Like always, Tracou awoke with the sun. He moved to get up from his side, but he found something lying across his shoulder.
In his sleep, Mirthal had moved one arm so it was resting on Tracou. It couldn't have been comfortable, considering their positions. Mirthal was on his back while Tracou was on his side, meaning that Mirthal's hand was higher than his own shoulder. It was likely close to falling asleep.
Grumbling, Tracou tossed Mirthal's arm off of him. Which, of course, had no effect on the elf.
Waking Mirthal was, again, a struggle. He must never get up before lunchtime, at home.
This time, Mirthal was convinced to wake up by Tracou telling him that his retainer would never expect him to leave so early in the day.
Mirthal changed into the drab clothes they had bought him. Once again, Tracou tried to tell him to cut his hair, but Mirthal staunchly refused. What good was being respectful when he was trying not to get caught? If Mirthal was sent back home it wouldn't be Tracou's fault, that was for sure.
When Mirthal was mostly ready, he dug some coins out of his bag and dropped them on Tracou's lap. That was annoying in of itself, since the coins went every which way, rolling down his thighs and generally being a nuisance. But when Tracou had gathered them all, he found that Mirthal had given him five entire coins. He handed three coins back to Mirthal.
"I don't need five of these, Mirthal. You should save them."
Mirthal pouted. "No, take them. I want to give them to you."
"I'll take two, not five. You need them if you're going to be traveling. If you run out of money, you'll be sorry."
"But, Tracou, I never bought you anything to thank you."
"I told you! I don't need anything." Tracou held up two of the coins. "Look, one of these will go to paying me back and the other will go to getting me a present. Okay?"
Deflated, Mirthal nodded.
"Are you ready?" Tracou asked, putting the gold coins into his own bag of money.
"Yeah."
Getting the wagon ready was more of a hassle than it needed to be. Tracou had to show Mirthal how to hitch the horses to the wagon four times before he got it.
"Are you really going to be okay?" Tracou asked.
"Yep. Thanks to you."
Hearing that made Tracou feel pretty good. A small smile appeared on his face. It soon plummeted off of his face when he remembered how ill-prepared Mirthal really was.
"Tracou, before I go... give me your hand."
Again Mirthal wanted to hold his hand. The amount of touching Mirthal initiated was far too high (not that Tracou was keeping count, of course—that would be absurd.) Regardless, Tracou placed his gloved hand on Mirthal's open one. With his other hand, Mirthal took Tracou's glove off.
"What are you doing?"
"Just wait."
Frowning, Tracou stared at their hands. His skin was fair, so he had taken to wearing gloves whenever he went outside. It was easiest to ensure that he didn't lose his gloves if he wore them constantly, so he had steadily started to wear them whenever food or water wasn't involved. But now Mirthal was touching his bare hand.
Like Tracou's, Mirthal's hand was mostly soft. There were a few calluses, probably from archery, but nothing like a farmer's hands. It was larger than Tracou's and somehow warmer, despite him not wearing gloves. When Mirthal sandwiched Tracou's hand between both of his, Tracou grimaced. His palm was getting sweaty and Mirthal was going to notice.
But if he did, he didn't say anything.
Holding Tracou's hand securely, Mirthal closed his eyes. Magic began to flow from him. This was the first time Tracou had encountered elf magic. He watched Mirthal closely, but he couldn't figure out what he was doing. Magic was something he understood, something that was second nature to him, but this elf magic was different. Mirthal wasn't even using something to focus his magic like a wand or a staff.
What was clear, though, was that this magic was pulling something out of him. It wasn't forceful and it didn't hurt, but it put Tracou on edge.
Soon, the magic trickled away and Mirthal opened his eyes again.
"What kind of magic was that?" Tracou asked, stumbling over the words in his haste.
Mirthal didn't say anything, opting instead to let go of Tracou.
There was now a symbol on the back of his right hand. It was light blue and in a sort of diamond shape with curly tendrils. Hesitantly, Tracou touched it. It felt like the rest of his skin to the touch, but it was magic embedded into his skin. How? Mirthal had cut off the flow of magic from his body and yet the magic he had left in Tracou's skin was still active.
"What is this? How did you do it?"
"It's a parting gift. If you were an elf, you'd understand what it was right away," Mirthal said, smirking at him.
"I'm not an elf, so tell me what it is!"
Mirthal chuckled. "Okay. This," he began, tracing the symbol on Tracou with one of his fingers. "Is my mark. It gives you my protection. No elf may harm you as long as you have it. They're also obliged to help you if you ask them, though not magically so. You have the symbol of the prince on you, so... you should be treated similarly. You would even be allowed into the Elven Kingdom, as long as you're bearing my mark."
Looking down at the mark, it seemed significantly less impressive than he had assumed it would be. He was a dezmek who lived in Dezmer, on the opposite side of the continent from the Elven Kingdom. Thusfar he had only ever seen two elves in his entire life. It wasn't likely that he would see another. Still, it was a memento. It was a memento from Mirthal, which he could never lose and would never weigh down a saddlebag.
It was better than anything Mirthal could have bought him.
Mirthal watched him, smiling fondly.
"Not just anyone can have the prince's mark, you know. Any elf would be on their hands and knees thanking me for my generosity right now."
The thought of doing that displeased Tracou, who couldn't help pulling a face. His expression prompted a laugh from Mirthal.
"In maybe ten, fifteen years, I'd like it if you could come to the Elven Kingdom. I think I'll be done traveling by then and you could visit me in my castle."
"Really? In your castle?"
If nothing else, that would be a story to tell. As far as he knew, he might be the first dezmek to enter the Elven Kingdom, let alone the royal castle there.
"Of course. I'll even let you share my bed, if you'd like," Mirthal said, unable to keep his amusement out of his voice.
"I wouldn't do that! But ten years instead. Fifteen years is too long; I'll be almost forty years old then. You might not recognize me..."
Mirthal shook his head. "Don't be silly. How could I forget my little dezmek friend?"
Pressing his lips into a fine line, Tracou huffed. "Maybe I'll forget."
"Nope." Grinning, Mirthal patted the back of Tracou's hand. "You won't. You're trapped. I'm the only one who can take the mark off. Hmm, it's lucky that the blue suits you."
So blue did look good on him.
Filing away that crucial information for later, Tracou took his glove from Mirthal and put it back on. That was Mirthal's cue to pull away from Tracou.
"I should go. Don't forget to visit me, okay, Tracou? Ten years!"
"Ten years," he repeated.
They both hesitated. Then, before Tracou could react, Mirthal approached Tracou again and hugged him, picking up off the ground as he did so. Tracou squawked in indignation.
"Put me down!"
"You're as light as I thought you'd be! What do you think of being up so high?"
"I'm going to start kicking you if you don't put me down!"
With a sigh, Mirthal set Tracou down. They locked eyes. Mirthal nodded to Tracou and Tracou nodded back.
Off he went. After getting the horses going, Mirthal sat in the back of the wagon and waved to Tracou. Tracou waved back to him until he couldn't see Mirthal anymore.
That was it. Mirthal was gone.
It was strange, seeing him off. In just a few short days, Tracou had grown used to having the elf trail along after him, but he was alone again. This was probably for the best. Surely ten years would be long enough to quash any uncomfortable feelings. Ten years was a long time for him, but probably nothing for an elf. From what Tracou understood, they could live to be three hundred years old.
With Mirthal gone, Tracou could get back to what he had planned to do. The whole reason why he had left his home was to buy something and bring it back, partially to brag and partially to have something he thought was special. He had spent a decent amount of money on Mirthal, though.
Tracou pulled the Elvish coins out of his pouch and examined them. Unlike Aodehsh or Dezmerian coins, Elvish coins were uniform and smooth. They had a shine to them, too. It almost seemed like a waste to use them as money. He decided he wouldn't.
Unlike the first day of the Gathering of Merchants, there was significantly less excitement around the stalls. This made it easier for Tracou to wander and would also mean that the vendors might be willing to haggle more reasonably. All in all, it was a good thing for Tracou.
He made his rounds meticulously, examining anything the least bit interesting. But nothing caught his eye to the point of buying it. His mind kept drifting to Mirthal. Would he be okay? Winleans were said to be a prickly people and they didn't like dezmek much. Elves weren't dezmek, but they weren't human, either.
And what about the other elf, the actual Pendaer? Maybe he had caught wind of their plan and was after Mirthal already. Mirthal had told him to wait for him near the stage yesterday. Tracou decided he would go and check to see if Pendaer was there because, frankly, his meandering through the market wasn't helping him assuage his Mirthal related anxiety.
The sun had scooted past it zenith by the time Tracou made it to the open area with the stage. The stage was gone now—the play had been a single day event—but Pendaer was there, waiting by the stump. He had been glaring at the ground, tapping his foot, until he heard Tracou's foot steps. They were too far away for their eyes to properly meet, but Pendaer was looking right at him.
Pendaer closed the distance between them so quickly that Tracou only had time to take a few steps back before Pendaer was upon him. Stopping right in front of him, Pendaer gave him an icy look that made Tracou shiver under the summer sun.
It was obvious that Mirthal had left.
Having this elf scowl down at him made it apparent that Tracou hadn't planned this out at all. Pendaer had already been agitated by having to wait and Tracou's appearance had worsened his mood. Unlike before, Mirthal wasn't there to shield him.
Tracou pulled his wand out into the open. Pendaer's eyes locked onto it and his scowl abated some as he reevaluated the situation. Magic was fast, faster than a person could move, so Pendaer acting first didn't ensure victory.
"He's gone, isn't he?" Pendaer snarled.
There was no point in lying, so Tracou nodded.
That was all the information Pendaer needed. As though Tracou no longer existed, Pendaer ran past him, presumably towards the inn. He couldn't simply pick a direction and expect to know where Mirthal was, after all. But the inn would offer him no information. Mirthal had left nothing behind but wheel tracks in the dirt and plenty of people used that road during this time of year. Now Pendaer had to deal with an entire continent's worth of destinations.
When Pendaer found nothing, he might linger at the inn to wait for Tracou and try to squeeze information out of him. That would be exceedingly unpleasant, so Tracou resolved to avoid the inn as long as he could.
Tracou spent the rest of the day at the market. Again, nothing appealed to him enough to buy it. Even if there had been something he wanted to buy, he would have had to bring it back to the inn. Maybe Pendaer would give up if Tracou waited long enough.
But the Gathering of Merchants was drawing to a close. By sundown, most vendors had packed up their goods, leaving Tracou with few options. Humans didn't do much at night besides drink. Tracou didn't drink much when he was traveling, so he wasn't quite sure where to find a tavern.
He left the market slowly, his head still full of Elvish problems. It was getting dark. Was Mirthal okay? Tracou had only helped him buy materials to make a fire; he didn't know how to make fire using tools so he couldn't have taught Mirthal. Then there was a the food problem. Refusing to eat meat would make things significantly more difficult for Mirthal.
If only he could have gone with him.
"Oh, young man!" a feminine voice called to him as he passed by.
That voice knocked Tracou out of his worrying. If nothing else, maybe Tracou could ask her where a tavern was.
The voice belonged to a plump, middle aged woman. Everything about her seemed astoundingly average. She was sitting behind a makeshift table set up a little ways away from the merchant area, but maybe this was a good spot to catch people leaving. There were some cups on the table as well as a jug. Typically women were involved with making alcohol around these parts. He approached her.
"A dezmek, are you?" she asked, avoiding his eyes.
"Yes," he murmured.
"You're the one that was walking around with that elf, right?"
Startled, Tracou nodded. "You saw us before?"
The woman's lips eased into a smile. "Of course! People have been talking about it, you know. You don't see an elf and a dezmek chatting together every day. Why isn't he with you now?"
"He left."
"Aw, that's a shame. Here, honey, I think you could use a drink." She held a cup out for him to take.
Swallowing dryly, Tracou took the cup. Inside was a red liquid. Wine was going to be more expensive than ale would be.
"Um, but... how much?"
The woman laughed. "Nothing! You look so down that I'm sad just looking at you. Go on, you'll feel better."
How humiliating. According to this woman, Tracou looked distraught enough that strangers were taking pity on him.
He glowered into the cup before taking a sip. It wasn't bad, but there was something about it that seemed a little off.
"When did you make this?"
"Yesterday. It's good, isn't it? I've almost sold through my stock."
If other people had liked it to the point that there was almost none left, then maybe Tracou was imagining the problem. He eyed the drink in his hands before going for it, downing the rest in one go. Wiping his mouth, Tracou set the cup down on the table.
"Would you like another?" the woman cooed.
Passing on free drinks was something Tracou had never had to do before. The wine tasted a little weird, but free was free.
One extra drink turned into two and, well, didn't progress from that because dezmek were known lightweights. He sat down in the dirt and exhaled steadily after that third drink, trying to collect himself.
"Are you all right, honey?" The woman was trying to restrain her laughter, but was failing.
"No," he croaked. He should be feeling nice. Instead, his head was swimming and his body was heavy.
In no time at all, Tracou was struggling to keep his eyes open. He lost that struggle and slumped into the dirt, out cold.