City of Mages

Chapter 7: Alara

As they passed through the stone arch marking the threshold into outer city, Quenti threw her head back and took a deep breath, taking in the starry view. "El'dyo, I missed this."

Alara didn't respond, still fuming at the last hour's events. But even she had to appreciate the fresh night air that grazed her face. The moon had waned to almost nothing, and the streets were dark with shadows. The only light coming from a few lanterns and the stars that peppered the navy sky.

The roads were cobbled, winding, and thin. Having been built over hundreds of years, the city limits had slowly expanded as the power of the Council and Haven grew, attracting more and more blameless. Three distinct walls surrounded much of Cielo. As the population grew, the old walls became defunct. Now, they were more symbolic, separating the terraces and neighborhoods, though the doorways always remained open, allowing citizens to filter through without trouble.

Where they were now was one of the oldest parts of the city, though, where the original blameless had settled. Even still, the streets were barely wide enough for two carts to pass by each other. Against the building, small walkways raised up away from the streets, but these were only wide enough for one person to balance carefully. The three of them walked in the center of the empty street, the stones curving under Alara's thin soled boots.

"Hey, Senya Strong Grip, where are we headed?" Quenti said, voice dry and unconcerned.

Ignoring her, Alara kept her face toward the sky, appreciating the breeze.

Adelmo didn't look back as he responded, "Home."

Quenti looked around the quiet, sleeping city, her eyes wandering slowly up the buildings, many two stories high in this district. "I thought all the Council's mages lived inside the Haven?"

Alara gave a short snicker before remembering she was still upset at Quenti. Adelmo, however, let out a large and gruff laugh, his face beamed and he threw a wink at Alara before looking back at Quenti.

"I ain't no mage, kid."

***

Adelmo's home was a short walk from the Haven entrance, and they made the rest of the trip in silence. As they passed by the stables, Alara peeked in to see the l'lamas and l'lamagas sleeping in their stalls, ears twitching as they dreamed. As soon as they entered Adelmo's house, Alara made a beeline to the chest in the corner without so much as an order from the old man.

To Alara, Adelmo's house was almost as much her home as the Haven itself was. In her years residing within the walls of Cielo, she hadn't made very many friends, but Adelmo had always been a sort of parental figure for her—much to the chagrin of Emaru, given Adelmo's blameless blood. Though, in spite of Emaru's protests, Alara had always found ways to sneak away from the Haven to spend her free afternoons with Adelmo in his stables, helping care for the Council l'lamagas. It was the one bit of defiance Alara allowed herself as a magite.

She opened the rough wood lid and snatched a rough tunic and pair of trousers from inside the chest and retreated into the water closet to change. After putting on the clean outfit, she quietly went to work filling a bucket with water from the barrel outside.

Quenti sat on a stool near the door, looking dumbfounded at what she saw, and Alara couldn't help but take the slightest bit of satisfaction in her confusion. Adelmo ignored both and made tea next to the fire.

"Okay, so why do you have a change of clothes here?" Quenti finally asked, her voice laced with irritation.

Alara didn't say anything, though she could hear Quenti just fine. After everything the girl put her through, Alara was allowed this childish moment of superiority. Instead, she silently wrung out her tunic and pants, washing away the filth of the evening. She hung them out the window of the house before dumping the dirty water outside.

Adelmo handed Quenti a mug of coca tea. Upon receiving it, the girl absently tapped her fingers onto the leaves floating on top, soaking them in the steaming water.

"I," Adelmo said, "might have taught Alara a thing or two about physical combat while Emaru wasn't looking. I'm sure she's figured it out by now," he shrugged, "but she hasn't told me to stop yet."

Quenti grinned at this, taking a sip of her tea. "How did you learn to fight?"

Adelmo smiled and waved toward a small club that hung on the wall. It was marked with the Council's symbol: two rings linked together. "The same way all councilguards learn to fight."

Quenti's eyes went wide at this.

"Mind you," Adelmo said, "that was a long time ago, before time had its way with me, leaving me with sore knees and a bad back."

Alara watched from the corner of the room, her own tea clasped in her hands. She didn't like how relaxed Quenti looked. How was Alara the one anxious about getting in trouble when it was Quenti that got them into this mess?

As she sipped her tea, the taste sweet on her tongue, she made sure to shoot glares at Quenti so the girl knew she was still angry. For Quenti's part, she didn't seem to care. After the initial confusion, she'd taken to Adelmo's home like her own—which was actually very annoying. She continued to chat with old man, asking him questions about the councilguard and the history of Cielo.

Alara's eyes grew heavy and she set down her mug, leaning back against the bale of hay in the corner. She vaguely wondered how long her magite clothes would take to dry before her eyes finally closed, the sound of Quenti and Adelmo's soft voices lulling her to sleep.