Of Caverns and Casters ✓ [TLRQ #1]

Chapter 27 - Leavi

My fingers brush the silvered glass, my reflection reaching to match. The image echoes in me, the hollow repetition of a sound, like when bats call to each other in a cave but only the edges of noise are audible. This girl is not Mastera Eleaviara Riveirre. This is a ghost, a simple outline of what once was.

Or maybe the haughty mastera is the empty one, and the girl staring in the mirror is, in fact, more complete.

"You okay there?"

I whirl around. Jacin leans against the doorway, a sideways smile splayed across his face.

An embarrassed half-laugh escapes my lips. "Yes." Just playing with my reflection like some kind of mental. I wonder how long he's been standing there.

"Do you need help with something? You look a little lost."

I glance around, trying not to meet his eyes. My gaze lands on the bathtub. "Where is the water?"

He tilts his head at me. "Come on. I'll show you." He pushes off the wall, smile encouraging me to follow.

I hesitate, confused why they would keep the water someplace other than the bathroom. It seems counterintuitive, but Jacin's halfway down the hallway. I catch up.

He pads downstairs and moves through the house to go out the backdoor. I follow him into the crisp morning air. The sun hangs low, the dew still wet on the grass as it slides against my feet. A mossy stone structure stands alone in the clearing, sides open, roof pointing to the sky like some prehistoric temple. In the middle of the tiny building, a wooden bucket dangles crookedly from a rope.

An incredulous smile finds my lips. A well? Even the tiny topside town my field-group visited briefly at least had a pump. This thing is right out of a fairy tale. Part of me expects some sort of magical creature to spring out and make us solve a riddle before we can drink from it.

But Jacin lowers the rope and no mystical being challenges him. I rest my arms on the cool lip of the well, watching the bucket descend. Mother always said reading those novels would do funny things to my head.

He heaves the bucket back up and dumps the water into a large container at the base of the well. As he lowers it again, I take my time to form my question. Once I'm sure my words are right, I ask carefully, "You have to do this each time you want to wash?"

He glances at me, a teasing smile dimpling his cheek. "What else would you do? Will it to appear?"

"No, I—" Blushing, I turn to stare at the treeline. How am I supposed to answer him? Well, in a normal society, water is filtered and piped to all the buildings. The only people that use wells are wax figures in history museums.

"You know, Leavi, if it wasn't for your pretty pale skin, I'd think you were one of those snooty Morineause."

Not entirely sure what he said, I can't quite tell if it was an insult or a joke. I turn back and catch his wide grin. Joke, then.

I smile back, and he finishes pulling up and dumping out the bucket. As he resets it, he says, "Did you know Marcí was originally from Morineaux? Not the Draón border that tells itself it's Morineaux either, but actual, proper Morineaux. Or at least that's what she claims. Not sure why they'd come so far up north if that's the case, but other than that, it makes a lot of sense."

I don't know what these places he's mentioning are, but considering the way he's talking about them, I get the feeling if I asked, he'd look at me like I was crazy. Instead, I say, "Why?"

"It'd account for her better-than-thou attitude." He winks.

I have the uncanny sensation that there's a joke there somewhere and I'm missing it. I smile like I know what he's talking about.