Page 12

Months had passed but it had seemed like only yesterday Harlow knocked on the front door of Daggerroot Mansion to only find a dead body, make a deal with a garden, follow a ghost, and find out exactly what the Guild Master wanted.

These six months Harlow had been sending written updates with fake information about her standing with Atlas and being able to find the vault.

So far it seemed to satiate the man and there were no more guild members sent...

or at least none that House would admit to.

Although any signs of others attempting entry were nil, Harlow felt frayed.

She was constantly worried that around any corner could be a new corpse, every letter could be a summons back, that Atlas would find her questions about the vault a little too convenient.

She was happy there but when her thoughts ran away from her, the world would get darker, and the guilt would get heavier.

House’s walls felt like they pressed in more and more each day (they didn’t really), acting like her conscience – looming, moving along with her but never leaving.

Thankfully, events had slowed down for a bit as she focused more on her studies and Atlas continued to challenge her with various outlandish scenarios in which she should think of a spell to cast and then perform it correctly.

They seemed outlandish to her on paper but now, having lived such events, it was indeed good solid prep.

When she wasn’t catching up on her spellwork, which was mostly self-discovery, she kept up her bargain with Garden.

It took a few weeks to manage, but she was able to get the fountain to work (Atlas assigned this as her first outlandish problem but declined to be present when she cast those first spells).

Now, she walked the grounds every day to keep the path clear and check on each group of plantings.

She then worked every day with her hands, harvesting, replanting, and pruning.

She found solace in the tasks, and she preferred to do this alone as it gave her time to be more-or-less on her own.

Time to reflect and also time to let her thoughts be empty.

Atlas stayed very much away from the garden so in a way, it was hers.

After the experience – and she wasn’t even the one who was whipped about – she couldn’t blame them for never looking at a leaf again.

However, she had walked in a few times on Atlas spritzing her potted plant.

Even talking to it occasionally.

The moment they noticed her, they’d jump and spin and act like they were doing anything but.

It was this particular morning that Atlas didn’t back away from the plant and stood with their hands braced on the countertop.

Curious, Harlow circled around the kitchen island to the dedicated spot around the herb window.

Harlow’s brows drew together as concern rose in her.

“Atlas, what’s wrong?”

Harlow wove a hand behind their waist.

Atlas gulped and turned towards her, face apologetic with wide eyes and stern lips. They looked back from her towards the plant and that’s when Harlow noticed, the stick, stem actually but it resembled more of a stick now, seemed a tad yellow. Harlow had planted a stick into its dirt to track its growth and it had not grown in a few weeks.

Now Atlas’s worry was contagious. “Do you think it’s okay?”

Instead of answering, Harlow pulled the plant towards her and probed the soil with a finger. Not too dry, still moist. She checked the area for pests, dry spots, anything, and nothing made sense. She had done everything right. It was growing well.

“What do I do?”

she groaned.

“I’m not sure... I can send a message to Betha,”

they suggested.

“No, don’t. I...”

Harlow didn’t want to admit failure. She had been so damn close. And although she’d have to agree with Bethal that it wasn’t hard to appreciate plants without the use of magic, which she did... mostly in the garden. But this was her original task, the only thing that anyone from town had asked of her, and she couldn’t complete it. She felt defeated.

Atlas reached gently to her chin, turning her to them, and smiled warmly. “It’ll be okay. Asking for help is not a bad thing. Besides, Bethal never said you couldn’t come to her for help.”

Harlow nodded, nuzzling into their hand. Atlas pulled closer and rested their forehead on hers. “Come on, I’ll go with. It’s about time to head into town again.”

Just like before, they geared up for a walk and not a port. Harlow was anxious and fretted with her bottom lip, causing it to swell and almost split as they walked. She was so distracted that she didn’t even notice Atlas wrestling with something of their own.

She paused halfway to town still on the dirt paths and looked at what the fuss was about. “What. Is. That?”

All that she could see was Atlas struggling with their clothing, a tiny fur thing climbing about from inside causing Atlas to wince but not react otherwise. “Just a little mewling.”

“A what?”

What was a mewling?

“A mewling... a kitten.”

Atlas opened up their shirt wider to expose the white kitten with brown-striped spots clinging to their shoulder and chest.

“How the hell did you get that?”

Harlow laughed at the image of Atlas with arms up and outstretched, desperately not trying to cause the cat any duress while the cat was certainly distressing Atlas.

“Oh, the groundskeeper found it, and perfect timing too.”

Atlas smirked and continued the trudge to town with their hands up, unsure of how to handle such a best.

Harlow went through the list of names in her mind, desperately trying to recall a groundskeeper but came up with nothing. “Wait, what do you mean groundskeeper?!”

Harlow ran after them while holding the pot to her chest and blocking the stem with her other hand. “I haven’t met a groundskeeper, Atlas!”

The Spellsaven laughed as if it was a trivial thing and Harlow decided to ask them about it later... maybe when there wasn’t a pin-needle-clawed mewling assaulting them. Besides, they seemed to like to uphold the mystery of the house and now its grounds.

As before there was a group of children, some missing from the group and other ones Harlow had never seen before. They all gathered around them, but it was Atlas who stepped carefully through the children to stand next to Sophia.

The wizard got on their knees and reached into their voluminous shirt, all while Sophia was wide-eyed and waiting. Harlow winced when Sophia squealed in excitement as Atlas presented the mewling.

The kitten clung to the little girl ,who seemed unafraid nor impacted by the same claws that rendered Atlas into a defensive state. She held it close to her and tears pooled into the corners of her eyes. Frantic at this, Atlas padded their clothing to discover a collar hidden there previously.

“Quick, Harlow, a bonding spell please.”

Atlas held the brown leather collar up to her.

A bonding spell was easy enough and something well within her abilities. Sophia would be able to locate the mewling whenever she wished and if the distance between them got too much, she would be alerted. A very standard spell that needed no prep; just the animal and person with the collar used as a non-consumed reagent.

As Sophia walked away with her pet, Harlow leaned her head on Atlas’ shoulder as they watched the group of children volley around them begging for a change to pet the mewling. “So, she asked for a kitten, hmm?”

“Oh, not at all.”

Harlow shot them a look of confusion. “Then why did you give her a cat?”

“Because she asked for a best friend. “ Atlas leaned over and gave Harlow a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Oh, and her parents were okay with that?”

Harlow fought off a blush from the moment of affection with her question.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I didn’t ask them. Why would I?”

Atlas asked this genuinely. They seemed like this was an outlandish suggestion.

Harlow’s stomach dropped, the Spellsaven was truly out of touch sometimes. “Atlas...”

“Did you ask your parents if you could have a best friend or did your best friend happen upon you?”

they challenged.

“I don’t think that’s the same.”

Harlow scoffed.

“I don’t see how it’s not.”

Atlas huffed and trailed off, distracted by the general shop’s outdoor display.

Harlow noticed their body was tight now, far different from the hilariously posed juggling of a cat.

Their shoulders were stiff and they were poking around the stand outside the shop without a clear direction.

She wanted to go up and wrap her arms around them.

Perhaps even pull them intp a series of gentle kisses.

But they never had that conversation on where they stood, on if there was a relationship of any seriousness.

It hadn’t even occurred to her to think of it as everything had been so easy.

Atlas would come up behind her in the kitchen and lavish her neck with kisses.

Harlow would come in from a longer session of gardening and Atlas would be there with spirits and a message.

A massage that stayed a massage.

They were attentive.

Harlow would occasionally, and only occasionally due to Atlas’s generally very easygoing mood, see their eyebrows knit together, and she’d take a finger and smooth them out, which would distract Atlas enough that it would pull them out of whatever bothered them.

Or, enough for Atlas to begin telling Harlow everything that frustrated them.

Usually, an attempt to widen social skill spells.

Atlas was dead set on a spell to make learning languages easier.

They were perturbed that everyone relied on citywide translation spells and did no more work.

A lover of all languages, Atlas wanted to make languages accessible to the individual.

Years and years ago it was put up to vote upon having a designated language of the major cities.

A few mages and wizards banded together to strike down the deal but the compromise was that a translation spell would be in effect in any major city.

She had read that when Atlas was an apprentice, they were on a list of signatures signing in the compromise but voting for all languages to continue.

But there would be little she could do at the moment, as no massaging of their brows would work.

Would Atlas care for public affection...

in earnest, would she? The kiss on the cheek was sweet but could easily be left up to interpretation.

It was not lost on Harlow that she was...

in some sort of relationship… with her mentor and that naturally there could be power dynamics in play.

Would she want the townspeople to know there was something more intimate in their relationship than apprentice and mentor? It would not be a shock to anyone, it was common, and many spouses were from similar bonds.

Even people married before the apprenticeship would take on their partner to further their knowledge.

Harlow took a few steps forward and placed her hand on Atlas’s upper back, and she felt them relax in response.

Atlas turned and looked toward her with a strained grin.

“How about I go see Bethal and you check on everyone from this list?”

Harlow brought out the old list that the Spellsaven had given her before and handed it over.

Atlas laughed and nodded. “That sounds like a great plan.”

Harlow nodded and smiled gently before turning towards the street.

“Thank you.”

Atlas said it so earnestly that Harlow smirked without looking back.

The walk was quicker now that she knew the location of the infamous Bethal.

The creature was still something she couldn’t see from the road.

Yet again she knocked and was unanswered.

This time, however, she made her way around the house to the back garden.

She noticed Bethal immediately, dressed in a yellow kurta and light blue linen pants.

But between her and Bethal, she noticed a few plants turn towards her.

She might have missed it before but now that she was so present in the Daggerroot Garden, she knew what plants with a little more awareness looked like.

Her chest tightened and she surveyed around her in the backyard.

Should anything reach towards her, she would be surrounded.

Her best bet for escape would be to run to Bethal and hope that she was truly the great person that Atlas had referred to months ago.

Her fingers clutched the pot and before Harlow could take a testing step forward, her concentration was broken.

“Ah, don’t worry, they don’t bite.”

Bethal waved a trowel in her direction to beckon her closer.

She didn’t respond but took a few steps instead; indeed they stayed within their flower beds and all but one bunch turned back their direction to the slowly setting sun.

“There you go.”

Bethal dusted Harlow’s shoulders with a clean rag from her gardening apron.

Desperate to break the silence in her throat, Harlow stammered, “O-oh, did you raise those yourself?”

She had trouble when referring to plants who were more aware and if they were grown or raised or what the appropriate terminology was. Atlas was useless for information on this topic.

“For the most part. Not from the seed though, just from cuttings.”

“Cuttings, from where?”

“Daggerroot Manor of, course.”

Bethal’s head fell back as she laughed full-heartedly.

“You’ve been to the Daggerroot gardens?”

Harlow was shocked – how did this woman survive?

“Yes, a few owners before the young Spellsaven took over, I used to tend to it every weekend.”

She looked wistfully at the no-longer cuttings. “A truly enchanting garden, I must say. But, look at me going on about nonsense. How are you holding up, Apprentice?”

Harlow must have hidden the pot behind her back when she approached and now she sheepishly looked to Bethal, about to break the dam of frustration and admit to her that she failed. “I’m sorry, Bethal, I killed it.”

Harlow brought the plant out in front of her and for the first time in a long time, she felt so inadequate. If anything happened, perhaps Atlas would treat her to another massage; that would be something to look forward to.

“Oh? Well, let me see.”

She motioned for Harlow to hurry up.

She produced the plant and refused to look down at it; instead she analyzed Bethal’s face.

“Ah, I see.”

Bethal’s face was unreadable. Of course, the old biddy had mastered a blank face.

Harlow opened her mouth to utter more apologies but was interrupted when Bethal raised a hand to cut her off.

“Well, it looks very healthy, don’t know what you’re going on about on it being dead and all.”

Bethal scoffed at her with a shrug.

“But... it’s a bit yellow…”

She stretched a finger towards the plant, trying to pinpoint the yellow’s location as if a scout in the woods.

“Barely.”

Bethal waved her off with a hand.

“And it’s stopped growing altogether, for three weeks…”

Was it truly no big deal or did Bethal not take her that seriously. This was a serious matter! A plant’s life was at stake, damn it!

“Of course it has.“ Bethal laughed.

This must be some trick. Surely. Was this even a plant that Bethal had given her? Harlow could feel the edges of her ears burn with embarrassment.

Bethal’s blank face melted, and she smiled encouragingly. “We’re through fall now and it’s going dormant to store energy for spring. Your soil looks great, and I don’t notice any pests. The yellowness is just an indication of it getting ready...”

“So... it’s okay?”

“Yes, Apprentice, you did good.”

She laughed and reached out to lightly squeeze Harlow’s shoulder for comfort.

Harlow stood there with the pot still slightly outstretched, and she gazed down on it. “You’re okay,”

she whispered before bring it back to her chest. She poked the stem with her finger, “You’re okay.”

“Yes, it’s okay, and you’re okay.”

Bethal placed a hand on her shoulder and gave another gentle squeeze. “You did good. You did it, and without any magic at all. How did that go for you?”

“It felt like nonsense at first but... I admit, I looked forward to spending time with it every day.”

Harlow uttered silent goodbyes and held the pot back out to the gardener. “Here you go then.”

“Oh, I’m not taking that. “ Bethal pulled back and shook her head.

“But...”

Harlow took a small step forward; did she need to chase the woman down?

“It’s yours. It likes you; I can tell. And besides, when I sent it with you, I sent it home.”

Bethal raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean, home?”

Harlow’s interpretation of home was loose. A figment of imagination she desperately wanted to fill but each mention of it, each room she’d talk about, wasn’t really home. Home was an ideal. One that Harlow thought was unachievable.

“Well, the mother plant that the seed is from is from Daggerroot Manor, of course. I do hope she’s still up and kicking.”

“Oh, you have no idea.”

Harlow relaxed, bringing the plant back against the safety of her chest.

“Well done, Apprentice, I’ll have to schedule you to assist with the wheel in spring.”

She gestured back to the location of it as if Harlow could forget that day.

She nodded affirmatively. She was about to go but something still weighed on her. “Bethal?”

By the time she found her tongue, Bethal was already back on her knees in a planter. “Yes?”

“Why did you say this plant was appropriate for me?”

Bethal smirked and leaned back on her feet. “Because of your heart, my dear.”

“What about it?”

Her expression was on the border of glaring down Bethal, ready for some insult or wild speculation.

“Your mind, your form, your progress is all very impressive but I could tell, young apprentice, that you’d been neglecting matters of the heart.”

She looked her up and down before continuing. “But I see that’s no longer the case and now your seedling is no longer a seedling.”

Harlow nodded, feeling uncomfortable enough to not want to continue the conversation but comfortable enough to know that the answer to that was the budding feelings between her and Atlas.

With only slightly embarrassed rosy cheeks, she went to leave, taking a paving stone with each step.

She was studying the stem, wondering just how long it would be dormant, when she ran straight into something or someone in front of her.

Whatever she ran into was firm and steadfast so she had bounced back a bit but managed nonetheless with quick feet.

Her gaze went from the ground, where a bit of dirt from her pot had spilled out, up a set of deep purple robes, stitched by hand in golden thread.

Familiar robes. Her head titled back to take in the full form of Magdalanous.

“Oh, shit.“ What have I done to summon the Librarian after me?

“Ah, Apprentice Spellsaven Hedgewater, what brings you to my home?”

The Dragonkin’s unreadable face peered down to her.

“Your home? I was just…”

She checked for exits, which were, well, everywhere. They were outside she could run off in any direction. But there would be nothing to block the view unless she ran further back into Bethal’s garden.

“She was giving me a little visit, love.”

Bethal appeared behind her and slipped her garden items into her apron.

Magdalanous took a side step around Harlow and held those dirt-covered hands and brought them to kher lips, bestowing a kiss each. “I hope it was a good visit... no harassing of the apprentices again, hmm?”

Bethal shot her a wide grin. “I never promised, and no, I wasn’t harassing her.”

Magdalanous looked over to Harlow for confirmation which, she quickly gave with a nod.

Harlow looked away as the two showered each other with quick kisses, a rather adorable thing she frankly would have never thought either one capable of.

When the kissing noises ceased, Harlow turned back to greet the Spellsaven Librarian appropriately with the respected hand across her chest movement which was, for the first time ever, returned.

They seemed lax enough for a question, or hopefully five, on this whole situation. “Your partner is a Spellsaven... but you don’t trust magic?”

Magdalanous rolled kher eyes and hugged Bethal teasingly.

“I trust magic. I don’t trust people. Anyone who doesn’t do the work in the first place makes me wary; to profit off others is a travesty,”

she said simply.

Harlow didn’t have much to say in response to that. Her very profession was a profit off of others, she’d say, although she put in work in a different way. Harlow said her goodbyes and walked off before Magdalanous leaned over and asked her to meet kher out front.

Harlow was nervous. What could the Librarian want from her – did she do something wrong, did Bethal say something she wasn’t aware of?

“Bethal, hey, I’ve started work on Daggerroot Gardens, perhaps you’d like to come for a visit, I’m sure the garden would love to see you again,”

she nearly shouted, trying to walk straight while also looking back towards the lovebirds.

She hoped it was at least. She had no idea if the garden would treat Bethal the same as it did Atlas and her initially but in the last few months it had calmed down, and it stood to reason that someone who was respected enough to get cuttings from the garden would fare well now.

Bethal brightened more than Harlow had ever seen her. “I’d really, really love to!”

She squeezed Magdalanous’ claw and even from a yard away, Harlow could could see her wheels turning.

Harlow waited out front, shifting the small pot from one crook of her arm to the other. She watched the two embrace again and kiss more gently before khey released her and brushed the hair out of Bethal’s face.

Magdalanous reached Harlow’s side and that same nervousness from her library visits was back. It seemed distance from Bethal was what melted kher cold disposition and now that Bethal found her way back into the house, the Spellsaven was as khey had always been known to be.

“Walk with me.”

A suggestion and not quite a demand. “I’ve left my apprentice at Buttons and I need to retrieve him before he wanders off.”

She said it like it had happened before.

She knew the type, obviously. She didn’t think one could pin down Atlas and it stood to reason there were others just as freeform, just as spirited away as them.

They walked in silence. Harlow more so spent from any social spoons she had left for the day and Magdalanous didn’t seem to require anything else. It wasn’t awkward, nor was it warm like the silence between Atlas and her just existing together.

Up ahead she saw Atlas manically waving their arms about talking to another robed figure...

the robes were a combination of class designation.

Mostly sorcerer, which of course there would be one to travel and strike up conversation with Atlas.

She was curious about the different magical classes through the Spellsaven’s eyes.

Atlas did seem to be 100% wizard, having worked for every bit of magic and not at all naturally gifted (although their flourishes may make it seem to be) like sorcerers and mages.

As they approached and Atlas moved aside, Harlow could see the person’s face and she stopped in her tracks.

Fuck.

Of course.

Of course, it couldn’t just be fucking easy and stay the way it had been.

She knew it was possible that this daydream of a life would be shattered with reality.

Could guarantee it even.

But here now, this person was the manifestation that her responsibilities, her commitments would never just go away and solve themselves.

With this person here now, it meant that any plans and the backup plans for those plans were now out the window.

She’d run out of time.

Magdalanous approached, and the person bowed and Atlas nodded respectfully to kher.

“Ah, Magdalanous! I was just talking to your apprentice...”

Apprentice!? Oh, for fuck’s sake.

Lithon didn’t meet her eyes until Atlas gestured to Harlow. “And I see you’ve already touched base with my apprentice.”

Lithon now looked to her with a wide smirk. He crossed his chest with the respectful greeting she had issued earlier and he swept low, too low in a formal bow.

“Apprentice Headgewater to Spellsaven Daggerroot, a pleasure to see you out of the classroom and out on the grounds. I have missed your presence on drills.”

He smiled with all his teeth and Harlow fought a deep sigh. “Apprentice Lithon. How great to see you. Congratulations, I had no idea that you gained apprenticeship – and to Spellsaven Magdalanous, that’s very impressive. Especially for a sorcerer.”

“Wonderful!”

None the wiser, Atlas brightened and gestured back down the path. “You both must visit for tea! It would be great for my apprentice to have a known visitor and not my stuffy old acquaintances.”

Oh gods damn it and that heart of theirs.

Lithon’s eyes narrowed and he smirked widely. A smirk that often made people swoon but Harlow figured was only villainous and only because this time it was directed at her.

Which was fitting since she was well aware Lithon was on the Guild’s payroll as a sorcerer informant.

And now, they were coming, invited even, to Daggerroot Manor.

She was in a difficult position but she was thankful it was Lithon above anyone else.

It’s possible that the Guild Master felt Copperkelly’s disappearance was her doing and so he sent Lithon knowing that she would not kill him.

OK, well, it would take more than professional rivalry for her to kill him.

It was a smart move on his part.

However, she’d be lying if she didn’t feel some relief at the familiar face.

Harlow worried her bottom lip, biting a layer of skin clean off.

She knew how she felt about her old… friend… but how far did Lithon’s loyalty to their Guild Master go? And how far would the Guild Master let him go with unlimited means to cover it up?