In Which Ceidrid Is an Upstanding Citizen

April 19, 1164

Rifden had been complaining of headaches lately, so today, Ceidrid had left him in Alsina's charge and headed to the village for some herbs from Laveria. Fortunately, she hadn't been particularly busy--and it didn't hurt that Ceidrid's brother was one of the healer's close friends--so he'd managed to get what he needed fairly quickly. Now, all he had to do was head back home and boil them in a pail-full of water from the well, and hopefully the kid would shut up about his headaches, therefore preventing any in either of his siblings. Oh well; at least Rifden didn't have anything serious. By this point, the Wythleits were well aware of what "serious" was, and this wasn't it.

"Look, I really have to get going..."

"Oh, but what's the rush?"

The voices were coming from the narrow gap between Laveria and Jothein's respective shops. Ceidrid recognized the first voice as Florian's, but the second was unfamiliar--breathy, feminine, and lyrical. Curious, he approached the end of Laveria's wall and peered around the corner; he knew it was rude to spy and eavesdrop, but he just had to see if that pretty voice had a pretty face to match it.

"I've told you three times already, I'm a happily married man!" Florian snapped. "You're an attractive young thing, and I'm sure you're absolute wildfire in bed, but I love my wife, all right? Can't you just get that? God, why couldn't you have come around when I was single? Or were you even born back then?"

"I'm seventeen!" insisted the girl.

Florian snorted. "I doubt you're even fifteen."

"You could split me open and count my rings, if you want."

Florian shifted, allowing Ceidrid to catch sight of the girl's face; he realized that the man had been wrong to call her attractive. To say she was attractive was insufficient. That was to say that the sun was only as bright as a candle, or that the smell of freshly baked bread was merely pleasant. Ceidrid searched his head for a word to more aptly describe this girl, only to find that either he did not know one, or it had yet to be coined.

She sent a smile Florian's way; if Ceidrid squinted, he could imagine it was directed at him. "You know, a man can love his wife and still have his fun on the side. Get with the times, you geezer."

Florian only laughed. "I'll have you know that I'm all sexed out right now. If you really want to get with me, maybe try right after my wife has a baby--and I'll still probably say no."

The girl raised an eyebrow. "Probably? What do you mean, 'probably'?"

"I mean 'we're not bumping uglies'."

Why should she be so intent on sleeping with Florian? It wasn't as if there weren't any other interested male parties around; what did Florian have that Cei--er, other men didn't?

"Besides, I don't even have any money on me."

...oh. Indeed, Ceidrid certainly didn't have much of that.

"Oh, stop making excuses," the girl scolded; there was something about her face, Ceidrid noticed, that seemed vaguely familiar. "It's starting to get annoying."

Annoying? So, she was past that point of wanting him as a customer--he was now bothering her. And what sort of citizen would Ceidrid be if he didn't come to the aid of a young woman in need?

"Florian!" he gasped, sharply turning the corner and dashing between the two of them. "Florian, thank God I found you! You, uh... you're needed! Uh... Falidor's house is on fire!"

Falidor's house is on fire? Where the hell had that come from? He really should have thought this through...

Florian blinked. "...What?"

Ceidrid nodded. "I can't believe I made it in time! Really, I'm surprised you can't see the smoke from here--I've never seen such a fire in my life! They need all the help they can get! I'll get Jothein and Willott--you get over to Falidor's as quick as you can!"

From the look in his eyes, Ceidrid couldn't be sure if Florian truly believed him or if it had just suddenly dawned on him that he was bothering this girl; nevertheless, he swallowed and took off in the direction of Falidor's house. "Don't worry, Falidor! I'll get there in time to save you and your children--but hopefully not in time to save your wife as well!"

Something told Ceidrid that he'd been grateful for the excuse to say something like that.

As Florian bolted out of sight, Ceidrid turned around to face the girl. God, those eyes were unlike anything he had ever seen... and yet, he could have sworn he'd seen them before...

"You're welcome."

"Hey!" he exclaimed as her hand flew across his face, leaving a stinging sensation disproportionate to its delicate size. "What the hell was that for?"

The girl scowled; somehow, she was still rather beautiful. "I'll tell you what the hell that was for! For costing me breakfast, that's what! And I was getting so close, too!"

Ceidrid shook his head in desperate protest. "You were not! Besides, you said he was getting annoying!"

"I didn't mean I wanted some kid to come and chase him off!"

In truth, Ceidrid hadn't really been listening. Somehow, the girl's eyes had set themselves upon another face, one a little older, a little worldlier, framed by unrestrained mahogany hair instead of raven braids...

"I just figured out who you sort of look like."

The girl blinked. "Sorry?"

Ceidrid nodded. "I thought you looked a little familiar! You look a bit like Mistress Indruion."

The corners of her mouth forming a thoughtful frown, the girl drummed her fingers against her chin. "Can't say the name rings a bell. Is that her married name?"

"Yes. Her first name is Honora, if that helps. I'm not sure what her maiden name is, though."

The girl pursed her lips. "What does she look like?"

"Like you," he answered, "only twenty-something and not quite as pretty. I don't really know her too well, though, so I can't tell you much else about her."

In an instant, the girl's face was inches from his own, her eyes bright, her smile wide; he did not know whether to lean forward or back. "Oh... but you can take me to her, right? I would quite like to meet this Mistress Indruion."

Ceidrid felt himself stumbling, though he could not remember even moving his feet. "Well... that might be a little presumptuous of me. Like I said, I don't really--"

"I'll make it worth your while."

Could she have possibly meant what he thought she did?

"I... I... I'm Ceidrid," he choked, hoping he'd managed to pronounce his own name right. "Ceidrid Wythleit."

"Ceidrid Wythleit," she repeated, bowing slightly and slipping her hand in his own; it was like holding the spring's first blossom. "I'm Evaleith. Evaleith Ladell."

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