Rosethorn never went to bed that night; she saw no real point. Instead she had spent the dark hours before midnight coaxing oils from the lothlóre flowers that she had found growing behind her well. Shortly before midnight, she changed into her clean habit and left for the Hub.
When she arrived, she eased the door open and slipped in. Glimmering shadows from the banked coals of the kitchen fire cast the room in a demonic glow. Rosethorn shook off a feeling of unease and padded across the tiles. There was a whisper of fabric behind her, and then a rather large dedicate stood at her side. Rosethorn gasped and thumped into the side of the oven.
Dedicate Gorse caught her arm and pulled her back. "My dear duck, why didn't you go through the Heartfire doors?" he rumbled.
"I don't know, I just. . . didn't feel like it, I suppose."
Gorse smiled knowingly. "Eventually, everything that has happened will come together in a great pattern. You'll see the sense of it someday, just not today." He pushed her towards the door to the inside of the Hub. "If you come back after your rounds, I'll have something for you."
Rosethorn smiled tiredly and slipped into the Heartfire room. Several other dedicates were already there, so Rosethorn quietly lit her candle and knelt on the dirt floor near the fire. She took a deep breath for seven counts, held it, breathed out, and began her meditation. Her magic flared around her in a bright starburst, then swirled into her core.
Across the room, Crane watched her carefully. The whole thing was quite idiotic. Arguing about people in the Mire. Of course she was right, I see it now. She's always right. Too proud to accept any apology, though. She can't forgive me even if she wanted to. Sadness pinched his face. She's a beautiful creature, but she can't see herself. Always seeking to be better, stronger, quicker, more generous, more clever. She can't see that she's already the best.
Showing posts with label The Last Night. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Last Night. Show all posts
Monday, October 10, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Last Night, Chapter 10, Green Man's Blessing
A/N- Perhaps no one has noticed, but Rosethorn has appeared in 7 Circle books, which is more books than any other chareacter, including the four. . . 4 the win! (haha, get the pun?)
Maybe it was a stupid thing to do, but Rosethorn was pleased with the effect. Green beans clambered up the side of the cottage and the front lawn was velvety green grass. The flower bed no longer held weeds, but vibrant flowers and herbs. Ivy had carefully grown along the white fence and covered the painted tigerlily.
Rosethorn shaded her eyes against the rising sun and looked towards the back yard. It had taken all night to grow the front side of the cottage grounds and she hadn't started the back. She sighed happily and stumbled tiredly into the cottage, where a scarred and ancient wooden table dominated the kitchen-dining area. Her clothes and possessions were strew messily across the the table and she rummaged through them, searching for a small glass bottle.
A moment later, it caught her eye, winking in the light. She uncorked it, poured a small amount of orange powder into a chipped mug from a cabinet and walked outside to find the backyard well. It was in the far corner, already hung with a chain and bucket. Rosethorn drew some water, dribbled it into her cup and stirred with her finger while walking back to the cottage.
Another flash of light gleamed nearby, and Rosethorn turned to it automatically. She squinted; something hung, sparkling, from a tree branch. Her mind went blank with fury as she gripped the object in her hand. It was the blue Mila flower necklace. She strode into the cottage, slammed her cup into the table and stalked into the small alter room near the front door.
It was dusty and dark, but Rosethorn quickly lit the tapers and votive candles that she knew would be there. Light flickered against worn, golden god-figures. A small, blue-green dish lay on the side. Rosethorn coiled the necklace into it.
"Green Man and Mila please accept my offering," she mumbled. "In remembrance of good friends and warm nights and everything that made us one." She knelt a moment longer, twining her fingers through her long reddish hair, like Crane used to do. Rosethorn blinked at the sudden memory, then stood and ran back to the kitchen. Her shears lay on the table where she had left them. She twisted her hair into a plait, grabbed the shears and marched back to her alter. "This is to show that I'm done with my past!" She held her braid in one hand and cut it off. Her remaining hair fluttered about her cheekbones, and she shouted "I'm ready to start over! I don't need men in my life! I can live my own way!" She threw the shears down, stomped out of Discipline and walked the familiar road to the Water Temple.
It was only a few minutes before she was at the temple's delicate glass and iron doors. She threw one door open and leaned in, just far enough to reach the door-keeper's desk. There sat a young, curly-haired woman drawing absently on a scrap of paper. Rosethorn dropped her braid on the table, snarled "Do something useful for someone with it!" and slammed the door shut, rattling the glass in its panes.
Her foul mood lasted her the trip back to Discipline. She threw the front door open, and growled in frustration when she saw Niklaren Goldeye sitting at her table.
"Master Goldeye."
"Dedicate Rosethorn. I felt magical disruptions last night and I felt the need to come and stare. You've done an incredible job. I know few others who could accomplish all you've done in one night." Niko maintained what he hoped was a straight face. He knew no one, besides himself, who could raise a full grown garden overnight.
She blushed, and tried to look annoyed at the comment. She shook her hair away from her face, and Niko blinked surprisedly.
"You've cut your hair I see."
"And you haven't."
Ever the cynic. "True." He gestured to her hair. "It suits you."
It was the dedicate's turn to be surprised. "Thank you. . . I suppose." She fingered the ragged edges, then scooped up her shears and walked to the window.
It took Niko a moment to figure out what she was doing. "My dear, are you trying to cut your hair with shears and a window?"
"So?"
"Let me help you." He pressed her into a chair, snatched the shears away, and drew a thin, sharp knife from his belt. The mage carefully evened the edges of her hair.
"Do you do this much?" Rosethorn asked, working to sound un-sarcastic.
"Occasionally. Do you?"
Rosethorn twisted around to see if he was smiling, but his face was blank. "Yes. I so enjoy cutting my hair before a window."
He brushed the red trimmings from her shoulders. "Finished. You didn't do to badly on your own."
"Mm. What are you here for, really? You see magic every day. It shouldn't be a surprise, especially around here."
"Honored Moonstream was wondering if you'd be willing to accommodate a guest here."
Rosethorn frowned. "I don't see why not. This cottage is huge. I don't understand why Froststar picked this one and not the other."
Niko raised his eyebrows cryptically. "She has her reasons." He stared around the kitchen. "Have you chosen a room yet? You might want to do so, before your resident arrives."
Rosethorn sighed. "That one." She pointed to a smooth-planed door.
"Alright." Niko gathered Rosethorn's possessions in his arms and walked to the door. Rosethorn scrambled after him, barely managing to catch the door for him. He set his load on the cot against the wall while Rosethorn looked around.
It was a small room, painted cream with dark wood paneling around the bottom of the walls. Shelves and a cabinet covered one wall and the bed and a small desk took up the second. There was a window with a flower-box and battered stool.
The two mages worked quietly to organize Rosethorn's clothes and set them in the cabinet. She set the Anderran box on a shelf nearly full of dusty herbalism books.
Niko set a pair of unused sandals on the shelf, then turned to Rosethorn. "You're sure you'll be alright? This is, well it isn't your typical idea of what a dedicate does, I suppose."
Rosethorn sighed. "I was in complete control of my actions. This is the life I've chosen for myself." She drew a thread of magic out of her core and coiled it in her palm. It danced around her fingertips, casting a flicking greenish glow across her face. The trick had taken time to master, and the concentration needed helped her to mask her emotions. "I won't really have to see him again, at least not in anything but passing."
Niko shrugged expressionlessly. "He isn't a bad man. Just a bit impatient and quick-thinking." And if you haven't noticed, you're much the same. Quick temper, fast mind, and a touch too sensitive. He froze as a scrap of color drifted past his face in the air the Rosethorn had just blown out. He tuned the dedicate out and concentrated on the color, hoping it might form a vision.
The colors twisted, then jumped into a recognizable form. It was Rosethorn and a golden-skinned boy leaning over the Temple battlements. Magic gushed from them like a river. Rosethorn laying limp on the cot of the very room she was standing in. Then the same boy, in a garden that shone like a green beacon. Rosethorn again, in a small stone room, snarling at someone Niko couldn't see. Rosethorn rushing into the arms of a cat-like woman with glossy, black curls. Then the vision snapped into a thousand fragments of color and Niko stumbled backwards.
Rosethorn caught him and eased him upright again. "Are you alright?" She frowned.
Niko paused uncertain of what to say. Uncertain of how Rosethorn would react. "I saw a vision. . . in the wind."
She raised her eyebrows. "You can scry. Don't be afraid to say it. I tried a few times, and didn't really find it particularly useful."
Niko coughed. "Pardon?"
"Stupid little bits of futures and present, past and possible futures and futures that will never come. I can't see myself using it. I like everything here and now where I can see it before my nose without having it shatter into pieces." She glanced away and sniffed. "Blasted summer colds."
Niko carefully pretended not to notice her watering eyes. "If you'll sit with me, I'll tell you about the research team for Froststar."
Rosethorn nodded, clearly curious.
"She's had this problem for a while now. A year, maybe. Every time she uses her magic, it doesn't replenish like it should. In fact, it doesn't come back at all. We just keep lending her our magic. That's why she's stopped using the flashy magic she used to do at the solstices and equinoxes. She can't drain herself, or she'll die from lack of power."
Rosethorn frowned. "What have you done about it?"
"Herbal teas, just about ever cure for disease that we know of," Niko counted things off on his fingers. "We tried an infusion of aconite, then murtlap, dittany."
"Have you tried hellebore?"
It was Niko's turn to frown. "That's to prevent people from spelling you."
"It seems as though you've tried everything natural."
Niko ran his fingers along his mustache and stared into space for a long moment. "I suppose it's worth a try, but you'll have to get the rest of the team to agree."
Rosethorn snorted. "I couldn't do that even if I had the Green Man's blessing."
Niko sighed. "Don't give up on yourself. It's a decent idea. Our first meeting is tonight, after the midnight services. Come to Froststar's office after you're done."
Maybe it was a stupid thing to do, but Rosethorn was pleased with the effect. Green beans clambered up the side of the cottage and the front lawn was velvety green grass. The flower bed no longer held weeds, but vibrant flowers and herbs. Ivy had carefully grown along the white fence and covered the painted tigerlily.
Rosethorn shaded her eyes against the rising sun and looked towards the back yard. It had taken all night to grow the front side of the cottage grounds and she hadn't started the back. She sighed happily and stumbled tiredly into the cottage, where a scarred and ancient wooden table dominated the kitchen-dining area. Her clothes and possessions were strew messily across the the table and she rummaged through them, searching for a small glass bottle.
A moment later, it caught her eye, winking in the light. She uncorked it, poured a small amount of orange powder into a chipped mug from a cabinet and walked outside to find the backyard well. It was in the far corner, already hung with a chain and bucket. Rosethorn drew some water, dribbled it into her cup and stirred with her finger while walking back to the cottage.
Another flash of light gleamed nearby, and Rosethorn turned to it automatically. She squinted; something hung, sparkling, from a tree branch. Her mind went blank with fury as she gripped the object in her hand. It was the blue Mila flower necklace. She strode into the cottage, slammed her cup into the table and stalked into the small alter room near the front door.
It was dusty and dark, but Rosethorn quickly lit the tapers and votive candles that she knew would be there. Light flickered against worn, golden god-figures. A small, blue-green dish lay on the side. Rosethorn coiled the necklace into it.
"Green Man and Mila please accept my offering," she mumbled. "In remembrance of good friends and warm nights and everything that made us one." She knelt a moment longer, twining her fingers through her long reddish hair, like Crane used to do. Rosethorn blinked at the sudden memory, then stood and ran back to the kitchen. Her shears lay on the table where she had left them. She twisted her hair into a plait, grabbed the shears and marched back to her alter. "This is to show that I'm done with my past!" She held her braid in one hand and cut it off. Her remaining hair fluttered about her cheekbones, and she shouted "I'm ready to start over! I don't need men in my life! I can live my own way!" She threw the shears down, stomped out of Discipline and walked the familiar road to the Water Temple.
It was only a few minutes before she was at the temple's delicate glass and iron doors. She threw one door open and leaned in, just far enough to reach the door-keeper's desk. There sat a young, curly-haired woman drawing absently on a scrap of paper. Rosethorn dropped her braid on the table, snarled "Do something useful for someone with it!" and slammed the door shut, rattling the glass in its panes.
Her foul mood lasted her the trip back to Discipline. She threw the front door open, and growled in frustration when she saw Niklaren Goldeye sitting at her table.
"Master Goldeye."
"Dedicate Rosethorn. I felt magical disruptions last night and I felt the need to come and stare. You've done an incredible job. I know few others who could accomplish all you've done in one night." Niko maintained what he hoped was a straight face. He knew no one, besides himself, who could raise a full grown garden overnight.
She blushed, and tried to look annoyed at the comment. She shook her hair away from her face, and Niko blinked surprisedly.
"You've cut your hair I see."
"And you haven't."
Ever the cynic. "True." He gestured to her hair. "It suits you."
It was the dedicate's turn to be surprised. "Thank you. . . I suppose." She fingered the ragged edges, then scooped up her shears and walked to the window.
It took Niko a moment to figure out what she was doing. "My dear, are you trying to cut your hair with shears and a window?"
"So?"
"Let me help you." He pressed her into a chair, snatched the shears away, and drew a thin, sharp knife from his belt. The mage carefully evened the edges of her hair.
"Do you do this much?" Rosethorn asked, working to sound un-sarcastic.
"Occasionally. Do you?"
Rosethorn twisted around to see if he was smiling, but his face was blank. "Yes. I so enjoy cutting my hair before a window."
He brushed the red trimmings from her shoulders. "Finished. You didn't do to badly on your own."
"Mm. What are you here for, really? You see magic every day. It shouldn't be a surprise, especially around here."
"Honored Moonstream was wondering if you'd be willing to accommodate a guest here."
Rosethorn frowned. "I don't see why not. This cottage is huge. I don't understand why Froststar picked this one and not the other."
Niko raised his eyebrows cryptically. "She has her reasons." He stared around the kitchen. "Have you chosen a room yet? You might want to do so, before your resident arrives."
Rosethorn sighed. "That one." She pointed to a smooth-planed door.
"Alright." Niko gathered Rosethorn's possessions in his arms and walked to the door. Rosethorn scrambled after him, barely managing to catch the door for him. He set his load on the cot against the wall while Rosethorn looked around.
It was a small room, painted cream with dark wood paneling around the bottom of the walls. Shelves and a cabinet covered one wall and the bed and a small desk took up the second. There was a window with a flower-box and battered stool.
The two mages worked quietly to organize Rosethorn's clothes and set them in the cabinet. She set the Anderran box on a shelf nearly full of dusty herbalism books.
Niko set a pair of unused sandals on the shelf, then turned to Rosethorn. "You're sure you'll be alright? This is, well it isn't your typical idea of what a dedicate does, I suppose."
Rosethorn sighed. "I was in complete control of my actions. This is the life I've chosen for myself." She drew a thread of magic out of her core and coiled it in her palm. It danced around her fingertips, casting a flicking greenish glow across her face. The trick had taken time to master, and the concentration needed helped her to mask her emotions. "I won't really have to see him again, at least not in anything but passing."
Niko shrugged expressionlessly. "He isn't a bad man. Just a bit impatient and quick-thinking." And if you haven't noticed, you're much the same. Quick temper, fast mind, and a touch too sensitive. He froze as a scrap of color drifted past his face in the air the Rosethorn had just blown out. He tuned the dedicate out and concentrated on the color, hoping it might form a vision.
The colors twisted, then jumped into a recognizable form. It was Rosethorn and a golden-skinned boy leaning over the Temple battlements. Magic gushed from them like a river. Rosethorn laying limp on the cot of the very room she was standing in. Then the same boy, in a garden that shone like a green beacon. Rosethorn again, in a small stone room, snarling at someone Niko couldn't see. Rosethorn rushing into the arms of a cat-like woman with glossy, black curls. Then the vision snapped into a thousand fragments of color and Niko stumbled backwards.
Rosethorn caught him and eased him upright again. "Are you alright?" She frowned.
Niko paused uncertain of what to say. Uncertain of how Rosethorn would react. "I saw a vision. . . in the wind."
She raised her eyebrows. "You can scry. Don't be afraid to say it. I tried a few times, and didn't really find it particularly useful."
Niko coughed. "Pardon?"
"Stupid little bits of futures and present, past and possible futures and futures that will never come. I can't see myself using it. I like everything here and now where I can see it before my nose without having it shatter into pieces." She glanced away and sniffed. "Blasted summer colds."
Niko carefully pretended not to notice her watering eyes. "If you'll sit with me, I'll tell you about the research team for Froststar."
Rosethorn nodded, clearly curious.
"She's had this problem for a while now. A year, maybe. Every time she uses her magic, it doesn't replenish like it should. In fact, it doesn't come back at all. We just keep lending her our magic. That's why she's stopped using the flashy magic she used to do at the solstices and equinoxes. She can't drain herself, or she'll die from lack of power."
Rosethorn frowned. "What have you done about it?"
"Herbal teas, just about ever cure for disease that we know of," Niko counted things off on his fingers. "We tried an infusion of aconite, then murtlap, dittany."
"Have you tried hellebore?"
It was Niko's turn to frown. "That's to prevent people from spelling you."
"It seems as though you've tried everything natural."
Niko ran his fingers along his mustache and stared into space for a long moment. "I suppose it's worth a try, but you'll have to get the rest of the team to agree."
Rosethorn snorted. "I couldn't do that even if I had the Green Man's blessing."
Niko sighed. "Don't give up on yourself. It's a decent idea. Our first meeting is tonight, after the midnight services. Come to Froststar's office after you're done."
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Last Night, Chapter Nine
A/N- Sorry it took so long to update. I was out of town and so I wrote down the chapters in a notebook. There should be a Battle chapter up soon too. :) What was really funny though, was I saw a sign when I was driving and it said "Silverwing Dr." What's sad is it actually took a minute to remember why the name was familiar.
Rosethorn strode out of the office, beyond emotions and tears. Her feet carried her along the familiar path to the Earth dormitories, as someone approached behind her.
"Master Goldeye."
"Niko."
"Master Goldeye."
"I thought to accompany you to your cottage. Help you carry your possesions."
"I don't have much, just a box and some clothes."
"Nonetheless." He paused, adding, "do you even know where your cottage is?"
"No."
"Then I'll show you. Regardless, of whether or not you can find it by yourself."
Rosethorn pursed her lips. Scryers couldn't read minds, could they? She turned off the main road and pushed through the double doors of her dormitory. Goldeye grunted softly as the door thumped into him.
She ducked into her room, shared with five other women, and threw open her wardrobe doors. Sandals; a spare green habit, now her only green habit; underclothes; a hat; and a thin scarf. She gathered it all under one arm, snatched up her box from Anderran, then turned on her heel. She was almost out the door when a strong hand grabbed her skirt and spun her around.
Silverwing, dirt smudged across her face glared at Rosethorn with all of her First Dedicate power. "Just where do you think you're going?"
"I'm leaving."
"Rosethorn, just because you made a mistake, doesn't mean you have to leave. I've-"
"I'm leaving Silverwing. Froststar's orders."
Silverwing's face hardened. "Just because you made a fool mistake, don't mean Froststar can kick you out!" She slipped into the cant of her childhood and began to march past Rosethorn, who dropped her clothes and held Silverwing back.
"Silverwing, I'm not-"
"I don't care about being nice. That bleating Temple slushbrain-"
Suddenly, Rosethorn was glad for the friend she had in Silverwing.
A large hand clapped Rosethorn's shoulder. "Dedicate Silverwing, Honored Froststar isn't making Rosethorn leave the temple. She's just moving to a cottage across the way."
Silverwing frowned, obviously annoyed. "As you say, Master Goldeye," she muttered, sliding effortlessly into formal Imperial. She saw Rosethorn's surprise. "Niklaren has visited here before, several times." She glanced at Rosethorn's small heap of possessions. "Wait a moment." She disappeared into the storeroom, and Rosethorn could hear her rummaging through boxes of whatever was stored. A few minutes later, Silverwing came back with a teal metal wagon loaded with two large boxes. "These are just a few things to get you started. This isn't goodbye. I'm still expecting to see you at midnight services on Sunsday." She hugged Rosethorn tightly, then shoved her out the door. "Don't do anything stupider than usual." With that, she slammed the door shut.
Rosethorn smiled crookedly. "She doesn't like us to know she's capable of emotions."
Goldeye led her down the path. "Have you known her for a while?"
"Ten or twelve years now. She taught me as a novice, and was promoted to First Dedicate shortly after I took my vows. She just doesn't like to advertise it, so she wears plain habits." Unlike some people.
They walked in silence along the road, passing few others. The midday sun beat down from above and Rosethorn could feel sweat dewing on her face. She snuck a glance at the mage, but he appeared as cool and composed as ever. Finally, the man held up a hand.
"We're here."
Here was a clean white cottage, surrounded by lawn and garden. The scent of fresh thatch wafted over the air. Someone had apparently maintained the cottage. Brightly colored shutters hid the windows, no doubt made of expensive glass. Rosethorn glanced at the white fence surrounding the cottage grounds and sighed in frustration. A brilliant orange mark gleamed through the newer white paint. Rosethorn traced the petals of the tigerlily.
Will I never be free of him? I thought getting a home of my own would keep him away, but now. . . another tie keeping us together. Maybe I can get more paint. . .
"Dedicate?"
"What?" Rosethorn shook herself back to the present.
"Do you need any further assistance or-"
"I can manage fine on my own, thank you." She stepped through the gate with her wagon and snapped it shut. "Good day."
Goldeye looked faintly surprised for a moment, then his face was as smooth as stone. "Good day. I hope to see you again soon." He turned neatly and walked back down the path.
Rosethorn watched him go, then stomped to Discipline's front door.
Rosethorn strode out of the office, beyond emotions and tears. Her feet carried her along the familiar path to the Earth dormitories, as someone approached behind her.
"Master Goldeye."
"Niko."
"Master Goldeye."
"I thought to accompany you to your cottage. Help you carry your possesions."
"I don't have much, just a box and some clothes."
"Nonetheless." He paused, adding, "do you even know where your cottage is?"
"No."
"Then I'll show you. Regardless, of whether or not you can find it by yourself."
Rosethorn pursed her lips. Scryers couldn't read minds, could they? She turned off the main road and pushed through the double doors of her dormitory. Goldeye grunted softly as the door thumped into him.
She ducked into her room, shared with five other women, and threw open her wardrobe doors. Sandals; a spare green habit, now her only green habit; underclothes; a hat; and a thin scarf. She gathered it all under one arm, snatched up her box from Anderran, then turned on her heel. She was almost out the door when a strong hand grabbed her skirt and spun her around.
Silverwing, dirt smudged across her face glared at Rosethorn with all of her First Dedicate power. "Just where do you think you're going?"
"I'm leaving."
"Rosethorn, just because you made a mistake, doesn't mean you have to leave. I've-"
"I'm leaving Silverwing. Froststar's orders."
Silverwing's face hardened. "Just because you made a fool mistake, don't mean Froststar can kick you out!" She slipped into the cant of her childhood and began to march past Rosethorn, who dropped her clothes and held Silverwing back.
"Silverwing, I'm not-"
"I don't care about being nice. That bleating Temple slushbrain-"
Suddenly, Rosethorn was glad for the friend she had in Silverwing.
A large hand clapped Rosethorn's shoulder. "Dedicate Silverwing, Honored Froststar isn't making Rosethorn leave the temple. She's just moving to a cottage across the way."
Silverwing frowned, obviously annoyed. "As you say, Master Goldeye," she muttered, sliding effortlessly into formal Imperial. She saw Rosethorn's surprise. "Niklaren has visited here before, several times." She glanced at Rosethorn's small heap of possessions. "Wait a moment." She disappeared into the storeroom, and Rosethorn could hear her rummaging through boxes of whatever was stored. A few minutes later, Silverwing came back with a teal metal wagon loaded with two large boxes. "These are just a few things to get you started. This isn't goodbye. I'm still expecting to see you at midnight services on Sunsday." She hugged Rosethorn tightly, then shoved her out the door. "Don't do anything stupider than usual." With that, she slammed the door shut.
Rosethorn smiled crookedly. "She doesn't like us to know she's capable of emotions."
Goldeye led her down the path. "Have you known her for a while?"
"Ten or twelve years now. She taught me as a novice, and was promoted to First Dedicate shortly after I took my vows. She just doesn't like to advertise it, so she wears plain habits." Unlike some people.
They walked in silence along the road, passing few others. The midday sun beat down from above and Rosethorn could feel sweat dewing on her face. She snuck a glance at the mage, but he appeared as cool and composed as ever. Finally, the man held up a hand.
"We're here."
Here was a clean white cottage, surrounded by lawn and garden. The scent of fresh thatch wafted over the air. Someone had apparently maintained the cottage. Brightly colored shutters hid the windows, no doubt made of expensive glass. Rosethorn glanced at the white fence surrounding the cottage grounds and sighed in frustration. A brilliant orange mark gleamed through the newer white paint. Rosethorn traced the petals of the tigerlily.
Will I never be free of him? I thought getting a home of my own would keep him away, but now. . . another tie keeping us together. Maybe I can get more paint. . .
"Dedicate?"
"What?" Rosethorn shook herself back to the present.
"Do you need any further assistance or-"
"I can manage fine on my own, thank you." She stepped through the gate with her wagon and snapped it shut. "Good day."
Goldeye looked faintly surprised for a moment, then his face was as smooth as stone. "Good day. I hope to see you again soon." He turned neatly and walked back down the path.
Rosethorn watched him go, then stomped to Discipline's front door.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Discipline
A/N- Thanks again to the Nerd for reviewing!
Much to her surprise, Rosethorn was awakened at dawn by bird calls. There weren't any dedicates clustered around her demanding to know what happened the night before.
She sat up and wiped as much of the mud off as she could, which wasn't much. She looked around, and not seeing anyone, stood and walked to the garden gate. Her necklace caught on a tree twig and she stared at the blue metal Mila flower.
It winked in the light, teasing her. Rosethorn felt hot fury rising her her throat again, and she ripped the necklace off and let it hang from the twig.
Let someone who wants it have it.
She stalked away with as much grace as she could muster and headed towards Froststar's office. Breaking the rules wouldn't keep her from owning up.
*****
The door was unlocked, but no one was in. Rosethorn slipped inside and sat in one of the chairs, picking the most uncomfortable one. There was no reason for her to fall asleep and be unprepared for someone walking in.
She didn't have to wait long. The door swung open again and Crane walked in. He didn't see Rosethorn in her corner, but strode to a chair near the front of the office and took a seat. He smoothed his robes, flattened the creases in his sleeves, looked up, and nearly fell off his chair when he saw Rosethorn.
"Where were you? I was worried sick- I thought... I thought a lot of things that might have happened!"
She glared at him. "I'm not stupid."
"I wasn't-"
"Yes, you were. And I'm not." She kicked her grimy feet up across the arm of another chair and closed her eyes, arms folded across her chest.
He snorted in exasperation and picked at his sleeve dismally. "It's this whole initiate thing, isn't it?"
Rosethorn gritted her teeth. Partially that, but not completely. There was something else, like your disability to care for the people in the Mire. She didn't say it out loud. It was better for him to suffer her silence.
It seemed like long hours before the door creaked open again. Rosethorn's eyes flew open and she watched Froststar, Moonstream, and middle-aged man with a dark ponytail and mustache walk in laughing. They saw her and Crane and sobered quickly.
Froststar sighed deeply. "Follow us, please." She opened the door to her inner office and everyone filed in. Froststar sat behind the desk, Moonstream and Crane in chairs before the desk, and Rosethorn leaned against the wall. The dark-haired man closed the door and propped himself against it, before glancing at Rosethorn.
Rosethorn glared at him, then fastened her gaze on Froststar. The woman really did look sick, pale and breathless. She hadn't lost a drop of composure, which Rosethorn admired.
The room was silent a moment more, then Froststar banged her fist on the desk. "I know what happened. Now I want to know why."
"It was my fault, truly-" Crane burst out.
Rosethorn snorted. "Stop taking credit for what you didn't do. It's my fault."
"I egged you on-"
"I started it-"
"No-"
"Yes-"
"Stop." The dark-haired man stepped between them and held up his hands. "The easiest way to settle this is just for you two to speak the truth. However, that method doesn't seem to be working. If Honored Froststar agrees-"
Froststar smiled mirthlessly. "Whatever you'd like to do, you may."
"-I'll perform a truth spell and we can get to the bottom of this."
"A truth spell?"
"Sir, can you do that on your own?"
"The kind using a crystal, or are you a mage?"
The man smiled a Rosethorn. "I apologize for not introducing myself. Niklaren Goldeye, truthsayer."
Crane nearly fell out of his seat.
Rosethorn coughed loudly into her elbow. "I'm at your mercy then, Master Goldeye. Please perform your spells so I can get started on my punishment."
Goldeye looked at her curiously. "Punishment, Dedicate?"
"You don't slap an Initiate and use magic on him without having to pay some price."
"Oh?"
"I was a bit tired to begin with, Dedicate Initiate Crane said something that irritated me, we disagreed, and I slapped him before using my magic against him."
"Did you injure him at all?"
"Only his pride, sir."
Goldeye smiled. "Thank you Dedicate." He turned to Froststar. "I believe you've heard the truth."
Crane frowned. "You didn't use magic."
Goldeye nodded. "I was taught to detect lies using non-magical methods and I believe I have heard the truth. That is, unless you have something to add, Dedicate Initiate?"
Rosethorn watched as Crane sought to find a small detail that would soften Rosethorn's actions. Finally, he shook his head. "No, thank you."
Froststar nodded. "Thank you, Dedicate Crane. Now, if you'd excuse us, you may return to your duties." After Crane had left the room and the door had clicked closed again, she turned to Rosethorn. "What possessed you to do something so idiotic?"
"All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." Crane began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.
Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."
Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."
"People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" she screamed loudly.
"It was my own fault. I over-reacted. He told us to clean up, and I told him no." Rosethorn looked at her grimy feet. She was tired and she knew she had been defeated. Froststar would probably send her packing back to Anderran in the morning.
"Anything else?"
"No, not really."
"Rosethorn." She blinked; Goldeye was suddenly beside her, finger lifting her chin up. "There's something else."
"I told him-" I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar. "I said I knew why he was working overtime."
Moonstream sucked in her breath, but Froststar showed no surprise. "It was only a matter of time, I suppose. How did you guess?"
Rosethorn looked away again. "It was just a lucky guess, really."
Froststar nodded sadly. "Lucky. Well, dear, you were right earlier in saying you can't just slap someone for free. To begin with, you're removed from the Dragon Pox research team."
Can't say I'm too upset about that.
"You're also removed from the Earth dormitories."
That caught Rosethorn's attention. "What-"
"You'll live in a cottage in the temple. Until someone like-minded comes along, you'll be its sole care-taker. If you ever gain a student, he or she will live in the cottage with you. Moonstream, what houses are open now?"
The woman flipped open a file on the desk. "There are two; thirty-one and fifty-six. Thirty one is on the north side of the temple, six bedrooms, one indoor workroom, alter, front and back gardens. Fifty-six is near the forges, two bedrooms, two workrooms and a loft."
Froststar stared into the distance for a moment, then- "Thirty one." She turned her attention to Rosethorn. "Now, Master Goldeye will accompany you to your dormitory to retrieve your belongings, then he'll show you to cottage thirty-one. I believe you know the one?" she added.
"Of course."
Rosethorn stood, bowed slightly to the two other dedicates and started to open the door.
"Ah, Rosethorn, one last thing. Since you're the sole caretaker of the cottage, you get to choose its name. Each time a cottage gets a new caretaker, the caretaker may rename it." Froststar paused. "The last caretaker called it....Courage."
Rosethorn twisted the door handle open, taking the moment to think. "Discipline."
Moonstream sighed sadly. "Dear, we aren't trying to discipline you-"
"I know."
A/N- What did you think? I have my own idea about what Rosie means when she says she knows she's not being disciplined, but I'm curious to know what you think. Please review!
Much to her surprise, Rosethorn was awakened at dawn by bird calls. There weren't any dedicates clustered around her demanding to know what happened the night before.
She sat up and wiped as much of the mud off as she could, which wasn't much. She looked around, and not seeing anyone, stood and walked to the garden gate. Her necklace caught on a tree twig and she stared at the blue metal Mila flower.
It winked in the light, teasing her. Rosethorn felt hot fury rising her her throat again, and she ripped the necklace off and let it hang from the twig.
Let someone who wants it have it.
She stalked away with as much grace as she could muster and headed towards Froststar's office. Breaking the rules wouldn't keep her from owning up.
*****
The door was unlocked, but no one was in. Rosethorn slipped inside and sat in one of the chairs, picking the most uncomfortable one. There was no reason for her to fall asleep and be unprepared for someone walking in.
She didn't have to wait long. The door swung open again and Crane walked in. He didn't see Rosethorn in her corner, but strode to a chair near the front of the office and took a seat. He smoothed his robes, flattened the creases in his sleeves, looked up, and nearly fell off his chair when he saw Rosethorn.
"Where were you? I was worried sick- I thought... I thought a lot of things that might have happened!"
She glared at him. "I'm not stupid."
"I wasn't-"
"Yes, you were. And I'm not." She kicked her grimy feet up across the arm of another chair and closed her eyes, arms folded across her chest.
He snorted in exasperation and picked at his sleeve dismally. "It's this whole initiate thing, isn't it?"
Rosethorn gritted her teeth. Partially that, but not completely. There was something else, like your disability to care for the people in the Mire. She didn't say it out loud. It was better for him to suffer her silence.
It seemed like long hours before the door creaked open again. Rosethorn's eyes flew open and she watched Froststar, Moonstream, and middle-aged man with a dark ponytail and mustache walk in laughing. They saw her and Crane and sobered quickly.
Froststar sighed deeply. "Follow us, please." She opened the door to her inner office and everyone filed in. Froststar sat behind the desk, Moonstream and Crane in chairs before the desk, and Rosethorn leaned against the wall. The dark-haired man closed the door and propped himself against it, before glancing at Rosethorn.
Rosethorn glared at him, then fastened her gaze on Froststar. The woman really did look sick, pale and breathless. She hadn't lost a drop of composure, which Rosethorn admired.
The room was silent a moment more, then Froststar banged her fist on the desk. "I know what happened. Now I want to know why."
"It was my fault, truly-" Crane burst out.
Rosethorn snorted. "Stop taking credit for what you didn't do. It's my fault."
"I egged you on-"
"I started it-"
"No-"
"Yes-"
"Stop." The dark-haired man stepped between them and held up his hands. "The easiest way to settle this is just for you two to speak the truth. However, that method doesn't seem to be working. If Honored Froststar agrees-"
Froststar smiled mirthlessly. "Whatever you'd like to do, you may."
"-I'll perform a truth spell and we can get to the bottom of this."
"A truth spell?"
"Sir, can you do that on your own?"
"The kind using a crystal, or are you a mage?"
The man smiled a Rosethorn. "I apologize for not introducing myself. Niklaren Goldeye, truthsayer."
Crane nearly fell out of his seat.
Rosethorn coughed loudly into her elbow. "I'm at your mercy then, Master Goldeye. Please perform your spells so I can get started on my punishment."
Goldeye looked at her curiously. "Punishment, Dedicate?"
"You don't slap an Initiate and use magic on him without having to pay some price."
"Oh?"
"I was a bit tired to begin with, Dedicate Initiate Crane said something that irritated me, we disagreed, and I slapped him before using my magic against him."
"Did you injure him at all?"
"Only his pride, sir."
Goldeye smiled. "Thank you Dedicate." He turned to Froststar. "I believe you've heard the truth."
Crane frowned. "You didn't use magic."
Goldeye nodded. "I was taught to detect lies using non-magical methods and I believe I have heard the truth. That is, unless you have something to add, Dedicate Initiate?"
Rosethorn watched as Crane sought to find a small detail that would soften Rosethorn's actions. Finally, he shook his head. "No, thank you."
Froststar nodded. "Thank you, Dedicate Crane. Now, if you'd excuse us, you may return to your duties." After Crane had left the room and the door had clicked closed again, she turned to Rosethorn. "What possessed you to do something so idiotic?"
"All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." Crane began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.
Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."
Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."
"People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" she screamed loudly.
"It was my own fault. I over-reacted. He told us to clean up, and I told him no." Rosethorn looked at her grimy feet. She was tired and she knew she had been defeated. Froststar would probably send her packing back to Anderran in the morning.
"Anything else?"
"No, not really."
"Rosethorn." She blinked; Goldeye was suddenly beside her, finger lifting her chin up. "There's something else."
"I told him-" I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar. "I said I knew why he was working overtime."
Moonstream sucked in her breath, but Froststar showed no surprise. "It was only a matter of time, I suppose. How did you guess?"
Rosethorn looked away again. "It was just a lucky guess, really."
Froststar nodded sadly. "Lucky. Well, dear, you were right earlier in saying you can't just slap someone for free. To begin with, you're removed from the Dragon Pox research team."
Can't say I'm too upset about that.
"You're also removed from the Earth dormitories."
That caught Rosethorn's attention. "What-"
"You'll live in a cottage in the temple. Until someone like-minded comes along, you'll be its sole care-taker. If you ever gain a student, he or she will live in the cottage with you. Moonstream, what houses are open now?"
The woman flipped open a file on the desk. "There are two; thirty-one and fifty-six. Thirty one is on the north side of the temple, six bedrooms, one indoor workroom, alter, front and back gardens. Fifty-six is near the forges, two bedrooms, two workrooms and a loft."
Froststar stared into the distance for a moment, then- "Thirty one." She turned her attention to Rosethorn. "Now, Master Goldeye will accompany you to your dormitory to retrieve your belongings, then he'll show you to cottage thirty-one. I believe you know the one?" she added.
"Of course."
Rosethorn stood, bowed slightly to the two other dedicates and started to open the door.
"Ah, Rosethorn, one last thing. Since you're the sole caretaker of the cottage, you get to choose its name. Each time a cottage gets a new caretaker, the caretaker may rename it." Froststar paused. "The last caretaker called it....Courage."
Rosethorn twisted the door handle open, taking the moment to think. "Discipline."
Moonstream sighed sadly. "Dear, we aren't trying to discipline you-"
"I know."
A/N- What did you think? I have my own idea about what Rosie means when she says she knows she's not being disciplined, but I'm curious to know what you think. Please review!
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Last Night Part: I don't Even Know
Broken
Eight Years Later
Rosethorn sat at the counter of an Air workroom, a tray of human essence before her, watching as the rain turned everything outside to mud. She sighed and looked back down at her tray. She was helping several other Air and Water dedicates create a cure for the dragon pox that ravaged the Mire each spring. It was incredibly boring. All they did was add a drip of this and a spoonful of that to the little wells of essence. There was no excitement.
She added marshmallow and valerian to the last row of wells, then corked her bottles and carried the tray to the cabinet where it was stored overnight. There wasn't really enough time to start another tray, but Rosethorn picked up a new set of wells anyways. People were dying and the least she could do was spend some time trying to help. She set the tray on her table and began unstoppering little vials of oils and herbs.
This should be exciting. I mean, no one's ever done this before and it's going to save hundreds of people. Rosethorn sighed. But this is going to drive me insane. Locked up in a little room. I'd be more useful with my plants, doing something...else. Like tea.
The door banged open and Crane strode in, hands hanging elegantly out of his sleeves, the black stripe along the bottom of his yellow habit perfectly clean. "All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." He began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.
Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."
Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."
She bolted up. "If we use every drop of magic we have, every day, we'll save more. There are people dying right now!"
Her words echoed through the silent room. The other dedicates stared at her in surprise. Disagreeing silently was one thing. Talking back to a dedicate initiate was another.
The remembrance of the black stripe sent hot anger through Rosethorn's veins. "People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" She screamed loudly.
"We do what we can." Crane's voice was ice cold.
"'What we can' seems to be different depending on who's being helped." She lowered her voice and made a guess. "I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar."
Crane went stiff. "Where did you hear that?"
Rosethorn glared at him and lied. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone knows. She's sick, and Mila strike me if any of you know what's wrong." It wasn't that obvious. Froststar didn't walk through the temple like she used to and she didn't do flashy magic, but she was old, and busy training a successor. Crane and most of the initiates were late to breakfast and left dinner early, but that could mean any number of things. But Rosethorn wasn't about to admit that.
Crane was pale, with fear or fury Rosethorn couldn't tell. "I'd appreciate if you would keep this to yourself, whether or not it's 'obvious,' as you put it," he hissed. "We are doing everything we can for everyone, the people in the... Mire... included."
Rosethorn glared at him. They weren't doing enough. And Crane didn't care.
She didn't even think as she reached out and slapped Crane across the face with a tremendous crack. An emotion (Fear? Surprise? Hurt?) flitted across his eyes before cold steel settled on his face. Rosethorn gritted her teeth and lunged at Crane, knocking him to the floor. She swung at him with everything Lars, Evan, and Dai taught her before he managed to shove her away. She fell backwards into her chair, which crashed down upon the two of them. Then the other dedicates were there, trying to pull her away. A tall man wrapped his arms about her, and she tried to kick his shins. He didn't let go, so she released a flood of magic into the floor.
Crane froze as long-thorned roses broke out of the floorboards and began to wrap around him. They snaked up his body and stopped at his shoulders. One threw a fine tendril around his neck. The vines blossomed suddenly, the buds along their lengths opening up into plate-sized, pale pink flowers.
The tall dedicate was distracted just long enough for Rosethorn to break away. She turned and ran, throwing open the door and bursting into the pounding rain. Someone called after her, but she ran faster, mud sucking her feet and splashing her habit. She had just passed the last Air workroom when she stepped into a deep puddle. She lost her balance and fell, face first into the mud. It soaked her habit and caked her bare skin.
Rosethorn swore and ripped her sandals from her feet. She could run better barefoot. The habit was dropped into the mud next to the sandals. Skirts were useless.
Voices began to clamor behind her, and she could her slapping feet. Suddenly, she had an idea. Rosethorn lay back in the mud and smeared grime across her gleaming white underrobe and ivory skin. When she was thoroughly brown, she rolled to her feet and dodged behind the nearest tree.
The tall dedicate who had held her was at the lead, and he paused to look at her habit and shoes. He rose and scanned the ground for footprints. Rosethorn swore silently, turned and scrambled over the fence behind her. She landed in someone's backyard when the dedicates realized where she had gone. She ran across the yard, climbed the next fence and began tearing across the temple. She followed the roads when she met them and ran through yards when the roads stopped. The dedicates' calls began to fade away, but Rosethorn kept running. It was one thing to yell at a dedicate initiate, it was another matter entirely to hit one and then use magic against him. She winced at the memory and tripped, falling face-down in someone's garden.
Breathe...breathe
Rosethorn gasped in a deep breath and tried to pull herself back up, but her legs refused to hold her. She sat down.
It's not too bad, just sitting in someone's garden. Whoever lives here isn't about to come out in this rain. I can just stay here until...she paused. Until I feel like leaving.
She dug a shallow hole in the bare ground and curled up into it, letting the rain wash cool mud back around her. She had no idea what time it was, but she ached with exhaustion and her eyes kept closing.
"Just for a moment..."
Eight Years Later
Rosethorn sat at the counter of an Air workroom, a tray of human essence before her, watching as the rain turned everything outside to mud. She sighed and looked back down at her tray. She was helping several other Air and Water dedicates create a cure for the dragon pox that ravaged the Mire each spring. It was incredibly boring. All they did was add a drip of this and a spoonful of that to the little wells of essence. There was no excitement.
She added marshmallow and valerian to the last row of wells, then corked her bottles and carried the tray to the cabinet where it was stored overnight. There wasn't really enough time to start another tray, but Rosethorn picked up a new set of wells anyways. People were dying and the least she could do was spend some time trying to help. She set the tray on her table and began unstoppering little vials of oils and herbs.
This should be exciting. I mean, no one's ever done this before and it's going to save hundreds of people. Rosethorn sighed. But this is going to drive me insane. Locked up in a little room. I'd be more useful with my plants, doing something...else. Like tea.
The door banged open and Crane strode in, hands hanging elegantly out of his sleeves, the black stripe along the bottom of his yellow habit perfectly clean. "All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." He began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.
Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."
Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."
She bolted up. "If we use every drop of magic we have, every day, we'll save more. There are people dying right now!"
Her words echoed through the silent room. The other dedicates stared at her in surprise. Disagreeing silently was one thing. Talking back to a dedicate initiate was another.
The remembrance of the black stripe sent hot anger through Rosethorn's veins. "People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" She screamed loudly.
"We do what we can." Crane's voice was ice cold.
"'What we can' seems to be different depending on who's being helped." She lowered her voice and made a guess. "I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar."
Crane went stiff. "Where did you hear that?"
Rosethorn glared at him and lied. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone knows. She's sick, and Mila strike me if any of you know what's wrong." It wasn't that obvious. Froststar didn't walk through the temple like she used to and she didn't do flashy magic, but she was old, and busy training a successor. Crane and most of the initiates were late to breakfast and left dinner early, but that could mean any number of things. But Rosethorn wasn't about to admit that.
Crane was pale, with fear or fury Rosethorn couldn't tell. "I'd appreciate if you would keep this to yourself, whether or not it's 'obvious,' as you put it," he hissed. "We are doing everything we can for everyone, the people in the... Mire... included."
Rosethorn glared at him. They weren't doing enough. And Crane didn't care.
She didn't even think as she reached out and slapped Crane across the face with a tremendous crack. An emotion (Fear? Surprise? Hurt?) flitted across his eyes before cold steel settled on his face. Rosethorn gritted her teeth and lunged at Crane, knocking him to the floor. She swung at him with everything Lars, Evan, and Dai taught her before he managed to shove her away. She fell backwards into her chair, which crashed down upon the two of them. Then the other dedicates were there, trying to pull her away. A tall man wrapped his arms about her, and she tried to kick his shins. He didn't let go, so she released a flood of magic into the floor.
Crane froze as long-thorned roses broke out of the floorboards and began to wrap around him. They snaked up his body and stopped at his shoulders. One threw a fine tendril around his neck. The vines blossomed suddenly, the buds along their lengths opening up into plate-sized, pale pink flowers.
The tall dedicate was distracted just long enough for Rosethorn to break away. She turned and ran, throwing open the door and bursting into the pounding rain. Someone called after her, but she ran faster, mud sucking her feet and splashing her habit. She had just passed the last Air workroom when she stepped into a deep puddle. She lost her balance and fell, face first into the mud. It soaked her habit and caked her bare skin.
Rosethorn swore and ripped her sandals from her feet. She could run better barefoot. The habit was dropped into the mud next to the sandals. Skirts were useless.
Voices began to clamor behind her, and she could her slapping feet. Suddenly, she had an idea. Rosethorn lay back in the mud and smeared grime across her gleaming white underrobe and ivory skin. When she was thoroughly brown, she rolled to her feet and dodged behind the nearest tree.
The tall dedicate who had held her was at the lead, and he paused to look at her habit and shoes. He rose and scanned the ground for footprints. Rosethorn swore silently, turned and scrambled over the fence behind her. She landed in someone's backyard when the dedicates realized where she had gone. She ran across the yard, climbed the next fence and began tearing across the temple. She followed the roads when she met them and ran through yards when the roads stopped. The dedicates' calls began to fade away, but Rosethorn kept running. It was one thing to yell at a dedicate initiate, it was another matter entirely to hit one and then use magic against him. She winced at the memory and tripped, falling face-down in someone's garden.
Breathe...breathe
Rosethorn gasped in a deep breath and tried to pull herself back up, but her legs refused to hold her. She sat down.
It's not too bad, just sitting in someone's garden. Whoever lives here isn't about to come out in this rain. I can just stay here until...she paused. Until I feel like leaving.
She dug a shallow hole in the bare ground and curled up into it, letting the rain wash cool mud back around her. She had no idea what time it was, but she ached with exhaustion and her eyes kept closing.
"Just for a moment..."
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Ok. Super hard.
Next Chapter of Last Night
Can't
Rosethorn set her elbows on the table and rested her head in her palms; she didn't care if it was impolite. The ceremonial dinner had lasted longer than the new dedicate had hoped, and she hadn't even talked to her family yet, not really. She closed her eyes. I can listen with my eyes shut, just fine. A moment later, it seemed, her elbow slipped and her cheekbone collided painfully with her plate. Rosethorn sighed and sat up again. No one had really appeared to notice, so she took her napkin and swiped chocolate pudding from her face. She glanced around again and saw Crane smiling at her, eyes dancing. She stuck her tongue out at him and jumped as the other dedicates began clapping the last speaker. Finally it's over!
She hopped to her feet, exhaustion forgotten, and looked around for her family. A crush of dedicates blocked her view, so, scorning any manners she had ever learned, Rosethorn climbed onto her chair, then the table to see clearly.
A young man near the back wall caught her eye, jumping and waving at her. Rosethorn grinned, jumped down, and began to shove her way over to him.
He caught her up in his arms and hugged her tightly, lifting her feet right off the ground. "It's good to see you, lass. I was thinking of you every day."
Another man, a few years younger, playfully punched Rosethorn's arm. She shoved him back and they laughed. "You still hit like a girl, sis; did you forget how I told you to fight?"
"No, Dai! It's just that most of the temple people don't like getting dirty, so I couldn't practice fighting. I introduced a few noses to the ground and ended up washing dishes for weeks. I hate washing dishes. " She grinned, showing no regret.
Rosethorn's brothers began to tell her about Anderran, what had been happening on the farm; with Sami and Lise; how a caravan of Traders had come through. The wheat crop had been good, the Larsons' had a spectacular cherry crop, Hannah and Ellis were growing new apple trees. Evan had just began to describe Lewis' daughter Enna ( She's got this long almost white hair, Rosie, and she had these great blue eyes- It sounds like you like her. No! No! Of course not!) when Rosethorn's father walked up behind her. He hugged her tightly, then held her away and examined her closely.
"I hear you've done well. First credentials at Lightsbridge, now this. Congratulations, Niva-girl."
She smiled weakly. "Yes, Papa. It's pretty good."
Her brothers crowded around, hugged her and said their goodbyes before melting into the masses of dedicates.
"So what are you going to do next? Do you have to stay here, or can you. . . travel abroad?"
Rosethorn sighed. "Papa, I'm not coming home. I took vows for the temple here, so this is where I stay. Besides, I think everyone's probably happier that I'm here."
"Niva, just because you-"
"Papa, before I came here, I had a lot of screw-ups. The barley crop-"
"You didn't even know you had magic."
"The roses? The cherry trees?"
"Those were-"
"'Accidents!' I know! The vines, the thorn bushes, the fennel- What about Hannah's apple trees? And Lise's potato patch? Evan's pumpkin plant! Were those all 'accidents'? Papa, I've been learning here. How to control my magic and things like that."
He sighed. This was a much repeated argument, and they both knew it. "Niva-girl. I'll agree you've been learning here, but it's time to come home. Thyme Circle in Anderran is perfectly fine for you. I still don't know why you insisted on coming here."
Rosethorn stuck her chin out mulishly. "Winding Circle better meets the needs of mages with unusual magic. My magic is unusual. Thyme Circle told you that."
"Unusual? You have green magic, girl. People on all sides of the Pebbled Sea have green magic."
"But their's isn't like mine! They can't feel like I do or make the plants move around for them. Papa, Froststar said I might be a great mage someday! I have to stay here if I want that to happen." As she closed her mouth, Rosethorn realized she had said the wrong thing.
"In that case you must come home. Don't you feel any loyalty to your country? Your family? Your gods cursed plants? You could make Anderran a great country, chief crop exporter for this whole region."
Rosethorn bit her lip. "Papa, I love Anderran. It's where I grew up and where almost everyone I know lives. It's just that... Anderran doesn't love me. Everyone may be polite on the outside, but they haven't forgotten what happened. They still remember all my 'accidents' and the pirate attack-"
Rosethorn's father seized her tightly by the shoulders. "The pirate attack wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. And what happened to that pirate was self-defense. No one can blame you."
Thorns ripping up through the ground, not stopping when they hit pirate flesh. It had taken her father and two other men to cut the thicket of thorns down after the attack. Even when she left for Lightsbridge, there had been rough stumps in the yard outside the door.
"But they remember, Papa. They don't think of it the same way you do. I think it's best if I stay here, for everyone's sake." Tears suddenly threatened to spill down her cheeks. "I love you Papa, and Dai, and Even, and Lars. I want you to be happy and live normal lives, not be worring about a mage-child running around and ruining crops and killing pirates." Rosethorn shut her mouth and looked away, hoping her father couldn't see the tears.
He sighed. "If that's the way it must be, Niva-girl, then so it is. I expect you to write home and visit once in a while." He turned to join his sons, then paused. "I also expect you to come to Lars' wedding in the Gorse Moon." He was silent a moment longer, then quickly said "I love you too."
Next Chapter
Eight Years Later
Rosethorn sat at the counter of an Air workroom, a tray of human essence before her, watching as the rain turned everything outside to mud. She sighed and looked back down at her tray. She was helping several other Air and Water dedicates create a cure for the dragon pox that ravaged the Mire each spring. It was incredibly boring. All they did was add a drip of this and a spoonful of that to the little wells of essence. There was no excitement.
She added marshmallow and valerian to the last row of wells, then corked her bottles and carried the tray to the cabinet where it was stored overnight. There wasn't really enough time to start another tray, but Rosethorn picked up a new set of wells anyways. People were dying and the least she could do was spend some time trying to help. She set the tray on her table and began unstoppering little vials of oils and herbs.
This should be exciting. I mean, no one's ever done this before and it's going to save hundreds of people. Rosethorn sighed. But this is going to drive me insane. Locked up in a little room. I'd be more useful with my plants, doing somthing...else. Like tea.
The door banged open and Crane strode in, hands hanging elegantly out of his sleeves, the black stripe along the bottom of his yellow habit perfectly clean. "All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." He began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.
Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."
Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."
She bolted up. "If we use every drop of magic we have, every day, we'll save more. There are people dying right now!"
Her words echoed through the silent room. The other dedicates stared at her in surprise. Talking back was one thing. Talking back to a dedicate initiate was another.
The remembrance of the black stripe sent hot anger through Rosethorn's veins. "People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" She screamed loudly.
"We do what we can." Crane's voice was ice cold.
"'What we can' seems to be different depending on who's being helped." She lowered her voice and made a guess. "I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar."
Crane went stiff. "Where did you hear that?"
Rosethorn glared at him and lied. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone knows. She's sick, and Mila strike me if any of you know what's wrong." It wasn't that obvious. Froststar didn't walk through the temple like she used to and she didn't do flashy magic, but she was old, and busy training a successor. Crane and most of the initiates were late to breakfast and left dinner early, but that could mean any number of things. But Rosethorn wasn't about to admit that.
Crane was pale, with fear or fury Rosethorn couldn't tell. "I'd appreciate if you would keep this to yourself, whether or not it's 'obvious,' as you put it," he hissed. "We are doing everything we can for everyone, the people in the... Mire... included."
Rosethorn glared at him. They weren't doing enough. And Crane didn't care.
She didn't even think as she reached out and slapped Crane across the face with a tremendous crack. An emotion (Fear? Surprise? Hurt?) flitted across his eyes before cold steel settled on his face. Rosethorn gritted her teeth and lunged at Crane, knocking him to the floor. She swung at him with everything Lars, Evan, and Dai taught her before he managed to shove her away. She fell backwards into her chair, which crashed down upon the two of them. Then the other dedicates were there, trying to pull her away. A tall man wrapped his arms about her, and she tried to kick his shins. He didn't let go, so she released a flood of magic into the floor.
Crane froze as long-thorned roses broke out of the floorboards and began to wrap around him. They snaked up his body and stopped at his shoulders. One threw a fine tendril around his neck. The vines blossomed suddenly, the buds along their lengths opening up into plate-sized, pale pink flowers.
The tall dedicate was distracted just long enough for Rosethorn to break away. She turned and ran, thowing open the door and bursting into the pounding rain. Someone called after her, but she ran faster, mud sucking her feet and spashing her habit. She had just passed the last Air workroom when she stepped into a deep puddle. She lost her balance and fell, face first into the mud. It soaked her habit and caked her bare skin.
Rosethorn swore and ripped her sandals from her feet. She could run better barefoot. The habit was ground into the mud next to the sandals. Skirts were useless.
Voices began to clamor behind her, and she could her slapping feet. Suddenly, she had an idea. Rosethorn lay back in the mud and smeared across her gleaming white underrobe and ivory skin. When she was thoroughly brown, she leapt up and dodged behind the nearest tree.
The tall dedicate who had held her was at the lead, and he paused to look at her habit and shoes. He rose and scanned the ground for footprints. Rosethorn swore silently, turned and scrambled over the fence behind her. She landed in someone's backyard when the dedicates realized where she had gone. She ran across the yard, climbed the next fence and began tearing across the temple. She followed the roads when she met them and ran through yards when the roads stopped. The dedicates' calls began to fade away, but Rosethorn kept running. It was one thing to yell at a dedicate initiate, it was another matter entirely to hit one and then use magic against him. She winced at the memory and tripped, falling face-down in someone's garden.
Breath...tbc
Can't
Rosethorn set her elbows on the table and rested her head in her palms; she didn't care if it was impolite. The ceremonial dinner had lasted longer than the new dedicate had hoped, and she hadn't even talked to her family yet, not really. She closed her eyes. I can listen with my eyes shut, just fine. A moment later, it seemed, her elbow slipped and her cheekbone collided painfully with her plate. Rosethorn sighed and sat up again. No one had really appeared to notice, so she took her napkin and swiped chocolate pudding from her face. She glanced around again and saw Crane smiling at her, eyes dancing. She stuck her tongue out at him and jumped as the other dedicates began clapping the last speaker. Finally it's over!
She hopped to her feet, exhaustion forgotten, and looked around for her family. A crush of dedicates blocked her view, so, scorning any manners she had ever learned, Rosethorn climbed onto her chair, then the table to see clearly.
A young man near the back wall caught her eye, jumping and waving at her. Rosethorn grinned, jumped down, and began to shove her way over to him.
He caught her up in his arms and hugged her tightly, lifting her feet right off the ground. "It's good to see you, lass. I was thinking of you every day."
Another man, a few years younger, playfully punched Rosethorn's arm. She shoved him back and they laughed. "You still hit like a girl, sis; did you forget how I told you to fight?"
"No, Dai! It's just that most of the temple people don't like getting dirty, so I couldn't practice fighting. I introduced a few noses to the ground and ended up washing dishes for weeks. I hate washing dishes. " She grinned, showing no regret.
Rosethorn's brothers began to tell her about Anderran, what had been happening on the farm; with Sami and Lise; how a caravan of Traders had come through. The wheat crop had been good, the Larsons' had a spectacular cherry crop, Hannah and Ellis were growing new apple trees. Evan had just began to describe Lewis' daughter Enna ( She's got this long almost white hair, Rosie, and she had these great blue eyes- It sounds like you like her. No! No! Of course not!) when Rosethorn's father walked up behind her. He hugged her tightly, then held her away and examined her closely.
"I hear you've done well. First credentials at Lightsbridge, now this. Congratulations, Niva-girl."
She smiled weakly. "Yes, Papa. It's pretty good."
Her brothers crowded around, hugged her and said their goodbyes before melting into the masses of dedicates.
"So what are you going to do next? Do you have to stay here, or can you. . . travel abroad?"
Rosethorn sighed. "Papa, I'm not coming home. I took vows for the temple here, so this is where I stay. Besides, I think everyone's probably happier that I'm here."
"Niva, just because you-"
"Papa, before I came here, I had a lot of screw-ups. The barley crop-"
"You didn't even know you had magic."
"The roses? The cherry trees?"
"Those were-"
"'Accidents!' I know! The vines, the thorn bushes, the fennel- What about Hannah's apple trees? And Lise's potato patch? Evan's pumpkin plant! Were those all 'accidents'? Papa, I've been learning here. How to control my magic and things like that."
He sighed. This was a much repeated argument, and they both knew it. "Niva-girl. I'll agree you've been learning here, but it's time to come home. Thyme Circle in Anderran is perfectly fine for you. I still don't know why you insisted on coming here."
Rosethorn stuck her chin out mulishly. "Winding Circle better meets the needs of mages with unusual magic. My magic is unusual. Thyme Circle told you that."
"Unusual? You have green magic, girl. People on all sides of the Pebbled Sea have green magic."
"But their's isn't like mine! They can't feel like I do or make the plants move around for them. Papa, Froststar said I might be a great mage someday! I have to stay here if I want that to happen." As she closed her mouth, Rosethorn realized she had said the wrong thing.
"In that case you must come home. Don't you feel any loyalty to your country? Your family? Your gods cursed plants? You could make Anderran a great country, chief crop exporter for this whole region."
Rosethorn bit her lip. "Papa, I love Anderran. It's where I grew up and where almost everyone I know lives. It's just that... Anderran doesn't love me. Everyone may be polite on the outside, but they haven't forgotten what happened. They still remember all my 'accidents' and the pirate attack-"
Rosethorn's father seized her tightly by the shoulders. "The pirate attack wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. And what happened to that pirate was self-defense. No one can blame you."
Thorns ripping up through the ground, not stopping when they hit pirate flesh. It had taken her father and two other men to cut the thicket of thorns down after the attack. Even when she left for Lightsbridge, there had been rough stumps in the yard outside the door.
"But they remember, Papa. They don't think of it the same way you do. I think it's best if I stay here, for everyone's sake." Tears suddenly threatened to spill down her cheeks. "I love you Papa, and Dai, and Even, and Lars. I want you to be happy and live normal lives, not be worring about a mage-child running around and ruining crops and killing pirates." Rosethorn shut her mouth and looked away, hoping her father couldn't see the tears.
He sighed. "If that's the way it must be, Niva-girl, then so it is. I expect you to write home and visit once in a while." He turned to join his sons, then paused. "I also expect you to come to Lars' wedding in the Gorse Moon." He was silent a moment longer, then quickly said "I love you too."
Next Chapter
Eight Years Later
Rosethorn sat at the counter of an Air workroom, a tray of human essence before her, watching as the rain turned everything outside to mud. She sighed and looked back down at her tray. She was helping several other Air and Water dedicates create a cure for the dragon pox that ravaged the Mire each spring. It was incredibly boring. All they did was add a drip of this and a spoonful of that to the little wells of essence. There was no excitement.
She added marshmallow and valerian to the last row of wells, then corked her bottles and carried the tray to the cabinet where it was stored overnight. There wasn't really enough time to start another tray, but Rosethorn picked up a new set of wells anyways. People were dying and the least she could do was spend some time trying to help. She set the tray on her table and began unstoppering little vials of oils and herbs.
This should be exciting. I mean, no one's ever done this before and it's going to save hundreds of people. Rosethorn sighed. But this is going to drive me insane. Locked up in a little room. I'd be more useful with my plants, doing somthing...else. Like tea.
The door banged open and Crane strode in, hands hanging elegantly out of his sleeves, the black stripe along the bottom of his yellow habit perfectly clean. "All right, time to clean up. There's nothing more to be done tonight." He began to circulate through the tables, nodding approval or sighing deeply.
Rosethorn sat stiffly, hands frozen on her bottles. "Whatever do you mean, 'nothing more to be done'? There's always something we can do."
Crane came to stand by her shoulder. "We can't save everyone, my dear. We'll save more if we're rested and ready to use magic."
She bolted up. "If we use every drop of magic we have, every day, we'll save more. There are people dying right now!"
Her words echoed through the silent room. The other dedicates stared at her in surprise. Talking back was one thing. Talking back to a dedicate initiate was another.
The remembrance of the black stripe sent hot anger through Rosethorn's veins. "People are dying. Maybe if we worked through the night we could have save them. But we won't. Because we never do!" She screamed loudly.
"We do what we can." Crane's voice was ice cold.
"'What we can' seems to be different depending on who's being helped." She lowered her voice and made a guess. "I'm not stupid. I know you and the other initiates work overtime to try and figure out what's wrong with Froststar."
Crane went stiff. "Where did you hear that?"
Rosethorn glared at him and lied. "Isn't it obvious? Everyone knows. She's sick, and Mila strike me if any of you know what's wrong." It wasn't that obvious. Froststar didn't walk through the temple like she used to and she didn't do flashy magic, but she was old, and busy training a successor. Crane and most of the initiates were late to breakfast and left dinner early, but that could mean any number of things. But Rosethorn wasn't about to admit that.
Crane was pale, with fear or fury Rosethorn couldn't tell. "I'd appreciate if you would keep this to yourself, whether or not it's 'obvious,' as you put it," he hissed. "We are doing everything we can for everyone, the people in the... Mire... included."
Rosethorn glared at him. They weren't doing enough. And Crane didn't care.
She didn't even think as she reached out and slapped Crane across the face with a tremendous crack. An emotion (Fear? Surprise? Hurt?) flitted across his eyes before cold steel settled on his face. Rosethorn gritted her teeth and lunged at Crane, knocking him to the floor. She swung at him with everything Lars, Evan, and Dai taught her before he managed to shove her away. She fell backwards into her chair, which crashed down upon the two of them. Then the other dedicates were there, trying to pull her away. A tall man wrapped his arms about her, and she tried to kick his shins. He didn't let go, so she released a flood of magic into the floor.
Crane froze as long-thorned roses broke out of the floorboards and began to wrap around him. They snaked up his body and stopped at his shoulders. One threw a fine tendril around his neck. The vines blossomed suddenly, the buds along their lengths opening up into plate-sized, pale pink flowers.
The tall dedicate was distracted just long enough for Rosethorn to break away. She turned and ran, thowing open the door and bursting into the pounding rain. Someone called after her, but she ran faster, mud sucking her feet and spashing her habit. She had just passed the last Air workroom when she stepped into a deep puddle. She lost her balance and fell, face first into the mud. It soaked her habit and caked her bare skin.
Rosethorn swore and ripped her sandals from her feet. She could run better barefoot. The habit was ground into the mud next to the sandals. Skirts were useless.
Voices began to clamor behind her, and she could her slapping feet. Suddenly, she had an idea. Rosethorn lay back in the mud and smeared across her gleaming white underrobe and ivory skin. When she was thoroughly brown, she leapt up and dodged behind the nearest tree.
The tall dedicate who had held her was at the lead, and he paused to look at her habit and shoes. He rose and scanned the ground for footprints. Rosethorn swore silently, turned and scrambled over the fence behind her. She landed in someone's backyard when the dedicates realized where she had gone. She ran across the yard, climbed the next fence and began tearing across the temple. She followed the roads when she met them and ran through yards when the roads stopped. The dedicates' calls began to fade away, but Rosethorn kept running. It was one thing to yell at a dedicate initiate, it was another matter entirely to hit one and then use magic against him. She winced at the memory and tripped, falling face-down in someone's garden.
Breath...tbc
Saturday, April 23, 2011
The Last Night Part 5: Rosethorn
A/N- I'm going to try and put a post up on my blog about Niva's background, but I'll tell you here what's relevant. I think she grew up in a very manly family; her mother died (Note that I'm making all this up, it's all non-canon as far as I know.) when she was pretty young and she lived with her father and three older brothers. She lost most of her contact to her village when she traveled to Winding Circle and Lightsbridge. I see her father as a hard man, kind of sad because he loved his wife so much. I think he tried to raise Niva as best he could, but he didn't really know how to bring up a girl-mage. So he sent her to Winding Circle, maybe when she was a bit too young, with the best of intentions. About working on the farm/profits versus love: Niva worked on the farm since before her magic came out. She continued to do so, partly because that's what she knew and partly because she wanted to help. Her father encouraged her because he could she she loved it and it was a way for her to earn bread when she grew up and lived on her own. He also liked the profit, but if she hadn't wanted to farm, he wouldn't have pressured her into it. He doesn't think he did, but maybe she thinks he did. I think they were a misunderstood family, and not everyone interpreted actions and words the same way. And by the way "monochromatic striations" sounds a bit ridiculous, but. . . I couldn't think of anything else. >.< Oops, I almost forgot, Niva's friend from back in Anderran is "Lise."
Niva wiped her sticky fingers off on her leg and smiled. Her dress was now patterned with dozens of Earth Temple circles in different colors of berry and plant. It was odd enough to make her stand out from the other novices, and it wasn't skin and mud.
She pressed her hands to the cotton fabric and let her magic seep through it. Can you hold the dye, please? She felt a strange tickle on her palms as the cotton wiggled. I guess it's permanent now.
Niva stood and pulled the dress over her shoulders. She grabbed the bag of tea and began to wrestle her way free of the little grove she had made.
The sun beat down on the empty field. Niva shielded her eyes and glanced at the sky. It was mid-afternoon. How could I have been gone so long? I be everyone else is back, I bet they're waiting for me! Ooh, I'll look so stupid; they're going to ask themselves why they let me finish my novitiate!
Then the rational part of Niva's mind took over. She took a deep breath and set of in the direction of Winding Circle. The field wasn't very far from the temple, but the distance seemed like miles. Pretty soon, Niva was breaking into a jog, a run, an all-out sprint for the temple.
The South Gate was wide open, and the road was full of people arriving to the temple. There were a few gleaming carriages and rough wagons, but most of the people were riding dusty horses or walking á pied. A Fire Dedicate with long red hair and sooty hands stood at the entrance and waved people down the appropriate road.
Niva raced between the people, turning sideways and jumping over small dogs and bundles. She had nearly reached the Fire Dedicate at the gate when-
"Niva!"
The girl skidded to a stop and spun on her toe. She blinked against the sun and dusk that now masked the road.
"Niva-girl!"
She squinted and saw a tall man on a horse waving at her. He had short-cropped blond hair and a crooked nose.
"Lars!"
Suddenly, Niva jumped sideways as an orange carriage rolled past. The Fire Dedicate looked over.
"You'll have plenty of time to catch up later, dear. Right now you ought to move on before one of this lot runs you over with their shiny toys."
Niva smiled crookedly. "Wouldn't want to mess their paint job." She turned and began running along the spiraling road to the Hub. It was only a few minutes before she was slipping back through the door she had used at dawn. She let her eyes adjust to the dark and looked around for the other Earth novices.
A dark-skinned Earth dedicate touched her shoulder. "Earth is right over there," he said in a rumbling whisper. He paused then added, "You're doing fine. Don't worry. Almost all I remember about my dedication is being terrified out of my wits. Stay calm and it'll be fine."
Niva nodded and moved away, hurrying to sit in the Earth quadrant once again. 'Stay calm and it'll be fine.' What was that supposed to mean?! She knelt on the ground and watched the other novices trickle in. At least I wasn't last.
Then a girl in a beautiful white-gray dress walked in. The dress swirled gently with monochromatic striations and bits of it sparkled gently. It was hardened air and fog. The girl waltzed around the room to the Water section. Niva laid her face on ground and sighed. She could feel the rough cotton of her dress all too well.
A moment later, she heard someone gasp. She looked up and felt her mouth drop open in shock. A man in green breeches and a bark vest had strode into the room. His short black hair was matted with sweat and he carried an eggshell that was filled with a liquid that gleamed in Niva's magical vision.
"Green Man!" she whispered. There were other murmurs of amazement rippling across the room. She watched as the man walked tiredly around the room. He paused in the Earth quadrant for a moment near Niva. She glanced up at his face and then openly stared.
It was Isas. He had managed to weave grass into pants and fashion a bark vest. Up close, he appeared less magnificent, and more like a tired boy wearing a costume.
Niva felt a stab of jealousy. Why didn't I think of plant-clothes? And a magical contribution to the Circle. Gods, that was stupid. She huffed in aggrivation.
Isas glanced down, smiled slightly and then stepped into the Air section and knelt. Niva stared disbelievingly. Air? What's he doing? I thought-
She didn't get an answer, as the Heartfire roared, flames licking the ceiling. Smoke stung her eyes and her eyes watered as Froststar once again stepped forward.
"You have made your choice!" the dedicate called loudly. "Now you must act upon it. Your friends and family wait at the Earth Temple's main garden. Follow me, please."
The next while was blurred in Niva's memory. She vaguely remembered following the others down the Temple path, sunshine and dust floating through the air. Then peoples' voices, smudged together and undecipherable. Stairs and a wooden stage. Then they were all sitting on benches and Froststar began to speak. She said something about hard work, life, magic, strength, their dedication to the gods. She began to call names, and one by one, the novices stood, took their turn to speak to Froststar, and left the stage to gather with the other dedicates of their new chosen life.
"Angharad Vallette." Some words about healers and then "I choose to be Peachleaf." She daintily set a glass-like globe of magic and water down on the table in front of the stage.
"Kato Stevens." Flames and fire. "I am Blaze."
Several others, a girl with spiky black hair, a copper-skinned boy with a curly mane of hair. Other girls, an older man who looked nearly as noble as Isas. A younger boy, like Niva, with dark skin and short hair. He looked terrified and barely managed to squeak out "Frostpine!" before racing off the stage.
More. Blonds, red-heads, people who looked as though they came from the other side of the Endless Sea, a Trader, before "Isas fer Yorvan."
Isas stood, ever elegant in his long-limbed way. He walked to Froststar's side, where she asked him something Niva didn't hear. Then he looked over her shoulder and opened his mouth to speak. "Isas fer Yorvan. . . now. . . I am Crane."
Niva blinked. A heron or a crane. One of those long-legged things that dances around everywhere. Everyone thinks they're so graceful, but I saw a heron once, and it just looked awkward, rather unbalanced. But then it started moving and it flew and I understood. It was graceful when it did what it lived for. "Oh, Isas," she whispered. Then Isas- no, Crane- was leaving, setting his magical bowl on the table, and joining the Air dedicates.
Niva glanced around and realized she was one of the last. There was one other, a fair-haired boy who looked to be nearly twenty, with broad shoulders and a smith's arms.
"Percy Organa." He stepped away and quickly said "Armstrong," before setting a huge hammer on the edge of the table and walking into the crowd of red robes.
"Niva Andersson." She could feel the heat of everyone's gaze upon her. She stood, as if in a dream and moved before Froststar, carrying her overlarge teabag. There was a silence, then Froststar spoke.
"Niva Andersson, you have chosen to dedicate the rest of your life to Mila of the Grain and the Green Man. Do you wish to continue?"
"Yes." The word drifted from Niva's mouth, almost too quiet to hear.
"Do you agree to live in poverty and serve the poor to the best of your abilities?"
"Yes."
"And do you agree to teach others to tame magic, whether or not they are discovered by you?"
Who said anything about teaching? I can't even teach my own brother to grow a squash! "Yes, I suppose so."
"Now, you must doff your old name and choose who you are to become."
"I. . ."
A memory washed across her.
"You're like a thorn-"
"A thorn? Like a thorn in your foot?"
"No! A thorn like the kind on a rose or a raspberry."
And then another, from a time long ago, back in Anderran, near Midsummer.
"You're like a rose, Niva. Just perfect and beautiful."
Niva carefully smeared ointment across the scars on Lise's face and worked for an answer.
"Beauty fades, Lise, dearest. The rose eventually wilts."
Lise looked up and smiled through her tears. "Eventually."
"Besides if- when- you marry someone, they want you, your personality and ideas and feelings. Those stay forever, not like beauty. You watch, in sixty years, we'll be sitting here and you'll have your childrens' babies all around you and you'll have to share them with me, since I'll have jabbed all my suitors away with my thorns." Niva grinned.
Lise smiled back. "What about Sami? He was looking at you at the festival. Don't deny it!"
"Novice Niva?"
"I choose. . . to be Rosethorn."
Niva wiped her sticky fingers off on her leg and smiled. Her dress was now patterned with dozens of Earth Temple circles in different colors of berry and plant. It was odd enough to make her stand out from the other novices, and it wasn't skin and mud.
She pressed her hands to the cotton fabric and let her magic seep through it. Can you hold the dye, please? She felt a strange tickle on her palms as the cotton wiggled. I guess it's permanent now.
Niva stood and pulled the dress over her shoulders. She grabbed the bag of tea and began to wrestle her way free of the little grove she had made.
The sun beat down on the empty field. Niva shielded her eyes and glanced at the sky. It was mid-afternoon. How could I have been gone so long? I be everyone else is back, I bet they're waiting for me! Ooh, I'll look so stupid; they're going to ask themselves why they let me finish my novitiate!
Then the rational part of Niva's mind took over. She took a deep breath and set of in the direction of Winding Circle. The field wasn't very far from the temple, but the distance seemed like miles. Pretty soon, Niva was breaking into a jog, a run, an all-out sprint for the temple.
The South Gate was wide open, and the road was full of people arriving to the temple. There were a few gleaming carriages and rough wagons, but most of the people were riding dusty horses or walking á pied. A Fire Dedicate with long red hair and sooty hands stood at the entrance and waved people down the appropriate road.
Niva raced between the people, turning sideways and jumping over small dogs and bundles. She had nearly reached the Fire Dedicate at the gate when-
"Niva!"
The girl skidded to a stop and spun on her toe. She blinked against the sun and dusk that now masked the road.
"Niva-girl!"
She squinted and saw a tall man on a horse waving at her. He had short-cropped blond hair and a crooked nose.
"Lars!"
Suddenly, Niva jumped sideways as an orange carriage rolled past. The Fire Dedicate looked over.
"You'll have plenty of time to catch up later, dear. Right now you ought to move on before one of this lot runs you over with their shiny toys."
Niva smiled crookedly. "Wouldn't want to mess their paint job." She turned and began running along the spiraling road to the Hub. It was only a few minutes before she was slipping back through the door she had used at dawn. She let her eyes adjust to the dark and looked around for the other Earth novices.
A dark-skinned Earth dedicate touched her shoulder. "Earth is right over there," he said in a rumbling whisper. He paused then added, "You're doing fine. Don't worry. Almost all I remember about my dedication is being terrified out of my wits. Stay calm and it'll be fine."
Niva nodded and moved away, hurrying to sit in the Earth quadrant once again. 'Stay calm and it'll be fine.' What was that supposed to mean?! She knelt on the ground and watched the other novices trickle in. At least I wasn't last.
Then a girl in a beautiful white-gray dress walked in. The dress swirled gently with monochromatic striations and bits of it sparkled gently. It was hardened air and fog. The girl waltzed around the room to the Water section. Niva laid her face on ground and sighed. She could feel the rough cotton of her dress all too well.
A moment later, she heard someone gasp. She looked up and felt her mouth drop open in shock. A man in green breeches and a bark vest had strode into the room. His short black hair was matted with sweat and he carried an eggshell that was filled with a liquid that gleamed in Niva's magical vision.
"Green Man!" she whispered. There were other murmurs of amazement rippling across the room. She watched as the man walked tiredly around the room. He paused in the Earth quadrant for a moment near Niva. She glanced up at his face and then openly stared.
It was Isas. He had managed to weave grass into pants and fashion a bark vest. Up close, he appeared less magnificent, and more like a tired boy wearing a costume.
Niva felt a stab of jealousy. Why didn't I think of plant-clothes? And a magical contribution to the Circle. Gods, that was stupid. She huffed in aggrivation.
Isas glanced down, smiled slightly and then stepped into the Air section and knelt. Niva stared disbelievingly. Air? What's he doing? I thought-
She didn't get an answer, as the Heartfire roared, flames licking the ceiling. Smoke stung her eyes and her eyes watered as Froststar once again stepped forward.
"You have made your choice!" the dedicate called loudly. "Now you must act upon it. Your friends and family wait at the Earth Temple's main garden. Follow me, please."
The next while was blurred in Niva's memory. She vaguely remembered following the others down the Temple path, sunshine and dust floating through the air. Then peoples' voices, smudged together and undecipherable. Stairs and a wooden stage. Then they were all sitting on benches and Froststar began to speak. She said something about hard work, life, magic, strength, their dedication to the gods. She began to call names, and one by one, the novices stood, took their turn to speak to Froststar, and left the stage to gather with the other dedicates of their new chosen life.
"Angharad Vallette." Some words about healers and then "I choose to be Peachleaf." She daintily set a glass-like globe of magic and water down on the table in front of the stage.
"Kato Stevens." Flames and fire. "I am Blaze."
Several others, a girl with spiky black hair, a copper-skinned boy with a curly mane of hair. Other girls, an older man who looked nearly as noble as Isas. A younger boy, like Niva, with dark skin and short hair. He looked terrified and barely managed to squeak out "Frostpine!" before racing off the stage.
More. Blonds, red-heads, people who looked as though they came from the other side of the Endless Sea, a Trader, before "Isas fer Yorvan."
Isas stood, ever elegant in his long-limbed way. He walked to Froststar's side, where she asked him something Niva didn't hear. Then he looked over her shoulder and opened his mouth to speak. "Isas fer Yorvan. . . now. . . I am Crane."
Niva blinked. A heron or a crane. One of those long-legged things that dances around everywhere. Everyone thinks they're so graceful, but I saw a heron once, and it just looked awkward, rather unbalanced. But then it started moving and it flew and I understood. It was graceful when it did what it lived for. "Oh, Isas," she whispered. Then Isas- no, Crane- was leaving, setting his magical bowl on the table, and joining the Air dedicates.
Niva glanced around and realized she was one of the last. There was one other, a fair-haired boy who looked to be nearly twenty, with broad shoulders and a smith's arms.
"Percy Organa." He stepped away and quickly said "Armstrong," before setting a huge hammer on the edge of the table and walking into the crowd of red robes.
"Niva Andersson." She could feel the heat of everyone's gaze upon her. She stood, as if in a dream and moved before Froststar, carrying her overlarge teabag. There was a silence, then Froststar spoke.
"Niva Andersson, you have chosen to dedicate the rest of your life to Mila of the Grain and the Green Man. Do you wish to continue?"
"Yes." The word drifted from Niva's mouth, almost too quiet to hear.
"Do you agree to live in poverty and serve the poor to the best of your abilities?"
"Yes."
"And do you agree to teach others to tame magic, whether or not they are discovered by you?"
Who said anything about teaching? I can't even teach my own brother to grow a squash! "Yes, I suppose so."
"Now, you must doff your old name and choose who you are to become."
"I. . ."
A memory washed across her.
"You're like a thorn-"
"A thorn? Like a thorn in your foot?"
"No! A thorn like the kind on a rose or a raspberry."
And then another, from a time long ago, back in Anderran, near Midsummer.
"You're like a rose, Niva. Just perfect and beautiful."
Niva carefully smeared ointment across the scars on Lise's face and worked for an answer.
"Beauty fades, Lise, dearest. The rose eventually wilts."
Lise looked up and smiled through her tears. "Eventually."
"Besides if- when- you marry someone, they want you, your personality and ideas and feelings. Those stay forever, not like beauty. You watch, in sixty years, we'll be sitting here and you'll have your childrens' babies all around you and you'll have to share them with me, since I'll have jabbed all my suitors away with my thorns." Niva grinned.
Lise smiled back. "What about Sami? He was looking at you at the festival. Don't deny it!"
"Novice Niva?"
"I choose. . . to be Rosethorn."
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Last Night Part 4: Becoming One
A/N- Niva's last name is going to be Andersson, and she has three brothers, Evan, Lars, and Dai. She also has her father, but no mum. Sorry, but I've never pictured her as a mum girl. And thanks to Winterrain for reviewing, muchos gracias!
Niva spread her arms across the ground. "Stop spinning the merry go round, Dai." When she still felt herself spinning, she frowned. "I mean it! There's going to be a whole lot of pavement pizza in a minute!" There was still no reply, so Niva open her eyes and tree-tops waving across the sky. Niva gagged at the sight threw up in the long grass at her side.
"I hate ambient magic," she mumbled into the ground. "Hate, hate, hate it. Why couldn't I have just been a stupid academic or something?" She knelt in the grass until the world stopped moving under her, then pulled herself up and looked around.
Slender, young cinnamon trees had grown up in a circle and they intermingled with scrubby bushes and a few leafy sprouts. Niva twitched her fingers towards the plants and they began to drop their seeds and bits of bark on her. She giggled loudly, then laughed almost hysterically in joy. Mila truly was on her side today.
The girl set to work gathering the supplies she needed. Soon she had a small heap of herbs and spices on a large rock in the middle of her green circle. She sorted through the ingredients, tossing the imperfect bits aside, until she had a good combination.
Niva narrowed her eyes. How can I make it into tea? I need to grind it up somehow and get a teabag. She looked about, and saw a large, smooth rock. It was the perfect fit for her hands. She gripped its sides and mashed it into the heap of herbs on the first rock. She could hear crunching noises and pushed harder. A little bit of rock dust won't hurt anyone.
After several minutes, she lifted her rock to reveal a gritty reddish powder. Perfect! I just need a bag now. An idea flashed into Niva's head and she grinned wickedly.
"I'm sorry for ripping your handiwork, temple seamstresses!" She ripped a large section off the bottom of her cotton undergown and relished the ragged edge that was left.
A quick brush of her hand, and the tea was gathered in the strip of cotton. Niva folded the fabric up and reached deep into her magical self. A glimmer of magic was returning. The girl gripped it and used it to carefully weave the edges of her tea-bag together, before falling back to the ground. The small act of magic was hard to do.
Niva toyed with a bit of cinnamon as she thought about what to do next. I'm ready to go back, except I don't had anything to wear. Not that I care, but Papa would appreciate it if I dressed up. What can I do? She tried to remember what she had heard other novices say about dedication ceremonies. Illena said that a lot of people just paint themselves up with mud. And Norris said some people make clothes out of leaves. . . She snorted and shook her head. The best way to represent the Earth Temple was to be natural. She looked down at the remainder of her undergown, which was streaked with dirt and grass stains. It isn't quite scandalously short. She glanced around surreptitiously, then- seeing no one- stripped out of her dress.
She smoothed it across the ground and held her hand in the air. "Can any of you give me some berries? Or leaves. . . or anything that stains?" She closed her eyes. I must sound ridiculous.
Something dropped into her hand, and then a whole barrage of plant matter showered her. Niva looked at her treasure. "Thank you!" The plants rustled as though a wind had blown through, and the girl felt a wave of acceptance from them.
She grinned and grabbed a fistful of red berries, squishing them in her palm. Sticky juice ran down her fingers and Niva began to paint her dedication dress.
A/N- I hadn't really planned on having the novices make their own clothes. That was accidental. I was sitting here forever, and then the idea for Niva's dress hit me. What did you think?
Niva spread her arms across the ground. "Stop spinning the merry go round, Dai." When she still felt herself spinning, she frowned. "I mean it! There's going to be a whole lot of pavement pizza in a minute!" There was still no reply, so Niva open her eyes and tree-tops waving across the sky. Niva gagged at the sight threw up in the long grass at her side.
"I hate ambient magic," she mumbled into the ground. "Hate, hate, hate it. Why couldn't I have just been a stupid academic or something?" She knelt in the grass until the world stopped moving under her, then pulled herself up and looked around.
Slender, young cinnamon trees had grown up in a circle and they intermingled with scrubby bushes and a few leafy sprouts. Niva twitched her fingers towards the plants and they began to drop their seeds and bits of bark on her. She giggled loudly, then laughed almost hysterically in joy. Mila truly was on her side today.
The girl set to work gathering the supplies she needed. Soon she had a small heap of herbs and spices on a large rock in the middle of her green circle. She sorted through the ingredients, tossing the imperfect bits aside, until she had a good combination.
Niva narrowed her eyes. How can I make it into tea? I need to grind it up somehow and get a teabag. She looked about, and saw a large, smooth rock. It was the perfect fit for her hands. She gripped its sides and mashed it into the heap of herbs on the first rock. She could hear crunching noises and pushed harder. A little bit of rock dust won't hurt anyone.
After several minutes, she lifted her rock to reveal a gritty reddish powder. Perfect! I just need a bag now. An idea flashed into Niva's head and she grinned wickedly.
"I'm sorry for ripping your handiwork, temple seamstresses!" She ripped a large section off the bottom of her cotton undergown and relished the ragged edge that was left.
A quick brush of her hand, and the tea was gathered in the strip of cotton. Niva folded the fabric up and reached deep into her magical self. A glimmer of magic was returning. The girl gripped it and used it to carefully weave the edges of her tea-bag together, before falling back to the ground. The small act of magic was hard to do.
Niva toyed with a bit of cinnamon as she thought about what to do next. I'm ready to go back, except I don't had anything to wear. Not that I care, but Papa would appreciate it if I dressed up. What can I do? She tried to remember what she had heard other novices say about dedication ceremonies. Illena said that a lot of people just paint themselves up with mud. And Norris said some people make clothes out of leaves. . . She snorted and shook her head. The best way to represent the Earth Temple was to be natural. She looked down at the remainder of her undergown, which was streaked with dirt and grass stains. It isn't quite scandalously short. She glanced around surreptitiously, then- seeing no one- stripped out of her dress.
She smoothed it across the ground and held her hand in the air. "Can any of you give me some berries? Or leaves. . . or anything that stains?" She closed her eyes. I must sound ridiculous.
Something dropped into her hand, and then a whole barrage of plant matter showered her. Niva looked at her treasure. "Thank you!" The plants rustled as though a wind had blown through, and the girl felt a wave of acceptance from them.
She grinned and grabbed a fistful of red berries, squishing them in her palm. Sticky juice ran down her fingers and Niva began to paint her dedication dress.
A/N- I hadn't really planned on having the novices make their own clothes. That was accidental. I was sitting here forever, and then the idea for Niva's dress hit me. What did you think?
The Last Night Part 3: Overused
I just realized I never posted this. Oops, sorry. The tea Niva makes, btw, is loosely based off Celestial Seasonings' "Sugar Plum Spice." Bon lit! (Is that what I mean to say?)
Someone grasped Niva's shoulder and gently shook her. The novice moaned and rolled over, further entangling herself in her blankets.
"Niva, dearest, you need to get up now. It's just past the seventh hour of the morning." Silverleaf pulled Niva's blankets away and draped them over the end of the bed.
Niva shivered in the sudden coolness, sat up, rubbed her eyes, and swung her feet to the floor before shuffling to her pine wardrobe. She had just opened it when Silverleaf placed her hand on the porcelain doorknob.
"You don't need a robe today. Dedication is about getting as close to your element as you can. Besides, no one wants to spend hours scrubbing grass and grime out of a white robe," Silverleaf smiled. "Use your water pitcher and handkerchief to wash up, then meet me outside, alright?"
Niva glanced at the other girls in her dorm room. "What about them? Aren't they coming too?"
Silverleaf shook her head. "No, this is just the seventeen to nineteen-year-olds' room, remember? You're the only one in here to be dedicated so young."
Niva blinked. She had assumed there were at least a few other girls her age taking vows and that just hadn't mentioned it. "Oh."
"There's five or six girls in the twenty-and-over dorm room, and a few boys as well, but you're the youngest," Silverleaf paused. "It's fine to be the youngest. You know Dedicate Moonstream, right? From the Water temple? She was the oldest in her group to take vows. I think she was. . . . about twenty-four."
Niva gasped. "No! She's so good, though!"
Silverleaf shrugged. "It's all in the hands of the gods." She gave Niva a last smile, then turned and headed out of the room.
Niva walked over to her small bedside table. She poured a thin stream of water into her bowl and watched it sparkle in the early dawn light. She dipped her kerchief into the water and hurriedly washed her face and neck. She paused when she finished, and slid the square of fabric into her pocket. It might be useful. She knelt to reach under her bed and pulled out a smooth wooden box. It was dark Anderran cherry with strips of zebra-wood. She pulled the key from the ribbon around her neck and opened the box.
A cloud of herb-scented air rolled out. Several carved and painted god and goddess figures nestled in the box, along with bags of herbs, letters, and other mementos of Niva's old home. The novice drew out a small drawing in a gilt frame. There were two girls, one red-haired in an emerald-green dress and the other blonde with a faded pink dress. They were smiling widely.
Niva kissed the picture for good luck and laid it back in its place. She pulled the necklace Isas had given her out of a little drawer in the box and clasped it around her neck. She locked the box again, put it away, and joined Silverleaf outside the dormitory.
Four girls and five boys waited with the dedicate in the pre-dawn light. They were all a few years older than Niva, and she looked down, blushing.
Silverleaf counted the novices quickly, then turned and led them down the main temple road, towards the hub. "I believe you all know what's going to happen today," the dedicate said as she walked along. "Generally. It's my duty to tell you what you should expect today, and wish you luck and the gods' blessings."
Niva shivered. Why did you have to say that, Silverleaf? You're making it sound like we might die or something.
"I'm taking you to the Heartfire chamber, under the Hub. You'll be anointed and blessed and given instructions for your. . . . dedication."
They walked in silence until they reached the Hub. Silverleaf lead the novices off the temple road and around the side of the building. She stopped, part of the way around, and stepped up to the Hub's stone wall. Niva frowned as the Dedicate drew a symbol on the wall with her finger. Magic flared like silver paint and a door-sized section of the wall swung open, as if it was hinged. Silverleaf held the door open and ushered the novices into the Heartfire chamber.
Niva blinked in the sudden darkness, trying to regain her vision. A bonfire burned in the middle of the room, but it was pouring thick, herb-scented smoke into the air, which effectively cloaked the room in shadow. The room was divided into quadrants, three of which were already filled with novices sitting on the floor.
Silverleaf lead the Earth novices around the edge of the circular room to the last quadrant, before walking up to the Heartfire, where several other dedicates of assorted temples were waiting.
Niva glanced around, then sat on the floor like everyone else.
"Today is a very special day in your lives," a Fire dedicate called in a deep voice. "Today you will take vows that will bind you to your chosen god or goddess-"
"For life." A tiny Water dedicate continued. "You will vow to serve the poor, your gods, and your temple in any way you can."
"Your dedication starts here, in the Heartfire." This time, Silverleaf was speaking. "You will choose which temple to join and be marked with its element."
"Then you will go into the fields around the temple and find the meaning of your dedication," an old Air dedicate finished. "It is different for everyone."
A tall, pale woman in a gold-bordered yellow habit stepped forwards. Niva gasped. The woman was Froststar, the head dedicate of the temple. Niva had only seen the woman on two other occasions: the day Niva had arrived at Winding Circle, and the day she took her novitiate's vows.
"Decide now where you want to be," Froststar called loudly. "Go to the quadrant of your choice and be marked. Then go to the fields. Return to the front of the Hub, after you have found a meaning for your vows. Use your magic and create something to give to your god or goddess upon your return. The dedication ceremony for your families is directly after you have all arrived back, so find something to wear." She smiled at them turned, and raised her hands to the Heartfire. It roared and flames licked the ceiling. Then the fire gave a burst of smoke that turned the room to blackness.
Niva coughed, then looked back at the fire in shock. It was now made up of twisting flames in blue, green, yellow, and red. Each color flame streamed from a quarter of the fire-pit, then rose to spiral around other flames.
A green-robed dedicate stepped up to Niva. He held a copper bowl in his left hand. "Do you choose to serve the Earth?"
Niva nodded, speechless.
The dedicate dipped his finger into his bowl and knelt next to the girl. He had a large glob of pale brown cream on his finger. He painted the cream in a straight line down the middle of Niva's face. It was cold and gritty, and Niva shivered as the man painted a horizontal line across her cheekbones. The lines formed the symbol of the Earth temple. The dedicate stood and moved onto the next person.
Niva forced herself not to run her fingers over her face. She stood up and picked her way between novices and dedicates to the door Silverleaf had brought her through. A few other novices were leaving too. Niva didn't look at them. She was afraid that one of them might be Isas. She didn't want to know which temple he was joining. She still had a small spark of hope in him joining the Earth temple.
She slipped out the door and into the already warm morning. The sun was rising, casting a pink glow over the periwinkle shadows. Niva looked around at the roads that spread through the temple.
Go to the fields around the temple. Niva chose the main road, one she knew would lead out the South gate and began to jog along it. To her surprise, the gate was open, flanked by a pair of Fire dedicates who merely nodded to her as she hurried out.
Start with the easiest thing to do. Make something for Mila and the Green Man. I can make. . . um. . . Niva thought deeply. Something to benefit people. After all, isn't that what Mila does with all of her plants? But what am I good at?
Tea, said a little voice in Niva's head. You can make tea. You and Isas had plenty of practice with tea at Lightsbridge.
I can make an endurance tea! I could make it and take it to the poor, just like Froststar said. What will I need? I want something strong, that can keep people awake. Niva began to compose a list in her head. Chicory, cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg. If I can find black pepper, that would make it even better. Niva stopped dead in the middle of the field, tall grass licking her legs. None of that stuff is wild out here though. The temple orders it all from other places. The girl bit her lip and frowned. Then she grinned. "This is what magic is for!"
She sat down in the field and carefully grasped a blade of grass. They never taught us this in class. She reached deep into herself, grabbed a rootlet of power, and twisted it around the grass. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I can do this." Magic began to pour into the grass. Niva grasped it gently and tried to shape it into cinnamon trees and scrubby chicory plants. The grass resisted; Niva could feel it twisting away from her. She gripped the magic harder and slammed her will into the plants.
It was as though she had broken through a door. Bits of dirt and roots were blasted into the air as Niva's tree and bushes exploded into life. Magic roared around her and swam in her veins. She gasped at the power. There was a loud creak and rustling noise as the new plants settled.
Dirt and leaves rained down around Niva. She watched her plants bud, bloom, and grow fruits. The bushes shivered for the last time and Niva could see a little ginger plant under one of the bushes. She smiled. Now she could start on the tea itself.
Suddenly, the power Niva held vanished. It was as though the magic had lasted as long as she needed it and not any longer. Niva's smile slid off her face as she realized her magic was gone too. She had overused herself. Again.
"Mila bless me," Niva mumbled as the ground rushed up to meet her.
"Niva, dearest, you need to get up now. It's just past the seventh hour of the morning." Silverleaf pulled Niva's blankets away and draped them over the end of the bed.
Niva shivered in the sudden coolness, sat up, rubbed her eyes, and swung her feet to the floor before shuffling to her pine wardrobe. She had just opened it when Silverleaf placed her hand on the porcelain doorknob.
"You don't need a robe today. Dedication is about getting as close to your element as you can. Besides, no one wants to spend hours scrubbing grass and grime out of a white robe," Silverleaf smiled. "Use your water pitcher and handkerchief to wash up, then meet me outside, alright?"
Niva glanced at the other girls in her dorm room. "What about them? Aren't they coming too?"
Silverleaf shook her head. "No, this is just the seventeen to nineteen-year-olds' room, remember? You're the only one in here to be dedicated so young."
Niva blinked. She had assumed there were at least a few other girls her age taking vows and that just hadn't mentioned it. "Oh."
"There's five or six girls in the twenty-and-over dorm room, and a few boys as well, but you're the youngest," Silverleaf paused. "It's fine to be the youngest. You know Dedicate Moonstream, right? From the Water temple? She was the oldest in her group to take vows. I think she was. . . . about twenty-four."
Niva gasped. "No! She's so good, though!"
Silverleaf shrugged. "It's all in the hands of the gods." She gave Niva a last smile, then turned and headed out of the room.
Niva walked over to her small bedside table. She poured a thin stream of water into her bowl and watched it sparkle in the early dawn light. She dipped her kerchief into the water and hurriedly washed her face and neck. She paused when she finished, and slid the square of fabric into her pocket. It might be useful. She knelt to reach under her bed and pulled out a smooth wooden box. It was dark Anderran cherry with strips of zebra-wood. She pulled the key from the ribbon around her neck and opened the box.
A cloud of herb-scented air rolled out. Several carved and painted god and goddess figures nestled in the box, along with bags of herbs, letters, and other mementos of Niva's old home. The novice drew out a small drawing in a gilt frame. There were two girls, one red-haired in an emerald-green dress and the other blonde with a faded pink dress. They were smiling widely.
Niva kissed the picture for good luck and laid it back in its place. She pulled the necklace Isas had given her out of a little drawer in the box and clasped it around her neck. She locked the box again, put it away, and joined Silverleaf outside the dormitory.
Four girls and five boys waited with the dedicate in the pre-dawn light. They were all a few years older than Niva, and she looked down, blushing.
Silverleaf counted the novices quickly, then turned and led them down the main temple road, towards the hub. "I believe you all know what's going to happen today," the dedicate said as she walked along. "Generally. It's my duty to tell you what you should expect today, and wish you luck and the gods' blessings."
Niva shivered. Why did you have to say that, Silverleaf? You're making it sound like we might die or something.
"I'm taking you to the Heartfire chamber, under the Hub. You'll be anointed and blessed and given instructions for your. . . . dedication."
They walked in silence until they reached the Hub. Silverleaf lead the novices off the temple road and around the side of the building. She stopped, part of the way around, and stepped up to the Hub's stone wall. Niva frowned as the Dedicate drew a symbol on the wall with her finger. Magic flared like silver paint and a door-sized section of the wall swung open, as if it was hinged. Silverleaf held the door open and ushered the novices into the Heartfire chamber.
Niva blinked in the sudden darkness, trying to regain her vision. A bonfire burned in the middle of the room, but it was pouring thick, herb-scented smoke into the air, which effectively cloaked the room in shadow. The room was divided into quadrants, three of which were already filled with novices sitting on the floor.
Silverleaf lead the Earth novices around the edge of the circular room to the last quadrant, before walking up to the Heartfire, where several other dedicates of assorted temples were waiting.
Niva glanced around, then sat on the floor like everyone else.
"Today is a very special day in your lives," a Fire dedicate called in a deep voice. "Today you will take vows that will bind you to your chosen god or goddess-"
"For life." A tiny Water dedicate continued. "You will vow to serve the poor, your gods, and your temple in any way you can."
"Your dedication starts here, in the Heartfire." This time, Silverleaf was speaking. "You will choose which temple to join and be marked with its element."
"Then you will go into the fields around the temple and find the meaning of your dedication," an old Air dedicate finished. "It is different for everyone."
A tall, pale woman in a gold-bordered yellow habit stepped forwards. Niva gasped. The woman was Froststar, the head dedicate of the temple. Niva had only seen the woman on two other occasions: the day Niva had arrived at Winding Circle, and the day she took her novitiate's vows.
"Decide now where you want to be," Froststar called loudly. "Go to the quadrant of your choice and be marked. Then go to the fields. Return to the front of the Hub, after you have found a meaning for your vows. Use your magic and create something to give to your god or goddess upon your return. The dedication ceremony for your families is directly after you have all arrived back, so find something to wear." She smiled at them turned, and raised her hands to the Heartfire. It roared and flames licked the ceiling. Then the fire gave a burst of smoke that turned the room to blackness.
Niva coughed, then looked back at the fire in shock. It was now made up of twisting flames in blue, green, yellow, and red. Each color flame streamed from a quarter of the fire-pit, then rose to spiral around other flames.
A green-robed dedicate stepped up to Niva. He held a copper bowl in his left hand. "Do you choose to serve the Earth?"
Niva nodded, speechless.
The dedicate dipped his finger into his bowl and knelt next to the girl. He had a large glob of pale brown cream on his finger. He painted the cream in a straight line down the middle of Niva's face. It was cold and gritty, and Niva shivered as the man painted a horizontal line across her cheekbones. The lines formed the symbol of the Earth temple. The dedicate stood and moved onto the next person.
Niva forced herself not to run her fingers over her face. She stood up and picked her way between novices and dedicates to the door Silverleaf had brought her through. A few other novices were leaving too. Niva didn't look at them. She was afraid that one of them might be Isas. She didn't want to know which temple he was joining. She still had a small spark of hope in him joining the Earth temple.
She slipped out the door and into the already warm morning. The sun was rising, casting a pink glow over the periwinkle shadows. Niva looked around at the roads that spread through the temple.
Go to the fields around the temple. Niva chose the main road, one she knew would lead out the South gate and began to jog along it. To her surprise, the gate was open, flanked by a pair of Fire dedicates who merely nodded to her as she hurried out.
Start with the easiest thing to do. Make something for Mila and the Green Man. I can make. . . um. . . Niva thought deeply. Something to benefit people. After all, isn't that what Mila does with all of her plants? But what am I good at?
Tea, said a little voice in Niva's head. You can make tea. You and Isas had plenty of practice with tea at Lightsbridge.
I can make an endurance tea! I could make it and take it to the poor, just like Froststar said. What will I need? I want something strong, that can keep people awake. Niva began to compose a list in her head. Chicory, cinnamon, ginger, cardamom, cloves, nutmeg. If I can find black pepper, that would make it even better. Niva stopped dead in the middle of the field, tall grass licking her legs. None of that stuff is wild out here though. The temple orders it all from other places. The girl bit her lip and frowned. Then she grinned. "This is what magic is for!"
She sat down in the field and carefully grasped a blade of grass. They never taught us this in class. She reached deep into herself, grabbed a rootlet of power, and twisted it around the grass. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I can do this." Magic began to pour into the grass. Niva grasped it gently and tried to shape it into cinnamon trees and scrubby chicory plants. The grass resisted; Niva could feel it twisting away from her. She gripped the magic harder and slammed her will into the plants.
It was as though she had broken through a door. Bits of dirt and roots were blasted into the air as Niva's tree and bushes exploded into life. Magic roared around her and swam in her veins. She gasped at the power. There was a loud creak and rustling noise as the new plants settled.
Dirt and leaves rained down around Niva. She watched her plants bud, bloom, and grow fruits. The bushes shivered for the last time and Niva could see a little ginger plant under one of the bushes. She smiled. Now she could start on the tea itself.
Suddenly, the power Niva held vanished. It was as though the magic had lasted as long as she needed it and not any longer. Niva's smile slid off her face as she realized her magic was gone too. She had overused herself. Again.
"Mila bless me," Niva mumbled as the ground rushed up to meet her.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
The Last Night Part 2 (The Mila Flower)
cont..... ( a/n I can't remember any Circle Universe mages are/were strong enough to fly, so....)
The novices backed out of the altar room and left the cottage. Isas clicked the door shut behind them, then took Niva's hand and began to run along the temple road again. He ran down the main road, and Niva followed.
A cluster of large, dark buildings loomed up ahead. Niva looked up as she ran past. It was the Air dormitories. They were made of white and pink granite that glittered in the moonlight. Silvery magic washed over the walls and Niva paused to look. Someone had taken the time to carve signs for movement and wind into the stone, so the crystalline rock appeared to swirl like eddying wind.
Isas stopped and looked back at Niva. "It's incredible isn't it? I wonder who did it. I asked First Dedicate Whitewing once, but she didn't know. I think it's been here for a long time."
Niva nodded. "It looks old." She stood up and dusted off her skirts. "Where were we going?"
"This way." Isas led her along a dirt path that disappeared into a copse of maple trees. They walked along the path, which was silent but for the maples whispering in the night. They let moonlight dapple the ground and camouflage everything beneath their boughs.
Isas stopped suddenly and Niva nearly crashed into him again. He gestured to a towering tree with thick bark, surrounded by a thorny raspberry bush. "This is it." He walked around to the far side of the tree, and Niva saw a rough wooden ladder had been built onto the tree. Isas draped one hand over a rung. "Ladies first."
Niva gripped a rung above her head and began to climb. After a moment she could hear Isas starting up after her. She looked down at him and immediately wished she hadn't. The ground seemed far below and the raspberry bush looked much smaller than she remembered. Niva gasped and began to breath faster.
"My dear, look in front of you and keep climbing. I won't let you fall. I'm an Air mage, if you remember, and I could catch you before you even knew you fell off."
Niva took a deep breath and began climbing up the tree again. Cold sweat slicked her back and her hands shook. She raised her left hand to grip the next rung, only to discover there wasn't a piece of wood. "Isas!" she called, trying not to sound panicked. "There's a rung missing!"
"You've climbed to the end of the ladder, Niva. Come back down a little bit and there's a platform to stand on. You must not have seen it."
Niva edged down a few feet, and sure enough, Isas was standing on a large, wooden platform that wrapped around the tree. "Oh." She reached her arm out towards the other novice and he pulled her onto the platform. He walked to the other side of the platform and pushed a maple branch away from their faces.
"Look, Niva."
She gazed out across the temple, which was bathed in silver moonlight. The glass in the Hub clock gleamed with light and the sea seemed to be molten silver. "It's beautiful."
"I wanted you to see it. I've come up here a lot. . . . to think and study. I wanted you to see it before our dedication, because. . . . well, it seems like we're on the same side now and I'm afraid that it won't be like that later."
"Yeah, I understand I think." Niva looked out. "Have you chosen your name now?"
"No." Isas glanced at her. "Maybe we could help each other. Tell me what I remind you of and I'll tell you."
Niva grinned. "A heron or a crane. One of those long-legged things that dances around everywhere. Everyone thinks they're so graceful, but I saw a heron once, and it just looked awkward, rather unbalanced. But then it started moving and it flew and I understood. It was graceful when it did what it lived for. That's what you're like. A rather awkward lordling who happily dissects perfumes and diseases."
Isas laughed warmly. "Is that how you see me? I never thought of myself that way." He traced the maple's bark with one finger. "You're like a thorn-"
"A thorn? Like a thorn in your foot?" Niva pretended to look hurt.
"No! A thorn like the kind on a rose or a raspberry. Roses and raspberries are pretty and sweet, respectively, and they have thorns guarding them. You're like the rose, pretty and wonderful, but you have sharp thorns that jab people who are stupid enough to say that."
"I like that," Niva said. "Rose's thorn or Berrythorn. Heron or Crane or Awkward Lordling," she giggled.
Isas smiled as the Hub clock chimed the hours. "Asaia, it's late!" He grabbed Niva's wrist as she turned back to the ladder. "I have a better way down. Just promise not to scream." He laid a finger across Niva's lips and she nodded. Isas in front of her. "Put your arms around my waist and follow me. Don't let go." Niva pulled her novice's robe back over her head, then held Isas tightly.
He stepped forward, off the platform and into thin air. Niva opened her mouth and gasped out a prayer.
"Mila save me!"
Wind howled past the novices and stung their eyes as they fell through the air. Tears dripped from Niva's eyes and rose up past her face. The silvery ground drew nearer and nearer.
Isas is trying to kill both of us, Niva thought. She began to call upon the green strength inside her, to tell the great maple tree to wrap its branches around her and Isas and break their fall.
Suddenly, a great burst of golden magic enveloped them and the air around. Isas stretched out his arms and they slowed to a speed barely faster than a trot. They stopped falling downwards and instead soared forwards, over the cottages and workshops of Winding Circle.
Niva stared, awestruck, as the temple unfolded beneath her. She could see dedicates sleeping in their cottages. One man, dark-skinned and clothed only in leather breeches, worked in the red glow of a forge. His arm rose and fell over an anvil. Then he was behind Niva and she looked elsewhere.
She could see an old stone building drawing near. It was the Earth dormitory.
Isas slowed even more, and stopped over the flowerbeds just outside the building. He and Niva drifted down and settled in the dirt. Niva curled her toes into the soil.
"Isas, that was. . . . incredible. I've never seen anything like it."
The other novice was bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked.
Niva stared at him. "Enjoy it? That was the most amazing thing I've done in my life! I loved it."
He looked up. "I'm glad. I've. . . . well, I've been practicing for a while." He blushed. "Actually, a really long time. Since Lightsbridge." He straightened up and stepped through the flowers to the window set in the stone wall. He peered in. "This is your dorm room, right?"
Niva moved next to him. She looked through the glass. Dedicate Silverleaf was still asleep, mouth open with one hand trailing along the floor. Niva grinned. "Yeah, this is it."
Isas slid his fingers into the crack between the window and the wall and pulled the window open. He bowed with a flourish. "Fair dreams, my dear." He held out his hand and helped Niva climb back into her room.
She was about to shut the window again when he said "Niva."
"Yes?"
He drew her hand towards him and slid something into it, before pushing her hand closed. "For luck tomorrow." Then he was gone, disappearing into the night again.
Niva latched the window and sat on the edge of her bed and opened her hand. A gleaming necklace lay in her palm. It was in the shape of a four petaled flower; four small, deep blue-green petals held a small purple gem in their center. Two sets of metal loops wrapped the outside of the petals, one set matched and the other was gold. It all hung on a thin, dark violet cord that was barely thicker than a few threads. Niva surreptitiously pulled on it; it was stronger than it appeared.
She flipped it over to examine the back. There was a shallow bubble. Niva held the necklace closer to her eye and realized the bubble was part of a cleverly concealed locket. She edged her fingernail into the locket's seam, flipped it open, and pulled out a piece of parchment.
This, my dear, is in the shape of a Mila flower. They are grown in Olart by many people for luck and happiness. My father's people have flowers for most every god and goddess, but the Mila flower has been my favorite. I believe you'll dedicate yourself to Mila and the Green Man, so it is also the most appropriate. Best wishes, Isas.
The novices backed out of the altar room and left the cottage. Isas clicked the door shut behind them, then took Niva's hand and began to run along the temple road again. He ran down the main road, and Niva followed.
A cluster of large, dark buildings loomed up ahead. Niva looked up as she ran past. It was the Air dormitories. They were made of white and pink granite that glittered in the moonlight. Silvery magic washed over the walls and Niva paused to look. Someone had taken the time to carve signs for movement and wind into the stone, so the crystalline rock appeared to swirl like eddying wind.
Isas stopped and looked back at Niva. "It's incredible isn't it? I wonder who did it. I asked First Dedicate Whitewing once, but she didn't know. I think it's been here for a long time."
Niva nodded. "It looks old." She stood up and dusted off her skirts. "Where were we going?"
"This way." Isas led her along a dirt path that disappeared into a copse of maple trees. They walked along the path, which was silent but for the maples whispering in the night. They let moonlight dapple the ground and camouflage everything beneath their boughs.
Isas stopped suddenly and Niva nearly crashed into him again. He gestured to a towering tree with thick bark, surrounded by a thorny raspberry bush. "This is it." He walked around to the far side of the tree, and Niva saw a rough wooden ladder had been built onto the tree. Isas draped one hand over a rung. "Ladies first."
Niva gripped a rung above her head and began to climb. After a moment she could hear Isas starting up after her. She looked down at him and immediately wished she hadn't. The ground seemed far below and the raspberry bush looked much smaller than she remembered. Niva gasped and began to breath faster.
"My dear, look in front of you and keep climbing. I won't let you fall. I'm an Air mage, if you remember, and I could catch you before you even knew you fell off."
Niva took a deep breath and began climbing up the tree again. Cold sweat slicked her back and her hands shook. She raised her left hand to grip the next rung, only to discover there wasn't a piece of wood. "Isas!" she called, trying not to sound panicked. "There's a rung missing!"
"You've climbed to the end of the ladder, Niva. Come back down a little bit and there's a platform to stand on. You must not have seen it."
Niva edged down a few feet, and sure enough, Isas was standing on a large, wooden platform that wrapped around the tree. "Oh." She reached her arm out towards the other novice and he pulled her onto the platform. He walked to the other side of the platform and pushed a maple branch away from their faces.
"Look, Niva."
She gazed out across the temple, which was bathed in silver moonlight. The glass in the Hub clock gleamed with light and the sea seemed to be molten silver. "It's beautiful."
"I wanted you to see it. I've come up here a lot. . . . to think and study. I wanted you to see it before our dedication, because. . . . well, it seems like we're on the same side now and I'm afraid that it won't be like that later."
"Yeah, I understand I think." Niva looked out. "Have you chosen your name now?"
"No." Isas glanced at her. "Maybe we could help each other. Tell me what I remind you of and I'll tell you."
Niva grinned. "A heron or a crane. One of those long-legged things that dances around everywhere. Everyone thinks they're so graceful, but I saw a heron once, and it just looked awkward, rather unbalanced. But then it started moving and it flew and I understood. It was graceful when it did what it lived for. That's what you're like. A rather awkward lordling who happily dissects perfumes and diseases."
Isas laughed warmly. "Is that how you see me? I never thought of myself that way." He traced the maple's bark with one finger. "You're like a thorn-"
"A thorn? Like a thorn in your foot?" Niva pretended to look hurt.
"No! A thorn like the kind on a rose or a raspberry. Roses and raspberries are pretty and sweet, respectively, and they have thorns guarding them. You're like the rose, pretty and wonderful, but you have sharp thorns that jab people who are stupid enough to say that."
"I like that," Niva said. "Rose's thorn or Berrythorn. Heron or Crane or Awkward Lordling," she giggled.
Isas smiled as the Hub clock chimed the hours. "Asaia, it's late!" He grabbed Niva's wrist as she turned back to the ladder. "I have a better way down. Just promise not to scream." He laid a finger across Niva's lips and she nodded. Isas in front of her. "Put your arms around my waist and follow me. Don't let go." Niva pulled her novice's robe back over her head, then held Isas tightly.
He stepped forward, off the platform and into thin air. Niva opened her mouth and gasped out a prayer.
"Mila save me!"
Wind howled past the novices and stung their eyes as they fell through the air. Tears dripped from Niva's eyes and rose up past her face. The silvery ground drew nearer and nearer.
Isas is trying to kill both of us, Niva thought. She began to call upon the green strength inside her, to tell the great maple tree to wrap its branches around her and Isas and break their fall.
Suddenly, a great burst of golden magic enveloped them and the air around. Isas stretched out his arms and they slowed to a speed barely faster than a trot. They stopped falling downwards and instead soared forwards, over the cottages and workshops of Winding Circle.
Niva stared, awestruck, as the temple unfolded beneath her. She could see dedicates sleeping in their cottages. One man, dark-skinned and clothed only in leather breeches, worked in the red glow of a forge. His arm rose and fell over an anvil. Then he was behind Niva and she looked elsewhere.
She could see an old stone building drawing near. It was the Earth dormitory.
Isas slowed even more, and stopped over the flowerbeds just outside the building. He and Niva drifted down and settled in the dirt. Niva curled her toes into the soil.
"Isas, that was. . . . incredible. I've never seen anything like it."
The other novice was bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "Did you enjoy it?" he asked.
Niva stared at him. "Enjoy it? That was the most amazing thing I've done in my life! I loved it."
He looked up. "I'm glad. I've. . . . well, I've been practicing for a while." He blushed. "Actually, a really long time. Since Lightsbridge." He straightened up and stepped through the flowers to the window set in the stone wall. He peered in. "This is your dorm room, right?"
Niva moved next to him. She looked through the glass. Dedicate Silverleaf was still asleep, mouth open with one hand trailing along the floor. Niva grinned. "Yeah, this is it."
Isas slid his fingers into the crack between the window and the wall and pulled the window open. He bowed with a flourish. "Fair dreams, my dear." He held out his hand and helped Niva climb back into her room.
She was about to shut the window again when he said "Niva."
"Yes?"
He drew her hand towards him and slid something into it, before pushing her hand closed. "For luck tomorrow." Then he was gone, disappearing into the night again.
Niva latched the window and sat on the edge of her bed and opened her hand. A gleaming necklace lay in her palm. It was in the shape of a four petaled flower; four small, deep blue-green petals held a small purple gem in their center. Two sets of metal loops wrapped the outside of the petals, one set matched and the other was gold. It all hung on a thin, dark violet cord that was barely thicker than a few threads. Niva surreptitiously pulled on it; it was stronger than it appeared.
She flipped it over to examine the back. There was a shallow bubble. Niva held the necklace closer to her eye and realized the bubble was part of a cleverly concealed locket. She edged her fingernail into the locket's seam, flipped it open, and pulled out a piece of parchment.
This, my dear, is in the shape of a Mila flower. They are grown in Olart by many people for luck and happiness. My father's people have flowers for most every god and goddess, but the Mila flower has been my favorite. I believe you'll dedicate yourself to Mila and the Green Man, so it is also the most appropriate. Best wishes, Isas.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
The Last Night Part 1 (Tigerlily's House)
I suppose everyone knows that they aren't mine... I've decided that Peachleaf, Gorse, Henna, and Moonstream are all older than Niva, Isas, and Vayni. Vayni is going to be Lark's novice name. I don't think she'll be in this chapter, but just FYI.
The Last Night
Niva laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through the open widow of the Earth dormitories. It was nearly midnight and Niva was counting the last minutes of her old life.
She was going to dedicate herself to the Earth temple in the morning. She would be stuck in Winding Circle forever, bound by her vows.
Niva threw back her sheet and padded over to the window. She pried the latch up and swung the window open. She glanced over her shoulder, back into the dormitory.
Dedicate Silverleaf, the dorm supervisor, was flat on her back, snoring quietly. The poor woman didn't know that sleeping powder had been slipped into her evening tea.
Niva clambered out the window and pulled it shut behind herself. She walked through the grass and turned onto the main temple road.
The night was warm and nearly pitch-black, thanks to a thin, crescent moon. No one else was walking along the road. A few Fire dedicates patrolled the temple wall, but everyone else was abed.
A thin hand reached out of the shadows and snagged Niva's sleeve. She jumped backwards and tripped over the hem of her white robe, landing in the dirt.
"Isas! What are you doing?" she whispered hotly. "You're not supposed to be out here!"
The other novice raised his eyebrows and draped his long arms artistically. "Neither are you. No one except for them," he nodded towards the dedicates on the wall. "Is supposed to be out right now. Especially us, since we're getting- " he paused. "Since we're getting dedicated tomorrow."
Niva snorted. "You still can't get over the idea that you're going to be stuck here for the rest of your life. I'd have thought you'd have accepted it by now."
"Not everyone is as quick to adapt as you are, my dear." He grabbed Niva's arm and hauled her back up. "Is your family here for the dedication?"
"Mmm-hm. My father hired some people to help with the farm and he and my brothers came down to Summersea. That's what he said in his letter, at least. He said they would come to Summersea, then travel here, to the temple, in the morning. Your family?"
Isas smiled cynically. "My father is too busy at the estate in Olart. My mother and sister are here though. I expect I'll see them tomorrow. I can introduce you."
An image of two ladies in ruffled dresses and pearl necklaces with carefully coiffed hair drifted across Niva's thoughts. She shivered. There are more people like him, she thought. "Wonderful. I'd be... charmed." She switched subjects abruptly. "Have you chosen your new name yet?"
Isas sighed. "No, I haven't."
Niva laughed softly. "Neither have I. Come and walk with me. Maybe we can get some ideas." She grasped his arm and pulled him off the path, into the gardens around the cottages and dormitories of the temple.
They slipped between the dark greenery, which was warm and damp in the humid air. Niva pulled Isas though a shadowy grove of gnarly trees and onto a lawn that sprawled around the Water dormitories.
The lawn was smooth, with a few shrubs and bushes.
Isas ducked his head and breathed deeply. He looked up at the back of Niva's head. Her long, auburn hair swung across her shoulders. It looked almost black in the night.
Suddenly, Isas stumbled. His foot hadn't landed on the grass. The young man fell, arms out before him, into a large pool of water. It had appeared smooth, like the grass, in the darkness. Isas pushed himself out of the water. Niva had skipped ahead and she was giggling madly.
Isas frowned at her. "You knew that was there."
"If I did?" Niva grinned.
Isas rolled his eyes, trying to look serious. "May I have a hand up?" He extended his dripping arm towards her. She grasped his hand and pulled, but Isas pulled harder and Niva splashed into the water.
She surfaced a moment later and spat water. "That wasn't fair!"
"Neither was your trick."
Niva sighed and floated on her back. "I suppose. We're even now."
Isas looked at her. Her white novitiate robe swirled around her, drifting in the water. "Your name," he said shortly. "Have you any ideas?"
She turned her head to look at him. "No. I guess I've been hoping that it will just come to me, that Mila and the Green Man will just say 'This is your name.' I suppose I want a plant name. It seems to be traditional to pick a name that associates you with your temple. I mean, look at Moonstream. Streams are part of water. And Silverleaf, well, that's obvious."
Isas shrugged. "There are non-traditional names as well. Gorse and Henna. You can't really guess where they're from. Most people would just think they're from the Earth temple. What about Peachleaf? She's Water temple."
Niva sat up. "I need more inspiration. Let's go somewhere else." She leaned over and kissed Isas' nose gently. "Come along." She pulled him out of the water and she danced across the lawn, with Isas right behind her. She leaped over the stone border of the Water dormitory grounds and paused on the temple road.
"Where do we go now?"
Isas smiled. "I know the most amazing place."
Niva held him back. "Is it very far? We probably shouldn't stay out all night."
"It's by the Air dormitories. So we have a bit of a run ahead of us if we actually want to sleep tonight."
Niva grinned. She grasped her white robe under her arms and whipped it off, over her head.
Isas gasped and looked away. He could hear Niva laughing. "What?" he said, eyes on the ground.
"I've got my underskirts on."
"Oh." Isas blushed and looked up. Niva was rolling her wet robe up, and true to her word, she was wearing a white, sleeveless shirt and several lacy petticoats that clung to her legs.
"It's hard to run in wet skirts, so I figured I might as well take the heaviest skirt off." She tucked her robe under her arm. "Lead on."
Isas turned and started jogging down the path. He had only gone a short ways when Niva loped ahead. Isas ran faster, and soon they were both sprinting down the path.
The gravel crunched under their feet. They raced path cottages and workshops, until Isas stopped before a dark, disused cottage.
Niva skidded to a halt, gasping. "What's this, Isas?"
The cottage was large, with whitewashed walls and a thatched roof. Trees and flowerbeds lined the inside of the white picket fence.
"It's just pretty and. . . it's special and I wanted to show it to you." He eased the latch on the gate up, and slid into the yard.
Niva could feel the plants clamoring for her attention as soon as she stepped over the threshold. She held out her hands and sent a wave of magic through the plants to calm them.
A rosebush tendril kept moving towards her. Niva was about to move it away, when Isas stepped forward. The plant squirmed into his cupped hands. A small rosebud burst into bloom and it gleamed palely in the night.
Isas knows how to grow plants, Niva admitted to herself.
The rose dropped into Isas' hands and the tendril returned to its bush. Isas turned to Niva and slid the rose's stem into her hair.
"It's called a tequila sunrise rose. They grow in Yanjing and Chammur, typically. My father received one from the Empress of Namorn. He gave it to me and I planted it here."
"Why did you plant it at this cottage?" Niva asked.
"My teacher lived here."
Niva nodded. She had known Tigerlily a little, and knew the Dedicate Initiate had been Isas' teacher for most of the novice's training. Tigerlily had died the year after Isas and Niva returned from Lightsbridge. There had been a smallpox epidemic in Summersea and Tigerlily had used too much of her magic trying to heal others.
"No one lives here now," Isas said as he walked up to the cottage's front door. He grasped the door-handle lightly.
Niva ran her fingers along the name over the door. "Discipline. What a wonderful place for a mage to live. Mila, if only everyone could live in discipline."
Isas snorted. "That would be quite the cottage." He looked up the wall. "I wonder who's been taking care of this place. It's been empty for- "
"Nearly three years now," Niva finished. She laid her hand over Isas' hand and opened the door. Musty, herb-scented air washed over them. Niva peered into the darkness. "Isas? Do you know where the altar is? I'd like to light a candle for Tigerlily before we leave. It seems fitting, as if we are visiting her."
Isas stepped into the cottage and walked down the hall. He didn't go very far; instead he turned right into a small room. Niva moved past him and nearly bumped into the altar. She reached down the side of the table for the customary drawer that would hold incense and candles for the altar. Her fingers closed around a matchbox and a long taper. She struck the match up, and gold light flared aroung her fingers.
Isas daintily took the match from Niva and held it under his chin, so his face flickered with shadows.
"It was a dark night," he whispered. "Lightning and rain poured from the skies. In an alleyway in Khapik- ow!" The match burnt his fingers and he dropped it.
Niva giggled and crushed the match under her shoe. She struck another match and lit her taper. She held it over the altar.
The wooden surface was bare and dusty. Isas swept his sleeve across the wood and reached into the drawer for god-figurines and incense.
Niva set her candle in a silver holder on the altar and helped Isas to pull out the supplies. She set the figures of Mila and the Green Man in the left corner with Yanna Healtouch, Lakik, and Shurri Firesword on the right. Isas set Asaia Birdwinged in the center and set a small blue-green bowl at her feet. Mila set another dish before Mila and the Green Man.
"I suppose we ought to honor the others, too," she whispered into the silence.
Isas drew out another bowl and set it before the remaining gods. He pulled a large packet out of the drawer and held the candle over it.
"Rosehip and lilac incense." He poured a small amount into each dish, then put the packet away. Niva set votive candles around the figurines and Isas set a slightly larger candle in the center of the altar.
Niva took the taper from Isas and lit the candles and incense. Rosy smoke and golden light filled the room.
"Mila and Green Man watch over Tigerlily," Niva whispered. "May she be able to grow tomatoes and be happy, wherever she is."
Isas laughed softly. "May she have tomatoes and happiness," he echoed. "So mote it be."
"So mote it be."
The Last Night
Niva laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Moonlight streamed through the open widow of the Earth dormitories. It was nearly midnight and Niva was counting the last minutes of her old life.
She was going to dedicate herself to the Earth temple in the morning. She would be stuck in Winding Circle forever, bound by her vows.
Niva threw back her sheet and padded over to the window. She pried the latch up and swung the window open. She glanced over her shoulder, back into the dormitory.
Dedicate Silverleaf, the dorm supervisor, was flat on her back, snoring quietly. The poor woman didn't know that sleeping powder had been slipped into her evening tea.
Niva clambered out the window and pulled it shut behind herself. She walked through the grass and turned onto the main temple road.
The night was warm and nearly pitch-black, thanks to a thin, crescent moon. No one else was walking along the road. A few Fire dedicates patrolled the temple wall, but everyone else was abed.
A thin hand reached out of the shadows and snagged Niva's sleeve. She jumped backwards and tripped over the hem of her white robe, landing in the dirt.
"Isas! What are you doing?" she whispered hotly. "You're not supposed to be out here!"
The other novice raised his eyebrows and draped his long arms artistically. "Neither are you. No one except for them," he nodded towards the dedicates on the wall. "Is supposed to be out right now. Especially us, since we're getting- " he paused. "Since we're getting dedicated tomorrow."
Niva snorted. "You still can't get over the idea that you're going to be stuck here for the rest of your life. I'd have thought you'd have accepted it by now."
"Not everyone is as quick to adapt as you are, my dear." He grabbed Niva's arm and hauled her back up. "Is your family here for the dedication?"
"Mmm-hm. My father hired some people to help with the farm and he and my brothers came down to Summersea. That's what he said in his letter, at least. He said they would come to Summersea, then travel here, to the temple, in the morning. Your family?"
Isas smiled cynically. "My father is too busy at the estate in Olart. My mother and sister are here though. I expect I'll see them tomorrow. I can introduce you."
An image of two ladies in ruffled dresses and pearl necklaces with carefully coiffed hair drifted across Niva's thoughts. She shivered. There are more people like him, she thought. "Wonderful. I'd be... charmed." She switched subjects abruptly. "Have you chosen your new name yet?"
Isas sighed. "No, I haven't."
Niva laughed softly. "Neither have I. Come and walk with me. Maybe we can get some ideas." She grasped his arm and pulled him off the path, into the gardens around the cottages and dormitories of the temple.
They slipped between the dark greenery, which was warm and damp in the humid air. Niva pulled Isas though a shadowy grove of gnarly trees and onto a lawn that sprawled around the Water dormitories.
The lawn was smooth, with a few shrubs and bushes.
Isas ducked his head and breathed deeply. He looked up at the back of Niva's head. Her long, auburn hair swung across her shoulders. It looked almost black in the night.
Suddenly, Isas stumbled. His foot hadn't landed on the grass. The young man fell, arms out before him, into a large pool of water. It had appeared smooth, like the grass, in the darkness. Isas pushed himself out of the water. Niva had skipped ahead and she was giggling madly.
Isas frowned at her. "You knew that was there."
"If I did?" Niva grinned.
Isas rolled his eyes, trying to look serious. "May I have a hand up?" He extended his dripping arm towards her. She grasped his hand and pulled, but Isas pulled harder and Niva splashed into the water.
She surfaced a moment later and spat water. "That wasn't fair!"
"Neither was your trick."
Niva sighed and floated on her back. "I suppose. We're even now."
Isas looked at her. Her white novitiate robe swirled around her, drifting in the water. "Your name," he said shortly. "Have you any ideas?"
She turned her head to look at him. "No. I guess I've been hoping that it will just come to me, that Mila and the Green Man will just say 'This is your name.' I suppose I want a plant name. It seems to be traditional to pick a name that associates you with your temple. I mean, look at Moonstream. Streams are part of water. And Silverleaf, well, that's obvious."
Isas shrugged. "There are non-traditional names as well. Gorse and Henna. You can't really guess where they're from. Most people would just think they're from the Earth temple. What about Peachleaf? She's Water temple."
Niva sat up. "I need more inspiration. Let's go somewhere else." She leaned over and kissed Isas' nose gently. "Come along." She pulled him out of the water and she danced across the lawn, with Isas right behind her. She leaped over the stone border of the Water dormitory grounds and paused on the temple road.
"Where do we go now?"
Isas smiled. "I know the most amazing place."
Niva held him back. "Is it very far? We probably shouldn't stay out all night."
"It's by the Air dormitories. So we have a bit of a run ahead of us if we actually want to sleep tonight."
Niva grinned. She grasped her white robe under her arms and whipped it off, over her head.
Isas gasped and looked away. He could hear Niva laughing. "What?" he said, eyes on the ground.
"I've got my underskirts on."
"Oh." Isas blushed and looked up. Niva was rolling her wet robe up, and true to her word, she was wearing a white, sleeveless shirt and several lacy petticoats that clung to her legs.
"It's hard to run in wet skirts, so I figured I might as well take the heaviest skirt off." She tucked her robe under her arm. "Lead on."
Isas turned and started jogging down the path. He had only gone a short ways when Niva loped ahead. Isas ran faster, and soon they were both sprinting down the path.
The gravel crunched under their feet. They raced path cottages and workshops, until Isas stopped before a dark, disused cottage.
Niva skidded to a halt, gasping. "What's this, Isas?"
The cottage was large, with whitewashed walls and a thatched roof. Trees and flowerbeds lined the inside of the white picket fence.
"It's just pretty and. . . it's special and I wanted to show it to you." He eased the latch on the gate up, and slid into the yard.
Niva could feel the plants clamoring for her attention as soon as she stepped over the threshold. She held out her hands and sent a wave of magic through the plants to calm them.
A rosebush tendril kept moving towards her. Niva was about to move it away, when Isas stepped forward. The plant squirmed into his cupped hands. A small rosebud burst into bloom and it gleamed palely in the night.
Isas knows how to grow plants, Niva admitted to herself.
The rose dropped into Isas' hands and the tendril returned to its bush. Isas turned to Niva and slid the rose's stem into her hair.
"It's called a tequila sunrise rose. They grow in Yanjing and Chammur, typically. My father received one from the Empress of Namorn. He gave it to me and I planted it here."
"Why did you plant it at this cottage?" Niva asked.
"My teacher lived here."
Niva nodded. She had known Tigerlily a little, and knew the Dedicate Initiate had been Isas' teacher for most of the novice's training. Tigerlily had died the year after Isas and Niva returned from Lightsbridge. There had been a smallpox epidemic in Summersea and Tigerlily had used too much of her magic trying to heal others.
"No one lives here now," Isas said as he walked up to the cottage's front door. He grasped the door-handle lightly.
Niva ran her fingers along the name over the door. "Discipline. What a wonderful place for a mage to live. Mila, if only everyone could live in discipline."
Isas snorted. "That would be quite the cottage." He looked up the wall. "I wonder who's been taking care of this place. It's been empty for- "
"Nearly three years now," Niva finished. She laid her hand over Isas' hand and opened the door. Musty, herb-scented air washed over them. Niva peered into the darkness. "Isas? Do you know where the altar is? I'd like to light a candle for Tigerlily before we leave. It seems fitting, as if we are visiting her."
Isas stepped into the cottage and walked down the hall. He didn't go very far; instead he turned right into a small room. Niva moved past him and nearly bumped into the altar. She reached down the side of the table for the customary drawer that would hold incense and candles for the altar. Her fingers closed around a matchbox and a long taper. She struck the match up, and gold light flared aroung her fingers.
Isas daintily took the match from Niva and held it under his chin, so his face flickered with shadows.
"It was a dark night," he whispered. "Lightning and rain poured from the skies. In an alleyway in Khapik- ow!" The match burnt his fingers and he dropped it.
Niva giggled and crushed the match under her shoe. She struck another match and lit her taper. She held it over the altar.
The wooden surface was bare and dusty. Isas swept his sleeve across the wood and reached into the drawer for god-figurines and incense.
Niva set her candle in a silver holder on the altar and helped Isas to pull out the supplies. She set the figures of Mila and the Green Man in the left corner with Yanna Healtouch, Lakik, and Shurri Firesword on the right. Isas set Asaia Birdwinged in the center and set a small blue-green bowl at her feet. Mila set another dish before Mila and the Green Man.
"I suppose we ought to honor the others, too," she whispered into the silence.
Isas drew out another bowl and set it before the remaining gods. He pulled a large packet out of the drawer and held the candle over it.
"Rosehip and lilac incense." He poured a small amount into each dish, then put the packet away. Niva set votive candles around the figurines and Isas set a slightly larger candle in the center of the altar.
Niva took the taper from Isas and lit the candles and incense. Rosy smoke and golden light filled the room.
"Mila and Green Man watch over Tigerlily," Niva whispered. "May she be able to grow tomatoes and be happy, wherever she is."
Isas laughed softly. "May she have tomatoes and happiness," he echoed. "So mote it be."
"So mote it be."
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