The Border City Ord 4

After reporting the completion of the request and getting paid for the job and materials both, Win rests in his room at the inn. He sits up in the bed, pondering his next steps. He’s only vaguely aware of the procedures necessary to pass into Pacaster, but even then he can only imagine getting found out and returned to his family. So that he does not yet need to face them once more, he decides that he’ll begin investigating the Pacaster side gate to see if he might be able to sneak away somewhere. He further readies himself to abandon Calliope here to allow for his escape.

As he thinks of that, he hears a knock at the door. Thinking it might be Anterus coming with something regarding the inn, Win opens it readily. However, rather than him, it is Calliope, already dressed to go to sleep. For just a moment he considers shutting the door on her, but he ultimately decides against it. He takes a step back and allows her into his room. She takes a step inside and shuts the door behind her. She opens up her notebook and shows it to Win.

“May I tell you my story?”

“Why would I care about your life story exactly?”

“It will help you understand the spirits.”

“You can’t use that on me again. I told you that I don’t like people, so I’d rather not be subjected to it. There’s not a single reason for you to tell me, either.” She turns back the page and points to something already written there.

“You’re kind.” Under that one line, partially obscured by her hands, are line after line trying to start this conversation, each crossed or scribbled out, only partially still legible.

“I’m not kind… but… I don’t even care enough to stop you, if you’ve set your mind to it.”

Win watches as Calliope begins to write. She writes quickly, crossing out her mistakes in her rush to the finish. Soon enough she pushes the open notebook into Win’s hands. He begins to read her story.

“I was born in a small, secluded village. I don’t know why, but there were spirits everywhere, and everyone was able to borrow their power. In the village, we called in Spirit Calling. I can’t borrow their power because I can’t speak to them.

When I was young, just five years old, my village was attacked. It was destroyed, and I was taken from my family. I was imprisoned somewhere, and sold into slavery soon after. I was brought to some mansion. But before anything could happen, the spirits intervened. I was saved by them, and I ran away. Since then, for the past decade, I’ve been alone. I couldn’t be around other people. I couldn’t stand being around them. I never spoke but to the spirits. The spirits would protect me, bring food to me, and that’s how I was able to live. I survived because the spirits were there for me, and even now that I cannot speak to them, they still let me survive. I was scared of the world, too scared to live, but they still kept me alive.

I stayed secluded in the forest, living in little makeshift huts. And a year or so after more people stumbled across me. I don’t know whether they would have actually hurt me, but I ran nonetheless. I ran away over and over, moving from forest to forest, always leaving at the first sign of other people. Eventually, I found that cottage. For some reason, nobody came near it. I was able to stay there for years.

But one day, when I tried to ask the spirits for assistance, I realized that no sound would come out. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t talk anymore. But the spirits stayed with me. Even though I wouldn’t be able to use their power, they helped me learn to write so well. Even though I owe them my life, I can’t even call out to them.

And then you appeared. You were the first person to actually try to bring me harm. But you were also the first person in so long to talk to me, and you apologized. When we were talking, I thought something might happen if I stayed by you. Because you are kind.” Win makes his face dark, unsure of what expression would rest on his face without it.

“If you came along with me hoping I would end up helping you speak, you would be better served leaving now. I have no intention of helping you in that way. I don’t want to hear you speak. I hate the sound of people’s voices. And I’m not a kind man. Just like all the others, all I want is to use you.” She continues writing, right under her story.

“Is that really the case?”

“It really is. We ought to go our separate ways.”

“But you still listened to my story, and tried to understand. You have no issue talking to me like this.”

“You have it backwards. I can only stand speaking to you like this. I would never be able to manage if I had to hear your voice.”

“Then, if it’s alright, until the day I regain my voice, may I continue to travel with you?” Win doesn’t know how to answer. He doesn’t know what’s in his heart. He turns away from her.

“I don’t care about what you do. Do as you please.”