Chapter 11: Married Life - Job Hunt

The next morning Nesiara woke alone. Weak predawn light struggled past an overcast sky. Yawning, she stretched, still not yet use to her husband’s early rising routine. So far that had been the only habit of his she couldn’t fathom. There was just something wrong about people who liked to wake early.

The memory of the night before caused her to hesitate before she rolled out of bed. It wasn’t her place to question her new father, any parent for that matter, but she thought it was unfair and undeserved. Elves needed more people like her husband, not less. He shouldn’t be intimidated out of using such a necessary skill.

As she dressed she made up her mind to talk to Valendrian. They needed to stand up as a community and be allowed the luxury of a healer, a luxury for them that any human would have access to. She descended the latter to find both men quietly eating a simple breakfast of boiled oats, an egg each, and tea. Her chest tightened when she saw her husband’s head still bent low.

“So,” she said into the silence as she took her place, “I’ll be going with you to Alarith’s this morning. I need some extra fabric for our wedding clothes.”

“I won’t be there for long,” Raviathan said, keeping his eyes on his breakfast.

“Oh?” That was unexpected. Deliveries?

Cyrion added, “He’ll be going out with Soris to find a regular job.”

“Oh.” Nesiara picked at her food. It had been wonderful to get to know each other the last month. She was going to miss having time with him, teasing and talking. And making love. She bent over her oats, eating slowly. Now that she was here he had less reason to take care of the day to day chores. She had expected another month at least. Still, she could talk to Valendrian. A healer was too vital. The three ate in silence and left the home just as quietly.

When Cyrion turned down the main road, Nesiara took her husband’s hand. “You do the Maker’s work, my love. I’ll always be proud of you.” Raviathan squeezed her hand but said nothing.

Isa was behind the counter at Alarith’s shop. The young elf fidgeted as she listened to him, her too knowing eyes hard with ugly memories. “Be careful who you work for. Braden is well connected.”

There was no way for him to know who was under the noble’s influence. Saying so would only worry Nesiara more, so Raviathan nodded. “How are you feeling?” he asked to deflect any other advice.

“I’m okay. Getting used to things here. I liked having you teach me. You’re a lot more patient than Alarith.”

Raviathan gave her a quick smile but said nothing.

“Hey, cousin,” Soris called when he came in to pick up his lunch. He gave Isa and Nesiara a nod then covered a wide yawn.

After giving his wife a last kiss, Raviathan followed Soris out the door. It wasn’t until Soris and Raviathan left the shop that Raviathan explained his father’s decision. “I expect he talked to Valendrian before he went to work,” Raviathan said low so the other elves leaving for work would not overhear them. “To make sure Valendrian enforces his decision.”

“I’m not sure everyone is going to listen to Valendrian though. If one of the children is sick, Venri wouldn’t give a damn what Valendrian says.”

Though Raviathan had clashed with the orphanage matron on occasion, he rather liked the pragmatic woman. She was harassed and tired, but she also took no nonsense when it came to her charges. “Well, it’s not my problem anymore.”

Soris gave his cousin a sidelong look. “Uh-huh.”

Raviathan sighed. “I don’t know what to say, cousin. I’ve disappointed my father so much in the past.”

“You make him proud, too.” Soris put an arm around his cousin’s shoulders. “He has a right to be worried, and that’s all this is.”

When they neared the gates, they stepped apart to mimic the human patterns of behavior. For some elves, it was as automatic as putting on a coat when they left their home, but for Raviathan and Soris, it was a reminder that they were stepping into unprotected territory. “So, any leads?”

“None,” Soris said. “Work is tight. I almost signed up with the other elves to go with the King’s army, but Valora was worried. With some of the elves leaving with the army, I was hoping there might be some openings, but so far nothing. I’ve searched the Market and west side. Now it’s the south side.”

They traveled in a circuit around the outside of the Market. If Soris wondered why Raviathan took the more circuitous route furthest away from the Chantry, he didn’t say anything. Solyn’s death cast a long shadow.

“So, how are you and Valora doing?”

Eyes downcast, Soris shrugged. “Alright I suppose. She’s a nice person.”

It was a less than ringing endorsement considering they were already a month into their handfasting. “Have you... ?”

Soris’s shoulders hunched, which was reply enough. “I ... Maker’s breath. I don’t know what to do. I can see she’s trying, but it’s all awkward conversation. Or awkward silences. I just keep thinking ... well ... that we’re supposed to, you know. And I know she’s thinking that too. There’s all this pressure, but I don’t even know her.”

“You only get to know her by talking.”

“That’s part of what makes it so awkward. I look at her, and I think this is it. The rest of my life. With her.”

Raviathan had thought the exact same phrase, but their tones couldn’t be any more different. “Have you tried something simple? Like holding her hand?”

“Yes, I’ve tried. Her hand was cold and limp. I felt like I was going to break it or bruise her or something.”

“You know, Soris, it was awkward for Ness and me too, in the beginning.”

Soris snorted. “That lasted for what? An hour?”

Two actually, but Raviathan couldn’t say that. “The only difference is that we both kept pushing through until it wasn’t awkward anymore. It’s like when we go swimming. You can try going inch by inch to get accustomed to the cold, or you jump in because once your head is under, you don’t care that much.”

“I think if I jumped in, she’d call the guards. Or I would. Agh. Can we just drop it? I know you’re trying to help...”

“Sure, cousin.” Raviathan wondered about his cousin as they made their way through the labyrinthine streets. Was courting Valora difficult because Soris was an orphan? The bonding of a family was tight, and there was no greater fear like being alone. An elf on their own, like Shianni or the orphans, invoked the greatest sense of pity in an alienage.

When Raviathan reflected on his cousins’ lack of family, he was reminded of just how lucky he was. For a week after her death, the three remaining inhabitants of their apartment slept in the large bed together. Later, when Raviathan had bad dreams, he had snuck into Solyn’s bed. The two of them would practically sleep on top of each other in her half of the bunk bed, but the sleep they had was sound. Especially after his mother’s death, Solyn needed Raviathan’s comfort as much as he needed hers.

When Raviathan asked his aunt why their sleep was soothed by the presence of a loved one, Solyn had explained that their souls traveled together in the Fade, the realm of dreams. The elven affinity for magic made their Fade journey that much stronger for their race as a whole. Sleeping was the most intimate of interactions because you were binding yourself to another while your psyche was laid bare in the Fade. Sometimes the dreamers had the same dream, but that was rare. More often it was like the dreamers existed in different rooms in the same house, together and separate. An orphan rarely had the experience of Fade binding. They were neglected children who never learned proper social interaction.

There was only so much Venri could do. No matter how giving one woman could be, all those children grew up without learning the natural instincts of elves, instincts that family bonding instilled. Soris had told him that the orphans would cry in the night. Many paired up to sleep though that was discouraged as they aged, which Raviathan found heartbreaking even though he understood the reason. Those children were starved for love. Raviathan was going to miss playing with them and telling stories. It felt like he was taking bread away from an emaciated beggar.

They had to double back out of a dead end, both watching for gangs. Denerim was an easy city to get lost in. An arch could be the entrance to a courtyard of a noble, a relic of a building that either continued to another street or a dead end, or a marker of a district. The complex city gave gangs an advantage, and two elves were easy and rather petty prey.

Back on a main street, Soris spoke again. “Did I tell you? Shianni is going to let us live with her once we’re married.”

Raviathan squeezed Soris’s shoulder. “That’s good news. It’ll take some of the pressure off.” If they were in the alienage, Raviathan would have left his arm around his cousin’s shoulders. One glance at the cold shems with their flat eyes was reminder enough. It was like Soris and Raviathan were in another country, or even a separate realm, like the Fade where all the rules were different. At least in the Fade, Raviathan had a handle on the rules.

“So,” Soris said when they came to a neighborhood square. “How about you take left, I’ll go right, and we meet in the middle?”

“Just go shop to shop and ask them if they have any positions open?”

“Pretty much. Let me tell you, hearing about a hundred no’s in a row is pretty depressing. Don’t let it get to you. What Valendrian said was that even if you get a thousand no’s, all you need is one yes.”

Squaring his shoulders for the task ahead, Raviathan nodded. The two parted, and Raviathan entered the first small shop on the left, a small tailor’s shop. A bell sounded when Raviathan pushed open the door, and a tiny wizened human came out from the back. His hair was white, and he wore a smart outfit with bands around his arms to keep the fabric away from his work. “I’m looking for work,” Raviathan started.

“No,” the man said turning back to the small room.

“I know how to sew. I can mend...”

“Said no. Be on your way.”

No number one, Raviathan thought as he left the store. Nine hundred and ninety nine more to go.

~o~O~o~

Nesiara left the store with an earthen brown silk swatch that would compliment her husband’s skin tone. Spying Valendrian in the square, she hurried over to him. “Hahren. I need a word with you.”

A bakery vendor was setting up his stall, and elves passed by on their way to work. The aged elf put an arm around her shoulders. “Not here,” he said leading her to his home on the other side of the square.

Considering he had no family, Nesiara was surprised by the opulence of his home. Two whole rooms for one elf, and it was so well furnished. Even proper carpets made of minuscule, time consuming knot work, not the corded rags of her own home. “Have a seat, young one.”

Valendrian set bread, a jar of preserves, and tea before her, customary for a guest. “Thank you, hahren.”

“Now.” Valendrian sat with her. “This is about Raviathan.”

Nesiara nodded, her eyes roaming over the large interior. “Yes, hahren.” She shook herself. “Ser, would you talk to father about letting Rav practice medicine? I...”

Valendrian took her hand between his own, his aged skin like warm parchment, dry and fine. Arthritis knotted his knuckles. “Youngin, before you go on, I understand. We need someone with his skills. It’s why I said nothing for years, and in doing so, betrayed a friend.”

“Then why?”

“You didn’t see what happened to her. Solyn was a capable woman. I suspect she had the same training her sister did. You know about Adaia? Who she was and how she died?” Nesiara nodded. Shianni had told her how Raviathan’s mother had died. A group of violent shems came to the alienage. They were stronger. They had weapons. The elves had nothing except one woman who would fight back and was mortally wounded in the process. Valendrian rubbed Nesiara’s hand as he turned inward in memory. “You have no idea the pain we all went through when Solyn disappeared. Ness, what I’m to say to you does not leave this house. Alarith doesn’t need any more pain. Neither does Cyrion or Raviathan. Your word.”

“Yes, hahren. I swear.”

“You need to understand what’s at stake. Otherwise I would not speak of it.” Valendrian squeezed her hand, his head bowed. “She was a good woman. There were times I thought we were blessed by the Maker to have such a woman here.” Valendrian raised his head, years of sorrow lining his aged face. “For weeks she was left in an alley hidden by garbage. Naked. Beaten to death, tortured, old blood down her legs. You can’t imagine what it was like. Rav only found her because she started to rot in the summer heat. Ness, we all suffered when she was lost.

“Ask yourself if you’re willing to lose your husband. Have him disappear one day. Before Solyn died, I would have said the needs of everyone outweigh some remote chance ... but after? I’ve seen people in grief. It’s all too easy for one heartbroken elf, too hurt to think beyond their pain ... Solyn was alone, and her training just wasn’t enough to protect her. I won’t put Rav in that position. Can you understand that Ness?”

Nesiara sipped her tea taking the time to consider. “Hahren, I respect you, and I respect my father. I can’t help but feel this decision is a waste. If there’s a danger, then we find ways to minimize it. What happened to his aunt is a tragedy, but I don’t see why...”

Valendrian raised a hand for silence. “I have other reasons.”

“Other reasons? Hahren...”

“Rumors and suspicions, nothing I can give voice to yet, but enough that I feel this is the correct course of action. At least for now.” He rubbed his forehead, his creased lips pressed closed. “Ness, I understand your frustrations. I share them. One day I hope the alienage can have the healer it needs.”

Nesiara clasped her hands under the table, worry tightening her chest. What could make her hahren fear so? “Is it serious?”

“A reason for caution. Ness, your husband is dear to me. This decision is for him. Be patient.”

“Yes, hahren.”

“If anything becomes serious, I’ll let you know. For now, don’t let shadows trouble you. I’d rather be overly cautious than wrong.”

“Thank you, hahren.” Nesiara kissed his cheek in parting. Though comforted by Valendrian’s precautions, Nesiara wondered what danger her husband could be in. Both his mother and aunt died in violent attacks. Could it have something to do with Adaia being a bard? Spy and thief, she must have made enemies. If Solyn had the same training, could both their deaths actually have been assassinations rather than random murders? It seemed clear that in Solyn’s case it was deliberate. Did Rav know why? He was so certain it had been templars. Did Solyn do something to upset the Chantry? Nesiara clutched the wrapped fabric to her chest. That didn’t explain why becoming a healer would be dangerous for her husband.

“Hey, cousin,” Shianni said. “Didn’t you hear me?”

“What? Oh, sorry. I guess I was lost in thought,” Nesiara said and tried to smile.

Shianni laughed to her confusion. “You and Rav are quite the pair. He gets like that all the time. I’ll be screaming bloody murder, and he’ll look up, ‘huh? Did you say something?’” Shianni linked her arm with Nesiara viewing the package with interest. “Is that the new fabric?”

“Yes.”

“Oh good. Valora is coming over to my place, so we can work on these.” Shianni glanced around to make sure no one was in ear shot. “I got a bottle of wine,” she whispered. “We can make a party of it.”

It wasn’t even noon yet. Nesiara shook her head awed by Shianni’s endless stomach. Her cousin’s bright mood was infectious, and Nesiara let thoughts of intrigue go. Valendrian was looking out for them, and if there was something serious, her husband would tell her.

“Get out you thieving knife ears. We’ve got no work for your kind.”

“But I know how to cook,” Raviathan said following the great human around a bann’s kitchen. The man stank of alcohol, and large stains from sweat and grease covered his clothes. Working for a drunk carried a host of problems, and Raviathan knew he’d be dodging fists on bad days. “My grandmother cooked for a lord and taught me everything. I can make breads, desserts, and I know six basic sauce types. I’m fast too. Give me a carrot and tell me how you want it...”

The human rounded on him, his red face turning purple, the broken capillaries on his nose ready to burst. “I said no! I’m sick to death of you bloody knife ears dirtying up my kitchen! Out!”

Depressing wasn’t the word for it. The shadows cast by the buildings were growing long, and Raviathan felt miserable as he left the back door of the estate.

At the end of the first day, Soris and Raviathan had returned home in defeat. After another week of looking, Soris had found work in the carpenter’s hall. The job was little more than cleaning and serving the craft masters and their journeymen, but at least it was solid work. Raviathan was glad for his cousin as Soris didn’t have a family to help supplement his income. Searching for work without his cousin for moral support was a much tougher grind though.

Even when there was work available, Raviathan had yet to find a place that would hire an elf. He had begged at the book stores and music shops he had come across until the owners threatened to call the guards. One owner had taken a swipe at his head with a lute case. The rejections were all the worse because he had the skills for that kind of work. More than any other child in the alienage, he had spent most of his life training.

Denerim wasn’t the same city it had been weeks ago. With the lords off to war, many elven servants found themselves out of work. Grand estates stood dark and empty, locked up with a minimal guard. Once the nobles returned, floors would need sweeping, banquets cooked, sheets washed, piss bowels emptied, and all the hundreds of other jobs fit for lowly knife ears. Elves were the most expendable, the first to go. With rising food costs, faces in the alienage were getting leaner. Luckily, his father had been with Bann Rodolf long enough that his job was secure.

More than the lack of work, half the guards had left with the soldiers. Since Raviathan had rarely left the alienage before, he didn’t notice much of a difference, but the other elves never left alone anymore. He wasn’t sure how much of that was paranoia, but there were more bruises and black eyes around the alienage. Paranoia or not, he made Nesiara promise not to leave the alienage without Alarith as her escort. As his mother would say, there was daring, and there was stupid. Taking precautions never hurt.

Outside the of the estate’s high walled courtyard, the wind picked up. Raviathan hunched against the cold that whipped around him and chapped his ears. Time to go back to the alienage anyway. Raviathan left the estates along south side the river, the wind creating a low howl along the stone walls of the canal. Home wasn’t much warmer lately. His father had said little during the last week, and dinner was tense despite Nesiara’s attempts to liven conversation. Raviathan wondered if there ever going to be a time when he didn’t have to hide or feel shame. At least with his wife he never felt that way.

Thoughts of Nesiara lifted his mood as he trotted through the streets. Every day he returned home heart sick, the incessant rejections and slurs making him feel like a failure. She would greet him, but he would not say a word. Instead, Raviathan went to her, buried his face in her sweet smelling hair, felt her soft curves press against him. He would linger there and let the chaos and weight drain away as her warmth revived him. Nesiara held him, and in their quiet embrace, his peace would return.

Nessa was still settling in, and Raviathan got the impression that her own home had been a quiet one. Having known him since childhood, Nessa was surprised by Raviathan’s silence, but he simply didn’t feel like talking lately. It was enough to be home and listen to his wife. He enjoyed hearing about her day, the crafts she was planning, or what gossip she had about the elves. Just being with her was calming. He would hold her hand under the table, thankful for her presence. Raviathan knew Nesiara was worried by his silence. When they went to bed in the evening, he would speak to her without words, show her the love he held for her alone.

A blurry lunge, and jaws snapped a foot away from Raviathan’s face. Raviathan jerked back, his heart racing. The ragged dog snarled and snapped, straining at the length of his chain. The shem holding the dog laughed displaying yellow teeth that stuck out in all directions. Strong arms grasped Raviathan when he bumped into the shem behind him. The dog yowled, lunging for him again. Raviathan flinched, wrenching as far away as he could in his trap.

“Something about knife ears he just hates,” the man holding the dog said. His arms jerked each time the dog launched himself, each snap coming that much closer. The dog, a scrawny, blue grey deerhound, started to choke but did not relent. The chain rattled and snapped taut when he lunged again, his forelegs off the ground. His fur was gone where the chain had rubbed it off, his skin raw underneath. Raviathan’s heart beat wildly, his bowels clenched. Though shocked by the dog’s attack, Raviathan couldn’t help but feel pity for the crazed animal. “He’d take off that pretty face, he would. Whew, would you just look at him.” The dog gagged, slobber and a trail of green vomit dripping from the howling animal.

“Let me go.” Raviathan flinched again when the dog backed up and lunged forward. Struggle as he might, the thick shem behind him had him in an iron grip. “I don’t have any money.”

“Your kind never does,” the shem holding him said. Just the shem’s massive forearms, straining at the cloth of his shirt, were larger than Raviathan’s thighs.

“Heh, look at him. ‘Bout ready to piss himself, he is.”

Raviathan caught the eye to two elves on the other end of the street staring at the scene. They hunched, their heads down, and hurried away. Not that he expected them to intervene. Three elves against two humans and a dog wasn’t a fair fight, but they didn’t even shout for help. Raviathan’s disgust for them matched his own for not paying attention. His mother had taught him better.