Chapter 5

Quest: Recover the Lost Supplies

So...much…exposition! (Sorry for the lag, real life and all that.) Enjoy!

Hidden Ember wasn't so pretty in the harsh light of day. Without the bright colours and softening cover of darkness it was the same washed out, dilapidated scenery that she'd been swamped with yesterday during her trek across the Sea of Sands. The ruins, no longer dressed up, now looked just like any other graveyard of the Old Ones, broken bones poking up jaggedly from the endless, rolling waves of sand. The sky was aggressively blue, the bright sun hurt Bea's eyes and the strengthening wind carried grains that grated on her skin.

"Someday all this will be a great city once more." She turned her attention to Morlund, accepting the steaming mug that he handed over with a sheepish expression that belied his chipper tone. His arm swept out in a grandiose gesture that encompassed the view from the third floor balcony where they currently sat. "It will be a sight to behold, even during the day." He slid onto the bench seat across from her, then rested his forearms on the wooden tabletop and offered her a tentative smile. Bea couldn't muster a smile in return, she was still too stiff and sore due to the events of the previous day, eyes gritty after a night of broken sleep, so instead she took a sip from the mug and tried not to look too irritable. The brew tasted strongly of medicinal berries, her nose wrinkled at the bitterness on her tongue but she drank some more and hoped that it would take effect quickly so it stopped hurting to breathe.

The bruised areas on her ribs, arm and head where she'd been struck by flying luggage was already beginning to tingle and burn almost pleasantly thanks to the numbing salvebrush that had been applied not long ago, the herb seller downstairs had assured her that the marks would clear up in just a few days. With a little food in her belly she might even begin feeling more human soon. A change of clothes couldn't hurt either…

Thoughts of her luggage had her glancing over Morlund's shoulder towards the northern horizon. Abadund had informed her that Erend and his men had set out at first light to retrieve the scattered cargo and, even though little over an hour had passed since their departure, her attention kept drifting back to the far skyline in search of them. She told herself it was because she was concerned about her belongings, which, in fairness, were priceless to her. But she also couldn't help the way her thoughts kept returning to a particular Vanguardsman. Each time he slipped into her mind, her stomach did a little, excited flip, even though the idea of actually seeing him had her wanting to run and hide.

Bea drained her cup, placed it carefully in front of her then folded her hands on the table. She took a deep breath, meeting Morlunds gaze as she measured her words. "What of the tavern? Can I see it?" Her heart sank as she watched Morlund's guilty expression deepen.

"About that," he motioned to the tabletop and she followed the gesture, eyes skimming over the mess of paperwork that was spread out along the long wooden surface as if that would somehow explain for him. "Since we commissioned your services back in Meridian there's been an, uh, change in circumstance." Her eyes flew back to his face and her expression must have betrayed her dismay because the tinker immediately held his hands out placatingly, "nothing for you to worry about, it just means that work on the tavern, on everything, has been delayed. We still fully intend to make good on our promises of work and accommodation. It will just look a little different…"

Bea felt her expression drop further, "how d-different?"

Morlund rubbed the back of his neck, shooting a pleading look towards Abadund who sat at the far end of the table largely ignoring them as he studied his ledgers with an intense air. The shard counter must have felt the weight of his partner's pleading gaze as he looked up at them, expression immediately hardening. "Oh no," he shook his head and wagged an ink stained finger reprovingly, "you made the bloated promises against my explicit counsel so now you shall face," he waved a hand towards Bea, "her face."

Morland gave a heavy sigh, grimacing when he met her eye. "Ah, Bea, please don't look at me like that. I know I made some, ah, enthusiastic promises…" Abadund gave a loud snort, this time not lifting his eyes from his ledgers, and Morlund groaned theatrically, "yes, I know. You were right all along, it wasn't enough time. I got carried away. Again. Meridian wasn't built in a day etcetera etcetera, but how was I to know that…" he broke off, cleared his throat, then reached across the table to take Bea's hand gently. "You will still be paid to perform. For the time being this can be your stage," he gestured over the balcony towards the lowest floor of the tower and arranged his face into a hopeful, beaming smile.

This time Bea didn't follow his gesture, instead continuing to look at Morlund with sinking disappointment. There was no promised tavern? No stage? No quarters of her own? Visions of herself starting a new life in Hidden Ember, visions that had been fed by Morlunds grandiose depictions, began to fray at the edges. Uncertainty crept in. Had she been taken in by these three men? Allowed herself to be convinced to move to the middle of nowhere because she desperately wanted a place where she could finally put down roots? She was supposed to be part of something new and exciting, making an independent life for herself doing the thing she loved more than anything, making a home.

She could feel her throat closing and chest tightening, her eyes flicked towards Abadund who had once again turned his full attention towards them and was watching her reaction carefully. When their gazes met he rose and crossed to their end of the table, a piece of paper in his hand. He sat next to her and held out the document. "Our contract." His voice was low and serious, his steady gaze not leaving hers as he pointed to the signatures at the bottom. "I don't intend to break the agreements we made. As soon as the supplies are recovered from the convoy, work on the tavern can begin in earnest. With the extra hands I've hired to catch up on lost time I expect it will be a matter of a month or so before you are able to move into your new lodgings. Until then we will do everything we can to make sure you are as comfortable as possible. Stemmur already has a tent set up for you and, in recognition of our tardiness, we will pay you regardless of whether or not you perform."

The knot in Bea's chest gradually loosened as his assurances washed over her. She turned to look at Morlund, whose face was guileless and contrite, then back to Abadund whose unwavering gaze was steady and reassuring.

She finally gave a small nod, jumping a little when Morlund let out a great whoosh of air in a relieved exhale that stirred the hair on her temples. "It's going to be amazing, Bea." His grin was back, excitement radiating out of him, "You'll see. Your name will go down in history as the very first resident performing artist of Hidden Ember. There will be a plaque with your name on it. Word is going to spread and people are going to come from everywhere to hear you sing."

Even as Abadund got up from the table with a practiced eye roll and thinning of his lips, Bea couldn't help the small smile that lifted the corner of her mouth, her moment of doubt ebbing as Morlund launched back into his familiar sales pitch. His vision and enthusiasm was infectious, just as it had been right from their very first meeting many months ago back in Meridian. She'd been sceptical then too, not sure what to make of the strange man who'd accosted her after a show one night, cheeks flush with drink as he'd showered her with compliments for her performance that evening. He was loud and exuberant, even for an Oseram. At first she'd assumed he was drunk and hitting on her, not an uncommon occurrence for all the barmaids that worked at The Shadows Arrow. Still, he'd definitely flattered her ego and, although she'd essentially brushed him off that night, she'd been secretly pleased to see him return the next.

The second night he hadn't touched his ale throughout her performance, just watched with a broad smile, occasionally turning to his two companions to stage whisper and gesture emphatically. It was hard not to notice every move he made, his fixation had been in direct contrast to the patrons around him who were more interested in their ale and games of Strike. Again he'd approached her later, this time sober as he complimented her enthusiastically. This time Bea had been slower to dismiss him, finding herself hesitating only briefly before accepting his invitation to join them at their table. He'd remembered to introduce himself and his two friends, who'd also commented on how much they'd enjoyed listening to her sing.

For nearly a week Morlund had come to see her with Stemmur and Abadund in tow, each night staying to catch her after her shift and engage her in conversation. In a short space of time they had started to feel like old friends and it wasn't long before she found herself relaxing in their company, her tongue loosening until she was able to answer the questions they peppered her with. She'd come to enjoy their nightly critique of her show and the easy banter they shared as they regaled her with stories from their own years in the entertainment business, which was why she felt a stab of disappointment when they informed her that it was time for them to leave the Sun City. Only then had they explained that the three of them were only passing through, that they had come to Meridian in order to make arrangements for regular shipments of supplies to be transported to a place called Hidden Ember.

The trio of travelling showmen had then launched into the lengthy tale of how they had set out to explore the Forbidden West, following in the footsteps of Morlund's grandfather who had been an adventurous and profitable delver in his day. She heard all about how the men had discovered the ruins of an old city buried in the desert, a place the Old Ones called Las Vegas, seemingly built solely for the purpose of entertainment. Bea had felt her eyes growing even wider as they told of their adventures delving beneath the Tower of Tears, of the embers they had discovered there, but then almost lost when the tower had flooded. They'd been on the verge of giving up when Meridian's saviour had appeared out of nowhere to drain the waters and battle the Tideripper that guarded the spoils.

Right on the heels of their riveting tale, Morlund had offered her the 'opportunity of a lifetime'; to travel deeper into the Forbidden West to join them in their new settlement. Spend her evenings performing for the residents, entertaining them and boosting their morale each day after the backbreaking work of establishing a new village. They promised to provide her with everything she needed, allowing her the creative freedom to choose her own set list and even offering to fund the purchase of a few new instruments to add to her collection.

Still reeling from the outlandish tale of Hidden Embers origins, Bea had felt her doubt slowly shift towards hopeful interest as she listened to their proposal. She began to let herself imagine a life free from the fear that had dogged her heels for most of her life, picturing herself in a safe place where she could start over and build a future for herself.

"Come on," Morlund's voice pulled her back to the present, he had stood and was motioning her to do the same. "Allow me to show you around the camp." His open, eager expression told her how much he wanted her to like the settlement.

Bea rose to her feet, shaking off thoughts of the past as an answering smile pulled at her mouth. A smile which only widened when she realised that, while they'd been talking, her aches had significantly reduced. The gloomy, dire thoughts that had been nagging at her intermittently since yesterday faded to the background once more and she felt a prickle of excitement at the prospect of getting to know Hidden Ember a little better. "Lead the way."

"We roll out in ten!" Erend lowered his hands from around his mouth and cast a look back over his shoulder, returning Darold's nod before crossing to the first in the line of carts. They were proving relatively easy for his men to righten, the damage surprisingly limited considering the size and veracity of the Behemoth that had carved a path through them. Most of the work had involved repacking the supplies and repairing the straps that had held the boxes and crates in place. Only a few needed their wheels, axels or handles repaired thanks to the soft sand that had cushioned their impact.

The first half of the convoy was already ready to transport back to Hidden Ember. Erend had directed the bulk of the freebooters to deal with that task while a small number stayed back with him to finish preparing the other half. He gave the order, folding his arms over his chest while he watched the men and women curse and strain under heavy loads, heaving wheels through thick sand. Once they were underway he turned to the remaining carts, some of which had been flung further than others. His gaze landed on the one that still lay completely turned over at a drunken angle, brows drawing together as he remembered the girl that had crouched beneath.

What had her name been? Something short, typical of an Utaru. Bo…Bea, yes, that was what the other travellers had called her. His mind had strayed back to her several times since the previous evening, distracting him unexpectedly at odd moments. Although he'd only been close to her for a few moments, something about her had caught his interest. Maybe it was her slightly odd appearance, a strange mix of cultures that reminded him of the way Aloy liked to pick and choose her armour, weapons and body paint from the tribes she'd visited during her travels.

Or maybe it was as simple as the fact she had pretty eyes; deep, earthy brown iris' accentuated by long, thick black lashes. He hadn't been able to help noticing that she had a nice, hourglass shape too. The soft silk outfit she wore was distinctly of Carja make, designed to accentuate the dip of her waist and flare of her rounded hips. She was, he realised, exactly the kind of girl he'd have happily spent time chasing back in the days before Ersa had told him it was time to grow up.

A small, sad smile lifted the corner of his mouth as he thought of his sister, then he pressed his lips together and forced his attention back to the wagons. He had work to do. He squinted up at the sun, judging its passage across the sky. They were making good time but would still have to hustle if they wanted to get the wagons back to Hidden Ember before nightfall.

"And here it is, I've saved the best for last!" Morlund planted his fists on his hips and nodded in a satisfied way as he looked over the ruin. "This is where we will build Troupers Shade, a venue where patrons can be entertained in style while they eat and drink." Bea tilted her head, squinting at the ruin as she tried to look beyond the ancient, bleached stone and see what he saw.

Her tour of Hidden Ember had taken up a surprisingly large portion of the day as Morlund took her through what the camp had to offer. There wasn't much more to the Tower of Tears than what she'd already noticed for herself, the exception being the elevator shaft set into the far wall which, Morlund told her, was where they had delved for the embers before accidentally flooding the chambers below the Tower of Tears. According to the tinker, the tower they used was merely the very tip of what had once been a mighty building, long buried beneath the sands. Bea had peered curiously down the shaft but shaken her head when offered an expedition below. Despite never trying, she strongly suspected that she would be terrible at delving; she was no Oseram.

She was also fascinated to learn that the tower was a source of unlimited water, that it had, in fact, been completely flooded shortly after the three showmen had arrived and triggered some kind of trap when they had begun delving. It was what had prompted the men to name the tower in the first place, the water dripping down its walls as though the building itself wept. Apparently the Old Ones had devised a series of pipes to bring water into what otherwise was an arid desert, allowing them to sustain a city that was home to thousands of people. It was more than enough to support the small village that now camped in its shade, bubbling up from the sand to create a giant pool of fresh water that continually replenished itself.

Next Morlund had then shown her to her tent, erected, as promised, by Stemmur who she'd yet had a chance to greet. Apparently the old performer had gone to a nearby camp to the west to trade and would be returning that evening. Bea had surveyed her accommodations with some trepidation. It was fine so far as tents went, a sturdy wooden frame with sides that could be rolled down to let in the night breeze or air out the tent during the day. It even came with a low pallet that looked much more comfortable than the bedroll she'd been sleeping on the last few months. The problem was its size, and that was only because of the amount of luggage she had with her. She'd been expecting proper lodgings where she could unpack the large amount of equipment she'd brought; the tent was simply not big enough. She had sighed, filing it away as an issue to sort out later when her trunks and cases actually arrived. Perhaps there was room somewhere within the tower for her to use as storage?

From there Bea has spent the next few hours being introduced to various people around the camp. Oseram workers who, like her, had travelled in search of new opportunities. Miners, carpenters, masons, forge smiths and tinkers. Then there were the various merchants, freebooters, delvers and even entertainers like herself, all coming together to work towards a common dream. More than once she had wondered how Abadund was funding this project. Even with the Oseram being well known for banding together and supporting each other, it would still cost a fortune just to feed all these people, let alone what it would take to transport food and ale to the remote settlement.

"So, what do you think?" Morlund was watching her expectantly.

Bea scanned the ruins more slowly this time, looking closely at the jagged pillars jutting up from the sand. She nodded as she walked up the embankment, passing through the opening that she assumed would be the entrance to the tavern, the tinker close on her heels. "This would be the main floor?"

"Yes!" Morlund overtook her in a few long strides, excitement shining out from his face as he began pointing. "Once we clear out the sand and reinforce the foundations we can begin to rebuild the walls with sandstone. The bar would be set over there," a sweep of his arm, "and the elevated stage will take up the length of that wall with plenty of room for people to dance. I want high ceilings to achieve the best acoustics, and over here there will be large windows looking out to the northeast so that diners will have the best view of the lights." He grabbed her hand to pull her along, his words filling in the spaces until she could practically see the tavern taking shape before her. "Back here there will be a massive kitchen, the chef here makes the best brew battered wedges you've ever tasted, all she needs is a proper workspace."

Morlund stopped, dropping her hand so he could gesture with both of his, "over there will be a staircase that leads to the upstairs accommodations. Yours will be the biggest, with a private balcony so you can sit and look at the sunrise, enjoy the lights in the evenings, or just look out over the rolling sand dunes." His expression was dreamy as he turned to her, "Doesn't that sound amazing?"

Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, Bea nodded emphatically. She looked over the ruins and this time the future took form in her mind's eye, laying over the drab buildings the same way the colourful lights had bathed the sky the previous night. She could feel Hidden Ember enveloping her, folding her into its tapestry so that her dreams became part of the rich pattern. Maybe this was really it, just maybe she had finally found a place to call home.

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