Mercedes sat in thought as the smaller elf unpacked her bags, sorted through them, and then repacked them. Simone moved with an economy of action that demonstrated a certain self-possession that belied her youthful, innocent-looking face.

  If what Simone had said was true, Simone wasn’t youthful or innocent- Simone was of an age with the crusader, and was much more worldly than Mercedes had assumed in the beginning.

  Mercedes eyed Simone over the rim of her cup, the scents of the herbs Simone had infused the tea with tickling her nose. She’d assumed a lot about the shaman, she realized. Simone wasn’t a simple barbarian, wasn’t stupid... and wasn’t a girl. She blushed a little as the memory of Simone standing up right in front of her in the bath flickered through her mind. Simone now seemed wrapped in mystery, a young man in command of powerful forces and inscrutable knowledge.

  Just how much did she really know about this shaman from the plains?

  Simone was aware of Mercedes’ scrutiny; had gotten used to it, in fact. It was vaguely upsetting in a visceral way, hadn’t they shared memories? Hadn’t they shared a bath? She thought she’d been as forthcoming as possible; it now seemed apparent to her that perhaps there was still a divide between the two of them.

  She racked her brain to find some way to close the distance between the two of them. There wasn’t much left to do at this place; they’d rested and bathed, and Simone had explained what she felt she’d needed to say to the crusader, all that remained was for Simone to perform her augury, and then the two of them could move on.

  Her auguries were simple things, and she only used them to chart the course of where they should go; auguries were fickle things that were really only useful for answering simple questions, and so Simone used them as a simple compass for their travels. As Simone’s shamanic powers grew, she’d be able to use more powerful, complicated divinations that would reveal even more.

  Vitalen had disappeared; the spirit’s guidance was missed. Simone could try to speak with Liatris, but it seemed that the spirit was more focused on Mercedes than anything else. That could be dangerous in its own way.

  Mercedes was blushing. Was she thinking about the bath?

  “Do you want to couple with me?” Simone asked Mercedes curiously. The elven knight choked on her tea, coughing. She dropped her teacup; some of it splashed in the fire with a hiss.

  “Wh-what?” Mercedes asked in a strangled voice as she struggled to compose herself, to keep from coughing. Her heart pounded in her head, and she was certain her face was on fire with mortification and embarrassment.

  Simone’s head tilted to the side; this was not the reaction she was expecting. Maybe she’d offered in a way that was inappropriate? The link she’d established between herself and Mercedes was specific, it was enough for Simone to borrow Mercedes’ language so that they could communicate effectively.

  There was the memory-within-the-dream Mercedes had escaped to, but there wasn’t much Simone could understand about Mercedes’ culture from that alone.

  The People of the Plains treated sex as a natural, pleasurable extension of life, and because of the communal living they shared, things like modesty simply didn’t exist. Mercedes’ culture was different enough to confuse Simone.

  Mercedes couldn’t believe the utterly direct and blunt proposition she’d just received. Nevermind the fact that there hadn’t been a declaration of intent, or any sort of agreement established between Simone’s family and her own, or any of the other tangled minutiae that Mercedes would have expected.

  “No...” Mercedes relied awkwardly, “Not right now.”

  Why did she say that? Was she thinking of accepting later? No! That wasn’t it! She’d put it off and... and deal with it later! Yes! That was it!

  But Simone simply shrugged and nodded, and laid out her shawl- laid out like this, it doubled as a good place to use for her divinations.

  Mercedes leaned forward, watching what Simone was doing with unfeigned curiosity, but although Simone could see a tangled mess of magic writhing around the slender elf, she couldn’t discern its purpose as Simone emptied the contents of her pouch over the shawl.

  Simone pored over the bits of bone, stone, and other things briefly, and then nodded.

  “If we leave now,” Simone offered, “We can hunt dinner in time to set up our evening camp.” Simone looked to Mercedes. “I’d also like to get away from this smell.”

  The foothills they passed though were now more rocky, with chunks of granite punching through the thin topsoil. The trees had given way to pines and spruce; the forest floor was carpeted in needles, and few plants grew, mostly ferns. The air was redolent with the musky scent of pine sap.

  “Can you teach me how to talk with the spirit?” Mercedes asked as they hiked.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Simone glanced at Mercedes but immediately went back to carefully looking through the forests around them. With the sparse undergrowth, the smaller elf could see much further than she could in the forest she’d entered from the pains.

  “It’s best not to involve yourself too much with the spirits.” Simone advised after a moment. “Respect them, appreciate them, revere them ... but keep them at a distance, except for great need.”

  “I don’t understand. Wouldn’t it make sense to try and be as close as you can to ... them?” Mercedes asked, trying to make the connection between the smaller elf’s relationship with spirits and her relationship with the goddess synonymous.

  “Certainly not.” Simone was emphatic. “Spirits are a part of the world, but also above the world. There is too much that can go wrong.”

  Mercedes turned to the smaller elf, confused. She adjusted the shoulder straps on her pack. “I don’t understand.”

  Simone’s brow furrowed in thought. “There is a story I know, if you want.” the smaller elf offered after a time.

  Mercedes nodded.

  “... it’s... possible to ask spirits for their help in everything. Their power is useful, after all. Lighting fires, hunting prey, divining the future, even finding the best places to camp, all of these things- and more- are easier when you ask the spirits for help.” Simone explained, but then added, “But it ... changes you. It changes your heart. You stop thinking for yourself, and start thinking about the next time you can ask the spirits for their help.”

  Mercedes nodded at that. She knew elven mages that did everything they could with magic, looked to it as a solution for every inconvenience.

  “It also depends on the spirit. Some are willing to help lend their power, others are fickle. Some will demand tasks in return. Abstinence. Fasting.” Simone paused, and then added, “other things.”

  “But to the story,” The shaman shrugged her shoulders. “Long, long ago,” Simone began, “there was a man, one of the People of the Plains. Back then, we still lived in fear of the Great Disaster, and so we communed with the spirits a lot more than we do now.”

  Simone stopped walking to rearrange her packs. “The man was often said to be blessed by the spirits. He was strong, he was healthy, and he had much wealth. With the help of the spirits and the strength of his own mind and body, he was able to provide for his tribe. More, because his counsel was so valued, he was able to bring that benefit to the other tribes that were near to his own.”

  Simone paused in the telling as she briefly lifted the strap on her pack, and regretted not sleeping more at the spring. Well, if she could, she’d make up for it tonight.

  “He relied on the counsel of his peers, but he also relied on the counsel of his shaman, and their communion with the spirits. Again and again, he was able to thwart bad luck and misfortune.” Simone trailed off, trying to remember the specifics of the story. “But there were many times when he simply couldn’t commune with the spirits, and he had to rely on his own wits. As things got busier, he communed less and less with the spirits.”

  Simone’s eyes closed as the petite elf thought back.

  “The spirits are fickle. Once you have their attention, they want more of it. Once they have your gratitude, the need for more arises.” Simone warned. “One of the spirits became especially enamored of the man, and, breaking many proscriptions, possessed the body of a man, and approached him. The two engaged in many duels and competitions.”

  “The spirit broke proscriptions?” Mercedes asked. Simone nodded. “They have rules in the same way that we do.” the brown-skinned elf replied, “though I only know of the proscriptions.”

  Mercedes nodded. It was impossible to know the rules of the divine.

  “The spirit loved the sport, the competitions, the challenge of wit against wit, strength against strength... but there was something missing. The spirit wanted more from the man, and so, it broke the laws of the spirits again, and took the form of a woman, and joined with the man.”

  Simone was silent for a time, trying to think of the right words to use.

  “The spirit was content for a time, and lavished the man with many presents. Rare amber, glittering stones, exotic furs from other places, foods that had never been tasted before.”

  Simone took a breath. “But the man was responsible for several tribes at that point. He couldn’t direct his energies towards the spirit alone. He had responsibilities, obligations. The spirit grew jealous of the time he spent away from it.”

  Simone glanced over at Mercedes. “The spirits are sworn by ancient treaty to keep us from harm, to protect us from disaster. But that spirit broke that treaty for its own greed, and killed the man’s family, his tribe, and all the neighboring tribes, so that it could have all of his attentions for itself.”

  Mercedes eyes opened wide at this. Simone wasn’t a storyteller, wasn’t good at it, but the import, the seriousness of the story came across starkly.

  Spirits were revered, respected, honored, acknowledged, and even consulted... but they were kept at a distance. If there were a choice- to build a fire, or to ask a spirit to set the fire alight, the People of the Plains would do the extra labor to light the fire themselves. They didn’t want to incur any additional debt to the spirits.

  Mercedes thought for a minute as they took a short break in the forest.

  “The spirit possessed a man... and then a woman.” She mused. “What gender was the spirit originally?” She asked curiously.

  Simone’s head tilted and she stared at Mercedes as if she’d asked a very stupid question.

  “Spirits do not have gender.” Simone replied after that awkward silence. “Or, at least, as far as we can tell, they don’t need one.”

  Simone pointed to a rocky overhang, a chunk of mountainous stone that jutted from the ground.

  “We’ll camp there for the night.” She decided, “but no fire after we cook our meal; these are the lands of the People of the Mountains, and I’d not draw their attentions.”