Whatever pain was in his heart was mirrored in his eyes, and Alicia softened her gaze just a bit in sympathy.
“Do you need anything? Danner, right?” she asked, pretending to fumble for his name.
He nodded and said, “Actually, I could use some more cahve.” His voice caught at first, and he had to clear his throat before Alicia could understand him. Whatever it was, he was obviously upset about it. Alicia wondered if he knew how much of his heart shone in his emerald-green eyes.
“I’ll bring it out in a second,” Alicia said softly. As she turned toward the kitchen, she caught a flash of disappointment on Danner’s face.
Probably wishing I was Deeta, Alicia thought, surprised at her own vehemence. She slipped back into the kitchen. The pot of cahve over the fire at the break table usually tasted better than the stuff brewed in the kettle behind the bar. She grabbed an empty mug from the shelf and dipped it full, then returned to the common room to see Deeta sitting at Danner’s table, chatting away.
She couldn’t hear their words, but the flush on Danner’s face told her plainly how he was reacting to her presence. The fool actually liked the blonde trollop fawning on him!
“…it’s tomorrow night, and the boys around here are so hopeless when it comes to dancing,” Deeta was saying with what Alicia thought to be exaggerated drama. “You wouldn’t want me to end up dancing with a flat-footed farmer, would you?”
“Uh, no,” Danner stammered, shifting his gaze back and forth between Alicia and Deeta. “That is, I mean, I’m sure they’re not that bad.”
Alicia had almost completely forgotten that the next night was Moreen’s seasonal dance, which she hosted in the Dragoenix Inn. Alicia had avoided the dance for the past two years, not especially liking the sensation of sitting on the edge of the dance floor while all the other girls were being tossed about like elves. Occasionally one of the older men would take pity on her and invite her for a dance, and on even rarer occasion one of the boys would work up the courage, or desperation, to ask her onto the floor.
Alicia was actually a rather good dancer, having taken extensive lessons from Moreen. But with Alicia’s reputation – and despite her above-average appearance – the boys were always leery of offending her or wasting a dance on someone who they already “knew” they had no chance with in the first place. It was frustrating to be denied something she enjoyed so much simply because men were too oblivious to…
With an effort, Alicia stopped worrying about the upcoming dance and focused again on Danner and Deeta. The barmaid was pressing her advantage for all it was worth, and was still seemingly oblivious to Alicia’s presence behind her.
Alicia gritted her teeth and had to force herself not to slam the mug on the table. Somehow she had the feeling she was coming to Danner’s rescue, though he certainly didn’t seem to mind the blonde’s attention. Deeta stared innocently up at her and smiled.
“Alicia,” she said sweetly, “my feet are a tad sore. Do be a sweetheart and cover my tables for a bit, please?”
The pleasant tone of her voice made it impossible for Alicia to claw her face off, at least not without losing her job. Instead, she smiled back and shook her head in mock sympathy.
“I’d love to, Deeta, but I’ve my own tables to cover,” she said, putting just a touch of steel in her voice. She did have a certain reputation among the barmaids, after all, and it wouldn’t be for them to think she would just roll over at every sly trick and comment.
“Oh, but you’ve only the one other man,” Deeta said, and Alicia hid a grimace as she saw that the other barmaid was right, “and there’s only two left in my area. Please, Alicia. My poor feet.”
This last was directed at Danner, and she leaned toward him as though in pain.
If it’s pain you want, I’ll help you, Alicia thought grimly, bringing to mind her favorite mental picture of Deeta with boot polish in her hair, her pretty face splattered with mud, and an extra twenty pounds added on her hips. Alicia added a heavy limp and a weepy face, then forced herself not to smile at the resulting image.
“Alright, Deeta,” Alicia said finally, mustering as much sweetness in her voice as she could. “Just remember what Mo said about taking breaks in the common room. Don’t take too long, sweetheart. I wouldn't want her to catch you,” she said, tossing the comment over her shoulder like a blunt weapon.
Moreen had not, of course, said anything about where the barmaids could and couldn’t take their breaks, but Deeta wouldn’t know that. Having worked at the inn the longest, Alicia was closer to Mo than any of the other girls and was often used as a sort of liaison between the owner and the barmaids. She enjoyed the extra pull it gave her with the girls, and the fact that they usually had to regard her instructions as though they came from Moreen’s mouth. More than once, Alicia had created a fictitious rule in Moreen’s name that conveniently suited her own needs of keeping the barmaids in line. Was it her fault they didn’t bother to check with Moreen personally?
The barb had the intended effect, and Alicia only covered Deeta’s tables for a few minutes before the other girl returned to her work. Alicia hoped Danner noticed that for a girl complaining of sore feet, Deeta moved with remarkable swiftness across the room and without a trace of discomfort.
Alicia nodded in satisfaction, then turned to welcome a trio of customers coming in from the street.
- 4 -
Birch turned his head to avoid the sun’s glare, hoping the light wouldn’t wake Moreen. After he’d woken up on the table, he’d gone in search of Moreen and found her in the same room she’d used a dozen years before. He was glad that exhaustion had dulled some of the heartache he might otherwise have suffered from going into the room again.
They talked for several long, painful hours, while Birch explained why he and his companions would be leaving almost immediately. The storm of fury Birch had anticipated at that announcement hadn’t come. Instead, Moreen was resignedly calm, and it had all but torn Birch’s heart from his chest at the way she’d seemed to accept his departure.
It wasn’t that he’d really wanted her to be upset again, far from it. Rather, her resignation pained Birch because he knew it came from having said goodbye too many times. Moreen was sadly well-acquainted with such departures, and likewise was used to Birch being gone for weeks and months at a time without any word as to his whereabouts. At any other time, realizing just how much he’d hurt Moreen would have stopped Birch in his tracks, and he would have stayed with her, at least until they’d had the chance to reacquaint their lives. He even dared to hope they might renew their relationship, perhaps catch up to where they’d left off, perhaps even more.
But even aside from his own need to reach Nocka, Birch had his nephew’s welfare to think about. Staying in one place too long could be dangerous for the boy, at least until they reached the safety of Nocka. Once there, the paladins would protect one of their own and anyone with him.
“Maybe it’s better I leave quickly,” Birch murmured sadly, his eyes settling on the sleeping Moreen. “Best not to become too much a part of her life, lest I hurt her again.” Birch’s gaze firmed and his voice hardened, yet remained quiet. “Never again,” he said roughly. “Never again will I hurt her as I did before. When my business in Nocka is complete, I’ll come back here and give her the man she deserves or else stay out of her life entirely.”
Moreen deserved a man who could and would be there for her.
“The man I can’t be,” Birch whispered, his voice thick. Then he cleared his throat. “At least not yet.”
Chapter 14
Man has struggled for untold centuries to better understand himself. He gave up on understanding women long ago.
- Yellow Paladin Robert Farnsworth,
“Gender Communications” (904 AM)
- 1 -
Alicia knocked softly on Moreen’s door, hoping against hope that the inn’s owner was either asleep or out of the room. Either way, Alicia would have a valid excuse for not talkin
g with her. Normally, a note to meet Moreen in her room meant Alicia would have an errand to run or, at the worst, would have to work later that night to cover for someone.
But tonight Alicia was sure Moreen had a different purpose in mind for the summons, and she didn’t particularly want to answer it.
“Come in, Alicia,” came Moreen’s voice from inside, dashing Alicia’s hopes of escaping.
She pushed the door open and gasped, losing her apprehension in spite of herself at the sight of Moreen. The older woman was wrapped in a shimmering gown of resplendent silver, the material giving her such an ethereal quality that Alicia was surprised she couldn’t see right through her to the chair beyond.
“Do you like it?” Moreen asked needlessly, a wry smile on her face. This dress was heads and tails beyond the clothes Moreen had worn to the dance in years past, and there was an obvious explanation for the sudden upgrade in her wardrobe.
“I think you’ll knock him dead, Mo,” Alicia said, and Moreen had the grace to blush as Alicia correctly read the thought behind her words. “Did you just want my opinion? Because I really have some things I should be doing. Finishing the decorations and all. We really should have waited for the Sabbatha[30] for this. At this rate, I’ll be so tired I might not even…”
Alicia trailed off at the look on Moreen’s face.
“You’re going tonight,” she said firmly, confirming Alicia’s worst fears. Her face must have registered her opposition, because Moreen shook a finger at her. “As your employer, I’m directing you to attend tonight’s dance. As your friend, I insist you go.” Moreen paused, her face somber. “And as a woman who knows all too well what it means to be alone, I’m asking you to please go, for your own sake. There is…”
Moreen abruptly stopped, though her face lost none of the near-desperation Alicia saw there. Had Moreen left it at an order by an employer, Alicia might have wriggled her way out of going, but by putting it in the court of their friendship, Moreen had made it nearly impossible for Alicia to refuse. And of course the final urging put the last nail in the barrel, leaving Alicia no way out.
“Alright, Mo,” she acquiesced, sighing. “I’ll go.”
“And you have to wear a dress,” Moreen said gaily, her earlier somberness apparently left behind. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Alicia said resignedly, knowing the older woman wouldn’t let up until she’d agreed. “In that case, I’d better get back to my room so I can pick one out. I assume you’re not going to let me get away with showing up halfway through the night and leaving an hour later?”
Alicia didn’t even have to wait for Moreen’s hard stare before she sighed and threw up her hands in defeat.
“Alright, alright, I’ll go find something appropriate,” Alicia said. She stepped toward the door, then turned back to Moreen. “Was there any other form of punishment you wanted to inflict on me tonight, or was this all?”
“We’ll see,” Moreen said, smiling smugly. “Now get going, or you’ll be late.”
Alicia left the room grumbling, and missed Moreen’s soft comment.
“I think you’ll knock him dead, too, Alicia,” Moreen murmured in satisfaction.
Alicia grumbled to herself all the way back to her room, and it wasn’t until she was almost to her door that she realized her complaints had turned away from having to go to the dance. Instead, she found herself alternating between worrying about not having something appropriate to wear and her surety that Danner would be escorting Deeta.
“What in San’s name is wrong with me?” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t even know him, and here I am worrying that he’ll be dancing with someone else. Get your head on straight, girl,” she ordered herself sternly.
Alicia unlocked her door and moved across the room to open her curtains; there was still just enough light outside to illuminate the room without lanterns. She turned toward her closet and began to rummage through, frowning as she pushed her way back to where she stored her few dresses.
“Where the Hell are they?” she said irritably, still upset. She refused to think about whether she was upset over having to dance or for some other reason. When she reached the back of her closet, Alicia glared at the blank wall and silently cursed.
She turned away from her closet and stopped as something on her bed glinted in the fading sunlight.
“Moreen, you sly little…” she said softly, too stunned to be properly angry with the woman. Moreen had deliberately made her promise to wear a dress, knowing full well that she’d already removed all of Alicia’s other dresses, leaving her only the new one she’d laid out on the bed.
Of course, it wasn’t a bad dress, Alicia thought critically. Then, being completely honest, she admitted it was far better than anything else she owned and would make her look absolutely stunning. A girlish smile crept slowly across her face as she all but hopped across the room to the bed.
“Thanks, Mo,” she said softly, then went to find a basin of water for her hair.
- 2 -
Danner fidgeted with the neck of his tunic, rubbing at his skin as though the garment chaffed. In truth, it was very soft and so comfortable he almost forgot he was wearing it.
Which was exactly the problem. Danner was used to the weight and feel of heavier cloth, and so he always knew exactly where the folds of the cloth were for him to hide coins and trinkets he’d appropriated from passersby. With the weightless material wrapped loosely about him, he felt almost naked.
“What is this stuff called again?” Danner asked, plucking at the midnight blue sleeve. “Sulk?”
“Silk, Danner, it’s elven silk,” Birch said patiently.
Danner knew exactly what it was; how could he not, given its current market value? But he was making his discomfort as plain as possible in a form of subtle protest. Danner wasn’t all that thrilled at going to the dance, since he knew Deeta would be hounding him again. The blonde barmaid had set Danner’s ears aflame at her thinly veiled suggestions as to what might happen later that night if Danner escorted her. With a few stammered protests, he’d managed to stem the worst of her advances.
But with Birch all but dragging him out tonight, it would probably seem to Deeta that Danner had changed his mind and was accepting her offers. Danner shuddered at the thought. The girl was so blatant it made Danner cringe, and on top of which her appearance was so overdone she wasn’t really all that attractive. At least, not compared to Alicia…
Danner coughed, hoping his uncle didn’t see the flush on his face as he thought of the olive-skinned barmaid. Unfortunately, Birch didn’t miss much.
“Don’t worry, Danner,” he said, smiling slightly, “I have Moreen’s word that she’ll be there tonight.”
Danner withheld a sigh of relief that Birch had apparently misinterpreted his reactions, if only slightly. The slight smile on his face told Danner that Birch knew exactly what his nephew had been thinking but had politely left it unmentioned. Danner didn’t especially like to be laughed at, however kindly.
“Relax, nephew,” Birch said easily. “I’ve been there too, lad, and, if it makes you feel any better, your father used to do the same thing to me. I suppose you might think I’m getting back at him through you, but I prefer to think of it as carrying on a tradition among men that’s as old as courtship itself.”
Danner smiled wryly and nodded.
“So where is Maran?” he asked, looking away.
“Right here, Danner,” Maran said from behind him. As Danner turned, the elf stepped into the room from the anteroom where he’d been changing. All three of them wore black trousers that, while not as light and fancy as Danner’s silk tunic, were finer than anything Danner had ever owned. Yet where Danner’s tunic was dark blue, Maran’s was forest green and Birch’s was a steel-gray silver.
Danner wondered whether Birch had deliberately avoided wearing one of the colors of the paladins or if it was mere happenstance. Then he shook his head – everything about Birch was deliberate. His uncle
’s silvery tunic gave a subtle impression of being steel, thus hinting at a paladin’s armor. Which made Danner suspect his and Maran’s own tunics. The elf’s color was obvious, since Maran’s people lived predominantly in forests. The midnight blue hue of Danner’s tunic made him wonder if Birch was subtly poking fun at his less-than-lawful hobbies. Midnight was, after all, the proverbial favored hour of the thief.
Maran smiled lightly at Danner as though following the same line of thought, and after another look in the mirror, Danner reluctantly admitted to himself that the blue did look good on him.
“You look good, to’vala,” Maran said softly. “Perhaps someday soon I shall have to educate you on the finer arts of rubbing elbows with the upper class.”
“More theft per capita?” Birch said lightly. Neither Danner nor Maran bothered to answer that, though Maran winked once at Danner.
“Well then, gentlemen,” Birch said, clapping them each on the shoulder, “shall we?”
Danner slung a light, black coat across his shoulders, completing the garb Birch had bought for him. How the paladin had known Danner’s size, he didn’t know. Maybe Maran had sized him; the elf had an eye for details like that.
- 3 -
Danner winced as the crowd parted and Deeta at last caught sight of him. He was sure the blonde barmaid had been searching for him all night, for she’d certainly seemed to be moving about with a purpose and a questing look in her eye. Until now, Danner had been able to slip in and among the crowd to avoid her notice.
“Rotten Thieves’ Luck,”[31] he grumbled to himself. His constant evasion of Deeta had worked for a while at least, but he had yet to catch sight of Alicia. Birch had promised she would be there, but he hadn’t said when. Already it was more than an hour into the dance, and still she hadn’t appeared.
A nudge at his side brought Danner’s attention sharply around, and he saw Maran drifting by slowly on the dance floor. The elf was partnered with the overweight cook whose food he’d complimented the night before, much to the dismay of a whole platoon of single women that practically hovered at a barely polite distance. At first glance they made an odd pairing, his thin frame deftly guiding her heavier-set body, but after watching them a moment it became apparent they danced quite well together. Danner wasn’t sure if this was because of the cook’s experience or a testament to Maran’s own abilities.
Hunting The Three (The Barrier War) Page 16