Claude didn't know how long they stayed there on the ground, hugging each other and crying, but eventually his mother pulled away and held him at arm's length, a small smile on her lips. He returned it, even though she couldn't see him.

She breathed a laugh and wiped the tears from her face with her coat sleeves. "That Celesta. I'm going to knock her upside the head the next time I see her. When she told me there was a surprise waiting in here for me, this is the last thing I expected."

"She had me thinking you were a corpse," Claude said with a nervous laugh of his own.

His mother's eyebrows shot up. "Oh... you sound so much like your father. It's uncanny. But I think we should get off the floor. I have a reputation to uphold around here."

Claude stood first and offered her a hand up. She was only half a head shorter than him, and he sensed an understated strength about her, like she accepted his gesture as a courtesy, not because she needed his help.

"I can't believe you're here," his mother said, brushing her hair back from her face. "I thought..." She swallowed.

He squeezed her hand. "I'm here, and I'm real. I promise."

"This is all just... so bizarre I..." She shook her head and exhaled a heavy breath. "Alright, come with me. There's much we must talk about, and I'm sure you're tired after all this... excitement. As am I."

"Sure." Claude gathered up his things and followed her out into the hall.

Noise intruded from the vestibule and in short order they joined the throng of people moving up and down the chamber. Despite the band across her eyes, his mother weaved around the people better than him. With both his trunk and bag in his arms he felt burdened down and slow. He was bumped and jostled around like a stone caught in a turbulent river.

Someone shouted from behind them, and his mother stopped, prompting him to dig in his heels lest he bump into her. She put a hand on his shoulder and stepped past him to greet a young girl with a bundle of wrapped up books in her arms.

The girl furrowed her brows at Claude before addressing his mother in that language Celesta had spoken. She offered the bundle of books before bowing her head and waving as she ran off. His mother tucked the books under her arm and ushered him on through the crowd.

A cool blast of air hit Claude as they breached the exits, washing away the perfume and chatter. They continued down the north steps to a dock where people boarded little rowboats destined for other parts of the spring. His mother took him past all that to a beaten dirt road that led up the mountain. They stopped at its wide mouth, and she produced a little whistle from her coat pocket.

It made no sound when she blew it, but heavy footfalls against dirt sounded in front of them. One of those beasts came bounding down the path and leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding bowling them over. It had a black and grey saddle strapped to its back, and its coat was a lighter silver than the others Claude had seen, almost white under the high sun.

"Good girl, Shyala." His mother stroked the creature's neck.

Claude kept his distance, not wanting to do anything to offend the creature. They were nothing like the meek bison of the north that he was used to seeing. "Ah, you have one of those too."

"One of those. They're called paterra, Claude. Most of those around the city are well trained enough not to bother a stranger. It's the wild ones in the mountains you should worry about. Come come, get acquainted."

He approached the beast slowly and it cocked its head to the side. It sniffed around his face and hair before snuffling his bags. Then he remembered. He reached in and unwrapped the last bit of meat left from his journey.

Shyala sat on her haunches, at attention as though awaiting an order, and when Claude offered her the morsel, she lapped it up happily, her tail thumping the ground hard enough to kick up dust. "Good girl, Shyala." He stroked the fur on her neck, the same way his mother had.

"Ah, she likes you already." His mother smiled.

"I got her name. May I get yours as well?" Claude asked.

"It's Esther. Esther Adrienne Nyo." She moved to the paterra's side and loaded the books into a saddle bag. "I couldn't include it in my letters for reasons we'll discuss later. You can strap your trunk on here." She unhooked a bundle of rope from the saddle and tossed it to him.

He had to rear his head back lest it smack him in the face. "Will she be able to carry it and both of us?"

"Of course. The paterra look slim but they're quite strong." She patted the saddle. "There are loops underneath to secure the rope."

Claude threw one end of the rope over the back of the horse, guided it through the loops and secured his trunk tightly. All the while Shyala remained still and docile, even more so than the bison and horses he was used to.

Esther swung up onto Shyala's back, offered him a hand up and pulled him on behind her with ease.

Claude settled easily into the saddle. The upturned lip cradled his lower back and stopped him from slipping off. "Where are we headed?"

"To my home. Shyala's fast so it should be a short ride." And she handed him the reins. "Hold on tight."

"Wait, I—" His words turned into a scream as the paterra took off. He gripped the reins tight as he tattered to one side and almost lost his seat. Shyala charged down the road at speeds he didn't know were possible for an animal that size. The wind roared in his ears and whipped up his hair.

People and buildings blurred past as they charged around the spring to its south side. Claude whipped his head around and found the fortress long behind them. The paterra kept close to the lake shore, away from the road and the people traversing it. Occasionally, his mother would raise a hand to wave at people who called out to her. Most of said people were in the same uniform.

After about ten minutes, he eased into his seat and was able to sit up proper without feeling as though he was about to fall over. He felt Shyala's muscles bunching and rippling beneath him as she covered the distance with long strides.

In short order, they were on the south side of the spring and Shyala leapt back onto the road. She slowed to a canter and stopped in front of a quaint little home built with slabs of the same reddish stone as everything else around these mountains. Claude spotted clay pots overflowing with plants on the flat roof. Even more were on the wooden porch attached to the front of the building. Even though the soil looked hard, beds of clover had no issues finding purchase.

Esther jumped down from Shyala's back and retrieved the books from the saddle bags. "Can you wait out here for a moment? I'll be right back."

"Of course." Claude watched her disappear through the front door and busied himself pulling his things from Shyala's back. The paterra stretched and sauntered off to the back of the house, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He spotted a shady tree beside the house and sought refuge from the sun there.

What now? The question snuck to the forefront of his mind. His mother had obviously made a life for herself here in the mountains. She had a home, a job, and who knows what else. He wasn't even sure if he'd be allowed to stay, given his past. He had no job, and couldn't return to the priesthood. His conscience wouldn't allow him to leech off his mother, especially when they just met.

Claude had savings left from his stipends from the Divine City, but it was nowhere near enough to afford a place to stay. Perhaps he could get a sewing machine and set up shop somewhere, pay his dues in blood sweat and tears like the gods intended.

"Claude?"

He looked up and found his mother standing over him, frown fixed on her lips. "Sorry, I was a little spaced out." He stood and stretched the stiffness from his limbs.

"This way, please. There's someone I'd like you to meet." She led the way up the porch and into the house.

When Claude stepped over the threshold he was assaulted by the scent of jasmine. The living area was light and open with large windows framed by blue curtains. Unlike the homes in the north, this one didn't have a hearth, and the roof was a lot higher. Low chairs dotted the wood floors and paintings hung on the walls.

Claude gave it all a cursory glance before his eyes settled on the man seated in one of said chairs. He was tall and dark, much like a lot of the people who lived in these parts, with dreadlocks pulled away from his face, many of them grey. He held a crutch in one hand, which he used to stand as soon as they walked in. He regarded Claude with a half smile, his dark eyes glinting.

"Claude," his mother said, gesturing to the man, "this is my husband, Ashon. Ashon, Claude, my son." She said "my son" as though it was a foreign phrase to her. He supposed it was after all this time.

Ashon extended a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Claude." His voice was smooth and heavily accented with the same sing-song cadence as Celesta.

"Likewise." Claude reached for his palm, but Ashon bypassed it and clasped his forearm instead. "I'm sorry to barge in like this."

He grinned. "No worries. I'm sure there's much you both need to discuss. I'll go make some refreshments." With that, he turned and disappeared through a door in the back of the room.

His mother relieved herself of her coat and set her shoes by the door. As Claude did the same, he noticed two sets of slippers that were half the size of his boots. He averted his eyes and stood, not wanting to look too suspicious. His mother was married, so it stands to reason...

Esther sat on the couch with one leg tucked under her hip and patted the seat next to her.

"So, where would you like to start," Claude asked as he settled beside her.

She shrugged a shoulder. "Let's start with you."