Maerek focused on the table and expanded his senses, listening for the quickened heartbeat, heavy breathing, or the faintest sign of deceit. Some part of him still felt unsafe, unsecure in this place. Maerek recognized the feeling now for what it was and sighed in frustration. He was being watched.
Now that he was aware of it, he realized it was the same feeling that stuck with him since he came into contact with Vilheim. The feeling didn’t come from the constant interaction with humans. This feeling came from a constant, piercing glare of one individual. It bothered him that he had not picked up on a scent or some other sort of presence until now.
“What will you be havin’?” Maerek knew who it was before he lifted his head. That sweet, fierce voice hung in his mind, that same voice he sung to himself in his mind repeatedly. She was here.
“I said what will you be havin’?” she repeated. Maerek looked up and smiled. Her vibrant red hair was pulled back in a tight braid. The heat and humidity pulled strands of red hair up and away from her head, giving her a frazzled, yet poignant look. She wore a white shirt, similar to what the gentleman in the corner booth wore, with brown trousers, and a leather apron.
“A napkin, and a quill,” Maerek said quietly, almost in a whisper. “And a glass of water.”
“Pardon?”
“A napkin, a quill, and a glass of water please?” Maerek repeated slowly.
“And will you be eatin’ anythin’?” She asked.
“No ma’am,” replied Maerek. He looked down at his hand and then motioned for her to come closer. Mearto clearly understood but squinted at him instead of coming closer.
“Boshk sent me,” he mouthed.
“Liar,” she breathed back quickly, her blue eyes widened in anger for a moment and then went lax. Maerek turned his hand upward and pressed his finger into it.
“We don’t lie,” He replied firmly in his normal voice and flared his scent just enough for her to smell it. Her gaze softened slightly, and she looked more inquisitive rather than defensive.
“What do you want then?” She whispered just enough for Maerek to hear.
“A napkin, a quill, and a glass of water please?” Maerek asked again. Mearto huffed and grabbed a glass from underneath the bar, placed it underneath the tap of brown keg, and filled it with water.
“I’ll be right back,” she said sharply after she thudded the glass of water on the table. Maerek nodded and Mearto stormed into the kitchen. She returned not long after with a folded-up piece of paper, ink bottle, and quill.
Maerek said thank you, finished his glass of water, dipped the quill in the ink and then took to writing. Mearto left him for a moment to tend to other customers. When she walked by the officer’s table, one of the men asked if Maerek was causing her any trouble.
“No not at all. He’s a family friend,” she replied. At least now Maerek knew that she trusted him. Perhaps it was just his scent, and the familiarity of a being around one of her kin. In any case, Maerek was relieved. Gaining her trust had been easier than expected.
The note was short and to the point.
“The Seer is coming for us. I am going to end him. I promised your father, Boshk to ensure your safety.”
When she returned, she took the napkin, read the note upon it, folded it and placed it in a pocket in her apron. She stared down at the counter and pressed on her pocket slightly and tapped the note with one finger.
“I understand the promise you made with Boshk, but I don’t need protection from him.”
“He is a man of our blood now. I think you will need more protection than you think.”
“I know of his… condition,” she said condition slowly and scathingly. “I am too valuable to him.”
“You are also valuable to me,” Maerek whispered suddenly, unexpectantly pointing a finger at his heart. “He has found ways to detain and harm us,” he whispered, for her ears only. “Could I have another napkin?” Mearto obliged, grabbed one from behind the bar and handed it to Maerek. There was a window above the bar that showed the kitchen. A few plates were set up with bread and a pile of stew meat with gravy and vegetables. Mearto took the plates and set them over at the officers table.
As she was serving the other customers, Maerek took to writing another note.
“You know of our race to be true,” Maerek wrote. He then rubbed his thumb down the side of his neck and then rubbed it on the napkin, transferring a small portion of his scent. “Our kin are being hunted. The Seer and those that are with him know how to kill us. He understands how to manipulate us and get us to do what he wants. For my keep’s sake, I have vowed to end him. I will protect you.”
When Mearto returned, she read the note again, and squinted as if she was trying to make out a word, and sniffed slightly, taking in Maerek’s scent. She gave a slight laugh, folded the napkin and placed it with the other note.
“You are stubborn.”
“I am right,” Maerek replied.
“I suppose things get rowdy around here in the evening. You might be able to throw out some of the ruffians that show up at night for a room upstairs. Let me talk to my boss and see.”
Mearto went back into the kitchen, walked past the window, and started talking to whoever was doing the cooking. Maerek drove his senses outwards again, listing, not to the conversation in the kitchen, but to those in the tavern around him. He still felt someone watching him, leering down on him, almost breathing down his back. A couple calming moments later, Maerek was able to expand his senses again, listening to the officers discuss trade contracts in hushed voices, the sailor and sea-going folk whispering and grunting at each other. Those that sat alone were accompanied by the sound of voracious eating, slurping, chewing, guzzling, and swallowing.
There was one individual, Maerek could hear him now, who sat alone at a table close to the door and was eating very slowly. The smell of sea chowder, or some thick ocean flavored soup mixed in with the lilac and sea salt. The man breathed evenly, but his heart was beating slightly faster than Maerek liked. The thought came to him that perhaps the man had a heart condition. With all that occurred since the ambush of Moving Mountain, Maerek didn’t want to leave anything to chance. He made sure to mentally monitor the individual.
“This is my friend, Maerek,” Mearto said pointing to Maerek. Maerek looked up and saw the owner next to Mearto. The man was very short, only up to Mearto’s shoulder, young too, with a patchy, bristling mustache and scruffy chin hair. He held a wooden spoon his right hand and slapped the spoon end into his other hand like a rider’s crop. There was a slight amount of fat on his neck next to the jaw line, which gave his face a very rounded appearance. Blonde hair was kept long and tucked behind the ears and braided down his back. He wore a white apron spackled with grease and what looked like dried fish blood over a brown shirt, and blue trousers tied at the waist with braided twine. He looked at Maerek, examining his arms and chest. Then the cook stuck out his spoon and lifted Maerek’s chin, as if examining a fresh catch at the market.
“He’ll do,” the young man said. “Just make sure he has a shirt to wear for tonight. I don’t want patrons thinking I’ve hired a desert dweller. If he does a good job, he can sleep in the room next to yours.” That said, the owner turned on his heel and walked back to the kitchen.
“How did he come by a place like this?” Maerek asked.
“His mother was killed in Noiknaer during the attack. His father left shortly after and the tavern was left to him. He’s young, but he knows what he is doing.”
They stared at each other after those words, and awkward chasm of silence between them.
“Your father spoke highly of you when we visited,” Maerek said softly after the silence stretched too long.
“Boshk wasn’t my father,” she replied softly, and then gave a heavy, disappointed sigh.
“An overseeing uncle then?”
“We can talk more tonight. For now, I’ll show you to your room and fetch you a shirt. I have customers to atten
d to. Come on.”
Mearto led Maerek back into the kitchen and then up a flight of stairs. Warped boards creaked and groaned as they walked up the stairs, and the second floor wasn’t much better. Boards seemed just about ready to snap, like rotted wood under too much strain. Doors to rooms were left ajar, the door frames twisted and swelled with the moisture in the air. The rooms were located just above the main eating area and bar. Maerek’s room was the last room on the right.
There was a window that overlooked the slip and entrance into Kelp’s Catch. A small straw mattress lay atop a rope and wood bed frame. Wool blankets were folded and placed under the bed. A sink basin filled with water was on top of a counter that looked like it could crumble with any additional weight. There was also a mirror that was attached the wall adjacent from the mattress. Next to the counter was a wardrobe that was in seemingly worse shape than the counter. Hinges were rusted, stain and slivers of wood were curled and falling off. It was a very plane wardrobe, completely square with a flat bottom and simple wooden knobs that worked for handles to open what was left of the doors.
A window which opened on its side rather than sliding up and down overlooked the ocean. Maerek pushed the window open and looked out into the crowd. A man who wore a black bandana and carried a brown overcoat walked out of Kelp’s Catch. Mearto looked over Maerek’s shoulder in time to see the man hurriedly walk eastward.
“He has been coming here every day for the last two weeks. Orders the same thing and never says a word to anyone. I think he was waiting for you.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me,” Maerek said drably.
“The room isn’t much, but it will keep you comfortable at night. I’ll find a shirt for you here in a little while.”
Maerek nodded to Mearto but didn’t turn away from the window, watching the man in the black bandana. The man didn’t act without thought as he walked through the crowd, quickly disrobing his jacket and bandana, and replacing it with a faded red cloth that he wound up and tied above his brow. He also started to walk differently than the hurried stride when he left the tavern. Quick, purposeful steps changed to staggering movements and limping legs, more of a drunk than an informant.
There was an outburst closer to the docks as two suon crossed paths and bit at each other, jarring cargo and sending a few crates into the street. Maerek looked down as the drivers yelled at each other while sailors frantically packed crates and goods back into the wagons. He was distracted for only one second, but it was enough for the man to be lost in the crowd.
The smell of lilac and sea salt, much stronger than the scent downstairs, wafted in the room as the breeze rolled through the window. Maerek took a deep breath in through his nose, holding in the air as long as possible, before slowly letting it go. Tense muscles went lax, tight and raised shoulders fell, and the straw mattress on rope and wood frame became suddenly appeasing. Maerek thought once about lying down, but the thought of the Seer set him on alert again and flared his own scent to counteract her sleep-inducing scent.
Vilheim had shown Maerek when the Seer would arrive, but even given that unseen motive, Maerek wasn’t completely sure he could him. He found Mearto quickly and without much trouble, but that was as far as Maerek was willing to trust the man in the desert. Until the Seer was dead, and the dragons were not being hunted, Maerek would stay vigilant. The thought of rest came back to him again, and not that he should, but when. When could he relax, celebrate, and sleep peacefully?
Perhaps never.
Too much blood of his own kin and other creatures of the Faye had been spilled and tainted. The secrets of its warped condition were known by too many, and perhaps he would always be hunted.
“This is only the beginning,” Maerek whispered to himself as he looked out the window again. The door creaked open and Mearto stood in the door way with a black lace up shirt.
“Beginning of what?” Mearto asked, crossing her arms. She leaned against the door way and glared at him, gripping the collar of a black shirt in one hand.
“I fear it won’t end - this hunting, the killing. We will never be able to live the same way again.”
“Is that what your thought was? To supposedly come to my rescue, which I don’t need, nor want, and then take me back to some keep where you can lock me away for safe keeping? Oh, that’s a poor choice of words. In any event, how is that any different than imprisonment? And are you just now realizing that things have changed? That our way of life has changed?”
“I knew it,” Maerek replied softly, still looking out the window, “but I suppose I am beginning to understand it. That there is no going back, now that everything’s changed, I’ve changed.” Maerek turned away from the window and looked at Mearto. “You and I will never be safe again, and I think you are beginning to understand that too.”
“I think I don’t need your help,” she huffed and then threw the shirt on the bed. “And I don’t want what you are offering.”
“I’m offering you peace of mind,” Maerek said as he walked over to the bed and picked up the shirt. “The Seer will come for you. He will whisper things to you that only you would know. He will speak to your heart’s greatest desire, and he will promise you things that you do want. I say this, not because you are unaware of the threat he is to you, but so that you hear it from me, that you understand that I am only concerned for you and my oath-”
“Your oath? Your oath and honor were to a dead dragon! Boshk wasn’t my father, he was my uncle. He more than likely promised my father, and then passed that promise and song onto you when he realized he would not be able to fulfill it. With his years in captivity, I can only assume that his mind was lost, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he believed he was my father. As you see, I am free from the Seer and am more than capable of taking care of myself. You are released from your oath.”
Maerek stared at her and she stared back, both unblinking. In less than a second, Maerek thought about her perspective, and why she would be so unafraid of a captor, a tormentor, a monster that had killed dozens, if not hundreds, of her race. She stood with confidence, as if she knew something that Maerek didn’t, that there was one more piece of the puzzle that Maerek couldn’t see.
“What is it that you know that I don’t?” asked Maerek. “If I were you, I would be more vengeful, on the verge of wrath, maybe. Yet you are calm. Why?” Mearto smiled, unfolded her arms, and sighed.
“That is the right question to be asking isn’t it?” She paused and looked down the hallway. “We’ll talk more tonight, after the evening, after my shift is over at nine bells. I’ll come straight up when I’m done, and we’ll talk more then. You’ll start work at ten bells for the drinkers and drunkards.” Mearto reached for the door and started to close but paused when she looked at Maerek. “You need to promise me one thing though if I come up to visit tonight.”
“State the promise and I might agree to it,” Maerek replied.
“Promise me that you’ll drop the idea of rescuing me. I’ve told you, I am fine, I am free. I don’t need rescuing. I won’t need saving. I don’t need anything or anyone. I can take care of myself more than you know.”
“I can agree to that under the condition that you let me end the Seer and at least, in a small way, work at becoming a friend.”
“We have an agreement.” Mearto nodded as she spoke and then flared her scent slightly. Maerek reciprocated the gesture and flared his scent, a sign of mutual understanding. “Get some rest Maerek. I’ll watch over you.”
On the word rest, Maerek felt exceptionally drowsy and tried to fight it off, but before the door closed, Maerek lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. A tingling, soothing feeling, wrapped around him from head to toe. For the first time, Maerek realized how comforting it was to associate with one of his own kin. In a small way, it reminded him of the feeling he had in his keep, knowing that together, they were safe. Mearto was honest in that she would watch out for Maerek as he rested.
“Perhaps I’m the one who needs r
escuing,” was the last thought Maerek had before he fell asleep.
CHAPTER 20
Maerek woke with a start as the door creaked open. Tensed muscles and fists relaxed as Mearto walked in. Night had come quickly to the Port, and the rest Maerek did have seemed to go by in a flash. Even with the window open, he hadn’t heard the bells of the watch. Mearto was carrying a red clay bowl of steaming beef and vegetable soup with a wooden spoon laid across the top of the bowl.
“I brought you something to eat, to help clear your mind,” she said as she shut the door behind her. Maerek sat up in bed and pulled the blankets off of him.
“Did you come up to visit me while I slept?” he asked.
“Aye, I did. I put the blanket over you and hung up your shirt in the wardrobe.”
“And what did you to do me to make me sleep so hard?”
“Was your sleep restful?” Maerek nodded. “Then don’t complain about it. You have been on a long trip. You need rest, mental rest, if you are going to be of any use to us tonight.” She walked across the room and handed him the bowl of soup. Maerek sniffed it and smiled. “I also need you to be completely mentally sharp, so you can understand what I am about to tell you.” Maerek nodded again as he started to eat the soup. Mearto walked over to the window and closed it. It jarred in the warped frame but shut with a little extra force. Once it closed, she turned to look at Maerek and leaned against the wall.
“I told you once that I am too precious to the Seer for him to kill.” Maerek was about to ask a question but Mearto held up her hand for silence. “Eat your soup, listen, then ask questions.” She lowered her hand and then took deep breath and exhaled quickly. “The Seer values my life and my safety above all else, because I am the only one standing between him and his greatest enemy.” Maerek was about to ask another question but covered by slurping another spoonful of soup. “Many years ago, there was a student at our school named Vilheim, and he discovered a way to gain a form of immortality from tainting the blood of our kin as well as other creatures and humans who were imbued by the Faye. When he was discovered as the murderer of many of our teachers, the story is that the teachers and head teacher cursed him as Nameless, essentially wiping his memory. Vilheim played the part well, and we thought we had succeeded, but his memory was not erased, though he was significantly weakened.
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