The City by the Sea
Chapter 8
Écriture vérité.
Écriture honte.
Écriture souffrir en silence.
Écriture marque.
She wrote the runes on the street where the story of the nin had ended. Truth, shame, silent suffering, and mark. She then stumbled to the mayor's home. From her bags she pulled out strong tea, dried meat, and three sweet rolls. It wasn't sleep, but she wanted to leave. She wanted to finish this madness and return home.
She needed to leave.
"You can return," she told the mayor through the spell she created. "I have destroyed the creature. Your homes and people are safe now."
It wasn't exactly a lie. They were safe from the creature. But not from themselves. Not from her.
"I will wait in the City square to give my report to the City people."
If Levy hadn't discovered guilt of The City by the Sea on her own, the mayor's expression still would have created suspicion. The old woman had expected her to die. It was clear in those wrinkles around her hidden eyes. In the creases that framed her dry lips.
"Please hurry. I need to report back to my guild. I did not expect to stay so long here."
Surprise. Distrust Levy could almost feel it despite being connected only through the magic of the communication rune. Levy maintained a neutral expression, which wasn't hard considering her general exhaustion.
"Ah," the mayor's voice was sticky, "but how tired you look. Surely you should take one more day to rest..."
"Thank you, but no."
"Well, we are but a league away from the City's border. We will be to you shortly."
The image in the crystal vanished, and Levy sat heavily on a bench. Deep lungfuls of air to steady her, and coiled fist to contain her boiling anger. How many knew?"
"Reveal." She made the word small, tiny, to accommodate her wakened state, and sat the transparent green word over her right eye. It wasn't certain to work, but the word might allow her to see the guilt of those people responsible for the nin. Responsible for the deaths of 20 people, women and children, City folk, transplants, and two misled guild mages.
"The demon who came," Levy warily and wearily scanned the crowd as she gave her speech, which was to be short, "has been disposed of." A silence followed, long and heavy.
"How do we know it's true," a man with dark hair and shadowed eyes asked.
"I am still alive," Levy answered. "I was alone here, no one else to take, and I am still alive."
"But it had already fed for the night!" an anonymous woman trembled as she pointed at her. Levy could understand her fear. "Maybe it just went away! Maybe you're LYING!"
"Écriture vérité," she wrote on her skin in a glowing rune. "I can tell nothing but the truth. I shall give you a name that is not my own. My name is-" and she struggled. The rune gave off a red flash, and she coughed. "My name is Levy," the rune faded to a pleasant white, "and I destroyed the creature," and remained white.
Murmuring, then, and tears.
Levy was patient. She waited as the crowd cleared away. Mothers returning their children to their beds. Fisher-folk returning to the harbor to check out their boats and ready themselves for the morning's work. She watched as the mayor of The City by the Sea wearily returned to her home. Levy would go to her later and confront her about the way she treated the other mages.
But now she had to deal with the person who called up the nin. Those mothers, those sons, those fisher-folk, and that mayor ... they were all nothing before the one who waited.
It was an hour before she could speak with the one who wore a badge of shame, the image of Levy's own created rune. In the walk back into the City proper, only one person was tagged. Only one person was responsible for the 20 deaths. Only one villain.
And Levy had no idea what to do with her.
"How about we take a walk to the sea, ma'am, and talk." She was afraid. More afraid than when she faced the nin.
The old woman gave no complaint. She flexed those hands, those net-making hands, and nodded. Together they turned west. Towards the sea.
"I didn't sense any magic on you," Levy said to her as the two walked down Port, "when we spoke before. The whole time you told me the story of the guild mage, I didn't sense a hint of magic on you. "So how did you do it? And why?"
"We're nin-born," she said, voice like silk. "Generation after generation, our family prospered from the sea..." she grunted and waved her hands with their strong wrists in frustration. "Nine grandchildren. Not a-one of them can handle their own nets. Not a-one."
"You … because of..." Levy considered the words. "You were falling behind. Your family was falling behind."
"Yes. I have savings. Built on what my mother and grandmother, and their mothers and grandmothers, built, but they'll be dry before I pass. Dry keeping my blood afloat. Rarest fish bring the most money. We were pullin' in bait fish and no more."
"Quality," Levy stared at the dark water, a shade darker even than the dying-night sky, "over quantity. A nin, one nin, would set your family for another generation. Maybe even two."
"Yes."
"How did you do it?"
"We had the relic-"
"The eye."
"Yes. The relic, a memory of our ancestors. Didn't matter how old or how dead, the soul of a nin is life, forever life. I called to it. Offered it flesh and blood."
"And it answered."
"Yes."
She suppressed a shiver. She needed strength. "You knew it would claim the lives of others."
"Yes."
"Was it under your command?" Levy demanded. "Did you choose its victims?"
"No."
"You lie," Levy finally turned to face the woman. "Had you no control, it would have fed on you."
There was no answer to that. No simple, sharp yes.
Levy and the old woman stood in silence together. For far too long.
"The punishment you deserve," Levy finally said, "I cannot give you." The old woman stood slightly straighter, but Levy shook her head. She held her pen slightly outside of the woman's view. "But I cannot allow this to get out There are other people, powerful people who would kill dozens for a chance at immortality. As you well know, since you were hanging your fortunes on those same people paying you a lifetime's wage for it. You also must know that they would pay for the secret of how to do it themselves, if the secret was all you had."
She whipped out her pen, "Écriture vérité."
"Yes."
"Do your grandchildren or children know?"
"No."
"Do any others know? Anyone at all?"
The old woman struggled with a word, that beautiful voice reduced to grunts as the rune on her chest flashed red. Finally she managed, "A cousin who left the city two decades ago for Longroad. He knows that it can be done. He knows what we were, when we had power."
"Well, you have no power now," Levy told her. She raised her pen, which seemed so much heavier as sunlight broke over the eastern horizon, once more:
"You will not speak again of anything regarding the nin, how to raise them, of immortality: Écriture faire taire."
She swallowed, so tired.
"You will not communicate this knowledge through writing or any other way that might spread the story: Écriture censeur."
She swayed. The old woman groaned.
"For the remainder of your days, you will not leave the borders of The City by the Sea, even by water: Écriture enfermer."
Her breathing was labored. The old woman was shaking.
"And you will remember the pain of the creature you raised, those memories that she gave to me before dying a second death: Écriture mémento. Écriture empathie; as if it were your own."
As Levy fell to her knees, she heard a sound in the distance. She looked up to see the Christina hallowed against the rising sun.
The mayor had sent a messenger to Longroad, after all. And help had arrived.
Finally. And too late.
Author's Note:
Only the epilogue left to go. Hope you enjoyed this little chapter. Please review. I do appreciate reviews and make every attempt to reply to those reviews with my thanks. But, I'll go ahead and thank you in advance, as well. Thank you!