The Dreamer and the Marked

Chapter Three - Part Two

He visited again after leaving the deli. He meandered up to the Citadel's entrance and stepped inside. The old building's cool, earthy air washed over him. His footsteps echoed over the polished floors as he made his way into the library's unnatural quiet.

The library was bigger than all of the rooms in Javis' home combined and doubled. Placing his groceries at a table near the front, Javis wandered into the crowded maze of shelves. He had a specific book in mind, but he took his time and stopped occasionally to take in the scent of old parchment while he browsed.

As he went deeper into the maze, a sweet sound drifting from over the shelves caught his ear. He surprisingly knew the song: a drenen folk melody about two lovers who were turned to stone after their failed efforts to be together. Javis didn't know anyone who knew it outside the clans.

He followed the tune to the back of the library and peeked around a shelf. A drenen woman balanced a stack of books and returned each one to its proper location, humming as she did so. A signature characteristic of the drād, her skin was gray, although hers was lighter than most. The scales dotting her high cheekbones sparkled silvery-blue in the light that shone through the skylights high above them. Her glossy, obsidian hair spilled in a waterfall down her back and in two braids down her front, framing her face.

Javis grinned. "Why, is that Talara I hear?"

Talara startled, her cheeks darkening in color. "Javis! I didn't know there was anyone else here," she whispered. Her voice pitched higher than Javis last remembered; her practice proved effective.

Javis approached and beamed up at her. Although several inches shorter than most drenen women, she still stood taller than Javis by a foot, and at a height just shy of six feet, he was by no means a short man. And this was discounting the pair of curved horns that added three more inches to the top of her head.

"You sound lovely, my dear. I almost didn't recognize you," he said.

Talara rubbed the back of her neck. "You don't mean that."

"Of course I do. Eslu'lir isel'ahn giwen ther," Javis said in the drenen language of Qo'yul. Your voice makes my heart sing.

Talara's face flushed an even darker gray. Javis took her hand to kiss it, but she slid it away and occupied it with the last book in her arms. Javis drew back his own to flounder for his pocket.

"You're always so poetic," she said, averting her amber eyes. They stood out against her black sclerae, and Javis could have stared at them for hours.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought you were back in Talnoq-Vyn."

"I remembered you were coming back this week, so I came to visit. But I didn't think I would see you so soon," Talara said. She turned to put away her last book. "How were the mountains?"

"Beautiful as always. Your mother sends her well-wishes."

Talara's shoulders drooped. "I am sure she does. I'm sure she wants me to go back, too. I won't."

Javis shifted his weight uncomfortably. It seemed Talara's relationship with her mother remained rocky. "I would never ask you to," Javis said, ". . .but I hope you don't mind if I do ask you to lunch this afternoon? We could walk around the city after."

"I have had enough of exploring the city for one trip, and knowing you, you will try to buy me another piece of jewelry I don't need," Talara said. Despite her words, humor played in her voice.

Javis chuckled half-heartedly. It was true, he did still try to buy her gifts whenever they met, but he didn't see anything wrong with that.

"Can I not do things to show you how much I care?" he asked.

Talara gave him a warm smile. She stepped closer and straightened out the folds of his jacket.

"We both know that's not why you do it. If you truly care, start by helping yourself," she said.

Javis looked into her eyes. They only held kindness. "How do you know I'm not?"

"Because I know you. You are stubborn and prideful," Talara said, "and neither of us can change so much in such a short time."

At Javis' raised brow she grinned, adding, "Well, maybe one of us can. I am serious, though. Let go of the past and forgive yourself. You will be a better and happier person for it." She pulled away from Javis, and he longed to follow, but he remained where he was.

"I am trying, Ara. I really am," he said.

But what Talara was asking was much easier said than done. He rubbed his right eye. He had no right to forgive himself, and the only one who could have had been dead for sixteen years.

"Now about that lunch? I just bought groceries, I could fix you something at home," he suggested, ready to move on.

"That would be lovely," Talara agreed.

He held out his arm for her, and she moved to take it when he heard a soft chiming in his pocket. He rummaged for his aspectacaster and held it up. He gasped.

Talara creased her brow. "Who is it?"

Javis held up a hand. He let out a breath of relief. Finally. He looked around and pressed a finger to his lips before answering the chiming device.

Normally, a projection of one's face would appear above the screen, but his contractor liked his anonymity, and Javis liked his own.

He whispered, "There you are. I was beginning to think I would never hear from you again. Do you have it?"

A gruff voice replied, "I have it. Do you have the rest of the money?"

"Of course I do. We made a deal." Javis glanced at Talara. She gave him an inquiring look. Later, he mouthed.

"Good. Where do you want to meet?" the voice asked.

Javis looked around again and lowered his voice further. "Kerevel Tul. There's a pub with a rooster painted on the side in the Lower District. We'll meet there."

The voice grunted in reply.

"You know, this would have been much more beneficial had you contacted me when we agreed," Javis couldn't help but add.

The voice grumbled, "Oh fuck off. I would have if I was able. You're lucky I even have anything for you."

Javis frowned. "What happened?"

"He heard me trying to leave, sent his guard dog after me," the voice said. "And he has a message for you."