Taz stretched her legs out, hooking her bare toes on the table and sinking into the depth of the couch. It was comfortable here, the feeling of ‘safe’ radiating throughout the room. Flames licked at the fireplace, even though it was still early, the atmosphere of the Khamsin and its elegant room set the relaxed mood for their deep discussion.
So, Alric hadn’t ever used his name… his surname. That was interesting. Maybe in the back of his mind he did remember something from before the orphanage. How else did he know to keep his head down and his identity protected? It didn’t change things for the worse. It made things easier. He was not known, and his name wasn’t out there in his chosen city. Taz felt better about that and the longevity of his survival in Sunberth.
Taz stretched out her toes, pointing and flexing them, lost in thought at his words and the situation as a whole. She missed the comfort of sand, of salt air, and the sounds of jungle and ocean. This place was unusual, as yet unfamiliar, though it was starting to feel like ‘their place’ in her mind. She reached out when he said that he wished she didn’t have to change her life, and gripped his knee lightly almost in solidarity, then released it once more. “Mathias said you’d say this… and he told me to tell you something.” She interjected, hoping to completely derail his train of thought. That dark mind path would do him no good in the long run.
“Florentin wants you. He wants your bloodline. He has money, power, and more resources than we understand and know. If you are going to counter that, to stay free, you need similar resources. You need a base of power, training, and most importantly allies. He has eyes out there. He has ears listening. You need the same. There are people that stand against what he stands for and who he is. My people are those kinds of people. Mathias told me to remind you that freedom is earned, won, and worked for all one’s life. He said to come to us if you need help. We are not helpless. And you don’t have to be alone.” She said softly. “Mathias is old enough that he knows what the Nymkarta can do and what it stands for. He seemed to understand why … why that man wants you.” Taz said, refusing to say ‘her grandfather’ because in truth he was a stranger to her and she didn’t want to claim a blood tie even though it was there.
In that same sentence though, the Founder had said it had to be a choice… Alric’s choice. “You have choices.” She said, not sure how to phrase how Mathias stated it. “You don’t have to be alone unless that’s what you want. I’m here because you choose to trust me. I could very well be a plant by Florentin, doing his bidding and trying to get you to trust me. Maybe even sleep with me… to get him what he wants without any fight.” She said quietly. It was something that was pointed out to her, something obvious, that she would have not thought of not because she was stupid, but because she was blindly trusting and naïve in so many ways. Growing up sheltered in Riverfall gave her no favors in life. She would have been better off raised in the desert and taught to survive like the rest of her people were.
“Help is out there. It has been offered. And there’s no conditions and expiration on the offer.” She finally said, crossing her arms over her stomach and rubbing at a shoulder – a nervous habit she didn’t even notice she did. Taz suddenly wished Bree was here, to chastise her or make a quirky comment that would snap her out of this sudden funk she found herself in.
“It’s short sighted to say its safer for others for you to stay away; from them… from me. You are thinking in the short term, Alric, but that man is playing the long game. He always has. I don’t know if he doesn’t age or if he has found in his magic the secret to longevity. But he doesn’t need things to resolve right now. If he did, he most likely would have found you already. And those people that are willing to risk something are thinking of the long game… of the magic in your blood in the hands of someone who has little morals and no guilt. The Nymkarta wasn’t supposed to survive. They raged wars that lasted generations. They had unheard of powers. Even I, in Riverfall and way out in Syka, have heard the stories of things pre-Valterrian.” Taz whispered, reaching up to brush a stray curl from her face.
“Even Sunberth remembers stories of mages who took slaves, so great was their power, and forced people to do things they didn’t want to do… work mines. You told me that yourself. They could create artificial life of people who were not people made of mud and stone. They traveled to other worlds. I even heard how they formed the Kelvic race to serve them. One of them… a mage named Marcus, lost his twin sister to another world, so he created an animalistic race of humans that could search those worlds for him looking for her.” Taz said softly, shaking her head.
“There are reasons to let others help. And you need to hear those reasons, even if you are not ready to. And if you still say no, that is okay too. Because they would be poor representatives of their ideals if they took choices away from people in the name of retaining freedom from the tyranny of the past.” She added. “Trust goes both ways. I trust you to stay out of his hands. I trust you to keep your head down and move forward with your life as you feel you must in whatever way that is.” She whispered, hating herself for saying that. He might vanish abruptly, and lose himself in an instant, never to be heard from again. Tazrae would hate that, but it had to be his choice. She would not be one of the people her Grandfather seemed to be. She saw what he did to Alric’s mother. She saw how he used her and discarded her when she was no longer useful. Taz had met soulless people before. And he was the definition of one straight out of a scholarly text.
Alric changed the subject though. And in many ways, Tazrae was grateful for it. She smiled when he said he liked the orange. She liked them too, though by far her favorite was the lemons. She liked the extremes the yellow fruit had and how far their flavor could be utilized. She tried to follow his thoughts on bodies, the way he described what they did, and nodded not sure where he was headed with the conversation. Then she understood when he contrasted the literal of a body with what she suspected he was not labeling the spiritual of the heart and soul. Weapons… all of them, thought Tazrae.
He was commenting about how things were used and her analogy on a blade being only a blade and utilized wholly differently by various groups. Chefs could create culinary delights. Murders could take a life. The list went on and on. Then he made the leap to magic and power, and Tazrae slowly nodded. “I don’t believe that power taints all minds, Alric. I think power can potentially damage weak minds. Fine wine can lure men to drink until they are drunk and crave the wine over and over, and yet others can sip at it and never feel its call. I don’t know why that is, but I do think it has to do with the strength of one’s character and will.” She added, bringing up a knee and wrapping her arms around it. She shifted, sitting forward with one leg stretched out and one leg encased in her arms with her chin resting thoughtfully on its top.
Her only reaction to his statement about him suspecting her not tolerating him abusing anything was a slow curve upwards of her mouth. She was relaxed – Syka relaxed – and satiated… not hungry, not cold, not tired, and not needing of anything. She usually only felt this way after a heavy workout and some meditation or cooking.
“I’ve never had need to throw a punch.” She replied, not defensively, just stating a fact. “In fact, you are about the only person I’ve ever been inclined to feel the need to strike in my entire life.” She added, the upturn of her lips metamorphosizing into a full smile. “Well, you and perhaps some rather nasty monkeys that have a tendency to defecate in their hands and throw it at people.” Taz added in such a way as Alric might get the impression she’d never resorted to using the word ‘shit’ in her entire life.
“I am weak, physically. I realize it. I can’t climb like I’ve seen men do. I can’t strike with force and make my hit count. I’m soft. I was worse when I first came to Syka. But the jungle has slimmed me down, toned me up, and taught me more about movement than I’ve ever thought about in my entire life. It’s a hard thing to explain, but I still know I can be stronger and do better. I can have more stamina and strength. I should be able to run faster and longer without being as winded as I would get now. I’m conscious of it, especially since the Tea and the Dreamwalk. I feel a sense of… urgency, somehow.” She trailed off, as if it were hard for her to explain.
She turned to him as he spoke, claiming she wasn’t crazy and that he would not stand to see her unable to fight. His offer to teach her surprised her. She released her leg and stretched out her feet again, unconcerned they were on the table with the food. In her mind, food came from the ground, the sky, from all around them and she was clean. “I would like that… “ She said thoughtfully, almost humbly. “It feels…. Comforting to me, us working together, regardless if it is just meeting like this or doing something even more … proactive.” She said thoughtfully.
“I’m going to get better with my bow. I have a compound longbow and I’m just learning to use it. You said you were learning the sword… despite your dislike of weapons? Why do you dislike them? And why the sword?” She asked, looking thoughtfully at him. “There might be times where we don’t have weapons and have to fight. I’m going to learn more about that. If you are willing to teach me, I am willing to listen. But I can find other teachers as well… people in Syka who will offer.” She said thoughtfully, then listed out what they needed to do.
“Get stronger. Get smarter. Learn all we can about magic. Learn about combat with and without weapons. What weapon would you suggest for me or do you think the bow is fine?” She said thoughtfully. Taz wasn’t sure how she was going to fit this all in and still run a thriving Inn. It was fine if she was guestless and that meant free time, but when her rooms were occupied, there was much for her to do. She couldn’t always come here… and this room…. Taz glanced around frowning.
“Is there even a place to train here? I’ve never heard of one.” She added, knowing space was at a premium at The Outpost. “Or is it something we can do…. here?” She said, frowning, uncertain. “That seems like a lot, Alric. I know you said you had work in Sunberth. How are we going to find the time?” She asked, worry suddenly infusing her voice. She tipped her head back and let it fall against the back of the couch, studying the scrollwork on the ceiling a moment and tasting the desert air with all its odd spices. Someone was cooking something in the Courtyard but Taz had no appetite. She was suddenly overly worried. There were too many questions in her head and too many potential answers she didn’t think she’d like.
Doing nothing, however, wasn’t one of those answers. Life had a way of working things out. She’d seen it happen before… where the impossible was suddenly made possible. So, she took a deep breath and relaxed, forcing her body to slowly uncoil from the tension that had seized it. She ran one hand down the thigh not touching Alric’s and stroked her stomach with the other hand. Her lips twisted thoughtfully. Be open…. she thought… to answers and solutions. They would present themselves.
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