laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

"Sceva, wake up or you'll be late."

Sceva heard the call from downstairs, but didn't move. He lay in bed, just as he had for the last several hours. He stared at the rafters above his head, their familiar pattern of thatch peeping out. He could hear Trista and Vicana downstairs, moving around, making preparations for breakfast and the day to come. He didn't really want conversation right now, no matter how mundane and mindless. "Silence would be wonderful," he thought.

"Sceva!"

There was a pause, then the call came again. He knew it was inevitable, but still he hoped that somehow they would just take the hint and go on without him. It was not to be.

"Sceva?" This time, Trista was a bit softer. She was getting worried, and her voice demonstrated it. Her head popped up through the stairwell into the loft. "Sceva, are you all right? Didn't you hear me calling to you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sceva replied, "I heard you. I just don't feel like going today. Can't we go celebrate quietly, privately, somewhere else? I'm sure the others won't mind. They probably wouldn't even notice that we weren't there."

"Silly goose, of course they'll notice. Not only is it the first day of Spring and one of the church's biggest festivals, it's your birthday!" She paused a moment, trying to read his face. As usual, it was totally devoid of hints. "What's wrong, Sceva? What's bothering you?"

"Nothing. I just don't feel like going, that's all."

"Don't lie to me, young man," she said gently. "You've been moping around up here for days, and it's not over nothing." She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'd like to help, if I can."

A warm scent like spiced honey filled Sceva's nostrils as she sat down. She leaned over and brushed a lock of his hair out of his eyes. Her posture, leaning against one arm while lifting the other, caused the square neck of her dress to gap open slightly. Sceva found that his eyes were drawn to her cleavage without any hope of resistance. Trista bore the figure of a woman much younger than her 38 years. What he could see of her bosom appeared so smooth, so inviting. He looked up into blue eyes brimming with tender care and love. A rainbow of flowers filled her braided, blonde hair. In a heartbeat, a world of images filled his mind: he was her husband; there would be children, a boy and a girl, and they would live together in a small cottage on the shores of Lake Fribboth just outside Sonvico. They would spend their days and nights together...

His mind suddenly broke through and regained control. She was very persuasive when she wanted to be, he thought, but she was being a bit unfair about it at the moment. Trista was known all over the Kingdom of Baden as a true master craftswoman with plants and herbs, and Sceva finally recognized that smell. She had apparently just finished a salve with an extremely potent mixture of plants, probably for the woman that visited yesterday who needed help conceiving a baby. He wondered for a moment how much of that effect was accidental, since she was the one always lecturing him about being careful of side effects when preparing the various lotions, salves, and draughts. Damn her unfair advantage! She knew exactly how to break through his defenses, and purposely prepared the remedy this morning after she knew he was brooding.

Sceva sat up, forcing her to retreat some, and then swung his legs over the edge of the bed opposite her. He stood to reveal that he was fully dressed - he had been for hours before the cock crowed its first notice of the dawn. He proceeded to the wash stand and washed his face, as much to clear his nose as anything else, and turned to face Trista.

"How old was I when you and Vicana took me in?"

"You were still an infant. Why?

"You and Vicana have always told me that it was Elminoir's will that I be her servant, and that is why my parents brought me here instead of taking me to the orphanage of Arhus or the heights of the mountains to die."

"That is true. We believe just as strongly that She willed for us to be your parents, which is why we took you to raise as our own son."

"Then why is it that today, of all days, I feel like She has abandoned me? Or worse, that She isn't even there to abandon me?"

Trista paused a long time, looking up into his face.

"Perhaps because it was on this day that you came to us here," Vicana said from the stairwell. Neither of them had seen or heard her enter the room, which wasn't entirely surprising. Vicana was extremely light on her feet and in her sleep, a combination of gifts that kept a certain teenage boy out of the trouble that his peers were in constantly. "I think it would be normal for you to have some feeling of abandonment on this day."

"That's not really it, though. You've both been wonderful and I couldn't ask for more. No, I mean that sometimes I feel like there's no one there when I pray - like Elminoir doesn't really even exist." There. Finally, the dreaded statement was out in the open. He waited for the statement to sink in, for gasps of horror that never came.

Trista smiled. "Oh, that," she said. "That's normal. Happens to me all the time."

"Yeah, me too," Vicana added. "I think everyone goes through that from time to time, don't you think, Trista?"

"Certainly. Sceva, I'm glad you told us. You're sixteen today, but we've been wondering when you would go through this for about three years now. Do you remember what we taught you about faith?"

"Faith is what bridges the gap between what we can know through our reasoning and what we can experience through the Gods."

"Exactly," Vicana said. "So can you think of a reason why Elminoir might want to withdraw her presence from you periodically?"

Sceva shrugged. He only had about three hours of sleep in him; this wasn't really the time for him to be doing mental gymnastics.

"If you constantly feel Her presence, wouldn't that count as sensory evidence that contributes to your logical understanding? Where, then, is the gap for faith to bridge?"

"Exactly," Trista said. "There will always be a gap - a leap of faith - that is necessary for you to really have a relationship with Elminoir. Sometimes, that bridge of faith needs strengthening, purifying."

"Do you remember the last time we went to the alchemist's shop?" Vicana asked.

"Sure I do. He was making ingots of silver that we were going to bring back for use here in the compound."

"How did he get the impurities out of the silver?"

"He melted it down."

"Exactly."

Trista and Vicana waited a moment for their point to sink in, then they turned and started back down the stairs.

"Breakfast is ready. Come on down so we won't be late for the festival."

Sceva just stared after them for a long moment. Trista's head popped back up through the stairwell.

"Oh, and Sceva? Happy Birthday."