Chapter 11: A Gathering

Chapter 11: A Gathering

Ber, Day 37 of Rhexia

Winking Moons

Year 602

Grief is strange. I have never once been able to predict how it will manifest.

—From the private journals of Colin Slager,

Grandmaster Combatant and Chancellor of Craestor University

Evin tried to open her eyes but found they were swollen nearly shut. Her nose felt stiff and full, and she emitted a strange rasping noise when she sucked in a breath.

Immediately, the memories of the day before flooded her, and her raw, red-rimmed eyes filled once more.

Wynn. Wynn. Cotter. The baby. Wynn. Oh, Calumn, Wynn.

She wanted her sister. She wanted her more than anything. She wanted to be held by her. She wanted to hear her voice, ask her what would happen next.

Perhaps it was all a horrible dream, and she would wake up to find that none of it had happened at all.

Could she pretend that it hadn’t happened?

Evin tried. She would have to break herself off into different pieces to do it, but she thought she could isolate the searing pain of her current reality so that it didn’t touch her somehow. It felt cold, partitioning parts of herself off like that, but when she tried to set her heart’s boundaries and face the day anew, the ache simply seeped under each of her walls, drenching her irrevocably in unbelievable agony.

No. It wouldn’t do. It was all connected. She could not separate herself from what had happened the day before.

In an instant, a violent flash of memory overcame her, and she saw the hand cart flying upended through the air, ringed in flame and acrid smoke.

Evin gave a deep sob and brought a hand to her mouth. Her ribs hurt.

A blurry face hovered near her bed, and someone placed a hand over hers. “She’s awake,” said someone. A woman.

There were other people in the room as well. She was aware of them standing about, watching her. She heard the sound of water pouring into a cup and footsteps moving toward her bed.

Evin closed her eyes and errant tears hit her cheeks. Couldn’t they see she wanted to be left alone?

“Come,” said the woman. The clay mug was held to her lips, and gentle hands tipped it toward her so she could drink.

Her lips were cracked. And the water tasted strange on her tongue and throat. It was hard to sip water when you were crying. After she swallowed, Evin croaked, “Please go away. Thank you for your help, but please go.”

“You’re ill,” said the woman.

She was ill. She’d crept over to the inn just a few bells ago, begging Wynn for breakfast.

And the true pain finally hit.

She thought it had hurt before, but this—this was like a punch in the stomach, and Evin sat forward in her bed from the impact. Her face crumpled, brows knit tightly together, and she cried.

She cried for what felt like hours. Her shoulders shook. Ropes of liquid dripped from her mouth, her nose, her eyes. She buried her face in her hands and moaned. Such pain. Such pain.

All the while, the gentle hand stayed steadily on her back, anchoring her.

Someone gave her clean cloths with which to wipe her face, and occasionally someone else tried to ply her with water.

When she had exhausted herself, she fell into sleep once more.

The fever lasted for three days, not that Evin was even cognizant of time or space. She grew hot and dry and then clammy and cold by turns, and she remembered crying in her sleep.

Finally, she opened her eyes one morning and looked straight up into a man’s face.

She jumped, and he put a hand on her arm. “Shhhh,” he said comfortingly. “You’re safe.”

Evin squinted. The man looked familiar. He had deep brown skin and a wide mouth with straight, white teeth.

“She’s up,” he said, turning away from her.

A figure approached the bed. It was another man, tall and very young—perhaps a boy… No, not with those eyelashes. A woman? With a pair of ears like that? How confusing.

Whoever it was, they placed a cool hand over Evin’s, and the fingers were long and elegant, much like Wynn’s had been. They leaned over and gazed into her eyes, murmuring, “The fever is gone,” and the voice was soft, warm, and unmistakably female.

Evin stared back into the androgynous face. She felt nothing. She was neither scared, nor angry, nor even curious.

“How long before she is ready to travel?” the man asked. He had a gentle South Urdan accent and a strong, deep voice.

A third voice chimed in from elsewhere in the room. “Not for a few more days, I’d guess,” it said, “and certainly not as early as tomorrow. She’s too weak. I’ve not seen one her age as ill as that before.”

“Heart-wounds take longer to heal,” said the woman simply, still searching Evin’s face.

There was a short silence.

“Are you sure she’s the right one?” asked that third voice. “Seems a bit simple to me.”

Evin allowed her aching eyes to fall in the direction of the sound and she spied a red-haired, red-bearded man sitting the wrong way in a chair near the door to her bedroom. Two of the legs hovered off the floor as he rocked absently in it.

“Don’t do that,” she said, her voice so hoarse it was nearly unrecognizable.

The strangers were surprised. “What was that, little one?” asked the man with the deep, chocolate coloured skin.

Evin swallowed and tried to wet her dry lips. Her voice sounded—flaky. “I said, don’t do that,” she said, nodding at the bearded man. “It’s not good for the chair.”

The South Urdan man smiled, and the ginger man stopped, holding up both hands as if in surrender.

“I would like,” Evin said wearily, “to go back to sleep. If I’m not dreaming you, could you all please just go away?”

“We will let you sleep,” said the woman. “But we need to talk first. Look at me.”

Evin did so. The voice was so feminine, but the stranger’s hair was cut like a man’s, and the features were thin and angular. Without thinking, Evin blurted raspily, “Are you a man or a woman?”

“A woman,” the stranger replied evenly. “My name is Craix. Do you know who you are?”

“Who I am?” Evin asked.

“Yes.”

She shifted slightly in the bed, suddenly aware of how matted her long hair was. “My name is Evin—Sacande.”

The woman looked over at the other two.

“Before the accident,” said the South Urdan man gently, “Did you work at a potions shop called the Wheel and Well?”

“Yes,” whispered Evin, chilled by it. Haunted.

“Very well,” the man replied. “Do you remember serving me there some time ago?”

That’s where she had seen him. He’d been a customer at the shop. He’d ordered—what had he ordered? He had insulted her—no, he had complimented her. He told her—

“I was very impressed with you,” the man said.

Evin watched him.

“My name is Tadyath,” he said.

“Tadyath,” she repeated. Suddenly, she remembered. “You told me I should train formally,” she said.

He nodded encouragingly, but Evin’s face darkened.

“I don’t know who you think I am, but I don’t wish to attend university,” she insisted. “So don’t recruit me. And I cannot entertain any strangers just now. I’m not well, so just please go away!”

The South Urdan shook his head. “Shhhh,” he said gently. “Not now. We can talk about university later.”

“I told you—” Evin began, angry now.

“I’m Himes,” said the man with the red beard abruptly. “Pleased to meet you.”

An uneasy silence fell over the room, and Evin started up suddenly in alarm. “What are you doing here?” she demanded suspiciously of them all, as if just noticing the incongruity of these three strangers in her private quarters. “Why are you all in my room?”

Craix knelt by the bed and looked up earnestly at her. “The explosion,” she said. “You were unwell. Alone. We wanted to help.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re important,” replied Tadyath.

“That’s trench fodder,” Evin said angrily. “I’m no one. And now I have no one, and no place in this world.” Her eyes welled and threatened to spill over and her voice shook. “I don’t know what you think you’ll get from me, but you can shove off because I have no money and no connections.”

The three strangers exchanged glances with one another.

“And it would be just like Calumn,” she continued, “to rob me of everything I have, allow me to survive, and then send a group of thugs to kill me.” She’d begun to cry again. “So if you’re going to murder me, you may as well do it.”

“No one’s going to murder you, girl,” Himes assured her.

And Evin broke into deep sobs that shook her shoulders and wailed, “What if I want you to?”

They let her be, and she cried herself out and fell asleep again.

The next time she woke, it was to the smell of cooked meat, onions, and warm bread.

Evin sat up slowly and dizzily. Her fever must have burned itself out, for there was an emptiness to her, a lightness.

The persistent scent of food called attention to the claws of hunger in her gut and she realized that she was ravenous. She couldn’t recall the taste of food. Had she ever eaten? Or was she a creature of light and shadow that managed to float from place to place in this horrible world? She squinted weakly about herself, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

Craix was watching her. The woman held a plate of food in one hand and was busy placing delicious-looking morsels into her own mouth, eyes still fixed on Evin.

Evin’s stomach pitched.

“Hungry?” asked Craix.

She nodded.

“Himes, bring a plate,” the woman directed.

Evin felt faint with hunger, and imagined the thin wall of her back pulling in to meet her own diaphragm. Her hair hung around her face in tangles, and her skin felt greasy from sleep.

“What day is it?” she asked Craix.

Tadyath answered with authority, seeming to grow up out of the floor in front of her. “It’s the second day of Melia. The tenth bell just rang.”

Did this strange group of people have nothing better to do than camp out in her room and watch her sleep? It was downright unsettling. And who were they, anyway?

“Are you all just waiting in my room day after day?” she asked, still disoriented. “Have any of you left at all?”

“We took rooms in the same boarding house,” explained Tadyath. “I wanted eyes on you at all times. It’s crucial that you improve, and quickly. We can’t leave without you.”

Evin took this in, then dismissed it as nonsense. She opened her mouth to argue, but then the man called Himes put a plate of food into her hands, and her consciousness was waylaid.

Food.

She allowed herself to smell it. Chicken, roasted and salted, and fresh bread, and stewed onions, soft and pungent and translucent, had all been chopped into small pieces so she could ingest them easily. Evin picked up the pieces with her fingers and began to eat.

“You look better,” remarked Craix.

Evin didn’t answer her.

Over the next few hours, the motley group seemed to filter in and out, but they never left her completely alone. She wondered more than once if she was simply hallucinating the lot of them. Or if she’d died days ago and was mingling with a bunch of ghostly new friends.

At one point, Himes shook a dozing Evin gently by the shoulder to rouse her. “Little miss,” he said. “You have a visitor.”

Evin frowned sleepily. When would they understand that she wasn’t human anymore and didn’t care for people?

Then her door swung open slowly, and someone hesitantly advanced toward her bed.

She looked up.

It was Stacia.

The woman looked utterly stricken. Pale, wan, frightened, and very small somehow.

She took the width of the room in two steps and was at Evin’s side immediately, embracing her tightly. The two women clutched at each other, and Evin could feel teardrops from her former employer touching down on the backsides of her shoulders. They stayed like this for some time, and eventually Evin grew aware that her odd new guardians had slowly melted away and left the room, giving them some privacy.

The two pulled back and searched each other’s faces.

“You’re alive,” Evin said stupidly.

“You’re alive,” said Stacia. “You were supposed to be at the shop that day. I was so worried.”

Evin nodded. “I was late, as usual. It saved my life, I suppose. What in Divines even happened?”

“We were attacked,” explained Stacia helplessly. Then her face darkened in heartbroken rage. “Someone came to my shop with a suicide slinger. They detonated incendiary martial materials.” Her voice quivered and her hands shook. It was hard for Evin to watch, but she kept her eyes on the master alchemist. “The shop is gone,” Stacia continued. “All of my inventory—gone. And I heard about your sister. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

Evin felt her own face crumple as she clutched at her master again. The older woman smelled of lady’s grace, which was comforting—but there was a marked element of charred things underneath it all that jangled wrongly against her senses. “Thank you,” she whispered between the sobs. Stacia cried with her.

Almost not wanting to hear the answer, Evin whispered, “Who else? Who was inside?”

Stacia sounded sickened. “I was there,” she said. “I had just stepped out to get more supplies. I left Tak there minding the store.”

Tak.

“Is he…?” Evin asked.

Stacia nodded brokenly. “Yes.”

“Oh, no.”

They hugged each other tightly and a few more bright drops fell down onto the faded blankets.

“I heard you were ill,” Stacia said, right by her ear. “Are you healing?”

“It’s hard,” Evin sighed, pulling back once more and wiping under her eyes with trembling fingers. “I haven’t asked anyone, but I think I’ve broken a couple of ribs. The rest are bruises and abrasions, but I don’t really see the point in healing.”

Stacia regarded her. “I understand,” she said. “I do. But that’s not an acceptable way for you to operate. There is more to accomplish. There are more things to experience.”

Evin shrugged. “The Wheel and Well was all I had,” she remarked. “I made a living because you were in business. And now I have no family in Liminey. I don’t suppose you’re going to rebuild?”

The older woman shook her head. “I’m not destitute, but I don’t have the money to recover the shop,” she replied. “I can’t come back from this. I’ve decided to leave the city and move back in with my parents in Beechton.”

“You’re moving to Beechton?”

Stacia nodded.

“When?”

“Almost immediately,” the woman replied. “I came to say goodbye.”

Evin nodded glumly, then looked up at her. “What is happening to the world? Why us?”

Master Stacia was sober. “I don’t know,” she said, and seemed far away for a time. “There are forces at work here that I don’t understand.” She looked down at their still clasped hands. “Which reminds me, I need to say something to you.”

“Alright.”

“I assume by now you’ve become familiar Tadyath and the others.”

Evin shrugged and peered over Stacia’s shoulder to see if her new friends were hovering nearby. But the hall was empty.

“I know this is all very strange,” Stacia continued, “but I want to encourage you to trust them.”

“Why? Do you know these people?”

“Only a little, but we’ve been talking. Tadyath explained to me what they’re trying to do.”

“Which is…?”
“Himes is a recruiter. They want to try to get you into Craestor.”

Evin frowned. “The university?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Stacia. “He believes they can groom you and then convince those in power at the school to take you on as a scholarship applicant.”

Evin was growing testy now. “I don’t believe any school will want to invest in me,” she said pointedly. I’m no one. I’m not worth the investment. And my life has just been ruined. “And after all I’ve been through, not one person has bothered to ask me what I want!”

“And what do you want?” asked Stacia.

Evin grew silent. She opened her mouth to answer, but no answer came.

“You have nowhere else to go,” insisted Master Stacia gently. “I wish I could take you with me, but I can’t. And I don’t have work for you. It’s true that you’re talented. If a high-quality education is possible for you, why would you reject it?”

Evin looked away, frustrated.

“Please consider it,” Stacia said quietly. “It would ease my mind greatly to know that you were being taken care of. All of a sudden, it’s very dangerous to be a practicing brewer, and I don’t understand why. If you intend to continue on in this career, you’ll need protection. I believe they,” and here Stacia cocked her head toward the open door, “might be able to help you.”

Evin listened, then nodded. “I’ll think about it,” she said resignedly.

“Good.”

Stacia sat with her for a few more moments before the two said their goodbyes.

Once her former employer had left and the door to her room had closed, Evin felt dizzy, as though she were trying to balance on a piece of taut string rigged high up in the air.

She was finally, and very truly, alone.

A few days later, Evin followed Tadyath, Craix and Himes to a pub down the street. She had specifically asked to eat at a place she’d never been before, which was difficult as she’d grown up in Liminey.

Her ribs were still sore, and the deep, wine-red bruises in her leg muscles caused her to limp. They were all patient with her, slowing to accommodate her pace. For the first time in weeks, the sun shone down on the city, and the refreshing breeze held not a whiff of damp.

One they’d reached Meg’s, Tadyath held the door for the others and they filed in, allowing their eyes to adjust to the dim interior.

Meg’s was a medium-sized tavern rumored to have excellent food and only one type of ale. For this group’s purposes, that was fine.

Evin was sullen as the four of them chose a table in the corner, and she held her breath as she sat down. Divines, she thought. Every move I make is agony! Is this what old people feel like? And then, with a grim smile, No. I bet they feel a little better than this.

Tadyath leaned forward, facing Evin purposefully. “Now,” he said.

“Now,” she hurled back mockingly.

Himes sniffed and looked away in exasperation.

“I think you’re well enough now that I can speak to you as I would an adult,” Tadyath said.

“I am an adult.” Her voice sounded nasty, meaner than she had intended it to.

If there was a reaction, he’d schooled his face perfectly to hide it. “You cannot be more than seventeen summers,” he said in response. “But for your age, and even for someone grieving, you are being astoundingly rude.”

Evin’s mouth snapped shut.

“You’ve been quite unwell, and I understand that you’re experiencing a lot emotionally. But I need you to bear with me. You’ve been shut in that room for much more than a week, and I thought you could use some fresh air and perspective. We have brought you here to buy you lunch and talk with you. If you would rather we not pay for your lunch, you have but to say so.”

She dropped her eyes and set her jaw.

“Now,” Tadyath said, beginning anew. “I have a proposal for you, of which you have most likely already been made aware,” he went on. “Craix, Himes and I are here to protect and help you.”

Evin looked up at him out of hollow eyes. “I don’t know you,” she said. “You’re a bunch of strangers.”

“We don’t have to be,” said Craix quietly and a little reproachfully.

“If I’m not mistaken, you’re out of a job,” said Tadyath.

Evin nodded.

“And now,” he added, “you have no family in the city to fall back on.”

Her lip quivered a little. That was true. Oh, how true that was.

“We would like to escort you north to Craestor University, where you will apply for a scholarship and enroll as a full-time student of alchemy,” he said. “It is roughly a four-day journey, but each of us has plenty of experience traveling long distances.”

Stacia had told her to expect this, but still her heart pounded wildly at the thought of leaving her home.

“It is not my intention to force you into something you don’t want to do. Look at me.”

Evin did so.

Tadyath’s face was very serious. His thick locks had tumbled down over his broad shoulders, and he placed strong brown hands palms down on the table before himself to demonstrate his sincerity. “I need you to hear this,” he said. “You see what is happening right now—? This does not happen in life. In life, no one will beg you to accept free help and an education. No one will come to you and say, ‘Please! Please try to live and work and thrive and be well!’”

Craix was staring down at the tabletop and nodding to herself.

“In fact,” Tadyath went on, “the opposite will happen. The world does not need you. The world will get in the way of you and your happiness. It will rob you. Cheat you. It will beat you down. Even if you have inexhaustible drive and energy to succeed, you will still find surviving a challenge.”

The tears had begun to rise in her eyes again. She was so very tired of crying. How did she have any liquid still left in her body?

“Sometimes,” Tadyath said, “accepting help is crucial and necessary.” A silence fell over the group as he allowed this to sink in. When he spoke again, it made her jump. “Little one,” he said, softly this time, “I have said to you some hard things. You are allowed to decline this offer, but you must understand that if you do that, you will be alone. And unless chance intervenes, you will remain that way—alone.”

There was another short silence, and then Evin heard her own voice asking, “What do you want in return? What am I to do to compensate you? I have no money.”

This time, Himes spoke up. “We want you to go to school,” he said. “Succeed. Learn everything you can about alchemy—and then keep the art alive. Believe it or not, that is enough for us.”

“But who pays you?” Evin asked them. “Is this just something you do? How do you survive?”

“That, I cannot permit you to know,” replied Tadyath. “But I will echo Himes and say to you that we take an active interest in your success.”

Craix nodded silently.

Evin shook her head in incredulity. The lot of them were intimidating. Mysterious. More than a little suspicious. And when they weren’t regarding her with approval, they looked downright dangerous. “Who even are you all?” she cried.

“Come with us,” said Craix. “And find out.”