“Have I mentioned how glad I am you decided to travel with me?” I asked Durz, as we sat down at a corner table in the Four Shields Inn in Dragon Bridge.
“Yes you have,” he replied with a grin. “Of course, I really had no choice after you STOLE from the tribe.”
“They were just little things,” I objected for the fourteenth time. “Who cares about a random herb here or there?”
“The Code of Malacath…” he started, but I raised my hand.
“I know, I know, and you’re right. It was stupid and I should have thought about what I was doing.”
“Just be glad you didn’t get caught.”
“I’ll never do it again,” I promised. “I like your people, and I want to be welcome to come back. But I was ready for a break. It’s really different in the strongholds.”
He nodded. “Even I had trouble adjusting after being gone so long, and I grew up in Orsinium.”
We’d been traveling down the Karth. Our first destination had been Karthwasten, where we’d delivered a sword to the daughter of Dusnikh-Yal’s forge-wife. She’d not been happy to receive the present, reading meaning into it that I had not understood, but she’d accepted it with good grace and paid me for my trouble. Then we’d continued down river to meet up with the main road, which crossed here at Dragon Bridge. This was our first stop at an inn since we’d left the stronghold. A hot meal and a good mead sounded like just the thing, and here came the serving girl.
She was halfway to us when she turned white as a sheet and dropped her platters and steins with a clatter.
“Hey now, girl,” called Durz. “We won’t bite. Good thing those were wooden!”
Flustered, the girl picked up the dropped platters and hurried over to our table.
“Lucy?” she asked in an urgent whisper. “Is that really you?”
I stared at her face, recognition slowly dawning. “Julienne!” I said. “I didn’t recognize you in those clothes… and in this place… and you’re all clean!”
The last time I’d seen her, this girl had been an orphan pickpocket. Her younger brother had been a new member of the Thieves Guild. They had no folks and they squatted in one of the worst parts of the Warrens. Now here she was, clean and wearing a new dress, working tables in the Four Shields.
“And you,” she said, “Wearing… that, and travelling with… him!” She didn’t seem uncomfortable. Far from it, she seemed bursting to tell her story.
“Yeah, funny how things work out,” I agreed to cover her stuttering. “So you’re looking really well! How’d you end up here? Is Clinton here as well? It’d be great to see him.”
He’s here,” she said, smiling. “He wants to be a soldier, of all things. You’ll find him ‘patrolling’ the town with his goat.”
“A soldier?” I said in amused surprise. “When did that start? Last I remember, he cried whenever he saw a guardsman. I was trying to train it out of him.”
“Lots of things are different here. The soldiers were kind to us when we came here.” Julienne’s eyes shone like stars, and she bit her lip to hold it back.
“Spit it out!” I told her. “I want to hear your adventure!”
“OK! So you heard about the Gallows Riot? Yes? Well we forced open the gates and spilled out of the city like water flooding from a broken dam—people running everywhere, everyone for themselves, guards in pursuit. Clinton and me, we held hands so we wouldn’t get separated. That night, we met up with a married couple who’d done the same thing, and we agreed to travel together. He was an ex-soldier, so it was safer. We traveled down the Karth, trying to get out anywhere there weren’t any Forsworn or Silverblood thugs or anyone else from Markarth.
“When we first came here, we almost just kept walking, ‘cuz of the Legion outpost, but we were so hungry, and it was the Legionnaires there that fed us. They had no idea what had been happening in Markarth. We told them we were a family, and we’d left Markarth because of the poverty. We found out this farm across the way was unoccupied. The old couple had died, and the soldiers were looking for their next of kin. Papa managed to trick them into letting slip the name, and so now he’s the adopted son of ‘Logroth the Bent’ and we have the deed to the farm.”
“Wow!” I said, “That’s great! So now you work the inn, and Clinton patrols the town with a goat, and you both have parents. I can’t tell you how much that cheers me up! That’s the happiest news I’ve heard since, well… ever!”
She giggled. “If anyone asks, our name is Lylvieve now. And where have you been since the riots? Everyone’s been looking for you.”
“Looking for me?” I asked, suddenly suspicious. “Who is everyone?”
“Ooooohhh…. I can’t keep it secret any longer! You just have to see for yourself. Follow me!” She spun on her heals and ran out of the Four Shields, the proprietor calling after her in annoyance.
I looked at Durz. He shrugged. We got up and ambled after her. By the time we got outside, she was across the street, standing in a doorway; calling, “Mama! Papa! Come outside right now! We’ve got company!”
The occupants burst onto the porch, brandishing farm implements as weapons.
“Muh…” I nearly collapsed right there in the street when I saw their faces. Tears sprang to my eyes. “Ma?” I choked out. “Da?”
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I've read all of your journals and though this is my first comment I just wanted to say thanks, they were amazing!