Path of the Whisper Woman

I had not taken Malady's advice back when she took the time to warn me about picking my own fire starter. She had stared out at the lake of liquid fire in the inner valleys and told me that I needed to pick someone soon. Someone with good intentions that wasn't out to ruin me. She told me that the choice of a fire starter could make or break a whisper woman—and that if I didn't make the decision quick it would be made for me by my enemies.

And they would choose Deamar.

He and I stood across from each other in Ingrasia's training grounds in the Seedling Palace. He should have been off on his four year contract learning from the fire starters. He should not have been remotely my concern. But I had dragged my feet about tying myself to another person and dismissed him from my mind once he was out of sight. He had been an annoying hindrance the entire time I spent in the inner valleys. Spoiled and petulant and a nuisance I was happy to be rid of.

Now he'd be nipping at my heels like an ill trained pup and I couldn't even send him back to the fire starters to get rid of him. They had enough. Apparently, a true puppy—or a rock—would have been easier to train. He'd plop his butt down and refuse to move all day, everyday. The fire starters tried reason and bribery and withholding food to get him to move. He did nothing to give back for the resources he took. Nothing worked. The most they could get out of him were complaints. Complaints about being taken from his home, separated from his family, and me.

Others heard. Despite all the hard work the rumormongers were putting into whispering my name into every ear that would listen, his complaints weren't lost in the swill. Instead, they were amplified. It didn't take long for those same rumormongers to start clamoring at the idea of getting us together and those that hated me to twist things so he'd become my problem. My fire starter.

A large part of me wished I could abandon him back in the inner valleys. Send him back to where he wanted to be and out of my life, but that would go against the goddess's wishes about cleansing of the inner valleys. I could stick him in a sap hut to mope, that was tempting too, and ignore him, but at some point I'd need fire and if I always asked random fire starters that would likely end up getting twisted too. Not to mention the times I would need to leave the Seedling Palace and couldn't count on someone else letting me borrow their fire starter like I had the in past.

I hated that I had to think about what the rumors might be saying. Worry that common opinion might turn a mob against me. I had gotten used to being infamous. People would tell tales about Fellen and me making our way through Flickermark, and the time I helped save the commander or killed the water snake. They mixed half-truths and lies together about my presence in the inner valleys and claimed I had walked through lava without dying or burns to show for it. That I had stared the goddess in the eye and She hadn't struck me down for it. They whispered about the delta and the shadow caverns made there.

All that I could handle. They could say what they like and I'd keep doing what needed to be done. The issue came with the new nickname I'd gained in the delta.

The Little Love.

It caught and spread like a wildfire through the Seedling Palace with little regard for sect divides or experience. It combined with rumors about my candidacy in the Succession War and that I had spoken with the Beloved twice in short order. That she had given me an original tattoo.

I couldn't bathe in public anymore. I had to go to the bathing pools in the dead of night or risk someone getting too close for comfort as they caught sight of the pine branches along my collar bones. If they didn't think I was going to join the Chosen, they wanted to know if the Beloved had told me who she'd endorse or how they could earn a similar tattoo or what meeting the Beloved was like.

Most went away when I glared at them but the handful of persistent fools made it impossible to get clean in peace. They all had an opinion and they thought I should hear it. The same happened when I went to a cook fire to get food or stepped into any other communal space, even when I made sure my new tattoos were covered. Somehow the fools heard enough rumors about me that they thought they were entitled to my privacy, and my usual attitude only checked them so much. The goddess apparently didn't see fit to strike down everyone throwing around the nickname which only made them grow bolder.

The only places I was left in peace were Mishtaw's home, Esie's second home for her poisons, and Ingrasia's training yard. My mentors held enough respect that others didn't upset their space to get to me. Esie and I still weren't on the best of terms, but there were times I couldn't stop myself from going to her garden home to take solace in the plants and quiet.

Which was why Deamar and I were here in the training grounds. I had no desire to burden Mishtaw's home with his presence, I didn't want to contaminate the comfort I could feel among Esie's plants, and I didn't want this meeting in front of anyone who cared to watch. It was still a public space, but at least all of the trainees who came here knew to focus on their work. Which was as good as it was going to get since I wasn't particularly keen on being alone with Deamar either.

Perhaps I hadn't needed to be so cautious though. The man before me was a far cry from the one I met in the inner valleys a bit over half a year ago. That man had been assured of his place in the world and happy with it. Now he looked broken in a way I didn't want to find familiar.

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Fire starters weren't normally assigned. Not in the sense of being paired together indefinitely. Those in the Beastwatcher sect might get traded out from mission to mission and a new whisper woman in the other sects who hadn't picked a fire starter yet might be placed with a fire starter to see if they were a good fit, but they weren't bound to each other. They could work with another fire starter if the first pairing didn't fit.

In contrast, Deamar and I had the unique pleasure of our pairing being decreed by a Scales judge. Somehow, they had gotten wind of the Dawn Crawler's judgment that trouble should go with trouble and decided to uphold that ruling here. Part of me was tempted to push for the matter to be brought before Yolanda, the Scales sect head, but I wasn't willing yet to waste the favor I earned from her on Deamar, assuming she would rule differently than the initial judge.

So we were stuck together for now.

His appearance, once so put together and unnecessarily intricate, was now a disheveled mess. His long hair hung in greasy chunks, the shadows under his eyes were dark enough that it was a wonder he wasn't passed out on his feet, and his clothes had seen better days. Stains and small rips adorned them. The uncharitable part of me insisted that was because he was too pampered to know basic mending skills and the rest refused to speculate in case I found some small bit of compassion or responsibility I didn't want to feel.

There was something about him that immediately tempted me to say something that I shouldn't. Normally, I could ignore people and that would be good enough, but there was something about him that made me want to cut into him. Like a boil that needed to be lanced. Perhaps it was our first meeting or his behavior after that. Perhaps I simply couldn't stand seeing someone who had no drive or skills of their own. Who allowed themselves to be a burden and did nothing to improve.

He couldn't even commit to his hatred of me. He'd give me these insipid little glares when he thought I wasn't looking, but I had no trouble scowling at him. Eye to eye. Every time I did his gaze would slip down to his shoes, a tree branch off to the side, anything but me. He had met my gaze back in the inner valleys, but now some part of him flinched away and I wasn't sure I cared enough to find out what changed.

Once I learned what was happening, I had to insist I didn't need a fire starter or, once that argument failed, that I should be allowed to pick someone. I had checked to see if I could switch to Tike and his crocodile, but they were apparently making a name for themselves among the Beastwatchers. Nor could I pick some random fire starter. The Scales' ruling stood.

On the surface, we were paired because I needed a fire starter and it was judged that I could whip him into shape. In reality, I was still a Sapling who shouldn't have been forced into a such a pairing, but there were those who didn't like that I kept breaking the social order and convention, so they were trying to use Deamar as a chain to drag me down. He could hinder through his sheer refusal to do anything and they could finally link a failure to my name. What did it matter if I did all the things I was known for if I couldn't even get one fire starter to listen to me?

Such was the Seedling Palace I had come back to. Everyone was desperate to force me into a position they understood; either by lifting me up to the heights of the Chosen or dragging me down as some Sapling that wasn't really that impressive and that the rumors had blown out of proportion. I would have been happy send the Little Love nickname up to the Silver Forest. If it didn't go away I was likely to draw the goddess's ire once She decided it wasn't just some silly thing people were saying.

I focused on the wind drifting by, the blue-black and purple pine needles rustling. The thumps and grunts of people practicing their fighting skills. The chatter of a handful taking a break and thankfully keeping their distance. Snapping at Deamar for his thoughtless complaints would be a relief, but he didn't want to be my fire starter any more than I did. It took a moment but I managed to turn my words into a question rather than an insult.

"Anything to say?"

He stayed stubbornly mute. Which was also a change from before, but a welcome one. Perhaps he'd learned a lesson about saying thoughtless things. We'd been in this stalemate for at least ten minutes, so I decided to break it.

I pointed to a dome tucked into a corner of the training platform. It was another reason for why I had picked this place. The small home had been abandoned for sometime as Ingrasia insisted that everyone training in her name take care of their own weapons and gear since there'd be no one to take care of such things for you when traveling into Azabel's territory. Most already had the habit and it didn't take long for that care to extend to the training weapons and tools everyone used. With the seedlings and whisper women taking care of everything there was no reason for a fire starter to live on the platform and dedicate their time to it. The dome got converted to storage, but when I checked there was enough room for Deamar to lay down a pallet.

There wasn't room for him in Mishtaw's home and my initial attempts to have a place for myself failed now that I was no longer in the Archivist's building. The incessant mob were always staring and trying to start up conversations. Mishtaw was away on one of her relic missions but a wind whisper was enough to get her permission. So he would just have to stay here until I figured out what to do with him. It wasn't quite sticking him in a hut and forgetting about him, and that'd have to be good enough.

Still pointing at the dome, I told him, "You can stay there. Food, bathing pools, and the rest aren't far away. Just go straight when you leave the training area."

I dropped my arm back to my side and started turning to walk away.

"That's it?" His voice was a dry croak but the pouty glare was something I was familiar with.

I shrugged a shoulder. "Neither of us wanted this and I don't see why I should waste time on you. Especially, when you don't care enough to spend the time on yourself."

"I'm protesting."

"Let me know when that works out for you."

I finished my turn and left. Unlike Juniper, he really had no home to go back to, but that didn't mean I could let him drag me down. I had my own business to attend to. First, a meeting with Ingrasia, Dawnli, and Rivon, and then a shift doing a time honored Hundred Eyes tradition. Deamar could sulk on his own.