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Posted on October 16, 2016 at 06:13:17 PM by anapa
Alethea mistook the question in his voice. Anapa did not bother to correct her. There was a novelty in the way she spoke to him – more akin to a more intelligent version of Atelli than anything else he’d experienced before. Her informal tone wasn’t unpleasant, just different.
Technically his ‘gift’ was unusual where he came from, too. All of the priests in the cult of death could commune with the dead on some level, but Anapa was the only person he knew of who seemed to have a sort of precognition. Most magic in Canidia was learned, not innate – but, just like any other skill, a person could have natural talents. Anapa’s ability to sense upcoming deaths had begun without magical training in his youth, but it had taken many hard lessons to refine it.
“No.” He was used to the curiosity, but not to actually being questioned and having to answer. A gentle frown creased his forehead as he tried to think of an explanation which would make sense. “It is more of a precognition – a sense of when something is about to happen. I do not know when or how you will die because it will not happen soon.”
He could have gone on – about how each glimpse of the future was different, and how he may know method but not time, time but not person, person but not place… but he wasn’t used to talking about himself, or indeed talking at all, for any great length of time. Anapa didn’t struggle with conversations; it just wasn’t a skill he practiced or cared for much. On an average day, he communicated more with the dead than the living.
Alethea led them outside, where a sweet, almost overpowering smell grew stronger the further they walked. It wasn’t until they were actually in the rose garden that he recognised the scent to be coming from the flowers. The greenery was more abundant and peppered with deeper, richer colours than those found even in the royal gardens at home. Anapa’s eyes lingered over some of the vibrant petals, imagining how much his mother would love to come here.
They came, at last, to the place Alethea must have been looking for: a smaller, secluded area cast in partial shade by a silver birch tree. She began to unpack her books, their titles a mystery to Anapa since he had only been granted verbal control of the language. Finally, she pulled out an odd, flat device which – Anapa was startled to notice – reflected perfectly anything it pointed to.
“I see.” He replied simply, watching the light flutter and glow. In all honesty, the strange artefact – now splintered – was more interesting than the magic.
He was distracted by the arrival of the canid. Anapa had spent enough time in Shaman now to be able to realise that this must be Alethea’s familiar. It – she? – Leto? – was obviously some form of canid, but startlingly different to any he had ever seen before: she was larger, bulkier and had much, much thicker hair. Not knowing an appropriate response to her greeting (‘my lady’? ‘my canid’?) he simply inclined his head towards her.
“Your tutor approves this method?” He asked of Alethea, reaching out to touch a fragment of the shattered object. His finger left a mark on its shiny surface. “Mine would not allow me to practice at home until a more advanced stage of study.”
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