by H. A. Harvey
Nian gestured for Autumn to turn toward the inn and followed her to stop the wagon before the entrance. When Nian caught the others up on the Sattal’s offer, they agreed that it would be best to at least see what was afoot. Malor would have to remain near Axios to maintain his enchantment, and Kaesa had no desire to lounge about a public room while practically naked, as she put it. So the group determined that they and Rowan, as their ‘beast tamer’, would set up in the fallow field Ates had mentioned while the rest went inside.
Stepping inside The Den, Nian’s heart leapt into his throat. The tables to either side of the door were each occupied by a half-dozen armed infantry soldiers. The crowded tavern floor bustled with activity, but Nian found it impossible to focus on anything beyond the armed men as he remembered to his chagrin that they had left most of their weapons in the wagon, along with their ogre and their wizard. Autumn twined her tawny arm around Nian’s at the elbow and murmured into his ear.
“If they were here to ambush us, they’d have weapons drawn.” She whispered, “Remember, you’re the ringmaster. The last thing soldiers will expect is for a fugitive to stand right in front of them unarmed and outnumbered.”
Nian felt more at ease with Autumn on his arm. It felt different with her masque on, and he thought it uncanny that he couldn’t tell even by touch that her human guise wasn’t real flesh. Still, he knew it was her, and that steadied him. It felt like it had been years since he’d plied his skill at carousing. He grinned and patted Autumn’s hand in genuine gratitude.
“What a wonderful idea, my dear!” Nian praised Autumn loudly with a broad grin as he strode jovially toward the table on his right, ensuring Autumn stayed close at his side. “Pardon me, good fellows. My darling wife pointed out what a rare opportunity we have to express thanks to the men who keep the roads safe. If you wouldn’t be too offended, I should like to have your cups refilled, on behalf of the Carnivale of Myst!”
The soldiers grinned at each other. Free booze was a universal remedy to soldiers’ mistrust of outsiders. They heartily agreed and even invited Nian and his friends to sit at a nearby table with them. Before Nian could invent a reason to decline, Ates appeared at his side.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen.” The odd fellow said with a deep bow, “The ringmaster is answering an invitation to call on the owner, though I’m certain the rest of his troupe would be happy to entertain you while they wait.”
Ates turned and beckoned politely for Nian to follow. Autumn went to release his arm, but he tugged her along with him. Their odd little escort led them to the rear of the tavern where a long stair zigzagged its way up the wall to an elevated balcony that overlooked the main floor and had catwalks that looked to lead on to the rooms at the front of the second floor and likely the third as well. Autumn slowed Nian as they followed Ates.
“Wife?” She murmured the word without clue as to whether she was upset or not.
“I thought it would be a good way to keep folks from coming after you for the wrong sort of entertainment.” Nian paused for a moment, then cringed a little inwardly as he added, “And maybe give you a chance to see if you’d like how it fit.”
Autumn didn’t say anything back. Nian was left to wonder if she were upset, or just waiting for a better time to say no. He could kick himself for asking like that anyway. He should have waited and found flowers, maybe someone to sing or play music. Nian was on the verge of asking how bad he’d fouled up when he realized they’d reached the top of the stair where Ates waited for them.
“Welcome to The Den, my friends.” Ates said, gesturing elegantly with one hand toward a large table set in the back corner of the balcony, largely concealed by a silk curtain. “Uncle Dante and my cousin are waiting to see you.”
Nian paused and looked at Autumn. She gave no clue that they’d been speaking of anything important at all and inclined her head toward the corner. For the first time since he’d met her, Nian hated that Dryads only made expressions they wanted to make, and her masque made it worse as he couldn’t even try reading her eyes. Nian sighed and crossed the balcony to the veiled table. Ates drew the curtain aside as they arrived, revealing the black and white girl with golden eyes sitting next to an almost impossibly fat calico Sattal, reclining upon a luxurious couch. The girl sat forward, seeming a little upset.
“The invitation was for the ringmaster.” She directed her silky voice at Ates.
Ates bowed and replied apologetically, “I used your words, cousin. My apologies if they were misunderstood.”
Autumn turned to go, but Nian didn’t release her hand.
“It’s fine, dear.” Autumn assured him demurely, “I can wait with the others.”
“I don’t feel welcome where you aren’t.” Nian insisted. “If that’s the extent of the hospitality here, I’ll decline.”
“No, no!” The girl assured him quickly, “I meant no insult. I was only surprised. Please, make yourselves comfortable, but I’m afraid I had only one place set. I would beg one favor however.”
“Alright.” Nian agreed warily, “If she can stay and it’s not anything drastic.”
“I would be grateful if the Dryad could drop her masque.” The Sattal spoke softly, “Seeing double for very long gives me a headache.”
When Nian and Autumn hesitated slightly, the calico spoke, “Tha folk below don’t see up here, if you are worried about your identity.”
Autumn shrugged and withdrew her hand from Nian’s arm. Securing the waistband of her trousers with her hand, she suddenly stopped being the sultry, raven-haired human woman and was back to her normal aspen skin and gold-tinged red hair. Autumn sat quickly in her now baggy clothes and Nian eased down next to her.
“That is much better, a thousand thanks.” The golden-eyed girl nodded gratefully. “I suppose introductions are overdue. My name is Eulalia. You have met my cousin Ates, and this is Uncle Dante. We are guests at his inn.”
Nian started to respond but Autumn cut him off, “I’m Autumn, and this is Nian.”
“Your travelling names?” Ates asked.
“No.” Autumn looked at Nian, “I wager seeing through assumed names would be simple compared to piercing a Fae masque.”
“Fair enough.” Eulalia smiled and gestured to the platter at the center of the table, piled high with grapes and apples stacked around a carved, roasted bird that smelled of honey and sage. “Please, refresh yourselves. I’m certain you have been on the road for some time.”
“Thank you,” Nian nodded, “But at the moment, I’m more interested in learning why I seem to have drawn your attention.”
“It is considered terribly rude,” Ates objected, “For a Sattal to discuss business without first seeing to the wants of his guests.”
Dante leaned forward and began filling glasses from a pitcher of white wine. A wave from his other hand brought a young Sattal boy running.
“Fetch another glass.” The calico smiled hospitably as he continued to pour and the boy scampered off to find the fat feline another wine glass. “Might I suggest a compromise? We can sate both hunger and curiosity at tha same time. And as your curiosity could be a considered a want, it is not truly a breach of protocol.”
Uncle Dante spoke with the air of someone who was used to getting his way. Nian got the distinct impression that his suggestion might as well be law. He nodded and accepted a wine glass as Ates served him a plate of food. Eulalia performed the same service for Autumn. Once the guests were both served, they each set a plate for themselves. By the time they had finished, the boy returned with the additional glass as well as utensils and a fifth plate. Uncle Dante served himself as Eulalia started speaking.
“Your brooch.” She said evenly, “I find it curious that all your trappings are of the finest silk, and fitted with silver buckles and trim . . . yet you wear such a plain wooden implement to fasten your cloak.”
“Out of everything el
se, you fixated upon this?” Nian looked down at his brooch incredulously.
“My cousin Lally has an eye for detail.” Ates explained, “And curiosity is a notorious weakness among the Family.”
“My curiosity is the sole motive for my reserving judgment on the other oddities I saw.” Eulalia stated flatly.
“It was a parting gift.” Nian stated simply. “I find that makes it more valuable than silver or even gold. Besides, I was told it would bring me luck and I can use all of that I can get.”
“Indeed it may.” Ates nodded. “Do you know where the Sattal who gave it to you went?”
Nian swallowed and looked down at his plate, “He died.”
“He lost his life in the effort that saved mine.” Autumn added quickly.
The feline hosts sat in silence for several moments. Finally, Ates stood and walked around the couch, reaching to help Eulalia to her feet. When she brushed off his offered hand, he turned to Autumn.
“Miss Autumn, your clothes do not seem to fit well without your mask. May I bring you to my cousin’s room? You seem to be near her size and I am certain we can find something more comfortable. I would, of course, leave the room while you change.”
Nian started to object, but Autumn silenced him with a palm on his forearm. She rose and left with Ates along one of the narrow catwalks that crossed to the front of the building. Dante sat sipping his wine as the Dryad vanished with her odd little escort.
“Did Kolel die alone?” Eulalia finally asked softly.
“No, he was with friends who loved him dearly, though they’d only known him a short while.” Nian answered quickly, then paused as he realized he had not mentioned Kolel’s name. “You knew him.”
“Kolel was my father.” Eulalia smiled. “I am glad he was with friends, but still curious about how he came to mark you as a Friend.”
Something in the almost reverent way she said the word friend struck Nian as odd. It occurred to him that the same sort of odd tone was present whenever she or Ates spoke of Uncle Dante, and had also set apart when Kolel spoke of having a Cousin and when Antes referred to Eulalia as cousin. He looked down at his wooden brooch.
“First tell me how this little hoop of wood marks me as anything.”
Eulalia looked at Uncle Dante. He paused at enjoying his meal long enough to nod.
“Did you know that Sattal do not have a spoken language?”
Nian shook his head.
“We prefer to dwell unobtrusively among others, and it was felt among tha Family that speaking in a tongue unfamiliar to those around them was not only rude, but generated discomfort and mistrust.” Dante explained, “But, our boon is that of singularly unmatched craftsmanship. There is hardly a single member of the Family that does not have a hobby of creating some manner of ware that makes tha most skilled of artisans jealous.”
“This boon isn’t like the Orcs’ Warbringer, or the Human Adept.” Eulalia picked up the explanation. “Kings and warlords of every sort could easily enslave the Family and steal the products of our gift. So, the Family developed a method of looking out for each other.”
“That explains all the cousins,” Nian interrupted in frustration. “But not the brooch.”
“In our boon, we found a gift that allows us a sort of language all our own.” Eulalia continued patiently, “We can see minute things within any worked item. Peculiarities of an artist’s brush strokes, the weave of a fabric, hammer-fall patterns upon a blade, or odd tweaks in the curl of a floral embellishment. A Sattal craftsman can give an order to these peculiarities that is a sort of language to us. Some things we make to send messages or mark a wearer or bearer of the item. Such things are usually intentionally made as plain as possible, so as to be unlikely to be stolen.”
Nian unfastened his brooch and examined it in his hands. It looked like a simple piece of oak knotwood, lent a bit of stain and character by the dirt and ash along the road. The blunt, wooden pin had a small star upon the end, and there was vine-work etching along the ring, but he couldn’t see anything that could be pattern enough to be called writing. He’d always figured it might be a magic trinket, or have some sort of superstitious Luck to it, or even that Kolel had just wanted Nian to feel he wasn’t being left out when Kolel gave Riona his sword.
“So, what does this say?” Nian kept staring at the brooch.
“It says tha wearer is a Friend.” Uncle Dante answered, “And that it is important to provide any help that can be given, but more important that you not be interfered with.”
“What part is his signature?”
“Sattal do not bother with maker’s marks or signing their work.” Eulalia answered patiently.
“Then how did you know Kolel gave me this?”
“If you heard your father speaking from the other side of this curtain, would you know it was him?” She answered simply. “Everyone’s work carries a piece of them, and its marks are uniquely their own.”
“I’m sorry. About your father, I mean.” Nian murmured, refastening the brooch onto his cloak. “He taught me more than I can hope to repay.”
“It is alright,” Eulalia smiled. “Kolel knew his wanderlust would mean his story would finish somewhere on the road instead of home in Illien. He said as much once. It’s the primary reason that he had me follow along on his second journey. I don’t think he expected to make it back to the Mythril Coast. He’d either find his Luck running short along the road, or finally become too frail to travel and have to take up a house along his trade routes.”
“Still, I can’t imagine knowing the day would come eventually makes the news any easier to hear.” Nian queried, “You don’t even seem sad.”
“Thank you.” Eulalia nodded, then perceived the confused look on Nian’s face. “Ates was giving me an excuse to leave the table earlier. I declined because I felt I could maintain myself. Like our lack of language, and the hospitality before business, many of our ways are intended to ensure we don’t inconvenience those around us. I will mourn later, when it will not disturb others or burden the messenger.”
“Um,” Nian didn’t quite get how someone could put off reacting when something like that smacked them in the face. “Why tell me that?”
“Because you seemed interested, and because you are a Friend of the Family.” Eulalia answered and the calico nodded.
“No one who is not a Friend is ever told any of what we have discussed since Autumn left tha table.” Uncle Dante added. “The quiet nature of tha Family is one of our two most sacred traditions that keep us safe. I trust that, as a Friend, you will keep such things in confidence. Now, let us discuss how we can help you.”
. . .
“If ye keep staring at me, I’m going to punch ye.” Kaesa growled without looking up. “I know dis costume is stupid.”
Rowan blinked and looked away more than a little embarrassed. He cleared his throat and went over to help pitch the pavilion. Kaesa eyed him dangerously as he smiled and ‘helped’ her haul the rope tight.
“Weird, having a wizard along.” He stated casually, hoping to change the subject, “A cloak and a couple loose nails from the wagon and we’ve got a small circus tent out of nowhere. You’d think he could just make an imaginary tent like the wagon’s all dressed up. You know, instead of having us pitch this stupid thing.”
Kaesa grunted. Rowan smirked to himself. Kaesa was such a strange bird. Even with her hair cut short and all spiked up, her soft, fair features made her look like some delicate noblewoman. Yet, every aspect of her mannerisms was anything but delicate or ladylike. She grunted like a man, sometimes spat, and talked of little aside from metalworking, hunting the horrors of Nilheim, and of course general threats to punch or break things. Rowan’s chain of thought was disrupted by Malor’s voice behind him.
“I have enough constant maintenance to manage at the moment, Rowan. Besides, having a prestidigitat
or claiming to be a wizard do a few tricks in your town is entertainment. A real one is almost invariably a threat and center of the wrong sort of attention for us. You should also keep in mind that a wizard can like as not overhear what you’re saying about him, some can even see into your head.” Malor chuckled and walked away as he added, “By the way, he was looking less at your costume, and more at your legs.”
Kaesa’s eyes shot up to meet Rowan’s. Shit. If the wizard had been bluffing or Kaesa hadn’t fully believed him before, he was rather certain his own expression sealed the deal. Before Rowan could assemble some sort of response, Kaesa loosed her hold on the tent rope and stalked off into the orchard as the collapsing pavilion jerked Rowan off his feet.
Rowan untangled himself from the stupid tent to find Kaesa gone and the wizard and the bear staring at him. Both looked on the verge of laughter. Rowan grumbled as he scrambled back to his feet. He decided to ignore the damn wizard and chase after Kaesa. It’d probably be best to try and explain before she came back to wring his neck.
Kaesa’s trail was less obvious when she was lighter by more than half without her armor, but Rowan had an easy enough time following. He trailed her to a well-house near the center of the orchard. Kaesa wasn’t in sight and her foot trail left off at the building’s door. Rowan stepped up quietly to the door and gave a knock.
“Kaesa? I think we should talk.”
As Rowan waited for an answer, he fiddled idly with the old stonework of the well-house. His picking fingers dislodged a chip of mortar that fell at his feet. Looking down, Rowan noted the light impression of a boot-print at the edge of the foundation leading around the corner. He was just putting together that Kaesa hadn’t gone inside at all when the Njord caught the shoulder of his shirt, spun him around and pinned him against the stone wall with almost enough force to knock the wind from him.