“You think that Rolaj might suit you,” said Isra.
“Oh,” said Mizuki. “Well, I don’t know, he seemed nice. I’m a big believer in giving people a chance. He is young, but I’ve spent the last few years just doing basically odd jobs with no real stability, so maybe that balances out a bit.”
“Odd jobs?” asked Isra.
“You know, if someone needs some sorcerous might,” said Mizuki. She sighed. “Not that it comes up often, but I can clear a tree from a road faster than just about anyone. Of course, some of my time is spent tracking down magic and trying to make something useful out of it, but there are precious few things that allow me to make real money. The will-o’-wisps were always the best for it, but kind of a pain.”
“How do you make money with a will-o’-wisp?” asked Isra.
“Oh, they have a rare all-destroying thing,” said Mizuki. “Normally, it’s like… there’s some kind of magic that eats up wood, and that allows me to do creation of wood, kind of? But for the will-o’-wisp, for whatever reason, it’s anything you want. I pick gold every time since it doesn’t matter if it’s misshapen, and it’s easy to test and sell. So yeah, before this dungeon thing, I was going out during the time for will-o’-wisps, just a bit after dinner, trying to get close enough to them that I could use some of what they did to the aether.” She shrugged. “Not hard work.”
“People don’t farm them,” said Isra, almost like a question.
“People have tried, but you can’t,” said Mizuki. “They’re easy to kill, too, so every time someone tries to capture one, they end up with a dead will-o’-wisp. Or at least, that’s what I’ve heard from the other sorcs. They’re a much-loved creature by sorcs everywhere, but they’re also one of the reasons that we tend to stay away from each other. Them or things like them. It’s kind of a lonely profession, in that way.”
“They’re not a creature,” said Isra. “They’re something else.”
“The will-o’-wisps?” asked Mizuki. “Sure, I didn’t mean to say they were one particular kind of thing, I was just kind of talking freely. You know, I sometimes consider myself an adherent of Qymmos, but other times I just wonder what the point of it is. Categories and things. I dunno.” They passed a leafy plant, and Isra stopped to caress it before moving on. It seemed like Isra feeling free to do weird things in front of Mizuki was a good sign.
“I don’t like Qymmos,” said Isra.
“Yeah?” asked Mizuki. That didn’t seem like all that much of a surprise. Qymmos, God of Sets, was one of those gods that people tended to feel strongly about. By contrast, Oeyr was one that people took a fair amount of time to actually grasp, and that shielded her from both love and scorn.
“The thoughts laid out in the Qymr Mos are muddled in a way that the others are not,” said Isra. “Qymmos feels like a god out of step. The infinity of Xuphin and the symmetry of Garos exist in our world, in part, and they want us to see the beauty of those things.” She shook her head. “That’s not true for Qymmos.”
This… wasn’t the sort of answer that Mizuki had expected. Religion was a bit of a weak point for her, and she didn’t know how to respond. “Huh,” she said, for lack of anything better.
“I haven’t spoken with the clerics much,” said Isra. “I have only gone to worship a few times.”
“Oh, I almost never go,” said Mizuki. “I did when I was little, with my family.” And on holy days, and when it was an Oeyr sermon, and a few other times, like if someone suggested she should. Temple days were social events. The more Mizuki thought about it, the more she thought that ‘almost never go’ was maybe a lie. “So most of what you know comes from, what, your father?”
“I’ve read the holy books,” said Isra. She hesitated for a moment as they walked, perhaps waiting for Mizuki to add something. “Is that unusual?”
“Not really,” said Mizuki. “You’re supposed to. But there’s also a kind of, um, guidedness to it? Like, in the month we were reading the Qymr Mos, we had a cleric come into class for an hour or two to explain things, and a lot of us didn’t end up reading the actual book.”
“A month for a thin book?” asked Isra.
“Oh,” said Mizuki. “No, sorry, I forgot you didn’t go through it. Usually the teacher breaks things up into sections, so the ‘month’ was really more like one or two hours a day.”
“And you did this with the other children your age,” said Isra.
“Yeah,” said Mizuki. “Everyone born between the start and end of the year, which usually ends up being around twenty kids, but sometimes there are big years.” She tapped her lips for a moment. “I don’t know how it’s done in Tarbin, or in Dondrian, or even in Kiromo, but in Greater Plenarch a teacher sticks with their students from basically the year they’re born until we’re out of comp.”
“Like another parent,” said Isra.
“Kind of,” said Mizuki. She shrugged. “We had a good one, Miss Liko. She left right around the same time my parents did. I kind of miss her.”
“It sounds nice,” said Isra.
“It was,” said Mizuki. “I mean, I’d never want to go back to school of any kind, but I enjoyed comp. So you were just out in the woods that whole time?”
“I was,” said Isra. “Hiding.”
“I might talk to the hexmaster about it, if that’s okay,” said Mizuki. “You’re eighteen, so there’s nothing to worry about, no risk that, I don’t know, anyone would try to adopt you. But I do want to find out how much they knew about you and how you, um, slipped through the cracks, no offense.”
“I hid,” Isra repeated, shrugging. “I could usually tell they were coming from a mile off.”
“Yeah, but they could still have put in more effort,” said Mizuki. A young girl living all alone wasn’t the sort of thing that was supposed to happen, druid or not. “When I think of you being out there, all on your own, or I guess with animals, it makes my heart break.”
“You’re very sentimental,” said Isra after a moment had passed.
“Well, we’re a party now,” said Mizuki. “We look out for each other. Your pain is my pain.”
Isra didn’t seem to quite take that in the spirit it was intended, and Mizuki shut up for a bit, taking in the woods. It seemed a bit odd to be going on a walk after they’d done a pretty grueling six miles the day before, but Mizuki liked being out in nature, and she had her walking stick, which helped with balance. Every now and again, she would use it in a fancy way, vaulting herself over a rut or branch with ease.
The woods were nice and pleasant, and while Mizuki knew the names of very few trees, she spotted what she thought were twin oaks, growing in pairs, and a number of birches, clearly identifiable from their papery skin, which she’d loved when she was younger. In certain places, the undergrowth seemed to vanish save for small grasses, as the canopy blocked out light, and they were treated to moss-covered logs and stones. It gave the same sort of feeling that walking into the large temple in Pucklechurch sometimes did, both in the silence and in the grand, open space. She was glad that she’d asked to come along.
“Do druids date?” asked Isra. Mizuki was mildly surprised, because Isra didn’t seem to enjoy starting conversations.