Branding of a Heretic (Nihilian Effect)

Part 1: Lies and Allies

"This just does not make sense," she said to herself. Looking back and forth between the old scrolls that littered her desk, she underlined a portion of text. A blotch of ink and then a stripe that wavered marked a note for later. She could never draw straight. As much as she liked the look and feel of quills, she disliked using them. She wished she had one of those new pens with the inset ink tubes. They seldom bled.

Not for the first time, she pulled her finger from her lips, where she had a habit of touching when she was deep in thought. Her hands were a rainbow of black, blue, and red ink, and she figured her mouth must be covered in prints. She also guessed that she had marked her face more than once, for certain when replacing loose strands of her golden-brown curls over her ears.

She looked up, noticing the daylight for the first time since she sat down. When had the sun come up? She vaguely remembered standing a large book on end to block the sunlight that reflected off the blue seaweed sewn into her Meraian rug. Her stomach grumbled, and it felt like hours had passed since she last took a break. She had spent all night pouring over scrolls, but she was on the verge of something—a conflict, a lie, possibly a truth hidden in history—and could not stop now.

She decided that she needed to pause and confirm what she was finding before going further. When she stood to get a scroll from her shelves, she almost trampled her study clerk.

"Lu'vina! My goodness! I'm so sorry, I did not hear you come in," she said as they steadied one another.

"It is quite alright, Miss Ou'bosa," her clerk said.

"Please, as always, call me Claradina."

With golden wisps rising from gleaming tan skin like faint tongues of fire, Claradina's personal study clerk held an air of prestige. Maidservant or not, Lu'vina was a su'nora. She was short for her kind, and often stood straight, craning her neck, as if to appear taller—she loomed over Claradina, who was short in general. Like all su'nora, Lu'vina was hairless, but it did not detract from her beauty in the slightest.

Lu'vina straightened her pale-yellow dress and looked at Claradina with deep, black eyes that contained a thousand tiny stars. "And as always, first name affiliation would be improper," she said, then paused when she saw Claradina's dress. "You have been touching your clothes again."

Claradina looked down at the simple, blue material and saw that she had dotted it with red, black and blue ink. She had chosen the dress for this very reason, and it was the style of clothing she preferred: fine, yet not too fancy, and comfortable. She was lightly plump and required a looser fit than some. Simple style also meant easy to clean. She waved Lu'vina off. "When haven't I?"

"The washing maidservants will not be pleased."

"I didn't get any on my feathers, did I?" Claradina strained to see her wings, which lay folded on her back. She wished they were darker, like the wings other liange she knew; white was such a boring color.

"Not that I can see," Lu'vina said. She picked up a glass from the tray and turned to one of the large stacks of unorganized books that filled several corners of the room. Two of the tall bronze candle stands had melted candles from burning through the night, and some of the fallen wax had formed miniature stalagmites on the surrounding floor and books. Lu'vina sighed at the sight of it. She selected a book, brushed it clean, and sat at the small, round marble table near the lone window across the room. "I have supplied you with your midday nourishment."

Claradina had not noticed the tray sitting on the corner of her desk until it was mentioned. Steaming potatoes and a slab of meat divided a ceramic plate. It smelled delicious. "Oh, why, thank you. You're not eating?"