“But the owl is so much easier. I don’t even have to walk.”
She was a bird that didn’t even want to move.
Why did Nea even choose an owl in the first place?
Her overconfidence, too, only left me more worried. She was going to stand out. All Nea knew of the world was what she read of it in books, so something was bound to happen. I decided then and there that she’d have to wait somewhere safe while I handed over our letter to Samariarl’s leaders.
“Aruku,” I said, “shall we have Amako and Nea wait somewhere while we deliver the letter? I’m not keen on putting them together given how they get along, but it’s better than having them with us in the castle, right?”
“Yes, I agree,” replied Aruku. “We’ll have them wait somewhere together with Blurin. Does that work for you, Amako? Nea?”
“Nope,” said Amako and Nea together.
I should have known.
This wasn’t surprising after the last few days. My shoulders slumped with defeat, and at that moment Amako tugged at my coat sleeve. I looked down at her.
“But if we have to, then . . . I will,” muttered Amako.
“Amako,” I said.
She’s a good girl. She’s too good. She understands the circumstances so well that now I’m worried about her.
“Nea? That means you too,” I started.
“No way,” she said, cutting me off. “Why do I have to waste my time with some disrespectful beastkin?”
She’s so annoying. Aren’t you supposed to be older than Amako? I guess you leave me no choice.
I walked on over to Blurin and gave him a pat on the head.
“Amako’s being so responsible. You think so too, right? She’s not like someone else I know, all stubborn and selfish.”
“Gwah.”
“You’re right, Blurin. How about meat for dinner? All you’ve been eating recently is fruit. You need something that’s going to give you some more power. Aha! How about some kind of bird meat? I think I know just the thing . . .”
Nea made to fly from my shoulder in a panic, but I held her in place with my left hand. She squealed. I turned my eyes to her with a smile. The were met with the sight of a teary-eyed owl shivering in place.
Well, how about it? How about you?
“You know, I was just thinking of how happy I’d be to wait with Amako!” Nea said.
“Oh, is that so? I’m so glad,” I said.
Finally, she was willing to play along. I nodded and let her go free. Nea shook her head.
“How can you just torment and intimidate people so calmly?!” she cried. “Have I lost touch with common sense or are you completely insane?!”
“Relax,” said Amako. “He’s just completely insane.”
Aruku laughed.
“Well, he’s certainly one of a kind,” he added.
“Don’t make it sound like it’s good!” protested Nea.
In the end, the whole bird meat thing was a joke anyway. But sometimes it was a necessary measure. If Nea got too stubborn, she’d only make things harder for all of us.
“Well, you’ve said it now, so I expect you to keep your word,” I said to Nea.
“Hmph,” she replied. “Why are you so afraid that I’ll be discovered, anyway? If we’re found out, I’ll just tinker with people’s memories. Wipe them clean.”
“That is our last resort,” I said. “I only want to rely on that if we really have absolutely no other possible way out.”
Nea could work her magic on groups, but even then, wiping the memories of a whole crowd wasn’t an easy task, even for her. If she messed up, we could make things even worse for ourselves.
“That magic seems really handy, but it’s very situational,” I said.
“Don’t talk about my magic like that. Nobody tops me in terms of sheer variety! I can control the dead, control the living, bewitch, cast spells, and shapeshift! I spent three hundred years mastering three hexes!”
It was certainly more than me. I only had healing magic. But we didn’t need to control the living or the dead on this journey of ours. If someone saw us using Nea’s powers, the people would start to think that we’d controlled Samariarl’s leaders and made them accept our letter. As far as I was concerned, the only magic Nea had that was useful to us was her sorcery.
Which reminds me . . .
“Three hexes?” I asked. “I thought it was only the binding hex and the resistance hex. And you’re not good at either of them.”
“Why did you even say that last part?! But! You did notice something interesting!”
Nea looked supremely triumphant and proud of herself. A single hex often took a human a lifetime to master; she was making it known that three was an incredible achievement.
“The third hex is a hex that all sorcerers must master before any and all others,” she said with a giggle.
“Wow, then it really must be something special,” I said.
“And it is! My third hex is,” and here Nea paused for dramatic effect, her eyes alight with brimming confidence, “a release hex!”
“Oh,” I said. “Oh . . .”
Suddenly I wasn’t all that impressed. Nea seemed to notice my disappointment, and a little cry of rage escaped her.
“What the heck kind of a reaction is that?!” she demanded. “The release hex is a hugely important part of sorcery!”
“Well, it’s just, I don’t really get it,” I admitted.
I was surprised that the hex even existed in the first place, if I was being honest.
“Listen up, okay? Sorcery either dissipates based on a hex’s fundamental core, or its effects linger semi-permanently. It’s one or the other! That’s why the first thing you have to learn is how to release a hex!”
Ah, so that’s why the effects of the binding hex dissipated with time.
But if the binding hex was semi-permanent, I would have been bound until Nea released me. In that sense, the release hex really was important.
“And how long did it take to master the release hex?” I asked.
“Heh heh,” giggled Nea. “Of course, a human would ask that.”
Naturally, I was curious. If the hex took a long time to master, you wouldn’t have time to learn any other hexes at all. You’d die of old age.
Nea opened her wings in a wide, ostentatious gesture.
“Whoa!” I cried. “What are you doing?!”
“It took me only forty years!” Nea announced. “Which means I did it rather quickly! I’ve never used it on any complicated hexes, but I can release the effects of a simple hex in an instant!”
I guess for a monster with a long lifespan, forty years really was quick. But if a human started learning that hex from the moment they were born, they’d still be well into middle age by the time they mastered it. With that in mind, I had to wonder: Was it really worth mastering?
“And your release hex has its uses?” I asked.
“Of course it does! Sorcerers are everywhere, right? Those involved in sorcery wield dangerous tomes filled with curses and hexes. Mastering the release hex is essential for such threats!”
“Huh?” I uttered.
Sorcerers? Everywhere?
I tilted my head, puzzled, and looked over at Aruku, who shook his head with a wry grin. I looked back at Nea. She was proud of her hex because she believed that sorcery was used everywhere.
But actually . . .
“No way,” I whispered.
Nea doesn’t know that the practice of sorcery is essentially extinct now.
But it made sense. She’d spend her whole life in Ieva Village and her family manor. She would have thought of sorcery as rare, but nonetheless prevalent elsewhere. Revealing the truth to her was a cruel, unimaginable thing. It would be like telling her that she’d just wasted forty years of her life.
“Hey, Usato,” said Amako.
I stopped her before she could say anything more.
“Don’t say it,” I said. “Don’t you dare tell her. Look how happy she is.”
I glanced at the blissfully ignorant Nea, then turned away. I would never, ever tell her that sorcery was a lost art, and that her release hex had almost no practical use anymore. It was all the more painful for me because clearly this was the first time Nea had ever been able to brag about her achievement.
“So?” Nea said. “Pretty amazing, don’t you think?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Totally amazing.”
Please don’t look at me with that pride in your eyes. It just makes you pitiful.
“I know. I really do,” said Nea with a giggle. “But why won’t you look at me?”
I looked straight ahead as a huge walled city came into view. I counted my blessings and pointed at it.
“There it is!” I said.
Everyone turned to the direction I was pointing. Past the wall was a building that looked distinctly like a castle and a tower that stood just as tall.
“So that’s Samariarl,” I exclaimed.
It had been about two weeks since we’d left Luqvist. We’d run into a little trouble when we met Nea, but we were back on track, and now we had finally reached our destination.