Mara's eyes opened slowly as though they weighed at least ten times more than they had the last time she awoke in her bed. Her limbs felt just as heavy and her mind felt as if it was struggling to free itself from a morass. She closed her eyes again and fought through feelings of betrayal and anger.
She promised me I could choose. She promised me I could choose and here I am.
Her heart sank and she thought that as long as she stayed in the cocoon of solitude that came by doing her level best to not allow the world inside, then she didn't have to accept the realities of it. She stayed quiet. She focused on her breathing. She remembered Bryana's promise, for whatever that was worth now, and tried to focus on her future, whatever that would be.
She remembered.
Bryana said you'd forget.
That was enough to bring her eyes open again, more easily this time, to look up at the ceiling, noting that the wood above was darker than in her own little place. She was definitely elsewhere. She looked around, her neck only slightly stiff at the movement. Light streamed through the window, enough to tell her it was daylight and probably cloudy outside, but, with the unplanned loss of time, she found herself having to wonder if it was the same day she remembered when she rode out of town on a horse not hers.
The bed was large, feeling like an island unto itself and, from her place in the center, there was some protest from her body as she rolled from it and planted her feet on the floor. She put a bit extra thought into trying to stand up before she made the attempt, but it worked out well enough. The initial wave of dizziness passed quickly and, after a few tentative steps, she felt sure-footed enough to progress through the bedroom, through the small living area and towards the sound outside the open door.
Not far from her and the blanket of snow between them she saw Devin chopping firewood. Her movements were fluid even there. One piece of wood taken from the pile with one hand, placed in the center of the stump, then her arm swung in a half-circle, cleaving the wood in a single strike. Once done, she would pitch them into an already sizable pile and move on to the next. "Where's Imir?"
"She just returned from a hunt. She's behind the house tending to the kill. Even after your change we expect to be here for some time."
Her limbs now completely feeling like hers again, she noticed an added weight on her right arm. Looking down, she saw a bracelet of burnished silver with symbols layered upon symbols. Her index finger ran over it, feeling the texture of it, wondering if she could somehow make sense of what was there. It had it's own warmth and, touching it, she felt a sensation tickle her flesh not unlike the power that rushed through her when she took Bryana's hand. She also noted that she saw no clasp of any kind.
Devin looked up form her work to watch her for a moment. "It is Her gift to you. The magic within is as powerful as She. It's Her conduit to you. No magic in this land can remove it and no tools of man can damage it. If it were cut from your body it would become useless metal. It is forever."
There was no reason to doubt her words. "Did we...get here the same way we got to the woods?"
"Through Her magic, yes."
She wrapped her hand around it, feeling it move and feeling that connection again. "So," she began, unsure of how else to express her uncertainty, "what happens now?"
"Your change will begin at Her pace. It's not for you to decide."
"How will I know when it starts?"
A flash of contentment crossed her features, "You will know."
She walked towards Devin as the other continued to work apace, the snow just deep enough to leave prints with bits of grass showing. A simple glance and the woman seemed to be able to read the question on the other's face and she smiled in what was the first genuine look of emotion that she remembered seeing from either of them. "This surprises you."
Mara looked around the small cabin. It was a nice bit of land. She could hear a small stream in the distance and farther beyond than that she could see the profiles of snow covered mountains. The wind was mostly still and it didn't seem much colder than before. She didn't know where she was, but she was definitely beyond even the woods. She wondered at the limits of the magic. Could she be literally anywhere in the world? She suspected so, but, looking around, it was just a small, unassuming cabin sitting on a lovely piece of land covered in snow. "I guess. Maybe. I suppose I was expecting..."
The ax dropped again. "That we move on from one adventure to another without end? Sometimes that is the case, and, when it is, we serve. But it is often this. She sends us on tasks that She especially values. Not everything She does is something like requires us." Another log met its fate with a sound that sounded like a rip of the air. "When we're not needed we live a simple life in one of the places she has secured for us." She again seemed to read Mara's features. "She intends for us to live until we're needed. As she told you, she has no use for empty things. That means cutting firewood, keeping our home, and all of the other things that normal people do that you wished to avoid."
Her words bit into a soft spot and her voice carried that ire, "What makes you think...?"
"I am a slave, not a fool, Mara. With your own words, you say that you weren't being harmed where you were and, yet, you took Her hand. You took it because you knew that your life was destined to be ordinary and you wanted more. Your life will be more in ways you cannot imagine, but it is also this. But even this is wondrous in its own way, and it is all thanks to Her."
"I was you, Mara. I was you in every way, but I will bet that my life was even more meaningless and uneventful than your own. Even if nothing ever happened to you personally at that whorehouse, I am willing to bet that every night there was at least one thing to talk about, and share. There was a fight or you heard a story that amused or appalled you. Something happened around you that was worth laughter, disgust, or even mention. Not for me. I spent my days running freshly laundered linens that no one ever used into rooms that no one ever used. Little of note happened, much less nightly, that was worth sharing. Even if it had, I had no family to share it with anyway. All I and my fellows did was pass around the gossip from the High Houses and imagine what it would be like to be part of them. I did basically nothing, and I was paid well for it. It was boring, but somehow it consumes you. The routine becomes what you're used to, then it becomes comfortable. Then, one day, you find that it defines you to the point where you don't know who you are or what you would do without it."
Mara knew the truth of that well.
"Then, one night, She came to me in a wash of light. She needed me and Her call wasn't something anyone can truly resist. If She demands you, She will have you. Once I felt Her power, and Her need, and Her love, I was filled with purpose and peace. I wanted and ached for Her." Devin didn't try to keep that love and need from her voice. Even speaking of Bryana was like a chance to make love to her.
"Now, I am content in ways that no one who is not one of Hers can comprehend. I wait to serve. When I do not serve Her directly I am allowed to live as others do, but there is still that contentment, love, and purpose. I can sit and watch a sunset and enjoy doing so very much when, not so many weeks ago, I would have told myself I would never have had time to do before. She cleared away all the clutter of nothingness in my mind and my life by taking me."
"I envy you this time, Mara. You'll always be able to look upon it and relive it in your mind with joy, but the true turning only happens once."
"Was Imir like you, too?"
"I was more in some ways and much less in others," she said, making her way to them. Mara found the blood all over her hands and arms unsettling, but, then again, she'd always stayed away from hunting. She was not so naive as to think her dinner volunteered to die and do so cleanly, but she left it to others to do the gruesome work of making it ready to be put to the fire.
Imir seemed to know that, too and she looked sympathetic for a moment. "I apologize for my appearance, but dressing game is messy work and, given your conversation, not entirely beside the point."