The Onyx Throne - Ch.64-65

Chapter 64

Mitchell found the dwarf's accent much easier to comprehend than Nothok's had been. The consonants were a little softer, and the vowels not so stretched as what he'd heard from the old shopkeeper in Belikir. It put him at ease slightly as he became less worried about understanding him and being understood himself.

"If it be Stollar's will," Mitchell said. "We would like a room for one night, maybe two." 

"Your nicest, if it's available," Lethlin added. "We've been traveling awhile and want to enjoy our rest." 

"Aye, it's available. One crown, two silver, if it be Stollar's will." 

"A night?" Lethelin asked with a tone in her voice that told Mitchell she intended to talk the dwarf down.

"Aye."

"Hmm..." Lethelin said, her finger to her lips.

Releasing Mitchell's hand, she gave him a little wink and strolled casually up to the table where the innkeeper was staring at a collection of white and black marbles.

"I like your Iva board. Is that made of blackmoor oak?"

The dwarf looked up and gave a curt nod.

"It's blackmoor, aye. Got it of an elven trader about three high suns back. You've a good eye."

"Hmm," Lethelin said, her voice non-committal. "And onyx and quartz garms. This is quite nice. Must have cost you several crowns."

"It would have, aye. But I played him for it. In the end, he owed me twelve crowns and first pick of his goods the next time he rolled through the town."

The dwarf leaned back at that, looking very satisfied. Then, he jumped slightly and leaned over to turn the crank to rotate the large carcass another quarter turn.

"Apologies. Tonight's, dinner, aye. Can't be lettin' it burn. Wife be shaving my beard and feeding it to me if I did, aye."

Lethelin chuckled.

"No, can't have that. Sorry if I distracted you. It really is a beautiful set, though."

"Not being a problem, young miss."

"And..." she said casually. "This is the Three Dragons problem if I'm not mistaken?" Then she jumped slightly, as if startled.

"Oh, my!" she said with a bashful smile so good, Mitchell would have believed it if he hadn't already known her. "Under the sun, where are my manners? I'm Sitha. That handsome burly man behind me is my betrothed, Jurgan."

Lethelin turned back and gave Mitchell a big smile.

"Jurgan love, come say hello to our host!"

Mitchell trotted up, trying to suppress his smile and stood next to Lethelin.

"Stollar's blessings upon you," Mitchell said as correctly as he could manage. "This is a fine inn you have."

The dwarf stood up then, a smile splitting his face.

"My manners as well, aye. Name's Elgrin Giantborn. Be welcome!"

The dwarf touched his thick and calloused thumb to his heart and forehead as Mitchell had seen Allora do on occasion. Lethelin and Mitchell both repeated the gesture, although Mitchell wasn't as smooth about it as they were. He hadn't practiced it much.  

"Stollar's blessings on you as well, this fine day," Elgrin continued, then turned a piercing black eye on Lethelin. "And you are right indeed, Miss Sitha. It is the Three Dragons problem. You know Iva well, then?"

"Oh, no," Lethelin said with a self-effacing laugh. "I just dabble here and there. I've never been that good. My father was quite the player though. The Three Dragons always got the better of him. He taught me a bit here and there and I almost beat him a few times, but just between you, me, and the fairies, I think he was going easy on me."

The dwarf nodded sagely.

"Aye, the Three Dragons has had me stumped for well on a year now. But if you are good enough to recognize it, perhaps you'd fancy a game or two? Been awhile since I had a real challenge?"

Lethelin arched one coppery red eyebrow.

"I could be persuaded, if Jurgan doesn't mind." she looked up to him. "What do you think, love? Can you keep yourself busy while I play with our host? I promise I won't wager too much coin?"

"Wager, you say?" Elgrin perked up. "Liking the sound of that already, aye."

Mitchell had absolutely no idea what was going on, but he was definitely enjoying the show. He decided to run with it.

"If you like. But just remember what happened last time? I still haven't found boots as good as the ones you lost to that ship captain?"

Lethelin's eyes sparkled, pleased to see him joining in and she quickly replaced her smile with a sorrowful frown.

"I am sorry about that, love. I promise I won't wager your clothes this time."

Mitchell saw that Elgrin was listening quite intensely while trying to look like he wasn't. Lethelin had him. He knew her well enough to know that she would never have done something like this unless she was working the dwarf over. So what the hell, Mitchell thought. Let her have her fun. And, truth be told, he really wanted to see her do her thing.

A loud voice exploded from behind the bar causing all three of them jump.

"Elgrin! You stone-brained fool of a fisher's-son! The meat!"

Mitchell looked to see a dwarven woman roughly equal in height and build to Elgrin but with blonde hair like spun gold thread. She had eyes the color of the deepest sapphire blue and her skin was more the color of marble than her husband's ruddy tan.

Elgrin almost dove for the crank, giving it a hasty quarter turn.

"Sorry, diamond of my heart, aye! Was just greeting our guests."

"I swear to Stollar, Denass, and the moons, if you ruin another takir you'll be on the spit next!"

"Promises, my most beautiful gemstone, aye!"

Elgrin was actually sweating now, for reasons that had nothing to do with the coals.

The woman grumbled something under her breath, snatched an empty tankard off the bar, and stalked back into what Mitchell presumed was the kitchen.

"Ah, yes," he said slowly and Mitchell got to see a dwarf blush. "That's me wife, aye. Bari. I love her like the pick loves the stone, but..." he glanced quickly at the kitchen door then back, dropping his voice to a near whisper"... she'll be the death of me, she will, aye."

"She seems lovely," Lethelin said with a wink. "But if you've got time for that game, I'll make sure you don't forget the meat."

"Aye, I think that would be agreeable. Shall we start with two copper a garm?"

Lethelin made a worried face and then glanced nervously at Mitchell before looking away.

"Two copper sounds good."

"I'll just be over here," Mitchell said. "Good luck, Sitha."

"Thank you, love."

Elgrin picked up one onyx stone and one quartz and put his hands behind his back, then brought them forward.

"Which will it be, aye?"

Lethelin tapped his left hand and he produced the quartz. Then they set to arranging the pieces.

Mitchell posted up at a table nearby, close enough to observe but not so close as to be a nuisance.

The game seemed to consist of moving one, two, or three of your marbles--apparently called garms -- diagonally over the board in a line and into a line of the other side's garms, with the goal of knocking the other player's stones off the board and into a tray that ran around the edge. The trick was that you needed one more stone in your row than were in the opponent's row. One black garm could not push one white garm and vice versa, but two could. The most it appeared you could move in a row was three and they could not push an opposing three. If it looked like a player was moving two into position to bump your one, you could move one stone behind that one to support it. That would block an advance but also block you as well.

Lethelin was true to her word and reminded Elgrin every few minutes to check the meat and that earned her quite a few gracious smiles as he tended to get lost in the strategy. She celebrated enthusiastically when she knocked off some of his stones, calling to Mitchell to join in her success, and then pouted in a suitably adorable manner when he knocked off her garms.

Despite what looked to be early success on Lethelin's part, soon Elgrin was chasing her all over the board and had all of her stones knocked off into the tray in short order.

He sat back with a grin but also looked at her in a new light.

"You had me worried there for a bit, I will admit, aye. But it didn't take me long to spot your style. It's one a lot of younger players use, aye."

Lethelin looked pensive.

"I rushed, didn't I?"

Elgrin chuckled.

"That you did, young miss, aye. Takes time to learn patience in Iva. Early success can sometimes lull players into a false sense of confidence."

"You sound like my father," she said warmly. "He said the same thing. Shall we play again? I know I can do better!"

"Aye, sounds good."

They did the math on the number of stones knocked off and Lethelin owed him eight copper at the end after deducting the requisite copper for the ones she'd managed to knock off. Almost a full silver piece. Not exactly a paltry sum for a single game.

They quickly reset the board and began again.

Lethelin played much more conservatively this time. There were no shouts and cheers and she did seem to be giving Elgrin a run for his money. At the end of the second game, she only owed him four copper. She was now into him for one silver, and two copper.

"It's coming back to me now," she told Elgrin who seemed to be really enjoying himself. "It has been some years and Jurgan has no head for Iva so I haven't been able to play much since I left home."

"Aye, much better that second time, Miss Sitha, much better. Still some holes in your defense but I think with some practice you could be quite good. Not enough to best me, I don't think, aye. But I would enjoy the games!"

"Good master Elgrin, that sounds like a challenge to me. Careful now. That's how I got Jurgan to be my betrothed. He thought he could best me in archery. You're quite handsome as well. I could always use a second husband."

Elgrin blushed a deep crimson.

"Aye, now. I do be well and truly bonded to my lovely Bari. But if it be a challenge you're after, how about we up the stakes a wee bit, aye? I suspect true competition brings out the best in you, aye? Tell me I'm wrong?"

Lethelin gave him a sly look.

"What did you have in mind?"

"Aye... Let's say five copper a garm?"

Lethelin starred at him with a frown creasing her full lips. Mitchell suddenly caught motion down near her thigh, under the table where Elgrin couldn't see. She was beckoning to Mitchell and pointing at herself. He stared, not sure what she was trying to tell him and as the seconds ticked by, her pointing got more frantic.

Mitchell suddenly jumped up.

"Uhh... Sitha, my moon and stars, don't you think that's a little too much."

"Nonsense," she said and looked at him like he had interrupted at the worst possible time. "Elgrin is right. You know I do better when I'm under pressure. Please don't bother me now."

"But Sith--"

"Do sit down!" she snapped at him and waved her hand to shoo him away. "You'll keep your bloody boots, don't worry."

Sensing the part he suspected she wanted him to play, he went along.

"Yes, dear."

Elgrin chuckled as Mitchell went back to his seat and he saw a hungry look in the dwarf's dark black eyes.

"Five copper per garm. Deal."

The two of them began to draw a crowd. Elgrin got one of the customers to mind the food with the promise of some free ale as long as he didn't burn it. Then, final distraction eliminated, they began. Barely a word was spoken between the two of them as they pushed their garms across the board. They were both hunched over the board starring intensely at their stones as if they could divine the future from the patterns. It got down to the wire but Elgrin managed to eke out a victory, though Lethelin made him work for it.

"Again!" Lethelin called, and she sounded almost angry.

They tallied up the total subtracted to the amount owed and gave the figures to another customer who was now keeping track with a slate and some chalk. Mitchell had faith in Lethelin, although truth be told there were moments of doubt creeping in. The bill was getting a little high.

It was halfway through the next game when Mitchell noticed Bari standing next to him and glaring down at her husband. Her arms were crossed over an ample chest but she saw that the meat was being tended so apparently didn't have any reason to interrupt the game. And drink orders were picking up. Several of the crowd had ale cups in their hands and serving girls had materialized from somewhere.

"That man will be the death of me," she mumbled to herself before walking back to the kitchen.

It was two more games before Lethelin won her first round. Several of the customers, some of whom had been drawn in from outside, cheered at her victory. She had only barely won though, shaving fifteen copper off the ninety she already owed him. Nearly a full gold crown, if Mitchell remembered his conversions correctly. Ten copper to a silver, ten silver to a gold. It was ten gold to a platinum, but he'd yet to see anyone carrying around platinum pieces.

Around and around they went for the next hour. Lethelin would win a round, shaving off a little more of her debt, then lose a round. Mitchell wasn't sure because the amounts changed so quickly, but it seemed that Lethelin was slowly winning back more than she lost. He grinned. Then, at the end of one game, she was miraculously in the black. Not only did she win back all that she'd lost but, according to one of the humans keeping track, Elgrin now owed her a silver.

"Stollar's balls!" Elgrin said, although Mitchell wasn't sure if it was in surprise or consternation.

"We can stop, if you like, good master Elgrin. We've had a merry run."

Lethelin took a long pull from her ale mug that someone had brought her. Elgrin matched her with a pull from his own.

"Just getting good, young miss. Just getting good, aye. Again?"

Lethelin lost again, but only by two garms, or 1 silver. Elgrin smiled triumphantly and his ale cup came down with a loud crash.

"Aye, Didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"I think I want that silver back!"

"Ha! Come and get it, aye."

They grinned at each other savagely, like too old warriors facing off to the death and the board was reset.

Lethelin won the next three rounds. The third round she beat him so severely that the whole crowd went silent. Elgrin stared mutely at the board as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. The guy keeping score was scribbling furiously on his slate, checking and double checking his figures.

Lethelin sat back in a huff and polished off the rest of her ale. Mitchell wasn't sure how many she'd had already. She had a grin on her face like the cat that got the cream and then fucked the cow besides.

The man doing the numbers showed the slate to Lethelin and she just nodded, her grin still stuck to her face.

"Good master Elgrin, I do believe you owe me one crown and three silver."

"Let me see that!"

Elgrin snatched the slate from the customer's hand and stared at it, his eyes darting back and forth, his expression a thundercloud. Slowly, he set the tablet down on the table and reached into his vest and drew out a coin purse, placing one gold crown and three silver deliberately on the table.

Lethelin leaned forward, picked them up, bounced them in her hand, then removed one silver and tossed it to the man who'd kept score. The rest of it she placed right back in front of Elgrin.

"Your finest room, good master Elgrin. One crown, two silver."

Elgrin's eyes went wide and he stared at Lethelin like she'd just sprouted wings.

"You--?" he sputtered.

His eyes went to the Iva board, the coin on the table, and then to her, then back to the board and then to the smug little red-haired thief sitting demurely in her seat like and looking as innocent as you please.

The room was tense as Elgrin processed what had just happened. Mitchell began to wonder if he'd need to draw his sword when the innkeeper threw back his head and laughed.

He laughed and he kept laughing. He had tears in his eyes and he was clutching his gut.

"Stollar's girthy cock and swinging balls!" he exclaimed. "My mother warned me about trusting red-haired lasses. Aye, she did!"

Elgrin guffawed some more and then pulled himself to his feet and bowed to Lethelin.

"The room is yours, young miss, with my sincerest welcome, aye. Best bit of Iva I've played in a dragon's age. Stollar's bloody balls, it was, aye.  

Lethelin bowed graciously and gave him a kiss on his ruddy tan cheek.

"My thanks, master Elgrin."

The dwarf blushed again, then he called for one of the serving girls to show them to their room.

Once the serving girl had left them outside the door with a key, they went to the railing and looked down into the common room where conversation was still going full force. Elgrin was gesticulating wildly, people were laughing and shaking their heads in disbelief.

"So how much of that was an act," he asked Lethelin as she admired her handiwork.

Lethelin brushed some imaginary dust from her shoulder and pushed a stray lock of curly red hair behind her ear.

"I had the Three Dragons problem licked when I was sixteen high suns old. Alvi taught me. The hard part wasn't beating Elgrin, it was playing bad enough to make him believe that he stood a chance."

Mitchell stared at this gorgeous girl who always managed to find some new way to surprise him. She was magnificent.

"Did I ever tell you how amazing you are?"

She glanced up at him and then turned, putting her arms around his waist.

"I don't think so. But now would be a good time."

"You are amazing and I love you."

She beamed and then stood up on her tiptoes for a kiss, which Mitchell obliged.

"Come on," he said. "Let's see this room you got us for free."

Chapter 65

The room, while not nearly as nice as the Maiden's Mist had been, was pretty decent. It had a large bed that they both eyed with promise, some rustic furniture all made with the same honey-colored wood, and even a few stuffed heads and tapestries on the wall. They didn't stay long however. There was work to do.

"Off to the blacksmith with me?" Mitchell asked.  

"Sure. You need me to haggle for you, anyway. And I likely won't start snooping until after dark."

Allora had given them a list of things to pick up and chief among them was some proper armor for him. Given the time constraints -- he didn't want to be away for long -- he wouldn't be able to get the best, but anything was better than the simple traveling clothes he had at the moment.

"It will likely just be leather gear that he can alter quickly," Allora had told him. "A gambeson at the very least, but if we are lucky he can fit you with a brigandine." 

Once she actually explained what those were, it made sense. A gambeson was padded leather armor, usually worn underneath heavier armor, but it could be worn on its own. And a brigandine was leather or heavy cloth armor with metal plates riveted into the material for added protection. Allora had said she would have liked him to wear both but expected that would take too much time as getting the fit right would be more important.

There were also a list of odds and ends that she wanted them to have before they made their way to Lorivin. Mitchell thought it would have been good to sell off all their winter gear but that would have required saddling up Tammi and Marvin and they would have lost a lot of speed. But between what coin Allora had left behind, what they'd taken from the bandits, and what they'd brought with them over the mountain, they should have plenty to get the necessities. Clayfaire was small enough that it didn't take long to find the blacksmith. Lethelin had been hoping for a man to increase her chances of flirting and haggling, but instead found an elvish woman, about sixty years old who seemed completely immune to the thief's charms.

The smith, Rathain, did indeed have a gently used brigandine that she had accepted in trade awhile back. It was close enough to Mitchell's size that she could probably adjust the fit to where it would be passable until he got something better, but she wasn't as skilled with leather working and stitching so it would take longer. She recommended he visit the actual leatherworker who could get the job done much faster but would charge more.  

In the end, that was what they decided to do. As a compromise, Rathain gave the armor a thorough inspection and fixed the rivets on several of the plates that had either come off or loosened, at no extra charge, then gave them a referral to the leatherworker a few streets over.  

As they went about their business, Mitchell tried to soak in the little town. He did his best to tune into different conversations of the people around him and to familiarize himself with various accents. He listened for phrases and new words, and then would quietly ask Lethelin what they meant.

Around lunch they stopped at a food cart that smelled delicious. A human couple were selling meat skewers with a few different options including vegetables, and sauces. They had athi paired with a fruit that tasted similar to pear and which was covered with some sort of glaze, and then some spiced takir with a root vegetable called a bahk. It had the same color as roasted sweet potato and tasted nearly the same, too. Mitchell wondered if this had been brought over by ancient Earth people when they'd been abducted.  

"Are you sure you want to eat the takir? It's pretty spicy," Lethelin asked him as she looked at the man who was preparing her athi skewers. "Smells like drake's teeth. Is it?"

The man, a slightly plump fellow maybe thirty years old, smiled.  

"It is. The greens, though. The reds won't be ready until the first or second week of fall, be it Stollar's will. Then have to dry them."

"Greens are still a little spicy. At least the ones they grow on the coast."

The woman who was chopping up some vegetables chuckled.

"I knew I heard the coast on your tongue. Varset? Northwatch?" 

"Varset," Lethelin said with uncharacteristic honesty.  

"My dad was from there." the woman smiled. "You sound like 'im. Makes me miss the old jivi's ass."

Lethelin grinned.  

"How'd he get all the way out here? And do you remember which part of the city he was from?" 

The woman pursed her lips in thought.  

"Moved east when he was a young man. Said he had no taste for the sea and wanted to try farming. Met my mum and they bonded a few years later, had me and settled in the high valley region."

She tapped her lip.

"I don't suppose 'Lippa' means anything? 'Lasta'? It's on the tip of my lips." She turned to her husband then. "Onrick, do you remember him talking about it ever?"

"I did my best to avoid talking to him, you know that. Man never liked me."

Onrick finished applying the pepper sauce to Mitchell's takir skewer and handed it over while Mitchell fished out the few coppers they owed him. The smell immediately started to sear his nose and he wondered what counted for "a little" spicy in Awenor.

The woman turned back to Lethelin with a look of consternation.

"Do any of those tickle your ears?".  

"Liastra?"

"Oh!" the woman exclaimed. "Stollar's nipples, that's just it! Liastra. Said he was born there but some family troubles made up his mind for him to leave. 'Sea air makes my ass itch, anyway!' he used say." 

She chuckled at the memory but it cut off when she noticed Lethelin's gaping mouth.  

"What's wrong, miss?" 

"Pardon," Lethelin stuttered as she closed her mouth. "But are you sure he said he was from Liastra?"

"Aye. Said he was born and raised in the Liastra district. Not that that means anything to me. I've never been further west than the Saffen River. But my dad started working on a fishing crew when he was barely ten high suns old. By the time his twenty-fifth rolled around, he'd had enough and left it all behind." 

"Pardon again, but may I know your father's name?" 

The woman looked at her husband, Onrick and he looked just as puzzled as his wife.  

"Is something wrong?" he asked.  

"I'm not sure. His name?"

"Welish. Family name was Welish, and dad's name was Ruther. Ruther De Welish. My name's Drista, by the way. It's a pleasure to meet..."

Drista's voice trailed off as she stared at Lethelin.  

What little color Lethelin had in her pale skin had drained out.  

"I say, miss. Are you ill?" Onrick made to fetch her a cup of water from the small barrel he kept by his cart.  

Lethelin took in a deep breath and looked as if she was about to speak but instead, she grabbed Mitchell's arm in an iron grip.

"Excuse us, we'll be right back." 

"Wha--?" but that was all Mitchell had time to say as she yanked him across the street so hard he almost dropped his food.  

Once they were out of earshot, she pulled him close and whispered so harshly it was almost a screech.  

"That woman is a Welish! Balls and fucking taint! The only daughter of Ruther De Welish!

"Yeah," Mitchell said, sardonically. "Can't believe it. A Welish just sold me some spicy meat." 

"There are only a dozen families that live in Liastra. Their ostentatious estates take up an entire district. If you're from there, you're from one of the families.  

"So dad was rich, I guess. Sounds like he left it behind." 

"Do you remember when I told you about the first man I killed? Sorvo De Halib?" 

"Sure. But her name is Welish. Well, her dad's name."

She waved that away.  

"The Halibs were run out of town, remember? Sorvo had raped several girls, big scandal. Tickle your ears?"

"Yeah, but--"

"Sorvo's father, the head of the family, a right sack of jivi shit named Alastan, sold his share of the gretch shark trade to his partner and fled the city."

"Uh-huh."

When Mitchell didn't say anything further Lethelin looked at him like he was a halfwit again.  

"Do you want to guess what the partner's name was?"

Then it finally clicked for Mitchell.  

"Welish?" 

"Yes!" she almost screamed. "The Welish family is controlled by the elder Welish. An ancient old man named Amos. The man is older than dirt, but he's still running things with one foot in the crypt because he has no heirs. His son, Ruther De Welish vanished decades back and Amos never sired another child. Everyone thought Ruther was dead. Sailed out to sea on his private yacht one fine spring day, big storm blew in, and all they ever found were some bits of wood along the coast north of the city. That woman," Lethelin said and jabbed a finger at Drista who was staring at them like she didn't know if she wanted to call some authority figure or blow them off as crazy people, "is the heir to House Welish. One of the wealthiest families in all of bloody Awenor!" 

"Oh," Mitchell said. "Well." 

It was interesting but he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with that information.  

"Do you think she knows?"

"If you were nearly as wealthy as the crown, would you be selling bloody fucking meat sticks in a two-copper village in the ass-end of nowhere?"

Mitchell had to agree that that was unlikely.  

"Balls and fucking taint!" Lethelin swore and looked up at the sky. "This is Vish's doing. I know this is. To the nine hells with holy quests!"

She nearly shouted at that last bit which drew some stares their way from a few passers by.

"Lethelin, what are you talking about?"

"You think it's coincidence that we just happen to run into the heir to the Welish fortune while we're out buying armor? A family I am partly responsible for making one of the wealthiest on the continent? Like it was just a coincidence that you found Vras? A--"she lowered her voice back to a whisper, "shadow cat that can apparently be trained? That we just happened to pick a path through the mountains that took us close to Luvari right before Allora was about to die?" 

"I honestly have no idea. As far as I know, my world has no gods. I don't know how they work beyond what Allora has told me." 

"Well, this is how they work!" she spat, though her frustration was not directed at him. "They drop little things in your path and see what you do with them." 

"That's kind of what Allora said, yeah." 

Mitchell could clearly she was upset but he couldn't keep the grin off his face. He found the whole thing highly amusing.  

"And Vish is especially bad about it," Lethelin continued. "Always bothering people going about their business."

"I think we have to tell her," Mitchell said.  

The now very agitated assassin groaned.  

"Of course you do." 

She slumped and rested her head on his chest.  

"It will be fun," he told her, keeping his voice chipper. "It's like telling someone they won the lottery." 

Lethelin gave him a sharp look and then, before he could pull away, thumped him right in his forehead.

"I don't know what that is, but no Engish." 

Mitchell rubbed the spot where she'd nailed him and laughed.  

"After you, chosen one." 

"Am not!" she shot back. "Fucking holy quests." 

By the time they made it back across the street, Drista and Onrick were whispering to themselves and looked as if they'd rather Mitchell and Lethelin would move on, lest the two crazy out-of-towners scare away other customers.  

"Uh, yes," Lethelin began slowly, as if trying to figure out how to begin. "I apologize for startling you, Mistress Drista and good Master Onrick. It's just that, well, I know of the Welish family in the Liastra district. Many people do, actually."

"Oh, really?" Drista said, a little less wary, but still not sure where Lethelin was going. "My dad said fishing was the family business, but the way he talked about it, it didn't sound like much." 

"Hmm. Did he bring his naming day declaration when he came east? And was your name registered with the local temple when you were born?" 

"I think I still have his in a trunk back at the house. And of course I was registered. But look, if you've got something to day, spit it out." 

Drista was obviously at the end of her patience for whatever this was.  

"I do beg your pardon, truly I do. I was just shocked to hear that name because... Well, Mistress Drista, if you are telling the truth and you can verify who your father was and who you are... You are the sole surviving heir of a very wealthy family." 

"What?" Drista said and laughed as if it was all some sort of big joke. "No, I'm sorry but you are mistaken. My dad was just a fisherman. He came out to the High Valley with barely any coin. He told the story often enough. Worked as a farm hand for a few years, saving up as much as he could to buy his own plot and give my mum a good home, and worked hard every day after. Why would he do that if he was from some wealthy family?" 

"Listen, miss, ah...?" Onrick began.

"Lethelin," Lethelin said, surprising Mitchell yet again by giving her real name. "And saying your father was just a fisherman is like saying Stollar's light is a mere candle flame."

Onrick gaped and then remembered what he was trying to do.

"Listen, Miss Lethelin. You're upsetting my wife. I think it would be best if you moved on now." 

"No, I--" Lethelin said, then she reached for Drista's hand fast as a viper strike. "I Lethelin Ne Forlia, swear under Stollar's holy light and on the soul of my departed mother that I speak the truth. Take your father's name day declaration and yours and travel as fast as you can to Stollar's temple in Varset. Declare who you are. Let them test you. They will have to send for a priest from the temple where you were declared and it will take time, but please do as I say. I speak no lie. On my soul, I do not." 

Drista and Onrick looked stunned at Lethelin's vehemence. And, as before, vows as she had given carried real weight here. No one made them lightly.  

A whole series of emotions passed over Drista's face as her husband pulled his wife's hands free of Lethelin's. Then he started packing up their cart.  

"Onrick, do you think...? Is it possible?"

The troubled man looked to his wife and then to the two of them and Mitchell could tell he didn't know what to believe.  

"I... I don't know, sun of my heart. Let's pack up and talk about it at home. That's enough for today." 

Onrick looked at Mitchell and Lethelin like he couldn't decide if he wanted to curse them or hug them.  

She nodded mutely, somewhere between hysterical laughter and hysterical crying. Her hands were trembling badly and she fumbled the utensils so much that her husband told her to go sit and he would take care of everything.  

As Drista stepped away from the cart, she looked with a kind of horrid fascination at Lethelin. Lethelin gave her a nod, then touched her heart and her head.  

"Safe travels." 

Mitchell watched as they finished loading up their cart and began to push it down the street and smiled. Then he took a bite of his neglected skewer and it felt like he'd swallowed a hot coal.

"Horry fucking shiii...!" he cried out as his tongue began to melt off. The only thing that kept the English from being detected by the few people on the street around them were that his mouth was trying to scream around the food.

Lethelin looked up from watching the couple walk away and she stared at him confused.

"They're not that spicy," she said. "The red drake's teeth are the worst." 

Mitchell managed to swallow it down and then his throat began to burn.  

"Was this seasoned with molten lava? Stollar's taint!" 

Lethelin laughed and grabbed his hand.  

"Come on, there's a well at the end of the street." 

***

"That was a nice thing you did," Mitchell told Lethelin when they were back in their room a little while later.  

Orders had been placed, what could be purchased was bought and now sat in a few small bundles secreted away in a spot up in the rafters that Lethelin had made it to with ease. Now, they were waiting for evening when they would sit down in the inn's common room to learn what they could about the broader world outside of the Shadow Glen.  

"You'd think so, but I have likely just flipped the boat and punched a hole in the hull besides. This is going to shake up the entire city." 

"Why, though? So the family gets an heir. Isn't that good?"

Lethelin sighed, although whether it was from exasperation at his ignorance of Varset politics or simple tiredness, he couldn't be sure. He opted to believe it was the last.  

"People have been circling around old Amos Welish for decades now, just waiting for him to announce what he would do with his money after he died. Who would take over the business? Would he declare an heir through legal channels, would he start trying to bed women left and right to produce another one? But the old man has remained silent on the topic, as far as I know. If he's made any plans, he has kept them to himself. And the flesh drakes have grown thicker with each passing year."

Mitchell grabbed one of the chairs from the small writing desk in the room and set it down in front of where Lethelin sat at the end of the bed and listened without interrupting.  

"And not just people from Awenor. There are agents from each of the seven kingdoms in the city just waiting for a chance to be involved in whatever decision the old bastard makes. Gretch shark hunting is worth a lot of crowns. Sorvo told Amos the secret to pacifying them during the hunt and, despite many lives lost trying to figure it out, those two are still the only ones who know. All their men are watched and no man is allowed on a crew without a wife and kids. Every man gives blood and the blood of his family. If one of them betrays the secret, death won't just come for him, but to everyone he loves."

"They aren't fucking around, I guess," Mitchell commented somberly.

"No. So what do you think all those vultures are going to do when an heir comes rising out of the ocean depths like a water elemental from the gods? It might very well kick off a small war. I may have just sentenced that woman to a quick and brutal death." 

That upset Mitchell a little bit. Drista and Onrick seemed like good people.

"But, you said Vish put them in our path."

"I mean, I can't say for sure, but I can't believe it's a mere coincidence. Not something like this." 

"Would Vish do that just to see her killed?"

Lethelin wobbled her head.

"It's not like that," Lethelin began. "If she did do it, watching the city implode might be what she wants. They do things for their own purposes and just because they're gods doesn't make them benevolent."

"She's been helpful so far, though."

"Yes, but why? Do you know?"

Mitchell confessed that he didn't. He could only say that the results have been favorable.  

"This is why I don't like being involved with gods. With people, you can usually guess pretty accurately at their motivations. Coin, sex, love, revenge, desire, sadness, simple things like that. They aren't hard to figure out. And once you know what's driving them, you can make predictions with a decent amount of certainty. But the gods don't work like that. Sometimes chaos is the point. Sometimes suffering is the point just because they're curious.  

"Maybe Ithstasy sends a storm just to see if the boat crews make it back or not. Maybe a child finds a buried treasure just so Vish can see if the family is killed by greedy neighbors who are then killed by the broker they seek to sell it to? Seems good on the surface, but what are the consequences? We just don't know." 

Mitchell sat back a little stunned. So far the things that had been attributed to the gods had appeared beneficial so he had assumed they were beneficent beings. But if Lethelin was right, it meant that there could be serious repercussions down the road that only existed because of their interference. As he pondered the implications, he remembered all the old stories from ancient Earth mythologies where the gods were both kind and evil in equal measure. Even the Christian god was no better. Mitchell had always assumed the stories were that way because they were invented by people and reflected the desires of those doing the writings. But it seemed there were kernels of truth in there after all.  

"Well," Mitchell said into the silence. "There's nothing we can do about it now."

Then he paused, remembering something.

"Can I ask you something, though?"

Lethelin looked up from where she'd been staring at her fingers as she worked them into knots.

"If you were so worried about repercussions and all that, why did you give them your real name? Why didn't you call yourself Sitha?" 

"What are you talking about? I did use the fake name."

"No," Mitchell said slowly. "You gave them your full name. Lethelin Ne Forlia." 

"I--" Lethelin began, but then a look of horror came over her face. "Oh, balls and bloody fucking taint, I did!" 

His attempts to assure her it would be fine fell on deaf ears.