Tracer

4: Exiled, Not Dead

"I'm Travis. My pop always said you can judge a man by how he treats kids. I see you're a good man. I got no trouble passing these on. I'm sure they'll be cared for and used well."

Jymke's eyes sparkled with violet pinpoints as Travis knelt in front of him and unwrapped his package. Three sheathed blades lay within. Two were the same length, the other shorter.

"You strike me as a fella who knows how to use a blade. These are authentic Japanese katanas." He drew one of the longer blades and presented it hilt-first to the Tracer. "You can wear 'em at the hip or across your back," he added. "I had the edges finished with Duster-bone. Wouldn't do much good to ya Down There otherwise."

Jymke wrapped his long-nailed fingers around the intricately carved ivory hilt and drew the blade slowly until he held it upright before his eyes.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "I am pleased, and honored, Travis."

He handed the blade back to Travis who sheathed it and handed the rewrapped bundle to Desmon.

Silence fell as Jymke finally turned his attention to Jason. The man shifted in his chair.

"What do you bring?"

Nervously, Jason stood and approached the Tracer with a small, wrapped bundle. Without a word, he unraveled it and displayed a wide Duster-hide belt, studded with polished glass beads. The buckle was carved, bleached bone.

Slowly, Jymke smiled and looked up into anxious brown eyes. "I am pleased."

Jason sighed and nodded, rewrapping the belt and passing it to Desmon. "I um...I want to apologize. For earlier."

Jymke's smile widened. "Ignorance is no crime, lest one sharpens it upon malice with intent to draw blood."

Jason seemed confused but nodded again and went back to his seat.

"Now the Offers are made, we can discuss Passage," Desmon announced.

"Wait!" Kurt called out. "I have something too."

Desmon looked at the earnest little boy. "Children don't have to Offer or pay Passage," he explained indulgently.

"I want to," Kurt insisted. "Can I do it if I want to, Mr. Desmon?"

Jymke folded his hands in his lap, smiling down at Kurt. "What do you bring, young one?"

The boy hurried forward clutching a small box to his chest. He stopped at the Tracer's knees and looked up into his pale, pale face. He opened the box and rested it on his lap.

"The man told me it's a whole Duster hoof," he explained, eyes bright with excitement. "I been collecting this stuff since we got here, but Mama says it might not survive Up Top. So. So, I want you to have them. And I'm Kurt."

The violet sparks reappeared in those dark, dark eyes. Inside the lidded Duster hoof were piles of shed Duster teeth and claws. There were several hanks of hair and tufts of fur tucked around the edges to keep the items from rattling.

He stirred the contents with one long nail, smiling at the waiting boy. "I am well pleased, Kurt."

Kurt grinned as Jymke closed the box.

"You don't blink, do you?" Kurt asked, staring up at the smiling Tracer.

Resting his hands on the box, Jymke slowly shook his head. "No, Tracers do not blink."

"Don't you have eyelids?"

"Yes, we do. We also have a clear cover over our eyes, to keep dust and such out."