Beyond The Stone

Chapter 8

Tristan didn't quite know how to respond, so instead he sat up straighter and picked out the dirtiest parts of the straw to throw to one side.

'Is... thy home world very different?' Tristan asked contemplatively after a while.

It was Ava's turn to scoff.

'As different as the sun is from the moon,' she told him.

''Tis not so very different from my home,' Tristan mused. 'Barring ogres, it is not so very different at all.'

'I had assumed. You understood... much more than I did right from the beginning,' she admitted. 'What year were you living in?'

''Twas the year of our Lord, 1172,' Tristan told her.

'Wow, you're old!' Ava replied, awestruck.

'I am still in my prime,' Tristan grumbled back defensively, 'A mere 27 years of age. What age might thee be?' he inquired with a falsely sweet tone.

He was pretty sure that question would incense her as it did most women.

'I'm only 24,' Ava replied with a chuckle as she heard his thoughts.

Tristan snorted awkwardly in disbelief.

'Thy be an old bag,' he noted dryly. 'Gads! I have had a withered old hag touching my body and inciting passion in my loins...'

'I wasn't... wait, what? I wasn't trying to turn you on! And women only reach their sexual prime in their thirties,' Ava shot back coolly.

She crossed her arms defensively, a little irritated by his harsh appraisal.

If Tristan had been drinking something, he'd have spat it out with surprise on hearing that little insight.

'Such cannot be true!' he debated in disbelief.

'Believe it, buster. Unlike you, my best is yet to come. Besides, you don't know anything about me. I'm anything but old!' Ava growled back.

Tristan went quiet. Ava let him. She glanced around the little stone cell. It wasn't the nicest placed to be holed up in. It smelt pretty bad, and one or two of the fleas had already found their way inside making her itch annoyingly. She spotted a strange stone block against the wall with a hole in it.

'What's that?' she mused curiously as she strained her neck to get a better look.

''Tis the privy,' Tristan informed her bluntly.

'The what? Ew gross!' Ava exclaimed with mortification.

'Thy should consider thyself fortunate enough to have one. Where I come from a corner of the floor might have done just as well,' Tristan informed her despondently.

That seemed to shut up the extra voice in his head. He smiled to himself vindictively.

More silence passed between them. After a while his irritation gave way to curiosity.

'There are no privies where you come from?' he asked.

'Oh we have very nice privies where I come from,' Ava replied, 'Only we call them toilets. You can sit comfortably on them and, when you're done, you push a lever and the bowl cleans itself out.'

'That... sounds expensive,' Tristan replied, while at the same time contemplating how nice it would be to have a clean toilet bowel each time one visited the garderobe.

'Oh no everyone has them,' Ava replied, 'we don't even think about it most times.'

'Thy home seems... affluent,' Tristan mused thoughtfully.