The cool sheets were upon his skin, and the window was open. The meal had been eaten, the silence had remained upon the quartet, and night had fallen. He had kissed a girl today. Woodberry was dead. Perhaps it wasn't so bad of a day after all. The shakkan's shadow fell across Briar's face as his eyes fluttered closed and sleep brushed upon him.
There was a knock out the door.
Swearing, Briar sat up in his bed groggily. "Who is it?" he asked in a scratchy voice.
The person did not answer. Instead, the door swung open, and Sandry stood in the doorframe, her features illuminated by the sparkling crystal she held in her hand. Still, in the dark it took him a moment to see her face clearly. He let out a slow breath when he realized that the look on her face was completely malicious.
"What do you want?" he asked grudgingly, falling back onto his mattress.
"Oh, Briar, don't act as if I've come to behead you. I just wanted to – talk to you," Sandry explained, entering the room and kneeling at the side of his bedding.
"It's the same thing," he protested. "Can't you wait 'til daybreak to execute me? I'd love one more night's sleep before you pry me to death." He rolled over, turning his back to her.
She grabbed his shoulder and rolled him back. "Nonsense. There's not much to say now, is there?" Sandry asked rhetorically. "I mean – well, a great deal has been said without having to be said, if you know what I mean."
Briar looked up into her face, meeting her shining crystalline eyes. He read her meaning and nodded in a small manner. "I do think I know what you mean, Duchess."
Sandry rocked back a bit, pleased by this. She combed her fingers through her hair, somewhat out of vanity, somewhat out of anxiousness. "Well, that being said, you understand that I won't need to keep you from your beauty sleep for long," she commented in a matter-of-fact tone. She lowered her voice a tad. "I didn't even know you – felt that way about Tris."
"And now the inquisition begins," Briar muttered, letting out a breath. "If I had told you, you would have gabbed."
"I would not have," Sandry replied, smiling and seeming to put up very little fight. "She never mentioned anything to me about it, either. But, then again, I wouldn't expect her to." Sandry traced her fingers around the curves of her light crystal. "How long has it been since you started being attracted to her?"
"You ask hard questions," Briar said steadily, staring at the light hitting his ceiling. "I – I don't really know."
"And how long has it been since you started kissing her?" Sandry asked, leaning forward in a curious, fox-like manner.
"Since just before you walked in on us," Briar retorted, giving her a little glare. "You didn't fool me with that excuse of yours."
Sandry nodded and gave a little shrug. "I never thought that you would. It was a very bad excuse. If I'd had a few moments to compose myself, I could have given you a much better and much more believable excuse," she said. "I told Daja about it, too, if you don't mind. She would have figured it out eventually anyway, you know. I thought I had better soften the blow for her."
Briar made a face at her. "You're not really upset with us, are you?"
Sandry laughed, her voice as innocent as always. "Of course not, Briar. Truth be told, I had thought that it was due time that you and Tris each fell in love. I didn't think it would be with each other, but that's not the point. The point is that – well, romance, and that sort of thing is to be expected from all of us at this age. I could never be angry at you for that normal occurrence."
"Good to know," he answered simply. "Have you blabbered to anyone else?"
"No," she told him. "But, well, I think Lark will pick up on it rather quickly. She has that motherly intuition and all."
"As always."
"What do you think she will say?" Sandry asked. "And what about Rosethorn?"
Briar thought on this. "I think Lark will try to give Tris a speech about love, and me a speech about respect. And then Rosethorn will make a rude comment on the whole thing, make us blush, and threaten to hang us in the well if we don't behave," he answered.
"Perfectly worded," Sandry replied with a laugh. "Shall I leave you to your beauty sleep?"
"Please do. It takes worth, getting a face like this every day. And if you go upstairs to chatter to Daj', could you try to keep it down a bit?" Briar said, rolling over to not face her.
"How did you know I was going to go tell her?" Sandry replied, amused as well as perplexed.
"Magic," he said. She laughed and stumbled to her feet. With a cheery salute, she bade him good night, and sweet dreams, too. She whisked her way out of the room, closing the door behind her with little more than a tap.
---
Slumber was peaceful for Briar. He dreamed of his shakkan growing very mighty, as big as an oak, and of sunlight scattered through its leaves. With the sunlight, ironically, there came to him a distinctly awful, foreboding feeling that he could not shake. Perhaps it was the instincts revived from his thieving days; but when Lark shook him awake in the morning, he already knew that there was something terribly wrong.
"Out of bed," said Lark with a shake that was uncharacteristically lacking in tenderness. Her face was blank, as is a mud wall.
"What's the matter?" said Briar in a hushed voice.
"Go sit at the table for now, and I'll tell you after I wake up Sandry," Lark replied. "Go on."
Briar exited his room, made his way to the kitchen, and sat on the bench idly. Tris and Daja were there already, looking both glum and afraid. He noted that Tris's face was particularly pale. "Do you have any idea what's going on?" he asked the girls.
Daja looked as though she had nearly drowned again. Her face was fearful. She cast a quick glance at Tris, who seemed too calloused to hear anything. "I think it has something to do with Niko," she said gravely.
Briar's stomach leapt up his throat. "What about the medicine that Rosie gave him?"
"I don't know," said Daja with a small shrug that seemed to take a great deal of effort. "Lark didn't say a word to us about it. That's only what we're guessing; but, it does seem logical."
Presently, Lark and Sandry came down the stairs. Sandry looked worse than all of them; her hair was wild around her head, and her eyes sparkled with a desire to know and a fear of the answer. She was busy asking questions while Lark repeatedly asked her to sit down.
Sandry sat deliberately at the end of the table, leaning forward with worry cast like a shadow on her face. Lark sat at the other end with a face that was very, very long. "I thought I should tell you all together," Lark said cautiously. "It's – it's about Niko. Last night, his condition worsened."
"I knew it," whispered Tris. Daja turned a bit, startled; she had not heard Tris say anything all morning.
Sandry made a face. "What do you mean, 'his condition worsened'?"
Lark paused. She hadn't wanted to go there. She said, "He started to cough up blood again… vomiting blood, too. It got to be so bad that he could hardly breathe at all, and he passed out. Moonstream had to come in, jolt him to life with her magic … it was all very, very bad."
"He almost died, didn't he?" Sandry whispered in a hushed voice. The sun slipped through the window, striking her in the eyes as a tear made its way down her cheek.
Lark nodded gravely. "Rosethorn was up all night, reading, looking for herbal remedies for the cough – but she told me not to wake you, Briar," Lark interjected. "She wanted you to sleep, get rested, not worry. And she didn't find anything that worked, anyway. Regardless, he's been sent off to the medical center at Lightsbridge."
Sandry promptly burst into tears, burying her face into her hands. Daja reached out to touch her shoulder, but Sandry did not settle down and continued to sob hysterically.
"Is he going to be alright?" Briar asked softly.
Lark paused. "I don't know," she said quietly. "If there's anyplace in the world that can help Niko, it's going to be Lightsbridge."
"And what if they can't do anything?" Sandry gasped between her tears. "What if he dies?"
"Don't talk like that!" Lark said quickly, a bit harshly. Her nerves were obviously completely shot; she sunk back on her seat, somewhat embarrassed for snapping at her former student. Sandry silenced almost immediately, her cries muffled by taut lips, and a tense quiet fell over the room. After a moment, the Hub clock started to chime its melody across the temple city.
"Moonstream will take you to the earth's core instead today, and she will probably continue to do so until Niko gets back," Lark said in a quiet voice. The door swung open, and Rosethorn stood in the kitchen, her face very pale and serious. For one of the few times in their lives, they saw tears running down her face.
"Something awful has happened," she said. "Briar, you'll want to come with me – all of you can, if you want to."
Briar rose from his seat, clambering over the bench gracelessly. "What's going on?" he asked tentatively. The others followed him out the door.
Rosethorn was wordless, but she beckoned with her hands. They cut across the winding road that gave the temple city its name, and their clothes whipped around in the ice cold morning breeze. Briar could see a large crowd gathered not far from them; the others noticed it as well. The skyline above it seemed different than usual; there was a great bit of trees missing from the horizon.
"It's the wooded spot where you like to go," Sandry whispered to Tris. Tris nodded as they neared it.
Sandry, Tris, Daja, and Lark pushed up, near the object of the audience's attention. Rosethorn pushed through the crowd, grabbing Briar's arm and pulling him into the center of the circle that their audience had made.
Briar gasped. A large oak tree, which had certainly been living for thousands of years, had toppled over. Its roots reared in the air, like a horse with too many legs. It had dragged down with it several other smaller trees. They had crushed the bench there. The stream that flowed through the area had been completely dammed off, causing all of the stream's water to flood the grass there. He took a step closer; the soil was overly moist below his feet. He saw a glint a few feet ahead of him; the glass that Tris had made in the dirt from her lightning bolt had cracked, broken through by a heavy fallen tree limb.
"It didn't storm hard last night," Briar said to Rosethorn in a bit of a protest. "What pushed it over?"
Rosethorn gave him a sideways glance. "Go look at the roots on the big tree."
Briar wandered over to look at it; a few other Earth-dedicates were also standing there, staring at the roots quizzically. The frayed ends rose above him several feet, looming, as though the tree might right itself and crash back down on his head. The young mage peered close; the roots seemed to have open sores on them, oozing. Their condition reminded him of the plants at the laboratory, only less severe.
Briar put a hand on the roots, gently. The pain screamed inside of his head, gnawing; he felt as though his own feet were dissolving under him, and he fell to his knees, still with his hands on the roots. And, behind all the screaming, Briar heard a quiet voice; it was a voice that did not fight, did not yell, but only cried slowly as it died away.
A set of hands pulled him away, making him fall onto his back. He looked up through cloudy eyes to see the towering form of Dedicate Crane over him, hovering like a hawk. Crane pushed a canteen into his hands; Briar drank the water quickly, tipping the canteen back and letting droplets fall from the corners of his mouth.
"I think it just died," Briar said as Crane took the canteen from him.
Crane nodded seriously. "That tree was here for as long as I can remember," he said in a low voice. The look in his eyes was distant, appalled. He shook his head, letting the sense tumble back into it and the emotional attachment fall out. "Go talk to Rosethorn about what she wants you to do."
Briar rose, but his whole body ached. He still felt as though he had been uprooted. His legs wobbled under him, but somehow he managed to find Rosethorn talking to a handful of other dedicates. He met her eyes; he saw the sadness that resided in her eyes, too. She stepped away from her companions to speak with him.
"I thought that things were getting better," he said in an anxious voice. "When we went to the earth's core recently, it had grown. This doesn't make any sense."
Rosethorn gave a sideways glance once again. "I'm not a woman who often gossips," she said in a warning way. "But I'll tell you this. There is always a guard at the earth's core who watches it for someone who might come to steal it. The guard last night was a dedicate from here; apparently his physical state was in a cottage nearby, while his magical body was at the earth's core. Outside of the cottage, there was a guard – an actual solider – to protect him. Someone told me that, this morning, they found the guard and the solider, both dead."
"That means someone came in the night to kill them – and to get into the earth's core," Briar said with fear written on his face.
"I haven't seen for myself," Rosethorn told him, "but a few other dedicates who went down said that the core was depleted even more so than before. Still – it may not be true. It may just be rumor, so don't go and tell anyone."
Briar nodded dumbly. "And is that why this must have happened?"
"Maybe," Rosethorn responded. "We haven't had any reports of other problems like this – not yet."
Briar's face fell. "What do we do now?" he said in a mere whisper.
Rosethorn sighed. "Moonstream would, under normal circumstances, use fire to burn the dead trees. But, after this, she's afraid that we might lose power over the fire, or something to that extent. In that case, she wants us to try and decompose the trees naturally."
Briar made a startled face; he had never done anything like this before. "Am I included in doing this?" he asked.
"Yes, is he?" asked a voice behind him. Crane stood there with an eyebrow cocked.
"Of course he is. Why else would I have brought him here?" Rosethorn shot back.
"He's only a boy," Crane protested in a monotonous voice.
"He's a mage," Rosethorn said simply and angrily. "I don't care how old he is, but he has the capability to do the same thing as any of these older mages. In fact, he's better than some of them. We need all the help we can get. Don't turn this into a matter of pride, Crane, not at a time like this."
Crane turned on his heel and stalked away.
Briar and Rosethorn met eyes for a moment, and they had a split second of mutual understanding. That's my Rosie, he thought, proud and simultaneously abashed at the praise from his former teacher. The instant passed, and they joined the other mages to begin the process.
It was quicker than Briar had expected it would be, but no less dramatic. Moonstream came before them, giving detailed directions, giving examples, while a handful of other mages warded the area. They did a brief exercise, exhaling, focusing. All of the mages, young Briar included, raised their hands towards the fallen trees. The image of it was firm in his mind; he saw it like an old man fallen on a battlefield, its feet calloused. He saw it settle from rigor mortis in his mind's eye; he saw it seeping into the earth.
The trees grew soft, the bark became damp, and the leaves began to wither and fall. Slowly, painfully, they began to decompose, turning from light brown to dark brown to black, to soot. Briar was nearly blinded from the silver all around him, glittering on the trees, traces of the magic that surrounded him. He felt his magic pouring from him, like milk onto his oatmeal, flowing across the trees' limbs and breaking it down. He ran his magic along the roots of the great oak, and they splintered and softened. The smell in the air of the oozing wounds made him somewhat queasy, but they degraded to drip into the soil. It was only a few minutes until all that was left where the trees had been was dirt, dark between the grass.
It was then that Briar's knees gave. Several other mages around him began to wobble and collapse as well. He thought he heard one vomiting from the procedure. The last thing he heard before he passed out was Moonstream yelling for healers.
---
At Discipline, Briar awoke to a very scorching sun in his eyes. He saw his shakkan on the windowsill ledge, looking crippled from the heat. He made to get up, but his stomach churned and his eyes became glazed over, and he fell back onto his mat, moaning.
Lark entered, bearing a sweet-smelling tea. "So, you've woken up," she said soothingly. She knelt by his mat. "Drink this; it should make you feel less dizzy."
He wasn't sure if he was up to holding the cup himself. Clumsily, he managed to sip the hot liquid. "Could you take my shakkan down from the shelf and put it on the floor there, in the shade? It looks – bad," he said between sipping the drink. Lark did so, shaking her head.
"I think it's the sun, partially. But I also think it's –" Briar paused. "Rosie said that someone stole from the Earth's core last night."
Lark gave him a glance. "I suppose you would have found out anyway; and, well, you're old enough to know everything," she said calmly. "It's been verified; while you were sleeping, Moonstream made a formal announcement to all the dedicates, and messenger birds have gone to relay the news."
Briar gave a small nod. "How long have I been out?" he asked.
Lark shrugged. "Four hours, give or take," she responded. At this, the Hub clock struck one in the afternoon.
Briar whistled. "And where are the others?" he asked, taking another mouthful of the tea.
"They've gone with Moonstream – Rosie went, too," said Lark. "They're going to the earth's core to start the exercise again. Of course, you're too weak to do so, and you'll probably be out of service for a few days."
Briar sighed. "I wish I could do something," he whined. He looked at his favorite plant in the corner; it rustled dully, and parts of it were going brown again. "I feel silly, sitting here in bed, able to do nothing."
Lark put a hand on his own. "Is the tea helping?" she asked. He nodded to say that it was. "Well," Lark interjected, "if you sit for a few minutes and feel a little better, then you can come into the kitchen and help me cut bandages for when your friends get back in an hour. Goodness knows, Tris would appreciate it most of all."
Briar smiled fondly. "That's more like it," he said.
---
Slightly less than an hour later, Daja and Rosethorn carried a fainting Tris into the kitchen, followed by a frantic, anxious Sandry.
"It was awful, Lark," she said in between sobs. "Oh, Briar, if you had seen it, too, you would have been scared, even! It was so small, like the width of that oak tree that had fallen. It didn't look frightening or intimidating at all, like you could capture it in a net – oh, it made me so afraid to look at it. It made me so hopeless." Her hands were quivering, and she looked pale from the experience as well as the blood loss.
Lark sat her down forcefully while she chattered. "I'll be going tomorrow, probably," she said. "Now, sit still. Stop moving your hands when you talk."
"Tris nearly lost it when we were down there," Sandry went on. "I think she got so afraid and so determined when she saw it that she poured in more magic than she could handle. I even tried to use my smelling salts on her, and she didn't do anything but bat her eyelashes a bit and mumble!"
Rosethorn took over. "She doesn't need smelling salts, that's why," she said somewhat brutally. "She needs smelling herbs, and something to sip when she wakes up." Briar had dragged out his mattress for her to lie on, and Rosethorn and Daja put her there.
Daja had worked up a terrible sweat, and the whites of her eyes gleamed in her face, as if she were a skittish horse. "Briar, I hope you don't have to go for a few days," she said. "You don't want to go."
"I do," Briar said, but he was certain that he wouldn't think so after he had gone. "Here, let me start to bandage Tris up; Lark helped me to brush up on my bandaging skills." He knelt next to her, lying in his bed, although hardly peacefully. He sensed her, weak within his mind. Taking her hands in his own, he could see that she had cut her hands deeply, much more deeply than usually. Perhaps she had said the spell too forcefully. He began to wrap the gauze around them and secured the padding.
Sandry had finished, and so Daja took her place. Still, Sandry talked. "This has been the worst day," she cried, slamming her padded hands onto the table. "First, Niko nearly dies, and then Briar faints and scares all of us, and then we find out that the earth's core has shrunken, and now Tris is lying here, looking terrible!"
Rosethorn entered back into the kitchen in a whirl, having retrieved some herbs from the half-dead garden. "Perhaps these will do some good to Tris," she said.
"Rosie, there's some tea left by the fire for when she wakes up," Lark said, finalizing the bandages on Daja's right hand. "It's left over from when I gave it to Briar, but there should be enough for a cup."
Rosethorn nodded in acknowledgement. Crouching, she waved the strong-smelling herbs under Tris's nose. Tris sneezed and made to sit up. "What was --?" she started to ask, but then she felt her stomach lurch. "Oh, gods, I feel ill."
Sandry was already there with the tea. "Drink this," she commanded. "It'll help, Lark and Rosethorn say." Sandry held it to her mouth and Tris drank it feebly while Briar finished up the bandages on her hands.
"You used too much magic," Rosethorn said calmly, coming back with the kettle for Tris's emptied cup. "Moonstream said that you overreached so badly that you might be drained for days."
"That makes two of us," Briar added with a grim smile. Tris met his eyes for the first time, connecting, seeing his affections written there. "Although, Rosie, I really do feel fine."
"You won't trick me, boy," Rosethorn shot back with a shake of her head, pouring into the cup that Sandry held. "See if you can handle your own cup, now, Tris." She was able to do so, and Tris felt much better at being able to feed herself.
Briar rocked back and stood up. "C'mon, Rosie, let me fix your hands up." She sighed and looked at her palms. The cuts had started to dry, but from carrying Tris and pulling up plants in the yard, they had split open, leaving blood between the lines of her hands. The wounds were also fairly dirty. Submissive for once in her life, Rosethorn sat next to Briar at the table and let him rinse the wound with a plant solution, wincing as it stung.
"I guess we have put some manners into you," Rosethorn admitted, cracking half of a smile.
---
Night had fallen, and Rosethorn and Lark sat at the kitchen table. The young mages had all fallen asleep early, exhausted both physically and emotionally. On the table, there were several carrots, swollen and filthy at the root, and several sported gruesome sores.
"None of these are edible," Rosethorn told her friend. She rolled one across the wooden paneling towards Lark, who shook her head in disgust. "Some of the plants are alright – the tomatoes are, and so are some of the herbs I've been growing. But, potatoes, carrots, anything with roots is completely bad for eating. It won't be long until the earth's disease works its way up to the tops of the other plants and destroys them, too."
"Tomorrow, do you plan to pick them early, before they can get any sicker?" Lark asked.
"I do. I'm afraid they might rot quickly, though," Rosethorn responded.
Lark put her head on her folded arms, resting on the table. "What are we going to eat, Rosie? Are we going to starve?"
"I don't know."
Lark sat up, huffing anxiously. "Well, we should be able to make plenty of bread; we have enough stores of already-processed grain to last us for a while, and at that stage, it probably won't decompose. And, if butchers are smart, they'll start to smoke and preserve their meat. And certainly, we can import tropical fruit from tall trees, like coconuts or bananas, that maybe won't go bad for a while."
"That sounds like quite a diet," Rosethorn remarked dryly.
Lark nodded. There was a silence before the Hub bell rang for midnight; Lark and Rosethorn looked at each other from across the table. Both were tired, weary women; both were sick of seeing their children grow to be afraid, to learn to fight, to lose their dreams. Lark had crow's feet prominently at the corners of her eyes, and Rosethorn's mannish haircut was streak with gray around her temples.
Rosethorn stood. "Let's go back to our dorms," she said.
Lark rose, too. "I'll help you pick the plants tomorrow," she added.
---
Daja closed the letter. "They said that Niko's doing very well; he still has that cough, but he's stable. Apparently, he wants to come back here as soon as possible to keep working, but he still might not be here for several days until they're sure he won't fall sick again," she said, handing the note to Lark. The letter had been delivered a few minutes ago by messenger birds from Lightsbridge.
Lark gave a relieved sigh, as did Briar, Rosethorn, Tris, Sandry, and Daja around the breakfast table. "I'll feel much better once Niko is back again," she said. "It feels empty and incomplete without him here."
"Besides, we need all the help we can get," said Rosethorn. "It doesn't help that Raeldro is leaving this evening, too."
"He's leaving?" Sandry gasped. "Where is he going?"
"He's going to Emelan for a few days. He and the Duke are going to see what can be done about farmers' crops, which are having a large amount of difficulty," Rosethorn replied.
"He never told me that," Sandry said, stirring her oatmeal. "I think I'll have to go see him before he goes."
"Well, you and Daja have to go to the earth's core today again," Tris begged. "Briar and I simply can't; but they need you still."
Sandry turned her head towards Tris. "Of course I'll go. My duty, foremost, is to the earth that houses me, feeds me, clothes me, gives me life and magic. I wouldn't abandon my duty, not ever," she told her friend. "I'll put in a little extra for you, too."
"Oh, don't go so far as to do that," Tris warned. "You'll exhaust yourself, and then you'll be out of commission, too, and that wouldn't be any good. Could you pass me the strawberries, please, Daja?"
Daja took the bowl of them and passed them to the other end of the table. Tris had started to scoop some onto her cereal when she noticed that some of them had become a dark red color, much darker than they should be. "Perhaps I shouldn't eat these. Look. They look bad, and they're going brown," she pointed out, passing around the bowl. She then proceeded to remove them from her breakfast plate.
"That's not good," Briar said with a shake of his head. "They looked perfectly fresh ten minutes ago when I sliced them up. They were bright red, smelled fresh, tasted sweet." He passed the bowl to Rosethorn.
Rosethorn and Lark met eyes briefly. "If you already ate them, you might be a little queasy, but they shouldn't do you too much harm," she said calmly. "But I wouldn't eat these, of course."
Tris shoved her bowl away. "They turned my food green! Look at it!" Even though she had removed the strawberries, the ooze they had leaked had left her food a sallow color, turning darker at the edge of the bowl.
"I think I'm going to be sick!" Sandry cried, covering her eyes dramatically.
Lark shook her head. "Come on now. No, you won't. Just don't look at it, alright?" Still, Sandry went visibly pale.
---
It was shortly before four in the afternoon. Lark, Rosethorn, Daja, and a somewhat ill Sandry had gone off with Moonstream to the Hub, where they did the procedure for restoring power to the earth's core. That left Tris and Briar alone, lying on the mattress in Briar's room, watching the shakkan shrivel up and die as ribbons of light touched upon it.
"I still have been giving it that plant food, but it's stopped working. I think that it's gone – immune, or something. It's just not right," Briar stated, running his hands over the branches. Tris watched his arms move and ripple, his hands touching it lovingly. "I don't think that there's any hope for it living anymore."
"I'm sorry," Tris said. "I know that it means a world to you."
"Well, it does. But I would be more upset if something happened to a person," Briar said, drawing his arm around the pot and holding it against his chest. "When Niko was sent away yesterday morning, I knew. I could just feel it. It felt horrible, and I was so afraid – what if he had died?"
"I don't know what I would have done. I don't know what everyone would have done," Tris responded, touching the dying plant, too. "He means so much to so many people. He's vital in saving the earth."
Briar turned to Tris and ran his hands over her hair. "He's been like a father to you – to all of us, actually, but especially to you." He looked at her hands. "Are your bandages alright? Do you need me to change them?"
Tris shook her head. "They'll be fine. They don't hurt or anything like that. I just want to stay here, for now."
"It's a peaceful moment," Briar admitted. "And, for once, we won't get interrupted." He gave her a smirk.
Tris raised an eyebrow at him, matching his smirk with one of her own. "We're ill, Briar Moss. We're out of service. Certainly we ought to be resting, getting back our strength so that we can help out once again," she said, leaning in towards him a bit, feeling his sheets rustle underneath her.
"We are in a bed," Briar argued. "Certainly that counts for something."
"I wouldn't call this a bed," Tris shot back. She laid back, staring at the ceiling. "I have to admit, it is comfortable down here."
Briar leaned over her, blocking out her view of the ceiling. "Well, make yourself comfortable, Coppercurls," he whispered in a husky voice into her ear. "Because I am going to take advantage of the freedom that we have right now. Rosie's not yelling at us, Sandry's not waltzing in on us, nobody's gabbering and annoying us. I think we ought to – seize the day." He pressed his mouth on hers, softly, then more firmly. She slithered under his weight, liking the feel of his firm chest against hers, the way he tasted like freshness and Lark's mint tea.
Her hair splayed against his hands, and her own bandaged ones pulled him close. Her fingers, the only part of her hands that were bare, tickled the nape of his neck. He moved his kisses down her neck, to her ear, to her collarbone, making Tris shiver and tremble.
The Hub clock chimed loudly for four o'clock. Briar jumped, breaking their kiss. Tris stared back at him with her glasses askew. There was a moment of emptiness between them as the clock rang again, and they surrendered to laughter for the first time in days.
---
Sandry walked with her hands wrapped in those of Raeldro across Winding Circle's famous road. Usually, one might cut across it for the shorter approach; they did not do so, but they leisurely meandered down the path in circles upon the circles. Sandry had finished her exercise for the day, and, though she was tired, she did not want to let Raeldro leave without her saying farewell to him. Their bandages alone touched each other.
"Rumor has it that you're leaving here," Sandry said quietly.
"Rumor does not lie, not this time," Raeldro admitted thoughtfully. "I won't be long, though. I am only going to Emelan to speak with Duke Vedris."
Sandry gave him a sideways glance. "Did you know that Duke Vedris is my uncle? I spent the last few years with him," she said.
"Oh, I knew that. Perhaps you have guessed that my intentions in going to Emelan are not singular, Duchess," Raeldro responded mysteriously.
Sandry stopped in the pathway. "I thought that you were going to discuss the state of farmers in the country," Sandry said questioningly. "Or am I mistaken?"
"Perhaps you have not guessed then," he responded with a small smile. "No, you are not mistaken, my dear. I am going for that purpose. But, you do understand, that I am interested in more things than simply magic, the state of plants, the condition of the earth. I am not a man of one passion."
"I understand that," Sandry agreed with a nod. "But I still don't understand what exactly you mean."
Raeldro took her hand, and they resumed their walk along the pathway. "I care for you a great deal, Sandry. I mean to say – I care about you incredibly, more than I've cared about anyone before in my life. Do you understand that much?" he asked her, giving her an occasional, somewhat nervous glance.
"I do," she replied with a small blush.
"Then, it should not be a surprise to you that I also go to Emelan to – to announce our relationship to your uncle, at court." This time it was Raeldro who stopped on the pathway, looking at her.
Sandry's eyes widened in shock. For a man to announce his relationship with a woman at court, formally, was very significant. They would be considered a noble couple at all court events, for one. However, the more important thing was the level of commitment it took to do so. In doing so, Raeldro would express his sincerity in his relations with Lady Sandry, and he would profess a fealty to her well-being. All in all, it was a binding sort of thing, and it meant that he truly cared for her deeply.
It meant that he was extremely serious about her.
His hazel eyes pierced her once before he kissed her slowly, tenderly. Sandry's mind reeled at the touch of his lips. Another question was answered inside of her head. Did she truly love Raeldro, really, honestly? And the response in her mind was a resounding "yes." She did not know why she felt the way she did; she did not understand love at all. However, she knew that he made her feel unreal.
Their kiss broke. "It would make me so happy if you did that," she said. A beautiful smile cracked its way across his face. In a swift motion, he picked her up and twirled her around in a way that was uncharacteristic of him. Sandry had not known that she could make him so happy. Her dress fanned out behind her, and her veil billowed in the breeze like wings.
Tears fell down her face as Raeldro set her down. "I love you," she said with finality, sniffling. "Raeldro, I – really love you." A look of utter amazement fell like a shadow on his face, and he took her in his arms again, more seriously.
"Oh, Duchess," he cooed, "how did I ever become so lucky as to have you?"
---
"What's cooking?" asked Sandry as she entered the house. Tris and Briar, both looking somewhat rumpled, were moving around the kitchen. Briar saw her and smiled.
"Bag, how about you start pouring drinks?" he asked her with mock rudeness. He made a grin at her and bent to get the bread from out of the fire. "I hope you like bread and noodles," he told her, "because we will more than likely be having it for quite some time."
"Why is that?" Sandry asked, going to the coldbox to get the milk.
"Rosethorn says that grain is one of the few foods that hasn't spoiled, grown festering sores, or turned overripe," Briar explained. "Therefore, we will be eating a great deal of food with grain in it until this world gets better."
Tris made a grunting noise of disapproval. "And everyone is going to start filling up on the alcohol, too," she added on with a scowl. "The one thing that people don't need more of is an excuse to drink. First, the world is coming to an end, and then there happens to be only one kind of liquid that can be consumed."
"Well, there is water, too," Daja said, entering with clean dishes and silverware. "And that is certainly all we'll be having tonight."
"We could make tea," Briar said. "Lark and Rosie aren't coming to eat tonight with us, but they did leave us some packets to make soothing herbal tea with. They smell wonderful."
"I think we ought to save it. Nothing should be too stressful tonight," Tris responded.
You might get stressed, Tris, after I tell you about what just happened between myself and Raeldro, Sandry thought to herself. However, she would not say a word until later.
The table was set out with plates and forks, napkins were distributed, and the food was placed in bowls in the middle. Daja and Sandry sat across from Briar and Tris, who held hands briefly under the table. They bowed their heads, thanked their gods for the little bit of something they had, and promptly, hungrily, began the meal.
"How is the earth's core today?" asked Briar conversationally.
"Not any better," said Sandry before taking a bite of her bread.
Daja finished chewing before she added, "It doesn't look any better or any worse than it did yesterday. I suppose that no news can be good news, in a way. Still, you know that Niko said it sometimes takes a few days for the earth's core to process and replenish itself. Perhaps by tomorrow or the next day, we will see a difference."
"And we'll be able to get back to work," Tris muttered restlessly.
Sandry smirked. "And what did you two do while we were gone?"
Tris scowled, embarrassed. "We stayed with his shakkan. It's doing badly, you know," she responded evasively.
"Oh, so you were both in Briar's room? Alone?" Sandry teased.
"Oh, come off it, Sandry!" Briar said, somewhat vexed. "When I told you about Tris and myself, I didn't think you were going to use it against me!"
Tris looked startled. "When did you tell her?"
Briar sighed, setting down his fork. "I didn't really tell her. She knew, of course, because she's Sandry and she knows everything. But, the night before Niko fell – fell more ill, she came in and pestered me with a million questions and wouldn't let me sleep until I confessed. And then she ran up, told Daj' – now, certainly, the whole world knows."
"I only told Daja!" Sandry protested. She reached over for another piece of bread.
Daja pointed to her thumb. "Saati, what's that red ribbon tied around your wrist?"
Sandry pulled back her hand, putting it on her lap so that no one could see the topic of discussion. Blushing, she tried to hide her face with the other bandaged hand. "It's just a thing that nobles do," she responded nonchalantly. "You know, it's nothing of any interest."
Briar, vengefully, leaned forward inquisitively. "What noble tied it on you?" he asked.
"Raeldro," Sandry replied with an anxious glance towards an unsurprised Tris.
"And what's the meaning of such a ribbon?" Daja asked. "Traders wear red for mourning, but don't other people use it to represent passion, or love?" Her voice was teasing, completely not expecting what Sandry was about to confess.
She exhaled deeply. "Nobles wear it when their romances are due to be announced at court," she explained.
Tris gasped; she alone knew the significance of such an announcement, as it had been a common custom in Ninver as well. Briar and Daja looked somewhat confused, but Sandry was so embarrassed that she could not explain without getting flustered.
"It means," Tris began to explain, "that Raeldro is very serious about her. It means that, at all court functions, they are to be announced together, seated together, and considered a couple that is romantically involved. He makes a pledge to her, swearing on his honor as a noble, and such and such. I don't understand the whole thing – but you really have to be in a meaningful, potentially eternal relationship to do so. It is a sign of real commitment to Sandry."
"Excuse me for being uncivilized," Briar responded with wide eyes.
"Does it have a charm, too?" Tris asked. Sandry, blushing still, held up her wrist; from the ribbon there dangled a silver charm with the initial "R" on it. Sandry then removed it so that she could pass the ribbon to Daja and Briar.
"Impressive," Tris murmured. Perhaps he does care for her after all, thought Tris grudgingly.
Daja cocked her head at Sandry, passing the ribbon to Briar. "Does this mean that he – he loves you?" she asked. "I mean, this must mean that this is more than a fling to him."
"I hadn't been sure, not until tonight. I had thought, maybe this will end. Maybe he will forget me. But not now. He – really does care about me a great, great deal to do this," Sandry explained. Her eyes brimmed with unexpected tears.
Daja smiled. "I'm happy for you, saati," she said with a nod.
Sandry, in a moment of pride, beamed at Daja. "And you told me that he could never love me, that we weren't on the same level, that we could never connect. And look now! He's telling of his love for me to all the nobles of Summersea," she said, smiling. Her tone was not accusatory, but playful, laughing, joyous.
"I surrender," Daja said, throwing her hands up. "I'm glad I'm wrong, but only for this once."
"I suppose it's a pretty trinket," Briar admitted, handing the red ribbon back to his foster sister. "Just be careful you don't drop it down the well."
---
Night had come. Tris and Briar laid, intertwined, on the hard, crisp thatching of the roof, watching a clouded moon pass over their heads, feeling the icy wind against their skin. His whispers to her faded easily, so they spoke via the mind-link, eyes meeting, words unspoken.
So, Sandry and Raeldro are more than a weeklong romance, Briar thought, softly, in her mind. What do you think of that?
I will give him credit; he's got to mean it if he's going to Vedris' court. You don't know how big of a deal it is to go to the royal court to announce your romance, Briar, Tris responded. It's like announcing you're going to become a dedicate. It's like announcing you're going to attend school at Lightsbridge. I – I really am happy that someone's that sincere about her.
But you don't like him, even still. Briar stroked her hair.
No, I still don't like him. But if he makes Sandry happy – what could I do about that? Would I ever want to act on that? No, not unless I really knew he was a bad man.
Briar kissed her cheek. I'd announce about us in court, if I was a Bag.
Tris smiled at him. Thank the gods that you aren't, she responded. I can only take one Bag in my life, and Sandry has filled that position already.
Briar leaned back and stared at the stars. The sky looks cloudy; the stars have gone dim, he said softly. He looked at her.
Tris looked up, too. She knew that the reason for it was that the air was full of smog, full of abnormal gases, thick with clouds sometimes. I don't want to think about it. Just – let's just be together, and forget it.
Briar didn't say another thing, but kissed her cheek, and the wind blew cold.
---
Several days passed. The routine became very standard. At morning, they would rise with the toll of the Hub's bell at eight o'clock. They made breakfast, which usually consisted of over-processed cereal and bread. After the morning chores, at about ten o'clock, they would go with Moonstream and perform the exercise. Not once did the core seem to change its size, depressingly enough. After a few days, Tris and Briar had rejoined the activity. They would then return to Discipline, often bearing a sickly Tris, and bandage themselves up. They would eat the midday meal. The afternoon would be spent on more chores.
Briar, being very familiar with such a process, would sometimes go find Rosethorn, and together they would work to prepare solutions to use for bandaging, in the case that they might need to use them in an emergency. Briar hoped that they wouldn't need them, but he would rather be safe than sorry. Regardless, it reminded him of old times – Rosethorn scolded him whenever he erred or wasn't precise enough, and he laughed at her face.
Often Sandry and Lark would go to weave bandages at the loom houses, although the process was tedious and the thread often had outbursts. They would laugh, and Lark would sing songs from her days in the circus. She taught a few to Sandry, who, being older, realized that a great deal of Lark's songs were quite bawdy. Lark made excuses, but Sandry only shrugged them off and sang the ditties anyway.
Daja spent a great deal of time over with Frostpine and Kirel, sometimes laughing and enjoying their company, other times helping them with their work. It was one of the few times that she felt alright, as though she might survive; she saw in Frostpine and Kirel a father who loved her and a friend who loved her. The hammering felt good to her bones, and a small – very, very small – part of her missed the smell of Hajra, the feel of importance, the pride in her doors.
Tris sometimes would do little chores around the house – dusting, mopping, washing clothes – simply to keep her mind off of other things. Occasionally, she would spend her time writing in a journal to relieve the tension that was building up inside of her. The book soon grew thick with ink and paper. When she was really restless, she would walk to the seawall, letting the salt run over her.
They would return by the ringing of the bell at six o'clock, weary and needing to re-wrap their hands from all the day's work. The final meal was cooked and eaten quietly, as all were very exhausted from the tedium of the day. The remaining time before an early bedtime was spent relaxing with bare toes in the garden, on the rooftop, walking along the winding paths. They were usually in bed quite early.
It was not exciting, those days. But neither was it peaceful. Any extra time was plagued with worry and uneasiness and a looming, foreboding sense that the end was perhaps, unexpectedly coming. Their hands were sore; they had been cut open so many times that they all feared infection, and it made their chores difficult. The magical workings exhausted them and made their hours of sleep thoroughly enjoyed and often the only time of peace during the day.
---
Two weeks had passed since Raeldro had left for Emelan. Sandry, disgustingly perky over breakfast, was worried over him. "You don't think he's gotten hurt, do you?" she asked nobody in particular as she passed around bread. "What if he was attacked by bandits? Or, what if his horse fell on him and broke his legs?"
"We'd have heard of it," Daja said comfortingly. "Sandry, why are you giving this bread to me? It's gone hard."
"It's all we have," she explained with a shrug. "Do you think that Moonstream would have told us, even if we are 'kids' still?"
"We're involved in this mess, aren't we? I think we have a right to know about everything, and I'm sure that Moonstream would agree. Even Rosie's started to see us as adults; she told Briar about the earth's core shrinking, didn't she?" Tris said.
"This bread is really awful, Sandry. Even I can't chew it," Briar complained. "Do you want me to go get some more from Gorse?"
"If you go, we'll never get you back, will you? You'll eat it all yourself on the way back," Sandry retorted. "I'll go, if you're all going to complain about it so much." She hung her head. "They might not even have any, you know. I didn't tell you this before, but when I went to Gorse yesterday, when he gave me this bread, he said it was the last bit he had. Of course, he may have gotten some more in – but, well, my point is that I think we ought to eat this anyway."
"That bad, is it?" Briar responded. He cut himself a bigger slice of the offensive food and bit into it thoughtfully. "You know, it's not half-bad. I've had worse. We've just gotten spoiled, you know." I never thought I would have to worry about hunger again, Briar thought to him. I thought those ended the day I gave up thieving.
"Pass me some of that, too, street rogue," Daja said, giving an overly bright smile. "We won't put it to waste."
Tris looked into the bowl. "We've run out of cereal," she said with a shrug.
"I could go get some more, if you like," Sandry said, standing from her seat.
"It's really quite alright," Tris insisted. "The bread will be enough."
Sandry was already standing. "He might have a bit," she said thoughtfully. "Surely that one small loaf of bread isn't going to feed the masses! Give me just a few minutes, and I'll be back." She put her hand on the door and swung it open.
Niko stood in the doorframe, poised to knock.