Kjaelle (shayle)

Hair
Long, black
Eyes
Green
Age
(before death) 42 years
(after death) 8256 years
Occupation
Scam-exposer

Personality

Positive:

• strong
• kind
• desire to help others (whether they appreciate it or not)
• fanatically loyal to close friends

Negative:

• holds grudges
• little patience for the willfully unintelligent and incurious
• no patience for betrayal

Kjaelle kept step with Vesh, struggling with his long strides, cursing him under her breath. His half-smile admitted that he recognized her annoyance as they raced for the main square of the town in an attempt to evade their pursuers.
She had pointed out how fortune tellers scammed their audiences. That was it. How was she to have known, a famous--and fake--Sun acolyte who claimed divine Touch had just visited Fairway, and plopped several very nice predictions onto the heads of the naive populace. Predictions they desperately wanted to believe were equal to the money he charged for the privilege.
Asshole.
A crowd gathered in the square, around a tall, uninteresting fountain with a round base and a middle pillar that contained no decoration, both made from chalky-white stone. Their numbers slowed their momentum, and Kjaelle gritted her teeth; the mob behind them would rely on their fellows to snag her and Vesh. Dammit, how did she get into these situations?
Vesh wove through the enchanted spirits, and she followed in his wake. Only a couple made a rude comment about jostling before riveting their gaze back to the fountain. Why the interest?
A beautiful male voice rose above the general babble, high for a baritone, but with enough punch to carry above the crowd. Wonderful. A player would attract a lot of attention in this backwater hole, especially one whose tone sounded so divine. Sweet, authentic, with a hint of mischief beneath, and probably fake, too, all enhanced with spells.
The mob ran into the back row of gawkers as a flash of sparkly light atop the fountain lit the evening twilight. The crowd aahhed at the sight; Kjaelle wanted to snap at whoever made their escape more difficult than normal. She and Vesh had fled thousands of unhappy people upset they pointed out the deceptions that parted them from their money, had snuck back to reclaim their wagon and horses after those agitated people took them into custody, and dashed away.
All to expose scam artists those people did not want exposed.
Vesh slipped into the opening between the crowd and the performer; a human with the brightest red hair, juggling magic and singing in time to the rhythm. An opening in the crowd grew behind the fountain as people edged around it for a better view--they just needed to reach it.
She glanced at the singer as the magic burst apart into beautiful swirls and stopped.
His companion. The black-haired, blue-eyed man sitting on the fountain edge, met her gaze, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Kjaelle!" Vesh hissed, snagging her hand.
The player cast his light magic across the open space, where it flared and popped. The crowd gasped; Kjaelle turned as the mob jumped away from the surprise attack.
"That's not going to hurt you, you know," Red said, eyeing them with annoyed cheerfulness, one eye squinting, one with an eyebrow raised.
"You're protecting them?" one woman shouted, enraged.
He blinked. "Protecting who?"
"Them!" she shouted, pointing at her and Vesh.
"And what did they do? Something dastardly?"
"We didn't do anything, Red," Kjaelle snapped, her mind racing. Him. It was him.
"She told us The Sun's Mouth, Eclesis, is a fake!"
Red reared back, surprised. "Oh. He is. I thought everyone knew that."
Instead of two, now four of them ran away from the enraged mob, whose townmates joined them in the hunt. Kjaelle did not know whether to feel irritation or gratitude that two more became the targets of mindless rage.
"This is the most fun we've had in yilsemma!" Red gloated, unconcerned at the ghosts roaring down on them.
"I think I'd rather have fun in a little less stressful environment," his companion grumbled.
He heaved a sigh--a feat for a ghost--and the tree-shaded road disappeared, replaced by another, rockier way, with thicker foliage lining it. An abandoned back road? How had he traveled with them, no ziptrail in sensing distance?
That was not her concern.
"You're him," she said as she stuttered to a stop. She looked up into those blue eyes, swallowing the compassion she noticed there.
He reached for her cheek, brushing away tears. Tears. How was she crying? Ghosts did not cry!
"Kjaelle?" Vesh asked, anxious, gripping her arm.
"He's the one," she whispered. "The one who saved me from the Fields." His eyes. She would never forget his kind eyes, or the gentle sweetness behind them.
"I did," he admitted.
"Your Darkness, I know it," she whispered. She knew the flavor, the touch, the soft silkiness of shadows and the calming darkness cradling those who rested at night. She had looked to Veer Tul as a young and naive acolyte, seeing joy in darker things. Others had not, and thought her odd, thought her warped. But when he rescued her from the Beast's false judgment, the same joy swam in his magic, and she sucked it in as she now did the mists.
"Yes."
"I to you, I will serve, for the aid given. I've nothing else to offer."
"Veer means more to you than that."
"Yes."
His gentleness swirled about her, sugar-luscious, addicting. "Then go to him, Kjaelle. He will not turn you away. And after you do, Qira and I will be waiting."