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| Chapter 56. Illumination | |
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en?” came Lemony’s voice, frightened and gentle, “Are you there?” Somehow he had ended up on his hands and knees under a wagon. He was faintly aware of the others calling for him. In the aftermath of the attack his absence was causing a stir. Now that his heart was no longer skipping along at a frantic pace or lodged in his throat, his attention was drawn to the biting cold. Pendaran’s silk pantaloons and linen shift did little to warm him as he rested upon a sheet of ice. His breath curled in thick plumes around his face. He wondered bitterly if he would be able to salvage his dignity. “Pen?” Lemony called again, her voice pitched slightly higher. Fear radiated from her tiny form. Her boots scuffed anxiously over the ice near his head, “Dwayna help me, I can’t bear that anything bad has happened to him.” To his dismay he sensed Isabeau’s gentle spirit nearby and heard the soft patter of her feet. Embarrassment burned his cheeks and he silently prayed she would not think to look for him under the wagon. Bad enough that he was in his under garments, but he was also curled over like a frightened dog. “He was in his tent… I could have sworn he wasn’t hurt,” Lemony stammered. “I thought I sensed him here, but he’s not in the wagon and now I can’t find him at all,” said Isabeau, her concern nearly palpable. “You should take Micah in from the cold. We will find Peng Ren. I saw him after the attack and he appeared unharmed. He cannot have gotten far,” said Kazuma in his slow, measured way. “What if there were others and they took Penny?” Lemony said, her voice wavering as if on the verge of tears. “There was only one,” Kazuma said evenly, “Most likely Peng Ren panicked and let his feet do his thinking. The cold will sober him and we’ll have him in hand soon.” “I’ll fetch blankets and his robes,” Lemony said, “He’ll catch his death out here.” “We’ll find him,” Kazuma repeated and Pendaran bit his lip, painfully aware of Lemony’s grief and dismay. This was his fault and the honorable thing to do was to come out of hiding and let her see that he was safe and unharmed. Yet he stayed there shivering and stewing over his worthless dignity. Finally he crawled into the deep shadows on the opposite side of the wagon when Kazuma strode away to answer Mashiro’s call. Pendaran edged toward the privacy of his tent as casually as the cold allowed. His nape prickled as he sensed the attention of his guild mates directed upon him. “I’m alright,” he murmured, painfully aware that he was fooling no one, “Just had to umm… use the bushes.” “Penny!” Lemony squealed, nearly dropping the enormous ball of blankets and clothing she was carrying. “I’m alright, Lem,” he said gently, smiling down at her as she curled against him. “Wrap up in these, you must be freezing!” she exclaimed, “I’ll get you some hot tea. I had Isabeau get some help cleaning up in there.” “Oh… she’s in there?” he stammered, “I need my mask.” “I think Zhou will pardon you for not wearing it right now,” Lemony said peevishly, nudging him toward the entrance to his tent, “In you go.” He was freezing, so he did not delay shrugging into his robes and a blanket. His stockings were damp from walking across ice and snow and he could no longer feel his toes. Lemony gave him a matronly look when he hesitated to enter the tent. Having no adequate rebuttal, he took a deep breath and pushed the tent flap aside to enter the fluttering dimness within. “Isa, I found Penren!” Micah announced proudly. A ruddy glow emanated from a small squat brazier and already the air inside the tent felt far warmer than it did outside. In the fluttering light of an oil lamp, her lithe form unfurled slowly as she rose to greet him. The boy clung to her beneath the blanket. “Pendaran?” she asked as if disbelieving her eyes. “Yes,” he mumbled, “The accountant.” “Oh… well… interesting.” “Sorry.” Mute in her confusion she said nothing as he shuffled inside and sat on his bedding. “Are you alright?” she managed after he peeled his sodden stockings off and thrust his feet under some blankets. “I am unharmed.” “Why did you lie to me?” He looked away, his face ablaze with shame while a simultaneous sensation of relief and elation percolated through him. He could still hear her thoughts. He could still sense her gentle soul. Isabeau stared at him, still trying to understand how the mysterious figure with the Canthan name had transformed into a pathetic accountant. And yes, he had lied to her and now it was so insanely complicated he did not even know where to start without conflating his original lie. “I’m sorry. I lied out of necessity.” “I see,” she replied, her voice barely audible, “I want to know why, but I sense that you will lie again if I press the issue.” “I regret that I had to lie to you,” he said, “If I had followed orders and avoided you while I was off duty, this would not have happened. The fault is mine. I never wanted to hurt you.” “Is this yours?” she asked, holding up her wrist where a familiar golden bracelet glistened in the thin light. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice stolen by embarrassment. What had driven him to do that? Would he ever plumb the depths of his stupidity? Pendaran lowered his face to stare at his hands clasped tightly over the blankets, “I… just wanted to make you smile. I knew you were feeling sad and alone and I know how that feels. I’m a fool, I’m sorry…” Her lips brushed his cheek, warm against his chilled flesh. His anxious chatter ceased. “Stop apologizing, Pen. It means a lot to me. You are very dear and I value your friendship.” “You have every right to be angry at me… “ “And I’m not,” she chuckled, “I have glimpsed your true nature. How could I not adore you?” “I adore you, too.” “I know,” she laughed, “I think that’s why I liked the accountant more than the silent Peng Ren.” He blushed despite himself, realizing that she must have sensed his boyish crush during his off duty encounters. He suddenly felt very transparent, relieved and simultaneously horrified that she may have seen something of him that he had not wanted to reveal. “Thanks,” he said after a time, “I appreciate your honesty and your kindness.” “Will you come visit me after the Sigil is laid?” “Of course… as Zhou permits.” “Good!” she said, smiling brightly, “I think we were making progress on your treatment. I felt as if we’d released something this evening and I think if you let me continue, the counting and loss of focus will stop. I’m sure I could convince Master Bei to let you spend a little time with me each week.” “You’re right,” he replied, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice. Perhaps she had made him better, perhaps that was why even now he could sense her thoughts and the presence of his friends beyond the walls of the tent. But he was afraid that he was simply a beloved patient at best and an object of pity at worst, certainly not her equal. Pendaran knew he should feel gratitude but instead he felt ridiculous for even entertaining the thought of getting close to her. Is this why Zhou was trying to protect him? “Do you mind if I stay until Ming has made sure there are no other White Mantle spies about?” “Of course not,” he replied quickly, smiling, “There’s some extra blankets in that chest if you want to put Micah down to sleep. Stay as long as you’d like.” Pendaran watched Isabeau gently urge the boy to take refuge in a nest of blankets and furs, her delicate fingers lingering over the child’s dimpled cheek as she murmured an old Ascalonian lullaby. It was one his own mother might have sung to him, non-sense verses about a travelling circus and their unlikely cargo of animals and instruments. The little boy nodded off as Lemony arrived bearing a steaming mug and a platter of biscuits and cheese. “Drink this,” she whispered firmly upon seeing the sleeping boy. Despite the softness of her voice, Pendaran knew better than to refuse, “It’ll help you sleep. Imagine assassins attacking you again. You must have been terrified and practically defenseless without your mask.” “Hmm… yeah, defenseless,” he mumbled, receiving the fragrant tea. “We’ll stay in here with you tonight,” Lemony announced, “I’ll go get the bedding and clothes for tomorrow.” Pendaran nodded and obediently sipped the tea as Lemony placed some fire-warmed stones on the blankets near his feet. “You are defenseless while unmasked?” Isabeau asked after Lemony had gone. “Apparently.” “Yet while masked you are blind and dependent upon your friends to guide you.” “So it would seem.” “So those hexes on the assassin were not your doing?” “Kazuma is talented with curses.” “No doubt, but by the time I reached out to apprehend your assailant, Kazuma was no where to be seen and yet it was obvious the assassin was afflicted in mind and spirit.” Pendaran chuckled, realizing he had met his match. He could not lie to her. “I used magic for the first time in months without the aid of the mask,” he said, keeping his voice low and flat. Part of him wanted to cry out in relief and delight, but the greater part of him was numb, perhaps frightened. Seeming to sense his confusion, Isabeau sat closer to him and took his hand gently onto her lap. “It enhances your powers?” Pendaran shrugged. Zhou was singularly tight-lipped on the subject of the mask, his response to questioning always the same: Pendaran would know in time. “I don’t know, maybe. I can focus mentally. Maybe you helped me… released something that was blocking me.” Isabeau shook her head. “No, nothing we did could have done something so significant. In time, perhaps, but we have only worked together twice, hardly time to build trust let alone release the enormity of what troubles you.” He let the words sink in. Then, rising stiffly, he searched the tent for the mask until he found it kicked behind the stack of boxes. The sightless visage of gleaming silver loomed dispassionately from the shadows as he picked it up. “There is an enchantment they use… Zhou taught my friends… everyone close to me, so that they could help me don it and remove it at need.” “Mind if I look at it?” The cold brought him back to her and he handed it to her quickly so that he could dive back under the blankets while she examined it. “While I was at the academy, it was not uncommon for aspiring magicians to be blindfolded while learning to focus.” “My early training included that,” he said, imagining Isabeau would be disgusted if she knew about his wanton and oft times lawless behavior. Even as an adolescent he had been puerile and lascivious. It had gotten him kicked out of the academy long before his training was complete. There was much in his past that still brought him shame. He hoped she would not ask him which school he had attended. Please gods, spare him this one indignity among all the others he had suffered that night. “I do not think it is enchanted,” she said after a while, “Then again, I am hardly an expert in such things.” How like Zhou to do something like this to him. And Pendaran had stupidly gone along with it. “No, I think you are right. I imagine Zhou may not be so tight-lipped when next we meet.” Isabeau gave him a puzzled look. “He must care about you a great deal,” she said, “Maybe he wanted you to know how much everyone around you cared about your welfare. Maybe being forced to let others take care of you was what you needed most.” He flushed with embarrassment, admiring her for having such insight into Zhou’s bizarre antics. Lemony arrived in a flurry of blankets and clothing, the top of her bald pate barely visible above them. She thrust through the tent flap, momentarily getting snagged and causing the structure to shudder until she stepped off of the hem of her coat and staggered inside. “That boy is not White Mantle,” Lemony grumbled, out of breath and clearly annoyed, “He might be doing their dirty work, but he’s just hungry and desperate.” Pendaran imagined the little monk had broken up another encounter between Ming and the mysterious assassin captive. “How do you know?” Isabeau asked as she rose to unburden the small figure. Lemony dropped unceremoniously onto the edge of the bedding beside Pendaran. “Lyssa told me,” the monk said with her usual mad certainty. “She regularly talks to the gods,” Pendaran explained with a chuckle. Isabeau smiled, but it was difficult to ignore the way she looked at him. “Lyssa told me to take care of you as well,” Lemony protested. “I suspect I’ll be grateful one day,” he grumbled. “You should be!” Lemony said, stifling a yawn, “We should sleep. Move over, you ungrateful lump.” Pendaran watched in stunned amusement as Lemony drew aside his blankets and curled under them while still fully clad in her fur-trimmed leathers. “Good night, Pen,” she yawned. “I suppose I should take the other side,” Isabeau chuckled, “I hope you have room.” “…narg…” he muttered. Isabeau extinguished the little oil lamp and curled up beside him. He stayed absolutely still between the two women, realizing that in another time and place, this would have been very close to his ideal of paradise. Close except that there was a small child sleeping nearby and one of the women was Lemony. “Lyssa, if you’re listening and watching, I hope you’re satisfied,” he thought, trying to stifle a laugh. And for a long time he lay awake in the darkness. The warmth of their bodies mingled with his until he relaxed into the knowledge that he was not alone, that he was surrounded by people who loved him and that he had every reason to be grateful. Maybe this was paradise after all. |
