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It Began with a Goodbye

by Riley Berg

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Chapter Fifteen

"I am not capable of it."

"What?"

I turn to Stephen, realizing too late that I spoke aloud. Ástriðr would be distressed to learn how quickly Stephen is taking the place of my secret-keeper in her absence. But it is too late now. I can tell by the look in Stephen's eye that he will not dismiss the statement I let slip. Perhaps as a friend, if I asked him to let it be… but, no, as a friend he would pursue it, pursue understanding.

I sigh.

"I am not capable of love." He raises an incredulous eyebrow. "Romantic love," I clarify.

"How can you not be capable?"

I shrug. "It is not in my physical nature, or my emotional one. I just… cannot feel that way. I have never had a physiologic response of that nature, or ever had my mind or heart or whatever you want to call it feel like that."

He looks at me in disbelief. "Are your father's people – ?"

I shake my head. "I do not think so. It is just… me."

He shakes his head in disbelief.

"It should not be that difficult to understand. There are asexual humans, are there not? Well, I am an asexual… whatever-I-am."

"You say that so calmly," he says, eyeing me as if he expects me to break down in the throes of emotion.

"I'm not some starry-eyed youth, or even a hopeful young woman. I have no desire, no goal for love, at least not in that form. I give more attention to the forging and nourishing of my friendships than it seems to me most people give to their so-called committed relationships. That is enough for me."

"But – but – "

"'But' what? Why is this so difficult for you to accept?"

I eye him nervously. Surely not. Surely he has not… developed feelings for me?

"I have seen the way you look at your friends. At me. Even, though perhaps to a lesser degree, Wong." He pauses. "You love them. You love us. No," he interrupts before I can protest, "not romantic love, I know. But love nonetheless. And… I think… you have the greatest capacity for love of anyone I have ever met. I dare say of anyone in the world."

I stare, I admit, dumbstruck at his words. 'Love' is a word I have grown to hate, especially in the English language. Even my affection for my friends, which I obviously enjoy, I do not prefer to refer to as 'love.'

But somehow, I do not mind it so much, the way Stephen said it.

Maybe in my old age, 'Aphrodite' will refer to a different sort of love.

If only 'Areia' could have a different meaning, I sigh inwardly, or my pursuit of worthiness for the name 'Sophia' could be accomplished.

He continues, pulling me away from my diverted thoughts, "Your friends are—we are blessed beyond comprehension to be… the objects of your affections. Certainly, they… we," he edits again, with only a little hesitation, "return your friendship, but… but I can't help but think that some disservice is being done to you that you should not be blessed to love someone with an even greater love, and receive that love in return."

So that is what he was thinking. I am torn between relief to learn that he is still resisting my so-called charms and gratitude for his concern for me.

"It is alright," I try to assure him with a warm smile. "As I told you, it is not something I desire."

He looks doubtful and I consider saying more, but, no, not now. I will let this settle. If it does not, we can have this conversation again, and maybe I will add to it. Hopefully, he is less stubborn than Ástriðr. Even after sixty years of friendship and partnership and trying to get her to understand, she was still trying to marry me off, as if there was not enough evidence of my asexuality.

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To my surprise, Stephen does not broach the subject again. I continue guiding him to learn "my" sorcery, and he continues to train with me in fighting and defense, in the—newly introduced to me—mirror dimension, as I still make quite a mess. I continue to make progress in astral projection, but it is a slow progress as I have little motivation. I understand the use of the mirror dimension and the ability to travel to various dimensions of the multiverse, but the astral form is something I have yet to see the use for.

As I ponder this mystery, Stephen interrupts my thoughts with a quiet, "Master Sophy?"

I look up to find him in the doorway of my dormitory room, where I have taken to lounging whenever we are not teaching or training together.

"Duty calls," he informs me. "And I am not sure how long I will be gone. A few hours perhaps, but a few days possibly. Will you be alright?"

I look at him in confusion. Of course, I will be alright. I can take care of myse—Oh! He means because he will not be there to sleep beside me at night if his duties keep him away long.

"I think I will be fine, as long as it is no more than three days, and even then I will be okay, just not in guaranteed optimal condition. But, I could come along with you, if you would like. Not for my sake," I interject before he misunderstands, "but for yours. To help you."

Stephen remains silent, considering my offer.

"It is standard to work in pairs at the least," I encourage.

Stephen nods. "It would be smarter that way, I suppose. Protect each other's backs if something goes wrong, that sort of thing."

"Exactly," I smile, standing to slip on my outer layer, a hooded, sleeveless robe-like coat I wear over my Masters' robes. "So, what is this 'duty' you are tending to?"

I walk down the hall with Stephen and he opens his mouth to answer, but something stops me in my tracks just as we pass the Relic Room. I look down, and to my genuine surprise find a corner of the Cloak of Levitation wrapped around my wrist. I stare at it, trying to remember if it has done something like that before when it partnered with other Masters of the past. I do not think so. To its Masters, yes, but not to others, neither when partnered or when alone. But, it has always been one of the pickier relics, so it has not had as many Masters as the others, and thus less time to display its abilities.

I shift my stare to Stephen, but he seems just as bewildered as me. Looking back down at the Cloak, which has yet to release me, I wonder what it is trying to communicate. I look around for a clue, and my eyes fall on the many glass cases and shelves of the Relic Room.

The Cloak releases me.

A relic?

"I wear my relics," I counter, lifting a wrist pointedly as I look at the Cloak in my peripheral vision.

It shudders a little.

I sigh. Mother did not think the bracelets counted, either, but it seems that the relics treat me as non-human. My father's race does not have the same relationship with relics as the humans do. I can use them, but I am not chosen by any one of them.

But I must select a weapon, or perhaps a shield, to satisfy the Cloak.

Stupid relics! Multiplied by two.

I take a step toward the Relic Room, looking around.

"You can just take a relic?"

Without looking back, I reply, "Anyone can just take a relic. But their ability to control it will be based on their abilities as a sorcerer, and certain relics will be unresponsive, or at least less responsive, when forced to do a sorcerer's bidding instead of choosing to serve that sorcerer. And among my father's people, relics are less important. From what I remember, they do not choose us, but we can use them. Partnership with a relic is not a requirement for graduating from disciple to Master as it is here. In fact, there are no disciples. Just apprentices that become Masters."

Ah! A casting rod. I pick it up, a rod which would seem no different than a quarter-staff to the untrained eye, and weigh it in my hand. It will do.

"Satisfied, my lady?" I ask, turning to the Cloak.

It tugs Stephen a little toward the hallway from where he has stepped into the Relic Room with me.

"I take that as a 'yes.'"

"I hope we won't need it," Stephen adds as we walk to the open area at the end of the hall for him to form a portal to our destination.

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