8. Risking a Few Lives for the Perfect Dessert #4
Isabel looks delighted by the question. “Well, for the Angelicoclea specifically, I named it myself. But some of the information I’ve collected on all of my creatures is from scholars in the Shire of Aelestis. Its capital city, Santus Lucentia, draws many great minds.”
Sapphira’s brows meet. “If they’re already studying all of this stuff, then why do you do it?” she asks.
A soft smile turns Isabel’s lips. Her eyes lay unfocused on her journal, one finger tracing the yellowed pages.
“For one, we don’t have many scholars here in Cielo, and even fewer who are willing to get out in the field like I am.
Not that I’m a scholar,” she rushes to add, her cheeks darkening in embarrassment.
“Or that I think I’m better than them. No, no, I could never.
They’re geniuses. But the Athenaeum has information on so many things, and yet so little at the same time.
” Her eyes stray back to the angel snail, still munching away on the soft, meaty fruit.
“The Highbren don’t find much interest or importance in studying things like this.
But my mother . . . She did.” Her face takes on a wistful look. “And I got my love of nature from her.”
Sapphira is quiet for a moment, trying to gather her flustered and indignant thoughts. “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice coming out harsher than intended. “Did you just say that you’re not smart enough to be a scholar?”
Isabel startles, appearing confused by Sapphira’s question.
“You are the smartest person I have ever met. And I have met some of the most distinguished people. Yet they hold no candles to you.”
Blushing, Isabel stutters, “While I appreciate that, I assure you, the Highbren are smarter.”
“Yeah, and what qualifications do they have that you do not?”
“For one, they’re highborn.”
“So?”
“So,” Isabel continues. “You can’t be Highbren unless you were born a high lord or high lady.”
Sapphira blanches at that, anger rising within her. What kind of stupid— She takes a deep breath, shaking off the burning rage. Then she says, “That is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
Isabel only laughs it off. “It’s fine. I’m okay with it. If I were a Highbren, I wouldn’t have time to come out here and do things like this.” She waves her charcoal stick.
Swallowing back her thoughts on the unfairness of Isabel’s lot, Sapphira comes back to stand beside her. “A lot of the spaces are still blank,” Sapphira observes, pointing at the book. “Is the angel snail a hard study?”
Isabel kneels beside the angel snail as it slowly descends down the side of the golden coconut and trails along the jungle floor.
“They are most active at night, so getting much data on them is difficult. And their number is small. Since they were created for a much larger environment that can handle a larger population, their reproduction adapted to this change as well.”
Isabel hums, watching as the snail’s antennae shudder and twitch, then she begins writing down her observations.
Pulling out a vial, she collects some of the snail’s viscous slime, and Sapphira decides it’s better not to ask her what it’s for.
This close, she can smell the pungent musk the creature is exuding, and she leans back.
They’re used to colder, darker climates,” Isabel says, almost to herself. “I need to get out here at night so I can get more data.”
They kneel there for a long time as Isabel continues to make notes, rattling off a bunch of angel snail facts.
Sapphira listens, learning how they primarily feed on the fleshy parts of the mangpiut coconut — a spongier, sweeter coconut.
The snail uses its radula, a tongue-like organ with tiny teeth, to break down and consume the coconut’s sweet meat.
The sun has gotten low, just barely peeking over the tall, tangled jungle brush, and Isabel now lies in the grass beside her subject with her head resting on her arms. Then she jumps up, startling Sapphira, who is knocked from the edge of sleep.
Sweat drips down Sapphira’s temples, and the warmth has been lulling her to slumber.
She shakes herself, sitting up against the tree to check on Isabel.
“Look!” the chimera squeals, “it’s a second Angelicoclea cocoivora .”
“And that’s a good thing?” Sapphira asks, rubbing sleep from her eyes. The moss beneath her is spongy and warm, and she misses it when she departs that warm cocoon and settles beside Isabel.
“I’ve never seen two of them together before,” Isabel says. “This is so cool.” She grabs her journal and charcoal from the grass, then tips forward on her knees to watch the interaction. Sapphira never thought recording and collecting data on plants and animals would be such slow work.
Isabel’s excited noises grow as the two mollusks interact, and she gasps when the first snail begins to glow, the golden threads on its shell pulsating and shifting in patterns.
“I— I think it’s trying to attract a mate,” she whispers in a harsh, excited tone, her eyes bulging from her head. She catches her lip between her teeth, worrying the flesh. And her fingers are tight around the stick of charcoal like she is scared to miss a moment of this interaction.
Isabel watches with wonder, and Sapphira watches in horror as the snails begin to mate. When they finally crawl away to hide, Isabel begins to furiously record everything she witnessed.
Sapphira is still in shock as they depart from the clearing, her cheeks flushed.
When they reach a mango tree, she reaches up to pluck two fruits from a branch and hands one to Isabel.
They eat as they walk in the shade under the trees, and Isabel shows her how to crack a mangpiut over a rock.
They drink the coconut juice and share the fleshy white meat.
Feeling more refreshed from the food, Sapphira asks Isabel questions about life in Bastama.
She still hasn’t seen much of it, besides the forests and jungles.
She’s itching to explore, but the thought of meeting anyone else in this strange new land quells that curiosity.
The last time she wished for that, it ended poorly, and the first friends she made outside the castle nearly got her killed.
“So, there are no kings or queens?” Sapphira asks, kicking a round, squishy mushroom that jiggles as it bounces away with a rippling boing .
Isabel shakes her head, careful as she steps over the wild foliage, her staff catching on vines.
She kicks them away. “No, there are no rulers in Cielo like there are in the Oshmaliaen?s Dominion. Cielo has the high lords and ladies, and there are the shiremasters who are higher than even them. They take care of the needs of the people.”
“And the highborns?”
“They . . . enjoy their wealth.”
Sapphira scoffs.
Isabel has a few more things to see before they head home, though none of them take as long as the angel snail did. The coolest thing Sapphira sees is a land squid. It has eight tentacle roots that burrow in the ground, and only the bulbous head is visible.
Isabel is proud to show it off, like it’s her pride and joy. She kneels beside it and says, “They’re Terrasquida floravegeta . They burrow to find water when found in hot, dry places. They migrate year-round and grow bigger as they find more water. They need a lot of it and can grow quite big.
She motions toward the sac. “The water found inside is great for curing dehydration and headaches caused by overconsumption of firewater, and the legs, or roots, are common ingredients in many medicinal potions.”
Isabel begins to run her long, dainty fingers across the head, and Sapphira’s mouth goes dry. “You have to tickle it to release the suction,” she says.
Sapphira crouches beside Isabel, the knees of her dress stained with grass and dirt as they kneel at opposite sides of the root. Their faces are dangerously close as they lean over it. Isabel’s curls fall in her face, the fading sun shining on her just right.
Sapphira wants to move in even closer, but she holds herself back. I can’t get used to this , she thinks. I’ll be going home soon.
“Ah-ha!” Isabel shouts, pulling Sapphira from her thoughts. “Did you hear that pop?”
Sapphira didn’t. She was too distracted by the way the light hit Isabel’s cheeks.
Isabel slowly wiggles the creature from the ground, dirt clinging to the tentacles’ suction cups as they writhe, searching for the earth.
“This one wasn’t very far in. See how short these roots are?” Isabel grabs one of them and stretches it. “The head is full of water, but it’s young and new to the area, so it hasn’t had much time to burrow.”
She pinches the legs together, wraps the squid in cloth to keep it still, and then places it in the woven bag across her shoulders.
“This is just what I’ll need for the potion I was working on.
You have to be careful and gentle with them.
If they feel threatened, they might attack.
They’ll suction to your face and drain all of the water from your body. ”
Sapphira grimaces at the mental image Isabel paints, thinking, Nature is frightening.
Then she says, “You’re so good at all of this.
” Sapphira stands, dusting herself off. She cringes at the stains marring both her dress and Isabel’s.
The other woman’s hair is also a mess, but it’s no less beautiful.
“Is it your ability that allows you to connect so well with these creatures?”
Isabel freezes, and Sapphira feels like she said the wrong thing.
Isabel is shaking. The chimera’s eyes widen in fear. “H-how—”
“Was I not supposed to know?” Sapphira asks, confused by this response. “Because it was fairly obvious after living a short time with you.”
Isabel hangs her head, and Sapphira doesn’t understand why this is such a big deal.
“Please, keep quiet,” Isabel begs, wringing her hands as her big, wide eyes search Sapphira’s for a promise. “I’m not supposed to— Well, no one is supposed to know.”
Sapphira tilts her head. She hadn’t realized it was meant to be a secret.
Surely no one was naive enough to believe Isabel was as good a healer as she is on pure skill alone.
Back home, I had the best healers, and none of them came close to Isabel.
It’s like she always knows exactly what is wrong with you.
It’s a skill that both fascinates and frightens me. She can worm her way into parts of me that no one ever has.
“Your magic is beautiful. Why wouldn’t you want people to know?” Sapphira asks. She remembers back to when they met and she accused Isabel of being a witch. The woman said she wasn’t a bruja and got upset at Sapphira for even insinuating such a thing.
“Please, Sapphira,” Isabel says. “It’s difficult to explain, but . . . Well, my ability isn’t of the Sand Isles, okay? And I promised my mother I wouldn’t tell a soul. She made me swear it.” Her face is serious and earnest.
Sapphira has never seen her so freaked out. She nods, her heart beating fast at the panic on Isabel’s face. What happened to make her this scared?
It reminds me of when I was growing up and my aunt would make a jab at me.
She’d call me “monster” and said I deserved to be locked up like one.
But, Isabel shouldn’t feel that way. She grew up here, in Sule?hare?n.
Magic is a part of the land. She shouldn’t feel ashamed of her gifts, she should embrace them.
But instead of saying any of this, Sapphira just says, “Okay. Anything, if you ask of it.”
Isabel lets out a long, deep sigh. “Thank you,” she says. “That should be enough for today. We should head back—”
There’s a loud bang overhead, and both women are helpless as they watch a giant shadow begin to fall in the distance. The shadow speeds down past the trees and crashes to the ground with a shaking impact.
“That was a draek?n . . .” Isabel whispers. Then loudly, she says, “That draek?n is injured.” She jumps to her feet. “I have to go help!”
“What?” Sapphira shouts, following behind her. She grabs Isabel’s arm, pulling her back. “It looks like it landed out in the wasteland. You told me it was dangerous to go out there. Besides, it’s a draek?n!”
The soft-hearted fool shakes her head. “A creature needs my help, Sapphira. I have to go.”
Sapphira groans. “Then I’m going too.”
Isabel takes off at an uneven gait, missing her staff and moving quicker than Sapphira has ever seen her.
The pair race through the jungle and to the edge of the wasteland.
Isabel can’t stop herself fast enough once she sees the downward slope and the end of the jungle.
She shouts as she tumbles down the sandy cliff, spitting out sand when she rolls to a stop.
Sapphira leaps down after her, shouting as she slides down the sand hill.
Sapphira jumps to her feet and shakes out her borrowed clothes, looking for Isabel.
The woman says, “I’m here. I’m okay.”
Sapphira relaxes. “Don’t do that again,” she snaps.
Trudging through the desert, the women kick up sand as they head toward the enormous wine-dark creature lying on its side. They stand only about halfway up the draek?n’s head, and it lashes out when they get close enough.
Roaring and spitting fire, it whips its tail around, nearly catching Isabel’s leg before Sapphira leaps and pushes her out of the way. The two women fall into the sand, Sapphira on top of Isabel. Her cheeks burn as she climbs off her.
Sapphira recognizes the creature from Isabel’s journals. A serpere. And she remembers that, unlike the Dracomammalia, the Dracoreptilia are much crueler and more aggressive due to their cold-blooded nature.
Turning back to the beast, Sapphira pulls her sword and faces the draek?n.