Book Two - Chapter Twenty

The food in the Littlerun inn was quite good. Far from the best Lusya had ever had, but good. She would not have had a problem paying a little more than was typical for the quality. Of course, she was not about to object to getting a free meal either, as it had been given as thanks for driving away the bandits.

Part of Lusya wanted to get back on the road right away. To get Ariya back as soon as possible. But they had already used up time fighting. Getting in a meal and rest afterward was a good idea, and it was already close to when they would have stopped for the night anyway, so they were not losing much additional time.

Although this free food was ostensibly part of a larger celebration, there was little merriment to speak of. The inn was almost silent. It was not empty. Far from it, in fact. Plenty of townspeople sat around the dining room, filling every seat available, eating and drinking to their hearts’ content. Sweet, alluring scents danced in the air with the clicking and clacking of mugs and utensils. The people spoke in hushed tones, however, when they did at all. There was no shouting, no music, no reveling. That all suited her just fine, but it was not expected of a typical celebration.

She supposed it was natural they would be solemn. Although Ander and Lusya had driven away the bandits, they had still killed several people, injured plenty more, and burned down more than a few homes. Even many of those still standing were too wrecked to be used. The damage had been less than the cloud of smoke on the way in might have suggested, but the town had not escaped unscathed. It was perhaps not the brightest idea for them to be wasting time and resources on this celebration, but Lusya was not going to stop them, and their insistence had overwhelmed Ander’s resistance.

Ander himself had gotten out of the fight well enough. He sat across from her, slurping up his stew’s broth without a care in the world. The only wound visible with him fully clothed was a tiny cut on his cheek. He did have a few more scratches and bruises dotting his body, but nothing significant. The bandits had been too weak to do much to him. He probably could have handled things alone. Yet she found that she did not regret helping him.

“What?” he asked suddenly. “Why are you staring at me?”

“I am not,” she said. “I happened to be looking in your general direction while thinking.”

“Oh.” He took another bite of food. “That’s okay, then. Not that I would mind if you were staring at me.” He sighed. “Really, though, you’re way too strong. I almost feel like I should ask you to teach me instead of going to the Academy.”

“I see no reason why those options would be mutually exclusive,” she said. “If all goes well, we will be traveling together for several more months. But I doubt me teaching would be very productive.”

“Why not?”

“I do not know how to teach motomancy.”

She did not think herself much of a teacher of anything, for that matter, but Ariya’s Fyemish lessons were going well, and even her Slarvish seemed to be improving through their reading and conversations. Though with only one example, it was difficult to say if Lusya was a better teacher than she had expected or Ariya a better student.

Ander shrugged. “You’ve gotta start somewhere, right?”

Lusya nodded. “I suppose. Perhaps I will consider it after we have retrieved Ariya.”

“Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “I was just joking, but I won’t complain if you really want to. I’ll just have to make sure Ma—my teacher doesn’t find out.”

“I see.”

She had not picked up that he was joking that time. They were both silent for a moment, returning to their meals.

“Are you sure you won’t tell me who taught you?” he asked. He gave a vague gesture toward the door. “I’m really curious where you learned all that.”

“It was my father,” she said. “I will offer no more details than that.”

Technically, it had been her father and several of his subordinates. Her actual fighting style, for example, bore more resemblance to that of a female demon named Danfia than to Father’s, though he had taught Lusya the basics of swordsmanship. She had learned motomancy from a combination of mentors, and the same went for many other topics. The only thing he alone had taught her was how to call Miudofay. It was, however, still the truth to say that her father had taught her. She did not begrudge his delegation. He had been a busy man, and she was likely stronger for it. Danfia’s techniques, for instance, likely suited her better than Father’s would have. Lusya had never wanted for his attention or company either.

“He must be pretty impressive himself,” Ander said, looking contemplative.

Despite the tightness in her chest, Lusya nodded. “He was.”

“Oh…I’m sorry,” he said.

“There is nothing for you to apologize for,” she said.

He hesitated a moment, poking with his spoon at a chunk of meat floating in his broth. “Is your mother still okay?”

“I do not know,” she said. “I have not seen her since I was young. I remember little of her.”

Ander nodded in understanding and scooped the meat he had been playing with into his mouth. Once he had finished that bite, he pursed his lips and they quivered, as if he were struggling to keep some words inside.

"Your parents,” he said slowly, “were they…your real parents?”

She cocked her head and blinked twice. “As opposed to what?”

“Adoptive,” he said. “Maybe something like you and Ariya.”

“Ariya does not consider me her mother,” she said. “Nor do I see her as a daughter.”

She had thought of Ariya as “her child,” in the past, but that had been to differentiate Ariya from other children not in Lusya’s care. It was not a categorization as family.

“I can tell,” Ander said. “But that’s because she already has a mother. If you had met her a little earlier, or if she had lost her parents earlier, it’s easy to imagine that you might both feel differently, right?”

Lusya shook her head. “Not particularly.”

She doubted there were any circumstances under which she might have seen Ariya as a daughter. Lusya could not be as confident the other way around, as she did not know enough about parent-child bonds to know if it would ever have been plausible for Ariya to feel that way. Lusya’s relationship with her father did not seem a good reference, and her mother was a non-entity. Still, it did not seem like a strong possibility.

“Well, take my word for it that it’s possible,” he said.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure how to explain it,” he said. “But I think that at least she might have felt that way.” He shrugged. “Then again, I’m not an expert on these things. This is just my hunch.”

“I see.”

“So, I was thinking maybe your ‘parents’ were the same.”

She blinked twice again. “On what basis did you arrive at that assumption?”

He chuckled and scratched his head. “I’m honestly not sure. I just started thinking that somewhere along the way. I take it I’m wrong?”

She nodded. “They are my birth parents.”

“Good to know,” he said, with an oddly pensive frown. After a moment, he smiled again. “Sorry for prying again. We kind of got sidetracked. Would you really teach me motomancy?”

“You are the one who changed the subject,” she said. “But yes.”

It seemed doubtful that Ander would become an enemy at this point. Even if he did, she could not teach him anything that would make him a threat. Though the point was moot, since that wasn’t going to happen.

“Great,” he said. “I would like to be stronger before we go and fight the bandits, but that would probably slow us down, so it can wait until afterward.”

She nodded. “You are strong enough as it is. So long as you coordinate with me and do not do anything foolish, you will be fine.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said with a small chuckle. “But it is hard not to be dumb sometimes.”

“I had noticed.”

He snickered again. “Speaking of motomancy, are you in the ‘positive emotions themselves enable it’ camp or the ‘opposite of Malice’ camp?”

“The former,” she said, “it is the simplest explanation, given the lack of evidence for the latter.”

He nodded, frowning. “I can understand that. But the second option just feels like it makes more sense, you know?”

“No, I do not know.”

“Besides, it would be kind of sad if only Malice existed. If only things like fear and anger could have a…force.”

She cocked her head and blinked twice. “Would motomancy itself not be that force?”

Ander was quiet for a moment. “I guess it would. Huh.”

“Although, I do not see why you require something to be emitted to validate your emotions,” she said.

He sighed. “It’s not really about validation. It’s…hard to explain.”

“Try. I am curious to hear it.”

He hummed in thought as he chewed another bite of food. “Well,” he said, his voice muffled before he swallowed, “I guess it would just be kind of sad. Like the things behind Malice carry more weight in the world. That doesn’t mean I value other emotions less, and I think the world would be a dull place without the ones that make Malice, but it’s still not a pleasant thought. That motomancy thing is good though. I might have to think about that some more.”

“I see.”

He smiled at her for some reason and nodded. Then, he clapped his hands together.

“Well, enough of that,” he said. “It’s time for day three of the make Lusya laugh challenge!”

Days one and two had been abject failures. She did not have high hopes for day three.

“It seems I cannot dissuade you from this foolishness,” she said, “so very well.”

“It’s way too soon to give up,” he said with a grin. “I’ve got a good one today. So, a man comes home with a painting. The most lifelike portrait you’ve ever seen, framed in solid gold. It cost a fortune. The portrait is of a woman. The man’s wife sees him coming in with is and immediately goes to confront him.

“‘Who is this?’ she demands, furious.

“The man looks confused. He’s about to explain, but his wife keeps going.

“‘How could you have a painting made of another woman?’ she shouts. ‘And this one, at that. Look at her, she’s hideous. She looks like she has a heart of ice, and she’s so ancient she belongs in a graveyard! Well, don’t you have anything to say?’

“The man thinks on this for a moment and finally replies, ‘I’m glad we agree, but you could have told me before your mother’s birthday.’”

Lusya blinked. “That was not a good one.”

“You didn’t like it?”

“It was not amusing,” she said.

“What didn’t you like about it?” he asked.

She blinked again. That was a surprisingly difficult question. Jokes often did not resonate with her, but what separated this from the one the other day that she had found amusing, if only a little?

“I did not think the twist of the woman not recognizing her mother was especially clever,” she said. “And the rest was far too long for such an ending.”

“That’s fair.” He sighed. “I guess there’s always day four.”

She cocked her head and blinked twice. “Do you actually expect to succeed at this?”

“Honestly?” he said. “No, not really. But that’s no reason not to try. I’m enjoying it, actually. It’s interesting seeing how you react. But I’ll stop if you really want me too.”

“You may continue,” she said. “It is your effort you are wasting, and the time you use is not going to anything productive to begin with.” Thus far, he had always waited until the evening meal. He did joke outside of that, but that was in the course of normal conversation, so it also did not take any extra time. “At best, I will be amused, and at worst I will be indifferent to the joke. Though it is also interesting hearing what you think I will find humorous.”

He grinned. “On to day four it is, then. Well, this food isn’t going to eat itself. Let’s finish before it gets cold.”