Spring. After the long and strange winter, it was more than welcomed, and nature seemed determined to make up for past hardships. When the last of the cold weather broke, a week or so after the incident in the newly-freed fiefdom of the late and unlamented Viscount Carunirian, every tree on the whole continent, it seemed, burst into bloom at once. Grass grew lush and green virtually overnight, and farmers exclaimed that the seed in their fields was practically groaning as it leapt up from the earth. An astonishing number of multiple births was reported across the continent, among both the animal and human populations, and a not-so-astonishing number of betrothals occurred at the same time. Elders nodded sagely and remarked that it was all a sign that the gods were pleased.
Perhaps they were right.
"You're certain?" Mamu asked, frowning, leaning forward a bit in her throne.
"As certain as anyone can be, given the situation," Mirufi assured her quietly, gazing at the floor. "Their communion with their... other selves... was incomplete at best---which is to be expected. But both Marron and Gateau were left with very clear assurances that the Shichuuten are as whole as ever, and that the next time the Destroyer rises, all four gods will be there to face him on the field of battle. Apparently Kaaruman-sama was able to persuade Yakushia-sama to take up his ancient obligation again. Or Yakushia-sama changed his mind on his own. Or something else. We may never know."
Mamu sighed, sitting back and resting her chin on one hand, absently nibbling one thumbnail. "I could hope for more," she said, finally, "but they say it isn't wise to question the ways of the gods. However bizarrely they might behave." She sighed again. "Very well, then. At least heavenly matters seem to be back in order. Earthly affairs, though..." She shook her head, ruefully, and smiled without humor. "The Sorcerers' Council was most displeased by the additional evidence we obtained of Carunirian's use of the Kinjyu. That's something even they don't like to see, especially in the hands of someone they all knew to be mad although they politely pretended otherwise. Naturally they wasted no time in withdrawing their protest over his and his cohorts' unexplained deaths."
"Respectfully, Mamu-sama---I detect a note of sarcasm in your voice. These are the esteemed lords of our continent, of which we speak."
"The esteemed lords of our continent, Mirufi, only listened to me because I casually mentioned evidence of bribery in the matter of the Conclave's official censure, and threatened to open an inquiry into their respective personal treasuries. And thus another war is averted through eleventh-hour diplomacy." She sighed and straightened. "I should be more positive. The crisis was averted, at least." Her expression sobered, abruptly. "Although at a cost I may never forgive myself for paying."
"The prophetic lines were clear, Mamu." They both turned to face the middle-aged woman who stepped out from the curtains behind Mamu's throne. "Had Zeii lived, the whole continent would have descended into war. One life for thousands." She shook her head. "Zeii knew his fate beforehand, and accepted it."
"I know. But it makes it no less painful, Nashi-san."
Nashi nodded, solemnly. "Not the least for those of us who knew him the shortest amount of time."
Mamu sighed heavily, nodding, and turned to Mirufi again. "Marron. How is he?"
Mirufi shook his head, slowly. "That remains to be seen."
The bird was chattering away about its morning, describing in great, if fleeting, detail each of the insects it had eaten and each of the females with which it had flirted. Marron nodded gravely, listening with great respect. Zeii had once mentioned that there was wisdom in the thoughts of animals. Given his recent experiences, he had decided that wisdom was something he badly needed, these days.
Someone else was in the garden with him. He reached and felt the presence of Mirufi, and sighed inwardly. "Come to pick my brains again?"
Mirufi stepped into the clearing near the fountain, startling the bird, who flitted away with a raucous curse in the Haz Knight's direction. "Not this time," he said, moving to sit on another shelf of the fountain. Marron turned to gaze at the water falling from one tier to the other of the natural sculpture. Beside them, in the pool, koi cavorted in bright-colored flickers, hoping for food.
"Carrot left a few days ago, ne?"
"Aa. He should be home by now, with Tira and Tousan. And the baby. I'm under orders to visit sometime before the year is out."
Mirufi smiled, then hesitated before speaking again. "Heard anything from Gateau?"
Marron glanced at Mirufi with his eyes only, keeping his face turned toward the water. "It's only been a week."
"I'd hoped."
Marron leaned his head back against the stone and closed his eyes. "He said he needed time, Mirufi. So do I."
"The man was willing to die for you."
Marron shrugged. "That was love. This is life. Years of lies, half-truths, and betrayals aren't exactly something one can get over quickly. And then there's Zeii."
They both fell silent, at that, for a while. Marron conjured a bit of grain, and fed the fish.
"So what do you plan to do, now?" Mirufi asked at length, watching the water ripple.
"I plan to sit here and chat with the creatures of this garden, and try to remember how to play my flute, and think about nothing."
"For how long?"
"Until Mamu's hospitality is exhausted or I discover a reason to leave, whichever comes first. I have several months of vacation time banked from when I was a Sorcerer Hunter."
"You're still freeloading. You went catatonic for three years and got fired. No benefits for you."
Mirufi released the breath he'd been holding when a slight, tired smile crossed Marron's face.
"So. What is it you want me to do, then? You haven't been inquiring about my future plans for your health. I know you, Knight Captain. There's always something up your sleeve."
Mirufi rolled up one sleeve to show Marron his bare arm. "The Haz Knights have numbered only four since your father retired. We could be five again."
Marron frowned and looked up at Mirufi swiftly, but there was nothing hidden in the other Mage's eyes. The offer was sincere.
While he mulled in silence, Mirufi dropped the other shoe. "And Nashi-san would have my head if I didn't mention your other job offer. The new Mizu School still needs a headmaster. She's only been holding the place until the time was right for you---"
Marron scowled. "No."
"No one would be expecting you to replace Zeii, Marron."
"Yes, they would. I would. And I can't. How can I teach others when there's still so much I have left to learn, myself? No."
A sigh. "Then the other...?"
He considered, trailing fingertips in the water; the fish nipped at them half-heartedly. Long ago, he knew, Zeii had been offered the position, and refused it; his heart had been in teaching. His father had taken the post, but only on the condition that he be permitted to keep his mortality and his family.
He was neither a teacher nor a father nor mortal. Nor was he, any longer, a lover.
And yet...
The Sorcerer Hunters, his brother and the others, were behind him now; they would never work together again. This, however, was a new team.
He lifted his hand from the water and shook it off, then looked up into Mirufi's waiting gaze. "I'll do it."
For those who'd believed the spring to be perfect, the summer stunned them all. Clear, golden skies with only the occasional freshening rain dominated, from the northernmost regions to the southernmost, and the heat was only occasionally oppressive. For the most part, the days were just fine.
The beaches of the continent had been packed on an almost daily basis since the start of the summer season, and the profusion of brightly-colored sashes and barely-there swimsuits was so great on the strip near the town of Jiinja that the sand seemed buried in strange, two-legged butterflies.
The man and woman standing on the pier overlooking the beach were dressed more conservatively; they merely watched the crowds mill about and enjoy themselves. Periodically the woman glanced over at her companion, questioningly, but he said nothing, and after a while she sighed.
He glanced at her, finally, and smiled a little. "Gomen ne. Go ahead, if you want, Eclair. They're having a 'Best Body' contest, later this evening. I know you'll win."
"Not if you're in it."
He chuckled, and she watched him, noting the telltale softness of his voice, the faint shadows lingering in his eyes. "I won't be, don't worry."
She frowned. "Niisan---"
He shook his head, quickly, and turned to her, gently taking hold of her shoulders. "Daijoubu. You've been pushing me to do it for weeks. It's time I left."
She brightened, then gnawed her bottom lip, pensively. "Are you sure it's all right?"
Gateau smiled reassuringly at her. "Nope. But I'll never know unless I give it a try, now, will I?" He pulled her forward and planted a kiss on her forehead, right between her raised eyebrows. "Now. You be good. I'll write when I can."
"You're going now?"
He let go of her and bent to pick up the pack that, until now, she hadn't noticed; he slung it over his shoulder and smiled. "No time like the present." He turned away, then paused to glance back at her, over his shoulder. "Ja ne."
Eclair watched Gateau walk away, and wondered if he would ever be truly happy again.
The stick caught him on the crown of his head, in a spot that was already sore; he stumbled forward and spat a stream of curses and whirled before the stars could completely fade from his vision. "Tira, what the hell---"
Onion smirked at him. In Onion's arms sat Carrot's son, grinning and pushing up his glasses with one hand. In the other, the boy held Tira's favorite staff, clutched tightly in his grubby, fat little fingers.
Carrot stared at the boy, then glared over at Tira, who only smiled serenely and set another dish on the table.
"Got an arm on him, ne?" Onion grinned. "Chip off the old block, I'd say. He's gonna be a strong little bugger."
Carrot made himself smile back, sourly. "Radittsu-chan," he said, in his sweetest voice, "give Papa the stick. Ne?"
His son, the little hellspawned traitor, fetched him another clout over the head before he could blink, and giggled while he yelped and stumbled back.
"Mama says I have to give you a hit for every day you stayed away without writing, Papa," Radittsu said when he'd recovered and glared at the boy.
And then the brat smiled.
Carrot stared at his child in dim, swiftly-growing horror.
Onion leaned forward and grinned conspiratorially. "Should've stuck to boys, like your brother."
He reached the town around sunset. He could have made the trip faster by renting a carriage, but his money had gone toward other things and besides, he needed the exercise.
The old street was the same as he'd left it. He paused for a moment to watch the people walking past, and marveled that it had been only a few months since he'd left. The aura of the place, at least, was more welcoming than it had been, then, or so it seemed. He hoped his intuition was right.
There was no "For Rent" sign in the window of the storefront, which meant that the owner hadn't yet put the upstairs apartment up for lease. It was a good sign, he hoped. His key still worked in the downstairs lock, which was an even better sign. But he'd learned long ago not to put much faith in signs and portents. Fate was fate. Better to face it head-on.
He reached the door, raised a fist, hesitated for only a second, and then knocked.
The door was snatched open almost immediately, to his surprise. "I said I didn't want any---"
He smiled, weakly. "Hi."
Kei blinked. His mouth worked automatically, flapping once before managing sound. "Hi."
Gateau nodded, several times, and swallowed to moisten his throat. "So."
The shock was leaving Kei's face, slowly; his death-grip on the door-edge eased. He managed to take a complete breath. "...So."
Gateau nodded again, and lifted the object he'd held in his other hand. It took a moment's fumbling, but then he got the box open. Kei looked, and his hand tightened on the old wood again.
Gateau took a deep breath. "So. Want to get married?"
Several hours later.
"Yes."
"There's a catch."
"Yes."
"It's---"
"Yes."
"Kei---"
"Shut up, Gateau. You always want to talk at the worst possible times. Gods. Yes, I said, damn you. Don't stop."
Summer drew to a close. As the cycle of the seasons began its slow wind toward winter again, fall became a time of celebration. The harvests that year were the best anyone had ever seen. All over the land, hearsay had it, grapevines had split with the weight of the bunches, and the fat rice-grains had practically fallen from the stalks on their own. Year-end festivals from the most humble peasant barn-dances to the most fabulous of Sorcerer galas became near-riotous events so spectacular that people would be talking about them for decades to come.
And there were many more of what the old folks liked to call, "those special autumn days." Days when the wind was just beginning to chill and blew often, laden heavily with the smells of spiced baking and sweet leaves. When the colors of the warmer end of the spectrum conquered the land, and painted everything red and gold and a thousand shades of brown. Days when the air had a clarity that made even distant mountains sharply visible. And the sky was so deeply blue and free of clouds that looking up could capture the eye for hours.
Things end, in the fall.
The valley had not yet fully recovered from the ravages of the battle that had occurred four years before. Perhaps it never would. It was fitting, he decided as he walked up the old path. The wards were overgrown, now; with no maintenance and no magic powering them, they were just odd designs in the rock and wood and clay along the path. There was no sense of homecoming, this time. He had expected none. Whatever subtle aura there had been, once, that made the valley special, was long gone.
Change was natural. Death, inevitable. Even he, immortal as he was, would die, someday. The challenge and the beauty lay in enjoying life while it lasted, and making even the shortest time worthwhile.
"I understand that, now," he murmured, before stepping onto the flat, featureless plateau of stone that had once been the Mizu School.
No memories plagued him. The past was the past. He had learned much, in his time here. Much more in the time since he'd left. There was no point in regretting what he'd lost, when he'd had all of it for a short while. No point in remembering only the pains when the pleasures had been just as intense.
He stopped when his senses told him that he'd reached the right spot, and knelt in the dust. Then lifted the white rose he'd brought with him, brought it to his lips, and kissed it. Where his lips touched the tips of the petals, they glimmered for a moment before turning a deep blue that shifted, subtly, as the light changed. The same blue of the sea, and the sky, and Zeii's eyes.
"Sayonara," Marron said, and laid the rose down.
The old woman at the Stellar Church had been right. He waited, leaning against the tree, and watched Marron make his way through the forest, stepping gracefully through leaves that crunched beneath his feet. The young mage's eyes were downcast and inwardly-focused; his thoughts seemed a million miles away. It was no surprise to Gateau, then, that Marron stopped in surprise when he reached the clearing and finally looked up. He stared blankly at Gateau for a long moment, too surprised to speak.
Gateau straightened, unfolding his arms. "Hi," he said.
Kei, leaning against a tree on the other side of the clearing, straightened as well, smiling. "Hi."
Marron blinked. "...Hi."
Gateau slipped a hand into one pocket and lowered his head, using the other to rub his nose with a finger. "So."
Kei tossed his hair and smirked; he was enjoying this. "So."
Marron frowned, looking from one to the other of them in slowly-building unease. "...So."
The leaves, they later decided, had been particularly fragrant, that day.
Not far from the clearing, on the plateau which had once been the home of generations of children and the source of much of the world's magic, only dust stirred. The buildings were gone, as were even the cobblestones that once made up the school's streets. The garden had been scoured far past the topsoil, down to the bare, cold, infertile stone of the mountain bedrock.
But in the center of that barren, forbidding circle of stone, in the shade of the mountain, roots impossibly thrust into the rock itself, a single white rose, blue-tipped, grew.
**End "Adiemus."
Comments to Nora? (Yes, this is a hint)