The Circle Rewoven
chapter one: frayed ends
A/N: I seriously apologize if Pasco's OOC (which I think he is). I don't own Magic Steps, and that's the only book he's in, so it's kind of hard to pick up on Tamora's characterization of him. He's also quite a bit older now, so I'm using that as a pathetic excuse for my interpretation of him.
Leaning against the elaborately carved wooden and glass doors that served as both a barrier and an entrance to the balcony, a young woman morosely crossed her arms and pulled the sun-streaked hair from her eyes, their azure color rivaling that of the cornflowers planted in terracotta pots at opposite ends of the balcony railing. The warm air lay heavy on her skin and pressed down on her lightly gilded face. The ride this morning had been short. Just as well, thought Sandry. I don't want Uncle riding about in this heat, never mind that it's been three years since his heart attack, and he's doing fine. Nevertheless, Sandry hadn't let him have all his duties back, arguing that she needed the practice for when she had a household of her own to manage.
"No sign of them yet?"
Sandry whirled around, her honey-colored braids smacking the glass of the doors. "Uncle, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Instantly she regretted her words and bit her lip. Sandry's uncle, Vedris, the Duke of Emelan, stood on the other side of the doors. His maroon silk shirt and black linen trousers spoke quietly of wealth in their simple but elegant make; Sandry had woven and sewn both, including signs for good health and protection in the stitching. She had considered a design meant to draw love, but the Duke and the world famous dancer Yazmín seemed to be doing fine on their own. The thought broke the cloud above her head and turned the corners of her mouth into a smile.
"I did try knocking," apologized the Duke, "but when there was no reply I deducted you must be out here, enjoying this fine weather." His eyes crinkled in a smile. Sandry stepped into her room and wrinkled her button of a nose, shutting the door again securely.
"You know me too well, Uncle. You knew I was waiting for Tris."
"I did," he admitted. "Which is why I wanted to be the one to tell you she's here." Sandry's eyes flew open; she clapped her hands.
"For how long? Oh, why didn't she tell me?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise." Tris's voice came from the doorway, startling both Sandry and the Duke. The redhead leaned wearily against the frame, rubbing her gray eyes beneath their glinting spectacles.
"Tris!" squealed Sandry. She was beside her friend in a flash, arms wrapped around her in a fierce hug. "When did you get here?"
"A few hours ago," yawned Tris. "Niko and I thought to unpack and tidy up before we did all this fun stuff."
"So you are staying here?" Sandry asked, delighted. While Tris was in Tharios, Sandry had broken the news that no longer would they be allowed to stay in their childhood home, Discipline in Winding Circle Temple in Emelan. Sandry had written to her two foster sisters and foster brother, suggesting the four of them: her, Tris, Daja, and Briar, stay in the Duke's Citadel with her, but Tris and the others had responded strongly against it. "I ain't taking charity from a high and mighty skirt when I got ways to earn my own bread, Duchess," argued Briar. Daja had been slightly more tactful. "I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn't feel comfortable living off of His Grace, thanks all the same." Tris had merely written back with a brisk and irritated, "We'll see."
Tris sniffed. "Didn't I tell you I wasn't? Daja, Briar, and I discussed it, and we decided we'd be better off renting a house." Sandry drew back.
"What?"
The Duke discreetly passed the two girls, now young women. He rested a hand briefly on Tris's plump shoulder. "It's good to see you back, Trisana. Niko is downstairs with tea and a light spread, if you get hungry. I know you must be tired."
Tris smiled, her cool eyes warming. "Thank you, Your Grace." He nodded politely to Tris and left her and Sandry to face each other. Tris sighed.
"So—so you're all going to live together."
"I said that, didn't I?" Tris snapped. She heard a hint of a pout in Sandry's voice. She was hungry, she was thirsty, she needed a shower and bed. The dust from the road irritated her throat and eyes. The last thing she needed was one of Sandry's self-righteous flare-ups.
"What am I supposed to do?"
"The same thing you've been doing since we left. What's wrong with us finding a place to live?"
Sandry's blue eyes flashed with something eerily similar to fire. "Oh, fine. I understand completely. I'm going to sit here, alone, embroidering my life away while you three group together and move on to greater things. After all, what did I do while you were gone? Nothing, obviously. I might as well keep doing nothing. You three can talk about your travels and all the things you learned. I'm not old or mature enough to possibly comprehend you all."
Tris's icy stare met and held with Sandry's burning one. "What are you talking about?"
"I'm talking about you three leaving me all alone! And now you want nothing to do with me!"
"You're the one who told us to go. I think it's a little late to be complaining about it."
"I only said that to make you feel better. What else was I supposed to do, say, 'oh, never mind me, I like being stuck by myself while everyone learns new trades, new cultures'?"
Tris turned. "I'm going to see where Niko is." She impassively made her way down the hall, ignoring Sandry's splutter of rage. Inwardly, she seethed. How dare she expect them to take hand-outs when they were perfectly capable of looking after themselves? Maybe Sandry didn't know what it was like to be shunted from home to home, but Tris needed a solid place to be, somewhere that was her own and couldn't be taken away. Sandry went on about their travels the way Tris's younger cousin Kerin had gushed over sweets. She couldn't see the other side to it; the unpleasant and even horrifying circumstances different countries placed on their people. The Tharian people, Tris had discovered, ostracized the prathmuni, the people who handled the dead. Maybe Sandry hadn't seen anything new, maybe she'd felt bored. At least she'd been safe.
-
"It's been a while, merchant girl."
Tris turned from the mantle top she was dusting. "Long time, Trader," Tris agreed, smiling crookedly. The two met in the middle of the room, Daja towering above Tris. Tentatively, they reached for each other, then hesitated. "Do we hug?" asked Tris.
"I'm not really sure," Daja admitted, white teeth flashing a grin across her chocolate brown skin. She stuck out her hand, and Tris shook it. Relaxing now that the tension had eased, Daja shifted her bags and glanced at the stairway. "One of these rooms mine?"
Tris picked up her dust rag and gestured. "Upstairs, the room to the left. Or, downstairs, the room at the end of the hall and to the right, or the room at the beginning of the hall to the right. The other rooms are for storage, except for the top right room. That one's mine." Daja nodded, and shouldering her bags, climbed the curling staircase. Tris swished her rag under a few glass pieces she had purchased in Tharios, contentedly listening to the receding creaking of the steps. Her peace was abruptly shattered by the ear-aching swing and bang of the front door.
"Oy! There better be a free room for me down here!"
Tris winced. Putting down her cleaning cloth once again, she looked over her shoulder to direct a scowl at Briar.
"Sunny-natured as always, I see." He dropped his bags and kicked them out of the doorway, along the living room wall. "Is there any food?"
"No."
Briar plunked himself on a bench behind the table, by the window. He stared incredulously at the laden table. "Then what's this?"
"It's not for you," Tris said, and slapped him smartly across the back of his head with the rag.
"Whad'you do that for?" growled Briar, rubbing his head.
"Just like a thief, no thought but for what he can take."
Suddenly, a blur whooshed towards her and strong arms hugged her middle briefly. Tris blinked; Briar was seated back at the table, cramming his face.
"I'm happy to see you too," Tris muttered. Her bad mood, Tris noticed with some irritation, had faded. She stormed upstairs, trying to convince her light heart that she didn't actually want her foster brother and sister living around her once again. Half an hour later, Tris was able to revel in her temper again.
"—dare you leave me all alone again to go hide away in the city while I just sit here, doing nothing? Well, you like that, don't you? You just—"
Tris ran downstairs, anger rising like a bubble in her throat. She opened her mouth to release it, then abruptly closed it. A lanky young man with longish chestnut hair tickling the bottoms of his ear lobes stood in front of Briar, hands on his hips, reading a bit of parchment set on the table. He paused time from time to glare at Briar, who stood baffled and a head taller. Tris stood on the landing, hesitant to interrupt this strange scene, until a break in the boy's voice made her snort. He and Briar looked up.
"Hello," the boy said coolly. "You must be Tris."
"How did you—?"
"My lady is not pleased with you as well."
"Who are—?"
"I am Pasco Acalon, of the Acalon harriers. My lady, Sandrilene fa Toren—"
"We know who Sandry is," interrupted Tris. "I don't care anymore who you are, but why are you here? If you're just going to screech at us, you can continue that when we kick you through the door."
Undaunted, Pasco stood his ground, though he didn't quite meet Tris's eyes. "Sandry wanted me to relay a message to Briar," he said more quietly. "She didn't realize he had come back."
"I was going to tell her," Briar said hotly. "I just wanted to give myself a breath or two before she squeezed it out of me." Pasco paused, then picked up his parchment.
"I think you get the gist of it," he said. "But you better visit her. She's waiting."
-
"Stop shoving me. Stop—stop it!"
Daja settled her Trader staff by her side. Briar tried to rub his back, where she had jabbed him. He took a long, shallow breath. Breathed in. Took a deeper one. This is easy, thought Briar. You lived here 'most four years. This is home.
He couldn't do it.
"Briar," Daja said impatiently. "What's wrong with you? The gate's open already."
"You go without me."
"What?"
"What?" Briar echoed Tris. "I just don't feel like going anymore. I don't," he added defensively, when both girls glared at him.
"And what, exactly, are we supposed to tell her?"
"Tell her I'm tired," Briar suggested. "It's the truth anyway." He turned away from the gate to Winding Circle. A bell chimed the hour and gooseflesh rippled his tan arms, despite the humid air. I've gotta get away.
"Where are you going?" yelled Tris.
"I'll see you at home!" Briar called back. No. Not home. But once again, home was gone. He jogged back to the house, the force of his movement bringing cool air to his cheeks as he sped through the summery weather. Briar cursed the decorum that had made him reach for an elegant, silky, sage green tunic instead of a light cotton one. Nobles…just like their clothing, he thought. They give you no comfort. He neared the corner of Curry Walk and Anise Ln. and gathered a burst of energy to make it to the door of the shared house. Why did I run?
Thieves and cowards run.
Briar was no longer a thief—well, not much of one—but when had he become a coward?
It was too soon. The war in Yanjing hadn't left when Briar had. He wondered if the reek of destruction still lay over the Living Circle Temple. He wondered if the roads would ever be washed of red. The humidity and something else—fear sweat—clung to his gold skin. Briar grabbed some spare clothing from his room on the bottom floor and stepped outside again. He headed towards the public baths, mulling over the day's events and pushing thoughts of war away. That boy who had scolded him…he was Sandry's student? He was…more effeminate than he remembered—well, at least from what Sandry had written. That's right, Briar remembered. Long hair is fashionable for young men now. He put up a hand to his own cropped black locks, feeling the short ends with a rueful smile. Suddenly, he dropped his hand like a lead weight, disgusted that he cared about bag things like that.
Briar entered the men's bathhouse. Though the air inside was equally humid, he felt the change of scenery like a breath of fresh air. Briar handed a coin to a young attendant, who led the way to an empty spot in the wide, deep pool. He stripped, handed his clothes to the boy, and waded through the shallow water to the deeper end. Sitting on a seat carved from the side of the wall, he scrubbed the fear off his skin with the scented soap handed to him. The hot water was therapeutic and relaxed the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders. His jaw ached from unconsciously clenching it. Briar closed his eyes, soaking in the smell of sulphur and jasmine. Outside the Living Circle Temple in Yanjing, a flowering jasmine had stood waving at the front door, vines gently arched over the entrance. Swirling on the breeze was the heavy fragrance from its pearly blossoms. It mingled with the smoke the soldiers brought. The sweet, powerful smell fell from the air, entwined with ashes from the burning temple.
Briar choked and began coughing. He wiped his tearing eyes and scanned the room in panic, before remembering where he was. There was no smoke for him to choke on, no ash to dull his hair. He pulled himself out of the pool.
-
Sandry yanked a spool of silk out of her mage kit. She glared and a green thread meekly unwound itself and flowed around Sandry and Pasco in a snug circle. They were sitting in Sandry's sewing room at the Duke's citadel.
"Lady Sandry?" Pasco ventured, just as meekly.
"Yes, Pasco?" Her eyes snapped. An image of the harrier dogs used for criminal work flashed through Pasco's mind and he shivered. Her gaze held teeth in it.
"Never mind, my Lady."
"You're old enough now that I don't need to tell you what to do. We only have time for a fifteen minute session, so I better have fifteen minutes of solid meditation. Understood?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
Pasco snuck another look at her and shook his head. "Never mind." For once, Pasco welcomed the tiresome exercise of meditation. Right now, he'd grope at any excuse to close his eyes and avoid his…his what? Yazmín was his teacher now, as well as Bernice and Fiyell, two advanced students that occasionally took over his lessons when Yazmín was too busy. What was Sandry to him? He slowly cracked open an eyelid.
Sandry sat hugging her knees, her golden brown head resting on top of them. Her face was hidden.
"Lady Sandrilene, are you all right?"
"You're supposed to be meditating, Pasco." Her voice came out muffled but not angry.
"My Lady, it's just one meditation! It doesn't mean anything—not much," Pasco added hastily. "What's bothering you?" To his surprise, Sandry lifted her face and smiled crookedly at him.
"Would you call the summer I met you an exciting one?"
A dark blush found its way to his tan cheeks. "Uh—"
"The Unmagic. The serial murders. Do you think there was a little work involved, or—" Sandry looked down, "do you think it was something anyone could've taken care of?"
"Oh no, my Lady!" Pasco exclaimed. "You've done so much for the harrier-mages. Not to mention you saved my skin." He grinned, and then it faded. "What is this about, anyway?"
"I'm sorry," Sandry murmured. "I didn't mean to fish for compliments. It's just that…you remember my foster brother and sisters?"
"How could I forget? Briar's a pickpocket—"
"Was," Sandry corrected.
"—Tris is the weather witch, and Daja does metal."
"Something like that," Sandry said. "Well, the summer I met you, all three of them left with their mage instructors to different countries, traveling and learning more about their trade and different cultures. I had to stay here in Emelan. They just sailed or rode off without another thought in their heads and got to see all sorts of interesting things," Sandry said wistfully. "They wrote me about once every three or four months, and never asked me what I was doing. After all," Sandry's voice took on a sarcastic tone, "I was just stuck home in Emelan; what could have happened to me? Three years later, they all return here without telling me they're back, rent a house together, and refuse to visit me. Then when I ask them about it, they tell me I should just do the same thing I've been doing since they left!"
Pasco awkwardly reached out and patted her arm. "I know, I sent Briar after you."
"Did you?" Sandry's eyes flashed.
"Yeah, I did. What did he say?"
"Nothing," Sandry cried. "He said nothing because I still haven't seen him!"
Pasco winced. "Bad move, Briar," he said under his breath.
Sandry abruptly snapped her fingers; the green silk spun back upon its spool, and Sandry returned it to her kit. "Lesson's over, Pasco. I have some errands I'd like to run."
Pasco scrambled to his feet and watched Sandry stride purposefully off.
-
A/N: Comment if you like. Chapter Two just has a few sentences to it, so it'll be a little while before I update again. But I promise I will!