CHAPTER 36 – The First Brush of Spring

Despite the story of what had once been her favourite book, and despite the events that had soured her love for it, Saphienne had never actually seen the sea. When the spirit took her hand – grasping her fingers with cool petals – she lacked the experience of what Celaena had described, and so the sensation of the spirit entering her body and mind was different. Where Celaena had envisioned rolling waves against a shore, Saphienne felt only the steady beat of wings…

Then the spirit surrounded Saphienne from within, and the world spun.

Except her vertigo receded as quickly as it had begun, and Saphienne found herself in a very different position than she expected. She was not drowning, nor did she feel smothered, and the field of purple and white hyacinths that stretched out before her – within her mind – glittered and softly swayed beneath the faintest flurry of melting snowflakes. Solid stone grounded her underfoot, as though she stood within in the hushed eye of a storm; and when she studied her surroundings she realised she was standing on very familiar steps, turning to see the edifice of the village library towering over the flowers.

None of what she saw was physically real. Nor did Saphienne and the spirit use words to communicate — their conversation conveyed in the pure meaning of direct experience. Yet had they done so, what they shared would have unfolded like so:

“The library is too large,” Saphienne murmured.

A tendril of rising blossoms crept onto the steps, and when Saphienne looked back she saw herself standing just beyond the stone, naked but for the flowers that grew across her skin, the gold in her eyes shining joyfully — and in confusion.

“How strange it feels, to brush against your mind… you are quite unalike most elvenkind.” Shrugging, the bloomkith bowed. “I must request a boon: to share your tongue.”

Saphienne’s attention flicked back to the flowers on the steps. “You’re asking for forgiveness, not permission.”

“Know you a better way? Let it be sung.” She smiled, more freely than Saphienne ever could. “Sing too your terms, that I must sure abide. Sing, maple-blooded: what did you decide?”

Saphienne crossed her arms. “Five rules.”

This surprised the bloomkith. “Only but five? I beg of you the first.”

“First, you will not use my body or mind without my explicit permission, freely given, sought in advance and with care for my approval.” She inclined her head. “I accept your use of my Elfish, but forbid any other such transgressions.”

“A fair demand. You shall not be coerced.”

“Second, you will not change my body or mind without my explicit, precisely defined instruction, freely given, sought–”

“I beg you, hold.” The spirit raised her hand, her smile fading. “This thing I cannot do. Know this: the ancient ways bind me to you. No oath I give may contradict their rule… but phrase your want another way–”

That was very interesting to Saphienne, who interrupted. “Then we will revisit the second.” She crossed her arms. “Third rule: you will speak plainly, without poetry.”

The spirit winced. “…If you insist. It is discomforting.”

Saphienne found she had the strength to grin. “My mind, my body — my rules.”

“Do you forbid respectful speech as well?”

The question gave Saphienne pause. “…You were using ‘you’ in the archaic form.”

“Yes.”

“I will not compel your respect.”

The spirit’s lips twisted in amusement. “Nor must you, most beloved of the bees.”

Saphienne felt intensely uncomfortable. “…No terms of endearment, please. That’s not one of the five–”

“Yes,” the spirit rolled her eyes, “I understand. What of the fourth?”

“You will answer all my questions.”

She laughed. “Where I may, in accordance with the ancient ways, I will — and would have done.” She canted her head to the side. “And your last?”

Their conversation was not proceeding how Saphienne had expected, and she thought for a moment, then steeled herself. “You must give me leal service on a task of my choosing… for a year and a day.”

She had expected the spirit to stop smiling; instead, the spirit’s smile softened, and the glow in her eyes glittered. “Are you sure that is all? I would serve you for a thousand years, and think it meagre recompense for what you have done. And…” Her smile faltered. “…Whether in your service or my own, I will be watching over you for the next eighty-six years, regardless.”

“We’ll see about that.” Saphienne contemplated her, uneasy. “You caused a great deal of harm, but… you also saved my life, and perhaps the lives of others. I’ve not forgiven you for all that you’ve done, and yet…”

“…You would not enslave me.” The spirit understood. “Nor could you, Saphienne: the willing cannot be enslaved.”

“Enough.” Saphienne glared through her inexplicable blush. “A year and a day, on a task of my choosing.”

“Name it — or do you reserve the favour?”

She had expected to have to compel the spirit, and the ease with which her terms were granted made Saphienne suspicious. “I’ll reserve it… so long as you do nothing to avoid my invocation–”

“Saphienne,” the spirit giggled, “I pledge my leal service to you, for a year and a day, whenever and however you decide — and to wait attentively for your word without subterfuge and reservation, to the fullest of my ability.” She ran her fingers through her own, dark brown, flower-speckled hair, and pushed it back behind her pointed ears. “If you doubt me, then bind me with whatever additional rules you choose. Or even ask the wizard to–”

“All right,” Saphienne shook her head. “I accept you at your word. Now tell me: why do the ancient ways prohibit my second rule?”

The spirit hesitated–

 

* * *

 

“Saphienne…?”

Iolas was standing close, resentment and worry warring in his voice as he lightly shook her by the shoulder. “…Can you hear me?”

Immediately, Saphienne felt her mind stir, words ready to be thought and spoken; so too her body felt poised to move on its own. The spirit was eager to reply. Yet true to her promise, she held back, awaiting consent from Saphienne to proceed.

Curiosity won out, and Saphienne granted her permission.

“She can,” the spirit said, opening Saphienne’s eyes. “She sees you now, too.”

Saphienne watched with detached amusement as Iolas recoiled.

Laughter escaped from Saphienne’s lips, and she felt herself bowing, moving as though in reflex. Celaena had described being puppeted as like breathing, and that description rang true to Saphienne, especially because she felt like she could–

Faylar bit his lip. “We’d be a lot more reassured if Saphienne answered.”

Saphienne smiled, nudging the spirit’s control aside. “Funny you should say that, Faylar…”

He looked to Iolas, who was studying her eyes. The older boy nodded. “Your eyes are still yellow… but I see more green in them. Are you in control?”

Saphienne looked down at her blood-soaked, torn robes, and her smile took on a fragile edge of self-awareness as she shivered. “That’s not an easy question to answer… but the spirit is doing what I tell her to. At least for now.” She met his gaze again. “We were talking — or not talking, but… communicating. I need a minute.”

Faylar threw up his hands. “Saphienne, we don’t have time! My mother could be–”

The spirit wanted to cut in, and did so with Saphienne’s consent. “Fear not, child of elves: your Wardens of the Wilds will not find this place. The breach made in the thorns has already healed, and the fascination remains — and will remain, until my kith and kin decide otherwise.” She shrugged. “If you wish to avoid their attention, to wait here is better than to flee.”

Faylar relaxed, if only a little. “…Well, if you’re telling the truth…”

Saphienne spoke up. “I feel like she is — I can get more answers, if you wait.”

Iolas, meanwhile had been listening closely. “She’s not speaking in meter, or rhyme. Was that only for the test?”

Within, the spirit pouted…

…And without, Saphienne’s lips twitched. “I’m making her talk normally. She blindly accepted my terms.”

Having been holding back, Celaena drew away from Laewyn and approached, caught between happiness at Saphienne’s recovery and wariness toward the spirit. “Saphienne, the spirit can hear me? Can understand me?”

She – Saphienne and spirit both – nodded.

Celaena stopped a few steps away. Smoothing down her outer robes, she studied the ground for a moment, centring herself. Then her eyes locked on Saphienne’s, and her expression was furious. “Then, with apologies to Saphienne: go fuck yourself, you horrible, twisted little–”

 

* * *

 

“Now would be a good time to converse,” said the spirit, rolling her eyes as the snows around her intensified. “She has a lot of anger to express. I will pretend we are listening.”

Saphienne tried not to show her smile, but the spirit read her easily, forcing her to reluctantly acknowledge their shared amusement. “…She deserves to express it.”

“But she does not warrant our full attention,” the spirit agreed. She gestured to the layered flowers on which she stood. “Might we sit?”

Saphienne nodded, considered joining–

“You should remain on the steps,” the spirit warned her, sinking down to sit cross-legged among the hyacinths. “Better to remain on the shore than plunge into the ocean.”

Steps made for comfortable seating, at least. “Your mind runs deeper than mine?”

The bloomkith examined the edifice of the library. “…I cannot say. This representation reflects your feelings about your experiences. You said it is too large — I expect this was how the library looked when you first saw it.” Her eyes drifted down to Saphienne. “But I have not entered within. Nor is your consciousness within me: we touch only lightly. I was taught that elves flounder when out of their element, and Celaena confirmed my schooling.”

“On the subject of learning,” Saphienne insisted, “why do the ancient ways prohibit my second rule? You avoided answering.”

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“No avoiding,” denied the spirit, “only… uncertainty, in how to answer. Ask me about the ancient ways.”

“…Explain to me the ancient ways?”

The spirit offered an apologetic smile. “The ancient ways prohibit me from answering. Ask me the obvious question.”

Frustrated, but determined to follow the thread, Saphienne sighed. “Why do the ancient ways prohibit you from–”

“Because,” she answered, “elves alone may introduce their children to the ancient ways — and I cannot assist without the consent of the elf who is responsible for your teaching.”

Saphienne was beginning to discern a pattern to their exchange. “Do you know who is responsible–”

“Not with certainty.” The spirit flicked her fingertip back and forth as she iterated the possibilities. “Perhaps Almon, perhaps a priest, perhaps a member of your family, or someone else entirely. Elves decide what is appropriate, and the ancient ways uphold their decision.”

“…Can you answer questions on what the ancient ways don’t require?”

Her guile made the spirit snort. “To a very limited extent. The ancient ways–”

“–Prohibit you letting me game them, I see.” If nothing else, Saphienne respected their thoroughness. “…When I make a request, you can tell me whether it contradicts the ancient ways. How about my beliefs? Can you tell me if something I believe opposes the ancient ways?”

“Saphienne, I cannot teach you–”

“You’re not teaching me: if what I believe doesn’t oppose them, you’re not changing my perspective. And if it does oppose, you’re still not teaching me what I should think — what the ancient ways actually demand.” Saphienne leant forward. “How about it? Show ye I err?”

The spirit pondered. “…Well reasoned. I am convinced: this does not break my vows, truly, and so I may proceed in good faith.”

Pleased with herself, Saphienne clapped her hands. “I believe that elves and spirits should have a formalised relationship. Would that oppose the ancient ways?”

“No.”

“I believe such a formalised relationship should be equally binding on elves and spirits. Would that oppose the ancient ways?”

Uncomfortable, the spirit plucked at her own petals. “…No…”

“Let me restate my belief. Accounting for differences in perspective between elves and spirits, I believe such a formalised–”

With a giggle, she shook her head. “No, that does not oppose the ancient ways.”

“Then,” Saphienne asked, “would it oppose the ancient ways to believe–”

“We may dispense with the rote formality.” The spirit waved her on. “State your beliefs.”

“I believe some provisions of the ancient ways should only apply to elves, and some only to spirits.”