Welcome to Gaia! ::

Thanks. ^^ This is just what I needed.

The spelling errors are just because I typed it in the box; I fixed most of them already. As for semicolons, dashes, and ellipses, I love them! They're great! heart I'll take a look at it, see if you're right and it'll work better...my style is full of them. ^^

And as for the:

All she could see was a thick golden edge on the bright blue sky--pretty, certainly, but she had no time for it today.

Well, why use a flowery adjective when a simple one would do? What's wrong with bright and pretty?

4laugh

Thank you thank you! mrgreen I'm sure the twins love you right back.

...Kamile, at least. sweatdrop

I'm not trying to be offensive, or hostile towrads your writing. I'm not that kind of person at all. It really irritates me when people just harp on one's writing just for the sake of being mean. I'm just looking at this from an experianced point of view.

One assumes that windows are glass. You don't need that word glass. It just makes things redundant.





I don't know why you use two dashes. Even if it is just your "style," it's not necessary.


One, I think you mean "shied"
Two, you really use dashes where they don't need to go.

I know you're just trying to use different synonyms for things, but it honestly sounds like you're just going into Word, and picking out the first intelligent sounding words you can find.


Do not begin things with "and."



Did you mean "say?"



Maybe you should try another word besides Phial. Maybe you could describe what it looks like, rather than repeatedly using it's name.




How does one grasp anything tightly if one has no power or strength left on them? Also I think you me "thought hard..."





Blackish purple?
That word sound very immature in comparison to the rest of your descriptions.

Way too much repetition of words, and colors.

How can you identify something that's inaudible?
"Lieutenant?"

Hartel snapped to attention, saluting and blinking hard to clear her head. "Yes, Your Majesty?"


You use the word eyes too much.

While your descriptions remain "pretty," they drag on needlessly, and are quite ranting and draining.Also, despite what you may think, you're still using ellipses wrong. Your style or not, it's still wrong. If you clean up those things, it is quite the descriptive, enticing section. Sorry if I sounded mean at all- I'm kind of irritated with things, so these are not by any account attacks on you or your writing. I actually am kind of interested in your work. <3 good job.

heart

That word among others. I don't know, they just don't sound well placed, but it's not a big deal.
And I understand about the dashes now, hehe, I was just wondering.
Your story really is very good looking past some slight grammar mistakes. I like how you introduce characters and give them all these completely different personalities.

heart

KIRBY, I HATE YOU FOR PUTTING UP A NEW CHAPTER WHEN I CAN'T READ IT! scream


I'll get over it.

OKay, I won'.t sweatdrop


Typing fast. I'm supposed to be getting a newspaper. Can't be gone long.

Luci is pronounced "Luchi."

I hate New Kocha.

Chapter Sixteen

The square was close to pristine—never had it been so clean and neat. Sure, the long buildings on each side of the street were still half-finished, and the Great Tree threw a skeletal shadow over them all, but the stones had been renewed and scrubbed clean, the streets were straight lines, and the many stalls, newly erected, were lined up on either side, no longer spread out where they pleased…the entire place was organized, clean, and new.

Kamilé stared at it, confused and frustrated…must everything change? Why couldn’t anything stay the same? Why did they have to ruin the place that had once been her home…? She remembered, vaguely, sleeping here sometimes, when it was hot…she and Everan would curl up behind stalls or in somebody’s garden and watch the stars…the houses had been made of stone as they were now, but they were tiny, crowded, huddled together or spread apart at odd angles…the streets were cobbled and winding…the stalls were in the middle of the road at times…it had been almost comforting, all the clutter, it was unpredictable…unassuming….

There were few people around, but enough for Marli to be nervous…she held Kamilé’s hand tightly, keeping to the edge of the road, in the shadows. Some of the elves (and humans, too, come to help rebuild the city) gave her strange looks, but none confronted her.

As they went, Marli whispered news to Kamilé: the dead had been buried, there were still two missing elves, many elves and humans, mostly children, had been planting seeds and saplings around the square, and the Great Tree was being looked after by all of the best tree healers in the country. She explained that the long buildings stretched the length of the street, but were only one room wide; dividing walls would separate the buildings into many rooms, which would be used as shops. The buildings also had two floors, the second of which would be divided into separate apartments, where the store owners could live. The Elders had a building all to themselves, at the northernmost end of the square. Each separate shop and house had a number, to make it easier to find….

Kamilé listened with detached disgust…elves didn’t need to be so organized, that was for humans. Why couldn’t everyone just do everything as they pleased, like before? Why did these buildings have to tower over everyone, why couldn’t they just leave well enough alone?

No one spared a glance for Kamilé, either…people gave her one slightly sympathetic look, and then walked on. Her injuries did not make her conspicuous; almost everyone was sporting a sling, cast, or bandage, and cuts or burns to some degree. Amazingly, no one seemed to recognize her…perhaps it was her clothes, or her hair, or maybe her wounds were covered so well that they didn’t think anything of her. She was thankful that they didn’t attack her, or anything like that, but she wished she didn’t have to be here…it was too loud, too bright, and she was unimaginably tired. She stumbled along behind Marli without a word, keeping her head down.

Marli suddenly stopped. “Get behind me, Kamilé,” she said quietly. Before she could work out what Marli had said, she suddenly found herself pushed into a shadow. Marli’s eyes followed a tall, anxious-looking woman with red-blonde hair, who was ushering two children along: a small girl of about seven, wrapped in a blanket, a red scarf around her neck, and the boy from earlier, Vix. People in the street gave them a wide berth, eyeing the red scarf, and she clearly noticed this; too tired to be upset, she merely looked wearily depressed and very lonely indeed. Vix held her hand, but then she opened her mouth to sneeze and he quickly jerked it out and backed away.

Kamilé thought suddenly that if that was her, she would cry. The girl seemed vaguely apologetic, but too tired to do anything about it. It was deeply disturbing, the way people looked at her and treated her—even as they watched, a man went up to their mother and started shouting at her for bringing her outside. She flared up at once, tired and careworn, and Vix, looking furious, set his sister gently on the ground against a blank stretch of wall and rushed to help. The girl curled up and hid her face, seeming to fall asleep with her head on her knees.

Kamilé gave Marli a look, asking for explanation.

“Vix’s sister has the red plague,” she said softly. “She’s had it for such a long time, poor girl.”

Kamilé frowned, trying to remember—the red plague had seemed like such a grown-up thing to worry about, an eternity ago. She didn’t know much about it at all.

“What’s…?”

“It’s a blood disease. No one knows how it started, it was a few years ago. When you have it, it makes the cells in your blood expand and change consistency—your blood becomes thicker, and it can’t flow as easily. Eventually it stops flowing at all. It makes you very, very tired, and there’s really nothing anyone can do to help. It’s also highly contagious; if any sort of liquid—tears, sweat, blood—soaks into another person’s skin, there’s a very slim chance they won’t get it. That’s why she’s wearing that scarf, so people will know not to touch her.”

It seemed awful to Kamilé…being tired all the time, feeling awful, knowing death was imminent, and dealing with people that seemed to hate everything about you….

“Is…is she…?”

Marli made a soft noise between a sigh and a scoff. “It’s the red plague,” she said quietly. “What d’you think?”

The sounds of fighting rose to a fever pitch, and Kamilé wanted to cover her ears and run away from the sound—she saw that the girl seemed to feel the same way. A sudden, gently tugging impulse took over her, and she slipped away from Marli’s side, heading for the girl.

“Kamilé—!” Marli cried after her, but seemed too afraid herself to be so close to the girl. Kamilé stepped lightly over to the girl and sat down beside her, barely a foot away. There was a moment’s silence between them, in which the girl looked at her, her eyes half-open and glazed, and seemed to be building the strength to speak.

“You shouldn’t…be so close.” Her voice was very small and rather hoarse, and as she spoke, she showed Kamilé the end of the red scarf.

“I know,” Kamilé said, her voice just the same. “I don’t care.”

Again, the girl had to gather strength before she could speak. “Why?”

Kamilé shrugged—it hurt her left arm, and she winced. “What’s your name?” she asked.

“L-…Luci.”

“I’m Kamilé.”

Luci gave a tiny nod, to indicate a formal greeting.

“Do you feel all right?” Kamilé asked her quietly, knowing the answer already. To her amazement, Luci’s eyes filled with tears, and she immediately hid her face in her blanket so they would not fall on Kamilé.

“N-…no….” Her voice was muffled by the thick blanket. “It hurts…all the t-time…and it’s always s-so cold…but I don’t…wanna worry….”

Her eyes uncovered and looked to her mother and brother, and then her face was gone again. It sounded as if she had needed to pour all of this out, somehow, like draining poison from a wound.

“And Dad…and Rh-Rhoen…’re gone…and….”

But then Luci froze; Kamilé had laid her right hand gently on her back, and was now moving it in a small circle, like Everan had used to do when she was sick.

“D-…Don’t!” Luci said urgently, too weak to pull away. “You’ll get sick….”

“No I won’t.” Kamilé felt certain of this as she continued the motion, around and around…it wasn’t very helpful physically, but it had always made her feel much better….

Luci’s eyes appeared again, and they roved over Kamilé’s face, arms, and legs. “You’re hurt too….”

Kamilé had no wish to tell her where the most recent bruises had come from—it seemed unnaturally spiteful. “Uh-huh.” She took her hand back but edged closer, so that their shoulders were touching. “My brother’s gone too,” she whispered, resting her head on her knees as well. They were so close now that Kamilé could feel Luci’s breath—realizing this, the smaller girl covered her mouth and nose again. “My twin brother.”

Luci’s eyes, still tear-filled, widened. “You had a…twin?” It was as if she had pronounced the idea of a second personality or a pet that spoke Ametrisan. Something unknown and strange, but mysterious and rare and in some ways, coveted. Kamilé nodded, her eyes suddenly filling with tears of their own.

“I never seen a…twin…before….”

Kamilé was too full of sadness to tell her what it was like; she wrestled with her tears for a moment, unable to speak.

“I miss him.”

Luci nodded, a little twitch from side to side that shook her entire body. “Rh-…Rhoen n-never cared…that I was sick…he…he played with me all th’ time…but Vix…is….”

Kamilé wondered vaguely if her brother was too preoccupied with revenge and grief to care for his sister, or if he was afraid to be near her. One was as horrible as the other.

“I don’t have anyone else,” she whispered. “He was all I had.”

Both of them were crying—for a few wondrous minutes they had connected, each pouring out a bit of herself into the other. It was not like talking with Everan at all—they had been connected as well, but on a deep, intricate level that was irreplaceable. But it was different than talking to anyone else. They were not complaining to each other, being petty or selfish or pessimistic. They were seeking to understand one another, and all the happenings they were intertwined in.

Sensing this mutual understanding, stronger than she had ever felt with anyone aside from Everan, Kamilé rested her head on Luci’s shoulder, just for a moment. Luci was crying harder than ever, and this broke through the last of the barrier between them, fear of closeness and the awful, draining sickness; she laid her head on Kamilé’s shoulder and cried helplessly, seeking small comfort in the warm presence of the other, older girl. Kamilé let her, not minding in the slightest. The girl’s tiny, quivering body was unnaturally warm, heated by high fevers and the hot sun, and her presence somehow seemed to thaw the ice in Kamilé’s veins, warm the coldness inside of her—just a little.

“I’m gonna die,” Luci sobbed, “I know it…I heared ‘em talking…I’m gonna die….”

“No you’re not,” Kamilé told her firmly, sniffing hard. “You’re not gonna die.”

“The healer said…I heared ‘im…they thought I was sleeping….”

“They’re wrong. Grown-ups are stupid. You can’t say anything about stuff before it happens,” she said stubbornly.

Luci quieted for a moment, thinking about this. “R-…really?”

“Yeah. You’re not gonna die.”

She had no idea what made her say it with such absolute conviction, but she said it all the same. She had made it sound true, whether it was or not. Luci stared wide-eyed into space, hardly able to believe it.

“Oh…oh, wow,” she whispered. “It’ll go away…won’t it go away, Ka—?”

But then Luci suddenly drew back, staring in horror at a drop of water sliding down Kamilé’s arm.

“Oh…I’m sorry!” she whispered, her expression terrified and full of guilt. “I’m so sorry!”

Kamilé stared at it, her head cocked to one side, and then realized that it was one of Luci’s tears, which were, according to Marli, contagious. She scooped the tear onto her finger and wiped it on her shirt, unfazed.

“It’s okay,” she said simply. Luci met her eyes fearfully, seeming truly worried that Kamilé would be sick and eventually die the death that she herself was sentenced to, or had been moments before. Kamilé couldn’t remember very many people caring about her so much, and that quickly.

“I…I don’t…p-please don’t get sick!” Luci begged her. “It’ll be all my fault….”

“I feel cold too,” Kamilé told her quietly, ignoring her distress. “And it hurts. It feels like I’m gonna die, it hurts so much.”

“Oh—no, I….” Luci apparently believed that her disease had spread in those few seconds and could not speak, could only stare wide-eyed at Kamilé. By her demeanor, it seemed as if she had grabbed a knife and run Kamilé through.

“’Cause my brother’s gone,” Kamilé continued, her voice as quiet as before, and tears filled her eyes again. “A-And he’s not coming ba—”

“HEY! Get away from my sister!”

Kamilé started, and Luci attempted to do so, as Vix pulled himself from the now-violent argument, running towards her with death in his eyes.

“Oh no,” Luci whispered fearfully. “Vix, don’t….”

“I said get away, you—!”

Shaking his head, too furious for words, Vix reached to the back of his belt and drew a dagger with a rasp of metal on metal. He pointed it at her, wild-eyed, preparing to strike.

With one last apologetic look at Luci, Kamilé jumped to her feet and bolted. Vix shouted something after her as she turned the first corner she saw, pressing breathlessly against the wall. She was close enough to hear them—the crowd had fallen silent, confused, and if she strained her ears she could hear their voices….

“Vix, no…!”

“Luci, are you all right?” he asked her urgently, ignoring her words.

“She was just…just talking to me,” Luci told him, sounding close to tears. “Just talking….”

“What did she say?” he demanded. “Luci, don’t you believe it, don’t you even think about anything she said, she was wrong, all of it!”

Luci was truly crying now. “Sh-she said…I’m not gonna die, Vix,” she told him, sounding angry underneath a trace of despairing fear. “Was she wrong about that too?”

Vix did not speak for several moments. Finally, he murmured something soft to Luci, and his voice grew more distant as they went away.



When Marli finally found her, she was curled up on the ground in the narrow little alley, still crying; the wound had opened anew, and pain spread through her body in horrible sickening waves, having been brought to reality for those few minutes. Everan was dead, and he wasn’t coming back…the girl’s pain might relent someday, but hers never would.

It brought a fresh wave of pain across her frozen, severed heart to think about him, and she shuddered, fighting to get it under control…and then it faded, and her mind was covered in a light, wonderfully soft mist like it had been before she had seen Luci. In fact, she found it difficult to remember the tiny girl at all…or much else…why did her chest ache so much?

It was in this condition that Marli found her, back to the way she had been earlier, if not even more distant and oblivious to her surroundings. Marli seemed hesitant to touch her, but her attitude towards Kamilé was no less kind or soft.

“Are you okay, sweetie? Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head, her burns scratching against the rough stone, possessing no clue as to whom she meant.

“Are you…are you feeling sick, Kamilé…?” Marli sounded nervous, afraid. Kamilé shook her head again, feeling a little annoyed for some reason.

Marli was silent for a moment, but finally, she choked, “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t be afraid of her…. It’s just…it was only a few years ago since…since my country cured the red plague….” She shuddered. “It was awful, and you can’t cure it here…but you’re right, that’s no reason to….”

They were silent for a long time. Kamilé felt as if someone was scraping something rough over her wounds, which smarted and burned and froze her heart in a solid blanket of ice.

Finally, Marli broke the silence.

“You hungry, Kamilé?” she inquired, smiling slightly.

Kamilé stared at her. She shrugged.

“So….”

She offered her hand, which Kamilé stared at for a moment before her teacher took her hand anyway. Marli pulled her up smoothly, but the movement still jolted her wounds. They walked out into the sunlight.

“Must be a food stall around here somewhere,” Marli muttered. “Aha….”

She pointed to a stall emanating a sweet, delicious smell, smiling down at Kamilé. “Don’t worry, you’ll like it, I promise. But you can’t stay out here,” she added anxiously; some people passing were giving Kamilé odd looks, recognizing her from the commotion a few minutes ago. “There has to be somewhere….”

She looked around, still holding Kamilé’s hand tightly, and then she said, “There!” and led Kamilé over to a building across the street. A small section of the wall had caved in, and though the ground was swept clean, it was still eerie to see the huge black space within.

“Mortar must’ve gotten wet. Stay right here,” she said firmly, positioning Kamilé inside the gap, all the way over to the end. Shadows fell across them, but Kamilé could still see and be seen from the street. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

And then she disappeared into the crowd, heading for the source of the sweet smell. Kamilé was left alone, shrouded in darkness; she sat down, staring at her legs. She wanted to leave…this dark place was frightening, too big, too dark, too quiet, but the square was just as horrible in the opposite.

Marli was gone…she could just run away, get out of here…but she didn’t think she could make it far. Her chest ached, and a twisting pain crawled up her stomach; her legs were throbbing as well. She had never wanted to move in the first place. It hurt too much….

Besides, she thought miserably, where was there to go—?

Her forlorn thoughts were cut short by a soft, careful voice.

“Hello, Kamilé.”

She looked up—straight into the eyes of Elder Srai.

Her scream of terror was stifled immediately by the slim, long-nailed hand, while another hand grabbed her forearm and pulled her up. She struggled, but her arm shot fire through her veins, and it was hard to focus…she felt herself being dragged into the darkness….

Then her back smacked the wall as the hands pushed her to the ground, one still firmly over her mouth.

“I’m going to move my hand,” Srai breathed, “and you are going to be very quiet, do you understand?”

Kamilé whimpered.

“I said, do you understand?”

It took her a minute to sort out the words in the angry tone, but she finally did. She tried to nod; Srai was satisfied, and released her. Trembling, Kamilé hid her face in her knees, biting back one scream after another.

“You’ve got nerve, coming back,” Srai said softly, crouching down until they were somewhat level. “Who bandaged you up?”

Kamilé said nothing. Aggravated by her silence, Srai’s voice never rose in volume, but intensified violently all the same.

“I said who, girl?”

She whimpered again, forgetting how to speak. Srai took several deep breaths, calming herself, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer.

“I’m going to ask you very simple questions, and you are going to nod or shake your head, and you will tell the truth or suffer the consequences. Do you understand me?”

Kamilé nodded, never looking up, though admittedly, she didn’t understand all of it.

“Did you start the fire?”

Fire, what was a fire…?

“Answer me, girl,” Srai hissed, and her strong hand clenched over Kamilé’s forearm. Kamilé whimpered again, faster and louder, too afraid to scream.

“Answer me!”

“I dunno,” she moaned, completely unaware of what she was saying. “I dunno stop please stop—”

“Were you there when it started?”

“I…I dunno!”

“Did you see who did it?”

“Ow stop I dunno let go please stop!”

Srai’s hand fell away, but then cupped under her chin and lifted her face up, bringing them eye to eye. Kamilé remembered a tall woman with frightening eyes, and knew the demon woman was right in front of her.

“Tell me everything you know, girl,” she whispered, “or you will be very sorry indeed.”

Kamilé believed her with every fragment of her heart, but she didn’t know what she was talking about…she felt herself shaking hard—what if she didn’t answer? What if the demon woman hurt her? Everan, please come save me….

“Well, girl?” Srai said harshly, her face only inches away. Kamilé moaned in pain as her hand tightened, stretching the burn on her face. Her own hand reached up unconsciously to push it away; Srai let go of her face but grabbed her wrist and held it tight.

Kamilé couldn’t help it—she screamed. Srai’s hand immediately cut it off, and Kamilé felt the woman’s pulse against her lips—fast, raging, recklessly pouring through her veins.

“KAMILÉ!”

Two voices shouted this at once, and suddenly Srai’s hands fell away. Kamilé moaned and curled up in a ball as Srai rose to her feet, turning her imperious gaze to Marli, who stood in the light, carrying two large leaves filled with fruit.

“Professor,” Srai said.

“Leave her alone, Srai,” Marli replied, so furious that a strawberry fell from her shaking hands. “She didn’t do anything.”

“Oh, really?” Srai said, politely bemused. “And you know this for a fact?”

“Yes!” Marli said defiantly.

“How, did she tell you?”

Marli glared, keeping silent. Srai scoffed, but was spared answering because—

Kamilé couldn’t help it: she tried to run. She knew it was a stupid idea from the start but the fear was building up in her, suffocating her, and she could not merely stand there…if she had stayed still she would have started screaming….

Srai grabbed her before she’d gone three feet. “Leaving so soon?” she said coldly, keeping a firm grip on Kamilé’s upper arm as she twisted and whimpered in fear.

“Lemme go let go let go Everan help I wanna go home—”

“Let her go!” Marli said furiously, dropping everything and diving forward. She snatched Kamilé from Srai’s grip, holding her tightly against her chest. Kamilé buried her face in her shirt and started to cry. “She didn’t do anything to you or anyone!”

“Well, then, Marli, can you tell me who did start the fire?”

Marli opened her mouth for an angry retort, thought about it, and then smirked. “Look.” She rifled through her bag, finally slipping out a messy drawing and shoving it in Srai’s face.

Srai gave a nasty laugh. “Drew an illustration, did she?”

“No, she can’t even remember drawing it, and that makes it even more likely…. Srai, I’m not telling you that whoever this is started the fire but I know they attacked Kamilé and probably killed her brother—” Kamilé let out a wail of despair—“And you should be worrying about a maniac like that just as much as you should be worrying about an arsonist, and I think they’re much more dangerous than a wounded eleven-year-old—”

“Oh, she was attacked, was she?” Srai repeated, her voice wholly unconcerned. “You mean all those bruises, did the big mean lady beat her up?”

Marli glared at her sarcastically childish tone. “No. She threw a burning branch at her.”

Srai snorted. “And it didn’t merely fall, did it? Oh no, it had to be thrown….”

“It was thrown,” Marli said firmly, annoyed. “Do you know what magic is, Srai?”

“Hah!’ Srai scoffed. “Magic? It’s just a fireside tale, no one can really use it….”

“You’re wrong, Srai. Merpeople use magic to walk on the land like humans. Everything from weeds and insects to the Great Tree and all the mortals uses magic to keep living. Just because Ametrisans forgot how to use it doesn’t mean that if they tried they couldn’t.”

“But magic is just…a gift from the gods…no one can really use it, that would make them like gods themselves….”

“Wrong again.” Marli held up the first finger and thumb of her right hand and pressed them together, and a few pure white sparks threw back the gloom, shining with a sacred light. Srai stared at it, wide-eyed. “I can do magic because my people didn’t forget. Carn’s daughter could do magic, too, and not just because she was a chosen. My entire family could do it, my neighbors, my enemies…magic may be harder to do here, but it isn’t a myth.”

The sparks faded, and the darkness crept back in, hugging close to them, more sinister than ever. The light that drifted in was feeble, forlorn, missing the white magic terribly.

“You can always tell when there’s magic present. That’s what you feel whenever you hold the Heart of Ametris, or come near it—when you’re not used to it, it’s overwhelming, as it’s a very powerful object. You can feel it in the forest since you’re an elf, you can feel it in the Great Tree no matter what you are. Kamilé had a huge tree branch on her, and when we pulled it off, I felt magic on it. Dark magic.”

“It might have been her own,” Srai snarled, angry at the mention of Kamilé’s name, “the magic she used to start the fire. So many people saw her do it, Marli….”

“Kamilé can’t do magic,” Marli snorted. “Especially dark magic. If you can do dark magic then you’re able to do black magic—” just the word made all three present shudder in the darkness—“and to do that you’d have to give your soul completely to hell and darkness and the destruction of the world. Imagine an evil so powerful that a small bit of it, driven into any part of your body, can make you die a long, painful death, and the only way I could cure it with white magic would be to pour out as much as there is blood in my body. Only a very powerful white magi can defeat darkness, it would kill me and no doubt be insufficient to save the person in the end.”

Srai shuddered, apparently involuntarily.

“I’m pretty confident that Kamilé can’t do magic. It takes a certain concentration and perseverance very early in life to manage more than the basics. And white magic can’t hurt anything living, and as for dark magic—well, Kamilé’s hardly evil.”

They glanced at her for a moment, wide-eyed, innocent, and confused, holding Marli like a lifeline.

“And you say people saw her do it. What exactly did they see?”

“She was holding something,” Srai said, her eyes still wide. “And fire was coming out of it, and it hit the Tree…a few people said she was holding the Heart….”

“Ah, see there’s your problem.” Marli smiled triumphantly. “The Heart is what we call a conductor, an item made with pure magic that strengthens tenfold any other magic. No regular fire could have physically gotten that high, so it had to be magic, I’m sure of it. The Heart soaks it in and sends much more power back out; the magic was someone else’s, Kamilé merely pointed it the wrong way. The magi who tried to catch her on fire is the real culprit here.”

“But why on earth would she have the Heart? And why would a magi bother attacking her?”

“You just said it: she had the Heart. The Heart was made with pure white and pure black magic. Whether you are evil or good, it will have a very powerful attraction to you. If the magi who attacked her was dark—which she must have been, to attack a little kid—then she would have wanted its power for her own means, and if she felt it nearby she would have done anything to have it. Kamilé had it, or stole it back from her, and that’s why she was attacked. You should be praising her as a hero, Srai, not blaming her for everything wrong. She’s just a kid….”

Srai stared oddly at Marli, as if she’d never seen anything like her, contemplating everything she had been told. For a long time the two women watched each other, Srai more than a head taller but Marli very formidable herself. The memory of the white magic still lingered on the air, while the threatening darkness, the power of black magic, crowded in on them, suffocating them. Even Kamilé was silent, watching Srai. The whole world seemed to hold its breath.

Finally, she spoke, and her voice was brisk.

“A very interesting fireside tale, Marli, but I don’t have time for stories.”

“You’re unbelievable, you are,” Marli said indignantly. “You of all people should know these things without my help!”

“Hmm.” Srai knelt down, lowering herself to Kamilé’s level, looking directly into her eyes. “And as for you, saya Kamilé, I still am fully confident that you started the fire, and until proven otherwise, I suggest you stay out of my city. I’m giving you one last chance to stay out of my sight, is that clear?”

Kamilé hugged Marli even tighter, hiding her face. Srai straightened up, using the full power of her height to tower over Marli, physically and in matters of power.

“I don’t want to see her here again, Professor,” she said forcefully. “I suggest you stop helping her, before the two of you are banished.”

“You can’t do anything to me!” Marli said angrily. “You don’t have any control over me at all!”

“True, but your schoolhouse belongs to me, and I can take it away, give it to someone more capable, and then where will you be?”

“No, you can’t!” For the first time, traces of desperation crept into Marli’s voice. “That’s my home, you can’t take it from me, you can’t!”

“Actually, I can.” Srai’s eyes were as hard and cold as blue ice. Marli stared at her, lost for words, until finally she found her voice.

“Fine, you take your stupid house, I don’t care, I’ll live outside. And I know every one of the kids will still want me to teach them, and by the gods, I will do my best!”

She snatched up the rather dusty fruit from the ground, took Kamilé’s hand, and stalked out of the half-finished building, leaving Srai in the dark.



“That woman,” Marli said furiously, “is absolutely the most foul stubborn unbelievable woman in the entire country of Ametris!”

“Yes, well,” Kayle said sympathetically, “you did very well, Marli, but not everyone is so inclined to believe your crazy stuff about magic and all the rest.”

Kayle, Marli, and Kamilé sat on a root of the Great Tree, sharing dinner in the light of the fading sun. Marli had salvaged what she could of the ruined fruit, and Kayle had gallantly taken these, washed them, and bought the girls two more. Theirs were drizzled in honey and chocolate and sugar-glazed, which he insisted he had never liked anyway, and was glad to scrub it off.

“And Kayle, she’s so tall, it isn’t fair!”

Kayle laughed. “It is kind of impressive,” he admitted. “And completely unfair,” he added, as Marli glared at him. “But she doesn’t know all that you know, she can’t do magic or anything.”

“And it’s so hard here,” she said, staring at her fingers. “Even a few sparks for just a moment wore me out, why is it so hard?”

“Well, if it was easy, everyone could do it,” Kayle said simply around a mouthful of strawberry and peach.

“Kamilé, sweetie, eat your fruit,” Marli told her. Kamilé swung her legs absently, staring at the leaf full of fruit in her lap. At Marli’s persuasion, she picked a grape up and nibbled at it. Satisfied, Marli turned back to Kayle.

“And then, Elder Carn appears out of nowhere—‘Srai doesn’t like to be wrong, she’s a very clever politician you see, she tells people what they want to hear and if she gives them something unbelievable the city will be out of control blah blah blah’—And then he just disappears, ‘I’ll do my best to convince her, Marli, but it won’t be easy, keep trying’, and what the hell was that all about?”

“He’s got a point. If Srai started spouting fireside tales no one would believe her, they think she’s gone senile, and she knows we need her right now.”

“You know, she is pretty old…what, like thirty…five…?”

“That isn’t old, Marli, Carn’s sixty-two!”

“Gods above, no one lives past twenty-seven in my country….”

“Well that’s because you’re all killing each other, isn’t it?”

“True…. Kayle, I just don’t know what to do, she didn’t try to murder Kamilé or anything, she gave her another chance, but Kamilé’s got to stay with us or she’ll die, we have to take care of her….”

“She can’t stay with me, Marli, every bit of the library’s being used until everyone’s healed, she’ll have to stay with you until—”

“That’s it!” Marli said, and both Kayle and Kamilé started. “Pilori, Kayle, she must be much better by now, we forgot all about her, we’ve gotta go see her! I bet she can help, and anyway, Kamilé would love to see her, wouldn’t you, K—for the gods’ sakes, Kamilé, will you please eat your food!”

Kamilé didn’t want to eat it. Even the smell of the sweet fruit made her stomach roil and contract in protest. The thought of eating it made her feel sick, but she didn’t know how she could possibly explain this to Marli. She did not want to eat…half of her stomach was gone as well, and Everan had never liked sweets….

“Oh, here,” Marli said impatiently. She took a wooden stick folded in Kamilé’s leaf and stabbed six or seven fruits, handing the stick to Kamilé. “I want you to eat every single bit of that, no arguing, and when you’re done I’ll treat you to something special, all right? All right.”

And then she turned back to Kayle, deep in discussion.

Kamilé felt like crying; the last thing she wanted to do was force herself to eat even one of these. But Marli had saved her, and she didn’t want to be yelled at…she knew that she had to…. Tears gathering in her eyes, knowing she was going to be sick later, Kamilé forced down two grapes and a piece of apple. By the time she’d finished everything, she was crying.

“What’s wrong, Kamilé?” Marli asked her, concerned. “Hey, don’t cry….” She gently stroked her hair, smiling gently down at her. “Now you’ve eaten and everything, I’ll give you a treat…c’mon, sweetie….”

She helped Kamilé balance along the root and hop down onto the library’s newly built walkway, which still had yet to be completed. Kayle followed and unlocked the door for them, and they entered the cool solace of the library. Marli led her through a door in the corner, up some stairs, and into the dark storeroom; two bright lanterns lit the doorway, and they followed the corridor left, left again, and to the right.

“Can we see Pilori Iranai, please?” Kayle asked the Healer quietly, who nodded distractedly as she rummaged for more blankets. Marli pushed Kamilé gently towards the door.

“You go first, sweetie, we’ll wait out here, go on.”

Confused, Kamilé drifted into the room, closing the door behind her.

The room was very long and wide, and had four rows of beds along it, two against the wall and two back to back. The beds were a pristine white, and glowing lanterns hung from the ceiling, but nothing could suppress the gloom emitted by the inhabitants. Every bed had someone on it, some sitting up and staring, some sleeping, some deeply unconscious. Every one of them that was awake stared at Kamilé as she walked in, but did nothing; incapacitated, ignorant of the news since they were injured, they did not know who she was, or who she was thought to be. Kamilé drifted down the aisles, wanting to run, the sight of blood and bandages and burns making her feel sicker than ever. This was not a place of healing…it was a place of death.

But then someone familiar lit up the room like a ray of sunshine; though she was pale and her eyes were closed, Kamilé felt a happy, hopeful bubble rise within her at the sight of the welcoming figure.

“Pilori!” she cried, running over to her. Pilori stirred and opened her eyes, then, seeing who it was, gave a sleepy start of pleased surprise.

“Kamilé, baby,” she whispered as she hugged her awkwardly from her horizontal position. “I was so worried…I’m so glad you’re all right….”

It was so dark in here that Pilori could only see the bandages on her arms, not the burns or the bruises on her face and legs. Pilori hugged her for a long time, and she hugged back, soft, vague memories of the woman floating back to her…Pilori giving them a bath, putting them to bed, making them dinner that smelled burnt and was pitch-black, teaching Everan to write….

“Come here, baby,” she said, sitting up with difficulty and patting the bed beside her. Kamilé perched on the edge, accepting another hug. “You look so much better, did Marli fix your arms, sweetie?”

Kamilé nodded, still finding it difficult to understand; she only picked up every other word. It was like the pain of losing her other half was a quick, loud throbbing, deafening her to anything else.

Pilori folded Kamilé into her arms, and she felt tears in her hair. “Baby, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, starting to cry in earnest. “I loved him so much…I know you did too….”

Kamilé felt her heart sink as she realized who Pilori was talking about. A burst of anger filled her at the word “love,” but she had no idea why. She hated that word, simply despised it….

“And…and I just…I hope he’s not mad at me, wherever he is….” Pilori was sobbing now. “I…I kn-know I was stupid…he was r-right, I shouldn’t have left you both…m-maybe if I hadn’t….”

But she was crying too hard to speak now, and merely held Kamilé close, rocking gently back and forth with the force of her sobs. Kamilé felt her grief, only much, much stronger…so strong that even thinking his name caused her pain, so strong that she could barely breathe…she couldn’t see, couldn’t focus…the room was spinning…her grief was beyond tears, yet they fell regardless….

“B-But I’ve got you now,” Pilori choked, having now found her voice. “I’ve got you, I won’t let anything happen to you…baby, do they still think you did it? Started the fire?”

Kamilé didn’t quite understand, but shook her head regardless, her tears falling on the bandage that wound around Pilori’s entire torso.

“I knew it…I knew they’d see reason….” She swayed from side to side, holding Kamilé close like she used to do when she was little. “I’ll be healed in another couple of weeks, Kamilé, and then you’ll see…then I’ll make everything better…we’ll go somewhere new, I know you’ll like Merista, it’s so big….”

She sighed, glancing towards her nightstand, where a small bunch of wilted flowers lay in a glass vase. “I wanted to give them to Everan…I wanted to put them on his grave, Kamilé, but they’re dying, and I can’t move…sweetie, can you do it for me?”

Kamilé said nothing; she had only caught three words, and they had such an awful significance that she was petrified, frozen to the spot.

Everan…grave…dying….

Her tears froze in the ice that crept through her veins, making tiny frozen tracks across her cheeks. She started to shiver, and Pilori felt it and covered her with her blanket, but it did nothing to dispel the chill.
“It’s okay, baby…it’ll be all right, I promise…I know you miss him, but you can’t grieve forever, baby, he wouldn’t want you to…you have so much left to do…don’t let this stop you, sweetie, or anything else….”
Kamilé was still crying as hard as ever, though her tears froze her eyes and her cheeks and her heart and made the room spin as it darkened and grew icy cold….

“Baby, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you...I want to make it up to you, sweetie…. You’ll see, when we’re both all better we’ll be happy again….”

Happy? Happy? She barely knew the meaning of the word…it did not exist, it went away with Everan….

“I love you, Kamilé, I always will, don’t ever—AUUUGH!”

There was a deafening crash, like a window shattering, and Kamilé and the blanket fell to the floor; tangled in it, she writhed and thrashed and tiny pieces of something hard bounced off the blanket and something poked her forehead and she was soaking wet and the floor was covered in something slimy—a voice was screaming, “GET OUT! It’s because of YOU that these people are hurt, how DARE you show your face in here, GET OUT OF HERE YOU—!”

Pilori was screaming something, but Kamilé could not hear it; she continued to struggle and tear at the blanket, something else crashed and Pilori screamed again, in fear or pain, and then Kamilé was free, and she was running, and a furious shouting woman tried to grab her but missed, and she crashed into a door and wrenched it open and more people shouted her name but she kept running….she ran down stairs and down more stairs and more people called her but she didn’t stop until she had wrenched open the door and was outside, in the cool twilit air….

She stopped and fell to her knees, gulping in mouthfuls of air, unable to focus…the world was spinning, her entire body was throbbing…. Her stomach heaved, and all the light left the world; it heaved again, and she tried to breathe but could not… when it heaved a final time she gave in and let the choking bile leave her, crying and shivering as she emptied her stomach onto the ground. The feeling suffocated her, long after everything was gone, and when she tried to breathe her throat was closed…her stomach heaved again, but there was nothing left….

She fell backwards, curling up on the ground, her tear-drenched face pressed against the dirt. She could not stop crying, and the sobs shook her entire body, and even when the awful sick feeling was gone and only the foul taste remained she still could not breathe…she gasped for air but none came…her senses were fading into the suffocating darkness….

And then she emerged, like awaking from a heavy sleep, and someone was calling her name. She didn’t care; she lay there, her heart racing madly, tears pouring down her cheeks as she thought of Everan, if he could still breathe, if he still needed to….

“Kamilé! Kamilé, where are you? Please answer, Kamilé! Kamilé!”

She opened her eyes, and the darkness faded slightly into a new kind of darkness, moonlit and starlit and soft and warm. She saw something odd, and for a moment she had no idea what it was. But then she realized; it was a flower, covered in something slimy and white, glass shards sticking to it like thorns, the petals brown-edged and wilting.

Flowers…white flowers with pink edges…like the one Everan had given her on her birthday…she felt absently at her braided hair, but it was gone. He hated flowers, he had once told her…because he was a boy…and yet he knew so much about them…. Did he still hate them, even now? Was he capable of hating anything where he was?

Was he anywhere at all?

“Kamilé! Please!”

The noise hurt her aching head, and she fell out of her train of thought, her eyes finding the flower again. What was it for…? Everan…grave…dying….

The flower was dying. It would be like Everan soon. Maybe he wouldn’t mind flowers so much now…it seemed right to put the dead with the dead….

She sat up, wincing at the throbbing pain in her stomach, and took the flower from the ground. It stabbed her with its sharp little glass thorns, but she took no notice. She rose shakily to her feet, fought the rising dizziness, and looked around. Oh, there it was…it was calling her….

Deaf to the voice calling her name, she made her unsteady, yet inexorable way to the small enclosure between two of the Great Tree’s roots, where, for millennia, Kocha’s graveyard had lain.