“You—what are you doing here? She’s not fond of visitors,” Talon asked, his voice as cool and sweet as a poisoned oasis.
Beside me, Nania froze, glancing between us as if one of us were sprouting horns and wings. A storm of emotions fluttered about on her face. I Elian The King I wanted to look away from them both, to return my expression back to its pleasant smile. Something was wrong with my face. It wasn’t obeying.
“Talon—? Wait, who is she—you’re joking, this can’t really be the home of the Goddess of Fl—?”
Doubt and betrayal settled across Nania’s freckled features. Everything was going exactly as I had intended, and Elian found his smile once again. Doubt must have sharpened further into cold points of suspicion in her heart as the hazel-eyed boy cheerfully greeted her love, “Talon, good t’see you. Were you just leaving? We’re really just here for Hallow Zaya, don’t mind us, but I’m the only one who needs to talk to her, and I’m sure you and Nia have a lot you want to get caught up on—”
“Elian,” she said, lightly smacking him on the shoulder. Her face had hardened into disappointment and unmistakable exhaustion, sending a cold shiver down his spine. Beneath those emotions was a hint of something else as well—fear? She quickly looked away, back towards Talon.
Talon, strangely for him, was making a half-hearted attempt at seeming bored and apathetic. Beneath that, clear and familiar anger smoldered in his night-dark eyes. An anger that would push him to annihilate the Sun Fiend and anyone associated with her, to tear down all the injustice in the world wherever it grew. It was almost beautiful in its destructiveness, like wild, hungry flames or the omen of a shooting star. He and Nania locked eyes for a moment, apparently enraptured by each other after going for just a week apart. The only thing stopping them from rushing into each other’s arms was the intruder standing beside them.
“If we’re going to talk, then all three of us are going to talk,” she spoke, with impressive control.
“Has Gresha City already caught on to your ruse?” Talon askedthe King bitterly. His mouth twisted into a cruel little smirk, barely there. “I’m not cleaning up your messes anymore. And neither is the Goddess of Flowers.”
Elian laughed airily. Heart pounding, throat dry. “I’m still their beloved King, Angran. And Nania here is actually my Head Priestess now. Do you know what that means? One of our responsibilities is—”
Both Talon and Nania took turns to snap at him at that. Though Nania knew exactly what he was doing, it didn’t stop it from working, even as she demanded answers.
“I’m sure Talon would be happy to explain it to you,” the King replied, glancing towards the Angran again.
He seemed to take offense at that, throwing a punch. With ease I blocked it, biting down on an almost relieved laugh.
Again she insisted on all three speaking, only for betrayal to flash across her face as Talon barred the door from them both. The King chewed at his lip—if he could get Hallow Zaya’s attention, Talon wouldn’t be able to refuse the owner of the house. But he wouldn’t want to stay in the house with his enemy, either. That would force him outside with Nania, where they would talk and realize what it was they both desired…
It would have been a perfect plan, had the goddess herself not chimed in just then.
“Absolutely not! Take it outside! Whatever it is, finish it outside!”
Though the King’s outer expression barely changed, his heart fell, realizing there would be no easy way to do what he came to do and leave. Talon was caught with a look of almost comedic embarrassment compared to his usual scowls, while Nania seemingly forgot the argument and stood tip-toe, trying to catching a glimpse of the goddess with wide, green eyes.
While Nania strained and craned her neck, Talon’s cheeks burned a deeper and deeper red, throat making tiny movements as he seemed to think to himself, as he finally locked eyes with me. He raised one hand to point with, and my heart stopped.
“I want to challenge you to a duel,” he pronounced.
----------------------------------------
Talon’s departure marked the end of the ‘conversation’. For a brief moment, Nania had seemed torn between the two of us. In the oceanic glow of Hallow Zaya’s moss carpets, she wavered like candlelight, gaze flickering between myself and the door left open by Talon. I kept my gaze on the goddess’ old table, scarred finger gently but stubbornly tracing the knots and whorls in the wood. When I looked again, she was gone.
I was successful.
They weren’t really gone. Not yet, at least. They would only be outside, talking with each other for right now. But there was no way Talon would be staying, no matter how hard Nania tried to convince him. So this was a complete and resounding success, exactly what I hoped to do.
Why did my chest hur
I stood, so abruptly that it rattled the moss-padded stool against the wall. As the glowing moss carpet cushioned my footfalls, I went off to find our host. Hallow Zaya had hidden herself away in a cluttered, dark room. The encroaching shelves were crammed with flowers, the maze of tables groaning under the weight of boxes and strange pieces of equipment. The dull light cast her dark brown skin and light green hair in shades of the wine-dark sea. A few seconds passed as she fiddled with one potted plant, and at first it was hard to tell if she had noticed me or not. Then she suddenly asked, in her low voice, “Was there something you wanted? I’m not going to treat your arm.”
Talon and Hallow Zaya were very alike. Perhaps more-so than they cared to admit. Both were awful liars. Both chose to compensate for that in the same way—by avoiding human civilization. A skill with lies was essential for living in close proximity with others. Every person, no matter how placid and kind, had sharp edges that might cut the unwary. To a certain extent, lies were armor and blunted weapons both, making cooperation possible. Everyone who lived in close proximity to someone else had to be a good liar to live a comfortable life.
Only two types of people could afford to live completely honestly. Those who avoided other humans, like Talon and Zaya. And those like the Sun Fiend.
Maybe such a life like that was just a little enviable.
At her question, I opened my mouth, then closed it, and looked down at my right arm, its skin still red and scarred. I hadn’t wanted to ask her to look after my arm, but… “Er, why not, may I ask?”
“Because I don’t like seeing my work disrespected. And I can tell you won’t take any advice I offer—I already gave your friend a whole speech about painkillers. Just ask him about it.”
Did she mean Talon? I hadn’t asked for painkillers, so I failed to see the connection. Maybe now was a bad time, considering her grouchiness. “My apologies again, o Noble Hallo—”
“If I wanted to hear those sorts of titles, I wouldn’t be a hermit,” Hallow Zaya interrupted me. “Just ask your question. I can’t accept or refuse if you can’t even get to the question.”
“The drought this Sun Season,” I finally said, “it’s worse than usual. I’m worried it could lead to a famine. I’d like to ask, in your wisdom, if there are any edible plants you may know of that are especially hardy, or thrive in hot, dry, conditions, or…”
“How do you speak to her?” Hallow Zaya suddenly asked.
I blinked. “Er…how I speak with your mother, Crown Naruune? Very respectfully—”
“No. Crown Ruuthelaine.”
“I, er. I don’t. Usually.” It was a lie, but not much of one. Most of our conversations were very one-sided, and only when I was alone and frustrated.
“She doesn’t care for titles either. She’s very…to the point. Being the Sun Fiend suits her, because everyone else gets to the point with her, too. Even if the point is ‘I hate you, you monster,’ ” she said, then gave a half-hearted shrug. “I suppose we’re not that different, in that way. I hate etiquette. It feels like someone’s trying to trick me. I’d rather people just…tell me what they want. I hate her, but maybe I’d prefer to know people hated me. Rather than just. You know. Wonder.”
“...Um.”
“Anyways. If you want my advice for dealing with a drought caused by her…leave. Or figure out whoever’s caught her attention, and throw them out. It’s her presence causing it.”
I laughed, dryly, almost without meaning to. Somewhere in my body, it felt like worms were gnawing through my guts before they were meant to. “You sound as though you’ve met her before.”
“I try not to,” said Hallow Zaya. “But since it’s almost certainly you she’s interested in—”
“Who says it’s me?” I suddenly asked.
She paused, and made eye contact with me for the first time. Her glowing golden pupils surrounded by bright green irises pierced through me, as she made an expression that seemed to ask, ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’ Or perhaps it was asking instead, ‘Are you stupid?’
“Right,” I mumbled.
She didn’t dwell on the subject long, nor did she lecture me about how selfish I was being. “Potatoes. Potatoes and other tubers are extremely hardy and versatile plants. The issue is, potatoes are not immune to fire, so I’d suggest something else—if you have anywhere more sheltered to grow plants, someplace cool and dark, you could find a surplus food source in beans and fungi.”
“I…don’t know what a potato is. Or beans. Are they some special food of the gods?” I asked. “I do have someplace cool, dark, and protected where I could grow them, though.” I hesitated, then cautiously asked, “What’s a fun-gai?”
“Mushrooms. It’s mushrooms. As for beans and potatoes, they’re not divine, simply some samples I picked up from other lands while on my travels,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “With my powers I can help them get started. Just do not expect me to be of any help fighting or outwitting the Sun Fiend. She is a dragon. I collect flowers.”
“This is more than enough,” I said, then cut myself off before I started thanking her. Our conversation ended, awkwardly, but I lingered in the door to her room, watching her as she vigorously stripped a flower of dead and dying leaves. Despite the brusqueness of her movements, there was also a calculated gentleness. The flowers were dainty with white, bell-shaped blossoms. Tiny things, looking as if the softest breeze could destroy them, but the Spring-Goddess left them completely unharmed. Behind her was a table crammed with boxes full of tiny see-through pots, or perhaps lidded cups, each containing a little sapling, seed, or liquid mixture. Squinting down at them, I saw labels on each, with letters that shifted and squirmed like little worms. I leaned closer to examine the crate. She suddenly asked something, causing me to bump my head: “What is it?”
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I quickly stood, rubbing the back of my skull. “When can the—the beans and fun-gai arrive?” I asked.
“We settled that. There was something else you wanted. Say it or leave.”
I frowned, brow furrowing slightly. What could she be talking about? We’ve settled everything I came here for.
“That really was all. I’m sorry for taking up your time,” I said, turning to leave, but something stuck my feet to the ground. I shifted the balls of my feet slightly, but the soft moss easily parted. “It’s just…”
Her movements around the flower stilled, waiting.
“...What do you know about fate?”
She turned me, now it was her turn to frown. “Fate? As in?”
“The temple used to do auguries, at the turn of the new year.” Suddenly I felt like an insect under her glare, being scrutinized by a great bird moments away from swallowing me. “Oracles. Foretelling what awaits in the new year. The…seeing the future.”
Hallow Zaya left the little flower alone, shuffling over to a stool at the crowded work-table. “The future. A controversial topic.”
Arrow. Pyre. Mobbing. Starvation. Stabbing.
“Controversial? You mean, how some people try to defy the will of the Crowns?”
“No. That people think it’s possible to foresee anything at all.”
“Ah…o-of course,” I said, realizing my mouth had gone dry. “To think a mere mortal could possibly understand the will of the Crowns…it’s hubris, right?”
“I once came across a monastery north of the Heishan mountains,” Hallow Zaya said. Her gold-and-viridian eyes seemed to glaze over, lost in memories. “I was interested in them for their knowledge of anesthetics, but they also burned certain herbs which they believed expanded their consciousnesses, and granted them visions of the future, among other things.”
“It didn’t work, did it?”
“Of course not. So far as I know, it’s impossible to interpret the future.”
“So they never saw the future?”
“I didn’t say that.” Hallow Zaya licked her lips.
Arrow. Pyre. Mobbing. Starvation. Stabbing.
“Prophecies don’t actually exist. To my knowledge, most of them are scams,” she said.
“I thought Crowns sometimes sent dreams of the future?”
She hummed, slightly. “Crowns do communicate through dreams, sometimes. Perhaps a Crown could see the future. But I doubt it. It would have to be specifically a god of…history, or memory, perhaps.”
“Why history? Wouldn’t it make more sense for it to be a god of time, or the future? Or even dreams?” I asked.
“Because there is no ‘will of the Crowns.’ The Crowns are powerful but not omnipotent. Wise, but not omniscient. Everywhere, but not…well. You understand,” said Zaya. “To see the future, I imagine they’d have to ask ‘that’.”
I had heard, far to the north, things became so cold that water stopped and became solid ‘ice’. I had never seen such a phenomenon, but I thought I understood what ‘cold’ meant now, as I rubbed my knuckles. I waited for the conversation to continue, but Zaya said nothing more. Finally, I asked, “What is ‘that’?”
“Tea?”
“What?”
“Certain Heishanese kingdoms will export leaves of a particular plant which when boiled in water—”
“I know what tea is!” I stammered.
Hallow Zaya shrugged. “I want tea. You?”
“What—I don’t know!?”
“I’m making some. Have it or don’t.”
And there, the conversation seemed to be paused again as Zaya left the room to boil water for tea. Despite not really wanting any, I did go to find cups for her, which she seemed to appreciate.
“The Primeval Reservoir is a kettle,” she announced out of nowhere. “It’s a kettle full of life force. Our bodies are cups, and…I guess souls are the tea in them? But tea doesn’t just appear in the cups, it comes from the kettle. And…returns to the kettle instead of being drunk. This is a bad metaphor.” She frowned, watching the water boil.
I cleared my throat. “Erm—and the Primeval Reservoir is Crown Naruune’s house? They say all lives come from her and return to her, and that Greshan kings serve her forever in her home.”
“Wrong. The Primeval Reservoir is more like…Crown Naruune’s mother. That’s a very bad metaphor, too.” She tipped the kettle, pouring hot water into the cup. “Crown Naruune is only one of the Reservoir’s many, many ‘children’. Mother says that every light in the sky is likely another Crown. The stars, and some are planets, too.”
I waited as she finished filling the cup. “Er…my cup?”
“You said you didn’t want tea,” Hallow Zaya sighed, before filling mine. “Anyways. Memories dissolve in the Primeval Reservoir. All memories. Then deceased souls are sent out to be reborn again.” She chugged her mug of tea, slamming it back down on the table. I sipped mine with more reservations. It was warm, comforting.
“And…this is related to foretelling the future.”
“Yes,” said Hallow Zaya, tilting her head to one side. “You should be able to put it together by now.” She began pouring herself another cup.
Should I? She was leaving me to sort through an awful lot of information. “The…the Primeval Reservoir is the source of all life. If…everything comes from and returns to the Reservoir…then the Reservoir is the one that writes our fates? It…determines our paths before we’re born?”
“Wrong.” The goddess reached over to lightly bonk me on the head. “Though you’re not the only person who came to that conclusion. Some peoples think something akin to that.”
I scratched my cheek, falling back into deep thought again.
“Is it…the memories, then? The past determines the future, in a big loop?”
She shook her head, and took mercy on me. “Everything that will ever happen is the result of something that came before. Trees don’t just grow wherever, they grow where seeds were planted. And if the seed was planted somewhere bad, it dies,” Zaya said. “You were close. If someone could witness all the memories in the Primeval Reservoir, perhaps they’d be able to predict the future. But only a Crown would be able to see and draw anything meaningful from all those memories, without going insane, because there’s so much and most of it is just noise.”
Now the goddess frowned. “Then again, even Mother doesn’t think it would be completely accurate. Something about…’if a tree falls in a forest’...but I thought it sounded quite silly. Not everything has a soul large enough to perform magic, but everything alive has a soul. Trees have souls. Therefore, the memories of trees will also be found in the Reservoir. So through Reservoir, we could tell if it made a sound.”
“...I see,” I muttered. All this information had set my head spinning. Was any of it even accurate, if she called most of it a ‘bad metaphor’?
Hallow Zaya toyed with my empty cup as I set it back down, peering at the clumps of leaves left inside. “You know, some people think it’s possible to read the future in tea leaves.”
“But you just said most prophecies are scams.”
“Yes. That doesn’t mean it’s not interesting to think about. Why do certain patterns appear, what collision of events make tea leaves resemble this or that. The way the brain picks patterns out of anything. It’s…fun.”
“So what’s in my future?” I asked as she squinted into my cup.
“I don’t know. When I asked how tea leaf reading worked, it was all just a lot of, ‘maybe this symbol means one thing, but it could mean any of these other things instead.’ ” She hesitated. “Thank you.”
I tilted my head. “For…?”
“Most mortals who want to speak with me. They always want the same things. Immortality. Aphrodisiacs. Miracle medicine…a lot of things I can’t give.” She didn’t smile, but her gaze now did seem a little softer. Her slightly pointed ears were relaxed instead of pricked up. “Most don’t want to just…talk. It was an interesting conversation.”
I flashed a grin I didn’t feel. “Of course.” Then I stood again, drifting towards the door. The suns had set, and the spiral moon had risen far overhead. Insects screamed a mighty racket, and I spotted some white-winged moths and flies hovering near Zaya’s window.
Talon and Nania still hadn’t come inside. Seemed we would need to stay in Hallow Zaya’s abode overnight.
Hallow Zaya had said foretelling the future should be impossible—but she’d also said that if anyone could do it, a Crown would be able to do so. And she had confirmed the Sun Fiend truly was ‘Crown Ruuthelaine’. So, it still wasn’t so farfetched that a Crown could predict my death and legacy. And then send me dozens of dreams about it. Perhaps that was why it was a different death each dream—all the ‘noise’.
“For someone so entangled with Ruuthelaine, I thought you would be nothing but trouble,” Zaya said.
My heart skipped a beat, hearing the name, but I shoved the emotions down. Instead, my traitorous mind wondered if Hallow Zaya had ever been with anyone. She was quite old, and didn’t seem to care for people in that way. Perhaps like me. But it also seemed she knew how to make aphrodisiacs, so...
“What other friends have you had?” I asked, returning to the table. “Besides us three, I mean.”
“Bold of you to assume we are friends,” Zaya retorted. “But perhaps I’ll tell Hwyll and Noch we are. To keep them from bothering me about how I must ‘get out’ more. It will be good to get them off my back.”
“What about friends who aren’t trees?”
Her eye twitched slightly. “They say things like that, too.” She leaned backwards, against the wall. “...There was someone I traveled with. A very long time ago. We were…very intimate. She was perhaps the most honest person I knew. Unniyarcha, that was her name.” She frowned. “You remind me of her. A little.”
That caused my brows to furrow, even as a fake smile stuck to my face. “Sorry. I don’t see the resemblance.” Wasn’t that why Talon and Nania were the ones outside, and I was the one still sat in here? The one trying to push them away from myself and towards each other. For their happiness. “I think you just don’t meet many humans.”
She hesitated, as though considering her words carefully before she spoke.
“She lived in a time and place where women lived very difficult lives. Especially women who also wished to be warriors and travelers. She would have had an easier time living as she did as a man, instead of what she knew she was.”
She paused, then the ghost of a long-gone smile appeared on her face. “Still, she went to great lengths to live as she knew she was. She…inspired me, in some ways, to learn more about what certain plants and medicines could do. So she could live as ‘like herself’ as she could. Of course, the ones I used for her won’t be very useful to you—but I never stopped researching that subject. I know what would work better for you.”
“I-I…”
“I think people like you are very admirable,” Zaya said, softly. “I can’t be bothered with others. As much as I enjoy learning, and helping, everything else is exhausting. Annoying, cruel, pitiful. But you put up with all of that, without running or caving to their desires. I don’t understand how.”
That dry feeling in my throat was back. Carelessly, I sat back down in my seat, not trusting my legs to carry me any longer, though I wanted nothing more than to hurl myself towards the door. I was a liar. I lied about the Sun Fiend, I lied about the right I had to play king, I lied about everything, for so much and for so long. What did Zaya know, that she could call me honest?
“You’re mistaken. We’re not at all alike,” I said. I flinched as I heard something howling and hooting in the woods.
“Stay the night. My patient being eaten by a roaming beast would be embarrassing,” Zaya said. “...Your room is still empty.”