by J B Drake
“Anise has a solution,” Baern said.
“Oh?”
Anise nodded. “Me.”
“You…what?” Mardaley frowned.
“I go instead of Drake.”
“What?” Mardaley and Anieszirel exclaimed in unison.
“You what?” Marshalla added.
“Hear her out,” Baern pleaded before any more words were said.
“I’m not going anywhere with her,” Marshalla declared, her eyes ablaze.
“Marsha, listen—” Baern began.
“I’m not going anywhere with her, Baern.”
“Hear her out,” Baern replied. “That is all I ask. Hear her out first, then decide what you will or will not do. Or is your intent to put your emotions above Tip’s safety?”
Marshalla moved to speak, a sharp rebuke upon her tongue, but at the last moment, she bit it back and glowered at Baern instead.
“So go on, then,” Anieszirel said. “Tell us why sending you is a better idea.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Anise asked. “Whoever sees Marsha and I will think nothing of it. We are known to keep each other’s company after all.”
“Except one of our rumours has put paid to that,” Anieszirel pointed out. “If Naeve finds out you two have ventured off to a place like Fa’aldurn, she’ll be scratching her head trying to make sense of why two people who hate each other would go to a place like that.”
“Yes, well, we won’t be going inside the—”
“You know what I mean.”
Anise grinned at the chronodragon.
“In any case,” she continued, picking up her spoon, “the answer to that little problem is simple. Our necromancers in Kirsk often send missives on the creatures they learn about in the Marsh. They’re rather persistent, and have been trying for years to convince Daniton that some can make excellent familiars. So, now that I’ve taken over from Daniton, I’ve decided to hear them out in person, and I’ve taken Marsha with me. And if we learn nothing in Kirsk, we’ll head to the next town on the same pretext.”
As the last of her words tumbled from her lips, Anise lifted her spoon to her lips. But as she closed her lips about it, she stopped, frozen in place. Slowly, she sat up straight as her taste buds were tickled and teased, the herbs and spices in her mouth lifting them to heights of pleasure she could scarcely remember ever reaching.
“Ooh,” she quivered as she swallowed.
“Good?” Maline asked.
With eyes going wide, Anise turned to Maline. “You made this?”
Maline nodded, a slight worried frown upon her lips. “You like, then? Not too hot?”
“No,” Anise shook her head as she stared at her plate.
“Gods, no!” she added, then proceeded to shovel as much as she could into her mouth.
The others watched her in silence, most with a knowing smile upon their lips.
“Mmh,” she mumbled at last, then noticed everyone staring.
“Uhm,” she managed, before chewing and swallowing.
“Uhm,” she repeated once more, then turned to Mardaley. “What were we saying?”
“You were talking about how you’d be taking Marsha with you to Kirsk,” Anieszirel replied.
“Right!” Anise exclaimed. “Everyone knows how hard Marsha works looking after our familiars, so there should be little reason to doubt us.”
“It’s weak all the same, Anise,” Mardaley said.
Anise shrugged as she turned to the storekeeper. “Still better than the hand you’re playing.”
“No, it’s not. Naeve will need to sanction the excursion. With Daniton indisposed, she won’t risk you leaving and the Pens descending into chaos.”
“It’s…” Anise began, then fell silent. She knew Mardaley had a point.
“It’s still a better hand than we’ve got,” Baern said.
“Perhaps,” Mardaley sighed, “but Naeve will never approve.”
“She might,” Baern insisted. “If we present it in a manner that—”
Mardaley turned to his friend square. “Have you forgotten how much resistance you and Naeve came up against trying to convince your precious Tower to champion the learning of necromancy? Do you truly think Naeve will want to reopen old wounds by allowing creatures tainted by necromancy wander the Summoner Pens?”
“Ah, damn it all,” Baern sighed, “you’re right, of course you are.”
“But Baern—” Anise began.
“No, Anise.” Baern shook his head. “Let’s not fool ourselves. We’ll need another reason.”
Sighing, the downcast Magister slumped back in his chair, but then immediately sat bolt upright. Staring at Anise, he paused, as if weighing his words.
“What is it?” Anise frowned.
“Well…” he replied, “what if we change the reason for your going to Kirsk?”
Anise’s frown deepened. “What other reason would I have to go to there? It’s an outpost town, there’s precious little else there.”
“Arenya settled there,” Baern replied.
An awkward silence fell upon the room as all eyes turned to Anise.
“You wish me to go visit Arenya,” Anise said, her tone one of unnatural calm.
“Yes,” Baern nodded. “Your rift with Marsha’s forced you to take stock of what you hold dear, and you’re looking to close two rifts with one excursion.”
“That just might work.” Mardaley mused. “She’s been there for some time now, more than enough to learn the town’s gossip.”
“That woman wouldn’t know gossip if it jumped up and bit her arse,” Anise growled.
“And Eldred?” Anieszirel asked. “The boy is extraordinarily attentive. He must’ve learnt a thing or two by now.”
“Eldred?” Marshalla exclaimed. “That idiot?”
“That boy is no idiot,” Baern sdaid. “Not all the time anyway. Problem is, only the gods know when he’s pretending, and when he truly is being an idiot.”
“The choice is yours, though,” Mardaley added, facing Anise square. “What say you?”
Anise said nothing.
“You’re supposed to say something, girl,” Anieszirel said when the silence became oppressive.
“What if we find nothing?”
“If you find nothing in Kirsk,” Mardaley replied, “chances are good Arenya or Eldred would’ve learnt something of note to focus your search. And as for pretext, you and Marshalla become filled with a wanderlust and decide to see the surrounding cities for yourselves.”
In response, Anise stared at the storekeeper, but her lips remained unmoving.
“You were expecting Marsha to put her hatred of you aside for the sake of this task,” Anieszirel said, “and yet you hesitate when Baern asks you to make the same sacrifice. Truly?”
Gritting her teeth, Anise stared at the table a spell.
“Very well,” she said at last as she stared first at Anieszirel then at Mardaley. “I’m taking Marsha with me to see Arenya.”
“Good,” Mardaley replied as he picked up the bottle. “I’m sure the two of you will have a lot to talk about on your journey there.”
“Three,” Marshalla said. “Gray’s coming.”
“That is a bad idea,” Anise replied.
“It’s not up to you!” Marshalla snapped.
“Marsha, if Gray comes, she will have to endure endless children running up to her and pulling her tail. She’d be faced with scores and scores of dogs barking and snapping at her. Do you truly think she’ll be able to keep her composure through all that?”
Marshalla shrugged. “If they’re stupid enough to taunt a panther, they deserve what they get.”
“Except any pain she inflicts, the whole town will look to inflict upon her a hundredfold. And us.”
But Marshalla remained unswayed. “Gray’ll behave.”
“She won’t, Marsha,” Mardaley replied, “Anise has a point.”
Marshalla shook her head at this. “I can’t leave her behind, she’ll go
spare.”
“She’s calm around Kasha,” Mardaley replied. “Perhaps some time with Kasha and Drake would do her good.”
Marshalla glared at the storekeeper a spell, but it was clear she wasn’t going to win the fight.
“Very well,” she muttered at last.
“Good,” Mardaley nodded.
“It’s still three, though,” Anieszirel added.
All eyes turned to the chronodragon.
“What?”
“Who’s the third?” Baern asked. “You?”
Anieszirel smirked. “Who else?”
“You do know Tip is in no fit state to travel, don’t you?” Anise frowned.
“Oh!” Anieszirel exclaimed, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Oh my! Whatever will I do?”
“Funny,” Anise snarled, eliciting a chuckle from the chronodragon.
“But really though,” Marshalla said. “How do you intend to travel with us? Tip can’t come.”
“Ah,” Anieszirel smiled, “Tip’s not in this room though, is he? And yet, here I am.”
“Tip is only a few rooms away,” Baern replied, frowning. “Kirsk is miles from here. You mean to say you can project yourself that far from your host?”
Anieszirel’s smile grew. “It never ceases to amaze me how confident you Tower mages are in your knowledge, and yet how limited your knowledge truly is.”
Then, she turned to Marshalla, her smile taking a most mischievous turn. “I will need an anchor, though, else maintaining my presence at such a distance will prove…draining.”
Marshalla backed away from the chronodragon. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Anieszirel’s smile grew.
“Ani…”
“Yes, dear?”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking, no.”
“Oh, hush you. It’s mostly painless.”
“Mostly?”
“Yes, mostly.”
“How mostly is mostly.”
“Well, you probably won’t be driven mad by the pain.”
“What?”
Anieszirel laughed. “Oh, my dear, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”
“This isn’t funny, Ani!”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Ani!”
“It won’t hurt, alright? Upon my honour! It just means you might…might…feel a little more tired than usual sometimes.”
Marshalla glared at the chronodragon for a spell.
“Fine, then,” she muttered at last, then slouched in her chair.
“Excellent!” Anieszirel exclaimed before turning to Mardaley and Baern.
“Why do you wish to go?” Mardaley asked. “Do you not trust Marsha and Anise to see the job done?”
The smile upon the chronodragon’s lips faded as she held the storekeeper in a most serious frown.
“Trust has nothing to do with it,” she said.
“Then, why go?”
“Whoever this demon is,” Anieszirel growled, “Tien’razul or some other mad dog, it’s hurt Tip in a way I cannot explain. I need to see what’s been done to him, Mardaley, I need to see it with my own eyes.”
Mardaley frowned. “You care for the boy greatly.”
An open snarl parted the chronodragon’s lips. “You make it sound like a sin.”
Smiling, Mardaley shook his head. “Good heavens, no, it’s just I’d never imagine the Kin-Slayer caring so much for her vessel.”
Anieszirel fell silent at this.
“Tip her baby, Mardaley,” Maline grinned.
“I’d say so,” Marshalla added.
“Oh, shut it.” Anieszirel growled. “Both of you.”
In response, Maline and Marshalla shared a giggle, but said nothing more.
“I suppose it’s settled, then,” Mardaley said at last.
“It seems so,” Baern added.
“Good!” Maline exclaimed before staring at Baern. “Now eat up, you! Not going to stay warm forever.”
“Ah, yes,” Baern said as he stared at his plate. Then, he turned to the bottle that was still in Mardaley’s hand.
“Do you think we could…?” he said as he gestured to the bottle.
“Hrm?” Mardaley frowned, dropping his gaze to where his friend had gestured.
“Oh, yes!” he exclaimed as he sat upright.
Opening the bottle, he poured the wine into the two glasses before him with a reverence few of those gathered had seen from him. Then, offering a glass to Baern, he picked up the other. Both men stared at each other, their eyes wide and bright as the others looked on.
“Cheers,” Baern said before licking his lips and raising his glass to his lips.
“Cheers,” Mardaley replied in much the same manner.
As one, both emptied the contents of their glasses, and as one, they sighed with complete contentment.
“Pure bliss,” Mardaley muttered.
“And more,” Baern added.
“Men,” Maline muttered before rising and marching over to Baern.
“What’re you—“ Baern began as Maline picked up his plate.
“You have it once you done with your drinking,” she said before picking up Mardaley’s plate and heading over to the counter.
The two men stared at each other. Then, shrugging, Mardaley filled both glasses.
“Cheers!” they cried in unison, and supped on their drinks once more as the rest stared on in utter bemusement.
Unseen Allies
With a deep sigh, Naeve leant into her chair and closed her eyes. There was a broad smile upon her lips, and her sigh one of contentment. Opening her eyes, she stared at the cup in her hand. Chamomile, it was a word that felt foreign to her tongue, even after all this time, but it bore a taste that caressed her tongue in a manner she’d thought no human tea ever could.
“Gods, I needed that,” she said as she raised the cup to her lips once more.
In truth it was a far harsher taste than her elven blends, but on a day like she’d had, it was all she’d thought of, and as she sipped, she could feel the knots in her shoulders loosen already.
Sighing once more, the contented Matriarch leant into her chair as she prepared to take another sip.
Just then, a knock came at the door.
“Oh, gods.” Naeve growled as she turned to the door. She hadn’t even been gone that long.
The knock came again.
Fighting back her disdain, the Matriarch sat straight, her eyes upon the door still.
“Come,” she ordered as she placed her cup and saucer upon the tray before her.
“Forgive my intrusion, Matriarch,” said Archmage Anise Fairweather as she entered, “but there is a matter I must speak with you about.”
Naeve held the woman in silent regard as the events of their previous encounter unfolded in her mind’s eye. But unlike their previous encounter, the Anise before her was calm, as if nothing was awry. It was enough to set her teeth on edge.
“Is all well, Anise?” she said.
“Matriarch?” Anise frowned.
“Yesterday, you couldn’t wait to leave my office, and yet here you are, talking to me as if the events of yesterday never happened.”
The Archmage lowered her gaze and fidgeted where she stood.
“Is all well?”
Nodding, Anise stared at her Matriarch, a smile upon her lips. “All is well, Matriarch.”
Naeve didn’t believe her. She knew the woman before her, and after what had been said the day before, her world would’ve come crumbling down around her. Unless…
“This matter you wish to talk about,” Naeve said, “is it about what you asked me yesterday?”
Anise took a deep breath and nodded as she let it out.
“Ah,” Naeve replied, then gestured to the seat across from her table as she rose.
Walking over to her cabinet, the Matriarch retrieved a second cup and saucer, and as she wandered back to her chair she smiled at the seated Archmage.
“Now, I kno
w you’re not overly fond of tea, but you must try this blend.”
Smiling, Anise stared at her Matriarch. “Never will I get used to seeing you so particular about tea.”
Naeve’s smile widened. “We all have our vices.”
“It’s not another dwarven blend, though, is it?” Anise said, her worry plain.
“No,” the Matriarch grinned, “it’s a human one.”
“Human?”
Naeve nodded.
“But their teas are weak.”
“Not this one,” Naeve replied as she placed the cup and saucer before her guest, then sat.
“Now,” Naeve said as she filled Anise’s cup, “what’s on your mind, Anise?”
Anise took another deep breath and sat up straight.
“First,” she said, “I must thank you for defending my parents yesterday…”
As Anise spoke, Naeve watched her with great care while keeping a firm grip on the smile upon her own lips. Their last encounter had ended badly, and Naeve was determined to ensure this wouldn’t follow suit.
“…and you were right. Those were difficult times, for everyone, and I have nobody to blame but myself.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, child,” Naeve replied as she placed the teapot back upon the table.
“Thank you, Matriarch,” Anise said as she picked up her cup, “but it’s the truth. I tried to kill Arenya, my own sister. I know, she was being vile and contemptible, but I’m the elder, it was up to me to close the rift between us, and instead I just…widened it. Had I done what I was supposed to do, what it was my duty to do, much of what happened after would never have happened. I see that now, and I wish to make amends.”
Naeve cast a sideways glance at the woman as she picked up her cup.
“Make amends, you say?” Naeve said.
Anise nodded. “Yes. I’d like to visit Arenya. I’m under no illusion that what she did was spawned from her hatred of me, so, in a way, I’m partly to blame for where she finds herself now. I’d like to close this rift between us once and for all.”
Naeve leant into her chair as her gaze remained unwavering upon the Archmage.
“Moving words, my dear,” she said.
“Smiling, Anise nodded. “Thank you, Matriarch.”
“Hrm,” Naeve nodded too as she raised her cup to her lips.
As Naeve sipped, however, she found herself glad she’d kept such a tight leash upon her smile, else her disdain would’ve been plain for Anise to see. To be lied to so brazenly was something that always boiled her blood. Rift? Forgiveness? The Anise Fairweather she knew did not forgive so easily, especially after the myriad evils Arenya had visited upon her over the years. No, even without Arenya’s complicity in her nearly losing her life, the rift between her and Arenya was a chasm, and one the Anise Fairweather she knew would never think to close, not even with a knife at her throat.
