#the problem is that plants tend to gravitate to him in the lands outside of Seelie

[arcxnumvitae]

Navkan Hunt

The cold air only seemed to invigorate him. While he hoped not to run across any of the Seelie, he couldn't deny the excitement of the hunt. Camhlaidh glanced over at Shilo and offered a small, slightly shy smile. "Thank you again for this."

He just had to make sure he didn't do anything to give himself away while disguised.

[rannadylin]

Clan and Court, Chapter 3: Folcsdag

Lots of writing going on here today, including a third chapter of Clan and Court that’s basically as long as the first two chapters put together. Yay subplot! :-) Herein we get to know the Itzli siblings a little better, learn shocking things about Anselm, and actually make some grueling progress on this mystery investigation. Also, I do a lot of research on farming various types of livestock. And poisonous plants in Eora. Whee!

Word count: 4.6K

Rating: G or maybe PG for brief fight scene

Pairing: Watcher Violet/Edér Teylecg...eventually :-)

Read it here or on AO3

Previously: Chapters 1 & 2 here and on AO3

Chapter 3: Folcsdag

They reached Dyrford late the next morning. In the hours on the road, Edér learned that Audie’s sharp eyes missed nothing but that her sharp tongue barely concealed a fierce protectiveness toward all her siblings; that Xipil’s hound was fanatical about rabbit jerky (thanks to Xipil quietly pressing a wad of the meat into Edér’s hand and nodding toward the dog, collaborating in Edér’s thus far fruitless attempts to win Yaotl’s affection); that Yolotli must be some sort of soul twin to Kana Rua, the way she took in every sight on the road with such delight and had apparently never grown out of the question-laden stages of early childhood. She soon gravitated toward Edér, skipping to keep up with his longer steps, her braids bouncing over her shoulders, till he caught on and shortened his stride for her. Far from naive, her questions about the landscape, the flora, the fauna, the peoples of the Dyrwood, their beliefs, their customs, their clothes, their cuisine, and every other topic that crossed her mind revealed a quick intelligence, handily assimilating and comparing his answers with what she already knew of other lands.

Questions about Edér himself came, instead, from Audie. Nor did they come immediately. For the first day, she kept a watchful eye on him but interacted mainly with her siblings. When they broke camp the next morning, though, she soon fell back to walk with Edér at the rear of the party, where he’d been keeping a curious eye on all the orlans.

“You know, big man,” she said, keeping up with his stride without apparent effort even before he remembered to slow down, “I’ve been looking forward to actually meeting you.”

Edér’s stride stuttered mid-step as he processed this. “How’s that?”

“Violet mentioned you in her letters, naturally.” And she looked up at him with a smirk that he couldn’t quite interpret.

“Oh. Guess that...makes sense? All good, I hope.”

“Depends on how you mean that. Me, I was hoping for more embarrassing stories to hold against you, but Vi’s too nice for that.”

“Ha! Wait...more embarrassing stories? Like, more than none or…”

“Don’t worry. Even the embarrassing ones were quite affectionate.”

This left Edér at a loss for words. He scratched at his beard and looked at Audie out of the corner of one eye until she piped up again.

“So you don’t actually live at Caed Nua, then?”

“Nah, not all the time, anyway. Got a room in Brighthollow for when I do stop by, on Night Market business or just to see Vi. Apparently your brother Nico’s family is occupying it right now.”

“Oh, that one.” Audie glanced at him, a shrewd glint in her eye. “So outside of Caed Nua, where do you call home? Vi said you met in a place called Gilded Vale.”

“Haven’t called that home for a while now,” he nodded. “Fact is,” he lowered his voice, “I owe your sister a lot for getting me away from that place. Probably wouldn’t still be around if not for her.”

Audie’s look softened to a smile. “She does tend to have that effect.”

“Right? I mean, I could point out half a dozen people’s lives she basically saved, or at least set on a better course than before, and that’s just the ones she traveled with back when we were fixing Waidwen’s Legacy, not to mention all the random people she helped ‘long the way, or the Eothasian folks we’re looking out for these days, or everyone who looks to Caed Nua for help of any sort.”

“You’re a fan, I see,” Audie grinned.

Edér felt an unaccustomed warmth to his cheeks and looked away. “Yeah...guess so. Proud to call her a friend.”

“Me too,” Audie said, her voice warm even as she jabbed Edér in the side with a friendly elbow of solidarity. He yelped, more from surprise than anything -- it was much the sort of sibling rough-and-tumble he’d once been used to, but that was years ago and he was hardly expecting it from Violet’s sibling. And yet...it was nice. He traded companionable smirks with her as she continued, “So you must live in Dyrford, then?”

“Most of the time,” he said. “Found work on a farm there. Keeps me busy and keeps me in contact with folks who need us. Night Market’s growing fastest in Dyrford of anywhere. I run a lot of messages, though, to Vi or to our folks in Defiance Bay, so don’t know if I’d call Dyrford home. I’m on the road most of the time.”

“Your farm, was it one of the ones that got poisoned?”

Edér nodded. “Then when we heard about the others, Gjegricg -- it’s his farm I work on -- realized it was only happening to Eothasians. He and the others wrote Vi for help, and here I am.”

“Because she’s a priest?”

“Only priest of Eothas left in these parts. And because she’s damn good at sorting out trouble,” Edér grinned.

“That,” Audie said with a toothy smile, “runs in the family.”

The Itzli siblings were open books, however, compared to Anselm Coatl. Edér made sure to always keep an eye on that one, but Anselm seemed determined to keep to himself throughout the first day’s march. He walked towards the front of the group, near Violet but not too near. Though the day was warm, he kept the hood of his cloak up so that Edér, walking at the back of the group where he could watch them all, deduced little from his body language or expressions. He spoke seldom, and mostly in response to Vi’s infrequent questions. He followed her instructions without question or hesitation. Anselm seemed to be on his best behavior, and this only made Edér all the more suspicious. He whiled away the hours, whenever Yolotli or Audie had paused to think of more questions, by imagining malcachoa slipped into Anselm’s tea, lizards slipped into his bedroll, and the like. Until a significant look from Vi made Edér think that she had guessed the nature of his thoughts and would have none of it. So he subsided, doing his best to ignore the interloper.

And then, late the next morning, they reached Dyrford. Vi led the way through the village amidst the stares of townsfolk who first glared at the sight of five orlans, then, recognizing the Watcher of Caed Nua among them, changed their demeanor entirely. They might be unaware how great a role Violet had had in the ending of Waidwen’s Legacy, but they knew how much she had helped in their lesser complaints. A gauntlet of smiles and greetings shepherded them through the town. They stopped off at the Dracogen Inn to quench the thirst of the long road and to observe the locals, as a prelude to a more focused inquiry and investigation. As far as Edér could tell, the mood of the village was no different than usual. The poisonings had affected only a few families thus far, miles out from the village on the outlying farms. In Dyrford Village, life went on as usual. With any luck, Vi would have the problem solved quickly enough that that need not change.

Refreshed, the party continued their march out to the first of the farms. Wilfrith Gjegricg, Edér’s employer, played host every Godandag to a small gathering of Eothasians in his cellars -- or rather, in the catacombs adjoining them. Like so much of Dyrford Village and its outlying lands, the Gjegricg farm was built partly atop and among the ruins of settlers from ages ago, and a warren of underground tunnels and neatly bricked hallways, not unlike those beneath Caed Nua, or more like those once used by the cult of Skaen operating in Dyrford, could be accessed through a hidden door in the farmhouse’s underground pantry. Gjegricg had set up a neat little round chamber not far from his cellar with the altar and candles and all that Eothasian ritual required. When Edér had first introduced him to Violet, bona fide priest of the shattered god, and she had honored him with rites to consecrate his little chapel, Gjegricg had wept for joy and then obliged them to feast till they could barely move on the firstfruits of his farm.

Now, as they approached the farmhouse, they heard the reverberating chunk-and-clatter of an axe splitting logs. The other orlans hung back as Violet and Edér walked up to the gate. At Edér’s holler, the farmer himself emerged from around the side of the house, stripped to the waist and wiping from his brow the sweat of his labor. Gjegricg was a big man, portly but well muscled from years of honest labor. He beamed to see the party approaching. “Ah, Edér! It’s good to see you back, lad. And milady!” He sketched a clumsy bow toward Violet.

“None of that, Wilfrith,” she insisted, flustered.

“Well, it’s always good to see you, Miz Violet,” Gjegricg amended. “Especially in these troubled times.”

“That’s what we’re here about, of course,” Violet continued. “I intend to get to the bottom of these poisonings.”

“Be appreciative if you can, Miz Violet. ‘Twas a lean enough winter already. My family, we’ll manage and with enough to spare for the others as was hardest hit, but it’ll be trouble if this keeps going on.”

“Of course,” Violet said. “Now, I wonder if we might take a look at the pig-sty? I understand it was your pigs targeted first?”

“Just so,” Gjegricg nodded, beckoning them toward the small shelter off in the corner of the yard, with a fenced-in run now quite empty of the animals normally to be found in it. His eyes widened as Violet’s companions caught up to her. “Well, I’ll be...How many o’ ye are there?”

“Here?” Violet asked, deadpan. “Or in general?” At Edér’s chuckle, she shook her head. “Never mind. Wilfrith, these are family and...an acquaintance of mine, from back home in Ixamitl. My sisters, Audrisa and Yolotli; my brother Xipil; and this is Anselm. We thought it best to bring a few people to help in the investigation, and it so happened they recently came to visit me.”

Gjegricg nodded at the orlans. “A friend or kin o’ Miz Violet is a friend o’ mine. Apologies if I, ah, seem rude or anything. Never seen so many orlans at once.”

“You should see Caed Nua,” Violet said, still deadpan, and turned toward the empty pig-sty. A human boy of some twelve or thirteen years was currently coming out of the little pig-house, wearing a scowl and hoisting a bucket of soapy but now filthy water. “Eadric,” Violet favored him with a smile. “Helping your father clean up?”

Eadric grumbled something under his breath. Gjegricg cleared his throat. “Now, son,” he began. “Be gracious. The priest’s here to help get to the bottom of this.”

More audibly this time, Eadric grumbled a “Sorry,” then shuffled past them toward the house.

Gjegricg sighed as he watched the boy go. “I won’t ask ye to excuse him, Miz Violet,” he said. “But Eadric’s just not been the same since this all began. Well, really, since a week or so before. He got into a bit of a scrape, wandering into the ruins with some friends o’ his. Scared him right shitless, and more’s the better for that if it keeps him outta that sort o’ trouble. Thought he’d be over it by now, but then the pigs died and he’s had to help me deal with all that, especially with Edér off to fetch you.”

Edér chuckled. “So I’m missing out on scrubbing out the pig-sty? Courier work has its appeal, for sure.”

Their orlan companions had taken Eadric’s place inside the pig-sty while Violet and Edér spoke with the farmer. Poking her head out and brushing hair from her eyes, Audie frowned at them. “Vi, I hope all this cleaning hasn’t erased evidence we could have used.”

Gjegricg blanched at her words. “Oh, no, I -- do ye think so? Gods, I hadn’t thought o’ that. It’s just, you see, we wanted to bring in new pigs soon as we could, and I didn’t think it’d be safe to keep ‘em in the same pen if’n some trace of the poison was still around. Been scrubbing the sty and replacing the top soil in the run for days now. Rumbald’s sending up a few of his herd tomorrow and we’ve got to have the place ready.”

“Quite understandable,” Violet soothed. “If any evidence has been washed away, I suppose there’s nothing for it now. We’ll see what we can find all the same. You inspected their trough, I’m sure?”

“Aye, and saved what was left o’ their slop.”

“We’ll take a look at that,” Violet nodded. “What about the trough itself?”

“Planned to burn it,” Gjegricg said, brightening, “but hadn’t got around to that yet. Think you’d learn anything from it?”

Violet smiled. “Let’s go and find out.”

While Violet was inspecting the trough -- still filthy with the remains of the pigs’ slop from their fateful last day -- Anselm approached. She glanced up and restrained herself from reacting, managing only a bland smile. But it seemed her once-betrothed was all business at the moment. He ran a finger thoughtfully along the trough’s wooden edges. “Safe to assume this was where the poison was introduced?” he asked.

“Seems likely,” Violet nodded. “There’s an alchemist in the village. We’ll see if she can identify anything poisonous in the leftovers.”

“Excellent,” Anselm nodded, swiping a film of grease from the inside of the trough and holding it to his nose with a critical expression.

“Careful,” Violet said. “Could still retain the poison.”

“I’m not planning to eat it,” he huffed. “I’d say it certainly smells off, but I have a feeling it would do so even without being poisoned.”

Violet laughed despite herself. Seeing the hungry and hopeful look kindled in Anselm’s eyes at her reaction, she reined it in and stepped back from the trough. “Guess the pigs never knew the difference, then.”

Tucking a jar of the suspect slop into a pouch, Violet led the way to the next farm. Bannen Uescwyn raised sheep, or had until recently. While the mysterious poisoner had targeted only the pigs on the Gjegricg farm, leaving behind perfectly healthy cattle as well as the crops, Uescwyn’s entire flock of sheep, all of his livelihood, had been slain. Even his faithful old sheepdog had fallen stone-dead after crawling back to his master with a whine of mortal distress to alert him to the flock lying poisoned in the pasture.

“Folk’re looking after us,” Uescwyn assured Violet when she expressed her sympathies. “Even with the church abandoned all these years, Eothas’ folk take care of our own. Gjegricg’s offered me work till I get back on me own feet, even after he lost his pigs too. I’m appreciative, but I do miss me lambs.”

“Of course,” Violet said. “Any idea how they were poisoned? Do they eat from a common manger, or any such thing?”

“Oh, nay, m’lady,” said Uescwyn. “They graze in the pasture and I water ‘em in the stream.”

So the party marched out to inspect the pasture and the stream. They combed the long grasses for hours without any sign of the poison. Violet was about ready to admit the pointlessness of their search when Xipil’s hound sent up a howl from a far corner of the pasture. Xipil caught up with Yaotl, bent to inspect the ground, and then waved frantically to the rest of the party.

Violet reached her brother two steps before Edér and two steps after Anselm. Xipil shrugged at her as Anselm bent to pick up what Yaotl had found: a handful of small, red berries.

Violet leaned in for a closer look. “Wait,” she said. “These look familiar. Edér? These aren’t native to the Dyrwood, are they?”

Edér crouched down to orlan level to join the inspection. “Mm. Nah, nothing like that grows ‘round here. But -- no, I got it. We’ve seen ‘em before, out in the White March, Vi.”

“Ah!” Violet brightened. “I knew they were familiar. Rin- Ryg-”

“Ryngr berries!” Yolotli corrected her, brightening as she saw an opportunity to put her research to use. “I read about them. They’re very hardy, so I’m not surprised you saw them in the White March. Not necessarily poisonous, but very bitter, and toxic in large quantities.”

“Toxic enough to kill off a whole flock of sheep?” Violet wondered.

“Something was enough,” Anselm pointed out, slipping the berries into his own pouch and frowning as he glanced back in the direction they had come, toward the Gjegricg farm. “Perhaps your alchemist will be able to identify if the pigs’ feed contained traces of these.”

“However many it’d take to kill off sheep,” Edér said, frowning at Anselm’s pouch of murderous berries, “those didn’t grow here naturally. Maybe our culprit’s recently come from the White March.”

Yolotli thought for a moment, then gasped. “I remember now. They’re used in dye -- red dye from the red berries.”

Violet exchanged a look with Edér. “Maybe we’ll have to pay the currier a visit after the alchemist.”

Before any visits to Dyrford Village, however, they had one more farm to investigate. According to the letters, Osgar Heafric had lost half his cattle, including a dozen new calves, to the poison. But as they were marching the last mile from the sheep pastures to Heafric’s farm, Xipil, now walking at the front of the group, suddenly stopped and looked around. The rest of them stopped to watch him. Audie started to speak, but Xipil put a finger to his mouth -- and then a hand to his bow, with a whisper of “Ambush!”

And he was right. No sooner had he put an arrow to his bowstring, while the rest of the party scrambled for their own weapons, than a whoosh familiar to Violet and Edér after months spent traveling with a wizard alerted them to the fireball moments before it impacted. “Take cover!” Vi shouted, and the party scattered towards the edges of the road, but too late: though they evaded the worst of the sudden explosion, every one of them suffered some burns. Then the attackers were upon them. Besides whoever had cast that fireball, two thugs with swords bore down upon them and a hail of arrows flew in from both sides of the road.

Violet kept near the center of her party, quckly calling on the power of her faith to shield her allies from the brunt of the attack and to refresh them after the initial damage. Edér waded into the fray, catching arrows on his shield and keeping the attackers away from the orlans. At least -- most of the orlans. While Yolotli began chanting an invocation and Xipil took aim against a distant archer, Audie slipped into the shadows, only to reappear behind the thug Edér was now dealing with, her knives buried convincingly in the man’s sides. And Anselm drew his heirloom sword and stepped right up beside Edér, timing his strikes to coordinate surprisingly well with their human ally’s. Violet gasped, momentarily pausing in her own battle prayers, to see the eerie purple light that coalesced around Anselm’s blade. After that, however, it came as no surprise when one of the enemy archers suddenly turned his arrows on his own allies, while Anselm grimaced in concentration, until finally the charmed archer was the last of the attackers left standing and one of Audie’s knives finished him off.

They made camp after that. The battle had not lasted all that long, but had left them in need of rest and recovery. Xipil scouted out a clearing within the woods not far from the road, safe from prying eyes at least for a moment. Edér dragged the bodies of their foes out of the road, to be searched and disposed of once the needs of the living were seen to. Violet went around tending to the worst of her companions’ wounds. Besides the burns from that opening fireball, they were in fairly decent shape. Edér was fine, of course; he rarely needed her attentions after a fight, but she made sure he rubbed some salve on the burns nonetheless. Audie and Xipil had some minor scratches and bruises, which they insisted on tending to themselves, pointing her to their sister Yolotli, grazed by an arrow that left a deep gouge in her cheek and one ear. The poor girl seemed much more distraught about the braid it had sliced off in the process, but bore Violet’s ministrations with good cheer all the same.

And then Violet came to Anselm. Remorse for having put off dealing with him till the last struck her at the sight of blood oozing between his fingers as he clasped a hand to his side.

“You’re hurt!” she gasped. “I mean, seriously hurt!”

“A little,” he admitted with a hesitant smile.

“If you’re trying to impress me with heroics, you can stop right now,” she scolded, motioning him to sit down on a nearby rock so she could take a look at the wound.

Anselm gave a rueful laugh, then winced as she started cleaning the wound. “I promise, that was not my intention. That...could have gone better.”

“Could’ve gone much worse, too,” Violet said. “Seems we...we all make a pretty good team.”

“Thank you, Violet,” he said quietly, “for including me on it.”

“Keep getting hurt like this and you’ll stop thanking me,” she said with forced cheer. “Also. That soul whip…”

Anselm blanched. “Ah. You noticed.”

“You charmed an archer, too.”

“It was necessary. He was the one that shot Yolotli.”

“No argument here. It was well done, Anselm. Been a while since I traveled with a cipher, but I know the signs. And I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before. It explains so much. Why didn’t you tell me you were a cipher to begin with?”

Anselm’s gaze fell. “I...had hoped not to let that fact color your judgment of me. Most people are not very trusting of my kind.”

Violet shrugged. “Same goes for Watchers, in these parts. Garivald was right about you making yourself useful on this expedition, though. I owe you an apology.”

Anselm regarded her hopefully. “For…?”

“Gar was so evasive about just what your ‘useful skills’ were, I figured they just weren’t all that useful at all. I suppose he didn’t want this coloring my judgment, either.”

“Just so.” Anselm nodded. “Whatever he thinks of me, he would like to see you back home with the clan in the life your parents planned for you.”

Violet narrowed her eyes as she finished binding his wound. “Garivald is hoping that if I marry you I’ll come back to Ixamitl?”

“In Garivald’s mind,” Anselm said, “one duty leads to another.”

“Are you saying that as a cipher?” Violet grinned. “Or just as someone who knows him well? Because that is exactly how Gar’s mind works.”

Anselm shook his head. “As one who knows him. I would not presume, nor wish, to delve too deeply into your brother’s mind.”

Violet grew still and quiet for a moment, then moved to crouch directly in front of her patient, meeting his gaze directly and catching his hands in a firm grip. “And what about my mind? Do you intend to win me back by bending my soul to your will?”

“No,” Anselm said immediately, fervently, holding her gaze. “I promise you, I will have you by your own will or none at all. Although, while I will not attempt to charm you as a cipher, I certainly hope to charm you as a man.” And for a moment, the subdued, on-his-best-behavior mask gave way to a mad grin that almost reminded her of the Anselm she had once been pleased to be betrothed to. Almost.

“Hm,” Violet huffed, standing and starting toward the bodies in need of searching. “Well, don’t expect much. And stop it with the heroics,” she flung back over her shoulder. “Can’t marry a dead man.”

Finding no hint on the bodies of their motive or employer, they set fire to them and finally moved on toward the farm. The smell of fresh manure soon alerted them to the proximity of their destination. Edér chuckled at the visiting orlans’ expressions. “Welcome to the country, everyone!” he said, arms spread wide.

“Maybe they poisoned them for the smell,” Audie grumbled.

“Counterproductive,” Edér argued. “Corpses would smell even worse.”

Osgar Heafric, a wiry man missing most of his hair and a few teeth, glumly showed them his dairy barn, now nearly empty. A few cows stood ready for milking, though Violet wondered if even the surviving cows’ milk might still be contaminated by the poison. Out in his pastures, another ten or so cows remained, bereft of their calves.

“Lucky so many of the girls survived,” Heafric shrugged. “I’ll get by. Bull’s fine, too, or s’pose I’d have to ask Gjegricg for the loan of his.”

Violet asked the usual questions about the animals’ food and water supplies and left with a sample of the hay the cattle fed on to supplement what they could graze at pasture and another of recently collected milk, in case the poison were indeed still in the cows’ systems. Full of questions, and clues for Hendyna to interpret, the weary party finally made their way back to Dyrford Village and the comforts of Dracogen Inn.

In the middle of the night, Edér woke suddenly to the silence of the room he shared with Anselm and Xipil, the memory of whatever sound had wakened him already fading. The orlans still slept soundly while Edér crept to the door and peeked out into the hall.

Violet was looking back at him from the door of the room she shared with her sisters, wide-eyed and fresh from bed herself, judging by the tousled mess of her hair. Edér grinned at her and whispered, “You hear that too?”

“I heard something,” she whispered back. “Someone was at the door, I think.”

“Think our poisoner came to confess?”

“That’d be nice,” she sighed. With a glance back into the room where her sisters were presumably still as sound asleep as the male orlans, she stepped out into the hall and sat down against the wall between their doors. Edér joined her. They sat in silence for several minutes, watching both ends of the hall for movement, listening for any sound of their supposed intruder. But the night remained still.

“Guess whoever it was heard us get up and chickened out,” Edér whispered.

“Guess so. We’ll catch them in the morning, though.”

“Hey, Vi,” Edér said before she could get up again. “You, ah...you all right?”

“Me?” She looked at him, wrinkling her brow in question.

“Famly’s one thing, on a job like this, but Anselm’s not giving you trouble, is he? If he is, you just say the word…”

“Oh, that,” Vi chuckled quietly. “No, Edér, it’s fine. He’s...being a perfect gentleman. Not as I remember him, but it’s a change I could get used to.” Edér shifted in his seat at that; Vi looked over at him as the implication of her words suddenly hit her. “Not like that! I mean...I’ve made it clear, I hope, that his suit is pointless. But still. It’s nice to see that he’s not quite as vile as I remembered.”

“Think he’s really changed that much?” Edér asked. “Or just showing you what you want to see?”

Vi shrugged. “I think he’ll have plenty of opportunity to prove himself one way or another on this trip. And so far, I’m...pleasantly surprised.”

“Well,” Edér said, reaching over to pat her hand encouragingly, “if that changes, if you have any problems with him, I’ve got your back, Vi.”

“I know, dear,” she smiled up at him. “I know.”