Chapter 51: Things That Can’t Be Hidden

Kalender watched Page as she walked beside him, eyes downcast, head tilted five degrees off the vertical. She was watching intently for cobbles in the road that jutted far out enough to catch a foot.

“Are you sure it didn’t do anything? Anything at all?” he asked.

Page looked up to him and smiled. “Yep! Totally sure! Nothing happened!”

Kalender answered her smile with his own. After a second, Page looked forwards again, then down. This wasn’t any good.

They followed the main road going south until they reached the plaza. Kalender turned towards the plaza instead of passing it, and Page unquestioningly followed. They crossed it and stopped in front of the castle wall’s gate. The wall itself was three stories high, dominating the two-story buildings in the area.

Page realized they’d stopped and she finally looked up.

“Wait, why are we here?” she asked.

“You’ve been out of it ever since we left Stylus House,” he said.

“You, there! State your business or begone!”

They looked up to see a guard leaning over the battlements. She was holding her helmet to the side, and she was just as armored as the other sentries who had enough steel on them that they looked like they could take a trebuchet shot and live.

“We’re here to see the Lord!” Kalender replied. “It’s about Stylus House!”

The guard squinted. “What’s five times thirteen!”

Huh. Kalender, completely caught unprepared by the math quiz, took a few seconds to sort out the numbers in his head. “Sixty-five!” he replied … with an itchy doubt. It’s sixty-five, right? 50 plus 15 is 65, right!?

The gate lowered in response. It was strange for it to be a drawbridge when there wasn’t a moat here—or maybe there used to be, and they just didn’t bother to change out a perfectly functional gate.

The guard approached them, her headgear on, now. Kalender and Page were giving her weird looks about the question.

“Just a basic education check. Filters out most of the troublemakers,” she explained. “Please come this way.”

The guard passed them off to another guard just after they passed the gate, and once they reached the door to the castle itself, they got passed to yet another guard who led them through the doors and to an antechamber, where they were made to wait.

“Today’s busy,” the guard told them. “M’Lord might not be able to see you, but we’ll send for someone to check with him, just in case.”

All Kalender could think was, “How oddly relaxed of them.” There was constant traffic of Maids, Guards, and more Maids on the way here, but they all walked with known destinations in mind. There felt no chaos, which spoke volumes about the ability of whoever was managing the castle’s daily operations.

The lax security arrangements might be a different beast, though—or were half the Maids here actually Combat Maids?

Speak of the devil, the door opened and there was a Maid. Kalender jerked in his seat, which drew strange looks from Page and the Maid.

“M’Lord will see you, now. Please follow me.”

***

Shal-yen greeted the two as they entered the receiving room. He frowned. “It doesn’t seem that you’re here for a social visit.” The Maid had told him it was about Stylus House. “What happened?”

Kalender told him about the magic that hit Page. The girl herself adamantly denied anything bad happening.

She just thought … Three’s message was telling her to trust Kalender. Didn’t she already trust him? Did Three’s magic figure out that she didn’t really trust him?

“There you go again,” Kalender said. Page looked up, surprised.

“I’m telling you, it’s nothing!” … that she wanted to talk about. She had to work through it alone. Kalender shouldn’t be concerned with something like this.

Shal-yen buried his chin in his hand. He’d sworn to his father never to speak of Three to anyone, but if her magic was doing something to an acquaintance, a diminutive remark should be fine.

“It shouldn’t be anything drastic,” he concluded. “If it is Three’s magic, there are no negative effects. Well, they could be strange, but you best not worry.”

***

The two had gone, saying something about finding a place to unwind. Shal-yen had seen them off, but as soon as they had gone, he ran back to his bedroom and opened the secret safe behind the headboard.

It wasn’t exactly “secret” since everyone knew to look behind paintings and headboards, and under carpets and in the nooks of fireplaces, but it was as safe and nigh-uncrackable as it could be.

He fished out his father’s journal, flipping through pages until he landed on one detailing what Three’s magic was doing in that room.

He’d found the journal in Aunt Case’s penmaking workshop, hidden under a faux panel in one of the drawers. It was so obvious!

Three’s gift, however, wasn’t so obvious. The journal read:

“Honestly, I didn’t really ask which one she ended up putting, but there were really only two candidates: Seed of Wisdom, or Seed of Binding. The first one’s some sort of friendly demon magic, and the second one’s some sort of soul magic. Kinda obvious how she got the first one, but the woman’s playing conspiracy about the second. I don’t think it’s anything too bad, though.”

Shal-yen felt a headache coming on. His father’s “not too bad” was this era’s “the goddesses tread upon Gaia once again,” and he didn’t know how to deal with that.

He thought back to Page, and how the girl was—pretty nice, overall, actually. How would she turn out with demon magic, or soul magic? Hopefully, a total klutz, because any amount of competency in either magic would be utterly terrifying, and it’d bring the Inquisition down here in a heartbeat.

***

Kalender resisted forcing things out of Page, or else he’d risk being like a certain kind of parent who enforced vulnerability rather than whispered it; the earlier was the root of many a contemptuous, insincere emotional quagmire that he would rather not cast over anyone.

He led her towards the rooftop cafe. She was still being a follower, her arms crossed as she walked, and her eyes tracing the cracks on the ground.

He stopped and brushed her hair with his hand. Startled, she halted right before she bumped into him. “W-what are you doing…”

“There was a leaf,” he said. There was no leaf. There weren’t even any trees around. He continued brushing her hair, straightening it as if he was the one responsible for messing it up somehow.

Even if Page’s mind still doubted, the seed of a strange calm had already been planted.

At the least, she didn’t push him away.

He offered her an arm. Without looking, she held onto it.

Like that, they found their way to the building where the rooftop cafe was located.

“I just remembered something,” Kalender said. “This building’s apparently a bookstore. Is that…” He tilted his head towards the two guards by the double doors. “… normal?”

Page looked up. “Oh. Well, it’s normal for a bookstore to have at least one guard. If it’s this big, I guess it makes sense?”

As they ascended the stairs to the cafe, Kalender asked, “Why?”

“Well—books are expensive.”

“Expensive like jewelry?”

“Ah, not that expensive. It’s just—Librarians and such exist.”

Kalender gave a blank stare.

Page continued, “So … I can copy entire pages with a single glance.”

Enlightenment caressed Kalender’s face. They were protecting against a different kind of theft.

“So you’re not allowed in there?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m totally allowed. I’m an above-ground Librarian.”

“Implying the existence of underground Librarians?”

Page smiled. Finally, she smiled. “Uh-huh.” She kinda wished she was underground, actually. The thought elicited a [+1 Excitement].

They reached the top. There were three or four patrons at the moment, not a lot, but that was perfect. They ordered their drinks at the bar, slid over some coin, and found their seats, overlooking the town and the Monster Wall far beyond—a forest strangely too lush for an area this far north.

The familiar being close by, and the alien so far beyond—it had always been the life of Page. She was just a word in a sentence, contained in a single passage. She found herself in different places from time to time, but never on her own, and never, exactly, of her own choice.

It looked just like this, that day, when she ran away from home. One might argue that that was still a choice she made—but one could also say that it was a choice that she was forced to make, under the circumstances of her life in that house.

It wasn’t bad, really. She had three meals, snacks, tea, and books. It was just … too controlled.

To be anything other than what her mothers and father told her to be. She just wanted that. When she looked at anyone worse off than her, she felt her wish was too small to be taken seriously—but still! Wasn’t it really simple? Why was it so hard…

Coffee arrived, and silence passed. Kalender wasn’t asking her anything. She was sure he would, but silence was good, too.

They were seated across each other. She was about to say something, and Kalender picked up on it, looking to her with raised eyebrows, but she swiftly turned away. She cursed herself for leaving him hanging—but she really didn’t know what to say!

No, no, I can salvage this. She stood up and brought her chair right beside his. She sat down, rummaging through her pockets, then pulled out something to show to Kalender. It was a comb.

He slowly held out his palm, as if he was yet unsure what it was for. Only when it was finally in his hand, and Page’s own hand returned to cupping her coffee, her eyes side-glancing at him, did he blink and understand what it was she wanted.

Well, just hands made a poor comb, after all.

He started combing her hair in careful strokes, being careful with the knots, which he undid with the smallest teeth, teasing out the tension, until they made relaxed loops that he could tease apart with his own hands.

They spent some minutes in silence just like this.

Couldn’t they stay like this forever? [-1 Excitement]

For a moment, Kalender’s hands stopped. They continued moving again, but even Page noticed how it seemed as if he had been able to read her thoughts—and yet, he said nothing about it. [-2 Excitement]

When no one spoke, silence did. Kalender didn’t allow Page to think that he didn’t care. His hands grew softer, slower—more deliberate. It was like a gentle breeze to her.

“My birth mother used to do this for me,” she said.

“Combing your hair?”

“Yeah.” [-1 Excitement]. She giggled. “To think the next person to do so would be a man.”

“Your dad never did this?”

“Why would he? He was busy.” [-2 Excitement]

Kalender frowned. “How about your sisters?”

“Hmm, well… I’m not sure if I was ever close with any of them” — [-2 Excitement] — “but I guess Shine was nice to me.”

Kalender smoothed out a knot in her hair before he continued. “She give you a flower?”

“Something like that.” She smiled. [-1 Excitement]. “I think she was the only one who’s ever really tried to talk to me.” [-5 Excitement]. She chuckled. “Why are you digging up these memories out of me all of a sudden, huh?”

Although she lightly punched him in the shoulder, she couldn’t hide how some part of her meant what she’d said.

She didn’t expect an answer out of it. Instead, the combing stopped, and before she could turn around to see what was wrong, Kalender’s forehead bumped against the back of her head. She heard the air rush out of his nose. It was a sound so unbelievably close to her.

Excitement be damned, it was just an emotion. It was just an emotion, so it was okay to let it slip away. He sought something deeper, and just at the cost of some temporary feeling? Why … why not.

“It just never felt like I knew you,” he said. [-10 Excitement]. “So I’m fixing that.” [ ? ].

Too drowned in the moment, neither noticed the change.

“I don’t know if it’s because you’ve been trying to hide it from me,” he continued. “I don’t know if they’re things you desperately want to leave behind. I want to respect how you deal with those things, but sometimes, I’m just too curious about who you are, where you came from. And I don’t even know those things.”

Kalender lifted his head and put his hands back to work. He’d messed up her hair again by bumping it. A part of her wished he didn’t move away.

“It … wasn’t really like I was trying to hide things,” she said. “It’s just, why should anyone be sad? I don’t like how I grew up”—[ :( ]—“If I bring it up, I’ll be sad remembering it, and you’ll be sad hearing about it. Or, I could just … not talk about it, and we’ll just be like normal. Isn’t it obvious what I should do?”

“But if you do that”—Kalender’s hands stopped—“you’ll feel alone, won’t you?”

“How am I alone when I’m with you?”

“It’s dangerous to be alone in your own head,” he replied. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

Page chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ve never met anyone like you,” she said. “Sometimes I think I might love you.” [ ?! ]. Her eyes widened. “I mean, I—like, not really love, but, something like—um—I really care about you! Super! B-but not—”

“I get what you mean.” Kalender just laughed. “I care about you a lot, too.”

Page pouted. She wanted to hear something else—

“I love you, too,” he said, ruffling her hair, artificially inducing more hair combing demand.* Ah, I should tell Jyn that, sometime,* he thought.

Page, meanwhile, almost squealed. “W-what are you saying!” [ ! ].

“No good?”

“It’s like you’re proposing to me!”

Kalender laughed. “That so?”

Page sighed. ‘Proposing’ —her own words made her recount Helma’s advice from just yesterday. It went something like "Marry him already, you fool," but she couldn’t remember the specifics.

Besides, why would she need to marry him at this point? It was strange, but there was a weight lifted off her chest that she didn’t even know was there. Helma said something about bonding. Was this supposed to be the effect of that? Bonding was nice. They should go bonding more often.

Ah, but the original concern wasn’t nullified. They’d have to split ways some day. She didn’t want that.

“I just don’t want to see you go,” she said with a sigh, before realizing the words even escaped her lips. She covered her mouth.

Kalender’s hands stopped. “And why would I go?”

“Because … every adventure has to end, right?”

“End where?”

“I mean, we could die, or … mission accomplished, and we all go our separate ways.”

“Huh?” In his confusion, Kalender unconsciously shifted to braiding her hair. “And … why can’t I see you every so often?”

“I mean … you want a family, right? You’re definitely getting married, right?” she continued. “What if your wives fight me? You’ll probably have so many kids, you’d lose count! You won’t have time for … me.” [ :( ].

Kalender perked an eyebrow. There was a mismatch of imagination going on here. “Why would she fight you?”

“Because maybe I’d be getting ‘too close’ to you? …”

Kalender shook his head. “I don’t wanna see anyone I care about fighting each other.” It’s supposed to be a life filled with love.

“But, what if she did?”

“I’d fight her.”

Page’s head visibly recoiled. “But that’s your wife!”

“I’m not marrying anyone who doesn’t understand what sort of person I am, and least of all, not someone who doesn’t understand how deeply I can commit to caring about others, so if she fights you, fully-knowing just who you are to me, then it’s my job to set things straight.”

All Page was hearing was "You’re more important to me than some hypothetical wife!" and she just couldn’t understand.

On the other hand, she was important to him. Maybe she should let that sink in first.

’ … fully-knowing just who you are to me,’ was it? But, who was she to him?

“But what … who am I to you?” she asked.

Kalender thought for a moment … which disappointed Page. Her sense of conversational dramaticism yearned for only a momentary pause before a climactic answer, but instead, he was formulating something more exacting—more precise.

He couldn’t find a word for it, or at least, not one that Lyrican had an equivalent for. He had to take a step back and dissect all the emotional concepts revolving around them this moment: care and happiness; companionship and togetherness. What word, what ancient word, filled the hole that Lyrican made when he asked it what two people were, when the emotions were care and happiness; companionship and togetherness? What word for a pair like them, a word sculpted down to the core, created the antithesis of loneliness?

Friend? Close friend? True friend? Best friend? Nothing comes close. He pinged the wisdom of All-Language Fluency with what he suspected of the language of Lyrica: a history of a melding of peoples who, in some distant past, came together and founded a magical kingdom, where life was hardy and plain.

Jyn and Page—two names constructed very differently. Djarren Yal, too, was such a different name. Lyrican was a spawn of these two peoples’ joining, two peoples who once spoke different tongues. Which one held the word he wanted?

It came to him. Cyrraia—a friend of the heart.

“Cyrraia?” he said.

Page perked an eyebrow. “You mean Selleia?” She chuckled. “Did you look through my children’s books Collection? Though, I guess she’s a pretty good metaphor…”

To be someone who loved all equally, and yet, uniquely, it wasn’t a bad metaphor at all.

It was an old children’s story, old enough that scholars debated it. Some argued that Selleia was one who “touched all” rather than “loved all,” as she affected more people on her journey more times than people had affected her—yet there was a minority who believed that the affections were equal, and that, simply, the majority did not regard most acts portrayed in the story as “love” at all.

Kal handed back her comb. She pocketed it with one hand, and felt her hair with the other, finding, to her surprise, then to her delight, that it had a few token lengths of braids. Selleia had a braid as well, didn’t she? It was one she had received from a child, around the middle of the story, if Page remembered correctly.

Scholars debated why she’d flown into a rage when the antagonist managed to cut that braid in twain. Now, Page knew why.

Would Kal also get mad for her sake? Ah, he did just say that, didn’t he? He’d fight his would-be wife for the sake of preserving their bonds. Actually, wasn’t that even more courageous than facing down a Demon Lord?

Silence wafted between them, as did the aroma of coffee beans, reminding them that they had coffee. Their cups had gone cold. Kalender summoned some ice cubes for them both.

“Kal. Why?”

He perked up an eyebrow. “It’s … iced coffee?”

“Is this … a Reincarnator thing?”

Kalender put his cup down. “Are you telling me, for hundreds of years, in this place where ice magic and coffee exist in the same timeline, that no one’s thought of icing their coffee?”

Page laughed. She stared down at the cup of iced coffee in her hand, and, even if it was weird, she took a sip.

It was the same coffee, but with just one little change, it was different.