Mana was high in the sky by the time they reached the nearest town, a lively place called Grandrest. Jamil had finally reverted fully from the transformation, all the horns and scales gone. He was glad to fully close his coat, silently praising Master Jesper for crafting the enchanted article; it simply ceased to exist whenever he transformed and rematerialized when he changed back. It was Jamil’s most cherished possession.
Kit, on the other hand, did not have magic clothing, didn’t even come from a world that had magic at all. The ragged state of their clothes and their obvious discomfort made Jamil feel bad, so before setting out for Grandrest, he had used a few scraps from his own ruined shirt to repair Kit’s enough to keep it closed.
“Hey, thanks!” They had exclaimed gratefully, making Jamil’s ears turn red. He quite enjoyed helping others, when they’d let him.
The walk from the clearing in the woods to Grandrest was long but uneventful, which Jamil greatly appreciated because he was bone tired. On edge at first, his eyes constantly darting around for threats and jumping at every little sound, he finally began to relax after a few hours without incident. It didn’t appear they were being pursued; they would have been caught by now if so. The thought did little to make him feel better, though, and with nothing to distract him his mind wandered.
Master Jesper had been possessed by Vendic. If Vendic was able to use the mage’s magic remained to be seen. Jamil did not know what this meant for them yet, but he knew it wasn’t good. Time was short now, and without his master he felt helpless and alone.
To make matters worse, he had lost his sword back when he’d transformed at Mutehall. The image kept playing in his head, his hand losing its grip and his sword clattering to the stone floor. The missing weight at his back left him feeling naked. A new sword would be his first priority once they reached Grandrest, assuming he could find someone willing to trade steel for magic. The draught of truth, still tucked away in his coat pocket, should fetch a good price.
*********
Grandrest was a somewhat new town, established sometime before Jamil was born when a particularly fertile patch of farmland’s close proximity to Mutehall made it a hub of activity. Its tidy stone streets were lined with shop-fronts and vendor stalls selling produce and fresh meats, and every shop seemed to be packed with customers. A pretty Mystic woman with blue hair lay trays of fresh bread in her window, while a portly Vorran man two doors down called out about a fresh delivery of gossfish. Children darted in and out of the crowd, handing out samples from their parents’ stores. One child managed to slip something into Jamil’s hand without him even noticing. Blinking curiously at the tiny pink fruit, he ate it in one bite. Too sweet, but not bad.
When Jamil looked back at Kit to ensure they had not gotten lost, he saw them looking all around in wide-eyed wonder.
“What do you think?” He asked with a chuckle, and they smiled broadly.
“There’s so many people! Is it always this busy?” Someone bumped into Kit and they stumbled; both Jamil and the person who bumped them threw a hand out to catch them.
“Whoa, careful!” Jamil said.
“Sorry! Are you okay?” asked the stranger, and Kit nodded.
“I’m fine, thanks!” They said, and the person waved before continuing on their way.
“You okay?” Jamil asked, watching Kit adjust their clothes. They nodded with a touch of exasperation.
“I said I’m fine, don’t worry! I’m tougher than I look, you know. Little bump’s not gonna take me out.” Grinning mischievously, they started to run ahead but Jamil stopped them by grabbing the back of their shirt.
“I don’t think so, dummy. You better stay right by my side, because I'm not about to go looking all over Grandrest for you when you get lost.” He was beginning to understand their personality now and found he was less annoyed than he would have been a day or two ago. Kit looked back with a sheepish smile and stopped, allowing Jamil to catch up.
“Sorry.” They laughed.
They were approaching the center of town now, and festive decorations began to appear on the buildings and lampposts. Colorful banners embroidered with fruits and stars were hung between balconies while sprays of rose-hawks and mantis lilies adorned doorways. In the town center proper, several large tables had been set up, dressed in fine linens and decorated with more flowers and bowls of lemella fruits. Now Jamil understood why the town was so busy!
“Whoa, did we crash a party or something?” Kit asked, that now-familiar look of childlike amazement plastered on their face. Jamil couldn’t help but chuckle.
“It’s a birth-season festival.” He watched a costumed acrobat walk by, carrying pieces of scaffolding across the plaza to where a stage was being constructed. Kit was silent, and he realized they were giving him a strange look. “What?”
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“Birth-season festival?”
“Yeah?” Jamil was confused. Kit sounded disgusted.
“What is a birth-season and why does it need a festival?” They grimaced, and Jamil couldn’t stop himself from snorting out a laugh.
“Birth-season is when you’re born, dummy. Literally the season you’re born in. Every town celebrates at different times, depending on the season.” He watched as Kit processed what he said, then let out a laugh as their expression went from “clueless” to “gets it”.
“Oh, like a birthday!” They exclaimed.
“I guess? What’s a birthday?”
“The day you’re born.”
“What?!” Now Jamil was struck with culture shock. “You mean, on Earth, they have a whole day? Like, everyone has a different day?” How many days were even in an Earth year?!
“Well, yeah. Everyone has a birthday. A lot of people have the same birthday, it’s not like only one person has any given day or anything.” Jamil nodded while Kit explained it. It made sense, he supposed.
“That sounds like a lot to keep track of.” He frowned slightly, but Kit just smiled.
“It can be, especially if you know a lot of people. I kinda like how you guys do it, though. Like a big communal party for everyone.” They paused walking in front of a tailor’s and Jamil steered Kit inside. The shop was brightly lit and just as busy as the rest of town, packed with people shopping for ready-to-wear fashions for the festival. Jamil spotted a rack of plainer fare and headed for that, while a flashy red jacket grabbed Kit’s attention.
“Hey, Jamil?” They called, not taking their eyes off the jacket, lightly running their fingertips over its gold trim.
“What?” He called back, inspecting the seams of a simple black shirt. Impeccable work.
“When’s your birthday-season thing?”
“Oh, um, winter. End of winter, to be exact.” Selecting the shirt and another just like it, Jamil turned to Kit. “What about you?”
“Well, my birthday is in February, so…same as you, I guess. The end of winter.” Jamil stopped short, watching for a moment as Kit pawed through a rack of frilly things. Something tugged from within, seeming to pull him toward them.
“Hey, Kit?"
“Hm?”
“This may seem like an odd question, but…what is your age?” He felt foolish asking, but that nagging in the back of his mind would not go away until he got an answer. Kit didn’t seem to mind at all, and answered right away.
“Oh, I’m 19.” Just what he suspected.
“So, we’re the same age.” He joined Kit beside the rack of frilly things, trying to appear calm despite his suddenly racing heart. Kit gasped and looked at him like he had two heads.
“We’re the same age?!” They near-shouted, earning a disapproving look from the tailor, working silently in the back of his shop.
“Is that so hard to believe?” Jamil asked, amused. Kit floundered for words, making him laugh more.
“I mean, kind of! I assumed you were way older than me!” They were embarrassed, blushing to the roots of their hair.
“Why is that?” His tone was only slightly teasing; this was too much fun!
“I mean, look at you! You’re huge, for one. And, I dunno, you just…seem older. Mature.” Kit shrugged and hid their burning face behind a display of gloves. Jamil felt a pang of sadness at their remark.
“Master Jesper used to say that, too.” He said softly, selecting a pair of trousers without really looking at them. His thoughts drifted back to his earliest memory of his master: Jamil was 9 years old and had just lost both of his parents. With no one willing to take him in, the town elders had planned to sell him off until Master Jesper arrived to take him away. Young Jamil had been terrified, sobbing and inconsolable, but the kindly mage had stayed by his side and given him sweets to calm him through the entire trip from Vorrah to Mutehall.
“No more tears now, young one. You are home now.” Master Jesper had said when they arrived, and Jamil felt at ease for the first time in days. The mage’s aura was calming and gentle despite holding great power, and the boy soon grew to trust him. Raising Jamil as both a student and a son, Master Jesper would spend the next ten years training him to control his Curse and preparing him for the eventual task of protecting Kismet.
Now Kismet, or rather, Kit, was here, and Master Jesper was not. Jamil tried not to be bitter, and he wondered if it was even possible to save his master from Vendic’s grasp. Hopefully there would be answers at the Academy. He had to hope.
“Jamil?” Kit’s voice brought him out of his thoughts and he blinked.
“Yes?” His eyes widened and he laughed so loudly he started both the tailor and himself. Kit was wearing a bright yellow cloak that was far too big for them, a white belted pouch slung around their shoulders like a scarf and two different boots on their feet. They did a little spin and he laughed more, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Well, I’m glad that worked, ‘cause I look really stupid.” They said, standing with their hands on their hips. Jamil felt his heart swell at the gesture. Aside from Master Jesper, no one had ever tried to make him laugh like that.
“Thanks, Kit.” He said softly once the giggles subsided. Kit waved a hand.
“No thanks needed. My inner buffoon cannot be contained when my friends need cheering up.” They began to remove the extra items, humming casually while their words shook Jamil to his core.
“We’re…friends?” He tried to sound neutral but it came out like he didn’t believe it.
“I mean…yeah, I guess. Might as well be, right?” Kit shrugged and hung the cloak back up. “We’re kind of stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.” Their words so overwhelmed him with emotion that Jamil had to walk away, his face blazing red. He could hear Kit giggling behind him as he feigned a sudden interest in leather sun hats. It was impossible not to smile, though. He’d never had a friend before.
~