by Liv Savell
⥣ ⥣ ⥣
* * *
The cackling of Sylvie’s harsh chicken voice jerked Alphonse from sleep. Even in her coop across the garden, when Sylvie had enough, she’d let you know, and clearly, the healer had slept too late. The sun was up, so were the hens. She sighed unhappily and flopped back down into their bed. On the mornings after Delyth’s return, it was near torture to try and pry herself from their cocoon of warmth and tangled limbs.
Alphonse rolled onto her side to peer at Delyth, where the winged woman still slept. She deserved a rest. She had flown far and fast to get back from her errand for Enyo. In sleep, Delyth’s face was devoid of all the careful stoic shielding. Her mask of impenetrable stone lifted, revealing the most beautiful creature Alphonse had ever seen. Her sharp cheeks, her supple lips. The way Delyth’s dark hair contrasted with her ivory skin, tanned by days of flying in the sunlight.
Delyth opened her eyes at that moment, catching Alphonse staring. The healer blushed and wriggled closer to her paramour, burying her face against pert breasts. She had said it a hundred times last night, and she would say it a hundred more today. “I love you. I missed you.”
Sylvie screeched from her coop, and Alphonse ignored the biddy. She could wait a few more Gods-blessed minutes!
“I love you. I missed you too.” Delyth yawned and stretched, pulling Alphonse closer in the same movement. “You should tell Sylvie that there are strict rules about yelling for food on the mornings after I get home.”
The healer chuckled and allowed herself a few more precious seconds nuzzled against her lover. And then Ines joined Sylvie in complaining, their squawks echoing through the open window. In the night, the breeze had been lovely, but now Alphonse was regretting leaving it ajar. Groaning, she bit Delyth’s breast affectionately and sat up. Her tawny locks tumbled over her shoulders as she looked for a robe to dart out into the garden and release the hens.
Then she could climb back into bed with Delyth, and maybe they’d not leave bed all day.
“Sylvie is an exacting lady. She doesn’t appreciate us upsetting her delicate schedule simply because we want to romp.” Alphonse smirked and stood, wrapping her robe about her naked form. Turning, she bent to kiss Delyth on the lips, smiling. “Tea?”
“I’ll get it started while you see to the chickens.”
The healer rounded on her lover and pressed a small yet firm hand against Delyth’s shoulder as the warrior tried to rise. “You shall not,” she sniffed, pulling her robe closer, affronted. “I will make the tea. You will stay here. In bed. You flew all day yesterday, and you deserve to rest.”
Every time she came back, the warrior insisted on helping with chores, though she needed rest. Besides, Alphonse enjoyed doting on the warrior even if Delyth wasn’t precisely the type to be waited on. It was important to make sure that the warrior knew how precious she was. How loved. How cherished.
Alphonse knew that Delyth would serve Enyo for the rest of her life because of the healer, and she didn’t take that lightly nor for granted. It was often dangerous, brutal, taxing work. The healer never once wanted to seem ungrateful.
༄
Delyth put a hand over Alphonse’s, securing her. “But, annwyl, if I make the tea, then you’ll be back here all the sooner.”
She turned her head to kiss one of Alphonse’s fingertips. She knew from past arguments why it meant so much to the healer that she be taken care of at home. But, despite the cost serving Enyo often exacted, she did not feel as though Alphonse needed to try and make up for it. Delyth would kneel beneath the weight of that oath again today for this. Besides, it felt nice to help with small things. Normal. As though Enyo were not still capable of showing up at any time to demand that Delyth leave.
Alphonse’s gaze drifted to Delyth’s lips as they pressed against her fingers, her pretty honey eyes wide and thick-pupilled. She smiled and tugged her fingers away. “You are a terrible tease. I don’t know how a girl is supposed to keep her wits about herself with you around.”
Delyth laughed. “Well then, I suppose you’ll just have to hurry back to me.”
She slid to the edge of the bed and stood, leaning down to press a kiss to Alphonse’s cheek before stepping over to their dresser to hunt for a pair of the soft, linen pants she’d gotten from the village below. The sounds of angry chickens came again through the window, and Delyth turned to grin at the healer. “You’re being summoned.”
Tawny hair flashed in the early morning rays as Alphonse turned and hurried from the room. Delyth could hear her from the yard, muttering to the chickens. There was a flapping of wings as, presumably, Sylvie and Ines hurried from the coop. Then the sound of Alphonse scattering feed along the garden path, prattling away at her birds. “I was having a lovely morning, and you ladies just couldn’t let me keep it.”
Delyth adjusted the shawl draped over her chest as she heated water for tea, listening to the vague, indistinct murmurs of Alphonse, the chickens, and the sway of wind through the firs around their cottage. It left a smile on the warrior’s face, relaxed and open within the home in a way she had never found in any other place.
There was a warmth here that sustained her even on the worst of Enyo’s errands. Simple and beautiful. Something that had much more to do with Alphonse than the place. Delyth was more at peace now, farther from the anger that had driven her to the edge of madness in those first moons of service to Enyo. She touched the twin dragon scales hanging in the kitchen window to catch the light outside. But there was still more of the world she would like to see with the healer.
By the time Alphonse had finished with her morning chores, the tea was steeping, its herbal aroma filling the small main room of the cottage in sweet tendrils, and Delyth stood, sipping her cup before the front windows, looking down the path towards the village below. It was quiet and empty. Not many knew of their cottage in the woods, half an hour’s walk from the nearest settlement. Close enough for Alphonse to tend to any travelers or villagers who fell ill, but far enough away for the privacy both she and Delyth loved.
“Daydreaming?” Alphonse came to stand beside Delyth and tilting her head to rest against Delyth’s shoulder, a delicate hand tracing a line up and down Delyth’s spine. “I do that too, sometimes. I think of Etienne or the coast, or what I’ll make for supper.”
“Would you like to visit the coast?” Delyth hooked an arm around Alphonse’s waist and took a sip of hot tea. “I was just in Aberdwyr for this errand, and I came across a Cabot man similar to the one you healed the first time you had to work completely alone.”
“Brande? Really? Did you speak with him?” The healer turned towards their small sitting area and motioned for Delyth to sit in her favorite low backed armchair so that Alphonse could sit in her paramour’s lap.
“Yes. He was a young man who worked on a ship that had just brought in several barrels of a rare wine, the object of my search, and helped me find the merchant who had bought them. In all the bustle of the port, I think my trip would have taken much longer without his aid.” Delyth’s tea lay forgotten half-finished on the little table in the center of their sitting area, her fingers idly combing through Alphonse’s hair while they talked. “On the way back, it got me thinking about all those plans we made in the cave about Dailion…”
They didn’t often speak of the time when Enyo had coiled in Alphonse’s chest, but those stolen moments in the cave were still a happy memory for Delyth.
“Do you want to go? I would like to meet Brande if we can, and others like me. We could see Etienne, and you could get out of the cottage for a bit if you wanted to. It's perfect here, but it’s been a year since you’ve left.”
Alphonse leaned back against Delyth in quiet consideration as she thought about the possibilities. The few little trips they had taken had always been enjoyable, and one of the villagers would happily look after her chickens… Alphonse grinned and turned to kiss Delyth’s cheek. “Won’t you miss Sylvie too much?”
Delyth s
norted, her lips curling upwards. “Whatever will we do, snug in a warm inn without any hens to drag us out of bed in the morning?” She squeezed Alphonse playfully. “They’ll be fine, between the villagers and stoic Margot to protect them.”
Alphonse glanced out the window towards their front garden, overgrown with creeping vines and flowering bushes. To the road beyond. A slow soft, smile tucked its way into the corners of her mouth.
“I’ll pack the bags.”
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* * *
Although they had flown south, Alphonse held close in Delyth’s arms, the pair entered Dailion on foot amid innumerable others, just another couple on the crowded road. Around them, farmers drove carts laden with produce, merchants moved in caravans of brightly-colored wagons, and travelers of all descriptions walked or rode between them. While the majority were the warm tan of middle Ingola, there were golden-eyed people with what looked to be feathers amongst their hair, islanders, Cabots with blued skin, and webbed fingers… Though Delyth did not see another with the distinctive wings of Maoz’s bloodline, neither did she feel as though she stood out. Dailion was a major city, and the road leading to its north-facing gates was a more thorough cross-section of the Cabots of Illygad than she had ever seen.
The wait to pass through the gates was something she could have done without, however. It seemed to take an age after the quick travel of their flight to stand in the portal and state their business to bored guards. When it finally was their turn, the armored woman didn’t so much as blink at Delyth. She must have seen stranger visitors in her time at the post. And then they were through, buildings crowded round them more thickly than the trees surrounding Glynfford.
Delyth took a deep breath.
This city was much busier than Aberdwyr, the streets packed with newcomers and city dwellers alike. She could not imagine the number of people who lived here, on top of each other, breathing the same air.
A small but steady hand slipped into Delyth’s, offering a reassuring squeeze. “Since Etienne is a Master at Moxous now, he will have been granted ample lodgings. Though how tidy they will be…” she trailed off, frowning slightly. “I did send a message that we were coming, so… Maybe he cleaned up?”
Shaking her head, Alphonse regripped Delyth’s hand. “It’s a bit louder than I remember…” She led Delyth through a labyrinth of paths until they came to a large fountain. At its center were stone statues of people. Hands outstretched creating water, faces upturned gloriously to the sky. It was the most impressive piece of stonework Delyth had ever come across, but Alphonse didn’t seem to notice the fine details, the warmth of the marble. Her eyes were on the students bustling past. “They look so young.”
“You looked almost that young when we first met.” Delyth squeezed Alphonse’s hand, smiling down at her fondly. She was only a handful of years older than Alphonse, but still, the healer had seemed so small, so delicate that first afternoon when they’d come across each other on an empty, tree-cloaked trail. Now, though her outward appearance had not changed outside of the loss of her veil, Delyth did not think those words fit Alphonse any longer. She’d borne too much, fought too hard.
And won, ultimately.
Delyth turned her eyes back to the fountain and the students milling about the courtyard. It was a little odd to see for the first time a place she had heard so much about. She could easily picture Alphonse studying on the manicured lawn or climbing the stairs into Moxous itself. “Have you missed this place since coming to live in Nyth’draig?”
❀
The healer’s gaze drifted over the students’ hunched shoulders, the sparkling water of the fountain. She touched her brow, still anointed with the mark of a Moxous Healer, and then shook her head. “How can I miss something when my heart is so full?” she asked, knowing it sounded silly and frivolous and meaning every word of it. Alphonse squeezed Delyth’s hand again in a secret embrace, trying to convey how much she didn’t regret her life with Delyth. Didn’t miss the hustle and bustle of Moxous.
She had chosen the right path.
Delyth’s voice was warm. “I feel the same, annwyl.” She leaned down to press a kiss onto the top of Alphonse’s head. “Should we look for Etienne at the school? Or would it be better to try his lodgings? I suppose we could always look around some first.”
“The school is the surest way to find Etienne. If he’s not in his classroom or private study, then he’ll be in the catacombs. And if by some miracle he’s none of those places, his students will surely know where he might be found. Any ambitious student is attentive to their master’s schedules. I knew everything about my healer master’s life… Even her favorite teas and where she would sneak a nap. I wanted so badly for her to believe I was a good student.” Alphonse flushed at the memory. “Did you follow your Swordbearer around too?”
“No,” she said, laughing. “Though, to be fair, most everyone at the temple kept the same schedule.” Delyth’s gaze skipped over the too-curious glances of passing students, but she examined the halls and open rooms with interest. “I think if I were a teacher, I’d not like students constantly underfoot.”
“You do have to like children and the commotion. I personally find it a bit overwhelming. Even as a student, I spent much of my time alone or just with Etienne in the libraries.” Alphonse motioned for Delyth to pause, seeing a name painted in beautiful scrawling font across a door.
Master Etienne Etoile: Cosmic Laws, Runes, and Rituals.
Pride swelled beneath her breast, and Alphonse couldn’t help but run a trembling finger over the glossy letters. How far he had come. All that he had achieved. She could hear his familiar, lilting voice beyond and beamed over her shoulder at Delyth. He was here! Teaching! All she wanted to do was open the door and join the class, scrolls and ink in hand. Ready to learn from her friend.
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Delyth leaned close to the door to better hear the clipped cadence of the sorcerer. His was a familiar voice still, for all that they had not spoken in well over a year.
“These two exceptions to the fourth principle of the visual field actually make two-dimensional illusions just as difficult to produce correctly as their more quote-on-quote advanced relations. However, they still do have one major benefit over three-dimensional and auditory illusions. Any ideas as to what that may be?”
There was a muffled response from a young voice, and then Etienne continued.
“Pre-cisely…” He sounded thoroughly pleased. “Despite the equal amount of difficulty in the preparations of two- and three- dimensional illusions, two-dimensional illusions require much less energy to maintain. Now, as we move forward in the practical study of illusion rituals, there is one thing you must keep in mind…”
He paused as though to give the class time to wonder. “Tell me, what is the most fundamental portion of a human being?”
Delyth heard the class’s answer this time, as it was voiced confidently by several of the students: “The mind.”
“Yes,” Etienne continued briskly. “The mind. The consciousness. The seat of our true selves. It decides how we feel. How we act. And it does all of this based on the information it perceives from our senses… Make no mistake, class. Illusion magic is magic that interferes with the minds of its targets and should not be practiced lightly…”
There was a moment of total silence within, and Delyth could just imagine the pale-eyed scholar peering down sternly at his class.
“I expect your papers on illusion and the human mind in my office no later than tomorrow evening. Now, class dismissed.”
Delyth stepped out of the way of the door two heartbeats before it was thrust open, the young girl bent on charging through it skidding to a halt at the sight of the warrior. She stood still a second, brown eyes wide, and then flew on when Delyth didn’t make any sudden moves.
“I guess our timing was pretty good, despite the wait at the gate,” she told Alphonse, smiling as more students rushed out behind the first.
&nb
sp; As the torrent finally abated, Alphonse slipped through the door. “Master Etoile, I disagree with what you were saying. About the mind being the most fundamental portion of a human?” Alphonse said. “Surely the soul matters more than the mind?”
Delyth followed the healer inside, coming to stand behind her just as Etienne looked up, excitement brightening his features. “Alphonse!” he said and stood up so quickly that several papers went flying. He came around the front of the desk and swept the small woman into a hug. “Some masters would argue that the soul is a part of the consciousness, created by the mind… but that’s not important now! How are you? How was the trip?”
When he finished smothering Alphonse long enough for her to reply, Etienne turned to Delyth, meeting her eyes, and the warrior gripped his shoulder. They had nothing in common besides Alphonse, but Delyth treasured the mutual respect between them, born as it was out of shared trials. “Hello, Etienne.”
“You point those masters my way. I’ll set them right. The mind and the soul— They are two different things.” Alphonse brushed her hands down the front of her dress and glanced over her shoulder at Delyth. It was strange to have them all in the same room together again. It hadn’t been this way in so long. “I am well. The journey was blessedly uneventful. And you?” She stepped away from the mage, letting her back come to rest against Delyth, her voice thickening with feeling.“Look at you! A master with robes and everything. I’m so proud of you.”
Distantly, Delyth felt Alphonse’s fingers find hers where they rested on the healer’s shoulder, but her eyes were turned to Etienne. There seemed something sad about the smile he gave them.
A little of old loss.
“Thanks, Allee. I am doing well. Moxous is the same as ever, but I think I’m beginning to make a little headway on the curricular changes I wrote you about. The other masters are resistant to change, but with enough persistence, I’ll win them over.”