Authors: Brian Fuller
Gen tried to relax as Maewen unfolded the tale. During her explanation, a Pureman with a bucket of water entered and knelt beside him. After removing Gen’s shirt—the bruise on his chest eliciting a wince from even the angry First Mother—he inspected his wounds. Gen heard the Chalaine gasp at seeing the cuts on his hand and shoulder, both caked with blood. The entire proceeding came to a halt when the Pureman cut Gen’s boot and sock off to reveal an ankle swollen purple and black. Another Pureman cleaned the Uyumaak scratches on Maewen, the only wounds she’d received.
Maewen was honest and forthcoming, though she gave little detail on their battles to hide the secret of Gen’s sword. As the tale went on, Mirelle became even more livid than before. Her blonde hair was pulled away from a face as severe as a pretty face can be, and her eyes bored into him. Geoff wrote furiously, and at the tense spots, the Puremen stopped cleaning their charges to listen intently.
“Let me get this straight, Maewen,” Regent Ogbith said when the half-elf finished. “You find a group of Uyumaak, and instead of running back to warn us and get help, you decide to assassinate their Shaman and fight off the Hunters? What? Just needed a little fun? The caravan a little too boring for you?”
“The two of us killed twenty-two Uyumaak and lived. For me, that is a good day,” Maewen countered with such stern defiance to silence everyone. “This caravan has been careless for too long and my warnings have been ignored! The issue is what you’re going to do now that you start to feel your peril. What Gen and I did, we did and are done. What you do now will determine if this little parade manages to roll the rest of the way to Elde Luri Mora or not!”
Maewen’s fire was enough to turn the conversation away from a critique of their decisions and onto what was to be done to protect the caravan. From Mirelle’s stare, Gen knew she wouldn’t forget their folly so soon.
While the assembled nobles argued the finer points of getting a large procession of people and supplies through hostile territory, the Pureman finished his cleaning, wrapping Gen’s ankle in a towel and instructing him to see him afterward. Another towel was given to him and Maewen to dry themselves with.
The Chalaine touched Gen’s shoulder and bent down to whisper in his ear. “I think healing you will be in vain. My mother is going to kill you.”
Gen agreed. He closed his eyes to calm his mind and let the tension of the day seep out of him. After a moment he could feel the pressure in his chest lessening and he could move the fingers of his right hand again. He realized the Chalaine still had her fingers on his shoulders. He considered forcing her stop, but decided against it since it would likely create a scene. He quickly used the towel to cover his chest and arm, keeping his right hand closed. Before long the pain and exhaustion had fled, and the Chalaine backed slowly away.
“Chalaine,” Regent Ogbith said as the meeting came to a close, “This will be the last time we can risk you out of your carriage. I am sorry.”
“I shall bear up well,” she said, “since it was also the only time.”
“Very good. Captain Tolbrook will take Gen’s place tonight while he is healed.”
Mirelle fixed her eyes on Maewen and Regent Ogbith and pointed at Gen. “This one goes on no more little jaunts into the wild, understand?”
Both nodded their assent, and people filed out of the tent.
“Well, Chalaine,” Chertanne said as she came close to him. “Not much of a Protector, is he? Nearly got killed by a few dirty Uyumaak!”
Shadan Khairn smacked his son in the face, and all chatter died.
“You show respect!” the Shadan said vehemently. “A hearty group of squirrels could see you dead for all you know of the blade!”
Chertanne did not back down from his Father’s fiery stare. “When I come into my power, we’ll see who’s alive and who’s dead!”
He left quickly as Torbrand seethed. Jaron rushed the Chalaine from the tent during the confrontation. Maewen helped Gen up, though he didn’t need it, and he faked a limp as they left the tent and headed toward the Puremen’s camp. A sudden shove from behind nearly sent him to the ground.
“She healed you, didn’t she?” It was Mirelle, face angry in the light of the moons.
“Yes,” Gen confessed sheepishly. Maewen laughed and continued walking.
“I’ll make sure they give you a good burial,” she teased in Elvish.
“Thank you,” Gen answered back in kind.
“Follow me, Gen,” Mirelle commanded.
“May I get a change of clothes first?”
“Please do. Meet me at my tent when you are a little more presentable.”
Gen arrived at his wagon to find Jaron just settling in.
“Gen! You had us worried. How are you?”
“I am well, though I was worried there for a while, too.” Gen opened the box that held his clothes. “It was my first time to face down a Hunter charge. Stories don’t do it justice.”
“I faced one on the Daervin’s Wild shard in my younger days. I had fifteen soldiers with me, and it was a close thing. Facing it with but two, and one a woman, would be several times worse.”
Gen removed the pins from his old shirt and affixed them to the new. “Luckily, Maewen is as good a several men when it comes to the bow. Good night, Jaron.” Gen grabbed his last shirt, pair of pants, and boots and left.
“Good night, lad.”
Gen bathed quickly in the chilly river and half considered finding something else to do besides attend his interview with Mirelle. He had received permission to go on the expedition from his commanding officer, so technically, she should yell at Regent Ogbith. In the end, Gen couldn't bring himself to disobey her. Mirelle had always supported and cared for him, so he steeled himself and walked the short distance to her tent.
Cadaen stood guard at the entrance, and Gen thought he could detect a hint of a smile on the corners of the Protector’s mouth as he pushed the tent flap aside for Gen. Mirelle’s tent had only a chest and her bedding, and she invited him to sit near the door as she sat opposite him.
It was hard for Gen to know how he should think of her. On the one hand, she was old enough to be his mother; on the other, she was young enough and pretty enough not to be. She usually treated him as a friend, but she could switch from friend to First Mother in an instant. Tonight they had clearly moved beyond the First Mother and liege relationship and stepped into ‘foot and bug’ territory. She stared at him for a long time before speaking, eyes glinting with boiling anger.
“Before I get to my several points, Gen, there’s really only one thing you need understand and remember if you forget everything else I may say to you tonight. The thing is this. Regent Ogbith may be your ‘commander,’ but when it comes to where Gen goes and where Gen doesn’t go on this trip, there are only two people: me and me. The next time you kill an Uyumaak, my daughter better be close enough to watch! How dare you go running off without my knowing! Don’t give me that stone-faced look of yours! I want to see you’re sorry! And in case you’re all smug about killing half a company of Uyumaak, let’s just review all of your
stupid
decisions today, shall we?”
For what seemed like half the night, Mirelle laid waste to anything Gen might be thinking good about himself and pointed out repeatedly that she was before Eldaloth himself when it came to Gen getting permission to do anything besides stay within earshot of the Chalaine. He was fairly sure she would have impugned his parentage for all of his faults if he had any parentage to speak of. At one point, he thought she might actually make up some parents for him just for that purpose, but mercifully, she did eventually tire and tell him to get out of her sight.
Gen felt more exhausted than ever as he left the tent, but still far from sleep. Cadaen clapped him on the back in an understanding gesture, and Gen glanced back to see a wide grin splitting his face. For a moment he stood and wondered what to do. He couldn’t go back to his own wagon since Jaron would be sleeping there. The moons’ positions in the sky told him that Mirelle had only berated him for a little over an hour. His stomach rumbled, and he raided the supply wagon for something to eat before returning to the Chalaine’s carriage to attempt to relieve Captain Tolbrook.
“You are to rest tonight, sir,” Tolbrook objected. “You’ve had a long day and probably have a good bit of healing to do yet.”
“I am fit, Captain. The First Mother herself just told me to not leave the Chalaine’s side without her permission, so I am trying to obey her orders. Trust me, Captain, I am ready for duty. If you think otherwise, come check on me in a couple of hours to be sure.”
Tolbrook thought for a moment. “Well, I wouldn’t want to cross the First Mother if she’s told you to watch her.”
“Indeed, you wouldn’t.”
“Very well, then. I will check in on you. I need to run Kimdan through a few more drills before I let him sleep. I don’t see how you could be ready to watch through the night after what you’ve been through, but you’re an extraordinary one, so I’ll give you a chance.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Gen replied as Tolbrook walked off into the dark. The camp was quieting down, though the soldiers had started riding patrols around the edge of the circle of wagons. The night was again clear, the stars and moons brilliant in the sky, the shards drifting silently by.
After Mirelle’s scathing, he supposed he should feel guilty for what he’d done, but he couldn’t dredge up the feeling. Now that he wasn’t dripping blood, running from Uyumaak, or hobbling on a bad ankle, the memory of the experience invigorated him. Gen thought of how when he was a child he couldn’t stop playing with Rafael’s small statuette of an Uyumaak even though it gave him bad dreams. If he’d had any idea as a child of what Uyumaak were really like, he would have buried the thing.
“I see you survived my mother’s wrath. I could hear some of it,” the Chalaine said from behind the small opening in the bars.
“She knows you healed me, so you are likely next in line. If she tells the Pontiff, you might want to consider feigning deafness. I hope your mother can see fit to forgive me.”
“Don’t worry, Gen. She only does that to people she really likes.”
“That’s comforting. I never thought I would hear that kind of language coming out of a woman’s mouth. She could outdo any woodsman I ever knew.”
The Chalaine laughed. “My mother does know some choice words, doesn’t she? I think the way she found out about your absence accounts for a lot of her vitriol. The missing scouts worry her greatly. She had no idea you and Maewen had embarked on a scouting mission and were late in returning until she came at sundown to talk with me and found Jaron still on duty. I told her where you had gone. Fenna told me earlier about your ‘running off’ with Maewen.”
“An interesting choice of words.”
“Yes. You may find that your little getaway with a pretty half-elven woman may have helped in other matters. Fenna was out here pacing around the carriage nearly all day. She actually told Geoff to ‘run off and sing a song or something’ at one point.”
“He must have been crushed.”
“Probably, but you know Geoff—always hunting for sunshine in the storm. I’m sure he will be after her all the more tomorrow.”
“You were kidding about Kimdan last night, right?”
“No. But unfortunately for him, he’s on duty all day and off training with the Dark Guard half the night, so unless he gets a little more time, I think you won’t have to worry about him for a while.”
Gen shook his head. This trip had proved more complicated than he could have imagined. “Thank you for healing me, though I must note my objection for any record that Geoff may write up about the incident.”
“You are welcome. It makes me furious when they tell me I can’t heal someone, especially you. Healing is one thing I
can
do during this lousy trip. If I can’t even heal my own Protectors, then what good is my talent?”
“You just need to learn to be more like Chertanne,” Gen suggested. “He’s perfectly comfortable contributing nothing whatsoever. He didn’t say one word while they decided the strategy of the caravan! The only thing he ever puts any effort into is trying to disgrace me.”
The Chalaine's voice dropped to a whisper. “He’s not doing very well on that front. Watching his father slap him has replaced you telling me to shut up as the high point of the trip thus far.” They shared a laugh at the memory of Chertanne’s bewildered look upon being hit, probably for the first time in his life.
The sight of Fenna striding briskly forward brought an abrupt end to their mirth. She stopped in front of Gen, and for several moments Gen couldn’t tell if she would hug him or slap him. Thankfully, she settled on the former before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips and scorching him with the same kind of look Mirelle had tortured him with for the last hour.
“Well, I certainly hope Mirelle put you straight,
Lord
Gen. I bet you thought it was really funny smiling a little smile and waving a little wave to poor little Fenna as you go running out of the camp with that pretty little half-elven hussy!”
“That’s not fair, Fenna. She is not a. . .”
“It’s not your turn to talk, Gen. Don’t you think that just because we haven’t had much time together lately that you can just start fraternizing with whomever you please and that there won’t be any consequences! I am not to be trifled with! I have feelings, too! Do you have any idea how we all felt when you didn’t return? Sick, that’s how. You only bother to tell Regent Ogbith where you’re going, like the rest of us don’t care that you’re off on some dangerous mission where you almost get killed! I obviously don’t mean enough to you for you to even tell me. I just get a quaint ‘See you later, Fenna’ smile as you run by!”