141 – Another Encounter

Just past the hallway, the sound of a plate shattering into a hundred pieces cracked like a whip through the hall.

“Creelo told you not to throw the plates. Why would you throw the plates?!”

Mal, curious, walked over to see what exactly had happened.

The inside of the hallway had wooden posts every couple of steps that turned into archways at the top. Mal only reached up about halfway, but he couldn't help but think that it was a bit too small for a draconid, based off of the way Philo and his father had to crouch.

Mal peeked around the corner, past a bunch of flowers in a pot.

A draconid with a noticeably rounder snout and smaller figure than that of Dreelo had an apron on. She wagged her finger at a draconid that reached up to her knees.

“If you do that again, Creelo's going to feed you to an elves,” she said. “Does that sound like a fun time to you?”

The younger draconid shivered. “No, mother.”

“Now go clean this up.”

Dreelo coughed into his fist. The woman startled back and sneezed. A puff of flame escaped her nose with the motion.

“Oh, pardon. Kreelo doesn't know how that happened.”

She walked over to Mal and leaned over. “And who might this youngling be?”

“It's one of Philo's circle mates,” Dreelo said. “All the rest of these humans are friends with him. Isn't that amazing?”

“But if they're here, then—”

Her eyes locked onto Philo.

She rushed forward and scooped her son up into a hug. “Little one, you've survived! We were all so worried for you.”

“Mother, can you please not?” Philo struggled inside of her grip. “At least not here?”

“But you're so thin! You didn't have a chance with any draconid women before, but now you're almost certainly doomed.” She drew back and shook his shoulders. “Son, don't you understand what's at stake? Your older brother might as well be a monk. Creelo doesn't want to die before she's had a chance to see some grandchildren.”

Philo yelped, “Mother, you—”

She drew back, then took a long sniff of the air.

Her gaze locked onto Mal, and she strode over to him, then took another sniff.

“You're a herbalist?” She squinted. “No, a—”

She sealed her hands over her mouth, then peeled those hands off, then laughed. “Ah, come, I thought I smelled something. I didn't. My sense of smell is finally going after all those years brewing infusions.”

Her tone lengthened on the word “infusions,” and her eyes were narrowed at Mal.

Mal adjusted his satchel. Although he'd managed to hide the status of his Shattercore, he wasn't able to hide the fact that he was carrying dozens of infusions and various types of plants in his bag. Hopefully, all she knew was that he had a talent for herbalism, although the way she cut herself off seemed to imply that she had at least some vague idea of what Mal was actually doing.

Rolam grimaced and did his best to stare at the ceiling. Philo, meanwhile, had his eyebrows furrowed together.

"What is the meaning of this—?"

She clapped her hands together. “All of you simply must stay for lunch. Creelo just put on some tea, and there's a roast earthlizard in the oven right now.”

Mal grimaced. “I'm not sure that we have the time.”

“Oh, I must insist. Surely you have at least an hour?”

Mal was just about to object when he noticed Philo looking at him. As soon as Mal caught sight of him, he looked away and tried to act nonchalant. His claws rested against one of the archways, and Mal could see dozens of other scratch marks, indicating that he'd done this plenty of times in the past.

He missed this place. He missed home.

“As the honored leader said, I'm afraid we don't have time—”

“We can stay for an hour.”

Rolam looked at him in surprise. After a second, he shrugged. “It seems we do have the time, then”

“Excellent. Just wait a few minutes, and Creelo will have everything ready.”

After waiting for a little bit, they were practically dragged by Kreelo into the dining room. A simple table covered in scratches sat in the middle of the room. On top of it was a single candle that remained unlit.

Behind all of this, a sapling that went just up to Mal's chest sat at an offset from the table, a hole in the hut overhead allowing the sunlight to stream in and over the leaves.

One by one, everyone took a seat.

"Sorry for the wait," Kreelo said. "Kreelo just wasn't prepared to be receiving visitors."

She stepped out of the kitchen, a large lizard on a pan in her hands. She set it down on the table, then pulled dishes out of—Mal couldn't even tell where—behind her back? Then set them down in front of every single person.

Without so much as a by your leave, Philo snatched a chunk of meat off the lizard and set it on his plate.

Mal and Rolam looked at each other, faces blank.

Lusia reached forward and mimicked Philo's actions. Her fingers dug into the flesh, though she was unable to fully pull it out because she lacked claws. She grunted, then pulled out one of her daggers from her sleeves and sliced off the section with her other hand. Once it was on her plate, she put away her dagger and started eating.

Mal really did admire her. He also questioned her sanity.

The gazes of Kreelo and Dreelo drilled into Mal's head. He shut his eyes, then forced his hand forward toward the lizard. With a sharp tug, he managed to pull out a loose section of meat from the damage Lusia had done. He took a bite of it, then shivered.

It tasted like ground-up rocks.

"Delicious," Mal said. "One of the tastiest meals I've had in a while."

Kreelo clapped her hands, the sound a thud and a scrape from the way her scales interacted with each other. "Excellent! Kreelo was hoping you would like it."

Rolam reached out and mimicked Mal's actions. He took a bite of the food, then his eyebrows shot up.

"Lady Kreelo," he said. "This is delicious. You're an amazing cook!"

Mal resisted the urge to drop his jaw.

What is wrong with that half-elf's taste buds?

Kreelo laughed and fanned her face. "Oh, you young charmers. Kreelo just has a lot of experience, that's all."

Dreelo clapped, banged his fist against the table. "You have excellent taste, Rolam! Perhaps you have a little bit of draconid blood in you?"

Rolam choked on a section of his food and coughed into his arm. After swallowing down the rest, he gave a shaky smile. "Probably not."

"The odds aren't zero, though," Mal said.

Rolam shot him a glare and hissed.

Curious and bored, Mal looked over at the tree and pointed at it. "Can I ask what that is?"

Kreelo's eyes sparkled. "Ah, the Samsara tree."

She stood up from the table and walked over to it, then ran the pads of her fingers across one of the leaves.

"This tree has great significance in Violeko culture," she said. "It's said that the branches can hold the souls of the dead if the ashes are immediately sprinkled upon the tree. As such, it's tradition for us to take our passed-on relatives and place them here, so that they may always be with us."

"Is there any truth to that?" Mal asked.

Rolam's eyes shot wide. "Mal, you can't say things like that."

Kreelo waved him off. "It's fine. It's a valid question."

She took her hands off of the leaves and faced toward Mal.

"Both Kreelo and her mother have done some work on the soul, and they've asked the same questions," she said. "There are strange properties around the Samsara tree, and it's not inconceivable that a dark mage could somehow utilize the tree to preserve their life. But the way that draconids do it—it's rather hard to tell with any certainty. Kreelo leans towards probably not. It's merely a kind gesture."

"That makes sense. Thank you for telling me."

The leaves were broad-leafed, now that Mal was paying attention. Not the pines that they'd seen coming in. They more resembled something you might find in a Chama forest than in a Violeko forest.

"Wait." Mal realized that she'd said something important. "You and your mother?"

"Ah, Kreelo and her mother are descended from a long line of draconid herbalists. Unfortunately, their subject matter—the soul—was considered heretical even by the Empire. Kreelo and her mother weren't hurt, but most of their assets were seized. That is why, despite their long lineage, they live in... this place."

Draconid herbalist my ass. She's a witch. Not only that, but a witch specializing in exactly what I need.

"Were you able to develop a tool to detect souls?" Mal said. "For example, if one thought that they were being..."

How best to put it?

"...pursued by a spirit, would you be able to tell?"

"Kreelo would," she said. "With the right tools. But as she said before, all those tools are gone now."

"Could you explain some of the theory behind it?" Mal quickly scrambled for an explanation. "It just seems like such an interesting subject. I'd love to learn more about it."

Kreelo opened her mouth to speak when she laughed. "Oh, you have Kreelo rambling. Kreelo is flattered by your interest, but Kreelo knows that everybody else at this table is likely bored to tears."

Mal clenched his fists under the table. "Of course. At a later time, then?"

"Oh, that part of Kreelo's life is long past. And besides, the Empire seized that research for a reason."

There was a long pause as something dark passed over her face.

"Meddling in the realm of the spiritual—it was a line that Kreelo and her mother shouldn't have crossed. Mere observation is one thing, but they went too far."

A silence fell over the table. Mal realized that he'd stepped in something he shouldn't have.

"Anyway!" Kreelo grinned and the darkness disappeared. "Kreelo is most curious to learn about how your Academy life has been going."

The rest of lunch passed by without incident. Mal remained quiet, stewing in his annoyance.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that his best chance at gaining information on the vision at Spiritseason would slip away in an instant if he didn't do something about it.

One by one, everybody at the table got up, ready to head back.

The voice of Cassandra rang in his ear.

She'd taught him the correct way to greet a witch and to ask for a meeting after his disaster with the elven witch. She'd also told him to only use it if he was caught, and the other person requested a meeting.

How does it go again? he thought. Place all your fingers other than your index against your thumb, then put it over your heart.

Mal, on the way out, turned around to face Kreelo. He made the sign and placed it to his chest.

She stopped and stared at him for a full thirty seconds before she nodded and returned the sign. A confirmation. Since he was the requester, she had the right to decide where to meet.

She pointed down at the ground.

Her home.

And then she made an O shape with her hand.

Now.

Mal nodded. He stepped outside and placed his hand on Philo's shoulder.

"Hey, I have some business in the city. Just head back to the inn."

Philo blinked. "What? What kind of business?"

"You don't need to worry about it."

Lusia glanced over at him in confusion. He shook his head, and her eyes narrowed and she looked away.

Rolam raised his hands. "What are we supposed to say to Igna?"

"Something. Anything. I don't care."

Mal took off in a random direction. He noted that they weren't following him.

Good.

He heard Dreelo asking them questions. Their voices faded away. After a few minutes, Mal sneaked around to the backside of the house. A door that Mal hadn't noticed before was cracked open. Mal walked in.

She skulked out of the shadows. The candle in the middle of the room had been lit, and her eyes reflected the light straight back at Mal.

"You have ten minutes to explain what you want."

Her claws shimmered, and Mal couldn't help but feel that he'd made a mistake.

"Now."