Tristan's Tale Pt. 03

"Well," he replied, "the bulk of this place is filled with classrooms. You probably won't go into most of them once you start specializing your Art."

"Why specialize?" I asked. "Why not just do it all?"

"Hey, I don't make the decisions here," he replied. "Though I imagine focusing on one thing gives you a comparative advantage, as opposed to being a jack of all trades."

We arrived in the lounge, and he led me toward the door over which the sunrise colored tapestry hung. "Ready for your first outside view of Moleh?" said Emmit, overly dramatic, his hand on the door.

He pushed it open, and we walked through into the courtyard. A path of white gravel trailed from the door toward the fountain in the center - small, rolling mounds of grass separated the path from those that originated from different parts of the building. Trees had been planted haphazardly in the grass, some near the path and some far away from it. I remembered seeing flashes of colorful fruit from above when I'd first looked down. Maybe we'd be able to eat some of it - I felt the beginnings of hunger rumbling in my stomach.

The sun filled the courtyard, a pleasant warmth surrounding us. I pulled my longsleeve over my head and tossed it over my shoulder - the sun felt amazing on my skin, especially in comparison to the chill of the lounge. My necklace rubbed against the fabric as I took off the longsleeve, and fell back against my chest. I was reminded of its protective powers, and glanced over at Emmit's. They appeared truly identical, from the cut of the jade to its color, and the rune imprinted on the surface in black calligraphy as well. I was very grateful for the necklace, and rubbed it idly, taking in the brightness of the open space.

"Wait, so it's five?" I asked, looking up at the bright sky, "what, in the afternoon?"

Emmit shook his head. "I recommend getting rid of the idea of morning and night. Their passing is pretty arbitrary. Just go by the bells, it's easier. Sometimes," he said, "you'll have a month of daylight. You soon forget the existence of the stars, I'll tell you that much. Or, night turns into day five times before a day's worth of time has passed."

"How many hours are there in a day?" I asked.

He gave me a strange look. "Twenty-four, of course."

"I just meant, I don't know, maybe it's different here."

He nodded, understanding. "Ah, yes, I see what you mean. I assume they keep time differently in the other parts of Caer'Aton, but here it's the same as back home."

"Alright, well I guess I won't be telling time by the sun at all."

We walked forward, toward the fountain. A ways ahead of us, there stood a tree which was planted near the road. From a distance I looked for the colors I'd seen from above, but found only the light green of its leaves. Perhaps this one didn't bear fruit?

As we got closer, Emmit stopped me with an arm across my chest. "Do you hear that?" he asked, cocking an ear toward the tree, which was still a short distance away.

I listened closely to the silence that settled into our walk. There was only the slight rustle of leaves in a light breeze.

No, wait - something else was there, hidden between the folds of the wind. A voice, singing. I couldn't make out the words.

"I think I know who that is," said Emmit, smiling. "Come, I want to introduce you."

We walked over to the tree, he ahead of me, and the voice, now distinctly feminine, stretched out and interlocked with the wind, weaving together: as it picked up, she altered her tune to leave spaces for it and the leaves, and, was that birdsong? It was coming from behind the tree.

Emmit rounded the tree, crunching on a few of the fallen leaves, and a whirlwind of red spiraled away from him - the birds I'd heard. They flew out in a cluster, then up and into the top of the tree, chirping agitatedly.

"I'd know that voice anywhere," said Emmit to someone seated behind the tree. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Emmit, it's good to see you," replied the voice, as beautiful as ever. Even in conversation she played with the wind, as if a petal in love with an endless storm. "I love this place in the mornings. Without people around," she said pointedly, "the birds are happy to come down and sing along."

I walked up beside Emmit, and I was hers.

She was sitting on the ground with her back against the tree, her face in shade except for where sun poked through the leaves in a few spots - she looked up at me. Her ember orange hair cascading down her shoulders as if a resting dragon, aflame against her pale skin, and starlit green eyes so piercing as if to have fallen from the heavens, emerald comets, her hair the comets tail. Standing straight up I was at once frozen and on fire, her gaze like sweet dry ice sensuously massaging my brain, her gaze peeling me away from myself with the soft, smooth persuasions of her irises, her gaze the eye of an emerald hurricane settled onto me.

A yellow sundress resting slightly folded on her crossed legs, stretching up into the bright horizon of her waist, and down into blue flip flops kicked partly off her feet. The hollow of her neck, wrapped by the thin chain of a necklace falling into her collarbones, her collarbones the lip of a cliff above the curvature of her chest into which the chain disappeared behind her sun dress, and into which I might disappear without a second's hesitation.

In her hands, a small opal knife, the blade creamy white and minutely folded upon itself like melted chocolate poured from above. The handle, rainbow abalone iridescence pocketed into sandy colored wood. She was working on something in her other hand, carving small, precise slivers off of it without looking.

"This is Tristan," said Emmit, "he just arrived earlier this morning."

"Hello, Tristan," she replied. "My name is Jade."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said automatically. My god - the woman was stunning. A face so beautiful as to put others to shame, polite, sultry, confident with a touch of sadness. I forgot who I was. I forgot where we were. I just stood there, and stared like an idiot - there was nothing else I could do.

"I'm just giving him the tour right now," tossed out Emmit.

She gave him a questioning look while continuing to work on the thing in her hand - I glanced down at it and examined it closer, and realized she was whittling a piece of wood, altering the color of the surface with every notch.

"Are you one of the new tour guides, then?" she asked idly.

"Derrik is away, as usual," replied Emmit with a sigh, "so it fell to me. We've had quite the interesting day already - Jet showed up while Tristan was butt naked in the hallway."

She laughed, a mellifluous sound of sparkling water droplets. I was deeply embarrassed - why had he thrown me under the bus like that?

"That must have made quite the impression! I'm sure he handled it with his usual stoicism. That was probably good for him, though. Jet needs to be shaken up every so often. So he'll be briefing you, then?" she asked me. I got the impression the story wasn't actually an embarrassing one so much as it was amusing and interesting. People here seemed to be pretty accepting of showing skin. I relaxed a little.

"Yeah, he told me to be at his office at six," I replied. Even saying such a simple thing I felt like a failure for not having wrapped the sentence in a gold foil of words and had it delivered to her ears on the wings of a white moth. Fuck, I realized, nothing I said would ever be right. I needed to get some tips from Emmit on how to speak well.

"Well, you have quite the busy day ahead of you, then," said Jade. "When he briefed me, it took about twelve hours."

Twelve hours?! What on Earth would he be telling me that would take me twelve hours to understand? How could I even absorb it all?

"Oh, is that the new issue?" she said to Emmit, eying the newspaper tucked under his arm.

"Yes," he replied, "it must have come out some time in the night. The tournament sign ups are available."

She whittled off a few more pieces. Her hand movements were dextrous and quick - a blur that concealed what she was making. "Are you thinking of signing up for anything?"she asked.

"What, me?" asked Emmit. "I don't believe I'd have much of a chance in anything. I haven't even got my weapon yet."

"True enough, I suppose," she replied, "though you have a wondrous mind for poetry, that doesn't do you much good against somebody with a blade at your neck." Balancing the knife hilt on one finger, she let it fall, and immediately caught it with the next finger, keeping it endlessly falling in space. She guided it deftly with her hands in this way, waving it hypnotically side to side, the light catching on the abalone flecks in the hilt, and then suddenly she stabbed smoothly toward Emmit. He recoiled, surprised by the motion despite being far out of reach. She smiled faintly, and returned to her whittling, as if during the spinning of the knife she had been working out in her mind the next notch to cut.

I was smitten by her, the elegance in her focus, the edge to charm, revealed in that small performance. It's always a beautiful thing, watching someone who knows what they're doing work at their craft. That such expertise came from this beautiful woman, this singer who serenades birds and drew in the light from around her such that there, in the shade, I felt the world illuminated - it is not a simple thing, falling for a woman, and yet it came to me that morning as easily as breathing.

"You handle that knife very well," I said, admiring. "Where did you learn that kind of dexterity?"

She smiled demurely, focused on the wood - it was changing color rapidly, if I looked away for only a few moments she had shaved it further and changed the color. "Have you told him about the weapons yet?" she asked.

"Not yet," replied Emmit.

"So insecure, still!" she chided him gently and without rebuke. "Emmit, you'll find your Chi, I promise. There's one for everybody, and you are no exception." And then without so much as a shift in her voice, she was talking to me. I don't know how she managed that. "This is not simply a knife - it is as much a part of me as is my arm. Everybody has one, in a way - it's called your Chi."

So, I had one too? "Chi means something else back home, right? Some sort of energy, like in Tai Chi?" I asked, curious if there was any connection.

"Perhaps," replied Jade "but I would not be so quick to hold to your words, Tristan. Your Chi is your Chi."

"I understand," I said, not quite ready for more unclear sayings, but I think I knew what she was saying. Whether or not you call either thing "Chi", they are what they are, the name merely a convenience. "But I wasn't looking for a piece of home in the word. I suppose, in a roundabout way, I was really asking about the connection between this place and home. How are they related? Did one come from the other, or are they separate? Did, for instance, our conception of Chi derive from this one, the weapon?"

"So curious!" exclaimed Jade, smiling and looking up at me with a thoughtful expression. She looked me over slowly, and seemed to take in all that she saw, and more, as if she was seeing something I wouldn't in a mirror. Though it was only in passing, I was flattered just to have been the subject of those eyes. "A child of wind and water, but there is much fire in your mind. Mmm, I think I would like to meet you, someday, and I would answer your questions, but it would not be appropriate so close to your briefing. I can already feel Jet correcting my mistakes."

"That's alright," I replied - was she hitting on me? Meeting me? What would that even look like, hadn't we just met? Her eyes definitely seemed interested, they sparkled as she looked at me, like she was taunting, waiting for my reply. I don't know why, in hindsight it was very unlike me, but I decided to be bold, saying "And I would also like to meet you someday, even if only to hear you sing another harmony with the wind." Immediately after saying it, I regretted it - my ass was on the line, and she either was on the same page, or I'd totally misread her and made a potentially egregious faux-pas.

She blinked in mild surprise. "You hear that I sing with the wind?"

"Jade, Tristan is full of surprises," said Emmit, "guess how I found him?"

"How?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I woke up because I felt a large surge of energy, and when I went to the training room, I found him seated there - he'd colored the entire wall, and pulled Clay from it, without instruction."

"For the record, I still don't really know what I did," I said.

"Well, it's no surprise then that you heard my song-weaving. You'll do well in the tournament, then."

Again with the tournament! "Emmit said something to the same effect," I said, confused, "and I still don't understand why it's assumed that I'd even sign up. I can't do any of this stuff, I don't have any grasp on the Art, why would I sign up?"

"I bet he'd do well with his Chi, if he found it in time. You should have felt the power, Jade, it was so...raw."

"And he has been touched by all the elements." They were talking like I wasn't even there.

"Um, hello, right here guys," I said.

"Oh, right," said Emmit, "I forgot to mention, conversation here is a lot more honest. Don't be afraid to say what you feel, because other people won't."

"Okay, sure, I can get behind that, but how was talking about me in front of my face an example of honesty?"

Jade and Emmit laughed. "You figure it out," said Jade, grinning and working on the wood in her hands.

I threw my hands up. "Always with the mysteries!" I said.

"Well," said Jade, standing, leaving her knife and the wood, now an orange-red ball, on the ground. "I could give you one answer, if you would allow me to read you." She stepped toward me, and I tensed up, unsure of what to do. Say you wake a sleeping dragon, do you run? Is there any point? There are times when being devoured is the best thing that could happen to you, and this was one of those times.

"Read me?" I asked nervously.

"Remember how I'm an Empath?" asked Emmit. "Jade is a Seer - she can see qualities in people that they don't even know about themselves. She might be able to tell you what your affinity is with the Art, which would be useful to know from the get-go. You'd know where to focus your training. Once you get a foothold in the Art, the rest becomes much easier."

Jade stood in front of me and idly brushed the back the dirt off of the back of her sun dress.

"Wouldn't the necklace block that?" I asked.

Jade shook her head. "What I see isn't something that can be controlled. Only observed."

"Alright, well, I guess I'm game," I said. "So what exactly are you going to do?"

"Stand still, and focus on me," said Jade.

As if I could do anything else. She wrapped her arms around my neck, interlacing her fingers there, and she came distressingly close to me - her forehead against mine, looking deep through me. She was wearing a perfume, an intoxicating smell I couldn't pin down. Focus on her? How could I do anything but stare into her green eyes, how could I not feel her chest pressed lightly against mine, the swish of her dress against my legs, her soft hands on the back of my neck. I was hyper-sensitive to every touch, the slightest breeze from her passing toward me like a current of electricity charged across my skin. I didn't dare move, afraid of changing the moment.

Her eyes burned into me, and we stood there for a moment without anything happening. I didn't want anything to change - I could have stayed in her arms forever. The experience was not unlike standing at the bottom of a mountain, looking up. I felt like a water droplet on the tip of a leaf in the forest below a volcano, and for some reason the volcano was paying attention to me, this beautiful and terrifying feeling of being so small, that I could be swallowed in an instant, lost forever, but in her gaze - not so bad a place.

And then in a flash, something shifted, and the hairs on the back of my neck pricked up, and goosebumps prickled up on my skin - I felt seen, in a way I'd never felt before. As if my entire being had wrapped its hands around a warm mug of spiced cider, the diffusion of warmth settled into me, pressing hotly from my neck against her hands, I was radiating heat, I must have been, and glowing, as if my skin was vibrating at her frequency, and she could read my heat signature. I was vulnerable, in the face of her intense gaze, I wanted to retreat, it was too hot, I was scared, but something in her eyes told me I couldn't, or that I didn't actually want to. Locked into that brilliant green.

And then I realized that I wasn't the only one heating up. She too was sending out heat, or, wait, not heat, but similar. Some sort of distortion that I registered, and it was similar to temperature, but not quite the same. I had no word for it, a sort of shift in the space her body occupied, that she was emanating something I'd never noticed in the world, and I was picking up on it. It was a connection on a level I'd never known existed, startlingly intimate, and all of a sudden I felt as if we'd known each other for a very long time, that we'd flirted for eons and only finally decided to meet each other, that our atoms were once neighbors in a distant supernova somewhere. Even there, I felt, we'd eyed each other, skirted around one another in an orbit of our own.

Whatever I was seeing in her now, it was nothing short of cosmic, and it had been there the entire time. I was only finally opening my eyes. Maybe I'd taken a cue from her? Picked up on her technique? Was this what she was seeing? My god, I hoped so.

Jade widened her eyes, and stepped back from me all of a sudden. She turned to Emmit, then back to me several times.

"I...I do not know what to say," she said.

"What did you see?" I asked.

She only shook her head. She made to say something, but closed her mouth, and gave me the most peculiar look instead, a mixture of intense curiosity and fear. But, a different fear, not that I was scary, but that I represented something scary. She pursed her lips, and, spinning, her sun dress twirling around her in the sun, she walked back to the tree, sitting down. She hummed softly to herself, and resumed her whittling. I looked at Emmit, flabbergasted.

"What the fuck just happened?" I asked.

He scratched his head, and chose his words carefully. "Some things," he said, "are not meant to be seen. And if seen, they are not meant to be spoken. And if spoken, they are not meant to be heard, because once heard, they might be understood."

I sighed. "More riddles..." I said, glancing at Jade. She was absorbed by her woodwork, as if we didn't exist at all.

"Well, it was nice to meet you, Jade," I said to her, resigned. I didn't expect a response, but I said it anyway because if I'd left without giving her a chance to respond to me, I never would have been able to forgive myself. "Shall we go on with the tour, Emmit? You can just bring me to Jet's - I don't want to take up any more of your time." I was dejected.

"It was good to see you. We will leave you to your birds, Jade," said Emmit.

"Hmm," she said, speeding up the movements of her hand, working the knife flawlessly around the wood. Many colored slivers dropped to the ground where a small pile was building. She had an amazing speed about her, and a grace and intimacy with the blade that left me a touch unsettled, but more than that, intrigued. Who was this woman who had captivated me so effortlessly, and then walked away silent? What had she seen in me?

Emmit led the way, walking back to the path, and reluctantly, I followed him.