262 The Magician 20 (2/2)

The deep elf nearly rolled his eyes. ”Put on an act all you want. The truth is, I'm owed service, right? You're probably not even a real person.”

The woman's eyes grew large and glassy with barely held tears.

”I'm no less a person than you are,” a bit of a warble entered her voice as she continued, ”Here's a sketch of what I know of this place's layout and a path beyond it to a road traders pass through. And this world is full of people, just so you know. Basic and cheating but THAT is the 'service' you're OWED.”

The connection between them had far from disappeared but she hadn't lied. She had bought herself enough leeway to walk away from him and that's what she did. He dumbly watched her get farther away until she turned down a corridor. The realization crashed down that he was alone again and was certain that she wasn't going to return.

Still feeling weak and queasy, he was galvanized into action. Within moments, he was caught up to where she was walking carefully around a set of pressure plates in the floor.

”That's it?” he said to her.

The woman looked at him with dull eyes and said, ”No. If you are hurt or in dire need and I fail to help you, the debt between us will strike at my existence until it erases me or it's used up. But you know what? I'd rather be erased than forced to follow around an a**hole.”

There weren't many different types of tricks and manipulations that hadn't been used on the man before at one time or another. She wasn't bluffing. He'd seen that look on some slave's face right after they had found a way to end their misery.

He snorted. ”A few cross words and you're ready to go kill yourself. If you're that WEAK, I doubt you'd be of much use to me anyway.”

As she continued to make her way around the plates, she said in a saccharine voice, ”Don't worry you pretty little head over this weak woman, then. I'm resolved to live as I please until it kills me. Suit yourself.”

Annoyed, he said, ”Unless you know something I don't, it's not possible to leave this place, just like that. If the dead doppelganger isn't proof enough, I don't know what is.”

She replied, ”There's a room not far away with a broken teleport gate in it. I think I can use it... to do something. If your ego is small enough to stuff back into your pants, the device you have on you can make that easier but I'll be damned if I'm going to beg you to come. I'll take my chances alone if I have to.”

With a permanent scowling face dangerously close to cracking a smile, the deep elf said, ”I don't believe I'm the one with an ego too large to fit in my undergarments. You'd rather die than clear up some confusion for me.”

The woman turned so fast that she wobbled dangerously close to pushing a lethal pressure plate down. ”Oh, there's no confusion. The very moment you though you might be able, you tried to put me in my place or at least sit on my head. I got three words for you. Oh, hell no.”

Faint amusement fading quickly, the deep elf followed closely behind as he whispered, ”There are golems close by. The sound of a voice could activate them... What ill fate was I born under? I faced near certain death to run away from a place where women controlled my life. And now, I have to place my life in the hands of one who's supposed to listen to my orders but would rather commit suicide first.”

With a mischievous smile, she said, ”Fate's a cruel mistress.”

”Indeed. My name is Deacon,” he said while trying a friendly smile on for size.

He ended up looking like someone had shanked him in the kidney.

”I, uh, I'm Wren,” she said, sounding unsure.

Deacon resisted the urge to sigh and said, ”Whenever you're ready, I'd like to have your real name someday.”

”Well, you see. I just named myself because I'm reborn and wasn't actually given one,” she said.

He said, ”Perhaps you'd let me name you, then. I have-”

Her menacing glare cut his original thought off. ”Wren's a... good name.”

Silence descended between the two. She wanted to defrost things but she had came on so strong, she didn't know how to back down in a way that wouldn't get him acting snobby again. On his part, he had 'compromised' so much already, it was hard to bend any further.

Soon enough, they had reached their destination and Wren had more important things to worry about than friendly communication. Using the slow and costly mending ability to piece the gate fragments together, she started fatiguing fairly quickly. They had nearly spent an entire day in silence, slowly getting more and more hungry.

”It's good that you can make water... And that's appreciated but... can your patron provide sustenance? We're far from dying but if we're too weak to defend ourselves... I don't want to die to some small and avoidable thing after surviving so much,” Deacon whispered.

She replied tiredly, ”I'm hungry too but I can spend a day or so piecing together how to do that or finish preparing this gate for travel in a few hours.”

He asked, ”What are the most likely of destinations?”

”More of the same, I'm afraid. It's got to be a real ruin that's already been trashed, though. Right? Otherwise, this place should have been... I don't really know for sure. Such an important place, how many can there be and how huge are the chances that its an undiscovered one like this place?” she said.

Thinking it over for minute, Deacon said, ”Work on tangible gains first... please.”

Mildly depressed, she sat down to meditate and piece together a working model for creating the edible paste a body recognized as food but the tongue protested most assuredly was not. Among the possible personality flaws that Deacon might possess, impatience wasn't one of them. It was a tedious day's worth of doing nothing but he didn't let out the slightest of protests or encouragements.

The moment she had produced a large handful of the paste, they ate it with grim determination. There wasn't much of a sense of accomplishment that should accompany such a relief but it was so lacking in enjoyment that there was nothing BUT the relief left in the act. Aside from imminent starvation being avoided, there was a concern that Wren addressed whether it made Deacon's approval or not.

Slipping off to a dark corner on the safer side of the room, she summoned some water and scrubbed herself down before wicking the water away. It was surprisingly effective and the results were better than the degree shift version in her memories. Feeling refreshed, she redressed and donned the over robe that rested in her seat of consciousness.

Rejoining Deacon, she noticed a loose and weird smile on the deep elf's face. ”What has you so happy all of a sudden?”