Ryn of Avonside

“This is Rhea?” Mer asked, giving the woman in question a disapproving glare.

Wincing, I nodded. “Yes. Rhea, this is Mer. Mer, this is Rhea. Rhea, what do you want?”

“The coffee. Your weird little bunny helpers haven't been delivering it, and people are getting pissed,” she said. Her brow. Hair, now that I was paying attention, looked like she'd recently taken off her work cap. She liked to wear one so her hair didn't wisp down into her eyes.

Blinking away thoughts of her and all the details I knew thanks to our past friendship, I fixed my attention on what she'd said. The buns weren't delivering the coffee? It was definitely being grown, harvested, and roasted — I saw it just this morning.

“Hey, Kit,” she huffed, snapping her fingers at me to get my attention. God, that was annoying. “You there? Where's the coffe—”

Mer moved so quickly, I barely had time to cast. Her fist, which might've knocked Rhea out in one blow, hit a small barrier of energy that hovered an inch from her nose. My raised hand glowed with twisting broad-leaved tattoos.

“Mer,” I said quietly. “You can't solve social problems the obrec way — not here in Avonside.”

“This vile woman has been rude to you for many weeks,” my tall, buff friend growled, her arm falling back to her side. “If this were my home, I would break both of her arms in such a way as to hinder any hope of them healing correctly.”

Rhea, still with the barrier in front of her, trembled, eyes wide with fear.

Dropping the barrier and my hand, I reached up with the other one and grasped Mer’s forearm. The muscle there was rigid with tension. “Mer…”

“Sorry,” she growled, very audibly grinding her teeth together.

“Rhea, I will look into the coffee problem, okay?” I said, quietly but with a note of steel in my tone. “The buns can be unreliable and willful sometimes, especially when they are dealing with people they don't like.”

“I guess they learned from their creator,” Rhea said half-heartedly.

I raised a single eyebrow. “Rhea, you need to learn to be a little more chill around people you don't like. If you need an example, I'm here, being polite — being the reason you're still conscious — despite the fact that I kinda hate you.”

“Catherine has the patience of Gosbari the Mountain Mother herself,” Mer said, clenching and unclenching her fists. It made her forearm do very interesting things under my fingers.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Rhea regained some of her confidence, and with her thin nostrils flaring, she said, “Right. Of course. So patient. Anyway, just get the coffee problem fixed, okay?”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure. I'll look into it.”

“Thanks,” she said, voice dripping with more sarcasm.

We held one another in a fiery staring contest for a couple of seconds, until she abruptly hissed with frustration and turned on her heel.

Mer and I watched her go.

“She is an unpleasant person,” commented Mer, once she was far enough away.

Nodding, I glanced sideways at my friend and smiled. “Sorry for blocking your punch. It probably wouldn't have been a good idea. Our society is very violence-averse.”

“I'm beginning to see how true that is. No wonder you all live under mountains of tension — you cannot work through it healthily.”

I laughed and let go of her forearm. “I think that might just be an obrec thing.”

Instantly, I missed the warmth of her skin. An almost irresistible part of me wanted to wrap her in a hug and bury my face in her shoulder. God, crushing on someone was awkward and uncomfortable.

Mer grunted, and I watched as a tiny microexpression of disappointment flashed through her eyes when I took my arm away. Seeing that, the tension throughout my body ratcheted up a notch. She wanted me, but I couldn't get out of my own head — or relax — enough to… yeah.

“I need to find Troy,” I said softly. “So let's go back to the room.”

Mer, clearing her throat like it was suddenly full of gunk, nodded. “I can take us straight to Vurburch, if you'd like.”

I was confused for half a second, until I saw her holding her hand up to display her Order ring.

“Sure.”

She reached down and took my hand, which sent an explosion of confused butterflies bouncing around my insides. Then I remembered that she couldn't use telekinesis to establish contact, and acquiesced.

This time, when we made the transition to Ryn's grove, I saw the briefest flash of… something. It was like, for two frames of a video, I saw an odd, tangled version of Avonside — like M C Escher had gotten his hands on the university. Then it was gone, and we stood in the central square of the Order's home base.

“Did you see that?” I whispered, excited and confused.

A gust of wind caught and ate my words, and alarmed, I glanced to the sky. A massive thunderhead, maybe sixty thousand feet high and four times that in width, was marching towards us like the inevitable end of the world.

Mer's hand found mine, and she pulled me away, out of the square and towards the large main hall and tavern for the Order. Currently just called the Hall, the building was recently finished and now filled with a hundred or so members of the order, plus a large number of buns. Everyone had gathered because of the storm, I guess.

We wound our way through the crowd, hunting for Troy, and found him near the far wall. He stood at a table, talking to a bunch of people including Cad, Melody, Bray, and Otho.

As soon as we reached them, I said, “Troy, can I get a moment?”@@novelbin@@

He looked up and smiled. “Catherine. Hey, what do you need?”

Glancing awkwardly at my other friends, I gestured off to an empty corner. “Uh… like, sidebar?”

Troy frowned, but nodded slightly. “Quickly, but yes.”

Mer and I followed as he led us away, and when we were a couple of metres away, he turned to raise an eyebrow.

“Um… sorry,” I murmured, then realised I was being too quiet and spoke a little louder. “Sorry. I acted a little impulsively and created a mage-fruit. I was doing research and I hit a dead end, and I was frustrated… what should I do with it?”

Troy stared at us for a couple of seconds — frown deepening while he processed. “Okay. Not ideal timing. Did you have anyone in mind?”

“No. It was impulsive. There was a part of me saying I was being stupid…” I shook my head and avoided meeting his gaze. Troy was never angry, but his frustration and disapproval were so much worse.

“Shit, okay…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Of course, right after saying I didn't have anyone in mind, I realised I could potentially offer it to one of the trans people from the Circle of Queers. We were a bit leery of giving them magic earlier, but now that we had dozens of bun mages, it might not be an issue. Ryn's grove looked like a raspberry now, with all the bun groves attached to it.

“Maybe one of the other trans people?” I offered tentatively.

Troy considered it, and I could practically hear the debate going on in his head. Licking his lips, he began to nod, then winced. “If we give them the fruit, the faculty will be very upset, since we promised to give them some fruits when we had enough of our own mages. I think we need to give it to them, unfortunately.”

“Are we sure that's wise?” Commented Mer, who looked very uneasy. “One fruit, and they can make their own army of mages.”

“The problem is—” Troy sighed, “They’re still our allies here on the Ring. The reports I'm getting from Duncan are painting an even more daunting picture than the one we gained from our first mission. Did you know that the Empire considers the Anverlands to be nothing but a bunch of warring savages? Did you know that out west of the Anvers, there are more massive Empires and Kingdoms? Duncan only got vague rumours from a merchant, but Ghraiga considers them to be at least equals.”

Mer nodded knowingly. “The Qun. They are beyond the Anvers and the Abers. We don't trade with them much, but we know they inhabit a large, riverland region. There are also a couple of human kingdoms beyond even that, and the next continent over is home to a very similar race to humanity.”

Troy nodded. “Exactly. In the face of a massive Ring full of unknown forces, we might have to swallow our distaste for petty university politics and empower our imperfect allies. Of course, it is your fruit, Catherine, so you have the final say.”

With a grimace, I shrugged. “You make a good point, though. I'll go give it to, uh… Dr. Wilcott?”

Troy nodded. “Good choice, but make sure she is aware of the time she will be gone. Whatever plans she has in motion will need to survive for a number of weeks on their own. Yes?”

“Right.” Hopefully, with newfound power, the lost time could be mitigated? Man, this was becoming so much more complicated than I thought it was. I hope my impulsive timing didn't screw us up too bad.

Being the reason for a whole new set of problems didn't feel good. I'd need to be a little more thoughtful in the future, especially when curiosity was narrowing my focus.