Chapter 3 – "Art"
-
Art showed me around the building that day, something Jukuna already did, but he insisted to do so in more detail. He didn't seem to have any pressing matters to attend to, and I myself had nothing that I had to do.
Somehow, it was the late in the afternoon by the time we crossed guildhall again. Sweet, the green-eyed strawberry blonde, was waiting with her arms crossed next to the door leading to Jukuna's study.
Art saluted her and asked, "Reporting?"
"Leader's in there with Ice," the dark-clothed woman offered as a way of explanation.
I should've left then. But I remained because Art remained. I felt his presence at my back like an invisible barrier which urged me to stay where I was.
We did not have long to wait.
Ice slipped out of Jukuna's study silently, leaving the door ajar. He bowed his head to Sweet, strands of his pale bangs falling into his eyes. Sweet returned the nod and straightened, moving past him to enter the study.
"Art," Ice observed, casually addressing the other man. "Were you waiting to speak with me?" he asked, one eyebrow rose in question.
Art got straight to his point. "What did he say to you?"
Ice said nothing. He had quite the expressive eyes, though.
I heard my name being called unexpectedly. "Rusalka," Sweet told me, coming back through the door. "Jukuna would like to speak with you now."
Before I went in, I saw her shrug apologetically to the two. I suspect she thought she ought to have informed the leader that Ice and Art were left outside with me. Maybe their disputes were well-known by the other members. I could only guess.
I did lock eyes with Ice over her shoulder, however.
I needn't have wondered why he was dubbed 'Ice' by the others.
"I did not call you in to chide you, Rusalka," Jukuna made that clear at once. "However, what took place here today during my absence concerns me." He motioned for me to take a seat across from him. I did so.
"I would've preferred for you to not have gotten near the others, but that can't be helped."
He got up from his high-backed chair, placing his hands on his desk as he studied me carefully.
"Has-…any of them made you uncomfortable in any way?"
I blinked once and – to the best of my knowledge – displayed nothing on my face. The truth was that I was probably as uncomfortable around them as they were of me. For different reasons.
"No," I replied. I did not know how else to handle it.
He seemed to mull over this. I counted the number of swings on the grandfather clock before he finally spoke again.
"I have decided to assign you a trainer, Rusalka."
Jukuna sat back down, contemplating with his lips resting against clasped hands.
"Karma would have been the wisest choice," he admitted, "however I have sent him to collect some information outside of town last week, and he'll not return a week hence. Siren and Sweet, I have a mission to assign them after she gives me her report."
He paused. "That only leaves Ice who can be in charge of the training I have in mind for you."
Ice.
It occurred to me that he was waiting for some sort of response. I didn't know how to.
"Will you be fine with that arrangement?" Jukuna questioned me.
"Yes," I told him.
What else could I have done?
-
The three were still there when I went back out. I nodded to Sweet, signifying that Jukuna would like to see her. She went in without a word or a backwards glance.
Both men were still, waiting for me to speak. Art was half-sitting, half-leaning against the windowsill. Ice was leaning against a pillar in the interior of the hall, with his arms folded neatly in front of him.
I looked at Ice for a long moment. I was supposed to tell him. I was supposed to tell him Jukuna's decision, but I didn't. I don't know why.
Instead I went to Art, stopping at a suitable distance from where he sat, and asked him to escort me back to my room. Jukuna's and mine.
He did so, cheerfully. I've never met anyone who could seem so comfortable around me. Along the way he asked me all sorts of questions; how my hair was so perfect, what was life like in a circus, if I had any relations, if I've been affected by the Wars. To all of which I smiled with my eyes and said nothing. It didn't seem to bother him, however. He just kept telling me bits and pieces of himself and throwing me a question, to which I had no answer, here and there.
I found him pleasant to be around.
-
At the door, I bid him goodbye. He saw my hesitation, though I don't think he could guess the reason.
"If you ever need me, you can come find me," Art told me. "You know where my room is."
I needn't have worried so much. Not even Ice would be bold enough to do something which would've caused me to speak up to Jukuna. Which doesn't mean that he didn't have ways to get around that.
Anyway. That evening, when I returned to my room, I picked up Jukuna's journal from his writing table by his bedside. It was the last one, the latest one, the one I had been flipping through when Ice encountered me in that room.
Majesta.
The name drew me to it. Calmly I flipped to the same page that I've first seen the name. Turning the page, I found blank after blank page. I knew the trick.
Lighting a candlestick, I raised the blank page in front of the light. Scrawling words written with the same hand as the rest of the pages came into full view.
They were lists. Names. Dates. Numbers. I did not know what they meant, but I could guess what they were recorded for.
Jukuna was keeping account of Majesta's activities.
I went back and forth between the pages. I did not know what exactly I was looking for. My fingers came to rest on a page which was not a list, but one with a paragraph filling half the space.
This is what I read.
'Majesta, a 'ghost' circus which suddenly surfaced in Rune Migaard approximately six years after the Wars. More alarming than the fact that it had been never heard or seen prior to that is the observation that Majesta is seemingly headed by a single young prodigy by the name of Sethron, a-…' Here my thoughts slowed down considerably. '…a High Wizard.'
-
You might think that meant something to me because I knew that wizards were near-extinct by then. I didn't.
One time back at the Green Deviruchi, my friend asked me how is it that I was able to read. I was surprised. It never occurred to me that there were people who couldn't read. After all, why would there be signs and posted schedules if people couldn't recognize what they said?
She explained to me in the breathy, baritone voice of hers. "No, Ghost. We were not born with the ability to speak or recognize signs. We learn."
I looked at her strangely. I suppose I understood what she said. And at the same time didn't understand what she said.
How is it that I could speak and read, then?
My friend helped me with that.
"I suppose someone taught you before you came here," she told me. "You were already almost grown up when you've been sold into this circus. Perhaps the lad who came with you ought to know something, if only a little. You and him were close."
She was referring to Galasyian, I was sure. I wasn't sure what she meant by closeness. I don't recall much of him; he left the Green Deviruchi in the early days. I thought I would never see him again.
I told her as such.
I don't know if she believed me.
"Well," she mused, "do you have any idea how you lost your memory?"
No.
Was it important to have memories, anyway?
"Uhm…" She scratched her head and thought about it. "You remember things from your past. And I've always heard that it's your past that defines who you are as a person. Also, you remember people who were important to you, and you can tell how important they were by how long you remember them for… The chances are, you were important to them, too."
-
…
Will you remember me?
Will anyone?
If I left, and no one remembered…
…Did I ever exist at all?
…
…I want to remain in your memory, forever…
…
-
"If my memory is gone, does that mean I'll never get it back?" I asked her.
She chewed on her lower lip as she thought. It was a habit of hers.
"I don't know if a healer can cut it. They can't always fix anything of the mind. Maybe magic. If you ever meet a wizard."
"But do not despair, Ghost," she added. "You can always ask a good priest to pray for you. That might work, too."
I nodded in acknowledgement.
-
The next morning, I waited at the kitchen table for Art to appear. Queen didn't seem to let my presence disturb her, though she did toss me many a curious glances and asked me if something was wrong.
I smiled with my eyes, and shook my head.
When Art did enter the room, toweling off his damp, long hair, his long overcoat disheveled and open at the top, he didn't seem surprised to see me. I stood up when I saw him.
"Were you waiting for me, Rusalka?" he greeted pleasantly.
"Yes," I replied.
He nodded and told me, "I shall return presently."
"How do you do it?" Queen came around and asked me as soon as he was out of sight.
I looked at her questioningly.
"I've known him for two years and I still can't help but to avert my eyes when he looks at me." She winked. "As far as I know, that's better than blushing when he speaks to me, like what the other two does."
Queen gazed at me with what looked like a mix of envy and admiration. "Yet you don't seem affected by his charm at all. Is he not the best looking man you've ever seen? There's a reason why we nicknamed him Divine Art, you know."
I wasn't sure I understood what she meant. I often had strangers, especially female ones, averting my eyes when they see me. Other times they would forget what they were doing and stare in a stupor of something like a cross between shock and disgust. Did that mean I am good looking?
During that time I was kept in a cage, I had many a parent snatch their child's arm away when they attempted to touch me. During that time, too, I've observed many people, people who came and went in front of my cage. The only difference I could make out was that some people's faces took longer for my eyes to get adjusted to. That was all it came down to; getting used to someone's appearance, and to be able to remember how they looked like, wasn't it?
My friend, who had occupied the cage next to mine; people behaved the same towards her. Did that mean she was good looking, too?
I was tempted to ask Queen that.
I didn't get a chance to piece together a sensible question. Art came back into the room.
He had his hair combed, the soft loose strands at front reaching down to his elbows. The sunlight through the open doorway lit the thin, pastel strands into a shade of brilliant orange-gold. He had changed into tidy clothes, a delicately embroidered white blouse. His black pants made his legs look long and slender underneath.
"Am I interrupting?" he asked good naturedly, glancing from me to Queen, who snapped out of her trance and shook her head with a grin.
"Oh, no. She's all yours," Queen told him.
Art laughed simply, care freely. His light blue eyes turned to me and he smiled easily.
"You have something to say to me. Come."
I followed him down the path through the garden, again. I enjoyed the morning scenery. He didn't seem to be in a hurry to know what I needed, either.
Alas, I kept quiet and matched his pace until he stopped and turned to me.
"What is it?" he questioned softly, "Has Ice done anything which has made you uncomfortable?"
I shook my head.
"Art…" I gazed up into his eyes. "I want to remember my past. Can I beseech you to say me a prayer?"
He lowered his eyes, his dark, long eyelashes shielding them from sight.
"Rusalka…"
Art was silent. A heavy pause.
"I do not know if He will answer me. I left His company three years past. I have neither entered a church nor prayed since then."
I was curious. He was referring to the thing called 'religion', I was sure. I remember having heard a religion was finding a purpose to existence, or something. I did not understand.
"Who is 'He'?" I asked.
Art smiled tenderly and looked up towards the sky. "He is God," he replied simply.
Imagine my confusion.
"Then…God is your religion?" I puzzled out loud with a small frown.
When I looked back down from the blank blue sky, I saw him staring down the path with a faraway look.
"I don't know…anymore," Art answered. "A lot has changed after the Wars. I left the Church as a result of all those complications."
I felt hollowness at his words. I don't know why.
"A friend once told me…finding the key to my past is the first step to finding out who I am, something all human beings have to struggle with. I've heard that…a religion is the meaning of why we exist. Then…"
I wasn't sure if I was making any sense to myself.
"I exist…to find my past…to find out who I am…so I can be sure I am human…"
He looked at me in mild surprise. Of course, he wouldn't know how it was back at the circus. I had my reasons to doubt.
"Then…my religion is…to be human?"
I wasn't sure if I had offended him. He bowed his head and I didn't want to be rude, so I looked away.
But when he looked back up he was smiling. It was a small, sad smile, but a genuine one nonetheless. His eyes shone with words which he did not speak out, for the only thing he said out loud was a gentle, "Thank you."
I did not understand what he meant. But there was something there not meant to expressed by words. At that moment, he meant my everything.
-
…
…Art…
I still can't believe-...
...Why did it have to be him...?
…
-
Art closed his eyes and tilted his face upwards, letting the sun shine down on him. Finally, he spoke. "If I can, I will do as you requested, Rusalka. If you will wait a little while for me."
He looked down at me for my response. I bowed my head in gratitude.
It was the sound of approaching footsteps which caused us both turn to the newcomer.
Sweet, in her new set of dark traveling garb, bowed respectfully to Art before placing her hands on her hips skeptically. "You're planning to leave in that?" she asked incredulously. "Come on, it's almost time to go."
He nodded his acknowledgement and beckoned for her to leave us alone for a moment longer.
"Will you wait for me, Rusalka?" Art asked me gently.
I hesitated in my response. I wasn't sure what he meant.
"Where are you going?" I had asked, curious.
He gave me a smile, a sheepish, apologetic smile, and replied,
"…Majesta…"