Dani Laurelson, with her shopping basket in hand, spied the offering bowl on the left side of her doorway before she'd even made it all the way up the street. Her heart beat faster in her chest, and felt as though it had been set on fire. With her lips pursed and her free hand pressed firmly upon the bread, eggs, leeks, and tomatoes she'd just purchased moments ago, she marched up to her door and kicked at the bowl. An agonized shriek escaped her mouth before she even felt the pain shoot through her foot.
The bowl, made of heavy stone and filled with spiced wine and rose petals, didn't move.
Dani realized, too late, that she'd tried to kick over a solid stone mortar the size of a serving bowl.
Suddenly, a huge animal made of grey smoke came charging down the street, thoroughly terrifying the few passers-by that were to be seen on Dani's quiet side street at that hour of the morning. Dani screamed again, this time with purpose, certain that the creature would leap upon her and tear her apart. Instead, about two bounds away from her, the creature- an identifiable wolf- slowed down and began sniffing around her. It padded gently up the two steps that lay in front of Dani's door and began gently pushing at the top of her reddening foot with its nose, which felt as cool, damp, and solid as any canine's nose should have been. Just as Dani began to realize that the thing meant her no harm, and got the strange, overwhelming urge to reach down and pat it, she looked up to see a very familiar Purple Dragon. Although she knew he'd been suspended, it was still strange to see him outside of his well kept steel armor, or at least his dress uniform.
"I apologize," Cimaretto panted, his own trot coming to a breathless halt at about the same distance that his spectral companion's had. He bent at the waist just slightly and reached out his hand, and the smoky grey wolf turned away from its inspection of Dani to return to him. Once it arrived at his side, the smoke that made it dissipated as though it had never existed. "That's Vici; I sent him ahead of me. I just wouldn't have been fast enough, if you'd broken it. Your foot, I mean- that mortar's not going anywhere; now I regret using it. Are you alright?"
Dani pulled in a long breath, partially due to the residual pain and partially due to the emotions hurling themselves against her better sense. After what felt like the longest moment in eternity, her emotions won, and silent tears pushed their way out of her eyes.
"I'm not alright at all," she finally managed, slowly sinking down to her doorstep.
"I do apologize," Cimaretto replied, turning away to start toward a temple. "I'll get a healer and-"
"No," Dani said firmly. Cimaretto halted at once, as though he'd been given an order, and turned around. "I can bandage myself, but... I could use a hand, I... I don't think I'll make it, with the basket."
"I've got it," the officer said quietly, returning to balance the basket on his right forearm. He offered his left arm to Dani. "And you too, if you need."
Dani wordlessly reached up and took hold of the man's deep olive, hairy right arm. Although she was self-conscious about putting all her weight on him, he squatted down to allow her to rise with him, and she found that the pressure didn't seem to bother him at all.
"Thank you," she said once she'd gotten to her feet. "It hurts, probably is swelling, but I can feel and move all of the toes. So, nothing's broken. Bring the basket with you, please- and that mortar, if you can manage it."
"Right away, my lady," Cimaretto replied, ducking down to pick the mortar up. The solid piece of carved and smoothed stone was easily picked up and managed, even with the basket still balancing on the other forearm. The wine and roses gave off a pleasing smell as they rocked and sloshed, and Dani came to herself scant moments before Cimaretto could realize that she was watching him. She opened her door and limped slowly inside, waiting for him to enter before she closed and locked it behind them.
"Put the basket on top of the water barrel and the mortar on the mantel- they're both straight back."
"The hearth fire's out," Cimaretto noted as he moved to do as he had been told. "I can light it while I'm over here. Morning's got a chill to it."
"Hard to believe the ice broke weeks ago, isn't it?" Dani smiled painfully, limping her way to the sitting room, which was to the left of the entryway. "I keep the flint over the fire, but the kindling on the opposite side- it's... my mother used to do that. As though the kindling would somehow light itself, if they were kept too near each other. Silly, isn't it?"
"Customs are customs," Cimaretto replied. He found the flint easily, and hunted around the other side of the hearth until he spied a round metal canister with rough hewn rods of kindling wood inside. "My mother would bless a piece of wood, and then have my brothers and I carve the dishes and forks that we would use for as long as possible. If they broke, or were for whatever reason unable to be used any longer, we would hold a short ceremony and burn them. Still do it today."
Dani listened to the scrape of the stones and sighed deeply. "A foreign manner, but likely intended to cultivate respect for crafting, or for the time it takes- possibly even for the wood itself. We- Michele and I- studied similar customs in preparation for her basic training in the Hermit's Wood."
"She told me about Hermit's Wood," Cimaretto smiled as he urged the small fire to grow by poking at the cold log remnants around it. "Said there was some sort of wind dance down there that was similar enough to some of my rituals as to make her wonder. She mentioned your studies as well- said some of them were done personally."
"Yes," Dani frowned. "Unlike her, I wasn't blindly sent to some barbarian outpost, but... it seems her time there was more useful than either of us could have known at the time. Please look near my sewing basket, next to the rocking chair, and you'll find just behind it some cloth that will do for binding. That and a quarter piece of kindling will do."
"Straight away, my lady," Cimaretto said.
Dani listened again as a piece of kindling wood was broken. There was a gentle scraping of wood on stone- likely the rocking chair being eased aside to allow the man to reach beyond it- and the rustling of some soft goods.
"Look for a strip that's about as long as your forearm," Dani instructed. "That'll give me enough slack to knot it on top."
Cimaretto appeared moments later with the wood and the exact piece of cloth that Dani had in mind. Without saying anything, he handed the materials off, then turned around and sat on the floor.
"What are you-?"
"So that you can rest it however you need on my shoulder, and reach it better," Cimaretto explained. "My eldest brother did this for me when my ankle was bitten up and twisted after a fight. The pain was spectacular- I couldn't think straight. I didn't even realize I needed him, until he was there."
Dani pressed her lips between her teeth for a moment, but decided to take the help. Resting the back of her heel on the man's solid, wide shoulder, she placed the piece of wood under her flat foot and bound it there with the cloth.
"Well, it's certainly swelling," she noted grimly. "And it's certainly painful. It'll be interesting to walk for the next two or three days."
"There's a cane leaning in the corner of the room," Cimaretto noted as Dani took her foot off his shoulder and tried putting it down on the ground. "That should help keep the pressure off."
"That's my late husband's cane," Dani said, sitting back in the chair and feeling the feather cushions as if for the first time. "He's been gone for years, but I could never bring myself to throw the old thing away."
"He must have gently turned your eyes and heart away from it, knowing this day would come," Cimaretto said, getting to his feet and heading for the corner.
"Is that what happens to the dead?" Dani asked, only half expecting an answer. "They simply become the wardens of the living?"
Cimaretto brought the beautifully carved, iron reinforced cane back and leaned it on the side of Dani's chair, then sat down on the ground facing her. "At first, they merely watch. They can't do anything on their own; it's too difficult, even for warriors or mages who were powerful while alive. Through rememberances, no matter how brief, and offerings, no matter how meager, they gain strength. They can, over generations of even the briefest prayers and poorest gifts, become great defenders of the household, and sometimes even of an entire clan or village."
"How... comforting... such a belief must be," Dani breathed, thinking of all the mornings she'd kicked every vessel left near her door over, spilling the contents onto the ground and into the street. "The priests of Lathander told me Michele was with him, of course, and I believed them, of course, but... the idea that she may be... closer... would be nice."
"Wherever she is, she isn't alone," Cimaretto comforted, keeping his voice quiet and his body still. "Her very last thoughts sounded as though she were recognizing and speaking to someone close."
Dani's chest tightened again, but not with anger or bitterness. She closed her eyes and felt them sting for a few moments, and let the tears fall again, just as quiet as they had been before.
"I apologize," Cimaretto whispered, sliding himself backward in preparation to rise. "I can go-"
"Sit down," Dani whispered, the feather light sound as much a command as if it had been hollered. "In a chair, like a human being. I don't know how northerners raise their children, but here in the heartlands, children do not depart their parents' company without being duly dismissed."
No comments:
Post a Comment