All in a Day's Work

‘It’s a shame’ Yew thinks, gazing at the ruins she had only been able to see in passing. Getting the amateur adventurer party to safety took precedence over exploration and research; or so her advising professor had decreed, when Yew asked why the people she saved couldn’t just walk themselves home. It’s not like any of them were dying, or even badly injured. She didn’t think she should be obligated to escort them back just because she helped them a little bit, but so be it. The ruins would still be there later, probably; ruins had disappeared on her exactly one time, and those had been weird circumstances all around. Regardless, she could and would come back to the maze later, now that its location was marked out on her map.

Well, maybe. The maze was interesting from a structural standpoint, but she hadn’t seen or felt anything special about it when she was running along the top of the walls and cleaning out the corpses. The walls were devoid of evidence that any ancient spells were in play; not a single trace or lick of residual energy to suggest it was anything more than an old maze. If it had any purpose beyond entertainment, she couldn’t say; that aspect was more her colleague’s area of study than hers. Yew didn’t much care for the architecture of the ruins she visited other than how it affected her ability to traverse them. They were just stones in different shapes to her; she could practically hear his offended scoff in her head.

The maze aside, the only extra help the quartet of men had needed was a little curse breaking which sat far more snugly within her wheelhouse. It seems the shield-bearer had been bitten by one of the skeletons during their attempt to escape, although the wound had since been healed without so much as a scar. It would have been impressive if not for all the light-burns the aforementioned healer inflicted on himself in the process. She withheld the urge to sigh, reminding herself to be patient so as not to discourage further learning. Everyone starts somewhere. Yew just wished that she would end up as the one fixing beginner mistakes less often.

The counter for the kiss of death, as some cheeky fellow had dubbed it, is simple enough. It was one of the easier one-rune spells to draw, with only twenty-three strokes, so she had even kindly taught it to the young men on the way back to the nearest town. She could do less for the magic-induced burns, which needed the more delicate care of a professional, lest she accidentally make them worse. She could, however, pronounce that he would live.

Watching the tension bleed out of a person’s shoulders as relief took its place would never cease to amuse her. Somehow, saying “you’ll live” after everything was over caused an invisible dam to break within the people she said it to. And just like a puff pastry pulled from the oven too soon, they would completely deflate. Legs would give out, sending them into heaps on the ground; Yew often felt awkward then, uncertain if she should remain standing to encourage them, or if she should sit to let them rest. Fortunately, no one she had saved had ever been too concerned about what she was doing just then; understandably, they were far more occupied with the exhilaration of escaping death.

No fainting today, thankfully. Just a slow walk back on aching feet. They would make it to town well before sunset though, which was all Yew cared about. With so many undead in the area, ghosts after dark were a guarantee. The basic incorporeal undead weren’t much stronger than the skeletons, but they were a bigger pain to deal with. Floating aside, they were faster and not nearly so easy to hit. On account of the general inconveniences of fighting something that doesn’t have a body. At least the town was certain to have specter repelling lamps set up around the perimeter. Expecting a safe zone only to find that the settlement in question considers such things “unnecessary in these parts” was a point of contention between places of middling size and people that know better.

She preferred not to think of the last time she had to explain the difference between weak and harmless to a minor baron with more money than sense. Somehow, the price of lessons learned in bloodshed is seldom paid by the one that most needs to learn. In the end, her mentor had been the one to smooth that particular conversation over. Yew thought she was polite enough, but Astilbe, her friend from the architectural department, said she was probably making her you-snail-witted-fool expression when she recounted the story to him later. She didn’t think she was making any such face, but that statement had been met with immense disbelief. She hadn’t known a person’s eyebrows could be raised that high prior to that moment, but maybe that was Astilbe’s secret special talent.

Finally, their little group crested over the hill and the small town came into view. It was usual for the area, one major commercial street with room for outdoor stalls and smaller branching paths that lead to residential areas or municipal buildings. Further outward, notably in the directions away from the ruins, several plots of farmland could be seen growing thick with grain; it reminded her that harvest season was on the horizon and with it the wallet hunting expedition collegiate patronage ball. She would be expected to have some results to show for all the research she’d been doing, along with meeting any unique conditions or requests her patron set last year. Then it would be time for the November symposium and by then the year was basically over. Another year gone. She couldn’t help sighing.

“-Ms. Yew?” the mage waved a hand in front of her face bashfully, “did’ja hear me?”

She blinked, shaking her head at the chubby teen. Yew had tuned out of their conversation about a minute after it started.

“Oh, well, I was just sayin’ thanks again and how me an’ the guys are really grateful for you saving us. Ma would have brought us back herself just to kill us again if we had ended up as skeleton chow. We were jus’ wonderin’ if there’s anything we can do to pay ya back?” His hands squeezed around his apprentice spell-book a little tighter, but his smile was sincere and hopeful.

“Money.” Her reply was instantaneous.

“-uhh, huh?” The boy had seemed still before, but now he was truly frozen. “You want… money?”

“Yes. You can repay me by paying me.” She nodded for emphasis. “Whatever you can spare is fine. Ultimately, I rescued you of my own volition. Your gratitude is enough, but if you want to repay me, money is the best way.”

Standing in the middle of the road, blazing sun just beginning to dip into the first hues of sunset, she held out her hand and smiled. Research doesn’t pay for itself, after all.

***

Sitting at her desk several days later, she was recounting her trip and findings about the maze for her fellow researchers informally while organizing the written report she would submit to the department head. She checked it over one last time before sliding the papers into a plain file folder with her name and the date pre-labeled on the tab. When the professor was done reading it she would file it with other reports written about the maze ruins. Not that Yew had anything revolutionary to add, but confirmation about what isn’t there can be just as useful as knowing what is. If nothing else, she had confirmed a lack of any latent spells that might cause trouble for another researcher down the line. It was practically benign and almost congenial compared to some of the ruins she’d been in, if not for how it seemed to accidentally accumulate hordes of the less agile undead.

Perhaps Astilbe would visit them himself someday, if he could ever peel himself off the corner of her desk he was wheezing on. She wasn’t sure yet what he found so funny, but she knew he would tell her as soon as he figured out how to breathe correctly again. He turned his face towards her, long golden strands falling into teary brown eyes overflowing with mirth. Just when it seemed he was calming down, he looked into her confused eyes and burst into another round of laughter. His reaction served as a beacon, drawing others over to see what it was about, or perhaps, just to listen to the sound. It was quite a pleasant and warm laugh, Yew had observed others turning to hear it better in the past.

Viola, at the desk nearest to hers, was far more composed. She heard the same story but she hadn’t laughed nearly as much; at most, a few quiet chirps hidden behind a hand or the occasional stack of papers. The soft spoken brunette seemed more amused by Astilbe’s attempt to asphyxiate himself and blame Yew for it than she was by whatever he was still chuckling about.

Salix sauntered her way out from the kitchenette, steaming herbal tea in hand.

“Okay, I’ll bite. What happened this time?” She moved to lean against the unassigned pedestal desk in front of Yew’s that Astilbe had already stolen the chair from. She crossed one leg over the other with a steady familiarity that oozed confidence and took a languid sip from her mug. The steam lightly fogged the round glasses perched on her nose. Astilbe tried to respond but he was too busy gasping every other word and tripping over his own amusement so in the end Salix had turned to hear the story straight from Yew.

Once again she recounted how she decided to make a trip to the famed maze ruins of Greenfield; she brushed over her encounter with the horde, spent most of her time talking about the ruins themselves and their utter lack of useful material for her research, then, almost as an afterthought, mentioned her rescue of the four adventurers and subsequent acquisition of unexpected extra funds. Enlightenment dawned over Salix’s face before her lips promptly pulled tight in the way that suggested she was trying very hard not to laugh. She was doing an admirable job until Astilbe made eye contact with her and then both of them were looking at Yew’s growing bemused pout. Salix’s curtain of dark purple hair fanned over her shoulder as she turned her head to cackle, descending into temporary hysteria along with the interloper from another department that Yew was beginning to regret entertaining.

But then he looked up at her, lifting his head to prop it atop his palm. There was no bite behind his eyes, no trace of mockery, only an unbearable fondness that her eyes had to flick away from.

“It’s funny because you basically robbed them in broad daylight,” he explained. “Our resident savior of the lost, the one and only Ghost Shepherdess herself, shaking her newest fans down for pocket change and immediately disavowing them of any idealizations they might’ve had. I can practically see their shocked faces in my head-” he broke into more laughter. Instead of words, he widened his eyes and mimed frantically pulling his wallet out to give her, pretending to fumble it a bit on the handover. “They were likely expecting you to waive off repayment, or ask for some small favor in return, but instead you emptied their pockets. I just wish I had been there to see it myself.”

She hadn’t considered how the interaction would look out of context, but put that way she could see the humor in it.

“Oh, well,” her eyes cut back to his, mischief curling up inside, “for the record, your impression was very accurate.”

The next time laughter broke out amongst them she was able to join in earnest, adding her own half-giggles to the mix. It was rather warm for a day near the start of autumn; a small smile curving the line of her lips.