The Crescent Hour ✓

Chapter 8. A Wanderer's Dream

The air was lively with laughter and music. Clara brought her knees together and felt the soft fabric of the trousers cling to her legs. Freya, the wife of Eryx, had told her they were not male breeches but trousers specifically designed for females. She reveled in the comfort and the freedom of movement they provided. As opposed to wearing a dress or a skirt, Clara didn’t have to sit in a ladylike manner. A soft giggle erupted from her lips at the thought of that.

She had worn male breeches before, in the secret trainings she had with Timothy. At first, Timothy had resisted when she had suggested that a dress would only be a hindrance but with enough convincing, he had relented. In those short clandestine trainings, Timothy had taught her how to fight and although she could not boast in being an expert, she was capable of throwing a good punch and a strong kick. He had taught her well enough to be able to defend herself.

Glass clinked as mugs were brought together in a toast and the murmuring of voices became more animated. Clara was in the hall where the feast was taking place. She had earlier cleaned herself and changed into fresh clothes. Freya had insisted that she join them in the festivity, if only for a few minutes and she had obliged. She tossed her head upwards and admired the latticework on the domed ceiling. Freya sat by her side. Clara looked at her new friend and smiled. Eryx’s wife was a beautiful Zamari with a delightful character.

“Are you enjoying the feast?” Freya asked.

She nodded and then directed her attention at the table a few feet from theirs where the three men she was familiar with were sitting. Whenever a guild member would pass by their table, Tamer received a pat on the back or a jovial greeting. He was liked by the members and she figured his absence from the guild must have been felt by many. Rai handed him a glass of liquor but Tamer shook his head, refusing to take it. Eryx was conversing with an old man who was also sharing their table.

“You must be a recruit of Amarant, yes?” a human lady sitting from across their table asked her.

“I’m a guest.”

“Where do you come from?”

Clara answered the first name that came into mind. “Veletia.”

Before the lady could inquire more about her, Freya said, “Enough with the questions, Lu. Clara had a long journey and your probbing would only tire her mind.”

The woman frowned but thankfully stopped her questioning. Clara’s attention was drawn back to the men. Rai had somehow convinced Tamer to accept the drink for she saw them sipping from their glasses. It didn’t take long for the effect of liquor to take hold of Tamer and Clara wondered what exactly had been put into the drink. Tamer had risen from his seat and was attempting to stand on the table while Eryx grabbed his hand, pulling him backwards. Rai stood up as well, stepped on the table and encouraged Tamer to do the same. Soon after, the two men were singing in excited tones, much to the entertainment of Rai and to the chagrin of Eryx. A smile crept on her face and a chuckle followed after.

“Tamer doesn’t handle liquor very well,” Freya said, having noticed their spectacle. “He gets quite funny though. Sometimes, it's a refreshing change from his normal demeanour."

“They’re singing but I don’t understand them. What language is that?” Clara asked.

“Ah, that’s Shimian, the mother tongue of the Shima race. Rai taught it to him. Tamer speaks it fluently,” she replied, curling a lock of blond hair around her index finger. “He knows a little bit of Zamaric from Eryx but our language is difficult for a non-native to master.”

As she turned to look at them, Clara noticed Eryx was thwacking the back of their heads and forcing them to sit. “That’s enough, you daft fools! You’re breaking the plates!”