Iguions and Impressions
CHAPTER SIX
Saph was no longer in the room when Divine returned. Divine couldn’t stop the nagging thought that she hardly knew Saph. Trusting someone this early in a relationship—was it even a relationship?—was liable to leave her broken when Saph inevitably left or tired of her. But, Divine had felt so connected to the woman during their autumn market festivities, like Divine’s Soulshield abilities were present even though she didn’t have her magic well. And that morning’s successful retrieval of her talisman connected them more than she would have ever predicted. Divine blushed at the memory.
Sitting on the side of the bed, Divine used the time alone to begin repairing her talisman’s connection. To recreate the feeling of its original creation, Divine closed her eyes and imagined her mother’s garden. She took a deep breath and smelled the perfume of her mother’s favorite rose. It had a scent nearly able to give someone wings, sprinkled with the citrus of Solhavn. The effort to get that perfect, distinct scent was easier than Divine expected.
She reached a mental rope into her well, then pulled it up and inspected the connection. She found spots where the magic felt frayed, but it wouldn’t take her long to mend those areas. Divine couldn’t wait to tell Saph. She froze.
Would Saph regret their entanglement, or say it didn’t mean anything? Divine took a breath to steady herself, then descended the stairs, feeling like her locket emitted a noticeable glow through her skin. Or maybe that was the remnants of intimacy. Divine swallowed, feeling completely unprepared for how to start a conversation with Saph, if the woman hadn’t left.
The tavern was empty, chairs laid upside down on tables from the night before, while a fire blazed, wafting warmth from the fireplace. Maybe it would do well as a breakfast option for Saph’s business.
A swinging door behind the bar opened at the far corner and Saph entered, carrying a woven basket. Her cheeks were slightly flushed, and Divine’s heart skipped a beat.
“Ah, here she is. I picked up some mince pies from down the street. Crunchy cheese and fluffy eggs. They’re delightful for an early lunch. Or a late breakfast.” Saph motioned to a box on the countertop. “I figured you might need to get your strength back from…”— Tangling in the sheets? Divine’s thoughts interjected. She pulled on her rose earring and sat down at the bar—“our earlier adventures. The tavern doesn’t open for another few hours. Sit down and keep me company, hm?”
Divine slid on to a stool near the box and withdrew a small pie. It was still warm and the top looked like it had baked in butter, judging from its golden crust.
“Are you preparing for an evening rush?” Divine asked, watching Saph disappear below the counter.
“I can’t say they rush so much as lumber in. But no”—Saph’s dark hair barely peeked over the edge—“I’m taking inventory of what we’ll need for our adventure.”
Divine relaxed. Her insides had coiled tight at the idea that Saph might want to cancel their adventure after Divine’s indiscretion. It wouldn’t be the first time she misread an attraction as mutual. She debated apologizing for being so…insistent in the alley when Saph placed two large sacks on the counter and leaned on her elbows.
“Been thinking about those maps.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew the two map pieces. Laying them on the bar, she twisted them around, a hand on each, to face Divine. “The creatures in the marionette show and this ursavara drawing. Maybe it’s a warning.”
Divine leaned forward, breakfast paused in her hand. “Could be. It would probably be a good idea to stay away from that area. Might be a cave or known hunting ground for the creatures. Definitely don’t want to get close to those claws.” Divine shuddered. “What’s this?”
Divine pointed to a scrap of paper that had fallen out with the map. There were some letters she could make out like “o” and “l”, but then there were dashes and arch-like scribbles.
Saph grabbed the paper and put it back in her pocket. “It’s my shopping list. I use short symbols for writing because fun fingers here”—she held up her hand with fused fingers—“make it difficult to write.”
“You never learned to write with your non-dominant hand?”
“Too much effort. If this is to scale from here to here”—Saph drew her finger along a road moving west to southwest from Iramont, effectively changing the topic—“is about a day’s journey. I haven’t been on a horse long-distance in a long while. You?”
Divine shook her head. Wagons did not qualify.
“Then we’ll take frequent breaks. I’m guessing it will take us two days, then. There’ll be plenty of grazing areas for the horses, so it’ll just be our supplies to match the journey. We could stop here, and here the first day. Does that sound good?”
“I’ll lean on your knowledge,” Divine said, biting into the hand-sized pie. Sweet and savory and warm. She almost moaned. “These are delicious!”
“Then let’s stop at The Dragon’s Egg on our way out in the morning and get some more. Traveling doesn’t mean we can’t have some good food along the way.”
“Is that why you’re packing that?” Divine pointed to the basket. She couldn’t stop imagining Saph stretched out on a blanket while Divine fed her fruit from the woven container, the pair on a hill overlooking a cluster of orange-leafed trees. Divine pressing a kiss to Saph’s temple…
“This? Oh no, this is for donation. I’ve got some leftovers from The Dragon’s Egg and Flutterwing Inn. Oh, and I made some potato bread with the stuff that was about to go bad yesterday. I’ll pack our bags next.”
Divine beamed. “You help those in need?”
“The less fortunate. The forgotten. The unblessed. Do you approve?”
“Yes! I, uh, I’m glad to see you’re helping.”
“Aligned hearts, you and I.”
Divine’s heart danced like the boradain marionette, coaxed into motion by Saph’s tug on the strings. The tavern owner disappeared into the back again while Divine finished her breakfast. She was licking her fingers when Saph returned. The woman paused, watching Divine, then approached. She took Divine’s hand in hers and used a cloth to gently wipe Divine’s hand.
“I want to find Listhinci,” Divine blurted. “I’m sure I could help their hand. It seemed blackened but not immobile.”
“And go against the rules?” Saph bumped her lightly with her hip then passed behind her. “How adventurous.”
Divine blushed, hiding her smile with another bite of another pie. “I don’t know what happened, but Listhinci needed help. And those are ridiculous rules.”
Divine hoped Saph couldn’t see the half-truth plastered on her face. With every good part of her she wanted to help the Iguion. But she selfishly wanted to test her talisman’s connection to her magic well. If Divine couldn’t wield the magic she used to have, she was going to be of little use to Saph on their quest. A burnt hand seemed a bit more difficult than healing a papercut but not as taxing as mending a bone. Testing it here at the tavern didn’t seem possible. Especially with Saph’s presence consistently making Divine’s thoughts turn to romance.
“Viktor probably knows where they are. Want me to come with you?”
“I can manage. Besides, you have some preparing to do. Want me to ask Viktor about securing horses for tomorrow? At least that way I could be of some use.”
Divine popped the last bite into her mouth. Saph halted behind the bar and reached her hand to Divine’s chin, gently brushing several crumbs away with her thumb.
“I can think of other ways I could use you,” Saph said quietly. Divine thought she might choke on the food. “Yes, ask him for a horse each. Just don’t tell him what we’re doing. He’s liable to invite himself along. Oh and here,”—Saph placed a small box on the bar—“a treat for the little Iguion.”
Trying to suppress the tremble Saph’s touch elicited, Divine gave a small wave and headed to the street.
* * *
At the Palfrey Post, Divine arranged for the horses as planned and managed to redirect most of Viktor’s questions into the general category of “just helping Saph”. He seemed to accept the lack of details, which might have been influenced by Divine blanketing his curiosity with a calming mental push. Her emotional regulation ability seemed to be working, though she was afraid to dip too far too fast into the depths of her well. She remembered passing out those first few times after creating her talisman.
From Viktor she learned Listhinci was staying in temporary housing in the Living District’s outskirts. Divine followed the familiar path to the fountain and sat at its edge. She hadn’t used her healing abilities for nearly two seasons and expecting to help the Iguion without firmly reestablishing her connection with her talisman would be a disservice to them both.
The gentle crash of the water created a calming atmosphere. The illusion of being alone behind a waterfall and that close, shut-off-from-the-world feeling was just what she needed to dip her toes into the depths of her magic well. Just her and the magic. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Divine dipped into her magic, as if she stood at the edge of her well, ascertaining its depth by submerging her toes. The familiar cool weight trickled over her, and she dipped again, deeper into her well of power. An ankle. Then a knee. The space carved out for her magic was still there, still blooming with the scent of sweet roses. It existed in her mind, yet through her talisman it connected to a plane of magic somewhere between the physical world and the afterlife where the Gods and Goddesses dwelled. Supposedly.
Divine’s focus wavered and she threw her arms out, feeling like she tumbled through water. She steadied herself and tried again.
She stood at the edge of the metaphorical well and grabbed a channel of energy, like a rope that would bring buckets from the bottom. She let the bucket sink and pulled it back, imagining a gentle wave washing over herself. Immediately she felt more relaxed.
She repeated the gesture, each time tossing the bucket further into the well, repairing the connection between her talisman and the magic like one who repeated squats to build leg strength. Satisfied that she, at the least, could access the well, Divine opened her eyes and stood.
Turning left from the pool, behind some of the more lavish doors and window boxes of the main street, there was a tighter lane. Connected homes made the length look like the long tail of a black-tailed swiller. Divine stopped in front of one home with a pink door.
As she knocked, Divine noted the peeling paint on the door’s wood and the dead flowers in the window box. It leaned to one side like a screw was loose. Divine wondered if the disrepair was by choice, or if the property-owner hadn’t put in the effort.
The door opened a crack and a yellow eye surrounded by scales peeked out.
“It’s Divine. I’m sorry to disturb you,” Divine said placing a hand over her chest, “but I wanted to make good on my statement from earlier. That I would try.”
Listhinci’s golden eye blinked, the vertical pupil constricting, then they opened the door wider and stepped aside, allowing Divine to enter the home. As they closed the door behind them, Divine noted Listhinci’s blackened arm was in a sling.
“This is from Saph,” Divine said, thrusting the small box awkwardly. “For your little one.” As Listhinci clasped their claws around it Divine heard a chorus of chirps from inside.
Divine followed the Iguion through the front room. Tables were scooted close to the front window, lined with trays growing various stages of green growth in small pots. On the table in shadow, a crystal cascaded light from where it was held aloft in a mechanism not unlike a metal Iguion arm over its tray of sprouts.
They passed through the home’s kitchen into a short hallway. A closed door stood at the end, which Listhinci opened and stepped through. They scooped a travel bag from their path with their tail and plopped it on a small bed by the right wall.
Articles of clothing stuck out, but a soft sneeze captured Divine’s attention.
Against the far wall sat a woven basinet, a green vine trailing up its light brown canopy. An orange bee made of felt dangled from a stick above the base. And nestled in the cream fabric within the basket, Divine could just see the green spikes of a small head and body. A silver disc with red-orange material pointed over the bassinet, suspended from a hooked pole and bathed the reptilian’s scaled body in a warm glow.
“May I?” Divine whispered.
Listhinci made a short click noise and motioned their hand, claws up, toward the bassinet.
Divine leaned over the edge. Heat emanated from the glowing disc against her skin as Divine watched the baby Iguion’s soft belly rise and fall. Their eyes were shut and their tail curled around their legs.
“Your baby is beautiful,” Divine whispered.
“Thank you. It is difficult to hold them with my injury. But feeding is simple, so I am managing.”
Divine marveled at how the Iguion seemed to effortlessly decrease the volume of their voice, somehow layering articulation within the susurration. Turning from the baby, Divine examined the remainder of the room.
Books and papers covered a table which contained instruments Divine didn’t recognize and one large one that looked familiar. There was a canister as long as her arm and as wide as her head, but what looked like a telescope was pointed down at the table. A cord ran from the back into what appeared to be a scrying pool—a transparent dish filled with water. Listhinci grunted, interrupting Divine’s wonder. She swiveled to the Iguion.
“Are you in pain?” Divine asked. She chastised herself for not immediately engaging in the reason she had come here.
“It is like ice and tingles, but I have felt worse.”
“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t feel better. Here, sit down.”
Divine led them to the single chair by the table with the scope device. Looping their tail over their uninjured arm, they sat down. Untying the sling, Divine inspected the smaller scales of their hand and forearm and the gradual increase in size past their elbow. She tried to talk as she examined.
“Viktor and the others…how did you end up with them? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“They each have something to offer, as do I. It is a beneficial arrangement.”
Divine tried to detect emotions from the Iguion but struggled to find more than a sense of ease. The pink shades of their scales were either blackened or dull gray. Divine didn’t see any signs of crusting, but it was difficult to see the skin beneath the scales.
Skimming the top of her well, Divine breathed in the sweet perfume of rain on rose and pushed the feeling over Listhinci like a blanket. She imagined drops soaking beneath their scales and exhaled.
“There. Does that feel better?”
“It still tingles but the cold is gone.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could do better. I don’t know much about Iguion physiology. Nor do I have experience healing your kind.”
“It is alright. I appreciate your efforts.”
“But I’m not done.” Divine smiled. “I’ll try to heal you. If you could just sit right there,” Divine’s voice trailed off as she closed her eyes.
This would be the true test of her abilities and if she had repaired the connection to her well. She pushed the bucket down, deep into the darkness, imagining several on a rope like a waterwheel, retrieving magical energy and condensing it into a salve. As she pulled the last container, she thought she heard an echo in her well come to her from further away, as if the walls of her spring were further back than she thought. Divine mentally shook her head, dismissing the observation. It had been months since she had plunged within the depths. It was logical that her memory would not be as precise as a Harvester’s map.
“Should something be happening?”
Divine’s eyes snapped opened, the magic energy dwindling to a drip. Her throat constricted as she took in Listhinci’s scales; as black as they had been.
Divine let out a breath. “If you tell me how this happened, it might help how I approach the problem.”
Listhinci rotated their head toward the table as if reading their response from the contents.
“Now I’m wishing I had asked my mother more questions about her visit to Solhavn. She was around your kind for at least a week.”
Listhinci’s dewlap quivered. “Your mother was allowed into the city?”
“Yes, she stayed with an Iguion named Iksarsis. I guess now that you ask, it does seem out of the ordinary.”
“It is not often that we let outsiders into our homes. Iksarsis is a great healer.”
Visitors vacationed at the island—it never suffered winter. But entrance to the boardwalk city of the Iguion was often reserved to specific days. Divine’s mother had gone two years before her passing. Now that she thought about it, her mother had one of her remissions after coming home.
“Huh. All this time I thought she had visited the island for its natural healing properties. You know how they send people to the Dalga Hot Springs. I never thought she could have gone to see a medicinal healer.”
“Not only medicinal.”
Divine’s hand froze as she turned over the Iguion’s arm. “Are you saying they had magic?”
Listhinci blinked. “Many do, do they not?”
“Humans yes, but…”
The Iguion leaned forward. “Do you believe what they say about us?”
“I’ll believe what you say about you.”
“Iguion cannot heal Iguion…” Listhinci clicked their long fingers together in front of Divine.
“But they can heal others,” Divine finished.
“Some of us. Others have…different gifts.” With this, Listhinci bobbed their head at the equipment on the table. “I am a researcher. An experimenter. Somewhat like your apothecaries. I was working with an item when I…misjudged.”
“What kind of item?”
Listhinci curled their fingers until one remained pointed and gestured to Divine’s throat.
Defensively, Divine clutched her locket. “A talisman? Is that what you got from Sylus at the bar?”
Listhinci snuffed in affirmation. “I can dissolve the connection between talisman and magical energy. But it can be dangerous. Done improperly it becomes corrupted. A contaminate instead of a charm.”
Divine’s mouth fell open as she fumbled for words. Her interaction with the Goodly One came rushing back in images and she could nearly hear his revelation of those who can use other’s talismans. If Kellas could drain talismans of their magic for cannonballs, then Iguion could block the connection?
“Why?” she asked at last. “Why would you do that to someone’s talisman?”
“The intent is not harmful. The talismans are given freely. Of more, I will not say now. Does this help you help me?”
Divine’s mind reeled. Human-adjacents had magic. Despite the vehement preachings of every temple.
The temples are lying .
Divine searched the Iguion’s face; their scales were not showing their silvery side, their dewlap remained flat. Everything Divine had noticed about their emotional responses was missing, calm. The hint of emotion Divine detected matched. Then there was her mother who trusted the race enough to seek out their help for her illness.
“I think so,” Divine said, releasing her grip on her talisman. “If I think of it like a poisoning or an infection, then maybe. Yes, let me try.”
As if it would help her focus, Divine pressed her palm into the top of her locket and closed her eyes again. She repeated her earlier effort, focusing on the scent of the rose her mother always said hid a hint of lemon behind the sweet petals. This time, she poured her magical energy like a rinse over the tissue beneath the scales of the Iguion.
“Anything?” Divine asked, searching for the return of color to the blackened scales.
“I feel…more tingly.”
Divine groaned. Gray and black remained. “I’m sorry. I really thought I could help you.”
A soft squeak issued from the bassinet followed by another. Listhinci touched Divine’s shoulder and moved passed.
“You have helped. See? It no longer hurts.”
Turning around, Divine saw that Listhinci held their baby on their shoulder, their injured arm bracing the young one as they opened Saph’s gift.
“I will be returning to Solhavn for the winter season,” Listhinci said, feeding the baby a small insect. “I invite you to come stay with me.”
“Oh, I’d just be in your way.”
Their cheeks puffed. “There are things I could tell you there that I dare not risk here. The deities have eyes and ears in many places. Come. And at the gates of Zax Solhavn tell them I sent you, ‘by the old ways.’”
“Thank you for your kind invitation.” There was something there, either in the unreadable face or the words of the Iguion that promised answers. “I will consider it. Take care of your baby, I’ll see myself out.”
“Please. One moment.”
Listhinci glided to their table and opened a drawer, bending at the hip to balance the baby on their shoulder as they reached in. They withdrew an object and deposited it into Divine’s hand. A shiny, black stone flattened in the shape of a triangle.
“Use it like a talisman but to…sever your connection. If you ever have the need. And thank you, Divine. You are among the finest humans.”
Heat rose in Divine’s eyes at the compliment. She blinked to discourage any leakage, and bent her head in thanks. Confused why she would ever need to detach herself from her talisman, she said no more and returned to the sunlight of Iramont’s streets.
She looked at the sun overhead. It was time for lunch and the tavern was open. If Divine was to help with the preparations for Saph’s quest she should get back. The map and the mysterious destination awaited. Hopefully she could sneak a moment between Saph’s tavern duties to talk about the morning’s bed sheet action. She wanted a distraction—needed a distraction—from the ideas the Iguion put into her head.
Turning onto the main street, she glanced at the sun again, the domain of the God of Day and Deceit, and wondered if the biggest trick of all was that anyone held the truth.