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rainbowfic2025-12-07 08:42 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2025-12-07 08:42 pm
Azul #5; Warm Heart #4 [Starfall]
Name: and your light can't guide me
Story: Starfall
Colors: Azul #5 (Champion); Warm Heart #4 (Pain)
Supplies and Styles: Chiaroscuro + Portrait + Pastels (allbingo Colour Fest square "Red Cross")
Word Count: 6895
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Mild drug use, threat of death/injury, needles.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan. Leion Valerno, Viyony Eseray, Eollan Barra, Tana Veldiner. Carries on from Missteps.
Summary: Leion investigates a mysterious message in the middle of the night and Viyony dreams.
Gathering 14/15, Poll 5
"Imai Valerno!"
Leion raised his head off the desk, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He pulled it away to find someone standing there, inside his office. "What in the—who are you?"
"Messenger," the young man said, and gestured at his distinctive uniform—grey shirt and trousers edged with starflower blue and a dark red sash. "Your door was open."
Leion ran a hand through his hair and screwed up his face. "Shit. Sorry. I was—expecting someone. I fell asleep. Well? What is it?"
He held out the note in his hand. "Sender is Imai Ossilian Fennit. She says the night is young."
"Rubbish," said Leion, reaching out for the message. "It's positively ancient by this point."
The messenger drew back, and said again, barely refraining from an eye roll, "She says, Imai Valerno: the night is young."
"Oh," said Leion. "Of course she does. And, ah, we shall sail halfway to Tamah in the morning and what a catch we will have. Give that here, since I imagine it's urgent."
The messenger held it out. "Any reply?" he asked, while Leion scanned it.
"No, no. Off you go," said Leion. "I need to leave!"
The messenger gave a sharp nod and removed himself.
Leion re-read the note, just to check the address—South Riverside, or just below it, rather. A decent area, residential mostly, but leaning a little towards the direction of the docklands. He held the paper with his mouth while he shrugged on a light jacket, and then removed it again before he left the office. He locked the door behind him, and set off at a run.
Leion slowed as he reached Shara's Way, keeping to the side, close against the buildings, out of sight of the hawker still plying his wares back at the corner by the main street. He wasn't sure what the time was. He had stayed up, hoping for Viyony to come back from the festival—restlessly moving from one room to the other until he'd settled at the desk, where he could watch the door, and had accidentally dropped off. He rubbed his neck, aching in consequence, and continued along the road. The note had summoned him to the end house, and he was looking for Imai Fennet, one of Tana's people. He'd worked with her a few times so he ought to be able spot her easily enough.
He tried not to think about the implications of the note. It gave little away, but there was Viyony, whom he'd left unaccounted for at the Sea Festival. It couldn't be that, he told himself. She must have gone off with Laida or Mierly Modelen and their set. He wished he was sure, though. There was also the other possibility, which Viyony would have pointed out to him—that it wouldn't be the first time he had been lured into a trap by a note. Ossilian was real, though, and the messenger knew the right code. Still, Leion eyed the deeper wells of shadows in the gaps between the buildings warily as he walked on.
"Imai Valerno."
He started and then stepped aside from the street to join Ossilian Fennit where she was waiting at the entrance to a narrow passageway between two houses. "What is all this?"
"A dilemma," she said in a low tone. She was a sturdy woman some years older than him, who barely came up to his shoulder. "I've sent word to the High Chamber office, but even if someone comes, I can't act without confirmation of my suspicions. That's why I thought of you."
Leion raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I've been keeping an eye on Eollan Barra—he and a group of his associates are holed up in that house." She nodded to the end house of on the opposite side of the street.
Leion squinted over in the direction she indicated. "Oh, yes. Sharal Zillence's place. They're away at the moment—a good spot for a party, then."
"Yes, that's what it looked like, to begin with, but it's been hours since anyone came in or out. By my reckoning, there are at about twelve or thirteen people still in there—but there's only one light that I can see and I've not heard a sound in all that time. Strange sort of party."
"Well, Eollan is getting on these days," said Leion. "Perhaps they packed it in and went to bed."
She looked at him. "The other worrying thing is that one of them was Imai Eseray. We were supposed to -"
"What?" said Leion.
"Imai Eseray—any contact between her and Colonel Barra was another thing Imai Veldiner wanted reporting should it occur."
"But she couldn't have done! She wouldn't go off with Eollan—she promised me!" A flurry of unappealing ideas raced through Leion's brain—Viyony in danger—Viyony dispersing like Chiulder—or having her affair with Eollan instead of him. (It wasn't as if it mattered; that was what she had said to him). He shook them all away. "Explain."
"She arrived with Tessine Hyan not long before things went quiet," said Ossilian. "She hasn't left, although Tessine did."
"Well, why didn't you send for Tana straight away?" said Leion. "You should have made sure Viyony was all right!"
"Keep your voice down," said Ossilian. "I sent word to Tana. I told you. The problem is, that's a house full of people who will cause a lot of trouble if we barge in on their private party without good reason. So—I sent for you."
Leion closed his eyes. "Ah."
"You merely happening to gatecrash -"
"Yes, yes, I'm ahead of you," he said. Nobody would make speeches in the High Council Chambers about infringements of people's liberties if he turned up uninvited. They would no doubt be annoyed and they might well throw him out, maybe literally, but everyone could live with that. "Wait one moment."
He darted back into the main road, heading back uphill to where he'd seen the street seller hanging around. Leion bought a small cup of sea spirit from his tray. He took a quick sip of blue, fiery liquid, and coughed, before spilling half of it down his front.
"Hey!" said the seller, waking up enough to protest. "That was quality stuff! What d'you do that for?"
Leion winked. "Matter of life or death."
He marched down to the door of the Zillence house. "Here we go," he muttered, bracing himself and then stepped up to hammer his fist on it, yelling all the while for someone to let him in.
After a couple of minutes a bleary-eyed youth pulled the door open. Leion wasn't sure if he knew him or not, but couldn't put a name to him either way. The unwilling doorman blinked, and said slowly, "Who're you?"
"Leion Valerno," he said, elbowing his way inside. He kicked the door closed behind him and slung his arm around the young man's shoulders. "Here for the party—hey, where is everyone?" He paused, and frowned at the other. He rather thought the seller had been right: his attempt to provide authenticity to his drunken cover had been a waste of alcohol.
"They're downstairs," the young man said, slowly. He put a hand up to his head, light brown fingers threaded through dark curls that had patches dyed or painted in festival shades of blue, green and white.
Leion surveyed him more closely, but the only light in the hallway came from one dim lamp hung up half a length away. He guided the young man nearer the light, and he didn't object, merely allowing himself to be manoeuvred. Leion tilted his head and his gaze narrowed.
"What have you been taking?" he asked.
The young man shrugged. He screwed up his face. "I do know you. Imai Valerno!"
"Thank you," said Leion. "Famous at last, I see." He stepped beyond the other, peering into the nearest room. There was nobody inside and there were dust covers over the furniture. "They're all downstairs? In the cellar?"
He nodded.
"Do you have a name?" Leion said more softly.
The young man frowned. "Evver. Evver Wylinse."
"Right," said Leion. "And what are they doing down there? Seeking guidance from the Powers, perhaps?"
Evver stared and then slowly gave another nod.
"Visions and so on?"
Evver shook himself. "Why do you want to know?"
"Eollan and the rest are down there with Viyony Eseray, getting her to prophesy, yes?" Leion couldn't keep the edge out of his voice. He grasped Evver's shirt. "Well?"
Evver bit his lip. "Um. Yes. What's that to you?"
"Hang on," said Leion. He shoved Evver against the wall, but with little force in it. "Stay there!"
Leion turned back to the door and whistled for Ossilian. As soon as she joined him, he said, "You're right. We have a situation. Send for help—now! I'm going to see what else I can get out of this young idiot." His palms itched as he thought of Viyony downstairs, maybe dosed up on the same substance Chiulder had taken, but he had to find out more first.
Ossilian raced off, leaving Leion alone with Evver. He patted the youth's arm. "Right," Leion said. "Come on. Let's sort you out." He tugged Evver after him. The house's layout was fairly typical and the long hallway led through to the kitchen. The other doors they passed were open or ajar, the rooms darkened and empty of anything other than more ghostly shapes of furniture under dust sheets. Leion pushed his way into the kitchen. It was more brightly lit than the hallway—there was a large lightstone lamp on the table as well as a smaller one hanging up in the workspace.
He let go of Evver and scanned the room. There were three doors—one in the corner so narrow it had to be a closet, and another had a screen set in it, which must be the way out into the courtyard. Leion's gaze returned to the door in the middle of the opposite wall. It was painted white and had a key in the lock in addition to a bolt on the top and bottom, both of which were slid back, open. Leion crossed to it and pressed his ear against the wood, but heard nothing.
"I don't think," said Evver with effort, "you should be here."
Leion tugged him onwards, over to the outer door. "Yes, I should," he said, as he opened it and led him out into the night. "You're going to be very glad I am, but first—I need some proper help from you, so bear with me -"
He dragged Evver across to the pump and held his head under the flow of water while Evver yelled and flailed feebly in protest. After a few moments, Leion released him and let go of the pump's handle.
"Now," he said. "We need to talk."
Evver coughed and spluttered while he pushed dampened hair back, the colours in it running in blue and green streaks down his face. "What did you do that for?"
"I need you sobered up," said Leion. "Right now, we're looking at a charge of kidnapping against Eollan and his crew downstairs, with you as an accessory. But if we don't so something fast, it'll be murder."
"Eollan wouldn't hurt her," protested Evver. "He said he wouldn't. It's—it's a good thing." He waved a hand. "She's special."
Leion stilled for a moment. "Maybe he doesn't intend to," he said eventually, and surprised himself at how calm he sounded. "But he doesn't have a clue what he's dealing with when it comes to Viyony. Now, would you like me to speak up for you when the Guardians get here—tell them how helpful you were—or not? I mean, if just saving Imai Eseray's life isn't reason enough—but maybe that's too much to hope for."
Evver hesitated, and then said, sulkily, "I'll help."
Leion looked at the door leading back into the house. He ought not to rush into a nest of Eollan's followers without Ossilian and preferably several Guardians or High Guards in addition, but Viyony's time must be running out. The only thing he could be reasonably certain of was that she could not have dispersed yet. Even if Eollan and the rest were as far out of it as Evver, Viyony exploding into a cloud of shining motes would have everyone piling out of that cellar regardless, yelling and screaming all the way.
Leion shook off an intrusive memory of Chiulder's death, and tasted bile. He set his shoulders and marched Evver back into the kitchen. "Get yourself some water," he ordered in a low tone.
He left Evver and moved across to the cellar door, pressing his ear against it for a second time. He still couldn't hear anything except for Evver rattling about on the other side of the room in his efforts to find an unused cup.
Ossilian should be back any minute with reinforcements, and nobody downstairs was showing any signs of life. Maybe they had passed out or fallen asleep? A look had to be worth the risk. Leion gripped the door handle and, gently, slowly, twisted it. It didn't offer much resistance, but the small noise it made sounded too loud in the quietness. He froze, waiting, but no response came from below. He straightened, then removed his jacket and threw it over the lamp on the table—he didn't want any sudden light from above alerting everyone when he opened the door.
"Hey," said Evver from the area by the workbench and wash basin, and then dropped something. It hit the floorboards like a rock and rolled onwards, Evver scrabbling after it just as noisily.
Leion cursed under his breath, but even that brought no reaction from the cellar. Either they really were out of it, or they had got used to Evver making a racket up here. Leion's shoulders lowered. He walked softly back to the cellar door and pushed it ajar, peering round it.
There were stone steps leading downwards; a pale glow emanating from the area below. Leion moved forward, leaning over the painted metal balustrade to get a proper look at what was going on. The basement had been adorned with eight or nine lightstone lamps of white, yellow, and rose, their dim glare multiplied by mirrors hung on all the walls. About a dozen people, obscured in the shadowed area in the centre, lounged about on cushions and thick rugs. Some of them were upright, their attention fixed on the figure at the front, but most were slumped over, maybe even asleep.
There was another presence in the room, though, and Leion felt its force before he saw her, a sort of humming in the air. Viyony. He took the first step downwards, queasiness stirring in his stomach. How far gone was she? He swallowed, but steeled himself to look directly at her.
Viyony was standing on a low dais at the front of the room. She was talking, but in too low a voice for him to hear. Her inaudibility didn't bother her audience, who seemed to be even less alert than Evver had been. She was glowing, Leion thought, but told himself that was only the effect of the lights and mirrors. He looked again, and his heart lurched in his chest.
The lamp nearest to Viyony gave out a dim yellow light, but the faint nimbus around her was silvery blue and lilac. Leion couldn't entirely blame Eollan and the rest for being transfixed—she might as well be a Power or goddess, standing there, shining as she muttered endless prophesies. How long had she been in this state? He couldn't take his eyes off her—and then she lifted her gaze upwards, a tremor crossing her face. She had seen him; she was to some degree lucid. Leion forgot everything else and tore down the steps, leaping over a recumbent body lying at the bottom to get to her.
The dais skidded under him—it had been hastily constructed for the occasion and was not fixed to the floor. He bit down on a yell and steadied himself against the wall. The watchers around him stirred in a soft rustle of clothes and murmurs from the darkened centre of the room. Leion ignored them, keeping his attention on the one thing that mattered.
"Viyony," he said, risking a tentative hand to her arm. She didn't cease muttering, staring past him at invisible people and places. Had he only imagined that moment of connection? Then she trembled wildly at his touch and fought to turn her head; she flexed her fingers to grasp hold of him, but had no strength to raise her hand.
"Valerno!" Eollan crossed over from where he'd been sitting close by, propped up against the wall. He moved slowly, barely even registering concern. He was certainly not Atino—his cousin had never drugged himself, only other people. "Now you see—now you see—how important it is -"
Leion put himself between Eollan and Viyony. "Stop this! You're killing her!"
"No, no, this is what she was meant to be -"
Leion swore at him, and then glanced around the room. Sweat trickled down his brow. If this lot roused, he could hardly fight his way out through all of them. He hesitated—what should he do? But only one man even tried to stand. The others merely slept on, or watched without reaction, as if his interruption was part of the ceremony.
Eollan lurched towards him. Leion stiffened, fingers clenching into a fist, but he put up the other hand, as if to bar Eollan's progress, and caught him with it, harder than either of them expected. Eollan, already unsteady and on the edge of the dais, fell backwards into a tangle of worshippers and cushions, loose sheets of paper flapping after him. He'd been taking notes of what his oracle said, apparently. Leion lowered his fist, more disappointed than relieved.
"This session is over," Leion yelled. "Enough is enough." He put his arm around Viyony, and said in her ear, "It's me, Leion. Can you hear me? We have to go!"
Eollan got to his feet, but his attention was fixed on Viyony, a frown growing on his face. "I wouldn't hurt her," he muttered, but he wouldn't meet Leion's eyes. "You just don't see anything."
"Really? Then let me get her out of here, before it's too late!"
Eollan didn't reply, but when a woman moved forward, he caught her arm, holding her back. There was a stormy look in his eyes as he watched Leion and Viyony on the dais.
Leion tightened his grip on Viyony and pulled her away, over to the stairs. A Hyan, a cousin of Tess's, lumbered to his feet and tried to stand in front of them, but Leion glared, ploughing on regardless, and the man stepped aside in one jerky movement, maybe at a nod from Eollan. Leion didn't look around to find out. His heart beat pounded in his ears. He wished one of them would try something, not quite rational with rage, but kept his head enough to push Viyony, unresisting, stumbling, up the stairs. Stars alone knew what Eollan was thinking, and if he changed his mind or sobered up, they'd be in trouble. They were outnumbered, and Eollan, unlike Leion, was a soldier, a trained fighter.
Leion shouldered the door at the top open and then backed through it, Viyony increasingly heavy against him. "Shut and bolt that door!" he ordered Evver as soon as they emerged into the kitchen. "Now!"
Evver jumped, but did as he was told. Behind him, Leion heard the door shut and the grinding sound of the bolt being pushed into place. He caught Viyony up in his arms, and carried her the few short steps over to the table, almost knocking the lamp over as he laid her down there. He steadied the lamp, saving it and his jacket from falling to the floor.
"Fetch water!" he snapped at Evver, and then bent over Viyony. He clasped her fingers and used his free hand to turn her head gently, unsure if she was conscious. She shifted weakly and looked up at him, before recognition faded and her gaze travelled on past, her lips moving in a continual, soundless whisper.
Leion looked around wildly for help, but the kitchen was empty of anything but festival junk, and Ossilian had not returned. Viyony was still glowing, a faint sheen of lilac and pale blue to her skin. Panic seized Leion, but he placed his palms on the wood of the table and breathed in and out. He was all Viyony had right now. He could not, must not, let her down twice in one night.
"Viyony," he said, his mouth dry. Her name cracked inside it. "It's me. Leion. Please, look at me—focus on me, the table—anything solid, here, now. Do you understand?"
She gave what he hoped was a faint nod.
"Good," he said. He retrieved his jacket and folded it up to place it under her head. It was a light, summer garment and not much of a pillow, but better than the hard surface. He brushed her hair back from her face as Evver trundled over with water.
Leion took the cup from him. "Right. Now, go—find a medic!"
"You can't order me about like this," grumbled Evver, but he cast a worried eye at Viyony.
Leion raised his eyebrows. "Funny, I thought you might want me to mention to the justice how you heroically went off for a medic without even being asked. Do you want her to die?"
"All right, but it's late—early -"
"Medics are used to that," said Leion. "Go! And if you pass any sellers with any sort of soup or sweet, milky drinks—anything like that—pick something up."
Evver ran.
"Let's hope he comes back," said Leion to Viyony. He pulled her up and put his free arm around her, positioning her so he could hold the cup to her mouth. "Gently does it." He waited while she sipped at it, and then said, "Whatever you're seeing—visions, dreams—stop, don't. Keep all your attention on right now. You've done enough—too much. Eollan wrote it down; it's all there. You can stop." Paper had scattered around Eollan, hadn't it, when he had fallen? But if it was a lie, Leion didn't really care.
Viyony didn't respond. Her body was heavy against his arm, her skin overheated. Yet all he could do alone was to hold her steady and let her drink. Somewhere behind him, he heard thuds and then thumping on the door. The cellar dwellers waking up, presumably. "Knock all you want," he said under his breath. "You can stay down there forever, as far as I'm concerned!"
"... tower..." mumbled Viyony. She trembled in his hold.
Leion put the cup down and pressed his hand to her burning forehead. "Viyony, stop! Please. Think of Eseray! Look at me—hold on. Help is on its way."
But the spell of lucidity seemed to have passed. She remained limp against his arm, muttering constantly, inaudibly, into his shirt sleeve.
"Don't—don't," he tried to say and failed. He leant in nearer, his head touching hers, before he pulled back. He could not let this be the end.
"Right—listen!" He raised his voice, making it an order. The pressure of her fingers on his increased and she shifted her head against him. "Good. I've read about this—well, half a book—but I'm the best you've got, so pay attention. I can be an idiot, I know—and sorry for before—but I really do -"
"Well, that's honest," said Ossilian from behind Leion. She walked over to stand beside the table. "How is she?"
Leion pulled a face in reply and shook his head. He turned back to Viyony. "There, see—help is here! Stay with me. Ossilian, can you see if there's anything around she could eat or drink? They've had her prophesying down there for hours on end -" He had to cut himself short; saying it lit a red hot taper within.
"Right." Ossilian moved away and Leion heard the occasional sound from the other end of the room, of items being lifted up, papers being moved, and the clatter of pots and crockery.
"Don't worry about the dreams. I'll follow up anything you want later. Promise." Leion held Viyony's gaze until he met a gleam of understanding in her eyes. "Now, let's find somewhere more comfortable for you."
"... s'too much," she murmured. "So much."
"Yes," he agreed. "Exactly. No more visions. See, this place? We're in the kitchen in Sharal Zillence's house. Full of festival rubbish—I can smell fried fish somewhere. Can't you?"
Viyony breathed out, motes of lilac, white and blue dancing in the lamp's rays; her spirit evaporating from within.
"No!" said Leion. "Viyony!"
She opened her eyes again with an effort. Fried fish? she mouthed.
"Yes," he said, and hoped he sounded steadier than he felt. "You must be able to smell it."
She frowned.
"And I never made you try sea spirit," said Leion. "It's blue. Vile stuff. We must do that someday."
Ossilian crossed over. "I warmed some milk and honey. I think the milk is all right."
Leion took the cup she held out to him. "Thanks. Come on, Viyony. You need something inside you."
She sipped at it intermittently, while Ossilian said in a lower tone, "Tana is on her way. It won't be long now. How did you get her out?"
"They're all half stupid on something," said Leion. "Several of them are asleep, and, well, I was too angry to think straight. They're all locked in now anyway." He indicated the cellar door with his head. "I sent Evver for a medic, by the way. I just hope he hasn't run off."
Ossilian swore. "You shouldn't have gone down there without me and you shouldn't have let anyone leave!"
Leion kept his attention on Viyony. "I was only trying to assess the situation—and then I saw -" He nodded to the faint glow emanating from Viyony.
Ossilian's eyes widened as she registered it for the first time. It wasn't anything like as obvious in the brighter light of the kitchen. "Stars," she said. "What do we do?"
"Get her somewhere more comfortable," said Leion. "Can you see if there's a couch in one of the other rooms? I can't leave her."
Ossilian nodded, and disappeared.
Viyony slumped against Leion, her eyes half closed, muttering unintelligibly.
"Excuse me," said Leion, poking her gently. "I was talking." He put down the milk and shifted his hold on her, his arm starting to grow numb. "We haven't finished yet."
She didn't respond, and when he leant his head in nearer to catch what she was saying, it was only more dreams and visions, "... blood on the grass... blue stone... so cold..." Leion fell silent. Was he watching her fade away to become a dream herself? The idea choked him. She shifted in his arms and more coloured dust motes rose into the air. Hot saltwater pricked his eyes and his throat constricted.
The front door opened, and people were suddenly thundering about in the hallway. Leion raised his head. "Evver! In here!"
"Leion."
It was Tana. She halted in the doorway before giving herself a shake and then hurrying over. Two High Guards followed her into the kitchen. "I came as quickly as I could." She eyed Viyony. "How is she?"
"We need a medic," said Leion. He scrubbed his free hand across his eyes. "Didn't you bring one?"
Tana stepped forward. "I sent word to the Vionnic Hospital, but I don't know how soon they can root out their expert on affiniate issues."
"Found a couch," Ossilian said, also returning. "Ah. Imai Veldiner. The culprits are all locked in the cellar, bar one. They seem to have neutralised themselves—we might need a medic for them, too."
"Bar one?"
As if it was a proper festival party and all of the guests had started arriving at once, Evver burst in on his cue, breathless and much more alert than he had been when he'd left. He stood back and gestured dramatically to the plump little man behind him. "I found one! A medic!"
"Thank the stars," breathed Leion. He straightened. "Over here, Imai -?"
The man edged his way through the crowd that was gathering in the kitchen until he reached the table. Behind him, the others milled around, some going out into the yard and others back into the hallway. At least one stamped up the stairs. The medic drew in his breath and ran a hand through silver-threaded black hair. "Silbrezhe. Whatever is going on here?"
"She's dispersing," said Leion. "Viyony. Help her!"
"But this—isn't possible!" He disappeared out of Leion's vision for a moment before returning with the lamp in his hand. He held it up, casting a pale glow over his face and distorted shadows against the wall. "What happened?"
"Someone was trying to amplify her affinity. She has true dreams. Now that's all she's seeing."
"Oh, dear," sighed the medic. "Oh, dear, oh dear." He cast an eye around the bustling kitchen and his face darkened. "Is there nowhere better for her than this?"
"Second room on the left," said Ossilian. "A couch." She signalled for the largest of the guards to help out.
Leion shook his head and picked Viyony up himself. "I don't trust anyone else," he whispered to her. She didn't respond, but she clutched at the fabric of his shirt. He hoped it meant something, but maybe it was only be an involuntary spasm.
Leion lowered her onto the couch, and then pulled up something that was either a stool or a low table without looking at it, and sat beside her, taking her hand. He raised his head. "Imai. You have to help her."
"How can I? I've heard of dispersal—as a theory," said Silbrezhe, his attention riveted on Viyony. "I've never seen it—never heard of anyone having to treat anything like this." He touched Viyony's cheek gently and then sucked in his breath. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "I don't like this temperature. What, precisely, did these people give her?"
"We don't know," Leion said.
"Then there's little I can do. I doubt anyone outside of Starfall would know how to handle this. I must know what she has taken -"
Leion closed his eyes and saw in his mind's eye, not Chiulder, but Viyony exploding into coloured dust in his arms, scattered away into nothing, maybe haunting the Zillence house forever. "She's going to die! Do something. Anything is better than nothing." The realisation that his half a book's worth of reading on the subject made him better informed than the medic was not reassuring.
Tana nodded to Ossilian, who was hovering out in the hallway. "See if Eollan can tell you what he gave her. If there's any of it left, we need it."
Ossilian disappeared.
Leion wanted to throw things at them all. "Eollan won't know, and there's not time enough for analysis! He's just shipping this stuff in! Look, the basis is always, always starstone water mixed with bloodroot. The proportions vary widely, as does the type of bloodroot—that's the tricky bit—but you're safe to assume that much."
Viyony's eyelids fluttered. She could barely shape words, but she hadn't stopped trying, and she was growing hotter to the touch. Chiulder had blazed up like a small beacon in the alleyway.
"I'm sorry," said Imai Silbrezhe. "I understand your distress, but I can't treat a case like this. The only thing I could possibly offer is dead dust, but -"
Leion held up a hand. "No! At this stage, dead dust would be too much of a shock. It would precipitate the final explosion, and -" He didn't want to think about the description he'd read of that. "Worse," he said. "Very nasty. Please, give her a sedative. It's the only thing that might help."
"Are you a trained medic?" Imai Silbrezhe asked, his brows closing.
Leion ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it into wild tufts. "No. But—please! Look, she's becoming pure energy. Once the process achieves a certain momentum there's no stopping it. I don't want you to treat her blindly, but there's no time!"
Tana stepped in. "Imai Silbrezhe. On behalf of the High Council, I'm ordering you to do as Leion says."
The man hesitated, bristling, and for one moment, it looked as if he would snap his bag shut and walk out, but he glanced at Viyony and the lines of irritation on his face smoothed out into pity.
"I will take full responsibility," said Tana.
Silbrezhe nodded. He helped Leion to lower Viyony flat on the couch, and then waved him to stand aside. The shining silvery blue and lilac motes around her were becoming brighter, more prominent, and she was shaking.
Leion grabbed her hand. " Viyony," he said sharply, and squeezed her fingers tightly enough to make her open her eyes. She gasped. Her face was streaked with tears. "Look at me. Vain, yes, I know—tell me off another day. Did you hear that? We're going to help you. Just focus on me, nothing else." He raised his head to address the medic. "She needs to rest, to allow her body to return to normal while it's still fighting to do that. While she still has a chance."
The medic nodded slowly. He reached into his bag. "I would like it noted that I am not happy about this." He nevertheless set about preparing a syringe, drawing out a vial. "Now, hold her steady."
Leion held his breath as Silbrezhe administered the drug. As soon as the man had pulled back, his mouth still turned down in disapproval, Leion perched precariously on the furthest edge of the couch. "There," Leion said, his gaze fixed on Viyony. "You'll be fine now, I'm sure."
"What else can we do?" asked Tana.
Leion closed his eyes. He hoped to the furthest reaches of the rift above that he was remembering what he'd read correctly. "Maybe don't use any starstone-based lamps," he said. "Keep the screens over the windows and cover any mirrors."
"More practically," said Silbrezhe, "we must get her to take some more liquids—or, indeed, anything soft enough not to be an effort. What do you have in the house?"
"That's the problem," said Leion. "Tana. We'll need more water, and there may still be some milk. Oh, and a bowl, too, with cloths."
"Yes, naturally we need to bring her temperature down." Silbrezhe sounded testy.
Leion looked at Viyony. "See? Everything you could want! You'll be up and scolding me in no time."
"I'm sure the affiniate expert will arrive soon," said Tana. "Imai Merslake," she added to Silbrezhe, who nodded as if the name meant something to him.
Leion coughed. "And everyone who's not me and Imai Silbrezhe should get out. Viyony needs quiet."
After the others left, the medic looked at Leion. "I am most uncomfortable about this. This is not the way to proceed."
"Just imagine how she feels," said Leion, nodding his head towards Viyony.
Silbrezhe paused. "Yes. I understand, but -"
"Maybe," said Leion, "you should see about those damp cloths? Can't leave it to a lot of guards." Leion followed Silbrezhe's progress out of the room, and once he was sure he had gone and closed the door behind him, he sank into a heap at the foot of the couch and put his head in his hands.
"High-handed." Viyony's voice was barely a croak.
Leion started and nearly fell over himself in his effort to crawl over to sit close enough to Viyony to hear her. "Shh. No talking." He reached for the glass of water. "Drink."
She allowed him to adjust her position so that she could do so. "Saw everything," she murmured, once she'd taken a few more sips. She sighed and slid back down the cushion. The aura around her hadn't gone away, but already she wasn't shaking anything like as much as before.
Leion removed the glass hastily. "So I gathered. It's over now, though. Just look at me, yes?"
She managed a nod.
"I'll tell you a story," he said softly, and sat on the rug beside the couch, close, but not too close, where he could speak quietly. "Well. Maybe not a story. Real things to focus on, yes?"
He settled down, and told her her the first stupid things he could think of—Fern knocking papers off his desk, causing him a muddle with a client, and how pleased his mother had been with the sweets from the wedding they had attended.
Imai Silbrezhe bustled back in before he had finished, and handed Leion a cloth and bowl. "I gather the expert has arrived, so I shall speak to them—they may not want me in attendance as well."
"Have they?" said Leion. He took the cloth, dampened it in the water, and draped it across Viyony's forehead. "I am sorry if I was ungrateful, Imai. I'm extremely glad you came. I just—had to make sure we tried something."
Silbrezhe nodded. "Yes, yes. I'll be back for my bag in any case."
"Hear that?" said Leion to Viyony as the medic shut the door softly behind him. "An expert! Not that we need them, I've sorted it all out already, but -"
Viyony grasped his hand suddenly, as he attempted to adjust the cloth, which slipped at her movement. She looked at him, not quite focused, but intent. "Eollan wouldn't listen and then I saw the tower. And the moon, Leion. She said I should come back."
"Did she?" said Leion, bending in closer; her voice was hardly even a whisper. "Well, thank the moon, then."
Viyony sighed. "Promise, promise you'll be there. Important. In the ravine. My ravine."
"Eseray?"
She nodded. "Yes. 1327. Greening. Sixth. Promise, promise."
Leion counted the years. Fourteen. Would it be that long, after this summer, until they met again? It felt like a curse laid on his heart. He met her gaze, however, and squeezed her hand firmly. "Yes. I promise. I'll be there."
"Say it."
He repeated the date, and then reached inside his pocket for the message Ossilian had sent him, and scribbled Greening 6, 1327 at Eseray's ravine on the back of it and held it up to her so she could see it.
She relaxed and let go. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out. Her skin still had that unnatural tinge of blue, but she wasn't glowing now.
"Oh," said Leion. That was probably good, but he wasn't sure whether or not he should let her sleep yet. He picked himself up, intending to find Tana's expert, but before he could get to the door, it opened, and a tall woman in a pale green medical overdress slipped inside.
She surveyed the room before she spoke, her gaze resting on Viyony at the last. "Is she asleep?" she asked, her tone carefully low.
"I think so," Leion said. "Should she be? What if she starts dreaming?"
She nodded. "True dreams, you mean? I take your point, but sleep, rest, is paramount for her recovery. In the state she's in, she'd likely have waking dreams anyway. Safer to let her sleep."
Leion swallowed. "What should we do?"
"Hard to judge in such an unusual case," Imai Merslake said. "I don't have any practical experience with dispersal, either. But, yes, let her sleep. Someone should stay with her, and we should make sure she eats or drinks whatever she can manage. If she stabilises, I might risk a minute dose of deadroot powder, but we shall see how things go."
Leion nodded. "I'll watch her until one of the family arrives."
"Good." Imai Merslake moved nearer and crouched down, slowly and quietly so as not to disturb Viyony. She reached for her wrist and took her pulse, and then asked Leion to dampen more of the cloths, while she loosened Viyony's festival dress to make it easier to apply them. Once that had been done, she stood. "Keep her calm, quiet, cool. I need a word with your other medic, but really—we can only give her the chance to rest and trust that allows her body to return to normality. And that is essentially down to her."
Leion watched Merslake leave, and then sat down on the rug. The prophetic note was lying beside him. He tucked it away in his trouser pocket without looking at it again. 1327 was too far away to consider. Right now, tomorrow was all of a thousand lengths away as it was; maybe too far for Viyony to make it. All he could do here, today was to wait and watch—and hope.
Story: Starfall
Colors: Azul #5 (Champion); Warm Heart #4 (Pain)
Supplies and Styles: Chiaroscuro + Portrait + Pastels (
allbingo Colour Fest square "Red Cross")Word Count: 6895
Rating: Teen
Warnings: Mild drug use, threat of death/injury, needles.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan. Leion Valerno, Viyony Eseray, Eollan Barra, Tana Veldiner. Carries on from Missteps.
Summary: Leion investigates a mysterious message in the middle of the night and Viyony dreams.
Gathering 14/15, Poll 5
"Imai Valerno!"
Leion raised his head off the desk, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He pulled it away to find someone standing there, inside his office. "What in the—who are you?"
"Messenger," the young man said, and gestured at his distinctive uniform—grey shirt and trousers edged with starflower blue and a dark red sash. "Your door was open."
Leion ran a hand through his hair and screwed up his face. "Shit. Sorry. I was—expecting someone. I fell asleep. Well? What is it?"
He held out the note in his hand. "Sender is Imai Ossilian Fennit. She says the night is young."
"Rubbish," said Leion, reaching out for the message. "It's positively ancient by this point."
The messenger drew back, and said again, barely refraining from an eye roll, "She says, Imai Valerno: the night is young."
"Oh," said Leion. "Of course she does. And, ah, we shall sail halfway to Tamah in the morning and what a catch we will have. Give that here, since I imagine it's urgent."
The messenger held it out. "Any reply?" he asked, while Leion scanned it.
"No, no. Off you go," said Leion. "I need to leave!"
The messenger gave a sharp nod and removed himself.
Leion re-read the note, just to check the address—South Riverside, or just below it, rather. A decent area, residential mostly, but leaning a little towards the direction of the docklands. He held the paper with his mouth while he shrugged on a light jacket, and then removed it again before he left the office. He locked the door behind him, and set off at a run.
Leion slowed as he reached Shara's Way, keeping to the side, close against the buildings, out of sight of the hawker still plying his wares back at the corner by the main street. He wasn't sure what the time was. He had stayed up, hoping for Viyony to come back from the festival—restlessly moving from one room to the other until he'd settled at the desk, where he could watch the door, and had accidentally dropped off. He rubbed his neck, aching in consequence, and continued along the road. The note had summoned him to the end house, and he was looking for Imai Fennet, one of Tana's people. He'd worked with her a few times so he ought to be able spot her easily enough.
He tried not to think about the implications of the note. It gave little away, but there was Viyony, whom he'd left unaccounted for at the Sea Festival. It couldn't be that, he told himself. She must have gone off with Laida or Mierly Modelen and their set. He wished he was sure, though. There was also the other possibility, which Viyony would have pointed out to him—that it wouldn't be the first time he had been lured into a trap by a note. Ossilian was real, though, and the messenger knew the right code. Still, Leion eyed the deeper wells of shadows in the gaps between the buildings warily as he walked on.
"Imai Valerno."
He started and then stepped aside from the street to join Ossilian Fennit where she was waiting at the entrance to a narrow passageway between two houses. "What is all this?"
"A dilemma," she said in a low tone. She was a sturdy woman some years older than him, who barely came up to his shoulder. "I've sent word to the High Chamber office, but even if someone comes, I can't act without confirmation of my suspicions. That's why I thought of you."
Leion raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I've been keeping an eye on Eollan Barra—he and a group of his associates are holed up in that house." She nodded to the end house of on the opposite side of the street.
Leion squinted over in the direction she indicated. "Oh, yes. Sharal Zillence's place. They're away at the moment—a good spot for a party, then."
"Yes, that's what it looked like, to begin with, but it's been hours since anyone came in or out. By my reckoning, there are at about twelve or thirteen people still in there—but there's only one light that I can see and I've not heard a sound in all that time. Strange sort of party."
"Well, Eollan is getting on these days," said Leion. "Perhaps they packed it in and went to bed."
She looked at him. "The other worrying thing is that one of them was Imai Eseray. We were supposed to -"
"What?" said Leion.
"Imai Eseray—any contact between her and Colonel Barra was another thing Imai Veldiner wanted reporting should it occur."
"But she couldn't have done! She wouldn't go off with Eollan—she promised me!" A flurry of unappealing ideas raced through Leion's brain—Viyony in danger—Viyony dispersing like Chiulder—or having her affair with Eollan instead of him. (It wasn't as if it mattered; that was what she had said to him). He shook them all away. "Explain."
"She arrived with Tessine Hyan not long before things went quiet," said Ossilian. "She hasn't left, although Tessine did."
"Well, why didn't you send for Tana straight away?" said Leion. "You should have made sure Viyony was all right!"
"Keep your voice down," said Ossilian. "I sent word to Tana. I told you. The problem is, that's a house full of people who will cause a lot of trouble if we barge in on their private party without good reason. So—I sent for you."
Leion closed his eyes. "Ah."
"You merely happening to gatecrash -"
"Yes, yes, I'm ahead of you," he said. Nobody would make speeches in the High Council Chambers about infringements of people's liberties if he turned up uninvited. They would no doubt be annoyed and they might well throw him out, maybe literally, but everyone could live with that. "Wait one moment."
He darted back into the main road, heading back uphill to where he'd seen the street seller hanging around. Leion bought a small cup of sea spirit from his tray. He took a quick sip of blue, fiery liquid, and coughed, before spilling half of it down his front.
"Hey!" said the seller, waking up enough to protest. "That was quality stuff! What d'you do that for?"
Leion winked. "Matter of life or death."
He marched down to the door of the Zillence house. "Here we go," he muttered, bracing himself and then stepped up to hammer his fist on it, yelling all the while for someone to let him in.
After a couple of minutes a bleary-eyed youth pulled the door open. Leion wasn't sure if he knew him or not, but couldn't put a name to him either way. The unwilling doorman blinked, and said slowly, "Who're you?"
"Leion Valerno," he said, elbowing his way inside. He kicked the door closed behind him and slung his arm around the young man's shoulders. "Here for the party—hey, where is everyone?" He paused, and frowned at the other. He rather thought the seller had been right: his attempt to provide authenticity to his drunken cover had been a waste of alcohol.
"They're downstairs," the young man said, slowly. He put a hand up to his head, light brown fingers threaded through dark curls that had patches dyed or painted in festival shades of blue, green and white.
Leion surveyed him more closely, but the only light in the hallway came from one dim lamp hung up half a length away. He guided the young man nearer the light, and he didn't object, merely allowing himself to be manoeuvred. Leion tilted his head and his gaze narrowed.
"What have you been taking?" he asked.
The young man shrugged. He screwed up his face. "I do know you. Imai Valerno!"
"Thank you," said Leion. "Famous at last, I see." He stepped beyond the other, peering into the nearest room. There was nobody inside and there were dust covers over the furniture. "They're all downstairs? In the cellar?"
He nodded.
"Do you have a name?" Leion said more softly.
The young man frowned. "Evver. Evver Wylinse."
"Right," said Leion. "And what are they doing down there? Seeking guidance from the Powers, perhaps?"
Evver stared and then slowly gave another nod.
"Visions and so on?"
Evver shook himself. "Why do you want to know?"
"Eollan and the rest are down there with Viyony Eseray, getting her to prophesy, yes?" Leion couldn't keep the edge out of his voice. He grasped Evver's shirt. "Well?"
Evver bit his lip. "Um. Yes. What's that to you?"
"Hang on," said Leion. He shoved Evver against the wall, but with little force in it. "Stay there!"
Leion turned back to the door and whistled for Ossilian. As soon as she joined him, he said, "You're right. We have a situation. Send for help—now! I'm going to see what else I can get out of this young idiot." His palms itched as he thought of Viyony downstairs, maybe dosed up on the same substance Chiulder had taken, but he had to find out more first.
Ossilian raced off, leaving Leion alone with Evver. He patted the youth's arm. "Right," Leion said. "Come on. Let's sort you out." He tugged Evver after him. The house's layout was fairly typical and the long hallway led through to the kitchen. The other doors they passed were open or ajar, the rooms darkened and empty of anything other than more ghostly shapes of furniture under dust sheets. Leion pushed his way into the kitchen. It was more brightly lit than the hallway—there was a large lightstone lamp on the table as well as a smaller one hanging up in the workspace.
He let go of Evver and scanned the room. There were three doors—one in the corner so narrow it had to be a closet, and another had a screen set in it, which must be the way out into the courtyard. Leion's gaze returned to the door in the middle of the opposite wall. It was painted white and had a key in the lock in addition to a bolt on the top and bottom, both of which were slid back, open. Leion crossed to it and pressed his ear against the wood, but heard nothing.
"I don't think," said Evver with effort, "you should be here."
Leion tugged him onwards, over to the outer door. "Yes, I should," he said, as he opened it and led him out into the night. "You're going to be very glad I am, but first—I need some proper help from you, so bear with me -"
He dragged Evver across to the pump and held his head under the flow of water while Evver yelled and flailed feebly in protest. After a few moments, Leion released him and let go of the pump's handle.
"Now," he said. "We need to talk."
Evver coughed and spluttered while he pushed dampened hair back, the colours in it running in blue and green streaks down his face. "What did you do that for?"
"I need you sobered up," said Leion. "Right now, we're looking at a charge of kidnapping against Eollan and his crew downstairs, with you as an accessory. But if we don't so something fast, it'll be murder."
"Eollan wouldn't hurt her," protested Evver. "He said he wouldn't. It's—it's a good thing." He waved a hand. "She's special."
Leion stilled for a moment. "Maybe he doesn't intend to," he said eventually, and surprised himself at how calm he sounded. "But he doesn't have a clue what he's dealing with when it comes to Viyony. Now, would you like me to speak up for you when the Guardians get here—tell them how helpful you were—or not? I mean, if just saving Imai Eseray's life isn't reason enough—but maybe that's too much to hope for."
Evver hesitated, and then said, sulkily, "I'll help."
Leion looked at the door leading back into the house. He ought not to rush into a nest of Eollan's followers without Ossilian and preferably several Guardians or High Guards in addition, but Viyony's time must be running out. The only thing he could be reasonably certain of was that she could not have dispersed yet. Even if Eollan and the rest were as far out of it as Evver, Viyony exploding into a cloud of shining motes would have everyone piling out of that cellar regardless, yelling and screaming all the way.
Leion shook off an intrusive memory of Chiulder's death, and tasted bile. He set his shoulders and marched Evver back into the kitchen. "Get yourself some water," he ordered in a low tone.
He left Evver and moved across to the cellar door, pressing his ear against it for a second time. He still couldn't hear anything except for Evver rattling about on the other side of the room in his efforts to find an unused cup.
Ossilian should be back any minute with reinforcements, and nobody downstairs was showing any signs of life. Maybe they had passed out or fallen asleep? A look had to be worth the risk. Leion gripped the door handle and, gently, slowly, twisted it. It didn't offer much resistance, but the small noise it made sounded too loud in the quietness. He froze, waiting, but no response came from below. He straightened, then removed his jacket and threw it over the lamp on the table—he didn't want any sudden light from above alerting everyone when he opened the door.
"Hey," said Evver from the area by the workbench and wash basin, and then dropped something. It hit the floorboards like a rock and rolled onwards, Evver scrabbling after it just as noisily.
Leion cursed under his breath, but even that brought no reaction from the cellar. Either they really were out of it, or they had got used to Evver making a racket up here. Leion's shoulders lowered. He walked softly back to the cellar door and pushed it ajar, peering round it.
There were stone steps leading downwards; a pale glow emanating from the area below. Leion moved forward, leaning over the painted metal balustrade to get a proper look at what was going on. The basement had been adorned with eight or nine lightstone lamps of white, yellow, and rose, their dim glare multiplied by mirrors hung on all the walls. About a dozen people, obscured in the shadowed area in the centre, lounged about on cushions and thick rugs. Some of them were upright, their attention fixed on the figure at the front, but most were slumped over, maybe even asleep.
There was another presence in the room, though, and Leion felt its force before he saw her, a sort of humming in the air. Viyony. He took the first step downwards, queasiness stirring in his stomach. How far gone was she? He swallowed, but steeled himself to look directly at her.
Viyony was standing on a low dais at the front of the room. She was talking, but in too low a voice for him to hear. Her inaudibility didn't bother her audience, who seemed to be even less alert than Evver had been. She was glowing, Leion thought, but told himself that was only the effect of the lights and mirrors. He looked again, and his heart lurched in his chest.
The lamp nearest to Viyony gave out a dim yellow light, but the faint nimbus around her was silvery blue and lilac. Leion couldn't entirely blame Eollan and the rest for being transfixed—she might as well be a Power or goddess, standing there, shining as she muttered endless prophesies. How long had she been in this state? He couldn't take his eyes off her—and then she lifted her gaze upwards, a tremor crossing her face. She had seen him; she was to some degree lucid. Leion forgot everything else and tore down the steps, leaping over a recumbent body lying at the bottom to get to her.
The dais skidded under him—it had been hastily constructed for the occasion and was not fixed to the floor. He bit down on a yell and steadied himself against the wall. The watchers around him stirred in a soft rustle of clothes and murmurs from the darkened centre of the room. Leion ignored them, keeping his attention on the one thing that mattered.
"Viyony," he said, risking a tentative hand to her arm. She didn't cease muttering, staring past him at invisible people and places. Had he only imagined that moment of connection? Then she trembled wildly at his touch and fought to turn her head; she flexed her fingers to grasp hold of him, but had no strength to raise her hand.
"Valerno!" Eollan crossed over from where he'd been sitting close by, propped up against the wall. He moved slowly, barely even registering concern. He was certainly not Atino—his cousin had never drugged himself, only other people. "Now you see—now you see—how important it is -"
Leion put himself between Eollan and Viyony. "Stop this! You're killing her!"
"No, no, this is what she was meant to be -"
Leion swore at him, and then glanced around the room. Sweat trickled down his brow. If this lot roused, he could hardly fight his way out through all of them. He hesitated—what should he do? But only one man even tried to stand. The others merely slept on, or watched without reaction, as if his interruption was part of the ceremony.
Eollan lurched towards him. Leion stiffened, fingers clenching into a fist, but he put up the other hand, as if to bar Eollan's progress, and caught him with it, harder than either of them expected. Eollan, already unsteady and on the edge of the dais, fell backwards into a tangle of worshippers and cushions, loose sheets of paper flapping after him. He'd been taking notes of what his oracle said, apparently. Leion lowered his fist, more disappointed than relieved.
"This session is over," Leion yelled. "Enough is enough." He put his arm around Viyony, and said in her ear, "It's me, Leion. Can you hear me? We have to go!"
Eollan got to his feet, but his attention was fixed on Viyony, a frown growing on his face. "I wouldn't hurt her," he muttered, but he wouldn't meet Leion's eyes. "You just don't see anything."
"Really? Then let me get her out of here, before it's too late!"
Eollan didn't reply, but when a woman moved forward, he caught her arm, holding her back. There was a stormy look in his eyes as he watched Leion and Viyony on the dais.
Leion tightened his grip on Viyony and pulled her away, over to the stairs. A Hyan, a cousin of Tess's, lumbered to his feet and tried to stand in front of them, but Leion glared, ploughing on regardless, and the man stepped aside in one jerky movement, maybe at a nod from Eollan. Leion didn't look around to find out. His heart beat pounded in his ears. He wished one of them would try something, not quite rational with rage, but kept his head enough to push Viyony, unresisting, stumbling, up the stairs. Stars alone knew what Eollan was thinking, and if he changed his mind or sobered up, they'd be in trouble. They were outnumbered, and Eollan, unlike Leion, was a soldier, a trained fighter.
Leion shouldered the door at the top open and then backed through it, Viyony increasingly heavy against him. "Shut and bolt that door!" he ordered Evver as soon as they emerged into the kitchen. "Now!"
Evver jumped, but did as he was told. Behind him, Leion heard the door shut and the grinding sound of the bolt being pushed into place. He caught Viyony up in his arms, and carried her the few short steps over to the table, almost knocking the lamp over as he laid her down there. He steadied the lamp, saving it and his jacket from falling to the floor.
"Fetch water!" he snapped at Evver, and then bent over Viyony. He clasped her fingers and used his free hand to turn her head gently, unsure if she was conscious. She shifted weakly and looked up at him, before recognition faded and her gaze travelled on past, her lips moving in a continual, soundless whisper.
Leion looked around wildly for help, but the kitchen was empty of anything but festival junk, and Ossilian had not returned. Viyony was still glowing, a faint sheen of lilac and pale blue to her skin. Panic seized Leion, but he placed his palms on the wood of the table and breathed in and out. He was all Viyony had right now. He could not, must not, let her down twice in one night.
"Viyony," he said, his mouth dry. Her name cracked inside it. "It's me. Leion. Please, look at me—focus on me, the table—anything solid, here, now. Do you understand?"
She gave what he hoped was a faint nod.
"Good," he said. He retrieved his jacket and folded it up to place it under her head. It was a light, summer garment and not much of a pillow, but better than the hard surface. He brushed her hair back from her face as Evver trundled over with water.
Leion took the cup from him. "Right. Now, go—find a medic!"
"You can't order me about like this," grumbled Evver, but he cast a worried eye at Viyony.
Leion raised his eyebrows. "Funny, I thought you might want me to mention to the justice how you heroically went off for a medic without even being asked. Do you want her to die?"
"All right, but it's late—early -"
"Medics are used to that," said Leion. "Go! And if you pass any sellers with any sort of soup or sweet, milky drinks—anything like that—pick something up."
Evver ran.
"Let's hope he comes back," said Leion to Viyony. He pulled her up and put his free arm around her, positioning her so he could hold the cup to her mouth. "Gently does it." He waited while she sipped at it, and then said, "Whatever you're seeing—visions, dreams—stop, don't. Keep all your attention on right now. You've done enough—too much. Eollan wrote it down; it's all there. You can stop." Paper had scattered around Eollan, hadn't it, when he had fallen? But if it was a lie, Leion didn't really care.
Viyony didn't respond. Her body was heavy against his arm, her skin overheated. Yet all he could do alone was to hold her steady and let her drink. Somewhere behind him, he heard thuds and then thumping on the door. The cellar dwellers waking up, presumably. "Knock all you want," he said under his breath. "You can stay down there forever, as far as I'm concerned!"
"... tower..." mumbled Viyony. She trembled in his hold.
Leion put the cup down and pressed his hand to her burning forehead. "Viyony, stop! Please. Think of Eseray! Look at me—hold on. Help is on its way."
But the spell of lucidity seemed to have passed. She remained limp against his arm, muttering constantly, inaudibly, into his shirt sleeve.
"Don't—don't," he tried to say and failed. He leant in nearer, his head touching hers, before he pulled back. He could not let this be the end.
"Right—listen!" He raised his voice, making it an order. The pressure of her fingers on his increased and she shifted her head against him. "Good. I've read about this—well, half a book—but I'm the best you've got, so pay attention. I can be an idiot, I know—and sorry for before—but I really do -"
"Well, that's honest," said Ossilian from behind Leion. She walked over to stand beside the table. "How is she?"
Leion pulled a face in reply and shook his head. He turned back to Viyony. "There, see—help is here! Stay with me. Ossilian, can you see if there's anything around she could eat or drink? They've had her prophesying down there for hours on end -" He had to cut himself short; saying it lit a red hot taper within.
"Right." Ossilian moved away and Leion heard the occasional sound from the other end of the room, of items being lifted up, papers being moved, and the clatter of pots and crockery.
"Don't worry about the dreams. I'll follow up anything you want later. Promise." Leion held Viyony's gaze until he met a gleam of understanding in her eyes. "Now, let's find somewhere more comfortable for you."
"... s'too much," she murmured. "So much."
"Yes," he agreed. "Exactly. No more visions. See, this place? We're in the kitchen in Sharal Zillence's house. Full of festival rubbish—I can smell fried fish somewhere. Can't you?"
Viyony breathed out, motes of lilac, white and blue dancing in the lamp's rays; her spirit evaporating from within.
"No!" said Leion. "Viyony!"
She opened her eyes again with an effort. Fried fish? she mouthed.
"Yes," he said, and hoped he sounded steadier than he felt. "You must be able to smell it."
She frowned.
"And I never made you try sea spirit," said Leion. "It's blue. Vile stuff. We must do that someday."
Ossilian crossed over. "I warmed some milk and honey. I think the milk is all right."
Leion took the cup she held out to him. "Thanks. Come on, Viyony. You need something inside you."
She sipped at it intermittently, while Ossilian said in a lower tone, "Tana is on her way. It won't be long now. How did you get her out?"
"They're all half stupid on something," said Leion. "Several of them are asleep, and, well, I was too angry to think straight. They're all locked in now anyway." He indicated the cellar door with his head. "I sent Evver for a medic, by the way. I just hope he hasn't run off."
Ossilian swore. "You shouldn't have gone down there without me and you shouldn't have let anyone leave!"
Leion kept his attention on Viyony. "I was only trying to assess the situation—and then I saw -" He nodded to the faint glow emanating from Viyony.
Ossilian's eyes widened as she registered it for the first time. It wasn't anything like as obvious in the brighter light of the kitchen. "Stars," she said. "What do we do?"
"Get her somewhere more comfortable," said Leion. "Can you see if there's a couch in one of the other rooms? I can't leave her."
Ossilian nodded, and disappeared.
Viyony slumped against Leion, her eyes half closed, muttering unintelligibly.
"Excuse me," said Leion, poking her gently. "I was talking." He put down the milk and shifted his hold on her, his arm starting to grow numb. "We haven't finished yet."
She didn't respond, and when he leant his head in nearer to catch what she was saying, it was only more dreams and visions, "... blood on the grass... blue stone... so cold..." Leion fell silent. Was he watching her fade away to become a dream herself? The idea choked him. She shifted in his arms and more coloured dust motes rose into the air. Hot saltwater pricked his eyes and his throat constricted.
The front door opened, and people were suddenly thundering about in the hallway. Leion raised his head. "Evver! In here!"
"Leion."
It was Tana. She halted in the doorway before giving herself a shake and then hurrying over. Two High Guards followed her into the kitchen. "I came as quickly as I could." She eyed Viyony. "How is she?"
"We need a medic," said Leion. He scrubbed his free hand across his eyes. "Didn't you bring one?"
Tana stepped forward. "I sent word to the Vionnic Hospital, but I don't know how soon they can root out their expert on affiniate issues."
"Found a couch," Ossilian said, also returning. "Ah. Imai Veldiner. The culprits are all locked in the cellar, bar one. They seem to have neutralised themselves—we might need a medic for them, too."
"Bar one?"
As if it was a proper festival party and all of the guests had started arriving at once, Evver burst in on his cue, breathless and much more alert than he had been when he'd left. He stood back and gestured dramatically to the plump little man behind him. "I found one! A medic!"
"Thank the stars," breathed Leion. He straightened. "Over here, Imai -?"
The man edged his way through the crowd that was gathering in the kitchen until he reached the table. Behind him, the others milled around, some going out into the yard and others back into the hallway. At least one stamped up the stairs. The medic drew in his breath and ran a hand through silver-threaded black hair. "Silbrezhe. Whatever is going on here?"
"She's dispersing," said Leion. "Viyony. Help her!"
"But this—isn't possible!" He disappeared out of Leion's vision for a moment before returning with the lamp in his hand. He held it up, casting a pale glow over his face and distorted shadows against the wall. "What happened?"
"Someone was trying to amplify her affinity. She has true dreams. Now that's all she's seeing."
"Oh, dear," sighed the medic. "Oh, dear, oh dear." He cast an eye around the bustling kitchen and his face darkened. "Is there nowhere better for her than this?"
"Second room on the left," said Ossilian. "A couch." She signalled for the largest of the guards to help out.
Leion shook his head and picked Viyony up himself. "I don't trust anyone else," he whispered to her. She didn't respond, but she clutched at the fabric of his shirt. He hoped it meant something, but maybe it was only be an involuntary spasm.
Leion lowered her onto the couch, and then pulled up something that was either a stool or a low table without looking at it, and sat beside her, taking her hand. He raised his head. "Imai. You have to help her."
"How can I? I've heard of dispersal—as a theory," said Silbrezhe, his attention riveted on Viyony. "I've never seen it—never heard of anyone having to treat anything like this." He touched Viyony's cheek gently and then sucked in his breath. He pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "I don't like this temperature. What, precisely, did these people give her?"
"We don't know," Leion said.
"Then there's little I can do. I doubt anyone outside of Starfall would know how to handle this. I must know what she has taken -"
Leion closed his eyes and saw in his mind's eye, not Chiulder, but Viyony exploding into coloured dust in his arms, scattered away into nothing, maybe haunting the Zillence house forever. "She's going to die! Do something. Anything is better than nothing." The realisation that his half a book's worth of reading on the subject made him better informed than the medic was not reassuring.
Tana nodded to Ossilian, who was hovering out in the hallway. "See if Eollan can tell you what he gave her. If there's any of it left, we need it."
Ossilian disappeared.
Leion wanted to throw things at them all. "Eollan won't know, and there's not time enough for analysis! He's just shipping this stuff in! Look, the basis is always, always starstone water mixed with bloodroot. The proportions vary widely, as does the type of bloodroot—that's the tricky bit—but you're safe to assume that much."
Viyony's eyelids fluttered. She could barely shape words, but she hadn't stopped trying, and she was growing hotter to the touch. Chiulder had blazed up like a small beacon in the alleyway.
"I'm sorry," said Imai Silbrezhe. "I understand your distress, but I can't treat a case like this. The only thing I could possibly offer is dead dust, but -"
Leion held up a hand. "No! At this stage, dead dust would be too much of a shock. It would precipitate the final explosion, and -" He didn't want to think about the description he'd read of that. "Worse," he said. "Very nasty. Please, give her a sedative. It's the only thing that might help."
"Are you a trained medic?" Imai Silbrezhe asked, his brows closing.
Leion ran his fingers through his hair, tugging it into wild tufts. "No. But—please! Look, she's becoming pure energy. Once the process achieves a certain momentum there's no stopping it. I don't want you to treat her blindly, but there's no time!"
Tana stepped in. "Imai Silbrezhe. On behalf of the High Council, I'm ordering you to do as Leion says."
The man hesitated, bristling, and for one moment, it looked as if he would snap his bag shut and walk out, but he glanced at Viyony and the lines of irritation on his face smoothed out into pity.
"I will take full responsibility," said Tana.
Silbrezhe nodded. He helped Leion to lower Viyony flat on the couch, and then waved him to stand aside. The shining silvery blue and lilac motes around her were becoming brighter, more prominent, and she was shaking.
Leion grabbed her hand. " Viyony," he said sharply, and squeezed her fingers tightly enough to make her open her eyes. She gasped. Her face was streaked with tears. "Look at me. Vain, yes, I know—tell me off another day. Did you hear that? We're going to help you. Just focus on me, nothing else." He raised his head to address the medic. "She needs to rest, to allow her body to return to normal while it's still fighting to do that. While she still has a chance."
The medic nodded slowly. He reached into his bag. "I would like it noted that I am not happy about this." He nevertheless set about preparing a syringe, drawing out a vial. "Now, hold her steady."
Leion held his breath as Silbrezhe administered the drug. As soon as the man had pulled back, his mouth still turned down in disapproval, Leion perched precariously on the furthest edge of the couch. "There," Leion said, his gaze fixed on Viyony. "You'll be fine now, I'm sure."
"What else can we do?" asked Tana.
Leion closed his eyes. He hoped to the furthest reaches of the rift above that he was remembering what he'd read correctly. "Maybe don't use any starstone-based lamps," he said. "Keep the screens over the windows and cover any mirrors."
"More practically," said Silbrezhe, "we must get her to take some more liquids—or, indeed, anything soft enough not to be an effort. What do you have in the house?"
"That's the problem," said Leion. "Tana. We'll need more water, and there may still be some milk. Oh, and a bowl, too, with cloths."
"Yes, naturally we need to bring her temperature down." Silbrezhe sounded testy.
Leion looked at Viyony. "See? Everything you could want! You'll be up and scolding me in no time."
"I'm sure the affiniate expert will arrive soon," said Tana. "Imai Merslake," she added to Silbrezhe, who nodded as if the name meant something to him.
Leion coughed. "And everyone who's not me and Imai Silbrezhe should get out. Viyony needs quiet."
After the others left, the medic looked at Leion. "I am most uncomfortable about this. This is not the way to proceed."
"Just imagine how she feels," said Leion, nodding his head towards Viyony.
Silbrezhe paused. "Yes. I understand, but -"
"Maybe," said Leion, "you should see about those damp cloths? Can't leave it to a lot of guards." Leion followed Silbrezhe's progress out of the room, and once he was sure he had gone and closed the door behind him, he sank into a heap at the foot of the couch and put his head in his hands.
"High-handed." Viyony's voice was barely a croak.
Leion started and nearly fell over himself in his effort to crawl over to sit close enough to Viyony to hear her. "Shh. No talking." He reached for the glass of water. "Drink."
She allowed him to adjust her position so that she could do so. "Saw everything," she murmured, once she'd taken a few more sips. She sighed and slid back down the cushion. The aura around her hadn't gone away, but already she wasn't shaking anything like as much as before.
Leion removed the glass hastily. "So I gathered. It's over now, though. Just look at me, yes?"
She managed a nod.
"I'll tell you a story," he said softly, and sat on the rug beside the couch, close, but not too close, where he could speak quietly. "Well. Maybe not a story. Real things to focus on, yes?"
He settled down, and told her her the first stupid things he could think of—Fern knocking papers off his desk, causing him a muddle with a client, and how pleased his mother had been with the sweets from the wedding they had attended.
Imai Silbrezhe bustled back in before he had finished, and handed Leion a cloth and bowl. "I gather the expert has arrived, so I shall speak to them—they may not want me in attendance as well."
"Have they?" said Leion. He took the cloth, dampened it in the water, and draped it across Viyony's forehead. "I am sorry if I was ungrateful, Imai. I'm extremely glad you came. I just—had to make sure we tried something."
Silbrezhe nodded. "Yes, yes. I'll be back for my bag in any case."
"Hear that?" said Leion to Viyony as the medic shut the door softly behind him. "An expert! Not that we need them, I've sorted it all out already, but -"
Viyony grasped his hand suddenly, as he attempted to adjust the cloth, which slipped at her movement. She looked at him, not quite focused, but intent. "Eollan wouldn't listen and then I saw the tower. And the moon, Leion. She said I should come back."
"Did she?" said Leion, bending in closer; her voice was hardly even a whisper. "Well, thank the moon, then."
Viyony sighed. "Promise, promise you'll be there. Important. In the ravine. My ravine."
"Eseray?"
She nodded. "Yes. 1327. Greening. Sixth. Promise, promise."
Leion counted the years. Fourteen. Would it be that long, after this summer, until they met again? It felt like a curse laid on his heart. He met her gaze, however, and squeezed her hand firmly. "Yes. I promise. I'll be there."
"Say it."
He repeated the date, and then reached inside his pocket for the message Ossilian had sent him, and scribbled Greening 6, 1327 at Eseray's ravine on the back of it and held it up to her so she could see it.
She relaxed and let go. Her eyes fluttered closed and her breathing evened out. Her skin still had that unnatural tinge of blue, but she wasn't glowing now.
"Oh," said Leion. That was probably good, but he wasn't sure whether or not he should let her sleep yet. He picked himself up, intending to find Tana's expert, but before he could get to the door, it opened, and a tall woman in a pale green medical overdress slipped inside.
She surveyed the room before she spoke, her gaze resting on Viyony at the last. "Is she asleep?" she asked, her tone carefully low.
"I think so," Leion said. "Should she be? What if she starts dreaming?"
She nodded. "True dreams, you mean? I take your point, but sleep, rest, is paramount for her recovery. In the state she's in, she'd likely have waking dreams anyway. Safer to let her sleep."
Leion swallowed. "What should we do?"
"Hard to judge in such an unusual case," Imai Merslake said. "I don't have any practical experience with dispersal, either. But, yes, let her sleep. Someone should stay with her, and we should make sure she eats or drinks whatever she can manage. If she stabilises, I might risk a minute dose of deadroot powder, but we shall see how things go."
Leion nodded. "I'll watch her until one of the family arrives."
"Good." Imai Merslake moved nearer and crouched down, slowly and quietly so as not to disturb Viyony. She reached for her wrist and took her pulse, and then asked Leion to dampen more of the cloths, while she loosened Viyony's festival dress to make it easier to apply them. Once that had been done, she stood. "Keep her calm, quiet, cool. I need a word with your other medic, but really—we can only give her the chance to rest and trust that allows her body to return to normality. And that is essentially down to her."
Leion watched Merslake leave, and then sat down on the rug. The prophetic note was lying beside him. He tucked it away in his trouser pocket without looking at it again. 1327 was too far away to consider. Right now, tomorrow was all of a thousand lengths away as it was; maybe too far for Viyony to make it. All he could do here, today was to wait and watch—and hope.
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I didn't expect her to go supercritical so soon, but I appreciate the actual exploding part being so far averted.
She nodded. "Yes. 1327. Greening. Sixth. Promise, promise."
Nice to have another peg in the timeline.
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And poor Leion, discovering he'll not see her again for 14 years.
Psst! Beta note: "Oh," said Leion, scanning the note. "Of course she does. And, ah, we shall sail halfway to Tamah in the morning and what a catch we will have. Give that here, since I imagine it's urgent."
The messenger held it out. "Any reply?" he asked, while Leion scanned it.
You've got scanned and scanning together there, which is repetitive. Also, how can Leion scan the note *before* the messenger gives it to him?
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And, ha, thank you! I could try to claim that's to do with all the time travel sort of stuff going on, but I've settled for deleting the extraneous scanning. XD
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Sensible move!
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And, ha, I actually wrote this piece at least two years ago, or whenever it was I started writing the Leion and Viyony stuff - maybe it was three years now? - so it's been ages coming for me, as I just kept writing extra pieces all the time. And every other week of that time I have changed that particular date, so, lol. Yes. Ahem. I have to stick with it now. (Whatever it means).
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Look, you get a vision, you start with a certain amount of uncertainty, the possibilities winnow themselves down as you approach the actuality, it's normal.
(Unless the scene with Viyony and Marran in the Governor phase of his life was going to have been decanonized, I did figure she couldn't disperse at this date.)
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Yeah, I knew when I posted that I might end up having to discount it, and I don't think it can possibly fit now, unfortunately, so you never know, she might not make it... *attempts to look evil*
But tbf timelines around Viyony and Leion are weird, so there is that. No doubt it happened somewhen or other, somewhere. (They require a chart already, lol).
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Alas! I liked it.
But tbf timelines around Viyony and Leion are weird, so there is that. No doubt it happened somewhen or other, somewhere. (They require a chart already, lol).
I can see Leion making out a chart in self-defense, honestly.
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I guess Tana and Ossilian are official law enforcement in some capacity, so that's why it would be regarded poorly if they just barged into the house, whereas Leion is officially just Some Guy?
Curious how Eollan sees all of this, since his MO seems to be different than Atino's, and also he did let Leion leave with Viyony, and told some of his people to back down.
That seems like a pessimistic conclusion to jump to. I don't think she said anything to indicate that they wouldn't see each other at all in the interim.
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Yes, and more specifically, Leion moves in the same sort of social circles quite often, so him happening to turn up at something like this is unprovable as anything other than him wandering into a party uninvited, however coincidentally convenient it may be for certain people in officialdom.
That seems like a pessimistic conclusion to jump to. I don't think she said anything to indicate that they wouldn't see each other at all in the interim.
It is, yes. It's some unearthly hour of the morning, Viyony may still be dying, and that's the first thing Leion feels at that moment. Whether or not he is right remains to be seen. :-)
Thanks for reading! <3
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