Chapter 7 – In the Tree

  Jezza

  The next morning brought Yule’s Eve, and Jezza was already calculating the most graceful moment to break off alone to see Lucette. It would have to be soon. This was rough.

  Mom definitely needed rescuing. But how?

  I can strategize that, Jezza thought, should be possible. Need time to think.

  The largest valley between the knobs held the old-growth evergreen that Berr’s community square had formed around. The majesty of the ancient pine, so tall it rivaled the distant Lacian peaks, stood proud as ever, making the shame of the surrounding branchwork buildings all the starker. Nearly falling off their trunks. Never used in all her time here, only seen as ceremonial vestiges.

  Berr’s population leaned elvish. Jezza had adventured in elven-heavy settlements elsewhere.

  Those buildings weren’t just meant for show.

  The townsfolk gathered in the valley, families and their children running back and forth, placing decorations on the lower branches of the pine. Djanara and Sonnja had joined her, in the spirit of things, and she welcomed the company. Jezza realized being out here with more than just her mom felt particularly glowy.

  She really wanted to gush like it was safe. But it wasn’t. So, she didn’t.

  While they approached, Jezza visited the brook in her mind; the one in the windy meadow, surrounded by forest, volcano, and ocean.

  Oh, I love having a tallfolk nearby! The furtive fire pixie named Flayme decided to speak from here. For now, she was a flittering pink-red sprite that pirouetted through Jezza’s chest and heart.

  Erm, yes, Flayme, Socrates sighed. You’ve gone and made this awkward on me. Now I have to explain you and Undine early.

  Relax, Undine’s flowing voice came from the brook.

  Right, Socrates continued, it’s not just me blowing around the meadow. I’m often doing heavy interpreting work for Jezza’s connection with the primal water, fire, and earth, as per her evoker’s discipline. All well and good. Occasionally, however, Flayme will not allow me to speak for her; a situation we call ‘whimsy.’

  Gaia, speak of her too, Undine said, impatient, yet unbothered.

  Gaia, the earth, is due to speak a word in about two years, Socrates explained. Last time it was very loud. I’m not needed there.

  Okay, but like shut up, Flayme pouted. I really wanna say a lot about how good it feels to have a big tallfolk looking over mom and I!

  We have adventured with many tallfolk, Flayme, Socrates reminded her. It always feels this way.

  Yes, Flayme acknowledged, and you never let me do it!

  Look, get out of the brook Jezza, Socrates sighed, Ailred’s over there and your mother is preparing a question for you.

  Jezza refocused on the external world, on her mom looking her way.

  “Do you want to just watch from back here?” Sonnja asked. Jezza nodded affirmatively.

  “You confirmed it last night,” Jezza answered, “outside of – y’know, her – you’re the only one in this village I really give a damn about anymore.”

  Clover. The goblin girl, same age as Jezza. The only goblin in the village. The kinship had been instant, twins in isolation. She was the one other person in those first sixteen years who made her life livable.

  Jezza wished she could have found Lucette’s enclave and told Clover about it sooner. There scarcely had time to enjoy finding it before the she left for Woodpine. She remembered how desperate she was to make the map fail-proof, so Clover could get back there after she was gone. Clover had vanished from Berr after that, according to her mom’s letters. Jezza had once again written instructions back to mom, needing to confirm her thoughts.

  Not everyone in Berr was an Ailred or Callen. But nobody else in Berr was a Clover. They could be friendly to Jezza’s face, or at least politely ignore her. But they could never stand up to the Ailreds for her like Clover had tried. Jezza smiled, knowing that she could see the goblin when she’d had enough of Berr’s sadness for the morning. She was safer, and definitely much happier at Lucette’s.

  “I know you want to go see her,” Sonnja said, wrapping Jezza’s hand in hers. “Can you stay here with me for a few hours, first?”

  Jezza squeezed her mom’s hand.

  “I can handle a few hours, mom,” Jezza said.

  * * *

  They weren’t putting any decorations on the upper branches, and that annoyed Jezza.

  There wasn’t music, that also annoyed Jezza.

  Most of all, there weren’t any gnomes in the tree. And there definitely ought to be.

  Jezza’s first Yule on Woodpine’s campus had shocked her with its level of exuberance and festivity; a far cry from the quiet, almost somber gathering she’d been milling about for the last hour. Ailred was easy to avoid, there were always people wanting to climb Berr’s social ladder, which was done by saying things Ailred liked hearing. As for Callen, he kept his distance and was content to talk with his dullard friends and shoot nasty looks.

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  She’d broken off from Sonnja and Djanara, admiring the tree from a lone angle. It really was beautiful, even with the mediocre decorations. Socrates came up politely.

  Dear Jezza, Socrates said, Flayme is requesting to get in the tree. She points out that it is natural for gnomes, and we did so on campus.

  Oh, it actually felt pretty strong, come to think of it. A whimsy incident was perhaps afoot. A whimcident.

  Get in that tree! Flayme insisted. You gotta!

  These people do not know that is part of the tradition, Socrates explained.

  I don’t care :D! Flayme, we don’t use smiles in literary prose.

  GUESS WHO DOESN’T CARE! Flayme exploded. GET IN THAT FU-

  Jezza went for the tree.

  Oh, and it was cozy! It climbed so naturally. Every branch was just in reach. No flying required. She made it up about thirty feet before stopping on a larger, cozier branch to rest her back against the trunk.

  “Look how tall I am!” Jezza said aloud, because she had to. Flayme did not stay inside every time.

  Jezza tried to feel the tree. This was one of those things she couldn’t fully rationalize yet. She knew it was there, the tree’s voice, but there was no system in place for finding it. This tree had already spoken wordlessly to bring her into its boughs. The earthen kind of magic was classified as primal, and she knew less of it than the draconic magic of faith and far, far less than Mistral’s arcane magic. There had to be a bridge between the primal and the arcane, though: her evoker’s discipline operated on these forces. In fact, her magister’s thesis had been on this very subject.

  So, she tried to interact with the tree without evoking her arcane connections – just feeling it with her whole being.

  No voice, or words. But it felt good to be up here – until one of Callen’s friends took it upon himself to start bothering her. Laughter from below refocused Jezza, made her look down to see the black-haired fat gnome who was with Callen earlier.

  “What’re you, some kinda youngin’?” he shouted. “Get down!”

  “You know you feel it too, Blippin,” Jezza shouted back. “Gnomes don’t outgrow it. The adults get in the tree on campus too.”

  “Nuh-uh,” Blippin yelled, “you’re just lyin’ again!”

  Jezza sighed, dropped her voice and mumbled: “what is logic against the raw power of nuh-uh.”

  The tree laughed with tiredness.

  “Get outta the tree!” Blippin yelled again. “I’ll go get Mother Blackburn and Gene!”

  Jezza simply tuned him out. She was curious about that laughing feeling she felt, wanted to spend more time with the tree. That was such a distinct feeling. She couldn’t hear anything else over the growing sound of angered voices below, but somehow she knew that this old tree was still watching and amused. She was drawing a crowd.

  She peered over the needles to see Ailred approaching, already reddening herself. Alongside her was an elf the same age, a portly man with dull eyes and pudgy cheeks. A Red War era iron mail dangled from his shoulders over his brown tunic, causing him to droop; and he wore a green-tinged bronze cap. A cudgel dangled from his belt.

  Gene. The entirety of the peacekeeping force of Berr.

  You should not put that poor man in a situation where he’s supposed to use that stick of his, Socrates reminded Jezza. Keep this very focused. Okay, you’re on.

  “You’re still making Gene wear that old gear, Ailred?” Jezza shouted down just as they arrived. This wouldn’t truly be weaveless, she was amplifying her voice to spare her throat – and ensure that the townsfolk heard clearly.

  Oh yes, everyone was watching. She saw her mom and Djanara out there too. Hoped she could make this good.

  “What do you think you’re doing in the Yule tree?” Ailred shrieked, her hands on her hips. Gene stood next to her, generally confused.

  “Listening to it,” Jezza said, “the way we all did in Woodpine.”

  Ailred’s lips pursed. She tried mocking Jezza: “only the little ones do that here. You’re dishonoring the tree!”

  “That’s just not true!” Jezza cried. She couldn’t take it anymore. All the fucking lying. Who even came up with it?

  Ailred set her jaw, giving her that hateful look again.

  “Jezza,” Ailred said, “did you just call me a liar?”

  Jezza’s fire and air formed steam on the brook, and together, they tore into this woman.

  “Yes, by the strings and scales!” Jezza yelled. “You lie about everything! You lie about the smallest and the biggest things possible! You lie about history! You lie about what the world is like outside! You even lie about the reason mom’s the only one of you who can still use Lanya’s healing!”

  Shocked, stunned silence. Gasps.

  Alrighty then, Socrates sighed, you said the thing.

  Ailred’s face contorted in several directions at the same time. Jezza had just said something entirely forbidden, a fact that was simply not talked about. Drangleth’s dragons offered magic of their own for those who walked their paths, although the relationship between a cleric and their dragon’s magic was conditional. Religious scholars of Terria were currently in a scramble with archaeologists when it came to decoding the most accurate history of draconic magic. But it did not take an archaeologist or a religious scholar to hypothesize that if one could no longer perform their dragon’s magic –

  They were doing it wrong.

  “Jezza,” Ailred’s voice was furious venom. She launched into some bullshit. Jezza was done hearing it, she gauged the crowd.

  Not great. There were jeers, boos, angry looks. They weren’t curious about what she’d said at all, just too uncomfortable with it. The crowd started swarming the base of the tree. Jezza really was calm enough to put Socrates away, knowing she’d done everything she could here.

  I’m going to Lucette’s, Jezza thought. Let’s see, little bit of stage magic.

  Before you go, the tree said, take these!

  Hm?

  Oh, of course! There was a small, sword-shaped stick, and a wooden focus staff settled on the branch in front of her now. She’d need the focus staff for anything above a cantrip, and the stick was probably for Djanara. Jezza took both, laughed, twirled the focus in her fingers.

  Disappeared.

  “Where’d she go?” A townsperson cried. Really? It was a tier two spell – dabblers could make themselves invisible.

  Now truly unseen, Jezza wiggled her way out of the tree before the townspeople got themselves too worked up. She felt a small pang of guilt as she moved around Djanara and mom, but she definitely didn’t want to get them wrapped up in the aftershock of the scene.

  Jezza waited until she was at the edge of the northern forest before dropping her invisibility. She cast a glance behind, able to look down at the valley from atop the knob and nearly fell over when she saw the wolf-folk woman bounding up the hill toward her on all fours. Top speed. Unsure of how to react, Jezza nervously backed up until she closed the distance and stopped.

  “How’d you know where I was going?” Jezza asked.

  “Your mom knew exactly where you were going,” Djanara grumbled, not even out of breath. She stood up and crossed her arms. “And I don’t blame you, frankly. She’s staying back there to try and smooth it out. But I wanna come with, because those people are fuckin’ shit.”

  Jezza smirked. The tree really was funny. She hadn’t planned to bring Djanara to Lucette’s, but that flipped the moment she saw the sword-stick.

  “Here,” Jezza offered up the stick. “You’ll need this if you’re coming.”

  Djanara awkwardly took it. She looked at it for a while, then to Jezza.

  “What,” Djanara inquired.

  “We’re going to a fae enclave,” Jezza said. “Up a ways into the forest. No shaped metal!”

  “Is that um,” Djanara scratched the back of her neck. “Safe?”

  Jezza thought about it.

  “If the password is still the same after all this time,” Jezza smiled at last, “then I can guarantee your safety.”

  Djanara gave her a hesitant look.

  “Can I see the fairies?” Djanara asked, voice uncharacteristically small and timid.

  “If you promise you’ll be gentle,” Jezza answered, giving a knowing smile. “You didn’t strike me as the fairy type at first, but now I kind of see it.”

  “I always liked the fae stories,” Djanara admitted. “They were cute.”

  For the first time, her severed tail twitched twice in a wag-adjacent manner.