“That’s wonderful!” and Ecan looked her in the eyes as he said it, with his smile reaching them and everything. Then his gaze darted to the side and Naeris thought, as she often did, about how much he sucked.
“Yeah” Naeris rocked back on her heels and didn’t offer to help Ecan as he packed up the sample casks. Her parents had insisted she head down the mountain to the market right away, to tell Ecan the news.
She hated the market. The Crag avoided her like she had the plague, whilst travelers obliviously bustled about, bumping into her and shoving past.
“Well,” and her brother spoke with the sort of fake cheer that should’ve been reserved for acquaintances and unpleasant customers- not siblings. “We should celebrate! Let’s hit up the spire!”
Naeris snorted, “The spire?”
“Of course,” Ecan smiled, “Best bar cityside, and besides- some of my mates are planning a get together after the market anyhow.”
“Ah.” Naeris rolled her eyes, “And your mates won’t mind a crag on written for magicks showing up to a bar which was once the home of a wizard?” The wizard of the white spire had been a mostly harmless kook, but he’d still created the songnicks, tiny pests which whispered lyrics to you while you slept, causing songs to loop around your head for days.
“It’s fine!’ Ecan shrugged away her concerns, “As of today you’re off written, and besides, I wanted to introduce you to my friend Tomelin.”
“Ah.” Naeris grunted again, letting her face morph into a scowl. So that was why her parents had insisted on her heading down, and why Ecan was inviting her out.
Might even be why today had been the day Elder Oleth took her off written.
“Is that a no Ah or a yes Ah?” Ecan asked, smile strained, as he wiped his hands on his pants and slung his satchel over his shoulder. Naeris grunted. “Alright then!” Ecan spoke too loudly, “To the spire!” He clasped her on the shoulder, then seemed to remember himself and quickly let go, leading them off towards the spire.
Bestat was at its most beautiful as the sun set. A city carved from marble and draped in a multitude of colorful fabrics and carvings, it lit up as the sun faded. Particularly today, as the brilliant red sun faded to a purple in the sky, lavender reflected across white marble between swaths of hanging fabrics. The spire showed off this feat of nature best, the length of its leaning ivory gleaming purple in the dusk light. It was a popular bar, even amongst Crag who considered it a bit macabre to be drinking in an old wizard tower. Sure, the old wizard whitespire had been tried and hanged centuries ago, and for nothing too terribly devious, but it still had that sinister edge of magicks.
The pub was comprised of seven floors,with bar counters on the first and fourth, and tavern wenches roaming each level to ensure everyone was happy. Ecan’s friends had secured a table on the third floor, and Naeris found herself pushing up several flights of narrow stairs to reach it. As Naeris and Ecan rolled up to a crowded table of Crag their age, she had no doubt that someone had been there earlier on to secure such a table. Upon seeing Ecan the lot cheered, making room for the two of them at the table.
Three shallow drinks were quickly shuffled in front of each of them, and Naeris and Ecan began the arduous task of downing each one before speaking.
Crag culture is generally very formal, with emphasis on proper address and decorum in public. However, there is a longstanding tradition that such manners might be set aside after three drinks. Intended to make allowances for a long evening of drinking and camaraderie, what this has instead turned into is a tradition of downing three drinks in succession as soon as one enters a bar. The drinks were usually shallow and not terribly strong. The white spire, somewhat unoriginally, called their trio ‘the welcome package.’
Ecan finished his third while Naeris was still on her second. Unable to speak, she found herself a captive audience as he announced to the table at large, “Folk of my folk!” Ecan’s voice boomed and his friends cheered, heads at other tables turned, “I come here tonight to announce a great occasion!”
“Y’ve had your three drinks!” One of Ecans burley friends shouted, “Y’can stop talking like a proper ass!”
“Nonsense Kent!” Ecan shouted back, “For I've got a right proper announcement to make!”
“Well then get on with it!” A different friend shouted, and Naeris started on her third drink.
“I’m getting on!” Ecan laughed, looking around, “Where’s my fiancee?’
“Ecan!” That was Kent again.
“Right, never mind.’ Her brother shrugged, “My point is,” he smiled “Naeris Farken, my illustrious younger sister, has been taken off written and will be officially walking the road tomorrow!”
If anyone were ever looking for an example of killing the mood, Naeris would point them to this moment. Every Crag on the floor seemed to take a pause and glance at each other. The ones who’d found themselves at a table with Naeris, side eyed her. She was still busy finishing her damned third drink. Even the travelers seemed to notice the pause.
It might have been the quietest moment that the spire ever had. Then, thank gods, one of the travelers started to clap, and the moment was broken. The Crag remembered themselves, their friendship with Ecan, and they gave some boisterous cheers and claps. A few careful nudges from other Crag around the table, some half hearted congratulations, and the party moved on. Ecan sat down and gave Naeris a strained smile, turning to talk to his fiancee as she made her way over to sit next to him.
By the time Naeris finished her third drink the table, and bar, had almost entirely moved on from ‘celebrating’. Damn if she didn’t need to get better at that.
Next to her, one of Ecan’s friends (one of the ones who’d been silent after the announcement) gave her a lukewarm smile, “Congratulations.” Naeris sideyed him, nodding in return. He was definitely of a type for Ecan’s friends. Overly muscled, intricate stone pattern, teeth a little dull for her liking. Naeris looked at him and thought in no circumstance do I want to sleep with this man.
“You must be Tomlin then?” She grunted.
He rubbed the back of his head, “At your service. Tomlin Kypur, he who forged the ever blade.” It was an impressive formal introduction for someone their age. Naeris’ wasn’t near so charming and she didn’t much care to share it.
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“Well Tomlin, I imagine you’re familiar with my name- seeing as we’re intended to be intended and all.” She raised an eyebrow and flashed the corner of one fang, “And of course, my sterling reputation does tend to make its way around town.”
Tomlin snorted, putting a hand to his chest, “I’ve no idea what you could possibly mean ma’am Farken. I’ve heard of you only and a proper Crag from good folk, and certainly never so much before tonight...” He winked, and she snorted, at least he had a sense of humor. She decided to at least give friendship a go, if she was going to be stuck with the man for the next several hundred years.
Naeris held out a hand, “Naeris Farken, she who re-discovered the everlanche.”
Tomlin, who had rather unfortunately been taking a drink of wine, snorted into his cup, sputtering wine and causing the Crag next to him to grumble. He ignored her hand in favor of launching into a coughing fit.“Discovered?” he rasped, “is that what they’re calling it?”
She grinned, “Oh yes. Quite the feat of scientific exploration, and for one so young!” Tomlin looked like he was about to choke, and Naeris found herself grinning in return.
“You know we’re quite the pair you and I,” she leaned in conspiratorially, “ever-blade, ever-lanche. A very ever based duo.”
“Ah, yes,” Tomlin patted the wine on his front with a napkin, “We’re a matched set.”
Naeris nodded decisively, “Indeed, equal contributors to the greater good of Crag society.”
Tomlin grinned, “Couldn’t have put it better myself.” Next to him, one of Ecan’s friends, evidently eavesdropping, rolled their eyes.
Naeris let her honest grin slip in favor of a practiced smile, “Well, it’s been well-met everblade Tomlin. Perhaps, in the interest of friendship, you and I should get together again?”
“Of course!” Tomlin kept up his honest grin, “I hear you’ve something of a to-do tomorrow, so perhaps in two days time?”
“Certainly.” Naeris smiled, “Same venue, same hour?”
“Works by my accounts.”
“Excellent, I’ll meet here then.” She stood up, looking over to where her brother had draped himself over his fiancee, “Let Ecan know I’ve headed home?”
Tomlin followed her gaze to Ecan and snorted, “When he comes up for air I’ll inform him”
“Much obliged.” and Naeris nodded half heartedly to the other members of the table before making a hasty retreat.
The spire was crowded, even more so than when she’d arrived. It was now full to the brim with Crag and travelers alike, and as Naeris pushed her way out of the dimly lit pub, she found it increasingly difficult to breathe.
Damn Ecan.
Damn him and damn her rotten luck. This was just always the case wasn’t it? Things just started happening when you didn’t need them to. She had everything she wanted, opportunities abound, right as she realized that it maybe-
Something else was bound to happen now, there’d be some new opportunity, off to lead her down paths she shouldn’t go down.
Naeris felt her breath pickup, and vision shift. She made it to the first floor with a tight chest, when someone clasped her by the shoulder. The Crag girl spun around, yanking her shoulder free, and finding herself looking up at a tall human woman, draped in leathers and furs that were no doubt much too warm for balmy Bestat.
“Naeris Farken?” The woman's voice lilted pleasantly, and she held eye contact with Naeris easily in the crowded bar.
Naeris took a step back, “Who’s askin’?”
The woman held up her hands placatingly, “Mara Gladely, on the road to Ret’jak, she who has seen worlds-end.” She had a sharp smile for a human, “I had a proposition for you.”
The Crag woman snorted, looking the human up and down. She wasn’t un-attractive…
“Not interested Mara.” Naeris began to turn, and the woman grabbed her by the shoulder once again.
“Not what I was proposing,” Mara spoke too close to Naeris’ ears, leaning down a bit, “Though… not to say I’m opposed in that direction.” Here the woman looked her up and down, and Naeris found herself once again pulling away, ears pushing back towards her head as she felt her cheeks flush.
“Then what were you proposing Mara?” Naeris narrowed her eyes, scanning the crowd around them as she did so. No one seemed to be paying them any particular notice.
Mara leaned in close again, talking low, “Word on the street is that there’s a Crag wizard in these parts.” The human grinned as Naeris’ ears flicked alert, “And, see, I seem to have found myself in possession of some old Crag spells. Alas they are useless to me, but for someone else…”
The woman had nicely pointed canines for a human, “I was wondering if you might know where I could find an interested buyer?”
Naeris paused, staring blankly into the middle distance, before yanking herself a step further back and bearing all her teeth. Her ears pointed upwards and she ground out her words with stone-folk gravel, “No.” she spat, “I don’t know. As a Crag off written, cleared to walk the road, and respectable folk amongst my people, I cannot help you with such inquiries.” Her eyes were narrowed to slits, “I would suggest you keep them to yourself in the future.”
Mara raised her hands, face still calm, “Apologies apologies, must have confused you for someone else.” The woman had the audacity to wink, “If you do find someone who might be interested in such things, let them know that I’ll be staying at the Iron for the next few days, if they do find themselves intrigued…”
Naeris swallowed her frustration, flicking her ears down to a more neutral position, “Of course.” She ground out, “Good Day Mara Gladely.”
“Good eve Naeris Farken,” and the woman bowed with a smile on her face while Naeris rushed away.
Damned humans. Naeris resisted glancing back as she left, scurrying through the drunken crowd. No more obstacles lay in her path as she escaped the pub, clearing the door to the spire and finding herself finally able to breathe freely.
Naeris looked around at the other city dwellers roaming the streets and shivered, shoving her hands deep into her pockets. She hunched her shoulders sharply, and headed towards the far side of the mountain.
_____________________________________________________________
It was much later in the evening when the Crag girl was once again alone. Clear of bestats city’s bustling streets she found herself in the hops fields of her folk.
The moon shone bright over head, all tint of red having faded from the sky. She looked down at her hands, and they were unblemished, clean and gray.
Naeris shivered. For that woman to have come up to her, in a crowded bar, accusing her of wizardry…
The last of the Crag wizards had been marked by red ink, tattooed all across their hands up their forearms, to symbolize the blood debts they bore. In the pictures of their hangings, the limp red hands always stood out to Naeris.
When she’d had eight turns,Naeris had come to realize the true horror of what she’d done. When that realization hit, she used to color her skin red with inks and dyes. She traced the lines between her stone patterns with brilliant berries till it looked like she was bloody up to her elbows. Her parents had been horrified, hiding her from visitors and Farken folk alike while waiting for the color to fade.
Sometimes Naeris still imagined that she could see the colors permanently on her skin, hands a little more pink than that of the average Crag.
She sat down heavily in the field, the dirt, the sandy dirt. It was a still night. Calm, not too cold, not too hot. The sounds of the city echoed across the plains.
Naeris sighed, toeing a stick by her boot.
She wasn’t even sure what a stick was doing in the hops field. It seemed put there to taunt her. She picked the stick up.
She drew a line.
She muttered to herself.
“A line in the sand.”
Leaning back Naeris rested on a barrier that was invisible, that had not been there a moment ago, that was neither cool nor warm to the touch.
The hops around her seemed to still, the breeze calming in the air as the moon shone dispassionately over head. For the second time that day Naeris cried. She looked down at her hands and knew herself to be both a liar and a wizard.
A disappointment to her family, and a disaster in the making.
She let her head roll back as she gazed at the sky, resting on magic which seemed to hum behind her.
Crimes which she found she could not avoid committing, though she lacked backbone to allow herself to be outcast or hung. Naeris thought about walking the road, and she found herself curling over to dry heave into the dirt. Her head thunked back onto the barrier as she sat up once again.
Around her, a woman's voice echoed on the wind out from the darkness, “All these years later, and you still know just the one spell.”