Solace has been gifted a horse.
This is the first thing they find out, having arrived at the public stables by the marketplace. The groom passes the horse off to her – a large bay gelding, with a white patch over his head and on one fetlock – and she immediately starts beaming like a fool.
“Do I get to name him?” Solace asks, petting his nose.
“He’s trained to respond to Hickory, but you can try to rename him; no promises he’ll listen to a new name.”
Solace looks him over, once, then nods in satisfaction. “Hickory is good.”
She does not ask who the gift is from, and no-one else of their party does either. Leah feels a mild thawing in her heart. The Baron’s an okay guy, when all’s said and done. He was just put through some shit. And to be fair, in the beginning I was one of the people putting him through that shit. Not sure I’m gonna forgive him before I leave this world, but I’m sure it won’t disappoint him if I don’t.
And really…Leah’s expression falls into a frown. I’ve technically done something far worse than what he did. The truth spell sucked, and so did prison, but that compulsion spell…at the time it seemed like nothing, like a necessary evil, but I really did take over his free will at the drop of a hat, no questions. Her frown deepens and she forces herself to focus on the present. Maybe I’ll look into the laws around bodily autonomy and the rights of the individual, if I end up stuck here for a while yet. Even if I’m not guilty by the laws of this land, I still feel icky about it – and about the fact that this is apparently Seffon’s specialty. Although, Seffon seems to specialise more in preventing or breaking these sorts of spells, if only from what I’ve seen so far.
Man. For evocation to be the only taboo school…it must be pretty impressive. I wouldn’t mind leaving before I ever find out why.
Their departure is without any further goodbyes, and the ride back to the keep is quiet. Leah watches the trees pass by with a pensive attitude, comparing them to the forests of her homeland, and to her earlier memories of this world. The tiny pink and white flowers have long-since been replaced by red, purple, and yellow blooms of various shapes and sizes, an incredible diversity of flora spreading between the thick old trees. At the first creek they cross, she notes tall cattails and sedges, their seed-heads just beginning to form, rustling in a gentle wind, the sunlight piercing through and casting a streaky collage of shadows below them. Distantly – very distantly – she can remember the panicked escape from the dungeon, riding out towards Seffonshold, unsure of her exact plan.
As they continue on the forest grows denser, and the undergrowth sparser. No-one talks, everyone focusing on steering their mounts along the barely-visible trail. Beeswax seems at ease, and Leah gives her her head, to find her own path; the horse knows better than her what the safest route is.
They camp out again, just past halfway into the Enterlan, though Leah isn’t entirely sure of the borders – they don’t seem to be formally marked, at least not in any way she recognises. Another thing to ask. If I stay here long enough for the question to matter. She sighs and sets up her bedroll near the campfire pit, chewing on her field rations and wishing for a nice fresh flatbread or salad instead.
Leah spends the night staring up at the canopy again. Between the rustling leaves she catches glints of the night sky, bright in the near-absolute darkness, only the red glow from the coals challenging the stars in their light. Mind wandering, she finds herself musing on stars and planets and galaxies.
Solace joins her for part of it, shifting her bedroll over to be next to Leah’s, simply staring up with her in silence. “Everything feels wrapped up, doesn’t it?” the bard says finally, in a whisper.
“How so?”
Solace tucks her hands under her head. “Every day has been an endless series of questions, for the past little while. Now suddenly they’re all answered.”
“Not all,” Leah says with a sigh.
“Pfft, do you think it’s possible to know every answer?”
“I’m not omniscient.”
“Ooh, big word.”
Leah elbows her. “I’m thinking about gods.”
Solace looks over at her, carefully. “Oh?”
The wind drops off for a moment, and the leaves lie still, before another gust sweeps through and lifts a wave of rustling to rush over the sleeping party. Leah closes her eyes and listens, remembering the sound of the hay fields, and the flax fields. “That illusion you cast, with the Baroness. What was it?” she asks.
Solace shrugs against the ground. “Closure.”
“That’s all I’m getting?”
“You think getting closure isn’t enough?”
“No, I mean – ”
Solace reaches over to pat her hand. “I know.” She settles back into place. “The spell was meant to mimic a certain tradition of the old Volsti churches, the ones with a whole team of high-ranking clerics. It’s a sort of…capturing of the spirit? Just an echo. It gives people a chance to say goodbye properly, and to recite the rites if they haven’t been yet.”
“Yes, the rites.” Leah nods in thought. “They sounded an awful lot like that Algic prayer that captain Nedies told me.”
“Ah, Nedies.” Solace smiles fondly. “Lots of great stories about her.”
“Are the Volsti funeral rites an Algic derivative?”
“Well the pantheon is, so why not the rites? And surely you’ve read the acolyte’s book by now, and you’ve realised that most Volsti religious traditions are just carefully disguised spells.” Solace sits up and stretches. “Of course, in Algi they are not funerary, because the Lady of Murk has maintained her traditional role as patron of the liminal, whereas in Volst and the Enterlan she’s mainly associated with birth and death – which are liminal, to be fair, but it’s a restricted definition of the term.”
“What about the other goddesses?” Leah asks.
“The Lady of Rest is pretty much the same; the idea that things need a dormancy period in order to thrive. She’s obviously more important in the northlands, because of the harsher winters. The Lady of Bounty is a little two-dimensional in Volst, I feel; they treat her as a mother figure, only associated with plants and growing things, the ‘Green Giver.’ She’s supposed to be more about community and cooperation and creating something with others.”
Leah rolls over and pulls up her blankets. “You said you didn’t know Algi very well.”
“And that was an oversight in my education. I’ve been studying, since you pointed it out.”
“You’re awfully opinionated for someone who just began studying the culture.”
“That’s my prerogative as a bard.” Solace beams, then shuffles her bedroll closer to the embers of the fire pit. “Now shush. Get some sleep.”
*
They arrive back at Seffonshold in the evening of the second day. Solace has agreed to remain until the spell attempt is made, in case Leah Talesh’s wake-up is more violent than expected.
“The stories say you’re not too impulsive, but they also say you’re principled; who’s to say you won’t see Seffon’s face and immediately try to murder him?” she says, jokingly.
Leah’s blood runs cold. “Solace,” she says, taking the bard’s arm. “If Leah Talesh tries to hurt Seffon, you have my permission to kill her.”
Solace looks at her in shock. “I think that’s a little – ”
“No,” Leah says, shaking her head. “If she even looks like she wants to harm him, stop her. By any means necessary.”
Seffon walks in on them, his face distracted, and Leah is grateful he didn’t walk in a few seconds earlier. “I want to double-check something, before I start this,” he says distractedly. “The set-up shouldn’t take long, but we don’t have much light left.”
“Huh? We’re doing this tonight?” Leah’s stomach drops.
He blinks over at her. “Was there anything else you needed to do here? There’s no guarantee it will even work, don’t fret too much.”
“But I – ” Leah swallows. “Well then I had better finish my goodbyes, I guess. Just in case.”
Seffon hesitates. “Right. Yes, of course. I’ll be in the library, and then I’ll meet you in the tower. Don’t take too long.” He walks off.
Leah smothers the impulse to snap at him, and goes to Jeno’s rooms.
Kain answers the door and welcomes her in immediately; they set aside their suppers to listen to Leah’s story of the battle, and of Eschen’s capture, interrogation, and death.
“I really don’t think there’s a better way to break it to you, other than all at once, but it’s going to be a lot of scary things one after the other,” Leah says, reaching out to take Jeno’s hand. “Eschen was given a mission by the Emperor to overthrow Valerin, and make it a new duchy with either you in charge or someone else. He coaxed Volst into starting the war so that it would look like a legitimate dispute, not a usurpation. He killed the Baroness.”
Kain’s hands fly to her mouth, and Jeno gasps, but neither interrupts.
“He was either going to kill the Baron and put you in charge, as technically the last Valerid, or kill you both and let the Emperor designate a new noble family – possibly him, in recognition of his services. Your parents didn’t know about any of this; you were chosen as the pawn because of your arranged marriage, and the Emperor decided it would be convenient to put you in harm’s way.” Leah breathes deeply. “The Emperor is apparently nervous about anti-magic sentiment in Ben-Lia, and wanted to replace the ruling family there. Your parents left to return home, and very likely there will be a civil war once they arrive and confront the Emperor.”
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Jeno stares at her hand, held in Leah’s. “And now Eschen’s dead?”
Leah squirms. “Jeno…your mother noticed the bruise, from his spells. No easy way to say this, but…she knew how he’d been hurting you, and how he’d been willing to hurt you more, and when the interrogation was done…she killed him.”
Jeno is frozen, staring at her hands. Kain coughs awkwardly. “Gods above, Leah.”
“I know. And unfortunately, I don’t have time to answer questions, although Seffon will be able to fill in the blanks for you. The last thing to say is that you have options, Jeno.” Leah gives her hand a squeeze, then lets go. “Northern Bair has already offered you asylum, if you want to stay there until the war is done. The Master of the Tribunal is a friend, I have just learned,” Leah allows herself a small smirk, “And I can guarantee that he will treat you with respect and consideration.”
“Master of – you mean Edvellu?” Kain gawks. “He was there?”
“Another long story, which I do not have time to share, but suffice it to say that my visits to the tea shop were not for him, but for someone named…Heketsi?” Leah grins, half-heartedly.
Kain’s brows scrunch together, then fly up. “Oh wow,” she says, nodding.
Leah giggles a bit. “But I’ve got to go, soon. I wanted to tell you the important stuff myself, and the others can fill you in on the details.”
“I get the horrible feeling you’re about to say goodbye for good,” Kain says.
“I am.”
Jeno reaches out and takes her hand back. “Why?”
With a lingering twinge of hurt, Leah gives the Cheden refugee a small smile and a reassuring pat on the hand. “Because I have responsibilities in my world, and a career, maybe. I’ve got a family, and friends, and I need to make sure they’re not worried sick over me. We’re still not certain what’s been happening with my original body, or with Leah Talesh’s mind, but if this works…”
Kain nods, then stands up and gestures for a hug. “You’ve caused a bloody mess here, and you’re gonna leave someone else to clean it up.” She chuckles. “That is so you.”
“Um?”
“In a good way.”
“I’m not sure how that can be a good thing – ”
“Just shut up and enjoy the hug.”
“Okay.”
*
Leah knocks on the door to Seffon’s library and pushes it open. He has two books open, and is cross-referencing between them and the page Wellen gave him.
“Entẽ.”
“Already have.”
He looks up and smiles, then frowns and goes back to the books. “This is a hard spell to adapt. Higher-level ones usually are.” His frown deepens. “And yet you’ve only ever observed magic, and know just the basics of runes, but still managed to accidentally recreate an approximation of a revivification spell.”
“I did what?”
“With the Baroness.”
Leah sits down in her chair, hands loosely clasped between her knees. “Not my proudest mad scientist moment.”
“What was your logic?” Seffon looks up from the books, still frowning. “I can understand some of what you used, but…”
She shrugs. “The healing spell was just to fix the enormous gash. Noi was because I didn’t have a crash cart, and I wanted to jump-start her heart. The desiccation and sun runes were from that book Solace gave us; apparently there’s something in the Volsti religious tradition about the Gods of decay and sun being able to block the Goddess of Murk from dealing death, or something like that.” Leah looks around the room, then. “Do you have that book here, actually? There was something I wanted to check, about funerary rites and the spells around them…”
“Do you imagine it will be useful to you, in your home world?” Seffon asks, getting up to fetch the booklet.
“It might be useful to send me there, and also I’m just curious sometimes,” Leah says tetchily.
“It will only make you miss this world more.”
Leah’s fingers grip the booklet tightly as he hands it over. “Seffon, if we fight right now, I will cry.”
He flinches, then turns back and looks over the shelves. “I think I understand why you did the spell like that,” he says, clearing his throat. “Certainly with the flashes I have of your world, it makes sense. Your knowledge is so foreign to our own…”
Leah nods, looking through the booklet. “That’s part of why I’m going. I was here six weeks, about, and I’ve already unleashed a dangerous technology centuries earlier than it should have been invented. I’ve possibly started this world on the path to eventual destruction. If I stay longer, who knows how much worse it could get?”
“Worse than destruction?”
Leah does not answer, reading through the short passage on funeral rites. The text of the prayer is given, and a series of runes which are supposed to be drawn on the corpse with charcoal. A note in the margins explains the purpose of each: freeing the spirit from the flesh; giving it voice; giving it shape; opening a path onwards. Solace knows her stuff. First thing she ever told me; she studies cultures. But she didn’t even need to light the candle to do this illusion, and it seems pretty complex to pull off. Is it even an illusion? What school would this be?
“The light’s leaving,” Seffon says, looking out the window. “Go get ready.”
Leah closes the booklet and stands up, hesitating. She goes over to Seffon and wraps her arms around him from behind in a hug, pressing her cheek against his back. He stands very straight, then relaxes and wraps his arms over hers.
“You’ll be okay?” he asks, still not looking away from the dark window.
Leah holds him a fraction tighter. “I don’t know, but I’ll be able to pull through. I know the ins and outs of that world pretty well.”
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Hm?”
He taps the booklet, still held in her hand.
“Oh. I’m not sure. It’s beyond me, I can’t really figure out what…” Leah sighs. “Not knowing will bother me for a bit, but I’ll get over it. It’s inevitable that I’ll be leaving here with questions unanswered, no point putting it off just to try and answer them all.”
Silence.
“We could.”
Leah lifts her cheek to look up at the back of Seffon’s head. “Hm?”
“If you’re not ready to go, we could – ”
“It’s not whether I’m ready or not, Seffon.” She gives him one last squeeze then pulls away. His hands don’t quite let go of her, at first, but finally he relaxes and they pull apart. “I need to leave. I need to see my family again.”
Seffon collects himself and nods once. “Of course. Of course, you’re right.” He takes a very deep, careful breath, then turns and lays a hand on her shoulder, guiding her out of the library, scooping up the page as he goes. Leah drops the booklet on her chair, and it bounces on the cushion before settling in the dim light, golf-leafed title barely legible. As she takes one last look around the room, Seffon whispers a charm and waves a hand, dousing the candles.
“I’m still a little concerned,” he says, as he stops to close the door behind them. “You slept for three days, before waking up here. Now, part of that was the trap spell, I’m sure, but just in case there is something to the passing of the mind between worlds that requires several hours or days of unconsciousness…” He shrugs and taps a knuckle against her pauldrons. “These can’t be very comfortable to sleep in.”
Leah nods. “I’ll go get changed, but if Leah Talesh feels threatened when she wakes up, not having armour will only make her feel more so.”
“That’s why Miss Djalaa will be there. You were there when she came to, and it de-escalated the situation smoothly. If that’s not enough, we’ll have guards, just in case.”
“That’s probably counter-productive,” Leah says. “The guards, I mean. The last time Talesh saw any of your people she was fighting for her life against them.”
Seffon’s mouth turns down at the corner.
“Solace and Kain will be enough,” Leah says reassuringly, remembering her earlier conversation with the bard and feeling the hairs rise on her arms. “And I’ll take off the dagger.”
He nods once, curtly. “I’ll send someone for Miss Djalaa and Lady Jeno, if the latter feels willing. Would it be productive to have her?”
Leah rolls her head, and takes a long time deciding. “Probably. If she’s willing.”
One last time Seffon nods, still not quite looking Leah in the face. “I’ll be ready to start in ten minutes.”
In her mind, Leah can hear a clock start ticking down, counting the seconds. Her fingers tremble for a moment. “Right. See you there.”
They turn and walk off at the same time, going opposite directions. In her room, Leah begins the process of detaching all the buckles and straps of her armour, piling each piece carefully on the dresser. The blood has been long-since cleaned off, and they shine silver in the low light from the dark blue sky. Leah leaves on her cape, for warmth and as extra padding.
A knock sounds at her door, barely a minute after she arrived. Curious, Leah calls out a welcome, and the door is opened.
Adan steps in, peering into the darkness, backlit by the hallway lights. “Ley?”
“Almost ready,” Leah says, sitting on the bed to remove her greaves. “Still not as quick as you at this. Did Seffon send you?” She pinches her thumb in one of the buckles and winces. “Probably smart. I don’t know Leah Talesh well, but I imagine she’s probably a pretty good fighter – and way stronger than Kain. Having someone else will be…” She trails off, looking to the lieutenant, still standing in the doorway. “You don’t even know what’s happening, do you? All you know is that my memories are gone. You don’t know who’s about to show up in your midst.”
Adan enters without a word and kneels at the side of the bed, helping Leah take off her armour. “Dẽ es qfie a lau of gosse araun ju,” Adan says as she works. “I tri teu listennau, bycaus e juzually comes from pypl heu knonau fa ju ã lie, ryly. B fen e es d Lõ sajeng dys tengs…” She frowns, setting the greaves on the dresser next to the rest. “Es someteng goeng teu happen?”
Leah understands that much easily. “Yes. Something’s going to happen.” She sighs and stands, scratching her shoulder where the pauldron had rested against it, heavy and sharp. “I’m not cut out for this. Time to go.” Her fingers trail against the faint raised line of the old scar on her neck as she pulls her hand away, standing in the dark room, suddenly aware that it may be the last time she is here.
“Tim teu go?” Adan asks. “I asjum’ e fou by abou jõ memorys, b ju ã aeng lie ju ã goeng teu desapỹ.”
Drawing her mind away from self-pity, Leah shoots Adan a smile. “It is about my memories, a bit. One last time, eh?” She claps Adan on the shoulder as she says it. “Time for you to stand watch over me again. One last time walking though these halls with a guard, like a dangerous foreign warrior.”
Adan looks at her uncertainly, before cracking a smile. “I theŋ ju ã trieng teu destra my from fatevẽ es goeng aun. Ju nydnau by fõ strong my. Ã ju scã’? Es e goeng teu by ba?” Her face is sincere as she asks the questions.
Leah shrugs broadly. “You know I love our conversations, my dear, but I have a deadline. No time to try and pick apart whatever you’re saying. Coming?” She gestures to the door, still smiling brightly. When Adan does not move, Leah’s expression falters. “Are you coming?”
“I have ben as’ bi d Lõ teu by dẽ,” Adan says, stepping into place beside Leah. “Hy explain’nau fa fas plan’.”
“No, he doesn’t explain his plans, does he?” Leah starts walking, closing the door behind them. They get only a handful of steps down the hall before Leah doubles back. “Oh, shoot, right, the dagger.”
Adan watches her go in bafflement.
Leah undoes her belt and slides the dagger, sheath and all, off. She sets it on the desk, the wrapped leather of the hilt slick and cool. She looks at it for a split second longer then turns to rejoin Adan, only to find that Adan has rejoined her, and is staring at the dagger in confusion.
“What?” Leah asks, rebuckling her belt.
The lieutenant shakes her head. “Fatevẽ fell happen, I fou radẽ ju by safe. Able teu defen jõself.”
“I won’t be the one needing defending.” Leah shrugs. “No more time to dally! Let’s go.” She does not try to force a smile this time, only walking down the corridors with long steps, listening to her heels clack against the wood, looking over the religious-style paintings as she passes by.
Adan walks alongside her, looking glum. “Fell ju by safe? I kno ju can understan my – zus a be, zus sometims, b yven so. Enough teu kno.”
“Yes, Adan, I can understand you sometimes,” Leah says with a sigh. “Not as much as I’d like. I did mean what I said, at the meeting; I think you’d be fun to hang out with. I’m going to regret not having the chance to…”
“D ceans teu fa?”
Leah looks at her out of the side of her eye. “How much do you understand?”
Adan’s face is a mask. “Mõ dan ju gev fõ my crede.”
Leah humphs. “Damn. That one sounded important, and I don’t think I caught it.”
“Ley?”
Leah stops and turns to face Adan. They are at the start of the tunnel leading to the tower, and Leah can just hear the sounds of people inside, Seffon setting up whatever needs to be done. “Yes?”
For a few seconds, Adan stares at her directly. Then she looks away gestures to the tunnel and the half-open door.
Leah waits a few seconds more, but there doesn’t seem to be anything else forthcoming. She steps forward, past the arrow-slit windows, the scent of just-blooming ivy filling the hall. Adan follows a few steps behind her. “Fell ju by safe?”
Leah looks over her shoulder, pausing at the door. “That’s your job, not mine,” she says with a sad smile, then steps into the tower.