The Prince's Mark

Chapter Thirteen

The Zeibr brought Tracou over to their horses, which were bigger than any he had seen before. The stout man had to help Tracou onto one. It was the boy's horse and Tracou got to watch as he clambered onto the horse by himself. Humiliating. The boy chattered a mile a minute once they were moving, somehow under the impression that Tracou could understand him. Tracou awkwardly made noises that indicated that he was listening until the boy asked a question, at which point Tracou didn't say anything. Only then did the boy understand.

When they arrived in the Zeibr encampment and dismounted, the boy made that up and down gesture again and started to walk. Tracou followed him.

Mainly children and the elderly inhabited the camp, at least at this time of day. They watched Tracou and the boy amble through the camp with an impressively mild curiosity. Seeing dezmek must not have been rare.

Instead of houses, they had set up round structures that looked like they might blow away in a strong wind. Each structure was covered in sturdy cloth with a brilliant, solid color. They stood in a semicircle, surrounding a makeshift fire pit. The boy led Tracou to a yellow structure. A white cloth hung in front of the entrance. With a face showing confidence beyond reason, the boy marched inside. Tracou followed him, hoping that this wasn't rude.

It was dark inside. Tracou could feel his pupils adjust, shifting from their daytime needles to fuller ovals. There was a place for two people to sleep as well as an area to keep some essentials. A few colorful toy horses and dolls stood against a wall.

A man with gray hair sat in the tent, a young child on his knee. He wore the same type of clothing the stout man did. As Tracou hovered in the entryway, the boy said something to the man, causing him to look up. He had the same serpentine eyes as Tracou

Brimming with pride, the boy said something else to Tracou and trotted away.

"So you're a lost dezmek, are you?" the other dezmek said in Dezmerian, smiling gently. "Come, sit down."

Tracou glanced around, spotted a pillow on the ground, and sat. Carpet covered the floor, but it was thin from extended use.

"My name is Skender. What's your name?"

"Ah, I'm Tracou."

This Skender appeared to be at least a decade older than Tracou was. He had a soothing presence, possibly amplified by the fact that he was taking care of a child. His eyes pulled down at the outer corners. Compared to the stout man and the other Zeibr, Skender was small and weak, just like Tracou.

Even at a glance, Zeibr and dezmek were obviously different—the Zeibr were stocky humans, on average taller than dezmek. Both had similar skin tones, with the darkest Zeibr and dezmek alike only arriving at an olive color. Skender was like a blue bird among jaybirds—he might blend in on a cursory look, but his size and shape betrayed him.

"Such white hair! Are you from the eastern part of Dezmer?"

"Yes, I'm from a village along the coast."

"That's far. How did you get here?"

"I—... It's a long story."

"I see. Are you hungry? Now that everyone's back, they should be preparing a meal."

"That would be great."

The small child, annoyed that attention had shifted away from them, squirmed in Skender's lap. The child had Skender's eyes. Unlike Skender, though, they had mousy brown hair.

"This is my daughter," Skender explained. "Isn't she cute?"

"Oh... yes, very."

It had been a long time since Tracou had seen someone so young—usually he kept away from that sort of thing. Still, the child was small and pudgy and that was obviously cute.