Thomas

  “Give me that!” she snarled, trying to reach her goal. Her lithe body was strong beyond belief, and she finally managed to get him on his back, but before she could position herself he had brought his legs up, blocking her way.

  Exasperated and panting she swore, “Godsdamnitt! Why won't you fuck me!?” Both their bodies were slick with sweat, which made the cold air doubly uncomfortable.

  Something about it all struck Thomas funny, and he began to chuckle. At first it was a semi-hysterical giggle, but it grew into a full bellied laugh quickly. She looked at his face, furious, and then it struck her as well. She didn't give up her grapple, but within moments they were both laughing as they fought on the floor. Finally, the laughter robbed them both of their strength, and they lay entangled like a human pretzel, giggling on the floor like two mad children.

  Minutes passed and they laughed themselves out. They had straightened their bodies out a bit, but she still lay curled against him, refusing to let go. Her face was invisible, hidden by her hair and pressed against his chest. He felt her shoulders jerking slightly, and he thought at first she might be laughing again—until her soft sobs became audible. She cried for a long time, and Thomas held her, stroking her hair, as if to sooth a child.

  Dawn broke in through the window, stabbing at Thomas' eyes. He was back in bed, clothed now, with Delia curled beside him, also clothed. After their struggle, they had come to some sort of truce, although what it all meant was quite impossible for him to know. Rising from the bed, she gave him a sheepish grin, her hair was tangled and wild.

  Not knowing what to say, he glanced at the sun coming through the window.

  “I'd better be going, I'm starving, I feel like I've run a mile,” said Delia, giving him a strange half-smile. “Check the hall before I step out, or you'll wish you really had done what they'll be saying, if they see me.”

  He looked out and then nodded to her. Before she left, she grabbed him again, hugging him tightly. “We're still friends, so don't start acting all weird on me.”

  For some reason that made him think of Islana, although he couldn't immediately see the connection. She let go suddenly, and quick as a flash she was gone. She failed to notice a pair of eyes watching her from the dark end of the corridor.

  Chapter 10

  Drumaness

  Islana was humming softly to herself while brushing out her long dark hair. A look in the mirror showed a confident young woman staring back at her. In the days since her father's 'visit' she had developed a new sense of purpose. It was as though the experience had solidified something inside her, giving her new resolve. She wasn't overly irritated by Delia's new found closeness to Thomas either, although it still bothered her a little when she saw the girl sitting next to him on a bench, usually with a book in hand.

  She had seen them on several occasions, either reading or walking together. They talked amiably, but there was nothing hinting at anything more. Still, she was suspicious. Before this she had never known Thomas to show such interest in anyone, man or woman. Not that it matters. What do I care what they may or may not be doing? she cut that thought off abruptly. She knew Thomas well enough to know he wasn't so casual in his relations. She also knew, deep down, that it did matter to her, whether she could admit it or not.

  Another summons, this time to the abbot's office, interrupted her thoughts. Dressing in her armor and uniform she wasted no time getting there. She found Grand Master Brevis waiting within when she arrived, talking amiably with the abbot. He stood and motioned her over, “Islana! Come here, I have something important for you. Did you see Brother Thomas on you way over here?”

  “No I didn't, should I have?”

  “Doesn't matter, you can relay the gist of this when you see him, but be sure to send him along anyway, he'll need to get his orders directly from Father Whitmire regardless.” He quickly filled her in, they were being sent to carry papers to the temple of Kaelan, located in Drumaness. A small trade agreement had been worked out, regarding mead shipments. The only matter remaining to be resolved was the actual delivery of the signed documents. They were to leave at dawn in two days.

  Islana waited until he had finished, “One question, sir.”

  “Go ahead.” Sir Brevis always worried when she started a question so formally.

  “What exactly is my purpose here? It sounds as though you simply need Thomas, pardon, Brother Thomas to deliver the documents and finalize the agreement. What is my part in this?”

  The older paladin sighed with relief, as questions went that one was fairly mundane, “It should be readily apparent. You are to provide protection and support, as a defender of the faith.”

  Islana frowned, “But I'm just a trainee.”

  “Not any longer, Father Whitmire has agreed you are ready to take your vow. You're to prepare for your vigil tonight.” The vigil was a twelve hour fast, from dusk till dawn while she prayed to the goddess for guidance before giving her oath and receiving her vows.

  Islana was taken by surprise, she hadn't expected this yet. At best, she had thought it would be at least another year. Unable to figure out a proper response, she thanked them and made her way out.

  Once she had left, Whitmire looked at the paladin commander, “You're quite sure about this?”

  Brevis nodded, “She's a bit rough, but she shows more promise than I've seen in a decade. She won't gain any more from training exercises. She needs experience.” For a moment, he looked old, “I just hope that she grows to meet that potential, rather than die despite it, but that matter is in the goddess' hands.”

  ***

  Islana was walking rapidly, lost in thought. She had to tell someone. Then she remembered, she was supposed to look for Thomas. Surely he'll be happy for me. In fact, she was rather scared, the responsibility of a paladin's duties seemed too large for her. Maybe Thomas will have good advice, he's usually got something wise to say. Abruptly she remembered Grom, Thomas still spent some afternoons helping him at the smithy.

  She reached the forge a short time later, but Thomas was nowhere to be seen. Grom looked over, his question unspoken but easily discerned. “Sorry, I'm looking for Thomas,” she told him. “Have you seen him lately?”

  “Nah, not lately. Why would ye be lookin' fer him?” Something about his eyes hinted at concern.

  She wasn't quite ready to reveal her news yet, not until she had shared it with Thomas at least, so she made a feeble attempt at dissembling, “Nothing important, I just haven't talked to him much lately and he's been a bit distracted. I thought he might be able to help me with a question I had.” She paused, then decided her remark sounded a bit too much like that of a girl seeking attention. “…about the faith. Theology, nothing personal,” she amended. That didn't help.

  The dwarf sighed, setting down his hammer. She's settin' her cap for someone who'll only bring her sorrow, he thought to himself. It was not in Grom's nature to interfere, but he'd grown fond of her over the past year. She had more fire in her than most and she had never shown herself to be mean spirited. Violent on occasion, but not without cause. “Maybe ye might rethink yer plan.”

  “What?” It was entirely out of character for Grom to offer advice. “What plan?”

  “Now lass, I know ye've set yer bonnet on that young priest, but I don' think any good will come of it.” Now that he'd opened his mouth there was no getting around the subject.

  That put her on the defensive, “I think you're making a mistake, I haven't, 'set my bonnet' on anyone. What does that mean anyway? I'm not some schoolgirl. I have no intention of chasing men at present anyway.”

  “Now don't be like that. Ye're not foolin' me none. I just think ye'd be better served lookin' elsewhere.” Grom glanced at the bar on his anvil, the metal had cooled, and would need to be reheated, but there was no help for that now.

  Islana stared hard at the smith, her intuition was clamoring for her attention. “What are you trying to tell me Grom? You sound as if you know something.”
r />   “Nah, don't be after me to talk about other people's trysts. Its none of me affair, I just wanted to save ye some tears,” as soon as the words left his lips he knew he had slipped.

  Trysts? Trysts! “What are you not telling me? Have you seen Thomas with someone?” The conversation went in circles for a while, with Grom trying to turn her questions aside, but he was no match for her verbal sparring. Defeated at last, he gave up the battle.

  “Fine! Fine! I saw that new girl leavin' his room, at a rather unusual hour. An’ before that they was a wailin' and carryin' on as if there was a war goin' on in there. An’ not the sort of war where folks are dyin' neither. More the sort of war that comes after the war, where everyone's makin’ up and decidin' who's paying the reparations. Na' wait, that doesn't make sense either. Lemme start over, ok so let’s say ye've got a cat, and it’s that time, and there's a tom roamin' around, so she starts yowlin' and makin' an awful racket. Now if ye…”

  Islana was turning several shades of red, “Enough! I get the idea.” She had never heard the dwarf utter so many words at one time, and he showed no sign of finishing without help. “Thank you, Grom. You've been most illuminating. Don't worry yourself though, I'm not interested in Thomas in the least, nor do I care what he does in his room when the lights are out.”

  “Jus' don't kill him and we'll all do fine,” replied the dwarf, but she was already walking away.

  “Tom roamin' around, now that was funny,” he began mumbling to himself, “cuz tom is short fer Thomas. Ah me, he's going ta' be right mad when he finds out I told her that.”

  ***

  In the end, she didn't find Thomas, he happened across a messenger and was in the abbot's office even as she was talking to Grom. She didn't look for him the next day either, it had taken the better part of the night to clear her mind. The ceremony had filled her with a calm energy and left her renewed in spirit and purpose. It also left her exhausted. She spent the entire morning sleeping afterward.

  As a result, she didn't see Thomas until the morning they were to set out for Drumaness. He was standing at the front gate waiting when she arrived, a small pack on his back and a scimitar belted at his side. The sword didn't surprise her; the scimitar was the favored weapon of Delwyn and since his ordination a few months prior he had taken to training with it more seriously. She had been his sparring partner on more than one occasion.

  Looking at him now, she felt sad, and his friendly smile and happiness to see her did nothing to help either. He spent the better part of their first hour on the road congratulating her and making small talk. He seemed excited by their mission, the first either of them had received. She tried to keep up with the banter and small talk, but it got increasingly difficult. Every time he smiled at her she saw him in her mind, lying atop Delia, grunting and sweating like a beast in rut.

  “Who would have thought we'd be sent out together?! Remember when we first met? A couple of years ago—you were magnificent saving that child, and when you punched Sir Brevis! Ha! I thought the world was going to end, I've never seen anyone do that before, or since. Back then—I couldn't have imagined you here today! Look at you!” Normally Thomas was perceptive enough to catch onto her moods, but today he seemed oblivious.

  In fact, he had noticed her somber mood. It was hard not to, given her monosyllabic responses, but he didn't know what else to do. So he kept on, hoping to lift her spirits. “I might be wrong, but I'll bet you're the first female paladin to take the vows in the last five years. Certainly you’re the most beautiful...” It wasn't like him to compliment her looks, but he was desperate to cheer her up.

  “Thomas…,” she said quietly. He paused and looked at her. “…If you're looking for a woman to please, I'm sure there will be plenty in Drumaness. I for one am not interested in your flattery or praise.” She kept her tone level, but the words hit him like cold water.

  A strange looked crossed his face, and he started to open his mouth, but then thought better of it.

  They resumed walking, the chilly silence casting a pall over the road ahead. After a few miles, he spoke up, “I was just happy for you.” She could hear his sincerity, but it only made her madder. She bit back an angry response, although she did growl audibly.

  A few minutes later he broke the silence again, “What did you mean, 'a woman to please'? Do you think I'm that shallow?” His own bitterness was showing now.

  Something tore loose within her, “No Thomas, I know you aren't shallow. In fact, you're very nice, so nice the whole world can't help but notice! You think I don't know how 'deep' you are? Trust me, I know! You're probably the nicest man I've ever met. You're so considerate, so kind, I wonder that you ever have time to please yourself! In point of fact, I was thinking of you when I said that; it seems to me you deserve some kindness yourself. So when I said, 'a woman to please' what I really meant, was that you should find some whore to spend yourself on! I just don't want to be that whore, so don't waste your time telling me that I'm beautiful!” She was yelling now, and every word was the truth, even though sarcasm made them into weapons. Large tears began to roll down her cheeks as she finished. She turned her back to hide them.

  His footsteps crunched in the gravel as he walked up behind her. He just doesn't know when to give up does he? His hand was almost to her shoulder when she warned him, “Don't.” There was a lethal tone in her voice. “Leave me alone Thomas, it’s better that way.”

  The rest of the day was spent in silence, and even when setting up camp they managed without saying a word. A small fire failed to warm them as they ate a cold dinner; neither of them had felt like cooking. That night Thomas lay watching the stars, sleep beyond his reach, much as they were. Instead, he mulled her words over in his mind, casting about for reasons, but logic was no help.

  The dawn found them exhausted, but they rose and trudged onward. The land was beginning to roll as they got into the foothills; grassy knolls and rocky outcroppings became increasingly common. Near midday they came to the top of a rise in the road, the view ahead stretching for miles. Staring at the vista before them, Islana came to a decision.

  “Thomas.” She saw him stop, waiting to see what she would say. “I am sorry for what I said yesterday, you didn't deserve that.”

  “Well I'm sure if you'll just tell me what has you so mad at me, we can figure something out. You're my best friend, Islana. Just trust me with whatever it is that's bothering you.” The sunlight had given his brown hair golden highlights.

  Best friend. Those words stood out in her mind. That's the problem, but you can't see that. She walked closer, until they were standing just a foot apart, “Have you ever thought, that maybe, just maybe, I didn't want to be friends?” Islana was tall for a woman, her eyes almost level with his own; he could see the sadness in them.

  His eyes widened, “Huh?” Didn't want to be friends, what? “I'm confused.”

  Islana gave up, “You're such an idiot.” She said that almost tenderly. Leaning forward, she hugged him, something she had never done before.

  He held onto her, “Why don't you want to be friends?”

  “Just shut up. We are friends. See, I'm hugging you.” Islana had made peace with herself. Her anger was gone, leaving her just a bit sad. It felt good holding him, but he was not hers. She pushed him away.

  They began walking again, trying to reach the town before the afternoon was gone. The mood had lightened considerably, and they talked more easily now, but Thomas pondered their situation. He just couldn't understand women. He was beginning to wonder if he wanted to understand them. One tries to make my wildest fantasies come true, but I can't do a thing because it'll hurt her more. The other is beautiful and completely unapproachable. Says she doesn't want to be friends, but we're friends anyway. I honestly think they're trying to drive me mad.

  ***

  They arrived in Drumaness an hour later. The temple of Kaelan was the most prominent building in town, so it wasn't hard to find. The god they worshiped there was fond
of wine and drink, so fond in fact, that the priests wore stoles emblazoned with an ale mug. The town itself was known for its fine ales and produced several excellent meads.

  The man at the main entrance to the temple looked a bit rough, but he was friendly enough and quickly ushered them inside. They were asked to wait in the main sanctuary, the heart of the temple proper, if it could be called that. Kaelan's primary area of worship was essentially an ale hall. The entire floor was dominated with feast tables and against the far wall was a bar. The whole affair would have looked normal, in a tavern, if it were very large, except for the large golden chalice displayed behind said bar. The term 'chalice' wasn't quite right either, since it had the form of a very large beer stein. It was encrusted with jewels and probably worth a fortune, not that anyone could sell such a thing; it was their holiest relic.

  A few of the more devout worshipers were sitting at the bar venerating their god. At any other place, they would have been considered drunks, starting an early binge. Evening had not yet come, so the majority of the congregation were still out working in the fields. Thomas and Islana took a seat at the bar and tried to get their bearings.

  Thomas eyed the nearest 'patron' and decided to take a chance, “Excuse me, I'm looking for the high priest, would you happen to know if he's here today?”

  The man belched and leaned over, “Aye laddie, he's about here somewhere. Sure an’ he'll be back soon, lest our mugs run dry!” Thomas took that to mean that the chief priest would be back soon.

  A moment later a man entered the bar from the back, carrying a large cask. He wore a brown robe and the customary red stole. His beard was red as well, but its shade clashed with that of his raiment. Seeing them at the bar he set his cask down and came over.

  “Fit like?” The priest's accent was unintelligible, at least to Thomas' ear.

  “I'm sorry, what?”