Charyou Tree. Come Reap.

[notwithmyhand]

Life for you, life for your cropIt was night, and the moon had come up as Alain walked back to New Gilead, whistling Careless Love in a strangely melancholy key. The Demon Moon hung there full in the sky, and as had been his habit as a boy, he did not look up at it, superstitious of ghosts, demons, and all thing other worldly. And small wonder too

Comments

[aly_brighteyes]

Aly understood bonfires and harvest celebrations, knowing their like from Tortall. What she couldn't understand, however, was why the effigies looked so like her two friends, as well as the man she'd only seen in brief glances during her visit to their world. She stood at the edge for a long time, staring at the scarecrows while her own Junai circled over her head, unperturbed by the bonfire or the threat that Cuthbert (and his hawk) might be nearby.

Across the way, she saw Alain and looked at him with confusion, real and troubled. Something about the look on his face kept her voice stuck in her throat.

[notwithmyhand]

When he caught sight of her, Alain moved, startled although his eyes only flicked to her for the briefest second. It was truly all he had time for with his expression so caught by the

(orange)

flames and what lay within them. It was as if his gaze were caught in the grapefruit, the wizard's glass that had been their undoing in Meijis, but nothing reflected in that

(pink)

color. There were only the flames and the eerie smiling expressions on the face of the stuffy-guys on the stakes. The rest had already blurred beyond recognition, but his face was still clear.

"This was from home," Alain nearly whispered and then shook his head. "No, not home. Meijis," he said as if she should know what that meant.

[aly_brighteyes]

She caught the way he started, wondered after it, but said nothing. In the face of Alain's shock and her own confusion, Aly could only stare mesmerized into the flames, at the effigies of her friends. He understood what he meant by 'from home.' It was 'from home' in the way of the island's fondness for cruel gifts, of slave collars that woke her with bad memories. What kind of story did the gunslingers here have that this could be brought to them?

Involuntarily, she thought of Magda's warning, back in Cuthbert's dream. "But a gunslinger is something else, heart. They're more like falcons-- you can keep 'em, and you can train 'em, but they'll always be wild." Was this a part of that?

"What does it mean?"

[notwithmyhand]

"It's a warning," he said, "And ill luck." He almost added that it was ka, but he privately wondered if he had not evaded that entirely. Certainly men like him did not get second chances once the bullet that had been carried for them found their home.

"At home, this would have been Reaptide," he added for her benefit. "A celebration." His cold dead tone told her the same story as his face.

[aly_brighteyes]

There was no celebration in this. These were burning demons on their backs, and there was no doubt of it. Aly frowned. The smell of burning was becoming less familiar and cheerful until it was all smoke and ghosts. This was Midsummer or Mayday. "Wishing you a happy Reaptide seems in poor taste right now," she said, only half hearing herself.

[notwithmyhand]

"Aye," Alain agreed. "Happy Reap has been a long time gone for me though I wish it weren't so."

He wasn't angry at the comment. In a way it reminded him of what Bert might have said. A joke at something that was no joking matter. It was surely his style, and apparently her's as well.

[aly_brighteyes]

If Aly couldn't keep her humor, she'd go dead inside, a spy husk with nothing but the job. It wasn't a part of her.

"At the risk of prying," and she did so love to pry, even at the worst times, "would the loss of Reap enjoyment have anything to do with your less than festive decorations?"

[notwithmyhand]

"Got it in one," Alain affirmed. "The result of our choices that I thought I'd never have to revisit." In fact the only time he had was in dreams, but that had not been for a long time. He hadn't forgotten, but there was a lot of history between him and that time.

[aly_brighteyes]

"Would it be outside of my bounds to ask what happened?" Aly asked, staring again at the effigies. "Why are there scarecrows of you and Cuthbert burning like that?"

[notwithmyhand]

He shook his head, though it was unclear until he spoke whether it was in denial of her request or because he didn't mind the question. "Because someone knew what happened a long time ago," Alain said. His answer was distant, but it was the truth of what he thought, and as he turned to look at her, he wondered if the same thought might occur to her, that the someone he meant was a mutual enemy. Since their return from home, he had regarded her differently, and he was glad of it now. "This was a threat then," he said and looked back at the fire. And it is a threat now, went unspoken, but nonetheless lingered.

[aly_brighteyes]

"And it still is," Aly spoke aloud what Alain did not. It was a fire that was too close to safety, and too close to his home, his safe place. The dummies were of himself and his friends, and it was all eerie. She couldn't have designed a better fear trap herself. Somewhere inside, next to the Aly who sympathized with her friend, there was a cold little spy ticking away, one who was impressed by the creator of the device. "Would it be out of bounds to guess just who would send such a threat?"

[notwithmyhand]

Alain began to nod and then shook his head once more. "I have a guess, but it shouldn't be possible," he said, his tone unguardedly betraying that though it should be, he didn't consider it impossible. Alain the boy, the young man, and the friend shook in his boots, caught up in his fear and remembering, showed in his slack face, but the Gunslinger knew better. The Gunslinger was mobilizing to deal with it. The Gunslinger stood out in his eyes. He had theories, a dozen or so, though only one felt right to him, and yet the pieces didn't fit. Instead of naming the man, he asked her, "And thee? What is your guess?"

[aly_brighteyes]

"What should and shouldn't be possible are somewhat relative in this place, don't you think?" Aly asked, forcing herself to look from the burning stuffed Alain to the real, living one. "I know we've an enemy who's capable of plenty of tricks, even when he's snug and comfy up in the jail."

[notwithmyhand]

"Aye, I'd say they are," he replied gratefully. His suspicion had been so strong, but he'd known even upon first consideration that most of the island population would scoff at the idea. No one could be in two places at once and no one had magic. But Alain was of the mind that they didn't know all of the rules. They never knew all of the rules. "You speak the truth," he said, a smile cracking through his face. "I'm glad you think as I do."

[aly_brighteyes]

"Even without magic," she said thoughtfully, "it means little when a bit of charisma and persuasion can do the trick." She knew that the loss of her own magic had done little to keep her from acting as she normally did, from fighting and spying and playing games. "He's a tricky sort."

[notwithmyhand]

Alain nodded. There were many things even locked up that Flagg may have done to put this here. Lloyd certainly was not the only man to ever promise himself to a man with a smooth silver tongue. They'd practiced the art of persuasion on people themselves in the name of the white, or in the name of gain, or simply to keep their lives. "Very trig, I'll give him that," he agreed. "I don't doubt he could have done as you say, and there are plenty who would do it on a lark. It's not harming anyone, is it?" he said bitterly.