Amdirlain’s PoV - Outlands - Outpost of the Monastery of the Western Reaches
While answering questions about the monastery from Rainith and Nordil, Amdirlain held out the memory crystals with the worlds’ songs to Roher and Laleither.
“The songs for a planet’s life?” questioned Roher.
“The songs used to create life on several planets. Each crystal holds the details for one planet,” corrected Amdirlain.
Neither moved to take the crystals, and Amdirlain froze her arm as a sudden bout of self-doubt struck. Laleither cleared her throat nervously, and Roher squeezed her hand before collecting the crystals from Amdirlain. They acted as though they were being handed the keys to a kingdom and regarded them with a hushed reverence. Roher offered Laleither the first choice of a crystal to examine before attuning his mind to another.
Though Lospen initially played the silent older brother supervising his siblings, when Roher set a crystal aside, he got his parents’ permission to review it. The complexity of the layered compositions within the crystal soon had him struggling to understand more than mere fragments of the melodies.
“May I ask questions, Am?” enquired Lospen, looking up from the crystal.
Amdirlain nodded to his parents. “Your questions will need to be answered by your folks. I just got the details of the composition from the orrery. They’ll be able to put it in a Lómë context.”
Laleither beckoned him to pass the crystal. “Which song were you curious about?”
When the discussion started on the composition, Nordil fidgeted, so Sarah spun diamonds and onyx into a three-dimensional game board. Eight large platforms surrounding a central one, she positioned four hundred pieces for each player along the upper platforms. The nine oversized chess boards made an impressive array.
“What are the figures on the platforms for?” asked Nordil.
“It’s a game dragons play. If you’d like, I can teach you,” Sarah offered. “You might find it interesting.”
It’ll be simple because he has a crazy high IQ. How do Roher and Laleither cope with the three of them? Or is it simple when you’ve also got a Class-enhanced IQ atop a species one?
“Okay,” agreed Nordil cheerfully, and he slid off his chair to look over the pieces.
A shift in the theme near the outer fields signalled Gail’s arrival, before she blurred up the mountain. Rather than a Wood Elf form, as Amdirlain had seen her recently, Gail was currently in her platinum-haired Anar form.
Amdirlain tapped Rainith’s nose to catch her attention. “Do you want to come downstairs and greet Gail with me? We can plant your gift.”
Rainith looked ready to decline but stood when Amdirlain collected the rose from the table.
What’s on her mind? I don’t think it would be a typical childish concern, yet despite their intellectual development, their emotional development is far behind. I guess I have that in common with them. Anyway, I shouldn’t just ask her to spill.
By the time they reached the front door, Gail was already swooping towards the courtyard. Amdirlain set the pot near the veranda railing and moved down onto the flagstones.
Gail landed and raced forward excitedly to catch Amdirlain in a hug. “Hi Auntie, I’m back again.”
“Why are you acting like you’ve not seen me in weeks?”
“No, I’m just so happy that it’s all done. I’m not sure I would have found all of them without the surveyors,” gushed Gail. The cheerful facade layered over grief beneath the surface.
What went wrong?
With Rainith nearby, Amdirlain returned Gail’s hug without digging for information. “You did well, but I’m sure that it will feel like a dream for a time.”
“Their music was horrible,” declared Rainith.
Amdirlain glanced at Rainith in concern. “When did you hear them?”
“Not a living one, but the themes in their blood were bad enough,” advised Rainith.
Thank goodness that was all she’d heard; their physical nature was distorted enough.
“I’m sorry I didn’t clean up better before I returned after that fight,” said Gail.
Amdirlain smiled. “I’m not the only one caught out by someone’s hearing.”
“Are you ever going to tell me how they came about?” begged Gail, clasping her hands together in front of her.
“Is there a need now?” countered Amdirlain
Gail frowned. “I guess not, but it bugs me not to know.”
“No one knows everything, not even Gideon,” replied Amdirlain.
“They have blank spots in their knowledge?” Gail asked incredulously. “I was under the impression that wasn’t possible.”
Amdirlain pretended to zip her lips shut.
Gail rolled her eyes and crouched before Rainith. “Can I get a hug as well?”
“I suppose,” drawled Rainith. Respect and frustration rippled around in the girl, but neither Gail nor Amdirlain reacted.
When Gail’s arms enfolded her, the painful notes from both washed away.
All is not well in paradise. Is it the ratio of Anar to Lómë? Or that Gail grew up faster than normal for children of Mortal parentage?
“Let’s go inside and catch up with the others,” proposed Gail. “I know Amdirlain has afternoon lessons scheduled.”
That news caused Rainith’s eyes to flare wide, and she squirmed uncomfortably in Gail’s arms, quick notes trumpeted in her theme. “Can I have a word with Am, please? I know you can hear from further than me, but please pretend you can’t for a bit.”
“I can conceal a conversation if you wish, Rainith,” advised Amdirlain.
Rainith bit her lip and nodded frantically.
“Okay,” replied Gail, releasing Rainith with a gentle stroke of her hair. “I’ll be inside if you want to talk later.”
Gail barely got two steps before Amdirlain wrapped Rainith and herself in a barrier that cut out all sound for Rainith and would stop others from hearing their words.
“What’s wrong?”
Rainith glanced at Gail’s retreating form and scuffed the toes of her boot back and forth across a flagstone.
“I’m sure this will sound silly,” muttered Rainith nervously.
“Why do you say that?” asked Amdirlain, and she knelt so that her gaze would be level with Rainith’s.
Rainith waved her hands out to either side. “Even before today, I knew others had it far worse than I did. On the way here, I listened to the people working the fields and the children younger than me doing labour I’ve never had to.”
“That doesn’t make your concerns any less important to you,” Amdirlain said. “I take it this is something you wanted to ask me about before you got here?”
“Yes,” exhaled Rainith. She stepped closer to Amdirlain and fiddled with the cloth across her shoulder. “Nordil is right. You’re so quiet that I can’t even hear your clothing.”
“Is not hearing things part of the issue?”
A run of spiked notes bounced about in Rainith. “Did Father say something?”
“No,” reassured Amdirlain. “The only tales I’ve heard about you and your siblings were regarding games and your interactions with the forest creatures.”
“I feel cut off,” groaned Rainith softly.
“In what way?”
“Nordil can hear all the songs performed about us, but I’m missing so much,” Rainith muttered, her shoulders slumping. “I can hear things afterwards, but often when they sing them into existence, the notes drop into this inaudible thrum.”
She can’t hear the entire Lómë octave range.
“That makes complete sense,” said Amdirlain. “You can hear the others singing, and then it might suddenly cut out, only to return a moment later?”
“Exactly!” exclaimed Rainith. Her excitement made her eyes glow brighter, and she clung to Amdirlain’s shoulder.
“You know why, right?” questioned Amdirlain.
“It is the nature of our True Song that makes it different from the Lómë’s ability,” nodded Rainith. “But that still doesn’t lessen the feeling of being an outcast in the family. Nordil or Lospen will ask questions about music I can’t even hear, so it rubs my nose in it every time! I’m different!”
“Do the other Anar children feel this way?”
“Most are too young for it to bother them yet,” Rainith replied. “Aside from Gail, I’m the oldest Anar. Since you say you’re not one, Isa also technically isn’t one either.”
“What would you like me to do?” Amdirlain asked, brushing a loose strand of Rainith’s hair from her eyes.
“Can we come to listen to your songs occasionally?” questioned Rainith.
“We?”
Rainith nodded. “It wouldn’t be right for me to ask for that privilege alone. They might not want it yet, but I’m sure the younger ones will one day.”
“We can look into it,” said Amdirlain. “Have you asked Gail for time to hear her sing?”
“Gail doesn’t live in the forest, and she so often frustrates me,” Rainith replied. “I know that she’s aware of my feelings. We can talk for a while, but she’ll start to prattle on about something, and I get frustrated.”
“Why does Gail annoy you?”
“It’s not that she annoys me, but she frustrates me. The way she’s too positive about people. I want to scream when she talks so cheerfully about people I think are taking advantage of her,” grumbled Rainith. “People aren’t as nice as Gail makes out. They’re so often selfish. Father gets people to do things by appealing to their self-interest or reminding them of dangers that haven’t disappeared. Even some of the ‘enlightened’ monastery people visiting us are looking for profit or aid to learn about themselves rather than help others.”
“You’ve been listening to the monks’ music?”
Rainith nodded. “It’s not only their themes but their expressions and body language. Sometimes, I feel that the more composed someone is, the more likely they hide their true feelings.”
“Sometimes people hide their feelings because they don’t want to worry others or because it’s not their business,” offered Amdirlain. “Are you trying to hide your feeling of isolation from your parents?”
“I’ve told Mother, and I’m sure she spoke to Father,” protested Rainith. “I didn’t want to discuss it with Lospen or upset Nordil.”
“What about Erwarth?” asked Amdirlain.
“She’s a Celestial, and it wouldn’t matter since she can’t hear the Anar side of True Song,” huffed Rainith. “And she is always taking Gailneth’s side.”
Oh?
Amdirlain patted a spot beside her, and Rainith sat without complaint, wrapping her arms around her knees.
“Always?”
Rainith shrugged. “I know Gailneth’s busy, and there are lots of lives she’s trying to improve.”
“So Erwarth points out the impact of the work Gail’s doing and expects that to be enough?” asked Amdirlain.
Rainith sighed. “I told you it would seem silly.”
“But there is only one Anar who you can count on to share her True Song,” offered Amdirlain.
“Yeah, Isa is always bouncing about, and she’s more erratic than Gailneth,” groaned Rainith. She seized the step’s edge in a white-knuckled grip and leaned forward, not wanting to meet Amdirlain’s gaze.
“Do you think many people can do what Gail is working on?” Amdirlain asked, lightly tapping Rainith on the nose.
Rainith cheekily crossed her eyes and stuck out her tongue.
“Well?”
“I know she’s already hired a bunch of people to care for things,” said Rainith. “When she’s not off killing gnarls, she’s meddling in politics.”
Amdirlain motioned her to continue. “Meddling?”
“None of the countries whose policies she’s trying to change have anyone she’s related to living in them,” observed Rainith. “When you have no personal stake in a situation but want to overrule the locals, isn’t it meddling?”
“I guess I’m also a meddler,” commented Amdirlain
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
“You didn’t change the Lómë’s politics. You just helped free them,” rebuffed Rainith.
“I made my view on multiple topics known to people, which had quite an influence,” countered Amdirlain. “I also overthrew a government.”
“On Qil Tris?” Rainith enquired, lifting her gaze to meet Amdirlain’s.
This isn’t like talking to a child. Has Roher been telling tales?
“Your dad told you?”
“I overheard. You overthrew a government that had repeatedly sent people to kidnap you, and then tried to kill you. That isn’t meddling,” argued Rainith. “Especially since you had refused to involve yourself previously, and then they killed others. Is talking to me weird?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Isa says it’s taking her time to get used to our perspective,” explained Rainith. “Which I figured meant she finds talking to us weird.”
“Human children don’t learn as fast,” said Amdirlain. “Listening closely to the Human children around here might give you a perspective on what Isa is used to expecting.”
Rainith frowned. “You knew Gail in her past life, didn’t you? When you were a Human, right?”
Her public mind offered the barest skeleton of facts that Roher had shared with them.
“Does that matter?”
“I thought it might explain Erwarth’s support of her. Did you know me in any past lives?” Rainith asked, suddenly curious.
Where did that come from?
Amdirlain blinked. “Some. We seem to have had significant interactions in at least eight incarnations.”
“How can you tell?” asked Rainith excitedly.
“I listened to your Soul, and it stirred up some of my memories,” explained Amdirlain.
“Oh,” breathed Rainith. “Were they good memories?”
“Some were,” hedged Amdirlain diplomatically.
Rainith scrunched up her nose. “That was a diplomatic answer for most weren’t.”
She sure can read between the lines fine.
“Some is not most. There were a couple of bitter events during our past lives, but some friendships as well,” countered Amdirlain. “None of those lives were you, though, so I’m not holding any of those against you, Rainith.”
She let out a sigh of relief and smiled at Amdirlain. “I was worried.”
“Your dad told me about your pet fawn,” offered Amdirlain, looking to change the subject.
“He’s not a pet. We just got him unstuck,” Rainith objected. “Are you changing the subject?”
I’ll use it to make my point since she doesn’t want a casual conversation.
“If you had known that fawn had been a tiger that had eaten you in a past life, would you still have rescued it?” Amdirlain questioned.
“You’re using our rescue as an analogy. I guess that’s fair. Even though animals don’t have souls for reincarnation, I’d still have rescued it. The poor thing was terrified, and its parents couldn’t get it unstuck,” replied Rainith. “Since it was suffering, and we were present with the ability to help, meddling was the right thing to do.”
“You’re pretty focused on the term meddling. Gail has heard the suffering of people without enough food or from being enslaved. Isn’t that equally worthy of meddling?”
Rainith huffed. “The fawn didn’t have enough intelligence to get itself out of trouble, and people have more options.”
“Sometimes people don’t have the resources to take advantage of their options, even if they have enough intelligence to see them. It’s easy to say they do, but societal pressures, fear, and a lack of examples can keep them stuck in a rut. Gail’s meddling is smoothing the way for changes to occur,” explained Amdirlain. “The Lómë were stuck because of an Oath sworn by their royalty, and they were far more powerful than the people Gail is looking to help. I’m stuck, and you said you wanted to help me. I’m also not related to the Lómë. Should I have not meddled? Isn’t your desire to help me also meddling?”
Rainith paused with her mouth open to argue. Her theme clashed with conflicting emotions.
“There is rarely an easy answer with social change, Rainith,” continued Amdirlain. “Gail started helping those people before you were born and before the Lómë were free. Should the work stop now, when Gail has friends among the people of the kingdoms, because you’re also in need?”
“You say that like I don’t need something,” critiqued Rainith, shoulders slumping.
“No, I agree you have needs and, unfortunately, meeting them is going to be difficult because there are so few Anar,” replied Amdirlain. “It doesn’t invalidate them, but Gail is trying to help millions establish better infrastructure and institutions for future generations.”
“I know,” sighed Rainith
Amdirlain rubbed her back gently, and Rainith leaned into her touch. “Sometimes it’s not what you have that makes you stronger but what you’ve lived through or without and still found the strength to overcome. Have you met any Human children you’d prefer Gail not to meddle in helping? Or any of the elven children?”
“No,” muttered Rainith. “We’re not supposed to go near them because of the damaging implications for their societies.”
“They can’t hear any of the True Song, so they’re cut off more than you are,” observed Amdirlain. “Have you asked Gail what meddling she is doing?”
“Trying to get the Adventurers’ Guild to change and influence kingdoms to get rid of slavery,” recited Rainith, her tone bland. “Plus, she’s getting communities to build better roads between them.”
Gail’s infrastructure projects involve more than just roads.
Her dry recitation earned a slow nod from Amdirlain. “Do you know what slavery is?”
The word rang through Rainith, and Amdirlain heard her pick up on the extra inflections her personal experience involved.
Fuck, she has Universal Communication already?
“I thought it was when someone has control over what another person does,” Rainith replied; a tight frown appeared, and her brow wrinkled in confusion. “It’s not, is it?”
“Not just that, it’s far worse, Rainith,” advised Amdirlain. “I think your misunderstandings contribute to your frustration with Gail. You can hear the meaning of things and concepts get pulled in with the music, but you don’t go deep enough. Maybe ask Gail how they got deeper concepts from the music she heard. Things might make more sense once you’ve picked up the trick, but be careful what concepts you explore until you’re older.”
Another factor is Gail’s Class Solar Emissary. I disagree with how tolerant she can be of arseholes, but she can hear their pain and lets them rant when they’re not attacking anyone but her.
“When you repeated the word slavery, it had a lot more depth,” admitted Rainith. “I don’t understand why.”
“Our talent with language is called Universal Communication, and it provides a translation from the originator’s perspective, be it written or spoken,” Amdirlain advised. “But it depends upon who is communicating with you. If they’re someone who doesn’t possess an in-depth understanding, information will not come through in the conversation.”
Rainith shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, clinging to the unravelling meanings she was exploring. “I’m sorry.”
“I can hear you digging for more meaning in those melodies. Let it go,” instructed Amdirlain.
“I’m sorry,” repeated Rainith in a near whisper.
“Rainith, you’ve nothing to be sorry for,” said Amdirlain, gently hugging the girl. “I should have been more careful, but I didn’t realise you had gained that ability yet.”
“I didn’t mess up?” asked Rainith quietly.
Amdirlain brows furrowed. “Your folks don’t give you trouble about messing up, do they?”
“No, but some elders get loud about children being into things they shouldn’t,” advised Rainith.
Disgusted, Amdirlain blew a raspberry, and Rainith blinked in surprise. “That sounded like it was rude.”
“That’s because it was,” laughed Amdirlain. “They need to let children be children. The wood elves let children play and enjoy their lives but supervise from a distance to ensure no one gets injured.”
“Mother’s like that, but it depends on who looks after us when she’s busy. Some of the community are more relaxed than others when looking after the children,” explained Rainith.
“Bah to the grumpy ones,” said Amdirlain. “If they don’t enjoy looking after children, they should let someone who does love it handle the responsibility.”
Rainith snorted. “It’s part of ensuring they instil discipline in us, and they can’t just let us run wild day after day.”
I want to smack some people. I’d better change the subject.
“Let’s talk about your request. Why did you want to hear me singing?”
Rainith let out a sharp exhalation and scrubbed at her face. “Sometimes I feel defective because I can’t hear what others are singing. I can hear the beauty of whatever they’ve created afterwards, but I can’t hear the process.”
“Do you want to hear me sing so you know there is hope to create beauty?” asked Amdirlain.
“Yes, exactly that.” breathed Rainith.
“Yet you’d rather hang onto your dislike of Gail than ask her to help,” Amdirlain asked.
“It’s not dislike; it’s frustration,” Rainith corrected. “I like her despite her weirdness sometimes, so her behaviour frustrates me. She needs to stop letting them use her.”
“What about her is weird?”
“Seeing the good in everyone,” huffed Rainith. “I already told you that, Am.”
“That’s the only thing about her you find weird?”
Rainith nodded firmly.
Amdirlain smiled. “Then who knows, maybe in a few years, you might grow to be friends.”
“People take advantage of her. Who’d want to be friends with someone who would let themselves get used and likely drag you into the mess?” huffed Rainith, and a frustrated frown tightened her mouth.
The door to the training hall opened, and Laleither stepped out.
“Maybe you get your protectiveness from your Mother,” offered Amdirlain. “Are you okay if I expand the concealment to include her in the conversation?”
“That’s fine. I didn’t want Nordil to overhear,” allowed Rainith, and she turned to beckon Laleither closer.
Laleither sat on the other side of Rainith and wrapped an arm around her. “I hope I didn’t come down too soon.”
“Have you come to supervise, Mother?” asked Rainith suspiciously.
Gently rubbing her daughter’s arm, Laleither smiled reassuringly. “I’m here for you, dear. Keeping you company isn’t supervising, is it?”
“I guess not,” allowed Rainith.
Amdirlain retrieved a memory crystal and handed it over to Rainith. “Record what you hear in this. Then you can share it with others or review it yourself to consider the moment uninfluenced by emotions.”
“What are you going to sing?’
“First, I’ll make a proper home for your gift,” said Amdirlain as she retrieved the flower pot from the veranda. “Then I’ll make some toys.”
“What sort of toys?”
“Constructs to help celestials get combat experience. I could also see if your mother will lend a hand, and we can make some True Song Crystal together,” proposed Amdirlain. “Though I could make some normal toys.”
Rainith looked uncertain and looked up at her mother, nervously chewing her bottom lip.
Laleither leaned over and kissed the top of Rainith’s head. “What would you like?”
The uncertainty disappeared from her expression, and Rainith turned back to Amdirlain. “I’d like to hear some complex Anar True Song. Mother’s notes fading out won’t help.”
“That’s fair. I’ll do the garden, and then we’ll head inside and create the constructs slowly so you can hear them,” explained Amdirlain.
The first song was a melody to create another bordered garden bed near the front fence filled with soil that matched the sample in the pot. With that done, it was a simple matter to replant the miniature rose bush and ensure its health.
Amdirlain smiled and nodded at the lonely rose bush. “Should I duplicate your gift to create a hedge when they’re fully grown or add different plants beside it?”
“A wall of pink roses sounds beautiful,” chirped Rainith.
One by one, more plants appeared, with Amdirlain using higher octaves than necessary to ensure the notes differed from what Rainith had heard the Lómë sing. The excitement that hummed through her prompted Amdirlain to continue, the melodies seamlessly transitioning. Golden outlines formed into rows of mithril constructs in the courtyard, and Rainith clapped enthusiastically. Amdirlain took the work slowly, concentrating on the performance of each note.
I can sing so many melodies at once; I wonder if I can apply some techniques Sarith and Kadaklan helped me with on multiple memories simultaneously. For now, I need to concentrate on delicate music.
Not letting the thought distract her, Amdirlain continued shifting each row of constructs away when it was completed to allow room for the next. As the performance ran on, Laleither repeatedly shot her curious glances, but Amdirlain didn’t meet her eyes. When Master Cyrus left his manor, Amdirlain took it as the signal to draw the music to a close. The last row of completed constructs vanished, except one, and Rainith ran up to it and pressed her hands against its legs.
[Crafting Summary (Category: Constructs)
Mithril-composite Construct x300
Total Experience gained: 30,000,000
Fallen: +30,000,000
True Song Genesis [G] (52->53)]
“It’s so sturdy,” exclaimed Rainith, and she turned to Laleither, who was grinning brightly.
Raithin returned her smile and looked at Amdirlain.
“Is that what you were hoping to hear?”
With her eyes glistening with happy tears, Rainith pressed her hands to her mouth and nodded repeatedly.
“Gorgeous. They were so gorgeous. That was different from anything I’ve heard Gail sing. Those higher notes danced under my skin,” gushed Rainith happily.
“I hadn’t thought about that,” said Laleither. “The melodies I like the most are those containing the solid bass rumbles.”
“Thank you, Am,” exclaimed Rainith, and she rushed back to hug Amdirlain. “Did you use up all your break singing for me?”
Amdirlain dropped the concealment from around them. “Yes, but you needed the reassurance. My teacher is on his way now.”
Though Rainith sighed dramatically at the pronouncement, she didn’t protest and gave Amdirlain another hug. “Thank you.”
Their exchange prompted Roher to break from his study of the memory crystals and start organising the boys. When Nordil protested leaving so quickly, Sarah packed the game board into a storage device and gave Nordil a copy of the rules in a memory crystal. He headed down the stairs only after Nordil had extracted a promise from Lospen to play the game with him.
With Rainith still hugging Amdirlain, Laleither waited quietly, only rising when the rest of her family exited the training hall.
She’s very much an introvert.
“We’ll leave you to your afternoon lessons,” said Roher, shaking Amdirlain’s hand. “These compositions will give us much to study. They tickle at memories, but I wonder if we even have the strength to sing them fully.”
“We just need to break it into pieces and work on it in shifts,” replied Amdirlain. “If we set the atmosphere in place first, so its chemical mix is right for the intended life forms, then we can begin on the plants and ocean life.”
That is harder than any Demi-Plane, since the seed’s rules help create the initial atmosphere.
Roher shook her hand again and stepped away. “We’ll look them over and organise the choirs into shifts. I’m sure you could handle the Anar side for us.”
Amdirlain shrugged modestly, not wanting to provoke Laleither’s curiosity.
When her father was clear, Rainith asked, “Can we return for a longer visit, or will you come to visit us?”
Amdirlain knelt to look her in the eyes. “I’ll try not to be a stranger, but I have a lot on my plate. We can arrange a day for you to come for a while.”
“Okay,” murmured Rainith sadly, and she held out her arms for another hug.
Neither of us is who we were when we were Human.
‘What do you think of your daughter’s concern?’ projected Amdirlain to Laleither.
The composed mask Laleither wore didn’t ripple at Amdirlain’s mental touch.
‘Rainith lacks a role model and doesn’t mesh well with Gail,’ advised Laleither. ‘My daughter is too serious about things for Gailneth’s friendly demeanour not to rub her the wrong way. Though there are other Anar, she often seems isolated and alone, wanting more than the other children.’
Amdirlain restrained a cough. ‘I figured that from what she said to me. Have you been overselling me? I can be incredibly haphazard.’
‘Rainith refuses to believe that about you,’ returned Laleither. ‘She insists your seriousness is what she needs in a mentor.’
Amdirlain mental voice hardened. ‘Me? I’m not sure I’m fit to be anyone’s mentor.’
Laleither looked at her in disbelief. ‘You taught Gailneth, and I believe she looks to you as more than simply a teacher. Your views she takes as valuable advice.’
Grateful that she had activated Phoenix’s Rapture to ensure calm reactions around Rainith, Amdirlain only rolled her eyes instead of blushing.
Each of the children returned Amdirlain’s hugs, though Lospen seemed slightly embarrassed by Amdirlain’s embrace. When Nordil released her, Amdirlain gave them a wave, and they vanished in a Planar Shift that chimed with tight control.
“Well, that was a short visit but the kids wanted to see you for themselves,” Gail noted.
“Care to share more of what happened with the gnarls?” asked Amdirlain.
Sarah squeezed Amdirlain’s hand. “Are you embarrassed by the hero worship?”
“Not anyone’s hero,” muttered Amdirlain. “Gail, I know something’s wrong. Don’t be as dense as me.”
Gail tilted her head and fixed Amdirlain with a tight smile. “Does it matter now? It was unpleasant. Things got messy, and they got resolved. In most tribal dens we hit, the gnarls used monsters as breeding stock. The early ones were where we found people. I healed them, but I couldn’t get some to take help from the Daughters of Hope, and today-”
The grief-filled notes surged up, and Amdirlain wrapped Gail up in a hug.
“Today, I found many of those had taken their own lives,” sobbed Gail, her words coming in broken sentences. “It’s so stupid. I didn’t understand why they wouldn’t go to them. But some of it sounded like pride. So I ensured that, after they got healed, they had the means to reestablish themselves. But I was busy, so I let it be. Today, I had news to give them all. They’d never need to fear the gnarls again. But I was too late. I checked on them and found so many graves. Why?!”
“You can’t help everyone, Gail,” consoled Amdirlain. “You got them out of a situation you had no part in making. Please don’t punish yourself for their choices.”
“Master Cyrus is heading this way, and you’ve got your afternoon lesson soon,” Gail sniffed and tried to draw away.
“We’ve got you,” Sarah murmured, hugging them both.