Why is Ayrel more powerful than Shana? Well, it does have something to do
in part with the fact that she's a wingly, but also, when you think about
it Shana never made an attempt to consciously use her powers. Everything
just happened spontaneously, and uncontrolled. Shana might have been quite
powerful- if she'd ever bothered to sit down and figure out how to use them
properly. Since Ayrel's had the fact that she's the Moon Child waved in her
face since she was born, she's come to embrace the facts and is able to
say, "Hey, guess what! I'm a goddess! Fear and revere me!"
Zion's POV:
I slept for most of the rest of the day and the entire night, waking only long enough to go upstairs for a meal before retreating back under the sheets of my bed. Tabby followed me around like a little rosy-cheeked puppy whenever I rose, trailing her rag doll along behind her by one arm. I think that she was afraid that I would run off again when her back was turned, poor thing. Climbing up onto a chair beside me while I ate, she watched me closely, scolding me in a mock-motherly tone when I didn't chew each bite fifteen times before swallowing. Once I was finished eating I was herded back down the hall, Tabby poking me in the side with a pudgy little finger whenever I pretended to stop or turn around, to the hatch that led down to my room. After assuring the little girl three or four times that I was much too tired to go running around Serdio tonight I climbed back down the ladder and flopped back onto the cot.
My sleep that night was a restless one. Tossing and muttering, I was kept awake until well after midnight by the thunder rolling overhead and the wind shrieking through the streets. The storm was a slow moving one, but a storm in every sense of the word. 'Hurricane' was probably a better way to describe it. Rolling over onto my stomach, I buried my head underneath a pillow. There'd be repairs to do on the roof tomorrow for sure. When sleep finally did come it was punctuated with odd dreams about prizefighting where I was pitted against impossible opponents; armed only with my fists and a ball of incandescent fire that burned me more often than it burned the enemy.
When I woke the next morning I was sandy-eyed and none too refreshed, but at least most of my exhaustion was gone. Lighting the lamp, I sat on the edge of my cot rubbing my eyes and trying to bring the room into focus. The fat tallow candle guttered inside its glass flue, its feeble light not reaching the shadows in the other corners of the room. From somewhere in the city above I could hear the temple bells tolling the seventh hour, their mournful tones reminding me of funeral bells. Without thinking my fingers went to the scars that marred the left side of my face. Funeral bells. How fitting.
I spent the next hour or so whetting and polishing the nicks and scars out of my sword blade. There were a great many; almost too much for comfort. Picking up an oily cloth, I frowned at the red marks staining the blood channel that ran three quarters the length of the blade and set to work. This sword had lasted me six years and counting: a rare stretch of time for any weapon. It had been a good-bye gift from my brother before he had left on one of the temple's ill-fated crusades into the forgotten lands to the far east.
I reversed the sword and examined the hard brown leather strapping on the hilt. It was beginning to wear through; here and there the leather was chafed so thin that grooves appeared to have been worn into the hilt. I would have to ask Remmy if she would replace it.
The few soldiers that had returned from the campaigns told wide-eyed stories of dragons descending upon the temple's army from the skies in a bath of blood and fire. The elements themselves had been torn apart in the slaughter; the ground breaking asunder and exploding from underneath their feet; floods breaking loose without warning and drowning the steel armored dread knights as they retreated. But then again, you can never fully trust the stories of survivors. Everything always manages to become blown out of proportion. I mean, dragons? Seriously.
Remmy was waiting for me in the kitchen when I went upstairs, hanging a pot of broth on one of the iron hooks that swung out over the fire. As I came into the kitchen she turned around, wiping her hands on an already floury apron. "There you are, Zion. I was just about to come down and wake you up for breakfast." She bustled over to the scrubbed wooden table, ladling some porridge into a blue-rimmed pottery bowl. "Go on, eat up. I was already out to the market this morning, but I want you to pick up some beef from the butchers for me. And I'm starting to run a bit low on flour again. Oh, and while you're at it-"
Picking a stray raisin out of my porridge, I flicked it away, idly wondering what the woman had picked up at the market this morning. Very little, by the sound of it. Or at least, nothing heavy. Beef, flour, salt, potatoes, oh, and if she was going to repair my sword hilt later on she was going to need some leather. The list went on. With her words still rattling around in my head, I strapped my sword across my back and headed out into the street.
The streets were ankle deep mud, mixed with deep puddles the size of small ponds. Cutting through the alley next to the tavern, I retraced my route from yesterday back to the stables. There was no way I was about to carry eighty pounds of foodstuff and my sword through this cesspool. I suppose that I could have left my blade at home, but I had suspicions about what an off-duty dread knight might try to do if he caught me alone in the streets unarmed.
Reaching the stable, I hammered on the back door until it was answered by one of the stable boys. The far section of the stable appeared to have been flooded in the storm; most of the animals had been moved to higher, dryer stalls. Taking my horse from his stall and throwing on his tack, I led him out onto the soupy street a few minutes later. Swinging up into the high cantled saddle, I picked up the reins and started off through the maze of back streets and alleys towards the market on the main street.
A light drizzle was falling from the leaden skies but a handful of people still hustled from shop to shop, ignoring the rain. They walked quickly with their cloaks pulled tightly around them, carrying bags or baskets full of their goods. Here and there the city guardsmen stood watch, some chatting good-naturedly with gloomy street vendors. Others regarded the foreign men and woman hawking their goods with suspicion. One guard didn't bother to hide his suspicion; seated on a barrel across the street from one such vendor, he caressed his spear as he watched. The man running the booth did his best to avoid looking at the guard, but his movements were jerky and nervous.
I shook my head as I rode past. The man had shock white hair and pale blue eyes: a half-wingly, most likely. In the northern countries relations are comfortable between humans and winglies, but the idea had never seemed to catch hold here in Kazas. Save for the Moon Child and her family, most winglies were held in suspicion. Half bloods had it worse, because no one could ever be sure where their loyalties lie. Or what they were capable of. I had never believed in this myself, but the general attitude of the city was as such. Feeling the gaze of one of the guardsmen on me, I moved on quickly.
The butcher's was a blocky two story building on a street corner, its whitewashed stone walls splattered with mud. A brightly painted wooden sign hung over the doorway stating the owner's name and the date of establishment underneath a picture of a butchering knife. It swung back and forth slightly now, buffered by the occasional gusts of wind that came whistling down the street and over the rooftops. Dismounting, I tethered my horse to one of the wooden hitching posts outside and stepped onto the doorstep. Squeezing the rusty latch, I pushed the heavy oaken door open and went inside.
The man standing behind the counter looked up as I entered. "Ah, Zion. Haven't seen you through here lately." Tall and balding with shoulders like a blacksmith, Gil Haberman looked better suited to wrestling with bulls than butchering them. "What have you been up to?"
"Been out of town chasing prizes again." I shrugged; examining the slabs and sides of meat hung from the ceiling on iron hooks. "I didn't miss anything while I was gone, did I?"
Wiping his hands on his stained apron, Gil hooked his thumbs into his belt. "A couple of brawls in that tavern across from Remmy's. Don't worry," He told me as I started to open my mouth, "No one even came near the place. I don't think they wanted to chance the fact that you might have been home."
I grunted and rubbed my eyes. "Just as well. You wouldn't happen to have a side of beef in the cold room, would you?"
While Gil went to check, I slumped down into a wooden chair pushed against the far wall and closed my eyes. I opened them again almost immediately as two woman dressed in the livery of temple servants entered the room, letting in a blast of chilly air as the door opened and closed. They were deep in conversation, and didn't appear to notice my presence.
"The pigeon came in this morning just as the storm was beginning to ebb off. I'm amazed that little bird made it through in that gale."
The second woman clicked her tongue. "Details, Alice. You've gone on and on about that message, but you haven't told me what it said yet. How did you chance to read it anyhow?"
Alice waved her hand impatiently. "I was serving the high priest breakfast in his rooms when Wan brought the message. Apparently there was a little town up in the mountains attacked yesterday during the afternoon. It looks as though that demon was trying to kill the Holy Moon Child."
The other woman's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, for the love of Soa! Is the Child all right? What happened?"
"According to the message she's fine, but the village was destroyed. There's not much more than a crater left. A few survived, but they're in rough shape." Alice wiped her forehead. "Fortunately, the Holy Moon Child managed to drive the Monster off before he could do any more damage," she said her voice carrying a note of wonder.
"What? What do you mean-" She cut off abruptly, staring at me as though seeing me for the first time. Her mouth snapped shut, and for a moment the two of them glowered at me as though I was a disgusting rodent before gathering their shawls about their shoulders and sweeping out the door.
Gil came out of the cold room, heavy bladed knife in hand, just in time to see them leave. "What happened to them?"
"They saw me." I replied sourly, getting up out of my chair. Why of all times did they have to notice me then, just when the news was getting interesting? Oh well, by afternoon the rumors would be flying around the town thicker than a flock of sparrows. I was bound to catch the rest of it sooner or later. "So, what about the beef?"
The temple bells were tolling the eleventh hour I was making my way slowly back through the streets on foot, leading my horse. Remmy's groceries were tied tightly to the saddle, covered and protected from the drizzle by a heavy burlap tarp. Grumbling to myself about having to slog through the mud rather than ride, I pulled to one side as a carriage rattled by. People had finally begun to filter out of their homes and were going about their daily business. Vendors stumped about carrying their goods in trays handing from their shoulders, calling out their business in loud, hoarse voices. People bobbed in and out of buildings burdened down with bolts of cloth and baskets of fruit. I paid these shops no mind for the most part, but as I passed one particular squat stone building I stopped, suddenly very aware of the fact that I hadn't had a real drink in several days.
I bit my lip, looking around. I couldn't exactly tie my horse to the hitching posts and go in for a drink now that I had loaded him with goods. And since I had been banned from The Cradle, the tavern near by Remmy's, for fighting, there was no where close to home where I could pick up a drink. Maybe if I could find a porter, then I could send the groceries back to the house and stay behind for a drink. That seemed to be the best course of action. Still holding the reins, I climbed onto the cement slab in front of the tavern and peered up and down the street, looking for a kid that might be willing to take on the job. People of every description milled about in the street, but very few children moved through the crowd. Starting to give up on the idea of a cold beer, I jumped back onto the muddy street and checked the girth of the saddle. Satisfied that it was secure, I glanced down the street once more.
I almost didn't notice him at first, what with the crowd shifting constantly. But as I scanned the street more slowly, I picked out a man dressed in a long black coat talking to a man selling apples about a hundred feet back up the road. The merchant appeared to say something, then he gestured up the road in my direction. The second man turned and looked straight at me, meeting my gaze for a moment before turning away. Nodding his head, Ry passed something to the merchant and then disappeared into the crowd.
Biting back an oath, I wrapped the reins around my fist and started to drag the horse down the street. So he had followed me here after all. Shouldering an old man to one side, I ignored his curses as I hurried past. I might be able to lose him in the back streets, but once I got out of the crowd I would loose my only cover. What did he want? If it was the winnings, why hadn't he taken them and left me for the dead two nights ago?
Turning down first one side street and then another, I made my decision. I didn't really want to have to kill him; the temple had heavy penalties for anyone that they could connect to a murder, and no one would hesitate to put my head on the block. But if I could lure him into one of the alleys, I might be able to scare him off before he tried anything stupid. Risking a glance back over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a black amongst the thin trickle of people walking along the road. I smiled to myself; whoever he was, this Ry fellow wasn't very good at shadowing people. Turning down a narrow avenue I jerked on my horse's head, urging him into a shuffling trot. A grid of several narrow alleys, interconnected with one another, branched off the road; picking the closest one, I headed into the end of it. A second alley ran along the back of the buildings, creating a giant 'L' shape. Leading my horse out of sight around the bend, I tied him to an old crate before pulling my sword from its sheath and returning to the corner. Safely hidden from view, I waited.
I wasn't kept waiting long. I had hardly been standing there for a minute before my ears caught the sound of footsteps coming down the alley. I shifted my grip on the hilt of my sword and rested it against my shoulder. I would have to be quick about this, to try to avoid an outcry; maybe if I could knock him out-
Springing out around the corner, I swung down hard in an overhand blow with the flat of my blade rather than the edge. I'd used the same technique successfully countless times before; people aren't made to deal with a hundred and fifty or so pounds of force crashing down on their skulls. It probably would have worked to a similar effect in this situation as well- if the stroke had ever connected with its target.
Steel grated against steel, and the next thing I knew I was pinned against the brick wall of the alley with the blade of my own sword pressed against my throat. A second blade carved with runes I didn't recognize grazed my cheek, trapping my blade with its hilt. Ry leaned his weight into his weapon, preventing me from moving.
"What do you want?" I managed to rasp.
"From you? Nothing." He replied calmly, easing the pressure on his blade slightly. "Not everyone's out to get you, you do realize."
"Then why did you follow me?"
"A couple of reasons. For now, let's just say that I'm acting as a courier."
"What?"
His hilt unlocked from mine and he took a step back, sheathing his sword as he did so. Lowering my own blade but not putting it away, I watched him warily. He looked a little worse for wear since I had last seen him -his left arm was bound up under his coat in a sling- but he paid it no mind. Instead he rifled around in his coat pocket for a moment before extracting what looked to me like a bundle of cloth. Holding it out to me in his good hand, he nodded his head toward it. "Go on, take it."
I started to obey, then hesitated. "You said courier. Who's it from?"
Instead of answering, he thrust it into my outstretched hand. It was surprisingly warm to the touch; almost hot, and there was something round and hard inside. He moved further away before I could force it back on him. "Whoever owned it before, it's yours now. That's all you need to know for the moment."
After starring at him for a moment, I let my eyes drop to the bundle of rags. Leaning my sword against my shoulder, I fumbled with it, peeling away the layers of cloth and letting them fall to the ground. I'm not really sure what I had been expecting, but what I found nestled in the core of the rags caught my breath.
It was a gemstone, but one unlike any that I had ever seen. In addition to being one of the largest jewels I had ever laid eyes on, it was perfectly round and smooth though it showed no signs of having been cut. If forced to put a name to it I would have said ruby, although it was a poor comparison. Most remarkable of all, a deep angry red colour radiated from the stone in a continuous glow that made my eyes ache to look directly at it. Blinking hard, I closed one fist around the stone and looked up. "Why-?" I trailed off.
The alley was empty. Ry must have left while I was gawking at the jewel.
Mumbling to myself, I stooped to pick up the rags from the ground and my sword fell into the mud with a splash. Irritably, I shoved the stone into a pocket and retrieved my mud-smeared blade from where it lay. With a grimace I shoved it back into the sheath hung across my shoulders. That would be a mess to clean up later on, but there was no help for it at the moment. Wiping my hands on the stained linen of my shirt, I returned to where my horse was tethered and untied the reins, my mind only half on my task.
Why the hell would someone just hand over something of such worth? Maybe he had stolen it and just wanted to get it off his hands before its rightful owner caught up with him. Exiting the alleyway, I turned right and continued down the street. Remmy's wasn't too far away, but I was going to have to pass by The Blessing, an inn owned by the temple where the guardsmen hung out when they were off duty. Well, if he had stolen it then there wasn't much that I could do. Sell it, maybe, before anyone could come to claim it.
The Blessing was a tall red brick building near the northern corner of the temple gardens. In good repair with glass paned windows, it would have stood out even if it looked no different from the shabbier houses flanking it on either side. No other inn in the city ever had guardsmen lounging about on benches outside under the shaded awnings. There were three or four of them outside right now, in spite of the early hour. By the shadows under their eyes and the black stubble that was beginning to form on their chins, they must have been a part of the last night's watch. Two of them sat at a small round table, bleary eyed over steaming mugs of mulled wine. The other two appeared to be more alert; only half in uniform, they leaned against the side of the inn whetting the heads of their spears on chunks of rough grey stone while they chatted in low voices.
I kept my head down as I passed, with my horse between the inn and myself. Normally I avoided passing anywhere near temple property, but at the moment I didn't feel like spending an hour backtracking my way through town when I could be home in fifteen minutes. The men with the spears paused to watch as I walked past, but I forced myself to keep my pace steady. They would recognize me without a doubt, but I couldn't give them any reason to be suspicious. I raked one hand through my hair and kept moving, trying to quell the nervousness in my stomach. It wasn't that I was afraid of the guardsmen, exactly. Alone, they don't pose much of a threat to me. But if I was forced to even injure one, they'd exile me for good. Killing one would earn me a trip to the headsman's block, even if it was in defense.
Luck was holding with me, it seemed, for the moment at least. No one made a move to follow, and I turned onto the next street with a sigh of relief. Whistling a little bit, I cast an eye at the clouds overhead. The rain and drizzle had stopped some time ago, but the last thing I needed was for it to start up again while my animal was loaded down with bags of flour and salt. Picking up my pace, I wove my way through the maze of streets back in the direction of home. I'd have to drop off the goods with Remmy first before I could return my mount to the stables, but maybe she'd have some of that soup she'd been making this morning ready by now. Yeah, soup was definitely sounding good just about now.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sometime later that evening I sat on a padded horsehair stool in the corner of my room, watching as Remmy stripped the old covering off of my sword hilt and carefully redid the wrapping with the leather I had picked up that morning. Tabby sat on the edge of my cot, bouncing her knees up and down while we listened to Remmy's constant stream of chatter.
"-So anyway, the temple is going to be taking over for the city guards, although I cannot fathom why. I heard some people talking about something bad happening in a little village to the north of here, but I didn't catch all of what they were saying. Maybe that has something to do with it."
I shifted in my seat. "I overheard a couple of temple servants gossiping while I was in Gil's. A message came in from Lohan this morning addressed to the High Priest. Apparently the Moon Child was staying in Vista yesterday afternoon when the Black Monster attacked the village."
Tabby squeaked loudly and toppled off of the side of my cot. Scrambling to get back up, she asked, "What happened?"
I glanced at Remmy. This wasn't exactly the sort of thing that should be talked about around a kid, after all. Remmy continued wrapping the hilt of the sword without a pause. "She's bound to hear about it sooner or later anyway. Better from you than some gossipy merchant."
I was about to point out to her that the entire story came from a gossipy pair of temple servants, but thought the better of it. "He blasted it. I guess there's not much left of it except for a big smoking hole in the ground. The thing is, the Child survived that and managed to chase off the monster before he could kill the other survivors. The priests are probably worried that he'll be coming after the temples next."
Remmy nodded slowly. "That would make sense, although why that they think a monster would have the intelligence to do such a thing is beyond me."
I shrugged. "They're the ones who are supposed to be experts on the subject, not us."
Remmy finished strapping and hefted the blade. "Come on, come and get this great log splitter of yours. I still don't see how you can fight with a weapon of this size. It has to be one of the heaviest weapons I've ever seen."
Getting to my feet, I took the blade back and started to examine it. "You haven't seen a lot of weapons then. Pray that you never have to." The strapping was well done, with hard black strips of leather. The grip felt a little strange without the worn in indents where my fingers usually gripped, but it was a good change. "Nice job."
Remmy opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get a word out there was a crashing sound from the street above, followed by a drunken yell. Closing her mouth again, she shook her head. "Not even the eighth hour and they're already drunk enough to brawl. Looks as though they've forgotten you live here again."
I grunted and sheathed my sword, trying to ignore the gritty sound it made as the steel slid into the leather case. I had cleaned the mud off the blade, but I hadn't been able to get it all out of the sheath. "I'll have to remind them. You stay down here with Tabby until I'm finished, okay?"
Remmy nodded, and I clambered up the wooden ladder to the hallway. The sounds of the brawl were louder above the floorboards as I climbed out of the hatch. Pulling my sword clear of its scabbard, I headed straight to the front door and jerked it open.
The street out side was chaos. Twenty men grappled in the streets, armed with their fists, broken chair legs, and empty bottles of liquor. Screams and yells echoed through the streets, punctuated by the sound of liquor bottles shattering over people's heads. Not an uncommon scene when you live across the road from a seedy tavern like The Cradle, but still a big brawl.
One thing about brawls is that the people involved are never very selective when it comes to choosing their targets. I hadn't had the door open for five seconds before one cross-eyed fellow swinging the stump of a broken rum bottle lunged at me, howling something about his sister. Knocking the bottle to one side, I grabbed him by the front of his stained jacket and heaved him backward out onto the street. He collided with a second man, and they both went down in a jumbled heap. Neither of them got back to their feet.
For a moment the fighting quieted as those nearby paused in their wrestling to stare at the two men lying face down in the mud, both of them out cold. Only for a moment, mind. A few of the drunks showed a rare sign of sober judgement and prudently turned tail and ran. The rest returned to the scuffle with zeal, swearing loudly as they made up for the momentary pause.
Muttering a few choice oaths of my own I jumped off of the doorstep and into the fray, laying about with the flat of my blade. Three went down in quick succession, groaning and clasping fractured knees and shins before the rest of the mob began to draw back warily, flexing their fingers. I'd broken up fights from The Cradle more times than I care to count, and many of these men had been through this situation before. I could almost hear the rusty, rum soaked cogs in their minds turning as they weighed up the situation. There were still ten or twelve of them left, but my reputation weighed heavily on their minds. In truth, if they had all attacked at once, drunk or not, they could have taken me down without too much trouble, but they didn't seem to realize that. Sometimes my reputation as a prize fighter causes problems, but this was one of the times when I was glad to have it. Grudgingly, starting with a few men at first and then the rest slowly following suit, the brawlers dispersed and I was left standing alone in the street.
Well, almost alone.
"Damnen!" Two temple guardsmen were coming down the street, their long spears held rigidly in their hands. The taller of the two I didn't recognize, but the one who had spoken, a man of medium size and build with waves of iron grey in his hair, was vaguely familiar. "I thought that it might be you."
Lowering my sword, I glanced at the groaning men sitting in the mud nearby. "What do you mean by that, my l-Lord?" I almost choked over the title, but I managed to get it out. Normally I wouldn't have bothered, but right now, standing in the midst of what had been a brawl until a few minutes before, currying favor didn't seem like a bad idea.
If the ego-stroking had any effect, it didn't show. "We received word of a street brawl a few minutes ago. I had suspected that I would find some low- life at the root of it, but I had no idea that they let rodents like you into taverns anymore."
I bristled at the insult, trying to keep a rein on my temper. I couldn't afford to lose it now. I glared at the ground for a moment and suddenly I was able to put a name to his face. "You're Sergeant Winalf, aren't you," I rasped, suddenly feeling as though fingers were closing around my windpipe.
Winalf nodded, and I felt a surge of hate for the man. One of the few survivors of those ill-fated campaigns into the eastern lands, he had been in command of Daysk's unit. He had been of a higher rank then, but was demoted on his return. Since then he had managed to work his way back up to sergeant, but he was still kept under surveillance. Personally, I was glad of it. He had deserted his unit to their deaths. "You knew my brother."
"I did." He smiled, but it was hardly friendly. "He was a mediocre soldier at best, but at least he never sank quite to your level."
I ground my teeth. "At least I'm still head and shoulders above you, scum. I don't turn tail and run, and neither did Daysk."
He snorted. "Your brother was the biggest fool of them all. Bravery is to be valued, but not when it crosses over into stupidity. Do you know how he died?" He asked, his eyes fixing on mine. "He was one of those leading the first charge against those demons. Oh, he was brave all right, waving his spear and screaming his defiance to death- right up until he got caught between two of the smaller dragons. He was screaming for quite a while after that, as I recall." Plucking a twig up from the mud, he balanced it between two fingers for a second before snapping it with a meaningful grin.
The dam that had been holding back my temper burst. With a snarl I raised my sword and charged towards the two guardsmen, all sane thought evaporating from my mind. Winalf managed to block my first strike with his spearhead, but my second stroke chopped the heavy haft clean in two. He stumbled backward and raised his arms as though to shield himself, but flesh and bone have never been a mach for steel.
The second man dropped his spear and ran as I kicked Winalf's limp form of the end of my sword. I started to go after him, but stopped before I had taken two steps. There was no point. The guardsmen would find out about this whether he was the one who told them or not. Brushing a hunk of hair out of my eyes, I froze as my sticky, bloody fingers touched my skin. Slowly, the enormity of what I had just done sunk in. I had killed a guardsman. I would be ordered executed for sure.
Behind me I could hear Remmy open the door hesitantly. "Zion? Zion, what happened he-" she trailed off as her eyes fell on Winalf's uniform.
"Remmy, get out of here." My voice was surprisingly level as I spoke, still staring at my fingers. "Take Tabby and leave the city before they come." I looked up at last as she hesitated, fixing my eyes on hers. "You have to leave this place NOW!"
I am a horrible person, I know. But I'll say it now so that I don't have to explain it again later: School is starting, so there is going to be a definite delay before I am able to get the next chapter up. Grade eleven: I'm getting alarmingly close to the point that I'm going to have to start thinking about university. I will try to keep the updates coming regularly, but unfortunately schoolwork is going to have to become a (however detestable) priority in my life. **sighs** And I don't think that I can count on a steady stream of natural disasters to give me more writing time until after Christmas. (Woot for Canadian winters! We had several weeks worth of snow days and three flood days last year! Yeah baby! Unfortunately, that flood did take some lives.)
Zion's POV:
I slept for most of the rest of the day and the entire night, waking only long enough to go upstairs for a meal before retreating back under the sheets of my bed. Tabby followed me around like a little rosy-cheeked puppy whenever I rose, trailing her rag doll along behind her by one arm. I think that she was afraid that I would run off again when her back was turned, poor thing. Climbing up onto a chair beside me while I ate, she watched me closely, scolding me in a mock-motherly tone when I didn't chew each bite fifteen times before swallowing. Once I was finished eating I was herded back down the hall, Tabby poking me in the side with a pudgy little finger whenever I pretended to stop or turn around, to the hatch that led down to my room. After assuring the little girl three or four times that I was much too tired to go running around Serdio tonight I climbed back down the ladder and flopped back onto the cot.
My sleep that night was a restless one. Tossing and muttering, I was kept awake until well after midnight by the thunder rolling overhead and the wind shrieking through the streets. The storm was a slow moving one, but a storm in every sense of the word. 'Hurricane' was probably a better way to describe it. Rolling over onto my stomach, I buried my head underneath a pillow. There'd be repairs to do on the roof tomorrow for sure. When sleep finally did come it was punctuated with odd dreams about prizefighting where I was pitted against impossible opponents; armed only with my fists and a ball of incandescent fire that burned me more often than it burned the enemy.
When I woke the next morning I was sandy-eyed and none too refreshed, but at least most of my exhaustion was gone. Lighting the lamp, I sat on the edge of my cot rubbing my eyes and trying to bring the room into focus. The fat tallow candle guttered inside its glass flue, its feeble light not reaching the shadows in the other corners of the room. From somewhere in the city above I could hear the temple bells tolling the seventh hour, their mournful tones reminding me of funeral bells. Without thinking my fingers went to the scars that marred the left side of my face. Funeral bells. How fitting.
I spent the next hour or so whetting and polishing the nicks and scars out of my sword blade. There were a great many; almost too much for comfort. Picking up an oily cloth, I frowned at the red marks staining the blood channel that ran three quarters the length of the blade and set to work. This sword had lasted me six years and counting: a rare stretch of time for any weapon. It had been a good-bye gift from my brother before he had left on one of the temple's ill-fated crusades into the forgotten lands to the far east.
I reversed the sword and examined the hard brown leather strapping on the hilt. It was beginning to wear through; here and there the leather was chafed so thin that grooves appeared to have been worn into the hilt. I would have to ask Remmy if she would replace it.
The few soldiers that had returned from the campaigns told wide-eyed stories of dragons descending upon the temple's army from the skies in a bath of blood and fire. The elements themselves had been torn apart in the slaughter; the ground breaking asunder and exploding from underneath their feet; floods breaking loose without warning and drowning the steel armored dread knights as they retreated. But then again, you can never fully trust the stories of survivors. Everything always manages to become blown out of proportion. I mean, dragons? Seriously.
Remmy was waiting for me in the kitchen when I went upstairs, hanging a pot of broth on one of the iron hooks that swung out over the fire. As I came into the kitchen she turned around, wiping her hands on an already floury apron. "There you are, Zion. I was just about to come down and wake you up for breakfast." She bustled over to the scrubbed wooden table, ladling some porridge into a blue-rimmed pottery bowl. "Go on, eat up. I was already out to the market this morning, but I want you to pick up some beef from the butchers for me. And I'm starting to run a bit low on flour again. Oh, and while you're at it-"
Picking a stray raisin out of my porridge, I flicked it away, idly wondering what the woman had picked up at the market this morning. Very little, by the sound of it. Or at least, nothing heavy. Beef, flour, salt, potatoes, oh, and if she was going to repair my sword hilt later on she was going to need some leather. The list went on. With her words still rattling around in my head, I strapped my sword across my back and headed out into the street.
The streets were ankle deep mud, mixed with deep puddles the size of small ponds. Cutting through the alley next to the tavern, I retraced my route from yesterday back to the stables. There was no way I was about to carry eighty pounds of foodstuff and my sword through this cesspool. I suppose that I could have left my blade at home, but I had suspicions about what an off-duty dread knight might try to do if he caught me alone in the streets unarmed.
Reaching the stable, I hammered on the back door until it was answered by one of the stable boys. The far section of the stable appeared to have been flooded in the storm; most of the animals had been moved to higher, dryer stalls. Taking my horse from his stall and throwing on his tack, I led him out onto the soupy street a few minutes later. Swinging up into the high cantled saddle, I picked up the reins and started off through the maze of back streets and alleys towards the market on the main street.
A light drizzle was falling from the leaden skies but a handful of people still hustled from shop to shop, ignoring the rain. They walked quickly with their cloaks pulled tightly around them, carrying bags or baskets full of their goods. Here and there the city guardsmen stood watch, some chatting good-naturedly with gloomy street vendors. Others regarded the foreign men and woman hawking their goods with suspicion. One guard didn't bother to hide his suspicion; seated on a barrel across the street from one such vendor, he caressed his spear as he watched. The man running the booth did his best to avoid looking at the guard, but his movements were jerky and nervous.
I shook my head as I rode past. The man had shock white hair and pale blue eyes: a half-wingly, most likely. In the northern countries relations are comfortable between humans and winglies, but the idea had never seemed to catch hold here in Kazas. Save for the Moon Child and her family, most winglies were held in suspicion. Half bloods had it worse, because no one could ever be sure where their loyalties lie. Or what they were capable of. I had never believed in this myself, but the general attitude of the city was as such. Feeling the gaze of one of the guardsmen on me, I moved on quickly.
The butcher's was a blocky two story building on a street corner, its whitewashed stone walls splattered with mud. A brightly painted wooden sign hung over the doorway stating the owner's name and the date of establishment underneath a picture of a butchering knife. It swung back and forth slightly now, buffered by the occasional gusts of wind that came whistling down the street and over the rooftops. Dismounting, I tethered my horse to one of the wooden hitching posts outside and stepped onto the doorstep. Squeezing the rusty latch, I pushed the heavy oaken door open and went inside.
The man standing behind the counter looked up as I entered. "Ah, Zion. Haven't seen you through here lately." Tall and balding with shoulders like a blacksmith, Gil Haberman looked better suited to wrestling with bulls than butchering them. "What have you been up to?"
"Been out of town chasing prizes again." I shrugged; examining the slabs and sides of meat hung from the ceiling on iron hooks. "I didn't miss anything while I was gone, did I?"
Wiping his hands on his stained apron, Gil hooked his thumbs into his belt. "A couple of brawls in that tavern across from Remmy's. Don't worry," He told me as I started to open my mouth, "No one even came near the place. I don't think they wanted to chance the fact that you might have been home."
I grunted and rubbed my eyes. "Just as well. You wouldn't happen to have a side of beef in the cold room, would you?"
While Gil went to check, I slumped down into a wooden chair pushed against the far wall and closed my eyes. I opened them again almost immediately as two woman dressed in the livery of temple servants entered the room, letting in a blast of chilly air as the door opened and closed. They were deep in conversation, and didn't appear to notice my presence.
"The pigeon came in this morning just as the storm was beginning to ebb off. I'm amazed that little bird made it through in that gale."
The second woman clicked her tongue. "Details, Alice. You've gone on and on about that message, but you haven't told me what it said yet. How did you chance to read it anyhow?"
Alice waved her hand impatiently. "I was serving the high priest breakfast in his rooms when Wan brought the message. Apparently there was a little town up in the mountains attacked yesterday during the afternoon. It looks as though that demon was trying to kill the Holy Moon Child."
The other woman's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, for the love of Soa! Is the Child all right? What happened?"
"According to the message she's fine, but the village was destroyed. There's not much more than a crater left. A few survived, but they're in rough shape." Alice wiped her forehead. "Fortunately, the Holy Moon Child managed to drive the Monster off before he could do any more damage," she said her voice carrying a note of wonder.
"What? What do you mean-" She cut off abruptly, staring at me as though seeing me for the first time. Her mouth snapped shut, and for a moment the two of them glowered at me as though I was a disgusting rodent before gathering their shawls about their shoulders and sweeping out the door.
Gil came out of the cold room, heavy bladed knife in hand, just in time to see them leave. "What happened to them?"
"They saw me." I replied sourly, getting up out of my chair. Why of all times did they have to notice me then, just when the news was getting interesting? Oh well, by afternoon the rumors would be flying around the town thicker than a flock of sparrows. I was bound to catch the rest of it sooner or later. "So, what about the beef?"
The temple bells were tolling the eleventh hour I was making my way slowly back through the streets on foot, leading my horse. Remmy's groceries were tied tightly to the saddle, covered and protected from the drizzle by a heavy burlap tarp. Grumbling to myself about having to slog through the mud rather than ride, I pulled to one side as a carriage rattled by. People had finally begun to filter out of their homes and were going about their daily business. Vendors stumped about carrying their goods in trays handing from their shoulders, calling out their business in loud, hoarse voices. People bobbed in and out of buildings burdened down with bolts of cloth and baskets of fruit. I paid these shops no mind for the most part, but as I passed one particular squat stone building I stopped, suddenly very aware of the fact that I hadn't had a real drink in several days.
I bit my lip, looking around. I couldn't exactly tie my horse to the hitching posts and go in for a drink now that I had loaded him with goods. And since I had been banned from The Cradle, the tavern near by Remmy's, for fighting, there was no where close to home where I could pick up a drink. Maybe if I could find a porter, then I could send the groceries back to the house and stay behind for a drink. That seemed to be the best course of action. Still holding the reins, I climbed onto the cement slab in front of the tavern and peered up and down the street, looking for a kid that might be willing to take on the job. People of every description milled about in the street, but very few children moved through the crowd. Starting to give up on the idea of a cold beer, I jumped back onto the muddy street and checked the girth of the saddle. Satisfied that it was secure, I glanced down the street once more.
I almost didn't notice him at first, what with the crowd shifting constantly. But as I scanned the street more slowly, I picked out a man dressed in a long black coat talking to a man selling apples about a hundred feet back up the road. The merchant appeared to say something, then he gestured up the road in my direction. The second man turned and looked straight at me, meeting my gaze for a moment before turning away. Nodding his head, Ry passed something to the merchant and then disappeared into the crowd.
Biting back an oath, I wrapped the reins around my fist and started to drag the horse down the street. So he had followed me here after all. Shouldering an old man to one side, I ignored his curses as I hurried past. I might be able to lose him in the back streets, but once I got out of the crowd I would loose my only cover. What did he want? If it was the winnings, why hadn't he taken them and left me for the dead two nights ago?
Turning down first one side street and then another, I made my decision. I didn't really want to have to kill him; the temple had heavy penalties for anyone that they could connect to a murder, and no one would hesitate to put my head on the block. But if I could lure him into one of the alleys, I might be able to scare him off before he tried anything stupid. Risking a glance back over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a black amongst the thin trickle of people walking along the road. I smiled to myself; whoever he was, this Ry fellow wasn't very good at shadowing people. Turning down a narrow avenue I jerked on my horse's head, urging him into a shuffling trot. A grid of several narrow alleys, interconnected with one another, branched off the road; picking the closest one, I headed into the end of it. A second alley ran along the back of the buildings, creating a giant 'L' shape. Leading my horse out of sight around the bend, I tied him to an old crate before pulling my sword from its sheath and returning to the corner. Safely hidden from view, I waited.
I wasn't kept waiting long. I had hardly been standing there for a minute before my ears caught the sound of footsteps coming down the alley. I shifted my grip on the hilt of my sword and rested it against my shoulder. I would have to be quick about this, to try to avoid an outcry; maybe if I could knock him out-
Springing out around the corner, I swung down hard in an overhand blow with the flat of my blade rather than the edge. I'd used the same technique successfully countless times before; people aren't made to deal with a hundred and fifty or so pounds of force crashing down on their skulls. It probably would have worked to a similar effect in this situation as well- if the stroke had ever connected with its target.
Steel grated against steel, and the next thing I knew I was pinned against the brick wall of the alley with the blade of my own sword pressed against my throat. A second blade carved with runes I didn't recognize grazed my cheek, trapping my blade with its hilt. Ry leaned his weight into his weapon, preventing me from moving.
"What do you want?" I managed to rasp.
"From you? Nothing." He replied calmly, easing the pressure on his blade slightly. "Not everyone's out to get you, you do realize."
"Then why did you follow me?"
"A couple of reasons. For now, let's just say that I'm acting as a courier."
"What?"
His hilt unlocked from mine and he took a step back, sheathing his sword as he did so. Lowering my own blade but not putting it away, I watched him warily. He looked a little worse for wear since I had last seen him -his left arm was bound up under his coat in a sling- but he paid it no mind. Instead he rifled around in his coat pocket for a moment before extracting what looked to me like a bundle of cloth. Holding it out to me in his good hand, he nodded his head toward it. "Go on, take it."
I started to obey, then hesitated. "You said courier. Who's it from?"
Instead of answering, he thrust it into my outstretched hand. It was surprisingly warm to the touch; almost hot, and there was something round and hard inside. He moved further away before I could force it back on him. "Whoever owned it before, it's yours now. That's all you need to know for the moment."
After starring at him for a moment, I let my eyes drop to the bundle of rags. Leaning my sword against my shoulder, I fumbled with it, peeling away the layers of cloth and letting them fall to the ground. I'm not really sure what I had been expecting, but what I found nestled in the core of the rags caught my breath.
It was a gemstone, but one unlike any that I had ever seen. In addition to being one of the largest jewels I had ever laid eyes on, it was perfectly round and smooth though it showed no signs of having been cut. If forced to put a name to it I would have said ruby, although it was a poor comparison. Most remarkable of all, a deep angry red colour radiated from the stone in a continuous glow that made my eyes ache to look directly at it. Blinking hard, I closed one fist around the stone and looked up. "Why-?" I trailed off.
The alley was empty. Ry must have left while I was gawking at the jewel.
Mumbling to myself, I stooped to pick up the rags from the ground and my sword fell into the mud with a splash. Irritably, I shoved the stone into a pocket and retrieved my mud-smeared blade from where it lay. With a grimace I shoved it back into the sheath hung across my shoulders. That would be a mess to clean up later on, but there was no help for it at the moment. Wiping my hands on the stained linen of my shirt, I returned to where my horse was tethered and untied the reins, my mind only half on my task.
Why the hell would someone just hand over something of such worth? Maybe he had stolen it and just wanted to get it off his hands before its rightful owner caught up with him. Exiting the alleyway, I turned right and continued down the street. Remmy's wasn't too far away, but I was going to have to pass by The Blessing, an inn owned by the temple where the guardsmen hung out when they were off duty. Well, if he had stolen it then there wasn't much that I could do. Sell it, maybe, before anyone could come to claim it.
The Blessing was a tall red brick building near the northern corner of the temple gardens. In good repair with glass paned windows, it would have stood out even if it looked no different from the shabbier houses flanking it on either side. No other inn in the city ever had guardsmen lounging about on benches outside under the shaded awnings. There were three or four of them outside right now, in spite of the early hour. By the shadows under their eyes and the black stubble that was beginning to form on their chins, they must have been a part of the last night's watch. Two of them sat at a small round table, bleary eyed over steaming mugs of mulled wine. The other two appeared to be more alert; only half in uniform, they leaned against the side of the inn whetting the heads of their spears on chunks of rough grey stone while they chatted in low voices.
I kept my head down as I passed, with my horse between the inn and myself. Normally I avoided passing anywhere near temple property, but at the moment I didn't feel like spending an hour backtracking my way through town when I could be home in fifteen minutes. The men with the spears paused to watch as I walked past, but I forced myself to keep my pace steady. They would recognize me without a doubt, but I couldn't give them any reason to be suspicious. I raked one hand through my hair and kept moving, trying to quell the nervousness in my stomach. It wasn't that I was afraid of the guardsmen, exactly. Alone, they don't pose much of a threat to me. But if I was forced to even injure one, they'd exile me for good. Killing one would earn me a trip to the headsman's block, even if it was in defense.
Luck was holding with me, it seemed, for the moment at least. No one made a move to follow, and I turned onto the next street with a sigh of relief. Whistling a little bit, I cast an eye at the clouds overhead. The rain and drizzle had stopped some time ago, but the last thing I needed was for it to start up again while my animal was loaded down with bags of flour and salt. Picking up my pace, I wove my way through the maze of streets back in the direction of home. I'd have to drop off the goods with Remmy first before I could return my mount to the stables, but maybe she'd have some of that soup she'd been making this morning ready by now. Yeah, soup was definitely sounding good just about now.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Sometime later that evening I sat on a padded horsehair stool in the corner of my room, watching as Remmy stripped the old covering off of my sword hilt and carefully redid the wrapping with the leather I had picked up that morning. Tabby sat on the edge of my cot, bouncing her knees up and down while we listened to Remmy's constant stream of chatter.
"-So anyway, the temple is going to be taking over for the city guards, although I cannot fathom why. I heard some people talking about something bad happening in a little village to the north of here, but I didn't catch all of what they were saying. Maybe that has something to do with it."
I shifted in my seat. "I overheard a couple of temple servants gossiping while I was in Gil's. A message came in from Lohan this morning addressed to the High Priest. Apparently the Moon Child was staying in Vista yesterday afternoon when the Black Monster attacked the village."
Tabby squeaked loudly and toppled off of the side of my cot. Scrambling to get back up, she asked, "What happened?"
I glanced at Remmy. This wasn't exactly the sort of thing that should be talked about around a kid, after all. Remmy continued wrapping the hilt of the sword without a pause. "She's bound to hear about it sooner or later anyway. Better from you than some gossipy merchant."
I was about to point out to her that the entire story came from a gossipy pair of temple servants, but thought the better of it. "He blasted it. I guess there's not much left of it except for a big smoking hole in the ground. The thing is, the Child survived that and managed to chase off the monster before he could kill the other survivors. The priests are probably worried that he'll be coming after the temples next."
Remmy nodded slowly. "That would make sense, although why that they think a monster would have the intelligence to do such a thing is beyond me."
I shrugged. "They're the ones who are supposed to be experts on the subject, not us."
Remmy finished strapping and hefted the blade. "Come on, come and get this great log splitter of yours. I still don't see how you can fight with a weapon of this size. It has to be one of the heaviest weapons I've ever seen."
Getting to my feet, I took the blade back and started to examine it. "You haven't seen a lot of weapons then. Pray that you never have to." The strapping was well done, with hard black strips of leather. The grip felt a little strange without the worn in indents where my fingers usually gripped, but it was a good change. "Nice job."
Remmy opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get a word out there was a crashing sound from the street above, followed by a drunken yell. Closing her mouth again, she shook her head. "Not even the eighth hour and they're already drunk enough to brawl. Looks as though they've forgotten you live here again."
I grunted and sheathed my sword, trying to ignore the gritty sound it made as the steel slid into the leather case. I had cleaned the mud off the blade, but I hadn't been able to get it all out of the sheath. "I'll have to remind them. You stay down here with Tabby until I'm finished, okay?"
Remmy nodded, and I clambered up the wooden ladder to the hallway. The sounds of the brawl were louder above the floorboards as I climbed out of the hatch. Pulling my sword clear of its scabbard, I headed straight to the front door and jerked it open.
The street out side was chaos. Twenty men grappled in the streets, armed with their fists, broken chair legs, and empty bottles of liquor. Screams and yells echoed through the streets, punctuated by the sound of liquor bottles shattering over people's heads. Not an uncommon scene when you live across the road from a seedy tavern like The Cradle, but still a big brawl.
One thing about brawls is that the people involved are never very selective when it comes to choosing their targets. I hadn't had the door open for five seconds before one cross-eyed fellow swinging the stump of a broken rum bottle lunged at me, howling something about his sister. Knocking the bottle to one side, I grabbed him by the front of his stained jacket and heaved him backward out onto the street. He collided with a second man, and they both went down in a jumbled heap. Neither of them got back to their feet.
For a moment the fighting quieted as those nearby paused in their wrestling to stare at the two men lying face down in the mud, both of them out cold. Only for a moment, mind. A few of the drunks showed a rare sign of sober judgement and prudently turned tail and ran. The rest returned to the scuffle with zeal, swearing loudly as they made up for the momentary pause.
Muttering a few choice oaths of my own I jumped off of the doorstep and into the fray, laying about with the flat of my blade. Three went down in quick succession, groaning and clasping fractured knees and shins before the rest of the mob began to draw back warily, flexing their fingers. I'd broken up fights from The Cradle more times than I care to count, and many of these men had been through this situation before. I could almost hear the rusty, rum soaked cogs in their minds turning as they weighed up the situation. There were still ten or twelve of them left, but my reputation weighed heavily on their minds. In truth, if they had all attacked at once, drunk or not, they could have taken me down without too much trouble, but they didn't seem to realize that. Sometimes my reputation as a prize fighter causes problems, but this was one of the times when I was glad to have it. Grudgingly, starting with a few men at first and then the rest slowly following suit, the brawlers dispersed and I was left standing alone in the street.
Well, almost alone.
"Damnen!" Two temple guardsmen were coming down the street, their long spears held rigidly in their hands. The taller of the two I didn't recognize, but the one who had spoken, a man of medium size and build with waves of iron grey in his hair, was vaguely familiar. "I thought that it might be you."
Lowering my sword, I glanced at the groaning men sitting in the mud nearby. "What do you mean by that, my l-Lord?" I almost choked over the title, but I managed to get it out. Normally I wouldn't have bothered, but right now, standing in the midst of what had been a brawl until a few minutes before, currying favor didn't seem like a bad idea.
If the ego-stroking had any effect, it didn't show. "We received word of a street brawl a few minutes ago. I had suspected that I would find some low- life at the root of it, but I had no idea that they let rodents like you into taverns anymore."
I bristled at the insult, trying to keep a rein on my temper. I couldn't afford to lose it now. I glared at the ground for a moment and suddenly I was able to put a name to his face. "You're Sergeant Winalf, aren't you," I rasped, suddenly feeling as though fingers were closing around my windpipe.
Winalf nodded, and I felt a surge of hate for the man. One of the few survivors of those ill-fated campaigns into the eastern lands, he had been in command of Daysk's unit. He had been of a higher rank then, but was demoted on his return. Since then he had managed to work his way back up to sergeant, but he was still kept under surveillance. Personally, I was glad of it. He had deserted his unit to their deaths. "You knew my brother."
"I did." He smiled, but it was hardly friendly. "He was a mediocre soldier at best, but at least he never sank quite to your level."
I ground my teeth. "At least I'm still head and shoulders above you, scum. I don't turn tail and run, and neither did Daysk."
He snorted. "Your brother was the biggest fool of them all. Bravery is to be valued, but not when it crosses over into stupidity. Do you know how he died?" He asked, his eyes fixing on mine. "He was one of those leading the first charge against those demons. Oh, he was brave all right, waving his spear and screaming his defiance to death- right up until he got caught between two of the smaller dragons. He was screaming for quite a while after that, as I recall." Plucking a twig up from the mud, he balanced it between two fingers for a second before snapping it with a meaningful grin.
The dam that had been holding back my temper burst. With a snarl I raised my sword and charged towards the two guardsmen, all sane thought evaporating from my mind. Winalf managed to block my first strike with his spearhead, but my second stroke chopped the heavy haft clean in two. He stumbled backward and raised his arms as though to shield himself, but flesh and bone have never been a mach for steel.
The second man dropped his spear and ran as I kicked Winalf's limp form of the end of my sword. I started to go after him, but stopped before I had taken two steps. There was no point. The guardsmen would find out about this whether he was the one who told them or not. Brushing a hunk of hair out of my eyes, I froze as my sticky, bloody fingers touched my skin. Slowly, the enormity of what I had just done sunk in. I had killed a guardsman. I would be ordered executed for sure.
Behind me I could hear Remmy open the door hesitantly. "Zion? Zion, what happened he-" she trailed off as her eyes fell on Winalf's uniform.
"Remmy, get out of here." My voice was surprisingly level as I spoke, still staring at my fingers. "Take Tabby and leave the city before they come." I looked up at last as she hesitated, fixing my eyes on hers. "You have to leave this place NOW!"
I am a horrible person, I know. But I'll say it now so that I don't have to explain it again later: School is starting, so there is going to be a definite delay before I am able to get the next chapter up. Grade eleven: I'm getting alarmingly close to the point that I'm going to have to start thinking about university. I will try to keep the updates coming regularly, but unfortunately schoolwork is going to have to become a (however detestable) priority in my life. **sighs** And I don't think that I can count on a steady stream of natural disasters to give me more writing time until after Christmas. (Woot for Canadian winters! We had several weeks worth of snow days and three flood days last year! Yeah baby! Unfortunately, that flood did take some lives.)