September 1069
Water in the house was somewhat of a rationed resource. Bringing it in in significant quantities was tedious, if not necessarily difficult, and I needed it for a lot of things: cleaning dishes, potions, drinking, a little bit of icing. Beer with ice was honestly an abomination, but at least it helped counteract alcohol's frustrating tendency to get warm and hot around me. Also, plumbing wasn't a thing. The end result was that I didn't so much have a sink as a suitably large bucket, and that I tended to only clean dishes and tableware only at the end of the day.
The point is that after the now semi-awkward lunch was said and done, I stacked everything in an unoccupied corner of the main table and had everyone move a little closer.
"Alright. There are three general groups of beings that look human and act human, but aren't exactly human, to one degree or another. Those are scions, shapeshifters, and illusionists. At a certain level of power there's not really a difference between the latter two, but the distinction's still important. Scion is a general term for the child of a human and a non-human, and there are a lot of subcategories to that, though the two overarching subcategories are the ones born with a Choice, and the ones that… sort of aren't, at least in the same sense."
"Choice?" Eva asked.
I looked at Elfleda and arched an eyebrow. She looked back for a few seconds, then sighed. "Aren't you supposed to be teaching?" she asked.
"Sure. But you have a firsthand perspective on the matter," I replied.
"I suppose," she said, taking a deep breath. "The Choice is, essentially, what side of your heritage to embrace. To become human or… not. And it's always present, always there, and… not really difficult to make, I don't think. It feels like walking down a road, with different terrain to your left and right. You can step off at any time, or just keep going."
Something about that phrasing made me frown. "Not forever, right? I'm under the impression scions, or at least changelings, have to choose at some point."
Elfleda shrugged. "If so, I haven't reached that point."
"Hmm." I scratched my chin, then looked back at Eva. "Alright. In the case of the second category, a scion can either be born different right from the start, or be born relatively human and manifest their non-human parent's nature at a later date. We're going to cover one large group from both categories today.
"In the first case, there are changelings, scions with a faerie parent. The pairing doesn't particularly matter. It can be a faerie man and a human woman, or the other way around. They're born completely human and live that way for the first ten, twelve years or so, and once they enter their adolescence they start manifesting parts of their faerie parents' nature, emotional as well as physical. I knew one troll changeling who was big and tough enough to toss me around like a wet rag, which got coupled with anger issues that led to her nearly killing me at one point."
"What happened to her?" Elfleda asked.
"She Chose," I said. "And died right after. Helping me, or saving her friends, or getting revenge. Maybe all three." I didn't like dwelling on that moment or period of my life, for a few reasons.
"Oh."
I nodded. "There are… probably hundreds, if not thousands, kinds of fae, Eva. I couldn't even begin to enumerate them all, and honestly, once you're better at reading, I'll leave the general details to the books."
Eva nodded, then glanced at Elfleda. "What are Sidhe?"
"Faerie nobility, basically," I answered. "The most human ones. They don't actually like being called Faeries, so avoid doing that unless you actually mean to insult them, which I don't recommend because Sidhe tend to be powerful and clever."
Eva turned to look at Elfleda, and seemed to be debating whether to ask a question. Eflelda beat her to the punch. "I inherited a few things from my mother. Magic, a penchant for wordplay," she glanced my way with a small, slightly dull smile, "beauty."
I did not cough.
"Faeries fall into two… well, three general groups," I said a moment later. "The Court of Summer, The Court of Winter, and Wyldfae. The last are generally neutral, though some trend towards Summer, others toward Winter, and in times of crisis they tend to join up with their associated Court. Summer fae tend to be the kinder and nicer sort. That doesn't mean they're always good, or will help you, but they generally won't bother or be hostile to you if you don't give them a reason. Winter fae…"
"Winter is cold, and cruel, and selfish," Elfleda said. "My suggestion is to avoid them as best you can."
"Yeah," I agreed. "We'll cover the Courts in more detail later. They're more of an advanced topic when it comes to magic and wizardry. Witchery. Whatever.
"Now, from the second category, the major relevant group you need to be aware of are vampires. Not the walking corpse kind, those are exceedingly rare. The vampires I'm referring to are collectively known as the White Court. They feed on life force, the energy of the body, through the medium of emotions. They don't bite and drink your blood." I paused. "Well, I guess some bite, but not to drink your blood. Any given vampire tends to feed off of one emotion in particular, predetermined by which emotion their vampire parent fed off of, though they can change it with some effort. Most don't. I don't think there's any specific requirement to what emotions they can feed off of, but from what I know they tend towards ones that let them easily feed and manipulate people. And vampires feed by stirring and fueling that particular emotion in people and then getting close to them, physically. There's three major divisions to the White Court: the Malvora, who feed on fear; the Skavis, who feed on despair, and yes, there is a difference there; and the Raiths, who feed on lust."
I turned my head to look at Elfleda as I said that last part, and not even a second passed before her eyes widened in realization. "The Renouths," she said.
"Yeah," I said.
Eva looked back and forth between me and Elfleda, confused and a little afraid. "What?"
"Your attraction to Tim is not entirely natural," I said, focusing on my apprentice. "I mean, yes, he's objectively handsome, there's no denying that, but he's also semi-consciously pushing and inflaming your interest in him."
"And you haven't done anything to them yet," Elfleda noted before Eva could really start panicking.
"No," I said. "I haven't. Primarily because I've deemed them annoying, but not actively dangerous. And now Lucille is actively terrified of me, which… well, that could go either way, really. But seeing as how nothing's happened yet, my bet is she's not willing to do anything that might get me to come after her."
"How did you manage that?" Elfleda asked, intrigued.
"I looked her in the eyes," I said.
Elfleda arched an eyebrow.
"Now, as to Tim," I said, turning back to Eva. "Yes, he's a vampire. Yes, he's an asshole, at least in my opinion. But I hesitate to call him a monster just yet. A lot of the White Court are, frankly, but that's mostly a product of a stupendously abusive and toxic culture and family traditions. Seeing as how the Renouths have run away from their family and the rest of the Court, I'm willing to extend them some leeway and grace. Now, if you want to avoid Tim and his sister from now on, that's perfectly fine. I have no objection to that and, honestly, for now, that's probably a good idea. But don't… don't attack him or anything. Or her. Vampires have it rough. It's difficult for them to rise above their heritage, and if they're willing to try, they should be given a chance."
Eva didn't really look better. In fact, she looked rather sick. But, in the end, she shakily nodded.
"Okay. I… don't think there's really anything else worth covering at this point, when it comes to vampires." Which wasn't to say that there weren't a lot of things left to cover about vampires, but just that I didn't see the point in scaring Eva any further at the moment.
"Now, I'll have you practice scribing for a bit, while I have a chat with Elfleda"– and so Eva could calm down, which neither Elfleda nor I said aloud –"alright?"
Eva nodded shakily.
"I'll be right back," I said, heading off to my laboratory to grab some parchment, ink, a quill, and a book to copy, and brought it back to the main room. When I came back, I found that Elfleda had moved her chair to the other side of the table, and was side-hugging Eva. Elfleda looked up as I came back into the room, and gave me, or rather what I was carrying, a strange look.
"What?" I asked as I sat down.
"Is Eva adept at writing?" she asked. "Or reading?"
"Not yet, that's why I'm having her practice," I said.
"With parchment and ink, not slate and chalk?" she asked.
I stared at Elfleda for a good three seconds before letting out a long groan and banging my head against the table. "Fuuuuuuuuuck meeeeee."
Elfleda snorted in amusement and Eva gave off this kind of half-laugh, so I guess my lack of foresight paid off in some small way. And then, of course, Elfleda had to take the bait. "Maybe later," she said dryly, which set me to spluttering.
After that moment passed, I moved everything next to Eva and told her that if she had any questions or issues, I'd still be in the room. Then I motioned for Elfleda to follow me, and moved to the far corner.
"I'm sorry if this is insensitive," I said, pitching my voice low. "But considering our arrangement I have to ask. Why haven't you Chosen yet?"
Elfleda sighed. "I don't want to be a Sidhe, or of Winter, but… I'm afraid."
"Of what?" I asked.
"That without my heritage I'd be… ordinary. Forgettable. Powerless. As I am now, I have… I have influence, choice, power. If I gave that all up, who would I be? What would I do? Just another face in the crowd, controlled and directed by the whims of another."
"Do you really think that everything worthwhile about you comes from your mother?" I asked.
"She certainly implied as much," Elfleda said bitterly.
"But didn't state it outright."
"No." She laughed mirthlessly. "I imagine you know how Sidhe talk, never saying anything of substance. And, I just… don't want to take that risk."
I nodded. "But that does leave you under Winter's authority, regardless of the state of your mother."
Elfleda sighed and nodded. "I've... yes, I suppose it does. I…" She choked off a laugh. "Honestly, after hearing about the redcaps, part of me was hoping you'd protect me. I… we can break this off if–"
"Stop," I said, holding up a hand. "You're not some kind of danger, or risk." I frowned. "If anything, now that we're baring some secrets, I'm probably more of a danger to you; Winter's certainly rather interested in me. But if you want to stay, if you want to help, I will protect you. Not like there's a big difference between one and two fugitives."
Elfleda leaned back slightly. "What did you do, to catch Winter's interest or ire?"
"The Winter Queen is… let's say interested in me," I said. "Sexually. Among other things."
Elfleda blinked, then gave me a long, languorous look. "I can see why," she whispered after a moment.
Once again, I did not cough.
After that little moment, we both went back to the main table, where I straightened out Eva's mistakes, answered her questions, and started discussing the particulars of Latin with Elfleda. It probably wouldn't have much use in her personal life, and I would need to go to some lengths in order to get her actually proficient in it, but considering most magic books were written in either Latin or Greek I figured she could get some benefit out of it, with time.
Ultimately though, we didn't spend too long on the reading and writing. Help was important, but this was also the kind of task that could be practiced and done as homework, to some extent. Doubly so with Elfleda's help, who was starting to teach Eva French.
After that, the subject shifted to more magical theory and philosophy, which Elfleda seemed more interested in. Then, during a pause in my lecturing, Eva asked a rather pertinent question:
"You've discouraged me from using magic for simple tasks, not that I can," that last bit was muttered under her breath, "but you used it to make the knife and the, um…"
"Fork," Elfleda and I said simultaneously.
"The fork," Eva went on. "Why was that different?"
"Good question," I said. "And the short answer is context. But for the longer explanation, let me respond with another question: why was not using magic impractical in that scenario?"
"Well, you didn't have anything else," Eva started. "And I… would you know where to buy a knife and fork?"
"Knife, sure. Fork, they don't really make those here. The ones I have I had to commission a blacksmith for and provide specific instructions to him."
"So you couldn't just go out and buy some. And even if you could it would take a while. Then… you did it because it was convenient?" she asked.
"Close, but you're missing an important aspect."
Eva frowned and hummed thoughtfully, and this went on for a little while before she sighed and shook her head.
"Courtesy," Elfleda said. "It would be impolite to leave for an extended period of time. He had already, albeit unintentionally, and innocently, provided utensils that were not of use, and had actually been of harm. The food would have gotten cold."
"As she said-"
"And, perhaps, to impress me."
I gave Elfleda a look.
"No?" she asked.
I sighed, and looked back to Eva. "Whether you should use magic for something 'simple' depends ultimately on how practical it is to do it without magic. If I'd known in advance that Elfleda was a changeling and had days to prepare, then I would have made the utensils myself or, more likely, gone and had some made out of pewter. If I need to make a campfire for the night and I'm not in any hurry, I'll do it myself. If I'm being charged by a rampaging demon-bear, trying to hit it with a sword as opposed to magic is not very practical. Unless it's a very special Sword."
"Rampaging demon-bear?" Elfleda asked. "There's a story there, I think."
"I got my ass kicked before an old, arthritic man with a sword saved me. That's about it," I said, not really wanting to get into the Denarians at this juncture.
Elfleda sighed in disappointment.
That first meeting and lesson went on for another three or so hours, during which Eva consciously and deliberately managed to briefly change the color of the reduced block of wood from an oak brown to a birch white. That prompted me to briefly talk about how and why wizards named spells, and said we'd talk more about it at the next lesson.
Mainly because I needed time to actually prepare some options for her; it wasn't like Eva even knew of many other languages to adopt as a lingua arcana, let alone one that she was unlikely to ever use. I certainly didn't want her making my mistake of choosing Latin.
After they left to go back to the castle, I went into my lab – which did not have any windows – and got to work. I didn't need a language that was actually easy to learn, since Eva wouldn't be using it to actually communicate. What I did need, however, was a language that she wouldn't find hard to pronounce, and that she could extrapolate new words and spells from, even if the words themselves ended up being kind of gibberish. And, preferably, it should be a language I wouldn't need to dig too deeply into Lash's memories for; headaches were a pain to deal with, literally.
Which, in the end, meant my choices were either a transliterated Ancient Sumerian, or my paltry, secondhand knowledge of Japanese. And I didn't really want to use that second one; it reminded me of Molly.
And then, an hour after that, someone knocked on my front door. And from what my preliminary set of wards was telling me, it wasn't a regular person. But not someone really powerful either.
I put on my rings and grabbed my staff as I headed to the front door, fishing the former out of my pocket and taking the latter from where it rested along a wall. Then I went into the front foyer – that's the word – and opened the door without taking down the wards. The wardstone I kept on my person kept them from going off, though they did still shift into an active mode the moment the door was opened even slightly.
Waiting on the other side, features obscured by a fairly plain cloak, was Lucille.
She didn't have her naïve ingenue mask on. Instead, she was pretending to be calm, collected, and in control – and I say pretended, because I could see the discomfort and fear in her eyes, now that I could afford to look in them.
I put the staff up against the side wall, since it was no longer necessary as a defensive tool, and crossed my arms. "Well," I said. I almost went on to say something about failing to schedule a meeting. Almost. I didn't want to scare her off, not yet anyway. "Are you here to talk?"
"I am," she said tersely.
I grabbed my staff, stepped back, and brought down the wards. Then I silently gestured for her to come in. She looked at me.
"I give you my word I won't harm you, but I'm not giving you a formal invitation," I said. "Your Hunger stays out there."
Lucille's lips thinned into a line, and she took a deep breath. After a few moments, she took another one and stepped through, shuddering as she crossed the threshold.
"Close the door, please," I said, then moved back to lean against the door that led further into the house. She did so, then turned to face me.
We stood in silence for a few moments, and then she asked, "Are we going to speak here?"
"To start with, yeah," I said. "What are you here to say?"
It took a bit for her to respond. "Your friend, among the Court. Where is he?"
"Dead," I said. "Has been for a while. I wouldn't bother trying to find anything about him. There's not much left."
Lucille frowned, evidently not pleased by that answer.
"Are you planning on leaving?" I asked when she didn't say anything else.
"Perhaps."
This conversation was really going places, I could tell.
"Who is she?" she finally asked, looking me straight in the eyes.
Really going places.
I swallowed. "You're going to have to be more specific, if you're asking about what I think you're asking about."
"The girl."
I didn't say anything for a long, long while. Finally, hoarsely, I whispered, "My daughter."
A complicated series of emotions – dismissal, anger, sadness – flickered across Lucille's face. I took a deep breath.
"You loved him, didn't you? The first man you slept with," I said.
Lucille froze completely, expression going blank. It maybe wasn't the best response I could have gone with, but she'd brought up what she'd Seen, so I did the same.
After a few moments, contempt settled over her. "Yes. And he was just a shallow, simple man. I was a fool to…" She trailed off and shut up.
"Is that what your father said?" I asked, taking a shot in the dark. "That it was the guy's fault he died, that you became a vampire, that he didn't love you enough? Or at all?"
Lucille glared at me, but didn't say anything. She didn't need to; the glare was answer enough.
"Your father fucked you up, didn't he?"
Lucille clenched her jaw, then inclined her head a fraction of an inch in a nod. I sighed.
"My terms haven't changed," I said. "But I hope you see I'm genuine now, that I'm not just jerking you around."
"Aren't you?" Lucille asked. "I acknowledge that you are… sincere, but what do you actually offer?" She snorted. "A life in chains? A cure?"
I pulled my arms in a little tighter. I hadn't been able to figure out a way to help Susan, but that had been years and years ago, before Lash and before I'd technically sort of kind of done it. But a bloodline curse was not a nice or easy piece of magic to pull off, and I had no clue how to target it at a Hunger, or how to make sure it didn't result in the now Hunger-less person being reduced to a gibbering wreck. Maybe there was a method somewhere in Lash's memories; my godmother had been able to lull Susan's infection to sleep, so there probably was some way to do something similar to a White Court vampire. But I, personally, didn't have the first clue where to start.
"No. I have… vague ideas, but the best I could manage is to prevent your Hunger from feeding. I don't know how to get rid of or seal it away entirely."
Lucille paused at that, then backed up a step. "What?"
"Well, technically it's something my mother figured out and did, but she did leave me some hints and I could probably recreate her work," I said. "But I don't think that's really relevant to your situation. You're right, I can't exactly fix you. But you can better yourself, and if your family comes after you, tries to draw you back into its intrigues, especially if you start growing influential, I can stop them. That's what I'm offering."
Lucille didn't have an immediate response to that. "I will keep your words in mind, wizard," she finally said. "May I go?"
I shrugged. "I'm not keeping you here."
"Then good night."
Then she left.
Author's Note: Part of me wants to start adding notes from the Archive into "the margins", but I'm not really sure how I'd do that effectively.
Regardless of whether I decide to go ahead with it thought, and how, it'll have to wait until the Archive actually appears on screen. Which should be in about… three to five chapters, thereabouts.