A woman who was probably about ten years older than Dyasen opened the door, took one look at him, and scowled. “What do you want?” she demanded.

Dyasen blinked at the hostility. “I’m almost out of food, and I still have a ways to go. I want to restock.” He almost added that he was hoping for a ride, but decided not to when he saw the woman’s scowl deepening.

“It’s not my duty to ‘restock’ you,” she snapped. “Your lot never protect us out here, so we owe you nothing.”

“I’m not a soldier,” Dyasen clarified evenly, swallowing the choice words he thought this woman ought to hear. He wanted to say them in his head, but he no longer had that privilege either. “I’m just passing through.”

She took a long look at the sword on his back. “Not a soldier, eh?”

“Oh, this is just for security.” I am not any sort of threat, he thought in the break between sentences, backing the thought with energy. “A traveling merchant like me sometimes has to have a defense ready in case someone decides they ought not to pay for my wares.”

“Just like you’ve decided you ought not to pay for supplies?” The woman didn’t seem as guarded now, just put off.

He frowned. “I didn’t say that,” he protested. “I can pay. Whatever you think is fair.” Dammit, I could have presented this so much better, he thought. Then he froze for a long second, expecting some snarky reply, but the voice seemed to be actually sticking to its word.

“And you didn’t feel the need to mention this before because…?” the woman asked, crossing her arms and leaning on the door frame.

“I- look, I’ve had a long day.”

She raised an eyebrow dubiously. “It’s not even noon.”

“Yesterday was a long day.” Dyasen groaned, rubbing his head. I’m pitiful. I can’t even say what I mean. There’s no chance someone like me will make it without some help.

The woman regarded him a moment longer, then let out a long sigh. “Come in,” she told him, stepping back from the door. Turning into the house, she called, “Dear, can you start a fire and put some tea on? We have a visitor.”

“Of course! I’ll get it started,” a man’s voice called back.

The tea wasn’t really necessary, but Dyasen felt like he’d already talked enough. He silently stepped into the house, pulling off his boots and setting them by the door. The woman watched him silently, like she was waiting for something. He glanced at her, then realized. “Thanks,” he said quickly.

She gave him a slightly judgemental sigh and nodded. Motioning for him to follow, she led him into another room, where a fireplace was built into the wall. A man was watching a pot as it simmered above the flames, but he turned around when they entered, a warm smile on his face.

“Welcome!” he said to Dyasen. “Come here, have a seat.” He motioned to the cushions set up around the fireplace. “What should I call you?”

Dyasen somewhat hesitantly made his way forward and sat down on one of the cushions, crossing his legs in front of him. What should I be called? He sure as hell wasn’t giving anyone his real name, but he didn’t really have any good fake ones. “Hey, voice?” he thought quickly, grateful for once that his communication wasn’t limited by the speed his mouth could move. “What’s a good name I could pretend to go by?”

“Oh, so you only talk to me when-”

“Shush, I need a name.”

“Geligo? Mokius? Ralycora? Frejo-”

“Are you just spouting random combinations of syllables?”

“Yeah, isn’t that what a name is?”

“Lad? Are you alright?” the man asked, watching Dyasen with a look of concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine, sorry,” Dyasen answered quickly. “I’m Mokius. And you?”

“You can call me Tolmyn,” he answered. “And my wife is Ysana.”

“It’s nice to meet you both.” To the voice, he thought, “Thanks for the help.”

“You’re welcome. But you have to tell me your real name later. I’ve been wondering.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” Ysana said from behind him. She sounded like she’d gotten over her initial hostility. “What sort of supplies are you looking for?”

“No promises.” “Just any sort of food would be great,” Dyasen said out loud. “I’m going to more or less follow the river-”

“Come on, I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

“-so water isn’t a problem,” he finished, speaking over the voice and trying not to look outwardly irritated about it. “Talk later. Still busy.”

“Fine.”

“Are you sure?” Tolmyn asked. “That river doesn’t have the freshest water.”

“I’m used to it.” He paused. “And… would it be possible to get a ride? Only if you happen to be going to ZeSarys soon.”

Ysana sat down next to her husband. “We rarely travel all the way up there,” she told Dyasen. “But if you want, I can take you as far as FelSar. I was going to drive up there to make a few trades anyway.”

“That’d be fantastic.” The town of FelSar was a little more than halfway to ZeSarys. And Hexis is going on a mission there soon. If he waited in the town a few days -- and if nothing had changed -- he could probably join them the rest of the way back.

“Who’s Hexis?”

“That thought wasn’t for you, pal.” He then realized the addition of the word ‘pal’ made it sound needlessly snotty, but he couldn’t exactly think through his words before thinking them.

“Geez, my name’s not even-”

“Sorry. Shush. Sorry.” “When are you leaving?” he asked Ysana, realizing he’d been silent for a good few seconds.

“I was planning on leaving later this afternoon.”

“Perfect!” He grinned, relieved that this was going better and better. “Do you need help packing or anything?”

“It would be wonderful if you could help me load the cart,” she said.

“No problem.”

Dyasen spent the next few hours hauling around sacks of beats -- that’s what the plants turned out to be -- and loading them into the back of the cart. Tolmyn filled his pack with good traveling food, and Ysana promised him some beats when they arrived. They asked for surprisingly little in the way of payment; he supposed they’d warmed up to him and were now helping out of the goodness of their hearts. Funny, how that works.

He quickly followed it with, “That wasn’t for you either.”

“I guessed that,” the voice said grumpily.

Dyasen tied the last sack into place just as Ysana led a well-groomed horse from the shed next to the house. She hooked up the harness quickly, leaving the reins sitting in the seat of the cart, and gave the horse a focused look for a long moment before going to retrieve her own pack. Apparently, she was confident that the horse wouldn’t go anywhere without her. Does she have an ERA, or is the horse just well behaved? It didn’t really matter, as long as the end result was the same. But it sure looked like she’d used an ERA.

“Good luck,” Tolmyn called from the door to the house as Ysana and Dyasen climbed into the cart. The seat was wide enough for them both to ride comfortably.

“Thanks for all your help!” Dyasen responded.

"See you later, Dear," Ysana added. Turning forward, she gave the horse another focused look, and the horse started forward, pulling the cart with a lurch. Definitely an ERA. An interesting one, too.

Dyasen sighed contentedly, leaning back against the seat as they rolled out to the road. Damn, it feels good to sit back and ride somewhere.

“You don’t like walking?”

“Walking is fine, it’s just slow. And I’m stressed.” He pointedly added, “My head hurts from juggling conversations and being constantly distracted.”

“Oh. You’re distracted by all the things around you?”

“I’m distracted because a mysterious voice has somehow found its way into my head, and now it won’t leave me alone.” After a moment of silence, he paused. “Eh… are you actually an ‘it’, or…?”

“I’m a ‘they’,” the voice informed him.

“Ah. Sorry.” He paused. “But the point still stands.”

“You were the one who started talking to me in the middle of a conversation with someone else,” they said defensively.

“Yeah, well-” he paused, breathing out. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Is everything alright?” Ysana asked, noticing Dyasen’s sigh.

“I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You can make up for it by telling me your name.”

Dyasen gave the air ahead of him a flat look, wishing the voice could see it. “I don’t want to.”

“Fine, but I don’t want to stop asking you about it until you tell me.” They sounded smug about their response.

Dyasen held back a loud groan. “Go ahead and try. We’ll see whose patience runs out first.”

“Are you sure you want to say that? I can be very stubborn.”

“Try me.”

“Alright, what’s your name?”

He closed his eyes, resting his hands in his lap. What a lovely day. And so blissfully quiet, too.

At least the journey won’t take more than a few hours.