This short story takes place during Nobody Knows Me. You can read the first chapter of the novel here!
"It's how far?" asked Asp.
"Out to the north coast," said Jehosaphat. "You could be there and back in half a day if you're quick."
"Ain't many people quicker than you," said Dancer, smiling at Asp.
Asp blushed. "You think?"
"Remember when you had that one job where you had to get a bunch of different guards to agree to share information on other guards?" asked Dancer.
Asp laughed sharply, then covered her face. "Yes, I remember that."
"Need more be said?" teased Dancer.
"Yes, actually," said Jehosaphat. "It's worth actually saying it: we expected it to be a week-long project. You got enough dirt on guards to keep us more than safe, and you did it in not quite two hours."
Asp blushed again, but dramatically curtsied.
"What do you even say to people to get them talking like that?" Dancer leaned in conspiratorially.
Asp stuck her tongue out. "Wouldn't you like to know?"
"Actually yes!" said Dancer. "I still don't know if it's believable."
"Well . . ." began Asp.
"You don't have to share if you don't want to," interjected Jehosaphat. "Trade secrets are fair for keeping."
Asp considered this, then shrugged. "I don't think either of you could reenact it anyway. The thing with guards is you have to immediately get on their good side. No room for error. Some guard doesn't like your looks, you move right on. But once a guard trusts you, they'll say anything."
Dancer squinted at Asp, a faint smile on his face. "That's just specific enough to technically answer my question and just vague enough to not be actually helpful."
Jehosaphat grinned slightly. "Classic con tactic. Useful for changing the subject."
"Speaking of which," said Asp playfully, "you said it's on the north coast. Earlier, you said it was a very small town. Do I get to know anything else?"
"That's all we know," said Jehosaphat, polishing his spectacles. "Wait, was the 'speaking of which' supposed to mean you were changing the subject, or that I was stopping short of being helpful?"
Asp smiled innocently. "Yes," she said simply.
Dancer cackled, holding his belly, and Jehosaphat rolled his eyes.
"Better get to it," said Asp. "See you this evening," she added, slipping out of the room, down the hall, and out the door toward the north gate of town.
---
The sunlight filtered through clumps of clouds, leaving the road north feeling moderate and pleasant. Asp was dressed as Delia and allowed herself long looks up at the bright sky in between scans of the road ahead and its surroundings, searching for possible threats. Ever since her brush with the vicious highwaymen on the road in her first weeks in Strey, traveling had been nerve-wracking, but she tried to reason with herself: It's a different road, I've already passed where any normal thugs would wait, and the odds of running into them again would be ridiculous. Relax.
But she couldn't truly relax, not even as the beautiful sky overhead distracted her. Which was probably why she was not at all taken off guard when a large cart rounded the outcropping of trees ahead. Driving the cart was an older bearded orc with a straw hat; behind him, the cart was full of ears of corn and a few sealed barrels. As they neared each other, the orc slowed the mule pulling it and waved hello.
"Howdy, friend!" cried Asp cheerfully, quite effectively hiding her anxiety at meeting a stranger all alone.
"How do you do?" asked the orc politely, his pronunciation stilted.
Recognizing that this orc likely spoke little Common, Asp replied slowly, enunciation as he had. "I am well. How do you do?"
"It is sunny," he said plainly. "I am not hungry." He patted his belly. "I am very well."
Asp smiled broadly. "You have a good day."
The orc smiled vaguely, then squinted his eyes like he was staring into the sun. "Where am I?" he asked softly.
Asp considered the question. After a moment, she said, "On the road, in the north, on the Island of Strey. You came from a small town?"
The orc smiled but said nothing.
"I think it's called Highfield?" Asp offered.
The orc shrugged. "Good luck!" he said. He snapped the reins on the mule, and in a moment, Asp was alone on the road, watching a cartload of corn disappear.
"Hi!" said a small, feminine voice behind Asp. She spun around and saw a young gnomish girl staring up at her. The girl was clad in green-and-black plaid with shiny steel buttons.
"Um. Hi?" managed Asp after a moment. "Where'd you come from?"
"I was on the back of that guy's cart," said the gnomish girl. "Unless you mean like I came from my mommy."
Asp relaxed a bit at this explanation. "Just riding around on carts, all secret-like?"
"It's more fun when it's a secret," said the girl with a devious grin.
Ain't that the truth, Asp thought. "What other secrets do you know?"
The girl's grin grew more devious. "I know that secrets are worth things to people. And that's a good secret to know."
Asp smiled like a proud mother. "That is a good secret. Hey, tell you what," said Asp, leaning down to the girl, "let's trade a secret. You tell me about the little town on the coast, and I'll tell you a secret."
The girl eyed Asp warily. "What kinda secret?" she demanded.
"Dealer's choice," said Asp playfully. "What do you want to know about?"
The young gnome thought for a minute, then smiled.
I know that smile. She thinks she's got one over on me. Asp smiled back, her amusement at the girl's strategizing coming to the surface. Let's see if she does.
"Do you know how to lie so good that even your parents can't tell?"
Asp couldn't help herself--she laughed, and hard. But she recognized the importance of the situation to the girl and sobered herself.
"I'm sorry, hun. I don't mean to laugh. That's actually a really good question. And I can answer it." She paused. "But I need you to tell me about the town first."
The girl looked up at Asp and mulled it over. "I don't have a choice, huh?"
"Not really," said Asp gently. "But that's okay, because neither do I. We're just making a trade and staying even."
The young gnome stretched, almost like a cat in its slowness and deliberateness. "The town is hard to find. The road disappears. You have to follow the shadows."
Asp blinked a few times. "Follow the shadows? Won't that just lead me in circles?"
"Shadows at morn to arrive in Highfield,
And shadows at eve to the place that is sealed.
The sunlight by morn to get you to Strey,
And sunlight by eve, never you shall dismay." The young girl recited the lines atonally but in singsong rhythm.
"Wait," said Asp, feeling dizzy. "What's all this now?"
"Silly," said the girl. "To get to Highfield, you either walk on the shadows in the morning or the sunlight in the evening. To get to Strey again, you avoid the shadows in the morning or the shadows in the evening."
"Okay . . . Must be a Highfield rhyme?" Asp suddenly felt overwhelmed. "Wait, Strey is sealed?"
"There's a gate around it," explained the girl. "Now, how do you lie to your parents?"
Asp looked solemn. "Who's the first person you tell a lie?"
"Depends," said the child. "On the lie, I mean."
"Wrong," said Asp. "You tell the lie to yourself. Again and again. You have to actually believe it, so you lie to yourself over and over until you know it. And then you tell your parents, or whoever. Because if you believe it . . ."
The girl's eyes widened in wonder. ". . . Then you're not lying."
"Exactly," said Asp, beaming. If I needed a protégé, she'd be great. I hope she does well. "Are we square?"
"It really works?" asked the girl.
"It works," said Asp. "I promise."
The girl laughed mischievously and ran off down the road after the cart.
Asp turned and faced the road again. Into the sunshine, she thought. And onward.
---
Asp had steered to the west along the more lighted regions of the island's northern area, skirting the shadows cast to the east. She cut through a dense thicket when there was no other way around, and just at the edge of a clearing ahead lay a faint path--just barely perceptible, but the falling light made the contrast easier to notice. She joined the path which curved to the right, and ahead was a small burg next to the glittering sea.
Kid checks out. Now, down to business.
Asp hurried toward town, then slowed once she could clearly see the village and adopted a more deliberate pace. Minutes later, she stepped into town and surveyed the place as she walked. There were small buildings, most of which were well-made, and all of which had simple lanterns hanging from posts near their front doors.
Interesting. Most places, not everybody does the same thing. What's going on here?
The streets were empty. Asp scanned the area, looking for a tavern. A few blocks down, a cheer from several voices attracted her attention. Sure enough, the familiar sounds of a tavern drifted down from there, and she smiled. She resumed her casual pace and made for the door.
Inside were a half-dozen people of all kinds--a dwarven farmer, a gnomish smith, an elven tailor--who all quieted suddenly as Asp entered. All their eyes turned to her. Asp felt their gaze like the weight of a saddle, and like a saddle, it threatened to make her carry the heavy weight of the situation.
"Howdy, everyone!" Asp said in a near-shout, trying to make her enthusiasm infectious.
The room was silent until the bartender, a broad half-elven woman, spoke. "What's your business, stranger?" Her tone was flat.
Oh, thought Asp. It's that kind of small town. Shit. Quick, say something.
"I come seeking assistance," she said in faux confidence. "I need help with a problem that's . . . somewhat personal."
"Personal business is not for public ears," said the dwarven farmer, snorting.
"That's why I'm not discussing it publicly," replied Asp sweetly. "I meant to say I came seeking your wise woman."
The room somehow fell even more silent.
"We got no public wise woman," said the bartender, curling her lip in a near snarl. "You best be moving on."
Asp tried to not deflate. "People of Highfield," she said diplomatically, "I understand your distrust of strangers. It's something we share. But I am not exactly a stranger. And my business is perhaps less personal than private." She leaned slightly in. "Please, I am just a traveler in need of wisdom. Please don't turn me away."
There were mutterings and grumbles, but no one spoke immediately; a few moments later, the elven tailor brushed a strand of hair from his face and spoke. "If you are not exactly a stranger, what are you?"
Asp worked to keep her expression fixed on polite begging. "A friend in the making. As much as I need help, I am also able to give it. I have heard that your wise woman is in need--I won't say how, but I can see from your faces that I'm not mistaken. Please, let us exchange help."
The voices of the tavern patrons grew louder, though not exactly loud--just loud enough to shake Asp. A moment later, a voice rose from the commotion.
"Not quite a stranger," said an old female voice behind Asp. "So introduce yourself and be not a stranger at all."
Asp wheeled, and behind her stood a small halfling woman with wild white hair and patchwork clothes.
"Delia Violet," said Asp sweetly, stretching out her hand. "Grateful to make your acquaintance."
"You haven't yet," said the woman. She waved her hand in the air. "No matter. I'm Indicia. What is your business with me?"
Asp considered the woman. She's got some fight. Be careful.
"I'd like to discuss it privately," Asp said delicately. You know, away from the gallery of dissenters.
"Don't trust her, Indicia," warned the bartender.
"I can handle myself," said Indicia. "But should I? You don't really understand where you are, do you?"
The sound of chairs scooting across the floor behind Asp raised the hair on the back of her neck, but she didn't move.
Shit. Do I run? Can I run? She eyed the doorway, Indicia standing in its frame. She probably knows magic--better to not risk it, right? Shit. I don't know. I--
Indicia's voice interrupted Asp's thoughts. "Sit down, Jameson. No need for that."
Asp turned and noticed that the dwarven farmer had closed most of the distance between himself and Asp, a hammer in hand. Asp felt adrenaline rush through her body. She began to sweat.
"Come now, Miss Violet," said Indicia soothingly. "As you say, we have business to attend to." She gestured to Asp, who gratefully followed quickly behind, and led her down the road and to a small house. They walked silently, and the sun's final rays set on the small coastal town.
---
Indicia closed the door behind herself, and Asp stood in the middle of the main room looking around. It was a terribly simple house--perhaps more of a shack-- which was adorned only with a small stove, a wrecked armchair, and a mat on the floor; a few furs hung on the walls. It smelled vaguely damp and earthy.
"I am too old for theatrics," said Indicia, tiredness in her voice. "Tell me why you have come here."
We're alone, and she'll probably see through a lie. Let's hope a lie of omission is hard to catch.
"I represent a group of people who need help. Help with a problem that threatens our safety. And I know you need help too."
Indicia laughed in a pained way. "What do I need help with?" she asked.
Asp smiled and shrugged. "I don't know. But I want to try to help."
Indicia laughed again. "You are a curious one. You come here for my help, not knowing if I will help you. You come here to help me, but you don't know what I need. You are full of bluster, yet you nearly walked in to your own death just minutes ago. What are you?"
Asp plucked the ink pen from her bag. "I'm a reporter." Indicia cringed. "Not that kind!" added Asp. "I don't tear people down; I build them up. I tell stories that help people. I promise."
Indicia was silent for a minute, breathing heavily. After a while, she opened her mouth to speak, paused again, and finally said, "This is complicated. I think you can help me, but I'm not sure I want your help."
Asp managed to avoid wincing. "Why not?"
Indicia smiled wickedly, but her eyes were peaceful. "Because I don't think I can help you in return."
Asp furrowed her brow. "Why not?" she said again.
"I don't know what you need," Indicia began. "And I don't think I can offer you any real help anyway."
"Why not?" said Asp yet again.
Indicia shrugged. "You wouldn’t understand."
Asp grinned. "Try me."
Indicia grinned back. "Are you sure? Some things can't be unheard."
Asp laughed politely. "Most everything I know can't be unheard." She crossed her arms, then let them fall to her side. "For better or for worse."
Indicia cackled. "Then you already know one of this wise woman's secrets."
Asp raised an eyebrow. "That's a secret?"
"To most," said Indicia with finality. "The reason I can't help you is that you're not from here. And I would lose my power here if I tried to."
Asp sighed. Mystics never get to the point. Do I play along or cut to the chase?
Before she could decide, Indicia spoke again. "I know what you must be thinking--this old woman has rotted out her brain. She can't tell me what's going on. Am I right?"
Spot on.
"Not at all!" she cried. "I just want to know what you mean."
Indicia gave Asp a long look. "I can't read you. I can always read people. Who are you?"
"I read people too," said Asp. "That means I also know how not to be read. As do you--you are blank to me."
"A stalemate," said Indicia. "Fine. If I tell you what you want to know, you will do something for me?"
"That's what I mean to say," said Asp quickly.
"Then you go first. What do you need?" Indicia was looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully.
"I need to know about someone who used to live here," said Asp. "Now, he's an important man in Strey--head guard, actually. As a reporter, I investigate powerful people to make sure they deserve their power. I hoped you could tell me about him. He had an elven father and a human mother; angular features, tall and thin."
"About sixty years ago, there was a family like that. Good people. The little boy was always quiet and respectful. Never got into any trouble." Indicia gestured as she spoke, crossing her arms at the mention of trouble.
Asp frowned. "And his parents? Did they ever do anything objectionable?"
"They were private people, but good people. Our town was sad to see them go. I'm glad he made something of himself. Is that what you needed to know? Aren't you glad he's a good man?"
We were looking for leverage, so no. At least we weren't looking for it because we needed it. Jehosaphat is gonna hate to hear thus.
Asp met Indicia's gaze. "It's a relief. Now what can I do for you?"
Indicia smiled in a pained way. "I don't want to be remembered as I am here." She paused. Asp waited, but Indicia didn't say more.
"Remembered as what?" asked Asp gently.
"Different," said the wise woman. "They hold me above them. It feels nice at times, being considered special, but I know better than to covet such things." She sighed. "I want to be forgotten."
Asp kept herself from a double-take. "Forgotten . . . How can I help you be forgotten?"
"Teach me," said Indicia simply.
"How should I know how to be forgotten?" asked Asp, a touch of exasperation in her voice.
Indicia smiled wickedly. "Don't all con artists know how to be forgotten?"
Asp's stomach fell. She recovered a moment later, but she knew the jig was already up.
"You said you couldn't read me," said Asp, slightly hurt.
"And you said you were a reporter. But no reporter offers favors for news." Indicia scratched idly at her chin, calmer than a still pond. "And who would pretend to be a reporter but someone seeking information. And who would seek information in secret but a--"
"A con artist," said Asp. "So what can I do to help you?"
Indicia smiled. "You can give me an introduction somewhere new. As an old woman, and only that." She yawned delicately. "As a normal person."
Asp smiled back. "I can do that. In writing or in person?"
"Oh, a letter of introduction would be fine," said Indicia. "Do you need paper, or--wait, of course you have paper."
Asp dug a sheet of parchment from her bag along with her inkpen. "Right here," she said sweetly. "Your new name and profession?"
Indicia considered this carefully. "Nina," she said deliberately. "Weaver."
"Nina what?" asked Asp, scribbling.
"Oh, I don't know," said Inidicia. "Something average-sounding."
"Please . . . admit . . ." wrote Asp, "Nina . . . Branch?"
"Branch," said Indicia. "Hmm. I like it."
"She is . . . a very . . . talented weaver," said Asp, scribbling. She silently continued to write, and a minute later, she held the parchment out to Indicia. But as Indicia reached for it, Asp pulled the paper back. "Are you ready to be Nina?" she asked playfully.
Indicia laughed. "I suppose so."
"Nothing you want to do before you change?" asked Asp, a twinkle in her eye.
Indicia laughed harder. "I'm ready."
"Hello then, Nina," said Asp, stretching out her hand.
"Hello . . ." Nina reached out her own hand, then laughed once more. "I don't know you're real name."
Asp shook her head. "What even is a real name?"
"Fair enough," said Nina. "Do you need a guide?"
Asp thought of the long walk home in the dark without a path. "Would you mind?"
"I'm hitting the road anyway," said Nina, grabbing a tightly-packed bag. "To Strey for you, and then onward for me."
"Thank you, Nina," said Asp. "Onward for both of us."
---
The walk in the dark had been quiet--Asp had followed Nina's example as they silently trooped through the woods. But as they had come to the road back to Strey, Nina began to make small talk, which felt strange after their intense conversation before. They discussed traveling preferences, being overlooked as a halfling woman, and how lovely stargazing can be, and then as Strey's lights became visible, Nina grew quiet once again.
"You don't like the city," Asp said gently. "I hadn't realized. Thank you for bringing me here."
"You did me a favor I couldn't return," said Nina. "I owed you."
"I lied to you," said Asp. "You don't owe me anything."
"I lied to you too," said Nina. "I don't know if this will help you, but that man you asked about, the guard--we never knew for sure, but everyone in town suspected him of killing his little brother. That's why they left for Strey. They wanted to give him a chance. Or to escape the memory of their lost boy."
"But just suspicion?" asked Asp. "You were never sure."
"If it did happen," said Nina, her eyes on the city ahead, "it was almost certainly an accident. But you may find use of it."
"Perhaps," said Asp. "But perhaps is better than no. Thanks, Nina. Good luck."
"Good luck," said Nina. She bowed, turned, and scurried off towards a path to the east, and she was soon gone from sight.
Asp walked the rest of the way into town and entered the estate. The living room held Jehosaphat and Dancer along with a sleeping Annabel.
"How'd it go?" asked Jehosaphat quietly.
"You talked me up, and I disappointed," said Asp. "I only got a rumor, and we'd have to work pretty hard to get anything out of it."
"Not to worry," said Jehosaphat. "It was a long shot, we knew, but it was worth investigating. How was the wise woman?"
"Wise," said Asp, prompting a laugh from her companions. "But also, very surprising. She wanted to give it all up and start over as an ordinary person."
"That is wise," said Dancer. "Or at least, we all want that too, anyway."
"But she wasn't running from something," said Asp, louder than she meant. Annabel stirred, and Asp slapped a hand over her mouth. More quietly, she said, "Why give up a position of power and respect?"
"I doubt it's about power or respect," said Jehosaphat. "I'd say she's found that being different is a double-edged sword."
"Like how?" demanded Dancer. "
"There's comfort in being like other people. And pain in being alone." Jehosaphat tented his fingers. "Each of us in the gang have come together for a reason like that."
"You know," said Asp thoughtfully, "there's comfort in knowing that most people aren't like me."
"Can you imagine?" said Dancer. "Hundreds of Asps running around?"
Jehosaphat feigned a shiver of fear. "Don't! You'll give me nightmares!" He and Dancer laughed together, waking Annabel; Asp joined in despite not being amused.
"Speaking of nightmares," she said, "I'm gonna turn in. Long day."
"Good night!" all three called as she left the room--Jehosaphat still chuckling, Dancer flopping around on the couch, and Annabel rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Asp went up the stairs and entered her room. She was absorbed in her thoughts and didn't close the door all the way, which meant she was totally surprised when Candace silently popped her head in.
"Hey, honey," she said. "Can I come in?"
"Hey, Candy," said Asp, half-heartedly disguising the distraction in her voice. "How are you?"
"Better than you, I'd say," said Candace. "I wasn't on a wild goose chase all day. That's why you're so bummed out, right?"
"Eh, not really," Asp said quietly. "It was fine."
"Then what's wrong?" Candace wrapped an arm around Asp's shoulders. "What's troubling my girlfriend?"
"Am I bad?" Asp sounded hollow as she spoke.
"Not bad at all," said Candace, stifling a laugh.
"Seriously," said Asp sternly. "Am I a bad person?"
"Oh, honey," said Candace sweetly, "that's a big question, and a treacherous one."
Asp sunk down on her bed. "That's a yes."
"No, it's an 'it's complicated.' We're criminals, so we live off the losses of others. That's bad. But we look out for each other. That's good. Each of us does something people don't like, and that's bad. But also, we don't mess with innocent people, and that's pretty good."
"Not us," said Asp firmly. "Me. Am I a bad person?"
"Honey, where did this come from? Why are you asking me this?" Candace wrestled Asp into a gentle headlock, kissing the top of her head.
Asp squirmed under her. "I dunno." She struggled free and looked at Candace directly. "Jehosaphat and Dancer said the world would be bad if everyone were like me."
Candace laughed gently. "That's true for everyone. We can't have all Oslos, or all Gregorios, or all mes. It would be awful."
"That's not what they meant," said Asp, "and you know it."
"Fine. Listen, Asp, here's the thing. If you want to be a good person," said Candace, drawing Asp into an embrace, "you make choices you're proud of. Are you proud of your choices?"
Asp thought for a moment. "Some of them."
"So be proud of some of your actions, and make the other ones something you'd be proud of." Candace hugged her tightly.
"What if I don't know how to trust if I'm proud of the right things?" asked Asp, her voice small.
"How do you know what lies to tell to which people?" Candace's voice was suddenly serious.
"I can just tell." Asp snuggled next to Candace. "I trust my instincts."
"So trust your instincts." Candace squeezed Asp even tighter for a moment, then relaxed. "Did you do anything today that you feel good about?"
Asp considered, then smiled. "I helped an old woman start her life over." She kissed Candace. "And I did it for free."
"For free?" exclaimed Candace. "What are you worried for?"
Asp laughed self-consciously. "I just--I don't know how to trust myself more than other people. Especially when they're more honest than me."
"Do you trust me?" asked Candace.
"Of course," said Asp.
"Then trust me," said Candace, "you've got nothing to worry about."
You can read more short stories here!
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