Doren POV
Doren was exhausted. The storm, his injuries, and the death of the survivor they had found all left him drained. It was all he could do to focus on their present as they continued onward the next evening, but Valla was pensive and quiet and the terrain they passed through was monotonous. He was a bit surprised at how hard the events of the day before had hit them both. Neither of them was any stranger to death or violence, and yet they were both deeply affected.
Part of it, for Doren anyway, was how sudden it all had been. They had had no idea that there was anyone else there when the storm hit, and afterward, there had been nothing they could really do to help once they found the person. Instead they had just been there to watch them slip away. Perhaps, if they had just been more vigilant before the storm, they could have helped them make it through the disaster. It was foolish to think this way, Doren chided himself. They had been very cautious – if they hadn’t Sensed anyone, it was because they were too well-cloaked. There was nothing else they could have done. Still, his heart ached.
The storm had ravaged the land, but the desert was so sparse there was little sign of it apart from the occasional piece of wreckage from the caravan carried leagues from the original site by the storm, some torn up dried out shrubs, and the ravines carved by the flash floods. His only real distraction from his thoughts was the monkey. As they walked, the little creature was strangely calm, his tiny hands grasping Doren’s collar as he rode on his shoulder. He was clearly comfortable with humans and had attached himself to Doren, alternating between clinging to his shoulder and rummaging through his hair as Doren walked. It was a mark of how shell-shocked they both were that Valla did not tease him for it.
As for Valla, the monkey was intrigued but rather more wary of her. At camp after another night of traveling, he sat about three paces away from her, staring intently as he gnawed on a piece of hard biscuit. Every time she moved slightly to adjust how she sat or lifted her hand to take a drink of water, his little black eyes would widen dramatically, but he did not run away. Doren watched the scene with amusement as he ate his own meal, chuckling outright when the little creature finally worked up the courage to step closer only to startle and move back two paces when Valla turned to look at it.
Valla smirked, but Doren fancied there was something slightly offended behind it. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I won’t take your food.”
He chittered indignantly, and Doren laughed outright. Valla turned her half-annoyed smirk to Doren.
“Really? Did you tell him to do that?”
Doren’s laughter stopped. It didn’t sound as though she had meant anything deeper by the question, but the idea that he would use his power to manipulate the monkey offended him. Coming from anyone else, he would have assumed they meant it with a darker implication, as an accusation of some forbidden magecraft. Many people thought aura-pushing was an abomination because of its potential to control people.
She seemed to recognize her mistake. Doren had been keeping his eyes on the ground as he worked through his knee-jerk reaction to her comment, but when he raised his gaze, he found her looking steadily at him, eyes compassionate but not condescending.
“I meant that he clearly likes you, and he’s obviously used to listening to people.”
“Right,” Doren answered, a bit sheepishly. It was obviously a trained animal, and it wasn’t exactly unusual for people to teach pets tricks.
“Even if that wasn’t what I meant,” she continued, “I have nothing against aura-pushing in principle. I’m well-versed enough in it to recognize when it is used, so there’s no reason for me to accuse you of anything unless you actually did it.”
At that, Doren couldn’t help but laugh. “Infallible then, are you?”
“Obviously.”
They fell into a companionable silence, some of the tension that had been building from the stress of the last two days easing. Doren had the sudden urge to ask her how she felt – about the dead merchant, about the storm, about everything. He wanted to understand why he felt so unsettled and was somehow certain that if he asked her about her own feelings, if they talked about it all, then he might feel more centered. But the words stuck in his throat.
It wasn’t a good idea to bond with her, he had to remind himself. There was a whole host of reasons why. First, he was a disgraced warrior roaming alone; of course, he was feeling isolated, and of course he would want to confide in his first traveling companion after so long alone. It was only to be expected, and it wasn’t a feeling he should trust. Second and third, she was a mysterious and powerful being with unclear motives and he had been hired to kill her.
In the end, the one who chose to speak was not him, but Valla.
“I think they were transporting textiles. Fine alpaca wool and dyed silks. There’s a lot of demand in the empire but this is one of the only routes.”
Doren just looked at her, unsure of what to say.
“If there had been anything that identified them, we could have used it to alert their trade company, or something.” She was staring at the horizon, eyes now dull. Doren opened his mouth to speak, but she kept going, as though just saying whatever thoughts came to her mind. “They had paid good money to secure this group with a cloaking mage.”
She looked at him, eyes focused and now somewhat apologetic. “Did you find anyone who looked like a mage?”
He nodded, the memory making him want to close his eyes as though that could expel the images from his mind. She nodded once.
“If they had been a bit slower, we could have helped them.” She was echoing his earlier thoughts, and there was something deliberate about how she spoke, how she held his gaze. “If we had been faster. If they hadn’t had a cloaking mage. If their mage had decided to put out a call for help when they sensed the storm rather than stay cloaked. If we hadn’t been cloaking ourselves.” She listed off the reasons, voice gentle but implacable, growing steadier as she finished the list.
Doren understood her point. None of those things could have been any different than they were. There was nothing they could have done. And he could see, as she spoke, that she was not just telling him, but also reminding herself.
It was quiet for a while. The monkey was now inching closer to Valla, determined but cautious. Doren watched him. It was a mistake to keep bonding with Valla. But still he spoke.
“The last time I failed to heal someone I was still in the Order.” The monkey raised a hand toward Valla’s sleeve, then hesitated. “I could have done it. But I was drained. It just… it just wasn’t enough.” The monkey finally grasped her sleeve in earnest, and tugged on it, burbling, insistent now that he had decided to ask her for attention. Valla stayed motionless; gaze focused on Doren.
“That’s not what happened this time. It was just too late. It was beyond me. I was exhausted, but even if I weren’t, I couldn’t have done it.” Valla nodded.
Doren felt some of his confusion and tension ease as he spoke. It changed nothing to say all this. But it helped, somehow, to speak and to be listened to.
“We need to give this guy a name,” Doren said absently as the monkey started to chatter impatiently at Valla. She smiled slightly.
“Blue?”
Doren widened his eyes in horror. “Blue? That’s the best you can think of?”
“Tiny?”
Doren scoffed. “Alright. I need to name him. You can stay out of it.”
Valla shook her head in mock despair, and the monkey shook his head, imitating her. She laughed outright at that, and the sound proved to be too much for the little guy, sending him scampering back to Doren.
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