The next week is difficult. Although Valthiel's spirits are higher at first, it only lasts for perhaps two days after her encounter with Illyria. He doesn't tell Jian what new information is troubling him, but his mood is more disturbed than she's ever seen it: alternately close to tears and far too happy, making wild jokes and laughing at the slightest provocation.
Gradually, though, this too runs its course and Jian begins to relax a bit.
Today, she sits in an isolated grove of pines near the hot springs that Valthiel once brought her to. She's invited Lynx and Ayslinn to join her for tea this afternoon, and this seemed like a good spot to set up, reasonably private yet still more interesting than the interior of her living quarters. Jaeden hovers nearby, watching for anyone that might try to harm her and offering occasional questions or input.
It's funny, Jian thinks as she watches the water for the exact moment just before it starts to boil, how many things have unexpected uses – and consequences. She loved tea at home, drinking several cups a day and trying every new variety that the rangers and visiting corsairs brought back from their travels. And now, with Lynx's mentorship in crafting poisons and drugs, she can apply what she's learned here to create a perfect brew every single time. It's become a game with herself, to see how elaborate a service she can create and how delicate of herbs she can steep.
So absorbed is she in her work that she only notices the shadow behind her when it gets within arm's length. Cursing herself for her lack of awareness, she manages to remove the startled expression from her face before she turns to face the intruder. "What is it, Derfahn?"
If he's annoyed by her lack of reaction, he doesn't show it, matching her casual tone with his own. "I'm here for you, Princess. We have places to be and people to greet, so wrap up your brewery and come with me. Although we might have the time to waste for you to change into something more… impactful."
"And what kind of impact will I be making?" Jian asks, now genuinely interested.
"The archon is meeting with a highly prioritized guest in his throne room as we speak. Your presence has been requested by both parties, so I highly recommend that you don't disappoint them."
Both parties? Who outside of the kabal knows her well enough to ask for her? Valthiel would never welcome Ordai into his palace, surely. But the assassin seems to be unwilling to elaborate as he leads her back toward her room, Jaeden trailing behind them with an expression of annoyance on her face. She likely resents having someone sneak past her defenses.
In her room, Jian hesitates over her outfit choice. Should she appear as herself, in an elegant but still sensual robe in one of her favorite blues or purples? Or should she dress to her status? After brief consideration, she chooses the latter, slipping into the bathroom to change her dress for a few patches of black leather, held together with straps.
She emerges to find Derfahn still lounging against the door frame and nods to signal that she's ready to meet Valthiel and his mysterious visitor. He looks her up and down, not with his usual thinly-concealed attraction, but with concern. Jian's lip twitches. If whoever is here is important enough that Derfahn is willing to take it visibly seriously, they must be important indeed.
He leads her to Valthiel's throne room and stops just outside, indicating to her that she should go in. She does.
Valthiel sits at the far end of the room, not on his throne but on one of the small couches to the side of the dais. He's wearing his very best armor, with a glass of wine the color of blood in one hand and his pipe in the other. Across from him lounges Lady Aurelia Malys.
Jian recognizes her instantly. It would be impossible for her to forget her, her curling dark hair and the cynical twist of her lips and the deep, cold, blackness that pours off her in waves. Today, she wears a set of armor in blue and green, decorated with a snake motif. Although very different in the details, the quality and overall design reminds her of Valthiel's formal set. She too has a drink in her hand, although hers is clear with a yellow tinge.
Both archons turn to her as she enters the room. Aurelia speaks first. "Ah! There she is! Please, come closer my pretty little thing, we've been waiting for you." She smiles indulgently.
Jian approaches and curtsies. "A pleasure to see you again, my lady." As she looks up, she casts a glance at Valthiel, who smiles and pats the couch next to him. She sits and leans against him. A matter of both appearance and comfort.
"So…" Lady Malys says, her face retaining its cat-like smile. "Would you like to tell her, or shall I?"
Valthiel clears his throat. "I think I should, Lady, as befits the fact that she belongs to me."
"Tell me what?" Jian asks, before remembering that she does, in fact, belong to him and as such should remain silent until spoken to directly.
Instead of answering, Valthiel takes her hands in his and squeezes tightly before meeting her eyes. She can see him struggling with his words.
"Jian, I have been thinking about this for a long time. I once promised you that I would take you to see the galaxy, but due to my obligations here, I'm not sure when I'll be able to leave Commorragh next. Apart from brief raids, it will likely be centuries. And I want to keep my word. So I've spoken with Lady Malys and she has agreed to let you travel with some of her harlequin contacts for a while."
"I don't understand." He's sending her away? Why?
"The masque you'll be traveling with has scheduled performances at several craftworlds, ones we've talked about visiting. I know how much you hate it here, and you deserve a – a vacation. I want you to be happy."
Still, Jian struggles to process the information. What could possibly be behind this? Does he want her out of the way because he somehow thinks she wouldn't approve of his trying to rescue Illyria? Or, worse, is he going to do something stupid and wants to ensure that she can escape any fallout that results?
She opens her mouth to beg him to let her stay, to be a part of whatever he's planning. But she knows that if he truly believes she's in danger, nothing she can say now will sway him. So instead, she places a hand on his cheek and maintains the eye contact, hoping to impress on him how serious she is. "I see. I love you, and I will look forward every day to seeing you when I return."
"I will miss you too," he replies, gripping her hands with enough force that she shifts uncomfortably. "Every day until… I see you again. But your happiness is worth it. You're worth it."
The reality of what's about to happen is starting to sink in. I can see a craftworld again. Feel something besides the endless suffering that's seeped into the bones of this place. Speak with my kin. Be free, if only for a few days.
"Thank you," she whispers, flinging her arms around him. She can only imagine what he must have had to offer Lady Malys in exchange for this gift.
Valthiel returns the embrace with equal intensity, pressing her close to him and burying his face in her hair. When he finally speaks, his voice is husky. "You're welcome, Jian."
But after a few moments, he breaks the contact with a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I'm sorry, Lady Malys, I'm sure I'm taking up your valuable time, and I'm afraid my presence is required elsewhere as well, so I leave Jian to you."
He stands stiffly, his eyes already with the unfocused look of someone whose mind is far away. Without leaving time for either Jian or Lady Malys to comment, he walks away.
After a few steps he stops and turns to Jian one final time. "Thank you," he says, just loud enough for her to hear.
Jian stares after him until he disappears through the doors at the far end of the throne room. Despite his reassurance, she fears that whatever his plans are, they remain unchanged.
Lady Malys' chuckle startles her from her daze and she turns to her.
"Well, that was an interesting little display," the archon says.
"You found it amusing, I take it?" Jian says before remembering her manners. "My lady."
"Of course!" Lady Malys laughs, and Jian is struck again by how beautiful the sound is. But as she finishes, the sound echoes through the room, reverberating in a way that speech didn't until it sounds as though several people are laughing at once.
It chills Jian.
Lady Malys, however, seems not to notice. "I've never seen that sweet little boy so emotional and raw. One could almost say naked. How could I not enjoy it?"
"I'm glad I have provided you with some enjoyment in your life, my lady."
Leaning forward, Lady Malys reaches out to run cold fingers along Jian's jawline. "Ah, my dear Jian, I always knew you would. Now, tell me. Do you think you could feasibly pose as a harlequin? Or do I need to find another excuse for why you are on board?"
Jian frowns, considering. She knows very little about them, apart from the few performances she saw from masques that stopped on Yme-loc when she was a child. They were breathtaking, but there is no chance she would be able to master such complicated disciplines. Simply standing in the background and fighting if needed, though? "I think so, if I was not required to participate in one of their shows."
"SPLENDID!" Lady Malys practically squeals out the word. "That sounds like a wager to me. Of course, I'll give you plenty of time to practice and prepare with the rest of the masque. Do this, and I'll make sure you get out and back safely."
Her face takes on a predatory smirk. "But should you perform badly, I will, of course, have to collect a forfeit for damaging the reputation of one of my resources. And since you're a slave and have no property, I will be forced to take it from your lord archon instead. Don't you agree?"
Jian can feel a flush darkening her cheeks. Gods, what has she gotten herself into?
"I will do your best to live up to your expectations, Lady." It's all she can think to say in the moment.
"You are absolutely adorable, you know that, right?" Without waiting for a response, she stands and heads for the doors, gesturing for Jian to follow her.
Instantly, Jian's heart rate slows and the tension leaves her body somewhat as Lady Malys' eyes no longer rest on her face. Nonetheless, she feels compelled to respond as she hurries to catch up. "Lord Aire certainly seems to think so. Although I find that such things are not always an advantage."
Lady Malys stops and turns to look at Jian. "How do you mean?"
"It's often better to escape attention, than command it. Especially when I do not have the power to control that interest." Cursing herself internally for saying anything more than the bare minimum, she clamps her mouth shut.
However, her comments seem to have intrigued the archon. She stares at Jian intensely, beckoning for her to walk beside her as she continues. "And what do you believe you lack in order to take advantage of other's attention?"
Jian raises a questioning eyebrow, wondering if Lady Malys is joking. "As you just said, I am only a slave in another's house. I command no troops and have few connections and no wealth. And it seems unwise to rely on someone else's strength like it was my own."
"Is that how you think the universe works, then? That one day you will be handed power and wealth and can develop the skills to use them properly at your own discretion?"
"No," replies Jian, more defensively than she meant to. "But future power isn't power now. And I don't want to risk everything trading on the possibility of being able to back up my words at a later date."
"Or perhaps you could seek to use the attention granted by your appearance and your charisma to secure advantages for yourself in the here and now, turning and twisting opportunities as they come. All in the service of slowly building that wealth and political power you dream of?" She wraps her arm around Jian's shoulder, pulling her close exactly as Valthiel might.
Yet instead of comfort and safety, Jian simply feels dread. Again, she is helpless, a tiny, insignificant slave at the mercy of the drukhari. "Perhaps," she says in an effort to not appear totally overwhelmed.
The lady seems not to notice the effect she is having as she twines her fingers in Jian's hair. "All I am suggesting is that instead of waiting for fate to come to you, step ahead of it. Use the tools at your disposal now to secure your future success. After all, we're all dealt hands of different values but the way we use them is still up to us. Just because all you have is a pair of twos, that doesn't mean you can't win against a flush if you bluff well enough."
"You speak from personal experience." It's a guess, but one that stands a good chance of being correct. The universe deals few eldar a good hand, and many of those that receive one still feel cheated.
"I come from similar, albeit not identical circumstances." Lady Malys nods approvingly at Jian's assumption. "I used to be the consort of the supreme overlord himself. It feels like almost a lifetime ago . . . perhaps it was. Needless to say, it did not last."
"You must have been quite clever to escape such a position with your life." Jian feels the slightest bit of respect growing for her. Assuming it's true, of course.
Lady Malys shrugs with false casualness. "When he grew bored with me, he threw me out of his palace and declared me unwelcome in Commorragh, to be hunted by most everyone in the city who sought to make a name for themselves. It required all my guile, skills, and intelligence to survive, but I was able to use the resources I had left to bring myself back to where I am today."
A bit of amusement mixes with Jian's fear and awe. Her false modesty fools no one. "That is quite the accomplishment. You seem to have done quite well, considering."
"Which is why I have taken a shine to you, my dear." Lady Malys' arm remains around her shoulders as she guides her out onto the landing platform where a Venom transport waits for them, painted in the Kabal of the Poisoned Tongue's blue and green heraldry.
"You have?"
"Of course. Do you think I would have done more than have my men drag you off to the harlequin ship if I wasn't at least somewhat intrigued? I want to help you, to guide you as you shed your craftworld superstitions about right and wrong and your conceptions of what ought and ought not to be, and to make you see the universe for what it is. Only then will you be the one who writes the laws, instead of being bound by them.
"I see." Unasked is the question Why me?
"So again," Lady Malys says, a soft finger brushing Jian's cheek as she settles them into the Venom, "just because you lack the direct force of power at this point, that does not mean you do not have certain assets of your own. And indirect coercion can be just as effective as a blade to the throat."
"I suppose."
For the first time, Jian forces herself to meet Lady Malys' eyes. They're golden, like Valthiel's, the whites dark from the warp poisoning that most drukhari experience, and they stare back at her with an expression of barely contained glee. But behind them, she can still feel the same, piercing, cold otherness that so frightened her the first time they met. Her courage falters momentarily, but she swallows and manages to get out what she meant to. "I can't help but wonder what you get out of it."
"All I want is your ear, and a willingness to hear me out instead of dismissing me as nothing more than an enemy to fear. That's it."
"I suppose I can give you that. Thank you." Her assent costs nothing and will avoid what she suspects will be a very nasty retaliation should she refuse.
"Any time, dear. Any time."
Lady Malys says little during the lengthy ride in the transport and Jian does not attempt to start a conversation. She contents herself with watching the city go by and trying not to think about the archon's gaze intent on her.
It takes well over an hour to reach their destination, a small ship that reminds Jian achingly of a craftworld vessel, complete with solar fins reaching up and down and a polished wraithbone hull, painted in brilliant reds and yellows and oranges.
Lady Malys leads her inside and orders her to sit down. She disappears, leaving Jian to observe her surroundings. The room is furnished as a lounge, with a pair of small couches facing each other and a quartet of chairs surrounding a square table where she can spot a chess game half-finished. It's similar in many ways to an officers' recreation room on her mother's ship.
My mother. Guilt twists in Jian's stomach. It's been days since she remembered her screaming and dying while Jian did nothing. Weeks, maybe months since she woke up in the middle of the night with the aching void in her chest where her mother's soul had resonated off hers. But she hasn't forgotten. She hasn't. She can't, if she does, she'll –
"Jian?"
She looks up, startled. A woman stands before her, tall and lithe in a way that reminds her somewhat of Lynx, but taken to almost supernatural proportions. Clad in the same sunset colors as the ship, she wears a blank-faced mask and a hood and carries a staff in one hand. Behind her, Jian can see Lady Malys offering a gleeful smile and a little wave as she heads for the exit.
"That is me." She finds herself pressing deeper into the upholstery. Harlequins are an enigma, the servants of the mercurial Laughing God, Cegorach. She's never spoken to one before, but knowing that this group, at least, are allies of such a powerful drukhari… Harlequins have visited Yme-loc before. We let them in.
"Lady Aurelia tells me that you're going to be staying with us for a while. And joining our next production, yes?"
"Yes." Jian looks down at her lap. She has no idea how a stranger will react to this. Probably badly; it's quite the imposition, and she's no one to them.
The harlequin leans forward, closer to her. "Is something wrong?"
"I'm just… nervous."
"Oh? How come?"
"I mean, I know that you didn't ask to have me aboard and that my presence will be a burden as you rehearse your show with an unskilled performer." Best to put aside any illusions right away. If this woman is upset about her being here, Jian will find out now.
To her surprise, though, the woman sits down, turning in an impossibly smooth gliding motion to place herself on the couch next to Jian. "My friend," she says. "I give you my word, your presence here is not an imposition."
"It's not?"
The woman gestures, and an illusion of two asuryani children playing appears on the floor in front of them. "Not at all. Slipping an outsider into our performances with the craftworlders none the wiser? That sounds like exactly the kind of shenanigans the Laughing One would approve of."
Jian finds herself blushing in the embarrassment of how much relief this brings her. If she can stay on the harlequins' good side, this might not be too unpleasant of a trip. "Tha – thank you. Just let me know what you want to do."
Instead of answering, the other woman pulls off her helmet, revealing strands of wavey black hair and a pretty face decorated with red tattoos. She frowns. "There is a lot of pain and lament in your recent past, isn't there?"
"No more than many others. Especially in Commorragh." Time has brought perspective, and as much as her heart still aches and her body still feels emptied and numb, she knows it could have been far worse.
"Nonetheless, it seems to me that sorrow is a great deal of what makes you you. Am I wrong?" Kaeandra smiles vaguely, an expression that reminds Jian of the few times she had spoken with one of Yme-loc's farseers.
"You're not."
"It's quite beautiful in a way." The smile quirks into a grin. "I think I know where we can use you in the show. We're going to perform the tale of the War in Heaven, and I think you would make a wonderful Isha."
"I'll do my best." Jian can't hide her surprise – and her nerves. She had expected to stay in the background, as a minor character, but Isha's separation from the aeldari was the reason the war started. Do they intend for her to fail and humiliate herself?
"You know the story, yes?"
"Of course." It's one of the most important tales of their old gods. "I've never seen a performance of it, though."
"I have seen it done many times, although never with this troupe. It is a story of fate, and of the futility of escaping your own destiny, a theme that all aeldari need a reminder of at points – craftworld and Commorragh alike. We will work with you to find your talents and skills to bring to the role, as we all do. Just focus on your pain, your anguish, and your love. Those together will form the heart of Isha in you."
"I think I can do that…"
The harlequin gives her a friendly squeeze on the shoulder and her playful smile returns. "And if Achadir gets too frisky as Kurnuos, just remember that he's supposed to be your consort, not the other way around. Don't be afraid to show him his place if he acts up."
"Thank you. I will." Jian finds herself smiling back, set a bit at ease by the woman's straightforward manner. She can almost believe that every word doesn't carry a lie or a hidden agenda. Even if she knows that trusting a harlequin means putting herself at the mercy of Cegorach's ever-changing and inscrutable plans.
"And feel free to add a knee if he needs it." The woman stands and holds out a hand. "Now let's get you settled. My name is Kaeandra, by the way."
"Very nice to meet you." Jian takes the hand and follows her deeper into the ship.
The next few weeks pass quickly. Kaeandra, Jian quickly learns, is the seer of the Masque of the Bleeding Sun. Although she is by far the friendliest member of the group, none of the others seems interested in actively antagonizing her. After brief introductions, most leave her to herself.
Long hours each day are spent rehearsing the show that the masque will perform during their travels across the scattered remnants of the eldar. Based on fragments of conversation and oblique references, Jian gathers that it has been centuries since they brought this legend to life, and the makeup of the troupe has changed significantly since then.
Kaeandra and Delrain, the grim-faced drukhari man whom the others refer to as a "death jester", take the role of co-directors. Kaeandra narrates, while Delrain plays the part of Khaine. This means that he spends a large chunk of the rehearsal time with Jian and Achadir, a young man constantly in motion. Delrain drills them for hours, tolerating no flaw and putting Jian through her paces until he has tuned the part to her talents.
To her joy, he decides to incorporate a solo aria for her near the beginning, an aching lament of grief at being separated from her children, the aeldari, that builds to hope as her tears are forged into the waystones that reunite them. The notes tumble over themselves, swelling and receding like a heartbeat below the music, echoing the life that Isha gave them.
Her other scenes are less pleasant. Achadir seems determined to take full advantage of his role as Kurnous and at first she finds his hands constantly on her, touching, exploring, his body too close and his smile too wide. He calms down after several harsh words from both her and Kaeandra, but their interactions retain the grimy, unclean discomfort that she associates with him now.
Distressing in a different way are her later scenes, most of which showcase Kurnous and Isha's suffering at the hands of Khaine when he discovered their disobedience against Asuryan in contacting the aeldari. Delrain is quiet and removed when not in-character, which makes it all the more frightening when he menaces and tortures her, even if only in pantomime. His pale face and dark, expressionless eyes remind her too much of what she so narrowly escaped.
Despite these setbacks, though, Jian soon finds herself enjoying her residence on the harlequin ship. Wherever it is docked after it leaves Commorragh, it is a place of psychic peace, free of the chaos and oppressive cruelty of the dark city. Although she still feels on edge around the masque when it gathers in groups, the harlequins themselves prove far less threatening than their mysterious reputation has led her to fear. Each one may be capable of eviscerating her in half a second, but she doesn't think they will try unless provoked. She hopes they won't try.
The play is nearing readiness when Jian receives a summons to Delrain's office. She answers nervously. She's never spoken to him outside of rehearsals.
He waits for her behind his desk. The office is small and simple, with only the bare necessities stored efficiently on plain shelves. To Jian's surprise, instead of the simple clothing that members of the masque have been wearing during their rehearsals, he wears his armor and mask, a leering skull face that echoes the raw destruction that he is responsible for creating on the battlefield.
"Well met," he says as she enters.
There is no second chair for her, and he gives her no indication of what to do, so Jian remains standing. "And to you as well."
"I have to admit that I am impressed by the speed with which you have begun to pick up our ways and the enthusiasm you show for our lore keeping and storytelling. I was skeptical, but I now agree with Kaeandra's assessment that you should be allowed to join our troupe on our journey."
"Thank you very much, both for the opportunity and for your hospitality to me, a stranger. You have no idea how much this means to me." Jian can't help but sigh with relief. She's been so focused on learning her part, and on not disappointing Lady Malys and bringing harm to herself or to Valthiel, that she hasn't even had time to think about the substance of the visit itself.
It's impossible to read Delrain's expression behind his rictus mask, but she is certain that he looks much like Lord Vrash as he speaks. "Hospitality that we are duty-bound to uphold, as the trade of favors and boons has supported aeldari society since its inception. It is not kindness, but honor, that has led to your acceptance."
"Understood," Jian replies, her warm mood dampened.
"And it is similar obligations that require me to check with you to ensure that you will not create problems when we reach Yme-loc – "
Whatever he might say after that, she doesn't hear. Yme-loc. They're taking me home. But what – Surely Valthiel must have known where they were going? He must have –
Oh.
Somehow, in all the hours they have spent together, in all the promises of love and loyalty and sacrifice, it has never seemed possible that he might let her go back to Yme-loc. It was a dream she put aside to avoid driving herself insane with hope, and he never gave her any sign that he was thinking about it.
And yet even in the rush of happiness that fills her with an electric joy, a thread of hurt remains. The cruel voice of her early fears, asking what she must have done for him to reject her like this.
"Jian?" Delrain's harsh voice cuts into her thoughts. "Do you understand?"
"Understand what?" she breaths. I can see Reena again. Speak to my father, somehow make amends for failing to save the rest of the ship…
"I asked if you understand the situation. We will perform, stay for the rest of the day to entertain our audience, and then we will leave. And you will leave with us. Voluntarily. With no fuss. No matter what other deals you may have made with your lord archon."
The air leaves Jian's lungs. Black spots gather in her vision as she opens and shuts her mouth silently, trying to recover from the sudden reversal. "You mean I – "
But what can she say? What can she do? "Yes, I understand," she says quietly. Perhaps she will find a way to escape despite her promise. But she understands.
"Good." Delrain stands abruptly. "The last thing we want to do is to bring further suffering and death to our already embattled people before we inevitably arrive at the same conclusion."
"Of course not. Was there anything else you wished to discuss?"
"No, that will be everything."
Jian leaves the death jester's office in a daze, trying to keep the dozens of thoughts competing to overwhelm her mind from burying her. To have the opportunity presented and suddenly snatched away…
Perhaps she should just stay on the ship.
But no. Reena and her father believe her to be dead or suffering unknowable agony in the depths of Commorragh. If she has the chance to tell them that she's alright, and doesn't, she doubts that she can ever forgive herself. And her father will want to know that her mother is dead, if only to stop the horrible, painful hope that she knows he must still be holding on to.
She encounters no one as she returns to the cabin the masque has assigned her, where she remains in solitude, preparing the most important lie of her life.
Despite the countless hours of preparation leading up to it, and the even greater amount of time that she has poured into dreaming of a day like this, the moment that Jian steps out of the harlequin ship still catches her off-guard. How many times has she been here, in this very port, watching her mother or her friends leave or waiting for their arrival from places she could only dream of seeing? The familiarity washes over her as she follows the Masque of the Bleeding Sun through the space port, accompanied by crowds of excited asuryani. She knows the graceful curves of the wraithbone arches that support the space, the dozens of sculptures and murals by Yme-loc's most accomplished artisans, the relaxing sound of running water from the fountain-filled garden just outside.
Yet there are differences, too. A new ship sits in the berth her mother's once occupied. A painting she's never seen before hangs in the corridor that leads from the space port to the rest of the craftworld. And as she steps outside, into the soaring, pale-blue sky and the lush greenery, she's struck by a vast emptiness.
Is this all there is?
How many times has she dreamed of this moment, imagined coming home over and over again, wondered what it would be like to set foot on the wide, smooth streets and feel the whispers of the infinity circuit singing in the back of her mind? But now that she's here, her thoughts are far more troubled. She has no idea why, but the perfect homecoming she envisioned feels hollow and unsatisfying.
She's grateful for the helmet on her borrowed motley. It hides the tear that trickles down her cheek.
The procession moves down the pathways of the craftworld at a brisk pace, through gardens and galleries and open patios. Jian catches glimpses of the market where she used to buy gifts for Reena and jewel-toned robes for herself. They walk past the park where she began her journey to the Shrine of the Ever-thirsting Blade for the first time.
Memories and questions tug at her as she walks, wondering if Verynia escaped, or if the shrine stands empty and silent, waiting for a new exarch to find it. If the faces she catches glimpses of belong to old acquaintances, or strangers. If she can do this, or if she will have to return to the ship and let others carry her words for her.
They arrive after perhaps half an hour at one of the large squares that Jian knows are often used for such events. If she's not mistaken, it's the one where the reception took place the last time a troupe of harlequins visited. Long tables line the edges of the space, loaded with all the food she remembers from her childhood, while the center of the courtyard is filled with the citizens of Yme-loc, talking, laughing, and eating.
She looks to Kaeandra for direction and the shadowseer nods slightly. So she follows Achadir and several of the other lower-ranking members of the Bleeding Sun to the tables, where she fills several bowls with her favorites – soft brown grains and five-spiced meat in a warm orange sauce and vegetables and sweet fried pastries seasoned with flower petals. Balancing the dishes on her arms, she searches for a place to sit down.
It proves harder than she anticipated. She'll have to remove her mask to eat, which runs the risk of someone noticing her. She isn't sure what will happen if the autarchs and the seer council discover that she's returned, but she doubts she'll be able to talk her way into leaving against so many. And every spot she thinks to sit seems to have someone nearby who sends a tingle of familiarity through her.
She wanders further and further away from the feast, eventually finding a place to settle herself under a tree in the garden across the street. For perhaps a quarter hour, she sits, eating and watching the gathering from afar. It gives her time to think.
It hasn't been as hard as she feared. The places all hold remnants of her life, and being here has stirred those memories of better times, but they're just that. Memories. Ones she's already played over in her head a thousand times in an effort to keep from forgetting.
It's so quiet. At first, she appreciated it, loved the calm, ordered psychic landscape after the chaos and pain of Commorragh. But as her spoon begins to scrape the bottom of the bowl, she finds herself growing frustrated. It's like listening to a song with the same notes playing over and over, with each mind's rigid path forming an unyielding pattern.
Was it always like this? Or is it a change in her, the compromises she's made and the darker thoughts that lick at the back of her mind now, the call of She Who Thirsts telling her that this isn't enough, that she needs more.
Perhaps she needs a drink.
It's as she's gathering her dishes to return to the feast that she sees her. Reena.
She's not far away, on the edge of the square closest to Jian, leaning against a wall and talking to the woman next to her. Jian's eyes must have passed over her a dozen times as she sat, but it's just now that she recognizes her. Such a change has come over her that Jian still almost wonders if she's mistaken.
But as she approaches, mask back in place and hood pulled up to hide the distinctive silver-white of her hair, her certainty increases. It's Reena. Gods, what happened to her? It seems like she's aged decades in the two years Jian has been gone, with all the soft curves of her body and face lost in hard muscle and sharp angles and her wavy red hair cut short and combed back in a severe, practical style.
Another woman approaches as well, and Jian stops, held by sudden shyness, and watches. The stranger is their own age, tall, with long, obsidian hair in an elaborately cascading braid. She wears the robes of an officer on the Path of the Mariner, although Jian is too far away to pick out the exact rank, and in her hands she carries two crystal goblets of wine.
Reena accepts one of the drinks and says something, likely a thanks. Even from this distance, Jian can see the mariner's face light up and she smiles as she replies. It must have been a joke of some kind, as Reena flashes her a smile – still the same smile – before her stormy expression returns.
She could have stood there for hours, watching and bathing in the dozens of emotions the scene brings her, but the mariner looks up and clearly notices her, drawing Reena's attention to her as well. Her stealth broken, Jian begins to approach slowly. Her heart seizes in her throat as the other girl kisses Reena lightly on the cheek and offers her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before darting away. Reena doesn't respond, simply staring down at her wine as though it has personally offended her.
Jian walks forward until she's just in front of Reena, and still the other girl ignores her. She waits for a few seconds, preparing, then reaches out to tap her on the shoulder. "Reena?"
"Go away," she replies without looking up.
In the time she's been away, with all that's happened to her and all she's done, Jian has become very good at hiding her emotions. Here, in the psychically charged environment of the craftworld, it's more difficult, but she still manages to keep from bursting into tears. "Reena," she says around the lump in her throat. "It's me."
Reena's head snaps up, face pale with shock. She watches transfixed, the dark circles under her eyes standing out like bruises, as Jian removes her helmet.
"Jian… but – but how? It's impossible!"
She shakes her head. "It's me, I swear."
"How?" Reena begins to tremble, hope and fear mixing plainly on her face.
"May I… may I sit?" All the words she planned are slipping away from her and her limbs feel weak.
Reena nods and reaches out, seeming almost not to realize what she's doing, to brush the edges of Jian's borrowed outfit with her fingers. Perhaps checking to see if she's an illusion or a dream.
"I – " Jian stops, takes another breath, closes her eyes. "The alarm was a drukhari raid, Reena. You know that, I'm sure. Mother and the rest of the Shrine of the Ever-Thirsting Blade were killed. I tried to fight back but they… I was captured instead."
Reena continues nodding, her eyes fixed on Jian's face.
"I almost despaired. I thought… " Jian cuts herself off there. There will be no benefit to Reena knowing what happened to her mother, or where her mind went in the depths of that hold. "You know the stories. But that's when the harlequins found me. Apparently the Laughing God has a sense of humor. Who knew? They ransomed me from the raiders and offered me a place in their masque. When Cegorach calls, you can't exactly say 'no'."
But instead of relief, her story merely brings fear and confusion to Reena's expression. "So the harlequins saved you from the dark ones, only to enslave you themselves?"
"No! It was more like I found my true path. I would have felt the pull sooner or later, this was just the moment and the way it happened." Jian tries to smile, but she's unsure if she succeeds.
Looking down at her lap, Reena is silent for a long time. When she does reply, her voice is barely above a whisper and raw with pain. "Why didn't you try to find me or send a message sooner?"
The accusation stings with truth and before she can stop herself, Jian flings her arms around her. "I'm sorry," she says as her tears spill over. "For a long time, I couldn't. First I was on the raiders' ship, and then I was sequestered for the first part of my harlequin training. Like when I joined the Banshees, remember?"
"But later… when you finished?" Reena returns the hug, but gingerly, as though Jian might disappear if she squeezes her too hard.
"By that time, I didn't think you would believe me if I sent a message. Believe that it was me. Or that I was alright. I wanted to tell you myself…"
The arms around her waist tighten and Reena trembles. Again, it takes her a long time to respond, but when she does, her voice is firm. "Very well, then. Take me to the leader of your masque so that I can join too."
Oh no. She'd planned a dozen contingencies, but somehow the idea that Reena would try to follow her hadn't been one of them. Only the chosen join the ranks of Cegorach's most loyal followers, every aeldari knows this. A rejection is certain, they both know it is, but in the rejection, Kaeandra or Delrain might reveal Jian's lies and cause more harm than the simple truth would have.
"Of course," she says. "But please, stay with me first… tell me how you are? What's been happening to you?" If it's all going to come crashing down, she needs just a bit longer to hold her and take in the presence that she's missed so much.
Reena relaxes slightly, the tension of nearly standing up leaving her body. "Izantyr… your father… he knew as soon as the first escape ships arrived that you and your mother were gone, but I kept hoping. I waited at the space port every day until the last one arrived and I prayed every night that somehow you had both escaped. But you never came… "
"I know, I know. I'm sorry Reena. I wanted to."
"When the last ship came and they told me that they'd seen you going back to the bridge, I should have been sad. I felt like I should have been sad, but I was just angry. They'd killed you, or were going to kill you, and there was nothing I could do. And all Izantyr would do was cry about it when he should have been doing something!"
"Reena? What happened to you?" This doesn't sound like her – she's never heard such hatred in her voice before, never seen an expression of so much rage on her face. It's like an entirely different woman sits in front of her.
"I wanted to join the Howling Banshees. To – to honor you. And to eradicate the filth took you away and pollute the universe with their savagery while they dare to wear our faces and call themselves our people." And then, as suddenly as it began, the darkness is gone and there is only sadness. "I couldn't get in. The door of every Banshee shrine I tried was closed to me. But I kept wandering, for days, until I reached the Shrine of the Final End. And the door opened."
"A Dark Reaper?" Jian breathes in horror. Reena – her Reena – clad in black armor, a painted skull over her face as she annihilates everything in her path as the embodiment of Khaine's most destructive aspects. And it's Jina's fault for leaving such a hole in a loved one's heart.
"Yes."
The single word is enough to break down what's left of her self-control and she hugs Reena tighter, sobbing loud enough that those around them can surely hear. "I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry, I didn't want to leave you. I missed you so much, I miss you every day."
Reena hugs back. The darkness of her mood still lingers cold around her, but in the embrace there is a measure left of the old Reena. The healer who wanted nothing more than for everyone she loved to be safe and happy. She kisses Jian's neck. "At least we're together again, right?"
"I don't know… "
Jian can hear her swallow hard. "What do you mean?"
"We don't stay in one place, Reena. As soon as we finish our show this evening, we're leaving for Iybraesil. I don't know when we plan to return. If we ever do."
"Well, I'll just have to join you, then. Simple as that." Reena stands and holds her hand out for Jian to take.
"I'll take you to our shadowseer, then." Replacing her borrowed mask, Jian takes the hand and squeezes it tight. Every moment, every interaction, is precious now.
It doesn't take long for her to spot Kaeandra sitting at a table, sipping on a glass of wine. Unlike the other harlequins Jian can see, who all remain aloof from the craftworlders, the shadowseer is in the middle of telling a story to a trio of wide-eyed asuryani children. Illusions and flamboyant gestures accompany the tale and Jian can't help smiling as she watches. Reena, too, seems transfixed. That could have been them, once.
After only a few minutes, however, the story finishes and Kaeandra looks up. "What can I do for you?"
"This is Reena. She would like to join the Masque of the Bleeding Sun."
Kaeandra studies them both, and Jian shifts uncomfortably. She knows the woman is using her gifts as a seer to determine what to do, and she doesn't want to imagine what information she might learn in her searching.
"Do you wish to vouch for her?"
"Yes." What else can she say?
"Very well. I will let the rest of the masque know and we will deliberate together, after the show. You will have our answer before we leave."
"Of course." Jian breathes a silent sigh of relief.
"Now, with that arranged, would you like to join me for our next story?"
Jian shakes her head. "I'd love to, but I think there are a few people I need to see before the show."
She and Reena leave the party, wandering slowly down the streets of Yme-loc. After a few minutes of charged silence, Jian finds that she's been unconsciously walking toward the Shrine of the Ever-Thirsting Blade. As she stops to plan another route, she realizes that she's running out of time to say everything she meant to say.
"Reena, where is my father?" Isha's tits, she's forgotten all about him in the rush of seeing her old lover again.
Reena remains silent and Jian's fear grows. If something has happened to him, if he's done something… "Is he alright?" she repeats.
"He's alive." Another pause. "Losing both you and your mother was too much to bear on the Path of the Thought-talker. He is likely in the Halls of the Dead, letting his sorrow carry the burden of grief for all our people's troubles."
Swallowing back tears, Jian nods. "I would like to see him… But not now. I want to spend as much time as can with you now, before the show." She's not sure if she's ready to see him like this, her strong, wise father given over to pain and walking the Path of Grief, clad in white like a ghost.
The next few hours are interminable, yet also far too short. Every topic of conversation is a minefield, every word needs to be second-guessed so that Reena doesn't suspect the truth. Still, Jian finds herself longing for more time, for days or weeks instead of only a few hours to wander through the forests and beaches and tell each other everything they meant to say before it was too late.
By the time she excuses herself to prepare for the harlequins' show, Jian feels as though she's gone through every emotion she possesses, leaving her numb. She readies herself in silence, putting on her costume and placing her mask, a stylized feminine face with a single jeweled tear, into position.
The show passes in a blur. At first, she fears that her practice will fail her at a crucial moment, leaving her and her loved ones to face Lady Malys' wrath. But as she takes the stage, she finds the music sweeping her away, Isha's sadness and love consuming her until it feels less like she sings and more like the goddess sings through her.
In the moments of relative calm that follow while she and Achadir wait to be released from Khaine's dungeons, off stage for many of the dramatic battles that she can hear Kaeandra describing, she watches the crowd. He father is missing, as expected. Those on the Path of Grief are supposed to separate themselves from the rest of the asuryani so that their emotions don't disrupt the serenity of the craftworld except at funerals.
Reena, however, is there, with the dark-haired mariner at her side. She looks slightly less disinterested than she did earlier, Jian is happy to note, watching the show with wide eyes and allowing the other woman to take her hand in the most dramatic battles. Despite the stab of jealousy this brings her, Jian hopes that it means her visit has helped.
Her time to contemplate is short-lived. Before long, she returns to the stage as Vaul offers his ransom of one hundred swords and guides Isha and Kurneuos to safety before their captor can discover the single mortal blade hidden among them. And then her part is done, left backstage to change into her borrowed motley and cool her parched throat with sweet craftworld wine while the rest of the War in Heaven rages in song and dance and ritualized combat in the theater outside.
The Masque of the Bleeding Sun returns to their ship after the performance. They plan to depart later that evening and apparently feel no need to interact with the craftworlders further. Jian goes with them, unsure what she wants to do with the few hours left of her visit. She knows that before long, she will have to face Reena, either with the fact that she can't join the harlequins, or the revelation of her own lies.
Barely half an hour later, someone knocks at the door to her cabin. She answers it to find Reena there, eyes red and face haunted. Again, Jian throws her arms around her, knowing without asking what Kaeandra's answer was. In a way, the decision is a relief, even if some part of her has been dreaming the impossible dream of the two of them traveling the stars together, leaving both craftworld and Commorragh behind to join the harlequins.
Reena doesn't return the gesture, but she doesn't resist it either. Jian holds on for a few minutes before she looks up. "Kaeandra already told me; I'm sorry."
"I… " Whatever Reena was going to say is lost as she slumps against Jian's shoulder, muffled sobs the only sound in the quiet cabin.
Jian guides her toward the bed and helps her sit. She knows from experience that this kind of pain needs time to dull before Reena will be ready to say anything.
After perhaps half an hour, Reena looks up. "I don't know what to do… " she says in a broken voice.
Smiling through her own tears, Jian strokes her hair. "I love you Reena. I always have and I always will, and I want you to know that. Thinking about you, knowing that you were safe and could be happy, it got me through the worst days of my life. I wish that fate had been kinder to us. I wish that Mother and I would have stayed here, and we could have all lived on together. But you can't live the rest of your life chasing the shadow of times that will never be."
Even if, by some miracle, she found a way to defy Lady Malys and return home, she's a husk of the girl she once was, a newer, sadder self filling in the empty spaces that the drukhari have carved in her. And what about Valthiel? Leaving him behind forever would be just as painful as this moment is now.
She sniffles, remembering the mariner who seemed so determined to make Reena smile, unafraid of the simmering anger that seems to be the default emotion of her new path. "There are others here who care for you. Don't hold yourself back for my sake – you deserve a chance to be happy, not to live your life struggling through a calling that isn't yours."
"No!" Reena grips Jian's arm tighter. "There will never be someone other than you, there can't! And if you're on a path that I can't follow… "
"Reena, I love you. I want you to be happy. Even if that means being with someone else. You don't have to fall in love again, but I want you to know that you're not betraying me if you do. The thing that would make me the happiest is to know that you can smile again." And Reena would say the same to her, wouldn't she?
"… I don't know."
She can see the darkness still flickering in Reena's eyes, the bloodlust that has become both of their constant companion howling to be unleashed. She grabs her roughly by the shoulders. "Reena, look at me. I need to you to promise me something."
"Anything."
"That anger you feel right now? I need you to fight it. I know what it's like. You want to put your war mask on and never take it off so that you don't have to feel the pain. But you can't do that." She can feel tears starting to flow again. "I need you to promise me. I'll never forgive myself if you lose yourself on the path for my sake."
Reena blinks, apparently taken aback by the sudden intensity, but after a moment, she nods ascent. "I give you my word, Jian, that I will remain myself in case we ever meet again."
"Thank you." Guilt still gnaws at her for her own unfaithfulness, but at least Reena is free to make her own way. "May I ask one more promise from you?"
"You always were a greedy one." Reena's smile, though still tinged with sadness, seems genuine this time. "What is it?"
Jian reaches over to her desk and picks up the piece of parchment that lies there. She spent hours laboring over the words, but they still don't feel like enough. "Can you give this to Father?"
"You're not meeting him yourself?"
She shakes her head. "I've already had my heart broken once today. I can't do it again." It's the truth, but only in part. More than simply the sadness, she fears that someone who's known her since the day she was born will be able to see through her lies. She can't bear to let that happen. "I'm not strong enough."
Reena places a hand on her shoulder. Her grip is surprisingly firm, reminding Jian just how much she, too, has changed in the last few years. "Don't worry, Jian. It's my turn to carry a burden for you, now. I'll take it, and your love, to your father."
"Thank you."
Standing, Reena pulls Jian up into an embrace. Her face is set into hard lines and her back straight and rigid, but her voice is the same soft, gentle tone hat Jian remembers from long nights together. "I love you. I always will."
"And I you. I'm so glad I got to see you again. And I promise, I am alright."
"Which is all I care about for the moment." She kisses her again, long and deep and full of bittersweet affection.
To Jian's surprise, Reena is the one who breaks the contact, leaving them both standing uncomfortably at the doorway to the cabin. "I suppose I should go," Reena says.
"I suppose so." Jian tries to smile and fails. "They want to leave soon, I think. Goodbye, Reena. May Khaine protect you, Cegorach smile on you, and Isha heal your heart."
"And the same to you, my dearest Jian."
The two girls who once shared everything part to their separate paths.
The warrior returns to her people, surer than ever of her place in the tranquility of the craftworld. As she bears the letter of regrets and goodbyes towards it recipient, her grief and hatred harden into resolve: this will not happen to anyone else. She will protect her people, no matter the cost.
The slave, meanwhile, remains in the darkness and quiet of her cabin, caught between worlds. The pain of having freedom presented, only to be suddenly ripped away, is mixed with guilt and longing as both her loves feel like betrayal of the other. Torn between the woman she is and the one she wishes she could have been, she curls into herself and waits for the journey to pass, hoping in vain for the refuge of sleep.
A/N: I love writing Aurelia. I think about 80% of her dialogue and actions in this story are just her trolling people.
Honestly, this whole chapter I'm really happy with. I love harlequins, so putting them in there was fun, an exploration of aeldari mythology, the long-awaited reunification of Jian with her (now ex? maybe? not sure what they are at this point) girlfriend... it was a blast to work on.
What do you bet Jian has some kind of surprise waiting for her back at the Kabal of the Ashen Rose?