This Used To Be About Dungeons полностью

“Sorry I’m late,” she said as she settled in. Her eyes moved to Isra. “You’re the baby druid?”

“I guess so,” said Isra.

“Odd for someone not to know,” said the woman, who was no doubt Dom. There was something masculine in her features and a depth to her voice. Isra found it somewhat alluring. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen,” said Isra. “I think my father knew. He must have.” That was something that had been on her mind. “I didn’t, until recently.”

“But you haven’t asked him about it?” asked Dom. She turned to the serving woman who had come in and said, “Three eggs, boiled soft, and a bowl of oats like the girl has.”

“I didn’t ask because he’s dead,” said Isra. “It happened five years ago.”

“Ah,” said Dom. “A shame, but I’m glad I didn’t stick my foot in it with a pain that’s fresh. Your mother?”

Isra hesitated. “She died in childbirth.”

Dom froze for a moment. “Hmm,” she said, her eyes burning a hole into Isra. “Do you know enough to understand why I would be suspicious of that?”

“Yes,” said Isra. “I was told a druid only comes from a child who has the company of her mother.”

Dom nodded. “And if your mother died in childbirth, you were then raised by…” She trailed off, allowing Isra to fill in the gap.

“My father,” said Isra.

“And what did you do for milk?” asked Dom.

Isra frowned. “I don’t know.”

“If you’re a druid, you can’t have a wet nurse, not unless it’s an animal wet nurse, and—” Dom paused, looking down at Isra’s plate. “Is that bacon on your plate?”

“Yes,” said Isra.

“You understand a pig is a sort of animal?” asked Dom.

“I do,” said Isra. She tried not to be insulted by the question and failed.

“Odd to meet a druid who hasn’t come to the same conclusions about the consumption of meat,” said Dom. “Not the oddest thing about you though.”

Isra frowned. “Sorry.”

“Well, don’t be sorry, it’s your own choice, but you’ve spoken with animals, haven’t you?” Dom frowned. She was moving fast, with a sort of impatience that Isra was unaccustomed to. “Have you?”

“I have,” said Isra. “They seem not to have the same minds that we do.”

“Well, no, I’ll grant that,” said Dom. “There’s nothing complex in the thinking of a pig, but there is quite a lot that’s simple. You almost wouldn’t call it talking, but it feels like talking, and of course when you have an animal with you, it takes on something of you.”

“It does?” asked Isra, not quite following.

“Certainly,” said Dom. “Haven’t you noticed that they have moods to match your own?”

Isra thought about that. “No,” she finally said. “I haven’t noticed. I’ll watch for it next time.”

“Druids are rare,” said Dom. “And we’re a poorly understood breed, even more than sorcs, where we find some common cause.”

“It’s impossible to make a sorcerer though,” said Floren. “That’s one of the primary places we differ.”

“As well as having completely different powers,” said Doreda, nodding.

“All the same, misunderstood,” said Dom, waving a hand. “Tell me, what do you do, aside from having lived in the woods alone for what seems to have been most of your life?”

“I… hunt,” said Isra.

“Oh?” asked Dom, with deliberate calm. “What do you hunt?”

“Deer,” said Isra. “Foxes. Rabbits. The least agreeable of animals.”

“So you discriminate?” asked Dom. “You pick and choose which ones aren’t worthy of life?”

Isra stayed silent for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts, which were swirling. It wasn’t that she thought that a deer wasn’t worthy of life, it was that certain creatures seemed to lack the nobility of others, and if there was a twinge of regret when she loosed her arrow, it was lesser with something like a deer. She didn’t seem to think that she was unique in that regard, not when people kept certain animals as pets and ate others. The decision of what to eat and what to keep seemed, to her, somewhat arbitrary, but she had made her own arbitrary rules on the basis of how she felt about those animals, and it worked for her, in the sense that she’d made peace with killing certain animals and not others.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” said Isra. She turned to the twins. “Thank you for the food.”

“Settle down,” said Dom as Isra started to rise. “You’re right, it’s an inappropriate thing for us to talk about. You didn’t come here for that. Stay, and I can talk about the things that you did come here for.”

Isra settled back in her seat. “I’ve heard stories about us.”

“People think we can do many things, and we can,” said Dom. “But the things they think we can do aren’t always possible. I offer that by way of caution.”

“We can talk to plants,” said Isra. This was not something she’d ever really tried until a few days ago and seemed to take both skill and patience.