fantasy

“No. No. No! Try it again.”

Daerci blew a stray strand of blonde hair out of her eyes with an exasperated huff. There is no pleasing the master today…no matter how hard I try.

She raked the back of her forearm across her brow and narrowed her eyes to focus her concentration more directly on the stubborn mechanism of the lock. Biting her lip, she maneuvered the slim lockpick inside the keyhole, listening for the faint click that would signal success.

When it came, she almost missed it, but the lock fell open in her hand.

“I did it!” she crowed, looking up at Ravenwing for approval.

A scowl marred his handsome features. “The guards could have spotted you, had a pint in the tavern down the road, then come back to watch you finish before arresting you, as long as that took. You have to be quick, Daerci. That just wasn’t good enough.” He snapped the lock closed and stepped back. “Do it again.”

Her heart sank to the toes of her new boots. She could feel her lip starting to tremble and pressed her mouth tightly together to stop it. I try so hard to do what he wants of me…but I can count the times I’ve pleased him on one hand. Will I ever get it right?

Staring down at the boots, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Master. I’ll do better. I promise.”

She heard rather than saw his reaction—a soft oath in his musical tongue—and then she felt his arms go around her. “I’ve done it again, haven’t I, ruathia?” he murmured. “Dear child, next time I start pushing you too hard kick me in the shin instead of feeling like you have let me down. It is I who have let you down.”

“How can you say that, Master?” she protested, pulling back and searching his face anxiously. “If ‘twern’t for you, I would be halfway across the sea by now—or buried in it. You took me away from those horrible beasts….”She shuddered at the mere thought of the slavers who had captured them and hastened her mother’s death. “I owe you me life.”

He went down on one knee before her and brushed the hair out of her eyes. “I will never let anyone hurt you again, Daerci. You have been through more than enough pain. If I forget sometimes, forgive me. I am not used to a companion, and I am set in my ways.”

She replied with a solemn nod, sensing that he needed some response, but unable to speak for the lump in her throat. Emotions swirled within her; pain over the loss of her parents, fear of the future, and an overwhelming joy to belong with the mysterious Ravenwing. She already trusted him more in three weeks than she had ever trusted any other man—including her father.

She sniffed and dragged a grimy hand beneath her nose. “I’ll try again now, Master. I promise I’ll do it faster this time.”

“Daerci…handkerchief—remember?” He handed her his own square of silk.

“I’m sorry, Master. I forgot.” She blew her nose obediently.

Ravenwing grinned. “Much better.” He patted her shoulder then rose to his feet in one graceful move. “Enough for now, little one. You are asleep where you stand. I should have seen it earlier.”

“No, I ain’t. I’m fine.” A huge yawn cracked her jaw to call her a liar.

“No arguments, young lady. Time for bed.”

“But—”

“Sleep.” It was more than a suggestion, and Daerci felt the floor rising up to meet her as her knees gave way.

He caught her before she fell, sweeping her up in his arms and carrying her to bed. She let go her hold on the wakeful world and surrendered to the dreaming one.


When she awoke the next morning, Ravenwing was standing before the window of the dingy room staring out at the dawn with a wistful yearning naked in his expression. She caught her breath at the sight of him.

He turned at the sound and saw that she was awake. A crooked grin tipped his lips. “Hello there. I thought you might sleep the day away.”

Daerci gasped, dismay washing through her, and pushed aside the thick coverlet. “I am so sorry, Master. I will get to me chores at once!”

He laughed slightly and sank down on the edge of the bed. “Rest easy, sparrow. It was not a criticism. You are a growing child. You need sleep. It is just gone seven bells. We are in no particular hurry to get anywhere. Do not fret so.” He patted her hand.

Daerci felt her whole being lighten, as if a great stone had been lifted from around her neck. She smiled at him shyly.

“That’s better,” he murmured, and his approval warmed her heart. “Now, come along and get dressed. We have work to do.”

Daerci bounded up out of the bed, dragging on leggings and tunic over her shift and binding up the cloud of golden hair that cascaded about her shoulders. She had taken to wearing it shoved up under her cap. It was easier to travel as a boy. Fewer questions were directed to a young man with an indentured apprentice than one with a girl child in tow.

“Now, we must start thinking about the next step in your education, my dear. Despite what I said last night, your lockpicking skills are coming along splendidly. But there are other skills for you to learn.

“Today, we will explore the marketplace. I will teach you how to choose an appropriate target.”

“Target fer what?”

“Oh, my child, how will I ever make a decent thief of you?” Ravenwing mourned, his eyes dancing with laughter. “You are so refreshingly honest.”

“I’ll do whatever you say, Master. Just tell me what you want me t’ do.”

He threw an arm around her shoulders. “Just stay yourself, Daerci.”


They wandered through the crowded marketplace for hours. Daerci’s eyes sparkled with excitement. Noises swirled around her, indistinguishable from each other, but weaving a blanket of sound that settled about her like a comforter. Ravenwing steered her through the narrow pathways between the booths, bending to whisper in her ear when he spotted a potential mark.

“There.” He pointed across the market square to where a portly merchant in velvet and furs stood arguing with a stall owner. “Do you see that man?”

Daerci nodded.

“That is the sort of victim you want to look for. He is too sure of himself to pay any attention to his purse, and too fat to feel it when you cut the strings.”

“When I what?” Her voice came out in a little squeak.

“Don’t panic.” Ravenwing grinned down at her. “I was speaking hypothetically, little one. I am not going to make you clip a purse today. But shall I show you how it is done?”

Daerci frowned. I want to please him, but is this the way? It isn’t right to steal…is it? What would mum say? I’m so confused….

Ravenwing squatted beside her, brushing a stray curl back from her face and tucking it under her cap. “It is how we survive, little one,” he said softly. “Do you trust me?”

Reluctantly, she nodded her head.

“I never take more than I need, and I only do it once per market. That purse will have to last us for several weeks. And I promise, he’ll never miss it.”

“I understand, Master.”

“Good girl. Now, watch closely.” He rose to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he winked at her and strolled casually toward the intended victim, who was still in heated argument with the stall owner. Pretending to examine the sumptuous fabrics displayed in the booth, Ravenwing slipped a slim blade out of his sleeve into his hand.

Daerci watched from the shadow of a nearby tent, her heart in her mouth. What if he gets caught? What will I do?

Carefully lifting the purse with one hand, Ravenwing slit the strings attaching it to the man’s belt and continued his stroll. Daerci bit her lip, craning her neck to look for the slim figure amid the crowd of marketgoers.

Suddenly a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, and a gruff voice barked, “Here, what do you think you are on about?”

Daerci jumped two feet, whirling to confront her captor. Had they been caught? Could she run?

She found herself looking up into the laughing face of Ravenwing. “Oh, the look on your face! I’m sorry, little one…” He got himself under control with difficulty. “Come. I’ll buy you dinner.” He hefted the heavy purse in one hand. “This should feed us for awhile. And maybe buy you a blade of your own. You’ll need that.”

Resentment twisted her mouth into a frown. “That weren’t funny,” she muttered sullenly.

“You’re right.” His tone was chagrined, and he hung his head. “Can you forgive me?” He peeked at her through his lashes and her anger faded.

How can I stay angry with him? He’s all I’ve got.

"Where do we go now, Master?”

“I think it is best that we leave this town. What do you think?”

Daerci cast an uneasy glance to where the fat merchant had just discovered his missing purse. A commotion was beginning to build in volume. “I think we’d best get out of here before they close the gate.”

Throwing an arm around her trembling shoulders, Ravenwing steered her away from the marketplace. When they reached the relative quiet of the tavern district, Ravenwing led the way into an alley and hunkered down, his back to the wall and spilled the coins from the purse into his hand. Gold and silver sparkled in the dim sunlight. He grinned up at her. “Quite a haul.”

He tipped most of the coins back into the purse, but held out a small gold bit, two silver, and a handful of copper. “Here. This is for you.”

She held out a hand that shook with emotion. What he was offering her was more money than she’d ever held in her life. And it is for me? For my own? She looked up at him in wonder. “It’s really mine?” she whispered.

“It’s yours.” He curled her fingers closed over the coins. “Now I would squirrel it away somewhere, sparrow, so it isn’t lost or spent too soon. It is always better to have a coin or two on hand against the lean times.”

Daerci tucked the coins inside her boot cuff. ‘Twill have to do fer now, she thought, resolving to find a better spot as soon as she was able.

“Come now, we have miles to go….” He looked down at her and his eyes were shadowed. “And I think it is time we had that little talk I promised you when we met.”

He turned and led the way through the streets and out of the town. Along the way, they purchased provisions, and Daerci bought a sturdy leather belt with a hidden pocket on the underside of it. She tucked her remaining coins into it, proud to have something of her own. Ravenwing added a slim belt knife and sheath to her kit, and she felt ten feet tall.

As they walked down the country lane, sharing an orange, Ravenwing asked her a question. “Daerci…have you ever heard of elves?”

She felt a tremor of fear run through her. “Them wicked creatures that steal yer soul?”

Ravenwing threw back his head and laughed in delight. “Steal your soul? Oh my…I’ve known some you would think that of.”

“You’ve…known some?” She fought to control her panic. Mum told me stories of elves—how they steal children from their cradles and turn them into empty shells. How cruel and evil they are. And here he talks of elves as if they are his friends….

Ravenwing took her hand and led her over to a fallen tree stump, and sat her down. He hunkered down beside her, holding her hands in his. “Daerci, this may be hard for you to accept.” He sighed heavily.

By the Flames, he’s decided he don’t want me if I don’t like elves. Her breath caught in a sobbing hitch.

“Oh, child—don’t look so terrified. Please. I have a confession to make to you, pet. I am an elf.”

She shrank back from him, unable to help herself. Elves had filled her nightmares for as long as she could remember.

Ravenwing reached up to brush back the errant strand of hair that would not stay tucked into her cap no matter how she tried. “Dearest girl…I know you are frightened. I swear by all I hold sacred that the elves are no worse than your people—though no better either. Now, I must show you another secret. Will you sit right here and not run away until we’ve talked about it?”

Bewildered but intrigued, she nodded her head.

Ravenwing stood, stepping away from her and spreading his cloak on either side of him. He murmured a phrase in his musical tongue.

That must be elven, she realized with wonder.

As she watched, Ravenwing’s form began to change. She gasped aloud, her jaw dropping open as he seemed to melt away before her eyes. His outstretched arms blurred, sprouting feathers and merging with the cloak to form wings. He gave a harsh, crowing caw, and flew up to circle above her head in a sweeping circle.

Daerci clapped her hands. “Oh, Master! How wonderful.”

He swooped down to perch on her shoulder. Daerci flinched away from the fluttering wings so close to her face and the bird uttered a bark of laughter.

“Now you see where I got my name.” The elf’s voice was rough but understandable.

She reached a tentative finger to stroke the sleek feathers. They were soft and warm to her touch. “Do all elves do that?” she asked shyly.

The bird cocked its head. “Do what?”

“Change like that.”

Ravenwing shook his head. “Not all.” His muscles bunched beneath him, and he launched himself into the air. He circled her head again, and then spiraled in to land, resuming his elven form by the time he touched down.

He grinned down at her. “I told you I was a healer—it runs strong in my family. I am also a magic-user of more than slight renown. Magic is an elven trait. All wizards have a taint of elven blood somewhere in their line.”

“Really?” Daerci breathed, her questions bubbling with in her. “All magic-users? How do you learn? Does it hurt to change like that? When did you become a wizard?”

“Easy, child!” Ravenwing stemmed the flow of questions with a laugh. “We have years to discuss such things. But I wanted you to know my secrets.”

“Why, Master?”

“To show that I trust you, Daerci—and that you can trust me. We will need that trust as time goes on.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Eeonathor.”

“What?” Her brow furrowed, confused by the strange sounding word.

“Eeonathor. It is my name. Eeonathor Eriaborae.”

“Ee-on-a-ther.” She stumbled over the pronunciation, but earned a smile of approval.

“Very good, ruathia.”

“You’ve called me that before,” she commented shyly. “What does it mean?”

“Daughter.”


(illustration by Linnea Sinclair http://www.starfreighter.com )