Emma pt. 10

Want to start at the beginning? - Emma, Part 1

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The lamps in her room cast dim light against the stone walls. It was impossible to tell if it was day or night, one of the things Emma had always hated about her room.

She sat on the bed, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap. She’d tried to sleep, but after a fitfully tossing about for what felt like hours, she decided to wash and dress and wait for the morning.

The side of the oil lamps had lines along them, designed to tell the time as the oil slowly burned. Dawn was near, according to the lamp, and soon she would be gone.

Soon she would leave this room, leave this house, leave the cold stone and the painted reliefs and her family and everything she knew.

She tried not to make it into more than it was. She would be returning here after the trip. She would see the same mattress, the same lamps, the same worn paths in the stone floor.

But she didn’t want to. It felt like a skin she was about to shed, she was sure if she tried to slip back into it after this it wouldn’t fit her anymore.

The room looked smaller than it ever had, empty with the few things she owned packed away. Her brush, three dresses, to wear in the city, the small book of poems her little sister had written for her.

Everything else was part of the house, or would be of no use on the trip. The goods she’d bought with Rilen were all packed and sitting in saddle bags near the front door - some food, a tent, travel clothes, not including what she wore now.

The clothes felt good on her, soft and comfortable. She wore pants, linen and wool, dyed yellow, and a loose linen shirt, white with yellow trimming. She also had a leather coat and new boots to go with it, but those sat at the end of the bed, waiting for the dawn.

There was a soft tapping at her door.

“Come,” she called.

The door opened but for a long moment no one entered. Finally a small head poked around the door, with brown hair done up in over a dozen small pony tales.

“Tilda, what do you need?” Emma asked.

Her sister darted into the room, jumping on the bed next to Emma, wrapping her arms around his sister’s waist.

“I didn’t wake you did I?”

“No, I couldn’t sleep.”

“How long will you be gone?” Tilda looked up at her with golden eyes.

“Six weeks at least, more if we linger in the city.”

“Can I come with you?”

Emma laughed and Tilda blushed a deep red. Emma was sorry in an instant and took her sister’s face in her hand.

“Not this time, but maybe someday. I’ll have to take the trip at least once a year. I’m sure you’ll be able to come along with me soon.”

“Tila?” A small voice called from the door, “are you in there?”

“I’m with Emma.” Tilda called back.

Moor walked cautiously in the room. He’d never been in Emma’s room before, never been into any of the bedrooms besides the one he shared with his sister. He wore a long white nightgown and his thin brown hair was a messy jumble. Emma held out her hand to him, encouraging him to come forward.

“You were gone Tila,” he said, his words still heavy with sleep, “and the door was open.”

“I wanted to see Emma.”

“Emma’s leaving.” Moor rubbed his eyes as he said it, not looking at his sisters.

“I know that,” Tilda’s voice was stern, lecturing, “that’s why I came to see her.”

Emma felt something tug inside of her and was suddenly very sorry that she wouldn’t be able to spend the day with her siblings.

“Will you bring me something from Blue Coast?” Tilda asked.

“Me too!” Moor said, rather loudly.

“What would you like?”

“A horse!” Moor said, “so I can be as fast as you.”

Emma smiled at him, “Mother was reluctant enough about me riding a horse Moor, I think we’ll have to wait a few years before she’ll let you have one. But I could get you a wooden horse.”

“Yes, that, I want that.” He walked to the edge of the bed and reached up to her, expecting her to pull him up in her lap. She took his hands and lifted him up and he curled in her lap.

“What about you Tilda?”

The little girl thought, scratching her head between the clumps of hair.

“They have a lot of ceruleanite in Blue Coast, right?”

“They do,” Emma nodded, “but there is a lot here in Paldurian as well. Mother has necklaces and earrings and -”

“Those are mother’s,” Tilda interrupted, “I want something of my own.”

“Right, of course. Then I’ll get you something of your own.” She stroked her sister on the cheek.

In her lap Moor was already fast asleep, breathing softly. They sat like that for a long time, the oil in the lamps burning steadily. Tilda rested her head on Emma’s arm and closed her eyes, soon drifting off. Emma wrapped one hand around Moor’s small arm, and the other around Tilda’s and squeezed them both lightly, trying to remember every detail of the moment so she could keep it with her.

Dawn came and went and Emma didn’t want to stand, didn’t want to disturb her brother or sister. She knew Deem would be there soon.

“Emma, dear, do you need me to carry these –” her father rounded the door and stopped talking the moment he saw what was inside.

He stern eyes melted at the sight, welling up with tears. Emma smiled at him and put her head down on top of Tilda’s.

“I seem to be trapped.” She said quietly.

Her father lifted Moor out of her lap and held him against his chest.

“Is Emma going now?” Moor said, still partly asleep.

“Yes dear,” their father said.

“Bye Emma,” he said, then rested his head against his father’s shoulder.

“Goodbye Moor,” Emma started to lift Tilda in the air, but the girl started awake, gripping at her sister.

“Are you leaving now?”

“Yes, the others will be here soon.”

“I want to come outside and watch you go.”

“Of course you do dear,” their father said, “Let’s just put Moor back to bed, and then we’ll see Emma off.”

Emma put on her boots and her leather coat, which fastened tightly across her chest. Tilda poked and pulled at the clothes, obviously jealous. Then Emma took her sister's hand and they walked through the stone house. They passed the murals of countryside and mountains, and they passed the stone furniture.

When they reached the front door Emma bent over to pick up her packs.

“Let me carry those for you, Emma,” her father said as he walked toward her, returning from Moor’s room.

“Oh, only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to darling.” He smiled and lifted a strap off her shoulder, placing it on his own.

 “Where are Mother and Nelum?” Emma asked.

“They are outside with Eibe, waiting for you,” he nodded at the door.

Emma lifted the handle of the round door and pushed it open, letting in a wave of fresh morning air.

Nelum leaned in the archway just past the front door, scratching at his unshaven face. He saw Emma and smiled. Then he saw the load in his father’s hands and lurched forward to help him carry it.

“You don’t have to,” Emma said, “I really can get it.”

“Don’t be silly dear, it’s the least we can do for such a respectable Patron,” her father smiled.

Eibe and their mother sat together on a small bench next to the road, soft morning sunlight bathing them.

“Eibe!” Tilda called and ran forward to her brother. He spun around and scooped her up, lifting her high into the air.

“Moor will be so sad he missed you.”

“Oh, well I can stay until he wakes up.”

“Could you stay for lunch?” Tilda asked.

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

He still held her and she hugged him around the neck. Then he put her down and approached Emma.

“You really did give a wonderful speech at the Assembly, Emma. Even if it was on behalf of a human.”

“It was on behalf of Deem.”

Eibe nodded, “Yes. Well, you know your duty. I trust you to make sure their business is run in accordance to dwin laws, not human ones.”

It was too early for Emma to be thinking about laws and rules and the Assembly. She had too much else to process, so she only nodded at her brother and held him for a short hug.

Shapes formed on the road, riders and horses, carts and kewels. Emma’s stomach gave a lurch.

“Which horse will you ride Emma?” Tilda was now sitting in their mother’s lap; the Lady of Laudriel did not look pleased with the question.

“I’m not sure Tilda,” she looked at her mother, “but I’m sure it will be a good one.”

As if on command a rider broke away from the group and galloped forward, leading a horse by a long leather cord. It only took a moment for Emma to see Lison’s dark hair and his wide smile. Though she was delighted to see him, she knew it would have been better if Deem or Rilen had greeted her first, to ease any worries her family had about Emma traveling with humans.

Lison rode a dark black horse with a long white stripe down its nose; the horse he led was Juniper. He wore the same dirty leather jacket he had on night Emma met him, and his black hair was windblown.

Emma wanted to call out to him, asking why he wasn’t riding Juniper, but words died in her mind when she thought of her family around her. Then her face blushed and her pulse raced as she realized that Lison might say something about their midnight ride together.

She didn’t know how to signal to him to not mention anything, but the wink he gave her as he reared up seemed reassuring.

“My little Lady of Laudriel,” he said, which caused Emma’s mother to scowl, “this sweet horse is Juniper. She will be perfect for you. She is small, well behaved, and patient with new riders.”

 “Are you sure you won’t just ride along on one of the carts, Emma?” Her father asked, inspecting the horse and the man suspiciously.

“I’ll be safe Father, dwin in Blue Coast ride horses all the time.” She wasn’t sure if it was true, but it felt like the right thing to say.

By now the others in the party had caught up. Four carts and one wagon came to a halt on the road, along with a few horses, riders waiting in their saddles. Rilen sat at the front of the wagon, which was full of dwin and a few humans. She jumped down and ran toward Emma.

“Shall I put these on the saddle, or in one of these carts?” Her father asked as Emma hugged Rilen.

“Come here before you climb on that beast.” Her mother was holding out her arms to Emma.

Rilen gave Emma a quick, supportive look, then Emma went to her mother, reaching out to hug her. Tilda jumped in, trying to hug both women at the same time.

“Remember Emma,” her mother said in her ear, “this is not some adventure. You are the hand of the Ardent.”

When Emma pulled away her mother’s gaze followed her intently. Emma nodded at her mother while hugging Tilda one more time.

“Let me take those,” Lison said, jumping down from his horse and taking the saddlebags from Emma’s father and brother.

He strapped them onto Juniper’s saddle and waited next to the horse for Emma.

“Are you ready?” Rilen asked. Her hair was all tucked into a floppy hat, and she wore clothes that almost matched Emma’s but were green instead of yellow.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“My, you have those carts loaded very lightly, don’t you? You could have one less cart and set of kewel if you had packed them tighter,” Emma’s father observed.

“It’s on purpose,” Deem called from the seat of his wagon, “this way if something happens to one of them we don’t lose all our supplies at once.”

Her father nodded, his mouth turned in acceptance, but his eyes still doubting.

“Is our Patron ready to mount up?” Parien called from the back of her horse.

“I think so.” Emma said.

Her father reached over and hugged her, squeezing her close before letting her go. Rilen returned to her seat next to Deem, and Lison held his hands out to Emma.

He raised his eyebrows at her playfully, and she smiled at him. He lifted her up into the air and placed her on the saddle. She was worried about riding off in front of her family, but Lison lead Juniper, keeping her steady as they made their way down the road.

“Goodbye Emma.” Tilda called.

Emma turned to see them, her mother on the bench, her father now sitting as well. Eibe stood next to them, his arms crossed in front of his chest, the early morning light reflecting off his shaved head. Tilda was on Nelum’s shoulders, waving and smiling.

Emma waved back, then turned to the road ahead. 

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Continue to part 11