Ambrosia

by Aaron Lee Yeager

  “But she’s the Healer of the South. She revived Pericles when he was bitten by the…”

  “No, she didn’t! Pops, none of this crap is real. They’re just stories, okay? Sad, stupid, pitiful little made up stories, and yet you treat them like they’re real. It’s pathetic. You’re a grown man obsessing over dolls and fairy tales. I know children who are more mature than you are! There is a whole real world out there and you’d rather just play pretend rather than be a part of it. You just hide away like some vole in your hovel, shielding your face from reality because you know you are a failure in real life. Seriously, I can’t believe that you and Storgen are related. You are the most obnoxious and childish man I have ever met. It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends, who would want to spend time with someone who gets all starry-eyed over little statues with big breasts? When was the last time you touched a real woman?”

  “Last Saturn’s Day.”

  “The amazon doesn’t count!

  Storgen held up his hand. “We’re here.”

  They stepped out into a clearing, filled with decayed and crumbling buildings. Fields of crops turned to dust, the creek nothing but a dried-up riverbed. Thatched roofs were fallen inwards, slumped fences creaking against the wind, tumble-down shelves and fallen shutters. This was not a village, it was the corpse of a village.

  “But…where is everyone?” Philiastra asked as they stepped in.

  Pops and Storgen were silent as they passed by dilapidated structures. Through sulking windows they caught glimpses of peeling paint, silent water clocks, broken, dusty stools, dry vases filled with the husks of flowers, and faded pictures barely discernible, the eyes peering out through cracked dust.

  When they turned the corner, Philiastra covered her mouth. Dry sunken graves in prefect rows, just like the ones they had encountered back on Dasikí Chará.

  “Human settlements have been disappearing like this for the last ten years,” Pops explained. His voice was so different from before. It was deep, gravelly, and painfully somber. “Mine was the first.”

  “You mean…?”

  Storgen pushed open a door to a house, revealing a living room frozen in time. Plates still sat at the table with the sunken and ashy remains of food, goblets and cutlery still laid out as if waiting for guests that would never arrive. All of it covered with so much dust that it was of one uniform color of brown.

  Pops opened his mouth, barely able to speak. “This was my house. I had been called away for a meeting with Regent Ilias about expanding the copper mine. When I came back…”

  Pops nearly tumbled. Storgen had to steady him to keep him from falling over.

  Pops reached out and touched one of the small goblets. “When I came back everyone I knew was gone.”

  Philiastra stepped back, overwhelmed with shock. “Where were you, Storgen?”

  Storgen took Pops and gave him a tender kiss on the head. “Pops isn’t my father. We’re not even related.”

  Pops fought back the tears. “I spent years appealing to every government agency about the massacre, but no one cared. Storgen found me atop the Apérantos River Bridge. I had reached the end. Storgen stopped me from jumping. He said he’d find a way to help me get home.”

  Philiastra looked up at a portrait on the wall. It was so faded and cracked she could barely recognize it. A healthy man, a happy man, with a devoted wife, and two beautiful daughters. The man in the portrait was so different, it barely even looked like Pops.

  Pops bit his lip, tears forming in his eyes. “Do you want to want to know why I hide in my stories? In my legends? In my heroines? Because you were right, I am hiding. I’m hiding because I don’t want to live in this world anymore. This world is terrible. I hate it. I’d rather live in another world, even if it’s not real. A world where my children aren’t dead. A world where my wife wasn’t murdered. A world where villains are punished, and the innocent are avenged. Not this world, not a place where hope has been locked away, not a place where courage is dead, not a place where the wounded are not healed, and the suffering are not comforted. Not a place where I have to go to hell and back just for the privilege of visiting the graves of my children.”

  Pops closed his eyes, tears running down his cheeks. “So, you go on living in your precious real world, Miss Thavmos. I don’t want anything to do with it. What is there for me in your world? Huh? Nothing! Your world is as empty to me as a starless sky. So, you will kindly excuse me if I don’t find your offer appealing in the very least!”

  Philiastra began to cry. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  Storgen reached out and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t mock someone when you don’t know their pain.”

  Pops sniffed and stood up straight. He took a moment to straighten his clothes, and then stepped over to the bedroom door. It creaked as it opened, revealing three empty beds, a sunken grave beside each. Two of them were tiny, and it made Philiastra weep just to look at them.

  The walls were lined with dusty shelves, with even dustier figurines on them.

  “The Anterberry Collection,” Pops said quietly. “These were their favorites. Every time we’d journey to trade with another island, they insisted I buy one for them. My wife said it was a waste of money, and she was right, it was, but they’d look up to me with their sweet little eyes, and I just couldn’t say no.”

  Pops walked up to the collection. There were six empty spots. “But they never finished it. These six were too hard to find. When I left, I promised them I’d help them finish it someday. I promised them…”

  Pops fell to his knees and began to weep. “I’m sorry,” he cried out. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you from whoever did this terrible thing. I’m sorry…I’m sorry about everything…”

  With trembling hands, Pops took out each of the remaining six dolls, and placed them into the empty spots.

  “There you go, sweethearts,” he cried out. “Daddy got the rest of them for you. It’s the only thing left I could still do for you.”

  Pops dropped his face into his hands, and sobbed deeply.

  Philiastra and Storgen cried as well.

  “Come on,” Storgen said, wiping his eyes. “Let’s leave him be.”

  “He’s not coming with us?” Philiastra asked with tearful eyes.

  “Why would he? He’s finally home.”

  * * *

  Erolina fell to her knees, the cramping in her muscles so bad she doubled over in pain. The burning ate away at her stomach, radiating to every extremity. Even the tips of her hair felt like they were on fire. She turned her head to the side and retched, emptying the few contents of her stomach out onto the floor beside her.

  Lord Krýo Fidi stood over her, his angelic face watching dispassionately as she heaved on the floor.

  “It brings me no pleasure to see you like this,” he said.

  “I have done what you asked,” she spat. “Now, give me what you promised.”

  He shook his head in disappointment. “Even in so much pain, you still hold on so tightly to your pride.”

  She looked up at him with bloodshot, defiant eyes. “An amazon always keeps her pride.”

  He held up his hand and it became liquid light. He formed a dish filled with liquid silver and held it out to her. “Only when your pride is broken can your redemption begin.”

  She reached out for the dish with shaking fingers, but he tilted his hand, letting the dish fall free.

  “NO!” she screamed.

  The dish clattered to the ground, splattering its contents. She was on it in a flash, slurping up what remained, then licking the dish frantically. Unsatiated, she rooted through the dirt like a pig, sucking up the drips from the dirt, and grabbing handfuls of soil and shoving them into her mouth to extract the damp remains of the essence.

  Lord Krýo shook his head in disgust. “To think I once held you in the highest of regard.”

  Erolina rolled onto her back
, her mouth caked with mud. Her muscles began to unclench, the pain began to subside. The craving diminished from a wildfire to a candle’s flicker. As she returned to herself, she covered her face in shame.

  “Clean yourself up and join me in the study for your next task,” Lord Krýo said as he walked away.

  Erolina rolled onto her side and wept bitterly.

  * * *

  Storgen sat quietly on the edge of the village dump. This place was so maddeningly quiet, only the whistle of the wind pierced the silence, and the distant sounds of Pops crying. Gáta sat in his lap, licking his hand.

  Some of the garbage shifted and Philiastra emerged, holding a broken auto-knife. For a moment she thought to show off her find, but decided against it. Nothing seemed to relieve the gloom of this place. The gloom they felt.

  She took off her goggles and sat down on an old couch, prying open the handle and examining the alchemic circuits within.

  “I thought you had sworn off using alchemy?” Storgen asked.

  “I did,” she said sadly. “Several times, in fact. But every time I do, I find another treasure who needs me. I used to love alchemy, now every time I use it, I hate myself.”

  “You know, you don’t actually have to go dumpster diving.”

  “Yes I do.”

  “But, why?”

  “Because they need to be saved, and only I can save them.”

  She waved her hand and the circuit rings grew bigger, allowing her to manipulate them like tumblers. “Like this little guy, for example. He was just out of alignment, you see? There was nothing wrong with him. Why did some idiot have to throw him away? He could have been useful for years. He could have made a banquet, he could have carved the roast beast at a waning moon dinner. But no, some thoughtless person just threw him away like he was garbage.”

  She closed up the housing and the knife hummed to life. “Well, not today. Not if I have anything to say about it! I’m going to save him. I’m going to save all of them. Every last one. Because I can. Because I should. Because I have to.”

  Storgen thought about what she had said. “You have a good heart, Phili.”

  She set down the knife and fidgeted with her gloves. “Back on Kólasi…when we kissed….you felt something right? A spark, a connection. It was real. I know I felt it, and I think you felt it, too.”

  “How can you ask me that right now?”

  “I think I deserve a response.”

  “And what should I say? Huh? If I say ‘no,’ I hurt my best friend. If I say ‘yes,’ then I hurt my best friend even more. What kind of a choice is that?”

  “There you go again. I’m not some frail little flower. I don’t want to be coddled. I don’t want you to answer what you think might hurt my feelings less, I want you to tell me the truth. When we kissed, you felt it, right?”

  “I don’t know, okay?”

  “How can you not know what you felt?”

  “Because I’m a guy!”

  “You’re supposed to be this artist, all in touch with your feelings and crap like that.”

  “I know! Don’t you think I know that?!”

  She backed away from him a little. “Why would it hurt me if you said ‘yes?’”

  “You know why.”

  “I want you to say it.”

  “Ugh. Because I’m destined to be with another. If I admitted I felt something that would just make it even worse for you.”

  “That spit again?”

  “It’s not spit.”

  She stood up and threw her goggles on the ground. “Yes, it is! There’s no such thing as destiny, Storge. That’s not what love is! Love isn’t some sentence declared by the fates. It’s not some mythical person you’re supposed to look for. It’s something you forge for yourself. It’s perfectly common and ordinary. You don’t have to go questing for it. It’s everywhere. But that doesn’t make it any less special. Love isn’t divorced from friendship, it isn’t something entirely different than friendship. Love IS friendship. It’s a connection, it’s compassion, it’s caring for another. It’s when you know someone, inside and out. It’s when you know every untidy part of them, and they know every untidy part of you, but they stay by your side, not in spite of it, but because of it. You’ve built up love in your head to be this big monumental thing, but you’re missing the forest for the trees. You’ve chosen to believe that only the Fates can pair you with someone, but that’s not true, you can chose someone for yourself. You don’t need them to direct you to someone to love, you can find someone to love all on your own. And you’ve so invalidated your own agency that you don’t even recognize or validate your own feelings. What you and I have IS love.”

  Storgen sat there quietly, saying nothing.

  His silence began to make her feel uncertain. “You agree with me, don’t you?”

  “I don’t want to answer.”

  She balled her fists. “Is it because I’m green?”

  “What?”

  “Is it because I’m not a human girl?”

  “NO!”

  “Then what is it? Huh? Just tell me! What is so wrong about me? What is so impossible to love about me?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you, Phili.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “I don’t know! Okay?”

  She stood there, hurting inside. “And what? I’m just supposed to sit here and wait while you figure out your feelings?”

  “That’s not fair, Phili.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not. You’re saying I have to decide how I feel right here and now just because you demand it.”

  She closed her eyes, forcing her temper to cool down. “You’re right…”

  She took a breath to cool her head. “You’re right; that’s not fair to you either.”

  She plopped back down on the couch, and for some time they sat there together in silence.

  “I hate this, Phili,” he admitted. “I hate that I am hurting you. I don’t want to hurt you. Why can’t we just go back to the way things used to be?”

  She sniffed and wiped her cheek. “I know. And there’s a part of me that wishes we could just go back to the way it was before, too. But I can’t change how I feel, any more than you can. I can’t ever go back to thinking of you as just a friend, and it would be agony to try.”

  “I know.”

  She turned away, fresh tears running down her cheek. “I’ll try to be patient, okay? I’ll wait for you to decide. In return, can I ask for one more selfish thing?”

  He nodded. “Anything.”

  She looked up at him. “Can you let me cry for a while?”

  Storgen felt like his heart would break. He got up and sat beside her, letting her rest her face on his chest while she cried.

  Storgen felt like a heel. Worse than a louse. He could feel how much she was hurting. Her frail little frame shaking as she cried.

  And he knew it was all his fault.

  For the first time in his life, Storgen cursed the existence of love. If it brought this much pain, how could it possibly be a good thing?

  Slowly the tears dried up, and her crying ceased, leaving only the occasional involuntary sob. She wiped her face on his shirt and placed her hand on his chest.

  “Thanks.”

  Being thanked made him feel even worse.

  “You’re welcome,” he forced out.

  She got up and gathered her things. “I’ll be back later.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to be alone for a while.”

  “Can I come with you?”

  “Thanks, but you’re the reason I need to be alone. I’m going for a walk in the forest.”

  Storgen watched as she crossed through the village and disappeared into the forest beyond. He looked at the spot where she had vanished long after she was gone, until he finally dropped his head onto his fist.

  “I hate myself.”

  * * *

  Mónos, Godmother of Private Intr
ospection and Animal Companionship, opened her eyes to the most pleasant sound of happy cats. She was lying on a cool, spotless pillow, with freshly laundered sheets. She sat up to clear perfumed air, and stepped down into soft waiting slippers on a polished clean floor.

  She knew each of her cats by name. Aleka and Baltsaros weren’t fighting anymore. Rena’s cough had finally gone away, Damara’s eye infection had cleared up completely, and Vasilios and Eleftherios had just had a healthy litter of kittens. Everywhere, coats were shiny and soft, eyes were bright and clear, and tails were happy and bolt upright.

  Even Mónos caught herself whistling happily as she sat down to find her breakfast, warm and ready. She was sleeping well for the first time since Reinala had demanded she recruit beastmen into her familia. No, she had never slept this well before.

  Malaina hopped up and cuddled with the Godmother, purring happily.

  “Are you purring?” Mónos cooed. “You are! I haven’t heard you purr in years.”

  The cat purred again and nuzzled with Mónos.

  “Yes, everyone is so happy lately. And we have our champion to thank for it.”

  She took a moment to think while she stroked the cat’s head. “We should do something nice for her, to thank her.”

  The brand on her neck began to pulsate, and the billowy image of Lichas appeared before her.

  “Godfather,” she said, getting down on her knees. “To what do I…?”

  Lichas held out his ring.

  “Ah, yes.”

  She crawled forward and placed her lips on the translucent form of the ring. The brand on her neck glowed brighter as she did so.

  “You are learning respect, my child,” Lichas praised, taking a long draw on his cigar. “Your mother would be proud to see you like this.”

  “I am happy to report that I have fulfilled all of our Godmother’s demands. The entire ailuros population will…”

  “That is not why I have reached out to you.”

  “It’s not?”

  “I have been challenged by Sirend, a challenge which I may not refuse. He means to take from me Froúrio, and the fortress locks.”