Chapter 5
Despite the fact that the Quiet has fallen, no one approaches the mountain. Zan’s senses are better than a human’s, and he doesn’t hear or smell anyone.
They must not realize yet that they can.
But as we approach the base of the mountain, Zan puts on his own disguise. His blue hair turns black. His eyes become a more normal blue. His skin gains a pink undertone like mine.
The rest is hard to describe. He’s still close to the same shape, and still handsome, but it’s like all his edges have been mildly distorted, softened; flattened. He looks like an attractive human, but the otherworldliness is gone.
Zan arches his brows at my intense study of him. “No longer miraculous?”
Even his voice has lost some of its layers. Remarkable.
I don’t like it.
But in the challenge in his gaze, in his tone, I still see him.
“I still recognize you,” I finally say. “But you look like a lie.”
Zan shrugs. “I am.”
My eyes narrow a fraction. I have the sense I’m meant to take that at face value when he really means something more by it.
But we’re about to be in public, so this isn’t the time to press him.
“Are you ready?” he asks as the trees begin to taper off.
“I don’t know why you keep asking me that,” I say. “Obviously the answer is no, but I’m going to do it anyway.”
Zan glances sidelong at me. “Humans typically react badly when I just pick them up in my claws and drop them somewhere new.”
I love that underneath his cool facade I can see some of his edges.
I wonder who he lets see them.
I also wonder if he meant that to be a challenge, because I’m absolutely taking it that way.
“I’m not most humans.” A vast understatement.
“Or most sages,” Zan agrees wryly. “Fine. I think we will pass most easily for a human couple, if you’re up for it. Partners often visit Crystal Hollow, and it won’t seem odd if you gawk.”
I could manage not to gawk. I am well-trained. The rest—
“What does acting like a human couple entail?”
Zan shrugs.
Oh, does he have feelings about this, then?
“Staying close,” he says without looking at me. “Looking like we like each other.”
“I think I can manage,” I say dryly.
Zan does glance back at me then. “Not getting into fights in public. Not that humans don’t do that, but it will draw attention.”
I sigh dramatically. “Spoilsport.”
A flicker of a smile, there and gone.
“Should we hold hands?” I ask. That’s a thing that couples do, right? Though maybe not, five hundred years later—
He hesitates again.
Okay there is definitely something going on with the touching.
“Probably not necessary,” Zan says coolly.
I ignore my pang of disappointment—and what it implies—because I’d much rather focus on figuring him out.
But before long we’ve reached the first buildings, much closer to the foot of the mountain now than they ever were in my time.
And they’re... I tilt my head. “Are all the buildings crooked?”
Zan’s lips quirk, though his gaze is distant. “Yes. When Tasa rebuilt Crystal Hollow, she made every home unique. The city later established a rule that all buildings in Crystal Hollow had to match to keep the same charm. So even as Crystal Hollow has grown, centuries later, her mark persists.”
Even a null can leave a mark so large.
I’m a sage.
I can’t help feeling like I ought to have been able to change more.
I established the Quiet, but the Order didn’t reform. Now that the dampening field has fallen... Nothing of my life before will remain. No memory; no sign of my passing.
Is that what I want? To fade into obscurity?
I try to focus on the present as Zan leads me through the maze that Crystal Hollow has become. Once upon a time, it was a small village, but despite the Quiet, that’s no longer the case.
“People wanted to live here?” I ask quietly. “Even without magic?”
“Over time Crystal Hollow became known as a sanctuary for anyone.” A hint of bitterness in his tone. “Unfortunately that means it no longer is.”
It takes me a moment to work that out, but then I see what he means. If people moved here who just want freedom from consequences for bad behavior, that means they make it less safe for people who need sanctuary from bad behavior and unfair consequences.
But I don’t have a chance to ask anything more apt, because then I start to notice people.
Somehow, this is the bigger shock, which is a little ridiculous. I obviously knew people still existed.
But I haven’t been around them unsupervised... really ever.
I shift closer to Zan. Not that he’s my supervisor, but he’s... a filter, in a way. A barrier through which I can begin to acclimate.
I will have to be careful not to depend on him too much, to make him feel like he can’t simply pick me up in his claws and drop me somewhere and expect me to be okay.
I don’t want to trap him with me.
But for my very first day... maybe I can lean on him, just this once.
I’ll just need to make sure I learn enough so that it doesn’t become a habit.
So I subtly twist my hands as I spin, trying to make it seem casual, like I am just taking in my surroundings, which is true.
But it’s also a kata.
Mild; just improving focus. No one but a sage—a trained sage, anyway—would even notice the magic, especially with the disguise keeping it from being visible.
But Zan notices.
He notices a lot, I’m realizing.
I wonder if, like me, it’s because he’s had to learn to read a situation instantly for self-protection.
Or maybe it’s simply because he’s interested in everything. He’s had time to be, in five hundred years, hasn’t he? Though not to pursue those interests openly, and that, too, I can unfortunately relate to.
I also wonder for a moment if he’s going to scold me like my tutors would have for acting without prior approval, but he doesn’t, just continues walking—and begins telling me where we’re going.
Treating me like a person, with my own expertise, as a matter of course.
I didn’t expect that to matter quite so much, but it does.
Crystal Hollow has expanded considerably, and although it’s the only big town on Sanctuary Isle, there are even some farms around the mountain now too.
Most food still comes from the Kameyan mainland—the climate here doesn’t support everything, especially without magical reinforcement—but some staples like milk and eggs are predominantly local.
By the time we reach what Zan calls “downtown,” I’m confident that I know the path we’ve taken from the mountain and can get there again by myself.
But there are... a lot more people. I freeze like my entire system has been shocked.
I thought I was acclimating, but this is sensory overload—it’s abruptly much louder, and there are more scents, and there’s so much movement—
Zan steps in front of me, blocking my view. I blink up at him in something like a daze.
He leans toward me, and my gaze fastens on him, desperate for an anchor.
Zan brings his mouth next to my ear, his breath ghosting over my skin, which drags me into full awareness of the moment, of him and his presence and nothing else.
“Can you do a kata to muffle the sound?” he says in a low voice.
I blink rapidly.
That’s right. We’re pretending to be a couple.
Pretending.
And if he were going to kiss me... I would want to appreciate the full experience of it. Not like this.
Can I muffle sound? Great question; not something I’ve ever tried before. Sages tend to use our magic for purposes that align with the source of our power.
But if I am angry that I can’t manage to walk down a city street without being overwhelmed, angry that my life never prepared me for something so mundane—angry that my tutors isolated me to the point that without external intervention, without walls between me and the people I ostensibly served, I can’t engage with people directly—
There. Okay, I can do it. However—
“I don’t have a shortcut for that usage,” I whisper back. “I would need to do a full kata. But if I do—”
“Then everyone will know that you’re a sage. Dammit.” Zan leans back just enough so he can look me in the eye, the intensity in his gaze in full force giving me life. “New plan. Can you stay with me? We’re going to a café that will be quieter, but we’ll have to cross through the crowd.”
The initial shock is wearing off, so I think so, but— “Can I hold your hand?” I ask quietly.
I look away, my cheeks heating.
It’s so stupid that I can’t walk through a street full of people. Maybe I could if I really tried hard enough—maybe I’m already relying on him too much, because I want to hold his hand even though I know he’s not at ease about it—
Zan takes one of my hands.
My gaze flies back to his.
“Always, Yora,” Zan says in a rough voice.
Whoa. What does that mean?
I didn’t make up his hesitation to touch me before, so what in the world—
Zan turns, keeping hold of my hand in his and pulling me through the open-air market.
This time, the sound sort of washes around me. Rather than trying to process all the sights and scents, I pass through them like water, Zan’s warm hand like a beacon as I fix my gaze on the back of his head and just follow.
Then he opens the door to a shop, and as soon as it closes behind us the world quiets.
My shoulders relax, and it feels like a weight has lifted off of my mind. I hadn’t even realized how tense I still was.
Zan leads me to a table and chairs, and I sit gratefully.
“I’m sorry,” Zan says, frustration audible. “I didn’t think—”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. It should have occurred to me, I just... didn’t really conceive of what a bigger Crystal Hollow would mean for me.”
“I knew, though,” Zan said, “I should have—”
“You’re not responsible for thinking of everything in advance,” I interrupt him a little testily. “Sometimes you have to adapt to circumstances, and we did. Where are we?”
Zan pauses for a moment, like he’s unwilling to accept my rejection of his culpability.