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[gypsy_merrique]

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Merrique was grateful that Walter took the time out to talk to her after her first foray into any kind of danger in the name of Umbra. Granted, she knew that simply being one of Umbra brought with it certain dangers, but going out ahead of the patrols to see if all was quiet definitely had its differences. There was so much chaos that night, after the clash with Sanctus, fellow Umbrans going about their post-battle routines and decompression. It was nice to be validated and encouraged.

On the heels of that skirmish, the next night brought the ritual, which would restore Matriarch Ceinwyn to her proper form. The ritual demanded a willing sacrifice, with no guarantee that the practitioner would return from beyond the veil. Merrique found herself strangely at one with the idea. She had felt, and said as much, that she would lay down her life for Ceinwyn, for Umbra. It was Ceinwyn who gave her a new chance at life and gave her good things. A real bed, not a straw pallet, to sleep upon; Merri would never forget something such as that. Something many took for granted, but a huge thing to the wayward gypsy.

Fate cast its die, and Merri was allowed to return from beyond the veil by very powerful magic, after having personally returned Ceinwyn's vampiric curse to the shadowy world where it belonged. After recovering well enough to leave the Matriarchal family to itself, she wandered back to the Den.

There at the bar sat that very brightly dressed man, Quintin. Over in a corner sat Walter, a quiet and forceful presence compared to the other man. He smiled when he saw her and beckoned her to join him, and without much thought, she did. The two spoke quietly, and Walter would not let her serve him his ale, he insisted Kane could tend his needs, and that she take the rest of the evening off of work and just relax. No sooner had Walter said this to her, when she felt her stomach churning, her mouth watering. With a mumbled apology Merrique bolted from the Den and down the steps, around the corner. She gagged, bent over, and vomited up a large amount of blood—blood no doubt that was residual from the ritualistic, self-inflicted wound that had allowed her to remove the Matriarch’s curse. The sight of the blood hitting the freshly fallen snow brought another wave of nausea but no more episodes. She stood in the cold, bare foot, with her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

Merrique stayed that way for minutes that felt like hours, willing her stomach to stop that dreadful dance that it was doing. At some point, the weary woman felt a hand rest on the small of her back, another on her left bicep. A quiet and now familiar voice asked if she was going to be ok or if she needed help, and she shook her head; further response was just not in her capability.

“Merri, where are your shoes? It’s freezing out!” Walter inquired.

Standing upright, she looked up at him, perplexed. “I think I left them in the place beyond the veil.” Walter looked puzzled at that but said nothing.

“Get inside, you’ll freeze,” he said to her in a way that suggested it really wasn’t up for discussion. With that, his hands still upon her, he guided Merrique back into the Den until she was composed enough to clean herself up. They went in by the servant's door near the stable, and Merrique went to her room. Walter stood in the doorway as she found a pair of boots and sat to put them on. "You sure you're alright Merri?" he asked and she looked up at him yet again, still feeling weak and too tired to answer.

The man who so many spoke of as a fearsome fighter knelt before her and slipped the boots onto her feet with gestures that were almost delicate, and very deliberate. When Merri indicated that she wanted to go back upstairs there he was, assisting her up the steps and making sure she didn't fall. They returned to the table at which they previously sat and engaged in small talk but also many silences.

Both occupants of the corner table jumped a bit when Ceinwyn's voice called out Merrique's proper name. It frightened the gypsy, as Ceinwyn almost always called her Merri unless it was a grim moment. With dread Merrique got to her feet and stood before the Matriarch, gripping the back of a chair. Many various thoughts flooded Merri's mind, but nothing could have prepared her for what she heard.

Ceinwyn proclaimed Merrique elevated from servant class, and named her the first noble of Umbra. She gave Merrique the honored title of 'lady'. Without much fanfare she told Merrique she would be in touch with her new assignments, and left the Den. Merrique wobbled on her feet, her legs feeling like rubber.

For the second time that evening, Walter guided her from one place to another. He sat her back in her chair and grinned at her.

"Lady. My my my," he said to the stunned woman who for once was at a total loss for words. Merrique simply stared at him across the table.
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. . . But the dark is very trustworthy.
It's always as dark as you thought it was.
And you don't have to work at staying there.
All you have to do is survive it.
And I've been doing that forever.
from the novel "Dark Debts" by Karen Hall