Among the Graves

[Lazarus]

Mako's eyes light up like stars when he heard the word 'Tea', it was almost as if he was some giddy little child.

"Oh please generous host."

Calming down he set his bag down carefully and reached around. Finding what he desired he pulled out an old wooden instrument, that had four worn out strings on it, faded paint designs, and was chipped in some places. Holding the instrument correctly Mako began to play a soft, nice melody.

"Tea's flavor always tastes better when brewed with a little bit of music and love."

[Derin Edala]

"Tea?"

"Thank you," Derin smiled. Now that she seemed to have reached a place of relative safety, she wondered how to best open the subject of magic once again. "Uhm..." But no, it could wait. Her time was practically unlimited and she could risk spooking her new host. The woman didn't seem to like speaking about magic very much. When had Derin become so impatient, anyway?

She listened to the man strangle some sort of tangle of noise out of his instrument. She had never understood the point of music, but he seemed to enjoy it so she pretended to as well.

"So," she asked her host, "Um... how long have you lived in Shim?"

[Saruna]

Fresh leaves had been dumped into the pot, Saruna nodding in time to Mako's comment and casual strumming, when the question was asked that made Saruna pause. If it hadn't been for the music she might have retreated, but it had been so long since anyone had played for her pleasure -- much less a guest -- that she tightened on the urge to retreat. Instead, she focused on the kettle and the fire, hanging the kettle just so as she considered her answer. She retrieved a iron-wrought poker and prodded the fire with a single-minded determination. Her silence bordered on the edge of rudeness when she finally found an answer to the woman's question.

"A long time. Most of my life has been spent here. I came from Eyropa to escape persecution of one kind, only to find it in a different form entirely. My parents could not have guessed to find constrictions here thus; I was far too young and foolish to pay any sort of heed, regardless." Her words were quiet, pitched just above the crackling of the fire.

"Where might the both of you hail from?"

[Derin Edala]

When it appeared that the man was not going to answer her hostess' question, Derin shrugged vaguely. "I'm from a farming village to the South, probably not that different to hundreds of others," she said. "But Thar Shaddin is rather more interesting. Am I to understand that all magic is frowned upon here? I'm not a magic-user, myself," she added quickly, "but I am interested in local customs."

[Saruna]

Saruna continued prodding at the fire half-heartedly through the brief silence, which Derin filled when it seemed Mako was content to simply play his music. Unexpectedly, Saruna felt herself relaxing in these strangers' company in spite of herself. Perhaps it was the music. Or, maybe she was more lonely than she thought. But, Derin's casual words soon tightened her shoulders up at hidden and old memories never forgotten.

"It is more than a casual disdain," She began with certain hesitancy, "the people who live here. The government of Marn -- which is really the only place that matters in Thar Shaddin -- has a terrible hatred of anything related to magic. It is, I have heard, related to their religion, if you can call it a religion. It is a nasty business. The idea of justice is to condemn the innocent as guilty should any whisper of magic accuse them. It is quite different from Eyropa and the surrounding vicinities." She spoke slowly, words crisply spoken with perfect enunciation. There was a faint touch of disdain at the corners of her mouth, and a well worn line formed between her brows.

"In fact, recently it has been rumored that a great operation of underground wizards was disrupted and destroyed, and the leader killed as per their custom. I know not what happened to the rest, but even now I am sure there are not a few resting in the cold hospitality of the city's dungeons. No, it is best to not speak of magic in Marn, and better still to never keep anything containing magic within their borders. Even here, it is wise to keep anything related to magic quiet. We are not so arrogant as Marn here, in Shim, but you can never tell when they might consider it their business to interfere."

Saruna subsided into an unhappy quiet, before interjecting a final, quiet: "The tea is almost finished."

[Lazarus]

Mako didn't know how to answer the old woman's question. He had no idea where he was, nothing looked like it was familiar at all. He kept playing listening closely, getting an idea of what the name of local or far away places were called here...where ever here was.

Mako slowed down when he heard that, from what he understood, this world involved magic, and a place called Thar Shaddin and a body of government that sounded like they were afraid of things that could be a threat to it, so they control it.

Mako slowed his playing down to only strumming one note per 2 seconds.

"What is this world? What is it called?"

[Derin Edala]

"Pal Tahrenor. You're in Shim, in the Thar of Shaddin," Derin replied, moments before it occurred to her that she should probably have treated the very question as suspicious and confusing. "Um."

Derin lapsed awkwardly into silence. She had never been entirely at home with politeness or diplomacy, but they were skills that she had needed within the past few years and instinct born of experience was telling her not to press the matter that interested her most. It seemed that their host, at least, wasn't averse to magic, but she clearly didn't want to talk about it. To push the matter would be suspicious.

Well, she knew what she needed for now. Acquiring magical assistance would be that much more difficult if it was so unwelcome, but that was okay. She could wait.

Of course, a stranger in town who asked questions that simply wouldn't make sense from an ordinary traveller...

"Say, sir, what brings you to Shim?"

[Saruna]

"Tea is ready." Saruna interjected quietly, as she prepared the cups with stiff movements. She didn't say anything else, merely placing the tea on a low-slung table that sat between the chairs. It was her husband's work, and she tried her best not to think of him as she placed a wooden spoon in a wooden bowl filled with honey in the middle of the table. He had always enjoyed guests.

She spooned honey into her own cup, and blew on it quietly as she listened to her guests talk.

[Derin Edala]

Derin sipped her own unsweetened tea, ignoring the bitter taste. One again, her eyes scoured the house as unobtrusively as possible, searching for a topic of discussion.

"You have a lovely home," she said finally, her eyes settling on the coffee tabe. She was not experienced in such things, but it looked rather more well-made than anything that had adorned her farmhouse, or most of the farmhouses she had seen since. "Does anybody live here with you, or is it all your handiwork?"

[Saruna]

Saruna froze. She looked down at her hands, at the floor, the fire.

"Not mine." She whispered, and cleared her throat. "My husband crafted wood. He made things, any thing, for a long, long time. But he is gone now. Gone, enough years that grass and weeds have overtaken his grave, like all the other old graves in the graveyard." She sighed, long and quiet, and looked at her tea. "He is buried next to my mother, and the empty spot that should have been where my father was buried."

There was bitterness in her voice, but it was overshadowed by old frustration.

[Derin Edala]

Dammit, what was the appropriate response to that?

"I... I'm sorry."

That sounded right, Derin thought. She sipped some more tea, as an excuse to stop talking.

The graveyard. Of course.

"I've been meaning to visit the graveyard here. Perhaps we could... go and visit your husband? The way you speak of him, he sounds like a wonderful man."

[Saruna]

Saruna was surprised that the mundane sympathy the younger woman had shown contained the power to make her throat constrict with painful loneliness and regret. She didn't clear her throat this time, but the urge to busy her hands was there, and she sipped at the too-hot tea without care for the painful path it trailed down her throat. It lit her belly from within, and gave her a courage borne of need.

"Yes, dear, that would be lovely." And she gave Derin a smile too warm for strangers; the gesture an elderly woman might give her granddaughters. And then, as if realizing her forward manner, she stiffened and stood too quickly. Joints creaked, muscles complained, and she held a hand to her lower back.

"Ah, ah, I forget my days of youth are behind me." It was spoken in a near mutter, as Saruna flushed from her girlish behavior. She was quick to speak before either of her guests could react. "Derin, could you be a dear and still the fire for me? I shall go and clip some flowers from my garden, to present on my husband's grave."

There it was again, the surge of emotion nearly forgotten. She gathered a shawl about her shoulders, and made for the door before anyone could react too much to her mawkish behavior.

[Derin Edala]

Derin stood automatically to do as she was told, surprising herself. It had been some years since she'd let somebody tell her what to do without putting up at least a token battle, and how old was this woman... sixty? Eighty? She'd never been good at predicting ages. There was a time when she would have sneered at such a woman and left, or at least considered assisting to be a sign of weakness betraying how much she needed the woman's cooperation, but her perspectives and attitudes on seniority and power had been.... shifting recently. That was worrying. Very worrying. She had been considering the time available to achieve her objectives to be virtually limitless, her patience infinite, but if this place was changing her so much then even waiting and living had a price. She was becoming soft, out of touch. She couldn't afford that, especially since she had no idea how long her journey would take and how much further it would drag her down.

On the other hand, she had had no trouble at all acquiring help, shelter, and now an excuse to investigate the graveyard she had come to see. Perhaps her luck was changing. Perhaps she'd find everything that she was looking for soon.

It was impossible to know at this stage, but the graveyard might give her a clue.

And her hostess... seemed to like her, although Derin was a terrible judge at such things. Possibly her reactions were common politeness, possibly they indicated something else. Derin could only hope that no reaction was expected of her and interpret as best she could.

She finished closing up the fire and headed for the backyard.

[Saruna]

Saruna had silently chastised herself for her swollen, trembling fingers as she picked and plucked at the flowers she had grown with affection and pride, tempered with the slowly aching loneliness beneath her breast. She'd submerged into memory as she teased forward certain flowers from their comfortable anchor in the ground, silently apologizing for their demise.

She wasn't really a flower person. She'd never much cared for fancy or pretty things, but she had a taste for bright colors; something she simply did not have unless she grew them from the ground. By any groundskeeper's estimations, her garden was a riot of poorly tended flowers hewn helter skelter into the tough soil, without any semblance of beauty or order. Base, plain flowers were kept with the more delicate strains, with absolutely no eye for arrangements.

Yet, the colors were cheerful and vibrant. That was all Saruna cared for.

Derin's soft steps startled Saruna from her reverie, and the fond memories of her husband dried up into reality, and the middle-aged woman blinked back at Derin as though she'd forgotten the other.

"I am ready." She said softly. "Let us collect Mako, and we shall go. It is a good day to visit the graveyard."

Was it ever a good day to visit the graveyard? As if, somehow, the word 'good' could ever be associated with a place dead bodies were stored. Kept close together, that they may yet be accounted for while they rotted. Saruna scolded herself for the unpleasant thought, and as she asked Mako to come, the older man requested a bit of time sitting down and sipping at the tea. Saruna, trusting unto the end, told him where he could draw water and gave him directions to the graveyard should he wish to tail after them.

Saruna nodded at Derin and began to bravely escort the other through the village, past the milling crowds of people doing their daily business, and through battered old pathways past the buildings. The graveyard was kept a discreet distance from the town, and though it was kept with the proper respect as befitted the dead, Saruna could not view it with anything but a predjudiced eye.

"Here." She said in a pale voice, as though the interest had been leeched from it. "He is over here." She led them both to the edge of an old grave, and without ceremony or hesitation cast the flowers against the simple tombstone. She said no more.

[Derin Edala]

Derin felt a slight chill run up her back as she walked among the dead, but she knew that it was only her imagination. She couldn't sense those things any more... but hopefully she could change that. Her bracelet... was it warmer? Or was that just her mind playing tricks again? A change in her body temperature giving the illusion; a symptom of her nervous anticipation maybe?

It wasn't good enough, she couldn't be certain. She needed a magic-senser.

She was jolted out of her reverie when her host suddenly stopped and cast down her flowers. Right, her husband. Of course.

"How did... how did he die?"