Tome of the Undergates

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It occurred to the boy as odd that the warm present on his shoulder wasn’t even the reason he resented the birds overhead at that moment.

Rather, he thought, as he stared up at the winged vermin, they didn’t make nearly enough noise. Neither did the ocean, nor the wind, nor the murmurings of the sailors gathered before him, muttering ignorant prayers to gods that didn’t exist with the blue-clad woman who swore that they did.

Though, at that moment, he doubted that even gods, false or true, could make enough noise to drown out the awkward silence that hung between him and her.

Wait, he responded to his own thoughts, you didn’t say that last part instead of thinking it, did you? Don’t tell her that the gods are just made up! Remember what happened last time. Look at her. . slowly. . nonchalantly. . all right, good, she doesn’t appear to have heard you, so you probably didn’t say it. Wait, no, she’s scowling. Wait, do you still have the bird faeces on you? Get it off! Nonchalant! Nonchalant!

The problem persisted, however. Even after he brushed the white gunk from his leather coat, Asper’s hazel eyes remained fixed in a scowl upon him. He cleared his throat, looked down at the deck.

Mercifully, she directed her hostility at him only for as long as it took to tuck her brown hair back beneath her bandana, then looked back down at the singed arm she was carefully dressing with bandage and salve. The man who possessed said arm remained scowling at him, but Dreadaeleon scarcely noticed.

He probably wants you to apologise, the boy thought. He deserves it, I suppose. I mean, you did set him on fire. His fingers rubbed together, lingering warmth dancing on their tips. But what did he expect, getting in the way like that? He’s lucky he escaped with only a burned arm. Still, she’d probably like it if you apologised. .

If she even noticed, he thought with a sigh. Behind the burned man were three others with deep cuts, bruised heads or visibly broken joints. Behind them were four more that had already been wrapped, salved, cleaned or stitched.

And they had taken their toll on her, he noticed as her hands went back into the large leather satchel at her side and pulled out another roll of bandages. They trembled, they were calloused, they were clearly used to working.

And, he thought with a sigh, they are just so strong. He drew in a resolute breath. All right, you’ve got to say something. . not that, though! But something. Remember what Denaos says: women are dangerous beasts. But you’re a wizard, a member of the Venarium. You fear no beast. Just. . use tact.

‘Asper,’ he all but whispered, his voice catching as she looked up at him again, ‘you’re. .’ He inhaled sharply. ‘You’re being completely stupid.’

Well done.

‘Stupid,’ she said, levelling a glare that informed him of both her disagreement and her future plans to bludgeon him.

‘As it pertains to the context, yes,’ he said, attempting to remain bold under her withering eyes.

‘The context of. .’ she gestured to her patient, ‘setting a man on fire?’

‘It’s. . it’s a highly sensitive context,’ he protested, his voice closely resembling that of a kitten being chewed on by a lamb. ‘You aren’t taking into account the many variables that account for the incident. See, body temperature can fluctuate fairly quickly, requiring a vast amount of concentration for me to channel it into something combustible enough to do appreciable damage to something animate.’

At this, the burned man added his scowl to Asper’s. Dreadaeleon cleared his throat.

‘As evidenced visibly. With such circumstances as we’ve just experienced, the risk for a triviality increases.’

‘You set. . a man. . on fire. .’ Asper said, her voice a long, slow knife digging into him. ‘How is that a triviality? ’

‘Well. . well. .’ The boy levelled a skinny finger at the man accusingly. ‘He got in my way!’

‘I was tryin’ to defend the captain!’ the man protested.

‘You could have gone around me!’ Dreadaeleon snapped back. ‘My eyes were glowing! My hands were on fire! What affliction of the mind made you think it was a good idea to run in front of me? I was clearly about to do something very impressive.’

‘Dread,’ Asper rebuked the boy sharply before tying the bandage off at the man’s arm and laying a hand gently on his shoulder. To the sailor: ‘The wound’s not serious. Avoid using it for a while. I’ll change the dressing tomorrow. ’ She sighed and looked over the men, both breathing and breathless, beyond her patient. ‘If you can, you should tend to your fellows.’

‘Blessings, Priestess,’ the man replied, rising to his feet and bowing to her.

She returned the gesture and rose as well, smoothing out the wrinkles creasing her blue robes. She excused herself from the remaining patients with a nod and turned away to lean on the railings.

And Dreadaeleon could not help but notice just how hard she leaned. The irate vigour that had lurked behind her eyes vanished entirely, leaving only a very tired woman. Her hands, now suddenly trembling, reached to the gleaming silver hanging from her throat. Fingers caressed the wings of a great bird, the phoenix.

Talanas, Dreadaeleon recalled, the Healer.

‘You look tired,’ he observed.

‘I can see how I might give off that impression,’ Asper replied, ‘what with having to undo the damage my companions do as well as the pirates’ own havoc.’

Somehow, the softness of her voice cut even deeper than its former sharpness. Dreadaeleon frowned and looked down at the deck.

‘It was an accident-’

‘I know.’ She looked up and offered him an exhausted smile. ‘I can appreciate what you were trying to do.’

You see, old man? That fire would have been colossal! Corpses burning on the deck! Smoke rising into the sky! Of course she’d have been impressed. The ladies love fire.

‘Well, it would have been difficult to pull off, of course,’ he offered, attempting to sound humble. ‘But the benefits would have outweighed the tragedy.’

‘Tragedy?’ She blinked. ‘I thought you were going to try to scare the rest of them off with a show of force.’ She peered curiously at him. ‘What were you thinking?’

‘The exact same thing,’ he hastily blurted. ‘I mean, they’re pirates, right? And Cragsmen, on top of that. They probably still believe wizards eat souls and fart thunder.’

She stared at him.

‘We, uh, we don’t.’

‘Hmm.’ She glanced over his shoulder with a grimace, towards the shadows of the companionway. ‘And what was the purpose of that?’

He followed her gaze and frowned. He wasn’t quite sure why she looked at the sight with disgust. To him, it was a masterpiece.

The icicle’s shape was perfect: thick enough to drive it into the wood of the ship, sharp enough to pierce the ribcage in which it currently rested comfortably. Even as the Cragsman clung to it, hands frozen to the red-stained ice in death, Dreadaeleon couldn’t help but smile. He had expected something far messier, but the force used to hurl it through the air had been just enough.

Of course, she probably won’t understand that. He rolled his eyes as he felt hers boring into his. Women.

‘Prevention,’ he replied coolly. ‘I saw him heading for the companionway, I thought he might try to harm Miron.’

She nodded approvingly. ‘I suppose it was necessary, then, if only to protect the Lord Emissary.’

Well done, old man, well done. The exuberance coursing through him threatened to make him explode. He fought it down to a self-confident smirk. Talking to girls is just like casting a spell. Just maintain concentration and don’t-

‘After all,’ he interrupted his train of thought with a laugh, ‘if he died, who would pay us?’