Angel's Creed, four
Chapter four, in which half the chapter is told from Oriole's POV and I had to completely re-write all of his narration because it sounded way too complex for a 10yo POV. 8,351 words.
FEEDBACK IS AWESOME. I would like to know:
- What you like
- What you dislike
- Whether anything pulls you out of the reading (poor phrasing, something happens that you have to stop to puzzle out, a world-specific thing is ill-defined enough to stop your reading inertia, can't tell who's speaking for a certain line or set of lines, etc)
- God do I abuse italics or what? Is it distracting or does it seem appropriate?
- Your impressions of characters as you get to know them?
- Other thoughts, comments, or concerns
Chapter 4
They finally made it to Rodale several hours after nightfall, the remainder of their trip thankfully uneventful. Once they'd lost the sun, Qiver had provided light in the form of an ambient glow centered on himself - something that was easy enough for any light-innate mage.
Matt could honestly admit that the last thing he'd ever expected to see out of the Nenakret was a light-innate goblin mage. Then Qiver started trying to see what else in the forest he could make glow. Even as mages, goblins were still goblins.
Matt finally told him to stop when he lit up an entire fir like daylight and accidentally magnetized it.
When they got into the city, their groups parted ways. Joel was relieved to see Zahn gone, which made Matt curious. He was such a calm and collected sort of person, why would being around another elf make him seem so anxious? He decided not to ask. If prior conversation was any indicator, he wouldn't get an answer anyway.
They found a room for the night and everyone was asleep within minutes. In the morning, they packed up and walked to the only public ferry in the city.
Rodale was essentially split in half by the river, south Rodale on Almsland's side and north Rodale on Ligaram's side. The north was commonly referred to as Ligarodale and served more as a service stop than a full-on city. The only way to get across the river was, of course, by taking a ferry.
Several years ago, a family of goblins had taken up residence in Rodale, bringing with them an invention they called the steam engine. Their steam-powered ferry had quickly driven all the others out of business, and the only alternative ferries were private charters mostly used for carting caravan wagons across the river. If the general public wanted to cross the Lujan, they had to use the goblins' ferry.
Unfortunately, the steam engine was just as unreliable as most experimental goblin technology.
Matt stared at the goblin standing on the dock. "What."
The goblin stood there like a four-foot tall brick wall in a blue captain's uniform and clearly repeated, "Ferry's not running today." The two red shapes serving as eyes on his otherwise completely black mask stared Matt down, daring him to argue it.
He tried not to feel intimidated. "Why not?"
"Steam engine's on the fritz-"
As if on cue there was a loud bang from the docked vessel behind the captain and a plume of black smoke rose into the air. A high-pitched, "I can fix that!" followed.
The captain didn't even bat an eye - metaphorically speaking. He just stood there, unflinching, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. It probably did. "Come back tomorrow."
Matt sighed, turned around, and herded his party away from the dock. "I guess we have a day off."
Neither Amelia nor Joel seemed to mind.
They went back to the inn and got another room for the night. Joel wanted to see if he could find any caravan runners set to leave in the immediate future, because accompanying a caravan would be much safer than the three of them going alone. Amelia insisted that it looked like rain and wouldn't let him leave without bringing his cloak along. He didn't argue.
After he left, Amelia approached Matt and cautiously asked, "Um, you know a lot about guns, right?"
He arched an eyebrow at her. "You could say that. Why?"
She pulled out her revolver, holding it gingerly between her hands. "Can you teach me how it works?"
He stared at this timid Amelia approaching him for information and wondered when she'd been replaced with some sort of well-mannered golem. His eyes fell to the weapon and he took it from her, inspecting it. Revolvers weren't terribly complicated. It'd be easy enough to explain, if she was actually able stop talking long enough to listen. "Your esteemed Uncle Esteban didn't teach you?"
"He explained it a little, but he mostly just taught me how to shoot it. I didn't really think about asking how it worked."
He swung out the cylinder and unloaded it. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
Her pause was long enough that he looked up, about to prompt her for a response. She tucked her bangs behind her ear, eyes averted. "It won't shoot on the Spirit Plane unless I know how it works."
"Ah." That was all he needed to hear. Yesterday's encounter had scared her and she wanted to put herself in control.
She'd seemed like the type of person who expected everyone to do everything for her. He thought she'd just rely on him, her escort, to protect her, or demand that Bernard guard her on the Spirit Plane. The fact that she showed some initiative and asked for help, not in getting something done but in learning how to do it herself, that gave him some respect for her.
"Well, revolvers aren't too complicated. It should be easy enough for you...to..." He sighted down the barrel and frowned. "When's the last time you cleaned this thing?"
"Umm..." She grinned sheepishly and looked away.
He sighed. Respect significantly diminished. He handed back the gun and the bullets and went to retrieve his cleaning kit.
* * *
"Hey." Zahn tugged on Oriole's sleeve, nearly making him spill hot soup all over himself.
"Ah! What!" He lowered the bowl to the table, glaring at Zahn.
"That's the priest over there, isn't it?" Zahn pointed to a table in the shadowy corner of the tavern where a blond elf sat with a cloaked figure.
Oriole frowned, craning his head to look.
"Don't look!" Zahn hissed, grabbing his head and turning it back toward the table.
"But you just-"
Zahn leaned in, a finger set against the mask's painted-on grin. "Shhhh."
Oriole was not amused.
Qiver, across the table from Zahn and Oriole, said, "It looks like him."
"He's dressed different, though." In his brief glimpse, Oriole had at least been able to see that. The elf was wearing a black cloak and wasn't dressed like a priest. "And all elves look the same, anyway."
Zahn leaned back, somehow managing to look offended even though Oriole couldn't see the face under that mask. "We do not!"
"How would you know?" Oriole asked, mockingly. "You're a goblin."
"Yeah. A really tall, elven one."
"Then you know all elves look the same."
"You are too smart-ass to seriously only be ten years old."
He smiled proudly. "I am a prodigy."
With a shake of the head, Zahn glanced back at the elf. "It's definitely him, though. Who's he with? Richards and the summoner didn't look like the sort of people who'd be big on the all-concealing cloak look."
"It's not that weird. It's raining."
"Maybe you should-"
"No!" He slammed his fist down on the table, pointing up into Zahn's mask. "No, don't you even! Don't say it!"
"Use that-"
"No, stop! Just stop!"
"Trustworthy face," Qiver finished, in Zahn's place.
Oriole groaned and thumped his elbows down on the table, setting his face in his hands.
Zahn reached out to pat his shoulder. "It's a burden, having such a trustworthy face, I know."
"I hate you." He glared up at Zahn. "And how would you know what a trustworthy face looks like, anyway! You're a goblin!"
"Oh yeah..." Zahn's head tilted back, hand going to the mask the same way people set their fingers over their mouths to look thoughtful. "I don't even have a face."
Oriole's glare became dismay. "You what?"
Zahn shrugged. It was very exaggerated, like everything Zahn did. "It's goblin culture, you know? No faces. Just masks."
Qiver nodded his agreement.
"Oh." Oriole felt a little let down. He'd expected some horrible story about Zahn's face being burned off in an accident or something. It'd explain the stupid goblin imitation a lot better. "That's dumb."
"It's not dumb!" Qiver climbed to his feet on his chair, tiny hands slamming down on the table. "Goblins are the only people civilized enough-"
"Hey, hey, cool it," Zahn interrupted. "Think you can follow them, Oriole?"
"Wh...what?" Oriole looked from Qiver, who quietly sat down at Zahn's request, to Zahn, who was looking backward toward the table where the elf and the cloaked figure were getting up to leave. "Why?"
"Because I'm curious."
"But I'm eating! If you're curious, you can follow them!"
Zahn let out a heavy sigh and followed the sight of the two leaving the tavern. "Ah, well, I think we're all taking the ferry tomorrow anyway. You can ask him then."
"Why me?!"
"Because you're the one with the-"
"Augh! Never mind!"
* * *
By morning the rain had subsided to a miserable drizzle and the city was coated in a heavy fog. The ferry was running again despite this, the crew's engineer assuring everyone that the weather was not a problem now that the steam engine was working properly.
What was a problem was that stopping the ferry for a full day had left a lot of people stranded on one side or the other, and now they were all trying to get across. The captain had organized a line and was going down, counting off passengers for the next few trips.
It was in this line that Matt and his companions stood, unfortunately not as far toward the front as he would have liked.
To combat the weather, Matt had thrown his white coat over the rest of his uniform. His non-standard-issue leather coat. What Sterling didn't know couldn't hurt Matt.
Over his senior priest uniform, Joel wore the same black cloak he'd been forced to take out the day before.
Amelia had been stuck suffering through the drizzle in just her sweater, which made Matt ask why her esteemed Uncle Esteban hadn't given her a fancy coat to go along with everything else. She wailed, "I lost it!" He dropped it at that.
Joel had shoved his coat at her, whether out of genuine concern or to make her stop whining, Matt couldn't tell. The coat was slightly small on her, because she had a couple inches on Joel, but she seemed satisfied. As long as she wasn't complaining, so was Matt.
Last night, Joel had managed to find them a caravan heading for Wey, leaving as soon as its leader could get back across the river to the rest of her crew. That was convenient. Since Ligaram consisted largely of wide open spaces with villages scattered few and far between the three major city-states, there was an awful lot of wild land for bandits to call their own. Thus most who traveled there sought the safety of numbers, and caravans were common enough that you usually didn't have to wait more than a week to find one going your way. Still, to find one that was headed out the same day they were was quite a stroke of luck.
The goblin captain reached them and stopped, directing his creepy black mask with its red eyes up at Joel. "You're last on." He pointed to Amelia. "You're first on." His finger moved to Matt. "Your lizard goes on the lower deck."
"Roger that," Matt replied, but he was interrupted by Amelia's, "Wait, you can't split us up!"
"It'll be fine, Amelia," Joel said. Mostly because the captain was walking away without bothering to reply.
She frowned, gaze falling as she shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe we should just come back in the afternoon," she said, more to herself than anyone else.
"The caravan will have left by then," Joel replied. "Which would be terribly inconvenient for us."
She pouted, but didn't argue.
They remained silent through the first boarding, and through the line's movement to catch up to the dock. Something about the miserable weather discouraged chatter.
The silence was broken by a beastman who approached them from the direction of the line's front. She had the vaguely wolfish face of a Ramur - the type most people considered the "default" beastman.
Her clothes did not cover nearly as much as they should have (which by Almsland's standards was "everything") and her well-defined muscles were visible even beneath her red fur. She was better built than some ANGELs. Matt did not doubt that this girl could fight.
But that sparse clothing meant she wasn't dressed for the weather. She smelled like wet dog. Amelia wrinkled her nose.
She stopped in front of Joel, who looked back attentively. "You're, um..." Her head cocked and a multitude of tiny braids swung behind her. "Joe, was it?" Her Ligaram accent was subdued but obvious, somewhere between the extremes of Wey's prim and proper and Guram's harsh and thuggish.
"Joel," he corrected politely.
"Right, Joel. Um, Maddie wanted t' talk with you, if that's alright?"
"Maddie?" Amelia questioned.
Joel ignored her to ask, "Right now?"
"Um..." The Ramur scratched at her cheek, fingers brushing the green tattoo under her right eye. "Yeah?"
Joel turned to Amelia to explain, "Maddie is the woman I spoke with in charge of the caravan. If I don't return, we should wait for each other on the other side."
"Roger," Matt replied.
"Wait!" Amelia protested. "I'll go with-"
"Just let him go, Varista. He'll be fine."
She pouted again, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself.
The Ramur gave a shrug and an apologetic smile and led Joel away.
* * *
"Oh my god, stop staring!" Oriole shouted, throwing up his hands.
Zahn, looking lovestruck, continued staring. Oriole didn't need to see the eyes under that mask to know that they were focused on the steamboat's captain. "But Arch-Captain Maks is so dashing, don't you think?"
"No, that's gross."
"That uniform looks so good on him..."
"Ugh! I didn't know you were a girl."
That made Zahn turn to him, hands on hips. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Um, that you act like a girl?"
"For your information," Zahn said haughtily, hand over chest, "I am not a boy or a girl. I am a Nagan. An it."
"You should know this," Qiver piped up.
"You should know this," Zahn agreed. "How long have you known me?"
"Um, not very? It's not like I hung around you a lot before we got sent out together." Oriole folded his arms. "And anyway, that's weird. You can't be an 'it.' It doesn't work that way."
Zahn leaned down to pat him on the head. Zahn was only an inch or so taller, which made it even more insulting. "It's so cute how you think you know everything."
Oriole grunted, pulling away and tugging down on the brim of his hat.
"You can make it up to me by finding that kid and asking what he was up to yesterday."
"Oh come on!"
"Or do you want to spend some more time telling somebody thirty times your age about the nature of the universe, first?"
Oriole glowered.
"If you go, I won't make any 'trustworthy face' comments for a day."
He sighed and walked off to find Joel.
Mostly, he just wandered down the line for a while. His plan was to waste some time and then go back and claim he couldn't find him.
Unfortunately for his plan, Oriole did find him. He knew it was Joel because he was wearing his priest uniform under his cloak. Otherwise, well, Oriole had only been half-joking when he said all elves looked the same.
Joel was talking to a big grey-striped Gura woman. Oriole hung back and waited for them to finish talking. It sounded like boring business stuff; he didn't really pay attention. Instead, he stared at the Ramur girl standing next to the Gura. The symbol tattooed on her stomach was one he'd seen before.
He realized the conversation was over when Joel ended it with a polite bow. Oriole ran over before he could take two steps away. "Hey, I saw you yesterday!" he said, putting on his best cheerful kid act.
Joel stopped, looking back at him with a polite smile. "Oh?"
"Yeah, at the tavern. I was wondering why you weren't with your friends."
"Ah..." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Yesterday I spent an appreciable amount of time seeking out a caravan that would take us to Wey. I suppose you must have seen me then."
"Oh." Was that it? Zahn was thinking too hard. The cloaked person he'd been with didn't look big enough to be a Gura, but he'd probably had to talk to a lot of people before he found somebody. That wasn't weird at all.
Now Oriole felt like he'd come all this way for nothing - not that it had been very far.
As long as he was here, he might as well ask some other things. "Hey, um, so Zahn keeps wondering why you're not in Sureloum."
Joel's eyes narrowed, but his smile didn't change. "If the Nagan is curious about me, it can ask me itself."
Oriole dropped the cheerful act now that he'd gotten Zahn's questions asked. No need to put on a show when he didn't need anything. "Okay, I'll tell him you said that. He's pretty annoying though, just so you know."
"Mm. I have uncommon amounts of patience."
"Sure, that's an elf thing, right? 'Cause you guys live so long."
"That isn't quite what I meant, but I suppose that's true."
"You know, Zahn keeps saying it's weird that you're a priest, 'cause you're so young, but I get it." He smiled, cocky and smug. "You're a child prodigy, right? Like me."
Joel looked at Oriole like he'd only just noticed him. His smile softened into something very genuine. Not that his usual smile didn't look genuine, but it just seemed...deeper somehow. "Maybe." He sounded amused. "I'd never thought of it that way. I've lived among humans for several decades. I've come to see time the way they do, and by their standards I am very much no longer a child."
"Well, when Zahn asks you about that stuff, you can just tell him that."
"Perhaps I shall."
Before either of them could continue, the Ramur girl called out from behind them, "Oi, Joe, you comin'?"
"It's Joel," he called back as he turned toward her.
Oriole looked too and saw the line moving. That meant Qiver and Zahn were going to be getting on, which meant he should be too. "Oh, I should go," he said, stepping away from Joel.
Joel glanced back toward the end of the line. His own group was probably down there. The girl called out again, "Oi! Are you in this group? You should jus' come with us if you are!"
He sighed and turned toward the dock, hesitating for a second before following.
Oriole fell into step beside him. "She's kind of bossy, huh?"
"Insistent perhaps, but I wouldn't go so far as bossy. It's alright. Girls can be that way at her age."
"Zahn's that way, but I don't think he's a girl her age."
That got a chuckle out of Joel, but he quickly covered it up with the back of his hand.
"It's okay, you can laugh. I'm funny."
"Humour notwithstanding, it's impolite to laugh at the expense of others."
Arch-Captain Maks was standing at the bottom of the ramp, taking fares. Oriole dug through his pockets, trying to find twenty drachma. Zahn had most of their Almsland money - Oriole was only carrying Nenakret gold, and they didn't take that here.
The girl with the braids smiled brightly and offered him a few coins. "Here, fifteen lira'll get you across."
He blinked at her. And then he took the money. Belatedly a, "Thank you," followed.
Oriole had never seen lira before, but he knew it was what Ligaram used as money. Since the ferry went to both sides of the river, it made sense that they'd take Ligaram money and Almsland money.
"That was kind of her," Joel said, as she paid her own fare and walked up the ramp onto the ferry. "You should thank her properly. Not everyone is willing to be so generous."
"You're not my mom," Oriole muttered, passing the money off to the goblin.
He took Oriole's money, and then looked up at Joel and said, "You're last on."
"My companions are aware of that, captain. Your numbers are fine."
"Arch-Captain." He held a hand out.
"Arch-Captain. My apologies."
Oriole waited while Joel pulled out his money chain. Money chains were a new concept for him. Almsland drachma was made with a hole in the middle, and Almslanders strung coins together on chains instead of keeping them in coin-purses or their pockets. It was kind of a neat idea.
Joel slid three coins off the chain and dropped them into the captain's outstretched hand. "Pay in advance for my companions. They will, of course, be the first in line when you return to this side of the river."
"Of course."
He led Oriole up the ramp as he continued their previous conversation. "No, I'm not your mother, but I am a priest and it is the duty of priests to provide moral guidance. Thus when I say that you should thank her properly, I am only fulfilling my role as a priest."
"Fine," Oriole muttered. "If I see her again I will."
It wasn't very long before he had to make good on that. She walked up to them as soon as Joel settled into a spot, leaning back against the outer wall of the cabin. "Hullo!" she said, with a wave and a bright smile.
Joel returned a polite greeting.
Oriole frowned. Finally, he looked away and mumbled, "Hey, um. Thanks for the money. That was nice of you."
"Oh, it's nothin'! You're welcome." She leaned down to look at him. Being nearly six feet tall, it didn't seem as patronizing as when Zahn did it. "What's your name?"
"Oriole." He grinned and added, arrogantly, "I'm a Nenakret prodigy. You may have heard of me."
She leaned back, setting a finger to her mouth and looking up at the grey sky. "Hmm...I can't say that I have."
He hung his head with a sigh.
"My name's Victoria. It's nice to meet you, Oriole. And I already met you, Joe."
"Joel," he corrected.
"Right, Joel. Sorry. So, um, are you both comin' with us to Wey?"
Oriole realized that he had no idea what Zahn's plans were. "Um, I should ask Zahn. I'll be right back."
He ran off and left Joel and Victoria to themselves. He wasn't sure where to find Zahn, but elves in goblin masks weren't that common so he didn't think he'd have much trouble. The fact that Zahn's voice carried helped too. He heard the elf saying something about how Qiver needed to "be assertive" and "show some courage for once."
Oriole followed the obnoxiousness and found Zahn and Qiver near the boat's railing. Zahn was making some speech about stuff Oriole didn't care about and Qiver was hunched over with his mask against his hands, looking shy.
"Come on, Qiver. You have to take this chance! Your life is not long enough for you to squander opportunity like this!"
"Zaaaahn!" Oriole called out, trying to sound as much like an annoying ten-year-old as possible. "Zahn what are you doing hey I need to ask you something Zahn."
Zahn's dramatics died with a sigh. The elf turned to face him, hands on hips, the perfect picture of annoyance even without a face to show it. "There you are. What is it? Did you find the kid?"
"He said he was looking for a caravan. That's what I wanted to ask. Are we taking the caravan too?"
"Um." That pause meant Zahn hadn't even thought about it and was going to cover for it now. "Yes. You should ask him about that. Maybe see if he can get us on."
"You're just too lazy to talk to the person in charge yourself."
"I did not say that. For shame." Zahn's arms folded. "For your information, I am in the middle of something very important, and since you're free, you might as well handle it. You're not a kid, right? Then it should be easy for you."
Oriole huffed, annoyed, but couldn't argue it. He wasn't a kid, and if that was what it took to prove it to Zahn, fine.
Zahn suddenly grabbed Qiver, forcefully turning his head to look at something. "There she goes! Go, Qiver!"
"Stop it, I don't need to go!" he protested. He didn't try to pull away.
"How often do you even get the chance to chat up a girl who looks like that?"
"No! She'll say my mask is dumb and - and - !"
"Qiver, I am saying this as your friend. Don't be such a pansy."
Oriole rolled his eyes and caught sight of the girl they were talking about. A goblin. Of course. She was holding a wrench and dressed in a skintight black jumpsuit. Oriole pulled a face and walked away, leaving the goblin and the wannabe on their own.
Joel and Victoria hadn't moved, but they had both drifted to the floor instead of standing against the wall. Oriole stopped in front of them. Victoria looked up at him with an expectant smile. Joel didn't look up. He almost looked like he'd fallen asleep, curled up under his cloak with his eyes hidden by the hood.
"Do you think I can get a ride with your caravan?" Oriole asked.
"Oh, you didn't talk t' Maddie about it yet?"
"No," he muttered. "Because my friends suck."
"I'm sorry."
Joel spoke without moving. "The three of you are traveling to Wey as well, then?"
"Oh, there's three of you?" Victoria said. "I can ask Maddie for you, if you like."
Success! Mission accomplished with minimal effort. "Thanks."
The boat lurched forward. Oriole stumbled.
Joel huddled further under his cloak, lowering his head so the hood completely hid his face.
Oriole noticed. He moved to sit at Joel's side, opposite Victoria, and leaned over to try to get a look at his face. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he answered, but it sounded kind of off.
"You don' get seasick, do you?" Victoria asked.
He shook his head, very slightly.
"Or...river-sick, I guess, 'cause it's a river."
"No."
Oriole, when he tried, could recognize when people didn't want to talk about something that was bothering them. He was not always a good judge of whether or not to drop the subject when he did notice, but on rare occasions he both noticed and realized he shouldn't press.
He leaned back against the wall and stared off at the fog, trying to think of something to talk about that could get Joel's mind off of whatever bothered him. "Um...do you guys read much?" he asked, turning back to them.
Joel didn't look up as he answered. "I do."
Victoria pulled her knees up, folding her arms over them, and stared off at the fog too. "I'm not very good at it."
He stared at her. "What do you mean you're not good at it? At reading? But everyone reads."
She tilted her head, scratching idly at the tattoo on her cheek. "Not really. I mean, it isn't much use day-to-day, is it? I learned a bit on account o' my folks livin' in Almsland a few years, but I don' really use it much."
"But it's-!" He gestured widely, trying to put thoughts into words and failing. He'd lived his whole life at the Nenakret, where all the great magical minds of Threa came to learn, and the idea of people who did not read for fun was mind-boggling.
She just shrugged.
He sighed. "Fine. Okay. Do they have plays in Ligaram? Have you ever seen a play?"
"Oh sure! Lots! Like, um, Julian and Romiette!"
Joel perked up. Oriole almost didn't notice the reaction.
It meant Joel was interested. He ran with it. "Yeah, okay! Julian and Romiette, it was written by this guy named Roland Arch, back after the Gods' War ended. In, like, 4 AV or something. But it's interesting because he lived when the Molge were still alive, right? But the way he talks about the Molge in his plays is nothing like how our historical records talk about them. Don't you think that's weird?"
"I think Julian should've jus' taken Romiette and run away with her."
He folded his arms and frowned at her.
Joel picked up on Victoria's point instead of Oriole's. So much for trying to start an educated discussion. "He couldn't. Tabea would have handed Takkarav the key to Katanivka if he left, and then the Takkarav Molge would have invaded Katanivka and killed everyone he knew."
"Which one was Tabea again?" Victoria asked
"Julian's betrothed. The one who killed Marcella."
"Oh. Marcella was...um..."
"Romiette's friend."
"Oh, right!"
Oriole sighed and slouched back against the wall. At least he'd gotten Joel talking, but now he had to listen to them discuss a romance for the next fifteen minutes.
* * *
"Ugh, this is boring." Amelia, predictably, was whining. "It's too cold and wet to be sitting out here waiting on a stupid boat. And where is Joel? Did he get on? Is he coming back? I should've just gone with him."
"Would you relax, Varista?" Matt sat with his back against Yvonne, cap tilted forward so the bill covered his eyes. Yvonne had her head tucked under an arm, and Bernard had ventured out of the saddlebags to lay across Matt's shoulder. (Not his epaulet - they weren't worn with the all-weather coat.)
It was a very lazy image overall, and probably not one an ANGEL should portray. He didn't care much. He was an officer, anyway.
"We should've tried to get someone to switch with us," she muttered.
Matt glanced at her from under the bill of his cap. She was crouched, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands, looking childish and unladylike. "It wouldn't matter, since he hasn't come back," he said.
"Huhhh." She pushed herself to her feet, wrapped her arms around herself, and started pacing.
Matt pushed his cap back into its proper place, staring up at her. "Varista. Sit the hell down. Relax."
"I can't!" She stopped, whirling to face him, and threw her arms out. "In case you didn't notice, I almost died yesterday, and the guy who tried to do it is still out there somewhere!"
He sighed. As much as he wanted to be contrary purely for its own sake, she had a legitimate concern. "Sit down," he said, softer, as he sat up and straightened.
She did, taking up her previous position with her arms folded over her knees.
"You're not going to Trance, so he can't corner you alone on the Spirit Plane. And as long as you're not there, you're here. With your best friend, and somebody who's being paid to make sure you're safe. You'll be alright, Varista."
She frowned. "I know that, but it doesn't help me feel any better."
Soothing her fears was something Joel was more suited to handle. Matt's first inclination was to handle her the same way he'd handle Aristophanes, and he somehow got the feeling that acting like a huge insensitive jerk to take refuge in audacity was a bad tactic here. "Then don't think about it?" he suggested.
"I can't just not think about it!" She pushed herself to her feet, folding her arms and glaring at him. "I bet you couldn't just 'not think about it' either, if it was you."
He leaned back to look up at her. "Nah. I'd seek guidance from my patron saint, instead."
The glare faded as she blinked at him. "But I thought you weren't very religious."
He pushed himself to his feet so he could meet her eyes. "Every ANGEL has a patron saint."
"Who?"
With a very serene smile, he spread his hands and replied, "Sergeant Tramden."
"Oh, here we go," Bernard muttered.
Amelia titled her head to one side. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and gave him a look halfway between confused and incredulous. "But Tramden is-"
"A war hero." It was hard to keep the smile from his face whenever he talked about SFC Tramden. "When LaoZhen sent their entire supply of Li Heng Te super-soldiers to Arithea and captured the city and killed every single Almslander there, he was the one who survived."
From somewhere nearby, a voice called out, "Sergeant Tramden killed twelve Li Heng Te with his bare hands."
Matt motioned toward the source of the voice. That, really, was proof enough. "Sergeant Tramden's the best damn role model any ANGEL could ask for. He had training in nearly every single weapons type, and he kept picking up new ones. He was technically rifle infantry, but they made up a new certification, just for him. Weapons Master. Nowadays we call it the Tramden Badge."
Her frowned deepened as he spoke. "But... Sergeant Tramden is-"
"He's who I rely on for guidance. If I'm lost, I just ask myself...what would Sergeant Tramden do?"
"Fine." She sounded annoyed. "What would Sergeant Tramden do, then?"
"If he was being hunted by some mysterious killer?" Matt didn't even have to think about it. "Sergeant Tramden isn't the hunted or the hunter, he's death itself."
"Yeah? So what would he do?"
"Sergeant Tramden would hunt the killer down and rip his heart out with his bare hands."
She didn't look very amused. "No he wouldn't. That's ridiculous."
"That's kind of the point."
Bernard groaned. "You have no idea, lady."
Her eyes darted to Bernard, then back up to Matt's face. She set her hands on her hips. "Is that how you got famous?"
The question caught him off-guard. "What?"
"When you fought the Formicidae, were you just doing 'what Sergeant Tramden would do?'"
"Oh." He shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes turning up toward the sky. "Well, Sergeant Tramden would've torn them apart and fashioned armour out of their carapaces, so no." He shrugged. "Not quite. But close."
She folded her arms and fixed him with a flat stare.
"...What?"
"Your stupid fanboying pissed her off," said Bernard.
Her stare turned to Bernard, but she didn't reply. She turned away to look out over the water, effectively ending the conversation.
Matt sighed and sat beside Yvonne to continue waiting.
Eventually the ferry appeared through the fog and docked. Matt pulled Yvonne to her feet and they waited patiently - while Amelia waited impatiently - for the passengers from Ligarodale to disembark. The captain took up a position at the bottom of the ramp to accept fares.
Matt pulled his money chain out of his pocket, flipping through it to find the twenty-drachma pieces.
"It's twenty for the lizard, too," said the captain, holding a hand out to them.
Matt had expected as much and didn't argue as he dropped two copper coins into the captain's small green hand.
Amelia, hands buried in the ruffles of her dress where pockets must have lain, looked pleadingly to him.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not paying your fare, Varista."
"You are such a jerk," she muttered, continuing to dig through her pockets for loose coins. She even turned out the pockets of Joel's jacket to find nothing.
He left her there and took Yvonne below-decks. But...he did pause to watch from the boat, just to make sure she did eventually find the money to hand over. It wouldn't be right to abandon her, desire to notwithstanding. But she did scrounge up the coins, so he turned and led Yvonne down before Amelia could notice him waiting.
"Hah, you think you're chivalrous, that's cute," Bernard commented, as Matt went about finding a stable for his thurgia.
"I can't guard her if she's not there."
"Hmph."
"You've been quiet lately, Bernard," he said, closing the stall door on Yvonne. He reached up to scratch her crest and she contentedly jammed her nose into the crook of his neck.
"It's the broad."
"Not used to somebody else who can hear you?"
"Makes it weird. I can't make fun of you proper if there's somebody else around to hear it."
"Comforting. At least you stopped purposely goading her."
"You're doing just fine on your own."
He shrugged. "I try."
"I'm staying down here with Yvonne. She's better company. Have fun upstairs, shout if you fall overboard or anything." He flew from Matt's shoulder to Yvonne's saddle.
He stepped back, gave Yvonne's snout a pat, and then left for the upper deck to meet up with Amelia.
The first words out of her mouth were, "You ditched me!"
Matt looked at her, looked down at the deck of the ship, looked back at the cabin housing the bridge, and then looked back at her again, his eyebrows raised.
"I mean back there!" She pointed toward the dock.
"Do you honestly need me by your side at all times, Varista?"
"It's not like some crazy Wyule is trying to kill me or anything!"
"A killer who's never been seen would not risk it in the middle of a crowded city with thousands of potential witnesses."
She jammed a finger into his chest, glaring up at him. "You are not always right, Mister Richards, and one day your confidence is going to come back and bite you."
"If it does, you have every right to say you told me so, Varista."
"Oh, I will. If I'm still alive." She turned and stalked away, going to the edge of the deck and folding her arms over the railing.
Matt rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh, and went to stand nearby. He kept a few feet between them and leaned back against the railing, his elbows resting over the top rail. He was very good at casually loitering and looking bored. It was something you learned when you became an officer.
Neither of them spoke. They waited in silence as the ferry filled with passengers, and remained silent as it began its voyage across the river. The silence lasted until Matt caught sight through the fog of a familiar figure across the deck.
"Hey." He glanced at Amelia, and nodded toward the subject in question. "That's Father Ahmnratasa over there."
"What? Joel's here?" She turned to look. "He is! I guess he didn't make his trip after all, huh?"
"Guess not."
She walked past Matt, headed for the black-cloaked elf leaning over the railing on the opposite side of the ship. Matt followed her.
As they approached, he realized that Joel wasn't wearing his white and purple vestments under the cloak, but was instead dressed in simple black clothes. More suspicious than the wardrobe change was the absence of his characteristic smile. That was definitely Joel's face, though.
Amelia ran up on his left. "I was worried you wouldn't make it on!"
Joel's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He stared at her. "...What?"
"When you left! I thought maybe you'd get left behind or something. I mean, who knows with beastmen, right?"
"With...um... What...?" His tone of quiet confidence was missing too, and he sounded very confused.
Something was wrong here. Matt folded his arms, arching an eyebrow. "You are Father Ahmnratasa, right?"
His eyes went wide and darted toward Matt as he drew back, one hand coming up to his mouth. His gloves were plain, not plated. "I - I'm - how did you-"
Both Matt and Amelia stared back at him. Panic (and that was definitely panic) was something that seemed intrinsically at odds with the very concept of Joel.
"Are you feeling alright, Father?" Matt asked, more curious than concerned.
"You're not...going to...?" He seemed to relax slightly, though he still looked like a deer cornered by thurgia.
Amelia set her hands on her hips, cocking her head. "You're acting weird."
"I... I am...?"
"Did those beastmen do something to you? You just tell me and I'll make sure they-"
Matt gave her a level look. "Varista."
"Varista?" came out of Joel's mouth as a quiet breath of recognition.
That made Matt arch an eyebrow at him again.
Amelia gasped. "It's amnesia, huh? They hit you over the head and robbed you, didn't they? Do you remember who I am?"
"Um...no?" he ventured.
"They did! That's it, I'm gonna make those guys pay! Nobody gives my friends amnesia and gets away with it!"
"I don't - know what you're talking about!" His confusion turned to quiet frustration. He frowned, brow furrowed.
"Of course not, that's what amnesia does. It's okay, I'll fix this. A second blow to the head fixes amnesia, right?"
"Varista, no," Matt said. "It doesn't."
"But it does in stories!"
Joel, still looking frustrated and annoyed, turned and ran, heading for the door below-decks.
Matt started after him, eyebrows raised. This was the strangest thing he'd seen all week.
Amelia gave chase. "Wait, where are you going? Come back! I'm your friend, Amelia!"
Matt followed with a sigh.
She stopped at the door, stepping back with her hands over her nose. "Huhhh, it smells like thurgia down there."
Another sigh. "I'll go. Wait here."
"Tell him that I'm still friends with him even if he doesn't remember it!"
He stopped, half-turning back to stare at her. "Varista, I thought you were crazy, but I didn't expect you to prove it."
She huffed, setting her hands on her hips.
He turned away and headed down the stairs. She wasn't wrong. It did smell like thurgia down here. He was just so used to it that it was a comfort instead of a trigger for childhood fears.
Joel was just around the corner, standing beside another black-cloaked figure who sat with his back against the bulkhead and his arms folded over a staff. The figure was shrouded completely by the cloak, face concealed beneath the shadows of the hood.
Curious, but Matt focused on Joel for the moment. He kept watch on the cloaked man out of the corner of his eye. "Look, Father," he started, "whatever's going on here, Varista's worried about you. In her own...crazy way. I'm not going to force you or anything, but you should probably talk to her."
"Varista?" It came from the cloaked figure. The voice sounded male. "I used to know someone by that name."
Matt's eyes moved from Joel to the cloaked man. "Who are you?"
"Just a traveler, sir. You can call me Bas." His head tilted up silently and he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose with a gloved finger. "This Varista - he's not an ANGEL, is he?"
One hand strayed to the hilt of his cavalry sabre. The rifle was in much a less convenient location, strapped across his back. "No. She's a summoner."
The man's head lowered, his hand disappearing beneath the cloak again. "Varista's not a common name. His daughter?"
"I couldn't tell you, sir."
"It's fine. What did you want with my friend, here?"
Matt glanced at Joel again, who had shrunk back against the wall and was glaring suspiciously at him. "Nothing. I'm done here. I'll see you on the docks, Father."
He left. But he stopped not far around the corner and waited to listen in on whatever conversation would follow.
"I hadn't expected anybody to recognize you," the man, Bas, commented.
"He's still there," Joel muttered.
With a sigh, Matt shook his head and mentally cursed superior elven hearing. He wasn't getting any eavesdropping out of this, and he didn't think whatever he'd overhear was worth the effort it'd take to fool Joel's ears. He headed back topside to relay to Amelia what had happened.
* * *
Oriole waited. He didn't wait patiently, because that was asking for a miracle, but Joel had asked him to wait and so he waited.
He'd gotten off the ferry with Joel and Victoria, and Zahn and Qiver had found him not long after. Victoria'd offered to take them to speak with Maddie about the caravan, and Zahn had gone with her and Qiver had gone with Zahn because they never went anywhere without each other.
So Oriole and Joel had been left together. Except Joel had very politely asked him to wait there and to stop Matt or Amelia if he saw them, and then he'd left. Now Oriole was left bored and alone and kicking his feet against the crate he'd decided to use as a seat.
He wished he'd thought to grab a book from his bag before Zahn had run off with their gear, but it probably wasn't a good idea to try to read in this weather, anyway.
Amelia wasn't hard to spot. He saw her right away, thanks to her stupid ruffly summoners' clothes. At least they made her stand out.
Oriole hopped down from the crate and walked over to her.
She was with Matt, busy talking while he pretended he wasn't listening.
"Hey, Joel said to-"
Amelia whirled around and grabbed him by the lapels. "What do you know about Joel?!"
Matt face-palmed and shook his head.
Oriole stared back at her. "Uh..."
She gave him a shake.
"Stop!" He threw up his hands to knock her arms away. Glaring as he straightened out his coat, he stepped back, out of her reach. "Joel said he had to go and he said to tell you guys to wait for him."
"Go where? When did he leave? Did you see any beastmen with large blunt objects?"
"Uhh..." She was acting really weird. "Not long after we got off...?"
"You see!" She turned on Matt, sounding victorious for some reason. "He got back on, found that weird guy who said he knew my dad, and then went back across again."
"That doesn't support your amnesia theory, Varista," Matt replied flatly.
"It might!"
Oriole quirked his mouth and cocked his head. "What amnesia theory?"
They both looked at Oriole like they'd just noticed he was there.
"Joel has amnesia," Amelia replied helpfully, tapping a finger against her temple.
Oriole stared at her.
"Varista, stop." Matt's helpful explanation was actually helpful. "We saw Father Ahmnratasa on the ferry, but he wasn't acting like himself."
"Oh." Oriole considered that. "Maybe he has a twin."
Amelia sighed, rolling her eyes and setting her hands on her hips. "Don't be silly. Elves don't have twins. It's hard enough for them to even get one kid, forget about two. At once."
He frowned at her.
"Yeah." Matt sounded like he didn't want to admit he was agreeing with her. "It is a little far-fetched. The odds that Father Ahmnratasa not only has a twin, but that his twin is out here, on the same day, on the same boat as us? It's too uncanny. Something else is going on."
"Maybe there's an evil ghost out there somewhere disguising itself as Joel!"
Matt gave her a look. "And - maybe - you're crazy, Varista."
"I am not!" She punched his shoulder. "I don't see you trying to come up with anything!"
"He's your best friend. Shouldn't you know enough about him to have a reasonable theory?"
"Ugh, look! Joel doesn't talk, Matt. I mean he says a lot, but he never talks about himself. I've known him since I was born and he still doesn't open up to me about anything."
"Um..." That voice was familiar. All three of them turned to see Joel standing there. He had a very confused smile and looked like he really, really wanted to ask what they were talking about, but also really didn't.
Amelia handled the awkwardness by pretending it wasn't. "Well you don't!"
Somehow it worked. Joel just cocked his head and pretended he hadn't heard any of it. "Ah... How was your trip?"
Matt just shrugged.
Amelia pointed into Joel's face and declared, "You should know!"
Apparently that kind of behaviour was common, because he didn't even blink. Oriole was starting to understand what he'd meant when Joel said he had 'uncommon amounts of patience.' "Did the captain let you know I paid for you in advance?"
That made Matt and Amelia forget about their argument. "...No," Amelia said, lowering her arm as she straightened. "You did?"
Joel's smile fell.
Oriole instinctively backed away, ducking behind Matt's thurgia.
"What?"
Matt stared at Joel, eyes wide. "Yeah, he uh. He didn't tell us that."
"That dirty rotten thief! He robbed me! He robbed a priest of Alm!"
Oriole stayed behind the thurgia, leaning around it to see what was going on.
Matt stepped forward, reaching a hand out for Joel's shoulder. "Hey, Father-"
Joel turned back toward the docks to shout at Arch-Captain Maks in the distance. "You'll freeze in Hell, you bastard! You'll rue this day! I try to be generous and this is the thanks I get! You robbed God!"
"Joel, he can't hear you," Amelia pointed out, very calm.
"Alm's forgiveness doesn't extend to highway robbery! Enjoy your karmic retribution!"
With a sigh, Matt hooked his arms under Joel's and started dragging him away. Joel didn't struggle, but he didn't stop shouting at the captain, either.
Oriole just stared. He'd only known the guy for a day or so, but that was still the last thing he'd expected to see out of Joel.
He jumped when he heard Amelia shout, "Don't you stare at him! Priests can get mad too, it happens!" When he looked at her, he realized she was talking to the other people around them, who'd all stopped to watch.
Everyone looked away or pretended not to notice.
"Hmph." She turned around and pointed off toward where Matt was dragging Joel away. "Well go, you stupid bird. If you're so smart, follow him."
The thurgia made a sound like a songbird and ran after Matt, leaving Oriole unprotected. He adjusted his hat and looked up at Amelia, uncertain.
She sighed. "At least it's not as bad as the time he put Tommy through a wall."
Oriole's eyes went wide. "He what?"
She looked at him like she hadn't realized he was there. "Um. It's a long story. When Joel gets mad, he gets really mad."
She walked away and all he could do was stare.
FEEDBACK IS AWESOME. I would like to know:
- What you like
- What you dislike
- Whether anything pulls you out of the reading (poor phrasing, something happens that you have to stop to puzzle out, a world-specific thing is ill-defined enough to stop your reading inertia, can't tell who's speaking for a certain line or set of lines, etc)
- God do I abuse italics or what? Is it distracting or does it seem appropriate?
- Your impressions of characters as you get to know them?
- Other thoughts, comments, or concerns
Chapter 4
They finally made it to Rodale several hours after nightfall, the remainder of their trip thankfully uneventful. Once they'd lost the sun, Qiver had provided light in the form of an ambient glow centered on himself - something that was easy enough for any light-innate mage.
Matt could honestly admit that the last thing he'd ever expected to see out of the Nenakret was a light-innate goblin mage. Then Qiver started trying to see what else in the forest he could make glow. Even as mages, goblins were still goblins.
Matt finally told him to stop when he lit up an entire fir like daylight and accidentally magnetized it.
When they got into the city, their groups parted ways. Joel was relieved to see Zahn gone, which made Matt curious. He was such a calm and collected sort of person, why would being around another elf make him seem so anxious? He decided not to ask. If prior conversation was any indicator, he wouldn't get an answer anyway.
They found a room for the night and everyone was asleep within minutes. In the morning, they packed up and walked to the only public ferry in the city.
Rodale was essentially split in half by the river, south Rodale on Almsland's side and north Rodale on Ligaram's side. The north was commonly referred to as Ligarodale and served more as a service stop than a full-on city. The only way to get across the river was, of course, by taking a ferry.
Several years ago, a family of goblins had taken up residence in Rodale, bringing with them an invention they called the steam engine. Their steam-powered ferry had quickly driven all the others out of business, and the only alternative ferries were private charters mostly used for carting caravan wagons across the river. If the general public wanted to cross the Lujan, they had to use the goblins' ferry.
Unfortunately, the steam engine was just as unreliable as most experimental goblin technology.
Matt stared at the goblin standing on the dock. "What."
The goblin stood there like a four-foot tall brick wall in a blue captain's uniform and clearly repeated, "Ferry's not running today." The two red shapes serving as eyes on his otherwise completely black mask stared Matt down, daring him to argue it.
He tried not to feel intimidated. "Why not?"
"Steam engine's on the fritz-"
As if on cue there was a loud bang from the docked vessel behind the captain and a plume of black smoke rose into the air. A high-pitched, "I can fix that!" followed.
The captain didn't even bat an eye - metaphorically speaking. He just stood there, unflinching, as if this sort of thing happened all the time. It probably did. "Come back tomorrow."
Matt sighed, turned around, and herded his party away from the dock. "I guess we have a day off."
Neither Amelia nor Joel seemed to mind.
They went back to the inn and got another room for the night. Joel wanted to see if he could find any caravan runners set to leave in the immediate future, because accompanying a caravan would be much safer than the three of them going alone. Amelia insisted that it looked like rain and wouldn't let him leave without bringing his cloak along. He didn't argue.
After he left, Amelia approached Matt and cautiously asked, "Um, you know a lot about guns, right?"
He arched an eyebrow at her. "You could say that. Why?"
She pulled out her revolver, holding it gingerly between her hands. "Can you teach me how it works?"
He stared at this timid Amelia approaching him for information and wondered when she'd been replaced with some sort of well-mannered golem. His eyes fell to the weapon and he took it from her, inspecting it. Revolvers weren't terribly complicated. It'd be easy enough to explain, if she was actually able stop talking long enough to listen. "Your esteemed Uncle Esteban didn't teach you?"
"He explained it a little, but he mostly just taught me how to shoot it. I didn't really think about asking how it worked."
He swung out the cylinder and unloaded it. "Why the sudden change of heart?"
Her pause was long enough that he looked up, about to prompt her for a response. She tucked her bangs behind her ear, eyes averted. "It won't shoot on the Spirit Plane unless I know how it works."
"Ah." That was all he needed to hear. Yesterday's encounter had scared her and she wanted to put herself in control.
She'd seemed like the type of person who expected everyone to do everything for her. He thought she'd just rely on him, her escort, to protect her, or demand that Bernard guard her on the Spirit Plane. The fact that she showed some initiative and asked for help, not in getting something done but in learning how to do it herself, that gave him some respect for her.
"Well, revolvers aren't too complicated. It should be easy enough for you...to..." He sighted down the barrel and frowned. "When's the last time you cleaned this thing?"
"Umm..." She grinned sheepishly and looked away.
He sighed. Respect significantly diminished. He handed back the gun and the bullets and went to retrieve his cleaning kit.
* * *
"Hey." Zahn tugged on Oriole's sleeve, nearly making him spill hot soup all over himself.
"Ah! What!" He lowered the bowl to the table, glaring at Zahn.
"That's the priest over there, isn't it?" Zahn pointed to a table in the shadowy corner of the tavern where a blond elf sat with a cloaked figure.
Oriole frowned, craning his head to look.
"Don't look!" Zahn hissed, grabbing his head and turning it back toward the table.
"But you just-"
Zahn leaned in, a finger set against the mask's painted-on grin. "Shhhh."
Oriole was not amused.
Qiver, across the table from Zahn and Oriole, said, "It looks like him."
"He's dressed different, though." In his brief glimpse, Oriole had at least been able to see that. The elf was wearing a black cloak and wasn't dressed like a priest. "And all elves look the same, anyway."
Zahn leaned back, somehow managing to look offended even though Oriole couldn't see the face under that mask. "We do not!"
"How would you know?" Oriole asked, mockingly. "You're a goblin."
"Yeah. A really tall, elven one."
"Then you know all elves look the same."
"You are too smart-ass to seriously only be ten years old."
He smiled proudly. "I am a prodigy."
With a shake of the head, Zahn glanced back at the elf. "It's definitely him, though. Who's he with? Richards and the summoner didn't look like the sort of people who'd be big on the all-concealing cloak look."
"It's not that weird. It's raining."
"Maybe you should-"
"No!" He slammed his fist down on the table, pointing up into Zahn's mask. "No, don't you even! Don't say it!"
"Use that-"
"No, stop! Just stop!"
"Trustworthy face," Qiver finished, in Zahn's place.
Oriole groaned and thumped his elbows down on the table, setting his face in his hands.
Zahn reached out to pat his shoulder. "It's a burden, having such a trustworthy face, I know."
"I hate you." He glared up at Zahn. "And how would you know what a trustworthy face looks like, anyway! You're a goblin!"
"Oh yeah..." Zahn's head tilted back, hand going to the mask the same way people set their fingers over their mouths to look thoughtful. "I don't even have a face."
Oriole's glare became dismay. "You what?"
Zahn shrugged. It was very exaggerated, like everything Zahn did. "It's goblin culture, you know? No faces. Just masks."
Qiver nodded his agreement.
"Oh." Oriole felt a little let down. He'd expected some horrible story about Zahn's face being burned off in an accident or something. It'd explain the stupid goblin imitation a lot better. "That's dumb."
"It's not dumb!" Qiver climbed to his feet on his chair, tiny hands slamming down on the table. "Goblins are the only people civilized enough-"
"Hey, hey, cool it," Zahn interrupted. "Think you can follow them, Oriole?"
"Wh...what?" Oriole looked from Qiver, who quietly sat down at Zahn's request, to Zahn, who was looking backward toward the table where the elf and the cloaked figure were getting up to leave. "Why?"
"Because I'm curious."
"But I'm eating! If you're curious, you can follow them!"
Zahn let out a heavy sigh and followed the sight of the two leaving the tavern. "Ah, well, I think we're all taking the ferry tomorrow anyway. You can ask him then."
"Why me?!"
"Because you're the one with the-"
"Augh! Never mind!"
* * *
By morning the rain had subsided to a miserable drizzle and the city was coated in a heavy fog. The ferry was running again despite this, the crew's engineer assuring everyone that the weather was not a problem now that the steam engine was working properly.
What was a problem was that stopping the ferry for a full day had left a lot of people stranded on one side or the other, and now they were all trying to get across. The captain had organized a line and was going down, counting off passengers for the next few trips.
It was in this line that Matt and his companions stood, unfortunately not as far toward the front as he would have liked.
To combat the weather, Matt had thrown his white coat over the rest of his uniform. His non-standard-issue leather coat. What Sterling didn't know couldn't hurt Matt.
Over his senior priest uniform, Joel wore the same black cloak he'd been forced to take out the day before.
Amelia had been stuck suffering through the drizzle in just her sweater, which made Matt ask why her esteemed Uncle Esteban hadn't given her a fancy coat to go along with everything else. She wailed, "I lost it!" He dropped it at that.
Joel had shoved his coat at her, whether out of genuine concern or to make her stop whining, Matt couldn't tell. The coat was slightly small on her, because she had a couple inches on Joel, but she seemed satisfied. As long as she wasn't complaining, so was Matt.
Last night, Joel had managed to find them a caravan heading for Wey, leaving as soon as its leader could get back across the river to the rest of her crew. That was convenient. Since Ligaram consisted largely of wide open spaces with villages scattered few and far between the three major city-states, there was an awful lot of wild land for bandits to call their own. Thus most who traveled there sought the safety of numbers, and caravans were common enough that you usually didn't have to wait more than a week to find one going your way. Still, to find one that was headed out the same day they were was quite a stroke of luck.
The goblin captain reached them and stopped, directing his creepy black mask with its red eyes up at Joel. "You're last on." He pointed to Amelia. "You're first on." His finger moved to Matt. "Your lizard goes on the lower deck."
"Roger that," Matt replied, but he was interrupted by Amelia's, "Wait, you can't split us up!"
"It'll be fine, Amelia," Joel said. Mostly because the captain was walking away without bothering to reply.
She frowned, gaze falling as she shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe we should just come back in the afternoon," she said, more to herself than anyone else.
"The caravan will have left by then," Joel replied. "Which would be terribly inconvenient for us."
She pouted, but didn't argue.
They remained silent through the first boarding, and through the line's movement to catch up to the dock. Something about the miserable weather discouraged chatter.
The silence was broken by a beastman who approached them from the direction of the line's front. She had the vaguely wolfish face of a Ramur - the type most people considered the "default" beastman.
Her clothes did not cover nearly as much as they should have (which by Almsland's standards was "everything") and her well-defined muscles were visible even beneath her red fur. She was better built than some ANGELs. Matt did not doubt that this girl could fight.
But that sparse clothing meant she wasn't dressed for the weather. She smelled like wet dog. Amelia wrinkled her nose.
She stopped in front of Joel, who looked back attentively. "You're, um..." Her head cocked and a multitude of tiny braids swung behind her. "Joe, was it?" Her Ligaram accent was subdued but obvious, somewhere between the extremes of Wey's prim and proper and Guram's harsh and thuggish.
"Joel," he corrected politely.
"Right, Joel. Um, Maddie wanted t' talk with you, if that's alright?"
"Maddie?" Amelia questioned.
Joel ignored her to ask, "Right now?"
"Um..." The Ramur scratched at her cheek, fingers brushing the green tattoo under her right eye. "Yeah?"
Joel turned to Amelia to explain, "Maddie is the woman I spoke with in charge of the caravan. If I don't return, we should wait for each other on the other side."
"Roger," Matt replied.
"Wait!" Amelia protested. "I'll go with-"
"Just let him go, Varista. He'll be fine."
She pouted again, stepping back and wrapping her arms around herself.
The Ramur gave a shrug and an apologetic smile and led Joel away.
* * *
"Oh my god, stop staring!" Oriole shouted, throwing up his hands.
Zahn, looking lovestruck, continued staring. Oriole didn't need to see the eyes under that mask to know that they were focused on the steamboat's captain. "But Arch-Captain Maks is so dashing, don't you think?"
"No, that's gross."
"That uniform looks so good on him..."
"Ugh! I didn't know you were a girl."
That made Zahn turn to him, hands on hips. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Um, that you act like a girl?"
"For your information," Zahn said haughtily, hand over chest, "I am not a boy or a girl. I am a Nagan. An it."
"You should know this," Qiver piped up.
"You should know this," Zahn agreed. "How long have you known me?"
"Um, not very? It's not like I hung around you a lot before we got sent out together." Oriole folded his arms. "And anyway, that's weird. You can't be an 'it.' It doesn't work that way."
Zahn leaned down to pat him on the head. Zahn was only an inch or so taller, which made it even more insulting. "It's so cute how you think you know everything."
Oriole grunted, pulling away and tugging down on the brim of his hat.
"You can make it up to me by finding that kid and asking what he was up to yesterday."
"Oh come on!"
"Or do you want to spend some more time telling somebody thirty times your age about the nature of the universe, first?"
Oriole glowered.
"If you go, I won't make any 'trustworthy face' comments for a day."
He sighed and walked off to find Joel.
Mostly, he just wandered down the line for a while. His plan was to waste some time and then go back and claim he couldn't find him.
Unfortunately for his plan, Oriole did find him. He knew it was Joel because he was wearing his priest uniform under his cloak. Otherwise, well, Oriole had only been half-joking when he said all elves looked the same.
Joel was talking to a big grey-striped Gura woman. Oriole hung back and waited for them to finish talking. It sounded like boring business stuff; he didn't really pay attention. Instead, he stared at the Ramur girl standing next to the Gura. The symbol tattooed on her stomach was one he'd seen before.
He realized the conversation was over when Joel ended it with a polite bow. Oriole ran over before he could take two steps away. "Hey, I saw you yesterday!" he said, putting on his best cheerful kid act.
Joel stopped, looking back at him with a polite smile. "Oh?"
"Yeah, at the tavern. I was wondering why you weren't with your friends."
"Ah..." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Yesterday I spent an appreciable amount of time seeking out a caravan that would take us to Wey. I suppose you must have seen me then."
"Oh." Was that it? Zahn was thinking too hard. The cloaked person he'd been with didn't look big enough to be a Gura, but he'd probably had to talk to a lot of people before he found somebody. That wasn't weird at all.
Now Oriole felt like he'd come all this way for nothing - not that it had been very far.
As long as he was here, he might as well ask some other things. "Hey, um, so Zahn keeps wondering why you're not in Sureloum."
Joel's eyes narrowed, but his smile didn't change. "If the Nagan is curious about me, it can ask me itself."
Oriole dropped the cheerful act now that he'd gotten Zahn's questions asked. No need to put on a show when he didn't need anything. "Okay, I'll tell him you said that. He's pretty annoying though, just so you know."
"Mm. I have uncommon amounts of patience."
"Sure, that's an elf thing, right? 'Cause you guys live so long."
"That isn't quite what I meant, but I suppose that's true."
"You know, Zahn keeps saying it's weird that you're a priest, 'cause you're so young, but I get it." He smiled, cocky and smug. "You're a child prodigy, right? Like me."
Joel looked at Oriole like he'd only just noticed him. His smile softened into something very genuine. Not that his usual smile didn't look genuine, but it just seemed...deeper somehow. "Maybe." He sounded amused. "I'd never thought of it that way. I've lived among humans for several decades. I've come to see time the way they do, and by their standards I am very much no longer a child."
"Well, when Zahn asks you about that stuff, you can just tell him that."
"Perhaps I shall."
Before either of them could continue, the Ramur girl called out from behind them, "Oi, Joe, you comin'?"
"It's Joel," he called back as he turned toward her.
Oriole looked too and saw the line moving. That meant Qiver and Zahn were going to be getting on, which meant he should be too. "Oh, I should go," he said, stepping away from Joel.
Joel glanced back toward the end of the line. His own group was probably down there. The girl called out again, "Oi! Are you in this group? You should jus' come with us if you are!"
He sighed and turned toward the dock, hesitating for a second before following.
Oriole fell into step beside him. "She's kind of bossy, huh?"
"Insistent perhaps, but I wouldn't go so far as bossy. It's alright. Girls can be that way at her age."
"Zahn's that way, but I don't think he's a girl her age."
That got a chuckle out of Joel, but he quickly covered it up with the back of his hand.
"It's okay, you can laugh. I'm funny."
"Humour notwithstanding, it's impolite to laugh at the expense of others."
Arch-Captain Maks was standing at the bottom of the ramp, taking fares. Oriole dug through his pockets, trying to find twenty drachma. Zahn had most of their Almsland money - Oriole was only carrying Nenakret gold, and they didn't take that here.
The girl with the braids smiled brightly and offered him a few coins. "Here, fifteen lira'll get you across."
He blinked at her. And then he took the money. Belatedly a, "Thank you," followed.
Oriole had never seen lira before, but he knew it was what Ligaram used as money. Since the ferry went to both sides of the river, it made sense that they'd take Ligaram money and Almsland money.
"That was kind of her," Joel said, as she paid her own fare and walked up the ramp onto the ferry. "You should thank her properly. Not everyone is willing to be so generous."
"You're not my mom," Oriole muttered, passing the money off to the goblin.
He took Oriole's money, and then looked up at Joel and said, "You're last on."
"My companions are aware of that, captain. Your numbers are fine."
"Arch-Captain." He held a hand out.
"Arch-Captain. My apologies."
Oriole waited while Joel pulled out his money chain. Money chains were a new concept for him. Almsland drachma was made with a hole in the middle, and Almslanders strung coins together on chains instead of keeping them in coin-purses or their pockets. It was kind of a neat idea.
Joel slid three coins off the chain and dropped them into the captain's outstretched hand. "Pay in advance for my companions. They will, of course, be the first in line when you return to this side of the river."
"Of course."
He led Oriole up the ramp as he continued their previous conversation. "No, I'm not your mother, but I am a priest and it is the duty of priests to provide moral guidance. Thus when I say that you should thank her properly, I am only fulfilling my role as a priest."
"Fine," Oriole muttered. "If I see her again I will."
It wasn't very long before he had to make good on that. She walked up to them as soon as Joel settled into a spot, leaning back against the outer wall of the cabin. "Hullo!" she said, with a wave and a bright smile.
Joel returned a polite greeting.
Oriole frowned. Finally, he looked away and mumbled, "Hey, um. Thanks for the money. That was nice of you."
"Oh, it's nothin'! You're welcome." She leaned down to look at him. Being nearly six feet tall, it didn't seem as patronizing as when Zahn did it. "What's your name?"
"Oriole." He grinned and added, arrogantly, "I'm a Nenakret prodigy. You may have heard of me."
She leaned back, setting a finger to her mouth and looking up at the grey sky. "Hmm...I can't say that I have."
He hung his head with a sigh.
"My name's Victoria. It's nice to meet you, Oriole. And I already met you, Joe."
"Joel," he corrected.
"Right, Joel. Sorry. So, um, are you both comin' with us to Wey?"
Oriole realized that he had no idea what Zahn's plans were. "Um, I should ask Zahn. I'll be right back."
He ran off and left Joel and Victoria to themselves. He wasn't sure where to find Zahn, but elves in goblin masks weren't that common so he didn't think he'd have much trouble. The fact that Zahn's voice carried helped too. He heard the elf saying something about how Qiver needed to "be assertive" and "show some courage for once."
Oriole followed the obnoxiousness and found Zahn and Qiver near the boat's railing. Zahn was making some speech about stuff Oriole didn't care about and Qiver was hunched over with his mask against his hands, looking shy.
"Come on, Qiver. You have to take this chance! Your life is not long enough for you to squander opportunity like this!"
"Zaaaahn!" Oriole called out, trying to sound as much like an annoying ten-year-old as possible. "Zahn what are you doing hey I need to ask you something Zahn."
Zahn's dramatics died with a sigh. The elf turned to face him, hands on hips, the perfect picture of annoyance even without a face to show it. "There you are. What is it? Did you find the kid?"
"He said he was looking for a caravan. That's what I wanted to ask. Are we taking the caravan too?"
"Um." That pause meant Zahn hadn't even thought about it and was going to cover for it now. "Yes. You should ask him about that. Maybe see if he can get us on."
"You're just too lazy to talk to the person in charge yourself."
"I did not say that. For shame." Zahn's arms folded. "For your information, I am in the middle of something very important, and since you're free, you might as well handle it. You're not a kid, right? Then it should be easy for you."
Oriole huffed, annoyed, but couldn't argue it. He wasn't a kid, and if that was what it took to prove it to Zahn, fine.
Zahn suddenly grabbed Qiver, forcefully turning his head to look at something. "There she goes! Go, Qiver!"
"Stop it, I don't need to go!" he protested. He didn't try to pull away.
"How often do you even get the chance to chat up a girl who looks like that?"
"No! She'll say my mask is dumb and - and - !"
"Qiver, I am saying this as your friend. Don't be such a pansy."
Oriole rolled his eyes and caught sight of the girl they were talking about. A goblin. Of course. She was holding a wrench and dressed in a skintight black jumpsuit. Oriole pulled a face and walked away, leaving the goblin and the wannabe on their own.
Joel and Victoria hadn't moved, but they had both drifted to the floor instead of standing against the wall. Oriole stopped in front of them. Victoria looked up at him with an expectant smile. Joel didn't look up. He almost looked like he'd fallen asleep, curled up under his cloak with his eyes hidden by the hood.
"Do you think I can get a ride with your caravan?" Oriole asked.
"Oh, you didn't talk t' Maddie about it yet?"
"No," he muttered. "Because my friends suck."
"I'm sorry."
Joel spoke without moving. "The three of you are traveling to Wey as well, then?"
"Oh, there's three of you?" Victoria said. "I can ask Maddie for you, if you like."
Success! Mission accomplished with minimal effort. "Thanks."
The boat lurched forward. Oriole stumbled.
Joel huddled further under his cloak, lowering his head so the hood completely hid his face.
Oriole noticed. He moved to sit at Joel's side, opposite Victoria, and leaned over to try to get a look at his face. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he answered, but it sounded kind of off.
"You don' get seasick, do you?" Victoria asked.
He shook his head, very slightly.
"Or...river-sick, I guess, 'cause it's a river."
"No."
Oriole, when he tried, could recognize when people didn't want to talk about something that was bothering them. He was not always a good judge of whether or not to drop the subject when he did notice, but on rare occasions he both noticed and realized he shouldn't press.
He leaned back against the wall and stared off at the fog, trying to think of something to talk about that could get Joel's mind off of whatever bothered him. "Um...do you guys read much?" he asked, turning back to them.
Joel didn't look up as he answered. "I do."
Victoria pulled her knees up, folding her arms over them, and stared off at the fog too. "I'm not very good at it."
He stared at her. "What do you mean you're not good at it? At reading? But everyone reads."
She tilted her head, scratching idly at the tattoo on her cheek. "Not really. I mean, it isn't much use day-to-day, is it? I learned a bit on account o' my folks livin' in Almsland a few years, but I don' really use it much."
"But it's-!" He gestured widely, trying to put thoughts into words and failing. He'd lived his whole life at the Nenakret, where all the great magical minds of Threa came to learn, and the idea of people who did not read for fun was mind-boggling.
She just shrugged.
He sighed. "Fine. Okay. Do they have plays in Ligaram? Have you ever seen a play?"
"Oh sure! Lots! Like, um, Julian and Romiette!"
Joel perked up. Oriole almost didn't notice the reaction.
It meant Joel was interested. He ran with it. "Yeah, okay! Julian and Romiette, it was written by this guy named Roland Arch, back after the Gods' War ended. In, like, 4 AV or something. But it's interesting because he lived when the Molge were still alive, right? But the way he talks about the Molge in his plays is nothing like how our historical records talk about them. Don't you think that's weird?"
"I think Julian should've jus' taken Romiette and run away with her."
He folded his arms and frowned at her.
Joel picked up on Victoria's point instead of Oriole's. So much for trying to start an educated discussion. "He couldn't. Tabea would have handed Takkarav the key to Katanivka if he left, and then the Takkarav Molge would have invaded Katanivka and killed everyone he knew."
"Which one was Tabea again?" Victoria asked
"Julian's betrothed. The one who killed Marcella."
"Oh. Marcella was...um..."
"Romiette's friend."
"Oh, right!"
Oriole sighed and slouched back against the wall. At least he'd gotten Joel talking, but now he had to listen to them discuss a romance for the next fifteen minutes.
* * *
"Ugh, this is boring." Amelia, predictably, was whining. "It's too cold and wet to be sitting out here waiting on a stupid boat. And where is Joel? Did he get on? Is he coming back? I should've just gone with him."
"Would you relax, Varista?" Matt sat with his back against Yvonne, cap tilted forward so the bill covered his eyes. Yvonne had her head tucked under an arm, and Bernard had ventured out of the saddlebags to lay across Matt's shoulder. (Not his epaulet - they weren't worn with the all-weather coat.)
It was a very lazy image overall, and probably not one an ANGEL should portray. He didn't care much. He was an officer, anyway.
"We should've tried to get someone to switch with us," she muttered.
Matt glanced at her from under the bill of his cap. She was crouched, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands, looking childish and unladylike. "It wouldn't matter, since he hasn't come back," he said.
"Huhhh." She pushed herself to her feet, wrapped her arms around herself, and started pacing.
Matt pushed his cap back into its proper place, staring up at her. "Varista. Sit the hell down. Relax."
"I can't!" She stopped, whirling to face him, and threw her arms out. "In case you didn't notice, I almost died yesterday, and the guy who tried to do it is still out there somewhere!"
He sighed. As much as he wanted to be contrary purely for its own sake, she had a legitimate concern. "Sit down," he said, softer, as he sat up and straightened.
She did, taking up her previous position with her arms folded over her knees.
"You're not going to Trance, so he can't corner you alone on the Spirit Plane. And as long as you're not there, you're here. With your best friend, and somebody who's being paid to make sure you're safe. You'll be alright, Varista."
She frowned. "I know that, but it doesn't help me feel any better."
Soothing her fears was something Joel was more suited to handle. Matt's first inclination was to handle her the same way he'd handle Aristophanes, and he somehow got the feeling that acting like a huge insensitive jerk to take refuge in audacity was a bad tactic here. "Then don't think about it?" he suggested.
"I can't just not think about it!" She pushed herself to her feet, folding her arms and glaring at him. "I bet you couldn't just 'not think about it' either, if it was you."
He leaned back to look up at her. "Nah. I'd seek guidance from my patron saint, instead."
The glare faded as she blinked at him. "But I thought you weren't very religious."
He pushed himself to his feet so he could meet her eyes. "Every ANGEL has a patron saint."
"Who?"
With a very serene smile, he spread his hands and replied, "Sergeant Tramden."
"Oh, here we go," Bernard muttered.
Amelia titled her head to one side. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and gave him a look halfway between confused and incredulous. "But Tramden is-"
"A war hero." It was hard to keep the smile from his face whenever he talked about SFC Tramden. "When LaoZhen sent their entire supply of Li Heng Te super-soldiers to Arithea and captured the city and killed every single Almslander there, he was the one who survived."
From somewhere nearby, a voice called out, "Sergeant Tramden killed twelve Li Heng Te with his bare hands."
Matt motioned toward the source of the voice. That, really, was proof enough. "Sergeant Tramden's the best damn role model any ANGEL could ask for. He had training in nearly every single weapons type, and he kept picking up new ones. He was technically rifle infantry, but they made up a new certification, just for him. Weapons Master. Nowadays we call it the Tramden Badge."
Her frowned deepened as he spoke. "But... Sergeant Tramden is-"
"He's who I rely on for guidance. If I'm lost, I just ask myself...what would Sergeant Tramden do?"
"Fine." She sounded annoyed. "What would Sergeant Tramden do, then?"
"If he was being hunted by some mysterious killer?" Matt didn't even have to think about it. "Sergeant Tramden isn't the hunted or the hunter, he's death itself."
"Yeah? So what would he do?"
"Sergeant Tramden would hunt the killer down and rip his heart out with his bare hands."
She didn't look very amused. "No he wouldn't. That's ridiculous."
"That's kind of the point."
Bernard groaned. "You have no idea, lady."
Her eyes darted to Bernard, then back up to Matt's face. She set her hands on her hips. "Is that how you got famous?"
The question caught him off-guard. "What?"
"When you fought the Formicidae, were you just doing 'what Sergeant Tramden would do?'"
"Oh." He shoved his hands in his pockets, eyes turning up toward the sky. "Well, Sergeant Tramden would've torn them apart and fashioned armour out of their carapaces, so no." He shrugged. "Not quite. But close."
She folded her arms and fixed him with a flat stare.
"...What?"
"Your stupid fanboying pissed her off," said Bernard.
Her stare turned to Bernard, but she didn't reply. She turned away to look out over the water, effectively ending the conversation.
Matt sighed and sat beside Yvonne to continue waiting.
Eventually the ferry appeared through the fog and docked. Matt pulled Yvonne to her feet and they waited patiently - while Amelia waited impatiently - for the passengers from Ligarodale to disembark. The captain took up a position at the bottom of the ramp to accept fares.
Matt pulled his money chain out of his pocket, flipping through it to find the twenty-drachma pieces.
"It's twenty for the lizard, too," said the captain, holding a hand out to them.
Matt had expected as much and didn't argue as he dropped two copper coins into the captain's small green hand.
Amelia, hands buried in the ruffles of her dress where pockets must have lain, looked pleadingly to him.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not paying your fare, Varista."
"You are such a jerk," she muttered, continuing to dig through her pockets for loose coins. She even turned out the pockets of Joel's jacket to find nothing.
He left her there and took Yvonne below-decks. But...he did pause to watch from the boat, just to make sure she did eventually find the money to hand over. It wouldn't be right to abandon her, desire to notwithstanding. But she did scrounge up the coins, so he turned and led Yvonne down before Amelia could notice him waiting.
"Hah, you think you're chivalrous, that's cute," Bernard commented, as Matt went about finding a stable for his thurgia.
"I can't guard her if she's not there."
"Hmph."
"You've been quiet lately, Bernard," he said, closing the stall door on Yvonne. He reached up to scratch her crest and she contentedly jammed her nose into the crook of his neck.
"It's the broad."
"Not used to somebody else who can hear you?"
"Makes it weird. I can't make fun of you proper if there's somebody else around to hear it."
"Comforting. At least you stopped purposely goading her."
"You're doing just fine on your own."
He shrugged. "I try."
"I'm staying down here with Yvonne. She's better company. Have fun upstairs, shout if you fall overboard or anything." He flew from Matt's shoulder to Yvonne's saddle.
He stepped back, gave Yvonne's snout a pat, and then left for the upper deck to meet up with Amelia.
The first words out of her mouth were, "You ditched me!"
Matt looked at her, looked down at the deck of the ship, looked back at the cabin housing the bridge, and then looked back at her again, his eyebrows raised.
"I mean back there!" She pointed toward the dock.
"Do you honestly need me by your side at all times, Varista?"
"It's not like some crazy Wyule is trying to kill me or anything!"
"A killer who's never been seen would not risk it in the middle of a crowded city with thousands of potential witnesses."
She jammed a finger into his chest, glaring up at him. "You are not always right, Mister Richards, and one day your confidence is going to come back and bite you."
"If it does, you have every right to say you told me so, Varista."
"Oh, I will. If I'm still alive." She turned and stalked away, going to the edge of the deck and folding her arms over the railing.
Matt rolled his eyes, heaving a sigh, and went to stand nearby. He kept a few feet between them and leaned back against the railing, his elbows resting over the top rail. He was very good at casually loitering and looking bored. It was something you learned when you became an officer.
Neither of them spoke. They waited in silence as the ferry filled with passengers, and remained silent as it began its voyage across the river. The silence lasted until Matt caught sight through the fog of a familiar figure across the deck.
"Hey." He glanced at Amelia, and nodded toward the subject in question. "That's Father Ahmnratasa over there."
"What? Joel's here?" She turned to look. "He is! I guess he didn't make his trip after all, huh?"
"Guess not."
She walked past Matt, headed for the black-cloaked elf leaning over the railing on the opposite side of the ship. Matt followed her.
As they approached, he realized that Joel wasn't wearing his white and purple vestments under the cloak, but was instead dressed in simple black clothes. More suspicious than the wardrobe change was the absence of his characteristic smile. That was definitely Joel's face, though.
Amelia ran up on his left. "I was worried you wouldn't make it on!"
Joel's head snapped up at the sound of her voice. He stared at her. "...What?"
"When you left! I thought maybe you'd get left behind or something. I mean, who knows with beastmen, right?"
"With...um... What...?" His tone of quiet confidence was missing too, and he sounded very confused.
Something was wrong here. Matt folded his arms, arching an eyebrow. "You are Father Ahmnratasa, right?"
His eyes went wide and darted toward Matt as he drew back, one hand coming up to his mouth. His gloves were plain, not plated. "I - I'm - how did you-"
Both Matt and Amelia stared back at him. Panic (and that was definitely panic) was something that seemed intrinsically at odds with the very concept of Joel.
"Are you feeling alright, Father?" Matt asked, more curious than concerned.
"You're not...going to...?" He seemed to relax slightly, though he still looked like a deer cornered by thurgia.
Amelia set her hands on her hips, cocking her head. "You're acting weird."
"I... I am...?"
"Did those beastmen do something to you? You just tell me and I'll make sure they-"
Matt gave her a level look. "Varista."
"Varista?" came out of Joel's mouth as a quiet breath of recognition.
That made Matt arch an eyebrow at him again.
Amelia gasped. "It's amnesia, huh? They hit you over the head and robbed you, didn't they? Do you remember who I am?"
"Um...no?" he ventured.
"They did! That's it, I'm gonna make those guys pay! Nobody gives my friends amnesia and gets away with it!"
"I don't - know what you're talking about!" His confusion turned to quiet frustration. He frowned, brow furrowed.
"Of course not, that's what amnesia does. It's okay, I'll fix this. A second blow to the head fixes amnesia, right?"
"Varista, no," Matt said. "It doesn't."
"But it does in stories!"
Joel, still looking frustrated and annoyed, turned and ran, heading for the door below-decks.
Matt started after him, eyebrows raised. This was the strangest thing he'd seen all week.
Amelia gave chase. "Wait, where are you going? Come back! I'm your friend, Amelia!"
Matt followed with a sigh.
She stopped at the door, stepping back with her hands over her nose. "Huhhh, it smells like thurgia down there."
Another sigh. "I'll go. Wait here."
"Tell him that I'm still friends with him even if he doesn't remember it!"
He stopped, half-turning back to stare at her. "Varista, I thought you were crazy, but I didn't expect you to prove it."
She huffed, setting her hands on her hips.
He turned away and headed down the stairs. She wasn't wrong. It did smell like thurgia down here. He was just so used to it that it was a comfort instead of a trigger for childhood fears.
Joel was just around the corner, standing beside another black-cloaked figure who sat with his back against the bulkhead and his arms folded over a staff. The figure was shrouded completely by the cloak, face concealed beneath the shadows of the hood.
Curious, but Matt focused on Joel for the moment. He kept watch on the cloaked man out of the corner of his eye. "Look, Father," he started, "whatever's going on here, Varista's worried about you. In her own...crazy way. I'm not going to force you or anything, but you should probably talk to her."
"Varista?" It came from the cloaked figure. The voice sounded male. "I used to know someone by that name."
Matt's eyes moved from Joel to the cloaked man. "Who are you?"
"Just a traveler, sir. You can call me Bas." His head tilted up silently and he reached up to rub the bridge of his nose with a gloved finger. "This Varista - he's not an ANGEL, is he?"
One hand strayed to the hilt of his cavalry sabre. The rifle was in much a less convenient location, strapped across his back. "No. She's a summoner."
The man's head lowered, his hand disappearing beneath the cloak again. "Varista's not a common name. His daughter?"
"I couldn't tell you, sir."
"It's fine. What did you want with my friend, here?"
Matt glanced at Joel again, who had shrunk back against the wall and was glaring suspiciously at him. "Nothing. I'm done here. I'll see you on the docks, Father."
He left. But he stopped not far around the corner and waited to listen in on whatever conversation would follow.
"I hadn't expected anybody to recognize you," the man, Bas, commented.
"He's still there," Joel muttered.
With a sigh, Matt shook his head and mentally cursed superior elven hearing. He wasn't getting any eavesdropping out of this, and he didn't think whatever he'd overhear was worth the effort it'd take to fool Joel's ears. He headed back topside to relay to Amelia what had happened.
* * *
Oriole waited. He didn't wait patiently, because that was asking for a miracle, but Joel had asked him to wait and so he waited.
He'd gotten off the ferry with Joel and Victoria, and Zahn and Qiver had found him not long after. Victoria'd offered to take them to speak with Maddie about the caravan, and Zahn had gone with her and Qiver had gone with Zahn because they never went anywhere without each other.
So Oriole and Joel had been left together. Except Joel had very politely asked him to wait there and to stop Matt or Amelia if he saw them, and then he'd left. Now Oriole was left bored and alone and kicking his feet against the crate he'd decided to use as a seat.
He wished he'd thought to grab a book from his bag before Zahn had run off with their gear, but it probably wasn't a good idea to try to read in this weather, anyway.
Amelia wasn't hard to spot. He saw her right away, thanks to her stupid ruffly summoners' clothes. At least they made her stand out.
Oriole hopped down from the crate and walked over to her.
She was with Matt, busy talking while he pretended he wasn't listening.
"Hey, Joel said to-"
Amelia whirled around and grabbed him by the lapels. "What do you know about Joel?!"
Matt face-palmed and shook his head.
Oriole stared back at her. "Uh..."
She gave him a shake.
"Stop!" He threw up his hands to knock her arms away. Glaring as he straightened out his coat, he stepped back, out of her reach. "Joel said he had to go and he said to tell you guys to wait for him."
"Go where? When did he leave? Did you see any beastmen with large blunt objects?"
"Uhh..." She was acting really weird. "Not long after we got off...?"
"You see!" She turned on Matt, sounding victorious for some reason. "He got back on, found that weird guy who said he knew my dad, and then went back across again."
"That doesn't support your amnesia theory, Varista," Matt replied flatly.
"It might!"
Oriole quirked his mouth and cocked his head. "What amnesia theory?"
They both looked at Oriole like they'd just noticed he was there.
"Joel has amnesia," Amelia replied helpfully, tapping a finger against her temple.
Oriole stared at her.
"Varista, stop." Matt's helpful explanation was actually helpful. "We saw Father Ahmnratasa on the ferry, but he wasn't acting like himself."
"Oh." Oriole considered that. "Maybe he has a twin."
Amelia sighed, rolling her eyes and setting her hands on her hips. "Don't be silly. Elves don't have twins. It's hard enough for them to even get one kid, forget about two. At once."
He frowned at her.
"Yeah." Matt sounded like he didn't want to admit he was agreeing with her. "It is a little far-fetched. The odds that Father Ahmnratasa not only has a twin, but that his twin is out here, on the same day, on the same boat as us? It's too uncanny. Something else is going on."
"Maybe there's an evil ghost out there somewhere disguising itself as Joel!"
Matt gave her a look. "And - maybe - you're crazy, Varista."
"I am not!" She punched his shoulder. "I don't see you trying to come up with anything!"
"He's your best friend. Shouldn't you know enough about him to have a reasonable theory?"
"Ugh, look! Joel doesn't talk, Matt. I mean he says a lot, but he never talks about himself. I've known him since I was born and he still doesn't open up to me about anything."
"Um..." That voice was familiar. All three of them turned to see Joel standing there. He had a very confused smile and looked like he really, really wanted to ask what they were talking about, but also really didn't.
Amelia handled the awkwardness by pretending it wasn't. "Well you don't!"
Somehow it worked. Joel just cocked his head and pretended he hadn't heard any of it. "Ah... How was your trip?"
Matt just shrugged.
Amelia pointed into Joel's face and declared, "You should know!"
Apparently that kind of behaviour was common, because he didn't even blink. Oriole was starting to understand what he'd meant when Joel said he had 'uncommon amounts of patience.' "Did the captain let you know I paid for you in advance?"
That made Matt and Amelia forget about their argument. "...No," Amelia said, lowering her arm as she straightened. "You did?"
Joel's smile fell.
Oriole instinctively backed away, ducking behind Matt's thurgia.
"What?"
Matt stared at Joel, eyes wide. "Yeah, he uh. He didn't tell us that."
"That dirty rotten thief! He robbed me! He robbed a priest of Alm!"
Oriole stayed behind the thurgia, leaning around it to see what was going on.
Matt stepped forward, reaching a hand out for Joel's shoulder. "Hey, Father-"
Joel turned back toward the docks to shout at Arch-Captain Maks in the distance. "You'll freeze in Hell, you bastard! You'll rue this day! I try to be generous and this is the thanks I get! You robbed God!"
"Joel, he can't hear you," Amelia pointed out, very calm.
"Alm's forgiveness doesn't extend to highway robbery! Enjoy your karmic retribution!"
With a sigh, Matt hooked his arms under Joel's and started dragging him away. Joel didn't struggle, but he didn't stop shouting at the captain, either.
Oriole just stared. He'd only known the guy for a day or so, but that was still the last thing he'd expected to see out of Joel.
He jumped when he heard Amelia shout, "Don't you stare at him! Priests can get mad too, it happens!" When he looked at her, he realized she was talking to the other people around them, who'd all stopped to watch.
Everyone looked away or pretended not to notice.
"Hmph." She turned around and pointed off toward where Matt was dragging Joel away. "Well go, you stupid bird. If you're so smart, follow him."
The thurgia made a sound like a songbird and ran after Matt, leaving Oriole unprotected. He adjusted his hat and looked up at Amelia, uncertain.
She sighed. "At least it's not as bad as the time he put Tommy through a wall."
Oriole's eyes went wide. "He what?"
She looked at him like she hadn't realized he was there. "Um. It's a long story. When Joel gets mad, he gets really mad."
She walked away and all he could do was stare.