by Matt Russell
She might have felt frightened, except that she knew this creature was nearly as profoundly connected to Cassian as she. It was telepathic and, though little more than an infant by the standards of its own ancient race, intelligent. As it moved its scaly head level with hers, she reached out and put a hand on its nose. The scales were so rough they might have cut her hand if the dragon moved too suddenly, but it seemed to understand this about itself, and it wished her no harm.
"He has wanted to meet you for a long time," Cassian whispered. Then, with a soft chuckle, he said: "I refer to Titus as a he all the time, but that is not quite accurate." He scratched the end of the scaly beak-like nose and said: "Dragons do not have genders as we do. They reproduce from themselves alone. Still, it feels... inappropriate to refer to my incredible companion as it."
"If the creature can give birth to a child one day, would it not be more logical to refer to it as a she?" Thalice said with a smirk.
Cassian returned her smile and said: "I suppose the argument could be made. I am learning to ride her.” He stepped around the creature and rand his hand over the folded, bat-like wing on its right side. “It takes a great deal of concentration from us both. Titus's wings do not exactly carry that heavy body purely through physics. There is a great deal of magic involved, but it is primal stuff. Unlike me, this wonderful creature was born to fly."
Thalice reached to Cassian's mind for more explanation, and he allowed it without hesitation. She stepped inside his memories and experienced the way he could will his body through the air. It took enormous concentration and was quite draining to the aura inside him. The other Starborn believed Cassian's obsession with levitation was only another part of the flashy manner with which he wielded his magic. To Cassian though, it was a means through which to develop concentration and control. Ever since his power had awakened, he had strived to master it as no Starborn ever had, and his dragon provided a new means through which to develop that strength. He would make himself weightless on its back, and the two of them would traverse enormous distances together in the air.
"Run along now," Cassian whispered to Titus. "We wish to be alone." The dragon gave a strange grunt at this that sounded a bit like metal scraping against stone, and then turned and bounded toward the edge of the terrace and leaped over the side. Its enormous wings spread immediately and carried its great mass into an astonishingly smooth glide.
The moon shone down into Cassian's eyes as he turned to Thalice then. "So often I wonder what has happened to you," he said. "I can always feel you. I know when you are happy or sad, but I cannot speak to you. It is maddening at times. Can you see me? Do you try?"
"I have tried so many times," Thalice said, gazing at him. "There are countless things I would like to know about you. I also want to talk to you about—" she paused, wondering if she were being too forward. She gazed at her dear one and sensed his affection for her, and she knew she could speak to him about anything. Now just as before, there were no barriers. "I never stop worrying about the enemies that conspire to kill you.”
"Would you like to meet a few of them?" Cassian said with a soft chuckle. He gestured to the guards who blocked the doorway to the terrace. "Every one of those men has tried to assassinate me."
Thalice stared at the armed guards, some of them hulking masses of muscle, and some of them small and lithe. "You broke their minds," she whispered.
"Yes," said Cassian with a casual shrug. "I developed a technique to shatter the mind of a man and then reshape and reassemble the pieces as I see fit. It is incredibly tedious work, but it allowed me to make good use of my supposed killers rather than simply end their lives. They are loyal to me now to the point of death."
"And you see no problem in removing an individual's free will?"
Her dear one raised an eyebrow. "I know things are much different in the elven world than with my crude and lowly race. You do not often have the kind of criminals that we do." He pointed to the guards and said: "Each of those men agreed to murder a teenage boy for money. Their free will is a danger to society, and I am quite happy to remove it from them, yes. As I said, I did not kill them, nor am I making them suffer. They are calm, useful, and no longer a threat."
Thalice rolled her eyes and said: "No more than you are, I suppose."
Cassian's grin widened. She knew well how he loved to be challenged by those he respected. He would debate with her for hours on end if that were what she wished, but it was not.
"I have heard you translated the Enumis," she said softly. "You did not tell me you were going to do that."
"I do not like to discuss such things when we visit," he said in a low voice. "My time with you is one of my only refuges from all of this."
"You cannot expect me not to care about such things. Now that the common man has access to the holy scriptures in a language he can understand, the church’s authority will be diminished, which I am certain was your aim.”
“Of course it was. I have made it extremely difficult for them to lie.”
His grin made her tremble with frustration. “There must be repercussions for this act. Tell me of the danger that surrounds you now.”
Cassian grimaced a little, then muttered: "As you wish." He gazed up at the stars and whispered: "I expect a rather dramatic rise in the Nemesai Order’s efforts to rid the world of me. They already have fierce allies among the landowning nobles in the eastern farmlands because of all the things I have written denouncing slavery." There was an angry glint in his eyes as he spoke.
"And the Emperor?"
"He continues to watch, not taking a side."
"If your actions have finally provoked the church heads too far, you could be executed." she said, her voice trembling a little.
"All mortals die," he whispered. He was maddeningly calm.
Thalice bit her lip, hesitating. She had meant to say what she was about to in a more composed manner, but it seemed she could not compose herself around Cassian, and the words tumbled out: "What if you could escape being mortal?" She took his hand in her own. "It has only been done thrice since the dawn of time, but there is a way to bond the life-force of a mortal to that of an immortal. Your life could be joined to mine, and you could live as long as I, transfixed in the perfect prime of your youth." She swallowed, then whispered: "I would do this for you, because...I love you that much."
Cassian gazed at her for a long moment in silence, holding her hand. She could sense his imagination running through the possibilities of an immortal life with her, but it was weighed against a furious resolve. Then his thoughts focused into a single decision, and he said: "I am sorry, my darling." His face was grim. “If I did what you ask, I could not take the throne, for I would no longer be human.” He gazed down at the stone tile beneath his feet. “This is how I must live my life. I swore an oath on my mother's grave, and I must keep it."
Tears flowed down Thalice's cheeks. "Please," she whispered.
The calm smile returned to Cassian's face. "Existence would be so beautiful with you," he whispered. "If my life had not taken the course that it did, I would have accepted your offer in a heartbeat. Still, for the rest of my brief time, I shall have this moment with you when you offered me eternity and told me you loved me." His smile intensified. "It will be my secret comfort through all the hardships to come." He stood and gently cupped her face in his hands. "And please know that I love you more than I think I shall ever be able to love anyone else." He pulled her into a sudden, deep kiss.
Thalice could not tell how long it was until their lips parted. Never in her existence had she experienced such emotion. She only knew that a feeling of pure joy pervaded every fiber of her being, but that ecstasy was almost immediately tainted as she opened her eyes and gazed upon her one true love, who she knew was doomed to die.
Thalice moved against Cassian, resting the side of her face against his shoulder. There was nothing left to say. He had rejected her offer, as she had perhaps known deep
down that he would. Still, it hurt. She would have to leave him now to return to the quiet pleasures of her elven existence and hold a secret locked away within her heart that no other elf would understand. Thalice was not a contented immortal creature of nature. She was hopelessly and painfully in love with a mortal who believed he could overcome the world.
Chapter 3:
The Red Blanket
My brother loved to antagonize the Nemesai. The entire empire knew that he had defeated Cromlic, and that the Bishop was too afraid to go after him again on his own. Cassian's followers are quick to tout this defiance as moral character. They conveniently forget the small folk who now suffer the wrath of the Nemesai after Cassian pushed too far.
-- Telemachus Vale,
Starborn of the Nineteenth Generation
Livia cast a quick, nervous glance up at the red blanket that hung out of the second story window over the market square, and her heart gave a little flutter. She knew what it meant and immediately dropped her gaze to scan for Nemesai soldiers. The marketplace was bustling with midday activity. People were moving about, talking loudly to one another, and conducting the normal array of daily business. There was not a single Nemesai to be seen anywhere, but that did not mean that none were watching. Some in the order were sorcerers who bore no tattoos, and who could blend in and surreptitiously observe the thoughts of others. Still, the presence of the blanket sent a little thrill through her. It signaled that someone had managed to get hold of more of the writings of the infamous Cassian Asango.
"Livia!" Iona's voice came as an excited cry from the left. She turned her head and watched her sister come bounding up. Iona was clutching her rough spun sack, and it was filled with several little bulges. "They have pheasants!" she exclaimed as she darted between pedestrians. Her face was flush beneath her thick brown hair. "I'll make these tonight! You and I can have our own!"
Livia frowned and raised her left hand, palm open, and pointed to its center with her right index finger. This was one of many gestures in the silent language that she, Iona, and Hervin had developed. Iona immediately tensed and said: "Seven coppers, but…how often do they have pheasant?"
Livia rolled her eyes and opened the bag Iona clutched. There were four birds, each scarcely larger than a street rat. Iona was as bad with money as Hervin. It had probably been a mistake to allow the girl access to the family's strongbox, but then Livia could not be responsible for everything. She took in a slow breath, letting her annoyance pass away. Then she smiled at Iona and gave a little shrug. Pheasant indeed was delicious, at least when Iona cooked it.
"I should get this home," Iona said, still beaming. "Do you have anything else to do?" Livia gave a nod, and Iona said: "Alright. I'll see you later." She turned and flounced down the street. Livia noted that several young men stared surreptitiously at her sister as she went. Iona had become quite pretty in a vibrant and wild sort of way. Her ever-present glow perhaps added to this in many subtle ways. The time might come soon when men of a particular kind tried to buy her from Hervin, as many had attempted to purchase Livia over the years.
Livia shook these thoughts off. She was in the marketplace to purchase supplies for the kiln, and ink and paper for Hervin's store. She strode past the vendors, keeping her eyes away from the blanket above. Instead, Livia let them fix on the paper seller's tent down the way. It was one of the nicer tents in the square, and one of the few that employed an armed guard at all times. She gazed at the tall, heavyset man standing at the entryway. Livia had never seen him before, which meant he probably wouldn't know about her—the town mute. His right hand rested on the hilt of a curved sword in a scabbard on his belt. The man had dozens of tattoos on his hulking bear arms—not mystic tattoos like those of the Nemesai or Onkai—but crude, black depictions of snakes and eels curling around. As Livia approached, he looked her up and down slowly, and his thick lips curled into a smile that seemed hungry.
"You wish to buy paper, little slave?" he asked. Livia nodded. "Do you have money?" She pulled her coin pouch from her pocket and shook it, letting the man hear the clink. His hand shot out with surprising speed and gripped her wrist. Livia tensed, but she knew what was coming next and let it happen. She could do nothing about it, for she a slave.
The man took her purse, releasing her wrist so he could pour the coins from her pouch into his hand. He inspected them for a moment, and then slid them back in. As he extended the purse back to her, he said: "Alright, you can go in." Livia took her money back and started to walk past, but the guard hunched down so that their faces were level and said: "Who's your master, sweetheart? You're the prettiest slave I've ever seen. Do you think if I gave him a few desseks, he would let me—"
"Attillus!" a voice rang out in an angry shout from inside. A tiny man in fine white silks whom Livia knew well came stalking out with a scowl on his face. "This is Livia! She is one of my regular customers. Stop harassing her!" Septicus, the city's main paper supplier, leaped up and slapped the far larger man across the face. The massive brute drew back in shock, and Livia saw rage flash in his eyes, but Septicus was utterly unafraid. He glared up at the giant and said: "Apologize to this girl. NOW!"
The large man's lips curled up, and he took in a seething breath, then hissed through his teeth: "I apologize."
"We will speak about this later," Septicus snarled. He turned to Livia, and his creased face became serene and jovial so quickly it was almost comical. "Please come in, my dear."
She followed Septicus into the tent. As the flap closed behind them, he said: "I apologize for Attillus out there. Former soldiers sometimes take a bit of breaking in before they are fit for society."
Livia gave him a nod. She understood the need for a guard. Septicus was a small man who dealt in a fairly valuable and extremely easy to steal commodity.
She looked around the tent. Inside there were several tables with blank sheets of fresh parchment that appeared wonderfully supple. Livia had a strong preference for papyrus, which she knew Septicus kept in the wooden chests in the back of the tent. Papyrus was not as durable or long-lasting as parchment, but the latter paper had to be drawn on with ink, whereas gritty papyrus could take marks from charcoal and thus could be erased several times with a stone and a bit of hard rubbing. This made it vastly superior for accounting records, and also for Livia's own unique needs. Still, parchment written in ink was best for contracts and bills of sale over large quantities of goods as they were tricky to alter.
"You want to see the papyrus first, I assume," Septicus said.
Livia smiled and gave him a nod. Septicus brought her over to one of the large chests. As soon as he opened it, the crisp, leafy scent of the material tickled her nose and filled her with delight. She loved paper. This was an attitude that she and Septicus shared and was likely why he treated her with such friendliness despite her social status. She gazed down at the hundreds of brownish yellow sheets stacked neatly upon one another, not yet fastened to wood to make scrolls. To Livia, the simple papyrus was power—the power to communicate.
"Since it's you, my dear, I will go to two sheets a copper," Septicus said, eyeing her.
She turned and looked into his dark green eyes. The man did his best to remain calm and impassive, as most did who had had experience dealing with her. They had some idea of her powers of perception, but she doubted if any of them suspected how far that ability went. It was growing stronger all the time. As she stared at Septicus, she saw a touch of deceit mixed with his fondness for her, and a nervous calculation behind his words. There were other paper sellers in the city, and they received their shipments from the same traders. If he was apprehensive about the price, then that meant that it was not his best offer. She gazed a second longer and knew with certainty that the cost of paper had gone down.
Livia tilted her head a little and held up four fingers. Before Septicus uttered a word, she knew that four sheets a copper was too much. She judged from the level of tension that appeared in his eyes
that this was either close to or exactly the price he had paid for the paper.
Septicus coughed and said: "Now, my dear—"
Livia shook her head and spread her hands out, palms down, indicating that she had given up on that idea. She held up three fingers. Instant relief flashed in Septicus’s eyes, but not complete relief. He was hesitating. Livia shook her three fingers firmly in front of him and cast a hard stare. Septicus knew her well enough to understand that she had set her mind on this price and would not change it. It was fair, and her business was important enough to him that he would not wish to lose it.
With a sigh and a defeated slumping of shoulders, the small man muttered: "How many sheets do you want?" Livia held up three fingers and then made a fist. "Thirty it is," Septicus said with a nod. He walked over to a table where there was a clay bowl of water where he dipped his hands and then dried them with a small cloth. The man was quite religious about the way he handled his merchandise, which Livia respected. With clean hands, Septicus walked over and carefully began counting out thirty sheets, and Livia counted out ten coppers from her pouch. She placed the coins on Septicus's table, and he nodded at them and placed the sheets down, doing his best to make sure they were in a neat stack, and then he gently rolled them up. The little man then pulled one of the lengths of twine from his pocket that he always seemed to have ready and tied the bundle up and handed it to Livia. As he did, he said: "As usual, I ask you don't tell anyone the price I gave you."
She pursed her lips into a slight smile and pointed to them, raising her eyebrows as if to say: I cannot speak. Remember?
"Have a fine day, my dear," the man said with a nod.
Livia nodded and turned around and passed back out through the tent's entry. The large, tattooed man's eyes fixed on her immediately. She felt them travel unabashedly up and down her body, lingering in places they should not. She suppressed the urge to slap him and broke into a brisk walk, but she slowed her pace after a dozen steps, not wanting to let the man think he had flustered her too much.