An Arsonist and a Necromancer Walk into a Bar

Interlude X – Artistic Endeavors

[Five Years Ago]

Palmira scowled up at a dwarf, a heavy bag of dried and cracked pappardelle clutched in her grip. The dwarf glared back down at her, the unreasonably tall merchant towering over her and near everyone else in the marketplace. His fine silken robes clashed heavily with a long and scruffy beard that sprawled past his knees, working well to hide his form. With painstaking slowness, he raised a single bushy eyebrow.

“Were ya trying to steal from me, girl?” he growled down at her, his gravelly voice grating on her ears.

“Of course not,” she lied, huffing smoke in mock-indignation. “Do I look like a thief to you?”

The dwarf scoffed, leaning forward awkwardly at his chest so far that he was practically above her. “All ya humans look the same ta me. That is, ya all look like thieves.”

“But if all humans look like thieves, then that means you can’t tell an honest girl from a scoundrel,” Palmira countered, hands digging into her pockets and pulling out her emergency piccoli. “And as you can see, I’m no scoundrel.”

The dwarf stared down at the pitiful change in her hand, before glancing back up with an unimpressed look. Faintly, she could hear someone snickering, but she couldn’t tell from where. Finally, he sighed. “Ya really think this is enough for what ya were trying ta steal, girl?”

“This is a handful of stale pappardelle,” she told him bluntly. “I doubt it’s worth even this much. But if you don’t want it, I suppose I’ll need to find some other merchant to patronize…”

The towering dwarf twitched sharply, like someone had just slapped him. “Ah, whatever,” he finally grumbled. “I’ll take the coins, and ya get outa here, girl.”

Palmira plastered a fake smile on her face. “Of course Signor Dwarf, I’ll get out of your beard!”

With a cheery wave she skipped away, keeping the dwarf in the corner of her eye just to make sure he wasn’t going to call the guards on her. As she did so, she saw a stubby arm dart out from the back of his robes, snatching a handful of nuts off the table and nearly causing the abnormally tall dwarf to lose his balance.

Palmira blinked, and then the dwarf started glaring at her even harder, and she decided now that discretion was the better part of valor.

Darting around the back of a blacksmith’s market stall and squeezing between two burning forges, Palmira fled the marketplace as quickly as her legs could take her.

Once she was far enough away, she finally relaxed, a victorious grin spreading across her face.

The dwarf may have caught her, but he’d been the only one.

Slipping her hand into her pockets, she ran her fingers over a bundle of dried apricots and some thin hunks of bread. It wasn’t much, but as she’d learned long ago, every little bit counts.

It had been over a year since they’d arrived in Firozzi. And for all that things had changed, just as much had stayed the same.

Too much, in her opinion. Firozzi, as it turned out, was not the miracle she’d been hoping for.

None of the guilds she’d tried to join had accepted her. ‘Too young,’ they’d said. ‘You don’t have enough experience. You aren’t strong enough. It’d be unethical.”

Feh.

Instead of becoming an adventurer, she’d gone back to what she’d been doing in Iscrimo—begging on the streets and searching for someone else who’d hire her.

And, recently, she’d started stealing food from the merchants.

Not much! She wasn’t a criminal, after all. It was only a little bit at a time—just enough for her and Lenna to survive, and never more than she could hide in her pockets.

The markets she visited had enough examples of thieves getting caught stealing for her to remain cautious. If she so much as slipped up once, she’d have to start casting magic with her left hand instead of her right.

She paused as she stepped out of the alleyway and into one of the city’s many piazzas. A shiver ran down her spine, and she glanced up.

The ancient dragon Vesuvius’s hollow eyes glared down at her. Even as a corpse, it had a way of making her feel small.

It reminded her of the Tower. She didn’t like thinking of the Tower.

So she didn’t.

Turning on a dime, she left the piazza, being careful not to accidently burn her spoils in her unease.

Those empty sockets continued to follow her all the way down the street.

Slipping into another alleyway, Palmira made her way to the river, sneaking an apricot from her pocket. She savored the taste.

Eventually she reached the river Rozzi, the large river which cut the city in half. Making her way up onto one of the many bridges that spanned the river, she stopped halfway across, moving off to the side and glancing around. She should be somewhere around here…

Ah! There she is.

Palmira grinned as she spotted Lenna hunkered down along the edge of the bridge. She sat with her back to the railing, a pile charcoal and sketches haphazardly scattered around her. Hunching forward, she had another piece of parchment draped over her lap, which she was currently working on with a deep frown of concentration.

Sauntering over, Palmira plopped herself down next to her friend with a smile. That smile turned into a frown when she realized Lenna hadn’t even glanced up from her drawing.

Really, this is why she was so worried about leaving her alone. No situational awareness, this girl!

“Hey!” Palmira waved one of the dried apricots under her nose, casing the other girl to jerk back in surprise. “I’m back, and I got food!”

“Palmira!” Lenna narrowed her eyes, clutching her drawing close to her chest. “You startled me!”

“Well you should’ve been paying more attention. Now, are you going to take it or not? My arm’s starting to get tired~”

With a huff, the other girl snatched the apricot from her hand, quickly stuffing it in her mouth. That done, she turned away, going right back to her drawing.

Palmira merely rolled her eyes, pulling out a chunk of bread to nibble at. Watching the people walk by, she began to zone out, eyes drooping but alert as the sun slowly made its way overhead.

Eventually Lenna finished, leaning back to glare at her work with a squinty frown. The image on the parchment was an incredibly life-like rendition of the cityscape drawn with charcoal. It showed the spires of the churches, the limestone buildings breaking for the river, and people of every race and gender walking across the grand bridge.

Palmira stared at it with awe, because despite only using parchment and charcoal, Lenna had created something truly beautiful.

“Tch.” Lenna scowled, putting it back on the ground next to the others. Then she pulled out another page of parchment and began drawing again. “Not good enough.”

“You’re crazy,” Palmira scoffed, rolling her eyes. How in the world was that not good enough?

Lenna just grunted, and the two of them would have spent the rest of the day sitting there like that, if someone hadn’t decided to interrupt them.

“Excuse me, Signorinas?” The two girls jumped, startled. Raising their heads, they saw a young man in fine clothes, arm-in-arm with an equally well-dressed woman. “Would you take two grossi for one?”

The two girls stared at him, blinking owlishly. “Um,” Lenna asked slowly, “What are you talking about?”

“The… picture?” he frowned, looking equally confused. “You’re selling them, aren’t you? …Or are you not?”

“…Selling?” Lenna stared at him. “Uh, no, we—mrgph!?”

Palmira smiled sweetly at the man, palm covering Lenna’s mouth. “Actually, they’re three grossi each.”

The man didn’t even try to barter. “Of course, of course!” Without hesitating, he reached into his coat and dropped three silver grossi into her free hand. Then he gathered up one of Lenna’s pictures, rolling it under his arm with a casual smile as if he hadn’t just dropped more money than she’d ever seen in her life into her hand. “This will be a wonderful keepsake of our time in the city, don’t you think dear?”

“Indeed,” the woman returned his grin, before turning that smile on them. “You two are quite talented, make sure you nurture that talent well! Have a splendid rest of your day, girls!”

“Uh…” Palmira watched them walk off, disappearing into the crowds. “…You too…”

“Pwah!” Lenna finally removed the hand covering her mouth, scowling at Palmira. “What was that!? You just let them take one of my drawings!?”

Palmira turned to Lenna, incredulous. Then, silently, she pressed one of the silver grossi into the palm of her hand.

“Lenna,” Palmira said slowly. “With this, we can afford food for a week. No, maybe even a month.”

Her friend’s scowl deepened, and she turned away, clutching the small coin in her hand. “That’s… I mean, you’re right. I just don’t like the idea of selling my art. I mean, I spent so much time working on it, just to give it away feels… you know…”

Palmira frowned at her. She didn’t, in fact, know.

Opening her mouth to ask her what she meant, she was cut off once again.

“Excuse me?” they turned to look up, a young man having walked up to them. “Did I see that you were selling art over here? How much for the picture of Vesuvius?”

Palmira—much to Lenna’s chagrin—felt her heart swell with something she hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

--

Eventually, when the sun began to set and the danger of the night overwrote her desire for money, Palmira and a grumbling Lenna left the bridge.

They didn’t make as much money the rest of the day as they did from that one couple, unfortunately. Most people just couldn’t afford to spend so much silver on art, and those who did tended to have better places to buy it.

That led Palmira to realize they’d accidentally scammed that nice couple. Though, considering how wealthy they looked, she didn’t feel bad at all about it. The money meant infinitely more to them than it ever would to that couple.

Her guilty conscious cleared, Palmira opened the door to their temporary ‘home,’ dragging a sulking Lenna behind her.

It wasn’t technically theirs. They weren’t even renting it—the building had been abandoned for years, and they were just the latest group of squatters to move in. They weren’t even the only ones currently living there, as two other families were camping out in the much more spacious and less leaky downstairs while the two girls slept in the one upstairs room that still had a functioning roof.

Altogether, about twelve people—half of them unrelated—had crammed themselves into the five-room dilapidated townhouse. And while some (most) days that became unbearable, there was something to be said about safety in numbers.

Also something to be said about living with people who knew how to cook. As the two girls entered, the smell of barely soup hit them. In the middle of the foyer a pot of water boiled over an open fire, a middle-aged woman whose hair had long gone grey stirred it almost mechanically. Beside her was her son, a third their age and playing with—HEY!

“That’s mine!” Palmira yelped, leaping forward and tugging Signor Baffi from the thieving toddler’s grasp. Naturally, said toddler started crying, spitting snot and tears at her from where he sat.

The woman stopped stirring the pot, letting out the longest, most exhausted sigh Palmira had ever heard.

“I’m sorry,” she picked up her son, gently shooshing him. “He wouldn’t stop crying until I let him play with it. …Are you sure he can’t?”

Palmira felt a bit guilty at hearing how exhausted the woman was, but not guilty enough to give up Signor Baffi. He’d been a gift.

Besides, she’d seen what happened when you gave toddlers things. And this specific boy had a habit of breaking things.

Instead, she reached into her pocket, pulling out a few copper piccoli. “Here, you can buy him a new toy with these,” she handed them to the woman, a bit more forcefully than she meant to. Then, because she was feeling a bit guilty for making the tiny thief cry, she also muttered, “Uh, its thanks, for cooking for us when you can. So, um, thank you.”

With that Palmira fled up to their moldy little bedroom, Signor Baffi in one hand and a still sulking Lenna in the other. As she did, she passed a couple of other men and women, all of them exhausted in one way or the other from long days of back-breaking work for meagre coin.

It was depressing, in a way she hadn’t been able to fully comprehend back when she was a little kid. Unlike them, most of the impoverished families in the cities were refugees who’d fled the tail end of the Demon Wars. Once it had become clear that their homes wouldn’t be getting reclaimed, these ones had made their way further south, hoping for a better life in Firozzi.

Now, they were just too poor to move anywhere else.

Shaking those thoughts from her mind, Palmira dragged Lenna into their room, absently barbequing a spider that had made the mistake of setting up a web in the empty door handle.

Sorry Signor Spider, their room was already at maximum capacity.

Finally back in the sanctity of their room, Palmira felt herself relax, just a bit. Heading over to her blankets to wipe the toddler slobber off of Signor Baffi, she sat down next to Lenna, who immediately flopped face first onto their pile of blankets.

“Today sucked,” she grumbled, shoving her remaining drawings off to the side.

“What?” Palmira looked down at her, confused. “What do you mean? We made so much money, though?”

“I don’t want to sell my art,” she grumbled, burying her face in her blankets. “It’s so bad. I don’t want anyone else to see it.”

“You show me all the time though?”

“Yeah, because you’re you. But they aren’t.”

Palmira didn’t really understand what her friend was talking about. But, for once, this was something she was going to put her foot down on.

“Lenna,” she set her stuffed cat off to the side. Getting on all fours, she crawled over until she was leaning over her friend, looking her directly in the eye. “I’m tired of starving. I’m tired of sleeping in muddy old clothes. I’m tired of sleeping in abandoned buildings and alleyways. I’m tired, Lenna. But this could change everything! Maybe, for once…” she shook her head. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. This could be our chance to make money regularly for the first time in years. I mean… aren’t you tired of this, too?”

Lenna didn’t answer, merely curled into a ball.

“I don’t care if you don’t like it,” Palmira sighed at last. “But tomorrow I’m going to use the money your art got us to buy us fresh fruit and new clothes. And you’re going to enjoy those fruits and wear those new clothes, got it?”

Lenna continued to remain silent until, finally, her muffled voice groaned from beneath the blankets. “…Fine.”

And Palmira sighed, falling back. “Good. Good…”

With a groan, she fell onto her back, good mood thoroughly ruined.

Why did Lenna always have to make things so complicated?

--

After that day they returned to the bridge, still riding high on their success from yesterday and ready to make even more piccoli.

Unfortunately, it turns out that people didn’t buy street art that often, actually. Where the day before they’d sold a dozen drawings, that day they sold only two, and only for a few copper piccoli each. The next day they sold even less.

But they weren’t deterred! At least, Palmira wasn’t, and definitely not enough to stop. Every coin counted, after all! Instead, they started mixing up their spots, cycling between the bridge, various marketplaces, important landmarks, and wherever else they could find a lot of wealthy people gathered together. Not only did that make them more coin, it also stopped Lenna from complaining about having to draw the same thing every day.

Eventually that brought them to the Rodina Guild, one of the first guilds she’d tried to apply to who’d immediately kicked her out with the same old ‘you’re too young’ spiel so many others had given her.

Despite the Rodina Guild refusing to give her the time of day, there was technically nothing they could do to stop them from sitting on the lawn just outside the guild. So the two girls hid in the shade of the statues of heroes long forgotten, burning wood to make charcoal and turning those nameless heroes into art to sell to tourists.

As it turned out, it ended up being the best spot in the city so far, with hundreds of people coming in and out every hour. Between aristocrats, adventurers, merchants and peasants, more people had bought art from them here than anywhere else in the city.

After a couple days of this, Palmira began to get a good feel for who was willing to buy their art and who didn’t care. Merchants and adventurers didn’t tend to give them a second glance, but the lower classes were willing to barter for some cheap drawings occasionally. It was the aristocrats they really tried to attract though, as the few times they were able to sell to them they’d pay just whatever she asked them too. Palmira wasn’t quite ballsy enough to ask them for a Florin yet, but she was getting there.

She digressed. The day had been good so far, it was only noon and they’d made four and a half copper piccoli, which was good. It was cloudy, but still warm, which meant they’d be able to stick around for a couple more hours yet, which was also good. And, most importantly, Lenna had stopped complaining about selling her art, which was very good.

Absently turning another stick into charcoal, Palmira cast her gaze around the park, trying to lock eyes with as many people as she could. In her years of begging, she’d learned that making eye contact with people made them more likely to stop, as the guilt of being forced to acknowledge her overrode their desire to pretend she didn’t exist.

As she locked eyes with one woman in particular, Palmira hid a frown, having instantly pegged the woman as Iscrimi. She had that look of an old money Iscrimi Aristocrat about her—dark eyeliner and makeup, a black dress only broken up by bleached white lines, and a black parasol to protect her chalk-white skin from the sun.

And now she was coming straight towards them.

Crap, maybe this had backfired. Palmira had nothing against the Iscrimi aristocrats—well, beyond them being cruel and greedy and generally very unlikable people—but she whenever she saw one she’d get a jolt of irrational fear that, somehow, they’d recognize her as the one who’d killed their Duke.

“If it isn’t the budding artist,” the Iscrimi gave them a thin smile, pitch-black lipstick making it look like somebody had sliced a line across her face. “I’ve seen you girls around here quite a bit lately. Tell me, do you make all this art yourself?”

Palmira blinked. Then as swiftly as it came she shook off her confusion, putting on the cutest face her angsty eleven-year-old self could muster. “Lenna makes it, yeah! Isn’t she so talented? Look at this one!” She reached down and held up the one closest to her. It was a rendition of the old Duke’s castle, mostly in black and beige but with some greens and reds Lenna had painted using wet weeds and mud. “Isn't it beautiful!?”

“Indeed,” the woman continued to smile at them. “Why, I don’t doubt that in a few years, she’ll even be skilled enough to take commissions from the nobility!”

Palmira nodded happily, glad that this woman recognized Lenna’s talent. Really, it was like everyone except the girl was aware of how good an artist she was.

“In fact, I’m something of a collector myself,” the aristocrat’s smile grew slightly softer, as she glanced at each of Lenna’s sketches, drinking in the sight of each and every one. “A collector of art. A collector of beauty. And, most importantly, a collector of… talent.”

…What?

“Tell me, girls, where are your parents?”

Palmira flinched, while Lenna’s breath hitched, neither of them having expected that question.

“…I see,” her expression grew soft, even as her eyes grew sharp. “Then, that makes things easier. Lenna, was it? How would you like an apprenticeship with one of my artists? Under the patronage of the great Andrea del Loretti, you’d certainly grow to far greater heights then you ever would…” she glanced at the city around them with a sneer. “…here.”

Palmira stared at the woman in shock. “…Wait, patronage? An apprenticeship!? Are you really willing to offer that to us so easily!?”

The woman’s eyes turned on her, and her lips twisted into a frown. “No, I’m not. Not for you, at least. Unless you have some hidden talent you’re for some reason refusing to show off?”

Palmira flushed, both in anger and embarrassment. “I do, in fact! I can do this!”

She grabbed one of the shards of wood sitting beside her, bringing it up and slowly burning it to charcoal in her hands.

“See!” Palmira smirked triumphantly. “I’m a fire mage!”

The aristocrat looked distinctly unimpressed.

“Ah, yes, a fire mage,” she rolled her eyes. “Girl, I live in the city of fire. That’s not particularly impressive to me. Can you do anything else?”

Palmira flinched, but stood her ground. “I’m a hard worker. Harder than anyone else. I even worked as a… um… well, last week at the market, I… ah… I’m also good at… bartering?”

“How common,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m not looking for ‘hard workers.’ I’m looking for artists, for sculptors, for musicians! I collect the greatest artists in the world. What need do I have for a common child?”

Palmira glared, fists clenched at her sides trembling in rage. She opened her mouth to tell the noble woman to go toss herself in the damn volcano, but before she could—

“I’ll think about it.”

Palmira’s head snapped to the side so fast it audibly cracked, starring at Lenna in shock.

“Of course,” the aristocrat smirked, stepping back with a haughty smile. “I’ll be here for three days. When you decide to take me up on my offer, meet me over in the guild. I’ll be looking forward to it~”

With that she left, twirling her parasol arrogantly as she did.

Palmira didn’t care about that though, instead staring at her friend in open shock. “Lenna, you—”

“HEY!”

The two of them flinched. An Örümcek had stomped up to them, the little sunlight that made it through the clouds reflecting off his polished black chitin. What little expression she could make out behind his eight eyes seemed to resemble annoyed exasperation, similar to how you’d feel upon catching your cat knocking a glass off the kitchen counter again.

“I thought we told you kids you weren’t allowed to loiter on our property!” the spider man snapped at them, mandibles clacking back and forth with every word. “This is the fourth damn time this month! I swear, are you kids trying to get arrested—HEY! Get back here!”

Palmira and Lenna, of course, had immediately started packing up their drawings the second he showed up. And with the adrenaline rush that only hit when you got caught trespassing by a security guard, the two girls booked it as fast as their little legs could take them away from the guild.

“Hey! We’ve got a runner over here!”

Unfortunately, their little legs were not particularly fast.

--

Three hours and a stern slap on the wrist later (with the warning that this would be the last time they were going to be this lenient) Palmira and Lenna finally made it back to their ‘home.’

Slumped on her blankets and thoroughly exhausted, Palmira couldn’t help but sigh.

“…Hey, Lenna,” she turned to look at her friend who was, of course, doodling on some spare paper. “Did you really mean what you said back there?”

Lenna glanced at her, before turning back to her drawing. “…What do you mean?”

“I mean about that annoying woman’s offer!” Palmira snapped, a smoldering anger being relit in her chest. “You can’t seriously be thinking about accepting her offer?”

There was silence from her side of the room for a long moment, before Lenna finally sighed, putting down her charcoal. “…So what if I am?”

“So what!?” Palmira literally began to spit fire. “So what!? You heard her! She wasn’t willing to take me with her! And even if she was, she’d from Iscrimo! You know, the city I can’t return to? Why are you even considering accepting her offer!?”

“BECAUSE I WANT TO!” Lenna finally snapped, turning to her with a glare. “Because I love my art, and selling it for scraps on the street isn’t what I want to do! Because if I get this apprenticeship, then I actually have a chance to fulfil my dreams of becoming a famous artist! Because, Palmira, I don’t want to spend the rest of my life moving from moldy attic to moldy attic every time you burn somebody’s house down!”

Palmira flinched, before a glare overtook her features. “That wasn’t my fault!” she snapped. “And it wasn’t like I asked you to follow me, either! You came yourself!”

“And I’m not asking you to follow me now! And you know what? I followed you because Giulia wanted us to stick together, and she was my friend, and so were you! But now she’s as good as dead, and you… these past few weeks have been awful! You’ve been forcing me to draw things I barely care about for strangers, dragging me all around the city to sell my stuff for a pittance! You’ve ignored all of my complaints and barely even talk to me when it’s not about selling my art! Are you… are you even my friend anymore!?”

Eyes wide and wild, Palmira yelled back, “I just want to survive!”

“But I want to live!”

The two of them stared at each other, breathing heavily. Then, finally, Palmira turned away.

“We’ll talk about this later,” she grumbled, settling down for bed. She felt sparks flicker unsteadily in her palms, and forced her fists closed. She was too angry right now, too emotional. She didn’t want to do anything she might regret.

Lenna didn’t respond, simply turning away from her.

And so, with eyes and fists squeezed shut, Palmira forced herself to sleep, promising herself she’d figure out how to convince her friend to stay tomorrow.

She’d never get the chance.

Before she’d even woken up, Lenna had packed up her few meagre belongings and fled, without even saying goodbye.

That, more than anything else, was something Palmira would never forgive her for.