Forsaken by Shadows

Part 38: New Faces

~3. New Faces ~

Rismyn

"What are you doing here at this abominable hour?"

The voice cut through Rismyn's trance, jarring him from his blissful subconscious and returning him to the present. But though the voice was loud and startling, he didn't jerk awake.

Instead, he rose from his hypnotic state slowly, becoming increasingly aware of the world around him in little stages. The scent of moisture that clung to the cave, the sound of the Lirdvin river drifting along outside, deceptively calm. Finally, himself, seated cross-legged on a bench and dressed in his stiff practice armor.

He took in a deep, unhurried breath. In, then out, then opened one eye.

Beltel stood before him, arms crossed, wearing a disapproving frown as he stared down at him. It had to be Beltel, because if it was Belnir, he would have just let Rismyn be.

"Well, I was trancing," Rismyn replied, arching an eyebrow. Cerulean light leaked from the entrance of the cavern, reflecting off the polished black metal of the lockers that lined the smoothed stone walls.

"Yes, but why here?"

Rismyn shrugged, unfolding to stretch his legs and roll his neck from side to side. "Seemed like as good a place as any."

Beltel's frown morphed into a mischievous grin. "What, did the priest finally kick you out? Happy anniversary–I've changed the locks, don't come back?"

Beltel laughed heartily at his own joke, but fortunately, he spun away to his own locker, so he didn't see Rismyn's good humor evaporate. It might have been a joke, but to Rismyn, the words had touched too close to the nest of his deepest fears.

It was just a joke, he told himself firmly, forcing himself to remember the way Solaurin had embraced him just this Blue Light, telling him how proud of him he was.

But then his hand strayed subconsciously to the metal biting into his sternum, where Mazira's ring hung safely from a cord beneath his leather armor. Would Solaurin be angry when he found out what Rismyn had schemed? Togethering with Mazira seemed to be the unbreakable, unspoken boundary that he was not supposed to cross. Would his actions get them both kicked out?

No, no. He was being ridiculous. Rismyn had said and done far more vexing things during his time in the weaver's house than bare his soul to Mazira. If Solaurin could forgive that shameful shouting match, if he could tolerate the one–and only–time Rismyn made the mistake of coming home with far too much ale in his blood and not enough good sense, he could surely forgive a little romantic scheming.

The priest was, after all, a poet at heart. And weren't extravagant love stories the very thing poets loved most? At least, all the poems Mazira had taken to reciting to him, now that she had learned to read, seemed to be about such topics.

"Helloooo, Rismyn? Did you fall back into a trance again?"

Rismyn did startle this time, snatching his hand away from the where the ring was concealed and painting innocence on his face. "What? No. Sorry. I didn't sleep well. What did you say?"

Beltel rolled his eyes and briefly vanished from view as he pulled off his tunic. "Well that's part of the mystery solved; you didn't sleep well. Still waiting to hear why you're trying to amend that here."

Rismyn flushed, glancing away. "I didn't get kicked out," he said, sourly. "I left early to see Master Jasper since I won't be seeing him later this White Light." And then, because he didn't enjoy being on the defensive, he turned the question around. "What are you doing here?"