As Onion breathed softly while the fire coals became crusted with a fine grey ash, Gregor pondered what to do with the information about the girl's "talents". He had hoped to keep her out of the world of the bei'thal, but when Vaughn received Anita's report the Nü would not be safe from the pnum bei'thal and it was far too likely that the Silent Scholar would also take an interest. He did not want to see this girl become the plaything of his superiors, and yet his choice had been made. Even given the circumstances, he was not entirely sure he would have chosen differently. His fingers worried at his straw hair. Regardless of whether or not his choice saved her life, he did not want to see this girl become Yiren.
No doubt the gegleth would be at the rendezvous point as well. The mere thought made Gregor feel the onset of vomit.
Damn them to the very center of the core. May the hosts of all keepers run that forsaken race into the fires of the center of the earth. His heart flew to his throat. I must find some way to protect her from the creatures. I doubt this girl is wise to the ways of such filth. Yiren wasn't.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was another half hour before Onion finally came to her senses, and another hour she lay sill, as if asleep, meditating, completing the final touches of her web from this side of consciousness. Lately, this mental reconstruction was becoming far too common an occurrence, but never had she experienced such devastation as she did over this night.
Onion was aware of Gregor's presence while she worked, sitting in silent watch of her every breath. He had long since abandoned the fire which was now merely a pile of sifting grey ash. His head rested awkwardly against the back of the chair, tired in his vigil, but he still maintained a semblance of consciousness.
"You have been here long?" she finally ventured, startling the half-asleep Lithenese man. Gregor wiped his obstinately heavy eyes with a forceful swipe of his middle finger.
"You are up. Excellent. We must depart as soon as you are able." he commanded, focused on his duty under Vaughn bei'thal. He caught himself in a moment of self-consciousness, suddenly ashamed of his callousness. He quickly attempted to amend his words. "That is, if you are well enough. Are you okay? Do you need anything?"
"I am well. You have freed me as promised, not by death, but by life. I am grateful. Direct me where you will."
Gregor handed Onion the satchel Vaughn had brought in hours ago. Glad to be free of the scratching twine of the prison clothed, Onion excused herself to change behind the thick paper and wood room dividers. As she appraised her new Eirdred garb, Gregor spoke from the other side.
"I never asked you before," he started, silent and twinged with a hint of remorse, "because names can be dangerous. There was too much risk at the time, and too little reward in simple pleasantries." he cleared his throat and injected a measure of confidence into his speech. "Let me recover this rudeness, my mother gave me the name Gregor, under the auspices of the joyous shepherd. Will you do me the pleasure of telling me the name by which you are known?"
She smiled, but it went unnoticed to Gregor. "Of course, my brother gave me my birth name and to all now I am known as Vren..."
"Hah!" Gregor chuckled, the name was nothing more than a common, culinary Eirdren noun, "Nice to meet you Miss Onion. So you know, my true name is Tomato."
Onion stopped dead in her tracks, shirt sleeves half on, her bottom still exposed to the stale inn air. She froze as long as her lungs would allow before bursting into laughter. Deep in her core she laughed the entire contents of her lungs pushed up from her belly. Eyes misting pure mirth, she realized for the first time since seeing the forsaken eyes of Rejnev on the field of battle for the last time, that she in fact was not dead. She had not shared his fate. She might even still be alive.
"I am glad to see your sense of humor intact in spite of all that you have been through." he remarked from his wicker chair.
"But you must know I am serious. It is the name my brother chose for me during my third grixi flood season, and I am known by no other name. My parents had already gone to the Master of the Mountain, so by then the choice was his, as the eldest of us all." she told her story to Gregor and the wall.
"Do you know what the word vren means? It is a word of the tongues of my people. It is speech of the continent."
"Rejnev once told me. It is some kind of plant is it not? He told me that after that cold white stuff-"
"snow"
"Yes, that. Like the cap of the mountain. After it disappears it is one of the first plants to burst from the earth with life. That is why he named me so. After the winter of our parents leaving us, I yet sprouted."
"Yes, there is that, but an onion is something we eat here too. Have you ever tasted an one? It makes you cry when you cut it."
"You cry? Why would you want to eat such a thing? No I haven't." she looked confused and a little robbed about her namesake. An onion sounds a much finer thing struggling against the elements than garnishing a dinner plate. As she she stepped our from the dividers, she gauged herself helplessly. What a strange contraption, this continental garb. she thought, this dress. "How do you walk around in this without tripping all over your self?" she asked to no one in particular.
Gregor laughed, "You will learn, as I did in robes. If it makes you feel any better, it suits you. You look quite good in it."
Onion tried to push the comment past her, but offered a smirk. Preferring the language of action and escape, she insisted, "Let's go."
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