Stones (Part Six: Stories by the Fire)
DescriptionTristen tells his story
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The two friends looked at each other for several minutes before Cadmen's manners got the better of him. Although the situation was strange and peculiar Tristen was invited in to sit and discuss the circumstances at hand. Inside the tiny little house was a main room with a fire pit in the center accompanied by two over stuffed chairs with some of the stuffing pooling out of many rips and tears. Cadmen gestured for his withered companion to sit down in the chair opposite him and pulled out a long pipe from which he puffed on vigorously. The house was familiar to Tristen. It held many pictures of hand drawn maps on its walls. He had once thought that the maps made by Cadmen were the only things that kept him from going insane. After a long pause the bearded man let out a long sigh. "Well," he said. Cadmen spoke with the thick accent of the men from the east, and his R's rolled off of his tongue like water along the rocks. "I don't know what you have done this time, and I don't know if I can fix this one. But while you have the time left, you should tell your tail before you drop dead on my floor." Tristen took his friends words in account, and with his hands clasped together he told his story. The thief retold his flight from the city and his dismay and confusion. He told of the small stone that he had stolen from the palace and how he believed it was the link to his sudden old age. But most of all he told of his need to find Dame'l. "You were the only one I knew to go to," Tristen looked up at his friend with pleading eyes. The light shown the helplessness on his face. For Cadmen it was a marvel to see an elderly man look at him with the eyes of a kid brother. "You should have listened to me." His hard eyes could not mask the softness in his voice. "The palace is no place to plunder without want of trouble." Tristen nodded his head at Cadmen's words and thought of what to say next. He had not thought of what his friend could do for him past listening to his story. The fire crackled and lit up the walls of the room in small flickers of light. Cadmen's eyes lingered on the maps there, and twinkled with something close to inspiration. Tristen could always tell when his friend was thinking hard on a subject. Had he thought of the trouble this would cause him he would have considered looking for Dame'l himself, but with his current predicament that was not an option. The story that he had weaved for Cadmen had obviously caused him to feel a mixture of stress and excitement. This could be seen in the way he looked around his walls. Those maps had been there as long as Tristen could remember, but not once did he see his friend drawing one of them. It was a secret thing. A thing that he once did in private during the years of his childhood. Obviously even then he longed for more than the slums could offer. And now the opportunity for that long forgotten adventure was right before him in the form of a wrinkled friend and the beginning of a story told by firelight.