Orenda could not get the image of Ali’s strained face out of her mind. It rested behind her eyes as she tried to sleep, and when the sun peeked in through the window, she thought that she may as well stop pretending to sleep and go about her day. When she went to the basin to do her morning routine, she saw the dark circles under her eyes, the red in her scalara, and thought of how much worse he had looked than her.
She had to talk to Bubbider.
She even had a decent excuse, as it had been about a week since her last bath, and so far none of the adults had begrudged her bathing in the laundry room. She imagined that they understood why it would be difficult for her to go back to the bathhouse. As she entered the place the smell hit her, a smell she quite enjoyed of soap and light florals, of the herbs and steaming water. She carried with her a fresh change of clothes and her bathing basket, and was happy to see Bubbider there, not working, as her duties were centered around the kitchen, but simply waiting.
“Happy Solstice,” She said when she saw Orenda, but her heart wasn’t in it, and she looked worried.
“Happy Solstice,” Orenda told her, though it was twelve days away. Orenda saw no reason to conceal her concern and went on, “You’ve spoken to Ali?”
“He isn’t doing well,” Bubbider took a bucket into the garden behind the open-air laundry room and began to pump. Orenda set her change of clothes on a shelf against the wall and followed her.
“No,” she said, “He isn’t.”
“It can’t be helped,” Bubbider said, and picked up the bucket to take back inside to fill a tub for Orenda.
“Let me do that,” Orenda told her, but Bubbider brushed her aside.
“I need to do things, Rendy,” She said, “I need to keep busy.”
Orenda understood that.
“Also,” Bubbider went on as she dumped the bucket into the washtub and went back to refill it, “I have to ask that you stop giving me books. I’ve run out of places to hide them, and as I’m not allowed in the library anymore, I can’t find inconspicuous places to get rid of them.”
“Oh,” Orenda rubbed her hands up her arms, “Alright. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t mean to sound cross,” Bubbider apologized, “It’s just… things are getting more difficult, lately. It feels as if something has changed, but nothing has.”
“Yes,” Orenda agreed.
They were both silent as Bubbider emptied the second bucket.
“When we did prep this morning, for breakfast,” Bubbider said, “We sent two covered trays to the headmaster’s apartments. Is he expecting someone?”
“He wanted me to start taking meals with him,” Orenda told her, suspecting that she already knew. “Ali told me that I shouldn’t. That I shouldn’t be alone with him.”
“Ali is… blinded by his own… issues,” Bubbider said slowly as she refilled the bucket again. “Quiroris knows a lot of important people, Orenda. All the nobility on the colony send their children here. It would… do us well to get on his good side.”
“I agree,” Orenda said, thinking she was hiding something.
“You should be more kind to him,” Bubbider told her, “you could learn a great deal if you get him to trust you.”
“You’re both trying very hard not to say something,” Orenda told her.
Bubbider paused after she had dumped the third bucket and looked at Orenda as if she was studying her, as if she was trying to discover something.
“The headmaster has,” She said slowly, choosing her words with care, “that is, he seems to have… taken a liking to you.”
“He was there,” Orenda told her, “He was a soldier, during the war against the fire elves. He helped wipe fire mages from the planet.”
“Perhaps he feels guilty,” Bubbider said as Orenda began to undress and stepped into the washtub. “I think Ali is wrong. I think you should try to get closer to him. Sometimes we, that is, the Knights, all of us, must… give up a little comfort, for the cause.”
“Right,” Orenda said as the water around her began to simmer. She picked up a bucket, filled it, and dumped it over her head so that she could wash her hair.
“They say,” Bubbider said, looking out onto the garden, “That the White Rabbit himself was once a pleasure slave.”
“I fear I still don’t really know what that is,” Orenda admitted.
“Perhaps that’s for the best,” Bubbider dumped the last bucket into the washtub over Orenda’s head and made her way out of the room, effectively ending the conversation.
It was around noon when Orenda made her way to Quiroris’s office, clutching the book he had been so desperate to get, yet had not stolen. She knocked loudly, and was immediately answered.
“Come in!” he called, and Orenda let herself inside.
It was strange to see him outside of his mage robes, and she realized that she had never seen him dressed casually before, in a normal outfit rather than his sleeping arrangements or formal robes. The button up shirt he wore was rolled up at the sleeves, presumably not to get in his way as he watered the numerous plants that she remembered were everywhere inside the office, so that made practical sense, but his long hair had been pulled into a bun at the top of his head, and without the braid around his forehead she saw that his roots were undeniably grey. He wasn’t wearing boots indoors, and the casualness of it all unnerved her.
“Oh, Orenda,” He seemed happy to see her, and a little startled as his eyes darted to the clock above his desk, “Oh, you must be starving. I’ll ring for lunch.”
“Your hair looks awful,” Orenda said, because she could not stop herself. It was true, but she instantly regretted it. Something about Quiroris just put her on edge, made her aggressive.
“You know, Orenda,” he sighed as he walked into the hall and tugged a string that caused the ringing she often heard, “There’s being right and there’s being nice. Honestly…” He walked back into the room, went to the door that Orenda had never seen opened, and stepped into what seemed to be a little foyer with a mirror on the wall and another shelf full of plants. He studied himself in the mirror and grimaced.
“Just because something is obviously, painfully true,” he said to her, “Does not mean that you should say it.”
“I thought you may not know,” Orenda lied.
“I have an appointment,” he said defensively, “I have to attend a party and I want to be presentable.”
“What party?” Orenda asked as she hovered on the other side of the desk.
“I’m in a position where I can’t refuse invitations,” Quiroris said as if it was an inconvenience, “I have to go to Lady Glenlen’s solstice party at least once during the season. I have clients I need to socialize with. You’ll learn more about it in etiquette classes. Life as an adult is a constant… job.” He smiled at her and asked, “Are you a vampire, afraid to come inside a place? You’ve already been invited.”
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He walked further into his apartments, and Orenda followed him.
She instantly hated it.
The foyer opened into a living area that spoke of opulence. All the furniture was meticulously cared for antiques, and Orenda knew instinctively that he did none of the care himself. Her mind instantly called up images of humans on their hands and knees rolling up his precious rugs to lug down the many flights of stairs to beat and scrub, then lug back up again. She thought of all the heavy wooden furniture that would need to be moved to do so.
She imagined that it had to be done frequently, because the entire place smelled of dirt- not the kind of dirt associated with filth, but the living, earthy smell of dirt that housed the plants that sat on every available surface.
“This is my sitting room,” he said, sliding large, double doors open that folded into the wall, “And this is my dining room.”
It was smaller than Orenda had anticipated, and the table inside took up most of it, with just enough room left for a small serving bar to the right hand side. Windows lined the opposite wall, looking out over the city, and because they were in a tower, Orenda could see the ocean stretching away into nothingness.
“All of your furniture is quite thick wood,” Orenda told him as she took a seat at the foot of the table.
“Yes,” he said proudly, “I had it shipped from the earth continent after I took my position here.”
“It looks so flammable,” She said, because she could not stop saying things like that.
“I imagine it is,” he huffed, “So be very careful. We wouldn’t want another accident.”
“Do you live alone here, Felaern?” Orenda asked, looking out at the vast city and thinking of all the people in it.
“Right now, yes,” He answered, leaning against a window frame and gazing out as well.
“Does someone stay with you?” Orenda asked, “When everyone isn’t on holiday?”
“Oh, not, that’s not what I meant,” he shook his head and turned to look at her, “Time flows differently the longer you live, Orenda. I meant… not for years. A year is a short time when you’ve lived for centuries. I imagine at your age it feels very long.”
“All time is long,” Orenda told him, “A month can be forever and a day.”
“I don’t notice the months flying by,” Quiroris sighed, “I miss that.”
“I imagine you aren’t bored enough, then,” Orenda told him, “Perhaps you should sit in on one of Professor Gilynore’s lectures on the subject of royal genealogy.”
Quiroris laughed, and Orenda thought it held real mirth. She was going to tell him that she didn’t like the sound of it, but the door opened, and two humans came in carrying trays that were completely loaded down. Orenda admired them, particularly the male whose name she couldn’t remember, because he carried one on each arm, a covered tray and a coffee tray, with so much expertise that he made it look effortless.
They waited for Quiroris to sit, and Orenda was surprised when he took the seat to her right instead of, as she had expected, the head of the table. The male human stood behind and to his left, and slid the covered tray in front of Quiroris with what Orenda thought was some sort of gymnastic magic. Jenny did the same for her, and as the male human was setting up the other tray he carried, distributing place settings that Orenda noticed always came in from the left and went away from the right, Orenda spoke.
“Thank you,” She said to them.
“Yes,” Quiroris said, “That will be all, I’ll serve myself.”
They both gave the strange little bow that made Orenda’s blood boil and left the way they had come.
“I had them bring coffee, rather than tea,” Quiroris told her as he poured it, “Which is not typically served with lunch, but I was told you prefer it.”
“I usually just drink water,” Orenda told him, and laid her book flat on her lap.
“Well,” He said, “Normally one would drink wine with food and take coffee or tea with desert, so we’re playing a bit fast and loose with the rules. Which I suppose, in hindsight, I shouldn’t have done, because you’re still trying to learn. It’s so easy to forget how young you are, Orenda… you speak like an adult. And you’re so mature for your age, physically.”
“I think fire elves are just bigger,” Orenda told him, “I daresay I’ll tower over you when I finish growing.”
“You may, at that,” He said as he dropped the sugar into her coffee and began to stir.
“Do you remember?” Orenda asked, cautiously, “Were they, that is, were we, tall?”
“Yes,” He said softly, “I would say that fire elves were probably the most… that is, they were known for their stature.”
“All the doors in this building,” Orenda thought aloud, “Look as if they were made for people taller than the people who use them. The windows are situated high on the walls.”
“You’re very observant,” Quiroris said with a tinge of negativity to his voice that put Orenda on edge.
“Was it already here?” Orenda asked.
“It’s a very old building,” Quiroris explained, “We’ve had to do some renovations, make some changes, but yes, the bones were here when I arrived. This whole place used to be… I think that if one has an eye for architecture, as you seem to have, you can tell the new growth from the old. These apartments, for example, used to be one open area. I had the walls separating the sitting room, dining room, and bedroom installed. There wasn’t a lot of room, so the masons suggested those doors that slide inward.”
Now that she knew what she was looking for, Orenda could see that.
She also knew that she was living in a building that had been created by fire elves. She had more of a right to be here than any of the other students.
“Are you still thinking of piercing your ears?” Quiroris asked her.
“Yes,” Orenda said with no elaboration.
“If you’ll let me get presentable,” He broke his muffin into smaller and smaller chunks, and only stuck them into his mouth when they were bitesized, which annoyed Orenda to no end, “I’ll take you to a professional.”
“I think I would enjoy that,” Orenda said as she took a large bite of her muffin.
“I’ve heard,” he said, cautiously, “That you didn’t go to the solstice dance.”
“No,” Orenda said, “I learned that it was improper for a young lady to go by herself.”
“I find it difficult to believe that no gentleman called on you if they’re giving you gifts,” Quiroris said.
“I find it difficult to believe that you can eat in the same room with all these plants,” Orenda huffed, “Don’t you get bugs? I would think you would get bugs!”
“I like plants,” Quiroris defended, “I like my home to be bursting with life. A good earth mage can speak to plants.”
“Speaking of Earth mages,” Orenda drained the last of her coffee, “I took your advice.”
“I’m skeptical of that claim,” Quiroris said as if he was annoyed with her, sounding much more like the frightening man he sometimes became, but Orenda pressed on.
“I looked up the rest of your military unit,” Orenda told him.
“Oh,” he said, and took a long sip of his coffee.
“Yes, and I found the man you told me to look into,” Orenda said, “Tolimar Sambress.”
“I should have never said that,” Quiroris set his cup down and stared into it.
“What does the abbreviation “MIA” mean?” Orenda asked.
Quiroris stuck another piece of his muffin into his mouth, and Orenda thought that they were having brunch rather than a true lunch. She wondered if he had eaten breakfast. He chewed slowly, and she thought he was hoping she would get bored and change the subject.
“It means that there was not enough left to recover,” He said at length, “technically it means ‘Missing In Action’ but we joked that it meant ‘Maim Incinerate Amputate’. It means that by the time the Emerald Knight was finished with you,” He tapped his fork against his plate, and Orenda watched his eyes glaze over. He seemed to be somewhere else, perhaps in a memory, far away, “There was not enough left to identify the body. There was not enough left to bury. They had nothing to send home to your family. He could… There are no teeth, there are no bones, he would just… it was just a red and pink pulp… just a stain.”
His hands began to shake and Orenda watched him drop his fork, “Maury didn’t even want to… it was his sister, his stupid…” his eyes weren’t closed, but Orenda knew he couldn’t see her as he stared at something in the distance she could not see, “He was… he was strong, he was just… when he attacked us, when he attacked me, I… I really couldn’t breath. I really couldn’t. I wasn’t pretending, none of us were, he hit us with that poison and… we weren’t helping him, but they…”
“His sister?” Orenda asked, and she watched the unsettling, unreal way that Quiroris’s eyes snapped back into place. They stopped shaking and turned, focused on her with real clarity, and he threw a hand over his mouth.
“Orenda I’m… I’m so sorry,” he said, looking as if he had done something awful, “I’m so sorry, it’s just I haven’t… I haven’t really seen a fire mage since… you look so much like them, and…”
“You’re afraid of the Emerald Knight,” Orenda said as if it was a matter of fact.
“Anyone with any sense is afraid of the Emerald Knight,” Quiroris said quietly, “I’m sorry I’ve frightened you, Orenda.”
“I’m not frightened,” Orenda assured him, because she wasn’t. This story meant nothing to her, and she doubted that it was true.
“You finish your lunch,” He told her as he stood, “I’m going to get ready and then we’ll have a nice afternoon in town, alright?”
He gave her no time to respond as he walked back into the sitting room.