Chapter 15 – Points of View

Rootshadow was alive with sound, color, and movement. The Big Mix was in full swing, a chaotic mingling of Shy from all branches of their kind converging to celebrate their shared history and differences. For three days, guests from distant and diverse Sunshy tribes, Middleshy settlements and Deepshy cities mixed with the locals, their distinct clothing and accents adding flair to the festivities.

Music echoed through the corridors, each level of the settlement hosting its own flavor of merriment. The airy tones of Sunshy flutes wove through the higher terrace levels. From the lower chambers, the mellifluous harspichords of the Deepshy harmonized with the hum of their Arclith devices. Their vibrations seemed to amplify the haunting melodies into the very wood of the walls. In every available performance space, Middleshy troupes would stage choral concerts and dramatic plays—or host competitions of skill and wit.

Menna found herself momentarily swept up in the festivities as she walked through the main passage. Sunshy performers, clad in their bright reversible garments, danced with athletic grace, leaping and flipping in displays of agility that drew gasps from the crowd. Deepshy artisans demonstrated intricate craftwork—delicate sculptures and shimmering jewelry forged from Arclith and rare metals. Sunshy and Middleshy children darted between stalls, laughing as they shared toys and snacks, their tentative greetings quickly turning into animated conversations.

“It never gets old. Does it?” Ellana said, appearing at Menna’s side with two steaming cups of spiced tea.

Menna accepted a cup and took a small sip, the warmth soothing her jittery stomach. “It’s... a lot,” she admitted, her eyes scanning the busy crowd. Sunshy traders bartered noisily with Middleshy merchants, her father and brother included, their exchanges punctuated by good-natured banter.

Representatives from the Deepshy academies of Shadowdelve and Fathomvein were the most notable arrivals, their intricate Arclith pendants of etched crystal and pulled silver catching the light wherever they moved. The poised scholars lectured haughtily to Middleshy students and even a few Sunshy observers, who were all nodding eagerly at every word. The three different Shykind rarely came together like this, and Menna couldn’t deny the sheer magnitude of it all.

But something was missing—or rather, someone.

Ellana seemed to read her thoughts. “I wonder when that Sunshy boy will show up,” she said gently. “Probably at the last minute with some ridiculous stunt or trophy.”

Menna’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“He’s missing a Mix for the ages. Quite the turnout this year,” Kerren boomed as he and Murdo wove through the market stalls. “Even for Rootshadow.”

Murdo nodded, taking in the various wares and artifacts on display. “The other Middleshy settlements sent larger delegations than usual. Probably angling to secure trade agreements while everyone’s stuck with us here.”

Kerren chuckled. “Of course they would. And the Deepshy? They’re mostly just here to remind us that they’re better than all of us combined.”

The two paused as they came upon the gathering of academics. Kerren gave a respectful nod, but Murdo’s expression was harder to read.

As his mother and sister drifted beyond earshot Murdo turned to his father. “Do you think Menna has a chance?”

Kerren pursed his lips. “Against a Deepshy of her age and education, or even a Middler who’s spent all his time in a settlement, nose in a book, without having to work and help the family’s trading business? Not if the game’s rigged. But knowing Menna, she’ll find a way to make them sweat before they dismiss her.”

“I just hope she doesn’t get distracted,” Murdo added thoughtfully. “And that this is what she really wants for herself.”

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On the upper root terraces, a contingent of Sunshy had gathered, some to enjoy the view, others to be closer to the surface as to feel less suffocated by being under a settlement’s roof, and a few simply to avoid butting heads with the more stuck-up Deephy.

Having extricated herself from her mother, who was distracted by catching up with a few Deepshy friends from before her “married-to-a-Middler” life, Menna joined Saera and Torran on one of the quieter terraces overlooking the main square. Sylven’s siblings had gathered there to discuss his continued absence and their contingency plans.

As the last Shy to have spoken to Sylven before he left for the rite, Sennith was also present. The newly minted Sunbrave stood at the edge of the platform with one eye on the crowd, and another on the corridor leading up to the surface, in case the young Shy suddenly showed up.

“He’s cutting it too close,” Torran frowned. “Even for him.”

Saera nodded, her usual confidence shaken. “The rite is supposed to be daring, but not a suicide mission. If he’s not back by tomorrow night, we’ll have to send out word to the Sunbrave scouts.”

Menna hesitated, worry creeping into her voice. “What if something happened to him? Something that would stop him from even trying to get back? He made an oath to show up at the Mix. Even if it was just to heckle me...”

Torran’s jaw tightened. “We can’t assume the worst yet. But you’re right—we need to be prepared. I’ll ready the message for the scouts tonight.”

Saera placed a reassuring hand on Menna’s shoulder. “He’s resourceful, Menna. If anyone can get through whatever he’s facing, it’s Sylven.”

Torran crossed his arms. “He’s never been this late before though. Even if he’s planning something dramatic, it’s not like him to miss the second day of the Mix entirely. He’s always looked forward to it, ever since the first one he brought him to—he’d tag along just to pester the elders and the Mid-… and the other Shy.”

“You’re certain he was serious about this oath? He wasn’t just teasing?” Sennith offered half-jokingly. “Maybe he’s too proud to show up without something truly extraordinary,”

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Menna didn’t laugh. “Or maybe something went wrong.”

The group fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them like a shadow.

“Then we’ll find him,” Sennith spoke up. “One way or another.”

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The next morning, the last day of the Crossing, was when Menna was scheduled for her audience at the Concord Pavilion with the Deepshy leadership. Casting aside all other concerns unrelated to her research, she felt the weight of the moment pressing down on her. Ellana accompanied her, offering quiet encouragement as they passed through the vaulted corridors.

The respectful silence of the audience chamber was a stark contrast to the lively chaos outside. The Pavilion was as imposing as Menna remembered. Standing at the heart of Rootshadow, it embodied the unity it was meant to celebrate. Above her, the Sunshy-carved dome arced high, each wooden panel depicting scenes of outdoor landscapes—hills, streams, grasslands—all converging toward the center where two figures stood: Sunbrave Chief Kael and High Councilor Lirien, hand in hand.

The carvings were bold and dynamic, capturing the vitality and daring of the Sunshy. Kael’s spear was embellished with braided vines and feathers, symbolizing the resourcefulness and courage of his people. Lirien’s staff, inscribed with spiraling runes, spoke to the skill and wisdom of the Deepshy.

Beneath Menna’s feet, the mosaic floor took the same story and rendered it with the precision of Deepshy craftsmanship. Smooth stone tiles formed a tableau of Kael and Lirien’s union, framed by patterns that symbolized arcane and deep knowledge. Kael’s pose was angular and resolute, while Lirien’s flowing robes balanced the composition, their contrasting forms made harmonious.

Even here, the differences between the branches were clear. The Sunshy carvings above celebrated the journey and trials that led to their coming together while the Deepshy mosaics underfoot focused on the results: unity and stability.

For the Middleshy, the Pavilion stood as proof of their vital role as hosts and mediators, marking the site where Kael and Lirien had wed generations ago, forging the bond that ensured the survival of Shykind through their darkest hour. The annual Concord Crossing, the largest Mix of the year, commemorated that union. At the end of the festivities, the AllShy Council would meet here to deliberate on matters affecting all Shy.

Menna’s gaze lingered on the mosaics, her thoughts swirlin as she waited in the antechamber with Ellana, clutching her report tightly. She had spent months preparing for this moment, yet her palms were clammy, and her heart pounded like a drum.

Ellana hugged her daughter while whispering. “Despite what I sometimes say, my dear, you must know that the Deepshy aren’t truly any better than the rest of us,” she sighed. “They just don’t like to acknowledge where they fall short. But please... don’t push them too hard. They tend to only hear what they want to.”

Menna nodded, her grip tightening on the leather binding of her notes.

When they were finally called in, Menna straightened the lines of her gown and held her head high, trying to walk elegantly despite her nerves and lack of experience wearing heeled clogs. “Thank you for granting me this audience,” she began, her voice steady. “My name is Menna Thistlebranch, of Rootshadow.”

Kaeloris regarded her with the same detached curiosity he might reserve for a mildly interesting artifact. Lyara lounged with calculated grace, her expression faintly amused.

But it was their High Councilor, Master Lethar who commanded the room. His presence was both reassuring and intimidating—like standing before a mountain that might either shelter or crush you. His weathered face was unreadable as he gestured for Menna to step closer.

Menna bowed slightly as she approached, placing her report on the table with care.

“I present my findings on Arclith charge behavior,” she began, her voice steady. “This work is not an attempt to overturn existing knowledge but to build on it—to connect threads that may have been overlooked.”

Kaeloris’s lips twitched, and Lyara exchanged a glance with him. “The Deepshy archives contain all the research on Arclith ever recorded, going back generations. How could our best scholars have overlooked anything?” Kaeloris asked coolly.

Menna didn’t flinch. “I admit that my research is built only on basic knowledge gleaned from the textbooks you so generously share. But I’ve made an effort to seek out the few fragments of knowledge and artifacts that have trickled up from the Deepshy to the Middleshy over the years. And my findings have been heavily supplemented by my own novel observations and calculations,” she explained.

“Those of us who don’t have access to the Deepshy archives are forced to figure out our own computations, and from there determine our own analyses. By looking at things ourselves, from a different angle, at a different level, maybe it’s possible that we can reveal something new.”

From her notes, she showed off diagrams of Arclith charge flows and annotated observations.

“Interesting,” Kaeloris said flatly.

“What I’ve observed is that even crystals thought to be depleted still show signs of charge redistribution over time. It’s faint, but measurable,” Menna continued

“This is known,” Kaeloris’s brow furrowed slightly. “However, the crystals are still considered functionally depleted because the retained charge flows are much too weak to serve any further significant magical use. What’s new about your conclusion?”

Menna hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “I believe there is a natural process at work—one that retains the patterns of the charge flow, even in the absence of a significant charge. It’s possible that this process could be... influenced.”

Lyara shifted in her seat, visibly bristling at the implication. “The Deepshy would know best about such processes,” she interjected.

Before Menna could respond, Master Lethar raised a hand, his gaze piercing. “You’ve done well to connect these threads, Menna. Your perspective is valuable, even if incomplete.”

Menna blinked, caught off guard by the faint praise.

Lethar gestured to the slide rule she had brought as part of her presentation. “These… fragments and relics you mentioned that you used to aid your calculations—what can you tell us about their origins?”

Menna hesitated. “Well, as you may be aware there is a minor, but beneficial, trade in Deepshy manuscripts even outside your cities. And the few Deepshy who migrate to the Middle may come up with a few treasured heirlooms they’ve been allowed to keep,” she clarified as she glanced back at her mother by the entrance hall.

“As for this tool,” she held up the slide rule for a moment then purposefully tucked it back out of sight in her satchel. “It’s a piece I acquired from Bowerbird Avenue in Mossgrove. Its design and utility suggest Deepshy craftsmanship, though I’ve yet to determine its specific provenance.”

“Such inventive efforts to bridge the gaps in your training…” Lethar remarked, betraying no hint of his thoughts. He leaned back in his chair, his tone softening. “I see potential in your work—and in you. I would like to invite you to join my team. Your ideas are unconventional, especially among the Deepshy, but that is precisely why they are valuable. Sometimes, fresh eyes, looking at ideas in a different light, can see what others cannot.”

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

Kaeloris raised an eyebrow, and Lyara’s smirk vanished. Ellana gasped, her eyes wide upon realizing what just happened.

Menna bowed her head, her voice steady despite her racing heart. “I would be honored, Master Lethar.”

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As Menna and Ellana left the pavilion, Ellana practically vibrated with excitement. “Do you realize what this means? Lethar—Master Lethar himself—picked you! You’re going to study and work alongside those other Deepshy as an equal!”

Menna smiled faintly, her thoughts swirling. “It’s much more than I expected. I never dreamed...”

Ellana beamed. “I did. I knew you’d show them all! The Thistlebranches aren’t just Middler traders!”

Menna’s smile faltered as her mind drifted to Sylven. He should have been there to see it, to hear about it, to mock her in his infuriating way. Instead, there was a nagging void where his presence should have been.

“I’m not sure what I need to do next,” she said softly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the Concord celebrations.

Ellana placed a hand on her shoulder. “You will be,” she said firmly. “But tonight, have fun at the Mix. You’ve earned this moment.”

Menna nodded, but fun was far from her priority that night. She hoped that somewhere out there, Sylven had overcome his own trials.