CHAPTER 16

“See, you’re doing great!” Seeker promised, as Lanri paced up and down the corridor just outside of their room. The Heartwarden was seemingly always two paces behind her, ready to catch her. After several bouts of practice, her forearms were trembling, and she was soaked in sweat.

“Ihf… I’hm… doing soh… great…” she began, then paused and leaned against one of the corridors’ pleasantly cool stone walls. She let out a relieved sigh when she did so. “Why are you just standing there, waiting to catch me?”

“Because I can tell how exhausted you are, Dear. You’re still healing, and this would be pretty physically demanding for anyone.”

Lanri moved one of the crutches into the opposite hand and winced from a sudden pang of pain when the instrument stopped putting pressure on her sore and bruised armpit. With her now empty hand, she wiped some sweat from her forehead, and looked down at the remains of her right leg. “This is just… awful, Seeker.”

“I know, Dear,” Seeker agreed as she leaned against the wall, right next to her. “If it gets to be too much, though…”

“Yeah, I know.” And she did know. If she panicked badly enough, or completely succumbed to despair because of this, she knew Seeker would intervene. She would prefer if she didn’t, but knew it was futile to argue that Seeker should just leave her to be in pain.

“You’ll overcome this. You mortals can adapt to anything.”

Lanri let out a humorless laugh. “No, we can’t. Plenty of us just… break from stuff like this.”

“I’m not about to let you break, Dear.”

“I know, but–”

“No. No but. You’re tough as nails. I know everything that’s happened to you is beyond difficult, but you came through all of it. This won’t be any different.”

“Yes it will!” Lanri threw one of her crutches at the mosaic floor, and it clattered to a rest in front of her. The sound bounced off the ends of the corridor for several seconds, forcing her to wait, and think about what she’d say next. “I… Everything…” She wanted to somehow compare this to losing Faron, but she couldn’t find, or didn’t care to find the words.

Seeker sighed and picked up the crutch. “Now’s not the time for you to evaluate your life, Dear. You’re exhausted and stressed. Let’s get you to bed.”

Lanri crossed her arms, and frowned. “I’m not tired.” Gods, she must look like a sulking child, she realized.

“I wasn’t asking,” said Seeker as she offered the crutch back to Lanri. “You need to rest, and you’re going to. Healing spells aren’t all-powerful, you know that. They took a toll on you, a big one. You need to recuperate all of that energy, and a few days on a bench in a cramped carriage just isn’t that.”

Lanri sighed and nodded as she took the crutch. In a purely academic sense, she might have been able to think of an excuse to challenge Seeker on this. But she just didn’t want to. Not now, not ever. She winced as she put her weight on the walking aids, but decided then and there that she would at least get to bed without help. She grunted as she pushed herself off from the wall, and took the first step towards their room.

She made it two more before her arm gave out, and she collapsed into the wall again. “FUCK!” She yelled, as she hit one of the crutches against it with all of her strength. “I–I KNOW THIS IS TEMPORARY, BUT…” She trailed off, and looked up at Seeker. “I should at least be able to get to bed without help.”

Seeker sighed, and gave her a patient smile. “You aren’t used to using your arms like this, Dear. This would have been heavy exercise for you no matter how healthy and rested you were.”

Lanri waved her off and pushed herself off from the wall again, only to barely stumble to the one opposite it. She grunted in frustration, and tried again to find her footing.

“Lanri, please. You’re going to hurt yourself like that, let me help,” said Seeker as she put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve done enough for today. I think I’ll just–”

“I’m fine!” said Lanri, as she managed to come close to getting back into a decent stride. But she was just so exhausted. She wasn’t tired per se, at least not in the sense that she could sleep. But she was drained. The exertion was getting to her. But, she was making progress. Which is why when Seeker suddenly grabbed her by both arms, she yelped “hey, what gives?”

“Stop that!”

“Stop what? You just told me to get to bed.”

“Oh, you know better than to argue the letter rather than the spirit like that! I told you to rest. You’re liable to hurt yourself. I know this is hard, Lanri, I can feel it oozing from you. But you’re pushing yourself too hard, too quickly.”

“Oh, who gives a–”

“I do! I give a shit, Lanri. Maybe it’s not fair of me to demand that you don’t hurt yourself because I’m vicariously along for the ride, but I just don’t see what else I could do. I will not let you make this so hard on yourself!”

Lanri didn’t have an answer to that. She supposed Seeker was right, though. She knew she’d already passed the point where pushing herself harder would stop actually helping her. She sighed, and nodded at Seeker. “Will you help me, then?”

“Of course I will,” Seeker answered with a smile, as she let Lanri’s arms go, and helped her the rest of the distance to their room.

________________

Lanri let out a groan as she settled onto the bed. Her muscles were sore, her knees and elbows hurt from the few times she’d fallen, and the palms of her hands hurt almost as much as her armpits. She watched Seeker put her crutches up against the night stand next to her with a look on her face that bordered on resentment.

“What’s wrong?”

“These are a little too big for you, I think,” Seeker told her. Lanri cocked her head at her. That didn’t seem to follow from what she’d asked. “The crutches. I think they’re too big, Dear. Take your top off for me.”

“What, now?”

“Yes, now,” urged Seeker as she sat down on the bed, and quirked an eyebrow at Lanri. “Let me see those bruises you’re worried about.”

“Oh, that’s all, huh?”

“I can have multiple reasons for doing something, y’know,” Seeker told her with a grin. “Now. Take it off.”

Seeker was smiling, and her voice had a playful lilt to it. But Lanri knew an order when she heard one. She obeyed it, quickly untying the knot in the lace that kept her blouse cinched shut, and pulled the whole article off in one inelegant, slightly painful motion. She tossed it aside in an attempt at impishness.

“Now, hold your elbows for me,” Seeker added. Lanri squinted, not quite sure what Seeker meant. Seeker let out the faintest of giggles. “Put your left hand on your right elbow, and vice-versa.”

“Oh, I can do that,” said Lanri as she did so. The result was that her arms were not quite crossed across her chest. “You’re not going to tie me up, are you?”

Seeker’s coy grin grew into a big smile, and she suppressed a laugh. “Not this time, Dear. But I love that that’s where your mind went. No. This is far more mundane.” Seeker put one of her hands on either of Lanri’s wrists, and moved her arms up, above her head. Lanri winced, the stretching tendon shooting pangs of pain down her arms, and up into her chest. With one of her hands, Seeker pinned Lanri’s arms to the headboard above her, and she stretched the other one out to the bathroom.

“Are you… sure?” Challenged Lanri. This certainly didn’t strike her as an entirely innocent maneuver.

Seeker winked at her, but didn’t answer. Instead, she intoned “venez,” and Lanri could hear a clattering racket as the spell set something in motion. After a second, Seeker caught the object of interest. It was a little clay jar, with an apothecary’s stamp on the lid. She popped it open, and an earthy smell of blended herbs and medicines immediately wafted out.

“What is that?” Asked Lanri, as she looked curiously at the contents of the jar. It looked like a deep brown salve.

“Soothing cream, Dear,” said Seeker with a smile, as she dipped two fingers into the little jar, and scooped out a modest amount of it. “They don’t stock tons of medicine here, but… Well, cuts, bruises, and blisters aren’t unheard of.”

“The priests don’t just use spells for that?”

“They try not to,” said Seeker as she dabbed half of the cream under each of Lanri’s arms, and began massaging it in without ever letting go of Lanri’s arms. It hurt at first, but the herbs quickly numbed the area, and she sighed her relief. “You said a lot of sensible things about the gods at the villa, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Lanri recalled the various conversations they’d had about the gods while out there. Seeker had, if anything, seemed skeptical about a lot of it, and Lanri couldn’t quite see how this related to that.

“Well, when you compared Heartwardens to Hearthtenders, for one. You said Ishara has a lot in common with Brawna. Do you remember?”

“I remember,” agreed Lanri. She was nothing if not curious about where this conversation was going.

“Well, I’ve been thinking about that.” Seeker continued massaging the salve in for a moment longer, then paused and let go of Lanri’s arms, instead using the hand she’d used to pin the to the headboard to tap Lanri’s lap. “Hands here, palms up,” she ordered and scooped out a little more of the cream. Once Lanri obeyed, she began massaging it into the blisters of her palms and the strained tendons of her wrists as well.

Well, what were your thoughts?

Seeker showed her a playful frown. “I don’t lose track of myself that easily, Dear. Patience. But, as I was saying, I’ve been thinking about what you said. And I realized you were very, very far from wrong.”

“Oh?”

“You were just being too specific. It’s not just Brawna. All of the gods have a bit of overlap with… Well, maybe with all of each other. This cream for example. It’s for aftercare. It’s Shala’s mercy by intent, and Veralla’s knowledge by execution.”

Lanri nodded and smiled at the earnest angel. She was eager to hear what Seeker had thought of.

“And this,” continued Seeker as she tapped the brooch in Lanri’s hair. “This is Lah. It’s his law and justice. It’s what lets us both be sure your consent and feelings are genuine, and untainted.” She stopped talking for a while, continuing to massage the salve into Lanri’s wrists. When she stopped, she put the jar to one side and undid the buttons keeping Lanri’s trousers on with one skillful flick.

Lanri’s eyes widened. “What are you–”

“I need to put some on your knees, Dear,” said Seeker as she easily pulled Lanri’s pants off, leaving the woman in only her underpants. Before Lanri could have objected had she wanted to, Seeker began rubbing the last of the salve on Lanri’s bruised knees. "Brawna plays a part, of course, like you said. I don't only lust for you, after all. It's one of a great many feelings that bubble up in me every time I look at you, and most of them do fall into her domain, as well as Ishara's."

Lanri found herself frowning. Everything Seeker said was right, of course, but there was a strand of faulty reasoning mixed into it, and she couldn't quite yet place her finger on it.

"You disagree?" Asked Seeker.

"No!" Was Lanri's gut reaction, and she blurted it out almost instantly. "Well, yes? I don't really know."

Seeker stopped rubbing in the salve and began helping Lanri back into her trousers almost as quickly as she'd taken them off. Lanri was surprised to feel a pang of disappointment at that. She hadn't really considered whether she was open to that before now, but being redressed so quickly felt like an obvious, if unexpectedly unwelcome sign that Seeker wasn't.

The Heartwarden grinned and leaned in to kiss her, just aggressively enough to not be considered chaste. "We can certainly do that, if you'd like. But only after you've slept."

Lanri smiled, and nodded.

"But, please. Tell me what's wrong with what I was saying. My very favorite part of you is that mind of yours, and I want to know what it has to say."

Lanri considered it. None of what Seeker had said was wrong. Aftercare was Shala's mercy, and it did rely on Veralla's knowledge. But what Seeker was doing to her wasn't aftercare. It was just care. And the brooch absolutely was Lah's law, boiled down into a single artifact representing consent. But… Suddenly, it hit her, and she couldn't keep it in. "You aren't talking about Ishara!"

"What?"

"None of that is her, Seeker. It's you." Lanri leaned forward, and took Seeker's hands into hers. "Ishara is wonderful, I know that in my heart, but you just aren't talking about her. You're talking about yourself. Ishara didn't concern herself with whether I would want you if you didn't use your aura on me. She doesn’t concern herself with nursing me back to health. That’s just you."

Seeker looked taken aback. “I… suppose you’re right,” she eventually said, with a hint of disappointment in her voice that sent a shock of worry up Lanri’s spine. She wanted to elaborate, to explain herself better. But before she could, Seeker put a finger on her lips to silence her. She expectantly looked on, curious what Seeker would say. “I think I know what you meant, Dear. You didn’t mean it as a slight to her, but a compliment to me.”

Lanri nodded and smiled. Those two phrases were about as reassuring as anything Seeker could have said.

“But it is something I’m going to think about,” Seeker told her as she urged her to lay down with a gentle downwards push on her shoulder.

Lanri looked at the hand, and then down at her bare chest. “Shouldn’t I put my blouse back on, first?”

“If you want to,” said Seeker with a little shrug, and a smile that looked ever-so-slightly forced. She got up from the bed, and walked around to the other side. “Personally, though… devetez.”

Lanri knew what the spell would do before it happened. She closed her eyes to shield them from the bright light it would give off, and relished in the feeling of goosebumps up her skin. Once she’d seen the brightness past her eyelids fade, she opened them. As expected, Seeker wasn’t wearing anything anymore. Not even her gauntlet and sword.

“I thought you didn’t want to do anything tonight.”

Seeker grinned at her, whatever apprehension that had been in her smile a moment ago seemingly gone already. “I didn’t say that. I just said we won’t.” She pulled the sheets back and climbed into the large bed.

“Same difference,” said Lanri as she lifted herself off the sheet, and slipped underneath it by Seeker’s example. She rolled onto her side and, despite the brief pang of pain when her foot passed through where the other should have been, found herself smiling at the sight of Seeker next to her.

“I’m going to use a different spell, for once,” Seeker declared.

“Why?” The question wasn’t one of dissent. She wasn’t asking Seeker because she wanted a justification. She just wanted to understand the reasoning behind it.

Seeker smiled at her. “Curious little thing, aren’t you?" She whispered as she scooted a little closer, and took Lanri’s hand. “Dormez works wonders, but it’s not quite normal sleep. You’ll sleep far longer than you otherwise would if I don’t use a spell to wake you back up, and I need to see how long you sleep on your own.”

“What will that tell you?”

“It’s not an exact science, but the longer you sleep, the more time you still need to recover from your injuries.”

Lanri nodded. It made enough sense to her, she supposed. “I’m ready.”

“Oh, don’t worry. This one isn’t quite as… violent as the normal fare. I think you’ll prefer it.” Seeker paused for a while, and leaned in to kiss Lanri. “Fatiguez,” she purred into her ear immediately after.

Lanri’s hair stood on end for just the briefest of moments, and then she felt a wave of drowsiness hit her, all at once. It was like her very soul had been dipped into the concept of sleep. But unlike the other spell, she could fight it, if she focused on it. Seeker turned into a blurry mass, and her eyelids became heavier and heavier, but she forced them open, blinking several times until she managed to refocus her eyes. She was a little surprised to see Seeker looked like she was enjoying this.

“You’re trying to resist it,” she noted with a chuckle.

“Maybe i’z justh a lesser spell,” Lanri slurred. She giggled at her own joke, then nodded. This one felt almost as violent as the other one.

“Come here, Dear,” Seeker said, with just enough of that cold edge of authority for Lanri to take it seriously, even as tired as she was. She shimmied closer, and let out a happy sigh as Seeker pulled her into a hug. Their bare chests pressed together, and she found herself regretting that Seeker put her pants back on. “Stop fighting it, Dear. You know it won’t work. Sleep.”

She obediently closed her eyes, and smiled. Without her actively resisting it, she felt her thoughts slowed down more and more. What little attention she had, she used to focus on Seeker’s breathing, and she grew less and less aware of it until she stopped entirely.

________________

Seeker smiled at the young woman in her arms, but let out a sigh of relief once she was certain she’d fallen asleep. She adored her, she truly did. But guiding someone through grief and trauma as bad as what they had just escaped was beyond exhausting.

She laid there for a while, considering everything that had happened in even just the last day. She had helped Ithella seduce the femme d’arme as she’d taken to calling her, and that was fun. But everything after that had been awful. Lanri waking up and watching her realize terrible thing after terrible thing had been hard, but the shock of terror when her leg just hadn’t been there? That would haunt her. It was burned into her memories as intensely as everything that had happened up on that awful fucking stage.

She rolled away from Lanri, onto her back, and let out a groan as she pulled at her hair. She didn’t want to reflect on her mounting failures and disservices to Lanri. She wanted to sleep, actually sleep, like she’d only done a handful of times since Ishara named her Seeker. But she had work to do.

All the gods, did she have work to do. She needed to find the city’s artisans and alchemists. She needed to talk to Du Bois about Gorance being able to set a trap in a shrine of Ishara in his parish. And she needed to learn more about this Baron Armitage Vattens that Lanri was so worried about.

All of those could be taken care of in a single conversation, she realized. Du Bois was the only specific individual she needed to speak to, and he was probably the best person to ask for the information she needed regardless. But she just didn’t want to take care of it, yet. The tug at the back of her mind that was her divine mandate would force the issue eventually, but it could wait. Right now she just wanted to unwind. The journey from the Unminded Lands back to Remere had been pleasant enough, save a few encounters, but it wasn’t what she needed, either. She’d still been on guard, just like she had been the whole week before that.

Here, she could relax. Lanri was as safe as anyone could be in the monastery. There was a city wall, a garrison of guards, and two dozen of Ishara’s most experienced Touched between Lanri and anyone who would wish her harm. Could, if she could think of a way to–

The brandy!

The thought came suddenly, and it wasn’t entirely unwelcome. One of the bottles was in the carriage, and she wouldn’t be able to get to it until she asked Du Bois where it and the horses had been stabled. But the other one was just a spell away.

She moved to sit upright and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Lanri stirred slightly and mumbled something about staying put. Seeker patted the girl on the arm a few times, then turned her attention away from her. She mustered her will and intent and called upon her power. She visualized Ishara’s vault, where she had left it, and reached out into the empty air in front of her. Her forearm disappeared into nowhere, and she felt the balmy warmth of the space on the other side. She confidently grabbed, and pulled, knowing she would have the bottle.

And she did. When she pulled her arm back, the bottle of opaque blue liquid appeared as well, breaching the surface of this plane of existence. She grinned at it in triumph, and unlatched the stopper. She suspected the mere smell of it would be able to incapacitate any human. Oh, yes, this would definitely take the edge off.

Allons-y.

She put the bottle to her lips, and took a solid swig from it. The liquid tasted like wild blackberries, she thought. It was a tart, penetrant flavor that filled her whole mouth and tingled going down. When she swallowed it, it set the hairs at the back of her neck on end, and tickled her stomach.

She closed the stopper and put the bottle to one side, curious if it would do anything. Did it ever. It occurred to her how reckless it was of her to do that, to just take a big swig of a bottle a demon’s pet had given her, and she couldn’t suppress a grin. She felt her face flush, and her lips felt like they were either swelling, or numb, or both. Ishara, she had been so irresponsible lately. Taking Lanri with her, risking her safety and sanity because she wanted… a girlfriend, she supposed.

She turned to look at Lanri. Was that what the mortal was to her? Was Lanri a girlfriend? Or was she a pet, like Gorance had called her? She giggled when she realized she didn’t really care. She had the mortal’s loyalty, love, and devotion. Everything she had hoped Lanri would come to feel for her had bloomed in a matter of days.

As she looked back at the dark skinned woman, she put one of her hands down on the mattress to support herself. Sitting straight wasn’t quite as easy as it normally was, and she realized she was getting dizzy. She giggled again as she considered that. Hearwardens don’t get drunk or dizzy, she thought.

“And yet, here we are.”

The voice came from right in front of her, and her head snapped up towards it. On reflex, she reached to draw her sword from the sheath, and a little pang of dread shot through her as she remembered she’d dispelled it. But once her gaze actually met the speaker, she relaxed immediately.

Before her stood a short, narrow figure. They wore loose shorts and a tight, cropped top that revealed their muscular build. Their arms were crossed, and their androgynous face, framed by roughly chopped, shoulder length brown hair, displayed an amused yet interested expression. “Mischief,” she said, and smiled up at them.

Mischief. The first person she’d seen after Ishara reforged her soul. The one who looked like everything anyone had ever found attractive, and averaged out into a single being.

“In the flesh,” agreed the senior Heartwarden as they crossed their arms and looked her over. “You’ve been missing, Seeker.” There was an accusatory edge to their pleasantly raspy voice.

“I happen to have had a very good reason,” Seeker assured them. She pointed at her own chest, then at Lanri. “I was keeping a very devout little thing as safe as I could.” Mischief cocked their head at Lanri, and began to walk away from Seeker, around the bed.

“So, that’s her, then? That’s the little mortal that found Ishara’s dress, and that Gorance thought he could imprison you with?”

“She absolutely is,” Seeker said, turning to look at her mortal again. “Isn’t she pretty?”

“She’s gorgeous,” agreed Mischief, as they sat down on the bed next to Lanri. They brushed some hair out of the sleeping woman’s face, and that sent an uncomfortable shiver up Seeker’s spine. “She would love her.”

“She might,” Seeker lied. She knew perfectly well that she, Ishara, would love her. But she didn’t want to share Lanri, and she knew Lanri wouldn’t want to be shared. Mischief raised a skepticism-laden eyebrow at her, and the mortal stirred.

“She would,” Mischief reiterated. “No doubt in my mind.” As they spoke, Lanri rolled onto her back, and her eyes fluttered a little before shooting wide open. Seeker watched Lanri stare up at them, and flinched as she felt the fear of someone unexpected looming over her in bed. Before she or Lanri could say anything, though, Mischief purred “not this time,” and tapped the mortal on the forehead with their index and middle fingers.

Lanri let out a gasp, and Seeker looked on as her eyes rolled back in her head, and the thoughts stopped again.

“I’m not here for her, though. I’m here for you, Seeker. Ishara is worried about you.”

Seeker had to force herself to look away from Lanri and to focus on what they had to say. “Come again?” She asked.

“Well, you disappeared for two weeks. We felt you cast the occasional spell, saw you move things to and from her vault now and then. And there was that slight matter of a messenger telling me I could buy you back from a demon that was imprisoning you.”

Suddenly something clicked in Seeker. Gorance had mentioned Ishara could buy her from him if she wanted to, and now Mischief had referenced the auction twice. She glared at them. “You knew. You… you knew, and you didn’t help us; didn’t help me.”

“That sounds suspiciously like an accusation, Seeker,” said Mischief as they walked back around the bed, to in front of her. “Who would we have sent to help you? You were far beyond where any of us have any business being. The only Heartwarden who we would ever have considered sending there was you yourself.”

Seeker raised her voice a little, despite herself. “A Valkyrie, then! Valiant would never have–”

“You forget yourself, Heartwarden!” Mischief spake. Their voice boomed through the room, enhanced by magical intent, and their eyes were filled with anger. “Don’t you dare imply Ishara forsook you. You would shrivel to nothing the second she did.” Seeker shrank away from them, a basic reverence that had been woven into the foundations of her soul compelling it. “We could not help you where you were. And now that we can, I’m here.”

She nodded. “I… of course,” she quietly told them. “But… why? I’m happy to see you, I really am, but… I don’t need you right now.”

Mischief crossed their arms. “Oh, really? You’re trying to get drunk, Seeker. Hell, it worked for a few moments. That’s not normal.”

Seeker sighed. “I need to rest. I’m fatigued, Mischief. I have so much to follow up on, so many threads of Gorance’s plot to investigate. And I have her to take care of.”

They sighed, considering it. “So you do. Tell me how I can help.”

Seeker thought about it. Everything she had planned for Lanri would come dearly expensive. And she herself needed to put that aside for now, to leave it for later. “I need money to see to her needs.” They nodded, and reached into nowhere. A moment later, a heavy purse of coins landed in her lap. There was no use in counting it, Seeker knew. It would be a vast amount of money, gold and platinum coins collected from monasteries like this one over decades.

“And what else?” Asked Mischief, already knowing she wanted more from them.

“And I want – I would like – you to put me to sleep.”

They quirked an eyebrow at her, and chuckled. “You haven’t asked me to do that in a very long time, Seeker.” This, they’d taken note of.

“My duties aren’t normally this demanding. I really need to rest, Mischief. I was hoping the brandy would help, and it does, but…”

“But you don’t think substance abuse is becoming.” They grinned, and rolled their eyes. “Lay back, then.”

Seeker smiled and nodded. She put the large purse on the nightstand and laid down next to Lanri. Looking at the mortal, she got an unpleasant suspicion. “She won’t remember you, will she? The last thing she needs is a fear that anyone can just show up in her bedroom.”

They shrugged. “They usually don’t. If she does, and you don’t want her to, though, just make her forget about it. The Lady knows I’ve done that to you Heartwardens plenty of times.”

Seeker wanted to ask the plethora of questions that roused in her. “What do you–”

They simply talked over her, and reached out with two fingers. “We’ll talk about all of this again very soon, I promise.” Then, when the fingers hit her forehead, everything stopped.