Dragon (S)Layers Ch. 61

What they highlighted was furniture made from metal and tightly wound vines that had been carefully built to seem as though they were grown from the mats upon which they stood; sparse but for what they had at hand, it was a pleasant counterpoint to the barren mess her own home had been. There was a special cutout in the wall with its own halo of greenery and a warm crystal in the center of it, the piping for which came in from the ceiling and went into the ground just like the one in the bath area. Add to this a couch, a couple of chairs, a few shelves lined with books and a wash basin? As far as underground living went, this was probably one of the better ways to do it.

At least so far as Leslie knew.

"Hungry?"

"No thanks."

Erril wandered over to the hanging garden and plucked a few herbs from one of the cutouts. It turned out these were the tea leaves. He steeped them in a clay pitcher along with another, smaller, crystal from the garden. When it was done he poured them both a cup, smiling nervously as he took a seat on the ground in front of the couch.

"So, uh. . ." Leslie began, taking up a spot across from him. She wasn't too proud to sit on the floor and it was far better to be polite than self-righteous. "This is your home?"

"It's not much, I know."

"My place was smaller and I didn't have to carve it out of rock, don't think I'm judging you. Just curious, is all."

"Oh." The young man sipped his tea. "They keep the single folks up on the top level because it's easier for them to get out to their jobs. Saves on water, and we get the best food." He nodded to the garden. "See, we're ratters- Cler and I. We catch 'em and they get farmed for their uh. . . .stuff."

"Crap?"

"Crap?"

"You know, shit." Leslie shrugged at his blank look. "So the families live on the lower levels? Is that why the kids were running around?"

"Mhm. It's not perfect, but they're closer to services and things they need-- and closer to the dig site. Always the dig site." He twirled his finger in the air. "If you're single, you're cleaning or ratting until you get married."

"That's not so bad. Where I come from, you'd be digging up fields and doing hard work. Sounds like they've turned that inside out down here."

Erril shrugged. "Everything's a cycle down here; you're born, you work with your parents and eventually when your schooling's done you move up here until you get married. Then your kids do the same."

"So what about the older people? You're not going to tell me they get shuffled out into a tiny box somewhere or something, right?"

"What? Gods, no. That's barbaric." The young man finished his tea and clasped his hands in his lap. "They're usually teaching courses on reading and writing, languages and farming and things like that. When they can't any more, they decide what will come of themselves."

Leslie finally took a sip of her tea, savoring the minty flavor for a moment before she nodded. "So I guess that means- if I wound up staying- I'm going to have to find something I can teach people or I'm going to have to fake it, huh?"

Erril chuckled and shook his head. "You're too young to teach anything. Unless you have kids?"

"Not that I know of." Another sip. He eyed her dubiously. "That was a joke, Erril. I never had kids. . ."

"How old are you?"

Leslie chuffed. "That's pretty blunt, you haven't even asked my name and you're going to ask me that?" She tisked playfully.

"Uh-- right. Uhm. It's customary for people to volunteer their names-- Isira promotes consent in everything. I mean, unless you're hurting someone or something, everything down here is done with the consent of the giver."

"Oh. . . .well I feel like an idiot." Leslie blushed softly, glancing away. "Sorry, I'm still new to all this. Uh- my name is Leslie. Leslie Mosaena." She punctuated her maiden name with a weak smile.

"You have two names?" Erril poured some more tea for them. "That's a high honor! You must come from a pretty proud family."

"Uh, I guess you could say that? My family came from the southern lands- somewhere along the line one of my ancestors became a Spinner- which is a nice way of saying he or she learned how to work Sunless Steel and was accepted into one of the four guilds. Mosaena in this case. Then later they moved up north and became part of the civilized world. . . .forward a few generations and here I am."

Through it all the young man listened intently, vaguely awed and curious with every turn seeming to spark some new question in his mind. When she was finished Erril leaned back looking at her thoughtfully. "Sunless Steel. I've heard of that stuff, I've heard you can make weapons out of it."

"That's right. It's the only thing it's useful for so far as I know. If you make it too big, apparently it shatters or something. I prefer needle and thread, myself."

"Ah! See, you do have something to teach Leslie Mosaena." He gave her a cheeky grin. Then, suddenly more serious, he leaned forward and whispered. "I'd love to attend that class."

Leslie knew better than to take the bait- she still did it as she tipped her cup to her lips. "Think you're just looking for an excuse to be on your knees in front of me."

"And if I was?"

"Tch. Stop, you're too good at this." She chided lightly. Her heart picked up a few extra beats at the idea, the quiet and forbidden little 'what if' that sparked a beautiful image in the back of her head. Gods she was being stupid. . . .but why couldn't she be?

His bright eyes flickered with amusement and for just a moment it looked like he was strongly considering how far he'd have gotten if he tried to kiss her. Maybe it was her hoping. Maybe she needed to grow the hell up, too.

"Besides, weren't we supposed to meet this Revered Father after this?" She jiggled her cup. Growing up was overrated. "Or are you telling me you're that confident in yourself that you think we can do both."

"I've been told that it takes two minutes to change your world view. . . .so make of that what you will."

Leslie snorted. "So what's that going to do for me, hm?"

"I was talking about you." He prodded the air with his cup and downed the rest of his tea, grinning at her with a blush. "Besides, everyone in the lower levels works a full shift- they're half done with it, so it'll be a while anyway."

"Is that right?" Leslie rolled her cup between her hands as she considered his words. "So I guess that means we have a lot of time, but I wonder who's actually promising what to who?"

"Whom." Erril sat back. "Maybe you'd tell me about how you come to revere the Lady?"

"That a nice way of saying 'no promises'?" She smiled a little. "So it's a funny story. I met a kobold." When he gave her an incredulous look she shrugged. "I actually never saw him-- okay, backing up: I was blinded by someone a long time ago, someone I once loved owed money to some people who thought the best way to get it out of him was to blind his wife and slit his throat. . .

"Time went on, I got 'used' to it. I was angry, vengeful and spiteful, but what am I going to do? I'm blind- literally. Eyes? Completely gone." She motioned to her face. "So five years go by in this mess- I was considering suicide at that point. Not often, but it was getting more sincere and more often, but then I meet this kobold and elf at the inn in my village. We get to talking and. . . .things progress. I'm feeling pretty shitty at this point, so hearing someone tell me things might not be so bad with Isira in my life? It was a chance with no obvious downside."

"So you took to it."

"Yeah. Hook line and sinker. And let me be clear, he was a convincing cleric. He and his friend helped me work through some things and I have no doubt in my mind that he meant everything he said. So he leaves and the very next day Isira is at my door. Knocking; literally knocking on my door. She said to me 'I need your help' and I'm ready to write this off as some con." She shook her head. "Anger makes fools of us all, I guess but I thought I was taken for a ride in more ways than one and next thing I know, I'm wrapped up in Her arms crying. But I could see. . . .and never more clearly."

Erill drew in a deep breath. "Wow. You actually met Her? Gods, if the rest of the community knew that they'd never leave you alone." There was a moment where Leslie imagined she'd somehow reduced herself in his eyes to 'that person who met our goddess' but when he set his cup down there was something all together different in those bright black eyes. Warmth. Sympathy. "Did those that hurt you and your husband get away with it?"

"Yeah. They did." Leslie pouted her lips.

"If you could, do you think you'd go after-"

"No," she cut him off sharply. "She taught me something about accepting that I can't undo the past. It hurts, but living is accepting the good and bad that comes with it. Even if I could, if I could just unleash Her fury on them-- so what? That won't change what's been done."

"It might stop it from happening again."

"I know, Erril. But they've had five years and some months to do what they're going to do-- if they're even still alive, I just don't see what good can come of it." When he leaned back she set her cup down. "Look, I'm not a 'perfect' pa-- follower of Her's. I get that. But what good is more killing going to do?"

Erril smiled a touch. "You say you're not a perfect follower, but then you make the case for non-violence. Sounds to me like someone has a problem with congruency: what I mean is that She and Her faithful try to push for non-violence unless there's a chance someone could die in a given moment. Vengeance or 'preemptive' defense isn't something She'd agree with.

"So maybe you're better a follower than you realize."

Leslie smiled faintly. "I had a good teacher."

"A kobold no less. She's a strange goddess, you know?" He chuckled. "But then I suppose that makes Her more likely to take on strange followers. It keeps things interesting!"

"Oh, what the hell." Leslie scooted over beside him, hip to hip and nudged him. "I'd say the word you probably mean is 'novel', but I've only ever met Keiter and now you."

"Mm. . . .suppose that means I should work on making a good impression." And just like that he slid his arm around her waist, glancing at her with an arched brow. He was as strong as she thought he would be, confident and gentle with the kind of firmness she'd come to associate with youth. It was around that moment she knew what she was going to do and how she wanted this to play out; it wasn't weakness, it wasn't and she wasn't going to let it become one.

"You're off to a good start--"

A knock on the door frame cut her off. They both looked to the entry to see a deeply tanned elven woman standing there in bright red and yellow regalia with a silver sash wrapped around her waist. Her angular features were as inscrutable as the shock of braided blonde hair draped down over her chest- as though every hair needed to in a particular configuration or the whole thing would be ruined. It was her eyes, though, it was her eyes that set her entire being off into the realm of the truly extraordinary: the irises of each held pink and bright yellow like two halves of a color swatch. Looking right at Leslie.

She spoke in a cool, calculating tone. "Your summons has been called. The Revered Father will see you now." The way she punctuated 'now' and stood right in the damned door way didn't leave any room for argument. Erril mumbled something about the 'Revered Mother' needing a break from what she was doing.

Leslie knew better than get too excited about trying to turn this woman away but something in her told her there was probably something in the unwritten 'Isira's Guide to Paladinhood' that made passing mention of being deferential to whatever temple one found themselves in. Her libido would have to wait for a bit, it seemed.

"Already?" She murmured as she rose. "Guess we'll uh, put a pin in this. . . .just me?"

"Just you," the elf said simply. "Erril, you're leading prayer tonight."

The young man tisked under his breath but gave the woman a polite. "Yes, Revered Mother."

An elf 'Mother' figure and a human 'Father' figure? Maybe not the weirdest thing she'd seen from the faith so far, but something in it sounded odd to her ears even though she knew damn well Isira didn't play by any conventional rules. Leslie fell in step behind the woman as she prowled through the labyrinthine corridors to the busy work site and beyond to a small chamber.

The inside of it was sparse but for a single bed large enough for two behind a carved stone desk and a pair of chairs made from metal wrapped in vines. Behind the desk sat the child Leslie had seen earlier, his gaze swept her as she entered but when he looked to the elven woman his eyes softened and for just that split second a smile warmed his features, giving him an air of genuine warmth. He could have been any child in any place the world over and not the leader of a hidden cult in a mountain.

"Tea?" He offered as the elven woman took up station behind him, laying her hands on his shoulders with a gentle squeeze.

"Ah, please. . . .I didn't expect you to see me so soon."

"Busy, busy. We're all very busy, but you-" he waggled a finger at her and drew back resting his chin on the back of his hand. His ageless eyes roamed her face as though they might find some wisdom in her naivety. "But you. You intrigue me."

"I'm already being replaced?" The elf said jokingly as she worked his shoulders. "It's been a long time since anyone's 'intrigued' you."

The young man scoffed. "You can't see what I can-- she has a Link. A very powerful one." Abruptly his tone shifted, eyes hardening as he looked to Leslie. This time a stranger. "Why?"

So much for tea. Leslie blanched. "I'm sorry, a Link? Like- to Isira?"

"She does have Her eyes. . ." The elf purred, leaning forward to press her chest against the young man's back.

"Why?" The cleric repeated.

She'd come here looking for answers, she was probably about to get them-- why not be friendly? Leslie clasped her hands atop the book in her lap. "I was blind before I met Isira-"

"Met. Or Found?"

"Uh- face to face; met. Ehm, I was living in a village outside of Sorash and--"

"Why you?"

"I don't know. . ."

The elf glanced at the high priest then Leslie, placing her hands about his neck to work the muscles there. "Forgive my husband, he's. . . .pre-occupied. Maybe you'd tell us about how you came to get Her attention?"

"I- wish I had a story about that. She came to me." Leslie chewed her lower lip briefly. "I had a chance meeting with one of Her clerics and I decided to pray to Her that night-- the next thing I know She's at my front door and we're off to some casino and--"

"Priest. Who?"

"Keiter."

The two looked at Leslie like she had a bucket on her head. In unison they said: "The kobold?"

"You know him?" Leslie felt her cheeks heat up and suddenly every conscious part of her screamed that they somehow knew how he'd 'convinced' her to convert to the faith in the first place.

"He sent a letter- many decades ago looking for patronage, but he's a kobold!" The young man slapped his hand on the desk in irritation. The elf was far more reserved, she wore a secret little smile that suggested she may have actually been deeply amused by the prospect.

"I told you he'd find a way." The elven beauty said softly.

"You did."

Leslie slapped on a placid smile. "So after that, Isira came to me and asked me to work for Her. . . .ahm." How did she even begin to describe the fiasco at the sphinx's casino? "There was a casino, She ehrm- showed me what I needed to know."

"Then why are you here and not preaching?" The elf prodded.

"Would you believe me if I said I had questions about what I should be doing?"

The priest scoffed. "The kobold should have taught you!"

"No, you don't understand. He did the best he could, just like She did-- but there's more to it." She wasn't going to get anywhere trying to beat around the bush. So much for being polite. "I came here looking for Her last paladin."

The elven woman leaned down to murmur in her husband's ear. After a few seconds he leaned back, his boyish features a turbulent mix of emotions. "Why would a cleric care?"

"I'm-- I'm not a cleric, though."

His brow arched.

"Isira asked me to be Her paladin."

With those few words the entire air of the room changed-- any possibility of comradeship and shared faith seemed to dissolve with the tail end of Leslie's own breath. Suddenly she was a stranger to strangers; maybe worse still, she was a heretic.

The boy leaned forward and the elf leaned back.

Together they said: "Go on. . ."