The Prince's Mark

Chapter Thirteen

"You see, I used to be a merchant. I would come here to trade with the Zeibr. I've been living with this group for, oh, five years now."

"Why did you... um, decide to live here?"

Skender smiled, eyes distant. "I fell in love, of course. She wouldn't come to live with me, so I decided to live with her. But I couldn't marry her until I learned the language. It was really hard!"

This wasn't entirely unheard of in Dezmer. Sometimes a dezmek fell for a human and would leave Dezmer to live with them. Only rarely would a human decide to live in Dezmer with their lover. These sorts of relationships went in and out of fashion in the storytelling scene, with traveling performers acting out classic or new stories. The story of the first snake was always a big hit among dezmek, though.

"I'm sure it was difficult," Tracou said, deeply in unfamiliar territory as far as conversation went.

"Yes. But I did it! I even tried to learn how to hunt like the Zeibr do, but my wife says I do more harm than good so I stay here."

"Why not use your wand?"

"Oh, I can't use that. No dezmek is allowed to approach Zeibr if they have a wand. They detest magic."

Tracou's heart sunk like a stone.

Skender nodded, sympathetic. "I suppose no human likes magic, but it is difficult to see people dislike it so strongly."

There was no way these people were going to help him get his wand back if they wouldn't even let dezmek come up to them if they had one. What was he going to do? He couldn't let Pendaer keep his wand.

Watching him, Skender's smile faltered, sliding down on his face until it had disappeared.

"So, I've told you about me. What about you? What brings you here?"

Tracou sighed heavily. "I was in Shalen, you know, for the Gathering of Merchants. Someone took my wand and forced me to travel with them..."

It sounded so stupid when he said it out loud. Balling his fists on his thighs, Tracou bit the inside of his cheek hard. If he hadn't had that wine, he wouldn't be here. He would be at home. At the very least, he wouldn't have been subjected to wearing a chain around his neck and a smack whenever a blue haired elf felt like he deserved one.

"I see... That sounds terrible."

Tracou nodded. More than any pain, the poor treatment was the worst part about it. He could have held out longer, he would have held out longer, but he had an opportunity to flee and he took it. Unfortunately, it meant that he might never see his wand again.

"You'll be safe here. If there's anything we can do to help you, please tell me."

"I... I want to get my wand back," Tracou said, trying to hold back tears.

Skender frowned, looking away from Tracou. "I'm sorry. I don't think we can help you with that."

Sniffling, Tracou closed his eyes. He had to calm down. Crying now wasn't going to help anyone. Letting a stranger see him cry was unacceptable if he could help it.

But what could these people offer him? He was glad to be out of Pendaer's clutches, of course, but he still didn't have his wand. Returning home without it, where people could gossip about how he had lost something so precious, would be miserable. He needed time to get it back.

"Can you get a message to Dezmer?" Tracou asked at length.

Skender let out a short sigh, relieved by this request. "I can do that."