Naeharian had been walking for too long. She didn't want to ride anything stronger than the White with little Tarian in tow. The child hadn't had her Birthright Ceremony yet, and Naeharian drained herself quickly trying to shield the girlchild from the effects of the Winds' power. She didn't have the money for passage on a Coach--most of what she had had gone into new travel supplies for herself and for the child.

"Mama! I'm tired!" Tarian whined. Stretching up chubby little arms to her mother, her lower lip trembled. "Carry me!" Naeharian sighed. She'd not make any more progress today. Best she find an inn and settle in for the night.

*****

"Listen!" Naeharian fumed at the innkeeper. "I have the money. Where, exactly, is the problem?"

The White-jeweled Warlord shifted uneasily. "Begging your pardon, but...it's not safe for a woman and a babe to be staying alone. Especially a woman like...you." He gestured weakly at Naeharian, with her sweetly rounded curves. "There are evil men prowling, nowadays."

The Healer stretched her dark, membranous wings out threateningly, baring her teeth as her golden eyes and Opal jewel both flashed in synchronicity. She stepped deliberately in front of her child, and loosened the knife at her belt so that it was halfway out of its sheath. "I am an Eyrien woman, Warlord," she said, her voice dangerously quiet. "I've been beaten since I could walk. My husband was the only man who never hit me when I didn't do something to his liking. Living like that, I learned a thing or two about protecting myself--and my little one. I have the marks, now give me the room before I slit your throat."

The man recoiled in fear, but still stood firm, a quaver in his voice. "I'm afraid I can't give you a room without your husband present, madam," he said, clearly hoping the deference in his tone would be enough to save him. Naeharian sighed. She wasn't prepared to carry out her threat--she had only been trying to behave as she thought a warrior would in her place. She didn't even knw how to use the knife--Eyrien women didn't traditionally carry one. The knife itself was a kitchen knife, the sheath something she'd found in Aravar's belongings. The Healer was over her head here, and she knew it. "My husband," she began coldly, "is..."

"Right here, darling," a voice at her side said smoothly. Turning in shock, Naeharian's eyes met those of a Warlord Prince. He urged her with those golden orbs to play along. "Sorry I'm so late, I just wanted to get us something to eat. I know that little..." he paused, clearly at a loss as he didn't know the child's name. Naeharian swept in.

"Yes, love, Tarian is getting hungry," she said. "And you've brought her an apple! How thoughtful!" She proceeded to stuff this in the child's mouth just as the girl opened it to protest that this large man wasn't her father! Naeharian moved closer to the man, linking her arm with his. "This gentleman here," she said, indicating the innkeeper, "was thoughtful enough not to provide me with a room without you, dear. For my own protection, you understand."

"How delightful!" the man exclaimed. "Warlord, I must thank you for your concern over my wife, but I'm here now." The masterful air with which he proclaimed his ownership of her at once rankled with Naeharian and brought tears stinging to her eyes. It reminded her of Aravar, that pompous prick of a husband shed loved so much. She thrust the money at the innkeeper, who promptly showed the "family" to a spacious room.

Once the door was safely closed behind them, Naeharian turned on the stranger. "Thank you very much for your help. Now tell me who you are and get out before I gut you." She drew the knife and waved it in what she hoped was a threatening manner, edging Tarian over behind the bed to a safely out-of-reach spot.

To her surprise, instead of taking the knife and beating her black and blue with his fists, the man laughed. "First," he said, drawing his own knife, "my knife would make short work of yours, and then short work of you. If I'm not much mistaken, that particular knife, while useful for taking those tiny bones out of fish, isn't going to help you much here. Secondly, my name is Farivar Nashara, and I'm not going anywhere."

Naeharian hissed at him in frustration, then stopped as the Jewel fell out of his open shirt. He wore the Red. She was no match for him physically, and an Opal-jeweled healer was no match for a Red-jeweled Warlord Prince. With a sinking feeling, Naeharian realized she knew what the man wanted in return for helping her. "Not with the child in the room," she said firmly. "And there's no one to watch her." She cringed, fearing what he might do in his anger.

He went rigid, golden eyes blazing. "You think that..." he trailed off, speechless. "You stupid bitch, you're just like all the rest of them after all!" With a deep breath, he calmed down. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe that you would think that of e."

Her own temper roused, Naeharian snapped, "And why shouldn't I? Everyone else seems to think that of me! Except for Aravar..." she forced herself to look him in the eye. "Aravar Lartann. My late husband. Who was killed by this taint that creeps amongst us."

Farivar's eyes softened. "I'm sorry," he said again. This boy was a little repetitive, Naeharian thought wryly. "I didn't know. How did he...?"

"He tried to kill the Queen of Askavi," Naeharian snapped. "She's tainted too, in case you haven't noticed. I can't feel it on you, but that means nothing, so get out. I have a daughter to look after," she said, gesturing to wide-eyed, frightened Tarian cowering in a corner.

Following her look, Farivar walked slowly over to the child. He reached into his pocket. "NO!" screamed Naeharian, but he ignored her. From his pocket, he gently drew a half-carved piece of wood, looking vaguely like a little girl. "I was bored today," he said, "so I was making this little dollie for my niece. You're much prettier than she is, though, so when it's finished, if you are very good and mind your mother, I'll give it to you." Tarian reached out and touched the little figurine shyly, then grinned up into the man's face as Naeharian stood speechless.

"Thank the man for his offer, Tarian," she said firmly, "but he won't be with us when it's done. OUT!"

"Let me stay until Tarian is asleep, at least," he said wheedlingly. "There are men who would do you two harm."

"Fine," the Healer grumbled. "But not a second later.

*****

Tarian tucked safely into bed, Farivar unwrapped a bandage from around his thumb and looked wincingly at the festering cut below it. "What did you do to yourself?" Naeharian snapped grumpily.

"Cut myself making the doll," he shrugged. "It's not too bad."

"Nonsense," Naeharian snapped. "Anyone can see it's infected. Put this on." She practically threw save and a clean dressing at him, before supervising his application of both. "No, no!" She clucked her tongue and re-appropriated the supplies. "You're doing it all wrong, you incompetent oaf. Let me do it." Expertly, the Healer cleaned and bandaged the wound as Farivar grinned.

"So you have a softer side after all!" he exclaimed laughingly.

"Don't be foolish. Hush now, you'll wake the baby." She realized that her daughter now asleep, she could banish this man from her chambers. "All right, bargain concluded. Get out."

"Now hold on a minute. You're not to be traveling all alone. Look, i'll be more of a help than a hindrance. You've seen that I'm good with your daughter, and if I'd wanted to rape you I could have done it tenfold by now. I'll be good, I promise." This last was said with an adorable little-boy expression on his face, and Naeharian laughed in spite of herself.

"Fine," she said shortly. "But as soon as I decide you're not wanted, you're gone."

"Agreed." he said amiably. "Now, where are you going?"

"Ebon Askavi," Naeharian said quietly. "I'm going to tap the Winds." Seeing that hre audience had lapsed into shock, she began to tell her story.