“‘Talk’ is perhaps not the right word,” said Dom, nodding. “But it’s close enough. Things take on a bit of you when you interact with them. They get some of you when you get some of them. Trees… they need more of you and have less of themselves to give. Other plants have even less. The way I think of it, and druids aren’t all the same in this way, everything that I touch becomes a bit of me, at least for a time. Once you realize that, you can exercise it, more than you’ve been doing naturally.”
Isra frowned at that, thinking. “They have their own personalities,” she said.
“With animals?” asked Dom. Isra nodded. “Well, they
Isra frowned. “How do I do that?”
Dom laughed. “Well I have no idea how you view the world, do I?” she asked. “So how can I tell you how to view it in a different way? It’s like trying to give you directions to a place without knowing where you’re starting from. And I have to say, you seem like you’re in need, but having a baby druid as an apprentice isn’t what I’ve agreed to here.”
“That’s fine,” said Isra. “I only need to know.” It felt like there was more to that thought, but it was complete on its own, and Isra left it there. ‘I only need to know everything’.
“Your powers, such as they are, extend to everything in the natural world except people,” said Dom. “That includes rocks, by the way, though if you thought trees were slow, you’ve seen nothing of the thickheadedness of a rock.”
“Uh,” said Mizuki. “Rocks can’t think though?”
“And trees can’t move,” Dom said, nodding. “They don’t have muscles. Once you realize that being a druid means having a part of yourself in the world, and the world inside of you, it gets to be a lot easier.”
“But not other people,” said Isra.
“Other people, no,” said Dom. “Not worked materials either, metal being
the worst of them, with glass a close second. It would be
Isra pursed her lips. That would have been beyond handy, just to know people like she knew the flowers and the pines, or the martens and the voles. And if druidism worked in the way that Dom said it did, then having a bit of Isra in the people around her and a bit of them in her would have cured all her woes as far as people went. She would understand them, and they would understand her.
Dom got her food and ate it quickly, the eggs going into her mouth whole, and the flavored oatmeal following it down after that. Isra stayed silent, finishing her own food, even the bacon, which was apparently taboo for a druid. Mizuki made small talk with the twins, mostly involving what she’d done in the dungeons, as well as some technical details with regard to the magic that Verity and Hannah were able to provide. Mizuki, at least, seemed to be enjoying it.
“Well,” said Dom once she’d finished, “I have some outstanding questions about your father and how you could possibly be a druid, but I can read the room well enough to know that can wait for later. What’s left, I think, is to ask whether or not you’re in a guild and whether you’d want to join ours.”
“I’m not in a guild,” said Isra. “I never have been.”
“I can give you an invitation, and it will be voted on tomorrow morning, though you’re sure to be in,” said Dom. “It’s a guild of druids, most of those in the Greater Plenarch, about a hundred all told. They’ll have questions of their own, I’m sure, but you don’t need to give them much in the way of answers. There’s some matters of etiquette that I’m sure your party members will fill you in on. And with that, there are things I need to attend to.”
“Wait,” said Mizuki. “I had a question about dungeons.”
“Dungeons?” asked Dom. “Meaning?”
“Why can’t she do the animal control thing in a dungeon?” asked Mizuki.
Dom looked between Mizuki and Isra. “You’re a dungeoneering party?”
“Er, yes,” said Mizuki.
“Oh,” said Dom, sitting back in her seat. “Not very usual, for a druid.”
“You don’t call yourself a woods witch?” asked Mizuki.
“What?” asked Dom. “No.”
“There’s a madness to the creatures in the dungeons,” said Isra. “A madness that their children don’t share.”
“Yes,” said Dom. “Only toward people and not typically each other.” She shrugged. “A mistake of Editors long, long past and apparently impossible to rectify. Probably, anyway, they’re tight-lipped. You be careful, going into the dungeons, that you don’t let it infect you.”
“Infect me?” asked Isra.
