Middle of the Road

[Breda Dreaughan]

She drew a deep breath. "Well, you know. Never had a baby, never had a little sister. I don't know how one is supposed to be with little children. I gather it's mostly sleeping and crying and eating, but still. If something goes wrong, I have no idea what to do. I'm not sure I'll be able to take responsibility of a whole new life."

[Saruna]

Saruna didn't really know. She'd her mother and father to support her through her first child, and Lukol. Her mother had been the most helpful, of course, but they'd all been there. So the fear Breda felt she knew in some measure -- she knew no woman who looked forward to motherhood without even some small amount of trepidation and what if -- but the prospect of being alone, without support, was not one Saruna had ever had to cope with. And while she was unsure of the differences between dwarves and humans, had never been wholly comfortable around people who weren't fully human, truth be told, she still felt a surge of sympathy for the young woman. "Oh, my dear," she whispered, "no wonder you are so unsure. Is there truly no one you may rely upon?"

Even as she said it, Saruna doubted it. When Saruna had been pregnant with her first child her mother had nearly talked her ear off about pregnancy and the raising of children. Any questions she'd had were answered at the drop of a hat, and even then sometimes she got more information then she'd wanted. To Saruna, to have someone you relied upon meant that there was no way one could be so ignorant -- especially when Breda was so far along.

[Breda Dreaughan]

She smiled faintly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to turn it too serious. Like I said, I can rely on my master and his wife, but they don't have children of their own either. There hasn't really been anyone to tell me what's going to happen."

She shrugged again. "I know that it happens very naturally to some people. But I also know that some don't make it. I'm just not very fond of the uncertainty."

[Saruna]

"Don't be sorry, dear, such talk does not bother me." It did, however, give her cause to feel concern for the younger woman. "If you'd like, I can recommend a midwife or two. And if you do not mind listening to me prattle on, I could share my own experiences with you."

Surely that wasn't the budding seeds of hope building beneath her breastbone. Surely not after Derin.

[Breda Dreaughan]

A relieved smile spread on her face. "It would be very kind of you. Both, I mean. Midwives, and sharing your own experiences. If you don't mind."

She winced and shifted awkwardly as the baby moved, hitting a tender spot. "Mind you, I'm not saying I won't be happy once this is over. It'll be nice to have my body all for myself again."

[Saruna]

Saruna smiled, and then chuckled. "I know that feeling, dear," she said, folding her hands into her skirts. She drew closer to Breda and started to talk with the woman, hesitantly building into a conversation that was reassuring for its normalcy and nostalgic familiarity. She listed names, assured Breda that she would introduce her to these women (or their grown apprentices, come to think of it; they would all be old women now) and see to it that Breda had nothing to worry about. Anecdotes were exchanged, Saruna's shyness and tentative nature drawing back to reveal the loneliness underneath, the eagerness to form a real human connection. It helped that Breda was pregnant. Motherhood had been Saruna's defining role in life, the one without she was lost. If she seemed overeager, well, perhaps she could be forgiven the excitement she displayed. She had thought of her children, and just as quickly banished the thought; while her life was explored in abstract, she never crossed the line into the most precious of her memories. Such were they kept behind a thick glass wall, locked and admired from afar, but never handled. Never touched.

Eventually the hours crept by, and even Saruna's desire to stay awake and talk did nothing for her. She dozed where she sat, drawn up close to Breda, until gravity's claim upon her body saw fit to wake her from her half-conscious state. There was some fluttering, some embarrassment, but it was hidden soon enough behind bustling (if slow) efficiency as Saruna sought out mats and blankets for sleep.

Their new home was not cramped, but neither was it spacious. It was one room, though well stocked for comfort. A small closet revealed both bedrolls and blankets, and Saruna spread them out. Breda was bade wait in her chair, with her feet up; Saruna insisted that it made her feel good to be useful for once. It was not a lie, though her knees and back had started up aching again. Those were familiar hurts -- the pain in her hip was gone, and that was a right relief.

Soon enough the lamps were blown out, and a sort of peace descended over them, broken only occasionally by a dog's bark or a distant cry or sound. Such noises did not keep Saruna awake for long. Exhaustion had its uses, and a deep and untroubled sleep was one of them. Even so, she was awake at dawn. Farmer's brat she had become in her time, and something of a farmwife before time had turned her into a self-supporting widow. Even then she'd never been one for idleness, and laying abed in the morning was simply not countenanced. She adjusted to the dark, to the new fuzziness in her head, the sense of something bigger, to the strange new residence she shared with a stranger. Apprehension warred with excitement as she lifted herself slowly from the floor, wanting her bed and the succor it offered to her old bones.

Saruna did not like to dwell on the past, but she sometimes felt such keen regret at the thought of her younger self who could jump from bed in an instant, who could sleep in any position anywhere and never felt a twinge for it. Growing old had so much to do with acceptance, and while Saruna had that, the old wants still found their grip in spades, haunting her mind with all the things that had been, that could have been. She should be happy to be alive, she would chide herself, but some mornings she was simply too tired to appreciate even that.

That morning in May was one of them. It was why she so appreciated the rigorous routine she held herself to, why she could keep herself moving rather than wasting away in bed. She was not a wastrel, she would remind herself. She was a Rischett. Rischetts did not lay abed feeling sorry for themselves, for they had better things to do with their time.

The reminder did not much help. Even beneath the sense of rightness that surrounded her like some warm, comforting fog, she was slow to get the fire going in the woodstove, slow to find the right pot, slow to find the food in the pantry-box. But, even slowly, things were done, and soon enough the small one-room house was smelling of breakfast.

[Breda Dreaughan]

It had been an odd couple of days, to put it mildly. After leaving Marn with Aura, Breda had feared for her life more than once, she had encountered things she did not know existed, and had generally had her world turned upside down. Now, sitting down comfortably and engaged in a friendly conversation, she was, for a moment, able to forget all that, and to tell herself that her life was still normal. The old human radiated a sense of security and familiarity, and her words erased some of Breda's worst fears.

By the time Saruna dozed off, Breda herself was already too drowsy to nudge her awake. Once spread on the floor, the bedrolls looked more inviting than anything she had seen in a long while, and the dwarf was asleep as soon as she was horizontal. For once, she slept without dreams.

The excitement and exercise of the past few days caught up with her as she slept, and she woke up stiff and aching all over. She made a feeble attempt at getting up, thought better of it, and slumped back on the mattress, breathing in the smell of fresh food.

[Saruna]

It was hard not to think of Breda as her own. Saruna watched the young woman sleep as she cooked, unable to help the self-conscious smile that grew with every stolen glance. She had always seen it as her duty to wake before the rest of the household, readying the sustenance in preparation for the day, and this was a pleasant reminder. Eventually, she had a spread to rival that which she had used to make for husband and children. It was rough, simple farmer's fare (though Lukol had not been a farmer, they had still eaten much of the same way their neighbors had, often bartering between themselves), but it was the most satisfying food in the world to Saruna's mind.

She divided it up -- bread, eggs, mashed preserved carrots, and sliced pork belly -- without taking the time to think about why such food had been laid in preparation (and it would have to have been done recently -- the eggs were fresh and the bread had been made from a prepared starter). It was there, she was hungry, and she had a pregnant woman to feed. She was not one to question providence.

"Breda," she said, voice soft, as she approached the bulky form. "Are you hungry, dear?"

[Breda Dreaughan]

"Starving," the dwarf responded with a drowsy smile, and her stomach growled in agreement. She sat up laboriously, and took the offered plate.

For a moment she was too busy with eating to talk, but once she had to stop for breath, she looked at Saruna with a smile on her face. "You are an artist. Thank you."

Once she had finished her plate, the reality sunk in again. "So, they're coming back today, is that what they said? To tell us what they're expecting of us. I doubt it's going to be quite the walk in the park they made it sound."

[Saruna]

Saruna blushed. Artist was not a word often attributed to her, though she was often called an artisan. "You're welcome," she said, voice soft. She watched Breda eat, her own pace much more sedate.

"I think we will be fine. Please, let us bear this burden with honor until we have seen its purpose fulfilled."

There was a strange light in Saruna's eyes, and a fervor quite unlike her in her voice. Still, she smiled reassuringly at Breda, and held out her hand for the plate. "Here, allow me to clean your plate for you."

Her voice and expression returned to normal.

[Breda Dreaughan]

Breda smiled faintly. "Don't worry, I'll behave."

She wasn't going to refuse, not anymore. Uneasy though she was, she had no intention to let what was promised to slip out of her reach. And strangely enough, behind all the fear and doubt, curiosity was budding in her mind again. Something big was brewing, and the two women seemed to have been given the front seats.

You wouldn't say no at Aura's cottage, and you won't say no now. Face it, Dreaughan. You want to know what's going on.

Inevitably, there was a knock on the door. "Seems our handlers are here," the dwarf said dryly. "Can you please help me up?"

[Saruna]

Saruna helped Breda up, calling for the two beings to enter. She didn't stop to wonder how she had felt them, had known that it was them and not some strangers at the door. She was excited, despite herself, the same way she got the morning of a storm. The air was full of dry, electrical promise. Soon she would be privy to events that she wouldn't have been, otherwise, before their carriage ride.

Amber-eyed and Blue-eyed each held small brown-paper-and-twine wrapped packages. Blue-eyed extended its package to Saruna, and Amber-eyed extended its to Breda. Saruna took the package one-handed; it wasn't heavy. "What's this?" She asked.

"You will wear these when you go for the market early in the evening," said Blue-eyed.

"When you wear these, you will no longer be Saruna and Breda. You will be someone else. It does not matter who. But you shall have names prepared."

"You must be on the circular walk in view of the Justice Hall when the sun starts to set."

"You will act as witnesses to the guards who come to collect statements."

"You will have been on your way to buy the end-of-day market food."

"Do you have questions?"

[Breda Dreaughan]

Breda once again had plenty of questions, but she was quite sure many of them would not receive an answer.

'What are we going to witness' would have been question number one. Did these creatures know about a crime that was about to happen? She had given a witness statement once before, years and years ago. Generally guardsmen, let alone battlemages, weren't interested in the views of beggars and whores, but there had been an incident of violent magic use in the Historic District. Breda had not been able to say anything useful. The woman who had been speaking with her had been quite annoyed by that.

But these creatures were supposed to be on the side of the good guys and magic users, weren't they? Maybe someone was going to be wrongly suspected of committing a crime. Or maybe there wasn't going to be a crime at all. What else needed witnesses? Some kind of religious event?

She cleared her throat. "Is there something specific we will tell these guards? Or just whatever we've seen?"

[Saruna]

"You will tell them what you have seen and heard."
"Nothing more."

"Will we be in any danger?" Saruna moved closer to Breda, placing a protective hand on the dwarf's shoulder.

Amber-eyed noticed that hand, looked at it for a moment before looking back up. "Not so long as you stay on the road."
"Do not leave the road," Blue-eyed said, voice firm.

Saruna's hand was trembling the slightest bit where it rested on Breda's shoulder. "What do we do before then?"

"So long as you are on the circular walk and in view of the Justice Hall when the sun starts to set, it matters not."

"Any more questions?"

[Breda Dreaughan]

She looked at Saruna and shrugged. "So we'll hang about and keep our eyes open. Fine."

What if we didn't? What if we blindfolded ourselves?

"I suppose you're not going to tell us why we're doing this?" It was worth the shot, although the amber-eye gave her a deadly glare. "Also what are our names? And what if someone recognises us?"

Oh, and by the way, if whatever is going to happen for some reason involves my Master, I'm going to hurt you.