THIRTY-NINE
". . . then we can get another ship to Asturia. I know it seems like we're going out of our way, but it'll make it that much harder for anyone to figure out where we've gone."
"I don't understand why we can't just go straight to Palas."
Jindra and Folken were seated at a small booth in the back of the tavern, the dishes from their finished lunch had been pushed to one side of the table; the couple were in the midst of making their plans to leave Zaibach. Jindra had torn a piece of paper from one of her sketch pads and given it to Folken with a pencil so that he could take a few notes.
"Jin, we've been over this before . . . I just don't want to take any chances once we leave the city. If we go to -- say Basram first, then it will throw off our trail a bit." Folken replied with a slight bit of exasperation in his voice.
"You're talking about the sor -- the tower, aren't you? You think that they're going to come after us."
Folken nodded his head, "It's a possibility . . . he's not going to be too happy once he learns that I've gone." Jindra knew who Folken met by "he" -- Dornkirk. "I just don't want to put you in any danger, Jin. I think it'll be better if we don't go straight to Palas -- if we skip around a little." Folken gave her a reassuring smile, "I'm probably being overly cautious, but it wouldn't hurt to be one step ahead just in case." Jindra didn't look happy, but she nodded her head in agreement.
Tapping the pencil on his chin, Folken gave her a thoughtful look, "Well, if that's all settled . . . now comes the hard part -- paying for this little jaunt of ours."
As an apprentice of the sorcerer's tower, Folken was given room and board. He was also provided with basic clothing -- the standard robes that all students and sorcerers wore; as well as textbooks, writing paper and implements, and other basic supplies for his studies. More importantly however, he was also given a small monthly stipend to use on things that were not supplied by the tower. He knew that many of the other students used the money for what could be considered as less-than scholarly pursuits -- liquor, gambling and even women. While such things were generally frowned upon, they were tolerated as long as they were done discreetly and did not interfere with the individual's work. Folken knew of several students, and even full-fledged sorcerers, who kept women in the city for such purposes.
Folken, however, used his meager funds to purchase a couple of sets of plain, but well-made clothes that he could wear outside of the tower; he had learned quickly that first year in Zaibach how unwise it was to walk the streets of the city wearing his apprentice robes. Occasionally he indulged himself by purchasing a few books -- solely for pleasure reading; and one or two small gifts for Jindra. Although he wasn't well-off by any means, Folken had managed to save a tidy little sum that should cover their travel and, if they were very careful, perhaps one or two weeks at a modest inn. What still worried him, however, was what they were going to do after that. Bethanne Barrant's offer popped into his mind, but Folken was still reluctant to accept help from Jindra's family. Despite what the woman had said, he wasn't sure that she would be as willing to help them once Jindra's parents found out that their daughter had left Zaibach with him. I don't want count on her, but just in case . . . at least we'll have a back up if we need it.
He watched Jindra pull open her ever-present black bag. "Hopefully this will help a little." She lifted out a small leather bag. Reaching across the table, she placed it in front of him. It hit the wooden table with an audible clink.
Folken lifted up the bag, feeling its weight. "Gods, Jin -- how much is in here?"
She shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know -- I've been saving it for a while . . . do you think it will help?"
"I'd say so -- but where did you get all this?" He set the bag down and picked up the half-empty mug of ale next to him and took a sip.
Jindra shrugged her shoulders once more, "From my father." Folken almost choked. "Y-y-your . . . f-f-father?" he managed to sputter out. Jindra nodded at him, a concerned look on her face. "Are you alright? Do you need some water?" Folken shook his head and swallowed several times, trying to clear his throat. "J-J-Jin! Why would your father give you this kind of money?"
"He always gives me money. Whenever I want something, I just ask him for it." She gave him a puzzled look, "Where did you think I got my money from, Folken?"
"I-I-I don't know . . . I guess I never really thought about it. Surely you didn't ask him for all of this?"
Jindra shook her and tried to explain, "I get -- I guess you could call it an allowance -- every week . . . you know, pocket money -- for art supplies, books . . . whatever I want to spend it on. But I don't usually spend all of it. For the past year or so, I've been saving up the leftover money each week -- I have this big jar -- and I put all the spare change into it." She hesitated slightly, "It was supposed to be for my move to Palas -- to the university."
Folken knew how much Jindra had once wanted to attend the university in Palas -- when the two had first met, it had been her fondest wish. But since they had been together as a couple, she had barely even spoken of it -- Folken knew that it was because of him that she hadn't left before and it saddened him to think that her dream might never come true now.
Folken reached across the table and took Jindra's hand, "I know how much the university meant to you, Jin. I-I-I know that you gave up those plans for me -- but this is your money . . . for your dream . . ."
"I have a different dream now Folken." Jindra said gently. "A dream of spending the rest of my life with you -- and we are going to Palas after all -- so it's almost what I planned." She gave him a small smile, "Who knows, maybe I'll get my chance at the university yet . . . after we're settled . . ."
Folken nodded his head slightly, "We'll see . . ." After a few silent moments, he let go of her hand and picked up the pencil again. "Well my lady, you seem to have our financial worries covered for the moment . . . so, our next order of business is . . ." The couple continued with their plans as the busy lunch crowd thinned out.
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Marco Dimetra sat quietly nursing his mug of ale in the far corner of the tavern. His attention however, was repeatedly drawn to the young couple on the opposite end of the common room. Marco had been quiet surprised to see Folken Lacour enter the tavern, even more so when his fellow apprentice appeared to be in the company of young woman. The two were seated in a booth towards the back of the common room with the girl facing towards Marco. Discreetly Marco observed her: she was probably about the same age as Lacour and she had reddish hair that barely touched her shoulders. She was not what Marco would have considered to be beautiful, but she was an attractive girl. She was not very tall, Lacour probably towered over her by half a foot at least; her clothing was well cut, but rather plain; and she had the most amazing eyes that Marco had ever seen. He was quite intrigued and wondered what she might be doing with Folken Lacour; she did not look at all like one of the paid women that were likely to be in the company of a sorcerer. As he watched her, Marco could tell that she was more than just an acquaintance of Lacour's. There was something in her smile, in the way she looked at the man opposite her while she spoke; and once or twice she reached across the table and touched Folken's hand. Yes, definitely more than a friend . . . but who is she? Settling himself in the corner of his own booth, Marco watched -- and wondered.
When the two had finished their lunch, they pushed the dishes to one side and then the girl opened up a black bag and took out a pad of paper. Drawing paper? Tearing out a sheet she had handed it across the table to Lacour. The two appeared to be talking quite intently and Marco found himself wishing he was a fly on the wall near their table. Once, Folken's voice rose and Marco thought that he heard what sounded like "Jin."
Her name? Jin -- now why does that ring a bell? Marco turned the word over in his mind. Jin . . . drawing paper . . . that's it! The drawing in Lacour's room -- that was the name on the bottom of the drawing. But didn't he say he bought it in a shop? Come to think of it, he didn't seem to like me admiring I either. A little jealous perhaps? Lacour has a woman . . . wonder of wonders. Not just any woman from the look of things . . . this could be quite interesting. Smiling to himself, Marco Dimetra pulled some coins from his pocket, left them on the table top and slid out of the tavern unseen.
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Folken folded the sheet of paper into quarters and put it in the pocket of his coat. Picking up the mug next to him, he quickly drained the last of the lukewarm ale. He toyed with the earthenware cup in his hands as his eyes glanced at Jindra. Setting his mug back down on the table, Folken reached across the table and took her hand. "Jin, don't get mad at me . . . but -- I need . . . I need to ask you something." She looked at him, her eyes puzzled from the tone in his voice. "Are -- are you sure . . . are you sure this is what you want? Before we do this -- before we leave here -- I have to know that this is truly what you want."
Jindra shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh. "Folken, how many times are you going to ask me the same thing?"
"Jin, this is serious. Are you sure you can leave your parents behind? I don't want you to be unhappy and homesick. Once we leave here, we probably won't be able to come back -- or at least I won't be able to."
She gave him a long look before she spoke. "I'm not that naive you know -- this has nothing to do with my family, Folken. Even if my parents gave us their blessing, I know that we would still have to leave here. The sor -- the tower would never allow us to marry. This is the only choice we have. I know that you're only trying to protect me -- to keep me safe. But I want to be with you Folken . . . I want to be your wife -- the mother of your children . . . the thorn in your side for all eternity," she smiled at him, "and the only way for me to do that is to leave here."
She pulled her hand from his and rubbed her hands over her eyes as if she were weary. "I love you Folken Fanel and where you go, I go. I won't lie and tell you that I don't care about my parents or that I won't miss them -- because I will. But it's not like I won't ever see them again. Even if we can't come back here – they could still come to Palas." Jindra dropped her eyes and looked down at the tabletop; her fingers tracing unseen circles across the wooden surface. "I know this is going to hurt them . . . but they'll forgive me -- eventually." She looked up at Folken, "My father once told me that he could forgive me anything -- because I was his daughter and he loved me. I'm counting on that Folken -- my father has never lied to me." Jindra reached for Folken's hand, her thumb brushing across his knuckles. "I've never been surer about anything in my whole life -- this is what I want."
Folken saw the honesty and love in her eyes as she looked at him. Raising their joined hands, Folken kissed the back of hers. "I was hoping you would say that." There was wistfulness in his tone and Jindra raised her eyebrow at him. Folken smiled at the expression on her face, "Oh, by the way . . . did I mention that before we leave the city, I want to marry you? I want us to be legally married when we leave her Jin . . . what do you say? Want to get married -- say, in the next week or two?"
Jindra's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, "F-Folken . . . I-I-I . . ." She stammered out and then vigorously nodded her head.
Letting go of Jindra's hand, Folken rose and then slid into seat next to her. "I'll take that as a yes." Stroking her cheek with his left hand, he brushed a light kiss across her lips. "You have the sweetest blush I've ever seen on a woman; have I ever told you that?" Smiling at Jindra once again, Folken clasped her hand. "Guess we don't have to worry about you not being a blushing bride, now do we?"
Jindra kicked him under the table, "Ow! I must say my lady; you've got quite a temper." Letting go of her hand, he brought both of us up to cup her face, "A fiery temper to match the fire in those beautiful eyes. Guess I'll just have to smother that fire with a few kisses" Chuckling, he bent his head and their lips met.
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As Folken helped Jindra up into the coach, he kept hold of her hand, "I'll arrange everything with the registrar's office; if you think of anything else, just leave me a note at the bookshop." Pulling her towards him, he kissed her, "I love you."
Jindra reached out and stroked his cheek, "What else is new?" She smiled at him and he laughed. With a quick kiss on the back of her hand, he released her and closed the door of the coach. Jindra blew him a kiss as the cab started away. Folken watched the coach until it turned the corner; smiling he shook his head. Gods, if only everyone else could be as happy as I am right now . . .
"Well Folken, you certainly are a dark horse."