23rd Day of Flocktime, 565 CY
The Cynewine House, Chendl, Furyondy
Lord Zeus. Give me strength.
The thought passed through Nesco's mind as the ranger slowly managed to rise up from the crouch she had been frozen in. Aslan was still smiling pleasantly at her, no doubt assuming her expression to be one of simple surprise at seeing him again.
The paladin was wearing a lightweight green shirt and brown trousers, both of what looked to be of a heavy silk of some kind. Despite the heat, he appeared comfortable enough. Aslan had a rather high forehead, but his hair was long in back, usually resting just above his shoulder blades. Today though, it was bound up in a ponytail, a style Nesco had not seen on him before. His beard was neat and trimmed, and genuine pleasure radiated out of those light blue eyes. The whole package just took Nesco's breath away. He looked absolutely... absolutely...
Lord Zeus. Give this man a clue.
Nesco tried on a wobbly smile as she stepped forward. "Aslan! It's wonderful to see you!" She stopped awkwardly right in front of him, watching his body language to see what kind of a greeting he might be expecting. Aslan also hesitated for a moment, and then made a move towards Nesco's hand, which she offered. She was expecting a warm handclasp, but the paladin instead lifted it to his lips and planted a small kiss there.
Cynewine felt as if gentle, invisible hands had lifted her into the air several inches, and then set her down again. The outside world was giving hints like it might start spinning around soon if this kind of reckless behavior continued.
I need a distraction. Where's a rampaging horde of orcs when you need one?
Aslan, looking self-satisfied, had already released Nesco's hand and was relaxing now. "I'm glad to see you too, Nesco. Of course, as you might expect, this is not just a social call."
That was something Cynewine could focus on, so she did, giving the paladin a curious look.
"Talass told you we'd be going back to the stockade, Nesco," Aslan announced, his grave voice at odds with the sly smile he was unable to hide. "It would be poor manners not to invite you along, don't you think?"
Nesco frowned at him. "Aslan, I don't have that option-"
"Apparently you do, Nesco," Sir Alexor interjected.
Her daughter stared at him, but it was apparent the Cynewine patriarch had just been given the news as well. "Your friends here from Willip have been in contact with the Royal Court through Comitello for some days now. They were unable to meet directly with his Royal Majesty, but Aslan here tells me that although their mission is not officially sanctioned, you have again been given leave to accompany them as a representative of the Crown."
"So if we die, it's going to cost us, but your soul still gets a free ride home," Aslan said, then added hastily, "Not that any of us is going to die, of course."
"I know, Aslan." Nesco smiled at him again and amazingly, could feel herself start to relax as well. As woman-to-man, she had no idea what to do about Aslan, but as a fellow party member, she was as comfortable as a well-worn pair of gloves. For the time being, she decided she'd play that role.
"Where are the others?" she asked. "Are they here?"
Aslan jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "They're running interference with your mother so I could speak with you."
Nesco grimaced. "I'll immediately put in a petition with the Royal Court to have them all awarded medals."
Her father, who was instructing Jeffers to lay out a cold lunch for everyone, turned and scowled at Nesco, but she was already motioning Aslan back towards the house with an innocent hand on his shoulder.
"I'm going to take a bath and change," she said to him, embarrassed suddenly for no good reason. "I'll see you in the dining hall shortly."
The paladin nodded, seemingly unaware of any discomfort on her part. "Until then."
Nesco Cynewine hurried through the hallways of her home, calling for a bath to be drawn much more urgently than she usually did for such things. She dashed up the stairs towards her room to grab a few things, her mind racing furiously all the while. Near the top, she suddenly stopped dead and grasped at the banister as the realization struck her.
Mother, Father, and all of them together in the same room? How can I possibly be looking forward to this? What in the name of the Nine Hells was I thinking?
She took one more deep breath and continued her dash towards her bedroom, making one more silent request to her deity as she did so.
Lord Zeus. Please strike me dead with a thunderbolt.
Although the ruler of Mount Olympus apparently saw fit not to strike Nesco Cynewine down with a bolt from the blue, as she slowly walked towards the dining hall the ranger could not suppress a sigh of relief that her god had indeed been listening.
The maid had informed Nesco during her bath that Lady Gella Cynewine had suddenly remembered an "urgent" appointment she had elsewhere in the city, and with pleasant words and a smile tight enough to make a sculptor jealous had quickly departed the mansion, pausing only long enough to grab young Lencon by the hand and rush out, the poor boy's feet barely touching the ground.
The mood in the Cynewine House, guests and servants alike, lightened noticeably after that.
Nesco's step quickened as she heard the babble of a multitude of familiar voices from inside the dining hall. It'll be wonderful to see them all again, she thought to herself, allowing that good feeling- that feeling of belonging- to sweep over her as she turned the corner into the large room.
All conversation died.
Aslan and the others were standing around the long rectangular table that spanned the length of the hall, obviously waiting for their hostess' arrival before taking their seats. Jeffers, directing the flow of servants bringing the food and beverages, kept his eyebrows from leaping up off his face entirely only with some effort. Even Nesco's father was staring at her with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.
Everyone else was simply gawking.
And Nesco Cynewine achieved that same kind of disconnect that Cygnus had told her about earlier, back outside the stockade. Her mind seemed to leave her body and float effortlessly about the room. She had a bird's-eye view of the guests, the meal, and even herself.
Her astral self blinked.
Nesco, she told herself. You're wearing your dress.
Nesco Cynewine owned all of one dress. To the surprise of no one who knew her, she hated it. As a member of the nobility however, there were bound to be some occasions where her presence would be required at upper class functions; not as a member of the Azure Order of the Hart, but as a daughter of the House of Cynewine.
She had received the dress six years ago, and had probably worn it about as many times, and under protest each time. It was woolen but made of the lightest and softest wool that could be spun. It was dyed a deep azure (of course) with white highlights and trim and featured long sleeves that reached down almost to the floor. A midnight-blue surcoat, open in the front, was worn over it. Subtle floral patterns were embroidered around the outfit. The dress featured a deep, U-shaped neckline that seemed to be adequately fulfilling the dressmakers' design of where to draw the viewer's eye.
On her feet, the ranger wore velvet-lined pattens, and whatever jewelry she had been able to find had been haphazardly placed, hopefully on the correct body parts.
Nesco Cynewine couldn't remember changing into any of this, although now that she thought on it, the last twenty minutes or so had been pretty much of a blur. She recalled that her bath, while cleansing her well enough, had failed utterly to relax her, and she could now remember one of the servants asking her what clothes should be made ready for her upon her emergence...
She moved slowly, jerkily, into the room, not even sure of what expression to attempt to plaster onto her face.
It was Elrohir who finally managed to speak first.
"Lady Cynewine," her fellow ranger said, bowing to her. "We are honored." With a quick, permissive-seeking glance at his wife, the party leader cleared his throat and added, "You look exquisite today."
"She certainly does," came a voice from Nesco's left. "However did you manage that?"
Nesco gasped, looking over. A small portion of her barely-functioning brain had noticed the large man in plate mail standing off in the corner when she had entered, but she had assumed it was Argo Bigfellow. Her all-seeing astral self had apparently missed him completely. Now she could do nothing as a red flush which was creeping up her face anyway suddenly accelerated its travels.
"Sir Juntaros," she managed.
The Furyondan knight seemed torn between his entrancement at Nesco's appearance, and his realization that it was surely not for his benefit. He removed his gaze from Elrohir, of whom he had asked his question, back to Cynewine. "You look even more beautiful than usual in that dress, my lady," he said with a bow of his own. "Just as I told you the last time you wore it," he added as he straightened up, a sad smile on his face.
Nesco was heartbroken. She hadn't wanted to do this to Sir Juntaros. The knight, only an inch or so shorter than Argo and with the same powerful build, began scanning the other faces in the room.
He's looking for the one that I'm wearing this dress for, thought Nesco. But that one doesn't even know.
Juntaros' eyes finally settled upon the one individual who went on staring at Nesco after everyone else had stopped.
Cygnus.
Nesco blinked in utter confusion and anguish. "Everything made sense when I woke up this morning," she whispered to herself...
The sound of silverware clinking against plates melded with several separate conversations overlapping at once. The lunch had been in full swing for a half-hour now, and no one seemed in a hurry to end it.
Except the lone female ranger present.
Beginning the meal (Nesco mentally reminded herself to thank Jeffers for breaking that hideous silence) had seemed to restore the atmosphere in the dining hall. The Elrohir party marveled at the decor, the architecture and the food. They all seemed eager to fill Nesco in on what had happened since their last meeting. While Tojo's story was not mentioned due to privacy concerns, Nesco had looked over and met the samurai's violet eyes. The small smile that had graced Tojo's face was enough to let her know that, at least for now, things were all right on that front. She managed to relax a bit at that and gave a non-forced smile back at him.
Sir Juntaros, ever the chivalrous warrior, was again Nesco's good friend, or at least acting the part. He spoke freely with the others, and seemed genuinely interested, even impressed, by their exploits. When the tale of Nesco's defeat of Captain Stalworth and her acquisition of Sundancer was related, he glanced back over at her as if seeing her with new eyes.
Grimdegn, overjoyed to be sitting with such august company, gawked at Aslan. "Can you really turn into an ogre?" he asked in awe over the table.
"Only when he's hungry," came the response from the youth's left, where Zantac was sitting. Grimdegn laughed, choking a bit on a piece of cold pheasant. Aslan scowled at the Willip wizard, who merely shrugged, smiling.
"Someone has to fill in for Argo, you know."
The uncomfortable silence returned, albeit for a different reason. Nesco put down her knife and decided to try and break through it directly.
"I'm no substitute for Argo, Elrohir," she said solemnly to her fellow ranger.
Elrohir appeared about ready to reply, but Aslan uncharacteristically cut in.
"You're quite right, Lady Cynewine," the paladin began, his voice carrying a hard edge that Nesco found disturbing. "You were still standing when that horrible cloak-thing was destroyed. Argo wasn't. You delivered the deathblow to Captain Stalworth; Argo was about to receive one. You performed outstanding acts of courage when you, Elrohir and I were battling our way beneath the temple in Highport-"
"Aslan," Elrohir spoke over his friend, "I ordered Argo to stay topside back in the temple. He-"
"It doesn't matter, Elrohir!" Aslan wasn't quite shouting, but it was close. "Nesco is here. Argo isn't. Nesco is putting the welfare of the group first. Argo has chosen not to. No indeed," he finished, pointing a fork at Nesco while still looking at the party leader, "Lady Cynewine is no substitute for Bigfellow. Right now, she's a hundred times better."
The paladin took a deep breath, apparently trying to calm himself. For the first time that afternoon, Nesco couldn't look at him.
"Argo is doing what he feels he has to, Aslan." Cygnus' voice was quiet, but it carried well in the newest silence.
Aslan turned to the tall mage, his temperature rising again. "The Sir Dorbin party is back at the inn by now, Cygnus! And according to the sending Elrohir received from Monsrek, Unru has been healed and is with them again. What protection can Argo possibly offer Caroline that they can't?"
Cygnus paused a moment before replying. "The love of a spouse."
Aslan brushed this off. "That's not always enough, Cygnus," he growled- and then stopped.
The paladin's light blue eyes went wide, and then closed in sorrow. By the time he opened them again, everyone else's attention had moved over to Cygnus.
The Aardian wizard was trembling slightly. His arms and neck seemed to withdraw slightly into the folds of his brown frock like a turtle. His eyes looked out a large window towards the midday sun, as if he was searching for something there. "I know, Aslan," he whispered. "I know."
"Cygnus," Aslan began, his voice hoarse, all traces of anger gone. "Cygnus, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean-"
"That's all right, Aslan," Cygnus waved a hand in dismissal. "I know you didn't." The magic-user picked up a cloth napkin and dabbed his eyes with it, then took a deep breath and seemed to collect himself again. "Arguments come and go," he said, looking not at Aslan now, but at Nesco with eyes that seemed both sad and wise.
"Friendship. Love. These are eternal. Not even a god can stop them."
At this point, Sir Alexor Cynewine, who had been extremely quiet during the entire meal, suddenly raised his glass.
"To Friendship!" he suddenly called out. "To Love!"
Awkwardly, with stops and starts, everyone joined in. Friendship and Love washed over the table.
And awkwardly, with stops and starts, the smiles returned to the table as well...
Lunch was over. The party had left, returning to the local inn they were staying at. They would stay there until tomorrow morning, when Aslan would begin the teleportation process that would take them all back to the Pomarj. Nesco was due to leave on the following day, the 25th, but she would confer with the others tomorrow, and bring herself up to speed on their latest battle plans.
There had been goodbye hugs (Tojo excepted, of course), but these were happy hugs; welcome back hugs. It was as if that whole terrible scene in the chapel was being replayed backwards.
Not that everything was perfect, of course. Nesco could see in Sir Juntaros' eyes that he had finally realized the true situation, although she couldn't tell if he had accepted it or not. The knight had kept glancing over at Cygnus.
For his part, the tall magic-user had made no move to hug Nesco, and when she had taken it upon herself to do so, she had felt him stiffen up and tremble like a frightened little boy. He had mumbled something polite and indistinct before pulling away, no longer meeting her eyes.
And of course, she had saved Aslan for last.
For his part, seeing what had gone before him, the paladin was ready with a hug when the time came.
Lord Zeus, Nesco thought. Please tell me what this is I'm feeling.
She pressed her cheek against Aslan's beard, and was surprised that it tickled. Suppressing a giggle, she just let the feeling- the scent of the man- wash over her.
If it wasn't for the confusion that kept filling her heart, Nesco was pretty sure this was what traveling to the Seven Heavens would feel like.
That, and the fear.
Now she stood silently, watching the servants clear the table. Jeffers had caught her eye at one point, but she couldn't quite read the expression there.
"I shall clean and pack your adventuring gear," he said, clearly pleased with accenting that word. Before leaving the dining hall, the Cynewine's chief manservant turned around briefly.
"Do be careful, milidy."
As Jeffers left the room, Nesco's father caught her eye. She caught her breath.
Sir Alexor was not a man to drink to excess, and it was debatable whether he had done so now. The knight's stance was a little unsteady, and his hand trembled as he handed his empty goblet off to a serving girl. His hazel eyes took a moment to focus on his daughter, but when he spoke, his voice was strong and steady.
"Jeffers has beaten me to the punch, Nesco, but the sentiment remains. You're going into situations the likes of which even I've probably never had to face."
Nesco nearly snorted in disbelief. "Please, Father. I'm not half the-"
"Listen to me, Nessie," Alexor interrupted, holding up his hand. His hazel eyes caught and held hers.
She was silent. Her father hadn't called her that in years. Over a decade.
"I... I'm not like Helgin," the knight began, referring to his eldest son. "He was the kind one, the gentle one, the one that all of you turned to when you needed someone to talk to, or a shoulder to lean on. To this day, I don't know how he was able to be all that and still be the warrior he was." He shook his head in disbelief.
Nesco slowly walked over to her father. Alexor was right- he was not a gentle man by nature, and Nesco was unsure of what he was looking for now, or what she could do to help him find it. And then to her immense surprise, he leaned over to her and kissed her on top of her head- something else he hadn't done in years.
"I meant what I said earlier, Nessie," he said into her hair. "Be careful. The wrong choice in combat will end your life. The wrong choice in love will haunt you until the end of it."
He quickly turned and left.
Nesco Cynewine silently stood there, resplendent in her gown. Silent servants moved past her, cleaning and tidying.
She thought about everything that had happened before and wondered what was yet to come.
Lord Zeus, she prayed. Help me.