Heart of the Tanglewood - Chapter Two
Oct. 29th, 2011 07:37 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninedaysaqueenTitle: Heart of the Tanglewood
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Betas: openedlocket & earthstarmoon – Always a pleasure.
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Summary: Forests are full of danger and deep at its roots, the Tanglewood hides many secrets. What happens to young boys who never learn to stay out of the woods?
Enjoy!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is a pity that we so often succeed in our endeavors to deceive one another.
- Empress Irene of Byzantium
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heart of the Tanglewood
Chapter Two
Eugenides was sweating, thirsty, exhausted, and the magus... The magus was laughing at him.
“I'm... let's see... more than twice your age?” he said haughtily. “And you're tired before I'm even winded?” It was the magus's usual defense mechanism against Eugenides's whining, baiting him with condescending twits.
“There's a brook. Just over there,” hissed Eugenides, pointing. “Let me rest and get more water. Your mushrooms can wait.”
The magus shrugged, lowering his pack to the ground.
“Don't be too long,” the magus called as his young friend walked away. “Mushrooms don't collect themselves!” Eugenides swiveled, sticking his tongue out at the magus's back before proceeding to the stream.
It was a peaceful little brook that fed a small, swampy pond. The pond itself likely dried up during the hottest months of summer; the brook that fed it being a drainage rivulet from where the mountain waters of the melting glaciers flowed down the hills towards the valley lakes below.
Eugenides retrieved his water cache from his shoulder sack, popping the lid as he knelt next to the small waterfall formed by the brook as it flowed into the pond.
The species of mushrooms the magus was looking for were difficult to find, and he'd spent the entire afternoon digging through pine needles and avoiding slugs while hunting for the erstwhile fungus that grew below the heaps of dry prickles.
He'd already caked the beds of his fingernails with dirt.
Eugenides sighed and settled on a patch of moss to drink his water. He wanted to drain the cache, so he didn't have to return to torturous mushroom hunting with half his water gone.
“Gen!” he heard the magus yell from across the trees.
“I'm not done yet!” he yelled back. He refused to budge from this spot for at least another ten minutes.
“It's not that! I found a rare species of moss growing by these oaks! We've hit a treasure trove!”
“Yeah, that's great!” Eugenides answered unenthusiastically. He'd would never understand this man's obsession with things that grew in the dirt. Just as well, though. The magus would be distracted for a good half-an-hour, giving Eugenides plenty of time to catch a nap in the shade of the pines.
It wasn't fifteen minutes after he'd settled on his back that it started—a rustle of the leaves, the ominous sway of the pines in the mountain wind, the snap of a twig far off in the forest. Helen's words were haunting him, turning him into one of those idiots who still feared nursery stories about witches who boiled naughty children for supper.
It was a squirrel or the wind or... or-
Snap.
That was not a squirrel.
Eugenides eyes snapped open. He sprang upwards to a sitting position and quickly scrambling to his feet. Something was approaching from across the pond. Something large and heavy and, and...
Eugenides sighed and hung his shoulders as a group of deer appeared from behind the veil of trees. Probably looking for a cool drink themselves.
A doe stared at him as she lapped the water with her pink tongue, ripples spreading outwards. Her large, amber eyes were full of reproach. Great, even the deer thought he was stupid.
“Umm,” Eugenides ran his fingers through his hair and waved. “Yeah... nothing to see here.”
If he was going to start at ever passing woodland animal, he might as well find the magus. He hung his sack over his shoulder and grabbed his water cache to fill before he left.
“Most would think to boil water before they drank from a natural source,” a woman's voice spoke—cool, collected and no more than a few feet behind him. Eugenides froze—cache in hand, hanging a few inches above the water. He stood slowly, his eyes wide, his hands shaking, yet for some reason, no longer afraid; not of the Tanglewood—not of it's mystery, it's wonder, and the secrets it held deep beneath the pine roots.
“I've seen you before,” she spoke again; her voice educated and precise, “sitting in the pines like a squirrel, only with a book instead of an acorn.”
He turned, wanting to see the speaker. A woman who he'd spent most of his childhood believing to be a fairy tale—a precaution to prevent children from wandering too far into the danger of the woods.
Her gown was light blue, and her shoulders were covered by a darker blue shawl that billowed around her like a cloud. Her hair was sable dark just like they'd said. Her skin was pale at her neck and shoulders yet darkened towards her delicate hands, streaked with dirt from digging. She held a basket, filled to the brim with plants, flowers, mushrooms, and heaps of moss. And her eyes... Her eyes were very, very hard.
“You're-” he started, “Are you?”
“The witch of the Tanglewood? I hear that's what they call me.” She smiled, a hint of amusement. “Were you speaking with the deer just now?”
He shrugged and rubbed his shoulder sheepishly. “Ah, that depends on whether you believe talking to animals indicates a deep understanding of nature or qualities of brain damage caused by winter fever.”
She smirked, showing the edges of her teeth, straight and well-cared for. Another part of the stories seemed to be accurate. She'd hadn't been raised poor.
He couldn't understand why anyone thought she was dangerous; but that was before she tightened her grip on her basket and glared at him, eyes pointed with heat. “You shouldn't be here.”
“I...” he shook his head in confusion. “You-”
“This is not a place where you belong. This wood is mine, and I don't welcome strangers into my home. Stay in your trees,” she lowered her voice, “and stay out my way.” With that, she turned to leave, disappearing into the shadows and leaving him with a gaping mouth.
He'd just spoken to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and all he did was make comments about winter fever.
Ugh...
“Gen! You should have been back twenty minutes ago! Fungi waits for no man, and neither does the daylight!”
Ah, the magus. Mushrooms, moss, daylight. It seemed his head was still capable of thought.
Mostly.
He stuffed his water cache into his bag and hurried back into the forest, only glancing once over his shoulder.
-X-X-X-
The magus's visitor was to arrive the next day, and Eugenides had been moving furniture and dusty shelves for, it seemed, half his natural life. When he'd confided this sentiment in the magus, he'd been comforted with the knowledge that half his life was not terribly long at all.
“So, so, so. What's he like?”
The magus didn't look away from the top of his large desk on which he was carefully dissecting his fungi samples. Bifocals perched on the tip of his nose.
“Hmm...” was the only response.
“The son of your friend. What's he like?” Eugenides turned from where he was organizing leather-bound science volumes on a small shelf in the study. The books had probably been printed when his grandfather was still a child.
“Age, country of origin, hair color, height. You know... those things people notice about someone else when they're not courting a mushroom.”
The magus snorted. “Plants may be the love of my life, but I am far from romantically involved with Agaricus bisporus.” He took his bifocals off and tucked them in his breast pocket.
Eugenides crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Archaic doesn't make you sound smarter. It just makes you sound like your mouth is full of rocks.”
The magus chuckled. “Don't let my guest hear you say that. He'd probably keel over and die from shock.”
Eugenides raised his eyebrows. A scholar then? “He's not stuffy and old like you, is he?”
“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that and no...” The magus stood up, crossing the room to select a finer tipped knife. “He's a few years younger than you, actually. You may even get along.”
This surprised Eugenides. “Younger than me and learning archaic?”
“Quite. He's a budding scholar, that one. Shows promise.” The magus reseated himself. “And he loves mushrooms.”
Eugenides hid his grin and finished with the shelf. “You still didn't answer my question. What's he like?”
“Oh, shy, likes to read, will probably find you fascinating, and he's from...” the magus paused for effect. “He's from the same place I am.”
Eugenides rolled his eyes. “You've never told me where you're from.” The magus's shady past had always bothered Eugenides like a bad itch just before washday. He'd often wondered if that wasn't part of the magus's motivations in keeping it a secret.
“Exactly,” was the old man's enigmatic response. Definitely enjoyed it.
Time for a question that might actually receive an answer. “Why would he be interested in me?” said Eugenides, grunting as he picked up a particularly heavy stack of books that had been in the reference room. They would need to be moved downstairs for the time being.
“He's interested in all creatures of rarity, and you, Gen, are the rarest of this village.”
“Is that an insult?” he called back over his shoulder.
“Depends on how you look at it.”
Eugenides scowled and proceeded to walk downstairs.
He did not need nor did he want the magus's sympathies.
-X-X-X-
Despite Eugenides convictions, it seemed that sympathy was a lot of what he was going to be getting from the magus's visitor, along with endless questions, rambling observations, and being followed.
Absolutely.
Everywhere.
He.
Went.
“How did you get up there?” a curious voice called from the ground.
Gods, he'd been found.
Eugenides had been sent out that morning to greet the new arrival where the sheep pastures crested into hills before leading downwards into the valley farmlands below. The talking had started almost immediately and had yet to cease.
Sophos, that was his name, was a small, fair boy about two years younger than Eugenides was himself. He'd been shy when Eugenides had first approached him, waiting at the side of the road with his travel bags. It was difficult for a horse-drawn cart to maneuver through the dipping pastures and the poorly paved roads that led to the hamlet. Eugenides had explained this to Sophos before gathering up some of his luggage.
Once they'd exchanged names, the conversation quickly became one-sided, as Sophos appeared to want to know absolutely everything about him.
How did he know the magus? How old was he? Had he lived here his whole life? Who was his family? Did he spend time in the library where Sophos would be staying? What did he like to do? Was he trained in sword combat?
Eugenides barely got a word in edge-wise, before he was next haggled with commentary on Sophos's life.
He'd apparently known the magus since he was very young. This was his first trip away from home. His family wasn't important. He was mostly fond of reading and studying, and no... He was terrible with swords.
Eugenides suspected the talking was a nervous habit of sorts and wished, distantly, that he'd not been targeted as Sophos's personal security blanket.
Back in the present, Sophos waved from the bottom of the tree. “Hey! Can you hear me? How did you get up there?”
Eugenides sighed and tucked his book in his trouser waistband. “I climbed! That should be obvious!” he shouted back a little louder than necessary. It wasn't that he didn't like Sophos. The younger boy was far more tolerable to the company of all of his male cousins, but still...
His cousins.
If they discovered Sophos, there was no telling the havoc they could wreck. At least, Eugenides could defend himself.
“Hang on. I'll be down in a minute,” Eugenides swung from his perch to a larger, more sturdy tree opposite of him and shimmed down the trunk with an ease that indicated years of practice. Sophos stared, eyes full of awe.
“Who told you I'd be here?” Eugenides asked, voice curt.
Sophos blinked but recovered quickly. “One of the girls in the village. She showed me around after you disappeared.”
Disappeared, indeed. More like dashed to safety as soon as he'd pointed Sophos in the direction of the library.
“Girls? Which one?”
“She said her name was Helen... I think... Why? Is there something wrong?” said Sophos, eyes narrowed critically.
Thank the clan gods.
“Nothing. Nothing's wrong.” Eugenides turned away, sighing in relief and starting to lazily walk in the direction the village.
Sophos followed.
He was simply going to have to get used to this, wasn't he?
Obviously, he couldn't hide Sophos in the library for the entire duration of his stay. He was simply going to have to rely on Helen and maybe Stenides to keep on eye on him.
The knot of Eugenides current problem in question spoke up suddenly. “Umm... About Helen. How old is she?”
-X-X-X-
“Can't you send him back? He doesn't belong here.” Eugenides kept his voice low. Sophos was upstairs in the reference room still getting settled.
Eugenides had corned the magus as soon as he'd been free of his newest limb. Full intent on making the old man realize the error of his way.
So far, he wasn't succeeding.
“What?” The magus looked up from where he was arranging dinner for the three of them, having stacked the books and scrolls to the other end of the long table. He stared at Eugenides in surprise.
“I thought the two of you would get along. That's why I asked you, specifically, to go down to the pasture roads.”
“It's not him,” Eugenides replied curtly, then changed his mind. “No... well... It is him, but not because of him.”
“It is a strange language you speak, Gen” the magus observed drily.
How could he put this?
Eugenides waved his hands up and down for emphasis and gestured towards the staircase. “Have you met him?”
The magus stared blankly.
“And have you met my cousins?”
Understanding dawned in the old man's eyes, but to his utter surprise, the magus laughed.
Eugenides glared, not sharing the joke.
“I believe you will find that Sophos is quite a bit tougher than you seem to think he is. He's not had the easiest of lives himself,” the magus explained.
Eugenides wasn't reassured, but it was clear the magus wasn't going to listen to the voice of reason on this matter.
“He'll be here any minute, so let's drop this issue for now.” The magus sat down at the table and waved the young man to do the same.
Eugenides decided to indulge the magus in a rare moment of obedience, but that didn't stop him from propping one foot on the table and rocking his chair back and forth in a sulky manner.
“On a different note, your punishment duty will be ending soon, and I will be forced to return you to the training yards.”
Eugenides groaned. “Kill me now, and spare me from the torture.”
“Do you not like sword training, Gen?” Sophos asked, entering quietly. Eugenides made a mental note to keep a better eye on him.
“I detest weapons of any kind,” he said loftily, before letting the front legs of his chair fall to the floor with a bang. “And who told you that you could call me Gen?”
Sophos shrugged, taking his own seat at the table. “It's what the magus and Helen call you. I assumed it was your pet name.”
Eugenides glared, and Sophos looked away. The magus decided to interrupt.
“You'll find, Sophos,” the magus began, ignoring Eugenides's rudeness, “...that Gen is touchy about a number of subjects. Don't let his pessimism get to you.” He turned to give Eugenides a sharp look. “Or his bad manners.”
Eugenides huffed but relented when he saw the look on Sophos's face. “Gen is fine. Just don't call me Eugene or Geny or any of its variations. Understood?” Sophos nodded compliantly. He was even smirking.
“I was thinking you two might run an errand for me tomorrow,” the magus said suddenly, poking at his dinner. It had been one of Eugenides's aunts who was in charge of cooking today. From the texture, he could easily tell which one.
“I didn't bring back enough samples of the moss Gen and I found in the Tanglewood the other day.”
Sophos listened with interest. Eugenides's stopped eating.
“You and Gen can collect some additional samples in the morning. Gen?” The magus tapped the table. “Gen?”
“Hmm, what was that?” He'd barely noticed that the magus was speaking to him.
“Do you remember where we found the moss in the woods the other day?” Both the magus and Sophos were peering at him curiously.
“The moss? Oh, yes. Of course.” Eugenides recovered quickly. “By the pond with the small waterfall. I remember perfectly.” He stared at his plate, playing with the fork in his food.
“Right...” the magus said questioningly, yet choose to ignore his odd behavior. “You can take Sophos there tomorrow. Show him around the haunted wood.”
“The woods are haunted?” Sophos asked, eyes wide.
The magus scoffed. “Local legend, Sophos. A bit of mountain color you might say. Though...”
“Though what?” Eugenides asked. If it was about the witch, he wanted to hear it.
“The legend of the Tanglewood witch appears to have been born no more than twelve years ago.” The magus clarified in between bites of watery potatoes.
“That's odd,” Sophos added.
Eugenides stirred the mush on his plate. “Why's that?”
The magus looked to Sophos. “I think I'll leave that one to you.”
“It's just...” Sophos began hesitantly, “legends about hauntings and magic usually go back generations, especially in old mountain villages such as this. For a legend to only be about twelve years old...”
Eugenides was tiring of the crypticness. “Yes?”
“Well... for the story to be that young, it's almost like...” Eugenides vaguely noted a desire to shake the younger boy, “...like a real witch moved into your woods twelve years ago.”
Eugenides was silent.
The magus laughed. “That's one explanation, but more likely a traveler or a new family moved to this village about twelve years ago, and brought with them a similar myth about a witch living at the center of a forest that had been located near their original village. Myths grow and progress all the time, and Gen's people merely made the story their own. Isn't that right, Gen?”
“Yes,” Eugenides muttered, not looking at his dinner companions. “I'm sure it is.”
Author: ninedaysaqueen
Betas: openedlocket & earthstarmoon – Always a pleasure.
Rating: PG/K+
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings, nor of any characters, locations, and elephants contained within. All rights of the Queen's Thief series belong exclusively to Megan Whalen Turner and her respective publishers.
Summary: Forests are full of danger and deep at its roots, the Tanglewood hides many secrets. What happens to young boys who never learn to stay out of the woods?
Enjoy!
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is a pity that we so often succeed in our endeavors to deceive one another.
- Empress Irene of Byzantium
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heart of the Tanglewood
Chapter Two
Eugenides was sweating, thirsty, exhausted, and the magus... The magus was laughing at him.
“I'm... let's see... more than twice your age?” he said haughtily. “And you're tired before I'm even winded?” It was the magus's usual defense mechanism against Eugenides's whining, baiting him with condescending twits.
“There's a brook. Just over there,” hissed Eugenides, pointing. “Let me rest and get more water. Your mushrooms can wait.”
The magus shrugged, lowering his pack to the ground.
“Don't be too long,” the magus called as his young friend walked away. “Mushrooms don't collect themselves!” Eugenides swiveled, sticking his tongue out at the magus's back before proceeding to the stream.
It was a peaceful little brook that fed a small, swampy pond. The pond itself likely dried up during the hottest months of summer; the brook that fed it being a drainage rivulet from where the mountain waters of the melting glaciers flowed down the hills towards the valley lakes below.
Eugenides retrieved his water cache from his shoulder sack, popping the lid as he knelt next to the small waterfall formed by the brook as it flowed into the pond.
The species of mushrooms the magus was looking for were difficult to find, and he'd spent the entire afternoon digging through pine needles and avoiding slugs while hunting for the erstwhile fungus that grew below the heaps of dry prickles.
He'd already caked the beds of his fingernails with dirt.
Eugenides sighed and settled on a patch of moss to drink his water. He wanted to drain the cache, so he didn't have to return to torturous mushroom hunting with half his water gone.
“Gen!” he heard the magus yell from across the trees.
“I'm not done yet!” he yelled back. He refused to budge from this spot for at least another ten minutes.
“It's not that! I found a rare species of moss growing by these oaks! We've hit a treasure trove!”
“Yeah, that's great!” Eugenides answered unenthusiastically. He'd would never understand this man's obsession with things that grew in the dirt. Just as well, though. The magus would be distracted for a good half-an-hour, giving Eugenides plenty of time to catch a nap in the shade of the pines.
It wasn't fifteen minutes after he'd settled on his back that it started—a rustle of the leaves, the ominous sway of the pines in the mountain wind, the snap of a twig far off in the forest. Helen's words were haunting him, turning him into one of those idiots who still feared nursery stories about witches who boiled naughty children for supper.
It was a squirrel or the wind or... or-
Snap.
That was not a squirrel.
Eugenides eyes snapped open. He sprang upwards to a sitting position and quickly scrambling to his feet. Something was approaching from across the pond. Something large and heavy and, and...
Eugenides sighed and hung his shoulders as a group of deer appeared from behind the veil of trees. Probably looking for a cool drink themselves.
A doe stared at him as she lapped the water with her pink tongue, ripples spreading outwards. Her large, amber eyes were full of reproach. Great, even the deer thought he was stupid.
“Umm,” Eugenides ran his fingers through his hair and waved. “Yeah... nothing to see here.”
If he was going to start at ever passing woodland animal, he might as well find the magus. He hung his sack over his shoulder and grabbed his water cache to fill before he left.
“Most would think to boil water before they drank from a natural source,” a woman's voice spoke—cool, collected and no more than a few feet behind him. Eugenides froze—cache in hand, hanging a few inches above the water. He stood slowly, his eyes wide, his hands shaking, yet for some reason, no longer afraid; not of the Tanglewood—not of it's mystery, it's wonder, and the secrets it held deep beneath the pine roots.
“I've seen you before,” she spoke again; her voice educated and precise, “sitting in the pines like a squirrel, only with a book instead of an acorn.”
He turned, wanting to see the speaker. A woman who he'd spent most of his childhood believing to be a fairy tale—a precaution to prevent children from wandering too far into the danger of the woods.
Her gown was light blue, and her shoulders were covered by a darker blue shawl that billowed around her like a cloud. Her hair was sable dark just like they'd said. Her skin was pale at her neck and shoulders yet darkened towards her delicate hands, streaked with dirt from digging. She held a basket, filled to the brim with plants, flowers, mushrooms, and heaps of moss. And her eyes... Her eyes were very, very hard.
“You're-” he started, “Are you?”
“The witch of the Tanglewood? I hear that's what they call me.” She smiled, a hint of amusement. “Were you speaking with the deer just now?”
He shrugged and rubbed his shoulder sheepishly. “Ah, that depends on whether you believe talking to animals indicates a deep understanding of nature or qualities of brain damage caused by winter fever.”
She smirked, showing the edges of her teeth, straight and well-cared for. Another part of the stories seemed to be accurate. She'd hadn't been raised poor.
He couldn't understand why anyone thought she was dangerous; but that was before she tightened her grip on her basket and glared at him, eyes pointed with heat. “You shouldn't be here.”
“I...” he shook his head in confusion. “You-”
“This is not a place where you belong. This wood is mine, and I don't welcome strangers into my home. Stay in your trees,” she lowered her voice, “and stay out my way.” With that, she turned to leave, disappearing into the shadows and leaving him with a gaping mouth.
He'd just spoken to the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and all he did was make comments about winter fever.
Ugh...
“Gen! You should have been back twenty minutes ago! Fungi waits for no man, and neither does the daylight!”
Ah, the magus. Mushrooms, moss, daylight. It seemed his head was still capable of thought.
Mostly.
He stuffed his water cache into his bag and hurried back into the forest, only glancing once over his shoulder.
The magus's visitor was to arrive the next day, and Eugenides had been moving furniture and dusty shelves for, it seemed, half his natural life. When he'd confided this sentiment in the magus, he'd been comforted with the knowledge that half his life was not terribly long at all.
“So, so, so. What's he like?”
The magus didn't look away from the top of his large desk on which he was carefully dissecting his fungi samples. Bifocals perched on the tip of his nose.
“Hmm...” was the only response.
“The son of your friend. What's he like?” Eugenides turned from where he was organizing leather-bound science volumes on a small shelf in the study. The books had probably been printed when his grandfather was still a child.
“Age, country of origin, hair color, height. You know... those things people notice about someone else when they're not courting a mushroom.”
The magus snorted. “Plants may be the love of my life, but I am far from romantically involved with Agaricus bisporus.” He took his bifocals off and tucked them in his breast pocket.
Eugenides crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. “Archaic doesn't make you sound smarter. It just makes you sound like your mouth is full of rocks.”
The magus chuckled. “Don't let my guest hear you say that. He'd probably keel over and die from shock.”
Eugenides raised his eyebrows. A scholar then? “He's not stuffy and old like you, is he?”
“I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that and no...” The magus stood up, crossing the room to select a finer tipped knife. “He's a few years younger than you, actually. You may even get along.”
This surprised Eugenides. “Younger than me and learning archaic?”
“Quite. He's a budding scholar, that one. Shows promise.” The magus reseated himself. “And he loves mushrooms.”
Eugenides hid his grin and finished with the shelf. “You still didn't answer my question. What's he like?”
“Oh, shy, likes to read, will probably find you fascinating, and he's from...” the magus paused for effect. “He's from the same place I am.”
Eugenides rolled his eyes. “You've never told me where you're from.” The magus's shady past had always bothered Eugenides like a bad itch just before washday. He'd often wondered if that wasn't part of the magus's motivations in keeping it a secret.
“Exactly,” was the old man's enigmatic response. Definitely enjoyed it.
Time for a question that might actually receive an answer. “Why would he be interested in me?” said Eugenides, grunting as he picked up a particularly heavy stack of books that had been in the reference room. They would need to be moved downstairs for the time being.
“He's interested in all creatures of rarity, and you, Gen, are the rarest of this village.”
“Is that an insult?” he called back over his shoulder.
“Depends on how you look at it.”
Eugenides scowled and proceeded to walk downstairs.
He did not need nor did he want the magus's sympathies.
Despite Eugenides convictions, it seemed that sympathy was a lot of what he was going to be getting from the magus's visitor, along with endless questions, rambling observations, and being followed.
Absolutely.
Everywhere.
He.
Went.
“How did you get up there?” a curious voice called from the ground.
Gods, he'd been found.
Eugenides had been sent out that morning to greet the new arrival where the sheep pastures crested into hills before leading downwards into the valley farmlands below. The talking had started almost immediately and had yet to cease.
Sophos, that was his name, was a small, fair boy about two years younger than Eugenides was himself. He'd been shy when Eugenides had first approached him, waiting at the side of the road with his travel bags. It was difficult for a horse-drawn cart to maneuver through the dipping pastures and the poorly paved roads that led to the hamlet. Eugenides had explained this to Sophos before gathering up some of his luggage.
Once they'd exchanged names, the conversation quickly became one-sided, as Sophos appeared to want to know absolutely everything about him.
How did he know the magus? How old was he? Had he lived here his whole life? Who was his family? Did he spend time in the library where Sophos would be staying? What did he like to do? Was he trained in sword combat?
Eugenides barely got a word in edge-wise, before he was next haggled with commentary on Sophos's life.
He'd apparently known the magus since he was very young. This was his first trip away from home. His family wasn't important. He was mostly fond of reading and studying, and no... He was terrible with swords.
Eugenides suspected the talking was a nervous habit of sorts and wished, distantly, that he'd not been targeted as Sophos's personal security blanket.
Back in the present, Sophos waved from the bottom of the tree. “Hey! Can you hear me? How did you get up there?”
Eugenides sighed and tucked his book in his trouser waistband. “I climbed! That should be obvious!” he shouted back a little louder than necessary. It wasn't that he didn't like Sophos. The younger boy was far more tolerable to the company of all of his male cousins, but still...
His cousins.
If they discovered Sophos, there was no telling the havoc they could wreck. At least, Eugenides could defend himself.
“Hang on. I'll be down in a minute,” Eugenides swung from his perch to a larger, more sturdy tree opposite of him and shimmed down the trunk with an ease that indicated years of practice. Sophos stared, eyes full of awe.
“Who told you I'd be here?” Eugenides asked, voice curt.
Sophos blinked but recovered quickly. “One of the girls in the village. She showed me around after you disappeared.”
Disappeared, indeed. More like dashed to safety as soon as he'd pointed Sophos in the direction of the library.
“Girls? Which one?”
“She said her name was Helen... I think... Why? Is there something wrong?” said Sophos, eyes narrowed critically.
Thank the clan gods.
“Nothing. Nothing's wrong.” Eugenides turned away, sighing in relief and starting to lazily walk in the direction the village.
Sophos followed.
He was simply going to have to get used to this, wasn't he?
Obviously, he couldn't hide Sophos in the library for the entire duration of his stay. He was simply going to have to rely on Helen and maybe Stenides to keep on eye on him.
The knot of Eugenides current problem in question spoke up suddenly. “Umm... About Helen. How old is she?”
“Can't you send him back? He doesn't belong here.” Eugenides kept his voice low. Sophos was upstairs in the reference room still getting settled.
Eugenides had corned the magus as soon as he'd been free of his newest limb. Full intent on making the old man realize the error of his way.
So far, he wasn't succeeding.
“What?” The magus looked up from where he was arranging dinner for the three of them, having stacked the books and scrolls to the other end of the long table. He stared at Eugenides in surprise.
“I thought the two of you would get along. That's why I asked you, specifically, to go down to the pasture roads.”
“It's not him,” Eugenides replied curtly, then changed his mind. “No... well... It is him, but not because of him.”
“It is a strange language you speak, Gen” the magus observed drily.
How could he put this?
Eugenides waved his hands up and down for emphasis and gestured towards the staircase. “Have you met him?”
The magus stared blankly.
“And have you met my cousins?”
Understanding dawned in the old man's eyes, but to his utter surprise, the magus laughed.
Eugenides glared, not sharing the joke.
“I believe you will find that Sophos is quite a bit tougher than you seem to think he is. He's not had the easiest of lives himself,” the magus explained.
Eugenides wasn't reassured, but it was clear the magus wasn't going to listen to the voice of reason on this matter.
“He'll be here any minute, so let's drop this issue for now.” The magus sat down at the table and waved the young man to do the same.
Eugenides decided to indulge the magus in a rare moment of obedience, but that didn't stop him from propping one foot on the table and rocking his chair back and forth in a sulky manner.
“On a different note, your punishment duty will be ending soon, and I will be forced to return you to the training yards.”
Eugenides groaned. “Kill me now, and spare me from the torture.”
“Do you not like sword training, Gen?” Sophos asked, entering quietly. Eugenides made a mental note to keep a better eye on him.
“I detest weapons of any kind,” he said loftily, before letting the front legs of his chair fall to the floor with a bang. “And who told you that you could call me Gen?”
Sophos shrugged, taking his own seat at the table. “It's what the magus and Helen call you. I assumed it was your pet name.”
Eugenides glared, and Sophos looked away. The magus decided to interrupt.
“You'll find, Sophos,” the magus began, ignoring Eugenides's rudeness, “...that Gen is touchy about a number of subjects. Don't let his pessimism get to you.” He turned to give Eugenides a sharp look. “Or his bad manners.”
Eugenides huffed but relented when he saw the look on Sophos's face. “Gen is fine. Just don't call me Eugene or Geny or any of its variations. Understood?” Sophos nodded compliantly. He was even smirking.
“I was thinking you two might run an errand for me tomorrow,” the magus said suddenly, poking at his dinner. It had been one of Eugenides's aunts who was in charge of cooking today. From the texture, he could easily tell which one.
“I didn't bring back enough samples of the moss Gen and I found in the Tanglewood the other day.”
Sophos listened with interest. Eugenides's stopped eating.
“You and Gen can collect some additional samples in the morning. Gen?” The magus tapped the table. “Gen?”
“Hmm, what was that?” He'd barely noticed that the magus was speaking to him.
“Do you remember where we found the moss in the woods the other day?” Both the magus and Sophos were peering at him curiously.
“The moss? Oh, yes. Of course.” Eugenides recovered quickly. “By the pond with the small waterfall. I remember perfectly.” He stared at his plate, playing with the fork in his food.
“Right...” the magus said questioningly, yet choose to ignore his odd behavior. “You can take Sophos there tomorrow. Show him around the haunted wood.”
“The woods are haunted?” Sophos asked, eyes wide.
The magus scoffed. “Local legend, Sophos. A bit of mountain color you might say. Though...”
“Though what?” Eugenides asked. If it was about the witch, he wanted to hear it.
“The legend of the Tanglewood witch appears to have been born no more than twelve years ago.” The magus clarified in between bites of watery potatoes.
“That's odd,” Sophos added.
Eugenides stirred the mush on his plate. “Why's that?”
The magus looked to Sophos. “I think I'll leave that one to you.”
“It's just...” Sophos began hesitantly, “legends about hauntings and magic usually go back generations, especially in old mountain villages such as this. For a legend to only be about twelve years old...”
Eugenides was tiring of the crypticness. “Yes?”
“Well... for the story to be that young, it's almost like...” Eugenides vaguely noted a desire to shake the younger boy, “...like a real witch moved into your woods twelve years ago.”
Eugenides was silent.
The magus laughed. “That's one explanation, but more likely a traveler or a new family moved to this village about twelve years ago, and brought with them a similar myth about a witch living at the center of a forest that had been located near their original village. Myths grow and progress all the time, and Gen's people merely made the story their own. Isn't that right, Gen?”
“Yes,” Eugenides muttered, not looking at his dinner companions. “I'm sure it is.”
