The Stone Heart's Lament
Awkward and Sleepless

Fantel returned toRashari and Smith carrying a large bundle of C’aan twigs for kindling wrappedin her coat. Her arms were full of the fleshy blue Nasri stems. She was pleasedto see that Rashari had managed to remove the Yammik’a’lim’s shell in one pieceand was focused on cutting filets of flesh from its back with one of thecreature’s spines, and not Smith. The automaton was perched on Rashari’sshoulder, his jointed legs curled into purpose made holes in the fabric.Rashari had complained bitterly about the tears Smith’s legs made in his coatat first, but stopped after the third time Smith fell off his back during theirtrek. A few holes were less a nuisance than the annoyance of having to pickSmith up off the ground.

Approaching slowlyFantel observed her human and his automaton. Smith’s eyes glowed a steady,unblinking violet and he seemed to be watching Rashari slice up theYammik’a’lim. Unlike his old body the spider bot had no means of vocalisation. Allthe same Fantel knew Smith was talking to Rashari in some way that required nowords. There was something in the way Rashari cocked his head, pausing everynow and then in his work, as if listening that made her sure of it, but morethan that Fantel felt as if she couldalmost hear Smith. It was difficult to explain. It was more a feeling she had. Therewas an itch in her thoughts, a subliminal buzz, and with it the inexplicablecertainty that she should be able tohear him and the fact that she couldn’t related to a deficit in herunderstanding and not anything to do with the automaton’s lack of vocal cords. Comingcloser the faint buzz in her ears increased, she could almost make sense of thecurrent running between Smith and Rashari, but frustratingly their thoughts andhers remained on different frequencies.

“Ah, Madame, welcomeback.” Rashari looked up, noticing her. He beamed and proudly held up onenarrow strip of meat between his thumb and forefinger. “What do you think? Do Ihave a future as a pig-upine butcher?”

Fantel stopped andlooked at him. “A what?” She asked delicately.

“This thing,” Henodded to the Yammik’a’lim carcass. “It looks like the product of an illicitliaison between a wild boar and a porcupine, hence the name.” He pausedthoughtfully. “Of course neither of those animals have antlers, but pig-upinetrips off the tongue far easier than dearcupine, or porcu-dear.”

“Are you feverish?” Sheasked him peering at him suspiciously.

“No.” Rashari blinkedat her. “Why do you ask?”

“You are talkinggibberish.” Laying down her coat wrapped bundle of kindling and armful of Nasristems she sunk down onto the ground opposite him.

“Thank you,” Rasharilooked more amused than offended. “What’s all that?” He nodded to the twigs andplants she had gathered.

“Hydration,” Fantelplucked up one of the blue Nasri stems. It was a good specimen. The stem wasthick and squishy. The flowers were round and bulbous sprouting in clumps up thelength of the stem much like Danitz Sprouts. The frill of short white petalsstuck out from each rounded nectar sac, plump and full. The nectar sacs werethickly veined and the flesh covered in a down of soft hairs. Drinkable watercould be scarce out on the Steppes, particular out on the H’malium plain. TheNasri flower had long been gathered as a substitute by hunters and travellers.The plant was fully edible from its petals to its roots and full of nutrients.The bundle she had gathered would last them tonight and into the morning butshe would have to collect more for the rest of the journey. They would need tokeep hydrated and she estimated they had at least another two days travellingover steep terrain before they made it to Olim’g. They could survive withoutfood for a few days should Fantel be unable to catch another meal, but theywould not last long without fluids.

Deftly pinching oneof the sacs between her fingers she twisted it loose from the stem and offeredit to Rashari. “Here. Eat this. It will help with your thirst.”

Eyeing the furry bluesac in her palm warily he made no move to take it from her. “I’d rather not.”

Fantel fixed him witha quelling look. “There is no water here. Death by thirst is a slow andunpleasant experience.”

He still lookedreluctant. “I haven’t had the best luck with the local plant-life. Are you sureit’s safe?”

“Perfectly,” Shefrowned. “Do you think I would offer you something that might do you harm?”

“No, no,” He wasquick to reassure her, “Of course not.” He sighed and took the plant from her, rollingit between his fingers gingerly. His expression was almost comical. If possiblehe looked even less enthused by the Nasri than he had the Yammik’a’lim. He wasa very odd human, peculiarly open-minded and practical one moment and peevishand immature the next. Squeezing his eyes closed he popped the Nasri into hismouth, grimace already fixed. She watched the muscles of his stubble coveredjaw move as he chewed. His eyes opened and a look of surprise smoothed thecrease from his brow. He swallowed.

“That was by no meansas unremittingly awful as I imagined.” He said.

“I am glad for you,”Fantel told him dryly. She twisted off another of the nectar sacs and chewed.Nasri nectar was tart and refreshing. Thicker than water in consistency it lefta vaguely gritty aftertaste. It had been a long time since she had tastedNasri. There really wasn’t anything like it back in human dominated Aldlis.

“It’s not preciselypleasant,” Rashari continued meditatively, reaching out a hand as Fantel passedhim another stem so he could take as much as he wanted. “It’s quite oddactually. Sour but without acidity; there’s a crispness to it which reminds ofgreen grapes, or gooseberries.” He shook his head and smiled, dark eyes dancing.“Please tell me the meat will taste like chicken.”

“Not especially.”Fantel paused in the action of plucking sacs from her own stem. “It is gamierthan that.”

“Which brings me tomy next question: how are we going to cook it?” He paused. “We don’t have toeat it raw do we, because taste aside, I am certain that will make us sick.”

“I can kindle a fireusing these,” She gestured to the C’aan twigs.

Rashari frowned alook of trepidation passing over his sharp features, “Kindle how?” A world ofwariness echoed in those two words. It was Fantel’s turn to frown at him.

“A simple trick ofsympathetic magic,” She caught sight of the alarm he didn’t quite manage tohide. “You doubt my capabilities.”

He winced. “It is notthat – precisely.” He avoided her eyes. “It is just that your magic seems tohave unpredictable consequences. When you offered to provide a stream to bathein we ended up almost drowned in a raging flood.” He glanced her way and musthave seen the flare of hurt and shame warming her cheeks because he hastened toreassure her. “Which I’m not blaming you for, obviously, but surely you can seemy point?”

“You fear I shallimmolate us both?” She was more than a little offended. The tiny magic she wasproposing to light the fire was quite different from what she had attemptedearlier. Sparking a flame was well within her capabilities even far fromBattlan and the magical energies in the air here.

To his credit he mether eyes steadily. “If you tell me now my fear is unwarranted I’ll say not one wordmore.”

“Your fear isunwarranted.” She told him crisply, more than a little stung. “Even a neophytehuman mage can kindle a small flame with the right conditions.” She glared athim. “You don’t trust me.” It was surprisingly hard to take. Had his assurancesearlier been nothing more than empty words? She would sooner he be honest andcritical than patronise her with false assurances.

“I trust youimplicitly,” he shot back, a hint of irritation in his tone, “and that is notsomething I say lightly. But trusting you does not preclude me from expressingconcern.” It was his turn to hold her gaze and refuse to allow her to lookaway. “I’m not a fool Madame. Something happened when you tried to contact theforest spirit, something which has left you shaken. Unless I am very muchmistaken, whatever happened has been weighing on your mind all day.” He archedan inquiring eyebrow. “Well, am I wrong?”

Fantel twitched, aninvoluntarily movement that gave everything away. She broke eye contact, hergaze seeking refuge on the ground. “I can light a fire.” She said, notanswering his question. After a long moment of silence she was drawn to lifther gaze to his. He watched her with sardonic eyes.

“Y’know, we’re reallygoing to have to work on your evasions. That was pitiful.” Waving a hand toward off her immediate protestation - which likely would have had no morechance of convincing him than her first attempt – Rashari rose to his feet,bending to wipe grass stems from his trousers. “Well nature calls. I’m going toreplace a bush to hide behind.” He glanced at her, a cynical light in his eyes.“I’ll let you alone to your fire-starting.”

Fantel watched himwander off for a moment, cheeks hot with a combination of hurt, guilt andannoyance, before turning back to the carcass and the c’aan twigs. Why hadn’tshe told Rashari about the other presence? He had handed her the perfectopportunity. He would believe her, she was sure of it. She knew well enoughthat he did trust her. He hadrepeatedly made it clear through word and deed that her companionship wasimportant to him, despite the fact that they were all but strangers throwntogether by circumstance alone. He might even be able to help her understandwhat was happening to her, yet for all that, she knew that she would not tellhim. She did not want to tell him. Shejust did not know quite why.

Movement in theperiphery of her vision drew her attention to Smith. The automaton crouched inthe grass surrounded by a small stack of Yammik’a’lim spines. His violet gazewas steady and inscrutable, yet somehow she sensed the slightest hint ofreproach.

“It is not in mynature to trust either,” she told him softly not sure if she was apologising ordefending her decision to keep the other presence a secret. If Smith had a replyshe could not hear it. After a moment of solemn silence the automaton scuttledaway in the direction Rashari had wandered off, leaving Fantel on her own.

The rest of the dayand into night was marred by wariness on both their parts. When night drew inthey quenched the fire and bedded down, but sleep evaded Fantel. She was boneweary, the meal of yammik’a’lim and nasri stems sitting heavy in her stomach.Her eyes burned with fatigue and her body ached all over. She longed for sleepyet it would not come. Her thoughts swirled sluggishly but a current of anxietybuzzed in the back of her mind. Every time she began to slip away into slumberthat current jolted her awake, grating on her like an exposed nerve.

Across the dousedcampfire Rashari lay on his side, his back to her, fast asleep if the rhythmichum of his breathing was any indication. Smith lay curled up in the grass byhis head. The automaton had hooked his legs together in a tight lattice, andthe violet light in his eight eyes had dimmed to a bare shadow of their usualbrilliance. Fantel assumed that Smith also was asleep. There was somethingdesperately lonely about being awake when those around you were lost in deepestslumber. It was worse by far than being sleepless and alone.

She sat up, drawingher knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She lookedacross the dead fire to Rashari. She envied him his rest, even though she knewhe needed it. She couldn’t help but feel just a little slighted that he sleptwith his back to her. When he’d returned to the campsite he’d been his usualjovial self, comparing the quality of their camp dinner to any number of fine –and not so fine – eating establishments he had visited all around Aldlis, yetthere remained a weight of things unspoken between them. Fantel couldn’t helpbut think he had retired early simply so he longer had to deal with her. Forher part Fantel had found the evening difficult. She was firm in her convictionnot to tell him about the other presence, yet she could come up with nojustification for it. Rashari had never pried into her past, had not in facteven asked the superficial questions that anyone might be expected to ask whenfirst meeting a new acquaintance. Fantel had appreciated this as she would nothave answered any questions had he asked them. Their association was notnormal; Fantel did not seek permanent companionship. She was an exile andalways alone, surrounded by races not her own and cultures strange and alien toher. She had no use for friendship. Rashari had embroiled her in his troublesthrough a mixture of accident and design – the balance of which she was stilldebating. He might think this made them comrades but Fantel knew better. Shehad agreed to help him because she could not walk away. She did not owe himanything more than the aid she had offered. She did not owe him her secrets.Even if he had willingly shared his own.

Why then did she feelso guilty?

The sky offered noanswers when she turned her restless gaze upward. The sun had plummeted belowthe horizon some hours before and plunged the plain into instant twilight. Nowpurplish clouds rolled across the night sky, the magic within creating its ownlight so that the night was not completely black. The stubbly grasses of theplain were painted in grey and purple shadow and the faintest breeze broughtthe taste of rain and magic with it. Fantel sighed and buried her head againsther knees. The dawn was a very long way off and she resigned herself to a longsleepless night ahead.