The Archer

Part 3

In the morning they woke early, and Aslin dressed in the faint light of dawn. Taking the key from where it rested on the top of the bureau, Ero opened the drawer of clasps and with a deep breath chose a pair to match her dress. Distracted by her nerves Aslin didn't even glance at them, noting only his lingering closeness as he fastened them, the soft kiss on each shoulder. He took out several more pairs and laid them atop the bureau, opening drawers and choosing dresses for the journey days.

It didn't matter to her that Ero chose her clothes, they weren't hers anyway. It was all the same to her, never having been one for fashion. But she marveled at how important clasps seemed to be. How odd that she couldn't just wear the same pair every day, especially on a boat where the only people to see her would be sailors. Her mother had never worn clasps, dressed always in the Tirian way. It was only now Aslin realized how lacking her mother's education had been in so many things, not only in Almanian but in womanhood. She had been utterly unprepared for Ero.

A little while later Giro came in with breakfast, chatting with them both in Almanian now that her secret was out. Ero continued to speak in Tirian to her when it was just the two of them together, for her ease she supposed, but he sometimes lapsed into Almanian seemingly without realizing it, especially when he was tired or distracted. After breakfast, Ero went to see that his own things were packed and to ready the departure party. As Aslin waited, Silta entered, and Aslin went directly to the healer and embraced her.

Silta was somewhat surprised, but enfolded the girl in her arms nevertheless with a motherly chuckle.

"How glad I am to see you, Silta. I had been afraid I wouldn't get to say goodbye."

"Of course I would come to see the warrior angel one last time," Silta joked, and Aslin smiled weakly. Silta led her into the bright lights of the bathroom, where she carefully removed the black stitches from the wound on Aslin's arm. Underneath the flesh was pink and tender, but without signs of infection.

"I'd leave these in a few more days if I could, but I'd rather take them out myself early than leave the task to some other healer who doesn't know the wound," Silta said absentmindedly, cleaning the newly bonded skin. Aslin said nothing, looking at her arm. "There will be a scar, but a faint one, I think," the healer said, and when Aslin still did not reply, Silta looked at her more keenly.

"You are alright, dear? You look preoccupied."

"Oh, I'm just nervous, I think," Aslin said breezily, hoping her voice sounded calmer than she felt.

Silta stood, taking Aslin's hand gently and pulling her back into the main room and into a chair. The healer bent, taking two packages out of her bag.

"Ero mentioned it would be your first sea voyage, I've just seen him. I brought you something to settle your stomach," Silta said, gesturing to the first package. "It's a tea that needs to be steeped in very hot water for a good ten minutes or so. It should help with the dizziness and nausea, if there are any. Perhaps you already have lolipsos without knowing it."

"What is that word, lolipsos?"

"It means, to be good at sea. To be a natural sailor." Aslin laughed, disbelieving the idea, and took the package, thanking her. "My other gift is a little more... sensitive," Silta said tentatively. The healer looked around her, though they were alone, and seemed rather skittish.

"I don't want you to mistake me in this, lady," Silta said gently, and Aslin raised an eyebrow at the formal title. "You must tell me if you don't understand my meaning, in Almanian." Aslin nodded, now very curious. "You and the lord Ero you have been... together, of late?"

Aslin blushed, looking down and nodding.

"It is nothing to be ashamed of, piba," Silta said quickly, lifting Aslin's chin with her wrinkled hand, and Aslin's heart warmed to hear the term of endearment her mother had always called her by. "You are young and the passions of youth run hot. I was young myself once too."