48. The Houses of Healing (1/2)

our story so far: sin is defeated, its occupant freed... but being sin for thirteen years is not something one can throw off in a day.

a day in st. bevelle began with the ringing of many bells from the city heights — yet too few, with gaps of silence when the tower of light should have boomed forth. a chilly marine fog seeped between panes and under doors. auron and lulu rose and dressed in silence, exchanging ironic looks as the mage bundled herself into the bulky robes of a novice nun. as the last peals died away, they slipped out, threading corridors where tardy acolytes scampered towards chapel. those few who made eye contact were too tongue-tied by the sight of the famous guardian and his severe companion to offer more than a reverent bow. none noticed that yevon's prayer was not returned.

outside, the gardens were cold, foggy and uninviting. a glimmer to the east showed where the sun would burn through. dew lay heavy on leaf and stone. above, invisible gulls wheeled and keened. lulu halted at the edge of the grass and

eathed in. earth, flowers, herbs, and the homely scents of cooking from the refectory blended with the smell of the sea. auron waited. a

uptly she bent and removed her slippers, pressing her toes into the wet earth. loose hair flying behind her, she strode swiftly out onto the close-cropped lawn, wetting the hem of her gown, walking the concentric circles between beds of flowers and herbs. auron followed more slowly, marching towards the fountain as she wandered aimlessly here and there, touching plants as she passed. a mental image came to auron as he watched: her dream-bower, an infinite cage, more verdant yet utterly barren for all its fruits and flowers, a cloister of trials with no terminus for a failed guardian to pace for years without end.

at last she reached him, turning away from the fountain and gazing back at their footprints marching in parallel across the dew-silvered grass.

"well, that hasn't changed, at least," lulu said.

"no." auron was watching her feet, not the ground. she had stumbled while crossing the lawn. unimportant, perhaps, but she had always been so sure-footed on their travels, inexplicably elsewhere whenever a foe's claw, fist or wing-tip swept towards her.

"what?" she said, noticing his scrutiny.

he shrugged, diverting her attention back to the garden with a nod. "hardly up to your standards."

"it's real, you mean?" her fingers fluttered towards the stumps of a freshly-pruned rosebush. "but i think i know how it feels." the motion turned into an upswept gesture that he should have recognized sooner. "catch."

he had only begun to move when the ice-spur nicked his ear. rumbling, he stepped forward and caught her wrist, nodding down at the small white flowers underfoot.

they moved to the empty lawn before the fountain, amusing themselves with old drills. she cast. he parried. auron had to take care on his follow-through, checking swings that nearly clouted her. suspicions confirmed: her judgment of close distances was a little suspect, or else she was having to relearn the boundaries of her own body. to judge by her prim frown, she knew it. she would not stop dueling even when a stray chunk of ice struck yuna's statue and deflected the fountain's spray, drenching both of them. auron's whirling blade moved faster as her footwork became more confident. melting ice crunched underfoot, and the ground around the fountain was growing muddy. now and then a monk or nun, cutting through the cloister on errands, gave them an agitated look and a wide berth. at last the abbot himself emerged and made a beeline towards them. auron touched lulu's arm and straightened, planting his sword.

"father zuke." lulu's hands made an abortive gesture, and she settled for folding her arms.

"good morning," zuke said, bowing. "i trust you both rested well? i missed you at morning prayers."

"very well, father," said lulu, averting her gaze from auron's too-complacent expression.

"excellent. is there anything you need?"

lulu passed a look towards auron. "no, we are content."

"anything you wish, then?" zuke said. auron had the impression that the old priest was fishing for something, for all that his manner was unpressing.

"i'd like to take up your offer of healing lessons, when you have the time."

he pursed his lips, considering. "my time is never my own, my dear, therefore, my time is yours. you are, after all, my second-best student."

"second-best?" she said over auron's hmph.

"isaaru learned all that i know. you had your own notions of what mattered." zuke's eyes twinkled. "so. shall we remove to my office, to avoid interruptions? sir auron, would you like to observe?"

auron shook his head. "don't overdo it," he told lulu.

"don't coddle."

as she stepped onto the paved colonnade surrounding the cloister, lulu's feet nearly went out from under her on the slick flagstones. the priest looked down. his

ows jerked upwards at the sight of her toes and heels plastered with mud and bits of grass. "i'm surprised to be telling you, of all people, to wipe your feet."

the mage laughed, an unrepentant sound that rippled across the cloisters. she dashed away the dirt with a water spell and followed him inside.

auron took up his sword again and smiled.

lessons were served over zuke's excellent herbal tea. lulu warmed her hands with the clay cup, listening with eyes, ears and shoulders. absently, she stirred the steaming liquid with a fingertip capped in ice, taking small sips.

zuke faced her earnestly across the desk, gnarled hands steepled on a nest of papers. "curing magic is most like watera, the inviting, the offering, the opening of channels to old rains that air and soil remember. a white mage cannot forceflesh to heal, bone to knit. you must rouse it, remind it of its proper form and shape. you must gather the energies of pyrefly-essence and with them— lulu?"

her scowl was a thunderstorm, fierce, bitter. "pyreflies," she said. "that i can do."

"can you, now." he paused to shuffle scrolls and parchment, clearing away the space between them. she drained her cup slowly, ignoring the dangling interrogative. zuke shook his head slightly and continued. "but life-energies are stronger than pyreflies, which can only reflect, sustain and magnify. and yet life is weaker— or rather, more delicate— than the elemental forces that you command. for you tap time: you summon all the lightning strikes, all the rains, every frost, every wildfire whose memory is stored in the air and soil around you. whereas life–"

"it is ephemeral," she interrupted, "but surely, the power of life is everywhere too, for most matter in spira has been part of living flesh at some time."

"yes. i think that may go a long way to explaining how pyreflies build the bodies of fiends. but each life is unique, and you can't graft one to another."

"no." she set the cup down with a sharp clank, sloshing out the last few drops. "no, wecan't."

again, the crease-lines of care around his eyes deepened. he paused to refill her cup, setting it aside with his to cool. "so," he said, "we must use pyreflies to cradle and concentrate one life's frail pulse, as one shields and blows gently to nurture a spark into a blaze. white magic requires a gentle touch, supporting rather than directing. do you understand?"

"i think so." she refocused on him with a hint of warmth. "i've watched you and yuna do it often enough."

"hem, yes." he looked pained but pleased. "well, then. let's try a simple exercise." propping his elbows, he raised his hands, palms facing her. "now, i'd like you to close your eyes and try to

ing your hands as close to mine as you can without touching. the first step to healing magic is body-awareness, not of your own flesh, but of another's."

"like fayth and aeon," she murmured, leaning forward to mirror him.

he gave her a keen look. "how so?"

again, the mage said nothing, closing her eyes and flexing her long fingers like a musician sizing up a strange instrument. then she stilled. zuke waited, nodding mute encouragement as she sought for unseen currents. a minute passed. finally she began to edge towards him, reaching, swaying slowly from side to side as she probed, stalking with spread fingertips. the old man kept silent, watching her painstaking progress with a nonjudgmental eye. at length, she halted with their hands a span's

eadth apart. her eyes opened. the mage puffed her cheeks in disdain, eyeing the gap.

zuke smiled and raised a finger, motioning for her to return to her starting point. she nodded and tried again.

after a dozen attempts, she finished with their mirrored hands almost touching, barely offset. one of her fingers twitched, catching his skin with a nail. she cursed.

"no, that's good," he said, dropping his hands to his sides and shaking them out. "that's enough. impressive, for one more attuned to non-living forces." he reached for his cup. "now i think we should heed sir auron's counsel and call this a promising start."

"a start," lulu said, frowning. "forgive me, father, but i am in some haste. i realize that learning happens slowly, but—"

"lulu." the loving respect in his tone nearly disarmed his words' sting. "you cannot be trying to outflank another summoner."

"no." her face clouded. "or rather— no. she is young. she does not yet know what she yearns for. no, sir auron and i have another errand. there are relics left in zanarkand which should not be left for curious adventurers to find. it's best that we... deal with them. soon."

"i see." sorrow, questions and protests furrowed the fan-lines around his eyes, but he banished them with another easygoing smile. "i could loan you a healer, you know. doddering summoners aside, there are many capable youngsters who would consider it an honor."

"and none i would risk."

"in that, you have not changed, my friend." he pondered, then stood and moved to a cabinet, drawing out a blue swirling sphere on a squat metal stand. "very well. let's proceed to a training sphere. it is easier to demonstrate on a real wound, or rather, on its simulacrum." returning to his chair, he placed the artifact on the table between them and settled his hands around the sphere's lower half. "as i recall, you were always more relaxed when you need not fear casualties from a stray bolt." his

ow furrowed. "although relaxedis not quite the word. more focused, rather."

she placed her fingers across the top. "i just didn't like anyone to see my failures, as well you know."

his eyes crinkled at her candor. "you havemellowed."

the cramped, dim office dissolved around them. the rug was replaced by an infinite plane of hard-packed gray earth, scored with a faint grid. walls vanished, yielding to an infinite horizon. what passed for sky was a mottled, diffuse haze the color of ash. zuke arrived first and stood waiting. lulu tumbled into view with less than her usual poise, pyreflies eddying up from her feet like dust-motes.

he took a half-step towards her. "lulu?"

her form remained insubstantial, revealing the horizon through the shadow of her body. her pale shoulders and face formed a white triangle, defined by a low neckline and the slant of dark hair that fell across one eye. the shapeless white robes of bevelle had been replaced by an elegant black gown, once tailored, now tattered. the belts that comprised its skirt flowed out in a sweeping train that blurred into vines and creepers. the ground itself had changed in her vicinity, resolving into sand, rocks, and splintered bones. pyreflies danced around her like drunken stars.

"lulu!"

seeing his face knitted in dismay, she looked down, flung her arms up as if to ward off the pyreflies, and blinked out.

zuke backed out of the dream-space almost as hastily, jostling the sphere off its base. the reassuring normality of his bare priest's cell rematerialized around them. he made a grab to keep the sphere from rolling off, then raised his eyes to find lulu seated across from him. the white novitiate's gown was unchanged, and her fingers were clenched around the edge of the desk with reassuring solidity. zuke sagged in his chair, struggling to hold his voice level. "steady, lulu. ground and center."

"it's all right." she straightened,

east rising and falling in repressed heaves for some seconds before she mastered herself and folded her hands in her lap. "i'm sorry, father. i didn't realize i was so rusty. let's try that again."

"again?" he stared. "i think not, my stubborn friend."

her mouth turned down. "i said i'm fine. i just need to focus."

"no, lulu. this experiment has gone far enough." he gathered up the sphere and set it on the window-ledge behind him, ignoring her swelling indignation. "i must commend your determination. but you are not yet recovered, and even if you were, this was a rash thing to try. i have no business taking an untethered fayth into the training realm."

her eyes flashed. there was a long, crackling silence before her chin dipped in grudging acknowledgment. "you know?"

"not at all; i'm quite agog with ignorance." he gave a mirthless huff of laughter. "but i fear i can guess what, or rather, whom, isaaru meant yesterday, when he declared that 'sin's unwilling fayth' has been freed." zuke flapped a hand a

uptly. "drink your tea."

mechanically, she reached for the earthen cup and began to take it in small sips. "i'm not... untethered," lulu said finally. "it... i..." she gestured at herself, a slashing motion that dismissed what it indicated. "there's no statue to house the fayth of the final summoning, father. just flesh and bone. mine. sir jecht's. lady lilith's. and all the other guardians who accompanied their summoners to the very end."

"the fayth of the final summoning?" he said, and stopped. horror dawned slowly in his old eyes. "a guardian's soul? dear yevon, you mean to say that—"

lulu exploded out of her chair, slamming her hands against the table. "yevon made... me... sin!" her cup burst before it hit the floor.

zuke recoiled. the room felt suddenly hot and dry. the mage's form seem to flicker again, or perhaps a bird had just flown past the window, cutting through the sunlight. high, sharp cries seem to come from a great distance, gulls or human voices distorted by the thickening air. lulu's hair lifted from her shoulders as if from static electricity.

steeling himself, the priest reached across the desk, laying his papery hands across hers. her fingers were too warm, her nails uncomfortably so. "lulu. daughter." his voice

oke on that one word. "whatever happened, you are not sin now."