And so begins the fifth week of our traversing these foreign lands.
I feel as though I can only picture Pala and Ulvar’s faces from seeing them more recently in the scrying and I cannot help but wonder whether the others truly remember them or truly feel the urgency with which their rescue must be pursued. Sirsi of course does not know for whom we take such trouble and her loyalty is admirable. She bears Einaar’s constant rudeness with a calm common sense and confidence which makes me feel I could learn from her and yet she is yet mysterious and silent, and I know not whether I could confide in her. Thrane of course only knew the others for a short time and had not then formed an attachment to our group, though his companionship is now of a fun and brave nature. Ostog I eternally fail to read and can rarely motivate, and know not how strong his concerns for Pala and Ulvar are. Einaar has become crude, often now seems uncaring and has lost the lord-like gentleman’s demeanor that first drew me to follow him. I sorely miss Pala’s blunt openness to talk of anything and attempt anything bravely and Ulvar’s sense of natural curiosity for the mysterious which no one left among my companions seems to share. And now Ulvar is lost to my vision and still there are no omens and others speak but poorly with the Gods while I stand by useless and I cannot help but wonder has Loki forsaken me? Or is my closeness to Carey disapproved, or am I considered handed over to another’s care? Or even, perhaps, was I never favoured as I imagined. I lie here in the dark, writing in a book meant for useful information and records a river of nonsense. For certain this woman is not the same who left Tarkin’s Point so long ago. To pour my heart out onto unfeeling paper which cannot hope to help, or give message to any God or protector, an account of wishes and worries, is folly. And yet, somehow I feel that in recording these changes and storms in my heart perhaps I will see clearer to understanding who I am and where I am to go when the time comes that they are complete. With Carey by my side constantly I cannot ply my trade beyond the occasional dance or tale and he cannot in any way compensate for the reduction in my sexual offerings, income or sense of purpose in giving pleasure to others, and yet, I find I do not mind. He falls a pale and poor substitute for protection to Einaar, whose favour and constant vigilance I have lost by my devotion to Carey and yet, I simply relish the chance to wear the protectors shoes myself. The gift I protect is perhaps the greatest and only true one I ever shall have the chance to, be he who I suspect, and he blithely thinking he is no one. Should he die, I must see him live again or follow him to the next life, unless I by then can take precaution to keep a part of him in this world …. But without Pala’s care, can I possibly carry a child and survive in the conditions I face every day… I cannot be sure, and so, I must keep taking the precautions against it I have known as long as I can remember and be ever prepared to give my life in his name. And I do not even know why…… His value in my quest for a throne is not even certain, his strength is little and his knowledge mostly concerns locks, and if he is no one, Einaar’s position with informants spreading across the land is much more likely to offer a position of power to me should I devote my love to him. But I cannot any longer feel that Einaar deserves my heart. No man in all my life of loving has deserved it, and I have never felt compelled to give it, though I have forever longed to find someone worthy. How this seemingly insignificant locksmith’s apprentice entices me to lose my grip I cannot fathom. I know it is more than a desire for a throne seat beside him for that is only a dream, a fancy created by a few converging clues. He has nothing special on any man I have bedded, yet his touch holds an unusual power over me and his eyes hidden depths that call to my curiosity and awaken a desire to protect, and to preserve. In the dawn hours on my watch I draw us at the altar like a stupid teenager (evidenced below). And in the daylight hours I present a façade of being in charge of all that passes between us.
I at once long to be in a familiar Nordic or Helraki inn where I might use my wiles to solve further the mysteries we face, and know that were we back, I would only be a shadow of my former magnificence while under this spell. I can only set my heart on finding Pala and pray that Ulvar is alive, and meantime ensure that no harm comes to Carey for he is ever increasingly growing into my prince. I pray Loki that you still hear me though I betray your gifts by devoting myself to this one, forgive me this one trespass and help us find our friends and learn how all these threads weave the continents together. I will not fail your purposes further than to keep this Carey from harm.