The Companions of Tartiël (17 page)

With a grimace, Astra tugged at the pillow under her back. Kaiyr stopped her from straining herself and eased her back down onto the bed, tossing the extra pillows aside. She lay back with a relieved sigh and closed her eyes, not saying anything.

Giving her a concerned look, Kaiyr calmed himself when he saw her breathing return to its former, steady rhythm. Once more, he settled on the floor, now next to Vinto, on whose head Astra’s hand lay limply. Just as the elf closed his eyes, Astra spoke again. “Kaiyr, keep me awake. I don’t want to go back to sleep yet. Tell me about your home. Why did you leave?”

Kaiyr turned around again to face her, rising only long enough to settle on the edge of the bed, where he could more easily converse with her. He sat for several long moments, unused to being asked about his origins. “There is precious little to tell,” he said slowly, staring at the wall opposite him. “I come from a small, elven village in the far northeast reaches of Vintiens. It is so small that one could not find it on any map that did not originate from my home.”

“What’s it called? What’s it like?” Astra tiredly settled her hands over her belly, eyes still closed, and listened to the elf’s words.

“We call it Ivyan,” Kaiyr replied. “My people, we live in the boughs of the trees in small, wooden houses connected by rope bridges. There are perhaps four hundred of us living there. We have numerous, small patches of fertile ground that get enough sun for us to cultivate berries and grain, and the older children are tasked with tending such gardens.” His voice took on a faraway quality, as though he were not there in the room with Astra; and indeed, his mind, at least, was not. He let his thoughts soar several thousand miles to the north and east, to the home he had left behind nearly a year ago.

“In the morning, the sun’s light filters through the trees, lighting the village in a gentle, green glow that rouses us from our nightly reverie. Our lives trickle gently about the village like a meandering stream. I rise earlier than the others, and my father and I train for two hours before the morning meal. Afterward, Mother composes her songs higher in the branches of the trees, and her music settles over the village. On quiet days, she plays soothing melodies, and when there is work to be done, she invigorates us with rousing tunes.

“I spend much of my time practicing with my father, Blademaster Sorosomir Stellarovim,” Kaiyr went on. Astra lay with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open as she imagined the places and activities her companion described. “I still cannot compare to him as a blademaster. He sees and hears everything which I miss, always knows exactly the moves I will make while we spar, even before I make them. I have seen him strike deep into the hard carapaces and scales of many beasts which my spirit cannot penetrate in the least.” His hands balled up into fists on his robes.

After a breath, Astra inhaled and told him quietly, “Don’t be angry with yourself, Kaiyr.”

“I am not angry,” he lied, too quickly. He knew she saw through him, and he let out a sigh. “I am deeply disappointed in myself for my failure as a blademaster, Lady Astra.”

The nymph snorted, then winced at the pain the motion caused in her side. “Ow. Kaiyr, you’re not a failure just because you didn’t notice a couple thugs who were taking pains not to be seen at the end of a dark, narrow alley. If you think this is your fault alone, then why didn’t Caineye or Wild see them? I don’t see the two of them beating themselves up over it. Don’t call it a blizzard just because one snowflake has fallen.”

Kaiyr’s expression softened, and he nodded his accord. “I understand, Lady Astra. However, for a blademaster, a single failure could mean the deaths of those he is sworn to protect—in this case, yourself, Lady Astra. I—”

“Could you stop with this ‘Lady Astra’ and ‘my lady’ business, kiddo?” she interrupted him exasperatedly, throwing her arms up into the air limply.

The elf looked at Vinto, who seemed to be grinning at him, and replied, “No, Lady Astra, I cannot. It would be rude. By the same token, I could ask you to discontinue referring to myself and my companions as ‘kids’ and ‘kiddo,’ and you would give me much the same reply.”

She muttered something incoherent and let out a sigh. Then, after a few moments, she turned back to their conversation: “So, what made you leave your little town? The lure of adventure?”

Kaiyr offered her a smile. “No. Rare is the blademaster who is overcome with wanderlust. My purpose is twofold: to recover the Helm of Ministriel, a relic stolen from my village a year past, and to complete my training as a blademaster. The purposes are one and the same, truly; I become a blademaster when I return to Ivyan with the Helm in my hand.”

Astra frowned. “Ministriel, you say? Old artifact, kind of a rustred color?”

“Yes, it is a piece of a set,” Kaiyr replied, nodding. “Is something the matter?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted, “but I heard rumors of some treasure hunters trying to steal a couple of similar-sounding items from a small town about a week’s ride north of here, a little place called Andorra. You might look for answers there.”

The patter of feet outside the door broke their conversation, and Kaiyr tensed as the lock clicked and the door opened. Wild stuck his head inside, and Caineye appeared a moment later, towering over the halfling. “Guys!” Wild exclaimed, a wolfish grin on his face. “You’ll never guess what we heard while we were at market. Master Kaiyr, remember that dragon from last week? We found it! We found it! Someone coming in from the docks said he’d fled the place when it showed up!” He verily leaped into the room when Caineye prodded him from behind. “Oh, hey, Astra. Good to see you alive.”

“Heh, thanks,” was all for which she still had energy.

Caineye followed him in, set the cloth he had bought on a chair, and handed Kaiyr three
potions of cure light wounds
. The elf thanked the druid and tucked the magical trinkets away in his sleeves. “What place might this be?” Kaiyr asked, brushing a lock of his blue hair out of his face.

Caineye answered for Wild. “It’s a small elven town to the north, maybe a week’s ride away, if we take a slow airship or ride on horseback. It’s called Andorra.”

Astra mustered enough energy to lift her head, and she and Kaiyr exchanged incredulous glances. “Well,” the blademaster said, indicating she should lie back down, “I suppose we know whither we shall next be headed.”

Kaiyr remained with Astra while she slept for several more hours. She had claimed to be able to walk to the docks with them after some more rest. Caineye, Vinto, and Wild headed down to the common room for dinner. Caineye brought Kaiyr a meal before beginning his own, and the blademaster was thankful for the sustenance.

When the nymph awoke, she already looked to be in much better condition, thanks to the combined power of Caineye’s healing magic and Kaiyr’s potions. Under the cover of the evening shadows and the populace that was still out and about, they managed to make it to the docks without further incident, and once there, they quietly booked rooms aboard a large airship heading to Is’den that was going to stop in Andorra along the way.

*

“So, you guys have a week’s journey ahead of you,” Dingo told us as we all blew sighs at having made it out of Is’thvern in one piece, and with Astra, no less. “What are your plans for the time you’ll be in flight? Kaiyr?”

“I’m going to be sewing my new robes, ones that’ll actually be slightly magical and give me a couple minor bonuses,” I said. “The process will take most of the week, but I’ll still have twelve hours a day I don’t have to spend making them or sleeping.”

Matt nodded toward me. “Make sure you make that dress nice and pretty, now.”

I chuckled and stuck out my tongue at him. “Maybe I’ll have enough cloth left to make you a matching set, half-a-man,” I shot back, using an in-game insult often used against halflings and the other shorter races of D&D. “I’ll see if I can find some lace and frills for yours. And you,” I went on, rounding on Xavier when I heard him chuckle at Wild’s joke, “you’d better enjoy yourself. I might like a new fur shawl after I’m done with my dress.”

“Ooh,” Dingo said when Xavier threw me a mock glare. “Fight, fight, fight!”

“Pah, I could take a druid any day,” I boasted, laughing.

“Just content yourself with sewing your dress,” Dingo said, stepping in, and I threw up my hands in exasperation.

“It’s not a dress,” I muttered, but nobody heard me, since Dingo was busy asking Xavier about Caineye’s plans.

“Well, I’ll probably spend a lot of my time on deck with Vinto,” he told the DM. “I don’t really have anything important to do.”

“All right. Matt, what about Wild? What’s he up to?”

Matt grinned and clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “I’m gonna pick me some pockets,” he announced, picking up his d20. “Unless something happens, I’m probably going to be stealing stuff all week, mostly rings, I think, but I’ll take anything shiny.”

“All right. Roll me, oh, ten Sleight of Hand checks,” Dingo told him, also taking up his d20. “What’s your bonus?”

“Hehehe. Plus thirteen.”

Dingo’s eyes popped. “Plus thirteen? At level two?”

Matt nodded and glanced down at his sheet. “I’ve got five ranks in it, plus four for my Dexterity score, two from synergy with Bluff, and two from a feat,” he said proudly. Then, looking up at Dingo, he winked. “Go ahead, Spot that. I dare you.”

Dingo shook his head and rolled his d20 around in his hand. “I dunno. I might not. All right. Let’s roll off.” The two of them rolled their d20s simultaneously ten times, comparing the results after applying bonuses. Dingo was rolling for relatively untrained, normal people, while Wild’s rolls represented much training, practice, and even natural knack for the skill. He won every roll.

*

Kaiyr looked over at his cabin door as it opened toward him. He shared the two-bed room with Wild, and so, when the halfling appeared in the doorway, the blademaster relaxed and looked back at the long sheet of midnight blue fabric he held stretched between both hands. As he turned away, he caught a glimpse of a pair of rings on the halfling’s fingers which had not been there only half an hour previous.

Hiding a frown of consternation as Wild skipped into the room, Kaiyr said, “Master Wild, would you mind holding this cloth aloft at one end for me?”

“Hm?” Wild looked up from his new rings. “Ah, Master Kaiyr. Certainly. Anything to help you make your new, uh, robes.”

Dragging a chair over toward the door, Wild hopped up onto it and lifted the fabric as Kaiyr took the other end and stretched it out so it almost reached the back wall. The halfling whistled appreciatively, eyeing the thread-of-silver pattern of slender leaves on the dark blue, double weave, silk brocade. “This is quite the quilt you’ve got here, Blademaster,” he commented. He did not see Kaiyr studying the fabric momentarily before extending one arm. Just in time, Wild retracted his nose as something flashed by in a glittering arc.

“Watch it!” he complained as the blademaster deftly caught all the pieces of the fabric he wanted before they fluttered to the ground. Wild let go of his end of the fabric, pausing to marvel at the perfectly-cut pattern for a robe.

“My apologies, Master Wild,” Kaiyr replied somewhat stiffly. “I thought you understood what I was doing.”

“Well, I did, but does that mean I can’t appreciate art while I’m at it?”

In response, Kaiyr just tossed him one end of his white bolt of silk. Catching it, Wild rolled his eyes and held it up, and the two of them repeated the process, minus Wild’s near-loss of one perfectly functional nose; then again for the bolt of tougher-spun, black silk.

“My thanks,” Kaiyr said, gathering all the cut pieces together, rolling the chaff into a small bundle, and leaving it by the door.

“Uh, not a problem,” Wild replied, watching the blademaster work.
Damn, he barely wasted an inch of that stuff
, the halfling thought to himself. “Anyway, in case you’re wondering, dinner’s about to be served. I thought I’d come tell you, since you’re so intent on your work here.”

“Ah, thank you. I should be along shortly. I have a few more things I would like to accomplish before I join everyone for the meal.” Kaiyr laid out the fabric on his bed, then picked up the white silk and began inspecting the edges of his handiwork.

“That’s what you’ve been saying for the past three days,” Wild muttered, heading outside and toward the scent of food.

Kaiyr barely noted the halfling rogue’s exit, instead focusing on the cloth before him. He had much to do before he could wear these robes, and less than half of it had to do with actually sewing it.

After concluding that his cuts were precisely where he wanted them to be, he set out the fabric in front of him, starting with the white. Closing his eyes, he touched the garments-to-be and let his spirit rise to the surface of his being, guiding it toward and through his fingertips, into the cloth. He took a journey through the thread, following the weft and warp through each layer of fiber and gaining an understanding of the connections which held the pieces together. Just as many single men make an army, thousands upon thousands of individual fibers together made the cloth. It was this analogy which stood like pillars in the matrix of Kaiyr’s mind, the connection he needed to make between himself and the robes that would allow him to push his power out through the material.

The door opening again interrupted, but did not break, his concentration. Instead, he slowly backed out of his brief journey into the silk as wordless sounds poured into his ears and continued on their way.

Looking up, he saw Astra standing over him, her brow furrowed over her violet eyes and a pout on her pretty lips. “I said: what are you still doing in here?” she demanded, apparently not for the first time.

Kaiyr rose and fully emerged from his reverie. “My apologies, Lady Astra, for requiring you to repeat your question. But to answer it, I was working on my robes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “It looked more like you were dreaming.” He opened his mouth to reply, but she stopped him with a raised hand. “No, don’t bother. I probably wouldn’t understand your spirituality speech at all, Kaiyr. More importantly, you’re going to miss dinner again if you don’t come
right now
.”