Unto Dust

006.

It was one large room, with stairs that led up to Orithin's private bedroom. Or so she presumed. There was no bed here. The couch was plush but small to fit a lanky wizard laying supine. There was a small kitchen and circular table that would seat perhaps three. Tapestries hung the walls, granting warmth to the stone building. To one corner was a bookcase that had the appearance of once being organized, until it had been filled to the brim, spilling over to nearby shelves and chairs. From the ceiling hung orbs of various colors hung from the ceiling, casting a dim but persistent glow.

Orithin followed her gaze and grinned. "They're flits, if you can believe it. I have regular block flits as well, for stacking. But the shape of these fill the room better."

"What are they made from?" There was a deep glimmer within the orbs that was different from the glow of flits made from river stones. "Aquamarine?"

"Something like that."

Fiona fought off her desire to discuss the flits further and pulled her attention back to the conversation they were having before. "We can speak freely here?" She needn't have asked, as she had nearly been blinded by the strength of protective charms as soon as she had stepped inside. These would be further amplified by obeisance to the Cardinals.

Orithin nodded, waiting.

She took a second to gather her thoughts. "From what you've told me so far, the folkway desire to kill me as they cannot kill the son of the governor."

Another nod.

"Who is Enjo, the boy who has been helping me with my stand."

Nod.

Fiona gritted her teeth. He seemed willing to volunteer information, but only in small pieces at a time. "And you say he did this because his father wants to bring Ibis mages out of hiding. To achieve this, he wanted to use me as an example of a 'harmless' witch."

Orithin drummed his fingers against the arm of his chair, studying her. "You seem unconvinced," he said lightly. "Not that I blame you."

She exhaled a tight breath. "It isn't exactly that I need more convincing. I just struggle to understand why..." She trailed off and shifted uncomfortably in the plush couch. "They're guileless."

The words fell from her mouth but it was the most honest thing she had said thus far.

"They are that," said Orithin, seemingly in agreement. The corner of his mouth twisted into a smile and a grimace. "It seems strange, does it not? Mages valuing the life of a guileless child over a witch. After all, you'd live three or four times over his lifespan." He patted a hand over his chest where his pouch of bone dust was stowed. "Our cumulative cleverness could, say, draft a spelling to wipe his memories of you."

It was Fiona's turn to nod, though it was with some reluctance. If it were so easy, he would undoubtedly already have cast such a spell.

"There are two reasons why the folkway decided to... decommission you, rather than spell the guileless boy." He cocked his head, considering his words. "At least two reasons. You see, the folkway recently found out who you are." Orithin stood and crossed the room to the bookcase. He selected a book from the lower right corner and thumbed through it. Then, he ripped out a page and handed this to her.

Fiona drew her fingertips lightly across the artistic rendering of her, feeling oddly outside of herself. Whoever had drawn it had gotten many details correct. Her sharp nose, her tapering chin. Her upper lip slightly fuller than her lower. It was surreal looking at a drawing of her face, here in Ibis, thousands of miles away from where it would have originated.