Chapter Two #3
The clinic was closer to the path, in the most modern building on the estate. Through the front window, I saw Ravi sitting at a desk with Marina in the chair before him, gesturing wildly,
“Ravi treats everyone.” Julian watched the doctor a moment before continuing. “Human or myth, it doesn't matter. He documents remedies that myths share with him.”
“I assumed the myths were immortal.”
“Immortal doesn't mean invulnerable. They can still get hurt. They usually heal fast, but sometimes they need a little help. Last month Ravi performed surgery on a dragon who had cut its foot open on some train tracks.”
“How do you perform surgery on a dragon?”
“Very carefully.” He winked at me.
As I looked away, a stone structure up ahead caught my eye.
I would have called it a cottage, but it looked too strange, sticking out in all directions as if the builder didn't have a plan but stuck on rooms randomly.
Smoke billowed out of an open window at the front of the building.
Purple smoke that smelled sweet, like burnt sugar and roses.
An old woman emerged from the workshop, waving her arms to dispel the smoke.
Her ruffled skirt had a colorful scarf draped over it.
Combined with her full blouse, it gave her the look of a carnival fortune teller.
Wild white hair frothed around her weathered face, her brown skin wrinkled, but her black eyes were as sharp as broken glass.
The charms hanging from her many necklaces clicked together as she came to a stop and noticed me. Her gaze went from my face to my hands to my feet and back again. Then she sniffed in my direction.
“Hmm.” She narrowed her eyes. “Too much caffeine. Not enough sleep.” Then she stalked back into the building, now cleared of smoke.
I looked at Julian. “Should I be worried?”
“Only if she compliments you.” He motioned me forward. “That's Baba Yara. She's a witch. Never confuse her with Baba Yaga. She'll get offended, and you do not want to offend her.”
“Is she a myth?”
“We don't classify witches as myths since it's more of a skill than a race.
Anyone can become a witch. There are witch families who pass their knowledge down to their children, and that's where people get confused and think witches are a race.
Some people are born with more aptitude for the magical arts than others, but that doesn't make them a separate race.
That being said, I can't tell you if she's human.” Julian shrugged.
“Baba Yara is Baba Yara. That's all anyone needs to know.”
We continued walking, passing more workshops, a small chapel where I heard someone singing, and then three, two-story buildings that stretched back from the path.
“Those are the apartments for guests and single Velascans.” Julian motioned at them. “Your apartment is in building three.”
Before we reached the last building beside the path, Julian stepped off the main path and onto a grassy path that led into the central garden.
Instantly, I felt calmer and breathed deeply of the floral air.
We strolled past beds of red roses, peonies the size of a baby's head, and stalks of frothy lavender as we made our way to the low hill at the center.
Julian led me up the hill to the oak tree.
The closer we got, the more certain I was that this was Velas's oak.
It looked as if it had been growing since the world began, its trunk wider than a car and its branches spreading like a cathedral ceiling.
Its bark had a silver-gray tint and was deeply furrowed, and the leaves were impossibly green and glossy.
“This is Velas's Oak.” Julian cast his gaze down. “This is where Caelum buried his lover. It is the heart of the Velasca.”
“I assumed it was that oak. It's a magnificent tree.”
“Caelum tends it.” Julian looked up into the branches. “He says Velas is still here. Still watching over him.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I've been with the Velasca for a long time.” He looked back at me. “There isn't much I don't believe in.”
We stood there for a moment longer, looking at the tree.
It felt like an induction. As if I had to meet Velas before I became part of the Velasca.
If the perfection of the tree was any indication, Velas was indeed still around.
Or perhaps his body was simply excellent fertilizer.
I hoped it was the former, that Velas was still watching over his lover, proud of all Caelum had accomplished.
Julian turned away from the oak and led me back down the hill toward the last building.
It was the one I'd seen to the right of the main hall when I arrived.
Now, it was to the left. Four stories tall and made of massive blocks of gray stone, it had the feel of a castle, something made to protect what lay within.
Its arched windows and peaked roof, covered in black slate, added to the royal feel.
It loomed above me with the gravitas of something that had stood for centuries.
“And this is the Great Archive.” Julian's voice held a tone of reverence. “Velas's oak is the heart of the Velasca, but this is our soul.” He led me into the soul of the Velasca.