2 Chapter 2: Hiding who you are and denying what you aren't.

The prospect of meeting with the Druidess was not the most appealing to Gerald, and it occupied his thoughts for the remainder of the morning with his students.

He could sense her, wandering around the marketplace, asking questions, and even when she finally went into Drefston's Tavern near the gates of the town. There she waited, all the while the teacher tried to calm down his eight excitable students who continued to pepper him with question after question about the stranger. (He even lamented that he hadn't gotten her name.)

Finally, the town priest banged the bells for lunch, and the students went home. Now the man closed the doors to the church, for what would, unbeknownst to him, be his last time. He wandered the markets, visiting stalls that had little interest for him, and taking the time to ask questions and answer them. He even was asked for his opinion as an herbalist by the chief tree grower of the town. (Something that would have been much more of an honor had his mind not been occupied by the prospect of meeting the woman at the tavern.) It was just as he was finally moving away from the last stall when the first drop of rain hit his arm. He looked at the rain and half wished that he could use some of his power to, at least, make it wait until later. But he daren't do that. Not while she was in town. He had finally decided on a course of action. His best chance was to convince her that he wasn't a Warlock, which he wasn't, and get her to shove off as quickly as possible.

He entered the tavern just as the rain began to fall in earnest. (His hip was never wrong) He saw her immediately, sitting with her back to the wall and feeling for him with her power. He walked over and sat across from her at the low wooden table near the fireplace and joined her in staring into the fire.

A minute of poignant silence filled the table. "I thought I said to not keep me waiting." She said at last, her eyes never straying from the flickering flames.

"I'm not a man who takes orders well." He replied. "I was promised a drink if memory serves."

"What's your poison?"

"Peppermint tea."

At this her eyes turned to him. "Really?"

He shrugged. "Lady Drefston doesn't allow me near her liquor cabinet."

"And for good reason." Came a woman's voice from behind him. There stood the owner of the tavern herself, her large frame taking up most of his vision as he turned to face her.

"I already said I was sorry Rebecca."

"But that doesn't fix my Tressed blessed floors now, does it?" She countered. "One peppermint tea. And for you, outsider?"

"The best wine you have." The Druidess stated, pulling a golden coin and setting it on the table. The lady of the house quickly picked it up and bit it to check its authenticity before scurrying away to get their drinks. Silence coated the table with an icy grip as they waited, despite the heat from the nearby fire. After Drefston had returned and brought the bottle of wine and large mug for her and a short wooden cup filled with the tea for Gerald, she was gone again. Her bar and floors always needed tending, especially during a rainstorm.

"Alone at last." The Druidess stated with a smile, giving Gerald a small wink.

"Please don't try to use your power on me again." He replied so quietly that it almost wasn't heard over the other sounds of the other patrons.

Her face sunk slightly, but she continued. "Very well."

"You should also not use the M word here." He cautioned. "I assume that you know the history of this town."

She nodded. "Of course."

"So... what's your name? Or would you rather be simply 'Druidess'?"

She smiled. "That's a good question. My name is Lydia, Daughter of Petal, Heiress to the House of the Rose." She paused, as though that meant much to the man in front of her. But whatever type of action she expected, she was disappointed.

"I thought that the Druids typically named their children after flowers. Why isn't yours?"

"Lydia IS a flower." Lydia replied opening the bottle with a corkscrew and pouring it slowly into her glass for effect. "Just because they don't grow this far to the north, doesn't mean that it isn't one."

"Sorry for my ignorance." He said, nodding his head before taking a drink of his tea.

"Well, you won't have time to get to know me that well." Lydia replied. "We're leaving before tomorrow."

Gerald choked on his tea a little before setting it down. "What?"

"I'm a druidess. You know my... power... is far greater than a mere Warlock."

"I'm not a Warlock."

"Don't lie."

"If I were, I would stop." He retorted. "But look, if we keep using those words, we're going to get some... unwanted attention."

She nodded and looked at him. "Listen... Gerald was it?" He nodded. "I don't care if I have to burn down half of this Drash cursed town, you're coming with me tonight."

"No." He took another long sip of his drink and watched her lips gradually turn downwards and her expression sour. "Sorry. My manners..." he cleared his throat. "No thank you."

"You're coming."

"Don't try to force it." He cautioned. "I'm not one of the people you are looking for, but I don't want to make trouble for the people here." The man sighed, leaning backwards on his chair. "I... I understand why you would think that I'm one of the 'women led', but-"

"Because you are."

"But this is getting out of hand. If you want me to make a Firg I will."

Her eyes widened. "Only Druids know about the Firg."

"And those who have lived among them."

"You lived with our people?"

"I travelled a lot when I was younger." He admitted. "But that was a while ago."

"Couldn't have been that long ago, because of what you are."

He leaned forward. "You have no idea what I am." He confidently stated before grabbing his cup and draining it of its contents. "Thanks for the drink, but I'm not going with you tonight." He stood but his turning to go was stopped by Lydia as she grabbed his arm.

Her face was sour, and her eyes flashed with power, "You have no idea what I'm capable of, fool. Don't try to resist."

"Resisting is easy when you are the one forcing." He retorted, pulling his arm away. "Goodbye Lydia. I'd say that this was a pleasure, but then THAT would be a lie." He then walked out, grabbing his walking stick from the doorway where he had placed it, and hurried outside and into the rain. As the cold rain and wind rustled his jacket, his mind was a flurry of activity. However, one thought stayed constant in his mind. 'Well, at least she didn't discover what I really am.'

The rain tore at him the closer he got to home, and if it hadn't have been raining before he got to the tavern, he would have easily blamed it on the Druidess. 'A noble house, huh?' He thought, after the rain had cooled his temper. 'What in Dryassiad's name is one of them doing here and looking for a Warlock?'

Very few ideas came to his head. True, Warlocks had become far more scarce, especially in light of the curse placed on the Witches as a race by the Wizards during the ancient war, but it still seemed far fetched that a noble, even of one of the lower houses, had been dispatched on a search errand.

He shivered as he walked, and hurried faster back to his hovel. Fortunately the rain began to recede, even as he made it to his front door.

'Danger'. The magic warned him as he touched the doorknob. A simple feeling told him exactly what he needed to know. "Asher Daliath." He cursed out loud. "Why in the nine hells is she here?"

He pulled away from the door and looked to the beautiful sight of the trees. He sighed and worried about the consequences of going inside, or even coming home at all. There was the possibility of a magic duel after all, and he was very rusty when it came to fighting with magic. Finally, after taking a few minutes to clear his head, he finally decided on one thing. 'Well, at least it will finish this way.' He thought. He then grabbed the door, threw it inwards and open, and marched, confidently, inside.