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rainbowfic2026-01-08 08:24 pm
thisbluespirit) wrote in rainbowfic2026-01-08 08:24 pm
Warm Heart #26; Azul #25 [Starfall]
Name: Against the Flow
Story: Starfall
Colors: Warm Heart #26 (Hatred); Azul 25 (No promise of salvation)
Supplies and Styles: Giftwrap
Word Count: 2960
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of (fantasy) drug abuse.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan. Leion Valerno, Tana Veldiner, Eollan Barra, Ivina Gerro. Carries on from and your light can't guide me.
Summary: Leion is not in the mood for celebration.
Gathering 15
Leion sank down onto the steps outside the Zillence house. It was early, but the sun was already high enough to start warming the stones of the street, and he raised his face to its light. He'd left Viyony safely in the hands of her cousin Ivina, and he supposed he ought to be relieved about that and go home, but he couldn't quite yet, reliving the night over in his mind. If only—he should have got here sooner, done something more—not tried to pretend he was a medic, maybe made everything worse—he should have searched harder, never stopped, and, above all, never have said no to Viyony's proposition. He'd left some things at the borrowed apartment, in hope now proven unfounded. He'd have to remember to retrieve them before the week was out.
"Ha," he said under his breath, and put his head in his hands.
The door opened behind him, causing him to start and straighten up.
"Stop littering up the place," said Tana, poking him in the back with her foot before she navigated her exit round him. "Go, get some rest. Or do you need to throw yourself in the sea again?"
He looked up. "No. I just—I don't know." He kicked at a loose stone, then scooped it up in his hand, studying it vaguely for a moment before throwing it down. "What did Viyony run away for? If she'd stayed with me none of this would have happened! She must have known I didn't mean what I said. And going off with Eollan of all people—how could she?"
"Well, I'm sure this will teach her."
That brought him to a sharp stop. "Yes. Sorry. I didn't mean that, either. If I go home, will you let me strangle Eollan later?"
"No," said Tana, "but I do need you in my office first thing this afternoon, to give me a proper report on what happened."
"You want me to write a report now?"
Tana stifled a yawn. "Verbal will do—I'll have someone take it down for you. Go home, Leion. Get what sleep you can, and I'll see you after. That's an order!"
"Understood." Leion hauled himself up. "If anything happens with Viyony, you will send word?"
"I promise," said Tana.
Leion made his way down the street, feeling distinctly unalive, but that was usual for many revellers on the morning after the first night of Portcallan's Sea Festival, and none of the people milling around spared him a second glance. Once he got back to his flat above the office, he stretched himself out on the bed, tense, and scowling at the ceiling, not really expecting to sleep, but exhaustion won out in the end. He woke two or so hours later—about half an hour past the time Tana had asked him to be at High Chambers.
He sat up and swore.
Tana didn't even mention his lateness for once, and Leion duly dictated his report to her while a Chamber clerk sat nearby diligently jotting down every word. As soon as he had finished, he swivelled in his seat to face Tana.
"Well—where is he?"
Tana raised her head. She hesitated before giving an answer, but she didn't ask who Leion meant. "Locked up."
"I want to see him."
Tana put down her pen. "You aren't a permanent member of my staff, nor a Guardian of the Peace. And we don't want to do anything that will give them anything to use against us in court. You remember what happened last time."
"Yes, yes, and yes," said Leion. "Send someone in with me, that's fine, but I have questions I need to ask."
Tana eyed him for a long moment, twisting her pen between her fingers. Then she gave a small grimace and laid it down neatly on her desk. "Very well," she said. "But lay one finger on him, and I'll arrest you too!"
Eollan Barra was lying on the bench in one of the Chamber's holding cells with his arms behind his head. It might even be the same one they had shut Viyony in months ago. Leion found it hard to tell. They all looked alike. Eollan looked up slowly as the door creaked open and brushed his fine light brown hair back from his face without much effect, then tugged his shirt straight. The cell smelled of stringent cleaning fluids with a faint echo of urine and vomit. Leion wrinkled his nose as he followed Tana inside.
Eollan watched them. "How is she?"
A tremor passed through Leion. He had to freeze on the spot before all his good intentions deserted him.
"Alive," said Tana. "For the moment."
Eollan rubbed the side of his head. "I swear, I don't know why she was so strongly affected. I had no intention -"
Leion turned right round and exited the cell. He pressed himself against the other side of the wall, trembling with hot rage, heart pounding against his ribcage. He closed his eyes. He wasn't going to screw up a second case against a Barra who deserved to rot in prison.
He shook himself, took a deep breath, and went back inside the cell to hear Eollan still making excuses:
"I wasn't trying to hurt anyone! People must make use of these gifts, that's all—to honour the legacy of the Powers—if we don't, we're going to pay for it. Perhaps we already are. There are warnings going unheeded. Nobody cares! And look at Viyony – all that potential, that power, going to waste -"
Leion snorted; he couldn't help it.
Eollan raised his head. "Oh, what do you know?"
"More than you when it comes to messing about with affinity!" said Leion. "I can't—I won't speak to you about that. Whatever happened, whatever you meant—there is no way in this world or any other that Viyony agreed to take that stuff, so you must have forced it on her. And that -" He put up a hand. "Stars. Meant no harm!"
Eollan narrowed his gaze. "Well, she ran away from you, Valerno."
"If neither of you have anything useful to say," interjected Tana, her tone lowering the temperature in the cell by several degrees, "we'll leave."
Leion forced his anger back down. "Sorry, Tana. It's just this piece of sea shit -"
"Trying to help the country—the world, maybe, even -" Eollan muttered.
Leion moved a step nearer. "You did a test with the substance before, didn't you? On Calla Island. How?"
"What?" Eollan widened his eyes, and then stifled a short, humourless laugh. "Oh. I thought you worked it out. Wasn't that why you two went back into the cave?"
Leion couldn't answer: the memory of exploring the shrine with Viyony; emptying out the trapped tokens from the bottom of an old well, washed back over him, and it was almost too much. It would never happen again—the two of them running around, trying to work out the truth in her dreams, to make things right. She might be dying as he stood here. Even if she wasn't, Imoren would be here long before she'd fully recovered, and that would be the end of everything.
"No," Leion said eventually. "We were doing something quite different. You talk about affinity but you don't understand them at all. Visions, dreams, they come with obligations."
Eollan sagged back against the cell's wall. "Work it out for yourself."
"Are you sure I can't murder him even a little?" Leion asked Tana, then halted, running a hand through his hair. "It was something down in the cave, then? But it couldn't possibly be the starstone alone—so... you put it on something she touched?"
Eollan shrugged. "There was an altar for the Empty places, the Other Power. I coated the artefact inside it and encouraged Viyony to pick it up. I can't believe you didn't realise."
"No," said Leion.
Eollan winced, squinting against the light. "I assumed she'd ingested some—licked her fingers or whatever. I didn't realise that was all it took to have her seeing visions. I'd have got the dosage right yesterday, if I had."
Tana grabbed Leion's arm in warning, but there was no need. He merely spat out a sound of disgust and stormed out of the cell. She followed a few moments after, and the guard moved across to shut the door behind them with a final thud.
"Was it worth it?" asked Tana as they emerged out of the building into bright sunlight and a wave of afternoon heat.
Leion looked at her. "Maybe."
Yesterday felt like a nightmare. Eollan in custody, pale and unkempt, put some reality back into it all. He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing; being rather as unpleasant and sobering as most morning after awakenings.
"I'm curious, I admit," Tana said, frowning into the distance. "What he said about warnings going unheeded."
"Superstitious Northern rot," muttered Leion, not in the mood for conceding ground to someone who had almost murdered Viyony, maybe even had. "Turned his head. Or perhaps that was the drugs. Military life. Who knows, who cares? I'm going to find out how she is."
Tana waved him off. "They won't let you in at the hospital—go to the Gerros's house."
Ivina met him at the door. She had returned home to rest for a few hours, the family taking vigil at the hospital in shifts. "No news," she told him. "Viyony is still with us, but they're keeping her as quiet as possible." She placed a hand on his arm. "We will tell you if anything changes."
"Yes. Of course," said Leion. "I am sorry. You must blame me—for leaving her."
Ivina raised her eyebrows. "Must I? It would have been better if you had stayed with her, I'm sure. But Viyony is a fully grown adult with very decided ideas of her own. And you saved her life."
"Don't say that," he said. "The medics saved her. I just—did what I could."
Ivina drew back. "Have it as you please."
"Is there anything else I can do?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, but thank you. Let us hope for the best. We'll all be casting a token in the water for Viyony later."
Tokens seemed to be on everybody's mind. Leion dawdled along the road, dragging his feet, trying to think of something he could do for Viyony, and every few lengths or less someone was selling shell-shaped starstone, cheap wooden carvings, paper sea creatures, or food moulded to look like shells, fish and the like. Riverside was even worse when he turned down into the wide street. It was packed with stalls and street sellers of all kinds and people milling around, many of them in festival colours—blue, silver, white and sea-green.
The second day of the festival was a more sober affair than the first night's parties, beach bonfires, and fireworks, but just as busy—half the people from the surrounding area came into Portcallan to cast their tokens into the water. Leion found himself hemmed in by crowds, all fighting to buy a handful of tokens, boasting of their first night escapades, or shoving street-wares into their mouths. Someone nearby, out of his vision, was singing loud enough to drown out the light strains of a children's choir from across the river.
Leion pressed on, making his way to Temple Bridge. After he had crossed it, he would be able to get off the main streets, away from everyone who didn't seem to care about what had nearly happened to Viyony last night. He didn't even feel like petitioning Shara. He ought to, he knew, but the thought made anger blaze within. What use were the Powers, if this was what happened to the people to whom they had the closest affinity? Let them take back all their strangeness and visions and dreams; their rifts and Paths and all the rest of it. If their influence still ran through this world, where was any sign of it last night?
He stopped and grasped the railings, staring at the River Calla below. Even there, people pushed up against him, and someone threw a wooden token over the side, only to lose it on the steep rocky incline.
"Burn and drown them all," muttered Leion.
Once he was over the bridge, he halted in a side street, not ready to go back to his office and sit there again, alone and useless. He walked in the opposite direction, without any idea of where he was going, but almost immediately, the Empty Temple loomed into sight—providing him with an answer to everything, the perfect way to escape all the Powers and the festival crowds.
Leion stepped into the Temple's high, echoing chambers, instantly enveloped in its comforting gloom. The old temple was built of dark grey stone and the occasional windows were narrow with grey and purple tinted panes. Cool air circulated gently by means of ancient, creaking and sighing ceiling fans. Leion walked slowly around the large main area in search of an unoccupied spot to sit and think.
It wasn't as quiet inside as he had imagined it would be. There were plenty of others taking the chance to visit the Temple while they were in the city, or who, like him, were at odds with the festival spirit. Some were obviously grieving a loss, wearing pale blues, purples, greens and greys, dark shades of the same colours, or more discreet mourning ribbons and sashes. Others wandered around, alone and in silence, without visible indication of what had brought them there.
Leion sat down in the first available space he found, settling himself on a large dark grey square paving stone, one of a chequered pattern of light grey and dark grey slabs. He pressed his back against the smooth stone wall, then breathed out and closed his eyes. Last night's events tumbled over in his mind—all the things and people he was so, so angry with right now. The Powers, for not organising this whole business better, Eollan obviously, Ossilian for waiting so long before getting help, Tana for not arresting Eollan ages ago, before he'd done anything to warrant it.
He tensed, and opened his eyes, staring at the nearest dark pillar, as he finally got to grips with the worst culprit: himself. What was anyone else's crimes to his? Why, why, had he been such an idiot last night? Why had he let Viyony go? Why hadn't he kept on looking until he found her? He had wasted so much time, first running around in circles, and then sitting about doing nothing at all. The memory sickened him.
The old dead-stone of the Temple seemed to absorb every bit of his rage, unmoved and unmarked by Leion's inner storms, as if he were merely a seabird batting feathered wings against the walls. Finally he shuddered and put his hand up to hide his face, turning in towards the wall—and wept quietly.
Afterwards, the chattering, rustling festival crowds didn't seem so heartless. He walked among them and this time saw how many bought tokens with anxious eyes fixed on the vendor, wanting to know which would be most efficacious. Token-wishes were supposed to be sure to come true in Portcallan's waters today. Leion didn't think it was really any more or less likely than any other day—Shara was either listening and minded to do something, or she wasn't. Or maybe, as Eollan had said, her only present existence was now in those with Sharan affinity, and there was no Shara to petition.
But Leion had grown up in Portcallan, and he was not immune to the superstition. He chose one wooden token, the best he could find. It had been carved to look like a starfish and cost several solers more than the usual sort. He picked it out from a pile of shell, raindrop, and fish shaped pieces, and paid the stallholder above what she asked.
Fingers curled tightly around the little wooden starfish, he made his way right down through the city, on to Lower Portcallan, where the crowds waiting to go in the sea or the river at the appointed spots should be less dense. Even so, once he reached the lower city, he still crept along in an untidy line for an hour and more, there long enough to pick up elquid in a plain wrap from a seller as he went achingly slowly past their stall. He had eaten it well before he finally reached the shingled shore.
There he waded into murky waves and released the little starfish, muttering aloud a fervent prayer for Viyony's recovery. The token floated for a few moments before he lost track of it in the motion of tides and other petitioners and a thousand other tokens bobbing about.
Half of them would only be washed back up again later, littering the beaches, but Leion nevertheless felt more optimistic now that he'd made his offering. He made his way out of the water, soaked trousers clinging and slapping around his legs as he navigated his way up the beach and back through the crowds, finally human enough again to face going home.
He turned back for one last look at the sea and the petitioners and then closed his eyes, silently making his request all over again, lips moving soundlessly: Shara, let Viyony live.
He opened his eyes and said aloud, to the land, the sky, the sea, to anyone and anything that might be listening: let her live—let her live—let her live!
Story: Starfall
Colors: Warm Heart #26 (Hatred); Azul 25 (No promise of salvation)
Supplies and Styles: Giftwrap
Word Count: 2960
Rating: PG
Warnings: Mentions of (fantasy) drug abuse.
Notes: 1313, Portcallan. Leion Valerno, Tana Veldiner, Eollan Barra, Ivina Gerro. Carries on from and your light can't guide me.
Summary: Leion is not in the mood for celebration.
Gathering 15
Leion sank down onto the steps outside the Zillence house. It was early, but the sun was already high enough to start warming the stones of the street, and he raised his face to its light. He'd left Viyony safely in the hands of her cousin Ivina, and he supposed he ought to be relieved about that and go home, but he couldn't quite yet, reliving the night over in his mind. If only—he should have got here sooner, done something more—not tried to pretend he was a medic, maybe made everything worse—he should have searched harder, never stopped, and, above all, never have said no to Viyony's proposition. He'd left some things at the borrowed apartment, in hope now proven unfounded. He'd have to remember to retrieve them before the week was out.
"Ha," he said under his breath, and put his head in his hands.
The door opened behind him, causing him to start and straighten up.
"Stop littering up the place," said Tana, poking him in the back with her foot before she navigated her exit round him. "Go, get some rest. Or do you need to throw yourself in the sea again?"
He looked up. "No. I just—I don't know." He kicked at a loose stone, then scooped it up in his hand, studying it vaguely for a moment before throwing it down. "What did Viyony run away for? If she'd stayed with me none of this would have happened! She must have known I didn't mean what I said. And going off with Eollan of all people—how could she?"
"Well, I'm sure this will teach her."
That brought him to a sharp stop. "Yes. Sorry. I didn't mean that, either. If I go home, will you let me strangle Eollan later?"
"No," said Tana, "but I do need you in my office first thing this afternoon, to give me a proper report on what happened."
"You want me to write a report now?"
Tana stifled a yawn. "Verbal will do—I'll have someone take it down for you. Go home, Leion. Get what sleep you can, and I'll see you after. That's an order!"
"Understood." Leion hauled himself up. "If anything happens with Viyony, you will send word?"
"I promise," said Tana.
Leion made his way down the street, feeling distinctly unalive, but that was usual for many revellers on the morning after the first night of Portcallan's Sea Festival, and none of the people milling around spared him a second glance. Once he got back to his flat above the office, he stretched himself out on the bed, tense, and scowling at the ceiling, not really expecting to sleep, but exhaustion won out in the end. He woke two or so hours later—about half an hour past the time Tana had asked him to be at High Chambers.
He sat up and swore.
Tana didn't even mention his lateness for once, and Leion duly dictated his report to her while a Chamber clerk sat nearby diligently jotting down every word. As soon as he had finished, he swivelled in his seat to face Tana.
"Well—where is he?"
Tana raised her head. She hesitated before giving an answer, but she didn't ask who Leion meant. "Locked up."
"I want to see him."
Tana put down her pen. "You aren't a permanent member of my staff, nor a Guardian of the Peace. And we don't want to do anything that will give them anything to use against us in court. You remember what happened last time."
"Yes, yes, and yes," said Leion. "Send someone in with me, that's fine, but I have questions I need to ask."
Tana eyed him for a long moment, twisting her pen between her fingers. Then she gave a small grimace and laid it down neatly on her desk. "Very well," she said. "But lay one finger on him, and I'll arrest you too!"
Eollan Barra was lying on the bench in one of the Chamber's holding cells with his arms behind his head. It might even be the same one they had shut Viyony in months ago. Leion found it hard to tell. They all looked alike. Eollan looked up slowly as the door creaked open and brushed his fine light brown hair back from his face without much effect, then tugged his shirt straight. The cell smelled of stringent cleaning fluids with a faint echo of urine and vomit. Leion wrinkled his nose as he followed Tana inside.
Eollan watched them. "How is she?"
A tremor passed through Leion. He had to freeze on the spot before all his good intentions deserted him.
"Alive," said Tana. "For the moment."
Eollan rubbed the side of his head. "I swear, I don't know why she was so strongly affected. I had no intention -"
Leion turned right round and exited the cell. He pressed himself against the other side of the wall, trembling with hot rage, heart pounding against his ribcage. He closed his eyes. He wasn't going to screw up a second case against a Barra who deserved to rot in prison.
He shook himself, took a deep breath, and went back inside the cell to hear Eollan still making excuses:
"I wasn't trying to hurt anyone! People must make use of these gifts, that's all—to honour the legacy of the Powers—if we don't, we're going to pay for it. Perhaps we already are. There are warnings going unheeded. Nobody cares! And look at Viyony – all that potential, that power, going to waste -"
Leion snorted; he couldn't help it.
Eollan raised his head. "Oh, what do you know?"
"More than you when it comes to messing about with affinity!" said Leion. "I can't—I won't speak to you about that. Whatever happened, whatever you meant—there is no way in this world or any other that Viyony agreed to take that stuff, so you must have forced it on her. And that -" He put up a hand. "Stars. Meant no harm!"
Eollan narrowed his gaze. "Well, she ran away from you, Valerno."
"If neither of you have anything useful to say," interjected Tana, her tone lowering the temperature in the cell by several degrees, "we'll leave."
Leion forced his anger back down. "Sorry, Tana. It's just this piece of sea shit -"
"Trying to help the country—the world, maybe, even -" Eollan muttered.
Leion moved a step nearer. "You did a test with the substance before, didn't you? On Calla Island. How?"
"What?" Eollan widened his eyes, and then stifled a short, humourless laugh. "Oh. I thought you worked it out. Wasn't that why you two went back into the cave?"
Leion couldn't answer: the memory of exploring the shrine with Viyony; emptying out the trapped tokens from the bottom of an old well, washed back over him, and it was almost too much. It would never happen again—the two of them running around, trying to work out the truth in her dreams, to make things right. She might be dying as he stood here. Even if she wasn't, Imoren would be here long before she'd fully recovered, and that would be the end of everything.
"No," Leion said eventually. "We were doing something quite different. You talk about affinity but you don't understand them at all. Visions, dreams, they come with obligations."
Eollan sagged back against the cell's wall. "Work it out for yourself."
"Are you sure I can't murder him even a little?" Leion asked Tana, then halted, running a hand through his hair. "It was something down in the cave, then? But it couldn't possibly be the starstone alone—so... you put it on something she touched?"
Eollan shrugged. "There was an altar for the Empty places, the Other Power. I coated the artefact inside it and encouraged Viyony to pick it up. I can't believe you didn't realise."
"No," said Leion.
Eollan winced, squinting against the light. "I assumed she'd ingested some—licked her fingers or whatever. I didn't realise that was all it took to have her seeing visions. I'd have got the dosage right yesterday, if I had."
Tana grabbed Leion's arm in warning, but there was no need. He merely spat out a sound of disgust and stormed out of the cell. She followed a few moments after, and the guard moved across to shut the door behind them with a final thud.
"Was it worth it?" asked Tana as they emerged out of the building into bright sunlight and a wave of afternoon heat.
Leion looked at her. "Maybe."
Yesterday felt like a nightmare. Eollan in custody, pale and unkempt, put some reality back into it all. He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good thing; being rather as unpleasant and sobering as most morning after awakenings.
"I'm curious, I admit," Tana said, frowning into the distance. "What he said about warnings going unheeded."
"Superstitious Northern rot," muttered Leion, not in the mood for conceding ground to someone who had almost murdered Viyony, maybe even had. "Turned his head. Or perhaps that was the drugs. Military life. Who knows, who cares? I'm going to find out how she is."
Tana waved him off. "They won't let you in at the hospital—go to the Gerros's house."
Ivina met him at the door. She had returned home to rest for a few hours, the family taking vigil at the hospital in shifts. "No news," she told him. "Viyony is still with us, but they're keeping her as quiet as possible." She placed a hand on his arm. "We will tell you if anything changes."
"Yes. Of course," said Leion. "I am sorry. You must blame me—for leaving her."
Ivina raised her eyebrows. "Must I? It would have been better if you had stayed with her, I'm sure. But Viyony is a fully grown adult with very decided ideas of her own. And you saved her life."
"Don't say that," he said. "The medics saved her. I just—did what I could."
Ivina drew back. "Have it as you please."
"Is there anything else I can do?" he asked.
She shook her head. "No, but thank you. Let us hope for the best. We'll all be casting a token in the water for Viyony later."
Tokens seemed to be on everybody's mind. Leion dawdled along the road, dragging his feet, trying to think of something he could do for Viyony, and every few lengths or less someone was selling shell-shaped starstone, cheap wooden carvings, paper sea creatures, or food moulded to look like shells, fish and the like. Riverside was even worse when he turned down into the wide street. It was packed with stalls and street sellers of all kinds and people milling around, many of them in festival colours—blue, silver, white and sea-green.
The second day of the festival was a more sober affair than the first night's parties, beach bonfires, and fireworks, but just as busy—half the people from the surrounding area came into Portcallan to cast their tokens into the water. Leion found himself hemmed in by crowds, all fighting to buy a handful of tokens, boasting of their first night escapades, or shoving street-wares into their mouths. Someone nearby, out of his vision, was singing loud enough to drown out the light strains of a children's choir from across the river.
Leion pressed on, making his way to Temple Bridge. After he had crossed it, he would be able to get off the main streets, away from everyone who didn't seem to care about what had nearly happened to Viyony last night. He didn't even feel like petitioning Shara. He ought to, he knew, but the thought made anger blaze within. What use were the Powers, if this was what happened to the people to whom they had the closest affinity? Let them take back all their strangeness and visions and dreams; their rifts and Paths and all the rest of it. If their influence still ran through this world, where was any sign of it last night?
He stopped and grasped the railings, staring at the River Calla below. Even there, people pushed up against him, and someone threw a wooden token over the side, only to lose it on the steep rocky incline.
"Burn and drown them all," muttered Leion.
Once he was over the bridge, he halted in a side street, not ready to go back to his office and sit there again, alone and useless. He walked in the opposite direction, without any idea of where he was going, but almost immediately, the Empty Temple loomed into sight—providing him with an answer to everything, the perfect way to escape all the Powers and the festival crowds.
Leion stepped into the Temple's high, echoing chambers, instantly enveloped in its comforting gloom. The old temple was built of dark grey stone and the occasional windows were narrow with grey and purple tinted panes. Cool air circulated gently by means of ancient, creaking and sighing ceiling fans. Leion walked slowly around the large main area in search of an unoccupied spot to sit and think.
It wasn't as quiet inside as he had imagined it would be. There were plenty of others taking the chance to visit the Temple while they were in the city, or who, like him, were at odds with the festival spirit. Some were obviously grieving a loss, wearing pale blues, purples, greens and greys, dark shades of the same colours, or more discreet mourning ribbons and sashes. Others wandered around, alone and in silence, without visible indication of what had brought them there.
Leion sat down in the first available space he found, settling himself on a large dark grey square paving stone, one of a chequered pattern of light grey and dark grey slabs. He pressed his back against the smooth stone wall, then breathed out and closed his eyes. Last night's events tumbled over in his mind—all the things and people he was so, so angry with right now. The Powers, for not organising this whole business better, Eollan obviously, Ossilian for waiting so long before getting help, Tana for not arresting Eollan ages ago, before he'd done anything to warrant it.
He tensed, and opened his eyes, staring at the nearest dark pillar, as he finally got to grips with the worst culprit: himself. What was anyone else's crimes to his? Why, why, had he been such an idiot last night? Why had he let Viyony go? Why hadn't he kept on looking until he found her? He had wasted so much time, first running around in circles, and then sitting about doing nothing at all. The memory sickened him.
The old dead-stone of the Temple seemed to absorb every bit of his rage, unmoved and unmarked by Leion's inner storms, as if he were merely a seabird batting feathered wings against the walls. Finally he shuddered and put his hand up to hide his face, turning in towards the wall—and wept quietly.
Afterwards, the chattering, rustling festival crowds didn't seem so heartless. He walked among them and this time saw how many bought tokens with anxious eyes fixed on the vendor, wanting to know which would be most efficacious. Token-wishes were supposed to be sure to come true in Portcallan's waters today. Leion didn't think it was really any more or less likely than any other day—Shara was either listening and minded to do something, or she wasn't. Or maybe, as Eollan had said, her only present existence was now in those with Sharan affinity, and there was no Shara to petition.
But Leion had grown up in Portcallan, and he was not immune to the superstition. He chose one wooden token, the best he could find. It had been carved to look like a starfish and cost several solers more than the usual sort. He picked it out from a pile of shell, raindrop, and fish shaped pieces, and paid the stallholder above what she asked.
Fingers curled tightly around the little wooden starfish, he made his way right down through the city, on to Lower Portcallan, where the crowds waiting to go in the sea or the river at the appointed spots should be less dense. Even so, once he reached the lower city, he still crept along in an untidy line for an hour and more, there long enough to pick up elquid in a plain wrap from a seller as he went achingly slowly past their stall. He had eaten it well before he finally reached the shingled shore.
There he waded into murky waves and released the little starfish, muttering aloud a fervent prayer for Viyony's recovery. The token floated for a few moments before he lost track of it in the motion of tides and other petitioners and a thousand other tokens bobbing about.
Half of them would only be washed back up again later, littering the beaches, but Leion nevertheless felt more optimistic now that he'd made his offering. He made his way out of the water, soaked trousers clinging and slapping around his legs as he navigated his way up the beach and back through the crowds, finally human enough again to face going home.
He turned back for one last look at the sea and the petitioners and then closed his eyes, silently making his request all over again, lips moving soundlessly: Shara, let Viyony live.
He opened his eyes and said aloud, to the land, the sky, the sea, to anyone and anything that might be listening: let her live—let her live—let her live!