Chapter 18: 21. What Does It Mean?

Rorri

 

Several months of weekly lessons passed. Rorri had all but forgotten the Widow, focusing solely on his studies. He made quick progress, mastering the simple tricks of light and color before moving on to subtler illusions of sound, scent, and touch. He treasured the time he spent with his tutor, whether shrinking under her scrutiny, bathing in her praise, or trading practical jokes. Her authenticity captivated him. He never sensed pretense in her speech, never felt the need to dissect each word to find the hidden meaning. She was his only respite from life on the Wall, where one could not survive without lying or cheating or sneaking, and duplicity always thickened the air.

Rorri was a terrible liar, but that was what Bilge was for. All he had to do was keep their secrets, and at that he was exceptional.

He used magic to distract potential witnesses when ‘on the job’, conjuring loud crashes, moving shadows, anything to keep eyes off of him. Pick-pocketing was easier than ever, though he still relied on Bilge and Adar to distract when the job required precision. Though the Snow seemed to strengthen his ability to evoke, he couldn’t hold an illusion while picking a lock at the same time. He tried to, once, practicing on his bedroom door, but he nearly set it on fire, instead. Its handle still bore the shameful black scorch mark, and Bilge refused to let him live it down.

He later asked Shacia what the difference was between illuding something happening and making it actually happen.

“It’s all about intent,” she said, tilting lazily back in her chair. “Do you wish to change reality, or only change the way it seems?”

“What if you’re not sure?” Rorri asked, sketching the outline of his bedroom door in his notebook.

“Then don’t do it,” she said. “Depending on what you’re evoking, the consequences could be catastrophic. You’d have to be quite powerful to do real damage, of course, but it isn’t worth the risk.”

Rorri’s pen strokes became scribbly and harsh, a distant look clouding his eyes. Shacia watched him closely.

“Do you understand, Mr. Tipón?” she said, leaning forward. Rorri glanced up and away, narrowly missing her intense gaze.

“I think so, yes,” he said, just as the pen’s tip broke, splattering ink all over the page.

 

*******

 

“Extra-curricula’ activities?” Bilge parroted slowly. “Fuck is ‘at?”

“No idea. I was hoping one of you might know.” Rorri leaned back in the kitchen chair, causing its front legs to hover.

Adar stood with his shoulder pressed in the doorway, nibbling on an ear of corn. “Are you sure you don’t want one?” he asked, addressing both of his housemates. “I boiled a whole pot.”

Bilge and Rorri murmured their no-thank-yous, avoiding the silver elf’s eyes.

“You went to school here, right?” Rorri scooted the chair, leaving marks on the floor. “Do you know what it means?”

Adar finished chewing through a kernel, then lowered the cob with a sigh. “Why didn’t you ask her yourself?”

“To be honest, I didn’t want her to think I’m an idiot.”

“Ha! Pretty sure that ship’s sailed, mate,” Bilge jeered. Rorri shot him a dirty look.

“Fair enough,” Adar said. He carefully plucked another kernel with his front teeth, holding it in his cheek like a squirrel. “What was the context?”

“Erm…” Rorri looked up and blew a loose sigh, recalling her words. “It was at the end of the lesson, before we left the study, and she said—” He switched to an exaggerated falsetto—“‘I have some extra-curricular activities planned for next week, so don’t be late’. Then she walked me out, like normal.”

“I see…” Adar said. “Did she… I don’t know, wink or grab your tush or anything like that?”

“What?” Rorri gave a flustered laugh. “No, of course not. Why—”

“Just making sure.”

About a third of the way through the cob, Adar lowered his arm, staring off wistfully towards the pot. Wisps of steam still swayed over the boiled corn, and the subtle, sweet smell lingered in the air. His gaze drifted towards the garbage bin, wherein lay the husks he’d spent the better part of the morning shucking. He knew its disposal would fall on his shoulders as so many household chores did, but he never complained. He had taken it upon himself, after all. Still, he knew if he wasn’t the one to cook and clean, they all three would starve in their own filth. As he watched the corn go cold among the ungrateful stomachs of his housemates, a seed of resentment took root in his heart—

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“Oi!” Bilge said, waving his hand in front of Adar’s face. “Y’there, mate? Don’t ya go pullin’ a Rorri on us, ay?”

“What’s that supposed to—”

“I’ll tell you what it means,” Adar interrupted. “The extra-curricular activities, that is. Just… please have some corn. I really don’t want it to go bad.”

“Seriously?” Rorri narrowed his eyes. Adar returned the look with a stony glare.

“You know we don’t have shit for coin right now,” he seethed, “and your slutty tutor isn’t exactly helping, with all the money you spend on transport up and down the Plateau. So, excuse me for not wanting to waste what we do have.”

He nibbled off another kernel, his jaw square and indignant. Rorri blinked incredulously, crossing his arms, but Adar’s cutting words had left no opening for retaliation, and he certainly couldn’t reveal what his money was actually going towards.

“So…” Rorri scanned the ceiling as if he could read his own thoughts on its surface, the back legs of his chair trembling. “So you’re saying that… something about ‘extra-curricular activities’ makes her… slutty?”

Adar inhaled deeply and held up a finger, looking like he was going to speak, but instead he about-faced and disappeared down the hall. Hearing his door click shut, Bilge and Rorri shared a look, as if they’d just witnessed something profane.

“That’s what he said, though, right? He’s never called her ‘slutty’ before.”

“S’wot I heard,” Bilge mumbled as he watched traces of steam slowly fade into nothingness, a rare gleam of contrition in his eye. “Pro’ly should have some corn, though, ay? ‘E seems a bit bothered.”

“Mhm,” Rorri grunted, distracted. The revelation of his tutor’s intent opened a world of consequence to consider – if Adar could be trusted, at least, though he had proven himself trustworthy thus far. And, it made sense, when he really thought about it. He had always brushed aside the innuendo between him and Shacia, assuming it to be accidental, or wishful thinking, at best, but perhaps she was being flirtatious after all. He’d never entertained the possibility of a physical relationship, but it had crossed his mind, of course. How could it not? For as much time as they’d spent together in such close proximity, for as much as he’d observed her body – strictly for education, like when she’d demonstrate a technique for him – of course he had thought about it. He wasn’t even attracted to her physically, really. His mind wandered that way with almost any woman he shared a space with. Maybe it happened more often with her, but it didn’t mean anything. They just shared their space quite regularly…

“Right here’s why I don’t eat corn,” Bilge mumbled, picking his teeth through a mouthful of half-chewed kernels. “S’always gettin’ stuck…”

“That’s why I go one at a time!” Adar called from the other room.

“Are the walls really that thin here?” Rorri muttered, sure that his voice would not carry.

“Yes!”

“Keep ‘at in mind if ya bring yer slutty noble back ‘ere!” Bilge laughed, little bits of corn spraying from his mouth. Rorri recoiled, nearly losing his balance on the chair.

“Alright, we can stop calling her ‘slutty’ now,” he grumbled. “That’s probably not even what it means.”

“Oi, why not?” Bilge yawped, slapping the table. “’Sgot a nice ring, innit? ‘The Slutty Noble’… Might write an opera onnit someday – Ow!”

Rorri kicked the human’s shin, interrupting his jeering, as the chair hit the floor with a sharp CLACK. Bilge scooted away and pulled in his leg.

“Wot the hell’d ya do that for?” he growled.

“You disrespected The Lady!” Adar called.

“You started it!” Bilge shouted.

“Yes, but I feel sort of bad about it!”

“Well, go kick him in the bloody shin!” Bilge spat, but his retort was met with silence. Rorri had already unceremoniously left the kitchen, locking himself in his room across the hall.

“Goddammit…” Bilge rolled up his pant leg to inspect the injury, finding a minor scrape that would probably bruise. “Jus’ like a bitch, pitchin’ mates agains’ one anuvah…”

“That’s sexist!” Adar shouted. “She’s never even met us!!”

“Piss off!” Bilge barked, rattling the wall between them with the side of his fist.

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