Death Be Not Proud

by ShinigamiDad

Jost'n

Reaper awoke and turned to look at Luna asleep next to him, her disheveled hair highlighted with the morning’s first rays streaming through the un-shuttered window. He stretched and quietly slid out of the bed, pausing for a moment as Luna shifted slightly.

He knelt in front of the fireplace, stirred and stoked the fire, and finished off the half-mug of flat beer that was sitting next to the hearth, before grabbing a chamber pot and stepping into the low side room that held the copper bathtub.

Reaper put the chamber pot on a small footstool and closed his eyes as he emptied his bladder for a full minute.

“I still find it most unfair, you know.”

Reaper opened his eyes and saw Luna sitting up in the bed, watching him through the entrance.

“What?”

“That you are able to piss standing up like a proper pony, but I have to squat like a dog--excuse me, like a takur.”

Reaper grinned and walked back into the bedchamber: “That’s your lot in life here, while stuck as a biped!”

He pulled a shirt and breeches out of the basket Regel had left the night before, and put them on: “Did you sleep well?”

Luna rose gingerly from the bed, grabbed the other chamber pot, walked across the room and placed it on the floor beside the window. She lifted her shift with one hand as she reached underneath with the other, and squatted over the dented tin vessel.

“Yes--after a fashion.”

“After a fashion?”

“I probed tentatively into your dreams, but was turned away by smoke and fire--almost like a barrier.”

Reaper picked up a clean rag and walked over to Luna.

She took the cloth and wiped as she stood, stepping away from the chamber pot, wrinkling her nose: “I miss proper plumbing!”

Reaper rummaged through his bag for the antiseptic ointment. Luna sat next to him on the bed and lifted the shift over her head as he removed her dressing.

“Your wounds are looking better--glad to see no infection, anyway.”

He dabbed salve on the parallel gashes and wrapped her with fresh linen strips: “Smoke and fire? Like in my death vision?”

“No, this was different. Your death vision clearly takes place on a battlefield. This was dark and close, as in a confined space. The fire seemed more, I would say, focused, and the smoke smelled of burnt flesh.”

Reaper shuddered: “Well, who knows? It’s just as well, honestly; we both needed a bit of real sleep!”

“I suppose, yes, though I would like to try again tonight. I am most interested to see what may lie beyond that barrier. There are huge gaps in your memory from your final years as Gerrar.”

“Like I said: a whole lot of zaka and beer.”

Luna turned to face Reaper: “I have experienced both of those things now, and I do not believe them capable of entirely blotting out memory and dreams so thoroughly. If anything, last night shows they have the power to enhance and heighten.”

He reached up to adjust and tie off the strips of cloth running across her chest: “Just let it go, Luna. There’s nothing good in there, and nothing that would be of any value to us or this mission.”

His hands trembled as he spoke, and his fingers brushed her nipples, now stiff in the chilly air.

Luna’s eyebrows jumped and she grinned mischievously: “You seem a bit clumsy this morning. Perhaps I should remove this dressing and let you try again until you get it right!”

Reaper blushed and pulled his hands away. He twisted around and slid off the side of the bed: “Sorry--I’m just a bit on-edge right now, and I really don’t want to talk about dreams.”

Luna furrowed her brow in confusion: “No, I must apologize. I did not mean to tease or be so forward.”

Reaper pulled on a cloak and belt, and sat down in the chair in order to put on stockings and clogs: “It’s fine, Luna--it’s this place and the booze and the zaka and the stress and excitement. Neither of us is really in our right mind.”

Luna twisted a length of hair absently as Reaper pulled a simple, rough-spun work dress out the basket and laid it at the foot of the bed.

“‘Our right mind.’ Hmm. Perhaps a proper bath and meal will help in both regards. What else do you hope for us to accomplish today?”

Reaper stood before the fireplace and finished dressing: “We need to sell a couple of these jewels, and see if we can lay our hands on a decent map. I’m still not a hundred percent sure how far north we are, though I’m pretty confident that stream we’ve been following drains into the Zuri river.”

Luna swung her legs off the edge of the bed and pulled on stockings and her dragon hide boots: “Shall I continue to feign ignorance of the local speech?”

“Probably not a bad idea, at least for the moment. We can come up with some half-assed story once we’re back on the road, and you can start to communicate more freely.”

Luna stood, and Reaper draped a cloak around her shoulders: “This is too short by a long way! It looks more like a cape!”

Luna glanced over her shoulders: “I suspect it belongs to Tal’ar, given its dimensions. We must make sure to thank her for its use.”

“Believe me, that gem I gave her is thanks enough--she can add a seamstress shop to her holdings now, if she wants!”

Luna smiled as she pulled the cloak’s hood over her head: “Let us see what this village has to offer!”

Reaper grabbed his bag and slipped the short sword through his belt as they left the room.

Tal’ar met them at the bottom of the staircase: “Good morrow m’Lord and Your Highness! I trust ‘ya slept well!”

Reaper nodded: “The T’zesa is most pleased with the accommodations and the use of the clothing. Could you spare your man for a bit? I would appreciate a guide to help us get our bearings.”

Tal’ar shouted over her shoulder: “Oy, Regel--show yer face!”

The stable boy came around the corner from the common room, wiping his hands on an apron. He saw Luna, stopped abruptly and blushed.

“Gimme that apron, and take these fine folk down to Dux’a, and when they’s done there, run ‘em by Jost’n.”

Tal’ar turned to Luna: “She’ll set you up with the finest garb in all the province! Better’n those poor rags I had to give!”

Reaper bowed: “Her Highness was most appreciative of the clothing, but is indeed looking forward to getting fitted with something a bit more suited to her frame.”

“I bet! Looks like your gear was worse-for-the-wear, too!”

“I came woefully under-equipped for such a dangerous mission, but thanks to your courtesy and Regel’s help, I am sure I can rectify that shortly.”

Tal’ar grinned broadly: “And thanks to them gems, too!”

Reaper smiled: “I was under-equipped, but not wholly unprepared!”

Tal’ar held the door open as Reaper and Regel stepped out into the street. She bowed slightly as Luna passed: “You take good care of ‘em, Regel, or I’ll beat you sump’in awful!”

Reaper offered his hand to Luna’s as they descended to the street: “I’m sure he’ll do fine. We shall return sometime after noon. Please have food ready to take to our room.”

Tal’ar stepped back through the inn’s door: “As you wish, good Sir!”

Reaper turned to Regel: “Please take us first to Jost’n so that the seamstress may get a head-start on our new clothes. Then we can go the bathhouse.”

Regel nodded and waved Reaper and Luna across the street, up a few hundred yards, and down a side alley, ending in front of a brightly-painted shop emblazoned with crossed needles.

Regel opened the door and stuck his head inside: “You here Jost’n? I brung the guests Tal’ar told ‘ya about!”

A short, thin, wiry woman smoking a clay pipe appeared from between two rows of shelves piled high with fabric and leather and ornaments of all sizes and colors.

Luna’s nostrils flared and she turned to Reaper: “Is that also zaka?”

“Yeah, she smokes it, which is also pretty common. Wonder if it’s more of the local stuff, or imported from the south?”

Jost’n stepped in front of Luna and peered intently at her. Luna stood very still as the little seamstress circled her, prodding, touching and murmuring appreciatively: “Tall thing, ain’t ‘ya?”

Reaper nodded: “The T’zesa is indeed tall, and in need of a full compliment of appropriately-sized garb.”

Jost’n suddenly pulled Luna’s cloak open, reached inside the work shift and hefted a dark breast in her scarred, bony hand. Luna’s eyes widened and she blushed.

The seamstress backed away a step: “Built like a Lost Goddess, too. I ain’t got nuthin’ fine enough for a body like this!”

Reaper suppressed a grin: “We do not seek finery--we need sturdy clothes for a long journey. I will need to be refitted as well.”

Jost’n turned to Reaper and looked him up and down with a wink: “You look to be a pretty standard model--don’t think I have to grab anything of your’n!”

Luna bit back a chuckle and spoke softly to Reaper: “How quickly do you think she can be done?”

“Let me ask.”

Jost’n scurried toward the back of her shop with Reaper in-tow: “Her Highness wishes to know how long you think your work will take; we are rather pressed for time.”

The seamstress rummaged through piles of cloth and half-finished clothes: “Well, I was mostly done with a kit fer a young warrior. He was sure to pick it up when he got back from some battle or other.”

She turned and held up a nearly-finished cloak of dense, deep-blue wool, fingering it sadly: “But the tales got back to town that he was kill’t by Yunada’s troops down south a few days ago, and ain’t comin’ back for nothin’ more than a shroud.”

She shuddered: “If there’s even enough left to bury…”

Reaper grimaced, then turned and noticed Luna peering at his face with narrowed eyes. He motioned for her to join him: “Come take a look at this; I think our friend here can get this fitted to you in short order.”

Luna ducked under a low beam and joined Reaper and Jost’n, who was holding the cloak high, letting the fabric fall free in dark, rippling waves until it nearly brushed the floor.

“I think this’ll fit Her Ladyship quite nice. I gots a matching i’nak-skin doublet and breeches, but I’m gonna have to let out the hips a bit.”

She tipped her head and gazed at Luna’s bosom: “And I fer sure gotta do somethin’ ‘bout the doublet and blouse! Only men ‘round here with tits that big have bellies to match, and only half the height!”

Luna took the cloak and ran it through her hands: “Silver.”

Reaper furrowed his brow: “Silver?”

“This is beautiful--ask if she can trim it in silver.”

He turned to the seamstress, who was busy making notes on a scrap of parchment: “Could you trim it with some silver embroidery? Nothing splashy, just something to highlight the edges.”

Jost’n smiled: “The Lady don’t want to look the part of a warrior, I takes it?”

Reaper shook his head: “Not at all--in fact, I think she rather fancies the thought. It’s just that she has a special affinity for silver; it’s the principal color of her House.”

The little woman nodded: “I understands. I think she’ll make a damn fine-looking warrior princess, meself!”

She stepped to a shelf and pulled out a large piece of inky-black, shiny, silky fabric--tazko: “Still, I thinks she could use a little finery, don’t you? Linen underthings are fine for you and me, but not a T’zesa--even one fitted-out like a warrior!”

Luna stepped up to examine the tazko in Jost’n’s hands as Reaper nodded: “Agreed. Now, back to our short time…”

“Sure. I’ll get me girl workin’ on the underthings now--those should be done by mornin’, and I’ll have the doublet and cloak reworked by late this ‘eve. I’ll make sure it gets trimmed out by mornin’ too!”

Jost’n turned to Reaper and ran her hands down his body, from his shoulders to his shins, front and back: “I’ll take your measures over to old Ruzo--he kin get a proper set of clothes for you by tomorrow, too. Not as nice as I make ‘em, mind you, but sturdy enough for travellin’.”

“That will be most appreciated!”

Reaper peered into the gloom toward the back of the shop at two robe-like garments hanging near a dyeing tub: “Are those robes? Are they finished?”

Jost’n glanced over her shoulder: “Yeah--them’s wedding janti; made ‘em for a couple who had leave town a week ago. Not sure when they’ll be back. Still need embroidery.”

“Could we borrow them for the afternoon? We are bound next for the baths, and, well, you see the ragged hodgepodge we are currently wearing.”

Jost’n grinned and blew a thin stream of smoke up above her head: “Yeah, I’d say ‘ragged’s’ a pretty fair description!”

She walked toward the front of the shop as Reaper and Luna changed into the heavy, high-collared grey robes: “Hoy, Regel! When ya’ gets your guests settled with Dux’a hightail it back to the inn and bring me their clothes.”

She turned back toward Reaper and Luna: “I took on a boy a bit ago as a ‘prentice--I’ll have him do some stitch-work and patching on yer old garb. Get ‘em cleaned up and wearable for later this evenin’.”

Reaper shook the seamstress' hand, pressing an almond-sized emerald into her palm: “You have my thanks and the T’zesa’s gratitude. We will gladly give another gem when we take delivery tomorrow if everything is as fine as I believe it will be!”

Jost'n’s hazel eyes widened as she opened her hand: “And many thanks to you, good Sir! Let me get my servants on their tasks, so’s I can turn to mine!”

She escorted them to the shop entrance and into the street, where they met Regel and made their way back to the main thoroughfare, turning right and continuing on, deeper into the village, followed by the surprised stares of many of its inhabitants.