Notes: a brief diversion today before we hunt down the rest of the plot ;)
Title: Quaint Escapes for Traitorous Bastards: Interlude: Avery
***
Interlude: Avery
To Be or Not To Be
One of the most wondrous things about Narion was his capacity for deep insight. His eyes might have been rendered useless by a battle gone bad, but he had the ability to sense things that eyes wouldn’t always pick up on anyhow. He was the only person Avery could go to after his disastrous meeting with Marlon, the only one he knew he could show his weaknesses to without fear. Avery might not be able to speak under that bardic bastard’s geis, but Narion didn’t need him to speak after they’d spent so many years together.
“Sit with me,” the elderly elf said kindly as he drew Avery over to his table. Not the scarred workbench in the front room of his shop, both practical and a boast for those who were incredulous that he could do his job. This was a small, round wood table made from a tree so ancient Narion’s elven ancestors might have worshipped it. When those trees fell, pieces of it were distributed to clan members to make into an object that would be used. Utilitarian, but beautiful—a way for them to keep their faith close and remind them that change would always come, but it didn’t have to be the end of everything.
Avery tried not to feel resentful about that as he stared down at the warm, polished wood. It’s the end of everything this time. It is. Everything I have and am and things I barely had a moment to treasure…
“Tea?” Narion asked as he cleared away the remnants of his breakfast.
Avery cleared his throat. “Yes, please.” He watched Narion’s long fingers brush over the fronts of his herb jars before stopping on the last one. He opened it, and the scent of fresh lemonmint permeated the room. Avery hadn’t had this tea since he’d cared for Hiram, brought him into his home…his den…and made him a part of it. The scent of him still lingered there, renewed by every moment they spent together.
Now it would go stale and eventually fade away altogether.
Narion poured from a hot kettle, added honey to the mug, and set it down in front of Avery. He sat himself and held out a hand.
For a moment, Avery hesitated. He’d already drawn Narion so deep into his problems, why bother him with this one? When there was nothing he could do but feel bad about it after the fact? Perhaps he’d be better off pulling away, standing up and taking his leave and—
“Dear boy. Please.”
Tears welled up in Avery’s eyes. Narion was the first and only person to treat him as family since the death of his mother. He’d done so ever since their adventuring days, and never pushed Avery away even when he knew he clung too hard. He took a low, shuddering breath, closed his eyes, and held out his hand. Narion took it gently, and Avery relaxed into the reading with relief. At least I’m not alone.
He’d never understood the art of palmistry, but Narion was an expert at it. It had come in handy numerous times when their band had to disguise themselves as traveling performers—palmistry was a lesser means of fortune telling at best, but it didn’t require the involvement of a deity to use, and so Narion’s booth had always been popular. It was more than that to the elf, though; it was a piece of his personal history, a way of reading the whorls of a person’s fate the same way one read the whorls of history in the remnants of a fallen tree. He brushed the pad of his thumb over the center line of Avery’s palm.
“Ah. Marlon is back.”
Avery swallowed hard, pain welling up in his throat.
“No, don’t try to speak of him, my boy. Never hurt yourself for his sake if you can help it.”
He laughed weakly. “I don’t think I can. Not this time.”
Narion nodded. “The second ask was the one where you could have permanently severed your connection to him if you’d chosen to. Ignorance shielded your first mission to the Tower, but he couldn’t compel you into the second. He wasn’t strong enough back then.”
“I went for love,” Avery whispered. “I thought I loved him.” I never thought he loved me. Avery had known that then and he knew it now. But he’d hoped against hope that helping Marlon in such a way would secure his love.
He’d known better. He’d done it anyway.
“This time, he has the power to ensure you aid him. He probably knew from the moment he saw you that pulling on your heartstrings would no longer work.”
Delicate love mingled with sharp, aching pain flowed through Avery like water. “True. My heart belongs to someone else now.”
“Mm. Hiram Emblic is an interesting choice.” Narion tilted his head. “I thought you wanted to investigate his power. See if he could be used to free you from your curse.”
“I did.” The sense of power in Hiram, the sense of something leashed that just evaded Avery’s understanding, had been the initial source of wanting to spend time with him. But now… “I couldn’t keep my distance, I’m afraid.” He glanced up from his steaming cup of tea. “Do you still think he’s got some sort of great power?”
“More than ever,” Narion said dryly. “I couldn’t tell you exactly what it is, but I do know that he’d probably be more than willing to exert himself on your behalf, all things considered.”
Avery shook his head. “I can’t do that to him. I can’t put him in that kind of danger.”
“Then you’re content to say goodbye to him forever?”
“Are those my only choices?” Avery knew he sounded angry, desperate, but he couldn’t help it. He was desperate. “Either I leave him and everyone I know for M—” His throat seized, and he coughed into his free hand. “Or,” he continued once he’d caught his breath, “I lure Hiram into trying to help me under false pretenses and put him in Marlon’s line of fire? I won’t do that to him.”
“Why would the pretenses be false?”
Avery huffed. “He can’t read me like you can. And I wouldn’t be able to explain…” Everything.
“You don’t even know what kind of power he has, and you’re already dismissing it.” Avery opened his mouth, but Narion cut him off with a sharp slash of his hand. “No. It makes me positively sick, how willing you are to throw yourself to the gnolls without even trying to reach out to the people who care about you.”
“I’m here with you,” Avery pointed out weakly.
“This time. You should have come to me the last time. I would have been able to act myself back then. Now…” Narion sighed and let go of Avery’s hand. He curled it around his mug to retain the sense of warmth he’d gotten from the elf’s grip. “I don’t like you having to rely on someone with so many unknowns,” he said frankly. “I know more about the nature of that man than most people in Lollop, I think, but even I haven’t gleaned very much. What can we say we know for sure about Hiram Emblic?”
Avery thought about it for a moment. The most obvious thing was: “He’s an herbalist.”
“He is, and a good one,” Narion acknowledged. “Possibly too good. His teas and poultices are unusually effective. What does that tell us?”
“He has some sort of hidden or latent power,” Avery said. “But he’d not a very religious person. He doesn’t wear the symbol of any god I know of, or pray to any of them in town.”
“Indeed. So.” He held up a finger. “A highly effective herbalist. Not an outspoken worshipper of any god. What else?”
“Kind.” Everyone in Lollop knew that. “He’s a kind man.”
“He is.” They both paused, and Avery was sure Narion was thinking of the unexpectedly positive outcome for Letty Devane and her family yesterday. The town seemed to be holding its breath this morning, waiting to see how Granth reacted to losing everything so publicly. “He’s kind, maybe recklessly so. What sort of people can afford reckless kindness?”
“Powerful ones,” Avery said.
“Precisely.” Power could and did corrupt, but in some select people it simply gave them the means to do more good. “And he has a dark past.”
“Yes.” The service at the Temple of Melemor had taught everyone not to pry into Hiram’s history. “And he has a unicorn.” Damn it.
Narion nodded. “He’s a puzzle of a person. Puzzles are always worth solving for those in positions of favor, though, and there’s no doubt that he favors you. If you asked him for help, he would give it to you.”
“But—”
“No buts. Either you go to the man you love and ask him to help save your future together, or you abandon it forever at the command of a man who used you, perhaps giving up your life in the process.”
Avery stared into Narion’s milky eyes, on the precipice of a decision he didn’t feel ready for. He wanted to be with Hiram, wanted it more than anything, but he would never be able to forgive himself if he was the cause of the man’s injury. Or worse, death, and Gemmel’s Tower was a killer. Hells, there was a time when death would have been a comfort to Avery instead of—
Narion’s head turned sharply. “Someone is shouting in the square.”
“Shouting?” Avery couldn’t hear it.
“It’s one of the Devane children.”
Oh, no. “Has Granth come?” Avery asked, both hands pressed to the top of the table as he prepared to stand. He wouldn’t let a child come to harm if he could help it.
Narion held up his hand. “Silence.” A few seconds later, his pale face went gray. “Granth is dead.”
Avery slumped back in his chair. “What?”
“Presumed so, at least. He…” Narion sighed. “He went to Hiram’s home last night.”
Watery relief froze to ice in Avery’s guts. “What?” His inner beast leapt to the fore, snarling against the strict bonds that Avery used to contain him most of the time. “What happened? Is he all right?” Is he alive?
Narion’s slow nod wasn’t very comforting. “He was wounded, badly it seems, but he’d all right now. The healer from the Thread tended to him.”
The healer from the Thread had to be next to useless after so long on the bloody road. Still…no wonder the geis hadn’t yet begun to pull too hard on Avery. If the Thread was involved in finding Hiram, they likely wouldn’t be leaving today. Marlon wouldn’t have a good excuse to make his way apart from them until tomorrow. Better to travel through the forests than the roads these days, he’d said idly to Avery yesterday before things got serious between them. There are so many imperial patrols about, always checking papers and casting reveals.
“Avery…”
“I need to see him.” Even if his beast wasn’t urging it, Avery would have been determined to visit Hiram and check for himself that he was all right.
“He’s at home,” Narion said. “And he has a unicorn.” Unspoken went the reminder of how things had gone the last time Avery had gotten in scenting distance of that unicorn.
A growl of frustration ripped from Avery’s throat. “I need to see him!” But if he didn’t leave his home, and Avery was called away by Marlon…
Narion reached over and patted his hands. Claws that Avery hadn’t even realized had sprung out retracted beneath skin, leaving wet smears of blood behind as the tears slowly healed. “I might be able to do something to help you with that.”
***
Hours later and at the edge of his hearing range, Avery listened as Narion knocked on Hiram’s door. There was nothing for a long moment, and he began to hyperventilate as what-ifs danced through his head, each one more dire than the last. Finally he turned to run over, unicorn be damned, he’d climb the house and come down the chimney if he had to—
The door creaked open. “Master Emblic,” Narion said in his perfectly smooth “professional” voice. “I have a somewhat odd proposition for you.”
There was another pause, and then—“I’m listening.”
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