Finally, he turned toward her and waved her over. "I wanted you to see this. See what you thought."
Laila looked at him questioningly, but she walked over and knelt next to him, looking at the image on the large pot. The image had been carved onto the pot itself and colored black, in contrast to the lighter color of the pot. A figure stood, with a staff, fire blazing around it. The fire emanated from another, larger figure a third of the way around the pot.
"This is..." Laila began, surprise catching her voice.
"It is."
"Why? How?"
"I put together what I had heard around the city."
"It's... I..." Laila did not know what to say. Why would he make something like this? The entire city thought of her as an outcast. She was an outcast. A Magus. Dio could not make something that idealized the Magi. He'd be shunned at the very least, at most, he'd probably lose his livelihood. No one in the city would want this.
"Dio, I... You can't show this to anyone. You'll look like you sympathize with the Magi," Laila finally said.
"I do, though," he answered. The excitement that had been on his face when he first showed her began to drain slightly.
"But, if you make a spectacle of it, you'll..." Laila did not want to have to explain it to him; he should already know.
"I don't care," he said in response.
"But..." Laila stuttered.
"Despite what others seem to think, I know that all you've been trying to do is protect Terus. I don't care whether you're a Magus or not. I would think you would've seen that the other day with Selene. My loyalty will always stay with you. I know you well enough..."
"I... Thank you, Dio. But I can't have you expose yourself like this. Especially since..." She stopped herself.
"Since what?"
"I have to leave, Dio. I'm not going to stay in Terus. Even if I wanted to, or could, I have...responsibilities."
Dio dropped his head. "I thought, since you came back, and Torin..."
"I know. There was a part of me that hoped that too. But I know now that I can't stay."
"I understand."
Laila smiled slightly. She felt odd. Dio had never expressed himself like this to her. He had always seemed like an older brother. Now, however... It was unfamiliar, but she appreciated the change.
They sat for a while, absorbed in their own thoughts. Laila studied the image engraved on the pot more closely. It was in the style of most Terun art, sharp lines and vague figures, but she could still recognize her likeness in the figure fending off the fire. She followed the carving of the flames across the pot to where they originated. Her mind drifted back to that day in the Consulate Hall, remembering her fight with Nuriel, the flames roaring around her. As she thought back on it, she felt an ache in her upper arm. It was the wound she had received at Grimmere from the Mander again. A light scar remained, and in times like these in particular, when she thought back to her struggle with Nuriel, it tended to ache.
She reached up and rubbed at her arm, trying to diminish the pain. As she did, she noticed something else in the image. A third person. The person stood behind Nuriel's likeness, but it was subtle. Whoever it was had been obscured by the flourishes and paint strokes that outlined the edge of the image. But Laila could still make someone out. The person was taller than Nuriel and herself, reaching almost the length of the entire carving. Laila leaned in closer, her interest piqued, as well as her fear. There was definitely someone hiding behind the edge, watching.
She spun on Dio suddenly. "Why...why did you put that in the image?"
Her sudden outburst caught Dio off guard. "I...I don't... Put what in?"
"That person, there, behind Nuriel?" Laila pointed to the obscured form.
"Nuriel?" Dio said softly, before addressing her question. He leaned in toward the image, looking for the form she was talking about. When he saw it he hummed slightly to himself. "I'm not sure. I...I don't remember putting that there. Though, thinking back on it, I got a little lost in the art. It happens sometimes. I just start carving and painting and things come out that I didn't consciously intend. Why?"
Laila thought back to her vision at Grimmere. She knew there was something darker behind Nuriel. But she had no idea what. And, for now, her task was oriented toward stopping Nuriel and protecting Terus. She wanted desperately to tell Dio, tell someone outside of her small trio of Connor and Icarus. But, in the end, she knew that telling him would not help her situation. The less he knew was probably better.
"It's just an odd thing. I didn't expect to see something so subtle in something you made," she made the comment, half-joking, trying to draw Dio's attention away from her initial shock.
"Oh, I see. So I can't be subtle in my life's calling, is that it?" Dio mocked being hurt.
"It's just not...you. You know, subtlety."
Dio lifted an eyebrow at Laila. He held her gaze for a moment, trying to be serious, before they both laughed. It was a little forced, but Laila appreciated the effort on Dio's part.
"I should get going. Connor and Father will wonder what's happened," Laila said lightly through her laughter.
Dio nodded, his own laughter fading.
As they stood, Laila took one more glance back at the pot. He had made that for her. She reached out awkwardly and put her hand on Dio's shoulder. He stopped suddenly at her touch, unsure how to respond. She looked at him intently.
"Thank you, Dio. I'm glad that I still have one true friend in Terus," she said, almost in a whisper.
Dio seemed to slump somewhat, which surprised Laila. Then he returned her gaze. "Of course, Laila. You always will."
She nodded once and followed as he led her out of the small workshop and back onto the streets, finally heading back home.
The next morning, Laila stood anxiously, waiting on the side of the main road that led to the city center from the south. Her father had told her the night before that this was the way that they would escort Torin out of the city. She had the hood of her cloak pulled up all the way over her head, forcing her to turn her head in order to see anything in her peripheral vision, but it was worth it for the small amount of anonymity it afforded her. She had slipped out of the house quietly, hoping to avoid anyone else. She knew that they would simply try to stop her. There was no reason for her to come see this. She had done her part in Torin's trial, and she could rest easy in her knowledge that he was being exiled from the city. But there was something that compelled her to see Torin's departure. She told herself it was because she wanted to know he was gone, but there was something else, an odd compulsion she had felt when calling on her power through the staff last night.
The staff itself was tucked under her cloak as well as it could be, in order to draw less attention to herself. There were others gathered around the street; apparently word of Torin's escort had made its way through the city. She leaned casually against the stone of a building on one side, keeping herself out of and away from the main crowd.
Finally, in the distance, closer to the city center, she could see a group of people moving to the south along the road. That had to be Torin. She stood up a little taller, watching silently. The group moved slowly, gathering a larger and larger crowd as it approached Laila's position. Occasionally she could hear shouts of derision come from the crowd, condemning the former Consulari. But there were also shouts of defense coming from within the moving crowd. As the group drew closer, Laila could see why.
Her father had been right. Torin had been trying to convince others to join him, and he had succeeded. A group of at least twenty people, all Citizens from their clothes, composed a smaller circle around Torin within the larger circle made up of Guardians. They were the ones who yelled back at those casting their insults at Torin.
Torin, on the other hand, walked silently, his head held high, defiant. He did not look like the disgraced former leader he was, but rather a revolutionary. From what Laila knew, she could imagine he looked like his descendant, Artus Socratis, leading hi
s people to a new way of life. Anger flared in Laila at that thought. Torin had tried to destroy her family. He had tried to shatter the old ways of the Confederacy, ways that his forefather had introduced. How could people support him in spite of that? Even with the faults that Laila had always contemplated in the Confederacy, it was still better than what Torin had tried to establish: a military state serving the purposes of one man.
The group drew closer still to Laila. Her eyes glared out from beneath her hood as Torin approached, still holding his head high, regarding the crowd that had continued to grow around him. His eyes scanned the crowd as they walked. Slowly, Laila felt his eyes rest on her. She turned her head to one side, hoping that he would not recognize her in her hood. She gripped her staff desperately, fearing that she had been recognized. A long moment passed as the crowd continued to move, and Laila felt that she had escaped his notice. Hesitantly she turned her head back to Torin, and found his eyes locked on hers.
"Ah, my accuser, come to watch my exile," Torin said. His voice was quiet, but it carried through the crowd. Those surrounding Torin, his supporters, turned their attention away from the jeering crowd and brought their attention to Laila. She wished at that moment that her abilities allowed her to mold herself backwards, into the stone of the wall behind her. She pushed herself against it, but nothing happened. She could only stand and endure the burning glares of Torin's followers.
"Guardian?" Torin said. His voice still held a commanding tone.
The Guardian that had been leading the group stoically turned to face Torin.
"May I speak with this one? Just for a moment." His question was supplicating, but his tone did not leave room for the Guardian to respond to the contrary. The Guardian nodded and motioned for one of the other Guardians to move toward Laila.
The young woman made her way through the crowd to Laila and motioned for her to follow. Laila could feel the eyes of the crowd on her now, not just Torin's followers, but the gathered group in its entirety.
"That's Alain's daughter," one whispered.
"The Magus."
"She's the one that cast down Torin."
"Do we really need the Magi though? Better that she leave too."
Laila ignored the comments and followed the Guardian. She had no other choice; she had put herself in this position, and she could not back out now. Once they reached Torin, the Guardian took a step back, placing himself just behind Laila in a protective position. Torin motioned for his followers to step back, giving the two of them space.
"A minute, Xenos. That is all," the lead Guardian said to Torin, who nodded.
"Why have you come, Magus?" Torin asked. He spoke softly, as though he were attempting to keep their conversation between the two of them. An impossible task with his followers and the Guardians so close.
"I needed to see you leave." Laila's voice was soft. "After everything that you've done, I wanted to make sure that you were really leaving this city for good." Her voice grew stronger as she spoke.
Torin nodded. That was the response he had expected from her. "Is that really why you came?"
There was something in his tone that surprised Laila. She had expected anger, defiance, outright hatred. But there was none of that in Torin's voice. It was almost...sympathetic.
"Yes," Laila finally answered.
"Ah, child. You have much to understand yet." There was the condescension. "I am only the beginning."
The second statement was said much softer, almost in a whisper.
"What do you mean?" Laila asked cautiously.
Torin studied her for a moment longer, his eyes digging into hers, searching for something.
"You will learn..." Torin's voice trailed off as he spoke, and before Laila could question him further, he turned back to the lead Guardian. "I am done. Lead on, Guardian." His tone had returned to the arrogant yet supplicating one he had been using previously.
The Guardian next to Laila led her out of the small circle surrounding Torin and left her in the crowd. The people in the crowd leaned away from her, as though fearing to touch her directly, as they moved with Torin and his followers toward the southern gate of the city. Within minutes, Laila stood alone on the road, watching the group move into the distance. She gripped her staff, finally calling to her power through it. Torin's words had been odd and foreboding. She let her power course through her, warming her against the morning cold and easing the tension from her final encounter with Torin.
Five
From the Sky
The remaining books were strewn about the table in the main room. Laila sat in front of them, staring ineffectually at the language and symbols on their pages. Icarus, who had returned that morning, paced back and forth on the other side of the table from Laila.
"You haven't been able to figure anything out?" asked Laila.
"No." Icarus answered without stopping his pacing. "The first book, the one on Earth, was different. I understand Earth magic. Even without fully understanding the language, there were things that resonated with me that I could glean information from. These," he said, waving at the four tomes in front of Laila, "do not hold the same meaning for me."
Laila could see his frustration. She had not had any more luck than he had. They did not even have an idea as to which of the books would be the best to utilize first.
"Go through the sequence again," Icarus said.
"Why?" asked Laila.
"Something has to register with you. We've talked about your instincts before. You have to trust them. They will lead you in the right direction."
Laila shook her head but reached toward the books regardless.
"These three are likely about the Prime Aspects," she said, pointing to the three in the center. They were all marked with the same silver lining that had identified the Treatise on Earth, but each of the books, the three Laila was addressing and the other four, were marked with different symbols.
"And those are?" asked Icarus, his tone shifting to one of a teacher speaking with a student.
"Logic, Faith, and Chaos," Laila answered. "Must we do this, Icarus? I had hoped to be done with my lessons after my Test."
"No, we cannot be done. You are the only one who can figure this out. It is your path."
Laila sighed. She wished Icarus could, just once, stop speaking about her “path.” It was getting old, and it was not helpful. But she held back the retort that came to her lips, biting her tongue and moving forward.
"These other four represent the remaining elements. Fire, Water, Air, and the Void." She said the last hesitantly. Her lessons as a child had never mentioned the Void, but Icarus had insisted that it was part of the list of elements, and, in fact, was the most important of the five. Laila did not understand how something that essentially represented nothingness could be so important, but...she shook her head clear of her musings. They were not important right now.
Laila picked each of the books up one at a time. "The Treatise on the Undying Flames." This one had an image that resembled a mountain, much like the Earth Treatise had, but this mountain looked broken and flames poured out of the center. "The Treatise on the Sacred Waters." The engraving on the front of this one was that of a tall waterfall. "The Treatise on the Forever Winds." This was the most abstract depiction: lines that Icarus said represented the wind were scrawled across the cover, surrounded by a series of strange symbols.
"None of which mean anything to me or you," Laila said finally.
"Still nothing?" asked Icarus.
Laila only looked at him under the edge of her eyelids.
"Nothing." Icarus answered his own question and returned to his pacing.
Connor wandered down the main road of Terus, heading toward the city center. He was not going to be gone long, as Icarus and Laila were planning to determine where they were headed and start their preparations to leave. But they had been going over the old tomes from the library in Balon, and he knew he would be no help, having neither Icarus's knowledge nor Laila's p
ower. So he had decided, as he had often over the last two months, to walk around Terus instead.
He still wore his old clothes from Custos. As much time as he had spent in the Confederacy now, he still could not give them up. They represented a part of him that he did not want to forsake, despite the fact that he could have at least blended into Terun society a little easier had he decided to don their odd robes and tunics.
Though, he thought, my hair would still be a giveaway. The men in Terus all wore their hair cut short, with no men with hair that reached even to their ears. Connor ran his hand over his ear, brushing back any stray strands of hair as he walked.
His mind drifted to Laila. He was still confused by his thoughts regarding his young companion. Icarus had ingrained it into his mind that the Warden's purpose was to protect the Magusari. Connor had certainly seen enough to know that Laila had to be the Magusari. After witnessing her abilities, there was no doubt in his mind. What he didn’t understand was why the Magusari would need his protecting. Laila certainly seemed able to take care of herself. She’d even survived after she’d stood up to the literal embodiment of Fire.
But Icarus had still repeated his same purpose since their first meeting. Since then, Connor had certainly developed a desire to protect Laila. At first he’d thought that it had been the type of protectiveness one might feel for a sibling or a parent. He had felt similarly about his mother back home. However, the more time they spent together, the more the motivation behind his protectiveness confused Connor. Meeting Dio had sparked the latest feelings of confusion, especially seeing how the Artisan interacted with Laila. He understood they had been friends for a long time, even though Dio was closer in age to Connor. But, if he was honest with himself, there was a part of Connor that felt jealous of their relationship.
Realizing what conclusion he had reached, Connor stopped for a moment. He took a deep breath, trying to expel the thoughts from his mind. They were too distracting. He shifted his focus back to the road in front of him, trying to decide instead where he might head in the city center. Still, Laila continued to pop in and out of his thoughts distractingly.
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