Chương 46: Dinner and Details

If Miriam hadn't known better she would have thought today was the day everyone had washed up on a beach and fought for their lives through a hazardous jungle. As she walked into the small dining hall meant for more private get-togethers than would be appropriate for the town square - or for if it rained - she saw Róise huddled under a blanket near the fireplace, shivering like a wet kitten. Her skin was sallow and gaunt. She was nursing some sort of warm beverage that smelled like jasmine.

Hovering over her was Cormac in full mama-bird mode, clearly stricken by the state in which his best friend had arrived. He routinely re-tucked her blanket around her and refilled her mug until she swatted at him weakly and told him to sit down. He didn't look great himself, but it was clearly not the same sort of weariness. Cormac looked wrung-out in a way she had never seen him. Miriam guessed it was the first time he had been out of fórsa since they'd met.

His eyes were sunken and his hair messy, but he was clearly trying to maintain his usual cheerful demeanor for Róise sake - who didn't really seem to appreciate it. Miriam would add herself to the looks-like-death-warmed-over crew. Cian had worked her to the bone, trying seemingly infinite variations on methods to extract only one of her fórsa natures at a time. Nothing had worked yet, but she felt like they could be nearing a solution - it might be just a matter of practice on her part.

The remaining two were the only ones to seem hale and healthy. Sol and Maitiú chatted animatedly at the dinner table, and neither seemed at all worse for wear. As she neared, their topic was obvious.

"I haven't seen the lakes, but a sail might be overkill," Sol said excitedly.

"More work to manage than it's worth. Rowing is better unless the lake is huge."

"Aye, but I'm a sailor! Not a rower!" Maitiú laughed, gulping down what smelled like more brandy.

"Ah, Miriam, sit down! I was contemplating building a fishing vessel for the lakes Cian mentioned before. Despite his pedigree, Sol seems to insist on the boat being powered by man instead of the breath of the gods!"

"It's just more practical," Sol said, smiling. Miriam had not seen him so energized. He seemed in fine spirits and a laugh seemed odd coming from his lips. No matter how she looked she still couldn't see Solas in him, and in that at least she took some comfort.

"You two seem chipper for a day of training," Miriam huffed, sinking onto a bench attached to the table.

"I can barely put one foot in front of the other."

"I'm finding out all sorts of things about myself," Sol said proudly.

"I spent the day walking around the village and talking to my new neighbors," Maitiú said.

"Such nice folk at this Loth… lith… Láthair Maol."

"And got an early start drinking I see," Miriam said wryly.

"Wait - you didn't do any training? I thought Cian said you needed to find an Adept class." All eyes turned to Maitiú.

"Ahh, bugger," he said.

"I was going do this better. But I've decided I'm not gonna try to escape from the Walk. Just gonna stay here. Maybe be a fisherman." They all protested at once, but he just raised a hand.

"I don't got the drive you folks got. Don't got the talent. A quiet life here's better than a loud death out there. My mind's made up."

"It's your choice, Maitiú," Miriam said gently.

"I'm sorry you have to make it."

"Yeah," he said, pointedly not looking at Cormac.

"Me too." Miriam headed off an awkward pause by turning to Sol.

"And what did you learn about yourself?"

"I have no fórsa stream whatsoever!" Sol declared.

"Cian says that makes me very unique." Cormac frowned.

"Does that mean you can't use techniques?"

"We're not sure yet. Would you like to see what I can do?" Sol seemed so eager and animated that it was like almost a completely different person than the stiff automaton he'd seemed yesterday. What a difference a day of life made to someone only hours old!

"Of course!" Cormac said excitedly, walking over to the table. Sol reached out to touch him, but then hesitated.

"You know, perhaps I should show you with Maitiú. You don't seem like you have much fórsa left."

"Ah, go ahead," Maitiú said. Clearly he and Sol had been talking for a while - this was not new to the old sailor. Sol touched Maitiú. Suddenly his eyes glowed red and Maitiú grunted as the fórsa was pulled out.

"See? I can draw the fórsa out of him! We're working on seeing if I can use it once I've got it. Of course," he said sadly as the light in his eyes faded, "I can't hold it long. So far I can't use any techniques with it, but Cian says it's early days." Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. Cormac seemed very impressed, and even Róise inclined her head with respect. Miriam was horrified.

It was the power of Solas's Reel, just implanted inside a person.

"Are you okay, Miriam?" Sol asked gently.

"I'm… yes, I'm okay," she said. Remember, he's a different person. Honestly, like a child, even if he doesn't talk like one.

"That… that is what the gem you took from me did. I was using it to lock down and divert two of my fórsa streams so I could use Life on the ship. That's how it had so much fórsa in it for you to assimilate."

"Oh," Sol said, thinking quietly.

"Maybe you can help me then. You might know more about what I can do."

"Uh… maybe," Miriam said, trying to avoid looking disgusted. She turned to Cormac.

"How was your training? Did you find an Adept class?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Cormac growled, suddenly embarrassed.

"He's gonna be Luck Nature, Saint Adept!" Róise called weakly from the fireplace chair. Cormac hung his head in his hands, shaking his head.

"Him?" Maitiú said, guffawing loudly.

"Saint Adept!"

"Yes, yes, laugh it up!" Cormac said.

"It's fine. It's just… slightly misnamed. We all know I'm not a saint, right?" Everyone sounded out a firm agreement.

"Right? It just means that I focus on techniques that apply luck to the benefit of other people instead of mainly myself." Cormac avoided everyone's eyes.

"That'll be the day," Maitiú muttered into his cup.

"But… that's terrible for the Walk," Miriam said.

"You'll be alone."

"Cian thinks that won't be a problem, but he hasn't told me why yet." Cormac shrugged.

"And you Róise? You look awful," Miriam said gingerly. The pixie made to put her mug to her lips, but saw how much the cup was shaking and returned it to her lap.

"I had to rip out my existing weave mesh." Maitiú and Miriam gasped. Cormac must have already known, because he simply shook his head. Sol didn't seem to understand why that was such a big deal.

"Róise! I didn't even know you could do that," Miriam said.

"Are you okay?" The pixie smiled defiantly.

"It's actually not that hard. It just hurts. Really, really badly. Tomorrow I'm going to start re-weaving the right pattern. It'll be worth it," she said, looking back into the fire.

"It had better be." Cormac nudged Miriam.

"What about you? Done throwing sludge yet?"

"Not yet," Miriam said.

"I reset my visualization methods so that it should be easier, but we haven't gotten the filtering to work yet. I'm hopeful about tomorrow though." A woman with the same sort of underwater hair as Luíseach arrived, bringing out some roasted vegetables and soup. She was a banshee, though for a creature that legends from her world had always associated with shrieks, was surprisingly shy and soft-spoken.

Cian had arranged for dinner tonight, but going forward everyone typically prepared their own meals unless someone felt like cooking for more. Conversation continued about their training, each asking probing questions about the others' methodologies. Róise seemed to have lost the aggression she had displayed the night before, replaced by a quiet resolve that Miriam suspected was the root of the concerned glances Cormac continued to shoot her way.

Maitiú still seemed grumpy when it came to Cormac, but otherwise was in good spirits - or at least had drunk enough to pretend. Sol was smiling broadly, which began to lessen some of the unease Miriam felt around him. He was a child, discovering the world for the first time. Full of hot food - perhaps the first real hot meal she'd had since arriving at the Tir - head fuzzy from brandy, it was no surprise that Miriam nodded off to sleep right there at the table.

Later she stirred briefly as she felt hands carry her to her cottage and place her fully clothed on her bed. There was a warm body beside her and she woke up enough to see that Róise had gotten under the covers with her. Maybe she had been too exhausted to make it to her own cabin. Or maybe like Miriam, she had rediscovered the long-forgotten comfort in the simple warmth of another person sleeping beside her. ✧✧✧ Interlude 4 When Miriam left the Isabella at the ports of Marybel, she had been quite low.

While she had made it to her destination, and paid Anton his jus t comeuppance, she wished she had departed the ship that had been her home the last two months in better standing. Quickly the glory of the Grand Old City washed all that away. She had never in her life known such color! Her life until this point had been the unadorned greens and browns of the untamed frontier, but here! There were riots of orange and rich blues, swirls of violet and crimson. And the smells!

During her time at sea her nose had been filled with nothing but the stench of sweat and the fishy sting of seawater. Now there were clouds of cinnamon, spiced wines, sugar and maple! She nearly lost her footing on the worn cobblestone, she was so distracted by a dessert shop selling mouth-watering strudel. The buildings were ostentatious and unusual. Right angles seemed to have become passe, so every door was bent and wrapped in some visage of a fantastical beast - dragons, griffins, fairies and goblins.

Each window stained glass, each roof a rainbow of painted clay. The city seemed to grow sculpture organically - few surfaces escaped an artist's firm hand. Still, she was not too awestruck to forget her own practical nature. Sympathetic shipmates had whispered warnings to her about the more touristy parts of Marybel which she took to heart. Her thin wallet of coins was nestled under her shirt, tied up in her undergarments.

Miriam was glad she had taken this advice - she felt nearly a dozen hands "accidentally" brush against her in crowds in subtle moves surely meant to relieve her of her funds. Despite having arrived in the morning the day soon darkened, and Miriam was forced to seek some form of shelter. The hotels she dared to trespass upon quickly shooed her away - dressed plainly in a wrinkled homespun dress she'd squirreled away in the bottom of her bag, it was obvious she would not be able to afford a room.

However, this was Marybel, and a tourist city didn't just accommodate the rich and noble. Not long after nightfall Miriam was grateful to be directed to what the locals called a "hostel" - really a squat house down an alleyway with two large rooms - one for men and one for women. The nightly fee was barely two marks, which gave her hope about surviving long enough to find gainful employment in this city. With her arrival the house was full, and the other tenants welcomed her warmly.

Here she would meet some of the best friends she would ever have, but at this moment they were all just kind strangers. And then there was him. She didn't know it yet, but that night she shook the hand of the first man she would ever love.