Emily, Aybhas Chapel Shrine for Coyn, Harvest season, 9th rot., 3rd day evening
"This is what the Queen was talking about this morning, Great One," Thuorfosi deliberately loomed over me. I hated it when she did that. She wasn't as tall as Kayseo or Lisaykos but she was bulkier. Now that she was two seasons into pregnancy, she had got even heftier.
"This weather is not friendly to Coyn," she started in on me, "and you're smaller than most. A good wind could knock you over. Then you decide to go hurtling down a hill on a board. You infected all of the Sassoo Coyn with your insanity. Now six of you are broken. Just what were you thinking, little one?"
“Catharsis,” I said, holding my sore arm out of the way so Trainee Sanipsil could buckle my belt over my layers of tunics.
“What?” Thuorfosi hadn’t expected that for an answer. I could tell from the disconcerted look on her face.
I don’t know where my usual timidity went. It certainly went missing right then. I was a bit wary around two Cosm I didn’t know at all, Trainee Sanipsil and Priestess Issilvos, but I had shared a life-and-death escape with Arma and Twee, and I stopped feeling frightened of Thuorfosi long ago.
I wasn't in the mood to be harassed by my well-meaning keepers. My resentment came spilling out, buckets of it, "Thuorfosi, do I have to run away from home to regain my freedom, even if it is the freedom to be a little foolish and break my collarbone?"
“You’re not being reasonable, Emily,” she retreated in defense, forgetting to use the honorific. I certainly didn’t care about that but the trainee and Healer Issilvos were shocked.
“Or the freedom to be unreasonable?”
“That’s a lousy argument, Em,” Thuorfosi protested. I wasn’t giving her any room for attack.
"I was chatting with Lisaykos and Losnana after I got back from Truvos," I used a conversational voice as if I talked about this every day. "Lisaykos said an interesting thing. She remarked that she had loved moving from the palace in Is'syal to the Healing Shrine as a girl. By losing all the attendants she had had as a princess, she had gained her freedom in its place.
"She marveled at the simple joys of being able to do her own hair, pick out her own stockings in the morning and even be late if she wanted. No one had ever allowed her the freedom to be late before coming here and she reveled in it. Yes, Thuorfosi, love, the freedom to be unreasonable is still freedom, and I want all of my freedom back."
“This isn’t a year and a half ago,” Thuorfosi argued. “You don’t live in the forest anymore. You’re not some simple Coyn the Queen rescued in the wilderness. Everything about you has changed, Emily. You’re a revelator and the gods talk to you. You’re a blessed being and your safety and health are important. You just can’t run off and do reckless things that get you hurt.”
"Yes, like move into a building not built for Coyn or spend time with mentally-ill silverhairs who try to kill me," I shook my head in mock discouragement. "It is reckless living among all these gigantic magical people who are so dangerous."
The face Thuorfosi made was exquisite, with her mouth all scrunched up and her brows drawn down deep in a frown. "You," her voice was tense with forced patience, "are being uncooperative and contrary. Someone like you should be setting a good example. So, what did you do? You broke yourself and encouraged the self-damage of someone else's property."
Thuorfosi's choice of words just then was like a punch in the gut. It hit me how great the distance was between where we were now and the liberation of all those enslaved.
“So that’s what they are to you,” my voice had gone soft and flat, which is how I tend to speak when enraged. “My colleagues in a little foolish fun are just someone else’s property. They’re not musicians of the shrine or teachers of music; not mothers and fathers and their children; not people without the freedom to sleep in or be late or take a day off. They’re just property to you. How privileged I feel, being able to visit this repair shop for someone else’s property, to see that they can be fixed before their return in working condition to their owner.”
The events of the last five days came crashing back down on me, reminding me of rip rape and slave riots and gods who maneuvered me into extreme acts of destruction. I didn't want to see a single Cosm face right at that moment.
“Go,” I said. “Leave. I will not go back to the shrine with you. I do not want to even look at you. Just get out of my sight.”
“Emily,” Thuorfosi sounded shocked. She probably was.
“Get out, now.” If I hadn’t been clenching my fists, I suspect my hands would be trembling from the tsunami of my anger. I didn’t look up. I heard the door to the treatment room open and close. Then a pair of feet ran to the door and followed.
I ignored the pain in my shoulder. I pulled my bear paws out of the basket and started lacing them on. I pulled the muffler on around my neck. I swung around so I could walk down the ramp on two sides of the table which allow Coyn to get down from the table without jumping. I took my coat and mitts and walked down.
I did up my coat, put on my mitts, and walked to the door. "Open it," I ordered. I did not doubt that someone would obey. Then I walked down the hallway, past the intriguing sunken greeting counter where entering Coyn were at eye level with the healers, and out the entrance of the chapel shrine.
I didn’t know where I wanted to go or what I wanted to do. I just wanted to get as far away from any Cosm as I could. My anger was making me rash and I knew that. I needed to take the edge off it so I could think rationally. I was so fired up that I could barely put two thoughts together. I wanted to flail and hit things and scream at the unfairness and injustice of the universe but two lifetimes of experiences kept me from such public embarrassment.
For lack of anything better to do, I started walking into the growing twilight. I didn’t know where I was because I didn’t know the streets in the city. I put one foot in front of the other and the pavement vanished behind me as I became lost in the place where I lived. The irony was painful. I could tell from the rows of cheap Coyn-sized shacks that I was in one of the Coyn neighborhoods. These were mandatory housing for Coyn families. The residential units were set up to keep dangerous Cosm, especially young Cosm children, at a distance from easily -injured Coyn.
As my head cooled and the adrenaline rush wore off, my arm, neck, and shoulder began to throb with increasing pain. When I still lived in the forest, I would have had a rope made of combed and twisted cattail stalks on my belt. If this had been two years ago, I would have made a makeshift sling out of it. Lacking such a rope from my previous home, my arm now hung down unsupported and the pain was distracting.
I followed the flow of people walking, thinking that this might have been what the slums of London or New York looked like in the eighteenth or nineteenth centuries. The lack of barking dogs informed my ears that Aybhas was still quite different from the cities of Earth, even if the cheap buildings and clothes of the laborers looked like something I’d expect out of a Dickens novel.
The public necessary and bath buildings were another thing that looked foreign to me. These were spaced every few blocks. I watched the comings and goings at one of the public facilities with fascination. Several Coyn looked like they might be city slaves employed to run the place. They all wore working mantles with the stylized riverboat of Aybhas stenciled on them. They moved in and out of the building with buckets and cleaning brushes. After a while, one city slave noticed me and walked over.
“Welladay, youngster,” she smiled in a friendly way, “are you waiting for someone?”
I shook my head in a panic. I didn’t expect someone would actually talk to me. My inherent timidity asserted itself.
“If you’re looking for the towel window, girl, it got moved two rotations ago when the new water system was installed. It’s now down on Guttkos Alley. You need your mantle if you have to report a stolen towel and want a replacement. It’s the new rule.”
“New rule?”
“Your master should have told you,” she frowned in disapproval. “The towel thieves have gotten so bold. They’re stealing the public towels and selling them to the rag buyers for paper.” She studied me, “Where is your mantle? Do you have it on under that big coat? That’s quite a coat, and...Merciful Mugash! What are on your feet, girl?”
“Oh. These?" I lifted a foot, "I made these a few years ago. I used the pads and skin off of a dead bear cub for the covering. They are lined with deerskin and insulated with fox hair. They are very warm and make walking across snow much easier."
“Gods,” the woman’s eyes were round and she was gaping, though she wasn’t making a fish face yet. “Is your master a tanner or a leatherworker?”
“Well, not really,” I didn’t want to lie but I didn’t want to go down this path for a second time today, not when my head felt all muddled and foggy from losing my cool earlier. I attempted to change the subject, asking about something that confused me, “What is mixed with the water in your bucket? It’s almost black.”
“What are you saying, child? Are you simple? It’s just ash water for cleaning,” she was bemused by what must have seemed a nonsensical question to her.
Ash water: the contents of her bucket made sudden sense to me. Solutions of ashes were once the common cleaning fluid for dishes in the Middle Ages and Renaissance on Earth. Ashes mixed with water made a dilute solution of mostly potassium lye. It was an effective cleaner though rough on the skin.
I reminded myself that I should introduce nice soap made with sodium lye and olive oil to replace the horrific ash water and tallow concoction commonly used in this mostly bronze-age culture.
“Those are great boots,” a lovely baritone said from behind. “Evening, Gerta. Please tell me you changed your mind and you’ll follow me home tonight. How are you doing, Em?”
I think my heart got stuck in my throat at the sound of my truncated name in public. I looked up at a good-looking man with the hood up on his checkered purple-and-yellow mantle. His red beard was neatly trimmed and he had the most lovely green eyes. The smile was lovely too.
He winked at me so Gerta couldn’t see it, “do you remember me? We met outside the Crystal Shrine of Tiki.”
I studied his face, wishing I could see what his hair was like. Then I realized I had met only one Coyn outside the Crystal Shrine.
“I remember you,” I pointed. “You’re the stores manager at the Queen’s Villa. You came with the warning about the purple grain rust.”
“You do remember me,” he grinned like a little kid. “Gerta, this one isn’t from around here. She really did live in the forest for a time. She might not know about mixing ashes with water for cleaning.”
“Surd save me,” Gerta looked down at me. “What did you use to clean?”
“Ashes straight out of the fire pit for dishes and soapwort for skin,” I said.
“Interesting,” Gerta raised an eyebrow. “You must have lived on a homestead. That must have been very different from working in the city. I’d love to chat about it sometime. Do you get much time off?”
“Now, now, Gerta,” the man from the Villa interrupted. “This is my date. Tell me, little lady,” his voice softened, “are you lost? Do you need a guide to get back to the north market? I can walk you home if you would like.” He put a friendly hand on my shoulder and I flinched in pain.
“Are you hurt?” he pulled his hand away like it was on fire.
“What?” Gerta looked at me with appraisal.
“Gerta," the man cautioned in a weighty tone, "please, don't say anything, and don't react." He turned back to me, "You're hurt, yes?"
I nodded.
“Let me take you to the healers, please.”
“No, I won’t go back there tonight,” it came out of my mouth before my mind could catch up.
The man looked at me with speculation, “Were you one of the people that got injured at the garrison barracks where the Sassoo musicians and shrine workers live?”
I nodded again.
“I don’t understand, Great One. If you’re hurt, you need healing. Did something happen earlier with the healers?” He was tall. He got down on his knees to talk with my short self and took my hands in his. Concern was written across his face. “What can we do to help?”
I heard Gerta suck in her breath at the honorific but ignored it. I answered the man from the Villa. “I heard you were in Truvos too,” I took in the depths of those green eyes.
“You were quite ill when we found you,” he shook his head. “Do you remember that?”
“I remember a delightful baritone singing the Plea Hymn to Surd. I assume that was you?”
“It was. I was there for a special delivery. I usually don’t make deliveries except for when all the drivers are out or when the army or garrisons are called out.” He raised his eyebrows, “about this evening?”
“I lost my temper at a friend. I was so angry I grabbed my coat and walked out. I just had to get out of there, as far away as I could from any Cosm. It wasn’t rational but I wasn’t rational just then. That’s why I started walking, to cool off my head. Before I knew it, I was here and I confess I don’t have a clue on how to get back to my bed.”
“Do you want to go back?” he asked.
“I should go back," I hung my head, "but I don't want to. My head's in a bad place. The problem is that I'm really starting to hurt, now that I've calmed down and am no longer ready to murder every Cosm on Erdos. Why am I telling you this?" I looked at this man I had only met once.
“You know, the big people keep you up at the shrine where none of us are allowed to go except for you,” he squeezed my hands. “You’re surrounded by ruling silverhairs who keep you safe but isolated from your people who live down here in the bottoms and on the flats. I’m sure they mean well at the shrine. The Blessed High Priestess Princess has always been more considerate of our lives in Aybhas than most Cosm in Foskos. I’m sure she believes she has your best interests at heart but...”
“But?” I wanted to know. This man was summarizing how I felt about my living arrangements better than I could.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“They keep you too close, Great One. When you escaped to visit the Sassoo musicians last rotation with the Blessed Asgotl, it was welcome news. People were hoping you would come down the hill to visit more often. It was great that you got out today. I heard that you talked to an instrument maker this morning about some amazing new musical thing that can play more than one note at a time. Then you dropped in on the Sassoo people this afternoon to show them sliding on the snow. We want you to visit more. We want to talk to you. We are envious of the Sassoo folks that you spend time with. Don’t be a stranger, little Emily. We want to get to know you better.”
I was gobsmacked. I did not expect what he said.
He gave me a lopsided grin, “good fish face. Remember my name yet?”
“Py’oask,” I zipped back at him, returning the grin. Then it was time to be serious, “While I would like to go find the Surd-sponsored social hall where the Sassoo musicians sometimes play, which should be somewhere near here, I admit that my shoulder and arm feel worse with each passing moment. If you could walk me back to the north market, then I can get myself home from there.”
“You're not very big, Great One," Py'oask looked up at me. "I can carry you on my back up to the shrine's forecourt. If they see us coming, someone is sure to meet us or open the doors to the greeting table."
“No need for that, Great One," a lady Wraith on one knee said, appearing out of nowhere behind Gerta. Gerta gave out a little scream before clamping her hand over her mouth. Py'oask's eyes got big.
“Great One,” the Wraith bowed an obeisance, “please let me take you back to the shrine.”
“You are my shadow this evening?” I asked. It was only the third time that anyone on my security detail had dropped the charm of circular light.
“Yes, Great One.”
I shrugged at the good-looking man who had offered me his back, “Sorry, Py’oask. I think I just caught a ride back to the shrine.”
I confess I did enjoy Gerta’s and Py’oask’s fish faces.
“I need to carry you with both arms, Great One, to ensure your safety," the Wraith stood up and then picked me up. Then we vanished as she cast circular light. She flew to the south balcony over the city. Because of the charm, the view was amazing. We became visible again as we landed. Ursuldes in his wraith suit was waiting.
“Be careful,” my Wraith shadow told Usruldes as she passed me to him, “her shoulder is very painful. I can even see it and I’m not great with auras.”
“Thanks, Red Tail,” Usruldes looked at me. I couldn’t read his expression.
The doors opened on their own as did my bedroom door. Usruldes walked in and Twessera was waiting there. He put me down and turned to her, “How is she?”
“Still sobbing,” Twessera was somber. “Kayseo is with her now. Arma had to go back to the chapel shrine.” Twessera started unbuttoning my coat and Usruldes sat down.
“Well, I guess this is what an Emily temper tantrum looks like," Usruldes said with icicles forming off his breath.
“Don’t go there, chum,” I tried not to snap. “That’s not safe territory right now. I just managed to calm down. Don’t relight this fire.” I pushed Twessera’s hands away.
“Emily,” he sounded vexed with me, “Thuorfosi is in the dangerous first half of pregnancy. She hasn’t stopped weeping since you banished her from your presence. Even if we calm her down, the healers will need to put a day-and-night in-person watch on her for a rotation to make sure this doesn’t trigger a miscarriage. Lisaykos is keeping Wolkayrs contained because not even godmarks will stop an enraged husband. You’ve created a bit of a mess, Emily.”
I lost it again. My control vanished and I raised my voice, “Usruldes, just stop.” I took a deep breath and held it until the desire to scream left me. I closed my eyes and kept them closed.
I heard the door open from Lisaykos’ bedroom. “You, sit in that chair and don’t move,” Lisaykos said to someone in her room, who I assumed was the offended Wolkayrs.
“Emily," Lisaykos kept her voice soft and gentle, "Arma said that Thuorfosi told you that you had damaged someone else's property. That's how Thuorfosi described the Sassoo Coyn with whom you were playing in the snow at recklessly high speeds. Is this true?"
“Yes,” I managed to say.
“What did you say to her?”
“I lost my temper, completely and totally. I wasn’t thinking. I was too angry to think. I wanted to take every Cosm on the planet and drown you all in the sea. I didn’t want to look at a Cosm ever again. I would cheerfully have sent each one of you into the great sucking mouth of Uedroy to spend the rest of all time in the deepest coldest hell. That's how angry I was. I didn't want to see Thuorfosi again for as long as I lived, so I told her to leave. That's all."
“That’s all?” Lisaykos said in a strange tone of voice. I looked up at her to see one raised eyebrow but no judgment on her face.
“Then I took a walk to cool my head off, realizing I wasn’t exactly rational and not fit for polite company,” I added.
“So do you still not want to see Thuorfosi ever again?”
“Don’t be dense, Lisaykos,” I snarled. “That was my anger talking. I’m sure I’ll be calm enough to talk to her tomorrow, maybe.” There was a long pause. “I’m sure she just misspoke herself,” I felt obliged to fill the silence.
“Do you think, perhaps, you might have overreacted just a bit?” Lisaykos suggested, not unkindly.
“No," I stated as factually as possible. "I am not the person who sent a pregnant lady to fetch me back to my cage and I'm not the pregnant lady who chose to chastise me for having a little mindless fun after some of the least pleasant days I have ever spent. No. I am not responsible for either the pregnant lady or the undeserved chastisement. I will own the bad temper, nothing else."
“You see, Aylem, dear," Lyappis' voice wafted in from Lisaykos' bedroom, "even our saintly little prophet, known for her even temperament, can suffer from explosive anger. She tends to be a perfectionist too, in her own way."
“Yes, dear heart,” Aylem sounded so nagged that I almost laughed, despite feeling out of sorts.
"I'm glad you're finally understanding this," Lyappis sounded like a cat in cream. "Note that in the prophet's case, she recognized the rage and removed herself from others to minimize the damage. Even so, if she had the means to relieve her frustration at her current living arrangements, she might not have reacted so badly. She was worse off than usual given the revelation of the slave riots followed by the divine destruction of Salicet. She's probably more stressed than you over that.
“Remember our discussion about triggers?” Lyappis continued, "Emily was already under a state of stress, and hearing Priestess Thuorfosi label her Coyn friends as property was her trigger. This is why you need to be aware of your own triggers and disarm the ones you can ahead of time."
“I get it, Lyappis,” Aylem sounded just a tiny bit grumpy.
“Yes,” Lyappis paused, “finally, you show you understand. Lisaykos, dear, this is what I was talking about the other day about our little prophet. Her shrine family is also one of the sources of her frustrations. She needs away from you all to spend time with other Coyn, regularly. Did you not hear that potent word she used in calling her home her cage? Now, will you listen to me, mistress? Emily is not my patient but that is my professional opinion. Come, Aylem, let's look in on poor Thuorfosi, who really did have a bit of a shock. I can say hello to my future granddaughter at the same time."
Right then, I was ready to declare Super Grandmother Lyappis a saint.
“I overheard that thought, Great One,” Lyappis shouted from further away. “I would prefer tribute over sainthood. I think two cases of bogberry syrup and a fresh salmon delivered to my Truvos residence every rotation would do nicely. Don’t forget!”
That did make me laugh, and everyone else did too. I laughed longer and harder than the humor warranted. That told me I still needed some more catharsis. The vision of that poor slave's rip-raped daughter would haunt me for a long time, as it was still haunting me now. I was trying not to think of Salicet, so I wasn't even going to admit how much it bothered me.
Once again, I admired Lyappis’ skill at defusing a stressful situation. She was amazing: she had come in and applied all the right words to head off another tense exchange of words between me and my keepers. At the same time, she used it as both a teaching moment for Aylem and advice for Lisaykos on the terms of my luxury captivity.
One thing puzzled me about what Lyappis had said. “What was Lyappis saying about a future granddaughter? I thought all her grandchildren were already all grown up,” I asked.
Lisaykos laughed and then shook her head, “Didn’t anyone tell you? Lyappis was talking about Kayseo, who will become her granddaughter by marriage. Kamagishi's younger son will be marrying Kayseo soon. Then they will go on immediate leave to make babies and future heirs for Pinisla. General Bobbo and Captain Tyoep will get married at the same time and the captain will take her own leave. Lt. Looxyas haup Gampff will become the new captain at the garrison."
“No, no one told me," I was surprised and a little unhappy. I would be losing my everyday connection to Kayseo. On the upside, that nice Lt. Looxyas was getting a promotion. "Now, could I get some help with the pain in my shoulder? Then I believe I want to kick you all out and go to sleep if someone would be so kind as to use a deep sleep charm."
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The Coyn Py’oask and Gerta, the northeast residential quarter for Coyn in Aybhas, Harvest season, 9th rot., 3rd day evening
The Coyn on the street by the wash house got onto their feet, shaken and wary by the appearance of a Wraith. They had all fallen to their knees when the huge black-clothed silverhair appeared out of nowhere. She had to be a silverhair since she was taller than the usual Cosm and she used powerful magic.
Most had never seen a Wraith before but everyone knew what the silverhair in black was: one of the secret assassins and enforcers who worked directly for the Royals. Such a person was dangerous and could do anything she wanted to a Coyn who had no power even to flee. The Wraith appeared, knelt, and paid obeisance to a Coyn girl, who looked about 12 to most eyes, and then took the girl away, calling her "Great One."
Was that girl the rumored prophet who lived at the shrine? People began to crowd Gerta and the man from the Villa, looking for answers.
“Is that you, Py’oask?” someone shouted. “Was that the prophet just now?” Py’oask was a well-known figure. As a person from the Villa who traveled on business, and who carried news and gossip between communities, he was near the top of Coyn society. He even knew how to read and write, and could use numbers.
“Calm down, folks, calm down," Gerta, the crew boss at the wash house shouted back. "Give the boy space to breath."
“Yes, that was the Blessed Emily,” Py’oask said at a volume most people could hear. “I met her during planting season, in the army camp next to the Tiki Shrine. She helped me out there.”
“What was she doing here, Villa man? Why did that Wraith take her away in the middle of the street?” someone else shouted from the edge of the small crowd.
“The prophet was taking a walk and got lost,” Py’oask smiled at people to reassure them. “She doesn’t know the streets. She was one of those hurt this afternoon with the Sassoo folks who had the sledding board. She hurt her shoulder. The Wraith showed up to take her back to the shrine cuz she was hurt and lost. It’s not that big a deal.”
“You have a funny idea of what’s a big deal,” Gerta remarked with some disbelief. “First, there’s our prophet and then a big scary Wraith shows up in front of my wash house, and you don’t think it’s a big deal? You’ve been drinking too much of that ale you drive around, boy.”
“I’m here carrying delivery orders and route schedules for my drivers, Gerta, and not the Queen’s ale,” he smacked her lightly on the back.
Just then, a city guard on a griffin flew over the small crowd, low and slow.
“Damn,” Py’oask looked up and scowled. “Alright folks, let’s break this up. I’ll be at the Northeast Surd Hall later. We’re upstairs at half before the first night bell if you can come and want to learn to read. Singing will be after that. Beno from Sassoo will be there tonight.”
The crowd vanished. It was never good to be noticed by the guard. The griffin circled and landed in front of Gerta and Py’oask. The silverhair officer, since only silverhairs had mounts, got off and approached. The two Coyn got on their knees and bowed their heads. The guard studied their mantles.
“A city slave and a Coyn from the Villa,” the guard officer remarked. “You may look up and speak. What was happening here?” The city guards had been on edge ever since the riots in Surdos and Kas three rotations ago. They had been breaking up gatherings and imposing earlier curfews in Aybhas ever since.
“Welladay, Mistress,” Gerta was respectful and meek. “The prophet was here. We were talking with her. Then a Wraith came and took her back to the shrine.”
The guard officer frowned and took a crystal out of a pouch, “You know what this is, yes?”
“I do, mistress,” Gerta’s voice shook. This had never happened to her before. She stared at the special crystal that the officers of the city guard used to cast the charm of compulsion.
The officer cast the charm. Gerta felt a warm feeling travel through her.
“Is what you just told me the truth, crew chief Gerta?” the officer had read her mind for her name.
“Yes, mistress,” Gerta couldn’t stop herself from speaking. She was no longer in control of herself.
“Is there anything you held back from what you told me?”
“Yes, mistress. The prophet told us she was lost and she was hurt. My friend Py’oask here offered to help her get home. That’s when the Wraith showed up, to take her back to the shrine.”
“Ah, I understand now. Very good. You two may go about your evening.” The officer leapt into her saddle. Her griffin walked to where the road was clear of Coyn, who had all vanished from this stretch of the street. Then it took off.
“Are you alright, Gerta?” Py’oask helped her up.
“That was frightening,” Gerta got on her feet and then fell into Py’oask’s chest, feeling like she wanted to faint.
“Come on, give that bucket and brush to one of your crew and let me take you for some of that beer Minsk has been making down at the Hall. You look like you could use a drink or eight right now.”
“I won’t be good for the reading lesson tonight if I do that,” Gerta said, righting herself.
“People will want to talk tonight,” Py’oask pointed out. He offered his arm. “I doubt there will be much of a lesson.”
“Hey, are you sweet on that prophet girl?” Gerta accused. “I saw you looking her over.”
“What? Me?” he laughed. “You know I like mature tall women like yourself, lovely lady.”
“Tease,” she mock punched him in the gut.
“And cute little boys,” he said with mock contemplation.
“Beast,” she laughed. He laughed back. She passed her cleaning gear off to a crew member and she and Py’oask went drinking.
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Lisaykos, Healing Shrine, Harvest season, 9th rot., 4th day
“Why me?" I indulged myself with a moment of self-pity, collapsing into the armchair next to the lounge against the north wall closest to my worktable. Both Senlyosart and Aylem were sitting there, waiting for the staff to set up for the morning repast. "This is all your fault, Aylem. If you had left that bundle of trouble in the forest, I wouldn't have had to suffer the argument I just had with Fassex. Gods."
“What’s this?” Kamagishi strolled in followed by Losnana. “Our beloved Fassex argued with you? Pray tell, what about?” Kamagishi looked quite intrigued. The Convocation’s biggest gossip was grinning which didn’t help my mood at all.
“After I woke her, Emily declared that she isn’t going to travel anywhere today,” I explained. “Then she rolled over and went back to sleep. I needed to ask Fassex to pass the news along that we must postpone another day. She insisted that I overrule Emily. I think she doesn’t like the thought that there’s someone who is not a high priestess who can dictate to the entire Convocation if she wants.”
“Or is it that someone can dictate to the Convocation who is a Coyn?” Kamagishi sat down across from me.
“Fassex isn't a racist snob," I opined. "She is quite kind and fair with Coyn. Fassex's problem is that she is a Fassex snob and she also just loves to argue for the sake of arguing."
“So, you’re postponing our meeting in Weirgos because Emily doesn’t want to travel?” Kamagishi prodded. “That doesn’t sound like a great reason to postpone such an important set of meetings.”
“There’s a lot of pain in her aura this morning from the injury yesterday,” I leveled a disapproving glare at my younger colleague who was soon to be the mother-by-marriage to my darling Kayseo. “I am less concerned about that than I am about the pain she is carrying around in her soul. You might not know the signs that Emily is very stressed right now, but I do because I live with her.
“The last two rotations have wound her up like a prell string that’s tuned too high. I do not want to force her to travel in her current state of mind to a Convocation meeting. That will just make her worse. In hindsight, I’m not surprised she snapped yesterday afternoon. She feels like we have caged her here. I do not want her to leave but for her own sake, she may need to. What happened yesterday was just a symptom.”
“I am not sure I understand you, Sister Lisaykos,” Losnana said in her Impotuan accent with the drawn-out vowels. “Are we not the avatars of the gods and is not the Blessed Emily our prophet? I would think it meet and right that she abide at a shrine with at least one of us, and it is clear to me that she cares for you, and you for her.”
I had to sigh over that, “Emily is a free spirit who feels trapped. As time has passed, the cage around her has become more substantial. The people who provide her protection are members of the same race that tried to enslave her, maimed her as a girl, recently abducted her twice now, and tried to murder her.
“She will always feel helpless with us,” I explained, “even with her friends, because of the difference in physical size and magical power. If we decided to force her to stay here and never let her out, she would be powerless to stop us. Her solution to the problem of Cosm in the past was to flee to a place far away from us. Now she is conflicted between her need to feel safe from Cosm and her affection for her Cosm friends. It’s been a difficult thing for me to admit, but I can no longer deny what we are doing to her.”
Aylem grimaced and hung her head, “I had hoped she would lose her fear as she got used to us. Many Coyn do.”
“Even if she did, she still needs to get out, dear heart," I had to shake my head. "Lyappis is right. Emily needs to spend time with other Coyn. I just worry since the high-quality Coyn from the Shrine of Sassoo will be moving back to Black Falls before Growing Season next year. I don't mind her making friends with them; however, I can't say I like her socializing with spoot slaves down at one of the Coyn social halls."
"And when all Coyn slaves are freed in one or two years from now, what about then?" Senlyosart posed.
“Then they will be former spoot slaves,” I scowled. “I guess I have my own biases, don’t I?”