Emma, pt. 16
Want to start at the beginning? - Emma, pt 1.
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Sil’s feet made no noise as he walked through the wet grass. Emma lightened her step to match his so her own feet slid over the damp ground noiselessly. The light of the fire behind them was a harsh glare on an otherwise dark landscape.
A cold breeze raised goose-pimples on her arms, and she regretted leaving her jacket in the tent.
Sil lead her down a slope so the camp was above them. Tents and horses vanished over the lip of the hill, followed by the fire so only an orange glow in the air remained. He kept walking, not speaking, keeping his eyes on his footing. When even the faint light of the fire began to fade, unease rippled through Emma’s gut.
“How much farther?” she asked.
Sil stopped and turned back to the camp, then to Emma, looking her up and down. He crouched down, resting one hand in grass.
“We can stop here.”
Emma looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something. Even though there was little light, Emma’s sharp dwin eyes could pick out most of Sil’s features: his blue eyes alert, his small chin set as he clenched his jaw. He looked up at her and jerked his head down, indicating she should settle in the grass next to him.
She sighed heavily and shook her head, “It’s soaking wet.”
He looked at the grass as if noticing the dampness for the first time. He pulled his jacket off and spread it out, gesturing curtly at it when he was done.
“Sil what is this about?” Emma asked as she sat sat uneasily on the coat, crossing her legs.
He remained crouched, looking around the darkness as he spoke.
“I just wanted to make sure we weren’t overheard. Deem and Parien ordered those of us who know to keep it to ourselves.” A conflicted expression passed across his face, then he looked Emma in the eyes, “I don’t like going against orders, but there were higher duties to think about.”
“Higher duties? Sil, you aren’t making any sense.”
“What do you know about Emissaries?” Even as the last word was coming out of his mouth he waved his hands at her, indicating she should not answer him, “What you are, a Patron, that makes you The Ardent’s Emissary, the way I see it. It makes you an Emissary of one of the gods.”
Emma scowled. Of all the things she thought he could have dragged her out her to talk about, The Ardent and gods were not on the list. She decided to try and take control of the conversation.
“Sil, you made it sound like there is something Deem is keeping from me. What is it?”
Sil looked confused but kept talking, not making any other indication that he’d heard her, “I know about Emissaries, about what it means to have such loyalty.”
She reached out and gripped his arm and he started, blinking at her. “Please, just tell me what Deem is keeping from me.”
“Matron Wood,” Sil said, jerking his head to the north, to where the Red Iron Forest sat, hidden in the dark. “There are men in the forest, poaching it, they need us to transport it to Blue Coast for them.”
“Matron Wood?” She shook her head and pulled her hand from his arm, “Deem wouldn’t. It’s illegal.”
“Illegal under dwin law, but it’s traded in dozens of human cities.”
“But it’s a home, elves live in Matron Wood groves. Or, at least some of them do. They wouldn’t let someone cut it down.”
“Red Iron is full of abandoned groves, maybe dozens of them. The elves left the forest generations ago after the treaty with the Mahyaran.” Emma tried to recalled what she knew of the conflict, but Sil continued talking, drowning out her thoughts, “Blue Coast allows the trade of Matron Wood, but some of the elven citizens, as you can imagine, do not like that policy. They form something of a militia and watch incoming traffic for poachers.”
Questions sprang to Emma’s mind, one after another. How long had this poaching been going on? What did it do to the elves who had been born of that wood? Why would anyone cut down Matron Wood at all? They rolled in her mind as she stared into Sil’s blue eyes, but in the end there was only one question that mattered.
“That’s why Deem wanted me as a Patron, isn't it? He wanted me and not someone experienced, someone older or more knowledgeable about trade, because he thought he could hide it from me.”
Sil did not answer right away, he watched above Emma’s head, up to the faint glow of firelight atop the hill and spoke without looking at her, “He didn’t want a Patron at all, not with this business, but he had no choice, he though his contract wouldn’t have been accepted otherwise.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because he didn’t, he keeps letting Parien talk him out of it. But said he would, from that first night he said we should tell you, that you’d know better than to let dwin customs get in the way of business.”
“But this isn’t custom,” Emma was startled by how loud her voice was and glanced around her, afraid it had been heard. Sil looked down at her and she continued in a controlled tone, “Elves need Matron Wood to have children, taking a grove from them would be like cutting an organ out of a person.”
Sil considered that, “Some would say that clearing an abandoned grove would do no harm. Elves can always create new groves if they need them.”
Emma shook her head in confusion, “I thought you were telling me this because you know what they are doing is wrong.”
“No, I know it’s against dwin law, against the will of the Ardent, and you are the will of the Ardent, Emma. You had the right to know.”
A heavy weight pulled at Emma’s middle, like she’d swallowed a stone. For a moment she imagined the heavy hand of the Ardent, its huge fist balled tight.
She watched Sil, turning over everything she knew about elves and Matron Wood and their journey. Sil did not speak, maybe waiting for her, eventually looking away, his eyes resting on the edge of the hill.
“I’m sorry,” Emma finally said, “I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.”
“I can’t help you with that.”
Emma laughed scornfully, “Then why tell me at all?”
Sil looked confused, “I just said. Because -”
She cut him off, “Yes, because I’m a Patron and you thought I deserved to know, but what am I supposed to do with that? Do you think I should turn Deem in?”
“I’m not an Emissary to your god. I don’t know what he would expect of you, what duties you have to him.”
There was an edge to his tone, a passion she had not heard in him before. If only to distract herself from thinking about Deem, about the choices that lay ahead of her, she questioned him about it.
“Sil, what is this to you? Why do you care so much about my duties and my god?”
“That’s what I tried,” he stopped for a moment and pursed his lips in frustration, signed quickly, then continued, “I tried to explain it to you, before. I know about Emissaries, about gods, about what it means to dedicate your life to something so great.” He was flustered, his words halting.
“Sil?” Emma wanted to reach out a hand to him, but was unsure he would accept it.
His eyes still looking above her head, he dropped his knees into the damp grass, “I was an Emissary to the god Necba, a long time ago.” He spoke the god’s name so quietly Emma wasn’t sure she’d heard it right.
The silence that hung between them felt heavier than before and Emma wanted to be able to respond, but found no words. Soon she hoped Sil would say something, or failing that, that he might go back to camp and leave her alone with her thoughts. Instead he shifted on his knees, still looking around into the dark.
“How do they plan to get past the elves?” Emma finally asked.
“There are no elves in Red Iron anymore.”
“No,” Emma shook her head, “In the city. You said there were elves that watched for anyone transporting Matron Wood. How does Deem plan to get by them.”
Sil nodded in understanding, “Right,” he pushed up off his knees and onto the balls of his feet, crouching again, “well, they won’t check us, will they.”
“What, just because some of us are dwin?”
“A dwin overseer and a dwin Patron, they know the Assembly wouldn’t allow such a group to transport Matron Wood.”
“And they will just look at me and know I’m a Patron.” In her experience elves could look at you in way that made you feel naked and exposed, but they weren’t capable of reading minds.
“They don’t wait at the city gates inspecting goods. They have spies among the gatekeepers telling them what goes in an out of the city.”
“And they won’t tell the elves that we have Matron Wood?”
“Well, we aren’t going to leave it hanging out for everyone to see. But they aren’t going to look too closely either, not with our papers.”
“Deem was going to tell me?” As Sil opened his mouth to answer, Emma spoke over him, her voice high again, “Does Rilen know. She couldn’t know, she would have told me.”
“He didn’t want to put her in a position to keep something from you.”
“You mean he didn’t think she’d lie for him.” The uncomfortable weight in Emma gut lightened by a fraction when she realized that she was not alone in this, that she could consult Rilen.
“How many others know?”
“All of the old crew, and a few of the people we hired in Paldurain.”
She wanted to ask more but pressure pushed at the back of her throat, the feeling of tears about to form on her eyes, and she didn’t want to sit in a dark field on Sil’s wet jacket sobbing. Her hand darted to her eye, wiping away tears that had not formed, and she stood up.
“I need to go back, I need to think about this.”
“Of course.”
She lifted the jacket from the ground and handed it to him. He pulled it over his arms, seemingly oblivious to the damp that had soaked through it.
To climb back up the slope Emma had to bend down, reaching her hands out to steady herself as her feet tried to find purchase in the wet grass. Sil walked next to her, also seeming to struggle with the incline. After they’d been climbing for a few minutes he lifted his head, surprised by something.
“Emma, I think we should go that way a bit,” he gestured off to the right.
She was about to comply when she heard a clear, high voice, it carried over the edge of the hill and she tilted her ear towards it. It only took a moment to recognize it as Parien, and she keep saying Emma’s name.
“We’re at the wrong end of the camp,” Sil said, “we’ll come up right at the fire here. We should go -”
Emma waved a hand at him and climbed further, bending down closer to the ground so her head wouldn’t be seen over the lip of the hill.
Seeming to understand Emma’s intent, Sil flattened himself against the ground and climbed after.
The red-orange glow of firelight spilled over the grassy hill, obscuring the starry sky above. She rested on her elbows, stopping to listen. At first the voices were coming too fast for Emma to follow but as she put names to voices, picturing each person in her mind, it became easier to follow.
“There are other things to consider, I will have to do business in Paldurain again.” There was an angry tone in Deem’s voice that Emma had not heard before. She felt a chill when she tried to picture his face.
“Once we are done with Akarn and his woodcutters we will not need to go back to that valley.” Parien sounded as unperturbed and airy as ever.
“That valley is my home.” The anger in Deem’s voice hardened into something commanding.
“And it’s a wonderful place, but it isn’t exactly full of business opportunities. In a two years we could be set up in our own trade shop in Daldurive.”
“I’m not interested in getting caught up in trade routes out of the south sea.”
“Well I am.” Parien’s airy tone slipped slightly.
“Look, the two of you can sort out your holdings some other time,” A fluttering spasm moved through Emma’s gut when she heard Lison’s voice, “we are talking about what we should tell Emma before tomorrow night.”
“Well that’s the issue isn’t it. Deem is worried that if our Patron finds out the truth, he won’t be able to do business in his pretty dwin valley again. So I say don’t tell her.”
“I’m worried, Parien, that I, and every other dwin here will be put to hard labor, Emma included.” Emma inhaled a sharp breath, thinking for the first time about how her role in this might be viewed by the Assembly, “I want to tell her, I want to explain it to her, otherwise she might feel she has no choice but to report us.”
“If she even knows we’re doing it.” Lison said lightly.
“You think she won’t notice that two of our carts are riding three feet higher in the air?” Deem asked.
“Why should she? Sil and I built them to conceal the cargo.” Emma looked to Sil, his expression impossible to read, as usual. “Or are you planning to tell every dwin we hired in Palurain?”
“Of course I am. I only hired people I know won’t care about some long abandoned grove of elf-wood. I would have told Emma by now if Parien and you hadn’t convinced me to let you play out this scheme to distract her.”
“It’s worked hasn’t it?” Lison said, “I bet when she goes to bed at night she doesn’t even remember why we’re out here, she’s only wondering if I’ll kiss her tomorrow.”
The hot flush that rushed to Emma’s cheeks threatened to carry angry tears with it. She hid her head in the grass, the cold wetness hugging her face. She didn’t want to hear anything else while, but the words kept coming.
“You’ve been lucky Lison, that no one gossips about Jori spending half the night in your tent.”
Lison scoffed, “I think only you noticed that Parien, but thanks for sharing, now everyone here can gossip it tomorrow.”
“No one is gossiping anything, and tomorrow we are telling Emma the truth.” Deem spoke in a way that said he wasn’t accepting disagreement.
“I’ll do it,” Lison volunteered. Emma felt something sour rising in her as he spoke, “We’ll ride out ahead of everyone, you can tell your sister separately. It’ll be better that way.”
“Rilen...” Deem sounded deflated when he said it.
Lison continued, “And maybe tomorrow I’ll give Emma a lot more to think about than some silly matter of trade goods.”
Emma could picture Lison’s bright lips, half pulled up in a grin, but the image turned her stomach.
“I want to go,” she lifted her head out of the grass and whispered to Sil.
He didn’t nod or look her in the eye, but pushed up from the grass slightly and crawled behind her. She followed, conscious to keep herself low and to make as little sound as possible. Everything she’d heard kept tumbling over itself in her mind, grinding against each other and collapsing into one conclusion - she’d been a blind fool.
Sil stood up in front of her, startling her. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed them, but saw only the outline of a few tents against a dark background. They were up over the hill and the fire was far behind them.
Sil pointed to her tent, as though she might not recognize it in the dark.
“If you want to tell Deem I’m the one who told you, I’ll understand,” Sil said, “I’ve always respected him, I like working for him, but I think he was wrong. In fact, I can tell him.”
“Sil,” Emma put her hand on his arm, “I’m not sure what I’ll do yet, but let me be the one to talk to Deem, please.”
“Alright,” he nodded and started to turn.
“Sil,” she gripped his arm, trying to turn him back around, “wait.”
He fixed his blue eyes on her.
“Thank you. I’m glad you told me. It means something that you respected me enough not to keep it secret.”
“I would have told you sooner if I knew Deem might not tell you at all.”
“That means something to,” she smiled weakly.
“Lison isn’t a bad guy.” Sil said, causing Emma’s heart to speed up, “What he did to you, this game, it’s a awful thing to do, but really, he’s just trying to impress Parien. He wants to prove he can get things done.”
“That make it better?”
“No it’s just,” he looked confused for a moment, like he wasn’t sure if he could explain himself, “I guess he’s my friend, the first I’ve had in a long time, I just wanted to defend him.”
Emma nodded, wearily “Good night Sil.”
“Night Emma.” His tone was so calm, so normal, conveying no hint of what they had just talked about and overheard, that for a second Emma could almost think that none of it happened.
Then he was gone and she was left with the heavy anger and worry in her stomach. She hoped Rilen was awake in the tent, but would not hesitate to wake her if she wasn’t. She could not stand to wait until morning to talk to her friend.
---
Sil’s feet made no noise as he walked through the wet grass. Emma lightened her step to match his so her own feet slid over the damp ground noiselessly. The light of the fire behind them was a harsh glare on an otherwise dark landscape.
A cold breeze raised goose-pimples on her arms, and she regretted leaving her jacket in the tent.
Sil lead her down a slope so the camp was above them. Tents and horses vanished over the lip of the hill, followed by the fire so only an orange glow in the air remained. He kept walking, not speaking, keeping his eyes on his footing. When even the faint light of the fire began to fade, unease rippled through Emma’s gut.
“How much farther?” she asked.
Sil stopped and turned back to the camp, then to Emma, looking her up and down. He crouched down, resting one hand in grass.
“We can stop here.”
Emma looked at him for a moment, waiting for him to say something. Even though there was little light, Emma’s sharp dwin eyes could pick out most of Sil’s features: his blue eyes alert, his small chin set as he clenched his jaw. He looked up at her and jerked his head down, indicating she should settle in the grass next to him.
She sighed heavily and shook her head, “It’s soaking wet.”
He looked at the grass as if noticing the dampness for the first time. He pulled his jacket off and spread it out, gesturing curtly at it when he was done.
“Sil what is this about?” Emma asked as she sat sat uneasily on the coat, crossing her legs.
He remained crouched, looking around the darkness as he spoke.
“I just wanted to make sure we weren’t overheard. Deem and Parien ordered those of us who know to keep it to ourselves.” A conflicted expression passed across his face, then he looked Emma in the eyes, “I don’t like going against orders, but there were higher duties to think about.”
“Higher duties? Sil, you aren’t making any sense.”
“What do you know about Emissaries?” Even as the last word was coming out of his mouth he waved his hands at her, indicating she should not answer him, “What you are, a Patron, that makes you The Ardent’s Emissary, the way I see it. It makes you an Emissary of one of the gods.”
Emma scowled. Of all the things she thought he could have dragged her out her to talk about, The Ardent and gods were not on the list. She decided to try and take control of the conversation.
“Sil, you made it sound like there is something Deem is keeping from me. What is it?”
Sil looked confused but kept talking, not making any other indication that he’d heard her, “I know about Emissaries, about what it means to have such loyalty.”
She reached out and gripped his arm and he started, blinking at her. “Please, just tell me what Deem is keeping from me.”
“Matron Wood,” Sil said, jerking his head to the north, to where the Red Iron Forest sat, hidden in the dark. “There are men in the forest, poaching it, they need us to transport it to Blue Coast for them.”
“Matron Wood?” She shook her head and pulled her hand from his arm, “Deem wouldn’t. It’s illegal.”
“Illegal under dwin law, but it’s traded in dozens of human cities.”
“But it’s a home, elves live in Matron Wood groves. Or, at least some of them do. They wouldn’t let someone cut it down.”
“Red Iron is full of abandoned groves, maybe dozens of them. The elves left the forest generations ago after the treaty with the Mahyaran.” Emma tried to recalled what she knew of the conflict, but Sil continued talking, drowning out her thoughts, “Blue Coast allows the trade of Matron Wood, but some of the elven citizens, as you can imagine, do not like that policy. They form something of a militia and watch incoming traffic for poachers.”
Questions sprang to Emma’s mind, one after another. How long had this poaching been going on? What did it do to the elves who had been born of that wood? Why would anyone cut down Matron Wood at all? They rolled in her mind as she stared into Sil’s blue eyes, but in the end there was only one question that mattered.
“That’s why Deem wanted me as a Patron, isn't it? He wanted me and not someone experienced, someone older or more knowledgeable about trade, because he thought he could hide it from me.”
Sil did not answer right away, he watched above Emma’s head, up to the faint glow of firelight atop the hill and spoke without looking at her, “He didn’t want a Patron at all, not with this business, but he had no choice, he though his contract wouldn’t have been accepted otherwise.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because he didn’t, he keeps letting Parien talk him out of it. But said he would, from that first night he said we should tell you, that you’d know better than to let dwin customs get in the way of business.”
“But this isn’t custom,” Emma was startled by how loud her voice was and glanced around her, afraid it had been heard. Sil looked down at her and she continued in a controlled tone, “Elves need Matron Wood to have children, taking a grove from them would be like cutting an organ out of a person.”
Sil considered that, “Some would say that clearing an abandoned grove would do no harm. Elves can always create new groves if they need them.”
Emma shook her head in confusion, “I thought you were telling me this because you know what they are doing is wrong.”
“No, I know it’s against dwin law, against the will of the Ardent, and you are the will of the Ardent, Emma. You had the right to know.”
A heavy weight pulled at Emma’s middle, like she’d swallowed a stone. For a moment she imagined the heavy hand of the Ardent, its huge fist balled tight.
She watched Sil, turning over everything she knew about elves and Matron Wood and their journey. Sil did not speak, maybe waiting for her, eventually looking away, his eyes resting on the edge of the hill.
“I’m sorry,” Emma finally said, “I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do.”
“I can’t help you with that.”
Emma laughed scornfully, “Then why tell me at all?”
Sil looked confused, “I just said. Because -”
She cut him off, “Yes, because I’m a Patron and you thought I deserved to know, but what am I supposed to do with that? Do you think I should turn Deem in?”
“I’m not an Emissary to your god. I don’t know what he would expect of you, what duties you have to him.”
There was an edge to his tone, a passion she had not heard in him before. If only to distract herself from thinking about Deem, about the choices that lay ahead of her, she questioned him about it.
“Sil, what is this to you? Why do you care so much about my duties and my god?”
“That’s what I tried,” he stopped for a moment and pursed his lips in frustration, signed quickly, then continued, “I tried to explain it to you, before. I know about Emissaries, about gods, about what it means to dedicate your life to something so great.” He was flustered, his words halting.
“Sil?” Emma wanted to reach out a hand to him, but was unsure he would accept it.
His eyes still looking above her head, he dropped his knees into the damp grass, “I was an Emissary to the god Necba, a long time ago.” He spoke the god’s name so quietly Emma wasn’t sure she’d heard it right.
The silence that hung between them felt heavier than before and Emma wanted to be able to respond, but found no words. Soon she hoped Sil would say something, or failing that, that he might go back to camp and leave her alone with her thoughts. Instead he shifted on his knees, still looking around into the dark.
“How do they plan to get past the elves?” Emma finally asked.
“There are no elves in Red Iron anymore.”
“No,” Emma shook her head, “In the city. You said there were elves that watched for anyone transporting Matron Wood. How does Deem plan to get by them.”
Sil nodded in understanding, “Right,” he pushed up off his knees and onto the balls of his feet, crouching again, “well, they won’t check us, will they.”
“What, just because some of us are dwin?”
“A dwin overseer and a dwin Patron, they know the Assembly wouldn’t allow such a group to transport Matron Wood.”
“And they will just look at me and know I’m a Patron.” In her experience elves could look at you in way that made you feel naked and exposed, but they weren’t capable of reading minds.
“They don’t wait at the city gates inspecting goods. They have spies among the gatekeepers telling them what goes in an out of the city.”
“And they won’t tell the elves that we have Matron Wood?”
“Well, we aren’t going to leave it hanging out for everyone to see. But they aren’t going to look too closely either, not with our papers.”
“Deem was going to tell me?” As Sil opened his mouth to answer, Emma spoke over him, her voice high again, “Does Rilen know. She couldn’t know, she would have told me.”
“He didn’t want to put her in a position to keep something from you.”
“You mean he didn’t think she’d lie for him.” The uncomfortable weight in Emma gut lightened by a fraction when she realized that she was not alone in this, that she could consult Rilen.
“How many others know?”
“All of the old crew, and a few of the people we hired in Paldurain.”
She wanted to ask more but pressure pushed at the back of her throat, the feeling of tears about to form on her eyes, and she didn’t want to sit in a dark field on Sil’s wet jacket sobbing. Her hand darted to her eye, wiping away tears that had not formed, and she stood up.
“I need to go back, I need to think about this.”
“Of course.”
She lifted the jacket from the ground and handed it to him. He pulled it over his arms, seemingly oblivious to the damp that had soaked through it.
To climb back up the slope Emma had to bend down, reaching her hands out to steady herself as her feet tried to find purchase in the wet grass. Sil walked next to her, also seeming to struggle with the incline. After they’d been climbing for a few minutes he lifted his head, surprised by something.
“Emma, I think we should go that way a bit,” he gestured off to the right.
She was about to comply when she heard a clear, high voice, it carried over the edge of the hill and she tilted her ear towards it. It only took a moment to recognize it as Parien, and she keep saying Emma’s name.
“We’re at the wrong end of the camp,” Sil said, “we’ll come up right at the fire here. We should go -”
Emma waved a hand at him and climbed further, bending down closer to the ground so her head wouldn’t be seen over the lip of the hill.
Seeming to understand Emma’s intent, Sil flattened himself against the ground and climbed after.
The red-orange glow of firelight spilled over the grassy hill, obscuring the starry sky above. She rested on her elbows, stopping to listen. At first the voices were coming too fast for Emma to follow but as she put names to voices, picturing each person in her mind, it became easier to follow.
“There are other things to consider, I will have to do business in Paldurain again.” There was an angry tone in Deem’s voice that Emma had not heard before. She felt a chill when she tried to picture his face.
“Once we are done with Akarn and his woodcutters we will not need to go back to that valley.” Parien sounded as unperturbed and airy as ever.
“That valley is my home.” The anger in Deem’s voice hardened into something commanding.
“And it’s a wonderful place, but it isn’t exactly full of business opportunities. In a two years we could be set up in our own trade shop in Daldurive.”
“I’m not interested in getting caught up in trade routes out of the south sea.”
“Well I am.” Parien’s airy tone slipped slightly.
“Look, the two of you can sort out your holdings some other time,” A fluttering spasm moved through Emma’s gut when she heard Lison’s voice, “we are talking about what we should tell Emma before tomorrow night.”
“Well that’s the issue isn’t it. Deem is worried that if our Patron finds out the truth, he won’t be able to do business in his pretty dwin valley again. So I say don’t tell her.”
“I’m worried, Parien, that I, and every other dwin here will be put to hard labor, Emma included.” Emma inhaled a sharp breath, thinking for the first time about how her role in this might be viewed by the Assembly, “I want to tell her, I want to explain it to her, otherwise she might feel she has no choice but to report us.”
“If she even knows we’re doing it.” Lison said lightly.
“You think she won’t notice that two of our carts are riding three feet higher in the air?” Deem asked.
“Why should she? Sil and I built them to conceal the cargo.” Emma looked to Sil, his expression impossible to read, as usual. “Or are you planning to tell every dwin we hired in Palurain?”
“Of course I am. I only hired people I know won’t care about some long abandoned grove of elf-wood. I would have told Emma by now if Parien and you hadn’t convinced me to let you play out this scheme to distract her.”
“It’s worked hasn’t it?” Lison said, “I bet when she goes to bed at night she doesn’t even remember why we’re out here, she’s only wondering if I’ll kiss her tomorrow.”
The hot flush that rushed to Emma’s cheeks threatened to carry angry tears with it. She hid her head in the grass, the cold wetness hugging her face. She didn’t want to hear anything else while, but the words kept coming.
“You’ve been lucky Lison, that no one gossips about Jori spending half the night in your tent.”
Lison scoffed, “I think only you noticed that Parien, but thanks for sharing, now everyone here can gossip it tomorrow.”
“No one is gossiping anything, and tomorrow we are telling Emma the truth.” Deem spoke in a way that said he wasn’t accepting disagreement.
“I’ll do it,” Lison volunteered. Emma felt something sour rising in her as he spoke, “We’ll ride out ahead of everyone, you can tell your sister separately. It’ll be better that way.”
“Rilen...” Deem sounded deflated when he said it.
Lison continued, “And maybe tomorrow I’ll give Emma a lot more to think about than some silly matter of trade goods.”
Emma could picture Lison’s bright lips, half pulled up in a grin, but the image turned her stomach.
“I want to go,” she lifted her head out of the grass and whispered to Sil.
He didn’t nod or look her in the eye, but pushed up from the grass slightly and crawled behind her. She followed, conscious to keep herself low and to make as little sound as possible. Everything she’d heard kept tumbling over itself in her mind, grinding against each other and collapsing into one conclusion - she’d been a blind fool.
Sil stood up in front of her, startling her. She looked around to see if anyone had noticed them, but saw only the outline of a few tents against a dark background. They were up over the hill and the fire was far behind them.
Sil pointed to her tent, as though she might not recognize it in the dark.
“If you want to tell Deem I’m the one who told you, I’ll understand,” Sil said, “I’ve always respected him, I like working for him, but I think he was wrong. In fact, I can tell him.”
“Sil,” Emma put her hand on his arm, “I’m not sure what I’ll do yet, but let me be the one to talk to Deem, please.”
“Alright,” he nodded and started to turn.
“Sil,” she gripped his arm, trying to turn him back around, “wait.”
He fixed his blue eyes on her.
“Thank you. I’m glad you told me. It means something that you respected me enough not to keep it secret.”
“I would have told you sooner if I knew Deem might not tell you at all.”
“That means something to,” she smiled weakly.
“Lison isn’t a bad guy.” Sil said, causing Emma’s heart to speed up, “What he did to you, this game, it’s a awful thing to do, but really, he’s just trying to impress Parien. He wants to prove he can get things done.”
“That make it better?”
“No it’s just,” he looked confused for a moment, like he wasn’t sure if he could explain himself, “I guess he’s my friend, the first I’ve had in a long time, I just wanted to defend him.”
Emma nodded, wearily “Good night Sil.”
“Night Emma.” His tone was so calm, so normal, conveying no hint of what they had just talked about and overheard, that for a second Emma could almost think that none of it happened.
Then he was gone and she was left with the heavy anger and worry in her stomach. She hoped Rilen was awake in the tent, but would not hesitate to wake her if she wasn’t. She could not stand to wait until morning to talk to her friend.
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