Page 45 of Angel in Absentia
“They say this chasm was formed during a deadly battle between ancient Venennin,” Idan said.
“Who is they? The Venennin?” Clea asked as she and Iris exchanged glances, Iris offering a humorous snort.
“Hey,” he said, shaking a stick he’d been whittling at both of them. “History is full of grandeur. Veilin still have heroes too. In fact”—he shook it at Clea—“you should meet Tenida.”
“Tenida?” Clea asked.
“Oh, yes,” Iris said. “Tenida. Clea, you must. She is a healer in Ruedom of grand renown. She is the lead healer of the advent of healing. Ruedom has the oldest healing temple on record. You should drop by after they bring us the weapon from the lab.”
“And then we will take you out into the city for the night,” Idan said, continuing his whittling. “I’m anxious to get out.”
“Loda makes him restless,” Iris replied.
“The whole place feels like work,” he muttered back. Iris glanced over at Clea as if to see if she found any offense in the comment. It was unusually blunt for Idan, who was often so intent on sugaring his words, but Clea guessed that a long time in another city without Ruedom’s comforts would be grating on anyone.
She was reminded of those comforts when she at last came upon the city. The walls were grander and more polished than Loda’s. The buildings were massive, illuminated with a mixture of fires and artificial lighting that was banned in Loda and coveted by the wealthy. A vast river wound around the city, serving as a protective moat on one flank with a distant view of the ocean on the other.
They didn’t have a fortified castle or cobblestone and dirt streets. They had intricate farming systems and vast academies dedicated to nothing but pursuits of the mind, and Clea envied them as she walked through the streets again. In another world, she would have loved to have grown up in Ruedom, because no matter her studies, even now, she’d worked hard to learn just as much as their adolescents had already mastered.
The city streets were brimming with color and invention and dotted with the occasional oddity like a mostly nude acrobat or a musician with a painted face who wore clothes that not only seemed foreign to Loda but to the world.
They perused the streets until they came upon a row of villas. Inside one, Clea dropped her heavy leather bag against a stone kitchen island and wandered out to a beautiful balcony overlooking the city. She grasped the rod of the balcony and took in the morning air. She’d slept with determination on the voyage here, ensuring she’d be wide awake for her first day and capable of soaking in everything the city had to offer.
Idan met her on the balcony, and as Clea looked out and strained to see over the next line of buildings, she slid sideways and caught herself, embarrassed to be so taken with the city.
“It’s all right,” he said, leaning back against the railing with a raised eyebrow. “I have that effect on people.”
She chuckled and considered him in the morning light as Iris changed clothes in her room inside. Idan smoked on the porch as he pointed out different spots in the city and answered Clea’s questions. After there were no questions left, Clea settled into silence and simply watched him for a moment with the city of Ruedom behind him. It was the picture of a possible future.
Idan was distracted, tiredly rolling the cigarette back and forth between his fingers. He was intelligent and well read. He was handsome by any standard. His black hair was always carefully combed, clothes always in order. He was somewhat feminine for a Lodain man, but it was the style in Ruedom. He was humorous and well spoken. They weren’t all qualities that drew her in, but she acknowledged them and what it took to be those things. Hewould be a suitable partner and father, and she imagined she’d grow to respect him in time.
“What?” he raised an eyebrow when he noticed her starring.
“I suppose you’re marriable,” she said flatly, and she meant it honestly.
He laughed, used to her bluntness. “Gods, Clea. That’s a Lodain proposal if I’ve ever heard one. I at least expect some flowers,” he offered her his hand, “and the prettiest ring.”
She laughed and he chuckled at her laughter before coughing on the smoke and covering his mouth. He ran a hand through his hair as he regained his breath. “You’re a terrifying bride,” he said.
“Terrifying?” she asked before Iris joined them in an angular, navy dress suit which was commonplace in Ruedom. Clea had never considered anything about herself even remotely frightening.
“Yes,” he said, gesturing to her with one hand, cigarette still in the other. “You look so well-meaning, and still I never know what heavy handed truth is about to make its way out of your mouth.”
“It’s because Idan has a natural fear of the truth,” Iris mocked, propping herself up against the railing before there was a knock at the door.
Iris and Clea stood side by side as Idan welcomed inside a tall and rather broad man whom Idan referred to as Merune. Clea recognized the name, delighted as Merune laid a long leather case over the living room table and popped it open.
Ryson’s scythe was inside.
She’d buried it during the last leg of her journey to Loda, not waiting to show up at the Lodain walls with such a questionable object strapped to her back. Once she’d gotten settled, she’d managed to recover it and ferry it to Ruedom during her initial trip here a year ago.
Merune gave them a moment to soak in the sight, ringed fingers moving a long brown ponytail from one shoulder to the other.
“Good to see you, Clea,” he said to her, offering a brief nod. He was dressed in a professional gray shirt and beige pants, a strange compliment to his long hair that was anything but professional in her own city.
“I believe I’ve only met the members of your lab,” Clea said. “It’s nice to meet you in person.”
“They were dismayed they couldn’t be here,” Merune said, and she believed him.
