HOME | DD

Description
Chapter Three: A Promise Kept

Jasper can be the most contrary of men when he is in a temper. One second he will be quietly studying a piece of parchment, determining the fee's the various guilds in the city owed him in taxes; the next he is trying to pull his hair out and shouting for everyone to leave the room. Even if no one is there.

I came to him on one of his temperamental days.

My guide left me outside Jasper's door and when I pushed it open, I found the King of Thieves moodily ripping apart various documents as he muttered vulgar oaths under his breath. I simply stood there and waited. I know Jasper must have been aware of my presence but he stubbornly did not look my way until he was completely finished with shredding the parchment. Then, satisfied, he smiled a brilliant, boyish smile, and said,"Welcome Terry how is your mother?"

"She is well." I replied quietly, not quite trusting his grin.

"And your sister?"

"She is the same."

"Your father?"

I paused and said nothing. Jasper's smile did not fade but the ironic glitter in his pale-blue eyes told me that he knew very well that my father was dead. There are days where I swear that the man was not quite right in the head and needed a good amount of sense knocked into him. But I simply assumed he wished to make me react by being cruel.

"Oh right, yes, yes, "Jasper chuckled, "I quite forgot about that. Pardon me, boy, I've only the greatest of sympathies for you and your dear family."

"'Tis quite understood," I told him, not dropping to his level, though I do wish I had told him to shove it. "A man in your position has more important things than to remember the death of a man of little importance, whose end came slowly and without great fuss, a long while since passed." I think not playing along was a bad idea but I hate it when people act above themselves. The whole idea of being high and mighty is quite honestly a load of horse dung. A man is a man, and his actions should match his words not his rank. A title is simply a name before a name that makes folk think their somehow special and their blood bluer than the rest.

Jasper took my dismissal of his game badly, as if I had insulted him then slapped him across the face with the back of my hand. He clenched the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. His temper is certainly something I quickly learned to watch. For all his appearing cool and collected, a perfect gentleman of the finest breeding, his true nature lay hidden beneath the thin surface, always lurking and ready to boil over.

"My lordship, are you quite alright?" I asked as innocently as possible, but it was a hard task to manage since I knew very well that he was ready to explode.

With narrowed eyes and clenched teeth, Jasper replied with an agitated hiss, "Yes, I'm quite alright…"

"Then sir, would you please tell me why you have a death grip on that well meaning scrap of wood?" That was a bad question to ask. The edge Jasper had between his hands splintered. We both watched each other, his eyes filled with acid and I fear my own might have contained a little too much self-assurance. Acting cocky was not going to earn me any respect, but it was rather hard to keep a straight face when I knew I had won. Conceited of me, I know, to think, to realize, to be aware of, the advantage I have over Jasper when he is in this sort of mindset.

My temper is contained, my remarks made with a cool head, and all Jasper can do is simmer in his own arrogant fumes.

"BOY!" Jasper roared, but he made no movements from he stood behind his desk. I flinched. I know I did. But it is quite impossible not to when I was aware of what the Thief King is capable of. The King has magic, strong magic, the kind that makes people nervous just hearing about it. Like myself it is a natural gift, it requires no tutoring to master simply a healthy dose of control. Where I speak words that can charm and captivate, he throws energy. Great, giant gusts of energy that vary in intensity depending on his mood. No one can see it coming; they just feel a ball of pressure slam into their gut as it throws them back against a wall.

I heard that he had more than once killed folk who made him angry without laying a finger on them. His gift had slammed into them and broken ribs and ruptured organs. But showing fear was only going to earn me guff later, so I raised my chin a little higher and met his fury with as cool an expression as possible. How silly I must look. A wiry little elf boy in an oversized gray cloak facing down a towering monarch who earned his throne through murder and manipulation.

"Boy," Jasper muttered, his eyes still narrowed but his voice lowered considerably, "I have a feeling that you will more than gladly test my patience 'till I throttle that insolent expression off your smug little face."

Smiling coldly I replied, "My lord, you must have a reason for summoning me other than to your desire to strangle some hapless fool who gets too close for their own good."

"Clever boy," he said, a razor of a smile playing on his lips as he lowered himself into his chair. "I will not throttle you today. Perhaps tomorrow, but not today. I need something from you. A favor. A task that should suit you quite favorably."

"I am at your command, my lord."

"Good boy, now, listen closely…" Jasper lowered his voice yet again and I soon realized that for all he was crude, dishonest and cruel; he was a man of his word. He promised me that by signing the contract and becoming his heir I would be securing a future for my family. And by the Goddess, it was a promise he planned to keep. All that was required of me was to play my part as Prince of Thieves and speak with the people Jasper sent me to bargain with, and everything would be set in motion.

***

The bell above the door let out a jingle as I entered the dress store. Its whitewashed walls and clean swept floor made a suiting backdrop to all the bright folds of cloth that lay out on wide tables of 'Little Lords and Ladies' main room. I must have looked lost as I walked through a maze of Ladies gowns in search of something suitable for Mama to wear. Because soon I had a pair of unfriendly eyes settled on me as I felt fabric and tried to imagine my mama in different colors and cuts.

It was part of Jasper's plan. Apparently, the storeowner owed him a favor of some sort.

"May I help you?" Demanded the snappish observer, whom when I looked her way seemed to take a step back in recognition. She was a matronly sort of woman with fine skin and clear-blue eyes and hair white as mid-winter frost. I nodded as I remembered who she was as well.

"Aye, "I replied, my tone friendly,"Mrs. Dirkley, but might I say ye look awful lovely today." I flashed a smile and did my best to sway her favor. "And where is Miss Amelia? I haven't seen her since last spring. I'd be might nice to see her again."

Mrs. Dirkley found a smile and shook her head. "Terry, what are you doing here?"

I felt my own smile fade from my face before I was ready to let it drop.

"Now lad, don't tell me you were planning on stealing, now were you? Your mama would be dreadfully upset." The concern in her voice matched the expression on her face. She always did want the best for my mama and me. Our families are friends. Mama with her. I with their daughter, Amelia. And my father was with her husband.

"No, ma'am." I told her honestly. "I came here to speak with the storeowner."

She raised a brow and folded her arms. "You are speaking with the storeowner, lad. Now what is this all about?"

I sighed and began to tell her what Jasper had told me. By order of the King of Thieves, I was there to collect payment on a favor in the form of goods. A dress and the necessary accessories to go with it. Once delivered, all debt will be voided.

Mrs. Dirkley paused and watched me for a long time, sadness in her eyes. "Now Terry," She began, before glancing from side to side. "How did you get involved with the likes of The Thief King? Didn't your mama tell you to stay away from folk like him?"

"Aye, she did. As for me knowing Jasper, I can't say I sought him out. Just, will ye work with me, please?" My heart began to beat rapidly inside my chest as I waited for her answer. She looked down at me then she nodded and said,"I owe much to the man, even if he is a crooked king. A favor such as this I will make good on."

"Thank you," I whispered.

She bore into me with a distant gaze before saying in a cryptic voice softer than my own, "Thank me not, Terry, I am very disappointed in you. You are such a good boy. I hope Jasper does not take that virtue away when he leads you down the unlawful path. I warn you now, no one who serves the crooked king leaves his service with same ignorance and innocence they came into it with. Jasper himself is proof of that. He stood in your shoes many years ago. Bright and full of life. Changed man he is, all his love of life stripped away, leaving him a shadow, a shell, and nothing like the boy he left behind when he came into Farlough's circle. Be wary, boy, because if are not careful, you will lose more than your friends and your identity…"

Mrs. Dirkley straightened her spine and lightly ran her hands over the front of her dress.

"Ma'am?" I asked tentatively, wondering if now was the right time to speak.

She strode past me, silent, but as she neared the opposite side of the room she glanced over her shoulder and asked lightly,"Still here, Terry?" I took the hint and ducked out of the store, my head low. And as I made my way into the dust of the streets, I heard he call out, "Return here at week's end. Your order shall be ready then."

Trusting her word and her ability as a dressmaker as well as her friendship towards my mama, I jogged away. Again my mind whirled, plaguing me. Like flies buzzing around my head, my thoughts avoided my every attempt to grab them and make sense of them. I closed my eyes as I sought a moment of peace in a darkened alleyway. Mama always said I saw too much, heard too much and thought too little before I acted upon all that harried my senses. Now my mind would not stop churning even after I forced out all sights and sounds.

I covered my ears and took in a deep breath, wondering if my life would ever make sense again.

***

The week passed by quicker than I dreamed it would. Between seeking out the people Jasper bade me to bargain with and the lessons he and mama teach me, I found hardly any time to rest, much less worry about the future. The combination of endless hours of grammar, script, numerals and lessons of other sorts in the morn and law, politics, and combat training in the eve made for a numbing ritual of sorts. Mama never asked me where I went at night as long as she woke up with me home come daybreak. She is worried, though; I see it in her eyes as she watches me shape my letters from the other side of the room.

Mirage is perhaps one of few comforts I indulged in during this time. She may only be my half-sister, but I love her dearly. She is quiet for an infant and rather happy. She smiles a lot and reaches up to touch my face whenever she sees me frowning. I have a feeling she will be a wonderful person someday, bright and in love with life. I do hope so. Someone in this family needs to be happy rather than clinging desperate to the edge between misery and faith.

I have heard folk say that infants are unpleasant, especially for little boys. I could not disagree more, but I do wish I knew why my little sister makes me so at ease. Perhaps it is her eyes; they have changed now to green like mama's and my own, so round with innocence and sparkling with depths of which no words can describe. I cannot help but hold her close to me whenever I can. Sometimes, I admit, I feel as if my time with her is to be short lived. As if the sands of an hourglass are pouring away and out of my grasp, each grain is another second, minute, day…

***

"Terry, either go to bed or write the verses, don't fall asleep on wet ink," Mama muttered when I nodded off during my lessons. I lifted my chin up and pressed the tip of my quill against the parchment. She was right, ink is expensive and smearing it across half my face was not an economical usage. But… My eyelids drooped and my chin connected with the corner of the old wooden table Mama used for nearly everything. The pain sent sparks through my entire jaw and I bolted upright, my hand cradling my injury.

Mama shook her head and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sleep," she whispered, "today's lesson can wait 'till you can stay awake…" Blinking away the fog that enveloped my senses, I staggered towards my pallet in the corner. The moment I laid my head down, I fell deeply into the darkness of sleep. No dreams graced me, in fact, I hardly felt as if I had rested more than a few minutes before I was being shaken awake.

"Huh…?" I drawled groggily,"Wha' goin' on? I'm tired…" My eyelids fluttered and my whole body felt heavy and gelatinous as I tried to prop my weight up on my elbows.

"I know son," Mama whispered as she attempted to stroke my hair smooth, "but I believe that you will feel much more awake when you see who is at the door…"

Panicked at the possibility that it was someone from the Thief City, I leapt from my pallet and did my best not to crash into anything as I stumbled to the door. Heart racing, I slowly eased the lopsided plank of wood out of the entryway and looked at the person who stood behind it. Mama had been right, I did feel more awake when I saw who it was.

"Amelia!" I whooped before I flung my arms around her shoulders. She giggled and squeezed me around the middle, nearly forcing all the air out of my lungs. Amelia was strong, it came from a life of labor trademark of the lower class Quertan's . I had not seen her in over a year, but so little had changed and for that, I was happy.

Her long autumn colored hair fell down her back in a glossy cascade rather than being tied up into a fashionable series of plaits and knots, her naturally cream-colored skin had a healthy, sun kissed glow with just a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes, like a forest pool in summer, glittered green and calm. She smiled at me as she released my waist and I rested my hands atop her arms. The simple brown smock she wore over an equally plain fawn dress only brought out the youthful, innocent beauty that she radiated. So natural and passive, as if only needing tipped ears to pass as an elf.

I quirked an awkward smile onto my mouth before asking, "What brings ye here?"

"Mother says to tell you that your order is ready… Terry, whatever did you buy?" Amelia's voice fits her perfectly, soft and gentle with just a hint of playfulness. She tries so hard to be serious but the laughter inside her soul never remained completely hidden for long. I might have melted right then and there, but hearing her question made me tense." Terry?"

Shaking away the rigidity in my torso, I let out an airy sigh and said, "A present for Mama."

Amelia grinned. "Oh," she cooed, "How sweet of you. Your mother is very lucky to have a son like you who is so good to her…"

"Yes…" I mumbled," A son like me…"

"Terry?" Her voice was frightfully soft.

I looked up.

"Do you want to walk with me? It's getting dark and…"

"Say no more," I told her, letting my hands fall to my sides, "I will take ye home." I made sure to smile as brightly as I could. Before I left, I glanced towards my mama, she sat at her loom, long threads of wool slipping between her fingers as she wove cloth with aged mastery. I whispered goodbye, then I followed Amelia out into the street. Dusky shadows enveloped most of Querta. It was time for the thieves to begin their rounds and for the blue bloods to secret themselves away in their fancy marble houses.

Down the street, a lamp flickered on, it's magical glow dancing like a faraway firefly. I could barely see the faded outline of the street mage who monitored the lights and carefully sculpted their special glow. Amelia tugged at my sleeve and I tore my eyes away from the enthralling scene that had lain so peacefully before me. It would have made the perfect painting: a weathered man in modest robes, walking beneath the firefly glow of a lamp as he headed deeper into the shadows of the coming night. A scene impossible to capture in words but so possible to preserve in oils.

My mind wandered the entire walk to Amelia's home; fortunately, she asked no questions. Just like Amelia… Somehow, she always knew when to speak and what to say, and when to be silent and the let the silence say more than words ever could. When we at last parted, she squeezed my hand. Her mother had brought out a carefully wrapped bundle for me to take to Mama and I held it beneath one arm.

"Thank you, Terry… "Amelia said with flawless grace, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. " I will see you again soon, yes? You will call."

Remembering the manners Mama taught me, I bent awkwardly at the waist and kissed her hand. She giggled as I rose up. Both our faces were sure to have been equal shades of red as I replied courteously, "I shall call upon ye, if that is yer wish." The expression on my face made Amelia let out a peal of laughter, with which I joined.

"Tomorrow then?" I asked.

"Tomorrow." She confirmed before once again taking my hand in her own. "Take care to keep your promise, Terry." With that, she let me go and raced inside her home. I stared at the door for a moment before realizing that she had left something in my hand that I now had secure in a protective fist. Uncurling my fingers, I glanced at my palm. There, sparkling like a small gem was a tiny shell button with a design delicately etched around the rim. I tightened my grasp on the button and walked away.

Description
Chapter Three: A Promise Kept

Jasper can be the most contrary of men when he is in a temper. One second he will be quietly studying a piece of parchment, determining the fee's the various guilds in the city owed him in taxes; the next he is trying to pull his hair out and shouting for everyone to leave the room. Even if no one is there.

I came to him on one of his temperamental days.

My guide left me outside Jasper's door and when I pushed it open, I found the King of Thieves moodily ripping apart various documents as he muttered vulgar oaths under his breath. I simply stood there and waited. I know Jasper must have been aware of my presence but he stubbornly did not look my way until he was completely finished with shredding the parchment. Then, satisfied, he smiled a brilliant, boyish smile, and said,"Welcome Terry how is your mother?"

"She is well." I replied quietly, not quite trusting his grin.

"And your sister?"

"She is the same."

"Your father?"

I paused and said nothing. Jasper's smile did not fade but the ironic glitter in his pale-blue eyes told me that he knew very well that my father was dead. There are days where I swear that the man was not quite right in the head and needed a good amount of sense knocked into him. But I simply assumed he wished to make me react by being cruel.

"Oh right, yes, yes, "Jasper chuckled, "I quite forgot about that. Pardon me, boy, I've only the greatest of sympathies for you and your dear family."

"'Tis quite understood," I told him, not dropping to his level, though I do wish I had told him to shove it. "A man in your position has more important things than to remember the death of a man of little importance, whose end came slowly and without great fuss, a long while since passed." I think not playing along was a bad idea but I hate it when people act above themselves. The whole idea of being high and mighty is quite honestly a load of horse dung. A man is a man, and his actions should match his words not his rank. A title is simply a name before a name that makes folk think their somehow special and their blood bluer than the rest.

Jasper took my dismissal of his game badly, as if I had insulted him then slapped him across the face with the back of my hand. He clenched the edge of his desk until his knuckles turned white. His temper is certainly something I quickly learned to watch. For all his appearing cool and collected, a perfect gentleman of the finest breeding, his true nature lay hidden beneath the thin surface, always lurking and ready to boil over.

"My lordship, are you quite alright?" I asked as innocently as possible, but it was a hard task to manage since I knew very well that he was ready to explode.

With narrowed eyes and clenched teeth, Jasper replied with an agitated hiss, "Yes, I'm quite alright…"

"Then sir, would you please tell me why you have a death grip on that well meaning scrap of wood?" That was a bad question to ask. The edge Jasper had between his hands splintered. We both watched each other, his eyes filled with acid and I fear my own might have contained a little too much self-assurance. Acting cocky was not going to earn me any respect, but it was rather hard to keep a straight face when I knew I had won. Conceited of me, I know, to think, to realize, to be aware of, the advantage I have over Jasper when he is in this sort of mindset.

My temper is contained, my remarks made with a cool head, and all Jasper can do is simmer in his own arrogant fumes.

"BOY!" Jasper roared, but he made no movements from he stood behind his desk. I flinched. I know I did. But it is quite impossible not to when I was aware of what the Thief King is capable of. The King has magic, strong magic, the kind that makes people nervous just hearing about it. Like myself it is a natural gift, it requires no tutoring to master simply a healthy dose of control. Where I speak words that can charm and captivate, he throws energy. Great, giant gusts of energy that vary in intensity depending on his mood. No one can see it coming; they just feel a ball of pressure slam into their gut as it throws them back against a wall.

I heard that he had more than once killed folk who made him angry without laying a finger on them. His gift had slammed into them and broken ribs and ruptured organs. But showing fear was only going to earn me guff later, so I raised my chin a little higher and met his fury with as cool an expression as possible. How silly I must look. A wiry little elf boy in an oversized gray cloak facing down a towering monarch who earned his throne through murder and manipulation.

"Boy," Jasper muttered, his eyes still narrowed but his voice lowered considerably, "I have a feeling that you will more than gladly test my patience 'till I throttle that insolent expression off your smug little face."

Smiling coldly I replied, "My lord, you must have a reason for summoning me other than to your desire to strangle some hapless fool who gets too close for their own good."

"Clever boy," he said, a razor of a smile playing on his lips as he lowered himself into his chair. "I will not throttle you today. Perhaps tomorrow, but not today. I need something from you. A favor. A task that should suit you quite favorably."

"I am at your command, my lord."

"Good boy, now, listen closely…" Jasper lowered his voice yet again and I soon realized that for all he was crude, dishonest and cruel; he was a man of his word. He promised me that by signing the contract and becoming his heir I would be securing a future for my family. And by the Goddess, it was a promise he planned to keep. All that was required of me was to play my part as Prince of Thieves and speak with the people Jasper sent me to bargain with, and everything would be set in motion.

***

The bell above the door let out a jingle as I entered the dress store. Its whitewashed walls and clean swept floor made a suiting backdrop to all the bright folds of cloth that lay out on wide tables of 'Little Lords and Ladies' main room. I must have looked lost as I walked through a maze of Ladies gowns in search of something suitable for Mama to wear. Because soon I had a pair of unfriendly eyes settled on me as I felt fabric and tried to imagine my mama in different colors and cuts.

It was part of Jasper's plan. Apparently, the storeowner owed him a favor of some sort.

"May I help you?" Demanded the snappish observer, whom when I looked her way seemed to take a step back in recognition. She was a matronly sort of woman with fine skin and clear-blue eyes and hair white as mid-winter frost. I nodded as I remembered who she was as well.

"Aye, "I replied, my tone friendly,"Mrs. Dirkley, but might I say ye look awful lovely today." I flashed a smile and did my best to sway her favor. "And where is Miss Amelia? I haven't seen her since last spring. I'd be might nice to see her again."

Mrs. Dirkley found a smile and shook her head. "Terry, what are you doing here?"

I felt my own smile fade from my face before I was ready to let it drop.

"Now lad, don't tell me you were planning on stealing, now were you? Your mama would be dreadfully upset." The concern in her voice matched the expression on her face. She always did want the best for my mama and me. Our families are friends. Mama with her. I with their daughter, Amelia. And my father was with her husband.

"No, ma'am." I told her honestly. "I came here to speak with the storeowner."

She raised a brow and folded her arms. "You are speaking with the storeowner, lad. Now what is this all about?"

I sighed and began to tell her what Jasper had told me. By order of the King of Thieves, I was there to collect payment on a favor in the form of goods. A dress and the necessary accessories to go with it. Once delivered, all debt will be voided.

Mrs. Dirkley paused and watched me for a long time, sadness in her eyes. "Now Terry," She began, before glancing from side to side. "How did you get involved with the likes of The Thief King? Didn't your mama tell you to stay away from folk like him?"

"Aye, she did. As for me knowing Jasper, I can't say I sought him out. Just, will ye work with me, please?" My heart began to beat rapidly inside my chest as I waited for her answer. She looked down at me then she nodded and said,"I owe much to the man, even if he is a crooked king. A favor such as this I will make good on."

"Thank you," I whispered.

She bore into me with a distant gaze before saying in a cryptic voice softer than my own, "Thank me not, Terry, I am very disappointed in you. You are such a good boy. I hope Jasper does not take that virtue away when he leads you down the unlawful path. I warn you now, no one who serves the crooked king leaves his service with same ignorance and innocence they came into it with. Jasper himself is proof of that. He stood in your shoes many years ago. Bright and full of life. Changed man he is, all his love of life stripped away, leaving him a shadow, a shell, and nothing like the boy he left behind when he came into Farlough's circle. Be wary, boy, because if are not careful, you will lose more than your friends and your identity…"

Mrs. Dirkley straightened her spine and lightly ran her hands over the front of her dress.

"Ma'am?" I asked tentatively, wondering if now was the right time to speak.

She strode past me, silent, but as she neared the opposite side of the room she glanced over her shoulder and asked lightly,"Still here, Terry?" I took the hint and ducked out of the store, my head low. And as I made my way into the dust of the streets, I heard he call out, "Return here at week's end. Your order shall be ready then."

Trusting her word and her ability as a dressmaker as well as her friendship towards my mama, I jogged away. Again my mind whirled, plaguing me. Like flies buzzing around my head, my thoughts avoided my every attempt to grab them and make sense of them. I closed my eyes as I sought a moment of peace in a darkened alleyway. Mama always said I saw too much, heard too much and thought too little before I acted upon all that harried my senses. Now my mind would not stop churning even after I forced out all sights and sounds.

I covered my ears and took in a deep breath, wondering if my life would ever make sense again.

***

The week passed by quicker than I dreamed it would. Between seeking out the people Jasper bade me to bargain with and the lessons he and mama teach me, I found hardly any time to rest, much less worry about the future. The combination of endless hours of grammar, script, numerals and lessons of other sorts in the morn and law, politics, and combat training in the eve made for a numbing ritual of sorts. Mama never asked me where I went at night as long as she woke up with me home come daybreak. She is worried, though; I see it in her eyes as she watches me shape my letters from the other side of the room.

Mirage is perhaps one of few comforts I indulged in during this time. She may only be my half-sister, but I love her dearly. She is quiet for an infant and rather happy. She smiles a lot and reaches up to touch my face whenever she sees me frowning. I have a feeling she will be a wonderful person someday, bright and in love with life. I do hope so. Someone in this family needs to be happy rather than clinging desperate to the edge between misery and faith.

I have heard folk say that infants are unpleasant, especially for little boys. I could not disagree more, but I do wish I knew why my little sister makes me so at ease. Perhaps it is her eyes; they have changed now to green like mama's and my own, so round with innocence and sparkling with depths of which no words can describe. I cannot help but hold her close to me whenever I can. Sometimes, I admit, I feel as if my time with her is to be short lived. As if the sands of an hourglass are pouring away and out of my grasp, each grain is another second, minute, day…

***

"Terry, either go to bed or write the verses, don't fall asleep on wet ink," Mama muttered when I nodded off during my lessons. I lifted my chin up and pressed the tip of my quill against the parchment. She was right, ink is expensive and smearing it across half my face was not an economical usage. But… My eyelids drooped and my chin connected with the corner of the old wooden table Mama used for nearly everything. The pain sent sparks through my entire jaw and I bolted upright, my hand cradling my injury.

Mama shook her head and placed a hand on my shoulder. "Sleep," she whispered, "today's lesson can wait 'till you can stay awake…" Blinking away the fog that enveloped my senses, I staggered towards my pallet in the corner. The moment I laid my head down, I fell deeply into the darkness of sleep. No dreams graced me, in fact, I hardly felt as if I had rested more than a few minutes before I was being shaken awake.

"Huh…?" I drawled groggily,"Wha' goin' on? I'm tired…" My eyelids fluttered and my whole body felt heavy and gelatinous as I tried to prop my weight up on my elbows.

"I know son," Mama whispered as she attempted to stroke my hair smooth, "but I believe that you will feel much more awake when you see who is at the door…"

Panicked at the possibility that it was someone from the Thief City, I leapt from my pallet and did my best not to crash into anything as I stumbled to the door. Heart racing, I slowly eased the lopsided plank of wood out of the entryway and looked at the person who stood behind it. Mama had been right, I did feel more awake when I saw who it was.

"Amelia!" I whooped before I flung my arms around her shoulders. She giggled and squeezed me around the middle, nearly forcing all the air out of my lungs. Amelia was strong, it came from a life of labor trademark of the lower class Quertan's . I had not seen her in over a year, but so little had changed and for that, I was happy.

Her long autumn colored hair fell down her back in a glossy cascade rather than being tied up into a fashionable series of plaits and knots, her naturally cream-colored skin had a healthy, sun kissed glow with just a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her eyes, like a forest pool in summer, glittered green and calm. She smiled at me as she released my waist and I rested my hands atop her arms. The simple brown smock she wore over an equally plain fawn dress only brought out the youthful, innocent beauty that she radiated. So natural and passive, as if only needing tipped ears to pass as an elf.

I quirked an awkward smile onto my mouth before asking, "What brings ye here?"

"Mother says to tell you that your order is ready… Terry, whatever did you buy?" Amelia's voice fits her perfectly, soft and gentle with just a hint of playfulness. She tries so hard to be serious but the laughter inside her soul never remained completely hidden for long. I might have melted right then and there, but hearing her question made me tense." Terry?"

Shaking away the rigidity in my torso, I let out an airy sigh and said, "A present for Mama."

Amelia grinned. "Oh," she cooed, "How sweet of you. Your mother is very lucky to have a son like you who is so good to her…"

"Yes…" I mumbled," A son like me…"

"Terry?" Her voice was frightfully soft.

I looked up.

"Do you want to walk with me? It's getting dark and…"

"Say no more," I told her, letting my hands fall to my sides, "I will take ye home." I made sure to smile as brightly as I could. Before I left, I glanced towards my mama, she sat at her loom, long threads of wool slipping between her fingers as she wove cloth with aged mastery. I whispered goodbye, then I followed Amelia out into the street. Dusky shadows enveloped most of Querta. It was time for the thieves to begin their rounds and for the blue bloods to secret themselves away in their fancy marble houses.

Down the street, a lamp flickered on, it's magical glow dancing like a faraway firefly. I could barely see the faded outline of the street mage who monitored the lights and carefully sculpted their special glow. Amelia tugged at my sleeve and I tore my eyes away from the enthralling scene that had lain so peacefully before me. It would have made the perfect painting: a weathered man in modest robes, walking beneath the firefly glow of a lamp as he headed deeper into the shadows of the coming night. A scene impossible to capture in words but so possible to preserve in oils.

My mind wandered the entire walk to Amelia's home; fortunately, she asked no questions. Just like Amelia… Somehow, she always knew when to speak and what to say, and when to be silent and the let the silence say more than words ever could. When we at last parted, she squeezed my hand. Her mother had brought out a carefully wrapped bundle for me to take to Mama and I held it beneath one arm.

"Thank you, Terry… "Amelia said with flawless grace, her cheeks a pretty shade of pink. " I will see you again soon, yes? You will call."

Remembering the manners Mama taught me, I bent awkwardly at the waist and kissed her hand. She giggled as I rose up. Both our faces were sure to have been equal shades of red as I replied courteously, "I shall call upon ye, if that is yer wish." The expression on my face made Amelia let out a peal of laughter, with which I joined.

"Tomorrow then?" I asked.

"Tomorrow." She confirmed before once again taking my hand in her own. "Take care to keep your promise, Terry." With that, she let me go and raced inside her home. I stared at the door for a moment before realizing that she had left something in my hand that I now had secure in a protective fist. Uncurling my fingers, I glanced at my palm. There, sparkling like a small gem was a tiny shell button with a design delicately etched around the rim. I tightened my grasp on the button and walked away.