Arrival
Notes:
Nia POV again!!!
*****
The carriage from Lamendron only went past Glipwood, not through it, but it was a small town, so Nia didn’t begrudge the driver. Besides, there was a wagon with an occupant just a short walk away from where she and her bags had been dropped off. Hopefully, she could manage to get a ride out of them. They weren’t that far from Glipwood, but farther than she would prefer to walk with luggage.
As she drew nearer the wagon, she realized the driver had gotten out and begun walking toward her. Brief wariness fluttered into her heart instantly. The driver might be dangerous, an enemy, a thief.
His utterance, “Nia Igiby? Is that you?!” quickly dispelled those thoughts.
“Joe Shooster!” Nia called, a smile spreading across her face. “Isn’t it a pleasure to see you.”
Joe it was, and, like a gentleman, he took her bags and loaded them into his wagon, then helped her up into the front seat and drove toward town. “I’m a little surprised you came,” he said after absolutely no time of silence. “Addie and I took up bets as to whether you’d show up or not. Seems I lost. No matter, penalty might’ve been me doing her dustin’ chores, but I guarantee she won’t let me.”
Nia managed a bit of a laugh. “Joe, all of us women know all of you men have no idea how to dust properly. But how is Janner?”
Joe didn’t respond immediately. Nia took the opportunity to look around, and couldn’t help but catch sight of the plot where Jebsun’s old practice had been, at least before the Fangs burned it to the ground.
“Nia, Addie’ll be the best one to explain it to you, alright? I’m just the driver. And the one who’s supposed to find out how you’re doing. How’s the snow in Anniera?”
Pursing her lips, Nia looked out at the town before she answered. It was differently, a taller, sad sort of different. A number of the old buildings had been rebuilt with second stories, but the sadness of the quickly approaching winter shrouded them in greys. There had quite obviously been no snow. She hoped a snowfall would remedy the error and send children out into the streets, squealing with delight. “We hadn’t gotten any before I left, but we likely have now.
Leeli and my niece, Ilana, have probably almost frozen themselves a few times over. I almost feel bad leaving my sister-in-law to corral them.” She did feel bad leaving Arundelle in charge.
“Well, that sounds lovely,” Joe said, almost wistfully. “I’m looking forward to snow, hoping we get at least one good fall this year. Sometimes, I have a bit o’ trouble dragging Addie out and building a snowman with me, but I always win in the end.”
Nia found herself laughing as Joe stopped outside the Only Inn, which looked wonderfully familiar and the same as it always had. She hopped down before Joe could help her, though he did pass her the bags.
“I’ve gotta put Trizzy and the wagon away, but just step right in, Nia. There’s no need to knock.”
He nodded at her politely, then turned Trizzy and the wagon around and headed off.
Taking a breath, Nia made herself walk to the front door of the Only Inn. Despite Joe’s offer, she wanted to knock anyway, but she barely had time to raise her hand when the door opened.
“Nia?” Addie Shooster asked, beaming. “What are you doing here?”
Laughing lightly, Nia shifted her bag from one hand to the other. “I’m here to see my son, Addie.”
“Of course, as I told Joe. He drove you over, yes? Wonderful,” Addie said with a smile. “I want to prepare you a bit, though, alright? Let me take your bag,” —she said as she took Nia’s bag, ignoring her quiet protest— “and please, come inside.”
A few minutes later, she was in Addie’s sitting room, holding a cup of steaming hot tea. It was odd being there, a good sort of odd, a nostalgic kind of odd one gets when one hasn’t visited a lovely, safe place in quite a long time.
“You wanted to prepare me?” she asked, wanting to wait as little time as possible before seeing Janner.
Addie took a sip of her tea, then nodded. “Yes, and I still do. He’s not doing well right now, Nia, neither in body nor in mind.”
Nia set down her teacup sharply in response to the latter comment. She hadn’t expected Janner to be doing well physically; it was winter, of course illness was going to be wreaking havoc. But his mind? That was what worried her. “Addie, do you mean to tell me my son is mad?’ she needed the answer to be no, but she wasn’t counting on it.
Shaking her head quickly, Addie did her best to remedy the situation. “He’s not like Peet was, Nia. Janner has his wits about him. But he’s very quiet and he has dreadful nightmares, and he’ll wake up screaming and coughing from them.
More is going on than we can see, though I think we’ve all always known that. He won’t tell anyone what’s haunting him, though.”
Nia nodded. So nothing had changed much in the past six weeks. It wasn’t all that different from what Sara had said in her letter, but that didn’t stop her stomach from clenching in worry. “So, Addie,” she finally said, perhaps a little stiffly. “Where is he?”
“He’s directly across the street, with Jebsun,” Addie replied, smiling faintly. “The door to his practice isn’t locked; you can go right in. Sara or Artham’s probably with him.”
“Is that it?” Nia asked, the threads of impatience in her voice becoming more noticeable. She didn’t want Addie to hear them; it wasn’t polite, but at this point, she couldn’t do anything about it. Both Shoosters had succeeded in stalling her (sort of), and though it was valuable stalling she was willing to accept, any sort of stalling was still frustrating.
Addie dipped her head affirmatively. “Yes, dear. I’m going to take your bag up to your room, alright?”
In less than a few seconds, Addie had retrieved her bag and begun heading upstairs, to which Nia protested, stating she didn’t have a room quite yet; she hadn’t brought the idea up, nor had she paid for one.
Addie laughed a little. “We’ll take care of that later, dearie. Maybe you’ll board with Sara? Just go visit your son and let me an’ Joe worry about what happens here.”
Torn between a desire to set things right with the Inn and spending time with Janner, Nia floundered for a moment—but just a moment—before she started for Jebsun’s practice, thinking about how absolutely miffed Artham would be that she had come and looking forward to not caring a whit.
Crossing the street, she headed toward the two-story building next to what was once Books and Crannies, and was now simply The Bookstore. As she pushed the door open, wincing a bit at the sharp sound of the bell, she couldn’t help but think the former name and owner were far better than the current. That reminded her of the letter Oskar had written to Janner; she had left it with her bags because it wasn’t the sort of thing one gave someone during the first-in-quite-a-while interaction—besides, Janner might very well be sleeping—but she made a note to give it to him later.
The chilly air she had let into Jebsun’s practice was quickly dispelled by the warmth of the room she couldn’t help but gaze at in curiosity, with counters and shelves all filled with jars of different colored powders and leaves, the ceiling sporting upside-down drying herbs and flowers of all colors. She recognized some of them—sleeping flower, urathym, osier, dandie, ash cap, and many others—but was even more amazed by the number she didn’t recognize.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, is there anything I can—” Jebsun stopped mid-sentence, about the same time Nia stopped looking at the ceiling and directed her gaze toward him.
She smiled at him. At least in terms of his appearance, he hadn’t changed all that much in five years. She knew she had. “It looks quite a bit like your old practice,” she said when he still hadn’t said a word. “Perhaps more crowded since it’s a larger space, but very nearly the same.”
Jebsun cleared his throat and finally spoke. “I…tend to keep my set up the same wherever I go. It just makes finding things easier.” He stopped speaking again and his hands made awkward gestures, as if he was trying to speak with them, but no words came. Finally, he clasped them behind his back and began again. “Um…you’re here! I didn’t think you’d actually come, though for Janner’s sake, I hoped you would, but it seemed unlikely.”
Nia nodded, doing her best not to smile. This wasn’t the time for smiling, even if Jebsun had successfully coerced her into the temptation of doing so. “It was a culmination of everyone except Janner telling me they thought he would do better if I was here with him, and the deciding factor was Janner’s insistence he was fine.”
“Somehow, I’m not all that surprised he wrote such a thing,” Jebsun replied dejectedly. “Disappointed, perhaps, but not surprised. Do you want to see him now, though? Artham’s with him; Sara’s at the bookstore.”
Nodding, Nia followed Jebsun through the cluttered front room of his practice and into a hall hidden by a door, directly opposite the front entrance of his practice. Light slipped out from the crack underneath the first door on her right, and it was to this that Jebsun gestured toward.
“Thank you,” Nia whispered.
Jebsun simply smiled, bowed a little, and disappeared into the front of his practice again.
Nia placed her hand on the doorknob and breathed in slowly. It was just like past few winters in which Janner became sick and spent so much time feeling miserable or lousy, she told herself. It was no different than any other time, there was no need for her to be nervous or scared or worried that…that Janner wouldn’t really be there.
Except that it wasn’t like the past few winters. The past few winters hadn’t been proceeded by kidnappings and torture and heartbreak and grief and terror. The past few winters hadn’t nearly destroyed her son. The past few winters hadn’t broken him.
Breathing out and turning the knob, Nia slipped into the room, only to see Artham, sitting in an armchair, reading, blocking her line of sight. It wasn’t until she cleared her throat that he turned around, and when he did, the look on his face was priceless.
“Nia?” he finally managed incredulously, standing, his book tumbling to the floor. “What are you doing here?”
She had been asked that or something similar far too many times that day. “What do you think, Artham? I’m here to be with my son,” she whispered, rushing forward and falling to her knees by Janner’s bedside. She cupped his thin, hot, pale—oh, so heartbreakingly pale—cheek in her hand. “Sweetie, I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. I love you, I promise, I love you,” she whispered, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her. That didn’t matter. She would apologize again and again if necessary, she would remind him and show him she loved him again and again, however many times it took for Janner to believe it. It had always been so hard to convince him of something once he had turned his heart away from it, rejected it, forgotten it. Now, she was sure it would be no different.
“Mama?”
The whisper was so faint, so quiet, Nia almost thought she imagined it, but she grasped at it with hope anyway. “I’m right here, Janner.” She shifted her gaze to his eyes, willing him to open them, and after a few more seconds, he did.
The grey-green in them was bleary, feverishly bright, and unfocused, but his eyes were open. “How’d you get here?” he murmured, gasping a little breathlessly as he spoke.
Nia’s heart broke at the sound of his breathing—why, oh, why, did the Maker force her precious son to go through so much? Surely being kidnapped and tortured was enough!—but she hid her true feelings by placing them elsewhere. She began running her fingers through Janner’s hair, longer and messier than it usually was. “I came on a ship, almost as soon as I got your letter.”
He furrowed his brow a little. “Didn’t I—” he paused, struggling to draw a shallow breath. “Tell you not to?”
Nia smiled at him and kissed his forehead. “Yes, but as much as I loved hearing from you, surely you knew I wouldn’t listen?”
“Thought I might try anyway,” he mumbled, closing his eyes. “‘m glad you’re here, though.” A smile ghosted over his face, and Nia could have wept with joy at the sight if she had let herself. She had a feeling smiles, true smiles from Janner, had been of great want these past weeks.
Her hand still on his cheek, he shifted a little and snuggled into it. Tears sprang into Nia’s eyes. “Don’t go, please, Mama,” he murmured sleepily. He always sounded so young when he was sick, so like the little seven- or eight-year-old she could picture in her mind’s eye. She loved treating him as such when he didn’t feel well, and he always enjoyed it too. Nothing in her methods would change here, even if Artham was watching.
“I won’t, sweetie,” she replied. “Do you want me to wash your hair tomorrow?”
“Mhm,” he mumbled. “Please.”
“I will,” she whispered, knowing, by the sound of his wheezing, shallow, even breathing, that he was likely asleep again.
Nia stayed there, on the floor, silent, Janner’s cheek cupped in her hand, for several more minutes, until Artham cleared his throat, closed his book, and said, “In terms of getting here, you have some explaining to do.”
As she quietly explained why she wanted to come and how Greston had been willing to sail her there and who had been left in charge of Anniera during both Janner’s (the first in command) and her (the second in command) absence (it was the team effort of Arundelle, Leeli, and the regents), Jebsun came in with a tray and tea cups and tea pot and several herbal tea mixtures.
“I’m not exactly thrilled,” Artham finally said. “But it’s not like I can get rid of you. I can’t imagine you doing harm.”
“Thank the Maker for that,” Nia replied drily. “I hope the birthday cake I’m going to make when the time comes will convince you it’s a good thing I’m here.”
“Nia, I—”
Laughing, Nia rose and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Artham, it’s alright; I’m just joking. Now, I’m going to take this tray to Jebsun and ask him for a few details. I’d like to know what’s going on, if possible.”
She found him in the kitchen, fiddling and engrossed with what looked like different herb poultices. Knocking on the wall to alert him, Nia smiled. “Where’s the best place to…?”
“Oh, let me take that,” Jebsun said quickly, relieving her of the tray and placing it on the counter. “You’re hoping to do a little more than just give me the tea tray, aren’t you?” he queried, brushing his hands free of herbs and coming out from behind the counter.
Nia nodded. “I was hoping you could tell me how Janner actually is. And how he has been since you sent me your letter until now, if you don’t mind. Thank you, by the way, for putting so much detail into it. You’ve no idea how much I appreciate it.” She was glad he had told it to her straight, without using any euphemisms and other such nonsense. By their nature, both Sara and Artham had done so, specifically regarding Janner’s physical health, and though she didn’t blame them, she wanted real answers. One couldn’t do much with watered down explanations, after all.
Sighing, Jebsun ran his hand through his hair and gestured toward the sitting room. “Let’s sit, alright? I don’t mind at all.”
Once they had seated themselves, Jebsun briefly leaned back, praying hands pressed against his lips. Nia couldn’t help but smile; it was a nostalgically familiar posture. It meant he was thinking, and it was odd that the fact that she knew made her want to smile all over again, especially considering nothing of the current situation was of a smiling matter.
*****
Notes:
sleeping flower - you know this one^^
urathym - thyme, which is good for fighting infection and helping respiratory issues
osier - this is willow, which Sara gave Janner in the previous story. It's good for fevers
dandie - dandelion, which is good for a number of things but it's not super relavent to the story
ash cap - ashwagandha, which is good for a whole slew of things including reducing anxiety
On a re-read, I realize this chapter feels as though it jumps around quite a bit.
Also, Nia's brief remark about a birthday cake. I know there's nothing in TWatWK about birthday cakes (there's just the meal and then the 13 muffins for Durgan Guild, which obviously aren't traditional) but I am inserting a birthday cake because it seems like the sort of think Nia would bake and decorate gorgeously.
So other than that, please let me know if it's too wonky, or if there's anything noncanonical, etc. ^^
ToC for AToTA
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
I think there would totally be birthday cakes. Absolutely. And no more honey muffins!
Great chapter!
Everyone keeps delaying Nia when she needs to see Janner! I suppose that's a consequence of coming when no one is expecting it; everyone needs to mentally rearrange their plans and communicate to Nia what's been going on the last few weeks.
Ooh! I've always imagined that Glipwood probably only gets one or two snowfalls a year!
Janner has a fever again? 😢
I hope Sara gets a good book; maybe she can read it to Janner.
How does Nia know that Janner feels like he doesn't deserve love, or can't be loved? It was a nice nod to the "We love you" scene in the Ice Prairies, though! ☺️
I'm sure Janner would much prefer a birthday cake to honey muffins!
But how would Nia decorate it? I'm assuming she won't be using our modern overly-processed food dye laden frosting. And that leads me to wonder whether they actually have access to sugar, and then I think that they can probably import it from somewhere or other, but it's probably expensive, but that's not a problem for royalty, but then we don't actually know how wealthy Annieran royalty are at the moment, since they just recently came out of a devastating war and... and... and...