Chapter 16. The Lunacy of Lemony

riel watched the jagged edges of buildings meld into the gray swath of cloud-wreathed shore.  It was nearly dark as the short winter day drew to a close.  Few had come to see them off for Zhou had not wanted a fuss to be made.  Wisely he stayed within the safety of his compound while a small entourage of warriors had guided them to the docks.

Morisedd came to her side, easing his arm around her shoulder and then smoothing his hand slowly down to her hip so that he could draw her warmly against him.  She smiled to herself over the sleep the two of them had lost while lying together in the lush feather bed at Crystal Palm.  Morisedd had conceded his enjoyment of the visit despite his dislike of the great city as a whole.

She curled against him and he yielded, his arms now folded over her belly as she wore him like a cloak.  Smiling, she tilted her jaw to welcome his nuzzling and kisses.  They were young again, carefree and whole with hundreds of possibilities before them.

Lemony arrived at the rail, her round features tense with concern for Zhou.  Morisedd drew the little monk under his wing, pressing her playfully against Uriel’s side as the three of them gazed at the dwindling shore.  For a long time they were silent, remembering a time when it had only been the three of them trekking across Tyria in search of Uriel’s freedom.  Such bitter times, and yet she had spent them with her two most beloved friends.

“What are you going to call your guild?” asked Lemony after a time, trying to escape from somber thoughts.

“I want to name it for Master Leonitis.  It was his dream that I should found a new school of magic after the Searing and so it shall be his legacy.”

“The Legacy of Leonitis?” Morisedd murmured, “I suppose that works as well as any.”

“Poor Crystal Palm,” Lemony said.

Uriel frowned thoughtfully.  Legacy just sounded old and stuffy to her and she preferred something that pointed back to Zhou’s guild as well as to her master.  Tasos Leonitis and Dojin Matabe had been close friends, often visiting one another and constantly sending letters across the sea.  It was right that their guilds should be linked.  In fact, there was something wonderfully defiant about using the symbol of Crystal Palm for her new guild.

“I’ve decided upon The Hand of Tasos,” she said with a smile, “Because while my master is dead, his hand is guiding me still and is extended in friendship toward the open palm of our sister guild.”

“I like it,” said Lemony, “Feet and fingers just sound silly, but hands and palms I can live with.”

Uriel stared at the monk for a moment, trying to decide if she were being serious or not.  It was impossible to tell.

“I hope you put it somewhere warm.  And can we have a bath to soak in?”

“I’m thinking Kryta or Maguuma, but on an island so we have a ready made moat.”

“But big enough to have some forest,” Morisedd interjected, “because I plan to make it my home.”

“Don’t forget the bath,” Lemony repeated.

“Yes, it will have a bath.  Maybe we’ll make sure you have one all to yourself.”

“I’d let you use it. Sometimes.  Oh and a proper temple.  One with enough room for all the gods to have a little shrine to themselves because they like a little privacy.”

“I suppose we could do that.”

“Oh! We need a place for the children to play and a big building for the orphanage. The one they have now is much too small.”

“Lemony!”  Uriel protested, “It’s a guild hall, not a nursery.”

“We can’t leave the orphanage behind,” Lemony said firmly, “That would just be wrong.”

“Maybe we should call the new guild ‘The Lunacy of Lemony’,” Morisedd said quietly, “and place it on top of a mountain so we can all have our head in the clouds.”

Uriel stifled a laugh for the look on the little monk’s face was one of horror.  A mischievous smile turned the corners of Morisedd’s lips.

“But it’d be cold all the time,” she protested.  Before she could launch into a tirade, however, the lean ranger squeezed her roughly.

“I’ll hold Uriel’s feet to the fire,” he said, “We’ll get you your orphanage.”

Uriel opened her mouth to protest and sighed.  It was just like the old days.  Two of them were always keeping one of them off balance.  She squeezed Morisedd’s hand, loving him in spite of his sudden change of allegiance.  He was right, of course.  The little monk was happiest spending her time at the orphanage.  It sustained her in the face of loss.  For once, Uriel was in a position to give something back to Lemony.

“I suppose we can manage an orphanage, Lem,” she murmured, hugging the little monk.