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rainbowfic2025-01-05 09:06 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2025-01-05 09:06 pm
Entry tags:
Beet Red #27; Light Black #29 [Starfall]
Name: Sea Changes
Story: Starfall
Colors: Beet Red #27 (No stone unturned); Light Black #29 (succeed)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 3017
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: Portcallan, 1313; Leion Valerno, Eollan Barra.
Summary: This isn't a good idea, but Leion tries it anyway.
This was a bad idea. It was, after all, one of Viyony's, and Leion was fast coming to the conclusion that she didn't have good ideas.
Leion turned off Haven Road, and headed down a narrow, steep lane towards Portcallan's Old Quay area. He had been to Eollan's office once before, when he had questioned him about the attack on Soldier Delver, but the labyrinthine courts and alleys in the quarter of the city between Watersgate and the wall baffled his efforts to retrace his steps. He thought he had taken the right turning this time, but he was relieved to see the small island of high, narrow buildings that he recalled as he rounded the corner. Eollan's office was in the middle, on the first floor, over a small general supplier's on the ground floor.
Leion entered through the shop, and then climbed to the tiny first floor landing where the door was hanging ajar. He knocked on it anyway. He and Eollan were not on the sort of terms that allowed for Leion striding in unannounced.
"Hello?" he added after the knock failed to elicit a response. He peered round the side of the door.
Eollan looked up. He put down the papers he had been sorting through and crossed over, barring Leion's way in. "Oh, you. What do you want?"
"Truce," said Leion. "I'm here entirely unofficially, for advice."
"Advice?" Eollan's eyebrows lifted. "About what, exactly?"
"I heard tell you were an expert on the Powers and spirituality these days."
"Maybe, but you're not looking for spiritual aid, are you?" Eollan kept his hand on the side of the door.
"Viyony suggested I come," Leion said. "I told her it was a ridiculous idea."
Eollan looked at Leion for a long moment. Then he released his grip on the door and stood back. "All right. Come in. Explain yourself, and we'll see."
The shelves were crowded with Eollan's stock—a row of books, then boxes of starstone pieces of every possible sort, followed by jars of powders and vials of liquid. Leion, unable to help himself, sniffed and pulled out one of the little bottles at the end, turning it over. "Is this legal?"
Eollan snatched it away from him. "Well, that took you all of five minutes. Yes, all of this is legal and harmless."
"Oh, so it's coloured water?" Leion countered, drawing himself up. "Maybe a few minute flakes of starstone mixed in for verisimilitude at best?"
"I can personally vouch for the quality of every item," said Eollan. "You wanted my advice. I'm not a scholar, but I am keen on people accessing the Powers, for want of a better word, and I think the absence of proper training outside the temples and shrines for those with affinity is a disgrace."
Leion shifted his stance. "For want of a better word? What would you call the Powers, then?"
"Badly phrased, but—no, I do mean that." Eollan crossed to the shelves, replacing the bottle in the empty space next to its fellows. "Look, what we know about the Powers is: they existed, they dispersed—that set off the next wave of weaker semi-Powers, who did the same, giving rise to lesser Powers, then to lesser still, and finally people who merely have what we call affinity with the Powers. Yes?"
Leion nodded.
"So, what sense does it make to keep making people listen to Powers whose only real remaining presence lies in people with affinity?"
Leion was casual about his observances, but even so he was startled. He turned his head sharply. "You had better not let some people hear you say that!"
"Oh, maybe some latent aspect of the Powers—whatever they are or were—does exist around us, too, but only actively through affinity. I'm not the only one who thinks so."
"No, I never imagined you were unique," Leion agreed.
Eollan ignored the slight, if he picked up on it. He moved past Leion and pulled down a small box. It contained large lumps of lightstone, each emitting a pale glow. "Right. Let's start with the basics. You do at least use lightstone regularly, I assume?"
"Not regularly," said Leion. "If you have nothing more unusual to offer me than that, we can stop being polite to each other and I'll get out of your way."
Eollan pulled out the largest piece of lightstone in the box, and held it up between them. It was rose-tinted and had visible flaws within. "Oh, I have plenty to say, but you can't start anywhere else. It's absolutely useless to try anything else until you've got the hang of it, not if you're serious about this."
"I'd rather not." Leion spoke too sharply, and lifted his head to find Eollan eyeing him quizzically. "Last time a Barra made me look into any type of starstone, it didn't end well."
"I'm not Atino."
Leion acknowledged that with a small twist of his mouth. "No. Well. I wouldn't be here if you were."
"Wouldn't you?"
Leion drew himself up. "I do learn from my mistakes."
"And yet here you are, consulting me." Eollan caught the look on Leion's face and grinned. "All right. Let's put the past aside. If you look into lightstone, what do you tend to see?"
Leion picked up the lightstone, and hefted its weight in his hand. He quashed an instinctive reaction to tell Eollan where to get off. He'd come this far, and he had better see it through. "The sea," he told him. "Only ever, the sea. Not very illuminating. Can't imagine today will be any different."
"It might, if you go in with your mind open instead of closed."
Leion perched himself on the edge of the desk. "No. I was enthusiastic and open-minded enough for anyone, once. But every time I've done this, for Midwinter observances, at school, whatever—it's always the sea."
"Are you serious?" Eollan burst out laughing. He choked it back with an effort. "Valerno! Didn't you pay any attention to your teachers?"
"Not much. I didn't see what the others were seeing, so why bother?" Leion straightened up and shook himself. "If that's all you have to say, this is a rotted waste of time."
Eollan blocked Leion's passage as he took a step towards the door. "Idiot. Don't you understand? What you're describing is pretty common. It's how it works for quite a few people—you're missing the point."
Leion stiffened, but then stepped back. "Go on."
"Some people see the same thing each time. It might be the sea, or the sky, or something like a house. What exactly doesn't really matter. The key is what changes between your sessions. Is the sea calm or stormy? What colour is the sky? What state is the house in? This is pure textbook! Didn't you say you'd been reading up on these things?"
"Yes, but about esoteric Powers that you'd apparently call dead," said Leion. "Not a basic guide to general observances. Thought I knew those from school."
Eollan rolled his eyes. "Are you ready to try again?"
Leion looked back at the lightstone he'd dropped onto the desk in his annoyance. He shrugged. He couldn't say he had much more enthusiasm for going to all the effort of sitting still and focusing on lightstone until he finally saw opaque waves for the sixty-second time.
"Of course," Eollan continued, "it can mean that there's a major event in your life that's all it'll ever show you. If the images don't change, then, well, you have to look at what the sea might symbolise."
"You think maybe I'm going to drown?"
"We can only hope," said Eollan. "Look, try with that one, and—Wait. No. I've had a better idea. Come with me!"
"Where, exactly?" Leion demanded.
Eollan grinned. "Somewhere you might find more conducive!"
This, Leion decided, as he marched after the other with a bad grace, was definitely a bad idea, and he was never going to pay any attention to anything Viyony Eseray said to him again.
Leion realised some ten minutes before they got there that Eollan must be leading him to the ruins of an old Laonnic shrine up on the clifftop outside the city. Some sections of wall were still standing, and there were large stones tumbled down around the area, although most of the rest had been taken over the years by the irreligious in search of free stone. One of the remaining walls held two large segments of lightstone. They had been put there a few decades ago to replace the long-lost originals, in a belated gesture of respect to set against Portcallan's previous century or so of neglect.
"You think this will be better?" asked Leion, once they stopped beside the shrine. "Or are you just hoping to push me off the edge while I'm distracted?"
"I've just spent seven years in the army, partly thanks to you. I'm not getting locked up on top of that for murdering you in front of at least twenty witnesses."
Leion quietened. The sea breeze was cool against his skin even as the day approached its midway point. He put a hand to the worn stones, which were, in contrast, faintly heated by the sun. "All right. Why here?"
"More atmosphere. I might not believe Laon himself is hanging around here, but what's left behind the Powers is often stronger in these sorts of places. Maybe it's all in the mind, of course—but you never know. So, sit down—look into the lightstone. Forget about me."
Leion settled himself on the large horizontal stone opposite one of the pieces of lightstone, but muttered, "Easier said than done."
"Try."
Leion raised his head and focused on the lightstone. Its glow was too faint to be visible in the sunshine until he stared closely and long enough for the soft white light to register. He knew how to do this. He had been taught how, a long time ago, by his mother, and he'd had to try enough times over the years since, to avoid getting into trouble with teachers, priests, people like Viyony who insisted on keeping observances. But it did seem even more of a waste than usual, here, where he could glance to the side and look at the real sea. Even without turning, he heard the call of it in his ears, and tasted the salt on his tongue.
He frowned. Try, he advised himself. Eollan's presence made him uncomfortable, but he didn't want him rolling his eyes at Leion's inability to do this. Even for somebody like him with only the smallest amount of affinity, it was the simplest way to consult the Powers. Concentrating didn't come easy, though. The wind rose, slapping the edges of his thin jacket against him. Someone was yelling somewhere behind them. The memory of Atino Barra, years ago, lecturing him about Powers and affinity, telling him to look into starstone—the start of a nightmare—came between him and the steady focus he needed. Buried feelings rose up, tightening his chest, making it hard to draw breath.
But this was different—completely different They were out in the open. He could hear the murmur of the waves, people's voices merging indistinctly from a distance, and the creak of wheels as a cart went by on the road. Besides, maybe he would see something else this time. So many things seemed to have changed since Viyony had arrived. Why not this too?
He breathed more slowly and allowed himself to focus on the lightstone. He saw the glow first, then, indistinctly, his own reflection, and finally softly shifting shapes within, like the shadow of birds' wings until they settled into the indistinct form and motion of waves under a pale sky.
What else? he asked, pushing forward. Never mind Eollan; Leion wanted illumination. Who didn't?
The sea and sky darkened within the lightstone. The same sense of oppression that preceded a storm crept over Leion until he pulled away, unable to stop himself. The image faded to white and vanished. Leion raised his head. The wind had grown stronger and the real sky had clouded over—impossibly fast, he might have said, if he hadn't known the speed at which storms could arise in the Calla Strait. Isolated fat wet drops of water fell, heralding more to follow, and soon.
"Finished?" said Eollan. He was leaning against the end of the upright section of wall, seemingly untroubled by the first spots of rain. "Any use?"
Leion blinked and put up a hand, running it through his fringe. The sky was clear from this angle. He turned back curiously. The sky above the sea was also blue, scudded with light clouds. "Did you see that?"
"I can't see what you're seeing," said Eollan. "That's why you have to look for yourself."
Leion shook himself. "Yes. Sorry. And, guess what?"
"Was it the sea?"
Leion nodded. "But," he added, "if I concentrated, it turned stormy. What do you reckon? An ominous sign or today's weather forecast?"
"That's the tricky part."
Leion stared out at the real sea, rolling steadily in, unmoved by signs and visions on the cliff top. "Isn't it just," he said under his breath. He strode across to join Eollan, who was already moving back towards the path. "When I've talked to anyone about this before, they always had plenty of ideas about what it could mean—going on a journey, time, death by drowning, persistence and patience, and more that I can't remember."
"So, try it regularly. If the sea is the same, then you look for what changes, and if it doesn't change, then you can go talk to someone about what it might symbolise."
"It's all so vague," Leion grumbled. "We might as well toss a coin instead."
Eollan shrugged. "I think some of the Imoran priests do that sometimes. You never know. But this is why we should take note of those with affinity—they are the Powers among us. You and I see cloudy shapes that could mean anything. Imai Eseray dreams the future, clear as day. Don't you understand how remarkable that makes her?"
"Ye-es," said Leion.
"She and people like her are the Powers among us. The government shouldn't only be ready to acknowledge them and train them properly, they should consult them – use that to make wiser decisions for us all. But there's no feeling for spirituality left any more, not in Emoyra."
Leion turned his head aside to hide a wry smile. "You really think so?"
"Anything else is an appalling waste!"
"Yes, but think of all those cautionary tales about signs and visions. Either you ignore one and come to a bad end, or you take it too seriously and come to a bad end. Or cause the bad end trying to escape it. You can't win. I don't think the government should base their policy on anyone's dreams, not even Viyony's. I suppose that's put things in perspective for next time I'm grumbling about the High Governor's policies."
Eollan face closed in. "I knew you'd be one of those."
"Obviously," Leion agreed. He hesitated, not wanting to be ungrateful. "Look, I appreciate your advice. I'll admit it, however much it galls me, you did help. But the rest of it—that's far too extreme for me, and, well -" He bit his words off, but couldn't stifle laughter.
"What?" Eollan said, his gaze narrowing while Leion struggled to compose himself.
"Have you told Viyony you want to worship her? You should. She'll never speak to you again. My work here will be done."
"You needn't mock. She's understandably wary of her affinity. Nobody's ever been very supportive, by the sounds of it. I doubt you help."
"No, you would think not, wouldn't you?"
"She has affinity with the Powers, that's what the word means. You're like all the rest—you say it, but you don't take in how vital, how awe-inspiring that is."
Leion held up a hand. "Yes, I see that. And I'm not mocking—I honestly think the idea is that terrible. Ask Viyony. She'd agree with me."
"You don't understand." Eollan frowned, but then gave a stiff shrug. "All right. You listened to me so far, that's something. But now I'm going back—and I'd appreciate it if you didn't tag along with me."
Leion stopped walking. "Only too happy to oblige."
He watched as Eollan made his way along the short stretch of road, before he passed the Watergate into the city, and out of sight. Leion turned around and headed back to the ruined shrine. He circled it, waiting for a group of other sightseers to leave and then walked past the fallen fragments of wall to touch the lightstone piece in the still-standing remnant of the building.
"What was that, eh?" Leion asked it, under his breath. He hadn't done anything to make that happen—it wasn't in him. He still had the same low-level of affinity he had always had. He saw the sea; he vaguely sensed more sometimes in other observances, and that was it. But that storm! He shivered, remembering the book of impossible history that had rewritten itself between readings, and the way Viyony had seen someone who wasn't there up at Chamber Hall. Portcallan was disturbed, too. Chiulder was lurking in dockland alley ways, people were attacking North Easterners, and someone had tried to assassinate the High Governor during the opening of High Chambers.
The lightstone offered him no reply, not even the smallest glimpse of the sea. Leion straightened.
"You see," he said to the shrine at large before he walked away, "this is the problem with these things. Oh, it's a clear enough warning. Even a fool like me can tell a storm is on its way, and that's probably a metaphor. But when, where? What am I supposed to do about it?"
There was no answer but the cry of gulls overhead.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Beet Red #27 (No stone unturned); Light Black #29 (succeed)
Supplies and Styles:
Word Count: 3017
Rating: G
Warnings: None.
Notes: Portcallan, 1313; Leion Valerno, Eollan Barra.
Summary: This isn't a good idea, but Leion tries it anyway.
This was a bad idea. It was, after all, one of Viyony's, and Leion was fast coming to the conclusion that she didn't have good ideas.
Leion turned off Haven Road, and headed down a narrow, steep lane towards Portcallan's Old Quay area. He had been to Eollan's office once before, when he had questioned him about the attack on Soldier Delver, but the labyrinthine courts and alleys in the quarter of the city between Watersgate and the wall baffled his efforts to retrace his steps. He thought he had taken the right turning this time, but he was relieved to see the small island of high, narrow buildings that he recalled as he rounded the corner. Eollan's office was in the middle, on the first floor, over a small general supplier's on the ground floor.
Leion entered through the shop, and then climbed to the tiny first floor landing where the door was hanging ajar. He knocked on it anyway. He and Eollan were not on the sort of terms that allowed for Leion striding in unannounced.
"Hello?" he added after the knock failed to elicit a response. He peered round the side of the door.
Eollan looked up. He put down the papers he had been sorting through and crossed over, barring Leion's way in. "Oh, you. What do you want?"
"Truce," said Leion. "I'm here entirely unofficially, for advice."
"Advice?" Eollan's eyebrows lifted. "About what, exactly?"
"I heard tell you were an expert on the Powers and spirituality these days."
"Maybe, but you're not looking for spiritual aid, are you?" Eollan kept his hand on the side of the door.
"Viyony suggested I come," Leion said. "I told her it was a ridiculous idea."
Eollan looked at Leion for a long moment. Then he released his grip on the door and stood back. "All right. Come in. Explain yourself, and we'll see."
The shelves were crowded with Eollan's stock—a row of books, then boxes of starstone pieces of every possible sort, followed by jars of powders and vials of liquid. Leion, unable to help himself, sniffed and pulled out one of the little bottles at the end, turning it over. "Is this legal?"
Eollan snatched it away from him. "Well, that took you all of five minutes. Yes, all of this is legal and harmless."
"Oh, so it's coloured water?" Leion countered, drawing himself up. "Maybe a few minute flakes of starstone mixed in for verisimilitude at best?"
"I can personally vouch for the quality of every item," said Eollan. "You wanted my advice. I'm not a scholar, but I am keen on people accessing the Powers, for want of a better word, and I think the absence of proper training outside the temples and shrines for those with affinity is a disgrace."
Leion shifted his stance. "For want of a better word? What would you call the Powers, then?"
"Badly phrased, but—no, I do mean that." Eollan crossed to the shelves, replacing the bottle in the empty space next to its fellows. "Look, what we know about the Powers is: they existed, they dispersed—that set off the next wave of weaker semi-Powers, who did the same, giving rise to lesser Powers, then to lesser still, and finally people who merely have what we call affinity with the Powers. Yes?"
Leion nodded.
"So, what sense does it make to keep making people listen to Powers whose only real remaining presence lies in people with affinity?"
Leion was casual about his observances, but even so he was startled. He turned his head sharply. "You had better not let some people hear you say that!"
"Oh, maybe some latent aspect of the Powers—whatever they are or were—does exist around us, too, but only actively through affinity. I'm not the only one who thinks so."
"No, I never imagined you were unique," Leion agreed.
Eollan ignored the slight, if he picked up on it. He moved past Leion and pulled down a small box. It contained large lumps of lightstone, each emitting a pale glow. "Right. Let's start with the basics. You do at least use lightstone regularly, I assume?"
"Not regularly," said Leion. "If you have nothing more unusual to offer me than that, we can stop being polite to each other and I'll get out of your way."
Eollan pulled out the largest piece of lightstone in the box, and held it up between them. It was rose-tinted and had visible flaws within. "Oh, I have plenty to say, but you can't start anywhere else. It's absolutely useless to try anything else until you've got the hang of it, not if you're serious about this."
"I'd rather not." Leion spoke too sharply, and lifted his head to find Eollan eyeing him quizzically. "Last time a Barra made me look into any type of starstone, it didn't end well."
"I'm not Atino."
Leion acknowledged that with a small twist of his mouth. "No. Well. I wouldn't be here if you were."
"Wouldn't you?"
Leion drew himself up. "I do learn from my mistakes."
"And yet here you are, consulting me." Eollan caught the look on Leion's face and grinned. "All right. Let's put the past aside. If you look into lightstone, what do you tend to see?"
Leion picked up the lightstone, and hefted its weight in his hand. He quashed an instinctive reaction to tell Eollan where to get off. He'd come this far, and he had better see it through. "The sea," he told him. "Only ever, the sea. Not very illuminating. Can't imagine today will be any different."
"It might, if you go in with your mind open instead of closed."
Leion perched himself on the edge of the desk. "No. I was enthusiastic and open-minded enough for anyone, once. But every time I've done this, for Midwinter observances, at school, whatever—it's always the sea."
"Are you serious?" Eollan burst out laughing. He choked it back with an effort. "Valerno! Didn't you pay any attention to your teachers?"
"Not much. I didn't see what the others were seeing, so why bother?" Leion straightened up and shook himself. "If that's all you have to say, this is a rotted waste of time."
Eollan blocked Leion's passage as he took a step towards the door. "Idiot. Don't you understand? What you're describing is pretty common. It's how it works for quite a few people—you're missing the point."
Leion stiffened, but then stepped back. "Go on."
"Some people see the same thing each time. It might be the sea, or the sky, or something like a house. What exactly doesn't really matter. The key is what changes between your sessions. Is the sea calm or stormy? What colour is the sky? What state is the house in? This is pure textbook! Didn't you say you'd been reading up on these things?"
"Yes, but about esoteric Powers that you'd apparently call dead," said Leion. "Not a basic guide to general observances. Thought I knew those from school."
Eollan rolled his eyes. "Are you ready to try again?"
Leion looked back at the lightstone he'd dropped onto the desk in his annoyance. He shrugged. He couldn't say he had much more enthusiasm for going to all the effort of sitting still and focusing on lightstone until he finally saw opaque waves for the sixty-second time.
"Of course," Eollan continued, "it can mean that there's a major event in your life that's all it'll ever show you. If the images don't change, then, well, you have to look at what the sea might symbolise."
"You think maybe I'm going to drown?"
"We can only hope," said Eollan. "Look, try with that one, and—Wait. No. I've had a better idea. Come with me!"
"Where, exactly?" Leion demanded.
Eollan grinned. "Somewhere you might find more conducive!"
This, Leion decided, as he marched after the other with a bad grace, was definitely a bad idea, and he was never going to pay any attention to anything Viyony Eseray said to him again.
Leion realised some ten minutes before they got there that Eollan must be leading him to the ruins of an old Laonnic shrine up on the clifftop outside the city. Some sections of wall were still standing, and there were large stones tumbled down around the area, although most of the rest had been taken over the years by the irreligious in search of free stone. One of the remaining walls held two large segments of lightstone. They had been put there a few decades ago to replace the long-lost originals, in a belated gesture of respect to set against Portcallan's previous century or so of neglect.
"You think this will be better?" asked Leion, once they stopped beside the shrine. "Or are you just hoping to push me off the edge while I'm distracted?"
"I've just spent seven years in the army, partly thanks to you. I'm not getting locked up on top of that for murdering you in front of at least twenty witnesses."
Leion quietened. The sea breeze was cool against his skin even as the day approached its midway point. He put a hand to the worn stones, which were, in contrast, faintly heated by the sun. "All right. Why here?"
"More atmosphere. I might not believe Laon himself is hanging around here, but what's left behind the Powers is often stronger in these sorts of places. Maybe it's all in the mind, of course—but you never know. So, sit down—look into the lightstone. Forget about me."
Leion settled himself on the large horizontal stone opposite one of the pieces of lightstone, but muttered, "Easier said than done."
"Try."
Leion raised his head and focused on the lightstone. Its glow was too faint to be visible in the sunshine until he stared closely and long enough for the soft white light to register. He knew how to do this. He had been taught how, a long time ago, by his mother, and he'd had to try enough times over the years since, to avoid getting into trouble with teachers, priests, people like Viyony who insisted on keeping observances. But it did seem even more of a waste than usual, here, where he could glance to the side and look at the real sea. Even without turning, he heard the call of it in his ears, and tasted the salt on his tongue.
He frowned. Try, he advised himself. Eollan's presence made him uncomfortable, but he didn't want him rolling his eyes at Leion's inability to do this. Even for somebody like him with only the smallest amount of affinity, it was the simplest way to consult the Powers. Concentrating didn't come easy, though. The wind rose, slapping the edges of his thin jacket against him. Someone was yelling somewhere behind them. The memory of Atino Barra, years ago, lecturing him about Powers and affinity, telling him to look into starstone—the start of a nightmare—came between him and the steady focus he needed. Buried feelings rose up, tightening his chest, making it hard to draw breath.
But this was different—completely different They were out in the open. He could hear the murmur of the waves, people's voices merging indistinctly from a distance, and the creak of wheels as a cart went by on the road. Besides, maybe he would see something else this time. So many things seemed to have changed since Viyony had arrived. Why not this too?
He breathed more slowly and allowed himself to focus on the lightstone. He saw the glow first, then, indistinctly, his own reflection, and finally softly shifting shapes within, like the shadow of birds' wings until they settled into the indistinct form and motion of waves under a pale sky.
What else? he asked, pushing forward. Never mind Eollan; Leion wanted illumination. Who didn't?
The sea and sky darkened within the lightstone. The same sense of oppression that preceded a storm crept over Leion until he pulled away, unable to stop himself. The image faded to white and vanished. Leion raised his head. The wind had grown stronger and the real sky had clouded over—impossibly fast, he might have said, if he hadn't known the speed at which storms could arise in the Calla Strait. Isolated fat wet drops of water fell, heralding more to follow, and soon.
"Finished?" said Eollan. He was leaning against the end of the upright section of wall, seemingly untroubled by the first spots of rain. "Any use?"
Leion blinked and put up a hand, running it through his fringe. The sky was clear from this angle. He turned back curiously. The sky above the sea was also blue, scudded with light clouds. "Did you see that?"
"I can't see what you're seeing," said Eollan. "That's why you have to look for yourself."
Leion shook himself. "Yes. Sorry. And, guess what?"
"Was it the sea?"
Leion nodded. "But," he added, "if I concentrated, it turned stormy. What do you reckon? An ominous sign or today's weather forecast?"
"That's the tricky part."
Leion stared out at the real sea, rolling steadily in, unmoved by signs and visions on the cliff top. "Isn't it just," he said under his breath. He strode across to join Eollan, who was already moving back towards the path. "When I've talked to anyone about this before, they always had plenty of ideas about what it could mean—going on a journey, time, death by drowning, persistence and patience, and more that I can't remember."
"So, try it regularly. If the sea is the same, then you look for what changes, and if it doesn't change, then you can go talk to someone about what it might symbolise."
"It's all so vague," Leion grumbled. "We might as well toss a coin instead."
Eollan shrugged. "I think some of the Imoran priests do that sometimes. You never know. But this is why we should take note of those with affinity—they are the Powers among us. You and I see cloudy shapes that could mean anything. Imai Eseray dreams the future, clear as day. Don't you understand how remarkable that makes her?"
"Ye-es," said Leion.
"She and people like her are the Powers among us. The government shouldn't only be ready to acknowledge them and train them properly, they should consult them – use that to make wiser decisions for us all. But there's no feeling for spirituality left any more, not in Emoyra."
Leion turned his head aside to hide a wry smile. "You really think so?"
"Anything else is an appalling waste!"
"Yes, but think of all those cautionary tales about signs and visions. Either you ignore one and come to a bad end, or you take it too seriously and come to a bad end. Or cause the bad end trying to escape it. You can't win. I don't think the government should base their policy on anyone's dreams, not even Viyony's. I suppose that's put things in perspective for next time I'm grumbling about the High Governor's policies."
Eollan face closed in. "I knew you'd be one of those."
"Obviously," Leion agreed. He hesitated, not wanting to be ungrateful. "Look, I appreciate your advice. I'll admit it, however much it galls me, you did help. But the rest of it—that's far too extreme for me, and, well -" He bit his words off, but couldn't stifle laughter.
"What?" Eollan said, his gaze narrowing while Leion struggled to compose himself.
"Have you told Viyony you want to worship her? You should. She'll never speak to you again. My work here will be done."
"You needn't mock. She's understandably wary of her affinity. Nobody's ever been very supportive, by the sounds of it. I doubt you help."
"No, you would think not, wouldn't you?"
"She has affinity with the Powers, that's what the word means. You're like all the rest—you say it, but you don't take in how vital, how awe-inspiring that is."
Leion held up a hand. "Yes, I see that. And I'm not mocking—I honestly think the idea is that terrible. Ask Viyony. She'd agree with me."
"You don't understand." Eollan frowned, but then gave a stiff shrug. "All right. You listened to me so far, that's something. But now I'm going back—and I'd appreciate it if you didn't tag along with me."
Leion stopped walking. "Only too happy to oblige."
He watched as Eollan made his way along the short stretch of road, before he passed the Watergate into the city, and out of sight. Leion turned around and headed back to the ruined shrine. He circled it, waiting for a group of other sightseers to leave and then walked past the fallen fragments of wall to touch the lightstone piece in the still-standing remnant of the building.
"What was that, eh?" Leion asked it, under his breath. He hadn't done anything to make that happen—it wasn't in him. He still had the same low-level of affinity he had always had. He saw the sea; he vaguely sensed more sometimes in other observances, and that was it. But that storm! He shivered, remembering the book of impossible history that had rewritten itself between readings, and the way Viyony had seen someone who wasn't there up at Chamber Hall. Portcallan was disturbed, too. Chiulder was lurking in dockland alley ways, people were attacking North Easterners, and someone had tried to assassinate the High Governor during the opening of High Chambers.
The lightstone offered him no reply, not even the smallest glimpse of the sea. Leion straightened.
"You see," he said to the shrine at large before he walked away, "this is the problem with these things. Oh, it's a clear enough warning. Even a fool like me can tell a storm is on its way, and that's probably a metaphor. But when, where? What am I supposed to do about it?"
There was no answer but the cry of gulls overhead.
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Psst! Beta notes.
1 - you spelled creak as creek!
b - You're like all the rest - you say it, but you don't take in vital, how awe-inspiring that is. I cannot quite parse this: that vital seems misplaced or your sentence isn't quite complete.
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Leion is right, worshiping people as gods is weird and offputting, even if they have magical powers. I do like this explanation of how the powers are linked to the, uh, Powers, though.
I guess the stuff about Atino Barra was in an earlier part that I didn't read?
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I guess the stuff about Atino Barra was in an earlier part that I didn't read?
Heh, sorry. It's sort of yes, and no - I did establish already that Eollan is Atino's cousin, and joined the army to escape from the Atino-related family scandal, but this is just more Leion's backstory that he isn't talking about. One day either I will type it up as a piece or maybe Viyony will finally get Leion or someone to tell her about it. At the moment it's just something that the Barras are angry about, Leion won't talk about, and Atino and Chiulder (the person who turned up in the previous pieces) were to blame.
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Ahh, ok, cool, then I don't feel like I'm missing anything. :)
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"We can only hope," said Eollan.
Of course I am enjoying the numinous worldbuilding, and the metaphors, and the continued hints of the dramatic backstory that will someday come off the wall between Leion and the Barras, but I also enjoy just hearing these two talk at one another.
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I love this and the atmosphere of the shrine and the ending!
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