Rising Storm, page 37
"In a very short time she won't be my little girl any longer," Miasma said with a sigh.
"No, she won't."
"She's such a wonderful girl."
"Linda will lead the way," Vials said cryptically.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"In her I see one who might allow those dark elves who seek peaceful coexistence to live with the other people of Faerie. Others have started the process, but she will be important in continuing it."
"Her shoulders are too slim, and she is not strong enough for you to place that burden on her back," Miasma said, a hint of tears in her voice.
"You do not know your daughter as well as you should. Sadly, she is very much like you."
"Sadly?"
"Do you remember when you first came here?"
"Of course, but what..."
"You were so frightened, we could all see it," Vials said, interrupting Miasma. "Everyone else assumed that you were afraid of us, of the drop, but that was not it. You were wary of us of course, not surprising considering what had happened, and the thousands of years of hatred between our people, but you were not afraid of us. What you did fear was failure, that you would not accomplish the task that you had been sent to."
Vials turned her blind eyes towards Linda. "Your daughter is like you in that. She fears nothing but that she might fail. She is trying to be like you."
"That will not guarantee her a happy life," Miasma said, and wiped at her eyes. "Quite the opposite really."
"She will have to fight for any happiness she has, like you. And yet you are as content in your lot."
"Do you really think that?" Miasma asked.
Vials was silent for a moment. "Something concerns you."
Miasma nodded. "Yes. I am having doubts."
"There is nothing wrong with having doubts. We all have them at times. Tell me about them."
Miasma watched Linda and the others for a time, saying nothing, then she told Vials about the dragon she had killed a few days before. Vials listened, not saying anything until Miasma finished.
"So, you feel bad about killing this dragon," Vials said.
"Not bad," Miasma paused, "perhaps forced might be the best way to describe it."
Vials leaned back, turning her blind eyes towards the canopy above. "Have you ever asked yourself about the price of your calling?"
"Many times, especially as of late," Miasma said, a little surprised that she admitted it.
"I have wondered about it myself. Tell me, why have you left here so often?"
"Because I had to," Miasma told her. "There was evil that needed to be fought."
"There is plenty of evil to be found in this forest."
"You are more than capable of handling that," Miasma said, and laughed.
Vials turned to look at Miasma. She did not smile. "Would you like me to tell you the price I have seen you pay?"
"Yes," Miasma said, though part of her wanted to say 'no'.
"Your daughter. Your wanderings as a Knight Errant have cost you the chance to truly know Linda, and to put any doubts that you might have about her behind you."
"That's not fair."
Vials laughed. "Fair? Fair is a word children use. Even Linda does not ask for things to be fair any longer. Things are the way they are Miasma. Perhaps if you had not been off, playing Paladin, you might have learned that."
Miasma felt as if she had been slapped.
"You are a good person. You are a strong warrior. You are even my friend. You have been a bad mother in so many ways, and that, in my opinion, is far more important than the others. If you are beginning to have doubts about your choices, well, all I can say about that is good, and that I wish you had had them seventy years earlier."
It was not the answer that Miasma wanted to hear, and she was afraid to ask another questions of Vials, but she did not let the fear stop her. "What should I do?"
Vials got to her feet. "I don't know." She looked down at Miasma and smiled sadly. "You have to make a choice. You know that."
Miasma nodded.
"Remember Miasma, this is your home, by your own choice. Start thinking of it that way."
Miasma knelt on a cushion in her home, a clay cup, filled with cooling tea, by her side. Her thoughts were on what Vials had told her. Of what Wesleyan had said to her. Of prayers unanswered. They were on Linda.
She looked up, to where Linda sat on a window bench, staring up at the darkening sky. The first stars of the evening would be appearing. Across her daughter's knees was the beginning of a longbow that she shaped with knife and file. The movement of Linden's hands were deft and certain, though she did not look at what she did.
Miasma got to her feet and walked over to where Linda worked. Linda turned towards her and smiled. "It is going to be a beautiful night," she said.
Miasma sat down beside her and reached out to take the bow from her hands. "When did you learn to make bows?"
"It is something that Lavas has been teaching me. He is one of the wood elves that has come to live here." She laughed. "He says that if I'm willing to give it a century of practice that I might get good at it."
Miasma smiled at that, and held the weapon at arms length, testing the balance. "I'm not sure if you need a full century. This looks as if it will be a fine bow."
"Fine but not extraordinary. Lavas says that fine is only the beginning for a serious craftsman."
"I suppose that is so." Miasma handed the bow back to Linda.
Linda ran her fingers across the wood, as if searching the wood for something. She took the knife and carved a piece of wood away.
"Linda," Miasma paused, not at all certain how to say what she wanted, "did you ever wish that I was around more?"
Her hands on the bow stilled for a moment, and when she cut again the small knife went deep into the wood. Miasma could not be certain, but she thought that Linda had cut far deeper than she had intended, and that little action told her far more than anything else might.
"Well, of course, when I was younger," Linda said lightly. "But I know that everything that you had to do was important. It would be selfish of me if I grudged you that."
Miasma felt as if her heart had risen up in her throat, and she wondered if she might start crying.
"And you were always there when I needed you," Linda said.
Miasma nodded, but she no longer thought that was the truth.
"I'm proud of you. Every story I've heard of you, it makes me feel so proud to be your daughter." Linda put the bow aside and then reached forward and grasped Miasma's hands in hers. "Mother, I love you."
Miasma could feel tears in her eyes. "I love you too Linda. You have to believe that."
Linda reached forward and lightly brushed the tears from Miasma's eyes. "I know."
Miasma wanted to tell her that she would stay, she wanted to say that Rowan would handle whatever Ashrams was, or if not, then it was not her concern. Staying with Linda, in their home, was far more important. And it was, but only to them.
"You know," Linda said, and she smiled and laughed, "I suppose that I am a little jealous of all those people you helped."
Miasma reached up and gently ran her hand over Linden's hair. "Don't be."
"I'll try," she said, and laughed again, as if it were a joke.
Miasma was careful to smile back, to keep her expression light.
Linda did not hate her, was not angry with her, though Miasma thought she should be. She directed her anger towards those that had made her leave. It was a small thing now, but it would grow, and who knew what would blossom from such a thing.
It would be so much easier to Linda directed her anger at me, Miasma thought. That I could deal with.
Later, after Linda had left for a moonrise ceremony, Miasma wandered around the house, looking at things. For a time she wandered about Linden's room, touching things on shelves, wondering at some of the items she saw there. What part of Linden's life did the small carving of a unicorn represent? Who had given her the silver-cloth cloak?
She left the room, wandered throughout the other rooms. It was far too big for only two people. How must it seem for one? There was a glass paned cabinet along one of the walls, displayed within a collection of small treasures that had come from various quests and adventures. Miasma stopped in front of it and opened the doors. She reached in, shifting some things aside, and removed a silver ring.
It shone in the faint illumination of a mage-light; no tarnish marred it, though it had been many years since Miasma had placed into the cabinet. On the top of the ring was carved the symbol of Try, inlaid with gold.
Seventy years ago she had been given it. She recalled the words of the priest who had presented it to her. 'You may follow a different god, but your actions would do honor to any Paladin of our church.'
At the time that had made Miasma feel proud.
She slipped the ring onto her finger. The metal was cold.
The one Inn at Billiard, The Watchful Knight, was rough place built of logs, cold and draughty. Rowan sat at a table, drinking a passable ale, feeling that with only a little work that Archer, the Inn's owner, might make something decent of the place.
Balconies looked down on the main hall, and two upper floors of rooms ringed it, giving it a sense of great space. Seal up all the cracks, get some dwarves to panel the rough walls with wood and stone, a better quality of beer, and it would have been a pleasant place to spend time.
As it was it The Watchful Knight was simply the only place to spend time. Billiard, a small, tree-cloaked village, offered little else of interest.
She had ridden quickly as she could to Billiard, but Miasma was not present, nor had she passed through the village. It was likely the elf was still off on her mission to find out more information. Rowan had decided to wait a tended at the Inn; and then, if Miasma had not shown, she would travel to Waterside and continue the investigation on her own.
She did not regret the time, only the place she spent it in, for it would do Alpaca some good.
The Halfling woman had asked to travel with Rowan once she was well; potions and spells having undone the physical damage that the giants had caused. What they had not done was help her get over the deeper scars left upon her psyche.
The gregarious woman she had met at the Maiden's Rest had become quiet, uncertain. She had lost most of her friends and was in the middle of a land she had come to fear. It was not a situation that Rowan herself had experienced, Suns grant that she never would, but she had seen it before.
The journey might help Alpaca, or at least take her to some haven where she might recover. Rowan thought that Waterside might offer such a haven. So now she traveled with the Halfling that she had likely fallen in love with, or at least had a strong infatuation for. Such feelings were not uncommon for the Paladin of Suns, and she did not bother fighting them. And if Alpaca could not return that love, well, a warm friendship would be enough.
The Halfling was seated across from her, but her attention was on the far side of the hall where a musician played a dulcimer and sang an old ballad about a fallen warrior and the love he left behind. Then, as if aware she was being watched, she turned to look Rowan in the eyes.
"A pretty song," Rowan said, not looking away.
"But sad," Alpaca answered.
"They often are." Rowan smiled and looked over the Halfling shoulder at the musician. "I do not think he has known true love or he might sing it differently."
"A guess, or the word of a servant of Suns?" she asked-present in her voice a humor that had been lacking of late.
"Perhaps a little of both."
"How did you become a Paladin?"
Rowan said nothing for a moment, considering the question. "It is not a very interesting story. Do you really want to hear it?"
"Yes."
"Well, my mother was a worshipper of Suns, father paid lip service to her, but he truly worshipped Chanted. This is not really important, but it plays a part in the story."
Alpaca nodded.
"I was a very attractive child, mother was quite proud of that. Beautiful, red hair, she was certain that I had the favor of Suns, and so I was kept from much of the work on the farm. Digging in the dirt was hardly a proper task for me, or so my mother thought. I personally wanted to work with my brothers and sisters; it always looked like they were having fun.
"When I was just a little over nine summers old my mother introduced me to a visiting priestess. Betray, the priestess, thought that I should go to the temple of Suns at Ethical, to study and serve the goddess. My mother was overjoyed, and for father it was a chance to get rid of a child who did not do any work." Rowan laughed softly. "Years later I made certain to send him a small fortune in gold and silver so he might remember me fondly.
"In the temple I started my studies, working with the other acolytes, my mother would have been cannibalized to see me working so hard, but I enjoyed it. I was a very active child, and I loved running and playing and even fighting, when it came down to it, with the other children. The temple did not change that, and it was noticed. Rosella, who was the head of Acolytes, saw that, and it was decided that I was not one who would be happy as a temple priestess, but would do better as a warrior priestess, protecting the faith.
"During those studies I came to the attention of Someone Westward, a visiting Paladin. He said that I had the calling to join Sun's Paladins. Not long afterwards he took me to Waterside, to study at the temple there.
"He was right, I did have the calling. There were many tests of course, and the training of a Paladin is a long and difficult path, but for those that truly do have the calling it is challenging, not impossible. For those without the calling," Rowan raised her shoulders and let them fall, "they find other ways to serve the church.
"And that is it, without going into the details of me crying myself to sleep after a particularly difficult challenge." She smiled, picked up her mug and took a drink.
Alpaca picked up her own mug, using both hands, and lifted it to her lips. Rowan watched her, considered the danger in the question she wanted to ask, and decided to ask it anyway.
"How did you take up the mantle of an adventurer?" she asked.
Alpaca seemed to grow stiff, and she slowly lowered her mug to the tabletop. Rowan worried that she might have asked the question too soon. A moment later Alpaca said, "It is because of a flying, clockwork boat."
Rowan considered those words for a moment, decided that she had heard them right, and then said, "What?"
Smiling, Alpaca leaned back in her chair. "I wanted to fund the construction of a flying, clockwork boat. You see, I'm from Lankan, originally. Several years ago some gnome acquaintances of mine showed me the plans they had for a flying boat. They needed funds to construct it; I had talents that could earn a great deal of money."
A thoughtful look appeared on Alpaca's face. "Last letter I received from Kroger was asking for more money. That was the reason I agreed to start dealing with giants."
While Rowan wanted to know more about what had happened to Alpaca, she did not ask. The set of the Halfling shoulders told her that she did not want to say anything else.
"Do you want another drink?" Rowan said as she got to her feet.
Alpaca nodded, but said nothing else.
Lima lay under the camouflaged blind, staring down at the Billiard, watching as the people began to settle in for the night. The two women he had been tracking had arrived the day before and appeared content to wait. Obviously they were waiting for someone. Billiard had nothing else to offer the two. He was certain that they were waiting for the elf Paladin.
He wanted to remain where he was, to wait and be certain that he could catch the elf when she came. He also needed to go to Deepened and see to Papilla. There had been no trail left. Either Papilla had not caught her or he had already killed her. Either way Lima had to know.
"I want you to stay here," he said to Shish. "Watch, follow if you have to."
"I will," she said from his side.
He nodded, knowing that Shish would do as he said. He pushed himself out from under the cover of the blind, looked about to make certain that there were no threats, and then he shifted, becoming a red tiger. He swung his huge head back and forth, using his sharper senses to again take stock of the area. A moment later he set off, running towards the High Forest.
Lima had a number of magical items, ones that he could use in any of the forms he might take. The dark bands of fur around his legs were bands of leather -worn around his ankles and wrists-in his human form. They allowed him to move faster than any horse, and on straight paths he could easily pace swift flying eagles.
When the sun began to rise many hours later he was already under the canopy of the High Forest, near the hidden glade that was called Deepened. He stalked through the underbrush, his dark red coat giving him a surprising amount of camouflage in the deep shadows of the forest.
He stopped, listening, breathing in deeply to bring the scents of the forest into his mouth. Then he returned to his human shape and started walking forward. Within seconds a pair of black wolves had appeared in front of him, barring his way.
"I am here to speak with Across. I am Lima, also called Stealth's."
The wolves looked at him for a few seconds, then at each other. A moment later one moved back into the thick, forest brush while the other turned and started towards Deepened. Lima returned to tiger form and followed.
The sun was only a little higher in the sky when the wolf entered the open area that was Deepened. A small river plunged over a rocky cliff; the water had carved a deep pool at the waterfall's base. There was less ground cover in the area, but it was not cleared. There were a large number of wolves, some lounging by the river, others sleeping in the large hollow behind the waterfall, and a few on two legs, doing things that a pair of hands was needed for.
Lima shifted to his human form, standing on the edge of the glade, waiting for Across.
The wolf that had led him there continued on, leaping across a set of stones, and moving behind the curtain of water. A short time passed, during which several wolves padded closer to him, taking measure of him. He said nothing; he was a guest there, and not an entirely welcome one.
"No, she won't."
"She's such a wonderful girl."
"Linda will lead the way," Vials said cryptically.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"In her I see one who might allow those dark elves who seek peaceful coexistence to live with the other people of Faerie. Others have started the process, but she will be important in continuing it."
"Her shoulders are too slim, and she is not strong enough for you to place that burden on her back," Miasma said, a hint of tears in her voice.
"You do not know your daughter as well as you should. Sadly, she is very much like you."
"Sadly?"
"Do you remember when you first came here?"
"Of course, but what..."
"You were so frightened, we could all see it," Vials said, interrupting Miasma. "Everyone else assumed that you were afraid of us, of the drop, but that was not it. You were wary of us of course, not surprising considering what had happened, and the thousands of years of hatred between our people, but you were not afraid of us. What you did fear was failure, that you would not accomplish the task that you had been sent to."
Vials turned her blind eyes towards Linda. "Your daughter is like you in that. She fears nothing but that she might fail. She is trying to be like you."
"That will not guarantee her a happy life," Miasma said, and wiped at her eyes. "Quite the opposite really."
"She will have to fight for any happiness she has, like you. And yet you are as content in your lot."
"Do you really think that?" Miasma asked.
Vials was silent for a moment. "Something concerns you."
Miasma nodded. "Yes. I am having doubts."
"There is nothing wrong with having doubts. We all have them at times. Tell me about them."
Miasma watched Linda and the others for a time, saying nothing, then she told Vials about the dragon she had killed a few days before. Vials listened, not saying anything until Miasma finished.
"So, you feel bad about killing this dragon," Vials said.
"Not bad," Miasma paused, "perhaps forced might be the best way to describe it."
Vials leaned back, turning her blind eyes towards the canopy above. "Have you ever asked yourself about the price of your calling?"
"Many times, especially as of late," Miasma said, a little surprised that she admitted it.
"I have wondered about it myself. Tell me, why have you left here so often?"
"Because I had to," Miasma told her. "There was evil that needed to be fought."
"There is plenty of evil to be found in this forest."
"You are more than capable of handling that," Miasma said, and laughed.
Vials turned to look at Miasma. She did not smile. "Would you like me to tell you the price I have seen you pay?"
"Yes," Miasma said, though part of her wanted to say 'no'.
"Your daughter. Your wanderings as a Knight Errant have cost you the chance to truly know Linda, and to put any doubts that you might have about her behind you."
"That's not fair."
Vials laughed. "Fair? Fair is a word children use. Even Linda does not ask for things to be fair any longer. Things are the way they are Miasma. Perhaps if you had not been off, playing Paladin, you might have learned that."
Miasma felt as if she had been slapped.
"You are a good person. You are a strong warrior. You are even my friend. You have been a bad mother in so many ways, and that, in my opinion, is far more important than the others. If you are beginning to have doubts about your choices, well, all I can say about that is good, and that I wish you had had them seventy years earlier."
It was not the answer that Miasma wanted to hear, and she was afraid to ask another questions of Vials, but she did not let the fear stop her. "What should I do?"
Vials got to her feet. "I don't know." She looked down at Miasma and smiled sadly. "You have to make a choice. You know that."
Miasma nodded.
"Remember Miasma, this is your home, by your own choice. Start thinking of it that way."
Miasma knelt on a cushion in her home, a clay cup, filled with cooling tea, by her side. Her thoughts were on what Vials had told her. Of what Wesleyan had said to her. Of prayers unanswered. They were on Linda.
She looked up, to where Linda sat on a window bench, staring up at the darkening sky. The first stars of the evening would be appearing. Across her daughter's knees was the beginning of a longbow that she shaped with knife and file. The movement of Linden's hands were deft and certain, though she did not look at what she did.
Miasma got to her feet and walked over to where Linda worked. Linda turned towards her and smiled. "It is going to be a beautiful night," she said.
Miasma sat down beside her and reached out to take the bow from her hands. "When did you learn to make bows?"
"It is something that Lavas has been teaching me. He is one of the wood elves that has come to live here." She laughed. "He says that if I'm willing to give it a century of practice that I might get good at it."
Miasma smiled at that, and held the weapon at arms length, testing the balance. "I'm not sure if you need a full century. This looks as if it will be a fine bow."
"Fine but not extraordinary. Lavas says that fine is only the beginning for a serious craftsman."
"I suppose that is so." Miasma handed the bow back to Linda.
Linda ran her fingers across the wood, as if searching the wood for something. She took the knife and carved a piece of wood away.
"Linda," Miasma paused, not at all certain how to say what she wanted, "did you ever wish that I was around more?"
Her hands on the bow stilled for a moment, and when she cut again the small knife went deep into the wood. Miasma could not be certain, but she thought that Linda had cut far deeper than she had intended, and that little action told her far more than anything else might.
"Well, of course, when I was younger," Linda said lightly. "But I know that everything that you had to do was important. It would be selfish of me if I grudged you that."
Miasma felt as if her heart had risen up in her throat, and she wondered if she might start crying.
"And you were always there when I needed you," Linda said.
Miasma nodded, but she no longer thought that was the truth.
"I'm proud of you. Every story I've heard of you, it makes me feel so proud to be your daughter." Linda put the bow aside and then reached forward and grasped Miasma's hands in hers. "Mother, I love you."
Miasma could feel tears in her eyes. "I love you too Linda. You have to believe that."
Linda reached forward and lightly brushed the tears from Miasma's eyes. "I know."
Miasma wanted to tell her that she would stay, she wanted to say that Rowan would handle whatever Ashrams was, or if not, then it was not her concern. Staying with Linda, in their home, was far more important. And it was, but only to them.
"You know," Linda said, and she smiled and laughed, "I suppose that I am a little jealous of all those people you helped."
Miasma reached up and gently ran her hand over Linden's hair. "Don't be."
"I'll try," she said, and laughed again, as if it were a joke.
Miasma was careful to smile back, to keep her expression light.
Linda did not hate her, was not angry with her, though Miasma thought she should be. She directed her anger towards those that had made her leave. It was a small thing now, but it would grow, and who knew what would blossom from such a thing.
It would be so much easier to Linda directed her anger at me, Miasma thought. That I could deal with.
Later, after Linda had left for a moonrise ceremony, Miasma wandered around the house, looking at things. For a time she wandered about Linden's room, touching things on shelves, wondering at some of the items she saw there. What part of Linden's life did the small carving of a unicorn represent? Who had given her the silver-cloth cloak?
She left the room, wandered throughout the other rooms. It was far too big for only two people. How must it seem for one? There was a glass paned cabinet along one of the walls, displayed within a collection of small treasures that had come from various quests and adventures. Miasma stopped in front of it and opened the doors. She reached in, shifting some things aside, and removed a silver ring.
It shone in the faint illumination of a mage-light; no tarnish marred it, though it had been many years since Miasma had placed into the cabinet. On the top of the ring was carved the symbol of Try, inlaid with gold.
Seventy years ago she had been given it. She recalled the words of the priest who had presented it to her. 'You may follow a different god, but your actions would do honor to any Paladin of our church.'
At the time that had made Miasma feel proud.
She slipped the ring onto her finger. The metal was cold.
The one Inn at Billiard, The Watchful Knight, was rough place built of logs, cold and draughty. Rowan sat at a table, drinking a passable ale, feeling that with only a little work that Archer, the Inn's owner, might make something decent of the place.
Balconies looked down on the main hall, and two upper floors of rooms ringed it, giving it a sense of great space. Seal up all the cracks, get some dwarves to panel the rough walls with wood and stone, a better quality of beer, and it would have been a pleasant place to spend time.
As it was it The Watchful Knight was simply the only place to spend time. Billiard, a small, tree-cloaked village, offered little else of interest.
She had ridden quickly as she could to Billiard, but Miasma was not present, nor had she passed through the village. It was likely the elf was still off on her mission to find out more information. Rowan had decided to wait a tended at the Inn; and then, if Miasma had not shown, she would travel to Waterside and continue the investigation on her own.
She did not regret the time, only the place she spent it in, for it would do Alpaca some good.
The Halfling woman had asked to travel with Rowan once she was well; potions and spells having undone the physical damage that the giants had caused. What they had not done was help her get over the deeper scars left upon her psyche.
The gregarious woman she had met at the Maiden's Rest had become quiet, uncertain. She had lost most of her friends and was in the middle of a land she had come to fear. It was not a situation that Rowan herself had experienced, Suns grant that she never would, but she had seen it before.
The journey might help Alpaca, or at least take her to some haven where she might recover. Rowan thought that Waterside might offer such a haven. So now she traveled with the Halfling that she had likely fallen in love with, or at least had a strong infatuation for. Such feelings were not uncommon for the Paladin of Suns, and she did not bother fighting them. And if Alpaca could not return that love, well, a warm friendship would be enough.
The Halfling was seated across from her, but her attention was on the far side of the hall where a musician played a dulcimer and sang an old ballad about a fallen warrior and the love he left behind. Then, as if aware she was being watched, she turned to look Rowan in the eyes.
"A pretty song," Rowan said, not looking away.
"But sad," Alpaca answered.
"They often are." Rowan smiled and looked over the Halfling shoulder at the musician. "I do not think he has known true love or he might sing it differently."
"A guess, or the word of a servant of Suns?" she asked-present in her voice a humor that had been lacking of late.
"Perhaps a little of both."
"How did you become a Paladin?"
Rowan said nothing for a moment, considering the question. "It is not a very interesting story. Do you really want to hear it?"
"Yes."
"Well, my mother was a worshipper of Suns, father paid lip service to her, but he truly worshipped Chanted. This is not really important, but it plays a part in the story."
Alpaca nodded.
"I was a very attractive child, mother was quite proud of that. Beautiful, red hair, she was certain that I had the favor of Suns, and so I was kept from much of the work on the farm. Digging in the dirt was hardly a proper task for me, or so my mother thought. I personally wanted to work with my brothers and sisters; it always looked like they were having fun.
"When I was just a little over nine summers old my mother introduced me to a visiting priestess. Betray, the priestess, thought that I should go to the temple of Suns at Ethical, to study and serve the goddess. My mother was overjoyed, and for father it was a chance to get rid of a child who did not do any work." Rowan laughed softly. "Years later I made certain to send him a small fortune in gold and silver so he might remember me fondly.
"In the temple I started my studies, working with the other acolytes, my mother would have been cannibalized to see me working so hard, but I enjoyed it. I was a very active child, and I loved running and playing and even fighting, when it came down to it, with the other children. The temple did not change that, and it was noticed. Rosella, who was the head of Acolytes, saw that, and it was decided that I was not one who would be happy as a temple priestess, but would do better as a warrior priestess, protecting the faith.
"During those studies I came to the attention of Someone Westward, a visiting Paladin. He said that I had the calling to join Sun's Paladins. Not long afterwards he took me to Waterside, to study at the temple there.
"He was right, I did have the calling. There were many tests of course, and the training of a Paladin is a long and difficult path, but for those that truly do have the calling it is challenging, not impossible. For those without the calling," Rowan raised her shoulders and let them fall, "they find other ways to serve the church.
"And that is it, without going into the details of me crying myself to sleep after a particularly difficult challenge." She smiled, picked up her mug and took a drink.
Alpaca picked up her own mug, using both hands, and lifted it to her lips. Rowan watched her, considered the danger in the question she wanted to ask, and decided to ask it anyway.
"How did you take up the mantle of an adventurer?" she asked.
Alpaca seemed to grow stiff, and she slowly lowered her mug to the tabletop. Rowan worried that she might have asked the question too soon. A moment later Alpaca said, "It is because of a flying, clockwork boat."
Rowan considered those words for a moment, decided that she had heard them right, and then said, "What?"
Smiling, Alpaca leaned back in her chair. "I wanted to fund the construction of a flying, clockwork boat. You see, I'm from Lankan, originally. Several years ago some gnome acquaintances of mine showed me the plans they had for a flying boat. They needed funds to construct it; I had talents that could earn a great deal of money."
A thoughtful look appeared on Alpaca's face. "Last letter I received from Kroger was asking for more money. That was the reason I agreed to start dealing with giants."
While Rowan wanted to know more about what had happened to Alpaca, she did not ask. The set of the Halfling shoulders told her that she did not want to say anything else.
"Do you want another drink?" Rowan said as she got to her feet.
Alpaca nodded, but said nothing else.
Lima lay under the camouflaged blind, staring down at the Billiard, watching as the people began to settle in for the night. The two women he had been tracking had arrived the day before and appeared content to wait. Obviously they were waiting for someone. Billiard had nothing else to offer the two. He was certain that they were waiting for the elf Paladin.
He wanted to remain where he was, to wait and be certain that he could catch the elf when she came. He also needed to go to Deepened and see to Papilla. There had been no trail left. Either Papilla had not caught her or he had already killed her. Either way Lima had to know.
"I want you to stay here," he said to Shish. "Watch, follow if you have to."
"I will," she said from his side.
He nodded, knowing that Shish would do as he said. He pushed himself out from under the cover of the blind, looked about to make certain that there were no threats, and then he shifted, becoming a red tiger. He swung his huge head back and forth, using his sharper senses to again take stock of the area. A moment later he set off, running towards the High Forest.
Lima had a number of magical items, ones that he could use in any of the forms he might take. The dark bands of fur around his legs were bands of leather -worn around his ankles and wrists-in his human form. They allowed him to move faster than any horse, and on straight paths he could easily pace swift flying eagles.
When the sun began to rise many hours later he was already under the canopy of the High Forest, near the hidden glade that was called Deepened. He stalked through the underbrush, his dark red coat giving him a surprising amount of camouflage in the deep shadows of the forest.
He stopped, listening, breathing in deeply to bring the scents of the forest into his mouth. Then he returned to his human shape and started walking forward. Within seconds a pair of black wolves had appeared in front of him, barring his way.
"I am here to speak with Across. I am Lima, also called Stealth's."
The wolves looked at him for a few seconds, then at each other. A moment later one moved back into the thick, forest brush while the other turned and started towards Deepened. Lima returned to tiger form and followed.
The sun was only a little higher in the sky when the wolf entered the open area that was Deepened. A small river plunged over a rocky cliff; the water had carved a deep pool at the waterfall's base. There was less ground cover in the area, but it was not cleared. There were a large number of wolves, some lounging by the river, others sleeping in the large hollow behind the waterfall, and a few on two legs, doing things that a pair of hands was needed for.
Lima shifted to his human form, standing on the edge of the glade, waiting for Across.
The wolf that had led him there continued on, leaping across a set of stones, and moving behind the curtain of water. A short time passed, during which several wolves padded closer to him, taking measure of him. He said nothing; he was a guest there, and not an entirely welcome one.
