Elaine Cunningham: Realms of Mystery

“So, do you want me to bring some firewood over to your cottage tonight?”

Lynaelle swallowed nervously, thankful it had grown dark enough by this time that the young man couldn’t see. “Uh, urn, yes, okay.” Stop acting like a thimblehead, you foolish girl! She took a deep breath. “Yes, I would like that. After I get Ambriel home.”

Daleon arose, setting the still unwashed bowl down next to the rest of the pile. “All right, then. I’m going to have another slice of pie and go listen to the story.” He smiled that smile once more, and Lynaelle felt goose bumps and shivered. “Don’t make me wait too long, though.” He spun on his heel, a pie plate in his hand with a full quarter of a pie still in it, and went to join the rest of the crowd.

Lynaelle stared after the handsome young man as he departed, both thrilled and worried. Then she turned her attention back to the dishes and sighed, staring at the dirty bowl. Typical, she grimaced, flinging it into the water and attacking it vigorously with the brush. Their idea of helping is to keep you company while you do the work. And I, of course, was swooning with delight the whole time, like some addlebrained maiden. Humans may understand the ways of love, but I sure don’t.

Ambriel finished his story, and as the gathering began to break up, Lynaelle hurriedly finished the dishes and went to escort her mentor home. It had begun to rain, as she had expected, but under the protection of the forest it was really little more than a light drizzle. Nonetheless, the two pulled the hoods of their cloaks up to protect them from the dampness. Lynaelle fetched and carried a lantern for them as they walked along the path toward Ambriel’s cottage at the edge of the hamlet, her other hand on his arm.

“I missed your story tonight,” she lamented. “You must promise to tell it to me tomorrow. Mavin and Teress ordered me to do the dishes.”

“Did you get them nice and clean?” Ambriel teased.

“I did,” Lynaelle said indignantly. “Daleon came over and offered to help, but he just ended up talking my ear off.”

Ambriel chuckled. “I think he’s sweet on you, Lynnie.” Lynaelle stammered, “I…he…I…I find him interesting, I suppose.” She hoped she sounded noncommittal. “He seems like such a scoundrel, though. Don’t you ever get a sense that he’s up to no good?”

“Of course. All the time,” Ambriel replied, a chuckle in his voice. “Especially where your virtue is concerned.”

Lynaelle made a strangled noise and sputtered “Ambriel! That’s not what I meant, and you know it!”

“What’s wrong, Lynnie? Worried that you’ll no longer have my undying love?” he teased. “Don’t worry, I promise not to be too jealous.”

Lynaelle rolled her eyes. “You’re terrible!”

Ambriel laughed at her reaction and continued, “As for the dish duty, well, I suppose it’s only fair, seeing as how I keep you busy with other things most of the day. There are some who feel we don’t do our share. Mavin more strongly than most.”

“Oh, I don’t mind the work,” Lynaelle replied, grateful for a change of subject. “It’s just the way she delights in glaring at me. What did I ever do to make her hate me?”

Ambriel grew quiet for a time before answering the girl. “This world holds many wonders, for those who have the gumption to go find them. But some folk can’t seem to see past the differences between themselves and everyone else.

“I will tell you this, though, child. For every cold and unhappy person like Mavin, there is a person who cares not one wit about your heritage, only that you are warm and kind and trustworthy. Those kinds of people you can be proud to call ‘friend.’ Like Daleon, for instance.”

Lynaelle groaned, realizing Ambriel had found a way to bring the fellow up again. “He’s convinced you to help him charm me. You’re conspiring together!”

Ambriel chuckled. “Don’t disparage his kindness too quickly, child. He seems to find you interesting enough.” They had reached Ambriel’s cottage.

“Yes, I know. He’s coming over tonight to talk for a while.” The girl admitted, her tone warning Ambriel against further quips at her expense.

The pair entered into the cottage, and Lynaelle began took his book of spells over to a trunk at the foot of his bed. He uttered a few phrases, softly enough that to light the various candles and lamps while Ambriel Lynaelle could not make them out, and then lifted the lid, He deposited the book atop a folded section of royal blue canvas adorned with a silver crescent moon sheltering a single silver star.

Ambriel had once shown Lynaelle some of the various items he kept stored here, mostly old books written by some of the most powerful sages and wizards of Silvery- moon. There were a few other things there, too, pieces of memorabilia from his younger days such as the scrap of canvas. It was the flag of Silverymoon, and when pressed on its origins Ambriel claimed it had been given to him by Alustriel Silverhand herself a number of years ago. Whenever Lynaelle asked him why, he refused to say. She liked to imagine that it must have been to honor him for some great deed.

The elderly man firmly shut the lid and softly recited a few new words, then turned to face the girl. “I know I’ve told you this over and over, but-”

“‘Promise me you won’t ever try to open this yourself,’” Lynaelle said in unison with her mentor. “I know, I know. And, like always, I promise.”

Ambriel smiled, but it was sort of a sad smile. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you, Lynnie.”

Lynaelle went to Ambriel then and gave him a hug. “Don’t worry I will never open your chest. Besides, I don’t really want any of your smelly old books, anyway.”

Ambriel laughed at this and turned to hang up his cloak. “Get out of here, you insolent child. Go have fun with Daleon.”

Lynaelle hesitated, wanting to make certain Ambriel was settled in for the night. “Are you sure? Do you want me to brew you some tea?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Go and let an old man rest. I’m going to read for a bit. You can make up for it tomorrow.”

Lynaelle nodded then, and turned to go. “See you in the pulled the hood up on her cloak and headed out the door. She saw Ambriel wave absently to her, already flipping morning,” she called over her shoulder as she once again open a musty tome that had been resting on the table by his bed.

Lynaelle ducked out into the evening, taking a moment to let her keen night vision adjust to the darkness, then trotted home along the path that led through the hamlet. Warm amber light seeped from the windows of the various dwellings, and she could hear soft voices from within as everyone settled in for the evening. She made her way through the center of the hamlet and on to her own small cottage. It was really little more than a hut, one small room nestled at the base of one of the great pines, but it was off by itself, as Ambriel’s had been, and it was more than enough to suit her needs.

When she arrived, Lynaelle could see Daleon perched on her doorstep, a lit lantern by his side. She waved to him before she realized he probably could not see her in the evening gloom. She made a point of snapping a few twigs as she approached so as not to startle him.

“Hi,” he said uncertainly, peering in her direction.

“Hi, yourself. I tried to hurry,” she lied, looking the young man up and down from the darkness for a moment before stepping fully into the light of his lantern. She realized that she truly liked what she saw. She opened the door and moved inside as he jumped up and stepped to one side. “I thought you were going to bring me some wood for a fire tonight,” she flirted.

“Oh,” he said a bit sheepishly. “I added an armload to your woodpile, but it was too dark to drive my wagon over tonight. I’ll bring more tomorrow.”