But on our march, we saw her face
So calm and ever serene.
She sang her song so full of sorrow
That even we did weep
-Korek Song of the Covenant
Celeste spent the better part of two weeks laying in her bed, ruminating on her mistakes. There had certainly been plenty of mistakes for her to lay with, as if each mistake was a feather that fell from her rough linen pillows. Almost two weeks it had been, laying in her lumpy mattress and staring off at the red curtains that lined her window. If she could have worked up the strength, could pick herself up out of her bed, she would have gone to that window. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. Two weeks, and only now was she beginning to get past the exhaustion that had set in after that day at Rekiak’s former home. Two weeks, living with the pain of Valleresa’s words ringing through her head. Two. Weeks.
Her sister’s words had been true. That was the worst part, a careless streak so nearly bringing them to tragedy; the fault laying with her alone. So, with the Mother waxing above those nights, Celeste prayed. The Most Merciful’s illumination a gentle comfort, reminding her that she was never alone.
Not that she ever really was alone, not with her ever present rotating watch. Even Arabella had returned to do her part, if at first in the arms of Rekiak. The sweet man had carried her all the way from the temple so Celeste could heal her broken spine.
Now that had been exhausting, with how long it had been since the attack. Celeste had found that the longer after an injury occurred, the harder it was to heal it properly. It took a lot of effort to undo the mistakes the body so often made in its attempt to heal itself. If the body had fully healed, there would have been nothing Celeste could have done. Thankfully it seemed they had gotten to Arabella just in time. Even if it had left Celeste unable to walk for several more days. It had extended her bed rest to a fortnight, but Celeste found that cost worthy, even if she had slept for two days straight after.
When she had finally awoken though it had been to the scent of Arabella’s cooking. A delicious vegetable stew, full of carrots and onions and beets, just the way Celeste liked it. She had even made sure to have extra beets in Celeste’s bowl, a treat she appreciated even as Valleresa moaned and complained that she didn’t deserve the coddling.
It was on the ninth day of living in her well-worn room when Vallerian had returned in the middle of the night covered in blood, a deep wound in his shoulder. He had lied to her that night, saying that he had tripped and fallen into a stake in the ground. In turn, she had lied back, pretending to believe him as she healed the wound. From the weeks now since leaving the temple, she had grown to know what a knife wound looked like, and Vallerian claiming it to be something else wasn’t going to trick her.
But she also knew she couldn’t change the man, she just prayed that he had shown mercy to the soul who had hurt him. He must have, she assured herself. If he had shown mercy when they were being attacked by the cult, he would surely have shown the same forgiveness to what must have been an attempted robbery. He had to have, and she had to keep reaffirming that in her mind.
Thankfully though, as much as she loved doing it, Celeste’s time had not all just been spent on praying and healing. Two weeks of only that would be too much repetition, even for her. No, thank Ethinia above, the Ga’Na had come by nearly every day since she had awoken to help teach her Korek’Ta, as agreed.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“I heed the song of the covenant.” The Ga’Na said in Korek’Ta.
“And I await to hear it.” Celeste responded, the Ga’Na’s smile widening as she did so.
“Good, very good Mora Ga’Na.” The Ga’Na said, calling her the nickname that some of the Korek had been calling her. Mora Ga’Na, the Young Mercy. A sign of great respect the Ga’Na had explained, a smile on her face.
The first time she had heard it, Celeste had been shocked. A Ga’Na could only be named if they had progeny of at least two generations, grandmothers. And Celeste, well Celeste had none. Yet despite her objections, the Ga’Na had insisted. To remind her that, in bringing Rekiak back to her, his child would be of the band once again as well. Despite Celeste’s youth, that infant would be as a grandchild to her when it was born. Celeste had beamed the whole day they had explained that to her.
“But you muddy your ‘R’ sound too much, and do not punch the ‘G’ enough. Still sound like a Sherya.” The Ga’Na explained with a shake of her head.
Celeste puckered her lips in frustration. She had really thought she was getting it.
“Do not fret Young Mercy.” The Ga’Na spoke, motioning for Celeste to pour some of the tea they drank. “You learn fast, far faster than any Korek I know has learned Terminian.”
Celeste smiled at the compliment and poured the tea for the Ga’Na. “I thank you, Mercy, but I can always hope to be better. That is the Mother’s way after all, the way of growth.”
“That is wise.” The Ga’Na responded, grabbing the tea and giving it a sip. Celeste felt a swelling of pride at the woman’s praise. From the moment they first met, Celeste had known that the Ga’Na was a wise, intelligent woman. But to the extent that Celeste had seen these past days? Learning Korek’Ta was like a whole new world opening up before her, a tongue more honest, more true to the soul of a person than Terminian could ever be.
Every verb was not just an action and nouns were not simply names. Each word carried the emotion the speaker had with it as well as its direct meaning. There was no word for just walking in Korek’Ta, but there was one for an angry trudge, or a joyful stride, or even an excited run of a new father. No wonder the Korek had a hard time learning and communicating in Terminian, they always felt confused as to the emotions of the speaker. The Ga’Na had even once asked why Terminian’s always bared their teeth when giving good news. Explaining a smile was something Celeste never thought she would have to do.
“You show wisdom in your every step, and I feel proud to walk in them.” Celeste responded. Save, the word she used for proud didn’t just mean proud, it meant the pride a student feels in their master’s attention, or a child in their father’s work. A pride in continuity of skill, not just the simple pride in oneself that Terminian got across. In fact, that sort of pride was an insult in Korek’Ta, Celeste had learned.
“And I learn from your youth with every word.” The Ga’Na responded. Youth, meaning exuberance and life. Like a sprout that will grow into a strong tree. And learn, not the direct passing of knowledge, but the growth of one’s own knowledge in understanding of one another. “But I fear I must bring this day to a close. My dear Rekiak and his bride-to-be have much to prepare still, and she may be a sweet girl, but she is only a Fershya.” She grinned at that, rising, then looked back at Celeste still in her bed. “Thank you again, Young Mercy, for returning me my grandson and growing my family. It seems your wisdom was well founded; we are stronger together.”
They bade each other farewell, and the Ga’Na left quickly after that, leaving Celeste alone once more. She sighed and pushed herself up to look out the window. After she had realized how long she would be spending in bed, Celeste had asked Gardinal to move her bed to the window so that she might watch the people going by. Gardinal had complained of course, but Celeste had eventually gotten her way.