Candor did not return to the underground chamber. She did not know if the club had met again, or if she had been invited. She did not much care. Candor was uninclined to fight in such a way. Candor had not yet recovered from the feeling she was being torn asunder inside herself. In the small moments when she could not distract herself with studies nor physical rehabilitation, Candor found herself shaking as the memory of the many minds assailed her. She wondered if Ru were feeling something similar; Candor did feel guilty at taking control of the woman’s entire being. Candor had also considered this phenomenon and had yet to discuss it with Farn. Upon further reflection, outside the fight chamber, Candor realized how terrible her actions were. She felt dirty when she remembered how she yanked Ru further and further from herself. It seemed wrong somehow, wrong in a way that was utterly fundamental; Candor knew she had crossed a line, but she did not know what it meant. She existed in frustration.
In the weeks since she had heeded the invitation, Candor had returned to the beach, exploring further down than the rocks. She told herself it was because she wanted to see more of the island, but deep down, Candor knew she simply wanted to avoid Choah. She had spoken to him sparingly since he had defended her in the dim light of the fight club, but it had been routine pleasantries. Candor missed their banter; in its absence she could appreciate how curiously intimate it was. She watched him interact with the other students and noted how familiar he was, warm, but distant in a way he was not with her. It both frightened Candor and exhilarated her that Choah paid her such attention. Unable to reconcile it, Candor had voluntarily returned to her isolation. While some of the students had warmed to her since her attendance to their secret meeting, many had simply elected to leave her alone. This was a welcome change to the clear cold shoulder and demonstrated dislike she’d received since the whipping, but, Candor decided, it was no less lonely. She had simply grown accustomed to avoiding potential connection.
Candor sighed as she trouped up to Merigold’s class. She had been extremely attentive in the healing classes, finding the thought process and the methods more applicable than some of the other courses. Candor had attempted to return to Blyth’s spherical home a couple times, but she always found him absent. It was as if he knew she were coming. Candor had found manipulating the elements rather easy, especially in her Fae mind. She had tried very hard to begin learning the intricacies of the first language from Carza but had found herself curiously stymied. All in all, Candor felt stagnant; she wondered how the students had spent decades, even centuries here without going mad. The fight club, Candor had come to realize, was probably to have been expected.
Candor took her spot standing at a tall table in the back of the room. She waited for the other students to trickle in, a larger class than was usual today. Choah walked in with a young woman, arm cast casually around her shoulders. He smiled at Candor, who nodded back. Candor’s intuition flickered.
A loud noise echoed from the doorway, and Candor craned around the whispering students to see two young men hauling a large cage into the classroom. Squatting and grunting, they placed it on the table and turned, looking for Merigold. She appeared from behind Candor and walked towards the center table.
“Livers.” She said ominously. “Today we will be focusing on the healing of livers.”
Some in the class groaned quietly.
“If you feel you are familiar with this lesson, you may excuse yourself. But I encourage everyone here to practice, as this is an exceedingly difficult task that many fully frocked witches still have trouble with.”
Candor watched with her familiar interest and reproach. The two rodents in the cage tumbled over one another, terrified and trapped. She withdrew into her human mind so that she might not feel their fear.
“The liver is a challenging piece to heal, as it has so much to do in the body.” Merigold was saying. She continued to describe the functions, the connections, the intention required to heal it. “The liver is not a piece of skin or sinew that can simply be knit back together.” She gazed around at the class. “You must understand how it functions within the body to heal it properly, else you will simply make the problem worse.”
Candor could appreciate this. She had finally discovered her niche in the library, delving into the mundane rather than the theory of majik. Learning anatomy, botany, biology, and ecology, just as Lola had encouraged, Candor had grown an appreciation for the way the material world manifested, and thus her place within and without it. It had helped her in her introductions to natural things and the music that bound them in time.
Merigold had called up a student, who was now holding a scalpel. “Let them sleep.” Merigold admonished as the student opened the cage.
Closing her eyes, the woman, Yan was her name, Candor remembered, moved her lips slightly and the otters fell still. She pulled them out and laid them on the table, another student replacing the cage by the door.
Carefully, Yan cut into the otter’s torsos, adjusting slightly under Merigold’s tutelage.
“Gather to watch.” Merigold ordered. “Go ahead Yan, show us how you would complete this task.”
Yan explained the words she would use, the conjugations of the first language, the intentions with which she would reconnect the organ. Merigold nodded. “Do it.”
Yan closed her eyes once more and began to murmer. Candor watched the organ begin to close across the lines Yan had drawn into it. She watched as Yan’s hands stained red with the blood.
“Don’t forget,” Merigold reminded the students, “You must encourage the body to replenish its blood supply once you finish a surgery.”
Yan’s face was pale, and her neck muscles strained. Candor watched as the otter’s liver began to reopen.
“Step forward.” Merigold ordered another student. “Yan, retreat.”
Slowly but surely, the students began to cluster around the two animals. Merigold circled, coaching when necessary, praising occasionally.
Candor leaned forward on the table, growing steadily more nauseated.
“Merigold—” she finally said.
“Wait one moment, Candor.” Merigold held her hand up as if she were listening. “Give me one moment.”
Candor swallowed her comment; if they practiced any longer on these poor creatures, they would ruin them for life. It’s likely, Candor thought acidly, that they will never work the same regardless. If there were one thing Candor had come to learn about majik, it was that it should be used sparingly, and only when necessary. An overapplication of it, especially in attempts to heal something, often offered poor results. Candor was certain Merigold knew this, but having watched her lessons for months now, Candor was also certain Merigold did not care about these animals as she did.
Merigold slipped out of the open door, leaving the students to work quietly. Candor watched the practice for a moment, before stepping back and circling the progress. She stepped over to the window and looked out over the island. The morning sun collided with the shadows cast by the blue sun, the shapes of the clouds oddly sillouetted against the marble of the Citadel.
A movement behind Candor caused her to turn quickly.
“You—you—” One of the women, who had been hanging at the back of the class stormed forward, brandishing her finger.
In the space of a moment, Candor realized she was charging at Choah. She raised her hand as if to slap him, and before Candor could figure out what was happening, the woman was on the floor, blood spurting from various arteries.
The class leapt, some scurrying backwards, some charging from the room. Candor rushed towards the woman’s body, falling to her knees. She felt warm blood soak the fabric of her trousers as she surveyed the woman’s damage. Without thinking, Candor dove into her Fae mind, searching for the arterties, asking them to close. She worked silently, trying to hold what blood the woman had left in her veins. She grew tired quickly as she strove to stem the bleeding from multiple arterial tears. Candor recognized hazily that this was massive trauma, much more than she would have expected someone to be able to inflict all at once. She did not look up at Choah.
Candor heard someone drop down on the far side of the woman’s body. She sensed the woman and guided her hands over a femoral artery. “Start here.” Candor murmered. She had not needed to see her face to know the woman was Chrayse. She appreciated the help, and felt her mind focus more clearly on the additional wounds. Candor’s mind stretched outwards, asking the woman’s mind into her own. Please, Candor asked her, please shelter in here. Candor felt the woman’s mind crumbling, growing dark, and she made a decision. She pulled the woman into herself, offering her energy as she could. In the way she had heard Ru’s memories, Candor heard the echos of screams, pain, and suffering. As much as she could, Candor tried to split her own mind, carefully continuing to heal the woman’s body, while also delving into her mind, pulling out happy memories. As soon as she tried to enter the woman’s mind, Candor felt her strength sap with incredible speed.
She pulled out, unable to maintain the dual attentions. As she did so, Candor sensed an approaching presence. Without pausing to consider her actions, Candor leaned forward and shoved Chrayse as hard as she could.
The woman fell back, just as Merigold’s shriek echoed through the room. Candor ignored the witch, though she released the woman’s mind back to her own self. Slowly, Candor continued to heal the woman’s body, until, after one final burst of energy, Candor sat back, soaked in blood, exhausted. The woman did not stir, but Candor was confident in her work.
“What happened?” Merigold bent over the woman.
“She was hurt.” Candor said softly.
“Did you do this?” Merigold rounded on Candor.
Candor shook her head, too tired to speak. “I healed her.”
“I can see that.” Merigold straightened and looked around the room at the remaining students. “You two. Take her to the infirmary.” Merigold pointed at a woman next to Chrayse and another man. They moved forward, lifting the woman’s body between them.
Merigold watched them go before rounding on the class. “What happened?” She repeated. No one said a word. No one looked at Choah. Not even Candor. Candor stared at the pool of blood in which she now sat, considering the moments before she had sunk to her knees. Choah had attacked the woman, that much she knew. But why he had tried to kill her, Candor did not know.
“Candor, Candor!” Merigold’s voice broke through Candor’s haze. “Come with me.”
Candor stood, knees wobbling slightly, before following Merigold from the room. She glanced backwards to see Chrayse looking thunderstruck. Candor was too tired to smile at her.
Candor followed Merigold down the swirling staircase and trough the corridors. She wondered if she were trailing blood behind her. She did not care.
Merigold stopped in front of the large, wooden door that Candor had begun to dread as a portal. Candor opened it, leaving a bloody handprint on the door, and walked inside.
She found herself unsurprised to find every witch in the Citadel was awating her. Candor looked around, noting the reserved expressions. At least they don’t seem to be angry, Candor thought sluggishly.
“Merigold has informed us of an incident.” Douine spoke first.
How is that possible? Candor wondered. She wished they had a chair for her to sit in.
“We want to know what happened.” Douine’s voice strengthened into an order.
Candor sighed. “We were working on healing livers.” She began. “Then I walked to the window to get some air. And I turned and she was on the ground.” Candor shrugged, feeling the weight on her shoulders. “I rushed forward to begin to heal her.”
“That cannot be the whole truth.” Tabor stepped forward to consider Candor.
She did not respond.
“Neranth did not simply fall to the ground dying.” Neranth, Candor blinked, that’s her name. Candor wondered detachedly if Choah had known her name. He treated her so insignifantly. Candor remembered the way his hand seemed to have swept her away, as if he were batting a fly.
“Candor.” Farn’s voice cut through this time. “If you are protecting someone, you need to tell us.”
Candor looked at her instructor. Farn’s eyes were bright; she knew. Of course, they know, Candor thought, growing angry slowly, they know everything. And they let me walk into it all.
“She did not deserve it.” Candor spoke slowly, ensuring her words were not slurred. “She was strong.” Indeed, Candor remembered the strength she had felt in Neranth’s mind.
“You are all strong who venture here.” Carza said, exasperated. “That is the point of the trials.”
“The trials do not invite morality, however,” said Candor. “They do not screen for the good.”
“This is irrelevant.” Douine broke in. “Did you hurt Neranth?”
“No.” Candor said softly. “I did not.”
The room fell silent.
“We know it was not her, Douine.” Farn finally said, turning to the witch. Candor was somewhat surprised at her defender.
“Indeed.” Douine seemed to be considering some great and terrible truth. Her expression grew sorrowful. “But if she refuses to offer us a culprit, I cannot but act on the bloody hands.”
The rest of the witches turned to Douine, shocked. They all started speaking at once.
“Enough.” Candor was forcibly reminded of Choah’s orders in the chamber under the angel fountain. “If she refuses to expose the perpetrator, she is harboring an evildoer and as good as an accomplice.”
Carza’s mouth flattened into a thin line. Tabor looked disgusted. Merigold had paled, and Farn looked distraught. Only Blyth failed to react; he stared at Candor. She looked through him. She looked through them all. She was existentially tired, and she recognized she had failed in this game. She had allowed herself to be manipulated on all fronts. She braced for a second fight. Her time at the Citadel, Candor knew, was rapidly drawing to a close.
“I will give you one last chance.” Douine said softly. “Tell me who did this.”
Candor lifted her chin. She was not certain why she was defending Choah; she found his actions reprehensible, unforgivable even. But she had had enough of the witches.
“Then I have no choice but to expel you.” Douine crossed her arms. “Tradition dictates you walk your sword to the top of the mountain and cast it off on your way to the sea.” Douine paused. “But I suppose you already did that.”
The witches visbly relaxed, though their ire still permeated the air.
“I do hope we meet again, Candor Haelfin.” Douine nodded to Candor. “I think we will.”
Candor had nothing to say.
“There are things turning in this world that we cannot see, that cannot be unturned. Beware, halfling. You will not be safe.”
Candor inclined her head. “Thank you for your instruction.”
“Wait a moment.” Blyth’s warm voice echoed through the small room as he stepped back. He walked to the wardrobe and opened it, extracting a small box. Returning to Candor, he handed it to her. “Take this. Do not open it here.”
Candor took the box. The blood on her hands had dried, flaking off as she grasped the small parcel. “Thank you.”
“Do not thank me.” Blyth intoned. “It is not a gift. Though I am surprised you didn’t see it when you stole into our interlude.” Blythe raised one of his ruined eyebrows.
Candor did not reply. She tucked the package under her arm.
“Go straight to the sea.” Douine intoned. “You have until sundown to find a way out.”
~.~
Despite her fatigue, Candor jogged back to her room. Grateful for her own paranoia, Candor simply slipped on her boots and picked up her pack. She took one last look around her chambers. Though Candor would miss the comfort of the mattress, she was relieved to be returning to the dubious freedom of the open road. Her fish swam in circles on her nightstand. With a certainty, Candor snatched it before turning and leaving her room. Retracing her steps from so many weeks ago, Candor moved as fast as her pack and her fish allowed. Stopping outside the door, Candor stepped forward, squeezing her pack into the space, and knocked. Nobody answered. Candor sighed; she had not wanted to sneak into this room again.
As Candor began to set her pack down, the door opened and Chrayse stood in the doorway. She had cleaned herself up, and the rag in her hand was stained red.
“Here.” Candor shoved the fishbowl into her arms without ceremony. “I am leaving.”
Candor turned.
“Wait.” Chrayse, still standing in the doorway, fishbowl in hand, sounded hesitant. “Why did you do it?”
“Which?” Candor asked. She felt the minutes sliding away from her. “Steal from you?”
“Why did you save me today?” Chrayse asked.
“I didn’t.” Candor frowned. “I tried to save Neranth.”
“No.” Chrayse struggled with her words. “You shoved me. You knew what the witches would think.”
Candor sighed. “It wasn’t intentional.”
Chrayse shook her head, disbelieving. “You didn’t turn him in.”
Candor shrugged. “It was my time to go.”
Chrayse, utterly nonplussed at the direction the conversation had taken seemed to want to say more. Instead, all she said was, “Keep your guard up.”
“And you.” Candor turned to go.
“Candor,” Chrayse called her back once more. “He will come for you.”
Candor shook her head. “He won’t.” She tried to smile. “Stay away from dungeons.”
Chrayse, utterly bewildered, nodded. “Goodbye Candor.”
“Goodbye Chrayse. I really am sorry.” Candor wished she had more time to sit with the woman. She did not.
Candor turned, glancing over her shoulder to watch Chrayse close the door to her room. Satisfied that her fish would have a pleasant caretaker, Candor trotted down to the garden, taking in the nostalgia of the faded marble one last time. As she passed the plants next to which Candor had forced Choah to swear his oath, Candor half expected to see him appearing out of the leaves and vines. The garden stayed empty. Candor found the tree in which she’d hidden her sword, retrieved it, and buckled it around her waist.
As she looked up, Candor startled back. Farn stood in front of her, eyes angry.
“Farn.” Candor nodded, aware how guilty she looked.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hand.” Farn said. She sounded furious.
Candor, hesitating only slightly, did as she was told. She felt the weight of bound parchment fall into her fingers.
“Do not read this here.” Farn said as Candor opened her eyes once more. “This was not how I wished your time here to end.”
“Did you think I should jump off the mountain?” Candor half joked. “I guess there’s still time. I could drown on my return.”
Farn shook her head. “That is not how the return works. You will be safe. Anyone who leaves is guaranteed safe passage. This is why we terminate those who cannot be allowed to become witches here.”
“I see.” Candor shivered at Farn’s unemotional explanation.
“And I never wished your death.” Farn cracked a small smile. “Well, maybe a little.”
Candor smiled shyly back. “I meant it. I thank you for your instruction.”
Farn’s smile faded. “I mean it too, Candor. I do not know what your Fae mind will do to your development if you practice majik outside the Citadel.” She shook her head. “You must find the Fae. Find someone who can educate you in the ways we could not.”
Candor nodded. She hesitated, considering whether to ask Farn a last question. She figured she had little left to lose; she’d not see Farn again.
“Farn, when I was first here, on my trials, I was working my way up the mountain, and I saw… I mean it appeared to me,” Candor struggled for words. “I found myself in a space that could not have been on the mountain. It was as if it materialized from nowhere. There were columns, and a still pond, and at the end—”
“A basin full of water.” Farn finished in a whisper. She had paled significantly. She touched her fingertips to her lips, as if deep in thought.
Candor waited. Finally, Farn spoke. “This is the oldest majik, beyond the ken of witches. I cannot help you.”
Perturbed, Candor banked the memories recently risen. “Farewell, Farn.”
“Farewell Candor.”
Candor turned, stepping down the path as she had so many times. She made to turn once more, just to thank Farn again, but the witch was gone.
Candor trotted down the beach, considering how she might leave the island. It was not as if there were an abundance of vessels on the beach. She had explored it thoroughly. Candor set her pack down and thought.
Turning towards the trees, she made her decision. Slipping into her Fae mind, perhaps for the last time for a long while, Candor found a tree near the shore. She asked it its name, asked it to fall for her, and asked the trunk to let loose its branches. Candor focused on the meat of the tree, shaping it, bending it, until it hollowed out at the bottom, growing upwards to form steep sides. From a branch, Candor fashioned an oar, asking the tree to become, grow into new names. Satisfied, Candor placed her pack in the little canoe, and slowly retracted into herself. A crushing sadness drew over her, as though she were losing someone dear to her. I can return at any point, Candor promised herself, I can become Fae if I like.
Candor shook her head, steeling herself. She could not carry such an ache around forever. I will find anwers, Candor gritted her teeth. I will be limitless again.
“I didn’t think to find you here.” Choah’s voice startled Candor. She stood, the canoe nearly to the water’s edge.
“Where’d you think I’d go?” Candor snapped. “I got expelled.” Becuase of you hung in the air. “Did you think I’d be thrown from the mountain?” Candor felt a rage mar her sadness as she regarded Choah. “Did you wish that?”
“I would never wish you dead.” Chaoh sounded sincere. “You did not need to protect me.”
“You tried to kill her.” Candor accused. “Why?”
“She was weak.” Choah shrugged. “She couldn’t be allowed to become a witch.”
“That was not your decision to make.” Candor chided the young man. “Neither are you a witch.”
“Not yet.” Choah brushed aside her criticism. “I will be.”
“I will not.” Candor shook her head.
“That was never your destiny.” Choah walked towards Candor slowly.
She shifted backwards automatically, as if crouching for a fight. Choah stopped, a look of wildness coming over him, a bare joy twisted his features.
“You did take your sword back.” He crowed. “I knew it.”
Candor, bewildered by Choah’s mania nodded. She unbuckled it, placing it next to her pack in the raft. “I did not trust you. I did not know if you had left me to discovery.”
“I knew I could trust you.” Choah grinned. “Who are you, Candor?” He inched towards her. “I am unlikely to leave this place any time soon. I’d like to know your name.”
“And I’d like to know yours.” Candor watched the sun on the man’s face, the trill of his words. She remembered imagining his weight on her body as she fell asleep at night, she remembered the way he’d traced her scars.
“A name for a name.” Choah nodded. “That seems fair.” He seemed irritated but hid it well.
“Candor Haelfin.” Candor offered. “I have no family name.”
“That is a disappointment.” Choah sniffed. “You really do not know your family, do you?”
Candor shook her head.
“You are no one.” Choah sounded surprised. “I thought you to be a child of prophecy. Someone important. Some reason for you to hide yourself. I suppose you aren’t that special after all.”
Candor felt as though he had struck her. She wondered if he knew children of prophecies, or if he simply wished to hurt her. Either could be true.
“And now you.” Both hurt and prideful that she disappointed him, Candor stepped forward, closing the space between them. Choah seemed surprised at her intimacy. “A name for a name.”
Choah scowled. “Choah E’Alturam. House of E’Alturam.” Candor felt the name ricochet around her mind but couldn’t place its significance. She had read it somewhere, she knew. It tickled like an old friend she knew she should be able to place.
“Choah E’Alturam.” Candor narrowed her eyes and pressed up against him, eliminating the space between them for once. He wrapped his arms around her briefly.
Candor stepped back, pulling open his arms. She appreciated his irritation, and was that, sadness? In a rare moment of sincerity, Choah pinched the bridge of his nose. “First rule chaos,” he muttered to himself.
“Second rule peace.” Candor nodded back.
Choah’s head snapped up, thunderstruck. His mouth dropped open, and he seemed to gasp for air for a moment.
“Farewell Choah.” Candor did not ask after his reaction. She did not want to know. She remembered Lola muttering that poem to herself when Candor was small. Perhaps it reminded him of home.
Without another word, Candor shoved her boat into the waves, jumping in and paddling madly to escape the breakers. When she looked back to the shore, Choah, and the narrow columns of the lighthouse, were gone.
~.~
