The Phoenix Thief

Chapter 28

The dawn of Joakim's last morning in the Valley of Ban Thaeri was cold and swampy, the air heavy with all the moisture the previous week lacked. Things did not bode well, but at least his headache had receded. He found himself looking forward to Tabitha's beautiful face, little hope as she had given him, but she did not appear. Instead he rose unmolested, the smell of eggs and bacon wafting even to their upper rooms. Joakim's stomach grumbled.

When Joakim had first entered the library he'd been convinced that it would be the books that would trouble him, but daily the monks had confused. They seemed so normal, and yet so not: Tabitha, beauty and heartbreak; Thomas, excitement and innocence; Senna, blithe and cheerful; and Boron, silent and insightful. They felt like stones ready to trip him, strangeness and friendship held out to befuddle. Should he be glad he was leaving? Should he be sad? He didn't know, and it made him surly.

He met Cren in the hallway, the woman's face as bitter as his own. The last week had changed all of them, save perhaps for Erstas. As the days passed Cren's mood had softened, hours spent in the fields soothing her in a way that Joakim would have deemed impossible. Instead of constant, seething anger, a look of peace would occasionally come across her; Joakim had even caught her with the beginnings of a smile.

Hoi-Yan, too, had changed. She never spoke, whatever dwelt inside her silent as the grave, but she smiled more, even laughed–a high-pitched childish thing that chased away whatever monsters followed her.

Of them all, Erstas alone had stayed the most aloof, speaking at meals to whomever would sit beside him, and not forming any particular friendships. Regardless, he looked glum on their final morning.

"I confess, I'll miss this place," Erstas said, as they walked in to breakfast. "It has been a joy I had not expected."

Joy. The mood at breakfast said a lot about that. Midsummer, still mysterious, seemed reason enough to celebrate. Vaguely, Joakim remembered his determination to discover what the ceremony was. He hadn't had time, too many things had come up. Watching Senna inhale his food across the table, he almost asked, but stopped himself. What did it matter? They would be gone in just a few hours, never to return. Let the monks keep their secrets, he had his own to worry about.

"I'm sorry we must ask this of you," the abbess said, as they gathered afterwards in the courtyard. "But our laws are clear. You will be welcomed back in thirty days' time, but for now you must be outside these walls."

"We understand," Erstas told her. "We'll return at the end of the month. I look forward to more hours spent in the library. I still have much to learn."

The abbess spoke again, but Joakim didn't hear her, distracted by Thomas, Tabitha and Senna who bustled up to say their own goodbyes. Despite the short time he had spent with them, it seemed all three of them had come to think of him as a friend.

"It's just a month," Thomas said, "and Lothra's not so bad really."

"Lothra's a dump," Tabitha corrected him.

Senna had a more personal request. "Rebecca lives at the end of the high street, in a big mansion with stained glass windows. She works in her father's warehouses on the east end of town. Ask for the wool merchant and you'll find it easily. Tell her I think of her." He rubbed his face with his hands. "That I long for her... no wait, don't tell her that."

Tabitha laughed. "Tell her nothing," she told Joakim. "Try and preserve this one's air of mystery. We want to attract her, not scare her off."

They laughed at this, Joakim most hollowly.

A part of him would miss them, he realised. Their presence had opened doors in his head, doors sealed for years, their locks rusted, keys thrown away.

The longings hurt. Harken's bleeding face rose to sour his thoughts, but he found he could not hate the apprentices – friendship and kindness offered freely. Who could hate that?