“Why the map?” Hedrek asks.
“She’s not from here. She’s not from anywhere I know of,” Davilla shrugs, “She didn’t seem to know anything about Harito or even Tassatung. I don’t know where the Goddess found her, but she’s clearly a long way from home. When I asked where she was from, she said Penfro. I have no idea where that is.”
Now Hedrek looks confused, “There used to be a town near Ibartica that was named Penfro, but it was destroyed some decades ago.” He shrugs, “It couldn’t possibly be the same place.”
“That was a magnificent idea,” Davilla congratulates Hedrek, “I don’t think I want to do it again soon since it’s drained my day almost completely, but if she doesn’t regain more speech soon, I will be asking for your help again. We will have a lot of work to do to prepare the next batch.”
“Don’t worry,” Vanya says, “I already brewed the datura tea. The wingè berries are almost done, and I’ve already decanted the distilled badu tree sap. All that’s left is the p’zae, the woad and the mixing.”
“I won’t know what to do about the woad until I see her back. I can check on that first thing in the morning.” As they are departing, Davilla stops suddenly, eyeing the bed, “When she’s better, maybe one of the acolytes can move in here with her. That would give her a bit of company.”
Vanya scurries off, trailed by Hedrek, while Davilla returns to her lab.
The large pile of trunks remains in the hallway. Davilla flags down a couple of young men passing by to help her wrangle the trunks into the storage area. Deciding that she’s had enough excitement for the day, Davilla decides it’s time to see about her dinner. The next day, Davilla yawns and stretches before hurrying off to the baths to prepare herself for the day. After she’s done with her morning routine, she is practically jogging to get to the meal hall to grab some breakfast. Grabbing some flat bread and sausage, she rolls them up and eats as she heads to her lab. Without waiting for Vanya to arrive, she grabs her supplies, dons her gear, and rushes to check on her patient.
“Good morning,” she says, “I just want to check your back to see how things are progressing.”
Working swiftly, she uncovers her test stripes. To her surprise, the strongest solutions do not seem to be much improved. In fact, to her eye, there seems to be more irritation. However, the third stripe is markedly improved and appears to be showing some actual tiny patches of skin. Vanya comes in with a tray of food.
“I picked up her breakfast from the kitchen. It’s breakfast cakes and crumbled up sausages all mushed together.”
To Vanya’s surprise, the burnt figure on the table speaks, “Smells good… not broth.”
Vanya chuckles, “No, it’s not broth. Well, they did soak it with some broth, but…”
Setting the tray down, Vanya looks and seems puzzled. “The one part in five seems to have done better than the stronger solutions. That’s not at all what I had expected. Now I see why you test things so thoroughly.”
“Things often have unexpected effects on people,” Davilla says, shifting into teaching mode.
After several minutes of expounding on the necessity of testing new concoctions and even testing old ones on new patients, the figure speaks again, “Please… food… so hungry.”
“Sorry,” Davilla apologizes, “I will go finish up the mixture for your next change of bandages, and Vanya can help you with your breakfast.”
Davilla returns to her lab, and Vanya drags up a chair and starts spooning the mush into the girl’s mouth.
As she’s feeding her, Vanya is babbling, “After lunch, the acolytes are going to take turns coming to read to you. Since Davilla said you know nothing about Tassatung, I thought that our history might be a good place to start. Davilla also asked that the library hang a map for you to study, but I thought I would tell you a bit about what Harito is like since Davilla says you don’t know the city.”
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Vanya launches into a description of the town, the market, and her favorite places in the city.
As the meal ends, the girl looks at her, “Want...talk...like before...paladin.” Vanya looks puzzled for a moment, “OH! You want to talk to one of the paladins like you did with Davilla.”
“Yesss,” she sighs.
“I think the wizard that did it for you went home, but I will see if one of the others here can manage it. If not, we will ask him to come back again.” Vanya giggles and whispers conspiratorially, “I wouldn’t mind seeing Hedrek again. He’s very handsome.” Her comment is rewarded with a snort.
Vanya starts packing up the tray to return it to the kitchen, but a request for more stops her in her tracks.
Sadly, she shakes her head, “No, not right now. Too much and you will be sick. Thinking quickly, Vanya says, “Can you blink once for yes and twice for no? Then you won’t have to try to speak. It sounds like it’s painful.”
When the girl blinks once, Vanya nods. “Good, I will make a deal with you. I will be back with more at mid-morning. I will also ensure that you receive an afternoon snack and another after dinner. We have to keep the portion sizes down for now, but once you get used to eating again, there will be more. Deal?”
Vanya is rewarded with a blink just as Davilla returns with the buckets.
The women apply the mixture and leave. When the girl wakes, there is an acolyte there with a large book, “They said to read you the history of Tassatung, but it’s pretty boring. It’s all old battles and dead people. Are you sure that’s what you want?”
The girl in the bed blinks once, and the acolyte begins reading. She finishes the first chapter, and as she does, another girl carrying a tray arrives, “Master Bozell sent me to take over for you.”
“Ugh,” the first girl says, “I was hoping to get out of scrubbing the floors.”
The new girl sets her tray down and says, “I’ve brought you a snack. I also managed to swipe some berry crumble that was supposed to be for lunch. I don’t think they will miss one serving, though.”
With a wink, the new acolyte feeds her and then starts reading. After a while, the steady rotation and drone of voices become soothing, and Emlyn dozes off.
Days drift into a solid routine for a bit until Hedrek arrives, “Well, hello there!” he greets her, “You are certainly looking a lot better than the last time I saw you. I’ve brought someone to speak with you. His name is Benger. This will work like it did last time. You will both be in the same dream, and you can talk.”
Grinning at the girl in the bed, Hedrek wiggles his fingers a bit. The infirmary bed moves itself into the perfect spot.
Hedrek gestures at the bed, “Benger, if you would be so kind. Most find doing this while lying down to be more comfortable, and I need to be able to touch both of you.”
Turning to the girl in the bed, “You, dear girl, just need to close your eyes.”
Hedrek explains the process to Benger and then casts his spell. Emlyn finds herself on the same sunny beach, but this time, she’s closer to some palm trees. She looks around expectantly and sees a young man approaching in full armor. She takes off at a trot to meet him, wearing her customary attire, the leather harness that displays her tattoo and thus her status to full advantage. A strip of leather encircles her chest, and thongs attach it around her neck. Another strip runs between her legs and is tied to a thin belt that sits at her waist.
Benger stands there, watching Emlyn, with the kind of posture that suggests either military discipline or a spine carved from principle. Barely out of boyhood but already draped in duty, he wears his brigantine armor like a second skin, steel-studded leather panels polished to a gleam, marked at the shoulders with the sigil of his Order. His hair is a tousled crown of cornsilk, windblown from the breeze off the ocean. Eyes the clear blue of a cloudless day hold a persistent shine, part zeal, part curiosity, and just enough righteous mischief to make Ember sigh. Emlyn eyes him but relaxes when she catches the sigils on his pauldrons and maintains her pace, despite the sand.
Benger, young enough to be foolish, mistakes her for a mirage, a spell gone awry. Benger watches her jogging toward him, like a living tapestry, each step a subtle display of inked heritage and careful pride. Starting at the soles of her feet and covering her to her shoulders, and down both arms to cover her hands, looping whorls spiral over her body, curling around symbols of lineage, service, and triumph. Her skin, otherwise fair, is an intricate canvas of looping, swirling indigo tattooing, each design drawn with delicate precision and carefully shaded in the same monochromatic indigo.
The size of it alone marks her status. Her House crest is woven into the loops and swirls on one thigh, if Benger knew how to read them. Still young, perhaps not long past her coming-of-age rite, she already carries the confidence of someone whose marks speak volumes. Her hair is a riot of copper waves, bound in a loose braid that shimmers like fire in motion, framing a face of sharp cheekbones and green eyes that miss nothing. She is shapely and firm, her figure athletic from the many hours she spends in the training yard.
Benger ogles her, shakes his head, and mutters, “What the hells…”
Then, grinning to himself, thinking it’s just a dream and that the mage’s spell has gone awry, he decides to play along. She’s certainly much shapelier than anything he’s managed to dream up by himself, and the leather harness doesn’t leave a lot of room for doubt about her physical qualities. Undoing a couple of the buckles, he shucks off his brigandine armor and the attendant underpadding, leaving only a linen shirt. He drops them in the sand and quickly starts unbuckling the leg pieces, and drops them in the sand too, leaving just some linen trousers.
She watches from a distance as he sheds his armor and his weapons. He kicks his shoes off and, without any warning, makes a leap that carries him to Emlyn. As she turns to flee, his arm snakes around her waist, and he lifts her bodily as his other hand tries to grab her breast.
“My dreams are never this good… I’ll have to ask the mage where he met you,” he whispers into her hair. To his surprise, her elbow buries itself in his solar plexus. She spins quickly and drives a knee into his groin and punches him in the throat.
As he’s curled up on the beach, he watches as she runs to his discarded items and draws his sword. She gives it a few practice swings to test it and prowls toward him, as he lays gasping, trying to recover.
-
The Food Strike: Emlyn finally gets some real mush! No more broth. She was so hungry she was trying to spear dream-fish.
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The Geography Lesson: Davilla is baffled because Emlyn says she’s from "Penfro," a place that supposedly hasn't existed for decades.
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The Woad Works: The alchemy is actually working! One part in five of the woad solution is the "sweet spot" for skin regeneration.
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Benger’s Big Mistake: The young Paladin, Benger, thinks he’s in a spicy dream and tries to get "friendly". Emlyn responds with a solar plexus elbow, a knee to the groin, and a throat punch. She then steals his sword just to make a point.
Spare Change Count:
12 Copper Pellets: Dropped by the acolytes who are now taking shifts reading "boring" history books to the patient.
5 Silver Shavings: From Hedrek, for the "extra effort" of moving the infirmary bed with his mind again.
1 Bruised Ego: Belongs to Benger. It’s a bit dented and smells like sea salt and regret.
Other Contents:
A Small Bowl of Berry Crumble: Swiped by a kind acolyte for Emlyn’s afternoon snack.
A Map of Tassatung: Slightly crumpled where Emlyn stared at it trying to find a home that isn't there.
A Lock of Cornsilk Hair: Curled and slightly singed (metaphorically) from Benger’s disastrous "first contact".
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