DISCLAIMER: In a quirky turn of events, it turns out that I do own an oil-rich patch of soil out in western Kansas, thanks to great Uncle Ron. However, it turns out that I do not own Tamora Pierce's Circle of Magic Books, thanks again to Uncle Ron. Damn Uncle Ron…
Hey all…ummm….late in coming, is that the phrase that I am looking for? Since I'm not making any money off of this, I don't feel to terribly bad about breaking my personal deadlines. Of course, disappointing my avid fans (because I have so many of them) does make me feel bad. To you, that one guy in the back, I am very sorry that this post took forever. Feel free to send any threatening emails to me at magdalena134@hotmail.com .
And as sure as a bride's choice of white is laughable, here it is!
East of the Alter
Ch. V
"O my Mother, you who bore me
surely there is cause for grieving
O my Mother, you who bore me
surely there is cause for grief."
-Kalevala, a Welsh folk tale
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. After Briar's encounter with Tris, she had sent out mind messages to each of them, asking in a polite yet restrained voice if they wouldn't bother her for the rest of the day, on account of her fragile state. All the others had assented to what she asked, each of them still mulling over and a bit frightened by the thought of Tris leaving.
The hours passed in a somewhat regular way for them, but upstairs, tucked away in the attic like a predecessor's heirlooms, the hours passed in a fickle way for the Trisana.
As night approached, the dark blues of the sky melting into the tawny browns of the sinking sun, meshing the earth and sky together so well that where one stopped and the other began was indistinguishable, Tris listened to the soft sounds of slumber that came from the house below her. She sat by her window and stared with intent on the beautiful display of colors before her, giving each detail such focus and attention, as if she were trying to lose herself into the sunset instead of her thought, or as if trying to memorize them. Or perhaps as if this would be her last time to see them. And in a way, it will be, she thought to herself, while her hand toyed with an idle lock of hair.
Tris had heeded Mila's warning, and in her first act of isolating herself, she had requested to be left alone for the day. It had worked, but as the day had worn on, she found that she had little to do, locked up in her room with only her thoughts and memories, or lack thereof, for company…and of course, her mind had strayed on those occasional thoughts…
Ask any merchant you can find, be him a merchant from the harsh inner-city, or hailing from a pleasant sea-cost, what the one greatest weakness of all merchant kind is, and he shall answer you the same way as all others shall: Temptation. Not greed, no, on the contrary, to a merchant greed is an essential quality, a quality one needs to be successful. Temptation, that yearning desire to always have what is just beyond one's reach, to take what you know you shouldn't have, that is the one true failing of a merchant. As is the same with Trisana.
After the boy, Briar as he called himself, had left her, she had quietly considered what he had said to her, not only with words, but with a few ill-timed glances. "You're memories, they…aren't with you at the moment," he had muttered, somewhere amongst his other mumbled sentences. Throughout the entire encounter, Tris had attentively watched him, noting with some interest that he oft-times glanced at the assortment of crystals that lay by her bed.
She had inched her way over towards them and tentatively placed her palm over one of the smaller ones. A flood of memories pierced through whatever barriers her mind had set up, and she experienced what can only be called to most extreme case of deja-vu. She watched, much akin to the way Briar had, a few select memories that crystals had stored within them before she decided to pull out.
Now that was queer, she thought to herself, eyeing her palm as she turned her hand in soft semicircles. It feels as though…as though…I love them. All of them.
That was what troubled Trisana's mind so as she sat in awe of the sun, the startling fact she had recalled over several hours ago. That she truly loved everyone who lived in this house, and that they all loved her. It seemed so simple to do what Mila asked of me…but how can I cut them out of my life, my spirit, now that I know that such an act would crush them? But how could I not? If I don't pull away from them, I could kill them all…hrrmph. Enough with all this. I am going to bed. The sun disappeared from the sky, leaving only darkness.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Wake up, Trisana. Do you feel as if you can walk?"
"Grrmph."
"Excellent response, dear gir-excellent response." Niko had just caught himself from letting the sentiment "dear girl" escape his lips. Remember, Niklaren, he told himself, you mustn't allow her to become affectionate. It had been six days since anyone had ventured up into Trisana's room, everyone thinking that it would be for the best to give her this remaining time alone. Or perhaps not so much everyone, but the dedicates from nearby temples who seemed to grace Discipline with their presence as often as the Sun did with hers. Niko's appearance in her room was a bit unexpected, and she forced herself to maintain a neutral-if not hostile-attitude towards it all.
"I'm Niklaren Goldeye, a teacher of sorts here at Winding Circle. You might remember my name, you might not."
Tris let out another snort and rolled on to her side, tangles of fiery hair ensnaring her face. "Lemme alone. Need sleep."
"Not now, Trisana. We both know you go off to the Council in a days time. It is time for you-for us both to prepare. I'll give you ten minutes to ready yourself."
She heard his light footsteps as he left, and she sat up in bed, only slightly aware of the state of her hair. Her horrendous hair maladies were a memory that the crystals had blessedly decided not to transfer. Remember, she coached herself as she went through the mechanical tasks of getting washed and dressed, act as if you still don't remember them. Act as if you do not love them. Act as if…as if you hate them.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Downstairs at the breakfast table all the others along with Frostpine were gathered, waiting for Lark to finish washing up so they could break fast together. Frostpine sat in Tris's chair, more out of necessity than want. After the first few days of Tris's absences from meals, everyone had found that having an empty spot served as only a blatant reminder of what was happening to Tris. They collectively decided that they needed a warm body to fill the spot, and Frostpine was more than happy to eat with them, not only for the company, but also because the forge lacked Dedicate Gorse's delectable specialties.
"Lark," Frostpine bellowed in his deep, basso voice, "if you don't hurry up with tidying yourself, I'm likely to take this yapping dog who's taken it upon himself to pester me, and eat him."
"Gods willing," Rosethorn muttered under her breath, narrowing her eyes at the hound. His tail slunked between his legs and he slid off to the corner, not being able to stand such harsh discrimination.
"We will be needing two more chairs," Niko commented as he walked down the stairs. All heads turned to stare at him, as he brushed some hair out of his eyes. "I've roused Trisana from her solitude. She needs to make preparations for tomorrow. She, along with myself, will be joining you all for breakfast."
A hush fell upon the room.
"Well, it's about time!" Lark cried out form the kitchen. "We need to see her face at least once before she goes. Rosethorn, will you help me set the extra places?"
The three young mages glanced at one another. ~You're the last one to see her, Briar,~ Daja asked, sending out her magick to the other two. ~Has she changed much, besides the memory thing?~
~I don't know Daj. I haven't seen her since. I'm guessing that she still has no remembrance of any of us, which I guess will make it easier for her to…forget us, so to speak.~
~So, should we ignore her when she comes down, or what are we supposed to do?~ Sandry asked, her blue eyes scanning Briar's green ones for an answer.
~I-I don't know. I don't think I'll be able to disregard her. I mean, no matter what's happening to her, she's still Tris.~
~You're right,~ Daja agreed, ~I think we should all unsamm'a jukwib'tsu - that's a Trader phrase…it roughly translates into 'play it by ear.'~
~Daj, no offense, but that makes no sense whatsoever.~ Briar responded, scooting his chair over to allow for more room.
"Shut up, Kaq-y head."
"Kakky head? OK, Daj, now you're just being immature?"
"I'm not too sure about that, Briar. It does seem to kind of fit. Oh, better yet, Kaq-y face," Sandry added.
"Or Kaq-y brain!"
"Or Kaq-y pants!"
Both girls paused, and then burst out into laughter.
"Oh Goddesses, Kaq-y pants! Sandry, that's excellent. I-I-" Daja couldn't even finish out her sentence, the fits of laughter were coming out of her so hard that she could hardly finish a breath.
"Girls," Briar muttered, fiddling with his napkin, "sometimes I don't even think that they're human."
"Me too," Tris responded, making her way down the stairs. Briar looked up to her, and his throat convulsed. There was Tris…and her hair looked magnificent. Since she didn't remember that she hated her hair, she hadn't bothered to try and comb out the curls when she had woken up, and the result was an astounding nestle of curls that seemed to snap with energy…except there was no lightening to be seen. That is, no lightening except for that which still lingered in her eyes, occasionally flashing every now and then.
Daja and Sandry's laughter soon died out, as they both fixed their attention on their friend. "Don't stop your merriment on my account. It's not as if I'd add to it at all." Oh, good one Tris. Remember, do not let them know that you remember. You do not like them. You hate them, you hate them… She repeated this silent mantra in her head a few more times, until she felt she had it ingrained within her.
The three were a bit taken back by her scathingly delivered comment, and they let a silence engulf the room while she and Niko took their seats. Once everyone was seated, Niko cleared his throat.
"Would anyone like to ask for the blessing?"
"I will," Tris said, eagerly volunteering.
"Mila of the Grain, please bless this food which You have grown for us, and may it strengthen the bodies of these strangers whom I see before me, and may it give me strength to venture home to meet you. By the Earth."
"By the Earth," everyone repeated, a little bit lackluster, though. Tris's blessing had served it's initial purpose: to try and put everyone off from her. The clatter of dishes being passed back and forth soon absorbed the silence, and polite conversation began making it's way around.
"How are the forges doing, Frostpine?"
"I suspect this winter will be a bitter one indeed."
"I saw the most marvelous loom-work when I was in town yesterday."
"The oregano is blooming wonderfully right now. Suspect it'll need harvesting soon."
Tris had kept her head bowed throughout all of the meaningless dribble and had kept her movements to a minimum, in the hope of being forgotten. When she reached for the sugar bowl, however, she did so at the same time as Briar, who was her juxtaposed companion, did. Her soft, small hand grazed his large, coarse one, and he caught her hand within his.
She felt tingles shoot through her body, followed by a light shiver. Her breath caught in her throat, as she was seized with the urge to swallow and gasp at the same time. She sharply looked up, only to see that his eyes were locked on her. They seemed to smolder, with some sort of intricate fire that burned so hit that she doubted Frostpine would know how to handle it. Under his gaze, she could feel her mantra of "I hate them" fading away as quickly as her heartbeats were speeding up.
Briar, in a daring action that he wouldn't usually fathom to attempt, slowly glided his long fingers across the back of her hand, softly, softly, making gentle circles, only applying enough pressure to send more tingles, this time much stronger, coursing through her body.
Tris ran her tongue over her now dry lips and closed her eyes. No, no, this has to stop. I can't let this happen. If I display any weakness, he could die. She opened her eyes and curtly withdrew her hand.
"Go ahead and help yourself to the sugar. I've lost my taste for it."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Throughout the meal Briar said little, instead opting for a position much like that of Tris's, listening with the occasional bob of the head. He half-heartedly gave his account of how the oregano was blooming, all the while thinking about Tris. She sat right next to him, but he couldn't muster up the courage to even turn to her and say something, anything.
Maybe it was because she would be leaving tomorrow, and he had so many different things he wanted to say to her. Maybe it was because this Tris that sat beside him still felt foreign to him, or maybe it was because he had had time to mull over his feelings for her, and he had come to the startling conclusion that he was in love with her.
Yes, he, Briar Moss, street rat, pick pocket, plant mage, was deeply, madly, searingly in love with Trisana Chandler, merchant's daughter, teenage spinster, weather mage, and soon to be Goddess.
He felt goofy just saying it in his head, and yet, to him, it felt right. He'd always been affectionate towards Tris, even when they were just children. He smiled as he remembered the jealousy that he had felt when Tris's cousin, Aymery, had come into town. Seeing Tris favor another boy, even though he was her own kin, more than him had made him extremely jealous, as if it was an indicator to the feelings he would one day have for her.
Now, with his feelings so clear to him, he was prohibited from telling them to Tris. That was what was really eating him up inside. If he told Tris how he felt, she would either not remember who he was, or worse yet, die during the Trials because of her attachment to him.
Why can't things just be simple? He thought to himself. Why can't this be just like a love-myth? I should just be able to grab her away and make my way off into the night. After all, I am 17. I shouldn't be afraid just to talk to her…no, I need an opportunity, that's all. I'm not a love-coward, I just need the right opportunity to express to her…oh, to the Dark Lands with it all, I need some sugar in my porridge!
He reached for the sugar, but instead of grasping a tiny clay pot, he found himself clutching onto the most exquisite porcelain hand he had ever laid eyes on. The feeling that that small amount of contact gave him was incredible. It was as if he suddenly became aware of every nerve on his body, and they all wanted the same thing; Tris.
He stared at her, hoping that his eyes would not betray the liquid passion that he had running through his veins. Her fiery head turned, and her gray eyes met his, occasionally flashing lightening at him. He could see the same want written in her eyes as well. Well, he said to himself, working up his courage, I was waiting for an opportunity.
Almost trembling, he slowly moved his fingers, drawing soft, sensual circles on the back of Tris's hand, delighting in the small jerks of pleasure that he felt Tris's hand go through. Never once did he take his eyes off of his Coppercurls, giving each detail of her body, of her face, her eyes, her hair, such focus and attention, as if he was trying to lose himself in the way Tris's red hair mimicked the rising sun, rebirth, a new day, or as if he was trying to memorize it.
He watched as Tris closed her eyes, and even before she opened them and spoke, he could sense a change over her. She curtly withdrew her hand from his.
"Go ahead and help yourself to the sugar. I've lost my taste for it."
Briar blinked, as a stab of pain and another more bitter, uglier emotion worked its way through him. He grabbed the sugar tightly and brought it back to his plate. Their entire encounter had lasted only a few seconds and had gone unnoticed to everyone else. Briar almost laughed at that. Perhaps the most important, most meaningful moment of his life so far, and it had gone unnoticed by everyone.
He continued to pour a liberal amount of sugar into his porridge, never raising his eyes to meet anyone else's.
"Everyone," Niko said in a clipped voice that commanded authority, "after breakfast is through, I'm going to have to ask you all to join Tris and me outside. When the sun is at its zenith, which will occur in about five hours time, we'll need to perform the, errm, separation ritual. We need to withdraw Tris from you all…completely."
"As in how completely?" Sandry asked, narrowing her eyes a bit.
"Do you recall when we separated all of your magicks from each other. We will be doing something akin to that, but a bit more…draining."
"Fine by me," Briar quipped, pushing his chair away from the table and wiping his hands on his pants. "The sooner we can remove this…this parasite from our life, the better we will all be for it."
Ouch, Briar. Ouch. Hmm…what'll happen next? Drop a REVIEW OR TWO, and perchance we'll find out.