Foolish young men

Osthryn’s walk through the city has cleared her mind somewhat. She resolved that even if Silovar were inexplicably and unjustifiably missing after she shared the depths of her memories and fears with him, at least Mountainkeep was the South. She cannot allow herself to completely disregard the reality of her newfound freedom in her new home simply because of some pretty young mage (Southern Dragon, but that distinction is not helpful to her resolution).

The very next morning challenges that resolution with the presence of Silovar’s coat hanging inconveniently prominent over the chair opposite her. It shifts its position almost as if it has a life of its own, Osthryn grumbles to herself. At first it was neatly folded and placed atop the chest on the foot of her bed. Then, she moved it to hang in Oswald’s study, where it would not continue to remind her of Silovar’s absence. Martina, or Oswald for all she knows, must have decided that having it in full view of her at least once a day was necessary, for it soon found itself either hanging beside the kitchen door or over the chair opposite her each morning.

Osthryn is sure that if Dragons were blessed with firesight she would have burned holes into the coat with her eyes by now. She cannot fathom why the coat angers her, or even why Silovar’s disappearance affects her so. It cannot simply be the embarrassment, nor that she misses him. Could it be that this was what being "smitten" felt like?

Osthryn blinks, there was no reason for her to invent feelings when what she could identify immediately was sufficiently inconvenient. Her head feels like a thick mire through which her thoughts strain to tread. She has resolved to continue as normal without him here, to stop obsessing over her confusion. She cannot allow the mere presence of a coat to undo that progress.

She jumps when the leg of her chair is jolted with the force of Oswald’s staff slamming against it.

 “Oswald!" Martina scolds, her hand over her chest where she stands at the teakettle, evidently startled as much as Osthryn is by Oswald’s abrupt bid to gain Osthryn’s attention.

Oswald rounds on Martina, leaning the tip of his staff toward Osthryn. "If I have to endure one more minute of this child staring holes into that bloody coat, I swear," he turns his gaze to Osthryn, brown eyes blazing under the bushy eyebrows, forehead crinkled into a frown, "I shall drag her to the central square of the Temple district and have her breathe fire upon it for the whole of Moutainkeep to witness!"

Martina shakes her head. "Oswald, dear, no matter how dearly you disagree with how Osthryn sulks at Silovar’s absence, you have no reason to startle me so."

Osthryn’s eyes flit between the two of them. A small part of her wishes to resent Martina for not taking her side, but in all fairness, her sulking must have become tiresome.

Osthryn levels her gaze at Oswald. "Dragons do not breathe fire, Oswald."

Oswald’s eyebrows raise up. "I did not think that you were both a troubled Dragon and a defective one, Osthryn!" 

"Oswald!" Martina scolds again. Oswald and Osthryn look at her. "If you insist on arguing so loudly, take her on a walk and leave me to my tea-leaf readings in peace!"

Osthryn is stunned. No ally to be found in Martina this morning, then.

Oswald sighs, then grabs Osthryn by the elbow, helping her semi-willingly to her feet. "Come, girl, and hop to it! You heard my good lady wife. It is best we not disturb her, lest our leaves read unfavourably!"

Osthryn hesitates. "I am not burning anything," she says.

Oswald hardly slows on his way to the door. "Foolish girl! Come!"

With a roll of her eyes, she follows him out of the door. She only just keeps in step with Oswald as he strides purposefully down the road to the southern gate where they first entered Mountainkeep all that time ago.

 “You know that I am no child, Oswald,” Osthryn remarks after a stretch of silence. 

Oswald doesn’t look up at her. “You are acting no better than one since Silovar left.”

Osthryn sighs. "I apologise, Oswald. I agree that I should be more considerate with my moods."

They continue to walk in silence. The path along the river is quiet, but the river itself is anything but. The rains of early summer had begun falling in the past week. The rushing water was thick with the mud it carried. The path dips under the shade of trees, and eventually they climb to an elevation in the landscape. The waterfall crashes loudly over rocks, the rapids hungrily swallowing them before tumbling violently downstream. Oswald takes up a seat on a fallen log to watch the water, motioning for Osthryn to sit beside him. She obliges. The spray of the water rushing close below her feet brushes at her skin.

“When I was a foolish young man,” Oswald begins, breaking the monotonous rushing of the water, “I would spend many a spring and summer rowing these very rapids. Days on end, if my apprenticeship allowed it. I was good at it, good enough to believe that I was invincible. I could read the rain, I could read the current, and I had full confidence that I knew when was safe to brave it and when was best to just sit beside the water and marvel at its power.”

Osthryn watches Oswald as he speaks, a wistful absence in his face. He continues, “One year, a beautiful redhead with impeccable magical talent happened to cross paths with me. Oh, how I became a fool for her. That Martina loved me then and loves me still is evidence of the gods’ blessing. It was on a day such as this. The rain had poured long and hard, the rapids were at their fastest, and I was determined to impress her with how I had mastered them.”

Oswald smiles as he talks about Martina, but his face falls as he stares at the rushing water. “I nearly killed her. In my haste and my pride, I misread the water. It was not long before we were capsized, and she was pulled under and swept from me faster than I could catch her. She would have been lost if the Silver Dragon did not sweep in and pluck her from the water as quickly as she sank. It was on that day that we met Silovar.”

Oswald leans forward, both hands on his staff. “I managed to pull myself from the water. I watched with guilt and relief as Silovar revived her. It struck me, that a man so young would have hair so silver. It struck me further still that a Dragon could take on a human shape. He did not even give me his name then, he simply disappeared once Martina drew breath. I was so relieved to have her alive. I held her so tight, but once I had taken her home, my guilt was so great that for days I could not find the words to speak to her.”

 “What did you do? You are married now, so you did make contact again,” Osthryn probes softly.

A breathy chuckle erupts from Oswald’s chest. He smiles absently at the water. “I eventually gathered the courage to ask how she fared, tail between my legs like a dog. Do you know what she said to me?”

Osthryn shakes her head.

“She said I was the best rower she’s ever met, joked that none could ever row her as close to the river of the dead as I did,” Oswald’s face was split into a grin. "Martina had every right to refuse me, she could have her pick of the young mages and scribes that flocked around her. Yet she forgave me."

Oswald turns to Osthryn. “I was a young and foolish man. Silovar is not so young, and he is but a mite foolish, but he is not so foolish as to abandon you. Rest assured. He will be back. Just make sure you have forgiven him by then."

 “Oswald... I,” Osthryn starts, but Oswald cuts her off.

“Young lady, I was not born yesterday. You walk as if on a cloud when he has visited you. As for Silovar, he has never visited the Library as often as he does since you have arrived, and he certainly had not had nearly as many excuses for tea-drinking at my house before then either."

The corners of Osthryn’s mouth twitch into the ghost of a smile before she sighs, staring at her hands. “Oswald, I do not know what this is.”

Oswald watches her a moment before pulling himself up from the log with his staff. "For a woman of the world, with years such as yours," he says, his eyes shining knowingly, “you know shockingly little.”