Intentions

Shallan swiped one her index finger from the top of her ear down to her jaw, muttering De’San’s name under her breath. Her focus flashed a dull purple and she felt her magic take hold in her voice. “Hey, the group is going to be doing things again in a few days. When do you want to close the Vediyahn rifts?” she asked.

And then I was sitting th—shit. Um. Today works. Give me three minutes. Maybe five. Maybe fifteen. I’ll be there shortly, was De’San’s response, words clipped short by his accent.

She paused, chin resting on her thumb, the rest of her fingers over her mouth, and decided against sending another time. Not worth it; he’d show up when he showed up. She set back into her research, trying to slowly pick her way through understanding seventh level spells. It was like smacking her head into a wall, but she was slowly making progress. It’d still be a while before she had anything significant to show for it though.

A few short minutes later, there was a knock at the door, and De’San let himself in. Near immediately, she felt herself raise her own walls, withdrawing into herself. She’d give him nothing more than a polite neutrality.

He stopped by Gerard, where he sat on the couch, and ruffled his son’s hair with a hello. He then leaned on the table in front of her. “Let’s go, Chana,” he said to her.

She glanced up, closing her journal. She slid it into the holster at her hip and stood. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Wait, you need a jacket. It’s permafrost season in Vediyah,” he said.

She squinted at him slightly. Doesn’t permafrost last all year? Not important. She could ask someone else later.

She ran upstairs and grabbed the teal winter coat she’d gotten for the Frostfell off the back of her “desk” chair. She slipped it on, buttoning up to her chin, as she walked back into the main floor. “Vediyah can’t be colder than the Frostfell,” she muttered. “We’re going?”

He sidestepped and pulled something in the air. A ripple formed, like the waves of heat off stone, and he gestured towards it. “After you,” he said.

She heard De’San call “Thank you for the letter, Gerry!” as she stepped through, and was immediately hit with the frigid air of Lower Vediyah. De’San was a half second behind her. All cheer left his face as he glanced around. “Right. We have rifts to close.” He paused. “You should take out your piercings. They’ll give you frostbite.”

She reached for her ears. “Ah. Thanks.” She had just popped out the first set of hoops, dropping them into her pocket, when she looked at De’San. He seemed to be idling, but she doubted he wasn’t paying attention to everything around them. It was her turn to pause, spotting his ears still lined with metal. “Um,” she started. “You gonna take yours out or are you looking for frostbite?”

He reached up. “I already took mine—oh. Thank you,” he said, starting the same process as her.

About a minute later, the two were walking through the dirt streets of the Lower City. Shallan had no clue where they were or where exactly they were going, but considering she hadn’t spent much time in the city—on purpose, mind you—that wasn’t surprising.

She maintained a polite silence for the first while. De’San also seemed content to walk in silence, and the lack of jibes and jabs at her was unusual. How long do you think that’ll last? she asked herself. My money is halfway through this round of rifts.

The quiet continued until Shallan had well and truly lost track of where she was and where they had been. “I assume you know where we are?” she asked, switching to Vediyahn.

“Yes, roughly. I think this building here used to be a bakery oh, fifty or so years ago.”

“I’ll take your word for it?”

“I stole some dough from here once. I got chased out by the baker, and then he dumped the rest of the dough on my head. Seems rather stupid to chase me out if he was just going to dump it on me.”

She snorted. “Was it any good?”

“Not really. That’s maybe because it was raw. Well, I tried boiling it in water, but that didn’t work.”

“You know, they make bagels that way.”

He spun to look back at her, continuing to walk backwards. “You mean they make bagels by boiling dough?”

“I mean, it requires making the right dough, but yeah. They boil ‘em for like a minute, then bake them the rest of the way.”

“You learn something new everyday.”

“I am nothing if not a wealth of useless and random information.”

“Who knew I’d been halfway to making bagels.”

She snorted as they turned the corner, and he nudged her in front. “Take a right into the next alley,” he muttered. “And about halfway down.”

She followed where she was told, moving slowly once she was in the alley itself. “Right about there,” De’San called, a few steps behind her.

Shallan stopped. She couldn’t see anything, but that was normal. She didn’t particularly care to waste the truesight for the day either. Let’s see if I can do this blind.

She reached out with the cold shard nestled behind her ribs, allowing the chill to flood her senses. She’d done it enough already it took little effort before she could taste the iron and salt of the Shadowfell; to feel its presence in her bones. “Got it,” she said.

“I’ll keep an eye out while you do your thing. Just don’t take too long.”

She didn’t answer, instead reaching out further. She brushed against another alien mind, sharp with hunger. Wait. Something will happen and I will know. Wait. Then I can feed. The thoughts didn’t stop as she made contact, but she could feel the acknowledgment of her.

Shallan spoke quietly. “Go home. You’re free to go, released from your orders.”

The thoughts paused. Go? Mother says go?

“Yes. You’re no longer required to wait here.”

A bird-like head as large as she was, feathers black and patchy, the skin underneath gray and withered, emerged from the rift. The creature cocked its head, and she could see the wisps of shadow flowing around it. Another shadow phoenix. Where Xitira had gotten a second phoenix egg, she had no idea.

She laid a hand on its head, gently scratching under its beak. It chirred quietly, vastly different from the deafening screech she knew they could unleash. Shallan smiled at the shadow phoenix and nudged it back towards the rift. “Come on. You’re released from your orders. Go hunt back in the Shadowfell.”

Yes. Mother asks, and I will do. Will Mother come with?

“I have to stay on the Material for now. I’ll be back on the Shadowfell eventually, and you’re more than welcome to find me there when I am.”

It clacked its beak in annoyance, but reluctantly pulled back through the rift. She waited a few breaths before reaching out once again. This time, she felt nothing in the rift.

Shallan glanced back at De’San. “You missed another shadow phoenix this time,” she said. “Already gone now. You’re good to clear the rift.”

He hummed, turning away from the street and striding up to the rift. With the same tearing motion he’d done with the other rifts, his psionics flared white and with a sharp crack, Shallan immediately felt the influence of the Shadowfell retreat.

“Closed,” she said. “I can feel it fading.”

“Good. Let’s get to the next one before the guard show up.”

“We’re closing the one in the Upper City then?”

“The people of the Lower City work there. And I don’t want the Archmages having it. The new Archmage, Mordekai Frambessen the Third, is a chronurgist. I don’t want to see what he could do with it.”

“Let’s get going then.”

Closing the second rift took no time at all. It was even faster than the first; whatever creature had been lurking in the rift didn’t even hesitate to leave the moment Shallan asked.

The two of them were making their way back to the small, hidden alley where De’San would rifttear. The same silence filled the air between them as it had before, replaced with the harsh frozen winds. About halfway back, once they were back in the Lower City, De’San spoke. “Thank you, for prioritizing the rifts here. I do genuinely appreciate it.”

Shallan shrugged, but she could feel the tips of her ears burn slightly. She wasn’t fond of being thanked for things she felt she had a responsibility to do. Much less from someone who had been nothing but mocking and condescending towards her. And even less so when it was someone she knew had no issue lying to her. She could count the times he’d been even vaguely cordial on her fingers; usually that was because they weren’t addressing each other directly.

At least her ears were already red from the cold.

“I could do something to help here for once, and the city needs the help,” she muttered, steadfastly looking ahead.

She could feel him looking back at her out of the corner of his eye. “You wanted to help? Why? Is it out of a desire to help the people who live here, or is it because the city has captured your academic curiosity?”

The words stung far more than they should have. They echoed what she had told Telna just a few weeks past, and spoken with the tone that he knew the answer would be an academic one.

Her hands were shoved far into her pockets, curled into fists. It had initially been to work feeling back into them, but hiding whatever combination of frustration-bitterness-anger-irritation was spreading its way down her arms right now was an added bonus. Why wouldn’t I want to help the people here? I’m not Telna; people are always before knowledge. “The people? I can do something to help. They need it more than anywhere else right now; other cities can handle the rifts, have governments that mostly care. Here, it’s the House doing everything, and when your resources are going towards containing rifts...” she trailed off with a shrug, the rest of the sentence implied. They aren't helping people.

For once, she saw actual surprise flicker across his face. “So then why did you learn Vediyahn?”

Ah. So that’s what this is, she thought. Assumption I’m no different from any wizard in the Upper City. Fine. If he wanted to have this conversation now, then so be it. Maybe he’d finally shut the fuck up.

She stopped and crossed her arms. She stared at him, hard as stone, shoving down her discomfort at meeting eyes with someone she wasn’t close to. “I was told there was no value in learning it. Personally, I think there’s value in learning anything, that everything has something to offer. So I decided to learn it to see what I could find.”

“And what did you find?” he asked, stopping as well and nudging her towards an alley to continue the conversation.

She glanced around the alley, making sure she didn’t trip on any of the boxes, barrels, and debris scattered about. She was at least grateful to be out of the wind for the most part. “I—give me a second.” She pushed herself up onto a stack of crates and considered the reasons she had learned it and why she used it, biting her cheek as she did so.

She had learned Vediyahn from the book De’San had written, Vehenan: On the Language of Vediyah. When she had figured out the he was the author, about two weeks into adventuring, she had been more than a little bit excited. Adiyehn Dehsvir had been someone she’d looked up to, and she‘d be the first to admit she’d been a little bit starry-eyed about it. But meeting your heroes is always disappointing, and not something she held against the book she’d learned from.

The book was far from apolitical, and drew direct focus to the issues facing the Lower City and the crimes of the Upper. It’d been her first real exposure to the world outside of Cierdan, however removed. Sure, history had been one of her best subjects, but there was always something detached about learning the events of several hundred years ago. And she’d been a child before. Nineteen wasn’t much more than one in most cases, but it was enough that she could understand, and form her own opinions. And what she’d read about the Upper City disgusted her. It was formative for her; if she hadn’t, she’d have had no issue purchasing wizarding materials from the Upper City, would’ve considered attempting for an apprenticeship there, and would’ve just ended up continuing the bullshit cycle. Learning Vediyahn, learning about the city, had made her significantly more aware of the dangers of wizarding. And had made her vow she would never be like the Vediyahn wizards.

In regard to the language itself, she liked Vediyahn more than some of the other languages she learned. The language, clipped and sharp, was a pidgin of the language spoken thousands of years ago by the indigenous people in the region and the Mahren spoken by the merchants, who had both created the city together. It wasn’t really anything special. It lacked the flow of Elvish, the grandeur of Draconic, the rhythm of modern Mahren. It was missing words for things like changelings, for a lot of the more technical, magic terms.

But despite all that, it was a language defined by its resilience, its resistance. Entire words devoted specifically to spiting Upper Vediyahns, a culture defensive of its people. Surprisingly straightforward for all its apparent complexity, which was something she in particular appreciated.The Upper City had tried to crush it, but the people held tighter to it, even when it became a symbol of their perceived ignorance and stupidity. But the people were far from that; with their own ways of seeing things, their own opinions, all with something to contribute.

But most of that were things that were hers—were parts of her—and something she didn’t want to share. Least of all with someone who had just proven he wasn’t willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. She didn’t like sharing parts of herself with people she didn’t know, didn’t like.And other parts she wasn't confident in her ability to articulate. So she picked the simplest for her to explain, the reason why she learned every language she knew, and what her initial inspiration to learn Vediyahn had been—aside from spite, that is.

“Communication,” she said only a few seconds later. “Being able to talk to others has an inherent value in itself. Why shouldn’t I learn how to talk with people?”

“But there aren’t any great Vediyahn scholars or philosophers. Few, if any, people here could hold or even keep up in an academic conversation with you.” De’San was leaning against the wall across from her. He seemed mildly confused about her answer, though who knew if that was an accurate read.

She shrugged again. She idly fidgeted with the glassy surface of the buzzing, pale gray crystal strung on her necklace. “They don’t have to. Some people are scholars, some aren’t. Their thoughts and ideas have as much value as anyone else’s.”

He paused. “So you would listen to their stories, to their recipes, their traditions, all of that?”

“Why wouldn’t I? That all has its own value.”

“Like what?”

“A more complete picture. Understanding the people here, what they value. Information grants understanding if you know what to do with it. It’s idiotic to only learn from one thing, to learn about only one thing, when given the chance to learn more.”

“And your distaste for the Archmages, is that just a petty wizard rivalry, or something else?”

She snorted derisively. “What, the exploitation of the Lower City isn’t enough? Yes, I dislike the Archmages for wizard reasons; they reinforce the idea that magical development and progress only comes from gross violations of people’s rights, which is categorically untrue and quite frankly just lazy. But that’s ignoring the fact that I care significantly more about the fact that they’re blatantly violating people’s rights at every possible opportunity and have been for how many years.”

“So you do care about the people here?”

“Did I not just say I wanted to help them less than five minutes ago? Or volunteer to prioritize this city over where my family lives? Or over the rest of Neren, which has political gain for myself, which I apparently have to worry about now?”

There was another pause, longer this time. Trying to read her honesty, she assumed. She continued to stare at him, almost daring him to challenge her.

He met her challenge, but not in the way she thought he would; with more jabs and criticisms. Instead, he said, “If you had been born and raised here, would you have stayed here?”

The question came from left field, and threw her for a loop entirely. She squinted slightly, tilting her head. He took her confusion as suspicion, which was fair, she guessed. “It’s not a test,” he said. His voice was far gentler than she’d heard directed at her for months. Less mockery, less of what she assumed was thinly veiled hatred. More curiosity, an urge to understand. “I’m not trying to trick you.”

“I…I don’t know.” She gestured vaguely with one hand, the other still worrying the crystal between her fingers. “My situation and life would have been so different, it’s hard to say.”

“It wouldn’t change that much. You’d still want to be a wizard, yes?”

“Not necessarily. My experience with wizards would have been vastly different.”

“I don’t think that would have stopped your fascination with magic.”

“I suppose.” She stopped, genuinely considering. “Assuming that then, I imagine I would have left. Tried to learn wizarding elsewhere, where it may have seemed like more of a possibility. Maybe Telna would’ve still taken me, and I still would have taught myself from Berri’s spellbook.”

“Would you have come back?”

“If my family was still here, without question. If they weren’t, but I thought I could help things and not make things worse, I would have. If I didn’t think I could help, I would have stayed out, not wanting to do more harm or interject where I wasn’t welcome. My skills lately lie entirely in research and destruction. At this point my magic is only occasionally useful outside of a fight. I don’t think I’m able to help; if killing the Archmages is all it took to fix things here, you would have done it by now.”

“You think this city is worth helping? That it’s not a lost cause, that I’m not just wasting my time?”

“If it was, you wouldn’t have made any progress, would you?” she countered. “You have a representative on the Council. I know that’s something you’ve done in my lifetime alone. I don’t know what it was like before what I’ve seen, aside from what you wrote, but I think you’ve helped.”

There was a third silence, several minutes long. He seemed to be turning her words over in his head, while she stared off down the alley, watching the skyline of the city. Without the wind, it was significantly more pleasant. She found herself less bothered by the cold, which was odd, but it allowed her to sit in the city, just listening. The smell didn’t particularly bother her, growing up in a major city herself, and it was quieter than Cierdan. Less people, no waves, no distant bells off the ships. The buildings creaked and shuddered in the wind, and conversations and children could be heard a street over.

De’San, as usual at this point, broke the quiet between them. “It seems I misjudged you, Shallan.”

She blinked. That was the absolute last thing she’d expected to hear from him. The irritation, the defensiveness, the urge to lash out rose back like it hadn’t left at all. No shit, you did. You never bothered to ask me anything, just fucking assumed the worst of me. And then treated me like shit because of it. How dare you talk about it like some minor misunderstanding. “Get in fucking line,” she said instead, a sharp edge in the words. “You’re not the first person to do it, and you won’t be the last.”

De’San’s eyebrow twitched up. He seemed to pick up on her shift in mood. “Oh? Is that a frequent occurrence?”

“I—“ she bit the sentence off. She grit her teeth, swallowing down the barbs. She would handle this like an adult. She started again. “I’ve never been the best at communicating. I forget there are things that have to be said out loud that I know I know, but not everyone else knows I know. To me, they just seem obvious. But they’re not to other people. So I have to tell them. It’s…something I’m trying to work on. I’m trying to learn what those are. That’s why I took a few seconds to answer when you asked why I learned Vediyahn.”

“I won’t resent someone trying to improve themself,” he said. He glanced away for just a split second. “I…I also apologize for the way I’ve treated you for the past few months. I don’t expect you to accept it, and you’re under no obligation to do so. I was a bit of a bitch towards you.”

The irritation flared brighter to anger, and she clenched her jaw. She grabbed the crystal around her neck; the static nature of the Shadowfell given solid form, a jagged fragment of stagnating power. The strength of a plane, a fraction of a second away. Enough power to break the very rules governing magic at her fingertips.

It was unnerving how quickly she had settled into having her power.

“That’s the understatement of the fucking year,” Shallan snapped, forcing herself to let go of her necklace, instead pulling her hair out starting to braid it again.

“I will admit I was needlessly cruel.”

“Yeah. No shit.” She let the muscle memory take over, not entirely focusing on braiding, but the brief memory of her father patiently teaching her elven braiding styles calmed her some. She pulled a leg up, tucking her knee to her chest.

“You know, Selvi had an entire speech prepared for you, next time you went to talk to her. You did want to do that, yes?” She nodded, and he continued. “It was all about how it wasn’t personal and a whole lot of other things. But…I’d be lying if I said none of it was personal.”

“You, lying? Never.”

“You have grown a spine.” He seemed impressed for a moment before sobering again. “I’ve been losing my shit lately. My oldest daughter died, my son died, both tied up in adventuring bullshit. My other daughter is off doing ancestors know what at any given time. My brother just died for a second time.” He looked away again for a moment before continuing. “And you know about the Virki.

“I felt like I had no control over things, and I tried to regain it over something. And you were an easy target, I thought. But I don’t think we were on the same page about what I was doing.”

Shallan’s normal methods of keeping herself calm were not doing as much as they normally would. The hum of her magic sang in her veins. She ignored it as best she could. “There was a fucking page we were supposed to be on?”

“That’s what Selvi said to expect,” he said. “I was trying to goad you into fighting back. To stop looking like you wanted to die—no, like you were waiting for the world to kill you. For you to fight back at least a little bit. And the more you didn’t, the more I thought you were just refusing to change.” He stopped. And started again, a bit less sure. “And I wanted you to be better for my daughter. I know adventuring. I know what it does to people. If you weren’t willing to fight for yourself, I didn’t think you would fight for Allowyn, and I didn’t want her getting hurt because of you.”

A laugh, filled with resentment, bubbled up. “Yeah, I got absolutely none of that,” she said, lip curling. Her voice was as bitter as wormwood. “I just assumed you hated me. For whatever fucking reason, since I couldn’t think of a single thing I had done to you to warrant it.”

“I realized that a bit ago. I’m good at manipulation. I’m incredibly good at it. And you’re so bad at reading people I couldn’t.”

“Congrats, you found a thing I’m working on.”

He tilted his head. “Hm. Again, though. I do apologize for the way I’ve treated you recently. I was cruel, and you’d done nothing to deserve it. I was trying to regain control and you were simply an easy target.”

She tied off her braids again with the cord still twisted in her fingers and glared at De’San. She knew she was being a bit foolish. It was stupid to hold a grudge over this when he was an ally of the party, and—as far as a strangely significant number of people were concerned—her future parent-in-law. And yet…she’d known him four months. For three of those, he’d been nothing but the same as every single childhood bully she’d ever had, at least partially responsible for her utter lack of confidence in herself up until two weeks back. Any time he’d come to visit the safehouse for whatever reason, the prickly, fluttering feeling of anxiety would bloom behind her ribs. She’d say nothing unless spoken to, ignored the comments and not-so-harmless pranks. Said nothing, until a week before the gala, she had been sitting in her room, wondering if she would be willing to stay with Allowyn despite his actions.

Her glare sharpened. No. He had come within days of fucking up her relationship with Allowyn, one of the few good things that had come from adventuring. One of the few things making it worth it still. She’d hold on to this one. She’d allow herself this stupid, childish grudge.

He sighed. “I’m willing to be cordial if you are.”

She wasn’t inclined to forgive him. Not yet, at least. But she cared about Gerard. And she cared about Allowyn. And he was important to both of them; she could put her own dislike aside for that. “Fine. But I want you to know that the only reason you didn’t royally fuck my relationship with Allowyn is because I knew you were losing your shit.”

“Oh?” The mocking edge was back in his voice, but less than it usually was.

“Well, if two of my kids just died and had to be resurrected, one of them adventuring, I’d probably lose it. And I care more about Allowyn than your fucking child-like bullshit.”

“In her defense, she did bring it up. I did wonder what she saw in you, since you didn’t seem to care about anything.”

“And that’s again where you’re wrong about me. But you’ve found yet another thing I’m trying to fix.”

“What, caring about people or ex—“

She cut him off with another irritated expression. “Expressing it. The words never come out right, timing never works. I say it in my own ways but apparently that’s not good enough. I’m trying to figure out how to express it more. So people know.”

He smiled slightly. “I find it hard to disapprove of someone trying to improve themselves as much as you currently are.”

She didn’t return the smile. She hummed, not convinced. He’d said that two months ago, and then continued to make her life hell any time he could. She went back to fidgeting with her necklace, and the shard looped around it. She pushed herself off the crates and waited at the end of the alley for De’San, hoping he would get the hint she was done with the conversation.

He did, but as he stepped next to her, he grabbed her jacket briefly. She turned back to look at him, curious, if still pissed. And a bit conflicted. “You’re a Druid now. Eventually, there will be a point where Gerard, and Allowyn, and Sada, and myself will all be gone. And it will just be you, Selvi, and Beiro. When that comes, please just…be someone she can talk to.”

She felt some of her defensiveness melt away, her shoulders relaxing some. She nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I’ll do my best.”