Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the creative property of Emily Rodda. Since this is set between the first and second series, note that there are very slight spoilers for The Cavern of Fear.
Autumn had finally faded in Deltora, having been succeeded by winter, and the now incumbent season had wasted no time making its presence known to the denizens of Del, blasting the city with a wave of arctic winds. The whirling breezes of the turbulent air were cold, despite the sun shining high overhead, and veered throughout Del's cobblestone roads as Jasmine strode by herself towards the markets.
Having ached for some simple exercise, the girl had taken it upon herself to leave the Palace grounds for a relaxing venture around town, while conveniently neglecting to mention her plans to Lief and the others. She had hoped that, by picking the markets over her predictably usual choice of the Palace Gardens, she would be able to give a certain irksome boy the slip.
Jasmine frowned softly to herself as she walked, knowing that, upon her return, she would receive a stern scolding from her king for going alone, despite repeated assurances about her combat abilities. However, be that as it may, Jasmine could hardly care less; it was not as if Lief did much besides draw her ire as of late, in any case.
A particularly cold draft proceeded to settle onto her shoulders, causing Jasmine to shiver slightly. Thank the heavens it has not yet begun to snow, she thought to herself as the chilly air whipped at the back of her head mercilessly. But perhaps I should have dressed more warmly for the occasion...
As it were, the heroine was still far from recognizable. In an effort to curtail attention, she had been forced to leave behind Filli and Kree, as well as don a large hooded black shroud over her usual attire; but even with the extra layer of warmth wrapped around her slim body and covering her long dark mane, the freezing bite of the outside air was becoming ever more unbearable.
Gritting her teeth, the girl held her chin down as she strolled on and willed herself to ignore the plight of the winter season. Her body was more resilient than most when it came to the cold, but even she had to admit the weather this year was unusually frigid. Rubbing her hands together for warmth, Jasmine pushed her legs onward as the familiar multi-colored market stalls soon became visible in the distance.
As she entered the area, she could more clearly distinguish the commercial aspects at Del's heart, which were seemingly unaffected by the damp weather. The market square was bustling with activity like always as vendors continued to shout and sell their overpriced wares unabashedly. Everywhere she turned, people moved to and fro hurriedly, wearing outfits similar to hers in an attempt to keep warm.
While Jasmine was thankful that she would be able to blend in without difficulty, another sharp draft suddenly whistled by, causing her to involuntarily shudder again from the bitter wind. Some hot tea would nice right about now, she mulled silently as she stepped through the rows of wooden stalls, showcasing a variety of knickknacks. Oh, why must these people insist on peddling useless trinkets instead?
Frowning in frustration as she passed by a toy merchant, Jasmine continued her search for a vendor of the hot beverage. Eventually, after dragging her frigid legs past countless stalls, the girl spotted another small brown stand from afar; this one in particular was tending to a large crowd of potential customers.
Behind the stall stood a tall bearded man, who wore a form-fitting white apron over his deep red shirt. A tea merchant! Jasmine thought triumphantly as her sharp emerald eyes caught sight of the small cups of steaming liquid being passed out. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her shroud more tightly around herself and approached the man cautiously, afraid that he might realize who she was if she came too close.
"One cup of tea, please," murmured Jasmine as she stood in front of the booth. She breathed a small sigh of relief as the man thankfully seemed not to recognize her; she possessed a newfound fame as a Deltoran hero, certainly, but that did not mean that she particularly enjoyed it.
The man nodded politely in reply before handing her a scalding hot cup and gesturing towards a small brown stack beside him. "Would you also care for a roll of bread, madam? Freshly baked."
The rumbling of her stomach quickly answered before she could herself, and Jasmine sheepishly took a warm loaf from the stack. "One silver coin," the merchant demanded, outstretching the palm of his hand in anticipation of payment.
As she dug in her pockets for the much needed coin, a soft tinkling sound off to the side resonated through Jasmine's sensitive hearing. She paused her movements, intrigued by the rather quiet noise that rang out above the constant chatter of conversation around her. Turning her head, she discovered the source: it was a greying man, a beggar to be exact, squatting under the straw roof of an abandoned shack. In his hands was a small wooden bowl, most likely filled with charitably-given coins.
As if to confirm her suspicions, the beggar wordlessly shook the bowl once more as he was overlooked by a passing, pompously-wealthy young woman, who stalked by with a distasteful click of her tongue.
A pang of guilt struck the pit of the girl's stomach as she recalled the time in her life when she would have acted as cold as the rude vixen. However, she had grown since then. No longer did she believe in the accusations of the poor being where they were only because of their apathy for honest work. No, she knew better now, having slowly learned the intricacies of Deltoran society, and discovered that, like herself, many were simply victims of circumstance.
Fate can be a cruel force, Jasmine sighed to herself. Although she did not know of the reasons surrounding his plight, she could not help but feel an extraordinary sense of empathy for the panhandler.
"Hello? Madam?" She immediately snapped out of her thoughts as a hand waved in front of her pondering face. "One silver coin, please," the merchant repeated, holding out his palm once more.
Glancing at the poor beggar, she hesitated for a moment. "On second thought, may I have one more cup of tea?" requested Jasmine while she fished out two silver coins and dropped them into the tea brewer's hand. As she had expected, he greedily accepted this overpayment without protest and hurriedly poured the girl another steaming cup before turning to tend to the next customer.
With cups of tea in hand and the loaf of bread tucked safely beneath her shroud, Jasmine lowered her hooded head and proceeded to move inconspicuously toward the lone beggar, who now sat silently. Another sharp pang struck her chest as she took in his features: his tattered cotton over-shirt and worn brown boots only emphasized his unfortunate situation, along with his dirty bed of dark hair that was streaked with grey strands.
Upon closer inspection, Jasmine absently noted that this man was different from the usual homeless panhandlers scattered around Del's streets. He appeared to be very well-built and not thin or starving like she had expected; his chest was broad and the arms that held the bowl were modestly muscular. And while he had seemed much older from afar, it became obvious that there was only a fair difference in age between them, which only served to increase the painful empathy that she felt.
As she approached, the beggar looked up at her curiously. His deep blue eyes subsequently widened for a split second upon seeing her, although Jasmine failed to notice it. Reaching into her pocket, the young girl took out the remainder of the money that she always carried in case of emergencies and tossed the mix of gold and silver currency into the bowl.
"Here," she said gently, "it is all I have with me at the moment."
The man was stunned for a second, his irises widening once more at the sight of the pile of coins that now rested in his bowl. Looking up at her, his eyes softened: "Adin bless you, madam," he muttered.
At his words, Jasmine smiled politely from under her hood. The girl wordlessly shifted to one side and carefully sat down next to the man on the cold stone road while keeping her cloak wrapped tightly around herself. She then turned and held out her extra cup of tea to him, which he took with a questioning look.
"Perhaps you would like to share this loaf of bread with me as well?" Jasmine offered, removing the still warm roll from within her shroud. "You look as though you could use some companionship." The beggar nodded in reply as he gratefully accepted the piece of bread that she ripped off.
"You are most kind."
Jasmine watched as he tore hungrily into the baked dough before taking a tender bite of her own piece. They ate quietly, enjoying the warm and fluffy bread as an awkward air settled betwixt them. "I am Dunstan, by the by," the man spoke without warning.
Receiving only a silent nod to acknowledge his attempt at conversation, he quickly finished his bread and continued: "I would ask for your name as well, but I assume you would rather me not, yes?" He motioned his hand up and down in reference to her cloak.
Jasmine, who was about to take a sip of her tea, tensed her shoulders and licked at her lips; if truth be told, she really would rather him not. The girl felt curiously at ease with the man, but she was also fairly certain that revealing her identity to this stranger would not be one of her better plans. After all, the eyes and ears of the Enemy were everywhere, and as far as she knew, this Dunstan person could very well be an Ol.
Finally, after several long moments, she shook her head. "I do not believe that is a good idea." When he nodded in reply, the young woman visibly relaxed.
"I can understand why anonymity would be important to you, Lady Jasmine," whispered Dunstan without missing a beat, "but rest assured, I bring you no harm."
At this, the girl was caught off-guard and looked at him in disbelief, while nearly spilling her tea. "Wha-? H-how did you know?" she stammered.
"Your eyes are very recognizable," the man answered simply with a shrug. "It is quite uncommon for the eyes of Del children to be green, and even more rare for them to be as bright green as yours." He brought his cup to his lips and took a small sip as he waited for Jasmine to break out of her initial shock.
She cursed softly at herself for not taking better precautions; indeed, it seemed her emerald eyes had become as iconic in symbolizing the female heroine as the sight of a lone black bird. Sighing in defeat, Jasmine proceeded to reach up and slowly lower the hood of her shroud. She tossed her head in the sunlight, allowing her mass of tangled black locks room to breathe and revealing her elfin face.
"I am truly sorry if you had not wanted your identity known, my Lady," Dunstan apologized politely, not noticing her wrinkle her nose slightly at the continued use of the noble title. "I am just humbled by your presence and—"
"It is fine," interrupted Jasmine quickly. "This was a poor disguise from the beginning."
"Still, as it is I cannot accept such a generous donation from you," said the beggar as he collected in his hand the numerous metal coins she had given him. He offered them back to the girl, who fought to keep herself from rolling her eyes at the gesture. This was another reason why she had wanted to keep her identity hidden: she was truly becoming tired of being upheld differently than everyone else.
"I insist," Jasmine countered, pushing his hand back gently. "I have no use for the coins, in any case." Despite the coins being her emergency stash, this was not entirely untrue. Living in the Palace, she honestly did not have an everyday need for money like others did and Adin knows he needed it more than she.
At her persistence, the man hesitated before bowing his head in gratitude and thanking her humbly once more. For a moment, neither said a word as the girl took a tentative sip from her cup of tea. Suddenly, after a minute or two, Dunstan again broke the heavy silence and spoke directly towards her: "Times have been difficult as of late, have they not?"
Jasmine in turn was surprised by this change in subject, but answered thoughtfully nonetheless: "The Shadow Lord has only recently been expelled from this land, so I suppose a difficult recovery is to be expected." Lief and Barda had once explained to her about the burdening issue of poverty that had become so widespread, further melting the once cold indifference she held for the people of Del.
It was a mystery that puzzled them all. After sixteen long years of tyranny, Deltora had finally been liberated from the Shadow Lord's oppressing rule, yet the land was still suffering from inexplicable drought and crop failures. And while those of the upper classes in Del, like that heartless woman before, managed to live comfortably, Jasmine knew the majority of the people had been pushed into crushing poverty.
Deltoran society was strange and still made little sense to the wild girl. Instead of surviving on what one could procure for themselves from the bountiful fruits of nature, entire lives could be built or ruined based on the possession of small, inedible pieces of metal. Indeed, from humans to Dread Gnomes, every form of civilized life seemed to partake in the frivolous exchange of currency.
Looking curiously at the beggar, she spoke again, albeit much more softly. "How long have you been without home, Dunstan?"
At this, the man's blue eyes darkened considerably and he quickly turned his head away. "A year or so ago, Grey Guards raided my home and burned it to the ground," he whispered as he stared up at the moon wistfully. "I escaped just barely, but my wife... they captured her. I have been surviving on my own ever since."
Upon hearing Dunstan's solemn explanation, Jasmine's eyes saddened and she immediately regretted her question, painfully recalling when her own parents were taken by the Grey Guards. "Do you know where they could have taken her?" she inquired gently.
"From what I understand: the Shadowlands... to become a slave with the others." The girl bit the bottom of her lip, having heard the exact answer which she feared.
"I have heard tales that His Majesty will venture over the borders to rescue the captives," Dunstan continued, a hopeful expression emerging on his scuffled face. "Pray tell, my Lady, do these rumors hold true?"
While she was not aware of any such plans, the mere mention of the young king was enough to elicit a strong reaction from her. "I-I would not know!" she half-shouted crudely, a faint tint of pink visible on her cheeks.
Dunstan glanced in mild surprise at her sudden outburst. "Truly? I would have thought His Majesty shared much with you."
At this, Jasmine's eyes narrowed, not liking the man's particular choice of words. "Oh, please," she spat in contempt. "Lief has more royal secrets than he has gold. Your guess about whether he has any plans is as good as mine."
Indeed, as of late, the young king had become much more reclusive, spending the majority of his time in the Palace Library with her father. He still spoke to her occasionally, but it was never anything more than a trivial conversation, and he always found a way to dance around her more invasive questions. Truthfully, it was beginning to look as if he were purposely excluding her from sensitive information that everyone else was entitled to.
Jasmine's face reddened more deeply as she thought of the injustice of it all. Did he believe she would be unable to keep such secrets? The thought of Lief not trusting her was a hurtful prospect, certainly, but more so than she was willing to admit anyway.
"Forgive me, my Lady," Dunstan spoke suddenly, breaking into her thoughts. "I did not mean to assume."
Resting her chin in the palm of her hand, she gazed up at the passing clouds absently and sighed. "No, you are right," Jasmine affirmed in a saddened tone. "Lief used to share everything with me... and Barda, but now—now there are things that he keeps from the both of us."
"Surely, His Majesty has his reasons."
She glanced at the beggar out the corner of her eye and frowned slightly as she brushed back a stray strand of hair. "That is his response as well," she muttered. "He claims to have them, yet not once has he ever elaborated on such reasons."
Dunstan's eyes softened at her words. "Perhaps he is merely trying to prevent any harm from coming to you, my Lady. Secrets can be dangerous, after all."
Jasmine raised an eyebrow at this notion and huffed indignantly. Lief? Keeping her safe? She inwardly laughed at so ridiculous an idea; if anything, it was the other way around, with him being the fragile head of state that she was duty-bound to protect. "I can look after myself," the girl said defiantly while folding her arms across her chest.
"Of that, I have no doubt." A sympathetic and knowing smile played on his lips, one which annoyed her greatly for some reason.
The girl pulled her knees closer to her chest and stared angrily down at her now empty cup as she sat under the shade of the roof. "Lief can be such a child sometimes," she continued to rant, more to herself than anything. "I will never understand him..."
"You are upset with His Majesty, that much is obvious," Dunstan observed duly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But pray, do not give up on him, madam; he will need all the companionship he can get."
Jasmine recoiled in disbelief at his words, able to feel the anger beginning to rise in the pit of her stomach. "How can you continue to defend him!?" she cried while she swung her head around to glare at the man, her long black curls flaring as if to reflect her disposition. "Have you forgotten that your wife is suffering as we speak, and still that oaf does nothing but hide away?"
Dunstan blinked without reply, clearly not expecting such a heated response from the relatively short girl. His silence prompted her to turn away in shame, regretting the words that had escaped from her mouth inexplicably. The guilt at implicating her king to one of his subjects began to settle uncomfortably, though she knew what she had said was not wrong.
At first, she had truly believed that Lief would have been a much better ruler comparatively to his predecessors; after all, the boy had possessed traits that his rather dimwitted forefathers had not: he was compulsive and let his heart rule his head. However, the figurative apple must not fall far from the tree seeing as Lief continued to allow the captives to suffer without so much as a word of promise. His Royal Highness was clearly not going to defend his people, so why in the name of Adin was this simple beggar defending him? Jasmine stared at him expectantly.
"I have faith in the king," the man finally said after carefully mulling over her words. At her confused expression, he continued: "What else is there left for me but faith?"
Was that it? She had to admit, it was admirable; even with all of Lief's shortcomings, the people still seemed to have unwavering loyalty to the king. And though she doubted Dunstan's faith would amount to anything any time soon, she had not the heart to say otherwise. She glanced sideways at him, her fiery demeanor returning as she took in his ragged features once more.
"We will bring her back," Jasmine declared with a firm nod of her head after several minutes of silence. "Your wife, and everyone else. I swear we will bring them home safe." She clenched her fists and stared at the worn cobble in front of her, her eyebrows scrunched together in defiance. It was a risk to make promises without certainty, but she felt that, on behalf of The Oaf, she owed it to the man.
At this, Dunstan gave a genuine smile: "I believe you, Lady Jasmine."
Soon afterwards, the sun began to set and as the last slivers of light faded over the horizon, the chill of the night blanketed the city in yet another wave of cold. In preparation for the coming dawn, Dunstan wrapped the shroud Jasmine had gifted him tightly around himself as he settled on the bitter floor of the abandoned shack.
Jasmine had bid him farewell some time ago, hurriedly heading home to escape the cold now that she was without a warm cloak. The girl was a wild character, much opposed to any woman he had ever seen before. That, in and of itself, demanded respect and he was grateful for the opportunity to have met one of Deltora's greatest heroes. As it were, he had no doubts about Jasmine's promise to him about bringing back his beloved wife, certain that the girl would do everything in her power to aid His Majesty when the time came.
For the first time in many, Dunstan slept soundly that night, knowing the future of Deltora did not seem as bleak as it used to. Indeed, the homeless beggar would wager every single coin Jasmine had generously given him on the rumors that held the city abuzz: their king was strong, but sooner or later, the queen he would almost certainly choose would be even stronger.