15th Day of Fireseek, 565 CY
The Brass Dragon Inn, Furyondy

Caroline opened her eyes.

Although she heard nothing, she knew someone was in her cabin with her, or had been recently. She could see the light from the fireplace in the other room. Someone clearly was tending the fire, and keeping it going. She shifted underneath her blanket, turning from her left side onto her right. Judging from how sore the former was, she must have been asleep for a while.

It was still raining outside. Caroline closed her eyes again, hoping it would all go away; the rain, the heartbreak, everything.

She vaguely remembered Talass helping her to her feet and walking her back to her cabin. She had helped Caroline undress and cleaned her up. Despite the fireplace going in the front room, the younger woman couldn't stop shivering, so the cleric had gone and given her one of her night robes. Talass hadn't said much that Caroline could recall, beyond a few vague words of comfort. Her outburst had completely and utterly drained her, so Caroline had just lain down and tried to sleep the rest of her life away. Sleep hadn't come, but she kept her eyes closed and did not move or respond as she heard people coming and going quietly. They had known that she was still awake, and simply choosing not to respond to any of them, and they had accepted that. She had heard Talass' voice, and Elrohir's, and Tadoa's.

But not Aslan's.

The thought of the paladin made Caroline grind her teeth together. She still hated him, although it was a cold, dull, empty hate now. She remembered lying in bed, hoping for another telepathic contact. Sometimes it would be Monsrek, wondering why Caroline hadn't showed up in Willip.

Other times it would be Nodyath, announcing that he was here to take Caroline up on her offer. She would hold her breath, waiting for a lethal burst of psionic energy to come crashing into her mind.

But it never came, although sleep eventually did. Maybe even Nodyath feels sorry for me, she thought.

Caroline's eyes felt dry and puffy from all the crying she had done. She was hungry, and her throat felt parched. She knew she wasn't going to get any more sleep, yet walking over to the inn for something to eat or drink seemed less possible right now than climbing Mount Celestia. She just couldn't do it. She wondered if someone had brought her pack back inside. It held several waterskins, and some hardtack, possibly even a piece of smoked venison. Slowly, she maneuvered herself into a sitting position, and turned around.

The firelight illuminated the silhouette of a man standing in the archway, looking at her.

Caroline started, a quick shriek coming from her throat before she could stop it. The figure likewise started, apparently not expecting such a reaction. Even before he stepped back and bowed low, Caroline had recognized him though, and was ashamed of her reaction.

"Tojo?"

The samurai slowly rose up, but not all the way. He kept his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

"A thousand aporogies, Carrorine-san. Tarass has been watching over you. She- needed quick break; asked me to make sure fireprace stay warm. Not wish to disturb your rest."

Caroline tried one of her weak smiles, but those muscles seemed to have forgotten how to obey. She settled for what she hoped was a kindly look from her eyes, even if the samurai couldn't see them. "That's all right... Tojo-sama," she said, hoping she was using the correct Nipponese suffix. "You didn't disturb me at all. Thank you for your concern."

Tojo bowed again, then stood upright, his own self again. "Honored to serve. I wirr get Tarass for you now." He turned to leave.

"No!" Caroline shot out her hand towards him before she even knew what she was doing.

The samurai turned back, eyeing her quizzically.

Caroline swallowed hard, not quite sure what was going on. A minute ago, she'd have been happy if she never saw another sentient face again. Now, she didn't want to be alone, and for some reason Tojo being here was not making her more uncomfortable, as anyone else might have done.

"Please," she croaked, "If you don't mind, could you stay with me- just for a little while?"

Tojo was clearly puzzled, but he nodded. The samurai took a step forward, and then seemed to remember something. He held up a finger to Caroline, indicating that she should wait for a moment. He then disappeared into the front room, coming back with a steaming mug of tea, which he handed to Caroline. She nodded thanks, blew on the tea, and took a sip. It was a mint brew, one of the Brass Dragon's standards, but she was somewhat surprised that it tasted fresh. She assumed Talass or Tojo had simply been keeping it hot in the small iron pot that swung over the fireplace. She gave Tojo a questioning glance.

"Thank you, Tojo. This is good, but it tastes fresh. How did you know when I would wake up?"

The samurai gave her one of his raised eyebrows. "Not know, Carrorine-san. That fourth cup. Tarass drink other three."

Now it was Caroline's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Three cups? No wonder she had to, er- take a quick break."

She finally got the smile out and was delighted when Tojo rewarded her with a full smile of his own. She couldn't recall ever seeing that before. The samurai, his usual serious expression quickly back in place, slowly sat down on the floor lotus-style, in front of her bed. He kept his gaze on the wall, just to the right of Caroline's head. While the samurai's reluctance to look a woman in the eye had been previously irritating to Caroline, now it seemed to her to be revealed not as some strange Nipponese custom, but simple shyness on Tojo's part, and this struck her as so funny that she had to choke off a laugh, less she offend him.

An eyebrow rose again, but there was otherwise no reaction.

Caroline could the whistling of the wind outside. She shivered briefly, and then looked at Tojo again. "Have I been asleep long?"

The samurai considered. "It shortry past midnight now, I berieve."

Caroline closed her eyes. Too late. She forced the sadness from her mind. There would be plenty of time for that later. Right now, there was something else that she wanted to do. Gathering the blanket as firmly as possible around herself, Caroline got out of bed, and sat down besides Tojo. She moved slowly, like one would around an unfamiliar dog, to avoid making it nervous. There was absolutely no doubt that Tojo was unsettled by this, yet he remained resolute and unmoving. Again, this seemed sweet to Caroline. She settled herself in with a sigh, smiled again at the samurai, and then kept her gaze parallel with his.

Bigfellow was in fact gathering up her nerve. She was about to ask something that was not only potentially embarrassing, but theoretically dangerous, given the samurai's strong code of honor. Still, it was something that, for some inexplicable reason, she just had to know.

She cleared her throat, glancing at her sitting partner out of the corner of her eye. "Tojo, may I ask you- a personal question?"

She heard a very slight intake of breath. The samurai's violet eyes flickered to Caroline's face, then down to the floor, then back to the wall. Caroline instantly regretted asking. Her curiosity was not worth Tojo's friendship. She doubted that neither Elrohir, Cygnus nor Aslan, who had all known Tojo for years more than she had, had ever pried like she was about to do. She knew there was some event in Tojo's past that had led to him departing Nippon under unhappy circumstances, and dearly hoped that she wasn't touching on it. Well, it was too late to back off now. She held her breath and waited.

Almost imperceptively, Tojo nodded.

"Have you ever been in love, Tojo?"

Those purple eyes went back to meet hers. An almost bemused expression came onto the samurai's face as he exhaled slowly. He nodded again. "Yes, Carrorine-san. Very much in ruv once." His gaze returned to the wall, and he was silent for a while. Just as Caroline was considering whether it might be safe to ask for details, he continued.

"I very young, thirteen maybe. Her name Kyoko. She my age, very beautifur. Her face- it right up room when she enter. I want very much- to be with her."

Caroline proceeded cautiously. "And did she love you?"

Tojo frowned. He seemed to be searching for a way to translate some Nipponese concept into Common.

"I was in training to be samurai to Yanigasawa daimyo, as my ancestors do for many generations. She was," and here he hesitated, "heimin." He looked over at Caroline. "Not nobirity, not gentry. Beneath my station."

Caroline nodded to indicate her understanding. "Your family did not approve?"

The samurai shook his head, but Caroline couldn't tell what that meant. He continued, however. "There was another boy, Hido. He awso heimin. Hido ruv Kyoko too. He," and here Tojo hesitated again, "not honoraber. We each try to win her affection. I know Kyoko ruv Hido more than me. She rike his type behavior. I become desperate. I..."

The samurai stopped; his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.

Caroline didn't dare speak, but she couldn't look away. When Tojo finally raised his eyes to look at her again, she saw pain in them. Pain, and shame.

"I- act dishonorabry, to try and be rike Hido. It not work. She choose Hido anyway. I roose Kyoko, I roose honor, I roose- everything." The samurai closed his eyes and took a deep sigh. When he opened them again, he again stared at the wall. He did not speak again.

Caroline felt sorry for Tojo, and she felt sorry that she had invaded his privacy like this. This bizarre need she had to know was almost satisfied, but not yet. "Tojo," she asked, licking her dry lips, "May I ask you one last question?"

Tojo did not respond.

Caroline leaned in closer and took the plunge.

"If it had worked, Tojo; if you had won Kyoko's heart because of what you had done; would it have been worth it?"

The samurai again turned to regard the young woman. He looked thoughtful for a few seconds and then, surprisingly, the bemused expression returned to his face.

"No, Carrorine-san. Not worth it. Must be aber to rook in mirror and be at peace with person you see there." He gave a slight shrug. "Not know if this true, but berieve so." His expression turned serious again, almost sorrowful. "I am sorry, Carrorine-san. My answer- not what you wish to hear?"

Now it was Tojo's turn to be surprised as a smile spread across Bigfellow's face. "Maybe not what I wanted to hear," she said quietly, "but what I needed to hear."

Caroline felt satisfied now, and grateful. She desperately wished she could give Tojo a hug, or a quick peck on the cheek, but she knew how uncomfortable that would make him, so she settled for a deep bow, her forehead scraping the floor from her sitting position. Somewhat puzzled, Tojo returned the bow.

The door opened.

Tojo rocketed back to his feet, moving quickly even for him. They both turned to see Talass enter. She blinked in surprise at the scene before her.

"Oh. Hello- I'm glad you're awake, Caroline. How are you feeling?" the cleric asked, her gaze switching from Caroline, up to Tojo, and back down again.

"A little better, Talass. Tojo has told me you've been keeping watch over me. Thank you." Caroline said. She had hoped to prevent any awkwardness here, erroneous thought it might be, but she suddenly realized that she had just bowed again, this time to Talass. Self-consciously, she rose to her feet, hugging onto the blanket fiercely as she made her way back to her bed. Caroline smiled again, but this time only inwardly as she watched Talass shake her head, throwing out the "impossible" scenarios she had imagined.

Tojo bowed once more to Caroline, and then headed- rather swiftly, she thought- for the door, but Talass caught his sleeve and whispered something in his ear. The samurai gave her a brief nod and left the cabin. Talass turned back to Caroline, now with a slight smile on her face.

"There's someone here to see you, Caroline."

Caroline's eyes narrowed. "I don't want to speak with Aslan right now, Talass."

Talass' expression hardened in turn. "Well, you're going to have to, sooner or later, Mrs. Bigfellow," She stated, crossing her arms across her chest. "However," she added, her face softening a little, "that's not who I was referring to."

Caroline looked confused. "Who then?"

Talass went to the door and opened it again. A man clad in plate mail, wet from the rain, walked in and bowed slightly to Caroline, his dark blue eyes twinkling. "Good evening, Lady Bigfellow."

She gawked for another moment, and then managed to pull herself together. "Sir Dorbin! How- I mean, I'm pleased to see you of course, but- when did you arrive? And why have you come? Is your party with you?"

The knight seemed somewhat amused by her confusion. He bent his right arm in the fashion of a lord escorting a lady. "I am your chariot, milady. If I may be so bold as to suggest that you throw on something a little warmer, we can be off to the Temple of Zeus."

Caroline blinked. "The temple? But- isn't it too late?"

Sir Dorbin shook his head. "You may not have quite as much time with your husband as originally planned, but it will still happen. Boastful though he may be, Monsrek does appear to have some pull with the Olympic priesthood. He was concerned when you did not show up as you had said-"

Caroline cut him off. "That was Aslan's fault! He refused to take me, and Monsrek never sent another sending to-"

Dorbin raised his hand, his features turning stern now. "Hush. I have already spoken with Aslan, young lady. I am aware of his reasons for refusing to use his Talent, and I will not gainsay him. And as for Monsrek, the sending is a very powerful boon, and difficult to pray for. He can use it at most once per day. He sacrificed much to bring you that message, Lady Bigfellow."

Caroline was silent. Sir Dorbin was right. The enormity of her selfishness was planting itself squarely in front of her, and she couldn't ignore it. "I'm sorry," she whispered, eyes downcast.

The knight moderated his tone. "Accepted. We're all mortal, and don't always act as we should, my own self included. Now, I will leave you to get dressed, Lady Bigfellow, but before we can leave, there is one thing that you must do."

The young woman looked up slowly at Sir Dorbin. "Yes?"

The knight moved over to Caroline, and to her slight surprise, sat down on the bed next to her and took her hand in his. He looked straight into her eyes.

"You and Aslan remind me much of Monsrek and myself, Caroline," he said with a slight smile. "Many is the time that I have been tempted to take that holy symbol off of his neck and choke him to death with the chain. However, I have been with Monsrek many years, long enough to know that what he does may not always be right, but that he believes it to be so. He deserves not only my respect, but my friendship as well. He has both."

Caroline sighed and gave Dorbin a sour look. "You want me to go apologize to Aslan, don't you?"

The knight shook his head. "No. I want you only to talk to him. What you choose to say is your choice entirely. And before you ask, no, this is not Aslan's idea. It is mine, and he has no idea I am telling you this." The knight got up and headed to the door. He pulled it open, looked back at Caroline, and said, "I'll be waiting in the common room. For some reason, teleporting makes me thirsty."

He left. Talass followed, shutting the door behind her after a look at Caroline. Lady Bigfellow took a deep breath and while getting dressed, began to think.

Aslan was sitting in the Tall Tales Room, his chair angled so it faced away from the door. He had shed his armor, and sat nursing a glass of wine, staring off at nothing in particular. Occasionally he would look to the corner of the room. Next to the chest, Grock and Mirage lay sleeping, tumbled together in a canine heap. The paladin sighed and took another sip of wine, listening to the sound of the wind and rain outside and the crackling of the logs in the fireplace.

He heard the sound of the door opening and then closing. Aslan didn't bother to look to see who it was. It was probably Sir Dorbin, come to tell him he was leaving with Caroline.

"Sleeping with the enemy, Grock? Whatever am I going to do with you?"

Aslan peered around the back of his chair. Caroline stood just inside the door, looking at him with a thin smile.

The paladin gave a curt nod of greeting. "Caroline."

Bigfellow went to the other chair and moved it so that it was directly facing Aslan, and then sat down in it. She leaned forward; her chin propped up on her hands.

Aslan spoke first. "Aren't you off to Willip?"

Caroline took a deep breath. This wasn't going to be easy, but that was no one's fault but her own.

"Soon," she said. "Listen- Aslan," she began, and then stopped.

She didn't know how to get the words out.

The paladin stepped in, his voice sharp. "I don't know what you've come to say, Caroline. I can only hope you're not looking for an apology, because you're not going to get one. I stand by everything I said yesterday. I'm glad that you're going to be able to see your husband, but that doesn't change anything from my point of view." Aslan sat up straighter in his chair. "You may be right in part, Caroline. I've never known romantic love, and I probably never will. But there-"

Caroline cut in. "Why not, Aslan?" she asked. "Was that part of your calling?"

He shook his head slowly. "No Caroline, it's just… part of who I am. Part of the choices I've made in my life. But I'm comfortable with that, just as you're comfortable being with Argo. I have no plans to change who I am, and you're just going to have to accept that!" Caroline winced as he glanced over at the wardogs, then back to her. He seemed to be having trouble controlling his temper. "There are other kinds of love than the romantic type you know. You- mean a lot to me, Caroline. I never wanted doing the right thing to come between us, but if it does. I'm willing to sacrifice that friendship for the greater good." He gave a small shrug, and his lips pressed together. "Seeing you in agony like that broke my heart Caroline, and that's the one part of me my Talent can't heal." He wiped his eyes. "We're so different, it seems. I think I've learned in the past two weeks that you really are Argo's wife." The paladin looked away, into the fireplace. "I swear, sometimes I want to take a hammer and knock some sense into the both of you."

"Because you're our friend?" asked Caroline softly.

Aslan looked back at her, his eyes sad. He shrugged. "I'd like to think so, but now- I honestly don't know if I can be." He looked away again.

Oh my god, Caroline thought. What have I done?

She slowly rose from her chair, and then knelt down in front of Aslan. She reached out, and cradled Aslan's bearded cheek, pushing it back to look at her. "I didn't come here for an apology, Aslan. I came here with one."

She stood up and gently kissed the top of his head. "I'm sorry, Aslan. Please forgive me," she whispered, tears falling now, down her cheeks and into his hair. He made no response. She began to walk back towards the door. "You can let me now if you do when I get back. Either way- I'll understand."

The paladin eyed her critically. "Tell me truthfully, Caroline. Why this sudden change of heart? Is it because you got what you wanted?"

She looked back at him and smiled, wiping the tears away. "Actually no, it was before I even knew Sir Dorbin was here. I had a little heart-to-heart with someone, and that really helped me to see things more clearly."

He grunted. "With Talass, I presume?"

She shook her head. "No. With Tojo."

Aslan scowled at her. "I said truthfully, Caroline. You know how much I hate lies."

"Ask him yourself." Her expression turned serious. "Take care of yourself Aslan, and if Nodyath shows up, tell him the offer is rescinded."

He nodded slowly. "I'll do that."

Caroline left. Aslan regarded Grock and Mirage again, who were both waking up now and yawning at him. He kept looking back at the door, his face creasing with bewilderment and doubt.

Tojo?

Aslan looked up at the roof and shook his head in bewilderment. "Lord Odin, I don't know anyone anymore."

Sir Dorbin stood up from the bar as Caroline emerged from the Tall Tales Room. Caroline looked shaky. He could tell she had been crying but decided not to ask her about it. After all, it was only to be expected. Instead, he held out his hand to her and smiled. "Shall we be going, Lady Bigfellow?"

"Can you give me five minutes, Sir Dorbin?" she asked.

"Of course, my Lady," the knight replied, surprised, "but I assumed you were anxious to have every-"

"Thanks! I'll be right down!" she said, already on her way up the stairs.

Yanigasawa Tojo sat on the floor in his room, working with a thin piece of wood about two feet square. He bent low over it, using a tiny knife to make cuts. On some areas, he would scrape away a surface layer of the wood to show a different texture. He reached over and adjusted the flame on the lantern which sat on the floor nearby.

The woodwork was an abstract representation of Negacha Province, back in Nippon. It was crude, but it was the best the samurai had to work with here. He straightened up again and examined it. A low forest covered much of the bottom, while wisps of mountains, dim in the mist, rose up in the background. To the left, a suggestion of a town could be seen, and next to it, running along the entire left side of the woodwork, a few carefully placed lines represented the sea. The narrow but deep Strait of Nippon that separated his homeland from Gravoland.

Tojo rarely worked on his woodcarving, but he had tonight. Since coming back from the Bigfellow cabin, he had found himself unable to sleep. This had not surprised him. He knew how memories, once unearthed, could cling to oneself.

He considered. Caroline had indeed surprised him tonight. He would never have expected her to ask such questions of him, and he had briefly been quite nervous indeed, unsure of her intentions. It was obvious that she was taking great pains to avoid dishonoring him, and she had succeeded, although the memories itself reminded Tojo of his failings. To be sure, not his greatest failing, but an unhappy time for him, nonetheless. Still, he mused, if in some strange way, it would help Caroline to recover, he considered it worth it.

Of course, he had not told her everything. Far from it. He knew that even if he had won Kyoko's heart, it would have been meaningless anyway. His teachers and his parents had not known about Kyoko, but he knew they never would have let him marry her. This romantic love that the gaijin seemed so obsessed about had little room in the stratified upper society of Nippon, being mostly the province of songs and stories. It certainly could not be permitted to sway a samurai from his vow of bushido. Perhaps if Kyoko had been a different kind of girl, the kind he had always dreamt about...

Tojo shook his head. Fantasies were useless things. He returned his attention to the woodcarving when he heard a faint sound behind him. He turned around. A small sheet of paper, the kind that Talass used in her religious writings, had been folded up and slipped underneath his door. Puzzled, he reached over, picked it up and unfolded it.

It was written in Nipponese, horribly crude, but just barely legible.

You did not lose Kyoko, Tojo. She lost you.

Thank you for your kindness.

Caroline Bigfellow

The samurai grinned, folded the paper back up and placed it in a pocket of his robes.

"Ieh doitashimashte, Bigferrow Carrorine," he whispered. "You are very wercome."

He blew out the lantern flame and went to bed.