The rain lightened into a soft drizzle the next morning, though the sky showed no signs of letting up. Somewhere between studying the poem, drying out his belongings, and keeping an eye out for the fox, sleep found Illus. The soft rain was all he heard for a long time, left in complete silence otherwise. Loneliness crept in like an old friend he had forgotten about.
So much of Illus’s time had been spent in the city with friends, working in the office, or researching with Anilee. Now, he had a whole lot of nothing going on besides retrieving food and water. With the spool of thread he found in a corner of the shed, he carved himself a fishing hook and made a rudimentary fishing pole.
Catching fish would make a great source of food, but he thought bribing the fox could be a possibility too.
He found himself taking inventory again and again, but most often sifting through Anilee’s spare clothes. Had he been too mean? Did she deserve such harshness from him? He was the one who made this entire expedition happen, but if he had waited then they could be back at her mansion planning the entire trip out. What would the Colonel say when the three returned without him?
Illus smiled ruefully at a lacy gray dress with puffy shoulders and a big skirt. He imagined seeing her in it, asking him if it suited her as she always did. Then getting frustrated that he always said it did. He wondered where his fondness for her came from when all she saw of the world was never enough.
He emptied the dresses out and sifted through the remaining makeup, brushes, pens, pencils, empty notebooks, full notebooks.
Some of her old sketchbooks with notes on the ruins were in there, the ones she never let him see.
Nothing could stop him now, so he scoured the notebooks. What would he find, he wondered? Her inner thoughts, her feelings, random sketches, notes, drawings of people, drawings of him? Had she ever drawn him? Did she think of him fondly?
His mind raced, a little afraid to open the notebooks and find the truth, but curiosity got the better of him. The first page was a full page sketch of her library. This one he had caught a glimpse of many times before, peeking over her shoulder when she was bored and sketching idly. Beyond that were sketches of dresses, some old notes about Imahken and Carmonia, then a carefully created self portrait. It was as close to perfect as he had seen a drawing of her. Perfectly round eyes, perfectly full lips, perfectly angular cheeks, perfectly straight black hair, perfectly solemn expression, perfect dimples. It had every detail of her face to utter perfection, but it looked nothing like her.
She seemed to have thought the same thing, because the next one was another self portrait, almost samely perfect except with color. Again, she captured every detail perfectly, but there was something off.
He flipped the next page and yet another portrait, though incomplete, this one the exact same as the other two, but her hair was a little out of place and there was an aggressive X through the page.
Then another page of a self portrait crossed out, this time seemingly after she had drawn on her freckles more heavily than before- but it looked more accurate. He flipped back to the prior page and noticed the hairline again, realizing that it was her actual hairline, a bit lower than average, a slightly shorter forehead.
Every page that resembled more of how she actually looked was crossed out and unfinished. Between more notes and random sketches of empty cityscapes were these crossed out portraits of herself.
A droplet splashed in the brazier. Illus glanced up to see Ciun watching from the roof.
He startled and shut the notebook, “Good grief!”
“Don’t let me stop you.” The mask stared from above, Ciun’s long blue hair was tied back, falling over her neck and dripping water.
“You know,” Illus slowly gestured to the bench behind his spot on the floor. “Obviously this is your own shed, but you’re welcome to not be sopping wet outside if you’re visiting. I hate to cause you any discomfort.” Before she could respond, he raised a finger to halt her, setting Anilee’s bag full of clothes and cosmetic items on the bench, then moving to the opposite side of the room. “That’s all yours now. I’ve sorted through everything. Consider it thanks for allowing me to stay here.”
She slowly, cautiously lowered herself into the room toward the bench, so Illus turned toward the wall. The moment he turned, he heard a quick swish of cloth and then her bare feet on the granite above.
Illus glanced over his shoulder before fully turning around, checking to be sure she was back in her spot up top. “I do have one question, if I may?”
She nodded.
“Did you hear all of our conversations? Were you listening?”
She stared blankly ahead.
Illus took that as a yes, but didn’t know how to proceed. “Okay, um, thank you for stopping in, I suppose.”
She didn’t move from her spot.
Illus looked back up at her with an awkward smile and a puzzled expression. “Not to be rude, but I can’t see most of your face, so trying to gauge how I should be toward you is a bit difficult, and I mean no disrespect at all. A little help would be much appreciated. Are you a divine being? A magical entity? An ancient magician?”
Finally she spoke. “Are those your lady’s sketches?”
Illus paused. “Um… hard to say she’s my lady anymore after everything, but they’re certainly her sketches and notes.”
“She’s good with a pencil, but they’re all so lifeless.”
He didn’t know how to respond. “She never let me see them before now.” He bit his tongue for a moment and raised his eyebrows. “Would you like to look through her notebooks?”
She nodded, so Illus retrieved the notebooks and set them on the floor in front of him.
“I think this one is the most recent one.” He held it up and she nodded.
This notebook was particularly full of notes, diagrams, and roughly drawn maps of the surroundings with citations of every source they used to narrow down the search area. There were a few scattered sketches of herself throughout, this time at different angles and in different poses, but they were all like the first ones. Completely perfect, not resembling Anilee as she truly appeared.
“Quite the idealist,” Ciun muttered to herself.
“Hm?” Illus glanced up at Ciun, who was leaning down as far as she could. Her hair was dripping onto his shoulder.
She abruptly backed up. “They look nothing like her.”
Illus shrugged. “She stopped showing me them because I said something similar.”
Ciun audibly scoffed. “The picture is clear to me now.”
Illus frowned, a little put off by the odd response. “What picture?”
“You.”
“Me?”
She nodded. “You said it yourself, butler.”
A sigh escaped Illus’s mouth, a well of frustration growing in him. “Yes, thank you for reminding me. I haven’t thought about that enough these past days.”
“Hmm,” Ciun smugly grinned. “You’re not going to apologize to me for your tone? Not going to worship the ground I stand on until I stop insulting you?”
“You’re in the ceiling.”
She didn’t respond.
He groaned. “I hardly think my relationships are any of your business.”
“A lady can only go so many centuries without a little drama. Humor me.”
“Centuries? You’ve been alone with the fox that long?” Illus’s sour mood became something more like pity.
She didn’t respond.
“Not keen on drama when it involves yourself?”
“I’ve had enough drama in my life.”
“Perfect, then you don’t need mine.”
She flicked her hair over the other shoulder. “Humor me?”
“I prefer equal exchange of this ‘drama,’ so to speak.” He flipped through the notebook casually. “You haven’t even told me your name.”
“Yet you know it.”
“Do I?”
“I’m certain somebody told you.”
“Who? There’s nobody around except…” Illus pretended to come to a conclusion. “The fox knows, doesn’t he?”
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“Don’t be coy.”
“I’ll have to ask him once you go home.”
Her mouth thinned into a smirk. “You’re not a good liar.”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “I am quite the accomplished liar, but I’ve a hunch that you’ve been listening to all my conversations, so how could I lie? And why do you refuse to tell me?”
She didn’t respond.
“For somebody who keeps such a frightened distance, your nose is deep in my business.”
Her smirk faded.
“Is it because of this?” Illus held the notebook up, showing her the poem. “Is this poem correct? Was Ani right? That your mask grants power to whoever takes it?”
She didn’t respond, but her head lowered and her body prepared to leap out.
Illus laid on the floor looking up at her and threw the notebook on the bench. “Do I look heartless and stupid? What should I say? ‘Golly gee, you must be Ciun from the dead bloke’s poem! How’s about I toss away my life and try to take your mask? Go missing like all the others have, eh?’”
She didn’t respond.
“Do I really seem the type?”
Again, no response.
“You overheard my private conversations. You know your ruins are not my aspiration.”
She tilted her head. “And yet you went through all that hardship to get here. Just for her to leave you.”
Illus rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Wooing a woman is tricky business, business that I now have a year’s break from. It’s oddly freeing despite the dismal situation. Perhaps I’ll reconsider my approach for future prospects as I survive. I take it you have experience spanning decades? Centuries? Millennia? Surely you have some advice or tricks for a naive, heartbroken young lad such as myself.”
She didn’t respond.
“Then farewell. I’m tired of wallowing in another’s misery. If you wish me gone, I will make a shelter elsewhere. I’ll take my chances with the fox if I must. At least he doesn’t pretend to be amicable, and he can enjoy a good laugh.”
She seemed quite insulted at that last remark. “So you wish to be at odds?”
Illus locked his eyes on her mask for a moment, about to say something, then got another idea. “That is entirely up to you.” He paused. “Have my gift and go or cast me out. Or deny it. There’s plenty of fine cloth for starting flames in there.”
Ciun watched from the roof as he laid his head back on his hands and listened to the rain falling. The mask pensively stared forward, her mouth curling down at one side.
Her voice fell softer. “Thank you for the gifts, and I- I forgot the pain lost love can be.” She lowered her head a little. “I haven’t had company without malign intent in a very long time.”
Illus sighed. “Explorers can be quite the handful as I’ve been reading.” She began to back out of the hole in the roof. “Ah- oh, would you be willing to point me toward a decent fishing spot?”
She peeked in through the ceiling again. “The north river. The water’s gentler closer to the gully where the beavers dam.”
“Thank you. See you around.” He waved to Ciun and she slipped out of sight.
Not long later, Illus picked up his makeshift fishing supplies and slowly set out for the north river she spoke of. The fishing stick doubled as a passable walking stick. Having entered from the south river, he had yet to see much of the north side. The light drizzle oddly refreshed him as the sun poked through distant clouds, radiating some much needed warmth on Illus’s face. He stretched away some of his aches and pains, happy that he could simply walk.
His major concerns were food, water, and shelter. He had shelter. He had a steady supply of fresh water in the river. His only real challenges would be food and the strange locals. He hoped there were no more of them.
Illus passed the tiled square near the bridge, glancing up the mountain he hoped to climb once he was in better condition. Past the square was a series of crumbled ruins, the pillars sunken and tilted, but still standing. Their roofs were not so lucky, fallen and buried beneath the soil.
Beyond these crumbled ruins was an overgrown amphitheater. Aquatic plants grew beneath the water on the submerged granite floor. Frogs and other critters chirped on lily pads and drifting logs. Little fish darted around in the shaded pond of rainwater.
The fox sat at the edge of the pond pawing for fish as little wisps of blue haze drifted from its eyes, making the animals do all sorts of unusual leaps and sounds. It cackled lightly at them, but seemed to take no notice of Illus, who stealthily crept around the outside to avoid alerting the fox.
Beyond the amphitheater, on the far north hill of the ruins grew a chaotic mess of trees bearing bright yellow and green pears. Younger trees were tied to stakes, many of which had snapped from the recent storm. Rotting green pears littered the ground. Illus figured the yellow ones would be better to eat, picking one and biting into the tart, soft flesh. Lucky enough, he was right.
Then a bumblebee buzzed before him, gently hovering as if investigating the new visitor.
“Good day, Mr. Bee. At least you’re friendly.” Illus cheerfully whispered to it, delighting in the striped little fuzzball.
He heard a woman’s snicker in the not-so-far distance after he said that.
With eyes over his shoulder, he cordially nodded to the bee.
Beyond the pear trees, the hill flattened into a field of short, leafy green stalks that he recognized as belonging to some kind of root vegetable. The cutoff from pear to these plants was quite sharp, cultivated. Old columns stuck out of the ground here too, the soil seeming to cover the ruins beneath.
Illus reached down to a small one and just as he was about to pull it up, a small wooden stake pierced the ground next to his hand.
He staggered back. Tracing the direction it came from with his eyes, he found Ciun watching from a distant column.
He called out to her. “What are these?”
She called back. “Not yours.”
Illus groaned and shook his head, walking northward. He never heard her, but every so often he glanced back to spy her watching from behind a bush or atop a column.
The hill gradually descended, granite ridges eroded by time emerging from spots of shallow soil. The river below was deep, but softly flowing and clear as could be. The drizzles rippled atop the current, some salmon swimming upstream. Illus took a seat on a ridge of granite and cast his line out into the water, bits of dried fish on the hook. He set the rod under his leg, then began drying the rifle and its few remaining cartridges, oiling the mechanisms with some of his lantern’s whale oil.
After a short while of no bites, light footsteps approached from behind Illus.
The fox’s voice spoke up. “He plays with the stick that knocked me like a brick. What secrets doth it hold? Is it wary of mold?” It pleasantly sat beside Illus, observing him clean the rifle.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Illus smirked at the fox. “I will tell you on one basis, and consider it the standard going forward.”
“You propose a deal? I’ll hear your spiel.”
“So long as the sun is readily visible, you may visit all you like, but no other time. Respect my rest, my sleep, and we may get along. How about it?”
“So long as it is day, my visits I may pay?”
Illus chuckled. “Every day is a day. No. Only when and where the sun is visible to us both.”
The fox grinned. “Very well. Now tell.”
“Say it, fox. Bind yourself to your word.”
The fox grinned wider, more grim than before. “So long as we readily spy the sun, our tales may be interspun.”
Illus nodded, carefully considering the phrasing. “Very well. This here,” pointing to the sights, “is where the sun’s heat is gathered into the fire launcher.” While the fox’s eyes were locked on the sights, he scooted the cartridges into his pocket. “After enough warmth is gathered, I press it against my shoulder and pull this trigger to blast fire at impossible speeds.”
The fox narrowed its eyes at Illus. “Your sister shot me at night, a time where there is no light.”
“It can hold the heat for quite a long time. You only need to leave it out once every week or so depending on how often you use it.”
The fox grinned. “May I use it? Only a bit?”
“Absolutely not. Besides, you have to…” Illus was trying to think of a good lie. “What’s the technical word for it? Hmm… ah, it’s no matter. You must be bound to it to use it.”
The fox’s smile grew and he peered over his shoulder. “You ought to be careful what you reveal, she is a wicked one deserving of her seal.”
“Yeah? Ciun?”
“Oh she’s cruel, quite a ghoul, with a spool, of hate’s fuel.”
“Hah, she seems awfully miserable. So skittish. So worried about that mask.”
The fox raised its head, trying to read Illus as he casually went about his cleaning. “Her secrets I shan’t share, nor hers mine to be fair. Yet others before have evened the score. Her hints, my glints, all the same, yet too tame. I know a spot to cast a line, where a former seeker left a sign. Ciun’s game, given name. Shall we-”
Ciun’s voice called out from atop a pillar behind them. “I banish thee, fox.”
The fox’s voice cackled away as it dissipated into blue mist, “-go? You will know.”
Illus glanced over his shoulder at her, seeing her atop a column several yards away and sighed. “I happened to be enjoying the fox’s conversation.”
“You have no business prying.”
Illus rolled his eyes. “Is the line ‘The keeper takes note of every sound,’ literal? Ani and I were unsure, but now I’m starting to think there’s no safe place but my own head, if even that cannot be listened into. No wonder the fox has gone insane.”
She didn’t respond.
“And the last couplet? ‘Ciun of the old world you will meet soon,’ or something or other along that line. I suppose the final missing line is ‘She will pester you ‘til you’re a loon.’”
“Is my company so disagreeable?”
“You’ve told me nothing about anything, pried my business the entire way, and kept me from the only other company here.” Illus smirked and pointed to where the fox had been. “He invited me to a personal fishing spot. That’s quite the accolade of friendship.”
She smiled sarcastically. “You believe the fox trusts you?”
Illus chuckled. “No. Nor I, it. Do I look a fool?”
“You have the boldness of one to be insulting me so.”
“Am I not allowed to test your bounds as you have mine?” He asked, looking into the river. “You’re more afraid of me than I am of you, Ciun. And I have no interest in whatever your game with the mask is, yet you persist. It’s as if you’re trying to bait me into lunging so you can cut my throat as the fox aims to. Not attacking the fox means it cannot harm me, and I presume you’re bound by the same rule. Thus I may live peacefully in peace. Am I wrong?”
She didn’t reply.
Illus didn’t follow up. He simply minded his own and fished in the gentle drizzle. After finishing with the rifle, he sat awaiting a bite, but the fish had no interest. Nevertheless, he found comfort in watching the river, hearing the water, letting the warm breeze pass through his hair, inhaling the musty scent of wet earth. The cloud of dark blue haze across the river loomed, a reminder of his imprisonment. Occasionally he would glance back to see if Ciun was still there, and she was. She kept watch for the fox, banishing it once more as it tried sneaking up beside Illus. Beside that one time, she was simply a silent warden whose eyes he could not read to see where she was looking.
Evening began rolling in and Illus knew he would have to bed down for the night, so he rose, eying Ciun, who was staring away from him, lost looking into the distance, her mouth moving slightly.
He listened carefully, if she was saying something, but all he heard was the gentle popping and bubbling of the river. Its rhythmic sound comforted him, then he realized she was idly mimicking it, making popping noises with her mouth, same as before.
Illus suppressed a snicker and decided to see what would happen. “Pop.”
Her mask flashed to him, unresponsive, but her pale cheeks flushed ever so slightly.
Illus shook his head and started walking away. “I never thanked you for giving my sister and Sator that chalice. It meant a lot to them, and to me. So thank you.”
He continued his slow hobble back to the shed, plucking two pears on the way to make up for his unlucky day of fishing.
Illus spent the next few weeks recovering, walking to the river every day that wasn’t a complete downpour. Ciun trailed behind him almost the entire time, ensuring the fox could never get close enough to entice him. Always atop a pillar, almost always silent except for a quick comment to shut him down. Illus stopped engaging with her at all after several days of failed attempts trying to learn where other food sources were, but receiving no clear answers. His haul was one fish if he was lucky, filling up with pears otherwise.
Despite all of this, he had very limited interaction with the fox. By their agreement it could only visit him in the daytime, and Ciun was around most of the time then. Illus tooted his own horn a little for making the deal, but worried for if the fox became further unhinged. It would stare from distances as he fished, leaving a fresh fish in front of his shed on days where he struck out. Illus began to wonder if the fox was purposefully enticing him, and what consequences could come from indulging the fox for a day of good fishing.