In the Valley of a Thousand Footprints

[xiv] Want of Silence

Efa ambled aimlessly through the streets. Her breathing was calm and methodical. The hem of her cloak whispered along with the wind. There was a steady pour of rain. Stray gusts of wind whipped at Efa as she stuck to pavements and back alleys, glancing at the architecture and woodwork on some of the smaller structures. 

Her destination was the large bell tower she had seen upon entry to Thimbl. It had a large cone shaped roof, which sat atop a small circular gallery that seemed attached to the bell chamber at the top. It appeared to be the tallest structure in this part of town. Efa wanted to climb it. Mostly to get a vantage point, but also to reflect a little on the past few weeks. 

The latest chapter in Efa's life had been utterly surreal, and not exactly in a good way. Three short weeks ago, Efa had been delivering letters in Cayrnr and messing around at the orphanage, not a sliver of talk about magic, Magi or murder. It had been a while since she had her mind to herself, constantly worrying about the boys, rations, their destination and her greater journey. She hoped that climbing to the top of the bell tower would help. Being up in the air where humanity doesn't exist gave her a sense of warmth inside. She picked up her pace. 

The winding roads of Thimbl however, proved to be a bit too hard to handle. She ended up at a random tavern after a lot of walking. Accepting that she was lost, Efa entered the tavern and decided to ask for directions. There were three customers and two waiters going about their business. Efa marched up to the bar countertop and signaled to the barkeep.

"Oi lass, what're you wandering in here for?" the barkeep said, approaching Efa, who had removed her hood. 

"I want some water and directions."

The man stared at her in confusion before sighing quietly and bringing a cup of water. He rested his hands on the countertop and asked her, "well, where d'ya want directions for?"

"Directions to the bell tower," said Efa, taking steady sips of water. The sound of stairs creaking was heard.

"Now what the hell d'ya wanna go there for. . .?" the barkeep pondered in bemusement.

"To climb it I'm guessing."

A deep, grizzled voice sounded out behind Efa, startling her. Not a sound was heard of the man's appearance behind her. Her hands flew instinctively to the boot knife but her fingers couldn't close around the handle. A magical force was wedging itself in-between her grip and the hilt. She revolved on the high chair she was on and thrust a hand at the mysterious voice, casting a small fireball at him, causing a the other customers to turn over and stare. 

She had expected to see the man writhe in agony but no such thing happened. Instead, she saw her trusted spell dissipate in front of her eyes like wisps of smoke. The man then raised his own hand as if to strike down on the surprised Efa, who shouted out Cadw'n ddiogel. The arm stopped before it moved. A silence fell. The barkeep peeked over the countertop behind which he was been hiding.

Efa finally got a good look at the man. He was wearing a lengthy black cloak made from prized silks and expensive furs. His face was old and grizzled, with a short beard and luxurious hair. His hand hadn't moved. His mouth was agape. 

"You. Girl. How do you know that spell?" he said in a hurried whisper. 

"W-wha-what do you mean? I-It's just a normal s -" 

"Oh no, no, no, no that isn't just any spell, It isn't even a spell." The man's eyes fixed on a point of nothingness as his thoughts wandered, entranced. "B-but then, that would mean that -no. No, but. . .?"

"Uh. . . ?" Efa was getting more confused by the second. She was startled by some stranger dressed like a king muttering about her shield spell not being a spell. The man's sharp eyes scanned Efa up and down. His mind seemingly reaching for memories long gone.