[Memory] To Linger in a Garden Fair

[Aurelie Steerpike]

Something hot pressed the back of her eyes, and to Aurelie's abject horror she realized they were tears. She wouldn't cry--this she instructed herself of quite sternly--but neither could she stop the warmth that flooded or ease the pressure in her head. The sincerity of his apology touched her. Aurelie remembered that someone had once told her that the people of Mugroba cannot lie. How strange a thing this was, to hear the words of a stranger and know that they must contain at least some grain of truth to them simply because there was no alternative.

Oh, and he told her more about her sister, her Ana. Called her that as well. His wife (Niccolette, she reminded herself, adding the name to the catalogue of facts about her sister) must be close enough to her for familiarity then. He had said, but she wasn't sure. Aurelie's memory of her bright and glittering sister was of a young woman never lacking for company. It eased her heart to think that this remained true.

Unmarried! This seemed strange to Aurelie, thinking on how long it had been, how old she was and how old her sister was now as well. Then again, Ana had always preferred to go her own way. That was what drew some to her, Aurelie thought. Wanting some of that spirit for themselves. Certainly she was no different, doing her best to follow in Ana's wake. Or she hadn't been different--it hardly mattered now. She smiled back, imagining her lovely sister keeping company almost as lovely. A gemstone. Yes, that was fitting.

I think she'd be proud of you, too.

This was very nearly her undoing. Aurelie gasped instead, a sound torn between wound and delight. How desperately she wished that were true! How her breast ached to think of such a thing. Ana, proud of her. Beautiful, brilliant Ana. It was kind of him to say it, and to quite possibly even mean it, though Aurelie had no idea how. What was there to be proud of? A scrap, a piece of a person, who she would never see again? Still, she took the needle with a murmured thanks, her voice thick. Perhaps it could be true, that it wasn't shame of her that drove Ana from Anaxas.

As he rose, Aurelie was seized with a desire to repay him in some way for this kindness. Perhaps it was nothing to him, just idle chatter, but it was everything to her. He could not possibly know how much. She stood as well, smoothing her skirts and trying not to feel as if she were overstepping her bounds.

"Mr. Ibutatu... Thank you. You haven't troubled me. Truly. I--" She faltered, unsure of her words. "Your wife, she--she sounds lovely, and--and you must l-love her and--I am happy, to hear my sister is well and that she... that she might have such friends. I--" She swallowed, daring to raise her face. "I hope that whatever... troubles you that... all will be well." At this she blushed, feeling silly for having dared to say such a thing. The young woman covered it with a bow, respectfully deep.

[moralhazard]

Early Morning, Roalis 14, 2717
A Side Garden

Uzoji stopped when Aurelie called out to him, returning his polite attention to the young passive. She thanked him, and this time he was happy to accept, an easy, broad smile warming his face.

Yes, Uzoji thought, Niccolette was lovely. And he did love her, very much. They had gotten through such troubles before; he could not see why this time should be any different. He had made a mistake - well, Uzoji though wryly, perhaps more than one - but there would be a way to make it right. There was nothing he would not do for her, nothing he would not give; he would find the current forward, and sail it.

“Thank you,” Uzoji said, smiling at Aurelie. “I am sure it will be.” It would have been an incomparably selfish act to burden this young girl with the intimate details of his troubles with his wife, but her words were kindly meant, and kindly received. Uzoji was glad he had spoken to her about Lilliana, once and then again; he was glad that he had trusted his instincts and himself.

And he was impressed, he thought, yet again, with the bravery of the little passive. He knew that there must be something lacking in her, as there was in them all. But he knew too that strength of will and character could overcome such deficiencies, and he knew that being a passive alone should not condemn one to a life such as she lived. And he was sorry, on her behalf as on Aremu’s, that it was not so, here in Anaxas, in Bastia, in Hesse. And he was sorry that he did not think it wise to tell her the truth of things in Mugroba; but silence was not a lie, and Uzoji knew well the difference.

And with that, Uzoji didn’t linger; he bowed, again, and then he ducked beneath the branches of the tree and left, striding back through the garden. It was well after dawn, and he hadn’t yet eaten. He would need some food, Uzoji thought, if he meant to get through the long day ahead and leave to return to the Rose that night. And when he arrived, he would do whatever it took for his wife to find her anger with him, and he would weather the storm of it, when it came. He always had before; how could it be different now?