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Allea Marya Kalderasha

I trod the marshes, leading the lame and the blind. I had lost my way and yet I was whole in body, heart, and head and those who were not followed me. Days of water filled with odd things that brushed against feet and sometimes a splash behind and that horrible feeling, the not-knowing. Not knowing whether something had pulled one of the followers down or if that one had simply finally fallen. The hunger, the life-sucking insects, and the life-breaking fear of the not-knowing.

I was not born to this. I may one day again be a leader, but I much prefer to watch and learn. My mother proclaimed me odd from my birth. My father's trade kept him from home. Many thought me a brilliant, lovable child, but those who should have known this best left me alone in my mind, frightened by my strangeness. Frightened by my early walking and speaking, especially as I spoke sentences, not the gibberish and syllables most children adopt. There was no material lack in my childhood, but I am know sixteen and I hold no memory of my mother's face. She left when I was young and I can only see a single picture of her in my mind. I can always recall her as she danced down the street, free of the burden she had carried by her for three years. I have remembered that dance for many years and remembered it most clearly when I was able to dance for joy at my own freedom, my auburn hair swinging like her honey-blond and my body, shaped like her own, swaying with ease.

I know little of my father. I have been told he was a rich trader and that I have his face and auburn hair, but possess my mother's body and emerald eyes. I remember with fondness the woman who raised me. Este was her name. It was she who held me as my mother danced away down the street and she who told me what I know of my past and my parents. She carried me from my birthplace, near Dragonmere, at Pros and took me to the place that would be my home for the next four years, Iriaebor. Este claimed to be my aunt when those of the Thieves Guild asked what right she had to me. The light shade of her skin, like my own, along with her auburn hair, convinced most of her tale and we were accepted there. She told me the truth, that she carried none of my blood, but that I had been sold to her by my mother.

At three, I was not so much a great pickpocket as I was a grand distraction. Few noble ladies could resist picking me up and around her neck would go little arms to remove a delicate chain, or her rings or ear-rings would become my playthings, almost always given to me when my "mother", Este, would come running to retrieve me. I rarely carried off anything of great value in this manner, but a great number of a certain small child's 'claims' and 'lost' necklaces fed the coffers of the Thieves' Guild.

At home with Este, we sang and soon she was charmed by my piping sound. Soon I was singing to my 'customers'. At the age of seven, I was too old for that ploy, my luck had only lasted so long due to my small size.

In the intervening years, I had learned to truly pick pockets. By age eleven, I was no longer a child. The era of picking pockets had ended. The Guild desired my presence no longer, so Este was forced to turn me out. I ran for a while with the gypsy folk, learning to dance their dances and the court dances that hey had learned while performing before a queen. These folk were my family, my true family. In the next three years, I learned to throw a dagger, to tumble, to play the pipes and lute, and, of course, to dance.

The burning curiosity to know everything that had helped me as a child stayed with me throughout that time. I learned much at home with my ever-mobile family. I saw towns and cities and farms. I danced for a royal household and sang for a farmer's daughter. My heart was that of a child, eager to learn, but my body was fast-becoming that of a woman. Although this was duly noted and certain things explained to me, I was treated no differently from the other girls in the family.

That year, all of my people died. A pestilence fell upon them and they fell before it. I could do nothing but sing them to their deaths until only two remained, the woman who had taught me to dance and her sister's son. Together we buried the others, singing of what good they had done in their lives. Velda, Laneal, and I went on, seeking shelter from another tribe.

And such was my life before the swamp. Now I seek only new songs. Such I found with the Companions of Evernight and with them I myself met death.