It was the Paxwoman's Pledge. Ghia felt her jaw drop in astonishment. "Aro, I..." she began, and stopped, unable to finish. Ghia, part-Magi heir to Atton, child of Voco, cousin to Bellicas Yarrow and Anala, Head Healer of Athering, and now with Second Major Aro as my paxwoman. Talk about giving myself airs. She shook her head, feeling a little dizzy with the weight of it. All she'd wanted was a simple life. She could almost hear the Goddesses laughing Their divine butts off.
The major rose again and smiled down at her. "What's done is done, Healer. I'm your paxwoman now, whether you like it or not."
Ghia laughed mirthlessly. "I'm not deserving of your loyalty, Aro. I just do what's needed."
Aro's face turned serious. "And it saved Anala's life, so as far as I'm concerned you are deserving of my loyalty. And my life, if it comes to that. "
"Let's hope it doesn't. I'm going to go and eat now. You should go visit Anala," she said, waving him away. "I'm sure your lover is eager to see you."
Aro stopped and slowly turned around. "She said you knew," he said, shaking his head slightly, "back before she left. I'd totally forgotten, though I suppose, with all those other things you know, I shouldn't be surprised."
Ghia shrugged. "What can I say? I'm good like that. Go see your bellica, Aro. Enough with the anticipation."
He nodded and near-sprinted into the clinic, a bounce in his step. Ghia watched him go with a half-smile. Her break would be over all too soon; she headed down to the bakery to get something to eat.
Halfway there, another cramping spell took her and she had to lean against a nearby building for support, doubled over with pain. She would have retched again, but her stomach was empty. Dizzy with pain, fatigue, and emotional turmoil, she forced herself upright and continued to the bakery.
She had no ulterior motive in visiting this particular bakery, or any other bakery -- she was just hungry and it happened to be close by. So, it was with surprise that she heard the matriarch of the Baker family immediately ask after Anala.
"How do you know Anala? And why would I?" she asked. Perhaps rudely, but she was too tired to be polite.
The woman smiled and patted her arm. "I'd'a ken Anala since she'd been a wee thing. She'da been playmates with me eldest. I'd 'eard she'da been injured, and so as ye look ta be a healer I'd thought ye might ken a mite o' her condition." The woman looked at her shrewdly. "But I'd a feeling ye'd be more than just a healer ta Anala."
"I'm a friend of hers from Atherton," she said as explanation. This woman didn't need to know her familial ties to Anala. Tyvian, no one did. "Healer Ghia deHelene Donacella-Voto," she added by way of introduction.
"Sappho Baker. Does Anala live?"
Sharp and to the point, Ghia thought, tempted to giggle hysterically at her little pun. Instead she answered, "Aye -- she will for a while. Anala's strong, and a quick healer," she said, lying easily. Anala was strong, it was true, but she would have died from that wound without Ghia's help -- she would have died before reaching Harbourtown had it not been for the healer's foresight before Anala had left for Voco. She dismissed these thoughts. All in the past now and Anala was alive. Right now all that mattered was food. "Not to be rude, but I'm terribly hungry and my break will be over soon."
"Oh, dear, where'd me manners be? Just sit yerself down, child, and I'll be getting ye a mite o' tea." Sappho smiled in apology as Ghia sank gratefully into a chair. "What would ye like?"
"Anything hot and meaty would be great, thank you," Ghia said, and blushed at the double entendre. Ah, naughty Desirelle! It's as if a faucet of never ending sex has been turned on in me. Down, girl, down.
Quickly Ghia's food and tea arrived and she dove in hungrily. The sandwich was very good -- better even than her aunt Kasandra's sandwiches, and that was saying something. To her surprise, Sappho sat at her table and talked to her of all that had transpired in Harbourtown in the past sevenday or so. Strangely, the woman's idle chatter made Ghia feel better; she wanted to hear all the details of the Battle of Harbourtown from someone who'd not been injured in it. Sappho's account was much fuller than those of the patients in the clinic.
At some point, a young woman, still older than Ghia, came to collect the healer's cutlery. When the healer thanked her all she got was a murderous glare in return. Taken aback, Ghia reached out to touch the woman's mind, wondering what she'd done to offend her so.
The vipers' nest of hate she found made her reel, and she nearly retched again. Sappho stopped mid-sentence and looked at her in concern. "Ye alright, child? Ye look downright green. It'd not be the food, would it?" She gestured to where Ghia's plate had been.
Ghia waved her hand in a negative; if she shook her head, she'd throw up. "No, the food was delicious. I've just been getting dizzy spells for over a sevenday now. It'll pass."
"Ah," said Sappho, and leaned back with a knowing expression on her face. "In a month or so, ye'll probably be wondering why ye decided to do it at all, but I'll tell ye now, it'd be worth it, in the end."
Ghia closed her eyes and forced herself to smile. To keep up the pretense would be easier than explaining the long and not wholly believable truth. "I'll keep that in mind."
"Who'd be the lucky man, if'n I might ask?" Sappho asked abruptly, and Ghia nearly died.
How far must I carry this? "He's not here right now," she heard herself answer, and realised she was going to take the lie to the full. "He'll be joining me shortly, though. He had business with his bellica in Mudflat." She opened her eyes and hoped her face didn't betray her. She'd never lied so extensively as she had today. And to think I'm suggesting Jules is the father of my unborn (and non-existent) child! Ridiculous! She felt increasingly nervous.
Sappho smiled and nodded. "Military man. Good choice. They'd be loyal."
Ghia nodded in return and searched for a change of subject. Anything to get out of this spiralling lie of doom. "That woman who took my plate -- was that your daughter?"
Sadness crossed Sappho's face before she answered. "Aye. That'd be Laurel, me youngest." She grimaced slightly before continuing. "She'd not been the same since Isidora died."
"Isidora?" Ghia asked, damning her curiosity for prodding what was most likely an old wound. Why can't I learn when to shut up?
Sappho frowned and sighed. "Me eldest. Died in the Battle o' Voco, in 'fifteen. Laurel loved 'er a great deal -- Tyvian, everyone did. She'd been Harbourtown's Sweetheart. But...Laurel never really healed. 'S been five years and most 'ave found some sort o' solace. Even Major Caelum, I 'ear, and they'd been 'andfasted. Laurel's never found that center again. Poor girl," she said, looking to the back where her daughter worked, baking bread. "'s not been easy on 'er -- first 'er fiancé, then 'er sister. She's not been able to re-adapt ta normal life."
"I'm sorry." Ghia felt a bit awkward. On the one hand, history's gaps were being filled in in a very personal, real way for her, and enriching her view of Athering's recent past. On the other hand, she felt like a total jerk.
"Not yer fault, child," Sappho said, smiling briefly. "Some pains go on and on. Cannae help such things."
There was a pause, the words hanging in the air heavily. Ghia couldn't imagine surviving the emotional blow that losing a child would give. How Sappho not only survived, but ran a successful bakery and kept her family going was extraordinary, to say the least. Colour me impressed.
Her time was up; Ghia reached for her coin purse. "I have to get back to work now. Thank you very much for the food and talk. How much do I owe you?"
Sappho shook her head. "Free. Ye saved Anala's life; givin ye a meal's tha least I could do."
"You're too kind. I said Anala was strong. I just did my job," Ghia protested modestly. "Let me pay."
Sappho leaned across the table and lowered her voice. "When the Battle'd begun, I'da been on that frontlines, providin' food fer the soldiers an' tha healers. I'd seen Anala when she'd been brought in. I'da heard what tha healers said about her condition. I ken what ye did fer us, Healer Ghia. I dinnae ken how a
nd I dinnae really care, fer it only matters ta me that ye did it. Tha food 'n' drink are free," she said with an air of finality to her voice as she sat back in her chair, "and what else I'd be able ta spare ye."
Ghia nodded numbly and pocketed her coin purse. "Then thank you, Sappho. I truly appreciate it. I must go now, but if you wish to visit Anala she's stable now. I'm sure she'd love to see you."
Sappho smiled, a sad gesture. "I might be o' a mind ta do jus' that. Fare ye well, Healer."
"And you, Sappho," Ghia replied, and then hurried back to the clinic. Her break was long over.
~
A fearsome sight awaited her at the clinic's front. Lares, Aro, and Dagon the sailor stood yelling at each other, waving arms, throwing threats, and generally causing a scene.
"What were you thinking, letting her go to Voco alone?" Lares was saying to Aro loudly, though with admirable control.
"What was I supposed to do? Not everyone can disobey orders as readily as you can, Stout-Heart," Aro spat back, making Lares' name sound like an insult.
"Ever have I served my Lady faithfully," Lares replied in a tight voice.
"O? What about when ye served yer Lord? Or doesnae that count?" Dagon said, eager to get into the fray.
Lares rolled his eyes at the old sailor. "Are you aware of what the 'double' in 'double agent' means? I ever have been faithful to Hope -- it was her orders I followed, and no one else's." He stopped and looked away quickly but not before Ghia saw the tears in his eyes.
Unable to leave well enough alone, Aro said "How do we know you're not still a double agent? Tyvian, a triple agent! You could be here under Lord Exsil Vis' orders. I don't want you around my bellica."
"I dinnae either, ye Vocan spy."
"Even if it were my choice to make," Lares said, tight control back, "which it is not -- where would I go?"
"Why dinnae ye go back to Voco? Ye had a cushy enough job there."
Lares narrowed his eyes at Dagon. "Because they'd kill me."
"Exactly," said major and sailor at once.
Ghia'd seen enough. She'd seen enough quite a while ago, but she'd wanted time to work up a good anger.
"What a fine sight this is -- Anala's Major, Paxwoman, and Honour Guard arguing over who's more fit to guard her. If it were up to me to decide, I'd say none of you."
Aro jumped and looked at her guiltily; Dagon developed a fascination with his toes. Lares merely bowed his head submissively.
"Ghia, he could be a spy," said Aro urgently.
"I heard the accusations, Paxwoman. I daresay the whole of Harbourtown heard them as well," she added, shooting Aro a glare that could curdle milk. "I could not care less what you think about who is or is not a spy -- right now you're yelling in front of the clinic. A place of healing. How do you expect Anala to get any rest if you're disturbing her and everyone around her? That's what I thought," she said to the blushes that rose on three faces. "Now, if you're quite done displaying dominance over one another, I suggest you leave. In fact, I order it."
"As you wish, Domina," Lares said instantly, bowing deeply.
Interesting -- he doesn't curtsy.
"At least one man here knows his place," she said haughtily. Aro and Dagon shot Lares murderous glares, but his eyes were on her, waiting for instruction. This power I wield is quite unnerving. Where's Jules' constant bickering when I need it? "Now go, all of you -- I expect you to be best friends when I see you again."
Lares bowed again and started off in search of a tavern that wasn't filled with dying people; Dagon looked between the Vocan and Ghia for a moment before following the other man. Aro stayed to argue.
"How can you expect us to be friends with a Vocan?" he asked her in an angry whisper.
"Because, Aro, you're all oathbound to Anala -- you're going to have to get along."
He kicked the ground angrily. "I don't trust him."
Ghia sighed at his stubbornness. "Do you trust me, Aro?"
He blinked, taken aback. "Of course I do."
"Then trust Lares. He's got nothing to hide." I tell you as a Magi, she sent, and saw his eyes widen in surprise. "Now, go. Go get drinks -- non-alcoholic! Go with Lares and Dagon and do that male-bonding thing. I'll be here, working, and I'll see you tomorrow, when they need hangover tea." She smiled and patted his arm, to show she wasn't angry anymore.
He curtsied low in acquiescence. "As you wish, My Lady," he said, and then was off down the street.
Ghia shook her head in disbelief as she entered the clinic. Did little boys ever grow up?
Anala
Anala was surprised, to say the least. Surprised to be alive and back home.
Surprised to have Lares pledge himself as her paxwoman immediately upon her wakening -- wasn't he technically an enemy? Not anymore, she supposed.
Surprised that Ghia and Aro were in town, and that apparently Yarrow and company were arriving shortly thereafter.
Really, incredibly surprised -- no, wrong word -- shocked, astounded, traumatised -- to find the truth of her parentage lay in the royalty of Mt. Voco.
Most surprising of all was what was happening now -- Sappho Baker's arms wrapped around the bellica tightly as she cried, saying how much she'd missed Anala. How happy she was that Anala was back home. Crying with tears of relief that Anala was alive and safe.
"Sappho, I'd be needing ta breathe," she whispered into the older woman's hair.
"Forgive me, child," Sappho said, releasing Anala and sitting back in her chair. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. "I'd thought ye dead fer sure, when they'd brought ye in."
Anala grunted as she changed position. "It wasnae a pleasant wound, ta be sure. But I'm a mite surprised ye'd been sa worried about me, Sappho." She turned to regard the older woman levelly. "After what I'd told ye," she added pointedly.
"I'd been stunned, sure," Sappho said, easily admitting the truth. "But I'd let it absorb, ye ken, overnight, and it'd been a mite easier to accept. I dinnae blame ye, child. I went lookin' fer ye the next day, ta tell ye as much, but ye'd left already. When I'd heard where I nearly lost meself in grief!"
Anala blinked furiously as tears came to her eyes at Sappho's easy forgiveness of her. "How did ye know me destination? It'd been classified," she forced herself to say around the lump in her throat.
Sappho waved her hand and snorted. "It'd be Harbourtown, Anala. It'd no be hard ta ferret out tha right information -- so long as ye know who it is ye're asking, and how. Dockworkers what are friends with Merry's crew let me know." Anala nodded and closed her eyes. It was hard to keep a secret in this town. A pause, and then Sappho spoke again. "I'd never stopped lovin' ye like me third daughter, Anala. Me and Dem both. Once, we thought...we'd thought ye and Isidora might.... Ye'd been so close as kids. And I'd never thought much o' her choice o' Caelum, ye ken. But something'd been different between ye, since before ye left for the military. She'd told me naught o' it, but she didnae need ta. 'Twas clear as day ta her mother." Anala opened her eyes to find Sappho staring at her intently. "Wha' was it, Anala? What drove ye two apart?"
Anala swallowed convulsively, trying to rid her throat of the second lump it'd had in such a short period of time. I dinnae want ta go over it again, she thought wretchedly. Was yellin' at 'is Lordship not enough?
Mayhap not. She'd felt a certain release in screaming out the pain and anguish that she'd kept bottled up for so long. And Sappho'd deserve ta know -- 'er children's 'appiness what's been affected so intimately.
She sighed and turned more squarely on her back, determined to stare at the ceiling for the duration of this verbal ordeal. If she looked at Sappho, she would break. "Ye ken Adem was shipped off ta the military at sixteen. What ye dinnae ken -- what no one kens, aside meself and Tenea -- is why. And I'd rather not have ta say it again -- makes me sick ta think o' it, which is why I'd not done so fer so long. But suffice it ta say 'e hurt me -- bad. And instead o' doing what would 'ave been right, and going ta the proper authorities, I went ta me Aunt, and begged 'e
r ta help me deal with it quietly.
"And so she convinced me parents to send their son off ta potential war. I'd never wished that sort o' hurt on Laurel, and I'm sorry it had ta happen that way. But mayhap I saved 'er from a worse hurt by me actions; I'll never be made ta ken. Adem died by his own stupidity, that much I do ken. If he couldnae survive the survival course they'd given in basic training, 'twas a miracle he survived ta be a young man at all.
"But. That isnae here nor there. Since Adem'd...done what he'd did...I'd not been able ta. Ta love, I suppose ye'd say. Or ta feel as deeply as I should. I dinnae even know how deeply I should feel.
"So when Isidora came ta me with confessions o' how she truly felt, I didnae ken what ta do. And sa I ran away -- left fer the military, after pushin' 'er away from me. I hurt her. And I ken that I did, too -- I did it because I didnae ken how to feel about her."
She stopped then, unable to continue as the tears blocked her vision and the lump came back to clog her throat. She felt Sappho's arms come around her then, and she leaned into the embrace, a mother's love something she'd lacked for far too long.
"I didnae ken, child," Sappho whispered to her, tears unshed clustering in her voice, ready to spill forth.
Anala shook her head, a jerky, stilted movement. "No one did. I didnae want them to."
Not even meself.
Lares
There was an interesting rumour flying around Harbourtown.
He heard it at the tavern while he and his new friends Aro and Dagon sat nursing pints of ale over life stories.
He'd been surprised that Major Aro had apparently changed his tune so quickly -- not that he had changed internally, for Healer Ghia had told him to do so and Lares very much doubted that anyone, as submissive as Lares or not, could disobey the opinionated, feisty young woman. It was almost instantaneous -- one minute Lares had been walking to the tavern alone, a surly Dagon following this new pariah of Athering, and the next Aro had come up beside him and apologised for his earlier behaviour, asking to be friends.
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