Forty-one

Cyran wandered through the misty landscape, at times it was countryside, along the road from Withia or the fields he remembered around the orphanage as a child, at times it was a grey city, devoid of people. He held up his torch to light the way, at times on his wandering it was a sword or a staff, everything was changing, shifting in the mist and shadows. His clothes remained white, and the world was silent, even when he called out for his father, for Brother Somi, for his brothers. As something dark swirled in the mist near him he tried to call out for Syreilla.

He woke with a start and she was standing at his bedside looking down at him with an odd smile.

“I had a dream, Syreilla.” He sat up and tried to rub the sleep from his face, “I was wandering in a mist, all around me things changed, places, trees, buildings, even the things I held in my hand. When I called out for my father there was only silence. I called for my brothers, and for Brother Somi and even my voice was silent, but when I called out for you, you woke me. What does it mean?”

“I don’t know, I was never good with dreams, cousin.” She stepped back. “Master Odos used to say the only thing that stays the same is that everything changes. Perhaps you should speak to him about it? He has a way with words and more experience than I do.”

“I sometimes think he isn’t fond of me. He gives me peculiar looks.”

“What were you doing when he was giving you looks?” She broke into a grin, “I don’t like to repeat myself but he’s worse, sometimes he doesn’t like to have say things out loud. Part of the education I got from him was connecting cause and effect very quickly. I suspect he went soft on the Magpie.” Syreilla glanced in the direction of Kwes’ room.

“I don’t know. Nothing wrong, I’m certain.”

“If he was giving you looks, he disagrees.” She shook her head. “I’ll have to wait to go into the mine until someone arrives, there’s a priest coming from Grimgrip’s mine. Until then I’m going to try to get a few things done. I can’t stand to sit idle. As long as you stay here in Lew-”

“I want to come with you, Syreilla. You promised that I could come with you and watch as closely as I wished. I want to learn. You know I can’t promise not to use what I learn against you but I won’t do it while you’re teaching me. I give you my word.”

“She’s teaching you even though you might use it against her?” Kwes' surprised question distracted him from the suddenly flat look on Syreilla’s face.

“When I told her the divinity might ask it of me, she said she learned from mages and mages expect it. She isn’t teaching me anything that can truly harm her.” He looked at the half-elf in the doorway more closely; he was dressed almost as Syreilla was. “Are you wearing new clothing?” 

“It’s mine, someone managed to find it in my things and lay it on the bed for me.”

“I did.” Lady Rook turned and looked him up and down, “I may have dust on my feathers but you still look a little,” she made a gesture, wiggling her fingers, “shiny and clean to me, little brother.”

“We haven’t gone anywhere to get dirty yet, have we?” Kwes grinned and for a moment strongly resembled her.

“Where are we going?” Cyran rose and began to dress.

“How was your business in Brosa?” Kwes leaned in the doorway. “Is Edun going to be safe?”

“Uncle had his priests work the people of Brosa up so much about my visit that they burned down his temple for me.” She was grinning madly when Cyran turned to stare at her. “We had a discussion about what will happen if he goes after innocent children to strike at me. The goddess of war stepped out of my way, refusing to defend him, and he left Brosa. She and I had a long chat about my use of dragon’s fire in her temple but, on the whole it went well. Edun should be safe, I think Uncle may be afraid of what I’ll do to him if he harms the boy.”

Kwes laughed and Syreilla made an impatient gesture for Cyran to finish dressing. 

“Where do you think Master Odos went?”

“The old man keeps himself busy. His step seems a little slower than it used to be, it may be best if he worries about,” she paused, “whatever else it is he worries about.”

Cyran had put on his light, white armor so often it came easily, covering it with plain clothes felt peculiar but he doubted the half-elves would understand. As he turned, pulling his soap filled jacket over the shirt and armor, Lady Rook was eying him thoughtfully.

“Magpie agreed to help me with something and then I’ll help him with a task. You can come along and learn something if you’d like but this all needs to be done quickly and I don’t have time to coddle you.”

“Of course.” He tied on his belt and sword. “Where are we going?” 

“I’ve been given permission to use Master Odos’ door. Uncle’s makes a sound and Master Odos’ is nearly silent. As for where… You’ll find out when we get there.” Lady Rook gave Kwes a speculative glance, “Pull on something that makes you look wealthy over top of your work clothes and bring a purse. We can discuss the details closer to our mark.”