Chapter 486: The Value of Her Own Choices

When Neria returned to the Valley that afternoon, Eir wasn't waiting beside the Transfer.

Damon noticed as soon as he crossed through with her. There were a few roots nearby, naturally, since practically every part of the Valley had some extension of Eir close by, but none were gathered around the structure as they had been after the trip to the sea. Neria noticed too. She stopped for a moment, looked around, and then continued walking without asking anything. Damon followed a few steps behind, carrying absolutely nothing because Neria had refused his attempt to take her bag. She looked tired, but not exhausted. The regulator was already adjusting its activity to Eir's presence again, while the alternative circulatory route gradually slowed down. Nothing abrupt. Nothing concerning. Just her body understanding that the environment had changed once more.

They found Eir near the great trunk.

Or rather, Eir was already there, because that concept remained somewhat meaningless within her own territory.

Liora was sitting on the ground with something sweet in her hands. As soon as she saw Neria, her eyes went straight to the bag.

"Did you bring food?"

Neria stopped.

Damon pointed at Liora.

"I told you."

"You always say that."

"Because it always happens."

Neria opened her bag, took out a small package, and tossed it to her sister. Liora caught it in midair with surprising efficiency for someone who still wasn't allowed to use a bow.

"It's from Talven."

Liora immediately opened it.

"Good."

"You haven't even tasted it."

"It will be."

Damon looked at Eir.

"Admirable confidence."

The voice came from the trunk.

"She's back."

Neria smiled.

"I'm back."

The nearby roots moved but stopped before touching her.

Neria noticed.

So did Damon.

She approached on her own and extended one hand. Only then did a root slowly rise and wrap around her wrist, establishing contact.

Eir spoke.

"Well?"

"Well."

"Pain?"

"No."

"Tired?"

"A little."

"Afraid?"

Neria thought.

"Sometimes."

Eir remained silent.

Neria sat on a broad root, placed her bag on the ground, and rested her hands on her knees.

"But I liked it."

"Talven?"

"Not exactly."

Damon sat a little farther away.

Eir asked:

"Then what?"

Neria took a while to answer. "Being there without anyone accompanying me."

The roots beneath the ground shifted slightly.

"Missed us."

"Yes."

"Me?"

Neria smiled.

"Especially you."

Eir remained quiet for a few seconds.

"Then why didn't you talk?"

The question wasn't accusatory. Just direct.

Neria looked at the root wrapped around her wrist.

"Because I wanted to miss you without immediately doing something to make it stop."

Damon raised his eyes.

Eir took longer to respond this time.

"Don't understand."

"I know."

Neria tried again. "When I missed you, I thought about sending a message."

"Could have."

"Yes."

"Didn't."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because I didn't need to."

Eir remained motionless.

Neria continued calmly. "I could miss you and still stay there. I could think about you and still have dinner. I could want to come back and still sleep in that horrible bed."

Liora looked up from her package.

"Bad bed?"

"Very."

"Why?"

"Because it was bad."

"That doesn't explain."

"It was hard."

Liora thought.

"Sleep on the floor."

Damon began laughing.

Neria looked at her.

"You're your mother's daughter."

Eir replied:

"Floor good."

"I take that back."

Damon laughed even harder.

The tension disappeared before it had truly formed.

Neria told them about Talven. About the bridge that was just a bridge. About the fruit that looked good but tasted horrible. About the temple she'd entered because the door was open. About the woman who had asked whether she was waiting for someone, and how that question had remained in her mind for the rest of the afternoon.

Eir listened to everything.

When Neria mentioned sitting alone by the window during dinner, Eir asked:

"Sad?"

"A little."

"Wanted to come back."

"Yes."

"But stayed."

"Yes."

"Because you wanted to."

"Yes."

That answer seemed to satisfy her more than any previous explanation.

Neria finished by telling them about the bed.

In great detail.

Damon began to suspect that it had become her favorite part of the trip simply because it was so ridiculously ordinary.

When she finished, Eir said:

"Next time, choose a better bed."

Neria stared at the great trunk.

Damon opened his mouth.

Stopped.

Then began laughing.

Neria laughed too.

"Was that a joke?"

"No."

"Of course not," Damon replied.

Liora had already finished half the sweets.

"Next time, I'm going."

Neria looked at her.

"Maybe."

"Yes."

"I said maybe."

"You'll bring food."

"That's not a condition for traveling."

"It is."

Damon decided not to get involved.

Two days later, Neria appeared in the room where Damon was reviewing some messages from Mirath.

She didn't knock.

He looked up.

"You're getting far too comfortable here."

"My door has a key."

"That's unrelated."

"Not to me."

She entered and placed three coins on the table.

Damon looked at them.

Then at Neria.

"Are you paying me?"

"No."

"Shame."

"How much does a trip cost?"

Damon fell silent.

"That's a broad question."

"Talven."

"Transfer?"

"Yes."

"Lodging?"

"Yes."

"Food?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Neria sat across from him.

"I want to know how much I spent."

Damon began to understand.

"You already know how much you took."

"That's not the same thing."

"No."

"Aria gave me money."

"Yes."

"I used it."

"Yes."

Neria crossed her arms.

"I want my own money."

Damon fell silent for a moment.

It made sense far too quickly to surprise him.

"You want to work."

"Maybe."

He grimaced.

Neria noticed.

"You hate that word."

"Profoundly."

"Then yes. I want to work."

Damon leaned back.

"Doing what?"

"I don't know."

"Excellent start."

"Did you know what you wanted to do when you started?"

"I did a lot of things because I needed to eat."

"Then it worked."

"That's not the correct conclusion."

Neria looked at the coins.

"I don't need to work to survive."

"No."

"And nobody's charging me to stay in Mirath."

"No."

"And Eir certainly doesn't charge anything."

"That would be a very interesting business model."

"But I want to be able to pay for my next trip."

Damon understood the difference.

She didn't need to.

She wanted to.

"Then find something you don't hate."

"That's your professional advice?"

"It's excellent."

Neria narrowed her eyes.

"You're useless."

"I've been told."

She picked up the coins again.

"Who knows about jobs?"

"Jian Li."

"Why?"

"Because Jian Li knows who needs help, who's behind schedule, who owes money, who's pretending they aren't behind schedule, and probably how many pieces of cutlery there are in the kitchen."

Neria thought.

"That sounds frightening."

"It is."

She stood.

"I'll talk to him."

"Neria."

She stopped at the door.

"Don't accept the first thing just because someone offers it."

"Why?"

"Because a bad job is still a bad job even when you chose it."

Neria looked at him for a few seconds.

"That sounds like personal experience."

"Unfortunately."

She smiled and left.

Jian Li took the question much more seriously than Damon had expected.

Perhaps too seriously.

By the end of that same afternoon, there was a list.

Neria looked at the paper.

Then at Jian Li.

"Why are there twelve options?"

"Because you asked what jobs were available."

"I expected two."

"Then you asked the wrong person."

Damon was sitting nearby, only because curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Jian Li began pointing.

"The archives need help with basic cataloging. The kitchen always needs people, but you'd probably hate the hours. The market needs someone two mornings a week for inventory. The infirmary needs help organizing supplies, but Ester would probably turn that into a continuous medical examination."

"I heard that," Ester said from the corridor.

Jian Li didn't even stop.

"Aria needs help with maps."

Neria immediately replied:

"No."

Aria appeared behind Ester.

"Why?"

"Because you never stop."

"That's slander."

Damon raised his hand.

"I confirm the slander."

Jian Li continued.

"There are also jobs outside Mirath."

Neria became more attentive.

"Which ones?"

"Depends on what you know how to do."

"I know a lot about plants."

Damon looked at her.

So did Jian Li.

"How much?"

Neria thought. "A lot."

That was almost obvious.

She had grown up connected to Eir.

Even before Vermillion, Neria's understanding of organisms, plant regeneration, energy circulation, and the behavior of certain species probably surpassed that of most ordinary people.

But there was a problem.

Neria realized it before anyone else.

"Some of what I know is a hundred and seventeen years out of date."

Jian Li nodded.

"Then don't start by identifying things for consumption."

"Good idea."

Damon pointed at her.

"Especially mushrooms."

Neria looked at him.

"I know how to identify mushrooms."

"From a hundred and seventeen years ago."

"Mushrooms don't change that quickly."

Aria spoke from behind them.

"Some have."

Neria fell silent.

Damon smiled.

"Victory."

"Don't get used to it."

Jian Li found a better option.

An apothecary in Mirath needed someone two afternoons a week to organize dried plants, record their origins, separate damaged materials, and prepare basic batches. Nothing requiring prescriptions. Nothing that would put patients at risk. The owner was old, impatient, and, according to Jian Li, possessed the rare quality of being impressed by absolutely nobody.

Neria liked that part.

"Does he know who I am?"

"No."

"Good."

"Do you want me to tell him?"

"No."

Damon smiled.

"Even better."

The apothecary's name was Oras.

He was approximately sixty years old, had one eyebrow permanently higher than the other, and hands stained by decades of handling herbs, resins, and tinctures.

He looked at Neria.

Then at Jian Li.

"Can she read?"

Neria replied:

"Yes."

Oras looked at her.

"Good."

Jian Li tried to say something.

Oras pointed toward a box.

"Sort them by label."

Neria looked at Jian Li.

"That's it?"

"I warned you."

Oras had already walked away.

Damon, who had accompanied them only as far as the door, began laughing.

Neria looked at him.

"You can leave."

"I'm going."

"Now."

"Good luck with the job."

"Go away."

He did.

Two hours later, Neria was still there.

The following day, she returned.

At the end of the week, she received her first payment.

It wasn't much.

Ridiculously little compared to the money Aria, Damon, or anyone in Mirath would have given her without hesitation if she'd asked.

Neria stared at the coins in her hand for so long that Oras asked whether he'd calculated the amount incorrectly.

"No."

"Then why are you staring?"

"Because they're mine."

Oras shrugged.

"Now they are."

And returned to work.

Neria smiled.

That night, she placed the coins on the table in her room.

Beside the key.

They weren't grand symbols.

The key opened a door.

The coins would pay for something small.

Perhaps food.

Perhaps a better inn.

Perhaps another trip.

For Neria, at that moment, it was enough.

She was finally beginning to discover that independence wasn't just about being able to leave.

It was also about gradually building reasons of her own to choose where to return.