A/N: And here's the second chapter! Slightly longer...please enjoy! And lettuce pies go to: heather, LaPetiteMouse, Kiaga, and Laramie! Thanks for reviewing!
A Conversation
Hem's frantic footsteps slowed as he neared Saliman's Bardhouse – his home. His home...now that he was settled in, and since Zelika had – well, since that had happened – the thought no longer gave him the same feelings of wonderment and joy as they had when he had first fully realised that he now had a home – a proper, loving home – to call his own. The seemingly unconquerable dull, numb fog, streaked through with anguish, which covered his mind and actions, did not leave any room for feeling grateful, or loved, or comfortable. Hem did not even worry about being thrown out of it nowadays. He did not have the willpower to truly think about the material things in his life. He'd long since stopped going to the School. None of the teachers had been able to disturb the fog, and indeed none of them had tried with much enthusiasm, for they recognised that Hem was mostly dead in his mind. Even those students who had once teased him with such gusto finally gave up trying to irritate him, unnerved by the blank darkness in his once-youthful and naïve eyes. Unnatural, they called him. Brain-dead, spiritless, sleepwalker, Black Crow... After a while, it became apparent to everyone that the school was not doing him any good, and he was gently removed from lessons, much to the relief of most of the School.
The sun was mostly above the horizon now. The inhabitants of the Bardhouse would soon be up, and notice that he had gone...not that they would really worry, of course, with the possible exception of Saliman. Oddly enough, the thought did not perturb him in the least. In fact, it rather appealed to him – disappearing from the surface of the earth and from people's minds forever, too far away to do them any harm, too far away to be harmed. Despite the rapidly rising heat, his body rebelled at the unconscious implications, and he shivered. Passing under a baked, cracked sandstone arch, he quickly stepped through a pool of cool shadows, his sandals making a furtive, forlornly soft tap on the ever-enduring stone flooring of the courtyard, and made his way like an unfaithful servant to the back door of the house. The well-made mahogany door was unlocked, and swung open with a slight creak when he nudged it with a shoulder. Hem removed his sandals, and slipped sideways through the door – and ran straight into a somewhat broad, comfortingly warm chest smelling faintly of sweat and oranges.
Saliman's hair was loose, and he wore a simple, undyed cotton robe of the type used to dry off after bathing – evidently he had not been expecting to meet anyone around the house this early. The aroma suggested a trip to raid the kitchens to Hem's nose – a fact he registered only faintly, as if he were somehow detached from the proceedings, a feeling he had had almost constantly since the event which had changed his life forever. But the thing that Hem did notice, almost with a shock, were his eyes. Saliman's dark brown eyes, usually so serene and yet twinkling with a cheerful spirit that infected all around him, were overcast – almost like Hem's own. It was like looking at himself through another person's eyes. Had Hem been his normal self, he would have also remembered that he had not had much communication with Saliman over the past few weeks, preferring instead to spend every waking hour in the Healing Houses, where the patients did not mind his glazed expression and dull demeanour. In fact, the two had not had a meaningful conversation since Maerad had defeated Sharma more than a month ago. Perhaps Saliman had been like this for a while, and he had simply not been attentive enough and interested enough to notice it?
"I had not expected to see you here so early...what were you doing exactly, Hem?" Saliman's eyes narrowed, and his eyebrows seemed to lock into an almost crossing position. But before the unfortunate Minor Bard had time to emit a dull response, Saliman interrupted and said "But no matter. Its importance pales beneath what I must discuss with you. I have been meaning to ask you about your recent...detachment from society. Hem, I do understand what you're going through, and I just want you to know that, if you need to tell someone your thoughts, then just come to me. We have been through so much together, and I couldn't bear to lose you now. Zelika-"
"Shut up! Just go away and leave me alone! I don't want to say anything! I don't want to cause so much hurt to everyone! I don't want to live any longer! Just get away from me before you d-die too!"
Hem rushed out of the house, running madly through the awakening city. A few market traders stared at the young boy as he tripped over the wheels of a cart of flour being unpacked, but no-one else seemed to give him much thought. Absolutely perfect for a nothing like himself...as Hem ran, tripping over bricks and stones and making no note of direction, he left a trail of furiously hot, salty tears. Even when the pain had almost become too much to bear, spilling over into an abyss of numb, almost non-existent thoughts, he had never cried, never relinquished his hold on the fateful events which haunted him. But now, they fell inexorably and freely, peppering his path with an almost tangible grief.
A/N: OK, that's it! Please review...reviewers get lettuce jelly! I'll be on holiday from the 12th to the 20th, with very limited internet access, so I may not update for a while. I will try to, though. ~NSTAN