The Sword and The Mountain

A Change

The look Zar gave her said he easily saw through her deception.

She met his eyes defying him to dispute her.

He said nothing and looked away.

"We'll be passing through another town today," Worran burst out.

"Timing, Worran!" Zar snapped.

"If it's still there," Lessa added darkly.

Their eyes turned on her.

"What? I'm not allowed to make jokes?" she deadpanned.

"Oh, you have a sense of humor again?"

"Joke all you want. But I have to know that you aren't going to be flying away again if there is trouble."

"I have a sense of humor, you just aren't funny," she said to Worran, then turned to Zar, "I'm not going anywhere."

He only gave her a nod and set about saddling his bay.

"I'm very funny. You just don't get Kathardrean jokes."

Full of pity Lessa shook her head at Worran. "Did your mother tell you that?"

Worran grasped his chest in mock pain, "Lessa! You wound me!"

"Not as bad as your jokes hurt the rest of us," Zar said as he swung his saddle onto his horse.

Lessa laughed out loud at Worran's overreaction to Zar's unexpected contribution, he stumbled back and flailed his arms.

"Now you're just being mean."

"How about this one," Worran was still pouring on the jokes as they approached the next town. It appeared fully intact, thank goodness. Storm had done some high-altitude scouting and it looked fully normal to her.

"A man complained to a friend that he was too thin, despite eating his worth, but unable to become more than a bean pole,"

"Zar, has Worran been complaining that he is too thin to you?"

"Hey now! Don't interrupt. So the friend says, "It's clear why."

In a dry tone, Lessa spoke the words she had learned was the customary Kathardrean response to this framework of joke. "What was clear?"

"You spend one hour taking it in and two ejecting it out!"

Lessa slowly blinked at him.

"Oh come on, that one is good! You get it right, he spends a single hour eating but spends more time-"

"That's enough," Zar, thankfully, cut him off.

This town was bigger than Traverston had been. Lessa idly wondered if it had always been larger, or if it had absorbed some of the people who had been displaced by the Traverston fires. The homes here were mostly built from wood, some of them had masonry foundations. Where stone was present it was reminiscent of the stonework of Bridgetown; intricately decorated yet very functional.

Careful to keep her eyes away from individuals she passed, Lessa studied the people, buildings, and culture around her.

Young children ran and played in packs. It seemed that the entire town's youngest were gathered for all to watch. They were kicking a leather bladder similar to the children she had observed in Bridgetown. Each of the young girls had braids tightly plaited down her head, some of them even had ribbons trailing from the tips of their hair.

That girl probably played like this too... The thought haunted her.

"Don't do that to yourself," Storm gently scolded. Lessa ignored her. Ignored her dark thoughts.