A Spark

Berra — A Spark

????, Earth Season, Stasis Week


Earth Season, Stasis Week, Windsday. Breakfast, after sparring. [[[s02:session-10|Session 10]]]


Some discussion is had on relative merits of different swords and how greatsword seems to require to be kept moving to maintain momentum.

Berra is laughing over it, and finally says, “Damn Rajar! I feel I need to learn it because I can’t let him down. He got me a pack animal for all the big swords.”

“With his axes he may have some insight on that matter.” Xenofos smiles warmly.

“He does have rather a lot. I’m good at the spear as well as the broadsword, but … well, a greatsword is different. Like you say, you can’t stop much. Which suits me anyhow, but being unable to makes me want to start.” Berra is not eating much today. She picks at her food, slicing up an olive into the thinnest strands she can.

Xenofos leans back looks and changes the subject. “You know, I can’t help but feeling some pity for Kesten. Seems like a decent chap – despite being a Hulta.”

“Oh, yes. Sometimes you can’t help the Clan you were born into.” Berra leans forward, crossing her arms on the table and resting her chin on them briefly, until she finds out she cannot talk that way. “I don’t know how to track down a murderer further, though. We know where he used to worship. Can you find where a new Temple has opened if…” she trails off and shrugs and half unwinds to reach for beer.

“Well who is the murderer – the one wielding the blade or one ordering the deed? One is missing, one most probably the other he cannot touch or expose.”

“One of them worships a murder god. And one of them was willing to work with that. It wasn’t his mistress, probably. Or she would have left earlier. Maybe.” Berra shrugs. “But you know I have nothing against the Hulta? To me they showed good judgement in not trusting Dormal. I know he’s your Clan, though.”

“I do not reckon him kin, not anymore. Some do, I know.” Shrug. ” As to Rillo, Kesten unearthed a motive to kill him, and that points directly back inside his own house. And shows Rillo had it coming, staining house honor and reputation, even when we are not actively making it known.”

“It would rankle me , both my sense of Honor and Truth if it happened to me.”

“And he has to live with that.” Berra sighs, reaching out a hand to tip her beer cup back and forth. “He is one of those people who lives honour, loves Truth. Poor bastard. I like him. Because of that and because it doesn’t make him unkind.”

“Yea, one can only sympathize, demands of honour and truth can be harsh. But since Rillo is alive now, I doubt if anything further comes from this.”

“He was really good to me too, when he didn’t have to be.” Berra finally picks up her cup. “I was thinking of going for a walk today, and it’ll probably end up with me climbing some stupid building or another. Stupidly. Want to come?”

“Sounds nice, but I think I’ll need to check if Varanis has bright ideas for searching Garin today. She seemes – should I say determined.”

“Windsday. She may not be with us until late. But I’ll be in her room for a bit anyhow, until I can’t stand it any more.” Berra scoops up cut-up remains of her olives and shredded bread into a pile with her knife and transfers it to a spoon, eating it as she gets up. That done, she pauses. “Maybe I should see Kesten again. See if I can help him.” She is more speaking herself then Xenofos.