Twenty-three

"Nor have I," Riya said and consulted her inner clock. A moment or two still, and the eggs would be just like her mother preferred to make them. "He was a bit exotic in other ways as well. I've never met a pilgrim like him before." Most of them had at least had a destination...

"Nor have I," Sylvie echoed.

Riya smiled and regarded Sylvie for a while, the hair, skin and eyes. That they were both outlanders was obvious enough. It was the number one reason why she thought Sylvie would know more about that strange man... the second being, of course, that they seemed to have some sort of understanding. What exactly it was intrigued Riya. Familiar faces, friends, something else? Gemma certainly had her opinion...

"Where did you meet him in the first place, anyway?" she asked and grabbed a hold of the pot, hesitating. Maybe a moment longer?

"Hm? Oh, by the river, a day's walk from Garya Cross."

No, it was now. Riya moved the eggs off the stove and made space, taking a deep breath. "I see," she said, feeling slightly frustrated. Sylvie wasn't really feeling chatty, was she? Well, there were remedies for that... "Did you get to know each other well or why do you think he wants to have a word with you again?" Riya asked, making it sound as innocently curious as possible. It worked on Mael, certainly.

Sylvie considered that as she moved the kettle on the flame, and eventually shrugged.

"Not very. But I think we both had some fun with the chatter on the way back here."

It was enough for Riya, who couldn't help but smile at Sylvie's manner of replying. "I see," was all she said before she busied herself with the rest of the breakfast, whistling to herself while she worked.

While Sylvie gathered tea and cups her mind wandered a bit.

Without really deciding to speak up, she asked, "Say, what do you think ceremonial armour against tomatoes would look like?"

The suddenness of the mental imagery caused Riya to firstly stop in her tracks, then look at Sylvie... and finally giggle uncontrollably. "A royal farce, that's what." She blinked and suddenly realised there had been no forewarning for this sudden question of Sylvie's. "Why?"

Sylvie shrugged and grinned. "I said chatter was fun, didn't I?

"I've been picturing something made of wood, in red, with green details."

Riya smiled. "Yes, you did - I... I didn't expect that fun, though," she admitted. A pilgrim like that boring Kai? "Wood..."

"Mhm. It doesn't have to take hits of weapons, after all."

They continued with inconsequential talk as the rest of the Old Ivy family trickled into the kitchen, but Sylvie gradually grew more quiet. She felt trapped, and tried to figure out which boundaries were bothering her.

The city had its breakfast: an hour or so after breakfast, some churches and shrines began to ring their bells, others wedding bells, other funeral bells. Very few attended, mainly those who worshipped the more natural deities or those with more rigid beliefs.

The bells rang.

For the past few days nobody had visited the church of the Gentling's graveyard, which was every bit as wet and cold as the rest of the city. Today, however, a black raincloak wandered between the rows, slowly but surely heading toward the very beginnings of the graveyard where the oldest of the graves were to be found. He nearly knocked his bottle of wine against one of the graves as he turned around and backtracked a little before he found the correct row of years.

The grave he was looking for was one severely bitten and clawed by the weather of years past. The white stone was partially covered by moss and had darkened. It had once been so pure and white.

The man sniffed and tried to clean the gravestone fruitlessly for a moment. Disappointed, he simply popped open the bottle and gave a short, husky chuckle. Gathering his cloak around himself so that it wouldn't touch the ground, he crouched in front of the grave and smiled. "Didn't think you see me again, did you?

"Don't worry, I haven't forgotten, and I couldn't even if I wanted to. You see, the way things are... forgetting isn't easy, not when in our occupation. I think you said that, too. I never figured out why you worshipped someone like the Gentling, considering that. I still remember the look on that priest's face when we brought you here."

He drank a little wine, then poured some on the grave. The cork back in, he placed the bottle against the grave. Then the raincloak gave a sketchy salute, grinning around the toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth. "A little gift, old chap. It was a terrific adventure we had. I'm sorry they came for you later. I really am. It is a pleasure to tell you that your family is doing well, however. This batch of children has grown up. We will undoubtedly hear about them later.

"You know, I still can't thank you enough for that compass and map. You never said the magic words of forgiveness, you crotchety bastard, but as if you would ever have done such a thing."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest and chewed on the toothpick for a while, staring at the grave. "Bye," he said quietly and stood up, unable to look away from the grave.

That is quite enough.

Shaking his head, he began to make his way out of the graveyard, choosing to take a long route so he could read the years and names on the gravestones, the venerating elegance of which he whole-heartedly approved of. To his surprise, there were other people in the graveyard. More surprising was the fact that they did not look like the kind of people who usually worshipped the Gentling. They seemed to be making their way to the same area he had been in and hadn't spotted him.

Sebastian left them to their own devices and made his way back to House Crow.

Garren noted that today Sylvie seemed distracted. When he brought it up she apologised, claimed it was nothing, but a short time later there were the same kind of erratic mistakes again.

He finally put a stop to it when things didn't get better after lunch.

"Sylvie, this is no use. If you're so restless, you should better take a break."

"Ah, I'm sorry. I can't want to waste so much time -"

Garren shook his head, smiling. "You're young, and I'm not that old and decrepit, yet. A day or two more won't make a difference, will it?"

Noticing that she hesitated, he sighed and went on, "If, for example, you decided to pack up leave right now, I would with your notes still be a big step further than just a month ago. Of course I hope a break and doing whatever's on your mind today is all it takes, since I like working with you and your help is valuable, but, as I said, like this it's no use."

Sylvie hesitated a moment longer, before answerign with a smile part sheepish, part grateful. "I think it's mostly the weather, but there's something... There's someone in Canyet dealing with magic, yes? Near Wellgate?"

Garren blinked, a bit surprised. "Yes, the Narrow house near Wellgate."

She nodded. "I'd like to ask them something."

"Do that. I could do with a break for paperwork myself."



A very short time later Sylvie had gathered her cloak and dragon - Ayu-Asra was fed up with being trapped inside that he'd even go out in the rain - and went out again.

She decided to first see if she could pay Sebastian a visit.

It turned out to be quite straightforward. Sebastian was coming down from his room with a couple of books when she came in. He didn't notice her at first although he glanced in her general direction: he was far too absorbed by his thoughts. There was something wrong, but he couldn't say what it was - it certainly wasn't the looks he sometimes garnered. It was simply one of those instinctive things, he finally decided.

As he made it to a table and laid the books on the table, something drew his gaze right back at the entrance. Again, the look only lingered. He sat down and opened the dusty old book that Sylvie had seen before.

Ayu-Asra, whom she had carried on her arm, took the opportunity the relatively big room presented and took off as Sylvie greeted Mister Crow, who had come to tolerate the dragon in the common room outside of mealtimes and if no-one complained. The only other person present was a woman Sylvie didn't know, but since she was watching the dragon grinning, there didn't seem to be a problem.

Sylvie walked over to Sebastian. "Hello. Are you busy?"

Yes, it was her. Sebastian smiled and half-closed the book, only looking up after a moment's consideration. He quickly re-memorised her features. "Hello, Sylvie. I can't say I am. I've had a very unhurried past few days."

"That's good to hear. Though the weather would probably slow down anyone trying to hurry."

She pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Sebastian. Ayu-Asra flew this way and that, reacquainting himself with the place.

The half-elf's eyes followed the dragon for a few seconds before he turned his attention to Sylvie again. "Yes, ever more the reason to not hurry anywhere," he said, placing an elbow on the table, his chin resting on his palm. "How are you?"

Sylvie hesitated for a moment.

"Nervous. The stupid 'as long as I don't start there's always a chance, but if I ask, the answer may be "impossible"' kind of nervous."

She turned her head suddenly as Ayu-Asra started jingling at the woman on the other side of the room.