“Half a silver.”

Elanirya scowled at the man. She knew about the price game the humans liked to play, but she could not understand why they all had to play it. Nirya hated the game. Her annoyance was further enhanced because she was hungry and possessed less than what the vendor was offering.

“Two coppers,” she countered. The meat pie certainly was not worth an entire half-silver, especially since the vendor expertly dodged her questions of what sort of meat it contained. Truthfully she was beyond caring.

“Four and a half,” the man insisted, scratching his double chin. Elanirya doubted he had ever known hunger.

Nirya hesitated. She had expected him to drop the price by more than half a copper. The four coppers she had left weighed heavily on her belt and her stomach was rumbling meekly. The smell of the food was intoxicating.

“Three coppers,” she finally said.

“Done!” he agreed quickly.

Nirya passed him the three coppers and snatched the pie away from him.

“Let it cool down a bit first, lass,” the man said with a surprising amount of kindness. Maybe he was not so bad after all. “Don’t want t’ burn that pretty little mouth o’ yours.” He nodded curtly and turned away to haggle with another customer.

Nirya could barely heed the vendor’s advice as she walked away from the stall. Her too-empty stomach demanded the food immediately, but it was hot enough that she kept tossing it from one hand to the other to keep from burning herself.

What Mother would think of me now, she reflected as she walked down the crowded street. Here she was, smelly, grimy, and with only one penny to her name. She had already sold everything of value that she owned: all of her jewels and silks were gone forever because she had been naïve enough to let a peddler convince her that she was getting a good deal.

The importance of money had been a very unfamiliar idea to her. She had no idea that the humans used it for nearly everything: food, shelter, clothing, and even procreation! The either used coppers, silvers, and gold pieces or traded item for item. Nirya had nothing left but the clothes on her back, and she certainly was not going to part with those. It was difficult to find a job too. Nobody would hire her on account of the simple fact that she looked like a vagrant.

Not for the first time today she wondered if she should go home. Going home would be unpleasant--after what she had done--but it would be much better than having to live like this. She missed it terribly and felt a terrible despair and loneliness, for she was unable to even think of how to find her way back. They might even refuse to take her back if she managed to find her way.

Nirya pushed her thoughts away from such an unpleasant topic. She needed to think of what her next step should be--besides eating her pie. Surely there was more of her kind around somewhere. If only she could find them--they’d certainly help her!

I am their princess, after all, she thought smugly, yet self-doubt reared its head, but I’m not heir anymore, and they could’ve heard stories about what happened, Nirya sighed. Perhaps it would be best to stay away from them.

Elanirya adeptly avoided mud puddles as she walked down the street at a quick pace, trying to appear confident and ignore the penetrating stares of men and women alike. She had seen just what sort of things could happen to one such as her: alone and seemingly helpless.

A sudden commotion broke out among some men beside her as she walked by. Just as she turned to look, a man in a green outfit was flung in her direction. He slammed into her before she could react, causing Nirya to lose her balance and fall. Her meat pie went flying as she flung out her arms to break her fall. She stared in shock as the pie disappeared into the depths of a brown puddle with a sickening splash.

Pain shot through her knee as she hit the road. A sharp object--most likely a rock--tried to force itself through her skin. She ignored the pain and the laughter of the surrounding crowd. All she could do was stare at the spot where her food had disappeared.

Nirya was on the verge of tears, but they were quickly evaporated under the intense heat of her rising anger.

“It’s all his fault!” she heard herself yell. The man in green suddenly became the physical representation of all that had gone wrong--not just the lost food. Warmth flushed through her skin from the sudden, and still growing, rage. Nirya struggled to her feet, looking around for the man in green. Any man in green.

There he was. He and several other men, also dressed in solid colors, had another man surrounded and were doing their best to knock him senseless, or perhaps even kill him. The man in green’s notice was fixed upon his victim--the man in black. He did not notice her at all.

She was going to make him pay.

Nirya stretched her arm towards the man in green, pointing her index finger at his chest. She ignored the little voice in the back of her head trying in vain to remind her what she was about to do was highly illegal and certainly immoral.

A lance of flame jumped from her finger, sending familiar chills running up the length of her arm and ghosting through the rest of her body. It struck the green man square in the chest, causing her great satisfaction when he screamed and fell, burning alive. He tried rolling around in the mud, but the flames would consume until she willed them to stop.

There were other screams. Men, women, and children--those who had been laughing at her earlier--fled the streets in a great panicked mass. The man in black took advantage of his assailants’ confusion and renewed his attack by leaping high into the air and kicking a man, wearing deep blue clothing, in the head. The audible crunch of foot breaking skull snapped the remaining men out of their daze. Four men, a light blue, a red, a yellow, and a purple charged towards Nirya. The other three focused on the man in black.

Nirya scowled at the smell of burnt flesh that invaded her nostrils. Cooked human did not smell any better than any other kind of human. She managed to blast the first two assailants in the same manner as she had the man in green, but she was too slow to stop the other two from tackling her.

The pain she felt from biting her check was nowhere near as bad as what had been caused by her head impacting with the ground. One of her assailants held her legs firmly while the other restrained her arms.

“My, you’re a pretty little tart under all that filth,” the arm-restrainer said, smiling mischievously which showed off his extremely crooked and rotting teeth. She did have the satisfaction of hearing the other man grunt as she managed to connect her knee to what she assumed was his face, but almost regretted it half a heartbeat later, blinking back tears--that was the knee that landed on the rock.

Nirya struggled against the men, all to no avail. She was too unskilled to be able to manage a spell without the use of her arms and hands. Now she regretted shrugging off advanced lessoning.

“There’s a good reward for brining you magicians in, you know,” the man said as he changed his grip to hold both of her arms with one of his hands at Nirya’s wrists. “But maybe if you give us a little fun, we’ll let you go.” His other hand fondled her breast.

“Get off of me!” she screamed. Her heart thudded wildly from a combination of anger, fear, and pain. The man started to slide his hand under her shirt, but Nirya managed to summon all of her strength and heave upwards. Her forehead smacked onto the man’s nose. Nirya felt and heard a nauseating crunch. The man released his grip and stood up, clutching both hands to his nose.

It took Nirya a brief moment to recover from the hit to realize her arms were free.

“Raarrrgh!” she yelled, gesturing at the man. A gout of flame ten times as hot and bright as before sprang forward. His flesh melted straight off his bones as he crumpled to the ground without making a sound.

The man who had been holding her legs down had disappeared sometime while she was preoccupied with his partner. She looked over to the man in black. He had just managed to defeat the only remaining opponent. He looked around quickly before letting his eyes settle on Nirya. He was not panting for breath as Nirya was, nor did he look injured.

“Where is the other one?” he asked as he walked to where she lay.

“He got away,” Nirya said, wincing. Now that it was over, her injuries were reminding her of their existence quite vehemently. Her head throbbed considerably from hitting the ground and nearly overreaching her limits magically. The man in black made no move to harm her and she doubted she had enough left in her to do anything about it.

“Then we’d best get going,” he said as he helped Nirya to her feet.

“We? Going? But they’re gone,” she said. “I’m really sorry that the one got away, but I--well, I was angry. It’s the man in green’s fault! If it weren’t for him, then I’d have the pie but now I only have one penny and--”

“Let’s get out of town while we can,” the man interjected.

“Out of town?” Nirya disliked the sound of that. She was only just now managing to learn how to survive in the city and certainly was unprepared for the road. “I can’t. I have to find work so I can eat.” Her stomach rumbled.

“The man who escaped will likely spread your description around. It’s not safe for you to stay here,” he paused. “The use of any magical abilities is punishable by death here. If you do not come with me, then you will most likely end up captured.”

“Death?” she asked almost in a whisper. She knew magic was against the law, but death? “But--”

“And those were professional bounty hunters,” he continued. His voice was smooth and had a musical quality about it that reminded her of home.

“But, I can’t--” she managed before getting interrupted. How she hated that!

“I’ve money and provisions enough to get us to the next town, and from there we can get enough supplies to get us across the border. That is, if you decide to journey with me.”

Nirya had no trouble making up her mind then. Provisions meant food.

“Let’s go then,” she said quickly. He seemed to be taken aback by her sudden capitulation. She withheld the temptation to ask him if he had any food with him. He beckoned for her to follow him.

He stayed mainly to alleyways and near-deserted streets. The street toughs eyed them suspiciously, but evidently decided it was not worth the effort. The man in black took her places where it would assuredly have been suicidal for her to travel alone.

“I’m Elanirya,” she said. The silence between them had gotten to be unbearable. It had been much too long since she had anyone with which to talk.

“Elanirya,” he repeated. He was paying more attention to something besides her.

“You can call me Nirya,” she continued, desperately trying to strike up a conversation to distract her from her aches, pains, and extremely unhappy tummy.

“Nirya,” he said. “Right.”

“So who are you?” she asked, trying to force the annoyance from her voice.

“Lundan,” he said. “Nindh Lundan.”

“Nindh,” she said, letting the name roll off her tongue. “I like that.”

Nindh did not reply.

“So why were all those men after you?” she asked, her curiosity overcoming her manners. That tended to happen to her often, much to her mother’s dismay.

“They work for my former employer,” he said.

“Who was he?” she prodded.

“Who was who?” he asked.

“Your former employer,” she almost growled.

“The king,” he said.

Her heart leapt into her throat. Silly, she berated herself, he doesn’t mean Father. He was referring to the human king here, of course.

“We’re here,” Nindh said, walking into the stable of an inn. Nirya followed Nindh closely. The stableboys were looking at her in disgust. She wished for a long, hot bath, and nice clean clothes. Her hair was a greasy mess and she knew she smelled disagreeable.

Nindh led her to a stall with a large horse, pony, mule, or whatever occupying it. Elanirya was unable to tell the beasts apart from one another.

“Wait here. I’ll return shortly,” Nindh said, after checking the contents of his packs. He went inside the inn before she could say anything.

Nirya certainly was loath to follow him. The proprietor would take one look at her and toss her out onto the street. Nirya examined Nindh’s beast as she waited. It was taller than she and had massive dangerous-looking hooves larger than those she had ever seen on any creature.

She squealed, stomach lurching, when the beast turned its head towards her. Surely it would try to bite her, yet she found herself unable to react. The hoofed-thing sniffed several times, wuffed, and then turned back to its grain. Nirya wanted to go home.

After what felt like an eternity, Nindh finally emerged from the inn. He was carrying two small parcels, smiling faintly.

“What’re those?” Nirya asked, but before she finished talking she knew what they were from the smell: food. It smelled better than anything she had eaten in ages.

“It’s out--”

“When can we eat it?!” Elanirya had not been this excited about anything since before being exiled.

“We’ll eat as soon as we leave,” Nindh said.

“Can we leave now?”

“Now’s as good as any time,” Nindh chuckled. “Can you ride?”

“Er. Not exactly,” she said.

“Well, don’t you worry. She’s pretty big, but a good lady. Here,” Nindh moved to stand next to the beast. “I’ll give you a hand up.”

“I’d rather not,” she replied hastily. “I don’t think your--animal--likes me. I’ll just walk, thanks.”

“Fine by me,” Nindh sounded a little dejected. “I’d wager you aren’t used to hard traveling, so the offer still stands. Let’s head out.”

They met no trouble as they left the city, both traveling afoot and Nirya stuffing her face with a meat and vegetable pastry. Nirya thought the gate guards would give them trouble but barely glanced at Nindh and her. The guards probably were more focused on those entering the city rather than those who wished to leave.

For once in her life, Nirya was content with the silence. She had a full belly for the first time in months. As they walked, she began to enjoy it--aside from her knee, which yelped in agony with each step. They passed farms with plenty of barking dogs, waving children, and their parents who were just as friendly parents. The people in the countryside surrounding the city were extraordinarily friendlier than the people in the city itself. Nirya wondered if she should consider starting a life out here in the farmlands somewhere, but she had even less of an idea how to go about doing such a thing than she had with living in the city--and that said a great deal. Humans had a lifestyle so unfamiliar to her experiences she felt as though she would never be able to comprehend them.

At least Nindh did not smell as sickly-sweet as most of them did. Even after the fight and mildly brisk pace he set there was no sign of perspiration about him. Elanirya felt her face flush. Sweat dripped down, stinging her eyes, after mixing with the dirt on her forehead. She knew she was filthy and tried to ignore the thought of how badly she herself reeked. Her last bath had been--well, much too long ago.

Nirya knew she was getting tired, but was afraid to tell Nindh for fear he would leave her behind. She was oblivious to exactly how exhausted she was until they were well passed the fifth farmhouse, collapsing to the ground and reawakening all of her aches and pains--adding to them as well.

“I’m s-sorry,” she quivered, dazed, as Nindh knelt over her with a surprising amount of concern painting his face. Such a handsome face it was too.

“You aren’t to blame,” Nindh said quietly. “I should have noticed you were injured, but my thoughts were--elsewhere.” He paused for a moment, thoughts crinkling his brow. “We should go ahead and make camp. I imagine that we’re close enough to the city that we won’t have to worry about bandits.” He helped Nirya sit up. “Do you think you can make it over there if I helped you?” he asked, indicating a spot not too far away from the road.

“Yes,” she said with as much confidence as she could muster, although she doubted the steadiness of her legs.

With his help, she managed to keep her feet underneath her. “It’s the magic,” she realized out loud, “the effects of the energy drain don’t happen immediately. Although--I’ve never had it this bad before,” she admitted, clenching her teeth together as a wave of stomach-sickness and lightheadedness passed over her while Nindh eased her to the grass.

“I ought to have asked you sooner, but you did not appear to be suffering from any wounds,” Nindh began. “Are you wounded? Bleeding? We need to take care of it before infection sets in.”

“Just a few bruises and my left knee is scraped a little, I think,” she responded.

“How bad is the knee?” he asked, creasing his eyebrows curiously.

“It bled just a little,” she said after a moment’s thought. “The worst I got was a lump on my head,” she decided. Between the expenditure of energy and the lump, her head throbbed considerably.

“That’s odd,” Nindh mumbled. “I did not smell blood.” He raised his voice, “Wait here.”

He could smell blood? Nirya had not realized humans possessed such an ability. Well, she could smell blood as well, but not from a distance like she thought Nindh was implying.

Nindh returned with the horse, and returned to Nirya’s side bringing with him a jar filled with some foul-smelling, waxy substance.

Nirya squealed when he tried to lift her skirts.

“Oh, er,” Nindh blushed. “I’m going to have to get at your knee somehow, Elanirya.”

Nirya felt her own cheeks flush scarlet as well. Of course that was what he was doing. She needed to stop reacting and start thinking. “I guess I’m just jumpy still,” she managed to say.

Nindh smiled encouragingly, his brown eyes twinkling. He waited for Nirya to nod her approval before moving her skirts. He quickly arranged the fabric to expose her leg to a point above her knee. Nirya shivered as a chill sent goose pimples sprouting along the length of her bare leg. There was an awful lot of dry blood around her knee and covered the front of her shin almost all the way down to her ankle. The rock must have done a better job at splitting her skin than she previously assumed. Even now it oozed bloody, albeit slowly.

Nindh stared at her leg so intensely Nirya felt her cheeks grow warm again.

“Is there something wrong?” she squeaked.

“Yes,” he replied, shaking his head. “I mean, no. Just--I need to check something.” Suddenly a small slightly curved knife appeared in Nindh’s free hand. Before she knew what he intended, Nindh nicked his own arm and stared at the welling spot of blood. He took several deep breaths through his nose and muttered something to himself. Nindh leaned close to her knee; face just a scant distance away.

“Please,” Nirya begged. “I’m uncomfortable.”

Nindh cleared his throat and leaned back so suddenly she nearly squealed again. With a wet cloth he quickly and methodically cleaned out her wound, only cleaning away the dry blood that was closest to it.

The waxy substance was next. Nirya braced herself--she knew it was going to sting--as he scooped a handful of the stuff from the jar. Nirya hissed through gritted teeth, her eyes growing thick with mist. It did, indeed, sting. A feeling of immense relief shuddered throughout her entire being as he finished and covered her leg.

“Just sit here while I set up camp,” Nindh said neutrally, standing up. “Then I will ask you some questions and you will answer them truthfully. I do not know what I am involved in with you, but I am beginning to get an idea.”

He knows! Nirya panicked. He knows who I am! Nirya was frightened, yet tried to think of what she could do. She was exhausted. Any spell casting and escape attempt was simply out of the question. If these humans killed their own magicians then she hated to think of what they would do to a magician who was of her sort.

You’re being paranoid, she realized. Nindh had been a good companion so far--a little quiet most of the time, but still a good traveling companion nonetheless. If he had any ill intentions whatsoever then there was nothing stopping him from having already acted upon them.

Or would he? she thought, one doubt overrunning on top of another. Was he waiting until they were further away from the city?

Nirya continued to argue with herself. By the time Nindh had set up camp--bedrolls and a fire mainly--it was full dark. Nirya’s stomach was one gigantic hive of bees.

“Are you ready to talk?” Nindh asked, sitting down across the fire from her.

“Talk about what?” she asked, pouring every smidgen of innocence into her voice as was possible. Nirya had a feeling that Nindh could see right through the innocence act and her disguise--no, not just her disguise, but through her completely. It was unsettling.

“You know what I want to hear,” his normally musical voice was demanding and flat.

“I really don’t know--” she began.

“Who are you?” he blurted, completely ignoring her.

“But--I’m Elanirya. I told you that earlier.” Her thoughts hit a snag, for she had expected him to say “what” rather than “who.”

“Your real name!” Nindh commanded. “Tell me your real name.” The look on Nindh’s face frightened her fearfully--there was no expression of anger or mischief. It was completely neutral.

“But, I am Elanirya!” she protested vehemently. When he opened his mouth to say something else, she growled, “Elanirya Nessalin Elwelion. That’s my name!”

“Elwelion?” Nindh asked, clearly trying to puzzle something out.

“Yes!” Nirya was exasperated nearly to the point of tears. “Why can’t you humans hear the truth for what it is?!”

Nindh’s expression turned from confusion to thoughtful.

Nirya realized her mistake. Damn her fool tongue and temper! They always got her into trouble. She had better keep her mouth shut until she got herself complete control.

“No going to say more, are you?” Nindh harrumphed. “Well fine. Let me tell you what I have managed to piece together and then you can tell me if I’m right or wrong.” He paused. “I’m not going to hurt you, Elanirya Elwelion.”

She shook her head and avoided looking at his face even though his words rang true.

“Right,” he cleared his throat. “I found it odd that you appear the way you do: a magician in poverty. I assumed at first that it was a brilliant disguise, but things just failed to add together. Judging from the way you wolfed down your food earlier, I realized the beggar-girl look was far from an act.”

“I’m not a beggar,” she objected meekly.

“Well,” he continued, “you are more near being a beggar than anything else. But that is not my point. When I cleaned your knee I noticed that your clothing, excluding all the filth, is much too fine for even a wealthy merchant’s wife. So I developed the notion that you could be a runaway of some Lord--possibly even some Lady’s handmaiden. I expect you are the former more than the latter considering the way you conduct yourself. The magic still was not accounted for though. You have been trained and, if I am any judge of such matters, have quite a bit of strength. There is nowhere in this kingdom, nor any neighboring kingdoms where one could learn such devastating magicks. And then there’s your accent.”

“My accent?” Nirya queried softly. She had tried so desperately to speak in the same manner as the locals.

“Yes, the accent is good, but it’s not quite right,” Nindh explained. “There’s a faint lilt to your voice, but I have not been able to discern its origins. Now, I’ve never heard of a Lord Elwelion, so you must be from someplace far away from here. Another part of the enigma of Nirya has just now come clear to me.” He paused, looking at her expectantly.

“It was the blood, wasn’t it,” she whispered, fearing the conclusion he was inevitably going to reach.

“Indeed it was,” he said smugly. “Part of my training dealt extensively with enhancing all the senses--smell included.”

Oh, so not all humans have that particular ability, she apprehended.

“At first I had thought that perhaps you were masking the smell with a spell or some such, but it would have had to have been rather specific. I could not imagine why you would cast such a thing without, er,” he stopped suddenly, looking quite embarrassed.

“Without getting rid of the other smells,” she sighed. “I know I’m filthy, but there was nothing I could do about it.”

“Yes, well. The final piece of the puzzle fell into place just moments ago when you remarked about my inability to detect the truth,” he grinned. “Only sorcerers have that sort of ability and you obviously must have known that I am no such thing. You gave yourself away with that one.”

Nirya did not know what to say.

“So I am right, am I not?” he asked.

Still silence.

“Well?” he prompted.

She hesitated. The truth was pretty much out in the open, but hiding herself had become so much of a habit in the past couple months she found it difficult to admit anything. It had been so long since she had anyone to confide anything to.

“Are you, or are you not an elf?” he demanded.

“An elf?!” Nirya failed to restrain the giggles that bubbled up from nowhere.

“What’s funny?” he grumped.

“I’m not an elf, Nindh,” she said, managing to squelch most of her mirth. “I’m a faerie.”

“Faerie? But, but--” Nindh spluttered. “You’re so big!” he blurted.

Nirya’s laughed.

“And you don’t have wings!” Nindh insisted.

“It’s part of what we are, Nindh,” she tried to sound wise, but failed miserably. “We can look like humans if we want.”

“Show me,” Nindh demanded.

“I…I can’t,” she said, her amusement suddenly replaced with despair. Her heart ached just to think about it.

“Why not?” Nindh asked gently.

“That’s what they do,” Nirya explained, choking back tears, “when they exile someone.”

“Exile? But wh--”

“Please,” she interrupted. “I can’t talk about it. I did something I never should have. I regret it even then and still do. I tried to make it right, but we still have laws. And the law said I would be exiled or--or--” she was unable to continue and closed her eyes. Her throat became thick with grief.

“I will cook dinner,” Nindh said.

Nirya heard him stand and begin to rummage around through his packs. She kept her eyes closed, but it did not stop the tears from burning hotly as they slid down her face. How long she sat blind to the world she did not know.

“Here, eat this,” Nindh broke her out of her trancelike sorrow and forced her mind back to the present. “You’ll feel better after eating.”

Dinner turned out to be a large bowl of stew and a half loaf of bread. Both of them were silent throughout the meal. Nirya forgot her troubles as she savored the multitude of flavors and spices in the stew. It was nowhere near as good as the stews she was served at home, but it was the best human food she had ever eaten.

“Well, we should probably get some sleep,” Nindh said as he gathered up their dishes. “I’ll risk not setting a watch tonight. We should have a quiet night. We’re too close to the city for bandits yet, and the patrols will not be out looking for us. I had a friend of mine make sure that we are still thought to be within the city, hiding somewhere.”

Nirya climbed into the bedroll, marveling at Nindh’s sharp mind, for he seemed to think of everything. The ground was a little uneven, but it was warm--that was all that mattered.

“Tomorrow,” Nindh yawned, “you are going to learn how to ride, and I will tell you my tale. It’s only fair that I do.” As soon as he finished talking, he was snoring.

Nirya was not long in following his example.