From the journals of Jain’Steen.
Red fractals grant the host abilities in relation to physical movement. Commonly known as the Speed family, they are the most readily available colour group. Cherry red fractals are well documented, increasing hand speed and manual dexterity. Bright clear Red fractals assist with gross motor skills. Burgundy, aids agility, and the ability to change direction rapidly while maintaining precision and speed. Ruby, explosive acceleration and increased reaction times. Many clear Red and Burgundy fractals are shot with Blood Red streaks. Hosts then also enjoy greater flexibility. Like all the physical fractals they had dependent on the host receiving adequate nutrition and calorie dense food. As the fractal size grows over time, they expand the physical impact on the hosts body. Responding well to training they facilitate muscle mass growth and streamline efficient use of the fuel the host consumes. If pushed beyond the hosts available fuel reserves physical fractals will convert muscle mass back into fuel.
In Ilias’ experience nothing could compete with being out in a canoe on the water. Fresh air in on your face, current tugging at the ores, controlling your movements while being surrounded by a power stronger than yourself.
Ther were similarities to being a Godmother in Chruciaal. She dipped her authority into the vast current, manipulated the surface, tweaking her position, or another’s, and watched the unfolding effects.
She held no delusions; her power was limited. A minor player, capable of only delicate actions. She was incapable of exploring the rivers depth. Skimming the surface, watching the eddies and judging the current, this she could do. A subtle nudge, dipping and ore to change direction, getting a better angle, she could not change the course of the river, but she could influence outcomes for herself and help make a few other people’s life journey more comfortable. Hope was still possible.
Some people feared rivers. Ilia had never empathized. It was true you had to respect moving water, recognize your own limits, understand the seasons and it’s moods. But rivers were vital. Carrying you where you wanted to go, provided you with sustenance along the way, and rocked you to sleep at night.
It was a pity her current persona and lifestyle had taken her so far from her people, birthplace and rivers. She removed her shawl of fine charcoal lace, throwing it casually over a carved dresser. This private room was decorated in marble outlined mosaics in pastel pinks and greens. Mythical creatures cavorted alongside a river, amidst exotic flowers, while colorful flitters flew about them.
“Well, I'm glad that's over, I won't have to play Hostess again for another nine-days.” Ilia rolled her shoulders to release accumulated tension.
“My lady, this is truth.” Den brought her a mug of cardamom sweetened Caraff.
“These traditions afford stability. You should value them more.” Lady Justine was controlled. Suppressing some sort of emotion, knowing her probably a disapproving one.
Lady Elia puffed out her cheeks. “Of course they do, but it was fun. Watching all the reactions. Now I need your impressions. An overview first, then the details.”
She flung herself into a comfortable lounge gesturing for Den to do the same in the one opposite. Her mother had already claimed her favorite chair. A expected it had a stiff back and firm seat.
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Den glanced at Lady Justein; Ilia noted her mother shake her head. Pity. If she wasn’t going to talk in front of Den, it meant she was planning a tongue lashing for her daughter.
“You instructions were for me to watch Lady Baozhai. Her first reaction was one of analysis, she wanted to notice the responses of others as well. She was particularly interested in Lady Frieeda and Lady Justines words and reactions. I'm sure she then noticed me watching her.”
Ilsa nodded, didn't challenge the statement, at least not vocally. Den would not have drawn attention to themselves. It would have been more likely that Christies had mentally sent her friend a warning after Reading Baozhai’s negative emotions.
“How did you respond?”
“I became intensely occupied with serving drinks my lady. Very calm, very boring.”
“Little does she know,” Ilsa chuckled. There was nothing boring about Den.
“Where did you find him?”
Yes, her mother disapproved.
“First City, slave markets. He was a reasonable price.”
“How has the rest of your household responded?”
Ilia Couldn't say. Other affairs had required her attention since arriving back in the Capital. A couple of days ago when Den had referred to Dig in a conversation it took her a few heartbeats to work out who he was talking about. Household management had always fallen on Den’s capable shoulders. You don't have a boat and swim yourself. She inclined her head, and knowing her well, Den answered.
“A few of the older servants were quietly critical but having a bedwarmer made toasty in a few heartbeats, or a drink or a meal heated to just the right temperature, or the chill taken of a room has morphed resentment to acceptance. Or at least tolerance. Cheff Adz sees his value. Dig is amiable and pleasant and doesn't appear to have any nasty habits. Being the youngest of the new servants, and no doubt because of his race, everyone else feels superior. They are enjoying having someone with a lot of energy to boss around.” Den gave a half smile.
“Ah, I wondered if they were D’char. Serving the chilled drinks was not just and extension of your theatrics?” Justine raised an eyebrow.
“No theatrics, and you need to learn how to take a joke.” Ilia replied.
“Then you need to learn how to make one. Joking at the expense of someone unable to defend themselves is beneath a Lady.”
Ouch. Her mother never pulled her punches.
“I saved him. What sort of life do you think he would have had in any other household?” Ilia defended herself.
Justine didn't immediately reply and of course her countenance and expressions were neutral, giving no indications of her feelings.
“I have spent the last few days trying to discreetly find the limits of his skill.” Den came to the rescue. “He can make a serving tray full of water into ice and repeat the process again a few heartbeats later. It takes him longer to turn the ice back into water, and longer again to heat it. We usually make Caraff with boiling water, he can get water very hot, but not too boiling point. He's quite willing to practice his skill and assures us that he will be able to make Caraff soon. When pressed about how soon, he couldn't give a definitive answer, and became embarrassed. I thought it best to drop the topic for now and just give him plenty of opportunity to practice the skill.”
“Can he make fire?” Justein asked.
Ilia felt herself smile at the sight of her mother's momentary uncertainty.
“No, I did ask before I made the purchase. Dig clams to be too young. I was a little disappointed, but he will only get older.”
“You do realize there is a reason the Coalition hates Diggers?”
“I understand why there are many reasons why the Coalition takes a dislike to certain peoples. Most of them have to do with the fact they are bigoted, murderous, sadists.”
“You know this, and you have chosen to bring this defenseless child into their midst. Are you going to dress him with a little ribbon bow and give his life to them as a present?”
God's light, she was angry. Her mother was furious with her. Beneath the perfectly sculpted calm Chinquaar features and flawlessly Blocked mind, Justien was fuming. She’d never used sarcasm otherwise.
“I will keep him safe.” Ilia lifted her chin, her own equanimity shaken.
“How? You have no concept of the fire he will stroke. You do not even know who you are pitting yourself against. I am glad no one knows you are my daughter and all the work and sacrifices I have made will not be cast aside with you in this folly.”
Elia felt a little of her confidence dissipate. Flowing rapidly away down the stream taking some of her certainty and resolve with it.
Stormblast. About such things her mother was usually correct.