The rest of the week was lonely. Valir hadn’t come back to the Rootwater Inn since the night of the attack. The summer rainy season had begun and there were thunderstorms every afternoon, like clockwork. Not that Kel went out much: he didn’t really leave his room, except to check on Lienna once a day. He would go and sit for an hour or so, watching her as she slept fretfully under the influence of Stavish’s tinctures. Beverly more or less left him alone during this time, though she would shoo him out like clockwork when it was time to change the girl’s bandages.

He had, in the meantime, procured a children’s primer that included the communication spell he was after. It was tricky, because depending on the animal, the spell had to be adjusted. Intonation had to be just right, and even then you couldn’t hear yourself speaking, so meaning had to be very carefully constructed. It was exhausting and he didn’t really have anyone to practice with. In his loneliness, he had considered calling Poe but the attack and Beverly’s warning were still fresh in his mind. Poe had literally tried to steal a kid’s liver. He just couldn’t be trusted. Stupid. Why had he summoned something like that in the first place?

His conversation with Beverly kept coming back to haunt him. He was indeed Poe’s window to his world. But he had summoned him here. To summon something useful. Of what use was Poe? A familiar for evil wizards, perhaps? His isolated mind flashed back and forth between self-righteous anger and utter guilt for what had happened.

He was ashamed and saddened that he hadn’t heeded Caaron’s warnings. Then he was angry. Caaron hadn’t told him what would happen. His warning hadn’t been explicit enough!

He threw the book across the room, as he wished he had the black book. If only it had been destroyed before he could have used it. But where would you be then? Still practicing with Caaron? Or would Hardstahd have figured out another way to enslave you early? His pensive sulking was interrupted suddenly by the faint sound of music. The silence of the inn was so pervasive that at first, Kel believed he was imagining the strumming of a lute. He opened the door with an oaken creak, only to find that there was, in fact, music emanating from downstairs. Kel’s heart leapt - perhaps Jasper had some good news.

The sulky, bearded man was tending the bar so Kel had to assume that Valir still wasn’t back. Trixy, however, had returned: a dark furred arm hung lazily to the side as she lounged in her usual chair by the fire.

Jasper was seated on one of the tables, strumming. It was the first time Kel had seen him in days, since their disastrous performance. “There you are,” he said brightly, as if nothing had happened.

Kel hesitated. “Sorry about the other night,” he finally said, sheepishly.

“Don’t be sorry. If anything, I’m sorry for pushing you.” He put down the lute and hopped down from the table to saunter over to the bar. “You know, people have been asking about you. The illusions you fabricate - people around here haven’t seen anything like that in quite a while.”

“But that was a disaster.”

“No. It was drama. And people love drama. I’ve actually had folk asking left and right when we’re going to play again.” He poured himself a mug of what must have been brandy, though it was far too early in the day for it.

Kel wasn’t really in the mood to think about that right now. “So Valir…”

“Yes, Lienna is her sister. They’ve looked out for each other since Valir was a young girl, but they fight, as sisters will. She ran away some months ago and took up with a gang of thieves. Not much Valir could do about it - she has to work all the time.” He took a swig. “She’s always been terrified that her sister would die - either from reprisals or those she calls her friends. She actually pays one of them to keep an eye on her, if you can believe that.” He shook his head. “What you displayed up there was her biggest fear. And knowing that it’s true….”

Kel felt his stomach churn and sat down.

Jasper’s mouth twisted worriedly. “I know it’s not your fault - you’re not the type for violence, from what I can tell. Just...give it some time. Before you know it, things will be fine again.” He hesitated, then patted the boy’s back in a way that was supposed to be reassuring. “And to that end - how does tomorrow night sound?”

“If you don’t mind demons and blood, I’m game,” Kel muttered without really thinking.

Jasper looked at him quizzically for a moment. Then, he laughed, the first sound of mirth Kel had heard in some time. His laughter echoed through the hall. A low groan rose from the corner, reminding them that they weren’t alone in the sleepy hall.

Trixy, roused from her slumber, stared out at them from beneath her dark hood, yellow eyes illuminated by the low light. She looked annoyed, but then again her face (what he could see of it) looked permanently surprised.

Well, Kel figured, if she’s awake, I might as well practice. “Good morning,” he said, filtering the meaning through his mind and formatting it into something that came out more as a soft yowl than anything else. It wasn’t really morning anymore, but he pushed the thought out of his mind. He couldn’t tell if it had worked, if the articulation was right at all for a loris. Her face twitched, but otherwise gave no indication of understanding. She did, however, begin to slowly raise her arms, fur matted beneath brown leather gauntlets. Was she wearing armor? She grunted, but he couldn’t understand it.

“I think she’s trying to tell us something. Do you speak animal? I’m not sure if mine made any sense to her.”

The bard continued to lounge, idly plucking odd notes on his lyre. “Not me, no. Never had an ounce of magic in me.” Somehow, Kel found that hard to believe with the way he seemed to charm crowds despite sometimes questionable lyrics.

Her arms were raised, even with her shoulders. Slowly, her fingers began to stretch.

“What do you think she’s trying to say?” Kel asked, unsure if she could understand him at all. Within a moment, however, the meaning became apparent as she completed the gesture with both hands. In any language it was rude. Coming from a sloth, it was baffling and rude.

Jasper burst out laughing again. “I guess she doesn’t like us very much. Message received,” He waved apologetically, “We’ll talk a little quieter over here.”

Trixy slowly lowered her arms and crossed them, rolling back over with a grumble.

“That loris hates me,” Kel muttered.

“Well, from what I hear, she hates damn near everyone.” Jasper laughed, then caught himself. Best to let sleeping lorises lie.

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Kyleria examined the delicate finger cakes on the platter. “I hope I’m not intruding,” she began

The middle-aged woman across from her waved an elegantly gloved hand. “Nonsense, Lady Westermindt - you are always welcome at our home. I was so glad that you came by - we hardly ever have visitors out here.” The Felquest estate, like most of the country gentry homes, was set far out of town. Their land, however, brushed up against the very river that caressed one side of Fellow’s Glen. In this way, very rich folks had lived with very low taxes for a very long time. Or at least 100 years, which to some was a very long time while to others it seemed very short.

“I must say these are exquisite.”

“We have them brought in from Ferryton - the most talented Zephyrian restaurateur lives there.”

“Now I understand - you could hardly get something like this in Fellow’s Glen.” She took a bite savoring it more than necessary for effect. Her host would need to believe her grateful for this to work. ‘By the way,” she said when she had finished chewing, “how is Preston’s leg?” Lord Felquest, who fancied himself quite a hunter, had broken his leg while chasing a fox earlier that spring.

The genteel woman’s face brightened. “Once we had that medicine from Caaron, there was an immediate change. His boy…” her face fell, “he was diligent in explaining exactly how to use the salve.”

“Kel was very diligent.”

“Oh yes,my apologies for bringing it up.”

Not at all, Kyleria thought to herself, all you needed was a little push.

“That was a terrible business,” Lady Felquest continued. “I can’t believe how he was wronged so.” She took a bit of crystalized pineapple from the platter and bit into it delicately, hiding her mouth in the way that so many ladies of her status did while eating.

“I can only wonder what would have been, had your husband still been on the council.”

“Arthur listens to the gods. He wouldn’t have abided by such barbarism.” She shook her head. “That poor boy. And to think, his family founded this town. Such a shame.” If she had any stronger feelings on the matter, however, they were hidden by her apparent hunger for preserved fruit, which she went after with renewed vigor.

Taking a sip of her tea, Kyleria leaned back in her seat and gazed evenly at her host. “Lady Felquest, while I’m ashamed to admit it, I do have a favor to ask.”

“Please, dear, call me Princilla.”

“I need someone to speak on Kel Fellow’s behalf. To reverse the council’s decision.”

Princilla balked. “But you have the means...surely your name opens doors for you.”

“But not the chancellor’s door. I know your husband leaves for the capital in a week to meet with him.”

“Yes, but...it’s business. What can he really do? Even if he can get a good word in: a ruling from that far away, overriding the council? It will be suspect, you understand. There might be a legal right to it, but in the end our peers are the ones who make our lives here. I wouldn’t want to ruffle any feathers, especially if that person is...influential.”

“But Princilla -” Kyleria began to protest before she was interrupted by a knock at the door down the hall, at the entryway. There was the sound of shuffling cloth and the tread of riding boots on the hardwood floor. A servant quickly ushered in Mayer Hardstahd, in a fine green riding cloak, followed by the hulking form of Derry.

Princilla smiled, remaining seated behind the table. It was a very different smile from the earnest one she had worn just moments before: Frozen. Cold.

“And what brings you to grace us with your presence, Mayor?” Her disdain was ill-disguised.

Oh, I have business with Mr. Felquest. Matters of importance. Though I do hope to overhear some gossip from you ladies later on.

“Ah yes. Gossip. That is, after all, all we ladies do,” Kyleria rolled her eyes, eliciting a twinge to Princilla’s plastered smile.

“Indeed.” The Mayor turned up his nose and swept further down the hall, escorted by the servant to the study. “Come along, boy,” he called back flatly. Derry silently trudged after him.

“You were saying, Lady Westermindt?”

“No matter. Let’s talk about something more pleasant for a while. And please, call me Kyleria.”

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A waning harvest moon hung low on the horizon when Kel made his nightly trip to check on Lienna. The lanterns were all dim now: the festival had ended the day before. Banners were wind-torn, thin paper soaked with rain from the night before. It didn’t feel very festive now.

He coughed as he entered the wise woman’s home: there were countless urns spilling incense smoke into the air, tended dutifully by the wise-woman’s granddaughter. Beverly was taking the demon threat very seriously. It surprised Kel that she let him in, but he was determined not to lose that privilege and so he said nothing.

Lying on a makeshift cot in the center of the room in a white dressing gown, the girl did not resemble the thief he had met a few days prior. She looked weak. Or dead. The incense hanging in the air gave the room a distinctly funerary atmosphere.

Her eyes opened a sliver. “Valir?”

“No, er...it’s me.” Kel shifted awkwardly, moving a little closer.

Oh…” She sounded disappointed. She blinked and turned, her eyes opening wider. “Oh, it’s you.” Kel winced at her recognition but the girl seemed, if anything, happy about his presence. A weak smile played on her lips. “You carried me here.”

“I did.”

“Beverly says you saved my life. Thank you.”

Kel nodded and shuffled uncomfortably, unable to speak. I’m the reason you were in danger in the first place, he thought to himself.

“I’m sorry I took your things. I would give back the gold, but I spent it all.” He couldn’t tell if she was bragging or being sincere in her apology. It didn’t really matter to him.

Before Lienna could say another word, Beverly shuffled into the room. “You’re up. Good, how do you feel?”

Kel wanted to ask her why she had told Leanna part of the truth but not the whole story. Seeming to anticipate this, she shot him a warning glance.

“I’m feeling….tired. And my stitches itch,” the girl said, sounding a little more strained than before.

“That means you’re healing, dear. I’ll apply some more salve.” She gave Kel a look that wasn’t exactly friendly but wasn’t outright hostile either. “Can we have some privacy, Kel?

“Of course.” Kel gave a quick, respectful bow and excused himself. This was the routine dismissal, a polite way to tell him to leave.

He wondered if Beverly hated him, for what he had done. If she did, it would be better to just kick him out for good. Why hadn’t she told Lienna the truth? Lost in his thoughts, he was before the great roots of the southern tree before he knew it. Passing under and into the Rootwater Inn, he nearly ran into Valir as she flung open the door.

“Kel,” she said, flatly.

“Look, I can explain.”

“Beverly already told me. That night…”

"I’m so sorry -” he was interrupted as she threw her arms around him.

“Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would do if she was dead.”

“Yes, but…"

“I told her being a thief was dangerous. I told her she would end up dead in an alley. She’s going to get such an earful when I get her home. And if I ever find the lowlife who did this...”

It dawned on Kel that Beverly had not told Valir the truth either. Or rather, she had left out some important details. He was relieved, but also a bit angry. Would he have to tell her himself?

“Have you been going to see her?” Her voice was soft, far from the confident bartender he had come to know.

“Yes, but she’s been asleep. The wise-woman says she’s recovering quickly. She’ll barely have a scar.” He had to tell her the truth. She would hate him, probably, but there was no way he could let her think her sister had been randomly attacked as opposed to the truth. But the look on her face, the relief she exuded. Maybe it could wait. Perhaps when Lienna was feeling better. Then he could come clean. “She’s awake,” was all he said.

Her face broke and for a moment he couldn’t tell if she was smiling or crying. She hugged him again and rushed away, back the way that Kel had come.

As the door closed, the numbness of the situation set in. He had been visiting Lienna out of guilt, of course, but he hadn’t been doing it to make himself feel better. Had he?

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Dinner had been cleared away, a wreckage of roasted duck and grilled vegetables laid waste by the two ladies.Tea was finished and now brandy was the drink of choice.

when Mayor Hardstahd passed by again, the smell of cigars clinging to his fine cloak. His unwholesome face seemed curious.

“So why are you here, Lady Westermindt? Pleading the boy’s case? Playing the benevolent aunt?”

“I’m visiting my dear friend, Lady Felquest, Gerald. I like to keep up my company, when I can.”

“You, who fell so far from grace.” A smirk twitched his lip to the side.

“Not so far of a fall, really. We barely had a chateau.” Kyleria yawned. “Still, I never consorted with mercenaries and thieves.”

Hardstahd’s face contorted and reddened and his son winced.Clearly, she had struck a nerve. “I built my life. With these hands.”

“You stole your life, Hardstahd. Just because it can’t be proven doesn’t mean everyone doesn’t know. A tenant farmer suddenly has gold flowing from both ends? You and I both know it was ill gotten.”

“And yet no one says anything. Could it be that they don’t care? Isn’t a shrewd businessman just a thief with better clothes?”

She scoffed. “If you say so. I say everyone has a choice. You could choose to be decent, but you haven’t so far and I somehow doubt you ever will.”

“And look at your choices,” Hardstahd spat. “If I had the gifts that you had, I wouldn’t have thrown them away for something as paltry as love.”

Kyleria looked from him to Derry, who was fidgeting in the corner and clearly uncomfortable with the situation. For a boy that large and historically aggressive, he looked very small now. She wondered what had passed between them in the last few days. “No, I imagine you wouldn’t have.” She turned back to the table, away from their unwelcome guest. “Is that quite all, Mayor?”

“That’s all,” he ran a hand through his greasy hair and made to leave the room.” However,” he paused in the doorway, “if you ever decide that you want to stop antagonizing my fine intentions for this town, I’d be happy to help you. Financially, of course. You could have something of your old life back.”

“A very generous offer. I will let you know, if the earth and sky are ever parted and Hal blows his fiery horn of ending. Until then, I’ll be fine. ”

The mayor sniffed, but otherwise made no retort. He stalked to the hallway, Derry trailing behind.

“Men,” Princilla chuckled to dismiss the dark mood their argument had brought.

“That’s barely a man,” Kyleria muttered.

Despite herself, Princilla chuckled. “With these hands,” she mimicked, causing both women to collapse into peals of laughter.

Later that night, Kyleria retired to the guest room (because no lady would leave alone in the middle of the night) and locked the door. A large bed, a recessed “powder room” and a bureau for letter-writing. The room itself was probably bigger than her house. Not that Kyleria was envious. She had known what she was giving up when she married Sondor. She pulled the quill from her hair and a bit of parchment from her sleeve and quickly scrawled a short note:

Felquests will do it.

Then she waited, sitting down at the bureau expectantly. One minute passed. Then two. Then, when she had almost decided to simply go to bed, scratchy writing began to appear underneath her own: a reply from Caaron.

Make haste, and be sure H doesn’t hear of this.

She considered writing about her encounter with Hardstahd earlier that evening but thought better of it. It would do nothing but bring Caaron worry. They had played their hand and now it was time to wait. She had the Felquest’s influence to help her with the chancellor. If all went well, her sister would lend aid as well, though in a slightly more...lateral manner. If her plan worked, Kel would be safe within a few days. If it didn’t...well, no gamble could be made without a price. She wondered if her own life was too steep an ante.