Tarant: Resolution

[moonshadows]

Two apparent Panarii raised no eyebrows walking through the center of Tarant; Virgil led me up Kensington Broadway to the Panarii temple on Lion’s Head Circle, where he picked the lock on the back door and the store room. We hid our packs behind a dusty-looking crate, covered with our robes, and left looking as if we belonged in the rougher side of town. From Lion’s Head Circle we went down Low Dervish Row – which looked quite grand indeed after the Boil – and then all the way to the end of Quilton Bend, where Virgil rapped a specific pattern against the door. The finely-dressed man who answered – and what I could see of the house’s interior – could have come from one of the better neighborhoods.

“Virgil! Haven’t seen you in a bit. Come in, let’s not get the neighbors talking.” He waved us inside. “And who’s your lovely friend?”

Although he sounded genial, there was an unfriendly cast to his eyes and, still jumpy, I responded to the unspoken threat without thinking. “Vorak. I own his life.”

“And you’re welcome to it,” the man said, respect now replacing the unfriendliness.

“Thaddeus, this is Miss Clarisse Vorak. Miss Clarisse, Mr. Thaddeus Mynor of the Thieves’ Underground.”

I fought Vorak down out of respect for the note of nervousness in Virgil’s voice. “Charmed.”

“Likewise, I’m sure. What brings you here today, Virgil?”

My protector held out the oilskin bag. “Turning in a job. The Maug job.”

“The Ma-” Mynor eyed the bag. “You’re serious. You brought me the head of Damian Maug? I’d heard his gang just about wiped out Pollock’s. How did you get out alive?”

“Pollock may be dead by now,” I said. “The gang led an all-out assault at dawn.”

“Ah…Miss Clarisse and I have been…uh…in Maug’s pay, as it were.”

“No better way to get close to your enemy than by being his friend, eh? Very impressive. Let me just bring that to the kitchen for verification…don’t want it dripping on the rug…I’ll be right back.”

Mynor took the bag from Virgil and vanished deeper into his house, leaving us in the well-furnished sitting room. He came back looking deeply impressed a minute later. “That is absolutely the head of Damian Maug. You’ve earned yourselves ten thousand and the respect of every pickpocket and footpad in the Underground.” He pulled an amulet out of his shirt and offered it to me. “For you, madam. This is the key to the wards on the chest containing the ten thousand. It will only open for the one wearing the amulet, and it’s quite impervious to destruction. Where would you like it delivered?”

“Virgil?” I asked, settling the amulet inside my armor.

“We don’t…uh…exactly have a permanent residence,” my protector explained.

Mynor didn’t look surprised. “Looking to rent something?”

“No…have it delivered to the back door of the Panarii temple. Knock three times, then twice, then another three and we’ll open the door.”

“Yes,” I said when the other man’s eyes darted to mine as though seeking confirmation.

“Alright. I’ll round up a few fellows and we’ll meet you there.”

 

An hour later, Virgil and I stood in the back room, staring at the impressive oak chest Mynor and his burly helpers had delivered. Slowly, I reached for the simple catch and lifted. The lid came up easily, revealing tube after tube of paper-wrapped coins. They didn’t fill the chest, of course; it was larger than it needed to be in order to make it easier to be carried by two men.

“We’re rich, Miss Clarisse,” Virgil said softly, an odd note in his voice.

“Get the sacks from Maug out of our packs,” I told him. “And the bottles of hallucinate. We’ll store them in the chest.”

“May as well make use of all that room, eh?”

Virgil started handing me sacks of jingling coin and clinking – what? I set the clinking one aside and piled the rest in, then stacked the bottles to one side. While he closed up our packs, I peeked into the sack that didn’t sound like the others, and gasped.

“Miss Clarisse? What – oh.” Virgil’s alarm faded into awe as he saw the gems and jewelry inside the bag.

Hastily, I closed it and put it in the chest before closing the lid. “We’ll look at it all later. Half of it’s probably stolen anyway.” Cheeks pink, I turned away and shrugged into my robe before hefting my pack. “Let’s go get a room for the night.”

Virgil put on his own robe and pack, then looked thoughtfully at the dust in the store room. “Do you suppose there’s a key ring we could, ah, liberate for you?” The way he kept his back to me hinted that he was doing his best to reassure me he wouldn’t ask.

For all that I could pretend to be a gently-bred human woman, I’d never owned so much as a silver bangle. Now I had a fair ransom of gold and gems to wear, and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about it.

While Virgil poked around in the other rooms lining this back hallway, I fished out the ring of keys I’d liberated from the temple in Shrouded Hills and occupied myself with fitting each one inside the storeroom’s lock and seeing if it turned. To my surprise, one of them worked. Virgil returned to find me standing by the half-open door, locking and unlocking it, watching the bolt extend and retract.

“Well,” he said with the air of one not questioning fate, “I guess that solves that. Uh…try the back door?”

I closed and locked the storeroom door, then tried the key that had worked on the other temple’s back door. It worked on the back door of Tarant’s temple. Without a word I locked it and tucked the keys in my belt pouch.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” Virgil said as he led the way towards Desaille Terrace towards Vermillion Road. “After all, you are the, uh, y-you are who you…are.”

I remembered fingers tightening around mine and was suddenly irrationally furious at whoever had written the prophesy of Nasrudin’s rebirth and placed this invisible barrier between us. If I weren’t the Living One, perhaps Virgil might look past my orcish blood…he’d taken my propensity towards violence in stride, after all. Unwilling to trust myself to talk, I flipped up my hood and followed him in silence.

 

“Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Vorak,” the innkeeper said cheerfully after looking at the entry in the guest book. “A pleasure to have you back again.”

“We’ll need a room for the week,” Virgil said loftily, as though his cheeks weren’t darkening ever so slightly at the incorrect assumption of our wedded state.

“Of course, of course…this way…”

“You get the bath first,” said Virgil with a bow once we were alone in our room. “I’ll lay out something to wear to lunch and start putting our things in the chest of drawers.”

I smiled gratefully, feeling the sing of stimulant tug against my body’s demand for sleep. “Thank you.”

For several minutes I simply soaked in the tub; then I investigated the canisters provided. I scrubbed the grime of the Boil out of my skin and my hair which, although it had again regrown to something less outlandish, was pitifully dry from the harsh soap I’d used on it. Thankfully, there was a bottle of scented oil and I reveled in the sweet aroma as it soothed and softened my poor hair. By the time I emerged and wrapped myself in the generous cotton towel, I again felt civilized. Remembering the last time, I made a show of rattling the door before I emerged so that Virgil could turn his back. I couldn’t help but smile as he edged around to the bathroom, but my amusement died as the desire to let the towel fall caused a surprisingly strong ache. Somberly, I dressed and finished what unpacking Virgil hadn’t managed while he bathed. Despite this, however, my heart leaped when he emerged clean and shaven and clothed, once again looking like a proper gentleman. When he offered me his arm, smiling as though the last several weeks had never happened, I took it and let him lead me off to lunch.

 

“What do you think, Miss Clarisse?” Virgil asked as we strolled around the grounds of Tarant University after lunch. “What should we do next?”

“If by ‘next’ you mean ‘today’, I’d say we should pretend we haven’t a care in the world. We’ll need to have words with Mr. Kingsford about the Schuylers, but I don’t want to deal with that until I’ve had a full night’s sleep.”

“And when we find the owner of the ring and deliver the gnome’s message, what then?” he asked quietly. “Will we just hare off at whatever we’re pointed in the direction of, letting ourselves be led around by the nose until the ‘last battle’ with ‘the evil one’?”

Truthfully, I felt the same quiet despair that I heard in his voice. “I suppose it will depend on the owner of the ring.”

In silence, we walked on for a handful of minutes.

“If we survive all of this,” Virgil said suddenly, “what will you do with yourself?”

Surprised, I blurted out, “I suppose I’ll enroll here and finish my studies. I was apprenticed to a doctor, before…to pay the bills, I mean, while I studied. I could do that again. Perhaps set up my own shop and cater to the rougher parts of society. How about you?”

Virgil sighed. “I don’t know. I didn’t exactly have much going for me before I met you. I-I suppose…I’ll continue studying the ways of the Panarii with Elder Joachim.”

“The innkeeper thinks we’re married.”

He laughed. “I suppose, after all we’ve been through together, we do sort of give that impression. Not that I would ever dream of marrying you, of course.”

He said it so lightly, so casually dismissive, that it felt like a dagger in my heart. I dropped his arm, fighting back the unexpected sting of tears. “Because of your Panarii prophesy?” I spat. “Because you think I’m the reincarnation of Nasrudin, you won’t even consider the possibility?”

Shocked by the virulence in my tone, Virgil stared at me, mouth working soundlessly. “I – you think – No! Wait, listen,” he hurried on, half-reaching for me. “This isn’t about you being the Living One! I…you’re a lady, and a doctor, and you’ll do great things, and I…” His shoulders slumped in defeat, arms falling limp at his sides while his gaze dropped to the ground. “I’m just a piece of street trash, a hoodlum pretending to be something I’m not. I’m not good enough for you, Miss Clarisse.”

Relief and concern tangled together, only to be shoved aside by orcish rage. My backhand caught him by surprise, and one hand rose tentatively to his cheek while he stared at me, hurt warring with anger in his eyes.

“Vorak,” I corrected harshly.

“I-I-I…I beg your pardon?”

“If you will persist in wallowing in your base origins, then I have no choice but to do the same. My name is Vorak. Since you will not acknowledge that you have risen above what you were born as and deal with me as a civilized man to a civilized woman, then you will deal with me as a hoodlum to an orc.” Somehow, my fists had become knotted in the front of his shirt, pulling him nearly off-balance towards me. “And orcs take what they want.”

I felt his surprise as my lips dominated his, and then his hands went gingerly to my hips and tentatively, he kissed me back. When I deepened the kiss, he groaned and pulled me closer.

“Clarisse-!” he breathed when we finally parted, as though my name were a prayer. “Or…I suppose I should say…Vorak?”

“That depends,” I half-growled, fists still in his shirt. “Are you going to stop being a silly goose about what you think is good enough for me?”

Virgil smiled sheepishly. “Ah…I-I believe I’ve learned my lesson. Although…I may need you to…repeat that lesson sometime?” he finished hopefully.

The rush of adrenaline and anger left me as swiftly as it had arrived, Vorak satisfied by this show of submission, leaving me Clarisse once again. I removed my hands from his person with a measure of embarrassment and smoothed my skirts, once more the picture of a well-bred human woman. “If you’re sure,” I said demurely.

He took my hands in his. “Miss Clarisse…Vorak…whichever you are, I don’t care. When I’m with you, I feel like I can do great things. You are the light that lifted me out of the darkness. Whether we’re courting like civilized people or going at it like wild animals, I-I would be delighted and honored to have you be mine…or to be yours.”

“Oh, Virgil-!”

My protector smiled as he pulled me gently into his arms. “I did dedicate my life to you, didn’t I?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, relief making me giddy. “Yes, you did.”

For a handful of minutes we stood there, his arms warm and solid around me, each simply breathing in the scents of the other. Then Virgil chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, fighting back a smile of my own.

“Oh, I was just remembering how the scriptures said there’d be something unusual about the Living One.” He released me, one hand caressing my hair back away from my ear. “I thought being a half-elf and a woman was it, but…” His amusement died at the expression on my face. “Miss Clarisse, please…I-I know it’s not something you’re proud of, and believe me, I…” he trailed off sadly. “I know all too well what it’s like, having a past you’re not proud of. But it doesn’t matter to me if your non-human parent was an orc. You’re the Living One, and…” Virgil flushed. “You being half-orc…makes me feel that I’m not rising above my station so much. That it’s not so much of a sin to think about you, to feel about you, the way I do.”

“Let’s find someplace quiet to sit and talk,” I suggested.

Virgil nodded jerkily and offered me his arm again. Demurely, I took it and let him lead me away. If his chest was thrown out and there was a hint of swagger to his gait, what of it? No doubt many young men walked that same way when they’d just confirmed the affections of their lady-friends. We came to the small, quiet park that had served us so well in the past, and with perfect civility he waited until I had seated myself on a bench before sitting next to me, hands nervous fists on his knees.

“My mother was a whore,” I said quietly, deliberately shocking him out of his spiral of self-doubt. “My father liked her so much that he killed her pimp and stole her away to his tribe. He treated her well – never hit her or let anyone else lay a hand on her, never raised his voice to her or called her names – and she was content to live in his tent and not set foot outside at all. When I was born, my mother named me Clarisse…but my father named me Vorak, and it was worth a beating if I answered to the wrong name. I could only be Clarisse – a human girl, Clarisse – when I was alone with my mother. All other times, I was expected to be Vorak the orc.”

“I see,” he murmured. “That’s why you use it in place of a surname. So, tell me about Vorak. What…” Virgil colored slightly. “What do orcish women do?”

I laughed and touched his hand. Like magic, it unfolded and twined around mine. “The same things orcish men do, for the most part. I learned to fight with knife and club, to shoot a bow, to defend myself from wild animals and take their meat…and to defend myself from wild men who would take something else.”

He looked shocked. “Surely, no one tried to…”

“To force the issue?” I asked delicately. “Not as such, but orcish courting is much cruder than human custom and to human eyes, there is little difference. I was daughter of the chieftain, and my human intelligence meant that I was quite desirable even without that. Being grabbed and kissed is the orcish equivalent of being paid a compliment; a knee to the groin is a polite refusal.”

“Orcs take what they want,” Virgil murmured, the fingers of his other hand brushing against his lips as if remembering mine there. “You were…popular, then?”

“Too popular,” I said dryly. “Word spread to another tribe, this one with a half-orc of its own. He thought I would make him a good wife and left his tribe for mine. He killed my father and took over-”

“What?”

I squeezed his hand lightly. “Shhh. It’s the way things work. If he hadn’t, I might never have had a chance to leave. He killed my father, my mother killed herself rather than be thrown out, and I was offered a place as the new chieftain’s mate. I refused, and with little more than the clothes on my back I set out for the nearest human city to make a life for myself.”

“Your bravery makes me feel even more ashamed of myself, Miss Clarisse.”

Although he was trying to make light of the situation, I could tell it was hurting him deeply. “Virgil?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said sharply, then sighed and looked at me with pleading eyes. “I’m sorry, Miss Clarisse. I’m just not as strong as you are. When you get right down to it, I’m a sniveling little worm and you – half-orc and all – you’re still too good for me. Not that I’m foolish enough to argue with your decision,” he added hastily, voice climbing nearly an octave and hand gripping mine as though terrified I would let go. “You’ve made yourself quite clear and I…I…” He took a deep breath. “I had a…sheltered…upbringing. The darker side of life had always fascinated me, but once I’d had a taste of it…I was terrified, but I-I couldn’t go back. There was nothing for me to return to.”

“Is that why you joined the Panarii?” I asked gently.

“Yes. Elder Joachim found me…gave me a chance, put my feet on another path.” He smiled weakly. “A good thing he did, because otherwise there might not have been anyone to help you out after that crash. N-Not that you couldn’t have taken that cloaked fellow,” he said, voice trembling at the memory of that fight. “It’s just that…well, I think following you around has been the only worthwhile thing I’ve done with my life – and I wouldn’t change that for the world! – but…”

“You regret the things that happened to you that put you on that path?”

“I don’t regret anything that happened to me,” he said darkly. “It’s no more than I deserve, and probably less. No…I regret the things that happened to…other people…because of me.”

“Because of you.” My mind pounced on those words. “Someone came to harm and you believe it was your fault, regardless of the fact that it was not your hand. You’re blaming yourself for someone else’s actions.”

For a long minute there was silence as Virgil stared at me in shock, mouth open. “But I…” he protested weakly. “They…”

I let my orcish side come to the fore. “My parents would still be alive had not word of me spread to that other tribe. Is it my fault they are dead? Should I scourge myself because another chose to act in that way?”

“O-Of course not,” he stammered. “But y-you didn’t…didn’t do something to…incite that other fellow…”

“You incited the man in the cloak by the shrine,” I pointed out. “Yet it was my hand alone that ended his life. Is it your fault that he died?”

“He was coming to kill you,” Vigil protested. “That was completely justified.”

“But was it your fault?”

He was silent a long time.

“You’ve given me a lot to think about, Miss Clarisse,” he said finally.

I laughed softly. “And we still haven’t talked about us. We’ve talked about me, and we’ve talked about you…”

“But we haven’t discussed us,” he finished. “You’re the one calling the shots, Miss Clarisse. What do you want to do?”

Demurely, I locked my hands together in my lap. “I want to do this properly,” I told him gently. “Seeing as I was so improper earlier.”

“No, no…that was my fault,” he soothed, taking my hand back. “I made the mistake of trying to make that decision for you. I’ll court you, then, as a gentleman to a lady.” He hesitated. “Ah…if I should make a mistake…you will correct me, right? That is…if I’m moving too slowly, or being too distant…” Virgil looked away, coloring deeply. “My life is yours. I am yours, at your command, to do with as you will.”

“Virgil, what are you trying to say?”

“I-I-I…you’re a lady, Miss Clarisse, and you deserve all the flowery phrases and pretty baubles, and I’ll do my best to give them to you, but…but you’re also Vorak, a-and V-Vorak has made herself quite clear, orcish courtship being what it is, you know, heh heh…” The nervous, awkward laugh died. “Yes. Well. Ah…what is the next step in orcish courtship if a kiss isn’t rejected?”

Now it was my turn to color; that was the entirety of orcish courtship. “You are not…appalled by my breech of propriety?”

“Ah…quite the opposite, actually,” he muttered, embarrassed. “As Clarisse, of course, I will be courting you with all gentle respect…but as Vorak…well, you’ve claimed me, have you not?” Virgil looked at me with naked hope. “That being the case…I trust that if there is something Vorak wants from me…?”

My mouth formed an O, my thoughts whirling. “Orc or human,” I said sternly, “I have but one earthly shell, and my honor will remain intact until all the proprieties have been met.”

“Of course,” he said hurriedly, blushing even deeper. “I-I-I wouldn’t…that is, I …no, I agree.”

“Another thing,” I added, giving him a fierce look – an orcish look – and letting my voice become harsh. “I have claimed you, and orcs are territorial. That Willow girl at Madam Lil’s will just have to do without your company from now on, do I make myself clear?”

“I-I-I…th-that is, you see…uh…” Virgil avoided my eyes and bit his lip, concentrating on collecting his thoughts. “Yes. Quite clear, Vorak, but…uh…”

“But what?” I demanded, forcing myself to put aside the thrill of being called my other name in the correct context.

“It…ah…it wasn’t Willow.” When I made no response, he glanced fearfully at me, almost groveling with his eyes. “It was Alice.”

Alice. The half-orc, the girl whose specialty was domination. My lips parted in a very orcish smile, and I no longer cared if he saw my too-sharp teeth. “One final thing. When you decide to avenge the person or persons who you feel suffered at the hands of others because of you, I will be fighting at your side.”

“But…” the protest died on his lips. “Yes, Vorak,” he said humbly. “I don’t think it’s right, asking you to fight my battles for me, but I’m not asking, am I?” Sheepishly, he smiled. “You’re telling, and it’s not my place to argue with the Living One.”

“Virgil,” I purred, “lean closer and let me reward you for your good and faithful service.”

Flustered and eager, he did so and when I kissed him, there was no hesitation before he kissed back.

 

“Did I use your names right, today?” Virgil asked fearfully as we returned to our room after a delightful dinner. “Clarisse when you’re being a lady, and Vorak when…” he trailed off, flushing.

“When I’m being…forceful?” Gently, I touched his cheek and felt my pulse race. “You did.” I felt my cheeks heat. “Thank you for that.”

“For what?” he asked as he drew me into his embrace, and I laid my head on his shoulder.

“For accepting both sides of me,” I whispered.

“Miss Clarisse…you still haven’t asked me about anything, even though you know I…” His arms tightened around me. “…know I kept things from you.”

Like why Damian Maug knew his name and face.

“I let you believe me half-elf,” I replied calmly. “When word got out that I’d come from an orc tribe…I was expelled, evicted, abandoned, and cast out. My entire life went up in flames, which is why I was on the Zephyr…which also went up in flames,” I finished wryly. “I was afraid that if you knew…”

Virgil laughed nervously. “I’m still afraid that you won’t want anything to do with me, Miss Clarisse.”

In response, I nuzzled his shoulder, feeling very warm and content at being able to do so at last. A long, lazy time later, I became aware that he was calling my name. “Mmm?”

“I said, I think we should turn in for the night.” He gently held me at arm’s length while I blinked and tried to focus. “Are you able to change by yourself, Miss Clarisse?”

My mind cleared slightly as his cheeks darkened. “I…yes. I’ll stay out here.”

Looking highly amused, Virgil pulled my usual loose shirt and pants out of the chest of drawers and laid them on the bed before grabbing his nightshirt and retreating to the bathroom. Fuzzily, I stripped out of my dress and fumbled the shirt and pants on with fingers that felt thick and numb. Virgil came out of the bathroom to find me sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at nothing. Gently, he pulled me to my feet where I stood, swaying, until he turned me around. The bed with its covers pulled back looked more inviting than words could describe, and without a thought I crawled into it, asleep almost before the covers were laid back over me.

 

When I awoke, the sun was streaming in and I felt incredibly refreshed. Then I opened my eyes and saw Virgil watching me from the other bed, and yesterday’s events rushed back. Cheeks warm, feeling like the young girl I never got a chance to be, I smiled.

“Good morning, Miss Clarisse,” he said, smiling back at me.

“Good morning, Virgil. I guess we should find breakfast and discuss our visit to P. Schuyler and Sons.”

“I suppose it will be like our visit to Damian Maug,” he teased, “only without the beheading.”

Lazily, I rolled onto my back and stretched. “That was the general idea I had, yes.” I stared at the ceiling for a moment, my joy marred by a shard of fear. “Virgil?”

“Yes, Miss Clarisse?”

“Did you really mean that, yesterday?”

Footsteps circled around the beds. “Which part,” he asked dryly, “the part where I made a fool of myself trying to be a gentleman about being a hooligan, the part where I made a fool of myself trying to confess my love, or the part where I’m a fool who’s still afraid to tell you my damning past when you’ve already shared yours?”

I sat up and frowned fiercely at him. “I know you, Virgil,” I snapped. “I may not know your past, but I know the shape of your soul as defined by your words and deeds, even under duress. You cannot have done anything so bad that I would forsake you. When you are ready to make peace with those ghosts and share them with me, I trust you to do so. I trust you,” I repeated more gently, the anger sputtering out. “You…you really love me? Orcish blood and all?”

Virgil flushed deeply. “I’m street trash pretending to be a gentleman, you’re an orc pretending to be a lady – and doing much better at it than me, in my opinion. To be honest, I think I was first attracted to you in Shrouded Hills.”

My eyebrows shot up. “That far back? What did I do?”

“You….uh…put a dagger to my throat.” Face beet red now, he looked away in embarrassment. “I told you the darker side of life fascinated me.”

“I became aware of my feelings towards you on our first day in Tarant,” I said quietly, “when I realized that as Vorak, I could never be happy being a gentleman’s pampered wife, but as Clarisse, I would be equally miserable in a relationship devoid of civilized discourse and wit. You proved yourself worthy in both respects before we even arrived in Shrouded Hills.”

That startled him out of his blush. “You mean…if I weren’t able to hold my own in a dark alley, you…”

“I would still feel affection for you, because you are a sweet, gentle, adorable man…but…” I let my lips part in an orcish smile. “You would not be a worthy suitor.”