19. Humanity

19

Humanity

Safira Chastain

M arin was in the kitchen when I made my way back to Barixeor, and I was pretty sure she was waiting for me. She had that loitering appearance that people have when they're pretending to work, bustling around without actually getting anything done. When I set my pack down on the table, now mostly empty of the food she'd sent, she turned to me with relief on her face.

"There you are," she said, coming over with a smile. "Magus Leyweaver said you were... on vacation for a little while." She glanced up at the ceiling, as if looking towards the sorcerer. "Was it... them?"

I shrugged, feeling uneasy. I didn't have any desire to tell people my sob story, or to have them pat me on the back and make comforting noises at me. I was here, and the wizard wasn't. That life was a dead one. I was making a new one. "I grew up at the University," I said by way of explanation. "There's a great deal of regular folk there, both in the outer rings of the University and in the surrounding towns. It takes a lot of labor to support the University, and they pay well. But that many sorcerers in one place still makes me nervous."

She made a thoughtful noise, starting to unpack my bag. "I suppose that only makes sense," she said. Her green eyes flicked over to me, lingering on my damp hair. "I take it things with Celyn are going... well?"

That earned her another uneasy shrug. As little as I wanted to share my past, I was even more reticent to let people into my relationship with Celyn. Despite the care and advice of the people who were growing to be my friends, everything about Celyn felt special to me. It felt like he was in his own world, and when I joined him there, none of the rest of mine came along with me. The waters of Tsirisma Lake, cold though they were, had a warmer welcome for me than anywhere else in Noetana.

When I didn't answer, her smile went flat, and Marin turned to her task again. "I won't tell you what to do—"

"You want to, though," I said, cutting her off. I wrapped my arms around myself at her sharp look, not able to meet her eyes. "He's no more dangerous than the sorcerers that were swanning about in the Spire, and he's a lot more honest than most mages I've met."

Marin sighed, her shoulders drooping. She picked up my dishes and walked them to the sink, then set her hands on the edge, her head bowed. "He's not human," she said. "He doesn't think like us."

"Honestly, that's a perk." I kept my voice light. I didn't want this to turn into a fight. When she turned to look at me, I smiled. "Look," I said. "He's not human. I get that. He's really old, and he's spent most of that time totally alone. Sometimes he comes at the world in unexpected ways." I rubbed my cheek with my knuckles, thinking of Celyn demanding I tell him how to properly pleasure me—of claiming that letting him taste me was a way of pleasuring him. "But Leyweaver said he's never told a lie, and I believe her. So can you just... let him be?"

She pursed her lips, looking away for a moment before shaking her head and returning to finish the unpacking. "If that's what you want," she said, keeping her eyes downcast and words soft. "I'm not your mother, and as long as your personal conduct doesn't affect your work, it's none of my business if you don't want it to be."

"Thanks." I picked up my wad of clothes and bedding, holding it to my chest like a shield. The mention of my mother left a wrenching pain in my chest, a reminder of the neverending grief. They'd died and left me alone, and I'd jumped into the wizard's arms for the hope of security and family. Grief does such awful things to people, and mine had twisted my life into a shape I would never escape. "I'll probably be bringing in a lot of produce tomorrow. Where's the best place for it?"

"Timeless is fine," she said, looking back up at me with a distant smile. "I'll leave out crates for you, if you like."

"That would be great. Thanks, Marin." I flashed her my own smile. "See you tomorrow."

"Until then."

She didn't ask any more questions, and I didn't try to engage her. I went up to my massive suite of rooms, looking around it as if I was a stranger. After living in the cove for days, I'd forgotten the enormity of the space allocated to me in the Spire. It was larger than many homes for full families, decked out with sumptuous furnishings and decorations. It didn't feel like home, even though it was my home. I'd felt far more comfortable lying underneath a pine tree with the sounds of the lake filling my ears.

I didn't dwell on the thought. I did all the things I was supposed to do, putting my dirty things in the laundry for Bash and taking a warm shower, writing down my notes in the journal and getting ready for bed. It felt oddly hollow, as if I was play-acting being a person instead of actually existing. Spending the days lounging with Celyn and having more than my fair share of orgasms had spoiled me, I supposed. But it's not like I could stay on vacation forever, and I did love gardening. As soon as I looked at my untended plants, I knew I'd be eager to get back to work.

But for that night, lying in my huge, empty bed with a stone roof over my head and only silence filling the air, I missed the lakeshore. And, too, I missed the way Celyn liked to lie next to me, his fingers in my hair and his body curled against mine. I'd been so sure I'd never let a man touch me again, but Celyn only looked like a man. He was Tsirisma Lake, and it was impossible to forget. His skin smelled of ice and rain, and he moved with an animal's surety. His words were measured, and he thought differently than any man I'd ever met.

Perhaps the wizard had ruined me for men, but he hadn't ruined me for lakes, and I was grateful for the escape. That Celyn had five fingers and a smile didn't trouble me. His beauty was so different from the wizard's. He was so different from the rest of the world, and I delighted in getting to be with him.

It took me longer than usual to fall asleep, but the night caught me eventually, bringing with it dreams of open water and blue skies. By the morning, I'd all but forgotten my troubles—and when I came whistling into the kitchen, my heart nearly stopped dead at the sight of the sorcerer sitting in my spot at the kitchen table, her long braid hanging over the back of my favorite chair.

For a moment, panic skittered across my ribs. Had she noticed me? Could I leave? Would I get in trouble if—

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at me, a friendly expression on the face of someone who could probably destroy this whole Spire if she so chose. "Morning, Safira," she said, her tone mellow. "Marin mentioned you still need to be keyed to the Spire. Mind if we do that now?"

"O-oh," I said, tripping over the word. "Um, yes. Of course, magus."

"Rain," she said. The sorcerer rotated her chair, holding out her hand. "It'll just take a moment. It's easiest if you touch my hand, but I can do it from here if you prefer."

"Um." I rubbed my sweaty palm against my pants, then made myself walk forward. Mages weren't like water-horses. Touching her wouldn't change anything about what she could do to me. Still, it was hard to make myself put my hand in hers, and even the calluses on her fingers didn't soothe.

Her eyes went unfocused for a moment, her breathing slowing. She let me go a moment later, turning back to her meal. "All done," she said. "You should be able to go anywhere but the rooms for the inimical magics and the barren spaces now. Let me know if you need access for some reason, and I'll accompany you."

Cold slid down my spine at those words, goosebumps prickling my skin. "I don't think I'll ever go there," I said, my voice tight.

She lifted one shoulder. "Didn't think so."

I didn't know what to say to that. I shook my head when Marin offered me breakfast and fled, going back to the outdoors and all the ease that came with the open sky and the sunlight glinting off the lake.