CHAPTER ELEVEN

Castar had not been long gone. Only a few moments had passed. He should be somewhere in the woods of Ritora. It was past the time when souls who had good plans for the next day would still be awake. Some had concluded that the night would not pass until they sealed their wishes with the moon as their witness.

Zyra had refused to return to her room. She knelt there in front of the house and wept until she could shed no more tears. She would not stop crying, but she had no more tear behind her dull eyeballs. It was over. She could cry no more. She cried for Castar as if he had lost his life.

Isher had tried to bring her back to the house, even though he knew it was just a waste of time.

"I am so sorry," she cried out as she lay on her knees. Isher only worried about one thing... will his mother even forgive him for causing all this?

Castar was long gone by then, but that did not stop her from screaming his name and hoping he would come back into her arms.

"Bring him back to me, bring Castarius back!" said Zyra, screaming at Isher. She stood up and grabbed him by the shoulder and shook him as she spoke.

"I will not forgive you for this. This is everything you wished for, is not it? Now you have it, and I hope it satisfies you," Zyra said. She screamed her words in Isher's face.

Isher's eyes watered at the bitterness he saw rising in his mother's eyes. He swallowed as he heard what she had to say. He knew he had crossed the line. He had never seen his mother that way. Her hair was no longer the beautiful pile she wore on her head, her reddened eyes were obvious signs of resentment, and her voice expressed so much of the rage that raced behind her breastbone.

She pushed Isher out of the way and headed back into the house. His eyes followed her until she had disappeared into the darkness that cloaked the house. His eyes had reddened as well. Not in anger, but in horror. Maybe of remorse. He knew not what could come of the woman he saw in his mother, this woman who, for once, offered no possibility of relief.

That was a first. Zyra would set a condition under which she would forgive him if he met it, but this time she did not. This terrified Isher.

He could not move for a moment. He was paralyzed by what Zyra was had told him. He just stood there staring at the door, for he was not sure if he could go back into the house.

Zyra closed her door as soon as she entered. She sat down on her bed and cried some more. She remembered what had happened that night. She remembered every detail. She could have forgotten none of it. It went through her mind a few times, and when she was done, she started all over again. There came a point when she sniffled. She stopped sobbing and focused on imagining the image of what was slipped out of Castar's hand as he eavesdropped on them. Her eyes widened the moment she remembered where she had seen it from.

"Oh Spirits!" she muttered. She remembered correctly. She knew it was the pendant that belonged to the creatures of the north. She faded back to the few times she had seen Kranians with it.

"How does it all fit together?" She spoke to no one but herself. She was lost in her own thoughts. The question was asked by herself and should only be answered by her.

"It can not be true..." she said.

YILLIUS' TAVERN

Even though the night had grown so old, Yilius' tavern was not dry yet. It was still full. No seat was left vacant, and there was no table left without a tankard. They all sat and ordered while Yilius and his boy ran around trying to keep up with their requests. Yilius never found this tiring, for what he loved best was banging on the bar (Kartis)

"Listen!" cried Yilius to his customers. He slapped his hands together over his head to get their attention. It was noisy in there. Each table had its own noisemakers, and they knew how to do it well. Those who were already too drunk to listen talked and laughed. Yilius sighed. He knew he had to climb up on the counter to get their attention.

He climbed up on the counter and clapped a few times. The boy knew Yilius was wasting his time up there, believing that even a blaring horn would not put them in a state to listen.

He poured a cup of alcoholic wine into the fire by the hearth. The frightening sight of the fire consuming the bricks around the hearth and the hissing sound of the wine in the fire got Yilius what he needed: people's attention. He gave the boy a thumb's up in appreciation of his help. When they all turned to him, he spoke.

"We will close soon. My barrels are almost empty. I need to refill for tomorrow," he said, yelling at the top of his lungs. Some who had not had too much to drink nodded, others just kept drinking. They were all men. No woman would be in a place like this at this hour.

Yilius came down from the countertop and had a drink as well. After mixing a drink, he leaned over the counter and took his first sip.

He noticed a male figure floating in through the door. He wore a loose cloak that had a hood over his head, and it said only one thing about him. It was not his will to be seen or recognized by Yilius. The way he reached for his hood and pulled it close to his face when he felt Yilius' curious gaze was the most important proof that Yilius' conclusion was correct.

The coat was brown and covered his entire body so that no part of it could be seen. He walked to the left. Whatever he was looking for, there could be anything, but it was not a cup of wine. He had come for someone. Yilius set his mug on the countertop and straightened, widening his gaze. His eyes followed him to a table. The table where Mafik sat alone.

Mafik, who was drinking, paused for a while when he saw the man under the cloak approach his table. He glanced at the man who had sat down in front of him and took another sip.

Mafik was like a wounded lion. He rolled in pain. Drinking was the only remedy he saw fit to ease the pain in his thigh caused by Era. There was also a bandage wrapped over his bald head to prevent the open wound from becoming infected. The one tending to him must have picked quite a few broken vase pieces from the cut on his head, for Era left a trace as a reminder.

"No one will share a table with me?" said Mafik to the hooded man. The man was cautious.

Mafik was indeed waiting for him to speak, but he did not say a word.

Yilius, sitting behind the table, was still watching him. He wanted to see who was hiding under the cloak. There was a strength in him that kept him from overlooking things and busying himself with his drink.

Mafik sat. He was still waiting for an answer. The man rested well under his cloak before pulling out a scroll. He opened it and handed it to Mafik.

Mafik took it and saw that it contained the picture of a person, the name of that person, and the name of a place.

"Castar, son of Aldéris-" Mafik read to the figure sitting before him, and it nodded.

He picked up a handful of Kartís and dumped it on the table. The sound of coins clashing against each other reached Mafik's ears and his jaw clenched in anticipation of the job being done. Mafik knew what he meant, even if he said nothing.

The figure raised his left hand, extended his thumb, and stroked his throat with it. With that, he signaled to Mafik that he wanted the man in the picture dead.

Yilius continued to watch. He did not remove his eyes. He was witness to every moment, but he still could not understand anything. He knew Mafik as a man who had his hands in dirty places, but he could say nothing with certainty.