Chapter 20: Job

Night had just draped itself across the land as Yulia's head rested in Lesmythe's lap. Though surprised the half-elf remained still. Instead, she draped her cloak about the girl to stave off the night's chill. The Tiefling would be tired. An afternoon of picking herbs and chasing every bit of wildlife she could find was bound to take a toll.

"Eat," Alidorim said, presenting Lesmythe with a fish skewered on a stick. She hesitated but then quickly took the offered food. Since leaving the city the woman had been silent, focusing on whatever task he set before her. Every so often he'd catch her looking at him her mouth open as if to speak. Then she'd look away as if rethinking the idea. Olkith had been content to ignore it while they worked but sitting across the fire the awkward stares needed to be addressed.

"Something you want to ask?" Lesmythe flinched slightly, but not enough to wake Yulia. She shook her head, suddenly becoming much more interested in her meal. Even in the low light, he could see the pink tinge in her ears. "Speak."

Lesmythe winced rubbing at her slave crest. His command hadn't activated it, but she appeared to anticipate its effect at any given moment. Like a phantom pain. Swallowing she obeyed, "I w-was wondering, who-who are you?"

"That was it?" Alidorim thought. Not sure why, but he'd expected a more interesting question. Shrugging he answered, "I'm a Dragonborn Adventurer."

She blinked, her ears going a shade pinker. "Dragonborn!" she exclaimed in a high whisper, ever conscious of the girl in her lap. "The slave race of the dragons?" Alidorim cocked his head at her and nodded. Her expression had changed as if she were reevaluating a preconceived notion. When pressed she said in a shame-filled voice, "I-I'm sorry master. I-I had assumed you were a dragonkin."

Alidorim's temper flared at the word but kept it under control. Dragonkin or Half-dragons were the results of magically infusing dragons with humans. It was an abomination of the highest order and half-dragons were almost always in service to the evil chromatic dragons. Dragonborn were birthed naturally, though their species origin remained a mystery. Either from the blood of the sundered god Io, or spat forth from the mouth of Bahamut, Dragonborn was as natural a race as elves, dwarves, and humans.

Most half-dragons were slightly bigger than their non-dragon parent and displayed features of their dragon parent. These draconic features could be as subtle as serpentine slit pupils, or so prominent that the subject appeared like a Dragonborn with wings and tail. As such he couldn't blame a life-long slave to know the difference if she'd never met one.

"S-so you're really a Dragonborn?" Alidorim nodded tossing another log onto the fire. Through the sparks and smoke, he could see the woman staring at him with a new sense of curiosity and wonder. Her thoughts were interrupted by another bout of coughing. He'd hoped the medicine would've cured her ailment.

"Na! mazmyr, oizmyr! na!" The shudder of the half-elf's body must've startled Yulia enough to bring out the nightmares. If Alidorim ever expected to get a decent night's sleep they'd need more of the sleeping draft. Lesmythe panicked at the child's outburst, unsure what to do. Alidorim was already on his feet and scooping the girl into his arms. Holding her close he hushed her gently. "Mazmyr, oizmyr," she mumbled before falling back into a fitful sleep.

Alidorim retook his seat resigning himself to another long night. As he sat he noticed the half-elf looking at Yulia with a concerned gaze. "Mother and father," he answered her unasked question, "that's what she said."

She blinked several times before staring sadly into the flames. "So, then they're…"

"Dead, yes," Alidorim finished. Through the heat of the flames, he could see the light reflected in unshed tears. A cloud of empathy settled over the woman. "Another orphan," he thought. He shouldn't have been surprised. All slaves had parents at one point, but their partings were never gentle. Being half-elf meant at least one of them was human and as such Lesmythe would've been shunned by greater elf society. He wondered if they had viewed her the same way as the men in the tavern.

"That man called you a mongrel," the words caused her to look up sharply. As anticipated, the slur angered as much as shamed her. There was also a bit of hurt as if she hadn't expected it to come from him. "You are a half-breed, aren't you?"

"My mother was human," she confirmed, her voice tight.

"Then your father was an elf," he said, "Ergo, a half-breed." Lesmythe's ears went pink again and she glared into the fire. Alidorim continued, "A bit of advice. Never forget what you are. The world won't." Lesmythe blinked once before meeting his gaze. There were tears, but the heat had already begun to evaporate them. "Own it and rob it of its power."

Lesmythe shot to her feet, fist clenched and staring daggers at the warrior. "And what do you know of it?" she snapped. Her anger was almost palpable over the scent of wood ashes. Almost immediately she regretted the words. Eyes going wide she covered her mouth. She apologized, prostrating herself before him.

Sighing, Olkith gestured for her to sit up. The outburst had been expected. He'd baited her and gotten the desired reaction. It was refreshing to see something other than hopeless pessimism. Alidorim's amber gaze burrowed into her. Despite trembling, the half-elf dared not look away. "Dragonborn, Dragonkin," he growled softly looking down at Yulia sleeping soundly in his arms, "Or Tieflings, it doesn't matter." Meeting her eyes, he said in a firm tone, "We're all mongrels or monsters to this world."

"This is some quality stuff," the apothecary said. He turned the various herbs over on his hands inspecting them with a trained eye. His earlier skepticism at their presence in his store evaporated the moment Alidorim set the bags of plants on the counter. "Stalk; unbroken. Leaves; still supple. Roots; virtually intact." He was practically salivating over the quality of the goods. "Where did you find these?"

"Woods outside city," Yulia said proudly pointing at the bushel of Pueraria, "I pick those!"

"You didn't know they grew wild," Alidorim commented glancing towards the window. The very same herbs flourished in a box, but they seemed more stunted than the ones they brought in.

The apothecary nodded, "Of course, but I've never seen wild ones plucked and preserved so perfectly." Staring at the group his tone dripped with accusation and doubt, "You're neither a herbalist nor pharmacist. How did you do it?"

Lesmythe felt annoyed at his disdain. She'd toiled an entire afternoon while being instructed by a five-year-old who knew more about herbs than she did. It gulled her that the man would question their ability to pull plants. Alidorim rested a hand on her shoulder. Its lightness surprised her more than the physical contact. Did he sense her frustration? Ever since their conversation the night before Lesmythe had felt more in tune with the Master, but she doubted he could read her that well…could he?

"You learn things on the road," he said in a flat emotionless tone, "How much?"

The apothecary shrugged at his answer before looking over the arrayed plants. Tapping his chin, he was mumbling some incoherent mathematics before finally saying, "For every pound, I'll pay five silver, and fifty copper." Alidorim agreed to the deal without even negotiating. Her master had haggled with the bald man over the cost of clothing and her weapons and with every merchant they dealt with since. Lesmythe wondered if this time they were getting a good price. Yulia was immensely pleased as the Dragonborn took the payment. The girl seemed to enjoy anything positive happening to her father. It made Lesmythe smile.

"A moment if you will, sir." They were just turning to leave when the apothecary came from behind his desk. Alidorim stepped forward in front of Yulia. He always did that; place himself between the Tiefling and others. It was almost a reflex. For his part, the apothecary didn't notice. He was staring at the copper plate bout the warrior's neck. "You are an Adventurer from the guild, yes?" Olkith nodded and the man looked relieved. "My useless assistant went to fetch some herbs a few days ago, but never returned."

Lesmythe looked on curiously as Alidorim arched an eyebrow at him. "You want us to find him?"

The Apothecary scoffed and shook his head, "Stars, no. The boy was a dunce and probably took the money meant to hire an escort and ran." Sighing he rubbed his temple for a moment as if trying to hold off a headache. "But I would like the herbs he was supposed to collect."

Lesmythe winced inwardly. That was rather cold, of the man. His assistant could very well be dead along with whoever he hired. If the herbs required him to employ an escort, then that meant the plants were rare and grew in an area far from the city. Most likely a dangerous area if he needed to engage adventurers. Then again, she lived in a world where life was cheap. Thirty silvers cheap as a matter of fact.

If Alidorim cared about the fate of the assistant, he didn't show it. "Where're these herbs?"

The apothecary smiled but he was wringing his hands and shuffling his feet as he answered. "Thundertree."