From the Desk of Honor Raconteur
Midnight Quest Epilogue
“Wifey, where be you?” Rialt called.
Jewel sat back on her heels, carefully resting her soiled hands away from her dress. She had managed to plant a whole row of potatoes in their backyard before her husband had noticed her absence. This was remarkable progress compared to yesterday, when she had barely been able to pull out the tools before he came looking for her.
“Here!” she called back in resignation.
She could hear his quick strides as he came out of the house and onto the back porch. “Back at it, eh?”
“We need to plant everything before it starts outgrowing the pots,” she pointed out dryly. “And I was under this mistaken impression that there couldn’t possibly be any emergencies this early in the morning.”
“Well, it be no an emergency yet.” His voice sounded calm enough, but a suspicious timber of amusement underlay the words.
Yet? Jewel didn’t like the sound of that at all.
It had been nearly two months since they’d returned to Denzbane. In that time, Jewel had found her footing in her new home, more or less. Her sisters-in-law had welcomed her with open arms and a great deal of relief. Apparently, Calio’s joke about no woman being daft enough to marry Rialt had not exactly been a joke. They’d all been worried what he would bring home with him one day. Jewel could rather see the worry—the man had a bad habit of jumping into trouble and enjoying every minute of it. The only reason why he curbed this bad habit was because of her.
Her new family showed her the ropes of living in the city and explained the more interesting quirks of Ramathan culture. They also took her shopping on those occasions when Rialt and Chizeld joined up with the city militia to train.
Jewel had quickly fallen into a pattern of working around the house in the morning, and then going to the crystal in the afternoon to raise its power level. But for some reason, in the past month, people had assumed that because she was “only” in charge of the crystal, that she had all of this free time to help with their problems as well.
So it was without any surprise on her part that she asked, “So, who wants a piece of me now?”
“The City Council.”
On sheer instinct she vehemently said, “No.”
Rialt snorted. “I knew you would say that.”
“The last time that I was embroiled in politics, it nearly got me killed,” she continued heatedly. “A High Priestess of Elahandra has absolutely no business messing with a clan’s politics. No.”
“I told ‘em you would say so,” he assured her, “but they insisted I ask.”
“You asked.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a stubborn gesture of defiance. “It’s still no.”
“On a different note,” he crossed to her and sank down to kneel and confer in a conspiratorial manner, “a certain sister of mine wants to know if Chizeld has been claimed yet.”
For a split second, she didn’t understand what he meant. “Oh! Claimed as in, attached to a woman?”
“Eh, that. I told her I did no know—she be quite mad at me for no knowing—but I thought you would.”
“Because I’m a woman?” she responded dryly, almost rhetorically.
“Women keep track of these things,” he stated in amusement.
Well, he was right. She did, in fact, know. But before she answered… “Is this question out of curiosity’s sake or is she asking because she really wants the answer to be ‘no?’ For that matter, which sister is this?”
“Jewel!” a familiar voice called from the front of the house.
Rialt blew out an irritated breath. “Speak of the man and he appears…” Raising his voice he called, “Back here, Chizeld!”
“He sounds a little out of breath,” Jewel observed in concern. “I hope this isn’t serious.”
Chizeld crossed around to the back of the house at a quick lope. “Ah,” he said in relief. “City Councilmen are asking for attendance. Said meeting would start in a half hour.”
“I’m not going.” Jewel bit off each word distinctly.
“Errr…” he slowed to a stop in front of her. “But priestess normally sits on the council.”
“Historically, were we ever called to be involved in politics?” she demanded.
“Well, no….”
“Then we’re not going to continue with bad habits.” She took off her gardening gloves and slapped them to the ground. “I’ll go to that meeting, alright, just so I can knock some heads together. The high priestesses of this generation will not be involved in politics.”
As she marched for the house, to change into a more presentable dress, she could hear Rialt mutter to Chizeld, “The last time I saw that look on her face, she faced down the gods and gave them a proper scolding.”
Chizeld seemed to find this funny as he chuckled. “Then doubt mere mortals will stand a chance. This should be fun to watch.”
“Eh, no doubt,” Rialt agreed with evil relish.
“If that’s your attitude, you two can stay home!” she called over her shoulder. “Bort, come! We’ve business to attend to.”
“Wifey, where be you?” Rialt called.
Jewel sat back on her heels, carefully resting her soiled hands away from her dress. She had managed to plant a whole row of potatoes in their backyard before her husband had noticed her absence. This was remarkable progress compared to yesterday, when she had barely been able to pull out the tools before he came looking for her.
“Here!” she called back in resignation.
She could hear his quick strides as he came out of the house and onto the back porch. “Back at it, eh?”
“We need to plant everything before it starts outgrowing the pots,” she pointed out dryly. “And I was under this mistaken impression that there couldn’t possibly be any emergencies this early in the morning.”
“Well, it be no an emergency yet.” His voice sounded calm enough, but a suspicious timber of amusement underlay the words.
Yet? Jewel didn’t like the sound of that at all.
It had been nearly two months since they’d returned to Denzbane. In that time, Jewel had found her footing in her new home, more or less. Her sisters-in-law had welcomed her with open arms and a great deal of relief. Apparently, Calio’s joke about no woman being daft enough to marry Rialt had not exactly been a joke. They’d all been worried what he would bring home with him one day. Jewel could rather see the worry—the man had a bad habit of jumping into trouble and enjoying every minute of it. The only reason why he curbed this bad habit was because of her.
Her new family showed her the ropes of living in the city and explained the more interesting quirks of Ramathan culture. They also took her shopping on those occasions when Rialt and Chizeld joined up with the city militia to train.
Jewel had quickly fallen into a pattern of working around the house in the morning, and then going to the crystal in the afternoon to raise its power level. But for some reason, in the past month, people had assumed that because she was “only” in charge of the crystal, that she had all of this free time to help with their problems as well.
So it was without any surprise on her part that she asked, “So, who wants a piece of me now?”
“The City Council.”
On sheer instinct she vehemently said, “No.”
Rialt snorted. “I knew you would say that.”
“The last time that I was embroiled in politics, it nearly got me killed,” she continued heatedly. “A High Priestess of Elahandra has absolutely no business messing with a clan’s politics. No.”
“I told ‘em you would say so,” he assured her, “but they insisted I ask.”
“You asked.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a stubborn gesture of defiance. “It’s still no.”
“On a different note,” he crossed to her and sank down to kneel and confer in a conspiratorial manner, “a certain sister of mine wants to know if Chizeld has been claimed yet.”
For a split second, she didn’t understand what he meant. “Oh! Claimed as in, attached to a woman?”
“Eh, that. I told her I did no know—she be quite mad at me for no knowing—but I thought you would.”
“Because I’m a woman?” she responded dryly, almost rhetorically.
“Women keep track of these things,” he stated in amusement.
Well, he was right. She did, in fact, know. But before she answered… “Is this question out of curiosity’s sake or is she asking because she really wants the answer to be ‘no?’ For that matter, which sister is this?”
“Jewel!” a familiar voice called from the front of the house.
Rialt blew out an irritated breath. “Speak of the man and he appears…” Raising his voice he called, “Back here, Chizeld!”
“He sounds a little out of breath,” Jewel observed in concern. “I hope this isn’t serious.”
Chizeld crossed around to the back of the house at a quick lope. “Ah,” he said in relief. “City Councilmen are asking for attendance. Said meeting would start in a half hour.”
“I’m not going.” Jewel bit off each word distinctly.
“Errr…” he slowed to a stop in front of her. “But priestess normally sits on the council.”
“Historically, were we ever called to be involved in politics?” she demanded.
“Well, no….”
“Then we’re not going to continue with bad habits.” She took off her gardening gloves and slapped them to the ground. “I’ll go to that meeting, alright, just so I can knock some heads together. The high priestesses of this generation will not be involved in politics.”
As she marched for the house, to change into a more presentable dress, she could hear Rialt mutter to Chizeld, “The last time I saw that look on her face, she faced down the gods and gave them a proper scolding.”
Chizeld seemed to find this funny as he chuckled. “Then doubt mere mortals will stand a chance. This should be fun to watch.”
“Eh, no doubt,” Rialt agreed with evil relish.
“If that’s your attitude, you two can stay home!” she called over her shoulder. “Bort, come! We’ve business to attend to.”
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