Dreonna’s expertise in locating and collecting the remains of the creature that Alkara had defeated had proved invaluable, Tharan muses as he gazes at the pieces lying on a table in his forge. In order to help him discern which parts he needed and what would go to Dreonna, he had told her his intentions, but requested she keep them in confidence. For once, his certainty in his ability to create what he had in mind is shaky. He did not want to promise something he could not deliver.
“Why?” She had asked, looking at him with curiosity. “It’s not your fault hers broke, even if your bell did ruin her plan. She shouldn’t have gone alone.” He could see the hurt in Dreonna’s eyes as she’d poked at the fire.
Tharan had just smiled, “Perhaps I would like a challenge. I have never worked with such unconventional materials before. And it would be fitting for such a fierce hunter, would it not?”
Dreonna had narrowed her eyes at him, perhaps thinking that there was more going on, and just said, “Uh-huh.”
Tharan sighs and looks up, his hands on the table where the pieces lay. Is there something more going on? There are so many fragments swirling around, so much to consider and contemplate. The practically impossible completeness of her commission proposal. The fact that she had submitted a commission request to him at all. Her willingness to answer so truthfully in the interview, even though she clearly had not trusted or particularly liked him. The mysterious woman who had advised her. The bell ringing early. The uncanny likeness Iroshi shares with how Doë is said to manifest. Ordinarily Tharan wouldn’t have given a human woman a second thought. But there are far too many factors present to be coincidence.
What does it all mean?
And then there are her eyes. Tharan had never thought much about the color green, having lived in a forest his whole life. Yet now… his thoughts trail off and he cannot help but smile as he remembers how hard she had made him laugh in his shop down in the Star Market.
But the smile fades as he remembers the fury and accusation in those eyes the last time he had seen them. And he observes with some wonder at the desolation he feels when he thinks that it is likely that he will never see her again, save when this project was finished.
He shakes his head. It is certainly possible. But at least now he has some idea as to what he is looking for, which is more than he can say for the previous two hundred years of his life. His attraction to her is clear. All he can do is try to learn what it is that has so caught his interest and see if he can make use of that knowledge to finally find his life-partner. The Chord knows he tires of all the bids, ploys, and schemes the women in his clan had attempted.
He lets his head hang, wondering what the chances are that he will find someone with eyes like hers.
*****
Alkara keeps her hood up and her head down as she shuffles between one person after another, trying to make her way through the market, avoiding as much eye contact as possible. When people recognize her, it always turns into a big thing.
Everyone wants to know how she’d done it. She tries to tell them it doesn’t mean anything. Her accomplishment means nothing. She’d managed to kill the thing but she couldn’t have done that without Guen and all the prep she’d done. And sure she’d come back after two weeks in the Wastes but that was all because of Uncle Iro. People kept making it into this thing like she was some kind of crazy amazing monster hunter.
They all conveniently forget about Sengmar. Which infuriates her. She hates all this attention. She shuffles along, making her way to Fom’s Horseshoes and Nails.
Fom is a weird guy in Three Rivers. He hates the guilds. Refuses to work with them. So he isn’t very popular. And he doesn’t make a lot of money. Part of why he’d started making arrows. But Alkara goes to him because one after another, the other fletchers and smiths had tried to use her one way or another. Alkara shakes her head. What she’d told Tharan was true. There’s no avoiding politics. But she hates playing peoples’ dumb games.
A familiar, clear and round high voice meets Alkara’s ears and the hair on her neck bristles. Her hackles up, she looks towards the voice and sees Kierra speaking to a girl.
“Beca? What an interesting name. That’s Copaishan isn’t it?”
The girl nods, her lips tremble but not even a squeak escapes. Two of Kierra’s guards flank them with stern expressions for the young girl. The girls’ eyes twitch left and right.
Alkara’s temper flares. “My my, is the Trading Company hiring children now?”
Kierra starts. She looks to Alkara with mild surprise and smiles, “I fostered your talent long before offering you work. The elders in the community have a duty to the burgeoning workforce.” She gestures to the young girl. “She nearly made off with my coin purse. Her skills might better be applied to something productive for the community.”
The young girl’s hands are tight in a fist. She must know pickpockets don’t often keep all of their fingers. Terrified, she looks back and forth between the two. Her stained wool smock sharply contrasted by Kierra’s finery.
Alkara snorts, “So what, you’re going to buy her thieving lessons so that you can use her to do your dirty work in ten years too?”
Kierra’s smile tightens, “Holding grudges is like swallowing poison and hoping the other person gets sick.”
Alkara rolls her eyes, “Yeah yeah.” Alkara turns to Beca, “Get out of here kid. Don’t take any favors from this lady. Trust me.”
The girl stares at her, wide-eyed and trembling.
Kierra sighs and turns to the girl, “Yes, Beca, run along. But know that if you decide you’d like to improve your skills, I’m happy to put in a good word for you with The Esteemed Club. And,” Kierra pulls out a gold coin and kneels in front of the girl, “This is for you. Whatever you do, don’t let your skills go to waste.”
The girl’s eyes widen even more, though Alkara isn’t sure how that’s possible. She snatches the coin and scampers down the street.
Kierra stands and turns to face Alkara. “Congratulations on your victory, Alkara. Though tales of your conquest are becoming rather exaggerated, I’m sure your Uncle is very proud.”
Alkara shrugs, “I doubt it. I almost got myself killed.”
Kierra nods thoughtfully, “Yes, you were always rather impulsive. Though you thought this challenge through well enough to survive. If he’s not proud, he should be.” Kierra’s face softens.
Alkara stiffens, suddenly very uncomfortable. Kierra may be feeling sentimental, but that doesn’t mean Alkara has to like it.
“I was very sorry to hear about Sengmar. How are you and the family doing?” She asks quietly.
All Alkara can hear is sincerity in the soft words and it pisses her off. Why isn’t she gloating? “We’re fine.” She answers woodenly.
Kierra’s eyes grow sad. “I hear you still haven’t started taking work again. It’s been four weeks since you’ve returned.”
“And it’s none of your business.”
“I could find you safer work, if you like. You could escort our caravans from Blackshaw to Three Rivers. It would be a fine use of your skills, but not so dangerous if you’re afraid–“
“I am not afraid!” Alkara snaps angrily, suddenly feeling like a child and hating every bit of it.
Kierra stares at Alkara sadly for a few moments, “So you will waste both Sengmar’s sacrifice, your talents, not to mention Chiron and Dreonna’s potential as teammates, while you try to drown your guilt and shame at the Melted Griffin with your new drinking partner.” Kierra finishes with disdain. She gestures to her guards and walks past Alkara. “Pathetic.”
Alkara lets out a strangled cry and whips around to fire back a retort. But with tears in her eyes, she realizes she has nothing to say.
“He’s not who you think he is, Alkara.” Kierra calls back. “I’d keep him at arm’s length if I were you.”
Yeah, well, you’re not me. And who the hell do you think you are? Mind your own damn business. Alkara’s angry, hurt thoughts race as she scrubs at her face and turns back toward Fom’s. She just needs some arrows for hunting dammit.
At least Fom is never busy. Or out of stock. But Alkara’s face falls in dismay as she inspects the craftmanship. Fom’s arrows have never been the best, but has his stuff always been… this bad?
Alkara shakes her head as she hands over the coin for the arrows, as well as additional fletching material. She’s just upset from seeing Kierra. The arrows are fine. She can make some adjustments to the fletchings and they’d work well enough. Besides. It’s not like she can go back to Afanen for plain old arrows.
Alkara heads back to the house on the outskirts of town, though she is sorely tempted to just head to the Melted Griffin to see if Eryl is there.
Eryl is just about as miserable as she is, so she enjoys his company. They can sit there and complain together, and no one tries to cheer them up. Except each other. Alkara always points out the amazing things Eryl has going for him, and Eryl does the same to her. Not that she believes him. At all. But it’s nice to hear someone say those things.
Neither of them ever drinks to the point of belligerence. Just enough to dull the edge.
That’s what she’ll do. She’ll drop off her arrows and supplies first, and then head to the Melted Griffin. But when she gets home, she finds a summons from Charlotte waiting for her. Alkara sighs as Dre hands her the note. She’s been getting these every day and ignoring them for weeks, using excuse after excuse for why she can’t take jobs yet.
She’s running out of excuses. And she’s pretty sure Charlotte knows that.
“You’d better answer this one. I’ve never seen Charlotte so angry.” Dre says quietly before turning back to her experiment. “Oh, and try this tonight.” She says as she shoves a flask of dark grey liquid at Alkara. “I think I’ve got it this time.”
Alkara sighs. “Thanks Dre.” She says glumly, knowing there’s no point in telling Dre that that’s what she’d said about the last one. And the one before that. And the one before that.
Alkara tosses the bundle of arrows on her cot, placing the flask more carefully on the floor next to it. She beckons to Guen and then heads to the guild hall of Rook’s Rapid Retrievers.
When she arrives, she knocks quietly on Charlottes door, who calls out for her to enter. Charlotte looks up as she enters, “Oh, good. You’re here.” She stands and walks over to a pile of parchments, promptly dumping them in Alkara’s arms before returning to the seat behind her desk.
Alkara looks down at them, incredulous. “Wh-what is all this?”
“Jobs.” Charlotte says irritably, not looking up from the parchment she’s studying, “And it’s high time you kept up your end of the bargain. I have allocated every job I can to our other teams. These are the contracts that refuse to accept another team. They want you and the Waste Walkers. Now get to it. The late fees are coming out of your pay.”
Alkara starts and looks up at Charlotte, “But… we’re not…”
Charlotte looks up at Alkara impatiently, “You’re not what?”
Alkara swallows. “Charlotte… we’re not a team anymore. How could we be? Chiron and Dre… they won’t… they’ll barely even talk to me.”
Charlotte presses her lips into a firm line, “I don’t care. You’re professionals. You’ll get the jobs done as a team. You can break up once they’re done. Now get going.”
Alkara looks down at Guen, who looks back up at her, unamused. “What?” Alkara asks as she shoves the parchments into her bag and heads out of the office. What is she supposed to do now? There’s no way Dre and Chiron will… but if she does all these jobs by herself without telling them, they’ll just be more angry with her. Alkara groans. She can’t win. Everything she does is a mistake. Her shoulders droop, eyes on the verge of watering. All the choices are wrong ones.
The corner of her mouth twitches as Alkara sighs and hoists her pack up on her shoulders, keeping her eyes down as she makes her way back to the house. She’ll tell them about the jobs. And if they say no, well… then Alkara will do the jobs by herself. It’s only what she deserves. She certainly doesn’t deserve to be a team leader anymore.
Chiron still isn’t home when she gets back.
“Gone to visit his mom,” Dre says, keeping her gaze focused on the two vials of liquid she’s mixing together.
Alkara pulls out the thick stack and starts sorting through the jobs, trying to figure out if she can do any of them simultaneously. Someone saw strange tracks next to their sheep pen… someone wants them to escort their son and his exhibit to Westbriar… someone wants them to stand guard at a festival on the Grecian River…
“Would you like some help?” Dre asks quietly.
Alkara jumps. She’d been concentrating so hard he hadn’t even heard her come over. Alkara keeps her eyes down and shrugs. “If you want.”
Dre says nothing as she sits down and starts rifling through the papers. “What’s the plan?”
Feeling very uncomfortable, Alkara shrugs again, “There’s so many. If I can do some of these at the same time then maybe I can catch up in a couple weeks and Charlotte will get off my back.”
Dre starts sorting through the parchments for a few minutes. Then says, “These contracts are for the Waste Walkers.”
Alkara freezes, dread sitting heavy in her stomach. “Yeah…”
“When were you planning on telling us about them?”
Alkara swallows, “When I got them sorted.”
“Really?”
Alkara squeezes her eyes shut at the hurt in Dre’s voice and nods. But Dre doesn’t say anything after that. She must have made some mental organizational system as she quickly places pages into separate piles. Alkara looks at her own haphazardly grouped job postings. She’d only gotten through a half dozen by the time Dre had arranged a score.
Dre finishes sorting her pile and then takes the pile Alkara’s struggling to get through. Alkara can’t help but feel grateful and relieved. Dre is so much better at this than she is. Alkara starts reviewing the stack Dre had handed her.
It’s not long before Dre finishes sorting her second stack. She pauses after handing them back to Alkara, as if about to say something. But apparently decides against it, since she stands without saying a word and heads back to the table she keeps covered, though meticulously organized, with various liquids, preserved animal parts, and dried plants and powders.
Alkara feels awful, but tries to stay focused on figuring out the best way to tackle all of these jobs.
A few hours later, Chiron comes back, looking ridiculously happy, until he sees Alkara. Alkara winces as his smile fades, replaced with a look of resignation. Alkara looks down, grabs the stack of parchments and tries to clear her throat.
“Um. So these are all the jobs Charlotte has for us. They want the Waste Walkers, but I was thinking we probably should split the stack three ways and tackle them that way. You guys can pick which ones you want first. I’ll take whatever’s left.” Alkara looks up tentatively to see Chiron and Dre exchanging a glance.
“The Waste Walkers work best together.” Dre says softly.
“We did…” Alkara’s voice cracks, unable to continue. Neither Dre nor Chiron say anything, and Alkara is starting to feel like she might pass out from all the pressure building in her head trying not to cry. She abruptly stands. “I’m going for a walk. Pick the ones you want before I’m back or I’ll just do them all myself.”
“Alkara–” Dre begins, but Alkara walks out the door. Closing it before Dre can finish.
Away. I need to get away. Alkara sniffs and swipes at her nose. Too much. It’s too much. I can’t do this. “Come on Guen.” She pops her hood up and heads to the Melted Griffin. She’s given up hope on ever feeling peace again. But at least Eryl can help her feel better about herself, however short-lived that feeling ends up being. And at least by the time that fades she’s usually had enough to drink that the pain no longer overwhelms her.