Giving - Chapter 1

A Favor

The late afternoon sun filtered in through the linen curtains, casting a dull glow over a cup of coffee, resting on a table adjacent to the window. Cela lifted the cup, cool to the touch though it was, and drained its contents. Even lukewarm coffee was delicious in the Deja Brew Café, a recently-opened coffee shop and bakery within the Lavender Beds that had quickly become one of Cela’s favorite spots for meetings. That the coffee had cooled was no one’s fault but her own; she had arrived early, wracked with anxiety about this particular meeting, and eager to drown her worries in caffeine and calories.

Cela Etien was her name. She was a young black-haired Miqo’te of some local renown, serving as a Second Lieutenant with the Order of the Twin Adder. She was in her early thirties, yet within her hometown of Gridania, even men and women of greater age would address her as “madam” or “Miss Cela”. She wore no uniform today, opting instead for a simple coat and pants. No subordinates or superiors accompanied her– at her table, she sat alone, at least for now. That was well, for though Cela was meeting a friend today, it was a meeting that she dreaded.

Cela’s quiet solitude was interrupted, as a server approached the table, holding a fresh pot of coffee and a few dishes. Cela looked up. The server was a dashing young Hyur– light brown hair, the barest bit of growth around his chin; just the sort that Cela imagined she would have found attractive, were she ever able to take her mind off work. This particular man had brought her first cup of coffee, and now filled it anew, wisps of inviting steam rising from it. He filled a second cup as well, sliding this to the other side of the table– along with a plate, adorned with a freshly-baked croissant.

“For the little lady,” explained the server, before taking his leave.

The “little lady” was Cela’s guest, who now took her place at the opposite side of the table, having just arrived. She was Cai Linn– a conjurer, though without either cane or wand today; a Lalafell, tall by the standards of the race, but short in comparison to any other. She had dressed for the autumn weather, wearing a long, darkly-colored skirt and a quilted jacket to match. Cela groaned inwardly at seeing the latter of these, recognizing it as a jacket that Cai had made herself, long ago. The clothes were well-made, warm, and comfortable– but drab, particularly in contrast with the Lalafell’s radiant auburn hair.

Cela grinned. “It’s good to see you, Cai,” she spoke. And this much was true, despite whatever anxiety she felt. Cai Linn was one of Cela’s oldest, dearest friends. The Lalafell returned Cela’s smile with one of her own, her brown eyes sparkling with genuine adoration.

Cai took a few moments more to situate herself. Deja Brew kept cushions on hand for the benefit of Lalafellin customers who preferred to kneel atop the bench rather than sit, and Cai made use of one of these now in a practiced fashion to which Cela had long since become accustomed. Cai then took a sip of her coffee, and seemed to like it well enough. But she made no move to remove her jacket.

“That jacket again?” Cela sighed.

Cai took a bite from her croissant, bits of flaky pastry raining down upon the plate. She shot Cela a playful glare, then tapped her jacket and flashed an emphatic thumbs-up, chewing furiously all the while.

Cela shook her head. “One of these days, Cai, you’re going to learn the value of high fashion. You can continue making your own clothes if you insist, but your style… needs more effort.”

Cai chewed, and swallowed. “High fashion is for tall people, dear Cela. Too high for me. ‘Comfort’ is a style, yeah? It suits me well, wouldn’t you say?”

“It suits you, but you would have more suitors if you didn’t wear that jacket,” Cela replied, gesturing inexplicably in the jacket’s general direction. “You’ve had it for, what– seven years?”

“Since the Calamity, yes,” Cai agreed.

“That jacket is a perpetual Calamity, Cai.” The young Lalafell laughed at this, and Cela relaxed further. It troubled Cela to realize the extent of her own anxiety about meeting up with her friend. Until only a year ago, the two had lived together– an arrangement that had served Cela comfortably, until Cai had saved enough gil for her own small house nearby. It was natural that Cai should want to live independently, but when Cai had left, she carried heavy emotional burdens that Cela had never been able to help lighten. Meeting up with Cai again, not to help her but to ask a favor of her, was something Cela would never have considered– were it not her duty as an officer.

The two made some light small talk for awhile, long enough that the coffee again grew lukewarm. But small talk it was; and, knowing as Cai did that today’s matter concerned the Order of the Twin Adder, it was she who first suggested that they continue the conversation elsewhere. The dishes were cleared, the bill paid, and the server admired one final time before Cela and Cai walked outside.

The crisp autumn afternoon was turning to evening, and Cela perceived that the sky over the Lavender Beds was nearly the color of Cai’s hair– though most of the trees in this woodland town were as covered with leafy green in autumn as they were in spring. The trees lining the exterior of the Deja Brew market were an exception, though. They had been outside only a few moments, and already Cela had picked two dull, crunchy leaves out of her hair.

A young woman asked their pardon as she walked past, carrying a bundle of carrots and a few popotoes. Cela realized that the market was much busier now than when she had arrived at Deja Brew earlier. It made sense, of course; it was early evening now. All around the Lavender Beds were houses and shops, Gridanian citizens walking the paths up hills and over bridges with small handfuls of goods– supplies for local tradesmen and women, vegetables and herbs and fish from market, bundles of laundry and tailoring to deliver, and even the occasional bottle of spirits. For most of the day, this much foot traffic near Deja Brew would be surprising, but it was early evening, and for many local families it would soon be dinnertime.

Cela breathed in deeply, enjoying the cool air and the local energy in equal measure. This was her home. It was her home, and so it had always been– first as the youngest child of an admittedly well-to-do family, but now as a grown woman with a house of her own and a proud responsibility to her friends and neighbors. In the course of Cela’s duties as a member of the Order of the Twin Adder, the Lavender Beds was only one part of the Gridania that she was sworn to defend, but this was where she most loved to be.

“Autumn at last,” sighed Cai.

“It’s your favorite time of year too, right?” Cela said. Cai nodded– a gesture that, like so many others, her taller companions rarely noticed. But Cela had long since learned to pay closer attention.

The two of them walked together up a hill, across a bridge, then a longer bridge– crossing over one of the many rivers leading away from the massive waterfall near the Gridania gate. It was toward this waterfall that they walked, not so much to enjoy the view as to benefit from the cover of ambient noise. Waterfalls were as loud as they were inspiring. This could often leave tourists confused, but in the Lavender Beds, the result was a relatively private place to have a conversation– if you were willing to put in the effort to be heard.

At the far end of the last bridge, there was a bench, nearest to the waterfall. Cai seated herself there, but Cela sat on the ground in front of the bench. This she did without thinking, and without objection from Cai, so often had they practiced it.

Cai held Cela’s gaze, and began to speak.

“Nod if you can hear me.”

Cela nodded. Cai’s words came out as clearly as if she had spoken them directly into Cela’s ear. At first, the young Miqo’te was taken aback– but she knew she should not have been. Cai Linn was not a woman of high fashion, but she was among the best conjurers in all Gridania. Manipulating ambient elemental aether to focus and amplify a conversation was something she could easily do, even without a cane or wand.

Though trained as a conjurer herself, Cela was not as strong in conjury as Cai was, and would need a wand at the very least to respond in kind. Responding to Cai here would mean shouting over the waterfall, and she preferred to avoid that if possible.

For good or ill, Cai came straight to the point.

“I presume this is a matter regarding mediumship.”

Cela’s heart sank. Cai had seen through her, right from the start.

“Cela, it’s all right. I just need confirmation. You need a spirit medium, yeah?”

Cela nodded.

“And this is for the Order?”

Another nod.

“Then I will not refuse. As soon as possible, I presume?”

And another. Cela had worked with Cai for long enough by now that none of this should surprise her, but Cai’s professional demeanor was very much appreciated at the moment– not only for keeping the conversation brief, and focused, but also for keeping Cela’s own mind from focusing on negative emotions. There would be time enough for those, after.

“Can you arrange for a secure chamber within the Conjurer’s Guild at dusk tomorrow? Someone with a relationship to the guest will need to be there… and a few of the guest’s belongings, if possible.”

Cela nodded.

“Thank you.” There was a pause, and then… “I’d also like to ask for a backup conjurer, just in case. Elthea of the Guild should be available.”

She would, of course, make any necessary arrangements. The request for Cai’s services had come from her commanding officer, and as Cai had intuited, there was some degree of urgency surrounding the request. Whatever resources were required would be made available, and no one involved would know the requirements better than Cai herself. But something in Cela’s expression must have belied her own unease; for Cai’s eyes were softer now, filled with concern and care, not with apprehension or fear as Cela had imagined.

The Lalafell stepped forward, and leaned in to touch her forehead against Cela’s, just for a moment or two.

“It will be all right, dear friend.”

And then she was gone, her soft footsteps fading as she crossed the bridge, returning to her home.

Cela sighed, and composed herself as best she could. There, she thought. It’s done. The thing is done, and I have to move. There were still so many arrangements to make before the following evening. Whether or not she was prepared for what she would learn, it was her duty to press forward– there was no going back now.