Fluid - 14

With the sun nearly directly above us, I head inside before my stomach can start protesting. Protean might deal with fatigue, but my body still wants food. Before I've finished cooking, the odours beckon the others to the courtyard and I have to give Pitnari a warning look to stop him from messing up my preparations.

There is cooling flatbread off to one side, but the baking wasn’t what drew them. The thinly sliced venison mixed in with the vegetables and tubers cooked in the Wood Elf style, a mixture of oils rather than flames doing the cooking. Easy enough to hurt yourself if you don’t wait until you’ve stirred the neutraliser throughout to calm the released heat.

Handing Zosime the first serving, I make the others wait longer until she gives a happy nod. “This is very different, but it's nice.”

“Not something I do all the time. This dish is a Wood Elf meal; the Taurë rarely cook with open flames,” I explain and dish out portions to match the hunger I can sense from Aggie and Nikias. Pausing, with my spoon poised as if to dig in, I give Pitnari a teasing look, and before he can protest, I split the large portion that remains. As a Hound Archon, he doesn’t need the food, but I know he likes it, and it will keep his disguise intact for longer.

“Thanks, brat,” grumbles Pitnari playfully.

“Sorry about all the stray kittens turning up at mealtimes,” I say to Zosime, and she smiles at my teasing tone.

Pitnari gives a playful growl, but silence settles in as people dig in, and I pass cups around before eating myself.

“I thought you always produced your food with magic,” comments Pitnari once everyone finishes up.

“It varies,” I say and get ready to clean up. Retrieving a flask to fill the washing bowl has Zosime watching me with surprise when the hand-sized flask provides a few litres of steaming, clear water. “It can produce a certain volume of any fluid you think about each day. Whether it be Dragon Breath’s whiskey, mulled wine, or steaming water for washing up.”

“That’s what I meant about expecting you to use magic for the food. You’re very casual about magic use. Trying to make some locals' eyes pop out of their heads even further?” asks Pitnari.

“You’ve rarely been around. Elleth taught me to cook in several styles, and if I’m exhausted, whipping up food with magic is counterproductive. Though normally I use a style closer to what most humans use for cooking, through heated stones instead of open flames.”

“Pitnari, stop putting Gail on the spot. Many higher-level adventurers are very casual about magical use,” Aggie says before he can reply. “Thank you for the meal, Gail; it was delicious.”

“My pleasure,” I reply.

“That’s one thing to be aware of, Nikias. You’ve sworn to someone who loves to help, even if she has to bleed for others,” cautions Pitnari.

His wording has Nikias wince. I drop my bowl into the water, ready to scold him, only for him to raise a hand for me to wait.

“That wasn’t a reprimand of either of you. Nikias, you need to know that Gail will probably get herself in trouble repeatedly helping others. If she hurts herself doing so, it's her choice, not your fault,” advises Pitnari. “She is too good to others, sometimes at detriment to herself. She’s taken injuries for team members that could have handled them.”

Aggie nods at Pitnari’s words and pats Nikias’ shoulder. “Gail’s driven a score of individuals stronger than any of us to distraction.”

He glances with disbelief at her golden eyes. “You’re High Traveller Aggie, aren’t you? Lerina’s Paragon and one of the god slayers.”

The details are more accurate than I’d expected; after a score of years, it wouldn’t have surprised me if they’d expected her to be a hundred metres tall. “Your eyes are distinctive, Auntie, so have fun keeping a low profile. Though she’s Grand Traveller now.”

My teasing earns a sigh, but Aggie doesn’t look away from Nikias. “Just because someone is strong doesn’t mean there aren’t others stronger. The Titan’s restrictions for the Gods’ War reduced the gods to a shadow of their normal selves, which is why they died in such numbers. If Artemis had been at full strength, she would have swatted me like a fly.”

Pitnari makes a noise of discontent. “I was beyond the northern borders when the war started, so I couldn’t even return to Human territory to help.”

“Gail, Yngvarr wants you to meet with Androkles, Imhotep, and Phile this afternoon at the Guildhall,” advises Aggie, shifting gears.

The news wasn’t what I wanted straight after an enjoyable meal. “I’ll see Irene first and check on Myrto’s classes, so maybe later this afternoon.”

She lifts her eyebrows at my noncommittal answer. “Maybe?”

“I’m trying to let my upset with Imhotep cool first.”

“Might be wise, but you’ll need to balance cooling off with not aggravating the situation.”

My father says one can either act or react, but responding means the other person has control.

“Aggie, to be polite about it, I’m quite happy to quit the guild. Since he has no leverage over me, his temper is his problem. Nikias, do you want to accompany me to Hestia’s Temple this afternoon?”

“I am your guard and knight. Aren’t I supposed to accompany you?” asks Nikias, oblivious to the flicker of surprise Aggie suppresses.

“Fine, but let your family know you’re boarding here before we head over.”

Aggie clears her throat. “But you just joined, Gail.”

“And? I can afford the lost gold. Even without what I brought with me, thanks to being paid for the cove and Lerina’s Temple I’ve plenty of funds for the time being and I can see financial options that don’t involve being a guild member.”

“You said you’d consider taking Nanoĸ into your team,” Aggie reminds me unnecessarily.

“I am, but him being on my team and me being a member of the guild aren’t mutually inclusive. The first option that came to mind was to leave the guild and hire adventurers. Then I’m the employer, and Nanoĸ would be welcome to enter my employment. That option has the distinct advantage that I’m not answerable to Imhotep’s judgement of the rules,” I say and catch her steady herself.

Aggie sighs, and I can tell she’s going to persist. “Your Aunt’s influence was a primary factor in the guild's creation.”

“Yeah, but she’d have no patience for the display he put on, so you should be proud. What did she say to the steward, something about pulling the rat out of his arse?”

My response elicits various amused and shocked reactions from the others, but I don’t take my focus from Aggie.

“You’re attached to the guild Aunt Aggie, but I’m still considering my options and Imhotep’s behaviour didn’t endear him to me. Rather than a discussion, he jumped to a conclusion and started giving orders. I might have to learn to work with people that don’t like me, but it doesn’t mean I have to let someone walk all over me. That is not an appropriate habit for anyone to develop, especially not someone in my situation. Is it?”

“True, but if you ever need more information, please ask.”

“The guild gains more from Gailneth being a member than she gains from it,” adds Pitnari, and he gives me a nod of support.

“I need maps of the peninsula to plan my search,” I admit.

Pitnari waves my admission away. “I know cartographers, and I’ll pay their fees to get copies. Some ships travel around it to trade with the dwarven and Isil coastal settlements to the north. The maps won’t tell you about the interior but will give you the external distances.”

“Why didn’t Imhotep mention that?”

“I don’t know what he knows,” replies Pitnari with a shrug. “I know about the Isil settlements’ trade because there are Basteti tribes that live in the Isil lands.”

“I’m heading off now. I vote Pitnari washes the dishes. Nikias, let's pass the news to your family; afterwards, we’ll find Myrto.”

“See, that’s why Tove is afraid of getting hands,” declares Pitnari, but takes control of the wash bowl I’d filled with water.

Laughing, I leave him and Aggie to chat with Zosime, and it doesn’t take long to reach Nikias’ family. Their house is only a few doors further down the lane, slightly larger than Zosime’s home, and the brewery sits beside it.

I wait outside to avoid intruding while Nikias talks to his parents, taking in the village’s busy song. With nothing I need to do immediately, I twist notes into knots and fashion a pouch with a small dimensional pocket inside, enough to store a few dozen kilograms. I’ve finished the second before Nikias returns. With his old clothes no longer fitting, all he has is a sack of keep-sakes, and I hand him over the pouch. His calm expression shows it went without drama and I sigh in relief.

“It’s bigger on the inside and keyed to you so no one else can access the contents,” I say, “A minor storage item, but it can fit in more than you can carry in a decent-sized pack.”

“You’ve already given me a lot,” protests Nikias. But when I push it into his hand, he doesn't hesitate to test it with the bag he brought. At my prompting, he dips the edge into the pouch’s mouth, and the whole thing disappears.

Repeated experiments have the bag appearing and disappearing until I cut his fun short by starting on my way. At first, Nikias tries to trail me protectively, but I get him to walk alongside instead.

He gets to answer oft-repeated questions from scores of villages along the way. Some, whose suspicion had been blatant this morning, relax when they take in his garb and robust health. He frequently has to repeat Tove’s recount of my injuries from saving his life and boasts of how well I’d equipped him with clothing as well as my offer of regular pay.

The change from hostile to near familial goodwill in some almost gives me whiplash, and I find myself swamped with offers to drop by for a meal or a drink. Nikias explaining that we’re on our way to Hestia’s Temple to pay respects to Priestess Irene further raises my standing. A few grandmothers even accompany us to burn offerings of thanks for Nikias’ survival. What began with the two of us was a small procession by the time we arrived.

I’d seen the Temple’s icon from the cove but, with the view obstructed by other buildings, hadn’t seen the entire grounds. The Temple grounds are a grassed space with a few isolated shrubs scattered about, its limits seem to extend to the back of a few houses and the rear of the inn. Its song had been sour at a distance and would send me away if not for the counterpoint provided by the Temple’s melody,

The main body of the Temple is an airy two-story circular structure with a red-tiled peaked roof, the awning extending a few metres beyond the building’s wall. Around the building’s circumference, white stone pillars provide additional support to the tiled roof.

The main doors each have Hestia’s simple symbol embossed in gleaming bronze: two upright poles support a cross piece, and atop it what looks to be a pair of outward curving bull horns but actually represents the cross-section of a fire pot serving as a hearth.

Through the main doors, it’s clear the Temple provides space for scores of faithful to gather around the marble plinth at the chamber’s midpoint, which supports an ornate brazier glowing with the celestial flames within.

Off to one side of that main building is a red-roofed, one-story building of modest size but sturdy stone construction. The stone pathway between it and the Temple indicates that it's the Priestess’ quarters. The paved path is one of the few I’ve seen in the village, and I realise I hadn’t considered how well the village’s hard-packed dirt roads cope with rain.

While they’ve maintained the buildings with care, the salt air, wind, and time have left their marks upon both the Temple and priestess' home.

A shift of the light within the Temple proper makes me realise it's not just Tove’s presence causing the illumination, but other lantern archons as well, and one especially I recognise.

Nikias waits with me as I let the assorted elders move ahead to burn herbs in Hestia’s flame. Their approach catches the attention of those within the Temple, and Myrto comes out to greet us. Though, with her gaze fixed on Nikias, it's more like she comes out to check on him, and I’m just included through courtesy.

Quick jumping notes dance about within her, but they're interlaced with prickly spikes. The frequency increases when her gaze measures Nikias’ proximity to me, making me think they’re signalling jealousy. Though in that case, I don’t understand the barbed twists they take that inflict pain on her. Father warned me humans have conflicting emotions, but I’m clueless about how to untwist this mess.

“You look healthy, Nikias,” observes Myrto, and I catch the hesitation in her statement.

“Thanks to Gailneth risking herself,” Nikias states, and his words have Myrto blinking as new themes emerge within her.

“You’re both welcome to call me Gail,” I remind him, keeping my expression friendly as Myrto bounces between irritation and flustered. Drats!

“It seems more respectful to use Gailneth,” protests Nikias.

“Harder to call it out in a fight. You’ve both got the advantage of names easily said,” I explain, and Myrto blinks thoughtfully.

“With all the drama last night, what classes did you end up getting?” asks Myrto, her gaze softening as she looks again at Nikias.

“I’m not sure how to pronounce their names,” admits Nikias, and he looks to me for help. “What do they translate to, Gail?”

Quickly translating them, I simplify the names, knowing they’ll be trouble enough. “Nikias is lucky he didn’t destroy his Soul by taking them. They weren’t created or intended for humans to hold. Their names roughly translate to Royal Guard, Royal Knight, Royal Guardian, and Dedicated.”

“You saved his Soul?” breathes Myrto, and I’m glad the initial part of the news distracted her.

“I didn’t know it would happen, but my mistake placed him in danger, so I wouldn’t let him die without a fight.”

Nikias nods, making it clear he knows how close he came to dying, but I’m not sure he gets the full extent still.

Myrto breathes out slowly before giving a thoughtful nod. “I’d heard it was only a theory that classes tie to the Soul.”

“They do. It's why petitioners that get promoted to archons by their gods sometimes have the Class progress they earned in life. It depends on what memories they lose travelling the Astral Plane and the Outlands before reaching their deity’s domain.”

“How are you so certain?” asks Myrto.

Directing her attention towards Tove floating inside the Temple, I try a smile to melt some of the iciness. “I’ve inside sources of information. Ask Tove. She’ll be able to tell you of various celestials among Lerina’s regiments that started with their Prestige classes from life enfolded in their Celestial transformation.”

“I don’t know what to make of you, Gail,” admits Myrto, momentarily shamefaced. “After yesterday’s events, I had considered declining your offer to join your team. Yet Lady Hestia said she met with us because of your involvement. Who are you, Gail?”

The question comes with breathy awe rather than accusation, and I can barely contain my wince. I think I’d prefer the latter. Then overcoming her suspicion would be something I’d have earned through my deeds.

“My family and friends have lent extensive aid to Lady Hestia’s celestials and worshippers. My mother is the important one, not me.”

My explanation sets her trembling. I step in closer and put my hands on her shoulders, trying to project reassurance.

“It’s okay. I confuse lots of people. I’d like us to be friends, but I don’t seem to get off on the right foot with many people in the village. Did Lady Hestia make you a Paragon?” I ask, taking in flames flickering beneath her irises and the deep tones resonating beneath her emotions.

Myrto’s expression glows with pride, and she needs a moment to gather herself to explain. “Not quite, but the closest to it that a Mortal can get in Lady Hestia’s service and still be Mortal. My classes are now Priest, Hearth Guardian, Deity Touched, and Custodian of the Flame. She said we owe your family a debt and asked if I would help her repay them. She also speaks respectfully of you, Gail.”

That news makes me want to groan. As I scramble for what to say to tone down Goddess instilled awe, I’m glad when a distraction offers itself. A familiar Lantern Archon with Hestia’s sigil amongst her filigree flew out from the Temple and stops near Myrto’s shoulder.

“Hey, Thea! What brings you here? I thought you’d be taking advantage of Tove’s presence here to catch up a few levels.”

The slightest increase in Athena's illumination—nearly lost in the early afternoon sunlight—is the only sign of her amusement. “Your presence, Gailneth. Since Irene’s novice agreed to accompany you, Hestia assigned me to assist Irene.”

Thea’s statement has Myrto trembling in awe again, and her skin darkens with embarrassment. Myrto's gaze focuses on Thea, and she turns to give her a respectful bow. “Thea? That isn’t the name you gave Irene to use. Which name would you prefer, Archon?”

“Either is fine, Novice Myrto.”

I mind my manners and let her answer before I give Myrto a wink. “Thea can be a tad formal.”

My aside flusters Myrto, but Thea gets in before she can reply.

“Lady Hestia is aware of your plan to offer to refurbish her Temple here and asked me to convey her appreciation for any efforts you might spare for damaged sites.”

When a chest hits the ground beneath Thea with a jingle of coins, Myrto’s mouth falls open. It seems I’m not the only one bad at blending in, but Athena has an excuse, since she never had to worry about it before her reduced state.

Quickly securing the chest, I give her a sheepish smile. “Tove told on me, didn’t she?”

“She did indeed, and Ras quickly forwarded the news to Lady Hestia. Or were your intentions misunderstood?”

“No, they weren’t,” I admit wryly. “I planned to travel a bit after I’m done, so I’ll get location details later. Hestia knows I gain experience from creating things, doesn’t she?”

Giving a soft laugh at my question, Thea starts to drift back towards where Irene and Tove are speaking.

Myrto looks back at me, and her complexion darkens with embarrassment. “You speak to celestials so casually, and you said Thea’s formal, but she seems friendly to you.”

“I’ve known her a few years. The filigree of different lantern archons is discernible with practice. My mother has regular contact with celestials in service to Hestia and Lerina—she’s been working to spread their faith to new worlds. Tove was the first Lantern Archon I spent much time with when I was younger.”

“Worlds?” gasps Myrto, and Nikias puts a hand on her shoulder.

“There are thousands of worlds in the Titan’s realm,” I offer casually, and Myrto inhales sharply. “Sorry, it seems I’m continually rocking people’s understanding here; I’ll try to limit the revelations to a few a day.”

“I don’t know if you’re serious or not. Why do I think our village will never be the same for you being here?” asks Myrto after a moment’s consideration.

“Not teasing. I’ve been to eight different worlds. Hopefully, you all find the changes for the better,” I reply, and with the silence that settles over them both, I figure that’s enough for the day.

Myrto finally coughs and rubs her neck. “The way you said that sounds like you’ve got more changes planned.”

“I’ll admit this is completely selfish, but I realised that with all the village’s dirt roads I’m going to be wading through mud come the winter rains, aren’t I?”

Myrto starts to retort but stops with her mouth pursed and continues after a brief consideration. “I heard at the Guildhall you just appeared right out front the other day. Was that your capability, or did someone teleport you?”

“I did that,” I admit freely.

“The mud won’t inconvenience you at all, will it?” asks Myrto, and I catch the first hint of amusement I’ve seen from her.

“Walking around is nice, but not so nice when you’ve got muddy roads trying to suck the boots off your feet,” I state, deliberately giving her a forlorn expression.

“Your excuse for the effort seems fairly shallow,” observes Myrto.

Giving a playful gasp, I wink to ensure she knows I’m joking. “That’s mean. Why are you calling me shallow?”

Myrto goes to refute my teasing but stops and warily considers my sudden smile. “What have you gotten us into, Nikias?”

“Us?”

“You don’t think I’m going to leave you unsupervised in Gail’s service, do you? If I did that, you’d be forever getting into trouble,” snorts Myrto.

“I can take care of myself,” protests Nikias obliviously.

My conspiratorial smile has her blush again, and we both start laughing. Our merry non-mocking tones soon have him joining in.

“How about we look after each other?” I ask at last and put out a hand to shake.

Myrto turns it over and places hers flat on top, and Nikias follows her example. “Agreed.”

With the word unintentionally echoing between us, our shared laughter resumes and beckons over Priestess Irene. The grandmothers, charmed by the celestials' presence, don’t even notice her departure.

Unlike Myrto's practical grab, Irene wears loose white cotton robes that cover most of her body, including a shawl that covers all but a hint of a brunette fringe. Her oval face and sturdy features show delicate ageing, lines that give her a motherly feel when she smiles and the laugh lines around her eyes deepen.

Coughing to still my amusement, I can’t do the same to my smile when I wave hello. “Priestess Irene, my apologies for any disruption I caused you this morning.”

“This morning brought such benefit to the village that I’d welcome thousands of such disruptions. It was good that you let us know in advance, though perhaps the day prior might have been best.”

“Not sure I can manage a thousand equal benefits, maybe a few dozen,” I reply, keeping my tone dry.

“A few dozen?” asks Myrto, and she gives an embarrassed frown. “Priestess Irene, might I introduce you to Gailneth, or Gail as she prefers to be called? Gail, this is Priestess Irene of Hestia’s service.”

Giving her a sheepish smile eases her frown away. “Sorry for jumping past the introductions, Myrto.”

Irene steps forward to clasp my arm in greeting, her expression aglow with a reverence that makes me uncomfortable. “When Tove led us to her Domain, Lady Hestia met with us and spoke favourably of you.”

At Irene’s statement, Myrto nods excitedly, and the hidden flames in both their gazes are momentarily visible. The same deep notes resonating within Myrto pulse along my skin from Irene’s touch.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Gail, and I bid you welcome. I’ll be assuring the village that they should welcome you and treat you with all due respect,” says Irene.

“That’s very kind of you, but it's not needed, honestly,” I say and continue before she can protest. “I’m really trying to stand on my own two feet, and I’ve already got family and friends, wanting to prop me up.”

My explanation stills her fervour somewhat, and she nods in understanding

“I will at least reassure them you are always welcome at Hestia’s temple,” states Irene, and she nods again when I smile in relief. “Would you clarify something for me?”

“That depends on what you need. I’m told I can be a bit of a know-it-all, but I don’t know everything.”

Irene gives me a reassuring smile before she explains. “Among the priesthood of Hestia, there is a tale of a pair of her servants battered, cursed, and dying after a dire battle. They came upon a small shrine to Amdirlain where a Lantern Archon by the name of Tove shattered the curses laid by a High Priest that should have killed them both. Do you know if Tove is that same Lantern Archon now in service to Lerina? I asked, and she wouldn’t stop giggling.”

With my amusement still bubbling from the earlier laughter, the question draws forth fresh gales of laughter. When she sighs in frustration, I hold up a hand and get myself under control.

“That sounds like something Tove could do, and her giggles suggest the tale is true but exaggerated.”

Irene gives a satisfied nod and lowers her voice. “Tales always become exaggerated, so someone claiming a lesser deed often tells the truth. Do you think it's out of place if I ask her why she’s still a Lantern Archon since she’s so strong? She opened a Gate directly to Hestia’s domain. That’s something I would have expected of a High Priest in Hestia’s service, not a relatively minor Celestial of another goddess.”

The curiosity within her reminds me of Sage and his never-ending recording of knowledge. “Are you a bit of a scholar of the planes, Priestess Irene?”

“I studied for a time at a Temple with an extensive library, but when I returned to help the village, I only had funds for a few texts,” admits Irene.

“Well, there is a very serious reason for it, I’m afraid. If Tove takes the offered transformation, someone might get her to wash dishes,” I whisper and hold up my hands when I receive a chiding look from Irene that would have done mother proud. “That's the reason she gives every time anyone asks, honest. Hold up.”

Waving for Tove’s attention, I raise my voice. “Tove!”

Tove teleports right beside me and squeals. “Gail!”

“Priestess Irene doesn’t believe you’ve been turning down transformations because you don’t want to risk washing dishes.”

“They’re the worst. Why would I ever risk it? I'm not risking dish duty. Since I have everything else I want as a Lantern Archon, I’d rather refuse the transformation,” insists Tove, and she changes the subjects in a rush. “Are you going to pretty the place up?”

“Refurbishing is the priority, but I’ll only make changes acceptable to Hestia’s ways,” I say, resisting the urge to laugh at Tove’s excitement. “Priestess Irene, what would you like to see done?”

“Please, just call me Irene. Lady Hestia has already said you’d likely see the best changes to make,” demurs Irene.

“I have dozens of ideas, but you know the village better. The question is: do you want to restore the current Temple and become more resilient to wear, or have something larger?” I ask. “Especially considering the changes I’ve made to the cove and Lerina’s Temple. People will come to the village because of the cove, the Guildhall, and Lerina’s Temple. Do you miss reading at that library?”

“Yes, but why?”

“I’m just asking. You seemed keen to learn more.”

The solid foundation music of Hestia’s Temple makes me wish it was possible to have help from one of the Lómë Glinnel. However, since the material is a common stone, it's unnecessary.

Listening to the building, I almost start singing but offer a smile to Irene instead. “This won’t hurt the Temple, but we should wait until they’ve finished burning the offering to Hestia. How about I show you some sketches while we wait?”

“Hestia tends not to like ornate decorations,” says Irene, and Myrto nods in agreement. Certainly, the practical and comfortable buildings around Hestia’s Domain make other domains look gaudy.

“Hearth, home, and security are important enough not to need grand theatrics.”

My statement gets a smile from them both. While they watch, I put together sketches. An expanse of their house, subtle ornamentation for the Temple’s outer pillar, and gathering spots around the exterior. I got the biggest reaction when I put together a sketch of a furnished reading room.

Irene inhales excitedly but then immediately sighs. “We’d never be able to find funds to fill a library the size.”

“I’ll take care of that, Irene. Let me know the topics you’d want in your library.”

Releasing a series of echoing notes gives me a feel for the ground beneath the Temple proper, and I make some adjustments to the sketches.