Healer of Sakkara

Chapter 5 - Unwelcome

Despite Harrald's concerns and the revelation that he might be mage-born, Galen continued to train with Triss. As far as he could see, being able to defend himself was even more important now that he understood the danger.

The minor injuries he sustained gave him a chance to practice, too. If he had magic, as Harrald claimed, maybe he could learn to use and control it. The problem was he had no idea where to begin.

None of the books he owned contained anything useful, and there was no one in Dern he could ask—especially as rumors of magic continued to swirl. While shopping for vegetables in the market, Galen overheard gossip of 'mage-folk' being expelled from a smaller town downriver from Dern, and whispers of another witch killed in Galos.

"That won't happen here, though," Behn said confidently one afternoon, as he, Triss, and Galen walked back to town from another training session. There'd been another tremor that morning, though a very minor one, and the topic was fresh on their minds. "Dern's not like that."

Triss scoffed and tossed her thick red braid over her shoulder. "That's what everyone says. 'We're different. We'd never. Not here.' It's bullshit. People in Dern are no different from people anywhere else, and in the same situation, they'll act the same."

"But there are no mages in Dern," Behn argued. "Unless you count the Naqqiri fortune-tellers on Trader's Lane."

Galen said nothing. At first, he'd been eager to tell his friends what he'd learned of his past and possible heritage; they had few, if any, secrets between them, and he trusted them both with his life. After hearing the gossip in the market, though, he'd changed his mind. If magic meant trouble, he didn't want them getting dragged into it.

Triss rolled her eyes. "That's where it will start; but believe me, that's not where it will end. If people want to find witches, they will."

But, as they descended a set of narrow stone steps, taking a shortcut to their favorite lunch spot, they saw that the argument was moot.

It seemed the Naqqiri fortune-tellers, as well as a good portion of the rest of Trader's Lane, shared Triss's lack of faith in the good people of Dern. The usually bustling street was deserted, and most of the shops were closed, with windows and doors boarded up. In just the few days since they'd last visited, almost everyone who wasn't a born and bred Thrynian had packed up and left—much to Behn's distress, as they stood outside the Yuthi dough-ball shop and found that it, too, was closed.

"Aw, turd-biscuits," he moaned, peering in through the small, thick panes of dirty glass to the darkened interior. "I was really craving the spicy ones, too. Now what will we eat?"

"Good hearty Thrynian food, like everyone else," Triss said, and led the way back up the street to the more 'reputable' parts of town.

"I mean, I love me some pasties and stew," Behn said, trailing along dejectedly at Galen's side, scuffing his feet on the rough cobbled stones. "But you can't beat Yuthi spices for flavor. Pyrran food's good, too, actually. So is Abarran, and Edraxi—except for all the raw fish. Those puffed rice things are delicious, though."

Galen half listened as Behn listed all the foods he liked (it was a long list) and Triss led the way up the sloping streets to a small inn. It wasn't known for its fine cuisine, but the fare was eclectic, and there was often more than one meat-free option from which Galen might choose. Inside, they found an empty table by a grimy window and sat. A menu, written in chalk on a small slate, leaned against the wall, and Behn picked it up and studied it.

"Hm... The broccoli-cheddar quiche doesn't sound bad," he said. "But the roast chicken with garlic sounds good, too. Or maybe the leek and potato soup, with bacon and fresh bread... What do you think, Gale?"