Conerica Straits

evening

We’re outside a small settlement, but I decided to stay with the camp rather than head into town. I’ve been avoiding the places we visited when I was last here because…I don’t know why. I guess I just don’t want to deal with it.

I was playing my flute casually, just some light and airy pieces that put some music out there without demanding attention. Something people could either listen or just talk over depending on their mood. I’d been doing this for half an hour with a small crowd around me when that group of three surprised me by taking seats at the fire. They had gone into town earlier–the sudden quiet was almost startling–but now they were back.

“How about something we can dance to?” one of the two men asked.

And just like that, I was trapped. I was still raw from two days of trying to keep away from them, but I couldn’t ignore the request without being rude. And I wanted to be rude, surely, but that was on me. They’d not done anything to deserve it. Not really.

Well, fine. I could hide behind my flute (I felt Iskaryn bristle at that thought). I went with an estampie because they have open endings and aren’t too tiring. Just a few sections in, there was clapping and foot-stomping, then someone brought over a wooden crate, and I had a real, if rustic, percussion line. 

The man who requested the change in music was dancing with the woman from their group, and a handful of others had joined in. We had gone from a quiet, relaxing night to a small but lively party in just a few minutes.

I switched us to a carole, and almost immediately a circle formed, everyone interlocking arms. This was more relaxed and a bit easier, but ten minutes in, I brought it to a close because I needed a break. There were hoots and applause as I sat down and took a long drink of water.

“Thanks for that. Most fun we’ve had in over a week,” I heard someone say off to my left. I turned to look in time to see one of the men from that group settling next to me. “Traveling through this country is like an extended wake.”

I didn’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. It caught me off guard.

“I spent three days in Saringallow,” I said, “I’m fairly sure that’s what passes for entertainment there.” 

He chuckled politely in response. “I’m Pates. My friends here are Agelus and Paulana.” They both settled next to him and extended their arms in greeting.

“I’m Aemi.”

This was not what I needed. But. I could feel Iskaryn pushing on me, and I knew why. I needed to get over this…whatever it was. I wasn’t ready to answer questions, though, so I employed the age-old strategy of asking them about themselves first.

“What takes you to Elidir, Pates?”

“They’re renewing a push for a passage north and put out a call. We’re answering.”

Demand for Isgeri exports has always been high in Molthune, and the safest routes between the two all pass through Druma, which ruthlessly exploits this advantage. Lately, Druma has been raising tariffs on goods coming from Isger, and Cheliax started paying attention. With their influence waning elsewhere, they’re making another push to invest in Isger. Opening a passage north and kicking Druma from the table would be something of a two-fer.

This is basic Druma. They teach us this stuff practically before we learn to read. And, for the next half hour, it gave us something to talk about that wasn’t me.

Then the grace period expired. “So how about you? What has you going to Elidir?” Pates asked.

“It’s just a stopover,” I said. “I’m headed to Breachill.”

“And what’s waiting for you in Breachill?” Paulana asked.

I went with a version of the truth. “A better life than I can make for myself in Saringallow, for sure. Breachill was…recommended to me by someone I trust. I don’t know what I’ll find there, exactly, but it can’t be worse than where I was.”

“And where was that?”

“Rock bottom and digging.”

They could tell I didn’t want to go into it, which I appreciated. We made some small talk for a bit, then I politely excused myself to turn in for the night.

Honestly, they are decent enough people. This anger, or resentment, or whatever it is I am feeling towards them is obviously not earned, and it’s certainly not fair. But it’s not so easy to just turn off, either. Still, I can’t go the rest of my life avoiding people for the crime of being friends, so I’m going to make the effort to spend time with them tomorrow.

I don’t have to enjoy it. I just have to try.