2410 Crescin 17, Briss

Ravalee sniffed, waving her hands in front of her face as they walked down the same road leading to the fields. This time, Selva's manwari wasn't going to the rescue so they were left on their own. Not that Cyrdel minded, though. It's not a lonely walk.

"It's a miracle Airene let you out of her sight," Cyrdel crossed his arms, watching Ravalee's face scrunch up in his periphery. "She wouldn't have agreed to you going to Penleth on your own."

That's because she doesn't know. Ravalee signed, a mischievous grin stretching her lips wide.

Cyrdel's eyes widened. He whipped towards Ravalee. "What do you mean Airene didn't know? What are you doing here the?"

What? You asked for my help, Ravalee rolled her eyes. She planted her foot on the ground and frowned. You could say it was a royal summon.

Cyrdel blew a breath, having stopped walking himself. His fingers massaged his temples as he braced his hip with his other hand. "Gods, Airene's going to kill me," he muttered under his breath loud enough for Ravalee to hear. That's right. She needed to feel guilty. After all he and Airene did to keep Ravalee in Depandes, here she was. "Shouldn't you be out on your own? How did you even get here so fast?"

The smile in Ravalee's lips widened. I hitched a ride as soon as your message came through, she signed. You have no idea how nice brownie merchants are.

"Okay, that's it," Cyrdel gripped Ravalee's arm before she could move and began hauling her back to the guest hut Selva had stuck the both of them. "You're staying in the hut. Don't go out until Airene tracks you here."

He resisted the urge to look back. If he saw what Ravalee was probably signing, it would make him stop. Suddenly, a spiking pain seared in his temples, sending him stumbling forward. He clutched his head. What in Nira's name—

That's what you get for telling me what to do, Ravalee's mental voice speared in Cyrdel's thoughts. A shiver ran down his spine. Okay. That's creepy. You asked for my help so now I'm here. What's the problem?

Cyrdel closed his eyes and took a deep breath, stilling the panic, worry, and frustration swirling in his gut. Why must Ravalee be this stubborn? "I was hoping to appeal to Airene to bring you here. It's not supposed to encourage you to go gallivanting on your own."

And it did. You failed on that part, Ravalee signed, her face a mixture of boredom and annoyance. Now, what did you say the issue was?

Cyrdel blew a breath, running a hand on his sand brown hair. "I really am not going to hear the end of that conversation, am I?"

No, Ravalee added a sweet smile. Will you tell me about the problem now or would I have to pry it from your cold, dead hands?

By instinct, Cyrdel stepped back. "Do I really need to die?"

Ravalee snorted. Stop stalling.

So, Cyrdel gave in and told her. They started walking again, the soles of their boots scratching against the soil and crunching against the blades of grass lining the drilled path through the orchard. By the time he had finished recounting the most recent case, they had reached the lip of the fields. Selva's hut was a mere brown dot in the distance.

The sound of metal striking the earth rang in the air. Neighs from the nouris pulling the plows accompanied the cacophony. Chatter and peals of hearty laughter filled the vicinity as Cyrdel and Ravalee passed. He pursed his lips. The last time he was here wasn't all that pleasant, though.

His eyes landed on Ravalee who wandered to the nearest field and began ogling at how the farmer stuck berien seedlings into the murky, calf-high water. Judging from the curious sparkle in her hazelnut brown eyes, she wanted so badly to ask the farmer a question but was hesitating. Her hands remained free of a pad of parchment and a graphite stick.

Cyrdel joined Ravalee and tapped her shoulder. "What's got you fascinated now?"

Ravalee turned to him and signed, How does he plant those seedlings into the water? Won't the currents sweep it away?

"Hey, um, excuse me," Cyrdel cleared his throat when the farmer looked up to them halfway through placing the next seedling in the water. It was so unlike him to strike up a conversation with a random person but look where they were now. "My friend here wants to know how you plant seedlings in water."

The brownie chuckled, bending down to stick the present seedling into the water. "Aye, it's not the water that's making these grow," he said, looking at Ravalee. "Underneath these pools are mounds of tilled soil. That's where we stick these seedlings in. Berien needed tons of stagnant water to grow."

Ravalee nodded slowly, as if digesting the information. She pressed her finger to her forehead, then to her chest, then to her hand in one fluid motion. The farmer blinked. Cyrdel turned to the man and gave him an apologetic smile. "She says thank you," he explained.

"Ah," the farmer went back to planting seedlings by retrieving a new batch of wooden cups from a parked wheelbarrow a few steps away. "Happy to help, then."

Cyrdel elbowed Ravalee back into the flat ground. He didn't want to fall into one of these pools and disturb the planted seedlings. Plus, how embarrassing would it be to walk around all muddy and drenched?

Not that embarrassing, Ravalee's voice gripped his thoughts again. Cyrdel flinched. Did she just read his mind?

Yes, Ravalee replied immediately. Your thoughts are too loud. I can't filter them yet. Airene was supposed to teach me but then you called.

Cyrdel frowned. He glanced at the workers peppering the space as they walked forward once more. Shouldn't you be learning to control it? Why are you out here? He said, switching to sign language. It was too risky to talk about Ravalee's thyminka magic even if they were a long way from Toreza. There might be someone listening in or something else Cyrdel could be paranoid about.

Ravalee rolled her shoulders. I really want to see Penleth anyway, she signed back. Airene won't take me even if I begged. So, I gotta take it upon myself.

Crydel stuck his bottom lip out. Still...

His hands stopped. Why did Airene want to keep an eye on Ravalee at all times? Were they fugitives from other territories and needed to maintain their cover in Alkara? It didn't make sense to befriend a member of the royal family if that's the case, though. There must be something deeper into this whole thing.

He didn't realize it, but he was staring at Ravalee once again. She was staring at him back. Listen, Cyrdel tapped his chin, searching for the right gesture to communicate his thoughts. What's your family name?

Ravalee jerked her chin towards him. You first.

Cyrdel pouted. Come on, you know that already, he said. Airene would have already told you.

I would rather hear it from you, Ravalee signed. It would make it more...real.

He kissed his teeth before heaving another sigh. Sonasson, he signed, spelling the whole word with his fingers in a quick succession of letters. No need to gasp aloud.

Ravalee wasn't even getting close to doing that. Instead, she thrust her hand in his direction. Vivenca, she said. I'm Ravalee Vivenca.

Cyrdel took one look at it, his mind whirring with useless information that in no way connected to Ravalee or her family name. As expected, it wasn't anything that would ring a bell upon hearing. It was as ordinary as a family name could be. That didn't do anything to narrow things down.

Who was Ravalee Vivenca, really? It's something he wished to know.

I'll tell you when the right time comes, Ravalee said in his head, not bothering to sign anymore. Even her tone in his thoughts sounded grim. For now, we should focus on the things that matter.

That jarred Cyrdel. "Yeah," he shook his head. "Yeah, we should."

They started walking again, getting closer to Selva's hut with each step. What did you say about the most recent man to get affected? Ravalee signed as they strode past a noure neighing in complaint against the reins of the plow being bridled on his snout. It resembled a flower-child throwing a tantrum over spilled beeo. Something about screaming?

"Yeah," Cyrdel pointed at the approximate spot where he had seen the man last. "He was by the irrigation trenches, clutching his head and stuff."

Ravalee stopped walking so suddenly Cyrdel almost bumped into her. Thank the gods he was able to stop himself on time. Trenches? she signed. Leave it to her to focus on any other thing apart from the issue at hand. What trenches?

Cyrdel led her closer to the spot and pointed to the mass of criss-crossing lines etched into the soil. "Those trenches," he said.

Without a word, Ravalee crouched next to them and, against Cyrdel's whispered caution, ran her hands across them. The soil particles didn't follow her fingertips' direction. It's like the soil was solidified like that. These aren't irrigation trenches, Ravalee said as she stood up. Her face betrayed her emotion. It was a look of horror. I recognize these patterns.

Cyrdel frowned. "What do you mean?"

Plague shrooms, Ravalee said in his head. They are known parasites in water-infested forests. When it's their season of reproduction, they latch around each other in colonies and bury themselves underneath the ground. The result was they pull the upper layer of the soil to camouflage themselves but they form an additional layer. Thus, they make these patterned etches in the ground. Look around, there might be thousands of patches like this.

"Where did you learn this, anyway?" Cyrdel followed Ravalee as she trudged to the next field. She ran her boots against a mound of upturned soil. True enough, more lines scratched the ground. "Last I checked, you're not a farmer."

Ravalee signed, Learned it from the tomes. You should try reading it. It's enough to help you start brewing potions on your own.

Cyrdel scoffed at the idea. He's already an inventor. He didn't need to add another profession that his father would consider a failure. "Okay, so how do we get rid of them?" he asked. "Are they the ones causing the screaming?"

Could be, Ravalee said. Plague shrooms release spores that can induce hallucinations when inhaled. These spores also burn a trail down a fairy's sinuses before dissolving at the throat. It's going to be painful. Other symptoms of exposure also involve selective memory loss due to some spores getting lost in the brain and dissolving there instead, muscle weakness, and blindness.

It all aligned with what Selva told Cyrdel a few days ago. "So, how do we stop it?" he asked. Excitement bubbled at the base of his gut. At last, they were getting somewhere in solving this issue. He might be able to go home soon.

Ravalee scratched her chin, her eyes flitting here and there, taking everything and nothing in. It's going to be hard, she said. Plague shrooms live in colonies that have a mother of some sort. We really couldn't get rid of everything until we found the mother. It's supposed to be the most prolific spore-producer. If we don't kill it, it's just going to spread more spores and the colonies would just grow again.

"What you mean to say is to strike the head once?" Cyrdel met Ravalee's gaze. Her eyes had never been this mesmerizing, especially when they were burning in challenge.

Yeah, she signed. You've got any plans?

A project that was put on hold for so long flashed at the front of Cyrdel's mind. It seemed like it's high time for him to complete it. "Yeah," he tucked his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I'm gonna need supplies, though."

"I can help with that," a different voice interjected. Cyrdel and Ravalee turned to face Selva who jogged towards them. When he finally caught up, he grinned at them. He didn't seem to notice Ravalee's presence. "Follow me."