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Description
"Hee," a nearby voice woke Arrats. "Girly, ye should 'ave a care where ye sleep." A grizzled man in tattered clothing sat beside her and set his bindle down. "No need t' fear, though. I be safe enough, t' be sure." His cackle woke Inlé, who was on his feet a foot from the seated pair before the man had even noticed him.

"Well, another sleeper in th' grass!" the man smiled. "No need t' fear, we're just two travelers 'ere. Care t' join us? Two's good f'r a talk, but it takes three f'r conversation."

Arrats was surprised at the ease Inlé showed in waking so quickly. She decided that she would feel better with him beside her, though. "It's all right, Inlé. Come, sit."

"Inlé?" the man's smile was replaced by a shocked look. "Not the Inlé?" He looked at the hooded figure more closely. A tremble of anger crept into the man's already warbly voice as he said, "No. Ye can't be the Inlé. Impossible! Show yer face, fiend!"

Inlé removed his hood. "Do you know me, sir?"

The old man squinted at the boy he saw before him and calmed. "Well, ye certainly look th' part. Do ye remember me, perhaps?"

"I am afraid I do not, sir."

"O' course," the old man said. "O' course ye don't. O' course, that were a long time ago, lad. Ye'd be a'most as old as I. Were ye named f'r yer grandpappy, lad?" Inlé denied with a shake of his head. "Ah, well. I s'pose yer not th' Inlé I knew. Yer dress's a bit off, too, come t' think.

"Ah! but me manners!" Standing to make a sweeping bow, he said, "I am Fernweh: wanderer, tinker, vacilando extraordinaire." He seemed to slide directly from a deep bow into a seated position with his feet straight out in front of him and his bottom where his feet had just been. The fluidity of his motion repulsed his body's aged appearance. His sparkling eyes and ready smile made him appear a boy stuck in the trappings of an old man. Another shrill laugh burst from the man, convincing Arrats, at least, that he was crazy and, more disturbingly, had three or four extra lungs.

"Fernweh, then. I am Inlé, as you know. This is for you." Inlé offered the goddesses' scroll to the old man.

With a whoop, the old man leapt to his feet and grabbed Inlé's wrist instead of the scroll. He pulled the boy into a firm hug which looked like it would have lasted much longer had Inlé not somehow escaped it. Arrats was surprised to see the boy beside her when he had just been a few paces away.

"Oh, it is ye, Inlé!" the old man laughed. "Not in yer usual trappin's, though. An' so young! Yer younger'n last I saw ye! Come, now we talk, there's decades on decades t' catch up on." He spun down onto his seat. "I never should 'ave doubted those cold eyes. None but ye could look so. Come, come! Sit! We must talk."

Inlé sat calmly, but Arrats saw a flicker of ... something cross his eyes. Was it anger? no. Fear? Hardly, she thought. Perhaps confusion in being recognized by this old man out in the middle of nowhere after all those ...

"Did you say decades?" Arrats asked in surprise. "Surely you jest, this boy can't be more than twenty!"

Fernweh laughed. "Can't be more'n twenty?" His grin revealed unnervingly perfect teeth glinting out of the scraggly white hair that covered his sun-weathered face. "Girly, 'e wasn't more 'n twenty when 'e took me up t' wandering. An' that were likely afore ye were imagined up. Three hunnerd years, an' ye've lost time on ye!" he turned his attention back on Inlé. "What 'ave ye been up t'?"

"Sir, ..." Inlé began.

"No sirs 'ere, ye old fiend!" Fernweh interrupted. "Sir's f'r elders an' betters. An' neither t' ye am I!"

"I believe you have me mistaken for another, sir. Only moments ago, you said the same when you saw me. What could have made you so quickly change your mind?" Inlé asked. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he continued, "More importantly, I have here a message of some urgency for you. You should read it." Inlé offered the scroll once more, and this time the old man took it.

"Y' see? This 's me proof! Ye said when ye left that when next we met, ye'd 'ave a scroll from th' goddesses f'r me. Without lookin', I'll tell ye this scroll's that one. Am I wrong?" Inlé did not voice a denial, and the old man went on. "Now, ye were quick t' deny knowin' th' contents o' th' scroll then, so I won't ask ye what it says, but I'm f'r wanting t' know what ye've been up t' these many years."

Inlé was silent for a few moments, then said, "Sir, whomever it was that told you they were I was not, in fact, myself. I have lived but seventeen years, and remember much of it quite thoroughly. I have no history to tell you, as I have not lived through the years you profess."

Fernweh's face fell. He began to mutter to himself, reliving an old conversation. "'But where are ye goin' t' go?' 'I cannot tell ye.' 'And ye cannot take me with ye?' 'No, friend, no. But I promise ye will see me again someday. It'll not be f'r a long, long time, but we will meet again.' ''f it'll be long, 'ow'll I know it's ye?' 'Ye'll know. I'll 'ave another scroll f'r ye.' 'An' 'f I forget ye?' 'Ye won't. But I won't know ye. I apologize.'" Fernweh stopped muttering and looked up in despair. "So ye truly f'rgot me. I'd 'oped ye'd lied t' me, in part or in all. I wish I could tell ye all ye've lost, but it won't stick, I suppose."

He opened his scroll and read. "Well, 'appy news, perhaps. I'm t' follow ye t' th' end o' yer journey again. Though, I suppose this'll be th' first time f'r ye. I'll guess th' girl's with ye also?"

"I am," Arrats said, wondering how long it had been since she'd been called girl.

"Aye, an' ye may be?"

"I am Arrats of Aurora."

"The holy city, then? Well, ye look th' part o' another Arrats I know o', t' be sure."

"Do I?" Arrats asked, amused that this man knew her by reputation.

"Arrats th' Far-reachin'. Ye must 'ave 'eard o' her. Worked th' lands during th' last Holy Winter. 't's said she was part o' bringin' th' Winter t' an end."

"So they say," Arrats agreed. "Did you know she's now the Archcardinal?"

Fernweh fell backwards, laughing. "Oh, th' poor girl!" he crowed. "She works miracles an' coaxes th' gods t' return, an' then gets punished f'r 't! That's a big hat t' 'ave t' deal with!" He pushed himself back up to sit, wiping a tear from one eye and immediately noticed her slightly put-off look. Realizing her for herself, he asked more soberly, "That's ye, ain't it, girly? T' be sure, I didn't mean no insult." His calm voice didn't ask forgiveness, only understanding.

Sad she wasn't able to properly reveal herself grandly, Arrats smiled slightly. "Then I will not be insulted, good vacilando. I just seem to be finding all of the people unimpressed with rank all in one day. It is strangely ... comforting."

"Aye, titles're word-burdens t' make 't easier f'r those what wish t' place blame. Archcardinal an' bishop both're priests, but both're as good as laymen in th' end."

"It's as you say, sir. Please call me Arrats during our time together. That goes for you as well, Inlé. My title is something I wish to be away from during our adventure."

"Adventure, is 't? Well, I know few I'd feel better adventurin' with than Inlé 'r th' Archcardinal o' th' Goddesses o' Magic. I know I shouldn't 'ave t' wait f'r either o' ye t' keep up. An' I won't need t' babysit either! Company without nonsense. Oh, I've missed this!" Fernweh laughed with a clap, then rubbed his palms together.

"And on that note," Inlé began, "We should be off." He stood. "There is a good deal of distance between us and the end of this 'adventure', and I have little time to spare."

"Don't you think you should rest a bit more, Inlé? You only slept for a short time."

"Archcardinal ..."

"Arrats."

"... as you wish. I have rested more than enough. I wish to make it to those mountains and find shelter by nightfall. Shall we continue?"

"The border o' Ashkern, eh? Supposin' I could get us there 'n 'alf a watch?"

"Could you now?" Arrats asked the bouncy old man. "And how would you do that?"

"I've a rest-over in th' hills there. It's me own spot t' rest dry when 't turns sour on th' grasslands. If I'm f'r goin' that way."

"And how long is a watch, exactly?" Inlé said.

Fernweh looked at Inlé as if he were crazy. "'ow long's a watch, ye ask? It's as long's a pair o' guards sits a watch, o' course! Ye forget somethin' that simple?"

"And in a more standardized time?"

Fernweh gave an exasperated grunt and turned to pull out a few items from his pack and began to chant.

Arrats chuckled at the old loner's impatience with communication. "A watch," she explained, "is standardized as something around four hours, I believe. So half a watch is about two hours. Does that help?"

"It does. Two hours to get across that distance is perfect. We should miss the storm completely. Especially as the vacilando seems to have accommodations of a sort available already."

"What storm?" Arrats asked. "The sky's perfectly clear, and the weather is beautiful all the way to the horizon."

Inlé looked at Arrats for a few moments, then said, "Fernweh, how much time until the storm arrives, by your estimate?"

"Less'n 'alf a watch, f'r sure," The old man replied. "Let me be, boy. This's 'arder'n it may look."

Inlé returned to his seat, pulled Beginning Mage from the bag, and began reading. "I would suggest, madam, that you reacquaint yourself with your equipment. You may need their aid soon."

Description
"Hee," a nearby voice woke Arrats. "Girly, ye should 'ave a care where ye sleep." A grizzled man in tattered clothing sat beside her and set his bindle down. "No need t' fear, though. I be safe enough, t' be sure." His cackle woke Inlé, who was on his feet a foot from the seated pair before the man had even noticed him.

"Well, another sleeper in th' grass!" the man smiled. "No need t' fear, we're just two travelers 'ere. Care t' join us? Two's good f'r a talk, but it takes three f'r conversation."

Arrats was surprised at the ease Inlé showed in waking so quickly. She decided that she would feel better with him beside her, though. "It's all right, Inlé. Come, sit."

"Inlé?" the man's smile was replaced by a shocked look. "Not the Inlé?" He looked at the hooded figure more closely. A tremble of anger crept into the man's already warbly voice as he said, "No. Ye can't be the Inlé. Impossible! Show yer face, fiend!"

Inlé removed his hood. "Do you know me, sir?"

The old man squinted at the boy he saw before him and calmed. "Well, ye certainly look th' part. Do ye remember me, perhaps?"

"I am afraid I do not, sir."

"O' course," the old man said. "O' course ye don't. O' course, that were a long time ago, lad. Ye'd be a'most as old as I. Were ye named f'r yer grandpappy, lad?" Inlé denied with a shake of his head. "Ah, well. I s'pose yer not th' Inlé I knew. Yer dress's a bit off, too, come t' think.

"Ah! but me manners!" Standing to make a sweeping bow, he said, "I am Fernweh: wanderer, tinker, vacilando extraordinaire." He seemed to slide directly from a deep bow into a seated position with his feet straight out in front of him and his bottom where his feet had just been. The fluidity of his motion repulsed his body's aged appearance. His sparkling eyes and ready smile made him appear a boy stuck in the trappings of an old man. Another shrill laugh burst from the man, convincing Arrats, at least, that he was crazy and, more disturbingly, had three or four extra lungs.

"Fernweh, then. I am Inlé, as you know. This is for you." Inlé offered the goddesses' scroll to the old man.

With a whoop, the old man leapt to his feet and grabbed Inlé's wrist instead of the scroll. He pulled the boy into a firm hug which looked like it would have lasted much longer had Inlé not somehow escaped it. Arrats was surprised to see the boy beside her when he had just been a few paces away.

"Oh, it is ye, Inlé!" the old man laughed. "Not in yer usual trappin's, though. An' so young! Yer younger'n last I saw ye! Come, now we talk, there's decades on decades t' catch up on." He spun down onto his seat. "I never should 'ave doubted those cold eyes. None but ye could look so. Come, come! Sit! We must talk."

Inlé sat calmly, but Arrats saw a flicker of ... something cross his eyes. Was it anger? no. Fear? Hardly, she thought. Perhaps confusion in being recognized by this old man out in the middle of nowhere after all those ...

"Did you say decades?" Arrats asked in surprise. "Surely you jest, this boy can't be more than twenty!"

Fernweh laughed. "Can't be more'n twenty?" His grin revealed unnervingly perfect teeth glinting out of the scraggly white hair that covered his sun-weathered face. "Girly, 'e wasn't more 'n twenty when 'e took me up t' wandering. An' that were likely afore ye were imagined up. Three hunnerd years, an' ye've lost time on ye!" he turned his attention back on Inlé. "What 'ave ye been up t'?"

"Sir, ..." Inlé began.

"No sirs 'ere, ye old fiend!" Fernweh interrupted. "Sir's f'r elders an' betters. An' neither t' ye am I!"

"I believe you have me mistaken for another, sir. Only moments ago, you said the same when you saw me. What could have made you so quickly change your mind?" Inlé asked. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he continued, "More importantly, I have here a message of some urgency for you. You should read it." Inlé offered the scroll once more, and this time the old man took it.

"Y' see? This 's me proof! Ye said when ye left that when next we met, ye'd 'ave a scroll from th' goddesses f'r me. Without lookin', I'll tell ye this scroll's that one. Am I wrong?" Inlé did not voice a denial, and the old man went on. "Now, ye were quick t' deny knowin' th' contents o' th' scroll then, so I won't ask ye what it says, but I'm f'r wanting t' know what ye've been up t' these many years."

Inlé was silent for a few moments, then said, "Sir, whomever it was that told you they were I was not, in fact, myself. I have lived but seventeen years, and remember much of it quite thoroughly. I have no history to tell you, as I have not lived through the years you profess."

Fernweh's face fell. He began to mutter to himself, reliving an old conversation. "'But where are ye goin' t' go?' 'I cannot tell ye.' 'And ye cannot take me with ye?' 'No, friend, no. But I promise ye will see me again someday. It'll not be f'r a long, long time, but we will meet again.' ''f it'll be long, 'ow'll I know it's ye?' 'Ye'll know. I'll 'ave another scroll f'r ye.' 'An' 'f I forget ye?' 'Ye won't. But I won't know ye. I apologize.'" Fernweh stopped muttering and looked up in despair. "So ye truly f'rgot me. I'd 'oped ye'd lied t' me, in part or in all. I wish I could tell ye all ye've lost, but it won't stick, I suppose."

He opened his scroll and read. "Well, 'appy news, perhaps. I'm t' follow ye t' th' end o' yer journey again. Though, I suppose this'll be th' first time f'r ye. I'll guess th' girl's with ye also?"

"I am," Arrats said, wondering how long it had been since she'd been called girl.

"Aye, an' ye may be?"

"I am Arrats of Aurora."

"The holy city, then? Well, ye look th' part o' another Arrats I know o', t' be sure."

"Do I?" Arrats asked, amused that this man knew her by reputation.

"Arrats th' Far-reachin'. Ye must 'ave 'eard o' her. Worked th' lands during th' last Holy Winter. 't's said she was part o' bringin' th' Winter t' an end."

"So they say," Arrats agreed. "Did you know she's now the Archcardinal?"

Fernweh fell backwards, laughing. "Oh, th' poor girl!" he crowed. "She works miracles an' coaxes th' gods t' return, an' then gets punished f'r 't! That's a big hat t' 'ave t' deal with!" He pushed himself back up to sit, wiping a tear from one eye and immediately noticed her slightly put-off look. Realizing her for herself, he asked more soberly, "That's ye, ain't it, girly? T' be sure, I didn't mean no insult." His calm voice didn't ask forgiveness, only understanding.

Sad she wasn't able to properly reveal herself grandly, Arrats smiled slightly. "Then I will not be insulted, good vacilando. I just seem to be finding all of the people unimpressed with rank all in one day. It is strangely ... comforting."

"Aye, titles're word-burdens t' make 't easier f'r those what wish t' place blame. Archcardinal an' bishop both're priests, but both're as good as laymen in th' end."

"It's as you say, sir. Please call me Arrats during our time together. That goes for you as well, Inlé. My title is something I wish to be away from during our adventure."

"Adventure, is 't? Well, I know few I'd feel better adventurin' with than Inlé 'r th' Archcardinal o' th' Goddesses o' Magic. I know I shouldn't 'ave t' wait f'r either o' ye t' keep up. An' I won't need t' babysit either! Company without nonsense. Oh, I've missed this!" Fernweh laughed with a clap, then rubbed his palms together.

"And on that note," Inlé began, "We should be off." He stood. "There is a good deal of distance between us and the end of this 'adventure', and I have little time to spare."

"Don't you think you should rest a bit more, Inlé? You only slept for a short time."

"Archcardinal ..."

"Arrats."

"... as you wish. I have rested more than enough. I wish to make it to those mountains and find shelter by nightfall. Shall we continue?"

"The border o' Ashkern, eh? Supposin' I could get us there 'n 'alf a watch?"

"Could you now?" Arrats asked the bouncy old man. "And how would you do that?"

"I've a rest-over in th' hills there. It's me own spot t' rest dry when 't turns sour on th' grasslands. If I'm f'r goin' that way."

"And how long is a watch, exactly?" Inlé said.

Fernweh looked at Inlé as if he were crazy. "'ow long's a watch, ye ask? It's as long's a pair o' guards sits a watch, o' course! Ye forget somethin' that simple?"

"And in a more standardized time?"

Fernweh gave an exasperated grunt and turned to pull out a few items from his pack and began to chant.

Arrats chuckled at the old loner's impatience with communication. "A watch," she explained, "is standardized as something around four hours, I believe. So half a watch is about two hours. Does that help?"

"It does. Two hours to get across that distance is perfect. We should miss the storm completely. Especially as the vacilando seems to have accommodations of a sort available already."

"What storm?" Arrats asked. "The sky's perfectly clear, and the weather is beautiful all the way to the horizon."

Inlé looked at Arrats for a few moments, then said, "Fernweh, how much time until the storm arrives, by your estimate?"

"Less'n 'alf a watch, f'r sure," The old man replied. "Let me be, boy. This's 'arder'n it may look."

Inlé returned to his seat, pulled Beginning Mage from the bag, and began reading. "I would suggest, madam, that you reacquaint yourself with your equipment. You may need their aid soon."