Rendering Nirayel-Stepping on Arbitos

by Nathan P. Cardwell

  ***

  Selina's first stop that morning was the same as it had been for the last half-score of seasons. She got dressed, armor and all, and then headed off to her guild for her daily training and workout. She only hoped that this would at some point involve a cup of coffee. A Danish would also be nice, but a muffin would do in a pinch.

  On her way to the guild, she spotted Borin and Marcus standing outside their favorite tavern. Thanks to the new interface, she knew their schedule almost as well as her own. As such, she quickly realized this was not part of their normal morning routine.

  They appeared to be in some discussion. Being curious, both as Selina and Sarah, she moved in closer.

  ***

  "A bear is a bear, and an oak is only just that," began the Midwife. "These are not names, but rather only the natural expression of those definitions we are all born with. All else are the artifice of acclaim, and lay outside the jurisdiction of Nature, until confirmed by another who is willing to embrace that responsibility," she continued, now speaking directly to Jester.

  "Names are the flags preceding identity, yet they also emerge as the symbols rendering what we represent to those whose paths we cross. Oft times they become our forerunner, and in the course of our lives we may be seen as many things to many people. Therein shall our names be the spells invoking such definitions as Leader, Fool, Coward, Hero, Champion, Martyr, or Enemy. For this reason, the responsibility of such taxonomy is both privilege and burden. Dam and Sire shall bear all things in their children's lives, save this one."

  Upon completion of her oration to the Parents and Godfather, the midwife knelt and took the infant from its exhausted mother. She then turned about and unceremoniously plodded into the woods behind the guildhall.

  Jester followed her to the Altar of Life. The small podium was surrounded by ancient stones that are similar, but much smaller to the same Megaliths that encircle all Dryadic portal Hubs. After she had laid the infant on the center stone, the midwife returned back down the path, leaving him to complete the ceremony.

  ***

  He began to approach the child, and then wavered. He suddenly realized that he had no idea how to go about this business. He had never taken part in this ceremony, and there was no training for such rituals. This was a thing of sacred selection and one simply cannot train for spontaneity. He looked upon the infant, unsure of how to proceed. He studied her at some length, hoping for an insight as yet unseen.

  After a time it became obvious there was to be no great revelation. This was just an infant, no different than any other. Reddish pink in color, and about the same size as any other Wood-elf new born. He drew a breath, and then released it, resigning himself to his lack of inspiration. He had obviously been a poor choice for a thing of such import. He would return the child unnamed, that his friends could select another. Surely they could find someone better suited.

  He strode to the altar to retrieve the child, but found himself reluctant to pick her up. She's so small, he thought. She looked fragile. Perhaps he should call for the midwife.

  "I am very sorry," he whispered without realizing.

  At the sound of his voice, her wandering gaze seemed to lock on him briefly, and then continued to roam. Of course, this was only his own imagining. The child was less than an hour in this world. She could hardly be expected to have developed a cognitive sense.

  Still, he found his attention drawn for a closer inspection. "I believe you have your mother's smile," he speculated as he considered her, "as well as her eyes…but those are definitely Merfee's ears." He grinned at the slightly elongated points.

  After a moment, his grin faltered. "These are all gifts that have nothing to do with me. I am of no blood to you, or to anyone, for that matter," he stated. "Still," he whispered, remembering his own upbringing, and the grizzled woman who had taken him in, "I have learned that there are gifts that may come from the heart and follow you all your life, just as surely as those ears will, my dear." He chuckled.

  "So, then." He spoke softly while gently picking her up, his concern for her size forgotten. "What sort of name might befit a Lady such as yourself?"

  As if in answer, he felt a sudden wet warmth soak into his jerkin.

  "Well, my little Goblin grub," he intoned with mock severity. "I believe you'll take to Elfish mischief with great ease indeed!" He laughed heartily, and her eyes opened wide at the sound of that new resonance.

  He looked down at the growing spot of dampness. "I believe I shall name you…Aqua," he announced, and though he had no sense of it himself, his voice rang and reverberated throughout the wood, reaching every ear within Spurious as the resonance of his conviction sealed her christening.

  ***

  "It is done," Nefari smiled sleepily.

  "Aqua, is it?" said Merfee with a proud grin. "Aqua Rainswalker."

  ***

  His amusement at their mutual baptisms prompted a laughter that echoed through the woods as Aqua's sapphire eyes grew yet wider. That response was quickly followed by a line of drool sliding down her chin as her own expanding grin could no longer coordinate its enclosure.

  As he strolled back toward the guildhall by way of the same path, he spoke to her in a soothing tone while she continued to drool helplessly down his back. "…and you should have seen the look on his face!" he told her enthusiastically. "It was like… Oh, well, you're just a big red acorn, aren't you. I nearly split my sides!"

  ***

  "I don't wish to appear the snob, ole boy," Marcus began hesitantly, "but are you quite sure you've thought this through?"

  "It wasn't exactly my idea, Marc. The good Captain sprang it on me right out of nowhere."

  "What?" asked Marcus with a perplexed expression.

  "Well, you didn't think I actually requested such a foofoo assignment, did you?"

  "No, Krue. I'm talking about this notion of yours to escort a common Tailor to a social function."

  Borin met Marc's concerned look with a stern glare. After a moment, he relaxed a bit, proffering a more patient expression. "You're a good friend, Marc," he began, "and I know your concern is only for my best interest…"

  "But mind your own business, Marcus, right?" Marcus smiled.

  "No…I would never tell anyone who holds the Garrison Gnoll kill record to mind his own business." Borin laughed, though Marcus still bore a skeptical expression.

  Borin sighed. He had a choice. He could either elaborate on his reasoning, or confirm that Marcus should indeed butt out. Good friends like Marc were too rare for him to go about ostracizing one of them.

  "I like Pet. She's not afraid to speak her mind. Most of the women I meet are either too proper, or improper. Do you know what I mean?"

  "Pet?"

  "Petunia."

  "Oh. Well, I understand perfectly, truly I do, and I respect your decision, really. I just hope you don't find your social standing compromised in light of your upcoming political office."

  "Well, I think he's lost his mind!" Selina intoned with disdain.

  "How long have you been standing there?" demanded Borin in a tone just short of shouting.

  "Long enough to hear that you intend to dally with a harlot as a matter of public exhibition."

  "Mind your own business, Selina!" Borin warned.

  "It's all well and good to go slumming about with barmaids, Krue," she continued, without regard to his last statement. "Not that you actually accomplished anything in that respect, but to parade some common tramp right in front of your own father is nothing short of scandalous," she concluded with an air of superiority.

  Realizing that a possible confrontation loomed, Marcus stepped between them. Selina and Borin had never really gotten along well. Their personalities were of such opposing natures as to clash. What had always balanced everything out was Marcus, who naturally took on the role of peacemaker.

  "For your information," Borin began while appearing to search for some way to circumvent the wall Marcus posed, "in reference t
o the young Lady in question, who just happens to be employed as a barmaid, I did indeed accomplish something in 'that respect!'"

  Borin had not given thought to what response to expect. Where Selina was concerned, expectation was usually folly. Still, her reaction to his confirmed conquest was nothing he could have ever predicted.

  At first, she simply stood there with an expression closely resembling shocked disbelief. After a moment, her shoulders dropped, as did her previously blazing glare. Absently, she turned away from them. After a moment she simply said, "I have to go now," her tone similar to the look in her eyes that neither Borin, nor Marcus could see. Then, she simply walked away, as if their previous confrontation had never taken place, and leaving both of her friends to stare after her for several moments, neither able to make sense of what had just happened.

  "Well, that was about the oddest performance I've witnessed yet," Borin declared.

  "Selina has been one of my dearest friends for as long as I can remember," Marcus began. "It's true, she's always had a rather…eccentric nature, but still…"

  "Yes?" Borin prompted.

  "Well, I must admit, she's been rather distracted of late-even more so than usual, and in Selina's case, that is no small statement."

  "I believe I know what vexes the wench," Borin announced with authority.

  "I implore you, then," responded Marcus. "Do not leave me in this state of doubt and worry."

  "Quite simply put, our young Selina is of an age when girls become women," Borin stated matter-of-factly.

  Marcus restrained an abrupt tightening of facial muscles. "I assure you, our friend made that transition some summers back. I know, because she insisted that I go with her on her first purchase of a training harness. A most embarrassing experience on my part, I might add."

  "Dolt! I speak not of the body, but the heart."

  "You're not that much older than she is, yourself," intoned Marcus patiently. "What qualifies you to diagnose such a thing?"

  "Men are simply more experienced in such matters," he offered, his relaxed tone lending a sage-like quality to his haughty expression.

  "I see," said Marcus, trying to maintain a straight face. "And you believe she has become…enamored with you?"

  "Not me, you Bumpkin! She barely tolerates me!"

  Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You don't mean to imply that she's set her cap for me?"

  "Ask yourself this, Marc. Why else would she all of the sudden act so oddly? Between the both of us, she has exhibited this strange behavior on only two occasions. Once, only a few moments ago, and once before, as you described to me her distractions, last night, while I was not in her company. In fact, you were the only person in her company at the time, yes?"

  Chapter Three-An Occasion To Remember

  She really didn't wish to alienate Marcus. So far, he's the only person-or N.P.C.-whatever. He's just about the only one who's taken enough of an interest to actually help me-or Selina. Or whatever. Only now she found herself wearing an evening gown, and attending what apparently passed for prom night here on Planet Camelot. Strangest of all, her date was someone who was suppose to think of her as nothing more remarkable than just one of the guys, yet had quite suddenly begun to act as if he only recently discovered that she had mammary glands.

  As she started to ascend the staircase under his escort, Sarah once again caught herself casting wary sidelong glances at him.

  As was customary, he offered his arm, and though she took it hesitantly, Selina's memories kept coming up with the same question. All right, Marc, what's the punch line?

  As if in response, he merely broadened a warm smile that was beginning to appear as if it might become a permanent fixture.

  She quickly looked the other way, so as to avoid, hopefully, sending the wrong signal. What's the equivalent for pepper spray in this world? she wondered rhetorically.

  replied her Selina memory.

  Sarah smiled involuntarily at the image of casting such on Marcus. Ahh, yes, the old cold shower spell, she thought, almost breaking into an open smirk.

  When he caught sight of her face, he broadened his own beaming accordingly, thus prompting her immediately to drop her own expression back to neutral, if for no other reason but to avoid any possible damage Marcus might do himself as his smile threatened to overlap his ears.

  Granted, her own behavior as Selina must have appeared somewhat out of character, especially in reference to her reaction to Dieter/Borin's announcement concerning that barmaid . At the time, her heart rate must have shot right into orbit, as Kwibee had threatened to sever the connection if she didn't calm herself.

  About half an hour later, Marcus had showed up at the guildhall officially to request her company to the upcoming appointment ceremony. It was all very formal, as if he weren't speaking to a friend at all, but rather someone else altogether. With no forewarning, she could think of no excuse, so she had said yes, not that she wished to exact revenge on Dieter, who had no actual part in such goings-on. I wouldn't mind taking a crack at that barmaid though.

  When she explained the situation to Kwibee, he said he would look into it, but that he suspected the source of the aberration had something to do with her own interaction, otherwise the program's social format was unlikely to deviate in such a way. She was not sure what he had meant by that, but she didn't like the sound of it. She couldn't tell if he was referring to some aspect of the game's response to the filter, or if he might be accusing her of some impropriety. Of course, to look at him, she imagined Kwibee's idea of social format might just involve a test tube, and perhaps the latest copy of Ultra Science Quarterly . Either way, it was becoming quite clear that the good Doctor was far less interested in current events, other than in discovering what light those events might shed on his precious data correlation of DIT integrity assessment, sequential chronomic rosters, security grid evaluations, and bla, bla, bla!

  At least the new interface was working, and much easier to cope with now. The absence of Selina's thoughts continuously creeping into her own was a welcome change. She still had Selina's experiences and memories to draw upon when needed. Only now, she was in total control. Now it was more like accessing a library of information that responded according to the situation. The main improvement was her ability to shut it down if need be, which was beginning to bolster her confidence while interacting in this world. Or rather, it did until she caught sight of Jesterwolf.

  ***

  In her all too short message, Petunia had regretfully excused herself from attending the ceremony, as her official duties must preempt any social priority. She offered her regrets, sincerest apology, and then her signature. The messenger had not tarried long enough for a response. Considering the content of the message, he had no doubt been specifically instructed in the matter.

  What duties? he thought. Whatever duties a Tailor might have in relation to such a function would most assuredly have been completed beforehand. There wasn't a great call for sewing as a form of entertainment. Obviously someone had convinced her to stay away. But who?

  At first, he thought of Selina. Upon closer examination, he realized she would not have had the influence to effect such a thing, though she probably tried.

  Marc had shown concern, but would never overstep the bounds of their friendship.

  His Father was the least likely. He loathed Class-related prejudices almost as much as racial bigotry.

  No, this was more like the Magistrate's handiwork. Borin did not appreciate such tampering in his personal affairs, yet considering the probable source, there was little he could do about it.

  His attention was drawn back to the business at hand by Colonel Clawtorn's heralding. "Announcing Lady Agupy Thindell! Ambassador to Aphoris and all adjacent provinces of the Aphorine Republic!"

  As the announcement ended, another in
a long procession of dignitaries stepped forward to make his acquaintance. If not for the size of her headdress, a gaudy thing almost twice the woman's own height, he would not have even seen the little Gnome Ambassador.

  Despite their lack of size, he had always considered Gnomes a handsome race. This woman however, was a thorough exception to the rule. She was not really old: perhaps two hundred, or maybe as much as two hundred fifty summers, but no more than that. She was middle-aged at best. Still, her face was quite difficult to look upon. Her beady eyes, both closely set and crossed, with the left angled inside at four o'clock while the right pitched at its own inwardly independent slant of ten o'clock, thus challenging his focus of attention as he unavoidably wandered from AM to PM. His dismay was then further advanced as he discovered the right to be pale blue, whereas the left was actually of a darker brown.

  In an effort to avoid offering an insult, he quickly bowed, kissed her hand, and then made a desperate attempt to concentrate on the spot between the woman's eyes, hoping this would avoid further discomfort to all involved. This was when he discovered that the spot in question was also where the Lady's eyebrows met. Thus when she raised said uni-brow, he was invariably drawn again to her most disconcerting ocular entanglement in order to avoid the rudeness of staring at her forehead.

  Realizing his difficulty, the woman commenced to giggle, thus displaying her irregular arrangement of intermittent teeth. "My apologies, Ambassador," she offered. "I oft-times overlook the effect my appearance has on some folk."

  "Ummm…no. I'm not…affected. I mean…you're really quite…lovely…really."

  Still chuckling, she reached into her handbag and withdrew a small pair of odd-looking spectacles with lenses crafted in some thick type of prismatic crystal, obviously of some magical nature. This was evident as they generated a faint shimmer for only the briefest of moments while she put them on. When she looked back up at him, both eyes were perfectly aligned. What's more, neither was blue, nor yet brown, as both were now green.