Suriax (7 page)

“I talked to Kern through our rings last
night. He said we should make our way into Aleria. He found a
merchant who may be receptive to help us given the proper financial
incentive. The man won’t be back in Suriax for a couple of days,
though, so we have to bide our time until then. I know a few people
with homes near the river. We may be able to hide out there while
we wait. After breakfast, I’ll hike out that way and see what I can
work out.” Thomas looked over at Frex and lowered his tone so only
Marcy could hear. “When I get back, you can leave if you like.
Right now, the only people who knew you were helping Kern are dead.
If anyone else finds out, you may have to leave the city for good.
Leave now, and you can go back to your life like nothing
happened.”

“I promised Kern I would watch after
him.”

Thomas busied himself packing the cooking
supplies into his pack. “It was Kern’s suggestion. He frees you
from your promise.”

Marcy felt strangely conflicted. If he freed
her she should be able to walk away guilt free. She looked at Frex.
She still felt responsible for him. If she left, who would take
care of him when Thomas was busy keeping them safe? Who would be
there to take a watch or be a second set of ears? And if she left
she would probably never see Thomas again. For some reason she
couldn’t begin to understand, that thought bothered her almost as
much as anything else. “I can’t. I need to see this through.”

“For Kern.” He nodded his understanding, a
hint of resignation in his voice.”

Marcy felt the irrational urge to slap him.
Here she was feeling bad for leaving him to handle all this on his
own, and he had the nerve to sound disappointed that she was
sticking around. “Well if you don’t want me to stay . . .”

“What?” Thomas looked up confused. Even Frex
looked up from his plate at her outburst. “No, I just . . . I
figured . . . why exactly are you angry?”

If she had been in a better mood, she may
have laughed at his confused expression. As it was, she couldn’t
stand to be around him anymore. “I’m going to freshen up.” Grabbing
her bag, she left.

* * *

“Stop holding back.”

Mirerien pulled back her hammer and swung
with all her strength. Collin easily blocked her blow by deflecting
the energy down and out with his shield. Spinning, he swung his
sword around, even with her arm. She sidestepped and used her
momentum to bring the hammer back around and up. A few inches
closer, and it would have hit him under the chin. “You are making
it too easy,” he complained. “I didn’t even have to dodge that
one.”

“This is only training.” She advanced her
attack and pushed him back a few steps.

“You must train how you want to fight in an
actual battle. If you hold back here, you may hesitate or hold back
in a real fight. Your enemies will not hold back.”

“Are you?” she shot back.

“Fair enough. So what do you say we both stop
playing around and give this a good go?” They shared a grin and
began fighting in earnest. The match raged until the mid-day sun
was high in the sky. At some point, Mirerien became aware of an
audience. Her nieces and nephews lined the edge of the sidewalk,
watching and cheering when she landed a good blow. Exhausted and
out of breath, they flew into a flurry of blows heightened with
grace she thought long since spent. Breaking from a particularly
complicated attack run, they looked at each other and nodded.
Mirerien dropped her hammer through its loop, and Collin followed
suit with his blade. The children yelled excitedly and ran up to
congratulate her on her performance. Collin smiled and left.

“That was impressive,” Pielere, commented. “I
see your training is progressing nicely.

She nodded. “He is an excellent teacher.
Thank you for recommending him.”

“I am just glad to see you happy . . . with
his training,” he added pointedly.

Mirerien paused in unlacing her bracers and
narrowed her eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?

“Not a thing.” She raised an eyebrow. Pielere
laughed.

Not expecting an answer, she returned to her
bracers. “I do not see what is so funny.”

“Yes, I know. That actually proves my
point.”

“You had a point?” a small grin played at the
corner of her lips.

“That’s more like it. My point was that it is
good to see you enjoying yourself. You smiled more during that
sparring match than I’ve seen you do in months, longer even.”

“I smile,” she said defensively. They began
walking together back to the palace. The children were too caught
up in a spontaneous game of tag to notice or care.

“Sister,” Pielere said softly, “I love you,
but you are not always the warmest person in the world. I know our
work is important, but we must remain grounded in life, or we
forget why we do what we do or the real people our decisions
impact. When you find something, or someone who can make you smile,
hold on to that. It is not insignificant.”

“Father, come play,” a young boy ran up and
grabbed Pielere’s arm, pulling him toward the other children.”

“I wish I could, but I have a meeting I must
go to?”

“Go,” Mirerien said, “I will take your
meeting.” Gratitude shone in his eyes. As she watched him play with
his children, she thought he might be right.

* * *

It was strange being in Aleria. A part of him
felt relaxed. There were no guards looking to kill him. No one here
even knew who he was. It was odd to think this was his mother’s
home. The people seemed nice but somewhat subdued. A stark contrast
to the festival going on just south of the river, things in Aleria
were calm and rather boring.

Taking a detour off the main road, Kern
looked for a place to eat. A small bakery caught his eye. The shop
smelled of freshly cooked bread. It was inviting, bathed in
sunlight and warm colors. There was only room for three tables,
each with two chairs, but the place did not feel cramped. The
decorations were simple, avoiding clutter. An elderly elven woman
smiled from behind the counter. Showing amazing strength and
stamina for her age, she beat and kneaded the dough in her hands,
then pulled apart smaller pieces to cook. “Fresh bread?” She asked,
pulling out a pan from the cooling rack.

“That sounds wonderful,” Kern replied,
handing her some coins. He broke a piece of warm bread and took in
a deep, satisfied breath. The woman put a bowl of butter by his
plate and went back to her work. Kern ate slowly, taking seconds
when his first loaf was gone, and watched the people come and go.
Most stopped for a few minutes, exchanging a few words about their
families as they picked up enough bread and other baked goods to
last the day. A young elven boy came in through the back door and
began helping the old woman. She tousled his hair affectionately
and handed him some dough to knead. They worked in synchronized
silence, each anticipating the other’s movements and needs. “Could
you take down the supplies for the next batch?” the woman
asked.

“Sure, Grandmother,” the boy answered. He
pulled out a step ladder and grabbed a large bag of flour from the
top shelf of a wooden cabinet. As small as the shop was, most of
the storage was vertical.

The front door opened, and the boy stopped, a
look of dread and thinly veiled anger on his face. Four men, a mix
of half elves and humans, came in, snickering, They grabbed food
off the display shelves and ate without paying. The old woman
turned her gaze down, her cheerful spirit gone. “There you are,”
one of the men said. “You’re late.”

“I’m helping my grandmother.”

“Business must be very good if you can afford
full rent.” The woman’s eyes shot open with panic.”

“You rotten son of a . . .”

“Alnerand, no,” The woman put a hand on the
boy’s arm to stop him from advancing on the intruders.

The door opened, a young girl humming to
herself as she entered. One look at the men inside and she turned
and left without a word. The leader of the group smiled. “Or we
could just stay here until you are done.”

“Just go,” the old lady said.

“Grandmother . . .”

“I’ll be fine. You can go.”

The boy ripped off his apron and left with
the men. The old lady went back to her work, stepping up on the
ladder to reach her pans. Kern rushed to her side. “Let me.” She
smiled gratefully and indicated the items she still needed.

“Thank you. I’m sorry you had to see all
that. I can see you aren’t from around here.” She looked pointedly
at his clothes. “What brings you to Aleria?”

“Visiting family,” he answered honestly. “Who
were those men?” Kern took at seat at the counter and accepted a
sweet roll and warm mead.

The woman wiped the sweat from her brow and
got back to work on baking. “The main one is our landlord.
Originally his father owned the apartments where we live, but when
he died, his son took over. He forces every family to provide one
member as free labor in his other businesses and for personal
projects, or he dramatically increases the rent to the point where
no one can pay it.”

“Why don’t you move?”

“I’ve lived there all my life. Besides, there
is no where else I can afford to live. He owns many of the
apartments in the city, and the apartments he doesn’t own are much
too expensive. His father was a good, kind man. He knew what we
could afford and didn’t charge any more. But none of us had any
contracts in writing. On months where we could pay more, we would.
On those months where money was tight, he would let the rent slide.
He was an honorable man and we were all grateful for him. His son
is nothing like him. Without a contract, he could charge whatever
he wanted, and he does. None of us noticed it at first. He said he
would keep our rent the same, but he started to ask for free help
on his projects. Of course none of us argued at first. We were
accustomed to the give and take relationship we had before. It
wasn’t long before he began “asking” for help every day. Then he
stopped asking. Anyone who said they couldn’t work for him was
immediately given a new lease to sign, one with a rent triple the
current amount. But just listen to me go on and on. Can I get you
anything else?”

The woman reminded him of Frex. He felt the
strange urge to help her, but what could he do? If they were in
Suriax, he could offer to kill the man, but that was illegal here.
He thanked her for her time and the food and left her a substantial
tip. She and her grandson would have to figure out a solution to
the problem on their own. Right now he needed to take care of his
own problems.

* * *

“There is bread in the pantry.”

“Thank you.” Marcy went to retrieve the bread
and started making dinner. Thomas’ friends had a small, one bedroom
home near the wall that bordered the Therion River. They were a
young elf and human couple with two small children. The elven woman
smiled and cut vegetables beside her, making small talk. She was
very friendly, and Marcy wondered what Thomas told them about their
situation. She would never want to put them at risk, but since no
one knew Thomas was the one helping them, it was unlikely anyone
would search out his acquaintances. A little girl came running into
the kitchen and grabbed on to the woman’s legs.

“Mamma, I’m hun’ry,” the girl said.

She patted the girl’s head and smiled
affectionately. “Dinner will be done soon. Here, take some bread.”
The girl giggled and ran off with her prize. The woman laughed and
turned back to the food.

“You have a beautiful family,” Marcy
commented, feeling slightly jealous. “Are you two bonded?”

“Yes, for almost ten years.” She looked off
dreamily.

“I’ve never understood doing that, giving up
half your life for someone. I mean . . . it’s a big decision, but I
can see you two really care about each other.” She hastened to add,
afraid of insulting her host.

The woman laughed. “It’s okay. I get that all
the time. Before I met Bradley, I felt the same way. But when you
find true love, you realize you would rather spend a few hundred
years with him than seven hundred without him. Given the choice, I
would make the same decision again.”

“You have to catch the ball,” Thomas called
from outside. He and Bradley ran across the yard, throwing a small
hollowed out gourd they were using as a ball. Running along side
them was Brad and Veronica’s older boy, Max. He picked up the ball
from the ground and looked at it for several moments before
dropping it again. Brad went to grab it, but the boy kicked it
through the man’s legs before he could lay a hand on it. The sound
of laughter filled the air. Marcy smiled.

“How long have you two been together?”
Veronica asked.

“Hmm, what? Me and Thomas? Oh, we’re not . .
.”

“You aren’t? I’m sorry, it’s just that the
way you look at each other, I assumed.”

“We just met. We’re helping out a mutual
friend with his uncle. That’s all.”

“If you say so.” Veronica scooped up the
pieces of the vegetables she was cutting and put them in the stew
pot.

“What do you mean by ‘the way we look at each
other?” Marcy asked, unable to help herself.

“Honey, Thomas doesn’t look at you like a
stranger, and there was something in your eyes just now, too.
Besides, that awkward silence between you when you arrived speaks
volumes. No one can make you quite as angry as someone you care
for. You may have just met, but there is definitely something
there.”

“Hey, Max asked for some bread,” Thomas
leaned in the back door. His hair was disheveled from their play.
Marcy felt her face flush and looked away. Veronica handed him the
bread and they exchanged a few words, but Marcy wasn’t listening.
Thomas was handsome, and he did save her from the guards, but could
she really have feelings for him? She chanced a glance up and saw
him staring at her. He looked away quickly, mumbling something to
Veronica and going back outside. They cooked in silence after that,
Veronica allowing her to brood on her thoughts.