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Side A – Nia

As gods went, the Gardener presented a rather less-than-divine appearance to the petitioners who came before him.

“Sorry, sorry, just can’t get over this ale stuff,” he said, wobbling unsteadily to the door of a home which, in the typically elven manner, had been grown up around one of the Darkwood’s mighty trees. That was the extent of its resemblance to an elven home however. 

Where the Elves shaped the growing limbs of the trees to form their dwellings, the Gardener’s home was woven from as many stones as roots but more than either of those where the ribbons of crystal which glinted and gleamed in the sunlight.

“Is your god here drunk?” Gossma asked Ilia.

“He is not mine, but, yes, he does appear to be somewhat tipsy,” Ilia said, tilting her head to one side as though the parallax would yield a different perception.

“Someone brought you a Stoneling mug?” Nia asked. Should she have been awed? Probably. For all that the Gardener was physically tiny compared to her, Nia could hear with startling clarity the beat of divine power which thrummed through the land around them, and that dwarfed even the great trees that she was still astounded by.

She had fought gods though. Several of them. For all that she’d been raised an Elf, and had accepted that would always be a part of her, there was also the point that Nia’s heart had always beaten like more like a Stonelings than she’d been able to understand, and Stonelings just didn’t quite have it in themselves to feel awe when it came to dealing with the gods.

“Yes, and it was nearly empty,” the Gardener said. “Which was good that they brought it to me, because I could fill it right back up.”

“Pelegar came here first,” Ilia said. “Apparently this was what she brought when I suggested she bring some token of appreciation to offer as a sign of friendship.”

“Yes, we’re friends now,” the Gardener said, gesturing for everyone to come inside, glancing at the door to his home, at the Stonelings, and back to the door again, before conjuring a table for them to sit at in the clearing.

“How does a god get drunk?” Osdora asked. “Our booze isn’t that good or we’d have flooded our volcanoes with it long ago.”

“It is a choice, I believe,” Kyra said, hopping up to take her seat as the others did the same.

“Part of being part of the world,” the Gardener said and whispered, “I’m not really supposed to be here. They didn’t make this place to walk around in, for people like me to walk around in, so I talked to her, you know, the Darkwood, and she said I can stay, but I need to be with the world, not against it.”

Nia tried to listen for the silent emptiness that she’d caught tantalizing hints of before but in the Gardeners presence the sheer majesty of his, admittedly well hidden, presence filled her ears leaving no room for any silence at all.

“Sorry,” the Gardener said. “I know I can be a bit much. At the moment though, I think that’s a good thing. What you’re listening for is listening for you too, and at least while you’re here, you’ll be safe from that.

Side B – Yasgrid

Finding a question that made Karsda laugh was oddly satisfying Yasgrid found. It was like she’d won a pass to the Clever Kids club.

“What makes you think we’re not still scheming even now?” Karsda asked, leering at Yasgrid with a wicked smile.

“Gram.” Margrada was unimpressed in the manner only a grandchild who’d been putting up with her grandmother’s nonsense for most of her life could manage to be.

“Okay, fine,” Karsda said. “We haven’t talked at all since the lot of you went and ‘broke fate’ like you called it.”

“Kyra’s not what she used to be anymore,” Yasgrid said. “None of the Fate Dancers are.”

“Not sure if I’m sorry to hear that or not,” Karsda said. “Your girl Kyra was a good sort but it didn’t sound like the people she came from could claim to be the same.”

“I…I have my issues with them,” Yasgrid said. “She’s gone back to the Darkwood to look into a problem they’ve encountered.”

“Well that’s you’re answer then,” Karsda said. “Can’t imagine she’s got all that many good memories of the time we spent chatting across the miles and minutes. She wasn’t in a good place for any of it as I recall.”

“She wasn’t, but I would guess that being able to speak with you helped her tremendously. Her only other option for conversation was her captor and there was much chance of safe or pleasant discussion happening there.”

“I had that sense too, and I trust if she didn’t come around this time, it’s because she’ll be round some other,” Karsda said.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Margrada said. “If you know all that, then I didn’t even need to come here did I?”

“What, you’re too good to check on your old gram now? Ms. Famous Shatter Band drummer?” Karsda asked, clearly enjoying the simmering frustration on Margrada’s face.

Yasgrid should have been on Margrada’s side. Solidarity with Nia’s girl was just assumed as the idea that Nia would take care of Kyra for her. It was challenging though because Margrada really was kind of adorable when she was vexed, a fact Karsda seemed long familiar with and quite adept at evoking.

 “This isn’t about that, and you know it, you all seeing old bat.” Margrada didn’t stamp her foot, which was good. If she had Yasgrid might have burst out laughing too.

“Not all seeing,” Karsda said. “I still don’t know how even a tenth of what happened while you were on the road. One minute I’m sending you off with lunch for school and then next you’re all grown up and leaving me for a Tour and then I hear you’ve played some kind of song that no one’s ever heard of, and oh, by the way, all the gods are gone, thank you very much.”

“Hold on, so you don’t know that I’m getting married then?” Margrada asked.

“Married? Oh! When can I see my great-grandkids!” 

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