Moments later, Heledd and Haskel watch as Tric and Heppa reenter the bar and dash up the stairs. Alric was long gone by the time they got outside, at least as far as their eyes could tell. He is quick and silent, trained at moving through the dark. Likely he is taking the most direct path to Damal’s—across rooftops—and they have no hope of tracking him there. The city streets are too dangerous for forest elves to risk following without some protection.
Properly equipped for self-defense, the cousins head out again. The near-full moon lights their way, but the route to Damal’s is a little harder to follow at night. “I don’t think I handled that very well,” Heppa confesses to Tric as they rush through the streets.
“These things happen. It’s heavy news. You just told him that his parents love him, right?”
She nods. “I read him the letter and told him what they said.”
“Was there anything new in the letter?” Tric asks.
“Nothing different from the conversation over dinner in Weldyn,” Heppa tells him. “But it was a very nice letter.”
Tric snorts. “Let’s hope Mhaev does not react the same way to the letter from Terwaen.” He stops suddenly. “Hold up. Do you see that?” Mist is coming up from a sewer grate down a side alley. It hugs the ground like fog. “That’s strange…” Tric murmurs.
“Maybe not. Sewage can get pretty warm,” Heppa comments.
“It’s not chilly enough for that, and the rest of the air isn’t moist,” Tric argues. “We’ve seen mist like that before,” he adds soberly, recalling the clingy, cold mists around Gaenyn’s camp in the Grey Woods.
“Sewer undead!?” Heppa cries, a shiver going down her spine. That is not a problem they need right now!
“We’re going to have to clean out the sewers later,” Tric mutters. They pay more attention as they continue on to Damal’s. Fortunately, not every sewer entrance looks that way, just a couple all in the same general part of town. As they move, their conversation is quiet, with nervous chatter from Heppa and wariness from Tric. He knows they look like easy marks here in the city, far from their comfortable woodlands.
When they reach Damal’s store, the front door is wide open. Heppa goes right into the dark shop, not afraid to take liberties in anything concerning Alric. Tric follows, pulling the door closed behind them. A sliver of light shines through a curtain behind the counter. They hear loud voices muted by distance and material. Likely the argument is happening upstairs. Heppa continues behind the counter and through the curtains, but when she gets to the foot of the staircase leading up to Damal’s private quarters, she pauses. Alric spoke more sharply to Heledd than Heppa has ever heard him speak before, but he did not look outright murderous, just angry. She decides to remain downstairs and simply listen unless she hears actual violence. Not like Damal doesn’t have it coming, though, she thinks grimly, offended on Alric’s behalf. So far, there has only been shouting, not the sound of anything breaking. “All we can really do is be here to support Alric when he is done,” she whispers to Tric. He nods and remains with Heppa, a few paces further back from the stairs than she is.
They hear Alric yell, “You had no right!!”
“I was protecting her from you,” Damal counters, “insulating her from your irresponsibility. All your bad choices in Weldyn, you were just repeating again here. Your disrespect for and rejection of Dunefolk culture…” Tric purses his lips at that. Damal is the one who violated his professional code of ethics over all this, a matter that would be grounds for bringing before the Luminary Council, if South Tower had one.
“You rejected the trade of alchemy. You rejected literacy,” Damal scolds. These words resonate with Heppa, who herself has suffered through lectures on sticking with someone else’s idea of what her education should entail. “I told my sister that I would take responsibility for you following your crimes in Weldyn, but when you showed up on my doorstep here, you rejected Dunefolk ways all over again. And the riffraff that you turned to here when you did go out to get a job is the same type of person that led you away from Dunefolk culture to begin with!”
“That doesn’t give you the right to withhold my parents’ messages to me. You’re really picking and choosing which Dunefolk values to care about here. Which are the ones worthy enough to be embraced? What about the whole supportive family network principle? Apparently that’s not as important to you as me knowing how to read. I can write my name, you know!”
Heppa reflects sadly on her conversations about literacy with Alric in the past. He had such trust in Damal to read him the letters from her. That has all been broken now.
“I’m not saying I didn’t make mistakes in the past, but you’ve done your sister a wrong here, as well. Or do you not care, because she raised me poorly? She didn’t. She instilled Dunefolk values in me that you seem to have forgotten. My parents made the choice of entrusting me to you after I made those mistakes, and what you have done with that trust is unforgivable.”
“I didn’t have a chance to tell Alric how mad his mother was,” Heppa whispers to Tric.
Alric’s voice steadies as he delivers his ultimatum. “You are always welcome at the Parting Glass as a customer, but don’t ever come there as anything else.” Following those words, the cousins hear the quiet creaking of the staircase; while someone else might stomp away from such an argument, Alric’s steps remain light out of habit. When he emerges from the stairwell, his emotions are plain on his face, and he does not bother trying to compose himself when he notices the audience there. Heppa rushes up to him and gives him a big hug. Alric melts into it, glad to have supportive friends on hand.
“You know, your mom had the same reaction,” Tric says in consolation. “She was just as upset at this. She even threw something at a wall.” That gets a small smile from Alric.
The three of them walk calmly back through the city streets. Along the way, Alric asks Heppa and Tric about their visit to his parents, and they fill him in on the details. Tric gushes about the fantastic food, though he leaves out how Lord Uchal has been hassling them. Heppa talks excitedly about papermaking and the supplies Osian gave her.
“And we have your money, too,” Tric adds. “That’s also good.”
“From my parents?” Alric asks, confused.
“No, no, no, from us!”
“But we have the drink that his father sent,” Heppa points out.
“Right!” When they get back to the Parting Glass, Tric fetches the bottle of King’s Choice Ale from his pack, and they all retire to the kitchen to enjoy some while talking more about Lonfar and Osian.
“And if you want to write a letter back to your parents, I’m happy to help,” Heppa offers. “I’m not saying you’d want to do that right now, but…”
“No, I do want to do that right now. Nothing too long, but I want them to know that I know,” Alric tells her. Heppa pulls out a thin sheet of Osian’s paper and takes down the message as Alric dictates, “Heppa gave me your letter. I’m doing good. I’ll send you more details soon. I love you too.” When she has that all written out in a thin line, Alric adds his own name at the end.
“You’re a good son,” Heppa assures him. With the bottle of ale finished, they all head upstairs. Alric says goodnight to them at the door to their room and then continues up to the aviary. There he rouses Nar for her night flight to Weldyn.