This way or that (attn Dilora)

[Amalasan]

It was another fine afternoon in the grand city of Tar Valon, with the sun ever blazing down onto the dusty streets. An all-wooden Tavern by the name of “The Queens Crown” held a large crowd on outside tables; it was a favoured spot for gamblers of the noble folk. Malic did well at playing dice today, which the other four men around the table were apparently becoming very irritated with. He already spent all morning winning, and lost only two betting rounds, which sent three peeved men storming off dead broke.

 

His luck was in just recently, being that he needed to build up a bit more cash for the long road ahead, this streak was timed nicely. He received a letter from the ever lovely Dilora, and it was just days ago when he replied accepting her invitation to travel the open road once again. He didn’t see much of her in recent times, catching up would be most pleasant; this specific tavern was actually the meeting place for the two.

 

The game of dice finally ended mid-afternoon, with many disgruntled gamblers muttering their way home. Malic threw up his feet onto the nearest chair, only to be quickly knocked off by the passing tavern keeper,

“Nice one on sending away all my customers AGAIN Malic… don’t get too comfortable”.

“And a good day to you too Mr. Wilk, quite exquisite wine you got here sir!” Today could not be spoilt by anything… that is unless Dilora takes us through the blight.

Destination was yet to be discussed between Dilora and himself. He knew all too well of her chosen occupation as peddler, so the decision would clearly be hers.

 

;D

 

[Winter Mist]

~Dilora~

 

The sky above stretched as far as the eye could see; sunlight glittered on the white walls and roofs of the Tar Valon skyline in a way that quite took away the breath.  The Ogier-crafted city seemed to come alive at times like these.  No wonder people credited this place with shining walls; at the right angle, or from a distance, it would indeed seem as though the stones reflected the inner brilliance of its inhabitants.

 

Of course, she would be leaving it behind soon.  For a time Dilora had been convinced she was going to settle down, to leave the life of a peddler to find security in another way.  Her future was, as yet however, unwoven, although perhaps unwritten was a better way of saying it.  She had not needed to keep her diary since the troubling thoughts of the Caemlyn Carnival Disaster had driven her to drink and it was only with the help of some good friends that she had been able to negotiate that difficult stage of her life.  With luck it was behind her. 

 

Some memories of it remained; fragments of scenes that her mind would not let rest, or squeals that reminded her of the deathly squeals of the departed.  A face in the crowd would make her recall vividly that time, but seeing an accidental death would have no effect on her.  Dilora mused to herself while she crossed the short distance from the inn she had been staying at to the tavern she had agreed to meet the Gleeman, and wondered where she had changed.

 

The Gleeman was a fraction of her past.  Immersed up to her ears in soapy water, taking a bath at the same time as a courier friend of hers, Sallie, the news had been brought to her that someone wished urgently to speak to Dilora and could she please come immediately.  The topic of conversation in the bathing room had been one that had almost seen Dilora give up the life of the road for something more comfortable, yet when she heard the words of her old friend she could not help but feel a stirring of the blood. 

 

It was true.  The road called you back if you strayed for too long.

 

The Gleeman, Malic, had been one of the people she had fought alongside at the Carnival.  He had comforted her, drank with her to help her forget, and attempted to divert her when the echoes of the horrific few days caught up with them both.  The road bred strong personalities.  Besides, his horse liked hers. 

 

Rays of the late afternoon sun turned some of the buildings golden to the naked eye and warmed Dilora’s shoulders and head.  Boot-heels clicked noisily on the paving stones and her long skirt swung with each confident stride.  She was a different person now.  Sallie had tried to convince her not to give up the road, asking her what she would do instead, and Dilora did not have the answers.  She had thought to open a small inn along a main trade route, but the monotonous routine of the obvious chores had made her change her mind.  A short trip somewhere might help that.  And when she had heard that Malic was in the city, she had written him a letter asking if he would like to accompany her for old times’ sake, and to see if she did indeed want to leave her intransient life behind her.

 

She saw him seated at one of the wooden tables outside, his hair haloed by the dying sun and his shoulders relaxed as though he’d had a good day.  She had always thought him rather handsome.  Dilora looked around.  Ah, dicing.  Or was it cards?  One of these days she’d get good at cards – it was another lever in a business deal, and people had said it revealed a lot about a personality.  Fascinating, truly fascinating.  Lightly, Dilora touched him on the shoulder, pressing through the multicoloured fabric of his patterned cloak and waiting for him to turn around. 

 

“Hello, old friend.”

 

[Amalasan]

As Mr. Wilk finally, but reluctantly, went striding back into his tavern, Malic threw his feet back up onto the chair and sighed in contentment with himself on this fine day.

 

The hustle and bustle of the busy streets was always something that Malic disliked about city life. Putting down his drink, he perked up his left ear in an attempt to concentrate on what he could actually hear. Fishmongers wailing lies about the freshness of their fish, and blacksmiths trying to attract attention with more bash and clobber than a palace kitchen. I could never settle down in a city anyway!

 

The country life, even just the magical thought, always made him smile. The sound of the streets were slowly drowned away, by the drifting dream that was his profound imaginary world; of green colours and the chirp of the summer birds singing in melody with his harp… Hello old friend… and Dilora was there as well, laying by his side, pressing herself against him and stroking his arm and… fishmongers, blacksmiths, Tavern, err DILORA?!…

 

Jolted is a mild description of Malic’s trip back to reality. Flailing all arms and legs in an attempt to keep himself upright was futile; adding to the foolishness of his backwards descent to earth it did succeed in doing! Leaning from the head of her wagon, Dilora peered down through the dusty air kicked up from his impact, only just managing to contain her laughter. “I meant to do that!” he alleged after speedily picking himself up and dusting himself down.

 

The effort of righting his grace again with a bow and a flourish was apparently a little awkward. Dilora being the beauty she was, looked very well, and as always once Malic admiringly locked onto the shine in her dark eyes, it was a big job for him to look away. “A delight to see you again Dilora, will you park your wagon and join me at this table?” Giggling, she accepted his offer with a nod and parked up, giving Malic the opportunity to fetch another mug and a pitcher of wine for the table.

 

[Winter Mist]

~Dilora~

 

Dilora giggled as she watched the Gleeman dusting himself down and righting himself.  She accepted his offer to join him at table and made sure the wagon was secure, and that Altie would not wander off anywhere before crossing to sit beside her old friend.  Did she see a faint hint of a blush on the Gleeman’s cheeks?  It was!  Smiling, she poured herself a glass of wine, and one for him.

 

Specks of dust still lingered on Dilora’s blouse; she brushed them idly off and watched them float away on the air.  Late sunshine warmed the back of her head and her shoulders, and Dilora sipped the wine; red, to her taste and all the better for being a bit warmer.  It wasn’t a pint of cold ale, but it was certainly hitting the spot.  The tip of her nose felt slightly fuzzy already.  She looked over at Malic, who had finished dusting down and had taken a drink himself.  She smiled again.

 

How long had it been since the last time they had shared each other’s company in this way; the idle act of passing an afternoon in pleasant conversation and alcoholic companionship.  The novelty of it all was what truly drew her; experiences seldom happened in exactly the same way twice.  That would be something she would miss if she settled down.  Not that she had found anyone she considered worth settling down with.

 

She’d considered Malic, once.  She’d considered pretty much every good-looking man that had crossed her path; the road was a lonely place and so much time alone gave the mind plenty of time for considerations.  Ah, but then she might have given up peddling long before, and then she would not have made so many wonderful friends and acquaintances as she had. 

 

“Is it good?”

 

“What, oh, the wine?”  Malic nodded.  “Oh, yes.  I’ve not had anything like this since Caemlyn.”  She sat back and watched the bustling streets; so many people with so much coin to spend and tales to tell.  To think she had nearly given up this life.  Dilora watched Malic take a sip of the wine and sigh with exaggerated appreciation.  “Oh, yes.  Very good!”

 

Malic looked pleased.  Leaning forward, Dilora laid a hand on his arm and looked into those cheeky eyes.  “You got my letter then, else you wouldn’t be here.”  He nodded, made a strange face, and then resumed eye contact.  “That’s true,” he said “but you have not said where we shall go yet.”  She laughed, a small peal of amusement like a playful wind ruffling blossom in the trees.  “Patience, my good man!  All will be revealed in due time.”

 

“Ah, but now you sound like the Gleeman.  Well, hmm, you’re certainly no man, but you do look full of glee.”  Dilora smiled and laughed at his sally, breaking eye contact for a moment to wipe a small tear from where she had cried a happy tear.  “Mysterious woman!  Your ways are like those of the Aes Sedai.”

 

She inclined her head, smiling, and took another sip of her wine.  It was getting better and better the further she got down the cup.  “Be that as it may, I did invite you on a trip and I would love your company.”  She took her hand in his.”

 

“These hands were made for an instrument; mine were not.  My hands were made for the exchange of goods and goodness.”  He turned his head slightly to the side and said: “Go on,” and Dilora pointed the harp calluses that a Gleeman would have naturally.  “I want to write of my adventures.  No, wait – I want to have adventures and then write of them.  And I can’t think of a better person to start with than someone that knows the history of the land with all its legends and stories as yourself.”  Dilora drank a little more wine and then signalled to a maid to bring over a couple of slices of apple pie with thick cream for them both. 

 

“What do you say, Malic?  Would you like your name forever inscribed in a heroic tale?  Would you like to travel with me, have an adventure with me?  As a bonus, if you need one, you can pick where we go if you like.”  She smiled and, picking up her fork, she sliced off a corner of the newly arrived pie, dunked it in the cream, and popped it into her mouth, waiting for his answer.

 

[Amalasan]

As the afternoon drew on, the sun began its diagonal decent towards the horizon. The streets dwindled with its industrial jangle, replaced with the slow increase of evening jingle as music began filling the air from the local taverns. Shops started bringing in their signs and outdoor tabletops of merchandise and laid back a little from the daily din, chattering to one another about how their day’s prophets have been; the streets emptied early today.

 

Perplexed, Malic hadn’t really thought about where it was they were both to go, he figured it would be Dilora making the decision. He crossed his legs and held up his chin as his mind battled from the two thoughts of where he would suggest traveling, and just how soft her hands were! not to mention the way she just looked at me, mmm From the very moment the two met, Malic was aware of the powerful and very blatant spark between them, as well as the always present  cutting edge of problematic circumstances to split them. Stories, music, Dilora and the world; this is an offer refusal had no part in, and Dilora knows that!

 

Dilora had enough serenity to show an Aes Sedai the real meaning of the word serene, but no manor of her ways demonstrated the manipulative and holier than thou attitude that Malic hated about Aes Sedai. In fact, it would be no shame to ever come into contact with another one for the rest of his days, even if that was highly improbable. Back the thought in hand, Malic popped up his hand and began counting silently on each finger where he has been since leaving his home city of Cairhien. He had been as far south as Tear’s Haddon Mirk, and Tar Valon was as far north as he had ever been! Haddon Mirk was the first journey he made and the only one he made on his own. It was his way of finding the equilibrium and balance he needed to connect with nature, what he longed for all through his working childhood days as a novice entertainer. It was one of the best decisions he ever made, he never looked back; his only thoughts of home were his Mother and his master Gleeman.

 

It was just outside Caemlyn when he first met Dilora on his way back up north from the forest land, someone to share things with, someone he could really open up to, someone to take the edge of the lonesome life of the open wilderness… being a gleeman was a bit of pain in many respects really, though he did love adventure, laughter, song and dance, which is what did make a true gleeman! He knew now where to go.

 

Waiting for Dilora to finish her pie took many more minutes, but he sat patianly picking his nails with the occasional tune of hums that came into his head. “So, you’ve decided” she said while turning the last piece of pie next to her mouth “where do you suggest?”

“Am I really that transparent my dear?” he smiled… always smiling actually! Respectably, it was very predictable that Malic was done thinking, “How was your pie?”

“A bit stodgy actually, and a bit cold considering I asked for it hot, but ok”. She placed the last piece into her mouth and brushed together her hands habitually, with a sip of wine to wash it down with, “I think I could have made better”.

True it was, Malic had tasted her pie before, and it was breathtaking! “How would you like to take your wagon west towards Arad Doman? I hear there are a few ways through the Misty Mountains passing the Two Rivers; I also hear many stories of that very area. It would be something to actually say you’ve been there wouldn’t it?” Grinning to himself, he knew of Dilora’s knowledge of that region and the stories surrounding  it…

 

[Winter Mist]

~Dilora~

 

“As long as we can travel south afterwards,” she countered, placing the cup of wine back down on the tabletop “I like that idea a lot.  There are good things to come from the west, I feel.”  The pie was sitting rather heavily in her stomach; contented, she sat back in her chair and looked at Malic again.  His eyes had picked up the fire of the quest, it seemed.  Good, she would have company for the journey – perhaps some music to go with the lyrics that were ever-present in her head. 

 

Maybe, if she approached the subject in the right way, he would teach her how to play an instrument.  She pictured it in her head as she studied the Gleeman, leaning back and taking his ease with a tankard in his hand.  Just stand here, and put your fingers here, and here . . . Yes, that’s right.    The thought trailed off and turned into something else when she thought of his hand touching hers.  Dilora took a drink and looked at the afternoon sky, reddish tinged and fading now to the first purples of dusk.  A few low-lying clouds drifted lazily by; tonight would not be cold, but the morning should dawn clear and bright, ready for a journey.

 

Tarabon, and Tanchico.  The place had always been exotic for her, even if it had been far too long since her last visit.  With a merchant’s practiced mind she inventoried what supplies could be bought and what would sell well, and ran through her own stores mentally to see what she would have to augment it with in order to make it profitable.  That was the aspect that was beginning to pall on Dilora.  Peddling was a difficult profession, very lonely and occasionally dangerous, and there were some aspects she would have given up in a heartbeat were she not so blessed with talent at it.  In any case, she should be seeing to what she needed to buy to sell at the markets of Tanchico.

 

Their journey would take them through Baerlon.  It had been too long since she had seen her hometown; she wondered if it had changed.  Most likely her relatives would surprise her when the wagon pulled onto those cobbled streets, her youngest nieces and nephews spying the red and gold as it first appeared on the horizon.  Ah, family.  An evening before a roaring log fire with familial company did sound appealing.  And then onto the prospect of the new and exciting, the roads through the Mountains of Mist and then towards Falme, Arad Doman, and eventually Tanchico. 

 

Malic was looking at her, a strange expression on his handsome face, one hand propped under his chin resting on the table in a small pool of ale he had not previously noticed.  Dilora pointed it out to him.  He made a face and winced before wiping at his elbow and grinning ruefully.  “Do you have many things to see to before we set off, Malic?  If not, I could always use some help in preparing the supplies for our journey.  I need to make sure we’ve enough food, drink, needles…” She rattled off a list of the items that would make their travelling so much easier – the next stop would not be until Baerlon.  “If you could help with some of those, I’d be most grateful.”  Big brown eyes shone at him appealingly.  “I want to leave as soon as possible tomorrow, first light, weather permitting.  You can even sleep in the wagon if you like.”