Nevin tugged the wool knit sweater over his head and frowned. His hands fell well short of the arm holes, with a good half a foot of extra material brushing his knees.

He shrugged. Warm. Dry. Things could be far worse.

Somewhere below, a door creaked open, then creaked quickly closed. Muffled voices drifted up the staircase, too quiet for him to understand what was being said.

He straightened. Theis.

Shoving the loose sleeves up to his elbows, Nevin shouldered the burlap-sheathed weapon and bolted down the stairs.

And came face-to-face with the most beautiful human he'd ever seen in his life.

“A friend of yours, Donald?”

The young man started at her unexpected appearance, the silk-wrapped breathy voice belonging to the flawless face of a middle-aged woman. With her steepled hands clasped at her waist, her almond-shaped brown eyes regarded Nevin through wavy strands of chestnut hair. The faint traces of a self-assured smile touched the corners of her pale, wispy lips. A gauzy yellow dress hung loosely about her diminutive form, appearing as thought the slightest hint of wind might sunder the delicate cloth and carry it like a cloud toward the horizon.

He swallowed, painfully aware of how he must look in Donald's giant-size hand-me-downs. In all of Elbin, there hadn't been a single woman to match her beauty. The way she stood, her back straight as a wooden dowel, chin tilted slightly toward the ceiling, one foot leading the other, she reminded Nevin of a dancer posing before an adoring crowd in the moments preceding a show.

Donald, sporting a knowing smile, reclined back into the plush cushions of the couch. He hoisted a glass of dark liquid to his lips and sipped. “Ho ho ho. I'd be careful there, young man. Better not to let your heart get out in front of your head. Especially with that one.”

The woman rolled her eyes. “As if the heart was ever a man's problem organ, Donald.”

She grunted in amusement, gliding over to the dining table and sitting. She crossed her ankles and sat perfectly straight, ignoring the chair back. “Taking in strays now, are we? You always were a gentle soul with a soft spot for the less fortunate.”

“Be a rich man if not for that.” He shrugged. “But I get by.”

Nevin blinked. “I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to stare. It's just...I thought you were someone else.”

A door clicked shut, and the young man turned his head to see the inky form of Theis standing in the entry way of the open room. With his simmering eyes trained on Nevin, he pulled back his cloak and slid his sicklesque blade home.

“Surrounding block is clear, far as I can tell. Blasted fog didn't make it easy.” He pointed a finger at the woman in the yellow dress. “Long as you can control yourself, old woman, you shouldn't have any visitors tonight.”

“Wait, 'old woman'?” Nevin wrinkled his brow in confusion. “This is who you kept telling us about? The woman who sent you to Elbin?”

“I prefer to be called Aurnia, if it pleases you both.”

Aidux stretched from his place in front of the fire before rising from his brief nap. “Mister Theis isn't one for names, so I wouldn't get your hopes up.”

“Drop the 'mister', cat. It's just Theis.”

The lynx padded over to Nevin's side. “See what I mean?”

Donald raised his glass. “Point of interest? The cat talks.”

“Enough,” Aurnia barked, narrowing her eyes slightly, and with that subtle change, her casual gaze took on an icy tinge. “My patience has worn thin on this, Theis. You told me this fetch quest of yours would take no more than a week, but by my count it's been nearly ten days, and unless I'm confused, you've returned with little more than this...scrawny provincial and his pet.”

Scrawny provincial? Irritation crept into his voice. “I prefer to be called Nevin, if it ple-”

Theis cut him off. “Criticism comes so easily from those who spend their days drinking tea by the fire.”

“You're the one who refused my company. Can't say I didn't offer.”

The man in black snorted. “Would have been even more useless in a fight than than that one.” He waved a gloved hand in Nevin's direction.

And with that condescending remark, Nevin's pent up frustrations overflowed.

“Shut up. Both of you.”

Everyone turned their attention to the seething young man. Silence fell over the room, interrupted only by the occasional crackle of burning wood. Nevin was gripping the bundled weapon so tight his knuckles were white. He stared at the floor, gritting his teeth in throes of the sudden surge of anger. Aidux placed a comforting paw on his thigh, but it didn't help.

The man in black reclined against the door, the motes in his eyes vibrating against their swollen pupils. “Something to say, boy? Spit it out, or leave the discussion to the adults.”

Nevin shot the man in black a withering look. He strode over to the empty table and slammed the Sharasil flat. Despite the force behind the movement, it hardly made any sound beyond a dull, lifeless thud. Aurnia didn't flinch, watching the young man like she was really seeing him for the first time.

He started first with Theis. “You know, I've about had it with this 'boy' crap. You've yet to use my name once since you led me out of the woods. Even Vincht, the man who nearly killed me, treated me with more respect, with more consideration. You act like I'm some stupid child that needs to be dragged around without being given a reason or purpose.”

If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He turned next to Aurnia. “And you. I don't know you. You don't know me. So where do you get off calling me scrawny or...or...a stray? You don't know who I am or what I've had to endure to get here. In the last week, I've watched my entire village burn to the ground. I've lost my home and everyone I've ever known has either burned or been murdered. I've faced men who wanted nothing more than to bludgeon me to death to take something I can't give and didn't even want in the first place.

“And for what? To give it to some ungrateful stranger? Someone without the decency to at least introduce herself before she starts talking down to me? I've half a mind to just walk out of here and leave all this...all of you...behind. Then where would you be? Considering the damn thing's bound to me, and trying to move it would lose you an arm, I guess that means you'd be screwed.”

Exhausted, he plopped into the chair beside her. “But frankly, I'm just sick of all the abuse. I've been called everything but my name since I found this stupid weapon, and I'm done. I am done.

“My name is Nevin Walker. And now that you know it, you had better start fucking using it.”

Overwhelmed, the young man slumped back in his chair. Life had been out of his control for so long that it felt nice to snatch a measure of it back. Still, history had taught him that standing up for himself often ended with him not being able to sit down for a few days. He had eventually learned to just ignore or avoid Dalen when he fell into one of his drunken binges.

Theis, still as a statue, regarded him from beneath the hem of his hood. The motes in his eyes were still, their glow a light but strong blue. Nevin just stared back, fuming.

After a moment, the man in black offered him a slow, deliberate nod.

I hear you, it said.

Donald polished off the remains of his glass and stood. He clapped his hands together and smiled, apparently unfazed by the tense exchange that had just taken place in his living room. “Well then, Nevin. We've gotten you warm and dry. All that's left now is to get you fed. What would you say to a warm bowl of stew?”

Nevin could only nod. He ran a hand through his messy hair and laid his head down on the table. That brief outburst had sapped what little energy he had left.

“This stew was my late wife's creation,” The tall man lumbered over to the mantle and retrieved a pair of wooden bowls and a spoon. He crouched down beside the bubbling pot and gently swirled the mixture with a long iron ladle. “Life has not always been so kind to us. Before I had this shop, there were many days we went to bed with empty bellies and little hope, with no idea where our next meal would come from.

“Was she who taught me how to spot the treasure among the trash. She'd often set off early in the morning, leaving before I'd even opened my eyes, to rummage through the alleys, the rubbish heaps, comb the beaches for anything the ocean might have given up overnight. When she found something that might find value in the right hands, she'd take it home and clean it up. Once satisfied, she'd take it vendor to vendor, shop to shop, seeing if she could...convince someone to trade it for a meager sum of shils. More often than not, though, she'd be happy leaving with table scraps - leftover vegetables, herbs, bones, the less appetizing cuts of meat.”

He filled the bowls with a generous helping of stew and straightened. “She called it 'pauper stew'. I didn't know if that was a real thing, or something she'd come up with on the spot. All I knew is, we were hungry, and every spoonful was bliss.

“But then, the strangest thing happened. One pot of stew seemed to last and last and last. At first, I thought the gods had blessed us, that all of our struggles had earned our little family a modest boon, but the truth was far simpler.

“You see, every time the wife would get hold of new ingredients, she'd just toss it in the pot. Didn't matter what it was, as long as it was edible, in it would go. The longer it cooked, the better it tasted. Dense as I was, it took me forever to figure out what was happening. I was just so happy we had something to eat. So many different flavors, disparate as they were, coming together thanks to time and heat and proximity.”

Donald set a bowl on the table and squeezed Nevin's shoulder. The hearty aroma roused him from his near slumber, and the young man wasted little time.

“Wow,” said Nevin around a hunk of potato. “This is amazing.”

With a smile, Donald pat him on the shoulder before kneeling to set the other bowl in front of Aidux. “Glad you think so.” The bald man turned to Theis and gestured to the pot of stew. The man in black shook his head. With a shrug, Donald refilled his glass from a tall decanter and returned to his spot on the couch.

Aidux pawed at his bowl, but it was obvious to Nevin that the cat was only interested in it for its entertainment value. Nevin fished the last substantial chunk from his own bowl and switched the remnants with the cat's. “Just drink the broth.”

With a defeated grumble, Aidux bent forward and lapped up the gooey broth while Nevin went to work on the other bowl of stew.

Aurnia hadn't take her eyes off of him since the moment he started his rant. Even as he devoured his stew, she watched him, pointedly appraising his every move without so much as shifting in her seat. He pretended not to notice, but as the minutes and the silence dragged on, Nevin began to grow increasingly uncomfortable beneath the weight of her scrutiny.

The moment he pushed his second bowl away, the woman in the yellow dress chose to speak.

“I've misjudged you,” she began, smoothing the fabric draped across her knees. “It's not often my initial impressions of someone are wrong, but in your case, I'll admit I was incorrect. I'd like to apologize and, if you'll allow me, start over. Is that something you think we could do...Nevin?”

He crossed his arms and nodded. All he wanted was to be treated like a human being, and an apology was as good a start as any.

“Good.” She wiped a hand across the tabletop as if clearing it of dust, then turned her attention to the burlap-sheathed package waiting at its center. He could tell she wanted to reach for it, to loosen the ties securing the wrap and reveal the strange object hidden beneath, but instead, she folded her hands across her lap and leaned back into her chair.

“This is it, then? This is the sword?”

“Sword?” It made an odd kind of sense. The shape, the length, the placement of the grip.

She nodded. “You warned me, a moment ago. Not intentionally, mind you, but you said the sword is 'bound to you' and that attempting to move it would 'cost me my arm'. When I sent Theis after the sword, I was aware that it possessed some unique properties, but...

“Is that why you're here? Why you and...” She cast her eyes below the rim of the table.

The cat grinned up at her. “Hi there. I'm Aidux.”

“Aidux then.” She dipped her head, but didn't smile back. “Is that why you and Aidux made the journey to Comelbough? Did Theis escort you here because, for some reason, the sword bound itself to you in a way that makes it dangerous for anyone else to touch?”

“That's right.” A odd realization struck him. “It's...it's probably the only reason why we're still alive.”

His morose, significant tone caused Donald to look up from his glass. Aurnia pursed her lips thoughtfully. After a moment, she leaned forward and took Nevin's hand in her own. She gave it a sympathetic squeeze and softly introduced herself.

“My name, young man, is Aurnia Celine Mistral. I'm afraid you're in this mess because of me, but if we're going to get you out of it, I'm going to need details. Tell me everything that's happened since the sword came into your possession.

“Do that, and I'll share with you what I know. Maybe together we can figure out what to do next. Can you do that?”

Nevin searched her face. “I can try.”

She squeezed his hand encouragingly and leaned back. “Then start at the beginning, wherever you feel that may be.”

Donald slapped both hands on his knees and stood.

“Sounds like we're in for a long night.” He winked at Nevin. “I'll make the tea.”