The Mage Emperor Dregin

Chapter 28

The season was late autumn approaching winter. Sky tundra blue, sun burning weak, graying clouds skittered across the bluish void. A morning chill breezed frostily through yellow, gold, orange, and red leaves of black-stemmed trees. Most had fallen rotten into brown on sludge in the grounds. Rains had indulged often. Still the leaves fell. She watched them fall, each diamond-shaped wonder drifting and gliding to the soft earth. Behind her, voices murmured amid the thud of stokes, crackles of fired wood, clapping feet, and the grinding sound of a spit's axle. They had put her to work churning butter. Their ways were different, but she complied to everything they taught her, except speaking. She wore their clothes, ate their food sitting at the same table, tended and gathered their crops alongside with them, and even looked after their children. Standing here outside the door arms absently pumping away the elongated trapezoid barrel with her stick, she felt relieved to have been given the job. Awoken before dawn, churning until the morning brightened under a cold sun. No one disturbed her.

The wool short coat over the plant silk woven blouse let the cold penetrate through her skin. Her layered skirt was plain brown almost matching the ground she stood on. Hair braided into a side tail with lavender and light blue ribbons correlated around it hung to her hips. Pink feathers were pinned over her crown near the ear on the tail-less side. All of the women wore their hair down, but they chose the ornaments for her. Theyra and Hu'Lani. She adapted well with their customs, being mute and obliged to their requests. A hemmed cough interrupted. She turned, seeing a young woman posing a folded hand to her mouth. Black-haired and obsidian-eyed, she was just another face of the people. But recognition was acknowledgeable. Her name was Aria. She had feathers in her hair, too. They were purple.

"Uh, are you done? We need the butter," she uttered, gesturing at the churn.

The woman churning the butter ceased and stepped away as if surrendering the equipment to the questioner. Aria came forward. She lifted the spin axle inspecting the texture of yellow curd on it. She eyed the grey-eyed woman, but snatched her eyes away when caught in the act of staring. It was only out of curiosity that she had looked. After a moment's thought, however, she cleared her throat.

"Um, I'm sorry," she said keeping her eyes on the stick. "I-um-didn't mean to look at you like that. It is good that you helped, Zante." She dared to look at the woman who gazed at the ground. "I know. You don't talk. And you don't smile either." Still, the other made no attempt to reply. Aria gave up. She dragged the churn into the house.

The remaining soul stood for a moment. She sighed, then walked to the well a few strides from the side of the house. Her hand rested on the coiled rope on the bar that stood on two poles planted through the stone-built rim. Head drooping slightly, she stood a while longer before relenting to sit on the rim.

"They call you Zante for a reason, you know." Hu'Lani's voice made her shoulders jerk. The bronze-haired head fell, tilted on the side as if toward the voice, but could not face the speaker and turned forward again. "It means 'silience' in our ancient tongue.... All right, have it your way. We are a tolerant people, Zante. You have life, we have time." Hu'Lani had come close and she walked around to be in front of the woman. "I don't know what it is you are holding onto. A memory? A mourning? Whatever it is, regardless." She shook her head as she spoke. "If you hang yourself with it too long, you'll sooner exhale before you breath. Do you hear what I mean?....I know you understood every word." Deep black eyes met grey ones. They were sincere, perhaps a bit too honest with those words. She reached forward to touch the hand on the pole. Immediately, it withdrew to the owner's chest.

Zante had darkened. All shadow had taken her. Though she had been leaning on the opposite pole, now her total body fell toward it, her hand lost its grip. Her arms came together crossing over her body. The face had looked to the side. Breezes blew pass them as if they segregate like a river to two worlds.