CRIES OF A MAGE

Chapter 4: A Little Adventure

Upon entering the tent, Paliborn unburdened himself of his pack and surveyed the scene before him. A single, unadorned candlestick cast flickering shadows upon the modest interior, which was punctuated by a gilded globe, intricately illustrated tarot cards, and a smattering of scrolls and weeds that were arranged upon a round table occupying the center of the six-foot radius space. Wooden shelves, affixed to the periphery of the table, supported a plethora of jars filled with an array of liquids and herbs, tomes of knowledge, and a scattering of garments. Amidst this collection of oddities sat a sleek, black cat. Paliborn, nervously, brought his thumb to his mouth and bit it.

"Is that black cat yours?" he asked, struggling to conceal his apprehension.

"No," replied the little girl, "it belongs to my aunt, Belize. Fear not, it is harmless and won't attack. It's not fond of strangers, but it won't do you any harm."

Paliborn and the cat held a mutual disdain for each other. He felt a deep-seated unease in the presence of felines, especially the black ones. As he eyed the cat, he could see its hairs beginning to stand on end, and he heard the tell-tale rumblings emanating from its belly.

"Black cats have never taken kindly to me," he confessed, "and I must admit, I harbor some resentment towards them. For some reason, they seem to view me as their adversary in the environments we share."

"I have noticed," said the little girl, suppressing a giggle. "Beliza, leave us be!" she called out.

With one eye fixed upon Paliborn, the black cat sauntered out of the tent with a regal air.

"Innome dehe pahatre, des una de manstar," muttered trhe halfling.

"Allendra translated, "Stay away from me, be close to demonic beasts."

"Once again, you astound me, Eli. Your command of the language of Ancient Light is remarkable."

"It's all thanks to the Orion temples," replied Allendra. "The Collection of Sayings and Proverbs, volume two, page thirteen. Though I must confess, I cannot recall the specific passage at present."

Paliborn perused the tomes lining the shelves, his pointed ears keenly attuned to the sounds outside. He strained to discern the voices and movements beyond the walls, all while masking his vigilant scrutiny from the little girl at his side.

"Your ears, Pal, are akin to those of the elves," observed Allendra, "though a bit more diminutive. And I wager your feet are not shaggy and large like theirs. You are not like other halflings."

"Indeed," agreed Paliborn. "I am a mix of the best traits, plucked from here and there."

Curious, Allendra inquired about his place of origin. "Where were you born, Pal?"

But the halfling deflected the question, as he so often did. "I cannot recall."

"Then you are not from Half-Town?" pressed Allendra.

"The common misconception is that all halflings hail from Half-Town," replied Paliborn, his eyes glinting with knowledge. "In truth, halflings also abound in the far north and east. There are even fair-skinned halflings who dwell in the Blackened Continent of Ankhyra, beyond the Wastelands, in the Black Desert and the Mist Lands. Though they are not the finest example of our kind, as they possess a sadistic streak and relish ambushes."

Paliborn gestured animatedly, shaping his tale with vivid details. Allendra chuckled at the halfling's antics, but their mirth was cut short by Lena's entrance, her countenance ashen.

"What ails you, that you should laugh?" the witch-woman snapped at the little girl, her voice grating and sharp.

Allendra cowered beneath the folds of her hooded robes, sensing the darkness that emanated from Lena's aura. Paliborn, too, felt the oppressive weight of the witch woman's disrturbing presence, sensing the girl's pessimistic inner world and lack of spirit.