To Make a Kinder Children's Tale

33: Passing Time

Days flowed together, but the change between them was for the better.

Esme walked the city. Her escort rotated, and many of the guards that directly paced her side were surprised by the things that gave them away. Much of it was simple and obvious mistakes of the arrogant.

One day, it was:

"Men on the flats need to look like they belong there or blend in. There's plenty of people who eat breakfast up on their own rooftop, even alone. There should be: a plate, cup, interaction with those things. The uniforms aren't too noticeable from this distance, but without something normal to occupy their time? Obvious for anyone looking up to check on who is watching them. But it would be even better if they wore common attire, maybe switch to a more subtle marker, like an armband? You should know which houses your men are on, to not need markings of any sort to know who it is. And if there are too many men up there to keep track of, then you're overexposed, anyway. Men that are closer in or not sticking to one roof need to wear the colors of the siding: sandy colors, low skin exposure, invisible as much as possible. Armbands are still an option, but they have to be hidden, much of the time-a flip of cloth."

Another day:

"See this one? Yes, he's not in uniform, but he walks like he's on parade. No one walks like that but a man on patrol. Save the stroll for when there is one."

Again:

"This man is the absolute worst. He has dark skin and is trying his best to act subservient like a pale skin and not even doing well at it. Nothing says slumming more than that-and worse, not even for a jape. If a man looks like he is slumming, let him slum. Oggle a few women. Offer a coin to one or two of them, to whisper something in their ear. Better yet, have women who are used to playing the reluctant 'skirt in your target area, so their coin is taken yet they can still be wandering around. Plenty of women would love the extra money, without much demanded of them. A rejected man is far more likely to attract the trouble they're there to find if they look like they're rejected and bored-even in the middle of a crowded street. There's something that screams 'easy mark' about a man of status not even being able to bring a 'skirt-or even not so 'skirtish woman-to heel."

The improvements even in the first few weeks were remarkable. It started taking a bit more work to find the men and catch them being obvious. And she heard that it was starting to cause a pinch-people with her skill level were starting to be caught in various games of theft. All without her having to betray anyone.

Althalos made more of an effort to bring Esme to meet with various friends and family-both in castle and out, during the traditional hours-those he thought would suit her more enigmatic nature. She was dragged into arguments on the merits of morality with a great-uncle, one of grandfather's three surviving siblings. A third cousin taught her various games with a tarot deck with a focus on how to survive light banter-when concentrating, she proved to be pretty competitive, earning invitations to play games with more of the family. Her heart wasn't in that, true, but then gambling didn't suit the caution she had been raised in. It was a tool to her, to fit in with the Aelfine.

The one that pleased everyone was meeting with the king's sculptor after she mentioned she wanted to reclaim her fascination with an old man's whittling. Two gifts popped up not long afterwards: a wall-mounted board filled with locks accompanied by an exquisitely carved lockpick set, and a pair of thin, nearly impervious gloves with a small matching carving knife. The Prince wanted to nurture both skills and passing interests and to protect the former thief from her own clumsiness.

Esme wouldn't call her days full or busy, but neither were they bitterly alone and empty. So her visit to the barracks to find Althalos at work was the result of a better attitude.

The braw Aelif was so startled that he nearly toppled his chair over as he stood to greet her. "What brings you here today, my dear?"

For once, she was tempted to laugh at him. "Nothing in particular. Just acting on your suggestion."

He gave his response a flair of drama by touching his forehead with the back of his hand and slumping back into his chair. "I thought it was more lashing out in frustration."

"That too..." Esme couldn't help that her lip twitched at his antics, but other thoughts to focus on kept her from temptation. "What has happened with this Seeded Woman?"

He shook his head and stood in a more serious manner. "Sometimes I forget what you don't know. Come, I'll show you how your assailant is faring."

He lead her down a few corridors into the lower levels, where the jail cells were-better than a true dungeon, surely, but not comfortable living. The third cell on the right held something. Stranger still, the door was wide open-most of the others were closed. Althalos strode in first, which blocked the view of it's contents as the Princess drew closer. The Prince did eventually step out the way to reveal a sculpture of the woman who attacked her.

"Who took the time to carve this?" she looked up at it closely, nearly jumping as it appeared to blink at her. Her all too human mind insisted that it wasn't possible. "The details are so...real."

"No one, Esme. The Seeded Wife is a seed, an enormous one. Be careful, she is still capable of moving but likely doesn't have the mind for it anymore."

Sure enough, when the former thief looked towards the crown of the woman'shead, she could make out a crack with a tiny seedling pushing it's way out from the shell. "What kinds of plants do they make?"

"An unnatural version of a real plant, from flower to tree. This appears to be a tree's seedling, this time, but as to which, I've no idea."

"I've seen apple trees before-they are in the orchard, right?" She looked back at him waiting for his agreement. "How would this be different?"

He gave her a bare nod, but addressed the second question. "The trunk would be four times wider, easily. The leaves, flowers, and fruit are slightly larger. The fruit will temporarily alter those who eat them in a subtle manner."

"How?"

"Hard to say." Althalos paused there, and she thought he would go silent unless she prodded him on, but he surprised her when he spoke again. "I don't think there is any stability to the trait at all. One could affect growth-you'll be taller or shorter than you should have been with regularly eating the fruit during your growing years, for example. They do tend towards positive outcomes, but until a fruit is produced there is no telling."

"Is the plant a thinking creature?"

"Almost. Certainly more than the seed is, by this point. They can be dangerous as they move more than other trees, possibly out of emotional response."

"So, what is to be done with it?"

"It will be forced to bear a fruit before it is planted, to test it's ability. And if it is something worth keeping, it will be planted by someone. Most do not want to bear responsibility for the things, otherwise." Althalos shrugged, as he sometimes did when the subject wasn't his to care for.

"I'd hate to see it go to waste like that..." It was a wistful tone, but Esme knew she couldn't guarantee that she would be there to take care of the tree.

"Any reason why?" He spoke from his usual lax demeanor, but by this time she thought she understood him enough to know that there was nothing mild about his question.

So the former thief thought about it. Gave it some real consideration before speaking again. "None, really. Perhaps because it did not choose it's life so far. I would like to give it a chance to thrive like any other living creature, in spite of that. But we live in someone else's home and don't know what the future holds. What could I promise a tree?"

The very temporary Princess touched the seed's surface then walked out the cell before Althalos turned to follow. A thoughtful look crossed his face as the Seeded Wife brought a hand up on her own, tracing the path his bondmaid had left. It wasn't hard to figure out that Esme's real thoughts were about themselves, probably more herself than him. He at least had work to do to pass the time instead of waiting for the future to find him. But there was no doubt to him that what remained of this creature responded to her.