I didn't know where to go. The whole town was like a giant maze of stone and wood, nothing like the loose sand and hide tents of home. I could take a few lefts, a right at a stone well, walk down a long road, and then find myself where I started. After finding myself at the same stupid rock bench by a strange moss covered pond for the third time I gave up, kicking one of the rocks surrounding the pond into the green muck, allowing the rock to slowly sink into the green abyss.
With a sigh I turned from the pond and noticed Rhythmus sitting on the small bench, stroking his beard as if deep in thought. I have to wonder if that's the only reason old men have beards. Do they think they can hide the fact that they never really learned anything by taking part in the old-man ritual of thoughtful beard stroking? If I can ever grow facial hair perhaps that will be what I will do.
"You seem to have quite the fondness for dirt." Rhythmus noted, raising one white and fuzzy eyebrow.
"I've been through a lot." I sighed, sitting next to the old man.
"I see." He mumbled, hand covering mouth and eyes crinkling the way a person with poor eyesight looks at distant writing.
This look annoyed me, so before he could judge or lecture me with some weird life lesson, I blurted out, "How do we get rid of Lesion?"
Rhythmus squinted an eye. "I do not know." He said, with a shrug of his shoulders and a glance at the far distance.
I looked at him incredulously. "Yes, you do. You're supposed to be the smart old guy who tells everyone else how to do stuff. You know exactly what we're supposed to do."
"Is that so?" Rhythmus let out a soft chuckle. "I do not even know what I will have for breakfast. Just because I am old, does not mean I know everything." He noted.
"Knew it." I muttered to myself. The beard is always a lie.
"Lesion believes I do know his future, which maybe I do, but it is only based on his own follies. If you wish to talk combat you may wish to take it up with your friends. Is Tarka not a valuable ally in all things Viridi? And Tristram, he now has a whole kingdom behind him, and even you're old friend Roman has great training for war." Rhythmus chuckled once more. "Why you think an old man is helpful is quite odd."
I sighed. "All you had to tell me was talk to them." I stood up, frustrated. Looking down at the road, I felt a warmth flood to my cheeks. Even if talking to my friends is what I was supposed to do, I had no idea where I was. My foot twitched, asking to kick another stone into the green sludge pond.
With a loud "hurumph" Rhythmus pushed his way up off of the rock bench, his muscles creating a creaking and popping sound. "Before you go anywhere," he stated,"perhaps you should follow me to the house I have been lent so that you may wash up." He explained, ushering me down a road.
We walked down a one way street, where lots of people led horses with carts attached through to the other end, where a giant water fountain sat, no green sludge to be found. It still surprised me how big and well built this town was, and perhaps it always will be odd to a person who has lived his whole life as a nomad.
"Here we are." Said Rhythmus, as he walked to a small rock house with a wooden door, just right off of the pathway. I went inside and found the bucket of freshwater that Rhythmus told me about, and rinsed away the dirt and mud from my skin. Once clean I came out of the little hideaway room to see everyone huddled in the small house. Tarka smiled at me a little hesitantly, and Tristram stood to her right, his gaze cast mostly downward and towards a girl I did not recognize, nor care about. Roman was then on Tarka's other side, sitting in a chair with his feet on a table, and arms across his chest. I looked at Rhythmus who stood to my left, but he was busy dusting some books with what looked like a few feathers tied together with string.
"Tarka." I whispered, afraid to break the silence but aware of the necessity of it.
"Yes?" She said, coming over to me.
"I need to know everything you know about Lesion." I expressed, eyebrows furrowing. I knew she did not like to talk about her past or her people for that matter. "Anything we can exploit, or habits that make him predictable... anything and everything." I pleaded.
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