. Really fucking mad at you for being gone in the first place. And then … five bloody years, Art. You were gone for five years, and then suddenly you’re just … back, and all I could remember was how fucking angry you made me.”
Art grins at that, but it’s a weak and fragile thing, and a tear breaks free, rolling down through the shaggy fur on his cheek. “Course you did.”
She smiles back, but she’s no better at holding it together, and while she chuckles it’s sad and fractured, close enough to a sob really, and she slowly starts to weep too. “Yeah … but I still wanted to tell you. ‘Cept … you were still so pissed at me, and that just made it easier for me to stay mad at you too, and then I could just never find the right time. So finally I just … I guess I thought maybe it would just be better if I didn’t tell you. ‘Least not yet. Not with all this crazy shit going on.” She chuckles again, and perhaps there’s a little more humour in it. “I’m … yeah. I am. I’m sorry. I should have told you. So I’m glad you know. And that she knows.”
He nods in return, managing a little chuckle of his own that sounds no better than hers, really, and just reaches up to take hold of her raised hand. “She’s completely amazing, Dar. She’s the most beautiful thing I ever seen. And she’s smart, and funny, and just …” He laughs, fuller now, even as his tears come harder now, his voice growing thicker. “Fuck, Dar … I don’t know where the hell she gets any o’ that from. Sure ain’t from me.”
“No, ‘course not. She takes after her ma.”
“Yeah, maybe.” Art barks out another laugh. “I mean hey, but yeah. Maybe you’re right.” He leans his head forward and she responds in kind, laying her own forehead against his again. “I’m glad she’s more like you. Means she’s got a real chance in this world.”
Darwyn reaches up with her other hand now and finally touches his face, and they both close their eyes as they just stay like this for several moments. Krakka’s lets Bloodmoon settle on the floor as he turns to look up at Kesla, who’s just watching the two former lovers with a very complicated look on her face. Myself, I’m just finding it hard nt to get caught up in the emotion of the moment, and I have to sniff to hold myself in check as I stand up. Finally I lean in close to her ear to whisper: “Her name’s Vanna?”
Kesla turns to me, a slow smile touching her lips, although I think she’s a little caught up too, there’s a note of wistfulness in her eyes. “Yeah. Vanna Trustfoot. Cutest kid I ever seen, she’s incredible. Looks exactly how you’d imagine the two of ‘em mixed together would.”
“And that’s where she went before?”
“To visit her daughter, yeah. She said that fight she got into this afternoon, whatever it was happened to her, hit her hard. Reckon she got a painful reminder of her own mortality, an’ what she almost left behind.” She shrugs. “Makes sense. I’d prob’ly feel the same. Not that I’ll ever have a kid. Ain’t really in the cards, obviously.”
I can’t help cocking a brow at that. “I don’t know, something tells me you’d make an amazing mother.”
She simply grins at that, shrugging as she shifts her feet for a moment. Finally she looks around at the others, then turns back to me, her smile fading. “So … how’s it all holding up?”
Ah yes, reality. There goes my good mood, then. I let out a sigh as my heart falls, the anxiety coming crashing back to set me on edge again. “Thel’s … well, she’s alive. But Brung said they’ve done all they could for her for now. She’ll get better, but … she was hurt so badly, it’s a miracle from Minerva that she’s with us at all. I imagine she’s going to be out of it at least as long as I was.”
“Shit.” Kesla lays her right hand on her hip while her left rests on her sword like it always does, and she sighs again. “That’s about what I expected. How about Dumoli?”
Turning back to the fireplace, I see they goblin looking up at us now, still no more expressive than an oyster. But he’s clearly caught the drift of our conversation with his incredible hearing. “Brung?”
“Not sure. Better, but …” He shrugs. “Sleeping. Later.”
“Yeah, that’s about right too.” Kesla looks at Krakka now, who I realise has wandered over to us now, looking up with quiet curiosity. “How’s her Ladyship?”
“I’m all right.” Lady Naru’s smoothing her robes down, now stood a few feet away from us, looking thoughtful. “Not perfect, but my condition should suffice, at least for now. Your cleric even sobered me up again.”
Krakka visibly winces as he turns to give her a rather sheepish sidelong look. “My apologies, my Lady.”
“Quite unnecessary, Master Krakka. I feel revitalised, well enough to be of service again for the time being.”
“Good.” Kesla looks past her now to regard Driver 8. “You good, Big Man?”
“Fully functional, as always.”
“Champion.” Kesla manages a rather rueful smile. “Where’s Sessa?”
“She ported out a little while ago.” I offer up “We got to talking, about Gael’s situation, and she figured that maybe she could get some more official wheels turning for us. So she went to see Madame Daste, said she’d be back when she can, maybe with help.”
“Yeah, well that’s all grand, but we can’t rely on it right now. Gael might not have enough time for that. I wanna help ‘em now.” She looks around again, a little more thoughtful. “Has Yes got back yet?”
“No.” I frown. “Was she coming back? Krakka said she’d been following those sellswords. He mentioned a warehouse. Is that the same one –”
“First Point, yeah.” Kesla nods with a good deal more enthusiasm than I would’ve expected given the current atmosphere. She has an edge now, but I can’t help thinking she might be perking up. Likely the idea of a coming fight is improving her mood. “Tulen talked to her again ‘fore we jumped back here, told her to get her arse back pronto. I want us all ready to go soon as possible.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to wait for Madame Daste? She might be bringing some real reinforcements. We could do with them now we’re down a few.”
“You really wanna just wait round while that evil bitch has our friend?” There’s a coldness in Kesla’s eyes that that chills my blood some. It’s not directed at me, more just the idea of Vandryss and … well, whoever the hell those newcomers were, hurting Gael.
I suck air in through my set teeth now, frowning hard. “No. You’re right. We should move while we can.”
“Right.” Kesla reaches up now and lays her hand on my shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “Get your armour sorted out, I’m gonna check my weapons. Don’t rush yourself. We can wait for everybody to be ready. Might be good to get a little food in you too, get your energy up again. But we’re still on the clock, so keep that in mind.”
“Sure.” I turn to regard Art and Darwyn, finding the halfling’s sat on the couch a few feet separate from him now, one foot up on the cushion, regarding him with a much less hostile look than anything she’s worn in the past. My friend, on the other hand, is just sat back, rubbing at his shoulder, frowning a little. Now I remember … “Krakka! You there?”
“Of course.” He takes hold of his hammer and hefts it up off the floor again, stepping over to us now. “What is it?”
“How’s your god magic? After what you did for Thel and then Lady Naru, I mean. Are you tapped out?”
That has him frowning up at me. “No, I have a little left in me. And My Lady doesn’t forsake me when I need her, all I have to do is pray for a time. Why? I thought you were –”
“Art’s shoulder. You need to finish healing it.”
His eyes widen as realisation dawns. “Oh! Goddess yes, of course. How foolish of me, I completely forgot. With everything else, I’ve just been –”
“Krakka, it’s fine.” I drop my hand on his shoulder and repeat Kesla’s gesture. “We’re all a bit worked up over Gael, and everything else, like you said. It’s understandable.”
Nodding, Krakka shifts Bloodmoon and lets it settle across his other shoulder, and I let him go as he navigates his way around my armour to reach the former lovers. When I turn again I find Kesla watching me, thoughtful again.
“What?”
“Nothing, really. You’re just … yeah, you’re a lot like your ma, I noticed. I didn’t know her long, but she made a hell of an impression. She’d be proud o’ you.”
Blinking in surprise, I shift my feet, looking her over as I try to work out what I could possibly say to respond to that kind of compliment. Finally I just shrug. “I’m just ... I want to help Gael, same as you, and the others. To do that we all need to be ready to go, like you said. It means he needs to do his thing and get Art fighting fit again, so to speak.” With another shrug, I turn to look over my scattered armour. “Yeah. It’s going to take me a little while to get back into that, if you want me to get something to eat too –”
“Already on it.” She turns away now, looking around. “Tulen?”
The young wizard jolts in her seat where I realise she’s been somewhat slumped for the last few minutes, starting to curl up in the comfortable cushions of one of the chairs as fatigue’s winning her over. She blinks rapidly, looking a little lost for a moment as she casts about with wide eyes, then she spots us both watching her and her blush starts immediately. “Oh! Oh … um … I’m sorry, I … yes … um …”
“It’s fine. You with us?” Kesla’s smiling now, indulgent and thoroughly amused.
“Yes, I’m … of course. I’m sorry.” Glancing about, she sees we’re all in the middle of making preparations now and pushes herself upright immediately. “How can I help you?”
“Excellent.” Kesla rubs her hands together. “We’re waiting on Yeslee to get back and there are a few other preparations that need to be made before we head out again, but in the meantime reckon we could all do with some grub to get us fuelled up again. How’s that sound?”
Tulen blinks for a moment, but her flush is fading again, which is probably a good sign. “Oh … well, yes. Of course it’s … yes. Just the thing, you’re right.”
“Fine. Can you run down to the canteen, put together a big platter with some sandwiches or something like that? Something quick but hearty. Maybe some coffee too.”
Nodding, Tulen starts to smile. “Yes. That is an excellent idea.” She starts to move off, then pauses and turns back. “Um … is that it?”
“I don’t see why not. Get yourself something too, obviously. You’ll be coming with us, after all.”
“Oh.” She blinks again, then nods, growing resolved now. “Of course. Yes. I won’t let you down.” She turns back and stalks out of the room with renewed purpose.
Cocking a brow, I turn to Kesla. “Smart.”
“Well, she’s been tripping over her own feet some since we got back, I know she’s prob’ly more worried about Gael than the rest of us put together. If she got something important to do for a while to distract her she might be all right again.” Kesla shrugs again. “And I weren’t lying, we do need her. Without Gael we’re down a spellcaster, an’ she’s definitely shown she’s got her own talents.”
“What about me?”
When we turn to her, Lady Naru’s stood by with her staff lightly propped against her shoulder, watching us calmly. I give Kesla a pointed look and she nods in return.
“You’re more’n welcome, my Lady. You got an investment in this too, more so with Gael gone, so …” She shrugs. “Yeah. You’re sure you’re good now?”
“Of course. Your cleric is, as one would expect of his profession, a miracle worker.”
“That was the idea. You got any preparations o’ your own you need to make? Like a sword or something? Maybe some armour?”
“Well I’ve never really had much use for the former, and the latter is a question of focus as much as anything else in my profession.” That answer just makes Kesla frown, but Lady Naru doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest. “A little food should perk me up the rest of the way, anyway.” Her smile narrows a touch while her brow quirks just a little, and she casts a quick sidelong glance towards the entrance. “Yes. In the meantime, I shall make my own preparations. You have your own business to attend to.”
Kesla starts to ask what she means, I think, but she’s already moving away, heading towards the back of the room now where Driver 8 is still stood by, as implacable as before. I turn to where she was looking before, and I understand what she meant immediately, so I give Kesla a little nudge and point her that way.
Master Taphun Saxiros has stepped into the room now, folding his hands across his waist now as he takes us all in. Mostly he looks curious, but there’s a slightly critical air in his regard all the same. Again I’m reminded of the low regard they seemed to hold him in when I was first introduced to him, before we got to know the more pleasant, professional side of this very principled dragonhalf Order official.
Of course, I know what this is about. I remember the request Kesla made of him before we headed out, after we’d finished interrogating Vik. He must have the information we needed on the mysterious wayward Order wizard, Luthan Tavarrat. Maybe there’s even something we can actually use. It’d be nice to finally catch a break.
As I start to step that way Kesla reaches out and very gently presses her hand to my chest. “It’s cool, you got shit to do. Get your armour back on, I’ll talk to him, then I’ll fill you all in after. Cool?”
Frowning for a beat, I finally nod back. “Yeah. Sure.”
Smiling again, she gives me a rough but friendly little underhanded slap on my upper arm and heads off to join the dragonhalf. I frown after her for a moment, wondering if I should have insisted on being part of that conversation after all, but she’s right. It’s going to be more efficient if we just get to this now. So I turn back to the room at large and check my under-armour over, thinking on the task ahead now.
Finally, as I step over around the scatter of armour on the floor once more to return to my spot on the couch, I take note of Krakka now standing over Art with his hands pressed on his shoulder while muttering prayers with his head bowed. Meanwhile Darwyn’s still sat there, quietly watching them both, and I clear my throat. “Darwyn, do you have a minute, there?”
She doesn’t so much wake with a start as simply sit up a little straighter, but her eyes are still a little wide as they turn to me now, telling me I did surprise her a little. “Oh! Um … yeah, sure.”
“Great. You think you could help me get all this back on?”