Mercedes eyed the young shaman, and nodded.

  Simone seemed subtly different to her, somehow- and it wasn’t the serious mien that was on Simone’s face, either. The High Elf had thought of Simone as a young girl, capable in some ways, but also barbaric, living a simple tribal existence like the humans of old.

  Simone was a man, albeit a young and decidedly strange one, and someone who commanded powers that demanded respect. If Simone had grown up in Degan, the smaller elf would likely have held a strong position in the Noble Houses- the ability to use magic was valued over the inability to use it.

  “The water?” Mercedes asked as she sat.

  “For tea.” Simone replied casually. Mercedes nodded.

  While the pan heated up, Simone picked up the densely carved spear and gave it a twirl, the beaded thongs tied just underneath the spearpoint swinging.

  Mercedes noted a certain hesitance in Simone’s actions as the smaller elf first twirled the spear one way, and then the other. Simone kept glancing at her feet as she moved, as if trying to make sure her feet were placed correctly as she made a slow circuit of the two bedrolls and campfire.

  The smaller elf took a deep breath, then nodded.

  Suddenly, it seemed as if all the uncertainty in Simone’s earlier actions fell away. She stepped, spun the staff, twisted her body while thrusting to the side with the spear, spinning around while twirling the spear again, crouching low, thrusting straight up into the air, and then bringing the butt of the spear down onto the paving stones with a smart click. Simone took another step, and began again, twisting, spinning, dancing. Each time she struck the butt of her spear against the ground, it sounded louder, deeper, more resonant than the one before.

  By the time Simone was halfway around the circle, Mercedes was covering her ears; the impacts of the spear echoed sharply in the crusader’s ears, like the rhythmic, inexorable blows of a blacksmith’s hammer on the forge. The paving stones of the ancient baths tolled like a bell with each blow, stone dust squirting up with each strike.

  Simone abruptly ended the dance, striking the stones one final time with the spear, which stood up, arrow straight, as if it had been planted in the ground.

  Mercedes took her hands away from her ears, and strangely, as she did so, the sulfurous smell of the springs faded, bringing the fresh, clean air of the forests. Was that Simone’s doing?

  Simone glanced at the spear as she sat down; hopefully the protections she’d set up would be sufficient to protect the two of them. The subjects she was to speak of were forbidden, dangerous topics, and powerful magics needed to be invoked for protection.

  Simone opened her mouth to begin, but froze, a trickle of icy sweat running down her spine. Her paints had come off in the bath.

  Simone rummaged around in her bag, and pulled out two small containers, one of red ochre, one of chalk, each blended with soft, purified tallow.

  Simone took a thin twig that had escaped the fire and gnawed the end into a fibrous brush, dipped it in the paints, and began applying them. She started with the red; strengthening her ties to the material world. She hummed as she worked, Mercedes eyed the smaller elf with a mild confusion, but also curiosity.

  Simone would have explained, but she’d already begun, and couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. Her teachers, the other shamans, could have chatted away, making small talk while their skilled hands drew each mark precisely, but for Simone, something like that was simply impossible.

  After fortifying her body with the red paints, Simone switched to the white, to fortify and protect her spirit. This time she chanted softly, rhythmically, as she painted.

  Mercedes watched Simone apply paints in esoteric symbols to herself, painting her arms and face in zigzags, triangles, dots, spirals, crescents and circles. The smaller elf’s hands didn’t shake, and the lines didn’t waver or wobble. Simone’s concentration was entire, it was obvious to the crusader that this wasn’t just some barbarian war paint, but something else.

  Mercedes’ curious observation turned into embarrassment as Simone drew more marks across her own chest, then lifted up the long fringed skirt and went to work on her bare, warm brown legs.

  It was strange to see Simone, arms doubled up behind, carefully painting symbols on the back of her own neck, on the backs of her shoulders.

  The shaman was limber and flexible, and it was easy to see that Simone’s concentration didn’t waver even while painting symbols with her non-dominant hand, on her own back.

  Eventually, Simone set down the twig and let out a shaky breath. The tribesman locked eyes with Mercedes.

  “Let’s begin.”

  For everything, there is a beginning. Simone thought to herself.

  “In the beginning, before the Great Terror, there were three People.” Simone began. “There were the People of the Plains, the People of the Forests, and the People of the Mountains.” Simone pressed her lips together and looked to the side. “Many of the People of the Plains see the People of the Sea as a third People, but they’re...” the young shaman trailed off for a moment, “just People of the Plains that migrated to the coast. They still revere the spirits, after a fashion.”

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  “The People of the Forest are a secretive People, Their ways aren’t known to us, though we have friendly relations.” Simone smiled. “My mother’s mother is from the People of the Forest. I don’t know the story, but she joined my people for a time.” Simone waved her hand dismissively, the personal anecdote was unnecessary, except to illustrate that the People of the Plains and Forest were amicable with each other.

  Simone paused, and toyed with a small rock chip. “The People of the Mountains...” She shook her head. “From what I understand, the People of the Plains -and the Forest- thought the People of the Mountains... strange. There might not have been any hostility, but there was a great deal of... reluctance... to deal with them. You understand?” Simone asked, looking to the taller elf.

  Mercedes nodded. “What did they do that was so strange?” She asked.

  Simone rolled her eyes. “Everything.”

  Mercedes tilted her head and leaned forward. “Are there examples?” She prodded.

  Simone frowned. “Not... specifically.” the shaman begrudgingly admitted.

  Simone pulled out her spirit stick and toyed with it idly.

  “Then came the Great Terror.” Simone pressed her lips together and looked away; Mercedes stared at her hands for a little bit. Mercedes had seen the Great Terror in a vision that Simone had given her. It was a horrible thing, a thing that defied description, even for someone as erudite as herself.

  “We were warned.” Simone offered in a low voice as she added herbs to the water, chamomile and mint. “We were warned in advance that it was coming. We prayed to the spirits to protect us; and they agreed.” Simone looked to the side again. “The People of the Forest ... had their own protections. They hid in their forests and did... whatever they needed to, in order to survive.”

  Simone took a shaky breath. The shaman didn’t want to talk about the People of the Mountains, but it was important to do so.

  “The ... People of the Mountain prayed to the Outside.” She finally admitted. “And something answered.”

  Mercedes gave Simone a confused look. “Outside?” She prompted, and Simone frowned at the crusader. How could she not know of the Outside? Everyone knew about the danger of the Outside, even if they didn't mention it.

  “It’s... not something to be spoken of lightly, even under the protection of the sun and spirits.” Simone admitted reluctantly. In her hands, a delicate shimmering orb appeared. “There is the all of everything. The world, the sun and stars, the moon. The oceans and land, life and death, People and spirits. Everything.” Simone tilted her head in thought. “It’s maybe likely that your goddess is also part of the all of everything, I don’t know.”

  Mercedes wanted to object to Simone's indifferent acknowledgement of her Goddess, but restrained herself.

  Simone’s face firmed, her brows drew together, and she frowned. “But the Outside is just that- it is outside of everything. Anything that comes from Outside is an interloper. A foreigner. A thing not bound by the laws of inside.” Simone released her hands, and the shimmering sphere vanished. “They are things of inscrutable will, inhuman cruelty and unsurpassed evil.”

  Simone let out a shuddering breath. “The People of the Mountains embraced this Outsider, and they were forever changed by it.”

  Simone took the pan of tea off the fire, and poured it into cups for the two of them.

  “The Pearl of N’Granek is a thing of the Outside. It corrupts all it touches- like those wolves we fought- and needs to be destroyed.”

  Simone offered a sheepish, helpless look to Mercedes. “That said, I don’t think that something from Outside can be destroyed.” She gestured aimlessly, trying to articulate a concept that she didn’t have words for. “If it can’t be destroyed, then it must be sealed away, so that it can’t corrupt anything.”

  Mercedes thought long and hard about what Simone had said- how the shaman had said it. It was clear that Simone's grasp of Mercedes’ language was lacking- she could converse with it, but conveying complex and abstract ideas was difficult.

  It was obvious Simone was serious; her posture, her body language, her expressions- all of this conveyed how serious Simone was.

  But... this outside concept the smaller elf was trying to convey- Mercedes couldn't understand it at all.

  She decided to set aside what was irrelevant, and focus on what she was able to manage.

  “So... this ‘pearl’,”’ she began, “what is it, exactly?”

  Simone tilted her head in confusion, but reached for her pack. She rummaged around a bit, and then came up with a small leather pouch.

  “In the sea, there are ... creatures? Things that live under the waters.” The petite elf smiled. “They're really tasty. From time to time, when you crack open their shells, you'll see pearls.” She opened the pouch and pulled out a bit of fur and opened that to reveal a tiny little bead-sized pearl.

  Mercedes rolled her eyes a little. “I know what a pearl is, Simone.” She held out her hand, and Simone passed it over.

  “This is pretty valuable. You should keep it safe.” Mercedes advised, and offered it back.

  Simone took it back, rewrapped it in the bit of fur, and then tucked it into the tiny pouch, and then stuffed it back into her pack. “I don't know if the Pearl of N'Granek is an actual pearl, it's just been told to me that it's a pearl. It... is full... of the power of the Outside, and grants desires to all who encounter it.”

  Mercedes hearkened back to what the spirit Liatris had said, “Most animals wish to be larger, stronger, able to weather the dangers of its life. This one was no different.”

  “It’ll be dangerous.” Mercedes mused.

  Simone nodded. “It will want to protect itself.” She agreed, and then paused and added, “It will try to corrupt you.”

  Mercedes sipped at the tea. “How do we protect ourselves?” She asked.

  Simone shook her head. “I have no idea.”