Inkblots: A Tale of Magic, Adventure, and Romance

XXXVI. Departure

In the dim light of the next morning, it was quite obvious that the room was still empty, bed covers still untouched, Kit still gone. 

Alia blinked at a rush of unfamiliar emotions, head spinning with guilt and hurt and, more than anything else, regret. Why should she regret this? Why did you say no? something whispered from deep inside the recesses of her mind. She lay motionlessly, curled under the covers on the tiny trundle bed. How could I say anything but no, she responded. He had been drunk, certainly not his right self. And it wasn't some problem that she'd never had a lover, not an inconvenience to be solved so things were easier. But still, a small part of her wouldn't be banished, a part of her that thought maybe she might have given it a try, instead of letting fear win.

Perhaps it really was nothing to blink at. Travelling companions often shared tents, after all--why not a bedroll? But Alia just couldn't reconcile Kit's easy dismissal with the bitter anger that creased his features every time he talked about Mira. 

Maybe it was a blessing that he wasn't there, anyway. How would she have faced him? What did one say the morning after a conversation like that?

A glance between the shutters of the tiny window revealed that it was early morning still, sun barely visible behind a veil of fog. The ship sailed sometime after noon, though that was all she knew.

Time to be productive, then. Kit would be back at some point--his pack still leaned against the wall. And he wouldn't leave her here, just because she'd said no. Probably. No, he needed her. He'd said. They would still be going to Scypia.

Her stomach twisted at the thought. It hadn't seemed real yet--the idea that she'd soon be boarding a ship and sailing away from the continent where she'd been born, where she'd spent her whole life. Where her Mami was--and she still needed to send her a letter!

For an exorbitant fee that took the few coins left in the bottom of her pack, the mistress of the inn sold her 3 sheets of foolscap and a tiny vial of ink. The quill was borrowed for free, at least, or she'd been out of luck.

Then she was wedged in at a small table, eyeing its uneven wooden surface and trying to remember what she wanted to say. That night in the cavern--surely no more than a fiveday ago--seemed impossibly distant, and there were so many things to say.

She could spill the entire truth: Mami, I miss you terribly and I'm so scared and I have no idea what we're doing. I don't know why I'm here. I don't think I can leave, though. I can't walk away from this--from him. But he doesn't even want me. Not really, I don't think.

Or maybe not. The positives, then: Everything has been terribly exciting. We learned some ancient secrets, and I think we might be able to save the whole country. We're going to Scypia now, but I'm not sure why. I don't know when we'll be back. I suppose we'll have to sneak in to get back across the border. Don't tell anyone... or let them read this. Hmm. No. That was inadvisable as well.

Finally, she went with some simple, honest facts.

My dearest mother,

I hope you are well, and safe. We've heard a lot of scary things from Beldara. I miss you so much. Please don't worry about me. I'm safe and I have good, experienced travelling company. We've learned a lot. I'm with Kitrell Silvertongue--the Hero. He knows people who might be able to help. We're on the move, and I don't know when I'll be able to write again. But please know that I'm thinking of you every day. Nothing I've eaten is as good as your cooking. Once we're settled, I'll write again so you can send me all the news from home.

All of my love,

Your LiLi

It wasn't enough, but she wasn't sure it could ever be enough until she was wrapped tight in her mother's arms, spilling out every discovery and indignity and fear. There was nothing that could be said without risking trouble.