"...and therefore release you from service to us until such time as you should, of your own volition, wish to return...," Druce read to herself as she leaned gingerly on the banister in front of the now oft-used guest room. Well, that's wise of them, she thought. I think with everything they've been through these past few days, it's completely understandable to cut ties with anything and anyone that vaguely-
And at that moment, Eunice began climbing the stairs. Seeing Druce calmly contemplating the Sunfire's letter to Silveredge as though it had been addressed to her while standing outside the partially opened door to the guest room, Terezio's apprentice prepared to see why the older Human woman was not about the business of learning warding magic.
"Don't tell me you don't remember," Druce said with a start when she realized Eunice's presence. "She's done this for as long as she's been here; it's obviously a sacred ritual for her. Just wait."
"I don't see why she should waste your time with her... worship," Eunice frowned, "or why it's permitted-"
"Eunice, if there had been any stripe or flavor of Shar worship in this house, your tutor himself would have brought the entire place down to destroy it; now, don't you make me slap your darling little impudent face," Druce smiled sweetly. "Just wait, and-"
From inside the room came four unintelligible, but sweetly sounded, song lines. Although quietly and reverently voiced, the delicate soprano seemed somehow piercing, as a needle or a snake fang might be.
"It's wickedness," Eunice whispered fearfully, drawing closer to Druce than either woman was expecting. "Don't you feel your arms prickling? I don't think that's even Common, whatever she's saying."
"Get a hold of yourself, woman," Druce spat, pulling herself away. "Act in accordance with your age, if not your knowledge."
A long sustained note, like the cry of a young or frail mourner, seeped through the half open door. Druce closed her eyes, much to Eunice's horror, and clutched her hands to her heart to begin a prayer to Lliira.
"Lady Druce, I thought you feared Saint Cuthbert and Pelor, as Battlemage Ranclyffe does!" the apprentice whispered fiercely, holding her own arms closely to herself for an entirely different reason.
Druce finished her prayer, touched her right hand to her lips first, then her left breast, and finally opened her eyes with a sigh. "Have you bothered to find the Ranclyffe family shrine space?" she asked patiently. "And what sort of worshiper of any god are you, anyhow, to interrupt an obvious prayer like that? Now come along, if you're coming."
With that, the older woman moved past the astonished apprentice and opened the carved wooden guest room door all the way. Immediately, a flash of red tattoo and fur dashed toward her. For a moment, Druce was concerned that she would be knocked flat by the powerful creature, but as nimbly as a hare, the large puppy dodged off to one side of her and ran all the way around her. He sat back on his haunches for a few moments at a time as he barked, sniffed at her, and panted, his stump of a tail furiously moving behind him. It was, all in all, a great show, considering that he knew exactly who Druce was- it was hard not to recognize the woman whose faint scent had joined his charge's on every plate of food he'd gotten in the house so far.
"Oh, dear; you gave me a fright," Druce smiled, steadily regaining her confidence that she wouldn't be harmed. "You know, there was a small child, a little girl, who came by to visit you. You and your lady-friend were both still asleep, so we turned her away."
"The handmaiden is sorry to hear that," came a calm, clear voice from a far corner of the room. A silver haired woman who was still in the process of braiding some of the hair at the front of her head moved out of the shadows there, which receded considerably in response, as though they had been made of dark water. "If she returns, we will go and play with her."
The idea seemed to please the dog greatly, and he hopped around the room for a while to show it. The young blue-skinned woman finished her long strap braid, knelt down, and opened her arms to the creature, who wasted no time in slamming nearly every pound of his power into her waiting arms. The woman, judging by her low, careful positioning, had clearly expected the charge, and was rewarded by only having been moved three or four inches back toward the wall, and the curtained windows there. Druce took the opportunity to realize that the curtains were still drawn as though it were night, then saw out of the corner of her eye that Eunice had noticed them as well.
Another reason to suspect her, Druce frowned.
After a few moments of quiet speech that neither of the Human women present could understand, the Shadar-kai arose from the floor. The dog, still sparking with energy, padded off to the makeshift bed that had been created in a large wicker basket, immediately positioning himself so that he could watch whatever might come through the doorway.
"Now, Lady Drussandra, I give you again the challenge of your soul," the Shadar-kai smiled, moving back to the corner from which she'd emerged briefly. The shadows there again deepened and lengthened as though the young woman had somehow submerged herself in dark waters. Druce stepped carefully to the small table that sat between the two windows and sat down.
"And I receive it gladly, Dedicant Sheeklihemree... did I get it right?"
"It is of no concern," Silveredge smiled genuinely as she busied herself the shadows. "The handmaiden answers your intention, no matter the robes in which it presents itself."
"I should still like to get it right," Druce chuckled lightly. "While Rezi and I were expecting Federico, he received orders for Immersea. The registrar stationed us thinking that she'd put me with my family to help me through the pain and concern, but didn't realize she'd sent us to Rezi's family, not mine. I wound up staying with Petricio, one of Rezi's two uncles, because his wife was alive and willing to help me. Anyhow, back home in Minroe, I was called either Sandra or Sandy, but my town was small enough that you wouldn't mistake one girl for another no matter what she'd called herself that morning. In the comparatively huge Immersea, there were already plenty of Sandras and Sandys, one of which was Rezi's unmarried elder cousin. You can imagine how pleased she was to be distinguished from me by being called 'the Aldermaiden.' Then, two months later, because Drussandra was nowhere near as well-known a name as Cassandra, the Dragon Requisition Office decided this little lack-brain from Minroe had to be either mistaken or lying. The head req-officer demanded that I have my mother and midwife send a written solemn oath, and absolutely refused to put in a request until she had received it. My mother, rest her soul, was illiterate, but the midwife, rest her soul, wasn't, and she was furious that the Dragons would refuse a pregnant woman food. So she wrote out three identical copies of the oath- one for the official Dragon records, one for me to keep, and one for the Ranclyffe family- then put a small cut on the first finger of my mother's left hand and pressed her blood to the papers. The req-officer was embarrassed, shocked, and incredibly penitent, so she doubled my food rations. She also started calling me 'Druce,' and I never corrected her. By the time Rezi was moved to Wheloon, I had learned to introduce myself that way."
Silveredge returned to Druce with two bowls- one full of sand and water, and the other completely clean and dry.
"I remember my mother telling me that her good friend claimed that I looked like her child, instead of my father's. My mother loved this, and even in pain on the birthing floor, told her good friend to name me. Unfortunately, neither she, nor my elder sister, nor any of the other women in the room could write down, let alone pronounce, what my mother's good friend said, and she was not able to write any of our languages. So when it came time to present me, my mother did her best to say exactly what her friend said, and Jyklihaimra is the result. The handmaiden is often told that the pronunciation is deplorable, but can offer no idea of what her mother's good friend truly intended. The meaning, which the elders asked for at once, is something like 'Charmed mage,' but degenerated, over time, into Silverhag. With a bit more time, I simply learned to answer to whatever it was that others decided I should be called; one title is as good as another, so long as the intention is understood."
Silveredge continued moving as she spoke, retrieving a worn and battered robe from the corner. Druce, as she listened, fished in her pockets, and produced a pair of shears that belonged to her sewing kit.
"I suppose that makes some sense," the older Human woman frowned. "But all the same, I should like to get it right. There's something- comforting, I think- about hearing the name that you actually should be called. It feels as though the person speaking took time to remember it, and speak it correctly. That's it- the consideration of it. That's what I mean. The person speaking should be considerate; should know you, and know what you're called. Your name is special, like you."
"The handmaiden doesn't desire to be special," Silveredge replied quietly, sitting on the other side of the table. "Simplicity is sufficient."
"I don't know that you can do very much about the rather vast space between yourself and simplicity, dear," Druce smiled warmly. "I'd say, if nature sees fit to make you shine like a star, you oughtn't pretend you're a common rock."
"Wait- what is this going to do?" Eunice interrupted, unable to keep her peace any longer.
"Hmm? I'm supposed to get the sand out of the water," Druce replied, turning her body and the chair so that she could fully face both bowls. "I've been at it for too long now, and I don't seem to quite be... getting it."
The apprentice wrinkled her brow and looked to the Shadar-kai, who had focused on snipping at the robe in her lap. It seemed to be the absolute opposite of what needed to be done to the tattered thing.
"Miss, what do you mean by this, having Lady Druce to do menial work? This isn't spell work at all- aren't you supposed to be-"
"Aren't you supposed to be in training?" Druce huffed, mildly annoyed at the interference. "Go on, get to whatever it is you're supposed to be doing."
"But Battlemage Ranclyffe sent me to find out how you were progressing," Eunice argued. "I was to tell him what spells you might be working on, so that he might help you properly factor and execute them, if need be."
Druce looked up from the bowls and put her arms on the table. "Eunice, I am getting the sand out of the water. Go and ask Rezi to remember how desperately he wants me to keep out of his playroom. Right now, I need him to stay out of mine."
"Oh," the younger Human woman said with a strangely offended tone. She blinked and looked about herself, vainly trying to think of something that might keep her from having to leave right away. She instead met the calm, platinum gaze of the Shadar-kai, which sent chills down her spine instantly. Unable to think of anything at all, she turned and left without pardoning her exit or closing the door.
"Don't mind her, dear," Druce said as she returned her focus to the bowls before her. "She's not at her best with others. One would think someone would have the sense to put her with a homey, sister-aged magic worker, or perhaps a cheery, fatherly male one. Even a chatty aldermaiden with a cat or two would have done, but no, they apprentice her to Rezi. The College makes me wonder, at times."
"My lord Ranclyffe is very cheery when he is with you," Silveredge noted quietly. "Sunlight touches his face then; I have seen it."
Druce laughed gently. "Yes, well, that's not always the case. In fact, it was quite the opposite, when first we met. I was just a nosy little cook and pot washer, back then, and had gotten myself into his study room- well! The glares and tongue lashing I got, you'd have thought he was my father. But the next night, I simply picked his study room lock again, and was sitting right there, proudly reading his notebooks, when he arrived to practice his incantations and experimentations and whatnot. As though I could understand a word! But he was handsome to look at, willing to brave all for what he thought was good, and very intelligent. All I had to do was convince him that I was just as smart as he, and twice as stubborn."
"My lady is wise, to have chosen for herself a good and honest challenge," came the quiet, but clearly pleased reply. "May you contend beautifully against each other for the rest of your days."
"And what about your challenge, dear, hmm?" Druce said at once, looking over the bowls toward Silveredge, who was still focused on the robe in her lap. "I do believe I had heard a stray word or two about Young Ser Raibeart- and his case should clear, I think, at the Pillars."
"My lady is kind," the Shadar-kai answered. There was no further reply, but something about the way the words were spoken made Druce realize that she wasn't the one to hear whatever else had to be said about the matter. She looked down at the bowls, but decided to take up a different tack.
"It's a shame, you know, about the young woman you came here with. It's very easy to hang around the wrong sort of people, doing as she does. I would know."
A couple of beats of silence passed before Druce decided to completely cant the playing field up toward the silent woman.
"That's how I landed myself in service to the War College in the first place, getting caught at stealing from their alchemy gardens."
Predictably, the Shadar-kai stopped working at the robe and looked up. Druce caught the platinum gaze and nodded.
"I could tell because of her hands," she admitted with a smile. "Lovely and delicate, perfect for fooling a lock into opening for someone who hasn't the proper key. You're very similar to her, that way, and I found myself wondering if both of you are good with needles as well."
Silveredge smiled with no hint of negative emotion, but the puppy, who was laying with his head on his paws in the basket, did all the emoting for her with one very quiet whine.
"I'm very sorry, my dear," Druce said honestly, wishing she could hug the suddenly frail-seeming woman before her. "Perhaps- who knows. Perhaps there's some sort of mistake, and the Dragons are wrong. It wouldn't be the first time."
"My lady is very kind," the light blue-hued woman replied. "It must be that her god or goddess teaches of mercy, and second chances."
Druce deftly took the change of subject. "In a manner of speaking, yes, they both do. In name, Rezi and I are followers of Lathander and Pelor, but- well. We have our secrets."
The two women smiled at each other for a while longer, then turned back to their respective tasks. Below and just beyond them, the hound gave another sad or worried whine. Druce found that the fact that she could not tell which problem it was concerned her; it was obvious that the woman behind her and the dog were very close.
Síochána, the Shadar-kai thought calmly.
The dog sighed and shifted, but fell otherwise quiet.
After a few silent minutes, Druce began to dig her fingers into the sand at the bottom of the bowl. The sand, which had sat in the bowl under the water all night, was hard, cold, and difficult to shift. She frowned, pulling her hand back out of the water and wondering why her tutor had not given her an instrument with which to work.
A familiar tread began its slow, heavy progress up the stairs, underscored by a lighter set of footfalls. Near the bed, the dog got up and over two steps to the door before abruptly stopping and returning to the basket as though the Shadar-kai had given an actual, spoken command. Druce, unconcerned, didn't even look up, although Silveredge certainly did, and was rewarded by the sight of the very same bespectacled seer who had given a rather stony welcome in what now seemed like a strange and distant past.
"A good morning to you, Miss..." Terezio began cautiously. "I am told you are... working out crafts of some sort."
Druce suddenly took a sharp intake of breath and put her hands over her mouth. Eunice and Terezio both looked at her immediately, and Silveredge felt waves of concern ripple from them both.
After a few moments of silence, Terezio dared to speak. "Are you-"
"Shhh," Druce hissed, waving her left hand at her husband briefly before putting it back over her mouth. Silveredge looked back down at the work in her lap, her face left carefully bare of expression.
Terezio opened his mouth to speak again, then stopped himself, tilting his head very slightly as though he'd just heard something very surprising. Eunice took a half step forward, only to be stopped by the cautioning hand of her mentor.
"If I just-" Druce picked up the bowl of sand and water completely, then slowly and carefully poured the water into the other bowl. "There."
"But there is a little water yet in the sand," Silveredge noted quietly. "And there is a little sand in the water."
"Well, the sand will settle and the water will dry," Druce proclaimed firmly, sitting back from the table.
There was a short silence during which Silveredge stopped cutting the stitches out of the robe and actually looked up.
"Is the water good, or evil?" she asked.
Druce's face clouded for a moment, but then suddenly beamed with understanding.
Terezio took a step back and crossed his arms, intrigued. Having already felt where the lesson would go, he found himself strangely pleased. Eunice, however, was absolutely dumbfounded at the question, and found she couldn't even think of the words she needed to object to it.
Druce folded her hands in her lap and breathed deeply before she spoke.
"Water is water."
"And Drussandra," Silveredge smiled, looking back down to the robe, "Is Drussandra."
Terezio very quietly took his pink-cheeked apprentice by her shoulders, turned her around, and walked back out of the room.
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