Date: Thu, 1 Jul 2010 19:00:19 -0400
From: Jaime Higuchi <mordel3003@gmail.com>
Subject: The Sons of Mir Part III

Chapter Nine: The Torn Blacksmith, the Frozen Wife and the Homely Daughter:


 Master Orson, following the loud commotion was not surprised to see his
apprentice at the center of it. Knowing Jerome just wanted to get out of
there; he pushed his way through the spectators and led the young man out
of the alley taking him home.

Once there, he waved his daughter Ann up to her room and order his wife to
pour a mug of last year's cider.  For a moment Ann just stood there,
shocked by her betrothed's haggard state.

With a knitting needle in her clenched fist the blacksmith's wife, Rebecca
jabbed her daughter hard in the backside with its blunt tip.  "How dare you
just stand there?  Get you gone before you anger him further."

More afraid than she was curious, the plain dumpy woman ran up the,
slamming her door in protest.

Laying Jerome down on a long bench at the main table Orson looked at his
wife only to find her glaring upstairs at her daughter's bedroom door.
"You should not treat Ann that way in front of her betrothed or me for that
matter."  The tone in Orson's voice was as hard and unyielding as the steel
from his own forge.

"How dare I?  When it comes to that girl of yours you have no right to
chastise me."

 Stung by her words the coldness in his eyes was the only retort he need
give to force Rebecca to avert her gaze down to the tiled floor.  Once
satisfied he would have no further argument from his wife he sent her off
to the market to collect what they needed for that evening's meal. Without
saying another word she quickly left, her eyes remaining downcast.

After a long silence Jerome whispered.  "Why does she hate Ann so?"

"That is a very hard question to answer.  Maybe one day after you and my
daughter are married I will share it with you.  Since you now seem in the
spirit to talk will you consider answering my questions apprentice?"

  "Like you Master Orson I doubt any answer I could give would be simple
for you to understand."

"You might be surprised by how much I already know Jerome.  At the very
least I am certain that whatever happened has to do with your reckless
hayloft pursuits.  Did the Miller's daughter finally have enough of your
nonsense?"

Jerome's swollen red eyes opened a bit wider a weak smirk forming around
his lips. "Vanessa?  By the Lady, no.  She's almost as bad as I am.  I at
least would never pay homage to his former lordship."

"Forgive me, I did not mean to claim such.  I too am fully aware of her
many trysts to Lord' Weir's bed.  I only brought it up because I know that
while you have agreed to marry my daughter, as homely as she is, Miss
Vanessa is indeed a sight to behold."

"That she is, Master Orson. The prettiest rose in the valley.  I find it
sadly ironic that Ann looks nothing like your beautiful wife just as
Vanessa seems to have been spared her mother's and father's great girth."

The blacksmith closed his eyes and nodded his head while his lips moved
silently, mumbling to himself.  He then looked back at Jerome, a deep
sadness in his eyes.  "Though I dare not say his name, I know who has upset
you so.  I wish there was a way I could save you from such foolishness but
as I too am a fool it would be wrong of me to try to convince you
otherwise."

"Thank you Master Orson.  You will not tell my father about this will you?"

"No, not that there is much even he could do to stop you.  You are his only
child and his wife is far too old to give him another heir.  Even if he
dared to divorce the Miller's cousin to take on a younger wife, your father
is too old himself to hope he would live long enough to see his ambitions
fulfilled.  I will keep your secret for now young Jerome but you would be
wise to end your pursuit before it endangers your father's plans."

"I wish I could as well but I fear it is already too late.  I'm a wolf who
has caught the scent of his prey.  No law or chain will be able to keep me
from the hunt."

"I expected as much.  While the people of Rain Shelter see you as their
pride and joy, do not forget what happened to Lord Weir when he dared to
pursue one of impure blood."

"If any of us are a lesser creature it is us, not him."

"So be it then.  Though you are not my own son I do care for you Jerome.
During the slaver raids I lost all my children save poor Ann.  Knowing that
one day she will be in your care is all I need from you to be to see you
too gain that which you so deeply desire."

"But what of Ann?  Do you really think she will be satisfied having a
lecher for a husband?"

"She is already twenty three years old and has yet to have her offer of
marriage accepted by anyone during the Harvest Festival's Choosing.  Just
to avoid the shame of becoming an old maid like that thrice damned witch is
all she truly desires.  That you will be the one to marry her, as handsome
and well loved as you are will put a heavy debt on me to see that you are
not denied your own happiness regardless of where you seek it.  You have
made no secret of your nature therefore do not fear she will protest too
much if you continue your many pursuits after you two are wed even if it is
with a half blood."

"It will be master.  No matter what happens after the Choosing nothing will
stop my new desire for him from fading."

"When I was a younger man I felt much the same way.  When he appeared in
the town that early spring night, cold, naked, and wet he was already fully
grown though he had yet learned how to speak.  How he had managed to
survive before he came to live among us we will probably never know.  I do
not think he will ever be able to solve that mystery for us.  Though none
in the valley claim to want anything to do with him, I at least am now
willing to admit the sight of him caused a stirring within me.  As the
legends say, no man of pure mortal blood is immune from feeling the sparks
of passion the sight of one of Elven blood gives men and women."

"All these years you have felt as I now do as I would guess many others;
yet they were willing to leave him to cruel, bitter old Cess.  If you felt
that way from the beginning, why didn't you pursue him and save him from
that crone?"

"We were all too afraid, lad.  We all felt drawn to him but we believed our
desire was the result of black magic.  It was all I could do to convince
the others that his life be spared."

"Yet you still gave him over to Old Cess knowing full well how she would
treat him."

"It was the only way his life would be spared.  As I told before the
council, who else but a witch woman could hope to control one with magic in
his blood? We knew she would treat him cruelly but that is what most men
and women in the town desired.  So long as they believed the half elf
timid, they need not fear him. That, I'm sad to say, will soon change.

"For twenty four years he has lived among us though I am sure he is much
older than that.  Still, as always has been our custom this is the last
year he may stand in the Choosing, If, like in the years before, no woman
offers him their hand in marriage then ownership of him will pass to your
father as is his right as our Tallyman."

"Then I will take him from my father and claim him as my own."

Orson shook his head in disbelief.  No matter what he said it seemed like
nothing would divert his apprentice from his folly.  "If you truly intend
to become the next baron you cannot make the same mistake as Lord Weir. If
you take one of Elven blood into your home as a lover the people will
resent you for it.  Though we have lived in this valley for the last three
hundred years, the people still carry the memories of their ancestors'
enslavement by the Half Elven rulers of Elvendar as well as the pure bloods
in the Empire."

"If I claim Vorin as my own there will be little my father could do to stop
it.  By now you know of the growing unrest in the valley among those around
my age.  While your generation views Vorin as a bad reminder of the past,
there are those who see Vorin as I do, one deserving our pity if not also
our love."

The blacksmith looked aghast that his apprentice dared to mention the half
elf by name.  If his wife was not away at the market Jerome's words would
have put them all in danger.  It was all he could do to hide such fears
from Jerome. Still, as he spoke, his tone reflected the heavy weight of his
guilt.  "Yes, I know.  Your father, I and the Miller made our own mistakes
when we took over the valley and one day I fear we will be held accountable
for our betrayal.  All I ask of you Jerome is that you show an old fool the
same pity you give yourself.  There are times when a man can choose which
path to take.  What we both have done and will do in the future is the sort
we will have little choice in picking."

"It is not you, Master Orson, who has kept those who follow me from
claiming their rightful place.  If and when the time comes for your fellows
to face the judgment of their children I at least will speak on your
behalf."

"That is all I can hope of you Master Jerome... other than."

The two were so close now that each could feel the heat from their bated
breath.  The blacksmith's dark eyes were that of a man longing to be
touched.  "Victor..." he whispered as he brushed the knuckles of his left
hand across Jerome's unshaven face.

Jerome swallowed hard.  This was not the first time the blacksmith had
called him by his father's name.  Though far younger, muscular and of
darker hair he did look much as his father did in his younger days.  The
apprentice rightly suspected that his master saw him as the man he wished
his old friend had become.  Is this why his father had sent him to the
blacksmith?  Jerome didn't know.  It did not matter really.  Here was a
good decent man in intolerable pain.  As for himself, Jerome was not the
sort to let others suffer in silence.  "Of course my dear Orson, what can I
do to please you."

"It is what it always is, my beloved."

Jerome let out a sigh.  He put the blame for why this great mountain of a
man could be so timid on his father.  The apprentice knew of several men,
both young and old who would grovel at the Tallyman's feet out of hope of
catching crumbs of Victor's affections, giving no nourishment to their
starving souls.

As they made love Jerome wondered if it was within his power to save his
poor master.  It could be possible, but not if he acted alone.  He now knew
the blacksmith had desires of his own beyond those he wanted fulfilled by
the men of the van Doren clan.  It was ironic that he could solve his
problems and those of the blacksmith by the same means.

Their lovemaking ended too short, for Jerome at least.  As always, Orson
quickly climaxed, going from a man with a ravenous appetite, to a cute
whimpering post-coital puppy of little use.

Frustrated Jerome untangled himself from the blacksmith and hurried to put
his clothes back on.  "I must go."

"If you must, Victor.  Shall I have Rebecca save you a plate for when you
return?"

Jerome pretended to think about it for a moment and then shook his head.
"That won't be necessary my beloved.  Rain Shelter does have several fine
taverns here about."

"That we do.  That we do indeed.  If I may suggest, you should head toward
the Golden Roost.  Around this time of year they will still have some of
Master Roberto's spring lambs in their ice box."

"Thank you... I might just do that.  Now if I may suggest, you better clean
yourself up before your wife returns."

"That won't be necessary, Master Jerome."  Standing at the doorway her blue
and white lace dress darkened by rain Rebecca was quite displeased on
finding her husband in an all too familiar state. In her basket were a pair
of plucked chickens and a small sack of potatoes.

"Till 'morrow, Madam Rebecca," With a tip of his fedora Jerome quickly
excused himself, not daring to look into the woman's dark eyes.

Placing her basket in the open kitchen, Rebecca picked up a meat cleaver
and stared menacingly at her husband. "Well, I see you've created quite a
mess for me to clean up." Without looking away, she dropped the heavy
knife, splitting one of the chickens right down the middle.  "You better
not think I will be fixing dinner all on my own... and you better put
something on before fetching that daughter of yours, not that you two are
too different in manners."

Knowing Rebecca would be most crossed with her daughter if Ann did not aid
in the preparation of the night's meal, Orson called for his daughter to
come down but received no response.  Not wishing for his wife to become
angry with Ann, he climbed up the stairs leading to her room and knocked
before opening it.

Though the room was completely dark he could feel the breeze coming from
the open bedroom window.  Striding across the room he looked out,
desperately searching for his daughter knowing she must have listened in on
his conversation with Jerome.  For the first time since his daughter's
birth he feared what Ann might do more than what her mother might do to
her.

Returning to his wife he whispered; "Ann is not feeling well so she will
not be joining us for dinner."

"I do not care how ill she might be or if she does not eat for that matter.
I will not peel these potatoes on my own."

Seeing Rebecca heading for the stairs he grabbed hold of her tightly until
he was sure he had her full attention.  "Let her be, Rebecca.  If you do
not wish to prepare dinner then I will do it myself."

"That is not your duty my husband."

"I know, it's yours, so you better get to it or I'll make sure you regret
it."

Knowing this was not the time to cross her husband; his wife nodded her
head until Orson let her go.  She then went to a nearby stool and picked up
one of the potatoes and started peeling it.

For a long while the only sound was the crackling noise coming from the
kitchen's fireplace.  Then, without another word to his wife the blacksmith
put on his cloak and left.  The last Rebecca heard from her husband that
night was his powerful voice urging his horse onward toward the farmlands
in the north.

Suddenly weak, the potato slip from Rebecca's grasp.  As a long stream of
tears ran down her pale face she whispered; "Not again.  I beg you, my Lady
Mir, save me from them both.

















Chapter Ten: The Most Excellent Tailoring of the Threads:





	Vorin felt like a coward running away from the poor misguided
apprentice but his loud fit of despair was sure to attract the attention of
others.  As he could not dare stay by Jerome's side least be blamed for the
blacksmith's distraught state, he fled.  What made matters worse was that
before running off he went through Jerome's purse and collected the three
pieces of silver he had promised his mistress.  Only then did he run deeper
down the dark alleyways hoping no one on the other side had heard Jerome's
cries.

	He just made a sharp turn where three houses formed an intersection
when he slipped when he placed a careless foot one a wet lead gutter.  He
fell backwards, his head to land hard on the street floor. Before his mind
could register what had happened, he blacked out.

	While the townsfolk had been gathered around their favored son, a
tall lithe figure, dressed in black stepped out from the back door of his
shop to find the half elf knocked out in the alley.  With the shouts of the
town folk drawing near; he hurriedly carried Vorin inside, locking the door
just as a group of men ran by.

	Going up a flight of stairs he took the half elf up to the shop's
living quarters. There in one of the spare bedrooms he gently laid the half
elf down showing little concern for the silver mercurial blood that was
staining a goose feather pillow.

	While his patient rested, the man in black left for a short while,
returning with a tray carrying a steaming tea kettle, a pair of small
ceramic pots, and a roll of fine blue silk.  With a foot he dragged over
one of the workshop's stools and sat himself down on it, placing the tray
on a nearby nightstand.

 He filled a small porcelain cup with steaming water and dropped a generous
pinch of herbs from the red pot.  While the herbs seeped, he opened the
other pot revealing a faintly glowing deep blue ointment.

	Very carefully he rolled Vorin onto his stomach, exposing the half
elf's cracked skull.  Pasting the wound with large gobs of the ointment he
wrapped it up with several rolls of dark silk.  Once done he put the half
elf on his side and waited in silence for his patient to awaken.

	The man, tall, slender in waist and broad in shoulders, looked down
at the half elf with a deep yearning in his dark eyes.  Only a handful in
the valley knew of Vorin's secret.  He, like the Baron had sworn their
lives, the very threads of their souls, to protect the half elf from harm.
It was proving to be a more difficult task than either of them expected.

	Not only had Vorin suffer the misfortune of falling into the
possession of a witch, but those who wished complete dominion over the
former barony did not plan to miss taking full advantage of one of Elven
blood.  No one outside the conspirators knew that better than Jasper, the
master tailor.

	Seeing Vorin begin to stir, he brushed away the wavy locks half
elf's dark soft hair away from the half elf's eyes.  When Vorin opened his
eyes, the tailor offered him the porcelain cup. "Drink this young master.
It will help ease the pain."

	Tipping the cup slightly so Vorin could slowly drink its contents,
the tailor took the cup away once it was empty.  When the half elf smiled
at him, Jasper could not help but burst into laughter.  "Yes Master Vorin,
my special tea is always sure to put a smile on anyone's face.  I hope you
feel a little better now."

	Vorin's eyes darted around the room as if searching for something
or someone.  "Where am I?"

	"You are in my home and workshop.  As for whom I am, my name is
Jasper, the newly arrived master tailor from Northern Reach.  Surprisingly,
I happen to be an old but very good friend of both Lord Weir and Master
Jerome.  I hope that does not cause you any worry."

	It must have for there was a hint of fear in Vorin's gray eyes.
"Both of them..."

	"Yes, though Jerome does not know it.  I have known the Baron
before I reached the age of my maturity, and Jerome even earlier.  In any
case you have no reason to fear either one of them, let alone myself."

	Vorin hesitated before replying.  "I will try."

	"I understand.  You know nothing about me after all.  And given how
poorly you've been treated by everyone in the valley, feeling some wariness
shows nothing but wisdom on your part.  That does not mean I can't earn
your trust."

Reaching under his black velvet doublet the tailor pulled out an amulet
that had a dark coin at its center.  "Does this look in any way familiar to
you?"

Vorin did indeed recognize the coin for Lord Weir wore a silver one around
his neck.  He did not know why the baron had never mention the tailor to
him but seeing it helped ease his fears.  "I never knew."

"You were never meant to know unless it became necessary.  With what will
be your twenty-fifth harvest festival fast approaching the danger that
threatens us all will be all the worse now.  As you know, the people of
Rain Shelter will force you to submit yourself to the Choosing.  If no
woman in Rain Shelter will have you as their husband then the Elders will
finally have the power to either expel you from valley or sentence you to
death.  That is of no matter.  Neither I nor Lord Weir will let things go
that far.  It is of the more secret dangers that should worry is all."

Vorin had longed to live in a proper house where he would be loved but he
never believed such a day would come to pass.  It confused him that Jasper
was promising that his life as Old Cess' slave would soon end but at the
same time warn him that not all such challenges would he so easily solved.
"When, Master Jasper?  How much longer until I can finally be free."

"A little while longer my dear half elf.  As you know there are very few in
the valley who would allow one of Elven blood live among them freely.
While you might have to remain a slave for now, soon enough you will be
free of your mistress and hopefully finally take whatever path you choose."

"Does that mean his lordship..?" Vorin knew he shouldn't have bothered to
ask such a question but it was one that had to be asked.

"No Vorin.  Just as the free people of the valley would never let you be
free of your slavery, they will never let their former lord claim ownership
of one of your special heritage.  As for why we do not flee from this
valley, taking you with us, all I can say it that it is the will of the
Lady that we cannot until the night of the Choosing."

Vorin knew all too well what happens to those who dared to go against the
will of Lady Mir.  The former rulers of Jazzard, the Mountain Elves had
dared such during their war against the dark god Vor.  While they managed
to defeat the God of Boundless Desires, the manner by which they had
achieved their victory so enraged the goddess Mir that she placed a death
curse upon the entire race, wiping them completely from existence, leaving
only the haunting presence of their cursed spirits bound to the city of
Soulvalla from where the Mountain King had ruled over all of Elfdom. "I
understand.  The will of the Lady must be obeyed," Vorin whispered
disappointment clearly evident in his defeated demeanor.

Pained by such an expression, Jasper refilled the tea cup, adding two
pinches of the finely ground herbs.  "Would you like me to pour you another
cup of tea?"

As soon as Vorin had finished the extra strong cup he could not stop from
laughing.  "You're worse than Lord Weir."

"I know I am and so does his lordship.  Would you like to know the name of
another person who has experienced my wicked ways?"  Not waiting for a
reply, Jasper leaned over and whispered the name in Vorin's ear.

Instead of laughing as the tailor had expected, Vorin closed his eyes and
let out a deep groan.  "No wonder he's such a lecher."

	_________________________________________________





With the sun setting behind the distant Cathinian Mountains in the west,
the time had come for Jasper close his shop, relieved that Vorin would be
able to sleep in the comfort of a proper bed if only for one night.  As for
what the future might bring, Jasper had no intention of letting the half
elf face the witch's wrath without him.  Lord Weir had sworn to obey the
Lady in this matter but the Tailor had not.

"Master, may I see Prince Vorin?"  His apprentice asked eagerly

Jasper slapped his apprentice with such force it sent Niles spinning
against the shop's counter.  "Never, never let anyone hear you call him
that, including myself.  You would slay us all, Vorin included, with that
loose tongue of yours."

He was about to hit the young man again when he saw streaks of yellow gold
running down his cheeks.  Ridden with guilt he attempted to comfort his
apprentice but the cowering youth pulled away.  "I... I... terribly sorry
Niles.  I should never strike out at you for things that are not your
fault.  These years have not been easy for either of us... probably harder
on you than anyone else.  If you just hadn't giving Landis those damned
coins... Never mind you did what needed doing, by no mistake."

"Forgive me master.  I've been so lonely since... since forever I suppose."
This time when Jasper reached for him Niles didn't pull away.

"I know too well you are, my lad.  What's done is done so there's no point
fighting over a bunch of what ifs.  How about this... Knowing our dear
Landis he is probably at the Golden Roost right now so what do you think
about joining him for supper."

"Really?  Can I?"  That brief moment of excitement disappeared as fast as
it came, replaced with a torn expression.  "I would rather stay here and
help you care for Vorin, if I may."

"You may not, you young rascal... for this one night at least.  You have
been waiting to pounce poor Landis since the day we met while this is our
guest's first night under our roof.  Do you have enough coin on you to show
you soon to be companion a good time?"

Freeing his purse from his belt, Niles shook it, the coins producing the
sort of jingling only a rich pouch can make. "I do."

"There better not be a single Half Talon in there.  If I had known you have
the audacity of giving three of them to that young bard out in the open I
might have left you in Northern Reach until you had gained enough common
sense."

"No Master Jasper, please don't say that."

"You're right. I shouldn't.  Once again I'll ask your pardon though asking
probably makes me a fool's fool."

Instead of a reply Niles rushed toward the shop's front door.  He was half
way out the door when he stopped and giddily said; "Already given."  With a
wink and a wave goodbye he was gone.

Leaning against the countertop Jasper started rubbing his temples.  "I must
be a fool to dare raising a hand at him.  Unfortunately for me he will make
sure I pay him back in spades after he fills out.  That makes me more of a
fool than he has ever been." When he removed his hands, they revealed the
black stain lines of his tears.  "That damned druid better be right about
Jerome.  If he chooses to take the same path as his father...  Dare I
imagine what will happen to these poor fool of a people.  Most likely they
would get what they rightfully deserve, unfortunately."

With a start the tailor shook himself free of his despair.  Did he hear a
groan from upstairs?  There it was again.  He did give Vorin three pinches
of ground numb root didn't he?  That should have kept the half elf asleep
until morning. Then again, how could he suppose to know what affect his
herbs would have on Vorin, lost prince or not?

Taking the stairs three at a time, Jasper ran back to the spare bedroom to
find the half elf trying to undo the wrapping he had so laboriously put
around Vorin's cracked skull.  "I wouldn't do that if I were you, young
lad."

 "It itches too much."

"You should be happy it itches.  If it wasn't than that would mean you were
dead, as much sorrow that would bring to my thin soul."  Gently he took the
offending hand and placed it by Vorin's side.  "Shall I make you so more
tea?"

	 "No," the half elf replied flatly.

	Wonderful, he already finds me annoying.  My concoctions that is.
"I really think you should."

	"Well I don't, Master Jasper.  So unless you plan to shove a funnel
in my mouth it would be best that I don't catch your hands in the pots
again."

	Funny enough the tailor already had a whole fistful of the
numb-root, more than enough to kill the half elf, not to mention all
further pain.

With a nervous chuckle Jasper attempted to return the medicine back to its
pot, making a mess of the bed in the process.  "Let me get you some clean
sheets?"  Sheets indeed... all Jasper wanted was to hide in his deepest
closet to avoid further embarrassing himself.  "Does his lordship get so
fuddled up when he is around you?"

"All the time Master Jasper.  My presence seems to scare away most people's
common sense."  Vorin let out an exhausted sigh.  He wanted to leave but
knew his present state would not allow it.  He found men like Jasper and
Jerome, men who trip over themselves to fawn at his feet, most annoying.
That bad habit was not the tailor's fault and it was wrong of him to blame
him for it so he sincerely asked his caretaker his forgiveness, which was
quite unusual for the shrewd.

"Now was that so hard to say, my dear half elf?"

"Harder than you can imagine," is what Vorin wanted to say but shook his
head instead.  If he had spoken his real mind on the matter, it would have
defeated the purpose of his first apology therefore requiring him to give
an intolerable second.

Jasper saw through the ruse and laughed.  "Now I understand why Regis gets
so frustrated when he talks about you.  You're more stubborn than a mule
and prideful as a peacock by no mistake.  Well I'm sure when you come to
meet the proper person he or she will be able to dull your fangs."

"I am not that horrible of a person, am I?"

"Horrible no, reeking of terrible bitterness, most definitely.  That can
only be expected given your situation.  You were not given the easy path to
follow, no mistake."

"If you mean I have no say in who loves me or I them?"

Ah the list, that very long list of interested parties.  Regis, Jerome,
Roberto, and most frightening Jerome's father, the Tallyman.  Well, not
Master Victor, not yet at least.  Jasper knew Vorin had to know that the
path that would lead him to accepting the Tallyman as his beloved was fast
approaching.

And that was the answer...  Out of those short thoughts Jasper quickly
understood why Vorin had taken a sudden dislike of him.  The half elf had
talked with the Baron and probably all of his servants as well so he knew
that the tailor was not one of them.  That is why Vorin wasn't willing to
trust him.  In his eyes, Jasper was a slave, not any slave, but the
personal slave of the one he feared most.  Sad to say his distrust was well
justified.

"I beg your forgiveness, Master Vorin.  I should not have been so flippant
about things that have not brought either of us much joy.  In the matter of
Jerome and his father I have less of a say in what will happen than you
do."

"That does not mean you have no preference."

Feeling Vorin squeeze his hand, sent a ripple of relief through Jasper's
soul.  At least Vorin had not taken him as one of Victor's agents.  "That
would be Jerome. It has always been him, regardless of his foolishness.
Which one it is to be only you can say."

"That is what I hate about Jerome... It does not matter who I pick, it
won't change what will happen in the end."

"Only what will happen to this valley and its people.  You don't know how
your choice will affect the rest of our world.  That the Lady will only
show you what parts of your path best suits her should make you suspicious
of what the future might bring.  That is why I have gambled the thread of
my soul never doubting you will make the right choice."

"Damn the son or damn the father... that is not much of a choice."

"Put it this way, save a good man from himself or damn us all just to save
one who will always be evil."

"As you said, not much of a choice, is it?"

"Too often life proves to be all too terribly cruel.  Sometimes the best we
can do is to chose the path that will make us most happy.  You know Jerome
would be more able to do that than his father ever will."

Taking a white kerchief from his pocket Jasper wiped away the half elf's
silver tears.  He would keep that square of silk as a prized heirloom for
he did not imagine those tears were the kind that was shed often enough.
Damn the Lady and her cruelty, if Vorin's father had known how the goddess
of the land would try to use his son...  His teeth were biting hard enough
on his tongue to make it bleed, Jasper was so furious.  No wonder Vorin
treated Jerome with distain.  He didn't want the foolish youth to fall in
love with him, continuing to believe that love and the future it would
bring could still be stopped.

It couldn't and wouldn't because it was never meant to.  It was a longing
so ancient that it probably existed before man took their first step on the
shores of Mir.  What was Vorin to do, damn the good son and save the Land
or damn a man who had already condemned his soul to the pits of hell so the
son could kill them both.  He always knew which one Vorin would choose, and
sadly so had Vorin.

"Do you think he will ever forgive me for how I've treated him?"

"I am sure he will without you asking and in time he will come to love you
all the more when he learns what you sacrificed for his sake."

"I've always despised the prat, not wishing to love him but how can I not.
I know what he will strive to do if I let him.  Sometimes I think I will
never let him even if I choose his path for now."

For now... how can Vorin believe his path would ever fork again once he
made his choice?  Jasper never heard Ezekiel speak of the possibility nor
had the Baron.  So could Vorin know that none other did?  There was his
affair with Roberto which none had foreseen.  Was the Rancher to play a
much larger role in things that anyone had guessed?  Jasper had to find
out, and quickly.

For the rest of the night Jasper watched Vorin in silent contemplation.
Come dawn and Niles return he would be off to pay Roberto Simms a visit.



Chapter Eleven: A Meeting of Old Companions:





Niles knew his skipping around must make him look a fool but he didn't
care.  He was far too happy to worry how others saw him, well almost.  He
was going to the Golden Rooster where, if Master Jasper was right, Landis,
his dear lost friend would be waiting for him.  Well, not waiting per say,
but he would be there entertaining the late crowd with song, tales and
poetry.  He just hoped the bard would save a few of his best love poems for
him before the night was through.

So what if he was as big of a fool as Jasper would often proclaim.  So long
as his motives remained pure no harm should come to him.  But where his
motives completely pure?

On reaching main square where the town hall, the largest counting offices,
and many of the most impressive homes stood, Niles stopped long enough to
try and regain his composure, if just a little.

He had countless memories of his dearest companion.  It was a terrible
shame knowing his old friend did not.  What could he say and how could he
say it without making himself look like a raving youth?  Hello Landis, you
don't remember me but we used to have great deal of fun together when we
were much older.  Would you like to come out and play?  No, something like
that wouldn't do at all.  He would have to think long and hard about this
before he let himself enter the Golden Roost.  The first impression is
always the most important one and right now he knew he wouldn't make a very
good one.

He had meandered halfway across the square when some great force sent him
sprawling.  "Hey watch where you're going" He shouted at the towering man
running away from the tavern, heading for the west gate.

After he had gotten back onto his feet he feeling something wet run down
his face from his scalp.  Examining every part of his face, he screamed
when his hands were stained yellow.  "No, no, no...  Not now!"  In a panic
the apprentice went to the nearest storefront, a flower shop happened to be
owned by the obscenely rich Miller who owned one business out of four and a
third of all houses in town.

Yep, there it was, much to Niles terror, a stream of golden ichors running
down the middle of his forehead to drip of the tip of his pug nose.  No
problem, I can fix this, he thought with false confidence.  With great care
he removed his coat, the first coat he had made himself, and used its inner
lining to soak up the glowing blood.

When he was sure every drop was gone, he put the coat back on and checked
his reflection once more.  No speck of gold on his forehead and nose.  His
blond hair was alight but he was sure no one would notice inside the
tavern.

But what if he wanted Landis to take a walk with him?  What would he do
when he wanted to go home? The bard or someone else would surely notice how
shiny his hair was in the darkness of night.  A thousand `what ifs' ran
through his mind.  His panic growing with each one that forced its way into
his thoughts.

Then there was his coat.  Made with black dyed wool the glow from the
stained inner lining was strong enough to penetrate the dark outer fabric.
Now this certainly would not do.

Where could he hide this bit of incriminating evidence that he was not of
pure blood?  Think, think, think.  At the peak of his panic he suddenly
remembered where he was.  Town square was where all the rich people lived.
Unlike most parts of town, those who lived here were not the sort to toss
their garbage out on the streets.  There was no sight or smell that they
did.

It was his search for the local dustbin that took up nearly an hour of his
time until his nose finally caught whiff of its location.  He ended up
going out of the square into the maze of back alleys where he found a cart
that stood directly beneath one of the house's garbage shoots.  He should
have known the people of town square would not like their neighborhood
tainted by the smell of trash.  It was under that heap that he buried the
coat with every intention of retrieving it later that night.

Now in a desperate state, Niles did walk, skip or merely run to the tavern
as much as he nearly flew.  He did not know if he would find Landis still
at the Golden Roost but he also didn't know when he would have another
chance at pouncing.

He must have made quite a sight when he burst into the tavern.  The room
was dead silent and every eye appeared to be on him.  Afraid he still had
some of his blood on him, he started spinning around like a dog trying to
catch its tail.

"Will you sit down and shut up.  He was just getting to the good part." One
of the patrons barked.

Chastened, Niles sat himself on a chair that had been cast aside to an
isolated corner.

 	Hearing the sharp twirl he looked for its source and found his dear
Landis atop a long table, with a flute to his lips.  "It was, as I said,
before we were rudely interrupted..."

	As his heart continued to sink Niles listened as his beloved bard
told the tale of Cadin, the tragic and last prince of the Mountain Elves.
He had already sung of the days when he and the two gods of the Huma, Saint
Gregory of the Faith, and Vor, the dark god of Forbidden Desires, had been
raised together as brothers only to make war againt one another in the
horrifying Cataclysm Wars that led to their mutual destruction leaving once
great Jazzard in ruins.

	It was the final climax of the wars which Landis was now singing
with a beautiful tenor that could be both strong and gentle.



Great Gregory,

The mourning god,

In his despair

Ventured too far,

Till Dragon's Maw

His feet did lead,

To face the doom long foretold.



The three did weep,

The three did fight,

And in the end

All three but one,

Were doomed by their despair.



On his knees

He did beg,

For salvation thought lost,

But to no avail,

For on deaf ears

His pleas did fall,

His listeners unwilling to give what he desired.



The three did weep,

The three did fight,

And in the end

 All three but one,

Were doomed by their despair.



 The Maw did snap,

 The trap was sprung,

 His sword he drew

To face tooth and claw,

The three dear friends ,

Friends no more,

 Each others death was all they sought.



The three did weep,

The three did fight,

And in the end

All three but one,

Were doomed by their despair.



Aza the Green,

Aura the Blue,

Summoned what might

 Only they both knew,

To slay the one,

Who betrayal them all,

So the Lands of Mir could heal from its scars.







The three did weep,

The three did fight,

And in the end

All three but one,

 Were doomed by their despair.



With a final snap

And thrust of sword,

Gregory and Aura

Met their end,

With two now dead

 There was but one,

To mourn the loss of our Land.



The three did weep,

The three did fight,

And in the end

All three but one,

 Were doomed by their despair.



But my dear one

Do not cry,

For all has yet to be lost,

There still a chance

For rebirth,

Through the one

Whose coming long foretold,

The one who would see justice done.



The three did weep,

The three did fight,

 But in the end

 They were ever well beloved.

... Ever well beloved.



When the last note finally faded away there was naught but silence.  On the
faces of both men and boys tears could be found rolling down their cheeks.
These fools might show nothing but their distain towards both gods of elves
and men but at that moment none would deny the power of that song.

Aura the Blue serpent of the Mana, and Emerald Aza of the Ether had once
fought by Saint Gregory's side to end the nightmarish reign of Vor, the
dark god of Forbidden Desires.  It was how the war was won that turned the
friends against one another.  Instead of taking part in the final battle
Saint Gregory had abandoned his allies at their moment of greatest need to
deal with the Usurper Emperor Gladius III. That left only the patron gods
of the elves to fight with Prince Cadin of the Mountain Elves to rid the
world of darkness forever.

Because of that betrayal the allies' victory over Vor was only half won and
bitter sweet for at the moment Cadin slew the dark god, a deed the Land had
deemed to be Gregory's alone, were cursed by the goddess Mir to be doomed
to live out for the rest of time as tortured souls who would never be
reborn.

The loss of the Mountain Elves and especially beloved Cadin was seen as an
act of treachery by Aza and Aura. After all if Gregory had been present in
the final battle and killed the dark god, the Mountain Elves would have
been spared and the Elf Clans would not have gone into exile.  That was how
the Elven gods saw it at least.

Saint Gregory on the other hand put much of the blame on the two entwined
pair.  Were they not the ones who swore by the threads of their souls to
protect Cadin no matter the cost? It was they, not he who had betrayed
their oaths.  It was because of them that the prince had died and his
people doomed.

While all three sunk to the morass of despair, it was Saint Gregory who
either out of terrible sorrow or crushing guilt who went mad in the end.
In his vengeful rage he crucified the false emperor and all his kin, until
not one drop of blood of the Thirteenth House flowed in the veins of men.

As neither his guilt nor sorrow was lessen by the ruining of one of his
bloodlines, the god of the Faith turn his wrath against those of his
followers who had fought in the last battle.  In his eyes they too were
guilty of Cadin's death.  For fifty years the tribes of men fought among
each other to prove to their god that they remained faithful.

The killings and civil wars did not come to an end until after Saint
Gregory's death.  Why, after so many years, did the god of the Faith seek
Aza and Aura out like he did, none one not even the three patriarch of the
Gregorian Church, could make an honest claim that they knew.

 The teachings of the Church held that the God of the Faith had gone to Aza
and Aura to beseech them to bring their people back only for his friends to
betray and kill him.  In the lands of the Elven Old Kingdoms most believed
Saint Gregory had gone to the Maw to demand the pair recognize him the sole
god of both men and elves, which they refused and therefore were forced to
slay the mad god for the sake of all Mir.

In truth there were as many explanations as there were countless people,
both of pure blood and Elven as to why the three gods had fought.  And even
though a thousand years had passed since the terrible day when two gods had
died, it was a question the followers of Saint Gregory were no closer in
answering.

As could be expected, Niles had an opinion of his own as to why Saint
Gregory ventured into the Maw.  He believed that deep down the god of the
Faith knew his murdering madness had to stop or his people and all of Mir
would be forever ruined.  Based on that theory Gregory had gone to the Maw
so he could be killed and unfortunately Aura died as well.

Niles was so confident in his theory that he would never willingly share it
with others.  He would not dare speak of it among those of pure blood as
they would be greatly offended hearing, that one of the gods of the Huma
had willingly surrendered his life to the gods of the Elves, regardless if
they counted themselves among Saint Gregory followers.

 On the other hand he probably never dare speak of it in the company of
those of Elven blood.  That was mainly due to the fact that, besides Vorin,
he simply didn't know of any others.  He also greatly feared that those
among the Half Elves would be offended by the idea that great might Aura
had died simply because Gregory had made a selfish request that he do so.

It was well know that the Lady, goddess of the Land supreme, would never
let those who dared to renounce the life she had given him, have another
chance to do so again.  It was for that reason, above all others, that
Niles was sure to keep his opinions to himself.  For be they men or Elven
born; both believed that Saint Gregory of the Faith and Aura, patron god of
the Elves and the healing Mana would one day be reborn to continue their
vengeful duel, a rebirth that Niles believed would never happen.

With the end of the ballad, many of the patrons were making their way out.
Landis was at the bar, settling with the tavern keeper.  By the time Niles
summoned enough courage to leave his corner there were less than a half
score left.  Landis was still at the bar, counting his coins.  In the
backroom was Davin Halcyon, a young man near the same age as Landis.  His
father Deacon Halcyon owned the most profitable counting house in the
valley.  When and more importantly, if he inherited the family business he
would command the same fear and respect that Master Victor and the Miller
inspired.

Davin's dining companion man was Rolf Hendrickson, a young bear of a man
whose quick temper was only exceeded by his protective nature towards those
he saw as his cubs.

       That the two were huddled together did seem an odd pairing as
Davin's father was among those the people needed protection from.  As his
heir Davin was by no means helpless. Yet the two were there in the
backroom, heads together wearing the kind of closed grins most often seen
on the faces of youths who are up to no good or... Oh dear.

Shaking his head, he tried to stop his thoughts from dwelling on
possibilities that were none of his business.  So what if their friendship
involved more than the nightly trip to the pub.  Such relationships were
quite common among the unchosen.  The years between a man's sixteenth and
twenty-fourth summers were seen as the best period in a young man's life.
Those years were their freest anyway.

Outside their duties as a bound apprentice or field worker the young men
and women in the valley could do whatever they wished until the night they
are Chosen.  They could go where they please, befriend whoever they wished
, regardless of their standings, and most importantly bed whoever they
wish, married or not.

Almost anyone that is...  Though no law had been passed forbidding anyone
from pursuing the half blood the Elders had made it well know that any
attempt by the youth to befriend Vorin would bring terrible shame on their
families, most families that is.  The van Dorens, the Millers, the Simms,
and the Halcyons were households whose sons could do as they please with
impunity.

There was something else about the pair, something very familiar.  Niles
would have to get much closer to them to be sure but his nose never lied.
The scent of magic was in the air.

With another shake he gingerly made his way to the bar where his beloved
Landis was digging into a sizzling plate of thinly sliced spring lamb and
summer vegetables.

"Uhm... Hello Master Landis."  Master Landis?  Was that he best he could
do?  The bard was his dearest.  So why was he being so formal.

"Uhm, Hi."  The bard did a double take and jumped; the high chair he was
seated on knocked down to the floor with Landis along with it.

Panic stricken, Niles rushed to Landis' side his nimble hands doing far
more than helping the bard.  "Sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't mean to scare
you."

"And I didn't mean to scare you.  But if you don't mind, I think I can get
up on my own."

Like a child caught in his mother's cookie jar, Niles hand's darted away
doing his best to feign innocence.

The pair stared at one another in deep silence.

 Crack! The logs in the fire pit collapsed into piles of gray ash and
glowing cinders.  Not that either man noticed.  They were too occupied with
the feel of their bodies, the snapping of the blocks of cedar no different
than their collapse of self restraint.

 "My word..."  The two had their hands halfway down each other's pants when
the tavern keeper's wife, May Sweetcastle appeared from the kitchens.

"Now, now May, leave these poor lads alone.  It's not like you haven't seen
this sort of stuff before."

"I will not have a pair of louts doing... whatever they were about to do,
under my roof.  So dear husband of mine unless you want to take a rolling
pin to your head you will shoo these miscreants out."

Master Dillon leaned against the bar, his wiry frame held up by his skinny
elbows.  "Sorry lads, my wife has yet to forget the tales of my adventurous
youth."

"Why did you wed then?"  Landis asked.

"Why!"  Rage filled Master Sweetcastle's eyes.  "Get you gone before I take
a cudgel to you."

"So bet it.  I'm sure the Copper Ladle is in need of a good song."  The
bard got as far as the door before he noticed that Niles was not following
him."

"What are you staring at?"  The tavern keeper demanded from the blond
youth.

"You heard Master Dillon.  He doesn't want our sort around here."

"I know my friend.  I'm just waiting for Master Rolf and Master Davin to
catch up with us."

"What?"  Landis and tavern keeper asked, their voices echoing each other.

"What!"  May stormed into the main room, a well floured rolling pin she
swung around with the fury as a raging barbarian itching to chop off a few
heads.

"Your pardon madam, but if we have to leave, don't they have to as well.  I
mean, at least we kept our pants on."  Niles pointed towards the backroom,
the eyes of the three others following it to where Master Rolf was on his
knees, his lips tightly wrapped around Davin's swollen cock.

Before Landis could come up with a snide remark, May launch her rolling pin
at the pair hitting Rolf squarely in the middle of his spine.

While Rolf had been hit, Davin was one who jumped; spewing such foul curses
that only Old Cess would be proud of.  Rolf for his part remained on his
knees, a large hand about his throat as he gasped for air."

"So tell me fat cow of a bitch why shouldn't I have my father shut your
establishment down and the pair of you sent off to the Tallyman."

Finding himself caught between the infuriated book keeper, Niles quickly
retreated to Landis' side.  "I think this would be a good time to make our
exit."

"And miss the rest of the show?"  Landis laughed.  How queer Niles was.  He
had taken pleasure in causing this mess but with mention of the Tallyman,
he didn't want to stick around to see his doings to the end.  His laughing
was quickly cut off when Davin stopped shouting at the tavern keepers long
enough to sic Rolf on the young pair.

"You won't be giving me any trouble, will you?" Were Davin was berating the
Sweetcastles with the force of a hurricane, the giant of a man's bright red
face was like looking down the shaft of a volcano that's about to explode,
him far more dangerous than his companion.

Without a word, the bard and the tailor did as they were told, putting
themselves as far as possible, which were the very spots Rolf and Davin had
sat.

"Get them out of my sight, Rolf."  The book keepers voice was hoarse and
his brown hair a disheveled mess.

Grabbing wife and husband by their necks, the farmer's son pushed the
tavern keepers out of their own establishment.  When the door had been
bolted and barred, he crossed his arms and snickered.

"Now that wasn't so hard was it?"  Having reached under the bar, Davin was
soothing his sore voice with a bottle of valley's prized vodka.  "How
appropriate, bottled twenty five years ago.  Seems like all that's good and
cursed in this damned fucking valley dates back to that god cursed year."

"You shouldn't say that, master.  This will be our twentieth fifth year and
our last Choosing."

"And choose what!  You are not so thickheaded to believe any woman would
choose me out of genuine love.  You seen for yourself the terror my bearing
the Halcyon name brings on others.  It doesn't matter.  My damned father
has already deemed I am to take no wife this year."  Davin took a lard swig
of the fiery liqueur until not a drop remained.  He then threw the crystal
decanter at the long wall spanning mirror behind the bar, shattering them
both.

"He can't do that."

"Of course he can't.  The right to stand in the Choosing is sacrosanct.
That might be the finally rite I must passed to entire manhood and is one I
want.  My father... the bastard, if I accept any woman's choosing me, my
father has promised... no, will see that I and my bride will become the
personal property of that fucking Tallyman."

Niles scooted his chair closer to Landis.  "He might be finely dressed but
he speaks from the gutter."

"Shut up," he hissed under his breath.  He would have boxed the naïve idiot
but didn't dare draw more attention to himself.

Unfortunately the book keeper had not forgotten about him. "So, Master Bard
and whoever you are."

"Niles, apprenticed to Master Jasper, the tailor.  We just..."  He let out
a gasp before he could say more.  Landis, his sweet dear beloved had just
jabbed him hard in the gut with a well aimed elbow.

"He doesn't want to hear you life story, fool."

"I'm not a fool!"

"You sure your father isn't doing you a favor by not allowing you to
marry?"

"Rolf, my dear friend, right now I would marry that twice damned hag and
live among the trash heaps if doing so would free me from my father's iron
grasp."  Davin pointed a finger at Niles.  "So Master Niles, you claim to
be Master Jasper's apprentice.  I did not know a slave could own a slave of
his own.  No matter.  I've heard my father speak of your master, in not so
pleasant terms mind you, but what else can be said of one so entwined with
our beloved Tallyman."

 "My master is a good and honorable man."

"Aye, so he's a good man who just does what he's told no matter how
abhorrent.  Isn't that what is expected of a good and honorable slave.
Always do as you're told without question or protest?"

"My master is a good and honorable man..."  This time his defense of the
tailor was so weak it only served to validate everything Davin had said."

Davin shook his head with disgust.  Why did this slave, for he would bet
his life that, collar or no collar, the boy was a slave, feel the need to
defend his oppressors.  The fair haired youth certainly knew better than he
the nature of Master Victor's god-be-cursed soul.  "You are quite right,
Master Landis; your companion is need of a fool."

Seeing Niles in tears washed away any resentment he had felt towards him
for getting him into this mess.  Moving towards his foolish yet sweet new
companion he wrapped an arm around Nile's trembling shoulders.

"Well, look at that boss.  Doesn't that remind you of the day we first
met?"

"Yes, but only so I won't have to listen to you tell these louts all about
that nasty business."

"You were so cute and helpless back then."

	"Shut up Rolf."

 	Though he knew all too well book keeper's history of the revenge he
took against all those who once tormented him, Landis could not stop
himself from laughing and Davin's pouting face.

	"Want me to handle this boss?"

	"You don't think I can?"

	"Oh I know you easily can.  My way is just more merciful than
yours."

	"Why, you're going to beat them into strawberry jam.  I don't see
how that will be seen as kindness."

	"I know you think me as much a fool as that young lad but I know
that you know that beating them into a pulp does not compare to the sort of
nasty things you are capable of.  You do not want people calling you the
Tallyman's pet, do you?"

	"No.  Master Victor already has too many cretins at his beck and
call that I do not want my name added with theirs.  This Jasper fellow is
supposed to be the worst of the lot.  Isn't that so, Master Niles?

	Landis covered Niles mouth before he could reply.  Though he had
not known the man he had seen Niles with at the market was none other than
Victor's favorite attack dog, he did not want this strange and fragile
youth be forced to admit as much."

	"To think, Landis Huber would be willing to risk his scrawny little
neck to try to protect someone more pathetic than he is, well quite
frankly, unbelievable."

	"Which is why, boss, I will not harm them and neither shall you."

	"So be it then.  I warn you however, if they make a mess of things,
your hide will be the one collected.  Now before you get all sweet and
sentimental on me, tell me what want me to do with the pair of them."

	"We could take them with us."

	"Do I look like their nanny, not that either of their folks were
able to afford one for them."

	"It's just a party."

	"It's not any party.  It's this season's Fool's Feast."

	"Fool's Feast?"  Niles head was up wearing a smile that was quickly
growing bigger.

	"Shut up."  All of them, Landis included, grunted.

	"But I've been to every Fool's Feast for the past five years.  My
master and Master Roberto are good friends."

	"You jest.  You expect us to believe that Master Roberto, probably
the only honest good man in this cursed valley sees you and your master as
friends?  I've never seen you there and I've gone to every Fool's Feast
since I was sixteen.  I think this will be my ninth year."

	Niles snorted, and brushed his long blond hair away from his eyes.
"Of course you never saw me.  You can't go without a mask.  You would know
that if you had ever gone to one."

	"He's right about that boss.  If I remember rightly last spring you
mask was the head of a fat green caterpillar made out of papier-mâché.

	"And you wore the same dumb mask you always wear, an ox."

	"It's a bull, it has always been a bull and will ever be a bull for
that is the only mask I will wear."

	"It doesn't matter how faded the paint or that the horns have been
broken and glued back on so many times they would look better on a ram; he
keeps on wearing it."

 "You gave it to me."

"For you to wear at the first feast, not all of them.  What's the point of
wearing masks if everyone knows who you are?"

Landis frowned.  "What sort of gathering is this?"

"The secret kind but if Roberto is now inviting the Tallyman's slaves, I'm
not sure if I will attend.  Like any Freeman, I have no desire to wear an
iron collar. "

"Master Jasper is not a spy and he would never betray you two."

Rolf took a step towards the smaller pair but Davin waved his goon off.
The banker's son squinted at Niles, searching for something his eyes could
not see. "All who attend; or us in particular?"  He asked suspiciously.

"Uhm... anyone Roberto claims as a friend."

"That is not what I asked, Niles Ray.  That is your full name, no?"

Landis sidestepped away from the blond youth.  Niles Ray?  Since when did
the Tallyman's slaves allowed to bear a freeborn's surname and why one so
common among Sun Elves?  It was becoming apparent that Niles was in the
possession of a treasure trove of secrets.

"Tell me, Niles Ray, does Roberto count you among one of his dear friends?"

"I... I do," he stuttered as he shifted his weight about nervously.

"I wouldn't run off lad.  For if you are what I think you are, then you
know what we are."

Out of desperation Niles look to Landis for help but the bard only offered
a pair of empty hands and a shrug.  You made this mess whoever you are so
don't think I'm going to save you.

	Davin shifted his gaze from the terrified apprentice onto the bard,
both he and Rolf now wearing predatory grins.  "Why thank you Master Niles.
That's all we needed to know.  As for you, Master Landis, I think we need
to talk.  Don't worry we won't harm you."

	"Uhm... I think I'll stay where I am."  Landis didn't know what
Davin wanted with him but he bet it would not benefit him much.

	"I see.  You're scared of us though you have no reason to be.  It
might seem you and I have nothing in common but I believe otherwise."

	Landis stepped forward one step, his foot moving with a will of its
own.  It was the only step he was allowed.  Before his left foot touched
the straw covered floor Niles grabbed and pulled him behind him.  Landis
would have never guessed his skinny companion had such strength in
him. Where Niles had grabbed him his arm was throbbing.

"I will not let you have him."

	"You dare stand oppose the will of the Lady?"

	"My place in this tale might be insignificant but the path I walk
is of my choosing and none other."

	Rolf whispered into his friend's ear and Davin nodded.  "So be it,
Niles Ray, at least for now.  You might choose which paths you take but
unless you claim to be a god you cannot force your friend to walk with
you."

	The two turned away and headed for the door.  While Rolf unbarred
it, Davin look backed at the bard.  "If you wish to know the truth my dear
bard you will join us three Vards hence at this summer's Fool's Feast." He
blew Landis a kiss before they made their exit.



















Chapter Twelve: The Folly of Forgotten Treasures:





How could what was meant to be the best of all nights go so wrong?  Niles
did not need to look on the face of his beloved to know his enraptured
state.  He had known this meeting was doomed to happen.  He felt very much
the fool believing he could stake his claim on Landis' heart before any
other could.  It was his fault.  If he had not come, the tavern keeper
would not have tried to kick them out.  And if he had just kept his mouth
shut, then his rivals would never have noticed the bard.

	Feeling approaching tears welling in his eyes Niles left the inn
alone, if just to evade answering the questions he knew Landis would ask
him.  It was a long lonely walk and it was all the apprentice could do to
keep his composure until he found behind the alley door of his master's
shop.

	"I'm home," He whispered.  The words left a bitter taste in his
mouth.  Not the store, Rain Shelter, or any place within the valley would
ever feel like home to him.  Given his age he knew he shouldn't let his
homesickness get the better of him, not with where his path will take him.
He had never lived an easy life but why did it have to be so difficult, he
despaired.

	Wanting nothing more than to sleep through what little was left of
this night, he made his way upstairs trying his best to not make a sound.
Unfortunately the third to last step betrayed him, the warped wood let out
a loud squeak.  There Niles froze.

	"You might as well come all the way up, my apprentice."

	Looking up from the step, Niles fell backwards in fright when he
saw his master standing atop the stairs.  In that brief second before he
went crashing down everything went dark and just as quickly normal again to
find himself outside the bedroom door where their guest could be found.

	"What am I to do with you, Niles?  You are of little use to me as
you are now.  If you don't find a way to summon the courage that is your
birthright, you will live out this life and all those that follow more
tragic than before. "

	"Yes Master.  You're right master.  I beg you for your forgiveness
master." Niles mouthed but did not dare put voice to.

	"I'm sorry Niles.  That you are here without your dear one with you
can only mean all the worse for you."

	"It's far worse than you can imagine."  Niles went into great
detail over what happened at the Golden Roost, including his suspicions
concerning Davin and Rolf.

	"I wish I could speak such truths that would free you of your
worries, but unfortunately I cannot.  You might be a coward and this is not
the first time your loose tongue has gotten you into trouble but you are no
fool.  You're right.  Landis' thread is entwined with the pair, just as
yours is."

	"So what am I suppose to do?  Give up?"

	"You are not the sort to give up so easily, my dear Niles.  You
must accept, however, that there will always be others he will feel
stronger toward than you."

	"But..."

	Jasper raised a hand to silence to his apprentice.  "You can't all
your hopes that the past events that brought you two together will happen
again.  You can't burden Landis having such expectations of him, nor should
you unfairly burden yourself.

	"But..."

	"I will hear no further protests from you about this matter.  We
both should be more concerned for our guest than let our personal problems
get the better of us."

	Niles couldn't believe he had forgotten about Vorin.  Vorin's
safety and needs would always trump his own.  It was such a basic truth
that he held no resentment towards Vorin.  While he loved Landis, the
feelings the half elf stirred in him were of such power as to be
terrifying.  "You are right, my master.  I shouldn't have darkened this
house with my pettiness."

	"No, Niles.  Where your heart is concerned, nothing can be of
greater importance.  The only correction you need is for me to remind you
that there are others who already love you deeply, but you have always
known that."

	"Thank you master..."

	"Now, no more tears from you and for as long as Vorin remains under
our roof you will not refer to me as your master, for in truth you have
always been your own master."

	"Yes ma... Jasper."

	"Ah, to be young again.  No matter.  Will you now join me in
keeping watch over our guest?"

	"You will let me sit with you, Master... I mean Jasper."

	"Yes you may, if you promise to keep a tight hold of that tongue of
yours.  In fact it would be best if you not speak at all."

	Niles opened his mouth, but before he could reply it was covered by
his master's hand so he nodded silently as he followed Jasper into the
brightly lit bedchamber.

	The light was not among the more common sources, both magical and
mundane. The most common were the sun of day and the moons of night of
course.  Next were those emitted through burning, be it candles, wood,
coal, or those oils that could be extracted from both plants and animals.

 Last and least common were the lights that were emitted by the different
essences of the Land's magic, those of the empowering sage green sands of
the Ether of the Empire, the healing blue sands of the Mana of Arkland, the
Seeing stones of Suronia, the blue Ice rocks of the Northern Wastes, the
bright metallic bars of yellow Sun-gold and misty Moons-sliver of Elvendar,
the doom bring blackened bones of Immortalis, the rainbow opals of illusion
hidden in the sacred lands of the Fay.  There were also the gray fluidic
enchanted iron of the dwarves of Iron Mount, obsidian black Mother Shards,
flecks of the ivory Father bone, the orange crystallized fruit which only
the Tree of Amber bore, and its darker twin, the violet demonic pus like
sap of the tainted miasma that seeps out of the deep roots of the ever
rotting World Tree. Last and greatest of all was of the lost sacred diamond
sands once welded by the near forgotten people of the Mountain Elves.
Regardless of source, all such elements of power were equally capable of
good and evil.

Such was the case in Weir Valley. In Rain Shelter and the barony in whole,
the sole source of enchantment lied in the emerald glowing mists and waters
of the Ether.  In the bedchamber where Vorin slept the light that filled
the room did not come from crystal blubs, nor was it green.  Instead over a
dozen gold rune covered candlesticks, azure the candles atop them made up
concentrated waxy Mana.

Niles jaw dropped, his flesh a tingle.  Though he had only taken a few
steps into the room, he could feel his life thread thicken with increased
strength. "How?"

	  "How did I obtain such candles?  It was not as hard as you might
think it would be.  As you know the Baron and I are on very good terms so
all I had to do was ask him for a few dozen and he readily gave them."

	"I don't understand."

	"There is no need for you to understand.  That we had need of them
is the only explanation you require."

	"I agree."

	"Vorin is waking. Now not another word from you."

	With great speed and remarkable silence Jasper took up his spot
beside the bed.  Niles, ever clumsy almost tripped on his shoelaces as he
brought a stool to the opposite side.

	Vorin's eyes popped open his eyes darting at both men, for the
sedating effect of the numb root tea was quick to act and quick to wear off
once the drug had run its course.

	"There, there Vorin, you're safe... or I should say safer than you
have been in many years."

	Vorin drew in a deep breath to calm himself. Jasper and eventually
Niles placed comforting hands on him.  "Bad dreams?"

	Jasper gave his apprentice a hard stare to make sure he remained
silent.  When he looked down at Vorin his expression had softened "More
than understandable.  Your path has been hard and will rise ever steeper in
the Vards that are to follow."

	"I do not fear what the future might bring for I have long known
why I was born and what the Lady expects of me.  Come next spring I will
reach the end of my path for good or ill."

	"You can't give up like that!"  Niles shouted.  How could Vorin of
all the Land had given life to believe that those he was dear to would
abandon him as the Lady would?  Must to his surprise his master was smiling
at him.

	"My apprentice is right.  The Lady might be a cruel mistress to
serve but given the quest she has tasked you I will choose not to join you
in your despair."

	"There is no despair entwined with the thread of my soul, nor will
there ever be.  Still, you both cannot blame me for wishing otherwise."

	"No wonder you're such a shrew.  You want to despise us but you
can't, can you?  All too willingly you have drank the bitter lies of that
thrice damned druid and eaten what moldy crumbs of one of many paths that
you might take.

	"If I possessed the power to divert you from the Lady's path you
would have lived without knowing a day of suffering."

	"No, Master Jasper.  Even if you could have done so you wouldn't
have.  When I first came to this valley I was but a lump of iron without
shape or purpose.  In the years that have passed I have seen and learned
much, nothing of greater importance than the suffering of the innocent.

	"If you had taken me off the path the Lady set me down would I have
become who I am now?  Would I be willing to risk the thread of my very soul
to try to save the Land from the coming Reckoning?  It does not matter that
I like you lack the power to prevent the horrors are to come.

You both are right.  My path will not end before Thaw of this year's
spring.  The time will come when the road the Lady prepared for me will
come to an end and I will have to make a terrible choice.  Will Morta end
my part in this tale with the same of her shears or will I beseech Nona to
continue spinning the silken thread of fate so I might venture away from
all paths to act freely against will of the gods, regardless of the
crushing burden it will place on me?

"If I had lived an easy life you both know the choice I would make.  While
the suffering of the people has been so hard to endure, such heavy blows
have turned the lump iron I once was into a sword wish to become.

"The only pain I wish not to endure is that by venturing off my path to
walk into the wilderness of the unforeseen will be taken as betrayal."

"You must not think so dear Vorin.  It takes unknown courage to leave all
paths.  If you do as you intend, every great power in the Land will see you
as their most threatening enemy for you will become a force that not even
the gods will be able to control.  So that all who love you are not caught
up in the war that is to come, you have no choice but venture into an
unforeseen wilderness.  There no king, Emperor, Seers, Oracle, or even god
will not be able seek vengeance against those who choose to follow you into
the unknown."

"But not all will choose to follow after me.  There will be those who would
rather sacrifice their soul to whatever power they believe will bring me
back to them.  That I will have no choice but to seek their love because
they love me so dearly is a bitter task I have no longing for."

Niles let out a snort.  While Vorin was far nobler than those who gave him
life, there was no need to speak of it as such a great sacrifice.  The half
elf was not alone in the Land who felt as he did and none of those who
truly love him would betray that love.  The Baron certainly wouldn't, nor
did he believe would his master.  He at least would remain ever loyal no
matter where Vorin's feet led him.  "I will never abandon you Vorin, this I
swear with my very soul."

Looking away from Jasper, he saw the sincerer tears running streaming from
the blond youth's eyes.  "I know you won't, not of your own free will.  But
just as I should not dwell on the terrible things that might happen neither
should you.  I know of you Drago Nightstone; who you once where and what
you aspire to become in this life.

"The Seers believe that time moves in circles much like a spinning wheel.
Their gift of foresight is based on the idea that events of the past and
those of the future are one and the same and therefore very predictable.
Saint Gregory preached that his people's future can ever be found higher up
the mountain of his people's rising faith in him.  The Darkling followers
of Vor live out their reckless lives denying both the truth of the wheel
and the mountain.  They hold that all of time, past present and future is
nothing more than a flat empty plain where one rises and falls of their own
free will only for as long as they live, for when they die they believe
that history will once again be flat and empty."

"And the Elves?"  Niles asked.

"Ah the Elves... they believe all three is true.  Like the followers of
Vor, they hold that only the individual can decided his future, but like
the Seers they know that for every golden age there will be a terrible
fall.  Such was the case before man reached the shores of Mir and it
remained true even after.  Still, while they believe no living thing can
act only for the better good of their people, they cling to the hope that
events both great and terrible will raise them and the children of Saint
Gregory closer to an eternal age of peace and plenty... at least that is
what I have been taught by, as Master Jasper put it, that thrice damned
Druid."

"Your pardon Vorin.  I did not mean to speak ill of your teacher but I must
still warn you to not take all he claims as absolute truths.  Ezekiel and
his kind are idealists by nature which leads them to ignore the darker
history of their past."

"I know, Jasper.  I have more than one teacher.  There's the Lord Baron for
one.  Like you, he looks upon the past through pessimistic lens.  You and
the baron share the same dark history, suffering near mortal wounds because
both elves and men have never seen your kind for what you really are."

"Not all the children of men and elves, my dear Vorin.  You might be the
only one who knows the true history of my people but perhaps it will only
take the actions of one such as yourself to see an end to our
suffering. That is what was promise made to us so long ago."

Vorin chuckled.  "And you tell me I should not worry what the future might
bring.  How can I not worry when you and your kind have placed you people's
continual survival on my shoulders?"

"I did not mean to my dear. That you are with us now, that we are here now,
fulfills all that was promised to us by one greater than all others."

"And you say he has nothing to worry about.  I'm near frantic because
Landis hates me."

"Young Niles... he does not hate you.  He just doesn't remember you as well
as you remember him.  Whether or not his thread will become entwine with
yours again only you can decided."

"But I've already decided.  I still love him as I always have."

"Do you?  Can you swear by the thread of your soul that there never have
been those just as dear to you?  Have there not been those you've loved
dare I say more than you ever loved your Landis?"

"He was all that was left to me, not once but twice."

"I know my apprentice.  I wish I could promise you that this time things
will be different, but I can't."

Vorin was the next to speak.  "Master Niles...you know better than most
what immediate future has in store for me and so does Lord Regis.  If you
can you should go to him.  You seem to be walking a similar path as his."

"Master?"

"Twenty days hence.  From what you have told me I think you will find this
season's Fool's Feast quite more interesting than the previous ones.  Now
go and rest my apprentice.  For the next three days you will need your
strength and all the skills I have taught you if you are to make a proper
costume for yourself."

"You will let me design my own clothes?"

"Just this one time. After all you didn't do too bad a job with your first
coat."

"Coat!"  Niles slapped a palm over his mouth, dashing back downstairs and
out the backdoor.  How could he have left the coat he was so proud of
buried under Master Halcyon's garbage?

Twice on the way he tripped on an uneven cobblestone, no worse the wear.
Though his skinny frame suggested fragility he had not managed to survive
years as one of the Tallyman's personal slaves because he was weak.

On reaching the proper street, he darted into the alley believing he would
arrive before the trash wagon's driver.  When he saw the spot behind the
townhouse empty, he let out a thunderous wail causing shards of broken
glass raining from the sky.

Before he could recover his breath a dark mist surrounded him and just as
quickly dissipated, where he found not in the alley but back within the
safe walls of his master's workshop painfully in the steel vice like grip
of the Tailor.

"What have you done?"  There was no kindness or love in Jasper's voice,
only the cold emotionless tone of approaching death.

"I... I lost my coat."

"You also seemed to have lost all your wits.  If I had not come as fast as
I did you would have put all of us at such risk that we would have no
choice but to reveal ourselves to these superstitious fools."

"I... I lost my coat."

"You could have always made another one."

"I..."  Feeling something familiar running down his face, Niles touched a
burning cheek and showed Jasper the gold ichors that was now staining his
fingers.  "The coat has my blood on it."

Jasper flung his apprentice across the workshop, Niles body colliding among
the racks of fabric where he collapsed.  Oh there would be hell to pay but
Jasper still possessed enough sense to know he would be the one who would
pay the price.  On the stairs that led down into the backroom was his half
naked, bandaged, and now enraged patient.

"How dare you harm him Drago Nightstone?"

Hearing the tense fury in Vorin's voice, Jasper's rage and strength
abandoned him; his body joining Niles on the hard workshop floor.  "Forgive
me Vorin.  I never..."

"You never what... never meant to harm your brother or never wanted me to
see what I have just witnessed."

"Neither Master Vorin.  I never wanted to give you just cause to hate or
fear Master Jerome."

      	"How can you expect me not to when I know who you and Jerome once
were?"

	"That might be true in my case but you have no just reason to
believe Jerome is still the man he once was...  his father, yes, but not
him."

	"I wish your words would free me of all doubts I have but I do not
think any promising words can, not after this."

	"That isn't fair, Vorin.  I know all too well what Ezekiel has told
you about all of us and though most of it is true, it is only his truth.
It doesn't have to be yours."

	"Once again, I wish I could believe that Master Jasper.  But if
much of the monster you once were remains within you, how can you claim the
same will not prove true for Jerome."

	"Because he isn't.  I and Niles might remember out pasts all too
well but you and Jerome never have."

	  "And I continue to pray to the Lady he never does."

	"But he will, Vorin, just as one day you will remember who you once
were and one day become."

	"Not from you I won't and I forbid you from ever telling Jerome
anything."

	Jasper could not hold back a snickering chuckle.  "You should not
fear that I will do so.  That special honor is to be yours alone, as the
Lady has demanded."

	"Do not mock about such things with me, Nightstone.  Be it the
father or the son I tell, the choice I must make will forever haunt me."

	"As I`ve said before, the: Lady did not show you any kindness by
leaving the choice to you.  But she did, putting on you the burden of
having to witness all the repercussions of your choice those both good and
ill."

	"So you would have me pick Jerome, regardless of what such a choice
will do to him."

	"I don't know and neither do you.  What we both know however is
what will happen if you choose his father."

	"But should one not keep your friends close and your enemies
closer?"

	"If you feel certain that doing so will allow you to protect all
who are dear to you.  But think on this first... would it really be best
for the Land and all who dwell on it for you to choose to empower an evil
we all know too well or one who only has the potential to become even more
corrupt."

	"If I pick Jerome I will not be able to control him."

	"Only through force you won't.  Look at it this way, who do you
think you will be able to influence more, a soulless man who only sees you
as a means to an end, or one who would love you if you would only let him."

	"I have thought on all you have said so far but none of your words
lessen the love I have for the Baron nor can mere logic deny the one with
just as strong claim on me."

	"Jasper dropped and shook his head.  So Vorin already knew or at
least suspected who the other one was.  That should not have been much of a
surprise.  But who would be the one and when will he make his claim?  Would
it be before or after Vorin made his choice between father and son?  Would
it make any difference either way?  It wouldn't.  The choice might not come
until Vorin reached the end of the Lady's path but would the goddess risk
Vorin making no choice, let alone any choice other than the son.

Vorin's torment was pointless.  The half elf had known since the beginning
that Jerome was the only choice he could make that would not doom their
world. That didn't mean he was all that happy about it.  Go get your
things, Niles.  I do not see either of us returning here very soon.

Niles gave Jasper a wary look and nodded before bounding up the stairs.  He
didn't own much, but what he did have were precious to him.  Besides a few
pair of trousers, tunic's, and a riding boot, he also owned a collection of
miniature stone dragons, each of different colored granite, a bakers dozens
in all.  These he put into the pouch where he kept most of his coins.

By the time he had returned downstairs Vorin was standing within the alley
with no sign of Jasper.

"Come,"

Doing as he was asked, the tailor's apprentice followed Vorin out beyond
the western gate and towards the trash heaps where Old Cess dwelled.  There
was the issue of the missing coat that needed taking care of.




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