The Spinner's Web [Solo]

[Sagequeen]

Solo. Takes place in Anebrilith, but I'd like to invoke training forums/Writers' Workshop if I may. Thanks!Also, you'll notice several recent edits. The content hasn't been changed; my italics didn't copy/paste and I haven't caught them all yet.

1.

"Mother,

I miss the days I spent with my brother. He was the light in our lives, a fine brother and son. Seven years my elder, Tanus was more of a father to me than our own, who could hardly be wrenched away from his political meddling. When Tanus died, so too did the Erissa that existed only in his company.

I despise how Father plotted. The time he spent with Tanus was little more than grooming him for an expected future. Surely you recall Father's reaction when Tanus rejected the magical study and opted instead to join the Tel Aglarim. 'A common soldier,' Father said with such disdain as to cause one to think he'd choked on some bitter thing. His purposes were not well suited and his strategy quickly shifted. When Father's eyes fell upon me, I was acutely aware, even at that age, that the bothersome little one was being measured and weighed. For what purpose I did not yet know, but now it is all very clear. I wonder how how much you knew and when?

I will not be a second-rate pawn for my father's political maneuvering. He spent his son early -- not for the honor of the High Elves of Raiaera -- but so he himself would have the honor of military contribution and a cloak of grief under which to maneuver. With his magical prowess, it was cowardice alone that kept my father among his books to offer Tanus in his stead. I, however, refuse be spent by any will other than my own.

Doubtless my actions seem drastic. But this is the only logical choice for me. Mother, what would you have me do? Weave outrageously expensive and meaningless baubles for the self-important hierarchy to win their approval? Vanity! Bow to my father's every beck and call as he moves and manipulates every aspect of my life for his benefit? I would sooner cast myself from the highest tower I could find. There is no life for me here. I am dead and dry as the Black Desert. Wherever I go and for whatever reason, I go to find hope. I go to honor the life of my brother instead of mourning his death from within my own crypt.

--E"

[Sagequeen]

2.

Even as gentle morning broke over Anebrilith, the sun riding its familiar path with no regard for the veil of clouds that dappled his light on the lands below, she worked. The High Elf's hands moved furiously, a blur that steadily produced a flawless shimmering cloth that pooled around her slender legs like a silken pond frozen mid-ripple. She did not worry about practicing her trade openly in the tailoring hall. Should any wish to know the secrets of the Tarsul family's fine cloth, they would not learn simply by watching. Erissa Tarsul-Caedron was trained by her mother in a long, proud tradition that spanned generations, since before the high elves crossed the sea. Though the cloth was not fit for combat, it was unequaled in beauty. She swept aside a lock of silver-sheened white hair that had fallen across her forehead and stretched her arms high above her head, allowing the supple cloth to flutter and trail the well-scrubbed floor of the weaving room.

Satisfied with the quality and amount of cloth, she returned to her measurements. Her scissor sheared cleanly and she coaxed the cloth into the outline of a stylish dress. Nimble fingers stitched tiny seams, and a careful eye gaged the plunging neckline and slit hip. Erissa removed a small pouch from her satchel. From it she took several glinting gems set in a fine platinum metal. Guilt sat like a boulder in the pit of her stomach; she wondered from where –or whom– the finished gems had come. Nevertheless, each gem was placed carefully and attached virtually invisibly to the dress. She sighed. Another order completed.

What vanity, she thought, that in times of war and shortage there is a demand for such meaningless costumes. Shaking her head, she carefully hung the dress with help from her assistant Arienne. Erissa heard shuffling, uneven footsteps approaching the doorway. The lower half was darkened by a plump figure, bandaged across his left eye. With his good arm he tossed a blood and grime-soaked bag at Erissa's feet. She recoiled from the filth.

"This dwarf is finished. No more. Price is double after what it took to get these," he growled. Seeing his condition, Erissa decided that breaking even would be acceptable on the next few orders.

"Arienne, please take these materials and clean them," Erissa said, loathe to dirty her hands. She still had a great deal of cloth yet to handle. "And pay him what he has asked." The assistant quickly counted and filled a small leather pouch with gold. "Also, take him to the healer and pay for his treatment. Give him whatever food and drink he requests for a sitting."

"Are you sure? He's a dwa--" the assistant began in a whisper.

"Do not question me," Erissa said sharply. She did not share the same prejudice held by many of her peers. Arienne quickly guided the dwarf away from the looms with materials in hand. And what would you think of me now, Tanus? Erissa wondered to herself, hands working of their own accord across the loom. Your precious little sister, the one for whom you'd have given your life. The one who brought about your calling? It was my fault -- I brought this upon us, and there was no place for a warrior in our father's plans. If only I'd stayed within the walls. If only... she trailed away in a well-worn monologue. At mid-day, Arienne returned.

“Milady,” Arienne said, “I took the liberty of posting another job listing.” Erissa nodded, and worked the rest of the day away, not stopping for a meal. The supplies brought by the dwarf dwindled quickly. Erissa slept little that night, and awoke again before the sunrise to continue her work. Taking stock of her supplies and the orders she needed to fill, Erissa quickly realized there would not be enough. She sent Arienne to the market to check prices and then to the city boards to see if anyone was in search of work. Shortly after a figure slipped through the doorway.

"Arienne, what is it? What have you forgotten?" Erissa snapped.

"I do hope your skills far surpass your manners," the stranger replied, eyebrow cocked. Erissa turned quickly to face him; before her stood the envoy of the High Priestess.

"My apologies. How may I be of service?" Erissa answered, cooly hiding her surprise. The envoy sniffed and haughtily inspected the public hall.

"As you know, the influx of foreigners has placed a great strain on our supplies," the envoy began, at once intensely interested in the condition his fingernails. Finally, looking down his nose at her, he continued with his slow and maddeningly calculated speech. "The High Priestess requires a new ceremonial gown, and coincidentally, her favored tailor has taken ill. Your name has been mentioned by a number of influential individuals, and she has requested your services. This could be... quite the opportunity for you, as the High Priestess appreciates one who can deliver... consistently." Erissa nodded slowly, speechless. "Very good. Here is the pattern. She requires the gown in five days' time. It would be a shame if you were unable to complete it, for as I mentioned, several influential High Elves have vouched for you." The stranger spun on his heel and walked swiftly away before Erissa could respond.

"Five days! There is no way!" Erissa whispered as she paced the room with pattern in hand, shaking her head in disbelief at the level of detail and sheer amount of cloth and ornamentation that would be required. "I will never find another hireling in time! My reputation will be ruined! My mother's good name will be put to shame! All is lost." Erissa slouched down in a nearby chair, and tears began to well in her eyes, a rare sight among elves. Birds chirped happily in the eaves, carelessly flitting in the sunlight. They took to flight with a flurry of wingbeats as footsteps echoed near.

[Sagequeen]

2 cont'd

"Hey, can you tell me where the armorsmith is? I've been wandering around here for -- oh. Hey, are you alright?" A tall man stepped into room. His messy brown hair dripped with sweat, and in his elbow he cradled a scratched and badly dented helm. Large, well-formed sheets of metal covered his chest and legs, scratched and spattered with an unidentifiable, noxious substance.

A look of genuine concern was etched upon his stately and charming features. He looked to be in his late twenties. Erissa struggled to gather herself, but not before a single tear slipped down her cheek. Hastily, she wiped it away and rose from the chair. She did not look directly at the man, but instead busied herself arranging her materials.

"I'm fine, thank you. As you can see, these are looms. We do not work with metal here," she said. The man took a step closer, and Erissa balked. "No! Please, do not come near the cloth! You are filthy!"

"Well, excuse me," he said. "I did just get back from defending the innocent, freeing the oppressed... that sort of thing." A mirthful smile touched the corners of his mouth.

"I- I'm sorry," Erissa stammered, feeling unusually vulnerable.

"It's alright, I am filthy! I guess it's blood but it's more like a glue that never really dries. Nasty undead," he muttered, picking at what appeared to be bone fragments caked on his breastplate. He paused a moment and smiled as Erissa avoided his gaze. "Come now, tell me what's wrong. Maybe I can help. Besides, it's strange seeing a High Elf cry." Erissa afforded herself a quick glance at him as she arranged her material, but found her eyes drawn to him again. There was an obvious lack of an indentifying emblem on his armor, but his hazel-eyed gaze was electric and knowing. She felt compelled to answer him.

"As you can see, I create fine garments for the more affluent members of society. And, as you no doubt know, we are suffering a shortage of the various materials I need. Normally, this is no issue; I hire assistants to do the gathering for me. However, moments ago I learned that I have been 'recommended' to create an especially important piece. Important enough that my entire livelihood rests on the outcome. And my hired assistant just took his leave of me." She chided herself for giving so much information.

"That is a problem," he said.

"Although," Erissa said with an edge, "I have my doubts a mercenary would be interested in the type of employment I offer. The pay depends on what you deliver, no advance." Virlas nodded slowly, feigning deep thought. Punctuating the air with a final nod of certainty, he spoke.

"You know, it just so happens I am between jobs. Call it a vacation. Lucky for you, maybe?” He leaned in close to Erissa and she uncomfortably shifted her weight away.

“Well, I --” Erissa began.

“I bet you pay well, don't you?" The man raised his eyebrows and offered a smile.

"Of course," Erissa said, still leaning back. He relented from his forward posture to Erissa's great relief.

"My name is Virlas. Don't worry, I don't expect you to shake my hand." Erissa's frown was almost imperceptible. Hiring this one would go against her better judgment, but she was undoubtedly against a wall. He would be less breakable than a drunken, down-on-his-luck dwarven smith, she thought. And it is for a short time only. After a moment, she continued.

"But there is a limit to what I can pay. It depends on--"

"Just pay me what it's worth to you."

"That is asking a lot," she replied. Valtis gave a light-hearted laugh.

"Then pay me what you think is fair," he said, shrugging. "Is that a list there?" He reached across the table toward the priestess' pattern and Erissa sucked in a quick breath. "Oh, right. Just write it out for me. I'm short on paper and ink at the moment," he said with a wink. Erissa raised an eyebrow, then penned a list for him in her delicate script as he fidgeted with his helm.

"Please, my time to create this is very short - five days. My work alone will take at least two days," she said as she handed him the list. Virlas look at it closely, brows furrowed.

"Snake leather?"

"Swan feather, swan feather," Erissa said, "Do I need to write it again?"

"No, I got it," he said.

"Are you certain?"

"Sure." Virlas waved the list nonchalantly in the air and strode out the door.

"Down the path to the right, second door on the left," she called after him, poking her head through he door.

"What?" he asked with a confused smile.

"The armor smith," she said, "is down the path to the right, second door on the left.” Virlas nodded as he shot her a boyish grin and waved a farewell. Erissa watched him walk away until he was out of sight. She shook her head. Arienne shifted uncomfortably in the back of the room.

[Sagequeen]

3.

"Erissa, if you pace any more you will wear a hole in the floor and drop straight through it," her mother Shayla said, as she lounged in the luxurious common room in Caedron Hall. "What in Althanas has made you so anxious, and why are you not at the looms?"

"I am awaiting materials for an important order," Erissa replied. "The High Priestess has requested I craft a ceremonial robe for her."

"Oh! That is wonderful news!" Shayla exclaimed, pleased for Erissa. She'd long since retired from the profession, having passed down the legacy to her daughter.

"Perhaps-- if I were not completely drained of supplies and relying on a new hireling, a mercenary at that, to bring them to me. I have been forced to put my other orders on hold for the sake of material," Erissa cast her eyes down at the floor.

"Oh, dear. When must the robe be completed?"

"Five days. I have five days, and the pattern is beyond anything I have created before. The work will take at least two days, and I hope my hireling gives me leeway."

"Erissa," her mother said, "I have no doubt you can complete it. Your skill has far surpassed mine and any other tailor if you want my opinion. But... a mercenary?"

"My other hireling walked out before the envoy arrived," Erissa said. "So I was left with no choice. I have since searched for others, but there were none available." Her mother nodded.

"Be careful, Dear. They are a questionable sort. Some are valorous and honored in battle, but most are very lonely souls drifting from city to city, town to town. They have seen things that would drive a civilized person insane with the sheer horror, and some of them are the perpetrators of such acts. Would you like me to accompany you when you expect him to return?"

"No, Mother. I don't know if or when he will return. But thank you," Erissa replied gently.

[Sagequeen]

4.

Staring out under the drifting sun, Erissa was the picture of calm grace, though she was in reality near-crazed with her lack of activity for the past two days. Her sleep had been miserably restless. She gazed out across the eastern seas beyond Anebrilith, and glanced at a poorly-dressed man with a sack cast over his shoulder walking along the path. All these refugees... will the wars never end? She sighed.

“Hi there,” he said. Startled, Erissa took a closer look, not sure if she recognized him.

“Virlas,” he said, cocking his head to the side with a slight smile. “I thought I should clean up a bit before delivering your goods.” He stretched out his arms and glanced down at his shirt and trousers. He seemed not to care they were an abrupt contrast to Erissa's fine attire.

“Oh, yes! But my, that was quick...” she trailed off, wondering if he had shorted her. She glanced around nervously at the empty area. “Why don't we continue this at the looms. Arienne is awaiting me there.”

“Yeah, she said I'd find you here,” he said, and escorted her through the city to the tailoring hall. Arienne was waiting patiently inside and offered the two iced water, which Virlas gladly accepted. "Ice," he said, smiling and regarding the small cubes in his glass with great pleasure.

“I will gladly pay a bonus since you were able to recover the items so quickly. Arienne, please tend to the numbers and add an additional ten percent for his efforts. Virlas, please make yourself comfortable,” Erissa said, offering him a chair.

“Thanks,” he said as he flopped down and hung a leg over the arm of the chair. Erissa was shocked by his uncouth behavior but said nothing. She opened the sack of goods and was surprised at the quality and cleanliness. Curious, she turned the satchel over and dumped the goods on the table before her. Virlas watched her with amusement. Resting his elbow against his knee, he masked a smile with his hand.

“Oh this is...” she began, speechless. She was relieved the gems were in the rough, despite the time it would take for them to be cut. She also found the precious metals packed away separately and melted down into rough lumps.

“It's all there, don't worry,” he said, toying with her.

“I should say so, and then some,” she replied as she turned to look at him with eyes wide. “How were you able to get all this, and in such a short amount of time?”

“Just lucky I guess.”

“Arienne, wait. We'll have to go through this and get another figure,” Erissa said. “There is much, much more than I had anticipated and I will need to determine the value..”

“No,” Virlas said. “Just pay me what you'd already figured.”

“I could not. You have brought back all I will need for several orders and have removed me from what I believed to be an impossible bind. Please allow me to show my gratitude.” Erissa began to sort through the items on the table.

"Noooo... just stick with the agreement we made. You only asked for a few things, so it wouldn't be fair if I charged you extra." Virlas stood and smiled. "Tell you what... if you let me continue working for you, we'll call the rest even, okay?" Erissa abruptly stopped sorting the items, and looked Virlas from head to toe as he happily crunched ice in his mouth.

"For the second time, you have made me an offer I find very difficult to turn down." She fingered a perfectly clear gem she rarely had the privilege of handling, even in her line of work. "But I do not understand why. Your actions make no sense to me."

"What, being nice?" Virlas asked with mock incredulousness. "If you'd rather I just take the gold and go, that's fine."

"No," Erissa said quickly. "I apologize. Too much time within these walls, pondering the motivations of those around me has left me rather suspicious."

"It's okay. Really, I can't stand it here. No offense of course, but it's boring and I'd rather be doing anything besides walking around all day looking so serious like everyone else." Virlas laughed. A corner of Erissa's mouth involuntarily twitched upward in amusement.

"Well, still, I insist you allow me to thank you properly. Perhaps some new clothing?" Erissa asked.

"If you really want to," Virlas replied as he shrugged. "So... just get another list ready for me I guess. I'll stop by tomorrow to pick it up." Erissa nodded, and smiled. The smile was a little forced, but it felt good.

[Sagequeen]

5.

Erissa took a few steps back, and compared the pattern to the gown she'd made. The lines were exquisite, the precious gem settings flawless. The cloth shimmered in the slightest light, and there was not a single uneven seam nor loose thread to draw the eye.

"Perfect," she said, very pleased. "Perfect. Arienne, send word to the High Priestess that her gown is completed and I will deliver it at her leisure."

"Yes, mistress." Arienne hurried away to deliver the message, and Erissa set to work on another garment. An hour passed quickly with the great weight lifted from her shoulders. Her mind wandered on the possibilities before her as she dyed a bolt of cloth.

"Impeccable!" said the envoy, startling Erissa who was focused on her stitching. Arienne slipped into the room and out of the way. "I must say I am very surprised by this. How did you manage to find gems of such quality?" Not waiting for an answer, he escorted Erissa, robe in hand, out of the room. "The High Priestess is waiting. I suspect she will be very pleased."

[Sagequeen]

6.

Once again having enough materials to meet her orders, Erissa worked tirelessly at her looms. In the corner hung a very fashionable suit awaiting its owner.

"Do you think he'll come back?" Arienne asked. She looked longingly at the doorway. "I don't get to see men often, human that is. Reminds me of home..." she said, a longing and faraway look settling itself on her dark, angular features. Always stuck in this room or the kitchen... she thought.

"Well, I do hope so. I will be running out of materials soon," Erissa said. Her concentration momentarily broken, she attempted to make conversation with the assistant. "Remind me of where you are from again?"

"Underwood, ma'am," she replied.

"Yes, that's right. A nice little village in Corone, very quaint. I passed though there once. Do you have news of your family?" Erissa asked.

"Dead actually. The civil war," Arienne said flatly. "That's why I'm here."

"Oh, I... forgive me." Erissa chided herself for not remembering, but Arienne was no longer listening. Her attention was focused on the man in the doorway.

"Glad I found you here, seeing as how your job was on the line and all. I guess it went well?" Virlas asked.

"Let me get you an iced water," Arienne interjected, her mood at once lifted as she bustled across the room.

"Yes, indeed," Erissa said. "The High Priestess was exceedingly pleased. Though I am afraid I have set the standard very high with such quality materials."

"I'd bet the skill had more to do with it," Virlas said with a chuckle.

"Not to mention," Erissa said, "I have been able to complete most of my orders with what you brought. I cannot thank you enough."

"It's nothing," Virlas said, "You just have to know where to look--"

"Here," said Arienne, interrupting him. "I hope you like it. Made the ice myself. Oh! We have something for you --" she immediately went silent, realizing she had spoiled the surprise. Her eyes darted to Erissa who regarded her curiously.

"A gift?" he asked.

"Well, not exactly a gift," Erissa corrected. "It is the garment I promised you in lieu of gold, since you would not accept it. There," she said, and gestured toward the garment hanging nearby.

"Oh, that ah-- well that's very--" he cleared his throat,"sparkly-- er, nice. Yes, very nice. Thank you?"

"I am glad you like it," Erissa said and an honest smile graced her lips. "This is the same pattern --of my own design-- once worn by the esteemed Arikor. No doubt you have heard of him?"

"Oh, sure," Virlas answered, absolutely clueless of Arikor's identity. "This is... this is great. I could wear it to the... tavern... later, I guess..." He awkwardly tucked it under his arm. "So, how about that list?"

"Yes, of course," Erissa said. "I have prepared it. I hope it is not too much, but after your previous performance, I thought you would have no trouble with such an order. Of course this time, I insist you allow me to pay you also for whatever extra materials you bring. I will use them all." Erissa handed Virlas the list, and as his hand brushed against hers, he paused for a brief moment. Watchful, Arienne frowned.

"If you insist," Virlas said, clearing his throat again. "I'll get right on it. Thank you for the iced water, Arienne."

"A-any time," Arienne said, smile replacing the frown and stomach fluttering wildly. He remembered my name.

"By the way," Virlas said with an odd look, "I should probably know the name of my employer."

"Erissa Alanorah Tarsul-Caedron," she said over her shoulder as she continued her work at the loom. "Personal Tailor to the High Priestess, with thanks to you."

For several weeks their arrangement went very well; Virlas always delivered beyond expectations. Erissa was quickly becoming a sought-after finery tailor in the city. As his visits increased in length, Erissa's mother took notice.

[Sagequeen]

7.

"Ma'am, your new looms have arrived," Arienne called out to Erissa from the long central hallway at the heart of the richly-furnished Caedron Hall. "They're a tad bigger'n I'd expected. Look heavy, too." In her surprise Arienne had forgotten her proper speech.

Erissa packed away the last of the small items from the now-empty room. Pleased, she was eager to have her own personal looms. Turning to the couriers, Erissa gestured to the area where she wanted the looms.

"You may unpack and assemble them here," she said. The man's eyebrows shot upward and he smirked. The three dwarves helping him laughed among themselves.

"Right. Next I assume you'll ask me to dinner so I can cut your meat for you. I am a craftsman not a servant. Oh, and I will be needing these carts back by this time tomorrow, or there will be a fee. It's not my problem how you manage it, Priss," he said, motioning to his crew to leave. Unequaled craftsmanship and unequaled attitude made the this particular human difficult to endure and yet indispensable. As she watched them leave Erissa thought better of offering to pay them for the extra help.

"Has Virlas arrived yet, Arienne?" Erissa asked. "He sent word yesterday he would be returning this afternoon."

"I've not seen him. But I'll go check around town if you like," Arienne answered eagerly. "I mean, I've got some errands, so it's no problem. Restock the pantry and pick up some fresh meat."

"Oh, no. That isn't necessary. I need your help with the looms. We can at least sort the small parts and make sure everything is here," she said, excited to begin.

"Oh, alright," Arienne answered, disappointed. The two began untying the straps that bound the fine, shapely wood, carefully setting the pieces on a large cloth Arienne had spread across the floor. While they worked, Arienne fretted as the light of afternoon waned.

"Well, I think that is about all we can manage on our own," Erissa said. "You had errands in town? Why don't you take care of them now. I've nothing more for you to do until the looms are in working condition."

"Yes ma'am," Arienne said gladly and hurried away before Erissa could change her mind. Arienne did not go to the market; instead she quickly made her way to her own home, in the newer district of the city. Rushing through the creaky door, she pulled a small chest from beneath her cot and set it carefully on the worn and scarred table. Cursing the wobbly table, Arienne carefully unlatched the unadorned chest and removed a silken pouch from among her other few and humble treasures.

She removed a tiny crystal vial and carefully pulled the stopper that kept the precious liquid from spilling. Breathing in the scent she smiled, eyes closed. After a moment, she gently dabbed a drop beneath each ear and on each inner wrist. Quickly she repacked the chest and slid it back under her cot. Gazing into an age-stained mirror she smoothed her hair. Satisfied, she whisked out the door and began searching the streets for Virlas. Just a moment alone with him, that's all I ask...

Hours she spent searching frantically throughout town with no success. Arienne knew she needed to return to Erissa, but could not do so empty-handed. She checked the main square one last time but did not see him. Dejected, she made her way to the market. She selected several cuts of red meat, and after a moment ordered two more.

"Cut those a little thicker, please," Arienne said, "and wrap them separately." The butcher nodded and handed her the packages. Once she selected a variety of fresh vegetables and herbs, she paid the shopkeeper and prepared to return to Caedron Hall. She walked quickly, but her gaze was downcast.

"Arienne, is that you? Can I help you with those?" a voice called from behind her, and her heart fluttered.

"Virlas! Oh, yes, thank you. It's not far but my arms are tired," Arienne said, handing him a bag. He took both, to Arienne's pleasant surprise, in addition to the large satchel that was already slung over his shoulder.

"Wow, you smell great," Virlas said.

"Thank you," Arienne said, blushing and unsure of herself.

"So, do you have a big dinner planned?" he asked her, stealing a glance into the bags. "Sure is a lot of meat. I bet some lucky guy is looking forward to this!"

"Oh no, most of that is for my employer. But I... have extra." Arienne smiled and fidgeted. "You know, I'm actually a very good cook. My steak is to die for."

"There's nothing like a nice, thick steak," he said. "I've tried all kinds of cuisine, but nothing beats it."

"Well, then, maybe you would like to--" Arienne began but was interrupted.

"There you are. Oh! and you have brought Virlas." Erissa waved from the doorway and held it open for them. Damn! Arienne thought angrily. Why did I have to be so shy? And why did she have to arrive the the perfectly wrong time?

"I'll just unpack the groceries and get the meat on ice," Arienne said flatly, taking the groceries from Virlas.

"Thank you, Arienne," Erissa said. Turning to Virlas, she spoke again. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about carpentry, would you?"

"As a matter of fact, I picked up a little back home. No expert but I know a little something," he answered.

"Would you mind helping me assemble my looms? They are very heavy. And I will pay you for your trouble." Erissa smiled and grasped his arm, leading him to the looms.

"Well, okay then. I'm not sure I have a choice here," Virlas laughed. "I've got your materials. Had to venture into some hairy areas but there's a little something special for you in there." Erissa's eyes sparkled as he handed her the satchel. It was very heavy, and she laid it gently on the floor of the room.

"There are three looms," she said, nodding toward the carts and neatly organized stacks. Virlas sucked in a long, slow breath as he scratched the stubble on his chin.

"I hope you know how they go together because I don't have a clue." He ran his fingers through his hair and squatted down over the pieces. "So, let's see. Okay, I see how the joints fit. Think you can tell me where to start?"

"Yes. I know looms as well as the cloth I weave on them. But these base pieces," she pointed toward them, "are too heavy for me to lift." Virlas began unloading them and Erissa guided him through the process, assembling what she could herself. They worked slowly, not wanting to scar the fine finished wood, and Virlas struck up a conversation with her. Erissa felt unusually at ease, as if she had known Virlas for quite some time.

Arienne was making her way down the hall and was met with a sound rarely heard in Caedron Hall: laughter. The words were muffled but she could hear Erissa and Virlas chatting easily as they worked. A tongue of jealousy flickered in her heart, threatening an all-out flame. The water in the glass she held began to steam, then the glass itself shattered in her hand from the extreme temperature. Arienne cried out in surprise and pain; a shard had nicked her hand and it was beginning to bleed.

"Arienne, are you alright?" Erissa's mother Shayla asked a few moments later from a nearby doorway. She was joined by her husband.

"Why are you standing there bleeding all over the floor? Clean up that mess at once!" Ellear demanded. Disgusted, he grunted and muttered under his breath. "I cannot imagine why my daughter would hire a human servant. There are plenty of High Elves that would throw themselves at such an honor as to serve my family." Arienne hurried away to fetch a cloth to clean the mess.

"Ellear," Shayla said soothingly, "you know she was a good find. It is rare to find one with an elementalist calling who is willing to work as a servant. Her training is rudimentary, but she is fabulous in the kitchen." The sound of laughter again drifted down the hallway. Curious, Erissa's mother stepped further out into the hallway and heard voices through the open weaving room door. Erissa and Virlas were oblivious to the excitement outside and continued with their spirited conversation. Erissa stopped short when she saw her unamused father glaring at her from inside the doorway.

[Sagequeen]

7 cont'd

"I can finish from here," Erissa said quietly to Virlas. He had his back to the door, but turned quickly after the squeamish sensation of being watched gripped him. Virlas had a strong sense for such things, though usually only on the battlefield.

"Yes of course," Virlas said. He could easily sense the tension between Erissa and her father. He rose from the floor and spoke to Ellear. "A pleasure to meet you, Sir," he said, bowing. "My name is Virlas Avrune. You of course need no introduction as an esteemed member of the Anebrilith society." Virlas extended his hand, but none was offered in return so he quickly withdrew it. "I am employed by your daughter, and have been helping her assemble her new looms. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, though I am afraid I must be leaving in a few moments." Virlas bowed again and Ellear glared at him a few more seconds before whirling around and storming down the hallway.

"We will settle on the goods you brought," Erissa said without emotion as she turned to the satchel Virlas brought. She quickly sorted through it, figuring his payment. A silken pouch caught her eye, and from it she removed and expertly-made necklace. Her hands lingered and caressed the beautiful sapphire gem that gleamed from within its mythril setting, as the light illuminated it from every angle. The silver metal encircled the gem like a vine, creating a teardrop shape. Erissa hesitated as she wondered if he had come by it honestly. As she was about to ask, her mother swept into the room with all the refined flourish of a practiced socialite.

"It is nice to meet you Virlas, and please forgive my husband," Shayla said. "It is very kind of you to help my daughter as you have. I understand your help was essential to her recent honor."

"Thank you for your kind words, although I think your daughter's skill earned her that honor," Virlas said, bowing once again. He was strangely diplomatic and it did not escape Erissa's attention.

"Your payment," Erissa said, handing Virlas a leather pouch, "for the goods and the assistance with my looms. Will you wait a moment longer so that I may write another order?"

"Please do stay," Shayla said, her interest in him piqued. There certainly was something about him that held her attention. She had watched them over the weeks, always from a careful distance. "In fact, why don't you join us for our meal. Not to worry. Ellear was just leaving and will not return for some time. He has his work, you know. Erissa, won't you have Arienne prepare an extra setting?"

"Certainly," Erissa said. She was surprised that her mother would invite a hireling to her table. Erissa also felt the slightest twinge of worry he would refuse. "That is, if you would like to join us."

"I would be honored," he said, smiling. "But please do allow me a little time to make myself presentable."

"Of course," Erissa said. Her eyes lit up as an idea struck her. "Why don't you wear the outfit I made for you?" Virlas restrained a groan and nodded graciously. He took his leave of Erissa and her mother, who had turned their attention to completing the looms. As he walked down the hallway, he was met by Arienne. She clutched a large cloth.

"Don't slip in the water," she warned Virlas. Arienne quickly knelt down and began gathering the shards of glass and ice.

"Oh, you've cut yourself," Virlas said. "Please, let me help." He gathered the shards so she could soak the water from the fine marble with her cloth. Arienne smiled at him appreciatively, and quickly looked back down as a rosy hue colored her cheeks.

"Thank you. What I was saying earlier, well," Arienne stuttered. "I was wondering if you would like to have dinner," she said nervously, "I have an extra steak, and my home isn't as fancy as this, but--" she stopped when she saw the look on Virlas' face.

"I'm afraid I've already accepted an invitation for dinner, with Erissa and her mother. But you will be joining us, won't you?" He asked. Arienne was crushed and caught completely off guard. Virlas realized his mistake immediately.

"I have my meals in the kitchen, the left-overs, once the family and guests are served." Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she hid her face from him so he would not see. "Perhaps tomorrow?" she asked. Virlas shook his head slowly.

"Erissa said she'd have another order for me to fill, so I will leave at daybreak tomorrow," he said, sad to have upset Arienne. "Here, let me help you carry this glass to the garbage." Arienne said nothing but lead him to the kitchens to dispose of the glass. "I really must be going," he said. Arienne would not turn to look at him but nodded. Virlas left Caedron Hall and headed to his temporary lodging. Better not to lead her on, he thought.

After a good scrub in the basin, he stood before the mirror as he shaved. He studied reflection of the clothing Erissa made for him; they hung on the opposite wall, mocking him with their loudness. Now how am I going to manage to get out of here dressed like that? I've got a reputation to build!

[Sagequeen]

8.

Solemn faced, Arienne placed the prepared plates gently before Erissa, Shayla, and Virlas, then retreated into corner from which she would assure the glasses were refilled and second helpings were available if requested. She watched closely as the three ate, and especially Virlas, to whom she'd given the thicker cut of meat. Emotions coarsed through her: anger, envy, hatred, and disillusionment, creating a very bitter stew she savored in her lonely shadowed corner. She recalled how taken she was with the beautiful elven society when she first arrived in Anebrilith, and how she had hoped to one day be a part of it. She laughed silently and humorlessly.

"Tell me, Virlas," Shayla began, "you are from Corone?"

"Yes, I was born and raised in Radasanth," he said, shifting in his chair in the chafing, uncomfortable pants that were conspicuously tight in certain places. He felt odd with part of his chest exposed at a dinner table. Such was current High Elven fashion.

"And your parents?" She continued.

"Yes, they are still there. My father is a diplomat and my mother an alchemist. They own a nice hall that has been in the family since the city's founding." Virlas cut the tender meat and savored the taste. "This is excellent. If I closed my eyes I might think I was home again." Shayla was soundly perturbed why such a well-mannered and obviously educated man worked as a mercenary, though the gracious host declined to probe too deeply.

The conversation picked up as Virlas told dinner table versions of his interesting journies, and Erissa hardly ate as she watched him. She began to take over her mother's part of the conversation. As Shayla watched intently, Erissa began to come to life. There it is, Erissa's mother thought. This makes sense now. Oh, why did you hire this one? Surely you must realize by now why you shouldn't have.

"But then he realized, the dwarf wasn't wearing pants!" Virlas finished his story with Erissa joining in his laughter.

"How about some dessert," Shayla said, ever the gracious host. "Arienne, would you please prepare some of your specialty ice and sweet cream?" Glad to leave the room, Arienne nodded. A few moment later she returned with three long-stemmed glasses filled with a decadent shaved ice and sweet cream concoction, topped with crunchy flaked almond.

"Delicious!" Virlas exclaimed. "I am very honored to be a guest at your table."

"You are most welcome," Erissa said with a sweet, oblivious smile. At her back, in the shadows, Arienne seethed. By her side, Erissa's mother worried for her daughter. Across the table, Virlas glanced at Arienne, dreading what he was sure would come.

The remainder of dinner seemed pleasant though much more quiet. As the three rose from the table and exchanged pleasantries, Arienne began to clear away the plates. Soon, Shayla left for her nightly socials. Erissa and Virlas were alone.

"So, do you have another order for me?" Virlas asked as he tugged awkwardly at his jacket.

"Yes," Erissa answered, "come with me." She led him to her looms and produced a paper bearing her delicate script. Pausing a moment, she took his hand, much to Virlas' surprise. "Thank you," she said. "I am not sure what I will do once you leave..."

"Oh, you'll manage. You did before," Virlas said smiling. He bowed and kissed her hand. "I'd better get ready for tomorrow. It'll be a busy day."

"Please allow me to see you to the door," she said, and escorted him away as they talked and laughed. Arienne watched as they passed by the kitchens and waited until Erissa returned alone before she slipped quietly from Caedron Hall. The city was abuzz, and she scanned the crowds for a glimpse of Virlas. Her heart beat in her throat as she saw him walking several paces ahead of her. Steeling herself, she called out.

"Virlas, Virlas!" She waved gingerly as he turned. He weaved his way through the crowd back to her and they stepped to the side out of the flow of traffic.

"Hello," he said, "did Erissa forget something?" He already knew the answer.

"Well, no." Arienne said. "I just wanted to... I had a question," she stuttered. Virlas cringed inwardly and waited, smiling gently. He had not been oblivious to the way she looked at him. "I know I don't know you that well, outside Caedron Hall, but--" she stopped short when Virlas held up his hand.

"Arienne, you are a beautiful woman. Any man would be lucky to call you his own. But you must know I cannot be that man for you." He paused, preparing to give the same line he'd given many other women over the years. "I'm just a mercenary." He hated leaving broken hearts across the lands he traveled.

"I don't care!" She cried out, tears beginning to flow. "Let me come with you, please, take me away from here!" Virlas hugged her, his heart saddened as she sobbed on his shoulder.

"You know I cannot. The roads I travel are no place for a gentle woman."

"I would rather die there than live here," she cried. Virlas sighed heavily.

"I did not want to bring this up," he said slowly, "but my heart belongs to another." Deeply embarrassed and hurt, Arienne slowly backed away from him shaking her head. She turned and fled from him, a blind rage setting in and twisting her countenance. Virlas wearily rubbed his face and eyes. He hated lying to her and began to regret ever reading the letters that eventually led him to the tailoring looms and Erissa.

"Why did I get involved?" He asked himself. I know better, he thought. I should have just buried the dead soldier's letters with him. Damned sketch of her did it... wish it had never fallen out. He considered ending his arrangement with Erissa, but knew deep down he would not. In his lonely late-night reading and the long hours between jobs, he had come to care for her through the eyes of her brother. He'd already let his guard down somewhat, and for once, it felt nice to have someone to care about. Knowing she was a High Elf and there was no future for them was enough to keep his heart sufficiently guarded.