The In Between - 13. Solitaire

13 ~Solitaire~

When Brandon saw that Salvo and Jordan would have to travel on horseback to get to the castle where Leia was being kept, he was a little bit glad he was staying behind, although his stomach still twisted with something that felt suspiciously like jealousy at the fact that Jordan would be seeing Leia before he would. Still, he couldn't help being a little relieved that he wouldn't have to ride a horse quite yet.

He still accompanied them to the edge of town, where Salvo rented two horses and was mildly impressed at the way Jordan easily swung up onto the horse.

"You've done that before, haven't you?" Brandon asked.

"Rode when I was younger. Before the accident," Jordan said. He gave Brandon a smile. "Don't worry. I'll take care of her until we figure out a way to get you inside."

"Do that. Please."

"I promise."

While Salvo was gone, an acquaintance of his was running the shop, another similarly stout man named Tigo. Tigo didn't waste any time letting Brandon know that the best way Brandon could help him was to stay out of the way, so Brandon took the hint and left Salvo's shop, sketchpad in hand, to look around town.

He tried to stay away from the larger concentrations of people, instead opting to try and find an out of the way area to just sit and watch. The town consisted of a large central plaza with a lot of shops and booths set up where most of the townspeople congregated. Salvo's shop was set near the plaza, along one of the rough cobble stoned streets. If he followed the street away from the plaza, it would take him back to the outskirts... towards Dathilda's place. Before he left, Salvo had gently explained to a guilt stricken Brandon that Dathilda was an experienced psychic healer and that the work she did on his back wasn't enough of a strain to cause her death. When Brandon had pressed Salvo for details, Salvo only said she had a brain rupture... what Brandon figured to be the Charion equivalent of an aneurysm or stroke.

He slowed as he approached her house, uncertainty pulling at his feet. Why was he here?

He detoured, stepping off the main road and walking around to the back of her house. He tried the door and found it locked. If Dathilda hadn't had her doors locked, Salvo might have done so when he came to check on her, so that made sense. He went to one of the windows and saw it was cracked open slightly near the bottom. He dropped his sketchbook on the ground and wedged his fingers under the sill, pulling upward hard. The window slid open with a horrible, grinding screech. Brandon slid in the small opening with a little difficulty, finding himself in a back room that he didn't recognize. It looked like it was used for storage mainly. He exited the room and walked down the hallway, passing the sick room where he had spent many hours while Dathilda did her work, and finally entering the study. He looked around at all the books lining the walls, running a finger over the bindings. He was never a huge book person. That was more Jordan's thing. He lifted himself up his toes and looked at one of the shelves, trying to catch some of the titles. He was expecting medical textbooks, but these titles covered a wide range of scientific topics, even a couple dealing with mathematical components and theories.

He moved to her desk, looking through the stacks of paper before he found what he was looking for. He spread the map out on the floor. He had copied Anailde's map into his sketchbook, but it was of little practical use....It had just been too big to fit on his sketchpad pages adequately. He had filled up four of them trying to get down the parts that looked the most important. But this one was better. He refolded it and stood up.

There were several books still on the floor at the base of the bookshelf and Brandon, feeling a tug of conscience, picked them up. He looked over the spines. More science stuff, mostly. He put them back on the shelf.

A sound echoed through the house, of a door being forced open. Panic lanced through Brandon, hot and bright. Several reasons why a person would be breaking into a dead woman's house ran through his mind and none of them boded well for him. He stuffed the map into the waistband of his pants and crept to the doorway. He looked out into the hallway and saw a shadow against the wall. Whoever was in the house was still in the entryway... If they stepped forward, they would have a good view down the hallway and could possibly spot him. Brandon held his breath as the shadow shifted and moved away. They were heading towards Dathilda's room. Brandon was torn between following and seeing what was going to happen and getting out of there.

Hesitating, he slipped down the hallway to where he had snuck in earlier. He wiggled out the window and pulled out the map and tucked it inside the pages of the sketchbook. He turned and wiggled back inside, trying not to make too much noise as his feet hit the floor. He crept back out towards the hallway and saw a flutter of motion. He flattened himself against the wall of the hallway, but the figure never looked back, just headed straight for the doorway, pulling the head of their cloak back up to cover their face. Brandon caught of glimpse of messy black hair and a slight, muscular body before the person disappeared. Brandon took several steps towards down the hallway, wondering what the person was here for when an acrid smell assaulted his nose. He sniffed again to make sure he smelled correctly and his eyes watered. Smoke. Damn it. He turned and raced back the way he came from. A tendril of smoke filled his mouth as he inhaled and he coughed violently as he pushed himself back out through the window and picked up his sketchpad from the grass. He stumbled back several steps, still coughing, watching as smoke began to drift upward from Dathilda's burning house. Whoever that intruder was, they had set her house on fire, the bastard.

It was then, standing in the grass, which Brandon realized he had spent all that time climbing in and out of the window, when all he had to do was unlock the door once he was inside. It struck him as incredibly funny and he started to laugh while smoke tears ran down his face and the flames from the house started to lick at the sky.

Salvo returned alone that evening. Brandon bombarded him with questions, wanting news, but Salvo calmly explained that he had done nothing more than leave Jordan in the care of the guard right inside the palace entrance, before fixing dinner for Tigo to thank him for watching his shop during his absence.

Salvo didn't ask him about his day and Brandon didn't mention the map or the fact that Dathilda's house was now nothing more than a charred heap on the ground of the Inner City of Charion.

That evening, he sat in the back room of Salvo's shop, the map he took from Dathilda's house spread open in front of him on the tiny mattress.

He had seen a map of Charion at Anailde's house as well and was able to find her village of Torran easily. He placed a finger on the village. There was a small symbol near there that denoted, as Maralya had dubbed them, a "sacred place". There were, so far, seven of them on the map, with the names of them written out in the margins with Dathilda's careful hand.

The one close to Torran, that Brandon had called The Chimney, was labeled as the Stonestack.

He traced the path from Torran to their current location with his finger. Vinez, the town they were currently in, was a short distance from the palace in Driamor, the Inner city, where Jordan was right now.

Brandon paused in his studying of the map and tentatively let down the mental blocks around his mind. He had gotten to the point where he always carried them around, almost without being aware of it, like it was second nature. He reached out gently, searching for Jordan. He found their connection easily and latched onto it quickly. He felt a pulse, a warm reassurance from Jordan coming down through the link. Brandon smiled. He missed Jordan and wished he was there with him and he tried to somehow convey that through the link before gently disengaging.

He was safe. Jordan was safe. He would be satisfied with that for now.

Brandon knew the rules of Charion very well by this point, and one of the primary rules was that nobody got anything for free. Brandon found that out from Anailde, who immediately put him to work, in turn for providing shelter and tending to Jordan while he was ill. At Anailde's, however, he was mostly outside, doing physical chores. He wasn't athletic by any means, but he didn't mind physical labor or working hard, especially since he knew he was doing it for Jordan's well being.

But working with Salvo involved long hours in the back of the small shop, hot and stuffy during the long summer days, surrounded by the unpleasant smells and odors that permeated the shop as Brandon did boring, mundane tasks. Measuring, bagging, labeling packets of herbs and minerals.

It gave him a lot of time to think and worry. He didn't like the idea of Jordan wandering around somewhere in this strange new place without him, and the not knowing was driving him crazy.

He was grateful when midday arrived, when Salvo announced that Brandon could take a break. Salvo offered to provide lunch, but Brandon politely declined, eager to get out of the shop. He wandered to the main plaza that he had avoided the other day, glancing over shops and booths and groups of people gathered, talking and drinking. There was a babble of languages, some he didn't recognize. He eventually bought some food at a booth that had a large crowd around it... a good sign. He was given what looked like a normal loaf of bread that was warm and smelled pleasant, wrapped in a cloth. He settled himself down at what looked like a fountain, but instead of water, it was full of brightly colored flowers. He sat on the ridge and bit into the loaf, which was hollowed out in the middle and filled with a sharp, melted cheese. He ate it quickly, the strings of melted cheese dripping out against his lips and chin. It was like a Hot Pocket except it tasted about a million times better. After he finished eating, he leaned back on his hands, watching the scenery for a minute. The plaza was obviously a popular gathering place so there was plenty to see, the sun hot and bright on his shoulders and back, and after spending hours in the cramped, dim surroundings of Salvo's shop, it felt so good to be out here that he dreaded going back.

Deliberately loitering for a few moments, he walked around the plaza, stopped by the public well for a drink, and found himself back at the booth where the green girl was set up with her bells. She wasn't playing like she had been the other days, just ringing a few random bells from time to time as people walked by, or shaking her hips a little bit to cause a chiming sound.

Hesitantly, he drew a little closer, unable to take his eyes off of her. She was his. One of his Creations, here in flesh and blood. It was so unbelievable. If he felt this way just seeing a single creation, how must Keith feel, walking around in an entire world that belonged to him? He wondered what Keith would think if he knew Brandon was here. He wondered if Keith was even here.... He hadn't seen or heard anything about him. One of his concerns was that Keith might actually be at the castle, to keep an eye on Leia... He didn't want Jordan to run into him there.

He had lingered too long, he realized, caught up in his own thoughts. The woman had noticed him, eyeing him as he paused. She scowled as he approached.

"Look now-"

"I apologize," Brandon said quickly. She stopped in the middle of what she was going to say, staring at him. Brandon felt his face heat up, but forced himself to continue speaking. "I just--you're so beautiful. It's overwhelming and I forgot myself." He adopted a sheepish expression. "Sorry."

She smiled at him. "You're cute. What's your name?"

"Brandon. And yours?"

"Tananja." She inclined her head slightly and Brandon watched with amazement as strands of deep green hair slid over her shoulders. He had given her that. He had colored each strand.

"So, Lady Tananja," Brandon said. "How long have you been playing the bells?"

She glanced at him, then up at her bells, running a finger along a line of them contemplatively. "A while," she responded. "I had an interest in them ever since I can remember. Even when I was little. We had a bridle with bells that we would put on one of our horses and I was enchanted by the sound from the first moment I heard them. They were so different than the sound produced by other instruments, so clean and clear, crisp and fresh. My family was a little confused about it." She started to move slightly, swaying her hips and swinging her arms from side to side, making the bells she was wearing chime gently. "No one else in our family had ever showed an interest in music before. I was the first. I think they were a little disappointed that I didn't have an interest in the family business. I tried, but the desire to play and listen to the bells...It was so strong, like an obsession."

Brandon felt a flash of guilt. That had been his fault. He had made her that way. He had controlled her life, just by drawing her playing some bells, had laid a course for her entire life by causing her to fit what he had drawn.

Jordan's words echoed in his mind. We are Creators and Enablers, nothing more. We aren't Gods. He sure as hell hoped it was true, because he felt like a God and he didn't like it.

He realized that Tananja had stopped speaking and was staring at him curiously, like she was expecting him to say something.

"Did you make the bells that you play?" Brandon said. It sounded like it might be a dumb question, but it was the only thing he could think of.

"No. I have no talent at metal working. But I can tell you that these bells here are made of material taken from the Silver Falls."

"Those are one of the Sacred Places, right?" Brandon asked, testing his newfound knowledge. Dathilda's map had shown the Silver Falls, on the other side of Driamor . It was one of the few sacred places nearby. Some of them, like the Crystal Caverns, were all the way on the other side of the territory.

"Yes. The materials at and around the Silver Falls are of a purer sound and are fairly easy to mold into the correct shape..."

Brandon let Tananja talk a little bit, learning a little bit more about the Silver Falls. He still thought that The Chimney was the best bet out of this world when they had Leia, but he could still remember how much the hooping cat's claws had hurt him, and if he had to look at another option, he would.

* * *

When he returned, rather reluctantly, to Salvo's shop, he was greeted with pleasant news. Salvo grinned at him as he walked through the door.

"That friend of yours has a good head on his shoulders."

"Huh?"

"Check this out." Salvo passed a note to Brandon. Brandon fingered it briefly... It felt strange, heavy, like it was made out of fabric but it was stiff and smooth like paper. He read Jordan's handwriting and found himself reeling by how much he missed him...just by seeing those words, knowing that they had been penned by his hand.

No result from our current mixture today, but they are having me stay to make sure there are no ill effects. I give it three days before any attempts to correct the formula; however, I am confident I have a solution at hand.

"So?" Brandon asked.

Salvo rolled his eyes and took it back from him. "This is telling us several things. That he is being held at the palace for approximately three days. That's giving us a rendezvous date. And that he has a solution at hand. So in three days, he is going to meet us, and when he does, he is going to have a solution to get you into the palace."

"Oh," Brandon said. He felt stupid for not having seen that himself. Jordan knew the note would probably be intercepted or at least read by eyes that had no business seeing it. He had to make it sound like it was supposed to... an apprentice trying to communicate with his master.

But three days? How the hell was he supposed to last that long?

* * *

He spent the majority of his time in Salvo's shop, working hard even though it was something he despised doing. His mind ran constantly, thinking and worrying about Leia, playing memories of her over and over in his mind like a movie.

His first memory of her dated back to preschool. He was lying on a mat on the floor of the room for naptime. She was on the mat right next to him, in a sundress of small yellow and red flowers on a brown background. She had smiled at him before closing her eyes and going to sleep.

A simple memory.

Of sitting with her after school for hours after they had both missed their bus home, talking and waiting for Brandon's mom to get off of work so she could come and pick them up. They had been laughing at each other's lame jokes, and he thought of how pretty she had looked in her school outfit with her elaborate hairstyle and wandering just for a moment, what it might be like to date her.

One from last year, seeing Leia running from her front stoop, where she had been sitting and waiting for them to pick her up. They had been going to a concert; he couldn't remember who. But she had given him her trademark grin as she opened the door and launched herself inside, wedging herself in next to Brandon in the tightly packed vehicle.

Leia always had a beautiful smile. Just like Jordan. God, he loved them both so much.

Beautiful Leia.

Queen Leia.

It was time to bring her home.