FORTY-ONE
Jindra was browsing among the shelves of the Marchment bookshop when an unfamiliar voice spoke behind her. "Excuse me -- Miss Roh?" She turned to find a dark-haired man with long shaggy curls looking expectantly at her.
"Y-Y-Yes, I'm Jindra Roh."
"I-I-I'm . . . my name is Marco -- Marco Dimetra." He stuttered a little and blushed.
Jindra raised her brow in annoyance as the man stared at her. "Is there something I can do for you, sir?"
"A-A-A friend of mine said that I would find you here. He asked me to give you a message." Reaching into a pocket of his coat, he brought out an envelope and handed it to her. Jindra's name was written across the front in a slanted scrawl that she knew quite well. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at the dark-haired man. "Who are you? Where did you get this?"
"As I told you, my name is Marco Dimetra -- and I think you know who gave this to me." He gestured to the handwriting on the envelope. "If you would read the note inside, I think that most of your questions will be answered." The man glanced around the shop, "Is there somewhere we can go? Somewhere with a bit more privacy?" He saw her hesitate, "I assure you, I mean you no harm." Marco could see that she was still wavering, "He trusted me to bring this to you -- the note will explain everything, I promise."
Jindra gave him a long look and then nodded her head. "We -- we can use one of the reading rooms. Let me see if there is one available." She turned away and Marco watched her approach an elderly woman shelving books across the next aisle. The older woman looked up at Marco, her eyebrow raised. After a few moments, Jindra turned to Marco and motioned for him to follow her.
Closing the door behind him, Marco followed Jindra to the small table in the room. He waited until she sat down before taking a seat. Jindra looked at him for a few moments, as if studying him and then turned her attention to the envelope in her hand. Breaking open the wax seal, she took out the folded sheet within. Smoothing out the paper, she began to read.
Jindra read the note three times, her eyes going up to Marco's face several times before returning back to the sheet in her hand. Finally putting the note on the table in front of her, she looked thoughtful for several minutes as she considered what Folken had written. Her gaze returned once again to the dark-haired man across from her. How do I know he is who he said he was? He could be anyone . . . how do I know that he's really Marco Dimetra? Jindra thought about the description of Marco that Folken had written. The envelope was still sealed . . . but how do I know he didn't open it somehow and read it?
Her voice was cool despite the nervousness that she felt inside. "How do I know you're really Marco Dimetra?"
He didn't seem surprised by the question. "Folken described me, didn't he?" She nodded her head. "I also know that you carry something that he gave you -- a crystal?" Jindra made no response; non-plussed, Marco continued. "Four days ago, you had lunch with him at the Northgate Tavern." Once again, she made no response. Marco sighed, "You're not going to make this easy, are you? Look, I understand that you're just trying to be careful -- and I would be too if I was you -- but I don't know what else to do to prove who I am."
He ran a hand through his hair, "Folken has something that you gave him -- a drawing, a drawing of Palas; I know because I've seen it." Jindra nodded her head. He gave her a small smile, "Satisfied?"
Jindra raised her brow at him once again. "Maybe -- maybe not; although you seem pretty sure of yourself." She gave him a measured look, "You're from -- from the tower?"
Marco nodded his head, "I'm an apprentice there -- like Folken; we've been mates for a while."
"He never mentioned you before."
He blushed a little, "Well . . . uh . . . uh . . . he didn't mention you to me either until a few days ago. I-I-I saw the two of you together in the tavern -- and -- and kind of surprised him after you left. H-H-He told me about you . . . like I said, we're mates -- and well, here I am -- ready and willing to help the course of true love." He gave her a wide smile.
Jindra didn't return his smile. She gestured towards the letter on the table, "Folken said that you're going to help arrange for our passage on a levi-ship; and with setting up the appointment at the registrar's office."
"Yes . . . after Folken told me what the two of you were planning -- I offered to help in any way that I could. They don't like it when he leaves the tower -- especially since he disappeared for those two days." Marco saw the faint blush that crept across Jindra's face as she looked down at her hands on the table. "No one really cares where I am most of the time -- it's easier for me to be out and about -- making the arrangements."
Jindra looked back up at his face, "Folken seems to have put an awful lot of trust in you -- I wonder why." Marco watched as her eyes seemed to darken into a cold, steely gray. "What game are you playing at Master Dimetra?"
Marco felt himself growing uncomfortable under Jindra's piercing gaze. "Like I said, he and I are friends -- well maybe not true friends -- but the closest thing to friends that we could ever be in the tower. I-I-I saw the two of you in the tavern and I was curious -- I could see that you were more than just friendly acquaintances." He nervously ran his hand through his hair, "I-I-I thought I'd just tease Folken a little -- but when . . . when I confronted him about you, he -- he looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach. He went all pale and I could see that he was afraid -- and angry. He-he- told me who you were and that -- that you and he were going to get married. H-H-He told me everything;" Marco saw the pink that stained her cheeks, "well, maybe not everything -- but enough."
"From what Folken has told me about the tower, I find it hard to believe that he would just blurt out something so -- so important. I'm not some stupid girl Master Dimetra, Folken would never have told anyone -- much less a sorcerer -- about us or what we were planning to do."
Marco looked at her for a few moments before he spoke again. "Folken could have lied to me, you know. He could have said that you were just some tart he picked up in the street or something -- but I think . . . I think that he really wanted -- no, that he really needed to tell me -- and if not me, then someone." Jindra saw a kindness in Marco's eyes that she didn't expect, "You should have seen him when he finished -- he looked like a giant weight had been lifted off his shoulders . . . I don't know how long he kept all that inside -- but I could see that he was relieved to finally be able to tell someone."
Jindra squeezed her eyes shut and took a breath as she wrapped her arms around herself. She regarded Marco for several minutes as she thought about what he had told her. "You must be his Bethanne," she said softly, as if to herself. Looking at him, she saw the puzzled look that he gave her, "Never mind, it would take too long to explain." Unwrapping her arms and placing them on the table in front of her, she continued. "Why -- why are you doing this? Why would you risk yourself to help us?"
Once again, Marco didn't seem surprised by the question. "Because I can . . . and because I owe Folken. But mostly because he doesn't belong in the tower, Miss Roh." He saw Jindra's eyes widen at his words. "He tries so hard to be a part of that place -- to be what they expect him to be . . . but it isn't in his nature. Folken doesn't have it in him to be so cold, so unattached and unfeeling -- that's his problem, he feels everything too much. But the longer he stays here, the deeper they dig their claws into him. Eventually they will break him -- and when that happens, Folken Lacour won't be anyone that you will ever recognize again."
Marco looked away from Jindra for a few moments; his voice was soft when he spoke again. "I-I-I don't have much of reputation in the tower, Miss Roh. I've been an apprentice for over ten years -- something of a record, I'm told. I'm not known for being overly bright and I do just enough work to get by -- traits that certainly haven't endeared me to my peers. But Folken, he -- he never treated me like I was inferior or stupid; he always treated me like an equal -- sometimes even better than that. In a way I'm glad that it was me he spilled all of this to, now I can try to repay him for the respect that he gave me." He swallowed several times before continuing. "It might not seem like something worth risking yourself for -- but to me -- to someone who never experienced anything like that before -- it meant more than just mere words could convey."
Marco looked at her, his eyes steady on her face. "I owe Folken -- I owe him for his respect, his friendship -- and especially for putting his trust in me. It took a great deal of courage for him to tell me about all of this -- more than I would have ever had." He gave her a small smile, "He loves you a great deal, you know . . . I just hope that you appreciate everything he's been through for you."
Jindra swallowed quickly and nodded her head. "He always says that he's not worthy of me -- but I think it's the other way around." She favored Marco with a small smile, "Believe me, I plan on spending the rest of my life showing Folken Lacour just how much I appreciate him."
Marco smiled back at her and ran his hand through is hair once again as he slumped down a little in his chair. "So Miss Roh, have you picked a date yet?" Jindra gave him a puzzled look. "Folken asked me to get the date so I could start making the arrangements." Jindra shook her head, still puzzled as to what he was asking of her. Marco tried again, speaking slowly. "The - date - for - your - wedding? Your - fiancé - would - like - to - know - when - you - would - like - to -get - married."
"I know what you meant, Master Dimetra." Jindra tried to glare at him, but she spoiled the effect by smiling as she tried not to laugh instead.
Marco tried to act serious, but tone of his voice was very light, "Of course you do; all women know everything -- I learned that long ago." He gave her a wry smile, "All this Master Dimetra stuff is making me feel positively ancient, please call me Marco."
Jindra smiled back, "I much prefer Jindra to Miss Roh myself."
"Not Jin?"
She shook her head, "Coren -- my brother -- used to call me Jin, and Folken kind of picked up the habit."
"Well, I wouldn't want your fiancé to think that I was getting too friendly with you, so I'll stick to Jindra." Marco said with a wink. Straightening up in his chair, he put his hands in front of him on the table, "Speaking of your intended victim -- I mean fiancé -- have you decided on the date of execution -- I mean a date for the wedding?"
Jindra arched her brow at him, "I don't find your attempt at humor to be at all amusing, Master Dimetra."
"I thought we were going to quit with the Master stuff, Miss Roh."
Jindra laughed, unable to help herself. "Truce?" She put her hand out towards Marco.
Marco took her hand, "Truce -- for poor old Folken's sake."
Jindra took her hand back and smiled. I can't believe he did it . . . but Folken seems to have chosen well. I'm really starting to believe that this is all going to work somehow . . .
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Anton Lefebvre stood, wrapped in a cloak despite the fine sunny day, on the corner across from the Marchment bookshop. He had seen Jindra Roh enter the shop some time ago and had taken up his current post while he waited for her. He had noticed the dark-haired man who followed her into the shop perhaps fifteen minutes later. Anton's curiosity had been peaked to say the least; although he did not know the man personally, he knew who he was -- and what he was. As all kinds of thoughts ran through his mind, Anton kept his silent vigil on the corner.