Burnom wasn’t a beggar.
He was actually a somewhat decent handy man, and he enjoyed whittling. He sold carvings to new parents. I had a tiny squirrel carving Mom had bought from him when I was little. Hadra had a matching one. He whittled odds and ends Edra. Wooden Mugs. He cut firewood. He made things for Normuran,too. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was responsible for the straight boards that made up my cast.
Life hadn’t been kind to him, but he seemed to revel in feeling miserable.
Whatever had broken him, he’d never felt the need to pick himself back up.
“What are you planning to do for the winter?” I asked, curiously as we made our way to the alcove.
“Dunno,” he replied. “Might ask Naska to use your room once or twice. I did help build it after all.”
“You were only there for the first two days,” I accused, wryly.
“Help is help,” he replied as if that settled the argument.
I sighed. It was the same sigh that anyone who’d interacted with Burnom gave. Edra used it at least three times a week. The frustrating pain of dealing with someone who could succeed… if only they would try.
He was probably clinically depressed, but I’d never experienced that myself, and Enora certainly didn’t have a term for it.
Well. Perhaps they did. He was “The Lout” after all.
“Gods that looks painful,” he said, glancing down at my foot.
“The staff makes it feel… well not good, but I can walk on it. I’d still rather be in my shoes than yours,” I said softly. “I don’t feel like you’re taking this winter seriously.”
“I’ve seen plenty of them before. Hard ones and easy ones. I’ll be fine,” he said.
“Will you? The townspeople are usually pretty generous, and you rely on that. This year will be different, and last I checked you’re not the best hunter,” I said.
“Then I’ll die, and the fine citizens of Pemolar’s Hill will at last be rid of the eyesore that haunts them,” he said irritably. “Besides, I’m in a fine mood today! Or I was. It’s you that’s swimmin’ in the outhouse.”
I didn’t say anything as we turned around a tall rock and came to the place where I’d killed two goblins, and he’d saved me from a third with a crossbow bolt.
“What’s up with that, anyway? Where’s your pep? You basically dodged the draft and I’m sure ole’ Moron will have that leg fixed up in a few days! He healed me up just fine. You should be singing to Big Brother!”
“Just… haven’t had much to be cheerful about lately,” I said. It had been five days now, and we still had no word.
“Well you’re certainly in good company. I haven’t had much to be cheerful about in years,” he said.
Something about those words irritated me. I’d been depressed for all of half a week because my dad and boyfriend might both be fucking dead.
What did he have to be so sad about? Nothing about his life had changed in fifteen years!
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” I asked.
“If you call this living,” he said with a sigh. He focused on me more sharply as we walked down the sandbank into the alcove. “What? You look pissed. What did I say?”
I growled.
“You’re… You just sit here! Doing nothing! Being nothing! Is that enough for you? Aren’t you ever sad that you never did anything more?”
“Hmph. Either get in here and make me something shiny or get the hell out,” he said.
“Fine,” I replied. I’d probably gone to far, but there was nothing I could say that he hadn’t heard from Edra, or my Dad, or half the town at one point or another.
I wasn’t even really sure what I wanted from him. He was just… wasted potential. It irritated me.
He’d turned the alcove into a little campsite over the summer. I bet there were a few village kids in town who’d been angry he’d taken this place, but it really was a little slice of paradise.
Then again, probably not. Ever since what happened with the twins, parents weren’t letting kids out of their sight.
The rocks provided a good windbreak and some of them were solid enough that he’d been able to put a little shelf on it to hold things. Tools. Some ragged clothes. There was a dead campfire in the middle that would heat the area nicely. Until the rainy season he’d probably be quite safe from the cold in here.
Food would be a different story.
“Here,” he said, tossing me a small pouch. I opened it up and found the dried apricots. They looked a little rotted but they were enough. “The rest is there.”
He pointed to a small pile gathered next to the firepit. Stone, bone, and wood logs. They looked freshly cut. As I knelt down next to the supplies, the need bubble lit up in my mind. I’d been curious about this one since the day I’d first seen it. The requirements were a bit lower than they had been the first time I’d seen it. Residual affection from saving each others lives.
Still, the pile of supplies was quite large. The craft would use almost all of the collected clay. He’d gotten plenty of wood and stone though.
I activated my talent and blinked as the stones lifted into the air. Red lightning danced around as sand lifted with the supplies. The apricots drifted out of the bag and spun in a circle around the supplies as each stone began to crush itself in midair.
Soon, the stone had become a fine powder, while the wood shaved itself into strange strips a wooden plate, and four long sculpted pegs, the clay began to encircle the powdered stone, while the wood parts connected to form a tiny pedestal. Pristine wood, smoothed to shine.
The apricots squished into the the stone and clay mixture, forming a slightly reddish hue. The scent of the fruit went from muted to overwhelming in moments. The magic of my talent creating a fresh smell. The stone was shaping, morphing and forming into a sculpture of a woman’s face. The hair still looked the uniform gray of a rock, but it was tinged orange, a few shades paler than my own.
“Oh… g-gods,” he whispered as the face began to form. “My Jaenie.”
The statue finished forming as the stone placed itself gently on the wooden pedestal. At the same moment, the stand landed in the sand. It landed at an awkward angle and immediately began to fall, but Burnom moved like lightning, catching the table and the statue, before it could tumble.
He set the pedestal down gently on a flatter stretch of sand before turning to gaze into the dead eyes of the statue.
“Burnom?” I asked, worriedly. The man had tears in his eyes.
“I’d… I’d forgotten her face. I’d forgotten it entirely. It’s been so long. How could I have forgotten…?” He glanced at me, shyly. Embarrassed and overwhelmed.
“It’s beautiful. She… was beautiful,” I said, feeling like the words weren’t doing the moment justice. He was clearly falling apart and I didn’t know how to make him feel better.
“In… in my homeland, sculptures like these preserve the faces of nobles, so they’ll be remembered for all time,” he said reverently, cradling the statue. His hands were shaking.
I took the initiative and grabbed the statue from his unsteady hands, placing it down on the pedestal.
“I th-thought you were supposed to make the thing we needed?” he snapped, as if suddenly realizing he was blubbering like a baby. “A weapon, or a tool. Maybe a damn bar? This… what am I supposed to do with this?”
“As far as my power knows, you need that more than anything,” I said.
“Pahh!” he barked, startling me a bit. “The thing I need most is a statue!?”
From Burnom’s masonry skill, you have gained 17 free points!
Masonry? I never would’ve guessed.
“I… don’t claim to understand my talent very well. I… hope it helps,” I said.
Burnom looked between me and the statue, and then grew angry. “W-well. Well it’s fine. I hope you got a lot of skills out of that. If… that’s all, then you should get on. Get out!”
I nodded. He turned back to the statue, staring at the face like he was doing his best to commit it to memory. He wiped teary eyes, and then glared back at me. “Go on! Go!”
I turned, and climbed out of the alcove, pretending I couldn’t hear the man weeping.