Weight of Worlds

The office center piece was the desk. Tall and wide, heavy and dark. Simple designs were carved into the legs, flowing the eyes to the brutally simple varnished wood. Not a single paper, folder, quill, or ink cluttered the table’s surface. Behind it sat an equally simple, high-backed chair. The entire setup was framed by a vast window. The intimidation was hindered somewhat by the low-lying gray clouds covering the sky beyond the immaculately wrought glass.

Still, Shiri had never enjoyed a stern talking to from her position in Isgerd’s office.

The woman in question, Lord of Rime’s Shadow, sat with fingers steepled, eyes locked on the red-haired caretaker. “You want to know what I think? Or do you want me to comfort you?”

Shiri hesitated. She’d gone to her parents first, but they had been of little use to her. Yes, they’d supported her opinions but held no strong beliefs in either direction themselves. They had never seen much violence, let alone war. They didn’t really understand that tethered could be bad. If she expressed herself too strongly in favor of Ranvir, they followed. Similarly, when airing opposition they bent to her whim.

Her parents were never quick with a word or judgement. If she needed word on whether or not to buy a cow, or get help with stitch work, they were a great aid. This was simply an issue outside their comfort zone.

“We think you should listen to your heart. What do you want to do?” were fine platitudes, but fell a little flat when opposed with her brazen reality.

“I’ll say this.” Isgerd placed a single well-manicured finger on the table. The tap of nail seemed ominously loud in the spare room. “I respect you too much to placate your worries and push it down the hill for a later time.”

Tap.

“I warned you the first time we intersected with Ranvir. He was dangerous by definition. Didn’t I tell you he wouldn’t let go easily? Soldiering types rarely do.”

Tap.

Shiri bowed her head. It was best to let Isgerd get these kinds of rants out of her system. She couldn’t function right without them.

“Then again, when you went with them. I took his measure. I saw him in truth. Ranvir is a dangerous man. He courts it by his very presence.”

Tap.

“Now you come running? Because you let yourself fall for the fool man. I told you to see him clearly. Did you? Did you notice the scars? The burns? That is not the body of a man at peace. For all that he’s grown physically, he’s still the same violent combatant child I warned you about.”

Tap.

“Now, you’re heartbroken because you lacked the foresight to read the warnings you were given! Look at you. Meek and bent. He’s an idiot bastard for letting you get attached to him, but you… you are worse still. You have no excuse.”

Shiri flinched, well aware of Isgerd’s feelings on the matter. Her own issues regarding soldiers. There was silence for a beat, Shiri waiting to see if Isgerd had more in her. It seemed not.

Taking in a deep breath, Shiri straightened and looked the lord in her eyes. There was nothing of bitter anger in the brown depths, nor was there unleashed heat within. Set determination filled the noble’s every pore until it oozed from her like a sponge. She was intent on fixing the lesson in Shiri’s head.

Shiri pictured her daughter, who looked so startlingly like herself. The bright smile, uncontrollable messy hair, those blue eyes. Faced with that, she could easily weather the noble’s disregard. Long years of working as her assistant had taught Shiri how to handle Isgerd’s moods well.

“I’d refrain from calling him a bastard or fool,” she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

“I don’t see what that has to do with the topic at hand.”

“He can hear you, most likely.” Shiri cleared her throat and nodded to the window.

Reluctantly, yet with a curious sparkle in her eyes, Isgerd rose from her chair. The window peered into the courtyard of her mansion. In the snow-covered garden on two cushions sat Ranvir and Laila. The noble’s daughter was wearing sensible clothing for the weather, while Ranvir remained in his loose blouse and simple pants.

“Shiri,” Isgerd said, settling her hands behind her back. She took on the weight of responsibility in her tone as she directed her voice to her once-assistant. “Ranvir is strong, yes.” She turned to look at Shiri. “But he is not that strong. There weren’t a lot, but I saw masters fight at the school. For his age, he is certainly impressive, but I am not the one who needs to regulate my speech when we are together.”

Shiri had come around the desk and looked out the window, avoiding the woman’s intense stare. Ranvir looked up and gave her a pointed look. Not an outright notion for her to stop, though.

“He couldn’t trounce you in front of your people, Isgerd. This notion might be hard to understand, but Ranvir has stood before the Queen. Met her in private audience. Argued with her. He stands high in Elusria by weight of his power.”

Isgerd gave her a skeptical look, but let her continue.

“Ranvir stood before more than half a dozen masters, of Ankirian breed. Not only did he face them in battle, he killed them.” She hadn’t actually seen it, nor had she the facilities to sense the combat, but she’d heard the stories. Given Ranvir’s look, she should’ve probably asked for specifics. Didn’t matter, she understood well what came next. “In retaliation, the Purists sent their triplet master after him. Dhaakir Blackstorm. Powerful enough to give pause to our strongest tethered.”

“She’s pumping the numbers way up,” Ranvir said, suddenly standing before the desk. Isgerd jumped, a momentary chill washing over them. She stared wide-eyed at Ranvir, whose concerned purple eyes were fixed on Shiri. “It was five masters, and Dhaakir had already been severely injured.”

Isgerd gathered her calm, which had scattered like dropped paper. Straightening, fixing her hands behind her back. Standing tall with her chest out. Shiri felt the impression was spoiled a little by her womanly pre-eminence. Thankfully, Ranvir didn’t give attention to it.

“Release me,” she said coldly. Shiri felt nothing and noticed only a slight hitch in Isgerd’s breast as her breathing hiccuped. Then Ranvir was gone, back in the garden next to a confused-looking Laila.

“I think it’s best if you leave.”

“Where to?”

“I’m not sure,” Shiri worried at her lip as she thought. The meeting with Isgerd could’ve gone better. She’d just been looking for advice. But considering the woman’s challenges, perhaps she couldn’t blame her for things spiraling out of control. Maybe she should blame herself.

“What did you do to her?”

“Is it important?”

Shiri sighed and shook her head. “To Pashar?”

Ranvir gave her a long look. “She will help you come to her decision.”

“I’m not helpless to her wit.”

Ranvir nodded. “Dad’s gonna kill me when he realizes I was in town and didn’t visit.”

Shiri stared at him as they were enveloped in space and rushed away. Such a domestic thought, it seemed out-of-place coming from the tall, muscular, scarred, and winged man with glowing eyes.

“There we go,” Ranvir said.

Shiri blinked and looked around. They were on a street in the city. They’d gotten there so fast, even for him. One of these days, she would need an explanation for his travel power. A door opened, revealing the Pashar’s dusky features. Her eyes narrowed and focused on Ranvir.

“You! The academy! Now! Ayvir and Es are still out of commission, and Grevor is hunting rats in the desert. You have no reason to be running around injured.”

Ranvir was gone before Shiri could turn around. When she looked back, Pashar had left the door open. “Come sit,” the woman said, once Shiri stepped inside. Her home was small but cozy. Decorated thickly with a mix of Ankirian and Elusrian styles. Thin clay plate paintings hung on her walls, next to intricate and colorful crochet patterns.

Shiri followed Pashar’s inviting gesture to sit at a small dinner table. Intimately proportioned, there was barely room for two. Yet, there was space, nothing bigger in the house.

“It’s important to remember that he’s still human. That’s he’s not even seen a full twenty-four summers. In many ways, Ranvir’s still a kid. Still learning.” Pashar sat down. “You’ll have to forgive the closeness of my home. I bought it as a stop-over until I found something more appropriate.”

“It’s fine.” Shiri waved her off.

Pashar nodded. “Being human and still young means it’s all the more important to see beneath the surface with him. If you allow it, he will appear as something greater. For the Sisters’ sake, they are already calling his wings and eyes god-sign.”

“That’s not really what I was here for. I was actually hoping to get your thoughts on whether or not I should stay with him.”

Pashar gave her a dismissive look. “Please.”