1.05
Almost a week passed, and Jeorr barely heard or saw any sign of his ward. Not that he had much of a chance, holed up in his workshop. The only reason he knew Carnelia wasn’t lying injured in the totem garden was because he’d hear her tired footsteps echoing throughout the house as she stumbled back to bed every night. The rest of the day, he’d spend both hoping for and fearing her early return, because it would either mean that she had given up, which was highly unlikely, or that she had succeeded, which he selfishly hoped wouldn’t happen.
To the detriment of his hairline, neither outcome occurred. For six straight mornings, Carnelia headed out at the break of mist every day to face her rite of passage, and for six straight nights, she returned home at the chill of nightfall. And during that whole time, Jeorr successfully kept himself busy by mangling dozens of his sculptures. Really just mashing them to bits.
But on the seventh and last day, something finally lured Jeorr out of his cave.
It started as a dull buzz, a low tickle in his ear--a sensation so imperceptible that it was hardly worth noticing. In any other place in the world, in any other time of his life, Jeorr would’ve chalked it up to the noise of some passing fly and gone on with his day. But this was Downtown. There were very few bugs to be found around these parts.
The noise, ever subtle, slipped between his strikes, poked and prodded him as he looked over designs. It ate away at him, itching inside his ear until it was all he could hear. But when he looked for it, it vanished. It ducked beneath the door, squeezed behind the window shutters, and hid inside the vents. It seemed to be coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Eventually, Jeorr couldn’t take it anymore. He dropped his tools and stepped outside for some ‘fresh air’, only, when he did, he was greeted by that same noise, but at a greater volume. That’s when he recognized it.
It was the buzz of people.
Every busy city and bustling market across the world had this noise; when overlapping laughter, fragments of conversation, and sounds of people moving and shifting about, all mixed and blended until they became one fuzzy, lively frequency. It shocked Jeorr to hear it here in Downtown, in this town of endless echoes, where people learned to walk without a sound to avoid the ire of their neighbors.
His curiosity was piqued. Jeorr stepped out into the carved stone streets of Downtown to find what was what.
The town was emptier than usual. Certainly, Downtown was never a spectacular hub of commerce, but what few storefronts there were were shuttered, and most of the homes he passed were dark and empty. There wasn’t even the usual group of judgmental old folk gathered on a street corner, whispering gossip and shooting sidelong glances at passersby. Without its inhabitants, the underground town was about as homely as an abandoned graveyard.
Whatever was going on, the noise was his only trail. So he followed it by slightly-deaf ear, the noise growing louder with each step he took toward the center of town. It grew and grew until he rounded one last corner and was washed over with a wave of sound.
In front of him, the street was crammed with a crowd of excited geriatrics. And past their balding, greying heads, in the distance…
…Carnelia was holding onto the Blazebright totem for dear life.
Jeorr shook his head wryly. Of course, she was behind this commotion. She always was.
Apparently, the whole town had shown up to watch Carnelia’s climb. They were making a day of it, too. They sat on picnic blankets and fold-up chairs, nibbling on expensive imported cheeses and drinking homemade wines whilst they shouted, cheered, and jeered at Carnelia. Mostly cheering, but some couldn’t resist the age-old pleasure of shouting unasked-for advice to youths.
“Use your fingers! Your fingers!”
As if she wasn’t already. Jeorr was making his way through to the front of the crowd when a particularly belligerent drunk made his presence known to everyone within earshot. The woman waved her arms, thick as hams, and hollered for Carnelia’s attention.
“Hey, girlie! Your old man is here! Try not to let those dainty hands slip, eh?”
Jeorr stopped in the middle of the street as everyone turned to look at him. Carnelia froze too, meeting his eyes from a street-length away.
Unfortunately, clinging part-way up a slippery pillar with a stone nearly a third of her weight strapped to her back was no time for Carnelia to get distracted. Jeorr’s heart skipped a beat as his ward slipped, falling out of view behind a crowd of old people. He heard a dull thump a moment later.
Fearing the worst, Jeorr shoved his way through the crowd. By the time he broke through to the front, though, Carnelia was already back on her feet. Everyone cheered as she dusted herself off and flexed to show she was all right.
As Jeorr let out a breath, a voice chided him from his side.
“It’s a little late to be worrying about her, Jeorr. That’s what, only the tenth time she’s fallen today?”
Jeorr turned to find Miss Eleina standing there with her arms on her hips and an eyebrow arched quite judgmentally high. At her side, little Opal stared after Carnelia with wide-eyed worry, hands clutched over his heart.
“What are you doing here?” Jeorr replied, immediately defensive. He nodded at the fearful boy. “Isn’t it still school hours?”
“Field trip,” Miss Eleina easily countered. “What about you? Got a little lonely in your workshop?”
Jeorr flushed at her mocking tone. But instead of responding, he turned his attention back to his priority, Carnelia. Their eyes met again, this time with both party’s feet on the ground.
She took a step forward with a hand ready to wave hello.
He crossed his arms and shook his head.
She stopped, set her jaw, then nodded.
Yes. This was how it should be. No words were needed between them. She knew, and he knew, that this was her challenge; for her to defeat alone. Even if he wanted to help, this was not the time or place. After all, if she couldn’t handle this, there was no way she was ready for the Challen--
“Not a single word of encouragement, you horse’s ass?”
Miss Eleina’s whisper interrupted his very important rationalizations. He shot back.
“Shut up, Eleina. This is serious.”
“Oh yes, so very serious. Better watch out, or someone might mistake you for those statues you so love to make.”
Jeorr frowned, shaking his head. He knew Lily was just teasing him, but she didn’t get it. This wasn’t about being nice, or kind. This was about--
Well. It didn’t matter if his friend understood. It only mattered that Carnelia did. And from the sudden intensity with which his ward returned to her challenge…
…he was sure she realized the stakes.