Chapter Nine The Impatient Made Small under Moonlight
Chapter Nine
The Impatient Made Small Under Moonlight
Where Making Friends Is the Best Policy
They were in the Feywild. It sang in the ground under Saeldian’s feet, whispered secrets into their unbound curls, rested gentle and wild on their vision. Not night, not morning; the light was the eternal moment before dusk fell to night or dawn rose to day.
Saeldian had always thought of the Feywild as a forest. In some ways, it was, and an oddly perfect one at that. Soft moss studded with blue-violet flowers, vines curled around tree trunks big as houses. The softly lit air sang as if it were made for nightingales.
Was that tree an oak? Saeldian squinted to get a better look, and it became one as they watched, filling in the details that made it change from a bare trunk into a massive crown of leaves spread as far as they would go—standing away from the other trees, as a ruler should keep their distance from their subjects.
But it hadn’t been an oak until Saeldian wondered if it was. “Did you see that?”
No one answered.
Jubilee turned in a slow circle, as amazed as Verity was at one of Saeldian’s little illusion tricks. Her smile widened, and she let out a cheer and spun until she landed in the soft litter of leaves and moss.
Lorzok turned more slowly, a huge smile also on his face, and said, “Hello.”
The birdsong rose in response, chirps and trills fighting over who would be heard first. A caramel-dappled rabbit poked its head out of a bush, wiggling its nose, a single spiral horn sprouting from its forehead.
Lorzok crouched and bowed his head, listening to the rabbit’s chitters with rapt attention. “Indeed,” he replied. “We’ve only just arrived.”
The rabbit burst into a run, dashing up to Lorzok. After accepting a scratch on its floppy ears, it ran to Jubilee and leapt into the air, twisting to land with its back to her, clearly asking for more pets. Jubilee was mindful of its horn as she petted down its back.
It ran around in circles at Saeldian’s feet, then stopped and perched on its hind feet, head cocked toward Kell.
Kell stared at the oak that Saeldian wondered at, then turned to gaze at everything else, as if he were committing this place to memory.
He stood like he might have to run, or fight to keep his hold on this place, and he looked oddly blank.
Like he didn’t know what to think, or didn’t dare believe it was real.
The rabbit hopped to him and rose up, putting its front feet on Kell’s leg and breaking the spell of his daze. Kell crouched to meet it.
“Hello.”
The unicorn-horned rabbit hopped straight into his lap, stretching to put its paws on Kell’s shoulder.
A hug. Saeldian’s chest ached.
Kell hugged the almiraj like he was afraid to break it. Boosted up, the rabbit laid its chin on Kell’s shoulder, and Kell let go of the tense mistrust.
The ache in Saeldian’s chest went dull. Urchins told stories about how they had been important before they landed on fatherless streets. How they were, actually, secretly special, and someone was looking for them to take them to the childhood where they belonged.
Saeldian had heard a hundred tales like this. But Kell’s memories of a merry world where the magical and the peculiar would help you with chores if you could strike a good bargain were true. Saeldian had heard the grief and loss when Kell reminisced.
He’d yearned to come back here. Here he was, and everything about him was drinking in the moment when he had come home, where he belonged, where the family the urchins swore was out there was really here and ready to love him. It hurt in the place Saeldian’s own yearning for home should have been.
Exhaustion crashed into Saeldian’s senses again. They were here. No turning back. It wasn’t as bad as they feared, but they swayed with fatigue. “Kell, I don’t know how you think you’ll find me a place to sleep, but I really, really need it.”
The moment of Kell’s homecoming snapped. The almiraj hopped off Kell’s lap and returned to Lorzok. Kell had a weary glance for Saeldian’s interruption but untangled from kneeling to stand on his feet.
“Right. We need a place to camp.”
“Can’t we just camp here?” Saeldian was too tired to stop the whine. “I’ve got nothing left.”
“We’re not even sure where we’re going,” Kell said. “Let alone where we are. We’re in the truewild—”
“I’m serious. I need to sleep, Kell. I haven’t needed to sleep in months.”
A warm hand gripped their shoulder. Lorzok stood near, and Saeldian could smell his magic.
Green, growing things, the way the world smelled after the rain or in a clearing of freshly fallen snow inviting anyone who saw it to play.
A little twig disappeared as he conjured up a handful of fruit. “Eat this.”
Lorzok presented Saeldian with a sweet red berry. Saeldian eyed it. “Does your magic always smell like that?”
“Smell like what?”
“Like…how it smells when you open the window and you just have to stop to smell it.”
Lorzok looked pleased. “I’ve never heard it described that way, but it feels right. Do you always smell magic?”
“No,” Saeldian said. “It’s just now, in this place. What is this magic berry? Will it give me a full night’s sleep?”
“No, but it will help you. Take your time.”
Saeldian had never eaten a berry like this. Sweet, but it tingled in their mouth, and things brightened a little. Their limbs felt a little less heavy, and the sense of the smell of his magic sharpened. What would their own magic smell like?
Perfume, probably, and sugary dessert. Beeswax and oil blended with pigment? They’d find out after some rest. It wouldn’t take long for Kell to find a campsite. No one would expect them to go rummaging for firewood. Which was good, because—
“Do you feel better?” Lorzok asked.
“I’m still exhausted.”
“Do you feel happier?” Lorzok pressed. “It is very important that you feel optimistic right now.”
Saeldian accepted the skin of water Lorzok offered. It was warm, but Saeldian’s polite sip became a quaff. They’d been so thirsty that they drank nearly a third of it.
“Sorry.”
“More where that came from. Have another berry.”
Gladly. It had an acidic note, and the flesh was firm but sweet. Saeldian stood up a little straighter. “Why do I need to feel optimistic?”
“The unshaped Feywild—the truewild—can be shaped by expectations and needs. If you need a place to camp, you can find it, but if you expect disaster, you will get it. If you feel happiness, or fear—”
“It’ll become what I want,” Saeldian said. “I think I made that tree an oak tree.”
Lorzok followed Saeldian’s pointing finger. “It is an oak tree. I would know.”
Tired as they were, that was still a cute joke. “I mean I looked at it and wondered if it was, and it changed,” Saeldian said.
“That is exactly what I mean,” Lorzok said. “The unshaped Feywild responds to what you expect. That is why you need to be—”
“Optimistic,” Saeldian said. “I expect we’ll find a nice place to camp.”
“I expected that help would arrive to make sure we do—and help came.”
The unicorn-horned hare sniffed a patch of leafy herbs and munched, its little nose wiggling. Saeldian suppressed the urge to babble nonsense at it.
Kell stopped near Saeldian’s side. “An almiraj is a good sign. We’re in the truewild, but if an almiraj came to chat, then this part is safe.”
He was trying to steady their feelings. There was no truce or forgiveness—no, they were a team who cooperated.
Jubilee had a grin that would coax the twilight into becoming day. “Good morning, Saer Almiraj.”
That butt wiggle served only to make Saeldian smile, which they didn’t disguise.
“He bids you good morning,” Lorzok said. “He says that his name is the Impatient Made Small Under Moonlight.”
“That’s a mouthful,” Jubilee said. “Can we nickname you? Timsum. Tim.”
Saeldian couldn’t help their amusement. “Tim?”
The almiraj brought both his front paws down in a great thump, twice.
“Timtim?” Kell asked.
Timtim flicked his ears and munched on an herb.
“He likes that better,” Lorzok reported.
“Ask him if there’s a settlement nearby,” Kell said.
Timtim’s nose wiggled.
“He says that there hasn’t been for a while. Travelers, though, more than usual.”
“Travelers to greet?” Kell asked, his voice sharp.
“Travelers with a purpose,” Lorzok said. “Not lost like us.”
“Are we lost?” Jubilee said.
“We don’t know where we’re going,” Kell said. “That’s the definition of lost.”
“Then what are we doing here?” Jubilee’s voice rose. “You can get lost in the truewild, only to stumble out and it’s twenty years later!”
Lorzok shook his head. “Have no fear. There’s an excellent spot to camp right under our noses. Pitching our tents will go smoothly.”
“We won’t have to pitch tents,” Kell said. “For ages, the noble orc nomads journeyed across Toril—will you tell them, Lorzok?”
Oh, clever. They had to stay positive, so Lorzok had to respond, but he would be talking to Saeldian and Jubilee, not Kell. “I am called Lorzok the Seeker,” he declaimed, only a little dramatically. It was enough to make Saeldian smile. “Among my band, Seeker is not a common name.”
“It isn’t?” Saeldian asked. “I thought it sounded right for nomads.”
“For me, it is a reflection of my life’s work—to meet the heart of perfect nature, the home and being of Silvanus.
To my clan, it implied dissatisfaction,” Lorzok said.
“Most of my band and my clan know their road, and their road is gold. My clan is wealthy, and they are proud of it. But they trade everywhere, and anywhere, and anything, so long as there’s profit to be made. ”
Jubilee made a hum of understanding. “So you are the Seeker because you didn’t like being a merchant?”
“Being that kind of merchant,” Saeldian said.
“I thought they were doing wrong,” Lorzok said. “And I couldn’t find what I wanted with them. So I left. And in my seeking, I found Kell, and we decided to seek together.”
“The Feywild,” Jubilee said. “But what does that have to do with tents?”