Satin's Tale: Dealings Done

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A Small Snag

The sound of a door opening below woke Satin in the early afternoon.  His eyes flicked open and he glanced about without moving while he remembered where he was.  Marren still slept peacefully, curled up against him under the covers, her breathing deep and long, but before he could enjoy the feeling of her bare form against his body the same sound that woke him came again, this time of the same door being closed. 

A shock of panic darted through him.  The band was on shaky enough ground as it was with the town.  The last thing they needed was the sort of commotion being discovered as he was might cause.  He looked down at Marren again, her face mostly hidden by her hair, and bit his lip.  Nothing for it, if he was sensible.  He moved carefully, edging away from her curled form and slipping out of the bed as delicately as he could.  A relieved sigh formed in his chest once he was clear, but he pushed it down, far more interested in remaining silent.  Movement downstairs.  Someone placing down heavy tools, and drawing more water to put over the fire.  He wanted to curse.  Once more, there was no time.  On light feet he grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head.  The tears weren't too bad and it would sew well enough once he had the time.  He moved towards the door but stopped, remembering what he'd seen of the house below.  Definitely no way out undetected there.  His eyes turned again to the small gable window.  It looked out away from the main commons of the town, so no-one would see him, and it wasn't too far down.

Below, the door opened and closed again and he paused.  No luck though; instead of silence, he heard a deep male voice greet the newcomer, the response quiet and feminine, almost too soft for him to hear at all from where he stood.  Marren's parents, no doubt.  One asked if their daughter had not been with the other all morning, to a short negative, and Satin made for the window as quickly as he could, sliding back the catch and pushing it open.  A light breeze met him, though it carried the scent of smoke.  He heard the father calling his daughter's name loudly as he climbed up and slipped through to the outside.

“Satin...?”  Marren had stirred at her father's call and was beginning to sit up, blinking.  Their eyes met for a moment and he hesitated, his chest tightening.  Without thinking, he smiled for her, then winked, putting one finger to his lips.  He didn't know what he meant by it, if anything, or how she would take the gesture from his position, but he hoped it would reassure her enough to keep a secret as he released his grip and dropped to the ground outside.

The smoke was coming from outside the town.  He looked around to check if anyone had seen his escape, then set off at a run, dashing behind the houses as he went and making towards the rising plume.  He came out into the open a few moments later and slowed to a walk.  As he'd expected, the corpses of the orcs, smouldering in a hastily lit bonfire, was the source of the smoke.  Several of the people from the village remained to watch it and he nodded with a solemn downcast of his eyes to them as he passed.  One or two nodded back, but just as many seemed angered just by the sight of him.  One man, eyes red and with a freshly tended gash on his face, shouted out, cursing him, and Satin averted his eyes.  He was aware of the tugging pain of his own fresh wounds, but the man's mistrust was justified.

Further on he could see the gathering of horses that marked the band's camp and he made towards them, his pace quickening again.  It was a strange sense, but as he passed between the picketed horses and into the small area where the uninjured members of the band had laid down their things to rest, a calm comfort crept over him.  Most people, he knew, held fast to a place; a land, a region, a town or a house that was their own, but just the same he could feel in his own heart that, for him, no matter where it happened to be, this was his home, and these people...  James grinned and winked at him before turning back to his journal and Satin ducked his head, fighting off the small spots of colour that threatened to bloom in his cheeks.

“You all rested up then, Satin, lad?  It was a harder night for you than any of us, from what I saw.”  Marley had stood as he arrived, careful eyes examining him.  Some of the other who hadn't noticed his return glanced up and Satin was sure he saw more than one or two grins and hidden laughs.  It made him wonder just what James had been telling them all. He did his best to shrug it off, nodding to Marley instead.

“As I need to be, at least.  I was going to check on our injured, up at the hall, but I wanted to come back here first, at least for a moment.”  Not least in order to get as far away from Marren's house as he could, just in case, though he kept that silent.  Marley paused for a moment, thinking.

“If you say.  You get yourself cleaned up alright? I know that lass you wandered off with meant well, but, if she'd really known anything about tending hurts, she'd have been working with their other healers, child or not.”  He had one eyebrow raised and Satin struggled to find a way to reply, gritting his teeth behind sealed lips.  Eventually he just waved a hand.

“I'm fine.  A little sore for it, but it'll heal.  I'm more worried about having to fix this shirt, honestly.”  He could feel the others in the band listening to the exchange with a quiet intensity, and he was certain many of them were grinning behind his back.

“Oh, so she didn't just tear it right off you then, eh, Satin?”  It was Felaren who snapped first, his laughed comment creating a gap for several of the others to chuckle quietly as well.  Satin closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, though he knew they all needed whatever good-humour they could find at the moment.  He turned his gaze to the other man after the mirth quieted, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, Fel.  I took it off first.  I didn't want to get any more blood on her dress than I had to.”  Another, louder, round of laughter followed his reply and he allowed himself a small smirk.  Marley was grinning as well and nodded to him before turning his attention back to the map he had been examining.  Satin made his way back to his own horse and greeted her properly, then dropped down to relax for a while in the inner ring. 

He was watching Felaren and a few others gamble in between sewing the tears on his shirt when he caught James moving towards him out the corner of one eye.  He looked up as the other man sat beside him, watching the gambling men as well.  It was a moment before he spoke.

“Jokes aside, Satin, what of the girl?  Where is she now, and, if all I think occurred, do her parents know?”  His voice was quiet, like it always was, but there was an extra layer of hush over his words this time.  Satin shifted, uncomfortably aware of the cut on his back tugging at him.  He didn't look at James, his eyes falling instead to the mended fabric in his hands.

“Still asleep in her parents house, when I left her.  She mentioned that they wouldn't be pleased to know, so, I left when I heard them come home.  They won't know unless she tells them herself.”  Beside him, James winced.

“Ah, so ruthless, even at your age.”  He sighed.  “I know you were putting our interests first there, and I'm glad you did, on one hand.  No sense causing more anger when we're in a precarious situation like this... but...”  He seemed stuck for words and fell silent.  Satin knew him well enough by now to wait it out.  Sure enough, he continued after thinking.  “Boys your age, Satin, you're all full of fire and nerves and passion, about things like this.  It's the one time where you're expected to make rash, mad choices and win a lass' adoration, even if it means running for your life soon after.  If you don't let yourself now, you may never.”

“Would that be a bad thing, James?  Really?  I've always learned to be smart before being brave.  Marren won't understand, but better that than turning the whole town against us before we can leave safely.”  He found himself eyeing James with a hard expression, tyring to work out why he seemed so caught up on it.  James whistled and shook his head.

“Ahh...  Harsh, Satin.  I always told Marley he took you too young.  You became a grown man before you ever had a chance to be a boy.  You're as hard as he is.”  When Satin scowled James held his eye.  “You don't take that sort of comment as a compliment, Satin, and for once I don't mean it as one either.  Just you remember: You're playing with a young girl's heart here, not just her loins.  Have a care for it.”  There was a stern note in his voice, almost a reprimand, and Satin dropped his gaze again.

“She asked me to stay here with her.  I could, I suppose.”  He had expected James to laugh at the prospect, but the older man sighed, his expression turning sad.

“You won't though.”

“No, I won't.”  The exchange dropped into a silence that settle between them for a few minutes.  Satin finished darning his shirt and replacing the ties, then pulled it back on.    He could feel the mended seam against the cut on his back, but ignored it.  When James spoke again his voice was resigned.

“I know we often face things that look like choices, but aren't, and I guess for you this is another one of those times.  Maybe you're even right about it.  Keep in mind, though, Satin...  We do what we need to, to survive, yes.  But we survive so that one day we might have a chance to do what we want to instead.  Don't forget that.”  He stood at last, stretching, but Satin taped his leg drawing his eyes back.

“What I need to do, and what I want to do have always been at odds, James, my whole life.  One day I might be able to do what I want to, but you know where that path leads me, and how it might end.”  They both glanced at Marley for a moment and James nodded, a tired sigh making his shoulders slump.

“Yes.  I know.  Just don't harden your heart too far, Satin.  You don't like being compared to Marley?  Well, just now you sounded far too much like him for me.”  He turned to go and Satin let him, watching his back in silence as he crossed through the small camp.

He only had a short while to brood before Marley roused himself from his maps and squinted up at the afternoon sky.  Satin heard him sigh as he stood, and looked in his direction to find the old man looking back.

“Satin.  With me, if you would.  Whistler will need a hand making sure Speedy and the rest of our boys are right to travel by nightfall.  Fel, you too, and help Satin and Whistler out with whatever they need.”  Satin was already climbing to his feet as Felaren nodded and the three headed back towards the town at a relaxed walk.  It was only as they were walking back through the town that Satin realised why they attracted as many stares as they did.  It had become such a natural thing for him to always be wearing his weapons, as it was for the others, but no-one else in the town, save the two or three patrolling look-outs, bore weapon of any sort.  To him, it seemed to invite disaster but a small part of his mind wondered what it must feel like to live like that.  He glanced up at Marley to distract himself.

“I know why we're here, but what's your need, old man?  What else are you planning here?”  He arched an eyebrow and Marley grinned back, a bare twitch of his lips.

“I need to have another talk with their elder, make sure he's going to stand by our agreement.  Everything goes smooth, and we come away from this better than expected.  You two just make sure everything's ready by nightfall and—”  He paused as they approached the mead hall, glancing off to the right.  Satin didn't want to look, but his ears were enough.  He could hear the sound of angry shouting, raised voices that he recognised; one deep and male, the other a young woman.  He didn't need to look to know they were coming from Marren's house.  As Satin averted his eyes, he felt Marley looking down at him.

“Your girl?”  His voice was quiet and devoid of any judgement or scorn, and Satin nodded without looking up.  He heard Marley sigh but it was more thoughtful than anything else.  “Right, well, let's hope you've not made anything harder for us than it needs to be, lad.  Come on, step quick before they come and catch you.”  They all moved more quickly over the last stretch of ground to the mead hall and Satin ducked in ahead of the others, doing his best not to seem like he was fleeing.

Inside, he picked out Whistler and darted over to her before he managed to relax again.  She stood from replacing a bandage and bit her lip as she looked at him.  Before he could speak, she held up a hand.

“Sorry I was harsh on you yesterday, kid.  You live like this, you see friends die, it's just a fact... but, it never stops stinging, every time.  I should have said sooner, but I do think you did the right thing, pushing us to this.  Maybe not the smart thing, for all of us, but the right thing.”  She glanced quickly towards where Marley was already talking to the village elder then back to Satin.  “Marley won't say it, but... he's glad you fought him over this too.  It's why he gave in at all.  I wish we hadn't lost so many, but I ought to blame the orcs for that, not you.”  She hesitated a moment and tilted her head.  “We good?”  Satin took a moment to take in her sudden confession, then nodded to her.

“Of course.  Sorry I wasn't here earlier to help.  When I fell asleep I didn't wake until  afternoon.  We need to be ready to move come nightfall.  How's Speedy doing?”  He glanced towards the injured woman, still lying out flat, seemingly sleeping.  Whistler managed a short laugh.

“Better than expected, to tell the truth.  She'll be alright to ride, so long as we don't press too hard.  There isn't actually a lot more we need to sort out, except beginning to help our boys back to the horses.  I'm guessing that's why Fel's here?”  Satin looked about again to find that Felaren had narrowed in on Speedy in the short few moments since he'd looked last, and was now kneeling beside her, talking with a smile.  Satin grinned at the pair despite himself.  In the past year or two, Speedy had been growing much more receptive to the man's unfaltering flirtation, and though their relations with the other men and women of the band hadn't changed, Satin suspected that much of the time when she squared away debts to him with favours, the losses were very close to deliberate.

“Yes.  We can sort out moving the others first though, just as long as we're ready to go when the old man says.  He mentioned some arrangement with the elder, what's that about?”  Whistler only shook her head with a shrug.

“We haven't had much time to talk.  We'll see when we do, I suppose.  Anyway, let's be about it.  You help Elis there.” She nodded in the man's direction then crouched down to begin helping Hangnail to his feet.    

Several pairs of eyes followed them as they helped the other members of the band out towards the edge of the town, some concerned, others cold.  Satin could still hear the shouts coming from Marren's house as they passed.  Her father was ranting about honour and virtue, what she had done to their family's dignity, in between rage-filled oaths about what he would do to 'the bastard'.  Against him, Marren's voice was no less desperate, pleading that...  Satin turned his head, trying not to listen, but his ears betrayed him all the same.  He heard her crying, a sound like she was shouting through tears, that she loved him, that they would spend their lives together.  He kept walking until he couldn't make out her words any more, head down.  They were almost at the horses before Elis spoke to him.

“Haven't heard much, Satin, but that shouting, from the house by the hall.  Seemed to shake you up a bit, it did.  Not too hard to guess why, that being so.  Don't sweat it, you hear?  We've all been there at one time or another, and sure as the sun's setting, we'll be long gone from here before it can get back to you badly.”  He winked to Satin as they reached his horse, and he climbed gingerly into the saddle, mindful of his bad leg.  The others were getting themselves ready to ride by now as well and Satin found himself looking on for a few moments, his eyes lingering on the horses that would be without riders on their return.  It wasn't the first time, not by a long way, but rarely so many at once, and never before because of a decision he had directly influenced.  Pushing the worry away to the back of his mind, he turned to head back towards the hall.

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