Chapter 27: Trades

Chapter 27: Trades

Ber, Day 16 of Melia

Winking Moons

Year 602

I’ve come to learn that women are dangerous.

If you pack enough hurts and wrongs and abuse onto a woman’s spirit, yes—she will break.

And then she will grow. She will morph and stretch and shoot her power up into Calumn’s sky, and then her fury will rain on those who have wronged her like so many scalding drops of molten lead. I’ve come to learn that women can change the whole course of history.

And the same strong, supportive hands that nursed us, fed us, and tended our wounds

may grow hard and cold with steel veins and iron bones. Treat women as equals, or else beware.

—From the private journals of Bricot Camdetch,

Master Alchemist at Craestor University from 600 to 604

When he next awoke, he was astride a lumbering horse and leaning back against a solid, warm body. The motion of travel jostled him painfully, and the sharp agony in the head wrung a helpless little moan from his swollen mouth.

A steady hand clasped his wrist, and someone whispered, “Shhh, it’s alright now,” comfortingly in his ear.

He shook his head slowly from side to side as if to clear it, then winced at the pain the movement continued to awaken in him. The world was rocking slowly around him. He couldn’t seem to make anything hold still.

Ger was confused. What day was it?

“You’re hurt,” a woman’s voice said softly in his ear. “I’m taking you back to the university. Can you speak?”

The landscape seemed to tumble around them. There was a stand of trees to his right—no, they’d passed that already, and the fields full of eborel swayed in the blistering sun. It was so hot…

He leaned away from her to vomit; she continued to hold tightly to him.

The sick splattered harmlessly down into the tall grasses, only slightly splashing the flanks of the bay they rode together. Where had she gotten a horse?

It didn’t matter. He was so tired. He could puzzle it out later.

His eyes fell back and down, back and down, and they ached with it.

“Ger?” she asked carefully. “Stay awake. Can you stay awake for me?”

He didn’t answer, but leaned back against her and sighed. His eyes were so very heavy.

“Ger?”

He slipped back into sleep.

A few hours later—or perhaps it was days—something cool and wet on his forehead roused him and he took in a deep, shuddering breath.

“He’s waking,” he heard a low voice say, and a slight gasp followed.

A warm hand clasped his forearm.

“Ger? Can you hear me?”

His eyes pulled open, almost rusty with fatigue.

It was Farax, looking bruised, tired, and worried. Chancellor Slager peered down at him also, blue eyes anxious. And a third person scuttled about in the background—a university nurse whose name he thought was Tilda.

“Thank the Divines,” Farax breathed, leaning forward to lay her head on his chest. He felt her arms snake around his shoulders as she gave him a gentle hug.

She smelled like summer.

“Bricot brought you back from the dead only weeks ago, and I feared I’d undone his work irrevocably,” she said against his shirt. “How could I face him if we lost you?”

He didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure what she was talking about.

“Master Farax told us all what happened,” Colin added, haunted. “The man has been apprehended and jailed in Craestor proper for the time being. What a terrible thing you nearly witnessed.”

Ger nodded placidly, but the words didn’t make sense.

“Are you hungry?” Farax asked him, sitting up now. “Tilda? Water?”

The middle-aged woman wiped her hands on her apron and nodded, peeling off to leave the room silently.

Ger cast his aching eyes about. He was back in his own room, in his own bed. A nagging thread of worry pulled at him, as if he’d forgotten something very important, but he chose to let it be. Master Farax and Chancellor Slager had come to take care of him, and he would submit to them—be a good patient, he admonished himself.

Soon, a cup of cold water was brought in, and Farax helped him to sit up and take some. It felt wonderful sliding down his parched throat, and instinct kicked in, prompting him to suck at it greedibly, but his teacher held him back. “Slowly,” she said. “You can have all you want—only go slowly. You were hit very hard, and your head is injured. We must be very careful.”

At the word hit, it came back to him. He had been hit. A man had hit him.

A man had…

And then it was all there.

The horror of the attack on the temple. The man who’d attempted to murder everyone in the square. And Farax—

“Farax,” he gasped, lurching up. The cool water spilled down the front of his chest.

“I’m here,” she said, and for the first time, he noticed how exhausted she sounded. If he remembered correctly, she’d sustained a bloody nose and perhaps a broken ankle—and who knew what else?

“What—” he croaked. “Farax—”

“I’m here,” she said again softly. “Everything’s all right.”

He tried to get up out of bed. He had to leave the room—leave the university. He had to warn everyone!

“Shhhh,” she intoned. “Quiet, now. You’re safe. Colin?”

The big man reached out and laid one of his large hands to Ger’s shin. “Rest easy, boy,” he said, his voice rumbling low in his chest. “It’s all over. You were in a fight, and Farax was able to stop the attack—with your assistance, I might add.”

There were tears standing in the master alchemist’s eyes. “I’m so sorry. I didn't mean for you to be drawn into any of that,” she said. “I just saw what was happening and tried to help.”

Ger shook his head slowly from side to side. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“No!” she cried. “You, my friend, have nothing to be sorry about. I got involved. I saw what was happening and felt responsible. I wish you hadn’t been there—that was so dangerous—but without you, the attacker could have come after me again and we’d all be in trouble… thank you,” she said finally. “The temple is fine. Everyone in town is fine. No one died. Not one person died today.”

Those words seemed to function as a balm that finally stilled him. No one had died. That was good.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Your ankle…”

Farax smiled down at him. “I’m fine.”

He looked surreptitiously down over the bedside to where her foot was tucked behind the rung of her chair. It was swathed in bandages, and the skin that showed through was purple and swollen. Beyond her, a wooden crutch rested against the wall beside the door. He had been right—the ankle was most likely broken.

Slowly, he surveyed her face. One under eye was bruised and she had sustained some scratches, but she did appear to be well otherwise.

He let out a sigh and relaxed back into his soft bed, enjoying the feel of crisp bedclothes against his skin.

* * *

Evin couldn’t believe it.

She stopped packing for a moment to squeal happily to herself, dancing about the room. Then she sombered and took a few deep breaths.

Earlier that day, Tadyath had taken her into town, where he’d helped her to purchase a cloth bag that would adequately carry her things. She already had her beat-up traveler’s pack she’d taken with her from Liminey, but a new satchel would ensure that the odd treasures she’d collected while traveling made it to school with her also.

With a critical eye, she studied her rented room. She had always assumed she didn’t own much—but that was until she had to pack it all.

There were her clothes, certainly, and these would fit into her pack.

Tadyath had given her his copy of the game Rivers and Roads, suggesting she might use it to get to know new friends at school. She’d blushed and thanked him, already a bit nervous at the prospect of meeting her fellow students.

Of course, Stacia’s book Arcane Herbs and Their Uses was one of the first things to go into the satchel. She’d also picked up a few potions and brewing materials in town.

Evin had a habit of collecting items that represented important places to her. She had a soft piece of quartz she’d found in the forest outside of Liminey, a pretty quail feather from Utne, and a tiny abandoned bird’s nest that had been lying in the road between Craestor University and Craestor town—ostensibly it had been blown from its place high in the trees by a particularly strong wind. It was perhaps childish to do so, but no one had stopped her, and Tadyath had encouraged her to remember well all the places she had been, both the good and terrible.

Now, she carefully put each of her belongings both useful and trivial into her new satchel before taking a speculative glance about her room. She’d leave today.

During her journey north and while healing from the accident, time had seemed to move so slowly. Now, she didn’t know that she was ready to leave. This place, while transitory, had been comforting. And so had her traveling companions.

Craix was gone now, of course—off to another mysterious destination. But she’d need to say goodbye to Himes—and to Tadyath.

Tears misted her vision over suddenly at the thought. She’d come to regard him almost as an older brother. She’d wanted to get to know him better, but he’d been reluctant to share his mysterious background with her. It had only served to make him even more curious.

Evin blinked away the wetness at the corners of her eyes and squared her shoulders. Then she slung both of her bags up over her left arm. She made the conscious decision not to look back at the silent, empty room as she left and shut the door.

As she reached the stair landing and paused, she looked down into the common room of the Red Dove.

Tadyath stood there waiting for her, meeting her gaze with the most radiant of smiles—teeth brilliantly white against his South Urdan skin. His long, matted locks fell thickly about his wide shoulders and his large, powerful hands hung at his sides. “Ready?” he asked her.

She nodded, glowing. Then, in a frenzy of excitement, she ran down the stairs and leapt into his arms, whooping.

He caught her easily and spun her once, charmed by her girlish enthusiasm. Then he seemed to remember himself and set her carefully down. “All packed?” he asked.

“Yes. Where is Himes?”

This seemed to dampen Tadyath a little. “Himes was called away. He won’t be going with us today.”

Evin’s face fell. “Oh,” she said, disappointed.

“He gives you his best wishes though, and specifically asked me to apologize for his absence,” he added.

She nodded slowly, chewing on her lower lip.

He reached out and tipped her chin up with a brown forefinger. “Looks like it’s just you and me headed to university today, little one. Do you think you can be all right with that?”

She smiled at him wistfully. “Of course I can. I just—I thought—” she struggled for words. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. Only I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye to Himes—and someday I have got to find out what it is you all do!”

They walked to Craestor together, and Evin found it difficult to speak. She kept attempting to take in her surroundings and fix them in her mind—as though she’d never walk from the town to the university again. Belatedly she realized that the only thing about to change about her situation was Tadyath. She had been always in his company for weeks on end. She’d miss his sunny demeanor and constant grin.

Once or twice she took a sidelong glance at him, only to find him deep in thought.

“Where are you headed next?” she ask.

He looked over at her, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“After you leave me at the school,” she pressed. “Where will you travel next?”

Tadyath grinned to himself and looked down at his swiftly moving feet. “I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he said. “But I don’t know.”

Evin eyed him skeptically. “You don’t know? Or you can’t tell me?”

He smiled again. “I don’t know.”

She pursed her lips, but accepted it.

“I’d rather talk about you,” he said. “I’m assuming this will be your first time living and working in an academic setting. Am I correct?”

“You are,” she replied. “My sister gave me most of my schooling at home.”

“What are you most excited about learning?” he asked.

Evin thought for a moment. “I don’t even know what there is to learn.”

“Fair enough.”

After a short pause, she offered, “I heard that the students learn about the Divine Pantheon at Craestor. I think I’d like that.”

He seemed surprised. “I thought you didn’t practice anymore.”

“Oh, I don’t,” she assured him. “But I still find the stories very beautiful.”

Tadyath nodded solemnly, but his eyes sparkled. “Of course.”

“I’m also interested in the combat classes,” she continued. “And I’m ready to be surprised by the potions courses. I do have a servicable knowledge of the craft because I’ve already been in business for myself, but I want to fill in anything I might be missing. I want to be better at what I do.”

“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” Tadyath told her.

The day was bright and warm, but with a cool breeze that rustled the trees and vegetation around them. They passed the archery range first, situated against the treeline, and then they reached the university itself. The four squat towers stood stolidly at the corners of the large building, and some of the masonwork on the mighty walls sported alchemical symbols just as she remembered. For the first time, Evin felt her chest leap with a delighted little thrill. I get to live here, she thought to herself. Starting today, this… is home.

Her arrival was less glamorous, however, and subsisted of a quick conversation with the registrar.

Iva Arnich was curt and thorough, and her forthrightness unseated Evin a bit, but Tadyath smiled and lent a calm to the interaction that she knew she would miss sorely.

As Arnich confirmed Evin’s full tuition scholarship and began to stamp and sign the necessary papers, she felt Tadyath breathe a deep sigh of relief. “Just in time,” he muttered to himself, but when she queried him about it, he merely shook his head and said, “This is nothing that need concern you just now. I’m just exceedingly grateful to the Urdan officials who grant the university monies necessary to do this.”

“You’re grateful?” she cried incredulously. “I’ll never be able to explain what this means to me!”

Arnich laughed at them, a squeaky little sound, and then began to slide documents across the table toward Evin. “If you’ll just sign and date here,” she said.

A few hours later saw Evin installed in her very own bedroom. There was hardly anything to put away, but she and Tadyath carefully unpacked her bags, setting her scant pieces of clothing in the provided bureau. The other odd little pieces they placed about the room where it seemed they were most happily situated.

Evin moved as slowly as she could, making it last.

At one point while reaching up high to place a bottle on a shelf, she became aware of an ache in her lower belly that signaled her oncoming monthlies, and cursed her luck. Now she’d have to be on the lookout for the start of her bleeding, and most likely would weather it completely alone.

Finally, when the last of her things had been unloaded and the bags stowed in the bottom bureau drawer, she and her guardian turned to face each other.

The look in his eyes undid her and she began to weep.

“No, no,” he said gently, pulling her to him. “This is good. All of this is so very good.”

She cried into his soft shirt, her face hot and her heart thudding.

Tadyath continued speaking softly to her over the top of her head. “This is your time to grow, and learn, and change. Don’t fear it. This is exactly where you are supposed to be. Breathe in with me. Yes—that’s it. Now, let it out. Slowly. Good. At this time tomorrow, you’ll already have met some new, wonderful people. You’ll get to eat well—the kitchen here is fantastic. And your courses will be so absorbing, you’ll have no time to think of anything else. I promise!”

“I’ll be all alone,” Evin cried, sniffling.

He laughed kindly. “You will be many things,” he said. “But alone will not be one of them.”

The two of them glanced together at the inside door that connected Evin’s room with someone else’s. Whom it belonged to, she could not tell. Someone who hadn’t arrived yet.

“Your suitemate will likely be as lonely and scared as you are,” Tadyath went on. “And they will need someone to put them at ease. I can’t think of anyone more capable, little one.”

She finally looked up at him, and despite his steady smile, she saw tears shining in his eyes.

“I wish you all luck with your education, Evin Sacande,” he said. “Do not think for one moment that I won’t be back to bother you from time to time. Make us proud, hey?”

She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

* * *

Repht was both delighted and terrified.

Her new home was humongous.

Hodric had helped her move into his manor—Guben Home—earlier that day. It was a gargantuan four-story affair located in Daitak North, just a short walk from the actual capital. She could see the stately towers and drawbridge of Daitak Keep from her bedroom windows.

As servants and porters had graciously loaded and unloaded all of Repht’s things, she’d been greatly embarrassed of her used garden implements, chipped dishes and worn clothes. But her new husband had wisely suggested she think nothing of that and concentrate only on the relocation. They could go through everything and decide what to keep later.

Her husband. She loved the word. It made her feel so safe.

Only a few days after he’d proposed, the two of them had gone to Daitak Keep and been quietly married before a few officials and a handful of Hodric’s friends. She’d been in a state of bliss ever since.

One of her happiest discoveries regarding Guben Home was the plethora of house servants. They were there to dress and groom her, feed her, even entertain her if she was bored.

Instantly, she’d begged to be allowed to soak in the bathing chambers—and scores of houseworkers had happily obliged, plying her with soaps and salts. One middle-aged woman with particularly magical hands had even massaged Repht’s aching shoulders and neck. It had felt so wonderful that she’d cried. The thought that she might live out the rest of her days here under such care was almost too much for her.

Afterward, she’d been snugly wrapped in towels and a generous-sized robe, then shuttled off to her own room.

She looked about the place now, trying not to focus on the incongruities subsisting within. The bed was so large that it could hold several large men, each corner of the four-poster bed nearly touching the soaring ceiling. The linens were crisp and lily-white. And propped up on one of the goose-feather pillows sat a smushed, stained, stuffed cat her father had sewn for her when she was only a child.

Near one of the large windows stood a mammoth set of drawers which held a gilt mirror and several bottles of cosmetics. Hodric kept her extremely well, and Repht could scarcely believe her luck. Only a year before, she’d huddled shivering in her cottage, concerned about staying warm in the winter. She’d had no new clothes and absolutely no cosmetics. She could barely afford the potions that dulled her pain.

Next to the bottles on top of the bureau was one of her own porcelain vases for holding fresh-cut flowers. The antiqued teal of the lacquer was fading and cracking now, and it looked very poor indeed next to Hodric’s wonderful curiosities.

No, they were hers now. Not Hodric’s. She mustn’t keep thinking of it that way.

The first fingers of dusk were beginning to creep up into the manor windows and lengthen the shadows cast by the furniture within.

Repht approached the bureau and picked up one of the tiny vials, eyeing it speculatively.

The liquid inside was a clear, blushing pink, and viscous. There was a slight shimmer to it, and down in the bottom of the reservoir where she could barely pick it out—one of Hodric’s eyelashes. Repht played with the bottle absently for a few moments before uncorking it and quickly downing the contents. She tried not to think of the eyelash, and it was all over in a matter of heartbeats anyway.

Immediately, she felt the change happen.

It was disconcerting shrinking by a half-inch or so, but she was beginning to grow used to it. Her eyes widened slightly, but then stayed that way, and her lips itched a little. She knew they had enlarged a little and deepened in colour. Her fingers lengthened and she felt some of the creases and calluses smooth themselves away.

The first time she’d taken a Glamour potion for Hodric, she’d sat and watched herself change in a mirror. It had frightened her, obviously, and she’d even cried a little, feeling lost and very small.

But she’d taken several now, and had learned that it wasn’t so bad. Her visage in the mirror when under the Glamour didn’t startle her anymore as it once had used to, and Hodric never mentioned the potion to her when she’d grown back into ordinary Repht. Honestly, the transfiguration was so slight, it was difficult to notice if no one pointed it out.

She lay herself luxuriously down on the bed, allowing herself to think briefly of a myth her father had told her when she was little.

It has been said that the Goddess Pikyia—yes, the Goddess of Chastity—was one of the first in our world to utilize the potion known as a Glamour.

Once, beloved, when trees could speak, Pikyia was engaged to be married to Aethe the Sun God.

As you know by now, Aethe was cruelly murdered by one Yad, son of Beili the War God. It was a day of hopelessness and tragedy among the Divine Pantheon, for who then would keep the Heladrithian sun close to the surface of the world to warm mortals, plants, and animals?

Once appropriate rites were observed and it was decided that Calumn, God of the Cosmos, would move the sun through its seasons as best he could, Pikyia settled into her period of mourning.

Other suitors professed rapt interest in her hand, but the Goddess of Chastity would have none of them. And to further declare her undying love for her deceased Aethe, Pikyia did something unusual and unprecedented.

When Aethe had died, she had begged his family for all of his robes and outer raiments. They had hesitantly agreed, not understanding what the young goddess wished to do with them all. But Pikyia brewed a mighty Glamour—the first in the history of the world. And within the Glamour, she included tiny pieces of Aethe’s belongings; things that had touched his skin or that he had found particularly dear.

By drinking the potion, she appeared to the rest of the Pantheon exactly as Aethe would have desired her, for everyone knows that Glamours are consumed to target a specific person, whoever that may be.

And, armed with piles and piles of Aethe’s things, Pikyia continued to brew and drink the Glamour as an homage to her dead love—and has done so ever since. She has never yet emerged from her mourning, and vows she never will. There is no end to the dark for the Goddess of Chastity. Beautiful and alone, she will carry her feelings for Aethe deep in her heart until all time runs out. And her visage will always reflect the Pikyia that her Aethe found most beautiful.

A short little tale, but nonetheless beautiful.

Repht found herself supposing that she’d likely consume her own Glamour until either she or Hodric died. Something about it niggled at her, but she shrugged off her unease. After all, it was a poor price to pay for such wealth and comfort. She smiled to herself and snuggled more deeply into her priceless coverlet.