"I'm beat..." I grumbled when the last full bag landed in the back of the wagon. I wondered how I managed to wipe myself out that much when the carriage was just half full by the time we were done.

"We've been at it for a while," Arneth seemed just as energetic as the moment we arrived, the wizard. "I think we deserve a good supper, who agrees?"

"I very much do," Asaya covered the crates with a big, linen canvas and hopped down. "We could use something sweet after supper too."

"Sigrian looks like the type that likes sweets," muttered Siaril.

"You know him best I suppose," she giggled.

"I don't think so..."

"Eh? But you came to us together."

"That doesn't mean I know him..."

I followed Yasenka, so I didn't have to hear the rest of it... Arneth quickly promised Faerd, who volunteered to guard our supplies, a double helping of stew, and pulled Siaril and Asaya after us to the nearby tavern.

It was a rather big building, as expected from a town of blooming trade, composed of two parts connected by a small, interior passage. The one right by the street was probably the actual tavern, inviting guests with bright light of torches, the smell of roast and a sign depicting a soundly sleeping sheep. The other, hidden a little behind and lit with much softer light of small lanterns, looked like an inn for all the merchants and other travelers.

The Sailing Lamb was rather full, mostly with fishermen. Nevertheless, we managed to find a free table in a corner, where Yasenka and Asaya were more or less safe from any inappropriate, drunk looks. It was decorated with a few beautiful sea shells filled with wax, serving as adorable little candles.

The stew was rich, the bread that accompanied it fresh. And the hunger after the trip and all the supplies gathering probably acted as an ingredient that made it all even more delicious. After the main course, Yasenka ordered a whole apple pie for our group to share.

As we waited, already getting sleepy from the warmth and the weight in our stomachs, a quiet melody started to spread in the tavern. I glanced over to the huge hearth near the bar and spotted a hooded figure with a lute, tuning it in preparation for a performance.

"That's rare," Asaya said quietly. "There aren't many bards that stop by here. We're lucky."

The bard was really good. His songs were mostly calm, but kept everyone captivated, his voice like exquisite, dark chocolate. When I took a coin from the modest savings my parents gave me for the way to reward the artist, Arneth stopped me shortly, squeezing another into my hand.

"It's custom to give a bard at least two coins," he said.

"Why?" I tilted my head.

"So they make a sound when they fall together. A tune for a tune."

I smiled. It sounded so simple, yet was weirdly beautiful. I walked up to the man as he was finishing his third song and threw the coins into the protective cover of his instrument, making sure they land together. There was a buckle on the side of it with a small depiction of a sickle. Weird choice of decoration. The bard gave me a grateful nod, and despite not being able to see his face, I had the feeling he stared at me curiously, as if intrigued by something. I think he glanced towards our table too.

As I was returning to it, he suddenly switched the form of his performance. The melody became softer, like he was creating ambience rather than getting ready to sing another song. And surely enough, instead of singing, he started to tell some sort of story, making it a ballade:

"The adventures we set off on together

sometimes become tales that are being told long after we passed.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Though... some stories of tomorrow

take their origin long before we were born.

So is the story of the Empress

a beautiful creature born a simple girl.

Bestowed upon her the powers to control nature itself,

to grant wishes to those in need.

But only until a mage from a distant land

set foot into the sacred forest

pretending to seek her wisdom and share his.

The Empress set off on a journey

from which she returned changed.

No longer were the weak important to her,

her eyes rid of compassion...

Did the mage show her her true potential...?

Tempted her with a vision of caring for herself more than others...?

Does she now wish to become our ruler, not savior,

with a hand of steel and heart of ice...?

As months pass, the sacred forest remains mute,

concealing whatever intentions may lay within.

For there is no greater mystery

than the mind's..."

The ballade cut off abruptly, the bard suddenly jumping up with a pained yelp. Some customers rushed to him to see what's wrong, obscuring the view for a moment. When the hushed voice of the artist calmed them down eventually, I caught a glimpse of the man's arm, a hole burned out in his sleeve and the skin underneath reddened. I frowned. Did he burn himself? He didn't sit that close to the hearth...

"Serves him right..." I heard Arneth's angry grumble.

"Wait, did you...?" I saw the illathan staring daggers into the bard during the story as if that was going to stop him from continuing, but I didn't think...

"Of course not, I'm not a mage or anything," he shot my thoughts down.

I suddenly realized something and glanced at Yasenka, who was looking out the window, her arms folded on her chest. I couldn't see her face because of the hood, but the change of air around her was way too palpable. Siaril said that we Disciples were able to manipulate fire...

The gentle tunes of the lute that filled the tavern a moment ago became replaced by anxious and agitated muttering. I noticed quite a few glances being thrown in our direction, the quiet comments varying from 'why would they feel the need to cover their faces if she isn't among them' to 'don't try to make fun of tales about the forest people'.

"So..." I turned away from them to look at Arneth again, "all of that was about the 'criminal' you mentioned before?"

"Yeah..." the illathan's eyes remained on the candle that he was turning around in place, probably to calm himself.

"How did she land here in Earlindon? What land did she rule before?"

"She's not an actual empress. The title Empress of Life was given to her by the plebeians themselves, because of her abilities..."

"Oh... So first they worship her, then condemn her, with nothing in between..."

"It's so idiotic... They make us all look bad even though there's no one with such powers among us anymore. And besides, just because she stopped using them for the people doesn't straight away make her a felon. It's them who stupidly assume that a person who doesn't want to help them anymore will soon do the opposite... They even go as far as accusing her and that mage of murdering the lord of Shinestone, when it was probably just the damned mage himself... And to think that she used to say that she's only leading an extraordinary life to serve normal ones..."

I fixed my gaze on the table. A girl with unique powers really did exist then, she just wasn't in the Silivren Forest anymore... And a mage she knew was probably responsible for murdering the lord of Shinestone... Even so, the illathan protected her name in a way, which meant she had to be a good person at least to them...

Then, I frowned. Shinestone...? Mage...? "Don't tell me that the guy who..."

"Your order," the soft voice of a waitress interrupted me, an apple pie of generous size soundlessly landing on the table between us. I looked up again to meet Arneth's gaze, but he just shook his head. I decided to drop the topic.

Asaya cut up the apple pie with astonishing precision, making sure each of us got an almost identical piece. The aroma was enchanting, and the first bite I took brought a bright smile to my face without me even realizing.

"What is this?" I asked, amazed. I had apple pies before, but that one was something else.

In response, Asaya smiled sweetly. "It's made from apples that grow near the sea, and are soaked in mead before baking. The crust has the best local butter in it."

"That was... weirdly specific."

"That's because I was the one who sold the recipe to the tavern."

"Oh," I smiled. "You're an amazing cook."

She blushed a little and proceeded to check if her composition has been recreated well.

We spent the night before the return just outside of town. It was understandable that none of the illathan were tempted to stay in the tavern after that pleasant performance... I couldn't help but keep wondering what made the 'Empress' stop aiding people. Or where she was now after fleeing from the hatred. Or who the mage that came to the Silivren Forest was. Siaril did manage to find out that Shinestone was where Sharish was currently hiding... Was I reading too much into it? After all, Shinestone was also the city in our kingdom where the most mages remained, so it could have been any of them...

Stimulated by the eventful evening, my imagination tried to give me an answer to these questions in my dreams, through scenes that made my heart race faster when I woke up and evaded beyond the grasp of my memory as soon as I realized I was dreaming. We haven't even encountered Sharish yet, and my mind was already struggling to keep up...