Chapter Twenty-Two
The food was good, much better than what she or Mister Greeny were capable of making themselves. Although it was only stewed meat and vegetables, with a little bit of soft bread, it was seasoned with plenty of salt and something spicy that she hadn’t ever tasted before. If only the company were as good.
Mister Greeny couldn’t, or wouldn’t, talk, and the other patrons who didn’t immediately turn around and leave when they saw her sat as far away from her as possible. Silently. It was unnerving for her. She didn’t like how everyone looked at her as if she was a viper, ready to strike out at them if they got too close. It was like she was back in the village, only this time instead of looks of disgust like she was a slimy worm, it was abject terror.
Either way, she was being ostracized. Nothing had changed.
Having eaten enough to quell her pangs of hunger and tired of being the source of so much discomfort, Nia followed the trembling young man to her room. It was as barren as it was spacious. A four-post bed sat squat in the center of the room, pushed all the way against the far wall, flanked by identical end tables, one of which was the resting place of an oil lamp freshly filled with the amber liquid.
A wardrobe taller than she was, with iron handles and hinges oiled to prevent rust, sat abandoned in the corner of the room. The stained wood it was made of had short gouges pockmarked across it and patches made of glue and sawdust, painted over in an attempt to match the rest of the furniture. And as Nia swung her head to the other corner of the room, a low vanity greeted her. It had a wide, empty top to hold any number of things, a small stool that matched the palate of the rest of the room, and a mirror that reflected what lambent candlelight managed to reach it.
“Thank you…” Nia turned to the young man who had led them there, only to find that he had already disappeared down the long hall like a specter, leaving her and Mister Greeny behind without so much as a word.
These ‘mages’ must be dreadful to instill such fear. Mister Greeny commented, finally breaking his silence. Nia couldn’t believe how comforting it was to hear his voice, even after everything that had happened between them.
“I don’t like it.” She stepped into the room, closing the door behind them. She held out her hand with her palm facing the high ceiling, and with a force of will, a small globe of light came into existence and floated upwards. She blew out the small, flickering flame of the candle she was holding, its minuscule amount of light no longer needed. “The looks everyone was giving me were much worse than in the village. How can we get anywhere if everyone almost faints when we walk by?”
There was fear, yes, but respect as well. He countered. Great power can open doors otherwise locked; their misunderstanding may help us more than what is obvious.
“Is it really respect if it’s borne out of fear? They didn’t respect me. They just didn’t want to get hurt.” She huffed as she sat on the small stool in front of the vanity.
She was no stranger to her own reflection; magic was capable of many wonderous things, and a mirror was no large endeavor, but this was the first one she had seen made of glass. It was a little dirty, especially around the edges where the glass met the wood, but it was otherwise clear. She inspected herself and found that the magical light floating above her head managed to highlight how filthy she was.
Does it matter more where it comes from, or that it is there at all?
Nia’s eyes scanned the empty walls; small cracks ran through the plaster like lightning bolts frozen in time. Blocky discolorations stained the white paint, and holes marked where some paintings used to hang. She wondered where they went. “It does… To me.”
He stared at her for a long moment, watching her as she picked through her hair in the mirror. Fear is a reliable shield if anything. The misbegotten respect may be distasteful but the safety it helps to ensure is worth the bitterness.
She stopped and turned toward him, her face betraying the mixture of feelings battling within her. “I don’t want people to be afraid of me. I just want… I just… I don’t know.” Her shoulders slumped as she looked at her fists clenched in her lap. “I just want… them back.”
Hot tears rolled down her cheeks, falling from her chin before staining the soft fabric of her dress. She knew what she wanted was impossible, but that didn’t matter to her. “I’m tired.” She picked her head up and wiped away her tears. “We’ll talk more in the morning.”
With that, she stood and crawled into the bed.
Mister Greeny waited patiently for his little one’s breathing to slow, signaling she would not wake so easily. She had done so well handling such a difficult situation, and he couldn’t be more proud of her. Still, she couldn’t do this on her own. He would have to help her in some way. The main problem right now was finding out which of these cities her mother had been taken to. One wrong decision now could make a devastating difference.
In fact, it might already be too late.
It had been weeks since they came through this town. They held such a commanding lead on them that they would never be able to catch them, no matter what magic he was able to bring forth. At least that meant that wherever her mother was, that was where she would stay. They just had to find her.
Mister Greeny lay his head on his paws and closed his eyes. He didn’t need to sleep and wouldn’t as long as they were in any amount of danger, which would be constant as long as they were surrounded by the unknown. He needed to learn more about the world outside of the forest.
As the emerald light of his eyes dimmed, his vision shifted to a moonlit, open field just outside Bolin. The thigh-high grass swayed in the night breeze, fat seedpods grazing against his iridescent scales. A crescent moon shone on the rolling hills around him, and dark clouds crawled leisurely across a backdrop of thousands of stars.
He slithered forward, ignoring it all.
Having no limbs was a unique experience, one he found to be slightly less uncomfortable than walking on two legs. He held Mister Long’s head just above the grass as he pushed toward the town. With a force of will, the colorful mushrooms making up his scales shifted in color, becoming a blanket of black and mottled browns that blended into the muddy streets and rough buildings perfectly. He couldn’t use magic while controlling his golem but was still able to shift its appearance slightly.
This was purely a fact-finding mission. He wanted to learn as much as he could without filtering it through a fearful lens. He was just going to listen to whatever conversations he could. The golem’s body was quite large and not the best at any clandestine activities, but he refused to leave the room his little one slept in. So, it would have to do.
He took care to stay in the shadows of the narrow spaces between the buildings. Although the moonlight wasn’t bright enough to reveal him should he be caught out in the open, the brightly burning braziers atop the two-man towers were. He watched with silent, obsidian eyes as a man in one of the towers pushed one of the polished, concave brass backings. The light from the fire boiling in the metal bowl was concentrated by the reflective surface and redirected into a small section of the city, providing just enough light to see by.
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He would have to be careful.
A long stream of woodsmen filtered into the town, leading their oxen, horses, and heavy loads behind them. Many of the towers shifted their lights to the path they were taking, helping them to navigate the treacherous, divot-ridden road. They plodded along a side road that split off the main street, heading toward the wide river that split the town into two. There, he was sure they would unload the trees they were dragging behind them, and then they would go into the many taverns spread throughout the city to spend what little money they earned that day.
There, he would learn what he needed.
“Ya hear that Dirk pissed ‘imself?” A man’s raucous laugh filtered through a tightly shuddered window.
Mister Greeny was laying motionless, wedged between a boisterous tavern and another business that had only recently closed. The space between the buildings was barely wide enough for a man to walk through comfortably, meaning that no one ever did, letting it become nothing but someplace the residents ignored completely, and a perfect place to remain hidden.
“Who?” Another voice replied.
“Dirk. Ya know Dirk, don’t ya?”
A long pause, “Don’t think I do.”
“Big guy. Scar on his neck. Ya know, Dirk.”
“Not ringing a bell…”
“Well,” the first man scoffed. “It don’t matter. Anyway, a big ‘ol elk walked out the forest and went right to ‘im. I heard it was ten feet tall with a huge rack and big, black eyes that could gobble up your soul if ya looked into ‘em.”
“How do ya know?” The man asked, interrupting his friend.
“Know what?”
“That it could gobble up your soul. Did it do that to Dirk?”
“Well… no. That’s just what I heard is all.” The slamming of an empty mug echoed through the closed window. “I weren’t there myself, ya see. But that’s not the important thing; there was a woman that come out with the big bastard.”
“A woman?” the second man said, adding with a laugh, “She have a massive rack as well?”
The first man guffawed for a solid minute before catching his breath. “Nah. Said that she was just a little thing, cute as a button and dressed all fancy.”
“Then how did Dirk end up pissing himself?”
“When she spoke to ‘im, they said it was like listening to nails being driven into a casket… your casket.” Said the first man, with a serious undertone in his voice.
“Bullshit.”
“It’s true, heard it from Dirk myself. Said he was only still alive ‘cause he refused to look either one of ‘em in the eye. Said that he’s quitting the forest altogether, too many dangerous things about.”
“Heard that myself from others…” The second man said, “Been thinking ‘bout it myself.”
“Where the fuck is he!?” Came a roar from deeper inside the tavern. “Where the fuck is Samuel? I’ll kill that homewrecking son-of-a-bitch!!”
Mister Greeny listened silently for a little longer, the course of the conversations inside moving toward where Samuel was and whose wife he had been sleeping with. Nothing of that he cared about. He slithered from his hiding spot and went from tavern to tavern, eavesdropping on hushed conversations and exaggerated tales. Most of which revolved around himself and his little one and their arrival at Bolin; much of what was said was untrue. But he didn’t learn anything useful.
A click sounded out like thunder, and he paused. The sound came from nowhere near him, not the body he possessed anyway. Something was happening in the room where his body lay unmoving, the same room where his little one slept. His golem, Mister Long, as his little one had named him, was in a very compromising position.
He had been moving between the abandoned merchant stands, attempting to glean anything useful from what they left behind for the night. No prying eyes were currently nearby, but that could change at any moment. He couldn’t ignore what was happening inside the room to take the time to move someplace safer.
He ceded control of the golem, leaving it to fend for itself as his consciousness returned to his own body. Soft footsteps echoing in the darkness greeted him, the creaking floorboards betraying every other step. He got to his paws, his eyes burning with a wrathful intensity as he scanned the room for whoever had trespassed.
A figure shrouded in darkness was halfway across the room. Their hands were out in front of them as they slowly moved, feeling around in the black of night to ensure they didn’t bump into anything. They held nothing in their hands, and when Mister Greeny thought they would move toward his little one, they crept over to where her pack lay next to the shuttered window.
A thief had come to visit them in the night.
They must not have known that he was there, watching in the dark. He had been with his little one since they entered the town, so that left someone who had not seen them directly but still knew where they were. Surely, they knew that his little one was a ‘mage’? That word struck fear into the hearts of anyone who heard it, so this thief must be extraordinarily brave and confident in their skills or exceedingly stupid and equally confident.
It didn’t seem to him that this thief was an immediate threat. They only looked interested in what was in the pack in front of them, but they would be sorely disappointed in what they would find. There was nothing of value inside, only a few embellished dresses of varying make along with their accessories, combs and picks for his little one’s hair, and a few pieces of dried and seasoned meat. Everything else they needed on the road was producible with their magic, letting them travel with a much lighter footprint.
Still, he wouldn’t allow a thief to pilfer anything of theirs, no matter its worth. Mister Greeny rose and moved in one fluid motion, his magic working to lighten his steps, making him nothing but a cloud that floated across the wooden floorboards with just as much sound. The thief was unaware they had been discovered and was only a few feet from their mark. Mister Greeny was still undecided on how to handle the situation, feeling that death was not an appropriate punishment but still knowing a simple slap on the wrist was not enough.
Long vines uncurled from his wolfish form, winding across the floorboards like serpents. They were as thick as a finger and numbered in the hundreds as he pushed his magic to generate enough to act out his will. The vines gathered just behind the would-be thief and formed a wall of vegetation that nearly reached the ceiling. With a silent command, they wrapped around the intruder all at once, sealing off their muffled cries from the still-sleeping Nia.
They struggled fiercely, biting and straining futilely against the vines wrapped around their limbs, neck, and mouth, squeezing tighter with every passing moment. Eventually, either through exhaustion or the lack of blood flowing to their brain, the thief’s writhing subsided, leaving nothing but a limp form in its wake. Mister Greeny waited a few heartbeats before loosening his hold on the thief, ensuring they were fully subdued but not dead.
They still drew breath, which led to a decision he was still uncertain of.
Perhaps it would be best not to make this decision on his own. It was nearly dawn, and his little one was sure to rise with the sun, and he would make use of her input.