50 Harvest, 385 - Reishada, Ograkill, Charan

It was cold and getting colder, night was falling. She wrapped the cloak tightly around herself and put the hood over her head. A week, ten days she would have to spend before the earliest chance she would have to speak with the council of Ograkill. A week of wasted time. There were other peoples that needed to be warned, other nations and she had a week she had to spend in Ograkill.

She stood in the small greenspace, watching as people dispersed. Night came early as fall rolled toward winter and people sought warm homes or warm drinks to chase away the coming chill. She had no coin, no connections, and no place to go. The City of Roses for all of its beauty was no welcoming place filled with charity for the poor or disenfranchised. Taleka settled back down on the bench she had occupied before.

She couldn’t help but consider the receptionist’s words as she watched the building. They had pulled back from the world to maintain what Balance remained after they had been a part of the first tear. Three hundred and eighty-five years they had spent away from the world, huddled in the Dahls of Alsais, near the sand sea, where no one ventured. What had happened in the nearly four centuries they had been gone?

More importantly, why was a birdkin receptionist in Ogrekill so angry?

All the time in the world wouldn’t give her the answer, Taleka told herself as she rose up from the bench. There was nothing that she could accomplish sitting here, freezing. Perhaps there was something she could do to earn enough coin to pay for a night or two in an inn, away from the chilled temperatures.

Grandmother had sent Taleka to warn the Others of the coming of the Kel, of a great threat outside the bounds of the Balance. As the young apprentice walked the streets of the Ograkillian capital, she wondered how much any of the people she passed would truly care for such a threat. After all, one never thought of years when the days took all your attention. She saw others huddled outside against the chill, often under windows where the warmth of inside could escape to offer some hollow comfort.

Her ambling path slowly took her toward the walls of the city, toward firelight reflected on shining white walls and the sound of laughter. There was something about the place, about the sounds and the warmth that drew her in like a moth to the flames. Her wings shifted awkwardly as she stepped into the light.

There were over a dozen people surrounding the campfire, eating thick stew from wooden bowls. The rich smell of that stew wafted out over the surrounding area. Taleka stood at the edge and watched. She watched them eat and talk, a group of people edging toward friendship around a campfire surrounded by boxes and bags of supplies.

There was something to the camp, something that was drawing her in. Was it the Weave that she could still feel but not touch? Was it the Balance itself pulling her toward these people? Or was it simply the rich smell of the stew and the warmth of the fire. Simple personal need perhaps drove her more than anything else.

She huffed out a sigh and started to turn away.

A hand clapped down on her shoulder, a large hand that swallowed her shoulder whole. The hand belonged to a woman who stood at least two of her tall. Bright blue eyes looked down from on high, above a bright smile. The woman wore leathers that barely covered her, despite the chill, and her choppy brown hair fell over one bright eye. “Come, eat.”

“I don’t have any coin.” Taleka answered.

The tall woman, her tanned skin covered in scars. “It matters not. Come, eat. Farspeakers know all are welcome at fire. Come, eat.”

“Farspeakers? The Weaver has told me of your kind.”

“Hope Weaver speak true.” The woman said as she tugged Taleka fully into the circle of firelight.

“The Weaver always speaks truth.” She said it by rote. She had never questioned the Weaver or any of those who had come before. She had never wondered why they had made the choices they had made, what had kept them separated. Why had they walked away from the world?

“Come, eat.” The farspeaker said again as she guided the much smaller woman toward the seating that surrounded the fire.

“Good evening, miss.” Drawled one of the dark haired human men seated on the same log. “You a friend of Miss Amien’s?”

“She is friend to farspeakers. Is enough.” Amien, the farspeaker, said as she dipped a bowl of soup and handed the steaming bowl to Taleka.

“Reckon it is,” The man said, digging into his own bowl of soup.

Another man, nearly identical to the first, stood up to get a second bowl of the soup. He sat back down on the log without a word. The first man wiped his face with a cloth and then set it back on his lap. “I’m Clark Franklin and this is Howard. It’s a pleasure to meet you, miss.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well, sir. My name is Taleka.”

“Forgive me for any forwardness miss, but you ain’ human are ya?” Clark asked.

Taleka frowned thoughtfully. “No. I’m an alsaian.”

“I’ve seen a lot of the kin, don’ reckon I’ve heard of an alsaian. You ain’ kin then?” Clark asked.

The young apprentice still hadn’t taken a bit of the steaming soup. She blew on the spoonful she had dipped up then answered. “Kin? Those are the halfbreeds, right?”

Amien chuckled at that, but there was a hissing intake of breath from across the fire. One of the orckin, half-orcs they had been called once upon a time, was sitting across the fire. His eyes shone red in the firelight as he studied the alsaian across the fire.

“They don’t call us halfbreeds anymore.” He said at length. His large and mobile ears twitching.

Taleka couldn’t tell if he was furious or amused. “My apologies. My people are rather insular. Our information is surely outdated.”

“Peoples of mixed origin are referred to as kin. I, for example, am orckin. We’ve recruited a few elfkin who should arrive tomorrow. If you are still around, you will see them. I am Tamesh Lautil.” The orckin introduced himself.

“It is a pleasure to meet you.” Taleka said.

He grunted and returned to his soup. The alsaian was finally able to eat. The warm soup and the fire helped to push the chill away. It helped her spirit settle enough to relax at least a little. Amien insisted that the alsaian share her tent for the night. Warm and safe, Taleka had the first restful sleep since she left Alsais. Balance or no Balance.