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Ginseng and Yew [人蔘 + ᚔ ]
39 - Is she a good cook?

39 - Is she a good cook?

Sou Yuet woke to singing.

Soft, so soft, but pressed against the necromancer's chest, they could feel the deep rumble of song, as a familiar husky voice curled around unfamiliar words.

“Int én bec

ro léic feit

do rind guip

glanbuidi

fo-ceird faíd

os Loch Laíg

lon do craíb

charnbuidi ...”

When this was done, the necromancer repeated it again, the strange refrain lulling the monk into a trance.

“Pang Yau...”

“Oh, ye're awake?”

“Mm. What does that song mean?”

“Ah, it's just a bit of nonsense about a town near me birthplace. Or, more like, about a bird ye commonly see there.”

Sunny snuffled in her sleep, much drier now, and warm. The three of them lay in place, listening to the multitude of birds lifting their morning calls to the brightening sky.

“Maybe we should just go back,” the necromancer said suddenly.

“If that's what you want. But why now?”

“I'm... wondering if we did the right thing.”

“You mean coming here?”

“No. Yes... I mean...” The necromancer stared at the interior of the tree above them until his view was blocked by Sou Yuet's face.

“Hm?”

A faint pink flush crept across the necromancer's pale cheeks. “I mean... us.”

“Do you regret it?” Sou Yuet was smiling, but their voice caught.

“Not like that! Actually, what are ye thinking? Ye're supposed to be keeping an eye on me as a prisoner, not-”

“Doing things like this?” Sou Yuet lifted the necromancer's hand and gently kissed the calloused fingertips. The witch looked ready to faint.

“Exactly! Ye smooth fecker, how'd ye learn to do things like that?”

“It just seemed like a nice thing to do.” Sou Yuet patted the hand. “Hm... Yes, I suppose this could cause some problems.”

“Could? If the Aiteann Court find out, they'll...”

“Pang Yau...” Sou Yuet massaged the necromancer's hand distractedly. “I think I already know the answer to this but... From everything I've gathered during the time I've known you, your heritage isn't an ordinary one. Your mother seems to be some kind of Immortal, at the very least. Why allow mortal systems of governance and justice dictate your actions?”

“Is that what ye'd do, Yuet? If ye were me, would ye sneer at the mortal eejits trying to bind ye to their ways?”

Sou Yuet removed their jade identification talisman from their belt. Below the main plaque and above the tassel was something that the necromancer had always thought was a large jade bead, but the monk cracked it open, revealing a tiny roll of paper inside. The paper was covered in tiny characters in black ink, followed by three larger characters that seemed to have been block printed in red ink.

“What's that then?”

“After the Great Demon War, it was agreed that the open presence of Immortals in the mortal realm was a dangerous thing. With their powers, the whole world could easily be thrown into chaos. Even those seeking to do the utmost good could bring the worst devastation. And so, those who undertook cultivation paths had to sign this oath once they were accepted into a school or by a Master.” Sou Yuet smoothed the paper thoughtfully. “An oath that, should the cultivator Ascend, they are not to return to the mortal realm except under exceptional circumstances. If they do return, there is a limit to how much they may interfere in the mortal realm's events.”

“How the feck does something like that get enforced?”

“Oh if somebody did something, there are a good many powerful persons in the Heavenly Realm who would quickly deal with them.” Sou Yuet smiled. “Si fu lived through those times. He assured me that his fellow martial siblings, and his own Master, would not let such actions stand. Does this make sense?”

But the necromancer was looking at the paper, specifically at the red printed characters. “What's this bit? Looks like... a bird with some sticks? And then... hands plaiting something... and a semicircle...”

“That's my name.”

The look in the necromancer's eyes changed as he considered the symbols. Sou Yuet took the witch's hand and traced his finger along the characters. “The bird and sticks – well, it's a dagger-axe, actually – that's Yuen. A hawk. And then the hands plaiting silk, that's Sou, meaning white silk, or something that shines. And the semicircle is the crescent moon, Yuet.”

The necromancer traced the characters again by himself. “Weird... It makes sense but... ye'd have to remember how to say all these words. Yeah couldn't work it out just by looking at them.”

“Is there a written language in Íriu?”

“Can I borrow ye little knife?”

Having obtained the dagger, the necromancer began to carve a series of lines into wood next to him. Sou Yuet examined them.

One single vertical line ran down the middle, with shorter lined scored across it. First, a set a five diagonal lines, then a set of five horizontal lines, then two diagonal lines again, a single horizontal line, three horizontal lines that met the long midline and stopped there, before ending with the five horizontal lines again.

“All straight lines, easy to carve into wood with a dagger,” Sou Yuet observed. “You said the name of your language meant 'wood', didn't you? This makes sense. What does this say?”

“It's Mam's name. Here...” As Sou Yuet had done, the necromancer now took the monk's hand and traced the carvings.

“It's pronounced R-Ī-G-A-N-Ī.”

“So these symbols tell you how to pronounce a word, but not what it means?”

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“Yeah. The opposite of yours, it seems.”

They both fell back into silent contemplation.

“Pang Yau.”

“Hm?”

“I've lived a life without strong desires,” Sou Yuet began, untangling themselves to sit upright, but the necromancer's grip tightened, a panicked look on his face. “What's wrong?”

“Ah! I just... No, it's nothing...”

Sou Yuet squeezed his hand. “I'm just sitting up so I can see you properly. I'm not going anywhere. It's okay. As I was saying. I've lived a life without having strong desires so far. For me, having somewhere to sleep, some food, and peace, is all I've needed. But this...”

The monk smiled as though they were about to cry. “This is the first time I've wanted something so much. And I don't want to think right now. I don't want to try and decide if it's right or not. I just want to hold on to this happiness, even if it's only for a moment. Does that make sense?”

Both of them were shaking. Sou Yuet's breath was shallow and uneven, and their eyes moved back and forth over the necromancer's face anxiously.

“Yeah. It does.”

“I won't get in your way. Just let me stay with you, even if it's only for a little while.”

“Get in me way? What d'ye mean? What 'only for a little while'?” The witch felt Sou Yuet's hands begin to sweat under her grasp. “Yuet, what is it?”

“I'm sorry...”

“Ye're sorry what? Ye scaring me.”

“Remember... when we met Lord Hadyahosh...”

“How could I forget.”

“'You took the life of Lady Anqa, and so you will be punished'.”

“... Hey... Hey hey hey, what are ye-”

“I'll have to go back one day and face my punishment.”

“What punishment, ye fool? Ye had no choice!”

“Did I?”

“We've been through this before,” the necromancer gritted out, frustrated. “Ye did nothing wrong.”

“I still killed her.” Sou Yuet squeezed the necromancer's hand. “Pang Yau, everything we do has a consequence. You know this. Why else did you let the Aiteann Court arrest you in the first place?”

“Well, those bastards do have some tricks up their sleeves for trapping the Aes sídhe...”

“You could have joined the Hunt, or disappeared into one of the other places where your people live. And my saying that 'I had no choice' doesn't change the fact that someone died because of me.” The monk paused. “And I told the King Unto the Mists that I was already bound to return to the lands of Lord Hadyahosh for his judgement.”

“What the feck does that have to do with the King?”

“Why do you think he treated us so belligerently?”

“He... Is that it? He heard about what happened and-”

“Believed me to be a threat. It wasn't the Hunt, or you. It was me. He let me go because I told him I would face the judgement of Lord Hadyahosh. He said something then... I know I have to go back. Perhaps it sounds foolish-”

“A geas.”

“A what?”

“He laid a geas on ye. A... a rule, I guess. If ye break a geas...”

“You die, I assume?” Sou Yuet asked cheerfully.

“Yuet, this ain't funny.”

“I was going to go back anyway, so it just seems a bit unnecessary.”

“Damn it all to Tech Duinn!”

“Where?”

“It's my damned fault for-”

“Is this really a useful thought process to follow right now?”

“... No, ye're right. Let's go find Mam first.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“Mam's birds will lead us there.”

Sou Yuet poked their head out of the hollow to see the three birds roosting in the surrounding trees, heads under wings. A little disconcerted by the strange experience of being unable to tell how large or far away the birds were, the monk returned back to the hollow.

“Do they only move at night?”

“That's right, and the sun's just rising. We've slept through the whole damned night.” The necromancer's stomach growled. “I don't think I've eaten properly in weeks.”

“Then let's find something to eat. Sunny?”

The si zi whimpered faintly but otherwise did not respond. The necromancer patted her, and her stubby tail wagged weakly in response.

“Hey, Sunny? What's wrong, coileán?”

“I think she's exhausted.” Sou Yuet checked her injured paw, a faint green glow dancing from their hands to settle on the wound. “She hasn't eaten well either. What will her parents think...?”

“So we'll feed her lots, 'specially when we get to Mam's.”

“Is she a good cook?”

“Hm... not really. But she always has plenty to go around.”

“There... I've done what I can for her. Let's go find food.”

They left the fur cloak over Sunny and crept into the forest. One of the birds opened an eye to watch them leave, but otherwise, there was no movement.

The pickings of late winter and early spring are slim. With the majority of plants only just beginning to produce a little green matter, vegetables were in short supply.

Meat it was then.

The necromancer reached out with a mixture of reluctance and nostalgia, finding the spirit of a red squirrel that had failed to put on enough fat to hibernate through the long winter. In the squirrel's limited mind, there were deer nearby. Sou Yuet, eyes shining green, agreed.

“There's bark stripped from the trees over in that direction. The deer are obviously hungry.”

Finding the deer and picking off a straggler was easy, although Sou Yuet's hand trembled for a moment before the dagger cleanly took the deer's life. They sat for a long time in silence, bowed with eyes closed, before finally rising and covering the blood with earth and ivy to hide their traces.

Sunny was fed small morsels until she was able to eat by herself, every scrap of the deer carefully consumed. They didn't light a fire, any wood being too wet, as well as the high likelihood of it drawing unwanted attention. They ate the meat raw, still warm, the necromancer silently pulling faces, the monk stoic and expressionless.

The necromancer was examining the deer bones thoughtfully as he buried the remains when a soft call from one of the birds made him look up. He slipped into female form and clicked his tongue to the deer spirit, who rose from the bones and flowed away from the makeshift camp. Sou Yuet's eyes were bright green; the monk was evidently observing through the surrounding plants.

Not five kilometres away, a party of mages were moving through the forest.

“Are ye certain they're around here?” asked the one who seemed to be in charge, a thin, gloomy-looking man in dark grey robes. He carried a wooden staff with a deer antler attached to the top.

“Positive,” came the reply. The man who spoke had familiar burnt-orange hair, and blue eyes. “They've been headed this way for months now, and tracks were found on the beach south of Clíath Dubh, two humans, and a large dog-like creature.”

“Two humans? Then it can't be them. That thing isn't human, after all.”

Harsh laughter greeted this quip. The necromancer found Sou Yuet's hand.

“What's that?” the leader said sharply, turning in the direction of the deer spirit. The ghost stood absolutely still, the necromancer holding her breath. Slowly, the mage began to approach, eyes narrowed as he stared at the spot where the spirit stood. He raised his staff, and the necromancer relinquished her possession of the spirit with a hiss. She glanced at Sou Yuet, whose eyes were still glowing green and turned in the direction of the mages.

Quickly, she finished burying the remains of the deer. Sou Yuet shook themselves, the green fading from their eyes. “I'll finish up.”

They summoned the ginseng leaf, and all three piled on, Sunny just about able to fit. The monk encouraged more ivy to creep across their remaining traces, including the inside of the hollow tree where they had rested that night. The necromancer called softly to the birds with that same strange sound she had made before, and they blearily flew down to her, resting on her shoulders and head. Sou Yuet still couldn't tell how big they were, and quickly decided to stop looking.

“I'm going to wring that bhard's neck one day.”

“Let's get away from here first.”

It was still only midday. The birds huddled drowsily, somewhat tucked into the necromancer's wild dark hair. At her direction, Sou Yuet flew them north, with one of Sunny's paws dangling off the ginseng leaflets. They had to stay low, slowing their progress, and by the time the sun was setting, Sou Yuet was clearly tired.

The birds became more and more alert, ruffling feathers and blinking, heads swivelling about. At last they began to flap their wings experimentally, and took wing.

“One last bit, Yuet. Follow them quick.”

The leaf flew after the owls, and all at once, the air changed. It had the same sparkling quality of the atmosphere in the mound of the Tylwyth Teg.

They all dropped to the ground, soft with grass and moss underfoot, and through the green-clad trees they could see a small round stone hut, where smoke rose from a hole in the thatched roof. With the birds leading the way, they approached the hut as a figure appeared in the doorway, head and neck leading first.

The necromancer nodded nervously, hand gripping Sou Yuet's.

“How are ye, Mam?”