Chapter 12 - Room and Board

"This place is absolutely magnificent," Maeve marvelled out loud, wide eyes surfing on her surrounding as Robin and Leisa flanked her on both sides like watchful escorts. "I've never seen anything like it."

Amazed by the grey-veined white granite columns spread on either side of the long and quiet corridor where they were marching, their footsteps muffled by the burgundy carpet draped on the granite floor, Maeve was at a loss of words to describe the beauty and grandiosity of yet another part of the Council's interior. Small flames flickering in silver reflector lanterns hanging on either side of the walls in iron brackets were casting a gentle light all around, lengthening shadows and bathing everything with peaceful calm, a soothing balm for her growing exhaustion.

"Wait till you see your room in Er-", Leisa snickered in amusement, but quickly caught herself midway in her sentence and cleared her throat. "-in here."

Yanked out of her wonder, Maeve momentarily frowned at the Radakeel's words but then, stopping before a massive mahogany door with its fine wood carved with tiny vines and flowers, Robin extended a hand towards the room hidden beyond and smiled. "These are your chambers for the night."

Awed by the intricate details of the rich red door, Maeve couldn't help but run the tip of her fingers over the delicate motifs to feel the sleek edges of the carver's expert work.

Straightening her back, Leisa then bid them farewell for the night. "This is where I take my leave. Treat her well," she declared, bowing her head politely and leveling a knowing look in Robin's direction before retreating further down the granite hall.

As the dark-skinned woman disappeared behind one of the many other mahogany doors, Robin gallantly pushed hers open and invited her in. "After you."

When Maeve walked into the room, she froze at once, her breath catching in her throat and words sticking on her tongue. Her personal chambers for the night were fit for royalty, no more, no less, and from where she stood she couldn't even tell how many rooms the suite had.

The floor was covered everywhere with the same burgundy mat, the rich color matching the heavy curtains that hung lavishly above a pair of large windows at the opposite end of the room. Reflector lamps were already lit, plunging the magnificent room in warm golden light and creating a soothing atmosphere which was heightened by the beckoning invitation of a large cushioned couch facing an impressive fireplace made of fine dark stones.

Turning slowly on her heels to take in every detail of the breath-taking room, Maeve caught sight of a massive bathtub in a room to her right, and then a large canopy bed draped by a heavy swath of dark red cloth in another room to her left.

When she finally finished pivoting around in astonishment, Robin was crouched by the fireplace, working on igniting a flame with a flint and steel. Raising his head to glance at her, an amused smile hung at the corner of his lips. "You like it?"

"Like it?" Maeve repeated, not believing her ears. "It's fit for a queen! I can't sleep here!"

Robin laughed at her excitement. "It's one of the guest rooms. It's no problem."

Still astounded by the luxury she was being granted, Maeve joined him by the fireplace where he was down on one knee, tempted to light the fire herself with a flick of her hand to catch him off guard, but instead she simply regarded him as he worked, steady hands moving expertly to ingite a spark. "Why are you doing this?" she finally spoke quietly.

"The nights can be cold without a fire. I'm just-"

"No," Maeve shook her head. "I mean why are you doing all of this? Why are you being so incredibly accomodating and generous to me? You barely even know me after all."

Concentrating on the flint and the steel in his hands, his broad shoulders rippling under his shirt with every thump, Robin pressed his lips together before replying. "You're right," he admitted blankly. "You're a complete stranger, and I still can't figure out if you're a spy sent by the Blood Raiders to detect a flaw in our inner defenses and slaughter us all from the inside."

Maeve felt as if he had just struck her, his words sharply bouncing off the walls as she blinked wordlessly. His statement was bold and out of place, yet there was a subtle trace of sarcasm in his voice that wasn't lost on her and she quickly wondered whether he was toying with her or not.

When a small flame finally ignited in the fireplace, a kind smile gently lit up his features and he looked up to meet her gaze, his witty blue eyes turning soft. "I've had the whole day to get to know you, Maeve," he said. "I know you're brave, honest, strong and compassionate. You're willing to cross the Blind Mountains to help a man you've never even met. You're selfless. You put the lives of others before your own. You're no Blood Raider."

Maeve watched him silently as he focused on the fireplace once again to toss a log into the timid flames, making shadows dance around them like lurking spirits. "I still don't know how I can accept this," she said, looking around at the magnificent room, afraid to touch anything, every piece of furniture being way too rich for her blood.

When he was satisfied by the gentle intensity of the fire, the flames hissing and crackling softly in the dark, Robin stood up and brushed his hands on his knees. "Has anyone ever told you how hard you are to please?" he mocked.

Maeve rolled her eyes and flashed him a grimacing smile, before giving in to the exhaustion in her bones and slumping down on the couch.

Robin chuckled at her grimace and sat down beside her, equally tired.

For a moment they just remained there, quiet and unmoving, listening to the hisses of the flames twirling in the hearth, with every pop echoing loudly in the room around them. It was a moment before Maeve fully realized how drained she was, her limbs heavy and numb like lead, the accumulated tension in her muscles slowly unwinding as she abandoned herself to the silence and the comforting peace of the room, although her troubled mind was much harder to put to rest.

After several minutes Robin finally spoke, his voice colored with concern. "How did it go with Robert? Did he know about the man you're looking for?"

Regret pooled within her as she stared at the crackling fire, Robert's tale ringing in her ears. "Aye, but unfortunately I'm afraid he's already dead. Robert said Jacob was badly hurt during the raid and I doubt he survived this long without succumbing to his wounds."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Robin apologized sincerely, and quickly added a few encouraging words. "Maybe he's still alive. You never know."

"I guess I'll find out in a month," Maeve said, trying her best to remain optimistic as the log softly spit and cracked before them.

It was another long string of seconds before Robin spoke again, his voice thick with misery. He leaned forward in his seat to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a loud exhale, a heavy hand wiping across his face as his shoulders sunk in defeat. "I can't believe I'm taking this many people, women and children no less, across the Blind Mountains. It's a suicide mission."

Tilting her head to study him better, Maeve watched as he stared into the fire unblinking, like a lost soul seeking answers with the spirits, the flames flickering with a golden hue on his face and carving his tensed features with dark shadows; a General wearily sharing his fears and concerns to a stranger in the night, perhaps because he was afraid to voice them out loud to his own men. "Lilian said that one man out of three makes it out alive on the other side," Maeve recalled with caution, the words of his pretend-girlfriend earlier in the tavern echoing in her head. "Is that true?"

The set of his jaw hardened at her words and he reluctantly nodded, without meeting her eyes. "I'm afraid so. I usually get no more than fifty men across at a time. It's much easier to go unnoticed by the Skinwalkers and the Kawasseas that way. Still, people always get killed."

As her mind drifted to the cursed woods they would begin trekking across tomorrow, the list of questions she had locked away earlier in the courtyard finally rose to her attention again. "Those Skinwalkers, what kind of creatures are they exactly, aside from being blind and deadly?"

Robin sighed, as if he didn't quite know where to begin. "Well, no one really knows where they come from. If they walked up straight on their legs instead of crawling on all fours they'd be just like us-I mean, humanoid-except that their skin would still be white as snow and sickeningly pasty. They live in caves by the thousands, coming out at night to hunt because they can't stand the light of day. It's as if their species spent thousands of years hiding in the dark. That's probably why they're completely blind and grossly pale. They must have developed every sense to its highest potential except for the sense of sight. When night settles in, the woods become as silent as a graveyard and before you even know it, they charge you like a hawk diving on its prey from out of nowhere and rip you apart. You would think their blindness is advantageous for us, but their hearing is as sharp as their fangs and claws. A twig breaking under your boot, the hiss of a torch's flame, the subtle ring of a sword being unsheathed, and you're as good as dead."

Maeve listened closely, her dread for the upcoming arrival of dawn growing stronger by the minute but she urged herself to keep a sharp focus. "What about the chimes you ordered today? You said they were a special kind of weapon. What are they for?"

Robin paused, eyes casting downward as he seemed to hesitate before saying the word. "Diversion."

As sudden realization hit her, Maeve felt the color drain from her face. "What? You mean bait?"

"It's the only way to keep the Skinwalkers' attention away from the main troop," Robin explained, although he looked far from being pleased with his answer. "They follow the ringing of the bells wherever it goes."

Maeve licked her lips, pondering her next words. "I don't know much about fishing but I know that in the end it never turns out good for the bait," she said carefully. "What happens to those wielding the bells?"

"Some ringers make it," Robin replied quietly, the burden of painful memories hidden in his eyes. "It depends on how vicious the Skinwalkers are."

Maeve's mind reeled in her head as she tried to conceive how such a suicidal diversion could be executed. "How do you decide which of your men is going to serve as snacks for those beasts?"

"I don't," Robin answered simply. "Every soldier knows it's his duty to use his bell when a Skinwalker ventures too close and threatens the safety of the people."

His voice was calm and resolute, ringing with the unspoken stories of all those who had sacrificed themselves during previous treks to save the lives of others.

Maeve was simply horrified. She couldn't even begin to imagine the depth of the terror that must consume the soldiers who make the crossing of the Blind Mountains, and at the same time she felt a poignant admiration for their courage and their selflessness. These men knew that any step could be their last, and during this particular crossing, it could mean the death of many woman and children who traveled with them as well.

"What about the Kawasseas?" she asked, her throat dry like a whetstone as she wondered about the other lethal threat that loomed in the cursed woods.

"They're blind, too, but I haven't yet decided whether they're deadlier than the Skinwalkers or not," Robin mused. "One thing is for sure though, they can sense it when someone makes it into their territory and attempts to cross their swamp, and they don't like it."

"Do they sing to enchant their victims?" Maeve wondered, recalling the many different legends about how all mermaids were gifted with an enchanting voice that hypnotized all those unfortunate enough to hear them sing.

Robin shook his head. "No. They prefer to ensnare them with a sticky sort of filamentous weed that shoots out of their palms," he explained, pointing at the heel of his palm to show her where the gummy weed came out of the Kawasseas' hands. "When they've got you, it's over. You'll be dragged down under the water and drowned in the blink of an eye."

Maeve huffed. "Charming."

"They do sing though," Robin added. "But that's just their way of scaring the wits out of their victims first." Turning his head to look at her in the flickering firelight, a frown suddenly furrowed his brow. "You've never encountered mermaids before? I mean, since you were a sailor and all…"

Maeve smiled at the distant memory. "I have, once. She was one of Poseidon's sirens and was harpooned by treasure hunters. She sought revenge upon their souls and they eventually got what they deserved as punishment for their crime."

Studying her intently as she spoke, Robin's eyes narrowed in curiosity once more, as if something about her had been nagging him for a while. "How is it that you became a sailor?"

The smile on her lips dimmed at his question, nostalgia quickly claiming her heart. "That's a long story…" Her voice trailed off softly as she remembered the day everything changed. Meeting Sinbad for the first time on the Isle of Dawn and embarking on the Nomad with Master Dim-Dim seemed like a lifetime ago. She had committed every moment to memory since then, but speaking about it all brought along such painful longing that she had no desire to delve into much detail, so she went with a short version. "Circumstances led to one another and one day I found myself on a ship and part of a crew. And now I'm here."

Robin regarded her closely, like someone trying to decipher a complex clue. There was a dozen questions still shining in his raptor blue eyes, but he respectfully accepted her succinct answer, relinquishing his curiosity on her life as a sailor for the time being. Instead he opted for another inquiry. "Do you have any family left at all? From the North?"

"A brother."

The word left her mouth before she even knew she was speaking.

She froze like a shard of ice, the wind in her lungs leaving her abruptly as her heart skipped a sharp beat and then painfully raced up inside her chest, thumping against her ribcage like a flock of wild horses galloping at high speed. Her eyes went straight to the flames in complete shock, unable to make sense of what she had just revealed and utterly unable to face Robin lest he sensed her sudden distress.

What on earth was wrong with her? In the last decade of her life, never had she proclaimed out loud that she had a brother, not to a single living soul except for Master Dim-Dim. She had never even told Sinbad about him, despite all the occasions where she'd had the chance to tell him the truth. All those times where he had so cautiously opened the door to her past to take a peek inside, all those times where she'd only allowed him glimpses of it without ever being fully honest with him. Brushing the matter off. Offering vague answers. White lies. So many white lies...Sinbad had deserved to know the truth, to hear it from her mouth. And here she was giving it to another man without a second thought.

Regret swallowed her whole, like a mighty monster from the Wikken Hells sucking her right into the belly of the Earth, with sharp claws digging into her heart to bleed her dry.

Swallowing hard past the lump in her clamped throat, she realized Robin was still eyeing her intently, awaiting some form of further explanation on her part.

Yet she could not bring herself to face him, her gaze locked on the flames for salvation, her voice blank when she spoke. "He's still on the ship I sailed on."

Maeve half expected him to press on the issue and twist the knife into her wound with another question, but instead he simply remained quiet. If he sensed the black weight of guilt that was currently crushing her, he spoke no word of it. Instead he chose to offer her hopeful words of comfort. "I'm sure you'll get to see him again."

His voice was gruff and soothing in the golden darkness, but Maeve failed to return a grateful smile. The foul morass of regret inside her head was growing too fast, clawing at her sanity, but before it could take root like a nasty weed and properly choke what was left of her crumbling composure, she cleared her throat and swiftly changed the subject. "These Wizards you have here in Southampton," she began, lifting her chin up to instill some strenght and control back in her features. "Why don't they make the crossing? Surely with magic as powerful as theirs, trekking through these cursed woods would be a piece of cake. Why don't they provide protection?"

Without a word, Robin accepted her diversion as easily as if they'd just swatted a fly around their heads, granting her the space she desperately needed from their last subject. "We've discussed this issue at length many times in the past. It would certainly make the crossing of the Blind Mountains much safer to have a pair of wizards amongst our ranks. On the other hand, we can't leave the city unprotected, especially right now. If the Blood Raiders retaliate, Adam and George need to be here to organize the city's defenses." He paused then, his sharp blue eyes fixing her in the candlelight, his lips curving upward a little. "But we won't be completely magic-less. We have you."

"You're in for a disappointment," Maeve snickered at his comment, a small smile of derision stealing its way on her face. "I'm nowhere near as powerful as a duo of experienced and battle-hardened wizards."

"I think you're underestimating yourself," Robin observed, attempting to cheer her up once more.

"Trust me, I'm not." Maeve replied with a loaded sigh, the wings of a hawk flapping in her memories.

Robin's smile held a hint of sorrow then, as if her lack of confidence in herself saddened him greatly and he wished he could prove her wrong. But Maeve was in no mood to have her skills and her worth unecessarily praised at the moment. She already knew what she was worth, and Robin would come to learn it in time, too.

As they went back to staring at the flames wordlessly, silence cloaked them once more in their little bubble of firelight, and both of them realized how late into the night it truly was.

"I should leave," Robin heavily declared as he rose from his seat tiredly. "We both need a good night's sleep for tomorrow."

Pushing herself to her feet as well, Maeve nodded in agreement and followed him to the door, toying with her hands awkwardly, suddenly at a loss of what to say to conclude their long conversation and ease the note of tension that had lodged itself in there since her mindless slip-up about her brother, but Robin beat her to it.

"There's a bath and some towels in the other room if you wish to clean up," he pointed out, tilting his chin towards the room to the right.

"Thank you." She wished for something else to add, for some formalities or a light jest, but words completely failed her and remained stuck on her tongue.

Pulling the thick mahogany door open, Robin stepped out and turned to face her, meeting her gaze one last time with soft and warm blue eyes. "Good night."

"Good night."

And Maeve watched him disappear in the dark hall, a shadow retreating into the night, before she closed the door at last.