Chapter 46 – Cold Feet

The harlots’ tents and a few wagons were set up at the very edge of the tent city, next to a horse pasture that bordered a dirt road. The trade was highly scandalous in Tulvian society, but reluctantly tolerated. Since it was obviously impossible to ban it entirely, a tacit compromise had apparently been reached: it would take place as far out of sight as possible.

Of course, it has to be far enough away to allow people to pretend they know nothing about it, but close enough that they can find their way there even after their third ale.

Shaelith had come here on a whim and had asked around for Gaudbert, and indeed, one of the ladies had pointed to one of the tents.

Gaudbert was unmistakably in there with at least two women and took what felt like an eternity. Shaelith had been waiting for almost an hour, and she couldn’t deny that the sheer length of his efforts and the remarkably varied sounds coming from the women in the tent had piqued her interest a little.

No one could claim he doesn’t have stamina. But if he doesn’t finish up soon, I’m going to break up the party.

Shaelith sat on one of the supply carts and waited, sighing. Although it was broad daylight, business was brisk among the harlots. Some men cast interested and sometimes even outright lecherous glances her way, but apparently the no-nonsense expression she’d put on was enough that none of the guys dared to approach her. Which suited her just fine.

The women waiting for customers in front of their tents and wagons didn’t seem quite as happy about her presence. A pretty, stocky woman in a tightly laced bodice with an enormous bust crossed her arms and whispered something loud enough for everyone to hear about “that purple bitch” to one of her colleagues.

I can’t really blame them. It’s probably really bad for business that I’m sitting around here like this.

She was just wondering whether she should simply pull Gaudbert out of the tent, come back a another time, or perhaps position herself a little more inconspicuously, when she suddenly heard a familiar voice that made her flinch.

“So, um, are ten silver pennies really enough?”

Benderast came walking across the horse pasture. Or rather, an attractive young redhead with dimples and bright eyes coming up just to his chest was practically dragging him along behind her.

“More than enough, my dear,” she reassured him, stroking his muscular upper arm.

Without even thinking, Shaelith quickly swung herself off the cart and pressed herself into the shadows behind it like a Rynalazel assassin.

What’s he doing here? I mean, I can imagine what he’s up to, but… what the hell?

The young woman stopped a few steps away from Shaelith’s hiding spot and looked around. “Maybe even enough to impress one of my friends… ah, there she is! Hey, Vanesse, look what I’ve got here.”

Benderast protested, but the elegant woman, perhaps thirty years old, with long dark hair and high cheekbones had already noticed them. Her face took on a feline expression as she sized up Benderast and approached him and her colleague.

“Well, hello there,” she purred, running her hand over Benderast’s chest. “The man of the hour.”

The redhead snuggled up against Benderast and looked up at him not at all innocently while weighing the purse on his belt with one hand. “You can have a lot of fun with ten silver pennies, but I think you can afford a little more. Have you ever had two women at once?”

Benderast blushed. “Um, well, strictly speaking, I-“

The older one, Vanesse, let her hand slide down to his crotch and expertly grabbed hold with such confidence that Benderast flinched briefly.

Judging by the look on her face, Vanesse clearly liked what she found. “Color me impressed! You definitely have what it takes to handle the two of us.”

That piqued the redhead’s curiosity, too, and she reached down as well. “Good grief! Did the Forge Father lend you his hammer?”

Benderast cleared his throat. “Well, I’m glad you like it, but… I mean…”

“Let me make you an offer.” A knowing smile appeared on Vanesse’s face. “For thirty silver pennies, we’ll both do whatever you want, for as long as you want. And besides… well, I’ll be damned, I don’t offer this to just anyone, but for a fine specimen like you, I’ll make an exception: You can even kiss me.”

Oh dear.

Benderast suddenly looked as if she’d dumped a bucket of water over his head, and the tent in his pants deflated as well.

“No,” he said quietly.

“What?”

“I… I can’t do that.” He took half a step back. “I’m sorry. It’s not… you’re… I mean, you’re hot, um… I mean, lovely. I-“

“Oh, really.” The sultry warmth in Vanesse’s voice vanished instantly, and the redhead sighed in exasperation. “Then why are you wasting our time?”

He didn’t seem to know what to say and instead simply raised his arms defensively and walked away, practically stumbling off.

“You weren’t that handsomeanyway.”

“And I’ve had bigger guys.”

Benderast walked right past the cart behind which Shaelith had been hiding, and she tried to move cautiously around it, pressed against the side, to stay out of his line of sight, but just at that moment he turned around to look back at the two harlots one last time. He stopped and looked directly at Shaelith.

Shaelith wasn’t very tall, and she tried to make herself even smaller, but violet skin and pale lavender hair weren’t exactly the best camouflage here on the surface. She wished she’d prepared a suitable illusion glyph that morning.

Not my finest hour.

“Shaelith?”

She stood up, brushed straw off her knees, and searched for a quick explanation that sounded less embarrassing than the truth. She couldn’t think of one.

“Hello,” she simply said instead.

“What… are you doing here?” He looked at her with a hint of panic on his face, his eyes wide.

“I’m waiting for Gaudbert. He’s still busy. Has been for a while.” She gestured vaguely in the direction of the animalistic moans and slapping sounds. One of the women in his tent was meowing now.

Benderast was trembling slightly and had trouble looking her in the eye. “Did you…? Um, I mean… I guess you heard everything?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.”

His embarrassment was almost palpable. He took a deep breath, and then it just poured out of him like a torrent. “I can explain this, please… I mean… the thing is, you gave me the tip to just get it over with, you know, with someone who likes me, but then I thought, where the hell am I supposed to find someone like that? Nobody I know likes me like that, except maybe the princess, but that seemed like the kind of idea you’d turn me into a mushroom for, so I thought, well, um, well, I mean, oh God, it was a stupid idea, that’s not how I-”  

She took a step forward and placed her hand on his arm to interrupt his torrent of words. “Benderast, you don’t have to justify yourself, really, you don’t.”

He looked at her and seemed to take a moment to realize that she was actually chill and also wasn’t about to make fun of him.

“Okay,” he simply said.

“Come on, let’s go back to camp. I can talk to Gaudbert another time.” Shaelith hooked her arm through his and set off, just as Shaeravyn did when things had gotten a little awkward but didn’t want to talk about it. Benderast let it happen, a bit shell-shocked, and together they headed back toward the market and the campsite.

~

The market was quite bustling, and Shaelith was surprised to suddenly hear someone calling out in Tulvian with an accent that was very familiar to her amid the babble of voices from the merchants and their customers.

“Try it, try it, dear humans! The finest moss wine straight from the caves of Myzelemaerlazin! Yes, you won’t find anything better, take my word for it! The finest moss wine! Try it, try it!”

A Shaeravyn! A young male Shaeravyn with the distinctive violet skin, dressed in simple clothes, carrying a small barrel on his back and equipped with a clever pouring device from which he filled small clay cups. His hair was poorly braided, and Shaelith could tell from the messages woven into it that he didn’t belong to a house.

But he clearly has quite a bit of entrepreneurial spirit.

He offered a moss wine sample to a small group of three nobles, who gladly accepted the offer. The Shaeravyn merchant patted them on the shoulder, beaming with joy and laughing loudly, and even grabbed one of them by the arm.

Shaelith winced. Two typical Shaeravyn mistakes at once. Shaeravyn were much more touchy than humans liked, and Shaeravyn men practiced a kind of classless camaraderie among fellow males. He probably didn’t even really understand that among humans, a man could be a high-ranking figure deserving of respect.

Indeed, the man whom the Shaeravyn merchant had grabbed by the arm didn’t like it at all. He was a stocky fellow with a coat of arms depicting two crossed swords above an anvil, and he shoved the Shaeravyn so hard to the side that he stumbled.

The merchant lost his balance, and a gush of moss wine spilled over the edge of the barrel onto the embroidered doublet of one of the other human nobles.

Oh no.

The human then grabbed the merchant by the shirt and shook him. “You insolent creature, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry, man, I lost my footing. Let me help you clean this up!” The merchant reached for the doublet and tried to rub the large stain away, only to receive a hefty slap across the face.

“Get your filthy fingers off me,” the nobleman snapped at him. “That doublet cost me two pounds. You will reimburse me, you little pest!”

The Shaeravyn merchant now crouched down and held his hands out in front of him defensively. “How… how many of those little silver coins is that?”

“Five hundred!”

“I… I don’t have that many.” The merchant swallowed hard. “But if you can wait until after the tournament, then-“

At those words, the human grabbed the merchant by his pointed ear, causing him to cry out. One of his companions drew his sword.

Oh no, you won’t!

Shaelith sprang into action immediately and activated her kinesis glyph, which glowed on the back of her hand, ready to send the human fool on an uncomfortable flight.

She stepped toward the group, around whom the crowd had already receded, and Benderast, who was just a step behind, also seemed ready to strike-

-when out of nowhere Prince Frambert stepped between the human nobles.

“Enough,” he snapped at them.

The three recognized him immediately. The one with the drawn sword turned pale and hurried to sheathe it.

“Tell me if my eyes are deceiving me! Three knights of the Triarchy, who have sworn to protect the weak and the innocent, are threatening an unarmed merchant with a drawn sword because he accidentally spilled wine on them?”

The three remained silent, not quite sure what to say. A dangerous glint flashed in Prince Frambert’s eyes. “Did my eyes not deceive me then?”

“No, no! A misunderstanding, Your Highness,” cried the one whose shove had triggered the whole situation in the first place. “It was just a misunderstanding!”

“I hope so.” Frambert examined the man’s coat of arms more closely. “I expect such misunderstandings will not happen again, Sir Foulbere.”

With an imperious wave of his hand, he motioned for them to leave, and the three obeyed amid muttered apologies and stiff bows.

Frambert turned to the merchant. “What is your name?”

“Darviz, luminous, um, Lord,” stammered the Shaeravyn. 

“I am Prince Frambert of Nalvine of the House of Bellevoir, son of King Gerarde. Should these men bother you again, go to the gatehouse of Bomfrey Castle and request an audience with me. I will have your name put on file there.”

The Shaeravyn blinked in astonishment and thanked him. But then he saw Shaelith over the prince’s shoulder, and his eyes widened even further. He bowed almost to the ground.

Frambert turned around in confusion and saw Shaelith behind himself, who was just letting her kinesis glyph fade.

Shaelith nodded at him and first addressed the Shaeravyn in her language. “Now stand up straight, Darviz. You’d better keep your hands to yourself. Humans don’t like it when you get too close to them. And not every man here is your buddy. Some are as influential as a matriarch would be among us.”

“I beg your forgiveness, luminous Daughter of Vyrnara. I haven’t gotten used to it yet. I-“

Shaelith cut him off with a gesture and then addressed the prince in Tulvian. “I thank you for protecting one of my own, Your Highness.”

Frambert bowed his head politely and respectfully. “I regret how one of your folk was treated here,” he said. “I will not tolerate this, nor will the Crowns. The Triarchy respects the Shaeravyn as allies and for their many virtues. Even if your… pragmatism-” he shot a scathing glance at Benderast as he spoke the word, “-sometimes seems puzzling.”

Then he bowed impeccably and exclusively to her and left.

Benderast stepped beside her and watched him go. “I really don’t get this guy.”

“Me neither,” Shaelith whispered.

~

Back at the campsite, the others were sitting around the fire eating stew and chatting animatedly.

“Oh, did you two run into each other on the way?” Mirrsoss asked as the two joined them.

“Yes,” Shaelith and Benderast said in unison, exchanging a quick glance.

Shaelith continued. “We walked through the market on our way back and had quite an adventure…”

She briefly told the others about the incident with the Shaeravyn merchant.

Grimbart shook his head. “That doesn’t really seem like he believes that conspiracy nonsense from Gwilet. So what’s his problem?”

“I’m determined to find out,” Shaelith replied in agreement. “I really need to talk to Gaudbert.”

“You still haven’t?” Thaelon asked in surprise. “Wasn’t that the reason you ran off in the first place this morning?”

“Yes. Something came up.” That was all Shaelith said.

“And you, Benderast?” Grimbart looked closely at Benderast. “Did you find a barber? I don’t see any change.”

“Oh, um, no,” Benderast stammered, “they were all too expensive for me.”

“I told you right away you should’ve let me handle it.” He patted his Chronosteel arm. “With the Contributor, I’m pretty fast with the scissors.”

“I’d actually rather keep my ears for a little while longer.”

“Don’t get sassy with me!”

“Weren’t you also going to think about what Benderast should do at the Largesse trial, Shaelith?” Thaelon interrupted the two before they could keep bickering.

Shaelith nodded. “I have an idea.”

Benderast and Grimbart fell silent, and Mirrsoss also turned her eyes and antennae toward her.

“I think Largesse isn’t just about generosity in the sense of wealth, but also about giving what you can. Gwilet may have money, but Benderast has friends. And I think we can be damn generous even without money.” She looked from one to the other. “Grimbart, you could fix things for people or something like that. Thaelon, you could, I don’t know, help them hunt. Mirrsoss, you can fly, for example. That’s extremely useful. Benderast, you can just carry heavy things or chop wood or something like that. And I can translate or use my sorcery. Let’s go out to the ordinary people of Bomfrey and do something for them.”

“THAT,” Honor thundered, “IS THE MOST NOBLE PLAN I’VE EVER-“

“A little quieter, please.”

“-the noblest plan I’ve ever heard,” Honor concluded, as softly as a rustle in the wind.

“Well, maybe, but there’s more to it. I want to give them something to dispel the rumors. If they see us for themselves and we do them useful favors while being friendly, that will count much more than any rumor they’ve heard.”

Benderast looked at Shaelith skeptically. “Do you think that’s enough to win this round against Gwilet?”

“No,” she said honestly. “But I don’t think the point is the only thing we need to win. We need to win hearts and minds.”