Biomancy

by Desdemona Gunn

  “You know he’s totally into you, right?”

  “What?”

  “Bart.” She nodded with her head subtly in Bart’s direction.

  “Barton Slade? You kidding? Ugh.”

  “What? He’s totally hot.”

  “Not my type. Too muscly and... jockish.”

  “What’s not to like?”

  “He’d see me as a conquest. Not interested.”

  “Oh come on—”

  “Rhia. I’m trying to work.”

  She stared down at Illy, who was, indeed, writing away at on her parchment.

  “You’re kidding me. Illune Serria is working diligently at homework due weeks out while Rhia Irimot ignores homework in favor of ogling boys? What is this world coming to?”

  “Chaos. Armageddon. Dogs and cats living together. Utter insanity.”

  “The monotone really completes your performance.”

  “Thank you, thank you.” She had yet to look up from the paper.

  “No, seriously, Ills. This is unlike you.”

  “Gee, thanks Rhi. Being productive is ‘unlike me?’ Awesome.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, yeah, your point’s totally valid. Doesn’t mean I can’t be a bitch about it.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Illy—”

  “Look,” she put the pen in the inkwell and faced Rhia. “My parents have been getting on my case about my work, really getting in my face, I just... I wanna work on it, get it out of the way.”

  “Illy,” Rhia gently put her hand up and brushed hair out of her face, revealing a small bruise on her cheek. Illy batted her hand away. “Illy, what happened?”

  “Nothing. I fell.”

  “Did...”

  “No,” She blurted before sighing despondently. “I’m not kidding, I seriously fell. Can we talk about this later?”

  Rhia sighed and looked down at her paper. Five pages about the Strait of Teledrious and its significance. That’s what she got for not picking first like usual. The good ones got taken first. She’d been trying to not be so much of a ‘teacher’s pet’ lately, hoping it would lower the scorn, but it hadn’t. She was getting as much crap as always, her assignments were getting harder, and she wasn’t having as much fun. This popularity crap’s for the birds.

  She looked up again and saw Bart chatting across the table with a friend, occasionally stealing glances at Illy. Rhia sighed, looking around the room, wishing a boy were stealing glances at her. Nope. No love for the weird Northman with awkward, starry eyes. Nobody wants a two-eyed freak with a dumb sing-songy accent, especially one with space eyes that spends all her time buried in books about science and nerdy crap. She tried out for some sports, but she just couldn’t bring herself to any athletics.

  Ten turns or so back, her mom had brought her an instrument she said a friend of hers made, and she’d been learning to play it, though not here. Her school didn’t have a music program; it didn’t even have good science or math classes. Mostly, it focused on history, agriculture, and practical skills like carpentry, shop class stuff. In a town like Nephkeska, you couldn’t waste time on useless things like arts and entertainment when you could be helping with something they needed.

  At home, though, she’d practice. She wouldn’t play for anyone, convinced she wasn’t good enough. Besides, the instrument was weird, not even a real one. Her mom’s friend had invented it. It was just a way to pass the time.

  She sighed and went to her essay, pulling in all the will she had to pretend she cared about what a soldier in a warlord’s army did thousands of turns ago.

  For lunch, they went off school grounds and climbed a nearby building, something they’d almost made a lunchtime tradition. The crates were stacked up behind the butchery just right to let them get up top and eat their sandwiches there. They sat in silence for a good few minutes before Rhia got up the nerve to ask.

  “Illy, that bruise—”

  “I told you, Rhi. I tripped, hit it on a table.”

  “You know you can tell me anything, Illy.”

  “Rhi,” she smiled halfheartedly. “It’s nothing so bad. I’m not lying. My... You think my dad hit me.”

  Rhia just stared back patiently, afraid to say anything.

  “He’s never hit me, Rhi. Never once. I’ve been... afraid, but he’s never done it, not to any of us. Until...” She paused, swallowed, and looked at nothing in particular. “He raised his hand at Kiernan last night. She was being a princess, like usual, and wanted to go out with friends instead of doing homework. Was being a brat about it too, not like me. I just get up, walk out. She was yelling and screaming and talking back. Dad... He got up all of a sudden, stalked over, grabbed her by the hair, and put her against the wall. I mean, he let go. Didn’t hit her or nothing. He just... freaked us out. Talked to us about doing homework, how important it was, and how he was the boss, we had to respect him as an elder and as our father. Shut her right up, that’s a plus.” She laughed lightly.

  Rhia stayed silent, looking at her, unsure of what to say.

  “I just... I wanna get my work done. I don’t know what he might do, what he’s capable of. I mean, I don’t know if he’d do it. He’s just...”

  “No, I get it.”

  “Do you?” Illy looked over at Rhia, into her eyes. “Do you get it?”

  “Yes, Illy, I understand perfectly. I’ve only known your family for forty turns.” Rhia pointedly bit her tongue, not mentioning the situation with her own father some forty turns ago.

  “It’s just... your life is so fucking perfect.” Tears started welling up in her eyes. “It’s just so good for you. You have the perfect mum, and you have space, and she cares about you and wants to help you, and I don’t. I have a dad who just wants us to be him, wants us to carry his legacy, and that’s all he cares about.

  “You looked at our family, Rhi? I got two sisters and a brother. Four kids, they got. Your mum stopped with you. She did right, she was happy. My dad wasn’t. He wanted me to be a boy, he’s said so, I’ve heard him. Mum? She was fine, happy to have me, but he wanted a boy, ‘cause he can’t let a girl carry on his legacy. A woman can’t be head of his fucking temple. He worships a woman and can’t let a woman lead.

  “No, he has to have a boy. My mum says no, one’s enough. Twenty turns pass, she forgets the pregnancy, forgets the pain, opens to the idea of another. Dad pumps another out of her. Keirnan. Girl number two. Still not good enough. My mum says no, two is enough. Twenty turns, she forgets, opens up to a third. He gets a third in there, another girl. Aella. She says no more, three’s enough, twenty more turns pass.

  “It’s like that’s the cutoff. Twenty. It takes twenty turns to forget how miserable she was when she was pregnant, the horrible time she had birthing us, the excruciating experience of raising a baby when her husband’s ‘too busy.’ Twenty turns, she gets pregnant again, finally pumps out a boy. Silas… He just turned thirty-three. Guess what? No new kid. No new brother or sister on the horizon. I guess four’s enough. He got his son, that’s all he needed.”

  “Illy, that’s not true. He loves you.”

  “Does he? Does he, Illy? He just wants his fucking son to carry on his legacy. Look at my mum. She doesn’t work, she only socializes at the temple, she might as well be a status symbol on his arm, a trophy with a baby maker inside. That’s how he looks at women, Rhi. We can’t lead, we can’t take over, because we’re just women.”

  “But he worships a woman.”

  “Yeah! That’s the stupid thing, it’s, what, irony, right? Stupid fucker dedicates his life to a woman, then spends it disrespecting women. And the worst part? My mum, bless her, just sits there and takes it. She doesn’t care, doesn’t stand u
p, doesn’t fight; she just lets him talk like he does, disrespect her and us, and, when he lays down the law, she upholds it without question. ‘Stand by your man.’ Fucking right.

  “Kiernan’s looking to grow up like me but bitchier and brattier. Aella’s little, but she seems like a chill ‘take no shit’ kind of girl, not up in your face ‘til you’re in hers. Kinda tomboyish, you ask me. Silas... Well, he’s just thirty-three. But I just... Augh!” She screamed and slumped defeatedly onto her knees. “I’m sorry, Rhi. It’s just been getting to me, ya know?”

  “No, no. That’s what I’m here for.”

  “Thanks, Rhi. You’re the best.” She swung her legs up from the side of the building and hugged her. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Or me, you. I mean, who would beat up all the mean ol’ girls making fun of me?”

  “Glad to be your vindicator, Rhi.” She kissed her cheek, sniffed, wiped a tear away, and hung her legs back over the wall, taking a bite of her nearly uneaten sandwich.

  “Sometimes I feel bad,” Rhia volunteered. “You know, with all this.”

  “What d’ye mean?”

  “Like, I got a nice house, my mam makes money, I got cool air, an icebox, enough food to last, I got every reason to be happy, right? I just feel... guilty.”

  “What, ‘cause you got a posh life?”

  “It isn’t posh, Illy! I’m not rolling in gold, not sleeping with silks. I just live more... comfortably than a lotta people here. I’ve never had to worry about whether I’ll eat tonight or not.”

  “And what, you feel guilty that you do and others don’t?”

  “And I got a nice life, a good mam, I’m just not happy. I just feel like crap, all guilty. ‘Cause you’re not.”

  “Aw, Rhi.” She put an arm around her and scooched her closer, letting Rhia’s head fall into the crook of her shoulder. “Don’t feel bad I ain’t got the life you got. We’re all dealt a hand of cards early on, we make do with what we got. You’re doing all right for yourself, I’m... hanging in, but we’re just in our hundreds, Rhi. We ain’t even outta the house yet. We got a long ways yet.”

  “Yeah,” Rhia sniffed.

  “You know, eventually we’re gonna get outta here. We’re gonna go a long way off, maybe back where you’re from, Vol’Tyr, maybe up to Antra. We’ll get a little house, I’ll do my clerical thing, you can study, become a famous scientist.”

  She sniffed again and smiled. “I’d like that. Move up to Antra, find a nice boy, settle down...”

  “Sure, Rhi. Just chill and relax.” They sat there for a short bit, eating their sandwiches until Rhia broke it again.

  “You know you were full of crap with that ‘he only wants a son’ thing, right?”

  “The fuck you mean by that?” She said, mouth full of bread and meat.

  “You said so yourself, in ‘doing your clerical thing.’ You got training, you’re always there, learning rituals, this and that. And you’re good, he knows it. He wouldn’t invest so much time in you if he didn’t think you were worth it.”

  “He won’t let me take over the temple, though. I’m just a girl, I can’t run something as complex as a temple. He lets me heal, ‘cause I can, but his temple’s got lots of lady healers. All the preachers, clergymen, higher-ups are men, not just here, but all over North Milakria. It’s how it goes, how we do.”

  “But he cares.” She smiled at her. “He’s investing time, energy, and power into making sure you can be useful, and helping you build up a talent. He wouldn’t do that if he didn’t care and love you somewhere deep down.”

  Illy just stared for a bit, taking an occasional bite.

  “You know,” she said after a while. “You’re right.” She took the last bite, chewed and swallowed before turning and smiling. “He’s still a bastard, though.”

  Chapter 20: The Corners of Her Mind

  The City of Arghan’Sul, Ghostfire Prefecture

  The darkness outside took her by surprise. Back in the hospital, she could have sworn light billowed in through the stained glass. The horizon still clung to the last bleeding edge of the sunset, but darkness had taken over ninety percent of the sky. Oh, I’m on the other side of Antra now, huh? Little darker here…

  Regardless, she stalked through the city and rather quickly found a bar. A large wooden sign hung above the door labeled ‘The Broken Prayer.’ She chuckled.

  Appropriate.

  The tavern was lit by candlelight along the walls and on each table, though yellow-tinted windows sat in the front of the store. A bar ran along the side of the tavern, tables to the left with a billiards table in back. Dark, dank, and not particularly popular. It suited her fine.

  “Absinthe. Straight up.” The bartender grabbed a glass, a slotted spoon, and the bottle, and as he reached for a sugar cube, Ani cut him off. “Oy, I said straight up.”

  “You mean without the sugar or water?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “That’s no way to drink abs—”

  “Do I look like I give a shit?”

  “Ma’am, I don’t know if you could handle—”

  “Oh don’t you fucking dare finish that sentence. Pour. Now.”

  Eyeing her warily, the bartender grabbed a shot glass and poured a shot. “Leave the bottle.” He obliged her.

  For the next cent straight, she took occupancy at a table in the far corner, pouring herself shot after shot. Eventually, she ordered a steak to put something in her stomach. By the time the steak reached her table, the bottle was nearly gone.

  She finished the steak, and a familiar voice greeted her. “You know next wake’s gonna suck, right Inks?”

  “Shut up, Torby. You’re dead.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “I don’t know, why are you here?”

  “You drank a fuck ton of absinthe.”

  “Absinthe don’t make you hallucinate.”

  “Sure it does. Green faeries and shit. You seen the posters.”

  “That’s not true and you know it.”

  “What do I know? I’m dead.”

  “He spiked my drink. That’s it. That fucker.”

  “You’re not thinkin’ straight, Inky girl.”

  “No. Shut up. You’re dead.” She got up, fell over herself, got up again with the help of two chairs and a wall, and stumbled over to the bar. With a passing glance, the bartender said, “Ma’am, I’m not giving you another bottle. You’ve had too much as it is.”

  “Did you spike mah fuckin’ drink with somethin’?”

  The bartender looked appalled. “Why ma’am, absolutely not. We’re a reputable es—”

  “You spiked my fuckin’ drink, you sonuvabitch!” She reached over, grabbed the bartender’s head, and slammed it against the bar. His head bounced back up as he tumbled to the ground behind the bar, leaving a small misted bloodstain on the bar top.

  “Goddamn it, Inks. Look what you done.”

  “Fuck you, Torbanson. Fuck you. You’re dead. You don’t get to give me shit.”

  “What are you doing to yourself, Inks? What happened to you?”

  “Fuck you,” she practically screamed at an empty bar. She swung a fist at the hallucination, tumbled forward awkwardly and slammed her head into a chair.

  “Are you feeling all right, ma’am?”

  She sat up, rubbing her head. She felt like a dagger was planted firmly in her skull and with every sound, the blade twisted a bit. “What... the fuck?”

  “How are you feeling?” She looked around, finding herself in a temple with a recurring aesthetic theme of purple and green. A tapestry hung across from her with an emblem sewn in of a rapier with a stein to its right and a pipe to its left. Great. A temple of Jaller, lady of debauchery and
fun. Who the fuck dragged me here?

  “Take your time, ma’am.” A priest stood above her garbed in a purple robe with dark green accents. The Northman was staring at her expectantly.

  “I—I’m sorry, what?”

  “You must still be inebriated. Hold on. Kris, little help?” Suddenly, powerful black arcane vines shot out of his hands and pierced her arms like spears. She felt the magic course through her veins and, after two minutes or so, felt a shift in the arcane tendrils. A Nojernan woman had appeared and was now pushing deep blue vines from her hands through Ani’s veins, though after quite a short time, the tendrils dissipated. Her buzz killed and headache removed, she stared at the man.

  “Did you just waste an entire bottle of absinthe, you bastard?”

  “Hey, the guy dropped you off and said you needed to be refreshed. I’m just doing my job, ma’am.”

  Ani prepared to grab the boy by the neck and slam his head into the table she rested on, but thought better of it. He’s right; just doing what he’s told. Instead, she started towards the door, stopped, and asked them the directions to a temple of Tze. Given the directions and a half-cent of walking, she found the place. A cleric in plate mail greeted her at the door.

  “Welcome to the sacred temple of—”

  “All hail the great Lawbringer. I need to rent out a practice room, my brother.” The words fell out of her mouth both practiced and rushed. Her hurry was obvious.

  “Any accouterments you desire?”

  “Some tape, a solid punching bag, a warhammer, and a few cents of zero disturbance.”

  “As you are, sister. Room seven shall be yours, and you shan’t be disturbed. Glory to the Lawbringer.”

  “Glory.”

  She stumbled back to the room, entered, locked the door behind her, and began to wrap tape around her fists. A warhammer sat in the corner of the room, but that would come in handy later.