The winter wind howled outside the small Inn. The sun had set half a candle length ago and Orrella had just served her twelfth mug of hot ale that night when the tavern's doorway flew open with a resounding crash, letting in a chill burst of fridged air. Some of the patrons complained loudly at the lack of common sense with leaving the door wide open and letting the warmth out, but fell silent when the tall armored figure filled the doorway. His face was scratched and his long hair so disheveled that Orrella thought that surely the man, a knight by the look of his armor plate, had recently been in a skirmish. Highwaymen had been attacking travelers in the area for the last season. The thugs were growing bolder as rumor of war spread throughout the land so it was very likely that is what had happened to the man-at-arms in the doorway. Other than his cladding of protective metal, the man carried no sword or other visible arm, probably having lost it in the fighting with the brigands. What he did carry in his arms was a small form wrapped tightly in a dark cloak. Snow fell from his long dark hair as he said in a strangely accented voice,
"I need help. She's been hurt."
Thinking the body he held could be that of a child because of its diminutive size, Orrella hurried out from behind her bar as another customer forced the door closed behind the man.
"Bring her over by the fire," she ordered briskly as she shooed several men away from that area to make room. The man nodded quickly and carried his bundle toward her. His armored boots thudding against the hardwood plank floors. "What happened?" she asked.
"We were in a... accident," the man said.
Orrella absently reconsidered her earlier assessment of the situation. "Your carriage wrecked on the road, did it?" she asked. That made sense also. The man was obviously a knight of some sort, even though his armor looked odd on closer inspection. He was probably escorting some Lady from a far away land and the carriage slid on the icy roadway. It had happened many times before as the fief's roads could become very treacherous in foul weather such as tonight.
"Something like that," the knight replied a moment later as he set his bundle gently down.
Orrella turned to one of her serving girls, "Lessa, get me some clean linen for bandaging and boil some water." The girl nodded her head smartly at her instructions and darted off to carry them out. The Inn owner glanced back at the knight. "Let me get a look at your Lady to see how badly she is injured," she told him as she unwrapped the cloak from around the woman's head.
Orrella's look of concern for the small figure turned to one of shock as the face was unwrapped, then transformed into one of horror as the pale gray skin, black lips, and hair as white as freshly fallen snow registered. Behind her, one of the patrons who was looking over her shoulder gasped and said,
"ShadowFolk!" The name sounding almost like a curse.
Another man, a woodsman, did curse out loud as Orrella backed away form the creature laying on the floor in front of her fire. The woodsman drew his short sword and moved forward with it raised over his head to dispatch the vile sprite. Alarmed, the knight spun to meet him. There was a sound of ringing metal and sparks flew as he swung one arm in a blur. The Woodman's short sword blade shattered from the impact, leaving him holding nothing but the haft and guard with a half-thumb length of blade still attached. He looked at his weapon and then back at the knight. There was now a pair of wickedly serrated blades protruding from the gauntlet on his right forearm... and hot anger in his eyes. The Woodsman dropped his broken sword and hurriedly backed away from the man. The knight let him retreat and spun back to face Orrella.
"Why did he do that? What's wrong with you people trying to kill a injured woman?" he demanded in barely contained fury.
Orrella looked at him in fear. "Why did you bring her here?" she asked in turn, the terror in her voice growing. "She's ShadowFolk. Nothing but evil and death follow those. You should have had enough sense to kill her when you came across her, Sir Knight."
"She is my Bond-mate. Not one of these ShadowFolk you fear so much," he replied hotly.
"Bond-mate?" broke in one of the patrons. "Hell's Gates! He's enthralled to her!"
Another man turned and said, "I'll run and get the Constable and his men." Before anyone could answer him, the man was out the Inn door leaving behind only a gust of cold air.
The knight got an annoyed look on his face. "I mean... she is my wife," he explained to the patrons. The others in the room looked shocked at the announcement. "And I will kill the next person who tries to harm her," he promised with glaring eyes.
The group didn't seems to be inclined to test out his threat further so Berret let the blades slowly slide back into his gauntlet armor. This seemed to impress them enough for them to want to keep their distance for the time being.
"I don't want any trouble. Just someplace warm where I can tend to my wife's injuries," he told them.
The young girl, Lessa, came back into the room carrying a small pot of hot water and several bundles of clean cloth. She paused with a small yelp as she saw the gray woman on the floor and almost dropped the pot. Berret caught it and thanked the girl even as she moved away to hide behind Orrella's apron. Patrons had been slipping out the door in a steady flow after Berret advised them that death would follow anyone who attempted to harm the white-haired female. It was just as well he thought to himself, it was less people to have to keep track of while he cared for Chiana. He reached into a belt pouch and removed one of the gems that he carried as a universal currency. He placed the Killrain Green Diamond on a near-by table.
"That should cover any inconvenience and loss of business we've caused. There'll be another when we leave," he told her and then began to tend Chiana's slight cuts and bruises with the warm water and white linen cloth.
Orrella picked up the diamond after Berret went back to looking after Chiana. She passed the gem to another man who looked at it with an appraising eye. After a few moments he passed it back.
"I have never seen anything like it. It has to be worth a small fortune," he said quietly. Orrella thanked him and placed the diamond safely into her apron pouch. Berret had opened the cloak up to inspect his Bond-mate again. He had given her a rough examination after he had carried her out of the crashed Transport Pod shortly after it exploded. As near as he could tell she had suffered no broken bones in the crash but he had no way of knowing if she had internal injuries and if she did, how bad they were as the med-kit had gone up with the Pod. There hadn't been time to do anything but grab the cataleptic Nebari woman and run for their lives.
She had a strong pulse, but the woman had been unconscious for the better part of almost two arns and the Shrike was deeply worried. He checked her over again and still found no obvious broken bones or abnormal swelling. He rewrapped the cloak about her small body afterwards and then brushed her growing hair off her forehead to feel for a temperature.
"Come on, Pixie. Please wake up," he murmured in Nebari as he lovingly stroked her cheek.
The people around him didn't understand the alien language he was speaking.
"You see! He speaks in unknown tongues to the creature. He's enspelled by her," whispered one old man.
"They say that ShadowFolk can only enthrall you when they are awake," said Orrella, watching the armoured man. "She is unconscious so her hold over the knight should have faded... unless he truly loves her."
"This still tastes of witchery. No good can come of this, Orrella."
"I don't know of many Darkworshippers who pay for services. Do you, Yana?" asked Orrella in return with a wary eye.
The door opened again letting in the sound of howling wind and Constable Inanta stamped his feet and brushed snow out of his graying hair and beard before asking in a great rumbling voice,
"Okay, Orrella. What's all this huboo about a ShadowFolk sprite being here? I swear to the Mother, you need to stop letting Pherely drink so much. He burst into my office with this tall tale of..." he broke off as patrons stepped aside and gave him a good look at the gray woman on the floor. "Holy Mother of Light!" he swore next while making a sign over his heart with one finger. Behind him, his two deputies who had followed him in also did a double take.
Berret rose to his feet to meet the men just as the man named Pherely broke through to the front of the crowd.
"You see!" exclaimed Pherely, excitedly pointing at Chiana and then at Berret. "There she is just as I told ya. And him there is her Thrall." One of the Deputies unslung a crossbow from over his shoulder and pointed it in Berret's direction as the Shrike firmly placed himself between Chiana and the lawmen.
"Hold on there, Sir Knight," said Inanta, holding up both his hands peacefully. "We're here to help you. The ShadowFolk woman obviously has you bespelled. You need to step aside and let us handle this and do what needs to be done before she awakes."
Berret crossed his arms and stubbornly cocked his head slightly to one side as he regarded the Constable and his men.
"For the last time. Chiana is my wife and not one of these ShadowFolk you keep referring too. I've paid for lodging here and none of you are going to lay a hand on her."
"You see, he protects her and claims they are wed," exclaimed Pherely again.
"I can hear him, Pherely," said Inanta in annoyance. "Go sit with the others while I handle this."
Pherely grumbled and slid off to watch with the rest of the remaining customers while the Constable turned to Orrella.
"Is it true he paid for lodging here?" he asked. Orella confirmed that Berret had. "Okay," said Inanta, "but that still leaves us the problem of the dark woman." He looked back at Berret, "She still needs to be destroyed despite what you believe. We can't have one of the ShadowFolk here in the settlement. Once she is gone and the spell is broken, you'll come to your senses."
Berret uncrossed his arms. "I don't want any trouble and as soon as she's well enough and the weather breaks we will be on our way," he said. "But I warn you... if anyone tries to harm my Bond-mate... I will kill them if they force me too."
"Careful, Constable!" cried Pherely. "He has blades hidden in his gauntlets. I saw them cut right through Pallath's sword like it wasn't even there."
"Easy, now," Inanta said. "One of my men is going to go over and gather the Shadow woman up. We'll take her outside and see to her. When it's over, you'll feel better and thank us for freeing you."
Berret frowned knowing that there was going to be no reasoning with these people. They had backed him into a corner and truly believed they were doing the right thing for all concerned. The deputy without the crossbow stepped forward toward Chiana at a gesture from Inanta. Berret let him come and as he walked in front of him, the Shrike released a straight punch directly into the man's solar plexus, driving the man backwards and the breath out of his lungs. The move was so fast and unexpected that the man holding the crossbow swore and fired his weapon before the Constable could order him to stop. The bolt with its iron-barbed tip sped at Berret's chest. Barely a hand-span away from its target, Berret snatched it out of the air with one hand. The Constable and crowd watched awe-struck as Berret regarded the crossbow bolt with silver-tinted eyes and then snapped the thick shaft in half using just the fingers of his hand.
He let the pieces fall to the floor at his feet as he turned his emotionless gaze to the lawman.
"Look at his eyes!" one of the patrons cried out.
"He is possessed by the ShadowFolk!" another added.
The man who Berret had punched gasped out, "No! I've heard stories... of knights who turn berserker in the midsts of battle, with eyes of fire! Only a warrior of legend could have caught a crossbow bolt such as he did."
"It's been a really long and bad day," he said as he moved toward the Constable and his men, ignoring the talk. "And I was hoping not to have to resort to violence but you're not leaving me much choice."
The man with the crossbow began franticly to try and re-cock the prod and load another bolt. The other two men backed away reaching for their short-swords as Berret strode threateningly forward. The blades of his right gauntlet brace snapped out once again and he swiped them upwards to cut through the heavy steel prod that powered the crossbow. With the sudden loss of one of its bow limbs, the weapon kicked back and knocked the deputy to the floor.
"Take it easy, good Knight," Inanta said, holding up empty hands having decided it best not to draw his weapon after all. Berret frowned and stepped menacingly forward anyway.
"THAT IS ENOUGH!" bellowed Orrella, pausing the men in their tracks before the combat could begin in earnest. "I will not have you silly men brawling in my Inn! If you insist on maiming each other... do so outside where you wouldn't mess my floors."
Berret backed away from the lawman, really not wishing to fight with the group anyway. He was much too concerned about Chiana to want to spare these men much of his attention. He held up the gauntlet so they could see him retracted the blades, and the silver slowly faded from his eyes as he forced himself to calm.
"I have no wish to harm anyone. I am only protecting my wife," he said to the constable. "We are not from around here and she is not one of these shadow people you fear. She's just a normal person of a different race, that's all. My eyes are simply a badge of my calling among my people," he explained, using their myths to help form a believable explanation for these natives. The ruse seem to pay off as several of the patrons began to mutter among themselves about how they have heard similar stories about far off lands and their inhabitants. However, their fear of the unconscious Chiana was still plainly evident.
Inanta gave him a fatherly look, obviously still believing that Berret was somehow being manipulated.
"Lad, I know you believe that. But she fits the description of the ShadowFolk. Everybody knows they have skin that's gray and as cold as death itself. Even her lips aren't normal; they're the color of something that's been dead for a long time. Please, lad. For your own good, you need to let us take care of her so you can be free of her spell."
Berret titled his head to one side as he regarded the man. "So you only have a description of what a ShadowFolk looks like? None of you have actually ever seen one?" Inanta blinked his eyes.
"Well... no. I never have myself," he said after a moment. "But my father claimed to have seen one when he was a lad."
The constable looked around the Inn but no one else could confirm ever having seen one either.
"So none of you can positively identify Chiana as one of these evil spirits, or confirm if she is, that I have been put under a spell?" asked Berret.
The people looked around the room at each other blanky. Orrella finally spoke up.
"There is one way to test to see if the knight has been enthralled," she said.
"How?" asked the Shrike, willing to do all most anything to end the situation so he could go back to caring for Chiana. Orrella begin digging under her heavy layers of clothing and eventually produced a round metal pendant on a crude chain from around her neck, and pulled it off over her head. She murmured something under her voice and pressed the object reverently to her lips. Walking over to Berret she held the medallion out.
"This is a holy relic blessed by the Light Mother. If you were enthralled to a ShadowFolk, you wouldn't be able to hold this in your hands. It would burn you as being unclean of soul, nor would you be able to speak the Light Mother' name," she explained. "If you be free of spirit or gleam, take it in your hands now and swear so."
Berret moved forward and took the disk from her, making sure that they saw it resting in his bare fingers and not on his armored half-glove.
"I swear to you and to your Light Mother that my will is my own... and that no dark forces control me," Berret vowed and then for good measure pressed the pendant against his lips just as Orrella earlier had.
Orrella took back her charm. "I believe him. The Old Mother herself gave the pendant to me. Nothing of the dark could bear its touch."
Berret nodded his thanks. "Now that I trusted you and passed your test, I would like you to trust me and do something I ask," he said. Orrella looked a little wary.
"What's that?" she asked.
"I simply want you to confirm with your own senses that my wife is just another living person," he said as he walked the Innkeeper over to the prone Chiana. The woman looked like she would balk but with the other people in the room watching her, she dare not show any lack of faith after confirming Berret passed her test. The Shrike knelt down besides his bond-mate and Orrella went down besides him. He again lovingly stroked the Nebari girl's cheek and then gently took one of Orrella's hands and ran it down the same gray skin.
"You see? Nothing to be scared of. Just warm living flesh... nothing dead," Berret told her.
Orrella looked at the girl in awe and then moved her fingers down to her neck. "Yes, warm like you or me," she said. "I can feel her heartbeat." Orrella looked back up at Berret. "I hardly would have thought to believe that she was anything other then a Shadowfolk. Please forgive me."
Berret nodded his head that all could be forgiven but he still looked around the room at the rest of the patrons and the lawmen with some concern. Orrella turned back to the girl, Lessa, and then ordered,
"Run and fetch the Old Mother. Tell her we have an injured woman here and to bring her medicines," she told the girl. The girl stood wide-eyed for a moment and Orrella barked at her to break her from the trance the gray woman held her in.
"Go! Off with you girl for' I lay my hand to your silly backside," Orrella scolded her. The girl tore off, pausing only to throw on a heavy cloak before scurrying out the Inn's front door on her errand.
Berret sat back on his heels and eyed the Constable and his men warily. Inanta looked from the Shrike back to the Inn owner.
"So what you're telling us now is that that woman is no danger?" he asked Orrella.
"No, I don't believe so now," the woman replied distractedly while she looked over Chiana further. For good measure she placed her pendant against one of Chiana's hands. When the gray flesh didn't burn, she nodded to herself and replaced the relic back around her neck.
Inanta adjusted his heavy coat. "Well, than... if your certain everything is fine and you're willing to let them stay in your Inn, my deputies and I will be one our way."
Orrella turned to face him long enough to answer, "The good knight paid for lodging for his ill wife and himself. We'll have no further trouble here. Thank you for coming out in this weather, Inanta."
The Constable nodded his head as if to say that it was all in a day's work when Pherely spoke up from his place at the bar.
"You can't just go and leave her here! She'll be a curse on this village I tell you!" he exclaimed excitedly. Orrella frowned deeply but before she could take her patron to task, the lawman stepped in.
"Now hush yourself, Pherely!" he admonished in a strict voice that would bode no argument. "It's Orrella's place and its her call as to whom may stay and who has to go." The big man placed both fist on his hips as he regarded the excited bar customer. Inanta screwed up his face as if something just occurred to him and then said, "As a matter of fact, I believe it was time you were heading back to your home. Your wife must be waiting up for you and the hour is getting late. I can already tell you've had more then your fair fill of ale tonight."
Inanta took Pherely by one arm and escorted him toward the door to join his waiting deputies. Pherely looked as if he wanted to protest some more, but a deep frown from the Constable made him change his mind. Meekly he stood with Inanta's men waiting for the lawman to finish saying goodnight.
Orrella gave Inanta a quick look of thanks for taking Pherely off her hands. She had enough to deal with concerning the gray woman and the strange knight who claimed he was her husband without having to deal with Pherely stirring up more trouble among her few remaining other patrons.
After the lawmen left with their unwilling escort, the tension in the Inn abated a bit though some of the other patron ducked out probably believing that it was best not to take the chance that the gray female wasn't an evil spirit despite Orrella's tests. Berret had just settled in enough to relax somewhat when the Inn's door opened again and a woman who would have given the Delvian Grandmaster Shenna a good run for the oldest creature he'd ever seen, hobbled in.
"Good Eve, Old Mother," said Orrella with more then just a touch of respect in her voice for the old woman. "Thank you for coming so quickly and on such a fridged night like tonight."
The old woman waved her off with a smile. "Its no bother, Orrella," she said in a voice wore rough from age. "That's what I'm here for and at my age I look forward to being called out. It gives my old bones something to do besides sit by my fire." The woman looked around the room until her eyes landed on Berret who knelt protectively over his bond-mate. "Little Lessa tells me you have some interesting company."
"Yes, Old Mother. This knight and his good wife where in a carriage accident," Orrella explained.
"I see," said the Healer as she hobbled closer to the pair before the fireplace. "Move aside, lad... and let old Helena have a look-see at your woman."
Berret reluctantly moved to one side so the old woman could get at the Nebari woman. Helena's kneels popped audibly as she knelt down beside the prone woman.
"By the light, I thought the girl was fibbing," exclaimed the Healer with a dry chuckle. "The lass do look like she belongs of the Shadowfolk. As she poked and prodded the unconscious Nebari, Orrella dutifully told the older woman of the tests she administered before she arrived. Helena grunted her agreement and approval when the Innkeeper finished her report and then pried one of Chiana's eyes opened.
"Lights, but her eyes are so dark you can barely tell if they shy from the firelight," she muttered to herself. The woman then dug through bag of herbs and handed several items to Orrella with instructions to boil them into a broth tea. Helena then turned her attention to the tall man next to her.
"Help me up, would you kind Knight?" she asked Berret. The Shrike offered her his hand and helped her to her feet again. The old woman gave Berret a strange look and then asked,
"Did you carry your Lady far in this weather?"
"Yes, quite a distance," Berret answered, unsure why the woman would need to ask the question of him.
Before he could stop her, Helena placed one wrinkled hand against his forehead and then ran in down the sides of his face. "How do you feel?" she then asked.
"Fine," the Shrike answered.
"You feel no chills?"
"None."
The old woman shook her head. "You will soon," she said in a tone that left no room for doubt. "You've caught a good chill tonight. Drink some of the broth Orrella will bring your Lady. She's taken a good knock to the head but I don't think she's broken anything. It's this cold that drains the health from a body. In these parts it has a way of sneaking up on the unwary and robbing them of their vim. Have Orrella keep her warm and spoon some of the broth tea down her, as much as you can. Come morning she should be up and about."
"Thank you," said Berret. He drew another crystal from his pouch and attempted to pay the woman for her service. The Healer shook her head and refused the payment.
"Thank you, Sir Knight," she said and than squinted her eye as she regarded him. "No disrespected... But even though you wear armor, I don't think you are a knight. Are you?"
"Not in the sense I think you mean, Old Mother. No," the Shrike answered.
"You're an honest lad, I give you that. Most young men mistaken for a knight might be tempted to abuse the privilege. Many a fair country maid have fallen to fast talking charlatans," Helena told him. "You're no commoner and I can see you're no stranger to death. You have that pail about you that says you've seen more blood spilt then you care to remember."
Berret reminded silent, becoming a little un-nerved that the old medicine woman was able to read him so well in just a short time. His discomfort must have shown as the woman padded his arm in reassurance.
"Fear not, laddie. Whatever secrets you hold are yourn' to keep. It's just not often you meet a dangerous man who has been tamed," Helena continued on with a smile that revealed very few teeth left in her mouth.
She nodded toward Chiana asleep on the floor. "It was she that caught ya and settled your heart?"
Berret looked at his bond-mate. "Yes... she makes me a better person," he admitted.
The old woman cackled out loud and poked him teasingly in the ribs. Despite the armor covering the area, Berret found himself involuntarily flinching from the tease like a child.
"I thought so," she said. "I was always a slack-wit for a good love story." She leaned in closer to Berret as if to confide a deep secret. "In my younger days, I turned more than a few men from their wild ways," she said with a wink. "You both be good to each other. The time passes quicker than ya knows." She began stuffing items and pouches back into her bag. "If you still feel the need to pay me, you can leave a donation with Orrella toward my supply bill. It goes against the Light Mother's teachings to charge to heal the sick."
"Thank you. I will do that then," answered Berret.
The old woman hitched up her bag over one shoulder and nodded to Berret.
"You be sure to drink down as much of the broth as you can tonight to fight off the chills, otherwise you'll be deathly sick come morning and you'll have to call for me again," she told him.
Berret told her he would follow her instructions and idly wonder what the Healer would say if she knew about his microbe augmentation. He almost dismissed the idea of drinking her potion then decided that given the habit of his microbes to protect him against some sicknesses and then totally leave him to the mercy of some simple forms of illness such as a common cold - it might be best to err on the side of caution this time and take his medicine so to speak.
Helena patted his arm again as she went to the door and muttered something about how love can change anything. She gave him one last parting smile and then began quietly singing a love song to herself in a croaking voice as she walked out the Inn door.
Berret shook his head slightly and wondered why all the old people he'd met in his life seemed so eccentric.
Orrella helped Berret spoon-feed some of the broth into Chiana without having the Nebari woman gag too much in the process. The Innkeeper showed the ex-assassin the room she had set aside for him and his bond-mate but Berret elected not to move Chiana from beside the warmth of the fireplace for the moment. Instead, Orrella had one of her workers bring down a mattress and the Shrike placed his wife on it to make her more comfortable. A few arns later, Orrella chased her few remaining customers out for the night. The Inn owner frowned slightly as she realized the amount of business she'd lost that evening due to Berret and Chiana's sudden appearance. To make up for her loss, the Shrike gave her another diamond crystal and an additional one to go toward Helena's supply bill. With the Inn closed for the night, Berret felt safe enough to remove most of his armor. However, he left on his blade braces in case some of the villagers took it into their heads to try and surprise them sometime during the night.
Orrella and her staff had retired to their rooms several arns ago and Berret sat propped up in a chair watching over his wife and occasionally feeding the fire to keep her warm. He found himself staring off into the flickering flames sometime in the middle of the night when Chiana's moan brought him fully alert. He was at her bedside in an instant; the Nebari woman rolled her head weakly from side to side as she fought her way toward consciousness.
"Pixie?" Berret asked in a whisper as he stroked her face. "Chiana?"
Chiana's dark eyes fluttered open and she looked around in mild confusion. Her eyes found him in the semi-light of the fire.
"Are we dead?" she asked in a raspy voice.
Berret shook his head. "Not yet," he said with a small tight smile. "How do you feel?" he asked.
"I've been better," Chiana replied. "I don't think anything's broken. I just have a headache and I'm thirsty."
Berret reached over to the warming pot next to them and poured her a mug of the broth. Holding her head up, he helped her drink.
"Where are we?" Chiana then asked as Berret eased her head back down on the pillow.
"We crash landed on a small planet just passed the Peacekeeper defense satellite that shot us down."
"How bad's the Pod?"
Berret shook his head again, "Totally destroyed. The fuel cells exploded shortly after impact. I was barely able to get you out in time before they went up. I wasn't able to save anything else." Berret visibly swallowed as he relived those few terrifying microns. "I thought I'd lost you," he confessed.
Chiana saw the fear of losing her in his eyes and smiled up comfortingly at her husband.
"Hey," she said as she reached up to brush his face with the tips of her fingers, "You can't get rid of me that easy. So how bad is it? Where are we now?"
Berret sat down besides in wife to be closer to her. "Well, I managed to find us shelter. This planet has a primitive civilization of a sort. I estimate that they are somewhere between a Medieval and early industrial stages. No space flight, of course. They speak a sort of bastardization of early Sebacean but I hear hints of S'Aqualian and Norressi accents in their language."
Chiana nodded, knowing the microbe technology her husband possessed allowed him to hear and copy fine details of different languages. With the standard translator microbes most beings including herself were injected with simply made her hear another person speak in Nebari... that is, as long as the other being's language was programmed into her microbes she would hear Nebari. If the language weren't, she would need to have another injection with the proper microbes to understand them. Berret's translator microbes were a bit more complicated and allowed him to tell the differences in languages and copy accents. It was more or less just another tool for use in the assassin's trade. She's asked him before to explain how he perceived their friends talking to him and he told her he wasn't sure what language he was speaking in half the time even though when she heard him talking to others, the conversation was always in Nebari as far as she was concerned. He described the feeling of talking with others as a change in tempo, tone, and accent depending on whom he was talking to. He could say the exact same thing to several of their crewmates and it would feel different to him each time. Hello to Crichton would feel different from saying hello to Aeryn and Andar, and different from Malika and Zhaan. Berret found it hard to put into words for Chiana and he said it just got to the point where he didn't try and figure out what he was doing when he spoke and just accepted it. One sure thing is, being able to copy locate dialects had come in handy on several occasions when Berret had to pass himself off as a native. Chiana also knew that she probably wasn't going to be able to talk to any of the natives here, as their speech probably wasn't programmed into her microbes if it was an old tongue. It wouldn't do her much good if it were in any event, as the natives wouldn't have microbes of their own to understand Nebari. Chiana reached up to touch her bond-mate's face, glad that except for some almost healed scratches he was all right. As her fingertips brushed his skin again she felt his body's unusual warmth. Placing her palm against his cheek, she confirmed her first impression.
"You're too warm," she said to him. Berret caught her hand and squeezed it slightly and smiled over her sudden concern.
"It's just a slight fever. Nothing to worry about," he told her.
"Are you sure? You normally don't get sick," Chiana asked.
Berret nodded again. "It's something to do with the weather here. The inhabitants make a tea out of herbs to counteract it. That's what I just gave you and I had some earlier. Their healer says we will be fine in the morning." The Nebari took her husband at his word and hoped he was right. She put those thoughts aside for the moment as she thought of something of more immediate importance.
"Do you think the others will be able to find us?"
Berret shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know," he admitted. "I ejected a distress buoy just before our orbit decayed. If it picks up Moya's plexxing beacon on a search pattern, it should switch on and warn them of the defense satellite and give them our position. The Aeryn and Malika can go in with the Prowlers and destroy the satellite before they send a Pod in to pick us up."
The Nebari woman nodded and didn't comment anymore. She adjusted her position on the mattress and half crawled onto her bond-mate's lap to lean against him. Berret wrapped his arms around her and was thrilled to have her hug him back after the arns of worry he just went through.
Chiana stared into the fire for a while and then asked in idle curiosity, "What do these people look like?"
"Like Sebaceans," Berret muttered distractedly in response as he stroked her hair.
Chiana stiffened as a thought struck her. She remembered a few occasions on primitive planets where she looked different then the normal populace... and things hadn't gone too well for her back then. She lifted her head to look at her husband in alarm.
"If these people are a pre-space flight civilization, how did you explain me to them?" she asked in worry.
Berret assured her that everything was fine for the moment and got her to lay her head back down on his chest. He started to stroke Chiana's hair once again as he said,
"That... is a very long story. But it can wait until the morning."
Anyone else and Chiana would have demanded the details right then. However, she trusted her bond-mate without doubt, so she relaxed against him and enjoyed the feel of his hand running over her hair, letting the dancing fire in the hearth make her eyes heavy with sleep.
"Sir Berret?"
Berret eyes slowly opened as the voice called his name. He was confused and groggy with sleep as he finally realized Orrella was standing over him lightly touching his shoulder. Idly he wondered how the woman had gotten so close to him without waking him, but then he decided he must have been more exhausted then he had originally thought.
"Yes, Mistress Orrella?" Berret replied as he wiped sleep from his eyes. In his lap, Chiana stirred at the voices and stretched like a Sebacean Floxx-cat. As she opened her dark eyes, Orrella took a cautious step back away from the couple.
"I see your Lady must have awakened during the night. I was just wondering if the two of you would like to break your fasts before I open the Inn?" the Innkeeper asked, openly curious about Chiana.
The Nebari girl gave the other woman a friendly smile trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. She rested her head contentedly back against Berret's chest while reaching around his chest to hug him.
"Good morning," she murmured.
Berret replied in kind and the Nebari cracked in eye back open to regard him. "What did our host say?" she inquired. Berret told her about the offer for breakfast and Chiana responded eagerly at the idea.
Berret chuckled good-naturedly at his bond-mate.
"Now I know you're perfectly fine if you're not turning your nose up at food," he exclaimed.
Chiana absently slapped at his chest. "Be quiet!" she said mockingly.
Orrella was watching the pair with unconcealed interest as they spoke in the incomprehensible tongue. After the gray woman frowned and swatted at the knight for something he said to her, the man turned and told her they would be grateful for something to eat. The Innkeeper ambled back into the kitchen a little more at ease with the situation. Even though she couldn't understand a word the couple was saying to each other it was obvious they were wed. The way the gray woman didn't hesitate to put the man in his place left no doubt in her mind about that. All men, wither highborn knights or the lowest common folk, needed a strong woman to keep them in their places and out of trouble. It was good to know that even in foreign lands, some things will always be the same she thought with a knowing grin. There was one thing that struck her as odd now that she thought of it. She could have sworn that the man's face had been scratched up last night from the accident they'd had. Now it appeared as if nothing at all had happened to him. Maybe she had been mistaken about his injuries or it had simply been just dirt she thought were scratches. Another thing that occurred to her was that the man's strange accent had faded. He spoke now as if he'd lived in this area all his life. Orrella frowned at herself for worrying about something so silly. Many people spoke more that one language as was obvious with the knight. She had heard that some people could speak other regional dialects flawlessly under normal conditions but under stress, such as a carriage wreck and having to carry your spouse an untold distance in bad weather might cause, their command of the second language might falter a bit and they make mistakes... like allowing an accent to creep in. She smiled satisfied with herself for having logically explained her new guests. After all, she considered herself an intelligent civilized woman, not some uneducated superstitious backwoods female - Thank the Light Mother.
Berret strapped on his armor before joining Chiana at the table for breakfast. As the couple ate, Orrella's staff cleaned up the mattress the Nebari had spent the night on and straightened up the Inn's common room before it was to be opened to the public for business. The Shrike caught the workers occasional glancing at Chiana out of the corner of their eyes while they worked; Chiana also caught the attention and did her best to try to appear normal. Berret had given her his cloak to wear over her usual outfit after Orrella pointed out privately that Chiana was showing a bit more skin that was normally acceptable in good company. The Innkeeper promised to find the Nebari something more appropriate to wear during their stay. Berret thanked the woman after offering an apology for the slight transgression of local custom. He further went on to offer an explanation that they haled from a warmer climate and it was common for people to wear less clothing to keep cool. Orrella seemed to buy the story and shuffled away to tend the employees in her kitchen. Chiana asked what the discussion had been about and after her bond-mate filled her in she regarded Berret with a look of mischief. If they had been in any other situation, Berret suddenly had the feeling that his wife would have stripped all her clothing off in public just for the shock value. Under the current circumstances he was glad she decided to behave herself and curtailed her relish for causing trouble.
After breakfast, they went to their rented room and true to her word; Orrella had several dresses laid out on the bed for Chiana to try on. To Berret's surprise, Chiana gushed over the heavy dresses. He'd originally thought his wife would grumble and complain about having to wear clothing that was so... covering.
To his further amusement, she threw him out of the room so she could try them on alone. Berret shook his head in bewilderment as she closed the door behind him and headed back downstairs to the common room. A few customers where already at the bar, instead of ale this time, their mugs appeared to be filled with some steaming beverage. The quiet murmur of conversation stopped when he entered the room. A few of the patrons craned their necks to look behind him, probably wondering if Chiana was following him.
After it was obvious he was alone, they turned back to their discussions as Berret made his way over to a clear space at the bar. Orrella happened to be behind it drying glassware while Lessa served the customers their drinks.
"Oh, Sir Berret," the Innkeeper said, "Would you like a mug of Kl'ash this morning?"
"Why not," said Berret with a tiny shrug of his shoulders. He had no idea what Kl'ash was but he saw no harm in giving the local drink a try. Orrella set a mug down in front of him and filled the cup herself from a nearby pot.
"Did your Lady like the dresses I had sent to your room?" she inquired.
"Yes, thank you," said Berret after tasting the beverage. It sort of reminded him of a drink he'd had a few weekens ago on a commerce planet Moya had laid over at. John and Sean had both insisted that it tasted like something called cinnamon on Earth. "She's in the room now trying them on," he continued. "That's why I'm down here," he added with a mock frown that only touched part of his lips.
Orrella smiled. "A woman needs her private time to make herself presentable," she said. "You must be newly wed not to already know that."
Berret smiled back at the woman, realizing she had the upper hand in the conversation. "Yes," he admitted, "we were married only recently."
Orrella chuckled and patted his hand motherly, "Don't worry. She'll teach you what you have to know."
The Innkeeper moved on to tend a few of her other customers. After a few microns a number of the other men approached Berret. After apologizing for disturbing him they asked from which direction he had come and if he had seen signs of any game animals in his journey. Berret doubted the men would travel far enough to find the crashed Pod and even if they did it most likely had burned down into something unrecognizable by now. He asked for them to describe what a track of a local game animal looked like. After they did, he informed that that he had seen several signs of herds on the walk there. He did his best to describe the areas and the men quickly zeroed in on the places. They thanked him and asked if he'd care to accompany them on a hunting trip that day. They seemed to think it would be a special occasion to have a "knight" with them on the hunt. One of the group, the man Pherely from the night before, didn't look as if he would consider having Berret along as a special occasion.
Berret thanked them for the offer but said he would have to think about it and see if his wife was feeling up to being left alone. A large man who introduced himself as Bearl, the village blacksmith, slapped Berret across the shoulder and said slyly that he understood as he was a married man also. The other men laughed at the comment and then descended into great belly laughs when another man pointed out that Bearl's wife was even larger then him and that it was in his own best interest to ask his wife for permission to go hunting. Bearl threw a good-natured insult back at his tormenter and the man shot back that Bearl was just mad because his wife was also the better blacksmith. Berret found himself relaxing with the men as they talked. They were a simple people, without such worries like Peacekeepers or Scarrans. Their concerns settled mostly about their farms, their crops, who needed help raising a barn or storage shed, and of course hunting. Simonn, Bearl's earlier tormenter, was just telling a story about a hunt they were on some cycles past when he stopped talking abruptly. Berret noticed at the same time that all the men at the bar's attention was now riveted on the staircase leading up to the rooms. The Shrike turned in that direction to see Chiana standing on the last step of the stairway looking out over the common room. Berret's jaw literally dropped.
"Mother's mercy," Bearl muttered in awe and he then hastily yanked the woolen cap off his shaggy head. Several of the other men followed suit.
Chiana was dressed in a full-length dress made of a dark blue silk-like material. The skirts were full and billowed out from around her hips in graceful falls of shimmering material. The neckline was cut high and covered her to the throat while the sleeves ended in flares covering her arms to the wrist. Over one arm she had Berret's cloak draped. The dark blue color accented her pale gray skin and snow-white hair that had now almost grown down to her shoulders. She had been debating cutting it short again but Berret sort of liked it longer. Berret found her absolutely... stunning. She looked the part of a storybook princess. Orrella watched the men's reaction with amusement. As Berret left the bar to meet his bond-mate he heard the Inn owner say something about the louts finally having the manners to show some proper courtesy to a lady.
Chiana stepped down off the last step as Berret neared her.
"I thought you might need this," she said as she handed him his cloak. "Well? What do you think?" she asked next as she turned and modeled the dress for him briefly.
"I think you're beautiful," Berret replied.
Chiana blushed for a split microt and then said impishly, "I was talking about the dress."
"What dress?" Berret said with a mischievous grin of his own.
"You always know the right thing to say," Chiana cooed in pleasure. She almost leaped up to plant a kiss on her husband but remembered they were in public and smoothed out her skirts instead, playing the role of a proper lady. She looked passed Berret's shoulder to the group of people openly watching them. Seeing the odd looks on their faces, she recalled they couldn't follow their conversation in Nebari and they were probably wondering what the couple was talking about.
"Who are your new friends?" she asked the ex-assassin. She shifted her eyes in the direction of the bar to remind her bond-mate that they weren't alone, least he do something... un-knightly, such as take the kiss she almost gave him before catching herself.
She listened intently as Berret filled her in on the morning's happenings in the small village.
"I need help. She's been hurt."
Thinking the body he held could be that of a child because of its diminutive size, Orrella hurried out from behind her bar as another customer forced the door closed behind the man.
"Bring her over by the fire," she ordered briskly as she shooed several men away from that area to make room. The man nodded quickly and carried his bundle toward her. His armored boots thudding against the hardwood plank floors. "What happened?" she asked.
"We were in a... accident," the man said.
Orrella absently reconsidered her earlier assessment of the situation. "Your carriage wrecked on the road, did it?" she asked. That made sense also. The man was obviously a knight of some sort, even though his armor looked odd on closer inspection. He was probably escorting some Lady from a far away land and the carriage slid on the icy roadway. It had happened many times before as the fief's roads could become very treacherous in foul weather such as tonight.
"Something like that," the knight replied a moment later as he set his bundle gently down.
Orrella turned to one of her serving girls, "Lessa, get me some clean linen for bandaging and boil some water." The girl nodded her head smartly at her instructions and darted off to carry them out. The Inn owner glanced back at the knight. "Let me get a look at your Lady to see how badly she is injured," she told him as she unwrapped the cloak from around the woman's head.
Orrella's look of concern for the small figure turned to one of shock as the face was unwrapped, then transformed into one of horror as the pale gray skin, black lips, and hair as white as freshly fallen snow registered. Behind her, one of the patrons who was looking over her shoulder gasped and said,
"ShadowFolk!" The name sounding almost like a curse.
Another man, a woodsman, did curse out loud as Orrella backed away form the creature laying on the floor in front of her fire. The woodsman drew his short sword and moved forward with it raised over his head to dispatch the vile sprite. Alarmed, the knight spun to meet him. There was a sound of ringing metal and sparks flew as he swung one arm in a blur. The Woodman's short sword blade shattered from the impact, leaving him holding nothing but the haft and guard with a half-thumb length of blade still attached. He looked at his weapon and then back at the knight. There was now a pair of wickedly serrated blades protruding from the gauntlet on his right forearm... and hot anger in his eyes. The Woodsman dropped his broken sword and hurriedly backed away from the man. The knight let him retreat and spun back to face Orrella.
"Why did he do that? What's wrong with you people trying to kill a injured woman?" he demanded in barely contained fury.
Orrella looked at him in fear. "Why did you bring her here?" she asked in turn, the terror in her voice growing. "She's ShadowFolk. Nothing but evil and death follow those. You should have had enough sense to kill her when you came across her, Sir Knight."
"She is my Bond-mate. Not one of these ShadowFolk you fear so much," he replied hotly.
"Bond-mate?" broke in one of the patrons. "Hell's Gates! He's enthralled to her!"
Another man turned and said, "I'll run and get the Constable and his men." Before anyone could answer him, the man was out the Inn door leaving behind only a gust of cold air.
The knight got an annoyed look on his face. "I mean... she is my wife," he explained to the patrons. The others in the room looked shocked at the announcement. "And I will kill the next person who tries to harm her," he promised with glaring eyes.
The group didn't seems to be inclined to test out his threat further so Berret let the blades slowly slide back into his gauntlet armor. This seemed to impress them enough for them to want to keep their distance for the time being.
"I don't want any trouble. Just someplace warm where I can tend to my wife's injuries," he told them.
The young girl, Lessa, came back into the room carrying a small pot of hot water and several bundles of clean cloth. She paused with a small yelp as she saw the gray woman on the floor and almost dropped the pot. Berret caught it and thanked the girl even as she moved away to hide behind Orrella's apron. Patrons had been slipping out the door in a steady flow after Berret advised them that death would follow anyone who attempted to harm the white-haired female. It was just as well he thought to himself, it was less people to have to keep track of while he cared for Chiana. He reached into a belt pouch and removed one of the gems that he carried as a universal currency. He placed the Killrain Green Diamond on a near-by table.
"That should cover any inconvenience and loss of business we've caused. There'll be another when we leave," he told her and then began to tend Chiana's slight cuts and bruises with the warm water and white linen cloth.
Orrella picked up the diamond after Berret went back to looking after Chiana. She passed the gem to another man who looked at it with an appraising eye. After a few moments he passed it back.
"I have never seen anything like it. It has to be worth a small fortune," he said quietly. Orrella thanked him and placed the diamond safely into her apron pouch. Berret had opened the cloak up to inspect his Bond-mate again. He had given her a rough examination after he had carried her out of the crashed Transport Pod shortly after it exploded. As near as he could tell she had suffered no broken bones in the crash but he had no way of knowing if she had internal injuries and if she did, how bad they were as the med-kit had gone up with the Pod. There hadn't been time to do anything but grab the cataleptic Nebari woman and run for their lives.
She had a strong pulse, but the woman had been unconscious for the better part of almost two arns and the Shrike was deeply worried. He checked her over again and still found no obvious broken bones or abnormal swelling. He rewrapped the cloak about her small body afterwards and then brushed her growing hair off her forehead to feel for a temperature.
"Come on, Pixie. Please wake up," he murmured in Nebari as he lovingly stroked her cheek.
The people around him didn't understand the alien language he was speaking.
"You see! He speaks in unknown tongues to the creature. He's enspelled by her," whispered one old man.
"They say that ShadowFolk can only enthrall you when they are awake," said Orrella, watching the armoured man. "She is unconscious so her hold over the knight should have faded... unless he truly loves her."
"This still tastes of witchery. No good can come of this, Orrella."
"I don't know of many Darkworshippers who pay for services. Do you, Yana?" asked Orrella in return with a wary eye.
The door opened again letting in the sound of howling wind and Constable Inanta stamped his feet and brushed snow out of his graying hair and beard before asking in a great rumbling voice,
"Okay, Orrella. What's all this huboo about a ShadowFolk sprite being here? I swear to the Mother, you need to stop letting Pherely drink so much. He burst into my office with this tall tale of..." he broke off as patrons stepped aside and gave him a good look at the gray woman on the floor. "Holy Mother of Light!" he swore next while making a sign over his heart with one finger. Behind him, his two deputies who had followed him in also did a double take.
Berret rose to his feet to meet the men just as the man named Pherely broke through to the front of the crowd.
"You see!" exclaimed Pherely, excitedly pointing at Chiana and then at Berret. "There she is just as I told ya. And him there is her Thrall." One of the Deputies unslung a crossbow from over his shoulder and pointed it in Berret's direction as the Shrike firmly placed himself between Chiana and the lawmen.
"Hold on there, Sir Knight," said Inanta, holding up both his hands peacefully. "We're here to help you. The ShadowFolk woman obviously has you bespelled. You need to step aside and let us handle this and do what needs to be done before she awakes."
Berret crossed his arms and stubbornly cocked his head slightly to one side as he regarded the Constable and his men.
"For the last time. Chiana is my wife and not one of these ShadowFolk you keep referring too. I've paid for lodging here and none of you are going to lay a hand on her."
"You see, he protects her and claims they are wed," exclaimed Pherely again.
"I can hear him, Pherely," said Inanta in annoyance. "Go sit with the others while I handle this."
Pherely grumbled and slid off to watch with the rest of the remaining customers while the Constable turned to Orrella.
"Is it true he paid for lodging here?" he asked. Orella confirmed that Berret had. "Okay," said Inanta, "but that still leaves us the problem of the dark woman." He looked back at Berret, "She still needs to be destroyed despite what you believe. We can't have one of the ShadowFolk here in the settlement. Once she is gone and the spell is broken, you'll come to your senses."
Berret uncrossed his arms. "I don't want any trouble and as soon as she's well enough and the weather breaks we will be on our way," he said. "But I warn you... if anyone tries to harm my Bond-mate... I will kill them if they force me too."
"Careful, Constable!" cried Pherely. "He has blades hidden in his gauntlets. I saw them cut right through Pallath's sword like it wasn't even there."
"Easy, now," Inanta said. "One of my men is going to go over and gather the Shadow woman up. We'll take her outside and see to her. When it's over, you'll feel better and thank us for freeing you."
Berret frowned knowing that there was going to be no reasoning with these people. They had backed him into a corner and truly believed they were doing the right thing for all concerned. The deputy without the crossbow stepped forward toward Chiana at a gesture from Inanta. Berret let him come and as he walked in front of him, the Shrike released a straight punch directly into the man's solar plexus, driving the man backwards and the breath out of his lungs. The move was so fast and unexpected that the man holding the crossbow swore and fired his weapon before the Constable could order him to stop. The bolt with its iron-barbed tip sped at Berret's chest. Barely a hand-span away from its target, Berret snatched it out of the air with one hand. The Constable and crowd watched awe-struck as Berret regarded the crossbow bolt with silver-tinted eyes and then snapped the thick shaft in half using just the fingers of his hand.
He let the pieces fall to the floor at his feet as he turned his emotionless gaze to the lawman.
"Look at his eyes!" one of the patrons cried out.
"He is possessed by the ShadowFolk!" another added.
The man who Berret had punched gasped out, "No! I've heard stories... of knights who turn berserker in the midsts of battle, with eyes of fire! Only a warrior of legend could have caught a crossbow bolt such as he did."
"It's been a really long and bad day," he said as he moved toward the Constable and his men, ignoring the talk. "And I was hoping not to have to resort to violence but you're not leaving me much choice."
The man with the crossbow began franticly to try and re-cock the prod and load another bolt. The other two men backed away reaching for their short-swords as Berret strode threateningly forward. The blades of his right gauntlet brace snapped out once again and he swiped them upwards to cut through the heavy steel prod that powered the crossbow. With the sudden loss of one of its bow limbs, the weapon kicked back and knocked the deputy to the floor.
"Take it easy, good Knight," Inanta said, holding up empty hands having decided it best not to draw his weapon after all. Berret frowned and stepped menacingly forward anyway.
"THAT IS ENOUGH!" bellowed Orrella, pausing the men in their tracks before the combat could begin in earnest. "I will not have you silly men brawling in my Inn! If you insist on maiming each other... do so outside where you wouldn't mess my floors."
Berret backed away from the lawman, really not wishing to fight with the group anyway. He was much too concerned about Chiana to want to spare these men much of his attention. He held up the gauntlet so they could see him retracted the blades, and the silver slowly faded from his eyes as he forced himself to calm.
"I have no wish to harm anyone. I am only protecting my wife," he said to the constable. "We are not from around here and she is not one of these shadow people you fear. She's just a normal person of a different race, that's all. My eyes are simply a badge of my calling among my people," he explained, using their myths to help form a believable explanation for these natives. The ruse seem to pay off as several of the patrons began to mutter among themselves about how they have heard similar stories about far off lands and their inhabitants. However, their fear of the unconscious Chiana was still plainly evident.
Inanta gave him a fatherly look, obviously still believing that Berret was somehow being manipulated.
"Lad, I know you believe that. But she fits the description of the ShadowFolk. Everybody knows they have skin that's gray and as cold as death itself. Even her lips aren't normal; they're the color of something that's been dead for a long time. Please, lad. For your own good, you need to let us take care of her so you can be free of her spell."
Berret titled his head to one side as he regarded the man. "So you only have a description of what a ShadowFolk looks like? None of you have actually ever seen one?" Inanta blinked his eyes.
"Well... no. I never have myself," he said after a moment. "But my father claimed to have seen one when he was a lad."
The constable looked around the Inn but no one else could confirm ever having seen one either.
"So none of you can positively identify Chiana as one of these evil spirits, or confirm if she is, that I have been put under a spell?" asked Berret.
The people looked around the room at each other blanky. Orrella finally spoke up.
"There is one way to test to see if the knight has been enthralled," she said.
"How?" asked the Shrike, willing to do all most anything to end the situation so he could go back to caring for Chiana. Orrella begin digging under her heavy layers of clothing and eventually produced a round metal pendant on a crude chain from around her neck, and pulled it off over her head. She murmured something under her voice and pressed the object reverently to her lips. Walking over to Berret she held the medallion out.
"This is a holy relic blessed by the Light Mother. If you were enthralled to a ShadowFolk, you wouldn't be able to hold this in your hands. It would burn you as being unclean of soul, nor would you be able to speak the Light Mother' name," she explained. "If you be free of spirit or gleam, take it in your hands now and swear so."
Berret moved forward and took the disk from her, making sure that they saw it resting in his bare fingers and not on his armored half-glove.
"I swear to you and to your Light Mother that my will is my own... and that no dark forces control me," Berret vowed and then for good measure pressed the pendant against his lips just as Orrella earlier had.
Orrella took back her charm. "I believe him. The Old Mother herself gave the pendant to me. Nothing of the dark could bear its touch."
Berret nodded his thanks. "Now that I trusted you and passed your test, I would like you to trust me and do something I ask," he said. Orrella looked a little wary.
"What's that?" she asked.
"I simply want you to confirm with your own senses that my wife is just another living person," he said as he walked the Innkeeper over to the prone Chiana. The woman looked like she would balk but with the other people in the room watching her, she dare not show any lack of faith after confirming Berret passed her test. The Shrike knelt down besides his bond-mate and Orrella went down besides him. He again lovingly stroked the Nebari girl's cheek and then gently took one of Orrella's hands and ran it down the same gray skin.
"You see? Nothing to be scared of. Just warm living flesh... nothing dead," Berret told her.
Orrella looked at the girl in awe and then moved her fingers down to her neck. "Yes, warm like you or me," she said. "I can feel her heartbeat." Orrella looked back up at Berret. "I hardly would have thought to believe that she was anything other then a Shadowfolk. Please forgive me."
Berret nodded his head that all could be forgiven but he still looked around the room at the rest of the patrons and the lawmen with some concern. Orrella turned back to the girl, Lessa, and then ordered,
"Run and fetch the Old Mother. Tell her we have an injured woman here and to bring her medicines," she told the girl. The girl stood wide-eyed for a moment and Orrella barked at her to break her from the trance the gray woman held her in.
"Go! Off with you girl for' I lay my hand to your silly backside," Orrella scolded her. The girl tore off, pausing only to throw on a heavy cloak before scurrying out the Inn's front door on her errand.
Berret sat back on his heels and eyed the Constable and his men warily. Inanta looked from the Shrike back to the Inn owner.
"So what you're telling us now is that that woman is no danger?" he asked Orrella.
"No, I don't believe so now," the woman replied distractedly while she looked over Chiana further. For good measure she placed her pendant against one of Chiana's hands. When the gray flesh didn't burn, she nodded to herself and replaced the relic back around her neck.
Inanta adjusted his heavy coat. "Well, than... if your certain everything is fine and you're willing to let them stay in your Inn, my deputies and I will be one our way."
Orrella turned to face him long enough to answer, "The good knight paid for lodging for his ill wife and himself. We'll have no further trouble here. Thank you for coming out in this weather, Inanta."
The Constable nodded his head as if to say that it was all in a day's work when Pherely spoke up from his place at the bar.
"You can't just go and leave her here! She'll be a curse on this village I tell you!" he exclaimed excitedly. Orrella frowned deeply but before she could take her patron to task, the lawman stepped in.
"Now hush yourself, Pherely!" he admonished in a strict voice that would bode no argument. "It's Orrella's place and its her call as to whom may stay and who has to go." The big man placed both fist on his hips as he regarded the excited bar customer. Inanta screwed up his face as if something just occurred to him and then said, "As a matter of fact, I believe it was time you were heading back to your home. Your wife must be waiting up for you and the hour is getting late. I can already tell you've had more then your fair fill of ale tonight."
Inanta took Pherely by one arm and escorted him toward the door to join his waiting deputies. Pherely looked as if he wanted to protest some more, but a deep frown from the Constable made him change his mind. Meekly he stood with Inanta's men waiting for the lawman to finish saying goodnight.
Orrella gave Inanta a quick look of thanks for taking Pherely off her hands. She had enough to deal with concerning the gray woman and the strange knight who claimed he was her husband without having to deal with Pherely stirring up more trouble among her few remaining other patrons.
After the lawmen left with their unwilling escort, the tension in the Inn abated a bit though some of the other patron ducked out probably believing that it was best not to take the chance that the gray female wasn't an evil spirit despite Orrella's tests. Berret had just settled in enough to relax somewhat when the Inn's door opened again and a woman who would have given the Delvian Grandmaster Shenna a good run for the oldest creature he'd ever seen, hobbled in.
"Good Eve, Old Mother," said Orrella with more then just a touch of respect in her voice for the old woman. "Thank you for coming so quickly and on such a fridged night like tonight."
The old woman waved her off with a smile. "Its no bother, Orrella," she said in a voice wore rough from age. "That's what I'm here for and at my age I look forward to being called out. It gives my old bones something to do besides sit by my fire." The woman looked around the room until her eyes landed on Berret who knelt protectively over his bond-mate. "Little Lessa tells me you have some interesting company."
"Yes, Old Mother. This knight and his good wife where in a carriage accident," Orrella explained.
"I see," said the Healer as she hobbled closer to the pair before the fireplace. "Move aside, lad... and let old Helena have a look-see at your woman."
Berret reluctantly moved to one side so the old woman could get at the Nebari woman. Helena's kneels popped audibly as she knelt down beside the prone woman.
"By the light, I thought the girl was fibbing," exclaimed the Healer with a dry chuckle. "The lass do look like she belongs of the Shadowfolk. As she poked and prodded the unconscious Nebari, Orrella dutifully told the older woman of the tests she administered before she arrived. Helena grunted her agreement and approval when the Innkeeper finished her report and then pried one of Chiana's eyes opened.
"Lights, but her eyes are so dark you can barely tell if they shy from the firelight," she muttered to herself. The woman then dug through bag of herbs and handed several items to Orrella with instructions to boil them into a broth tea. Helena then turned her attention to the tall man next to her.
"Help me up, would you kind Knight?" she asked Berret. The Shrike offered her his hand and helped her to her feet again. The old woman gave Berret a strange look and then asked,
"Did you carry your Lady far in this weather?"
"Yes, quite a distance," Berret answered, unsure why the woman would need to ask the question of him.
Before he could stop her, Helena placed one wrinkled hand against his forehead and then ran in down the sides of his face. "How do you feel?" she then asked.
"Fine," the Shrike answered.
"You feel no chills?"
"None."
The old woman shook her head. "You will soon," she said in a tone that left no room for doubt. "You've caught a good chill tonight. Drink some of the broth Orrella will bring your Lady. She's taken a good knock to the head but I don't think she's broken anything. It's this cold that drains the health from a body. In these parts it has a way of sneaking up on the unwary and robbing them of their vim. Have Orrella keep her warm and spoon some of the broth tea down her, as much as you can. Come morning she should be up and about."
"Thank you," said Berret. He drew another crystal from his pouch and attempted to pay the woman for her service. The Healer shook her head and refused the payment.
"Thank you, Sir Knight," she said and than squinted her eye as she regarded him. "No disrespected... But even though you wear armor, I don't think you are a knight. Are you?"
"Not in the sense I think you mean, Old Mother. No," the Shrike answered.
"You're an honest lad, I give you that. Most young men mistaken for a knight might be tempted to abuse the privilege. Many a fair country maid have fallen to fast talking charlatans," Helena told him. "You're no commoner and I can see you're no stranger to death. You have that pail about you that says you've seen more blood spilt then you care to remember."
Berret reminded silent, becoming a little un-nerved that the old medicine woman was able to read him so well in just a short time. His discomfort must have shown as the woman padded his arm in reassurance.
"Fear not, laddie. Whatever secrets you hold are yourn' to keep. It's just not often you meet a dangerous man who has been tamed," Helena continued on with a smile that revealed very few teeth left in her mouth.
She nodded toward Chiana asleep on the floor. "It was she that caught ya and settled your heart?"
Berret looked at his bond-mate. "Yes... she makes me a better person," he admitted.
The old woman cackled out loud and poked him teasingly in the ribs. Despite the armor covering the area, Berret found himself involuntarily flinching from the tease like a child.
"I thought so," she said. "I was always a slack-wit for a good love story." She leaned in closer to Berret as if to confide a deep secret. "In my younger days, I turned more than a few men from their wild ways," she said with a wink. "You both be good to each other. The time passes quicker than ya knows." She began stuffing items and pouches back into her bag. "If you still feel the need to pay me, you can leave a donation with Orrella toward my supply bill. It goes against the Light Mother's teachings to charge to heal the sick."
"Thank you. I will do that then," answered Berret.
The old woman hitched up her bag over one shoulder and nodded to Berret.
"You be sure to drink down as much of the broth as you can tonight to fight off the chills, otherwise you'll be deathly sick come morning and you'll have to call for me again," she told him.
Berret told her he would follow her instructions and idly wonder what the Healer would say if she knew about his microbe augmentation. He almost dismissed the idea of drinking her potion then decided that given the habit of his microbes to protect him against some sicknesses and then totally leave him to the mercy of some simple forms of illness such as a common cold - it might be best to err on the side of caution this time and take his medicine so to speak.
Helena patted his arm again as she went to the door and muttered something about how love can change anything. She gave him one last parting smile and then began quietly singing a love song to herself in a croaking voice as she walked out the Inn door.
Berret shook his head slightly and wondered why all the old people he'd met in his life seemed so eccentric.
Orrella helped Berret spoon-feed some of the broth into Chiana without having the Nebari woman gag too much in the process. The Innkeeper showed the ex-assassin the room she had set aside for him and his bond-mate but Berret elected not to move Chiana from beside the warmth of the fireplace for the moment. Instead, Orrella had one of her workers bring down a mattress and the Shrike placed his wife on it to make her more comfortable. A few arns later, Orrella chased her few remaining customers out for the night. The Inn owner frowned slightly as she realized the amount of business she'd lost that evening due to Berret and Chiana's sudden appearance. To make up for her loss, the Shrike gave her another diamond crystal and an additional one to go toward Helena's supply bill. With the Inn closed for the night, Berret felt safe enough to remove most of his armor. However, he left on his blade braces in case some of the villagers took it into their heads to try and surprise them sometime during the night.
Orrella and her staff had retired to their rooms several arns ago and Berret sat propped up in a chair watching over his wife and occasionally feeding the fire to keep her warm. He found himself staring off into the flickering flames sometime in the middle of the night when Chiana's moan brought him fully alert. He was at her bedside in an instant; the Nebari woman rolled her head weakly from side to side as she fought her way toward consciousness.
"Pixie?" Berret asked in a whisper as he stroked her face. "Chiana?"
Chiana's dark eyes fluttered open and she looked around in mild confusion. Her eyes found him in the semi-light of the fire.
"Are we dead?" she asked in a raspy voice.
Berret shook his head. "Not yet," he said with a small tight smile. "How do you feel?" he asked.
"I've been better," Chiana replied. "I don't think anything's broken. I just have a headache and I'm thirsty."
Berret reached over to the warming pot next to them and poured her a mug of the broth. Holding her head up, he helped her drink.
"Where are we?" Chiana then asked as Berret eased her head back down on the pillow.
"We crash landed on a small planet just passed the Peacekeeper defense satellite that shot us down."
"How bad's the Pod?"
Berret shook his head again, "Totally destroyed. The fuel cells exploded shortly after impact. I was barely able to get you out in time before they went up. I wasn't able to save anything else." Berret visibly swallowed as he relived those few terrifying microns. "I thought I'd lost you," he confessed.
Chiana saw the fear of losing her in his eyes and smiled up comfortingly at her husband.
"Hey," she said as she reached up to brush his face with the tips of her fingers, "You can't get rid of me that easy. So how bad is it? Where are we now?"
Berret sat down besides in wife to be closer to her. "Well, I managed to find us shelter. This planet has a primitive civilization of a sort. I estimate that they are somewhere between a Medieval and early industrial stages. No space flight, of course. They speak a sort of bastardization of early Sebacean but I hear hints of S'Aqualian and Norressi accents in their language."
Chiana nodded, knowing the microbe technology her husband possessed allowed him to hear and copy fine details of different languages. With the standard translator microbes most beings including herself were injected with simply made her hear another person speak in Nebari... that is, as long as the other being's language was programmed into her microbes she would hear Nebari. If the language weren't, she would need to have another injection with the proper microbes to understand them. Berret's translator microbes were a bit more complicated and allowed him to tell the differences in languages and copy accents. It was more or less just another tool for use in the assassin's trade. She's asked him before to explain how he perceived their friends talking to him and he told her he wasn't sure what language he was speaking in half the time even though when she heard him talking to others, the conversation was always in Nebari as far as she was concerned. He described the feeling of talking with others as a change in tempo, tone, and accent depending on whom he was talking to. He could say the exact same thing to several of their crewmates and it would feel different to him each time. Hello to Crichton would feel different from saying hello to Aeryn and Andar, and different from Malika and Zhaan. Berret found it hard to put into words for Chiana and he said it just got to the point where he didn't try and figure out what he was doing when he spoke and just accepted it. One sure thing is, being able to copy locate dialects had come in handy on several occasions when Berret had to pass himself off as a native. Chiana also knew that she probably wasn't going to be able to talk to any of the natives here, as their speech probably wasn't programmed into her microbes if it was an old tongue. It wouldn't do her much good if it were in any event, as the natives wouldn't have microbes of their own to understand Nebari. Chiana reached up to touch her bond-mate's face, glad that except for some almost healed scratches he was all right. As her fingertips brushed his skin again she felt his body's unusual warmth. Placing her palm against his cheek, she confirmed her first impression.
"You're too warm," she said to him. Berret caught her hand and squeezed it slightly and smiled over her sudden concern.
"It's just a slight fever. Nothing to worry about," he told her.
"Are you sure? You normally don't get sick," Chiana asked.
Berret nodded again. "It's something to do with the weather here. The inhabitants make a tea out of herbs to counteract it. That's what I just gave you and I had some earlier. Their healer says we will be fine in the morning." The Nebari took her husband at his word and hoped he was right. She put those thoughts aside for the moment as she thought of something of more immediate importance.
"Do you think the others will be able to find us?"
Berret shrugged his shoulder. "I don't know," he admitted. "I ejected a distress buoy just before our orbit decayed. If it picks up Moya's plexxing beacon on a search pattern, it should switch on and warn them of the defense satellite and give them our position. The Aeryn and Malika can go in with the Prowlers and destroy the satellite before they send a Pod in to pick us up."
The Nebari woman nodded and didn't comment anymore. She adjusted her position on the mattress and half crawled onto her bond-mate's lap to lean against him. Berret wrapped his arms around her and was thrilled to have her hug him back after the arns of worry he just went through.
Chiana stared into the fire for a while and then asked in idle curiosity, "What do these people look like?"
"Like Sebaceans," Berret muttered distractedly in response as he stroked her hair.
Chiana stiffened as a thought struck her. She remembered a few occasions on primitive planets where she looked different then the normal populace... and things hadn't gone too well for her back then. She lifted her head to look at her husband in alarm.
"If these people are a pre-space flight civilization, how did you explain me to them?" she asked in worry.
Berret assured her that everything was fine for the moment and got her to lay her head back down on his chest. He started to stroke Chiana's hair once again as he said,
"That... is a very long story. But it can wait until the morning."
Anyone else and Chiana would have demanded the details right then. However, she trusted her bond-mate without doubt, so she relaxed against him and enjoyed the feel of his hand running over her hair, letting the dancing fire in the hearth make her eyes heavy with sleep.
"Sir Berret?"
Berret eyes slowly opened as the voice called his name. He was confused and groggy with sleep as he finally realized Orrella was standing over him lightly touching his shoulder. Idly he wondered how the woman had gotten so close to him without waking him, but then he decided he must have been more exhausted then he had originally thought.
"Yes, Mistress Orrella?" Berret replied as he wiped sleep from his eyes. In his lap, Chiana stirred at the voices and stretched like a Sebacean Floxx-cat. As she opened her dark eyes, Orrella took a cautious step back away from the couple.
"I see your Lady must have awakened during the night. I was just wondering if the two of you would like to break your fasts before I open the Inn?" the Innkeeper asked, openly curious about Chiana.
The Nebari girl gave the other woman a friendly smile trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. She rested her head contentedly back against Berret's chest while reaching around his chest to hug him.
"Good morning," she murmured.
Berret replied in kind and the Nebari cracked in eye back open to regard him. "What did our host say?" she inquired. Berret told her about the offer for breakfast and Chiana responded eagerly at the idea.
Berret chuckled good-naturedly at his bond-mate.
"Now I know you're perfectly fine if you're not turning your nose up at food," he exclaimed.
Chiana absently slapped at his chest. "Be quiet!" she said mockingly.
Orrella was watching the pair with unconcealed interest as they spoke in the incomprehensible tongue. After the gray woman frowned and swatted at the knight for something he said to her, the man turned and told her they would be grateful for something to eat. The Innkeeper ambled back into the kitchen a little more at ease with the situation. Even though she couldn't understand a word the couple was saying to each other it was obvious they were wed. The way the gray woman didn't hesitate to put the man in his place left no doubt in her mind about that. All men, wither highborn knights or the lowest common folk, needed a strong woman to keep them in their places and out of trouble. It was good to know that even in foreign lands, some things will always be the same she thought with a knowing grin. There was one thing that struck her as odd now that she thought of it. She could have sworn that the man's face had been scratched up last night from the accident they'd had. Now it appeared as if nothing at all had happened to him. Maybe she had been mistaken about his injuries or it had simply been just dirt she thought were scratches. Another thing that occurred to her was that the man's strange accent had faded. He spoke now as if he'd lived in this area all his life. Orrella frowned at herself for worrying about something so silly. Many people spoke more that one language as was obvious with the knight. She had heard that some people could speak other regional dialects flawlessly under normal conditions but under stress, such as a carriage wreck and having to carry your spouse an untold distance in bad weather might cause, their command of the second language might falter a bit and they make mistakes... like allowing an accent to creep in. She smiled satisfied with herself for having logically explained her new guests. After all, she considered herself an intelligent civilized woman, not some uneducated superstitious backwoods female - Thank the Light Mother.
Berret strapped on his armor before joining Chiana at the table for breakfast. As the couple ate, Orrella's staff cleaned up the mattress the Nebari had spent the night on and straightened up the Inn's common room before it was to be opened to the public for business. The Shrike caught the workers occasional glancing at Chiana out of the corner of their eyes while they worked; Chiana also caught the attention and did her best to try to appear normal. Berret had given her his cloak to wear over her usual outfit after Orrella pointed out privately that Chiana was showing a bit more skin that was normally acceptable in good company. The Innkeeper promised to find the Nebari something more appropriate to wear during their stay. Berret thanked the woman after offering an apology for the slight transgression of local custom. He further went on to offer an explanation that they haled from a warmer climate and it was common for people to wear less clothing to keep cool. Orrella seemed to buy the story and shuffled away to tend the employees in her kitchen. Chiana asked what the discussion had been about and after her bond-mate filled her in she regarded Berret with a look of mischief. If they had been in any other situation, Berret suddenly had the feeling that his wife would have stripped all her clothing off in public just for the shock value. Under the current circumstances he was glad she decided to behave herself and curtailed her relish for causing trouble.
After breakfast, they went to their rented room and true to her word; Orrella had several dresses laid out on the bed for Chiana to try on. To Berret's surprise, Chiana gushed over the heavy dresses. He'd originally thought his wife would grumble and complain about having to wear clothing that was so... covering.
To his further amusement, she threw him out of the room so she could try them on alone. Berret shook his head in bewilderment as she closed the door behind him and headed back downstairs to the common room. A few customers where already at the bar, instead of ale this time, their mugs appeared to be filled with some steaming beverage. The quiet murmur of conversation stopped when he entered the room. A few of the patrons craned their necks to look behind him, probably wondering if Chiana was following him.
After it was obvious he was alone, they turned back to their discussions as Berret made his way over to a clear space at the bar. Orrella happened to be behind it drying glassware while Lessa served the customers their drinks.
"Oh, Sir Berret," the Innkeeper said, "Would you like a mug of Kl'ash this morning?"
"Why not," said Berret with a tiny shrug of his shoulders. He had no idea what Kl'ash was but he saw no harm in giving the local drink a try. Orrella set a mug down in front of him and filled the cup herself from a nearby pot.
"Did your Lady like the dresses I had sent to your room?" she inquired.
"Yes, thank you," said Berret after tasting the beverage. It sort of reminded him of a drink he'd had a few weekens ago on a commerce planet Moya had laid over at. John and Sean had both insisted that it tasted like something called cinnamon on Earth. "She's in the room now trying them on," he continued. "That's why I'm down here," he added with a mock frown that only touched part of his lips.
Orrella smiled. "A woman needs her private time to make herself presentable," she said. "You must be newly wed not to already know that."
Berret smiled back at the woman, realizing she had the upper hand in the conversation. "Yes," he admitted, "we were married only recently."
Orrella chuckled and patted his hand motherly, "Don't worry. She'll teach you what you have to know."
The Innkeeper moved on to tend a few of her other customers. After a few microns a number of the other men approached Berret. After apologizing for disturbing him they asked from which direction he had come and if he had seen signs of any game animals in his journey. Berret doubted the men would travel far enough to find the crashed Pod and even if they did it most likely had burned down into something unrecognizable by now. He asked for them to describe what a track of a local game animal looked like. After they did, he informed that that he had seen several signs of herds on the walk there. He did his best to describe the areas and the men quickly zeroed in on the places. They thanked him and asked if he'd care to accompany them on a hunting trip that day. They seemed to think it would be a special occasion to have a "knight" with them on the hunt. One of the group, the man Pherely from the night before, didn't look as if he would consider having Berret along as a special occasion.
Berret thanked them for the offer but said he would have to think about it and see if his wife was feeling up to being left alone. A large man who introduced himself as Bearl, the village blacksmith, slapped Berret across the shoulder and said slyly that he understood as he was a married man also. The other men laughed at the comment and then descended into great belly laughs when another man pointed out that Bearl's wife was even larger then him and that it was in his own best interest to ask his wife for permission to go hunting. Bearl threw a good-natured insult back at his tormenter and the man shot back that Bearl was just mad because his wife was also the better blacksmith. Berret found himself relaxing with the men as they talked. They were a simple people, without such worries like Peacekeepers or Scarrans. Their concerns settled mostly about their farms, their crops, who needed help raising a barn or storage shed, and of course hunting. Simonn, Bearl's earlier tormenter, was just telling a story about a hunt they were on some cycles past when he stopped talking abruptly. Berret noticed at the same time that all the men at the bar's attention was now riveted on the staircase leading up to the rooms. The Shrike turned in that direction to see Chiana standing on the last step of the stairway looking out over the common room. Berret's jaw literally dropped.
"Mother's mercy," Bearl muttered in awe and he then hastily yanked the woolen cap off his shaggy head. Several of the other men followed suit.
Chiana was dressed in a full-length dress made of a dark blue silk-like material. The skirts were full and billowed out from around her hips in graceful falls of shimmering material. The neckline was cut high and covered her to the throat while the sleeves ended in flares covering her arms to the wrist. Over one arm she had Berret's cloak draped. The dark blue color accented her pale gray skin and snow-white hair that had now almost grown down to her shoulders. She had been debating cutting it short again but Berret sort of liked it longer. Berret found her absolutely... stunning. She looked the part of a storybook princess. Orrella watched the men's reaction with amusement. As Berret left the bar to meet his bond-mate he heard the Inn owner say something about the louts finally having the manners to show some proper courtesy to a lady.
Chiana stepped down off the last step as Berret neared her.
"I thought you might need this," she said as she handed him his cloak. "Well? What do you think?" she asked next as she turned and modeled the dress for him briefly.
"I think you're beautiful," Berret replied.
Chiana blushed for a split microt and then said impishly, "I was talking about the dress."
"What dress?" Berret said with a mischievous grin of his own.
"You always know the right thing to say," Chiana cooed in pleasure. She almost leaped up to plant a kiss on her husband but remembered they were in public and smoothed out her skirts instead, playing the role of a proper lady. She looked passed Berret's shoulder to the group of people openly watching them. Seeing the odd looks on their faces, she recalled they couldn't follow their conversation in Nebari and they were probably wondering what the couple was talking about.
"Who are your new friends?" she asked the ex-assassin. She shifted her eyes in the direction of the bar to remind her bond-mate that they weren't alone, least he do something... un-knightly, such as take the kiss she almost gave him before catching herself.
She listened intently as Berret filled her in on the morning's happenings in the small village.