Displaced

Chapter 24

Once there was a country filled with happy people. They lived happily in their lands, where life was peaceful and food was plentiful. But the gods became jealous of their happiness and laid a curse upon the people and their lands. They stole away the sun, covering the sky in gray, and sent the lands into a harsh winter. Crops would not grow and snow covered the ground.

The people despaired. They begged the gods for their forgiveness, but the selfish gods wanted the sun for themselves and themselves only. Then one day, the spirits of the world took pity on the people, and they sent great storms to wash away the gray. The people rejoiced, dancing between the raindrops, each drop having absorbed the gray that shrouded the sky and become a milky white, like ivory tears falling from the-

"HOLD ON A GODDAMNED MINUTE! THAT'S NOT THE STORY YOU TOLD ME!"

Sofie grabbed Pari away from the Basilli and Jaquet as the two mercenaries broke into peals of laughter. She pulled the confused catgirl into a protective embrace and glared daggers at the men as they hooted in amusement. Basilli was even laughing so hard that he'd fallen off his chair, the asshole. "Come on," Sofie told the child, leading her out of the Delons' living room, "let's go talk to people who appreciate us."

Together they headed down the hallway towards the bedroom where they and Arlette slept. Lucas and Liela's house was not the biggest, but it was well-laid-out, making good use of the space it had. It was a tight squeeze, but with the help of some cots they'd been able to fit the five unexpected visitors into two small spare rooms. They found Arlette in their "bedroom" sitting against a wall with a large metal needle, slowly patching holes in her clothing. To say that her ensemble had taken a beating over the last season was putting it lightly. The cloth was riddled with puncture holes and long slashes from the dozens of fights she'd been in since leaving Poniren, but the chance to fix any of it had not presented itself until now.

"What's gotten into you?" Arlette inquired as Sofie stormed in with Pari in tow.

"Your friends think we're nothing but a free source of guffaws," Sofie huffed. "Pari just wanted to know why you're called the Ivory Tears, but they decided to lie to her about it for fun."

"Yeah, that's kind of a thing they do. It's a game for them."

"Why not just tell us the truth? Why do they have to be so mean about it?"

"They don't know the truth."

"They don't?"

"I've never told anybody the reasons behind the name."

"Tell Pari!" urged Pari.

"No." Arlette refocused on the tunic on her lap.

"Come onnnnnn," whined Sofie.

"Nope."

Pari and Sofie pouted, but no amount of pleading or puppy dog eyes would sway the mercenary's hardened heart.

"Oh yeah!" Sofie said, straightening up as a thought came to her. She stuck her head out into the hallway and peered down towards the living room area. She could hear Jaquet and Basilli chatting about something, so they were still where Sofie had left them. Good. She shut the door to their room quietly. "There's something we wanted to tell you about Basilli. We ended up following him by accident, you see, and-"

"Stop right there," Arlette said, her tone harsh and commanding. "I don't want to hear another word."

"Wha... why not?" Sofie asked incredulously.

"One of the cardinal rules of being a mercenary is that you never pry into others' pasts. Period."

"Really?"