She napped, very briefly, going in and out of sleep. She dreamed, a nightmare in which she was the one carrying the wardrobe up a steep hill, being encouraged on by her mother.
Two hours later, the murmuring beyond the bedroom door had long finished, and there was a brief, soft knock.
“Come in,” said Verity with a sigh. She hadn’t been fully asleep and didn’t feel even slightly rested.
To her surprise, it was Isra, dressed in a fresh set of clothes and looking slightly damp from a bath of her own. “There are only four beds,” she said. “Mizuki had wanted this one for herself to share with one of us.”
“Ah,” said Verity. “I can move.” She had already moved her things in earlier, before Mizuki had returned.
“Mizuki said that it was fine,” said Isra. “But it would mean that you need to share.”
“With you?” asked Verity.
Isra nodded.
“That’s fine by me,” said Verity, sighing. “How did it go out there?”
“We heard more about Alfric’s life,” said Isra. She moved over to the bed, and Verity scooted over. She was still dressed in the hotel’s bathrobe. “He blames Lola for much of his misfortunes.”
“I’m sure he does,” said Verity. “Sorry,” she said. “That wasn’t very kind of me. Maybe she’s truly awful. He’s a good man in very many ways, but very Dondrian.”
Isra shrugged. “He should have told us he could swim through time, but I understand why he didn’t.”
“Do you think he would have said, if he’d had to redo a day?” asked Verity.
“I don’t think he’s lying,” said Isra. “But I’m not the best judge of character.”
“If only he were a wolf, right?” asked Verity, smiling.
“It would simplify things,” nodded Isra, returning the smile. There was often something shy about her smiles, like she was embarrassed to show her teeth.
“I guess I wasn’t thinking about whether he had lied,” said Verity. “More about… well, if he would lie, if it came to that. If we went into a dungeon and one of us died, and he had to redo it, do you think he would say or just try it again without telling us?”
“I think he would tell us,” said Isra.
“I suppose I do too,” said Verity, nodding. “Probably in a blunt way.”
“Mmm,” said Isra. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to talk to you. I was going to sleep.”
“I don’t mind the company, if it’s you,” said Verity. “But don’t let me keep you from sleep.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep,” said Isra. “My arm is sore, but there are too many thoughts. The day was long.”
“I think being a dungeoneer probably means that you end up with a collection of very long days,” said Verity. She paused, wondering whether to offer. “I can sing you to sleep, if you’d like.”
“You can?” asked Isra.
Verity nodded. “Lullabies,” she said. “They were never a specialty of mine, but you work with the sleepiness a person has and amplify it. It has its uses.”
“I find your singing beautiful,” said Isra. “I would take any chance to hear it.”
Verity found herself blushing. It was too high a compliment. “Would you mind if we talked, just for a bit, first? To get me settled.”
“Of course,” said Isra with a yawn. She hesitated. “Do you mind if I undress?”
Verity shook her head. She was planning to change out of the bathrobe and into her underthings, as she’d already taken everything she needed out of the book.
Still, it was somewhat of a surprise when Isra removed her headscarf. They’d slept in the same room at Mizuki’s the night before, but Isra had left it on. Here though, she revealed curly brown hair that had been pinned back in several places. It was a bit odd, never seeing a person’s hair, and it was strange how weird it felt to finally see it after so long of having it hidden. It wasn’t clear to Verity why it was done, only that it was Tarbin custom.
Verity decided to go ahead and get changed too, which was accomplished fairly quickly. There was something vaguely anxiety-inducing about getting naked with someone else in the room, but it was only Isra, who had given no sign of that sort of interest, and Verity’s chemise was quickly on. There was a small part of Verity that wondered whether Isra staying with her was motivated, but Verity had misread signals before, and the reason they were sharing a room at all was because of Mizuki, who had definitely not had that on her mind. By the time Verity was finished, Isra had gotten under the covers. It was early for sleep, but Verity had the feeling that once her head was against the pillow, it wouldn’t take long for her to be out.
“What did you want to talk about?” asked Isra once they were lying side by side beneath the covers. It was hard not to read it as intimate. Verity wasn’t sure that she’d shared a bed with anyone since she was little.
“I don’t know,” said Verity. “How is being a druid?”
Isra chewed the inside of her cheek for a moment. “There’s so much other people don’t know.”
“I imagine so,” said Verity. They were looking into each other’s eyes. Verity found herself looking for rhymes for ‘brown’ (drown, crown, gown), then thinking of more poetical synonyms (mahogany, umber, chestnut). There was a particular shade, russet, made from madder and woad, and Verity was on the verge of a good lyric when Isra turned away. Verity turned away as well, slightly embarrassed. She’d been staring without saying anything.
“I spoke with the beastmaster, who was also the bastlekeeper,” said Isra, speaking up to the ceiling. “I looked at his animals. He had a lifetime of experience and as much power as a hex can grant. He had entads to tell him things. Still he was fumbling and blind.”
“Did he manage though?” asked Verity. “Mizuki said he had a large shop.”
“He managed to make money,” said Isra. “But many of his bastles died along the way, for as much as he tried to help them. Where they live, what they eat, the things they want to do… he was ignorant.”
“You felt bad for the animals,” said Verity. With her head against the pillow, she was feeling sleepy.
“I felt bad for the man,” said Isra.
“Felt bad that you were better?” asked Verity.
“No,” said Isra, glancing over for a moment. It was a bit of an awkward conversation, with the both of them staring at the ceiling and both clearly fairly tired. “To devote yourself and have nothing come of it is sad.”
“He’s probably raised hundreds of bastles,” said Verity. “Thousands, even. He’s helped people with new pets and farmers with new animals. I don’t think it’s right to judge ourselves against perfection, and I certainly don’t think it’s right to judge others against perfection.” That was how Verity had been judged for what seemed to be most of her life. “Did he seem happy?”
“He did,” said Isra. “He responded to a slight with kindness.”
“A slight?” asked Verity, glancing over. “From you or Mizuki?”
“From me,” said Isra. “An unkind assumption. Unintended. Still, he was warm to me.”
Verity wondered whether Isra had issued an apology and decided that she probably hadn’t. “Mmm,” she said, for lack of anything better to add.
“What’s it like to be a bard?” asked Isra, some time later.
Verity had already started to drift off to sleep, and her eyes fluttered open, the promised lullaby forgotten. She turned to the side and found that Isra was turned too. They looked at each other for a moment. Isra had her piercings out, and up close, the small holes in her skin were clearly visible. Again, Verity found herself constructing lyrics, and it took her a moment to remember what the question had been.