Summer 4, AV 512
The light of the coming dawn illuminated the front porch of Elem's father's cobbler. He knew once the light broke through the front that his father would be up, preparing for the day. His mother was surely still sleeping. His eyes grew misty at the thought of her peaceful countenance. So many words he wanted to say or write, but he knew if he gave them the opportunity to fight his decision, they might very well win. The teary sensation only exacerbated his fatigue, having been up all night packing his belongings, which now awaited him in a caravan prepared to leave for Syliras in a few hours. he had given himself just enough time to finalize things and be gone. He would write them a letter once he got somewhere stable.
Stable. What a state. Six months ago he was nothing but, head in a book and eyes completely closed. What a great change that had occurred. His steps took him toward the University, which was all but restored since the dreadful events of the Spring storm. Anxiety fluttered through his chest like a summer storm as he quietly entered the place that had been more home to him than anywhere as of late. The Infirmary. He smiled at patients as best he could, a veil of clammy sweat beginning to rise on his brow. He suspected Claira would protest, and that was fine. He certainly didn't want to disappoint her, though.
She was at her desk in her office, going over some papers that lay before her. He knocked softly on the threshold. "Mistress? May I have a word?" In her usual boisterous fashion, without looking up she replied, "You already did. Come in, Bree." He swallowed hard and entered, taking a seat before her. She looked up at him and he forced himself to keep his gaze on her own, though he wanted only to look at the floor.
"I'd say you were coming down with something, but that could not be the case, correct?" She placed her hands folded on the desk, her features softening as much as he recalled them ever doing, which helped somewhat. " I assume you have come for your wages? You needn't worry so. I know you were hired on as an assistant, but considering the events that transpired at the Ball, well..." She reached down and the sound of a drawer sliding open roughly followed. She produced a large sack, its resounding thud echoing against the wood as she sat it before him. " I gave you healer wages. It's the least I could do for your efforts this Spring. I suspect you will need them, wherever it is you are going."
Elem's face rose like the Obelisks. He reached forth and took the sack, its weight surprising. Looking inside he came to find several hundred gold rimmed Mizas inside. The slight trace of a smarmy grin crossed Claira's face. "Surely you don't believe that I would be unaware that you are going somewhere? I keep tabs on my students, especially valuable ones. I am sure you are worth more than that sack, but that is all I am able to do for you."
This did not help with the staving of tears. His lips trembled as a lone tear slid down his cheek. "I'm sorry, Mistress. The toll of the storm was just so much to bear. I know some of the others are made of stronger stuff." He wiped his cheek and looked at her with fresh, wet eyes. " Before Rak'keli came into my life, I had no understanding of Her. I thought Her an obstacle to the science of medicine. I was a fool. I want to understand Her more and while I can certainly do that here, rumors tell of other places in the world that were hit as hard or harder by the storm. My heart tells me to go."
"And go you shall, with my blessing, Elem Bree. I trust you have spoken to your parents?" His face dropped a bit.
"No, I know my mother would want me to stay close. I would have a very hard time leaving if I spoke to her. Do you think you could...?" Claira nodded to him. "Of course, Elem. Do what you must. Just promise me that you will return someday to let us know how it all turned out?" He was already standing from his chair, his eyes open streams now. He knew she wished him well, but he felt guilt weighing on him for passing the responsibility off on his mentor.
"Of course, Mistress Claira." His voice was a whisper of its usual tone. Tying the sack, he reached into the pocket of his breeches, a carefully folded piece of paper revealed. He placed it on the desk before Claira. It simply said Nira'lia on its outer fold. "Could you wait a week or so and give this to her?" Claira's practiced hand slid the letter beneath her other papers.
"Consider it done, Elem. Good luck on your journeys."