He sat down at the table and extended one of the two tankards in his hands to her.  She smiled in thanks and pulled the mug towards her.

“No food?”

Her question pulled his gaze from glancing about them as he settled into his seat.  “They’re putting something together, innkeeper said it’ll be out shortly,” she nodded as he finished glancing about them.

“Problem?”

“They moved away.”  Confused at first she took a sip from the tankard, and cast a quick glance about.  The ale was beginning to sour but he was also correct.  The patrons at the other end of the long table had gotten up and moved to another, further away from the fire.  The table closest to them had also emptied.  She looked back to the old Landian.  He was staring down into his mug and she reached out to put a hand over his arm.

“You’re legend doesn’t move the same everywhere, good deeds in Koric are a long ways away from Reznor.”  She pulled back her hand and took another sip of the sour ale.  His gaze had followed her hand back to her eyes and he gave him a smile.  “Didn’t peg you for one looking to always be liked.”

He gave her a wry smile, enough of one to show his pain was lessened if not gone.  “Feared and wary has been the normal state,” he paused for a moment, gathering those strange thoughts of his.  “Even last cycle, there was often an intent to keep me separate and it made people uneasy around me.  It has been…” he paused, his mug partly raised, as he thought, “nice, spending some time being accepted amongst others.”

She gave a small laugh into her mug and he smiled at that before taking a sip from his own.  Wiping away the swill she looked back to him, “You sound sentimental there Quartes.”  He gave another single laugh at that and they paused as the innkeeper returned placing a plate laden with bread, cheese, and some sort of pickled green.

“What is that?” she asked wrinkling up her nose as the vinegar and its contents hit her.

“That’s seaweed, even last Cycle it was a custom here to gather and use it.”  He spread some on a slice of bread and cut off a piece of cheese to top it.  “It’s quite good.”  She frowned at him even as he took a bite.  When he finished and she still hadn’t moved to the plate he gave her a smirk, “I wouldn’t expected a bard to so judgemental.”  With a look that assured him she’d find her own barb later she reached towards the plate, making her own portion that had at least a little of the pickled weed.

“People call them weeds for a reason, they’re undesirable.”  She took a bite and cursed him in her mind.

“I’d have thought you’re experiences would’ve led you to dandelion wine.”

She gave him another glare, “You’re breath of experience is annoying sometimes.”  They fell into silence as they ate, a few more patrons hurriedly finished their meals and left but a few more arrived, receiving whispered warnings from their fellows.  A few of those left as well, sometimes making a pretense of only coming to pick up something, sometimes just leaving.  Some stayed and stuck to their evening routines, unconcerned with what some ancient warrior may be doing in their home.

“I have a question for you,” she proposed after they had each eaten a bit.

“That rarely bodes well for me,” he responded as she smiled.

“You’ve been alive a long time,” she stated plainly, taking just loud enough for her voice to carry a little.

“Sure,” he answered, straitening in his chair.

“And Landian memories are supposedly perfect.”

“They are,” he answered with a slight edge of both correction and wariness.

“So why don’t you do magic?”  She looked pointedly at him as she finished, her blue eyes dancing over the rim of her tankard as she took a drink.

In response he took another bite of their meal and leaned back in her chair.  “Why would you say that I don’t?”

“We’ve encountered people who can conjure fire, can cause the firm stones of the earth to jump up and strike their foe.”  She continued with a smile, “I’ve watched you start a fire with flint and I think even I could remember something more impressive.”

“I’ve conjured lightning.”

“Your sword conjured lightning,” she countered quickly, clearing expecting that retort.

Quartes’ rolled his neck, shifting his weight as he viewed her differently.  “Whose to say I don’t wield my own magic?”

“I would fail to have seen it,” she leaned forward, tucking a loose strand of her red hair back behind her ear, and raising an eyebrow at him.  “Doing magic behind my back Quartes?”

“Have you ever seen anyone wield a blade like me?”

She opened her mouth to answer but closed it as she thought.  With a smile she finally spoke, “You’re saying your swordmanship skills are your magic?”  Her tone left nothing to be doubt in her own skepticism.

“I’ve yet to see just skill with a blade end a dragon,” he took a sip of his ale to pause.  “Not all of us wield a flashy form of magic, some of us just want something than can do what needs to be done.”

She took another bite, thinking through the Landians words.  “The artistry, the ritual of it…it’s all to reinforce that the mage is doing something that can create something powerful,” she started haltingly after a moment.  “Doesn’t that mean just anyone could learn how to wield fire, how to create,” she smiled at the next phrase occurred to her, “sword-magic?”

He nodded, not rising to her joke, “The potential is there but do you believe you could wield a sword like I can?”

“No,” she answered.

He gave a nod towards her.  “The limits of skill create limits in abilities.”  Quartes smiled, “It’s why I keep you around, you story-magic,” she nearly choked on her ale at his own creation, “is something I cannot believe I can achieve, and you have far better chance of believing you can wield a sword well, than I have of believing I can understand stories like you.”

Keto sat up again, taking a bite of their meal, enjoying the strange texture of the seaweed.  “I would like to be able to hurl fire around, that does seem useful.”

“With you, I’d be a little worried for the safety of those around us.”  He took a bite to hid his smile as she stared on with mock affront.