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rainbowfic2012-04-15 11:23 am
kay_brooke) wrote in rainbowfic2012-04-15 11:23 am
Burnt Umber #26, Screaming Green #12, Tyrian Purple #7
Name: kay_brooke
Story: The Myrrosta
Colors: Burnt Umber #26 (Salvesen Range), Screaming Green #12 (the natural man has only two primal passions, to get and beget), Tyrian Purple #7 (three seeds)
Styles/Supplies: Frame, Eraser (Merrus/Jay AU), Graffiti for the Resurrection Challenge (Eraser challenge), Pastels fororigfic_bingo card prompt "holy place"
Word Count: 3,238
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Ava meets her father.
Notes: It is the return of the Merrus/Jay AU, which I haven't written in over a month. So. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Ava had all her dolls lined up in a row as if they were children at lessons, if much quieter and stiller than real students would be. Playing teacher was Ava's favorite game, and she knew she would probably grow up to be a priestess and someday teach children in the temple for real.
But today her play was half-hearted. She kept glancing out the window, watching the suns cross the sky, the shadows shortening as noontime came around, then lengthening again as the suns moved west.
She had been in the playroom for hours.
That wasn't unusual; there had been many times in the past she'd spent the whole day in the playroom, entertaining herself with her dolls and other toys, taking occasional breaks to spy on the inner courtyard that lay right beneath her window, watching the women of the temple hurry back and forth on their various errands.
But those days were different. Those were days when it was too cold or rainy to play outside, or days when she just didn't feel like playing anywhere else. Those were days when she could leave the playroom whenever she wanted, to go play elsewhere or head to the kitchens to sneak a bit of bread before dinner, or charm a sweet biscuit from one of the cooks.
Today she could not leave, because she was locked in.
There was something happening outside her door, in the rest of the temple. Her mother had woken her earlier than usual that morning and carried her to the playroom, despite Ava's grumbles.
“Mama, I'm still tired,” she complained as her mother deposited her on the playroom floor.
“Then you may go back to sleep,” said her mother, pointing to the pile of blankets that were supposed to be for naps but which Ava usually used to build cloth forts, “but you must stay in this room until someone comes to fetch you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Ava, because her mother looked grumpy, and she really was still tired, and those blankets did look warm and comfortable. Not once did it occur to her that she would be locked in the room for the whole day.
Ava's mother left, and Ava climbed into the blankets and fell back asleep, only waking again when both suns were fully risen. She stretched, padded over to the door, and turned the handle. The handle stuck fast; the door was locked. Frowning, Ava turned to her dolls.
Someone came to the door not long after, and Ava stood up in anticipation, but it was only one of the temple priestesses, a young acolyte who entered bearing toast and butter, a small bowl of porridge sweetened with honey, and a glass of milk. “Your breakfast,” said the priestess, placing the food on a table.
“But I don't eat breakfast in here,” said Ava. Usually she ate with her mother in their rooms. On feast days they would go to the main room of the temple and eat a lavish breakfast with the priestesses and other women of the temple. Ava had never eaten her meals in the playroom, and in fact she was usually forbidden to take snacks in there, though she often did.
“Today you must stay in here,” said the priestess. “Please, eat.”
“Why must I stay in here?”
“It is not my place to tell you,” said the priestess, and she slipped out.
Ava ate only a little of her breakfast, though toast and butter was her favorite. Her curiosity burned too hot for her to feel hungry. Once she was finished she called through the door—locked again, she had tried it—that someone needed to come and take her used dishes away. No one answered.
Ava tried her best to play the rest of the morning, but her usual games couldn't keep her interest. She stood at the window for a long time, trying to glean whatever information she could from the activity in the courtyard, but there didn't seem to be anything unusual going on: women working in the courtyard garden under the clear light of the suns, women hurrying in and out of the passageways connecting the courtyard to the temple, women using their free time to take a leisurely stroll outside in the warm spring weather.
Ava tried to open the window, to call out to the women below—maybe one of them could tell her what was going on—but the window hadn't yet been freed from its winter seals, and so was stuck. She knocked on the glass and waved, but the courtyard was far below and the women made no sign they could see or hear her.
The dishes were taken away at noontime by another young priestess, who had brought Ava's lunch of bread and cheese, a plain pear, and a small salad. This time there was only water to drink. Ava frowned and wondered if she was being punished for something. She had been punished many times before, but never had she been locked in the playroom and given the simplest fare to eat.
“Please, why am I in here?” she asked the priestess.
The woman shook her head. “I am only here to deliver your food.”
“But why?” Ava insisted. Her curiosity had subsided and was quickly being replaced with anger. Why wouldn't anyone tell her anything? “Why must I eat in here? Why can't I eat with my mother? I always eat with my mother!”
“Your mother is doing other things right now,” said the priestess, and then she left.
Ava threw herself angrily on the blankets as she heard the familiar sound of the key turning in the lock. What was her mother doing and why couldn't Ava know about it? Why couldn't her mother do other things while Ava played outside, like normal? Had her mother forgotten about her? Had she run away from her?
Anger turned to icy fear, and Ava spent the next hour hugging the blankets, tears occasionally spilling from her eyes. But she soon cried herself out, and then there was nothing to do but go back to her dolls. She took only a couple bites of her lunch bread, then tried to focus on being teacher. But she couldn't manage it, her gaze more and more often turned to her window as the day grew later.
There was a sound at the door. Ava jumped to her feet, excited. The position of the suns told her it wasn't time for supper yet, so maybe someone had come to let her out of the playroom finally. But the scraping continued for several long moments, and it didn't sound like a key. The door opened slowly, and Ava's salvation appeared through it.
“Tarika!” Ava cried joyfully as the older girl slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She turned around and held her finger to her lips, and Ava stood silently as Tarika pressed her ear to the door and waited. In her hand she held a hair pin, one she had obviously pulled from her own head, letting one side of her tied-back hair tail fall into her face.
“What's happening?” Ava whispered when Tarika finally straightened.
“I don't know,” said Tarika. “Everyone is acting strangely today. I've been stuck in lessons since early this morning. They never make me stay in lessons that long. So I snuck away when Shell left to use the latrine.” She grinned and held up the hair pin. “I'm glad your mother taught me to pick locks. It took me forever to find you. I broke into your rooms at first.”
Ava's eyes widened. “She didn't teach me to pick locks!”
“She probably will when you're older,” said Tarika. “I only just learned.”
That made Ava feel better. “Won't you get in trouble for being here?”
Tarika shrugged. “Then I'll be punished. So what?”
“So what?” Ava repeated, hugging herself. She admired Tarika so much. The eleven-year-old was so much braver than she was. She hoped to be that brave when she was that age.
“Come on,” said Tarika. “Do you want to get out?”
“I don't know,” said Ava. She would be punished if she was caught, and she wasn't as fearless of that as Tarika. But being kept in here was like a punishment, too, so how could it be worse if she snuck out? “I guess?”
Tarika slowly opened the door, looking back at Ava and grinning, but the grin slid right off her face as the door swung away and the form of Ava's mother appeared in the frame. She didn't look happy. Her mouth was set in a frown, and the lines around her eyes were tight like they got when she was sad. Ava took a step back.
“I'm sorry,” Tarika said immediately. “I was just visiting Ava. We didn't go anywhere.”
Ava's mother blinked and looked at her as if she hadn't even realized the girl was there. “Tarika,” she said in a soft voice. “They've been looking for you. Go back to the library, please.”
Ava waited to see if Tarika would talk back, but the older girl merely shot her an apologetic look as she slunk out the door.
“Mama,” said Ava. “What's happening? I've been in here all day and no one will let me out.”
“I'm sorry, baby,” said her mother, bending down to hug her. “We had a visitor come early this morning, and I didn't want him to see you.”
“Why not?” Ava asked.
Her mother sighed. “Do you want to meet him?”
Ava pulled back and looked at her mother. “Is he a bad man?” Why else would her mother want to hide her away from him?
“He's not a bad man.” Her mother stood and called out the door. “You may come in.”
The man who appeared behind her mother was unlike any man Ava had ever seen—though she honestly hadn't seen many. The temple was for priestesses and women seeking sanctuary only. Sometimes men came in to the main room to pray or leave offerings to the gods, but Ava had never spoken to one. But the man in the playroom now was unlike even the ones she had seen from a distance. He was not much taller than her mother. His body was slight and his face unlined and hairless like he was still a boy, but his deep blue eyes held more years than anyone Ava had ever seen, even the oldest priestesses of the temple. He had sharp features, a thin nose and a pointed chin, and it was all topped with a head of short black curls. He was dressed in a simple brown robe, not much different from the ones the priestesses wore, and his hands were tucked into the sleeves.
Ava tugged on her own dark curls. The man's eyes were familiar. She saw those eyes whenever she looked into a mirror or a puddle of water. And there was something about him, something that surrounded him and reminded her of humming, though it wasn't a humming she could hear. She knew who he was, but she asked anyway. “Are you my father?”
“I told you she looks just like you,” her mother murmured as the man stooped down to look at Ava more closely.
“That's what I'm told, yes,” he said quietly. Now that he was closer Ava was startled to see that his ears, mostly covered by his hair, had delicate points to them. And she had never seen anyone, not even Tarika who was born in Arkijt, with such pale skin.
“Are you a salkiy?” she asked, awed. She had heard of salkiys before, in stories and her history lessons, but she had never seen one. There weren't supposed to be any in Kandel.
“I am.”
“Am I a salkiy, too?” Ava's fingers immediately went to her ears, as if she feared they had grown points within the last few moments. Feeling nothing but their normal rounded edges, she lowered her shaking hands. If the man was a salkiy, how could be be her father?
“You're only half salkiy,” he said. “You don't look the same as us.”
Ava was only six, but many things in her life were suddenly making sense. “Is that why the other women don't like me?”
The salkiy man turned a sharp look to Ava's mother. “Tell me they haven't hurt her.”
Her mother shook her head. “Of course not. Do you think I would stay if they did? But I cannot say they are entirely without prejudice.”
The salkiy stood back up. “I would like to speak with her alone, if I may.”
Ava's mother looked uncertain, but she nodded and stepped out of the doorway.
“Mama!” cried Ava, fearful.
“He will not hurt you, love,” said her mother. “I will be right outside this door the whole time. Do not be frightened.”
Ava nodded, trying to make herself as brave as Tarika. Her mother nodded back and disappeared into the hallway, pulling the door to but not shutting it entirely. That made Ava feel better.
The salkiy paced the room, looking at the lined-up dolls, the remains of Ava's lunch, the rumpled pile of blankets. He peered for a moment out the window and down into the courtyard, then turned to look at her. “Is this where you sleep?”
“This is the playroom,” said Ava. “I sleep in the room next to Mama's.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How old are you?”
“Six.” Wouldn't he already know that, if he was her father?
“Do you feel well?”
“Do I feel well?”
He stopped pacing. “Yes. Are you well? Do you feel ill? Have you ever felt ill?”
Ava shrank back under the barrage of questions. “Last winter I had a fever,” she said, remembering those uncomfortable days when her skin burned but she couldn't stop shivering. “Mama made me stay in bed and drink soup.”
He shook his head. “Not that sort of ill. Have you ever been in pain? Pain that comes from the inside, like it's trying to tear you apart from the middle?”
“No,” Ava whispered. She knew the pain of a bee sting when she got too close to one in the gardens. She knew the pain of a stubbed toe when she ran too quickly through the temple halls in her bare feet. She had never felt a pain like he described, and she was glad.
“Are you absolutely sure? You must tell me the truth.”
She nodded, too frightened to speak.
His gaze softened; he seemed to realize he was scaring her. “I'm sorry. But I have to make sure. You're at the right age for your Gifts to start manifesting, and if you cannot control them they will make you sick.”
“My gifts?” Ava thought of the stories she had heard about salkiys. “Do I have magic?” The thought thrilled and terrified her at the same time. It was said some of the priestesses had magic, though she had never seen it herself. Salkiys, though, were supposed to have greater magic than the priestesses.
He gritted his teeth. “No,” he said. “But you have salkiy Gifts. They'll be weak because your mother is human, but they can still cause damage if uncontrolled.”
“Am I going to get sick?” she asked. The thrill faded. She had no idea how to control magic. She wasn't even sure what it was.
“I'll teach you to control them, when they manifest,” said the salkiy after a moment. “That way you won't get sick.”
“Are you going to live here with us?” Ava asked, doubt creeping in. Men were not allowed to live in the temple. They had their own place, in another part of the city. None of the other children of the temple had both mother and father. Some, like her, lived with their mothers only. Others, like Tarika, were orphans who had been taken in. Did salkiy men count as regular men? She didn't know if salkiys were allowed to live in the temple, either., but she didn't think the other women would like it even if they were.
“No,” he said. “You're coming to live with me.” He knelt own again. “Would you like that?”
“What about Mama?”
“She'll come, too.”
Ava bit her lip. Leave the temple? That was a scary thought. It was the only place she knew. She would have to leave behind the playroom, the familiar hallways, the courtyard garden. She would have to leave behind Tarika. “Can Tarika come with us?” she asked, the thought just occurring to her. Tarika was an orphan. Ava's mother and the salkiy man could make her their daughter, too, and she and Tarika would finally become sisters for real.
“Who is Tarika?” The salkiy looked confused.
“She's my best friend,” said Ava. “She has no parents. We could take her, too.”
He shook his head. “We can't take her. She must stay here.”
“Then I don't want to go, either.”
“You need to,” he said, looking sad. “I don't want to take you way from your home. But I can't stay here, and I don't want you to get sick.”
Right, the sick thing. “You promise Mama is coming?”
He nodded. “She's coming.”
“All right.” She looked at him for a moment, into the eyes that were so like her own. “Are you really my father?”
“Yes.”
“Then why have you been gone for so long? Didn't you like me?”
“Oh,” he said, and suddenly his hand was cupping her cheek. She swallowed hard when she saw his unnaturally long fingers, but his hand was comforting. “I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't even know about you. I was gone before your mother had you.”
“But why did you leave?”
His eyes were so sad. “The women here didn't like me.”
“They don't like me, either.”
“So I heard.” He moved his hand away. “But you're my daughter, and I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago. We're going away, all three of us. We're going to travel across the sea, and we're going to find a proper house to live in. Does that sound nice?”
She had never really thought about living in a house before. The temple had always been home enough for her. But crossing the sea sounded exciting, and she liked the idea of having a mother and a father, even if her father was strange-looking. So she nodded. “Yes, it does.”
He smiled. “Good. Your mother will help you pack your things. We'll be leaving for the coast tomorrow morning.” He stood up and opened the door, and Ava's mother was there almost immediately.
The two conferred in low voices while Ava carefully put away the dolls. She kept one, the one that belonged to her because her mother had bought it for her. She would have to say goodbye to the others, because they belonged to all the children. And she would have to say goodbye to Tarika before she left. And the teachers who had been kind to her. And the cooks who always let her sneak off with sweets before dinner. And the head priestess, because Ava knew it was polite to thank the one who had let you live under their roof.
So many goodbyes. But she couldn't feel too sad. She couldn't wait to find out what happened next.
kay_brookeStory: The Myrrosta
Colors: Burnt Umber #26 (Salvesen Range), Screaming Green #12 (the natural man has only two primal passions, to get and beget), Tyrian Purple #7 (three seeds)
Styles/Supplies: Frame, Eraser (Merrus/Jay AU), Graffiti for the Resurrection Challenge (Eraser challenge), Pastels for
origfic_bingo card prompt "holy place"Word Count: 3,238
Rating/Warnings: PG-13; no standard warnings apply
Summary: Ava meets her father.
Notes: It is the return of the Merrus/Jay AU, which I haven't written in over a month. So. Constructive criticism is welcome, either through comments or PM.
Ava had all her dolls lined up in a row as if they were children at lessons, if much quieter and stiller than real students would be. Playing teacher was Ava's favorite game, and she knew she would probably grow up to be a priestess and someday teach children in the temple for real.
But today her play was half-hearted. She kept glancing out the window, watching the suns cross the sky, the shadows shortening as noontime came around, then lengthening again as the suns moved west.
She had been in the playroom for hours.
That wasn't unusual; there had been many times in the past she'd spent the whole day in the playroom, entertaining herself with her dolls and other toys, taking occasional breaks to spy on the inner courtyard that lay right beneath her window, watching the women of the temple hurry back and forth on their various errands.
But those days were different. Those were days when it was too cold or rainy to play outside, or days when she just didn't feel like playing anywhere else. Those were days when she could leave the playroom whenever she wanted, to go play elsewhere or head to the kitchens to sneak a bit of bread before dinner, or charm a sweet biscuit from one of the cooks.
Today she could not leave, because she was locked in.
There was something happening outside her door, in the rest of the temple. Her mother had woken her earlier than usual that morning and carried her to the playroom, despite Ava's grumbles.
“Mama, I'm still tired,” she complained as her mother deposited her on the playroom floor.
“Then you may go back to sleep,” said her mother, pointing to the pile of blankets that were supposed to be for naps but which Ava usually used to build cloth forts, “but you must stay in this room until someone comes to fetch you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” said Ava, because her mother looked grumpy, and she really was still tired, and those blankets did look warm and comfortable. Not once did it occur to her that she would be locked in the room for the whole day.
Ava's mother left, and Ava climbed into the blankets and fell back asleep, only waking again when both suns were fully risen. She stretched, padded over to the door, and turned the handle. The handle stuck fast; the door was locked. Frowning, Ava turned to her dolls.
Someone came to the door not long after, and Ava stood up in anticipation, but it was only one of the temple priestesses, a young acolyte who entered bearing toast and butter, a small bowl of porridge sweetened with honey, and a glass of milk. “Your breakfast,” said the priestess, placing the food on a table.
“But I don't eat breakfast in here,” said Ava. Usually she ate with her mother in their rooms. On feast days they would go to the main room of the temple and eat a lavish breakfast with the priestesses and other women of the temple. Ava had never eaten her meals in the playroom, and in fact she was usually forbidden to take snacks in there, though she often did.
“Today you must stay in here,” said the priestess. “Please, eat.”
“Why must I stay in here?”
“It is not my place to tell you,” said the priestess, and she slipped out.
Ava ate only a little of her breakfast, though toast and butter was her favorite. Her curiosity burned too hot for her to feel hungry. Once she was finished she called through the door—locked again, she had tried it—that someone needed to come and take her used dishes away. No one answered.
Ava tried her best to play the rest of the morning, but her usual games couldn't keep her interest. She stood at the window for a long time, trying to glean whatever information she could from the activity in the courtyard, but there didn't seem to be anything unusual going on: women working in the courtyard garden under the clear light of the suns, women hurrying in and out of the passageways connecting the courtyard to the temple, women using their free time to take a leisurely stroll outside in the warm spring weather.
Ava tried to open the window, to call out to the women below—maybe one of them could tell her what was going on—but the window hadn't yet been freed from its winter seals, and so was stuck. She knocked on the glass and waved, but the courtyard was far below and the women made no sign they could see or hear her.
The dishes were taken away at noontime by another young priestess, who had brought Ava's lunch of bread and cheese, a plain pear, and a small salad. This time there was only water to drink. Ava frowned and wondered if she was being punished for something. She had been punished many times before, but never had she been locked in the playroom and given the simplest fare to eat.
“Please, why am I in here?” she asked the priestess.
The woman shook her head. “I am only here to deliver your food.”
“But why?” Ava insisted. Her curiosity had subsided and was quickly being replaced with anger. Why wouldn't anyone tell her anything? “Why must I eat in here? Why can't I eat with my mother? I always eat with my mother!”
“Your mother is doing other things right now,” said the priestess, and then she left.
Ava threw herself angrily on the blankets as she heard the familiar sound of the key turning in the lock. What was her mother doing and why couldn't Ava know about it? Why couldn't her mother do other things while Ava played outside, like normal? Had her mother forgotten about her? Had she run away from her?
Anger turned to icy fear, and Ava spent the next hour hugging the blankets, tears occasionally spilling from her eyes. But she soon cried herself out, and then there was nothing to do but go back to her dolls. She took only a couple bites of her lunch bread, then tried to focus on being teacher. But she couldn't manage it, her gaze more and more often turned to her window as the day grew later.
There was a sound at the door. Ava jumped to her feet, excited. The position of the suns told her it wasn't time for supper yet, so maybe someone had come to let her out of the playroom finally. But the scraping continued for several long moments, and it didn't sound like a key. The door opened slowly, and Ava's salvation appeared through it.
“Tarika!” Ava cried joyfully as the older girl slipped inside and closed the door behind her. She turned around and held her finger to her lips, and Ava stood silently as Tarika pressed her ear to the door and waited. In her hand she held a hair pin, one she had obviously pulled from her own head, letting one side of her tied-back hair tail fall into her face.
“What's happening?” Ava whispered when Tarika finally straightened.
“I don't know,” said Tarika. “Everyone is acting strangely today. I've been stuck in lessons since early this morning. They never make me stay in lessons that long. So I snuck away when Shell left to use the latrine.” She grinned and held up the hair pin. “I'm glad your mother taught me to pick locks. It took me forever to find you. I broke into your rooms at first.”
Ava's eyes widened. “She didn't teach me to pick locks!”
“She probably will when you're older,” said Tarika. “I only just learned.”
That made Ava feel better. “Won't you get in trouble for being here?”
Tarika shrugged. “Then I'll be punished. So what?”
“So what?” Ava repeated, hugging herself. She admired Tarika so much. The eleven-year-old was so much braver than she was. She hoped to be that brave when she was that age.
“Come on,” said Tarika. “Do you want to get out?”
“I don't know,” said Ava. She would be punished if she was caught, and she wasn't as fearless of that as Tarika. But being kept in here was like a punishment, too, so how could it be worse if she snuck out? “I guess?”
Tarika slowly opened the door, looking back at Ava and grinning, but the grin slid right off her face as the door swung away and the form of Ava's mother appeared in the frame. She didn't look happy. Her mouth was set in a frown, and the lines around her eyes were tight like they got when she was sad. Ava took a step back.
“I'm sorry,” Tarika said immediately. “I was just visiting Ava. We didn't go anywhere.”
Ava's mother blinked and looked at her as if she hadn't even realized the girl was there. “Tarika,” she said in a soft voice. “They've been looking for you. Go back to the library, please.”
Ava waited to see if Tarika would talk back, but the older girl merely shot her an apologetic look as she slunk out the door.
“Mama,” said Ava. “What's happening? I've been in here all day and no one will let me out.”
“I'm sorry, baby,” said her mother, bending down to hug her. “We had a visitor come early this morning, and I didn't want him to see you.”
“Why not?” Ava asked.
Her mother sighed. “Do you want to meet him?”
Ava pulled back and looked at her mother. “Is he a bad man?” Why else would her mother want to hide her away from him?
“He's not a bad man.” Her mother stood and called out the door. “You may come in.”
The man who appeared behind her mother was unlike any man Ava had ever seen—though she honestly hadn't seen many. The temple was for priestesses and women seeking sanctuary only. Sometimes men came in to the main room to pray or leave offerings to the gods, but Ava had never spoken to one. But the man in the playroom now was unlike even the ones she had seen from a distance. He was not much taller than her mother. His body was slight and his face unlined and hairless like he was still a boy, but his deep blue eyes held more years than anyone Ava had ever seen, even the oldest priestesses of the temple. He had sharp features, a thin nose and a pointed chin, and it was all topped with a head of short black curls. He was dressed in a simple brown robe, not much different from the ones the priestesses wore, and his hands were tucked into the sleeves.
Ava tugged on her own dark curls. The man's eyes were familiar. She saw those eyes whenever she looked into a mirror or a puddle of water. And there was something about him, something that surrounded him and reminded her of humming, though it wasn't a humming she could hear. She knew who he was, but she asked anyway. “Are you my father?”
“I told you she looks just like you,” her mother murmured as the man stooped down to look at Ava more closely.
“That's what I'm told, yes,” he said quietly. Now that he was closer Ava was startled to see that his ears, mostly covered by his hair, had delicate points to them. And she had never seen anyone, not even Tarika who was born in Arkijt, with such pale skin.
“Are you a salkiy?” she asked, awed. She had heard of salkiys before, in stories and her history lessons, but she had never seen one. There weren't supposed to be any in Kandel.
“I am.”
“Am I a salkiy, too?” Ava's fingers immediately went to her ears, as if she feared they had grown points within the last few moments. Feeling nothing but their normal rounded edges, she lowered her shaking hands. If the man was a salkiy, how could be be her father?
“You're only half salkiy,” he said. “You don't look the same as us.”
Ava was only six, but many things in her life were suddenly making sense. “Is that why the other women don't like me?”
The salkiy man turned a sharp look to Ava's mother. “Tell me they haven't hurt her.”
Her mother shook her head. “Of course not. Do you think I would stay if they did? But I cannot say they are entirely without prejudice.”
The salkiy stood back up. “I would like to speak with her alone, if I may.”
Ava's mother looked uncertain, but she nodded and stepped out of the doorway.
“Mama!” cried Ava, fearful.
“He will not hurt you, love,” said her mother. “I will be right outside this door the whole time. Do not be frightened.”
Ava nodded, trying to make herself as brave as Tarika. Her mother nodded back and disappeared into the hallway, pulling the door to but not shutting it entirely. That made Ava feel better.
The salkiy paced the room, looking at the lined-up dolls, the remains of Ava's lunch, the rumpled pile of blankets. He peered for a moment out the window and down into the courtyard, then turned to look at her. “Is this where you sleep?”
“This is the playroom,” said Ava. “I sleep in the room next to Mama's.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “How old are you?”
“Six.” Wouldn't he already know that, if he was her father?
“Do you feel well?”
“Do I feel well?”
He stopped pacing. “Yes. Are you well? Do you feel ill? Have you ever felt ill?”
Ava shrank back under the barrage of questions. “Last winter I had a fever,” she said, remembering those uncomfortable days when her skin burned but she couldn't stop shivering. “Mama made me stay in bed and drink soup.”
He shook his head. “Not that sort of ill. Have you ever been in pain? Pain that comes from the inside, like it's trying to tear you apart from the middle?”
“No,” Ava whispered. She knew the pain of a bee sting when she got too close to one in the gardens. She knew the pain of a stubbed toe when she ran too quickly through the temple halls in her bare feet. She had never felt a pain like he described, and she was glad.
“Are you absolutely sure? You must tell me the truth.”
She nodded, too frightened to speak.
His gaze softened; he seemed to realize he was scaring her. “I'm sorry. But I have to make sure. You're at the right age for your Gifts to start manifesting, and if you cannot control them they will make you sick.”
“My gifts?” Ava thought of the stories she had heard about salkiys. “Do I have magic?” The thought thrilled and terrified her at the same time. It was said some of the priestesses had magic, though she had never seen it herself. Salkiys, though, were supposed to have greater magic than the priestesses.
He gritted his teeth. “No,” he said. “But you have salkiy Gifts. They'll be weak because your mother is human, but they can still cause damage if uncontrolled.”
“Am I going to get sick?” she asked. The thrill faded. She had no idea how to control magic. She wasn't even sure what it was.
“I'll teach you to control them, when they manifest,” said the salkiy after a moment. “That way you won't get sick.”
“Are you going to live here with us?” Ava asked, doubt creeping in. Men were not allowed to live in the temple. They had their own place, in another part of the city. None of the other children of the temple had both mother and father. Some, like her, lived with their mothers only. Others, like Tarika, were orphans who had been taken in. Did salkiy men count as regular men? She didn't know if salkiys were allowed to live in the temple, either., but she didn't think the other women would like it even if they were.
“No,” he said. “You're coming to live with me.” He knelt own again. “Would you like that?”
“What about Mama?”
“She'll come, too.”
Ava bit her lip. Leave the temple? That was a scary thought. It was the only place she knew. She would have to leave behind the playroom, the familiar hallways, the courtyard garden. She would have to leave behind Tarika. “Can Tarika come with us?” she asked, the thought just occurring to her. Tarika was an orphan. Ava's mother and the salkiy man could make her their daughter, too, and she and Tarika would finally become sisters for real.
“Who is Tarika?” The salkiy looked confused.
“She's my best friend,” said Ava. “She has no parents. We could take her, too.”
He shook his head. “We can't take her. She must stay here.”
“Then I don't want to go, either.”
“You need to,” he said, looking sad. “I don't want to take you way from your home. But I can't stay here, and I don't want you to get sick.”
Right, the sick thing. “You promise Mama is coming?”
He nodded. “She's coming.”
“All right.” She looked at him for a moment, into the eyes that were so like her own. “Are you really my father?”
“Yes.”
“Then why have you been gone for so long? Didn't you like me?”
“Oh,” he said, and suddenly his hand was cupping her cheek. She swallowed hard when she saw his unnaturally long fingers, but his hand was comforting. “I didn't mean to leave you. I didn't even know about you. I was gone before your mother had you.”
“But why did you leave?”
His eyes were so sad. “The women here didn't like me.”
“They don't like me, either.”
“So I heard.” He moved his hand away. “But you're my daughter, and I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago. We're going away, all three of us. We're going to travel across the sea, and we're going to find a proper house to live in. Does that sound nice?”
She had never really thought about living in a house before. The temple had always been home enough for her. But crossing the sea sounded exciting, and she liked the idea of having a mother and a father, even if her father was strange-looking. So she nodded. “Yes, it does.”
He smiled. “Good. Your mother will help you pack your things. We'll be leaving for the coast tomorrow morning.” He stood up and opened the door, and Ava's mother was there almost immediately.
The two conferred in low voices while Ava carefully put away the dolls. She kept one, the one that belonged to her because her mother had bought it for her. She would have to say goodbye to the others, because they belonged to all the children. And she would have to say goodbye to Tarika before she left. And the teachers who had been kind to her. And the cooks who always let her sneak off with sweets before dinner. And the head priestess, because Ava knew it was polite to thank the one who had let you live under their roof.
So many goodbyes. But she couldn't feel too sad. She couldn't wait to find out what happened next.
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I liked seeing Merrus through Ava's eyes.
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I'm also wondering what, exactly, Jay and the temple's original plans were, since it doesn't seem like they intended for Merrus to even find out Ava existed during his visit.
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I had an idea that the rest of the temple would try to keep Merrus out entirely, and there was a lot of Discussion and Arguing with Jay trying her best to be mediator (not a natural position for her) and it was just something she didn't want her daughter to walk into the middle of.
Thank you!
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And man, that's a good POV of a six-year-old. You really captured that frustration well.
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