Mom did get it. I was a little worried, because I had yet to find the time to speak to her as well, but she welcomed Kishirra in with a huge smile and she seemed alright with her presence.
More than alright, in fact.
They were already sharing recipes.
“I usually allow meat to spoil just a little bit,” Kishirra explained, tracing a circle in the air. “The outside patina helps keep the inside fresher for much longer. Also, I have always used salt from Madua as a way to preserve it better.”
Field recipes.
“Salt is so expensive around here!” Mom opened her arms in exasperation. “The southern shores get brackish water, but there’s not enough to fulfil demand, and trade takes forever anyway!”
“Trade is a dangerous business,” Kishirra replied with a frown. “The allure of silver is powerful and it can cloud even the strongest heart. That is why we are supposed to only rely on ourselves and Ansàrra, because in our nakedness we know each other better.”
I choked on a piece of vegetable pie at those words – but Kishirra was as serious and wholesome as ever, and Mom just rolled her eyes at her words of wisdom.
“That works for your basic needs, but sometimes people want to enjoy something nice. Then you have to rely on others, and you can’t do it all on your own.”
“Look at them,” Dad chuckled, setting his arms over his stomach as we watched the two women discuss. “They are in their own little world.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at him using the same words Mom did just a few days before.
And they couldn’t be more different: Mom was indeed a trader, and she would have been a great manager in my old world, while Kishirra really tried to deal with merchants as little as possible. Her religion evidently did not look up on material possessions.
In fact, it turned out that the only things she owned were her weapons, clothing and armour, and a dwindling collection of coins.
“I get my stipend every three months from a courier from Madua,” she explained Mom as they shared another cup of herbal infusion. Kishirra put the cup to her lips and smiled. “Your concoction is as amazing as ever, Madama.”
“Oh, it’s not even my own recipe,” she replied grinning in my direction.
Kishirra blinked, but seemed to ignore the implications. Oh, thank god, she was ignoring the implications!
“We understand that the world answers to different rules outside of the Holy Land. We do not like it, but we do believe in letting other people and countries come to the embrace of Ansàrra on their own. It was how it happened with me.”
“How did it happen?” Mom inquired. Kishirra’s jaw stiffened – and I took that as my cue.
“Uh, Mom, actually, given you have brought up my herbs, do you mind if I show Kishirra the garden a little more? I wanted her to show the plants I’m going to pick up tomorrow!”
She shared a look with Dad and nodded.
“I certainly do not mind. Leave the door open, though.”
Covering my face, I almost threw Kishirra out of her chair and pushed her through the corridors. She was still holding the foaming cup in her hands when we reached the garden. By now it was night, so I lit up a few torches to see a little better (and to show Mom and Dad we were not going to do anything weird).
I crouched next to a patch of thin blue flowers with five petals each.
“Sorry about that. Mom gets curious about everything.”
“I certainly did not take that as an offense.” Kishirra sat on the closest moss-covered rock, watching me as I sifted through the flowers.
“These are girenas. They are good to treat headaches and they taste sweet. Mom said they grow aplenty on the hills right behind Bùrian.”
We sifted for a few moments through the silence, as it stretched between our breaths.
“You seem more troubled than I am,” I said looking at her, so dejected. She had recovered a bit during dinner, only to fall into a troubled mutism once alone. I hoped it wasn’t due to my presence.
“I could say that Mannish eyes rarely see this deep and far,” she sighed. “Nevertheless, I think it has more to do with how miserable I feel right now.” She reached for her pendant, taking it out from beneath her clothes. “I fear I may have failed my Quest. I had fought, and was bested in battle – and I have shown my true colours as a truly selfish person. Ansàrra has no room by her side for those such as I am. The wasting will take me, and I will go the way of cinders.”
“What happened?” I looked at Kishirra, and then a glint of crimson caught my attention. The red caramalia. It wasn’t even supposed to sprout at this time of the year, but it was meaningful. Something that could help right at this moment. I picked it up and turned to face her. Even at the flickering golden light of torches, her complexion had once again that ash-like tone. “It could not be your fault. A defeat in battle is nothing, it happens to the best of us.” I felt like words slipped from my grasp like they were covered in oil. “You can’t give up now.”
“It was not the defeat on the field that mattered,” she whispered, her voice as thin as the first ice of winter. “It was the truth of the matter that shook me. I am just doing this to save my own soul, and my faith is all but a pantomime. I have failed my Test. I will go back to the Holy Land with my tails between my legs and beg for forgiveness and trouble all of you no more.”
“Being a little selfish is okay,” I countered. Leaning forward, I put the red flower in her palm, next to the pendant. “This is a caramalia. It’s a rare flower, especially at this time of the year, it usually grows right in the middle of winter – it’s a small one, you see, but it has a beautiful deep red colour, and it sprouts through the thickest cover of snow. No matter how harsh the winter is, we can always see a patch of two of these red beauties peeking through the ice.”
I closed my hand around hers. Her skin was as smooth as always, and it trembled slightly.
“What does ‘okay’ mean?”
“Uh… it means that’s fine. That’s alright. Sorry… old habit.”
“What you are saying is that snow has come for me and I may yet sprout through it like this flower, carrying on to my duty even through my weakness and lack of proper faith?”
“I was going to tell you to just leg it, but I’m afraid that would sound a little too weird,” I chuckled. “More of my weird lines and phrases from the other world. I’ll put it this way. If this little flower has all it needs to carry through, I’m sure our brave Knight does as well.”
Kishirra’s frown deepened. Her lips parted, closed again. Words seemed to be stuck to her throat.
“Hey, if nothing else, you surely helped me sprout through the snow. I’m sure it must count for something.”
Kishirra blinked. Bit by bit, that ashen pallor withdrew from her skin. The ghost of a smile danced on her lips.
“Mayhap.”
+++
Kishirra did not get much sleep that night. Her kind did not need long rests anyway – they had been made with the purpose to please and to entertain. And even now that their former masters had disappeared into the cracks of history, their bodies and souls remembered their purpose.
She prayed, palms opened to the dark sky. Lugana had left for her room hours ago, and her parents had been gracious enough to allow her to stay in their garden. The biting cold of the advancing autumn did not bother her skin.
Her mind went to her latest battle. She got almost all of her protection broken, and she had been so close to losing even her weapon.
If you were truly selfless, your Ansàrra would have recognized it by now, said that smoky female voice, now only in her memories.
Her hands were empty – and she missed the feeling of Lugana’s fingers. To think that someone so ephemeral could comfort her almost as well as the embrace of Ansàrra.
Would her words ring true as well? Was she allowed a tiny bit of selfishness if it meant proving her valour in the long run?
She was sent there to rid the land of this great evil. The ghastly woman who commandeered the chalk creatures was a servant of the Seven Sisters, an emissary of the demons that had shattered the world and destroyed her Kiengiri precursors.
That would be reason enough to ger rid of her.
But she felt like something was still amiss.
“Perhaps I will understand it when the time comes.”
If only she understood what her Test actually was. Fighting day on end? Killing every single Chalker?
She sighed.
Perhaps it was just like Lugana had said. She was not worth – but she could have faith in someone else.
It might just be barely enough.
And with that hopeful ember burning in her chest, Kishirra finally allowed herself to close her eyes and get some rest.
+++
Deep, deep, deep, other hands did not get any rest. The mass of broiling Chalkers gnawed and scratched at the earth. With each moment, they dug a wider tunnel, they branched out beneath and around the hills, surrounding the city of Bùrian.
And behind them stood the same woman – she allowed herself a triumphant smirk, even as she passed her fingers over her flaking body. It would not last much longer.
But soon she would have something better to replace it with. Pushing the faith and hope out of that boorish Knight had taken its toll on her patience, but her job was almost over.
She was alone, she was scared and broken.
And all she had to was point out the contradiction in her reasons for being here.
Her grin stretched wider as the tiny blue gem embedded inside her chest like a bead of quarts amidst tree roots gleamed even brighter. A corpse-light that only made the shadows in the tunnel stand out even darker.
One of her flaking fingers brushed against its cold surface.
Soon, everything would find its proper place.
It had tried many bodies so far.
None of them lasted more than a few years. But this was a bit of a special occasion, after all. Rather than preying on unsuspecting villagers getting lost in the hills, it had a real prize to look forward to.
Months of planning just to provide this chance. It would be worth it.
Mannish bodies were so frail.
But Elves had been made to last.
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