By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) (29 page)

         “Why don’t you answer any of my
questions?” Dirk asked.  He thought for a moment, as the man turned away.  “Is
that what you’re doing?”

         “What?”

         “The fox,” Dirk said.  The man smiled and
smacked Dirk firmly on the back.

         “Drinks!” he called, raising his arm.

         “Answer me,” Dirk pressed, smiling but
his annoyed anxiousness evident.  “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”
he asked, laughing in frustration, wishing to scream to let out his anxiety. 
The man raised his brows again, smiling a broad closed-mouth grin.  Dirk
laughed harder and took two beers off the tray that the girl had brought their
way.  He handed one to the man.  “Well, what shall I call you?” Dirk asked, but
he got no reply:  Cinder walked up and took Dirk’s arm just as the man prepared
to answer.

         “I’m getting lonely, and harassed,” she
said.  “Oh, who’s this?” she asked, seeming just then to notice the tall,
handsome stranger.

         “I don’t know,” Dirk said.  “A friend of
mine, but he won’t tell me his name.”  Dirk waited for him to introduce
himself.

         “What a ravishing temptress,” he said,
bending low and taking Cinder’s hand to his mouth for a kiss.

         “This is Cinder,” Dirk said.  “Cinder,
this is...” he looked at the man, waiting.

         “As you wish,” he said to Dirk.  “Call me
Sindelarius.”  Dirk smiled.

         “Fine.  Cinder, this is Sindelarius,”
Dirk said with satisfaction.  Cinder smiled.

         “That’s a funny name,” she said.  The man
grinned at her as they exchanged a peculiar stare.

         “I forgot.  I have somewhere I need to
be.  If you will excuse me.  We’ll meet again.”  The stranger bowed once more
and left, placing his mug on a nearby table.  Dirk and Cinder watched him leave
and afterwards Dirk spoke.

         “What do you mean his name is funny?” he
asked, knowing the man was up to something strange, or else he would not have
come and left so soon.  He had wanted Dirk to see him, but why, Dirk did not
know.

         “Well...” Cinder paused, wondering many
things herself, “...don’t you know the Elven tongue?”  Dirk made a disgusted
face.  “No, of course you don’t.  Sindelarius is an Elven name.  It’s the
masculine counterpart to Cindelaria.  That’s my name in Elven.  All our words
are usually longer than those in the human languages.  I shortened my name when
I came here.  That’s common for elves to do when dealing with humans. 
Sometimes you have trouble with our extended language.”

         “How does he know you?” Dirk asked.

         “I don’t think he does.  I think he just
knows the language...Elven, I mean.  Come on,” Cinder gasped with a smile,
leading Dirk to a gambling table.

         “Does that mean he’s an elf, then?” Dirk
asked, looking confused, “or a half-elf?”

         “Oh Dirk...” Cinder sighed.  “He has no
more elfin blood in him than you.  Come on,” she giggled, tugging lovingly on
his arm.

         Dirk took off Cinder’s shoes and pulled
the silken sheets up, tucking her in.  Then he kissed her forehead and walked
out the door, just past three bells.  He was nearly home when, passing an
alley, he heard frantic breathing and the click of light heels against the
stones.  Just as he turned to peer into the dark, he caught the glint of steel
coming at him.  Dirk reached out and grabbed the arm; it was cold, clammy,
small.  He looked down; the arm belonged to a pretty but haggard young woman. 
Her red hair was messed, her dress torn and tattered, a wild look of fear was
in her eyes as she kicked and clawed at him.  He held her arms tightly until
she calmed down enough for him to release her safely.  As she looked at him,
her crazed visage passed, her narrow eyes relaxed and she fell into his arms
sobbing and pointing back behind her, the knife she held clattering to the
ground as she released it. 

         Dirk’s initial assessment that the
disheveled girl had escaped Deeter’s Asylum just inside the East Gate quickly
changed.  He pulled out his sword and thrust the girl behind him, his eyes
staring into the shadows.  The young woman pulled on him, whimpering, begging
him not to go into the alley.  Dirk heeded, partly because his confidence was
shaken still from his beating.  Putting his arm around her, he led her away,
her eyes still looking back into the alleyway.

         They reached Bessemer’s, just two blocks
away, and Dirk took the girl up to his room.  He could see, now in the light
that her dress and hose were mere rags draped across her frame.  Much like
Cinder minutes earlier, he removed her shoes and tucked her into his bed, then
went downstairs and found her a simple dress, shoes, and undergarments, all
functional, not fashionable.  He judged by her former garments that she was
most likely a prostitute. 

         When she finished dressing—Dirk’s eyes
closed and his back turned—he spoke to her.  “What happened?” he asked.

         “Deranged client,” she said plainly,
already quite calm, or at least seeming so.  Dirk looked at her, waiting for
more.  The young woman shrugged at his impatience and continued.  “Well, he
came and picked me up and said “Let’s go in an alley” and I says “Why?” and he
says “Because I’m the one with the gold.”  So I went.”

         “That wasn’t smart.” said Dirk.  She
shrugged again.  He could tell she was shaken, but was of strong enough fiber
to hold it within, though her eyes bore a forlorn glaze, like one condemned
without hope or happiness.

         “Maybe, but does it really matter?  You
saved me.  I’m alive.  He’s somewhere else.”  Dirk looked at her:  she seemed
so much like and unlike a prostitute to him all at once.  Though she was harsh,
her eyes were unfocused, as if her mind were somewhere else, not on the soiled
life she lived, doing what she did out of necessity rather than desire.

         “What’s your name?” he asked.

         “Car...Tallow,” the girl said, having
begun to say one word, then abruptly changing it, with a look of pained relief.

         “I’m Dirk,” he said, and they looked at
each other for several moments, Tallow seeming as if she desperately needed to
say something, but Dirk turned and picked up her tattered dress and handed it
to her.

         “Now what will I do?  I lose my fee, my
dress, and nearly my life,” she said, throwing her dress in a heap onto his
bed.  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said, clearly changing subjects and
looking kindly at him.  Dirk, thinking this was the usual come-on, shrugged,
saying that payment would not be necessary.

         “Why don’t I walk you home?” he asked. 
Though her face briefly showed so much pride that she wanted to refuse, Tallow
graciously agreed.  Her home was several blocks away, about as far as Cinder’s,
but north up King’s Road, the main street of the city, and one block east. 

         Tallow’s home was a pleasant-enough,
small three-level house.  Dirk walked her up the steps and she opened the door
as four bells sounded.  She smiled, thanked him and went quickly inside.  Dirk
walked down the same stairs, and home, his mind focused on work the next day.

         Melissa finished placing dinner on the
table and sat down.  The servants were instructed to cook two large meals each
week for the guards.  Every other meal was to be made by the warriors
themselves.  Before Melissa’s hiring, Anna or Marlo usually cooked for them
all, and occasionally Fiona would.  But since Melissa had moved in, it seemed
that either she cooked, or each fixed their own meals.  Melissa would prepare a
large feast from the food provided by their employer, and the others would
clean the mess afterward.  Everyone seemed happy with the new arrangement.

         “This looks really good, Melissa,” said
Donagee, gazing hungrily at the large pork roast on the table as Fiona sliced
it.   She and Melissa then filled everyone’s plates and sat down to eat.  Anna
was working, so the mood at the table was upbeat without her overbearing
presence there to douse the others.

         “How do you like it here?” Relarius asked
Melissa.

         “Working for Delsenar?” she asked.

         “No, in Andrelia.”

         “Oh, it’s different,” she said.

         “It sure is,” said Donagee in his deep,
hollow voice.  “I remember when I first came to the city.  I used to have a
farm...all the people...” he stammered, “...the laws and the noise...”   He
fell silent, once again showing his shy, reserved nature.  But his eyes looked
on Melissa as if he still spoke to her, letting her know that he was still in
conversation with her even though he had nothing else to say.

         “It’s really just like anywhere else. 
Pass the potatoes, please.” said Marlo, already on his second plate of dinner. 
“Actually, I bet, even with all the people, you have more privacy here.”

         “I don’t see that,” Relarius said.

         “Sure,” Marlo argued.  “In the country,
everyone knows everyone else and their business.  They’re always saying “hello”
and such.  Here, no one bothers you.”

         “That’s not privacy, that’s loneliness,”
said Relarius, the slick swordsman scanning his plate as if it were an
opponent.

         “Call it what you will,” said Marlo
unemotionally with a wave of his hand.  “Roast, please,” the great man said,
having just returned from duty and still wearing his chainmail shirt.

         “It
can
be lonely,” said Donagee,
as he handed the diminishing plate of meat to Marlo.  “That’s why you need
friends.”  He smiled innocently at Melissa. 

         When everyone was done eating, they
cleared the table, except for Melissa, who as the cook, was exempt.  She stood,
stretched then went up to her room.  “Melissa,” Relarius said just as she
opened the door.  Melissa turned and watched him mount the stairs.  “Hi,” he
said as he came and stood near her.  “What are you going to do?” 

         Melissa shrugged, surmising what the sly
look in his eyes meant.  “I thought I might try to get an edge on that sword of
mine,” she said so plainly that Relarius blinked in surprise.

         “Maybe I could help you.”

         “I can do it just fine,” she said, unable
to restrain a sweet, flattered and embarrassed giggle from erupting from her
throat.

         “Maybe we could do something else?”

         “No.  I’d like to hone my blade,” she
said stepping through her doorway.

         “There’s a lot of things more enjoyable
than that,” he said, moving right behind her.

         “Like what?” Melissa asked with a smile,
prodding him, seeing how blunt she could make him be, her face flushed with
flattery but still unmoved.

         “Let me show you.”

         “You’re sweet, but I’m not interested,
Relarius.”

         “I’m not sweet.  I’m sexy,” he said
jokingly, batting his brows much like Selric.  Melissa laughed and closed the
door slightly.  “No?” he asked.

         “No,” she said shaking her head.  He held
the door for a moment before letting her close it.  Melissa smiled and locked
her door, then sat on her bed and began to do just as she had said.

         Fiona and Melissa were talking in their
room when Dirk came in.  Fiona screamed in jest and hid behind Melissa. “Look,
Mel, it’s an ogre and he wants to eat us.  Oh, someone save us.  Help!”  She
stopped and looked at him, seeming upset, her eyes narrow and mouth drawn up
tight.

         “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he
asked.

         “Depends on which parts of me you ate,”
Fiona said wittily.  “Don’t you knock?” she then snarled as if the thought had
just occurred to her.

         “When I want to,” he said.  “And you’re
disgusting.”  Melissa was watching him.  “I want to go adventure.  Find
somewhere.” 

         Fiona threw herself prostrate on the
floor.  “Yes, oh liege,” she said.

         “Get up.  You’re supposed to be the “lore
master,”” Dirk scoffed sarcastically.  “Besides, if you find a place, you can
come with us.”

         “With whom?” Fiona asked.

         “Me and Mel...I mean Melissa, and
probably Selric.”

         “I’ll see what I can do,” said Fiona like
a brat.

         “We don’t have to take Cinder again do
we?” Melissa asked.

         “Why not?” Dirk and Fiona asked
simultaneously.  Melissa scoffed in disgust.

         “Why?  She didn’t do anything last time
and got a share of our reward.”  She paused.  “You just want to screw her!” 
Melissa said, angrily but clearly hurt and jealous.  Dirk denied it but Fiona
just smiled.

         “So?” Fiona said.  “She’s very
intelligent and knows magic, too.  I thought she was our friend anyway.”

         “Well, we’re not taking all our other
friends.  She can be our friend here, not in the Wild.  She’d be more trouble
than help, I promise that,” Melissa said with a nod indicating that she had
never been as sure of anything in her life.  She folded her arms and fell
silent.