Chapter 9
The visit to the seamstress was the kind of experience past-me would’ve written odes about in her journal.
Dresses, tunics, trousers… Every stitch in every shade, arranged like the rainbow had thrown up in the most elegant way imaginable.
I had no notion of what kind of provisions I was allowed, so I played it safe: a few flowing dresses suitable for formal occasions here, and enough undergarments and stockings that I might manage without endless washing by hand, as well as a stack of trousers and blouses I could mix and match.
I only took what I truly needed—I didn’t want to spend more than necessary or give the impression that I was taking advantage of their generosity.
I also picked out a ridiculously soft coat, gloves, and a scarf for the colder days to come.
The clothes were luxurious in their texture, practical in their cut, and entirely without pretense.
As with the Lodge’s furniture, they reflected a philosophy I had scarcely known: that life itself could be fashioned to be comfortable, elegant, and wholly effortless.
The seamstress promised to have everything sent up to the Lodge, leaving me to drift toward the door in a warm haze of satisfaction.
I stopped in my tracks.
The most beautiful earrings I had ever seen. Two tiny, feathered deities forged from a single thread of golden wire, their eyes blazing with faceted violet stones that shimmered like they knew all my secrets.
“They’re one of a kind,” came the voice of the shopkeeper, suddenly beside me like she’d appeared from thin air. “The goldsmith says the designs come to him in dreams. These arrived today.”
Of course they did. They had prophecy written all over them.
“They’re stunning,” I breathed. “And wildly out of budget.” I gave her an apologetic smile. “Your Lord was generous enough to fund the basics, but I think magical owl earrings might tip the scales a bit.”
She returned my smile, entirely unfazed. “Come back if you change your mind,” she said and maybe I’d actually do that as soon as all of this was over.
The sun was high up in the sky when I left the shop, tinting the colorful houses of the main street in a golden light.
I started walking back to the Lodge, stopping in front of shop windows here and there, admiring the beautiful bouquets at the florist and watching children play in the street.
I left the town behind and walked past the fields again, the farm helpers still out in the sun, their hands tanned from being outside all day.
A little girl came running across the field towards me, a small basket in hand.
She stopped a few stretches away from me, unsure of whether she should approach or not.
Her eyes were a light blue color, but her skin had a deep green hue to it.
Her hair was dark and curly, hanging loosely into her eyes and framing her pretty face.
There were little horns sticking out of her head, almost hidden by the mass of curls.
I crouched down and smiled at her. “Hello there, what’s your name?”
“My name is Lirael. My mother said to give you these.” She jerkily stretched out her arm and offered me the little basket, full of a fruit I had never seen before.
“Oh, what a beautiful name. I am Mae. Thank you so much for the fruit, but I have no money to pay for it.”
A female walked up behind Lirael and smiled at me, “It’s a gift, my lady, no need to pay for it. We wanted to show our appreciation for you coming to our aid.”
She was absolutely gorgeous. The kind of pretty that was effortless and had nothing to do with silks or powders. Her eyes were as blue as her daughter’s, her hair dark, her skin the color of lush forest canopies.
“Well, thank you so much for this gift. Although I have to admit that I have no idea what kind of fruit this is or how to eat it.”
Lirael smiled brightly at her mother. “Can we please, please, please, show her?”
“Sure, darling. We could all use a break, I think.” She gestured for the other farmers to join us beside the road.
I learned that her name was Sylwen and she belonged to the Nyruni Faeries.
Their magic lay in growing and cultivating fruits, vegetables and flowers.
Her family had lived here for thousands of years, tending to the fields around the Lodge.
The other workers arrived and brought a whole cask of the fruit, and we went to sit down on a little patch of grass.
“Have you truly never eaten a Zerquin?” Lirael asked with big eyes.
“No, I can’t say that I have. Where I come from, this fruit does not exist. But I am excited to try it with you today,” I said laughing. The little girl’s excitement over a fruit was simply adorable.
Lirael beamed with pride and grabbed a Zerquin for me and herself. The fruit had a thick purple skin that was rough to the touch.
“You need to grab it between two hands and twist it in opposite directions. Like this, you see?” Lirael showed me.
“All right, let me try. Like this?”
With a clicking sound, the fruit was broken in two, revealing the vibrant yellow flesh on the inside. It was nearly glowing in comparison to the dark exterior of the fruit and was divided into soft, fibrous segments.
“The first thing you have to do is to drink the juice, that’s the best part,” Lirael excitedly explained and raised half of the Zerquin to her mouth.
Well, there was a first time for everything.
It wasn’t like they had any reason to poison me, right?
Everybody was watching me intently. The moment the juice touched my mouth, I knew why they were all waiting for my reaction.
The first sensation that hit me was the sour taste, making me want to scrunch up my nose and let out a little squeak.
But then the tingling started, like little sour balls of fireworks exploding in my mouth.
The farm workers around me started laughing before opening up their own fruits.
The fizzing in my mouth subsided and all that was left was a wonderful fresh taste of summer and sunshine.
“After sipping the juice,” Lirael explained, “you have to scoop out the yellow flesh with your teeth.” The texture of the Zerquin was tender, comparable to a ripe mango, each bite giving a burst of the sour-sweet flavor that left a pleasant tingle.
“It’s a very popular fruit among the children in the summer, mostly eaten as a cooling treat on warm days.
It is known for its energizing properties.
Some even say the fruit has mild magical qualities, with the juice believed to sharpen the senses for a short while after consumption,” Sylwen explained.
Most of the workers returned to the fields with a big smile and a wave shortly after, so only Sylwen and I remained. Lirael was already off, playing with her friends.
“Have you met Auretheos yet?” Sylwen asked me with a little side glance that I couldn’t quite decipher.
“Yes, I met him when I arrived. He seemed nice, even though a little… odd maybe? Formal?” I didn’t know how deep the devotion of him went in the community, reminding myself that he was in fact a God and I probably shouldn’t speak ill of him.
“Auretheos is a complex person. Everybody thinks as a God he is untouchable, but he hasn’t led an easy life.
He is odd, but he is fair and kind. It would be easy for him to use his knowledge for personal gains, but he is selfless to a fault.
Everything he does is for his people and in return we try to make him proud.
” I had not expected such kind words from Sylwen, but it was apparent how loved Auretheos was around here.
“What happened to him that makes you think he has had a hard life? He is a God after all, how bad can that be?” I asked, but Sylwen shook her head.
“That is not my story to tell. All I can say is that his life has left him with few choices, always in service to everyone else.”
I had assumed that being a God came with a lot of responsibilities, but I had never factored in the aspects of duty and sacrifice that went into being a God. Was that why he was being so earnest and level-headed?
“Can I ask you about the temple and the Lodge? I noticed that there are only men working here and Enbergin the cook told me it was one of Auretheos’ rules that he put in place centuries ago. What’s it all about?”
Sylwen finished that last of her Zerquin and put her hand on my hand. Her touch was oddly comforting, although I generally didn’t like to be touched without forewarning.
“I do not know the exact reasons for this, and it is not my place to question a God’s decision.
What I can tell you, is that when Auretheos was younger, he would spend time with all of us in town.
We’d go to the fair together, went bathing in the lake and even stole some tobacco from one of the priests one time, can you imagine? ” Sylwen laughed.
“It all changed when he was getting older, his duties in the temple becoming more and more. That’s when he put the rules into place, only allowing men to work at the house and the temple. If you ask me, I think it’s self-defense, he doesn’t want any distractions…”
Before I could ask Sylwen what she meant by that, Caelan was approaching us.
“Aha, I see you have met with the troublemaker of this realm.” He grinned and greeted Sylwen with a hug.
“I haven’t been a troublemaker for a very long time and you know it! Although I do hear that you don’t go by Caelan anymore, but rather by ‘shrine rag.’”
Caelan laughed, and Sylwen gave him a slight push.
“Wow, word travels fast around here,” I said, slightly embarrassed that in my anger I had given Caelan such an unfortunate nickname. They squabbled back and forth with each other for a few more minutes before Caelan turned to me:
“I am sorry I wasn’t there this morning, but there was a problem at one of the cities nearby. Are you ready to return to the Lodge for another meeting with Auretheos?”
I playfully rolled my eyes, but said my goodbyes to Sylwen and promised to come back another time to hear more stories about the God of Wisdom stealing tobacco.
“She is nice,” I said to Caelan as we walked back towards the Lodge, and he smiled.
“She is trouble, be careful with that one.”