For while Ffamran had no hope of reaching the city undetected, he knew he could at least approach from a direction the dragon would not expect, one perhaps less fortified than the main gates. One such path, a cleft of rock only visible by the dawn's first light, was known only to pirates and thieves, which Ffamran himself had been in another life.
But it was no petty thief who set out to reclaim Leifen that day, but a paladin bold and true whose pure heart had earned him the Redwing and the loyalty of her stalwart crew: Ifrit, the fierce barbarian whose horned helmet and vicious ax made him a beast in battle, and Shiva, the beautiful sorceress with her heart of ice.
And so it was morning when the Redwing made dock at the hidden cargo bay beneath the southern tower.
From "A Spell to Pierce Magics", The Ars Paladia, as translated by Melanie the Wise, Queen Consort of King Titus VI of House Plein.
In a bed in the clinic, Thad slept. Lena knew it was a peaceful sleep, full of dreams, but still she worried. He slept so deeply. The little eidolon, who normally shunned the indoors, stayed at his side, hissing like a riled cat if anyone other than Lena approached the boy, and the tiny creature's fierce protectiveness only served to worry Lena more. For two days, she wandered between Thad's bed and Sarda's beside him, healing them both, and while Sarda woke on occasion, Thad slept on.
She pressed a hand to Thad's forehead as Shiva watched, her lips pressing into a line. The eidolon chirped a question.
Lena shook her head. "Still feverish," she answered. "I don't like that. And I still can't find the cause."
At her counter, 'Dine tsked. "We know what caused it," she said, waving a hand toward Sarda. In her other hand, she held a glass vial up to the sunlight in the window, checking the potion she was working on. The goats on the nearby farm were still suffering from an unknown ailment, and they'd begun tweaking the antidote recipes in search of a better treatment.
Lena sighed. Knowing Sarda had caused Thad's condition didn't help her to fix it. "Shiva, sit up here, please."
The eidolon chirped then flew up to sit upon Thad's pillow, tugging his hair as she nestled against his head.
"A cold compress would be more effective," 'Dine said.
"Probably," Lena said, shrugging. "But I don't know what time I'll be back, and Shiva's temperature is more constant."
"You plan to attend the meeting, then? I've told you it's not worth your time."
Sarda stirred in his sleep, a shifting mound of blankets. He slept with them pulled up over his head like a child afraid of the dark. Lena could just see the bedraggled chaos of the old man's beard sticking out from between the sheets. Voice muffled by the blankets, he said, "Don't let her come down!"
Lena exchanged a glance with 'Dine, whose eyes were wide with surprise. Sarda's mumblings were not usually so articulate, and Lena knew the prophet frightened 'Dine a little. 'Dine believed in prophecies. "Who?" Lena asked.
"The woman in the mountain," Sarda said. "She's biding her time." He rolled over, whipping the blankets off his head, and Lena could see that his eyes were open though he still didn't appear to be fully awake. She felt his fright, though.
She hurried to his side, hands glowing with a comforting Cure as she smoothed the blankets over him. As the Cure sank in, Sarda settled back against his pillows. "Don't let her come down," he said again before his eyes slid shut and his breathing deepened once more.
"Well," 'Dine said, clearing her throat. "That was disturbing."
Lena shook her head as she returned to Thad's side. "It's not the worst thing he's said, let's be honest." She patted Shiva's head, smoothed Thad's hair away from his face, and cast another Cure on the boy. "Maybe I'll skip the meeting, after all. I wouldn't want to be gone if he wakes up too."
She half expected 'Dine to disagree, but the woman only said, "Of course." Lena felt 'Dine's pity.
The first vote came out to one in favor, two against. Nine abstained.
Not surprising, Lukahn thought. The first vote was always a formality - that was how the High Circle did things. Most votes took two or three meetings to resolve. He could see the disappointment among Jack's people, Redden and the monk. Had they expected a unanimous vote in their favor just because they claimed to be on the side of prophecy? Ridiculous, he thought, though he only allowed himself a moment's smugness. Now, the real work began.
"So they meet every three days?" Kane asked.
"Mmm," Dahlia said, an affirmative noise as she pushed the wheeled chair toward the greenhouse. "And between meetings, there's more meetings, smaller ones. Jack'll be spending his time going to each of the sages in private, one by one, debating the issue, pleading his case. Meanwhile, Lukahn will be doing the same. When the Circle meets again, we'll see if they've persuaded anyone."
"It's not right," Kane said. "I should be with him."
"Nonsense," Dahlia said, propping the door open so she could push him inside the glass-domed building. "Wrede's barely given you leave to get out of bed. Besides, Jack's not alone, and I suspect your father is well practiced at this sort of thing."
"Yeah," Kane said, sighing, adding a muted, "Huh," as he looked around. It was his first time inside the greenhouse. The air smelled of summer and wet earth, warm despite the creeping chill outside. Outside, dry autumn leaves blew against the glass-paned walls with a sound like a child's rattle, but inside, the plants were thriving and green under the artificial light of some sort of mage lamps. With a wave of her hand, Dahlia renewed the lamps' spells, making the space that much brighter.
Warmer, too. Kane saw the little stoves placed at intervals around the room's perimeter, but he noted that at least some of the heat emanated from the lamps. He felt the first drops of sweat rolling down his back, pooling in the seat of the wheeled chair, soaking into his breeches. He almost said something, but Miss Dahlia seemed not to care one whit about how warm it was. She wore a thick wool sweater under her dirt-stained black robe, warm clothing for the cold day, and near the door she fetched a heavy work apron from a hook which she donned over her other clothes with a quick, practiced motion. "Alright then," she said, parking his chair in front of a table full of potted plants. "Let's put you to work."
Gardening, Dahlia told him as they pruned the plants, was a kind of magic. Transformation. A hill of weeds could become a beautiful garden with a bit of work. But that work would change the gardener too. "It's true," she said. "Moving earth, tending plants... It's healing."
Kane hissed through his teeth, drawing his hand back. He stuck his finger in his mouth, tasting blood.
"But watch for the thorns," said Dahlia.
"You could have said something sooner!" Kane protested, checking his finger. The prick was small, but blood welled up from it, a glistening drop. It would bleed for ages, he knew, owing to the blood thinning medications the mages had him taking while he was in their care. He stuck it back in his mouth for now.
Kane watched as Dahlia trimmed the potted roses. The flowers were in full bloom despite the season - yellow, Sarah's favorite. Kane breathed their heady scent as he remembered yellow roses in yellow hair, her smile as they danced. He grimaced as he flexed his ankle under the worktable. He couldn't imagine dancing now.
Dahlia held a stalk of fresh green growth up for him. "You cut them just here, see? Where the two leaves are? And the bush gets uppity. 'Think you can cut my flowers off? I'll show you,' it says. They grow back in droves. Roses are one of those plants that only grow stronger when you try to cut them down."
Kane rolled his eyes. "You know I'm too thick to understand metaphors, right?"
Dahlia chuckled as she bopped him in the head with the heel of her hand, not hard. "Who said anything about metaphors? We're just gardening here." Carefully, she tugged one of the branches down and snipped off the end which she handed to Kane, one magnificent bloom on a short length of stem. "A bit of pruning never hurt a rose. You could cut a flower a day for your girl back home and the roses would thank you for it. As would your princess, I suspect."
"She's not really my princess," he said, feeling his face flush as the scent hit him anew - even the smell reminded him of her.
"Pish," Dahlia said. "You're a noble now, aren't you? That's how events in Melmond came down, from what you've told me. If she feels for you as you do for her, she's yours. You just have to convince her father."
"I don't know if she does," Kane said.
Dahlia chuckled, shaking her head. "Boy, you are thick. It's a good thing you're useful."
He motioned to the wheeled chair. "Not so much at the moment. Ow! Hey!" he added as Dahlia hit him in the head again, harder this time, using her knuckles.
"You'll grow back stronger," she said. "That's no metaphor, lunkhead. It's simple fact. Now..." She handed him a pair of snips. "Let's see if you've been paying attention. Trim back that side."
The sky was everywhere, everywhere he looked. Blue, and cloudless, and vast, empty save for the sun over his left shoulder telling him he was going the right way. The airship's engines whirred, a steady hum.
What is this?
Thad stood at the railing. When he looked down, a desert stretched before him, featureless hills of sand. They could have been a few feet away. They could have been miles. There was nothing he could use to measure distance or scale.
Am I dreaming? He clutched his head.
"Are you well, my lord?" a deep, rumbling voice asked him. He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"What-?" He almost turned to face the owner of that voice - familiar, yet strange - but another voice called back to him from the ship's prow, a woman's voice.
"I see it!" she said, and Thad looked up to see a tall, curvy figure, her dark hair in long, thin braids that streamed out behind her in a chill wind. She raised a hand, pointing toward the horizon. "It's there! We're close!"
Thad's gaze followed the line of her finger toward a flying city.
And then something chirped.
Shiva? Thad thought.
The chirping grew more insistent. He felt a stirring at his side, and he soon realized he was lying in bed, the eidolon on top of him. She chirped again as she poked him sharply in the ribs.
He woke, head throbbing. He cracked his eyelids open and quickly squeezed them shut again. A window let the sun stream in, and the light seemed to pierce right to his brain. He groaned, covering his eyes with his arm.
"Thad?" Lena's voice. "Oh, thank Leviathan! Thad!" He felt her weight on the bed beside him, felt a cool Cure against his throbbing skull, and then the throbbing faded. A tightness in his chest seemed to ease.
"Here," Lena said, fussing over him. "You're dehydrated. Drink."
He felt the cup pressed to his lips and drank obediently.
Shiva chirped once more, a satisfied noise, then seemed to settle down at last, curling up atop his belly like a cat would do, a tiny spot of cold against the too-warm blankets.
He lowered his arm, risked cracking an eyelid again, prepared for the brightness this time. He blinked and the light from the window settled back into something more manageable as the room came into focus around him. He was in the clinic. That was right. He'd been in the clinic when they...
He remembered all at once. "Sarda?" Thad said, his voice cracking.
"He's fine," Lena told him. "He's asleep."
Thad checked the bed beside his where a mound of blankets covered Sarda's muddy aura. Thad watched, waiting for the rise and fall that showed Sarda was still breathing before he let himself relax again. "He's alright?" Thad asked.
"Better than you've been," Lena said, casting another Cure. "He's been more or less normal since you found him, but you... You slept so long. I was so worried."
"Sorry," Thad said, closing his eyes again. His aether sight was active, doing the work his eyes were too tired for, and he dismissed it as soon as he noticed, but it took time to fade. No wonder I'm sleepy if I leave that up all the time.
"Don't be!" said Lena. "You're awake now! That's all that matters." He felt the bed shift as Lena stood, saw her blue aura moving away toward the potions counter. "You must be starving. Would you like some toast? Miss Moira left you some of that green paste you like."
"Oh?" Thad said, thinking of basil. "Yeah, alright." He could see traces of Kane's aura in the empty bed beside his but Kane wasn't there. He tried to sit up, but Shiva poked him sharply in the ribs, emitting a little growl.
"Stay there," Lena said. "I'll bring it to you."
"Yeah, yeah," he said. He patted Shiva, and the eidolon let out a very definite giggle. Thad smiled.
As Lena worked at the counter, Thad opened his eyes again, finding the task much easier this time. He looked out one of the windows, trying to force his eyes to adjust to the daylight, and when he saw the blue patch of sky within the window frame, he remembered his dream.
He patted Shiva as he shifted to his side. "I'm not getting up," he assured her, slipping her off of his belly and onto the bed. He reached for the papers on the side table that stood between his bed and Kane's, sifted through them until he found his copy of Ffamran's drawing, the airship diagram with the warding spell in it.
He'd copied the original as best he could - there were some things even he wouldn't steal - but he still couldn't make sense of it, neither the machina parts nor the spell. He didn't know if that was because he'd copied it wrong or if the designs were just too advanced for him. He and Kane had spent hours staring at it. That had probably been the source of Thad's dream.
It had seemed so real. The airship, the woman at the prow, the flying city, that vast expanse of blue. There had been... something else... something he was supposed to do. He couldn't remember it now.
By the third day, when they met again, there were only three in favor of the Mysidian expedition, four against, and five had abstained. Some of those had surprised Lukahn. He'd been certain of his own vote, as certain as he'd been of Myron's and Brend's, but he'd assumed, wrongly, that he'd won Fiona over.
"I'll not vote until I've done more research," said Fiona as the assembled crowd voiced their displeasure when she abstained again.
"And what have you been doing these past three days?" Myron asked.
"You think three days enough time?" Fiona replied. "I spent longer than that deciding what to name my daughter! And the fate of the world hardly rested on that decision!"
"We've already had years to judge Ashward's character!" Myron said, pointing an accusing finger at Jack.
Fiona tilted her head back, looking down her nose at her colleague. "Well, considering that I've found nothing questionable in Ashward's character during our work together on the aetherite, I'm afraid I'm forced to question your judgement, Master Myron."
"Enough!" Randell commanded. "We'll reconvene in three days. This meeting is closed." So the voting ended with no majority on either side.
As the villagers shuffled out of the Chamber, Lukahn approached Myron. "Speak with her!" he said. "You taught her father, didn't you?"
Myron nodded. "And if he were still around, I'd ask him to intercede for us. Fiona has always been a willful child." Myron frowned as he gathered his things. "I think Wrede will come around to our side. Give me time."
He looked across the chamber, where even now Jack was speaking to the white mage who, surprisingly, had also abstained again. If they could pull Randell's son to their side, it might sway some of the other waverers. He nodded. "Fine. As long as you're conscious that Jack is taking his time as well!"
The potted plants covered every surface. More hung from hooks on the ceiling, their decorative foliage making even the light from the windows seem green. Jack's nose itched as he breathed their mossy scents, making him wonder if he was allergic to one of them. He looked toward the hook where his scarf and coat hung by the door. Was it silly to cover his face back up if he was already stripped to the waist?
It was the day after the meeting. Jack sat on the edge of Wrede's dining table, his shirt laying beside him. He held his right hand to his left shoulder, an ice spell focused on that spot making the dark pink scars seem white. The concentrated cold had long since pushed Jack through discomfort and into numbness.
He sneezed just as Wrede came back into the room. "Not ill, are we?" the white mage asked.
Jack shook his head. "Just cold." He looked at the tray Wrede had brought in with him, a collection of bottles of ointment and antiseptic beside a small silver scalpel gleaming in the vaguely green light. Jack quickly looked away. "I don't think I've ever been inside your house before."
Wrede chuckled, fiddling with the tray's contents. "I can guarantee you haven't. I'm sure I'd remember. There aren't many people I would let through my door. How's the shoulder?"
Jack let the spell go as he lowered his hand. "Ready."
Wrede prodded Jack's shoulder with his fingers, stretching the skin this way and that, finding the places where the scars were too tight. "Alright," he said, reaching for the scalpel. "Deep breath."
Jack breathed in, exhaling on a pained grunt. The blade, no longer than a fingernail, was frightfully sharp. In Wrede's steady hand, it quickly made an incision through the thick scar tissue. Despite the pain of the cut, Jack instantly felt the increased mobility in a joint that had felt stiff for weeks now.
"Arm out, please," Wrede said, pulling Jack's arm out to the side. He grabbed a strip of gauze from his tray, poured some antiseptic on it, and pressed it to the cut. There wasn't much blood, but Jack didn't know if that was because of his ice spell or because of the thickness of his skin in what was arguably the worst of his scars. Wrede's hand glowed with a Cure spell, then he lifted his hand, gauze and all, revealing a straight line of fresh pink skin. "Better?" Wrede asked.
Jack rolled his shoulder a few times. "Much." He touched the new scar, still somewhat tender, but the pain was fading quickly. It was smaller than some of the others. Jack had needed the burn scars near his joints - contractures, Wrede called them - cut several times over the years as he grew into a man. It had been a couple of years since the last one. "I had thought I was done with this."
Wrede shrugged. "Growing, yes. But you've put on some muscle lately."
"I'll be sure to quit doing that."
Wrede chuckled and shook his head. "It's good for you. Just don't wait when it bothers you. Makes it worse the longer you put it off. You could have had Lena-"
"No," Jack said.
Wrede rolled his eyes. "I wondered why you came to me instead of going to the clinic. Too shy to even let her see you?"
"There was no need. I have you for that." Jack hopped down from the table, rolling his shoulder some more as he picked up his shirt and pulled it on.
"And when you move on from here as you've said you intend to do?"
"Life's full of uncertainties, isn't it?" Jack said.
"Really, Jack, I've seen the way she looks at you. I'm sure she doesn't care what you look like under-"
"Yes, thank you. I need no romantic advice from a lifelong bachelor."
"Bachelor by choice," Wrede said, sounding offended. "Just because I have no romantic inclinations doesn't mean I don't know how the process works."
Jack shook his head. He strode over to his coat, retrieving it from the hook before he looked back at Wrede. Wrede's back was to him as the white mage sterilized the used scalpel with a bit of fire magic. Jack waited a moment, but Wrede didn't turn around. "You haven't cast your vote yet," Jack said.
Wrede stiffened visibly, but still didn't turn. "No. I haven't. I'm... not sure I support your decision to go."
"Why?"
"Jack..." Wrede said with a sigh.
"You don't believe Lukahn's prophecy. You never have."
"That's not it."
"Then why?"
"Because..." Wrede said carefully. "Because I know if Iris were here, she'd tell you not to go."
Jack froze in place. "What?"
Wrede shook his head. He turned, leaning back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest as he faced Jack. "It's too dangerous."
"But-"
"No, Jack. It is. I don't care if you're supposed to be some sort of prophesied hero. You're not invincible. I've seen that."
Unbidden, Jack's hand rose to cover his scarred face.
"We worked too hard to save your life, Iris and I. I can't just let you throw it away."
"Then help me," Jack said, forcing his hand down to his side. "Because I'm going whether you help me or not."
"You say that now. If there's any chance I can change your mind-"
"There isn't," Jack said, shrugging into his coat. "Thanks for this," he said, tapping his shoulder with his other hand. Then he stepped outside before Wrede could say anything more.
Another day passed. In the library, Thad stifled a yawn.
"You are clearly too tired to continue," Orin said. "I believe you have had enough for one day."
"I'm fine," Thad protested, bending over his book again. "This is just sort of boring." It was another version of the tales of Ffamran, written in an older version of common speech that somehow managed to make the paladin's legendary exploits seem stuffy and dull. "Romantic," Orin had called it, though there wasn't any kissing involved that Thad had found so far.
Orin shrugged, looking down at his maps again. "You have read these stories many times already. It is not surprising you are finding nothing new."
They shared a table with Lord Redden. The two older men had been studying maps of Mysidia and the desert surrounding it, planning their trip, but Thad had begun to notice that Redden wasn't helping much, seeming distracted by a volume on High Leifenish conjugations, something Thad couldn't imagine holding his own attention for more than three minutes.
Thad shook his head, focusing on his own book again, but it couldn't seem to hold his attention either. Maybe he should go back to the clinic after all. "Do you think Pearl would let me borrow this?" he said, holding up his book.
"He will not," Orin said. "I do not know what you did to get on his bad side, but now that you have done so, there will be no redeeming yourself."
"That's not fair! I didn't steal anything!"
"Some would call 'borrowing without permission' stealing. Such people are less likely to grant their permission in the future." He reached for a quill pen, making a note on one of his maps. "You are lucky I am here to smooth things over, or you and your friends would not have access to this collection at all."
Thad grumbled, slipping the book he wanted under his shirt so that he could sneak it out with him. "I need a nap," he said.
Orin nodded. "Take care of yourself, young master Shipman. Our time here grows shorter by the day." Redden, still focused on his book, muttered in agreement without looking up.
Thad wove between tables in the library. It was busy now, busier than it had been. Books on Mysidia and the Sisters were in high demand as the sages and their apprentices - and plenty of the townspeople besides - tried to determine the veracity of Jack's claims that the orbs, their quest, related back to the Sisters' Bane. People glanced at him as he went by, and he felt sure he could tell from their expressions which side of the issue they came down on, but only the sages' votes mattered and the sages were still undecided.
Still, Thad kept an eye on the people who frowned at him. All he needed was for one of them to confront him about his affiliation with Jack, causing a ruckus and drawing Pearl's attention. Though Pearl was angry at Thad at the moment, the old librarian did support their decision to go to Mysidia, for while they might die in the attempt they might also bring him back some valuable research. As much as he wanted to borrow the book, Thad didn't want to do anything that might change Pearl's mind on that score. They had little enough support as it was.
He managed to cross the wide room without encountering Pearl. He assumed Pearl was sequestered away in his office. He was near the exit when he heard Pearl's shout, heard the office door slamming open. Thad thought at first that he was caught, that somehow Pearl had known he was stealing a book and was coming to take it back, but when he ducked quickly behind the nearest chair, he saw that Pearl was yelling at someone else.
"You go too far!" the old man yelled, pushing Jack roughly out of his office. "I'll not have it, do you hear? Take your blasphemies elsewhere! Get out!"
Jack stumbled to his feet, holding his hands out, placating, but his voice was too quiet and calm for Thad to hear what he said.
"Heathen!" Pearl shouted, pointing toward the door. "Get out! Out!"
Thad cringed. He knew the archivist tended to throw things when he was angry, but nothing like that happened. Pearl only stood quivering in anger, his pointing finger seeming to point right at Thad.
Jack looked around. Several of the people who had frowned at Thad earlier looked angrily at Jack now. Some of them stood. Jack kept his hands raised, said, "I'm going," in a voice loud enough to carry, but as he stepped back some of those in the crowd stepped forward as if to stop him. Thad tensed, ready to go to Jack's aid if it came to a fight, but just then Redden and Orin rushed forward, speaking hastily to Pearl, trying to shuffle him back into his office.
Thad popped up from his hiding place and waved to Jack. "Come on! This way!"
Jack hurried to the door, and the two of them rushed out together.
"What was that about?" Thad asked.
"Nothing," Jack said. "Just a theory." He covered the earth in long strides. "I need to find master Randell," he said, leaving Thad behind.
"Hey, wait!" Thad said, trying to hurry after him, but he was too tired to keep up. He sighed, pulling his stolen book from under his shirt, and headed back toward his bed at the clinic.
At the next meeting, to Lukahn's surprise, Konrad voted in favor of the expedition. Jack hadn't even attended that one. In fact, the boy hadn't been sighted in public since that day in the library when he'd made that blasphemous claim. Apparently, Jack had taken his research to Konrad.
"It's not too late to change it!" Lukahn argued. The meeting was over, the chamber emptying around them, but Lukahn confronted Konrad before he'd even stood from his chair. "Jack can be persuasive, I know, but if you would speak with the people, I think you'll find-"
Konrad raised his hand for silence. "I have, Silas. Yes, Jack came to me, but I've also spoken with the apprentices, the elders... at least ten different families! As far as I can tell, the town seems fairly evenly split on this issue. You're asking people to weigh their faith against your prophecy!" He sighed. "If there's even a chance for Ramuh's return-"
"And if none of us live to see it?"
Konrad shrugged, slipping past him. "That's up to the gods. Excuse me."
Lukahn growled, clenching his hands in fists, so focused on Konrad's retreating back that it was some moments before he realized someone else was standing beside him. When he turned, he found himself face to face with Wrede Randell.
"Master Lukahn," Wrede said. "Could we talk?"
Lena wiped her brow with the back of her forearm, trying to stop the sweat from slipping into eyes already stinging from the pungent grat root she was chopping. She had to use the operating table as a cutting board, as she hadn't left herself any other space. At the counter, eight cauldrons of varying sizes bubbled on their stands in a tidy row while a large soup pot with a broken handle simmered atop the corner stove. The fires were small, but the heat was surprisingly intense; she couldn't control the temperature with black magic the way the other white mages here could have done. Though she'd left both doors open in hopes of a cross breeze, there wasn't much wind today. The whole clinic smelled of sage smoke; Lena had burned an entire bundle of it before she began.
The new antidote had worked well, Moira said, but as they still didn't know what was ailing the goats, they needed a continual supply of it. And as the new recipe was shelf stable, Lena had decided to make herself useful by brewing the largest batch she could manage. It was something to do, at least.
It had been - what had it been? - three weeks now since the sages had begun their meetings. And Lena had managed to miss all of them. She'd been treating Kane, treating Thad, treating Sarda, treating the goats… She'd even met some of the other villagers now when they'd come to the clinic for healing and found only her there. The various visitors had shared their gossip, so she knew about Konrad's vote at the last meeting, knew it had rocked the sages on both sides of the issue. The next vote, which she was determined to attend for herself, was suspected to be the last. She just had to keep her mind occupied until then.
When the grat root was finely diced, she swept it into a bowl, took the bowl to the counter, and began sprinkling a bit of the root into each of the cauldrons and the pot, eyeballing the measurements as much by instinct as by long practice. Brewing potions had been a large part of her curriculum in White Hall, and the clinic here was laid out the same way. She knew where everything was, knew what needed to be done. The clinic had grown comfortable for her these past weeks. She felt more like her old self there, the simple white mage she'd been before all of her adventures had started. Before she had real friends...
It seemed ungrateful of her to admit she was lonely without them. After all, she wanted them to be well. But she missed them now that they weren't there. While Kane still spent his nights at the clinic, he was never around during the day, not since Wrede had given him leave to walk about on crutches. He'd go off with Dahlia, or to the library with Thad.
Thad seemed better too, well enough that he'd grown tired of sitting still. Not well enough that Lena had been comfortable with him wandering off, but he hadn't asked her. He used his time spells on Kane, giving Kane more time to recover, and it was plain that his spells wore him down. He only returned to the clinic to sleep off his efforts. He and Lena hadn't exchanged more than a handful of words in several days.
Even Sarda had abandoned her. Uncomfortable with the clinic, and avoiding Master Lukahn, Sarda stayed on their ship with the rest of the crew. As lonely as she was, Lena almost considered asking him to come back. Almost.
She took the bowl to the wash bucket and cleaned it out before turning back to the table to start the next ingredient. When she did, she caught a movement at the door and looked up to find 'Dine standing there, grim-faced.
"Hi," Lena said, worried at the dark mood she felt from the other woman. She motioned at the counter. "I'll clean this up when I'm done, I promise."
"I'm not bothered about a bit of mess, girl," 'Dine said, waving Lena's concerns away brusquely, like she was swatting a fly. "I'm bothered by you and your friends!"
Lena sighed, setting the knife down. She couldn't focus on her hands now, not while she was listening both to 'Dine's words and her emotions, like trying to follow two conversations at once. 'Dine's voice was angry, but underneath that anger she was afraid, so afraid. "What's wrong?" she asked.
'Dine snorted. "You don't get out much, do you? Don't hear the news from town?"
Lena shook her head, gesturing toward the chaos that was currently the clinic. "Not as often as I'd like. I've been busy."
'Dine crossed her arms over her chest. It looked confrontational, but to Lena it felt like the woman was trying to shrink in on herself rather than face whatever had scared her so much. "In the Chamber meeting this afternoon, I was there. Jack said-"
"That was today?" Lena said, disappointed in herself. How had she managed to miss it again?
"Yes!" 'Dine snapped. "Are you deaf? I just said!"
Lena bit back an apology, certain that if she interrupted again it would only make things worse.
'Dine went on. "There were rumors - I'd heard the rumors. He'd already said something in the library, to Alistair. He's always getting under Alistair's skin like that. No one thought he meant it. But then Myron confronted him about it in the meeting, asked him outright and he... he didn't deny it." 'Dine fell silent.
Lena felt a chill now, her sweat going cold. Had she really thought the room was too hot a moment ago? "What did Jack say?"
'Dine frowned. She was still afraid, and angry, but Lena saw tears in the woman's eyes and that struck Lena as worse than her fear had been. "He said he has reason to think Hildagarde was a dark mage. The youngest Sister. Maybe all of them."
Lena felt pain now at that admission. Not just the anger and fear, but a deep abiding grief. Lena didn't know what to say, momentarily overwhelmed by 'Dine's emotions. She waited for 'Dine to go on, but 'Dine just watched her, waiting for some kind of response. "Why does that bother you?" Lena asked. "It was centuries ago. Why should it matter?"
'Dine's eyes met hers, the lines of her mouth twitching with the effort of control, of trying not to weep. "I was raised in that faith. My mother... She died early in the mage war. To them. Dark mages. They take souls, did you know that?"
"I've heard-" Lena started to say, but 'Dine wasn't finished yet.
"'She took the souls of her sisters with her.' They all say that, the legends. There is no version of the story where it doesn't say that, exactly that. Jack thinks it means literally. If it's true, if the Sisters themselves were dark mages, then-" The tears flowed freely now. Lena stepped around the table, tried to hug the woman. She couldn't help herself. The instinct to offer comfort was too strong. But 'Dine pushed her away. "Have you considered what I told you?"
I believe he's a dark mage... I believe it in my soul.
"No," Lena said without hesitation. "Not for a minute."
"If he's lied to you about who he is, maybe he's lying about-"
"I'm a soul reader," Lena said. "He can't lie to me about who he is. He's a good person."
'Dine was quiet for a long moment. Finally, she said, "Better than the sacred Sisters?"
"I-" Lena stopped. If a goddess could be a dark mage... "We don't... we don't know that he's right about them."
"As you say," 'Dine said, shrugging. She wiped her reddened eyes, but the tears had ceased. Only her angry frown remained. "See that you clean this up," she snapped, then she whirled around and stormed out the door as that thundercloud of feeling pulled along after her.
Lena stood there, stunned by the emptiness she felt now. How full the room had seemed... She looked down at the operating table, the scatter of herbs there, and tried to remember what she'd been doing before, which step in the potion-making process she'd left off on. She couldn't think. I believe he's a dark mage...
"Lena?"
She shrieked, hand flying to her heart, but it was only Kane standing in the open doorway. He was pale, sweating, leaning heavily on his crutches. "Oh, Kane!" she said, hurrying to his side. "Where have you been? You should be resting!" She didn't feel his anger until she was beside him, until her hand touched his arm. She drew back as though she'd been burned.
"I was at the meeting," he said, voice strained. She didn't know if it was because of his temper or physical exhaustion.
She tried to get an arm around him again, though she had to grit her teeth against what he was feeling. "It's over? Have we lost?"
"Not quite," Kane grunted, letting her steer him toward his bed. "The vote was split."
"Split?" Again Lena felt his anger bubbling just below the surface. She did the math in her head. They had Fiona's vote, and Phin's. They'd been waiting on... "Wrede? Wrede voted against us?"
"The bastard," Kane spat. At the bed, he handed the crutches off to Lena and eased back, immediately propping his leg up on a pile of pillows. He rolled his ankle, hissing at the pain there.
Lena suspected he was as angry at his condition as he was about the vote, if not more so. She had a Cure ready in seconds. Neither of them spoke as she took his foot between her hands and rubbed the sore spots as the spell sank in. "So... the meetings will continue?"
Kane nodded. "Until at least one vote changes."
Days passed.
Jack circled the edge of the lake, heading toward the forest on the far side. Lena walked beside him. He thought about holding her hand as they walked, but the day was cold enough that she kept her arms crossed in front of her, huddled in the sleeves of her hooded robe. Jack kept his hands in his pockets, the weight of the little conch shell on one side a constant niggle in the back of his mind. Lena didn't seem to be in the mood to hold hands anyway.
They were near the overlook when he said, "Not much farther. He's close."
"I can't believe he'd wander off like that!" Lena grumbled. "Wrede is going to be so cross!"
Jack nodded. In his aether sight, Kane's yellow aura made a clear trail for him. "I suspect that was Kane's intent," he said. He knew Kane had forbidden Wrede to treat him since the last meeting of the sages, when Wrede had voted against their journey.
"But what was he hoping to achieve by it?" Lena said, shaking her head. "Yes, Wrede'll be annoyed hearing that Kane's walked so far on that leg, but if he's undone all of Wrede's work...! Oh, we should have brought Jasper, or the wheeled chair. An elixir at least. I can't imagine he'll be able to walk back. And-" She trailed off. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"
"You're worried about him," Jack said, shrugging.
"But I shouldn't burden you with that. I know you have other things on your mind."
Jack's stomach lurched. He had almost - almost - managed to forget it for a moment, walking beside her like this. He'd given the sages a month, only a month to decide, and that month was almost up. If they wanted to reach Mysidia by the solstice, they would need to begin their journey soon, with or without the aid of Crescent Lake. At the thought of time running out, all of his fears pushed their way back into the forefront of his thoughts. "It's fine," he said weakly.
"It isn't," Lena said, grumbling again for his concerns just as she had grumbled for Kane. She made a derisive sound in her throat. "A split vote? Why have an even number of sages if you're going to require a vote for everything? What happens if none of them change their mind?"
"Split votes are uncommon," Jack told her. "There hasn't been a split on an issue in more than fifty years. The votes usually go one way or the other."
"But if just one of them changes their vote at the next meeting-"
"I know," Jack said. "We'll lose," just as Lena finished, "-we'll win." They both lapsed into silence.
"You have to believe, Jack," Lena said quietly.
He only shrugged. He had trouble believing anything good could happen to him.
They found Kane sitting on a stone beside the lake, crutches at his side, his weak leg stretched out in front of him as he gazed out across the water. Jack kicked at the scree on their path, intentionally alerting Kane to their presence. Lena, in her current mood, didn't make for a pleasant surprise.
Kane turned at the sound. "Oh, hi, you two," he said, smiling up at them. Jack noted how pale his face looked, how much Kane seemed to be sweating despite the autumn chill.
Lena surely noticed it too. She stood with her hands on her hips, her face a thundercloud. "Kane Cidolfus Carmine! What are you doing out here?"
Kane winced. "Oh gods."
Jack snorted as he tried to suppress a laugh, his mood lifting instantly. "Your middle name is Cidolfus?"
"For my uncle," Kane groaned. "Who told you? Was it Orin? Gods, I'll kill him."
"It was Sarah, if you must know," Lena said, crossing her arms again. "Back in Cornelia. I've been saving it for when you were being particularly stupid."
"It was just a little walk!"
"Around the entire lake?" Lena said.
"Well, I... I wanted to see if I could do it." Kane actually looked sheepish.
"I'm curious," Jack said. "What was your plan if you couldn't?"
Kane shifted on his stone, shoulders hunched in embarrassment. He tried what Jack thought of as the "charming" smile. "I, uh, hadn't actually thought of that."
The smile didn't work on Lena. She tsked like a mother scolding a child. "You shouldn't be forcing yourself! It's too far!"
"Not as far as Mysidia," Kane grumbled, and Jack felt that pit in his stomach again. They needed to leave soon, and Kane couldn't even circle the lake.
Lena covered her face with a hand as she sighed. "Kane, you may not respect Wrede now, but you do have to follow his medical advice." She tugged Jack's sleeve, pulling him after her as she went to Kane's side. "Help me get him back, please."
Jack nodded. "Alright," he said, stepping forward, bending to get an arm around his friend. "Let's get you up."
Kane only grimaced in reply. He really did look pale. This close, Jack could feel the heat coming off of him, but whether it was fever or exertion, he didn't know. Jack clenched his jaw as he tugged Kane from the ground and Kane struggled to avoid his bad leg. "Gods!" Jack grunted. "You're even heavier than before!"
"It's 'cause you're going soft," Kane said, panting as he leaned heavily on Jack.
Jack shook his head. "It's Miss Dahlia's cooking is what it is. I've seen how you eat."
Kane rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you actually ate you'd have the strength to help me out here, did you ever think of that?"
"Hush, both of you," Lena said. She waved a glowing hand, then shouldered Kane's crutches. "Jack, carry him."
Kane suddenly became much lighter, his feet rising off the ground. "Ah, come on, Lena! It's humiliating!"
"You should have thought of that before you walked so far from the clinic!" she called over her shoulder as she started walking back.
Jack chuckled, shifting Kane over one of his shoulders. "Well, you heard her. Just relax. I've got you."
"Absolutely not!" Kane said, poking him in the side. "Put me down."
Jack patted his bottom. "Lie back and think of Cornelia."
"Not funny," Kane grumbled.
"It's a little funny."
He kept grumbling as they continued up the path back to town. It didn't take long for Jack to catch up to Lena despite her head start - he had a longer stride, and Kane was practically no weight at all with the Float spell in place. She smiled when he reached her.
"Are you enjoying this?" Kane asked. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
The smile vanished as Lena tried to school her features. "That would be unprofessional," she said, lips twitching with poorly suppressed mirth.
Kane grunted, clearly unconvinced. They walked a little farther before Kane poked Jack in the side once more. "What's your middle name, then?"
"Pardon?" Jack said.
"You heard me. I want to be able to call you out the next time you do something stupid."
"Ah," Jack said, nodding. "Yes, I can see the appeal, Cidolfus-"
"Hey!"
"-but I don't have one."
Lena looked at him, brow furrowed. "You don't?"
Jack shook his head.
"Oh," Kane said, deflating. Then he brightened again. "Want me to give you one?"
"No," Jack said firmly.
"Can I help?" Lena asked.
"No," Jack repeated.
"Yes, of course!" Kane said, ignoring him.
Jack sighed, but he smiled beneath his scarf, listening to the two of them trying out names for him just to see how they sounded. Most of them were ridiculous - on purpose, Jack assumed, an attempt at good-natured teasing.
"Something humble," Lena said, her grin impish. "Befitting his personality. Ramuh, perhaps?"
Jack barked a laugh. "Nothing so lofty, please."
"What about Clyde?" Kane said. "I knew a man named Clyde once. First man I ever arrested."
Jack laughed again. "Don't make me drop you!"
"Is it much farther to town?" Lena asked. "I don't know how much longer that Float will last."
"Not far," Jack said. He opened his senses to the aether. "Besides, I can monitor the spell. If it starts to feel weak, I'll let you..." Something was out there. "...know," he finished lamely. He sent his senses toward the water, turned his head to look out toward the lake.
"What?" Kane said, tensing. "What is it? Put me down! Give me a weapon!"
"No, no," Jack said quickly. "It's not... It's nothing dangerous, it's... I can feel... I can feel the earth."
"Is that unusual?" Lena asked, laying a hand on his arm.
Jack shook his head. "No, it's just... new..." He'd felt the earth before, through Kane's sword, so he knew how it felt, but he hadn't done it without the sword before. "I think it's because Kane's so close to me."
"Flattered, really," Kane said. "Now put me down."
Jack ignored him, sending his senses out, out, out into the water, the land. He could feel it now, the forest, the lake bed, and there at the bottom of the lake was a stone that had come from... somewhere else. He prodded it with his senses, feeling around its edges.
The sage stone, he realized, a chunk of volcanic glass from nearby Gulug. It was the stone they used in the trial. No one could become a sage unless they had the strength, with their magic, to lift the stone from the lakebed to the surface. At least part of the challenge, Jack knew, was finding the stone to begin with, reading that subtle change in its aura that indicated that this piece didn't belong here. And Jack had found it. By accident.
"Oh..." he breathed. "Oh, you two... I've just had the wildest idea."
The next day, the sages met again. Alphi and Marcus leaned against the wall, not even trying to see the sages at the room's center anymore. The crowd in front of them was far too thick for it today.
"I think the whole town has turned up," Alphi whispered. The room was packed, but deadly quiet enough that Alphi could barely get the words out. He cringed as several people nearby turned to see who had spoken, their glances angry as though he had shouted at a funeral.
"Word is that Ashward's planning something," Marcus said, not seeming to care about the looks he was getting.
"Like what?" Alphi asked.
Marcus shrugged. "No idea. Best guess? He's convinced Wrede to change his vote."
Alphi nodded. That made sense. They'd all been surprised when Wrede had voted against the expedition.
There was little discussion among the sages. Myron and Lukahn repeated their arguments - again - but none of the others took the floor. They'd said everything they had to say, apparently. The meeting hadn't been in session more than a quarter hour before Randell called for the vote again.
"Fiona," Randell called, and Fiona stood.
"Aye," she said, her vote unchanged.
"Graham," Randell called, and Graham stood.
One by one, they cast their votes as they were called. None of them changed. Finally, only two remained: Wrede Randell and his father.
"Wrede?" Master Randell called, and the hush that fell over the room made the previous quiet seem loud as a hurricane. Alphi could hear the creaking of Wrede's chair as he stood. He could hear the rustle of Wrede's robes.
"Nay," Wrede pronounced, taking his seat again.
"Huh," said Marcus. "I guess he wasn't planning anything after all."
"Guess not," Alphi said.
The crowd murmured, many people in it apparently having shared Marcus's theory. "Order," Randell called, quieting them again. He stood. "And my own vote remains Aye. We remain divided on this issue. We'll reconvene in-"
"Master Randell," Jack said, and Alphi could just see the top of his head as he stood at the center of the chamber. "Before you close the meeting, I've something I'd like to say."
"The votes are cast, boy," Myron growled. "You can wait three days for this farce to be repeated and have your say then."
"Not about the vote," Jack said. "New business, for the Circle's consideration."
Whispers filled the room, their questioning tone unmistakable, but when Alphi looked to Marcus, Marcus only shrugged. He had no theories this time.
As the whispers faded, Master Randell said, "Speak."
There was perfect silence as all in attendance waited to hear what Jack would say next. Alphi almost thought he could hear Jack taking a steadying breath - or maybe that was him. Jack's words rang through the silent hall, firm and clear. "I, Jack Carmine, hereby exercise my right as a citizen of Crescent Lake to undergo the sage's trial."
Then the room grew very loud indeed.
Author's Note: 11/6/21 - The grandparents have vacated the premises. They're still not back in their house (clean up and repair from a house fire takes months!) but they've found a temporary place of their own. It's great having my house to myself, having time to write without interruptions again. But I do miss them a little bit, and the dogs miss them a lot.
Currently, it's NaNoWriMo and I am (once more) planning to spend the month putting all the words (All! The! Words!) on this story right here in an effort to finally get it finished and done after all of these years. (Spoiler alert: I'm not going to finish it this month. I'm just not. There are too many words.)
Also, shoutout to all my Ace homebodies with the potted plant collections. You know who you are. Platonic hugs and kisses.