Siona Willun, The Black Raven
Siona sat as close to the fire as she could, leaning into it and warming her hands and drying her hair. Her cloak was hung up above the fire, and her bag that she carried was by her feet, and she tapped her toe against it. A sword leaned against her leg on the other side, its hilt glinting in the fire light. She thought as she warmed herself, thinking about the caravan she had passed on the road. They were going the opposite direction as she had been going, the wagons trundling along the muddy road, the horses heads low against the rain. Inside one of the wagons she could hear a woman yelling, and her husband sat out on the seat with a look of tired resignation on his face. He waved at her, and gave a sighing greeting of “contas a shohann an grethas,” meaning ‘how goes the wind’ in Terran.
Siona looked up at the greeting, and responded in kind. “Shohann an grethas saor, mac a dheadhfaidth me,” meaning ‘the wind goes free, as do I.’
It was the traditional greeting of the Rosha people, the ones who had raised Siona. She hadn't spoken the language of the caravans in a while, at least half a year. More often than not, when she passed Rosha on the road, they took her as a Terran, and spoke to her as such. She couldn’t blame them though, it wasn’t like she looked Rosha. Though she thought of herself that way culturally, ethnically she was Terran, and had always contrasted sharply with the children she grew up with. Her black hair and black eyes always made her easy to find whenever she got in trouble, sticking out amongst the sea of red hair and green eyes that was a Rosha camp. It made her think of Ms Maadran, the woman who was, for all intents and purposes, her mother. When Siona and her cronies would return from towns, laden with sweets and coins they had stolen and conned off of the local children, Ms Maadran would always appear from inside of her wagon and shout into the camp.
“Siona Willun!” she would say, “A shopkeeper came into camp today! I know what you did, and if you do not go back to that man and apologise just this instant, I will give you a whipping like you have never seen before!”
The whipping idea never scared Siona that much, Ms Maadran was never comfortable with giving her kids any more than a three fingered smack on the mouth, but it was the knowledge of how Ms Maadran would make her spend her time if she didn’t listen that really scared Siona. Once, Siona had back talked, and found herself setting up the Maadran family camp all by herself, before sweeping and cleaning all around the seats for the stage that her caravan would use to perform their plays. And so, Siona always found herself having to apologise to some shopkeeper, who would almost always tell Ms Maadran that she should do better in raising Siona, which would result in Ms Maadran yelling at Siona all the way back to camp.
Not that that would stop Siona though. She liked the adventures she and her friends got up too, and wouldn’t stop if she was paid to. And besides, the guards the caravan employed always laughed and joked with her. They thought she was hilarious, and Siona always like to impress the guards. With their swords and chainmail armor, they were all very exciting. Well, except for her father, the captain of the guard. But other than when he insisted on teaching her to use a sword, she rarely interacted with him, so she didn’t care much.
Siona smiled at the thought of the old caravan of her childhood, and leaned back against the chair she sat in. The inn she had come to was nice and cozy, but a little empty. A young girl, who looked like she was probably around fourteen but with the air of a person desperate to prove that they were more mature than their age approached Siona. “Would you like anything ma’am? Some food, or something to drink.”
Siona looked up and paused, thinking over what she would say. She wasn’t quite used to interacting with people much anymore, she spent so much time by herself on the road. Quickly, she gathered her wits about her, and spoke. “An ale please. And if you have any stew, it would be appreciated.” Her voice was soft and calm, but with a distinct confidence to it as well, and the slight lilt of a Rosha accent.
The girl nodded, and returned to her spot behind the bar. She whispered in an older womans ear, and the woman dipped into a back room while the girl poured a tall mug of ale from a cask, and brought it back to Siona. She placed it on the little table by Siona’s chair, and hovered a little. Siona picked up the mug and took a long swig, but when the girl didn’t leave she turned back to her and spoke. “Is there something wrong?” she said, and the girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
“No, ma’am, nothing is wrong. It’s just that, I was wondering, are you a mage?”
“Yes,” said Siona. The girl studied her, looking her up and down as if she was waiting for more, but Siona wasn’t really sure what else there was to say.
The girl sat in the chair next to Siona, a look of wonder in her eyes, and leaned on the chairs arm to ask more questions. “Do you go to one of the Colleges?” she said. “I’ve always heard about the colleges. They sound so much more beautiful and exciting than anything here. All we have in this town is fishers and farmers, and occasionally a miner might come down from the mountains and stay at the inn. But I would love to learn magic.”
“I’m not from a college,” said Siona. “I learned from a man in the north.”
“Oh,” said the girl. Some of the shine was lost in her eyes, and she studied the fire, before perking up again. “Then, if you aren’t college, are you a wanderer?”
“Yes.” said Siona.
“You must have been all over then,” she said. She looked at Siona like Siona had hung the moon, and Siona couldn’t help but admit to herself that it was a little sweet.
“That I have,” said Siona. “From the north, to the south, and all places in between. Even before I started to learn, I grew up with Rosha. So I’ve been travelling my whole life really.”
A look of realization dawned on the girl, and she seemed to hesitate before asking her next question. “Wait, are you Siona Willun?” she said.
“Yes,” said Siona. “Thats me.”
“I’ve heard of you, some call you The Black Raven.”
“I usually just go by Siona,” said Siona.
The older woman appeared over Siona’s shoulder, and placed a bowl and a spoon next to her mug. “Really,” she said, her voice a little sarcastic, “your the one some folks call the Black Raven?”
“Yes,” said Siona again. Her voice remained calm, though it was clear she was being mocked.
“Your trying to tell me that you’re the one who walks dreams? The one who sealed the Damned Lord, and communes with spirits from beyond the pale?”
“The only unique thing I have ever done was sealing the Damned Lord,” said Siona. “Those other feats you speak of are all magics that anyone could learn, if they put their minds to it.”
The woman scoffed, and the girl looked at the woman with mild disdain for butting in.
“What is it that makes it so hard for you to believe that I am Siona Willun, the Black Raven?” said Siona. There was no malice in her words, only curiosity, and a slight tinge of annoyance at having this woman barge her way in and insult her.
“Your very young is all,” said the woman.
Siona sipped her ale, and turned back to the fire. “Im very good,” she said, and with that, the conversation was over. The older woman sniffed, but said no more, and returned to the bar. Siona put her ale down and picked up the stew, blowing on a spoonful before putting it into her mouth. It was not the best she had ever had, but it was hot and it was hearty, which was really all one could ask for.
“Did you mean that, that anyone could learn those magics if they work hard at it?” said the girl.
Siona nodded, and ate another bit of stew. She chewed and swallowed, before leaning back in her chair again and saying, “All it takes is practice. Just like with anything.”
“Could you teach me?” said the girl.
“No,” said Siona. “At least, not for a while. I still have too much to learn for myself.”
The girl looked disappointed, sad even. Siona felt a little bad for speaking so quickly, and worried she had hurt the girls feelings. She didn’t consider herself a hero, though it was clear that this girl did, and she did not want to be the one who quickly taught her that a hero was just as fallible as the rest of humanity.
“I can give you books though,” said Siona.
“What good will those do?” said the girl.
“They can help you learn magic, help you learn how to control mana, and cast simple spells, and summon simple creatures.”
The girl looked skeptical, but there was hope in her eyes again. Siona dug into her bag, and pulled out two. One was a simple spell book, and the other was a textbook on the fundamentals of magic. She handed them to the girl, who looked them over with curiosity. “Those aren’t the greatest grimoires in the history of the Empire, but they will tell you what you need to know to get started as a mage,” said Siona, before taking another bite of her stew.
“These will really teach me?” said the girl.
“They will help you learn,” said Siona, “but you will have to teach yourself.”
The conversation paused again, the girl studying the books and flipping through the pages, Siona watching the fire and warming her feet. Eventually, the girl looked back and said, “Im Rithi, by the way.”
“It’s good to meet you Rithi,” siad Siona. She smiled then, for the first time that night. It was a bright smile, pleasant and friendly. She sipped her ale, and Rithi was called back by the older woman to help out around the inn. Siona stayed by the fire for some time, watching the flames and reading a book as she ate. Eventually the woman came back and took the bowl, spoon and mug, and Siona thanked her honestly and truthfully for the food. The woman gave her an odd look, like she didn’t quite know what to make of someone thanking her after she had insulted her, which Siona felt was reasonable.
She slept well that night. Though the food was only ok, the ale had been strong and the beds were comfortable. She placed her belongings in the little armoire in the room, kicking her boots off at the foot of the bed. She meditated before she slept, contemplating her path and her dreams, trying to work them out. She had learned to Dream Walk years ago, while training with Joseh and living with her mothers family. Sometimes by meditating, she could work out the complex meanings behind dreams, and sometimes it gave her a leg up. But only sometimes. More often than not, the meaning of her own dreams only became clear weeks, months and once even a year later. She sighed, coming up with nothing from her meditation, and fell into her bed, pressing herself as deeply as she could into the pillow.
***
The next morning, when Siona awoke, she headed into the city. They were not far, and in fact Siona could even see the cities buildings rising up in the distance. She gathered her things, throwing her cloak over her shoulders and hanging her sword from her belt, before heading out that morning. She paid for a hot potato, and found Rithi reading the books Siona had given her on one of the chairs by the fire. She looked up as Siona made to leave, and spoke again. "Are you going to the choosing of our new Emperor?" she said.
Siona paused, halfway out of the door, and turned back to Rithi. "I am," she said, in that simple and concise way she talked.
"Can I come with you?" said Rithi, "I've been in this little town forever, its been so long since I went to the city."
"Only if your mother allow's it," said Siona, gesturing at the older woman behind the bar.
"Misasha isn't my mother," said Rithi. "And besides, Im old enough to make my own decisions."
Siona ignored Rithi's exclamation of age, making eye contact with the older woman, Misasha. Misasha gave a nod and a grunt, before saying, "Don't look at me, I don't care what the little brat does. Besides, if she doesn't come back, I don't have to pay her anymore."
Siona looked back at Rithi, but said nothing more. Rithi looked between the two other women uncomfortably, like she wasn't sure exactly what the verdict was, until Siona pushed the door open and said, "are you coming, or are you staying?" With that, her eyes lit up like lamps and she smacked her book shut. It was the book on magical techniques, the oldest one Siona had, and it poofed dust when it was closed. Rithi hopped up from her chair and jogged after Siona, her dress swaying behind her. The two stepped out onto the porch of the inn, and waited as a large farmers wagon passed before stepping out onto the road. They turned right, and began walking, feeling the fresh morning sun on their skin. When they passed through the wheat fields that surrounded the town, Siona spoke again.
"If Misasha isn't your mother, then where are your parents?"
"They died when I was young," said Rithi. "Misasha is my uncles second wife. But he died as well, so its just me and her. She doesn't like me, but at least she pay's me for my work."
"Lach benachdel leaga," said Siona.
"Whats that," responded Rithi, looking at Siona with curiosity.
"Its Rosha," said Siona. "It means 'its the small blessings,' in Terran."
"I like that," said Rithi.
Siona looked down at her young travel partner, and grinned. It was nice to hear that, though she couldn't place why.
The two continued on in silence for a while, Siona's boots kicking up dirt and Rithi's bare feet becoming ever dustier the farther they walked. She was small, Rithi was. Skinny and short, with hair so blonde it was practically white. Not the prettiest in the most classical sense, but with a personality that more than made up for it. Siona liked her. She was charming, and saw the world through a lens of kindness and curiosity. There weren't enough people left like that, Siona felt.
Every once in a while they would chat, talking about the fate of the empire and the things that were happening. Rithi seemed to feel tired of the Empire, but afraid all the same. Siona couldnt help but agree. At this point, the Empire was bloated and corrupt, and would only become more so with a man like Lord Carnifex in power. As far as Siona was concerned, it might be the right time for change. Should other peoples and races want their homelands to be free, she felt like it was more than fair, and fully supported them. Should rebellion's begin, Siona knew which side she supported, and who she would fight for.
As Siona and Rithi entered the Imperial City, Rithi seemed to lose herself in the crowds. Siona had been there twice, but for Rithi, it was like her first time all over again. The last time she had been into the city it was with her father, when she was five. All her memories were old ones. "Do you think any of these people know you?" she said at last, as the pair made their way through the market and closer to the city square.
"No," said Siona. "I don't like cities, and so I don't tend to go to cities if I can help it."
"Oh," said Rithi. "Then why are you here now?"
"To see who they pick as next Emperor."
Rithi made a face like she was thinking it over, but said nothing more. They pushed their way through the crowd, and once a man on a horse yelled at Rithi for getting in his way. He wore fine clothes, and yelled about all the country peasant's and bumpkins clogging up the city for the announcement. Rithi seemed surprised, but before she could say anything else Siona lead her away and gave the man on horseback a glare. He turned his nose up at the two, but continued on after glancing down to Siona's hand, resting comfortably on her sword. She watched as the man rode on, making sure he didn't come back and try to make his point known to the two "filthy peasant girls," but he didn't make any attempts. Siona turned, and caught up with Rithi, who had made it a little further ahead. They came to the main city square, watching as it filled with people, waiting for someone to come from inside the palace and tell them who would be the new Emperor. Rithi bought a large turkey leg and munched on it happily, her appetite much larger than her size. Siona for her part found a place to watch from, and waited. She crossed her arms, studying the people around her. They mostly seemed to be of the middle class, not quite the poor but certainly not the rich either. Here and there she spotted aristocrats and lords, sitting atop carriages, veranda's and on seats the had brought for themselves. They seemed pudgy to Siona, and soft.