Volume 4: Dereliction of Duty
Chapter VIII: What Can't be Seen
Tessarie and Keiter followed behind the blind woman closer than strictly necessary as she lead them through the tight coils of the village, worming their way out through a path only visible behind Leslie's closed eyes. Her stick tapped left and right rhythmically and once when she nearly tripped over a rock, Keiter was there to help by placing himself in the arc of one of her swings to ensure she stepped over the obstacle.
Somehow that little gesture made him all the more endearing. Tess recognized what he was doing even if their companion didn't; he was intentionally keeping her from feeling helpless within her capacity and like a good friend, he was stepping in the way. Tess had been wrong about him many times over, but this just put a fine point to it all.
By the time they got to a small one single level house, Keiter had stopped rubbing his side where the stick had hit him and Leslie's stride had changed a little bit- more comfortable in familiar surroundings, she strolled kind of like Sarah did. When she opened the door into the dark home, she looked back, probably expecting Tess to say something. Instead she smiled. It took her a moment to remember Leslie's condition.
"Um, sorry. What can I do for you?"
Leslie shook her head, "just making sure you're still there Copper Tongue."
Keiter clucked his tongue a couple of times. It was something between a chuckle and a sigh on his lips. "She is a beautiful person, just a little awkward! Not her fault, she's been through much. . . .but maybe she finds similar company?"
"Very clever, but I'm not taking the bait." Leslie said lightly as she wandered deeper into the gloom, tapping her stick against odd bits of furniture and pieces of broken pottery- a vase of some kind- with a pile of fine ash splayed out around it. In the middle of the room was a large carpet and a couch that looked as though itd been worn through with age, but a pile of scrap cloth sitting beside it was woven into fine multicolored thatch in the shape of a large sack. It wasn't finished, but it was apparent that it was meant to be a slip for the couch.
"Huh," Tess touched the fabric with a little smile. "This is really nice, your couch is so colorful!" The moment those words left her mouth she felt ashamed. How could she have been so stupid! The woman wouldn't even be able to see the fruits of her labor!
"Thanks." Leslie said absently as she started an oil lamp burning, her movements deft and practiced. In the warm glow of the wick the rest of the room took on a slightly festive glow- rows of preserved flowers lined tiny shelves on the walls and dozens of outfits in various stages of completion occupied long stretches of the front wall. They were practical but very eye catching, experiments in color and understatement seemed to reflect the person who'd made them. One in particular caught Tess's attention.
It was about her size with an embroidered blouse made of deceptively heavy material that opened up the further it went down, slit right down the center at waist level, it held braided strands of something she could have sworn was cotton tied around the waist to keep the whole thing together. Tiny draw strings on the sides would have allowed the rest of it to be rolled up to the side to keep it short, but it was obviously meant to be worn long. Tess found herself staring. Who'd have thunk of such a thing? Why a
human
at that? Hadn't the council always said they were inefficient and rather dim?
"That enough light?"
"More than enough," Keiter said lightly. He touched Tess's knee and jerked his head to the side to indicate where their host had gone to sit. "Thank you."
"Oh, yes!" Tess blushed. "Sorry, thank you for that. Um, may I say you have beautiful taste in dresses?"
Leslie chuckled wryly as she sunk into the couch a bit and set her stick to the side. Her gaze briefly lingered in the direction of the broken vase but after a moment she looked back to the two and smiled. "I used to be a seamstress, figured once upon a time that I'd make it selling cloth to the caravan monkeys. Have you seen- you've seen the stuff they wear, right?"
"Uh- Yes!"
"Come on, Copper Tongue, I invite you into my home for your own good and you're gonna lie to me?" She tisked. There was no anger in her voice, but Tess still felt vaguely ashamed, she had that quality in her voice that made her seem like a mother figure. It was rather comforting, actually. "You two aren't exactly locals, now are you?"
"No," Tess admitted with downcast eyes.
"So? Go on!" The woman patted the cushion next to her. "We've got time to kill- your friend will wait for you at the Inn, why not give me a story." Even as Keiter crawled up on the couch, she continued on, "Consider it the price for my hospitality."
Slowly Tess worked up the courage to take a spot next to her, easing back into the heavy cushion. The seat cushions had a strange feeling about them- a body impression, probably Leslie's. Tess looked around for a bed but realized there wasn't one- the entire home consisted of the main room and simple fireplace and kitchen. How did people live like this? At least the floor was wooden.
Tess fidgeted a bit.
Leslie turned to face the young elf, brows raised and expectant.
It was Keiter who rescued them all from her awkwardness: "My friend's story would take many years to tell, I think. She has seen many things and even among her own kind, she can be expressive when the spirit moves her to do so! Perhaps something more short?"
The woman chuckled, "All right, hit me."
Keiter looked at her oddly.
"Well?"
"I. . . .no? I am awed by your beauty and poise, how could I possibly hit-"
"Oh, come on, boy-o. You know that's not what I meant-" She paused, looking between her guests. "Unless you did?"
"Did it make you smile?"
"Does it look like I'm smiling?" She lofted a brow.
"Better question: does it
feel
like you are? Very important, even if they're usually the same."
Leslie turned her attention to Tess, smirking. "How do you put up with him?"
"In doses."
That earned a hearty laugh. "I bet! Okay, so humor me; lay it on me; tell me a tale, minstrel."
The little kobold paused for a moment to gather himself before he tucked his feet up under him as if to sit cross legged. When he spoke, his voice was calm and flowing but carried a slight hint of loss to it. It was rather jarring how deep his inflections could reach, a soulful tone tumbled from his lips even though he still
looked
alien to Tess. "I believe you would call my friend something of a curse disguised as a blessing. Hiding behind kind eyes and flowered words, very intelligent, but also vindictive and angry with the world."
"Not sure I like this, but go on." Leslie frowned as she listened, shifting her weight to regard him.
"She loved- still does, I think. She had a family once and lost them to a great injustice. One she won't speak of even to me, but she still carries the scars. Like a blanket, yes?"
"Why-"
