A Brief Respite

Saga awoke in her own bed for the first time in what felt like years. Every muscle in her body ached, and she found herself unable—or unwilling—to extricate herself from her blankets, instead pulling them tighter around herself to defend against the morning chill. The sun peeked through her curtains, though she thought from the angle that the day was still young enough that she could hear birdsong.

“Dapper?” she whispered, not wanting to alert her family that she was awake yet.

The beatweaver appeared on her chest, looking down at her with an unreadable expression, and asked her if she was alright.

She smiled, stroking him gently. “I’m okay as I can be. Did you get any sleep?”

He replied in the affirmative, and told her he’d also already had breakfast, then wondered why she wasn’t getting up. He was as smart as some humans, she mused, but he sometimes failed to grasp emotional concepts like grief.

“The funeral is tonight,” she said, “and I don’t know what to do before then, or what path to choose after.” She wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him, or to herself, but he chittered softly as she stroked him, so she continued. “It seems everyone thinks I can do this job but me. Do I trust their judgement, take the plunge and hope I have what it takes? Or do I play it safe, take the fogleaf and go on as a normal bard, like none of this ever happened? What about that enemy they keep talking about? If someone doesn’t do something about it, what will happen to the city? To Chorana? Does it matter if I can’t do anything about it? Even if I become a Keeper, will it be my responsibility? Or will they plant me in some village somewhere and send someone more capable?”

Gem’s face flashed across her mind, then the dead eyes of Master Dorrin, and she squeezed her eyes shut to banish the image. “I don’t know what to do, Dapper…”

“You can start,” came Miss Lessa’s voice from behind the closed door, “by getting up and dressed. You’ve a busy day ahead of you.”

Saga squeaked, despite herself, and shot an angry glare at the unseen housewoman. “It’s not until tonight, Miss Lessa.”

The woman’s snort was loud enough to hear from the hall. “If you think I’m going to let you spend the entire day in bed when you have people to see, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m coming in.”

Saga didn’t bother covering herself as the woman entered. Even if she hadn’t been dressed in her nightclothes, Miss Lessa had practically raised her. It was hard to be bashful around her. “Is something happening?”

Miss Lessa bustled across the room, throwing open the curtains to fill the room with a bright light, and began to rummage through Saga’s wardrobe. The light blinded Saga for a moment, and Miss Lessa spoke as her eyes adjusted. “Master Jocara has called for you at your earliest convenience.” She glanced at Saga, then brought out a change of clothes for her. Rather than her favorite coat and hat, Saga was presented with a formal red waistcoat, a cream-colored blouse, and a black floor-length skirt.

Saga eyed the skirt distastefully. “I can’t move in that. What if I want to run, or train?”

“There’ll be none of that,” the older woman said with a frown. “You’ve worn yourself half to death this past week. You’re to rest today. Before you go to complain to your parents, they agree with my decision.”

Saga opened her mouth to argue, then closed it a click of her teeth. When Miss Lessa thought she was acting in your best interest, there was no dissuading her. She sighed, resigned, and finally removed herself from her sheets and made her bed. Dapper hopped away as soon as she moved, resting in the warm sunlight at the windowsill. “Did Master Jocara say what she needs me for?” Saga hadn’t seen her magic instructor in weeks. Her lessons with the mage had been on standby in light of the journeyman trials and the preparation they needed.

Miss Lessa shook her head, and when Saga moved to grab the clothes, she held a hand up to stop her. “Not yet, Saga. You look like death. Understandable, but you should at least wash up before you meet her.”

Saga grimaced. She’d been so tired the night before that she’d gone straight to bed after changing. She looked back at her sheets, realizing they were probably filthy, and turned back to Miss Lessa with an apologetic smile. “I think I’ll do that.”

Miss Lessa smiled and gave her a shooing gesture. “Go on, go on, your clothes will be safe until you return. There’s still breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”

“That would be lovely, Lessa,” Saga called over her shoulder, having already begun to disrobe on her way to the connected washroom. “Thank you.” She returned the woman’s beaming smile before closing the washroom door behind her.

The room was both humid and completely dark, save for a lantern of frosted glass resting on a table. The glass was illuminated from within, but just enough to light up without any light spilling out into the room. She found herself automatically looking away from it. It was silly, all these years later she still couldn’t look directly at a redlight. You can’t see it, she reminded herself, it’s covered. You’ve done this a thousand times, it’ll be okay.

“Wake up, please,” she said aloud, keeping her tone as neutral as possible.

The light immediately brightened, and Saga was glad for the color-correcting glass that turned it from a vibrant red to a soft white glow. Her bathtub stood waiting for her, with a spout coming out of the wall and a hollow tube next to it. She turned the valve on the spout and felt the water as it poured into the bath. Barely lukewarm. Her brother had likely used the heater last and lowered the temperature. She frowned in annoyance as she turned to the hollow tube. “Hotter, please.”

After a moment, she felt the water grow much hotter. That’s better. Not wasting a moment, she finished disrobing and sank into the water, feeling some of the stress and pain of the past week seem to seep from her pores. I needed this, she thought. Healing magic is nice, but it can’t fix everything.

She heard a chitter a moment before Dapper appeared on the edge of the tub, and she grinned at him. “I think you’re overdue for a bath yourself, little jerk.” He replied by tapping something rude to her, then gingerly touched the water before jerking his leg back and jumping up to the stool next to the tub. As she watched, he pushed the rinsing cup sitting there into the water, positioned himself carefully—he was so cute when he wiggled his butt that way—and jumped into it. He was almost to big for the cup, but his weight helped it to float upright.

Saga giggled at the sight and nudged the cup away from her, watching him paddle his way closer to her again. “I’m going to need that cup back eventually,” she said, then reached to twist the valve and turn off the flow of water.

The next few minutes were spent in steamy bliss as she used the soap to clean herself of the sweat and grime of her travels, then unraveled her braid and let it soak in the water before washing it as well, making sure to set Epic’s charm safely aside. As she’d warned him, she eventually reclaimed Dapper’s boat and rinsed her hair with it before piling it on top of her head and simply relaxing in the water. She wanted to spend the rest of the day in the warm water, but she could already feel it starting to cool, and she knew Miss Lessa would be coming to check on her soon.

A short while later, Saga walked into the kitchen, fully dressed in the outfit Miss Lessa had set out for her but her hair still wrapped in a towel. Alder looked up as she entered, giving her a smile before returning to his work. “Good morning, Saga. Breakfast is still warm.” He pointed an elbow down the counter at a plate with eggs, fruit, and a roll.

“Thanks,” she replied, taking the plate. “Where’s Miss Lessa?”

The cook shrugged. “Dunno. You know her, always busy.”

“I suppose that’s fair.” She’d wanted to ask the older woman to braid her hair again, but she supposed she could just wear it down for a day. Instead, she sat at a side table and ate quickly, planning out her day. She’d have to go see what Master Jocara wanted…she blinked. She could’ve sworn there was more to do today, but all she could think of was seeing her teacher and going to the ceremony. By tradition, that would be at nightfall, and after that, she’d have to make her decision.

“Great,” she muttered, “I get to attend a lecture and spend the rest of my day stressed and depressed.” Her mood soured at the thought, but she shook it off. With breakfast finished, it was time to leave. She went back upstairs, brushed out her hair, donned her hat, and departed.

On her way to the Menders’ Sanctum, she heard a crier spreading the day’s news.

“A master bard has died by the sword,

Dorrin is missed, loved and adored.

Bandits vile have taken his life,

He leaves behind a daughter, no wife.”