Part 18

“Is he gone yet?”

Stacia peered out the door and watched as Gaavan’s long red hair disappeared around the corner. “Yeah. You can take it out now.” She pushed shut the door and turned to her friend.

Zaira reached inside a trunk and pulled out a large pile of black silk. “Lock the door, would you? I don’t want him barging in on us.”

“Zaira, he’s going to take a bath. Just think how long it will take to wash all that hair. You’ve got plenty of time.”

The red-haired girl laughed softly as she shook out the yards and yards of silk. Holding it up by the shoulders, it trailed the ground, puddling like inky shadows around her feet. Smiling, she nodded. “It’s perfect, Stacia. Thank you.” Bundling it up, she gave her friend a warm hug.

“Hey, no problem,” the other girl said. She turned and eyed the room and the general disarray. “So what are we going to do about all this?” she asked, waving her hand to take in the general disorder.

Zaira sighed and shook her head. “Sell most of it. And what we can’t sell and can’t take with us, we’ll just…leave here, I suppose.”

“So we have, what? A week to get rid of it all?”

The other girl nodded. “Yes.” She looked down at the robe in her hands. “Which means I have a week to finish this.”

“You’re going to try and finish that in a week? Why?”

“I’d like to give it to Gaavan before we leave.”

“Can’t wait to see him in it, can you?” Stacia asked with a teasing grin. To her surprise, Zaira merely smiled back at her.

“You might be right.”

For the first time since she’d known her, Stacia was speechless. She laughed softly and turned to pack the robe to the trunk in which they were hiding it from Gaavan. Sighing, she turned and went to her wardrobe to begin picking out her costume. Even as she was selecting her skirts and reaching for her scarves, she paused and stared into the shadowed depths. “What am I doing?”

“Huh?” Stacia said from across the room where she was going through a trunk. “What do you mean what are you doing?”

The red-haired girl turned, letting the scarf she had picked up fall through them. “What am I doing?” she asked again. “Why am doing this? Is there a reason I need to go dance for that crowd at Derry’s any more?”

Her friend looked at her and shook her head. “No, there isn’t. Not a damn on. And if Derry objects, sic Gaavan on him.”

Zaira actually laughed at that. “Damned right.” She put the skirt she’d selected back on its hook. “And that gives me time to run to Janeltis’ shop before she leaves.”

“What for?” Stacia watched as Zaira went to the hidden place where she kept her small stash of gold and pulled out a few coins. These she slipped into her pocket before turning to Stacia and giving her a wide smile.

“I saw something there the other day that I want to get. Coming?”

“Sure.” Stacia dropped the caftan she’d been holding back into the trunk and hurried after the other girl.

Janeltis’ shop was on the other side of the marketplace on the same lane as the alchemist’s shop that had exploded a few days earlier, just a half a block closer to the square. Like most of the shops on this lane, the storefront was neatly whitewashed and there were potted red flowers in window boxes all around the windows and along the eaves. Herbs grew in a small plot in front of the shop, spicing the air with their fragrances.

Inside, the shop was just as neat and tidy as on the outside. Bunches of dried herbs hung in neat rows from the ceiling timbers, jars of spices lined shelves along the walls. Bins, barrels and crates held all sorts of interesting little items, such as crystals and rocks and boxes lined with cedar. Under the glass-topped counter were piled more boxes, each holding small charms, rings and amulets.

Bustling around the shop was Janeltis. She was a short woman, around Stacia’s height, and she was dressed as neatly as her shop. Her blonde hair, bleached nearly white by the harsh Carana sun as she spent long hours in the hills on the eastern bank of the river searching for herbs, precious stones and earths, rare insects, and other arcane ingredients for spells and potions, was pulled into a smooth braid that hung down her back. Her skin was dark, from the same sun that had bleached her hair, and the laugh lines around her eyes were thick. Her pale blue eyes were friendly as she turned to see Zaira and her friend enter the shop.

“Zaira, Stacia. It’s good to see you.” She gave Zaira a quick once-over. “Not here for healing spells, are you?” she asked sternly.

“No,” Zaira answered quickly, blushing a little and fidgeting. “Haven’t needed those for a long time. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“Yeah, she’s got herself an admirer.”

“Stacia, don’t…”

“It’s true!” Stacia leaned close to Janeltis and whispered loudly, “He’s tall and has a big sword. He seems to be…an admirer of the dancing art form. Especially the way Zaira dances.”

Janeltis grinned at Zaira’s flaming face. “That’s good to hear. So what can I do for you? Looking for something in particular?”

“Yes…As a matter-of-fact…” Zaira wandered over to the counter and searched for several minutes before she found what she was looking for. “There,” she said, stabbing her finger to the glass just above a spool wound with golden thread.

Janeltis leaned over to get a better look. “Thread?” She searched for a key on her chatelaine and unlocked the cabinet and pulled out the spool. “That’s all?”

Zaira took it and nodded, but frowned. “I hope that’s going to be enough…”

“What do you need it for?” the herb-woman asked.

“I…For something I’m making—“

“A robe for her admirer,” Stacia corrected absently from where she was bent over a bin full of trinkets.

Directing a glare towards her teasing friend, Zaira nodded. “Yes. Stacia made it and I’m going to embroider something on it. It’s…a gift to thank him for everything he’s done.”

“I see…” Janeltis took the spool from Zaira, put it back in the cabinet and locked it.

“What—“

“I have something better. Come along,” she said before disappearing into the back of the shop. Exchanging curious looks, Zaira and Stacia followed Janeltis to the back room. The herb-woman bustled around the neatly stacked crates and boxes, pulling out several and shoving them back before she found what she was looking for. “Here we go,” she said, pulling it out so the other two women could see. They peered in to find skein upon skein of rich, golden thread shimmering in the dim light.

“Oh, gods…Janeltis!” Zaira reached in and pulled out a skein, only to have it slip through her fingers like liquid gold. “It’s beautiful. Where ever did you get it?”

She shrugged, picking up several skeins to reveal a rainbow of colors beneath it. “Some merchant that really didn’t know what he had. I got it from him for a steal.”

Zaira reached down and dipped her hand into the multi-colored swirl and pulled out a skein of red, a red so vivid that it fairly seemed to glow in the dim light of the storage room. “I can’t believe it. I’ve never seen thread this fine before. It feels so…It’s almost as if it’s not there at all.”

The herb-woman took the skein from her and fanned it out. “It isn’t, in a sense. It’s spun light.” She held the skein up so that it caught a bit of the late afternoon light that leaked in through the window. The color, brilliant before, seemed to burst forth in a cascade of fire.

“Light?” Zaira breathed in awe. “But…how?”

“It’s silk from a ka’zekai, a type of air elemental.” Janeltis picked up a skein of dark blue that shimmered the same rich blue as the sky on a moonless night.

“This would be perfect,” Stacia said, as much in awe of the fabulous silk as Zaira. “He’d absolutely flip if you used this stuff for his robe.”

“There’s an added plus, too,” Janeltis said. “It’s virtually indestructible. And it renders a garment indestructible as well.”

Zaira was clearly tempted by the wondrous thread and chewed her lip. “This stuff is expensive, isn’t it?” she said softly.

“Normally, you wouldn’t be able to find it for less than five gold a skein—“

“Five gold per skein?” Zaira nearly choked on the price.

“But since I didn’t pay nearly that much, and I can’t think of a better person to give the lot to, I’ll just let you have it for what I paid for it.”

“But—“

“No buts. I got the whole lot for fifteen gold.”

“Janeltis, I can’t—“

“You can and you will. There’s no one else I know that would be able to work the miraculous things with this thread. No one else can do it justice. I either sell it to you, or it just sits here in the dark where no one can see it.”

Zaira looked like she was going to protest again, but was stopped by her friend. “Zaira, stop while you’re ahead,” Stacia said, nudging her.

Reluctantly, Zaira nodded. “But only if you let me pay you twenty gold.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Zaira,” Janeltis said with a grin. “Done.”

Visibly excited, Zaira counted out her precious coins. Janeltis slipped the cover on the crate and handed it to Zaira. “Here you go.”

Taking it, Zaira fairly beamed at the other woman. “Thank you! This is going to be perfect. I’ve got to get back and start working on this if I want it done by the time we leave!” She headed out of the storage room when Janeltis stopped her with a hand on her arm.

“You’re leaving? For good?”

Nodding, Zaira turned back to the witch-woman. “Yes. Both of us—with Gaavan.”

“Gaavan?”

“Her admirer,” Stacia said with a sly grin.

The herb-woman looked at Zaira closely before smiling widely. “He takes good care of you, doesn’t he?”

Shocked, Zaira could only nod. “How—“ she stammered when she finally found it.

“You’re not so thin any more, and you haven’t come to me for a healing spell in weeks. Yes, I had noticed.” She gave Zaira’s shoulder a quick squeeze because the crate the girl was holding precluded anything more. “Take care of yourself,” she said as she gave Stacia a brief hug. “And take care of each other, understand?”

They nodded, assuring her that they would, and slipped out of the shop, Zaira loaded down with the crate full of magical thread.

* * *

Grinning to himself, Gaav wandered back to his room as he rubbed his hair dry in a towel. One thing he would never get tired of: Hot baths. Human bodies were so nice for experiencing tactile sensation and there wasn’t anything better than a nice, hot bath—well, maybe there were a couple things better than a hot bath, but not many. The only problem was his hair; it took forever to get it dry. Of course, he could use a little of his power and it would be dry in an instant, but he was thinking of getting Zaira to help him dry it tonight.

Grinning, he nodded to himself as he made plans for a nice evening with the girl that included her brushing out his hair, maybe a little close cuddling, and perhaps getting a better look at her without her clothes on. His grin widened to a huge smirk at that thought.

The smirk turned immediately into a wary frown as he neared his room and saw the door to Zaira’s room standing open just a bit. He listened a moment, but didn’t hear anything except a strange scratching noise. He put his hand flat on the door and pushed it open gently—only to jump backwards as a gray paw shot out from under the door and snagged his bare foot with needle-sharp claws.

“Hey—OW!” he shouted and shoved the door open all the way. “That damn cat snagged my foot!“ he shouted as he limped into the room. “Why don’t you learn to control your cat—“ He broke off in mid-sentence as he realized the only one in the room besides himself was the cat, who had jumped to the top of the wardrobe and was now hissing down at him. “Yeah, same to you,” Gaav muttered as he looked around, took a step backwards into the hall and pushed open the door to his room. Empty as well. Turning back around, he stuck a foot out to keep Stacia’s cat (what was the damned thing’s name again?) from dashing out into the hallway. The thing skidded to a stop with a god-awful howl, turned around and jumped back to the top of the wardrobe where he turned and rewarded Gaav with a string of feline obscenities and a deathglare. Curling his upper lip at the cat, he shut the door behind him (so Stacia couldn’t complain about him letting her damned cat out), crossed the hall and quickly got dressed.

He was just brushing out his hair and gathering it up to put the binding ring in it when he heard a commotion outside in the hallway. “No, Derry, I told you I’m not coming back. That’s final!” Zaira’s voice ended on a sharp upward note and a crash.

Nonchalantly, Gaav stepped to his door and pulled it open as if he were expecting Zaira to arrive at that moment. “Hello, Zaira,” he said, taking in the weasel-like Derry and the two toughs that accompanied him. “Get what you needed?”

She looked up at him in surprise but covered it well. She righted the crate and stood up, with Stacia at her side, and faced Derry squarely. “In fact, I did, Gaavan. I would have been back sooner, but Derry and his friends here just don’t seem to know how to take no for an answer.”

“You can’t do this to me, Zaira!” Derry snarled and the toughs behind him gripped the knives they wore stuck in their belts tightly. Gaav noticed and leaned against the doorframe to stare down at them. Nothing overtly threatening, but just enough to let them know that he was ready for anything they tried to do.

“Just what is it that she can’t do, Derry?” he asked.

The tavernkeeper glared up at the taller man. “You. This is all your fault. Things were perfect before you came and messed everything up.”

Gaav just gave him a look that said, “Izzat so?”

Swallowing hard, Derry continued on his tirade. “Before you showed up, she knew her place. She knew how to behave: Properly subservient—“

Pushing against the door, Gaav drew himself up to his full height. “I’ve heard enough.”

“I’m not finished!” Derry sputtered indignantly. “She can’t just leave me like this! What am I going to do to provide entertainment for my guests?”

Grabbing a handful of his shirt, the taller man lifted Derry off the floor and let him dangle at least a foot off the ground. The toughs shifted nervously, knowing they should do something, but neither wanting to start anything with the taller, more powerful man.

“She can and she will. She will never set foot in that place again if I have anything to say about it. As for your guests, I don’t give a shit. You attract the lowest scum in the town; I’m sure they’ll be just as easily amused by seeing your fat head on a pole—which is what will happen if you don’t get it out of here. Now.” He set Derry on his feet and moved between him and Zaira.

One of Derry’s toughs grabbed the little man by the shoulder and pulled him back. “C’mon, Derry. Let’s not cause trouble. Not here.” He glared at Gaav, but between the two of them, they pulled the tavernkeeper along the hallway, then they were gone.

Gaav turned and looked at Zaira, who despite having put up a brave front, looked a little pale and shaken. “You okay?” he asked.

She nodded and heaved a deep sigh. “Jerk,” she muttered.

“How’d he get up here anyway?” he asked, moving to take the crate from her.

“Uh, he caught us in the street and followed us and no, I’ve got it,” she said, stepping backward away from Gaav, coming up hard against the door. Stacia reached around behind her and opened the door so they could slip inside.

“What—“

“Nothing, really. I’ll be right back.” Stacia shut the door in his face to leave him standing in the hallway, staring at the blank wood. He was just about to raise his hand and knock when it opened in front of him and Zaira stepped out. “Sorry. Just…had to take care of something, that’s all.”

“What?” he asked crossly.

“Uh…Women things.”

“Oh.” With that, Gaav dropped the subject.

“I’m hungry. Shall we go get something to eat?”

“Sounds like a great idea.” He looked over her shoulder at the closed door. “What about your mouthy—your friend?”

Zaira smiled at his slip. “I’ll ask.” She turned and opened the door slightly. “Stacia? You want to come get something to eat with us?”

“No, I’m not very hungry. I’ll get something later. You two go on and have fun,” he heard Stacia say from inside.

“Okay. I’ll be back soon.”

“Take your time. I won’t wait up.”

“Stacia!” Zaira pulled back abruptly and shut the door, her face flaming red.

Gaav chuckled softly to himself. “Come on,” he said. “I know a nice place to eat. Good service, good food and good beer.”

“Lead on,” she said with a smile, though her cheeks were still burning. Gaav put his arm around her and guided her out of the inn.

* * *

“What are you going to do?” Stacia asked.

Zaira sat in the chair by her window with the strong sunlight shining down on the expanse of black silk that covered her lap. She ran her hand over the silk and watched it shimmer in the stark light. “I…I’m not sure yet,” Zaira said. Sighing, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose; the glare was good for working but it tended to make her eyes sore.

“Well, you’ve got to do something,” the other girl said. “It’s a nice robe—of course it is, I made it—but it…needs something.”

“I know. But what?” Zaira reached down into the crate and pulled out a skein of the red ka’zekai silk. She laid it across the silk and spread it out. It burned like fire against the black backdrop. She added a skein of gold next to it and one of orange after that. She turned them this way and that, trying to get an image in her mind of what she wanted to work on the robe, but nothing was working. Finally, in frustration, she stood up, dumped the robe on the pallet. “This is so frustrating!” she snapped, throwing the skeins of silk down on top of it. “I can’t think of anything!” Huffing, she pushed her hair out of her face and paced angrily back and forth.

“Calm down, Zaira,” Stacia said, not looking up from the mending she was doing. Remy was hiding under her chair and peeked out at Zaira as she paced, his eyes wide with interest. As she passed him, he reached out and tried to catch the hem of her caftan, snagging a claw in it in the process.

“What—Oh, Remy!” she said, feeling the tug on her skirt. “What are you doing, you silly cat?” She bent down to try and help him unhook himself, but he only pulled back further under the chair.

“What did he do?” the dark-haired girl asked, looking down.

“He snagged me and now he’s stuck. Come here, you rotten cat!”

“Hey, don’t talk to Remy like that!”

“He won’t let go and he won’t let me get him!” There was a hiss from the shadow under Stacia’s chair followed by a deep growl.

“Remy!” Stacia scolded, scooting her chair forward to try and catch the cat. He howled, jerked his paw and finally came free of Zaira’s skirt, dodging past her in the process.

“Ah!!” Zaira went flying backwards, surprised and unbalanced by his sudden passage. She fell backwards and knocked the crate holding the ka’zekai silk over, spilling the skeins onto the puddle of black silk lying on the pallet.

“You naughty cat!” Stacia scolded again, getting up and going after him as he retreated to the top of the wardrobe. She looked back over her shoulder at Zaira. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, I am,” the red-haired woman said as she sat up, rubbing her thigh were it had connected with the corner of the crate. “Ow… Gaavan’s right. He is a psycho cat.”

“Oh, he is not…” Stacia finally managed to coax Remy off the top of the wardrobe. He jumped into her arms and mewed pitifully.

“He is.” Zaira sat up and righted the crate. She put her hand down to gather up the skeins when something stopped her. She looked at the scatted bundles of silk, then pulled a few around to change the pattern a little. Another push and an image snapped into place in her mind. “I’ve found it…” she said.

“Found what?” the other girl asked, holding Remy in her arms.

“What I’m going to work on this robe.” Zaira scooped the silk up, dumping it back into the crate.

“What?”

“A dragon.”

“A dragon?” The other girl smiled. “Yeah, that’ll look great.”

Zaira nodded, pulling up the silk and fitting it into the standing hoop by her chair. “And I’m going to have to get cracking on it if I want to finish it before we leave.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to do that? We only have five days left.”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“Then get working, girl!” Stacia put Remy on the floor and threw the green sock at him.

Zaira smiled and threaded her needle. “I am! Lock the door, would you? I don’t want Gaavan bursting in and seeing this.”

“Sure thing.” Stacia did as she was asked. Zaira, however, didn’t hear her as she set to work on embroidering the design she’d seen in the spilled silk.

She worked steadily all through the day with hardly a break. The first sketchy outlines of the sinuous dragon in shades of glowing red and orange appeared as if by magic upon the black silk. By the time the sun had begun to go down beyond the great desert beyond the city, the dragon’s head, neck and front legs had appeared, looking ready to leap from the material.

“Oh my,” she said as she sat back and looked at her handiwork.

“What?” Stacia came over to look. “Wow, girl! You did all that this afternoon?”

Zaira nodded. “I did…” She ran her hand over the stitching, watching how the ka’zekai silk reflected the light of the candle that Stacia had lit some time ago.

“You keep that up, you’ll have it finished in plenty of time.” The dark-haired girl looked at it a moment then grinned suddenly. “If this is even half as amazing as I think it’s going to be, Gaavan’s gonna wet himself when he sees it.”

Zaira stifled a giggle at that thought. “Maybe.”

“Maybe nothing. He is. That’s going to be gorgeous.” A pause, then she added, “And it’s going to look damn good on him, too. The black suits him. And the red dragon. Don’t tell him I said that, though.”

“I won’t—“ Zaira was interrupted by a knock on the door. “Oh, gods, that’s him! Quickly! Give me something to cover this!” Stacia caught up a shirt she’d been mending and Zaira draped it over the hoop before hurrying to the door to open it to reveal Gaavan standing in the hallway outside. “There you are,” he grumbled. “’Bout time you opened the door. Thought I was going to starve standing out here in the hallway.”

“I’m sorry, Gaavan,” she said, going into his arms and hugging him around the waist. “I was busy.”

“Yeah, she was busy,” Stacia said, coming up behind her friend.

“Busy with what?” he asked, ignoring Stacia.

“A…uh…one last commission I promised to finish before I left.”

He didn’t seem too pleased with that. “Why did you do that? You know that if you need money I’d—“

“I’m not doing it for the money, Gaavan,” she said softly, hooking her arm in his and leading him down the hallway towards the common room with Stacia trailing along behind them. “This is for a friend. One that means a lot to me.”

“Well…” he muttered. “All right. Just as long as you understand—“

“I do,” she said, squeezing his arm. “And I appreciate it. Really, I do.” She looked up at him with her bright eyes. “And thank you.”

He grinned at her and nodded. “No problem. I enjoy it.”

Behind them came a groan. “Stop it, would you? You’re going to make me vomit.”

Zaira had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as Gaavan stiffened. “Come on,” she said, pulling him away. “Let’s get something to eat. I’m starved.” She looked over her shoulder at Stacia and winked at her friend.

Stacia grinned and winked back. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

Slayers copyright 1991-2000 by Hajime Kanzaka/Rui Araizumi/Kadokawa Shoten/TV TOKYO/SOFTX/Marubeni.
The other characters copyright Wendy W Lee.