Among the Graves

[Derin Edala]

Derin nodded. Payment in services was preferable to payment in coin; it was something that she was used to, something that she understood. Derin could grasp the concept of currency, but she didn't think that she would ever be comfortable with it. It was basically a formalised system of value, a way to track and record debt owed in goods and services. If you had money, the world owed you a debt. You traded it for somebody's services, and then they took on the 'world owes me a debt' symbol. It made sense. It just wasn't a system that she could ever really trust. It relied on everyone else trusting that others would honour the symbol, after all. "As you wish." She leaned over to look at the dye. "What are you making?"

[Saruna]

Saruna was surprised at the sudden change in topic, but she warmed to it regardless. "Some simple linens. I wanted a few brighter shawls to wear," she said, opening the floodgate of weaving talk. If Derin didn't interrupt her she would talk at length about the types of dyes she'd found over the years that had the most intense colors, and stayed the longest without fading. She'd discuss the cheapest but sturdiest cloths, and how well they took different types and colors of dye.

It was a happy topic of conversation for her, and it pinkened her cheeks in her obvious pleasure to be sharing her craft with someone who cared about it, and maybe enjoyed it too.

It let her forget about Gustel, and what he represented.

[Derin Edala]

Derin listened to Saruna talk for awhile, nodding and asking the occasional question. She did know a little about weaving, but from an entirely different perspective; Derin had only worked with high quality goods and knew how to make vibrant, delicate pieces. Price and durability had not been a concern in her old life, and it was unlikely that such knowledge would be useful here.

No. If she would play a farmwife, she would have to learn to be one. It was sure to sink in after a few years. And since she was unlikely to find herself as lady of a manor again, it would be useful information for the rest of her stay.

She ran some thread between her fingers expertly. Unaccustomedly rough thread through unaccusomedly rough fingers. She'd never stitched with her calloused farmwife's hands before beyond simple repairs to her travelling clothes and regretted not keeping her hand in. Not entirely sure how Saruna would take the proposal, after awhile she expressed an interest in making some clothing herself. "It's been such a long time since I've worn anything but leather," she said wryly, tugging at a sleeve.

[Saruna]

"Then this will seem like paradise, making more comfortable clothes to wear." Saruna countered, smiling. She boldly started showing Derin various needles, and a few patterns. She offered suggestions on lengths, or colors, disappearing for a few minutes at a time to dig out previously made cloth to hold for Derin's perusal. She was becoming more and more enthralled with Derin, so much so that beyond lighting of lamps for her to continue pulling out buttons and wool, and cord and whatever else she had laying around, she did not notice time's passage.

"I'll be off for sleep. Uh. . .anything else?" Gustel stuck his head in the door, awkward and uneasy.

Saruna straightened from where she'd been leaning over Derin's work, inspecting it. For a moment she couldn't speak, seeing all the vague possibilities disappearing since Gustel's betrayal. She wanted to think he'd learned his lesson, and that he regretted his line of work. She wanted to think he liked it at her old house. She had wanted to take him in, too.

"No dear, I don't have anything else for you." She said. He bobbed his head and looked at Derin, something lurking in his eyes behind his carefully blank facade.

[Derin Edala]

Derin was absorbed in designing her dress and barely noticed time passing until Gustel came in. She only acknowledged his presence with a half-wave, a simple flick of the fingers that had been the standard way of acknowledging servants when forced to acknowledge them all in her previous life and realised, too late, that it could be construed as rude. She was going to have to unlearn a lot of old habits.

"I suppose I should turn in soon, too," she said. It was going to take awhile to get used to sleeping at night again. As for Gustel... well, there wasn't much more she could do except hope that he was out of their hair as soon as possible.

[Saruna]

Saruna agreed with Derin, though not without a vague little bunch of disappointment, and retired to her own room.

_______________________

Gustel had said he was going to sleep, but he was not sleeping. The idea of tiredness plucked at him, but it did not catch hold like it should have, for all of his exhaustive work during the day. There was too much to think about, too much to plan for. He had come to the cottage with the idea that he would, without remorse, ruin the lives of those who lived within. But upon the thought of leaving it, he wondered if he would then ruin his own.

In it, he couldn't help but think of his own past failures, that tugged at his wayward thoughts like will o' wisps, luring him over dangerous ground until he forgot his original purpose, his original goal. The image of his sister sprang to his mind, and his lips tightened grimly. Whether by intent or circumstance, the two women had drawn him into a merry quandry, one that he'd never been in before. Unless one speaks of failure.

But that wasn't fair, was it? He'd been a hardworking man. He'd done his best to do right with the world. But when the world ceased to do right by him, he'd had to find his feet in it or give up and croak out in a gutter somewhere, and leave his sister to whore herself in his passing wake, not that she could really even do that in her condition. He grimaced.

The coin sack lay accusing on his bed.

He needed the money. The whole world needed the money. It seethed with greed and cold survival, a veritable ocean ready to drown anyone not willing to do whatever they had to in the name of staying afloat. Everyone else drowned, eventually. It didn't matter how you did it: dead was dead. His mouth firmed as he took the money in his hand at the tail end of that last thought, and set it with his boots. He would tell the old man only that he had been cursed on the job, after he'd gotten the blood money to his sister. If that did Gustel in, so be it: he had made his choice. He would be gone from them before they awoke, as he settled in for a long vigil of waiting until they were asleep. There would be no chance of a reprisal.

Either way, the bitches would have to deal with the agile mind of the fat spider merchant of Marn, Hanser.

Let them see if their blood magic would be of use to them, then.

[Derin Edala]

Derin went to work the next day, came home, and immediately got back to work on her dress.

Even stitching peasant cloth was relaxing. She had gone with a simple pale yellow cotton skirt on a slightly darker blouse, modelled on a similar design to the girl she worked with in the kitchens. If she wanted to be accepted at all by these xenophobic people, she was going to have to dress and act like them. She decided to hem the skirt with embroidery, a train of daisies or something perhaps...

She hadn't seen Gustel since she had returned. She went looking for Saruna, to ask if he'd left for good.

[Saruna]

"Yes, he was gone before I awoke." Saruna said, carefully not looking at Derin as she worked at weeding her modest garden. She was very worried at the soundless exit the man had chosen to make, without a goodbye or other acknowledgment. He hadn't even taken the scones she'd baked for him. Perhaps he was angry at them? No good could come of that.

She opted for changing the subject, and ushered Derin back inside. "Now about that dress you're making. . ."

_______________________________________

The shushed clinking of the bishani Gustel had bargained his life on mocked him with every step. It was the most bishani he'd ever carried in one centralized location on his body, but he had not dared to touch them. It was almost as if by touching them he would solidify the thread the witch-mage had made to him with her wild claims of cursing him with blood magic. But with that extra bishani, and the bishani Hanswer would give him -- they could get out. They could travel with a caravan, and he would finally, finally be able to take her to someone who could break the magically enhanced wasting illness that had plagued her since two summers ago. But only if she would make it that far.

He reached Hanser's step on the cusp of early evening, empty of the cursed coins, having lain them by his sister's bedside without waking her. He'd then spent time lollygagging in taverns, watching the flow of other peoples' lives and wondering how it might be to become someone else for a day. Now that he was at this stage, he found himself so much more nervous than he had expected he would be. He had taken his life into his hands -- with those bold actions, shouldn't he be unafraid of the world?

Yet he faltered, nervous of what the old man would say, and frightened of how he might die, should the curse take exception to his words. He was sweating, shaking, dancing scared like a drug addict with no way to claim a next fix. He drummed the fingers of one hand on the side of his leg. He had lied to Saruna and Derin. He had no magical ability to sense peoples' intentions; he was merely exceptional at reading people by normal standards, and he'd never been able to read Hanser. The only magical grace to touch him was his supernatural sense of others' magical ability, and even that was only like a faint scent that he might track. He still had to see the magic to confirm its presence. Gustel was glad for this, for otherwise he feared he might be collared like a dog by the guard, and never get out of the damned city.

He hesitated once more, but took a deep breath to steady himself. He knocked on Hanser's door.

[Derin Edala]

"Come." Hanser knew who it had to be before the man entered. He felt a thrill of... what? Anticipation? Guilt? Did he even want to hear what Gustel had to say?

He'd known Saruna for a long time, and although he didn't have any particularly special feelings toward her, she annoyed him less than most of the people he was forced to interact with. She'd always been such a nice, clean-living woman, tainted only by her association to her now-dead magical father. But she could hardly be blamed for that.

Until she'd brought in that new girl, that traveller. For Saruna's sake, Hanser hoped that he'd been wrong about her, that Gustel would tell him that she really was as nonmagical as she'd claimed, but even then her interest could be dangerous. It was that interest that had worried him, really.

And Hanser was rarely wrong.

To protect Marn, he may very well have to doom a woman for daring to be kind to a strange traveller. Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

Hanser looked up as Gustel entered. "Do you have anything for me?"

[Saruna]

Gustel felt an answering shock of uneasy anticipation as he opened the door, and felt the shackle of his allegiance to Hanser encircling him tight.

He dared not speak the full of the truth he had discovered, but to bandy words with Hanser would mean a longer death at the hands of Marn itself. He was not sure what angle he feared more, but in the end his resolve hardened further. He owed loyalty to none but himself, and only he would see to his own survival. So be it.

The cold sweat dampening his back did not so easily agree to his calculated risk.

"I have spent time with the women, Saruna and her companion Derin. Saruna is . . . treading dangerously. Derin claims to be a farmwife, but appearances have always been deceiving. Neither of them seems to be magically dangerous to Marn."

His throat tightened. A dismal, dismal report. He had always been known for brevity, but so then for a necessary amount of detail.

"But, as an added aside -- I seem to have been cursed in my investigation." He said it mildly enough, as if it was entirely unrelated to either of the women.

Hope and bitterness squeezed him tightly.

[Derin Edala]

Gustel's last, offhand remark caught Hanser just as he was beginning to relax. He frowned. "Cursed?" Being an informant was always dangerous, but Hanser had basically said that the women were harmless, if bearing further watching. "What happened?"

[Saruna]

Gustel appeared to pick his words carefully. "It'd seem I was discovered. No one likes being caught."

[Derin Edala]

Hanser watched the man silently for a long moment. He knew how information worked, and it didn't take a genius to figure out Gustel's predicament. He was clearly withholding information. He was discovered; 'nobody likes being caught'... some sort of geas that stopped him from revealing information, then. How frustrating. Being discovered was a serious matter; Hanser needed to know the details to know if it was going to render Gustel useless in the field, or if Hanser himself had been compromised. Furthermore, anybody who would curse somebody over such a matter was somebody that the Guard would be very interested in.

Hanser had to learn what had happened. He made sure to choose his words carefully. "Perhaps you should give me a quick rundown of your movements since we parted company last."

[Saruna]

Gustel nodded, relief evident in the way he ran his fingers along his forehead to clear hair from his face. "I pretended to be a refugee fleeing Marn on suspicion of magic use. I was . . . harbored by Saruna. Derin was suspicious, but she believed I might. . .help her. She wanted to find something. In the graveyard. In Shim." Each sentence was hurriedly said, but composed between long pauses, as though a thorough internal examination was being conducted. "We went to the graveyard. She. . .I helped. I became a little overexcited. They grew suspicious. They took me back to Saruna's home. I was questioned. They didn't like truth, as I spoke it. They. . .took measures.

"They did not like the idea of me speaking. Here. I left. Here I am."

[Derin Edala]

Hanser nodded. Impressively descriptive information that didn't, judging by the man's lack of distress, trigger the curse. Gustel's family seemed to have bad luck in that department, but he didn't comment; Gustel probably didn't know what a close eye Hanser kept on his sister and there was no need to unnerve him.

So did Gustel mean it when he said that the newcomer wasn't a danger to Marn, or was that his curse talking? Hanser couldn't take that chance. He also had Saruna on two counts of knowingly harbouring illegal magic-users, and kind-hearted or not, that tendency was going to get somebody killed eventually. The next step was obvious.

Before he spoke to the Guard, though, he needed more details. "Do you know anything about the nature of this curse?"