This Used To Be About Dungeons полностью

It took Mizuki quite some time to rise, and Isra wondered what arrangements had been made with these sorcerers that meant they could be so relaxed about their schedule. Plants and animals had rhythms and patterns, responses to the natural conditions, but humans were different, responding to the bells and scheduling things around them. The bells, at least, depended upon the rising and setting of the sun, but there was still something off in people, who would wait for the right bell to open a store, even if they were already there and behind the counter. If you knocked on the door just a few minutes before the right bell, you were rude.

So Isra wondered, as Hannah and Alfric talked about dungeons, whether these sorcerers they were planning to meet were a different sort of people. It made sense for breakfast to be at a certain time, because breakfast involved a certain amount of labor, and unlike animals who could eat what they wanted, with humans, food was best eaten when it was hot. Isra wondered if that, cooking, was what separated humans from animals. Perhaps it led to all the other things.

Mizuki came out of her bedroom, still stretching, with a smile on her face. “These beds are great.”

“Good sleep?” asked Hannah.

“Absolutely great,” said Mizuki. She looked at Alfric. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he said. “Sore.”

“Next time only use one of your legs when haulin’ the wardrobe,” said Hannah. “That way I’ll be able to take out some of the soreness.”

Alfric laughed. “I’ll be sure to, thanks for the tip.” He’d looked quite grim when he’d gone to bed but seemed better with a long sleep. Isra wondered whether this was his first or second time doing the day.

“Ready for breakfast?” asked Mizuki, looking Isra up and down.

“I suppose,” said Isra. “You’ve heard from the guild?”

“From the twins, yes,” said Mizuki. “They’re ready to go, but I think we’ll have a bit to wait while the breakfast is being made. More of a brunch than a breakfast, I think, but it should be fun. And Dom will be there to answer your questions and mine, which is good, right?”

“Good,” said Isra, though she could feel a tightness in her stomach. When she had said yes to Alfric’s proposition, she hadn’t thought that it would lead to anything beyond a momentary adventure. Now she was on the verge of an understanding of herself and her place in the world. It had been unasked for.

After some brief goodbyes, with Verity still sleeping in, the two of them left.

Did Isra like Mizuki? It was a question she turned over in her head, as she often did with questions she asked herself.

Speaking with Alfric was nice. He was good at explaining things, and he seemed to feel a great deal of empathy and understanding for her. With Verity, there were comfortable silences and what felt like an agreement that they could both be quiet. But speaking with Mizuki, while it had a buzzing constancy to it, demanded little of Isra, and in that respect, was pleasant. Waiting around while Mizuki spoke to others at great length was less nice.

Mizuki knew how to cook and was generous with that talent, as well as generous overall, offering her rooms and attempting to be a good host. That uninhibited warmth was a point in her favor.

But did Isra like Mizuki? Did she instinctively want to spend more time with her? It was hard to say. There was something nice about Mizuki, perhaps the way that she seemed to place no particular expectations on other people. She was an easygoing girl. But Mizuki knew the rules of the world in a way that Isra did not, and it was clear to Isra that as much as Mizuki was free-spirited and rules-breaking, Isra’s own breaking of the rules was somewhat looked down upon.

The conversation shifted from topic to topic with only minimal input from Isra. Mizuki talked about chrononauts, and Alfric, and how rumors could be spun from the aether as surely as a wizard making magic, which wasn’t actually how wizards did it, and then she talked about someone named Bethany, who apparently had slighted Mizuki in the distant past, which was now forgiven, but not so forgiven that it wasn’t worthy of comment.

The house was a stately one in a neighborhood that seemed to be filled with stately houses, though the yard was somewhat small in comparison with what people had in Pucklechurch. It was wrapped with a brick wall that had become overgrown with vines, and the vines continued on over the wooden siding of the house too, though they were somewhat more managed there. The gardening was, to Isra’s eye, conspicuous, with plants that didn’t like each other terribly much crowded in together. No doubt someone thought that it looked nice, but it was distinctly lacking in beauty, and given that edible plants were packed in with poisonous ones, she doubted that it served any possible function.

“The flowers are nice,” said Mizuki, leaning down to sniff one.