Devotia Ch. 21: Convalescence

21- Convalescence

Light glitters through the air. Bright. Enveloping. Jolting. Even behind her tightly shut eyelids Callie feels herself groggily squint at the intrusion.

It's accompanied by a feeling of heat through her body, rolling in waves from her head to her feet and back up again. It seems to hook onto and dance across little knots in her skin, tugging against them and strengthening them, threading itself into her.

It takes a nearly insurmountable effort to blink her eyes open, gazing out through her lashes into a bright and blurry room. She's staring at a domed ceiling high above, a rotunda of glittering stained-glass windows. Against her back is a firm mattress.

She tries to tilt her head to the side, to gather greater bearing on where she is, but her movement is halted in place just as sharply as it begins. She gasps as pain sears through a line across her neck, then makes a hollow sound as gasping worsens the feeling.

Her head pounds. She feels her heartbeat trying to break free of her body. The shallow breaths she can manage feel as though there's no air for them to accept.

She croaks out into the room, partly automatic from the pain, and partly to beg for any help the world might offer. Her voice won't form words - it burns her throat to make any sound at all.

When a voice calls out to answer her, it rings in her head, echoing and bouncing around. It sounds distorted, disorienting.

"-awake," she makes out. And then a round face with glasses is leaning over her body, casting a shadow from the light above. A pair of hands gently press against Callie's shoulders, keeping them against the bed underneath her. "Callie, I need you not to move okay?"

Willow.

"Thank fuck," another shadow joins her, and Callie's breath settles a little to recognize the familiar shape of Junivere. She lowers a hand to Callie's cheek, tender and worried. "Hey, love. You're going to be alright, but it'll take a little bit, okay? No, don't nod. Just blink twice if you understand me."

Callie blinks twice, slowly clearing some of the grogginess from her vision. As her vision slowly focuses, it's clear Junivere has been crying. She looks exhausted.

Junivere looks over at Willow. "Is it time for another yet?"

"I don't think we should risk it. Her body's been under so much stress already." A pause. Junivere frowns. Willow sighs. "I can ask Mashara."

"She'll need water. And food. If we can't-,"

"I know." Willow lowers her eyes towards Callie again. "Callie, you're going to -," a low exhale. "We're doing what we can, but it'll be a slow process. And uncomfortable. We can use some charms to put you back to sleep, and wake you when you're better."

"Blink once for awake. Twice for sleep," Junivere adds.

Callie tries not to blink at all. Too many questions sluggishly tumble forward in her mind. What happened? Why am I so thirsty? Where's Calvin? Are we safe?

She struggles and lifts one of her hands, trying to figure out how to ask all the things she needs to know, but it's impossible to do more than a few simple gestures. She does her best to spell a name out into the air.

Junivere watches carefully. "Calvin's alright," she says, and Callie feels a cool relief wash over her. "He's handling some things on his end of all of this." She places a kiss on Callie's forehead. "Awake or asleep?

Callie blinks twice.

- - -

She isn't sure how many days pass between her blurry awakenings. The light in the rotunda is always filled with sunbeams as she blinks awake, the blessed tendrils of threadbeams drifting off of her. One time it seems like morning. Another, late afternoon. Beyond that, she can't tell.

Junivere talks to her sweetly when she rouses, encouraging her to remain calm and still. Callie can hardly remember the prior visit each time she awakes, whatever words were shared between them drifts off like a fading dream.

After a few times, a woman Callie doesn't recognize tries to get her to drink a trickle of water, but Callie vomits it back almost immediately, which sends an acrid burn through her throat. The next time she tries, Callie only manages a few swallows before slipping out of consciousness.

An uncountable amount of time later, Junivere's blessing finally seems to bandage enough of the damage for Callie to sit up. Her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth, dry and sickly, and her skin feels heavy to rest in. She coughs hoarsely, and only a little spatter of blood decorates her elbow.

Junivere is at her side, talking to another woman at the foot of the bed. Callie had seen her sporadically upon awakenings, and began to assume she must be some sort of physician. She has deep umber skin like Mykah's, and her hair twirls into a long braid. Her face is always kind and comforting, and despite the difficulty with drinking water before, Callie feels settled around her.

She mutters something to Junivere, then squeezes her hand and departs the room. Her fellow Devotia retrieves a bowl of water and brings it towards Callie, one hand holding it steady while another gently brushes the hair out of her face. "Hey, love," she coos, lifting her hips to sit on the edge of the bed.

Callie accepts the water ravenously, gulping it down as quickly as her aching throat will allow, hardly caring for the trickles of spilled liquid that dribble down her cheeks and chin. She finishes it and releases a grizzled-but-satisfied exhale.

"Mashara says one more of those, then we'll wait a half hour," Junivere tells her. "If you can keep them down, we can get you some food."

Callie dips her head, trying to keep herself from moving too quickly. Junivere fills another bowl of water and places it in Callie's hands, allowing her to control the pace of her next drink. The older Devotia gently nudges her to scoot over and climbs up into bed to lay beside her.

A first attempt in speaking results in Callie descending into a fit of hacking coughs. She drinks down the entire second bowl to recover and quickly requests a third.

"What... happened?" She croaks out at last.

"I..." Junivere looks away. She's quiet for a long breath, and then her hands are lifting her face and her nose is sniffling. "Fuck, Callie. I'm so sorry." When she faces Callie once more, her jaw is quivering. A couplet of tears escape her eyelashes.

"Why?"

And Junivere allows herself to cry in earnest. For a moment, it seems like she intends to throw herself into Callie's arms for consolation, but she stops herself. Her breath shudders and little noises escape her lips.

"It's my..." She takes a low breath and shakes her head. "I... I went back to my room t-to tell Silas to head home, but he wasn't there. Calvin said the two of you were talking and..."

She cuts herself off. Her expression shuts up tightly as she forces the tears away. There's a painful look in her eyes as she tries to insulate herself enough to explain.

"It was Gloriana who found you, by accident," she continues. Her voice trembles. "T-there was so much blood... She had a moment to choose between going to your side or preventing Silas' escape and she... she brought you to us." She pulls her legs to her chest and holds them tightly, her eyes glazing over as she absently stares at the wall.

"I didn't know what to do. Normally a blessing would help stabilize you but it was night and I couldn't-," she halts. A burdened breath. "Calvin was brilliant. You were barely conscious, but he grabbed your hand and talked you through giving him a blessing, then he closed you in a ward and forced it back into you. If he hadn't..."

Callie takes her hand as Junivere descends into a restrained bout of tears once more. It hardly feels real. Everything around her may as well be a dream, an impossibility made real. She'd felt pain before but never to this scale. To have walked away from something that should have killed her...

"Callie, you were very nearly dead. As close as you can be."

Her hand lifts to her throat, the pads of her fingertips grazing across a raised line of a scar. A knife had been there. Steel had cut open her throat. She'd bled from this very place.

She nearly died.

That can't be real. It can't.

"Silas... tried to..."

And at Callie's words, Junivere turns away and throws her legs off of the bed. Her head drops into her hands. "I've been an idiot." Callie tries to interrupt her, but she charges on. "It was fucking stupid of me to think he would - that it could be... I shouldn't have trusted him. I never should have-,"

"I... don't... blame you," Callie manages.

"You should," Junivere sighs. "I blame myself plenty."

"Why... did...?"

Junivere thinks for a moment, then shrugs. "I don't know why he would. Jealousy? Money? To hurt me?" She shakes her head. "Probably all of the above."

"Where... is he?"

"He fled. Calvin and the knights are hunting him down."

A feeling of dread settles in Callie's gut. "Not easy... out of the... villa..."

Junivere nods. Her voice is dejected as she agrees. "He likely had help. We... Well, we've made quite a few enemies the last week, I imagine."

Callie follows her point, though it does little to provide her any comfort.

She was trying to make things better. For herself, sure, but also for the city. It wasn't right to know that only a select few would ever be fortunate to encounter a Devotia, much less be blessed by a goddess - and even worse to know that most of the people who could meet with her were wealthy and powerful. She'd hoped, perhaps naively, that the optimism of the air in the city of her new anointing, and the gift of Yala's magic, would be enough to win over skeptics.

It seems not.

With a different pit in her stomach, Callie asks, "Velena... Dynasa?"

"Velena forced a surrender," Junivere says solemnly. "Dynasa is alive, but she took a beating. She only barely surrendered before losing consciousness - if she didn't..."

The two of them drift away into a tense silence. Callie slowly feels her heavy heart drop into a feeling of dread for the coming days.

Junivere's palm rests onto Callie's thigh, squeezing it. Her voice is weary and soft. "Gods, I was not ready to lose you-,"

A knock on the door.

Junivere tenses, and it takes her a moment to shove her emotions away behind a refined wall as the door pulls open.

"Hal Devotae," Gloriana greets the two of them, saluting and inclining her head as she does.

Callie feels a proud relief at seeing her. The paladin who had once felt like a warden keeping her in line had become the woman who risked a great deal to save her. As the athletic knight strolls inside, Callie finds herself bringing the brightest smile her weak face can manage.

"I hear... you saved me."

"It was my duty," Gloriana says simply.

"I'd already told you we weren't going out to the city that night," Callie muses, "why did you return so late?" And to her delight, Gloriana blushes and looks away, shuffling awkwardly in place and allowing Callie to draw a few wondrous conclusions about her agenda. "Good woman," she approves.

Junivere sits forward. "Any updates?"

Gloriana's face returns to business. "Still searching." She brings her refocused eyes back to Callie. "Hal Devotia, you have visitors. Quite a few."

"Who?"

"Magisters Krann and Hamada. And Lord Xamner."

Callie struggles through a dry swallow. Not a great sign.

"She needs rest," Junivere shakes her head.

"They're insisting, hal Devotia."

Callie furrows her brow. "All... all at once?"

"They've all come separately."

She takes another bowl of water and carefully gulps it down, preparing herself for what was sure to be a variety of awkward and unpleasant conversations. A part of her wonders if she should simply ignore them anyway, give herself more time to think up some good responses to whatever they might want to say.

"Send the first," she shrugs.

Gloriana salutes and marches out of the room, and Junivere looks displeased from the side of the bed. "You don't have to."

"I do."

Krann is the first to arrive, his measured stride rigid and authoritative. He looks unhappier than Callie has ever seen him, his salt-and-pepper beard looking less manicured than usual.

"Hal Devotia, I am relieved to hear you will make a full recovery," he says after approaching. His eyes flick to Junivere. "Might we have a word in private?"

Junivere's presence quickly grows hostile to the suggestion. "She is still recovering. I will remain."

"I mean no disrespect, hal Devotia, but-,"

Callie ends the argument. "June stays."

Krann is not shy about wearing his displeasure, but he tucks his long sleeves behind his back and squares his shoulders. His voice carries the cadence of a carefully practiced idea. "I regret the circumstances that have brought us to this whole ordeal. However, surely you can see that this is a direct result of your recent actions."

Junivere nearly growls. "Are you suggesting she deserved an assassin's blade?"

"Not in the slightest," he huffs, scowling at her before returning to Callie. "I believe it is in the best interests of yourself and the city for you to disavow your anointings and step down."

Callie considers him carefully. He's come all this way simply to deliver the same message he's already been insisting on since before she was attacked. Krann was remarkably stern in his composure, pragmatically centrist in his politics for the city. He values constancy, stability. Yet, despite his best efforts, he's watching it all crumble around him.

Because of her.

Because of the goddesses, she corrects internally.

He's afraid.

And so Callie reads him. "I will... if you do, too."

Junivere tenses at her side, but Callie doesn't share any of her concerns. She knows exactly how Krann will respond.

He frowns. "Consider it."

And then the Magister flicks his robes on a curt turn and exits the room, leaving behind an air of displeasure and aggravation.

Just as quickly as he leaves, Magister Hamada, in all of her height and strength and elegance, enters. She makes an effort to perform a noise ward somatically, with extra emphasis so that both of them can see her cast it.

"Hal Devtoae." Her gaze flicks to Junivere. "When was her last blessing?"

"Less than a half hour ago," the Devotia replies. "Mashara says I need to wait at least two more hours until her next one so it doesn't overwhelm her."

"Good," Hamada nods sharply. "I'm glad you're both here. We need to speak."

The Magister places her arms behind her back, propping her chin up to deliver news that she was sure would drastically change the direction of the conversation. With little care for either of their temperaments, Hamada declares, "Velena needs to die."

"Suul's tits," Junivere curses under her breath.

"That's extreme," Callie mutters.

Hamada continues forward, moving with the flow of a constructed and logical set of conclusions. To evidence her statement, she simply adds, "Well, she just attempted to assassinate a Devotia."

Shit.

Junivere rises to her feet. "How do you know it was her?"

"Because I have recently apprehended the would-be assassin and acquired the information from him."

Callie harbors no doubts of what Hamada would have been willing to do to gain that information. It's written clearly on her face. She's a little ashamed of the part of her that is glad to hear it.

Her fellow Devotia releases a low breath. "Is Silas alive?"

The Magister nods. "I suspected you would like to have a say in that."

A pause. "I would like to speak with him."

"That can be arranged."

At this, Callie struggles down a few sips of water, trying not to give in to the mild tremor in her hands. "If you have evidence... why not bring it... to the council?"

Hamanda waves a dismissive hand, her fingers hanging in the air with a disdain for the suggestion. "And have Velena challenge anyone who condemns her? It's quite clear to everyone now that she's the strongest of us all. This problem is no longer solvable by any legitimized institution."

Junivere paces away to one of the columns holding up the rotunda, holding her arms nervously over her chest. Callie often takes her cues in moments like this from Junivere - if her fellow Devotia thinks there's cause for alarm, that was an intuition to be respected. Her chest tightens.

"Why are you telling us this?" She asks.

Hamada purses her lips. "I do not believe it will be easy to kill her."

Callie perks up. "We're not duelists."

Junivere shakes her head, glaring at Hamada with a worried crease in her brows. "You're going to challenge her again?"

"I need to know where the gaps in her armor are," Hamada says noncommittally. "If I'm caught searching for them, the rest will not hesitate to turn on me, whether or not they like her."

And Callie realizes her predicament. No one can stand up to Velena, but neither can they face Hamada. The two most powerful mages on the council are now at war with one another, and if anyone steps in to assist one, the other will be incensed against them.

Junivere shares a glance with Callie before summarizing, "You're asking us to-,"

"I am not asking anything. Simply making observations," Hamada deflects. "Anything Magister Baris learns about, anything anyone might tell her, I expect it will find its way to me."

And with that, Hamada bows reverently to the pair of them, clicking her heels and making for the door. There, she stops and utters over her shoulder, "I am very fortunate that the goddesses favored me in my first contest. I would not be alive without her intervention." A weighted pause. "I can only hope she sees fit to favor me once more."

Callie is already regretting her decision to allow visitors when the old man enters. Xamner's face frowns deeper than even Callie thought possible, wearing the lines of condemning wrinkles on his face like a fashion statement. It's not hard to discern the tone of his visit, it walks into the room with his shuffling steps.

"And how may we help you?" Junivere sighs.

Xamner folds his hands over one another and allows them to hang in front of his hips, shoulders squared and legs set rigidly. He makes a grunting noise. "I would like to ask Devotia Callana if she's pleased with herself." He inclines his head, looking around the room as he adds, "Is this what you hoped for? Surely this is the freedom for the Devotia."

"If all you have are insults for her, I invite you to leave."

Xamner is undeterred. He holds out a flat palm, tipping it back and forth like a scale taking measurement. "A blade to the throat... freedom?"

"Please leave-,"

"My niece is nearly dead and Magister Velena is ascendant, you blithering fools" he spits out, stomping his foot as he steps forward, ignoring Junivere's protests. His eyes hook onto Callie, holding within them a contempt that places a weight of guilt inside Callie without any conscious effort on her part. "You've played directly into her hands. All of our carefully crafted plans, gone because of your recklessness."

Callie swallows the shame heating her face. "You never told me... your plans."

"Because neither of us trusted you to carry them out!" He shouts. "You are impulsive, short-sided, and selfish."

Junivere steps between them, fanning her hands to usher him out. "Lord Xamner, if you have nothing constructive to offer us, then you are just as much of a selfish fool. Leave."

But Xamner does not budge from the place he's planted himself into. Instead, his eyes remain fixed on Callie, his body rising and falling with the slow weight of his breath.

What does he want from me?

Callie tries to rely on the growing skills of scheming that she's learned, tries to peer back into him and ascertain what was holding him here in the room.