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Side A – Yasgrid

Yasgrid knew that Nia was proficient in the class of Elven magics which were so common to the Darkwood that they were seen as essentially mundane until exposure to Stoneling culture had shown the Elves how people lived without things like simple cantrips to warm tea when needed. As Naosha’s daughter, Nia had been trained in all the practical essentials of day-to-day Elven spellcraft even before her formal eduction had begun, which meant it wasn’t unthinkable that she might have unique Elven capabilities to bring to bear in dealing with the Nightmares Yasgrid had unleashed.

Of course, some of the magics Nia had been exposed to were not unique to Elven culture. Waste disposal cantrips? Toiletry incantations? Even the spells to clean small cuts or help guide the caster into a peaceful slumber were so common and minor that they seemed to be global phenomena.

The other spells the Elves knew though? The ones to call a breeze for relief from heat, or to help and guide the growth of plants from the smallest of flowers to the mighty trees they made their dwellings in? Those had no analog amongst the Stonelings because they were as much conversations with the Darkwood as they were manifestations of any mystical energy available to the caster.

“In your estimation, how talented was Nia with the magics of the Darkwood?” Yasgrid asked, looking to Marianne for the answer.

“I would rank her on the talented end of average,” Marianne said. “She was always at least acceptable when it came to the group craftings we needed to work for ceremonies and celebrations. Or, no, that’s unfair. She was always exemplary, not a genius by any means, but always able to carry her share of the crafting and buttress the work of any who were struggling.”

“Why say she was average then?” Kyra asked as though this was information she was hearing for the first time.

“While she was capable of rising to the occasion when it was required, if there were no problems or shortfalls in the group castings we were a part of, I don’t recall her expending the energy or focus to make the magics we were part of anything exceptional,” Marianne said. “Having heard her play the Shatter Drums, I can assure you that the improvisation and passion she displays while drumming was entirely absent in the castings we were both a part of.”

“Why do you suppose that was?” Yasgrid asked. Yasgrid had her own suspicions but Marianne had seen a side of Nia that Yasgrid guessed even Nia herself wasn’t fully aware of.

“It puzzled me, and to a degree it puzzles me more after hearing her drumming,” Marianne said. “My first assumption was that she simply lacked the discipline to commit to study and training, perhaps as a quiet form of rebellion against her mother.”

“And what do you believe now?” Kyra asked.

“Her drumming rather thoroughly contradicts the idea that she is incapable of focus and training. Which leaves me to believe, given the transposition she and Yasgrid had achieved, that the facility she demonstrated with Elven ceremonial magics was something she worked far harder for than I gave her credit for, as her heart seems more in resonance with Stoneling magics. That Elven magics aren’t entirely closed to her seems like at least a minor miracleif not more.”

“I’d questioned that as well, but there’s one additional element to consider; I’m not certain Nia is using Stoneling magics for what she’s accomplished anymore than she’s using Elven magics.”

Side B – Nia

A Roadie tried a flying tackle off a cart at Nia and she clobbered him into the dust without being fully aware of what she doing.

Another Roadie tried to break an (empty) barrel over Margrada’s head and Magrada ducked under it, tripped the stumbling Roadie onto her back, and then hurled him into a three way fight between Roadies who were all in theory on the same side as each other, also without being entirely aware of what she’d done.

“It’s here,” Nia said, the entirety of her attention focused on the thumping beat beneath the ruckus of the sprawling celebration.

“It’s everywhere,” Margrada said, closing her eyes for a moment as they stopped moving.

Another Roadie, sensing easy prey perhaps, gleefully staggered towards the two. He was apparently intent on using a makeshift haybale as a weapon. He might have been successful had Belhelen not body checked him into one of the wagons and let the haybale fall on top of him. That turned out to be close enough to bedding that the Roadie simply curled up and accepted his new lot in life.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Gossma asked. She wasn’t fully drunk, but her words had the hint of a slurring to them.

“Not even a tiny one,” Belhelen said, her tone suggesting she wished she’d switched to heavier drink sooner.

Nia heard their exchange but shushed it out of her mind.

The party had a beat to it.

She’d been to Roadie parties before, was this just what they were all like?

The Rotgut she’d started the night with was not helping her focus on questions like that.

It wasn’t helping her focus at all.

Which might have been a good thing?

“The more I listen for it, the harder it is to hear? Does that make sense?” she asked without turning to Margrada.

“No. But you’re right. I…I can feel it, but I can’t hear it? Not the tempo, not the…I don’t know. It’s out there but I can’t make it out?” Margrada’s frustration echoed with Nia’s own.

“What is it that you’re hearing?” Belhelen asked. “Maybe we can help?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Nia said. “The more I try to make it clear in my head, the less I’m able to feel it. It’s drumming, but it’s not. It’s, ugh, words just aren’t working.” She wanted to hit something. Or someone. Except she’d tried that on a few Roadies already and it hadn’t made a difference.

How could she listen for something that went away when she listened for it? It didn’t make any sense!

“We’ve got to get out of own heads,” Margrada said. “Do you trust me?”

“Always.” Nia didn’t even have to think about the answer.

Which was good because as Margrada’s lips landed on hers, thinking became the last thing she was capable of.

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