Chapter 4 — Paths

“...but a guard spotted me, and it turned into a mad dash from there. The last thing I remember was passing out at the bottom of that dell.” Rína concluded quietly, “and then you know the rest. My plan was to head to Westreach, maybe buy passage to a city even farther away, and then try to find work as an apothecary, or open a shop of my own.”

Rína herself was fresh out of the tub, sitting at the small kitchen table. She was dressed in a borrowed silk tunic and capris, with a towel across her shoulders that shielded the slightly too large clothing from her still damp hair. At the opposite end of the cottage, the massive canine, also recently cleaned, laid on the appropriately sized couch.

Rína waited for a response from Yvette, the two women sitting across from each other. Admitting to arson was a novel experience for Rína, and as far as she knew she was about to be thrown into the cold—or worse—because of it. To her, it felt like the umpteenth time in the last day that she had had to make a decision with too high stakes while working on too little information.

Rína took a sip of the tea Yvette had made for the two of them to calm her nerves. The tea was lemon with something else, maybe jasmine, but whatever it was, Rína held onto it like a lifeline.

“You mentioned that you used a chemical fuse for your firebomb. What did yours consist of?” was Yvette’s reply. The older woman continued to be impassive, just as she had seemed to be during Rína’s retelling.

Rína raised an eyebrow at the topic, “It was a mixture of…” Rína shared the formula with the woman “...thus the overall solution was an acid, but as the zatri salt and kodesium reacted, the solution became less acidic.”

“And once it became a base, the merrick ash would decompose, releasing a large amount of heat, melting the wax stopper, and igniting the firebomb’s accelerants,” Yvette completed, nodding in understanding.

“Yeah, that’s right...”

“Not a bad design, given what I’m assuming were limited means. Though you were lucky it went off at all.”

“What? No.” Rína scowled, “I tested it multiple times. All the tests went off, and on time too, give or take a couple minutes—no luck was involved.”

“And did you perform the tests inside a controlled laboratory or outside, exposed to the elements?”

“Well it was more of a workshop, but how would that…” Rína began, then stopped herself, “The cold…”

“Correct.” Yvette nodded, “If the temperature dropped too far below freezing, the marrick ash would not have decomposed, base solution or not.”

“Damn it…” Rína said, her eyes losing focus.

“The disconnect between laboratory and real world behaviors is something I’m all too familiar—”

“Fortic water. I could have used fortic water instead of marrick ash…” Rína mumbled to herself.

Yvette raised an eyebrow, “Which would have catalyzed the zatri salt…”

“Hmm…” Rína tapped her fingers against the table, “A few grams of lithich oil would inhibit that though… that… should work. Shouldn’t it?”

Yvette grinned, taking another sip of tea, “Yes, I think it would. And it would make for a good start on the improvements you could make.”

“Start?” Rína challenged, “I mean, it’s a fuse. It’s pretty simple, everything considered. There isn’t a whole lot of room for improvement.”

“Oh? Because in my experience, there are always improvements to be made, in any and everything,” the woman’s eyes seemed to shimmer as a grin spread across her face.

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between improvements and needless complexity,” Rína countered, “Especially when the complexity just adds more points of failure.”

“True, but what about next time when you have less forgiving constraints? For instance: what if the fuse’s contents were heavier than the accelerant or the accelerant container was too deep and the fuse’s contents lost too much heat before they reached the top?”

“Ok, granted.”

“—or what if the container had to be sealed and the fuse had to also blow the top open? Or what if you had hard limits on size and weight, and an entire barrel of accelerants was out of the question?…” the woman rattled off, almost to herself, “Something to think about for the future, I suppose.”

The conversation lulled as both women returned to their tea, before a thought occurred to Rína, “How do you know all this? As in, what is your experience? Actually, I mean.”

“You mean besides cackling beneath full moons?” Yvette began, “When you live so far from civilization you invariably pick up a few things, but it seems to be just about time for lunch. Are you hungry for anything specific?” Yvette asked as she rose and walked to the kitchen without waiting for a reply.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Rína didn’t want to drop the topic, but she doubted the woman would actually volunteer any information. It also didn’t help that she was in fact ravenously hungry. She had pushed her hunger—as well as a number of other concerns—to the back of her mind but as Yvette began making what might become an omelet, it resurfaced with a vengeance.

“Any and everything, if you have it,” Rína mumbled as she took another sip of—

Chamomile. It was lemon and chamomile tea. She knew she’d tasted it before. Master Andreou had bought some from a traveling merchant for Mrs. Andreou’s birthday last year, and the older woman had made a pot of it for everyone to try. They probably thought Rína was dead, or that she was about to be dragged back in chains.

Rína had trouble imagining what their reaction to the latter would be. True, she had spent a lot of time around the family, but she had never felt part of it. Would they think she was some kind of villain or that she was just doing what felt she had to. Rína genuinely had no idea.

Hopefully the Magistrate’s men hadn’t given them any trouble. Rína doubted the blame would fall to anyone else… unless they accused Master Andreou of making the firebomb for her. Especially since, as everyone knows, arson and incendiaries are anathema to the frail female constitution.

The clink of utensils and a ceramic plate being set in front of her brought Rína back to reality. On it was a thick omelet of spinach, feta cheese, mushrooms, and some kind of pinkish meat, all covered in a creamy golden sauce. Next to the omelet was the more usual fare of hash browns and bacon, and the plate itself was soon followed by a bowl of assorted berries and slices of mystery fruits, drizzled in honey and lightly dusted with powdered sugar.

Rína momentarily paused, caught between her sense of manners dictating that she speak her thanks and her hunger dictating that she instead use her mouth to devour the meal.

Unable to decide in the moment, Rína did both, “Tmmghou,” she swallowed the first glorious bite, “Sorry. Thank you. Gods, this is good.”

Yvette chuckled softly in response as she too began work on an identical meal set before her, “I’m glad you like it. It’s honestly nice to be cooking for someone else. The closest thing I usually get to it is dumping whatever sauce Felix is in the mood for onto whatever he hunted.”

Rína only then looked over to see the wolf missing from the living room—she hadn’t even heard it leave—but the giant wolf, oddly enough, was one of Rína’s lower priority concerns. In between mouthfuls of a breakfast blessed by the gods, Rína reluctantly returned to her most immediate concern.

“So… that’s it?” she began.

Yvette snorted, “I can make you seconds once I’m done with mine.”

“Wha—. No, I mean… It doesn’t bother you? I kind of expected more of a reaction for trying to burn someone’s house down.”

“Well, now with the benefit of hindsight, do you still feel that your arsonee had it coming?”

“Yes,” Rína stated resolutely, “Though… the people whose homes the fire spread to: not so much.”

Yvette nodded as she took another bite, “I only have your side of the story, so I’m not in any position to pass moral judgment. Now while arson is generally frowned upon, I think it’s naive to think that there do not exist problems for which the most appropriate solution is a firebomb. Whether or not yours was one such problem is not for me to say.” Yvette said with a shrug, “Oh, but it definitely is for me to say that your incendiaries could use some work.”

Rína chuckled pityingly, “Not like I’ll have many opportunities to practice in the near future.”

“Nonsense. You can use my lab,” Yvette said, motioning to the stairs leading underground, “I’ll show you around once we’re done eating, assuming you’re up for it.”

Rína stopped mid bite. A witch’s laboratory sounded like something from a children’s story. Part of her wanted to forget the meal and skip straight to exploring it. A much larger part of her however was mentally and emotionally exhausted. Simply adding to the pile of things she needed to process wouldn’t do herself any favors.

“Could we maybe do that tomorrow?”

“Hm? Oh. Right. Yes of course, that’s not a problem. Though how about after lunch I take your measurements so I can head downstairs and make you some actual clothes? As an aside: I have a writing desk and bookshelves upstairs that you’re free to make use of, as well as the kitchen of course.”

“Th-thank you… Are you sure this is alright? I don’t mean to turn down generosity, but this is a bit more than first aid.”

“Don’t give it a second thought,” Yvette waved off, “It’s cheaper than you would probably think, and this is simply how I treat guests,” Yvette clarified, leveling a hard stare at Rína, “at least the ones that remember their promises of discretion.”

----------------------------------------

Songbirds sang as a morning sunbeam streaked through the living room window and landed on Rína’s sleeping eyes. Cursing the sun’s existence, Rína opened her eyes with a lethargic groan, and through a bleary haze her gaze fell on the foreign ceiling of Yvette’s cottage. The usual disorientation of waking up somewhere new was prominent as she tried to order her surroundings.

She had fallen asleep by accident, tucked into one corner of the massive couch while she was idly writing and sketching her stray thoughts on paper from Yvette’s writing desk. The fruits of that almost meditative practice were strewn about her while the vast majority of the couch was taken up by its usual canine occupant. Rína was still wary of the wolf, especially since it wasn’t there when she fell asleep, but as it wasn’t currently smothering her, she could only see the situation as an improvement on the previous morning.

Something else that wasn’t present when she fell asleep was a large wardrobe that now stood against the far wall. Its doors and drawers were open to display a full, well, wardrobe, proving that the witch’s hospitality did indeed extend into the textile.

Rína knew that there were countless types of mages, but she somewhat doubted furniture mages or fabric mages existed. It was theoretically possible Yvette wasn’t a mage at all, but that possibility seemed less and less likely. Along with the odd ankle brace, which almost made her forget she was injured, the burn gel that now resembled healthy skin more than anything else, and the cottage itself that seemed to always stay at a comfortable temperature and somehow had hot running water, Rína couldn’t ignore the questions that the witch clearly didn’t want to answer. Regardless of whatever kind of mage she was, it certainly granted her a comfortable life. It seemed to be idyllic, living in what just had to be some kind of enchanted cottage in the middle of an aether desert.

“I’m an idiot…” Rína whispered to herself as her eyes went wide.

She looked down at the piece of paper containing her extremely rough drawing of the region’s geography. On it were arrows doodled along roads detailing possible routes she could travel, different literal paths her life could take. Most of them were scribbled out for being impractical, and all of them revolved around leaving.

It was incredibly presumptuous, the idea that was forming in her head, and she’d have to be careful about when and how she broached the subject, but she had to at least try.