by J B Drake
A slow smile parted Anise’s lips. “I’m not glad you told me the truth about my exile, Baern, but I am grateful you did. It’s like Mardaley said, now I know where my true loyalties lie.”
“I…”
“See you tonight,” Anise said, then turned and left.
*****
Taking a deep breath, Anise raised a hand and knocked upon the door before her.
“Are you sure about this?” Magister Meadowview asked as he stood behind her.
Anise nodded. “If you do all the talking, they’ll never believe I’m sincere.”
Silence fell upon the pair as they stared at the door. But the silence only served to make the beating of Anise’s heart sound all the louder, and before long, she found herself knocking upon the door once more. Just as she finished, the door swung open, and the face that greeted them was the one she’d hoped for, but now wished was not.
Forcing a smile, Anise nodded. “Hello, Maline.”
Maline stood stoic, all emotion drained from her face as she stared with empty eyes at Anise and only Anise.
“Listen, I…” Anise began, but her words faded. She’d prepared a speech, worked out precisely what she’d say, only now, she couldn’t remember a word of it.
“I, uh…” she began again, trying to remember her words. But her mind was a blank.
In the silence that followed, the stuttering Archmage stared at Maline as her face reddened and her throat tightened.
“I, uh…” she tried once more, and when words failed her a third time, she reached into the bag in her hand and pulled out a neatly folded bundle, one she handed to Maline.
Maline sneered as she stared at the bundle. “What’s that?”
“Bread!” Anise exclaimed, a word that called forth a furious glare from the woman before her.
“No!” Anise added, wincing as she remembered why she’d promised herself to make her speech before giving the bundle.
“It’s not what you think!” she added. “I’m not—”
“What she means is—” Baern said, coming to her aid.
“I’m trying to ask for forgiveness, Maline,” Anise interjected.
“By giving me bread,” Maline spat. “After you said was whoring meself for a bloody loaf!”
“It’s not—” Baern said, trying once more to aid Anise.
“I baked it!” Anise exclaimed. “Day before yesterday. I know that my words earlier were…Bloody hells, I wrote all this down, and now I can’t remember a single word of it! Uhm…”
Silence fell upon the three as Anise fought to remember her speech.
“You know what,” she said at last, grinning. “Sod the speech. Maline, forgive me. What I said earlier, it was cruel. You were angry with me, and you had every right to be. Tip and Marsha are like family to you, and I was a threat to one of your own. I saw that, and believe me, I understood how you felt. But I didn’t care. I saw you as beneath me, and having to explain myself to you was what angered me. I looked down on you, Maline, and tried to hurt you because of it, two very good reasons for you to slam this door in my face.”
As she spoke, the rage behind Maline’s eyes began to abate, and upon seeing that, Anise’s heart swelled.
“But I’m hoping you don’t do that,” she grinned. “Instead, I am hoping you’ll take this peace offering, such as it is—”
“Bread’s peace offering to you, is it?” Maline muttered as she crossed her arms beneath her bosom.
“Ah, it’s not just any old loaf, though,” Anise replied. “I baked this one!”
Maline stared stoic once more, but this time her eyes were upon the offering in Anise’s hand.
“This is my very special creation,” Anise continued. “Marsha’s always bothering me for some, seems Tip can’t get enough of it. And if that isn’t a high commendation of it’s tastiness, I don’t know what is!”
Maline stared at the offering for a spell longer before at last, taking it. As she did, the relief that washed over Anise was indescribable.
Raising it to her nose, Maline smelt the loaf.
“That cinnamon?” she frowned.
Anise nodded. “I know, I know, it may seem a mite odd, but do try it. I came upon this most unusual recipe from this human inn-keeper on one of my travels. I’ve modified it a little since then. It’s now one of my favourite recipes.”
“Smells like you just baked it.”
“It’s the flour” Anise replied. “The name escapes me, but Father used it all the time, and his loaves would last a month with that same fresh-baked smell.”
“A month?” Maline gasped.
Anise nodded, grinning still.
The silence returned as Maline’s eyes went to the prize in her hand.
“So,” Anise said, “am I forgiven?”
Maline cast a critical eye upon Anise.
“You been spending too much time with Marsha, you,” she said at last.
“Oh?”
Maline nodded. “You swearing like her now.”
Anise chuckled. “I suppose I am, yes.”
“Well, you better come in, then,” Maline sighed as she stepped aside, but it was the barest flicker of a smile upon her lips that spoke loudest to Anise, and with a smile of her own, she stepped through the door way.
“One down, one to go,” Baern whispered once they were out of Maline’s hearing.
Grinning, Anise turned to stare at him, but as she did so, a realisation dawned on her that made her stop in her tracks.
“Where’s Tip?” she asked
“Hrm?” Baern said as his eyes went to where Anise’s were, the empty sofa upon which Tip once lay.
“Oh, would you look at that,” Baern said, suppressing a smile. “It would seem Tip’s…vanished.”
“Baern…”
“What?” he asked, fixing Anise with a most innocent stare. “It’s not my house, now, is it?”
Shaking her head, Anise stared past her mentor to the woman coming up behind him.
“Don’t look at me,” she said as she marched past them, “this Mardaley’s place.”
Shaking her head once more, Anise sighed as she followed Maline through the kitchen door. Once through, the scene that greeted her was a familiar one. Mardaley and Marshalla were seated around the kitchen table, with Maline settling into a seat beside Marshalla. Except, this time, they all had plates before them, all piled high with mouth-watering delicacies, the smells of which played havoc with her stomach.
Unfortunately, like the last time, they were staring at her in disgust. Except Maline.
Forcing a smile, Anise nodded at Mardaley and Marshalla both.
“Baern told me you changed your mind,” Mardaley began, breaking the stifling silence.
Anise nodded. “That’s right.”
“He said you’re finally see things our way.”
Anise shrugged. “I owe my being here to him, not the Tower.”
“You wish to know what I said?”
“Mardaley…” Baern warned.
“What did you say?” Anise frowned.
“I told him you’re lying, that you’re a spy for Naeve.”
“Oh, come now, Mard—”
“It’s quite alright, Baern,” Anise interjected, her eyes upon the seated storekeeper. “If I were him I’d be thinking the same thing.”
Then, she took a step forward. “Mardaley Templeton, hear me. My entire life, I’ve spent in debt to my parents. First, for rescuing me from my vile childhood, and then for forcing the Tower to come to my aid.”
“You sound like you bitter.”
Smiling, Anise turned to Maline as she shook her head. “Far from it. I loved that they cared for me so much. When they adopted me, that was the greatest day of my life. But the thing that hurt was I had nothing to repay them with. So, from that day, I did all I could to please them, it was the least I could do.”
As the Archmage shook her head, her smile dissipated. “But I’m not perfect, Maline. I have my flaws, and back
then my greatest flaw was my temper, and it nearly cost them their daughter.”
“Oh,” was all Maline could say.
“Yes,” Anise nodded. “I’m not proud of it, and it was only by a miracle Arenya survived. But even then, they pleaded my case, begged Naeve to let me stay. Only, it was too late, Naeve had to banish me.”
Standing tall, Anise smiled once more. “So when I saw Baern that day, when he told me he’d come to take me home, words can’t describe how grateful I was. Those children I killed, I knew that once word reached the Tower, there’d be no going back for me. But even so I’d harboured thoughts of one day seeing my parents standing before me like they did all those years ago, smiles on their faces, Mother’s arms opened wide, beckoning me. So when Baern showed up, I thought it was them who’d sent Baern. I’d felt sure they’d stood by me, even when I’d become a monster, and I’ve spent every waking moment since living for them. And, when they passed, I swore to spend the rest of my life fighting for the Tower like they did. It was their home and their greatest love.”
“Your parents dead?” Maline asked.
Anise nodded. “A few years now.”
“And now you feel the debt you owed them was a lie,” Mardaley said.
“No,” Anise shook her head as she turned to him. “Not a lie. Just misplaced. They gave up on me. I don’t blame them for it, how can I? But they gave up on me, and Baern didn’t.”
“I see,” Mardaley nodded.
“Give him the rest,” Baern urged once silence returned.
Frowning, Anise turned to face him square.
In response, Baern gestured to the bag in her hand.
“Don’t rush me, Baern, I’m getting there.”
“I’m not rushing, I’m helping.”
“The only person you’re looking to help is you.”
“Now, hold a moment, I—”
“Help with what?” Mardaley interrupted, his confusion mirrored on the faces of the others.
Fixing Baern with one last disapproving frown, Anise turned to the storekeeper as she reached into her bag.
“This is for you,” she said as she pulled free an ancient bottle with a faded label, one filled with a red liquid.
From the longing in Baern’s eyes as he stared transfixed at the bottle, however, one would be forgiven for thinking it was filled with liquid gold.
“What is it?” Mardaley said.
“Wine,” Baern replied before Anise could. “From Elsith’s collection.”
“What?” Mardaley exclaimed as his face lit up.
“Her personal collection, Mardaley.”
Sitting ramrod straight, Mardaley stared at the bottle with the same longing as Baern.
“Which one is it?” he asked at last, his hands seeming to shy away from the proffered bottle.
“I don’t know,” Baern replied. “Anise refused to let me even see it.”
“That’s because I’d never see it again if I did,” Anise quipped as she offered it to Mardaley once more.
“Yes, but which year? What flavour?” he asked as he took the bottle. “How did—”
“I’m the wrong person to ask, Mardaley.” Anise shook her head, “Daniton’s the wine lover. I just grabbed the first bottle I saw.”
“Shall we try it?” Baern asked.
“Oh, yes please!” Mardaley exclaimed.
With a gleeful rub of his hands, Baern hurried to fetch glasses as Mardaley cleared space upon the table for the bottle.
“That was easy, then,” Maline muttered as she gave Anise a knowing nod.
“What?” Mardaley frowned.
“Nothing!” Maline grinned.
“So, we’re all supposed to believe her are we?” Marshalla sneered “Just because she brought a bottle?”
“I believe her,” Anieszirel replied before anyone else could, swimming into view right beside Anise and giving the startled Archmage cause to jump out of her skin.
“Oh, you do enjoy that, don’t you!” Anise growled.
Grinning, Anieszirel turned to Marshalla as she glided towards an empty seat. “You can trust her, Marsha.”
“Because you say so?”
“Because I sense from her the same thing I sensed from her back in Thuridan’s storehouse, when she stood before your prison.”
“And what’s that, then?”
“Shame,” the chronodragon said as she sat. “She wants to help.”
“Well, her shame didn’t stop her from holding me there,” Marshalla shot back. “Why would it make her trustworthy now?”
“Marshalla, she—“ Anieszirel began.
“Allow me,” Anise said, then turned to face the seething girl.
“You know,” Anise smiled, “I wanted to get you something as well…”
Marshalla scoffed at this.
“…but I know you. You’d think I was trying to buy you, and that would make you trust me all the less.”
“Is that so?”
Anise nodded. “It is. But I am sincere, Marsha. You see Tip as your kin, you’d do anything for him, and he for you. Well, I see the Tower and those within it as my kin. I would do anything for them. And you. I saw Anieszirel as a threat to them, Marsha, and I sought to contain that threat. It wasn’t an easy choice, and I pray you never know what it feels like, damning someone so innocent to protect those dearest to your heart.”
Marshalla stared at the standing Archmage in silence for a spell, and as she stared, Anise’s heart began to swell. Perhaps she’d won Marshalla over, perhaps she was now forgiven. It was a thought that warmed her heart greatly, till Marshalla’s face twisted in disgust.
“What utter gobshite,” the young girl seethed, shaking her head as she spoke.
“Marsha…” Baern began.
“It’s okay, Baern,” Maline said, placing a hand upon the young girl’s shoulder. “She just needs time, is all.”
The snarl upon Marshalla’s lips said otherwise, but none spoke.
“Well, if you going to be helping,” Maline continued as she stood, “best get you and Baern plates.”
Smiling, Anise made her way to the nearest empty chair, only for Baern to dart past her and claim it.
“Hey!” she exclaimed.
“Oh, you wanted this seat?” Baern asked, all innocence.
As Anise was about to rebuke the Magister, she realised the seat was also the empty seat closest to Mardaley. And the bottle. So instead, she smiled and shook her head as she made for another seat.
“I can get up if you’d rather, Anise,” Baern hurriedly added, “it’s—”
“No, no, it’s quite alright,” she smiled as she sat.
“Well, then,” Mardaley said. “I suppose we ought to share our plan with you.”
“I uh…may have already done that.” Baern winced.
With a slow turn of his head, Mardaley fixed the elderly mage beside him with a pointed stare as he arched an eyebrow.
“What?”
Sighing, Mardaley shook his head. “Never have I seen you so loose-lipped around anyone before.”
“Oh, come now, Mardaley, she’s harmless. Mostly.”
“Mostly?” Anise repeated.
“Oh, don’t you start, I—”
“Shall we get on with it?” Marshalla interjected, the curtness of her words silencing all within.
“No need to be like that, pet,” Maline said as she placed a plate before Baern.
Marshalla shrugged. “I’m not saying anything. Everyone’s happy Anise isn’t going to stab us in the back today. Yay us! Let’s just get on with why we’re here.”
As silence returned, Anise stared at the seething girl, determined to catch her eye. But Marshalla’s gaze was upon the table and there it remained.
“So, what say you to our plan?” Mardaley said at last, banishing the silence as Maline placed a plate before the Archmage.
Anise moved to speak, but caught herself, and instead turned to Baern, who nodded at her. Nodding herself, she turned to Mardaley.
“I think it carries too great a risk.”
Marshalla scoffed at this, shaking her head as she muttered to herself.
“Marsha, if you can’t contain yourself,” Mardaley said before Anise could draw breath, “I shall have to ask you to wait outside while we talk through this.”
“She’ll behave, Mardaley,” Maline replied as she hurried to her seat beside Marshalla. “Won’t you, pet?”
Marshalla glowered at Mardaley in response, but a gentle nudge from Maline soon chased that away.
“Fine,” she mumbled.
“Good,” Mardaley nodded, then turned to Anise once more. “I take it you’re referring to us sending Marsha and Drake to a place with a heavy Tower presence.”
Anise nodded. “The rumours you’ve started are weak, and your plan leaves us open to Naeve questioning them, and if she does that, everything will unravel around us.”
“What you mean?” Maline frowned.
Anise turned to her. “One of your rumours is that Marsha’s leaving to heal. Fa’aldurn Marsh is a strange place to go for that.”
“Oh, yeah,” Maline added, then turned to Mardaley.
“They’re not going inside the Marsh, Anise,” Mardaley said.
“I know, they’re going to the surrounding towns, learn what they can. But still, that whole area is an odd place for a girl of no known warrior or arcane training to be going to unburden her soul.”
Mardaley took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he stared at Anise. It was clear he couldn’t fault her words.
“Must she go?” Anise asked at last.
“I’m going!” Marshalla barked, rounding on the Archmage. “After all that thing put us through, I’m bloody going! I’m going to be there when we learn how to beat that bloody thing, you hear me? And I’m going to be there when we drag it out of Tip and send it back where it bloody came from!”
“Marsha—” Anieszirel began.
“I’m going, Ani! After all we’ve put up with, I’m going! I am bloody going!”
“We’ve been over this already,” Mardaley said, his temper clearly strained. “I’d rather she go with someone than make her own fool way there.”
“Well, if she’s spotted anywhere near that place, your whole plan unravels,” Anise replied.
“It can’t be helped.”