Elven Legacy

Chapter 3

The desert city of Hart Delun came alive in the evening, when the sun hid and temperatures cooled. And the aptly named Sun's End was the favorite tavern of the South Side.

Noah sat on a black stool, leaned on the ebony wood counter, with the moon shining through the wide window beside him. He'd just finished a delicious meal of satay and rice, now he nursed his third glass of spiced vanilla-rum, a Nimisian specialty Noah was a little bit too fond of.

I think I may have a drinking problem.

Noah waited a beat, shrugged, and took one more sip of the drink, which made his taste buds dance, then spread cozy warmth down his body. The evening wind breezed in through the window, and he almost felt cold in his thin khaki pants and white linen shirt. Nice change from the heat, though.

He swiveled in his stool and smiled fondly at Fenek, who sat beside him with his boyish gaze riveted to the stage on the far side of the room. Hannia had just climbed on there with her mandolin, and she took place on the low wooden stool to play, brushing her long black braids behind her shoulder. First, though, she cleared her throat, and across the modest room, chatter and laughter died down so they could listen to her.

"This is for the Wraiths," she said simply, "who saved me and Tayela today. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for them." She smiled at Fenek across the room, and Noah saw his young friend grinning back even though he had no idea what she'd just said. Maybe he'd guessed it – he was surprisingly good at that sometimes.

The city folk raised their ceramic cups and cheered in agreement, before going silent again to listen as she started to play. Soon, Noah recognized the entrancing fast pace of Siren of the Dunes. One of his favorite Nimisian songs.

"What did she say?" Fenek turned to ask him, Noah watching his hands move.

"She said you're the hottest guy in Hart Delun and she wants to have your babies," Noah answered, hoping he'd gotten all the signs right.

Fenek burst out laughing, making a few heads turn. His laugh was a bit weird, most likely because he could never hear himself. But Noah loved making him laugh and he couldn't care less what other people thought of that.

"She did not say that," Fen told him. Noah chuckled, then gave him the proper translation for Hannia's little homage. Fen nodded, as if he'd known indeed.

Eventually, when Hannia was further into the song, conversations started again. Ferian, the owner's thirty-year-old daughter who lived upstairs, made her round waiting tables and taking people's orders.

Noah leaned back with his elbows on the counter behind him, drink in hand, enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair and the sound of Hannia's music, drifting over the din of pleasant conversations. He loved it here.

Then again, maybe the rum helped.

Once, he'd asked Fenek if he minded not being able to hear Hannia play. Fen had replied that he couldn't miss what he didn't know, and besides, he enjoyed watching her play. Said he found her beautiful when she was focused. Her slim-fingered hands graceful as they plucked the strings.

It turned out that the girls hadn't been raped, thankfully. Thank Rarima, as Nimisians might say. Apparently, from what Hannia and Tayela had gathered, the tribesmen had wanted to try and sell the girls – assuming they were virgins and would fetch a nice price in the west. But one man didn't agree and wanted to have a bit of fun with the girls in spite of what his tribe leaders instructed. That was the man Altad had strangled; they'd gotten there just in time.

In the end, the tribe let them go without throwing any more stones. The old woman said something to Seyar in an angry, thickly rasped voice like she'd smoked her entire life. Later, as they walked back toward the Drisia River, Noah asked Seyar what the Eonak woman had said. Making sure neither Hannia nor Tayela were close by, Seyar answered, 'She said, "Take your whores and go."'