Tessili Rogue

by Robin Stephen

  Elle froze in the act of pressing down some curd. The cheesery smelled of fresh milk and clover. It was a bright winter day, with brilliant sunlight falling in through the windows.

  Elle looked pale and scared as she turned her large eyes to meet Jey’s. She sounded tired and defeated when she said in a wan tone, “I never thought of that.”

  Jey frowned down at her cheese mold, feeling the scratchiness of her eyes. Phril had settled somewhat, but his desire to fly was a constant undercurrent in her thoughts – an itch she could not scratch.

  They were silent for a moment. Outside, birds called in the clear sky. One of the dairy’s goats bleated – a hungry sound. Elle dropped her voice to an even lower register and said, “How close are we, Jey? With what I collected last night?”

  Jey shaped the soft, cool curds, calculating. “Close,” she said. “We have enough seeds now. We need more cash.”

  There was a bang as the cheesery door swung open, making them both jump. Holdam shouldered his way into the room. The stocky, gray haired man stumped across the room carrying a bucket of fresh milk. He nodded a greeting at the girls, humming as he headed for the vats in the adjoining chamber. Jey nodded back, thoughts still on her conversation with Elle.

  The frustrating thing was they were so close. They had a plan – a plan that should let them leave the academy behind for now, to live in peace. They needed to recover and grow and learn about this world they now had to live in.

  But they weren’t quite ready. As Holdam disappeared through the doorway she said to Elle, “The land grant hasn’t been approved yet, either. We need our affirmation. ”

  Elle set a full mold aside, pausing to stretch her back. “More money should be easy enough to come by,” she said. “And I’ll persuade Holdam to draw up the document we need from him. Then we can go.” She paused, meeting Jey’s gaze and holding it for a beat.

  Jey said, “And, if Lokim is not our friend, we’ll need to find a way to get him off our tail.”

  Jey saw something flicker through Elle’s eyes, a flutter of the deep fatigue Jey battled every day. They had been working towards their goal for months, making incremental progress each day. “Do you think they’ll find us first?” Elle asked.

  Jey turned to look out at the frozen yard. The fatigue seemed to grow for a moment, exerting a strange pressure on her heart. “I think it’s only a matter of time. It’s just a question of who is faster.”

  ◈

  They met Lokim again that night. They’d decided the safest place for a rendezvous was in their own chamber. It would be easy enough to hide Lokim if Biala came inquiring after their light, and Jey and Elle would have the advantage of being near all their weapons.

  The girls retired early, earning a knowing smile from Biala when they begged fatigue as a reason to slip off to bed. They’d reached their chamber and settled down to wait, Jey perched on the wooden chair at the desk, Elle seated on the foot of her narrow bed. Phril and Shai, finally free of the directive not to fly, shot into the air and chased each other in circles around the small room.

  As it was winter, the sun was already down. Elle and Jey waited in the light of their small flame. A litany of all the things she needed to guard against played on repeat in Jey’s head. She was too tired, though, to be truly afraid. It was funny, she thought, how danger itself became less alarming after a while.

  He didn’t knock this time. The door opened and closed in one smooth movement. Jey, who had her knives set within easy reach on the table, sat up a little straighter.

  He appeared within the door, as tall and straight as before. His tessila shot from his collar to join Phril and Shai in their happy flight. Jey could smell the man. He gave off a scent of wood smoke and earth. She resisted the urge to pick up her knives; she could tell he was going out of his way to appear non-threatening.

  He nodded to the leaping flame in the dish of oil. “Perhaps it might be prudent to cast a passive barrier spell, to contain the light and the sound of our voices?”

  Jey felt her discomfort increase. She glanced at the dish, as if considering his words. Elle, however, sat forward, leaning towards the man with a look of surprise. “Passive barrier?” Her long braid was a dark, smooth rope over one shoulder. “We never learned that one.”

  A flicker of surprise passed over Lokim’s face, barely there before it was gone. Jey let out a silent sigh. In spite of their years in the academy, Elle was proving a little too quick to trust people.

  Lokim said, “Allow me.” He stood a little straighter. He did not otherwise move, but Jey felt the tug and dip of the spell as he wove and released. She had an instant to wonder if this would be the moment of betrayal. But it passed. The atmosphere in the room returned to normal, except Jey could feel a mild sheen of magic that remained in place around them like an invisible dome.

  “Thank you,” Elle said. Lokim settled down cross-legged on the floor. Broad back leaning against the stone wall, he broadcasted the air of someone who intended to stay. He had dark hair, a firm jaw and round, mild eyes. His face was nothing like the smooth-cheeked orderlies, the angry Nylan, or even the sophisticated, reserved Liam. This man was something else.

  Jey’s fatigue now warred with her curiosity, but she tried to keep her tone disinterested. “Where did you come from?” she said.

  He didn’t answer immediately. Phril, Shai, and the man’s tessila were still darting about the room in some sort of complex pattern. Phril alighted on the windowsill. He sat for an instant, wings flared, neck arched, red scales gleaming in the wan light.

  Lokim’s eyes went to the tessila. “He’s magnificent,” he said. “I don’t recognize his characteristics. What’s his lineage?”

  For the second time in only a few moments, Jey felt discomfited. Shai swooped towards Phril and the red tessila took to the air again. Jey watched the three diminutive animals dart about the room, feeling a tug-of-war taking place inside her. She wished she could trust this man without reservation, to accept the friendship he seemed to offer.

  But she couldn’t. She reminded herself what was at stake. If the academy had half a chance, they’d do to Jey and Elle what they’d done to Kae. That night still haunted Jey’s nightmares – the night her friend had died.

  Jey sat up a little straighter. “I’m afraid I don’t know his lineage.” She turned from the tessila back to Lokim. “We actually know next to nothing about our tessili. We were taken to the academy as girls, where tessili and brillbane are everywhere. It wasn’t until we escaped we realized they are so rare out here.”

  Lokim’s face darkened. His eyes were colorless in the darkness, his jaw shadowy with stubble. His hands, set on his knees, were rough and square. There was a ready tension in his body, and his muscles were firm from use. “They didn’t used to be rare.” The words came out in a low tone, heavy with sadness.

  Elle sat forward further so she was perched on the edge of the bed. “What happened?”

  The young man looked up. His eyes met Elle’s and held for what seemed to Jey a long time. “The Betrayal,” he said at last. “The people of Masidon turned against the Tessilari after we all stood together through the War of the Diods. Our numbers were reduced with the fighting, our strongest mages weakened or killed. We gave our best and our strongest to keep this land safe. Then the people turned against us. Tessili were hunted, brillbane was uprooted and burned. Tessilari were hunted down and murdered.”

  Elle’s eyes had widened at Lokim’s words. “Why?” she said. “Why would they attack their allies after a war was won?”

  Lokim’s firm mouth turned down at the edges. He dropped his gaze to the floor. “Fear,” he said. “When the diods appeared, the people of Masidon welcomed them. But the diods were brutal, their magics violent and destructive. It nearly destroyed the Tessilari to destroy them. After that, some people became convinced all magic was evil. Most particularly, the church. The high priest declared humans who could wield magics were an affront to the gods.”


  Jey shifted in her seat, thinking of the hours she and Elle had wasted hunting for brillbane that wasn’t there. She repeated her initial question. “Then where do you come from?”

  Lokim turned his sharp gaze on her. “The vast majority of our people died in the Betrayal, but a small band of refugees escaped. We’ve lived apart ever since, confined to one hidden valley. We thought we were the last of the Tessilari, that the tessili we saved were the only ones.”

  As he spoke, Phril came to perch on Jey’s shoulder. She could feel his excitement, his pleasure with the flight, his curiosity about the orange tessila who had a bond with Lokim.

  Lokim watched Phril for a moment, then glanced around the room as if looking for something. “How are you keeping them fed?” But before either of them could answer, his eyes widened with understanding. “That’s why you keep going back over the wall.”

  Jey lifted one hand to Phril. He stepped onto her fingers. She held him before her so she could run one finger under his chin, noting his dull scales and thin sides. “It’s the only place we know to get brillbane.”

  Lokim sat very still for a moment. His face was immobile, his eyes flat, but Jey perceived he was coming to a decision.

  At last, he closed his eyes. He held them closed for what seemed a long time. “I jeopardize my people by showing this to you,” he said. Then he let out a small, sad laugh. “But then, I jeopardized my people when I left the valley.”

  He moved, reaching inside the neck of his shirt. A silver chain glittered in the yellow light. He drew out a thin wire ring and held it up in the air before him. His tessila, with a glad little cry, turned on the air. With a dip of her wings, she banked, beat twice, and shot straight through the ring.

  She did not come out the other side.

  Jey blinked, staring at the plain ring. Her feeling was one of mild puzzlement until Phril, with a sudden surge of excitement so intense it was a sharp pain in Jey’s mind, leapt off her hand and beat towards the ring as well.

  Jey felt her heart go still. The moment seemed to extend as if time had slowed. Jey reached after the tessila, as if she could snatch him from the air.

  Lokim saw the tessila coming, but he did not lower the ring. He continued to hold it up.

  Phil darted through its center and disappeared.

  ◈

  Lokim hadn’t planned for it to happen. He hadn’t planned on revealing any secrets tonight. Even before Jey asked about how he fed his tessila and kept her happy, he’d said too much. Now he’d gone ahead and shown them his stitchring, and Jey’s tessila had followed Bliz through.

  Elle was the problem. After so many months watching her from a distance, being near her was like a drug. Every time he looked over and saw her looking at him with those bright eyes, his brain seemed to fizz. He would lose track of his train of thought, or say something he’d meant to hold back. It was even more intoxicating that Elle seemed to trust him already, in a way Jey did not. He could see the little flickers of displeasure in Jey’s face every time Elle said something that revealed more of their situation.

  Now, unsurprisingly, Elle’s tessila wheeled on the air, realizing he’d been left alone. It was clear from the girls’ faces they didn’t know what a stitchring was. Jey had gone pale and had risen out of her chair, hands moving to take up her knives. “Lower the ring,” she said.

  Lokim looked at Elle. He knew her tessila was purple, but the dim light leeched the color from the room.

  He didn’t lower the ring.

  Elle’s tessila turned and poured on speed, black eyes intense. Jey moved forward, her stance threatening, but Lokim was not afraid.

  It took a fraction of an instant for Elle’s tessila to dart across the room and dive through the ring, following the other two. Lokim felt the drag on his reserves as the spell activated for the third time in quick succession. Fatigue seemed to crush him. The stitchring cost him a good deal.

  His vision went a little dark around the edges. He was aware both Jey and Elle were now staring at him in mute horror. He was aware he needed to explain, to reassure them. He should have done that first.

  But for a moment, he was too tired to speak. Then he felt Bliz’s delight at not only settling onto her brillbane bush, but having company. In spite of the fact they were now very far apart, geographically, the stitchring allowed him to feel as if she was only on the other side of the room.

  Lokim lowered the ring so it hung outside his shirt, glinting in the dancing light. Both the girls had been made into statues by the shock. He said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. Elle, if I’d tried to keep your tessila from following the others he’d have gone frantic with frustration.”

  Elle’s fine chin dipped in the barest hint of a nod. But she was never the one he was going to have trouble convincing. He closed his eyes for a moment, preparing to face Jey. In truth, this was the greatest help he could offer them at the moment. Their tessili were alive, but the more he’d seen of them the more he’d noticed the brittle edge to their movements, the frantic tension in their eyes. If the girls only stole brillbane seeds from behind the wall, it must have been six months since either of their tessila had had a proper rest.

  “It’s a stitchring,” he said. “It connects two places. This one allows Bliz to visit her brillbane bush in a greenhouse in the valley where my people live. She can feed and rest and polish her scales.”

  Elle’s face creased with concern. She’d evidently noticed the strain on his face. He avoided looking at her, but the desire to do so was there, an electric undercurrent beneath his fatigue.

  He looked at Jey. She’d set her knives back down and was staring at the ring with an intense expression. She had to be getting feedback from her tessila by now. She had to know he was unharmed. The tessila himself would present a more persuasive argument than Lokim could.

  Lokim stretched his back and settled more comfortably against the wall. He said, “They’ll come back when they’re ready. In the meantime, we may as well talk.”

  ◈

  As much as Jey might try to deny it, the change in Phril when he emerged from the thing Lokim called a stitchring the next morning was undeniable.

  The humans had called it a night long before. Lokim had made his bed on the floor using Jey’s cloak as a cushion, Elle’s as a pillow, and his own as a blanket. Jey and Elle had gone to their beds. Jey had blown out the flame and the three of them had occupied the silent darkness. Jey had been unable to relax for fear of Lokim leaving and taking the stitchring with him.

  Before they’d gone to sleep, they’d talked. They’d talked and talked. During their conversation, Jey had slowly lost the battle of keeping secrets, of holding back, of being selective about how they revealed their weaknesses. The problem, she reflected, was how badly she wanted an ally. To simply be able to talk to someone about the predicament she and Elle found themselves in was a scale of relief so profound it made her giddy.

  In the end, Jey lay in the dark with her head spinning, then dozed off without meaning to. When she woke, the pale light of dawn was spilling in through the window. Lokim was asleep, a dark form under his cloak. Elle was also asleep, curled under her gray blanket.

  The tessili hadn’t reappeared. They didn’t do so until the last minute, when Jey was starting to feel frantic about the need to go to the cheesery and start their day’s work. She and Elle, having never undressed the night before due to Lokim’s presence, had tidied themselves as best they could. Although Lokim had discreetly not watched, Jey had felt self-conscious, nonetheless, as she’d brushed out her hair and tied it back in its ponytail.

  When Phril, Shai, and Bliz had returned at last, they’d done so in a brilliant cluster, bursting out of the ring to soar about the room. Phril was transformed. His scales were bright, his sides were not as hollow as they had been. More importantly, that frantic edge was gone from his mind. His thoughts were settled and mellow, like they’d used to be.

  Jey hadn’t realized how much Phril’s distress had be
en affecting her. Now, as he came to her, she could feel his satisfaction as she noted the brightness of his red hide. He landed on her outstretched hand and strutted a little. It broke her heart that he’d been brought so low.

  Lokim rose, smiling as his slim orange tessila, Bliz, flew to him. Shai looked rested and content as well. For a moment, Jey felt almost happy.

  Then they heard the sound of Holdam breaking the ice on the water trough across the yard. Jey felt her smile fade.

  Lokim was looking at Elle as he tucked the ring back inside his shirt. “When can I see you again?” He spoke in a whisper, with an intensity that made the dormant unease stir in Jey’s heart.

  Elle was blushing, her eyes downcast. She did not consult Jey before saying, “Will you come back tonight?”

  Lokim’s answer was a quick nod. Then he cast a passive echo spell. His body shimmered on the air, disappearing. Bliz took a moment longer to fade as she wheeled up to land and tuck her brilliant body beneath his collar.

  A moment later, the door opened, then closed.

  He was gone.

  Elle let out a sigh and sank down to sit on her bed again. Her dress, usually tidy, had a rumpled look. Jey looked at her friend in consternation. “Tonight?” she said. Her eyes were scratchy with fatigue. “When are we going to sleep?”

  Elle was still looking at the floor. She shrugged, as if her thoughts were far away. Shai was preening himself on her shoulder, radiating well-rested satisfaction. “It’s the best thing for Phril and Shai.” She spoke in a quiet tone, but her cheeks were still flushed red.

  Jey looked at her friend, the uneasy feeling growing. It occurred to her for the first time that she and Elle were together now because they always had been. Almost all of Jey’s memories, patchy as they were, included Elle and Kae. The three girls had come to the academy the same year, learned at the same rate. They’d slept in the same room, attended many of the same classes, and spent all their leisure time together. They’d had no choice.