Black Ice: The Rings of Belzantra

Departure

“How are you feeling this morning?”

I stopped shoveling gruel in my mouth, and put my spoon in my bowl. “Fine?”

Gregor grunted. “Good. We’re headed to town today.”

I loaded my spoon and placed it in my mouth, swallowing the slightly-sweetened mush before responding. “To the tailor?”

“And the butcher. And to the farrier, and the baker.”

“Does Liny or Hellion need new shoes?” I thought Gregor’s pony had to be the worst misnomer I had ever come across.

“Not quite. You shall see. But, we do need bread and meat, plus your new clothes are supposed to be ready by this afternoon.” The old man stretched, pressing his hands into his lower back. He yawned, mumbling about a foul night’s sleep.

“Well, let me get my things ready.” I stood, taking my breakfast to the counter, intending to clean the bowl with fresh water.

“Have you accumulated much in the week you’ve been here?”

I paused. I set the bowl on the counter. “Do you have my piece of obsidite?”

“How did you expect me to pay for your wardrobe?”

I gave him a wry smile, and he returned it. “I had forgotten about it, mostly. But I believe there is enough obsidite in the piece to pay for me to travel comfortably to my parents farm, and then settle somewhere.”

Gregor stilled. “Is that all you intend to do?”

The ring warmed on my finger. Or at least I thought it had. The slight heat was the first hint I’d felt --since my arrival in Belzantra, at least-- of the rings innate power. I spun it with my thumb around my middle finger where it fit snugly.

“It is all I have really thought to do,” I admitted, “But I’m not sure I even know how to live on my own anymore. It would be difficult to start anew.” I blushed at the admission I’d been fearing since I realized that I certainly couldn’t stay with this old man forever. I was wasting time; I owed it to my mother to try and live the rest of my years well.

“And what will you do with the ring?” Gregor asked with an odd note of distrust in his voice.

“I’m not sure. Keep it, I suppose. I certainly seem to like it.” And I couldn’t really admit to it yet, but I could come up with no other method of escape from what would have certainly been my death in Reyzeck.

“Never sell it child. You’d never receive its worth.”

I raised an eyebrow. “It is not that much gold,” I mumbled. But I knew to what he referred.

He did not respond to me anymore, simply moved around the small space gathering items. I began to understand, the more packing he did, that we were not returning.

Instead of putting my bowl away, I hurriedly scooped a second portion, and returned to eating with a stoney silence. I ate the now cold meal with an unexpected zeal. I knew I’d need energy and all the food in my belly that I could manage to get.

Gregor handed me a coarse, woolen bag after I had finished washing my bowl in wash water that needed to be emptied, but I knew we’d probably not do it. There was no real reason to, nor to even have washed the bowl, as we’d only bring two, which were already packed away in a bag of kitchen supplies.

I took the wool bag from the old man, and put in it the few articles of clothing I had, and a book Gregor had given me, brimming with stories of sorcerers past, both good and evil. When I turned from the small dresser where I had kept them, Gregor handed me another smaller bag, more like a pouch than a bag.

“That’s your obsidite. I’ve broken it into spendable pieces.”

I felt a great shock. “You broke it? How? That takes machines and things that you don’t—“

“Stop worrying your mind, girl. The point it, we are ready to leave.”

I sighed, hefted my bag on my shoulder, and followed him out the door towards our ponies. I’d never actually left anywhere before of my own volition. I found it was harder than leaving by force. I’d miss this little house.

“What about Belman and Danthor?” The cats were no where to be seen.

“Oh don’t worry about them. They’ll find us.”