Aodan

The jail is dark and grim. The Captain holds the only light, a lantern, in her hand. Unfinished stone encloses the room from floor to ceiling with no decoration, only a holder for a torch. It's as miserable as you can find in the land. I hear Kitaryn huff, and she shakes her head. My own heart clenches. It's not a place suitable for my mho-mattan–nor any elder for that matter.

Kitaryn dips her head to the Captain and my mho-mattan.“Sun’s greeting Captain Gesria, Mizz Barleyblossom, I hope you are well.”

The Captain bows back. My nose wrinkles at the pomp.

Mho-ma scowls. “The sun doesn’t reach here, girl. What do you want?”

To her credit, Kitaryn doesn't blink at the treatment. “I apologize, Madam. I believe my partner has overstepped his bounds. If you don’t mind, I will have a word with the Captain.”

I push past her. “Mho-mattan, are you alright? Were they rough with you?” A pile of cushions and blankets surrounds her, familiar from home. The family has already come by.

“No, they were fine. It is just ridiculous that I was brought here at all. Over what? Some old scraps of paper with a little recipe?”

I can hear Kitaryn asking the guard for specifics on what happened, and what charges were presented, exacting every detail. Probably making sure her orders were carried out to the letter.

“Mho-mattan, is there anything I can do for you? Do you need lights?”

“No, that’s where your mattan’s gone. Just get that girl to let me out of here. This is ridiculous. A magic potion? As if.”

The hair on my neck prickles with unease. If the charge sticks, she could be locked away for decades. For her, that very well could be the rest of her life. I would have to watch her waste away, cheeks drawing in, the interest in her eyes dulling. “Mho-mattan, this is serious.”

“So am I. It’s all invented.” She leans in, covering her mouth with a hand to whisper in my ear. For a moment, I fear she will confess. 

“I don’t know what you did to that girl, but you had better fix it so they’ll leave us country folk alone.”

A chill runs through me, though no winds reach the inside of the mountain. It’s my fault.  “I’m trying, Mho-ma.” Kitaryn has already refused my plea once. I will just have to grovel harder. After all, either my mho-mattan is really confused–she isn’t the type to play with magic–or Kitaryn has framed us. If we have been framed, my groveling is our only hope. “But one question: why did you refuse to give them the recipe? They came with a warrant.”

“What warrant? He waved some scrap of paper around and I was supposed to just hand him my only tie to my mho-atti?! It’s not like I could read the thing from all the way across the house! I told him he was rude and couldn’t have it. He said I had to or he would call in the Everguard. I said that wasn’t a way to treat his elders, and he called for the guard. I think that’s about the time that you walked in and took the letter away.” Her eyes flick beside me.

Kitaryn sighs from there, and I startle. I missed her approach. “It’s as I thought.” She says. “He technically informed you of the warrant when he showed it to you and asked for the recipe. When you refused to produce it, he then was allowed to search and seize ‘as deemed necessary at his discretion.’ Still, I think an argument can be made that it was neither necessary nor discreet. I apologize, madam.” Kitaryn pushes to her feet with a bow. “You have been treated roughly. I must see to your case now, but I am sure I will return here.”

An argument can be made. Does she think that’s comforting? “Where are you going now?” I stand to follow. I'm not sure whether to suspect more mischief, or if her interest is now passive while she watches to see how things play out.

The grim, thin-lipped expression she’d worn on the walk into the holding cells returns. She faces me, and then leans in close, too close. My breath catches as she whispers, “Listen, Aodan, I will only tell you this once: ask Plaensys at the office for form-342. Have your family file an official complaint on how the arrest happened by the end of tomorrow. It will help your chances.”

I barely hear her over the rush of my blood. When she steps away, my ear burns where her breath puffed against it. I stare after her as she dives out of the doorway. I glance around for the captain, unsure if she witnessed the conspiring whisper, only to find her gone.

I frown.

I will not be submitting any forms that she recommends.

“Kitaryn, where are you going?” I call down the hall after her. If she’s up to more mischief, I need to start begging and fast.

“To do my job, Aodan. Trom and Plaensys will have that recipe by now. I intend to be there when they inspect it. Otherwise, Trom will be the only one to interpret it.”

For the first time that afternoon, I doubt my accusations. What if she didn’t do this? I may have accused the wrong clerk of Tradition. “Wait!” I call. But she's gone.

“Well? Hurry up and go after her!” Mho-ma urges me. “I can’t do it.”

I grimace. The way things are going, I'll only make it worse by following her now. “Sorry, Mho-ma. It...” might not be about me. But staring at my grandmother, with long shadows in her cheeks drawn by the dim and a fiery determination in her eyes, I can see both her age and her willfulness. She has not practiced magic. “It might make things worse if I follow her now.”

“Well, then you had best get back to the fields and dream up how to fix it.” Her scolding is softened by the gleam of affection in her eyes. 

I crouch in front of her one more time, bowing my head. “I’m sorry, truly. I’ll do my best to sort this so you don't have to stay here.” I reach one hand out to her, palm up. "I promise."