Chapter 10: Chapter 10
"WHAT!"
She raises an eyebrow at me.
"I never noticed you were aurally challenged."
It takes me some time to figure out that what she means doesn't have anything to do with an aura. Losing my head, indeed. Speaking of auras though...
"But... I have never noticed anything like that coming from you," I reason.
"Hmph! As if you were looking!"
"Sorry?"
"Xellos, you never notice how I feel at all!"
"Of course I do!"
"When playing a prank on me, perhaps. Definitely not when it's important for me!"
I itch to answer that there is no way I can predict what she'd deem important, but at that instant I notice Val peeking from behind the bathroom door, clearly uneasy with our row.
"Val, come out, it's all right. We are just having a stupid adult fight.
"Wh- what did I do wrong?" comes his trembling voice. Oh fuck.
"Nothing," I snap, feeling the rage building up in me. I clearly have overdone my daily norm of good deeds. "It's me, I have done it all wrong, like I always do!"
At this point the remains of my reason come together for one last effort – to kick me out of here before I ruined it completely. I teleport to the other side of the world, high to the mountains. I find a stream breaking it's way through snow, and lie down to feel myself surrounded by gurgling, icy-cold water. I need to cool off.
The Goldens are enormous bastards with their intolerance of other folks. In that they actually surpass me in evil. I have never been a racist; I can extract my pleasures equally from any kind of creature.
But then, as bad as they are, they still can do good, too. Probably unlike me. I'm starting to think that Val's mother was right not letting me anywhere near him. It looks like no matter how much I wish him good, I still end up doing bad. Perhaps we don't have free will. After all, no one has ever proved that we did. It's just assumed, since the Dragons clearly are free in their decisions, so it must be that the evil that we do, we do intentionally. But what if not? What if anything we do is evil by definition? What if at the time of Creation we weren't given a choice?
I extract myself from the stream and teleport away, leaving the water that has soaked me to hang like a cloud in mid-air.
Contrary to the common belief, Zellas Beastmaster doesn't spend her days in her dull and empty throne hall. In fact, it is only used for unwelcome visitors (to intimidate) and festive occasions (to fit a lot of people). Today I find my Mistress in a hammock not far from the castle with a coconut cocktail in one hand and a gossip magazine in another. Oh well, I haven't seen the fresh issue of 'The Queen's Maid' yet. I wonder if they cover the Saillune marriage...
I sit cross-legged on the grass by the hammock and wait to be acknowledged.
"Oh Xellos," she says, turning a page. "Anything new?"
"No, rather something old."
She looks up, or rather down at me.
"What, more eternal questions? Honestly, Xellos, I appreciate your interest in the ways of this world and I know it yields fruit, but you should remember not everything is within your reach!"
I nod. At the moment I am way too aware of how much is completely beyond me.
"Do we have free will?" I ask simply. She snorts.
"How should I know?"
Oh yes you do. Or at least you wasted a couple thousand years trying to find out. I know you.
The silence is not exactly pleasant. At last, she speaks.
"So what are you now, bent on doing some good? Why else would you wonder if you could?"
"I have a duty to fulfill. It is a requirement."
"A duty."
She puts down the magazine completely and empties her glass in one gulp.
"What kind of duty?"
I look up straight at her.
"You don't want to know."
She hisses, as from a burn. I wonder if it's in my nature to hurt everyone I don't want to hurt.
We are silent for another stretched painful while.
"How long do we have?" she asks quietly.
"It depends on other people's discretion. At best, a dozen years. At worst... well, could say farewell now."
She nods absently.
"Do you want to?"
I shake my head slowly.
"Even when I am no longer in your service, I'll still be there to help," I say with conviction. She chuckles, and I think the air warms up somewhat.
"I see. Well, at least there is still some benefit in your insanity."
I smile weakly. It's just like Lina said; I am too deviant for a Mazoku. This is how my Mistress created me, though. She wanted a very anti-mainstream servant with a set of values and abilities very different from anyone else. Unique and unliable to second-guessing. So here I am, a total success. In love, and having sired the most unfortunate child in the world. There is no limit to perfection, is there?
"Xellos," she calls. "There is no one opinion on our freedom of will. It all depends on how you define good and evil, or rather what exactly you classify as such on practice, and whether you count only actions or intentions too. But something tells me that if there is one Mazoku in the whole Universe of Four who has it free, that's you."
I nod, using the gesture to look away. It seems that we are doomed.
Zellas picks up her magazine again.
"Run along, my gorgeous knight; something tells me there is some place where you need to be at the moment."
I stand and bow all the way to the ground, not trusting myself to speak.
Well, it went much better than I expected. I mean, in terms of screaming and punishments, or rather lack thereof. However, in terms of emotional turmoils, well, I've been better. At some point soon after the end of the war, I was bent on studying the environment of this world, and did indeed contribute to the human natural science, especially in the area of those minuscule creatures whom humans can't see. I remember wondering how a daughter-hydra feels after gemmating from the main thing. Well, it took me about a thousand years, but now I know.
I stride lazily along a path leading from I-don't-care-where to an equally vague destination, when my way is suddenly obstructed by Milgasia, of all people.
"Uh!" he exclaims, startled.
"Yeah?" I say, no less startled, but much less willing to have a conversation.
"Erm, ehm, were those... er, was the literature useful?" he manages, clearly oppressed by my unwelcoming countenance.
"I haven't applied it yet," I sneer.
"Is... is something wrong?" he asks, and is genuinely worried. That warms me up a bit.
"You were married once, weren't you?" I suddenly ask.
"Yes," he is clearly as bewildered, as I am by my own antics.
"And then?" I ask, continuing down the path.
"S-she passed on, unfortunately."
Is there a single happy and lucky person around me?
"What was the worst wrong you did by her?"
Come on, tell me you broke her favourite cup. Or forgot her birthday. Or called her another name in bed. Come on, I know I'm a failure as a lover, I just need a reference.
"I failed to keep our son safe and happy," he says after some consideration.
"And she?" I ask the already prepared question, while still processing what he said.
"She never blamed me," he says in a shaky voice.
I hide my astonishment, pretending to gaze far ahead.
"That's love?" I ask, purposefully not specifying, whose love to whom.
"Yes," he shrugs dismissively. Then he seems to realize something, "There are better instances, if you'd like to get an idea..."
"Oh no, thank you," I cut him off. "That's the last thing I need!"
We walk in silence for a minute or two. I have a feeling that Milgasia is building up the courage to say something. At last, when my patience is running short, he voices his concern.
"Are you letting me see him again?"
"Hmm," I pretend to be deep in thought, "so that you could restore your authority with raising children?"
His rage flashes at me like a shot of fireworks, bright, loud and spiked. I drink it in quickly, giggle drunkenly, and vanish.
Fireworks, indeed. I appear in a park in the suburbs of Saillune, where there is some festival going on. Right, it's the anniversary of the current royal family coming to the throne. Crowds and crowds, all happy, fill the vast lawn so tightly, as if it were a narrow corridor. Here and there I see brightly lit stalls with sandwiches and tea, swings and trampolines covered with kids. Looks like everyone who has a kid has brought him here.
I get myself a beer for the sheer pleasure of not paying for it (as well as to frustrate the long queue which I ignored). The show starts, and there is music, and there are fireworks. I find a good spot in the front row and watch the old man in a pointed hat perform all kinds of fire magic. He is quite good at it, but then this is Saillune. A small child keeps sticking its elbow into my calf. On my right a couple is snogging so enthusiastically, they don't give a damn about the fireworks. I turn back to the show, forcing myself to concentrate on having fun and cheering together with the others. Behind me a group of youths are laughing their heads off over some silly joke.
I think I am the only one alone here. And I bloody feel like it.
The glass crushes in my hand just as another majestic accord tears through the air together with a flash of deep blue sparkles. I feel desolate, abandoned and useless. I have torn all the threads leading to other living creatures. All in one day.
I push out of the crowd, unable to keep a straight face. I am so lonely, it seems to hang around me like a black cloud, making sure everyone is aware of my misery. By the time I get away from the stares and lights, I start feeling off even physically – something akin to suffocation makes me double as I crouch on the grass. It hurts. It bloody damn hurts. I am alone and no one cares. My eyes burn and I can't help making odd hoarse sounds, even though I am sure I wouldn't be able to produce any words at the moment. I roll up in a ball and rock lightly, letting the odd fit to pass. Normally I can push any pain away into a corner of my mind while still acting normally. But this is clearly not your usual injury. The more I am trying to ignore it, the more acute it becomes, the more it stings. Sparkling firework'y letters run under my glued-together eyelids: you are alone and will ever remain so. No one will ever want to share their fun with you. No one you like will ever look you in the eyes and smile.
I realise that I'm writhing on the ground, moaning like winged game. Can I get any more pathetic? I gather the last remaining powers and collapse through the matter of the existence into Astral.
I honestly don't know how it happens that I end up in Lina's house. Must be my craving for company...
They both sit at the huge kitchen table, sticking together, their backs toward me. They have just started their dinner. At the sound of my appearing Lina turns to look, and her expression is sad and displeased. Don't tell me to get out, darling, I can't. I'll die on the spot.
I really want to fall on my knees and plead for forgiveness, but somehow that seems a very wrong way to get in Lina's good graces. So instead, acting on a whim like I have done too often lately, I grab them both under the arms and teleport back to the on-going festival. I set them on foot in front of a sweets stall and get each an ice-cream almost immediately.
"Wah," Lina finally utters. As the old funny-hat chooses exactly this moment to resume the fireworks after a short break, the next thing I hear is Val's "WOOOOW!" Lina is somewhat taken aback too. She stares at the beautiful multicoloured sparkles, fascinated, her huge eyes reflecting the gorgeous display in detail. She almost lets her ice-cream leak a drop. Almost.
"Xellos," she says after catching the drop with her cute agile tongue. "I'm not even dressed for party, you know!"
I assess her outfit. It's a dressing-gown actually, but I only know it because I've seen her don it in the morning. It can easily pass for an overly bright and a slightly eccentric dress.
"Darling, you are so beautiful, no one will notice what you are wearing," I kiss her temple lightly, holding a metaphorical breath: who knows if she is still all right with our shared intimacy.
She rolls her eyes.
"I'll get cold soon."
"I'll lend you my cloak."
She snorts, and then we are silent. Val is glued to the rickety fence that surrounds the fireworks area. He is so small among all those darks shapes of other people. I glance around: there must be some kind of watchpoint for kids, right? I'd squeeze him there. But there isn't. Instead I notice that many parents are straddled by their children, on the neck. I imagine it to be horribly uncomfortable for both, but they seem fine. Hm. But how can he climb there?
"Ne, Lina," I decide to ask, "how do I get Val onto my shoulders? For a better view, that is."
She giggles.
"You stoop and lift him over your head."
I glare at her. It can't be real! What kind of acrobatics is that?
She laughs.
"Okay, just crouch down, I'll put him there."
Well, that sounds more reasonable. I do as instructed, and she puts Val onto my shoulders. It's not that uncomfortable, really, although Val is clearly taken aback – literally, alas. Thankfully, Lina catches him and pushes him upright.
"Val, it's all right, look around, everyone's doing that. Just grab onto his ears and stay put."
"I c-can't," he stutters. Oh, of course he can't do something that awkward.
"Onto the collar then," I supply, at the same time pulling his hands to grip the collar of my turtleneck.
He mumbles something incoherent, but at that time the fire-wizard produces an especially spectacular bunch of colours, and the child is distracted enough to stop whining. Lina looks at me approvingly, then disappears.
Fortunately, I suffer from uncertainty only for a minute, and then she returns laden with bags of nuts and candy. She props something sweet into my mouth and then reaches up to Val. The rest of the show we are happily chewing, and I feel Val relax in his awkward position.
Once the featured fireworks are over (while some amateurs continue shooting simpler ones around the park), we head for the swings and merry-go-rounds, all brightly painted and lit, and I catch the best seats. We take several rides together until Lina complains that her head is spinning, so we leave Val to jump on a trampoline with other kids, and settle on the grass, using my cloak as a rug.
I hug her from behind and rest my head on her shoulder, so that she wouldn't see what she called 'faithful-dog look'.
"Sorry for the morning."
"I was going to give you a right beating, you know, but with all the fireworks and sweets, I'm no longer in the mood. So consider yourself forgiven."
I kiss her on the neck. I love her so much. Someone else, perhaps, could just tell me it's all right, but keep the offence in their heart. Lina wouldn't. She'd beat me up, but afterwards it'll be all back to normal.
"I love you so much," I say, short of words to communicate to her my relief and eternal loyalty.
She looks at me cautiously, as if afraid to scare me away.
"I love you too," she says quietly. I bury my face in her hair, not even trying to come to terms with this flabbergasting concept of someone – let alone Lina – loving me.
"You know, I'm really screwed up," I mumble. She seems to understand I mean my general state lately.
"I'd say you were screwed up if you were a human. As it is, you're just venturing into a new territory. One feeling tugs another along. You'll just have to get used to the whole spectrum."
She turns to me and allows me to kiss her on the lips. As usual, she tastes sweet. This time it's toffee apple flavour.
Val comes running, making us break up abruptly.
"Mom! Dad! May I go pony-riding, please?"
"Sure," Lina says while I gape, "here, take the coins."
"Thanks!"
And he is off before I can utter another sound.
Lina strokes my arm.
"Well, that's progress. Shall I congratulate you?"
I want to say that it is damn dangerous for me, but then I realise that it isn't anymore. Zellas already knows.
"Yeah... But why did he?.."
Lina shrugs.
"Ask him later."
I do, as we settle at a small table in an improvised cafe for a late snack – my sweeties haven't finished their dinner, and are now quite hungry.
Val stutters something, hiding behind his bowl of noodles, so I have to clear things up.
"It's perfectly all right, Val, you may call me 'Dad'. I just wonder why you suddenly decided to do so?"
"Because of how you carried me," he provides. "That's what only Dads do."
"Oh," I look at Lina uncertainly.
"Yup," she nods. "A totally Dadly thing."
I reach out and ruffle Val's hair. Maybe someday I will be able to understand the way he thinks, but that day is yet far away.
Eventually we decide to go home: Val is asleep in my arms, and Lina is somewhat dizzy too, clutching the edges of my cloak (which she is wrapped in) as if it could steady her.
"I'll teleport us back," I say shifting Val into a more comfortable position.
"Shall I grab onto your arm?" Lina asks sleepily.
"No need, you're grabbing onto my cloak already," I chuckle.
"Ah," she is slightly exasperated. "Isn't it annoying to make all your clothes of your own body?"
"Not all," I smile broader. "The rest of what I'm wearing is real. But it's convenient to have the cloak that way, it's like an extra limb."
She rolls her eyes at me for the umpteenth time today, and off we go.
After I tuck Val in, and Lina has had her standard forty minutes of bath, I allow her to make sure herself that most of my clothes are real – by pulling them off. She wasn't half as sleepy as she seemed, really.
Guys, do you know what it feels like when you stay late just so that you could finish a chapter and post it before going to bed, so that in the morning you could see reviews, and there are none... and then the day passes, and still there are none...?