The afternoon sun was soft. It seemed to be gentle with everything it touched. As opposed to it's previous intensity of the summer. From what she could see, the island was glowing in it's warm yellow glow. The slope of the the switch backs up the foothills gave her a perfectly painted picture of the city. At this height, it was easy to see it's design. Cobble stone streets spiraling out from a courtyard at it's center. Roads weaved around behemoth trees. A countless amount of them with matching red bark scrapped the sky. Bridges, both solid, and swinging ones created another level between trees. Connecting the businesses and residences that existed above the streets below. Interspersed between the tree's wide girths were ancient wood buildings. Some two or three stories high.
Endless strings of colorful lanterns pulled it all together. They were the only things that were consistently found everywhere. Their colors paled in comparison to the palace. It stood in all it's grandeur at the far side of the city. White spires of different heights shot up to the clouds. It captured the brassy golds of the sun. Shedding light down on the city as if it too was a sun. A courtyard at it's side was obvious with it's manicured plants, even from a distance. The three stair cases that connected it to the city was dotted with beings.
The glittering water of the bay was also capturing the sunlight. It looked like fireflies dancing across the water. The crescent shape was followed on one side by a maze of docks. A boardwalk jutted the farthest into the waters depths. She could see the passenger ship that brought beings to and from the continent docked at it's end. Small ships and boats cut across the water like birds across a sky.
“Do you wish to go to the market this evening?”
Gledora's voice stole her attention from the carriage window. With a blink she looked at her. She was being looked over with a calm smile. A shake of her head.
“No, I have everything I need.” She replied.
Gledora's eyes stilled.
“It would be best you not dine alone tonight.”
“I could not intrude on your hospitality another time.” She said, feeling guilt.
Gledora lightly laughed, “It is not intrusion if I extend an invitation.”
“You have hosted me three evenings this week.”
“And now I wish to do so for a fourth.”
“I do not want to become a burden.”
Gledora's face turned to compassionate seriousness.
“How many times have we gone through such troubling times together since my care for you?”
She softly sighed and hung her head. Looking at her fingers, she tangled them up in her robes.
“Countless.” She meekly replied.
“Should you have learned by now that it is far better to recover your spirit over a table of shared company rather than at one in solitude?”
A soft laugh of humility left her, “I suppose I could use another lesson.”
“It is not another lesson you need, simply a reminder.”
She nodded.
“So much time passes that the memory of my trials fade.” She quietly said.
When she looked up, Gledora's smile had gotten wider.
“It may be my duty to care for you, but I am also your friend. Your burden and responsibility do not escape my notice. These times are difficult, the High Council demands much of you. So I make these requests to balance the scales.”
Knowing she was bested and there was no more use in arguement, she released a breath. Gratefulness overwhelmed her.
“I appreciate your care and attention.” She replied.
“You are welcome, it is a pleasure.”
Her handmaid at last seemed satisfied. Slightly readjusting herself, she went back to looking out the window. The overlook of the city was now replaced with a thick wood. Thriving plants on all levels. Vines crawling through any vantage point. Branches shaded the road from the sun. She caught a glimpse of brightly shining birds flying through swaying foliage.
“Have you pondered on your Prince?”
Another disruption of her observations. Still she kept her gaze fixated on the world outside as she contemplated her answer. A mix of memories and emotions arose.
“I dare not.” She at last replied
“Have you at least spoken to the Lesser Seers?”
“I have.”
“And their advice?”
“It was not anything I would not have deduced myself.”
“Such as?”
“All that is possible during this time is to be patient. Only time can alter what is. He must remain moot in my mind for now.”
“You do not entertain any thoughts?”
“It would be futile,” She let out a sigh, “As I have told you before, he made it clear he was not pleased with our pairing.”
“How can you be so sure? He did not verbally state so.”
“His behavior when I revealed our visions was drastic. The questions he asked during our last dance gave me the strong impression he was desperate for an alternate path.”
“I cannot blame him.”
“I cannot as well. The vision is such a heavy burden. Even if it was given to an elf, it would be crushing. For a human, it's weight is increased tenfold...”
She paused as she peered towards the front of the carriage. At the curve of the road approaching her house, she could just see the glistening coats of mighty jaguars pulling at their harnesses. Massive paws clawed the ground. Tails curved into the air. They were as last able to trot as the dirt road leveled out.
“…I suppose he was feeling disturbed about discovering he would take me as his mate in conjunction with other revelations.”
The carriage was slowing down now.
“His opinion may change by Spring.”
“I doubt it will be so,” She gripped the seat as they gracefully stopped, “It would be foolish to hope otherwise. Entertaining idealistic whimsies of a youth over him will only disappoint me further when we again make acquaintance. He may further reject me.”
“While this is true, do not lose hope entirely.” Gledora said as she shifted towards the door.
She gathered her robes in one hand to prepare for her exit.
“I dare not even keep it an ember in my heart,” She quietly replied, “It will cause me to be even more impatient than I already am.”
Gledora chuckled, “Your time to bask in the glow of love and affection will come.”
The statement both lifted and dropped her heart. A click. The door opened. Gledora slipped out first. When she saw her hand reach back in, she took it.
Her feet sunk into the moss, grass, and undergrowth. The sensation grounded her. As it always did. Her body and mind knew they were home, and immediately the relief set in. A smile tipped her face, as she breathed in the slightly salty breeze. She listened to it tickle the leaves. Felt it play with her robes. With a light step, she made her way to her own little piece of paradise.
A natural trail to her home had been established by hundreds of cycles of her feet passing through. It opened to a small clearing. Burried under vines, moss, and even more bright green trees and scraggly shrubbery was her weather worn cottage. As quaint as it was, it still held a destinct character. The round windows on either side of the age warped door always gave her the impression it was smiling at her.
“I will send Fyodor to fetch you.”
Gledora's call had her pause from taking the silver knob into her hand. She was already making her way down a weaving path.
“I will expect him.” She responded back.
For several more moments she watched her. The wood between their houses wasn't thick enough to hide Gledora. It was easy to catch glimpses of her heading towards another humble cottage on a sloping hillside. Content that her handmaid had safely reached her destination, she at last turned the knob and stepped in.
She placed her slippers side by side adjacent to an unraveling welcome rug. Wood smoothed by endless traffic lightly creaked under her feet. She glided through a room that functioned as many things. A sitting room, dining room, and study. Her desk sat under one of the windows. Gentle light danced across it's ebony surface. Love seat couch with faded green velvet boasted of several knit and crocheted blankets hung over it's arms. In front of it sat a squat tea table. Just large enough to hold a tea tray.
She passed by the small round dining table set for two. Into a tiny kitchen. Adorned simply with a well seasoned pot belly stove and a pantry filled to the brim with odds and ends. An icebox sat on a counter next to the shelves. It made a low hum from the Nissé cast spell that powered it's mechanisms. Grabbing a glass from door-less cabinets, she filled her glass from a squeaky faucet over a deep stone wash basin. She stared over the rim of the glass as she drank. Through another round window, she could clearly see the pens and coops of her precious quails. There was no logic to their construction. The pens and coops haphazardly ascended and descended the rolling hill of a clearing behind her house. Several dozen birds were joyfully hopping about. Nearly the same number pecked at the ground for missed seeds. The rest were strategically nestled in spots were the sun broke through the canopy. Their eyes were closed with ruffled feathers. She could imagine happy chirps and whistling calls.
Leaving the empty glass in the counter, she exchanged it for an empty basket. She eagerly stepped back into the sitting room towards the back door. Instantly her quails noticed. A large harmonized chorus of hungry song and chirps greeted her. It made her smile in happiness. They followed her as best they could on the other side of their wired enclosures as she walked by. Their chanting grew as she approached a large wooden box. It's wood was fairly new compared to everything else. The grain was still vibrant. Lifting the lid, she looked around it's contents of supplies. She pulled out a metal pail, and put the basket in it's place. The pail was outfitted with a lid clamped down onto a rubber seal.
Snapping it loose, she dug her hand into it. Assortment of seeds and grain fell through her fingers. She loved the comforting sensation as she grasped a handful in her palms. Flick of her wrist. It rained feed like a clouds dispensing their cargo. Fluttering and squawking. Beautiful feathers catching light. Slowly she tossed the feed. Both admiring and examining.
This was where she was happiest. Where her soul thrived. Her birds satiated her loneliness. Happy little friends that made her forget the outside world. It was more enjoyable to be in theirs. To imagine their thoughts. Simple ones, she knew. Like where to bask, who to pester, when to preen. There were days she wished she was a bird. Oblivious to the weight of life and it's complication. Content to eat and sleep without a care.
She approached a pen full of adolescent hens. Excitement had them jumping up as the seed fell. With a giggle she watched. Their little dances were adorable. A gentle prickle landed along her shoulder. Like a wave, the flock suddenly skittered to the far side of the pen. The prickle turned into pricks. White feathers wavered in the corner of her eye. As she gingerly turned her head, a big black glassy eye peered at her. Long, sharp, black beak held a folded parchment.
Scattering the last of the seed from her hand, she plucked the letter from the messenger bird's beak. Her name was written in neat, square like letters. A mild curiosity arose. She'd never seen that print before. Carefully she slipped it into the sash of her robes. The curiosity could wait. With soft affection, she dismissed the messenger bird with a stroke of her finger along it's beak. It used her shoulder to launch itself. She watched it's elegance soar into the blue sky.
She slowly finished her rounds. Plucked eggs from their nests. Removed soiled substrate and spread fresh hay. Cleaned out and freshened their baths. Dusting off her hands, she looked over her handy work. That familiar sense of pride. At last she picked up the basket of eggs and held it against her hip. Depositing it into the kitchen, she walked to her desk.
She pulled out the chair. Retrieved the letter from her sash as she sat down. Laid it on the surface, then prepared her ink, quill and and parchment for a reply. Back to the letter, she went about unfolding it. Ran her fingers over the ceases to flatten it. While she did so, she glanced at the first line. Her fingers twitched as her heart jerked across her ribs. Instantly the writing had her full attention.