A Questionable Quest

Chapter 25... in which I tell the truth and cross my fingers

Felix, apparently, had taken his leave sometime after the seer delivered him his quest. Neither Van nor I noticed him slip out and, to be quite honest, neither of us looked very long. As it turned out, I think both of us wanted to escape that tower as much as possible.

"What do we do with him," I'd then asked, jabbing my chin at the still-muttering Avvenor. The old wizard had managed to pull himself to his feet, but was still frantically looking for an inch of magic inside him. Thus far, he'd been unsuccessful.

Van had waved his hand. "Leave him," he'd said. "He can't do much harm anymore."

And so, within twenty minutes, we'd gathered up my stolen supplies, and I'd released Dero from his chains. The dragon cooed comfortingly against my chest when I huddled him close to me. Van watched us, but looked away as soon as I met his eye.

That sharp web of pain shot through my chest again. I closed my eyes against it.

It was like I blinked, and we were moving through the forest, towards the nearest town. Van mentioned that it would be easier to find a horse there, and we could ride the distance to the capital in only two to three days.

He didn't open his mouth after that. I took the hint, and kept quiet (save for a muttering to Dero every now and then).

Jester, at least, was not at all offended by his new knowledge of my identity. He still nuzzled me happily in welcome, when we emerged from the tower. Every hour or so, he would also huff comfortingly against my shoulder.

Still, Van said nothing.

He stayed stubbornly silent until we reached the village. Then he stayed silent while I paid for the local guard's horse -- a gorgeous mare the color of roasted walnuts. She was suspicious of Jester, and kept sidling away from him when he went to sniff her neck. Still, I couldn't complain. Riding Marissol, after all, was a whole lot more comfortable than walking the hundred and forty-something miles to the royal palace. I'd done it once before, and wasn't exactly keen to do it again.

"We should make camp here," Van spoke, at last. He'd slid from Jester's back while I stared, absentmindedly, into the sunset. Half of me was waiting for him to ask what I was thinking -- like he'd done every other time I'd dozed off during our journey. He didn't.

I was thinking about nothing, of course. But he'd always asked, and some of our most interesting conversations had started with my absentminded musings.

I just nodded wordlessly, and slid down from Marissol. I led her over to the small, bubbling stream a few paces from the clearing, tied her reins to a nearby tree, and let her drink while I removed her tack.

Van did the same for Jester, several feet away.

I was just turning to tell him I'd get a fire started, when he spoke again. "What do I call you?"

I looked at him. His face wore a mask of carefully-constructed impassiveness. Underneath the mask, though, I could tell he'd been wanting to ask that question all day. I took a breath.

"And no lies, this time," he added.

"No lies," I agreed, sincerely. I was done lying to him, that much was certain. "My full name is Ariabelle Tatiana of Harvenmor."

He nodded.

I couldn't help but continuing -- talking was much better than the loaded silence. "But I've always despised it. My name, that is. Ariabelle." Once one truth came out, apparently, the others wanted desperately to follow. "I've been trying to get my family to call me Tati for years, but my mother says it's not proper, and so the only one to call me it is my magic tutor, Master Mordrin, which I think is one of the reasons I've always liked him so much... and... well... that's why I told you to call me Tati."