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edenfallingSummary: It was tradition in Ryllan's family -- newborn, yet already rooted deep -- that each child in turn would travel to Crystalglass and spend a year in service to the Lady who was their aunt. (1,680 words)
Note: Written forrosaxx50, in response to the prompt: Illness -- Actually, I'd love to see a branch of that story where Ryllan, Roshka's daughter, goes to Aeriel for help. It is also a fill for the ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ladiesbingo square illness.
Annoyingly, this ended up not having anything to do with how and why Ryllan went traveling in the unknown lands west of Terrain, but when I tried to write that story, this one that insisted on happening first. *hands* On the other hand, I now both have a better idea of who Ryllan is AND what Aeriel might have needed her to do in the western mountains.
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A Long Road from Home
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It was tradition in Ryllan's family -- newborn, yet already rooted deep -- that each child in turn would travel to Crystalglass and spend a year in service to the Lady who was their aunt. Her eldest sister Aethyr had labored to repair the lungs of the world. Her brother Sabla had crossed the Sea of Dust to clear the channels of long-dry rivers in Esternesse, so the returning water would not overspill the banks and drown the fertile plains. Her other sister Keprue had flown hither and yon on a throw of feathers and hope, gathering old books to the City where the Ancient machines copied them a hundredfold, and then flying forth once more to spread knowledge to all who wished to learn.
Ryllan was certain whatever task the Lady had for her would be equally noble. She was less certain she herself would be equal to the work. A malady of the lungs had stuck her while she was still a babe in her parents' arms, and ever since she had been easily fatigued, her mind prone to dust storms, her breath short, shallow, and prone to scrape her lungs like shards of broken glass.
Yet she would serve as best she could.
The road from Pirs to Crystalglass was long and wound through many lands, and Ryllan stopped frequently along the way -- both to exchange tales with other travelers, and to rest a night or three and regather her strength after a coughing fit or a dizzy spell. The days when it took all her strength to rise and wash and sit in the light of Solstar or Oceanus were an old, familiar foe, and while she missed the comfort of home, she also felt a quiet triumph that she had come thus far and would go further still.
"I would have gone to tell the Lady our aunt to send her shadow and a throw to spirit you through the sky," Aethyr said toward the end of their third daymonth on the road, as Solstar's evening light shone mellow and slanting through the trees that lined the pilgrimage path and cast shadows like the ribs of a giant fish across the golden fields, in this last village before the sere and hungry desert. "Wearing yourself thin on the road is not required."
Ryllan smiled as she rebraided her long, pale hair. "I know. But if we had flown, think of all the people I wouldn't have met, and the places I wouldn't have come to know. Father says that when Aunt Aeriel traveled the world before the great war, she walked each step of the way -- and if she had not, she would never have found her dustshrimp, nor the apricokes for the lons, nor the spell-trapped lons themselves. I doubt she has time for walking anymore, so shouldn't we keep our eyes and feet on the ground in her place?"
Aethyr sighed. "There are all the people in the world to serve as her eyes and ears, to say nothing of the Ancients' crystals and looms. There are far fewer willing to serve as her hands. But I suppose this journey serves both purposes, in that we can speak with her voice when any ask our purpose on the road, or when those we meet have questions about the old knowledge now spreading with the return of rain."
"Just so," Ryllan agreed, and held up her arms to meet her sister's hands. "And speaking of old knowledge, I should very much like to help Mistress Lonolo with her baking. I have read of yeast and the keeping of flame, but that is quite different from shaping bread with my own hands and tending an oven to heat evenly with as little wood as one can."
Aethyr smiled and lifted Ryllan from her chair, and carried her to the kitchen where their hostess was busy directing all the bustle of her household toward a single greater task. At the moment, that task was supper, but that was merely one note in the whole: to keep the people under her roof alive and well and able to make the world a warmer, kinder place than it would be without their care.
Ryllan sat on a stool beside the hearth where Mistress Lonolo tended pots and skewers, and kneaded dough until her wrists ached. Then she slapped handfuls of dough against the heated walls of the clay oven, and only burnt one past all hope of eating.
"Scrape it down into the coals and the char will lend flavor to the rest," Mistress Lonolo said when Ryllan sighed at her mistake. "There's very little in this world that's ever fully lost, my lady. For all the rest, we make do -- and learn better for the next time." She patted Ryllan gingerly on one sharp-boned shoulder.
"You are both wise and kind," Ryllan said, and smiled to cover the sudden urge to cough.
She and Aethyr departed Mistress Lonolo's farm the next day, as Solstar set and Oceanus shone alone in the sky. It was a middling day -- Ryllan's mind was clear, but her lungs were sore and her body weak -- so she sat in her wheeled cart and let Sweetwater, her little shaggy-haired pony, pull her along while Aethyr strode freely at her side.
After some time, Ryllan found herself humming one of the old tunes their middle sister Keprue had found in an ancient book from Rana, and brought home to Pirs. Aethyr joined in, somewhat louder, and they passed melody and harmony between them until Ryllan lost the tune in a coughing fit.
Aethyr hovered close, but the fit passed without complication. Ryllan twitched her fingers in a silent plea, and Aethyr handed her their shared canteen. Ryllan drank, careful and slow, until her throat felt less like glass and fire.
"There are machines in Crystalglass that can shape a body anew, reweave it whole no matter how great the injury or illness," Aethyr said abruptly as Ryllan closed the canteen. "The Lady Ravenna did so for Aunt Aeriel after the lorelai's curse nearly killed her. Surely the Lady our aunt can make you new lungs, so you won't have to fight for every breath."
"Doubtless she can," Ryllan agreed in a hoarse whisper. "And yet, she has not offered, though I know you, Sabla, and Keprue have told her of my illness. All that I know of her says that she would not leave a hurt unaddressed unless to fix a small pain would let another, greater harm continue. I would not have my lungs made new at the expense of leaving others to suffer hunger, thirst, and ignorance longer than they must."
Aethyr frowned. "It is true that our aunt has many claims on her time and her heart. It is also true that you are one of those claims. Perhaps she has simply been waiting for you to come to Crystalglass -- the Ancients' machines are not such as can be easily moved, though I know eventually she hopes to reclaim other Ancient cities and move their wonders from the desert to more habitable lands."
"Perhaps so," Ryllan agreed. "Or perhaps there are deep secrets to those machines' working that she has not had the time to decipher. I can think of many ways for healing to go awry, and unlike Mistress Lonolo's bread, I can't be scraped away and replaced with new dough if I burn up."
Aethyr laughed, as Ryllan had meant her to. Then she tipped her head back to gaze at Oceanus, blue-white and shining in the dim sky. "Our world can't be scraped away and replaced, either. No world can. But sometimes they can be restored."
She turned to face Ryllan, walking backwards with one hand laid on Sweetwater's withers. "You are not the only one whose illness lingers as a blight on the fields of your body and mind. Ask the Lady our aunt if your task may be to learn the secrets of the healing machines -- for what is the use of healing the world if we do not also heal the people? Crystalglass is feared as much as loved, but you can help make it a place of the hope one can touch, not merely the hope that shines from afar."
Ryllan was silent for a long moment, running the woven reins through her fingers, picking at each stitch and loop as she picked over her sister's words.
She had thought to essay a quiet, scholarly task, perhaps reading old maps to find lost Ancient sites, or welcoming the all too few souls who ventured through the desert to learn and work at her aunt's side. To repair an Ancient machine, one of those shining, perilous creations, had not crossed her mind. And yet, the task was needful. The work beckoned. And if she could heal others by first healing herself, that could not be selfish. Could it?
"Hope like bread instead of stars?" she said after a time, accompanying her words with a smile.
"Yes," Aethyr agreed. "And as with baking, you start small, with things that can be scraped away and replaced -- a flower, perhaps, or a fish. By the time your year is through, you'll be skilled to throw a wedding feast."
"Perhaps I will," Ryllan said. "But for now, I think I will hope for smaller things: a smooth road, a clear mind, and good company beside me."
"I will give you all three for as long as I can," Aethyr said. "And I promise you this: should you ever reach a day when you have none of those things, nor the Lady our aunt's magic to aid you, you will still have hope, love, and the flame of your own soul. That is enough to change worlds."
Ryllan looked down at the reins in her lap rather than hold her sister's gaze.
They traveled on toward Crystalglass, from farmland into desert, and as Oceanus swung toward the rim of the world, the stars shone bright and cold in deep heaven above them.
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End of Fic
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*dusts hands* Four down, one to go!
Note: Written for
rosaxx50, in response to the prompt: Illness -- Actually, I'd love to see a branch of that story where Ryllan, Roshka's daughter, goes to Aeriel for help. It is also a fill for the ladiesbingo square illness.Annoyingly, this ended up not having anything to do with how and why Ryllan went traveling in the unknown lands west of Terrain, but when I tried to write that story, this one that insisted on happening first. *hands* On the other hand, I now both have a better idea of who Ryllan is AND what Aeriel might have needed her to do in the western mountains.
---------------------------------------------
A Long Road from Home
---------------------------------------------
It was tradition in Ryllan's family -- newborn, yet already rooted deep -- that each child in turn would travel to Crystalglass and spend a year in service to the Lady who was their aunt. Her eldest sister Aethyr had labored to repair the lungs of the world. Her brother Sabla had crossed the Sea of Dust to clear the channels of long-dry rivers in Esternesse, so the returning water would not overspill the banks and drown the fertile plains. Her other sister Keprue had flown hither and yon on a throw of feathers and hope, gathering old books to the City where the Ancient machines copied them a hundredfold, and then flying forth once more to spread knowledge to all who wished to learn.
Ryllan was certain whatever task the Lady had for her would be equally noble. She was less certain she herself would be equal to the work. A malady of the lungs had stuck her while she was still a babe in her parents' arms, and ever since she had been easily fatigued, her mind prone to dust storms, her breath short, shallow, and prone to scrape her lungs like shards of broken glass.
Yet she would serve as best she could.
The road from Pirs to Crystalglass was long and wound through many lands, and Ryllan stopped frequently along the way -- both to exchange tales with other travelers, and to rest a night or three and regather her strength after a coughing fit or a dizzy spell. The days when it took all her strength to rise and wash and sit in the light of Solstar or Oceanus were an old, familiar foe, and while she missed the comfort of home, she also felt a quiet triumph that she had come thus far and would go further still.
"I would have gone to tell the Lady our aunt to send her shadow and a throw to spirit you through the sky," Aethyr said toward the end of their third daymonth on the road, as Solstar's evening light shone mellow and slanting through the trees that lined the pilgrimage path and cast shadows like the ribs of a giant fish across the golden fields, in this last village before the sere and hungry desert. "Wearing yourself thin on the road is not required."
Ryllan smiled as she rebraided her long, pale hair. "I know. But if we had flown, think of all the people I wouldn't have met, and the places I wouldn't have come to know. Father says that when Aunt Aeriel traveled the world before the great war, she walked each step of the way -- and if she had not, she would never have found her dustshrimp, nor the apricokes for the lons, nor the spell-trapped lons themselves. I doubt she has time for walking anymore, so shouldn't we keep our eyes and feet on the ground in her place?"
Aethyr sighed. "There are all the people in the world to serve as her eyes and ears, to say nothing of the Ancients' crystals and looms. There are far fewer willing to serve as her hands. But I suppose this journey serves both purposes, in that we can speak with her voice when any ask our purpose on the road, or when those we meet have questions about the old knowledge now spreading with the return of rain."
"Just so," Ryllan agreed, and held up her arms to meet her sister's hands. "And speaking of old knowledge, I should very much like to help Mistress Lonolo with her baking. I have read of yeast and the keeping of flame, but that is quite different from shaping bread with my own hands and tending an oven to heat evenly with as little wood as one can."
Aethyr smiled and lifted Ryllan from her chair, and carried her to the kitchen where their hostess was busy directing all the bustle of her household toward a single greater task. At the moment, that task was supper, but that was merely one note in the whole: to keep the people under her roof alive and well and able to make the world a warmer, kinder place than it would be without their care.
Ryllan sat on a stool beside the hearth where Mistress Lonolo tended pots and skewers, and kneaded dough until her wrists ached. Then she slapped handfuls of dough against the heated walls of the clay oven, and only burnt one past all hope of eating.
"Scrape it down into the coals and the char will lend flavor to the rest," Mistress Lonolo said when Ryllan sighed at her mistake. "There's very little in this world that's ever fully lost, my lady. For all the rest, we make do -- and learn better for the next time." She patted Ryllan gingerly on one sharp-boned shoulder.
"You are both wise and kind," Ryllan said, and smiled to cover the sudden urge to cough.
She and Aethyr departed Mistress Lonolo's farm the next day, as Solstar set and Oceanus shone alone in the sky. It was a middling day -- Ryllan's mind was clear, but her lungs were sore and her body weak -- so she sat in her wheeled cart and let Sweetwater, her little shaggy-haired pony, pull her along while Aethyr strode freely at her side.
After some time, Ryllan found herself humming one of the old tunes their middle sister Keprue had found in an ancient book from Rana, and brought home to Pirs. Aethyr joined in, somewhat louder, and they passed melody and harmony between them until Ryllan lost the tune in a coughing fit.
Aethyr hovered close, but the fit passed without complication. Ryllan twitched her fingers in a silent plea, and Aethyr handed her their shared canteen. Ryllan drank, careful and slow, until her throat felt less like glass and fire.
"There are machines in Crystalglass that can shape a body anew, reweave it whole no matter how great the injury or illness," Aethyr said abruptly as Ryllan closed the canteen. "The Lady Ravenna did so for Aunt Aeriel after the lorelai's curse nearly killed her. Surely the Lady our aunt can make you new lungs, so you won't have to fight for every breath."
"Doubtless she can," Ryllan agreed in a hoarse whisper. "And yet, she has not offered, though I know you, Sabla, and Keprue have told her of my illness. All that I know of her says that she would not leave a hurt unaddressed unless to fix a small pain would let another, greater harm continue. I would not have my lungs made new at the expense of leaving others to suffer hunger, thirst, and ignorance longer than they must."
Aethyr frowned. "It is true that our aunt has many claims on her time and her heart. It is also true that you are one of those claims. Perhaps she has simply been waiting for you to come to Crystalglass -- the Ancients' machines are not such as can be easily moved, though I know eventually she hopes to reclaim other Ancient cities and move their wonders from the desert to more habitable lands."
"Perhaps so," Ryllan agreed. "Or perhaps there are deep secrets to those machines' working that she has not had the time to decipher. I can think of many ways for healing to go awry, and unlike Mistress Lonolo's bread, I can't be scraped away and replaced with new dough if I burn up."
Aethyr laughed, as Ryllan had meant her to. Then she tipped her head back to gaze at Oceanus, blue-white and shining in the dim sky. "Our world can't be scraped away and replaced, either. No world can. But sometimes they can be restored."
She turned to face Ryllan, walking backwards with one hand laid on Sweetwater's withers. "You are not the only one whose illness lingers as a blight on the fields of your body and mind. Ask the Lady our aunt if your task may be to learn the secrets of the healing machines -- for what is the use of healing the world if we do not also heal the people? Crystalglass is feared as much as loved, but you can help make it a place of the hope one can touch, not merely the hope that shines from afar."
Ryllan was silent for a long moment, running the woven reins through her fingers, picking at each stitch and loop as she picked over her sister's words.
She had thought to essay a quiet, scholarly task, perhaps reading old maps to find lost Ancient sites, or welcoming the all too few souls who ventured through the desert to learn and work at her aunt's side. To repair an Ancient machine, one of those shining, perilous creations, had not crossed her mind. And yet, the task was needful. The work beckoned. And if she could heal others by first healing herself, that could not be selfish. Could it?
"Hope like bread instead of stars?" she said after a time, accompanying her words with a smile.
"Yes," Aethyr agreed. "And as with baking, you start small, with things that can be scraped away and replaced -- a flower, perhaps, or a fish. By the time your year is through, you'll be skilled to throw a wedding feast."
"Perhaps I will," Ryllan said. "But for now, I think I will hope for smaller things: a smooth road, a clear mind, and good company beside me."
"I will give you all three for as long as I can," Aethyr said. "And I promise you this: should you ever reach a day when you have none of those things, nor the Lady our aunt's magic to aid you, you will still have hope, love, and the flame of your own soul. That is enough to change worlds."
Ryllan looked down at the reins in her lap rather than hold her sister's gaze.
They traveled on toward Crystalglass, from farmland into desert, and as Oceanus swung toward the rim of the world, the stars shone bright and cold in deep heaven above them.
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End of Fic
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*dusts hands* Four down, one to go!
