Moke’s PoV


    Livia’s motions flow like music amid the trees; to express it for an audience would require so many complex parts. I can hear the trio; at least it would need a pulsing drum, a light dancing flute, and a lyre calling out the liquid grace. The song’s parts are still swirling through my mind, leaving me wondering at its composition when she halts before me. Her sudden shift from grace to stillness making me blink in wonder. The firm gaze resting on me from such a youthful face freezes my thoughts in place.


    “What did I do this time?”


    My fingers brush against my hair as I resist - only at the last - an urge to scratch my hair, her sternness a reminder of my mother when I''m in trouble.


    “I don’t know, you tell me,” Livia demanded, her tone as sceptical as the look that set her delicate features. Yet for me, her eyes arrest, the beauty of sapphire sparkling with life, the knowing certainty shining from within them.


    “No, of course, I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m truly puzzled.”


    “You being you Moke, I’m sure you’ve done something wrong, even if I don’t know it. I’ve heard the poems; some are good, others naughty. I think every time one gets retold, that’s a count against you.” said Livia, her gaze flickering across me again. ”No coitus clothing today?”


    “They’re all good, thank you; actually, some are magnificent! That clothing was all I had to wear, and Julia provided them. I wasn’t even aware of its auspices till you pointed it out.”


    Her look had set me on the back foot, and with every word, I can feel my retreat.


    “Would that have stopped you wearing it?” asked Livia, dry amusement flicking on her lips.


    “No, not really. I like the garments. The colours fair cried of Dawn’s brightness in this dreary winter. After such darkness, I couldn’t believe she inspired such happiness within my heart.”


    Virtues extolled make no impression on the youth, and all I earn is a single eyebrow arched slightly higher than before. The effort curiously deliberate, as if she’s practiced it. Who arcs a single eyebrow? So strange, still perhaps I should try it for emphasis on a dramatic moment.


    “That’s what I thought. Why are you here, Moke?” Livia asked, her tone a strong demand brooking no quarrel.


    I can tell she’s been listening to Torm closely; it’s the exact tone I heard him use the other night, to a patron too many sheets to the wind.


    “Julia brought me here.”


    “No. Why are you here? As in this square, this morning?”


    Exasperation carrying along on the hard stone of her tone, though I did not know why she was so harsh.


    “Did Julia go back? Like back to there?”


    “They needed Julia to guide Yngvarr on a mission. We saw them off this morning. Why do you ask?” Livia probed, her tone expressing discontent.


    “But she never said goodbye!”


    It’s disconcerting. I can hear the pout within my voice and try to arc one eyebrow to make it seem in jest. The look of scorn returned speaks ill of my success, and I try a smile instead.


    “Moke, she rescued you; you don’t own Julia. You make her uncomfortable with how you carry on,” said Livia, shaking her head in frustration.


    Ahh Julia, so coy, so bashful, she plays her coquettish part so well.


    “Perhaps I’m just too great a temptation for her.”


    A hand upon my chest and a dramatic sigh earns me a look of disbelief before her tone becomes cutting.


    “Her only temptation is about breaking your nose. So she’s keeping clear to avoid hurting you.”


    What? Break my nose? But the clothing? How have I offended?


    “I came to talk to Captain Torm.”


    I find myself betrayed when my free hand bashfully starts scratching an ear.


    “If that’s the case, you’ll likely have to wait. He and Master Farhad are training; I’m practicing here to let Torm focus,” Livia replied, “There’s no need to be coy for me.”


    When I pull my hand away I see her amusement flash, a Soul easing purity of light gleaming in her gaze’s crystal depths, and the lips turn so delicately.


    “Why is Master Farhad training Captain Torm?”


    “I’m not sure that’s for you to know. You’ll have to ask him. Is there a reason you’re loitering in the square watching me practice?” asked Livia, redirecting the conversation with smooth intent.


    “Since you call him your uncle and I don’t know the guards, I thought you might let Torm know I was hoping to speak to him. I could entertain you, perhaps some Odes, a song or two for your service?”


    “Let’s hear a song then,” Livia’s tone brooking no argument.


    Is this the enchantment Julia bespells the ladies with? Spines of steel grown to resist anothers charms, Julia has left me besotted. Now, this little one haggles like a horse trader. I have never learnt why she lives here, save that Julia saved her. A Succubus saving someone, how bizarre.


    “A song is an excellent choice. If you let Torm know, I’ll play you a song.”


    “Nope, the song first, or you can talk to the guards. You know the ones right over there,” Livia dismissed, a flicking gesture towards Tyr’s Temple.


    “Your very graceful movements had one within my mind. I’ll require some moments composition to ensure it’s fine enough.”


    I tilt my head and look towards the Temple’s guards, hoping to prod her to proceed.


    “You can save your hint; I’ll wait till I hear the song.”


    “You’re very abrupt for one so young.”


    “Moke, why do you need to talk to Torm?” Livia asked, her gaze fixed on me even when she began stretching in a manner that seemed beyond belief.


    “Julia asked two Charter House members and me to gather information for her. She suggested an endeavour that I feel would have potential for ill consequences, so I wanted to get an unofficial view from a member of officialdom. Since Torm might have insights, I wanted to speak to him.”


    “The Adventurer’s Guild she suggested?” Livia asked, her tone dry, and matter-of-fact.


    “How do you know about that?”


    This girl keeps catching me in one surprise after another, I wonder if she enjoys throwing others off-balance.


    “She told Farhad, Yngvarr, Alfarr, and Torm about it and what her ideas were. I was there gaining hugs. You should talk to the Companions hall; Alfarr spoke to them last night.”


    Even with eyes of pure crystal, I’m sure I sense her rolling them at me, the facets within shifting in the morning’s light.


    “How do you know so much?”


    The knowledge this girl is so casually displaying turns my head around.


    “I listen. It’s a matter of opening the ears and not the mouth. I plan to be among the people in charge of it when I’m older. Either that or I’ll be running schools throughout the ten kingdoms teaching Monks.”


    “Has Alfarr already started things off with the Companions?”


    The question comes out in my surprise, more an exclamation than a question.


    “That’s what I just said.”


    “If you’re so knowledgeable, can you tell me about Sagga?”


    I usually pick older sources for information, but Livia’s right; sometimes, children in the right places learn much. Oh, the Temple children venturing into the various squares; they’ll be able to tell me what they hear from Set’s priests.


    “Julia helped her already. You don’t need to stick your nose into it.”


    The response from Livia comes so crisp and sharp, a series of stinging blows.


    “Julia helped her? I’d like to know more, to help; she’s hurting still.”


    Her mouth twists for a moment, a delightful childlike pondering, and I wonder if I’m seeing who she was before being raised from death’s embrace.


    “Her parents, Eivor and Hermod, run a bakery towards the common from the inner gate. Eivor is a Priestess for Lady Eakc?.”


    While the words are clear, they make no sense.


    “But Eakc?’s a...”


    “You know far less than you think. If you want to know about Lady Eakc?’s tenets, speak to Eivor and Rana. You telling your tales inspired Eivor enough to believe.”


    I did what?


    “The bakery you said.”


    My voice sounds somehow faint and strained. Maybe I’m getting a cold?


    “You won’t find either of them there. They’ll be down at the docks, most likely the southern piers.” Livia responded.


    “Why?”


    “Tending to the thralls. Eivor’s been healing them to give them hope.” Livia said, a smile lighting her face.


    “Healing?”


    “See, that’s what I mean about listening. Open your eyes, ears and mind; two ears, two eyes, one mouth, and your brain should be bigger than those combined. I’d suggest using them in that ratio.”


    “Harsh,” I try to parry.


    “Truth,” Livia retorts, her hands firmly upon her hips, I’m truly being told.


    “Very well, oh venerable teacher of truthful words.”


    As I give her a fancy bow, the look in her eyes stops me in mid-motion. Her eyes are strange enough with their lack of white, and the glowing crystal light of them seems to shine a light into my depths.


    “Julia purged the taint and quickened your bloodline. You still should find someone to speak to about what you lived through Moke. The aid she gave me was far greater than what you received; you should seek someone before the lingering hurts grow poisonous.”


    The tone of her voice catches me by surprise, and I blink at the concern and compassion.


    “What do you mean, quickened my bloodline?”


    I grab on the statement in confused desperation to deflect from the issue raising its head.


    “We’re in public. Even though you’re still not played me a song, let’s talk in the garden. It’s hard to resist giggling at the look on Torm’s face when he’s tossed around. He’s very persistent, which is just as well,” Livia remarked. Without waiting for my response, she’s already moving away, not as fast as I’ve seen her motions blur, yet, I still need to hurry to catch up.


    “Why is it just as well?”


    “Are you blind about how he cares for Julia?” Livia asks, blinking in disbelief, and adds to my mental notes for the Ode.


    “No. I just don’t understand why? Isn’t he one of Tyr’s vargr drangijaz?”


    “He is indeed, and maybe you will understand after we talk if you’re not completely thick.”


    “Why am I talking to you about this, you’re what, ten, eleven?”


    “Ten, and because I know Julia far better than you. My father is a senator of the Occidentalis Kingdom. I have Oaths I took to keep Senate secrets I might come to know since I grew up in his household. Do you have similar ones as a child of a High Priestess?” Livia asked as she led the way past the gates. Neither of the guards making a fuss, though one raises brows my way.


    “I’m Oath bound to keep the secrets of the Church of Bast that I overhear or learn.”


    “Can you keep anything I tell you within the bounds of that Oath?” Livia asked, her tone seeking security for her concerns.


    “My mother or another High Priestess would need to confirm. Is that acceptable?”


    “Is it acceptable to keep them as secrets under the Oath till your mother renders judgements? Given what places you agreed to find for Julia?”


    The tension and contempt in Julia’s words while she spoke of Setau and Set rings within my mind. The ferocity of her protectiveness and anger pulses within my Soul as I consider them. Something pushes against me, bringing a calming yet playful sense, so different to the pact with her. My heart aches for the playful Mau who so often sought to use me as a perch. The bubbling purr of Clea or her curious chirps when she tried to echo my lyre’s notes. Her death saving me from a snake had hit hard in my youth. I swear by Lady Bast, I can feel her head rubbing against my leg.


    Lady Bast?


    When I feel the shove against my calf, I can but only nod, not daring to wonder when I had warranted such attention.


    “Very well, I’ll consider them so until mother renders a judgement.”


    “Good.” Livia declared, the questioning ceasing as we walked around the side of the Temple’s principal building.


    Despite my attempts at questions, she ignores me as we walk, her composure somehow comparing well to some Senior Priestesses I know. When we round another building, I see the garden she must have meant ahead. While bare, it was clear they’d prepared it for a spring planting. Beyond, I could see a glorious sight as Farhad sweeps Torm from his feet. Livia just flows to a bench and takes a perch, sitting on folded feet, so strangely prim. The training yards seem quiet; perhaps the rest are at breakfast now.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    “The bond you had with Julia. She changed it by feeding Ki through it instead of other options.”


    “But she’s a….”


    A raised finger cuts me off, and I swear the blue crystal in her eyes grows hard; she’s ten, I mourn already for the one who marries her. My tutors didn’t do this good a job of scolding, and I generously provided them plenty of opportunity to practice.


    “You know less than you think. So let me tell you this: Ki is a form of Celestial energy, the eastern celestial court, the Jade Court, granted it to humanity. They normally allow Humans to channel this to manifest certain physical and spiritual capabilities. Rarely some orders use a purer form of it, gained via an Affinity called Jade Court Mana. Julia can make use of both. If she’s what you believe, could she do so? Would she have brought my Soul here? I was already securely hers, not just hers for the taking.”


    “How?”


    “That is not for me to say. You should know - since it relates to you - that Julia passed Ki into you instead of energy from the place you had escaped. She could have opted for the latter, perhaps even without harm to herself. Instead, her choice was for a different path. The celestial energy, even as Ki, activated your bloodline. Was it your grandfather or someone more distant that was a Celestial?” Livia asked but continued without giving me a chance to speak, “You don’t have to answer. Your blood is no longer pure Human, with a hint of Celestial; it reinvigorated your bloodline as if a direct child of a Celestial. If Julia is simply one of them, could she cause that effect?”


    “Never, this makes no sense.”


    I’m what now? A being of legend? Well, the ladies seem happy to appreciate it. Is that why I need so little sleep?


    “You were looking for revenge. Instead, you have become part of something more than you know.”


    “How do you know all this?”


    “Besides staying quiet and listening to people talking when I’m in the room. I’m a brat and listen at doors. Plus, I have memories of past lives that provide me guidance, isn’t that cool.” Livia exclaimed, the crystal of her eyes brightening.


    It’s not just that, is it? What does her gaze truly perceive?


    “Cool?”


    I mutter the word in confusion, wondering why the temperature was invoked.


    “Julia says it when she thinks something is good.”


    “But it’s winter?”


    “Doesn’t matter, apparently.”


    I try to keep a straight face as Torm hits the ground again. Even though I’m sure I managed it, I get a tap upon the nose.


    “My baby brother had a better attention span than you,” Livia reprimands.


    “You’re ten. I’m far older than you, young lady.”


    The words cross my lips, and the look I get seals the rest away.


    “Do you want to know about Sagga? How about the rest?”


    “Fine.”


    Muttered or not, the word is sufficient, though her hard look remains Livia explains.


    “I was a novice serving a High Priest of Janus, Lord of crossroads, gateways and other things. As a servant of the God of Travels, each year my teacher travelled. He did a circuit of roads to teach outsiders about the way of Janus, aid smaller temples and travellers, that sort of thing. A group of slavers captured us in a Norse village, with a High Priestess of the ‘S’ fellow you and Julia are plotting against. She was pleased to get my master into her cage. The rest she put into chains. They chained me along with the other Slaves, but my journey was by far the shortest.”


    It’s not pain I see, but an eerie calmness, and I recognise it well. A stillness that I never thought I’d see on anyone but Julia. Did I miss that her utter stillness was controlling pain? A Succubus holding in pain? She wasn''t being coy or flirting Julia was in pain. How did i miss that detail? What is Julia really?


    Expecting a slap, I still risk putting a hand on her own, giving this strange child a gesture of comfort. The look I get from Livia is one of surprise, and as stillness eases, puzzlement and pain show clear.


    “I thought you were too self-absorbed; perhaps you’re not completely hopeless. A stupid Summoner tricked by a knowledge Demon sacrificed me, and Julia ended up bonded to me. After she dealt with the Summoner, she killed the slavers, and she started setting some slaves free. My former master and she didn’t get on, and rather than risk him sending us to her home, she disabled him. Then she fled and found a spot to cleanse what my Soul had already absorbed using Ki. It had some other wonderful effects on me. Those came out when she convinced High Justice Verdandi to restore me to life.”


    “That sounds like there are lots of missed details like saying snow is cold, or water is wet.”


    I wonder from who I might learn further details, yet it’s a tale for whom the audience is small.


    “How observant of you! I skipped the details that you don’t need to know. A man had attacked Sagga while I was still recovering. Sagga was too afraid to tell anyone, yet Julia learnt he had attacked her. He’d convinced her that he or his friends would take retribution on her family if it came to court. He’d been very convincing in the matter. She had extra wounds from that part of the conversation. Since it surely would not be brought to a Justice when she couldn’t even bear to tell her parents, Julia dealt with him. Eivor heard the stories of your rescue, having already determined Julia had dealt with him. Plus, she knew Julia had something to do with my state. Added two and three, turning these events into Faith.” Livia said, making a gesture at her beautiful crystal eyes.


    “They are exquisite.”


    I can’t help but admire the wonder of her eyes, even though I suffer admonishment in return.


    “Moke.”


    A simple word softly spoken, yet it crosses the air between us with the force of a slap.


    “Sorry.”


    The smile that lights my lips at least earns a wry one in return, and I count it a victory.


    “Besides Eivor hearing your tales from her brother at the Silver Chalice, the folks rescued spoke of Eakc? the next day. It convinced her that Julia was worthy of following if she could give hope to so many people. Neither expected Eivor to gain a Priest path from it, or start a cult. Julia does what she sees as right, I’d suggest you avoid being in a position where she sees you in the wrong. She doesn’t accept she can’t do better, and she doesn’t accept her own failures. If she sees something evil or foul, she’ll stop it. Does that match with what you believe she is?” As the tale end, Livia’s expression is so regal, and fierce I wonder at the artists she’ll make weep in her prime.


    “It doesn’t; it makes no sense.”


    How is this possible? My thoughts are in a whirl as Livia shakes her head and reprimands again.


    “Moke, it makes plenty of sense if she isn’t exactly what you think she is,” Livia said, face set in resignation.


    “But what I saw…”


    I whisper in explanation, but she cut me off with a stern frown.


    “You aren’t acting during your performances, Moke? When you’re in danger, real danger, wouldn’t you act to blend in? Would she have stopped to rescue you if she only worried about herself? Did she demand payment?”


    “Well, she asked me to gather information.”


    I can’t believe what I hear, Acting, what part was an Act? When she spoke the words to have a screaming demon killed? Having dragged me to my feet or ordered me like a dog? This all makes so little sense, she’s a Demon!


    “Asked if you would help, I know she didn’t demand it. Plus, consider who she wants you to gain information upon. Your friends were fortunate for the rescue, other people died, and they’ve done worse besides. Justice is sometimes about providing guidelines for protection and behaviour, but sometimes it’s about calling due what is owed. Julia says that Church has been building up an enormous debt to pay back, and she plans to see that someone collects on it. Even if she can’t get the preferred result, they’ll be paying.”


    “What’s the preferred result?”


    I wonder what she has in mind besides the toppling of the Church. Does she truly seek to kill a God?


    “Something else not picking up power from its remains. But that’s impossible for her to stop, so she’ll make this lot pay first and then collect debts from others later. You should speak to Eivor still, but Sagga isn’t afraid like she was anymore. She’ll get stronger from the memories remaining; they’re no longer enough to leave her crippled by fear.”


    Does she think we’ll be scattering power into something else’s hands? Is she going to collect some herself? Is that her goal?


    “Why should I speak to Eivor?”


    “If you see Eivor’s activity on behalf of Julia, it might make an impression - even on you. Hopefully, at least.” Livia states, her voice trailing off on a sceptical note.


    I feel almost wounded, wondering that she judges me so harshly.


    “Surprised to see you visiting the inside of the Temple’s ground,” Torm said, his attention on me as he cames close, the dirt marking his clothing clear from a distance.


    “Have you been rolling in the mud?”


    I can’t help but dig, given the hole that he’s sunk me in.


    “Apparently I’m an old rug that needs dust shaken out of it. What can we do for you?”


    An old rug indeed, sheep or wolf skin is still to be seen. My musing though I set aside as I focus on his presence.


    “Neferu asked me to speak to you about changes between the Charter House and the Companions. Or if its best to start from scratch.”


    “The Adventurer’s guild Julia mentioned to Alfarr?” Torm asked, sounding unfussed.


    “Exactly.”


    “You should know she thinks it should operate regardless of a kingdom’s boundaries. For trustworthy people to find support and help improve themselves, structured to avoid control by a tyrant or fool. Your king giving direction to the Charter House and not just hiring them, concerned her. Tyr sees her approach as useful to extend a common sense of Law and Justice. Alfarr started the discussion, but he left this morning. Don’t make a mess while he’s away.”


    Torm at least has courtesy enough to inform before the orders begin again.


    “Politics rears its head more often than a snake. Trustworthy people?”


    Why does a Succubus care we can find trustworthy people? She has me nothing but confused!


    “People you’d trust enough not to betray you in the middle of battle. Leave it with Neferu and me; I believe you have information to gather,” Torm said, the orders set to continue.


    “Travelling in winter can be so miserable, can’t it wait till Spring?”


    The excuse is automatic, with the promise of Angrboda’s warmth again tomorrow.


    “Think of those suffering, perhaps Eivor or Rana might help you find inspiration,” said Torm, gaze resting upon me with uncomfortable weight.


    Even with what I’ve learnt, I still think an Ode might be in need, yet I feel as if he’s judging me for the other still.


    “You’re suggesting I go talk to….”


    “The faithful of Lady Eakc?, yes,” Torm answers, not even waiting for the question. The yard doesn’t grow still, while overcast, no lightning flashes, and the buildings don’t fall. “Since your tales provided a tipping point, perhaps you should work with them.”


    “My what!”


    I can’t believe what I’ve heard. My tales have done what?


    “Your tales of Lady Eakc?’s rescue of you, and other information overheard in the Companion Hall from your fellows, was the catalyst for Eivor’s belief.”


    “He doesn’t listen really well, and he’s supposed to be gathering information!” Livia’s exclamation makes her disappointment clear.


    “Perhaps Ipy should go with him at least,” Torm agrees, with an uncompromising nod.


    “You think?” asked Livia


    The sharp disbelief is so crystal clear it hurts, even me.


    “Livia, please don’t use Julia’s sayings,” Torm sighed, before mussing the girl’s hair.


    “But Uncle Torm, I get strange looks, and they’re so funny,” Livia’s childlike delight apparent in her voice.


    “You know Julia is Eakc?. Right?”


    As soon as I express my disbelief, the echoing yes is harshly scolding, and I hurry away. Suddenly I’m the sheepish one, needing a tail to tuck between my legs. I still can’t believe he took my words as being about Julia. The Ode never mentioned whose breasts were arching towards the sun. Only three Odes before had featured her name! I’d paused and had a drink. It was clearly a subject change.


    *


    I passed what I think might be Sagga’s family bakery on the way towards the docks. A young-looking lady tends customers, with two men handling the baking. While I see the resemblance in the men, the lady looks quite different; perhaps her brother’s wife, or just there to make some coin. The common is what I expected and made me realise I’d stayed in the inner quarter. The winter soil was mostly stark and bare, the minimal grass sitting brown and dead. Hard cold ground makes me feel the day’s chill even more and I pull my cloak around tight.


    The sound of boats calls me from well past the buildings beyond the common, so I stay on the drier mud to skirt the frosted quagmire of the common. Even in winter the docks I find at last are busy, workers loading and unloading vessels big and small alike. The lake stretches out via two rivers to the north, and the southern one meanders to the coast.


    When I find the southern piers, two that I assume are Eivor and Rana stand out clearly in their cleanliness. Though I’m not sure how Eivor could be Sagga’s mother given the youthfulness of her looks, she seems more an older sister. Hair of deep red with no grey in sight, the arch of her jaw, the squareness of her chin, and the same firm build. I can’t tell the colour of her eyes from here, and I wonder if they’ll be the same forest green with storms calling from within.


    Despite the lilt with which Livia and Torm had used for their name, I hadn’t honestly expected the wood Elf I saw ahead. Easily taller than Yngvarr, his skin looked like tilled soil, drinking the summer sun, life peeping from it delicately. While I couldn’t make out his eyes at this distance, they shone in even the day’s dim light as he watched Eivor clean a wound with a firm pride. The fineness of Elven features so out-of-place amid these docks, his layered apparel alone looking more costly than everything about. His long hair, the colour of leaves turning before the winters cold, ran down to his waist beside a bow stave of golden wood held in place across his back. Its craftsmanship with finely grown runes, enough to beggar all within the walls and require more coin on top. The sword at his waist and daggers in his boots likely weighting the scales further from sanity.


    A glow and words in Celestial draw my attention away. My heartbeat quickens as I watch Eivor’s hands shine and even from this distance I see the young man’s open wound seal. When she withdraws, I see her brilliant smile, and blessing-healed skin remains—the smooth shininess standing out amid the dirt and filth. From the grease matted hair, down to the mud-covered feet, bare even in this chill, the details dig at the memory of a night spent atop a knoll. I feel my fingers rub against my fine pants and remember the rags I had burnt.


    An echoing chirp of kittenish laughter sings within my Soul, and my stride sways as I feel a clear bump from the memory of Clea that has been winding between my legs.


    What did I do?


    As the young man arises, I see him tuck a medallion away; details too distant to see clear, black, gold, and something blue. Though even at a hundred rods, it shines so well its newness is apparent. Another healing as I grow close, a young girl with mud-coated hair and rags barely making a dress.


    “Who are these people?”


    The question flows free from distress as I grow near, watching splinters lift free from the flesh, Eivor’s blessing pushing out wood, injury and pus alike. The Elf in fine apparel monitoring her as she chants again, and her hands glow anew.


    “They don’t get to count as people when they’re in debt, the Jarl’s law considers them merely thralls. I’m just glad Eakc? didn’t venture this way during the winter. She sees in absolutes when there are injured in need.” Rana replies, or at least I assume it’s him.


    “Wasn’t she here for months?”


    I try not to wince as I edged my tone in disbelief.


    “Mostly within the inner wall or at the commons. The winter brings the thralls to town; farms don’t need idle hands. Or farm families who cannot harvest enough to pay debts or set aside enough to last through winter.”


    The Elf’s voice intones with musically wondrous grace leavings me pondering how the most delicate instrument could compete.


    “Like the girl and her family?”


    The question feels as if I’m prompting him just to speak as my mind puts together chords to support his earlier words.


    “Yes, the five of them owe debts of twelve golds. Even if they got money they’d have nowhere to work out the winter. So unless they gain enough to clear the debt and some more besides, thralls they shall remain.”


    The weight of the purse within my shirt weighs against my heart. I’ve ways to earn more which doesn’t seem true for these.


    “Are you Rana?”


    “Indeed I am, Moke.”


    “You know of me?”


    “Torm described you well, and it helps there is no one else that would seek me here carrying a Lyre case.” replied Rana, his amusement clear.


    “You are part of Lady Eakc? faithful?”


    “I agreed to help guide her faithful in their initial steps to bring hope.” Rana corrected, though the smile didn’t leave his lips.


    “Hope? Surely you jest?”


    “I’m a servant of the Lady of the Forest,” stated Rana, his declaration conveying clear pride.


    As his gaze fixes on me, the amber in his eyes ignites from within, and I feel far younger than a seed beside a truly old oak tree. I’ve known Elves, and talked with them before, but this one’s age humbles all I’ve met before. I know his kind, having seen one like him though a servant to Lady Bast, come to my mother’s side in a time of great need. The world presses tight about me, and looking into his gaze, I feel as if I can now barely breathe. A moment ago he seemed a normal Elf, if exquisite; now I wish to sing homage but his gaze holds me locked in place. Yet his presence seems as if peeking from behind a curtain he has set.


    “With all due reverence to the Lady of the Forest, why would she or you be helping Lady Eakc?’s faithful?”


    The smile lifts his lips as the pressure fades. Instead of the glory that had pressed against my heart and Soul, I see merely an exquisite male Elf again.


    “Like you Moke, Lady Eakc? rescued me, Eivor, and Sagga when we had given up all hope. Do you think others unworthy of Hope as well?” Rana asked the simple words in Norse, spoken with tones of liquid musical grace.


    Coins press through the leather resting within my hand as I hold a weighty purse out to Eivor.


    “See who you can free and establish through the remains of winter.”


    The words come with ease, as the coldness of the knoll echoes again, but with it sleepy memories of tender hands tucking more blankets about me their very touch easing pains within my Soul.


    “Thank you. I’ll lift up those most in need of hope, at least those we can ensure won’t fall back.” Eivor said, the smile giving as much light as her daughter’s eyes had held storms. Her voice carried more true joy than I’ve heard in many places of pleasure.


    “That wasn’t a request for aid. It speaks well of your heart’s potential it was freely offered,” said Rana, nodding with appreciation, and a new smile flitting across his lips.


    “Why don’t you just free them all?”


    The hilts sticking from his boots, as practical as they seem, are likely attached to blades more enchanted than most mortals might own.


    “I’m not here to solve human mortal ills of the moment. I’m here guiding the early footsteps of a faith seeking to render such aid for centuries to come. Humans need to find hope, but also to learn to stand on their own feet, and lift their fallen themselves.”


    “A light shines brightest in the darkest places. We shouldn’t expect others to provide a light; we should look to be the light for others.” Eivor said, gracing me with another smile. “You should come to our assemblies; perhaps one who follows the Lady Bast, given her protectiveness, would find value in it.”


    “It doesn’t lessen one’s Faith in their own Deity to see places where it doesn’t reach, or find where allies might overlap,” said Rana, as my eyebrows raise.


    “They''re not in the same pantheon, do you think Lady Eakc? would work with Lady Bast?”


    “Didn’t she already retrieving the child of her High Priestess from the darkest of places? I was captive to a dire thing, too, expecting no rescue till the flicker of a candle appeared. It doesn’t lessen my Faith in my Lady to wish to help Humans who worship her. My Lady sees her and her people as friends.”


    The sincerity within this Celestial’s words puzzle me but take my thoughts beyond disbelief.


    “Perhaps I might sing some songs.”


    “That would be nice, though perhaps not ones that speak of arching backs,” Eivor replies, as her gaze becomes a frown.


    “With all honesty that was not speaking of her, I called it Ode to a morning’s dream.”


    My truthful protests ease the frown into amusement.


    “That’s not the message those hearing it received. I’d suggest you not speak of such dreams, right after Odes mentioning the Lady’s name.” Eivor instructs, “You gave some important people a perception that isn’t correct.”


    “What can I do to make amends?”


    “Perhaps songs, as you promised, here and in other places. Let us speak of the Lady’s tenets and see what you might compose. We’d not ask you to convert, but I’m sure you also sing songs and tell tales of Ra and other Gods, not just your Lady Bast.”


    “I do indeed.”


    Rana just nods and smiles at my acknowledgement, the quick demeanour change, with the unruffled nature of others brings a memory to the fore. I hold my next remark till Eivor heads towards the hard-faced man supervising rag clothed thralls, among others, working along the docks.


    “You do normal well.”


    “It takes practice and self-acceptance to not overwhelm,” Rana replies, nodding as if in answer to a question I’ve not voiced.


    Why would a Succubus not accept herself?


    “If you want me to sing these songs, doesn’t that make me a missionary for her faith?”


    “Some might consider singing songs of any faith doing work to spread it,” Rana replied, nodding in consideration.


    “Wonder what mother will think of me fulfilling a missionary position for a Cult.”