Keibrayith Eless'hara

“You’re the last one for the day,” the guard stationed at the portal said as I stepped through it. My eyes flicked over to him from within the cowl of my cloak, quickly assessing him, then dismissing him. The city underfed and underpaid them for hours spent guarding the portal in this backwater village. He hardly looked up at me as he went to press the key crystal against the stone’s ruins, deactivating the portal for the night. The light behind me faded, and the portal became a simple stone arch again. 

“Name and business,” the guard’s partner asked on my left. He looked to be made of sterner stuff, his expression alert and expectant despite the hour. 

“Yuel Rogan, and I’m visiting a friend,” I lied, already knowing the drill. I don’t come often, but it was enough that I knew most of the guards on evening watch by sight on portal duty. To keep up with my lie, I asked, “Do you know if the inn still has vacancies?”

“We haven’t had many travelers stay this week,” the first guard grumbled as he turned his back to me to walk over to grab a pack on the ground nearby. “You should still be able to find a room if you choose, though why not save coin and board up with that friend you’re visiting?”

I didn’t bother answering, knowing my presence would quickly be forgotten. I intentionally dressed in drab clothes with little decoration on these visits to Nole. It was less bothersome to hide my appearance from the locals. After so many years of walking among these people, it no longer tweaked my pride to pretend that I was one of them. As long as I covered myself well, hiding everything from the rich color of my skin to the predatory look of my eyes, most people left me alone. Just as I liked.

Leaving the pair to their work, I took a familiar road out of the town square towards the outer rim of the slums of this village. It was always a piteous sight, leaving the better parts of the village for the poorhouses they call homes along the outer edge. A few buildings were close to falling apart, housing a vagrant or two, while another had a roof so patched that I could hardly believe it could keep out the coming chill of winter. It always made me think how biased this human society was to their people. They would rather let each other starve or die a slow, miserable death than behave as if they all belonged to the same species. 

I passed a beggar, pausing only long enough to toss a coin into her tin when I saw she held a child under her cloak. The little girl was asleep, her body pressed against her mother to keep warm. “If you can’t find work here and have no home, use the silver to pass through the portal. Don’t hold yourself back for scraps,” I advised, without allowing a note of sympathy to slip over my tongue. I doubted she would take my advice, but her fate, and that of her child’s, was in her hands. 

Pulling my cowl more firmly over my head, I turned down the last street, coming to a stop just outside of a small, shabby-looking shed of a house. It was quiet and dark except for the light of a single candle. Seeing the dim glow through the window, I walked around to the back of the house to see a little boy around the age of eleven sitting by the open screen door. His brown hair fell to his chin, bangs falling to cover sightless blue eyes. He wore a light blue robe tied at the waist, sticking his legs out so his bare feet could rest in the dirt. Seeing him, I stopped, listening intently for any sound that would give away anyone else inside. 

“Is that you, nomad?” he asked softly, lifting his head from the doorframe. When I didn’t answer, he smiled, the expression far too knowing and gentle for a face so young. “Everyone else is asleep. It’s safe to come closer.”

Trusting his word, I did, moving to sit only a few feet away on the wooden platform where the family stored firewood for the winter months. “How have you been, Eidke?” I asked, my eyes moving to the now empty garden and the weeds that were slowly taking over despite the end of the season. 

“I’ve been well,” Eidke answered, shifting to a more comfortable position. “I was wondering if you would show up anymore, but I thought I might stay up to wait just in case.”

Frowning, I turned my attention back to him. “Why would you think that? You know why I come to Nole.” Why else would I waste my time and come to this hole-in-the-wall village? It is not like I come for pleasure or work. The silence he gave me in return made me uneasy. “Speak, Eidke. What do you mean? Why would I not come anymore?”

Eidke shifted again, his brow furrowing. “Rue isn’t here anymore,” he answered. 

My hands tightened on the edges of the boards underneath me, the wood splintering. “What?!” I hissed. 

“A woman came by nearly a week ago now and offered him an apprenticeship. It wasn’t something he could reject.” Eidke’s voice was even and calm despite how upset I felt. In the years I had been coming here to check on his brother, I had never seen the boy flustered. I couldn’t be sure if it was the tragedy of losing his sight at such a young age, the hardships his family faced, or being a reincarnated soul, but he had grown up far beyond his few years. 

“Where did she take him? Who is she?” I demanded, keeping my voice low so I wouldn’t wake anyone else in the house. 

“Aleah said they took the road heading out of town, to the east. We haven’t received word yet if they reached Giath yet. Check the post tomorrow. We’re expecting a letter from his master when they arrive.”

 I growled, barring my teeth at the night in frustration at the sudden course of events, but I would take him up on the suggestion and check the post. “And her name?” I demanded again. 

“She claimed her name was Esra Greyborn, a mercenary for the Silver Arrow Guild,” Eidke answered and I snorted.

 If she’s a guild member, it should be easy enough to find information on her. I rose to my feet, finished with the conversation for now. I almost made it around the corner of the house before I heard Eidke call to me. “Nomad?” I paused, glancing back. “If there is a letter, would you read it to me?”

“Of course,” I said, nodding my head in acknowledgment. No matter how frustrated I was, I would not steal away the only news of the child the family would receive. 

“Thank you, Nomad,” he whispered before blowing out the candle and slipping into the depths of the dark house. I was halfway down the street before the smallest smile touched my lips. The candle had been for me.

* * *

It had only been two hours since I read the letter to Eidke detailing how Rueln and his master had made it to Giath that morning. Of course, she let the boy run off on his own as soon as they got there. He wasn’t yet nine, and she let him wander off in a strange city on his own. I hadn’t even met the woman yet, and I already disapproved of her. She might have known what she was doing with a sword, but her choices involving children were questionable. They were delicate creatures, easily snapped and broken. Who knew what would happen if someone less than honorable found him? Searching the city, even with my compass to help guide me, wasn’t a simple task. 

“Tsk,” I hissed, wanting to sink my claws into someone. I was risking exposure as it was, but my heart would not rest until I found the boy and at least saw that he was safe. “This is ridiculous,” I seethed after going in circles for the third time. 

“It’s this way, isn’t it?” A man gestured to the alley I had passed earlier when I assumed it led to a street I had already searched.

I glanced at the two men, about to ignore them, when the second man answered, “Yes. We’ll need to hurry if we’re going to have a look around. I heard the Mori Clan are starting to pack up. They already closed the main entrance.”

Was that why I wasn’t finding anything? I wondered, following the pair. We came out on an entirely new street packed with nobles, wealthy merchants, and even the middle-class commoners who had got their hands on some silver. All were trying to bargain with a member of the Mori Clan. The dark-skinned, nomadic people had paid a visit to this city to sell their wares. I had never seen a greater clan of hoarders of historical treasure, but the humans seemed to like them well enough. It at least increased the chances of finding a relic so a human could experience recall, much like the Hall of Memory did for children. 

Glancing down, I found the arrow on my pendent pointing to my right and followed it once more. I wasn’t sure why the boy was here, but I guessed he was curious about recalling as many others of his race. I only managed a few dozen yards, pausing frequently to look around for the boy’s familiar face, when a loud crash caught my attention. A teenager fell to the ground with his load scattered all around him.

Beside me, a curvy woman in her early forties shoved the curtains aside, her hair askew and her face red with indignation as she stared at the teenager on the ground. “Thorton!” she screamed, her voice loud enough to make me cringe. “How many times do I have to tell you to be careful with the relics?!”

“It was a kid, Ama,” he called back before he rose to his feet and hurriedly picked up what he had lost. “Nothing’s broken.” As he moved, I caught sight of Rueln only a few feet away, sitting on his rump and rubbing at his head as if something had just hit him. I almost smiled in both relief at finally having found him and humor at the mess the boy had gotten himself into. 

“Well, hurry up then,” the Mori woman yelled at what I assumed was her son. “You’re Da is ready to go!”

“Aye! I’m hurrying. I’m hurrying!” He picked up the last of his things, running past me to a wagon where his father waited. 

I took a step back, feigning as if I held any interest in the relics displayed as I watched Rueln make a face at the teenager’s back and get up. I was about to turn away, planning to leave the boy to his own devices now that I knew he was unharmed, when I saw him pause with only one leg under him. He was looking at the ground, a little frown puckering at his lips as he reached for something. Shifting my gaze, I spied what looked like a decorative comb from a few hundred years ago, silver roses engraved along its handle. It was simple enough to me, but the boy had a… familiar expression that I had seen only once before. 

“Oh no,” I whispered, stiffening and glancing over at the wagon with Thorton and his father urging their horses forward at a quick trot. When I turned back to Rueln, the boy had gotten to his feet, only for his body to go completely limp and crash back down to the cobblestone road.