Shifting Sands

      “I am no teacher, youngling. I appreciate your resolve, but this is not how things are done. You must petition the leaders of the Path and a teacher is chosen for you. And before that, the Rixen must speak to your heart and your mind. It is not a choice to be made in a moment of grief and anger.”
      Juna yanked her hand from his and stared at him for a moment. He saw grief and anger battling behind her gentle features. Finally grief won and silver tears traced shimmering lines down her cheeks and were absorbed into her skin before they had a chance to fall from her chin. She clasped her hands together in her lap and focused on them as she spoke. Her voice was soft and full of emotion.
      “I have heard the Rixen. Do you think I want to leave my home? My home.” Bitterness edged into her voice. “It is not even mine anymore. It is the home of the Horono now. This is how it must be.”
      Jaul studied the young female and thought about the loss of his own brother so many years ago. He'd experienced that same grief and anger. He was already walking the Path by then and Rixen guided him through the pain. He could only hope They would do the same for her.
      “Very well. I will do what I can for you. You may study with me but only until we reach Dolnanir. Then you will begin formal studies. Does this suit you, youngling?”
      Relief filled her face and she nodded. “It suits me, Warden. When can we leave this place?”
      “We will leave in two days. You must say goodbye to your family and then we will complete the farewell rituals the Rixen require of us.”
      She stood and took a step towards the door. She held open the flap and was about to leave when Jaul stopped her.
      “Listen for your new name, Juna. The Rixen will whisper it to you.”
      “They already have, Warden. From now on I am Tala.”
      Tala, Jaul thought, remembering his earlier prayer. Peace. I hear you Rixen.

Hope

“Whenever you’re ready,” I said quietly, not changing position.

As if on cue a woman materialized and took the seat across from me. Of course she didn’t actually materialize; she’d been there the whole time watching and counting right along with me. She was a Shade. Her little magic show probably awed a hell of a lot of bunkos, but I wasn’t impressed. She noticed my lack of enthusiasm and pursed her full, red lips into a pout. As soon as it appeared, the pout was gone and she crossed her arms on the table and leaned forward, showing me a little too much cleavage. It was impressive, yes, but I was just here for a Reading. Whatever other customers may ask for once the curtain was closed was between them and the Reader. I had my own agenda.

“You have the Sight,” she said, thick accent making the words choppy and exotic-sounding. She hadn’t been on this side of a ley line long enough to lose the accent, but long enough to adopt the styles and mannerisms of a native. She watched me with interest, like I was a riddle and she was determined to solve me.

I just shrugged noncommittally. “I get by.”

The secret lives of slugs

Slipping down the hose,
across the lawn and sidewalk.
Careful where you step.

Character comes in
slimy, shiny packages,
leaving silver trails.

Watching you slither,
I find I am hypnotized.
Squishy yet charming.

Market Day

“Careful, you fool! Those are worth more than your lousy hide.”

Magnus thumped Dorpa on his pointed ear and reached over to pluck the delicate silver wing from between the younger goblin’s clumsy fingers. He gently smoothed the crease Dorpa’s heavy-handed touch had caused then placed the wing into one section of a shallow display box.

As he waited on Dorpa to extract its mate, he did a quick inventory of the box’s contents. One pair silver-pink, one pair silver-blue, one pair silver-green and one pair gold-yellow. The gold-yellow pair alone would pay for a month’s rent on Magnus’ vendor stall. Not to mention it would buy enough of Delela’s special rotgut to get him nice and soused for a few days.

“What do they use ‘em for, Master?” Dorpa asked as he removed the second wing from the small lifeless body he held on his lap. This time he used more care. He did not want to incur his master’s wrath.

“For what? Who cares?” Magnus hunched his shoulders in what passed for a shrug. “Fae’s nasty little things. Better off dead, I say.” He gestured to a wicker basket with a cloth draped over the top. Flies buzzed around an opening. “Better for me anyway!” Magnus chuckled.

Dorpa severed the last bit of flesh from the wing and handed it over to his master.

Magnus gently lay the silver-white wing atop its mate, noting the fresh dot of blood on the wing stem. Dorpa did a rather sloppy job, but he doubted anyone would notice but him. He dabbed at the blood with a gnarled green finger and brought it to his lips, his tongue darting out quickly. He closed the glass lid of the display box and locked it with a key on a dirty white string tied around his neck.

“Whole mound’s worth to do yet, Dorpa. I want that one wrapped and boxed right quick,” Magnus said as he settled on his three-legged stool. A grin spread across his round face exposing sharp, crooked teeth. He looked out into the market common where the usual hodgepodge of humans, goblins, elves and half-elves were beginning to mill around, going from one stand to the next. Quite a crowd. He would do well today.

"I feel a sale coming on," Magnus announced, rubbing his grubby hands together. He reached over and thumped Dorpa on the ear again. "Get a move on, you slug."

“Yes, Master.”