Scatterstone - Part 4
Feb. 18th, 2013 02:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bloodyrosemccoyPart 1 also has an index!
Even if it's in character, it always bugs me when somebody tells a recently traumatized character "Don't think about [your recent trauma]." It is completely unhelpful.
Of course, with the lack of licensed therapists in most Standard Fantasyland trade caravans, I can sort of see where they wouldn't feel they had a lot of options.
For a shortish installment, this sure took a while to lay out. Still not sure why, but I'm eager to get going on the next installment. Largo's getting behind on real adventure. It's almost time for him to catch up on that front.
---
Thunder cracked around him. Thunder, and fire, and more thunder. Through it, amidst the orgiastic whirl of flame and demons and ear-blasting thunder, Largo clawed his way to an indisputable truth.
Nolly was in trouble.
He struggled out from beneath his old blanket, barely noticing the sudden gravelly give of the stone shelf beneath him. It was dark in the cave. For a moment he was lost--then he realized that the whole chamber had shifted. The walls seemed to be closer than they'd been when he'd nodded off. The cave had shifted.
When he realized that, he got his bearings quickly enough. There was no time to lose. Nolly needed him.
He squeezed out the exit into the rainy night, his mind racing. He no longer questioned the truth of his dreams. He hoped this one was a premonition--for if Nolly had been attacked by sorcerers' familiars already, there was no way to reach her now. But even if that was the case, it hardly mattered. Nolly was in trouble, and he had to find her, no matter how long it took.
He tore through muddy woods and over soggy fields. The Blackstone hole was dark; only one round window showed any light. He realized he had no idea what time it was.
He burst in the front door. The fire was burning low in the parlor, but no one was about. Not that late, then--the family might be out visiting. Well, he couldn't wait for them.
With the memory of the flaming demons driving him, he found his travel gear in the closet. The usual camping items seemed to be all set. What else did he need? Heedless of the rainwater he was dripping everywhere, he took the pack around the house, stuffing in things he would use on the road.
He was just emerging from a last raid on the kitchen when a tiny voice called, "What's going on?"
Largo stopped cold.
His sister, Tink, had not been feeling well that day. She'd been resting on a couch near the fireplace since midmorning. Now her sleepy eyes peered at him from the depths of a large coverlet.
"Largo? What's the matter?" she asked.
A twinge caught him. He'd been avoiding the thought that he wouldn't be able to leave word of his departure with his family. He couldn't wait for them--he had to get going as soon as possible.
And anyway, he knew that saying good-bye would make leaving far more difficult.
But he had to go. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I'm going after Nolly."
"Oh," Tink said. "Don't forget your coat."
And she rolled over and began to doze again.
Largo stared at her for a long moment. Then the memory of the sorcerous fire leaping at his wayward friend intruded again. He took his warm coat down from its peg, suddenly aware that he was soaked through.
No matter. He was about to get wet again, anyway.
With one last glance at Tink, he stepped back into the rainy night and turned resolutely southward.
Nolly was in trouble. And he might not be much use against trolls or sorcery, but one thing was certain: he would not leave her to face it alone.
#
After a panicked flight, a return to sense that guided her to seek a way out of the woods, and a brief indulgence in a fit of despairing sobs, Nolly sat down on a boulder at the border where the woods met the fairground and considered her options.
In some strange way, she was indebted to Zorna. It would have been easy to fall into a shocked stupor after witnessing her friend casually murdering someone. But when Zorna set those fire monsters on her, she had to run, or get bitten by the flaming jaws of terrible magic. At first, the panic staved off the shock.
Then, as the panic faded, it was replaced by a growing sense of indignation.
What the blazes was Zorna thinking? Here was some nasty troll of a huntsman, threatening exposure of Fyan secrets, extorting gold, and undressing her student with his eyes, and the old woman had nothing to say about it? But along comes Nolly, who only meant to help them, and suddenly it's appropriate to unleash all the demons of hell! Just because she'd seen something that might be a secret!
Well, they could keep their silly secrets--their disguised daggers, deadly dances, herbalists who were witches, and even the unexplained dead bodies, those were their problems. If they didn't want her around, she didn't need to trouble herself with them any more.
That was settled, then.
She scrubbed her eyes once more. Then, drawing in a deep breath, she hopped off the boulder. With a final straightening of her cloak, she strode toward the collection of watery lights that marked the fair itself.
The work continued. Tents were up, shedding rainwater from their oiled canvas roofs. Nolly looked at them wistfully, but went on to the wagon that had been her home on the road for what suddenly seemed like a very long time.
There was no sign of Ivan, but Zeia was sitting under the awning. She had wrapped herself in a large brown blanket and clutched a steaming mug of something with both hands. Her eyes were fixed on some phantom of the middle distance. When Nolly stepped into the circle of lantern light, Zeia looked at her--but her face remained devoid of expression.
It took Nolly a couple of tries to get her voice working.
"I've come to collect my things," she said when she could.
Zeia blinked slowly.
"It's obvious I'm not welcome here anymore," Nolly went on in a rush. "So I'll not trouble you further. I'll be wanting my pack."
Zeia looked at her uncertainly.
"I won't say anything about--about anything," Nolly added. "I'm going on because I don't want to wait around for another fair to be over. That's all I'll say."
Those dark eyes regarded her thoughtfully. Then Zeia nodded and turned to the wagon.
Oh, well, Nolly thought. As long as she'd gone this far ... "I'll also take half my matches," she finished. "The deal was the full case for passage to Saint Verdaine. We're halfway there, are we not?"
Zeia reemerged with the requested items. "We are."
As she set about dividing the matches, she seemed to work herself up before speaking again. "What will you do now?"
Nolly bit her lip. That question had been gnawing at her since she'd decided to leave the caravan.
Two weeks ago she'd struck out to see the world. So far she'd seen a number of bigfolk villages, some woodland and fields, and a great deal of the inside of a wagon. She'd gotten a few juggling lessons from Zam, heard a few stories, and seen one baffling example of magic.
It wasn't enough.
"I'm going on," she said. "I'll find room in an inn in town tonight. Tomorrow I'll set out for Saint Verdaine."
Zeia looked away. "Oh."
"And after that, who knows?" Nolly plunged on recklessly. "Maybe off to Chadrafun. And then beyond! I'll see the lighted-up island of sprites, the crystal desert, the spiral cities of the nagas--"
She broke off. Her enthusiasm felt a bit hollow. She still meant to see the world, but it hurt to leave friends on bitter terms to do it.
Finally Zeia handed her the match case. Nolly sighed and tucked it into the top of the pack. Shouldering it, she looked up and swallowed the lump in her throat. "So. I have things to do."
"Good fortune go with you," Zeia murmured.
Nolly gulped back tears. "Goodbye."
She turned toward the road.
"Nolly."
She stopped, looking over her shoulder.
Zeia's stony expression melted. Suddenly she looked lost, small, and vulnerable.
"I had to," she said helplessly.
"I know," Nolly said.
She pulled up her hood and walked into the rain.
#
All in all, Ivan thought, things had gone rather smoothly. The rain simplified the business at hand, and by the time he'd returned to the fairground there was very little lifting and building left to do. Zorna had still managed to complete her work, and Zeia was unhurt.
Well. Mostly unhurt.
She was still sitting outside the wagon when he emerged from the woods. He signed. She'd had encounters like this once or twice before, but all of the reassurances of Fyan lore that said she'd done the right thing could not make it easier for her.
At least it was Carnival Time. He could sit with her and try to comfort her.
"Zorna all right?" he asked, accepting the towel she offered him.
"Resting," she said. "She worked hard tonight."
"Did she finish the protective spell?"
"Yes. Vazyo has it."
"Good." That was the priority. Yes, Vazyo's job was to form the protective circle around the fair--and to look suitably impressive while doing it--but it was the true Blue Star mage who first imbued with protective magic the mixture of herbs and powders he used to draw it.
"Did it ... go all right?" Zeia asked hesitantly.
"Just fine." This drill was not frequent, but it was not unheard-of. Ivan and a few of the others had followed Zeia's directions--and a few discreet signs she'd left--to the huntsman's body. They'd quickly divested the man of everything worth stealing, and then they'd lifted the heavy carcass to carry it toward the road.
All but Ivan. While the others muddied the trail, he himself took the loot deep into the woods--and buried it.
None of them would use something taken from a man killed by a Fyan woman's secret knives. A curse lay upon such ill-gotten goods. But if they were to make it look like the unpleasant lug had been beset by highway robbers, rather than a Fyan defending herself, it would be rather hard to explain if they'd left his stealable effects with him.
"It should work well," he assured her. "Famborri says the fair here always attracts some brigands. They'll think he's just another casualty. I'm just glad you had your knives."
"Me, too," she agreed. But she shuddered.
Putting a hand on the blanket over her shoulder, Ivan smiled gently. "Don't think about it. It's over now. It's all come out all right."
"No, it hasn't," she said sadly. "Nolly's gone."
He jerked his hand back. "What?"
Zeia continued to stare at her feet. "She was in the woods. She--saw."
A horror--a horror learned over a lifetime of secrecy--seized his heart. "She--oh, no."
"Zorna sent the firesnappers after her."
Another horror--far more personal than the cultural fear of discovery--added itself to the his worries. "They didn't catch her?"
"No. She ran."
He sagged with relief. "What was Zorna doing conjuring snappers?"
"She always has them ready when we're doing magic. If I'd missed with my knives, she'd have sent them after--him."
"I--oh." Ivan resolutely did not think about what else could have happened if Zeia had missed with her knives.
"Then she came back."
He was not done being surprised, it seemed.
Zeia briefly explained Nolly's departure. "She said she wouldn't tell our secrets. I suppose Zorna will be angry with me. She's an outsider, and she knows too much."
He frowned. "This is Nolly we're talking about."
"I know. That's why I agreed. She's gone into town."
His eyes widened. "She's going on?"
"She wants to see the world."
"Huh." He was impressed in spite of himself.
Zeia was troubled, though. "Famborri said there are a lot of bandits around here?"
"He said there's always been trouble near Wellen's Cross. And he saw a few figures lurking on the road a ways north. I don't think the crown's soldiers are keeping the roads as clear as they might."
"They might stay in on account of the rain."
"Your friend back there didn't."
She kicked a toe at the ground. "Someone traveling alone could get into a lot of trouble."
"That'd take care of Zorna's worries," Ivan said. "Dead lasses don't tell many secrets."
Zeia stood and cast the blanket aside. "It would certainly solve a lot of problems. And the safety of our people does come first."
Ivan put his towel back. "Yes. Our glorious people would certainly deserve protection after throwing a hobbit maid to the ravening wolves of the world."
"It's our duty. Nobody could fault us for that."
"Not at all."
They were moving together now, quickly, heading toward the pens where they kept their beasts of burden.
"How long ago did she leave?" Ivan asked, wincing as the rain hit him again.
"About half an hour."
"And how far is it into town?"
"About four miles."
"How do you feel about a brisk ride on a cold, dark, rainy Carnival night?"
They were almost running now.
"You know," Zeia said, "I was just about to suggest the same thing."
#
Nolly was almost to the streets of Wellen's Cross when she heard hoofbeats on the road behind her.
Belatedly she realized that it might not be friendly riders. But there was no way to hide now. She stood aside, hoping they'd just pass her by.
But the figures that emerged from the rain were familiar. Ivan's mules, Scoff and Scorn, were clearly unhappy with the pace they were making and the rain and, it seemed, the world in general.
Pulling up next to her, Zeia dismounted Scoff. A moment later, Ivan joined her.
Nolly watched them, keeping her face neutral even as her heart began to race.
"Here's our offer," Zeia said without preamble. "You have seen things forbidden to outsiders. While you have promised to keep them secret, we have no real assurance of your silence."
Nolly opened her mouth to snap that she had no intention of revealing their silly secrets even if she understood what she'd seen. But behind his sister, Ivan held up a hand. A tiny smile played on his face.
"However," Zeia went on, "the silence of a Fyan is assured. The Fyan are bound to keep their own secrets under pain of death."
Nolly stared at her, trying to figure out where she was going.
"Honorary Fyan," Zeia continued, "have the same burden laid upon them. But of course, they only face death if they disclose such secrets. If they do not, there is nothing to worry about. Further, they are accorded the same rights as those born Fyan. They may travel and trade with the caravan that accepts them. They are also fully assured of that caravan's protection on dangerous roads."
She stopped, waiting for Nolly to answer.
A slow smile began to spread over the hobbit's face. The world, which had seemed overwhelmingly vast and dangerous a moment ago, became suddenly much less monstrous.
"Thank you," she said, meaning it wholeheartedly. "Honorary Fyan? It would be a great privilege."
"It's rare," Zeia agreed. "And the person must prove herself worthy to the elders of the caravan."
"How does she do that?"
"We'll think of something. In the meantime, we can say you're on probation." She held out a hand. "Will you come back?"
Her businesslike demeanor was belied by her eyes. They almost pleaded Nolly to return, to accept both their protection and their trust. Once again, Nolly felt a lump in her throat.
"If you two could hurry along the negotiations," Ivan said pointedly, "I find wet clothes to be extraordinarily uncomfortable."
Nolly laughed and took Zeia's hand.
Zeia's face almost crumbled with relief.
Ivan helped Nolly onto the mule behind Zeia. The hobbit grinned at him. "You must really want the rest of these matches, then."
He grinned back. "Now you're a member of the caravan, you needn't pay. You do the chores, but you can keep the matches."
"Oh." A thought struck her. "Then I offer them to you two as a gift. Let it stand as testament to our friendship."
Zeia laughed. Nolly, her arms around the larger woman's waist for stability, felt tense muscles relax with that moment of merriment.
"She's learning fast," Ivan said. "She'll be a full Fyan by the next carnival."
Still laughing, Zeia kicked at Scoff's flank, starting them back toward the fair.
#
Part 5
Even if it's in character, it always bugs me when somebody tells a recently traumatized character "Don't think about [your recent trauma]." It is completely unhelpful.
Of course, with the lack of licensed therapists in most Standard Fantasyland trade caravans, I can sort of see where they wouldn't feel they had a lot of options.
For a shortish installment, this sure took a while to lay out. Still not sure why, but I'm eager to get going on the next installment. Largo's getting behind on real adventure. It's almost time for him to catch up on that front.
---
Thunder cracked around him. Thunder, and fire, and more thunder. Through it, amidst the orgiastic whirl of flame and demons and ear-blasting thunder, Largo clawed his way to an indisputable truth.
Nolly was in trouble.
He struggled out from beneath his old blanket, barely noticing the sudden gravelly give of the stone shelf beneath him. It was dark in the cave. For a moment he was lost--then he realized that the whole chamber had shifted. The walls seemed to be closer than they'd been when he'd nodded off. The cave had shifted.
When he realized that, he got his bearings quickly enough. There was no time to lose. Nolly needed him.
He squeezed out the exit into the rainy night, his mind racing. He no longer questioned the truth of his dreams. He hoped this one was a premonition--for if Nolly had been attacked by sorcerers' familiars already, there was no way to reach her now. But even if that was the case, it hardly mattered. Nolly was in trouble, and he had to find her, no matter how long it took.
He tore through muddy woods and over soggy fields. The Blackstone hole was dark; only one round window showed any light. He realized he had no idea what time it was.
He burst in the front door. The fire was burning low in the parlor, but no one was about. Not that late, then--the family might be out visiting. Well, he couldn't wait for them.
With the memory of the flaming demons driving him, he found his travel gear in the closet. The usual camping items seemed to be all set. What else did he need? Heedless of the rainwater he was dripping everywhere, he took the pack around the house, stuffing in things he would use on the road.
He was just emerging from a last raid on the kitchen when a tiny voice called, "What's going on?"
Largo stopped cold.
His sister, Tink, had not been feeling well that day. She'd been resting on a couch near the fireplace since midmorning. Now her sleepy eyes peered at him from the depths of a large coverlet.
"Largo? What's the matter?" she asked.
A twinge caught him. He'd been avoiding the thought that he wouldn't be able to leave word of his departure with his family. He couldn't wait for them--he had to get going as soon as possible.
And anyway, he knew that saying good-bye would make leaving far more difficult.
But he had to go. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I'm going after Nolly."
"Oh," Tink said. "Don't forget your coat."
And she rolled over and began to doze again.
Largo stared at her for a long moment. Then the memory of the sorcerous fire leaping at his wayward friend intruded again. He took his warm coat down from its peg, suddenly aware that he was soaked through.
No matter. He was about to get wet again, anyway.
With one last glance at Tink, he stepped back into the rainy night and turned resolutely southward.
Nolly was in trouble. And he might not be much use against trolls or sorcery, but one thing was certain: he would not leave her to face it alone.
#
After a panicked flight, a return to sense that guided her to seek a way out of the woods, and a brief indulgence in a fit of despairing sobs, Nolly sat down on a boulder at the border where the woods met the fairground and considered her options.
In some strange way, she was indebted to Zorna. It would have been easy to fall into a shocked stupor after witnessing her friend casually murdering someone. But when Zorna set those fire monsters on her, she had to run, or get bitten by the flaming jaws of terrible magic. At first, the panic staved off the shock.
Then, as the panic faded, it was replaced by a growing sense of indignation.
What the blazes was Zorna thinking? Here was some nasty troll of a huntsman, threatening exposure of Fyan secrets, extorting gold, and undressing her student with his eyes, and the old woman had nothing to say about it? But along comes Nolly, who only meant to help them, and suddenly it's appropriate to unleash all the demons of hell! Just because she'd seen something that might be a secret!
Well, they could keep their silly secrets--their disguised daggers, deadly dances, herbalists who were witches, and even the unexplained dead bodies, those were their problems. If they didn't want her around, she didn't need to trouble herself with them any more.
That was settled, then.
She scrubbed her eyes once more. Then, drawing in a deep breath, she hopped off the boulder. With a final straightening of her cloak, she strode toward the collection of watery lights that marked the fair itself.
The work continued. Tents were up, shedding rainwater from their oiled canvas roofs. Nolly looked at them wistfully, but went on to the wagon that had been her home on the road for what suddenly seemed like a very long time.
There was no sign of Ivan, but Zeia was sitting under the awning. She had wrapped herself in a large brown blanket and clutched a steaming mug of something with both hands. Her eyes were fixed on some phantom of the middle distance. When Nolly stepped into the circle of lantern light, Zeia looked at her--but her face remained devoid of expression.
It took Nolly a couple of tries to get her voice working.
"I've come to collect my things," she said when she could.
Zeia blinked slowly.
"It's obvious I'm not welcome here anymore," Nolly went on in a rush. "So I'll not trouble you further. I'll be wanting my pack."
Zeia looked at her uncertainly.
"I won't say anything about--about anything," Nolly added. "I'm going on because I don't want to wait around for another fair to be over. That's all I'll say."
Those dark eyes regarded her thoughtfully. Then Zeia nodded and turned to the wagon.
Oh, well, Nolly thought. As long as she'd gone this far ... "I'll also take half my matches," she finished. "The deal was the full case for passage to Saint Verdaine. We're halfway there, are we not?"
Zeia reemerged with the requested items. "We are."
As she set about dividing the matches, she seemed to work herself up before speaking again. "What will you do now?"
Nolly bit her lip. That question had been gnawing at her since she'd decided to leave the caravan.
Two weeks ago she'd struck out to see the world. So far she'd seen a number of bigfolk villages, some woodland and fields, and a great deal of the inside of a wagon. She'd gotten a few juggling lessons from Zam, heard a few stories, and seen one baffling example of magic.
It wasn't enough.
"I'm going on," she said. "I'll find room in an inn in town tonight. Tomorrow I'll set out for Saint Verdaine."
Zeia looked away. "Oh."
"And after that, who knows?" Nolly plunged on recklessly. "Maybe off to Chadrafun. And then beyond! I'll see the lighted-up island of sprites, the crystal desert, the spiral cities of the nagas--"
She broke off. Her enthusiasm felt a bit hollow. She still meant to see the world, but it hurt to leave friends on bitter terms to do it.
Finally Zeia handed her the match case. Nolly sighed and tucked it into the top of the pack. Shouldering it, she looked up and swallowed the lump in her throat. "So. I have things to do."
"Good fortune go with you," Zeia murmured.
Nolly gulped back tears. "Goodbye."
She turned toward the road.
"Nolly."
She stopped, looking over her shoulder.
Zeia's stony expression melted. Suddenly she looked lost, small, and vulnerable.
"I had to," she said helplessly.
"I know," Nolly said.
She pulled up her hood and walked into the rain.
#
All in all, Ivan thought, things had gone rather smoothly. The rain simplified the business at hand, and by the time he'd returned to the fairground there was very little lifting and building left to do. Zorna had still managed to complete her work, and Zeia was unhurt.
Well. Mostly unhurt.
She was still sitting outside the wagon when he emerged from the woods. He signed. She'd had encounters like this once or twice before, but all of the reassurances of Fyan lore that said she'd done the right thing could not make it easier for her.
At least it was Carnival Time. He could sit with her and try to comfort her.
"Zorna all right?" he asked, accepting the towel she offered him.
"Resting," she said. "She worked hard tonight."
"Did she finish the protective spell?"
"Yes. Vazyo has it."
"Good." That was the priority. Yes, Vazyo's job was to form the protective circle around the fair--and to look suitably impressive while doing it--but it was the true Blue Star mage who first imbued with protective magic the mixture of herbs and powders he used to draw it.
"Did it ... go all right?" Zeia asked hesitantly.
"Just fine." This drill was not frequent, but it was not unheard-of. Ivan and a few of the others had followed Zeia's directions--and a few discreet signs she'd left--to the huntsman's body. They'd quickly divested the man of everything worth stealing, and then they'd lifted the heavy carcass to carry it toward the road.
All but Ivan. While the others muddied the trail, he himself took the loot deep into the woods--and buried it.
None of them would use something taken from a man killed by a Fyan woman's secret knives. A curse lay upon such ill-gotten goods. But if they were to make it look like the unpleasant lug had been beset by highway robbers, rather than a Fyan defending herself, it would be rather hard to explain if they'd left his stealable effects with him.
"It should work well," he assured her. "Famborri says the fair here always attracts some brigands. They'll think he's just another casualty. I'm just glad you had your knives."
"Me, too," she agreed. But she shuddered.
Putting a hand on the blanket over her shoulder, Ivan smiled gently. "Don't think about it. It's over now. It's all come out all right."
"No, it hasn't," she said sadly. "Nolly's gone."
He jerked his hand back. "What?"
Zeia continued to stare at her feet. "She was in the woods. She--saw."
A horror--a horror learned over a lifetime of secrecy--seized his heart. "She--oh, no."
"Zorna sent the firesnappers after her."
Another horror--far more personal than the cultural fear of discovery--added itself to the his worries. "They didn't catch her?"
"No. She ran."
He sagged with relief. "What was Zorna doing conjuring snappers?"
"She always has them ready when we're doing magic. If I'd missed with my knives, she'd have sent them after--him."
"I--oh." Ivan resolutely did not think about what else could have happened if Zeia had missed with her knives.
"Then she came back."
He was not done being surprised, it seemed.
Zeia briefly explained Nolly's departure. "She said she wouldn't tell our secrets. I suppose Zorna will be angry with me. She's an outsider, and she knows too much."
He frowned. "This is Nolly we're talking about."
"I know. That's why I agreed. She's gone into town."
His eyes widened. "She's going on?"
"She wants to see the world."
"Huh." He was impressed in spite of himself.
Zeia was troubled, though. "Famborri said there are a lot of bandits around here?"
"He said there's always been trouble near Wellen's Cross. And he saw a few figures lurking on the road a ways north. I don't think the crown's soldiers are keeping the roads as clear as they might."
"They might stay in on account of the rain."
"Your friend back there didn't."
She kicked a toe at the ground. "Someone traveling alone could get into a lot of trouble."
"That'd take care of Zorna's worries," Ivan said. "Dead lasses don't tell many secrets."
Zeia stood and cast the blanket aside. "It would certainly solve a lot of problems. And the safety of our people does come first."
Ivan put his towel back. "Yes. Our glorious people would certainly deserve protection after throwing a hobbit maid to the ravening wolves of the world."
"It's our duty. Nobody could fault us for that."
"Not at all."
They were moving together now, quickly, heading toward the pens where they kept their beasts of burden.
"How long ago did she leave?" Ivan asked, wincing as the rain hit him again.
"About half an hour."
"And how far is it into town?"
"About four miles."
"How do you feel about a brisk ride on a cold, dark, rainy Carnival night?"
They were almost running now.
"You know," Zeia said, "I was just about to suggest the same thing."
#
Nolly was almost to the streets of Wellen's Cross when she heard hoofbeats on the road behind her.
Belatedly she realized that it might not be friendly riders. But there was no way to hide now. She stood aside, hoping they'd just pass her by.
But the figures that emerged from the rain were familiar. Ivan's mules, Scoff and Scorn, were clearly unhappy with the pace they were making and the rain and, it seemed, the world in general.
Pulling up next to her, Zeia dismounted Scoff. A moment later, Ivan joined her.
Nolly watched them, keeping her face neutral even as her heart began to race.
"Here's our offer," Zeia said without preamble. "You have seen things forbidden to outsiders. While you have promised to keep them secret, we have no real assurance of your silence."
Nolly opened her mouth to snap that she had no intention of revealing their silly secrets even if she understood what she'd seen. But behind his sister, Ivan held up a hand. A tiny smile played on his face.
"However," Zeia went on, "the silence of a Fyan is assured. The Fyan are bound to keep their own secrets under pain of death."
Nolly stared at her, trying to figure out where she was going.
"Honorary Fyan," Zeia continued, "have the same burden laid upon them. But of course, they only face death if they disclose such secrets. If they do not, there is nothing to worry about. Further, they are accorded the same rights as those born Fyan. They may travel and trade with the caravan that accepts them. They are also fully assured of that caravan's protection on dangerous roads."
She stopped, waiting for Nolly to answer.
A slow smile began to spread over the hobbit's face. The world, which had seemed overwhelmingly vast and dangerous a moment ago, became suddenly much less monstrous.
"Thank you," she said, meaning it wholeheartedly. "Honorary Fyan? It would be a great privilege."
"It's rare," Zeia agreed. "And the person must prove herself worthy to the elders of the caravan."
"How does she do that?"
"We'll think of something. In the meantime, we can say you're on probation." She held out a hand. "Will you come back?"
Her businesslike demeanor was belied by her eyes. They almost pleaded Nolly to return, to accept both their protection and their trust. Once again, Nolly felt a lump in her throat.
"If you two could hurry along the negotiations," Ivan said pointedly, "I find wet clothes to be extraordinarily uncomfortable."
Nolly laughed and took Zeia's hand.
Zeia's face almost crumbled with relief.
Ivan helped Nolly onto the mule behind Zeia. The hobbit grinned at him. "You must really want the rest of these matches, then."
He grinned back. "Now you're a member of the caravan, you needn't pay. You do the chores, but you can keep the matches."
"Oh." A thought struck her. "Then I offer them to you two as a gift. Let it stand as testament to our friendship."
Zeia laughed. Nolly, her arms around the larger woman's waist for stability, felt tense muscles relax with that moment of merriment.
"She's learning fast," Ivan said. "She'll be a full Fyan by the next carnival."
Still laughing, Zeia kicked at Scoff's flank, starting them back toward the fair.
#
Part 5
