“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 els
e 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.
“You and I can do things, too,” Fiona whispered in her ear, trying to cheer her up, nudging her playfully. Melissa pushed her away with a disgusted expression.
“Never mind her,” Dirk said. “We’ll decide later. Right now we need somewhere to explore before snowfall.”
“I said I’d do it,” Fiona said. “Now take us out, Mr. Bessemer. Treat us richly with all your money.” She pushed him out the door and locked it behind him, then spoke through it. “We’ll be down when we’re ready.” She and Melissa brushed their hair and Fiona put on her face and lip paints, then they joined Dirk for the evening.
It was two nights later, when returning from work, that Dirk found Melissa and Fiona sitting on his bed. “How are my little cloak thieves today?” Dirk asked curiously then he saw the map laid out before the girls on his blanket and hurried over. “Hello?”
“Hello,” Melissa said.
“Hi, sexy,” is what Fiona said, grabbing his buttocks. He smacked her hand away.
“Well?” he asked. “Where? Where!”
“Here,” Fiona said, pointing at a spot, placing her other hand on his butt again. This time it was Melissa who slapped her hand, casting Fiona a baneful glance as well. “It’s called the ruins of Tiladir. I haven’t heard of any expeditions there recently. We should be able to find something. The ancient city was founded by King Thegoric, the leader of a semi-nomadic people called the Lusfarrens, who long inhabited The High Moors. He led them there and built the city, believing that Halicor, the patron deity of his people, had called for them to settle down.
“Wow!” Dirk said. “Real ruins. Real adventure.” He took out his sword and swung it around. And so, Dirk’s first adventure started.
It was a week before everyone in the group was ready. Selric and Cinder were invited, and Melissa did not argue when pressed by the others as to Cinder’s accompaniment. Cinder was unable to take time away from her job so she quit when Dirk promised he would hire her at Bessemer’s upon their return, if she would accompany them. She was reluctant at first, but thought it might be “neat” to be out in the Wild again, especially with Dirk and Selric. She was curious to see what so interested them about old ruins of ancient civilizations, civilizations her own mother had seen in their prime.
Fiona and Melissa asked for, and received, vacation time from their employer, provided they found at least one replacement. Delsenar was not happy, but if he wanted to retain skilled fighters, he had to let them go once in a while to hone their craft, or so Fiona warned him: she was very convincing. And due to recent circumstances in Andrelia, he wanted his most loyal guards back. Fiona and Melissa hired a dog and two man team, as Dirk had done, with their own money, so that they could keep their jobs. They had to pay them nearly what they would have made and so spent what little money they had saved up, counting on finding some type of treasure on their adventure.
When Dirk finished packing the night before they were to leave, he went to check on Melissa and Fiona. It was here that he discovered the change at the house. When he was let in by Marlo, Melissa and a man Dirk did not know were sitting on the couch talking, each with a beer. Dirk walked in, angry. Melissa and the man looked up at him, but Dirk did not say anything.
“Hi, Dirk. This is Aldren,” said Melissa, rising to hug him.
“Hi,” said Aldren, standing and holding out his hand. Dirk shook it. Aldren was nearly as tall as Dirk, hard but lean, his hair brown, and his skin deeply tanned. Dirk guessed him to be an outdoorsman of some type. He bore that rough, backwoods-ish severity about him, yet a strange regality.
“Aldren is Anna’s replacement,” Melissa said, but as she looked at Dirk, her smile faded and she looked away. Dirk knew she was hiding something. She could never lie to him; her conscience was too strong; her affection for him too mov
ing. “I’ll get you a beer,” she said, hurrying into the kitchen.
Melissa filled a mug and when she turned, Dirk was right behind her. “Who is he?” he pressed.
“I told you.” She handed Dirk his drink.
“You’re lying to me. Did you do it with him?” he asked jealously.
“No! And no, I’m not lying,” she said, growing upset. “I’m not lying about him. Why? Are you jealous? How’s it feel?” she said, the spite in her voice stinging Dirk.
“I’m not jealous,” he lied. “Then what about Anna?” he asked, changing subjects.
“She’s dead,” Melissa said, turning and seizing another mug. Dirk spun Melissa back around and she set the drinks down.
“Don’t turn away. I want to see your face,” he said. “Fiona put you up to something, didn’t she?”
“Stop it!” Melissa screamed, covering her ears, her guilt growing.
“Tell me! How did she die?”
“Delsenar was ambushed. Anna was shot with an arrow.”
“Why?” Dirk asked. “Who did it?” He shook her. Melissa kept her ears covered and ran out like a stubborn child, breaking his hold. He followed her past Aldren, who watched them curiously, and up the stairs where she ran into Anna’s old room and slammed the door.
Dirk went inside. Fiona was there, in her bed, resting. Dirk could tell by Fiona’s personal items lying about, that she was now living in the room. Melissa sat next to her, looking mournfully at Dirk, her brown eyes large and sad. Dirk then noticed Fiona’s arm was in a sling.
“Where’s Anna?” he demanded.
“She died,” Fiona said. “We were ambushed. She was killed and I was wounded.” She held up her arm in evidence.
“Why don’t you heal yourself, priestess?” Dirk asked gleefully, feeling he had caught her in a lie, pointing at the young woman triumphantly.
“I did,” she said, leaving Dirk momentarily speechless.
“Then why the sling?”
“I don’t want everyone, especially my boss, to know I’m a priestess. Aura Painbliss is not a well understood goddess and the temple is still a secret outside of this house.”
By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) Page 24