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[Xana]

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The last person Xana expected to run into at the bath house was Zeth MelGair. It came as a surprise, and her mood turned almost instantly dark. It became that much more dour when he introduced her to his lady friend as "Mer-Xana" . . . just one more reminder of how often she had been mistaken for her sister by men. There was, at first, awkward conversation.

But then the topic actually turned to Merrique. Zeth was asking questions that Xana was uncomfortable, and at times, incapable of answering. Xana was able to indicate that she was immensely concerned for her sister's safety both physical and mental. Merrique lived almost as a hermit outside of the Dark City, seemingly obsessed with growing plants of every medicinal and illicit sort. Xana herself refused to actually go to the city and its surrounding areas. For now. There were too many unknowns and even more whispered rumors. The memory of a recent correspondence with one of Umbra's nobles tiptoed across her mind, and her stomach clenched.

Most of the family, save a nephew, was unable to contact Merri and have a successful conversation. So much pleading and cajoling to rejoin the gypsy family appeared to fall on deaf, disinterested ears. Letters went unanswered. From what Arahim had mentioned, the only interest Merrique showed in life beyond the fertile soils of her garden was great-nephew Christopher. It seemed that the child brought at least a modicum of joy into Merrique's world. This, Xana did not share.

It seemed that Zeth also had reason to fear for Merrique's safety, and he'd also indicated a desire to talk to her as it had been so long since he had seen some of those he had served beside in Umbra. He had mentioned there were others that might be interested in knowing she was safe and well. Xana noticed a look that Zeth and his companion exchanged, and she wondered what was not being said. With a gruff gesture, Zeth tore a sheet of paper from the ledger on the table and hastily wrote something before folding it into quarters.

This, he handed to the woman. He directed her to find Merrique's garden and leave it with or for her. Both he and Xana urged caution. The woman flapped a dismissive hand at them, commenting that she had been walking among the shadows long before either of the other two had lived.

For the first time in months, a feeling of hope filled Xana. If only somebody could get through to Merrique. Bring her out of the darkness, into the light again . . . both literally and figuratively.

Though neither saw it, she raised a hand in farewell as they left the baths.

As her hand fell back to her side, Xana murmured a little prayer that all would soon be well.
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An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner