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rainbowfic2024-03-08 09:02 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2024-03-08 09:02 pm
Dark Scarlet Saturation; Vert #18 [Starfall]
Mods, I need a tag for "Dark Scarlet" (which I suppose means I must also get a Prototype!)
Name: Ashes and Diamonds
Story: Starfall
Colors: Dark Scarlet; Vert 18 (Light in the darkness)
Supplies and Styles: Saturation (Dark Scarlet) + Canvas + Stained Glass + Portrait + Novelty Beads ("the days we remember" from Feb 2020 Leap Day Challenge)
Word Count: 5621
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Deception, civil unrest, stabbing, drowning, sort of suicide.
Notes: 1285, 1288, 1289, 1290, 1294, 1300, 1306, 1311, 1312, 1313, Portcallan. Leion Valerno, Tam Jadinor, Seahra Jadinor, Atino Barra, Laida Modelen, Arnan Sola, Iyana Valerno, Arna Valerno, Teila Sola, Tana Veldinor, Kettah Jadinor, Lynah Allin, Donn Chiulder, Arnence Sola. (I had several attempts at writing Saturations for the February Challenge that were all too long for me to get done in the time, and this is the one tha came nearest to actually being done. It's just some random looks at Leion Valerno, his family, and the city, featuring lots of side characters.)
Summary: Windows on Portcallan, and Leion.
am I not monstrous? (1300)
Tru Vynah paces about the school room. "By the turn of the century, the Portcallan High Council and city council, for that matter, were a byword for corruption. It wasn't until the popular revolt and military rule of the early mid-century that matters began to change. Do one of you want to list some of the causes that led to the revolt?"
None of the teenagers sitting at the tables in front of her raise a hand. she can't help looking at one of the boys, Leion Valerno, with his head down, busy taking notes of what she's said. She passes on, and stops in front of Kadia Barra, who's leaning back in her chair, arms behind her head.
"Causes, Barra? And sit up properly!"
Kadia straightens up, but slowly. She shrugs. Then she shoots a sly glance at Leion. "I don't know. Ask Leion. He'll know all about how the soldiers took over!"
"Valerno?" Vynah says. She shouldn't enable the cruelty, but it's a sensitive topic for all of them. She's not immune, and whatever name the family have chosen to use these days, Leion Valerno has the Sola looks. It's unnerving having him there in the class sometimes.
Leion lifts his head, eyes widening. "Me?"
"All of you should know," she says, recovering from her small lapse. "I despair of getting anything into your heads. And, really, Valerno, you ought to."
Leion folds his arms over his history book. "Father's family weren't related that closely to Governor Sola, if that's what you mean. I bet Kadia knows plenty about corrupt Councillors, if you want to talk about causes."
"Enough." Vynah shuts them all down and steps forward. "You'll all re-read chapter six tonight and write a summary of it to hand in tomorrow. I hope then you will be able to demonstrate a more thorough understanding of the topic, and we can continue."
Vynah catches Leion on the way out. "Wait a minute," she says. She gets him to help her carry the spare textbooks back to the cupboard. As they walk down the corridor, she hesitates over whether or not to say what she has in mind, but if his classmates know, then Valerno ought to. "You do realise that your family are far more closely connected to Sola's government than you claimed earlier, don't you?"
Leion's face goes blank. "Sorry, Imai?"
"Your grandparents," she says, lifting the pile of books out of his arms. She hefts them up and shoves them onto the already crowded stock cupboard shelves with a practised firm shove. "They were officers on the military council." She sighs. "If you'd read the chapter properly, you'd have seen the names. I suggest you go home and do that. Understood?"
Leion stares back at her for a moment, before giving a small shake. "Yes, Imai Vynah. I—I'll do that."
The door slams behind him, and the books cascade out onto the floor.
in my protection (1294)
Seahra races out of the front door and throws herself at Tam. "Father! You're here—thank goodness!"
"What is it?"
Seahra draws back and looks up at him. "It's Leio. He went out just before all this happened. Iyana made it back here not long ago and went to look for him, but she's not come back either." She breathes in shakily, but she's trying to keep calm; his brave, sensible girl.
Tam touches her cheek and then bends in to kiss her on the forehead. "Good girl. Wait here a little longer, and if Iyana comes back first, you can tell her where I am. Where did he go? Watersgate again?"
"It might have been. I didn't know he'd gone." Seah gives a helpless shrug.
Tam marches back down the steep and narrow streets of the south-westerly quarter of Portcallan. He's already spent enough time out here today. The place is clear of the crowds, but it's eerily empty, only a few stray figures around, either scurrying about for reasons that couldn't wait, or working to try and pick up the debris and repair damage. Tam's not on duty now, but even if he'd had chance to change his Guardian's uniform, it wouldn't make much difference. But he can't undo what's been done, he can only go on and keep trying to do the best he can.
Right now, all that matters is his errant stepson. If Leio is injured or worse, he'll never forgive himself, and stars knows what it'll do to this family they've managed to put together from so many broken pieces. It'll shatter Iyana's heart. He's only nine and the mob was wild earlier, all the accusations of corruption that have been flung about lately bringing back fears to the bad old days. The Councillors whose names had been brought up had been dragged out of Chamber Square, where they'd caught them. They'd escaped without serious injury, but there hadn't been much left of their dignity—one had been thrown on the rubbish tip, another given a rough dunking in the sea, not so far from Watersgate.
The market square is a mess. There are empty and broken stalls left in places and the paving stones are covered in ruined food and scattered starstone beads. Tam stands in the centre and turns, then whistles, loud and clear. A woman in the corner pauses in sweeping up broken glass and lifts her head, then returns to her task.
Suddenly, he's there: pale and dark-eyed and absurdly small in the abandoned square as he attempts to walk over casually, his efforts marred by a limp. He stops in front of Tam, and gives a hopeful smile. His hair's a mess, he's got a bruise on one cheek and dirty smudges all over the rest of his face. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Young sea-spawn," says Tam, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Where have you been?"
Leion turns his head back over his shoulder and waves his arm in the direction of the sea. "It wasn't on purpose. I was just going to spend my solers, and I didn't even get a chance."
"Another day. Home—now!"
Leion nods. His face is not only dirty and bruised but blotchy underneath, and it's obvious he saw more than Tam would have liked of the day's madness.
"I suppose I might as well, then."
Tam prods him back upwards. Best to let Iyana have it out with the boy later. "Yes, you might as well. What have done to your leg?"
Leio glances down and pulls up a torn trouser leg high enough for Tam to see a jagged cut. "Look," he says, chest swelling with pride.
"Congratulations," says Tam. "Come along with you." He appreciates the spirited attempt at a brave face, but Leion turns his head away and stares down at the stones when they pass a burnt out shop, and later a house with smashed windows. He puts a casual hand to his shoulder then, or his head.
"It's over," Tam adds, in his usual level, gravelled tones. "Everybody's calmed down again. They'll send the Councillors to the courts in the proper ways. I expect your Mother'll have a hand in that."
Leion frowns and drags his feet along the stones, scuffing his shoes in a way Iyana would never permit. "Bit late," he mutters.
Tam chooses not to ask; he just pats Leion on the back again. "Here we are," he says, nodding towards the gate into the shared yard, where the Valerno and Jadinor house is situated. "Home."
And for all Leion says to him or to his Mother, he'd have thought he'd got away lightly, but in the morning, Seah tells Tam that Leio woke her, full of nightmares about someone drowning.
"Nobody drowned," says Tam, to her. He says it again to Leio later, but he's not sure the boy believes him.
our betrayal (1306)
Atino Barra lays a hand on Leion's arm; gives a light nod to draw him aside from the others. And though Leion first glances back at them, at Tess; he follows.
Atino keeps his hold on him; murmurs in his ear, "I wanted to say how glad I am you made the right choice."
Leion stutters out something incoherent, colouring. Atino smiles. Leion won't betray them now.
"Don't worry," says Atino, and pats Leion's cheek lightly, keeping his hand on his face after, softening the gesture.
Leion doesn't have the kind of gifts Atino's on the look out for, but he's worth having around nevertheless. Better in with them than sneaking around on the outside, if he really would. He's also both insurance and delicious irony—Tam Jadinor's stepson entangled in Atino's net.
a white world made red (1288)
It's funny—only four or five years earlier Arnan Sola would have been as happy to remain on duty a little longer than go home. He and Iyana pulled apart so far for a while there, he'd thought there was no coming back, but it turned out their destinations weren't so different after all, just their means of getting there.
Arnan's nearing the end of three days straight on duty at the Council Chamber's and Governor's House. Tomorrow, he'll be home again properly for a short stretch, and even aside from seeing his family, he's glad to get out of barracks. The more these scandals drag on and the city and the High Council fight it out, the more people turn their heads when they hear his name. He's thinking of just letting himself be known as Valerno. It might be easier, and these days it feels more true than anything else.
It's a hot evening. The paving stones are still warm from the day's sun, though sunset's long gone. Home will be cooler, even on such a day. It's up on the hillside, in a good position to catch the sea breezes. No doubt some long-ago owner designed it that way, before the Solas ever got hold of it. He pictures Arna and little Leio there; absolutely free of the oppressive atmosphere permeating Chamber Square lately. Arnan raises his head. The weather may do its best at echoing the mood of the city, but the heat will end cleanly in a storm later, and he can't say the same for Portcallan.
He's halfway round the circuit of the wall round the Chambers, when he hears, behind him in the shadows, a sudden soft movement; a small intake of breath. He halts, like the soldier he is, but he never gets to bark out, "Show yourself!"
There's a light footfall behind him before he can speak, and an abrupt, unreal sensation in his back, like burning. Someone's running away: footsteps fading rapidly, clattering and slipping on the stones of the sloping street. Arnan is face down on the road; feels faint warmth of daylight he will never see again as blood pools out under him. The pain settles into reality; sharp and colder now. He grits his teeth against it, and tries to rise, but fails.
Where is everyone? Somebody, anybody, to keep him from falling. There's a narrowly elegant stone house not so far away where they're waiting for him. Thin drapes flutter in the cool air where the children sleep. Arnan scrabbles at the stones, as if he can gain purchase there, but they're slippery with blood. The whole world darkens. He'll never go home again.
threads of silk and gold (1313)
Laida Modelen finds Leion in the Aiamance Arcade. He's on the upper walkway in a mid-green jacket, leaning on the edge of the balcony rail, watching something below. Laida frowns down at the people wandering in and out of the little shops, and spots Viyony Eseray with Eollan Barra and Tess Hyan. Viyony is pulling out a length of fabric hanging outside the nearest shop and, as far as Laida can tell, giving the shop's owner a thorough interrogation over it.
Laida shakes of her head in incomprehension, and moves to stand next to Leion. When he fails to notice her, she shifts her stance and gives a pointed cough.
"Sorry," says Leion, turning immediately. "I wasn't paying attention."
She raises an eyebrow. "Too much, I'd say. You know she's set she on marrying that rich Lialian of hers. You've no hope." Her gaze returns to Viyony, busy in the arcade below. "I think that shopkeeper's going to cry if she carries on like that."
"Probably," he agrees mildly. "I'm just supposed to keep an eye on her, officially, and I'm not happy about Eollan and Tess for company. That's all."
As far as Laida can see, the only one in need of help is the shopkeeper. "Well, before you injure yourself leaping over the balcony to break them up, I've been trying to catch you for ages. I want to speak to your mother."
"Something is wrong, though. I know it."
"You're not listening to me, that's what's wrong. Leio!"
He straightens, biting back a laugh. "Apologies. What was that about Mother? You want to talk to her? What's stopping you?"
"I wanted to ask for her advice, but she's so busy—I didn't want to walk up to her at the wrong time. I might wind up before her in court."
"Nonsense. She's quite nice, you know. It isn't some complicated legal case, is it?"
Laida shrugs. Her gaze strays over the heads of people milling about in the Arcade. She taps the rail with her fingertips. "Things haven't been right here for a while, have they? It's not just the assassination attempt. I want to do something—I want to try and make a difference here. I can't spend my whole life lost in a social whirl. I was thinking of getting into the law, but there's so much I need to find out first, and, of course, I thought of your mother. I'm not afraid of studying, though, and I've got the family funds behind me. I'm lucky. Which is party of why I have to—that's what I've decided."
"Good for you!" Leion catches her by the arm then kisses her on the cheek. "Mother will be delighted to help, I'm sure. I'll tell her and she'll arrange something with you, or her secretary will." He draws back, brows narrowing. "When you say things aren't right, what do you mean?"
She walks alongside him towards the stairs. "Only vague things—undercurrents. Odd looks, odd comments. Nothing about Eollan or Tess—no need to get excited."
"Undercurrents," murmurs Leion. "Oh, yes. I know you think I'm being ridiculous, but please keep an ear and eye out for me when it comes to Barra and Tess? I've nothing solid to go on, but something's crawling under my skin about this. Whatever you think, I'm trying to do my bit for the city, too."
"Deal, then," Laida says. "That's fair."
He gives a soft laugh. "Deal."
the good of this city (1288)
Iyana Valerno can do many things—the Justice Courts ring with her voice of truth; she advises to the Council Chambers—but she cannot keep the family in one piece, not without Arnan.
Arnan's sister Menna takes Arna, her eldest child. She's of an age with her cousin Teila and they'll be taught together. Leion, though, is far too little to go with his sister. Iyana can't neglect her work. Portcallan needs her too. She's left scrambling for all the help she can find; calling in favours, and trying to hire people who meet her exacting standards.
A few years before, she'd thought it was all over between them. Arnan was too careless, too straightforward. He'd told her she was too unbending, too wrapped up in her causes to know how to live, but they'd worked things back around. They'd balanced each other out.
Alone, she's not enough to keep the family from breaking.
a brittle thread (1289)
They make an uncertain rope out of the sheets, an old idea from a play that's new to them. Arna tugs at it hard to test it. When it fails, she and her cousin Teila set to work tightening the knots all over again.
"You can't really climb down this," Teila says.
Arna sets her face as she ties her long black hair back in a tail, ready to make the attempt.
"What else can I do? Mother sits there and sends me away—passes Leio about to everyone she can think of. All she cares about is her work! She never even mentions Father. Leio's only a few streets away tonight, and I'm going to see him, poor baby. I don't care what she and Aunt do to me! Let them punish me for having a heart!"
"I mean," ventures Teila, leaning out the window, "you'll fall. You could die!"
Arna tugs at the sheets and when they hold this time, she flashes a triumphant grin at Teila. "It's not very far down. I'll be all right."
When she swings herself over the window sill, her nerve goes for a moment or two. It isn't a proper rope at all; it is further to the gated yard below than it seemed when she was safely in their bedroom. But she raises her head, stiffens her resolve, and catches hold of the rope.
She climbs.
She's not like Mother, and she'll prove it, whatever it takes.
pure as the driven (1306)
Tana reaches the end of Watersgate Street, and leans out over the sea wall. The tide is in, lapping at the steps below; the shingled beach entirely consumed by it. She pulls back and walks down the steps as fast as she dares with only the moon and a distant lamp to light her way.
"Leion!"
He's in the water, swimming out in shirt sleeves. His outer clothes are lying on the dry step beside her. Tana waves wildly at him. "What are you doing? Come back here!"
He turns his head, flashes a grin at her, but keeps on swimming.
Tana rests against the stone wall beside her, and recovers her breath. She'd torn down Watersgate after him, not knowing what was wrong. She still doesn't. Once she's got voice enough, she tries again. "Stop it! Come back here at once! It's dark—it's not safe!" It's a dangerous spot to swim at the best of times, and this time of the night is definitely not that. "Leion!"
He finally turns back towards her, making his way through the water until he catches hold of the lower step in front of her and hauls himself out, soaking the dry stones she's been sheltering on.
"The Guardians are here," Tana says. "Your stepfather is not pleased about you haring off like this. I can't say I blame him. What were you thinking?"
Leion reaches for his coat and pulls it about him. He's breathing hard, from the combined exercise of the dash down here and the swim. "I just needed to wash everything out of my head."
"Well, there's no need to be so literal about it. I don't think it works that way."
He laughs, shivering lightly in the salty breeze. "Funnily enough, it seems to. You ought to try it."
"After surviving the rest of today, the last thing I want to do is have a go at drowning myself, thank you. I have some sense!"
Leion looks down. "Yes. Wish I did. But there we are." He raises his head, and stares out to sea. "Not even anywhere near the stupidest thing I've done this summer."
"Come on," says Tana, moving downwards and putting her hand on his arm. "You need to get dry."
"Have they -?" He gets to his feet with her help, but halts. "They've taken Atino already—and everyone else?"
Tana nods. She understands a little now, what he wanted to wash away. At least she saw through things a bit sooner than Leion had; a little more easily. "Yes. The only loose end left is one idiot who ran away and threw himself into the Calla Strait, stars only knows why."
"I had to," says Leion, his gaze still drifting out with the waves. "I didn't know what else to do."
all the glittering blades (1311)
Kettah escapes after parade drill, dressed in pristine Starflower blue uniform. Her sights are set on one particular figure amongst the people who crowded around Chamber Square to watch.
"Leio!" She flings herself at him and hugs him.
"Not very military," he points out, drawing back. "I came to admire your progress. Well done."
Kettah pulls a face. She recognises the edge in his tone. "But?"
"But nothing!"
"Oh?" She folds her arms.
Leion raises his gaze to the bright blue sky. "No! It's only—is this really what you want to do?"
He's been asking her that in different ways ever since she first decided to enlist. She doesn't bother to give him the same answer again. She merely directs a weary look at him.
"Sorry," he murmurs.
"You wouldn't like it, I know, but I'm not you."
"Obviously. Thankfully for everyone."
Kettah hasn't got much time to spare —certainly not enough to wrangle this out. It's simple to her, even if Leion won't see it. She never wanted to sit around doing the paperwork, or spend years learning archaic bits of law. She takes after Father, and she'd probably have signed up for the Guardians if she could, but you can't join an organisation where your father is the most important person in it. She wants to be active—protect people. This works for her.
"I know what I'm doing," she says, moving away. He's the one who doesn't—lurking around the edges of everything, refusing to decide which side he's on. The rest of the family are all agreed on that, so she doesn't say it aloud. He's heard it all before, even more times than they've had the debate about the army. There isn't time for that, either.
Leion gives her a mock salute as she steps back. "Yes, yes," he says, and turns away. "But I'm your older brother—it's my job to worry."
Kettah shakes her head and runs back into the square, but she's smiling as she goes.
some conscience lost (1311)
Lynah Allin makes the rounds of her guests. She wears a brittle smile and has a practised question to ask each one. Silk rustles as she moves. Silver at her throat chokes her. Calla Island already feels like a beautiful cage.
This is no time for regrets—she has work to do. One of her guests has been sent by Tana Veldiner, and she hasn't found them yet. She moves onto the next, and the next, until a young man in a deep green velvet jacket turns, and a starflower pin on his lapel catches the light.
"Imor Allin," he says, giving her a formal nod in greeting.
He's younger than she'd expected; slim, with dark hair and eyes, slightly arched brows and an easy smile. But what do spies look like? She ought to know: she's studied herself in the mirror often enough.
"Welcome to Allin House," she says, and offers him her hand. Her fingers tremble against his. Until now, this had been theory, not practice. If Vollo ever finds out—if he ever understands—there's no telling what he will do. "You are?"
He grips her cold hand briefly, reassuringly, in his warm one. "Leion Valerno." He glances about the main reception room. "I always wondered what it was like over here. Is it really as fabulous as they say?"
"I'll give you the tour and you can decide," she says, with a laugh. "After I've greeted everyone else. Remind me."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Lynah takes him into the gallery. Rows of Allins and Hyans gaze down at them; the past keeping a beady eye on the future.
"Not sure I'd like to meet this one on a dark night," Leion says, gesturing at the nearest portrait. He casts her a mischievous look. "Not your mother, I trust?"
Lynah shakes her head. "No. I think she's probably only legendary, anyway."
"For which we can all be thankful," says Leion. He takes a couple of steps further on and studies a more recent framed pencil sketch. "Sure you're ready for this?"
Lynah merely shrugs. If she's not, then what is the point of it all? It's not as if she's got anywhere to run, not any more. She'd like to ask him, how it feels—all the lying—but on a second glance, she doubts he'd know. He can come and go, and remain himself. She must live in the lie, and there's no doing that without betraying someone; without losing part of your soul.
She's in too deep already. She guides him towards Vollo's portrait. "My husband," she says, in warning.
"I know Vollo, of course," says Leion, barely giving it a glance.
Which only proves that he doesn't.
a man of my company (1312)
Chiulder keeps to the shadows, watching Leion walk down Ship Way. He's whistling to himself as he goes—that spy, that Valerno—untroubled by his conscience. He doesn't even raise his head as he passes close by Chiulder.
Chiulder draws back further into the narrow side-street, pressing his hand against the stone wall of the nearest house. "Come near me again," he whispers at Valerno's retreating back, "and I'll make you regret it."
He watches, wary, until Valerno is safely out of sight, his heart pounding all the while. Valerno pretended to be one of them, but he wasn't; he was a liar sent by Tam Jadinor to ruin everything. Chiulder hisses after him. Nothing ever ends fairly. It was Chiulder who got to spend all this time in prison; Atino Barra who ran away—and Valerno who's still merrily walking around Portcallan in the sunshine.
"Go on," he mutters under his breath to the shadow Valerno has left behind him. "Go away. Leave me alone! Or next time I'll kill you."
Empty threats only leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Atino was the one who knew the secrets that could take Chiulder's gifts to that length, and Atino's gone for good. But Chiulder's come back to Portcallan for a reason. He was close to Atino; he heard whispers. He's hoping someone else might be able to complete Atino's work.
If there's any truth in it, he'll make Valerno pay.
tournament of shadows (1313)
Leion races down through the steep streets of Portcallan's eastern quarter as fast as he can, his quarry only barely in sight. Rounding the corner of Tower Street, Leion pauses in Watersgate Market to catch his breath. He puts a hand to the supporting pole of one of the stalls for a moment, before spurring himself on, ignoring the stitch in his side.
Tana sent the boy's parents to him, to see if he could find out why a mild ability to summon a spark here or there, or heat up a hearthstone has spiralled so far out of control.
The hill's incline is steep enough, that momentum carries on past the point of stopping, hitting the sea wall. He leans out over it, searching for a glimpse of the boy. He's sure he was heading this way. Where else would you go when you're worried about setting things alight, but to the largest body of water around?
He spots him then: a light figure in a tan-coloured coat, stalking right across the beach and straight into the sea. He doesn't stop there, carrying on in the same line through the waves.
"Stars, no," says Leion. The hairs stand up on the back of his head. He pushes off from the wall, leaping down the steps to land, sliding and crunching on the shingle. People near by turn their heads.
"Stop him," he yells, trying to wave their attention to the boy in the sea, but he can't afford to wait around until they do.
He makes it to the water's edge, and throws off his jacket, kicks off his shoes and wades in, yelling after the boy. He's waist deep and his throat hoarse with no luck, before he hears a splashing beside him and turns to find a Sea Watch Captain calling out as she wades across to join him.
There's a fishing boat not far away, and they've turned in towards them, too. One of the crew jumps into the water on a rope; they're all trying to find the boy.
He's gone. The current in Calla Strait is notorious, and he hadn't even been making any effort to swim or fight it.
Leion bends over on the beach, coughing, salt water in his mouth and nose; all out of breath again. He sinks down onto the shingle; his head in his hands.
"What happened?" asks the Captain as she makes it across to join him. "Did you see?"
There's a bitter taste in Leion's mouth that has nothing to do with salt water. He shakes himself and stands, dripping wet at the edge of the waves. He glances around for his shoes and jacket, but they're a couple of lengths further down the shore. He brushes wet hair out of his eyes.
"No," he says. "Not really."
"What a waste," murmurs the Captain, shading her eyes with her hand as she gazes out to the horizon. It's much too late for hoping that boy is going to reappear.
"Oh, yes," agrees Leion, his mouth turning down at the corners. "A bloody waste."
It's worse than that. He can't prove anything; he hasn't got enough to go on. An increase in affinity doesn't add up to something he could take to a court, and it doesn't lead him back to the guilty party. It's nothing anyone would recognise it as a weapon. But he knows, down in his gut, that this is murder.
It isn't the first. It won't be the last.
a last good act (1285)
Arnence Sola stands in front of the City Recorder. She's been here many times before. She's even been the other side of the desk—she held that very position for a while, long ago. That was back in what she'd call the bad old days, if those that went before hadn't been even worse.
The man turns the pages over; the distinctive noise of it takes her back. She wrote down the names of the dead and those who were prisoners. She can hear the scratch of her pen against the paper in her head.
She's been here in the usual way plenty of times, too: her marriage, standing here with Lin and Poll to reaffirm their vows. She brought her children's names to be taken down. Lately it's been nothing but deaths, but today she's here to record a birth.
Arnence straightens herself and ignores the stiffness in her old bones, moving forward now her turns has come, ready to give the Recorder the name of her newest grandchild. It's a good name, a hopeful one. Only really after Iyana's mother, of course, but it means 'of Laon', 'of the light'. Arnence will probably never come here again—it'll be someone else's turn to bring news of her death next, no doubt. It's a good note to finish on.
"Valerno," she tells the official, as he squints at the form she's given him. "Leion."
i need light (1290)
Seahra's father, Tam Jadinor, marries again, and gives her, in addition to a stepmother, a ready-made sister and brother. The sister doesn't live with them, so she doesn't count properly, but Leion does.
He's only five. He's the best present Seah's ever been given; the most absorbing toy in the world. The Valernos have been through some things, Father tells her. She must be patient with him. She sees almost nothing of that. Leion's a sunny little soul and he responds to her adoration with his own, following her around the house every time he gets the chance.
Sometimes, he cries in the night, and she hears him, only just going up to bed herself, or awake before Father and Iyana. She slips into his room and lets him have her lightstone lamp. It's square with coloured patterns on the glass, and looking at it instantly quietens his sobs. She sits precariously on the edge of the bed and brushes the hair back from his damp and heated face.
"It's all right," she tells him. "You're safe here. My father will never let anything hurt you."
At eleven, she believes that entirely and holds them both secure in it.
dynamite and a woman (1313)
Viyony grips the edge of the battlements on top of Portcallan Tower. Her gaze wanders from the view of the city spreading out far below, to Leion, who's busy explaining how this quarter used to be a separate settlement, long ago, pointing out signs of it to her. He has to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. Viyony nods, but she's not really listening. Instead, she's imagining what it would be like to abandon her terrible, vital plan. Perhaps she and Leion, together, might be enough to deal with Eseray's problems—with any problem.
As daydreams go, it's impossible, of course. You can't take Leion out of Portcallan for good, any more than you can keep her away from Eseray for long, and there are no Powers these days that run to reshaping the land to dispense with all the hundredlengths between them.
Her silent sigh is lost on the wind.
Name: Ashes and Diamonds
Story: Starfall
Colors: Dark Scarlet; Vert 18 (Light in the darkness)
Supplies and Styles: Saturation (Dark Scarlet) + Canvas + Stained Glass + Portrait + Novelty Beads ("the days we remember" from Feb 2020 Leap Day Challenge)
Word Count: 5621
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Deception, civil unrest, stabbing, drowning, sort of suicide.
Notes: 1285, 1288, 1289, 1290, 1294, 1300, 1306, 1311, 1312, 1313, Portcallan. Leion Valerno, Tam Jadinor, Seahra Jadinor, Atino Barra, Laida Modelen, Arnan Sola, Iyana Valerno, Arna Valerno, Teila Sola, Tana Veldinor, Kettah Jadinor, Lynah Allin, Donn Chiulder, Arnence Sola. (I had several attempts at writing Saturations for the February Challenge that were all too long for me to get done in the time, and this is the one tha came nearest to actually being done. It's just some random looks at Leion Valerno, his family, and the city, featuring lots of side characters.)
Summary: Windows on Portcallan, and Leion.
am I not monstrous? (1300)
Tru Vynah paces about the school room. "By the turn of the century, the Portcallan High Council and city council, for that matter, were a byword for corruption. It wasn't until the popular revolt and military rule of the early mid-century that matters began to change. Do one of you want to list some of the causes that led to the revolt?"
None of the teenagers sitting at the tables in front of her raise a hand. she can't help looking at one of the boys, Leion Valerno, with his head down, busy taking notes of what she's said. She passes on, and stops in front of Kadia Barra, who's leaning back in her chair, arms behind her head.
"Causes, Barra? And sit up properly!"
Kadia straightens up, but slowly. She shrugs. Then she shoots a sly glance at Leion. "I don't know. Ask Leion. He'll know all about how the soldiers took over!"
"Valerno?" Vynah says. She shouldn't enable the cruelty, but it's a sensitive topic for all of them. She's not immune, and whatever name the family have chosen to use these days, Leion Valerno has the Sola looks. It's unnerving having him there in the class sometimes.
Leion lifts his head, eyes widening. "Me?"
"All of you should know," she says, recovering from her small lapse. "I despair of getting anything into your heads. And, really, Valerno, you ought to."
Leion folds his arms over his history book. "Father's family weren't related that closely to Governor Sola, if that's what you mean. I bet Kadia knows plenty about corrupt Councillors, if you want to talk about causes."
"Enough." Vynah shuts them all down and steps forward. "You'll all re-read chapter six tonight and write a summary of it to hand in tomorrow. I hope then you will be able to demonstrate a more thorough understanding of the topic, and we can continue."
Vynah catches Leion on the way out. "Wait a minute," she says. She gets him to help her carry the spare textbooks back to the cupboard. As they walk down the corridor, she hesitates over whether or not to say what she has in mind, but if his classmates know, then Valerno ought to. "You do realise that your family are far more closely connected to Sola's government than you claimed earlier, don't you?"
Leion's face goes blank. "Sorry, Imai?"
"Your grandparents," she says, lifting the pile of books out of his arms. She hefts them up and shoves them onto the already crowded stock cupboard shelves with a practised firm shove. "They were officers on the military council." She sighs. "If you'd read the chapter properly, you'd have seen the names. I suggest you go home and do that. Understood?"
Leion stares back at her for a moment, before giving a small shake. "Yes, Imai Vynah. I—I'll do that."
The door slams behind him, and the books cascade out onto the floor.
in my protection (1294)
Seahra races out of the front door and throws herself at Tam. "Father! You're here—thank goodness!"
"What is it?"
Seahra draws back and looks up at him. "It's Leio. He went out just before all this happened. Iyana made it back here not long ago and went to look for him, but she's not come back either." She breathes in shakily, but she's trying to keep calm; his brave, sensible girl.
Tam touches her cheek and then bends in to kiss her on the forehead. "Good girl. Wait here a little longer, and if Iyana comes back first, you can tell her where I am. Where did he go? Watersgate again?"
"It might have been. I didn't know he'd gone." Seah gives a helpless shrug.
Tam marches back down the steep and narrow streets of the south-westerly quarter of Portcallan. He's already spent enough time out here today. The place is clear of the crowds, but it's eerily empty, only a few stray figures around, either scurrying about for reasons that couldn't wait, or working to try and pick up the debris and repair damage. Tam's not on duty now, but even if he'd had chance to change his Guardian's uniform, it wouldn't make much difference. But he can't undo what's been done, he can only go on and keep trying to do the best he can.
Right now, all that matters is his errant stepson. If Leio is injured or worse, he'll never forgive himself, and stars knows what it'll do to this family they've managed to put together from so many broken pieces. It'll shatter Iyana's heart. He's only nine and the mob was wild earlier, all the accusations of corruption that have been flung about lately bringing back fears to the bad old days. The Councillors whose names had been brought up had been dragged out of Chamber Square, where they'd caught them. They'd escaped without serious injury, but there hadn't been much left of their dignity—one had been thrown on the rubbish tip, another given a rough dunking in the sea, not so far from Watersgate.
The market square is a mess. There are empty and broken stalls left in places and the paving stones are covered in ruined food and scattered starstone beads. Tam stands in the centre and turns, then whistles, loud and clear. A woman in the corner pauses in sweeping up broken glass and lifts her head, then returns to her task.
Suddenly, he's there: pale and dark-eyed and absurdly small in the abandoned square as he attempts to walk over casually, his efforts marred by a limp. He stops in front of Tam, and gives a hopeful smile. His hair's a mess, he's got a bruise on one cheek and dirty smudges all over the rest of his face. "Fancy meeting you here."
"Young sea-spawn," says Tam, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Where have you been?"
Leion turns his head back over his shoulder and waves his arm in the direction of the sea. "It wasn't on purpose. I was just going to spend my solers, and I didn't even get a chance."
"Another day. Home—now!"
Leion nods. His face is not only dirty and bruised but blotchy underneath, and it's obvious he saw more than Tam would have liked of the day's madness.
"I suppose I might as well, then."
Tam prods him back upwards. Best to let Iyana have it out with the boy later. "Yes, you might as well. What have done to your leg?"
Leio glances down and pulls up a torn trouser leg high enough for Tam to see a jagged cut. "Look," he says, chest swelling with pride.
"Congratulations," says Tam. "Come along with you." He appreciates the spirited attempt at a brave face, but Leion turns his head away and stares down at the stones when they pass a burnt out shop, and later a house with smashed windows. He puts a casual hand to his shoulder then, or his head.
"It's over," Tam adds, in his usual level, gravelled tones. "Everybody's calmed down again. They'll send the Councillors to the courts in the proper ways. I expect your Mother'll have a hand in that."
Leion frowns and drags his feet along the stones, scuffing his shoes in a way Iyana would never permit. "Bit late," he mutters.
Tam chooses not to ask; he just pats Leion on the back again. "Here we are," he says, nodding towards the gate into the shared yard, where the Valerno and Jadinor house is situated. "Home."
And for all Leion says to him or to his Mother, he'd have thought he'd got away lightly, but in the morning, Seah tells Tam that Leio woke her, full of nightmares about someone drowning.
"Nobody drowned," says Tam, to her. He says it again to Leio later, but he's not sure the boy believes him.
our betrayal (1306)
Atino Barra lays a hand on Leion's arm; gives a light nod to draw him aside from the others. And though Leion first glances back at them, at Tess; he follows.
Atino keeps his hold on him; murmurs in his ear, "I wanted to say how glad I am you made the right choice."
Leion stutters out something incoherent, colouring. Atino smiles. Leion won't betray them now.
"Don't worry," says Atino, and pats Leion's cheek lightly, keeping his hand on his face after, softening the gesture.
Leion doesn't have the kind of gifts Atino's on the look out for, but he's worth having around nevertheless. Better in with them than sneaking around on the outside, if he really would. He's also both insurance and delicious irony—Tam Jadinor's stepson entangled in Atino's net.
a white world made red (1288)
It's funny—only four or five years earlier Arnan Sola would have been as happy to remain on duty a little longer than go home. He and Iyana pulled apart so far for a while there, he'd thought there was no coming back, but it turned out their destinations weren't so different after all, just their means of getting there.
Arnan's nearing the end of three days straight on duty at the Council Chamber's and Governor's House. Tomorrow, he'll be home again properly for a short stretch, and even aside from seeing his family, he's glad to get out of barracks. The more these scandals drag on and the city and the High Council fight it out, the more people turn their heads when they hear his name. He's thinking of just letting himself be known as Valerno. It might be easier, and these days it feels more true than anything else.
It's a hot evening. The paving stones are still warm from the day's sun, though sunset's long gone. Home will be cooler, even on such a day. It's up on the hillside, in a good position to catch the sea breezes. No doubt some long-ago owner designed it that way, before the Solas ever got hold of it. He pictures Arna and little Leio there; absolutely free of the oppressive atmosphere permeating Chamber Square lately. Arnan raises his head. The weather may do its best at echoing the mood of the city, but the heat will end cleanly in a storm later, and he can't say the same for Portcallan.
He's halfway round the circuit of the wall round the Chambers, when he hears, behind him in the shadows, a sudden soft movement; a small intake of breath. He halts, like the soldier he is, but he never gets to bark out, "Show yourself!"
There's a light footfall behind him before he can speak, and an abrupt, unreal sensation in his back, like burning. Someone's running away: footsteps fading rapidly, clattering and slipping on the stones of the sloping street. Arnan is face down on the road; feels faint warmth of daylight he will never see again as blood pools out under him. The pain settles into reality; sharp and colder now. He grits his teeth against it, and tries to rise, but fails.
Where is everyone? Somebody, anybody, to keep him from falling. There's a narrowly elegant stone house not so far away where they're waiting for him. Thin drapes flutter in the cool air where the children sleep. Arnan scrabbles at the stones, as if he can gain purchase there, but they're slippery with blood. The whole world darkens. He'll never go home again.
threads of silk and gold (1313)
Laida Modelen finds Leion in the Aiamance Arcade. He's on the upper walkway in a mid-green jacket, leaning on the edge of the balcony rail, watching something below. Laida frowns down at the people wandering in and out of the little shops, and spots Viyony Eseray with Eollan Barra and Tess Hyan. Viyony is pulling out a length of fabric hanging outside the nearest shop and, as far as Laida can tell, giving the shop's owner a thorough interrogation over it.
Laida shakes of her head in incomprehension, and moves to stand next to Leion. When he fails to notice her, she shifts her stance and gives a pointed cough.
"Sorry," says Leion, turning immediately. "I wasn't paying attention."
She raises an eyebrow. "Too much, I'd say. You know she's set she on marrying that rich Lialian of hers. You've no hope." Her gaze returns to Viyony, busy in the arcade below. "I think that shopkeeper's going to cry if she carries on like that."
"Probably," he agrees mildly. "I'm just supposed to keep an eye on her, officially, and I'm not happy about Eollan and Tess for company. That's all."
As far as Laida can see, the only one in need of help is the shopkeeper. "Well, before you injure yourself leaping over the balcony to break them up, I've been trying to catch you for ages. I want to speak to your mother."
"Something is wrong, though. I know it."
"You're not listening to me, that's what's wrong. Leio!"
He straightens, biting back a laugh. "Apologies. What was that about Mother? You want to talk to her? What's stopping you?"
"I wanted to ask for her advice, but she's so busy—I didn't want to walk up to her at the wrong time. I might wind up before her in court."
"Nonsense. She's quite nice, you know. It isn't some complicated legal case, is it?"
Laida shrugs. Her gaze strays over the heads of people milling about in the Arcade. She taps the rail with her fingertips. "Things haven't been right here for a while, have they? It's not just the assassination attempt. I want to do something—I want to try and make a difference here. I can't spend my whole life lost in a social whirl. I was thinking of getting into the law, but there's so much I need to find out first, and, of course, I thought of your mother. I'm not afraid of studying, though, and I've got the family funds behind me. I'm lucky. Which is party of why I have to—that's what I've decided."
"Good for you!" Leion catches her by the arm then kisses her on the cheek. "Mother will be delighted to help, I'm sure. I'll tell her and she'll arrange something with you, or her secretary will." He draws back, brows narrowing. "When you say things aren't right, what do you mean?"
She walks alongside him towards the stairs. "Only vague things—undercurrents. Odd looks, odd comments. Nothing about Eollan or Tess—no need to get excited."
"Undercurrents," murmurs Leion. "Oh, yes. I know you think I'm being ridiculous, but please keep an ear and eye out for me when it comes to Barra and Tess? I've nothing solid to go on, but something's crawling under my skin about this. Whatever you think, I'm trying to do my bit for the city, too."
"Deal, then," Laida says. "That's fair."
He gives a soft laugh. "Deal."
the good of this city (1288)
Iyana Valerno can do many things—the Justice Courts ring with her voice of truth; she advises to the Council Chambers—but she cannot keep the family in one piece, not without Arnan.
Arnan's sister Menna takes Arna, her eldest child. She's of an age with her cousin Teila and they'll be taught together. Leion, though, is far too little to go with his sister. Iyana can't neglect her work. Portcallan needs her too. She's left scrambling for all the help she can find; calling in favours, and trying to hire people who meet her exacting standards.
A few years before, she'd thought it was all over between them. Arnan was too careless, too straightforward. He'd told her she was too unbending, too wrapped up in her causes to know how to live, but they'd worked things back around. They'd balanced each other out.
Alone, she's not enough to keep the family from breaking.
a brittle thread (1289)
They make an uncertain rope out of the sheets, an old idea from a play that's new to them. Arna tugs at it hard to test it. When it fails, she and her cousin Teila set to work tightening the knots all over again.
"You can't really climb down this," Teila says.
Arna sets her face as she ties her long black hair back in a tail, ready to make the attempt.
"What else can I do? Mother sits there and sends me away—passes Leio about to everyone she can think of. All she cares about is her work! She never even mentions Father. Leio's only a few streets away tonight, and I'm going to see him, poor baby. I don't care what she and Aunt do to me! Let them punish me for having a heart!"
"I mean," ventures Teila, leaning out the window, "you'll fall. You could die!"
Arna tugs at the sheets and when they hold this time, she flashes a triumphant grin at Teila. "It's not very far down. I'll be all right."
When she swings herself over the window sill, her nerve goes for a moment or two. It isn't a proper rope at all; it is further to the gated yard below than it seemed when she was safely in their bedroom. But she raises her head, stiffens her resolve, and catches hold of the rope.
She climbs.
She's not like Mother, and she'll prove it, whatever it takes.
pure as the driven (1306)
Tana reaches the end of Watersgate Street, and leans out over the sea wall. The tide is in, lapping at the steps below; the shingled beach entirely consumed by it. She pulls back and walks down the steps as fast as she dares with only the moon and a distant lamp to light her way.
"Leion!"
He's in the water, swimming out in shirt sleeves. His outer clothes are lying on the dry step beside her. Tana waves wildly at him. "What are you doing? Come back here!"
He turns his head, flashes a grin at her, but keeps on swimming.
Tana rests against the stone wall beside her, and recovers her breath. She'd torn down Watersgate after him, not knowing what was wrong. She still doesn't. Once she's got voice enough, she tries again. "Stop it! Come back here at once! It's dark—it's not safe!" It's a dangerous spot to swim at the best of times, and this time of the night is definitely not that. "Leion!"
He finally turns back towards her, making his way through the water until he catches hold of the lower step in front of her and hauls himself out, soaking the dry stones she's been sheltering on.
"The Guardians are here," Tana says. "Your stepfather is not pleased about you haring off like this. I can't say I blame him. What were you thinking?"
Leion reaches for his coat and pulls it about him. He's breathing hard, from the combined exercise of the dash down here and the swim. "I just needed to wash everything out of my head."
"Well, there's no need to be so literal about it. I don't think it works that way."
He laughs, shivering lightly in the salty breeze. "Funnily enough, it seems to. You ought to try it."
"After surviving the rest of today, the last thing I want to do is have a go at drowning myself, thank you. I have some sense!"
Leion looks down. "Yes. Wish I did. But there we are." He raises his head, and stares out to sea. "Not even anywhere near the stupidest thing I've done this summer."
"Come on," says Tana, moving downwards and putting her hand on his arm. "You need to get dry."
"Have they -?" He gets to his feet with her help, but halts. "They've taken Atino already—and everyone else?"
Tana nods. She understands a little now, what he wanted to wash away. At least she saw through things a bit sooner than Leion had; a little more easily. "Yes. The only loose end left is one idiot who ran away and threw himself into the Calla Strait, stars only knows why."
"I had to," says Leion, his gaze still drifting out with the waves. "I didn't know what else to do."
all the glittering blades (1311)
Kettah escapes after parade drill, dressed in pristine Starflower blue uniform. Her sights are set on one particular figure amongst the people who crowded around Chamber Square to watch.
"Leio!" She flings herself at him and hugs him.
"Not very military," he points out, drawing back. "I came to admire your progress. Well done."
Kettah pulls a face. She recognises the edge in his tone. "But?"
"But nothing!"
"Oh?" She folds her arms.
Leion raises his gaze to the bright blue sky. "No! It's only—is this really what you want to do?"
He's been asking her that in different ways ever since she first decided to enlist. She doesn't bother to give him the same answer again. She merely directs a weary look at him.
"Sorry," he murmurs.
"You wouldn't like it, I know, but I'm not you."
"Obviously. Thankfully for everyone."
Kettah hasn't got much time to spare —certainly not enough to wrangle this out. It's simple to her, even if Leion won't see it. She never wanted to sit around doing the paperwork, or spend years learning archaic bits of law. She takes after Father, and she'd probably have signed up for the Guardians if she could, but you can't join an organisation where your father is the most important person in it. She wants to be active—protect people. This works for her.
"I know what I'm doing," she says, moving away. He's the one who doesn't—lurking around the edges of everything, refusing to decide which side he's on. The rest of the family are all agreed on that, so she doesn't say it aloud. He's heard it all before, even more times than they've had the debate about the army. There isn't time for that, either.
Leion gives her a mock salute as she steps back. "Yes, yes," he says, and turns away. "But I'm your older brother—it's my job to worry."
Kettah shakes her head and runs back into the square, but she's smiling as she goes.
some conscience lost (1311)
Lynah Allin makes the rounds of her guests. She wears a brittle smile and has a practised question to ask each one. Silk rustles as she moves. Silver at her throat chokes her. Calla Island already feels like a beautiful cage.
This is no time for regrets—she has work to do. One of her guests has been sent by Tana Veldiner, and she hasn't found them yet. She moves onto the next, and the next, until a young man in a deep green velvet jacket turns, and a starflower pin on his lapel catches the light.
"Imor Allin," he says, giving her a formal nod in greeting.
He's younger than she'd expected; slim, with dark hair and eyes, slightly arched brows and an easy smile. But what do spies look like? She ought to know: she's studied herself in the mirror often enough.
"Welcome to Allin House," she says, and offers him her hand. Her fingers tremble against his. Until now, this had been theory, not practice. If Vollo ever finds out—if he ever understands—there's no telling what he will do. "You are?"
He grips her cold hand briefly, reassuringly, in his warm one. "Leion Valerno." He glances about the main reception room. "I always wondered what it was like over here. Is it really as fabulous as they say?"
"I'll give you the tour and you can decide," she says, with a laugh. "After I've greeted everyone else. Remind me."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world."
Lynah takes him into the gallery. Rows of Allins and Hyans gaze down at them; the past keeping a beady eye on the future.
"Not sure I'd like to meet this one on a dark night," Leion says, gesturing at the nearest portrait. He casts her a mischievous look. "Not your mother, I trust?"
Lynah shakes her head. "No. I think she's probably only legendary, anyway."
"For which we can all be thankful," says Leion. He takes a couple of steps further on and studies a more recent framed pencil sketch. "Sure you're ready for this?"
Lynah merely shrugs. If she's not, then what is the point of it all? It's not as if she's got anywhere to run, not any more. She'd like to ask him, how it feels—all the lying—but on a second glance, she doubts he'd know. He can come and go, and remain himself. She must live in the lie, and there's no doing that without betraying someone; without losing part of your soul.
She's in too deep already. She guides him towards Vollo's portrait. "My husband," she says, in warning.
"I know Vollo, of course," says Leion, barely giving it a glance.
Which only proves that he doesn't.
a man of my company (1312)
Chiulder keeps to the shadows, watching Leion walk down Ship Way. He's whistling to himself as he goes—that spy, that Valerno—untroubled by his conscience. He doesn't even raise his head as he passes close by Chiulder.
Chiulder draws back further into the narrow side-street, pressing his hand against the stone wall of the nearest house. "Come near me again," he whispers at Valerno's retreating back, "and I'll make you regret it."
He watches, wary, until Valerno is safely out of sight, his heart pounding all the while. Valerno pretended to be one of them, but he wasn't; he was a liar sent by Tam Jadinor to ruin everything. Chiulder hisses after him. Nothing ever ends fairly. It was Chiulder who got to spend all this time in prison; Atino Barra who ran away—and Valerno who's still merrily walking around Portcallan in the sunshine.
"Go on," he mutters under his breath to the shadow Valerno has left behind him. "Go away. Leave me alone! Or next time I'll kill you."
Empty threats only leave a bitter taste in his mouth. Atino was the one who knew the secrets that could take Chiulder's gifts to that length, and Atino's gone for good. But Chiulder's come back to Portcallan for a reason. He was close to Atino; he heard whispers. He's hoping someone else might be able to complete Atino's work.
If there's any truth in it, he'll make Valerno pay.
tournament of shadows (1313)
Leion races down through the steep streets of Portcallan's eastern quarter as fast as he can, his quarry only barely in sight. Rounding the corner of Tower Street, Leion pauses in Watersgate Market to catch his breath. He puts a hand to the supporting pole of one of the stalls for a moment, before spurring himself on, ignoring the stitch in his side.
Tana sent the boy's parents to him, to see if he could find out why a mild ability to summon a spark here or there, or heat up a hearthstone has spiralled so far out of control.
The hill's incline is steep enough, that momentum carries on past the point of stopping, hitting the sea wall. He leans out over it, searching for a glimpse of the boy. He's sure he was heading this way. Where else would you go when you're worried about setting things alight, but to the largest body of water around?
He spots him then: a light figure in a tan-coloured coat, stalking right across the beach and straight into the sea. He doesn't stop there, carrying on in the same line through the waves.
"Stars, no," says Leion. The hairs stand up on the back of his head. He pushes off from the wall, leaping down the steps to land, sliding and crunching on the shingle. People near by turn their heads.
"Stop him," he yells, trying to wave their attention to the boy in the sea, but he can't afford to wait around until they do.
He makes it to the water's edge, and throws off his jacket, kicks off his shoes and wades in, yelling after the boy. He's waist deep and his throat hoarse with no luck, before he hears a splashing beside him and turns to find a Sea Watch Captain calling out as she wades across to join him.
There's a fishing boat not far away, and they've turned in towards them, too. One of the crew jumps into the water on a rope; they're all trying to find the boy.
He's gone. The current in Calla Strait is notorious, and he hadn't even been making any effort to swim or fight it.
Leion bends over on the beach, coughing, salt water in his mouth and nose; all out of breath again. He sinks down onto the shingle; his head in his hands.
"What happened?" asks the Captain as she makes it across to join him. "Did you see?"
There's a bitter taste in Leion's mouth that has nothing to do with salt water. He shakes himself and stands, dripping wet at the edge of the waves. He glances around for his shoes and jacket, but they're a couple of lengths further down the shore. He brushes wet hair out of his eyes.
"No," he says. "Not really."
"What a waste," murmurs the Captain, shading her eyes with her hand as she gazes out to the horizon. It's much too late for hoping that boy is going to reappear.
"Oh, yes," agrees Leion, his mouth turning down at the corners. "A bloody waste."
It's worse than that. He can't prove anything; he hasn't got enough to go on. An increase in affinity doesn't add up to something he could take to a court, and it doesn't lead him back to the guilty party. It's nothing anyone would recognise it as a weapon. But he knows, down in his gut, that this is murder.
It isn't the first. It won't be the last.
a last good act (1285)
Arnence Sola stands in front of the City Recorder. She's been here many times before. She's even been the other side of the desk—she held that very position for a while, long ago. That was back in what she'd call the bad old days, if those that went before hadn't been even worse.
The man turns the pages over; the distinctive noise of it takes her back. She wrote down the names of the dead and those who were prisoners. She can hear the scratch of her pen against the paper in her head.
She's been here in the usual way plenty of times, too: her marriage, standing here with Lin and Poll to reaffirm their vows. She brought her children's names to be taken down. Lately it's been nothing but deaths, but today she's here to record a birth.
Arnence straightens herself and ignores the stiffness in her old bones, moving forward now her turns has come, ready to give the Recorder the name of her newest grandchild. It's a good name, a hopeful one. Only really after Iyana's mother, of course, but it means 'of Laon', 'of the light'. Arnence will probably never come here again—it'll be someone else's turn to bring news of her death next, no doubt. It's a good note to finish on.
"Valerno," she tells the official, as he squints at the form she's given him. "Leion."
i need light (1290)
Seahra's father, Tam Jadinor, marries again, and gives her, in addition to a stepmother, a ready-made sister and brother. The sister doesn't live with them, so she doesn't count properly, but Leion does.
He's only five. He's the best present Seah's ever been given; the most absorbing toy in the world. The Valernos have been through some things, Father tells her. She must be patient with him. She sees almost nothing of that. Leion's a sunny little soul and he responds to her adoration with his own, following her around the house every time he gets the chance.
Sometimes, he cries in the night, and she hears him, only just going up to bed herself, or awake before Father and Iyana. She slips into his room and lets him have her lightstone lamp. It's square with coloured patterns on the glass, and looking at it instantly quietens his sobs. She sits precariously on the edge of the bed and brushes the hair back from his damp and heated face.
"It's all right," she tells him. "You're safe here. My father will never let anything hurt you."
At eleven, she believes that entirely and holds them both secure in it.
dynamite and a woman (1313)
Viyony grips the edge of the battlements on top of Portcallan Tower. Her gaze wanders from the view of the city spreading out far below, to Leion, who's busy explaining how this quarter used to be a separate settlement, long ago, pointing out signs of it to her. He has to raise his voice to be heard over the wind. Viyony nods, but she's not really listening. Instead, she's imagining what it would be like to abandon her terrible, vital plan. Perhaps she and Leion, together, might be enough to deal with Eseray's problems—with any problem.
As daydreams go, it's impossible, of course. You can't take Leion out of Portcallan for good, any more than you can keep her away from Eseray for long, and there are no Powers these days that run to reshaping the land to dispense with all the hundredlengths between them.
Her silent sigh is lost on the wind.
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A whole family of Jeremy Northams, it's incredible they needed corruption with that charisma.
Instead, she's imagining what it would be like to abandon her terrible, vital plan. Perhaps she and Leion, together, might be enough to deal with Eseray's problems—with any problem.
I know this sketch counterpoints the actual story, but it also pairs well with the Edwardian AU.
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A whole family of Jeremy Northams, it's incredible they needed corruption with that charisma.
Which made me laugh a lot. I just meant they have similar colouring etc, not so much the TV thing where everybody's ancestors are played by the same actor(s) in flashbacks etc. XD XD XD
And, oops, I sort of just went at this without explanation because random scenes that will be expanded or explained later & also forcing myself unwisely for the challenge, probably, but, ahem. ahem. It's the families like the Barras, the Hyans, the Allins, the Modelens who were the corrupt elite (and some of them no doubt still are). Leion's relatives were on the side of opposing the corruption with too much force, and Portcallan society is by and large at this point way more jittery about the temporary military dictatorship than the whole corruption thing.
I know this sketch counterpoints the actual story, but it also pairs well with the Edwardian AU.
<3<3<3 And so it should. :-)
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