Chapter 191: Day 190

Day 190,

At the library, taking a break from what little work I have to do now that classes are done for the season.  Really drives home how laid back my days were by comparison.  Oh, just remembered that my extrapolated census project got put on abrupt hold with my illness.  I ought to figure out where I left off with that.  

But later.  For now, back to yesterday.  

To my surprise, we passed right on by the market forum upon entering the Village proper and went straight on to the library.  It seems solstice family time was to take priority over the usual weekly activities and Cass was already at the library.

As it turned out, Pat, my class, and a number of their parents were as well.  Although the day before had technically been the last day of lessons for the season, someone had gotten the idea of sticking around for one more day to surprise me with a mass thank you/welcome back.  I’m told it was Pat’s idea to dig one of the smaller blank books out of storage and have all the kids write or draw something then sign it on the first few pages.  I’ll  admit to getting somewhat choked up over that.

When I asked Pat later why I’d never seen anything like that among the old archivist’s things, he told me they sent it with his body to the Catacombs.  I must have flinched at the reminder, for Pat asked me if there was more wrong than just recovering from illness.  I told him I’d like to talk to him about it once everyone was gone.

And everyone being gone took some time.  As much as I genuinely appreciated the sentiment behind the gesture, having that many people focused on me and wanting to talk, especially when I wasn’t expecting it, quickly became overwhelming.  By the time the parents of the kid whom I contracted the Children’s Fever from got to me and were practically falling over one another with apologies I was out of it enough that I doubt I’ll recognize their faces the next time I see them.  Maybe just as well.  It made it easier to give them a half-distracted platitude about not needing to blame themselves for it and that I was like as not to catch it sooner or later anyway so may as well get it out of the way now.  That is to say, made it easier to give such an answer instead of accidentally letting festering resentment and blame come into focus.

It is however, difficult to complain about having baskets of foodstuffs foisted on me.  Between payment for a season of teaching and neighborly care packages for my convalescence, I wound up with more than I was likely able to get through on my own before it goes bad.

Meanwhile, Cass’s family was listening to her talk about her apprenticeship and how she’d kept things running while I was away, with the occasional piping up from one of the students to support her claims.

I don’t know if it was coincidence or if it was brought on by me being emotionally charged and stressed by the over-crowded, increasingly noisy classroom space of the library’s entry hall, but after this had all gone on for a while I had another… episode.  Another brief flash to the Catacomb Depths.  Lin, who’d been quietly watching from the side must have recognized what was happening and finally spoke up, invoking her authority as (assistant) Village doctor to remind everyone that I’m still recovering and need rest and quiet.  The part of my mind that wasn’t busy trying not to hyperventilate registered that Cass was taking the lead in getting her family out and Pat was adding his own gentle reminders of places people needed to be and how some of the parents and kids would need to leave soon to get back to their homes in the outskirts in time for solstice dinner, so I assume those two picked up on the fact that something was off as well, even if they didn’t know the specifics.

Before too long, but not soon enough, it was down to me, Lin, and Pat.  I thanked them both, Lin especially, and then asked Pat if I could talk to him in private.  I didn’t mean to exclude Lin, but I wasn’t going to be going over anything she didn’t already know and I didn’t know if I could properly handle more than a one-on-one conversation at the moment.  I said as much.

Lin said she got it and would wait upstairs if I needed her.  As for Pat, it was obvious to him that something was wrong and he was all too willing to lend an ear.  He called it the least he could do.

And so, downstairs, in the archive among the shelves and starry crystals, seated at a table a ways from the stairs I told Pat everything I’d been through the past… well I was going to say “few weeks” but “month” is more like it at this point, starting with my “dance” with the sprites.

It took a few hours to get through.  My relating of events was fractured with starts and stops of needing to collect myself before continuing mixed with a lot of asking Pat to hold questions, comments, sage advice, and words of sympathy until I finished (and then me repeatedly immediately apologizing for acting in such a way).  Dancing around mentioning Maiko also rather stretched things out.  I’m still not sure if he picked up that I was hiding something, but if he did, he didn’t comment on it.

By the end, I was exhausted, emotionally, mentally, and physically, but I was ready to hear what Pat had to say.  I’m choosing to find his responses comforting.

As for the dance or ritual or whatever that was with the nature sprites, he said he’d heard of such an event happening on a handful of occasions before - perhaps once a century or so, give or take a few decades - and it was the most extreme thing he’s ever known a nature sprite haunting an individual to do to them.  As for the purpose of such gatherings, we humans can only guess at.  One victim/guest believed - as I had considered as a possibility - that “his sprite” was officially marking or claiming him as theirs and theirs alone.  Another was convinced that it was a ritual for summoning the Wandering God, for that was how the gatherings always seemed to end, but as to why call upon it she never could figure out.

Comforting as it was to be told that I wasn’t likely to get a repeat of that night or anything worse, I couldn’t help but think about both the time another sprite or something had taken an interest in me and seemingly fought “my” sprite over it and the strange happenings with myself, “my” sprite and the rhythm of the western island.

Pat told me that there were things out there - both spirit and animal - that very, very rarely took a more “aggressive” interest in humans, but it’s never for prolonged periods like the nature sprites prone to haunting do.  If there’s an upside to the haunting it’s that such sprites are - as I observed - “not inclined to share.”  But the thing with the rhythm, that hunting beat, and its effect on the sprite, that’s something Pat hadn’t heard of ever happening before.  Not to say it’s never happened, just that this was the first time he’s personally found out about it (afterall, I might not have told him if it weren’t for other circumstances - wait, did I ever tell the others about it?  I’ll have to check).  He’s not entirely sure what the implications of that might be, but from what I told him, it sounded like Siren Overlook cured the two of us of whatever that was.

Moving on to the flashes to the Catacomb Depths, Pat confirmed that’s the result of my trying to evade the dreams on the mist night.  He’s seen the same thing happen before to outsiders who tried doing that, but the good news is these episodes should go away with the next mist night so long as I sleep through it.  Once again he apologized and blamed himself for yet another thing that he should have warned me about but it was such an edge case that it slipped his mind.  I truly tire of hearing that excuse, but I lacked the energy to be angry with him at the time over it.  The other good news is that my plan for visiting Siren Overlook later in the day should at the very least reduce the frequency of the episodes until then.

The less good news was that he didn’t know for sure what to make of my fall in the nightmare and the wrecked state my body there now seemed to be in.  To his knowledge the bodies of those dreaming about the Catacombs mirror the dreamers’ waking bodies for better or for worse.  His best guess is that the fever somehow influenced things, and hopefully that “dream self” will properly heal over time to match my waking self.  A faint hope but I’ll take it.

Eventually, feeling comforted but very tired, I thanked Pat for the talk, let him know that there were other, less personal more historical topics I’d been meaning to bring up with him for some time that I’d be wanting to see him later about, and bid him a happy solstice.  He said that he was happy to help, but only asked that I come to him sooner about things like this in the future.  I told him I’d try to keep that in mind.

I’d like to say that I lent him my arm to help him up the stairs on the way out, but in my current state, it was more like supporting each other.

Upstairs Lin was still waiting for us.  I thanked her and apologized for the wait.  She said it was no trouble.  I suspect that was a lie, but it’s one whose sentiment I appreciate.

On his way out, Pat told Lin that she ought to stop by and visit him sometime herself.  She made a joke about him never being sick and likely to outlive us all.  He laughed and said that may be, but the last couple weeks couldn’t have been easy on her, nor is her usual work, and giving comforting talks is about all he’s good for these days.

A pause, and a less jovial grin than the elder’s usual.

He added that if there’s anyone other than her father that’s as used to seeing people go as she is, it’s him.

And with that he made his exit.

I swear the man makes a point of ending otherwise friendly conversations on cryptic or unsettling notes.  I said as much to Lin.  She laughed (more forced than normal) and said she’d take my word for it.

She asked if I minded her joining me for Siren Overlook.  I bit back the reflex to say she needn’t come along on my behalf and told her the more the merrier.  Not everything is about me, and like Pat just said, the past few weeks must have been hard on her too.  I’m not the only one in need of unwinding.

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The walk to the overlook and our time there was mostly in silence.  Not even Lin’s usual absent-minded (perhaps not the best adjective in hindsight, maybe not even accurate) humming, although that returned on the way back.  It was while seated up there in what had become a sort of usual spot on a pillar stump that I made my second journal entry that day.

Back in town we parted ways so she could spend solstice with her family.  I’d already been invited to join Cass’s for dinner.  (I wonder what Pat does on solstice?  Or Vernon?  Has he mentioned his family to me before?)  I declined offers to walk me there as politely as I could, insisting that I was fine for now and was perfectly safe in the Village.  I thanked her once more for all she’d done for me and bade her a good night and happy solstice.

Halfway to Norman and Marva’s while carrying some of the excess food I’d been given I was regretting that choice, but I made it eventually, after more than one rest stop and still winded.

The rest of the evening passed in a bit of a hazy blur, albeit a comfortable one.  Just too much, well everything, lately and I was checked out for the day.  I vaguely recall someone bringing up the idea of the Archivist telling a story, then someone else (maybe Cass?) pointing out how tired I looked/was (I think I might have actually nodded off at some point), and then Cass volunteering to do so.

I’ll never

 

Cass came up behind me and gave me an earful about spending the last couple hours writing instead of doing… well, anything else.  I was surprised to say the least.  And by that I mean I actually jumped when she first said something.  I’d gotten more than a little absorbed and lost track of time once again.  

Heh, she really is more like a partner than an apprentice with this whole archivist thing.  As I was starting to write when she interrupted me, I’ll never tell her that I can’t remember what story it was that she told last night.

The real reason she interrupted me though, was to let me know that her family was about to ride back out of the Village if I wanted a ride home.  I gladly accepted.

While I was locking up the archive on our way out, I told her to take a week or so off.  That she’d earned a break.  But if she wanted to stop by as a guest, either at the library or at the house, she was welcome to.  I had stuff both fun and not so fun to talk to her about.

I plan to spare her most of the details of sprite dance/ritual/whatever-that-was but she deserves an explanation for some of my recent (more than usual) weirdness, both with that and the Catacombs stuff.

And of course, now I’m back at the house.  Maiko was here waiting for me, actually hiding in the trees along the path to the dirt road to keep a lookout for me rather than in the house itself.  Perhaps a bit over protective, but I told her I appreciated the sentiment.

I filled her in on my talk with Pat and various things around it.  I also told her about the solstice tradition of dinner with family that I’d just learned about and that Lin had lost track of the date and forgotten about it until we got back.  We were a day late now, but it felt wrong that Maiko should be left out, so I proposed a small feast with just the two of us from the food the parents had heaped on me (I’d donated part of it to last night’s family dinner, but been told I needn’t part with as much as I’d planned just yet).

I like to think that the two of us had a good time of it, in our own laconic way, but as the night went on I could tell something was on her mind.

Eventually I asked.  Her mother?

Silence enough to worry I shouldn’t have asked.

Her mother.

Why’d I ask if I knew the answer and didn’t know how to follow up?

A nod.  Of solidarity?  Or of words failing me?

A nod in return.

The rest of the meal in silence.

Silence broken as we were cleaning the dishes.  An anecdote.

More followed.

I said enough to be engaged, but not so much as to interrupt or make it about me.

Sadness.  Loss.  Happiness.

Memories bittersweet.

Should Maiko ever tell those stories again, perhaps I’ll recount them here, but for tonight I’ll keep her confidence, even from future readers.

 

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