Side A – Yasgrid
In Yasgrid’s experience, the machinations of the gods were something to be universally opposed. She knew the Darkwood Elves had a different relationship with their deities than the Stonelings did, but it seemed all too easy to project any sort of qualities one wanted onto deities as absent as the elven gods were. That the Darkwood Elves didn’t need to routinely assault their gods left open the possibility that time had softened the image those gods left behind.
Endings stood as testimony to both sides of that. As a gift to their people, it showed the gods’ care and concern for the well being of the elves. The mere fact that the elven gods had left their creation in a state where Endings was required though suggested they were not so benevolent as the elves seemed to consider them.
“Our gods are long passed,” Naosha said. “Their involvement in our world ended before our civilization even took root here.”
“And they would have little reason to unleash a thing like Elshira on their creation,” Kayelle said. “Whatever she was, she’s become an abomination to Darkwood and the world in general.”
“You know them better than I do,” Yasgrid said. “It concerns me however that all of those things could also be said of the Troubles as well.”
“We create our Troubles,” Naosha said. “Our deities have no hand in that.”
“They made you in a fashion that you can spawn Troubles,” Yasgrid said. “The Stoneling deities hated their creations, and yet they still didn’t shape us to create monsters to destroy ourselves with. Or, to be fair, give us a tool to destroy those same monsters.”
“So what you’re imagining is not an active intervention on their part but some left over remnant of their power, or exploitable loophole they left in the rules which govern life and death?” Kayelle asked.
“Would that be either inconsistent or unbelievable given what we know?” Yasgrid asked.
“No, it would not,” Naosha said. “We seem to be dealing with someone who is operating outside the laws of magic we are familiar with. A divine artifact or highly specific loophole would be one of the smallest deviations which would fit the pattern.”
“Assuming Elshira was actually killed when she was believed to be,” Kayelle said.
“There was some care taken in ensuring that she was dispatched,” Naosha said. “I find the idea that she cheated death by some mundane means more chilling than the notion that a lost fragment of divine power was used to revive her. If divine powers were involved, the event is likely to be singular. If Elshira is somehow so skilled as to fake the death she seemingly experienced, there’s far less hope that any further wounds she sustains in the future would prove to be genuinely fatal either.”
“That does suggest what our next course of action should be then,” Yasgrid said, dreading the necessity since it would mean turning away from the mess the Fate Dancers had become.
“Yes,” Naosha said. “We must visit Elshira’s grave and see what mischief has been worked there.”
Side B – Nia
Nia was torn. Conflict stormed in her heart and beat against her from all sides, but Nia hadn’t been raised to abandon her self control quite that easily. She found the eye of the storm. As her mother had always shown her. As she’d found in Shatter Drumming.
She blinked at the connection. The image of her mother with a Shatter Drum was laughably ridiculous, but the common ground existed nonetheless. Seeing that for the first time, Nia breathed in, called to mind her mother’s effortless serenity, and tapped a rhythm on the back of her own hand.
“Drum Master,” she began, and paused to be sure she had her audience’s attention. “You said the question was whether we would be able to convince Osdora to return with us, more so than the time the trip would require.”
“Yeah? And? You remember something that would help?” Pelegar asked.
“I know where she’s going and why,” Nia said, her decision far easier to live with once she stepped out her own way.
Margrada reached out to hold her hand, knowing the shape of what was to come.
“She told you?” Pelegar said.
There wasn’t a simple answer to that, so Nia provided an answer to her own statement instead.
“She’s traveling to the Darkwood. Would Gossma be able to lead her that far?”
“What? No. Of course not. Who ever goes to the Darkwood. The place is haunted,” Gossma’s father said.
“Why would Osdora go there?” Pelegar asked, her gaze growing suspicious.
“To find her daughter,” Nia said.
“Are you suffering some kind of relapse into that fugue state from the Calling?” Pelegar asked, reaching out to touch Nia’s forehead with the back of her hand.
“I’m okay,” Nia said. “I’ve always, or mostly always, been okay. What I am not is Osdora Kaersbeans daughter however.”
“Did you tell her that?” A flicker of rage simmered in Pelegar’s eyes, a protest for the hurt done to a dear friend.
“I showed her. Yasgrid and I did,” Nia said. “And we took her to the Darkwood to help prove it.”
Pelegar sighed. “I’m sorry to have brought you along Yasgrid. I didn’t know this would be so much for you. I should have considered what you’ve been through.”
That Pelegar thought she’d snapped wasn’t a surprise to Nia. It was by far a more plausible explanation than the reality.
“She’s telling the truth,” Margrada said. “I’ve seen the two of them together, and I was there when they drummed Yasgrid into Osdora’s tent.”
Pelegar blinked. And blinked again.
“I don’t know…” she began to say but Nia cut her off.
“Give me a drum,” she said. “It’s not easy, but if Yasgrid is free, I think we can show you.”
It was a risky ploy. Nia wasn’t certain she and Yasgrid could repeat the performance they’d put on in Osdora’s tent. She wasn’t sure Pelegar would believe them if they did. But she knew she had to try.
“Show me what?” Pelegar said.
“Who I really am,” Nia said.