"The girl traversing the tightrope, she is known as June," declared Allendra, indicating with a pointed finger.
Paliborn, unimpressed, replied, "Bah, that is no great feat. I can do the same."
Allendra scoffed, "I find that hard to believe. Observe, Jolie shall now conjure flames from his mouth."
"I too know that trick. I shall demonstrate it to you later, Eli," replied Paliborn.
Allendra queried, "Have you any skill with illusions?"
"I can perform tricks, but they are not true magic. But if I speak untruth, may my family tree wither and my hand wither too," declared Paliborn, confidently.
Allendra responded, "Indeed, your dexterity is impressive. I witnessed it myself."
The youthful juggler then blew a fiery sphere, expelling liquid gas from his mouth, eliciting a round of applause. He continued to entertain the audience with card tricks, pigeons flying out of his hat, and various other performances.
Paliborn voiced his boredom, "These are mere trifling tricks, unimpressive to me. I would be impressed if one were to vanish before our eyes or soar through the air."
Allendra queried, "But are they not real magic?"
"Look at you, Eli, a scholar even at your young age. I prefer true magic," remarked Paliborn.
Allendra then confided in Paliborn, "May I share a secret with you?"
The halfling responded, "Of course, Eli. Being a confidant is one of my favorite pastimes."
"I once stumbled upon a scroll about occult witchcraft in the Temple of Orion. My aunt dislikes visiting town churches, so I ventured in alone while she waited outside. Before the priest lay an open scroll of parchment, and he was soundly asleep, so I read it. Alas, some of the words were beyond my comprehension. I could not read it all, but it filled me with terror and gave me shivers," Allendra shared.
Paliborn was impressed, "Such courage you possess! Who knows, one day, you might become a powerful wizard."
"Do you think so? Can I truly become a wizard?" asked Allendra eagerly.
"I can sense your potential, Allendra. One day, you may become a wizard of great renown," predicted Paliborn.
"Let us satisfy our hunger now. What shall we eat?" Paliborn asked.
"Corn on a stick," Allendra replied.
"Excellent choice," the halfling agreed.
They settled on a peaceful spot away from the crowds to relish the meal Paliborn had procured.
"Tell me, Eli," the halfling inquired, "have you ever been plagued by nightmares?"
"Sometimes," the child replied, "the kind that dwell in dark, foreboding places."
"And are they always the same, these specters that haunt your slumber?"
"Mostly," Allendra admitted. "Why do you ask? Have you seen the same shadowy figure as I?"
"Indeed, we all endure our own terrors," Paliborn consoled, "though mine is to remember too much."
"How so?" the girl asked.
"I prefer to forget," the halfling explained, "for the weight of remembrance can be too heavy to bear."
"I too wish to forget," Allendra confessed.
"What troubles you, Allen, er, Eli?" Paliborn queried, noticing the child's reticence.
Allendra glanced at him with a hint of suspicion. "Are you interrogating me, Pal?"
"No, dear," Paliborn assured her. "What is the matter? No such thing. We are simply conversing. Would you care for some roasted beans?"
"Very well," Allendra acquiesced.
The two fell into silence for a time, taking in the diverse crowd of humans, dwarves, halflings, and a few elves around them.
"Shall I tell you a secret, Eli?" Paliborn ventured.
"Secrets are to be shared with those we trust, are they not?" Allendra asked, her gaze fixed upon him.
"Indeed," Paliborn agreed. "I have decided to trust you. Did you know that this land, once called Illuthar, was once home to many more elves and dwarves? It was said to be a land of brotherhood, of equals, but that was a falsehood."
"What happened?" Allendra inquired.
"A man who calls himself emperor drove many non-humans from these lands, beyond even the Rainbow Range Mountains," Paliborn revealed.
"But that is too far away," the little girl commented.
"Indeed, it is," the halfling concurred. "But do not believe the historians' tales. They all twist the truth to suit their own agendas. These wars were waged by the emperor Ka'Han Malore, not the Archmage Laneth Alhazaurus nor the Head Commander Illuen Dharven."
"Have you ever fought in a war?" Allendra asked, wondering about war stories.
"I may have been caught in the midst of it," Paliborn replied enigmatically, "but I do not fight for any cause. I remain neutral."
"But how can you be neutral when you are in the midst of a conflict? Do you not have to choose a side?" Allendra pressed.
"Ah, these are difficult questions, my dear," Paliborn evaded. "How is it that you are but five and a half years old? Let us change the subject. Tell me something about yourself."
"What would you like to know?" Allendra asked.
"Anything at all," the halfling encouraged.
"Very well," Allendra acquiesced. "I will tell you a secret. I remember everything."
Paliborn's heart skipped a beat. "What do you remember, Eli?" he inquired.
"My parents and the old man," Allendra replied. "As my aunt forbid me to ask questions of my past, I still do not know their names, but I remember them all. The nightmare always begins in a grand house, a mansion, on a rainy day, perhaps..." The child trailed off, lost in thought.
Paliborn's throat tightened, and he swallowed hard. Sarcastic had regaled him with only a fragment of the mistery about her tragic story of birth when they'd made camp for the night.
"This little girl," the old man spoke, his voice weighted with solemnity. "She is unlike any other. A harbinger of great events to come." He paused, his eyes unfocused, as if glimpsing something beyond the present moment. "You will understand once you set eyes on her."
Paliborn had taken the job precisely for this reason. The anxiety and confusion etched upon his friend's countenance were not emotions that he encountered easily.
"Go speak with the girl. You have a gift for reaching people's hearts. Let us see what you discern," the old man urged.
Paliborn had seen enough to complete his report. Did he truly need to delve deeper? He was stunned by the girl's unblemished intellect and purity of spirit. But was he prepared to witness her darker side, a reflection of what was yet to come? A divided apple, one half succulent and sweet, the other half putrid and infested with worms.
"Come, let us depart. Lena shall be worried if we tarry any longer. The sun is almost at its zenith," the halfling spoke up, breaking the silence.
Allendra rose from her seat with a demure air. She cast her gaze downward and began walking towards the tent. Paliborn cursed inwardly; he suspected the girl was offended by his silent treat. He decided to give her some space for now.
As the duo turned towards the tent area, Lena appeared before them, her once-lustrous locks now disheveled and her eyes bloodshot. The woman was in a frenzy, trembling and raging as she charged towards the little girl.
"What manner of foolishness is this, child? Why are these rules in place if you cannot follow them? Where have you vanished to? I thought the black-robed fiends had come and snatched you away, you simpleton!"
Lena seized the girl by the arms and whirled her around, bellowing for all to hear. The entire fair fell into an abrupt hush, particularly in the southern sector. Paliborn attempted to intervene, albeit tardily.
"Pray, calm yourself, Lady Leandra, my apologies, Lena. We are attracting unwanted attention. Please exercise caution. Walls have ears."
"Who are you? How do you know my name? I am the Widow Black of Harova. What gives you the right, halfling?" Lena demanded.
Paliborn inwardly implored for forbearance and, with steely composure, leveled a stern gaze at the woman.
"A yellow leaf, my lady. I am one of the bearers of the yellow sycamore leaves. I bring you a message. But let us retire to the tent, if you please."
At the mention of the yellow leaf, Lena regained some measure of sanity.
"Where is the leaf?" she inquired.
"I gave it to your daughter, or rather, your niece," Paliborn answered as Allendra withdrew the withered leaf from her pocket.
"Very well, then. You two proceed ahead. I shall follow shortly," Lena relented at last.
Paliborn scanned the crowd as he advanced, but took no further action, though a few wary glances were cast his way.
Lena seized a bowl of water from the towering pail beside the tent and tipped it over her head, drenching herself in a cascade of cool liquid. She thirsted badly and raised the bowl to her parched lips, but only a few drops trickled down her throat.
"Come to the crimson tent at midnight," a hushed voice murmured amid the throng.
The witch woman jolted in alarm. Before her loomed an unsightly, squat figure with a stubbled chin and disheveled locks.
"Who are you?" Lena inquired, her gaze steely. Her trembling voice barely rose above a whisper, wary of provoking yet another commotion. She had already had enough trouble for one day.
"Blood magic is the sole path to the dark master. If it be thy will, attend the crimson tent at midnight. This shall guide thee," the man whispered. He proffered a charcoal-black object to Lena, then disappeared into the crowd before she could react.
The woman was frozen in place, unable to respond or even glance at her hand. Just as she was rousing from the shock of the cold water, a searing heat engulfed her skull. The object in her grip was a razor-sharp obsidian symbol of Therion, the God of Darkness, piercing the flesh of her right palm as she balled her hand in fury and fear. Lena peered at the blood oozing from her hand and slowly unclenched her fingers, revealing the rare magical talisman. She had not seen one in ages. The message had found its mark, and the dark ornament had finally reached the long-forgotten witch woman.