The warchief didn’t sound like someone to cross, which made sense, but only made Jigano more worried for his friends. He held on to the hope that they were, at least, still alive, and so long as they were alive there would be a way to help them.
But to do that, he needed allies, not enemies, and so he answered Eliza’s question as best he could. It was so very broad that he struggled to find a definition that would suffice. Who he was now was inextricably linked with who had been, his present and future shaped by his past. Another time he might have spun a more coherent story, emphasized the lighter elements and peppered the telling with sly anecdotes, but his worry over his friends had him speaking more emotionally and with less control, plucking out the parts he thought most important or that struck the strongest chords and offering them to her that was part answer to her question, and part plea for her understanding.
And perhaps both were successful, in their own way. He could tell from the way she looked away from him that he had touched something she knew, and he felt a bubble of relief to know that the Fae, however harsh their warchief, still had families that they cared for, no less than humans did. All was not lost, if he could appeal to their leaders for leniency then—
Her answer was abrupt, but it felt more forthright than cruel. She did not seem to take any pleasure from taking that hope from him, but she did not let him cling to it uselessly either. He bowed his head, exhaling a sigh of pain at hearing it, and he did not immediately expect her to continue. He was lost in his own thoughts, even as she focused on her own. He was trying to find a way to move forward, find some hint of what he could ask that would help his friends, his sister, and when she spoke again it took a moment for him to focus himself back on their conversation.
”The… tulm—?“ He bit his tongue before the out-of-turn question could slip entirely free. She had said the odds were low… but not impossible. He clung to that as she formed her next question, and once again she took him by surprise. His eyes widened at what she offered – well, hypothetically. If they had met under better circumstances his eyes would have been sparkling at the chance to delve into a new library. A tired smile was all he could manage, though he did shift to sit up a little straighter, his lorekeeper’s soul strengthened at the thought of such a place.
”That is not an easy question to answer without knowing what I would learn,” he admitted slowly. ”Though it would be a great gift. On my world I was an Oracle of Lore, a seeker of it… and a keeper of it. Part of that is knowing when certain knowledge should not or must not be shared, and keeping the secrets of those that ask it of me.” As Ludo had entrusted him with a secret, once, and he bore the sacred trust of that with dignity. ”If you were to share that with me, I would pass along only what you were willing to have known to those outside the Greatwood. If there were things that would improve the lives of those who reside here, for instance, I would ask to bring that information back to help those who live within here. Medical knowledge and medicines, knowledge of dangerous plants or animals that might now cross into this weakened world, improvements in ways of building or farming… learning what has happened on greater Caido since the people here were shut away from it three hundred years ago,” he explained with a slight shrug, lips quirking wryly. ”Proper ways of worshipping the Old Gods we have been shut away from for so long. Laws and traditions of the Fae that should not be broken, and hopefully will not be, if the people here are no longer ignorant of them.” The last, in particular, he wished desperately that they had known of before their ill-fated excursion into the Greatwood.
Tilting his head at Eliza he studied her tension, her anxiety over the possibility of taking him someplace he was doubtless forbidden. It was a courageous thing to even consider, and he promised himself that if she did so, he would show her the Atheneum in return and offer her whatever help she wanted in learning about his own adopted people.
But that assumed he would survive to do so.
”Eliza… what does it mean, ‘to be given to the tulmhainar?’” he asked quietly. ”That is a word I haven’t come across within the barrier before.”
But to do that, he needed allies, not enemies, and so he answered Eliza’s question as best he could. It was so very broad that he struggled to find a definition that would suffice. Who he was now was inextricably linked with who had been, his present and future shaped by his past. Another time he might have spun a more coherent story, emphasized the lighter elements and peppered the telling with sly anecdotes, but his worry over his friends had him speaking more emotionally and with less control, plucking out the parts he thought most important or that struck the strongest chords and offering them to her that was part answer to her question, and part plea for her understanding.
And perhaps both were successful, in their own way. He could tell from the way she looked away from him that he had touched something she knew, and he felt a bubble of relief to know that the Fae, however harsh their warchief, still had families that they cared for, no less than humans did. All was not lost, if he could appeal to their leaders for leniency then—
Her answer was abrupt, but it felt more forthright than cruel. She did not seem to take any pleasure from taking that hope from him, but she did not let him cling to it uselessly either. He bowed his head, exhaling a sigh of pain at hearing it, and he did not immediately expect her to continue. He was lost in his own thoughts, even as she focused on her own. He was trying to find a way to move forward, find some hint of what he could ask that would help his friends, his sister, and when she spoke again it took a moment for him to focus himself back on their conversation.
”The… tulm—?“ He bit his tongue before the out-of-turn question could slip entirely free. She had said the odds were low… but not impossible. He clung to that as she formed her next question, and once again she took him by surprise. His eyes widened at what she offered – well, hypothetically. If they had met under better circumstances his eyes would have been sparkling at the chance to delve into a new library. A tired smile was all he could manage, though he did shift to sit up a little straighter, his lorekeeper’s soul strengthened at the thought of such a place.
”That is not an easy question to answer without knowing what I would learn,” he admitted slowly. ”Though it would be a great gift. On my world I was an Oracle of Lore, a seeker of it… and a keeper of it. Part of that is knowing when certain knowledge should not or must not be shared, and keeping the secrets of those that ask it of me.” As Ludo had entrusted him with a secret, once, and he bore the sacred trust of that with dignity. ”If you were to share that with me, I would pass along only what you were willing to have known to those outside the Greatwood. If there were things that would improve the lives of those who reside here, for instance, I would ask to bring that information back to help those who live within here. Medical knowledge and medicines, knowledge of dangerous plants or animals that might now cross into this weakened world, improvements in ways of building or farming… learning what has happened on greater Caido since the people here were shut away from it three hundred years ago,” he explained with a slight shrug, lips quirking wryly. ”Proper ways of worshipping the Old Gods we have been shut away from for so long. Laws and traditions of the Fae that should not be broken, and hopefully will not be, if the people here are no longer ignorant of them.” The last, in particular, he wished desperately that they had known of before their ill-fated excursion into the Greatwood.
Tilting his head at Eliza he studied her tension, her anxiety over the possibility of taking him someplace he was doubtless forbidden. It was a courageous thing to even consider, and he promised himself that if she did so, he would show her the Atheneum in return and offer her whatever help she wanted in learning about his own adopted people.
But that assumed he would survive to do so.
”Eliza… what does it mean, ‘to be given to the tulmhainar?’” he asked quietly. ”That is a word I haven’t come across within the barrier before.”
