Onyx and Alabaster

(Note: this version of the story is a first draft. I'll post a more refined version later.)

It was pain that brought Alabaster back to consciousness. Most people would have considered that a bad start, but Alabaster was merely surprised. He’d expected that, when the blood loss made him pass out, he’d simply vanish into oblivion like the rest of his kind. The damnable Stalking Men had nearly cornered him. They’d certainly inflicted enough wounds during his mad flight from them in the Darden Hills. He thought back to that desperate flight. How had it ended? He had groggy, disjointed memories of a light in the distance. Beyond that there was only a vague sense of warmth.

He rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes and felt the brush of cloth. He forced his eyes open and winced at the light, reflexively turning his face away. The light wouldn’t hurt him, the bargain ensured that, but it would never be his friend. He held his hand in front of his face and examined the bandage that wrapped his hand and most of his forearm. It was linen and high-quality at that. He’d only ever heard of such things, but never seen them in person. Nobility dressed bandages in linen. It was simply too expensive for anyone else.

As he let his eyes rove over the room, he couldn’t help but feel that they were too expensive for whoever had given him shelter. The room was clean, but the furniture was too simple and rustic for nobility. A small, three-legged table held a pitcher and a basin. His belongings were piled neatly on the floor next to the table. Alabaster braced himself mentally and then sat up. There was pain, but it was the dull, throbbing species of pain rather than the lancing, electric pain he’d expected.

He swung his legs out from beneath the blankets and, with a barely suppressed groan, forced himself to his feet. Alabaster looked down at his own body. More of the linen wrapped his chest and legs. He tentatively made his way toward the table, wincing with each step. It had been close. So close. Curse the Stalking Men and their vendetta. He poured water from the pitcher into the basin. He used his unbandaged hand to scrub at his face. The water in the basin turned a pale pink and he thanked whatever spirits watched over the likes of his kind that he’d slipped eternity’s grasp once more.

“You shouldn’t be up.”

Alabaster whirled toward the voice or tried to at least. His injured legs nearly gave out beneath him. He pressed a hand against the wall as his vision spun and a deep nausea gripped his stomach. A cold sweat popped out across his body and Alabaster shivered involuntarily. He took several controlled breaths and his vision settled, though his stomach did not. He lifted his gaze and saw a girl standing in the doorway. She took a tentative step into the room and Alabaster second-guessed his original assessment. Not a girl, but not a woman either. She was a pale, slender creature with dark hair and dark eyes. There was something off about her, though. She stood hesitantly, a small tray in her hands, looking at the wall behind him.

“Where am I?” Alabaster demanded, although his voice was little more than a ragged whisper.

The young woman’s head swung toward him and Alabaster finally understood. She was blind or the next best thing to it.

“This is my home,” she said.

Alabaster couldn’t swear to it, but something in her tone suggested that she thought it should be obvious.

“Who are you?” Alabaster croaked at her.

“Onixinia Weaver,” she said. “Everyone calls me Onyx. I’d ask your name, but I expect you should lie down again before I ask you anything.”

Alabaster thought to tell the whelp where she should put her advice, but the trembling in his legs convinced him to go back to the bed. He couldn’t fight. He could barely stand. In other words, he couldn’t afford to undermine whatever madness had led this girl’s family to grant him shelter. He shuffled over to the bed and crawled back beneath blankets. A fog of bone deep weariness settled over him almost immediately. The girl walked carefully over to the bed and settled the tray with equal care next him.

Alabaster’s breath caught as her fingertips brushed across his face. It was only shock that spared the young woman, Onyx he reminded himself, sudden violence. He felt a moment of relief that shock had stayed his hand when she lifted a small cup of water to his lips. She can’t see me, he thought. It’s the only way she knows where to put the cup. He forced himself to sip at the water. It tasted sweet as it trickled down his throat and soothed the rough ache there. She waited patiently as he sipped the water. His head dropped back when he’d had enough. He didn’t dare drink more until the nausea passed.

“Now,” she said, “What is your name.”

“Alabaster,” he said before the exhaustion overwhelmed him.

***

The next few days blurred together for Alabaster. He slept more than he was awake. It was only the coaxing of Onyx that rousted him to consciousness on most of those brief waking occasions. She checked his bandages with gentle prods. He watched in confusion as she lifted her fingertips and smelled them after checking each bandage.

“What are you doing?” He asked after witnessing this bizarre ritual for the tenth or twentieth time.

She turned her head in his general direction, but her dark eyes didn’t meet his. “I can feel if there’s blood seeping through, but it’s easier to smell if the wounds have grown infected.”

He grunted something at her so she’d know he’d heard her, but he didn’t comment again. His wounds wouldn’t get infected, but he didn’t feel compelled to share that with her. It would lead to other questions.

“Where are your parents? I should arrange payment with them.”

Onyx’s face went blank before she spoke. “They are gone.”

Alabaster almost asked her where they had gone before the simple truth revealed itself to him. Dead, he thought. She means they’re dead.

“Then who is the master here?”

“I am the mistress here,” she said, her voice firm.

Alabaster stared at her for a moment before he answered. “I see. There is a coin pouch among my things. Take it. I’ll see any balance paid when I can travel again.”

The girl shrugged as if the matter of payment held no interest for her. “As you see fit.”

She left a tray of simple foods for him to eat. He didn’t need it, precisely, but he nibbled at the bread and fruit. Blind and alone, he thought. How does she survive? Then, a thought that surprised Alabaster crossed his mind. I should leave this place before I bring death down on this house. It wasn’t the sort of thing he thought, but then he rarely stayed anywhere that such a thought would be appropriate. Alabaster didn’t understand compassion, but he understood obligation. That girl had saved him. He owed her a debt. He would save her from himself. He would leave tomorrow. Having made the decision, he drifted back to sleep.

***

Alabaster woke the next day with a familiar feeling of purpose. He would go and free the foolish girl of his presence. He stood and, if not infused with his usual sense of strength, he was strong enough to be on his way. He removed the bandages and examined himself. There were fresh scars, but no open wounds. An odd moment of vague relief washed over him that the girl was blind. His recovery would only have frightened her. He washed in the basin and put his clothes on. The coin pouch clinked as he gently tossed it in his hand. He opened the pouch and removed a few coins for his immediate needs. Those went into a pocket. He set the pouch on the table before buckling on his sword belt.

Alabaster opened the door and stepped out into the house proper for the first time. It was much like the room where he had recovered, clean and simple. There was a loom and baskets he assumed contained fibers. On a nearby table, he saw piles of cloth. Curiosity got the better of him. He walked over and ran his fingers over the cloth. It was exceedingly fine material. Even with his limited knowledge, Alabaster knew such material commanded exorbitant prices in large city markets. No wonder the girl doesn’t concern herself with money, he thought.

Alabaster wandered through the house and found no sign of Onyx. He finally found the kitchen and there were signs that someone had been there recently. He could smell bread dough and there was a fire in the stove. The room was uncomfortably warm for his tastes, but maybe all kitchens were so. He saw a door in the back of the kitchen that looked like it led outside. He’d have to go out back and see if his horse was tied nearby. The door swung open and Onyx stepped inside, a small pile of firewood in one arm. Alabaster wavered for a moment before he spoke.

“Let me help.”

Onyx shouted in surprise and dropped the firewood onto the floor. Her head jerked in his direction. “Alabaster?”

“Yes,” he said, walking toward the fallen wood.

“You startled me.”

He hesitated before speaking again. “I apologize.”

He scooped the wood up into one arm. He stared down at that wood. It had seemed a small amount in Onyx’s arm, but it looked pathetic in his own.

She let out a short laugh. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I just didn’t expect you to be up.”

Alabaster didn’t really know what to say, so he just made a noise. “Where should I put this?”

“Over by the stove, please.”

He looked by the stove and saw bits of bark and wood splinters on the floor. He deposited the wood there. He saw Onyx turn back to the door.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“To get more wood. That won’t last the day, let alone through the night.”

“I’ll get it,” he said on impulse. “Just tell me where it is.”

“You’re hurt,” she objected.

“I can carry a little wood,” he said. “Just tell me where.”

“Around the side of the house.”

Alabaster stepped through the door. The chill morning air felt good against his skin after the heat of the kitchen. He let his eyes wander over the immediate area. There was a small barn and a pasture where he could see his horse calmly grazing. The barn looked dilapidated to him. The fence was in poor repair. He saw a few chickens wandering around in the yard. They looked decidedly underfed. Alabaster felt himself frowning as the picture became all too clear.

He walked around the side of the house and found a small pile of split wood. There were a few larger rounds of wood waiting to be split and a battered looking axe leaning against the house. He wondered if Onyx was trying to split the wood herself. Frowning even more, he loaded an arm with wood and took it inside. He made several more trips before Onyx called him off.

“Thank you, but you really should be resting.”

“I heal fast,” he said.

“No one heals that fast.”

The silence stretched out for long enough that even Alabaster knew it was too long. He finally opened his mouth and spoke. “I do.”

It was clear from the expression on Onyx’s face that she didn’t understand and planned to ask questions. Alabaster cut in before she could formulate the questions.

“I’m in your debt. I can help out a little before I go. Help pay the debt.”

Onyx’s expression grew serious. “It’s not necessary.”

“It is,” said Alabaster, his voice far, far gentler than his expression.

He would pay his debt, one way or another.

***

A few hours later, Alabaster realized that his plan to leave had been foolish. His wounds were healed, in a sense, but his strength hadn’t returned yet. Not in full. A mere hour chopping the wood rounds left him feeling like he’d been on the road without sleep for three days. It was a comparison he was fully capable of making, having done the deed more than once. Still, he felt a small twinge of accomplishment. The girl wouldn’t go cold for a week or two. He’d finish chopping the remaining rounds the next day.

He leaned the axe against the wall and wandered over to the pasture. His horse walked over and stuck its long face over the fence. The gray gelding gently nudged at Alabaster’s shoulder. Alabaster sighed and rubbed his hand along the horse’s nose. He supposed he should be grateful that the animal liked him. Most horses didn’t want anything to do with him. He wasn’t sure if it was because of his nature or just his personality. He dismissed the question almost immediately. An answer wouldn’t make it any easier to find a horse when he eventually needed a new one.

He eyed the fence around the pasture. It was in worse shape than he’d thought from a distance. It was just basic wooden planks attached to posts in the ground. Some planks were missing entirely, while others showed signs of rot. If his own horse decided to leave, the fence wouldn’t prove much of an obstacle. How long, he wondered, has she lived here alone? How long since anyone came here to visit? Giving the horse another rub on the nose, Alabaster went into the barn.

The building looked worn out, but he could see that someone had taken great care in building it. There were heavy beams supporting the structure. There was also a few stalls that could hold horses or, he guessed, cows. Ancient straw or hay littered the bottoms of the stalls. He walked past those and found a small workroom. There were tools there hanging on the wall. They were used, but free of rust. He idly touched a chisel and his finger came away greasy. They’d been oiled the last time someone used them. There was a smattering of wood shavings on the floor. Perhaps the girl’s father been some kind of woodworker. A small pile of boards rested on the floor. Alabaster eyed them and thought they might be the right size for the fence.

At the back of workspace, he found a door that led into a narrow staircase. He climbed the steps, acutely aware of his own weariness. At the top of the steps he found a large, mostly empty space. Off to his left, Alabaster saw a small pile of moldering hay. He looked up and could see slender shafts of light piercing the gloom from the roof. He suspected that the roof of the house wasn’t in much better condition. Yes, he decided, he could find ways to make himself useful. At the very least, he could ensure the girl’s property didn’t fall apart completely in the next year.

Alabaster made his way back to the house, briefly eyeing the roof with suspicion, before pushing into the kitchen. The heat in the kitchen drove home how weary he felt. He wondered, briefly, just how close the Stalking Men had come to their goal. It had certainly been too close for Alabaster’s comfort. After a moment, the smell of food pierced the cloud of fatigue around him. He wasn’t all that concerned with food most of the time, eating it only on occasions when he needed to maintain the right pretense. Yet, today, the smell of fresh bread that permeated the air made him want food. Beneath the bread smell, he caught something thicker, heartier. He glanced around and spotted a heavy pot on the kitchen stove. He started to walk over to it, but Onyx’s voice brought him up short.

“Alabaster?” she called from the other room.

He walked through the door into the main room and found Onyx sitting before her loom. Her hands moved with shocking speed as she made cloth appear as if by magic. He’d never seen anyone actually use one of the odd machines before. Her motions made it look easy, almost careless, and he decided it was probably neither of those things.

“Yes,” he answered, remembering she’d called out to him.

“Are you hungry?” She asked, her hands never straying from their diligent work.

He thought about the question. He didn’t need the food, but he did want some of it. “Yes, I’m hungry.”

Onyx nodded and her hands worked the machine for a few moments longer before she settled back on the stool. She ran her hands over the completed portion of the new cloth and gave it a dour look. Curious, Alabaster walked over and let his fingers run across the cloth. It was thin, fine cloth and at least as good as anything he’d ever worn.

“It’s excellent quality,” he said.

Onyx shook her head in a firm negation. “It’s not. My mother was a true mistress. She could weave cloth so fine that it all but floated.”

Alabaster blinked a few times, shrugged to himself, and made a noise that could mean anything. Onyx didn’t react to the noise and seemed lost in her own thoughts. She pursed her lips and stood from the stool. “Come along. I need to eat something.”

She took him back to the kitchen. He watched in mute awe as she navigated the space without a misstep, slicing bread, ladling soup, and setting it all out on the small table. She settled down on another small stool by the table. Alabaster took the stool across from her. He reached for the spoon by the bowl, but his hand froze as Onyx spoke.

“May the hands of Aedis give freely and take rarely,” she said in simple prayer.

The girl may not have felt it, but Alabaster’s blood froze as he felt the god’s gaze sweep over them. Then, it settled on them more firmly. The divine scrutiny intensified until Alabaster felt sure that it would pierce his body and rend him apart. Under normal circumstances, Aedis would take no notice of him. Aedis was the god of makers and crafters. Of course, Alabaster would rarely be found in the home of a maker. Just because Aedis didn’t normally take notice of Alabaster’s kind, it didn’t mean he couldn’t do something to Alabaster if the god had a mind to do so. After an excruciating minute of that divine gaze boring down on him, it finally receded. Yet, it didn’t vanish entirely. Alabaster understood the message clearly enough. It said, I’ll tolerate this for now, if you behave yourself. Alabaster looked down at his own hand and found it shaking badly.

“Are you going to eat?” Onyx asked.

Alabaster jerked his gaze away from his hand and looked at the girl. She had a quizzical expression on her face. He forced calm on himself. If Aedis was going to do something, he’d have done it. Alabaster picked up the spoon and dipped it into the soup.

“Yes, yes, just lost in thought.”

Onyx nodded. “I do that too. What were you thinking about?”

“I was thinking about,” Alabaster considered his next word with care. “Aedis.”

“Are you a maker?”

“No,” he answered, “but you mentioned him.”

Summoned him, Alabaster thought. The girl clearly had the god’s favor. Even a passing look was more than most people got from the divine. He worried he’d stepped into deeper waters than he’d expected. Still, there was the debt. He’d clear that away and then Aedis would stop watching them.

***

Onyx and Alabaster fell into a quiet routine over the next week. He’d wake before dawn, stoke the fire in the main room and start one in the kitchen. Then, he’d go outside and get started on his self-appointed task for the day. They’d eat a small meal around midday and Onyx would ask him a few questions. Sometimes, she’d ask questions about him, but more often she’d ask him about places he’d been. She’d ask questions that seemed odd to him at first. She asked him what the ocean smelled like. She asked him what the deep woods sounded like. She asked how cobblestones felt when you walked on them.

He answered as well as he could, but the questions left Alabaster with the odd feeling that Onyx paid far more attention to the world than he ever had. It was a startling feeling, given everything he’d done to reach the world. He still wondered how much he had missed through simple inattention. She always seemed excited by his answers and prodded him for more details. Then, she’d go back to her loom and he’d go back outside to work some more. Yet, as he worked, he’d think back and try to remember the details she asked about. When he did manage to dredge up one of those details, he’d carefully tuck it away and tell her about it over dinner.

Throughout it all, he felt the perpetual, watchful gaze of Aedis on him. At first, he could sense the god’s cold disapproval of his presence. As the days passed, the disapproval fell away into something more like curious bafflement. Alabaster supposed it was fair. He couldn’t have fully explained his own actions if asked. At least, he couldn’t explain it beyond the debt. It was answer enough, but Alabaster knew it wasn’t the whole of it. He just wished he know the whole of it.

After a week, though, he had no more insight as he found himself on the roof of the barn. He’d put the task off until last, mostly because it had taken him all week to figure out how to get up there. He’d repaired about the half the holes in the roof when a noise made him look down. A small wagon with a lone figure in it had pulled up beside the small house. Alabaster glared down from the barn roof with suspicion. The driver got down from the wagon and peered around. The man did not look pleased. The man looked even less pleased when he saw Alabaster on the barn roof. He did not wave or call out and neither did Alabaster. The man eventually pulled several sacks out of the wagon and knocked on the kitchen door. Alabaster watched as Onyx greeted the man and invited him in. He stared down at that kitchen door for a long time before he got back to work.

Perhaps an hour later, the man came back out with all of the cloth that Onyx had made carefully folded over one arm. He handed Onyx a purse and walked away looked exceedingly happy with himself. Alabaster frowned down. He recognized that expression of self-satisfaction and it did not please him to see it on the man’s face. The man’s step faltered as though he felt Alabaster’s displeasure and turned his face toward the barn. For a brief moment, naked dread passed across the man’s face before he hurried over to the wagon and left. Alabaster glared after the departing wagon.

Alabaster looked over the roof. He was pretty sure he’d gotten all the holes. He climbed down and checked the interior of the barn. No errant shafts of light interrupted the steady gloom. It was enough to keep most of the rain out, he decided. He stopped at the well he’d had to ask Onyx about and brought up several buckets of water. He refilled the trough in the pasture before using handfuls of water to clean the worst of the grime off his hands and arms. He ventured inside to find Onyx in the kitchen. She was carefully sorting food out of the sacks. Some things she smelled and others she tasted. He eyed the sacks. He eyed the pitifully small purse Onyx had left on the table.

Alabaster didn’t understand many things. He was no master of trade and money, but it didn’t take a master to understand that what Onyx made was valuable. He glared down at that purse and his anger grew. He didn’t understand many things, but he did understand debts and bargains. The man in the wagon was cheating Onyx. His first instinct was to track the man and kill him in some appropriately slow way. Alabaster reasoned that it would serve as a fine object lesson to anyone else considering a similar course of action. He looked over at Onyx and the sacks. No, he decided, the man in the wagon brought food. It was something Onyx could, conceivably, do on her own. It wouldn’t be an easy task, though. He didn’t think she left the house if she could avoid it.

No, he’d need to do something else, something that would ensure the man kept providing this service to Onyx. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t even realize that Onyx was speaking to him until she said his name. In fact, he was pretty sure she’d said it several times.

“Alabaster?” She said, a concerned expression on her face.

“I’m here,” he answered abruptly. “Lost in my thoughts again.”

She smiled up at him. He thought hard again about simply killing the man in the wagon. It would be so easy.

“What’s in here?” she asked, holding up a clear glass jar.

“Honey,” he answered.

She pointed and asked, “Would you please put it up there on that shelf?”

He walked over and gently took the jar from her hand. She gave him a bright smile. So easy, he thought again, but not helpful. After he put the jar away, Onyx held up an assortment of things that Alabaster was certain she could have identified. He’d tell her what the things were and she’d tell him where they went. Eventually, he shrugged it off with the thought that it made the work faster. As they put the food away, he asked a few questions about the man in the wagon. When he knew enough, Alabaster went back to plotting Onyx’s vicarious revenge.

***

The next morning, Alabaster woke up earlier than usual. He took the extra time to groom and saddle his horse. As he secured the saddle, he idly thought he ought to name the horse. The thought brought him up short. He’d never named any of his other horses. He’d never even considered the idea. What, he wondered, had even prompted the notion? He stood there long enough that the horse looked back at him and then nudged him. He shook himself out of his abstraction and considered the horse.

“Well, you did manage to get me away from the Stalking Men. You even did it without my help at the end there. I guess I’ll call you Runner.”

He thought that it wasn’t a very good name. Then again, he didn’t have much practice at it. It would suffice for a first effort. He looped the reins around a post before heading back to the house. He gathered up his meager possessions. They made a very small pile on his bed. He stared down at the pile with a sense of something. Try as he might, he couldn’t put a word to the feeling. An itch between his shoulder blades reminded Alabaster that Aedis hadn’t given up his observation. He glared upward.

“I’m leaving you suspicious bastard,” he muttered. “I pay my debts. I won’t hurt her. I’d never hurt her.”

Again, he came up short. The truth in those words startled him. He paid his debts, but all obligation ended once a debt was cleared. If he wanted, he’d be able to kill her once he dealt with the thieving wagon man. Except, he’d never want to kill her. He knew it. He knew it with a glaring, absolute certainty. Perhaps, if she’d just sheltered him a day or two, it might be different. She hadn’t done that. She’d…he clawed around for the word. Befriended, he thought. She befriended me. She hadn’t needed to do that. There was no advantage in it for her. Yet, she’d done it all the same. No, Onyx would never need fear him.

He went back out to the kitchen and put the teapot on the stove. With a glance out a window, Alabaster judged she’d be up soon. After a few minutes work, he had a small breakfast of sliced fruit and bread laid out on the table. When he heard Onyx shuffling around, he carefully measured out tea leaves into two cups and poured steaming water over them. She stopped at the kitchen door and smelled the air. She turned her head to the spot where Alabaster always sat.

“You make breakfast,” she said.

“I did.”

She smiled for a moment. Then, her face grew serious. She walked over to the table and sat in her customary spot.

She sighed a little before she spoke. “You’re leaving.”

“Yes,” he answered. “It’s time.”

“I suppose you have your own family waiting at home.”

Alabaster blinked across the table at her. She’d never asked him about family. “No.”

Onyx blinked a few times, seemingly thinking hard about that information.

“You could,” she hesitated. “You could stay.”

Alabaster felt the world slide around beneath him at those words, as though he had become inexplicably untethered from the pull of the world. She had offered him a home. For a few beautiful, awful moments, Alabaster considered it. A place that could be his. No, he corrected himself, it could be theirs. He wasn’t a crafter, but he could do enough that the barn and house would stand. The roof would never leak. Maybe, he could even try his hand at a little farming. He didn’t imagine plants would like him much better than most horses, but maybe. Then, he thought about the Stalking Men. He thought about what they would do to Onyx if they found him with her. The dream died the death he knew it would, but he relished those few moments he’d held the dream.

“I would,” he said. “I can’t. I…”

“You don’t have to explain,” said Onyx in a rush. “It was a silly idea.”

“You wouldn’t be safe,” he said. “I have enemies. They’d, they wouldn’t care that you’re innocent.”

Onyx looked confused for a moment. Then, she looked frightened. The fear finally gave way to sadness. “Have you done such terrible things?”

Alabaster considered the question seriously before he answered. “Sometimes. Not as often as they think, but that’s not why they’d come. They hate what I am, more than what I’ve done.”

“What are you?”

Alabaster looked at the girl across the table and wondered what to say. After a long moment, he answered, “Your friend.”

***

Alabaster pulled his heavy cloak around him and eyed the frost on the grass. Winter was still a ways off, but autumn had arrived in earnest. He didn’t look back at the house as Runner carried him down the road. At least, he didn’t look back with his eyes. He didn’t dare. He worried that he would turn Runner around, consequences be damned. Onyx couldn’t have known what her offer of a home meant to him. It was a temptation beyond all others. He couldn’t accept it, because the risk was too great. That didn’t mean he couldn’t do one last thing for her. Alabaster turned his mind to the man in the wagon, Cerracun Ferrus. His focus was so intense, that he didn’t even notice the lingering attention of Aedis on him.

He didn’t have a plan by the time he reached Tercemanth. Onyx had called it a city, but Alabaster saw it as little more than a large town. He had visited the great port cities of Samece and Alpme, which stretched out for miles along the shore. He had even walked the streets of Holy Encilo. Citizens said that a million people lived there, though Alabaster thought that was probably exaggeration. Half a million people, though, he thought that might be possible. It was in Encilo that the Stalking Men first learned of him. It was inevitable. Too much divinity was concentrated in the place. Such as he couldn’t walk there without someone noticing.

Still, exposure to those vast concentrations of humanity made him view Tercemanth with jaded eyes. He’d be surprised if more than a few thousand people lived there. It wasn’t large enough for someone like him to get lost for very long. Then again, he didn’t think he’d need that long. It only took a few questions for him to find the market square. He glanced down at the coin purse on his belt. Onyx had refused the money, claiming that he’d done more than enough work to repay her. He’d considered leaving it behind anyway, but he was grateful to have it now. A few casual purchases would make him less suspect.

He swung down out of the saddle. Leading Runner would let him get a better look at stalls. He was also grateful that the weather gave him an excuse for the cloak. It let him carry the slender daggers he preferred without everyone knowing. A sword was fine for dispatching a cutthroat on the road, but Alabaster felt that a personal message required a personal kind of weapon. He intended to deliver Cerracun Ferrus a very personal message. Despite his intention to buy a few things at random, he mostly bought things that Onyx would like. He bought dried fruits that she preferred, the tea she liked, and even a small stone sculpture that was glossy to the touch. After the sculpture, he asked about where he might buy some cloth.

He wasn’t surprised that he was directed to Ferrus. What did comes as a surprise was that Ferrus no longer worked a stall but ran a nearby shop. Alabaster safely stowed the sculpture in his saddlebag before moving off in the direction that the stall keeper indicated. He didn’t hurry. It was only afternoon, which meant he had plenty of time left to find Ferrus. It didn’t take much effort to find the shop. It seemed to have a steady stream of customers, some of them well to do. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw at least one woman leave the shop with some of Onyx’s cloth and climb into an expensive carriage. That sight alone kept his anger on a slow burn.

He gave the shop a thoughtful look before he led Runner down the street to a nearby tavern. The steady stream of customers at the shop made it impractical for him to do anything during the day. That was alright, he decided. He worked better in the dark. He burned through the rest of the afternoon casually drinking in a dark corner of the tavern. A few people glanced at him, but no one paid him special attention. Alabaster could look innocuous if he put his mind to it. He kept an eye on the window. Once the light started to fade and people started filing in for a drink after a long day, Alabaster rose from his table and headed back outside.

He did a slow wander through the streets, sizing up the building that held the cloth shop from every angle. It looked to Alabaster like the second floor was a living space. He watched Ferrus close up the shop for the day from a shadow across the street. Shadows liked Alabaster. They’d collect around him like a blanket of darkness if he stood still for any length of time. He’d never questioned how the shadows did such a thing. It was simply a useful tool that rendered him all but invisible when not in full daylight. Alabaster’s suspicion was confirmed as he saw the candles go out on the first floor, only for fresh flickers of light to appear on the second floor.

Alabaster waited until the traffic on the street fell away to nothing. He knew the moon would rise soon, but for an hour or two the world would be made from true darkness. He stepped out from the spot where he’d waited and the blanket of shadows slid with him. He crossed the street in the cool embrace of their concealment. He supposed if anyone had seen him moving, they’d have thought it little more than their eyes playing tricks on them. All the better, he decided, if a little wariness drove any would-be observers away from their windows. Alabaster slipped through the narrow space between the cloth shop and its neighboring building. It was wide enough for a small cart to pass and make deliveries, but it wouldn’t encourage nighttime foot traffic.

He rounded the back of the building and pressed himself against the wall. He scanned the area, looking for lit windows or vagrants. It was getting cold enough that people might look for shelter behind the building. Nothing moved for a moment and then a thin, feral cat appeared out of nowhere and walked up to Alabaster. He eyed the animal as it stalked up to him and sat down, peering up at him with curious eyes. For a moment, Alabaster wondered what to make of the animal. If it made a racket, he might need to kill it. The cat abruptly stood, stepped forward, and rubbed its body against Alabaster’s leg. It purred softly at him. Alabaster stood there with his mouth hanging open. Almost against his own will, he reached down and gently rubbed his hand over the cat’s head and ears. It pressed its face firmly against him palm for a moment before it apparently lost interest.

Alabaster stared in bafflement as the thin cat disappeared back from wherever it had come from. The moment was so odd that he momentarily forgot why he was standing there. The moment passed and Alabaster shook his head. He gave the back of the building a look, debating the best approach. There was a door in the back, but it’d be almost impossible to get in that way without leaving a lot of evidence. Instead, he scaled up the exterior of the building. A human couldn’t have done it. Only his inhuman strength let him cling to the tiny ridges between the stones. He picked a darkened window and tested it. The window slid open with the barest noise. It seemed Ferrus placed a low premium on security. With a quiet snort, Alabaster slipped inside.

***

Alabaster waited patiently while Ferrus prepared himself a meal. Based on the smell, Ferrus lacked Onyx’s skill in the kitchen. The smell of charred meat overwhelmed everything else. Alabaster smiled to himself as Ferrus cursed in the kitchen. It seemed his financial successes hadn’t translated into a wife or even secured him a reliable cook. Eventually, Alabaster heard the clink of fork or knife on a plate. He eased open the door to the room he’d hidden in and slipped out. Luck was on his side, because Ferrus was hunched over a small table with his back to Alabaster. Alabaster slid one of daggers free from its sheath and crept up on the man.

Up close, he could see the Ferrus was older than he looked at a distance. The merchant was balding and age spots dotted the growing bald spot on the back of his head. It seemed Ferrus enjoyed food, even it wasn’t well made, because he was drifting toward obesity. The aging man was so focused on his poorly cooked meal that he didn’t know anything was happening until Alabaster pressed the dagger against his throat. The merchant started to pull away until the motion drew blood. The pain made the man freeze.

“There now,” said Alabaster. “You and I need to have a talk.”

“Who are you?” Ferrus demanded through clenched teeth.

Alabaster let up the pressure on the blade just a hair and slammed his open palm against the man’s left ear. He picked that attack because he knew it hurt, but probably wouldn’t permanently disable the man. It wasn’t time for that. At least, it wasn’t time yet. Ferrus cried out as the sharp pain hit home. Apparently, the merchant had a little fight left in him because he grabbed for a knife on the table. Alabaster pulled the second dagger and put the tip against the man’s left eyelid. Ferrus let go of the knife’s handle.

“Better,” said Alabaster. “Sit back.”

Ferrus did as he was told. Alabaster moved from the dagger from Ferrus’ eye to the man’s crotch, pressing hard enough the man shouted in horrified alarm as much as pain.

“What do you want?” Ferrus shrieked.

“I’m so glad you asked me that. I want to peel the skin from your body like an apple. I want to pop your eyes like grapes. I want to cut out your tongue so you can’t even have the release of screaming. I want to break your bones one by one until you go mad. I want to geld you and leave you deep in the forest for the wolves to hunt. I want to cast you down into the deepest pit of the hells for the demons to play with for eternity. What do I want, Cerracun Ferrus? I want to make you suffer.”

Ferrus started trembling violently as Alabaster spoke. By the end, the man was openly weeping in fear.

“Why?” Ferrus sobbed.

“Why? Maybe it’s my nature. Maybe it’s because I can. Maybe I just like hurting people,” offered Alabaster, pressing the dagger even harder against Ferrus’ manhood. “Or maybe it’s because you cheat a blind girl with no one to protect her best interests.”

Ferrus went absolutely expressionless before a look of dawning horror spread across his fat, tear-streaked face.

Alabaster spoke again. “Unfortunately for you, it’s actually all of those things.”

Ferrus started begging incoherently for his life, promising anything, anything at all, if Alabaster would simply spare his life. Alabaster let it go on for at least a minute before it grew tiresome.

“Be quiet.”

Ferrus fell silent, but his eyes were rolling around in half-mad terror.

“Listen to me carefully,” said Alabaster. “I’ll let you live, but only on the barest sufferance. In return, you will repay Onyx every bit of coin you’ve ever cheated from her. You’ll tell your customers where you get that fine cloth. You’ll continue taking her food. The finest food you can find. You’ll arrange for repairs on her home when she needs them. You will become like a father to her. You’ll be so good and so kind to her that people will call you a saint for it. Do these things, and I’ll spare your life.”

“I will! I will! I swear before Aedis I will!”

At the mention of his name, Alabaster became aware again of the god’s attention. It was so overwhelming that Alabaster looked around the room to see if the god had manifested. The room was empty, but that presence remained. Alabaster waited to see if anything would happen. When nothing did, he shrugged and focused on Ferrus again.

“If you fail in this, I will know. I’ll come back here. Do you ever want me to come here again, Ferrus?”

“No! No, please no!”

“I don’t want the promises you made here to ever slip your mind. So, pick up the knife.”

***

Alabaster let Runner set the pace as they made their way south beneath the moon. They were traveling away from Tercemanth, from Ferrus, and from Onyx. That last left a jagged bit of hurt in Alabaster that he didn’t know what to do with. Leaving was the safe thing for her and for him. Yet, he loathed it. Still, he’d done what he could for her. He’d come back in six months or a year, quietly, and make sure Ferrus was keeping his word. Gods help that man if he wasn’t. Alabaster was perfectly capable and willing to make good on any or all of his threats. Alabaster reflected on that idea briefly. Was it a threat or a promise if he’d actually do it? He shrugged it off. He supposed it was a bit of both.

By the time dawn was painting the horizon with color, Alabaster and Runner had put a goodly distance between them and the events of the last few weeks. Alabaster wasn’t relaxed, exactly, but he was less tense. If Ferrus dared to report what happened to the authorities, it probably wouldn’t happen for days. Otherwise, there would already be obvious pursuit. If a few days passed, Alabaster would be far beyond their reach. Just one more anonymous traveler on gray gelding no one would look at twice. As Alabaster thought that, a figure stepped out of the trees and positioned himself in the center of the road. Runner came to a stop with no prompting. Alabaster’s opinion of the horse grew every time it showed these signs of obvious intelligence.

The figure in the road wore rough pants, a leather vest, and leaned on a long, sturdy walking stick. He was a burly man with thick arms and a short-cropped beard. He and Alabaster studied one another for a long moment. The man finally offered up something like a smile.

“Hello, Alabaster. That is what you call yourself, isn’t it?”

Alabaster didn’t reply. Instead, he let his hand drop to his sword hilt as he studied the trees. Had the Stalking Men tracked him and set up an ambush? He’d picked a direction at random. It seemed unlikely that even those inestimable hunters could have such keen foresight. Yet, Alabaster couldn’t completely dismiss the possibility. It was his life at stake.

“Peace,” said the figure in the road. “Your hunters are far to the east. They track one of your brethren. One with less control and discretion than you possess.”

“Easier prey?” Alabaster asked, his eyes still scanning the deep shadows in the woods.

“Indeed.”

“Who are you, then, to know my name and where I travel?”

“I am Aedis.”

Alabaster fixed the figure in the road with a disbelieving stare. It was such an outlandish claim.

“Prove it,” said Alabaster.

“You made Cerracun Ferrus cut off one of his own fingers as a permanent reminder of what you’d do to him if he failed in his promises. Grisly business that.”

Alabaster stared in utter shock. How could the man in the road know? No, Alabaster admitted to himself, the god standing in the road.

“Come. Sit and eat breakfast with me, Alabaster.”

Aedis stepped back off the road. Alabaster reluctantly dismounted and followed the god into the trees. If there was a smiting in the works, Alabaster ventured a guess that it could happen just as easily on the road as in the woods. Instead of some vengeful act, though, Aedis was sitting by a small fire stirring a pot of some kind of stew. Unlike the overcooked meal that Ferrus made, this smelled almost as good as something Onyx might make. Alabaster tied Runner to a low branch and turned to awkwardly face the incarnate deity. Aedis glanced up at Alabaster and shifted his gaze to Runner.

“Oh,” said Aedis and made a slight gesture.

A small pile of hay appeared at Runner’s feet. The horse looked down at the supernatural food. Alabaster almost heard the horse think, “Well, why not?” Then, Runner started eating the hay. Alabaster sighed and settled down on a clear spot of ground across the fire from Aedis. The god hummed quietly to himself as he stirred the pot a few more times. Then, he created a ladle, two bowls, and two spoons out of nothing. He scooped some stew into each bowl before handing one across the fire. Alabaster accepted the bowl, but didn’t immediately eat. He just held the bowl and marveled at the minor miracles the god was performing. Alabaster wondered what it would be like to wield such power. Aedis ate several bites before he gestured at Alabaster’s bowl.

“Eat. I know you don’t need it, given your nature. Still, we may as well conform to the customs. Helps us all blend in.”

Alabaster lifted a spoonful, blew on it, and obediently put it in his mouth. It wasn’t Onyx’s stew, but it was still quite good. He kept eating until the bowl was empty. Aedis ladled up another bowl for each of them, but the god only took occasional bites. Instead, he studied Alabaster with green eyes that harbored eternity. The scrutiny left Alabaster with a deep sense of unease. Eventually, he set his half-full bowl aside and looked back at Aedis. Alabaster had only come face-to-face with one god before and hadn’t expected to ever do so again. If he hadn’t known the being across the fire from him was a god, though, Alabaster wouldn’t have given him a second look. There was nothing obviously divine about Aedis in this form. It made Alabaster wonder if he’d brushed up against other gods or goddesses masquerading as mortals in his travels.

“So, what now?” Alabaster asked.

“I honestly haven’t decided yet. I don’t know what to make of you, Alabaster. On the one hand, you are what you are. That makes you an obvious threat to Onyx. I’m not usually so hands-on with my followers, but Onyx, well,” Aedis trailed off in thoughtful silence.

“She’s special,” said Alabaster.

“Yes. She is special. That makes a threat as obvious as you intolerable in most cases. Of course, you had ample opportunity to do her harm and didn’t. In fact, you acted against your nature repeatedly. Why did you show her so much restraint? Why extend those small kindnesses?”

“I owed her a debt.”

Aedis frowned. “An adequate answer. Plausible even. Enough to satisfy your belligerent god if he asked about it. Except, then there was Ferrus.”

Alabaster didn’t speak. He simply stared at Aedis.

“What you did with Ferrus was something else. You forced him into doing the right thing. How will that sit with your god?”

Alabaster gives Aedis a sardonic smile. “I made him cut off a finger. I forced him to promise to do the things that will hurt him the most. He even swore it to you. He’ll spend the rest of his life hating that he can’t profit off Onyx. He’ll spend the rest of his life hating every good thing he does for her because he’s afraid of the unspeakable retribution that will follow if he doesn’t. I’ve made his life into a hell that won’t ever stop while he draws breath. All that hate and all that hypocrisy will send him straight into one hell or another when he dies. Oh, my god will be perfectly satisfied with what I’ve done to Ferrus.”

Aedis smiles at Alabaster. “Again, perfectly plausible. Except you didn’t do it to Ferrus for your god’s approval. You did it for Onyx.”

Again, Alabaster doesn’t speak. He knows that Aedis has the right of it, but even a hint of confirmation could leave Alabaster with far bigger problems than the Stalking Men. Aedis seems to grasp the situation because he doesn’t press the issue. Instead, he stands up and walks over to Runner, laying a gentle hand on the horse’s neck. Runner nickers at the deity, seemingly unaware or uncaring of any divine protocols.

“Your kind has a terribly difficult road,” said Aedis, glancing over at Alabaster. “A long, lonely road. You did Onyx a kindness, so I’m inclined to do you a kindness.”

Alabaster felt it that time as Aedis exercised his power. There was a visible distortion around the god and Alabaster got a brief glimpse of the true Aedis. Alabaster’s mind immediately rebels and shuts those memories away behind impenetrable doors. It’s as if even that brief contact with divine truth threatens Alabaster’s sanity or, a more chilling idea, his very existence. The distortion fades and Aedis gives Runner a gentle pat on the neck.

“There,” said the self-satisfied god.

“What did you do?”

“I gave Runner more life. So long as you walk this world, Runner will not age or falter. You will always have at least one constant, one companion. Although, I suppose that’s really as much a kindness for Runner as it is for you. Here.”

Aedis turns and tosses something. Alabaster grabs it out of the air on reflex. He opens his hand and finds a worn silver coin.

“What’s this?”

“Keep it. As long as you remain worthy of Onyx, it will help shield you from the Stalking Men. It’s not enough that you can settle down and live somewhere, but it will misdirect their finding spells for a time. Remain as circumspect as you have before, and you could reasonable stop somewhere for a few weeks before moving on.”

Alabaster sat in in stunned silence as the implications settled over him. Then, he asked the only question that really mattered right then.

“Why?”

Aedis peered at him with those eternal eyes. “I have a theory. You’re my experiment.”

“What theory?”

“I think you have a soul, demon.”

~End~