Epilogue

Pain came and went, like angry waves hitting the shore in stormy weather, accompanied by disjointed flashbacks of something rocking left and right, up and down, and each time that happened an intense desire to vomit followed.

She woke up and noted, with considerable confusion, that she was lying in bed. An actual bed. With a soft mattress. And duvets. And the sheets seemed to smell nice. Lavender… or rose?

She tried to shake her head, to restore some clarity, but the pain returned instantly. It was now hard to be sure what was reality and what wasn't. The nausea, pain and lightheadedness were all a part of this reality. Or perhaps not. The fragmentary flashes of consciousness, when she was being awakened by somebody almost forcing her to drink some water. It was likely it was a woman, as each time it happened, a flowery scent followed. She couldn't tell if this really happened or not, and if it did, for how long it was going on.

She strained her senses, trying to punch through the thick mist of pain.

There were... voices. Three of them, echoing from somewhere to the left? One was female, with a thick accent, but very different to her own. Islander woman?

The second voice belonged to a male. He spoke in long and convoluted words, but his voice was surprisingly pleasant and melodic to the ear. It was the voice of someone who didn’t abuse the leaf or drink, or maybe never even used these, unlike the people she always hung out with.

The third one… yes, the third one she knew all too well. That one sounded like... certainly not hoomin-like. It was coarse, domineering and very much devoid of emotion. Just thinking of it invoked painful memories. It was the voice of that Makone guy.

He and the other male voice were talking for quite some time. The female was merely adding to the conversation. The men were engaged in a heated exchange, sometimes arguing, sometimes agreeing but it was the pleasant voice that seemed to constantly switch between being particularly offended over something, excited or bored. Olga decided to try to get to those three and possibly discover what is going on. She first tried to sit.

Someone dressed her in loose linen trousers and a shirt. She blinked a few times and then rubbed her eyes. It helped, so she took a long look around the room. It was dimly lit with some bivolight filtering through a blinded glassless window. There was her bed, wooden, simple and sturdy. There was a sizable closet on the opposite wall, and next to it - a low table, on which there were some white towels and a clay bowl filled with some liquid, possibly water. Her own clothes, meticulously folded, neatly arranged and probably laundered, were on a stool, next to her bed, along with the weapons she had on her when she was captured. And… there was also her old, maargardian sword, which she lost during her first encounter with the nord, simply propped against the wall.

She stood up, fighting the dizziness, and took a step towards the next room, which was separated from her own with a colourful curtain. She reached it in three unstable steps, and probably twice as many drips, and she could now finally discern words. She slid the curtain off and, predictably, saw Makone alongside his islander companion and a third person, which was… was that a tanai?

She heard of them, she had seen them in passing every so often, sure, but never met one in person. Which wasn’t all that surprising, as she spent her entire life either among farmers or brigands. And now… one of them was right here. Alive. Floating in the air, dressed in a light blue robe which was gently fluttering and flowing, moved by gusts, which she couldn't feel. She leaned against the doorframe in clear sight of everyone. The Islander woman saw her, and sent her a friendly smile, acknowledging her existence. A friendly smile. After all she did to her. Olga decided not to trust her for the time being and concentrated on the other two who didn't seem to notice her yet as they were busy arguing. The tanai was currently frowning aggressively and looking at Makone as one would look at a misbehaving child.

- “You told us you ordered your men to kill her!”

- “I lied.” - replied the nord, maintaining a perfectly straight face - “I needed yours Craft as a failsafe, and as it turned out, rightfully so. Yous have made yourselves exceedingly hard to lure out of the Spire recently.”

- “That’s… preposterous! We are always available for research!”

- ”My notes of yours behaviour in the last six years suggest otherwise.”

- “Wait, what? You are making notes of us….” - the tanai paused for a precious drip, and then finished the sentence in his 'duh, it's obvious' tone -”... of course you do.”

- “Yours rejection rate under the guise of ‘we are conducting research’" - continued the nord unabashedly - "...has steadily risen from 21% to 47% over the last six years.”

- “We are conducting important research!...”

- “...yes, important research..." - interrupted Beorg - "...which is, no doubt, important.”

Anh looked at him with his lips pressed into a thin line. This was the closest the ancient aberrant came to sarcasm in years.

- “A fair point. Nonetheless you could have just said what is the case!”

- ”The odds for this talent to be lost, or worse yet, let loose again were too great. Yous needed motivation.”

The aberrants kept on arguing, either not noticing or outright ignoring Olga, who by then waddled across the room in the direction of a wooden bench and then sat on it heavily. Then she gazed tiredly at both men.

- “Oh I see, ya too...”- she said, pointing weakly at them -“ya too arr marrid.”

The aberrants looked at her and then Anh glanced at Beorg with comically raised eyebrows, ignoring the muffled snickering coming from Maanica.

- “Not quite. It's complicated. But our fates are, at this point, inseparably linked.” - said the nord.

- “That! Yes. Only in this case the ‘till death do us part’ is not quite forthcoming.” - added the tanai sarcastically.

- “So wot do ya want wiff me?” - Olga cut to the chase.

- “Ask your new owner.” - replied Beorg, gesturing with his head at Anh, who opened his eyes in shock and started to frantically wiggle his earlobes in protest.

- “No! Of course not! That is horrible. Why would you… “ - he only just started his passionate defence, when he noticed Beorg’s face, adorned with a smug smile. Which in case of the nord meant corners of his lips were raised by a smidgen. He exhaled loudly, and then faced Olga and started gesturing - “Anyway. We. We mean I… I mean 'we', with the exception of him I guess...” - he pointed at Beorg - “So we are here because of your gift. As we, and by 'we' we mean I, want to study it.”

The muffled giggling became louder as Olga sat there, blinking and looking from one aberrant to the other.

- “Whaa?” - she stumbled finally.

- “He wants you to go with him and stay at his palace. To poke you in certain places and explore your talent to see why it is so desirable.” - flatly said Beorg.

- “Yes. Yes. That!” - Anh shouted excitedly - “For science!”

- “Whaa?!” - Olga was too horrified and confused to utter anything but this one word - "Wh… whaa?!"

Maanica finally couldn't hold it any longer.

- “Nuh inna way yuh tink.” - she said between gasps of laughter - “Master Anh means... actual furugh science… nutten dutty.”

- “Ah yes, yes of course!”- added Anh, looking at the islander with a hurt expression -”Everything with consent. Obviously!”

It finally began to make sense. Olga sat there maybe for about a triskol, thinking, while the tanai mentally chewed on his fingernails.

- ”An' wot if I refoos?” - she said finally.

- ”You can pick your gear right now and leave. Of course!” - replied Anh, slightly deflated but still hopeful.

- “Wel den, fuk ya, eh… misturr?”

- “Anh." - the tanai's voice sounded grim - "Anh Trawins.”

- “Fuk ya misturr Anhtrawins. I'm off once dis hedaik goes away. An' am getten proper shitfaced.”

-*seems counterproductive* - scoffed Tow.

-*and highly illogical* - added Thernohh - *what is the point of getting rid of one headache only to replace it with another* these hoomin…*

-*oh do be quiet* - interrupted Greoo, because Olga chose this moment to pick herself up, leaning against the wall. Then she took a deep breath and started shuffling her feet towards her room. She was almost halfway there, when Beorg stopped her.

-”If you refuse, you will be under the constant watch of my agents. Every step you take, every move you make...”- he said, in his usual monotone voice - ”...somebody will be watching you. If you draw too much attention, or deal with the wrong people, I will get you killed.”

Olga stopped in her tracks. That fearful feeling came back with full force. She swayed slightly, turned to look at Beorg and observed him for a short while without a word, searching for any signs of a bluff, but she found none. He wasn't even looking back at her, only staring at the ceiling.

- ”Way dafuk arr ya so... obsessed? Wat hev I dun to ya?”

- ”You did nothing.” - he replied.

Olga looked around the room at the remaining two people, hurt and confused, and opened her mouth, but words failed her.

- “This is not personal." - added the nord after a few drips of heavy silence - " It is about what you can do. The last time someone with the gift we expect you to possess was let loose, hundreds of innocent people died, thousands were injured, entire towns were pillaged or burned. An entire region almost collapsed. And the Empire went to the brink of a civil war.” - he finished, looking at Anh, whose face became awash with guilt. Olga still didn't know what to think or say, so she just stood there with her mouth wide open.

-”You could argue that most of that could have been avoided if Anhs and I managed the situation better." - continued Beorg, leaning forward and putting his elbows on his knees. Then he took a deep breath and looked straight at, or maybe even through, Olga - "I am not willing to make the same mistakes again.”

An ominous silence fell. Maanica just sat silently, pretending to be busy with her fingernails. Anh watched the southerner with a mixture of guilt and worry on his face. Olga on the other hand just stared at Beorg with a look of a startled deer on her face. Her heart was beating so loud, she was sure everyone could hear it.

-”Ya dun giff me no choice, do ya?” - she finally stuttered out.

-”No. I don’t”

Olga turned about and unsteadily returned to the bench. She glanced at each of the people in turn, trying to read them and understand what exactly just happened. Maanica was looking back at her, with a sadness on her dark face. Beorg predictably looked elsewhere and was totally switched off. Anh seemed very uncomfortable. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a few seconds, then spoke, directing her words to Anh.

-”So, bossichka, were are we dun gone?”