Chapter 4: Liar's sanctuary

The lightglobes above her drenched the dull cobbles and shiny buildings in white light, enough to make you forget that the sun had set an hour ago. Shops kept open for longer this way, it was all intentional; like everything Carthia decided. Even the nets above the main streets had multiple purposes. They provided enough space and easy access to the lightglobes. The other reason was to stop dragons from landing where ever they pleased. A policy the shop owners had unanimously agreed upon. All customers should be able to get preyed upon as they had to take the long way beneath.

You’d never find trash or wyvern dung on Carthia’s streets. The city was clean, sterile, and cold, especially at night, where even the light lacked warmth. Sylph disliked Carthia a little more each time she returned from Halfhill. That town had character. Carthia had character too, but it was the type of dragon who spent six hours a day polishing every singular scale to perfection, painted their claws to an even, glossy, onyx-black, and pitched their snout upwards with every word.

Sylph followed the street, back to the marketplace, dodged the few people out and about this late with generous distance, and headed straight across the empty plaza.

The city dictated the outward appearance in the second ring to preserve the look of unity. Only the doors of incredibly varying size showed you that two very different people lived in this city. All color in Carthia came from its inhabitants.

The two-story mansion in front of her did not differ from the rest. A white square with a flat roof that had two balconies facing the marketplace and a few windows dotted around. There was only one difference between the surrounding buildings. It stretched wider than any of the neighboring houses, because it was in fact not one, but two manors with a shared front door. No wonder people made up that Veria and Dalian married, their houses sure did.

Sylph stepped up to the two wings of the arched doorway. They were wide enough to allow even the most elderly of dragons to fit through without touching the sides. A single wing of the door could crush Sylph under its weight and required a tremendous amount of force to be opened. Nested in the right side of the door was another, smaller, rectangular door. Designed for human visitors, Sylph was young enough to fit through with ease.

She took a quick look around to see if anybody watched and then used her chin to push down the human height handle. She could hear Oasis reminding her that “It wasn’t the proper way” in her thoughts.

Warm orange light spilled onto the street as soon as she opened the door. The cozy glow of a fire, trapped inside a light globe. Sylph remembered a singular oil lamp back in Linz. Nobody else still bothered with such a hassle, globes needed little maintenance. It took a few silver beads and a quick walk to one of the various engomancer shops to light up a house like theirs for a month.

Cold light would be even cheaper, but the difference in comfort was as great as curling up next to a crackling fire and feeling the gentle heat lull you to sleep, and curling up next to a snowdrift whilst icy rain pelted you into unconsciousness.

Sylph closed the door by pushing with the tip of her tail and the short fins at the very end. The smell of food entered her nostrils. As always, she could not identify the contents. All of Oasis’ cooking ended up tasting the same to Sylph, but she would never say that in her presence.

She dragged all four feet through the small basin filled with soapy water behind the entrance to wash the sand and dirt off. While she washed her paws, she looked around the foyer. Oasis rearranged it recently, and it was all still uncomfortably unfamiliar.

Various little tidbits that all held some meaning to someone decorated the entire hall. Veria’s old badge that marked her as the second wing of her old mercenary band, Dalian’s first pathwalker scarf, a green one, marking him for the path of Waila, Myrtha’s small and crude wood carving of a Tira, and Oasis' first spoon, engraved with her name in childish letters. It felt like a little treasury. Only Sylph had nothing of her past to add to the hallway.

Her stomach growled as she peeled away from the keepsakes and headed through the secondary entrance into the dining area at the back of the house. Veria sat on her leather mat at the low dining table, staring down at the empty wooden bowl in front of her. She seemed to pay little attention to Sylph’s arrival, but nothing went past Veria unnoticed. She hadn’t bothered to check if Sylph finished cleaning up. Sylph would not dare to get back home before she did, and Veria knew.

Arguing with Veria in a foul mood was a terrible idea, even if it wasn’t her fault. “All done.” Sylph sat down on her mat on the opposite side of the table. The deep blue, cushioned leather barely fit under her anymore. Her tail rested on the hardwood floor and not all four legs stood on the mat. It had worn out over the years, and the stuffing formed hard clumps beneath her. Time for something more adult-sized to sit on.

Veria didn’t answer, but the sound of her claws tapping on the leather below and her gaze, that blamed Sylph for setting the city on fire and blighting the crops, said enough. Veria did not scare her, not while she sat at the dinner table. That stare, however, it made her feel small.

Sylph’s gaze peeled away from the silently fuming mountain of muscle, followed the hanging iron pole above the table through the pass-through, and settled on Oasis’ sand colored scales whirling through the kitchen. She hummed to herself as she worked. Sylph didn’t recognize the tune.

Oasis’ kitchen would make a family restaurant owner jealous. She inherited the design of her mother and brought a beautiful piece of the desert back home, a welcome change from the wood everywhere else. The work surfaces were smooth, imported sandstone. Tens of her own spice mixtures filled the shelves of dark, polished black stone. But the heart of her holy sanctum was four hotplates and a fireplace with an actual fire.

A slightly elevated tripping hazard of smooth black ran along the floor a few inches away from the counters and ended in a pot of boiling water. A cook might call it pfod-rail with Sol washbasin instead. Its only purpose was to keep your pfod off the ground so you didn’t taste your floorboards in the soup.

Oasis sidestepped around like a dancer with a ladle in one pfod and the other sliding along the rail. Sylph would trip over her own pfods several times trying to fry an egg. Cooking was a harder art than she had ever expected. She still had the scar on her arm.

Oasis grabbed the metal pot by the handle, lifted it off the hotplate, and hooked it onto the rail hanging above the counters. The pot swayed from side to side as she pushed it with her bare pfods through the pass-through. She unhooked it above the table and set it down.

Oasis scales shimmered like topaz under the light globe. Two golden bands of the same making as Veria’s adorned her two straight horns in the last third, and just like Veria’s, both their names were engraved in delicate letters. Unlike normal jewelry, wedding bands were never adjusted. As their horns grew larger with age, the band rested further and further back, showing their commitment to each other.

A wing-shaped earring of pure silver swung happily on her twitching ear as she turned to look at them both. Her scarlet eyes blinked with a certain amusement and she filled their bowls with a thick stew.

Great, spoons. Cutlery was inconvenient. Whoever decided that spoons were an acceptable tool for a dragon should be smacked with it. And not with the smaller one she held, but with the larger ones for elders.

Oasis settled down on her mat, and it felt as though a serene lake collided with a brewing storm. “Do you want to talk about it?” A simple question broke up the silence. Oasis fixated them both. “You can’t enjoy dinner in a foul mood.”

“I had a great idea,” Sylph said, and plunged the spoon into the bowl with enough vigor to spray bits of carrot onto the table.

Veria stared at the sliced wyvern meat bobbing in her stew. Glimpses of strain twitched through her face and her tail scratched over the floor. “Yes, you did. And it got seven people into the infirmary.”

Oasis snapped around. “Come again? What did you do?” While she did not raise her voice, she sounded quite alarmed.

“I flashed them. I flashed them with a bright-burst of light,” Sylph explained in a hurry, vaguely drawing the shape she believed light to be with the spoon in the air.

“Blinding all those present, me included. In a duel.” The last word held all the weight of the sentence. Of course. Not the flash itself, or the injured people. Breaking the code got Veria this riled up.

Both her and Oasis’ gaze fixated on Sylph, and she felt a need to explain herself. “It is not my fault that they lose basic logic along with their vision.” She leaned forward against the table with her torso, stretching her head forward to face Veria.

“You hit most of them unaware. What did you think would happen? They watched a duel.” Veria’s voice grew louder as she stretched over the table, meeting Sylph in the middle. Her slim black tongue flicked through her teeth.

Sylph’s tail moved to her side and coiled around her legs. “I didn’t know it would be strong enough to disorient the entire field. But-”

Veria’s frown deepened, and the table creaked as she leaned far enough to feel her hot breath brushing past Sylph’s snout. “You didn’t even know what it would do?” Veria barked, and Sylph’s ears twitched close.

Sylph pressed her lips together and retreated her head. “Disorient you.”

Veria sighed heavily and shook her head. “Sylph,” she said with a somewhat calmer voice, “You don’t test something like that on a training field.” Veria took her weight off the table.

Sylph felt a drop of guilt crawl down her back like an insect. “We tested it. Just never on my wings. It was supposed to give me an advantage, and it did,” Sylph admitted.

“There are strict rules to duels,” Veria repeated and her yellow eyes narrowed again.

“It was training.” Veria didn’t have to tell her the consequences of using it in a real duel.

“I will personally bar you from entering any arena if you use that in a duel again.” The sentence had a point as hard as rock.

“You can’t actually do that.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“I am sensing something else,” Oasis interrupted after keeping quiet for a while. She teased Veria with a higher-pitched voice than normal, and a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes.

Veria snapped around to her instead. “She broke the ancient code of dueling.” Her voice was immediately softer as she spoke to Oasis.

“In training,” Sylph interjected. “That’s what training is for.”

“Buuuut?” Oasis smiled. Her voice was as soft as silk and ran through the room like a sweet melody. “You punished her for it already. There is no need to push a point she understands now.” Oasis made it impossible to argue if she didn’t want you to. She sucked up all negativity around her and replaced it with an odd comfort.

Veria opened and closed her mouth. “Tell me about any new inventions next time.” She shook her head.

Sylph’s wings drooped down on her back. Deep down, she knew Veria was right. Things like this should be planned, but she wouldn’t have surprised Veria if she had expected it, and that had been the entire point of the endeavor.

“I can’t allow that on the training field.” Veria’s masquerade dropped as Oasis continued to softly smile her into submission. “It was a major breach of the rules and- yes, I admit it. I liked the idea. Maybe a bit niche in its application as it blinds everyone, but impressive that you came up with it.” Veria broke eye-contact with Oasis. She could out stare a statue, but not her wife.

She cleared her throat and picked up her spoon. “Thankfully, there was no major damage done. You should hope that you never experience a dislocated wing yourself. It’s far worse than breaking it. Be glad that the military viewed the whole incident as a dumb mistake and was pretty content with clean up as punishment.” Veria fixated her as if to make a point. After a second, her face relaxed.

“See, talking things out makes everything better. And now we can have a nice dinner, can’t we?” Oasis exchanged a gaze with Veria. She read Veria like an open book and Sylph was lost on how she did it.

Oasis pointed at the sparkling underside of Sylph’s wings. “It also looks quite pretty.” Sylph wouldn’t describe her wings as pretty, but even a trash can would glitter with the paint smeared all over it.

Veria glanced up and down at Sylph’s wings and back. “Explain to me how it works. It uses your weapon, doesn’t it?”

They continued to eat and Sylph spent the next few minutes repeating what Brandon had told her about the paint. Her explanation of the alchemy was probably wrong, but none of them were alchemists and the concept of electric shock with paint make bright light was easy enough to understand.

“So,” Oasis started and switched the topic after an appropriate length of silence. “This new exotic juice arrived in the shop this morning. I found it through sheer luck while talking to my spice trader.” Her eyes lit up as she talked. “It’s such an interesting blend of tastes, and so sweet, and you wouldn’t believe the smell. Definitely got some koman in it. You can tell by the distinct sour aftertaste that reminds you of citrus and almond.” Her tail twitched around behind her. She must’ve waited this whole time to share her thoughts. “It really is the sweetest thing behind the counter. I should’ve brought a bottle, but we didn’t add them to our inventory yet.”

The way she described every juice, wine, or spice sounded a hundred times more interesting than it would end up being. They all tasted the same to Sylph. It came down to difference in species. Sylph had once witnessed a small group of Sols smelling a spice mixture in the shop. They got so excited that she worried about the sanctity of the stone flooring.

She took a whiff after they left and nobody saw her. It smelled like someone took a broom to a tavern and added a lemon for good measure. She smelt no hint of desert and jungle, like they had been going on and on about.

“I thought I already picked the sweetest thing behind the counter,” Veria said with a playful voice and slid her wing around Oasis in one smooth movement. The rustle of scales rubbing against scales filled the room as they carefully twined their tails behind them.

They did it in public too, especially if some alcohol had been involved, and it was embarrassing to watch them act like this. Today it felt different. They seemed so happy with each other all the time and something sparked when they touched, not pain or anything that Sylph felt. For them, it always widened a smile or smoothed a frown.

Veria leaned closer to Oasis’ ear, flicked it with her tongue and whispered: “You still have to show me something that tastes as sweet as you.” Oasis cuddled up against Veria’s neck.

Oh, by the six, Sylph thought and turned away. That remark was not meant for her ears, or anyone’s ears. There was a line to what was appropriate dinner conversation and Veria stood two tail lengths behind it. It never stuck with her mothers that every whispered conversation happened at room level for Sylph.

Usually, Oasis intervened, but not today. Today, she answered with a sly grin. They seemed to forget that; They hadn’t finished dinner and that Sylph still sat at the table.

She awkwardly raised the spoon back to her mouth. She felt out of place, and it brought the heat to her face. There was no need for them to flirt like that.

It was then that something deep inside of her head clicked, raced through her thoughts like a wildfire, and settled in her chest to spark a flame. She dropped the spoon. Not only did the world conspire against her part in the story, she had to watch them recognize Veria everywhere. Sylph was a nobody to all of them. Veria hadn’t wanted her. And now she and Oasis mocked her by showing something else she could never have.

Her claws dug into the leather below, breaking through and into the crumbling filling. It wasn’t fair. She did nothing to warrant a life like this. Her dragonheart boiled. Others had made every decision in her life. The very first one by her real parents. Whatever they did, it lead to all of this.

She cleared her throat and her mothers separated, their attention still on each other, but listening to her. “I wanted to ask something,” Sylph said, “What do you know about my parents?” The temperature dropped as the question left her mouth, and it left her heart pounding.

Sylph turned to Veria, who turned to look at Oasis, who looked back at Veria. Veria closed her eyes, sighed, and looked back up. “That is a very sudden and very loaded question. Let’s not have this conversation at night.” She scratched at the spikes behind her head.

Of course, excuses, now of all times. Sylph turned her hope towards Oasis. The two of them stared at her, seemingly unsure of what to say. A sad, slim smile spread over Oasis’ face. “Sylph, you are our daughter and always will be.” Her voice could melt the coldest of hearts, but there was nothing left to melt inside of Sylph. It all burned.

“I am not, not really. You know that.” The words came out cold and harsher than she had expected.

“But-” Oasis started, but the words caught in her throat.

“Stop,” Veria said. “We will have this conversation tomorrow.” She turned back to her bowl of food, as if delaying the conversation would solve anything.

“What happened to talking things out?” Sylph hissed.

“We will-,” Oasis started but Veria finished her sentence. “-talk about it tomorrow and that’s it.”

Sylph’s eyelid twitched. She didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t being put off like that. An idea grew in her head just as she was about to raise her voice. Maybe it was a shot in the dark, but worth a try. They forgot about her ears all the time.

“I’m going to bed,” Sylph murmured and left the table with no more words and a half finished bowl of stew. She hurried up the massive staircase and smacked the door of her room shut, loud enough to be heard through the house.