Those last three pouches held nothing as Estin searched them, so he turned them upside-down, dumping out a large pile of pale brown sand onto the floor. He chuckled at the thought that he had brought some of Corraith’s desert halfway across Eldvar by accident, but then stopped and looked over at the bag that contained Feanne’s remains. The last place they had been alive together was Corraith, giving it some significance to him. Sighing, he dug a small bag out of one of the other pouches and filled it with a handful of sand before returning it to his belt pouch.
Satisfied he had little that could be cast aside, Estin pushed his belt and the pouches attached to it out of his way and smoothed out the blankets the fox had left at his side. His fur still felt itchy with the dirt stuck in it, but he had lived with far worse. Cleanliness was a luxury he rarely had an opportunity to enjoy.
Estin closed his eyes to rest, but a sensation that he was being watched made him too uncomfortable to sleep. Peeking, he saw the fox stood over him. When he opened his eyes, she sniffed and gave a particularly muddy portion of the fur on his shoulder a glare. Making a grumbling noise, the fox pawed at his arm.
“You’re as bad as she was,” he told the animal, smiling at it. “If I had any doubts that she sent you, that does away with them. I don’t need a mother.”
The fox continued to stare at him until he got up and headed toward the waiting servant. At Estin’s approach, Geraine stood more straight, looking to him for a request.
“Would you have hit me in the head with that club, given the chance?” he asked the human, looking up at him. Estin had found years earlier that the taller races and breeds seemed to expect anything shorter than them to act shy. As such, he insisted on meeting their eyes as often as possible to put them off-balance.
“Without hesitation,” replied Geraine. “Now, he says you are friends and allies, so that is exactly what you are. You’re family until further notice.”
“They pay you well to be so loyal?”
Geraine smirked before replying, “Well enough.”
“Good enough for me,” Estin admitted, looking past the man to the hall beyond. There were side rooms, one of which was open—the water room, judging by the pipes he could see. He had not been in many cities with running water, making him curious whether Pholithia’s was any better than the other lands. “Towels? Also, how good are your drains? I shed.”
The man gave Estin a sharp look of disgust but hid it very quickly. He might not like the idea of letting wildlings bathe in the home, but he clearly knew better than to argue. Laws were one thing; obeying his master was quite another.
Without question, Geraine showed Estin to a linen cabinet, and before Estin had even chosen a towel from it, the man had fetched a heavy brush for him that likely would make it through his matted fur.
Estin thanked him and went into the next room, where he could see thick iron pipes that ran from the floor up to the ceiling. Stepping in and closing the door behind him, he looked around for the usual spigot or other apparatus to make the water flow into a basin…though there was no basin, either. Either he had entered the wrong room, or at the least, the residents used a different place to relieve themselves. The only indication other than the pipes that the room was used for anything water-related was that the floor was a heavy-iron grating and Estin could hear water down below.
“How do I make it work?” he called out through the door.
Geraine said, “Chain in the corner.”
Estin looked around in confusion and then finally spotted the chain. Taking hold of a ring on the end, he gave one last look around the room, trying to figure out where the water would come from, and then pulled.
“In Another Skin”
I am losing the sight as my strength continues to wane, On’esquin. There is not much time left and I see less than I once did.
I have always heard the elderly speak of their eyes dimming as they approach death’s door, but now I truly understand. This is somewhat figurative, though in my case, it is somewhat more literal. I see the visions only as a haze, growing more difficult to see clearly with each hour. Soon struggling to live will be meaningless, as I know that until my wife returns with the cure, death is inevitable, and with no visions to narrate, I have nothing left to offer my people.
This last hour, all I have seen is a concept, rather than a sight.
I have seen revelation. I believe the companions—assuming any still live by the point they have made their way toward our lands—will finally see the truth in one another. There will always be more to show, but some of the more important secrets will come to light. They will know each other for what they are, even if they do not understand.
Understanding each other will only be the first step to understanding how they can help us all when they come to this barren, snowy wasteland.
-
Excerpt from the lost prophecies of Turess
Raeln sat in the corner for a while, trying to calm himself. Each time thoughts of Greth hit him—or for that matter, any of the people he had lost in the last year, including his sister, mother, father, and friends—it became harder to think. He had not slept right in so very long and it was starting to make him addled. Knowing that did not make it any easier to fix, though. His head felt like it was swimming in emotions he had no desire to release.
He looked around once he got his feelings under control again, realizing Estin had left the room at some point, leaving the fox behind to fuss with his blankets, claiming a corner for herself. Raeln wanted to ask Estin how he dealt with all the death he had seen. Though Estin had been far worse right after Feanne’s death than Raeln had after Greth’s, he had bounced back quickly. That was something Raeln desperately needed to learn from him.
The woman, Ira, had also left while Raeln was lost to his thoughts, making him wonder how long he had struggled with himself. He normally was quite aware of the movement of others around him, and having two leave without him noticing was bothersome. The only ones left in the room were Yoska and Thomin, who were talking quietly to one side, and On’esquin, who was sitting on the floor near the fox, reading from a tattered little book. Of them, only the fox looked at him, her green eyes watching him accusingly.
“Welcome back,” On’esquin said, turning to the next page and glancing up at Raeln briefly, the only indication of who he was speaking to.
A nearby crash of water and choked yelp startled Raeln, but the abrupt laughter of Yoska and Thomin told him it was likely not serious. The two men strained to control their mirth long enough for Yoska to say to Raeln, “Is Estin we laugh at. First-time visitor to Urishaan water room always has big surprise. If you yell we laugh at you too. Is only warning we give, yes?”
Raeln glanced toward the door to the other rooms of the home and saw Geraine standing in a hallway near a closed door with his jaw clenched to keep from laughing. Estin’s cries from the room beyond had died down to mere grumbling that carried through the door, along with splashing.
Shaking his head, Raeln got up and rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake. He went to Thomin, digging out the coins Estin had given him, and offered them back to Thomin. Lowering his head in visible apology, Raeln waited for the man to take the coins from him. Instead, Thomin gave him a questioning look and shrugged.
“We took these,” Raeln confessed, not wanting to put any blame squarely on Estin, even if deserved. He would not throw Estin figuratively to the wolves, but he would address Estin directly about his concerns…maybe once he had gotten some sleep. “We didn’t know you were a friend. I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again.”
Thomin did not reach for the coins, instead giving Yoska a confused stare. “Where did you find him? He’s adorable. We should have gotten one years ago to speak well of us to the law.”
“You know me,” Yoska replied, grinning at Raeln. “Always finding strays.”
“You…you aren’t angry?” asked Raeln, not understanding. He stared at the coins in his hand, trying to decide what he should do. He was tempted to set them in Thomin’s lap.
“Why would I be mad?” Thomin asked in reply, shrugging. “I married a gypsy many years ago. I know the rules of the road. If I don’t—or can’t—protect something, I really can’t complain if someone else who needs it more takes it. Trust me, I intend to take those back in my own time, but I will not take them out of sympathy. If you seem to need it more, it wasn’t mine to keep in the first place.”
“So…you want me to keep these?” Raeln was having no luck understanding this man. Yoska was difficult, but Thomin seemed impossible. “Theft is illegal here, correct?”
“Yes and yes. Keep the coins and whatever else you took. Consider them my apology for trying to use magic on your group because of an old argument. My wife was kind enough to remind me that attacking her bandoleer is not the best way to live a long life, and the loss of a few coins is hardly a bad price to learn that. Besides, we’re at no lack for money after the disappearance of many of my wealthy friends. What we lack in this city are places to spend that money that doesn’t benefit the enemy or draw attention back to us.”
Raeln finally closed his hand over the coins and pushed them back into his pouch. Kneeling beside the men, he asked, “How bad is it really? We saw the undead, but your walls are intact. There must be some resistance.”
“The Turessians were allowed in as a bargain to save ourselves,” explained Thomin. “I was just telling Yoska that all of Urishaan is under their control now, though Pholithia is the only city that was not destroyed to my knowledge. We were the last to fall, so we were the quickest to offer our hospitality to the enemy when they showed up with an army that was larger than our population. The gates were opened…the executions began about an hour later.”
“What did you give them to win that kind of trust?” Raeln asked, confused. “Lantonne was torn to the ground without any negotiation of any kind. I can’t imagine what would convince them to spare you.”
“Not me…the city. I’m part of the price we paid, I’m afraid,” the man said, smiling wryly. “Everyone capable of prophecy or magic more complex than card tricks was to be turned over to the Turessians. There are a few of us left, but not many. I have a feeling that once they think they’ve found us all, the rest of the citizens will be killed off and turned into more soldiers. Other than that, there were a few things they demanded from the old museums, and I believe they took the researchers from there as well. Anything that dates back to the founding of the city left on a caravan months ago.”
“What kind of things?” On’esquin demanded, though he kept reading from the book in his lap. “Specifics, please.”
Thomin shook his head, as though he had been unable to make sense of what he was about to say and did not expect them to, either. “A tapestry and some old clothing, pottery bits, and jewelry that had never been identified.” He noticed Raeln’s curious look and added, “I used to work in the museum. It was a great place to steal jewelry for Ira or find things that people will buy for far more than it’s worth.”
“Details are essential here. A symbol, a pattern, even a general style might mean everything or nothing,” warned On’esquin.
Thomin stared right at On’esquin. “All of them had patterns like those on your face. An extinct tribe’s markings, they said, but unlike most of the others working there, I know Turessian when I see it. Spent most of my adult life trying to decipher some of their…your…old books. The jewelry was badly worn, so they gave us descriptions of the pieces they wanted. Your wildling is wearing one of the pieces I stole and sold to the dwarves before we were invaded.”
Raeln looked down at the silver bracelet and slid his shirt down to cover it.
“You tried taking it off yet?” Thomin asked, grinning. “Of course you have. Damn thing upset the researchers something fierce. They wanted it gone in a hurry and said nothing when I stole it. Had no idea the undead would want it a few months later.”
“How do I get it off?” Raeln demanded, tugging at the clasp for emphasis.
“You need an enchanter. Took ours weeks to unravel enough of the magic on that thing to pry it off our head of staff. Don’t bother looking around…Turessians took all the enchanters weeks ago. The more magic we threw at it, the tougher it was to remove.”
On’esquin refused to let Thomin change directions at all. “I need to know every piece they wanted. I can guess, but that is counterproductive. Those books would be handy too.”
“It was a pretty long list they asked about, but only a few that fit anything we’d seen. I can probably get the original demand letter from a colleague in the morning. The books they’re looking for are on the shelf over there,” Thomin explained, pointing to the top of one of the bookshelves.
“Please do get the list. We will need that information,” On’esquin replied, standing up and straining to see the top of the shelf. Reaching up and feeling around, he pulled down two dust-covered old books Raeln thought looked like they had been thrown in the mud, driven over by carts, and maybe even kicked a few times.
“What else?” Yoska asked, apparently not having covered that in their previous conversation. “I always could tell when you omitted things, Thomin. Is a tell in the way you rub at your chin.”
“For starters, three of your companions are on the list,” replied Thomin, nodding toward On’esquin. “The guards are to let any wildlings or orcs into the city and never let them back out. Any orc or wildling with those tattoos…they want them tracked and confined. You were being followed, which was why we thought you were coming for us. Our man distracted the undead to make sure they didn’t follow you here.”
On’esquin looked back down at the book he held, appearing anything but concerned. “It was expected, though I thought it would take longer for them to secure the cities they wanted to hold. I believed I had a year or two before they had this level of control over the populace of major cities,” the orc admitted. Turning a page, he added, “These are children’s books with old stories. Some appear to be based on actual events long past.”
Nodding, Thomin said, “I don’t know what the four of you are doing, but Ira has a better head on her shoulders than I do. She thinks that the Turessians are scared of something and your little group fits the description perfectly. Anything that scares them is an ally in our opinions. Even if you aren’t the reason they made those declarations, I’m willing to put some hope in it.”
Yoska raised a hand to announce something grandly, but as he opened his mouth, On’esquin quickly spoke. “We are not the ones they are looking for, of that I’m certain. No need to worry. We will gladly accept any help you offer and aid you as we are able, and then depart before anyone is aware of your involvement.”
Raeln could see Yoska was crestfallen, having hoped to proudly proclaim they were following the ridiculous prophecy. If he had to guess, Yoska had been about to announce himself as some sort of savior. Still, the man let On’esquin have his way and did not argue.
“The well-educated Turessian orc says it’s just random happenstance that you all fit the descriptions,” Thomin said to Yoska, smirking all the while. “You say I lie poorly.” Thomin then seemed to notice the book On’esquin had set aside to read the old Turessian ones and his humor faded. “That is my book of spells,” the human noted, frowning. “As with the coins, it is yours…”
On’esquin shook his head and picked up the book. “You may have it back. It has been many years since I used magic and it was nice to see how things have changed in the schools. Your teachers would be proud of the skills at your disposal and the potential you show if you have mastered these. You will be a skilled spellcaster after you are finished with your training.”
Taking the book, Thomin appeared genuinely hurt as he held it, finally saying softly, “I won awards from the king and prince for my skills. I was begged to become a teacher for the prince at one time. I’ve been done with training for almost two decades. It has been a few years…”