Darrell J. Pursiful

Morty pushed his empty bowl of stew to the side. He leaned in, all business.

“I know some folks who might can hire you,” he said. “Nothing permanent, you understand, at least not right now. But there’s always somebody from the old neighborhood who could use a hand.”

“Thank you,” Rune said.

“Don’t go thanking me,” Morty said. “I hook you up with the right people, maybe you can do a favor for me down the line.”

“Of course.” The honor game had rules, even on this side of the Mere. Give, and receive in return. Keep the favors flowing. A hasty “thank you” might imply a one-time transaction, but this Morty obviously had his eye on the long term.

“You got skills. You told me a little about that, being trained with—” He looked around. Everyone was listening to the musicians, but he lowered his voice anyway. “With them people…and all.”

“The Haw wasn’t a bad place,” Rune said, a little defensive. “Intense, but not all bad. Whisper seemed happy to have me around.”

“Whisper,” Morty said. “He’s the one that runs the joint?”

“That’s right. He said he’d always wanted to see what I had it in me to do. He’s the one who really taught me magic. Of course, my mother and stepfather started me out when I was young. But it was Whisper who pushed me to show what I could do.”

“I expect you can do quite a bit.”

“I try to be resourceful. Think on my feet. Having the biggest sword doesn’t matter much if you don’t know how to use it. And it helps to have the right people behind you.”

“Did you? Have the right people?”

“It was a good team,” Rune said. “Even if they weren’t always doing good things.”

“I aint’ here to judge,” Morty said. “Folks don’t get a say in the cards the Good Earth deals ‘em.”

Rune just nodded. He was coming to like this Morty Grindle.

“Any of ‘em you’d call friends?”

“One. Goodfellow. Avice was the team leader. She tried to make things hard for me. She succeeded in making things hard for me. But Goodfellow always took my part.”

“Most have been hard to stand up to her, being the team leader and all.”

“Goodfellow’s family was as well-placed as mine. It limited what Avice could do to him…openly. And, to give him credit, he was fierce in a fight. You didn’t want to cross him if you could help it. But being my friend cost him at least one relationship—another Nightwalker he’d taken a fancy to. I suppose I’ll always owe him for fouling that up for him.”

“D’you think you’ll ever see him again?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.”

“But suppose you did. What would you tell him?”

Rune stopped to think a minute. “I’d say thank you. I’d tell him… he taught me a lot—about loyalty and perseverance and…compassion, I suppose you’d say.”

“He sounds like a real friend.”

“He is,” Rune said. He swallowed. He looked down and pushed his own half-eaten bowl of stew to the side. “He was.”

Rune’s contact seemed unimpressive: short and apparently uncomfortable in his ill-fitting clothing—an outfit meant for a human form, though this Morty Grindle was anything but. Some might take his heavy brow and broad back as evidence of limited intelligence, but Rune saw the glint in his eye.

The waymaker said he needed to meet this man. If he wanted to get along in this new world, he’d need contacts, and Morty Grindle had the reputation of knowing just about everybody.

“You settled in, then?” he said. He swallowed a bite of stew. On the other side of the room, a band played “Creep” by Radiohead on tin whistle and hurdy-gurdy.

Rune just shrugged.

“It takes a while,” Morty continued. “The Fallow ain’t like home, but it ain’t bad. Have you tried ice cream yet?”

“Just last week,” Rune said. “My landlord’s daughter calls it ‘comfort food.’”

“That ain’t far wrong. You got a favorite flavor?”

“So far I’ve only tried strawberry. It was quite good.” Rune took a sip of his yaupon tea, grateful that Gamaufry Tavern had at least some of the pleasures of home. “I’ve always loved strawberries. My mother kept a strawberry patch. Or I should say, the servants did, out behind the carriage house. I used to sneak away to visit them. Clervie fed me strawberries.”

“You won’t have no problem finding strawberries around here in the summer. Servants…that’s another thing.”

“I understand. Fallow folk have machines to do their work. Servants are…out of fashion, I suppose.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice way of saying it. But I could tell from looking at you you’d come from a house with servants.”

“We had three cabins full,” Rune said. “Clervie and Malunthy and their children. And then there were Dollick and Caelia who looked after the grounds and gardens. And then when Caelia was expecting their first baby, Mother brought on Quamp and Cabma to help them.”

“And you got with them all? ‘Cause I gotta warn you, folks in the Fallow will judge you if you start acting like you’re better than other people.”

Rune paused. Things had changed, and quite abruptly, when he took leave of the King of Shadows. Back home, he’d now be considered an outlaw. Clervie and the rest were now his betters, at least by Saynim’s strict code of honor.

“Just fine,” he said. “Maybe too good.”

Morty sat there, waiting for him to say more.

“I was young. I didn’t understand that the son of Herdis of the house of Claea wasn’t supposed to rub elbows with the help. Let’s just say strawberries were a rare treat.”

“A little rebel, huh?” Morty chuckled. “I hope hanging out with the help didn’t get you in no trouble.”

“Not…directly.”

“Not directly?”

Rune sighed. “Clervie and Malunthy’s youngest was about my age. Jussie. We would play together in the vineyards. Somehow Mother got it into her head that… I mean, it’s ridiculous. We were only thirteen years old.”

“She thought there might be something developing between you two?”

He nodded. “She turned her into a fawn.”

Morty’s mouth dropped open.

Rune stared at his stew. His face warmed.

“I’m sorry. You mean she just…”

“You heard what I said.” Rune took another sip of tea and collected his thoughts. “She kept her that way for a week. Her parents were beside themselves. When Mother finally turned her back, she told me I should be grateful she didn’t do worse”

Morty took a long drink of his beer. “That’s…something.”

“That’s my mother.”

“Is this a bad time?” Zoey said.

“Not at all.” Rune took a step back and welcomed his landlord’s daughter into his mother-in-law apartment. She had a stack of linens in her arms.

“Mom thought you could use these.” She handed over the linens and pushed her spectacles up to the bridge of her nose. “Said you’d probably prefer plain white bedding to the yellow flowers. Those were my Grandma’s. We just never bothered to change ‘em out.”

“Either are fine,” Rune said. “Thank you.”

“So, I guess you’re staying here a little longer?” Her voice was bright, hopeful.

“One step at a time,” he said. “I’m seeing somebody tomorrow about a job. Someone from…back home, I suppose you’d say.” Zoey was the only living soul who knew that Rune wasn’t from here, that technically speaking he wasn’t exactly human. So far, she had adjusted to that news surprisingly well.

“A friend of yours?”

“We’ve never met, but I’m told he’s well connected. If the wind blows right, I’ll be able to pay this month’s rent. After that, who knows?”

“Well, you know you’re welcome to stay as long as you want, right?” She bit her lip. Her eyes never left his face.

“Is something wrong?”

“Huh? No.” Zoey’s face warmed. “It’s just…funny how the wind seems to blow through your hair. I mean. Here. Inside, where there isn’t any wind.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He pulled his ponytail tighter through the leather barette that held his hair in place. “Please thank your mother for the bedding.”

“Sure thing.” She didn’t turn to go. “Are you…okay, then? Anything else you need?”

Rune sighed. He was on the run, low on supplies, and in possession of stolen property that could get him killed. He still had a half-healed stab wound in his side and a phantom pressure on his throat from where his cloak had tried to kill him. What didn’t he need? “I’ll be fine.”

“Is there anything you miss? Something to make this place a little more like home?”

He clenched his jaw. “I don’t suppose you could do anything about the stars?”

“The stars?”

“Back home, the night sky was filled with them. Thousands of them. Here, you can only see a few dozen.”

“I see.”

Rune wasn’t sure she did. “The stars… It’s hard to explain. They’re constant. Ancient. Inscrutable.”

“It sounds like you’re talking about living things.”

“Maybe I am. They’re connected to everything else in the universe, products of the same elemental forces that surge within all of us. They may not possess life or intelligence, but they reflect it.”

“I never thought of it like that.”

“It may be something your people lack,” Rune said. He noted Zoey’s frown and continued, “No offense. Maybe it’s because you don’t have magic, but you don’t seem to be aware of all the life and energy around you. Do you even know what phase the moon is in tonight?”

“Uh…”

“In Saynim, everybody knows. It’s the little things. We feel the pulse of elemental chaos. Maybe that makes us more attentive. When I look up at the stars, the moon, it reminds me that I’m part of something bigger than myself.”

He lay the bedding on the arm of the sofa in his small sitting room. “I’m sorry. I should have offered you a seat. Would you like something to drink? I have…water.”

“It’s okay.” Zoey took a seat on the sofa.

“I’m not a fit host, I’m afraid. Back home, we had servants to…” He trailed off when he saw Zoey’s confused and suddenly withdrawn expression. “Well, anyway…” He found a plastic tumbler in the cabinet of his tiny kitchen, dropped in a couple of ice cubes from the refrigerator, and poured it full from the tap in the sink.

“Thanks,” Zoey said when he offered her the drink. She took a sip. Rune sat down on the other end of the sofa.

“Rune? What do you see when you look at the night sky?”

He thought for a second. “Beauty,” he said. To his own surprise, his voice cracked a little. “Stillness. Rest.”

“Seems like your life hasn’t had much stillness or rest lately.”

He sighed. “And that’s why I miss the stars.”

* * *

The shadow falls October 1.