On the Road Again

[Wayfarer]

Indistinct forest loomed off to one side and the narrow road out of Baerlon wound out in front of the small wagon like a meandering river making its way back to source. Low hanging clouds presaged the arrival of late afternoon, early evening and not much more in the way of daylight travelling was going to be feasible given the rate that night had descended the previous day. Dilora had been woefully unprepared for the sudden arrival of dusk: rolling over uncertain ground she had heard something crack underneath the wheels of her wagon. At the time she had considered it to be nothing more than a stray branch underneath, creaking and snapping under the heavy weight of her mobile home, but a day sat thinking about it on the unpadded wagon seat had left her worrying that potentially there was some damage that would have to be repaired before she could move on again. Altie continued on the same path as always; her old friend would not stray far from the road.

 

Better find a likely place to stop regardless. Night would fall and then she was at risk of injuring her horse, Altie and her whole life revolved around that horse and her wagon. They were the only things in Dilora’s life that didn’t have a price to them: she considered most other things could be bought, apart from those necessary things like true feelings, except for the fact that with enough money, those kind of feelings could be put on for people. She had seen it lots of times before during the course of her travels, and would doubtless see it again on many levels. As a peddler, Dilora kept her mind and her eyes sharp for those who would take advantage of a woman travelling alone and her colleagues in the profession would seek to try and get one over on her so she had learnt early on in life to read people’s body language like a hawk to try and reason out what they’d do next. She’d managed so far.

 

The surface of the road had definitely deteriorated since the last time Dilora had made her stately way across it, travelling without a care in the world except finding somewhere decent to sleep and a tavern along the way to make life bearable and her bed warmer of a night. She keenly felt the potholes through the unpadded seat of her wagon as it bounced her around; walking would be interesting later and tomorrow at this rate too. The last time she had taken this road she had most definitely not suffered from this many bumps.

 

Light! A particularly nasty pothole almost had her out of her seat triggered a wrenching sound, loud in the peaceful afternoon calm. The world toppled sideways as Dilora saw Altie being pulled to one side by the force of whatever had happened; drops of water from her rain bucket splashing across her skirts as the wagon dipped at one corner, grinding to a halt in the middle of the road.

 

Unceremoniously, Dilora found herself skidding off the small seat onto the ground near where the wagon had stopped, catching her head on the corner as she did so and blood trickling down her pale face. Cursing fit to shame a stablehand, Dilora righted herself and peered under the wagon. The axle had snapped close to the nearside front wheel, rendering the wagon useless and hanging down. Altie had stopped and swung his head around, looking a little bewildered as to the sudden cease of movement, but looked thankfully unharmed. This was the first time this had ever happened to her and she was beginning to panic, being stranded in the middle of the Caemlyn road with no help of fixing her wagon: she would be a sitting target for bandits and was largely unarmed apart from her belt knife and bow.

 

With Altie unhitched and cropping at the grass nearby, tied securely to the wagon, Dilora had plenty of time to think. There was no way she could lift the wagon up enough by herself to fix the broken axle so she would have to sit in wait for a passer by and hope they would be amenable to helping her out. She had some few trinkets she could offer in exchange for a strong back to aid her. She sat back against a wheel and watched the road.

 

 

 

 

There was something to be said for taking one's time along the road. Bandits weren't so common along the route from Baerlon to Caemlyn either, so it was a safe place to do so. The metal taken from the mines was worthwhile enough to the crown to be protected well, and lugging metal ore across the countryside wasn't exactly the best way to make money. Not that it didn't happen, but the sort who did that wouldn't be all that interested in a single traveller with apparently little of value. Except maybe as sport, but Anton felt lucky despite the thought, he wasn't about to be bothered anytime soon.

 

The sun was sinking rapidly into the horizon when Anton saw something unexpected. A wagon up ahead that lurched to one side, a clear sign that the axle was broken. As he got closer, the wagon began to look a little familiar, he could have sworn he'd seen it in Baerlon a few days prior. Of course, that would explain why the wagon was heading away from Baerlon. Still, it presented an opportunity. If he helped out, maybe he could get a ride for at least part of the road, as long as the peddler wasn't too annoying. The road wasn't kind to some, especially those who were rather surly, Anton much preferred his own company and using his legs to bad company and an easy ride.

 

Of course, there was the possibility that it was a trap, but once again he felt rather lucky. Of course, he'd felt lucky in Shienar and he'd been kept captive for a week by a band of brigands. Nevertheless, he continued on the road, his stave in hand as he used it to help himself along. He could always plunder the wagon instead, or so the thought drifted through his mind, but that didn't last long. That was a distinctly Aran thought, meeting him up in Tar Valon was a bad influence, like every other time they got together and drank extensively. Months after such ideas came to him, but he wouldn't act on them at least, he'd seen that doing good or bad deeds done were often revisited upon the doer. Better to have good deeds visited upon oneself than bad ones. Unless you were impossibly charmed like Aran was anyway.

 

When he saw the owner of the wagon, he had to admit he was somewhat surprised. Female peddlers were rare, and rarer still travelled alone. Alone she must be, otherwise she would have been able to fix the axle and would have been working away at that rather than waiting by. Raising his stave to her as he got closer, he got a wave back in return though he had little doubt it'd be a wary meeting at first. Then again, a woman by herself had a good right to be wary on the road.

 

"Well, evening there. I suppose you need some help with that wheel there?"

 

 

 

 

“Well, evening there. I suppose you need some help with that wheel there?†Dilora had seen the approach of the man, walking down the Caemlyn road without a care in the world save for the stave he had been carrying. So he had known trouble before then, to be carrying such a thing. Her eyes followed him as he sauntered into view and made his way along the road before he caught sight of the distressed wagon and raised the stave at her. She replied cautiously: it never paid to appear too eager in these situations; one never knew the danger of the person approaching, and Dilora had been bitten before. Still, his words were spoken cheerfully enough, an offer of assistance was exactly what she needed and she did not see anyone else on the road and he looked strong. She just wondered what he wanted in exchange for his offer.

 

She was not going to be able to find a nice taproom and pint of ale anytime soon. Not unless she could get her mobile home moving again and that meant fixing the axle. If she only had one offer of help, it could not be helped and her instinct as a peddler told her outright to take the chance and get it mended whilst she could. Which she did.

 

“I’d be glad of the help.†Dilora called to him in a light tone of voice, still painted a little by caution yet trying to be seen as friendly and approachable. She did not know the capability of this man for anything, but from the looks of him he looked at least strong.

 

“I’ve never had this happen to me, not in all my years of peddling – and I’ve been around a bit, let me tell you!†A grin suddenly appeared on her face and vanished almost as quickly as realisation dawned that she had no clue about how to prop the wagon up whilst the axle itself was repaired. No clue either as to how to brace it to make sure it would be usable until Dilora could get it replaced. Sighing, Dilora turned to the stranger she did not know to call friend yet and started talking.

 

“How come you’re out on the road so late? Surely you’re not travelling alone.†Her eyes scanned the horizon. If he was part of a larger party, laying in wait for her by the road and had watched her axle break. Maybe there were bandits around these parts, although she had not heard word when she had stopped in Baerlon, but she had precious little choice otherwise. Dilora laid her hand unobtrusively on her belt knife, not that it would do much good – the man had far longer reach than she did but it made her feel safer. No reason to trust him.

 

“I’m Dilora, by the way.â€

[Wayfarer]

Switching his stave from his right to left hand, and extended it in friendship. "Anton Averdal." Shaking her hand firmly, Anton grinned as he unclasped his hand and leaned on his stave lazily while he answered her other question. "As to what I'm doing out here at this time... I'm either a bandit seeing if there's anyone else before calling my horde of brethren out to join me in looting your wagon, or I'm travelling at this time hoping any bandits out there think any pickings have already made it to the next town. Have I sort of touched on any of your suspicions?"

 

His grin growing wider, Anton chuckled as he continued. "Actually, I'm hoping you're not a bandit who has set up this broken wagon as a ruse. The last time I was picked up by bandits I spent a week tied up in a cupboard. I'm feeling lucky though. So what do you want to do to fix this wagon up? I'm guessing you'll have to shift all the weight inside your wagon if you haven't already done so. How badly is it damaged?"

 

He had a firm grip; slightly calloused hands rough from weather or toil pressed in a handshake that spoke of friendship. Dilora listened to his explanation about being tied up in a cupboard in near disbelief – she thought that some might do that, but why would they take him with them? He was good looking, she had to give him that, but unless they were female bandits it was unlikely, unless his pockets were lined with gold, or he was a very important person indeed. In which case, why didn’t she recognize him? She prided herself on knowing the important people as well as any gleeman or bard and she didn’t know him. Yet.

 

“Oh, I moved all the things from inside whilst I was waiting. There wasn’t much anyway – I mainly deal in small things, perfumes, and trinkets…little things. They say good things come in small packages.†She smiled, considering her own smallish frame that could be taken two ways. “And I’m no thief. If I was, I’d be riding off by now.†The grin turned mischievous before settling to its normal slightly amused smile. “The front axle has splintered and broken near the wheel. I can’t fix it myself without someone to help me. From the look of it though, all it needs is something to brace it and keep it together until I can get it replaced at my next port of call, Caemlyn.â€

 

Anton looked at his stave, the axle, then his stave once more before offering it to Dilora. "This'll save us some time I suppose. What else will you need? The sooner the wagon is moving, the sooner we can make it to the next settlement. I suppose you'll want me to help bear the weight while you secure it?"

 

She laughed, a musical little trill that echoed in the fading sunset. "I don't think I could really lift my wagon, even though it's not too heavy as they go. I'm not that strong sadly." Thinking over what she would need, Dilora reached underneath the wagon and pulled a small packet of nails and some rope. Once again she thanked the light she was a peddler and able to carry the useful things if not always to use them. You truly never knew. "I have nails here, so I'll just need a rock or hammer to knock them in with. I can keep the stave in place with rope for the time being, but it needs to be more secure than that else we won't make it to the next settlement."

 

Turning out his pockets quite deliberately, Anton grinned at the peddler "a rock it is". A few minutes of searching was enough to turn up one of decent size, and so it was that Anton found himself bearing the weight of the wagon, sweat pouring off him while Dilora worked as quickly as she could. "How's it... going down there?"

 

Lying on her back under the wagon, Dilora looked up at the job she had done so far. She had braced the stave against the splintered axle, pushing it into line so as to make it straight and fixed it temporarily with the rope. Deliberately driving in the nails with the rock Anton had found for her, she fixed the stave to the broken shaft, strengthening it and giving a few more miles before it needed replacing.

 

"It's going good. Not much longer and it will be ready." She called. The man must be hot; the day was still warm enough even at this late stage and lifting a wagon was no small feat. Dilora pledged to herself to buy him as many cool drinks as the man could stand by way of repayment. "I'll make sure you're paid well for helping me with this. And it's good to know there are those other than bandits out there who are willing to help a damsel in distress."

 

Anton's grunt was the closest he was able to manage as a response until she was done. Falling to the ground when she was clear, it was a moment before he could manage a smile up at Dilora. "No pay is necessary, a free ride to the next settlement is all I ask. I like walking, but I have to admit your wagon is looking pretty appealing at the moment."

 

"Done!" She exclaimed happily, feeling immensely relieved that her wagon was able to move again and she was not a sitting target anymore. "If you want a ride, get in. We might be able to make the next town by nightfall, failing that we can stop somewhere and camp overnight. It's a nice night."

 

Getting to his feet, his cloak and backpack were deposited in the wagon within a moment and he had himself a seat next to Dilora as she got her wagon moving. A chance to rest his legs and let a horse do the work, didn't happen often but when it did he was quite happy to take the opportunity. And the Dilora character he'd run into could prove interesting....

 

 

Anton Averdal

Traveller

[Winter Mist]

The splinted axle was holding up well as it rolled on placidly to the next town. Night was descending, near full dark had already skirted the countryside and only the lights of approaching cilivisation had encouraged Dilora to press on. The road was clear and silent apart from the nightly noises of birds and insects. First priority would be to find a tavern. Anton, beside her on the wagon seat, had proved to be excellent company on the journey. He told rich tales of experiences from his past and Dilora had listened intently, laughing and smiling for the most part. Her experienced eye watched for danger, for potholes or obstructions in the road and scanned the horizon for anything out of the ordinary.

 

"Nearly there. Do you want dropping off at any particular place or should I just leave you at the gates?"

 

"That eager to be rid of me eh?" Laughing, Anton shrugged at her. "I'm none too fussed. My first plan is to get a meal, then find some place to sleep. So a tavern or inn is my first stop I think. What about you? Feeling a bit hungry?"

 

Dilora laughed, pleased he had a ready sense of humour that seemed to match her own. "Of course I'm hungry. I could eat a horse! Just not mine." She replied with a smile. "A tavern was going to be my first stop anyway and for once I think a stay over would be nice, rather than sleeping in the wagon." The wagon passed the town entrance and headed down the narrow cobbled streets, trying to find a place that did not look too run down so the ale might be chilled and the beds not infested with fleas.

 

It didn't take long for them to find their home for the night, it even looked respectable. The owner came to meet them as they pulled into the stables, and the horse was quartered in a stall with the cart was left down the end. Dilora needed to gather her items, so Anton talked to her as he slouched against the wagon. He could have helped, but it was best not to intrude on someone's privacy, and learning where all the panels were in her cart where she kept her trade goods qualified as an intrusion. Still, when she was ready the owner was happy to lead them to their quarters.

 

Finally unloaded of all valuables, Dilora followed the innkeeper through the building with Anton behind. He showed Dilora her room, then Anton and left saying about food being served til late and that the pair should freshen up and come downstairs for the best roast this side of Caemlyn! Wanting to try that grandiose claim, Dilora quickly scrubbed her face and got the majority of the day's dirt

off and pushed her hair into a semblance of neatness, before walking down to the common room and ordering a large pot of ale. Once Anton had arrived, she would order her food, but til then the ale was hitting the spot quite nicely.

 

It always felt good to be rid of the day's dirt and clean up a little. It certainly made him feel a little more comfortable when sitting with Dilora at the table. Before he could say anything, they were attended and their meal ordered. The owner had made alot of promises about the roast, Anton would be happy with finding out the claims were at least half true. As the lad who took their order walked away, Anton noticed someone walk in with a lute. Didn't have the look of a gleeman on him though, most likely a local who helped wile away the nights with some music. That meant that more than likely, a number of people were going to turn up during the night. But that was later, for the moment he was more concerned with resuming their conversation where it left off.

 

"So, why do you trade along this way? I would have thought there would be more profitable ventures elsewhere?"

 

She took a long sip of her draught; a rich, strong ale that smelt potent. "I was actually on my way back to my usual trading routes. I took a trip back to visit my family in Baerlon and was on my way to Caemlyn when the axle broke." Fingers pushed idly through her hair as she waited for the meal to be brought out; the delicious smells emanating from the kitchen only serving to further indicate her hunger. "Usually I stay close to the main towns and cities - you're right of course, they are much more profitable than the villages. Not many farmers can afford gemstones or perfume." She paused as two large plates were placed on the table before them, piled high with slices of roasted meat and vegetables and a large loaf of dark bread was left at the side with a dish of home churned butter.

 

"How about you. What were you doing so far from anywhere?"

 

Anton smiled, he hadn't really thought of how to explain where he'd been for the past few weeks. "That last time I was picked up by bandits I mentioned? While I was in their care, they picked up another traveller, between the pair of us we managed to escape. I joined his company for a time, he had business that brought us down this way. Our paths diverged eventually though, so I'm now wandering back to Caemlyn, and from there I have no idea. I tend to simply go wherever the road takes me, though I am thinking of maybe making for the Borderlands eventually, my last visit was cut short because of my companion's business."

 

A man of affairs. She should've known her path would cross with someone like that eventually. He sounded mysterious, but shared the same kind of mindset she did. The open road and the next destination were really all that mattered, and as long as you enjoyed yourself on the way, what was wrong with that? She forked up a slice of the meat and put it into her mouth.

 

"I see. Do you want to get to Caemlyn quickly? As that is my destination anyway you'll reach it far quicker with wheels underneath you. It'll be nice to have some company and besides which I like you." Her grin was wide as she reached for her ale again.

 

Anton grinned at her as he neatly sliced a piece of beef. "Sounds like a plan, and you're not half bad yourself." Forcing himself to chew slowly, even though he wanted to speak, he somewhat maintained his manners before continuing. "Who knows, maybe by the time we reach Caemlyn I may have come up with a new direction to go in. You know, I'm sure you get asked this a bit, but why did you decide to take up peddling? Its alot of work and not always the most rewarding." Anton decided to avoid mentioning it was odd because she was a woman, no doubt she heard quite a bit of that as well.

 

Ahh, the familiar question. She wondered how long it would be before he asked that. Years ago she had taken to the road at her father's suggestion. Dilora explained how she had been so much of a handful at home that her father had asked a friend of his who had his own wagon and did some small trading between the towns to take her under his wing so to speak and show her a bit of life to settle her down. The beef was truly delicious. She hadn't tasted so good in a long time and maybe it was the ale but she was enjoying herself. "Eventually I discovered I loved the freedom, being able to do what I wanted, go where I wanted and not be tied down by anything or anyone. There are upsides to a stable life with a house, but hearth and children were not for me." More ale went down after the beef, warming and settling.

 

There was a certain smile on Anton's face, mostly due the shared sense of wanderlust. "Maybe there will be some day for settling down. For me though at least, I know that day isn't anytime soon. There are still hills I need to see the other side of. There's always something new to learn and see."

 

Dilora laughed delightedly. Someone else who knew the feeling of wonder at the beginning of something new, something unseen and unexplored! How rare a happenstance was this? "There is indeed. I'll drink to that!" She drained the rest of the tankard dry and placed it down on the table. Her dark brown eyes were not fogged by the brew in the least and yet she felt good. "I wonder if they serve anything sweet here."

 

Anton couldn't help but laugh as he looked at her tankard, then his own. "Obviously I need to catch up." The catching up only took one go, and his tankard was next to hers. "Something sweet might be pushing your luck in a place like this. Why, what were you after?"

 

"I just like to round off a meal with a cake, or something sweet to eat. It is one of those habits I picked up by wandering around on my own - something comforting. I always try a sweet from every new place I go to." She looked at him, a serious look on her face. "Think of it this way. People like to enjoy themselves, as a rule, right? So, in that case if they like sweet things, they'll make them in their own style. I would like to try them all."

 

"You know, I'd never quite thought of it that way before. I might try some myself." Waving over the lad who had served them earlier, he managed to steal him away from the the locals that were steadily streaming in long enough to find out there was a bit of apple pie to be had. Getting a nod from Dilora, he ordered two pieces, still contemplating the new idea she had given him. "Whats the sweetest thing you've found so far?"

 

A giggle escaped her lips at his question. "You mean, apart from myself?" She waved a hand deprecatingly, as if to deny she had said that out loud. "I would say the sweetest thing I have had so far was a pastry dish from Illian. It was layers of fine pastry, covered with honey and filled with chopped nuts. It's very rich, and I never did get the name, but as soon as I describe it, they know what I'm after." She was looking forward to the apple pie - no two villages ever made pies the same, there was always a secret ingredient added for when those from the neighbouring areas came to visit. "Nothing like a little rivalry to boost one's village's self esteem." She finished explaining her theory to him. "Do you have any habits?" She asked.

 

Anton chuckled "not any good ones... I don't know, the only real habit that comes to the top of my head is being too curious for my own good. On the otherhand, it does result in some interesting little adventures, so its not all that bad. It just seems that way at the time." Anton was about to say more but he was distracted as he heard the lutist he had spotted earlier strumming. Not that he was playing anything yet, he was using tuning the instrument, yet it was usually a sign that there was soon to be some music. Judging from the lack of movement from the seats, it wasn't to be for dancing... not yet anyway.

[Wayfarer]

"I haven't had much in the way of adventures - it's mainly been quite sedate going from place to place and doing the odd bit of trading. I get my main enjoyment from the taverns though, watching the people inside and how they change after a few pints." Dilora looked wistfully at her own empty ale pot and wondered if she dared risk another. Why not, she thought. I'll need something to go with the apple pie.

 

"Do you want another?"

 

Anton smiled as he waved the offer away "I don't think I could handle another slice, I'm not used to sweet things. A drink on the otherhand would definitely go down well."

 

"That's good then, I'll join you in that." She signalled the serving girl over and told her to bring another couple of tankards of ale over to them, and pressed a silver penny into her hand for the service. Music drifted over; the sweet strains filling the room as the evening started to progress into the next stage where those who had indulged enough and fancied a dance could get up and do so.

 

She sat back in her chair, resting a hand on the surface of the table. "I wouldn't mind doing something interesting, you know. I'd like to see a travelling show, or a menagerie. Apart from the fact that I like the idea of travelling and performing for people, it's something I've not done before." She waved a hand airily. "Oh I have no idea what I'd do, but I'd just like to do it to say I've had a go."

 

Anton laughed as Dilora finished, though he was quick to explain before she took it the wrong way. "Performing has its ups and downs, tending to animals is a pain as well. Plus I've never been a fan of the way some of the creatures like lions are kept on display, or of dancing bears. Performing troupes are good fun though. Though with that there's the strain that can come with sharing the road with too many people."

 

She grinned at that. Yet again someone had pointed out the one reason she hadn't done that so far. Hassle. It all seemed such a hassle. But it would be fun, and musing over the idea she vowed she would try it one day. "But then, I wouldn't know what to do in a performing troupe either. I can't imagine myself doing any of that!" She flashed a smile for the girl delivering their ale and had a grateful sip from the dark amber contents. "I know what you mean about sharing the road with too many people though. The pot went on to the table and Dilora tapped her nails idly on the wooden surface before tracing through a drop of spilt drink. "Many times I've got put out by my travelling companions, so I don't often offer lifts."

 

"You were put it out? Makes it sound like they banished you, were you truly so terrible to travel with? I can't say I've noticed anything I can't somehow withstand so far." Grinning at her, he poured himself a drink from the pot and attacked it with gusto.

 

"I am not so bad to travel with - it is more of a case that I prefer my own company to other peoples. I thank you for the compliment though." She smiled, looking around at the room. There were much worse ways to spend an evening than this. "You're not so bad yourself. Do you have any family at all?"

 

Anton grin relaxed to a smile as he tilted his tankard back again, not everyone liked bastards. "Only what family I could find, and it turned out to be the family I needed. Howabout you? Quiet country town or big city?"

 

"All from Baerlon. Not many have ventured beyond it's borders. They're nice, and I love them, but they do tend to be the sit by the fire type." Everything was looking nicer the further she got down her ale pot and a quick look out of the window at the darkened sky gave some indication of the hour. Not that she really cared how late it was: Dilora had no plans for the next day apart from finding the open road again, this time with Anton for company.

 

"Ah, mining folk then? My own origins were a bit humbler, and Foregate is quite a bit different. I didn't really get to know the lay of the land until I decided to actually make my own way and travel... Still wonder what would have happened had I stayed, do you? Think about what you would have done if you stayed in Baerlon that

 

"Not often" she replied with a grimace. The thought of going home for longer than necessary really was not appealing. "I would probably have argued with my parents and relatives until I'd left anyway. I did dream of being a Hunter."is."

 

"A hunter?" Anton laughed "I have to admit I thought about taking the oath in the square of Tammuz as well. There are some great people I have met who have born the title Hunter of the Horn. On the otherhand, there are some who give the rest a bad name. People often remember the latter rather than the former."

 

Dilora nodded, dark brown hair spilling from behind her ears over her face with the emphatic movement. "The ones I have encountered have been unskilled braggarts, largely bent on listening to praise of their highly exaggerated tales of bravado."

 

She'd seen them around the taverns of Baerlon, and openly in the streets, trying to gain discounts from tradesmen and women by dint of their titles alone. Unfair for the general populace, yet some still seemed to buy it. "That was the main reason I chose not to take that oath. That, and as much as it pains me to admit it, although my skill with my knife is not bad, I think there are those better than me out there and I would not like to come up against them. I sort of like my head where it is!"

 

Nodding as he laughed, Anton knew exactly what she meant. "Fighting is better suited to people who get paid for it true. Still, its no certain thing that one needs to be able to fight to find the Horn, it just happens to be rather handy is all."

 

Noticing the change in the music that coincided with people rising from their tables to the open area of the common room, he grinned at Dilora. "I don't suppose you'd fancy a jig? Only place to be having one for the next few days until we reach the next village."

 

She grinned back at Anton. "I'd love to." Dilora pushed back her chair and allowed herself to be led towards the area cleared of tables and chairs for the night's dancing and taking her place at the end of the line of girls stood facing a similar line of the menfolk. Looking at her dress she realised she was hardly in her best, but it would do and some of the womenfolk were dressed in a worse state than she was. Her heart felt lifted by the music and her head felt light from the ale.

 

Some men were suave as they jigged, some were hopeless, Anton was perhaps the only one whose technique could be called childlike. He could dance, but he was less concerned with seduction as he was with having fun, and the music helped. A jaunty saunter as he stepped towards the female line and bowed, just as roguish as he made his way back. Spinning with Dilora as they met in the centre again, he had an easy grin on his face as they unclasped and spun to new partners.

 

The room span merrily as Dilora wheeled around the floor, linking arms with a swarthy man with a food-spotted tunic and mud on his boots but smiling readily. She smiled constantly, enjoying herself as they parted and met up with a different man, repeating until she felt a little giddy from the constant swirling and yet at the same time exhilerated. She linked arms with Anton twice more, enjoying the dance and the fast tempo of the music suited her mood. She held her skirt with one hand, smiling at everyone, but perhaps a little more for her recent travelling companion. The music started to slow and everyone resumed their places back in the line. Dilora curtsied.

 

"Alright! form squares! Thats it!" Most people knew where to go as they were regulars, though the lute player's directions was handy for Anton and Dilora as they paired off with a local couple to form the square of four. Bows were followed by curtsies, hands linked as they moved about in a circle. Moving in then out, forming their own paired lines. There was a certain amount of strutting that followed by the men, something which Anton did in a rather exaggerated manner for a laugh.

 

It had been a long time since Dilora had done this dance. From memory, the last time she had, she had been sixteen years old and allowed inside a tavern for the first time to see what it was like. There had been a rather good looking young miner in there who had been a joy to dance with, surprisingly light on his feet for someone with his build. She smiled a smile of pure pleasure as she saw Anton strutting like a peacock in their little square.

 

Other sets of four had done the same, and with a grin for her female companion, Dilora twirled, the hem of her skirt flying up to mid calf and revealing her ankles above her sensible shoes. Laughing, she flew forward to meet Anton and twirled around him before returning to her place and curtseying.

 

The dance returned to the two main lines as everyone rejoined and they went through the previous dance. By the time it was done, Anton had to admit to himself that his legs were feeling it a little, and he was feeling a bit tired. It had been a long day of travel, even with part of the way by cart saving him. Still, he could go one last drink.

 

"I need a moment I think, lost my breath somewhere back there". Grinning at Dilora, he made his way back to the table which she kindly accompanied him too rather than picking up another partner. "For someone who doesn't know what they could do for a performing troupe, your dancing makes me think you might also be good at tumbling. Its certainly just as much fun."

 

 

Anton Averdal

Traveller

[Winter Mist]

She laughed at his suggestion. Her, become a tumbler in a performing troupe? Light! She tried to imagine herself in the tight shiny breeches she had seen some of the other performers wearing during the course of her travels, recalling that most of them were in fact little better than performing unclothed. Some had caught her eye, and Dilora did enjoy the thought of wearing them, but she’d need a few pints in order to get her confidence up enough to wear them. Or enough flattery… someone to wear them for…

 

“Tumbling may be fun, and I’m sure that with enough practice and encouragement I would be quite good at it, but for now all I want is another drink. That last dance was energetic!†She accompanied him back to the table they had previously occupied, the empties now cleared away, resuming her seat opposite him and regarding him intently. “Will you have another?†His nod, coupled with the cheeky grin he flashed, was answer enough. Dilora signalled for the serving girl, a pretty blonde with a shy smile, to fetch them another two pints of the inn’s finest ale. Soon enough, the drinks were safely in front of Dilora and her companion.

 

“To health, and the open road.†She raised her tankard, clinking it with Anton’s and smiling as he echoed it. United by a common need to explore, Dilora felt friendship starting to bloom with the near complete stranger who had helped fix the broken axle on her wagon. Hopefully by the time she woke up early the next morning, her mobile home would be repaired – for certain it should be with the amount she had paid to have it done quickly – and they could start out on the road again tomorrow. Headed for the city of Caemlyn, to encounter who knew what. Cities changed so much with each passing through made. Sounds of revelry and some raucous laughter of those too far gone in drink and merriment were heard as the musicians continued to play. They would be there as long as there was an audience, and that meant they would be playing well into the small hours of the morning. Tossing her head to one side, Dilora looked past Anton to where a new dance had formed, a lively quickstep, and shook her dark mass of hair at him.

 

“There is no way I am doing that now. You already professed to being tired and I’ve not had enough to drink to get up from the company of a good-looking man just yet, so don’t even think about it!†He laughed at her, good-naturedly and drank some of his ale. Dilora smiled.

 

They chatted about things they had not yet done, dwelt a little more fulsomely on things they would like to do in the future and the inevitable most embarrassing moments they had experienced on the road. It was seldom she spent her evenings in such good company – mainly they were farmers or townsfolk merely interested in forgetting the toils of the day rather than talking about the vagaries and highlights of the life of the wanderer. Even when she met with other peddlers there was not the same level of camaraderie she had here. It will be a pleasant trip to Caemlyn from here.

 

Music was played to a much slower tempo now: few couples remained on the floor dancing and most were slumped tiredly against each other, most likely propping each other up. Time had marched on spent in pleasant conversation and ale, but if she was to get a good start and head off in the right direction, Dilora decided she had better stop drinking now and get some sleep. Which she announced to Anton.

 

“I’ll say goodnight now. We’ll leave when both of us are up and about – you look like an early riser – but there is no hurry.†Dilora patted the small pouch of coins at her belt, the leather tightly stitched with many false compartments to confuse those who thought of an easy life by trying to snatch it, the habit developed after several occasions of going hungry because someone had thought to steal all her money. Once bitten, twice is just stupid and three times? Well, it would never get to that third time now, not in Dilora’s eyes. “If you want to stay up and have another one, please do, but I am going to go to bed now.†She watched as he drained the last of his drink and stood, saying how he had better do the same and how all the hard work he had done in fixing her wagon had taken a lot out of him. Giving cheerful smiles to the tired looking innkeeper, Dilora and Anton ascended the stairs and retired to their rooms. Her head hit the thin pillow of the small cot and swam briefly, before smiling at the ceiling and yielding to dreams.