Closed [The Sanctuary] Something Amiss? (Kavala)

[Timothy Mered]

12th of Winter 514AV

Frowning in concentration, Tim stared at his arm. Almost… he squeezed his lips together, putting all his will behind his effort almost… “Move,” he muttered under his breath, but his left hand remained motionless aside from the dull throb drumming in harmony with his heart. Yawning, he slid off the edge of his bed and carefully lifted his left arm into the cotton sling hanging from his neck. With treatment, the pain had dulled, disappeared almost, but it would take weeks before his broken wrist would be fully recovered.

Just months ago, he would’ve begged to be in this position. To be free, to be well looked after. Now, he almost longed back to Kenash. He had had a purpose there. Here he was a foreigner, a stranger, an outcast picked off the streets out of charity and pity. But who knew for how long these people would feel charitable? What if they learned of his many petty crimes in the city, just days before? They had been kind to him, and some had expressed curiosity, but he’d kept them at bay. To them, he was Thomas Caine, not Timothy Mered, and he thought it best to keep them in the dark about his true identity. Kenash had taught him not to mention his Sunberthian origins to anyone, or they would think lesser of him. So far, he had simply refused to give specific answers and he didn’t feel the usual pang stabbing his heart when he lied, only frigid indifference.

Over the past two days of obligatory resting, he’d concluded it would be best not to test their patience too much and so he had cooked up a plan. He would tell their leader, a woman called Kavala, exactly where he was from, why he was here, and even explain the mark on his forehead if she would ask him to. Some of it would be true, most of it would be half-true, and parts of it would be lies. Not that it mattered, all that mattered was ensuring that he wouldn’t be down at the docks again, with the pavement for a pillow and snow for a blanket.

Shoes tapping quietly against the cold stone, he abandoned the white linen beds and meandered through a maze of halls and corridors before he found his way out. The fierce winter light forced him to stare at his feet as went through a small garden, and reached the main entrance. He’d only caught a glimpse of the sea when he’d been taken to The Sanctuary. A gust of wind carried the brine scent of the deep and made his eyes water. Below, green pastures stretched out towards the road, separating the stronghold from the jagged cliffs. Yet it was the vast, brewing expense below that caught his attention. The sea. He closed his eyes and smelled the air, it reeked of freedom and opportunity. This wouldn’t be a bad place to call home, he thought vaguely.

It took him many more chimes of aimless wandering before a pale boy with a sharp jaw and stormy eyes asked if he required assistance.

“I am looking for Kavala,” Timothy murmured, hugging himself tightly. He’d been allotted a fresh shirt, woolen trousers, fur boots and bright red neckerchief but no overcoat to shield him against the cold. Maybe I am not supposed to go outside yet…

“Ah,” Aweston replied. “You’re the new boy eh?” He shot a warm smile at Timothy and made a deep, theatrical bow, his long hair gracefully flowing after his head. “I am Aweston The Magnificent, Head Groom of The Sanctuary, pleasure to meet you…?”

Timothy chuckled at the groom’s theatrics. “…Ti- Thomas,” he answered Aweston’s questioning gaze. “Thomas Caine. I’d very much like to speak with Kavala if you know where she is?”

“Oh.” Aweston looked taken aback, a light frown bringing his dark brows together. “Kavala…hmm…” his eyes darted skyward. “No…I haven’t heard of any Kavala…are you sur-“ He never finished his sentence as Timothy’s stumped look made him break into laughter. “You’ll have to forgive me kiddo,” he slammed Tim on the back, “it’s sort of a joke I pull on all the new folks.”

Unsure what to think of the cheerful, but queer groom, Timothy followed the young man’s instructions to the letter and made his way to Kavala’s private quarters. The air was cooler there, though not as chilling as outside. Patting his head in a futile attempt to flatten his hair, Timothy went over his story one more time. I am Thomas Caine from Syliras, I came here with a travelling circus, the mark on my head is their signature. He didn’t quite know what this Kavala would be like but he dearly hoped she wouldn’t inquire about the mark too much. In Kenash it had been easy to forget about it, but here people would give him odd looks and force him to avert his gaze in shame.

If she would hear his hesitant knock and open the door, he would politely ask for a private conversation and, if she’ allow it, step into her quarters to tell her his tale.
“I wanted to thank you,” he would begin, green eyes keenly absorbing the mysterious pale woman, trying to assess if she was more like Hirem or more like Jed in character. “I hardly feel any pain anymore,” he would jut his chin towards his bandaged wrist, “and thanks for the food too, and the shelter, and the clothes and…” He would snap his jaw shut there, straighten up, fold his right hand behind his back and respectfully wait if she had anything to ask of him for he had prepared his answers.

[Kavala]

The quarters 'Thomas' was shown too was not in fact Kavala's suite. She did no more there than sleep or spend time with her children. They were somewhat of a sacred space anyhow, though all of the employees would be allowed and encouraged to roam The Within freely. Timothy was shown to one of the sideshows of The Sanctuary, a private domain of healers turned curious seekers.

It was a private isolation laboratory that stretched almost the length of one of the barns underground. It had two stories, with the main lab being all at 'ground level' and two smaller labs - one mostly an office - making up a mezzanine on each end. The mezzanine was connected by short walkways to each other, but spiral staircases lead upwards or downwards on each end. One could, for quick fun, scale a stone ladder on one side of the lab, or slide down a pole on another edge. Below the laboratory's walls were covered with blackboards, and its center was lined with tables of chemicals and laboratory equipment that in some ways sat idle and in other ways were in use. Handwriting covered the walls, mostly in Common, that depicted notes about the Akalak in some cases and in other causes a drug of some sort called Demaru. Those notes were more extensive and included pictures that gave some credence to it being something of a sealife thing in origin. Cots were stowed up against one wall, but it was obvious that she used the space for her private work more than she did to care for patients. At the far end there were cages of animals, mostly mice, that filled up the space beneath the mezzanines.

The space smelled like animals and chemicals but it was exceptionally clean. There wasn't a speck of dirt anywhere. Aweston entered through the Within stair, then lead 'Thomas' up the other spiral to Kavala's philtering lab where her massive desk was. She was bent over it writing out meticulous notes.

Kavala sat at a desk on one Mezzanine, overlooking the whole mess. Paperwork and bookshelves lined walls around her filled with everything imaginable in a vial or jar, dried or otherwise preserved. It looked like a philtering lab on one end - the end where her desk was - and a poiosn lab on the other end. A great many of the items at the far end were labeled with a bright red X that read poison. And there was a bright white line of mosaic stone crossing the floor past what looked like a pole for sliding down to the main level. "Don't cross the white line into the poison lab ever. The things beyond it can hurt you... poisons and such..." Aweston cautioned with a smile. "Those that do get fed to the dogs... or the kelvics that are around here." He said with a grin, nodded to Kavala who had looked up from her writing and had offered the boy a smile. Once Thomas was deposited safely in Kavala's care, Aweston was off again.

"Hello there. What can I do for you today?" She asked. When he began to speak she nodded. "Still resting your wrist? Good... we can fix the breaks good as new but we still have to give the limb time to know its healed and for the soft tissues around it to recognize they aren't injured anymore. Tissues are stubborn like that, no?" She asked setting aside the quill she was using and moving the still-wet inked page away from her on her desk so she didn't inadvertently smudge the thoughts she was putting down on paper.

"Have a seat will you?" She said, rising then to move some paperwork off a chair that seemed to be placed by the desk just so two people could hold a discussion. "There's no thanks needed, you know. We're glad to have you about." The Konti said, hoping the boy understood that. Life was rough. He was lucky to be alive. And while she had no idea what his origins were, she knew the story would come out sooner than later.

[Timothy Mered]

12th of Winter 514Av1

oocWhoops, I probably should have known that Kavala wouldn't discuss business in her private quarters. My bad. I've done my best to rectify it in line with the fix you provided. If anything else needs to change or you'd like me to fix my first post, let me know.

“How long did you wait there?” Aweston inquired as he led Timothy to the isolation laboratory.

“Just a few chimes.”

Aweston snickered. “And you never thought maybe you’d passed the right door?”

Timothy shrugged.

“New. Shy. I get it. Anyway, here you go.” The groom led the way up a winding stair into a large, open space that was impeccably maintained, despite the wild variety of vials, jars, cages and bookshelves. “Come on, keep up,” Aweston urged. Timothy tore his gaze from the slanted scribbles on the blackboards and carefully maneuvered around a table stacked with cauldrons, mortars and dried herbs. Another spiral carried them up, the distinct scent of parchment impregnated the air.

"Don't cross the white line into the poison lab ever. The things beyond it can hurt you... poisons and such..." Aweston cautioned with a smile. Those that do get fed to the dogs... or the kelvics that are around here."

Timothy nodded vigorously, trying to shake off the curiosity growing like a vine in chest. He wondered if Aweston was being serious or just trying to scare him off. He turned around and craned his neck, trying to get a glimpse of what lay beyond the white line. He had no particular interest in poisons, yet the mere fact that he was forbidden to reach for them made him yearn to hold one.

“Hello there. What can I do for you today?”

The mellow voice, gentle as a breeze, made him turn back around. Seated behind a desk littered with papers was Kavala. His jaw slackened a little. He’d expected someone taller, someone broader, someone with a rugged countenance. He had expected a man to be the sole leader of this safe haven. He had expected more than the lithe, blonde woman in battle-leathers seizing him up with stark azure eyes. Yet she listened to and answered all of his questions with great patience. Reminding himself to be polite, he dipped his head into a curt bow before rising back up again.

“My name’s Thomas. At your service.“ She spoke of the tissue as if it was a conscious, living being. He wrinkled his nose, “you didn't use magic, did you? I hate magic.” The Sunberthian inside swore that it would have been better if he had his hand chopped off rather than entrusting some wizard to heal it. Yet the pain was distant, and he didn’t feel much different. It was hard to be ungrateful to the people that had embraced him so eagerly. Still, he made a mental note to be weary of them. If his healer had used magic, they could not be trusted, it was as simple as that. "No offense," he muttered quickly, thinking it increasingly likely that magic had indeed be employed to heal his mangled wrist.

It would be impolite to deny the chair she’d cleared for him, but he chose to sit down at the very edge. His throat tightened. Whether she pitied him or was truly happy to have him around, he didn’t know. His mind choose to believe the former whereas his drumming heart preferred the latter. It took him only a tick to realize that Kavala expected him to state his business first. Eyes shot towards the ceiling as he searched for words. He had thought out his story to the most minute detail, but now that he was seated opposite Kavala, he couldn’t bring himself to utter the lie. Where would he even start? After ten ticks of panicked silence, he finally mustered the courage to meet her gaze full-on.

“What is this place?” he breathed. Now that he’d broken the silence, the avalanche of questions he’d kept at bay for two days came crashing down. “Why did you help me? Do you know Hirem?” His eyes widened as he choked out, “you won’t send me away, will you? I can do thing with one hand too! I am right-handed and…” his jaw snapped shut as he retreated an inch into the chair. “It’s just, I don’t want to be a burden, I’ll be on my way before the sun sets if that’s what you want…”

[Kavala]

“Nice to meet you, Thomas. I’ve heard a little… your arm and all.” Kavala said, gesturing to the boy’s formerly broken wrist. She studied him as he was dropped off, meeting Aweston’s eye for a moment before the groom disappeared the way he’d come grinning. She knew her Drykas cousin hated it when she retreated to the lab for long hours. He felt it was unhealthy and that Kavala needed to keep herself above ground where the she could see the sky and taste the wind. Sometimes she agreed. But she was truthfully equally at home among the stone she’d altered with her power. It sang to her blood, calling to her Djed, and within its warm and welcoming fold, the Konti secretly never felt alone.

“You shouldn’t hate magic.” The Konti said softly, amusement flickering across her face. “We are all made of it. To hate it, you would be forced to hate yourself, the sky, the sea, and even the ground you walk upon. Djed, which is what magic is, fills all things… even the air you are breathing right now, Thomas. And I don’t think you are a person deserving of hate, are you?” The Konti asked, her voice reasonable. She leaned forward, the leathers wrapping her body slide against the stone seat she perched on, causing her to never quite be silent unless she was sitting absolutely still. Her long translucent hair wasn’t exactly blond. It was more white than anything, as if the color had been leached from it, highlighting how tanned she was, even for a Konti. Candlelight, which was the only form of lighting beneath the ground, cast a golden glow about her and created an atmosphere that whispered of secrets and shadows. She looked like she belonged to them.

Thomas seemingly wanted to tell her something. It wasn’t his lips moving, but his body seemed unable to contain whatever it was he was holding tight. The Konti kept quiet, hopeful that the boy would feel the need to fill the silence with words. He did indeed, but the Konti felt the crush of disappointment when she felt his words were not what he really wanted to say.

But they had to clear the air somehow. Meeting new people was like a dance. One person moved and the other followed until their bodies relaxed and picked up a rhythm. She watched for the moment, her azure gaze meeting his own brave gaze that had yet to go soft in relaxation. A string of questions followed and she nodded her encouragement, letting him lay down the questions as he would.

“This place is magic. Once, about four years ago, it was just a cliff overlooking the sea. Now it is a fortress carved out of the cliff by magic and will. It shelters us, welcoming us, because now it has a purpose and a job and it is not so alone as it was before holding its timeless vigil over the ocean. Now it has our lives to mark the passing of its time and not just the rising and setting of sun and the lonely cry of gulls.” Kavala said, not worried about the boy seeing her softer more truthful side. She fought for their security, building each room breath by breath, but what she spoke about The Sanctuary was in her mind a reality. It was a living breathing thing.

“But if you mean this place, it is my laboratory. It’s where I study things, working out problems like plagues or why the Akalaks rarely have children. I am trying to find out how disease moves and spreads to I can help others to not get sick.” She said reasonably, reaching up and running a ink-stained set of fingers through her hair, pushing it out of her eyes where it had slipped to conceal part of her gaze.

The Konti leaned back, seemingly trying to remember what else he’d asked. “I helped you because that’s what I do. This place is a place of healing. The lost come here to catch their breath, get some rest, and a little food in them. Then, when they aren’t starving, cold, and bone weary, they can make better choices and decide on what they need to do next. Sometimes they move on, following their goals or dreams. Sometimes, like Aweston, they stay on and never decide to leave.” Kavala said, answering him thoughtfully and as simply as she could.

“I know Hirem, yes. He visits here and sometimes works on things with me. I greatly respect and like him as a person. I like him so much because he asks questions and those questions cause me to ask my own questions as well. He makes me think. And I think we work well together.” She added, looking thoughtful.

“You can leave before the sun sets if you want. But I would be disappointed. I had hoped you’d stay a few days, get warm, clean, rest a bit, and then try your hand at some jobs around here to see what you like doing. Of course… being hateful of magic, I could see how such things could be less than appealing to you since to stay you’d have to dwell among mages and their magic. You never told me why you hate magic, Thomas. I’d very much like to hear your reasoning for it. And truthfully, though I don’t want to make you change your mind, I’d really like to be given a chance to perhaps show you that not all magic is to be hated and that sometimes it can be your ally.” Kavala said, leaning forward, meeting the boys gaze.

“I’d also like very much to hear how you ended up here, Thomas. Your life is none of my business, and I know that. But sometimes it helps to talk about things. And whether you believe me or not, often I think we meet people for a reason. There’s bound to be something you have to teach me or show me or remind me about and there’s something I’m probably here to do for you. The Gods don’t put people in each other’s paths for no reason. Maybe you’ll save my life in a day or two… or maybe I’ll teach you how to bake bread and you find your calling in life is to bake the most delicious things the rest of your life. We won’t know until we walk life together on the same road. Do you understand? I’d very much like to do so for a while in your company… walk along the road of life that is… but its not required. No one can ever force you to do something you don’t want to do if you have the right tools to prevent that from happening. But here and now, with this meeting, you have a choice. What you decide to do and say right now will set the stage for the future, Thomas. You can be honest with me or you can even lie to me or say you need help when perhaps all you’ve actually done is come here to rob me blind because you think I’ll believe anything you say because you’ve got a certain charm to you. And you’d probably be right.” Kavala said, hinting at but not exactly pointing out that the boy stood at a crossroads, with a multitude of pathways he could choose to pick and walk down. Some were good, some bad, some indifferent. She was curious which path he’d take and just why he was sitting across from her in her office fidgeting like there was something inside him that he could barely withhold anymore.

[Timothy Mered]

12th of Winter 514Av

Her voice was gentle and flowed like the tides. His features hardened in return. She liked Hirem, but Timothy wasn't sure about the Benshira. The man had come to his aid, but he was beginning to question the motives. What exactly had happened two days past was largely a blur and he couldn't believe the dark-skinned man had simply acted out of kindness. Maybe it was just a ruse, maybe they were both in on it. But why?

The more she talked, the further he slumped back into the chair, as if her words did nothing but bore him and lull him into sleep. That was what he wanted her to believe, just to spite her, just to counter her gut-wrenching calm. Every fibre of his being tensed like a spring and he didn’t know how long it would be until his frustration would come bursting out. Somewhere in the deepest, darkest corner of his mind he knew Kavala was right about magic, but he couldn’t stomach being wrong. For over ten years he had been warned about the dangers of magic. Mages could not be trusted. Magic was so foul that even the most vicious Sunberthian gangs swore to unite against mages should the pretentious petchers dare set foot in Sunberth. He knew he had been a mouse in a city full of rats, but that didn’t mean every rumor in the bloodied city was a lie. It was mages that enslaved the people of Sunberth, he reminded himself, and I cannot forgive any slaver. They deserve to be burnt alive!

He shot a scorching stare at Kavala and if he had had magic, he would’ve set the books behind her on fire with it. “You’re lying,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t have magic. Magic is no part of me and I don’t want anything to do with it!”

Every tick she continued to speak, he felt his anger double. The bitch thought she had outsmarted him, thought she could make him trust her with a few sweet words and a few false promises. Truly, there was no goodness left in the world anymore. She wanted him to stay, but what a fool he would be to willingly fetter himself to this place. She spoke of the gods too, the likes of Yahal who had ignored his fervent prayers. Further and further he retreated into the chair, wishing to simply dissolve in the leather. Her honeyed words made him nauseous.

The scent of molten wax accompanied the dance of orange lights as the candles flickered under a loud huff. “I don’t believe in your nice stories. You cannot have built all this with magic alone. Magic kills people and enslaves them, that’s all it has ever done!” his voice was shrill and cold. As if he cared for her stories about The Sanctuary! You asked for them.. he shook the thought off. Already her dark magic was affecting him, turning his mind against him! How could she sit there, feigning calmness? How could she maintain that magic was part of everything when he hadn’t done a magical thing in his live? Luck had allowed him to survive, not magic, and certainly not the gods. For reasons he couldn’t fathom she was trying to deceive him, trying to lure him into some arcane art and to do her bidding! Once too often had he fallen for people pretending to be kind. She was decidedly one of those people, one of those vultures seeking to enrich herself by putting others to work. Unable to crop up his anger any longer, he flew up out of the chair and slammed his good hand down on her desk. “STOP LYING!”

You’re lying too…

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR PETTY LABORATORY!”

She saved you…

“PETCH MAGIC!”

She's only trying to help...

He swept his arm across the length of her desk, swiping half of the papers aside and knocking over a candle in the process. The flame fell to the floor and was snuffed out. But there was no lack of heat in the room. “YOU!”

She took you in!

He pointed a trembling finger at her, imagining it could cut straight through her. "YOU’RE JUST…You’re just…”

You’d be DEAD without this place

His chin trembled.

Just as sudden as he'd leapt up, an invisible hand sucker-punched him back into the chair, face pale as a ghost, chest rapidly deflating. Every muscle slackened, save for his quivering lower lip. He expected her to burst into anger too, part of him wanted her to be angry with him, then at least his fury would have been justified. Yet he knew how unlikely that was.

An icy drop, like dew, stuck to his eyelashes before it splattered down onto his cheek and slowly crept down. Yet he remained frozen, too stupefied, too exhausted to even lift a finger and brush the salty tear away.

“I am sorry,” he swallowed, his voice was hollow and distant. Questions, more than fit onto the pages of all her books, raced through his mind. Why couldn’t he shake this angry feeling? Why had he lied about his name? He shivered. I am not in control of myself anymore.

“Please,” watery green eyes pleaded with her. “Please help me cure this illness! My name’s not Thomas, it’s Timothy. I wanted to say I was from Syliras but my mother raised me in Sunberth. I have stolen, Kavala, ever since I came here I’ve tried to, but never before then…” The lump in his throat broke. He could not stop his tormented soul from pouring out of his mouth. Averting his gaze to the ground, he continued, “I want to be good. I try so hard to be good, but it hurts so bad...”

He brought his sleeve to his eyes and patted them dry, but the pained look remained. He was not just a mouse in a world full of lions, he was stuck in a dark hole too. The only light being the white of a predator’s eyes. “D- Do you- do you really think we we’re supposed to meet?” Bitter sobs tore through his words until finally, his ragged breathing started to ease and he dared to meet Kavala’s gaze again. “W- Why?”

[Kavala]

There was something inside of him indeed. As so many times before, Kavala wished her gift worked on more than kelvics and animals. She wished it worked on little boys. Because she would have then had a heads-up about his anger and how it coiled within him like a living thing. And from where The Konti sat, it definitely looked like it was eating him alive. She didn’t react when he did, the only sign of her acknowledging his outburst was a furrowed brow. She looked pensive, puzzled, and slightly worried. She shouldn’t have looked like anything at all because Kavala had long since schooled her expressions to not react to things like this… but Thomas had surprised her.

He went on, his rage seemingly started and burning hot like a wildfire. She knew she’d have to let it run its course and run out of fuel. Cutting him off mid sentence would serve him nor herself no better either. She needed to hear the whole of it and what was inside him. The denials and rejection came rolling out of him.

When he swept her desk, the Konti didn’t react. She’d had a heads up about it and a chance to face his rage head on. She half expected him to attack her with small fists and a body ill-suited to truly shed the pain he must have been carrying for quite some time. But the Konti didn’t think it was about magic, his pain, not really. She watched him melt down like an over hot candle wick in wax too soft to support it, and knew if she’d been his mother how angry she’d have been that something – life perhaps itself – had hurt her son so early so young.

Kavala sat impassive behind her desk, but she was not unmoved. She waited, instead, as a mother herself… for the outburst to run its course. And when it did, the tears started to fall and the little form huddled in the chair with the big weighed down soul broke her heart. She rose then, finally, and circled the desk and walked to the chair. Then she knelt down so she was on his level, not touching him and not crowding his space. Instead she met his gaze, her clear blue eyes having gone pale – so pale they made her look blind – in the half light remaining from a lone candle burning on a bookshelf behind them.

“It’s never a bad thing to try to survive, Timothy. It’s our most basic instinct. And to survive, you sometimes have to do things you don’t like including stealing. Sometimes you even have to hurt people. It becomes your past every time its over and you’ve done it. But it doesn’t have to rule your future. I’m sorry you’ve been in a position where you’ve had to do things you don’t want too. No one should be tired, hungry, or afraid. It would make anyone angry. You aren’t sick, Timothy. I would know. I’m a healer and a fine one at that.” Kavala said, then took a quiet breath. She seemed to regather her thoughts before she continued.

“You are angry though… very angry. And your anger is understandable. No one should have to grow up so fast and take care of themselves so young. You should have had people to protect you, nurture you, and give you time to play. Where are your parents? I know the world is hard. I know sometimes people have to leave and they don’t have a choice. It’s not fair… it’s never fair. There are a dozen things that could have gone wrong and put you in this situation. I’m not sorry you are here though. Here, surrounded by all this magic and these mages, you can be safe. You can take some time to not be tired because you can sleep soundly. You can eat all you want and not know hunger. And most of all, you can work on that anger and find something to replace it if you choose. I’d rather think love or laughter or adventure would feel a lot better filling you up than that rage you are living with. It will eat you alive like a living thing coiled in your belly eroding away at your guts if you let it. And here we can teach you to defend yourself. And we can teach you about magic so you know first hand what it is and what it isn’t.” Kavala said, starting his first lesson immediately.

She drew a dagger from the brace of them that usually rested comfortably across her chest. It was a throwing dagger, balanced and made of Isurian Steel. She laid it on the arm of his chair and traced a finger down its length, slicing open her digit, letting blood leak from the finger so he could see how razor sharp it was.

“Do you know what this is? It’s a throwing Dagger, Timothy. It’s razor sharp and could kill either one of us in a moment. It has the power to slice our throats wide open or the veins in our wrists. One could plunge it into someone’s heart and end their heartbeats between one breath and the next. It can also slice up meat for cooking. It can cut a line on a tangled carriage horse’s tug and free the beast so it can’t hurt itself. It can spring a trap, carve someone’s name in a table, and it can cut line on a pole to free a fish newly caught.” Kavala said, still toying with the dagger, then withdrawing her hand. She half wanted to see how bold he was and if he was violent. Anger wasn’t always a good thing and she had small children in the fortress. Leaving it there for him to touch, tempting him, was a test of sorts, even as she continued her lecture.

“It’s not the dagger that does these things, Timothy. It’s the person – the hand – gripping it. In and of itself it has no will, no soul, no motivation and no purpose other than what we give it. It is simply a tool. Do you understand? Magic is the same thing. Magic is a tool. And yes, its inside you… along with blood, tissue, bones, and your soul. It is not its own fault that it exists. And its not inherently evil like you claim. It is only a tool. And if someone shows you…. I can show you Timothy… you can even seen it for yourself. You can know what to look for because it can’t hide from us. We are too smart… those of us trained on how to see.” She said, still kneeling before him, and letting the dagger rest between them like half a threat and half a promise.

[Timothy Mered]

12th of Winter 514Av

Silence. She knelt down before him, but he couldn’t stand to face her calm eyes until she began to speak. No berating followed, not an angry word was uttered. Even in the half-dark her pale eyes were not that of a hungry predator, but calm, steady orbs radiating peace and understanding. He could not hate her or be angry with her, even if he wanted to. His limbs felt like wet rags dripping with water and his rage melted away. Her voice gave him wings, and in his mind he flew back to the Mered Shack in Sunset Quarter. The chair’s leather turned to a straw matress and he could see his mother sitting on the edge of his bed, her thumb tracing his forehead. She didn’t speak, she merely smiled. Within a blink the vision was gone, and he found himself in the half-dark again.

“You aren’t sick, Timothy. I would know.”

“It doesn't feel like that,” he said bitterly, “I’ve never been so angry before, and all you did was help me…” He shook his head vigorously, trying to shake the lisping snake that slithered around his neck, whispering vicious thoughts into his ears.What does she know of survival?

He flared his nostrils Go away!

You’re so very weak. Where would you be without me?

Go away…

Slippery scales tightened around his throat, the snake’s body rattled impatiently. Don’t think she cares for you. Who would care for you? You’re nothing, you’re nobody, you’re a burden to everyone.

He did not listen to the creature. Kavala’s voice carried soothing words. She did care, he could hear the pity in her voice, but more than that-

She understands. You don’t know anything.

Listen to me! I save-

I won’t ever let you back in again!

Hissing, the creature slipped away, but he could steel feel its presence in a distant corner of his mind. The cords in his neck eased, but without anger to sustain him, he was left to lean on a hollow pillar. His eyelids grew heavy. Kavala promised safety and nourishment and she didn’t stop there, she even offered to instruct him about magic. The word made his heat skip a beat, but could no longer evoke blistering anger.

The ring of steel tore him from his feverish visions. Nails dug deep into the leather chair. What is she up to? Shimmering like a silver fang, his eyes traced the blade to where she put it down. He could almost taste the bitter metal as she drew blood. It was just a shallow cut, yet he tensed as if the finger, blossoming red, was his own.

She not just a healer, Timothy kicked himself inwardly for not having realized it before. The dagger, her combat leathers…she fit right in to the city of warriors. He feared she was just as adapt at hurting as she was at healing. A relieved sigh crossed his lips when she asked him if he knew what the dagger was. Suspecting a trick question, he shook his head. Throwing dagger or not, all he had eye for was the sharp edge and stinging tip, pointing accusingly at him. He couldn’t keep any mental images at bay as she described how the blade could tat him open like a goose. When she left it within his reach, his finger traced the groove of the metal and for a tick he saw himself grabbing the handle and plunging the deadly tip through her heart.

His hand reached out-

For his other wrist, carefully putting it down in his lap. The dagger remained undisturbed.

“I don’t feel smart.” He trained his eyes on his feet, then glanced up, a faint, watery smile curling his lips. “I feel rather stupid now to be honest..”

For a moment only the steady flickering of the candle sounded. Despite his anger, the flame had remained like a beacon of hope. “I don’t know what to say…I…” He straightened up a little, strength was slowly seeping back into him. “Maybe…maybe I can be like the knife, maybe I can do something useful too…Will you really teach me?” Hope, though quivering and frail, brightened his eyes.

A light grin flashed across his face as he glanced down at the scattered papers on the floor. “Sorry about the mess…”

[Kavala]

“You should feel smart, Timothy. And proud as well.” Kavala said gently, slowly reaching out as if not to startle him and picking up the dagger. It was wiped of blood on her leather clad leg and slipped back into its sheath. Then she ran the finger of her opposite hand down the shallow cut on her digit, closing the wound in a soft glow of blue. “Most people can’t survive out on their own in the wilds. Most people aren’t smart enough too. You must be very clever and very determined… and I suspect very stubborn to have made it this long alone. Will you tell me when you are ready too, Timothy…. Why you are alone?” She asked, rising up and offering him his hand. She moved slowly, carefully, and kept her movements to a minimum.

Kavala had plenty of experience with skittish animals, horses to be exact. Could wary little boys be even worse? “And yes… I really will show you. But like I said, I’ll teach you how to see first. Then once you can tell what I am saying is truthful, then you can decide how much more you want to learn.” She said softly, stepping backward and holding out her hand.

If he took it, she’d continue, leading him over to a blank wall in her office, one where the philtering lab equipment wasn’t resting on counters or tables and there were no bookshelves crowding it. “The magic that built The Sanctuary is called Reimancy. It’s about the four elements, Timothy. There are earth, air, fire, and water. Some say there is even a fifth, one that reimancers often strive to find. I know this magic and it is part of my heart. I have a special affinity to the earth, Timothy. It sings to me like nothing I could explain to you. Earth reimancers call themselves geomancers because we are a special kind of mage. We can move mountains if we desire, though the mountain itself might protest to us and cause us to respect its authority.” She said, pausing and then offering him a miscevious grin.

“Do you like to get dirty? The thing about Reimancers is that we LOVE to get dirty. Come… I’ll show you.” And with that, she tugged at his hand and walked him towards the wall. She felt the power wield up inside of her and instead of breathing outward like some mages did, her whole body resonated with her djed, converting it to res and casting it forward. It hit the wall like an invisible wash of sound and converted the stone in front of them to air. Kavala stepped forward, keeping the power up, as she tunneled into the side of the world. If she could get Timothy to come with her, she could wrap the power around them in a bubble that the power flowed around. She could then walk forward, her djed changing stone to air, wrapping back up, and converting air to stone behind them until they seemingly walked through the very stone of the cliff in a pocket of darkness.

The Konti knew where they were going. She could sense the underground of The Within like she was navigating her own organs tucked into her visceral cavity. And if the little boy let her, she’d lead him straight to the Commons, and get some food in him. After his outburst, which seemed to her to be long overdue, she felt like she needed to fill him with as much energy as she could in the form of a meal and then sit down like she promised to teach him the basics of auristics. If he could see things, he could not let them make him afraid. Of all the magics, in Kavala’s mind, aurisitcs was the most empowering. And Timothy would soon find that out when they burst through a blank wall and into the Kitchens of the Commons covered in the dust Kavala’s conversions had generated and coughing slightly. She was good, but still working with earth had its drawbacks. One of them was the dirt itself.

[Timothy Mered]

12th of Winter 514Av

He was certain someone had opened a window as the air seemed to clear. A whiff of mint pricked his nostrils and his shoulders dropped to their normal height. He wondered if she imbued her words with magic too, for he could feel his chest swell with pride as she complimented him. Cold little fingers intertwined with her hand like ivy coiling around a tree’s bark. The soft, gentle touch made his heart flutter and with just a little imagination Kavala’s hand was like his mother’s. It wasn’t just her alto voice that revealed a dimple on his cheek, new colors entered the world and the heavy, invisible cloak he’d been dragging around dissolved into thin air.

“Thank you,” he whispered. Gratitude pooled into grass-green, bleary eyes. His feet pattered in small steps after her. Jed had taught him long ago that he was supposed to walk behind his elders, and he didn’t want to upset Kavala anymore than he already had. Wasn’t she even a bit angry with him? He tried to read her face but couldn’t decipher the sharp jaw and high cheekbones. Dropping his gaze to her arm he noticed two things straightaway. “Are those...scales?” his brows met in the middle. Faint scares littered her arm, as if the skin had been raked by overgrown nails. “Aren’t you hurting?”

She halted opposite a blank wall. His eyes reduced to slits as he tried to glimpse something. A symbol, a scribble, something out of the ordinary, perhaps a hidden door handle? But there was nothing there, just stones. This had to be some kind of test. She had talked about opening his eyes to magic, and so he doubled his efforts to see something hidden between the slabs.

Stopping his efforts, Timothy cocked his head and listened intently to her explanation, soaking up every piece of new information like a sponge. “A fifth magic?” He didn’t understand. Fire, earth, water, air, these things he could understand. That some people could bend these elements to their will, he accepted too. But there was nothing more than those four elements, so how could there be a fifth? The only answer that came was a mischievous smile.
“Well, I don’t mind a bit of mud but I don’t have many other cloth- Oh!” His jaw slackened as the wall opened up before his very eyes. Stupified, he hardly felt her light tug. It was as if some invisible force thrummed in the air surrounding them. “How did you do that?”

Fear and doubt were suspended in favor of curiosity. Truly, he had misjudged Kavala completely. If even the earth bended to her will, if she had really built all of the sanctuary just by willing it…His first thought was of the wonders that could be performed with such a skill. His second was of the terrifying power it bestowed on those who choose to master it. Gasping, he edged a little closer to Kavala as the wall closed behind them, darkness enveloping them both.

Yet she walked forward, and he stumbled after her. His hand grew cold with sweat, and he prayed dearly she wouldn’t let go. After a chime, his eyes began to adapt, though he wasn’t sure if he was staring at rock or figments of his imagination. The path Kavala carved, he soon discovered, was flat and smooth. There were no loose rocks to trip over and he realized his clumsy strides had been his own doing.
For the longest while he didn’t dare to disturb her concentration. He could sense her heat encompassing him, shielding him like a blanket. Somehow, not having to meet her eyes made it easier for him to speak freely.

“I was born in Sunberth,” he started. “My mother raised me there. As for my father, I don’t know where he is.” He squeezed her hand ever so slightly. “I don’t even know who he is. He abandoned my mother, that’s all I know, and he mustn’t have cared much for me either. For all I care he’s a drowned sailor. I’d rather not meet him.” A sigh parted his lips. “After my mother died, Harley took me in, but he lied.” No candlelight was needed to see a tendril of his former anger rise up again. “I was shipped to Kenash and sold for three hundred a thirty mizas to Jed Radacke, but I displeased him and so I was sold again and then I came here and was set free.”

No sooner than he’d finished light swept around them and blinded him. Coughing and brushing the brown moot from his eyes Timothy stumbled towards the exit. The presence of Cadra betrayed exactly where they were, not to mention the utensils and dried herbs hanging from the ceiling. Timothy’s hand slipped from Kavala's as his arms dropped to his side. A scent came wafting towards him. Was it baked pork, dripping with fat and juice? A low growl announced the beast in his belly.

"You look dashing." Aweston was leaning on the kitchen counter, ladling out a thick brown soup. It appeared the groom had adapted a horse-like instinct for where Kavala was.

Timothy looked himself over. His shirt and pants had gathered sand-brown filth and dust stains. A smudge marked the back of his hand after he'd swiped it over his nose. Brilliant, he groaned inwardly. He didn't mind getting dirty, but he didn't possess many other clothes and had a hunch he would have to do the washing.

"You too Kav," Aweston grinned, pointing his ladle at her "it takes a genius like you to insist on dressing in whites and being a geomancer," he clicked his tongue sarcastically.

Cadra had her light-brown-near-golden hair tied up in a bun as she sweated over a thick, deep pan, hanging low above red-hot embers. "Don't mind him," she said without looking up. "He's just jealous of your looks. Want some soup?"

All but forgetting that Kavala was even there, Timothy jogged forward and accepted the steaming bowl Cadra had poured for him. A quick thank-you was breathed before he sat down and attacked the beef stock with beast-like viciousness.

"You too Kavala?" Cadra offered.

[Kavala]

She raised an eyebrow at his questions. “Scales? Yes. I’m a Konti. The scars don’t hurt, no.” She said, though her tone was one that might have caused the boy to drop the subject because it was laced with ice. She’d explain the fifth element to him later. It was something that was more intuitive than scientific, but she was certain once he thought about it, then it would make more sense. A far different class was in session currently, and it had nothing to do with learning new elements. It had everything to do with learning a healthy respect for something that could kill you or nurture you. And to Kavala, the boy obviously had never been shown the nurturing side of any sort of magic.

And so she took him a non-traditional way to the Kitchen and did what any aspiring woman would do that wanted to win the heart of a boy. She fed him. Or she tried. Cadra beat him to it.

While Timothy started on the soup, Kavala made him a full plate. “He can start on that then we’ll fill up the hollow pockets with these.” She said, working her way around gathering and fussing.

Timothy may or may not have missed the wrinkled nose look accompanied by the swat to the arm she gave her cousin Aweton. “If someone would stop slicing up all my brown leathers trying to delimb me in training, I’d have more than the cream to wear.” She countered, pretending to guard her arms and legs before moving on. Cadra received a hug and a polite decline for the soup. Kavala would get herself something to eat after she made sure Timothy had a heaping pile of whatever was around in front of him.

There was a steel box that held a slowly melting block of ice. She opened it, and gestured inside. “Magic. Freeze the water, let it slowly melt, keep it contained and insulated, and you keep your food cold and from spoiling a far greater length of time than you could if you kept it out in the open. Its called an Ice Box.” She explained, then pulled forth three overstuffed meat pies. She stirred up the coals in the fire, got the hearth roaring, and put the pies on a tin tray that would hold the heat well and placed them back in the oven where the still-warm bricks (and growing warmer from the fire) would heat them up to just about fresh from the oven status.

Then she cut him pieces of cheese, sliced an apple, and added a couple of cookies to the plate. He was small, but she bet he could pack away the food. “You can start on this while your pies heat up. They are baked slices of beef wrapped in a bread that puffs up. They are delicious and even have a bit of cheese in them. But they are better warm than cold.” She said as she pulled a horn mug from the cupboard and filled it with the cold water from the wellhead perched over the sink. She pumped until it was ice cold then set it down beside Timothy where he was still eating his soup.

“The Kitchen is fair game anytime you are hungry. However, if Cadra has something on her shelf in the icebox its because she’s gathered it for a special dinner or meal she’s planning and you can’t snack from it. But things on the counter like bread and cookies, leftovers in the ice box like the meat rolls… all are fair game. If you are hungry, eat. We have plenty of food just for that reason." The konti added.

When she finally settled she found herself munching on dried seaweed. It was one of her favorite snacks. And it always set about to sooth her nerves or an upset stomach. In this case it was nerves. Kavala was trying very hard not to get mad at what Timothy had said… someone had took him in, treated him poorly and sold him into slavery. She looked down at her hands, then met his gaze and shook her head.

“I’m sorry for what happened to you Timothy. If it makes you feel better, we like killing slavers around here and have done that quite a bit.” She added, looking thoughtful. “Cadra and Larik were slaves once, and I have had some experience with not owning my own life myself. We don’t much like the practice around here. Is that Harley man still alive? I won’t travel to Sunberth, but if he ever shows his face around here…..” She shook her head, angry, and took another bite of the seaweed.

Aweston frowned and found himself suddenly busy with something. He’d helped on more than one raid The Sanctuary had pulled off, but he’d never been on the receiving end of a whip his entire life. Cadra simply looked sad. She reached over and touched Timothy’s head gently, stroking his hair for a moment before she slipped backwards, giving him some space.