Chapter 09 - Confrontation

Dir Ketten had returned, and tossed a handful of what looked like grasses into the pot along with a little bit of water. He took the pot and shook it to stir it before setting it back in the fire. He looked up at Matner wordlessly before going back to the pelt he was scraping with a knife. Matner decided not to ask what kind of animal or how the nomad had acquired it.

Ahriender woke next. "Dir Ketten, you're back!" he said happily. Sharnellynn woke next, more slowly than normal. She groaned in the process of sitting up, clutching blanket around here where clothes were not doing their job.

Matner rolled over to his bags, pulling a shirt out. It was a beige colored cotton, already looking much more worn than when he had left. "Here," he said, tossing it to her. It landed a little short and Ahriender grabbed it for her. Matner turned away from her and started straightening his bag more. He expected her to not say thank you, and so he was not surprised when she did not.

Everyone gathered around the fire for the food Dir Ketten scooped out into the few dishes he owned. Matner got handed a mug of meat bites. They were browned and there were grainy looking spices seared into the pieces along with the longer bits of grassy stuff. The water had turned into some kind of thin brown sauce. He could not recognize the spices, but just then he could not recall a more tasty dish. "Thank you so much," he thought to say. Dir Ketten only nodded.

After breakfast, Ahriender helped Matner wash up the dishes while Dir Ketten attended to Sharnellynn's wounds. Ahriender kept glancing worriedly over as the Nomad wrapped bandaging around her midsection. Matner found himself watching out of the corner of one eye, wanting to know how it was done more than anything. Sharnellynn tried to say a couple of things to Dir Ketten, but he did not seem to be giving her any kind of response. Once he was finished bandaging and examining her wounds, she laid down again, obviously exhausted again already.

"We will stay here one day," Dir Ketten announced, standing up and moving back towards the fire. "The two of you will take this time to train. You will train Ahriender," he pointed a finger at Matner, "and I will train you."

"Me?" Ahriender said with a startled surprise. "But I don't have a sword!"

"There are more weapons than just swords, young man," Dir Ketten said sternly, suddenly reminding Matner of the instructors at the Academy.

Dir Ketten moved to a nearby tree, pulling one of his two swords out. With a few well-placed strikes, he cut down a branch almost as thick as Ahriender's wrist. He then held it up next to Ahriender, surveying it for a moment before leaning it to one side and whacking off the other end. He followed that by cutting off the smaller branches coming out of the remaining piece. By the time he was done, the spark of recognition had grown in Ahriender's eyes.

"It's just like a quarterstaff!" he exclaimed as Dir Ketten tossed the rough staff at the boy's feet.

"Dir Ketten," Sharnellynn called weakly. Matner could see she was struggling to get up again.

Dir Ketten grunted and went over to her and the two had a hushed conversation. Meanwhile, Ahriender was looking over his quarterstaff as if it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. He took a few practice swings with it, and Matner had to step back to avoid getting hit when it nearly got away from the boy. Without even thinking about it, he found himself stepping forward and showing Ahriender how to hold the staff correctly, remembering some of the initial instruction he'd received on staves at the academy. While he hadn't practiced with one in some time, much of it came back easily to his memory and Ahriender was easy to teach. By the time Dir Ketten returned he had Ahriender in a defensive stance, showing him the first basic blocking move.

Matner gave him some quick instruction on stances, and gave him a couple of basic moves to practice. He explained that the moves would also help Ahriender develop the right grip on the staff throughout the kinds of moves he would need. Too tight a grip and the moves became awkward, too loose and the staff got dropped.

After about an hour of that Dir Ketten took Matner for sword training. It was fast-paced and hard. After about two hours Dir Ketten told him to rest while showing Ahriender more. There was still time before lunch.

He and Ahriender spent the time until lunch going over basic strikes and parries. The boy was a quick learner, and it seemed as if his body adopted the movements readily. Matner remembered having to practice for days before any of the moves had come reflexively. In contrast it took Ahriender four or five times trying something before he could use a learned parry almost as a reflex.

Matner practiced some of the sword things Dir Ketten was teaching as part of the staff training. He would take an attack of his and show Ahriender how to defend against it. He considered different combinations of attacks and defenses, and how some moves might be useful in some situations but detrimental in others. He found himself analyzing the interplay of attack and defense, and how he could use an attack to make a defender react a certain way. It was fascinating, and he thought about it silently while eating lunch.

After lunch, Dir Ketten went over more, this time in basic hand-to-hand moves. The nomad pointed out that there were certain points on the body that you could achieve more by hitting with a direct, pointed strike instead of a broad punch. He showed them both how to hit something with just their fingers, cautioning them not to try to use it on another person until they were fully familiar with what points would accomplish the desired result. Instead, he rolled up a couple of strips of cloth around bunches of grasses and leaves to form targets for them to practice on. He took some berries and made dark, reddish stains in several spots on the targets, telling them to practice hitting each spot precisely. He had them move the targets every so often, in order to change the height that they needed to attack. It turned out to be more difficult than he would have expected, although after several hours of practice, his hands were sore but he felt like his accuracy had increased considerably.

While they practiced, Dir Ketten kept watch from a spot by the fire. Occasionally he would come over to change where the targets were located, but most of the time he seemed to be watching them out of the corner of his eye while he wrote in his book. He checked on Sharnellynn whenever she woke, but she spent most of the time just sleeping. As the sun started to drift lower in the sky, lengthening the shadows around them, Dir Ketten put away his book and began cooking dinner. Despite the recent food, the smell of it still made Matner's stomach rumble.

It was some sort of seasoned stew, with a thick sauce. Matner realized that the sauce itself was thick from cooked, mashed up potatoes. Bits of green and brown spices mingled with small slices of carrots and meat. Matner was sure he wasn't the only one who savored it as he ate. He was reminded of Ennick, and wondered if the cook had known that Dir Ketten could handle himself so well with a single pot to work with. He doubted it.

Sharnellynn remained silent through the meal and never looked at Matner once. He, in turn, didn't bother to look at her more than out of the corner of his eye. He really didn't have anything he wanted to say to the elf anyway. When she began singing to Ahriender after dinner, it almost startled him after so much silence. Dir Ketten leaned back, seeming to relax and enjoy the music, while Matner busied himself with cleaning up the dishes. Her voice was beautiful, but the song seemed sad.

Dir Ketten did a little more writing in his little book before the light grew too dark. Matner considered getting his book to read, but in his opinion it was already too dark to make any progress. Another time, he told himself not for the first time. He instead used the time to clean his armor as best he could. It was starting to look a little neglected, something his teachers would never have stood for.

He reflected back over the past days since being separated from the caravan. It had been a mad rush of too-busy days. His poor, abused body was healing well, and he was glad for that. He wondered how long it would be before their next encounter. He was not looking forward to it.

As crickets joined the soft popping and cracking of the fire, he thought about the land around him. He tried to envision from the maps he had seen where he might be, but he was lost. At this point he was so turned around he did not even know which direction home was. He laid back to look up at the stars. There had been a course on knowing which stars pointed where. He found one group that told him which way north was. But there was no group of stars that pointed towards home, and no group of stars that said where to find a land that welcomed freed elves.

He rolled onto his side, using an arm as a pillow, and pulled the one blanket he had left for himself over him. He stared at the fire for a little while, watching the occasional sparks drift lazily upwards. It did not take him long to fall asleep.

The midpoint of the night came all too soon and Dir Ketten seemed to be asleep only moments after Matner rolled, bleary-eyed, out of his bedroll. He found himself wishing he had coffee, and remembered the steaming cup that had started his conversation with Old Fredrickson. He went a short distance from the camp to relieve himself before taking a walk around it to satisfy himself that all was well. Sharnellynn and Ahriender were both sleeping still, although the elven woman seemed to toss in her sleep a bit uneasily.

He added some wood to the fire and sat back against a tree, closing his eyes and listening to the sounds of the woods around them. It took a while to hear beyond the hum of the crickets, but he found he could hear the wind rustling the nearby branches and leaves, along with the occasional small animal or bird moving within them. It was all he could do to not let it lull him back to sleep, and he ended up getting up and moving about again every so often to keep himself awake.

Just before dawn, he noticed Sharnellynn was awake. Her eyes never met his,however, so he kept his distance, pretending not to notice. Instead, he began busying himself with cutting up some of the vegetables to start cooking for breakfast. He got some water boiling in Dir Ketten's pot and put the potatoes and carrots in so they would cook. As an afterthought, he cut up one of the apples too, and added it to the mix. Once the vegetables were a little soft around the edges, he added a small amount of the meat as well, so it would heat up. By the time everyone was awake, he had something resembling a breakfast, and he drained off the water and portioned out the food into what cups and bowls they had. Nobody spoke a word while they ate, although Ahriender did thank Matner when he took the servings for himself and his mother.

Once breakfast was done, Dir Ketten checked Sharnellynn's bandages and declared that they would travel again that day. They gathered up their belongings and cleared the camp site, until it was difficult to tell that anyone had camped there recently in Matner's opinion. Dir Ketten still frowned at where the campfire had been doused, spread out, and covered over, obvioiusly unhappy with the result. He said nothing, however, and soon they were on their horses and moving again.

Sharnellynn looked a little bit silly in Matner's shirt with her equally torn pants, but she definitely needed it. He could tell she was glad to have the shirt, but of course she said nothing.

The sun shone on them as they rode, and Ahriender seemed outright cheery. Just before lunch he pointed out a deer at a little distance. It watched them warily, but did not run away. She was a majestic little doe. They had nothing to even consider hunting it with. Dir Ketten closed his eyes for a moment. Matner suspected he was praying. He could not help but wonder what specifically, although he knew better than to ask.

By late afternoon they came to a road. It had not been maintained recently, so some parts of it were paved in stones and some parts of it were just earth packed to varying degrees. They were in an area where farms were thinning out considerably, and the road led off away from civilization.

"This is the road we need," Dir Ketten informed them.

"Do we dare follow a road?" Sharnellynn asked.

"I think we should," Ahriender answered. "I think we need to find other travelers. Besides, if the others are alright they should be on this same road, right?"

"I think we should be cautious of other travellers," Matner said. "However, we'll be able to travel faster on the road. We can veer off into more concealed areas at night to make camp." He found himself looking at Dir Ketten, who nodded.

"Very well," Sharnellynn replied. She looked unhappy by it, but still moved her horse onto the road with them. Matner suspected that she was still feeling too unwell to argue.

They made far better pace along the road, and Matner suspected they traveled twice the distance in one day than they had been on the previous ones through farmland and forests. They did not see anyone else on the road, however, until the sun was starting to set on the horizon. Then Matner's heart skipped a beat as he saw caravan wagons sitting in a half-circle at one side of the road, obviously camped for the night.

His heart sank again, however, when they got close enough to see that it wasn't Old Fredrickson's caravan. This one had only two wagons and a small handful of people who bustled about tending to food cooking on the fire and setting up tents.

"A caravan!" Ahriender exclaimed, urging his horse faster. "Maybe they can tell us what happened to Old Fredrickson!"

Dir Ketten put his hand up, stopping them from going further. As it was, some of the people in the caravan had already spotted the four of them, and one man seemed to be coming out to the road, possibly to greet them. There was still enough distance that the man would not be able to identify them yet, but Sharnellynn and Ahriender no longer had their cloaks to hide beneath.

"Greetings," the man said, raising a hand. "You've picked an interesting road to travel in such a small group."

"There were more of us to start with, but we were set upon by bandits. I'm afraid we've been separated from the rest of our group," Matner explained.

"You've run into them too? I wish I could say I was surprised." The man gave the elves a suspicious look.

"I am Matner Syrus Tibrum the third," Matner said, "I was traveling with some of my household to Eihrwayh when the bandits found us. There were only a few valuables I was able to keep from them. This is Dir Ketten, the household body guard." He did not introduce the elves, knowing that slaves would not be introduced.

He presented it all as he thought his father might. He hoped the man would let the story explain everything that looked out of place. He also worried that if this group had seen Old Fredrickson that he'd be caught in the lie, but the lie still seemed a better story than the truth. It was all he had time for.

"I'm Tannor, and this is what's left of my own group. We weren't headed quite that far, but some of the way at least. Travel with us while you can. Safer for all of us that way."

"It would be much safer to travel together," Matner replied, nodding.

"It's settled then!" Tannor replied, clapping his hands together. "Come, then. Your boy can tend to your horse while I introduce you to the others."

Matner hopped out of the saddle and turned back towards Sharnellynn and Ahriender. He feared the worst, but somehow they were both acting exactly as they were supposed to. They both hurriedly dismounted when Matner did, and Ahriender came forward and took the reins from Matner, never once looking up to make eye contact. Matner suddenly wished he could say something to reassure the boy that he was just playing a part. Instead, he turned back towards Tannor, putting on a smile and walking towards him. Dir Ketten got off his horse and handed the reins to Ahriender as well, and followed just a step behind Matner. Matner desperately hoped the man wouldn't take offense to being referred to as his bodyguard.

"So," Tannor said as they walked back to the caravan's camp. "Does your wench cook or is she just along to warm your bed?"

"What would make you think I'd have her in my bed," Matner asked, trying to mimick one of his father's best icy tones.

"Well, the boy..."

"The boy was my cousin's mistake, not my own," Matner interrupted him sharply. "And is one of the reasons I am going to Eihrwayh. I've a colleague there who's willing to take them both off my hands for a reasonable price. Then I'll be done having to deal with that little...indescretion." Matner sighed, as if the whole thing exhausted him.

"Ahh," Tannor nodded, seeming to buy into the tale, to Matner's relief.

"Forgive me, it's a sore topic," he said, changing his tone to an apologetic one. "She can cook, although I've certainly eaten better."

"Well we lost our cook in the attack. Took a crossbow bolt in the gut and didn't make it through the following day. Not many of us are really much for cooking, see, so I thought maybe..."

"Of course," Matner nodded, turning back and looking at Shrnellynn directly. She raised her eyes to look at him and a chill went down his spine from the loathing he saw in them.

"You'll assist with the cooking," he told her, trying to adopt another of his father's attitudes in addressing her.

"Yes, sir," she replied, barely more than a whisper. Anyone that had heard her say it would have assumed she was as compliant as the words suggested. Her eyes dropped again and Matner quickly turned back to look at Tannor again.

At least she's playing along, he thought to himself. But how long will it last, I wonder?

Ahriender tended to the horses and Sharnellynn went and looked over their food supplies. Matner worried that she might steal it and vanish. It would be his fault, of course. There had not been a chance to hide and avoid this, he told himself.

Matner was introduced around. There were eight of them total. One man had a sword, the two women in their group both had crossbows slung over their backs. The swordman was the last guard remaining.

"So, ye any good wi' that sword?" the swordman--who's name was Tark--asked.

"I've had some training. It was given to me by my father, who was a knight like his father."

"Any bit'll 'elp," Tark said. "There's five o' us armed now, so that can mean five watches insteada the three we've been doin', if'n ye agree an' yer man can stand watch."

"He can probably stand watch best of all of us," Matner said right away, coming to the nomad's defense. "And we'll help however we can, just don't expect much conversation from him."

"Eh? Why's that?" Tark asked, raising an eyebrow.

"He doesn't speak," Matner replied.

"Well why's that then?" Tannor asked.

"You know, he never really told me," Matner said with a shrug. "So, where's a good spot for me to lay down my bedroll?"

Tannor pointed out a spot near one of the wagons, and Matner tossed his bag down next to it and unrolled his bedroll. He kept reminding himself not to look to see what Sharnellyn and Ahriender were doing, and went to sit down with the others by the fire instead.

He made a point of keeping the conversation on them more than on himself, to keep from being caught up in any of the lies he'd already told them. He found out that Tannor was the one who owned the two wagons, although there had been a third they'd had to abandon after the attack. Tannor sold bottles of an herbal concoction that was supposed to remedy a number of ails, from constipation to headaches. Another of the men, Victor, was both a healer of sorts, who could stitch and bandage wounds and also mentioned that he specialized in pulling out rotted teeth.

There was a third woman, Clarabelle, who was Victor's wife and acted as a nurse when he was helping someone. One of the two women with a crossbow, Allina, was the wife to one of the men who'd died and the crossbow she used had been his. The other woman, Nicollete was more of a gypsy and could read people's palms or find their future in her cards.

The other two were men. Ladin was a leatherworker who had a long mark on his face that looked as if he'd been burned there. Revik was more of a handyman, and repaired the wagons as they needed it and fixed odds and ends as they wanted repair. By the time the meal was ready, he knew enough about most of them that he was able to relax a little.

He stayed away from the gypsy woman. He did not want to take the chance that she might be more likely than the rest to see that he was lying. His faith in people that might foretell the future was also low. She would probably be just as vague as the oracle man they had gone to see. That man had said Matner would help some and fail others. He did not see yet how he had managed to be of much help to anyone. Those were the things he thought before going to sleep.

Dir Ketten woke Matner for his watch. Earlier it had been decided that since Matner was already accustomed to the mute nomad it made sense that they have back-to-back watches.

"Am I doing the right thing?" Matner asked quietly.

"The story was close enough to truth to be easy to stick with, which is good. It was quick thinking and good. If they can play their parts it should work for now."

"They sure aren't happy about it. I don't blame them for that, but they only have me to be angry about for everything that happens. Sharnellynn's never going to like me, is she?"

"She was never going to. It is not her way. But it is a role should would be playing still whenever around others, had we still been with the Dwarf and his wagons."

"We do what we must," Ketten added with a shrug. "Now I must get some sleep." He moved off towards his bedroll without another word.

Matner pulled his boots on and got out of his bedroll, sparing a glance over at Sharnellynn. She and Ahriender were sleeping in the extra blankets, on the ground not far from the horses. While everyone else's bedrolls were arranged near the safety and warmth of the fire, the elves were off to one side, segregated from the main group. Matner was just glad that the nights were only getting cooler, but not cold yet. Still, he felt a pang of guilt when he saw the edge of his shirt peeking out from under the blanket. He wished there was some way to get them both some proper clothes without seeming out of the character he'd adopted with the others.

He spent most of his watch trying to think about ways to make things a little better for them, but didn't come up with much. Since he hadn't any money, it wasn't as if he could really purchase anything for them, and it would seem out of place to ask one of the women in the caravan if she could borrow something of theirs. He worried how this would affect Ahriender. He was beginning to like the boy, and didn't want this experience to corrupt him against Humans any further than the farmers might have already.

Things seemed to go smoothly enough until the following evening, when Tannor approached Matner with a sideways smile that made his stomach turn with uneasiness. A quick glance around and he realized that Tark and Ladin were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Sharnellynn. Ahriender was alone, brushing down one of the horses. Matner rose to his feet as Tannor arrived in front of him, suspicion building. He glanced over at Dir Ketten, who frowned and closed his journal.

"I been thinkin' 'bout our arrangement," Tannor said, a sly tone to his voice. "Yer gitten the best o' the deal. Safety in numbers, eatin' our food, sharin' our fire... an' what're we gitten in exchange my men been askin'?"

"We've added our food supply to your own, and have been helping out where we can," Matner replied warily.

"We ain't really been needin' much help, now 'ave we?"

"It is highly possible you haven't been attacked because of our added presence. Had you thought of that?" Matner noticed Dir Ketten rising to his feet as well.

"Some 'o my men don't think so. Ye said ye'd help out where ye could, an so we're just gonna borrow yer wench fer a bit. She can pay yer way. T'ain't like she weren't broke in already, what with that half-breed 'o hers an all."

Matner's fist was in Tannor's face before he even realized what he was doing. Then Matner was off and running in the direction he'd thought he'd last seen Tark headed.

"Get the boy and the horses!" he yelled back at Dir Ketten.

He didn't turn to see the Nomad's reply, as he thought he could hear voices ahead of him. He turned a bit to head towards them, hearing Sharnellynn's pleading voice. Tark and Ladin were laughing and taunting her as she begged for them to let her go. Matner's sword was out of it's scabbard before he reached the clearing.

Tark held her from behind, with her arms partially pinned behind her back. The shirt she wore had been torn halfway, mostly exposing her chest. He saw her squirm and try to get away from Ladin while he clumsily fumbled with one of her breasts through the open fabric. He took a step backwards and hit her hard across the face with the back of one hand. When she raised her head again, blood trickled out from her nose.

"Ladin! Look out!" Tark's warning was too late, as Matner buried the blade of his sword deep into the man's side, only vaguely aware of the scream Ladin made before he pulled the sword back out. Ladin fell backwards to the ground and Matner turned to find Tark now had a knife at Sharnellynn's throat.

"I knew there were somethin' about ye' I didn't trust," Tark said.

"Let her go," Matner ordered. "That's your only warning."

"Or what?" Tark challenged, "you'll run me through? I'd say there's somethin' in yer way."

Matner adjusted the grip on his sword, spacing his hand apart so he could use the strength of both arms for speed. He watched Tark's eyes. Tark's eyes were watching him, not how he was holding the sword. Good, he told himself, meeting the man's gaze angrily.

"Five," Matner counted. Tark looked somewhere between confused and amused.

"Four." Matner saw Tark deepen his breathing a little. Tark would be ready for anything on one, but relaxed for a moment readying himself.

"Three," Matner said, striking between Tark's breaths. He slashed the back of Tark's wrist, cutting partway into the joint and nearly severing the hand. The impact of the blow pulled the hand away from Sharnellynn, and the knife flew away following the sword.

Matner stepped to the side, bringing the sword around. He brought it down on Tark's other shoulder, the one more exposed, and crushed the stunned man's collarbone. He spared a hand to yank Tark away from Sharnellynn and push him to the ground.

Tark stayed down, screaming in pain as he clutched his one dangling hand with his other, and pushing with his legs to try and further the distance between himself and Matner. Matner was angry enough that it took all of his will to stop from just killing the man outright. Instead, he turned back towards Sharnellynn. Instead of her usual glare, she looked frightened, clutching what was left of the shirt around her with one hand. He didn't take time to think about it, but grabbed her other hand and pulled her along behind him as he headed back towards the camp.

"Let's go," he told her. She didn't reply, but didn't resist either.

The scene he found back at the camp suggested he'd missed Dir Ketten in action again. One of the women appeared to be unconscious, or at least she didn't appear wounded but was laying on the ground. It looked like Tannor might be dead. The other woman's crossbow was smashed on the ground and she looked a bit stunned. Victor appeared to be nursing a black eye and was sitting on the ground, off to one side, while his wife worried over him. Revik was in a heap on the ground as well, and Matner couldn't be sure if he was alive or not. Dir Ketten looked angry, and one arm had a large, growing bloodstain on it. However, he had the horses saddled up and the gear tied on them. Matner noticed he had reclaimed their food supplies as well. Ahriender was already on his horse, his eyes wide and frightened. Matner all but hauled Sharnellynn up onto her horse before climbing up onto his own. In a matter of moments they were galloping down the road, leaving the caravan behind them. It took several miles before Matner's anger finally began to dissapate and he began going over what had happened in his mind.

I murdered Ladin, he told himself. What did that mean? What did it make him? Looking back, he thought Ladin and Tark might have backed off if he had not just attacked first. Maybe he could have saved her without having to kill anyone. He hoped that Victor and his wife would be able to save Tark's hand.

He did not look at the others as they put distance behind them. No one said anything. The sun was shining brightly, and would have been cheery at any other time. Instead it just felt as though it was judging him from above. Murderer, it whispered to him.

"How can we do this?" Ahriender finally asked. "We can't trust anyone, and every time we try it gets worse. How can there be any place safe to go?"

"Not everyone is like that," Matner said. "Old Fredrickson would not have risked so much if there wasn't a place it would be safe to take you."

"Yeah, I guess not," Ahriender conceded. Sharnellynn said nothing, pressing the back of her hand against her nose. Dir Ketten was claming down on the blooded arm with his free hand.

"Do you need to stop and take care of that?" Matner asked. The nomad hesitated before shrugging and nodding. They stopped. Ahriender hurried forward and offered to help, since the nomad would not be able to tie stitches one handed. "I think I know what to do," the boy explained.

Ahriender helped Dir Ketten get his armor and shirt off and then Matner and Ahriender peered at the wound while Dir Ketten craned his neck to try and get a better look. Ahriender poured some water from his canteen over it to clear away the blood, but it immediately welled up again.

"There's a bolt in there," Dir Ketten said, frowning. "Matner, pull it out. It's long enough you should be able to get it."

Matner nodded and rinsed his hands off with some of his own water before touching the wound. He pressed gently on either side of it, working his way in towards the middle until he felt the hardness of the bolt. He put one hand underneath Ketten's arm to steady it and push from behind while he tried to catch the near end of it with the tips of his fingers. His fingers slipped once in the slick blood, but on the second try he managed to get hold of it, digging in with what fingernails he had to help keep puchase on it to pull it out. The bolt was almost as long as his index finger, but thin. Dir Ketten never made a single noise throughout.

Ahriendeer jumped in and washed the wound out with his water again and had Dir Ketten hold a bandage over it while he readied the needle and thread.

"I can do this. It's not to different from mending clothes or socks," Ahriender said, nodding.

Matner stepped back and let the boy take over, under Dir Ketten's watchful eye. He washed off his hands and then turned to check on Sharnellynn.

The elf sat on the ground to one side, her back to a tree. She had torn some of the fabric off of what was left of her own clothes and sat with one hand holding that to her nose, and the other one holding Matner's shirt closed around her. She stared off into space, looking lost. Matner approached slowly and knelt down on one knee next to her, gesturing towards her nose.

"Here, let me take a look at that," he offered.

"It's nothing," she said, sounding distracted. She turned away from him a little and leaned to better watch what Ahriender was doing. Matner stepped out of the way.

He went to the bags on his horse. Things were divided a little haphazardly, having been attached to horses hurriedly. He rearranged a few bags, and discovered two extra bags that had been grabbed in the rush. One was full of sausages wrapped in cloth strips. The other was a leather satchel full of small vials. Each vial was wrapped in cotton to protect it. He counted twenty little jars of liquids and powders. Most of them were marked with names he did not recognize. He laughed, realizing they had Tannor's bag of medicines. Of course, he had no idea which was supposed to cure what.

Finally he found what he had come looking for. He grabbed another shirt out of his bag. He had four left, plus the one he was wearing under his armor. He was fairly certain she would never want that one. He pulled out the longest one, hoping it would fit her the best and cover the most.

"Here," he said, offering it to her, "have this one instead." She took it without saying thank you. He turned and watched Ahriender finish up with Dir Ketten. All that was left was tying off the outer bandage around the wound.

"Very neatly done," Dir Ketten complemented the boy.

"You never did tell me why you don't usually talk," Ahriender said, beaming as he began tying off the bandage neatly.

"That's because you haven't asked," Dir Ketten replied, with a hint of a smile.

"Alright then, why don't you usually talk?" Ahriender asked, with a laugh.

"Because I find I learn more by listening."

"Oh."

Ahriender seemed to think about this for a while as the two of them stood up.

"Thank you, Ahriender," Ketten said, pulling his shirt back on.

"You're welcome," Ahriender replied, beaming again. "I'm glad you talk to us Dir Ketten."

Dir Ketten gave the boy a noncommittal grunt as a response, but to Matner the nomad seemed amused. Instead of saying more, he gestured that they should get back on their horses. It didn't take long before they were back on the road again, despite the darkness beginning to set in. Matner noticed that Sharnellynn had changed into the new shirt and tucked the torn one into one of the blankets on her horse. She didn't look at him. When she wasn't looking at her son, she seemed to be staring off at nothing. Matner couldn't imagine what the elf was thinking about. He wasn't altogether sure he wanted to know.

On the other hand, he thought, she had been through a lot. He tried to imagine the kinds of things that had happened to her in her life, and found he could not quite do it. He supposed she had reasons for being as she was. Some of them were probably fairly valid reasons.

Training resumed that night. Ahriender's staff had stayed with the horse, so there had been no opportunity for it to be dropped or left behind in the confusion. When they first started Sharnellynn looked about to protest, but she gave up and looked away.

To make her feel better about it, he tried to repeat to Ahriender the speeches given at the academy about the responsibility of carrying a weapon. He mentioned that the staff was considered more a weapon of self defense, and that it was ideally suited for defense of self and others. The length allowed one to keep opponents at a distance. He made a point of using the word opponents over enemies, hoping that would seem less violent to both of them.

Ahriender, of course, listened to it all raptly, as if his life might depend on even the simplest concept. Matner tried to be as focused on the things Dir Ketten taught. He knew that if he was going to make a difference to these two people in his charge that he was going to need to learn everything he could.

While they practiced, Sharnellynn cooked dinner, which she handed out wordlessly to them when it was ready. Matner noticed that she didn't eat much herself. She and Ahriender went to sleep almost immediately after the dinner dishes were cleaned. Matner did as well, wanting to get as much sleep as he could before his shift on watch.

The next few days began to fall into a routine of daytime travel and evening practice. While they stayed somewhat near the road, they continued to keep a hard pace, only slowing enough to keep the horses from exhaustion, and stopping at night. Ahriender seemed to be the only one interested in conversation, asking all manner of questions about weapons and fighting. Since Dir Ketten still continued to only speak when necessary, it fell to Matner to answer the boy, and he suspected it was just making Sharnellynn more and more uncomfortable. She became even more silent than the Nomad, ony speaking to her son, and even that was rare.

They saw the occasional people on the road, going in both directions. They moved past quickly, and avoided them entirely when they could do so without seeming obvious. Matner suspected they were making good pace, but had no idea how much distance they had to travel. They frequently came back to the river again, and sometimes made camp near it. It wasn't until he saw a town large enough to be considered a "city" ahead that he asked if it might be the one they were looking for.

"That's Miln," Dir Ketten told him. "Crossroads town. There's a road from the north that stops here. We still need to follow the river west to Garzer Keep and then the next city west of there is Eerwayh."

"Oh," Matner replied, feeling his hopes sink. Somehow he hadn't realized they still had that much further to go.

"It's a good trade city," Ketten said. "We'll camp out of sight a half-day past it and I'll go back for supplies. I still have the money from that fight."

"Won't people notice you?" Matner asked.

"Not if I don't want them to," Ketten replied.

It wasn't until they made camp that Matner understood why. The nomad pulled clothes from his pack that Ketten hadn't seen him wear before. He moved out of sight to change and Matner almost didn't recognize him when he came back. Without his swords, and dressed in grass-stained overalls and a dirty linen shirt, the man looked no different from an ordinary farmer. He handed the swords to Matner, wrapped in his armor.

"Keep these safe for me. I will return in two days."

"I will," Matner promised.

Then Dir Ketten removed most of the gear from his horse and left camp.

They had two days of waiting ahead of them. He knew that a half-day's walk from any small city would still be farmland. Wandering around would greatly increase the chances of running into someone. They should keep the fire small. He warned them of both items.

There was a spring close by, so they had water. There was a little pool of it where it came up in a natural depression, and some of it trickled away in a miniature creek. It was shallow, but it was enough for bathing with, if not in per se. He let them go first and Sharnellynn did not argue.

He also took the chance to wash what was left of his clothes. What he could he also shared with the others. He had no pants that would fit on Sharnellynn, but some of his clothes fit tolerably, if still loosely, on Ahriender. It was fortunate it was not winter.

They did not bother with watches that night. Matner hoped that there would be less actual trouble wandering this close to town, and they needed the rest enough to risk it.

He and Ahriender spent some time practicing during the day, and he also finally spent some time reading. The first story was about a boy training to become a knight. He ran away from his teacher, frustrated that the training was taking so long. He was attacked by wolves in the night. He fought them off, but was badly hurt.

The boy in the story met another knight on the road. This one was older, and traveled with his daughter, who was good with a bow. The daughter explained that anyone with a sword could be a warrior. But a knight was something special. It was partly training, and partly an oath to serve. In the end the boy decided to return, apologizing for running off, and asking the teacher to finish his training. He swore his oath of service and protection, and grew up to be a wise and brave knight.

He thought about the story after he was finished, and was reminded of the vows he had made when he graduated. He had pledged to serve the King and the kingdom, to lead by example and to try to advance himself and those around him. The only one of those he seemed to be doing was the last, and he was directly countering the first by helping Sharnellynn and Ahriender.

He thought about the oath he'd recited for Salith, instead, and thought that at least by protecting the two, he was protecting life and following closer to Salith's decree than the King's. It had never occurred to him when he'd said the words that the two oaths might one day contradict each other. He also wasn't sure how much peache he was bringing to those he met, as Salith wanted, considering what had happened with the Tannor and his caravan.

Perhaps I should have pledged to Saith after all, like father wanted, he thought to himself, looking up at the sky. He saw both the sun setting in the distance on one horizon, and the whitish circle of the moon already hovering in the other direction. For a moment, he felt guilty, as if both God and Goddess were watching him.

He was distracted by his thoughts by the sound of Sharnellynn and Ahriender arguing. He closed the book and looked over at them. Sharnellynn had fashioned a sort of hood out of the torn shirt. She seemed to be trying to get Ahriender to wear it, but the boy seemed to want none of it.

"Why don't I just pretend to be Human for a while instead?" Ahriender said, obviously angry.

"Because you're not Human, Ahriender. And you ought to be glad of it, too!" Sharnellynn's voice had an edge to it that Matner hadn't heard before. He couldn't be sure, but she sounded almost desperate.

"I'm half Human, Mother -"

"And I'm sorry you have to bear that burden, Ahriender, but there's nothing that can be done about it. If you wear this, it will keep people from seeing -"

"Maybe I want them to see, Mother!" Ahriender shouted. "Maybe I'm sick of hiding what I am. And why bother hiding anyway? The humans at that last caravan seemed to accept me as a slave just fine without a hood to hide my ears. Or am I hiding them so you won't have to see?!"

"Ahriender!" Sharnellynn looked shocked, and Matner saw tears welling in her eyes.

"I mean, it seems to bother you more than it does anyone else," Ahriender said. "You say being half human is a burden. Maybe you're wrong, Mother. Maybe it's the elven half that's the problem. Nobody has said to me that I was only half human. Instead some people say I'm half elf as if that's the bad part. Maybe it is. If I was all human I wouldn't have to hide and run away. Have you thought about that, Mother?"

Ahriender turned away and started tending horses. Sharnellynn stammered, stunned.

"He doesn't mean it like that," Matner reassured her. "He has seen more human perspective. You're the only one representing the elven perspective, so he doesn't know how other elves might view things differently."

He could see that part of her was trying to form words to yell at her son. Her expression was one of stunned betrayal. He could imagine his own mother's reaction. That is no way to speak to your mother, he heard her say. He wondered how much of a mother Sharnellynn had been able to be to her hidden-away son.

"It sounds like he was about half raised by a human who probably accepted him just fine. Old Fredrickson's caravan accepted him just fine. It's probably natural for a child his age to think some of the ways he's thinking right now."

"What would you know about it?" she asked sharply, turning her gaze on him instead.

Her expression was angry, and yet tears rolled down her face at the same time. She was shaking slightly, and Matner realized she was lashing out at the first person she could, not wanting it to be her son. He sighed, preparing himself for the onslaught.

"How many children have you had, Matner Syrus Tibrum the third?" she spat his name out at him as if it disgusted her. "Or did you think I missed that? Larissa said you came from money, and you pulled that little act rather easily back there. Like someone who's quite accustomed to having money and people at their beck and call. Regardless of that, you seem a bit young to have too many bastards of your own, and whether or not someone like you would trouble yourself to worry about their upbringing is another matter entirely. So I don't know what gives you the right to talk to me about raising my own son!"

"Enough!" Matner raised his voice to a bellow as his own father had often done to command silence. He was surprised to see how well it worked, as it seemed to startle Sharnellynn into a stunned silence.

"You don't know a damned thing about me," he pointed out, trying his best to keep his voice calm. "So I would appreciate it if you would just stop making assumptions. If you have a question, then ask it. But otherwise, don't presume to know who I am just because I happen to have been born a Human. As for your son, he is half human and not too unlike a brother I have. My brother is a little younger, but I think they would have gotten along quite well. Maybe that gives me a perspective you don't. Or maybe I don't know a damned thing. Or maybe, just maybe, if you would stop lashing out at me you'd realize I was trying to help. I'm not perfect. I never said I was. But I did say I'd help you, and I've been trying. So the least you could do is stop going on about how horrible you clearly think I am. I am sorry you were treated so poorly at the hands of the Humans who you were with. However, I will no longer play 'whipping boy' for all the wrongs that have been done to you. You can not rest the blame of the entire Human race on my shoulders. I won't have it. And on top of that, sooner or later Sharnellynn, you are going to have to come to terms with the fact that your son not only is of both races, but that he's been raised around more Humans than Elves. His perspective is going to be affected by that."

He stopped there, taking a long, deep breath and letting it out slowly to keep from letting his anger get completely out of hand. He waited for a response, but she said nothing. Instead, she stared off into the fire, tears rolling down her face. He eventually found himself turning away from her again, shaking his head in frustration. A silence settled over the camp, no one speaking until they all crawled into their bedrolls and went to sleep.