The TwiceBorn

We Were Darkness But You Were Hope

"We would like to draw a veil over all that blood and terror that have brought us to this place. It is our faintness of heart that would close our eyes to all of that, but in so doing it makes of it our destiny."--Cormac McCarthy

Finn stopped eating as he stared at Islinn.

"Well now..." He breathed. Gre watched as Finn glanced quickly around the room, gauging the reaction of his patrons to Islinn's appearance. Gre didn't need to look. He knew he'd see the same thing on the faces here that he saw back in Behrin's camp. Here though, surrounded by all the dusky Canyon slaves, Islinn stood out even more.

Finn picked up an egg from the trencher and absently placed it in his mouth, his eyes never looking away.

"And so it shall be said that nothing flowered shall go unnoticed, for there is no idle growth, only vines with uses undiscovered." Finn quoted beneath his breath as he leaned in closer.

"Sacred writ, canon 5 of Brede's Conspectus." Islinn automatically replied. Gre saw a quick stunned expression cross her face before she quickly recomposed. Finn glanced at Gre, eyebrows raised.

"A slave that knows the Conspectus by heart?"

Gre shrugged. That was not his story to tell. Westerfox had become intimate to him. He had pondered it on many a night and struggled to find an answer to what he'd seen, an answer to  lay that strange uneasiness in his soul to rest. But he'd come up empty.  He'd thought about it so much,  feeling those slight fingers of something much greater than himself brush his skin so often, it had now become his private lover. Devoted to him and eagerly waiting on his pallet each night when he wasn't drunk enough to pass out. But Westerfox and Islinn's days as a Sentinel did not belong to him. They were hers; perhaps the only thing left she truly owned.

Gre took a deep swallow of his rum and felt the acrid burn all the way down to his chest.Finn leaned back on his stool and gave Islinn a gentle smile.

"Come here, honey. Have a seat."

He patted a tiny space between his kneecap and his enormous paunch. Gre caught Islinn's dubious expression.

"Islinn! Sit!"

Gre cringed as the words left his mouth. The tone was the same one he'd used when he'd gone hunting with his father and Barse, his father's rabbit hound. Barse ranged far and was a good hunter but always had to be called back around.

Call 'em round, Gregorius, call 'em boy!

Gre was well on his way to becoming as drunk as a lord.

Islinn reluctantly sat down on Finn's almost non-existent lap and once again, looked at the floor underneath the table with a fierce longing Gre found difficult to ignore.

"Don't be so harsh, Gre," Finn laughed. "She's just spoiled. If I know Behrin, she's probably his favorite pet."

The hound was replaced with the image of Behrin raging while Islinn cowered on the ground at his feet.Gre gave a terse nod and took another swallow of rum. His chest felt as if it had been scraped raw from the inside out. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Aubery raise his worn cup to his lips and take a sip of ale, all the while watching Finn.

Islinn settled back against Finn's paunch and folded her arms across her chest. Finn smiled benignly at her and reached for the eggs. Ryleen brought more eggs and Islinn's cider, setting the battered tin cup down on the edge of the table and flashing a quick smile at Gre, who grinned back.