Chapter 2

Krarshe stood there, staring blankly at Lycia's mother, struggling to process the word. He must have heard wrong. "Umm..."

"No. I won't teach you. In fact, don't come near my daughter or me," she said, grabbing Lycia by the wrist and pulling her inside.

"M-Mom! What are you-" she protested.

"Were it up to me, I'd demand you to leave this village," Taliarrah said, looking at Krarshe as she reached back to push Lycia away from the doorway. "But, luckily for you, I don't have that kind of authority." She turned to go back inside but stopped. "And, if you dare do anything to this village, no god will be able to save you from my wrath..."

The door slammed shut.

What just... Krarshe stood there in shock. He could hear Lycia's voice arguing with her mother on the other side of the door. He waited a minute, clinging to the faint hope that Lycia would emerge and explain. But, when it was clear that no explanation was forthcoming, he let out a sigh and left.

Krarshe tried not to think as he meandered around the village but he couldn't help playing the response over and over in his head. Before he knew it, he found himself once again at the tavern he'd passed earlier. He opened the door to the familiar ruckus of a tavern, almost like The Easy Lute. Just without the familiar faces. He walked up to the counter and sat down.

"Oh, it's the elf boy! Did ya find them?" The taverner who had given him directions said, slapping the countertop.

Krarshe nodded. "Y-yeah. Yeah, I found them. Thank you for the directions."

"Any time!" she said with a big smile. "What can I get ya?"

"Uh, oh. Umm... Just whatever ale's cheapest. And have you any bread?"

"Bread? Sorry, can't say we do."

"Stew then?"

"That I can do! Rabbit fine with ya?" she asked.

Krarshe nodded.

"Right away then!" she said. Her wavy red hair bounced as she cheerfully strode into the kitchen.

Once she left, Krarshe turned to look over the patrons. There were quite a few, about as many as a busy night at The Easy Lute; not as many as when Giselle and Burmir were performing, but still quite a few for a small village like this. There was a lone server, a young boy, dressed in a simple shirt and trousers. Krarshe guessed he was younger than Tibault by his height alone.

A strange feeling rose up within him as he watched the server dancing around the tavern with his tray. He couldn't help but think back to Na'kika and Valerie. I wonder how Na'kika is doing. No doubt Val is cursing me. He laughed a bit before his smile melted away.

"Here's the ale. Stew'll be a few minutes," said the taverner, the clomp of the mug on the counter startling him out of his reverie.

"Thanks," he said, turning back around to the counter. He took a drink and set it back down again, staring into the brown liquid. What now? I wasn't expecting to get rejected. Maybe I should have... He took another, longer drink. ... I guess I can start over again. But to do it so soon-

"You okay, lad?"

Krarshe turned to see an older man taking a seat next to him, mug in hand. His curly hair was peppered with grey and the wrinkles on his weathered face told of a life of both joy and hardship. "N-nothing."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Lad, I've been around a long time. Met a lot of people. I can tell when something's bothering someone, and I know the best way to feel better is to talk to someone about it." He took a drink from his mug. "'course, if you don't want to, I can't make you. But I've been told I'm a good listener," he said with a slight nod and a smile.

Why is it I always find the meddlesome people? They're always the hardest to deal with. "Well..." Krarshe started.

"Marcel, don't ya be bothering my customer," said the taverner as she came out from the kitchen, holding Krarshe's rabbit stew.

"I'm doing nothing of the sort!" Marcel protested.

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes and then leaned in closer to Krarshe. "Ya don't have to entertain him."

"I swear on Teva's good will, I was just trying to help him, Esther! Truth is, he was making the same brooding face my son always made. About the same age he was, too," he said as he studied Krarshe. "Well, if not for being an elf, and likely being older than me." Marcel laughed.

Esther let out a sigh. "Sure, sure. Just don't scare him away. I'd like some of that city coin."

"City coin?"

"Ya didn't hear? Boy's from the city. Made a big fuss when he got here."

Marcel looked at Krarshe and pointed. "Oh, you're the Wanderer boy! I should have guessed. I swear to Teva, I'm not senile."

"Umm..." Krarshe turned to Esther but she'd already left back to the kitchen, leaving him alone with the peculiar man. "Wanderer boy?"

"Hooded figure, shows up around sunset. I'm sure you've heard the song."

"The Five Curses..." he muttered.

"Yeah, that one. Your arrival here was the first thing I heard about when I got here tonight. Right, Remy?" he called out to another patron, who responded by wordlessly raising a mug in Marcel's direction.

So tired of talking about this Wanderer... "Oh. Right. Yeah..." He trailed off, turning toward his stew, hoping Marcel would leave him alone with his meal.

"Ah! Where are my manners? My name's Marcel." He reached out a thick, burly hand.

Sigh. Meddlesome people. "... Krarshe." He grasped Marcel's hand.

Marcel hesitated a moment. "K- Kuh- Kl..."

"'Karshe' is fine. Don't worry, most people struggle with it."

"Karshe then!" he said as his grip tightened. Enough so that Krarshe could feel the leathery callouses scraping against his hand. He released his grip and raised his mug. "To new acquaintances!"

Krarshe reluctantly raised his mug.

Marcel rammed his cup into Krarshe's hard enough to splash some onto the floor and then took a swig. Krarshe seized the opportunity to grab his spoon and start on his stew, once again hoping Marcel would give him some peace.

"Ahh! Love a good ale! Esther! Another one when you can!" Marcel put his empty mug down on the counter and slid it away from him. "So, now that we're as good as friends, about that problem of yours..."

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!! Krarshe set his spoon down forcefully and again turned to Marcel. "Well..."

Krarshe explained the events that led him to this village, recalling his struggles at the academy while omitting as many personal details as he could. Marcel listened intently, never interrupting Krarshe.

"So you were hoping to have Taliarrah teach you magic?"

Is that her name? Krarshe nodded as he sipped his ale. "But she rejected me. Pretty harshly, too."

"Yep, don't be deceived by her fair beauty, she's not one for mincing words," Marcel said, raising his mug to his lips.

"Truthfully, I don't know what to do now. I don't really want to give up on magic, but I don't know of any other teachers. And going back to the academy is... Well, I don't think that would work." There was a moment's peace while Marcel guzzled his drink. Krarshe grabbed his stew and took a spoonful. Lukewarm now. Better than cold, I suppose.

Marcel put his cup at the edge of the counter again. "Esther! Another one!"

"How many ales ya up to? Going to drink the whole stock!"

"Bah! I haven't drunk that much."

Esther sighed. "I'll let ya have one more tonight."

"Blessings upon you, Esther." He turned back to Krarshe. "Listen. Karshe. If you really want it, you need persistence. Taliarrah has a good heart, she'll come around. I'm sure of it."

"Right..."

"Oy! Marcel!" another patron called from across the room.

"Oh, right! I'll be with you in a moment!" Marcel thumped Krarshe's shoulder with his hand. "Don't worry, lad. It'll work out. Hope the rest of your night goes well."

With that, Marcel departed to another table. Krarshe sat alone with his thoughts once again. And his stew. The Easy Lute's was better, he thought, hurrying to finish it before it got even colder.

He sat there for another hour or two, slowly drinking as he contemplated his next steps. The number of patrons slowly dwindled. After the initial rush, there weren't many new customers. It was weird for Krarshe to see, considering how busy taverns in Remonnet were most of the night.

When it got down to just a few left, the server boy came back out and climbed up on a chair. He cleared his throat and began singing a familiar song: The Five Curses. The remaining customers looked up at him, then took some large gulps from their mugs.

"Total is six copper roses. If ya don't carry roses, I can give ya an estimate," Esther said, coming up to Krarshe.

"Oh, sure," he said, fishing for his coin pouch. "Why's he singing all of a sudden?"

Esther smiled. "City folk... It's customary for Curses to be sung at closing time. Like a reminder and wishes for safe travel, ya know? I know ya city folk don't believe in those curses, but it's different around here."

Krarshe pulled out six copper roses but stopped. "Oh, how much for a room for the night?"

"Hmm? Oh, right, taverns in the capital usually serve as inns, don't they?" She gave a pained smile. "Sorry, but this isn't an inn. We just serve food and drink."

Krarshe's heart sank.

It must have been obvious because Esther quickly said, "But ya might be able to see if the stable'll let ya stay for the night for a copper. Not ideal, but at least it's shelter. They might even let ya stay for free."

Krarshe shook his head. "Thank you, but I'll be okay."

"Ya sure?"

Krarshe nodded.

"If ya say so, Wanderer boy. Stay safe."

Krarshe handed her the coins, pulled his hood up, and ventured back out into the night. Based on her recommendation of the stable, I don't think there's ANY inn here. Wonderful... He looked around at the mostly empty road, save for the few other customers who came out after him heading home. Well, wouldn't be the first time I've had to sleep on the ground. He made his way out into the woods, hoping to find somewhere out of the way to make his bed.

* * *

The morning came peacefully, with the gurgling of a nearby stream and the chirping of birds as they continued their preparations for the coming cold. The sunbeams shone through the orange foliage and found their way directly into Krarshe's face. He squinted as he stirred and pulled his cloak tighter around him before rolling back over. Dead leaves brushed his face and he could smell the dirt he laid upon. He shifted the cloak slightly so his face wasn't buried in the forest floor.

As he lay there, he could feel a tickle in his hair. At first, he dismissed it with a brush of his fingers. Another tickle started on a different part of his head. And then on the back of his neck. "Ugh..." Krarshe groaned as he sat up. He pinched at the tickle on his neck. "Great... I hate insects." He flicked it away as he started pulling other bugs from his hair. Then from his clothes. Before long, it felt like his whole body was covered in them. "I remember why I hate sleeping in the woods." He frantically itched and scratched at his body. The feeling of his skin crawling with insects dissipated for a moment only to return the next. "Guess I'll need to make use of that stream earlier than I thought," he said, standing up at last. "Hmm. At least this body doesn't hurt when I sleep on the ground."

The campfire he'd made last night was completely out, no embers remained glowing in the pile of ash and char. He'd have to remember to build the fire bigger tonight. He picked up his cloak and shook it out, sending a multitude of insects flying before hanging it on a low tree branch. The back of it was caked with dirt, but he'd already expected this and accepted it as a foregone conclusion.

The stream wasn't far, just a short stroll away from his makeshift bed. It was rather large for a stream, being deep enough that one could wade into it up to their knee. He found a large rock along the edge of the stream and began to disrobe, shaking out each piece of clothing before laying it neatly upon the rock. Once fully undressed, he stepped into the stream. The water was bitingly frigid, but he didn't have anything to heat it in so he'd just have to tolerate it. Once at the deepest part, he held his breath and fully submerged himself.

He gasped involuntarily. "Krun, that's cold!" He worked to get his ragged breathing under control as he stayed crouched, water coming up to just below his jaw. As his breathing slowed and the cold faded away, he leaned back. The cold stabbed at his scalp as it soaked through his hair. He stayed focused on his breathing, trying to keep it steady. Slowly, his head also acclimated to the icy water. "Ah, there we go."

He splayed out, heels still on the streambed as his upper body floated there. He ran his fingers through his hair repeatedly, making sure there was no dirt or insects left in it. Once done, he moved to his body, rubbing it to get any dirt off. Finally feeling cleaner, or what he guessed was clean through the deadened rubbery feeling, he lay in the water. Much better...

A loud shriek caught him off guard. He jumped up and turned to the voice.

"No! No! Don't stand up!" Lycia shouted as she covered her eyes with her hands.

Krarshe stood there, dripping in the cold breeze, and stared at her in disbelief. "Lycia? What are you-"

"NO! No. Put your clothes back on, then talk." She peeked through cracks in her fingers before abruptly turning around. "Please."

Krarshe looked down at his body for a second, then at his clothes on the bank of the stream, then back at Lycia. He chuckled to himself. "This is nostalgic..."

"W-what?"

"Oh, nothing," he said, remembering a similar situation when he first left home. Seeing someone naked really does bother people, doesn't it?

Krarshe dried himself off with his shirt a bit before pulling his clothes back on. He could deal with a damp shirt more than damp pants. "So, umm... Lycia. What were you doing here?" he asked as he pulled his shoes on.

"Just... Well, fetching water. I wasn't trying to s-spy on you! I swear, I d-didn't see a-anything," she said, face still bright red as she leaned over to pick up the pail she'd dropped. She made her way further upstream than Krarshe had been and dipped the pail in, the whole time trying to look away from Krarshe. "W-what were YOU doing here?"

"Bathing."

"I know that!"

"How? I thought you didn't see anything?"

She turned sharply toward him before turning a deeper red and turning back around. She splashed a handful of water onto her face. "No, I mean... The water's really cold."

"Oh trust me, I know."

"Then why would you...?"

"What choice did I have? Besides, it's not so bad once your body gets accustomed to it."

"Accustomed?"

"Yeah, when you get used to it, it stops being cold."

"Umm... Karshe. I think that's going numb to it..."

"Numb?"

"It's when your body gets cold," she said, pulling the pail out of the stream. "That's not a good thing."

"Really? That's what caused this feeling?" He looked at his hand as he rubbed his fingers together. Who knew the cold could make you numb like this?

"Yeah. You don't want to get sick, do you?"

"Sick?"

Lycia nearly dropped the pail. She stared at him for a moment. "Are... you mocking me?"

"What?"

"You're teasing me."

"No. I'd never do that."

"Uh-huh..."

"I swear!"

"Okay, okay, fine." She started walking. "So... Were you... sleeping out here?"

"Yeah. Wasn't aware there was no inn here..." he said, jogging after her. "Oh, wait a second." He ran over and grabbed his cloak before joining her again, pulling it around him to shield his damp shirt from the wind. "So, how much trouble am I in?"

"Hmm?"

"Your mother explicitly said to not come near you."

"Oh. That. I still don't understand why she acted that way. I figured she'd be overjoyed to have more students..." Lycia stopped and thought for a moment before continuing. "Well, she can't punish an act she doesn't know about, right?"

"So what you're saying is... we can have secret meetings...?"

Lycia stopped. "Y-yeah..." she said, tucking her braid behind her ear, face reddening. It was clear she hadn't realized what she was implying until he pointed it out.

Krarshe's face still felt like slime jelly, but he could feel it warming too. "W-well... I kind of... like... that..." Oh wisdom, what am I saying?

"I sh-should get going... My mom. She'll be w-wondering why I'm taking so l-long." Lycia picked up her pace.

"Y-yeah, me t-too. Or, well, no. Umm... I'll be at that spot again tomorrow. Clothed."

"O-okay. Until tomorrow then," she gave him a quick smile before running off, pail sloshing to and fro.

"Until tomorrow..." he said as he waved farewell. Krarshe could feel a smile spreading across his face. Oh, I can feel my face again. It must not be... numb, was it?

Cheerfully, he headed back into the village, hoping to find something for breakfast. What he'd do with the rest of his day, he wasn't sure. Truthfully, he didn't care. He just wanted tomorrow to hurry.