Self-Made Scoundrel (24 page)

“Sin, I mean…come on, don’t go. What did I say?” Her hood was already up despite the heat and she walked through the brush toward the road, a grey splash swaying among the sun burned greens and browns of the plants. He couldn’t help but watch her move as she walked away and once she was out of his sight, he spun around, looking to the other Forester who had been watching. “How can someone so beautiful be so….”

“Annoying?” Jezlen finished braiding his long black hair, tying the end with a leather cord and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Sindra and I are both of the Forest. It does not mean I understand her.”

“Yeah, women, eh?” Derk shrugged and walked back over to the camp, sprawling on the ground across from Jezlen, the sun peeking out from behind some clouds overhead. He ran his hand over his scalp as he got comfortable on the grass, not able to keep himself from looking in the direction Sindra had gone. “I mean, I treat her well, don’t I? I practically worship the woman, as if she was the Goddess herself and she never protests, does she? I tell her she’s beautiful and smart. What more does she want from me?” Derk pulled out a handful of grass and tossed it aside, wiping the blades stuck on his hands on his leg.

“What women want, which is whatever we cannot figure out at the moment,” offered Jezlen, his face still morose as if he did not understand the hilarity of his statement. Derk laughed out loud, though not as long as he would have liked; the elf’s serious face dampened his enjoyment of what he thought of as a jest. Jezlen often said things that seemed like they were jokes but he rarely laughed or smiled. Derk cleared his throat, unable to keep his eyes from wandering to the trail again, considering how to ask the Forester a peculiar question heavy on his mind.

“So, Jez, I’ve a query for you,” he said. Jezlen gave no indication he was listening nor that he wouldn’t answer so Derk dove in. The worst that could happen would be Jezlen tuning him out. “I don’t mean to be rude or such but…what’s going on? I mean, you’re related to Sindra and granted she’s got her own little oddities, but you? I don’t get you.” Derk shook his head and looked over Jezlen, his sharp features unfazed by what Derk said. Maybe he had tuned him out, Derk thought, waving his hand in front of the elf’s face. Jezlen set his eyes on Derk with a snap, and they shone as they fastened on him. For a moment, Derk wasn’t sure if Jezlen was about to laugh or strike him but he waited to see the outcome before placing a bet on either emotion.

“You do not…get me?” Jezlen asked. He seemed amused by the question. “And you compare me to Sindra. Sindra and I are not…alike.” The elf looked down to the ground, playing with the edge of his bedroll, his face thoughtful as he spoke “I was born and raised more…secluded than she. She was born in a village and moved to the city. In her temple she is often with other worshipers, able to enjoy the communion of the other followers of the Goddess. I…” The young man just shook his head.

“So, spend a lot of time alone, eh?”

“One could see it that way, I suppose,” Jezlen said, curiosity starting to streak across the lines on his forehead. “It is interesting you say you do not understand me, when in truth, I could say the same about you. You are a difficult man to follow, Derk.”

“I can’t say I follow your meaning,” said Derk, breaking eye contact with the elf whose gaze had become too intense for his liking. He set his own eyes on his shoe and started to undo the laces, busying himself with the banal task of tightening them. “I’m just the meddler, good for a jab every now and again. Asa’s brains, Devra’s brawn and Sindra’s, well…I keep her warm enough at night, I suppose. Sorry I can’t be of much help to you. If you’re ever cold at night, be sure to give me a tug, I’ll see what I can do.”

“You are trying to distract me with your jokes,” said Jezlen, chuckles changing the cadence of his words. “I think you may indeed ‘follow my meaning,’ as you say. You are a strange mix of the high born men drinking wine at their long tables and the common streetsman begging for blueies for a mug of beer. You punch like a bastard and wield your dagger like it’s the finest blade ever forged,” Jezlen smirked, his expression sly as he locked eyes with Derk again, the thief not pulling away this time but staring back. Jezlen slapped at a bug that landed on his neck, muttering something foreign under his breath before looking at Derk once more. “Where does this come from?”

“If I tell you, it takes all the fun out of guessing, don’t it?” Derk wasn’t going to back down and he wasn’t going to give Jezlen what he wanted, as simple a request as it was. He thought he would have been more unnerved by the confrontation but he realized he had been expecting it for a long time. Derk was only surprised that it was Jezlen, who knew him least, who brought it up. Something told him Jezlen asked not out of concern, as might be the case with the others but out of curiosity. His words seemed to intrigue the elf more and his ears actually perked up, his eyes wide with amusement.

“Your past life is a puzzle for me to figure out?” Jezlen asked, laughter finally lilting in his voice. The Forester chuckled, the serious expressions he had pulled the last two weeks seeming miles away from the person who sat before Derk. Jezlen reached into his pack, pulling out a pipe and filling it with tobacco from his tin before bringing it to his lips. “Well, most people are so obvious to read, a challenge is a nice change.”

“You’re the one making the challenge for yourself. I’m an open book!”

“And the story seems to change every time you turn a page,” Jezlen said, pulling a twig out of the campfire to light his pipe. He puffed on it a few times, his mouth twisting, taking a few drags before he wrapped his arms around his legs and stared at Derk, locking his gaze on him again.

“It is obvious you were born to a higher station in life, since raising oneself up in the Valley is difficult, especially in your lifespan. In addition, no one who has started off low and manages to raise himself goes back to the lesser ways of living, if he can help it. You do not strike me as a man who lets things happen to him, but rather as one who makes his way. So you must have thrust yourself upon this lifestyle zealously, probably burning a few bridges in his wake, as they say.” Jezlen puffed again on the pipe as he collected his thoughts like the smoke in his lungs. Derk saw his eyes watering as the herbs worked their way into his brain. Still, Jezlen cocked his head at Derk, something like a smirk showing on his mouth. “You never think what you are doing is wrong. Ever.”

“Oh, everyone thinks that,” Derk said, looking away again, the same previously nervous feeling prickling at his stomach again. He tugged at another handful of grass, trying to toss it into the fire, most of it blowing back on him. “Most people are stubbornly against taking blame, faulting someone or something else.”

“But you actually believe it,” said Jezlen, leaning back on the rock. “In your eyes, you are without blame. If it works for you, fine, and you are conveniently optimistic about the consequences which might befall others. You are definitely the hero of your own story.”

Derk sat there, still pulling up grass with his hands. Was he really all those things? He shook his head, sneering sightly as he looked the elf dead in the eye. “Well, if you’re so smart, what about you? You’re finished gutting me out here on the grass, how about you make me feel not so sheepish and show a little bone?”

Jezlen grinned, a peculiar smile which seemed more wolfish than anything else. “Ah, you will take the safe bet and not try to analyze me yourself, fearing you may be wrong. I am not a complicated person.” He held up his hand, counting off as he spoke, starting off with his thumb. “I am driven by the base things. Hunger, thirst, lust, things of that nature. I want peace of mind. Sometimes while looking for peace, I am led to danger.” Jezlen took one last drag off of the pipe before offering it Derk with both hands. “I have found both with you, I think.”

“My bedroll offer was a joke, Jezlen!” Derk laughed, taking the pipe from him and bringing the tip of it to his lips. He had never smoked before and it showed as he puffed on it, immediately exhaling, choking on the first real pull he took. The smart comment he had meant to say stuck in his throat as he coughed. He felt his eyes watering.

“You do not smoke?” asked Jezlen, laughing loudly. It was an awkward sound, almost rusty as if he wasn’t used to being amused “What kind of ruffian are you? At least tell me you play cards!”

“Now that, I do,” Derk said after a good while, tears streaming from his eyes, his throat feeling raw. “I’ll go get my cards.”

“Oh no, we will be using mine,” insisted Jezlen, reaching into his pack and pulling out a deck, untying the ribbon keeping the cards together. “You may not smoke like a dog but I imagine your card skills include tricks. I do not wish to be thrashed outright.”

“Do elven dogs smoke? And I can play for pleasure,” Derk said, chuckling slightly as the elf began to deal, watching the cards he lay in front of him. Jezlen didn’t trust him. Derk had to laugh, sighing as he picked up the cards and looked over them. “It’ll be nice to play for fun and not for supper. Though I warn you,” he added, eyes glinting merrily at someone he now considered a friend. “The thrashing will come whether we use your cards or not.”

Past, Present, and Future

“Thanks, mam,” Derk laughed, taking the food from Asa. Asa blushed and Devra looked up from her journal, glaring at Derk. “Tits, it was just a joke,” he shot, panic rising in his voice. “Lay off me.”

“I know it was,” Asa said, handing a plate to Jezlen. The Forester wrinkled his nose at the food. “Didn’t your pa ever cook for you?”

“My pa never cooked a day in his life,” Derk said. That was the truth. If his mother cooked, he didn’t remember, and his step-mother never had. “You just…you’re a mother hen, Asa.”

“He’s always been that way,” Devra shot. “Asa’s a caring person. It’s just the way he is. You should be glad someone can cook, and cook well at that.”

Jezlen screamed and Derk jumped in his seat, wondering what had caused the elf to startle so. Hot grease dripped down his chin. Derk smirked and cut into his food, shaking his head. “Too simple to know how to eat a sausage?”

“We do not have exploding meat where I am from,” Jezlen said, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. He had a red mark under his mouth.

“You should put something on that,” Asa said, putting the spoon back in the pot and turning to Jezlen. “It’s going to leave a scar if you don’t.”

“Maybe you should kiss it and make it all better,” Derk offered. Jezlen batted his eyelashes at the brawny Asa and soon the three men were laughing. Devra didn’t seem to be amused by Derk’s joke.

“Don’t fret, Devra. You know Derk was only kidding.” Asa said, retrieving the medicine bag.

“Maybe a kiss from you would be work better,” Jezlen said to Devra. He tilted his head to her with something like hope. The corners of Devra’s mouth curled upward slightly.

“I’ll break your neck, Jez, and no amount of kisses would heal it,” Asa said. Derk laughed loudly, and Asa and Devra joined in though the Forester seemed less amused. He rubbed the salve on his chin.

“When is the priestess coming back?” Jezlen asked.

“Eh, she said she wanted to fellowship with the other priestesses but she wouldn’t be too long.” Asa served himself food finally and sat down next to his sister, bringing her plate as well. “The service was very good. The priestess spoke on the Goddess and the Sympathy of the Willow Tree. ”

“I’m familiar with the sermon,” Derk said, finishing his meal and pulling out his handkerchief to clean his hands. He knew the story by heart. It was one of favorites, actually. He huffed, actually disappointed he had missed it. “Did they sing ‘In Thine Arms’?” Derk found the small bag he kept his dice in and pulled them out.

“Yeah, actually.” Asa’s brows furrowed on his face. “I’d never heard it before.”

“It’s a shame. It’s a beautiful song,” Derk said quickly. He rattled his dice in his hand. “Written by the Sister Kerida of the Silver Heart.”

“Did Sindra tell you this?” Devra asked, smirking.

“No, I know about it because I pay attention and read,” he shot. “I’m probably the most devout out of all of you, I’ll have you know. And not just because of Sindra.” It seemed like a lifetime ago, but afternoons spent with the priestess and evenings with his brother had embedded the information in his brain. His own loneliness fueled his devotion. The more he attended temple, the angrier his father had seemed. And ever since taking up his new life he didn’t see the reason to stop attending service. It was quiet and peaceful. Under The Goddess’ cool gaze he could sort out his thoughts, packing the ones he didn’t want to deal with away and giving them over to her, keeping gladness in his heart. He had to be devout. In his own way, but he did love the Goddess.

“Definitely more devout than I am,” Jezlen muttered. The elf rubbed at his chin and looked at his hand, grimacing.

“That’s not saying much,” Devra said.

“Anyone up for a game of dice?” Derk offered. Only one was loaded. “Crow Catcher? Blossom Fall? Chaw?”

“I like Chaw,” Asa said, eyes brightening. “We used to play it in training school. I won a pair of britches once.” He smiled proudly.

“Are you a lucky fellow then, Asa?” Derk asked, throwing the dice into his other hand. He’d won more than a pair of pants in his time but he wasn’t about to go into the details and dissuade his friends from play. Besides, he wanted to play to pass the time, not for supper.

“My mam says I am,” Asa said without a trace of irony or sarcasm. Derk managed to not laugh, but he caught Devra giving her brother a pained look.

“I am playing,” Jezlen said quickly. Derk squatted down, the rest of them circling around for the game. A rustle in the grass drew Derk’s eyes and he smiled as he saw Sindra come up over the hill, the sun setting behind her. She smiled primly at Derk and the rest of them.

“I’ll play in a bit, I’ll get you some supper fixed, Sin,” Asa said, starting to rise from his seat.

“No need to worry, Asa. I had evening meal at the temple.” Sindra bowed her head. Derk narrowed his eyes at her. She seemed a bit less jovial than normal. What had happened in town?