Author's Note: As of September 25, 2016, this is the beta-ed version of Ch. 13, so credit to BlueTrillium for her edits.
This chapter was originally published around Labor Day (US).
So, Happy Labor Day! ~Lanta
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Chapter 13: Obvious
Lady Glocia de Gilenee; daughter of Grand Duke Jeida de Gilenee of Zago and heir to his realm; sipped her tea, and tried not to think about all the useful things she could be doing while Her Highness the First Princess, Alehandra of Guzena, prattled on about court fashions, functions, and diversions.
To Glocia's mind, Her Highness did not seem to have anything to do other than plan her wardrobe, attend functions, and divert herself. These three activities occupied the vast majority of her conversation––if one could call a monologue on the trend in feathers conversation.
Eyeing Her Highness's dress, the young noblewoman found herself weighing the odds that Alehandra herself did not dictate current court fashion in Selena Guzena. Pinions sprouted from her shoulders and hair in a flamboyant—if improbable—combination of textures and types, all dyed the same dubious shade of pastel green.
As if her plumage were not ostentation enough, Her Highness had chosen to supplement the dress with jewelry—pearls, to be exact. Glocia tried not to speculate whether the Princess knew where her pearls came from.
The Gulf of Isabesh that separated Geeko from Donya teemed with the shellfish that produced those bright green baubles––pirates, too, unless you threw your lot in with the government of Geeko, which called them privateers and hired them to discourage Yansk and Donya from using the waters or its resources, turning a blind eye when its own citizens were victimized.
It wasn't that the mollusks were particularly scarce; they simply preferred a mazelike reef habitat shared by a few species of carnivorous fish, one or two deadly poisonous invertebrates, and a nasty little parasite that manifested itself when its host went slowly and torturously mad from the tiny tunnels it bored through their brain.
It was by all accounts a horrible way to die––but then, so was getting eaten alive by a school of flesh-stripping fish, having your heart stop because you happened to brush against a lovely-death anemone so easily mistaken for pinkish seaweed, or getting trapped in the convoluted reefs and drowning. Small wonder, then, that few people chose to tempt fate by harvesting the valuable pearls.
For this reason, the administration of Geeko had a special 'draft'. People––some convicts, but mostly slaves–– were forced to dive for the pearls. One disturbingly plausible rumor stated that for every one pearl harvested, an average of three lives were lost to drowning, predators, or parasites. The pearls were then confiscated by government backed suppliers, who rationed them so as to further increase demand and, consequently, prices. Naturally, this created a black-market niche for pirates, some of whom made a point of taking captives and then forcing them to dive.
Seeing objects that inspired such avarice and cruelty being worn in such abundance by one person reminded Glocia of a sweetmeat she'd once had at the Palace of Zago––costly but tasteless.
Ethical arguments aside, Glocia would grudgingly admit that anyone who wasn't quite as gorgeous as the Princess of Guzena would have been completely drowned out by her fashion choices. Being quite as gorgeous as herself, Alehandra didn't so much vindicate the opulent tragedy of her attire as compete with her clothes for an observer's attention. Besides bearing a striking resemblance to her father (a thin man with dark hair, fair skin, a pert nose, and a perpetually bemused expression)*, Her Highness had apparently inherited the beauty for which the late Queen Consort had been famed. Glocia had seen courtiers—men and women alike—so taken with the movement of the Princess's eyelashes or the appearance of a dimple on her porcelain cheek that they lost the thread of even the most routine exchanges. (Another frighteningly credible rumor claimed the existence of several poems dedicated to the well in Alehandra's chin.)
And speaking of routine exchanges…
"––the trick is in mixing lengths, just so. The layers then fall––Lady Glocia? Is something wrong?"
Yes—your priorities, Glocia wanted to snarl, but forced the glower creeping down her face into something resembling apology and said, "Your pardon, Highness. A sudden headache—"
Ordinarily, the set excuse for all involuntary facial expressions of a hostile nature would be followed by the customary condolences and speculations into the various causes of sudden headaches.
A notably sincere look of sympathy was making its presence known on Alehandra's perfectly groomed brow when something very not ordinary happened. Her Highness opened her flawless mouth to condole (and in its turn, to speculate), then leapt up as if she'd been stung—dragging the elaborately upholstered little chair she used forward when the underpinnings of her enormous skirt caught on the seat. Ignoring that hazard to her finery, she cast frantically around the room as if she expected an assassin.
Perhaps Glocia was a bit too used to occult happenings, but she managed to contain her own brief startle at the sensation that bowled through her. She felt the way she supposed she would if someone had charged through the room screaming "Surprise!" and littering the whole place with confetti torn from the ambiguous books of prophecy in Ennamarna's small but well-stocked library. Resigned anxiety fluttered about like so many little bits of paper in the screamer's wake.
Only, Rottenina had never struck Glocia as the type to play practical jokes, and Glocia was certain that it was Rottenina who had just come hurtling through and had, in some part, remained.
While Glocia was reconciling these impressions, Princess Alehandra regained her self-control—if not her composure.
"I—I do apologize," Her Highness tittered while she maneuvered her skirt back into proper form and returned to her seat (several measures closer to the tea table than she had been before). "I-I don't know what came over—"
Ah. She thought Glocia hadn't sensed anything. Well, open diplomacy dictated that Glocia set her at ease.
"An apprentice seer, I think," said the Duke's heir, watching the Princess to gauge her reaction. "I suspect an experiment worked a little too well." No need to tell her precisely who it had been—if Alehandra hadn't recognized Zena's apprentice, then Glocia might actually get Rottenina in trouble by naming her.
At the word 'seer', Her Highness's cup rattled on its saucer. Definitely best not to mention Rottenina.
The tangible upset on Alehandra's face was arresting—not because she looked particularly pretty when distressed, because she didn't—but because the pinches and creases suddenly reminded Glocia of a much older noblewoman, a sweet and complacent mistress of her household who once upon a time had been thrust into exile, her family divided and dispersed. A woman who often appeared to have no grounding thoughts or opinions of her own, whose optimism often appeared to be naivety, and whose faith in the basic goodness of people had roused an entire city to the defense of her friends.
Glocia de Gilenee, heir to her father's estate and duties, began revising her opinion that broaching harsh subjects with the First Princess of Guzena would not be worth the effort.
XIIIXIIIXIIIXIIIXIIIXII
Shimatoku Akane fretted.
The grown-ups had assured her that Rottenina would be alright, but the nine-year-old had seen enough to know that adults often said whatever they wanted to be true as if it was true. Drumming her heels on the frame of Anita's bed, she glanced across the attic to where Rottenina lay swaddled in her blankets.
She'd run to fetch the women in the courtyard when the globe image suddenly zoomed out and the seer did not respond to her at all. The young woman had remained catatonic as she was being detached from the crystal globe and hoisted up between the sparring partners and their mentor, only to go completely limp en route to the attic.
Katarina and Akane's mother had been obviously disturbed, but Gaya—and Anita when the other assistant arrived on the double—had simply sighed and agreed that someone should stay with her and be there when she woke up.
The way Akane saw it, Rottenina-nee-san had let Akane sit in on her seeing practice because she'd needed help—it didn't feel right to stop helping now that the crystal ball was no longer dancing inside like a full-color animated hologram.
And so Akane sat, kicking her feet and trying to dredge up some interest in the paper and charcoal sticks Chiyako had plied her with after first trying to dissuade her from what was starting to look like hours of boredom.
She wondered how her uncle did it—sat for days on end, reading and typing. At home in Japan, Okaa-san had once told her that Daisuke jogged early every morning before anyone else was awake, but Akane couldn't see how going running all alone for an hour or so could balance against the all the sitting that marked the rest of his day.Yuri was the same—if she wasn't cleaning or cooking or keeping after Ojii-san, she could knit and watch TV forever.
Akane's mother was not like that—at least, not anymore. Since the move that had accompanied the precipitous lack of Akane's father (not that he'd been around much to begin with), Chiyako had undergone a rather drastic shift, not so much in personality as in the expression of personality. She'd always been active and vibrant with her daughter; reserved and demure with everyone else. These days she was energetic all the time—interacting with her neighbors of three years, the extended family she'd barely seen before the divorce, the parents and teachers she encountered at Akane's school…
Akane liked school. Classwork and homework were a welcome challenge, and she loved interacting with her classmates and teacher. It wasn't that hard to sit still and be quiet when the problems were interesting—provided, of course, that they were interesting.
She just hated sitting still…
…without anyone to answer her questions.
…or just to talk to…
"Okay now, the steps going up to the attic are in front of us. There're ten of them, a bit higher than the front stairs, with a little landing and left turn …"
Noriko's voice continued from the stairwell, describing what could be found in the attic as she ascended. Akane heard doubled footsteps, the second pair lighter than the first. Intrigued, she looked up at the door.
Her cousin shuffled in, opening the door wide as she came through. Behind her came a stranger.
When she stepped out from behind Noriko, Akane saw that it was a girl about her own age—though rather tall for nine. The stranger had fair, wavy hair that was tied low to one side, and large light eyes that did not waver—she stared straight ahead as if an unfamiliar room with an unfamiliar occupant was of no interest to her.
Well, Akane was curious.
"Onee-san, who's this?" She inquired as she slid off Anita's bed and trotted toward the newcomers. Then, with a spark of hope, she asked the blonde girl, "Have you come to help Rottenina-onee-san?"
Now the stranger looked in Akane's direction, and the nine-year-old saw with a start that the girl didn't have pupils. No, she had pupils, but they were a cloudy blue color that was hard to spot in the gray-blue of her irises.
Akane had seen cataracts before, but never in someone with light eyes, and never in someone so young.
"Akane-chan, [let her get her bearings first]," Noriko chided. Switching back to Midland, the young woman said, "Geena, this is my cousin, Shimatoku Akane. Akane-chan, this is Geena Agol Haas. She arrived with Master Agol and Master Barago just a little while ago. And yes, she wanted to check on Rottenina."
Akane almost reeled back in surprise. The Geena Haas she'd read about in the book her uncle had authored was seven years old. She was younger than Akane, and had been ever since Akane's eighth birthday. She was blind, and small enough that her father regularly chose to carry her over uneven ground. If anything, this Geena Haas was older than her own nine years, too tall and strong-looking to be carried about like a doll, and not at all who Akane had been expecting.
Geena had no such faulty preconceptions, and while Akane was staring with her mouth open, the young diviner smiled winningly and offered her hand in Akane's general direction. "Hello, Shi-ma-to-ku A-ka-ne."
After the necessary affair of introductions (Niana-oba-san had been very firm about this—it was only polite to name yourself, or better, to have someone you both knew name you), Geena asked to spend some time with Rottenina. Her request would probably have been met immediately, had not Wei come stealing through one of the attic's two windows in a lovely bright cerulean women's tunic and bringing a sparkling beaded scarf full of spiced pastries. The fact that he did slither down from the eaves prompted another round of introductions, an explanation that involved false claims of light-headedness and sympathetic barkeeps, and an offer to share the only slightly ill-gotten goods. By the time Akane had finished her pastry, Noriko had informed Wei of Rottenina's incident, and Geena was standing beside the black-haired girl's bed with her eyes closed, one hand folded around a small pouch hung on a cord around her neck.
By the time Geena opened her milky eyes again and declared that she would stay in the attic for the time being, Noriko and Wei had resolved a whispered argument that started with Wei blithely refusing to go back to his work and ended with Noriko throwing up her hands and asking Akane to guide Geena when the young seer finished what she was doing. The task initially filled the nine-year-old with uncertainty—what did she know about helping blind people?—but she caught a reassuring wink from Wei as he settled himself on Katarina's mattress. Knowing the capable Gray Bird wouldn't be far, she agreed.
"A-ka-ne?"
Perched on Anita's bed beside Geena, Noriko's cousin gave her attention to the blonde child. She'd been watching Wei as he went through a calisthenics routine (it had taken him all of ten minutes to start fidgeting, so Akane felt better about herself). Guiltily, she realized that Geena wasn't deriving the same entertainment from the spectacle. "Yes?"
Geena's cloudy eyes shimmered as she smiled. "I have been so excited about finally meeting you." She giggled, adding, "And I'm so happy to finally learn your name."
Akane puzzled at the words—the nuances and tense changes niggled at her, hinting at something unsaid.
"Oh!" The dark-haired child's eyes widened as it clicked. "You knew I'd be here! But—not my name?"
The young psychic shook her head. "Names—details—they can be very hard. What my mind sees—sometimes it's very clear, but sometimes it's not much better than what I can see with my eyes. It can be all vague, or all splintery, or both. Sometimes I get an image that represents something else completely, and I won't know what it means until things start to happen. Getting really specific things like names and times usually means someone is trying to tell me, and that's not always a good thing, or a true thing."
Akane thought about that a moment. "Okay. … So—you can see? With your eyes, I mean," she clarified.
"A little—if the light is right, I can see colors, and movement. Did Wei just stand up?" the blind seer whispered.
Akane glanced toward the floor by Katarina's bed. "Um—Sort of. He's doing—what do you call push-ups that you do standing upside down on your hands?" she murmured back.
"You know, I haven't a—"
A rustle interrupted Geena, and Akane looked across the room as Rottenina stirred, then settled back. The dark-haired seer still looked worryingly sallow. "Umm…"
"Yes?" Geena cocked her head, as if people regularly directed ambiguous requests for information at her.
"Will Rottenina-onee—I mean, will Big Sister Rottenina be okay?"
Akane watched as Geena once again closed her eyes and cupped a hand in the vicinity of her collarbone.
"Yes," the young psychic said quietly, smiling with her eyes still closed. "Her gift is special—she'll have to work it out by herself—but it won't put her in danger." The smile dipped thoughtfully. "Or at least, there will always be someone to aid her when she pushes to hard."
"Okay…Umm—"
Geena giggled. "Yes?"
"Why have you been so excited about meeting me?"
This time, the young seer grinned outright, showing dimples, and reached out searchingly with one hand. Guessing at what she wanted, Akane met her halfway.
"Because we're going to have so much fun together."
XIIIXIIIXIIIXIIIXIIIXIII
After a late night of reading, a morning spent translating, taking charge of the newcomers' baggage, seeing Agol off to the palace so he and Barago could house the dinosaurs, and then helping Geena to change before taking her to the attic to meet Akane and check on Rottenina, Tachiki Noriko was ready for a nap. Unfortunately, the attic bedroom was currently occupied by an unconscious seer, two little girls, and a fairly child-like young man who happened to be wearing a dress.
The children and Rottenina, Noriko thought she could have handled. Due to past experience, she could not delude herself that Wei would quietly amuse himself while she tried for forty winks. When he wasn't being stealthy, Wei's idea of quiet was exercises that involved a lot of stamping and shaking the floor.
He would have been a hit at sleepovers, she thought peevishly as she meandered down the back stairs. She needed peace and quiet—but she would settle for peace.
Izark. Izark was good for peace.
He was awake before he heard the soft open and shut of the door. Knowing who it was, he was pleasantly surprised when he felt the mattress shudder and crinkle as a body settled on top of the blankets beside him.
He dutifully pretended sleep.
Noriko waited a bit, considering the facts of the situation. Then, ever so carefully, she raised herself up on her elbows, leant over, and kissed her young man tenderly on the forehead, then the cheek.
He could sense her tension, her daring, and Izark forced himself to relax, to be still, to continue-to-respire as he felt Noriko's breath settle hesitantly at the corner of his mouth, then—his neck?
"PPPPBBBT!PHHHURRRRPPT!"
Izark's eyes snapped open. Shock and consternation had time to register before he yelped, feeling merciless fingers dig under his arms and attack his sides.
In the end, it was no contest. The warrior quickly trapped his adversary by throwing off the blankets and rolling her over inside of them, checking any more attempts at subterfuge.
Noriko was giggling madly, spitting strands of long hair out of her mouth and trying to blow the rest out of her eyes. The braids from their morning exploits were still in evidence, adding interest to the tangle. Izark chuckled at the picture she made, but took pity on her imprisoned state and helped shift the stuff away from her face.
"Was that strictly necessary?" he asked as he bundled her closer, pulling her back against his chest and grinning when she—still giggling—squirmed experimentally, no doubt testing for ways to escape the cocoon of blankets and arms he'd wrapped her in.
"Yes," she crowed, craning her head to look back at him, then finally huffed—an acknowledgement of checkmate. "Loosen up a bit? Like this, my arm's going to fall asleep."
He obliged, tugging on the blanket from the outside until there was enough space inside for Noriko to make herself comfortable, then re-arranged himself to fit the position she'd chosen.
Silence descended, until Noriko realized that in wrapping her up, Izark had sacrificed his share of the covers. "Are you cold?"
"No," came his response. Then, as an afterthought, "What were you doing?"
"Getting even."
He chuckled, and chose not to mention that hehad been getting even, too. "Before that. Why did you come in here?"
"I wanted to take a nap."
"What's wrong with the attic?"
"You missed a bit while you were asleep. Rottenina fainted while practicing with her Sight, and now Wei's up there keeping an eye on her. Oh, and Agol's group finally arrived, so Geena's up there with Akane. You'll be surprised—she's so much taller."
"Should I go greet them?"
She hummed. "No. Barago and Agol are busy getting the dragons under cover, and I think it's good to let Akane show Geena around. You'll see them at supper….Won't you?"
"…It'll have to be before supper."
They lapsed into silence again. The small, mutual disappointment caused by his statement ebbed away in the quiet.
"This is nice." It was Noriko who said it, but the sentiment echoed his thoughts perfectly.
"Hmm." This, here, now was vastly preferable to the that, there, then of those early days; the very real fear of irreversible—and complete—destruction.
"Izark?"
"Mmm?"
"…Kiss me?"
The request was an opening to take revenge for her earlier attack, but Izark felt that this particular battle in their merry war had reached its necessary conclusion. He considered.
Strictly speaking, they were already dancing on the very edge of propriety. Some people (the mayor of Calco included) would have looked askance at them for even being in the same bedroom, much less in the same bed.
Until seven days ago, this hadn't really mattered. On the road, it was both less expensive and more convenient for them to share sleeping arrangements—generally, locals didn't care what travelers did, so long as they didn't stick around. When they did stay in one place for more than a few days, the presence of Dr. Clairgeeta and Danjel had always allayed any meaningful criticism. Even then, some select well-meaning innkeepers had insisted that Noriko share with Katarina instead of Izark.
At his hesitation, Noriko muttered, "You're worrying about my parents again. You kissed me this morning." Right in front of Otou-san.
"I couldn't help myself." It was wrong of me.
""What is right and what is socially acceptable may constitute different codes."" He heard her mumble, and recognized the quote from one of Clairgeeta's speeches. "…Was it so different when we were both 'orphans'?"
"Where did you learn that having parents was a factor?"
She thought about this. "Here and there. I think Evan** said something about it once, but the first time I noticed was with the Mayor of Calco—the second time we visited." She craned her neck to look over her shoulder at him, her bright eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "He kept dropping hints about "doing it right" and "proxy sponsors" and how Calco had become so nice and peaceful in the last few years. He seemed to think it was all very obvious, so I started paying attention when those words came up around…well, us. And then I started reading." She paused. "Believe it or not, where I'm from marriage often comes before a permanent home." She chose not to mention that cohabitation was frowned upon in Japan.
Izark was—stunned.Somehow, the concept of two people being married without the security of basic resources was even more jarring than vehicles that ran on contained explosions. "How does that even work?!"
"I told you, money and resources are different there."
"Clearly."
"Most things just—take less time, I guess. And there are a lot more doctors…and—and ways to keep women from…" She faltered, clearly embarrassed by the subject matter.
"…"
He felt her sigh before she continued, "It's not like I can't see why they do things the way they do here. It's how things used to work where I'm from, and I'm pretty sure there are still many places in that world where that's still the case. It's just, what's acceptable here isn't really going to work with my parents—and not just because they can't really be expected to play their part. And that," she announced, "is what was bothering me when we arrived. Or part of it. I think."
"…Alright." Suddenly, Izark felt like they weren't close enough, for all she was only a few layers of cloth away. It happened like that sometimes—he thought maybe it had happened that morning, before he'd kissed her wrist. Now, he found himself curling in around her and pressing his nose into her hair. Quietly, he asked, "What do you think we should do?"
"…Right now? Well, since we don't plan on staying in Guzena, you can't ask here.And it's not a great idea to let Mr. Jeida retain us either, is it?"
"No." He'd been considering that option for a while, and kept coming to the same conclusion. "No, that's definitely not a good idea."
"Well, I don't really care where," she told him thoughtfully, "Or when. I just want you to promise me…" she hesitated. Then, in a whisper, "Please, promise me that you will ask."
"Believe it or not, I did have that part planned." He didn't mention that with the arrival of her family, even that plan had become less clear.
"Then… I'll find a way to explain to Okaa-san. And I'll ask Rottenina—she'll definitely have some insights about this."
"...What about your father?"
"I'll let Okaa-san do that part."
"Hmm," he assented. There was nothing to add—all in all, his perspective was too limited for him to make any calls pertaining to her parents.
The quiet had just started to settle in again when Izark remembered what she had asked of him.
Shifting, he raised himself on his elbow and lent over her. "Noriko, look at me."
She turned her head, and smiled to find his face mere inches from hers.
"I swear," he promised, before fulfilling the original request.
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*Guzena (King thereof)—introduced in vol. 6 as a figurehead for a cabinet of 12 ministers. We meet him in person during the epilogue of vol. 14, when the 11 ministers of the time have placed him under house arrest and are trying to force him to cede the throne to his young son. He is characterized as a docile, artistic person, uninterested in politics and easily influenced by beauty.
**the son of Kada, the farmer that put them up after Izark and Noriko escaped Mt. Purple Spirit. He took an immediate interest in Noriko, but got over it quickly when he realized that he couldn't compete with Izark. My impression of his interaction with Izark is this: he initially didn't think Izark was worthy of a girlfriend/fiancé/wife. I thought, "Maybe he kind of resents the fact that he, a strapping young man set up to inherit a good farm, is still waiting around for a marriage prospect while Izark—at the time destitute and apparently not so capable—is "with" a nice girl."
Author's Note: Exposition Chapter! Because I'm not skilled enough to work all that into a faster part of the plot Xb.
Some people might be wondering why I keep including introductions between characters. Thing is, introductions used to be very important.To give someone your name was to give them a large piece of your identity—a dangerous thing in a time without social security cards and birth certificates. In Regency England, it was considered extremely rude to introduce yourself if you and the person you were addressing had a mutual acquaintance at hand (If you've studied this and find fault with my information, please let me know—I'm taking this from Jane Austin films). I think this was basically a vouching system, in that the third party doing the introduction was vouching for both the parties being introduced.