novelraw CHAPTER 126 – Tidings
CHAPTER 126 – Tidings
Rarely did Saphienne drink wine.
Although she no longer detested drunkenness as she had in her childhood, she preferred sobriety over intoxication, usually seeking the latter only when she wished escape from suffering that she reasoned to be pointless. Her mother had fallen victim to habitual indulgence, however, and so she was strict about when she allowed herself a glass, having declined to partake with Lynnariel since she had purposefully shed their inhibitions to better their bond. Her last had been the day Laelansa left.
How appropriate, then, that sunset saw her reclining in the tub amid the steam of the bathroom, soaking in the heat with an open bottle on the floor, quietly enjoying a rosy vintage as she hummed to herself.
Chiming in the hall announced a visitor had entered through the kitchen. She paused until she heard familiar footsteps on the stairs, then grinned as she cast Far Hand to open the privacy bolt on the door, sinking lower in the water while her long, unbound hair spilled over the edge and onto the tiled floor.
Knocks with an elaborate rhythm preceded a welcome interruption. “May I enter? Or shall I wait outside?”
“Come in!”
Hyacinth was still unaccustomed to doorhandles, and her grip slipped twice before she managed to open the door, her floral shell slowing as she enjoyed the mists rolling across her petals. The bloomkith’s smile was eerily wide – having not quite learned to mimic a grin with her verdure – as she shut the door. “You are relaxed! Your day went well?”
“Excellently.” She beckoned with her nearly empty glass. “Pour me another?”
Rattling with laughter, Hyacinth slapped across the tiles to crouch down, lifting the bottle and deftly decanting the last of the wine.
“How is it,” Saphienne wondered as she tilted back against the tub, “you struggle with opening doors, but you don’t spill wine?”
“I find the twisting motion unfamiliar.” The spirit sank down on her knees beside the bath, folding her arms along the edge to rest her chin upon them. “Filling your glass is like watering flowers.”
“You’re quite good with my hands…” Saphienne smirked as she sipped.
Hyacinth’s smile was prettier when smaller, especially when her cheeks bloomed with pink blossoms. “That is different yet again. You should thank my elder sisters for such cuttings as did gift those skills, that I am deft within your form.”
“It’s not your sisters I’ve been thinking about all day…” Saphienne batted her eyelids.
Had Hyacinth a throat, she would have choked.
Her master giggled. “I never tire of flustering my flowers…” Then she drained the wineglass, passing it to the bloomkith. “Do you wish to hear very good news?”
“I could soon guess; Laelansa comes to stay.”
Saphienne pouted and flicked water at her. “Ruddles told you, didn’t she?”
Unbothered by the splash, Hyacinth set down the glass then extended a finger to trail along the surface, pretending she wasn’t allured by what dwelled beneath. “Nelathiel. She called for Holly — and then Holly called for me.”
“Spoilsport… I wanted to see your reaction.”
“I shrieked in glee.” Faint white strands grew into the water.
Noticing, Saphienne reached out and casually caressed them. “You’re drinking the water I’m bathing in…”
Hyacinth’s petals became a darker, ardent red. “Have no fear; my blooms by dirt are nourished. ‘Tis good refreshment for this floral gown I wear.”
She studied her with lidded eyes. “You’re not here for refreshment.”
Hyacinth leaned closer. “True… but I would quench other thirsts…”
Ah, but what happened then is not a tale to be told in the daytime.
* * *
They dozed together, eyes yellowed in the bed.
“…Saphienne, we are avoiding what is to come…”
“I’m afraid.”
“As am I — for I must be the one to tell her. You cannot name your nature aloud, not without deceiving wards for which you now lack excuse.”
“You’re good at reading people, Hyacinth. Will she still love me?”
“…She will, but whether Laelansa will accept your truth, I know not. If she cannot… if she should seek help for you, and tell others… we will need to flee the woodlands.”
“I’d be heartbroken.”
“So too my roots would tear. Yet, no matter who may judge you, however harshly, yours I ever shall remain, handmaid to my one and only dragon.”
“…Hyacinth…”
“Saphienne?”
Their last passion of the night was tender.
* * *
They spent the next morning walking together, Saphienne-Hyacinth tranquil and contented as she cleaned the bathroom and undertook other domestic labours in her own company. After a breakfast that was delicious to her heightened senses, she sat with tea in her chair and allowed herself to divide, eyes closed as Saphienne and Hyacinth separated yet remained close, lips moving as they kissed long and amorously on the steps.
Groaning, Saphienne broke away. “…I’ve things to do before she arrives. There’s something I’ve been putting off.”
Hyacinth wound her vines more tightly around the library; the bloomkith found self-control against its edifice. “Alike am I. If there is a chance that we must flee, I must prepare a plan for us. Evading my sisters, the elves, and the Luminary Vale would be no small feat, and cannot be accomplished through recklessness.”
This intrigued the magician. “Didn’t you have a plan to grab me and run, when we freed Tyrnansunna?”
“A desperate plan.” Hyacinth blushed — potent enough that Saphienne’s body mirrored her heat. “Dependent upon my sister aiding us. With her flight as distraction, I would have feigned to flee as wind, then hid myself within a beast and crept back to you unseen, thereby to walk you out, unnoticed in the strife.”
“You think they would have been too busy chasing her to notice?”
The spirit made no attempt to conceal the conflict and shame she felt. “…I would have asked her to wither the woodlands in her departure. Chaos would have covered us.”
Saphienne wondered whether Tyrnansunna would have obliged; her intuition said that she would have done, but only to spare Hyacinth from suffering the imprisonment she’d endured. “Assume that we’ll tell Laelansa at a time conducive to escape; that I’d use my magic to the fullest; that I’d be willing to do anything I must — except kill.”
From the way she sadly smiled, Hyacinth already knew. “Your mother could not join us in her illness; Minina would have to; and if Laelansa were resolved against us immediately, so too would she, until we reached the far side of the protectorate.”
Saphienne blinked. “…You’d possess her. Of course: we’d already be violating the ancient ways. Preventing her from raising the alarm would make things easier.”
“A pilgrimage to the shrine of Our Lady of the Balanced Scales with her, then through the protectorates with stealth and haste. That would be best…” She sighed, and leaned against Saphienne heavily. “…But my fear is that she will not decide at once. Were she to resolve to betray your trust, she would do so later, seeking advice from Mother Marigold on how to mend you.”
Despairing, Saphienne hung her head. “Who is canny, and would take steps to catch us unaware — for our own good.”
They sat together with the fear as storm clouds gathered over field and library.
“…She loves you.” Hyacinth made an effort to hope for the best. “If any other in the woodlands will accept your truth, Laelansa is the most likely. Say that you trust her, and come what will, I will honour your judgement.”
There wasn’t any question in Saphienne’s mind; Laelansa deserved honesty, to be loved fully and without deceit. Had it been possible to have told her before asking her to come to the Eastern Vale, she would have done so. “I…”
Where she sat with her tea, Saphienne’s eyes glimmered.
“…I don’t believe the gods are real, Hyacinth. Do you?”
The bloomkith laughed melodiously as she stroked Saphienne’s chest. “I cannot know for sure, but I tell true: if they exist at all, they live in you. Why ask me this?”
“Because if they were real,” she admitted, dimly comprehending the significance of the bloodstained stone they sat upon as she brushed her fingers across it, “then I’d seek only one mercy from them: that I not break Laelansa’s heart.”
“What of your own, my love? Do you not deserve the same? If you might play at prayer, why not pray for yourself?”
Saphienne shook her head, rising to her feet in the sitting room as she kissed Hyacinth and stood upon the steps. “I know better than to ask for myself… but I’m willing to keep hope for everyone else.”
Hyacinth’s overwhelming compassion spilled a single, shared tear.
She turned and ascended to the library as she wiped her cheek. “Make ready your plans. To Laelansa I entrust my happiness; to you I entrust my freedom.”
* * *
Unwilling to leave unfinished business were she to quit the woodlands, Saphienne elected to handle the worst of it that afternoon.
She was dressed in subdued robes as she stood on the doorstep, having switched back to her old bangle and finger rings and reluctantly transmuted her hair into spring brunette where she wore it in a plain tail. Anxious, she would rather have been anywhere else, but what she owed had been deferred for far too long.
She knocked. Then she waited, alone with her thoughts.
To say this was being done purely for conscience’s sake would be deceiving herself; she’d originally conceived of this intervention while contemplating how to safeguard her reputation from malevolent rumours. Were she less cowardly, she might have acted sooner, but she’d told herself that she needed to spend time out and about in the village – making herself more approachable – before she dared try. She’d rehearsed endlessly in the mirror, then more recently using her mother’s fascinator.
Come to think of it, whatever had happened to the fascinator requested by Thessa after she’d been attacked? No one from the storehouses had come looking for it, which was unusual for loaned enchantments. Had it been returned–
The door opened, and the woman on the other side drew a sharp breath.
Saphienne bowed low. “Hello, Nimerna; my apologies for not visiting sooner, but people were following me everywhere I went; I’m sorry for–”
Syndelle’s mother slammed the door in her face.
That wasn’t the worst response she’d imagined.
Steeling herself, Saphienne knocked again. “We need to talk! I’m here to–”
“You don’t want to talk to me.” Even muffled, Nimerna was unmistakably enraged.
“I do. I tried, but I couldn’t do anything before–”
“You tried?” Her question was sharp; her pause seething; her next words frosty. “Leave us alone: we want nothing to do with you. Go away.”
How she felt was entirely understandable, given what had happened. “I’m not going to leave until we talk. I’m sorry, but Syndelle deserves–”
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Nimerna opened the door.
* * *
Sitting up slowly, Saphienne gingerly touched her swelling jaw. Despite the pain – and tasting blood on her bitten tongue – she concluded it was neither dislocated nor obviously broken, though her teeth felt looser than moments ago, wobbling a little when she tentatively rubbed them through her bruised cheek.
Then she looked up, to where Nimerna stood over her, shaking, ashen with dread.
She worked her clicking jaw before she spoke. “…I’m not going to be pithy. You didn’t intend to do that, did you?”
Nimerna stumbled back and sat on the step.
“I didn’t think so.” Saphienne brushed herself off as she rose. “Can we talk now? Will you hear me out, or do I have to let you hit me again?”
Syndelle’s mother folded her arms as she rekindled her glare. “Just call the wardens.”
“I’m not doing that.” Her tongue felt intact; she ignored the ache in her neck. “If you call them yourself I’ll tell them I provoked you — which I did.”
“I’ve nothing to say to you.”
“That’s fine,” she snapped back–
…Before pausing to smother the anger that roiled in the wake of her shock. “Excuse me. You’ve conveyed how you feel — more than adequately. Do me the courtesy of listening to what I have to tell you.”
Nimerna rose and went back inside, leaving the door open.
Wary at what might ensue, Saphienne quietly cast the defensive ward she’d deliberately chosen not to employ on arrival, sustaining the spell along with the Second Sense with which she’d made certain they were not being surveilled by the wardens. She closed the door behind herself, crossing through a sitting room that was so very much like the one in which she’d played as a child.
In the kitchen, Nimerna was drinking water by the sink.
“If you try to strike me again, you’ll break your hand.” Saphienne pulled a chair out from under the table, sitting and crossing one leg over the other. “I owe you an explanation for what happened to Sy– to your daughter.”
“Sundamar told me.” She stared out the window. “He said one of your wizard friends beat her… and Lensa, and the rest. You made sure you had an alibi.”
Saphienne massaged her twinging shoulder. “He was wrong about most of it. Sundamar was upset because he thought I’d made a fool out of him; we didn’t like each other.” And her contempt for him had worsened since. “That isn’t how it happened. Did he tell you the reason I was working with him?”
Nimerna shrugged. “You manipulated him, like you did me.”
“I didn’t manipulate him, though I did manipulate you.” Her voice was steady. “I knew Syndelle would face justice, and that she wouldn’t be allowed to carry on as if she’d done nothing wrong. I still asked for leniency, for what it’s worth.”
Syndelle’s mother turned to appraise her. “…You’re lying.”
“Ask Alavara for the official record.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I was sincere about the rest — and I didn’t arrange what happened. I approached Sundamar because I was trying to bring them all to justice, before what happened was done to them.”
“Who did it?”
A dragon was fearless. “I can’t tell you. Even were I to tell you, there is no possibility that they would face sanction for what they did to the girls. The Luminary Vale are fully aware, and will not allow the matter to be brought before the consensus. Any attempt to enact justice would be prevented from proceeding.” She fixed Nimerna with an insistent gaze. “If you repeat a word of this to anyone, I’ll deny everything; if you press the issue, I don’t know what will happen to you.”
Uncertainty crept into the mother’s countenance. “…Why believe you?”
“Wizards and sorcerers rule the woodlands.” She leant back. “Everyone knows it. The consensus is guided by elders, but magicians only let them manage the day-to-day. Our society exists the way it does because the Luminary Vale wants it to, for better and for worse.
“Syndelle assaulted an apprentice wizard,” she went on, calmly. “Lensa was just smart enough to attack me in a way that the consensus probably couldn’t punish, but she was foolish enough to think that would be the end of things. How could it be? Everyone knows that magicians are untouchable. If the consensus couldn’t enforce that through normal means, it would still have to be enforced, because there’s a truer law than the ancient ways that must be upheld.”
Nimerna had ceased being angry, frightened by what she heard. “What law?”
“That one way or another, those with power will rule over those without,” Saphienne asserted, unblinking, “and the bargain of the woodlands is that wizards and sorcerers will rule benevolently so long as their benevolence is recognised; magic will provide, so long as everyone respects and defers to the magicians. To reject this is to risk everything unravelling — groups splitting from the Luminary Vale in their discontent, and imposing their individual visions of what’s best.”
“…Then it’s true.” Nimerna sagged against the sink. “Wizards are above the law.”
“No, but only while held in check by their peers, which requires that magicians belong to the same society as everyone else, which requires…”
“…Requires what?”
Disquieted, Saphienne pulled back from an insight she wasn’t ready to confront. “Which requires that their special role be maintained. Syndelle and I, we were both caught up in the consequences of this. When I found out what she was facing if the consensus didn’t convict her, I did everything I could to prevent that happening.” She uncrossed her legs, hunching forward. “I was too late. The way it played out, she ended up being punished twice, and there wasn’t anything I could do to save her. Nor could I do anything to help… not before now.”
Nimerna was no longer as hostile, but nor was she a convert. “We don’t need your help; we don’t want your help.”
“You don’t.” Saphienne stood up. “But what about Syndelle? I’ve asked around; I know she’s been placed under enforced fascination, and she’s been left with an apprenticeship in reclamation because no one else will take her.”
Sullen, Syndelle’s mother had no reply.
“I don’t know what can be done about the fascination…” And – seeing where Syndelle had inherited her temper from – Saphienne wasn’t convinced it was unnecessary. “…Yet I can definitely help with her apprenticeship. Enough people now hold me in esteem that my opinion carries a lot of weight, which means being seen to be friendly with her would oblige she be forgiven.”
“Friendly?” Nimerna’s lip twisted in disgust. “You’re not my daughter’s friend.”
Frustrated, needled by her throbbing skull, Saphienne advanced with an irate hiss. “No one is. Name a single friend she has, Nimerna — name anyone who cares, other than you. Has anyone else offered help? Has anyone done anything, other than stare at her and whisper behind her back?”
Syndelle’s mother paled.
Belatedly remembering that her magic made her anger terrifying, Saphienne softened. “…Sorry. My head hurts: you throw a good punch.”
Nimerna lowered her gaze. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“I’ve had worse–”
They both froze.
Mortified, Saphienne backed away. “…I’ve said all I have to say. Neither you nor Syndelle have to like me — I don’t expect anything in return. Come find me if you decide differently.”
The magician bowed, then went to leave by the back door.
“Syndelle isn’t allowed to talk to you.”
She paused. “Does she want to?”
“She did.” Weariness beyond all measure weighed Nimerna down as she took the seat Saphienne had vacated. “All she wanted to do when she woke up was tell you she was sorry, that she’d never be bad again. Then she was taken away. She hasn’t been the same since they brought her back. She doesn’t laugh like she did.”
“…Fascination against anger can suppress other emotions.”
“I hate you, Saphienne.” She was dispassionate in her judgement. “I hate what you did; I hate that you’re here; I hate that you’re playing with our lives.” She was unconsolable in her pain. “They say you’re a favourite of the gods… you behave like you are one. But a goddess wouldn’t be so callous. A goddess wouldn’t set our lives on fire then walk away.”
Saphienne had folded her arms while listening. “Is that who you think I am?”
“You didn’t come here for Syndelle’s sake.”
She breathed out slowly. “You’re right; I feel guilty…”
Her restraint crumpled.
“…I was traumatised and distrustful; more committed to my principles than to caring for people; too proud to give up on myself, too egotistical to surrender myself, conceited enough to believe I could fix things. I should have went with you and Syndelle to Gaelyn and from there to the wardens, lain everything out in the open. If justice hadn’t followed for anyone but Syndelle, I should have warned the other girls about the retribution I couldn’t prevent, then reconciled myself to being powerless.
“But I didn’t.” She gritted her teeth. “I wouldn’t. And you know what, Nimerna? I was fourteen. No one stepped in to save me from myself — only one person has ever tried, and she was absent when I needed her most… just like you neglected Syndelle.”
Nimerna gasped, flushing as she stood–
“No, I’m not done.” Saphienne felt as though Almon were beside her, his illusory flames burning into her shoulder. “Lensa and Tirisa treated Syndelle like shit, and you either didn’t pay enough attention to notice, or didn’t care enough to do anything about it. You let your daughter run wild in the vale, and she almost killed me. You want to hate me? At least I tried my fucking best. Can you say the same?”
Speechless, she couldn’t say anything.
“I thought not. But we’re both alike in one way, aren’t we? I’m here for my guilt; you’re rejecting me for yours.” Saphienne spun and grabbed the handle, pulled open the door, glanced across her knotting shoulder. “Everyone’s wrong about me being holy — and if not, then you’re wrong about the gods, because from where I stand they don’t seem to care much about our suffering. Tell Syndelle I’m sorry, and that I’ll come see her if she likes.”
She wanted to slam the door; she shut it politely instead.
On her way home, she invoked Hyacinth to heal her injuries, then studied her spellbook in the middle of the grove and made blonde again her trailing braid, tired of pretending she was the same as the elves she lived with.
* * *
Recriminating with herself for how she’d acted, Saphienne asked Hyacinth to locate Nelathiel, changing into more vibrant robes while the spirit went searching. Then she paced in the garden, upset that she hadn’t talons with which to scratch out her ire–
Whereupon she stopped, inspecting the rosy gold she wore on her left hand.
* * *
“Saphienne? Come in! I was wondering if I’d see you today.”
Easing into the cramped room that Nelathiel had taken over in the crafting hall, Saphienne surveyed the disassembled puppets on the bench, gaze drifting over to what initially seemed like more, lined up neat and stringless on a shelf. “…Are those more puppets?”
The priest, hunter, and toymaker laughed as she lifted one down. “They’re dolls; I like making them best. Children love their dolls better than puppets or puzzles or spinning tops. Did you have a doll, when you were little?”
“I didn’t have any toys… just books…” Saphienne caught upon a faint memory of Kylantha, who’d shown her how to spin a hoop around her arm.
“A lot of elders think toys are a distraction,” Nelathiel sighed, setting the redhaired doll on the end of the bench before she resumed embellishing her puppets, “but that’s nonsense. Play is important for learning — that’s why we worship the gods through rituals, which really aren’t very different from organised play. Find somewhere to sit?”
Relinquishing her regrets, Saphienne found a tall stool under sketches of dresses, setting the papers on the floor before she perched and drew back her outer robes’ hood, forcing a smile as she revealed small horns in pale gold.
Nelathiel didn’t notice. “I assume Ruddles told you that I wanted to speak to you?”
“She did. Something about living arrangements?”
“Conditions requested by Wynalia. She wants to be sure that Laelansa will have structure when she comes to live in the Eastern Vale.”
Saphienne sensed her unease. “…Nelathiel, whatever the problem, don’t dance around the issue.”
“Alright.” She set down her needle and thread. “The bad news is– what in the world are you wearing?”
Giggling genuinely, Saphienne tilted her brow. “Do you like them? Laelansa said I looked good with horns, and I was making these finger rings–”
“Claws?” Nelathiel was bemused. “Are you trying to remind everyone of your heroics?”
She felt her mouth drop open — abruptly shut it. “…Would people assume that?”
Nelathiel chuckled, hopping up to sit beside the doll. “Amazing to think that you’re so sharp in some ways, and yet completely oblivious in others. Yes: anyone seeing you dressed like a dragon is going to guess you’re referencing the time you fought one.” She canted her head. “Why are you wearing that?”
Because her elven body depressed her, and she couldn’t risk her figment being spotted… not that she could tell Nelathiel. “My new support lets me use my left hand like my right, but the enchantment needs to be worn on both, and the fingers have to end in points for–” She blushed at the lie, parlaying it into self-consciousness at rambling. “Ah, it’s a little complicated. They don’t match the jewellery Eletha made me, so I decided to craft a belt and headpiece in the same metal… then I was thinking about how Laelansa liked me in horns, and the theme came together.”
The puppeteer was biting her lip.
“Is it really that odd?”
Extending a foot, Nelathiel kicked shut the door. “Saphienne, you’re going to need a much better excuse than that for wearing bedroom attire around the village.”
Saphienne’s pulse quickened. “…Bedroom attire?”
“You don’t have to pretend — lots of people like to dress up.” Her smile was a little distracted as she studied the ceiling. “You’d be amazed how many people like horns…”
“Nelathiel, I’m not– this isn’t–”
“I’m not judging! Horns don’t excite me, but I’ve worn them for other people; there’s more than a few faithful of Our Lord who are highly creative in how they like to worship.”
Saphienne covered her face with her hands. “I didn’t wear these for–”
“You’re trying to tell me you weren’t feeling out how I’d react? That you and Laelansa weren’t getting hot for each other that day we went hunting, and you didn’t come here hoping to finally talk to me about Hyacinth?”
Respectively? Yes, but not consciously, and not in that way; yes, but the horns were incidental; and no, or at least not intentionally. “…What was the bad news?”
Nelathiel’s merriment diminished. “I’ve promised Wynalia that Laelansa will be staying with me until she’s settled in the Eastern Vale.”
She raised her head. “…I see.”
“I’m not going to lie to a fellow priest.” Nelathiel smiled apologetically. “She wanted to be sure her entire life here doesn’t revolve around you. As I’m about to assume responsibility for Laelansa’s upbringing, I’m obliged to honour my predecessor’s request.”
“Does Laelansa know?”
“She’s very disappointed.” Nelathiel shifted. “What I haven’t told Wynalia is that I don’t intend to be quite so strict as I’ve implied. As long as Laelansa spends half her nights in her own bed, I’ll consider my promise upheld… and I’m not going to set a curfew for when she comes home. Nor will I insist she does so without your company.”
Were she not hiding the scaled belt around her waist, Saphienne would have jumped up to hug Nelathiel. “We owe you more than–”
“None of that.” The toymaker waved off her thanks. “What you need to do is make sure that Laelansa has a pastime of her own, unrelated to her novitiate. I don’t care what it is, but she needs to be at least a little social without you.”
“We’ll talk.”
“Good.” Stretching, Nelathiel leant back on her palms, carefully placed among the incomplete pieces. “I’m also supposed to take an active interest in how you two are managing as a couple… I’ll mostly talk to Laelansa for that. However, from what Holly tells me, ‘you two’ are very likely to become ‘you three’ before long.”
She was trapped. “What do you want to know?”
“Other way around.” Nelathiel lowered her naturally husky voice. “I know you and Hyacinth are in love, and that falling for a spirit isn’t common among wizards and sorcerers. You must have questions.”
Pondering the implication, Saphienne raised an eyebrow. “What about priests?”
“Far more so, but still infrequent, and rare among the young.” Nelathiel shifted forward, hands upon her knees as she crossed her ankles. “I’m saying you can ask me personal questions. Whatever you want to know.”
There was another side to preparing for Laelansa, Saphienne realised, and her chest swelled until she felt like she would burst as she contemplated it: the possibility that all would be well, and she could live out her eternity in the woodlands after all, a hidden leviathan who abided in joy.
“…You and Holly…”
“We’re not romantic.” Nelathiel grinned. “We’re more like close friends… who like having sex. Sparing the obvious joke? We’re not possessive.”
She mirrored her posture. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or girlfriend? Does Holly? Do spirits even have relationships among themselves?”
“I don’t, not right now, though there are people we sleep with. I prefer women — but when we’re walking together we like men, too. That was challenging to accept. Holly has close companionships with certain other spirits …”
As Saphienne listened, marvelling at her own interest in what had once repulsed her, the prospect of summertime brightened her eyes.
End of Chapter 126