Page 27 of Captured on Film
“Of course, Andor and Oaken aremostfamous for theirwine. My clan are vintners, too, but our claim to fame is honey mead.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Merryvale’s mead is world-famous. Even little reavers takenips on festival days.” She studied him with a faint smirk. “You have reaverblood. Did you know that?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re probably an offshoot or a throwback. And it probablysaved your life.” Lifting her jaw toward the others beyond this room, she cheerfullyrevealed, “You made Andor very,veryangry. But you’re surprisinglysweet, and bears have a weakness for your sort of soul.”
Caleb shook his head, trusting his face to communicate theenormity of his bewilderment.
“You have reavers in your pedigree, and your inheritance is lovely.I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve been pestered by Ephemera all your life.” Shepointed at him, giving her finger a little twirl. “Untrained reavers let it allhang out, and it can be … alluring.”
“I’m not the only one who sees things?”
Hesper’s expression gentled. “No. You’re not alone. Theworld is full of reavers, and my people cherish humans with the qualities you possess.”
It occurred to him that this was a rather large secret.Warning flags were waving. “Should you be telling me this?”
“Not under ordinary circumstances, but I’m providingcontext. You may as well understand your place.”
“Which is?” asked Caleb.
“Here.” Hesper didn’t mince words. “You saw too much. Youknow too much. You’re not leaving.”
Borrowed Clothes
Once he was alone, Caleb inspected the clothes Hesperhad brought. He seriously doubted they were readymade. No label to hint at the sizeor country of origin, let alone the fabric content. He was no expert, but he waspretty sure the seams hadn’t been machine stitched. So who was the tailor?
Unlike the rough-looking tunics that Andor and Oaken wore, thisone looked expensive. The cloth slipped over his head and settled against hisskin like silk. Caleb didn’t think he was imagining the faint luminescence thatwas a dead giveaway that he was dealing with a figment. Had these peopleharvested thread from the figment-equivalent of the silkworm?
That, in itself, was plausible enough, but he couldn’timagine someone as scruffy as Andor handling such a delicate task. But maybe heshould investigate the rooms, see if he found anything resembling a loom.
The color, a pale gold, did adhere to the trend in Andor’sand Oaken’s wardrobes. Did they like the color on a personal level? Was the dyea local product? Or were all these honey hues important for another reason?
“Are you kidding me?” he muttered. No undergarments had beenprovided. Still, this was a far sight better than dragging around in a blanket.
His pants were a warm golden-brown, and the fit reminded himof athletic wear—stretchy and snug. But the cloth was far from flimsy. He scratchedand prodded at it, curious what gave it so much toughness. Was it hide? Was itsynthetic?
“Dressed?” Hesper leaned past the curtain that served as hisdoor.
“More or less.” Caleb was grateful that the tunic fell tomid-thigh, preserving his modesty. Even so, he was highly self-conscious.
Hesper didn’t help. Giving him a long once-over, she said, “Thetunic looks well with your hair.”
“It’s out of control,” he muttered, scratching at hair thatwas getting unruly.
She startled him by brushing her knuckles against the scruffthat was an inevitable consequence of camping. “You usually shave?”
Caleb hadn’t really registered how tall Hesper was. He hadto look up. “Y-yes.”
“Want me to clean you up?” She arched her brows. “Myfamily’s last cover was a barber shop. I doubt I’ve lost my touch.”
“I thought you made mead.”
“We do. Privately.” Hesper shrugged. “We’ve always operatedsome kind of shop in our neighborhood.”
That surprised him on several levels. “You pass yourself offas human?”
