Now alone again, Litzia and I sank immediately into an awkward silence. Of a surety, there were thoughts, but naught that I had the heart to utter into words.
One part because I was ashamed. It was the effect of a sobering night of rest. And now that the matter had been laid out before me, and I was made to contemplate without the inebriating emotions and exhaustion of yesterday, I was deeply seized with guilt.
Many times I had accused my pledge-sister’s friendship a falsehood. That she treated my Ala-sisters whom she called friends as no more than tolerated enemies. But that could not be. She was not that kind of person. To be sure, I knew little enough of her, but it was gross drivels that would deny her genuine worry for Acis yesterday. And hers was not the face of a careless bystander during Loredan’s hearing. Was that not a forbidden act she had done for Acis’ sake back there?
I was sober now. And my mind was clear. And for which I dared accuse, and dared hurt. But this temerity was not in the same manner as before; spurred on by something else than despair and anger. Or so I would like to believe, that there would be no spite involved in what I was determined to tell her next. But betimes, we must lie to ourselves to do the needful thing.
No sooner than the moment courage was gathered enough, and the body could move against feelings, I stopped abruptly. My hand grabbed hers with what firmness and resolve I could muster.
She looked at me askance. Something very close to uneasiness formed in her eyes.
“Do you not want to see her, Aster?”
“I do, but I don’t want you to,” I said quietly.
It pained me no less to see the change in those eyes. At first, a hurt, perhaps dearer than that which she’d been inflicted yesterday, and then a banish of emotions; and at last, an old mockingness surfaced. “For whose sake,” she asked, “hers or yours?”
I met that hurtful glare squarely. “Acis’. And never mine, you know I shall never deny you for my own sake, Litzia. For I am bound.”
She drew a sharp breath, hissing as though in beastly form, but that was at least genuine emotion, and it thawed my heart. “Think you I would harm her in her weakened state? For what?”
“Aye, I think you may,” I said firmly, “but not willing. You have done that yet again, haven’t you? You did to Loredan, even as you have done to that doomed prisoner from Xenon, or before, in the Leviathan’s dark, when you brought the captain’s might to bear. By which you have done deeds even Rosa Alba could not. You incited Loredan with that mystery your victim pronounced sorcery! But its nature I know not, only that it has the power to do good as much as ill!”
“You presume much,” she turned away.
“I am given to presume. For I could but guess what you would not tell, and those encompass all about you: your name, your past, your deeds, your thoughts, and your feelings! Was I wrong to presume then? Unless you will tell me, of your own accord and not my vain pleading: Can you control this power? Are you certain you will not incite something in Acis’ current unstable state, even as you have broken Loredan’s composure? If indeed you may then no reason shall have I to deter you from coming.”
She sighed. But looking at her steeled visage I knew that my effort had not been able to penetrate her mask. It persevered, as was expected. And she said with a regret that seemed almost real, “It’s not something I can reveal to you, Aster. And yet I understand your concern. I shall retire to our cabin for now, and go you may to Acis, without fear that I may cause her further harm.”
I nodded.
“Tell me of it later,” she said quietly.
I watched as she left, and understood what Thea had felt like when she refused to press me for what Gladiola and I had discussed in private. It hurts to be kept in the dark, surely, but even more painful is the look of a loved one driven to anguish, torn between the necessity of a secret and love.
From now on, I shall abide her secrecy until she’s ready to say more, if ever she will.
With my mind wandering all the way till the white pair’ cabin, I almost stumbled on one unexpected. Radiant even in that narrow space, and whose stature occupied even more, was our Order’s esteemed commandant. Her white gown which swept the floor and the silvery glitters of her staff all lent further effect to the brilliant appearance.
She stood amused, that one great being I had only chanced to speak to in person once before. And she smiled pleasantly at my jumbled apologies.
“The runemaking azure,” she said, “Be not so formal, for I fancy myself a friend with the better half of your Ala.”
“It is an honor, ma’am.”
Between her and the door stood a wyvern, Edelweiss, who was her pair. Always a strange sight of them together without the pledge. For one would think them a grandmother and her youthful progeny. Albeit Edelweiss was one dignified elder, the distinction in appearance was much remarkable. For one does not think often of Rosa Alba’s long years looking at her timeless youth.
The old wyverness’ eyes glinted with a different amusement, as though recalling something of myself. But unlike with her knight, it was my first time facing the elder.
“Your pledge keeps you, child,” the wyverness said, “And your friends. I see you are come to see your ala-sister.”
“Is Acis well?”
“See for yourself. But aye, in most ways, she is. Or rather, no more than she usually be.”
“’Tis Ala Estival’s affair, sister,” said Rosa Alba, “Thus we must needs steer clear of which, and afford them what little space they may require to resolve the problems of youth.”
“You scoff overmuch at young alares’ affairs, sister. It will do you a world of good, for instance, to consider the likes of Galanthus’ perspective, methinks.”
“Mayhap,” the commandant said dismissively, “or mayhap not. Very well, proceed, azure, and mind us not. I do not wish to bore you youngsters with our long broodings.”
“Not all all, ma’ams.”
And so they departed, chatting lightly all the way. I was glad indeed that I did not occupy their attention overlong. I have seen these two in combat, and that was unnerving enough.
I knocked on the cabin of the other pair of white. It was a rare color, to be sure, among wyverns. And if my memory serves right, not once before had I seen one of that color beside Galanthus and Edelweiss. But at the time I thought little of it. Mostly for I was soon greeted with a look of undue annoyance.
“Where be your pledge-sister?” Galanthus asked unceremoniously, “wandering elsewhere again?”
“She’s,” I began, then hesitated, and in the end answered lamely, “she’s not here.”
“Answer properly.”
“Galanthus, come now,” Acis’ voice quietly came from her bed, “’Tis not right to extend your distaste to Aster also.” The knight lay covered under the sheet, propped up on soft pillows. Her face was pale, but there was no trace of the raving from yesterday. As far as I could tell at least, for I did not think it right to stare at her overlong.
Presently, Galanthus moved her chair, low and cushioned, to the bed, kicking away a stool that had been there with unwonted violence. One perhaps was the seat of our Order’s visiting commandant until just now. And mayhap the cause of her annoyance.
I made myself comfortable enough on the hated object. A curious thing, for the armrests were sculpted in the shapes of crowing roosters, and the upholstery entirely made of the same creature’s down. “I did not know you two and Rosa Alba were close fellows,” I said conversationally.
Galanthus did not take it well, in her wonted blunt way. “We are not.”
“What Galanthus said,” Acis shrugged without humor.
“What did she want then?” I asked, for Rosa Alba, though courteous, never struck me as one to visit a comrade she does not know overwell, not for anything less than a grave wound.
“She never wants for aught. And I cannot deny straightway someone who will not profess properly,” Galanthus said.
“Aye,” I said, “Thea said as much, that wise women relish their own mysteriousness.”
I daresay Galanthus was a match, if not greater, mystery, for all that she had a way of being direct. And in the end, I never learned the nature of their visit. Still, it made sense that someone of Galanthus’ temper would be annoyed by the likes of Rosa Alba.
Turning to a topic that should be more to their interest, if one of equal annoyance, I related briefly Loredan’s trial.
Galanthus took rather well the fact Justitia was not in the process of hanging Loredan’s head at the bow.
Acis explained, “It was not her. She spoke true, it was not Loredan who took me.”
“Why not tell Gladiola?” I asked, incredulous. “That could have absolved the need for a trial!”
“I made a promise, but it won’t do for Gladiola to lie to the chief mate for a promise I made.”
“Ah,” I said, connecting the dots, “Loredan spoke of it also: she would not tell of your private meeting, for all that it could have cost her life. Is that the promise – to tell not a soul of what you two were about yesterday?”
“Aye, and keep it I shall.”
Galanthus did not remark on this, I wondered if she was not kept out of this secret also. She did seem the jealous kind. But mayhap she needed not be told what she could already guess.
Still, what secret could be so deep and dark that one would guard it with her own life, and Acis would lie to our Prima for it? As I mused this, I did not forget the reason I was called here.
It was not easy for Acis to begin, though in that state she seemed struggling even to breathe. Yet even more than physical exertion, her head furrowed, and she took time to deliberate it, as though doubting her own thoughts.
At length, she said, “I do know something of the culprit, Aster.”
“And you haven’t told Gladiola about it?”
The knight shook her head. “It is a riddle, one that not even Gladiola may solve. Not even I.”
“You yourself don’t know? Then whence came that riddle? I trust you do not think I alone can answer that riddle?”
“You ask too much,” Galanthus interrupted crudely. There was a flush on the demure wyverness’ mien that signified a much worked-up temper. I had never seen her thus agitated before. And only since coming to Tithonus that these outbursts had become so frequent. The reason I now knew somewhat.
Acis shook her head. “She saw it, dear. And I do not mind that she should know a little of it.—” The sickly girl drew herself up a little, insofar as the puffed pillows allowed, “You saw how I was yesterday, eh? What did you think that was about?”
“A spell, it seemed, or a curse,” I said automatically.
Galanthus winced.
Without giving faith to either, Acis said evenly, though haltingly, “That was not me, but something else. Possession, if you may. And yet it is not something I could explain in a few words. Suffice to say that the person you stumbled upon yesterday, the first one, at the ancient cistern, was not I. Now she’s gone, with her is the answer to this riddle. Her, and Wisteria Loredan, if my guess is true. It is that person’s will too, I think, that you are most apt to entrust the task of delivering Loredan this riddle.”
“Me?” That was doubtful, for the girl that I first encountered at the cistern, as Acis put it, did not seem to recognize me, let alone find me fit for an important mission.
“Aye, you. And no one else. Do not ask me why, for there is no obvious answer to it, naught more than the riddle itself. Will you honor my request, Ala-sister?”
The matter was laced with layers of mystery. And I had great doubt of the many things Acis was refusing to tell. And yet I was her Ala-sister, and some things are not right to deny a friend. So in the end, I acceded. And all the while I marked Galathus’ digits clawing, crumbling the hem of her dress, as though racked with guilt.
“I am grateful, Aster. So go to Wisteria Loredan, and tell her this: ‘She comes from the painting.’”
Now alone again, Litzia and I sank immediately into an awkward silence. Of a surety, there were thoughts, but naught that I had the heart to utter into words.
One part because I was ashamed. It was the effect of a sobering night of rest. And now that the matter had been laid out before me, and I was made to contemplate without the inebriating emotions and exhaustion of yesterday, I was deeply seized with guilt.
Many times I had accused my pledge-sister’s friendship a falsehood. That she treated my Ala-sisters whom she called friends as no more than tolerated enemies. But that could not be. She was not that kind of person. To be sure, I knew little enough of her, but it was gross drivels that would deny her genuine worry for Acis yesterday. And hers was not the face of a careless bystander during Loredan’s hearing. Was that not a forbidden act she had done for Acis’ sake back there?
I was sober now. And my mind was clear. And for which I dared accuse, and dared hurt. But this temerity was not in the same manner as before; spurred on by something else than despair and anger. Or so I would like to believe, that there would be no spite involved in what I was determined to tell her next. But betimes, we must lie to ourselves to do the needful thing.
No sooner than the moment courage was gathered enough, and the body could move against feelings, I stopped abruptly. My hand grabbed hers with what firmness and resolve I could muster.
She looked at me askance. Something very close to uneasiness formed in her eyes.
“Do you not want to see her, Aster?”
“I do, but I don’t want you to,” I said quietly.
It pained me no less to see the change in those eyes. At first, a hurt, perhaps dearer than that which she’d been inflicted yesterday, and then a banish of emotions; and at last, an old mockingness surfaced. “For whose sake,” she asked, “hers or yours?”
I met that hurtful glare squarely. “Acis’. And never mine, you know I shall never deny you for my own sake, Litzia. For I am bound.”
She drew a sharp breath, hissing as though in beastly form, but that was at least genuine emotion, and it thawed my heart. “Think you I would harm her in her weakened state? For what?”
“Aye, I think you may,” I said firmly, “but not willing. You have done that yet again, haven’t you? You did to Loredan, even as you have done to that doomed prisoner from Xenon, or before, in the Leviathan’s dark, when you brought the captain’s might to bear. By which you have done deeds even Rosa Alba could not. You incited Loredan with that mystery your victim pronounced sorcery! But its nature I know not, only that it has the power to do good as much as ill!”
“You presume much,” she turned away.
“I am given to presume. For I could but guess what you would not tell, and those encompass all about you: your name, your past, your deeds, your thoughts, and your feelings! Was I wrong to presume then? Unless you will tell me, of your own accord and not my vain pleading: Can you control this power? Are you certain you will not incite something in Acis’ current unstable state, even as you have broken Loredan’s composure? If indeed you may then no reason shall have I to deter you from coming.”
She sighed. But looking at her steeled visage I knew that my effort had not been able to penetrate her mask. It persevered, as was expected. And she said with a regret that seemed almost real, “It’s not something I can reveal to you, Aster. And yet I understand your concern. I shall retire to our cabin for now, and go you may to Acis, without fear that I may cause her further harm.”
I nodded.
“Tell me of it later,” she said quietly.
I watched as she left, and understood what Thea had felt like when she refused to press me for what Gladiola and I had discussed in private. It hurts to be kept in the dark, surely, but even more painful is the look of a loved one driven to anguish, torn between the necessity of a secret and love.
From now on, I shall abide her secrecy until she’s ready to say more, if ever she will.
With my mind wandering all the way till the white pair’ cabin, I almost stumbled on one unexpected. Radiant even in that narrow space, and whose stature occupied even more, was our Order’s esteemed commandant. Her white gown which swept the floor and the silvery glitters of her staff all lent further effect to the brilliant appearance.
She stood amused, that one great being I had only chanced to speak to in person once before. And she smiled pleasantly at my jumbled apologies.
“The runemaking azure,” she said, “Be not so formal, for I fancy myself a friend with the better half of your Ala.”
“It is an honor, ma’am.”
Between her and the door stood a wyvern, Edelweiss, who was her pair. Always a strange sight of them together without the pledge. For one would think them a grandmother and her youthful progeny. Albeit Edelweiss was one dignified elder, the distinction in appearance was much remarkable. For one does not think often of Rosa Alba’s long years looking at her timeless youth.
The old wyverness’ eyes glinted with a different amusement, as though recalling something of myself. But unlike with her knight, it was my first time facing the elder.
“Your pledge keeps you, child,” the wyverness said, “And your friends. I see you are come to see your ala-sister.”
“Is Acis well?”
“See for yourself. But aye, in most ways, she is. Or rather, no more than she usually be.”
“’Tis Ala Estival’s affair, sister,” said Rosa Alba, “Thus we must needs steer clear of which, and afford them what little space they may require to resolve the problems of youth.”
“You scoff overmuch at young alares’ affairs, sister. It will do you a world of good, for instance, to consider the likes of Galanthus’ perspective, methinks.”
“Mayhap,” the commandant said dismissively, “or mayhap not. Very well, proceed, azure, and mind us not. I do not wish to bore you youngsters with our long broodings.”
“Not all all, ma’ams.”
And so they departed, chatting lightly all the way. I was glad indeed that I did not occupy their attention overlong. I have seen these two in combat, and that was unnerving enough.
I knocked on the cabin of the other pair of white. It was a rare color, to be sure, among wyverns. And if my memory serves right, not once before had I seen one of that color beside Galanthus and Edelweiss. But at the time I thought little of it. Mostly for I was soon greeted with a look of undue annoyance.
“Where be your pledge-sister?” Galanthus asked unceremoniously, “wandering elsewhere again?”
“She’s,” I began, then hesitated, and in the end answered lamely, “she’s not here.”
“Answer properly.”
“Galanthus, come now,” Acis’ voice quietly came from her bed, “’Tis not right to extend your distaste to Aster also.” The knight lay covered under the sheet, propped up on soft pillows. Her face was pale, but there was no trace of the raving from yesterday. As far as I could tell at least, for I did not think it right to stare at her overlong.
Presently, Galanthus moved her chair, low and cushioned, to the bed, kicking away a stool that had been there with unwonted violence. One perhaps was the seat of our Order’s visiting commandant until just now. And mayhap the cause of her annoyance.
I made myself comfortable enough on the hated object. A curious thing, for the armrests were sculpted in the shapes of crowing roosters, and the upholstery entirely made of the same creature’s down. “I did not know you two and Rosa Alba were close fellows,” I said conversationally.
Galanthus did not take it well, in her wonted blunt way. “We are not.”
“What Galanthus said,” Acis shrugged without humor.
“What did she want then?” I asked, for Rosa Alba, though courteous, never struck me as one to visit a comrade she does not know overwell, not for anything less than a grave wound.
“She never wants for aught. And I cannot deny straightway someone who will not profess properly,” Galanthus said.
“Aye,” I said, “Thea said as much, that wise women relish their own mysteriousness.”
I daresay Galanthus was a match, if not greater, mystery, for all that she had a way of being direct. And in the end, I never learned the nature of their visit. Still, it made sense that someone of Galanthus’ temper would be annoyed by the likes of Rosa Alba.
Turning to a topic that should be more to their interest, if one of equal annoyance, I related briefly Loredan’s trial.
Galanthus took rather well the fact Justitia was not in the process of hanging Loredan’s head at the bow.
Acis explained, “It was not her. She spoke true, it was not Loredan who took me.”
“Why not tell Gladiola?” I asked, incredulous. “That could have absolved the need for a trial!”
“I made a promise, but it won’t do for Gladiola to lie to the chief mate for a promise I made.”
“Ah,” I said, connecting the dots, “Loredan spoke of it also: she would not tell of your private meeting, for all that it could have cost her life. Is that the promise – to tell not a soul of what you two were about yesterday?”
“Aye, and keep it I shall.”
Galanthus did not remark on this, I wondered if she was not kept out of this secret also. She did seem the jealous kind. But mayhap she needed not be told what she could already guess.
Still, what secret could be so deep and dark that one would guard it with her own life, and Acis would lie to our Prima for it? As I mused this, I did not forget the reason I was called here.
It was not easy for Acis to begin, though in that state she seemed struggling even to breathe. Yet even more than physical exertion, her head furrowed, and she took time to deliberate it, as though doubting her own thoughts.
At length, she said, “I do know something of the culprit, Aster.”
“And you haven’t told Gladiola about it?”
The knight shook her head. “It is a riddle, one that not even Gladiola may solve. Not even I.”
“You yourself don’t know? Then whence came that riddle? I trust you do not think I alone can answer that riddle?”
“You ask too much,” Galanthus interrupted crudely. There was a flush on the demure wyverness’ mien that signified a much worked-up temper. I had never seen her thus agitated before. And only since coming to Tithonus that these outbursts had become so frequent. The reason I now knew somewhat.
Acis shook her head. “She saw it, dear. And I do not mind that she should know a little of it.—” The sickly girl drew herself up a little, insofar as the puffed pillows allowed, “You saw how I was yesterday, eh? What did you think that was about?”
“A spell, it seemed, or a curse,” I said automatically.
Galanthus winced.
Without giving faith to either, Acis said evenly, though haltingly, “That was not me, but something else. Possession, if you may. And yet it is not something I could explain in a few words. Suffice to say that the person you stumbled upon yesterday, the first one, at the ancient cistern, was not I. Now she’s gone, with her is the answer to this riddle. Her, and Wisteria Loredan, if my guess is true. It is that person’s will too, I think, that you are most apt to entrust the task of delivering Loredan this riddle.”
“Me?” That was doubtful, for the girl that I first encountered at the cistern, as Acis put it, did not seem to recognize me, let alone find me fit for an important mission.
“Aye, you. And no one else. Do not ask me why, for there is no obvious answer to it, naught more than the riddle itself. Will you honor my request, Ala-sister?”
The matter was laced with layers of mystery. And I had great doubt of the many things Acis was refusing to tell. And yet I was her Ala-sister, and some things are not right to deny a friend. So in the end, I acceded. And all the while I marked Galathus’ digits clawing, crumbling the hem of her dress, as though racked with guilt.
“I am grateful, Aster. So go to Wisteria Loredan, and tell her this: ‘She comes from the painting.’”
