UNGLOVED

Chapter Two (revised)

It was mid afternoon as Liriel wandered back toward her apartment in the Grand Palace; full of warming sunshine and blue sky. Lake Gerlamaine spread out like a sheet of smooth glass for leagues to the East. Her path traced the lake and was skirted by rows of bright green vegetation. She smiled at the smell of spring in the air, on the wind and in the sunshine.

As she made her way, she couldn't help but feel uplifted by the brilliance reflected on the waters, in spite of the irritations of her morning shift. Upon the level plain of the lake's mirrored surface lay a multitude of rectangular patches in many shades of green. They were the Fallani, the floating gardens upon which were grown the food crops essential to the people of the city. 

These were tended by the Falloran, who were the maru trained gardeners of these floating fields. Working all day in the sun, they measured the quality of the soil, its composition, moistness and the integrity of the islands of soil. They monitored the health of the crops they planted with their bare hands laid upon the soil, reaching out with their minds through their sensitive fingers, feeling their plants growing, moment by moment, coaxing them to flourish with their thoughts and maru. It was much like her own profession of healing, Liriel reflected, and the floating patches were like the patients she cared for.

This had been the art that her Father had learned in his youth. It was hard to imagine him wearing the sage green robes of the Falloran. The thought made her grin. She'd never seen him wear that colour, but it was no more difficult than imagining him wearing the taupe robes of the Talunar, the maru trained miners or the steel gray of the Paracha, the warriors who fought with maru. The Marulan, her order, wore silver from head to toe, including a veil, for anonymity, though when she wasn't in the College working, she lifted her veil back over her hair. Everyone in Kalad wore the robes of their order, and everyone had an order. Everyone, except her father, who was King.

Up ahead, she saw the tall form of her sister, Selana, heading in her direction. Liriel wished she had chosen a different path.

"Greetings, sister. Are you done for the day?" Selana always began politely.

"Yes. It was busy in the infirmary today." She looked over her sister's shoulder, thinking about finding her brother.

"Valran is back," said Selana.

"I heard, and he has some captives too."

"Those filthy Mundatar. I'd stay away until they've been put into the prison." Selana lifted Liriel's chin with a finger to gaze into her eyes. "I wouldn't want you to be tainted by their ugliness, sweet little sister. You are too pretty for their eyes to gaze upon."

Liriel reddened. As always, Selana managed to make her feel like a child.

The wind picked up. Liriel smoothed her robe. She looked up into her sister's stern face. She despised Selana's traditional perspective. She refused to follow her sister's directions. "I want to see him as soon as possible. Where can I find him?"

Selana shook her head. "Always so stubborn, Liri. I should have told you to run directly to him and you would have done the opposite, just to spite me." 

"Think what you wish, Selana, but I listen to my own heart and follow my own counsel. You should know that by now." Their conversations always ended the same way.

For a moment the air between them thickened with tension. Selana gave in first, rolling her eyes and throwing up her arms. "He's down on the field with his unit and the prisoners. Enjoy the ugliness of war all you like, sister." 

Selana gripped her dress to hike it above her ankles, focused on the path behind Liriel, and continued on her way, leaving Liriel to reflect. She knew plenty of the ugliness of war from her work. She was hardened to it as was necessary, but more and more she saw what a waste it was. So many lives ruined from injury, so many died, and the Marulan worked so hard to keep things together while more and more injured arrived everyday.