Chapter Fifteen

Not All Tales

The boat was not much different from the one they had faced the storm in; it was small but longer, decorated with some old carvings and half packed with the things the others had provided for their journey. Docked in a small cove, the water tossed it up and down gently as waves pulled at the shore. Soft in the shady retreat, voices spoke quietly to each other.

"Where will you go?" It was Opal's voice.

Then Sendred. "Back to Elmaphon, I suppose--or to what used to be Elmaphon. Its people are now freed, and the city will be rebuilt. Perhaps Gosternan will understand better than Forno did what I have been through. As for whatever remains of Kelma's legion, I doubt they will be returning. They have their poisoned caves to dwell in until their death."

"Mayla?"

"Sendred has said he will look after me. I don't doubt that." She looked beside her at the warrior who had restored peace.

"I suppose this is it, then. We're finally going back." Opal gazed at the islanders, and the single Felonwolf nosing about at the sandy ground. "Goodbye, Mayla...Sendred." She laughed a little. "Teador."

At the mention of his name, the Felonwolf jerked up his head. Opal gave his fur a soft rub, then a sad smile to Mayla and Sendred. They exchanged their good-byes one to another, and at last Sendred acknowledged the quiet figure standing at the shoreline.

Tiff had been silent for the most part, staring down at his feet so that his deep gaze would not be recognized. He had never been much for good-byes. Idly watching as the wind tossed the frayed edge of his light shirt, he was surprised to hear the mention of his name and looked up.

"Farewell, Tiff." The voice belonged to Sendred. "You'll have a lighter journey this time."

Bowing his head again Tiff stifled a laugh. "I doubt I would've gotten any further than the battlefield if it weren't for your help."

"And I doubt I would have gotten farther than a step into the fortress without yours."

Tiff knew he meant the slaying of Derigan. He thought of the scar that still felt fiery on his arm, and after a moment of blameless silence he managed a soft, "Thank you, sir."

Opal gave them a last glance while Tiff helped her into the boat. "I always thought I wouldn't have any trouble leaving this place," she said, "but now that it comes to it, I almost wish I could stay. I probably would--but for all this toil, it seems the only thing I can do is go back..."

She sat down, turning her face toward the sea--partly because she was afraid to look back--the other part to hide a glistening tear that had escaped her eye and was now slipping down toward her chin.

Sendred undocked the boat, and off they went. The splash of oars slowly diminished behind the sound of the waves breaking outside the cove.

"Do you think we'll see them again?" Mayla wondered.

"I don't know," Sendred admitted. "But then again, neither ever ceased to surprise us before."

He watched the boat clear the outcrop of rocks, and gave Mayla his hand. If anyone had come upon the steep waterside after that, they might have seen the four sets of footprints in the sand leading down to the water, and only two leading back...with the tracks of a Felonwolf close beside them.

The Deadly Sea was calmer than they had ever seen it. The evening light played on its surface, casting a bronze glow across the broad expanse of endless water and shining warmly on the two travelers' faces. Tiff had been rowing since they left land; Opal had stopped sometime earlier to rest, and now she felt guilty for leaving Tiff to strain himself further. Although the waters were calm, they still seemed to pull at the oars, teasing the boat as it tried to plough onward to the north.

"Why don't you rest for a while, Tiff?" Opal picked up her own pair of oars. "I can take it from here, if you want."

Tiff seemed a little reluctant, but after a moment he replaced the paddles. Opal saw a brief trace of relief pass over his face as he settled back against the boat's prow, gazing up carelessly at the darkening sky.

"Where will you go when we get back home?" Opal asked thoughtfully. "What do you want to see the most?" They had not spoken for quite a while. Opal felt she should start a conversation, as she was somewhat lonely in the silence.

"Turnblow, I suppose," Tiff sighed, his eyes wandering over the scattered clouds above them. "Just to see that old land again would be nice, the trees and hills and everything. Then maybe traveling some more."

"Traveling? What about Gerentol?"

Tiff paused. He had seen the question coming, but still he dreaded it. "I...Opal, I don't mean to stay in Gerentol." He brought his gaze down from the sky to face her, and seeing her confusion he went on. "You must understand, I haven't got anything to go back to. You, you've got a home, a family, reason to stay. But things can't be like they were, that's too far gone, now. As much as we'd like everything to be the same...things have changed. People have changed, even you and I. Some things even we can't do over."

"Tiff, I don't understand."

"I only want to see you safely home again. That's all that matters." Tiff paused. Perhaps she would never quite understand him, but it was too late for any regrets. "I'm sorry, Opal. Not all tales end happily. And those that do, well, they're rare in such a place, aren't they? In truth, it just wouldn't work for us. Where could I go in Gerentol, that I might be taken in, accepted?"

Opal opened her mouth to speak, but she had no answer. When did Tiff ever become so wise? Although the prospect might have seemed outlandish long ago, it was humorless in this new place. She knew him now. She knew him, and too soon he needed her to let him go. Instead she felt like she might take him in her arms and never leave him.

"You see?" said Tiff, as though satisfied he had made his point. "There's nothing left for me in Gerentol. No one has a need for a town idiot, and you know it."

"I don't want you to leave."

"I don't, either. But it's not my choice to make." His eyes remained on Opal for a moment, seeming to soak in every detail of her concerned face. Then he rested, and very soon that rest turned into an abysmal sleep.

It was midday when they arrived at Turnblow. They had come ashore on the pebbled bank of some disestablished field, and ducking under an ancient barbed fence they wandered out until they reached the winding unpaved walkway, not obvious but for a stone marker which read:

TURNBLOW PORT
HALF MILE

The letters were incrusted with dirt and weeds, but the pair recognized the name of the familiar town at once. They set upon the road, and came to the edge of the village as the last fragments of late morning mist swirled out of sight.

Turnblow was busy, as always, and quite unchanged. Several patches of winter snow lay sheltered under the trim shadows of tall buildings, and a single birch tree planted between the cobblestones shone with a glaze of ice. Somehow the village seemed a little quieter than it had been, perhaps from the arrival of winter, but it was still easy to spot the old inn from the occasional noises that spilled out into the street, along with floods of people.

"Well, here we are, Tiff," said Opal sentimentally. "Just where you wanted to come. At least we know this old place hasn't changed, right?"

She smiled at him, but Tiff wasn't responding. His mind was elsewhere, and his eyes were searching one of the crowds outside the inn. "Opal, isn't that..."

"Opal?" a familiar voice cried. A young woman, her arm linked with that of a sailor, shielded her eyes and trotted closer. "Opal Deerie, it's you!"

Farri Thorn was overjoyed. At once she had recognized the friend she had met while onboard the doomed ship in Fangrush, and she pulled Jed along with her to greet her.

"Farri," said Opal, surprised. "You made it after all!"

"I did, yes. But where on earth did you go? We thought you were dead for sure!"

Opal felt a stab of regret. Of course she could not tell Farri where they had gone; who would believe that story here in Turnblow? Before she could think of what to say, she noticed the gold ring on Farri's left hand, and she smiled. "You and Jed are married?" she asked.

Farri giggled childishly, giving a sparkling grin to Jed.

"Yes, almost a year now," Jed answered at last. "We thought we ought to go ahead and get married before we set out someplace, so I've been off the job for awhile."

"Our anniversary's in two months," Farri added excitedly. "Right after that Jed's taking me west, like he promised. I can't wait." She looked up lovingly at him, and for a fleeting moment Opal wished she could be in the same place. Now Opal didn't feel as innocent, as new to the world as she had been when they first set out that day long ago, in this very spot. Suddenly she knew what Tiff had meant; things had changed while they were gone, and change had come over themselves as well as others.

"Best wishes to you both, then," said Opal at last with a smile.

"Oh, stop. None of that politeness needed," said Farri sincerely. "Seeing you and Tiff here, why, it's already been such a wonderful circumstance. I do believe young Mr. Tiff saved my life that night on the ship, and that's something I'll never be able to repay. Still gives me the collywobbles to think about it." She shuddered a little. "Ah, well, me and Jed must be off soon. I'm awfully sorry to leave you two, but pleasures do tend to come and go, don't they? Perhaps we'll meet again sometime. Are you staying in Turnblow long?"

"Just another night or so."

"I'm sorry to hear it." Farri gave them an apologetic smile. "Then again, I can't imagine where all you've been since we last saw you. A regular adventure, I'd expect!" She laughed at this unlikely prospect. "Take care, will you?"

"Of course."

Opal waved as they left, and watched them for a moment. "That's certainly something welcoming to come back to," she sighed softly.

Tiff smirked. Opal caught him hiding his amused face, and she glared at him with sarcasm in her voice. "May I ask what you find so funny, Tiff?"

"Collywobbles?"

An unguarded laugh erupted from him, and Opal shook her head. Some things about Tiff were never going to change, and, in the end, she was glad of it.

The pair were in for more enjoyed reunions that evening at Rockendorf's old inn, both of places and of people. They were served what seemed to them a feast, and after a day's travels the warmth of the inn was companionable to every desire. With laughter and remembrance they took in the familiar settings: the ruddy-faced innkeeper and Gaddy, his hurried little apprentice, the heavy harbor air and the loud conversations thrown this way and that throughout the pub. For those brief hours the island and its past dangers were completely forgotten; only thoughts of home and happiness remained with the two young travelers.

"It's off to Gerentol tomorrow morning, then," said Tiff as he muffled a forthcoming yawn.

Opal stared into the yellow candlelight over their crumbling wooden table. "Off home," she whispered. "I can't believe we've come so far."

Tiff recognized her poor countenance, and with a wide smile he raised his mug to propose one of his classic toasts. "To Gerentol," he said.

Happier now Opal returned it. Looking at that dimly lit room full of life, she might have believed it more grandiose than any palace, and the homely wooden mugs more priceless than jewel-studded chalices. She dreaded the thought that she would part with Tiff very soon. Was Gerentol really where her journey had started, or was it this animated village tavern in which she seemed to feel such a gladdening promise of home? Here, where the rollicking sound of laughter generated warmth in her heart that could not be undone, here was her home...

But she put away these thoughts for that night, as they climbed the creaking stairs to the old spare room at the top. Tiff was nearly asleep on his feet, looking much as he had not so long ago on the island when they were lost in a mess of sleepy forest. And he had a curious look about him, Opal noted, also something she thought she may have seen before, but she could not place what it was. He was quiet in a deep slumber the moment he shoved off his scuffed boots and flopped on his bed. Opal's disarranged thoughts did not allow her sleep as easily. For some odd reason, she didn't feel at peace like she had expected. She lay in her bed for a while listening to the thrum and ebb of voices below the floor, then whispered to the dormant Tiff, "See you in the morning."

Tiff did not wake up the next morning; he lay unresponsive until what must have been some time around noon, when he blinked his eyes open and slowly remembered where he was. Opal had been waiting since shortly after sunrise. What she had felt last night had begun to define itself as a seed of fear was planted deep inside her. At first it had seemed natural of Tiff to laze about for so long, but she began to worry when she shook him to no avail, and in the morning light she could see a strange pallor in his face. She sat beside him and watched his breathing--the only sign of life, as far as she could tell. For a slight moment he opened one unseeing eye, but he immediately tensed in pain and closed it again, slipping back into his fitful sleep. He shifted his head and shoulders uncomfortably, and as Opal reached down to unbutton his shirt about his chest she felt how feverish and sweaty he had become. She fanned the stuffy air at his burning neck.

There was a knock at the door.

The charge of that night had been forgotten. Opal jumped at the noise and hurried to the door, shoving aside a short latch to see into the hall. "Who is it?" she asked.

"It's just me," a small voice replied. Gaddy ducked his head, rolling his eyes good-naturedly. "The apprentice."

Opal opened the door to look down at him, leaning tiredly on the doorframe. "I'm awfully sorry," she explained, "I forgot about the fee. And I can't exactly leave just now, if that's what your master wants, because Tiff's looking sick."

Gaddy nodded understandably, his eyes timidly searching the floor. "No money, then?"

Opal shook her head.

"Rockendorf won't be too pleased to hear that," Gaddy admitted. "I can hear it comin': 'Should've asked in advance--you bloody idiot, Gaddy, why didn't ye remind me?' Blame it on the apprentice, right?" He caught Opal's smile, but prompted himself to be sincere. "Don't you worry about nothing, marm, he'll adjust. I'll tell him about your friend. You need anything?"

Something about the way the young boy talked reminded Opal of Tiff, and for a transient instance the voice softened her heart. Finally she spoke, out of her trance.

"No, thank you, Gaddy." She glanced back at Tiff as if he might have changed at all.

Gaddy shrugged and smiled, turning back down the hallway. The use of his real name instead of the usual call-out had lightened his heart.

If she had done anything to note here, Opal was unaware. She closed the door and hesitated, then heard a faint, slightly confused voice.

"Are we back already?"

Opal came to Tiff at once. "We're in Turnblow, Tiff, remember?" She knelt beside him, laid a hand on his shoulder. "How are you?"

Tiff arranged his memory and laughed weakly at his forgetfulness, shuddering with the effort. "I...I can't move. Opal, I'm..." He sighed, blinking as a strand of light hair fell in his eyes. He tried to raise his voice again to speak.

"You've just been asleep, that's all." Opal ignored the building pain in her throat, unable to keep her gaze at his face. "It's just all this traveling we've done since yesterday. I'm sure if you rest a while then..."

"Opal..."

"...then you'll be fine, you'll be just fine..."

"Opal, you didn't let me finish."

Stopping instantly, Opal stared at the cool sincerity in Tiff's blue eyes. Of course she didn't let him finish. If he finished, then her thoughts--her worst fears--would prove correct, and she didn't want them, for once, to be true.

"Don't," she began, whispering. "Tiff, please."

"I'm sorry."

"Why?" The pain in her throat had worsened. "Why is this happening?"

Tiff shook his head, hardly noticeable. "It had to, sooner or later, didn't it?" He paused, and sensing Opal's hand near he took hold of it. His voice was drained when he spoke. "I thought I might be able to get you home, for all that trouble."

"But you have, Tiff, you have..." Opal was crying.

"I hope so."

"Sendred was wrong," Opal sniffed stubbornly. "He said you wouldn't die."

"Did he?"

Opal turned away. He hadn't said that, and Tiff must have known it. But she wished he had, so that in some way she could prove Tiff past what she knew was coming. It seemed like she had just met him, Tiff for who he really was, and now he was being taken away from her. She remembered the night in Sendred's home--the hill, and then the dart, flickering red in the firelight, so small but at the same time so deadly. The dart that was Kelma's implement of capture and Tiff's bane for such a long time. The dart whose venom Tiff had fought against in order to get Opal home someday. The dart that should have killed him; it was killing him now.

"I never meant to leave you, Opal," said Tiff weakly, "not even now I don't. But remember what I told you on the boat? Not all tales end happily. We were lucky just for this one to end. And do you know who got it all the way to that ending?"

Opal shook her head speechlessly, brushing away what felt like a rainstorm of tears.

"You did." At this Opal shook her head harder, but Tiff went on, trying with all of his last strength to soothe her in that instance. "If I hadn't somehow just known you were on that island with me, I don't think I would have lived. Maybe not even through the very first night." He paused again, exhausted. "I wish it didn't have to end quite like this, though," he allowed.

Then they were both silent for a time, and Opal bowed over him, caressing his hand. "Don't go," she murmured. She loved him.

A chorale of gleeful voices rang like church bells outside in the square, muffled by the tightly shut windowpane. Hearing the soft melodies Tiff opened his eyes wider to look back up at his companion. "Opal, do you remember that song we sang in the street down there?"

"It was your song," said Opal softly, after a brief silence. She dared to look at his blue eyes. "One of those silly things you did to get money from the villagers. I remember you made it up on the spot."

"Sing it for me," Tiff whispered, and there was a smile on his face.

Opal rose from the bedside and stood looking out the large window, the sunshine glowing on her face. She hesitated, wondering if she could manage even this small request through the pain in her heart. Then, regardless of the circumstances, she sang, with every velvet ounce of sadness and beauty and retrospection that lay inside her, slowly as if to preserve the moment, for it was precious to her. She sang and steadied her voice as she trembled at first with provoking tears; then they seemed to retreat and left her in peace. She sang until she reached one of the later lines of the nonsensical song, when her voice stopped.

"Hill, and dell, and very well; he had no steed and his knighthood fell...Tiff, I don't remember the rest." She stood, still looking down at the street corner distantly. The voices below had moved on, and now the pale quiet of the room answered her.

"Tiff?"

She turned around in dread. Tiff's eyes were closed under a few strands of sandy hair, serenity on his face, but no longer that of sleep. He had lost all the pain of his immeasurable injury. Opal said nothing, but she knelt a last time beside him, touching his soft hand to her face. At one point Gaddy came by again, but seeing what had happened he left just as quietly. Opal remained for what seemed like hours in silence, and when she rose the day was late.

"Goodbye, Tiff," she said gently.

Opal did not go back to Gerentol. It was one of the first things she decided upon after Tiff was gone: he had wanted to see her safely home, and he had seen her to Turnblow. She couldn't go back, no matter how appropriate it might have seemed. As Tiff had told her, so much had changed already. Sometimes it was hard to tell which had changed the most, Arbenia or its two voyagers, but the shift had grounded itself in two different directions. Opal was at home in Turnblow, at home just as she needed.

A westerly wind was blowing over the harbor that winter, sending a shower of mist into the winding streets. Opal pulled a loose shawl about her shoulders, sauntering near the steps to the old inn, when her quiet stroll was interrupted by a young child tugging at her sleeve.

"Miss Deerie!" the boy said, and Opal shut her eyes momentarily at the old title. Memories of a laughing, towheaded boy wandering a street in Gerentol came to mind, but this was replaced suddenly by the little child at her knees. She willed herself to smile down at him.

"You are Miss Deerie, right?" the boy asked uncertainly. "My pa says you're a storyteller. 'E said to give you a two-penny to tell me a story."

"He was right, then," Opal answered him warmly, sitting down at the base of the steps. Her smile came easily now. Despite the cold street corner's atmosphere, the child's company gave her comfort. "What's your name?"

"Robert Delton, Miss Deerie."

"Well, Rob, I don't need your money if you'd like to hear a story. And you can call me Opal. I don't get many visitors when it's so cold out. Go on, sit down."

The boy sat down eagerly. "Is this a true story?"

Opal gave the question some very real thought. "Do you know, I could tell you now, but I don't know if you'd believe me," she said peculiarly. "We'll see if you believe me by the time I reach the end. This is a story about two young travelers from a village called Gerentol. A story about a shipwreck and an island and a mountain full of danger, about an outcast with the heart of a king and a friend with unmatchable bravery..."

After that the story always began the same way. There where her journey had both ended and begun, Opal told her story to those who might listen, never leaving out a single shred of truth. And those who enjoyed it, those who were touched or those who believed, would sometimes return to the young woman's welcoming pleasure, to hear it retold one more time.

The End