Covey Balm

BEWARE, ALL YE WHO ENTER HERE! Fluff ahead.

This piece happens soon after the party purchases the manor in Sedona and after Galahad has officially joined the group as Rhen's champion (so the assassin thief quest is already completed). It happens before/during most of the in-game manor conversations we see between the characters. You'll see, it should be pretty obvious. Enjoy! (Or suffer from the excessive sweetness, whichever!)

Her first mistake was letting Galahad accompany the party in the first place. After all, she didn't really need anything from the king's treasury. Her only excuse was that she tended to be impulsive, and somebody should have stopped her. Also, she had thought she'd seen Te'ijal nod at her. So either she was crazy, or Te'ijal was crazy.

Her second mistake was asking the paladin to train with her in the practice yard. She'd had to take down quite few orcs before he would accept her as a capable opponent, and this should have been a warning to her, but no. She had been stubborn, and now she was paying for it.

Her third mistake was— well— well—

She really, really hadn't meant to hurt the paladin— but he was so— arrogant! He'd gone on and on about— protecting her from who knew what, and— how she should pay more attention when sparring— and not show off so much—

And she guessed she'd gotten a little carried away, or a lot, because now Galahad was on the ground hollering for a healer, and she was frantically trying to wrap his bleeding leg with a cloth the yardmaster had handed her, but she had never been very good at this—

"Please, maiden! Get a healer!" Galahad yelled again, but Dameon was out buying supplies with Lars, and she couldn't carry the paladin, not in all his armor—

"Galahad, please be calm—" she tried to say soothingly, like Dameon would, but she didn't have his quiet composure, she couldn't even soothe herself—

"I require medical attention!"

"I know, I'm trying—"

"What is going on over here?" snapped a voice from somewhere behind her, and then, before Rhen could look to see who it was, another, milder voice was saying—

"Rhen, what happened?"

It was Lars and Dameon— the latter was shoving the packages he was carrying into Lars' hands, and then running toward her, and she felt relieved and very, very embarrassed—

"Er— I—" she tried to explain, and Lars interrupted—

"You wounded him, didn't you?"

"I— not on purpose!"

Dameon knelt beside her "It's okay, Rhen," he said in that absurdly patient voice she was growing to depend on. "We can fix this."

"Sun Priest!" Galahad said, seizing Dameon's hands. "I beg your assistance, though I am not worthy—"

"Don't worry, Sir Galahad," Dameon said soothingly, pulling his hands back, taking the cloth from Rhen. "You are going to be fine."

"Thank you—" Galahad grunted, while Dameon folded the cloth and wrapped it expertly around the paladin's wound, and Rhen wondered— why couldn't she ever get that knot right?

"I need to clean this before I can do any healing," Dameon was saying. "We'll have to carry him back to the manor. Rhen, can you—"

"He's too heavy," Rhen said miserably. "I can't lift him."

Dameon looked at her with a confused little frown, and Lars snorted, "You can both carry him."

She felt her face turn red, and managed a somewhat dignified, "Oh."

Dameon's fingers brushed her arm and he smiled reassuringly. "Can you get his legs?"

Rhen nodded and moved to lift Galahad's knees while Dameon lifted his torso.

"Careful, please—" Galahad gasped.

"Sorry," Rhen mumbled— when it came to wounds, she was entirely and perfectly useless. She was probably going to end up making it worse. Lars should be helping with this, he was better at it—

Dameon glanced at her and then down at Galahad. "You're doing fine," he said, and Rhen wasn't sure if he was talking to Galahad or to her, but Galahad looked less anxious and she felt less flustered.

Lars led the way to the manor, shouting "Out of the way!" at anyone who even looked towards them, and snapping directions at Dameon like, "Left! Left! There's a gate," and, "Step up! Don't you remember the stair?"

Elini and Te'ijal were standing in the hallway inside, and Rhen could just barely see their gaping faces over Dameon's shoulder.

"What happened?" Te'ijal asked, stepping around Elini to hover over Galahad—

"Stay away from me, dark creature!" Galahad yelled, twisting violently and almost kicking Rhen in the face.

"You're bleeding!" Te'ijal said, ignoring the knight's protests. "You smell intoxicating—"

"Not now, Te'ijal," Dameon interrupted, stepping farther into the manor and moving so that he was between the vampress and the paladin— which put Rhen against the far wall. "I need to clean his wound—"

"Why don't you come and get water with me?" Elini suggested, gingerly taking Te'ijal's arm to lead her towards the door.

To everyone's relief, but most especially to Galahad's, Te'ijal followed Elini, and turned back only long enough to say, "Don't let him bleed out, humans. His heartbeat is like a frightened rabbit's."

Lars rolled his eyes. "Yeah, we won't," he yelled after them. Then, looking at Dameon, "I guess I can get rags. Try not to run into the door frame, Sun Priest."

Dameon sighed and said to the sorcerer's retreating back, "Of course, Lars."

"Vile, wicked woman—" Galahad was muttering. "Horrid, unfeeling—"

Rhen thought she saw Dameon flash her a half-smile, but then he was saying "Don't worry, Galahad, you're not going to bleed out," and he was craning his neck to look behind himself and stepping backwards down the hall towards the room designated as Galahad's.

He only almost hit his head on the door frame. They managed to maneuver through it, and then laid the paladin on the bed. Dameon started undoing the bandage and Rhen stood there uselessly for a minute, watching his nimble fingers working at the knot. He was frowning in concentration, and the sunlight streaming through the window glinted off his headband and blinded her for an eternity— or at least a very bewildering thirty seconds. Then he shifted and she could see again, and she noticed how the sun also made his face glow and scattered gold flecks through his eyes, and it was really sort of... lovely. A stray lock of hair fell into his face, and Rhen reached out to brush it away—

He looked up at her, lips parted in surprise, and she quickly drew her hand away again, embarrassed.

"Er... I was just trying to... help," she explained feebly.

He looked back down and nodded, and she thought his hands seemed more clumsy than just a moment before.

Galahad grunted. "Covey balm— would help—"

"Oh— okay," Rhen said. "Er... I can... get that." She tried not to run from the room but she basically did, and she shut the door behind her with a click that was nearly a bang. Her heart was beating fast— like a frightened rabbit's, Te'ijal would say— and her face felt hot, she just knew it was red, bright red—

Covey balm, she was supposed to find covey balm. She started down the hall and wondered when it had gotten so hot inside, and why it was so difficult to get a breath— Galahad hadn't been that heavy— and she couldn't stop seeing Dameon's surprised face, glowing in the light from the window—

"Good day, sword singer," Elini greeted, and Rhen whirled around to face her. "You look like you've been spending too much time in the sun," the summoner said with a wink, and then turned into Galahad's room carrying the bucket of water she'd gotten for Dameon—

Too much time in the sun, what was that supposed to mean? Unless...

She was definitely reading too much into this. Elini just meant she looked sunburned, and she probably did. And it wasn't time to think about this right now, she needed to get covey balm.

Where did they keep covey balm, anyway? On the Eastern Isle she'd always had some in her pack, but with Dameon there— well, she hadn't used a tin of covey balm in a while. Maybe— maybe there was some in Dameon's pack?

She slapped her forehead because she was so dense sometimes, and headed down the hall and turned in to Dameon's room.

He always kept everything so tidy. She didn't know how he kept up with it. Her own room was sometimes tidy, but usually— not so much. But his room— the bed was made and the covers were even turned down, like at the fancier inns they stopped at. His stuff was neatly placed on the shelves, and his laundry was folded nicely in a corner. She didn't mean to think it, but it occurred to her how weird it was that somebody who kept his room in such an orderly state could have a quarrel with his mother.

She found his pack on the lowest shelf and looked through it, trying not to pry too much but noticing that he kept mostly healing items in it. Cassia leaves, marsh tea, tinctura hypericum— and really, wasn't it strange how somebody so attentive to everyone else's injuries could be so hostile towards the woman who'd raised him?

She tried not to think about their fight; it wasn't any of her business. But it clearly bothered him. She remembered the last time they went to Aveyond. She had seen how his face changed when his mother came in sight— it hadn't glowed then— and she'd heard the bitterness in his voice when he asked how he could forgive the person who'd killed his father.

If someone had taken Rhen's Pa she would— she would end them, of course. There would be no one left to be angry at.

But— would it help, in the long run? Vengeance couldn't bring back the dead. Anger had no healing power. Anger, she guessed, was the one thing Dameon kept with himself that wasn't curative. And she couldn't help but think— as her fingers finally closed around a tin of covey balm— that a grudge like that must be a painful thing to carry around. She wished she knew a way to fix it.

She tried to put everything back neatly, and hurried back towards Galahad's room with the covey balm. But as she got there, the door swung open and Lars stepped out. He smirked at her, as usual, as he closed the door behind him. And then he frowned, which was different.

He cleared his throat. "I... I wanted to apologize for being so horrible to you."

Her first response, which she suppressed, was to laugh. Because it was funny to think of Lars Tenebor apologizing for anything. And her second response was to feel... the opposite of bitter. It was like some old weight she had forgotten she carried was gone. She guessed she forgave him— she'd lived, hadn't she? And it was over now, and it was all right to stop hanging on to it and to move forward.

So instead of laughing, she smiled, and said, "Thank you Lars," and she thought that if anger was a hurt, then forgiveness must be the balm.

Lars nodded and stepped around her to head towards the library, and she pushed Galahad's door open and entered the room.

Dameon had found a chair somewhere, and was sitting on it while pressing wet cloths to Galahad's wound. His hair had fallen into his face again, and one stubborn little piece stayed in his eyes even when he looked up at her. She wanted to brush it away, and as she came up by the chair her hand twitched at her side— but she stopped herself, and said, "Er— I brought the covey balm."

Dameon took it from her with a soft smile, which made her blush (or was it the other way around?), and Galahad said exuberantly, "Thank you, maiden! I will repay your kindness as soon as I am able."

She'd have liked to roll her eyes, but... it was her fault the paladin was injured in the first place, and if he was overbearing and pompous he was also gallant in his own stupid way. And anyway she couldn't stay irritated when Dameon was smiling and looking so peaceful, so instead she said, "That's all right, Galahad. I'm... sorry I got carried away earlier."

Galahad nodded self-importantly and said, "I should not have underestimated you. You are a skilled swordswoman, and it is an honor to defend you as your champion."

"Er—" she almost said whatever, but she saw Dameon glance up at her and she thought of his mother, and instead she said, "thank you, Galahad."

She didn't even choke on the words. They weren't even hard to say. They were almost nice, in a way—

The door banged against the wall suddenly and Te'ijal was by the bed before Rhen could move to stop her—

"Naughty, naughty lambchop," the vampress was saying, "getting yourself injured. You know, this wouldn't happen so easily if you would just let me bite you—"

"STAY AWAY FROM ME, DEMON SPAWN—" Galahad squealed, batting at her with his arms—

"Please be careful," Dameon stood up, trying to shield Galahad's wound from Te'ijal and from Galahad and being effortlessly thwarted by both of them— "I haven't finished yet—"

"Come here, duckling!"

"VILE SERPENT!"

"Darling rabbit!"

"Not now—" Dameon tried to interrupt, but they weren't listening and he had to dance around the chair to avoid being caught in the middle of them—

"LEAVE ME ALONE, CREATURE—"

"You look so tasty when you're disagreeable! Come now, let me bite you—"

"Te'ijal!" Rhen said sharply, surprising herself by sounding just like Ma. "You promised not to bite any of us!"

Te'ijal turned to face her and pouted. "But he provokes me!"

"You promised," Rhen repeated stubbornly. Then, "You can tease Galahad later. Why don't you come check out the junk shop with me?"

Dameon and Galahad looked very relieved at this idea, but Te'ijal just laughed. "You humans truly are amusing! You have so little time to live, and spend all of it running silly errands and avoiding excitement."

"Are you coming?" Rhen said, standing now at the door.

Te'ijal chuckled. "Very well, I suppose I can postpone my flirtations a little longer." She looked sharply at Galahad and the paladin turned very pink. "Heal up soon, duckling. I will be back."

And indeed, she was back very soon. Rhen tried to distract her with the new shipment of stuff that had arrived in the junk shop— the glass bottle, the book page with strange, ancient-looking writing that she thought maybe Te'ijal would recognize— but Te'ijal just pouted and complained that nothing like the soul pendant had come in.

Rhen tried to convince the vampress to shop for new weapons with her. Te'ijal shrugged and pointed at her rapier.

Rhen tried shopping for weapons anyway. Te'ijal spent the whole time terrorizing the shop owner.

Rhen suggested fighting orcs. Te'ijal yawned.

Rhen was out of ideas, and she was getting hungry, and besides, the sun was starting to set, so she at last consented to go back to the manor—

Te'ijal took off running before Rhen could begin to regret her decision, and Rhen walked the rest of the way alone.

She could smell the stew as she approached the door. She hadn't liked stew as a child; it was squishy and all the meat and vegetables were mixed in together instead of kept neatly separate. But lately she was always hungry and she ate everything, and liked everything— especially the things she didn't have to cook.

By the time she got to the dining room with her bowl of stew, Te'ijal was already chasing Galahad around the table. Apparently Galahad's leg was feeling much better. Rhen rolled her eyes as she pulled out a chair for herself. Those two never got tired of yelling at each other, it seemed, and it was weird, and disturbing, and sort of cute, in a way.

At least, it might be cute if she wasn't trying to eat!

Elini and Lars were also seated at the table, arguing over which term Galahad used most often to express his feelings for Te'ijal. Elini was betting on creature of the night, but Lars insisted it was serpent spawn, and together they were determined that there would be no rest in the manor until the matter had been settled.

"If it's serpent spawn, you owe me fifty gold!"

"Hmm. We shall see, Northerner."

"CEASE YOUR ABOMINABLE HUNTING, CREATURE OF THE NIGHT!"

Elini grinned. "One more for me."

Lars scowled. "Hmph!"

"Come here, Galahad!"

"NEVER, SERPENT SPAWN!"

"Ha!" Lars exulted, pounding the table and almost making Rhen spill her stew.

Elini frowned. "That makes it even again."

Rhen swallowed a potato. "I think he uses both terms about the same."

Lars rolled his eyes. "That's what Dameon said."

Rhen stuffed her mouth with bits of carrot and beef and tried not to blush. "Where is he, anyway?"

"It's impolite to talk with your mouth full," Elini scolded. Then, "He went to the drawing room, to read."

"ABOMINABLE CREATURE!" Galahad shrieked, and Elini smiled again.

"Doesn't count," Lars said firmly. Elini pouted.

Rhen swallowed down the rest of her stew and pushed her chair away from the table (and almost tripped Galahad, but he yelled and dodged around her— which was a remarkable feat for someone who insisted on wearing so much armor all the time). She hurried to the kitchen, dumped her dishes in the sink, and made her way back towards the drawing room.

She wanted to talk to Dameon. About... everything. The day had been so strange and long. She had a lot to think about and she knew he would listen to her. She hardly listened to herself when she got like this; she could be so darn obnoxious. But he listened, and seemed to understand her. He even remembered what she said. And that was nice.

Dameon was in the drawing room, like Elini had said, but he wasn't reading. His book was balanced precariously on the edge of his lap and he was slumped over on the arm of the couch, snoring softly. Rhen tried to squash the disappointment she felt rising up in her. He'd had a long day, healing Galahad and, most likely, making dinner, and he deserved some rest.

Still, how he could sleep, with Galahad and everyone yelling in the dining room, was a mystery to her.

But... he really looked very child-like. His solemnity was stripped from him and he was left with just a quiet sort of vulnerability. His hair was in his face and it moved with his breathing— or his snoring, very slow and soft.

She would talk to him tomorrow. She turned to leave the room—

"Stop—" he mumbled suddenly.

She looked back at him but he was still sleeping. "Dameon?"

"Not the carrots—"

She almost laughed except that he looked really, truly alarmed about the carrots; it was clearly a serious matter to him—

"It's a fish," he trilled, and knocked the book off his lap. It crashed onto the floor, and Rhen had to laugh, and laugh—

His eyes flew open and he leaped to his feet. "What—" he stammered blearily, and he blinked very rapidly, and stared at her, and turned pink. "What— are you laughing about?"

"You— just—" she cackled, and tried to calm herself, but he was so mortified, and— and— a fish?

"Dameon—" she managed. She touched his elbow to comfort him, and found that doing so calmed her laughter, until she could explain, in a very dignified voice, "You talk in your sleep."

He looked at the ground. "Oh."

"It's all right. You were tired," she soothed. "Come on, why don't you sit back down?" she continued, pulling him back to the couch. "Have you eaten?"

He gaped at her like he wasn't sure what language to reply in, and managed, "Yes— stew."

She sat him on the couch and plopped down beside him. "Good."

He was looking at her, and the vulnerability hadn't quite left his face yet, and maybe that's why she blurted, with no introduction or anything, "Thank you for helping me with Galahad today. He can be... difficult."

He looked away and tried to appear unaffected but she noticed that his ears were pink, and it took him a moment to reply. "It was nice of you to apologize to him. I don't know if I would have."

Now she tried to seem unaffected, but she could hear the squeak in her voice. "Well, it was just... Lars apologized to me earlier."

She was going to stop there, but Dameon smiled softly at her, and she continued. "I felt a lot better, and... freer. I don't know if that makes any sense, but— And I thought Galahad could maybe feel that way, too. And, Dameon—" she stopped. She couldn't bring up his mother now, while he was watching her so trustingly, and mildly. Tomorrow, when he was more rested, maybe, more prepared...

"What is it?" he urged quietly. She blinked and tried to smile. That one lock of hair was in his face again and she balled her hands into fists.

"I— I am still hungry," she said, and it wasn't a lie. "Would you like to— raid the kitchen for desserts?"

He started to laugh, but before the sound was quite out of his mouth they heard Galahad scream, even more loudly than usual. "ENOUGH OF THIS, SERPENT SPAWN! I AM GOING TO BED!"

They heard him tear down the hall, and slam his door, and then—

There was a loud crash, and Galahad yelled something unintelligible and angry—

Rhen looked at Dameon, and found that he was very, very red.

He cleared his throat. "I— guess I forgot to move that chair..."

Rhen laughed. "Come on," she said, pulling him to his feet, "we better go check that he's all right."

He let her help him up and then pulled his hands away— not before she noticed how they were shaking. "Yes," he said. "I suppose we should bring the covey balm."

"Yeah. I guess that would be good."

So they did, and it was lucky they thought of it before because they never would have gotten around Te'ijal to apply it otherwise, and Galahad would have been miserable all night, and would have complained about it probably for the next decade at least.

By the time they were finished helping the paladin, again, Rhen was asleep on her feet— everyone was, really. But Dameon let her lean on him and he walked her to her room, and when he looked down at her to whisper a timid, "Goodnight, Rhen," the lock of hair fell into his face again. And Rhen thought, honestly, Te'ijal was right, her life was too short for this, so she pushed his hair back and kissed his silly, pink ear.