Stories of Staria

“Excuse me.”

Daphne turned. It was Jonas. He was holding Talia’s hand. Max skulked behind him, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Daphne stepped away from the door. “You should have said something.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” He turned to Rosalind. “What you said was nice.”

Then he led the children through the door.

“Jonas!” the peddler shouted. “We’ve got all the heroes here now.”

“Sorry we’re late. We had to deal with the horses…and other things.”

“Talia doesn’t know how to use an outhouse,” Max snickered.

“I know how.” Talia blushed.

“We’ve been on the road for a while.”

“There are other girls here!” Talia brightened. “Can I play?”

Jonas let go of her hand, and she scurried off. Max began wandering the tavern floor.

Jeremy approached, holding little Atalanta’s hand. He pointed toward Jonas. “That’s the hero Jonas. He once got hit with ten arrows in his back.”

“Ten arrows!” The little girl marveled.

Atalanta walked up beside her protégé and bent down to explain to her namesake. “It’s true. But people always leave out the best part. Those arrows weren’t meant for Jonas. They were trying to hit the Little Prince he was carrying.”

She tapped the little girl’s nose. “But they didn’t hit him. Not once!”

Jeremy looked at Jonas apologetically. “I never heard that.”

Jonas shrugged. “Someone had to carry him.”

“But—” Jeremy searched for words. “Let me get you a pineale.”

“Thank you. But tea’s fine.”

“Tea it is.” Jeremy headed for the kitchen.

Jonas sat down next to Miranda at a large table surrounded by friends. The tavern was beginning to fill with other members of the old caravan, some already with families of their own.

Jeremy returned with two large pots of tea. Carla followed with two large trays filled with bread, cheese, and fruit.

“Carla!” Daphne bubbled. “You stayed at the tavern?”

“Why would she leave?” Jeremy deadpanned.

“You wanted to kick her out the moment she entered your kitchen.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sarah laughed. “As soon as I was pregnant with Miranda, his tune changed pretty quick.”

“It’s been good for me.” Carla chuckled. “After each baby, I get a raise.”

“One more baby, and I’ll be working for you.” Jeremy laughed.

“So, whose are the older ones?” Carla asked, eyeing the children. “You haven’t been gone that long—one of y’all been hiding young’ns that I didn’t know about?”

“Those are Miranda’s apprentices,” Jeremy explained. “Talia and Max. They’re both shifters.”

“Ha!” Artemis scoffed. “Call ’em what you want. They’re your kids, big guy!”

“Talia is an orphan. She is ours now. And we see Max’s parents when we can.” Miranda lowered her eyes. “It’s not ideal.”

“He’s nine years old and still alive.” Artemis slapped Miranda’s arm. “He’s only the second mana shifter ever to live that long. Sounds pretty ideal to me.”

“You make a nice little family, I’m sure.” Carla smiled.

“Food!” Little Miranda squealed. She rushed to the table, trailed by the other children, who soon filled the laps of the adults.

Atalanta laughed. “There won’t be anything left when the wagonmaster gets here.”

“Serves him right for being late.” Carla turned back toward the kitchen.

“She’s joking,” Sarah said. “We have plenty. Eat up!”

Carla returned with another basket of bread and settled into a chair.

“So, what happened to y’all when you went back to Staria? We heard all sorts of stories, but nobody ever told us what was true.”

Everyone at the table looked toward Atalanta.

“We found Miranda’s parents.”

Miranda smiled.

“They were alive?” Carla asked.

“They were. They became our first teachers.”

“We started a school in Staropolis,” Atalanta explained.

“A school?”

Miranda nodded. “After what happened with Count Ebelon, hundreds of people were no longer enslaved. But that wasn’t the same as being free.”

Atalanta looked around the table. “Our adventure on the trail with all of you taught us that.”

“Miranda’s parents are great teachers,” Daphne said. “That’s why she’s so smart!”

Miranda blushed. “Don’t—”

“It’s true—Doctor Miranda!”

“My parents do love to teach.”

“But how did you pay for it?” the peddler asked.

Artemis laughed. “The count paid for the first one.”

Carla stared at her. “The count?”

“More or less.”

“The count’s house fell?” Jeremy asked.

“More or less.”

“His widow is a teacher now,” Atalanta added.

Carla blinked. “She teaches?”

“She’s educated,” Miranda said. “She had two children and didn’t want to starve. We hired her. She’s good at it.”

“So she wasn’t that bad of a person?”

“She was a terrible person.” Daphne shrugged. “But she’s a good teacher.”

“Not wanting to starve—or be murdered by her students—is a pretty good motivator,” Artemis added.

“That ended slavery in Staria?”

“No,” Atalanta said. “But the king eventually ended it.”

“Why? How?”

Artemis raised two fingers. “Fear…and politics. Pretty much in that order.”

Atalanta glanced at her.

“What?” Artemis scoffed.

“You’re making it sound simple—it wasn’t simple.”

Atalanta turned to Carla with a smile. “After Ebelon’s abductions were exposed, there were a lot of unhappy citizens in Staria. The king was worried about what would happen next, so he freed the count’s slaves. But then the other slavers were furious. So they stole the Little Prince.”

“And you got him back?”

Jonas shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“Jonas has the scars to prove it,” Miranda said.

Carla looked at him. “He still has scars? But you’re a shifter.”

“Some things don’t heal perfectly,” Jonas said.

“I think some scars are rather attractive.” Miranda leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

Jonas turned red.

Daphne grinned.

“The slavers were defeated. The king abolished slavery after that,” Atalanta continued. “Not exactly for the most noble of reasons. But it turned out well enough.”

“And the schools?”

“Our adventures paid for the others.”

Carla looked at Miranda. “Others?”

She nodded. “Six more.”

Carla stared at her. “Seven schools?”

“So far,” Atalanta said.

“The first was for people who had been slaves,” Miranda explained. “The others filled up with children from all over.”

“Rich and poor together,” Atalanta said. “I think that’s good.”

“Plus, the extra coin is nice,” Artemis added.

Atalanta laughed. “No, the extra coin doesn’t hurt at all.”

The conversation dissolved into laughter again.

For a moment, Atalanta simply watched them.

Some of the children were already abandoning their parents’ laps for the mysteries beneath the tables.

Liam finally arrived, almost unrecognizable save for the worn book in his hand—Daphne’s last gift to him before she left him with the silversmith, five years earlier. She rose to greet him, and Max immediately seized his chance to steal her seat.

Atalanta threw him a disapproving glance, but he ignored it. Daphne and Liam found a table of their own.

The conversations continued around them. Max pretended to follow all of them, occasionally adding his thoughts to the chatter.

Then an old man near the bar began playing a fiddle. A young woman joined him on the flute.

No one needed to suggest what came next.

Tables were pushed toward the walls, and everyone left their seats. Children filled the center of the floor while adults danced around them, circling and switching partners.

Then the wagonmaster walked through the open door and was immediately pulled into the dance. He was followed by the rest of his clan—his sons, their wives, and children who hadn’t been there five years ago.

Elmira towed her young son toward the center of the floor. “Go on. Dance with the other children. You’ve been hearing about these folks your whole life.”

The boy grinned and joined the others.

Elmira hurried back to Atalanta and took her by the hand. “You’re wearing the dress!” she shouted over the music.

“I don’t get many chances to.” Atalanta laughed. “But it’s so lovely I wear it when I can!”

“Well, you picked the right night for it.” Elmira pointed toward the door.

Sir Donavan stood there. His eyes met Atalanta’s.

Elmira released her hand with a knowing smile.

Atalanta walked over and took his hand. “Tonight you dance!”

“I didn’t come this far to stand.” He chuckled.

And they danced.